Since I've been threatened with attack by…let's see…first llamas ("I shall do neither. For I have killed my llama…and my friend."), then tribbles (a whole army, no less!), and finally, Tavia ("Kirk!" I say, scoffingly.), I'd better get a move on.
I'd like to thank all my reviewers, especially the ones who really like the story. Wait a minute, that would be all of you. Which, of course, makes sense. Obviously, you'd like it. Don't worry, I haven't let my success go to my head. I'm normally like this.
There used to be something long and dull about archaeology here, but I deleted it. Because it was dull. And long.
Chapter 3: They Haven't Escaped Yet, Folks!
McCoy didn't move. Spock didn't move. The Large Thing, however, did move. Very, very slowly, but it was moving.
In more time than it takes to tell here, the Large Thing entered the cave and headed directly for the bodies in the center of the chamber. Of course, if it had taken some kind of meandering path, McCoy would have looked like he did when he got that disease that ages people really fast by the time the Thing finally got there.
As it were, McCoy (the normal, relatively young version) sat frozen in place, which he was starting to regret since he wasn't in the most comfortable position. It was the sort of position, at least, that one wouldn't normally enjoy being frozen in. His back was just slightly tensed, so he wasn't so much reclining against the wall as sitting next to it, mostly touching it…well, if you don't get the idea, suffice it to say, it wasn't especially comfortable, and it was getting less comfortable by the second.
Also, Spock inexplicably still had his hand on McCoy's shoulder. If it were the other way around, McCoy could understand. That could express you were startled, and comforting yourself that someone was next to you, and, if the Large Thing were the sort to eat people, could possibly be eaten before you and spare your life. McCoy figured these thoughts probably didn't spend much time in Spock's head. They'd get lonely with all the sterile numbers and formulae and set off for more fruitful pastures.
But, anyway, the Large Thing, which is the subject of this particular episode, was still there. And coming closer. And closer. Slightly closer. After that, an inch or two closer. When could it possibly end?!
It started to end when the Large Thing stopped. A point which was probably already established, but it has been restated for your convenience. Anyway, the Large Thing stood (or sat, or something) in front of the bodies for what may have been years, but since nothing really changed around them—darkness into daylight or that sort of thing—it was most likely much less time. A minute, perhaps.
The Large Thing was only a few meters away from McCoy and Spock, which felt like less distance because it was so Large. To McCoy, it did. To Spock, it felt like precisely 6.3 meters, which it was.
Nobody said anything. Unless the wheezing of the Large Thing could be considered speech. But then, McCoy wasn't really interested in exchanging general pleasantries because "pleasant" was not a word that came to mind with respect to this Thing. And he hadn't even really seen it yet.
McCoy would have held his breath during this little incident, but if he tried to, he'd have started losing oxygen in his brain and probably would end up swooning. Swooning would be interpreted as neither manly nor heroic. He contented himself with breathing very shallowly. Through his mouth. The horrible smell of (he now determined) decay was not in the least lessened by the improved ventilation. If anything, the arrival of the Large Thing only made it worse. Probably because the Large Thing was eating the decaying corpses. Or one of them, anyway.
Because very little was actually happening, McCoy was spending a great deal of time thinking. Some of those topics we've touched upon. His discomfort, for example. The still unexplained hand of Spock, which neglects the entire rest of Spock. Various other thoughts passed through McCoy's head, some of them perhaps an overflow from Spock's, as if these thoughts were going bar-hopping and left the first place because it was dull, and a bit square. "Now, here's a good time," they'd think, arriving at McCoy's.
Whether this specific thought actually went through McCoy's head right now we cannot be certain, but let's forget about that anyway for the sake of the plot. (Plot? you ask, bemused.)
Considering the amount of time it took to get there, the Large Thing didn't spend very long hanging around the bodies. After a minute or so snuffling around the corpses, it began to move again. It didn't seem to turn around or anything, so it could have been walking backwards. Maybe it had eyes and legs facing both directions. For the sake of his nerves, McCoy wasn't really interested in finding out exactly, scientific curiosity notwithstanding. When one is being held hostage by a Large Thing, specifically a Large Hungry Thing—much hungrier than McCoy, he decided—scientific curiosity tended to get shoved to the back burner. Er…perhaps the cooking-related analogy wasn't the best to use here.
