Disclaimer: Don't own anything, period.
Title: Buying the Space Farm
"It's a miracle" the lieutenant in place of Ensign Chekov said.
Miracles are unreasonable, illusionary events that are believed in the event of an unexplainable mystery.
There are no such things as miracles, my mind mind involuntarily supplying. The failing warp core must have been rectified. How?
"There are no such things," I said, tapping a button to unfasten my seat belts when the comm beeped.
"Mr. Spock" the heavily accented voice of the Chief Engineer broke the silence.
"Mr. Scott."
"Sir, you better get down here, better hurry."
Nobody had ever heard Engineer Scott sound anything other than cheerful or annoyed. This was neither and it immediately 'set his alarm bells ringing' as the humans would say. If Mr. Scott sounded grave, it had to do something with the Captain as I had already come up with a possible explanation for this "miracle". I hoped it was never true.
I was wrong.
I ran, pushing aside Nyota. There would be time for apologies later. I ran faster than my average pace during regular ship duty. The Commanding Officers never ran on the decks of the ship as it would indicate potential threat or likewise occurring in the vicinity. I could not bring myself to slow myself either. The Starfleet Code did not matter to me. I had to know where the Captain was.
I came to a stop in front of Mr. Scott. I searched his face for answers, but I already knew that something was wrong, for the Engineer's face betrayed him. I could almost feel the sadness emanating from him, overwhelming my senses. He shook his head and I pushed past him to the door that led to the primary warp core. My worst fears were confirmed as I stood staring at the man lying on the feet of the door, eyes closed and panting heavily.
"Open it!" I ordered immediately, angry despite myself that the Engineer had not done so before.
"The decontamination process is not complete. You'd flood the whole compartment. The door's locked, sir."
I could feel my stomach dropping to the floor, an expression I only now understood accurately. The hard realization hit me with absoluteness. In a few moments, James T. Kirk would be dead.
My feet sank to the ground of their own accord. The red warning lights reflected off his face as he lay sweating, exhausted to his bones. Slowly, too slowly, he lifted his hand to pull the lever that would close the inner door of the chamber and start the decontamination process, dropping his hand as soon as he did. I tried to stop his hand from falling but I was deterred by the triple-reinforced glass door that stood between us. I watched as the Captain sank a little further down, heaving.
I wanted to call out to him, but I was afraid that he was already long gone to a place far out of my reach. So I could do nothing but look at him, the Captain, Jim Kirk, the man who he was destined to be friends with. It was quite startling when that thought occurred to me, and yet I knew it could never have been truer. But I could already feel it all fade away into non-existence - all the times that I could have shared with him was now nothing but a forgotten memory, a bleak future.
As I kept gazing into the face of my Captain, my friend, I noticed that his eyes were half-closed. I found myself irrationally wishing for him to open his eyes so I could get one last glimpse of his lively eyes again. Almost immediately, Jim's eyes fluttered open as if he could sense my presence and he blearily searched for something, somebody to hold on to. His eyes rested upon me and his wandering eyes ceased. He tried to speak and it seemed too difficult for him. But James Kirk was a stubborn man, as even in death, he fought for a few more minutes, to say the one question that he always asked during times of crises.
"How's our ship?"
Shock enveloped me at the defeated voice of my Captain. I could already remember vividly, the many times he had asked the same question. I could remember all the cryptic remarks I made to him, both intentionally and unintentionally. I hopelessly searched my memory for one time that I had been a good friend to him but I knew it was in vain. I had never wanted to get to know him further than I already did; he was always a constant in the future that I had envisioned. I had projected for myself many more years to serve under this man. I now have only a mere couple of minutes with him and I am certain that it is too short a time to remedy my relationship with him – more than close acquaintances but never really a friend.
As my mind wandered through unfinished thoughts, I found myself involuntarily answer his question. "Out of danger," I replied and I was surprised to hear my usually calm, steady voice wavering. Steadying myself, I continued, "You saved the crew."
I was unable to imagine the sacrifice this human had just made.
