Future Imperfect (K/S) Pt 2 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. Artwork by Lorraine Brevig and Virginia Sky.

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






Chapter 2

Kirk had not misinformed him. The town was small; Spock calculated that it held not more than three hundred people, and every one of them that he passed eyed him curiously, though there were no overt signs of hostility. Rather, it was the reaction of those long used to the insular state of their lives. Neither did they greet him nor made any attempt to stop his progress through the town. And with each encounter he became more aware of just how unique Jim Kirk was and how differently his time here could have been if it weren’t for their meeting.

He’d been walking for several minutes before he saw the sign for the Morning Star Cafe. It was hooked to a tall pole that stood before a large, two story structure with two gables on top and a profuse garden within its wrought iron fencing. Spock entered through the gate and took the flight of steps onto the porch that wrapped itself around two sides of the building.

He entered, ignoring the lull in conversation from the few occupied tables in the dining area. In front of him a sign read, ‘Please wait to be seated,’ so he did.

From where he stood he could see into the kitchen. A young woman, perhaps thirty Terran years old, stood next to an older woman in front of a large stove. He could tell the older woman was the one doing the cooking, the younger being far too neat and orderly to have been standing in front of a fire for any length of time. Also, she conveyed a sense of authority which the older woman lacked.

He watched the two of them and was already catching signs of the very different way the people of this planet interrelated. Though the older woman’s attention seemed fixed on her task, yet there was a smile on her face as she listened to her young companion. The young woman leaned forward and placed her hand on her arm as she spoke; never would that have been done on Vulcan. Her dark brown hair had fallen to hide her face but then she threw her head back and laughed and the older woman looked up at her with true affection. Then the older woman’s eyes shifted and she caught Spock watching them. She looked back at the other woman and with a nod of her head alerted her to his contemplation of them.

The younger woman stared back for a moment but then came out and approached him. The look she gave him was a cautious one as she drew nearer.

“You’re a little late for dinner but there’s probably a couple of items available,” she announced while at the same time grabbing one of the folders stacked on a nearby table. She glanced behind him. “Are you alone?”

“Yes, but I did not come for sustenance. Are you Miss Talbot? If so, I was directed here by Jim Kirk. He said you might have a room available.”

“You’re a friend of Jim’s?”

Any suspicions she may have had seemed to vanish at the sound of Kirk’s name. She smiled broadly and Spock wondered what exactly her relationship to Kirk was.

“We are...acquainted. We met when he returned from his last voyage.”

“He’s back? That’s wonderful news.”

“So, you do have a room available?”

“Oh, yes.” She gave her head a quick shake. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I didn’t expect Jim back so soon and, well, anyway....” Her voice trailed off as she put the folder back on the stack and then motioned him over to a small room tucked next to the kitchen. Most of the space was taken up by a small battered desk and the chair that the woman promptly sat in. “Rates are five dollars a day or thirty for the week. Do you know how long you’ll be staying?”

“At least a week, perhaps longer.”

“In that case, why don’t you just pay for a week right now? We can settle up the rest when you leave. I think I can trust you with it, you being a friend of Jim’s.”

Spock would not have put it quite that way but said nothing, instead he pulled his bag around and removed thirty dollars from one of the side pockets. She took the money and then opened up the desk’s middle drawer and pulled out a key with a large tag attached to it. The tag had the number three emblazoned across it in red paint.

“Take the stairs to the second floor. They’re right on the other side.” She motioned to the wall in front of her. “It’s the second door on the left. It’s not fancy, but it’s clean and the view of the stream out back is especially nice this time of year. Plus, your meals come with the cost of the room.”

“That is acceptable.”

“The bathroom is at the end of the hallway. You’ll share that with any other guests but since you’re the only one we have right now it’s all yours. Clean towels will be left in your room and there’s a hamper in the bathroom where you can dispose of them. And you can use the pump in there to refill the pitcher in your room.” She worried her lip. “I can’t think of anything else right now. But if you have any questions I’m normally somewhere down here during most of the day.”

“I do not believe there is anything else I need.”

“Oh, one thing, visitors have to leave by eight in the evening.” She paused. “Was Jim planning on coming into town tonight?”

“He did not say.”

“Oh.” Her disappointment was palpable. She forced a smile back on her face and handed Spock the key.

Their transaction completed, Talbot returned to her duties while Spock climbed the stairs up to the second floor.

His room turned out to be more than adequate. The bed was a bit smaller than the one in his ship but the linens were clean and, after sitting on it, Spock surmised that the bed was probably almost as comfortable. In one corner, a small table held a pitcher and wash bowl. To its right against the back wall, was a three drawered dresser. Standing up, he approached the dresser and proceeded to empty most of the items from his pack into its drawers. What was left he hung in the wardrobe on the other side of the bed and deposited his bag in the space at its bottom.