The Large Thing, McCoy realized with some surprise, completely ignored our heroes in blue. Not that it would be more likely to notice them if they were in some other color. Well, red, maybe. It simply left, apparently carrying (in its mouth? hands?) one of the corpses with it.
Spock stood up quietly as the Large Thing reached the entrance of the cave, but not before patting McCoy's shoulder in what McCoy hoped was some kind of reassurance that he would return shortly. He certainly hoped Spock wasn't thinking of tackling the Large Thing, especially if he was also expecting McCoy's help in the matter.
McCoy strained to follow Spock's movements, but he kept to the shadows along the wall. It was probably wiser than strolling out in the middle, come to think of it.
Then McCoy could hear the rock rumbling back into place, and the very faint light slowly faded. For a panicked few seconds, McCoy worried that Spock had escaped and left him alone in the dark, unpleasant cave to rot and starve and die. Not exactly in that order. He almost started to curse Spock out, silently, of course.
"The exit is completely blocked again," Spock said quietly into his left ear. McCoy jumped.
"You're still here!" he whispered.
"Where else would I be?" Spock replied mildly.
"I don't know…I thought—well, never mind what I thought," McCoy said, still whispering.
"There is no need to whisper, Doctor," Spock said in a comparatively loud voice that made McCoy jump again.
"Don't do that!" he rasped.
"Talk?"
"No! I—"
"Did you think that I would leave you alone in here?"
"Well…" McCoy wondered sometimes if Spock was psychic. Telepathic, yes. Was that the same thing? McCoy was getting confused.
"I believe the captain would be somewhat displeased if I returned to the ship without you."
"So, why did you…?"
"Follow the creature to the passageway?" Spock finished. "I was attempting to learn something that might help us escape."
McCoy waited. "And…?"
"And?" Spock repeated.
"What did you find?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing as in, 'there's no way in hell we're getting out of here?'"
Spock considered. "I believe that is a crude, but basically accurate way of describing my findings."
"Splendid."
"In what way?"
"What?"
"Your response is indicative of a favorable reaction, however, the conclusion that we are unable to escape would not—"
"Shut up. If I'm going to die, at least don't make me listen to your ridiculous…" descriptive words failed him, "…logic."
"Logic?"
"I don't know!" McCoy cried.
Spock didn't say anything for some time. He decided it would be safer to wait before continuing the conversation, as McCoy was becoming increasingly unstable.
"So now what?" McCoy finally asked, relatively calmly.
"There is a possibility," Spock admitted.
"What kind of possibility?" McCoy asked suspiciously.
"The rock which is blocking the exit does not seem to be in place as firmly as before. It is possible that we could move it enough to escape."
McCoy thought about it. "Wait a minute. Did you say 'as before?' As in, you knew about this exit earlier?"
"Yes," Spock said, with some hesitation.
"Why the hell didn't you mention it?!" McCoy shouted.
"It was not pertinent," Spock said quietly.
"Not pertinent! The only exit in the entire cave, and he says that's not pertinent!" McCoy appealed to the roof of the cave. "I don't suppose you'd like to tell me what information you might consider pertinent."
"I was not positive this information could result in escape. I needed to consider it."
"Consider it? What's to consider? After all this time, your suggestion now is, 'let's push the rock and maybe we'll get out.'"
"I have been calculating the necessary force to move the rock," Spock said calmly.
McCoy inhaled as if preparing to shout back his response, but held it back at the last second. In a more subdued tone, he continued, "Generally, and I suppose I speak with some degree of experience here, when you come up with an idea that might help you escape from a cave—well, I guess it applies to any situation, really—you give it a go, without sitting down to analyze it first."
"I shall keep that in mind."
McCoy leaned forward, ready to stand up. "So have you finished your calculations?"
"My calculations?"
"Are we going to try it, or aren't we?"
"Yes," Spock said, and stood. He leaned down to aid McCoy.
"Ow!" McCoy protested loudly. "If you're going to help me up, at least try not to wrench my arm out of joint when you're doing it."
