Beyond Dreams 4OUT OF PRINT
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From Treasure Trove by
Rosemarie Heaton
Listel put the ground-car into motion, and Kirk and Spock watched as the
vehicle moved slowly down the gravel road that ran from the back of the lodge
towards the river. Kirk chewed at his lip as the Nilisian negotiated the car
round the steep bends until they reached the bridge. Here the vehicle stopped
and Chekov jumped out. He stood for a moment, then walked onto the bridge.
They could see the water splashing around his feet. Kirk shook his head.
"I hope they make it."
"They will," Spock said. "Look."
Chekov was now halfway across the bridge and Listel was edging the car forward
after him. Moments later, the Russian reached the other side and stood out of
the way as the car accelerated past him. Turning towards them, Chekov raised
an arm in triumph. Kirk waved back, the Russian ran to the car and climbed in.
After a few false starts the car began the ascent and soon vanished from sight
into the trees.
"I guess we might as well make ourselves comfortable," Kirk said, after a
moment's silence.
"A good idea, Captain."
"Mmm," Kirk murmured, still not moving away from the door. "What are our
chances of getting out of here tonight?"
"Nil."
"Well, that was unequivocal enough." Kirk grinned at him. "Tomorrow?"
Spock turned to look out into the teeming rain. "There has been heavy rainfall
in the Prdki Mountains for four point five Nilisian days, Jim.” He paused as
though listening to some distant noise.
"And?” Kirk prompted him.
"The Presnid and its tributaries form the main drainage channel for this
region. The river is already dangerously high. I would estimate our chances
for rescue by the road as negligible."
"Why didn't you say that earlier?"
"Would it have changed your decision?"
Kirk thought for a minute. "Probably not. Uhura's the best communications
chief in the sector and Chekov…. Well, he needs the experience of disaster
control work more than we do."
"I agree."
"I thought you might," Kirk said. "What is it you can hear?" he asked just
before a grinding noise reached his own ears.
"That, I believe," Spock said, pointing upstream towards the nearest bend.
"My god.” Kirk watched in awe as the mess of trunks and branches came into
full view. Stunned, he saw the huge tangle sweep downstream to close on the
small wooden bridge, crashing into and over the structure, to hang there for
moments before adding most of their escape route to its already immense burden.
The noise was tremendous and it was some minutes before he could make himself
heard. "Are we safe here?" he asked eventually, but it was the lack of a reply
that drew his attention away from the scene in front of them. Kirk frowned as
he looked at Spock. His first officer was, for him, sheet-white. "Hey? Are you
okay?" he asked gently.
From
Shadow Touch by Deanna Gray
Brown eyes held his. "I love you."
Kirk stared at him.
"I wish to be with you, in all ways."
Kirk couldn't do anything but sit there. His whole being was on overload.
"How long?" he finally stammered.
"I have been aware of my love for you the last one point three five years."
"One point…." He couldn't believe it. Spock had just confessed to love him,
and had for over a year. Why hadn't he seen it before? He was supposed to be
the one with the emotional experience.
"Why didn't you ever tell me, Spock?"
Spock looked at him with such open sadness; it pained his heart to see it.
"Tell you what, Jim? That I fell in love with my captain? With my friend?
There was no point in telling you as there is no future for us. I did not wish
to alienate you in any way."
"You think I'm so shallow, I'd—"
Spock raised a hand. "No, you know I do not think that of you. But I am your
first officer. We could not work together as we must if there were awkwardness
between us. I never wish you to be uncomfortable with me. I want our
friendship to continue as it always has."
"It's already changed for you."
"But it need not for you. Jim, I wish to remain your friend."
"You'll always be my friend, Spock. I don't want anything to happen to that,
either."
"That is a relief." Spock took a deep breath. "We will go on as before."
"Wait a minute, I didn't say that. I can't pretend nothing has happened."
"Nothing has happened."
"My best friend tells me he's in love with me, and you say nothing happened?"
"It is not your concern, Jim. I will deal with my emotions in my own way."
Kirk knew what that meant: lock them up, bury them, deny them.
"I don't think that's a solution."
"It is the only one. Jim, I am well aware of your preference for females. You
do not wish for a male lover. I am also cognizant of your desire to avoid
long-term commitments. Such being the case, I am disqualified as a potential
partner for you. I accept that."
"Spock—"
Suddenly the Vulcan was on his feet. "Captain, the hour is getting late and
you must be tired from your ordeal. I would advise you to rest now."
Before he could protest, Kirk found himself in the corridor, staring at
Spock's closed door. Dazed, he headed for his own cabin and a sleepless night.
From
The Exile by Elise Madrid
The sounds were plainly audible, the door to the connecting room wide open.
McCoy paused behind Komack, who had stopped at the doorway, and looked over the
admiral's shoulder into the darkened room beyond. It only took a second for
McCoy's eyes to adjust to the dim light, to see the two men entangled on the
bed, their bodies in motion.
My god. Oh, my god. He would never forget the sight of his two friends, naked,
their bodies going lax as they found sexual release, or the light laugh and
words so filled with love and satisfaction that escaped Kirk's lips.
