Epilogue
"Captain, I've got the transporter working. We can beam the doctor and Mr. Spock up on your command."
Scotty's words were the most comforting Kirk had heard in hours, after a night filled with tension. Kirk took a look around the bridge—finally, everyone was calm again.
"I'll be right down," Kirk said.
And he was. He saw no shame in running down the short corridor from the turbolift to reach the transporter room. He simply couldn't think what to say when they beamed aboard.
"Energize," he commanded Scotty as he entered.
"Aye, Captain. Can ye imagine how steamed the doctor'll be when he gets back?" Scott said brightly.
Kirk grinned. That would be the only reason not to relish this moment. Even if they hadn't encountered any major trouble, McCoy would be furious at the long wait. With a passing thought of anxiety, Kirk hoped Spock and McCoy hadn't killed each other.
The two officers took form on the platform. They were sitting; that much could be ascertained at this point. And then the transfer completed.
Kirk and Scott stared at the muddy blobs on the transporter platform.
"What the devil is that?" Scott asked.
As the transporter beam removed them from their environment, it neglected to correct their balance. While Spock and McCoy had been leaning against the tree trunk on the planet, they now had nothing to support them. They fell back and collided into each other.
McCoy groaned at the jolt. Then he looked around, somewhat bewildered.
"Bones? Spock? Is that you?" Kirk asked, peering at the two.
"Well, who the devil do you think it is?" The one on the left was McCoy. His flinty eyes turned on Kirk. "Imagine that," he continued. "He actually beams us back up to the ship. 'Why bother?' I think to ask. There were a couple times down there when we could've used a beam-up, but he chooses the time when we're not in any immediate danger."
Kirk wondered who he was talking to. He certainly wasn't addressing Spock. Kirk glanced over at Scott, who was equally confused. "You're…annoyed that we rescued you?"
McCoy said with dignity, "We were doing perfectly fine before you had to butt in."
"Well, you're welcome. You don't look perfectly fine. In fact, you look horrible. What did you do down there—wrestle a pig?"
"Yeah," McCoy said dryly, or as dryly as he could manage, "the pig won." He tried to get to his feet casually, but was having difficulty. Wincing, he continued, "We're all right. Just ran into a bit of…mud." He wrapped his arm around his ribs protectively.
Spock stood and tried to sweep clean the front of his uniform with his hands. He was still covered in soggy mud, crusted dry in some areas, and managed only to soil his hands. "We discovered, among other things, various fauna on the planet. Some of them are potentially dangerous."
"Really," Kirk said dully.
Spock reached down and gently pulled McCoy to his feet. Kirk would have expected the doctor to brush off Spock's help, but he made no acknowledgement of it, positive or negative. In fact, Kirk noticed a certain uneasiness between the two. Not quite tension, or even unfriendliness, but Kirk observed the way they neatly avoided looking directly at the other. It was strange, and he wasn't sure he should probe too deeply into their experience.
Kirk decided, instead, to lighten the tone. "You look like a couple of…pirates." Spock was wearing what appeared to be a piece of blue uniform shirt around his neck. Kirk didn't bother asking why, but noticed the lower portion of McCoy's shirt was missing. "How could you get into that much trouble in two days?"
"Two days?!" McCoy exclaimed. "You've gotta be kidding me—it felt like months!"
"So, I guess Skeptia Ture 6 isn't top on your list of vacation spots, huh, Bones?" Kirk smiled.
McCoy didn't smile back.
"What complications did you encounter in our absence?" Spock asked, stepping down from the platform.
"Well, we had a bit o' trouble with the transporter," Scott answered. "A molecule scrambler went kaput. But I got it back in order."
"We also had a bit of a run-in with some Klingons," Kirk added casually.
McCoy stared at Kirk. "You had a 'bit of a run-in' with some Klingons?" he repeated.
Kirk shrugged. "Oh, yeah. They were just passing by and, shall we say, curious about what we were doing around this planet. Obviously, we were looking for you, but they thought there was something of interest to them down there."
McCoy continued to stare at Kirk.
"I assume you successfully defused the situation," Spock said.
Now that the trouble was over, Kirk could smirk about it. "They left when they discovered what they were up against."
"So they weren't trying to capture us?" McCoy asked slowly.
Kirk snorted. "Nah. They weren't around long enough for that."
"Well, I don't understand this. A death-battle with Klingons and you act like nothing's happened." McCoy was bewildered.
"I'm sure you must have some stories to tell as well," Kirk replied.
McCoy and Spock exchanged glances.
"There is very little to tell," Spock said.
Kirk waited for further explanation, but McCoy and Spock were silent.
"Okay, then," Kirk said at last. "I guess we can just be happy it's all over with."
"Sounds good to me," McCoy replied.
Nurse Chapel entered the room, followed by two orderlies with a stretcher.
"What's this?" McCoy asked suspiciously.
Kirk raised his eyebrows. "We had no idea what condition you might be in. I called them up in case you were seriously injured."
Spock took a step toward the door, dodging the nurse. "I need to change. I will meet you shortly on the bridge, Captain."
"He needs a doctor," McCoy announced, bringing Spock to a halt.
Kirk eyed them both. "From the look of it, you both could use a doctor."
