[Fic] A Fucking Greek Tragedy (M) - Part V
Five pages! I swear, these installments just keep getting longer and longer! Thanks for all of the awesome support you people are giving this fic. Hope this ties you over till the next part.
( Part IV)
Part V - Cassiopeia
[ U.S.S. Enterprise - Sick Bay ]
James Kirk came to with the familiar ache of phaser fire in his muscles, and the almost homey sounds and smells of the Sick Bay to accompany it. His head hurt from where it had struck the ground, making his thoughts a little muddled. He opened his eyes, blinking away the haze until the lights above him came back into focus.
“Glad to see you’re awake, Captain.” Jim jumped from his resting position in the bio-bed, twisting half raised towards the voice that was decidedly not Bones. Nurse Chapel raised an eyebrow at him, trying valiantly to hide the concern in her eyes.
“Where’s…” his brain struggled to process how he got from the Ark room on Olduvai to the Enterprise’s Sick Bay without his knowing. Something screamed that it was the very reason as to why McCoy was not at his side when he woke up. Which was wrong on so many levels. McCoy had to be there. Bones had to be there, was always there for Jim through thick and thin.
‘I’m sorry, Jim.’ Jim’s eyes widened in shock as Len’s arm became a blur of movement, the sound of phaser fire only just preceding the familiar feel of needle-sharp pain before unconsciousness.
It was like a physical blow to his gut. Bones, or some strange look alike that took over his best friend’s skin, had stunned Jim in order to get him out of the way, to get him off of Mars. Something about Sarge, about a Reaper.
Jim watched on furiously, helplessly as piece by piece, with every bit of Starfleet was stripped and replaced with outlandish gear, Bones faded, being replaced by a new, more powerful creature.
‘Handle ID: Reaper.’
It was all too much, and Jim still didn’t have all of the pieces of the puzzle yet. Shrugging off Nurse Chapel’s attentions, he went straight for the comm. unit mounted on the wall of the Sick Bay.
“Computer, locate Doctor McCoy.” The world swam and his body protested being vertical so suddenly, but he shoved it aside.
“Doctor McCoy is not on the Enterprise,” came the computer’s tort reply. Jim cursed loudly before activating the comm. unit again. “Kirk to Bridge, do you copy?”
“I copy, Captain.” Uhura’s tone was professional and entirely devoid of any emotion.
“Uhura, link me to Commander Spock stat.”
“Aye aye sir.” There was the faint sound of buttons and keys being touched, of switches being flipped and Spock’s face filled the vid screen.
“Captain,” the Vulcan greeted with monotone. “I see you are awake. Have you been cleared for duty by Nurse Chapel?”
“What?” Jim fumbled for a coherent train of thought. “No, she didn’t. But listen, that doesn’t matter Spock. Bones is still down there and we need to - “
“I’m afraid that Doctor McCoy has reported in and deemed you unfit for duty, Captain, under the circumstances that you are emotionally compromised.” A faint line appeared between his First Officer’s eyebrows as he continued to speak. “In your absence, he relayed a request of a one hour ‘grace period’, as you call it, before ordering for the Olduvai facility to be destroyed, with or without him on board.”
“You’re the acting Captain in my absence, Spock,” he hissed between clenched teeth, hands balling into fists at his side. “Did you follow McCoy’s orders, or did you send down a security detail to get him the hell out of there?”
“I did what was most logical, Captain,” he replied, as unflappable as ever. “I have agreed to follow the doctor’s suggestion and have primed the photon torpedoes. As of now he currently has 35.42 minutes until I follow through with the destruction of the reseArkh facility.”
Jim let out a howl of rage, slamming his fist into wall beside the comm. link. How could this be happening? Why the fuck was this happening?
“Logical!” His voice was raised almost to a shout, which prompted the nurses to try and restrain the Captain. “Get the fuck off me!” His tome cowed the nurses enough for him to jerk his arms out of their grasp. “Spock, how the hell do you consider it logical to follow the commands of an inferior officer, a medical officer, instead of your Captain?”
“Captain, as your CMO Doctor McCoy has every right to declare you unfit until you are otherwise deemed ready to resume command. Also, I thought it prudent to listen to the doctor in this instance.”
