Future Imperfect (K/S) Pt 1 of 13

[gilda_elise]

Title: Future Imperfect
Fandom: Star Trek (TOS)
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Summary: In the ruins of one world, two men of different planets meet. One looks to the future, one to the past. But as their lives intertwine, they find that their happiness is dependent on the past one seeks and the future the other fights for.
Notes: Originally published by Kathy Resch as a stand-alone novel, July 2010. Artwork by Lorraine Brevig and Virginia Sky.

Many thanks to artconserv and cluesby4 for allowing me to post their beautiful artwork here.






Chapter 1


He could see her out of the corner of his eye, watching him with an expression both anxious and eager. He had not heard her enter, but his house was her house and there was no need for formality. In truth, he knew why she was here. She did not wish him to visit her planet; yet she could not hide her need to know what was transpiring there.

Spock finished logging in his flight pattern before switching off the machine and turning toward the woman who hovered near his door. "Is there something you wish, Mother?"

A grimace slipped passed her controls but she seemed to have her emotions mastered by the time she entered the room and came to stand in front of his desk. "When are you leaving?"

She surprised him by speaking to him in English. But it was a game they had often played when he was a child and the language came easily to him. He answered her in kind. "At first light."

"How long will you be gone?"

"I do not know." He contemplated the woman before him. The Lady Amanda had now spent more years on Vulcan than on the planet of her birth, yet her experiences there still shadowed her life. Her fear for her son was palpable. "My plan is to spend no more than six of their months there. That should give me sufficient time for a thorough survey yet allow me to avoid the area’s more intemperate weather. Barring any unforeseen difficulties—"

"You should be back in less than a year. One of our years." She looked out the large window that dominated the room. "The kal'tas should be in bloom for your return."

Following her gaze, Spock noted the deep violet and iridescent blue of the kal'ta plants which dominated both Amanda's and now his garden. The last of its tiny red flowers littered the pathways. "That is my intention. But, Mother," she turned back, drawn by the gravity in his voice. "No survey is without risk. I may find it impossible to stay within my original timeline. Therefore, you should not be concerned if I do not return by then."

At that she smiled, though it was a smile in name only. "My son, if you do not return by the exact date of your schedule, I will insist that your father immediately send out a rescue ship. You cannot understand the danger that planet may hold for you."

"You spent your entire childhood on that planet. You survived."

She closed her eyes for a moment, as if to block out those years. "Yes, I survived, but only barely. If your father hadn't found me when he did, I don't know what would have happened to me. It was a terrible place."

She had never spoken of her home world, no matter how much he had pressed her. It was a part of his heritage he knew very little about, which was the major reason he had volunteered for this particular assignment. All he knew of Earth was what he had gleaned from previous surveys. Perhaps now... "I have heard that it had been quite lovely at one time."

She stared at him for long moments. Then, as if coming to a decision, she walked over and grabbed a chair from against the wall and placed it next to the desk. She sat down and took a deep breath. "I remember when I was a little girl, my grandmother used to tell me stories that her great-grandmother used to tell her, about how it had been, how beautiful it had been. I didn't believe her. How could I? The place where I lived was a desert.

"We lived in the ruins of a large city. Most of the people had left years before, those who could. Or they had died during the pandemics brought about by the viruses unleashed, some say with the hotter weather, but no one really knew for sure. Still, there were those who had remained but each year there seemed to be less and less of us.

"My grandmother used to say that when her great-grandmother had been little there had still been many people there and that the area had still been green, though things were already starting to change. The droughts had been coming more and more often, with less and less snow in the winter, for many years. Then suddenly a drought came and never left. That was when the trees truly started to die out."

"And no one had seen this coming?"

"I don't know. Maybe. If they did, they chose to do nothing about it. All I know is that I thought that's the way the world was. Maybe that's why I refused to believe my grandmother. But as I grew older, I kept remembering what she said and it became this lovely, awful dream of what life could have been. In many ways it made my life that much harder to bear. I don't think that had been her goal, but that's what happened.

"My family had lived in the area for a long time, probably since it had first been settled, so when I came here I asked your father to show me pictures of what it had looked like before, before it had been destroyed. I wanted to see if my grandmother had been telling the truth. Vulcan has only been sending scouts for about a hundred and fifty Terran years, but even so I was astonished at what I saw. It had been such a green place, filled with trees and mountains and rivers. Well, the mountains are still there."

She fell silent then, though her face conveyed a deep and enduring grief she usually took pains to conceal.

He took her hand, so small in his yet one that had always held such strength. "You must not despair, Mother. The Coalition has been gathering data for many years, attempting to determine the future of your planet. There may still be hope that the damage can be reversed."

