ST: Requiem (2/?)
Title: Requiem (chapter two)
Rating: PG-13/T for language, some violence
Genre: Angst, h/c, gen; this chapter has slight Spura
Characters: The entire ST:XI crew plus some new OCs; this chapter has a strong focus on Spock
Spoilers/warnings: Anything in the movie is up for grabs. Also trying to stick as close to canon as possible for the show, but I haven't watched many. Most of my knowledge is limited to what I've found on (numerous) Web sites, so if I'm off on something, feel free to let me know.
Length: This chapter: a little over 2200 words
Notes: I'm a day early. I'm sure y'all are very upset with me. ~_^ I'm going camping tomorrow, so I figured it's probably better to post early than late. Next chapter will be up next week Friday.
Notes the second: This chapter is Spock-heavy, which was a little frightening for me, as he can be hard for me to write. Let me know what you think. Thanks to eightiswild for the beta. I've messed around with it since she looked at it, however, so all mistakes are mine.
Summary: Caught off-guard by their captain's sudden death, the crew of the Enterprise searches for answers. The problem? Jim Kirk isn't dead.
The turbo lift was silent. Spock stared blankly at the doors, remaining motionless even when Uhura lightly gripped his elbow. Chekov and Sulu were each pale, eyes wide as they stared ahead without really seeing what was in front of them.
James T. Kirk was dead.
That simple statement was enough to make Spock’s emotions swirl violently. Only his lifelong training prevented him from unleashing his confusion, his anger, his despair on the paneling of the lift.
It was simply illogical. There had been no warning signs, no indication that Kirk was anything but healthy. By Sulu’s account, one minute he was breathing and the next he was not.
An hour ago, Jim Kirk had been walking along the streets of Pilar on a simple diplomatic mission. Now, his lifeless body was sequestered away on a secluded bio-bed in sickbay.
What had happened?
Uhura’s hand dropped as the doors slid open with a hiss. It took all of Spock’s self-control to keep from grabbing her hand. It was illogical, but he needed the reassurance that she was still there--that there was something he could still rely on to be the same.
The quiet chatter on the bridge faded as the crew caught sight of the four somber figures emerging from the lift. Spock paused as he stepped foot onto the bridge and caught sight of Kirk’s chair.
“Lieutenant Uhura… I need to contact Admiral Pike immediately,” he finally murmured. “Starfleet… needs to be informed of the change in circumstances.”
Uhura nodded once, eyes dry but voice heavy with emotion as she softly replied, “Yes, sir.”
Spock hesitated for a moment as the other three moved to their stations. He could hear the soft whispers of the others on the bridge, each wondering (fearing) if the worst had happened. He ignored their looks and murmurs as he moved to stand behind the captain’s chair.
His chair.
He was captain of the Enterprise now. Because James T. Kirk was dead.
Spock’s fingers rose up and gripped the back of the chair, knuckles flushing white as he held on tightly. He didn’t want to sit in the chair. Sitting in the chair made the change permanent.
He knew it was illogical to think that. He’d sat as acting captain in this particular chair many times over the previous two years. He’d assumed command in the midst of several crises under both Pike and Kirk. There had been times (too many, McCoy would say) where Spock had been forced to sit in the chair until it was determined if Jim would survive the latest landing party fiasco. There had never been this hesitation to sit in the chair on those occasions. After all, it was simply a chair, equipped with the devices a captain needed to maintain command of his ship. By all appearances, the chair was just that--a chair, and nothing more.
Except it wasn’t. It was the captain’s chair. Spock’s chair now. Because Jim Kirk was dead and couldn’t sit there anymore.
Jim was dead.
Spock hadn’t felt such emotion since he’d watch both his mother and his planet die in one fell swoop almost two years ago.
He couldn’t even understand why he felt this way. It wasn’t as if Kirk was his closest confidante. No, that title fell to Uhura. She was the one who knew everything about him--including the way he was feeling now, if her subtle glances in his direction were anything to judge by. She understood him better than anyone onboard the ship--perhaps even better than his own mother. He had always thought that if there were to be a loss as great as that of his mother and his people, it would be her.
And yet Jim Kirk’s death had unexpectedly sent him reeling.
“I’ve contacted the admiral, sir,” Uhura called, interrupting his thoughts.
