(no subject)
Fresh Air
Chapter 4 - A Rousing Campfire
Rating: PG
Universe: TOS
summary: The Enterprise crew takes a shore leave at Yosemite National Park. Fishing, star gazing, romance and hilarity ensue.
Disclaimer: We do not own anything Star Trek related
The fact that Kirk had been able to successfully start a fire without his phaser was something seriously worth celebrating. Kirk was beaming, admiring his handiwork. McCoy shook his head, amused by Kirk’s pride at accomplishing such a basic task. Spock seemed lost in thought as he gazed transfixed at the crackling flames. Scotty was laughing with Uhura at his own joke, but Sulu had not heard the punch line. Despite his own silence, Sulu felt at peace with his friends in this unfamiliar environment. He looked to his right to give Chekov a friendly smile, only to see him wrapped in a blanket, holding a plate full of fish bones and looking slightly sulky.
“What’s the matter, Chekov?” Kirk asked playfully as he noticed Chekov in his blanket. “Still cold from your little swim earlier?”
The circle laughed, recalling the image of Sulu and Chekov stomping through the meadow, sopping wet and carrying a wriggling fish.
Sulu grimaced slightly with embarrassment. Perhaps only a few months ago, the scene would have been hilarious to Sulu, but now it was simply a memory of emotional conflict. While he had felt sorry for Chekov and his damaged ego, Sulu could not help but pay attention to the way Chekov’s wet clothes clung to him and how strangely adorable it was to see his bowl cut plastered to his face. He’d withheld the urge to reach up and brush Chekov’s bangs away from his face. Instead, he loyally carried Chekov’s fish and followed him to the tent to change into dry clothes.
“Nonsense. I am Russian,” Chekov replied indignantly. “This is nothing.” Kirk simply smiled.
“Well, at least we were able to hold onto our fish without cheating,” Sulu said defensively.
Kirk’s grin faded slightly. Kirk had told the campfire circle earlier about how he and Scotty had struggled to hold onto the small, slippery trout he had caught, only to scramble frantically on his hands and knees after the fish had fallen out of his hands. The fish had flopped along the shore and almost reached the lake, when it was stopped just in time by Spock’s Vulcan pinch. At the time, the event was presented as a humorous anecdote, but now Kirk realized that the story was being turned against him.
“Using the Vulcan isn’t cheating,” Scotty retorted. “It’s being resourceful!”
Everyone chuckled, letting the sound of the fire wash over them in a slightly awkward silence.
“So, what do we do now?” Uhura asked the group.
“What do you mean?” Sulu asked, slightly confused.
“Well, we have our campfire. What do people usually do at a campfire?”
“They tell ghost stories, lassie!” Scotty said cheerfully. The atmosphere around the fire became eager and excited. Chekov sat up a little straighter, wrapping the blanket around him even more tightly. Everyone looked to Scotty, ready for a fantastic tale. Spock, however, looked confused.
“Ghost stories, Mr. Scott?”
“You know, Mr. Spock! Haunted places, ghosts and ghouls? Tales from the black abyss!” Scotty’s eyes grew wide and he drew his face closer to the flames for dramatic effect. Spock looked unimpressed.
“These stories are told in order to create a frightening atmosphere?” he questioned.
“Aye, that they are!” Scotty said cheerfully.
“But how can-” Spock began.
“Spock. Let him tell the story,” Kirk kindly interrupted his friend. Spock closed his mouth, looked at Kirk, and then folded his arms, ready to listen.
Scotty recognized that all eyes were on him, and Sulu could tell that he was enjoying the attention. The engineer rose from his seat and began to sweep the circle.
“This is the tale,” he began in a harsh whisper, “of a Starfleet crew, not much unlike you all sitting here, and their encounter with the most frightening menace of this galaxy. The crew of the USS Farragut was a solid, brilliant crew-“
“The Farragut?!” Sulu interrupted without thinking. “Well, they deserve whatever’s coming to them for piloting that piece of tin.”
“Yeah, I know it’s a waste of a ship, lad,” Scotty replied, temporarily forgetting the story. “Can you believe they upgraded that ship rather than ours? I mean, it’s a miracle it gets off the ground-”
“Mr. Scott,” Kirk said, smiling.
