Fic: "And After That, The Dark" (5/5) ST:XI, Scotty/Sulu, R
Lasties!
Thank you guys so much for putting up with this ramble-y, tangential, mostly gen fic. The slash pay-off has been relatively small, but you stuck with it, anyway :)
And After That, The Dark (5/5)
Author:
_beetle_
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Pairing: Scotty/Sulu, Scotty/OMC
Rating: R
Notes/Spoilers: Set a few years after the film. Major character death. Demons. Warthogs. Weirdness.
Summary: Summary . . . well, this was inspired by Tennyson's Crossing The Bar, a far better summary than anything I'll ever be capable of writing.
And just like that, the light winks out, leaving in its absence the dim mirkness in the cell, and shadowy, half-hidden knowledge in Scotty's brain.
They’re in the first level of an underground complex that extends downward for dozens of levels. It’s at least the size of ten major Terran cities. The warthog-things-the Ennorgn-guarding them aren't many, but then, they weren't meant to be. At least not this close to the surface. The ones that came upon the six aliens wandering around the uppermost caves think them demon invaders from Hell Above, bringing with them eternal death.
“Well, they weren’t totally wrong,” Sulu notes wryly from behind the Ennorgn guard, and Scotty’s arm rises seemingly of its own accord. His hand strikes out, fluidly and snake-quick, just in time to catch the guard in the midst of turning toward him.
One sharp, accurate strike drives its piggish nose up into its brain.
The guard gurgles wetly, and topples backward out the door, sliding down the wall outside the cell, its tiny eyes gone wide with surprise. Then it’s dead, and of no further concern. Sulu steps right over it to enter their cell and look around like he’s never seen it before.
I canna believe I did that, Scotty thinks with more wonderment than horror, looking at his hand. It seems as if the hand should be throbbing and aching, but it doesn’t. In fact, Scotty doesn’t feel much of anything at the moment, like he’s a passenger in his own body, along for the ride.
“You aren’t totally wrong,” Sulu tells him in a slightly grimmer tone. “Listen, I need you to not freak out about this. Not until you’re safe. You can’t fight yourself and them at the same time, so do yourself a favor and stay calm no matter what, okay?”
“I-“ Scotty starts to stammer, but Sulu cuts him off with a glance.
“Are we on the same page, soldier?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. He again steps over the dead Ennorgn’s body and out of their cell. After a moment of hesitation, Scotty does the same.
Without, is a smallish antechamber that’s thankfully empty. The chamber, like their cell, is also dimly lit, and by no obvious light source. In one corner there’s an exit, and in the opposite, several low stone risers that seem to extend naturally from the rocky floor. The largest riser is surrounded by three smaller ones, and on it lay several phasers and comm-badges, scraps of torn, bloody clothing, and two damaged tricorders.
Scotty feels a keen surge of grief that damn near sucks the energy out of him. He suddenly wants, very badly, to sit down and weep at the unfairness of it all.
“Mourning is a luxury you can’t afford, right now,” Sulu says with almost chilly detachment. He’s staring at the torn bits of clothing, shredded black, red, blue, and gold, with empty, distant eyes. “Mourn for them now, and you might as well mourn for yourself, because you’ll die in here, too.”
“But-“
“They’re beyond helping, now, but you’re not, Scotty. Like I said, you can’t fight them and fight yourself at the same time. You’ve already burned up too much of your energy talking. We need to act.”
“Pardon me, but I’m nae robot! I need a wee moment to adjust!” Scotty wipes his eyes, but not with the hand that’d killed the guard.
“I’m sorry, but there’s no time for that, either.” Sulu finally looks at him, and smiles a little, as grim as his voice. "Just trust me, and it'll be alright. I promise."
"Not for the others, it willnae . . . Lord above, we've got to find their poor bodies, an'-"
"'And,' what?" Sulu laughs ruefully. "Carry them out? Well, that shouldn't be too hard, since there's nothing left but ashes at the bottom of cesspit." Scotty's mouth drops open in horror, and Sulu immediately looks contrite. "Sorry, I'm . . . look, they think we're demons. They burned the bodies to keep demonic spirits from infecting them with evil. The only reason you haven’t been taken deeper into their city is that they’re waiting for orders from their High Marshal. If they contaminated their city with a live demon, it’d be their heads. Literally. So, luck is on our side; let’s not waste it.”
Sighing, Scotty nods his agreement, pushing thoughts of his comrades out of his mind. It's not easy, and he can feel guilt waiting patiently for him, should he make it out of this awful place alive. Can feel its teeth and hooks digging deep and settling in for the long haul.
The badges are the first things he retrieves, and they go in his pocket, along with the third phaser and tricorders. The other two phasers, set to KILL, he holds in each hand like an old-fashioned gunslinger.
“Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers,” Sulu mutters, rolling his eyes, and Scotty rolls his own.
“I suppose. But phasers in the close confines of the caves seems a mad idea, doesnae?”
“Now you’re thinkin’, and you’re absolutely right.” Sulu walks back to the cell and the dead guard on noiseless feet. He hunkers down without stepping into the growing pool of blood spreading from around the guard’s head. He motions Scotty closer.
