Very nice tale! I wonder if all starships have a "locker?"
Laura's fiction contest entries
- Thread starter Laura Cynthia Chambers
- Start date
As surely as most houses have attics, basements, closets, or gaps under the floorboards.
The Silent Treatment
"Mind if we join you, Doctor?"
McCoy looked up from his turkey sandwich and eyed the blonde who stood by his mess hall table, balancing a lunch tray on one hip. A small salad, lightly dressed, was accompanied by a side of French fries and a frothy green drink with little dark specks in it. "We?" He glanced to her left, then her right. "Need a chaperone for your lunch date with the invisible man?" he quipped.
"What?" Carol turned and swept her gaze across the lunch room. As she stepped backward, she bumped into Uhura gently. "Nyota. Where did you go? You were right behind me."
"I just thought-" Uhura sighed. "Oh, never mind." Without waiting for McCoy's answer, she slid into the seat next to him and set down her tray, then picked up the spoon and dipped it into her soup. At a nod from McCoy, Carol shrugged and sat down across from them, taking a sip of her drink.
Leaning towards Carol, McCoy cupped one hand to his face and whispered, "What's with her?"
Marcus set down her glass. "Spock's been a little busy lately. She told me she knows that he has a lot of duties as first officer, not to mention his scientific pursuits. Still…" she trailed off, running her finger around the rim of the glass, "She was kind of hoping he'd show up for their usual lunch date anyway."
McCoy looked over at his seatmate. Uhura was still stirring the soup, but had yet to consume any of it. "Maybe if ya blow on it, it'll cool faster," he suggested, taking another bite of his sandwich.
"Hmm?" She glanced up at him. "Oh, no. It isn't that…I mean-" She took a mouthful of soup and wiped her mouth with a napkin. "It's silly, really. It's not like I'm his only friend. He's got Jim, and you, and I don't resent the time you spend together." Brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, she leaned on one elbow. "I should be glad, really, that he's making new friends, especially Vulcan ones. He's told me how difficult it was for him to try to fit in with his peers as a child." Her smile lifted slightly until it finally met her eyes. "And from what Spock tells me about him, he's quite brilliant, really. A xenobotanist who enlisted with Starfleet two years ago, and is currently working towards officer status. They're both big fans of Contemplative Silence, too."
"Great. Just what we need around here. More of that little diversion." McCoy frowned mid-chew. "Xenobotanist, you say?" He reached for the tablet next to his tray and tapped the screen, bringing up the personnel database. Typing the field into the search bar, he frowned as the Vulcan's image appeared on the screen.
"Yeah. He transferred here during our stopover at Starbase 22." Uhura spooned up some more soup. "You probably met him during his transfer physical. What'd you think of him, dare I ask?" she queried dryly.
"You've never met him?" Carol asked her, trailing a fry in her salad dressing. "I haven't spend a lot of time in the arboretum or plant biology labs lately, but surely you would have run into him and Spock once or twice." She popped the fry in her mouth.
"Nope." Uhura shook her head. "I've been meaning to invite him to dinner in our quarters one of these nights, though. Sort of a "welcome-to-the-Enterprise-get-to-know-you" meal. Would you like to come?"
"Sure." Carol leaned forward eagerly, chin resting on one hand. "Hey, want me to bring the dessert? Mum didn't do a lot of cooking, but she had a recipe for pecan-"
"Hold it." McCoy placed a hand on her arm. "Doncha think the company'll be a little, uh, lopsided?"
Carol and Uhura both turned to McCoy. "What do you mean by that?" Uhura asked, brows furrowed slightly.
"Of all of the transfers we received at Starbase 22, there was only one sciences division Vulcan. Crewman first class Veylik." He raised an eyebrow at Carol, whose expression clouded.
"That's right." Uhura finished her soup and pushed it to one side. "However you add it up, it all evens out. Two Vulcans - basically - two Humans. Two women-" She noticed their shared glance. "What is it?"
"Three women, Uhura." McCoy held up three fingers, then slid his tablet over towards her. "Veylik is a she, not a he." The screen showed the image of an elegant Vulcan woman with long dark hair knotted in a bun and wearing sciences blue. "I was attending a meeting on the base the day she came aboard. I had to stay late participating in a conference call with Starfleet Medical. One of the relay stations was experiencing a time delay, so everything took twice as long to-" He studied the woman's face, which had gone ashen. "Uhura? You all right?"
Uhura's hands began to shake. "He…I just assumed, I guess, that…" Her lips pressed tightly together, and she looked up from the screen. Fire smoldered in her eyes. "Why didn't he tell me?"
"I might be able to hazard a guess," McCoy chuckled, choking off his laugh as she glared at him.
Uhura turned her gaze on Carol. "Why didn't you tell me? You just let me go on and on about how great it is that Spock made a Vulcan friend, and they have so much in common, and-" She threw her hands up in the air.
Carol shook her head. "I didn't know, honest I didn't."
"But you recognized her name!"
"Yes, because we spoke briefly yesterday in the ship's library." Carol insisted. "It was after my shift, and neither of us were wearing our division colors. She asked me whether I'd seen Ensign Hamilton because she had a question for him about switching her assigned quarters for another. I told her I hadn't, and we parted. I didn't know she was new to the ship. I've been here for a while and I still haven't met everybody." She sighed. "Really, I don't think you need to worry. She's probably just asking Spock for advice, that's all."
"Yeah, she's right," McCoy reached for his glass of milk. "Like how to fend off our captain-" Carol's mouth twisted "-or tips on perfecting her silence technique." He covered his mouth as a hiccup escaped, then glanced back and forth at the two women. Uhura was clenching her napkin in both hands, knuckles white, mouth set in a grim line, while Carol bored holes in the doctor's face with her eyes. "Did I say something wrong?"
Carol laughed humorlessly. "Not at all. Whatever gave you that idea?" Shoving aside her tray, she got up from her seat and walked away from the table, back stiff.
McCoy watched her until she disappeared into the crowd, then turned his gaze back on Uhura, who had abandoned the mangled napkin and now tapped her manicured fingernails on the tabletop. "They've been spending a lot of time together?"
"Uh-huh. We haven't seen each other for more than a few minutes at a time in the last couple of weeks," she sniffed. A tear dribbled down one cheek. "He doesn't come to bed until 0300, some nights." She reached up to wipe it away. "When I asked him about it, he said that something came up. And I believed him."
"As well you should. Spock doesn't lie. Granted, he didn't tell you the whole truth this time, but-" He paused as Uhura swiveled in her seat, placing one hand on the table for balance.
"So he wants silence, does he? I'll give him silence," she muttered, standing up. "Two can play that game." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Let's see how he likes it for a change."
"What did you have in mind?" McCoy asked, stuffing the last of his sandwich in his mouth and collecting both his empty tray and those the women had left behind.
Uhura gave him a wicked smile. "You'll see."
****
For the next week, McCoy made a point of finding excuses to head up to the bridge, ranging from hand-delivering a report on the status of crew immunizations to acting as though Kirk had summoned him. He even volunteered to join an away team when he learned that Spock, Uhura, and Veylik would all be heading to the surface of Grenum III to oversee the transfer of several botanical samples to the ship's arboretum. Aside from the minimum of communication required for the successful completion of her tasks, Uhura remained as quiet as possible. She was pleasant as always to the bridge crew and those she spoke with over the comms, generally civil to the Vulcan woman, and downright monosyllabic to Spock, communicating most of her answers with subtle gestures and minimal eye contact.
As McCoy descended into the command well on the morning of the seventh day with two cups of coffee, a hand stretched out and grabbed him by the elbow, making him slosh a few drops onto the floor. "Can't you wait one second, Jim?" He handed the cup to the captain and raised his own coffee to his lips.
"Thank you, Yeoman McCoy." Kirk laughed as the doctor rolled his eyes. "Seriously, though, this is, what, the twelfth time you've come to the bridge this week? In the words of Admiral Pike, "get a life"."
"He did not say that to you."
"In so many words, no, but that was the gist of it. Best advice I ever got." Kirk leaned forward in the command chair, toasting the late admiral.
McCoy did the same, took a sip, and frowned. "What about all the advice I give you?"
"You mean like 'don't touch that', 'don't do that', 'she's not your type, Jim'. That kind of advice, Bones?"
"Yeah. And by the way, you forgot, 'hold still' and 'don't be such a baby'." McCoy sipped his drink again. "Actually, I came up to see the floor show." When Kirk looked at him askance, McCoy raised his cup towards Uhura, who was intently focusing on her current conversation with one of the ship's departments. "You really haven't noticed Lt. Uhura's rather…frosty demeanor when the hobgoblin's around?"
As if on cue, the turbolift opened, and Spock strode out onto the bridge, making the rounds of the various stations before settling into his own. As he did, Uhura glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, only to look away when he acknowledged her presence, stiffening in her chair. Spock remained standing for a moment, then settled in at his science station.
"Ouch," Kirk muttered. "Delta Vega wasn't that cold. What's gotten into her?"
"Girl trouble." McCoy leaned against the arm of Kirk's chair. "You know that Vulcan xenobotanist we picked up at 22 three weeks ago? Spock's been spending a lot of time with her lately…contemplating silence. He just neglected to tell her his new silence buddy was a female, that's all."
"Really?" Kirk set his cup down on the console to his left. "And she's decided to punish him for it."
"Yup. Now he'll know what it's like to be ignored." McCoy scratched the side of his head. "I've been watching them all week and as far as I know, he hasn't caught on yet."
"Maybe it's about time someone gave him a clue, don't you think? If I know Spock as well as I think I do, he's probably been too busy preparing reports and studying the latest briefings to even realize. He likely just thinks she's preoccupied with work." Kirk shook his head. "He may be a genius, but sometimes you got to hit him over the head with a two by four to get through to him." He thought for a moment. "Speaking of busy, have you seen Carol around lately? I've been trying to get a hold of her, but every time I ring her up, she doesn't answer."
McCoy swallowed, then shrugged casually. "I think she's working on a science paper for the Federation Journal of Applied Physics. Something about magnetic attraction."
"Oh." The captain walked over to the science station and tapped Spock on the shoulder. "Mr. Spock? A word?"
Spock turned. "Captain." He followed Kirk towards the chair. "Doctor."
"Spock." McCoy folded his hands together and drew his teeth over his lower lip.
"What is it?" Spock stood at attention. "I was analyzing the findings astrophysics has amassed on this system. Some of the radiation readings-"
"This isn't about work, Spock. It's about her." Kirk angled his head toward Uhura's back. "You know, your girlfriend?"
"You wish to discuss Nyota?" Spock's brow furrowed and he turned to McCoy, puzzled. "Is there something the matter with her, Doctor?"
"Mm. Yes and no." McCoy put a hand on Spock's shoulder. "Nothing life-threatening, mind you…"
"Spock. Have you noticed her…odd behavior lately?" Kirk began tentatively.
"Hmm. Not particularly. We have hardly spoken in the last week beyond work-related matters." Spock thought for a moment. "She did seem a little distracted yesterday, however, when I told her that I would be late for dinner. Crewman Veylik wished to show me the silence robe she had T'Paia autograph at the competitive silence tournament on Shammin VI." He glanced towards the viewscreen. "Did you know that she competes in the amateurs? She finished 17th overall in the women's division, out of 134 competitors. It was only her seventh time competing. A most impressive finish." His voice held a note of admiration. "Her uncle Akal is a fifth order master, and her grandmother T'San once held the elder record for endurance, so she comes by her talent quite naturally. She-"
"Spock." McCoy held up one hand. "What Jim means to say is that, well, Uhura's a little upset that you've been spending all this time with an attractive Vulcan lady instead of her. She's feeling kind of left out."
"So if she hasn't been speaking to you a lot-" Kirk added.
"-or givin' you the brush-off altogether," McCoy continued, " it's just because she thinks you two might be making beautiful silence together, if ya get my drift." He puckered his lips together.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Ah. Indeed, I do. Thank you, doctor." He stepped back, turned around, and walked over to Uhura's station, leaning over her until she removed her earpiece and looked up at him, mouth pressed closed. "Nyota," he began. "I believe there has been a misunderstanding."
"Has there?" she asked cooly, gaze shifting back to her screen, pretending to read the intra-ship transmissions that scrolled across the screen.
"Yes." He clasped his hands behind his back. "I fear there may have been some mistaken assumptions made about the nature of certain actions…of yours."
She spun her chair around slowly to face him, arching one of her eyebrows. "My actions?"
"Yes," Spock agreed. "Over the past week, there has been a distance between us. Originally, I attributed it to the demands of your duties on the Enterprise. Leonard and Jim have since assured me that I was in error." Something close to a smile made his lip twitch. "Nyota, I have always admired your willingness to learn about the culture of my people, however difficult it might be to understand their reasons for believing in or engaging in certain behaviors and practices. I should have recognized and nurtured your desire to practice competitive silence instead of continually frustrating your training exercises."
He placed one hand on her shoulder. "From now on, you have my full support; I shall not attempt to engage you in conversation unless you initiate it first." He turned to leave her side, then stopped. "I would recommend, however, that you limit your training time so as not to impede your duties. Perhaps Veylik would be able to give you additional aid."
Holding one finger to his lips, he backed away from her slowly and turned until he was facing Kirk and McCoy again. "Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention, gentlemen. I had no idea."
Kirk's jaw dropped, and he just stared at Spock for a moment, eyes wide and speechless.
McCoy met the captain's gaze with an incredulous one of his own, then raised both hands to his face and shook his head slowly from side to side. He kneaded his forehead. "You're welc-"
CRASH! All three looked up. A tablet computer clattered to the floor as Uhura jumped up out of her chair and stormed into the hallway, shoving past a confused Sulu, who was just entering the bridge. Shrugging, he headed towards the helm and took his seat.
"She lacks self-control." Spock reached down for the tablet and picked it up, looking in the direction Uhura had exited, a concerned look on his face. "That does not bode well for her future in the sport." He set the tablet on her console and returned to his science station.
Kirk flopped backwards in his chair. "Spock, Spock, Spock…" He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then sat up. "Speaking of predicting the future, I've got a hunch he's gonna be in deep, deep, doo-doo for a long time to come."
McCoy let out a long sigh. "You know what I always say, Jim. There's no fool like a Vulcan fool."
"Mind if we join you, Doctor?"
McCoy looked up from his turkey sandwich and eyed the blonde who stood by his mess hall table, balancing a lunch tray on one hip. A small salad, lightly dressed, was accompanied by a side of French fries and a frothy green drink with little dark specks in it. "We?" He glanced to her left, then her right. "Need a chaperone for your lunch date with the invisible man?" he quipped.
"What?" Carol turned and swept her gaze across the lunch room. As she stepped backward, she bumped into Uhura gently. "Nyota. Where did you go? You were right behind me."
"I just thought-" Uhura sighed. "Oh, never mind." Without waiting for McCoy's answer, she slid into the seat next to him and set down her tray, then picked up the spoon and dipped it into her soup. At a nod from McCoy, Carol shrugged and sat down across from them, taking a sip of her drink.
Leaning towards Carol, McCoy cupped one hand to his face and whispered, "What's with her?"
Marcus set down her glass. "Spock's been a little busy lately. She told me she knows that he has a lot of duties as first officer, not to mention his scientific pursuits. Still…" she trailed off, running her finger around the rim of the glass, "She was kind of hoping he'd show up for their usual lunch date anyway."
McCoy looked over at his seatmate. Uhura was still stirring the soup, but had yet to consume any of it. "Maybe if ya blow on it, it'll cool faster," he suggested, taking another bite of his sandwich.
"Hmm?" She glanced up at him. "Oh, no. It isn't that…I mean-" She took a mouthful of soup and wiped her mouth with a napkin. "It's silly, really. It's not like I'm his only friend. He's got Jim, and you, and I don't resent the time you spend together." Brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, she leaned on one elbow. "I should be glad, really, that he's making new friends, especially Vulcan ones. He's told me how difficult it was for him to try to fit in with his peers as a child." Her smile lifted slightly until it finally met her eyes. "And from what Spock tells me about him, he's quite brilliant, really. A xenobotanist who enlisted with Starfleet two years ago, and is currently working towards officer status. They're both big fans of Contemplative Silence, too."
"Great. Just what we need around here. More of that little diversion." McCoy frowned mid-chew. "Xenobotanist, you say?" He reached for the tablet next to his tray and tapped the screen, bringing up the personnel database. Typing the field into the search bar, he frowned as the Vulcan's image appeared on the screen.
"Yeah. He transferred here during our stopover at Starbase 22." Uhura spooned up some more soup. "You probably met him during his transfer physical. What'd you think of him, dare I ask?" she queried dryly.