Spock turned around. "Dr. McCoy is in greater need of medical assistance than I. He has several cracked ribs, various contusions, and is moderately dehydrated."
"Don't forget the dislocated wrist," McCoy muttered. "What I could use more than anything else is a shower. Several showers."
"If I have to order you both to Sickbay, I will," Kirk warned.
Spock and McCoy hesitated. "Fine," McCoy said. He approached the door, moving gingerly.
"Do you need assistance?" Nurse Chapel asked, gesturing to the stretcher.
"I don't need to be carried to my own Sickbay," McCoy growled. He stalked out the door with dignity.
Kirk held Spock back with a hand after the others had left. "So, how did you and Bones get along?"
Spock hesitated an unusually long time before answering. "We cooperated as well as can be expected."
Kirk thought he detected a strain in Spock's voice, but decided not to press further. "Good."
"I should join the doctor in Sickbay now," Spock said and left.
Kirk shook his head to himself. They were too quiet, Spock and McCoy. Whatever they went through, it certainly must have been abnormal. He didn't know if that was good or bad, but the captain can't control everything. He'd have to trust his men.
* * *
McCoy couldn't believe how wonderful his own bed felt after the discomfort of that planet. Thankfully, the Enterprise had left orbit and he'd never have to see the place again.
His injuries were not extensive, once the proper medical treatments were available. His chest was wrapped to cushion his ribs, he was covered in bandages, and he was ordered to his quarters for a full day's rest.
Somehow, despite his extreme exhaustion, he couldn't sleep.
The door chimed. "Come in!" McCoy called.
The doors slid open, revealing Spock. He stepped forward, to a point just inside the room, hands behind his back.
McCoy looked up. "Oh. It's you." He didn't sound disappointed, exactly, nor did he sound pleasantly surprised. "I thought it would be Jim."
"I did not bring whiskey."
"What?"
"Nor is it years later."
McCoy paused. "So you did listen to my ramblings down there."
"I checked Sickbay for you earlier."
McCoy raised an eyebrow at the implied question. "They wouldn't let me stay there. Figured I'd get up and start working again when they looked away."
Spock didn't smile, not that McCoy would've expected him to.
"Have you regained your physical vigor?" Spock asked.
"You mean, do I feel better? I'd have to, after getting off that horrible planet."
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
"Doctor," Spock began, then stopped. He paused, almost as if he were debating whether to correct himself.
Before Spock could continue, McCoy held up a hand. "It's all right, Spock."
Spock took a step forward, but McCoy continued before he could speak.
"You know, Spock, when we actually talk to each other, we seem to run into problems." McCoy sat up, protectively cradling an arm over his stomach. "We…take offense a bit too easily, perhaps, when none is intended."
Spock eyed McCoy quietly. "Perhaps."
McCoy nodded. "So, how about we make a deal. No more conversations about feelings. Too damn much trouble."
Spock opened his mouth, paused, re-thought his words. Finally, he answered, "Agreed."
McCoy waved a finger at Spock. "Now, listen, none of this agreement—we should be arguing."
"On the contrary, Doctor, it is most fitting that we agree on this occasion," Spock replied with a glint in his eyes.
"That's more like it."
"Tomorrow we can begin our analysis of the tricorder readings from the planet," Spock said and stepped backward.
McCoy released an overly exaggerated sigh. "I don't want to hear anything about that planet ever again!"
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I shall meet you in Laboratory 2." Then he left.
McCoy lay back, burying his head in his pillow. He slept with upturned lips.
Author's Notes: Whew! It's finally over! I suppose it's been seven or eight months since I started writing this story. That long? Wow. I've never that kind of devotion before. But then, I had some terrific readers to fuel my literary fire. In fact, I think this may be the longest story I've ever written and finished. Sixty-ish pages. Here's to many more.
It's kind of scary, because pages of this story keep showing up all over my room, whenever I'm looking for something else. Now I can collect it all together and put it somewhere where I'll never have to look at it again.
I've been taking creative writing this semester, which means my writing has improved drastically. I don't know that it would show up here (right now, anyway) as the process has been more mental.
Oh, by the way, I am now officially a published writer. In print. Technically, a published poet. The only two good poems I've written show up in a journal called Zaum, published by Sonoma State U. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair! Oddly, I was actually more delighted by the fact that I got mail for once than for becoming somehow "important." I'd be more excited, but somehow I've rationalized my way out of being impressed with myself. Never accuse me of being satisfied with anything I do.
I learned an important lesson in writing this. Chaptered stories=lots more reviews! So, in an attempt to appear democratic, I will put up my story ideas for a vote. Which would you like me to write next? Keep in mind that I'll probably just end up writing whatever I feel like writing anyway. Don't take it too seriously. Oh, yes, and I have no claim on these ideas, so if something sparks an idea in your mind, feel free to run with it.
· Romulan torture story—involving capture, rescue, disobeying orders, and The Meaning Of Friendship
· Monkeys are loosed on the Enterprise, resulting in hijinks and hilarity
· Another random shore leave story
· McCoy's first few days on the Enterprise, wherein he first meets Kirk, Spock, etc.
In the meantime, I'll continue Versus, put up Kironide Poisoning (which I don't entirely like), and another (!) McCoy story.