"You're wonderful, did you know that?" The soft sigh of words filtered through
the room.
“Yes, well gentlemen, if you’re quite through.” Komack timed it perfectly, his
voice booming through the cabin as he waved the lights to their highest
setting, stepping aside to allow the group behind him to enter the cabin.
Spock spun around, grabbing the covers from the foot of the bed and throwing
them over both of them. They sat up rigidly, too stunned to speak. Kirk stared,
his gaze going from McCoy to Komack and finally settling again on McCoy. The
expression of shocked betrayal totally undid the doctor. “Jim, I—”
“Never mind that, Doctor." Komack cut McCoy off, continuing to look straight
at the two men. “I'm calling a hearing to meet at seven hundred hours in the
briefing room, so I suggest you two start coming up with some kind of defense.
You’re going to need it.” He smiled, unable to resist gloating. “Come,
gentlemen, I think we’ve seen enough. Doctor, you'll be called as a witness so
I expect you to have no contact with these two.” He motioned for the security
guards to follow as he left the room.
The four men remained frozen in place. Finally, Kirk spoke, anger slowly
replacing the numbness of shock. “All right, Bones, what the hell is going on?
Why did you let them in here without warning us?”
McCoy looked from one man to the other. He would never again think that
Spock’s face held no emotion. Without really changing, the Vulcan visage
radiated a smoldering anger. His own sense of betrayal took over and, combined
with the shock of his discovery, turned into a diatribe he let loose on both
men. “Hey, you two. How was I supposed to know that there was anything to warn
you about? And how the hell do you think I felt? Walking in here, seeing you
and Spock…that way. Did it ever occur to either one of you to tell me? Hell
no. Why would it? You’re so god damned wound up in each other. Well, you
played with fire and you got burned. Don’t try to blame me for that.”
From Shall We? by Jenna
Hilary Sinclair
"Have you noticed that Bones is acting a little funny lately?"
Spock paused in the act of bringing a sandwich to his mouth. "Funny? The
doctor's actions often elude my comprehension, but I have not noticed a
tendency to excessive mirth."
"Oh, can it, Spock," Kirk said with a grin. "You know what I mean. Odd. He's
been acting…different."
The Vulcan took a bite of his avocado and peanut butter and chewed it with
deliberation. He continued to hold the sandwich in the air, his fingers
delicately supporting the slices of 'triticale bread so as not to crush its
unique honeycombed structure. No one else ate like Spock did, Kirk had often
thought, with such savoir faire, and he could rarely keep his eyes off his
first officer eating, even when his elbows were planted firmly on the table, a
habit which displayed his long arms and fingers and which Kirk found rather
endearing. Bad table manners for humans, maybe, but endearing.
Spock swallowed, and Kirk watched that, too. "Specify. Define 'different.'"
Kirk waved a fork in the air. The messroom was filled with alpha shift eating
lunch, and no one gave the captain having another one of his animated
conversations with Mister Spock a second glance. The crew was accustomed to
the way Kirk often focused all his attention on his second-in-command, not
only on the bridge but just about everywhere else as well, like a laser beam
locked on target. And the crew was accustomed to Mister Spock following the
captain around like a gosling mistakenly imprinted on a duck.
Or at least that was what Lieutenant Akins from Bio had said one late night
over drinks with two or three of her most trusted friends. Of course, the
witticism spread rapidly, and Spock had been compelled to overhear
lightly-voiced honking noises for the next several weeks. He never had
discovered why, but he could guess, and he turned his imperious mien on junior
personnel until the intrusive avian noises ceased. Kirk, on the other hand,
found out from Bones, who had heard it from his head nurse, who knew an
engineering tech who was dating Akins and was there for the original rendition.
The captain thought the gosling part was pretty funny—he does have a long neck,
doesn't he?—and had slapped his thigh and laughed, but he didn't quite get the
duck part.
Nevertheless, this did not prevent him from inserting animal references into
his speech. "Bones has this 'cat ate the canary' air to him, that's what's
different. He's keeping a secret and I want to know what it is."
From Lematya Lessons by S.R.
Benjamin
"Come."
"Spock, stay seated. I just wanted to speak to you briefly."
I rise and reply, "Of course, Captain."
"Let's sit down," he interrupts with a slight shake of his head. He is focused
on his goal, as telegraphed by his firm strides and the powerful sweep of his
arm as he gestures me to his side on the couch. When I am seated, he leans
forward with his forearms on his knees and announces, "Spock, I want you to
tell me what my experiences leading up to Vulcan were all about."
"I regret my misuse of the soup bowl—" I begin, only to be abruptly cut off.
"I mean my dreams," he states in a tone that will brook no evasion. By
T'Khut's light, anything but this. I thought I could keep information hidden
from him, yet he speaks of his responses to me. I intended to will into
nothingness what I realized. I believed I could not believe.
I was wrong.