"You've never met him?" Carol asked her, trailing a fry in her salad dressing. "I haven't spend a lot of time in the arboretum or plant biology labs lately, but surely you would have run into him and Spock once or twice." She popped the fry in her mouth.
"Nope." Uhura shook her head. "I've been meaning to invite him to dinner in our quarters one of these nights, though. Sort of a "welcome-to-the-Enterprise-get-to-know-you" meal. Would you like to come?"
"Sure." Carol leaned forward eagerly, chin resting on one hand. "Hey, want me to bring the dessert? Mum didn't do a lot of cooking, but she had a recipe for pecan-"
"Hold it." McCoy placed a hand on her arm. "Doncha think the company'll be a little, uh, lopsided?"
Carol and Uhura both turned to McCoy. "What do you mean by that?" Uhura asked, brows furrowed slightly.
"Of all of the transfers we received at Starbase 22, there was only one sciences division Vulcan. Crewman first class Veylik." He raised an eyebrow at Carol, whose expression clouded.
"That's right." Uhura finished her soup and pushed it to one side. "However you add it up, it all evens out. Two Vulcans - basically - two Humans. Two women-" She noticed their shared glance. "What is it?"
"Three women, Uhura." McCoy held up three fingers, then slid his tablet over towards her. "Veylik is a she, not a he." The screen showed the image of an elegant Vulcan woman with long dark hair knotted in a bun and wearing sciences blue. "I was attending a meeting on the base the day she came aboard. I had to stay late participating in a conference call with Starfleet Medical. One of the relay stations was experiencing a time delay, so everything took twice as long to-" He studied the woman's face, which had gone ashen. "Uhura? You all right?"
Uhura's hands began to shake. "He…I just assumed, I guess, that…" Her lips pressed tightly together, and she looked up from the screen. Fire smoldered in her eyes. "Why didn't he tell me?"
"I might be able to hazard a guess," McCoy chuckled, choking off his laugh as she glared at him.
Uhura turned her gaze on Carol. "Why didn't you tell me? You just let me go on and on about how great it is that Spock made a Vulcan friend, and they have so much in common, and-" She threw her hands up in the air.
Carol shook her head. "I didn't know, honest I didn't."
"But you recognized her name!"
"Yes, because we spoke briefly yesterday in the ship's library." Carol insisted. "It was after my shift, and neither of us were wearing our division colors. She asked me whether I'd seen Ensign Hamilton because she had a question for him about switching her assigned quarters for another. I told her I hadn't, and we parted. I didn't know she was new to the ship. I've been here for a while and I still haven't met everybody." She sighed. "Really, I don't think you need to worry. She's probably just asking Spock for advice, that's all."
"Yeah, she's right," McCoy reached for his glass of milk. "Like how to fend off our captain-" Carol's mouth twisted "-or tips on perfecting her silence technique." He covered his mouth as a hiccup escaped, then glanced back and forth at the two women. Uhura was clenching her napkin in both hands, knuckles white, mouth set in a grim line, while Carol bored holes in the doctor's face with her eyes. "Did I say something wrong?"
Carol laughed humorlessly. "Not at all. Whatever gave you that idea?" Shoving aside her tray, she got up from her seat and walked away from the table, back stiff.
McCoy watched her until she disappeared into the crowd, then turned his gaze back on Uhura, who had abandoned the mangled napkin and now tapped her manicured fingernails on the tabletop. "They've been spending a lot of time together?"
"Uh-huh. We haven't seen each other for more than a few minutes at a time in the last couple of weeks," she sniffed. A tear dribbled down one cheek. "He doesn't come to bed until 0300, some nights." She reached up to wipe it away. "When I asked him about it, he said that something came up. And I believed him."
"As well you should. Spock doesn't lie. Granted, he didn't tell you the whole truth this time, but-" He paused as Uhura swiveled in her seat, placing one hand on the table for balance.
"So he wants silence, does he? I'll give him silence," she muttered, standing up. "Two can play that game." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Let's see how he likes it for a change."
"What did you have in mind?" McCoy asked, stuffing the last of his sandwich in his mouth and collecting both his empty tray and those the women had left behind.
Uhura gave him a wicked smile. "You'll see."
****
For the next week, McCoy made a point of finding excuses to head up to the bridge, ranging from hand-delivering a report on the status of crew immunizations to acting as though Kirk had summoned him. He even volunteered to join an away team when he learned that Spock, Uhura, and Veylik would all be heading to the surface of Grenum III to oversee the transfer of several botanical samples to the ship's arboretum. Aside from the minimum of communication required for the successful completion of her tasks, Uhura remained as quiet as possible. She was pleasant as always to the bridge crew and those she spoke with over the comms, generally civil to the Vulcan woman, and downright monosyllabic to Spock, communicating most of her answers with subtle gestures and minimal eye contact.
As McCoy descended into the command well on the morning of the seventh day with two cups of coffee, a hand stretched out and grabbed him by the elbow, making him slosh a few drops onto the floor. "Can't you wait one second, Jim?" He handed the cup to the captain and raised his own coffee to his lips.
"Thank you, Yeoman McCoy." Kirk laughed as the doctor rolled his eyes. "Seriously, though, this is, what, the twelfth time you've come to the bridge this week? In the words of Admiral Pike, "get a life"."
"He did not say that to you."
"In so many words, no, but that was the gist of it. Best advice I ever got." Kirk leaned forward in the command chair, toasting the late admiral.
McCoy did the same, took a sip, and frowned. "What about all the advice I give you?"
"You mean like 'don't touch that', 'don't do that', 'she's not your type, Jim'. That kind of advice, Bones?"
"Yeah. And by the way, you forgot, 'hold still' and 'don't be such a baby'." McCoy sipped his drink again. "Actually, I came up to see the floor show." When Kirk looked at him askance, McCoy raised his cup towards Uhura, who was intently focusing on her current conversation with one of the ship's departments. "You really haven't noticed Lt. Uhura's rather…frosty demeanor when the hobgoblin's around?"
As if on cue, the turbolift opened, and Spock strode out onto the bridge, making the rounds of the various stations before settling into his own. As he did, Uhura glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, only to look away when he acknowledged her presence, stiffening in her chair. Spock remained standing for a moment, then settled in at his science station.
"Ouch," Kirk muttered. "Delta Vega wasn't that cold. What's gotten into her?"
"Girl trouble." McCoy leaned against the arm of Kirk's chair. "You know that Vulcan xenobotanist we picked up at 22 three weeks ago? Spock's been spending a lot of time with her lately…contemplating silence. He just neglected to tell her his new silence buddy was a female, that's all."
"Really?" Kirk set his cup down on the console to his left. "And she's decided to punish him for it."
"Yup. Now he'll know what it's like to be ignored." McCoy scratched the side of his head. "I've been watching them all week and as far as I know, he hasn't caught on yet."
"Maybe it's about time someone gave him a clue, don't you think? If I know Spock as well as I think I do, he's probably been too busy preparing reports and studying the latest briefings to even realize. He likely just thinks she's preoccupied with work." Kirk shook his head. "He may be a genius, but sometimes you got to hit him over the head with a two by four to get through to him." He thought for a moment. "Speaking of busy, have you seen Carol around lately? I've been trying to get a hold of her, but every time I ring her up, she doesn't answer."
McCoy swallowed, then shrugged casually. "I think she's working on a science paper for the Federation Journal of Applied Physics. Something about magnetic attraction."
"Oh." The captain walked over to the science station and tapped Spock on the shoulder. "Mr. Spock? A word?"
Spock turned. "Captain." He followed Kirk towards the chair. "Doctor."
"Spock." McCoy folded his hands together and drew his teeth over his lower lip.
"What is it?" Spock stood at attention. "I was analyzing the findings astrophysics has amassed on this system. Some of the radiation readings-"
"This isn't about work, Spock. It's about her." Kirk angled his head toward Uhura's back. "You know, your girlfriend?"
"You wish to discuss Nyota?" Spock's brow furrowed and he turned to McCoy, puzzled. "Is there something the matter with her, Doctor?"
"Mm. Yes and no." McCoy put a hand on Spock's shoulder. "Nothing life-threatening, mind you…"
"Spock. Have you noticed her…odd behavior lately?" Kirk began tentatively.
"Hmm. Not particularly. We have hardly spoken in the last week beyond work-related matters." Spock thought for a moment. "She did seem a little distracted yesterday, however, when I told her that I would be late for dinner. Crewman Veylik wished to show me the silence robe she had T'Paia autograph at the competitive silence tournament on Shammin VI." He glanced towards the viewscreen. "Did you know that she competes in the amateurs? She finished 17th overall in the women's division, out of 134 competitors. It was only her seventh time competing. A most impressive finish." His voice held a note of admiration. "Her uncle Akal is a fifth order master, and her grandmother T'San once held the elder record for endurance, so she comes by her talent quite naturally. She-"
"Spock." McCoy held up one hand. "What Jim means to say is that, well, Uhura's a little upset that you've been spending all this time with an attractive Vulcan lady instead of her. She's feeling kind of left out."
"So if she hasn't been speaking to you a lot-" Kirk added.
"-or givin' you the brush-off altogether," McCoy continued, " it's just because she thinks you two might be making beautiful silence together, if ya get my drift." He puckered his lips together.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Ah. Indeed, I do. Thank you, doctor." He stepped back, turned around, and walked over to Uhura's station, leaning over her until she removed her earpiece and looked up at him, mouth pressed closed. "Nyota," he began. "I believe there has been a misunderstanding."
"Has there?" she asked cooly, gaze shifting back to her screen, pretending to read the intra-ship transmissions that scrolled across the screen.
"Yes." He clasped his hands behind his back. "I fear there may have been some mistaken assumptions made about the nature of certain actions…of yours."
She spun her chair around slowly to face him, arching one of her eyebrows. "My actions?"
"Yes," Spock agreed. "Over the past week, there has been a distance between us. Originally, I attributed it to the demands of your duties on the Enterprise. Leonard and Jim have since assured me that I was in error." Something close to a smile made his lip twitch. "Nyota, I have always admired your willingness to learn about the culture of my people, however difficult it might be to understand their reasons for believing in or engaging in certain behaviors and practices. I should have recognized and nurtured your desire to practice competitive silence instead of continually frustrating your training exercises."
He placed one hand on her shoulder. "From now on, you have my full support; I shall not attempt to engage you in conversation unless you initiate it first." He turned to leave her side, then stopped. "I would recommend, however, that you limit your training time so as not to impede your duties. Perhaps Veylik would be able to give you additional aid."
Holding one finger to his lips, he backed away from her slowly and turned until he was facing Kirk and McCoy again. "Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention, gentlemen. I had no idea."
Kirk's jaw dropped, and he just stared at Spock for a moment, eyes wide and speechless.
McCoy met the captain's gaze with an incredulous one of his own, then raised both hands to his face and shook his head slowly from side to side. He kneaded his forehead. "You're welc-"
CRASH! All three looked up. A tablet computer clattered to the floor as Uhura jumped up out of her chair and stormed into the hallway, shoving past a confused Sulu, who was just entering the bridge. Shrugging, he headed towards the helm and took his seat.
"She lacks self-control." Spock reached down for the tablet and picked it up, looking in the direction Uhura had exited, a concerned look on his face. "That does not bode well for her future in the sport." He set the tablet on her console and returned to his science station.
Kirk flopped backwards in his chair. "Spock, Spock, Spock…" He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then sat up. "Speaking of predicting the future, I've got a hunch he's gonna be in deep, deep, doo-doo for a long time to come."
McCoy let out a long sigh. "You know what I always say, Jim. There's no fool like a Vulcan fool."
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You could cut the obliviousness with a knife.
It's part of my "Contemplative Silence" series.
Basically, the premise is that Spock pursues a Vulcan discipline known as Contemplative Silence, that has several different types of literature, art, merchandise, and activities associated with it. It really began as a one-off joke - here's McCoy yet again being perturbed by Spock's Vulcan-ness. Yet, as you'll see if you read, there's not as much logic involved as you might think.
https://www.trekbbs.com/threads/contemplative-silence-repost.313803/
Basically, the premise is that Spock pursues a Vulcan discipline known as Contemplative Silence, that has several different types of literature, art, merchandise, and activities associated with it. It really began as a one-off joke - here's McCoy yet again being perturbed by Spock's Vulcan-ness. Yet, as you'll see if you read, there's not as much logic involved as you might think.
https://www.trekbbs.com/threads/contemplative-silence-repost.313803/
"Schooling the Captain" (part of my Kelvinverse "Trek Tales" series)
He should have known better than to think he was safe from intruders.
Leonard shifted his backside, trying to get comfortable on the well-worn campstool. Sighing languidly, he peered around the edge of the wet canvas, looking for a better angle through the early morning haze. The clear blue freshwater lake stretched out as far as the eye could see. Sweeping pine trees surrounded its banks, their long dangling branches lazily poking the air. Across the water, a faint glimmer of sunrise twinkled a dreamy purplish blue-gold.
Behind the wooden pier he now perched on the edge of, a wooden sloped roof lake house sat, its dark walls and high windows blending with the forest behind it. French doors lead to a small deck which jutted out over the water like a figurehead on a ship. There, a pair of Adirondack chairs extended an invitation to curl up under a throw blanket with a hot cup of tea and watch the loons that glided slowly by. Every now and then one would release its signature cry so reminiscent of insane laughter.
It was a nice place. For a holographic program, that is.
He chuckled softly to himself, setting down his palette on the dock to give the old fishing hat he wore a good tug. Maybe I am crazy. Painting a picture of a holo-simulated location… Picking up the palette again, he reached for a soft horsehair paintbrush and dabbed it in a deep lavender color. This would be the cloud that now rested just to his left, a rather feathery oval. He wisped the bristles gently across the canvas, leaving a faint suggestion of vapor, before blending a little light gray with the underside.
Perfect. I think I captured it. He had been working on this painting for a solid 3 months now, whenever he could find the time between having to resuscitate Jim – again- or find some cure for a brand new breed of nasty malevolent viral infection. It was a hobby that Spock had suggested to him in one of his less guarded moments. Well what do you know? He actually had a good idea this time. He found himself oddly soothed by the way the brush danced across the page, calling into reality a miniature version of the scene approximated before him.
Since most of McCoy's experiences with nature didn't leave him near enough time to appreciate the scenery, he'd decided to experiment with this program, based on a lakefront lodge he'd briefly considered buying in the early days of his marriage. Considering how long that had lasted, he figured that in retrospect, it was probably a good thing he hadn't. Something else she would've gotten. At least Pam can't take this from me…
He stroked his chin, studying the interplay of light and color on the water. Hmmm…have I got the reflection exactly right? It was hard to tell for sure, the way the program was constantly changing. He'd tried pausing the program, but ironically, despite the fact that his finished work would freeze one moment in time, using a still shot for inspiration seemed wrong. If I could just get across that sense of time passing, constantly changing…but in one painting… Leonard rubbed his forehead, squinting.
He opened his eyes as a whisper of shadow passed overhead. A lone goose soared through the fog and disappeared, its wide wings flapping in a steady rhythm. Leonard smiled. Sometimes the randomness of this program surprised even him.
Dipping his paintbrush in an old coffee mug with the handle broken off, he cleaned the tip, swirling it around. He pressed it against the edge. Smoky purple water ran down the edge over the words "Starfleet Medical". He raised the palette and selected a muted gray for the goose's silhouette.
Just as he was about to stroke the avian into pigmentary existence, "WHOO-HOO HOO!" A loud loon call echoed from behind his head, shattering the stillness of the lake.
"WHUH!" McCoy jumped up from the stool, knocking over his easel with a loud clatter and sending paint and dirty water splashing all over the pier. His brush rolled away, dropping into the water with a quiet ploop, followed by the palette, which had landed on its edge and spun in circles before taking a swan dive of its own. The stool tipped to one side, but fortunately, remained high and dry.
He stepped over the easel and gingerly approached the edge of the dock, swearing under his breath. His canvas lay flat on its back, covered in splattered droplets of paint water. Peachy. Bending over at the waist, he grabbed the work in progress by the edges and set it down behind him. He straightened up again, hands on hips. Retrieving the palette and brush would be as easy as saying, "Computer, end program." But something defiant in him didn't want to leave just yet.
"WHOO-HOO-HOO!"
"AHH!" Leonard gasped, whipping his head from side to side as he tried to identify the source of the sound. It didn't take him long.
Jim materialized out of the mist, his face a boyish mix of brat and frat boy. He approached Leonard with a mischievous grin on his face. "Did I scare you, Bones?" he chuckled. McCoy said nothing, letting his "I am not amused" frown speak volumes.