“Spock,” the words were ground out past the lump in his throat, Spock’s face blurred slightly by the tears of helplessness that he stubbornly refused to acknowledge. “What the hell is going on?”
“I managed to find the files you requested about UAC and their operations on Mars.” Spock’s tone was noticeably softer than it had been moments ago. He looked away from the screen, pressing a few buttons before looking back just at the PADD in Nurse Chapel’s hand pinged at an incoming message.
Jim took the PADD from the Nurse, letting out a frustrated growl at the sheer mountain of data that Spock had been able to unearth. A few of the documents had been highlighted by his First Officer, but even those were too numerous for him to read through in so little time.
“Dammit Spock, I don’t have time to go through this!” The Vulcan nodded, standing from his chair.
“I will be there shortly to debrief you, Captain. In the mean time, I suggest that you look at the Rapid Response Tactical Squad personnel file labeled ‘Reaper’. Spock out.” The screen went dark and Jim barely restrained himself from pulling at his hair.
He sat down on the bio bed instead, sorting through all of the reports and documents written by the old Terran government and the UAC until he found the RRTS files, pulling up a dossier full of personnel files. He recognized the names of those assigned to Olduvai in 2046. Private Dantalian, Mark - The Kid. Private First Class Takahashi, Katsuhiko Kumanosuke - Mac. Corporal Fantom, Eric - Goat. Corporal Portman, Dean - Portman. Sergeant Gannon, Roark - Destroyer. Sergeant Schofield, Gregory - Duke. Gunnery Sergeant Mahonin, Asher - Sarge.
Staff Sergeant Grimm, John - Reaper.
With the file came a picture of Staff Sergeant Grimm and Jim almost burst out laughing. What? He had to. It was funny. It had to be some huge practical joke the universe was playing on him. How else could he explain the fact that John Grimm looked exactly like Leonard Horatio McCoy, from the shape of his face to the mole above his right eyebrow. Jim read the file, shoving his hysterical laughter aside.
Grimm had been the only one of his team to survive escaping Olduvai. His file states that he was 28 years old when he was deployed as the team’s medic. He had lived the first eight years of his life in Indiana until World War III broke out. By then, UAC had discovered something called the Ark and had set up an archeological dig in the ruins of an ancient city on Mars they called Olduvai.
Apparently, John practically grew up on Mars, living there until he was sixteen. His parents had died, leaving him and his twin sister Samantha orphaned at age ten. John left Olduvai as soon as he was able, enlisting in the Terran Marines at seventeen, where he was quick to make a name for himself and rise through the ranks, securing a position on the RRTS at the age of twenty four.
His service record was an impressive one, long and filled with very few failures, decorated with several commendations and even a few medals. He fought several battles in the War before ultimately ending up on Olduvai once again. The mission was supposed to be a simple clean-up/search and rescue operation under quarantine conditions. The details of what went on were sketchy, as only John and his twin Dr. Samantha Grimm had survived. She had been too traumatized to talk, and John had set his house on fire (with himself in it) before his report could be fully detailed.
And yet, nearly two and a half centuries later Leonard Horatio McCoy, who wears the soldier’s face, who is Jim’s best friend, confidant, and CMO, who couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag, was down on Olduvai with a gun, acting as if he was born with one in his hands.
“What the fuck is going on here Bones?” Jim breathes in deep through his nose, closing his eyes a minute to think. He doesn’t get a minute, as the Sick Bay doors swoop open and Spock is at his side, lips pulled tight in a way that Jim recognizes to mean that the half-Vulcan is deeply concerned. The Captain, pushed himself off the bio bed, making a bee-line for the exit.
“Spock, you can debrief me as we walk.” Spock nods and falls in beside Jim, wasting no time in explaining what research UAC was conducting on the red planet.
“Along with archeological research, UAC was doing weapons testing on the planet’s surface.” The hybrid lengthened his strides to match his captain’s quickening pace. “One of the major finds was that of a humanoid race that had once existed there centuries before. They were very much like humans, except for the fact that they had a twenty-fourth chromosome, which was later attributed to giving them enhanced strength, speed and intelligence, as well as an increase in healing abilities by a rate of approximately 5.28 times that of a human. There were no records of any disease or illnesses within this group.