Another brief hesitation and Scotty does, also kneeling over the rank, inert body. But for a belt and some sort of shoulder protectors, the guard is naked; though thankfully his blood-speckled fur seems to provide more than adequate coverage.
“Get his belt, then roll him over,” Sulu orders, his hands twitching as if he’d rather be doing it himself, but Scotty’s already unbuckled the belt, and with a grunt and a heave he shifts the heavy body onto its side. The pool of blood underneath it starts to spread faster.
“Mary an’ Joseph,” Scotty moans unhappily, but Sulu’s fierce eyes steady him once more. “What now?”
But that’s already become apparent, as the “belt” turns out to be a scabbard, and in it is a scimitar.
“Phasers for show, swords for a pro, buddy. Strap on.” Sulu murmurs, and Scotty tugs the other end of the belt free of the body. This time, there’s no hesitation as he buckles the thing on like he’s done it a thousand times before. He draws the huge, sharp scimitar with a feeling of fierce anticipation. Sulu grins crookedly. “Much better: a big, fuck-off shiny knife that could skin a crocodile. Or a warthog.”
“I dinna know what’s more disturbing: this place or you.” One showy, swash-buckle of a flourish and Scotty reluctantly scabbards the thing. Then he’s leading the way back to the risers on feet as quiet as Sulu’s. He takes the scraps of clothing and shoves them into already bulging pockets, as well. He may not be able to bring their bodies home, but this'll have to do.
“What’re they likely to do to us if they catch us?” he whispers, creeping to the entryway and peering around the edge: nothing but murky light, still shadows, and a short hallway that curves sharply to the left.
“They won’t.”
Scotty turns to Sulu with his best level with me face on. “But what if they do?”
When Sulu finally says something, it’s nothing like an answer to the question Scotty posed, and his face is closed off. “There’re eleven guards left between here and the exit, and it’s gonna get bloody. But it’ll be their blood, not yours, I prom-”
There’s a surprised oink! and the pounding of feet from the hall behind him, and Scotty’s body turns immediately, ducking as it does-drawing the scimitar as it does. It flashes upward and there’s a spray of red.
That strange, fierce joy rips through Scotty again like an orgasm, and Sulu just stands there, staring down at the dead, headless Ennorgn.
“Ten, now.” he steps over this body, too, and out the antechamber.
Scotty kneels to wipe the scimitar clean on the Ennorn’s snowy fur then scabbards it once more. He takes one glance back at the open cell then he hurries after Sulu.
*
Ten, like Eleven, dies gurgling on his own blood, having come round that sharp left turn squeaking and oinking after his comrades.
Nine is in a small side-chamber with several stone risers that serve as beds. His weapons are on the floor within easy reach, but his snores are loud.
Scotty creeps past the room quietly, and Nine lives to snore another day.
Eight and Seven come close to death and walk obliviously past it, as Scotty crouches in a deep recess, his eyes meeting Sulu’s.
“They’re the ones that got me,” Sulu says when the guards are well past. He looks more miserable than anyone Scotty’s ever seen, save his father after his mother died. “They got the jump on us, and before I could stop them, Pete was dead. Then I-“
A loud bellow rises from the cell and antechamber. Eight and Seven have discovered their mates, and soon, they’ll come a-pounding back down the corridor, ready for war.
“Follow me. Quickly!” Sulu’s up and running before the bellow dies down, and Scotty’s on his heels, hoping that the man at least has some idea where they’re going. He seems to take turns at random, but Scotty has the sense that they’re moving generally upward.
Six and Five are waiting for them, thanks to Eight and Seven’s yelling. They charge past Sulu, heading straight for Scotty, who takes a few loping strides toward them, them drops to his knees at the last second, slashing upward with the scimitar, disemboweling Six, but barely scratching Five, who dodges to the side.
Scotty’s on his feet and out of the way just in time. Six takes the killing blow that’d been meant for him, and while Five is trying to free his scimitar from Six’s torso, Scotty runs him through with one quick jab to the stomach.
Bloody hell! he thinks, then he’s on his feet and running again, leaving Five to holler out the last of his life.
“Shoulda decapitated him. He can’t scream without vocal cords,” Sulu chides, keeping pace and not even remotely out of breath. Ahead is another sharp turn that slopes noticeably upward.
“Well, since you’re so bloody clever, why don’t you grab a sword and help ou-“
“Duck!”
Scotty does, and just misses being decapitated, himself, as he rounds the turn. When Four’s sword rebounds back after hitting the rocky wall, Scotty chops his arm off, and before the guard can do more than squeeee, Scotty’s pushed him over and driven the tip of the scimitar through his throat.
“Happy, now?” he pants, as the Ennorgn dies, blood foaming and frothing past tusks and teeth. Sulu grins rather ghoulishly.
“Ecstatic. Let’s go.”
Three sees them before they see him-simply sees them, and goes wee-wee-weeee down a side shaft, all clatter and commotion. It's almost funny, until Scotty remembers that the creechy, fremmit bastard had a hand in the deaths of his comrades.
A few more twists and turns reveal light, watery and dim, but natural. That animal stink has even begun to thin out, in favor of dust and grass.