“Onscreen, please,” Spock ordered softly.
A moment later Christopher Pike’s face appeared on the main viewscreen. “Commander Spock,” Pike greeted. “The lieutenant labeled this conversation as urgent. What’s the trouble?” He paused for a moment, frown creasing his face as he stared at the empty captain’s chair. “Where’s Kirk?”
Spock swallowed, releasing his grip on the chair and moving to stand in front of it. “Jim’s dead, sir.” The words sounded no better spoken aloud than they had in his head.
Pike stared in stunned silence as someone on the bridge gasped. “What happened?” the admiral finally asked. His voice was steady, but Spock heard the subtle tremor in his tone--an indication of his astonished disbelief.
“After spending most of the afternoon on Pilar, Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Sulu took an excursion and visited the planet’s starship production plant. The captain collapsed on the journey back from the tour. The away team beamed aboard immediately, but Dr. McCoy was unable to revive him,” Spock recited flatly, folding his hands behind his back. “Time of death was nineteen-hundred hours.”
“Who was on the away team?”
“The captain, myself, Lieutenant Sulu, and Lieutenant Commander Scott.”
Pike rubbed a hand over his face once, the transmission equipment picking up his faint sigh. “And no one else was affected?”
“No, sir. Dr. McCoy’s examinations show no signs of affliction to any of the other members,” Spock replied calmly. He mentally forced himself to unclench his hands behind his back.
Pike’s gaze focused on Sulu. “Any strange mishaps during your tour, Lieutenant?”
Sulu shook his head once. “Nothing happened that seemed out of the ordinary, sir,” he answered grimly.
“Do you have a cause of death?” Pike asked after a long moment.
“It appears to be natural causes, Admiral,” Spock said. His hands clenched again as disbelief flared deep within the admiral’s eyes. He knew Pike was rejecting the news, much as he himself had when McCoy had told him the preliminary findings thirty-eight minutes earlier.
Spock took a quick calming breath before adding, “Considering the circumstances, both Dr. McCoy and I felt it would be best to have the autopsy conducted back at Starfleet Medical.”
“Yes, of course. I understand,” Pike replied immediately. “Have you notified the Pilarian Council yet?”
“No, sir. I… have not notified the crew yet, either,” Spock said, a glimpse of despair flashing in his eyes before being subdued again.
He hadn’t wanted to tell the crew that their captain was dead. Not only did it make the event final, but the emotional results would be overwhelming. As it was, Spock was having a hard enough time blocking out the bridge crew’s emotions while also dealing with his own turbulent thoughts and feelings. Facing an entire starship’s emotional outpouring would almost certainly be more than he could handle.
After all, Kirk knew everyone onboard by face and almost all by name--he'd made it his own personal mission to know everyone who he was working with at least in passing. Everyone on the Enterprise knew of him and respected him well enough to work for him--even those who had looked down on him for his unconventional methods of rising to his captaincy. They had all seen what kind of self-sacrificing leader Kirk was, and even those who’d initially resented him had grown to like him.
Everyone on the ship would grieve the loss of their young captain.
Pike eyed his former first officer knowingly. “They shall need to know why they are returning home, Captain,” he told him quietly.
Spock’s eyes closed for a moment, shoulders tensing at the sound of the title, as all eyes on the bridge turned to look at him. “Understood, sir.”
“Tell the Pilarian Council that we shall be sending another ship within the month to resume discussion of their desires to join the Federation. The Enterprise should return home immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” Spock said. “I’ll have Lieutenant Uhura send you our estimated arrival time once I have consulted with the helm.”
“Good. I’ll… start to make the necessary arrangements here,” Pike replied with a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. “I’ll see you soon, Captain. Pike out.”
The bridge fell silent again as Pike’s image disappeared from the screen, the view once again showing the small red-brown planet of Pilar.
“He’s… he’s really dead?”
Spock turned to face the young female ensign that had spoken. “Yes,” he said softly.
He faced the chair, well-aware of the eyes watching him. He took a deep, silent breath through his nose before sitting. Suppressing the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, he looked to the helm. “Mr. Sulu, how long will it take us to return to Earth if we travel at warp factor one?”
Sulu kept his gaze on his controls as he replied, “Approximately four days, sir.”
