Note part one'' this is kind of short but i hope you like it...any guesses as to who you meet next?
There was a loud crack/smack sound from the front of the bar as Chekov came rushing in, his face red from exertion his eyes wide with excitement.
McCoy's eye started to twitch so quickly it was practically humming.
" I vas wisiting Mr. Kriscof vith a letter and Meister Spock vas there! I heard only a small amount of speaking before ze sound of a gun… please Sheriff you must help!"
Chekov started to babble so quickly that his Russian accent was so thick as to barely be intelligible and soon the young Russian quickly deteriorated in to babbling in his native tong. Barely 17 the boy was, in McCoy's humble opinion, entirely wasted in Enterprise as the town's post master. The kid was smarter than any four people put together and twice as cute (not that McCoy would admit anything was cute, save is daughter and he wasn't allowed to see her). But yet another orphan, Chekov had been quick to take the first job Star Trails had offered.
"Chekov, slow down son, what happened.." Pike asked pulling on his hat as he walked back to the bar. Sulu followed right on his heels, throwing down his hand in favor of carefully inspecting his pistol and holster.
" I vas deliwering message to Mester Kriscof, upon arriving I am hearing First Deputy Spock speaking, and zen…gun fire. I came to get you as quickly as I vas able…"
Pike nodded. Racism was less common in these parts but being half native like First Deputy Spock, well, that was a different story.
"Good work," Pike said clasping a quick hand to the kid's sholder. He headed towards the door and the ever darkening sky, a clear purpose in his stride. McCoy swore sharply to himself before calling out.
"Hold your horses…I'll get my kit, you're gonna need a doctor, Sheriff."
...
Spock was a master of control. Half Vulcan, half settler, Spock had spent his youth learning the ways of his father.
Logic.
Control.
Discipline.
Knowledge.
These above all other things.
Many misunderstood Spock's culture. The cool detachment of his people won them few favors and fewer friends. But Spock understood. His people had once been a violent emotional tribe whose unusual strength, speed, and sensitivity towards the minds and emotions of others had all but destroyed them. They had adopted the ways of logic and control to save what was left of their people, and Spock despite (or perhaps because) of his heritage was a true follower of the Vulcan disciplines.
It was simply fact that Spock had exemplary control. Even the town's new doctor, one Leonard McCoy, who had made his feelings towards Spock perfectly clear, would never dare to question Spock's skill, or abilities.
But none of his self-disciplines included the concept of rolling over and yielding an argument to the first illogical fool, who thought their linage superior to his.
And no amount of emotional control could entirely stop Spock from feeling the smallest pricklings of irritation that now scrapped at the back of his mind.
He wasn't irritated by the rancher's derogatory comments. No that was far too small a pebble to even cause his personal shields to ripple.
No, what irked Spock was the rancher Kriscof's illogical impulse to turn what should have been a small seizure of property into a situation that Spock had often heard referred to as 'A Mexican Stand off.' Why it should be called such a thing Spock did not know, however he now had firsthand experience in its unpleasantness. And, as if to add insult to injury, Spock was now calculating a 92.397% chance of rain within the next 30.0 minutes.
"Half-blood Damnation!" The farmer roared from within his shoddily built hut.
Other insults followed but apart from using the noise to keep aware of his opponents' position Spock ignored it. Logically, he needed a plan, but any attempt to break cover was, at this time, not a prudent idea. The rancher maybe illogical, unintelligent, and predictable to the point of absurdity, but none of that midigated the simple truth that rancher Kriscof was a most accomplished shot. Leaving cover, Spock quickly calculated, would mean a 80.17% chance of being hit.
Spock had already been grazed in the left shoulder, he admited to himself that he had infact underestimated , but the wound was not serious and blocking the pain from it was mere 'child's play'.
Over head thunder let loose an ominous roar. If this engagement was not ended quickly, then the odds of it ending without serious injury were almost none existent. And there was the small problem of the ever nearing likelihood of a flash flood.
The wind had picked up blowing sand around at a furious pace. Spock could hear the rancher's reinforcements arriving and taking up strategic positions. As Sheriff Pike might say, 'things were not looking good.'
"We got you now demon blood." Spock could hear the ranchers slowly move into flanking positions. It was rather unfortunate that Rancher Kriscof had so many likeminded friends.
Spock checked his bullets. 12 left, that meant two shots a piece. Spock was good, but no one could was so good that they could take 6 targets at once, even assuming he didn't need his extra shots.
The sound of gun fire was abrupt and unexpected. The smell was acrid in Spock's nose and the only blessing of such rain drenched air was that it kept the smoke to a more manageable level.