“Not far, now,” Sulu says needlessly, pulling ahead of Scotty. He disappears around a right turn, but only for a moment. He immediately comes running back, his eyes wide. “Okay: two left, and they’re ready for you. They’re bigger, and better trained than those assholes back there. They’re the Outer Guard, and it’s their job to keep the demons out.”
“You mean us,” Scotty whispers, and Sulu nods.
“They already failed once. They don’t mean to do it twice. They-“
There’s a bellow behind them, not more than four or five turns back.
“Phasers!”
“Are ye mad?” Scotty demands, but he’s already scabbarded the scimitar and drawn two of the phasers. “We’ll bring this entire place down around our ears!”
“Only if you miss,” Sulu says, shrugging jerkily. “It’s a risk you have to take. You’re dead anyway if they catch you.”
Another bellow, this one much closer. “You make a good point.”
“Ah, fuck it, just go in fast and low,” Sulu advises quietly. “Make for the exit, and don’t stop to see if they’ve been hit-the falling rocks oughta keep them busy. Just keep firing and running.”
"Actually, I've got a better idea." Scotty stalks forward till he reaches the turn, pauses, then readjusts the phasers’ settings. Then he strolls slowly around the corner, grinning.
“-fuck’re you doing?!” Sulu’s voice hisses from right behind him. But Scotty just keeps strolling.
“You trust me, now,” Scotty hisses back between clenched teeth.
The man was right when he said these final guards would be bigger. They’ve got at least a head on the others, and there’s an air about them of coiled readiness. Their tusks look sharper, and their scimitars are far more elaborate.
Behind them is a wide entrance, and beyond . . . cloudy moonlight winking off of white gravel.
The guards start forward and Scotty holds up a phaser. Points it not at them, but at the wall to their right and fires.
Rock heats up red before splintering, and sending molten shards flying. The Outer Guards block their faces reflexively, and in that moment Scotty could kill them easily, but instead he points the phasers, both of them, at the ceiling of the cave.
He’s no xeno-anthropologist, but even he can see the penny behind their tiny eyes drop.
“That’s right, lads, I’ll bring this whole place down on our heads if ye dinna stand aside and let us demons be on our way.” Keeping his phasers pointed at the ceiling the whole time, he walks calmly onward, sweat running down his face and neck, every nerve in his body screaming at him to run, run, run. But he knows once he does, once he shows fear, they'll be on him like a pack of wild boars.
When he draws abreast of One and Two, they part like the Red Sea, keeping well away from him, clearly afraid of coming in contact with him. He keeps going slowly, but evenly toward the entrance, keeping his phasers pointed up as he passes the Outer Guards. A few steps beyond them is the rocky upslope leading to the outside, and a steepish hill that's easily the most beautiful sight Scotty's ever seen.
“I canna believe we made it,” he murmurs, still grinning, still strolling. "After you, Hikaru."
“After me? You ass-run!” Sulu commands, darting past Scotty, who follows quickly just as there's a clatter of colliding bodies right behind him.
That would be Seven, Eight, and Nine colliding with One and Two. Saints preserve, he thinks as they race out into the night, into bright moons-light. They run down the hill that leads to the cave, and up another low crest. They run till Scotty, at least, is out of breath and holding the stitch in his side.
With three hills between them and the entrance of the cave, Scotty collapses, and for awhile, he knows nothing but peaceful darkness.
*
"Rise and shine, Sleepy Joe."
And Scotty does so, bolting upright, heart racing, pulse pounding, head spinning. At first he thinks he's had the worst dream in the history of mankind, till he gets a good look at Sulu’s bruised face, and their rocky, dusty surroundings.
He groans. "Wasnae a dream, then."
"Nope." Sulu laughs mirthlessly. "I wish it was, but it's not."
Scotty shakes his head, but that does nothing to help the spinning. "How long was I out for?"
Sulu shrugs. "Dunno. The moons are lower in the sky than they were. They're almost setting, now." He waves a hand at the night sky. The clouds have cleared off just enough to make out the planet's two greyish moons, one looming larger than the other, and washing out the stars with it's dingy light.
Sulu's watching him expectantly, all dark-eyed intensity. There's a smudge of dirt on his chin, and before he's thought about it, Scotty reaching out to wipe it off. Sulu turns his face away, and Scotty sighs. Some things ne'er change. "So, what next?"
Without looking at him, Sulu responds by pointing at a distant, rocky hill. "If you wait up there, you should be high enough they'll be able to home in on your frequency and come get you."
Ignoring the bolt of hurt Sulu’s avoidance caused, Scotty gets laboriously to his feet. Sulu does likewise, only he manages to make it look like it's the easiest thing in the world. "What d'ye mean you? It's us they're comin’ for," Scotty says, the world spinning way more than it ought. His skull feels as if it's about to crack open and his body is one mass of aches and pains. But he's alive. They're alive, and that's all that matters.
Sulu shakes his head once. "I'm sorry, Scotty."
"What? Sorry? There's naught to be sorry for, man, we're home-free!" Previous hurt, and even his own exhaustion is forgotten as he realizes they’re going to be okay. It’s over. He reaches out to clap Sulu's shoulder and gets evaded again. But even that doesn't phase him. “Like you said, we’re gonna be a'right.”