"No," she wearily shook her head, "my planet is dying. Nothing can change that."

He thought to tell her that all planets die but realized that her statement had been mere hyperbole. Her grief was something he could never share. Fossil records had determined that at one time Vulcan, too, had gone through a cataclysmic climactic change but it had happened millennia before. His people had adapted and forswore against despoiling their planet.

It disturbed him that he could do nothing to assuage his mother's pain. But perhaps, by going to Earth he could uncover the mystery behind the planet's devastation. He gently squeezed her hand, in determination—and hope.

~~~~~

Spock woke just before dawn, slipping out of bed while there was only a promise of light. He showered and dressed, then quickly made his way into the kitchen to prepare himself a light breakfast. His home was only a five minute walk from the VSA’s launch area and his belongings had been taken to the ship the day before. As had become his custom, he would use this time to take a proper leave-taking of the place.

He had bid farewell to his parents the night before. His mother had insisted he have dinner with them, for who knew when they would be together again? Spock had acquiesced, since it had been his desire also, and had spent most of the previous evening in their company. Only his need for rest had made him take his leave of them. He knew it was his human blood speaking but he knew that he would miss them. None of his previous surveys had been of this length.

Now, as he cleaned up after himself, washing and drying the utensils and placing them back in their proper place, he realized that he would miss this place, too. That struck him as odd, since he had never felt that way before.

After the dissolution of his marriage and his return to his home planet, it had become his refuge. The few he had considered friends aboard the Sh’Raan had been unsettled by his altered state and the disgraceful way it had come about, and he had felt their gradual withdrawal. By the time he had given up his post, no Vulcan on the ship would associate with him.

But he had created a home, a place to return to when his work was done, either at the VSA or after a survey mission. He would complete his assignment and then take the short walk home. Once there, he could do as he pleased, be as he pleased. He had furnished it to his liking, filling it with the old-style books he loved and the ancient artifacts he had gleaned from his home world. Interspersed among them were the myriad reminders of his time aboard the Sh’Raan.

He could think back on that time now without pain.

He walked through the house, making sure everything was in its place. When he was satisfied that it was, he exited through the front door. He gave the small dwelling a last look then walked away, his steps light and unhesitant.

There was no one about yet, though the sun had finally risen, tinting the sky a hazy pink. As he approached the VSA’s large complex, he noted lights on in several of the buildings. Passing the space science building, he saw that the window which had been his was dark.

Spock skirted the large administrative building in front and walked around to the launch area. The Psthan, a one-man scout, sat among many but he would know it anywhere. He had spent many hours learning its every angle and plane, inside and out. He knew every imperfection that marred its surface, every corner of its utilitarian interior. Yet, to him, it was beautiful, a second home. As he inserted the key into the locking mechanism he touched the ship’s sleek side and vowed that he would do all in his power to keep it safe, for this small, insignificant vehicle had given him his life back. He could never forget that.

The door of the craft slid aside. He entered and quickly hit the switch to reseal the ship. Not wasting a moment, he moved quickly over to the controls and began the sequence for ignition and liftoff. His flight path to Terra was already set. He waited for permission from Vulcan Control before allowing the ship to slowly rise. Once airborne, he locked the ship on autopilot and turned on the viewing screen; he wanted nothing to interfere with the sight of Vulcan pulling away, growing smaller and smaller as the seconds past.

Finally, his home planet became lost in the background of stars. Spock turned off the screen. The low lights of the control panel were all that lit the small craft, the noise of its engines the only sound. He closed his eyes and a small smile slipped his controls. He was free once more.

~~~~~

The days that followed were a quiet interlude between the contained rush of Spock’s preparations to leave and the difficult assignment he knew awaited him. He held no illusions; he would be in constant danger. The world he was traveling to was perilous, not only because of its despoiled environment but because the population that was left had fallen to a barbaric and savage level.

Still, his mother’s planet had always held a fascination for him and he never wearied of going over the information gathered over the years by previous scouts. He knew, in several of its languages, the names of its cities and towns and of its many and diverse life forms, the measures its people kept for time and space and quantity. Now he sat before his terminal, scrolling through page after page, long after the alarm had rung to remind him of his sleep cycle. He’d committed the knowledge to memory long ago, yet each rereading seemed to bring a new understanding of a world he’d come to think of as his own.

