Disclaimer: My brain has died. Therefor I have no interesting way to do
this. Star Trek is not mine. Why does Word think "mine" is bad grammar? So
odd.
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Reviewer Replies
Broken Infinity: Oh yeah, I did have a cliffhanger. Whoopsies, I forgot. Kill me for not updating, then. No, actually, I refuse to continue. In fact, I didn't even write this chapter. It's all a figment of your imagination. The whole STORY does not exist. Okay, I got a little carried away there. Keep reading.
PenguinQueen: This time took a while in updating too, a soggy. And LOTB... will do. Yay for excitement.
Unrealistic: Hmm... I guess you could call that a plan... Kirk does, anyway. Actually, I think Kirk was a gold-shirt ensign back in the day. But you might be right, I'm not sure. Yay! Definitely try something new!
Happi Froggi: Umm... How do I reply to ALL THAT!!!???? You too scary fuh me. But, er, thanks for reviewing.
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A/N: There is an ending in sight! I actually know where this is going! So expect just a few more chapters.
A/N2: Sorry for anyone who was waiting for this. It took a long time for me to update. My laptop battery keeps dying and my powercord is broken. -_- So I have to charge my computer up with someone else's powercord to type. But I finally managed to write a chapter. Read and review.
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*** Identity Crisis ***
Chapter Twelve - A Test
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No matter how fast the Enterprise four ran, the igloo hut seemed to never come closer. This was, of course, an illusion, but it was a very convincing and painful illusion. McCoy feared the hail would be as big as him, soon, and it was already bigger than fist size.
So, with all his red-shirt "luck", Roberts was hit again. In the face, again. But this time, it was a soon-to-be McCoy sized piece of hail, and he fell backwards, dazed.
However, there was a little bit of luck acting for Roberts, because Chekov bent down almost without stopping and grabbed the ensign. He pulled Roberts along a few steps until the ensign was back on his feet.
Maybe the igloo hut was coming a little closer... McCoy hoped so. He was nearly blinded by the smaller pieces of hail that were pelting down. These, however, could do little to no damage. They were just an annoyance.
McCoy, pondering the igloo huts and small pieces of hail, didn't see the rock that jutted up from the ice and snow. He tripped on it, landing hard. He tried to get up, knowing speed was of the essence, but a particularly large hailstone thudded into his back. This knocked the breath out of him, and he fell back to the ground.
Spock, Chekov, and Roberts were swallowed up by the hail as McCoy tried to get up.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Ten meters, nine, eight... They were almost there... almost... three, two, one....
Spock was the first to stumble into the igloo hut, and Chekov and Roberts quickly followed him. Chekov was moaning to himself about the cold and how this was the one disadvantage to being Vulcan. Roberts, with actual security guard (ha, ha) sense, was up and looking around at his surroundings. The hut was empty. There were chutes that were seemingly randomly placed along the walls, but no walrus people. And no McCoy.
"I'm going out to get him," Spock declared.
"No," Roberts argued, ignoring the fact that after about three hits to the face with large pieces of hail he was swelling up like a balloon, "It's my job to protect senior officers."
"Ensign, this is NOT the time..."
"I'm serious. And you just broke you leg, didn't you? You really shouldn't go. I--"
But Spock was ignoring him. He was already at the entrance/exit to the igloo hut. Roberts sighed and scooted after him.
"Ensign..." Spock's tone was dangerous. But they were outside now, and there was no time for talk.
"Doctor!" Spock yelled, ignoring Roberts for the mean time.
"Look for the red shirt!" Roberts said almost as loudly, trying to be heard over the noise of the gale.
Spock nodded, then suddenly he pointed. "Over there!"
A glimmer of red could be seen through the howling wind and ice and snow and general gray and white. A hailstone hit Spock in the back of the shoulder blade and he stumbled. But he only stumbled. The hail seemed to be letting up now, or it would have knocked him nearly of his feet.
And yes, there was McCoy. The red shirt was becoming easier and easier to see. Spock plowed forward, Roberts not far behind. They reached McCoy fairly easily now, and found him already sitting up.
"Doctor, are you alright?" Spock asked.
