What to say? Well, it's been awhile. I'm sorry it's taken so long to finally update this, April Fool's notwithstanding. Long story short, I guess I've been busy. Want an example? Have you ever tried to read Nabokov? In Russian? It's harder than it sounds, believe me. Okay, that's an extreme circumstance, I really haven't done that much this semester. More importantly, I didn't have the right mind-set to sit down and finish this, although the skeleton of this chapter has been in place since January or earlier. The past couple days I've been grinding down and writing, which has been really, really fun. Oh, yes, my reader feedback response comes at the end, 'cause it's looong.
Chapter 6: Odyssey
McCoy decided to close his eyes to wait for the end. He could still hear the chattering above him, surrounding him, closing in. At least the Large Thing gave them a chance at survival, but this…
"Sorry, Spock," McCoy whispered. "We tried."
Spock didn't respond.
The sky grew ominously dark, as if ringing their final knell of doom. Another phaser blast stung McCoy on the arm, singeing his skin. McCoy started with the shock. Spock grasped his other arm solidly, trying to pull McCoy to his feet.
Suddenly, a brilliant flash of light illuminated the path, the trees, the squatting figures, in perfect clarity for a split second. And then one of the figures squealed in pain and tumbled to the ground in front of McCoy and Spock, apparently struck by the lightning.
McCoy stared, even though he couldn't see anything in the now overwhelming darkness. Spock tugged his arm more forcefully, as the other creatures chattered fretfully and jumped around in their branches.
McCoy didn't even have time to think before a deafening rumble of thunder crashed and a thick, heavy downpour of rain started, immediately drenching him.
"Run!" Spock shouted over the lingering din of the thunder and the screaming of the creatures.
McCoy didn't have to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet, trying to find purchase in the loose, quickly dampening soil, and followed Spock down the trail.
"It appears the rainstorm I noted earlier has caught up to us," Spock yelled, as McCoy fell in beside him.
"No kidding!" McCoy shouted back, already out of breath from fright. "Shouldn't we find some kind of shelter or something?"
"We have little choice at the moment, Doctor."
The path ahead of them was lit up again by another lightning strike, disturbingly close for comfort. Time seemed to slow as McCoy hung in the air, just between strides. And then darkness fell again, and a heart-stopping screech cried out behind him. They were in pursuit.
"What the hell were those, phaser monkeys?" McCoy demanded.
Spock's reply, if he gave one, was drowned in the next clash of thunder.
A memory flashed in McCoy's head: back on Earth, they always said you could tell how far away a storm was by counting the time between the lightning and the thunder. One second for every mile.
This storm was very, very close.
As McCoy ran along, he thought he felt a stiff, bony hand reaching out for him, grabbing at his heels. He looked back just as the lightning flashed again, which clearly exhibited one of the creatures racing after him on all fours, clawing at his legs. Its face was flattened, wide, grotesquely ugly, appearing even more repulsive than McCoy's first glance of them, in the trees, had been. It seemed to be grinning fiercely.
McCoy couldn't help but cry out, and was joined by the booming peal of thunder. And then the ground became too slick, and as he tried to regain his footing and run faster to escape the creature, McCoy slipped, and sprawled into Spock's back, bringing them both to the ground, face-first in the mud.
McCoy scrambled helplessly with all four limbs, managing only to slide a few inches to either side. He collapsed back into the muck.
It's over, a pathetic voice in his head murmured. Just give it up.
Spock's feet, just in front of McCoy, dug into the mud, the thick heels of his boots fighting for firm standing, making loud sucking noises as they pushed into the mud and back. One of his feet caught McCoy full in the face, and the doctor growled to himself in annoyance. My closest friend kicks me in the head right as I'm about to die. He could even do sarcasm in his mind.
The creature just behind him squeaked in terror, then suddenly broke off with a protracted gulp. McCoy chanced a look behind him, and saw nothing but black. And the lightning struck again, and he could see the Large Thing looming over him, less than a meter from his boots. The little creature, already less than half the size of McCoy, was dwarfed even more by the Large Thing, especially considering that it was now hanging limply from one of the Large Thing's pincers. McCoy looked away.
"When it rains, it pours," McCoy murmured, dripping wet.