His mother had been wrong; her planet was not dying, though it would take millennia for it to return to the state it had once enjoyed. That, in fact, was the most intriguing mystery Earth still held. Though Vulcan scouts had delved tirelessly for the answer, none had been successful in extracting the relevant information. Very little of the planet’s past knowledge had survived, its books crumbling to dust, the information stored in computers degraded. All they knew was that approximately two centuries before, the planet had begun sliding inexorably into a climatic catastrophe. Nothing they had found so far revealed anything but that the natives of the planet had done little to halt that slide. Yet, halt, it did; slowly at first, as the rise of CO2 levels decelerated and then came to a complete stop, but quickly enough to avoid total destruction.

Spock slowed the speed at which the information flew by as his father’s report appeared. Through the terse passages, Spock easily augmented the story with what he had been told by his father and his father’s mother.

Sarek had been the first Vulcan to attempt to pass himself off as human. So many areas of the planet were still highly radioactive that any difference in appearance could be easily explained as a misfortune of birth. His father had been believed and taken in by a family living in the ruins of a city near the edge of a continent. What had once been a wet and green climate had degenerated into near-desert conditions. At the same time, much of the city had been inundated by rising sea levels and the marshes to the west had turned alkaline.

Yet still, the humans had survived; not thriving perhaps, but managing to eke out an existence. At times, there had even been a little extra to be religiously put away for the hard times that would inevitably return.

As his time there grew from days to months, Sarek had grown close to one human in particular, Amanda, the youngest daughter of the group’s leader. It was she who often took him to the places where some of the old knowledge still survived. She would sit and wait while Sarek collected as much of the information as he could. But while his grasp of the human’s writing was good, it was not what a native’s was, or would have been if any of Amanda’s people had been able to read.

Still, he had made progress. But as the days had gone by, Sarek had found that the idea of returning to Vulcan no longer held the same import it once had. He found reasons to check yet one more place, take yet one more excursion, with Amanda always at his side. After all, he could only carry so many of the records out with him.

Who knows how long things would have gone on as they were if calamity had not struck. Returning to her settlement after one such excursion, they had found the place a smoking ruin. The people were either dead or dying, the rest taken as slaves by the raiders who frequently troubled the area. Among the dying had been Amanda’s parents. Of her siblings, there was no sign.

Sarek had known that if he left her there, Amanda would not survive. Lost in her shock and misery, she would have easily fallen into the hands of the next malefactor who wandered by, if she even lasted that long. She sat numb, unwilling to eat, speaking only when spoken to, and then only in monosyllabic replies.

He knew he had little choice but to take her with him.

It was a testament to his father’s ingenuity and courage that he managed to get Amanda across the twenty miles that separated his ship from the settlement. It had taken three days, days in which more than once they had had to hide from passing strangers. Whether those strangers meant harm to them or not could not be chanced. Sarek had continued to pull the near-mute woman along, focused only on getting to his ship.

Once there, the strangeness of it all had pierced the haze that had surrounded his mother. Despondency had turned to terror and it had taken all of Sarek’s considerable and persuasive skill to finally calm her down. Eventually, she had agreed to return with him to Vulcan.

Spock turned off the terminal. Since then, there had been many other expeditions, though none to the exact same area. It was a good-sized planet, though not as large as Vulcan, and there were many places left to continue the search, little time to return to a site merely out of curiosity. Spock did not know if any of his mother’s people had survived. He doubted he ever would.

As he prepared for bed, Spock thought about the area that had been chosen for him. He would be landing approximately two thousand Earth miles east of where his father’s search had taken place. It was an area that had not been as harshly affected as much of the rest of the planet. It was hoped that, here, the answer to the mystery would finally be discovered.