Spock nodded once. “Set course, Mr. Sulu, but maintain standard orbit until after we have contacted the Pilarian council.” He activated the ship-wide communicator, pausing momentarily before announcing, “Attention, Enterprise. This is Acting Captain Spock. I regret to inform you that shortly before nineteen hundred hours today, Captain Kirk collapsed while conducting diplomatic business on the surface of Pilar. Despite the medical team’s best efforts, he passed away shortly thereafter.”
And suddenly it was almost too much. A tidal wave of emotions--disbelief, anger, fear, despair, grief--slammed into him, threatening to overwhelm him with its potency. Spock squeezed his eyes shut, rapidly constructing mental barriers to protect him from the rush of emotion. After a moment, he continued, “I have discussed our situation with Admiral Christopher Pike. He has ordered the Enterprise to return to Earth immediately.” He paused to consider his next words before finishing, “Given our current location and planned speed, we should arrive in four days. Spock out.”
Spock switched channels, keeping his voice even as he ordered, “Mr. Scott, please report to the bridge.”
“Aye, sir,” Scott replied through his communicator. “Be up in a wee bit. Scott out.”
Spock nodded once as he switched channels again. “Dr. McCoy, I would request your presence on the bridge.”
“Izzit somethin’ important? Jus’ got off duty.”
Spock’s eyebrows furrowed a little at the slur in the doctor’s voice but replied, “We need to discuss what happened on Pilar.”
There was a moment of silence before McCoy answered, “I’ll be up in a minute.”
“Thank you, doctor. Spock out.”
Spock switched the communicator off and sat back in the chair, propping his elbows on the armrests and pressing his fingers together thoughtfully as he closed his eyes. Exhaling silently through his nose, he forced all thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on strengthening his emotional barrier.
For all intents and purposes, Starfleet Regulation 619 required him to step down as captain because of emotional compromise.
But then, Spock was fairly certain no one onboard the Enterprise would be able to serve as captain without being emotionally compromised at the present moment.
Feeling as adequately prepared as possible, Spock rose from the chair as the turbo lift slid open. Both Scott and McCoy stepped off the lift before the doors had even finished opening. The CMO seemed perfectly sober, but Spock caught sight of a fresh hypo injection mark on the side of McCoy’s neck when the doctor quickly jerked his head to avoid looking at the captain’s chair. The Vulcan suspected that the hypo had contained one of the doctor’s many hangover remedies.
“You wanted t’ see us, sir?” Scott asked, face grim as his eyes shot from the chair to Spock.
Spock nodded once. “Mr. Sulu, come with us. Mr. Chekov, you have the conn.”
“Aye, sir,” the young Russian replied as Sulu rose to his feet.
Spock led the group off the bridge and into the nearby conference room. The others sat around the small table without any prompting. “Gentlemen, this debriefing shall be informal. Please do not hesitate to speak your mind throughout the proceedings,” Spock informed them all.
“You’re gonna leave Pilar without conducting an investigation first?” McCoy demanded immediately.
“Admiral Pike will assign another Starfleet ship to continue our work on Pilar while we return to Earth,” Spock replied.
“Our work? You mean that diplomatic shit that got Jim killed?”
Spock raised an eyebrow slightly in response to McCoy’s anger. “You were the one who informed me the captain’s passing was the result of natural causes. Have you discovered new information pertinent to this discussion?”
McCoy’s shoulders deflated as the others looked at him. He slumped back in his chair, rubbing his face once before letting his hand drop. “No,” he declared wearily.
“Then why this accusation that our diplomatic mission to Pilar led to Jim’s demise?”
The CMO looked up at him sharply, eyes narrowing as he stared at Spock for a moment. “There’s gotta be something I missed, or you missed. You know as well as I do that Jim was healthy as a horse.”
“Perhaps his heart…”
Sulu trailed off as McCoy shook his head violently. “He just had a physical last month, and he passed all the tests, including the cardiac ones, with flying colors. Something’s not right about this whole thing.”
“All due respect, but why’re we here?” Scott interrupted, gesturing to himself and Sulu. “I mean, I’m shocked by all this, too, but…”
“We need to review everything that occurred on Pilar,” Spock answered. “Starting from the moment we beamed down.”
tbc...