With his unpacking completed, he walked over to the window and pulled the curtain aside. Below him, as Miss Talbot had said, a small stream ran about thirty feet from the back of the building. In between, chairs and a small table sat in the middle of a grassy area.

It reminded him of his mother. She had created a small sanctuary for herself, a Terran garden tucked away on the side of the house that received the least amount of sunlight. The plants his father had had brought back from this planet for her were nothing like what stood outside, yet both held the unmistakable quality of Earth. Green and water-rich, no matter that Amanda had known them only through others’ memories, they were part of the unbreakable chain which still tied her to the planet of her birth. With his journey here, he had created yet another link.

He let out a deep breath. He had taken the first step into being accepted into the community; he had a place of residence. Tomorrow he would take the second step and find employment. After that, he would start his quest for information.

Outside, clouds were slowly building. Heavy with moisture, they scudded across the sky, bringing a promise of rain. Spock repressed a shiver. It was not just the people that were so at odds to what he knew.

He let the curtain fall closed.

~~~~~

The sun, barely visible behind the clouds, was beginning to set by the time Kirk reached the farm. Out in the corral, Pete, one of only three farmhands they employed, was hauling a bag of oats off the wagon and dragging it into the barn. Kirk swore. It was long past time the man should be doing that sort of work. He rode past him and grabbed the bag in one hand. He held on long enough to get it over to the stall where the rest were being stored before unceremoniously dropping it on top.

“You know, your ma would be right upset if one of those bags splits open and we ends up with oats all over the floor,” Pete grumbled.

Kirk smiled at the old man, who’d been around since long before Kirk had been born. “Never happen, Pete.” He dismounted and walked his horse to its stall. Toward the back, he could hear the dogs shuffling about in the hay. One came out and demanded a pet before returning to its bed. “Is she in the house?”

“Last I heard.” Pete walked over and helped Kirk remove the saddle from his horse, then took the brush from him when he tried to brush Erinnys down. “You should be saying hello to your ma first.”

“Can’t do that, Pete. Horse comes first, you taught me that.”

The old man smiled but kept at his task, his brush strokes gentle yet firm across the horse’s sleek flanks. “I can do this, even if you do think I’m too old for much else.”

“There’s plenty of things you can still do around here without half killing yourself.”

“I’m stronger than I look. Strong enough to go with Elijah to Ottumwa to pick up a supply of coal next week.”

Kirk frowned. “I wish you’d take a couple more men with you. I’ve heard there’s been more and more holdups along that stretch.”

Pete stopped his brushing and eyed Kirk. “Quit acting like I’ve got one foot in the grave. Besides, ain’t no one else to take. Your ma needs Lester here to take up the slack while we’re gone.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I’ll be here,” he responded mockingly. Lester Nourse, six feet four inches of muscle and about as strong as they came, was worth two men, even if he was pushing sixty, but that didn’t mean Kirk had any intentions of not helping out during his stay.

Pete let out a cackle and resumed grooming the horse. “No offense, but ol’ Lester’s forgotten more about farming than you ever learned.” He sobered. “You do more than your part, you know that, don’t you? Keepin’ the area safe, keepin’ things movin’; I don’t know what we’d do without you and your men.”

Kirk looked down for a moment, the words affecting him deeply. His father and brother had both died when Kirk was only twelve; Pete hadn’t thought twice about taking a young, grief-stricken boy under his wing. He cleared his throat. “We all do our part.”

“Yeah, well, my part is gettin’ enough coal for this farm. Now, go on with you. Your ma is sure to have seen you ride up and is probably waiting on you right now.”

He knew the old man was right, so he nodded and started for the door. But as he was about to leave the barn he stopped and turned. “I mean it, Pete. You and Elijah be careful.”

Pete made a sound of disgust and kept brushing Kirk’s horse. With a resigned wave, Kirk left the man to his chore and headed for the house. Just then the sky opened up. With a burst of speed, Kirk raced to the house and up onto the porch. The front door was open, and through the screen door the alluring smell of bread being baked wafted out. He took time to remove his boots before going in, closing both doors behind him. He knew the rain would bring a drop in temperature.

He walked down the hall toward the kitchen in the back. “Mom, I’m home!”

“In here, Jim.”

Kirk followed the sound of his mother’s voice into the kitchen where he found her standing before the large wooden table used for both preparing and consuming food. There was an extremely large cookbook opened in front of her, though she looked ready to toss it out. He walked up to her side and kissed her on the cheek.

“What’s the matter?” He glanced at the book whose pages she was furiously flipping through.

“I can’t find my recipe for meat loaf.”

“I would have thought you’d have it memorized by now.”

She closed the book with disgust and then turned to pull him into a fierce hug. “I do, but I wanted to make sure I had it exactly right.”

He kissed her again, this time on the top of the head. He wasn’t a tall man but he topped his mother by a good five inches. “You know anything you cook always comes out perfect.”