"Yeah..." McCoy said hesitantly, as though he wasn't completely sure of the answer. "When nobody noticed that I had fallen, I thought it might be best just to wait for the storm to calm down a little bit. And I guess it has."
This was true. What had been a whirlwind of gray snow and ice and hail was now almost like normal Earth hail. Almost.
Spock nodded. "Then we should get back to Mr. Chekov."
"Is he okay? Why didn't he come? Is he hurt--?"
"No," Spock answered simply. He didn't mention the fact that he had lost an argument to a red-shirt.
McCoy stood up. The storm was just about gone, almost as quickly as it had come. "Wow, in my own body I'd be sore for a week, but I'm just a kid now... Ah, this is nice," he said to no one in particular.
They started toward the igloo hut. Surprisingly, Chekov was where they had left him. No more bad luck had befallen him since the others had been out in the hail.
Sad, though, McCoy thought, That I find it strange when nothing bad happens.
"You know vhat," Chekov said, "Ve need a fire. I just vant to varm my hands ower a good fire."
"So do we all," McCoy muttered.
But Spock said, "We need to keep going. The last thing we need is to be found by the indigenous people, especially because of a... fire."
McCoy rolled his eyes. "Okay then, let's GO."
The hail had completely stopped now, and the sun was making a tentative comeback.
They started walking again, following the blue ice, and ignoring the injuries they had received from the hail. Luckily, no one had gotten hurt badly, though they probably would be sore for a week. Roberts looked like he would have a nice black eye before long.
The going seemed a lot easier now, because of the absence of the hail. And with the pale sunlight that had found its way to the ground, it was almost comfortable. Almost. It was still numbingly cold, though.
They continued following the blue ice. They had to reach that walrus- person, the one who might have let them go. The land started to dip downwards, which worried Spock even more. The land had not dipped down earlier.
And then they saw the cliff. The blue ice was traveling in a fairly straight line, all the way up to a cliff. A large, rocky/icy cliff that had NOT been there before.
"Looks like we're gonna have to climb again," McCoy said, "At least it's not a tunnel this time."
"Doctor, that cliff was not there when we first traveled along this blue ice."
"And...?"
"You do not find it odd?"
"Yeah, it's odd, but we can worry about it when we get there. We've got a while to go before we reach it."
Spock fell silent, confused by McCoy's "logic."
"Well, let's keep going," McCoy said, taking the lead. Spock, Roberts, and Chekov fell into line behind him.
They reached the cliff easily, and soon stood looking up at it from below.
"Maybe we could... go around it or something," Roberts said.
McCoy and Chekov were nodding (neither of them wanted to climb the cliff) when Spock said, "No. We must follow the blue ice. The blue ice, for whatever reason, is leading up the cliff."
"But Spock," McCoy argued, "You said it yourself that this ice isn't the same ice that we followed before. SO there's really no reason to keep following it."
"There is. This ice is leading somewhere. Whether or not it is the destination we are aiming for, it will bring us to some place. Would you rather wander around in the wilderness?"
"But we ARE wandering around in the wilderness! THIS is the wilderness!"
Chekov and Roberts backed away slowly. So this was one of those legendary arguments between Spock and McCoy. And stranger yet, they watched it played out in their bodies.
Chekov watched himself give a little sigh. "What do you propose we do, Doctor?"
"I don't know, you're in charge!" McCoy snapped.
"You seem to be questioning my decisions. I thought that maybe you had a better idea?"
It was a question and McCoy knew it. But he DIDN'T have a better idea. Worst of all, he was beginning to think that Spock was right. He sighed gustily, just to make sure Spock heard. "Okay, okay, I'll go with your 'plan.' But don't expect me to like it. I'm still missing part of my finger, you know."
Spock didn't answer, he just turned from McCoy to the cliff. It was about seventy feet tall, possible but not a welcome climb. There were a lot of handholds, so the going wouldn't be too hard. Uncomfortable at best, but not so hard that they would fail.
"Maybe ve should... tie ourselves together or somethink so ve don't fall," Chekov suggested.
"You mean so if one of us falls the rest of us fall," McCoy said.
