The Most Forgiven, chapter 7
Spock stopped before the door of the rustic home in the clearing and studied the lock. It appeared to be a typical home security system, nothing elaborate.
"Computer. Open door on the authority of Captain Spock."
Next to him, McCoy worriedly said, "Do you think it'll work?"
"I assume that Jim would have programmed emergency overrides into his lock. Ah. Just as expected."
The door slid open, and Spock stepped through to find himself in a large, informal living area. A blackened fireplace gaped against the far wall, and although it was very cold and lifeless at the moment, he could imagine how the sofa before it would beckon when the fireplace was lit. A rough plank table separated the living area from a modest kitchen, and he noted with surprise that the table still held the remnants of a meal. He could see a small office through an open door, and it also appeared to be awaiting the return of the home's occupant, with a robe thrown carelessly over the back of a chair and the computer blinking discreetly in sleep mode.
Spock turned to ascertain McCoy's opinion of Jim's home, and only then realized that McCoy had not entered with him. The doctor stood as if frozen, peering into the room from the front porch.
"Do you intend to join me?"
"I'm sorry, Spock, it's just... It's just that it seems so strange. Jim loved this place, and... and..." McCoy shook his head and stepped through the door, but instead of moving further into the room, he stopped to lift a hat from a peg by the door. "Did you see his muddy boots on the doorstep? He must have come in from the fields and left them. And over there is the holo of his son that he took everywhere next to an open book. And the dishes on the table. So many little things."
"This is not the time for sentimentality, Doctor. Assuming that Jim did not perform any chores on the morning of his death, no one has tended this ranch for two days. The animals require care."
"How can you be so cold, Spock? This is Jim's home, where he spent the last months of his life."
"In addition, Peter Kirk will be here this evening, and it would be best if he were not faced with housecleaning upon his arrival. Evidently Jim departed in a hurry on Monday. It was not like him to leave his living quarters in such an untidy state."
Spock turned to the table and picked up a plate. If Jim had not taken the time to clear his breakfast dishes, it stood to reason that there would be other tasks requiring attention around the house. Also, the bed should be remade with fresh linens. The animals must take top priority, however, so perhaps he should concentrate on the outdoor work before investigating the house. He placed the dishes in the kitchen sink and started toward the door.
"We will come back to this after we have cared for the animals."
Still turning the hat in his hands, McCoy said, "After we've cared for the animals? Do you have any idea how the hell to do that?"
"They require food and water, for a start. Please accompany me."
"Spock, dammit." McCoy closed his eyes briefly, and then placed the hat back on the peg. When he resumed speaking, there was an unsteadiness in his voice. "You've been going a mile a minute ever since you learned about Jim. Can't you slow down just for a moment? I can't keep up with you. We've just lost our best friend, and it's killing me."
"Doctor, I am not unsympathetic to your grief, but I have been 'going a mile a minute' because there is much to be done. Peter is on his way, but in the meantime someone needs to plan the memorial service. You intend to have a reception at your home afterward, but that will not simply happen by itself. In addition, someone needed to hear Jim's wishes toward the disposition of his estate, and someone needs to coordinate the loose ends that inevitably appear at a time like this. Someone must also ensure that his animals do not suffer due to neglect. Who else would see to these tasks if not us?"
"But can't you stop? Just for a moment?" McCoy picked up the old book. "These things are all we have left of Jim. I can't believe that you can be so damned efficient when we're surrounded by reminders of a full life cut short."
"They are only objects."
"But they're Jim's objects." McCoy pinned him with a glare. "I believe you're keeping yourself busy so you won't have time to think. If you rush around taking care of first one task and then another, you can pretend it doesn't hurt."
"Do you think that I am completely unmoved by Jim's death? There will be time to examine my... feelings about the matter later, but for now—"
"You can't put emotions on a schedule! You can't decide that today you'll be fine and tomorrow at 1500 hours you'll allow yourself to grieve. Hell, that's what you did with Uhura! You pushed off any acknowledgment of what you were feeling, and now it's too late. She's gone, and—"
"I am going outside. If you wish to remain here and wallow in your emotions, that is your choice. I choose to do what must be done."
He walked through the door without awaiting a response from McCoy. The doctor had been like this ever since delivering the news of Jim's death, one moment lucid and helpful, the next moment befuddled. One would think that he had never had to deal with loss before.