Spock ignored him. With a hand on McCoy's arm to guide him, Spock led him over to the far end of the chamber. He found the rock with little difficulty and released McCoy.
"So, what do I do?" McCoy asked.
"Push, Doctor." Spock found a suitable section and prepared himself.
"No kidding, Spock!" McCoy grumbled, exasperated. "Where?"
"Here." Spock guided him by touch.
"All right." McCoy got himself into position. "Ready? You wanna go on three?"
"A reasonable decision."
"Okay. One, two, three—Spock!"
Spock stopped pushing. "What?"
"You're not supposed to start until after three, you dimwitted Vulcan!"
Spock paused. "You specified 'on three.' Logic dictates that to mean—"
"Logic, my foot! Everyone knows 'on three' means you count to three and then push!" McCoy shook his head. "Logic."
"I believe you are wrong, Doctor."
"All right, then, we'll try it again. Ready?"
"Ready."
"One, two, three…" McCoy pushed, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his ribs. He couldn't ignore Spock, of course.
"Doctor?" Spock said, expending no effort whatsoever.
McCoy grunted and stopped, catching his breath. "What did you do now?"
"I assumed that you, in your natural bullheadedness, would continue to follow your method. And so, I conceded a minor point."
"Bullheadedness?" McCoy growled. "I'll show you bullheadedness!" Actually, it was an empty threat, since McCoy didn't dare go charging into open space in case that open space was suddenly punctuated by closed rock. Also, his ribs hurt.
"Perhaps we should try again," Spock replied, unfazed. "I will count to three, and then say 'push,' at which point we shall both push. Agreed?"
"Fine," McCoy said sullenly.
"One, two, three, push." They pushed. And pushed. And pushed. McCoy gritted his teeth so hard it was a wonder they didn't champ through each other so the bottom jaw was on top and vice versa. He wanted to scream at the happily active nerve endings in his torso, but refrained, if for no other reason than to show Spock he didn't always complain.
Spock was also pushing. Since his strength was naturally greater than McCoy's was in perfect health, his own contribution was considerably larger.
Not that this effort did a whit of good. The rock refused to budge. If the rock were sentient (which, for the purposes of this story, it isn't), it might have laughed at the two Starfleeters at this point, or at least snickered. Despite McCoy's imaginings to the contrary, however, it did not.
"Spock," McCoy gasped, "we're not getting anywhere."
"No," he replied and stopped.
McCoy stopped and sighed, slowly sinking to the floor in exhaustion. "Well, man makes plans, God laughs," he muttered.
Spock didn't bother to ask for clarification. "It appears that this possibility of escape will not bear fruit."
"Brilliant observation, Sherlock."
"My name is not Sherlock," Spock commented.
"Okay…Inspector Spock. Any more earth-shattering revelations?"
"Not at this time."
"Are you holding back any fascinating details I might be a bit surprised to discover later?" McCoy asked, laying the sarcasm on with a trowel.
Spock was as impervious to the sarcasm as…something that resists whatever goop McCoy was metaphorically troweling around. "No," he said simply.
"Oh. Terrific. So we're in as bad a situation as we were at the beginning!"
"Not entirely. I am not tied up in the corner," Spock replied.
"Okay, even worse!"
Spock hesitated. "Are you joking here, Doctor?"
"That's a good question."
Spock relented and slid down to the floor next to McCoy. "Apparently, we must remain here until some external force changes our present circumstances."
"Yeah." McCoy paused. "Do you think Jim's looking for us?"
"I imagine he has already given up any hopes of retrieving us and continued on his mission." Spock said this so seriously that for several seconds McCoy wholeheartedly believed him, which just goes to show how desperately in despair he was.
"He can't just leave us behind…can he?" McCoy asked hesitantly.
"I strongly doubt the captain would leave his two most senior officers—and friends—behind to die, regardless of the cost," Spock relented.
"Yeah," McCoy nodded with a reassured grin.
"However, the Enterprise will be unable to track us. We have no communicators and the rock likely blocks our life signs from being detected."
"Great. All that blasted technology and it doesn't do a damn bit of good when it counts."
"I'm sorry, Doctor."
"What? What are you apologizing for?" McCoy asked, almost annoyed.