She pushed him away with a laugh and motioned him to the chair across the table. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Now, tell me about your latest voyage. Did you run into any pirates? Break up any gangs of smugglers?”

“No, nothing so exciting.” He sat down and then grabbed an apricot from the bowl on the table. He took a bite, savoring the burst of flavor before continuing. “We had a few passengers but mainly we were loaded with cotton from down river.”

“Why is it that I find that hard to believe?” She gave him a mildly disapproving look but then just rolled her eyes. “I suppose if something happened that you think I’m better off not knowing, then maybe I’m better off not knowing it.”

That was exactly what he thought. It was over and done with; no reason to worry her unnecessarily.

“Oh, I did manage to pick up a couple of books. They’re in my saddle bag...which happens to be out in the barn. Sorry.”

Her eyes lit up. It was a passion they shared. “Anything interesting?” she asked as she sat across from him, her book forgotten.

“One’s medical and the only reason I still have it in my possession is because there was a second copy for McCoy. Copyright nineteen ninety three, if you can believe that. Talk about a find. Bones was ecstatic. The other one’s a novel. Both are in great condition. I don’t know where the guy found them, you know how secretive scavengers can be, but I’ve put in an order for about a dozen of the books we’ve been looking for. He says he’ll keep an eye out for them.”

“They do seem harder and harder to find, don’t they?” She shook her head. “Can you imagine, people used to throw them away.”

“No, actually I can’t.” He reached over and took her hand. “It’s good to be home.”

She eyed him mockingly. “Sure it is. For maybe a couple of weeks. Then you’ll be itching to get back to that ship of yours.”

“No, this time I’m here for a couple of months. We were past due for an overhaul.”

“Lord, you’ll be climbing the walls in a month. I can’t imagine what you’ll do to keep yourself out of trouble. It’s not like there’s anything interesting going on around here.”

“Well, actually,” he gave her a sly smile, “I did run into a very interesting stranger on the way home.”

“Oh, really?” Her eyes widened and she leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table. “I want to hear all about it.”

“Not much to tell. I ran into him about five miles outside of town and gave him a lift in. He said he was looking for work.”

“There’s not much work to be found around here.”

“I told him that, but you never know. He seemed to be, I don’t know, the sort of person who can manage to find work no matter where they are.” He thought about Spock, about the strange interplay of aloofness and innocence that Kirk could not but find appealing. That he was also graced with a strange sort of beauty had only added to the man’s attraction. “He seemed...complete. Does that make sense?”

She smiled. “I can’t wait to meet this guy.”

“I don’t know that you will. If he doesn’t find work, I imagine he’ll head off to the next town.”

“He might get lucky, you never know. Are you planning on going into town tomorrow?”

He really didn’t have to think about it, though he went through the pretense, making her wait several seconds for his answer. “Yes, I think I will.” He took several more bites off the apricot, worrying at the problem. “I haven’t seen Merilyn for quite awhile.”

“Right, you’re going into town to see Merilyn.” She rolled her eyes as she stood. Behind her a pot of something simmered on the stove and she turned her attention to it.

He tried not to blush. His mother had known of his side interest almost as soon as he had. But it still made him uncomfortable. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like women, he liked them fine. And it wasn’t as if same gender sex was looked down on by people; that kind of thinking had just about disappeared along with the civilization that had fostered it. Perhaps it was because, as the years had gone by, he’d come to realize that maybe his interest in men wasn’t the side interest. And that could be a problem.

They were so fewer people now that children were a prized possession that one cared for and nurtured, hoping that they survived those first dangerous years. To not have children was seen as the height of selfishness. No matter where one’s desires lay, a man was expected to take a wife and have children.

Still, the sort of life he’d made for himself precluded a satisfying marriage. He supposed he could always marry Merilyn; he knew she’d jump at the chance. But her life would be one of loneliness, as he got her pregnant then left for his ship and freedom. She would have his children but never him. No matter that he was expected to marry and have offspring, he wasn’t sure he could do that to a woman.

He finished off the apricot, tossing the pit into the bin for compost and grabbed a cloth to wipe his hands down. Then he stood and approached his mother. “But right now, I’d love a nice, long soak and a good night’s sleep in my own bed.”

“I started the fires in the bathhouse when I saw you ride up. But is this all you’re going to have? A piece of fruit?”

“I suppose I could be talked into eating if some kind soul were to prepare a plate of food for me and sent it up by the time I finish bathing.”

“Some kind soul might, but you’re eating at the kitchen table just like the rest of us.”

He laughed and took her in a bear hug. “Never let it be said that Winona Kirk let anyone get anything past her, including her son.”

“But you never stop trying, do you?” She extricated herself from his arms, her attention already back to her cooking. “Dinner should be ready in about forty-five minutes. Now, shoo.”

He did, visions of hot baths and cool sheets...and long, lean strangers playing through his mind.

