Fic: The Plebe, Chapter 20

[elliewood]

The Plebe, Chapter 20
Meanwhile, 20 Years Later...(Epilogue)
 

 

“Sulu, Rodriguez, Barrows. Front and center.”

Lieutenant Sulu’s answering “Sir!” may only have been an expression of relief at their captain’s arrival, but Kirk gave him no opportunity to continue. “Don’t ask any questions,” he panted as the junior officers fell into file at the edge of the sunlit glade. “Don't talk. Don't breathe."

Spock watched him pace the treeline, his eyes deliberately unfocused in an attempt to keep his thoughts in check. Given that the threats they had already encountered that day — a military aircraft, a pair of sword-wielding assailants, and a curiously beautiful but clearly predatory mammal — were all from Earth’s history, and therefore likely generated exclusively from the minds of the Terrans, Spock found it a commendable endeavor. Kirk echoed that thought to his crew.

“Don't think.”

It was a pity, Spock reflected, that this planet, as abundant in natural loveliness as Earth itself, was most likely going to kill them all. Jim's face as he looked down at McCoy’s motionless, bloodied corpse, then up at Spock, a mixture of misery, anger, and helpless incomprehension in his eyes…Spock gave himself a mental shake. It would not serve at this moment for him to let his own thoughts wander.

But one of them must have been unsuccessful, because an elderly man now approached them from the trees to their rear. Strange; although he was clearly humanoid in appearance, his long robe with its ornate decorations did not call to mind any Terran civilization that Spock was familiar with, and he bore no resemblance to the other, more violent manifestations the Humans had created today. Spock searched his thoughts to affirm that this being was not a creation of his own mind before alerting Kirk to his presence.

“Captain.”

The old man reached them and stopped, a kindly avuncular expression on his weathered face. Caution was obviously warranted; Spock was gratified that the captain’s initial response was one of mistrust.

“Who are you?”

“I am the caretaker of this place, Captain Kirk.”

The being had replied in perfect Federation Standard. Spock felt the fingers of his right hand twitch toward his phaser as Jim’s own suspicion visibly deepened. “You know my name?”

“But of course.” His smile was almost irritatingly benign. “We have just discovered you don't understand all this. These experiences were intended to amuse you.”

That shadow fell over Kirk’s features again, but this time the anger predominated. “Amuse? That's your word for what we've been through?”

“But none of this is permanent.” At last, something other than friendliness; the caretaker seemed genuinely perplexed at Kirk's enmity. “Here you have to only imagine your fondest wishes, either old ones you wish to relive or new ones, anything at all. Anything that pleases you can be made to happen. This entire planet was constructed for our race of people to come and play.”

It was not the word Spock would have used to describe their experiences on this planet, but he acknowledged that play was an inherently difficult concept for him to comprehend even under the best of circumstances.

Kirk seemed similarly nonplussed. “But that doesn't explain the death of my ship's surgeon.”

“Possibly because no one has died, Jim.”

They all turned to watch McCoy emerge from the trees and stroll toward them, Lieutenant Angela Martine on his arm, neither of them showing any sign of the fatal injuries they had sustained earlier that day. The doctor grinned at their open-mouthed confusion.

“We were taken below the surface for some rather remarkable repairs.” He tapped his chest with his free hand, and Spock felt Jim flinch at the reminder of the horrific wound that had been there only a short while before. “It's amazing — they've got a factory complex down there you wouldn't believe. They can build or do anything, immediately.”

That would explain the rapidity with which their thoughts were transformed into reality. Spock let his hands relax to his sides and watched Kirk, the remains of disbelief slowly draining from his face, smile with cautious relief at McCoy and Angela.

“We’re fine, Captain,” she assured him, dropping McCoy’s arm to take Lieutenant Rodriguez’ instead. She was turning her face up toward Esteban when she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye — the caretaker, folding his hands inside the sleeves of his long robe and turning away from the captain to face Spock instead, his head tilting with interest. They stared at each other for a moment, the caretaker nodding gently as his smile faded. She tried to catch Spock’s eye for an explanation of that wordless communication and received none.

The caretaker turned back to Jim and extended his hands in a gesture of sincerity. “We regret that some of you have been made…uncomfortable."

The captain didn’t appear prepared to accept the apology, although Spock knew that his diplomatic training would result in at least a perfunctory response. His communicator beeped before he could deliver that reply.

“Kirk here.”