The remaining creatures slithered off into the night at encountering both the rainstorm and the Large Thing, leaving Spock and McCoy to face both alone. To their surprise, however, the Large Thing barely paid them any mind and slowly shuffled off, its prize in hand (pincer?).
Spock and McCoy lay sprawled on the path, covered in mud, waiting with quiet anticipation. After several long, silent seconds, nothing happened. The Large Thing was gone, fresh prey in tow, and the prey's companions had apparently gone into hiding. The only thing they now had to cope with was the rain. And the mud. And the lightning, which still struck at an alarmingly frequent rate.
McCoy was content to stay where he was, facedown in the mud, for a very long time, possibly forever. Except he was wet and dirty and cold and very quickly deciding he'd much rather be in a warm, dry, clean place, preferably with cocoa.
Spock had long since stopped struggling to get to his feet, now that the danger had gone. He realized at this point, avoiding any risks of being struck by lightning was more important than moving around. He also knew the storm would shortly subside and they could continue their search for the landing coordinates. Despite these positive thoughts, however, Spock may also have been longing for warmth, cleanliness, and cocoa. Considering that the Vulcan language has no subjunctive mood, though, he probably wasn't. [A/N: Made this up; I know nothing about the Vulcan language. And neither do you, so you can't complain. If you do complain, I will laugh at you.]
The storm was moving further away, roughly in the direction Spock and McCoy were headed before. The thunder was still deafeningly loud, the lightning still too close for comfort, but Spock sat up anyway and nudged McCoy's shoulder with a boot.
McCoy looked up and nearly jumped out of his skin. For a moment, he thought the mud-drenched Vulcan could have been one of those phaser monkeys, or some other unknown terror lurking in the woods.
"It's safe to continue, I think," Spock said. He would have said it quietly, but the storm's noise forced him to shout.
McCoy nodded and went back to struggling to get up. Now that Spock was more clearheaded, he got to his feet with little difficulty. Then he helped McCoy to his feet, with great difficulty. Had they not already been soaked to the skin, bruised, covered in cuts and scrapes, and then sealed with a thick mud coating, they would have been after this latest struggle. With McCoy cursing and swearing, and Spock becoming very tempted to join him, they succeeded in standing up and continued on their (merry) way.
The storm gradually eased off as it moved away, allowing for some conversation.
"So, how'd you manage to pull that off?" McCoy asked, lightening his spirits.
"Pull what off, Doctor?" Spock asked with a sideward glance.
"Our rescue! The storm," he gestured around them, even though he doubted Spock could see it, "the Large Thing!"
"I had no part in our fortunate circumstances."
"Yeah…" McCoy trailed off. "You know, I never heard that storm until it was right on us."
Spock nodded. "I believe it is the nature of this planet's atmosphere, which alters the acoustics of such phenomena."
"Hm," McCoy replied agreeably. "Got any insight on the phaser monkeys?"
"I assume by 'phaser monkey' you mean the creatures in the trees," Spock said with a question in his tone.
McCoy rolled his eyes. "Obviously. I've already named the Large Thing, haven't I?"
Spock nodded slightly. "Apparently, these creatures are capable of emitting a low-level phase current, and projecting it by some means. Perhaps orally."
"You're telling me they can spit phaser blasts?" McCoy asked incredulously.
"It is a possibility."
"Then let's hope they don't catch up to us again."
"That is logical," Spock agreed.
They walked in silence for a few moments. The storm had passed, leaving a mist of rain and heavy fog within the tree cover. Spock and McCoy couldn't see more than a few feet in any direction. Water that had collected in the leaves slowly dripped into pools of mud.
McCoy grabbed Spock's arm. "Did you hear that?"
"That depends on what you think I heard."
McCoy held his breath for several seconds, straining to listen. "A noise, like…something out there. Following us."
A pause. "No," Spock said. "I did not."
"Oh, well…" McCoy didn't continue, because at that moment, Spock stumbled and nearly fell. McCoy caught his arm and he straightened himself. Then he immediately leaned over again.
"What's that?" McCoy asked.
Spock, in a rare (and barely perceptible, even to McCoy) display of triumph, held up a tricorder.
"A tricorder!" McCoy cried in amazement. "You mean, after all this time, we've gotten back to the beginning?"