Jim appeared not to notice, though, but merely clapped Leonard on the shoulder before cupping his hands around his mouth and imitating the cry once more, "Whoo-hoo-h-" before giving in to laughter again. A single tear ran down his cheek and he brushed it away. "Heh, heh, heh…oh man… need some help? Let me just…" His voice trailed off as he stepped around Leonard and headed towards the end of the pier, stooping next to the collapsed easel.
In that moment, something snapped inside McCoy. Without thinking, he stomped over to the captain and planted his boot in the seat of the captain's pants. Kirk let out a yelp and lost his balance, flying into the frigid water headfirst with a loud SPLASH!
"That'll learn ya!" McCoy barked.
For the next two minutes, he stood there watching Jim sputter and cough as he thrashed about in the lake. His blond hair was plastered to his head, while his lips had turned almost as blue as his eyes. "B-bones! What did you do that for!?" He reached up one hand and wiped his eyes, squinting, before resuming his shocked expression.
Ha! You want to be a loon, you're going to have to swim like one…
Eventually, though, he took pity on Jim. Or maybe his doctor instincts kicked in. Real or imagined, the chilly lake could still induce hypothermia or pneumonia. The last thing he wanted was to have to officially document his part in this whole fiasco.
Five minutes later, they were up on the deck, Kirk cocooned in a plaid fleece blanket pulled up over his head. His shaky hands poked out of an opening, gratefully accepting a mug of hot, strong tea. He took a sip, sighing before setting it down on the table between them. He drew the blanket tighter and met Leonard's concerned but amused gaze. "I-I c-c-could have you court-martialed for th-th-this, y'know," he threatened without malice. "D-didn't you take an oath or s-something?"
Leonard regarded him for a moment before speaking. "Really, you had it comin', kid. Don't deny it."
Kirk let out a slow breath. He smiled. "Maybe I did. But-hachoo!" He rubbed his nose, sniffling. "I'll get eben wit you if it's de last thig I do. Hachoo!" He buried his snotty face in the folds of the blanket. Ew.
McCoy sighed deeply, looking out over the water again. The mist was dissipating, giving way to a gorgeous blue sky. Memorize it, Leonard. Something tells me you're not gonna see this place for at least a week...maybe longer…
He should have known better than to think he was safe from intruders.
Leonard shifted his backside, trying to get comfortable on the well-worn campstool. Sighing languidly, he peered around the edge of the wet canvas, looking for a better angle through the early morning haze. The clear blue freshwater lake stretched out as far as the eye could see. Sweeping pine trees surrounded its banks, their long dangling branches lazily poking the air. Across the water, a faint glimmer of sunrise twinkled a dreamy purplish blue-gold.
Behind the wooden pier he now perched on the edge of, a wooden sloped roof lake house sat, its dark walls and high windows blending with the forest behind it. French doors lead to a small deck which jutted out over the water like a figurehead on a ship. There, a pair of Adirondack chairs extended an invitation to curl up under a throw blanket with a hot cup of tea and watch the loons that glided slowly by. Every now and then one would release its signature cry so reminiscent of insane laughter.
It was a nice place. For a holographic program, that is.
He chuckled softly to himself, setting down his palette on the dock to give the old fishing hat he wore a good tug. Maybe I am crazy. Painting a picture of a holo-simulated location… Picking up the palette again, he reached for a soft horsehair paintbrush and dabbed it in a deep lavender color. This would be the cloud that now rested just to his left, a rather feathery oval. He wisped the bristles gently across the canvas, leaving a faint suggestion of vapor, before blending a little light gray with the underside.
Perfect. I think I captured it. He had been working on this painting for a solid 3 months now, whenever he could find the time between having to resuscitate Jim – again- or find some cure for a brand new breed of nasty malevolent viral infection. It was a hobby that Spock had suggested to him in one of his less guarded moments. Well what do you know? He actually had a good idea this time. He found himself oddly soothed by the way the brush danced across the page, calling into reality a miniature version of the scene approximated before him.
Since most of McCoy's experiences with nature didn't leave him near enough time to appreciate the scenery, he'd decided to experiment with this program, based on a lakefront lodge he'd briefly considered buying in the early days of his marriage. Considering how long that had lasted, he figured that in retrospect, it was probably a good thing he hadn't. Something else she would've gotten. At least Pam can't take this from me…
He stroked his chin, studying the interplay of light and color on the water. Hmmm…have I got the reflection exactly right? It was hard to tell for sure, the way the program was constantly changing. He'd tried pausing the program, but ironically, despite the fact that his finished work would freeze one moment in time, using a still shot for inspiration seemed wrong. If I could just get across that sense of time passing, constantly changing…but in one painting… Leonard rubbed his forehead, squinting.
He opened his eyes as a whisper of shadow passed overhead. A lone goose soared through the fog and disappeared, its wide wings flapping in a steady rhythm. Leonard smiled. Sometimes the randomness of this program surprised even him.
Dipping his paintbrush in an old coffee mug with the handle broken off, he cleaned the tip, swirling it around. He pressed it against the edge. Smoky purple water ran down the edge over the words "Starfleet Medical". He raised the palette and selected a muted gray for the goose's silhouette.
Just as he was about to stroke the avian into pigmentary existence, "WHOO-HOO HOO!" A loud loon call echoed from behind his head, shattering the stillness of the lake.
"WHUH!" McCoy jumped up from the stool, knocking over his easel with a loud clatter and sending paint and dirty water splashing all over the pier. His brush rolled away, dropping into the water with a quiet ploop, followed by the palette, which had landed on its edge and spun in circles before taking a swan dive of its own. The stool tipped to one side, but fortunately, remained high and dry.
He stepped over the easel and gingerly approached the edge of the dock, swearing under his breath. His canvas lay flat on its back, covered in splattered droplets of paint water. Peachy. Bending over at the waist, he grabbed the work in progress by the edges and set it down behind him. He straightened up again, hands on hips. Retrieving the palette and brush would be as easy as saying, "Computer, end program." But something defiant in him didn't want to leave just yet.
"WHOO-HOO-HOO!"
"AHH!" Leonard gasped, whipping his head from side to side as he tried to identify the source of the sound. It didn't take him long.
Jim materialized out of the mist, his face a boyish mix of brat and frat boy. He approached Leonard with a mischievous grin on his face. "Did I scare you, Bones?" he chuckled. McCoy said nothing, letting his "I am not amused" frown speak volumes.
Jim appeared not to notice, though, but merely clapped Leonard on the shoulder before cupping his hands around his mouth and imitating the cry once more, "Whoo-hoo-h-" before giving in to laughter again. A single tear ran down his cheek and he brushed it away. "Heh, heh, heh…oh man… need some help? Let me just…" His voice trailed off as he stepped around Leonard and headed towards the end of the pier, stooping next to the collapsed easel.
In that moment, something snapped inside McCoy. Without thinking, he stomped over to the captain and planted his boot in the seat of the captain's pants. Kirk let out a yelp and lost his balance, flying into the frigid water headfirst with a loud SPLASH!
"That'll learn ya!" McCoy barked.
For the next two minutes, he stood there watching Jim sputter and cough as he thrashed about in the lake. His blond hair was plastered to his head, while his lips had turned almost as blue as his eyes. "B-bones! What did you do that for!?" He reached up one hand and wiped his eyes, squinting, before resuming his shocked expression.
Ha! You want to be a loon, you're going to have to swim like one…
Eventually, though, he took pity on Jim. Or maybe his doctor instincts kicked in. Real or imagined, the chilly lake could still induce hypothermia or pneumonia. The last thing he wanted was to have to officially document his part in this whole fiasco.
Five minutes later, they were up on the deck, Kirk cocooned in a plaid fleece blanket pulled up over his head. His shaky hands poked out of an opening, gratefully accepting a mug of hot, strong tea. He took a sip, sighing before setting it down on the table between them. He drew the blanket tighter and met Leonard's concerned but amused gaze. "I-I c-c-could have you court-martialed for th-th-this, y'know," he threatened without malice. "D-didn't you take an oath or s-something?"
Leonard regarded him for a moment before speaking. "Really, you had it comin', kid. Don't deny it."
Kirk let out a slow breath. He smiled. "Maybe I did. But-hachoo!" He rubbed his nose, sniffling. "I'll get eben wit you if it's de last thig I do. Hachoo!" He buried his snotty face in the folds of the blanket. Ew.
McCoy sighed deeply, looking out over the water again. The mist was dissipating, giving way to a gorgeous blue sky. Memorize it, Leonard. Something tells me you're not gonna see this place for at least a week...maybe longer…
There's an image for you. Revenge, comeuppance, ha ha ha ha.
Funny how Kirk used the word "eben" (even) when he just agreed that he might have had it coming to him. Seems like some people are never satisfied unless the scales are tipped in their favor.
-Will
Well, he did say "maybe". He reserves the right to re-calculate their score in his favor.
Revenge is a dish best served cold and wet.
Unless you can get your hands on a flamethrower.
That could really get your enemy steamed.
-Will
-Will
The Vulcan Who Knew Too Much
"Pre-flight checks are in progress, sir. I've got Radinski taking the lead; he could use the experience." Scotty slid the flap door into place and gave it a thump with his fist. "That should hold. Lad's the youngest of eleven children - can you imagine? - an' was always on the bottom of the pile." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. "He's got a natural instinct for people, though. Good listener, too." He glanced past Kirk towards the conference room door. "An' seein' as how we're in spacedock, I figure I can spare a few moments."
"Doesn't hurt that the coffee's good and hot." Kirk laughed. "I still have nightmares about that swill you fixed me two months ago during command duty training." He grimaced. "If that's what you engineers all run on, you really are miracle workers." Kirk stroked his chin, mouth firm but eyes twinkling. "Does Doctor McCoy know about your reliance on performance-enhancing substances?"
"We have a deal, Leonard and me," Scott replied, pushing away from the wall. "He dinna pester me about me caffeine intake," he whispered, cupping one hand to his mouth, "and I'll nae breathe a word about where he stashes his...beverages." He winked as they entered the room together.
At the opposite end of the room, the rest of the starship's senior staff were clustered together near a large window overlooking one section of Deep Space Station F-3's docking ring. Uhura stood next to Spock, pointing out a small passenger ship that was parked two slots over. She turned to her left as Chekov remarked while gesticulating with one hand. McCoy bent his head over a tablet, tapping out a message to someone, his forehead furrowed. Sulu inspected a red flowering plant in the corner, one finger stroking the underside of a blossom. His brows quirked as he spied the new arrivals out of the corner of his eye. Straightening, he smiled at Kirk and Scotty. "Captain. Mr. Scott. Good thing you got here. The ambassador was just about to tell us about his negotiations with the Moiteelo."
"Ambassador?" Kirk's mouth twitched. "I just checked my messages five minutes ago. According to the latest personnel/passenger transfer list, we're expecting an astrophysicist and his preteen daughter, a weapons control specialist, and three computer technicians. No diplomats." He shrugged. "Gotta love Starfleet bureaucracy."
"Your tone suggests something other than love, Jim," a gravelly voice replied with just a hint of amusement. A familiar Vulcan stepped around Chekov until he was standing between the crowd and the two men who had just entered.
"Wrinkly Spock," Scotty muttered.
Kirk elbowed the engineer in the ribs and hurried over to greet the elder Spock with the Vulcan salute, which was returned. "Welcome, Ambassador. We weren't expecting you."
"Didn't you get the message I sent you?" When Kirk's eyes widened slightly, Spock Prime tapped the right side of his head. "Ah. Next time, I shall use a more reliable form of communication."
"Human brain, remember? So. Passenger or visitor?"
"Visitor." The ambassador looked back over his shoulder at the passenger ship Uhura had indicated previously. A repair drone hovered over a section of hull plating that was dangling from the side of the ship. Several other plates were blackened. "The T'Sola-Kho suffered a malfunction in its shields that caused a feedback loop, leading to the damage you see before you. I am told we will be docked here for four days, at least." He smiled. "I hope my presence here will not cause any problems."
Kirk smiled. "Are you kidding? It's always good to have you aboard," he continued, gesturing toward the table, "but as you can see, we're about to have a staff meeting." At the word "meeting", the senior staff members began to move away from the windows and towards the conference table, still engaged in light conversation while occasionally glancing over at Kirk and Spock Prime.
The captain walked beside Spock Prime in the direction of the door. "Would you mind waiting in my office until we're done here? Or maybe you'd prefer to visit the astronomy lab. We just had a new telescope retrofitted-"
Spock Prime held up a hand. "Actually, if you would permit it, I would like to observe your gathering." He gestured towards a chair at the end of the table. "I have found watching you interact with your crew, including my young counterpart, to be rather pleasant."
"Kind of like going back home, you mean." Kirk pulled out his chair and indicated that Spock Prime should sit as well.
"Back in space and time."
"Or having an out-of-body experience." McCoy took the seat between Kirk and young Spock, eying the latter before shifting his gaze to the ambassador. "It's not like anything we discuss today is going to take you by surprise. Heck, you've probably already attended this same meeting in your own universe."
"Perhaps, with one exception. I distinctly do not recall having had this conversation before, doctor." Spock Prime raised a single brow.
"Duh," McCoy exclaimed, eliciting laughter from the rest of the crew, except for the younger Spock, who exhaled softly.
After calling the meeting to order, Kirk asked Uhura to read the minutes of the previous meeting. From time to time, he would glance down the table to where Spock Prime sat. Emotions flickered in the elderly Vulcan's eyes as the communications officer summarized the discussion they'd participated in a week earlier.
"...resulting vote was unanimously in favor of converting a section on deck eleven into a tactical simulation room." Uhura folded her hands in front of her. "The meeting was adjourned and refreshments were served."
Sulu licked his lips. "I can still taste the maple walnut ice cream." He held up one hand as Chekov opened his mouth. "And so help me, Pavel, if you tell us it was invented in Russia, I'll tear out my hair."
"I vasn't going to say that." Chekov smiled sheepishly, his face the picture of innocence. "But now that you mention it-" He ducked out of the way as Sulu's hand sailed past his head.
"Come now, laddie." Scotty gave a look of mock offence. "Everyone knows that ice cream is an Edinburgh creation. Right, Nyota?"
Uhura held her hands up. "Oh, no, boys. I'm staying out of this one," she laughed, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the carafe.
"Jim, I'd like to know what you plan to do about replacing Dr. Stromberg." McCoy looked up from his tablet, where he'd been doodling a geometric design in the lower right hand corner of the page. "Dentistry isn't my specialty."
Spock folded his hands together. "And bioluminescence is not my forte. Yet I was able to substitute for Ensign Collier for the duration of her leave by consulting her notes prior to the survey mission as well as several texts from the ship's database."
McCoy frowned, his stylus pausing mid-stroke, and pointed at Spock. "Anyone can take samples and perform resonance scans. Performing a complicated dental procedure is another matter." He eyed Kirk. "I also have a suspicion that two members of our crew have been nursing secret toothaches for the last month or so."
"Could you not just order them to report to sickbay, Doctor?" Spock pressed.
"Or drag them?" This from Kirk, who grabbed a handful of his own collar and twisted it, yanking it to one side as his eyes rolled back in his head.
McCoy shook his head. "I'd rather not have to. They've never caused me any trouble before." He moved the tip of his stylus in a circle. "Just promise you'll put a bug in Personnel's ear for me. Preferably before we head out."
"I'll take care of it, Bones," Kirk assured him. He shot a glance over at Spock Prime. The ambassador had been watching their interactions with a fond look in his eyes, even as he appeared to be staring beyond them at another scene from his own past. "Getting back to the agenda, our first order of business is planning our itinerary for the next month."
He folded his hands together. "Barring any unforeseen circumstances, that is. After we depart F-3, Starfleet has asked us to transport a shipment of ghenoride drill bits to Toualt II-"
"Mmmm." Spock Prime's brows dipped in a concerned expression.
"What is it?" Uhura asked, brows quirked.
"I can't tell you," the ambassador replied gruffly.
Kirk paused, then continued. "-to resupply the mining camps there. Mr. Chekov has already plotted the swiftest course through the Semple Gap and past the outer edge of the Iora system."
"Hmm."
"Did you say something, ambassador?" Spock asked. The other officers leaned towards the end of the table, waiting for his answer.
Spock Prime waved a hand dismissively. "Never mind. Please, continue."
Kirk reached for his coffee and took a sip. "Thank you. Unloading the cargo should only take a couple of hours. After that, next stop is the Veu-Masgar Cluster-"
Spock Prime covered his mouth with one hand. "Ah."