Rating: PG-13/T for language, some violence
Genre: Angst, h/c, gen; this chapter has slight Spura
Characters: The entire ST:XI crew plus some new OCs; this chapter has a strong focus on Spock
Spoilers/warnings: Anything in the movie is up for grabs. Also trying to stick as close to canon as possible for the show, but I haven't watched many. Most of my knowledge is limited to what I've found on (numerous) Web sites, so if I'm off on something, feel free to let me know.
Length: This chapter: a little over 2200 words
Notes: I'm a day early. I'm sure y'all are very upset with me. ~_^ I'm going camping tomorrow, so I figured it's probably better to post early than late. Next chapter will be up next week Friday.
Notes the second: This chapter is Spock-heavy, which was a little frightening for me, as he can be hard for me to write. Let me know what you think. Thanks to eightiswild for the beta. I've messed around with it since she looked at it, however, so all mistakes are mine.
Summary: Caught off-guard by their captain's sudden death, the crew of the Enterprise searches for answers. The problem? Jim Kirk isn't dead.
The turbo lift was silent. Spock stared blankly at the doors, remaining motionless even when Uhura lightly gripped his elbow. Chekov and Sulu were each pale, eyes wide as they stared ahead without really seeing what was in front of them.
James T. Kirk was dead.
That simple statement was enough to make Spock’s emotions swirl violently. Only his lifelong training prevented him from unleashing his confusion, his anger, his despair on the paneling of the lift.
It was simply illogical. There had been no warning signs, no indication that Kirk was anything but healthy. By Sulu’s account, one minute he was breathing and the next he was not.
An hour ago, Jim Kirk had been walking along the streets of Pilar on a simple diplomatic mission. Now, his lifeless body was sequestered away on a secluded bio-bed in sickbay.
What had happened?
Uhura’s hand dropped as the doors slid open with a hiss. It took all of Spock’s self-control to keep from grabbing her hand. It was illogical, but he needed the reassurance that she was still there--that there was something he could still rely on to be the same.
The quiet chatter on the bridge faded as the crew caught sight of the four somber figures emerging from the lift. Spock paused as he stepped foot onto the bridge and caught sight of Kirk’s chair.
“Lieutenant Uhura… I need to contact Admiral Pike immediately,” he finally murmured. “Starfleet… needs to be informed of the change in circumstances.”
Uhura nodded once, eyes dry but voice heavy with emotion as she softly replied, “Yes, sir.”
Spock hesitated for a moment as the other three moved to their stations. He could hear the soft whispers of the others on the bridge, each wondering (fearing) if the worst had happened. He ignored their looks and murmurs as he moved to stand behind the captain’s chair.
His chair.
He was captain of the Enterprise now. Because James T. Kirk was dead.
Spock’s fingers rose up and gripped the back of the chair, knuckles flushing white as he held on tightly. He didn’t want to sit in the chair. Sitting in the chair made the change permanent.
He knew it was illogical to think that. He’d sat as acting captain in this particular chair many times over the previous two years. He’d assumed command in the midst of several crises under both Pike and Kirk. There had been times (too many, McCoy would say) where Spock had been forced to sit in the chair until it was determined if Jim would survive the latest landing party fiasco. There had never been this hesitation to sit in the chair on those occasions. After all, it was simply a chair, equipped with the devices a captain needed to maintain command of his ship. By all appearances, the chair was just that--a chair, and nothing more.
Except it wasn’t. It was the captain’s chair. Spock’s chair now. Because Jim Kirk was dead and couldn’t sit there anymore.
Jim was dead.
Spock hadn’t felt such emotion since he’d watch both his mother and his planet die in one fell swoop almost two years ago.
He couldn’t even understand why he felt this way. It wasn’t as if Kirk was his closest confidante. No, that title fell to Uhura. She was the one who knew everything about him--including the way he was feeling now, if her subtle glances in his direction were anything to judge by. She understood him better than anyone onboard the ship--perhaps even better than his own mother. He had always thought that if there were to be a loss as great as that of his mother and his people, it would be her.
And yet Jim Kirk’s death had unexpectedly sent him reeling.
“I’ve contacted the admiral, sir,” Uhura called, interrupting his thoughts.