He imagined bringing the information back to Vulcan. He hoped his mother would be pleased.

~~~~~

Kirk stuffed the last of his clothes into the bag and closed it. He looked around his cabin. He didn’t want to forget anything; it would be two months before he’d see his ship again. He spied the book he’d been reading on the ledge next to his bunk and walked over to retrieve it.

He held it in his hands awhile, enjoying the feel of the fine binding. It was in terrific shape, considering its age. He opened it up to the title page. Twenty twenty-three, about as new as you could get.

Kirk had been looking for this particular book for a very long time. He’d managed to read almost half of it already and had developed a deep respect for the heroine, though he couldn’t imagine living among people from whom he felt so alienated. He wasn’t sure if it was courage or stubbornness that would make a person do that. He closed the book and slipped it into the side pocket of his bag, next to the other one he’d managed to acquire.

That should do it. He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked over to open the door. He stopped, giving the place yet another once over. He was going to miss the ship; she was home in a way the farm would never be again. He wished now that he hadn’t promised his mother that he would stay with her while the ship was being overhauled. He would have liked to stick around to oversee the work. Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. He walked out and closed the door behind him.

There were a few crew members still on board, mainly those who would have a hand in the ship’s repairs. Kirk waved at his boatswain on his way down the quarterdeck to where the ship was tied up to the dock. The man barely nodded, already thoroughly engrossed in his work. Knowing he had just become superfluous, Kirk took himself off the ship and started down the waterfront.

He passed a couple of other ships, one just coming in, the other appearing to be about to start out. The dock’s business had slowly grown over the years until it handled most of the traffic on this stretch of the river. It gave Kirk a good feeling.

“Hey, Jim, wait up!”

Kirk turned at the sound of McCoy’s voice. His ship’s doctor walked across the gangplank and hurried toward him. He dropped his bag and waited for the man to catch up. Slightly winded, McCoy fell into step with him as Kirk hefted his bag back up and the two started down the wharf in tandem.

“What’re you in such a hurry for?”

“No hurry, Bones, just some of us start to pack before we get to shore.”

“Hey, I was working on Danvers’ leg. Dang fool, not letting anyone know that it was broken.”

“Is he going to be all right?”

“Yeah, as long as he stays off of it for awhile. His brother is picking him up; he lives here in Muscatine and Danvers is going to be staying with him until the ship’s ready. Speaking of which, where’re you staying?”

“I’m not. I’m heading home for the duration.”

McCoy looked at him in surprise. “You’re staying at the farm? Jim boy, you’re going to be missing the ship after a week.”

His steps slowing, Kirk turned and gave the ship in question one last lingering look. “I miss her already but I promised my mother that next time we had any amount of time off I’d come home.”

“Aren’t you afraid the work won’t get done?”

“Nathan’s staying to watch over things. And I’m going to try to make it back a week early just in case.”

“Nathan’s a good man.”

Kirk agreed. Dunn had been on the ship for three years now and had proven himself to be both resourceful and, more importantly, dependable. He’d never had a better boatswain. Kirk was confident the man would make sure the work the ship desperately needed would be done and done right.

“He’ll be earning his wages. For a minute there, I honestly didn’t think we were going to make it back.” Their confrontation with the gun runners had left the ship badly damaged, as well as one man dead.

“Did you write the letter to John’s family?” McCoy quietly asked.

“Yes, but who knows when they’ll get it. They live way up near La Crosse.”

McCoy whistled softly. “That is a ways. He was only seventeen, wasn’t he?”

“Last month. He had less than a year before he would have been promoted to Seaman. He was a good kid.”

“You all right, Jim?”

“Sure, I’m fine.” He smiled at McCoy’s look of disbelief. It may have been laced with regret, but it was a smile, nonetheless. “Really, I am. I’ve lost men before; I’m sure I’ll lose more in the future. It’s hard but we go on. What else can we do?”

“I suppose. Just don’t brood over it, okay?” He thought a moment. “Hey, are you going to be okay taking this journey all by yourself? That’s a long way to travel alone.”

“It’s not that bad. I’ll spend the night in Nichols, then get a fresh start in the morning and be home by supper.” He turned his friend’s concern aside. “What about you? You ever think about going home?”

McCoy looked at him in undisguised horror. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t be caught dead going back there. Wait a minute, wrong choice of words. I could end up dead going back there.”

“Why’s that?”

“Jim, it was bad when I left; that’s why I left. Nothing I’ve heard since has made me think anything’s changed. Besides,” he shrugged, “there’s nothing for me there. All my kin’s either dead or were at odds with each other. After my wife passed, there really wasn’t any reason to stick around.”

“Well, in case I’ve never said it, I’m glad you decided to make your way up here.”

McCoy smiled. “Seems to me you might have said it a time or two, but I never get tired of hearing it.”

They took the steps up from the wharf onto the first rise of the town and proceeded down the main thoroughfare. Though many of the buildings on Muscatine’s perimeter had been either burned or plundered, its main part, standing within a range of high bluffs, had managed to hang on and even thrive during the Dark Time.

They passed several stores, many taking in some of the merchandise Kirk’s own ship had brought in. Situated on one of the great bends of the Mississippi, the town had become a natural center of commerce, with ships almost continually coming in and out of its harbor.

On the next block they crossed the street to where Kirk’s horse was stabled. He’d been stabling Erinnys there for over five years, so he knew the animal would be watered, groomed and ready to go. Outside the building they paused to make their goodbyes.

“Guess this is it for now. Stay out of trouble, McCoy; I don’t want to hear that you were shot running away from an irate husband.”

“Not me. I’m staying over at Miss Lila’s. Woman makes a mean cornbread but she’s sixty-five and probably tips the scales at two hundred pounds.” McCoy stuck out his hand. “I’ll see you in two months, Jim.”

Kirk shook his hand but then pulled McCoy into a quick hug. The ship wasn’t the only thing Kirk would miss. “You take care of yourself, Bones.”

McCoy gave him a two-fingered salute as he turned and sauntered away. Just as Kirk was about to enter the stables, his friend called out from where he stood less than thirty feet away.

“If you change your mind, I’m sure Miss Lila has a spare room.”

Kirk grinned and waved. He waited until his friend had started up the street again before he turned and entered the building.