“It was discovered that the earliest remains, however, did not have this extra chromosome, which lead researchers to believe that it had been artificially created and introduced to the population.”
“Xeno-genesis,” Jim whispered. He felt an involuntary shudder. It did not escape him that at the time of this research, World War III, more commonly known as the Eugenics Wars, was still in full swing. If the research was correct, and the ancient people on Mars had found a way to give themselves superhuman abilities…
“Records indicate that the facility was able to synthesize the chromosome in a compound they named C-24.,” Spock interjected, effectively cutting off his train of thought. “When they tested the compound, however, it proved to mutate test subjects and invoke incredibly violent behaviours. Shortly after a human subject had been injected with C-24 was when Earth received the distress call from Olduvai. It is logical to assume that the human suffered mutation and escaped, somehow managing to wipe out everyone on both the Olduvai base and the Earth base in Nevada as well.”
Spock had his narrative by the time they had reached the Bridge. Jim instinctively went for the Captain’s chair. Sulu, who no doubt had the conn in his and Spock’s absence, wordlessly abandoned the chair, taking up his position at the helm once more.
“I don’t get it,” he said, leaning forward in his chair, clenching his hands together in front of his as an outward sign of frustration. “How does one guy, mutated or not, take out all of those people?”
“Staff Sergeant Grimm stated in his report that mutated test subject was able to infect and mutate some on the base and killed others. It is reasonable to assume that the infection spread quickly and viciously, even with the quarantine and the efforts of the RRTS.”
“Then how are the Grimms the only ones able to get out? More importantly, how the hell does Reaper get out of there without a scratch?”
“It is only a theory,” Spock begins, “but it is entirely possible that Grimm was exposed to C-24 on Olduvai and reacted to it in a different manner.”
“So what, you’re saying he became superhuman or something? Are you trying to tell me that Bones and Grimm are the same fucking person?”
“The body they found in Grimm’s could not be properly identified, and he was never subjected to a thorough medical examination upon his return to Earth.”
Jim runs his fingers through his hair, sighing angrily. He jabs the comm. button on the arm of his chair. “Kirk to McCoy, do you copy?” There is no response. “I said Kirk to McCoy, do you copy?” Jim growled at the silence and turns to Chekov.
“Are you getting any of his life signs?” The young Russian looks helplessly at his starion, fingers flying in a vain attempt to obey his Captain.
“No Keptin,” he says. “Zer has been no wital signs since ze Doctor took off his shirt forty-one meenutes ago.” Jim holds his head in his hands, trying desperately not to scream.
He had never felt trapped in his chair before. He loves his chair, this symbol of command and respect. He has always felt comfortable here, in control, surrounded by the best and brightest people he has ever had the joy of working with in this very chair.
This bridge, this chair he realizes, isn’t the same without Bones. Bones and Spock have always managed to balance him out, his right and left hand, his heart and his head, his soul and his logic. His chair is a torture device, a symbol of his duty to his ship and to his crew that is keeping him from his duty to his best friend, to his heart.
Time is running out.
“Fuck it,” he says, making almost everyone jump. Jim stabs the comm. unit and reaches the transporter room. “Scotty, ready the transporter. One to beam down.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Jim stands from his chair, only to be intercepted by Spock.
“Sir,” he starts. “It is strictly against Starfleet regulation - “
“Tell it to someone who gives a damn!” He shouts, sidestepping around his First Officer. “Bones is on that planet and I’m not going to abandon him there. I don’t know about this whole immortality thing, but I’m pretty sure he won’t be able to piece himself back together if we blow his atoms apart.”
He leaves the Bridge unhindered, making a side trip to his quarters. He’s pleased to find that security had thought to put the pistol Bones had given him there. Jim checks that the safety is on before running for the transporter room.
The Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise is on the transporter pad, removing the safety of the antique gun when Spock finds him. They share a brief but fierce look before Spock’s shoulders dip just a hair. It’s the Vulcan equivalent to a sigh of defeat and bitter resignation.
“Fifteen minutes, Jim.” Jim nods and flashes him a smile.