"Ah what?" Chekov asked, glancing at Sulu, who shrugged.
Spock Prime opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and clamped his lips shut. "I can't tell you."
Kirk gripped his tablet tightly. "Long range sensors indicate a steady increase in radiation emissions. We'll spend a week studying the cluster's effects." He scrolled down the page. "From there, we'll proceed to Stengalt VI, where we have been invited to participate in a local harvest festival. I'm sure it'll be a welcome break after..." He glanced up. Spock Prime shook his head back and forth, mouthing the word "No."
Kirk sighed. "Moving on...Professor Ambrose Gibson has offered to give us a tour of his new medical laboratory on Mundo XI. As I recall, he taught neurology at your alma mater, Bones, am I right?" At McCoy's nod, he opened his mouth to continue. "I've heard great things about his experiments with neural implants..."
"Oooooh," Spock Prime interrupted, clenching one hand into a fist. He looked at McCoy with pity.
Kirk stood up and leaned forward over the table. "Does any of this sound familiar to you, Ambassador?" The Vulcan did not reply. Running his fingers through his hair, Kirk squeezed his eyes shut. "Look, do me a favor, okay? Either tell me what happened to your Enterprise when they did what we're about to do and why we should stay as far away as possible, or kindly cut out all the "mmm"ing and "ahhhh"ing."
The Vulcan's face flushed green. "Excuse me."
Kirk inhaled and blew the air out of his mouth. "After all, as I recall, it was you who once told us that under no circumstances could you divulge details about our counterparts in your reality. You had to allow events to progress as normally as possible."
A nod of assent. "I did say that, yes."
Scotty tapped his fingers on the table. "Uh, sir? Canna we just ask him about our upcoming military exercises with the Indomitable? I've been having second thoughts about those firing maneuvers..." He leaned forward and stared down the table. Spock Prime's face was a mask of neutrality, aside from a slight downturn of one corner of his mouth.
"Vhat about the first contact with the Sybavians? They've been deweloping varp drive for the last seven years. A successful test is imminent." Chekov's shoulders slumped as Spock Prime looked away. "According to observation reports, their society is quite varlike."
Kirk flopped into his chair. "Bones?"
McCoy leaned on one hand, his expression pensive. "I just keep thinking about Ambrose. He was always an ambitious man...but being out on the frontier alone for years at a time changes you. I wouldn't mind a heads-up."
The younger Spock shook his head. "We must resist the temptation."
"Now wait a minute. You asked him about Khan!" McCoy protested. A chorus of "yeahs" sounded around the table.
Spock waited until the noise died down. "Yes, I did. And he told me nothing revealing. While Ambassador Spock's knowledge would be helpful to us in much the way that military intelligence can aid Starfleet, we cannot consult him on every matter. As we have already seen, certain events have progressed differently in our reality than in his, and as such, his information would be useless, even harmful. Furthermore, if we fail to do something which must be done because of his warnings, lives might be needlessly lost."
Uhura placed her hand on his, squeezing it. "He has a point, guys. We have to live our own lives, not his."
McCoy frowned. "If we do what we already did in the other reality, we are living his life. Making his mistakes all over again. Killing the same people all over again." He let out a soul-deep sigh. "Without him, we just kill different people. Maybe make things worse." One hand rubbed his forehead. "Great. Now I have a headache."
"Are we all agreed then?" Kirk asked. After a moment, everyone reluctantly nodded. Spock Prime pushed his chair back and stood up slowly. "Where are you going, sir?"
"I think," the elderly Vulcan began, heading towards the doorway, "it might be better for everyone if I leave now. I believe I will visit the astronomy lab, after all." He had just exited the room when the wall comm whistled, attracting the attention of the remaining personnel.
"Bridge to Captain Kirk."
"Go ahead, bridge," Kirk replied.
"Sir, we've just received a distress call from an unknown craft. Long range sensors indicate it's coming from the Pi Delta system." Fingers tapped on a screen. "We're the closest ship in the sector, about ten minutes away."
"Set course then. I'll be there shortly." Kirk pushed in his chair and collected his tablet from the table as the rest of the senior staff did likewise, the low hum of their conversations audible.
"Ho, ho, heh, heh, heh." Spock Prime's laughter reverberated down the corridors, interrupting them. "Oh, no."
McCoy shot Kirk and Spock a concerned look. "I don't like the sound of that."
"Pre-flight checks are in progress, sir. I've got Radinski taking the lead; he could use the experience." Scotty slid the flap door into place and gave it a thump with his fist. "That should hold. Lad's the youngest of eleven children - can you imagine? - an' was always on the bottom of the pile." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. "He's got a natural instinct for people, though. Good listener, too." He glanced past Kirk towards the conference room door. "An' seein' as how we're in spacedock, I figure I can spare a few moments."
"Doesn't hurt that the coffee's good and hot." Kirk laughed. "I still have nightmares about that swill you fixed me two months ago during command duty training." He grimaced. "If that's what you engineers all run on, you really are miracle workers." Kirk stroked his chin, mouth firm but eyes twinkling. "Does Doctor McCoy know about your reliance on performance-enhancing substances?"
"We have a deal, Leonard and me," Scott replied, pushing away from the wall. "He dinna pester me about me caffeine intake," he whispered, cupping one hand to his mouth, "and I'll nae breathe a word about where he stashes his...beverages." He winked as they entered the room together.
At the opposite end of the room, the rest of the starship's senior staff were clustered together near a large window overlooking one section of Deep Space Station F-3's docking ring. Uhura stood next to Spock, pointing out a small passenger ship that was parked two slots over. She turned to her left as Chekov remarked while gesticulating with one hand. McCoy bent his head over a tablet, tapping out a message to someone, his forehead furrowed. Sulu inspected a red flowering plant in the corner, one finger stroking the underside of a blossom. His brows quirked as he spied the new arrivals out of the corner of his eye. Straightening, he smiled at Kirk and Scotty. "Captain. Mr. Scott. Good thing you got here. The ambassador was just about to tell us about his negotiations with the Moiteelo."
"Ambassador?" Kirk's mouth twitched. "I just checked my messages five minutes ago. According to the latest personnel/passenger transfer list, we're expecting an astrophysicist and his preteen daughter, a weapons control specialist, and three computer technicians. No diplomats." He shrugged. "Gotta love Starfleet bureaucracy."
"Your tone suggests something other than love, Jim," a gravelly voice replied with just a hint of amusement. A familiar Vulcan stepped around Chekov until he was standing between the crowd and the two men who had just entered.
"Wrinkly Spock," Scotty muttered.
Kirk elbowed the engineer in the ribs and hurried over to greet the elder Spock with the Vulcan salute, which was returned. "Welcome, Ambassador. We weren't expecting you."
"Didn't you get the message I sent you?" When Kirk's eyes widened slightly, Spock Prime tapped the right side of his head. "Ah. Next time, I shall use a more reliable form of communication."
"Human brain, remember? So. Passenger or visitor?"
"Visitor." The ambassador looked back over his shoulder at the passenger ship Uhura had indicated previously. A repair drone hovered over a section of hull plating that was dangling from the side of the ship. Several other plates were blackened. "The T'Sola-Kho suffered a malfunction in its shields that caused a feedback loop, leading to the damage you see before you. I am told we will be docked here for four days, at least." He smiled. "I hope my presence here will not cause any problems."
Kirk smiled. "Are you kidding? It's always good to have you aboard," he continued, gesturing toward the table, "but as you can see, we're about to have a staff meeting." At the word "meeting", the senior staff members began to move away from the windows and towards the conference table, still engaged in light conversation while occasionally glancing over at Kirk and Spock Prime.
The captain walked beside Spock Prime in the direction of the door. "Would you mind waiting in my office until we're done here? Or maybe you'd prefer to visit the astronomy lab. We just had a new telescope retrofitted-"
Spock Prime held up a hand. "Actually, if you would permit it, I would like to observe your gathering." He gestured towards a chair at the end of the table. "I have found watching you interact with your crew, including my young counterpart, to be rather pleasant."
"Kind of like going back home, you mean." Kirk pulled out his chair and indicated that Spock Prime should sit as well.
"Back in space and time."
"Or having an out-of-body experience." McCoy took the seat between Kirk and young Spock, eying the latter before shifting his gaze to the ambassador. "It's not like anything we discuss today is going to take you by surprise. Heck, you've probably already attended this same meeting in your own universe."
"Perhaps, with one exception. I distinctly do not recall having had this conversation before, doctor." Spock Prime raised a single brow.
"Duh," McCoy exclaimed, eliciting laughter from the rest of the crew, except for the younger Spock, who exhaled softly.
After calling the meeting to order, Kirk asked Uhura to read the minutes of the previous meeting. From time to time, he would glance down the table to where Spock Prime sat. Emotions flickered in the elderly Vulcan's eyes as the communications officer summarized the discussion they'd participated in a week earlier.
"...resulting vote was unanimously in favor of converting a section on deck eleven into a tactical simulation room." Uhura folded her hands in front of her. "The meeting was adjourned and refreshments were served."
Sulu licked his lips. "I can still taste the maple walnut ice cream." He held up one hand as Chekov opened his mouth. "And so help me, Pavel, if you tell us it was invented in Russia, I'll tear out my hair."
"I vasn't going to say that." Chekov smiled sheepishly, his face the picture of innocence. "But now that you mention it-" He ducked out of the way as Sulu's hand sailed past his head.
"Come now, laddie." Scotty gave a look of mock offence. "Everyone knows that ice cream is an Edinburgh creation. Right, Nyota?"
Uhura held her hands up. "Oh, no, boys. I'm staying out of this one," she laughed, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the carafe.
"Jim, I'd like to know what you plan to do about replacing Dr. Stromberg." McCoy looked up from his tablet, where he'd been doodling a geometric design in the lower right hand corner of the page. "Dentistry isn't my specialty."
Spock folded his hands together. "And bioluminescence is not my forte. Yet I was able to substitute for Ensign Collier for the duration of her leave by consulting her notes prior to the survey mission as well as several texts from the ship's database."
McCoy frowned, his stylus pausing mid-stroke, and pointed at Spock. "Anyone can take samples and perform resonance scans. Performing a complicated dental procedure is another matter." He eyed Kirk. "I also have a suspicion that two members of our crew have been nursing secret toothaches for the last month or so."
"Could you not just order them to report to sickbay, Doctor?" Spock pressed.
"Or drag them?" This from Kirk, who grabbed a handful of his own collar and twisted it, yanking it to one side as his eyes rolled back in his head.
McCoy shook his head. "I'd rather not have to. They've never caused me any trouble before." He moved the tip of his stylus in a circle. "Just promise you'll put a bug in Personnel's ear for me. Preferably before we head out."
"I'll take care of it, Bones," Kirk assured him. He shot a glance over at Spock Prime. The ambassador had been watching their interactions with a fond look in his eyes, even as he appeared to be staring beyond them at another scene from his own past. "Getting back to the agenda, our first order of business is planning our itinerary for the next month."
He folded his hands together. "Barring any unforeseen circumstances, that is. After we depart F-3, Starfleet has asked us to transport a shipment of ghenoride drill bits to Toualt II-"
"Mmmm." Spock Prime's brows dipped in a concerned expression.
"What is it?" Uhura asked, brows quirked.
"I can't tell you," the ambassador replied gruffly.
Kirk paused, then continued. "-to resupply the mining camps there. Mr. Chekov has already plotted the swiftest course through the Semple Gap and past the outer edge of the Iora system."
"Hmm."
"Did you say something, ambassador?" Spock asked. The other officers leaned towards the end of the table, waiting for his answer.
Spock Prime waved a hand dismissively. "Never mind. Please, continue."
Kirk reached for his coffee and took a sip. "Thank you. Unloading the cargo should only take a couple of hours. After that, next stop is the Veu-Masgar Cluster-"
Spock Prime covered his mouth with one hand. "Ah."
"Ah what?" Chekov asked, glancing at Sulu, who shrugged.
Spock Prime opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and clamped his lips shut. "I can't tell you."
Kirk gripped his tablet tightly. "Long range sensors indicate a steady increase in radiation emissions. We'll spend a week studying the cluster's effects." He scrolled down the page. "From there, we'll proceed to Stengalt VI, where we have been invited to participate in a local harvest festival. I'm sure it'll be a welcome break after..." He glanced up. Spock Prime shook his head back and forth, mouthing the word "No."
Kirk sighed. "Moving on...Professor Ambrose Gibson has offered to give us a tour of his new medical laboratory on Mundo XI. As I recall, he taught neurology at your alma mater, Bones, am I right?" At McCoy's nod, he opened his mouth to continue. "I've heard great things about his experiments with neural implants..."
"Oooooh," Spock Prime interrupted, clenching one hand into a fist. He looked at McCoy with pity.
Kirk stood up and leaned forward over the table. "Does any of this sound familiar to you, Ambassador?" The Vulcan did not reply. Running his fingers through his hair, Kirk squeezed his eyes shut. "Look, do me a favor, okay? Either tell me what happened to your Enterprise when they did what we're about to do and why we should stay as far away as possible, or kindly cut out all the "mmm"ing and "ahhhh"ing."
The Vulcan's face flushed green. "Excuse me."
Kirk inhaled and blew the air out of his mouth. "After all, as I recall, it was you who once told us that under no circumstances could you divulge details about our counterparts in your reality. You had to allow events to progress as normally as possible."
A nod of assent. "I did say that, yes."
Scotty tapped his fingers on the table. "Uh, sir? Canna we just ask him about our upcoming military exercises with the Indomitable? I've been having second thoughts about those firing maneuvers..." He leaned forward and stared down the table. Spock Prime's face was a mask of neutrality, aside from a slight downturn of one corner of his mouth.
"Vhat about the first contact with the Sybavians? They've been deweloping varp drive for the last seven years. A successful test is imminent." Chekov's shoulders slumped as Spock Prime looked away. "According to observation reports, their society is quite varlike."
Kirk flopped into his chair. "Bones?"
McCoy leaned on one hand, his expression pensive. "I just keep thinking about Ambrose. He was always an ambitious man...but being out on the frontier alone for years at a time changes you. I wouldn't mind a heads-up."
The younger Spock shook his head. "We must resist the temptation."
"Now wait a minute. You asked him about Khan!" McCoy protested. A chorus of "yeahs" sounded around the table.
Spock waited until the noise died down. "Yes, I did. And he told me nothing revealing. While Ambassador Spock's knowledge would be helpful to us in much the way that military intelligence can aid Starfleet, we cannot consult him on every matter. As we have already seen, certain events have progressed differently in our reality than in his, and as such, his information would be useless, even harmful. Furthermore, if we fail to do something which must be done because of his warnings, lives might be needlessly lost."
Uhura placed her hand on his, squeezing it. "He has a point, guys. We have to live our own lives, not his."
McCoy frowned. "If we do what we already did in the other reality, we are living his life. Making his mistakes all over again. Killing the same people all over again." He let out a soul-deep sigh. "Without him, we just kill different people. Maybe make things worse." One hand rubbed his forehead. "Great. Now I have a headache."
"Are we all agreed then?" Kirk asked. After a moment, everyone reluctantly nodded. Spock Prime pushed his chair back and stood up slowly. "Where are you going, sir?"
"I think," the elderly Vulcan began, heading towards the doorway, "it might be better for everyone if I leave now. I believe I will visit the astronomy lab, after all." He had just exited the room when the wall comm whistled, attracting the attention of the remaining personnel.
"Bridge to Captain Kirk."
"Go ahead, bridge," Kirk replied.
"Sir, we've just received a distress call from an unknown craft. Long range sensors indicate it's coming from the Pi Delta system." Fingers tapped on a screen. "We're the closest ship in the sector, about ten minutes away."
"Set course then. I'll be there shortly." Kirk pushed in his chair and collected his tablet from the table as the rest of the senior staff did likewise, the low hum of their conversations audible.
"Ho, ho, heh, heh, heh." Spock Prime's laughter reverberated down the corridors, interrupting them. "Oh, no."
McCoy shot Kirk and Spock a concerned look. "I don't like the sound of that."
November/December's entry, from "Contemplative Silence". In which McCoy runs afoul of a Vulcan Diogenes Club (Sherlock Holmes)
"The Quiet of Letar"
Leonard materialized in the middle of a crowded intersection, one hand resting on his hip. He jumped out of the way as a bicycle sped past on one side, then stepped to the side to avoid three teenage girls who were chattering excitedly in an alien language. Crossing the street in five quick strides, he leaned against a lamp post to catch his breath, then pulled out his comm and flipped it open. "McCoy to transporter room. I got a hint for you, Bayliss; this planet happens to have several geosynchronous cartographic satellites. Try makin' use of them before beaming a man down in the middle of traffic, hmm? Unless you want to bring him back in a jar."