~~~~~

Spock landed the ship within the confluence of two rivers at the bottom of a deep ravine; the thick woods and the tangled underbrush that covered the area made for a perfect hiding place. Also, he hoped that the steep sides of the ravine would dissuade anyone from venturing down. He managed to slip the craft into a small clearing within a stand of trees. He cut the engines then scanned for life-forms. There were a myriad of them, all small and non-human.

Knowing that his first duty would be to make sure the ship was not discovered, he opened the side hatch and stepped cautiously out. Though the planet’s vernal equinox was well passed, the air had a decided chill to it. Spring, they call it spring. Watching the sky slowly darken, he surmised the drop in temperature was due to the rapidly setting sun; he was confident that conditions would be more favorable during the day.

He started dragging over brush and debris in order to help disguise the ship from any who might stumble onto the location. He laid the largest branches over the main body of the craft, then interwove several smaller ones in a lattice-like fashion. Gathering a load of branches, he heaved them atop the ship then scrambled up to arrange them in such a way that the vehicle would not be seen by anyone walking along the top of the ridge.

It took some time, but when he was done he climbed down and stepped back to inspect his work. Though it would not pass close inspection, Spock believed that anyone merely passing by would believe the structure natural and continue on their way. Fortunately, nothing on this planet would accord access to the ship to even the most determined; Spock was ninety eight point seven percent certain of this. In any event, if access was imminent or if the ship was in danger of being moved, it would automatically start and lift itself into orbit. Shifting though the thick brush that concealed the entrance, he reentered the ship and locked it up for the night.

He used the sonic to cleanse himself, then donned a robe over his nightwear and prepared himself a cup of theris-masu, what his mother referred to as ‘tea.’ It occurred to him that he would have to program himself to think in Terran terms at all times, so it was tea he carried as he approached the computer station and sat down in front of the terminal. He scrolled down to where he had left off the night before and continued his studies.

Out of habit, Spock forced down the surge of elation which coursed through him as he reviewed the information. He was here as a scientist; now was not the time to indulge his emotions. He would complete his assignment to the best of his abilities in order to advance Vulcan’s knowledge; no other incentive could or should take precedence.

He printed out a map of the area, making sure that it looked as if it had been created by this planet’s technology, along with any papers he would need in order to successfully integrate himself into its society.

Lastly, he tapped in the code which would lock-in the ship’s directives in the event that it did not a receive a signal from the transponder inserted into his arm every ten Terran days or if he himself did not return to the ship within three Terran months. Under either situation, the craft would automatically lift itself into a geosynchronous orbit, where it would remain until a scout was sent from Vulcan to investigate. In either event, Spock assumed he himself would be dead.

Satisfied that he had done all he could, he got up and walked over to the door where he’d stowed the pack of equipment and supplies he had gathered for his journey. He wasn’t taking much since everything had to at least look as if it came from this planet. His tricorder and been reconfigured to look like an Earth geiger counter. Unfortunately, in doing so it had lost many of its functions. Still, it would tell him what he needed to know in regards to molecular structure and biological function.

He squatted down and inserted the maps and papers in one of the side pouches, making sure everything else was securely stowed at the same time. Levering himself back up, he moved over to the cabin’s sleeping area and lowered the lights until only the glow from the ship’s controls pierced the dark. He draped his robe over the foot of the bed and crawled under the blanket.