"It appears so, Doctor. This must be one of the tricorders we were using before we were abducted. Perhaps some of our other equipment is nearbly."
They conducted as extensive a search as they could, but found nothing. Well, they came across some rocks, and moss, and sticks, and a whole lot of mud, but nothing useful. They decided the communicators must have been washed away in the downpour.
"That's just the sort of damned luck we've been having," McCoy said resignedly.
Spock lifted the tricorder closer to his face to read the display. "Apparently, we were taken entirely unaware at our abduction. The tricorder was left on."
McCoy looked concerned. "Does it still work?"
Spock had a slightly dismissive tone to his voice. "Tricorders have enough power to last weeks without recharging under normal conditions." He twisted a dial on the instrument. "This should prove fascinating. It has been recording since before our abduction."
McCoy perked up. "Really? So we can finally find out what we're up against?"
"Yes." Spock paused as he accessed the data. "Curious. The only life form other than ourselves in this vicinity was the creature you refer to as the 'Large Thing.'"
McCoy stared at Spock, or at least the silhouette he could see in the dark. "You mean that Thing tackled us all on its own without us noticing?"
"Apparently." Spock was perplexed as well.
"How did it tie your hands behind your back?"
Spock crossed his arms. "Presumably, it is more flexible than imagined."
McCoy wrinkled his nose in irritation. "Well, that seems like a bit of a gyp, doesn't it?"
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand."
McCoy threw his arms in the air. "We go running around, paranoid that a Romulan is going to leap out from behind the next tree, and all along, it's this stupid thing—what? A giant spider?"
Spock considered. "That may not be far off."
"What?" McCoy was confused at the prospect of Spock agreeing with him.
Spock lifted a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "In fact, that may be the key."
"What?"
Spock prepared to lecture. "We have been assuming that this creature is not sentient, which matches the data we have. Our computer reports, the tricorder readings, and my telepathic contact with the creature confirm that."
"Your telepathic contact?" McCoy repeated faintly.
"When the creature was attacking me, I did not sense a consciousness."
"So it's not sentient," McCoy concluded. "Okay. Tell me something I don't know."
"We have been assuming, however, that the creature is not intelligent, when in fact it is, even if that intelligence derives from instinct."
"So you're saying it attacked us because it instinctively believed we were enemies?"
"Or prey. Perhaps it believed us to be…phaser monkeys." Spock said this with such a perfectly straight tone, McCoy couldn't repress a grin.
"Well, what about the phaser monkeys? Could they have had a part in this?"
"No other part than that they are the Large Thing's traditional prey. I would venture that the net we encountered was intended for those creatures."
"And the bodies in the cave…" McCoy added with dawning realization.
"Yes."
"How 'bout that? So, now all we have to do is figure out how to return to the ship."
"Indeed." Spock walked toward a nearby bush, holding the tricorder in front of him. "According to this, these fruits appear to be edible, if you are in need of sustenance."
McCoy took the tricorder from Spock's hands. "Let me see that." He studied the readout for a moment, then shook his head. "No thanks. I don't trust anything on this godforsaken planet. If I ate those, they'd probably explode in my stomach."
Spock didn't eat any, either.
They continued walking, slowly, trying to discover the clearing to which they had beamed down.
"You know, we're going on our own little odyssey here, aren't we?" McCoy proposed.
"Odyssey?"
"Oh, don't tell me you've never heard of The Odyssey? One of the most famous works of classic Earth literature, and he's never heard of it…" McCoy, for some reason, took offense at this apparent gap in Spock's education.
"Explain the premise."
McCoy paused. "Well, I don't remember very much of it, to be honest."
"I see." Spock was skeptical.
"What? I haven't read it for ages! But you see, we were in a cave, just like Ulysses, and he had to fight off a Cyclops. In the cave."
"How did he escape?"
"I don't know—poked him in the eye or something. But that's not the point."
"What is the point?" Spock asked pointedly.
"The point is, there's a lesson to be learned here. Stay out of caves. And, we're going through hell here. He did that, too."
"As I recall, that was Hades."
McCoy scowled. "I thought you didn't know anything about this." He eyed Spock suspiciously. "Well, Hades, whatever. I think this qualifies."
After a moment, Spock asked, "Did this Ulysses travel with a companion?"