~~~~~

Spock closed the establishment’s door firmly behind him. He had hoped this would be the place where he would finally gain employment. He certainly had the knowledge required; he’d made a special study of Earth’s domestic animals. But the young veterinarian had no need for an assistant. ‘Not at this time,’ in any event.

He looked back in the direction he had come. He’d visited the mercantile store, the blacksmith shop, the law enforcement office (where for a moment he feared he might be forced to stay,) the barber shop, the candle maker’s, and the doctor’s office, along with another dozen businesses. At every one, his requested employment had been rejected.

Looking ahead, he realized he had but one more opportunity. He stepped off the sidewalk and, crossing the street, headed for the town’s one and only drinking establishment.

It stood off by itself, the lone building in what had once probably been a thriving part of town. Behind it, the skeletons of several buildings stood, the road that fronted them disappearing beneath the grass.

He approached it and stopped out front to examine the building. ‘Sevilla’s’ had been amateurishly lettered across the front window, cutting the light into its already dim interior. Peering inside, Spock could barely make out the long bar that sprawled along the right wall. Two tables with green cloth tops took up the back area. The rest of the place was filled with booths and tables except for a small spot in the front left corner where a piano sat.

As it was midday, the establishment was empty but for the man standing behind the bar washing glasses and a couple sitting at one of the tables. Of the two, the woman seemed more aware of her surroundings, as the man sat slightly slumped in his chair.

Spock finally walked in and approached the man at the bar. He was about Spock’s height and build, though slightly older, as his thick brown hair was shot with gray. When he looked up, fine lines crinkled his dusky complexion, especially around his eyes, which sparked with intelligence.

“What can I get you?” the man asked as he wiped down the glass in his hand.

Spock noted that those hands were large and looked to have done their share of manual labor.

“I was hoping to find employment here. Are you the proprietor?”

“Gilbert Sevilla, at your service.” Sevilla didn’t try to shake hands but continued his work. “Wasn’t really looking for any help. What can you do?”

Spock turned and let his gaze sweep the area before returning his attentions to Sevilla. “I can clean.”

The man laughed. “Touché. But I do most of the cleaning, my friend. It looks this way right now because I’ve just started. And I don’t need another cook.” He eyed Spock speculatively. “You wouldn’t happen to play the piano, would you?”

He did indeed. “May I?” He looked toward the piano.

With a wave of his hand, several small soap bubbles trailing behind, Sevilla motioned his consent.

Spock made his way through the tables, passing the couple who gave him only a cursory look as he reached the piano and pulled out its bench. Taking a seat, he opened the lid over the keyboard.

He ran his fingers lightly over the keys, not enough for sound but merely to feel the texture of the instrument. His mother had coerced his father into having one built, the plans for one having long ago been found and included in Earth’s database. One of Spock’s earliest memories was of hearing his mother play. She favored short, lively pieces, what she said were contemporary to her time. But every so often Spock would hear her play something different, “classical,” she would explain, long somber pieces that would match her mood.

That she had made him learn went without saying, especially the classical works. Somehow, that it was him playing them had acted as a balm, so that she could, and did, listen to him often. Sitting in her favorite chair, her head resting against its back, her eyes closed, she seemed to be able to forget the tragedy of her world and find tranquility in its ancient music.

He began with a short piece, a serenade, before moving on to something a bit more complex. The piano was in excellent condition, its notes crisp and clear.

“That is lovely. One of Chopin’s?”

Spock hadn’t noticed Sevilla walk over. The man now stood next to him, his elbow propped on the piano top as he watched Spock play.

“His nocturne in E-flat Major, Opus nine.”

“Yes,” Sevilla nodded, “I remember now.” He remained quiet until the end of the piece. “Do you know Beethoven’s Fur Therése?”

Spock had to think about it a moment, knowing the pieces more by their opus numbers rather than titles. But then it came to him and he began to play again.

Sevilla smiled. “That was my wife’s favorite.”

“Was?”

“She died several years ago.”

Spock continued playing, finishing the piece and then resting his hands on the keys. “I grieve with thee.”

“It’s been so many years, almost twenty I think, I sometimes forget what she looked like. We were both so young; it’s hard to imagine myself being that young. But I still remember her playing that piece.”

“Music has a tendency to remain with us.”

“That it does. Do you know any other kinds of songs, something more lively, that people can dance to?”

“A few, though not enough to satisfy your customers for more than a night or two. If you have any sheet music it would be most helpful.”