The crew released a communal sigh of relief at Uhura’s voice. “This is the bridge, Captain. Our power systems have just come back on. Do you require assistance?”

A pause while Kirk searched the caretaker’s face. “No,” he said at last, his voice still wary, “everything is in order, Lieutenant. Stand by.”

Her affirmation was interrupted by a thoughtful lift of the caretaker’s finger. “However, if you would use the proper caution, this amusement planet of ours could be an ideal place for your people to enjoy themselves. If you wish.”

Kirk’s eyes found Spock’s over the screen of his communicator and held them until Spock gave him a slight nod. “Lieutenant, commence transporting shore leave parties. Kirk out.”

Another glance at the caretaker, another incline of the greying head. Spock straightened his uniform. “Captain, I will return to the ship and take over. With all due respect, I have already had as much shore leave as I care for.”

A tired sigh escaped Kirk as the lifted the communicator again. “No, Spock, I'll go. You…”

The reply ended abruptly as if hacked off with a hatchet. All heads turned at his sudden silence, then followed his gaze to where a tall Human in trousers and a purple dress shirt strode easily across the glade toward them.

McCoy’s eyes widened in astonishment as they took in the grey-blue eyes and loose blond hair. “Sweet Jesus,” he swore softly.

“What is it, Doctor?” Tonia Barrows curled her hand around McCoy’s left elbow and tugged lightly. “Who is he?”

He mutely shook his head, still transfixed by the young man who drew up to him and grinned in recognition, one arm extended to shake his hand.

“Dr. McCoy. It’s great to see you again.”

The hand in McCoy’s numb grasp was cool and firm, the long fingers curling easily around his to squeeze it with affection. Somehow he managed to return the handshake, his eyes on a face he hadn’t seen in, oh Lord, too long.

“And Mr. Spock. Good to see you too, sir.”

“It is likewise a pleasure.” To Angela’s surprise, Spock accepted the hand that reached for his, inclining his head politely as he did so. The newcomer answered the gesture with a genial nod of his own before releasing Spock’s hand to turn away and approach the captain, still frozen in shock, the communicator lifeless in his raised hand, his eyes huge in a face that had gone dead white.

“Jim.”

There was no answer except for a slight downward twitch of his jaw, as if the captain were trying to resurrect the words that had died in his throat. The stranger smiled, almost sadly it seemed to Angela, before reaching for the unresponsive hand and gently prying its fingers apart to dislodge the communicator.

“Please, stay. Just for a day or two.” He filled the gap left by the communicator with his own fingers and gently drew the captain’s hand toward him, enfolding it within both of his. “I have so much to tell you. So much I want to hear about from you.”

A rustle from behind the dumbstruck crew: the caretaker, his long robes brushing the forest floor, turning to move away from Kirk and out toward the open glade. Spock turned to follow, the rest of the crew leaving the pair to fall in behind at his unspoken directive and make their way across the grassy field to where the first wave of eager crewmen would shortly beam down. They hadn’t gone far before McCoy reached out to seize Spock’s arm.

“Don't you know who that is?!”

“Of course, Doctor.” The Vulcan did not break stride. “My memory is not so faulty as yours.”

McCoy ignored the jibe to focus on the coolness of the response. “Are you saying you think it’s a good idea, to leave Jim here, with…him?”

“I see no reason for concern as long as the captain exercises the appropriate amount of caution, as the caretaker has stated.”

“But…but he…” McCoy struggled for words. “All these years, Jim hasn’t mentioned anything about him, hasn’t said a word about him, or what happened. Don’t you think that’s a sign?”

“I do not believe in signs.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Spock was being deliberately obtuse. “All I’m saying is, I thought he’d forgotten all about him.”

“He did attempt to do so.”

"Well, don't you think there just might be a damn good reason for that?"

They stopped and looked back then, to where the tall stranger, his hair lifting slightly with the breeze, broke into a sudden, blinding smile. Spock nodded with what seemed to the doctor more like satisfaction than agreement.

"A reason? Yes."

“So if that’s true.” McCoy argued, his worried eyes watching Finn bring Kirk's hand to his mouth, “tell me, why now? Why would he bring him up now, after all this time?”

"Doctor, it's all right." Angela reached for his arm and pulled him around to face her. "It's time for us to leave them alone."

"Indeed." Behind them, Spock opened his communicator.

“Enterprise, Spock here. One to beam up.”

 

***FIN***

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