However the strangest thing about that gunfire was that it didn't come from the farmers. Nor was Spock the first to shoot. Ducking deeper into the cover of his old creates, Spock turned towards the shooters pistol drawn, in time to watch as Sheriff Pike and 2nd Deputy Sulu dive for the cover of an over turned abandoned wagon. It was, Spock noted somewhere in the calm back of his mind, most fortunate for he and his fellow officers that that this particular rancher was what is commonly referred to as 'a slob'.
Had he been a neat rancher, properly moving a disposing of his less then useful materials then there would have been no cover for Sock or his newly arrived aid.
Turning his attention back to the his opponents Spock briefly hesitated. When they were young, Vulcans were given the most strenuous of training avalible, to train both thier minds and thier bodies. They were taught to use each sense, each muscle to the best of their ability. In short, from the time Spock was a child he had been trained, taught and expected to achieve the greatest physical and mental potential possible.
Such training gave him the edge he needed to know what was happening, as it was happening.
The ranchers and farmers were regrouping. The Sheriff and Second Deputy's sudden attack had startled them back to their former positions. They were rethinking strategy. But even with the aid they were still out numbered two to one.
"Hurt something? You idiot HobGoblin…"
...
The thunder above gave another angry growl, and this time the flash of lighting preceeding it was so bright that for a moment the contiueily darkening sky and farm had been light up as if broad day light had streamed down upon them.
Spock gave the doctor his due. Not only had Spock, excellent hearing aside, not heard his creeping approach towards Spock's location, (obviously having arrived with the Sheriff and 2nd Deputy Sulu), but his quick, efficient work on Spock's shoulder was already making it feel better.
Spock was also strangely impressed by the man's control. From their brief encounters before Spock had assessed the new doctor and determined him to be a loud continually irritated blustery person, however despite the fact the doctor was obviously experiencing the emotion 'fear' his only outward sign was a singularly large gulp.
"Let it go Kriscof, you ain't gettin' away from this shotin' at a bunch of Law men." Pike shouted over yet another peal of thunder.
Kriscof shouted back "I ain't goin' down for this…you best come make me, Pike, you and your dog blooded crew…'
Sulu let loose a small growl in response. Pike put his arm on the youth, not entirely sure that Sulu wouldn't rise to the bait.
"So be it…" Pike raised his gun preparing to fire. Spock who was listening very intently raised his pistol and prepared to do the same.
Suddenly a defining noise could be heard, one that had nothing to do with the impending rain. It seemed to be emanating from the direction of the cliff that Kriscof's ranch butted up against.
A stranger had tumbled off the top of that cliff, and from Spock heard, he had hit every rock on the way down where fortune had it that he landed in a hay bale.
"What…was that?" Kriscof shouted from behind the sadly sagging porch wall, anger and fear colored his voice.
The stranger straightened and staggered out from behind the now completely useless hay bale, odds McCoy wouldn't have bet on, for he knew exactly what falling off a cliff did to a man.
Straw and dust sifted off much like lost snowflakes. McCoy was getting that feeling again. Crouched behind an old feeding create, he was finally starting understand what it had been like for his grandma, the batty one who had thought she could see the future.
McCoy's eye was twitching so hard now that he was begining to suspect that it would be permanently stuck that way.
It was that feeling, that feeling that gave him ulcers, that feeling he had thought he had left back east on the coasts of Georgia.
If Spock noticed the doctor's sudden change of emotions he didn't mention or show it. No, Spock's attention was focused on the stranger. A stranger who by his mere presence altered all of the previously calculated and logically considered scenarios of this situation.
Like a new unquantifiable variable, the strange was, as Sulu might have said, 'an unexpected wild card'.
AUTHER"S Whine...OK so the deal here was that i lost my rough draft...A very long rough draft that i had slaved over...
I had to rewrite this whole thing and i'm still not up to where i was...Sigh, I'm not sure i like this as much but, it turned out alright...
I admit i was so angry when i realized it was gone that i refused to look at any of this for like 2 weeks...
BUT I GOT so many nice reviews that i wanted to give anyone reading a shout out! there will be more soon maybe next week! (Here's to hoping)
ANY WHO...the next part should be longer with alittle more action...I know i'm shamelessly setting the scene- for those who haven't figured it out
yeah...you aren't getting any surprises i'm gonna use every pathetic clique to transfer the Characters without ever changing them...
this means lots of strange natives, strange bandits...wierd occurances...Nero for those wondering will also be 'A Native American.' I know, forgive me, for i am a lowly unimaginative writer...
BBBUUTTT TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK ANYWAZ!
Remember that those who review get beautiful Spock and Kirk filled dreams...