“I’ll dig out my wife’s old music.” Sevilla seemed to hesitate. “Listen, I can’t afford to take on someone just to play the piano. If you’d be willing to help out at night, serve drinks, clean up the tables, that sort of thing, I think I could see my way through to hiring you.”

“That would be acceptable.”

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“I have taken a room above the Morning Star cafe.”

Sevilla nodded. “A fine establishment and Miss Talbot is a fine woman.”

“You are acquainted with her?”

“Oh—” He laughed. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name.”

“Spock. I am Spock.”

“Is that your first name or your last name?”

“It is the only name I possess.”

“Okay, Spock. Everyone knows everyone in Riverside. I assume you know no one from around here?”

“I am acquainted with Jim Kirk.” It surprised him how easily the lie was to repeat, as if there was more than just a kernel of truth to it.

“Ah, yes, Captain James Kirk. A good man. He comes in here often, to drink and to eat. We may not set as fine a spread as Miss Talbot but the food is good. You’ll see. Come, I’ll draw up some sort of contract.”

Spock stood and followed the man to the bar. While Sevilla looked around for a paper and pencil, Spock took a seat and gave his new place of employment another look. He now realized that one of the doors on the wall across from the bar opened onto a large kitchen.

“Is fifty dollars a week okay?” Sevilla asked. “That includes lunch and dinner with Sundays off.”

“That will be sufficient.” Even with slightly over half going toward his rent, Spock felt that would leave him with more than enough to acquire anything else he might find a need for.

“Gil.” The woman at one of the tables called out as she stood. Sevilla nodded and she led the man she’d been seated with through the doorway next to the kitchen.

“Do you also rent rooms?” Spock asked, puzzled by the exchange.

Sevilla chuckled. “You could say, but I have a feeling they aren’t exactly the type of room you’d be looking for, my friend. That woman, she’s one of three who, how shall I say? Entertains the men.”

Spock’s eyebrows shot up. “You run a brothel?” He’d heard of them. Vulcan scouts had not explored one town that did not have one.

“I don’t know if I’d call it that.” At the look from Spock, Sevilla gave a dismissive shrug. “Okay, maybe you can call it that. But it gives the ladies a nice, clean, safe place to ply their wares. I only charge them what it costs me to heat the rooms. Besides, I wasn’t using the space. I’ve got a room past the kitchen that’s plenty big enough for me. It seemed a shame to waste the rest.”

“You need not explain. I was merely surprised.”

“Then it’s not a problem for you?”

“No, why should it be?”

“No reason but you never know with people. There are still some crazy ideas running around out there.”

“As long as I am not expected to participate, the women may do as they please.”