They soon forgot about that suggestion. With nothing more to say, they began to climb. Chekov decided he liked rock-climbing, at least as a Vulcan. Spock's tall Vulcan body was well suited for climbing, despite the cold. For the other three, however, it was not as simple. McCoy's body was somewhat out of shape, which made clinging to the rock surface dangerous for Roberts. McCoy was still missing part of his finger, which meant it was harder to hold on and it hurt when he used his injured hand. And last but not least, Spock's leg was paining him. It wouldn't be completely healed for another few days, but at this point the logical thing to do would be to press forward.
So they did.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
McCoy thought he was going to die. This thought only lasted a moment, but while it did happen it was absolutely terrifying. He had come to a point where the handhold that made the most sense required the extensive use of his injured hand. So, with the Enterprise painkiller wearing off, he had had to stick his fingers in a little crack. He had almost let go, it hurt so badly. He had managed to grab a different crag of rock with his other hand, but that feeling of letting go lingered. He just hung on for a moment, aware of Spock moving tentatively upwards above him and Roberts below him. Then he started upwards again.
At least he had survived.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Surprisingly, they all survived. True, there were times when Spock or McCoy or Roberts and sometimes even Chekov thought they were going to fall. But by sheer willpower they managed to climb all the way up.
They sat, panting for breath, at the top. Chekov, not even feeling tired, had had to pull the others up to the top where he stood, grinning from ear to ear. Neither Spock nor McCoy bothered to tell him it looked funny on a Vulcan.
"My god. I didn't. Think I. Would make. It," McCoy said breathlessly to no one in particular.
"I did not think you would make it either," Spock commented, having regained his breath somewhat.
"You know, you can shut up." McCoy's breath was back.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
After just a few more minutes, they were moving again. While the cliff had been in a relatively igloo-hut-free area, they were coming up on a cluster of igloo huts. The blue ice went into one. They followed it cautiously, not seeing any walrus-aliens. This however, meant nothing, as the walrus- creatures could easily watch them without standing right in front of them and using their eyes. Being psychic had its advantages.
They made their way into the hut that the blue ice disappeared into. And lo and behold, there was the walrus-person they were looking for.
It seemed too easy. Which, in a sense was ridiculous. Plum-sized hail and sheer cliff walls were not easy.
the walrus-thing said. I see you have passed the first part of the test.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Hahahahaha! Review, and you'll find out what this all means!
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Reviewer Replies
Broken Infinity: Oh yeah, I did have a cliffhanger. Whoopsies, I forgot. Kill me for not updating, then. No, actually, I refuse to continue. In fact, I didn't even write this chapter. It's all a figment of your imagination. The whole STORY does not exist. Okay, I got a little carried away there. Keep reading.
PenguinQueen: This time took a while in updating too, a soggy. And LOTB... will do. Yay for excitement.
Unrealistic: Hmm... I guess you could call that a plan... Kirk does, anyway. Actually, I think Kirk was a gold-shirt ensign back in the day. But you might be right, I'm not sure. Yay! Definitely try something new!
Happi Froggi: Umm... How do I reply to ALL THAT!!!???? You too scary fuh me. But, er, thanks for reviewing.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
A/N: There is an ending in sight! I actually know where this is going! So expect just a few more chapters.
A/N2: Sorry for anyone who was waiting for this. It took a long time for me to update. My laptop battery keeps dying and my powercord is broken. -_- So I have to charge my computer up with someone else's powercord to type. But I finally managed to write a chapter. Read and review.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
*** Identity Crisis ***
Chapter Twelve - A Test
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
No matter how fast the Enterprise four ran, the igloo hut seemed to never come closer. This was, of course, an illusion, but it was a very convincing and painful illusion. McCoy feared the hail would be as big as him, soon, and it was already bigger than fist size.
So, with all his red-shirt "luck", Roberts was hit again. In the face, again. But this time, it was a soon-to-be McCoy sized piece of hail, and he fell backwards, dazed.
However, there was a little bit of luck acting for Roberts, because Chekov bent down almost without stopping and grabbed the ensign. He pulled Roberts along a few steps until the ensign was back on his feet.
Maybe the igloo hut was coming a little closer... McCoy hoped so. He was nearly blinded by the smaller pieces of hail that were pelting down. These, however, could do little to no damage. They were just an annoyance.
