Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. I do not even own TOS (The Original Series). However, I do own this story, and I own Ragar. He is influential, sure, but...he's mine. Thank you.
Well, this is a first. Two updates in a fairly short amount of time?? (falls over in shock) I swear, this may even become ROUTINE if I keep this up! Anyways, I do have reason for excitement. This is the FIRST time, on here, that I have ever made it to the third chapter of any story I have written (round of applause as Rhana bows). I am very pleased. However, I hope these blessings stay with us, for I have been known to dispose of stories that were actually doing fairly well before, as some of you may know. I want to cut out that bad habit. This time, I am going to FINISH this, and that will mark a new era for me, one where stories flow smoothly right up to the end because, in fact, they DO end. But, anyways…
On a lighter note, here is the THIRD chapter of Oddysey (and, yes, I do realize I spell it wrong, but you MIGHT find out later that there is a reason behind that. You just might. No spoiler warnings or anything…), and without further ado, I want you to read it. Enjoy!
Oddysey
Chapter Three
"Ragar, Ragar this is the USS Enterprise, awaiting response. Over."
Silence.
"Come in Ragar, this is the Enterprise, awaiting response. Over."
More silence.
"Come in Ragar, this is the Enterprise! Are you receiving, over??"
Again, silence. Then in a prime example of frustration, she switched from ship-to-ship to intercom.
"Communications to Captain Kirk!"
Sulu's ears perked up at the spirit in her voice. He blushed as Chekov smiled and nodded to him. He pretended he didn't notice it.
"Kirk here, what is it?"
"Unable to contact Starfleet and Admiral Ragar. There is no response."
There was a sigh at the other end. "Thank you, Lieutenant." A hesitant pause. "Kirk out."
The line disconnected. So did she. As she did so, she kneaded her forehead in exasperation and prepared to leave her post. Her shift, which proved to be a tumultuous change from what she had experienced while on surveillance, had exhausted her mentally, physically and emotionally, and she just had about enough.
She got up just to sit back down.
"Um, Uhura," Sulu said, so close that he had unknowingly pushed Uhura back into her seat. He scratched the back of his head as he looked back to Chekov, who gave him an encouraging nod. It made him only feel worse.
"What is it, helmsman?"
"I was wondering," He said, trying not to be deterred from being called 'helmsman', "If you wanted to go get a bite to eat down in the mess hall. None of us have had the chance to eat in a while, so I was wondering – "
"I would love to some other time, but right now, I am very tired, Sulu," She said, looking pitifully exhausted. She got up and headed for the door.
"How about tomorr-"
The doors swished close. Sulu looked as dejected as he knew how as he sat back at his seat, earning sympathetic looks from the entire Bridge.
"You'll get her next time, I'm sure," Said Chekov, laying in a course for the closest star system. "Women need just a little bit of persuasion."
"And how would you know so much about women?" Sulu asked, trying to remain emotionless.
Chekov smiled, humor and wisdom in his eyes. "In Moscow, we have the most beautiful women in the world."
She smiled, without really knowing why. Her hands touched, joined as she laced her fingers together, remembering when time touched them, them, oh – what a sweet word she wanted to live forever. With him. And she knew why. With him, no words were needed on her tongue, and pleasure went into the mind. With him, time was at a standstill, and forever was at her fingertips, never and always, pulsating inside her soul.
With him, everything had hope again.
It was a hope found in the most hopeless of places, feeling where feeling cannot be broached. It was water in desert, it was fire in the artic, and it was blackness in the sun.
It was finding life again.
She shook her head. Roger was no longer allowed admittance inside of her mind. Turning, she went to look upon her last patient, the only one on board who nearly died of time travel. She blushed, wondering if with his telepathic abilities he could sense her thoughts even now.
Spock.
A name. A blessing and a curse upon her heart. She reached over to touch him again, to feel the smoothness of his skin, or to feel the softness of his rich black hair, she wasn't sure which. In fact, she didn't care at all. She just wanted to feel, sensation. A whole world of sensation. Her mind became increasingly chaotic as her fingertips were a hairsbreadth away from his devilishly handsome nose. The light in her desired to be a part of the darkness in him.
She couldn't. Shedding a silent tear, she pulled away, without sensation, without feeling. Only tears were left. The tears that had bonded them twice, three times now – oh, but these tears were not of joyful bonding. These were tears that were only echoes of emotion once past. To feel, and be denied feeling… that is the worst death of them all.
"Christine."
He heard her breath catch, he saw her back turned to him, shaking with silent sobs. Her eyes were wide, and she bit her lip, awaiting him to say something, anything.
He said nothing. Merely, he put his hand upon her shoulder. But that was all it took. Her control broke, and she cried out in emotional agony, but it was wonderful. Feeling came over her again. She sobbed into his shoulder, clawing into his chest.
He merely bowed his head, waiting for her to finish her vent. After a space of several minutes, it died down to a few hyperventilated moans. Another minute, then a respite of silence.
"Why, Spock?"
"Why, what, Christine?"
"Why do you torment me like this?"
"Specify."
"Oh, you are such a computer," She said, glaring at him with eyes redder than his Vulcan sun. "Your treatment toward me. Why does it vary? And why do you say things that make absolutely no sense?"
His eyes frowned. "Specify what I said that did not make sense."
Her eyes flared. "Protesting against our natures…"
He looked away. "I was weaker then, but I am strong now."
"Weaker…"
"Leave me, Christine, or else I will have to call security."
"Christine…"
"Stop parroting me!"
He sat down on the procured sickbay bed, his head in his hands. They were shaking. Her eyebrows knit together, processing what had just transpired. Then it hit her, and a whisper of a smile traced her lips.
"You can feel," She said, conviction solidifying in her voice, her eyes shining with new tears. "You can. I always knew you could."
"Leave me," He said, his voice suddenly hoarse.
"Spock," She said, into his tipped ear. He shuddered. "No more. No more protesting against our natures." She had finally grasped the meaning.
Or so she thought.
"The Koon-ut-kalifee has passed." He stated. Her face went blank.
"The what?"
"The time is gone. It will not return. It is left forever in the past."
"In the future."
He looked at her, registering what she had said, then nodded. "In the future."
"Spock," She said, as he was about to check out of sickbay. He stopped, and his presence overwhelmed her for a second. But only a second. She regained control and straightened herself up.
"I love you," She said, using all of her strength to not hug him, to not run up to him and plant a kiss on his cheek. He turned, his expression unreadable.
"I know."
He left the room, leaving only her in it. Her knees knew what to do. They gave out, and she fell to the floor, crying out all the time in the world, until the time was gone, and only eternity remained.
...
Forgive me if I spelled koon-ut-kaifee wrong. I just spelled it like it sounds. If there is a different spelling, it would be wonderful if you could let me know what it is, thanks.
These installments are shorter than I'd like them to be. Because of this, things are getting stretched out, and nothing planned has happened yet. I apologize.
Anyways, if you could review, that would be wonderful. If you do not, I won't force you, but just keep in mind that writers here absolutely LOVE reviewers. Including me (beams). But again, I won't force you.
Thank you for reading and God bless! Hold onto your seats for the next installment of Oddysey, coming soon!
Rhana the Frog (because toads just don't stand a chance.)