Sevilla laughed at that. “I think you’re going to fit in just fine around here, Spock. Come, let me show you where everything is.”

~~~~~

Kirk dismounted and tied Erinnys to the light post positioned right off the street. The large, imposing structure that was the Morning Star Cafe reared up in front of him. It wasn’t the building that had him standing out here, hat in hand, reluctant to enter, though.

He’d known for awhile that the air needed to be completely and utterly cleared between him and Merilyn. What had started out a mutual crush between two very young people had gone in two totally different directions; while Merilyn’s feelings had deepened, his had shown to be nothing more than friendship. So he’d tried to keep it casual after that, never pushing for more than a kiss, never speaking in terms of forever, but somehow she’d read that into his actions anyway. Or maybe because of them. Thing was, he didn’t want to have that conversation right now.

Why the hell he had recommended this place to Spock in the first place was beyond him. Maybe, he had to admit, because the only other place in town with rooms was the last place he could imagine Spock living. The man was too refined, too, he hated to use the word innocent but that was there, too. He certainly couldn’t see him bedding down while right next door women plied their trade. Not that Gil made a habit of renting the rooms to men.

Come on, get your ass in there.

If he could get past the foyer without being seen, he could sneak up the stairs and find Spock. There weren’t so many rooms that it would be difficult to do. With a last absent-minded pat on his horse’s head, Kirk hurried up the walkway and climbed the steps onto the porch.

He tried peering through the glass of the front door. It looked dark inside, but he knew that was deceiving. Because of the direction the house faced, the foyer was usually cloaked in darkness. The only exception was during meal times, when it behooved Merilyn to put a lantern out so that her customers could see where they were going.

Quietly opening the door, he walked in, turned left and headed for the stairs.

“Hello, Jim.”

He stopped short and turned. Merilyn stood next to the entrance to the dining area, her arms full of thick, cardboard menus. He approached her and hesitantly smiled.

“Hello, Merilyn. It’s good seeing you again.”

She glanced behind him. “Where were you going?”

“Oh, I was looking for Spock. He came here, didn’t he? I recommended the cafe to him.”

“He’s here, or he was.”

“What do you mean? He didn’t get a room here?”

“Of course he did. But he was out all day looking for a job. He came back a couple of hours ago but then left again. It seems he found one.”

“Did he?” Kirk asked, both surprised and glad for Spock. For himself, too, if he was honest. If Spock had a job, it meant he planned to stick around for awhile.

“Yes,” she tried smothering her smile. “At Sevilla’s.”

“At Sevilla’s? Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Granted, it’s not the first place I would have imagined him finding a job, but work is work.”

“Then I guess I’ll go look for him there.” Kirk smiled and turned as if to leave.

“It’s almost dinner time. Why don’t you stay here for awhile? I could fix you something to eat.”

“I wouldn’t want you to go to all that trouble. I’ll just pick something up at Sevilla’s.”

“Nonsense.” She put her arm through his and turned as if to lead him toward the dining room. “It’s not any trouble at all. Besides, it’s been months since I’ve seen you.”

“I don’t—”

“Please, Jim, I’d really like to spend some time with you.”

He knew when he was beat. He pasted on a smile. “All right, Merilyn, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

They walked into the mostly empty dining room. Except for an elderly couple in the corner, they had the place to themselves. She led him to a table with a view of the side garden.

“You sit here. I’ll be right back.”

She turned and hurried toward the kitchen. With a sigh, Kirk took a chair. Glancing around, he noticed the elderly couple looking at him. He smiled but they looked away, as if caught spying. Probably, they were.

He gazed out into the garden. This really was a lovely place, but he’d give anything to be someplace else. He had the sneaking suspicion that the only way he was getting out of here was by being brutally honest with Merilyn. He didn’t want to hurt her but he had a pretty good idea that he was going to be forced to.

Fifteen minutes later she reappeared, holding a tray with both hands. Setting it down on a nearby table, she proceeded to set two places and then serve them both. Finally, she took the chair across from him.

Kirk picked up the wine bottle she’d brought and after asking with a look, poured a glass for both of them. He raised his glass. “To good friends.”

She froze in the process of raising her own. “That’s an odd toast.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because we’re so much more than ‘friends,’ aren’t we?”

He looked down, took a breath, and then faced her. “No, Merilyn, I don’t think we are.”

“I thought...” She turned her face away. “I thought there was more between us than that.”

“There might have been once, but we’re too different, we want different things.”

She looked at him, clearly mystified. “What are you talking about? We had such wonderful times together.”

“Yes, we did but that’s not enough to create a life together, Merilyn. You need someone who’ll be around all the time, who will help you with the cafe. I’m just not that man.”

“You could be if you wanted to.”

“No,” he reached across and took her hand. “I couldn’t. I want us to be friends. Do you think we could still have that?”

She looked down at their hands and then raised her eyes to his. “I think you’re wrong, Jim, and I’m going to prove it to you. You’ll see.”

“Merilyn—”

“No, don’t try to talk me out of it.” She gave him a smile. “Now, eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

He knew he’d get no further, not without making a scene and that was the last thing he wanted. He picked up his fork and speared a piece of broccoli, no longer really hungry. He knew this was going to be one of the longest meals of his life. Deciding against the broccoli, he picked up his glass of wine.

~~~~~

It didn’t take long for Spock to realize how fortuitous it was that he had ended up with this particular job. Sevilla’s appeared to be the meeting place of most of the men of the area, especially those presently unattached, though he did recognize the store owner who he distinctly remembered working next to a wife.

As he moved among them, bringing them drinks and food, he noticed that the looks thrown his way as he’d made his way through their town were largely gone now. Though not exactly one of them, he was no longer of somewhere else, either.

He entered the kitchen just as another plate was being placed on the counter between him and the cook. Eladio Montoya was a young man, no more than twenty if Spock was any judge, yet he had proven to have the kitchen well in hand, keeping up with Spock order for order.

“That’s for table six. Hold on a second and I’ll have the last plate ready.”

Spock nodded. The kitchen would close in ten minutes, so this should be his last order. Once the tables were cleared, Sevilla would handle the drinks while Spock finally took his place at the piano. His employer had warned him that, officially, the place did not close for four more hours. How busy the establishment remained would decide how long Spock would play.

“Okay, here you go,” Eladio remarked with a smile as he placed the order on the counter. “Once I get this place cleaned up, I’m out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I?”

“Unless Gilbert finds some fault in my work, I assume I will be returning tomorrow.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve never seen anyone wait tables as fast as you do.”

“It is not difficult,” Spock remarked as he placed the plates on his tray. He hefted the tray up unto one shoulder. “Though a certain steadfastness is required,” he added as he turned to go.

The boy’s laugher followed him out the door but was quickly drowned out by the cacophony of the dining room, a mixture of loud discussions and rather raucous laughter. Spock approached one of the tables and began placing the plates in front of the patrons, doing his best to ignore the conversation they were having. It had only taken a couple of odd looks from the people for him to realize that his place was to serve, not listen.