Sulu shakes his head again, still not looking at Scotty. "I can hear the call, but it's so faint . . . if I don't go soon, I'll lose my way. Keep fading and fading till I’m nothing."
"What’re ye talkin’-lose your way to where?" Scotty demands, suddenly desperate for no reason he can pinpoint. And when Sulu finally looks at him-reluctantly, it seems-he's no longer bruised or bloodied; like magic, he’s healed and smiling, his dark eyes squinting and bemused, as if he can barely see. "Saints preserve me-how-?"
"I just wanted to make sure you got away okay . . . that you were safe. And I did. And you are."
"We are," Scotty amends, ignoring the tickle in the back of his brain, the chill that goes racing up his spine and down again. "Please, just . . . come with me and I promise, it'll be a'right."
Sulu sighs wistfully. "I can't. I really wish I could. It's not every day the Chief Engineer offers to take me somewhere."
"Damn right isnae. So stop talkin’ nonsense." Scotty means to tug Sulu with him to the hill, or at least just toward him, and it's as if his hands slip right through Sulu's, and he over-balances. But he catches himself, and gapes at Sulu. The tickle can't be ignored any longer; the numbers are adding up to something that Scotty thinks he recognizes, as much as he'd rather not. "What-what are ye?"
Sulu's eyes tick to the sky behind Scotty's left shoulder, and his smile turns bitter.
"You should go," he says softly, and before Scotty can say aught else, Sulu's stepped close again, close enough to kiss, only where their lips should meet, there's only intense, localized coldness. Shocked, Scotty inhales and gets the barest, ghostly taste of salt, mist, and maybe blood.
Sulu makes a strange, yearning sound low in his throat and where there'd been only coldness, the slightest trace of warmth grows. It almost feels like an actual kiss, but . . . it's more of an inhalation. Scotty feels as if the very breath is being stolen from his lungs, only he's still breathing just fine. But his head is buzzing, and his limbs are trembling like they did when he first woke up in Sulu's arms, pain locked tight around his head like a vice.
Alarmed, he clutches at Sulu's arms to keep from collapsing even as he tries to summon the willpower and strength to pull away. But there's nothing to be clutched at and Scotty overbalances again, unable to catch himself this time as he falls through the coldness that is the shade of his friend. The fall jars his entire exhausted being and he moans, rolling onto his back, gasping and coughing. It feels like an age that he lay there, staring up at the clouded sky and trying to catch his breath.
Then Sulu leans over him, watching him intently with dark, dark eyes, like the gulf between galaxies.
“You taste like life," he whispers, some strange emotion crossing his face. It's gone in an instant, and he's leaning down for another almost-kiss. This time, Scotty knows, there'll be no falling, no breaking away, no stopping. Just an icy embrace, as the lips pressing his own grow warmer and realer. . . .
"Sulu-Hikaru, don’t," he chokes out, wracking like a sick old man, all a-tremble as that terrible coldness seems to envelop him once more.
Hikaru moves nearer, his eyes wide open and hungry, like those of a starving man.
With Herculean effort born of sheer desperation, Scotty scrambles backwards before Sulu's lips can meet his own, struggles to his feet, and goes staggering in the direction of the hill. At first he could swear he feels Hikaru right on his heels, feels that chill breath on the back of his neck, but that only spurs him on and away from the arms that’re waiting for him.
Halfway up the steep hill, Scotty stumbles and falls to the ground, his head spinning wildly. Then a sudden, cool breeze sweeps across him and he's up and running again. For his life. The next time he falls, he crawls the rest of the way up the hill, and doesn’t look back till he reaches the top. When he does, he sees Hikaru standing exactly where he’d been left, watching him silently. He looks small and sad . . . and so very alone.
Scotty wants nothing more, for a moment anyway, than to go back. To offer what little comfort and absolution he can. But he knows in his heart that there’s no comfort or absolution for the dead. There’s only whatever waits for them in the hereafter, and living are left to mourn for those who’ve moved on, and for themselves,
Mourn Scotty will. When the heartbreak that’s waiting for him on the other side of this finally catches up to him, he will mourn greatly for the friendship they’d had, and what they could’ve had, if only in Scotty’s silly dreams.
For now, he simply raises a hand-the Killing Hand, as he’ll come to think of it ever after-and waves in acknowledgement and thanks.
And farewell.
After several long minutes, Hikaru raises a hand as well and mouths something Scotty can’t make out. Then a sudden flash of light illuminates the entire area, instantaneously so bright, it whites out the world.
When dimness settles once more, Hikaru’s gone, like mist dispersed by a sudden shaft of sunlight and Scotty’s head is spinning worse than ever.
Nevertheless, he sits there watchfully, unwilling to take his tired eyes off the last place he saw Hikaru, till the comm-badges in his pockets go haywire and the distant whine of an approaching shuttle shakes him from his vigil.
End
And in other news . . . I'M IN! Just gotta figure out how I'm gonna pay for what financial aid doesn't cover, and whether I'll be able to start classes on time. The school still needs a copy of my GED diploma and transcript, but that's gonna be at least another month in coming, since I can't find my copy and had to write to NYSED to get a copy.
I hope my liberal arts credits transfer. I definitely don't need the lit classes.