"What, you mean like a sidekick? Who's supposed to be Ulysses here?"
Spock raised his eyebrows innocently. "I am merely seeking the parallels between these two situations."
"Well, I'm sure he didn't have some know-it-all partner leading him into all sorts of danger," McCoy said grumpily.
"Yes, of course, he must have been quite capable of seeking out adversity by himself," Spock replied with an edge to his tone.
McCoy stopped short, turning to face Spock. "So, then, where the hell are we? We should've reached the beam-in point by now! You're the brains of this operation—you've done a helluva job using them! Instead, you've been dragging me halfway across the planet on some excursion—"
"I'm certain you would have gotten us rescued by now if you had been responsible for our maneuvers," Spock said in the most bitingly sarcastic tone McCoy had ever heard from him.
"I couldn't have done much worse than what you've done!"
"We might have saved time finding this area if we had compiled our knowledge early on and considered the problem logically. If we had agreed on a plan…"
"What are you saying? This is somehow my fault? You fail at your job and you blame me? Oh, and then," McCoy waved his arms expressively as he spoke, his voice ringing out in the night, bouncing off the trees, echoing throughout the entire forest. "Then you come at me with some ridiculous story about our friendship. Yeah, hell of a time to have a heart-to-heart, when we're on the run from some monster!"
Spock hesitated and inhaled slowly. "Doctor." He gently took hold of McCoy's arm.
"Don't touch me!" McCoy snarled, yanking his arm away from Spock's hand.
Spock pulled back with some distress.
"If I'm such a close friend of yours," McCoy spat, "why is it you can't even be bothered with calling my name?"
Spock's brow hardened again, but he didn't answer.
"Now just think about this: we could come out of this at each other's throats, or we could come out the best of friends. Which do you choose, Spock?" McCoy stared at him intently.
"I believe you've already made your choice, Doctor."
McCoy threw up his arms. "Dammit, Spock! I'm not going to stand around and argue all night. I've been following you around this godforsaken planet for devil knows how long, and where the hell has it gotten me? I think we should split up here. I guess it didn't work—turns out we couldn't get along and solve this together. So, I'm going to find my own way."
Spock looked at McCoy for a moment. "I have no objections," he said, barely restraining the anger in his voice.
McCoy glared back, as if preparing for another fight. "Good. Here, take this." He held out the tricorder, his only means of keeping track of his path. Spock looked down at it, but made no move to take it. Finally, McCoy withdrew it and stomped away.
Spock followed his shadow with his eyes long after McCoy had disappeared into the fog. He sighed faintly, remained standing where he was.
Several minutes later, McCoy returned, still scowling. He stopped in front of Spock, looked directly into his face. His eyes glinted in the dim moonlight.
Neither of them spoke.
At last, Spock turned and continued down the path. McCoy followed silently.
Within minutes, they reached the clearing.
Spock found a large tree with a heavy canopy shielding its trunk and root area from much of the moisture. He turned halfway toward McCoy. "We can stop here for the rest of the night." Without waiting for a reply, he found a dry patch and sat, his back against the trunk."
McCoy said nothing, but followed suit, taking a seat far enough from Spock that he did not face or touch him. McCoy drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them.
"I know why we argue," Spock said quietly.
McCoy's hackles stood on end as he tensed, preparing to defend himself, if necessary. But Spock's voice was soft, without recrimination.
"It is, in fact, quite logical," Spock continued. "Naturally, we have strong personalities that clash in ideological conflicts. However, the reasons go deeper than that. We both receive something more from our antagonistic attitudes toward each other."
McCoy was silent, but listening.
"In my case," Spock murmured, "I believe I play my part as an experiment in logical reasoning. Our arguments force me to organize my thoughts constantly and present them convincingly and logically. In short, you allow me to act more Vulcan."
McCoy turned his head slightly toward Spock, surprised.
Now that Spock had made his point, he dropped the subject. "Perhaps you should sleep while you have the opportunity. I will keep watch."
McCoy looked back at Spock, concerned. "When's the last time you slept?"
Spock didn't answer.
McCoy nodded to himself. "I thought so. Spock, I'm your doctor. I order you to get some rest. Now. Your health is just as important as mine down here."
"I do not require sleep as often as you do," Spock protested.