So it was that, though busy setting out their food, Spock was able to pick up on a laughter from across the room. He’d heard it only a few times, yet he would know it anywhere. He finished what he was doing then straightened and looked toward the bar.

It was Kirk. Even with his back to Spock, Spock recognized him immediately; the strong shoulders and solid build, the light brown hair that paled to a dark blond in places made the man hard to miss. Kirk was leaning against the bar, one foot resting on the railing near the floor. His head was turned toward the woman sitting on the barstool next to him. It was one of Gilbert’s ‘ladies,’ the one Spock Sevilla had introduced to him as Alice. She was young, not quite twenty and still had a certain innocence to her the other two women lacked.

Spock continued to cast glances at the man while he picked up the empty dishes and glasses from several of the tables. Perhaps he had been wrong about Kirk and Ms. Talbot. Kirk appeared too interested in the woman at his side, often laughing and touching her more than casually. When Spock returned from dropping the dish ware off in the kitchen, he saw that Kirk was now turned toward him. Alice had her arm draped across Kirk’s shoulders, while Kirk’s arm was snaked around the woman’s waist. He saw Spock and raised his glass in greeting.

Spock merely nodded and continued his work. He returned to the kitchen after a final pass through of the tables, placing his tray on the counter and removing his apron. Toward the back of the room, Eladio busily washed the last of the dishes. Spock placed his apron on one of the hooks just inside the door and returned to the dining room to take his place at the piano.

He opened the lid and pulled his bench closer. He cast his mind back, trying to recall some of the songs his mother had played. He finally brought his hands down onto the keys and began a series of lively dance tunes.

Hours would pass as he lost himself in the music, moving easily from one style to another. A lively air might be followed by a waltz that would flow into a ballad. Apparently his choices were well received because from time to time there would be a spate of applause, or someone would come up and place money in the jar Sevilla had insisted be placed on top of the piano.

Later in the evening, someone brought a lamp over for him as the house lights were dimmed. Conversations ebbed and then Spock could hear the slow glide of feet as several couples began to dance.

“You didn’t mention you played the piano.”

Spock looked up, though he continued to play. It was Kirk.

“You did not ask.”

Kirk gave him a look, as if unsure if Spock was serious or not. “I suppose I didn’t. I’m glad you found work.” He looked back, taking in their surroundings. “Though this isn’t quite what I imagined you doing.”

“Why not? It is honest work, I am being paid well and Gilbert seems to be a fair employer.”

“Oh, I’m sure he is. It’s just that you seem,” Kirk hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t know, out of place I guess.”

Spock found himself almost smiling. Where on this planet would he not be out of place?

Alice slid up against Kirk’s side. “Come on, sugar, you said we were going to dance.”

Kirk gave her an absent smile. “Play something slow, Mr. Spock. Something sweet and slow.”

“I will do my best.”

With that, Spock turned his full attention back to his playing, while Kirk walked Alice over to the open space where two other couples already swayed to the music and took her in his arms.

Spock could hear Kirk speaking, soft whispers to the woman that only Spock—and Alice, of course—could possibly hear. They were words of seduction, though Spock could not understand why Alice could not hear their blatant insincerity. A while later, when closing time came and Spock closed up the instrument, he turned to find that Kirk was gone.

He stood and pushed the bench in before walking over to join Sevilla at the bar. There were few patrons left, and even they were making their final farewells, slowly meandering out in twos and threes. Finally it was only the two of them.

Sevilla gave him a smile. “You did good tonight. Lots of people came up and told me they really liked the music.” He laughed. “Especially the men. Music like that, well, how can they not find romance with help like that?”

“Is that what they find?” Spock had heard the word before. Once, his mother had accused his father of being so. His father had declared her illogical, to which his mother had smiled and said she loved Sarek anyway. What he had seen tonight had not been anything like what he saw between his parents.

“If they are lucky, maybe they have found the beginnings of it. Even the ladies, I think, pretend that it’s there.”

“You speak of Alice and Yolanda and Sandra. That is not what I perceived them to have found.”

Sevilla tsked. “You are not a romantic, then.”

“You believe that Jim Kirk could love Alice?”

“No,” Sevilla shook his head pensively. “No, James Kirk is not for the likes of Alice. She knows this, no matter how she may pretend otherwise. We all know it. For awhile, we all thought he would marry Miss Talbot, but I don’t think so anymore.”

As odd as Spock felt speaking of Kirk, he found himself asking, “Why not?”

“James is looking for, well, I don’t know what he’s looking for; I’m not sure he knows. But whatever it is, it’s not here in Riverside. I am surprised that he is with Alice tonight. That is not something he usually does. He is not a man who need pay for his pleasure. But I suppose a man, even James Kirk, must find his release where he can.”