McCoy, pondering the igloo huts and small pieces of hail, didn't see the rock that jutted up from the ice and snow. He tripped on it, landing hard. He tried to get up, knowing speed was of the essence, but a particularly large hailstone thudded into his back. This knocked the breath out of him, and he fell back to the ground.
Spock, Chekov, and Roberts were swallowed up by the hail as McCoy tried to get up.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Ten meters, nine, eight... They were almost there... almost... three, two, one....
Spock was the first to stumble into the igloo hut, and Chekov and Roberts quickly followed him. Chekov was moaning to himself about the cold and how this was the one disadvantage to being Vulcan. Roberts, with actual security guard (ha, ha) sense, was up and looking around at his surroundings. The hut was empty. There were chutes that were seemingly randomly placed along the walls, but no walrus people. And no McCoy.
"I'm going out to get him," Spock declared.
"No," Roberts argued, ignoring the fact that after about three hits to the face with large pieces of hail he was swelling up like a balloon, "It's my job to protect senior officers."
"Ensign, this is NOT the time..."
"I'm serious. And you just broke you leg, didn't you? You really shouldn't go. I--"
But Spock was ignoring him. He was already at the entrance/exit to the igloo hut. Roberts sighed and scooted after him.
"Ensign..." Spock's tone was dangerous. But they were outside now, and there was no time for talk.
"Doctor!" Spock yelled, ignoring Roberts for the mean time.
"Look for the red shirt!" Roberts said almost as loudly, trying to be heard over the noise of the gale.
Spock nodded, then suddenly he pointed. "Over there!"
A glimmer of red could be seen through the howling wind and ice and snow and general gray and white. A hailstone hit Spock in the back of the shoulder blade and he stumbled. But he only stumbled. The hail seemed to be letting up now, or it would have knocked him nearly of his feet.
And yes, there was McCoy. The red shirt was becoming easier and easier to see. Spock plowed forward, Roberts not far behind. They reached McCoy fairly easily now, and found him already sitting up.
"Doctor, are you alright?" Spock asked.
"Yeah..." McCoy said hesitantly, as though he wasn't completely sure of the answer. "When nobody noticed that I had fallen, I thought it might be best just to wait for the storm to calm down a little bit. And I guess it has."
This was true. What had been a whirlwind of gray snow and ice and hail was now almost like normal Earth hail. Almost.
Spock nodded. "Then we should get back to Mr. Chekov."
"Is he okay? Why didn't he come? Is he hurt--?"
"No," Spock answered simply. He didn't mention the fact that he had lost an argument to a red-shirt.
McCoy stood up. The storm was just about gone, almost as quickly as it had come. "Wow, in my own body I'd be sore for a week, but I'm just a kid now... Ah, this is nice," he said to no one in particular.
They started toward the igloo hut. Surprisingly, Chekov was where they had left him. No more bad luck had befallen him since the others had been out in the hail.
Sad, though, McCoy thought, That I find it strange when nothing bad happens.
"You know vhat," Chekov said, "Ve need a fire. I just vant to varm my hands ower a good fire."
"So do we all," McCoy muttered.
But Spock said, "We need to keep going. The last thing we need is to be found by the indigenous people, especially because of a... fire."
McCoy rolled his eyes. "Okay then, let's GO."
The hail had completely stopped now, and the sun was making a tentative comeback.
They started walking again, following the blue ice, and ignoring the injuries they had received from the hail. Luckily, no one had gotten hurt badly, though they probably would be sore for a week. Roberts looked like he would have a nice black eye before long.
The going seemed a lot easier now, because of the absence of the hail. And with the pale sunlight that had found its way to the ground, it was almost comfortable. Almost. It was still numbingly cold, though.
They continued following the blue ice. They had to reach that walrus- person, the one who might have let them go. The land started to dip downwards, which worried Spock even more. The land had not dipped down earlier.
And then they saw the cliff. The blue ice was traveling in a fairly straight line, all the way up to a cliff. A large, rocky/icy cliff that had NOT been there before.
"Looks like we're gonna have to climb again," McCoy said, "At least it's not a tunnel this time."
"Doctor, that cliff was not there when we first traveled along this blue ice."
"And...?"
"You do not find it odd?"
"Yeah, it's odd, but we can worry about it when we get there. We've got a while to go before we reach it."