“Onscreen, please,” Spock ordered softly.
A moment later Christopher Pike’s face appeared on the main viewscreen. “Commander Spock,” Pike greeted. “The lieutenant labeled this conversation as urgent. What’s the trouble?” He paused for a moment, frown creasing his face as he stared at the empty captain’s chair. “Where’s Kirk?”
Spock swallowed, releasing his grip on the chair and moving to stand in front of it. “Jim’s dead, sir.” The words sounded no better spoken aloud than they had in his head.
Pike stared in stunned silence as someone on the bridge gasped. “What happened?” the admiral finally asked. His voice was steady, but Spock heard the subtle tremor in his tone--an indication of his astonished disbelief.
“After spending most of the afternoon on Pilar, Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Sulu took an excursion and visited the planet’s starship production plant. The captain collapsed on the journey back from the tour. The away team beamed aboard immediately, but Dr. McCoy was unable to revive him,” Spock recited flatly, folding his hands behind his back. “Time of death was nineteen-hundred hours.”
“Who was on the away team?”
“The captain, myself, Lieutenant Sulu, and Lieutenant Commander Scott.”
Pike rubbed a hand over his face once, the transmission equipment picking up his faint sigh. “And no one else was affected?”
“No, sir. Dr. McCoy’s examinations show no signs of affliction to any of the other members,” Spock replied calmly. He mentally forced himself to unclench his hands behind his back.
Pike’s gaze focused on Sulu. “Any strange mishaps during your tour, Lieutenant?”
Sulu shook his head once. “Nothing happened that seemed out of the ordinary, sir,” he answered grimly.
“Do you have a cause of death?” Pike asked after a long moment.
“It appears to be natural causes, Admiral,” Spock said. His hands clenched again as disbelief flared deep within the admiral’s eyes. He knew Pike was rejecting the news, much as he himself had when McCoy had told him the preliminary findings thirty-eight minutes earlier.
Spock took a quick calming breath before adding, “Considering the circumstances, both Dr. McCoy and I felt it would be best to have the autopsy conducted back at Starfleet Medical.”
“Yes, of course. I understand,” Pike replied immediately. “Have you notified the Pilarian Council yet?”
“No, sir. I… have not notified the crew yet, either,” Spock said, a glimpse of despair flashing in his eyes before being subdued again.
He hadn’t wanted to tell the crew that their captain was dead. Not only did it make the event final, but the emotional results would be overwhelming. As it was, Spock was having a hard enough time blocking out the bridge crew’s emotions while also dealing with his own turbulent thoughts and feelings. Facing an entire starship’s emotional outpouring would almost certainly be more than he could handle.
After all, Kirk knew everyone onboard by face and almost all by name--he'd made it his own personal mission to know everyone who he was working with at least in passing. Everyone on the Enterprise knew of him and respected him well enough to work for him--even those who had looked down on him for his unconventional methods of rising to his captaincy. They had all seen what kind of self-sacrificing leader Kirk was, and even those who’d initially resented him had grown to like him.
Everyone on the ship would grieve the loss of their young captain.
Pike eyed his former first officer knowingly. “They shall need to know why they are returning home, Captain,” he told him quietly.
Spock’s eyes closed for a moment, shoulders tensing at the sound of the title, as all eyes on the bridge turned to look at him. “Understood, sir.”
“Tell the Pilarian Council that we shall be sending another ship within the month to resume discussion of their desires to join the Federation. The Enterprise should return home immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” Spock said. “I’ll have Lieutenant Uhura send you our estimated arrival time once I have consulted with the helm.”
“Good. I’ll… start to make the necessary arrangements here,” Pike replied with a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. “I’ll see you soon, Captain. Pike out.”
The bridge fell silent again as Pike’s image disappeared from the screen, the view once again showing the small red-brown planet of Pilar.
“He’s… he’s really dead?”
Spock turned to face the young female ensign that had spoken. “Yes,” he said softly.
He faced the chair, well-aware of the eyes watching him. He took a deep, silent breath through his nose before sitting. Suppressing the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, he looked to the helm. “Mr. Sulu, how long will it take us to return to Earth if we travel at warp factor one?”
Sulu kept his gaze on his controls as he replied, “Approximately four days, sir.”