"Are you kidding? I've been through med school. I could go a week without sleep—if I had to—and perform surgery the whole time."
"I would prefer not to undergo your surgery in such a time," Spock commented dryly.
"Yeah, well, I'd prefer not to do it, but sometimes you can't help that sort of thing." He paused. "Go to sleep, Spock."
Spock only hesitated a few seconds before relenting. "Yes, Doctor." He actually sounded relieved, suggesting the weariness bearing down on him. Spock rested his chin on his chest and was asleep in mere moments.
McCoy listened to his relaxed, even breathing with the realization that he had never witnessed Spock sleeping before. Unconscious, yes, far too many times. But not sleeping. It was likely a very private activity, he reasoned.
"Sometimes I can't tell what's going on in that Vulcan head of yours," McCoy murmured into the darkness.
Spock did not stir.
"I realize we don't seem to get along. I don't know why, exactly, myself. I guess down here we're under a lot of stress, so it's amplified, but…" McCoy shifted uncomfortably, trying to ease the strain on his ribcage. "Oh, maybe you're right about me. But, you know, it's not that I don't like being out here, in space. I do, most of the time. This particular adventure excluded. In fact, I really am happy. It doesn't always sound that way, but it's true."
McCoy stared out into the night. Water dripped off a branch somewhere above his head, splattering in a pool at his feet. Other than this trickling, the entire forest was silent. Nothing moved. It was almost peaceful.
"Well, I know how I haven't been the most welcome companion on this mission, but I hope you won't think badly of me for it. Whatever I've said to your face, I don't know how I would've made it without you. Even though you've gotten me into as many scrapes as we've escaped." McCoy smiled to himself and looked up at the sky. "The point is, we did it together. Take that, higher intelligence."
With that statement, McCoy settled back against the trunk and relaxed.
Sometime later, McCoy couldn't tell when exactly, but the edges of the horizon had already pinkened with the coming dawn, a transporter beam took hold of them and pulled them out of the woods.
Sounds like the end, doesn't it? Well, I've got a bit left, the epilogue. Tie up a few loose ends, that sort of thing. That'll come pretty soon. Next week? Yeah, I can say that. This chapter represents the whole idea of what this story was supposed to be about, until that little digression that took, oh, three chapters to get out of my system. Hope you enjoyed, even if it wasn't overall a very humorous chapter.
Now, in some pathetic attempt to respond to my readers, I'll comment on some reviews that have filtered in during the past three years or whatever it's been. If you forgot what you said, or didn't even remember reading this story at all, much less reviewing, don't worry. I'll make my responses as obscure and incomprehensible as possible so you won't care.
Tavia: Insane? Of course I'm insane. And you don't even know me in person… [maniacal chuckles] And…Ewoks? Ewoks? Hey, I'm a Trekkie, not a Warsie.
Sarah: Starsky and Hutch…alligator…hmm. Interesting story possibilities: Spock vs. Croc! On a completely different subject…sap. Maybe you'll find this a bit more sappy, but what do I know? I just work here. And, depressed? Why, no! If anything, I am actually living a slightly less antisocial life than I have been at various points in my past. My profs like me, I'm wildly successful (at something, anyway), and I'm going to be…a monkey scientist! How could I be depressed? And sick of my readers? Never! I live for my readers! Except when I ignore them for months at a time…
SW: You "actually enjoyed reading it"? Well, I'm glad. I actually enjoyed writing it. It occurs to me that you can never really tell the tone of certain phrases in reviews. Does this mean you expected not to enjoy it, or everything else you've read has been crap? Interesting question.
Kelly: Well, when you look at it technically, Spock is not saying that they are best friends, only that…well, okay, you have me. It's just for the sake of story, I guess. They aren't best friends, true. Ah, logical debate fails me…
Trekkin17: You hope you're not disappointed in the story's resolution…well, now why'd you have to go and say something like that? The pressure you're putting me under! Now, this means there's a standard I have to live up to! [shakes head resignedly]
Blue Star Galaxy: I don't have anything particular to say, so I'll just say thanks for reading! Hope you like the rest!
Taskemus: Okay, I didn't expect this to be so long. Oh, well. Poetry? Well, I have written a bad poem or two in my time. I guess it rubs off on my prose. I'm glad you're back on ff.n!