He gave one last thought to his mission before closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep.

~~~~~

Spock was up and about just as the sun was beginning to rise. He wanted to get an early start in the hopes of reaching his destination before noon. He dressed and ate a small breakfast, all the time running his agenda through his head. He couldn’t afford any missteps. But as he shrugged into his coat, he caught sight of himself in the mirror that hung on the closet door.

He had almost forgotten that his appearance might be a problem. He opened the closet door and pulled out a couple of knitted caps. He stuffed one into his pack and put the other on his head. He barely recognized himself, with his clothes made of organic material and his shoes heavy and ungainly. The cap had completed his transformation to that of an itinerant worker; he was ready to go.

He exited the craft, the door closing behind him as he slipped through the camouflage. The early morning weather was crisp but not unduly cold. He slung his pack over his shoulder, then at the last minute decided to add a few more branches around the craft. With one last look at his ship, he began walking.

He headed south toward the river, slowly making his way through the forest and grateful when the trees would fall away to become open glades. He kept a look out for the wildlife he knew inhabited the area but the biggest animals to cross his path were those he had learned were called squirrels. And they seemed to be everywhere.

Still, he made good progress and within an hour’s time he had reached the river. He planned to follow it west to the small community reported to be there, his first stop on a much wider ranging quest. Images transmitted by one of the satellites Vulcan had placed in orbit had shown it to be one of the small towns that had managed to hang on to some semblance of civilization. Somewhat isolated, it had escaped the holocaust which had engulfed all the larger cities, yet was close enough to one of those cities to be used as a base by him.

As he made his way down the river bank, Spock found himself falling under the place’s spell. Even the thick underbrush that sprouted here and there along the banks and that forced him back into the trees could not disrupt the serenity he found growing within himself. The crunch of leaves beneath his feet and the gurgle of the gently flowing water were the only sounds to accompany his travels. He could have been the only person on the planet. In this way, the morning passed swiftly until the sun shone almost directly overhead. He stopped to rest and to refill his canteen before continuing on.

He had been walking another two hours when the land took a bend and he was forced away from the river again. A few feet in, the forest opened up into a small glade and Spock suddenly found himself face to face with a large, four-legged herbivore.

A horse. He gazed enraptured by the beauty of the animal, the controlled strength in its sleek and powerful body. Its ebony coat gleamed in the morning light. He’d read about the animal, thoroughly studying its history and indispensable place in Terran society, yet he had never appreciated what actually encountering one would be like. It was tied to a tree, happily grazing on the grass that grew around the trunk. While haltered, it had no saddle.

Spock stepped cautiously closer. He didn’t want to frighten the animal. Finally, his arm outstretched, he let his fingers alight on the horse’s muzzle; it was amazingly soft. Moving closer still, he lay his other hand on the animal’s back, gently stroking.

“Freeze right where you are.”

Spock did as he was told, his hand halting in mid-stroke.

“Now, put your hands over your head and turn slowly around.”

Lifting his arms up, Spock stepped away from the animal and turned to face his challenger.

The man was of medium height and build, though there was a certain strength in his bearing that belied his stature. He was well dressed, with a coat and vest of a fine material and a white tucked-in scarf about his neck, proclaiming at least moderate wealth. He certainly gave the impression that he was a man used to be obeyed. Yet his manner was not that of an idle person. Whatever or whoever this man was, he was not an unproductive one. He also, not incidentally, held a gun in his hand.

“I meant no harm,” Spock declared.

“Yeah, that’s what they all say.” The man motioned him away from the horse. Keeping the gun trained on him, he then proceeded to run his hands over Spock, as if looking for something.

“I carry no weapons.”

“No offense, but I’ll check for myself.” Apparently satisfied, he allowed Spock to drop his arms. “So, what are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere and what were you trying to do with my horse?”

“I am journeying to the nearby town in search of work. I merely wished to examine your horse.” He gazed at the animal. “A most fascinating animal.”

The man eyed him suspiciously for a moment and then, almost reluctantly, returned his gun to the holster he wore beneath his coat. “Yes, he is,” he conceded as he circled around Spock and to the horse’s other side. He smoothed his hands over the animal, as if relaying calm through his touch. “It’s okay, Erinnys, I’m here now.”

The horse nodded his head, as if agreeing with the man.

“I’ve got coffee if you’d like some.” The man turned, his steps taking him away from the animal.

Spock followed. Past the horse, a fire, now out, had been built in a circle of stones. Perched along the stones was a cup and a coffee pot. Nearby, nestled against a fallen log, was a saddle and pack, with a blanket rolled out on the ground. The man sat down on the blanket, folding his legs under him and motioning to the tree stump nearby. “Take a seat.”