The English transporter operator chuckled. "Really, Doctor, I set you down in the middle of a scramble. No eighteen wheelers, hovercars, or anything of the kind. Just foot traffic. You're perfectly safe."
"Ever heard of a stampede?" The yeasty scent of baked goods drifted out of an open doorway as McCoy continued past it, headed in a westerly direction. "Just tell me where you dropped off Commander Spock." He used one hand to shade his eyes, scrutinizing two Vulcans that were walking towards him, deep in conversation. The mustached one looked over his shoulder and shouted. A smaller figure parted the two and strode out in front of them, a curious expression on her face. McCoy followed her gaze and saw that a large tree lay fallen on the sidewalk across the street, its roots torn up from the ground.
"He asked to be deposited at Pelek Park, in the Vulcan quarter of the city, doctor. That's..." Two taps on a computer screen. "...roughly two kilometers south of your present location. I can send you there, or if you wish, there are several public transport booths, a local transit system, taxis..."
"I'll walk. Just text me the coordinates."
"Cheerio, Doctor. And a pleasant leave to you."
"Thanks, Art." McCoy ended the call. A few seconds later, a marker appeared on his tricorder's geolocator program, and he followed the map indicator down two winding streets, over a small footbridge, and then down a walking trail until he found himself in a small natural area criss-crossed by several gravel walkways. Reddish brown sand covered the open areas, dotted with various rock arrangements and small flowers that lay close to the ground. The park was mostly deserted, save for a city worker who bent over a small patch of green cacti, and two joggers, all Vulcans.
He found Spock kneeling behind a yellow bush at the edge of a small pond, studying the small purple fish that darted around just beneath the surface. "Well, I made it." McCoy came around to the other side of the pond until he was standing next to the Vulcan. "All in one piece."
"I expected nothing less." Spock straightened up, brushing dust from the knees of his pant legs. "Acquoya may attract visitors from all across the quadrant, but it has a reputation for being one of the safest settlements of its kind in the 23rd century." He clasped his hands behind his back.
McCoy gave a half-smile. "Well, actually, I was referring to the transporter, not the city, but..." He took a deep breath. "Ahh. Even the air is cleaner here." His shoulders relaxed. "I guess I owe my blood pressure one. If it hadn't registered on the high side of high this time, I'd still be in sickbay, bumping somebody else up the shore leave waiting list."
Spock lifted an eyebrow. "I am curious as to how you expect it to return such a favor."
McCoy shook his head. "You got me. So," he continued, "Vulcan quarter, eh?" He gestured around at the buildings surrounding the park, which were designed in various Vulcan architectural styles, from Vuus contemporary to pre-Tonek revival. "Kinda like going back in time?"
"There are similarities," Spock agreed as they meandered down the trail leading out of the park's south gate. "Be that as it may, my reasons for visiting this section of the city go beyond mere nostalgia." He led McCoy to a transit stop just to the left of the exit. He leaned against the signpost. "I am in fact seeking the same thing you are; an opportunity for relaxation." The bus pulled up to the stop, and they boarded, passing their communicators in front of the reader. McCoy chose an aisle seat close to the middle of the vehicle, and Spock lowered himself into the window seat nearby.
As the bus moved away from the curb and began to head down the street, McCoy pocketed his communicator. "Relaxation? What? The park wasn't doing it for you?"
"While I found its landscaped setting to be restful, I had not planned to tarry long. I chose the park as a landing site chiefly because of its proximity to the transit line." Spock glanced away from the window. "Why did you seek me out? I was not expecting a companion."
"I'm a glutton for punishment." At Spock's frown, McCoy laughed. "Truth? I'm just killing time until Jim finishes some conference calls. He knows a couple of girls who live here now. We're going out to dinner together this evening, then catching a show." He rubbed the back of his neck. "At least, that's the plan, anyway. In the meantime, why don't you show me around the marketplace?" He placed one hand on his stomach. "I've got a hankering for muhs-veer noodles all of a sudden."
"Perhaps later. My destination is close to the marketplace." They leaned slightly to one side as the bus turned a corner. "Though I have never visited this planet before, my membership grants me access to all the association's branches. I am also allowed to admit guests."
"Association?" McCoy glanced out the window at a passing hovercar. "You mean like a club?" At Spock's nod, he clapped the Vulcan on the back. "I remember my good old days with Astra Terra. If I wasn't getting into trouble, I was getting Jim out of it."
Spock's mouth twitched. "You seem almost fond of your days with the Academy's fraternity, given your usual dislike for trouble."
"Ah, you had to be there." McCoy leaned back in his seat and slung one arm over Spock's shoulder. "But you know what I'm talking about, right? Funny hats, crazy songs, and all the processed meat you can eat. Or carrot sticks, in your case," he amended. "'From the known, to the unknown, from the surface to the sky...'" he sang, his words trailing off as the bus came to a stop. Two passengers exited through the back door, shuffling past McCoy and giving him odd glances. Seven more boarded, all Vulcans save one Human male wearing a casual duty Starfleet uniform.
When they had seated themselves, the bus began moving forward again. Leonard shrugged. "Anthem." He looked away, lost in thought. "Those were the days. I wonder if they have a chapter here..."
"Doubtful. The only Academy facility I know of on Acquoya is an admissions office." Spock turned to face him. "In any event, you will find the Letar Society's activities have little in common with the sort of rowdy behavior you and Jim previously engaged in." He pulled out his tricorder and studied the screen. "The next stop is ours." Spock tapped a button on the wall of the bus, stood, and began to inch down the aisle.
McCoy got up and followed him to the back exit, arriving just as the bus slid to a halt. They stepped through the open doors onto a narrow sidewalk. McCoy glanced around at the houses nearby, flanked with ornamental sand arrangements. "Uh, Spock, you sure we're in the right place? These buildings all look residential to me."
"The Letar Society occupies what was once a private dwelling, Doctor. I believe a previous member bequeathed it to the association upon his demise." Spock stepped over what appeared to be a children's toy, some kind of vehicle with wheels. He lifted his hand and pointed at a large three storey townhouse with well-manicured vines that had been trained to grow on its stone walls. A flight of rounded steps led to a small porch; a short ramp to the right appeared to be a recent addition. Simple black letters against a gray backdrop proclaimed the building to indeed be the Acquoya chapter of the Letar Society.
As McCoy followed Spock up the stairs, his hand slid up the railing. He paused for a moment, cupping his hand to his ear. "When you said this place was tame, you weren't kidding. I don't hear anything; no singing, laughing, screaming, or vomiting."
"Nor are you likely to, as I said previously." Spock arched an eyebrow. "Though you almost sound as if you were hoping for cacophony and mayhem."
"Didn't say that." He reached the top and leaned against the porch rail, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "But, hey, if whatever you guys do in there calms my frayed nerves a little, I guess I can live with it." He moved out of Spock's way as the Vulcan stepped in front of the doorway and stood there, still for several seconds. "Aren't you going to knock?"
"We shall be admitted momentarily," Spock replied, his lips pressed closed. After about a minute, the door opened. A tall stoic Vulcan stood there, clad in black robes. He raised an eyebrow at McCoy, who returned the expression, then looked to Spock. The commander nodded, which seemed to satisfy the doorman; he stiffly swept to the side, allowing them access.
"Where-" McCoy began, stopping when Spock turned and held a finger to his lips. Spying a coatrack, he removed his light jacket and hung it up on one of the hooks. "Where are we going?" he whispered as they continued down a dark corridor.
Spock ignored the question, leading McCoy through a door to their left flanked by drawn drapes, into a large common room filled with black chairs and couches. Blackout curtains covered a massive window that would ordinarily have let in the sunlight at this time of day. Several Vulcans stood, sat and reposed in various areas of the room. A black tasseled carpet hosted several individuals who were staring at nothing in particular; another sat cross-legged on a stool in the corner reading something off of a tablet. Spock beckoned to McCoy as he took a seat on the closest chair, closing his eyes.
McCoy stomped into the room and pulled Spock up off his seat, dragging him out of the room, and to the right until they were both standing behind the door curtain. "You brought me to a funeral parlour?" he hissed. "I don't even know any of these people. What do I say? I feel like an intruder. Who died?"
Spock shook his head and raised a finger in the air. "First of all, it is not-" he mouthed, but interrupted himself, clasping his hands behind his back as two women walked past into the room. He tugged McCoy by one arm in the opposite direction until they were standing behind a potted palm. "It is not a funeral parlour, Doctor," he whispered. "Please, do not say anything more while you are here. There are rules to follow."
McCoy jerked back away from him. "Which you unfortunately neglected to warn me about before we-"
Spock grabbed both of McCoy's arms tightly. "Please."
McCoy wilted, letting out a soft sigh. "Fine. But would you mind telling me exactly what one does at the Letar Society?" He held out his hands palms up.
Spock pressed his lips closed, then turned and tilted his chin upward towards the dark curtains before covering both ears with his hands. He arched an eyebrow.
The blood drained out of McCoy's face. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out once. "Contemplative Silence." One hand covered his face. "It's got a lodge. But of course." McCoy threw his hands up in the air. "Why not? It's got everything else, heaven knows," he exclaimed, pacing back and forth.
Spock grabbed one of his arms, but McCoy yanked it away again. As he spun around, he bumped into something. McCoy looked up and saw the Vulcan doorman who had admitted them to the building, glowering at him. He turned. Several society members stood at the entrance to the room, regarding him with a mixture of annoyance, curiosity, and anger. "Ummm..." McCoy glanced down at his shoes, blushing, then lifted his head towards the Vulcans, an innocent expression on his face. "Sorry?"
The Vulcans did not reply. Instead, they slowly retreated from the doorway and returned to their silent contemplation.
"Right." McCoy slowly backed up towards the front door. "Ock-spay, I ink-thay it's ime-tay to am-scray," he muttered.
A shadow loomed over him. McCoy turned. Once more, the doorman stood before him, casting a long shadow. In his hands, he held out a small opaque glass jar. McCoy reached out for it, and the doorman held it away from him, then extended it toward him again.
McCoy turned to Spock, a look of confusion on his face. "What does he want?" he mouthed.
Spock leaned toward him. "You disrupted the sacred silence of this establishment," he whispered quietly. "Those who commit such a violation are obligated to contribute to the penalty jar. No exceptions."
"Penalty jar?" McCoy mouthed, looking back and forth between Spock and the doorman, who regarded him with thinly veiled impatience. Rolling his eyes, McCoy reached into his pocket for a wad of Federation universal exchange notes and stuffed the bills into the jar, then grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on. "Well, so much for that," he sighed, hurrying towards the front door.
"Indeed." Spock glanced over his shoulder, then sped up, matching McCoy's stride. "I don't expect either of us will be welcome here any time soon," he added as they stepped onto the porch, a note of disappointment in his voice.
McCoy slowed, then stopped at the foot of the stairs. "Gee, I'm awful sorry, Spock. To get tossed out on your ear like this because of me." He kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk. "And I embarrassed you in front of all your fellow silence groupies. Might as well have paraded up and down the halls with a brass band." He sighed. "I feel like a heel."
Spock put a hand on the doctor's shoulder as another bus crested the hill, then hurried down the street to the bus stop, McCoy following after him. "You have no cause to berate yourself, Leonard. First of all, I neglected to inform you properly about the nature of the Letar Society, so that you could adequately prepare for the experience. Second, although I was fully aware of your reasons for taking this impromptu shore leave, I nevertheless exposed you to stimuli, or rather lack of same, which has already provoked a strong emotional response in you previously. Lastly..." He paused as the vehicle rolled to a stop and opened its door, then ascended the first step, one hand resting on the doorframe.
"Lastly..." McCoy waved a hand at the Vulcan.
"You are hardly to blame for your frustrations." Spock's mouth curved slightly. "Your reactions were entirely normal. For a Human," he added as he stepped up toward the fare reader.
McCoy frowned, then shrugged. "I'm not sure how to take that..." he trailed off, tapping his comm on the reader.
"My intention was neither to insult or compliment," Spock assured him as they took their seats in the back of the vehicle. He stared out the back window at the society's building until their bus rounded the corner.
McCoy glanced down at his stomach and patted it. "Oh, well. Time for lunch." He met Spock's gaze, but the Vulcan moved his head to look past him. "What are you looking at? Is Lurch watching to make sure we don't come back?" he quipped, standing in his seat and leaning over Spock's shoulder to look out the open side window on his left.
"No," Spock replied, arms crossed over his chest. "As a matter of fact, I was just imagining you...clomping around the Letar Society's parlour in full dress regalia...blasting a trumpet." He narrowed his eyes and pressed his mouth shut, a soft laugh escaping from his throat nonetheless. "I believe such a spectacle would be worth whatever penalty 'Lurch' might see fit to levy."
"Wouldn't that be a sight?" McCoy snickered, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "But you have to bring your lute." He played with the zipper of his jacket, smiling. "Knowing your compatriots, they'd probably have us arrested for disturbing the peace, and Jim will kill us both. After he stops laughing, that is." McCoy leaned back and closed his eyes. "Good thing Jim's a dab hand at creative log-writing, or we'd be in hot water with Command and the Vulcan consulate."
Spock nodded. "Yes. As I believe you might say, 'thank heaven for small mercies.'"
"The Quiet of Letar"
Leonard materialized in the middle of a crowded intersection, one hand resting on his hip. He jumped out of the way as a bicycle sped past on one side, then stepped to the side to avoid three teenage girls who were chattering excitedly in an alien language. Crossing the street in five quick strides, he leaned against a lamp post to catch his breath, then pulled out his comm and flipped it open. "McCoy to transporter room. I got a hint for you, Bayliss; this planet happens to have several geosynchronous cartographic satellites. Try makin' use of them before beaming a man down in the middle of traffic, hmm? Unless you want to bring him back in a jar."
The English transporter operator chuckled. "Really, Doctor, I set you down in the middle of a scramble. No eighteen wheelers, hovercars, or anything of the kind. Just foot traffic. You're perfectly safe."
"Ever heard of a stampede?" The yeasty scent of baked goods drifted out of an open doorway as McCoy continued past it, headed in a westerly direction. "Just tell me where you dropped off Commander Spock." He used one hand to shade his eyes, scrutinizing two Vulcans that were walking towards him, deep in conversation. The mustached one looked over his shoulder and shouted. A smaller figure parted the two and strode out in front of them, a curious expression on her face. McCoy followed her gaze and saw that a large tree lay fallen on the sidewalk across the street, its roots torn up from the ground.
"He asked to be deposited at Pelek Park, in the Vulcan quarter of the city, doctor. That's..." Two taps on a computer screen. "...roughly two kilometers south of your present location. I can send you there, or if you wish, there are several public transport booths, a local transit system, taxis..."
"I'll walk. Just text me the coordinates."
"Cheerio, Doctor. And a pleasant leave to you."
"Thanks, Art." McCoy ended the call. A few seconds later, a marker appeared on his tricorder's geolocator program, and he followed the map indicator down two winding streets, over a small footbridge, and then down a walking trail until he found himself in a small natural area criss-crossed by several gravel walkways. Reddish brown sand covered the open areas, dotted with various rock arrangements and small flowers that lay close to the ground. The park was mostly deserted, save for a city worker who bent over a small patch of green cacti, and two joggers, all Vulcans.
He found Spock kneeling behind a yellow bush at the edge of a small pond, studying the small purple fish that darted around just beneath the surface. "Well, I made it." McCoy came around to the other side of the pond until he was standing next to the Vulcan. "All in one piece."
"I expected nothing less." Spock straightened up, brushing dust from the knees of his pant legs. "Acquoya may attract visitors from all across the quadrant, but it has a reputation for being one of the safest settlements of its kind in the 23rd century." He clasped his hands behind his back.
McCoy gave a half-smile. "Well, actually, I was referring to the transporter, not the city, but..." He took a deep breath. "Ahh. Even the air is cleaner here." His shoulders relaxed. "I guess I owe my blood pressure one. If it hadn't registered on the high side of high this time, I'd still be in sickbay, bumping somebody else up the shore leave waiting list."
Spock lifted an eyebrow. "I am curious as to how you expect it to return such a favor."
McCoy shook his head. "You got me. So," he continued, "Vulcan quarter, eh?" He gestured around at the buildings surrounding the park, which were designed in various Vulcan architectural styles, from Vuus contemporary to pre-Tonek revival. "Kinda like going back in time?"