Spock fell silent, confused by McCoy's "logic."
"Well, let's keep going," McCoy said, taking the lead. Spock, Roberts, and Chekov fell into line behind him.
They reached the cliff easily, and soon stood looking up at it from below.
"Maybe we could... go around it or something," Roberts said.
McCoy and Chekov were nodding (neither of them wanted to climb the cliff) when Spock said, "No. We must follow the blue ice. The blue ice, for whatever reason, is leading up the cliff."
"But Spock," McCoy argued, "You said it yourself that this ice isn't the same ice that we followed before. SO there's really no reason to keep following it."
"There is. This ice is leading somewhere. Whether or not it is the destination we are aiming for, it will bring us to some place. Would you rather wander around in the wilderness?"
"But we ARE wandering around in the wilderness! THIS is the wilderness!"
Chekov and Roberts backed away slowly. So this was one of those legendary arguments between Spock and McCoy. And stranger yet, they watched it played out in their bodies.
Chekov watched himself give a little sigh. "What do you propose we do, Doctor?"
"I don't know, you're in charge!" McCoy snapped.
"You seem to be questioning my decisions. I thought that maybe you had a better idea?"
It was a question and McCoy knew it. But he DIDN'T have a better idea. Worst of all, he was beginning to think that Spock was right. He sighed gustily, just to make sure Spock heard. "Okay, okay, I'll go with your 'plan.' But don't expect me to like it. I'm still missing part of my finger, you know."
Spock didn't answer, he just turned from McCoy to the cliff. It was about seventy feet tall, possible but not a welcome climb. There were a lot of handholds, so the going wouldn't be too hard. Uncomfortable at best, but not so hard that they would fail.
"Maybe ve should... tie ourselves together or somethink so ve don't fall," Chekov suggested.
"You mean so if one of us falls the rest of us fall," McCoy said.
They soon forgot about that suggestion. With nothing more to say, they began to climb. Chekov decided he liked rock-climbing, at least as a Vulcan. Spock's tall Vulcan body was well suited for climbing, despite the cold. For the other three, however, it was not as simple. McCoy's body was somewhat out of shape, which made clinging to the rock surface dangerous for Roberts. McCoy was still missing part of his finger, which meant it was harder to hold on and it hurt when he used his injured hand. And last but not least, Spock's leg was paining him. It wouldn't be completely healed for another few days, but at this point the logical thing to do would be to press forward.
So they did.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
McCoy thought he was going to die. This thought only lasted a moment, but while it did happen it was absolutely terrifying. He had come to a point where the handhold that made the most sense required the extensive use of his injured hand. So, with the Enterprise painkiller wearing off, he had had to stick his fingers in a little crack. He had almost let go, it hurt so badly. He had managed to grab a different crag of rock with his other hand, but that feeling of letting go lingered. He just hung on for a moment, aware of Spock moving tentatively upwards above him and Roberts below him. Then he started upwards again.
At least he had survived.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Surprisingly, they all survived. True, there were times when Spock or McCoy or Roberts and sometimes even Chekov thought they were going to fall. But by sheer willpower they managed to climb all the way up.
They sat, panting for breath, at the top. Chekov, not even feeling tired, had had to pull the others up to the top where he stood, grinning from ear to ear. Neither Spock nor McCoy bothered to tell him it looked funny on a Vulcan.
"My god. I didn't. Think I. Would make. It," McCoy said breathlessly to no one in particular.
"I did not think you would make it either," Spock commented, having regained his breath somewhat.
"You know, you can shut up." McCoy's breath was back.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
After just a few more minutes, they were moving again. While the cliff had been in a relatively igloo-hut-free area, they were coming up on a cluster of igloo huts. The blue ice went into one. They followed it cautiously, not seeing any walrus-aliens. This however, meant nothing, as the walrus- creatures could easily watch them without standing right in front of them and using their eyes. Being psychic had its advantages.
They made their way into the hut that the blue ice disappeared into. And lo and behold, there was the walrus-person they were looking for.
It seemed too easy. Which, in a sense was ridiculous. Plum-sized hail and sheer cliff walls were not easy.
the walrus-thing said. I see you have passed the first part of the test.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Hahahahaha! Review, and you'll find out what this all means!