And why would he bring up Nyota? Her assignment to the Lexington bore no comparison to Jim's death, and Spock did not understand the reference. Granted, he and she had experienced a great deal of discord before she left, and he and Jim had exchanged cross words with each other just prior to Jim's death—
Enough.
He strode through the stable door and quickly assessed his surroundings. Five horses hung their heads over the stalls, watching him expectantly. Horses ate grass, oats, and hay, did they not? Spotting a bin, he opened it to find a large quantity of grain. Very good.
As he transferred grain from the bin to a bucket, he could not help but think of Nyota again. Where was she at the moment? She had received his message about Jim's death and left a message of her own stating that she would return to Earth as quickly as possible. The Lexington was far out in Sector Nine, however, and he did not think that she would arrive before tomorrow's memorial service. That was unfortunate, for she would be tremendously disappointed to miss it.
And... he did not wish to face it without her.
For all his words to McCoy, he did feel grief. He had never experienced this sensation before, but it seemed that a great, empty darkness loomed before him. And, oddly, he could not see beyond the darkness. He knew that life would continue as before, but the future was a void. He could envision the events of his life up to the memorial service, but after that, nothing. Blackness.
What would happen when Nyota returned? Would she shut him out as before? Despite the fact that she would be greatly affected by Jim's death, it would not change her opinion of what had happened with Valeris. He was only now beginning to understand the possible finality of her departure.
The blackness before him seemed to grow darker, if possible.
She had been so terribly displeased with him. Perhaps, though, when he explained to her that he had finally told Jim no, just as she wished...
He had told Jim no, just as she wished.
And Jim had died alone, just as he had always said he would.
Would Nyota come home, share her grief with her friends, and return to the Lexington? Ironic that she would leave Spock alone again just as Spock had done to Jim. As the humans so often said, 'What goes around, comes around.' The phrase was almost nonsensical, but there was a painful truth concealed in the words.
He moved into a stall and emptied the oats into a container on the wall. Surprisingly, the horse did not hurry to its food, instead appearing more interested in gaining attention. Spock placed the bucket on the ground and ran his hand down the massive animal's muzzle. The horse was warm, and he had not expected to feel such a contrast between the bristly hair between its eyes and the velvety skin near its nostrils. He did not resist when the horse moved closer, thrusting its head against his hand and snuffling his clothing.
"I think she likes you."
He looked up to see an attractive, dark-headed woman watching him. Suddenly self-conscious, he picked up the bucket and left the stall.
"Greetings. I am Spock."
"I know. I'm Antonia."
"Of course. I grieve with thee."
"Thanks." She looked down briefly. "I'm sorry for your loss, too. Hard to believe, isn't it?"
He considered telling her that it would be illogical to doubt the truth of Jim's death, but instead he said, "Yes. It is difficult to accept."
"Here. Let me have the bucket. Jim usually added some vitamins to the feed. He didn't like to buy the grain that had already been enriched. Maybe you can give them fresh water."
He nodded, looking back into the stall to see an unobtrusive control next to the water dispenser. "Am I to assume that you have been caring for the animals?"
"Yes. When I heard the news yesterday..." Her voice faded, and she reached up to a shelf for a bottle while she cleared her throat. "When I heard the news, I knew that no one would think of the animals right away. Unfortunately, I couldn't get into the house, but I thought that I could at least do this much. Jim was terrible about remembering to water his plants. The poor things are probably drooping."
"I was able to gain access. Perhaps we can do that next."
"Good."
He moved to the next stall, and paused to watch as she efficiently mixed the vitamins with the feed. "I regret that you had to learn of the captain's death through such impersonal channels. While he had told us a great deal about you, we did not know your last name. We could not locate you."
"That's all right. I'm sure you tried your best." She met his eyes. "You know, Jim told me all about you, too. I'm glad to finally get to meet you."
"I would have preferred that we meet under more pleasant circumstances, but I am honored to meet you as well."
She smiled sadly. "I wish that Jim could have been here for this. I think he would have enjoyed it." She carried the bucket into the next stall. "Well, let's finish up here. I'm sure that the cattle are hungry, and I need to take a look at the youngest calf."
Nodding, Spock returned his attention to replenishing the water in each stall.
...
Uhura leaned her head against the padded seat, trying not to count each minute as it slowly crept away. Spock hadn't known anything about the funeral arrangements when he left his message, so she'd just caught the fastest shuttle she could find. She knew that she'd be cutting it close, but she had paid a huge price for this seat and she hoped that maybe, just maybe, she would make it.