I'm so excited. Another frabjous day-callou, callay!
Thank you guys so much for putting up with this ramble-y, tangential, mostly gen fic. The slash pay-off has been relatively small, but you stuck with it, anyway :)
And After That, The Dark (5/5)
Author:
_beetle_
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Pairing: Scotty/Sulu, Scotty/OMC
Rating: R
Notes/Spoilers: Set a few years after the film. Major character death. Demons. Warthogs. Weirdness.
Summary: Summary . . . well, this was inspired by Tennyson's Crossing The Bar, a far better summary than anything I'll ever be capable of writing.
And just like that, the light winks out, leaving in its absence the dim mirkness in the cell, and shadowy, half-hidden knowledge in Scotty's brain.
They’re in the first level of an underground complex that extends downward for dozens of levels. It’s at least the size of ten major Terran cities. The warthog-things-the Ennorgn-guarding them aren't many, but then, they weren't meant to be. At least not this close to the surface. The ones that came upon the six aliens wandering around the uppermost caves think them demon invaders from Hell Above, bringing with them eternal death.
“Well, they weren’t totally wrong,” Sulu notes wryly from behind the Ennorgn guard, and Scotty’s arm rises seemingly of its own accord. His hand strikes out, fluidly and snake-quick, just in time to catch the guard in the midst of turning toward him.
One sharp, accurate strike drives its piggish nose up into its brain.
The guard gurgles wetly, and topples backward out the door, sliding down the wall outside the cell, its tiny eyes gone wide with surprise. Then it’s dead, and of no further concern. Sulu steps right over it to enter their cell and look around like he’s never seen it before.
I canna believe I did that, Scotty thinks with more wonderment than horror, looking at his hand. It seems as if the hand should be throbbing and aching, but it doesn’t. In fact, Scotty doesn’t feel much of anything at the moment, like he’s a passenger in his own body, along for the ride.
“You aren’t totally wrong,” Sulu tells him in a slightly grimmer tone. “Listen, I need you to not freak out about this. Not until you’re safe. You can’t fight yourself and them at the same time, so do yourself a favor and stay calm no matter what, okay?”
“I-“ Scotty starts to stammer, but Sulu cuts him off with a glance.
“Are we on the same page, soldier?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. He again steps over the dead Ennorgn’s body and out of their cell. After a moment of hesitation, Scotty does the same.
Without, is a smallish antechamber that’s thankfully empty. The chamber, like their cell, is also dimly lit, and by no obvious light source. In one corner there’s an exit, and in the opposite, several low stone risers that seem to extend naturally from the rocky floor. The largest riser is surrounded by three smaller ones, and on it lay several phasers and comm-badges, scraps of torn, bloody clothing, and two damaged tricorders.
Scotty feels a keen surge of grief that damn near sucks the energy out of him. He suddenly wants, very badly, to sit down and weep at the unfairness of it all.
“Mourning is a luxury you can’t afford, right now,” Sulu says with almost chilly detachment. He’s staring at the torn bits of clothing, shredded black, red, blue, and gold, with empty, distant eyes. “Mourn for them now, and you might as well mourn for yourself, because you’ll die in here, too.”
“But-“
“They’re beyond helping, now, but you’re not, Scotty. Like I said, you can’t fight them and fight yourself at the same time. You’ve already burned up too much of your energy talking. We need to act.”
“Pardon me, but I’m nae robot! I need a wee moment to adjust!” Scotty wipes his eyes, but not with the hand that’d killed the guard.
“I’m sorry, but there’s no time for that, either.” Sulu finally looks at him, and smiles a little, as grim as his voice. "Just trust me, and it'll be alright. I promise."
"Not for the others, it willnae . . . Lord above, we've got to find their poor bodies, an'-"
"'And,' what?" Sulu laughs ruefully. "Carry them out? Well, that shouldn't be too hard, since there's nothing left but ashes at the bottom of cesspit." Scotty's mouth drops open in horror, and Sulu immediately looks contrite. "Sorry, I'm . . . look, they think we're demons. They burned the bodies to keep demonic spirits from infecting them with evil. The only reason you haven’t been taken deeper into their city is that they’re waiting for orders from their High Marshal. If they contaminated their city with a live demon, it’d be their heads. Literally. So, luck is on our side; let’s not waste it.”
Sighing, Scotty nods his agreement, pushing thoughts of his comrades out of his mind. It's not easy, and he can feel guilt waiting patiently for him, should he make it out of this awful place alive. Can feel its teeth and hooks digging deep and settling in for the long haul.
The badges are the first things he retrieves, and they go in his pocket, along with the third phaser and tricorders. The other two phasers, set to KILL, he holds in each hand like an old-fashioned gunslinger.
“Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers,” Sulu mutters, rolling his eyes, and Scotty rolls his own.
“I suppose. But phasers in the close confines of the caves seems a mad idea, doesnae?”
“Now you’re thinkin’, and you’re absolutely right.” Sulu walks back to the cell and the dead guard on noiseless feet. He hunkers down without stepping into the growing pool of blood spreading from around the guard’s head. He motions Scotty closer.