“Hm?” Scotty looked at Kirk, confused.
“Your story? You were just getting started.”
“Oh,” he replied, betraying his disappointment at having to move away from shop-talk, “right, where was I? Oh yes, the Farragut. They were a brave crew, and had faced many trials before. But as courageous as they were, nothing they had faced could have prepared them for…”
Scotty trailed off and looked up at his crewmates. Uhura was clutching at a blanket and staring up at him, her eyes widened with anticipation. Kirk and Dr. McCoy seemed equally interested, and even Spock had raised one eyebrow. Somehow Chekov had ended up sitting very close to Sulu, shoulders touching.
“…the haunting of their lives!” Scotty resumed his storytelling after a lengthy dramatic pause. “Starfleet had assigned the Farragut to patrol the neutral zone. Things were going as planned, when one day, some of the crewmen reported strange happenings. One of the yeomen in Engineering had heard a mysterious purring sound…but when he checked the machines, he realized they were operating under normal conditions. But the purring got louder…and louder…but there was nothing he could do to stop it! Then, all of a sudden, the purring turned into a loud screech…and then all was silent.”
“But Scotty,” Kirk interrupted. His tone was kind, yet one of skepticism. “We encounter things like this all of the time.”
“Captain,” Scotty replied, exasperated, “I assure you we haven’t - fortunately.” He grinned in the firelight, restoring the creepy atmosphere. Kirk shrugged, reclining in order to listen once more.
“As I was saying,” Scotty continued, “the yeoman asked his commanding officer in Engineering if he had heard the noise, but he had not heard a thing. He then went straight to the Captain to report what had happened. But his Captain was a proud, arrogant man, and did not listen.” He shot a smug look at Kirk, who folded his arms haughtily. “After that, were quiet enough on the Farragut…for a time. A week later, another Engineering officer heard the sound again, ending with a gut-wrenching screech, just like before. But what he did not know was that at that exact same on the other side of the ship, a patient in sickbay was listening to the exact same noise. The Captain was warned again, but he still did nothing.
“From that point on, crew members from all parts of the ship came to him at the same time every day, each telling him the same tale of the mysterious screech. His First Officer begged him to do something about it, but he refused. ‘Hah,’ he said, ‘the crew of the Farragut isn’t about to be scared away by a little noise!’ But the crew became more and more uneasy, and reports of the noise were increasing. Still, the arrogant Captain refused to report it to Starfleet.
“One night, the Captain retired to his quarters very late, long after the rest of the crew had left their posts. He was just about ready to go to sleep and was reading a technical journal, my favorite one, in fact! It’s the one with the article about the-”
“Scotty!” Uhura exclaimed, giving him an impatient look.
“I’m getting to it, lassie! Anyway, he was enjoying the journal when all at once, he heard a soft purring. He ignored it at first, but it continued, slowly getting louder… and louder… Suddenly, the Captain felt a chill down to his very bones as he remembered his crewmen’s stories of the ghastly purring. As he sat there in bed, the purring got worse and worse until he could feel the walls of his quarters shaking with the force of the sound. He began to feel something soft crawling up his arms very, very slowly…to his shoulders, to his neck, and then to his face. And then, the horrible purring rose into a blood-curdling screech! However, it was not just one screech, but hundreds, maybe thousands of infernal screams from the beyond shaking the walls of the little room! When the Captain could not bear the noise any longer, he felt something soft and furry covering his mouth. He tried and tried to wrench it away from his face, but he couldn’t grab onto anything. Yet, he still felt as if his mouth was covered, and he couldn’t breathe. He struggled and fought against it, but the ghostly, furry thing would not go away, and the screeching was getting louder and louder.
“The next morning, his first officer found him dead in his quarters, apparently suffocated by nothing. But in truth, the Captain was the victim…of the ghosts of poisoned tribbles, exacting their gruesome revenge on Starfleet!”
As Scotty spoke, the fire popped loudly, unleashing a shower of hot sparks that littered the campfire like an onslaught of tribbles. Uhura gasped, caught between genuine terror and a hint of laughter. Kirk smiled; clearly the story was Scotty’s way of providing social commentary. He gave McCoy a smile of approval and McCoy copied it, looking at Scotty. Spock sat next to McCoy, apparently asleep. Affronted, Scotty scowled and turned to look at Chekov, who was clutching Sulu’s arm for dear life; Sulu looked startled, but strangely pleased.