Spock could well imagine that Kirk would have no trouble finding someone to mate with. Even after so short of an acquaintance, Spock was aware of Kirk’s considerable charm and charisma. He turned and stared at the door through which Kirk would have gone. He felt a certain sympathy for Alice; to have all that charm focused on one could prove quite disconcerting.

But he had his own concerns. Tomorrow he would begin his search, seeking the information needed to solve the puzzle of this planet’s continued survival. With a nod to Sevilla, he left the bar and began the long walk back to his room.

~~~~~

Two days later Spock had had no luck in his quest for information. The people of Riverside were not at all interested in how their world had once been, or why it was no longer that way. He had brought up the subject with every one of Sevilla’s customers that he had any dealings with. All he had received for his troubles were odd looks and heads shaken over the use of his time.

Still, he persisted and finally a ray of hope presented itself.

Spock was serving two customers, balancing one plate as he placed the other before one of the men, when a loud noise at the entrance of the tavern drew his notice. Two men, both covered in dust and obviously not all that familiar with bathing, had just entered. They spoke quite loudly, even though it was only to each other, as they made their way over to one of the tables. Finishing what he was doing, Spock approached them.

“May I be of assistance?”

The men both looked at him in surprise.

“Who’re you?” one asked. He had removed his hat, and bright, yellow hair stuck up at every angle. Through the dirt on his face, his eyes sparkled a brilliant blue.

“I am Spock.”

“Where’s Eladio?” the other asked. This one’s hair was slightly darker, what Spock had recently learned was called ‘dishwater blond,’ but he shared the same arresting eyes.

“He is in the kitchen. Do you wish to speak to him?”

“No, no,” the second man answered, “just wondered, that’s all.” He stuck out his hand. “Name’s Potter. Doug Potter. This here’s my brother, Ernie.” He nodded toward the other man at the table.

Spock ignored the hand. “I am honored. Did you wish to place an order? I can bring menus if you wish.”

“Hell, no, we don’t need no menus.” This time Ernie responded. “Always have the same thing. Two number three specials and two glasses of beer.”

“Very well, I shall place your order. If you will excuse me.”

Spock retreated to the kitchen. Eladio wasn’t surprised by the order, remarking that he had been expecting it. Spock next went to the bar, where Sevilla was standing at his usual spot. Alice sat on one of the stools nearby, relaxing, one elbow resting on the bar’s surface.

“I will need two servings of beer,” Spock announced.

“Coming right up. I might as well warn you, those two will be keeping this up all night,” Sevilla remarked as he went to serve the beers.

“Keeping what up?”

Alice laughed. “The orders for drinks. Ernie and Doug work a mine west of town and they’re in here every Saturday, rain or shine, spending their earnings. First it’s dinner, then a running tab for beers.”

“They must become quite inebriated.”

Alice frowned. “What?”

Spock thought a moment. “Drunk. They must become quite drunk.”

“You could say. Hey, uh,” she touched his arm, “any chance your friend will be in tonight?”

“My friend?”

“Jim Kirk. You two seemed real friendly the other night. So I figured you might know when he’d be back.”

“We have only a passing acquaintance.”

“Oh.” With a crestfallen look, she swiveled her stool back around to the bar.

Just then Sevilla returned with the two beers and Spock carried them over to the Potters’ table.

“So, Spock, what brings you to Riverside?” Ernie asked as Spock placed the two mugs in front of them.

“I had hoped to find some evidence of the area’s past history. It is an interest of mine.”

Doug leaned forward and motioned Spock closer. “You should check out our place at night. We’ve seen some very strange things going on out there.” He nodded his head toward the north.

“That’s for sure,” Ernie added. “Strange lights low in the sky just after sundown. Spookiest thing you ever did see.”

“How often does this occur?” Spock was not aware of anything in the area that would account for such a phenomenon, but since he had had no other leads up to this point, he saw no reason not to investigate.

“Well nigh every night,” Ernie answered.

“Have you told others of this?”

Ernie gave him a shocked look. “Are you kidding? People around here, they don’t like to hear about stuff like that.”

“Then why have you seen fit to tell me?”

Ernie hesitated. “I suppose it’s because you look, well, different. You know? Not bad or nothing, just different. Like you don’t belong here. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he quickly added. “You just seem the sort that’d be interested.”

“Would it be possible for me to visit your campsite?”

“Sure, anytime.” Doug motioned for Spock’s pad of paper and pencil.

With scrawled and barely legible writing, Doug drew out a rough sketch of their place and directions on how to get there. Retrieving the items, Spock tore off the one page and neatly folded it before tucking it into his shirt pocket.

“I will see if your dinners are ready,” Spock said before walking away.

“Thanks, Spock,” Ernie called after him, “and bring two more beers while you’re at it.”



onto Chapter 3