"There are similarities," Spock agreed as they meandered down the trail leading out of the park's south gate. "Be that as it may, my reasons for visiting this section of the city go beyond mere nostalgia." He led McCoy to a transit stop just to the left of the exit. He leaned against the signpost. "I am in fact seeking the same thing you are; an opportunity for relaxation." The bus pulled up to the stop, and they boarded, passing their communicators in front of the reader. McCoy chose an aisle seat close to the middle of the vehicle, and Spock lowered himself into the window seat nearby.
As the bus moved away from the curb and began to head down the street, McCoy pocketed his communicator. "Relaxation? What? The park wasn't doing it for you?"
"While I found its landscaped setting to be restful, I had not planned to tarry long. I chose the park as a landing site chiefly because of its proximity to the transit line." Spock glanced away from the window. "Why did you seek me out? I was not expecting a companion."
"I'm a glutton for punishment." At Spock's frown, McCoy laughed. "Truth? I'm just killing time until Jim finishes some conference calls. He knows a couple of girls who live here now. We're going out to dinner together this evening, then catching a show." He rubbed the back of his neck. "At least, that's the plan, anyway. In the meantime, why don't you show me around the marketplace?" He placed one hand on his stomach. "I've got a hankering for muhs-veer noodles all of a sudden."
"Perhaps later. My destination is close to the marketplace." They leaned slightly to one side as the bus turned a corner. "Though I have never visited this planet before, my membership grants me access to all the association's branches. I am also allowed to admit guests."
"Association?" McCoy glanced out the window at a passing hovercar. "You mean like a club?" At Spock's nod, he clapped the Vulcan on the back. "I remember my good old days with Astra Terra. If I wasn't getting into trouble, I was getting Jim out of it."
Spock's mouth twitched. "You seem almost fond of your days with the Academy's fraternity, given your usual dislike for trouble."
"Ah, you had to be there." McCoy leaned back in his seat and slung one arm over Spock's shoulder. "But you know what I'm talking about, right? Funny hats, crazy songs, and all the processed meat you can eat. Or carrot sticks, in your case," he amended. "'From the known, to the unknown, from the surface to the sky...'" he sang, his words trailing off as the bus came to a stop. Two passengers exited through the back door, shuffling past McCoy and giving him odd glances. Seven more boarded, all Vulcans save one Human male wearing a casual duty Starfleet uniform.
When they had seated themselves, the bus began moving forward again. Leonard shrugged. "Anthem." He looked away, lost in thought. "Those were the days. I wonder if they have a chapter here..."
"Doubtful. The only Academy facility I know of on Acquoya is an admissions office." Spock turned to face him. "In any event, you will find the Letar Society's activities have little in common with the sort of rowdy behavior you and Jim previously engaged in." He pulled out his tricorder and studied the screen. "The next stop is ours." Spock tapped a button on the wall of the bus, stood, and began to inch down the aisle.
McCoy got up and followed him to the back exit, arriving just as the bus slid to a halt. They stepped through the open doors onto a narrow sidewalk. McCoy glanced around at the houses nearby, flanked with ornamental sand arrangements. "Uh, Spock, you sure we're in the right place? These buildings all look residential to me."
"The Letar Society occupies what was once a private dwelling, Doctor. I believe a previous member bequeathed it to the association upon his demise." Spock stepped over what appeared to be a children's toy, some kind of vehicle with wheels. He lifted his hand and pointed at a large three storey townhouse with well-manicured vines that had been trained to grow on its stone walls. A flight of rounded steps led to a small porch; a short ramp to the right appeared to be a recent addition. Simple black letters against a gray backdrop proclaimed the building to indeed be the Acquoya chapter of the Letar Society.
As McCoy followed Spock up the stairs, his hand slid up the railing. He paused for a moment, cupping his hand to his ear. "When you said this place was tame, you weren't kidding. I don't hear anything; no singing, laughing, screaming, or vomiting."
"Nor are you likely to, as I said previously." Spock arched an eyebrow. "Though you almost sound as if you were hoping for cacophony and mayhem."
"Didn't say that." He reached the top and leaned against the porch rail, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "But, hey, if whatever you guys do in there calms my frayed nerves a little, I guess I can live with it." He moved out of Spock's way as the Vulcan stepped in front of the doorway and stood there, still for several seconds. "Aren't you going to knock?"
"We shall be admitted momentarily," Spock replied, his lips pressed closed. After about a minute, the door opened. A tall stoic Vulcan stood there, clad in black robes. He raised an eyebrow at McCoy, who returned the expression, then looked to Spock. The commander nodded, which seemed to satisfy the doorman; he stiffly swept to the side, allowing them access.
"Where-" McCoy began, stopping when Spock turned and held a finger to his lips. Spying a coatrack, he removed his light jacket and hung it up on one of the hooks. "Where are we going?" he whispered as they continued down a dark corridor.
Spock ignored the question, leading McCoy through a door to their left flanked by drawn drapes, into a large common room filled with black chairs and couches. Blackout curtains covered a massive window that would ordinarily have let in the sunlight at this time of day. Several Vulcans stood, sat and reposed in various areas of the room. A black tasseled carpet hosted several individuals who were staring at nothing in particular; another sat cross-legged on a stool in the corner reading something off of a tablet. Spock beckoned to McCoy as he took a seat on the closest chair, closing his eyes.
McCoy stomped into the room and pulled Spock up off his seat, dragging him out of the room, and to the right until they were both standing behind the door curtain. "You brought me to a funeral parlour?" he hissed. "I don't even know any of these people. What do I say? I feel like an intruder. Who died?"
Spock shook his head and raised a finger in the air. "First of all, it is not-" he mouthed, but interrupted himself, clasping his hands behind his back as two women walked past into the room. He tugged McCoy by one arm in the opposite direction until they were standing behind a potted palm. "It is not a funeral parlour, Doctor," he whispered. "Please, do not say anything more while you are here. There are rules to follow."
McCoy jerked back away from him. "Which you unfortunately neglected to warn me about before we-"
Spock grabbed both of McCoy's arms tightly. "Please."
McCoy wilted, letting out a soft sigh. "Fine. But would you mind telling me exactly what one does at the Letar Society?" He held out his hands palms up.
Spock pressed his lips closed, then turned and tilted his chin upward towards the dark curtains before covering both ears with his hands. He arched an eyebrow.
The blood drained out of McCoy's face. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out once. "Contemplative Silence." One hand covered his face. "It's got a lodge. But of course." McCoy threw his hands up in the air. "Why not? It's got everything else, heaven knows," he exclaimed, pacing back and forth.
Spock grabbed one of his arms, but McCoy yanked it away again. As he spun around, he bumped into something. McCoy looked up and saw the Vulcan doorman who had admitted them to the building, glowering at him. He turned. Several society members stood at the entrance to the room, regarding him with a mixture of annoyance, curiosity, and anger. "Ummm..." McCoy glanced down at his shoes, blushing, then lifted his head towards the Vulcans, an innocent expression on his face. "Sorry?"
The Vulcans did not reply. Instead, they slowly retreated from the doorway and returned to their silent contemplation.
"Right." McCoy slowly backed up towards the front door. "Ock-spay, I ink-thay it's ime-tay to am-scray," he muttered.
A shadow loomed over him. McCoy turned. Once more, the doorman stood before him, casting a long shadow. In his hands, he held out a small opaque glass jar. McCoy reached out for it, and the doorman held it away from him, then extended it toward him again.
McCoy turned to Spock, a look of confusion on his face. "What does he want?" he mouthed.
Spock leaned toward him. "You disrupted the sacred silence of this establishment," he whispered quietly. "Those who commit such a violation are obligated to contribute to the penalty jar. No exceptions."
"Penalty jar?" McCoy mouthed, looking back and forth between Spock and the doorman, who regarded him with thinly veiled impatience. Rolling his eyes, McCoy reached into his pocket for a wad of Federation universal exchange notes and stuffed the bills into the jar, then grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on. "Well, so much for that," he sighed, hurrying towards the front door.
"Indeed." Spock glanced over his shoulder, then sped up, matching McCoy's stride. "I don't expect either of us will be welcome here any time soon," he added as they stepped onto the porch, a note of disappointment in his voice.
McCoy slowed, then stopped at the foot of the stairs. "Gee, I'm awful sorry, Spock. To get tossed out on your ear like this because of me." He kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk. "And I embarrassed you in front of all your fellow silence groupies. Might as well have paraded up and down the halls with a brass band." He sighed. "I feel like a heel."
Spock put a hand on the doctor's shoulder as another bus crested the hill, then hurried down the street to the bus stop, McCoy following after him. "You have no cause to berate yourself, Leonard. First of all, I neglected to inform you properly about the nature of the Letar Society, so that you could adequately prepare for the experience. Second, although I was fully aware of your reasons for taking this impromptu shore leave, I nevertheless exposed you to stimuli, or rather lack of same, which has already provoked a strong emotional response in you previously. Lastly..." He paused as the vehicle rolled to a stop and opened its door, then ascended the first step, one hand resting on the doorframe.
"Lastly..." McCoy waved a hand at the Vulcan.
"You are hardly to blame for your frustrations." Spock's mouth curved slightly. "Your reactions were entirely normal. For a Human," he added as he stepped up toward the fare reader.
McCoy frowned, then shrugged. "I'm not sure how to take that..." he trailed off, tapping his comm on the reader.
"My intention was neither to insult or compliment," Spock assured him as they took their seats in the back of the vehicle. He stared out the back window at the society's building until their bus rounded the corner.
McCoy glanced down at his stomach and patted it. "Oh, well. Time for lunch." He met Spock's gaze, but the Vulcan moved his head to look past him. "What are you looking at? Is Lurch watching to make sure we don't come back?" he quipped, standing in his seat and leaning over Spock's shoulder to look out the open side window on his left.
"No," Spock replied, arms crossed over his chest. "As a matter of fact, I was just imagining you...clomping around the Letar Society's parlour in full dress regalia...blasting a trumpet." He narrowed his eyes and pressed his mouth shut, a soft laugh escaping from his throat nonetheless. "I believe such a spectacle would be worth whatever penalty 'Lurch' might see fit to levy."
"Wouldn't that be a sight?" McCoy snickered, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "But you have to bring your lute." He played with the zipper of his jacket, smiling. "Knowing your compatriots, they'd probably have us arrested for disturbing the peace, and Jim will kill us both. After he stops laughing, that is." McCoy leaned back and closed his eyes. "Good thing Jim's a dab hand at creative log-writing, or we'd be in hot water with Command and the Vulcan consulate."
Spock nodded. "Yes. As I believe you might say, 'thank heaven for small mercies.'"
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"Waterlogged"
The sudden appearance of red lights everywhere is never a good sign. And when it's combined with an ear-splitting siren and what is supposed to be a calm, reassuring voice giving instructions over an intercom, you can be pretty sure something's up. Like the end of a world as we know it.
The sudden cacophony interrupted a particularly good cup of coffee. Now, Leonard was a doctor, not a connoisseur of fine brews, but the cup he clasped in both hands as all hell broke loose filled his lungs with an aroma about as wonderful as you could wish for. So it caused him no small amount of angst when the warning sirens jerked him out of his reverie, sending the fragile china mug spiralling to the floor with a barely perceptible crash.
His hands shook as he brought them to his ears, attempting to drown out the blaring noise. What in tarnation is going on? He lifted his eyes from the table, watching crowds of Olaikins emptying out of the large bowl-shaped lobby of the Olaika Cultural Archive. Part museum, part library, the building was an impressive feat of advanced architecture that still managed to include several tasteful nods to earlier eras.
He studied the passing Olaikin more closely. Fear and confusion covered the evacuees' gray, wizened faces as they passed quickly by his table, many of them seeming to take no notice of the odd-looking stranger that had captured their interest only two minutes ago. Leonard slid out of the too-small chair and table combo that reminded him of classroom desks he'd squeezed into in medical school, wincing as the narrow space between seat and prop bar pinched his hip. He cast a final forlorn gaze at the spilled coffee before scanning the room for signs of danger. Crowds moved this way and that between exits, but they all seemed to be crossing the room without being impeded by any obstacles other than each other. The orange-clad security guard who'd stopped him on the way in shouted into a small ring on her left thumb, presumably a communication device. A woman carried a young child in each arm, towing a third who lagged behind her, looking up at the large glass pinwheel-shaped window above.
He fumbled for his comm, swearing when his hand missed his belt and hit empty air instead. Whipping it out on the second try, he switched it on. "Jim!" he shouted. "Jim, where are you? Spock. Come in. Somebody I know come in!"
"Sulu here, Doctor." The helmsman's familiar voice was a relief to hear. "I'm on echelon 5, in the botanical library. Well, uh..." he chuckled, "actually, under it. There's a small glass greenhouse area in the floor – one of the students let me in about half an hour ago." Light tapping sounds underscored his words. "There's some great stuff in here; like an emerald green flowers that's three feet-"
McCoy frowned as another Olaikin jostled past him. "Yeah, Hikaru, I'm sure it's beautiful. Listen, do you have any idea why everybody's running out of here like scared rabbits?" A man grabbed him by the arm roughly and shoved him in the direction of a smaller hallway off the lobby decorated with children's artwork. "Okay, I'm going, I'm going!" he bristled, turning back to his comm as the Olaika man released his vice grip. "Sorry. So what's going on?"
"Dunno. Maybe someone pulled the fire alarm. One of the sprinklers up here has been activated." The tapping sounds grew louder as Sulu apparently held the comm up to the glass ceiling.
"Well, whatever it is, we should probably go." McCoy pushed through a heavy door and headed down a flight of winding stairs. "Do you know where the main exit is in this building? I can't find a map or anything in this crazy place. Don't think I'd even know what one looks like."
Silence from the other end. McCoy chuckled. "Quit looking at the daisies, Lieutenant, and help a guy out." His laugh died in his throat as he stepped into an arch-high puddle. He looked up. No sprinkler heads stuck out of the ceiling above. "Hikaru, it's wet down here, too. I don't think it's the fire sprinklers." He splashed through the puddles towards a glass window and pressed his face to the pane, gaping as a large white eel swam past outside. Have mercy...if that's a lower floor... He peered down the staircase. Water climbed the steps steadily.
His comm crackled. Rattling sounds, and then a crash as glass broke. "Come...on. No!" Water rushed in the background. "The whole place's flooding fast, Doctor. Water pressure's too high, I can't get out!"
"I know." McCoy watched several aquatic pods shoot past the window, no doubt the Olaikin evacuees who had left the building a long time ago. And probably Jim and Spock, too. He kicked at the wall, pulling back just before his foot made contact. Turning, he bolted back up the staircase in the direction he'd come. "Climb as high up as you can. I'm coming for you. Where exactly are you, anyway?"
"South wing of the building. It's a little room shaped like a dome. Oof!" Thump. "I'm sitting on top of one of the sample storage shelves. Water's already about a quarter of the way up."
A very inconvenient door gave way to McCoy's fist as he sloshed through it, feeling the cold water lap at his ankles. "Good. Don't move, and stay on the comm." He switched channels. "Jim!" he barked. "Say something."
"Banana," a muffled voice replied. "I hope your aquapod has cushier seats than mine, Bones. My backside's getting nu-"
"Blast it all, I'm not in an aquapod, I'm still at the archives!" McCoy shivered as the cold temperature of the water sent chills up his spine.
"What? Bones, what are you still doing there?" Kirk's tone turned serious.
The doctor reached the next landing quickly, his breathing rapid. "Going for a little swim, that's what! Sulu got himself trapped in a tank that's rapidly filling with seawater, and if I don't get him out, we'll both drown!"
"Sulu? I haven't been able to reach everybody yet. Is he all right?" Kirk asked.
"Yes, for now," McCoy stopped in front of a second door. "I just wish somebody would tell me why this is happening. What kind of idiots would build an archive underwater?" He pushed on the exit, but this one didn't budge. He swore and tried again. And again. And again.
"Look, I don't know what they were thinking, either." Kirk sighed. "Here's what I've managed to piece together on the ride; three weeks ago, this continent experienced unprecedented seismic activity. Several buildings were damaged, including the one you're in now. They were still in the process of doing structural assessments when political pressure forced them to re-open the Archive. You know, one guy leaning on another. But nobody-"
McCoy kicked the door hard, falling backwards on his backside with a splash. "Yeah, I know, nobody thought to tell us. Great. Look, I need another way to get to echelon 5. Door's stuck. You happen to download the building schematics?"
"You mean the map?"
"Not the tourist thing. The blueprints." He stood up, shaking off excess water.
"Yeah. Okay, so you're where?"
"South stairs. Two floors below the main."
"Let me see...oh, that's good. There's an air vent for the climate control system just above your head. It's a little tight, but fairly easy to open."