"I have been unable to find an escape route. I also, perhaps, ruined our only opportunity, when that creature entered."
"Yeah, speaking of which," McCoy said, pointedly ignoring the apology, "what do you make of that thing?"
"Some sort of carnivorous creature, apparently. Possibly a scavenger."
"Why did it ignore us?"
Spock thought for a moment. "A possible explanation is that the creature lacks refined sensory organs to detect us in the dark. We made little or no noise and did not move. In short, it did not know we were there."
"But wouldn't it know if it had already put us in here?" McCoy insisted.
"That depends on one key point—is this creature responsible for our abduction?"
McCoy felt slow. "As opposed to what?"
"Perhaps another, unknown, entity, is responsible for capturing us, and placed us in the cave of this creature."
"Do you think that's actually possible?"
"It would seem logical to conclude that this isn't our abductor, as it apparently moves too slowly to have come upon us unaware. Regarless, I must keep it in mind while we exhaust all other possibilities."
McCoy considered. "So, you're saying that maybe Romulans, for example, captured us and left us here to be devoured by that hideous thing?"
"I did not mention Romulans," Spock said icily.
"Okay, okay, don't get testy. I'm just trying to exhaust all possibilities. Like you said," McCoy replied.
Spock faintly sighed, but didn't say anything.
"Maybe we can just wait and see if the creature—or anybody, for that matter, I won't be picky—comes along and opens up the cave."
"We have little choice in the matter."
McCoy and Spock sat in silence for some time, both enveloped in their own thoughts, much as in the previous chapter.
Finally, McCoy sighed loudly. "Well, this is remarkably dull, don't you think?"
Spock didn't answer.
Undaunted, McCoy continued. "You'd think Jim could manage to pull out all the stops for us—me, anyway—and at least try looking for us. I'll probably die of boredom before anything else. And you—" McCoy turned to face Spock, or at least his general direction. "You're something else entirely. Normally, in a life-threatening situation where two people are trapped together for an extended period of time, they can strike up an interesting conversation to while away the time. You know, discuss a little philosophy, become eternal friends so years later, over a bottle of whiskey, they can share memories of that strange little adventure. But, no, I have to get stuck with the worst conversationalist in the entire universe!"
"Doctor," Spock halted his rant with a quiet interjection, "I am not enjoying this predicament any more than you are."
McCoy paused. "Sure." Then he shrugged. "Well, who can blame you? You're content to sit here and think your way out of this box, and I just don't have the patience. So, go ahead…think."
"Thank you, Doctor."
"I'll be right here. If you need any, I don't know, input. Or anything."
"I understand," Spock said.
"Yeah." McCoy settled down for what would probably amount to a long wait.
* * *
Perhaps some of you may be interested in what could be happening on the Enterprise while our valiant heroes are trapped! in the cave. It is precisely this:
"Have you found them yet, Chekov?" Kirk asked, frustrated.
"No, sir, steel looking," Chekov said, from his hunched-over position at the science station.
"Dammit." Kirk pounded his fist on the arm of the captain's chair, hopefully not accidentally activating the ship's self-destruct feature or anything. "Keep looking," he ordered.
"Aye, Keptin," Chekov replied, and kept looking.
Suddenly, the intercom came to life. "Scott to Bridge. You called, Captain?"
Kirk stared at the comm. "What?" Realization set in. "Oh, sorry, Scotty, my mistake. Go back to work. Those warp engines still on line?"
"Aye, captain, there's no problem with them today. You've really got to stop hitting the intercom button, sir. You're disrupting my lunch." Scott keyed off.
"Lunch," Kirk said darkly. "He's worried about lunch when my best officers are down there, somewhere. Alone, or else being tortured. Possibly both." He glanced up as his other officers looked at him with slightly hurt expressions on their faces. "Oh, go back to work," he said, and resumed his anxious stalking around the bridge.
At least he was getting exercise. McCoy would be happy to hear that.
Well, still no real sappy part. It'll work its way in eventually, but our heroes have been very resistant to sap. Whenever it starts to move in that direction, they go off on a tangent and hope I forget about it. But I haven't forgotten…moohahahahaha!