“Fifteen minutes,” he parrots. “Plenty of time.” He nods once to Scotty at the controls.
“Energize.”
( Part VI)
( Part IV)
Part V - Cassiopeia
[ U.S.S. Enterprise - Sick Bay ]
James Kirk came to with the familiar ache of phaser fire in his muscles, and the almost homey sounds and smells of the Sick Bay to accompany it. His head hurt from where it had struck the ground, making his thoughts a little muddled. He opened his eyes, blinking away the haze until the lights above him came back into focus.
“Glad to see you’re awake, Captain.” Jim jumped from his resting position in the bio-bed, twisting half raised towards the voice that was decidedly not Bones. Nurse Chapel raised an eyebrow at him, trying valiantly to hide the concern in her eyes.
“Where’s…” his brain struggled to process how he got from the Ark room on Olduvai to the Enterprise’s Sick Bay without his knowing. Something screamed that it was the very reason as to why McCoy was not at his side when he woke up. Which was wrong on so many levels. McCoy had to be there. Bones had to be there, was always there for Jim through thick and thin.
‘I’m sorry, Jim.’ Jim’s eyes widened in shock as Len’s arm became a blur of movement, the sound of phaser fire only just preceding the familiar feel of needle-sharp pain before unconsciousness.
It was like a physical blow to his gut. Bones, or some strange look alike that took over his best friend’s skin, had stunned Jim in order to get him out of the way, to get him off of Mars. Something about Sarge, about a Reaper.
Jim watched on furiously, helplessly as piece by piece, with every bit of Starfleet was stripped and replaced with outlandish gear, Bones faded, being replaced by a new, more powerful creature.
‘Handle ID: Reaper.’
It was all too much, and Jim still didn’t have all of the pieces of the puzzle yet. Shrugging off Nurse Chapel’s attentions, he went straight for the comm. unit mounted on the wall of the Sick Bay.
“Computer, locate Doctor McCoy.” The world swam and his body protested being vertical so suddenly, but he shoved it aside.
“Doctor McCoy is not on the Enterprise,” came the computer’s tort reply. Jim cursed loudly before activating the comm. unit again. “Kirk to Bridge, do you copy?”
“I copy, Captain.” Uhura’s tone was professional and entirely devoid of any emotion.
“Uhura, link me to Commander Spock stat.”
“Aye aye sir.” There was the faint sound of buttons and keys being touched, of switches being flipped and Spock’s face filled the vid screen.
“Captain,” the Vulcan greeted with monotone. “I see you are awake. Have you been cleared for duty by Nurse Chapel?”
“What?” Jim fumbled for a coherent train of thought. “No, she didn’t. But listen, that doesn’t matter Spock. Bones is still down there and we need to - “
“I’m afraid that Doctor McCoy has reported in and deemed you unfit for duty, Captain, under the circumstances that you are emotionally compromised.” A faint line appeared between his First Officer’s eyebrows as he continued to speak. “In your absence, he relayed a request of a one hour ‘grace period’, as you call it, before ordering for the Olduvai facility to be destroyed, with or without him on board.”
“You’re the acting Captain in my absence, Spock,” he hissed between clenched teeth, hands balling into fists at his side. “Did you follow McCoy’s orders, or did you send down a security detail to get him the hell out of there?”
“I did what was most logical, Captain,” he replied, as unflappable as ever. “I have agreed to follow the doctor’s suggestion and have primed the photon torpedoes. As of now he currently has 35.42 minutes until I follow through with the destruction of the reseArkh facility.”
Jim let out a howl of rage, slamming his fist into wall beside the comm. link. How could this be happening? Why the fuck was this happening?
“Logical!” His voice was raised almost to a shout, which prompted the nurses to try and restrain the Captain. “Get the fuck off me!” His tome cowed the nurses enough for him to jerk his arms out of their grasp. “Spock, how the hell do you consider it logical to follow the commands of an inferior officer, a medical officer, instead of your Captain?”
“Captain, as your CMO Doctor McCoy has every right to declare you unfit until you are otherwise deemed ready to resume command. Also, I thought it prudent to listen to the doctor in this instance.”