Another brief hesitation and Scotty does, also kneeling over the rank, inert body. But for a belt and some sort of shoulder protectors, the guard is naked; though thankfully his blood-speckled fur seems to provide more than adequate coverage.
“Get his belt, then roll him over,” Sulu orders, his hands twitching as if he’d rather be doing it himself, but Scotty’s already unbuckled the belt, and with a grunt and a heave he shifts the heavy body onto its side. The pool of blood underneath it starts to spread faster.
“Mary an’ Joseph,” Scotty moans unhappily, but Sulu’s fierce eyes steady him once more. “What now?”
But that’s already become apparent, as the “belt” turns out to be a scabbard, and in it is a scimitar.
“Phasers for show, swords for a pro, buddy. Strap on.” Sulu murmurs, and Scotty tugs the other end of the belt free of the body. This time, there’s no hesitation as he buckles the thing on like he’s done it a thousand times before. He draws the huge, sharp scimitar with a feeling of fierce anticipation. Sulu grins crookedly. “Much better: a big, fuck-off shiny knife that could skin a crocodile. Or a warthog.”
“I dinna know what’s more disturbing: this place or you.” One showy, swash-buckle of a flourish and Scotty reluctantly scabbards the thing. Then he’s leading the way back to the risers on feet as quiet as Sulu’s. He takes the scraps of clothing and shoves them into already bulging pockets, as well. He may not be able to bring their bodies home, but this'll have to do.
“What’re they likely to do to us if they catch us?” he whispers, creeping to the entryway and peering around the edge: nothing but murky light, still shadows, and a short hallway that curves sharply to the left.
“They won’t.”
Scotty turns to Sulu with his best level with me face on. “But what if they do?”
When Sulu finally says something, it’s nothing like an answer to the question Scotty posed, and his face is closed off. “There’re eleven guards left between here and the exit, and it’s gonna get bloody. But it’ll be their blood, not yours, I prom-”
There’s a surprised oink! and the pounding of feet from the hall behind him, and Scotty’s body turns immediately, ducking as it does-drawing the scimitar as it does. It flashes upward and there’s a spray of red.
That strange, fierce joy rips through Scotty again like an orgasm, and Sulu just stands there, staring down at the dead, headless Ennorgn.
“Ten, now.” he steps over this body, too, and out the antechamber.
Scotty kneels to wipe the scimitar clean on the Ennorn’s snowy fur then scabbards it once more. He takes one glance back at the open cell then he hurries after Sulu.
*
Ten, like Eleven, dies gurgling on his own blood, having come round that sharp left turn squeaking and oinking after his comrades.
Nine is in a small side-chamber with several stone risers that serve as beds. His weapons are on the floor within easy reach, but his snores are loud.
Scotty creeps past the room quietly, and Nine lives to snore another day.
Eight and Seven come close to death and walk obliviously past it, as Scotty crouches in a deep recess, his eyes meeting Sulu’s.
“They’re the ones that got me,” Sulu says when the guards are well past. He looks more miserable than anyone Scotty’s ever seen, save his father after his mother died. “They got the jump on us, and before I could stop them, Pete was dead. Then I-“
A loud bellow rises from the cell and antechamber. Eight and Seven have discovered their mates, and soon, they’ll come a-pounding back down the corridor, ready for war.
“Follow me. Quickly!” Sulu’s up and running before the bellow dies down, and Scotty’s on his heels, hoping that the man at least has some idea where they’re going. He seems to take turns at random, but Scotty has the sense that they’re moving generally upward.
Six and Five are waiting for them, thanks to Eight and Seven’s yelling. They charge past Sulu, heading straight for Scotty, who takes a few loping strides toward them, them drops to his knees at the last second, slashing upward with the scimitar, disemboweling Six, but barely scratching Five, who dodges to the side.
Scotty’s on his feet and out of the way just in time. Six takes the killing blow that’d been meant for him, and while Five is trying to free his scimitar from Six’s torso, Scotty runs him through with one quick jab to the stomach.
Bloody hell! he thinks, then he’s on his feet and running again, leaving Five to holler out the last of his life.
“Shoulda decapitated him. He can’t scream without vocal cords,” Sulu chides, keeping pace and not even remotely out of breath. Ahead is another sharp turn that slopes noticeably upward.
“Well, since you’re so bloody clever, why don’t you grab a sword and help ou-“
“Duck!”
Scotty does, and just misses being decapitated, himself, as he rounds the turn. When Four’s sword rebounds back after hitting the rocky wall, Scotty chops his arm off, and before the guard can do more than squeeee, Scotty’s pushed him over and driven the tip of the scimitar through his throat.
“Happy, now?” he pants, as the Ennorgn dies, blood foaming and frothing past tusks and teeth. Sulu grins rather ghoulishly.
“Ecstatic. Let’s go.”
Three sees them before they see him-simply sees them, and goes wee-wee-weeee down a side shaft, all clatter and commotion. It's almost funny, until Scotty remembers that the creechy, fremmit bastard had a hand in the deaths of his comrades.
A few more twists and turns reveal light, watery and dim, but natural. That animal stink has even begun to thin out, in favor of dust and grass.