Spock did as the man said, while the man pulled a second cup out of his pack and filled both. He handed one to Spock. “I’ve got some jerky to go along with that if you’d like.”

“I am not familiar with that particular food.”

“You’ve never heard of jerky? It’s meat that’s been spiced and dried. It’s not the best tasting food in the world but it lasts practically forever.”

“I do not eat meat,” Spock responded, trying not to show his distaste.

Kirk shrugged sheepishly as he took a piece from out of his pocket. “Yeah, I know, I know. But we had to do something with the deer that were getting into the crops.”

Spock looked at him quizzically, unsure of what Kirk was saying at first. When realization hit, he stared at the piece of meat in Kirk’s hand. He had been on many worlds where the natives ate their fellow creatures. But he had never met anyone who had actually done the killing.

“So, you’re looking for work.”

“That is correct.” Spock, glad for the change of subject, took a sip of the dark liquid. It was quite good. He’d gained an appreciation of the beverage as a boy after he had finally talked his mother into allowing him some. The plant on which the beans grew did quite well in certain areas of Vulcan.

“Where are you from?”

“I was born several hundred miles from here, near the town of Seattle, but have not been there for many years.” Spock hoped the man didn’t want the particulars. He wasn’t sure his cover story would hold up under scrutiny.

“Wanderer, huh?” The man smiled. “I know the feeling. If it weren’t for my family, I probably wouldn’t ever come home.” Then, as if only remembering, he stuck out his hand. “Jim Kirk. I live near that town you’re headed for.”

Spock hesitantly took his hand. He’d been warned about this particular custom. “I am Spock.”

“Just Spock?”

“Is it not enough?”

Kirk laughed then leaned back, giving Spock a look that seemed to signify appreciation. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Spock. What kind of work are you looking for?”

“I am not particular. While clerical work would be ideal, I am not adverse to working outdoors.”

Kirk appeared to give it some thought. “I’m not sure if you’ll be able to find anything. Most of what there is to do, the people mostly do themselves. We’ve made ourselves pretty self sufficient. It’s easier for them to plant a few things and then trade off with the other farmers, so that means less men are needed. I can ask around if you’d like, though.”

“That would be most appreciated.” Spock studied his companion. “You are not a farmer.”

“No, I’m not, though not from lack of trying on my mother’s part. I’m a ship’s captain.”

“Indeed.” Spock looked around. “I did not imagine a ship could easily maneuver on this river.”

Kirk chuckled. “It can’t. My ship’s docked in Muscatine, on the Mississippi. I try to make it home a couple of times a year to help out around the place.”

“What type of ship is it?” Spock had been surprised at the sudden ache he’d felt at Kirk’s pronouncement. He’d thought any emotional attachment he’d had to the Sh’Raan long since ruthlessly smothered. Apparently not.

“A gaff rigged three-masted cargo schooner, though we do a lot more than haul cargo. The way things are, we’re a combination hauler, passenger, research and military ship. She also happens to be about the biggest ship on the River, our part of it, anyway. Ninety seven tons, when her ten sails are in the wind she’s one hundred thirty seven feet of sheer beauty.”

Spock could not help but notice how Kirk’s eyes shone as he spoke of his ship. “You say she is the largest on the river?”

“Can’t get any bigger without bottoming out. Parts of the river are only nine feet deep and that’s only because we work at keeping it that way. The Enterprise’s draft is eight and a half feet. That’s her name, Enterprise.

“She sounds like a fine ship.”

“She is, about the best there’s ever been.” Kirk smiled sheepishly. “Don’t get me started or I’ll talk about her all day and,” he threw the remains of his coffee onto the ashes of the fire and stood up, “I really need to be getting on. I’d like to get home while there’s still some daylight left.”

Spock drank the rest of his coffee and handed the cup back to Kirk. “I appreciate the coffee and the company.” He stepped back and raised his hand. “Live long and prosper, Jim Kirk.”

“Uh, you, too, Mr. Spock.”

Spock began walking down the path he’d hope would lead back to the river. He’d gone less than twenty feet when he heard Kirk call his name. He turned, tilting his head in inquiry.

“Since we’re going in the same way, why don’t I give you lift? It’s less than five miles; Erinnys can carry both of us that far, no problem.”

He hesitated, not sure if it would be wise to spend any amount of time in any one person’s company.

“Come on, Mr. Spock. I’m tired of talking to my horse. The road to our farm is right outside of town. I’ve got to go that way, anyway.”

It certainly made sense and Spock had to admit that he, too, had welcomed the conversation. “Very well.”

“Great. All I have to do is get my gear together and we can be on our way.”

Kirk gathered his things and quickly saddled his horse, pulling himself onto its back with ease. He extended his hand to Spock.

With only slight trepidation, Spock grabbed Kirk’s hand and allowed him to help him onto the animal. He tried not to squirm as he settled as comfortably as he could on the horse’s back.

“You might want to put your arms around my waist,” Kirk suggested. “There’s less chance of falling off that way.”

Spock did as he was told, locking his hands together in front of the human. With a soft nickering sound, Kirk encouraged the horse forward. The animal carried them easily and within minutes they were traveling along an open stretch next to the river.

