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The Last Mission
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I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say—Horatius Bonar—(YouTube, Spotify, iTunes
What counts in life is not the mere fact that we have lived. It is what difference we have made to the lives of others that will determine the significance of the life we lead.
Captain Kirk gazed in fascination at the newly created Genesis Planet. The battle between the Reliant and the Enterprise had been fierce but at last the threat of Khan was put to rest; the doomed enemy starship was now in pieces and Khan's crew destroyed.
Kirk looked down and switched on communications. "Engine Room," he began, "Well done. Scotty."
After a moment, a tired voice replied—but it was not Scotty. "Jim… you'd better get down here." Something in his tone caused James to look at the blinking light in alarm. Then his gaze flickered over an empty chair.
"Better… Hurry…"
McCoy's transmission ended abruptly.
Kirk frowned for a moment—then stood. "Saavik, take the con," he ordered. Without further explanation he turned and strode from the bridge, leaving the rest of the crew to watch a newly birthed planet form in glorious splendour.
He raced down the hall, darting past other crewmembers without looking at them. Soon he entered Engineering. Then he saw what had made Bones' voice sound so… strange.
The flashing light over the Reactor Room; the pale faces of the surrounding crew; and Spock collapsed upon the floor.
"No!"
He dashed for the control panel, determined to save his friend; but immediately three pairs of arms grab him.
"No, sir!" comes Scotty's voice, "you'll flood the whole compartment—"
"He'll die!" Kirk said, voice calm but his eyes bulging as he fought his restrainers.
"He's already dead… Jim."
Bones' cracking voice stopped the Captain like no other could. His strength failed him and he stood numbly with his companions. He turned to look at McCoy, hoping that it was a lie, but McCoy's normally unflappable features were grim.
"He's dead," he repeated.
Kirk looked at Scotty. The officer's face shared McCoy's look.
"It's too late, Jim."
James turned to look back at the Radiation Room. As if in a dream he pushed away the officers' hands, and stepped forward. They did not stop him. They knew he was convinced.
With stunned understanding, Kirk stumbled to the door and was stopped by the transparent barrier blocking him from Spock. The Vulcan/human hybrid had changed terribly—the radiation was too much for even him. Hands blackened, face scarred with lines and scars, he looked as if he had aged several decades.
"Spock!"
Somehow Kirk's agonized cry got through the barrier, for the hybrid slowly began to stand, his legs shaking from radiation sickness. He turned and stumbled towards the door. Almost like a walking corpse.
"Th—The ship… out of danger?"
Kirk nodded, swallowing. "Yes," he replied. Unnoticed tears had formed and were even now streaming down his face.
"Don't grieve, Admiral," Spock said, a strange look upon his face. "It is logical…" He looked down, his hand seemingly caressing the substance of the Enterprise. "The needs, of the many," he continued, "outweigh…"
"The needs of a few," Kirk finished for him, his voice becoming stronger now that the full enormity of what was happening sinking into him. The tears still came down.
Spock nodded. "Or the one," he added quickly, as if speaking was too much for him. The radiation poisoning was corroding him from the inside out. He placed a gloved hand upon the glassy substance, his fingers unconsciously forming the Vulcan greeting, to support his weakening body.
Kirk's hand instinctively moved over his.
"I never took…" Spock's voice fluttered, his strength starting to fail him, "the Kobayashi Maru test—until now. What do you think of my solution?"
"Spock…"
The hybrid suddenly slid down, his legs giving out. Kirk knelt down to keep his eyes locked on him. Spock's mouth worked furiously but nothing came out. At last he managed to speak, one last time.
"I have been… and always shall be… your friend." He placed his naked hand on the glass, the Vulcan greeting formed by his fingers.
"Live long, and Prosper," the only alien aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise said in finality. His face wore a smile that was discernable even through the radiation scarring. Then he turned around, painfully, and leaned against the glass, hiding his face so Kirk did not see his death mask.
Kirk looked down at his friend's stiffening body, sadness written over his features. "No…" he whispered. He slid down. And turned away.
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"We are assembled here today, to pay our final respects to our honored dead. And yet it should be noted, in the midst of our sorrow, this death takes place in the shadow of new life, the sunrise of a new world, a world which our beloved comrade gave his own life to protect and nourish. He did not feel that sacrifice a vain or empty one—and we will not debate his profound wisdom in the midst of these proceedings."
The crew of the Enterprise stood 'round the torpedo launcher as Spock's casket, a modified photon torpedo, was lowered onto the track. The flag of the United Federation of Planets lay over it. Someone came to relieve the casket of it, in accordance of time-honored Earth naval tradition.
Kirk paused, searching for words to describe his long and complex friendship with the former Number One. Then he spoke again:
"Of my friend, I can only say this… of all the souls I have encountered, in my travels," he said, his breath starting to become short with emotion but manfully soldiered on, "his was the most—"
And here he stopped. He groped for words that did not come.
Then, his mouth barely moving, he said only one. The one most appropriate.
"Human."
Sulu took over after a moment of silence: "Honors—hup!" The crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise salute in response, those unable to attend the ceremony personally following their comrades' gestures from their quarters, from the corridors, from the bridge, from all over the starship.
Scotty began to pipe a farewell tune as Kirk nodded. The casket began to move, slowly sliding down the torpedo track down to the launcher. The familiar low hum of the motor whirred on, propelling the torpedo onward.
Then it disappeared into the tube. With a hiss, the chamber door closed over the capsule, and Spock. A torpedoman signaled to another. The other pressed a button without delay.
A hiss of compressed air, followed venting—then silence.
Outside the lonely crimson light sped on, towards Genesis.
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A/N: Farewell. "May the Lord bless you and keep you, and may the Lord cause his countenance to shine upon you. May the Lord be gracious unto you and grant you peace."
Live Long and Prosper.