“Not far, now,” Sulu says needlessly, pulling ahead of Scotty. He disappears around a right turn, but only for a moment. He immediately comes running back, his eyes wide. “Okay: two left, and they’re ready for you. They’re bigger, and better trained than those assholes back there. They’re the Outer Guard, and it’s their job to keep the demons out.”
“You mean us,” Scotty whispers, and Sulu nods.
“They already failed once. They don’t mean to do it twice. They-“
There’s a bellow behind them, not more than four or five turns back.
“Phasers!”
“Are ye mad?” Scotty demands, but he’s already scabbarded the scimitar and drawn two of the phasers. “We’ll bring this entire place down around our ears!”
“Only if you miss,” Sulu says, shrugging jerkily. “It’s a risk you have to take. You’re dead anyway if they catch you.”
Another bellow, this one much closer. “You make a good point.”
“Ah, fuck it, just go in fast and low,” Sulu advises quietly. “Make for the exit, and don’t stop to see if they’ve been hit-the falling rocks oughta keep them busy. Just keep firing and running.”
"Actually, I've got a better idea." Scotty stalks forward till he reaches the turn, pauses, then readjusts the phasers’ settings. Then he strolls slowly around the corner, grinning.
“-fuck’re you doing?!” Sulu’s voice hisses from right behind him. But Scotty just keeps strolling.
“You trust me, now,” Scotty hisses back between clenched teeth.
The man was right when he said these final guards would be bigger. They’ve got at least a head on the others, and there’s an air about them of coiled readiness. Their tusks look sharper, and their scimitars are far more elaborate.
Behind them is a wide entrance, and beyond . . . cloudy moonlight winking off of white gravel.
The guards start forward and Scotty holds up a phaser. Points it not at them, but at the wall to their right and fires.
Rock heats up red before splintering, and sending molten shards flying. The Outer Guards block their faces reflexively, and in that moment Scotty could kill them easily, but instead he points the phasers, both of them, at the ceiling of the cave.
He’s no xeno-anthropologist, but even he can see the penny behind their tiny eyes drop.
“That’s right, lads, I’ll bring this whole place down on our heads if ye dinna stand aside and let us demons be on our way.” Keeping his phasers pointed at the ceiling the whole time, he walks calmly onward, sweat running down his face and neck, every nerve in his body screaming at him to run, run, run. But he knows once he does, once he shows fear, they'll be on him like a pack of wild boars.
When he draws abreast of One and Two, they part like the Red Sea, keeping well away from him, clearly afraid of coming in contact with him. He keeps going slowly, but evenly toward the entrance, keeping his phasers pointed up as he passes the Outer Guards. A few steps beyond them is the rocky upslope leading to the outside, and a steepish hill that's easily the most beautiful sight Scotty's ever seen.
“I canna believe we made it,” he murmurs, still grinning, still strolling. "After you, Hikaru."
“After me? You ass-run!” Sulu commands, darting past Scotty, who follows quickly just as there's a clatter of colliding bodies right behind him.
That would be Seven, Eight, and Nine colliding with One and Two. Saints preserve, he thinks as they race out into the night, into bright moons-light. They run down the hill that leads to the cave, and up another low crest. They run till Scotty, at least, is out of breath and holding the stitch in his side.
With three hills between them and the entrance of the cave, Scotty collapses, and for awhile, he knows nothing but peaceful darkness.
*
"Rise and shine, Sleepy Joe."
And Scotty does so, bolting upright, heart racing, pulse pounding, head spinning. At first he thinks he's had the worst dream in the history of mankind, till he gets a good look at Sulu’s bruised face, and their rocky, dusty surroundings.
He groans. "Wasnae a dream, then."
"Nope." Sulu laughs mirthlessly. "I wish it was, but it's not."
Scotty shakes his head, but that does nothing to help the spinning. "How long was I out for?"
Sulu shrugs. "Dunno. The moons are lower in the sky than they were. They're almost setting, now." He waves a hand at the night sky. The clouds have cleared off just enough to make out the planet's two greyish moons, one looming larger than the other, and washing out the stars with it's dingy light.
Sulu's watching him expectantly, all dark-eyed intensity. There's a smudge of dirt on his chin, and before he's thought about it, Scotty reaching out to wipe it off. Sulu turns his face away, and Scotty sighs. Some things ne'er change. "So, what next?"
Without looking at him, Sulu responds by pointing at a distant, rocky hill. "If you wait up there, you should be high enough they'll be able to home in on your frequency and come get you."
Ignoring the bolt of hurt Sulu’s avoidance caused, Scotty gets laboriously to his feet. Sulu does likewise, only he manages to make it look like it's the easiest thing in the world. "What d'ye mean you? It's us they're comin’ for," Scotty says, the world spinning way more than it ought. His skull feels as if it's about to crack open and his body is one mass of aches and pains. But he's alive. They're alive, and that's all that matters.
Sulu shakes his head once. "I'm sorry, Scotty."
"What? Sorry? There's naught to be sorry for, man, we're home-free!" Previous hurt, and even his own exhaustion is forgotten as he realizes they’re going to be okay. It’s over. He reaches out to clap Sulu's shoulder and gets evaded again. But even that doesn't phase him. “Like you said, we’re gonna be a'right.”