My mother, when I was young, taught me stories of articulate animals that
lived in unsavory conditions around sharp objects and spent their days
exchanging thinly veiled social commentary. A phrase attributed to one such
animal rises now to mind: "You kin hide de fire, but w'at you gwine do wid de
smoke?" The lesson in the query of Brer Rabbit is that acknowledgment of the
hidden becomes inevitable.
"What dreams, Jim?" I finally ask. I can see from his darkening expression
that he thinks I am stalling for time. And he is correct.
From Word Play by
Cordelia Naismith and T. Jonesy
Spock arrived at his captain's quarters at precisely oh-eight hundred ready
for their nightly chess game. Kirk was not at his usual place at the
chessboard. In fact, Spock was surprised to note the absence of the chessboard
and, in its place, a large rectangular package.
The soft running of water informed Spock of his captain's location.
"Jim?"
Kirk exited from the bathroom in a robe, his hair still damp from a shower.
"Is this the box you received this morning on the bridge?"
"Yes," Kirk said as he began to dry his hair with a towel. "My mother sent it
to me. She was cleaning out the attic and asked if I wanted it."
Kirk pulled out a well-worn box with the name SCRABBLE incised on the cover.
"It was Sam's. I couldn't let her throw it out."
"Scrabble?"
"It's a word game, Spock. Would you like to play?"
"I have never played this game. May I see the rules?"
"I can tell you the rules, Spock. Sam and I used to play this game all the
time."
"I have heard this statement from you before. Please hand me the rules, Jim."
From When It Alteration
Finds by Islaofhope
"This has nothing to do with our estrangement," Kirk said, his chin lifting,
but there was no sign of emotion on his handsome face, not anger, not sadness,
nor defiance. "I made a command decision, Spock. I may not be the same man I
was during our first five-year mission together, but I'm still a starship
captain. I deny that I reacted emotionally. I did what I had to do."
Spock swallowed. "When you ordered Mr. Sulu to—"
"I did what I had to do," Kirk said again, and his voice was level as though
they had been discussing crew assignments instead of the willful destruction
of the Orion fleet. Spock's mouth was dry, and he could only watch silently as
Kirk stood up. "Thank you for the massage. I think that I'm ready to sleep now."
He walked across the room, but he paused in the doorway to their private
quarters without turning. "I do love you, Spock. Nothing will ever change
that."
Spock looked down at his hands gripped together in his lap. He waited for his
mate to turn, to ask him if he was coming to bed, too, but Kirk did not turn.
"Good night, sir. Sleep well," Spock said, unable to follow his beloved into
the sleeping area. He sat very still, imagining Jim stripping off his clothes,
settling into their bed, and pulling the covers up. After a time, Spock walked
in, and he was relieved to discover that Kirk had fallen asleep almost
immediately. He brushed his lips against the cool forehead, but the sleeping
man did not stir.
From
One Night by Jenna Sinclair
(A story from the Sharing the Sunlight series)
Don't ask me why I love him. Do you ask why a comet rockets towards the sun
and glory? That's how I think of him; my glorious lover is a comet streaking
through the universe, he's aflame with the fire of life, glowing with
integrity, intelligence, honesty, and those banked flames of passion that he
releases only for me.
Only for me. No one else has ever seen him as he truly is. No one could tell
just by looking. Comets are dark and icy, most of the time, in their faraway,
solitary orbits. Their splendor is hidden.
I found him right away, as I thought I might. No matter that the bond was
ripped away from us almost a year ago, I still heard his quiet voice the
minute I materialized in the safe coordinates of the hotel lobby. You might
call it serendipity, that he just happened to be there sitting at a lounge
table with three other men when I was released from the transporter beam. I
would prefer to think that there is still a connection between us, however
tenuous, and by whatever name you want to call it: the bond, the zhisen of the
ancient Vulcans, or maybe just that deep familiarity you gain of a person who
has become the other half of your soul. I looked around the white marble of
the New Delhi Radisson hotel, and there he was.
I could have walked up behind him and surprised him with a hand on his
shoulder, but I would never do that to him. God knows, I test his control
often enough in other situations. So instead I took the long way around the
edges of the gilt ostentation of that four hundred year old lobby and didn't
start to walk towards him until I was fully in his view.
He looked up and saw me, and of course I smiled. Couldn't help it. Damn, I was
glad to see him after a three week separation, and the news I carried with me
was clamoring to be shared. And needed to be discussed, too. I've never
pretended to the control of a Vulcan, just that of a starship captain, and
starship captains smile when they see their lover and a jolt of lust and love
and pride and possessiveness and plain old happiness takes residence in their
chest.
God, he looked good. Relaxed and confident in his dress uniform, just the way
I like to see him, without any tension to etch wrinkles in his brow. As soon
as he saw me that little smile danced in his eyes. I don't know how he does
that trick, smiling without smiling, but it warmed me even across the distance
that still separated us. He murmured something to the other men and got up,
but by then I was there, before him.
"Captain." A respectful salutation that nevertheless held all his affection
for me. Sometimes he even calls me captain in bed. He likes calling me that.
"Commander." I matched his affection with every syllable.