McCoy looked up. A slightly rusty grate overhead was missing a screw. "I see it." Reaching up, he grabbed the bars and pulled down on them as hard as he could. He jumped up in the air and let the weight of his suspended body strain the grate until it flipped open with a loud creak, setting his feet back on the wet floor. Thank the Lord for bad maintenance, he thought. Wait a minute, that's what got us into this mess in the first place... He shook his hands in the air and rubbed them together, preparing to climb up into the vent.
As he pulled himself up and into the ductwork, the sides of the vent pressed against his body.
"It's kind of a tight squeeze, though," Kirk added.
No kidding. Leonard felt as though he was being squeezed through a sausage casing. I'm a doctor, not a bratwurst. "I'm in. Where do I go?" His head scraped the ceiling of the duct, flaking rust off and onto his scalp.
"Straight ahead about a hundred feet, then to the right thirty feet. There's another vent there that opens into the hallway on echelon four. From there, you should be able to take the stairs the rest of the way."
"Great. Talk to you when I'm out." McCoy wriggled down the duct slowly, trying not to injure himself. It didn't work; he could feel sharp bits of metal poking his skin. Gonna need a tetanus shot on top of everything else. He coughed twice. Please don't be asbestos... The awful groaning noise he kept hearing as the duct carried his weight wasn't very reassuring, either. Any moment, he expected to come crashing through the ceiling. No wonder they never fix these things. Who'd want to spend any amount of time up here?
Thankfully, when he reached the junction, there was a little more room to move. That must've been an auxiliary shaft. He crawled on his hands and knees towards the vent and released a sticky latch from the inside. The door flipped open, and he lowered his body to the ground slowly, wincing as his torn uniform caught on the scrapes he'd suffered. He looked up and down the watery hallway. Several well-lit rooms lined each side of the corridor, labelled by metal plates engraved in calligraphic script. A small bay window at one end of the hall looked out onto a coral reef garden. Several of the window panes were cracked; seawater trickled in steadily. On the opposite end, he spied the exit door and ran for it, throwing all his weight against it. The door gave way, and he barrelled down the stairs to the next echelon, stopping in an identical hallway to the one he'd just been in.
McCoy put his hands on his knees and gripped his comm tightly. "Okay, Jim, I made it. Now what? All these doors look alike."
"Seventh one on your left! And you'd better hurry. I just spoke to Sulu. He said the room was half full, and then his comm cut out."
McCoy switched channels as he hurried towards the botany library door. "Sulu. Sulu, status!" Static replied. "I can't get ahold of him either, Jim. That's not a good sign." He entered his visitor code into the door lock and it glowed bright yellow before letting him into the dark room.
He gaped as cold water rushed past his legs. McCoy struggled to stay upright. The water level inside the room was now waist-high. If it's this bad in the archive, then the greenhouse- He didn't let himself finish the grim thought. Several of the interactive computer displays were non-functional. He waded into the room, fighting against the current. As he stepped into the center of the room, carpeted floor gave way to tempered glass. "Jim. I found the greenhouse." He kicked the metal frame of the structure's roof, gasping when his foot went right through a large pane. He pulled it out, watching the water escape the room and continue to fill the glass enclosure at a faster rate. "But I don't see Sulu anywhere. I'm going in." Lowering himself down into the water, he sucked in a deep breath and dropped through the gap.
Salt stung his eyes and lips as he ducked under the water in search of the missing helmsman. He swam through the current with short, choppy strokes, fighting against the whirling current. As he did so, he dragged his hand along the edge of the wall, feeling for the shelving unit Hikaru had mentioned earlier, resisting the urge to call out his name and thus fill his lungs with water. His fingers brushed several specimens of plant life, including some kind of cactus, before resting on something cool and smooth. Pulling his body towards the shelf, he kicked until the bottom of his boot made contact, climbing upward slowly.
As he reached the top, he surfaced, letting out a gasp of stale air and dragging in what remaining fresh oxygen the room held. He floated there for a moment before the dull yellow of a command level uniform caught his eye, floating just beyond his reach. There! Sulu lay facedown in the water, his sweater barely visible in the dim light. In two seconds, he slid his left arm around the limp lieutenant's waist, using his right arm to pull them both towards the window.
He pushed Sulu through the hole first, then pulled himself up and over onto the floor of the library, dragging the man towards the open door and out into the hallway. Propping him up against the wall, he assessed his condition. Sulu's face was blue, and his chest was still. McCoy pressed two fingers to his neck, relieved when he felt a pulse. Can't lay him on the floor... He turned the lieutenant until his body was facing the wall and pressed hard on his back, trying to expel the water he'd inhaled. "Come on, Sulu. Breathe for me. Come on." He continued this for about thirty seconds, but it felt like hours. C'mon, gravity, cut me a break here...
With a loud gasp, Sulu choked up seawater, coughing and sputtering, eyes squinted shut. That's the best sound I've heard in a long time. The doctor clapped him on the back with one hand, supporting his weight with the other. "You all right, Hikaru?"
"I-I think so." Sulu smiled weakly at him. "How l-long was I under?" Another coughing fit ensued.
McCoy eyed him worriedly. "Five minutes, max. You can thank Jim I found you in time. If it weren't for his curiosity, we wouldn't even be having this conversation." McCoy reached for his comm. "Jim, I found him. Swallowed a little water, but alive. Are they still loading the aquapods?"
"Great, and no. The last one left a few minutes ago."
Of course it did. "Lovely." He turned to Sulu, his mouth drooping. "Looks like we'll have to head for the lobby. Transport won't be possible this deep underwater. Think you can make it? We might have to take the ventil-"
Sulu held up a hand. "Give me the comm." McCoy complied, handing his device over to Sulu, who nodded once at him. Reaching for his medical tricorder, he began to scan him, noting with satisfaction that his respiration was levelling out.
Sulu ignored him, turning to face the wall, one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair. "Captain, how close is the aquapod bay to our location?"
"Three levels down; it's the whole floor. You're not planning on swimming out, are you? We're talking Navy SEAL depths here."
"Relax, sir. We'll be fine. Sulu out." He switched off the comm and turned to face McCoy. "Let's go."
McCoy followed him towards the opposite end of the hallway. He pointed over his shoulder. "Stairs are that way."
Sulu looked back at him, not stopping until he stood before a set of sliding doors. "We're not taking the stairs." He flipped open a wall panel and activated the door controls. Both men peered down the empty elevator shaft as water drained into it.
McCoy shook his head. "No way. First rule of safety is never use the elevator in an emergency." He chuckled humourlessly. "Funny, I'd think you'd want to avoid confined spaces after what happened in there."
"I'm not planning to use it." Sulu's eyes flicked upwards. "Car's on an upper level. We're going down the shaft." He leaned forward. "Cable still looks solid. Sliding down it should be fairly easy."
The doctor blinked. "Sliding down? As in, down down?" Sulu nodded. "Three flights down?"
"Uh huh. Unless you want to jump, Doctor." Sulu cocked his head to one side.
Yeah, right. McCoy held both hands palms up. "No, no. Sliding's good." He crossed his arms over his chest.
"Attaboy. I'll even go first to show you it's all right. Take my arm." He leaned forward, reaching for the cable with one hand, as McCoy grabbed his opposite arm, bracing himself against the near wall. "Okay, let go!" McCoy released him, closing his eyes and listening for sounds he dreaded; a scream and the sickening crack of a broken body. Instead, silence, and then a low, slow squeak as Sulu disappeared down the slack end of the cable into the wet darkness below.
McCoy tiptoed closer to the edge of the shaft just as Sulu landed with a quiet splash. "Made it. Your turn," he called, his voice echoing off the walls.
"Coming." He shivered, straining to see the helmsman's silhouette in order to confirm that he really had made it. Water dripped onto his head from somewhere above the elevator car. "Uh, new plan; how about I take the stairs and meet you there?"
"There's no time. Stairs could be further compromised. It's now or never." Right. How about never? "Come on. I'll spot you," Sulu continued.
McCoy hesitated, trying to think of another plan. At that moment, a loud crumbling sound caused him to look over his shoulder. Chunks of drywall crashed to the ground. On second thought... Backing up against the far wall, he took a running leap into the elevator shaft, striking the touch panel as he went by. He flailed around for a few seconds before gaining a solid grip on the cable. "Ahh! Okay, I'm coming now!" He closed his eyes and loosened his grip, waiting for the pull of gravity to take him downwards.
Instead, he felt his body being pulled upward. He looked up and saw the cable rising slowly. "Sulu! It's going up!"
"Up? What did you do?"
"I don't know! Press the button!" McCoy grabbed onto the cable for dear life and held his breath as the car continued to climb.
"No good! I can't get it to reverse! You'll have to jump!"
"JUMP?! From this height? Are you kidding me?" The words were barely out of his mouth before a loud crash reverberated through the shaft. Metal fragments rained down on McCoy. "What the..." His heart stopped as an eerie snapping sound filled his ears. The elevator car shifted sideways under the weight of debris. No. Don't tell me...
"Sulu! Get out of the way! Car's falling!" McCoy let go of the cable and flew down the shaft, feeling cool air rush by him as he fell. Try as he might, he couldn't help recalling the fact that objects with a different mass were supposed to land at the same time. His body hit the water with a loud splash and bounded out of the shaft just as the elevator car slammed into the floor, splashing water everywhere. His body collided with Sulu's, sending them both to the ground in a heap. "Ooof!"
McCoy rolled over onto his side, struggling to catch his breath while Sulu remained sprawled out on his back. Pushing himself to his feet, he offered the lieutenant a hand up. "Did I hurt you?"
Sulu shook his head, smiling as he brushed off his uniform. "If I'd known we were going to be playing tackle football, I'd have worn some padding. That was a close one."
You can say that again. McCoy burst out laughing as another though hit him.
Sulu frowned. "What's so funny?"
McCoy looked over his shoulder at the elevator. "I just find it a little ironic that I travelled millions of lightyears from Earth only to nearly be hit by a car."
"Ah. I see."
Leonard stared past him to the large empty bay before them. Several docking stations lay vacant, presumably having held aquapods prior to the evacuation. Various computer stations were scattered across the room; toolkits lay open where techs had abandoned them. "So what's this surefire plan of yours, anyway? We gonna pop open the doors and find a whale to ride?" He looked back and saw nobody. "Sulu?"
He turned around. The helmsman was halfway across the bay already, striding purposefully towards a dark shadow in the opposite corner. Why can't you stay in one place for more than two seconds? Throwing up his hands, he jogged through the shallow puddles, coming to a stop just as Sulu began to pull on the corner of a large tarp.
Sulu waved. "Help me out."
McCoy obliged, yanking until the tarp gave way. They pulled it down towards the ground, revealing a small bubble-shaped craft that looked barely big enough for one man, let alone two. He frowned at Sulu. "How'd you know this was here?"
"Lucky guess." Sulu squeezed the handle of the craft, pulling the door open with a soft pop and stepping inside. "No, seriously, though. I overheard two Olaikin archivists this morning, discussing a new addition to the flight holosimulator. My guess is this baby's on loan so they can scan it and upload schematics, realistic flight data, etcetera." He slid into the driver's seat, patting the passenger side chair next to him.
McCoy ducked inside and squeezed into the surprisingly soft seat as Sulu activated the seatbelts by pressing a small button on the side of his chair. As he buckled his up, he frowned. "Uh, aren't you forgetting something?" He tapped the dome window with his finger. "Waterlock's closed."
Sulu studied the controls before him, his face relaxing. "No problem. This interface looks fairly simple. I think this might..." He tapped an icon on the touchscreen, nodding as the large bay doors whirred apart. "Integrated controls. Nice." He pressed a series of icons and the engine began to rumble. "Here we go." He stuck up one thumb as the small craft slowly rose from the ground. "Hang on, Doctor."
"I will. It's not my first shuttle ride, y'-KNOW!" McCoy lurched forward as the craft accelerated quickly, moving forward into the ocean with a rapid oscillating motion. He couldn't tell which way was up as his view switched back and forth between water and reef and water again.
"Wasn't expecting this!" Sulu shouted, working the steering controls with both hands. "Sweet!"
McCoy gripped the sides of the cockpit, bouncing up and down in his seat. His stomach flip-flopped. "W-which way is up?"
Sulu arced the craft left to avoid a tall column of orange coral. "Not important. Just keep your eyes on a fixed point, like the sensor screen." He dipped underneath a low arch, disturbing a school of silvery fish, leaving a cloud of white foam in his wake.
McCoy tried it for a few seconds, jerking his head upwards as a large black finned creature swam by them. "Do you even know where we're going?" He pressed one hand to his mouth as bile rose in his throat.
Sulu didn't answer. Instead, he hugged the edge of the reef before dropping their ship into the expanse below. Ahead, the peak of an undersea volcano vented up towards the surface.
McCoy hiccupped, feeling his stomach fall with it. "Sulu?"
Sulu reached for his comm with one hand and tossed it to McCoy. "Catch. I can't steer and call." He returned his steady gaze to the sensors.
McCoy grabbed the device and switched it on. "Jim. Come in. Where are you?" Static crackled for a few seconds. He hit the comm against the wall.
"Bones? Where are you? We're at the evacuation centre with the other Olaikin." Jim shouted to be heard over the drone of a crowd in the background. "Could always use another doctor here. They're expecting more aftershocks in the next several hours."
"Yeah, well, I'm afraid we're going to be fashionably late." As the ship flew up towards the steep peak, he squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself. "I'll let you know if my stomach survives the trip. McCoy out."
The sudden appearance of red lights everywhere is never a good sign. And when it's combined with an ear-splitting siren and what is supposed to be a calm, reassuring voice giving instructions over an intercom, you can be pretty sure something's up. Like the end of a world as we know it.
The sudden cacophony interrupted a particularly good cup of coffee. Now, Leonard was a doctor, not a connoisseur of fine brews, but the cup he clasped in both hands as all hell broke loose filled his lungs with an aroma about as wonderful as you could wish for. So it caused him no small amount of angst when the warning sirens jerked him out of his reverie, sending the fragile china mug spiralling to the floor with a barely perceptible crash.
His hands shook as he brought them to his ears, attempting to drown out the blaring noise. What in tarnation is going on? He lifted his eyes from the table, watching crowds of Olaikins emptying out of the large bowl-shaped lobby of the Olaika Cultural Archive. Part museum, part library, the building was an impressive feat of advanced architecture that still managed to include several tasteful nods to earlier eras.
He studied the passing Olaikin more closely. Fear and confusion covered the evacuees' gray, wizened faces as they passed quickly by his table, many of them seeming to take no notice of the odd-looking stranger that had captured their interest only two minutes ago. Leonard slid out of the too-small chair and table combo that reminded him of classroom desks he'd squeezed into in medical school, wincing as the narrow space between seat and prop bar pinched his hip. He cast a final forlorn gaze at the spilled coffee before scanning the room for signs of danger. Crowds moved this way and that between exits, but they all seemed to be crossing the room without being impeded by any obstacles other than each other. The orange-clad security guard who'd stopped him on the way in shouted into a small ring on her left thumb, presumably a communication device. A woman carried a young child in each arm, towing a third who lagged behind her, looking up at the large glass pinwheel-shaped window above.
He fumbled for his comm, swearing when his hand missed his belt and hit empty air instead. Whipping it out on the second try, he switched it on. "Jim!" he shouted. "Jim, where are you? Spock. Come in. Somebody I know come in!"
"Sulu here, Doctor." The helmsman's familiar voice was a relief to hear. "I'm on echelon 5, in the botanical library. Well, uh..." he chuckled, "actually, under it. There's a small glass greenhouse area in the floor – one of the students let me in about half an hour ago." Light tapping sounds underscored his words. "There's some great stuff in here; like an emerald green flowers that's three feet-"
McCoy frowned as another Olaikin jostled past him. "Yeah, Hikaru, I'm sure it's beautiful. Listen, do you have any idea why everybody's running out of here like scared rabbits?" A man grabbed him by the arm roughly and shoved him in the direction of a smaller hallway off the lobby decorated with children's artwork. "Okay, I'm going, I'm going!" he bristled, turning back to his comm as the Olaika man released his vice grip. "Sorry. So what's going on?"
"Dunno. Maybe someone pulled the fire alarm. One of the sprinklers up here has been activated." The tapping sounds grew louder as Sulu apparently held the comm up to the glass ceiling.
"Well, whatever it is, we should probably go." McCoy pushed through a heavy door and headed down a flight of winding stairs. "Do you know where the main exit is in this building? I can't find a map or anything in this crazy place. Don't think I'd even know what one looks like."