He did not reply or acknowledge my statement, but went on. "You used what he wanted against him. That's a nice move."
What was my tactical move that bought us time in comparison to his sacrifice? Insignificant, I am certain, though I doubt he would agree.
"It is what you would have done." I had to convey to him that I looked up to him for inspiration even when I was technically more qualified than him. I looked up to his vigor and passion, that is as much needed in command, as intelligence and tactics.
"And this, this is what you would've done. It was only logical."
If it was what I would have done, why did not I do it? It was definitely a logical move, I agreed, but I had been certain that the circumstances would not become as dire. I had channelled Kirk as I tried to think like him, to find the third option - another way out.
I looked into his sapphire eyes, noticing a hint of raw fear. "I'm scared, Spock" he whispered, and the words tore at my heart. I had never felt such unexplainable sadness or fear on hearing two words. It was a phrase I had never imagined coming out of his mouth of all people. But, of course, no matter how great Captain Kirk is, he is but a human.
"Help me not be. How do you choose not to feel?" he asked, his voice pleading, to know my supposed secret. The sight reminded me of the previous night when Admiral Pike had died and Jim had shown such open grief that I had never witnessed before. The thought that Jim was suffering alone now, clawed at my heart and I wanted nothing but to help him. I longed to comfort him with touch rather than words – my mother's preferred way of comforting me. I found it hard to breathe as I forgot to take in air into my lungs. My shoulders shook as I tried to rein in my emotions – I had never felt so close to breaking down. I searched for the words to phrase my answer, though I was sure it could be of no help to him anyway.
"I do not know. Right now I am failing," I answered him truthfully.
"I want you to know why I couldn't let you die, why I came back for you…"
He did not have to say, because I already knew I was listening to the last words of the one person who would have stood by me till the end.
"Because you are my friend," I said. Unbidden to me, I let loose a tear and he shook his head lightly, satisfied that I had acknowledged the truth.
I had never cried before in front of anyone. The one time that I did was when my mother died and I was in the privacy of my quarters. I couldn't help myself from shedding tears for the woman who gave birth to me, who had been there from the beginning of my life, who always supported my decisions. That I was crying in front of Jim of all people, in itself, was enough to make my grief all-consuming. It sealed the very idea that Jim was going to leave me forever and that I was never going to see his smile the first thing as I entered the Bridge during the Alpha shift or how I would never witness him and Doctor McCoy squabbling over random facts.
Jim tried to say something, but his voice failed him. He seemed aware of his failing sense of speech and tried to reach out to me, his hands resting on the glass door. I raised my trembling hands and rested them on the warm glass, shaping my fingers in the Vulcan salute. His hands slowly slid across the glass to form the salute, both of our hands mirroring each other as I looked up again at his face.
He was smiling; not his usual arrogant smirk that never failed to light up the room, but a very subdued smile hinted at his lips as they quivered to hold it in place.
He looked at me, a long look that felt like my heart was in the open for him to see. I drank the sight of his eyes, his face and features arranged in the smile. It would truly be the last time I saw him alive.
Slowly, his eyes lost the glow that was always the most unique ones in the room. His pupils dilated and his eyes focused somewhere behind my face, his hands sliding down the glass door, unable to be supported.
I wasn't aware that I sucked a breath. It was over. My Captain, my friend, the one person who I could never imagine dying, was lying dead five inches away from me, separated by a glass door. He was no more.
Why? Why was I destined to meet you? Why did I have to know you for such a short time only to lose you forever? Why did I have to lose the two people I depended on most in less than a year? Why did you die before I even got to know you?
And then, the answer came to me, as surely as the sun rises every morning.
That man was the reason why. That monster was the reason why my friend had to suffer a painful death. I will make him pay. I will show him what a Vulcan is capable of. I will break his bones. I will kill him. "Khaaaaan!"
A/N: Leave me reviews if you enjoyed it or if you want another chapter or something. I might be able to publish one more if I have the time. See y'all soon!