“Spock,” the words were ground out past the lump in his throat, Spock’s face blurred slightly by the tears of helplessness that he stubbornly refused to acknowledge. “What the hell is going on?”
“I managed to find the files you requested about UAC and their operations on Mars.” Spock’s tone was noticeably softer than it had been moments ago. He looked away from the screen, pressing a few buttons before looking back just at the PADD in Nurse Chapel’s hand pinged at an incoming message.
Jim took the PADD from the Nurse, letting out a frustrated growl at the sheer mountain of data that Spock had been able to unearth. A few of the documents had been highlighted by his First Officer, but even those were too numerous for him to read through in so little time.
“Dammit Spock, I don’t have time to go through this!” The Vulcan nodded, standing from his chair.
“I will be there shortly to debrief you, Captain. In the mean time, I suggest that you look at the Rapid Response Tactical Squad personnel file labeled ‘Reaper’. Spock out.” The screen went dark and Jim barely restrained himself from pulling at his hair.
He sat down on the bio bed instead, sorting through all of the reports and documents written by the old Terran government and the UAC until he found the RRTS files, pulling up a dossier full of personnel files. He recognized the names of those assigned to Olduvai in 2046. Private Dantalian, Mark - The Kid. Private First Class Takahashi, Katsuhiko Kumanosuke - Mac. Corporal Fantom, Eric - Goat. Corporal Portman, Dean - Portman. Sergeant Gannon, Roark - Destroyer. Sergeant Schofield, Gregory - Duke. Gunnery Sergeant Mahonin, Asher - Sarge.
Staff Sergeant Grimm, John - Reaper.
With the file came a picture of Staff Sergeant Grimm and Jim almost burst out laughing. What? He had to. It was funny. It had to be some huge practical joke the universe was playing on him. How else could he explain the fact that John Grimm looked exactly like Leonard Horatio McCoy, from the shape of his face to the mole above his right eyebrow. Jim read the file, shoving his hysterical laughter aside.
Grimm had been the only one of his team to survive escaping Olduvai. His file states that he was 28 years old when he was deployed as the team’s medic. He had lived the first eight years of his life in Indiana until World War III broke out. By then, UAC had discovered something called the Ark and had set up an archeological dig in the ruins of an ancient city on Mars they called Olduvai.
Apparently, John practically grew up on Mars, living there until he was sixteen. His parents had died, leaving him and his twin sister Samantha orphaned at age ten. John left Olduvai as soon as he was able, enlisting in the Terran Marines at seventeen, where he was quick to make a name for himself and rise through the ranks, securing a position on the RRTS at the age of twenty four.
His service record was an impressive one, long and filled with very few failures, decorated with several commendations and even a few medals. He fought several battles in the War before ultimately ending up on Olduvai once again. The mission was supposed to be a simple clean-up/search and rescue operation under quarantine conditions. The details of what went on were sketchy, as only John and his twin Dr. Samantha Grimm had survived. She had been too traumatized to talk, and John had set his house on fire (with himself in it) before his report could be fully detailed.
And yet, nearly two and a half centuries later Leonard Horatio McCoy, who wears the soldier’s face, who is Jim’s best friend, confidant, and CMO, who couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag, was down on Olduvai with a gun, acting as if he was born with one in his hands.
“What the fuck is going on here Bones?” Jim breathes in deep through his nose, closing his eyes a minute to think. He doesn’t get a minute, as the Sick Bay doors swoop open and Spock is at his side, lips pulled tight in a way that Jim recognizes to mean that the half-Vulcan is deeply concerned. The Captain, pushed himself off the bio bed, making a bee-line for the exit.
“Spock, you can debrief me as we walk.” Spock nods and falls in beside Jim, wasting no time in explaining what research UAC was conducting on the red planet.
“Along with archeological research, UAC was doing weapons testing on the planet’s surface.” The hybrid lengthened his strides to match his captain’s quickening pace. “One of the major finds was that of a humanoid race that had once existed there centuries before. They were very much like humans, except for the fact that they had a twenty-fourth chromosome, which was later attributed to giving them enhanced strength, speed and intelligence, as well as an increase in healing abilities by a rate of approximately 5.28 times that of a human. There were no records of any disease or illnesses within this group.