Sulu shakes his head again, still not looking at Scotty. "I can hear the call, but it's so faint . . . if I don't go soon, I'll lose my way. Keep fading and fading till I’m nothing."
"What’re ye talkin’-lose your way to where?" Scotty demands, suddenly desperate for no reason he can pinpoint. And when Sulu finally looks at him-reluctantly, it seems-he's no longer bruised or bloodied; like magic, he’s healed and smiling, his dark eyes squinting and bemused, as if he can barely see. "Saints preserve me-how-?"
"I just wanted to make sure you got away okay . . . that you were safe. And I did. And you are."
"We are," Scotty amends, ignoring the tickle in the back of his brain, the chill that goes racing up his spine and down again. "Please, just . . . come with me and I promise, it'll be a'right."
Sulu sighs wistfully. "I can't. I really wish I could. It's not every day the Chief Engineer offers to take me somewhere."
"Damn right isnae. So stop talkin’ nonsense." Scotty means to tug Sulu with him to the hill, or at least just toward him, and it's as if his hands slip right through Sulu's, and he over-balances. But he catches himself, and gapes at Sulu. The tickle can't be ignored any longer; the numbers are adding up to something that Scotty thinks he recognizes, as much as he'd rather not. "What-what are ye?"
Sulu's eyes tick to the sky behind Scotty's left shoulder, and his smile turns bitter.
"You should go," he says softly, and before Scotty can say aught else, Sulu's stepped close again, close enough to kiss, only where their lips should meet, there's only intense, localized coldness. Shocked, Scotty inhales and gets the barest, ghostly taste of salt, mist, and maybe blood.
Sulu makes a strange, yearning sound low in his throat and where there'd been only coldness, the slightest trace of warmth grows. It almost feels like an actual kiss, but . . . it's more of an inhalation. Scotty feels as if the very breath is being stolen from his lungs, only he's still breathing just fine. But his head is buzzing, and his limbs are trembling like they did when he first woke up in Sulu's arms, pain locked tight around his head like a vice.
Alarmed, he clutches at Sulu's arms to keep from collapsing even as he tries to summon the willpower and strength to pull away. But there's nothing to be clutched at and Scotty overbalances again, unable to catch himself this time as he falls through the coldness that is the shade of his friend. The fall jars his entire exhausted being and he moans, rolling onto his back, gasping and coughing. It feels like an age that he lay there, staring up at the clouded sky and trying to catch his breath.
Then Sulu leans over him, watching him intently with dark, dark eyes, like the gulf between galaxies.
“You taste like life," he whispers, some strange emotion crossing his face. It's gone in an instant, and he's leaning down for another almost-kiss. This time, Scotty knows, there'll be no falling, no breaking away, no stopping. Just an icy embrace, as the lips pressing his own grow warmer and realer. . . .
"Sulu-Hikaru, don’t," he chokes out, wracking like a sick old man, all a-tremble as that terrible coldness seems to envelop him once more.
Hikaru moves nearer, his eyes wide open and hungry, like those of a starving man.
With Herculean effort born of sheer desperation, Scotty scrambles backwards before Sulu's lips can meet his own, struggles to his feet, and goes staggering in the direction of the hill. At first he could swear he feels Hikaru right on his heels, feels that chill breath on the back of his neck, but that only spurs him on and away from the arms that’re waiting for him.
Halfway up the steep hill, Scotty stumbles and falls to the ground, his head spinning wildly. Then a sudden, cool breeze sweeps across him and he's up and running again. For his life. The next time he falls, he crawls the rest of the way up the hill, and doesn’t look back till he reaches the top. When he does, he sees Hikaru standing exactly where he’d been left, watching him silently. He looks small and sad . . . and so very alone.
Scotty wants nothing more, for a moment anyway, than to go back. To offer what little comfort and absolution he can. But he knows in his heart that there’s no comfort or absolution for the dead. There’s only whatever waits for them in the hereafter, and living are left to mourn for those who’ve moved on, and for themselves,
Mourn Scotty will. When the heartbreak that’s waiting for him on the other side of this finally catches up to him, he will mourn greatly for the friendship they’d had, and what they could’ve had, if only in Scotty’s silly dreams.
For now, he simply raises a hand-the Killing Hand, as he’ll come to think of it ever after-and waves in acknowledgement and thanks.
And farewell.
After several long minutes, Hikaru raises a hand as well and mouths something Scotty can’t make out. Then a sudden flash of light illuminates the entire area, instantaneously so bright, it whites out the world.
When dimness settles once more, Hikaru’s gone, like mist dispersed by a sudden shaft of sunlight and Scotty’s head is spinning worse than ever.
Nevertheless, he sits there watchfully, unwilling to take his tired eyes off the last place he saw Hikaru, till the comm-badges in his pockets go haywire and the distant whine of an approaching shuttle shakes him from his vigil.
End
And in other news . . . I'M IN! Just gotta figure out how I'm gonna pay for what financial aid doesn't cover, and whether I'll be able to start classes on time. The school still needs a copy of my GED diploma and transcript, but that's gonna be at least another month in coming, since I can't find my copy and had to write to NYSED to get a copy.
I hope my liberal arts credits transfer. I definitely don't need the lit classes.
I'm so excited. Another frabjous day-callou, callay!