Once upon a happier time, Sulu would have laughed at the climax to Scotty's story, but the engineer had chosen the tale wisely: the crew had only recently escaped those poisoned tribbles. Sulu could still recall that high-pitched shriek that the infernal animals made when a Klingon was nearby. The critters had been brought on supposedly because they were cute, but everyone had learned very quickly just how terrifying they were when they multiplied. Although Sulu wouldn’t the first one to admit it, Scotty's story made tribbles even scarier.
At least I don’t show my fear, Sulu thought gratefully. He looked at Chekov with disbelief. His friend looked small and pale, and clearly terrified by Scotty’s story. Sulu felt his arm throbbing from Chekov’s firm grip.
Biting his lip, Sulu gently pried Chekov’s hand away from his arm and guided it to the ground. His pulse quickened as he kept his hand on top of Chekov’s. He wanted to do something more: put his arm around him, lean on Chekov’s shoulder, but he was grounded by his hand on top of Chekov’s in the dirt of the meadow.
Chekov’s mind was racing. The image of ghostly tribbles, floating around the bridge, shrieking and suffocating his comrades was nearly unbearable. The sound of purring blended with screaming in his mind and he felt consumed by his imagination.
He was suddenly pulled into the present by the sensation of warm fingers on top of his own that were guiding his hand to the dirt. The image of floating tribbles seemed to dissipate. He stared at the ground, feeling slightly foolish for reacting so dramatically to Scotty’s story.
The firelight illuminated the image of his hand underneath someone else’s hand… Sulu’s hand. Sulu, his best friend. He knew that most of the crew enjoyed teasing him and making jokes at his expense, but Sulu was always there for him. He was never cruel - in fact, Sulu was the only one who defended him.
Gratefulness washed over him, and he attempted to convey his feelings as he looked his friend in the eye. Sulu caught Chekov’s gaze and smiled slightly. Chekov felt his face flush, but he did not look away.
There was something inviting about Sulu’s expression. There was warmth there and comfort that he had always taken for granted. That look was so familiar to him, and yet now it felt different.
No, he felt different. What was happening to him? Scared by furry tribbles and comforted beyond belief by the simple touch of Sulu’s hand! The world was an absurd and confusing place, and this small physical contact with Sulu was making things much more complex.
But it shouldn’t be; it’s just Sulu, he thought. But it is, he countered. It was an overwhelming prospect. What is different?
He recalled the past several months and every incident with Sulu he could remember. Flashes of sitting at the control panel came to the forefront of his mind; the feeling of surprise when their hands bumped each other on the control panel; the sidelong glances Sulu always gave him when Captain Kirk laughed at his own jokes; the ordeal in the elevator as Sulu slammed the stop button; Sulu hoisting him back into the canoe. His face flushed again with that last memory, and suddenly Chekov realized: somehow, in a way he probably would never understand, he had fallen for his best friend. The idea was simultaneously awkward and fitting. The words were unfamiliar, but the feelings made sense - as if they had always been there.
“Well, I think we ought to be getting to sleep,” Kirk’s voice brought Chekov back from the depths of his thoughts. Sulu jumped slightly and Chekov felt the top of his hand become cold as Sulu pulled away. Everyone else nodded sleepily. Scotty gave a thespian bow and departed. Uhura rose from her seat and followed suit.
Sulu got up, and let out a long yawn, stretching as he walked. He had walked several meters when he stopped and turned around to call after Chekov.
“Are you coming?” he asked.
“Hm? Oh, right,” Chekov responded quietly. Half-dazed, he stood up and wrapped his blanket around him, trudging to catch up to Sulu. He suddenly felt awkward as he fell in step with his friend. Forget it, he told himself. He’s just a friend. He hasn’t changed, just you, so forget it. Forget it.
“Come on,” Sulu said as Chekov reached him, “let’s go for a walk.”
Chekov nodded, determined to ignore the arguing thoughts in his head. He followed Sulu as he led him into the black of the night, leaving McCoy, Spock and Kirk in their wake.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 (with links to 1 and 2) | Chapter 4 | Chapter Five