The attendant came by with a drink padd. "Anything for you, ma'am?"
Shaking her head, she returned to her thoughts. How was Spock doing? She'd picked up momentary flashes of sadness from him, but they were always quickly suppressed as if he wasn't allowing himself to dwell on it. While it was typical for him to push away his feelings like that, she found that it made her uneasy this time. This was the biggest blow he'd ever suffered emotionally. Something had died in him with Valeris. Would this extinguish the last spark that flickered within him?
She closed her eyes, deciding that she should try again to get some sleep. She'd been on this shuttle for over fifteen hours and before that had spent another eight on a slower ship. She was exhausted. It was just too hard to close her eyes, though. When she closed her eyes images would leap to her mind.
I have just received some unpleasant news.
Spock's words. His voice had been so bleak.
Dr. McCoy informs me that Jim was killed today, Nyota, on the maiden voyage of the Enterprise B.
It had happened so quickly. These things always happened quickly, didn't they? One minute everything is fine, and the next minute your life changes forever.
They answered a distress call and rescued a number of people from two ships that were caught in an unknown energy field. The Enterprise became trapped as well, but Captain Kirk devised a solution that freed them.
Had the captain known that he'd saved the Enterprise yet again?
At the last moment, the ship was hit with an energy bolt, destroying the area where he worked.
Had he suffered? Had he understood what was happening?
Neither Dr. McCoy nor I were there. We are still learning the details ourselves.
Suddenly she was distracted from her thoughts by a personal tri-vee across the aisle. Leaning over, she caught the man's attention and said, "Excuse me. Would you mind increasing the volume and picture on that? I'd like to watch, too."
"Of course."
He pushed a couple of buttons, and suddenly she was confronted by the smiling, dynamic image of the man she had followed for most of her adult life.
"... shown here in file footage, Captain James Kirk was well-known for his exploits as a Starfleet captain. In life his name was always tied to the mighty ship he commanded, and now it will be no different in death. We take you to Starfleet correspondent Mai Ling for a detailed account of what happened on the maiden voyage of the new Enterprise."
A gray-haired woman appeared on the screen, and Uhura covered her mouth as the reporter revealed the story one element at a time. Then, the image shifted to show a somber Admiral Howard standing behind the podium at Starfleet HQ. She recognized the setting—Dillon Hall. She'd lectured there just last year. Flanking him were Spock and Dr. McCoy, and she felt a burning in her eyes as she looked at them. Spock stood tall, his face expressionless and his hands clasped behind his back, but the doctor looked old, his posture stooped and his face ashen. This must be a replay of the press conference Spock had told her about.
The formal words didn't reveal anything new, so she focused her attention on Spock. Discreetly wiping a tear from her eye, she watched him endure the announcement, so handsome, so dignified—
The reporter's voice jolted her attention back to the news story.
"Also legendary was the loyalty Captain Kirk engendered among his senior crew, most notably his first officer of many years, Captain Spock of Vulcan. Captain Spock gave up his own command to serve with Captain Kirk..."
She watched with wide eyes as Spock stepped from their apartment building and was immediately surrounded by shouting reporters. He didn't lose his composure, but she could see that the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. He ducked his head, responding with brief, one-word answers, and moved quickly through the crowd until he was able to vanish into a waiting taxi. She frowned. How dare they! Were they hoping for a sensational, emotional reaction?
And then she saw Dr. McCoy standing in front of Starfleet Medical. His eyes watery, he talked about his friend, trying to speak coherently despite the chorus of questions. And there were Scotty, and Sulu, and Chekov, and... herself. Heavens, they'd even dredged up some footage from the time she'd accepted the Long Award for her research on subparticle communications. Spock was with her, and as she watched she saw herself grasp his elbow and laugh at a shared joke on their way out of the auditorium. She hadn't even known that the videographers caught that on film, and there it was for the entire universe to see.
The story ended with the time and date of the memorial service, tomorrow at 1500 hours. She looked down at her chronometer and calculated the time in San Francisco, and saw that she had another twelve hours to make her connections and find a way to Starfleet Headquarters. It was going to be close. Too close.
Resting her head against the back of the seat again, she willed the shuttle to go just a little bit faster.
End chapter 7