“It was discovered that the earliest remains, however, did not have this extra chromosome, which lead researchers to believe that it had been artificially created and introduced to the population.”
“Xeno-genesis,” Jim whispered. He felt an involuntary shudder. It did not escape him that at the time of this research, World War III, more commonly known as the Eugenics Wars, was still in full swing. If the research was correct, and the ancient people on Mars had found a way to give themselves superhuman abilities…
“Records indicate that the facility was able to synthesize the chromosome in a compound they named C-24.,” Spock interjected, effectively cutting off his train of thought. “When they tested the compound, however, it proved to mutate test subjects and invoke incredibly violent behaviours. Shortly after a human subject had been injected with C-24 was when Earth received the distress call from Olduvai. It is logical to assume that the human suffered mutation and escaped, somehow managing to wipe out everyone on both the Olduvai base and the Earth base in Nevada as well.”
Spock had his narrative by the time they had reached the Bridge. Jim instinctively went for the Captain’s chair. Sulu, who no doubt had the conn in his and Spock’s absence, wordlessly abandoned the chair, taking up his position at the helm once more.
“I don’t get it,” he said, leaning forward in his chair, clenching his hands together in front of his as an outward sign of frustration. “How does one guy, mutated or not, take out all of those people?”
“Staff Sergeant Grimm stated in his report that mutated test subject was able to infect and mutate some on the base and killed others. It is reasonable to assume that the infection spread quickly and viciously, even with the quarantine and the efforts of the RRTS.”
“Then how are the Grimms the only ones able to get out? More importantly, how the hell does Reaper get out of there without a scratch?”
“It is only a theory,” Spock begins, “but it is entirely possible that Grimm was exposed to C-24 on Olduvai and reacted to it in a different manner.”
“So what, you’re saying he became superhuman or something? Are you trying to tell me that Bones and Grimm are the same fucking person?”
“The body they found in Grimm’s could not be properly identified, and he was never subjected to a thorough medical examination upon his return to Earth.”
Jim runs his fingers through his hair, sighing angrily. He jabs the comm. button on the arm of his chair. “Kirk to McCoy, do you copy?” There is no response. “I said Kirk to McCoy, do you copy?” Jim growled at the silence and turns to Chekov.
“Are you getting any of his life signs?” The young Russian looks helplessly at his starion, fingers flying in a vain attempt to obey his Captain.
“No Keptin,” he says. “Zer has been no wital signs since ze Doctor took off his shirt forty-one meenutes ago.” Jim holds his head in his hands, trying desperately not to scream.
He had never felt trapped in his chair before. He loves his chair, this symbol of command and respect. He has always felt comfortable here, in control, surrounded by the best and brightest people he has ever had the joy of working with in this very chair.
This bridge, this chair he realizes, isn’t the same without Bones. Bones and Spock have always managed to balance him out, his right and left hand, his heart and his head, his soul and his logic. His chair is a torture device, a symbol of his duty to his ship and to his crew that is keeping him from his duty to his best friend, to his heart.
Time is running out.
“Fuck it,” he says, making almost everyone jump. Jim stabs the comm. unit and reaches the transporter room. “Scotty, ready the transporter. One to beam down.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Jim stands from his chair, only to be intercepted by Spock.
“Sir,” he starts. “It is strictly against Starfleet regulation - “
“Tell it to someone who gives a damn!” He shouts, sidestepping around his First Officer. “Bones is on that planet and I’m not going to abandon him there. I don’t know about this whole immortality thing, but I’m pretty sure he won’t be able to piece himself back together if we blow his atoms apart.”
He leaves the Bridge unhindered, making a side trip to his quarters. He’s pleased to find that security had thought to put the pistol Bones had given him there. Jim checks that the safety is on before running for the transporter room.
The Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise is on the transporter pad, removing the safety of the antique gun when Spock finds him. They share a brief but fierce look before Spock’s shoulders dip just a hair. It’s the Vulcan equivalent to a sigh of defeat and bitter resignation.
“Fifteen minutes, Jim.” Jim nods and flashes him a smile.
“Fifteen minutes,” he parrots. “Plenty of time.” He nods once to Scotty at the controls.
“Energize.”
( Part VI)