Silence from the other end. McCoy chuckled. "Quit looking at the daisies, Lieutenant, and help a guy out." His laugh died in his throat as he stepped into an arch-high puddle. He looked up. No sprinkler heads stuck out of the ceiling above. "Hikaru, it's wet down here, too. I don't think it's the fire sprinklers." He splashed through the puddles towards a glass window and pressed his face to the pane, gaping as a large white eel swam past outside. Have mercy...if that's a lower floor... He peered down the staircase. Water climbed the steps steadily.
His comm crackled. Rattling sounds, and then a crash as glass broke. "Come...on. No!" Water rushed in the background. "The whole place's flooding fast, Doctor. Water pressure's too high, I can't get out!"
"I know." McCoy watched several aquatic pods shoot past the window, no doubt the Olaikin evacuees who had left the building a long time ago. And probably Jim and Spock, too. He kicked at the wall, pulling back just before his foot made contact. Turning, he bolted back up the staircase in the direction he'd come. "Climb as high up as you can. I'm coming for you. Where exactly are you, anyway?"
"South wing of the building. It's a little room shaped like a dome. Oof!" Thump. "I'm sitting on top of one of the sample storage shelves. Water's already about a quarter of the way up."
A very inconvenient door gave way to McCoy's fist as he sloshed through it, feeling the cold water lap at his ankles. "Good. Don't move, and stay on the comm." He switched channels. "Jim!" he barked. "Say something."
"Banana," a muffled voice replied. "I hope your aquapod has cushier seats than mine, Bones. My backside's getting nu-"
"Blast it all, I'm not in an aquapod, I'm still at the archives!" McCoy shivered as the cold temperature of the water sent chills up his spine.
"What? Bones, what are you still doing there?" Kirk's tone turned serious.
The doctor reached the next landing quickly, his breathing rapid. "Going for a little swim, that's what! Sulu got himself trapped in a tank that's rapidly filling with seawater, and if I don't get him out, we'll both drown!"
"Sulu? I haven't been able to reach everybody yet. Is he all right?" Kirk asked.
"Yes, for now," McCoy stopped in front of a second door. "I just wish somebody would tell me why this is happening. What kind of idiots would build an archive underwater?" He pushed on the exit, but this one didn't budge. He swore and tried again. And again. And again.
"Look, I don't know what they were thinking, either." Kirk sighed. "Here's what I've managed to piece together on the ride; three weeks ago, this continent experienced unprecedented seismic activity. Several buildings were damaged, including the one you're in now. They were still in the process of doing structural assessments when political pressure forced them to re-open the Archive. You know, one guy leaning on another. But nobody-"
McCoy kicked the door hard, falling backwards on his backside with a splash. "Yeah, I know, nobody thought to tell us. Great. Look, I need another way to get to echelon 5. Door's stuck. You happen to download the building schematics?"
"You mean the map?"
"Not the tourist thing. The blueprints." He stood up, shaking off excess water.
"Yeah. Okay, so you're where?"
"South stairs. Two floors below the main."
"Let me see...oh, that's good. There's an air vent for the climate control system just above your head. It's a little tight, but fairly easy to open."
McCoy looked up. A slightly rusty grate overhead was missing a screw. "I see it." Reaching up, he grabbed the bars and pulled down on them as hard as he could. He jumped up in the air and let the weight of his suspended body strain the grate until it flipped open with a loud creak, setting his feet back on the wet floor. Thank the Lord for bad maintenance, he thought. Wait a minute, that's what got us into this mess in the first place... He shook his hands in the air and rubbed them together, preparing to climb up into the vent.
As he pulled himself up and into the ductwork, the sides of the vent pressed against his body.
"It's kind of a tight squeeze, though," Kirk added.
No kidding. Leonard felt as though he was being squeezed through a sausage casing. I'm a doctor, not a bratwurst. "I'm in. Where do I go?" His head scraped the ceiling of the duct, flaking rust off and onto his scalp.
"Straight ahead about a hundred feet, then to the right thirty feet. There's another vent there that opens into the hallway on echelon four. From there, you should be able to take the stairs the rest of the way."
"Great. Talk to you when I'm out." McCoy wriggled down the duct slowly, trying not to injure himself. It didn't work; he could feel sharp bits of metal poking his skin. Gonna need a tetanus shot on top of everything else. He coughed twice. Please don't be asbestos... The awful groaning noise he kept hearing as the duct carried his weight wasn't very reassuring, either. Any moment, he expected to come crashing through the ceiling. No wonder they never fix these things. Who'd want to spend any amount of time up here?
Thankfully, when he reached the junction, there was a little more room to move. That must've been an auxiliary shaft. He crawled on his hands and knees towards the vent and released a sticky latch from the inside. The door flipped open, and he lowered his body to the ground slowly, wincing as his torn uniform caught on the scrapes he'd suffered. He looked up and down the watery hallway. Several well-lit rooms lined each side of the corridor, labelled by metal plates engraved in calligraphic script. A small bay window at one end of the hall looked out onto a coral reef garden. Several of the window panes were cracked; seawater trickled in steadily. On the opposite end, he spied the exit door and ran for it, throwing all his weight against it. The door gave way, and he barrelled down the stairs to the next echelon, stopping in an identical hallway to the one he'd just been in.
McCoy put his hands on his knees and gripped his comm tightly. "Okay, Jim, I made it. Now what? All these doors look alike."
"Seventh one on your left! And you'd better hurry. I just spoke to Sulu. He said the room was half full, and then his comm cut out."
McCoy switched channels as he hurried towards the botany library door. "Sulu. Sulu, status!" Static replied. "I can't get ahold of him either, Jim. That's not a good sign." He entered his visitor code into the door lock and it glowed bright yellow before letting him into the dark room.
He gaped as cold water rushed past his legs. McCoy struggled to stay upright. The water level inside the room was now waist-high. If it's this bad in the archive, then the greenhouse- He didn't let himself finish the grim thought. Several of the interactive computer displays were non-functional. He waded into the room, fighting against the current. As he stepped into the center of the room, carpeted floor gave way to tempered glass. "Jim. I found the greenhouse." He kicked the metal frame of the structure's roof, gasping when his foot went right through a large pane. He pulled it out, watching the water escape the room and continue to fill the glass enclosure at a faster rate. "But I don't see Sulu anywhere. I'm going in." Lowering himself down into the water, he sucked in a deep breath and dropped through the gap.
Salt stung his eyes and lips as he ducked under the water in search of the missing helmsman. He swam through the current with short, choppy strokes, fighting against the whirling current. As he did so, he dragged his hand along the edge of the wall, feeling for the shelving unit Hikaru had mentioned earlier, resisting the urge to call out his name and thus fill his lungs with water. His fingers brushed several specimens of plant life, including some kind of cactus, before resting on something cool and smooth. Pulling his body towards the shelf, he kicked until the bottom of his boot made contact, climbing upward slowly.
As he reached the top, he surfaced, letting out a gasp of stale air and dragging in what remaining fresh oxygen the room held. He floated there for a moment before the dull yellow of a command level uniform caught his eye, floating just beyond his reach. There! Sulu lay facedown in the water, his sweater barely visible in the dim light. In two seconds, he slid his left arm around the limp lieutenant's waist, using his right arm to pull them both towards the window.
He pushed Sulu through the hole first, then pulled himself up and over onto the floor of the library, dragging the man towards the open door and out into the hallway. Propping him up against the wall, he assessed his condition. Sulu's face was blue, and his chest was still. McCoy pressed two fingers to his neck, relieved when he felt a pulse. Can't lay him on the floor... He turned the lieutenant until his body was facing the wall and pressed hard on his back, trying to expel the water he'd inhaled. "Come on, Sulu. Breathe for me. Come on." He continued this for about thirty seconds, but it felt like hours. C'mon, gravity, cut me a break here...
With a loud gasp, Sulu choked up seawater, coughing and sputtering, eyes squinted shut. That's the best sound I've heard in a long time. The doctor clapped him on the back with one hand, supporting his weight with the other. "You all right, Hikaru?"
"I-I think so." Sulu smiled weakly at him. "How l-long was I under?" Another coughing fit ensued.
McCoy eyed him worriedly. "Five minutes, max. You can thank Jim I found you in time. If it weren't for his curiosity, we wouldn't even be having this conversation." McCoy reached for his comm. "Jim, I found him. Swallowed a little water, but alive. Are they still loading the aquapods?"
"Great, and no. The last one left a few minutes ago."
Of course it did. "Lovely." He turned to Sulu, his mouth drooping. "Looks like we'll have to head for the lobby. Transport won't be possible this deep underwater. Think you can make it? We might have to take the ventil-"
Sulu held up a hand. "Give me the comm." McCoy complied, handing his device over to Sulu, who nodded once at him. Reaching for his medical tricorder, he began to scan him, noting with satisfaction that his respiration was levelling out.
Sulu ignored him, turning to face the wall, one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair. "Captain, how close is the aquapod bay to our location?"
"Three levels down; it's the whole floor. You're not planning on swimming out, are you? We're talking Navy SEAL depths here."
"Relax, sir. We'll be fine. Sulu out." He switched off the comm and turned to face McCoy. "Let's go."
McCoy followed him towards the opposite end of the hallway. He pointed over his shoulder. "Stairs are that way."
Sulu looked back at him, not stopping until he stood before a set of sliding doors. "We're not taking the stairs." He flipped open a wall panel and activated the door controls. Both men peered down the empty elevator shaft as water drained into it.
McCoy shook his head. "No way. First rule of safety is never use the elevator in an emergency." He chuckled humourlessly. "Funny, I'd think you'd want to avoid confined spaces after what happened in there."
"I'm not planning to use it." Sulu's eyes flicked upwards. "Car's on an upper level. We're going down the shaft." He leaned forward. "Cable still looks solid. Sliding down it should be fairly easy."
The doctor blinked. "Sliding down? As in, down down?" Sulu nodded. "Three flights down?"
"Uh huh. Unless you want to jump, Doctor." Sulu cocked his head to one side.
Yeah, right. McCoy held both hands palms up. "No, no. Sliding's good." He crossed his arms over his chest.
"Attaboy. I'll even go first to show you it's all right. Take my arm." He leaned forward, reaching for the cable with one hand, as McCoy grabbed his opposite arm, bracing himself against the near wall. "Okay, let go!" McCoy released him, closing his eyes and listening for sounds he dreaded; a scream and the sickening crack of a broken body. Instead, silence, and then a low, slow squeak as Sulu disappeared down the slack end of the cable into the wet darkness below.
McCoy tiptoed closer to the edge of the shaft just as Sulu landed with a quiet splash. "Made it. Your turn," he called, his voice echoing off the walls.
"Coming." He shivered, straining to see the helmsman's silhouette in order to confirm that he really had made it. Water dripped onto his head from somewhere above the elevator car. "Uh, new plan; how about I take the stairs and meet you there?"
"There's no time. Stairs could be further compromised. It's now or never." Right. How about never? "Come on. I'll spot you," Sulu continued.
McCoy hesitated, trying to think of another plan. At that moment, a loud crumbling sound caused him to look over his shoulder. Chunks of drywall crashed to the ground. On second thought... Backing up against the far wall, he took a running leap into the elevator shaft, striking the touch panel as he went by. He flailed around for a few seconds before gaining a solid grip on the cable. "Ahh! Okay, I'm coming now!" He closed his eyes and loosened his grip, waiting for the pull of gravity to take him downwards.
Instead, he felt his body being pulled upward. He looked up and saw the cable rising slowly. "Sulu! It's going up!"
"Up? What did you do?"
"I don't know! Press the button!" McCoy grabbed onto the cable for dear life and held his breath as the car continued to climb.
"No good! I can't get it to reverse! You'll have to jump!"
"JUMP?! From this height? Are you kidding me?" The words were barely out of his mouth before a loud crash reverberated through the shaft. Metal fragments rained down on McCoy. "What the..." His heart stopped as an eerie snapping sound filled his ears. The elevator car shifted sideways under the weight of debris. No. Don't tell me...
"Sulu! Get out of the way! Car's falling!" McCoy let go of the cable and flew down the shaft, feeling cool air rush by him as he fell. Try as he might, he couldn't help recalling the fact that objects with a different mass were supposed to land at the same time. His body hit the water with a loud splash and bounded out of the shaft just as the elevator car slammed into the floor, splashing water everywhere. His body collided with Sulu's, sending them both to the ground in a heap. "Ooof!"
McCoy rolled over onto his side, struggling to catch his breath while Sulu remained sprawled out on his back. Pushing himself to his feet, he offered the lieutenant a hand up. "Did I hurt you?"
Sulu shook his head, smiling as he brushed off his uniform. "If I'd known we were going to be playing tackle football, I'd have worn some padding. That was a close one."
You can say that again. McCoy burst out laughing as another though hit him.
Sulu frowned. "What's so funny?"
McCoy looked over his shoulder at the elevator. "I just find it a little ironic that I travelled millions of lightyears from Earth only to nearly be hit by a car."
"Ah. I see."
Leonard stared past him to the large empty bay before them. Several docking stations lay vacant, presumably having held aquapods prior to the evacuation. Various computer stations were scattered across the room; toolkits lay open where techs had abandoned them. "So what's this surefire plan of yours, anyway? We gonna pop open the doors and find a whale to ride?" He looked back and saw nobody. "Sulu?"
He turned around. The helmsman was halfway across the bay already, striding purposefully towards a dark shadow in the opposite corner. Why can't you stay in one place for more than two seconds? Throwing up his hands, he jogged through the shallow puddles, coming to a stop just as Sulu began to pull on the corner of a large tarp.
Sulu waved. "Help me out."
McCoy obliged, yanking until the tarp gave way. They pulled it down towards the ground, revealing a small bubble-shaped craft that looked barely big enough for one man, let alone two. He frowned at Sulu. "How'd you know this was here?"
"Lucky guess." Sulu squeezed the handle of the craft, pulling the door open with a soft pop and stepping inside. "No, seriously, though. I overheard two Olaikin archivists this morning, discussing a new addition to the flight holosimulator. My guess is this baby's on loan so they can scan it and upload schematics, realistic flight data, etcetera." He slid into the driver's seat, patting the passenger side chair next to him.
McCoy ducked inside and squeezed into the surprisingly soft seat as Sulu activated the seatbelts by pressing a small button on the side of his chair. As he buckled his up, he frowned. "Uh, aren't you forgetting something?" He tapped the dome window with his finger. "Waterlock's closed."
Sulu studied the controls before him, his face relaxing. "No problem. This interface looks fairly simple. I think this might..." He tapped an icon on the touchscreen, nodding as the large bay doors whirred apart. "Integrated controls. Nice." He pressed a series of icons and the engine began to rumble. "Here we go." He stuck up one thumb as the small craft slowly rose from the ground. "Hang on, Doctor."
"I will. It's not my first shuttle ride, y'-KNOW!" McCoy lurched forward as the craft accelerated quickly, moving forward into the ocean with a rapid oscillating motion. He couldn't tell which way was up as his view switched back and forth between water and reef and water again.
"Wasn't expecting this!" Sulu shouted, working the steering controls with both hands. "Sweet!"
McCoy gripped the sides of the cockpit, bouncing up and down in his seat. His stomach flip-flopped. "W-which way is up?"
Sulu arced the craft left to avoid a tall column of orange coral. "Not important. Just keep your eyes on a fixed point, like the sensor screen." He dipped underneath a low arch, disturbing a school of silvery fish, leaving a cloud of white foam in his wake.
McCoy tried it for a few seconds, jerking his head upwards as a large black finned creature swam by them. "Do you even know where we're going?" He pressed one hand to his mouth as bile rose in his throat.
Sulu didn't answer. Instead, he hugged the edge of the reef before dropping their ship into the expanse below. Ahead, the peak of an undersea volcano vented up towards the surface.
McCoy hiccupped, feeling his stomach fall with it. "Sulu?"
Sulu reached for his comm with one hand and tossed it to McCoy. "Catch. I can't steer and call." He returned his steady gaze to the sensors.
McCoy grabbed the device and switched it on. "Jim. Come in. Where are you?" Static crackled for a few seconds. He hit the comm against the wall.
"Bones? Where are you? We're at the evacuation centre with the other Olaikin." Jim shouted to be heard over the drone of a crowd in the background. "Could always use another doctor here. They're expecting more aftershocks in the next several hours."
"Yeah, well, I'm afraid we're going to be fashionably late." As the ship flew up towards the steep peak, he squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself. "I'll let you know if my stomach survives the trip. McCoy out."
Love it. McCoy is his usual country doctor but nevertheless heroic. Sulu does like his toys.
-Will
-Will
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