Spock nodded once. “Set course, Mr. Sulu, but maintain standard orbit until after we have contacted the Pilarian council.” He activated the ship-wide communicator, pausing momentarily before announcing, “Attention, Enterprise. This is Acting Captain Spock. I regret to inform you that shortly before nineteen hundred hours today, Captain Kirk collapsed while conducting diplomatic business on the surface of Pilar. Despite the medical team’s best efforts, he passed away shortly thereafter.”
And suddenly it was almost too much. A tidal wave of emotions--disbelief, anger, fear, despair, grief--slammed into him, threatening to overwhelm him with its potency. Spock squeezed his eyes shut, rapidly constructing mental barriers to protect him from the rush of emotion. After a moment, he continued, “I have discussed our situation with Admiral Christopher Pike. He has ordered the Enterprise to return to Earth immediately.” He paused to consider his next words before finishing, “Given our current location and planned speed, we should arrive in four days. Spock out.”
Spock switched channels, keeping his voice even as he ordered, “Mr. Scott, please report to the bridge.”
“Aye, sir,” Scott replied through his communicator. “Be up in a wee bit. Scott out.”
Spock nodded once as he switched channels again. “Dr. McCoy, I would request your presence on the bridge.”
“Izzit somethin’ important? Jus’ got off duty.”
Spock’s eyebrows furrowed a little at the slur in the doctor’s voice but replied, “We need to discuss what happened on Pilar.”
There was a moment of silence before McCoy answered, “I’ll be up in a minute.”
“Thank you, doctor. Spock out.”
Spock switched the communicator off and sat back in the chair, propping his elbows on the armrests and pressing his fingers together thoughtfully as he closed his eyes. Exhaling silently through his nose, he forced all thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on strengthening his emotional barrier.
For all intents and purposes, Starfleet Regulation 619 required him to step down as captain because of emotional compromise.
But then, Spock was fairly certain no one onboard the Enterprise would be able to serve as captain without being emotionally compromised at the present moment.
Feeling as adequately prepared as possible, Spock rose from the chair as the turbo lift slid open. Both Scott and McCoy stepped off the lift before the doors had even finished opening. The CMO seemed perfectly sober, but Spock caught sight of a fresh hypo injection mark on the side of McCoy’s neck when the doctor quickly jerked his head to avoid looking at the captain’s chair. The Vulcan suspected that the hypo had contained one of the doctor’s many hangover remedies.
“You wanted t’ see us, sir?” Scott asked, face grim as his eyes shot from the chair to Spock.
Spock nodded once. “Mr. Sulu, come with us. Mr. Chekov, you have the conn.”
“Aye, sir,” the young Russian replied as Sulu rose to his feet.
Spock led the group off the bridge and into the nearby conference room. The others sat around the small table without any prompting. “Gentlemen, this debriefing shall be informal. Please do not hesitate to speak your mind throughout the proceedings,” Spock informed them all.
“You’re gonna leave Pilar without conducting an investigation first?” McCoy demanded immediately.
“Admiral Pike will assign another Starfleet ship to continue our work on Pilar while we return to Earth,” Spock replied.
“Our work? You mean that diplomatic shit that got Jim killed?”
Spock raised an eyebrow slightly in response to McCoy’s anger. “You were the one who informed me the captain’s passing was the result of natural causes. Have you discovered new information pertinent to this discussion?”
McCoy’s shoulders deflated as the others looked at him. He slumped back in his chair, rubbing his face once before letting his hand drop. “No,” he declared wearily.
“Then why this accusation that our diplomatic mission to Pilar led to Jim’s demise?”
The CMO looked up at him sharply, eyes narrowing as he stared at Spock for a moment. “There’s gotta be something I missed, or you missed. You know as well as I do that Jim was healthy as a horse.”
“Perhaps his heart…”
Sulu trailed off as McCoy shook his head violently. “He just had a physical last month, and he passed all the tests, including the cardiac ones, with flying colors. Something’s not right about this whole thing.”
“All due respect, but why’re we here?” Scott interrupted, gesturing to himself and Sulu. “I mean, I’m shocked by all this, too, but…”
“We need to review everything that occurred on Pilar,” Spock answered. “Starting from the moment we beamed down.”
tbc...