~~~~~

“We should be there in less than an hour.”

Spock surveyed the way ahead. They had been riding for less than ten minutes, but contrary to Kirk’s words most of it had been in silence. And while still in the forest, it did seem as if the trees were thinning out. “Are there many farms in the area?”

“A little over a dozen. The town’s steadily grown but we’re still pretty small. We don’t get many new people wandering in. I guess I should warn you, most people are going to ask a lot more questions than I did.”

“I have nothing to hide.”

“That’s good to hear, though hard to imagine.”

“Indeed? And why is that?”

“I don’t know.” He eyed Spock over his shoulder. “Maybe because I get the impression that there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

Spock looked down at himself. “Not that I am aware of.”

Kirk grinned. “I was thinking, you could say I picked you up in Muscatine, that you were on one of the other ships and asked for a ride.”

“Why would you do so?”

“I’m not really sure.” He glanced back, as if hoping to see something that would answer his question. “I guess I trust you, don’t ask me why.”

Spock could not say, yet he could not deny that he felt the same way. Through their forced physical contact, Spock could tell that Kirk was telling the truth, yet even without the aid of his telepathy he would have said that he trusted Kirk. He had heard of such a natural affinity between two beings but he himself had never experienced it before.

“Is it so rare for you to trust?” he finally asked.

“I wouldn’t say so. And I’m usually a pretty good judge of character, though I have made some huge mistakes in the past,” he added with a grimace.

“I can assure you, you have not this time.”

Kirk looked back once again but said nothing before turning forward. Soon, the land opened up and they left the forest behind. Though he kept close to the river, without the shade of the forest the day grew warm and after awhile Spock could feel a dampness forming where he and Kirk’s bodies touched. Spock found himself lulled by the heat and the soft sway of the horse beneath him.

“It’ll be nice being home, at least for awhile,” Kirk suddenly pronounced.

“You do not plan on remaining for any length of time?”

“A couple of months, maybe. The ship’s in dry dock. They’ll be sandblasting and repainting the hull, replacing most of the sails and probably the rudder while they’re at it. Plus, the engines probably need an overhaul. We used them quite a lot this year. I put it off as long as I could; we’re always short when it comes to ships, so it’s a real hardship for any of them to be out of commission for so long.”

“Engines? I thought your ship was a sailing vessel.”

“It is, but there are times when the only way you’re going to get anywhere on the river is with an engine. We try to keep its use to a minimum, coal’s awfully expensive, but it happens.”

“Is there danger involved in what you do?” The Sh'Raan had been in her share of battles, but Spock did not know how similar Kirk’s situation was to what his had been.

Kirk appeared to weigh his words. “I suppose a lot of people would say so. We’ve had our share of run-ins with smugglers and drug runners, even a couple of attempted invasions from down south, but I’ve only lost a handful of men over the years. That’s something, isn’t it?”

Spock thought that it was more than something and he felt a budding respect for Kirk. The man was not only willing to help a stranger in need, but apparently had no qualms in putting his life on the line for others. Compassion and courage, Kirk had his share of both.

“You must tell me more about your ship.”

It was all Spock had to say. For the rest of their journey, Kirk kept up a running monologue. The man loved his ship and only loved talking about her a little less.

Spock found himself caught up in Kirk’s discourse. He learned more than he’d ever thought to about gun ports, jib booms and mizzens; boatswains, halyards and jury masts. Too soon, he noticed the barest outline of the town off in the distance. Kirk had not exaggerated; calling the place a town was a kindness.

“We are nearing our destination, are we not?” he asked.

Kirk nodded. “I’ll drop you off right outside of town. There’s no hotel, but the lady who runs the Morning Star Cafe rents the rooms on the second floor. Her name’s Merilyn Talbot. Just tell her I sent you. She doesn’t get much business so every little bit helps. You do have money, don’t you?”

“Most certainly.” After all these years and missions, the VSA had collected script from almost all of the various governments which had sprung up to replace those that had fallen. The one in control of this area was one of the more stable so it was easier for them to keep a supply on hand, since the currency, and the government, had not changed in many years. The same could not be said for many of the other places they’d visited.

They rode another ten minutes before Kirk stopped. Ahead, perhaps another hundred feet, lay the town of Riverside. Off to their right a road diverged, its path meandering off into the distance. “That leads to our farm.”

Spock slid off the horse and readjusted his pack onto his back. He looked up at Kirk. “It has been an honor meeting you, Jim Kirk.”

Kirk smiled. “You make it sound like goodbye. I’m sure we’ll be running into each other from time to time.”

“Then I will await our next meeting.”

“Me, too, Mr. Spock. Me, too.” With that, Kirk turned his horse and rode off, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. Almost out of sight, he turned and waved. Spock waved back and then began to walk toward the town.


onto Chapter 2