#it may also be the fact that with star trek i feel less confined by the word ship than with mash | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

per-ineptia-ad-astra · 4 years

Text

fixing The Menagerie

The circumstances behind The Menagerie pose an interesting writing problem: how do you take an already shot, totally completed episode for an earlier version of a TV show that differs considerably from the version that actually made it to air, and turn it into an episode that you can use now, as part of that later version, in a way that actually makes sense for your audience? That would be challenging enough without the additional problems that 1.) you can't reshoot any of the original episode because you no longer have access to the sets, costumes, most of the cast, etc., and 2.) the whole reason you're doing this in the first place is because you can't get a completely new episode out in time to meet your air date, so whatever your framing device is it has to be something that can be shot and finished very quickly--and cheaply, because at absolutely no point in the making of this show has there been spare money to throw around.

When I recapped The Menagerie (eons ago, it now seems) I said in the conclusion to the second part that I thought the framing device used wasn't as effective as it could have been. So, I figured I’d put my money where my mouth was and see if I could come up with another one. Before I start I want to put out the same disclaimer I used for the Return of the Archons post: I am not a professional TV writer (or a professional anything) and I intend this only as a fun exercise and not an angry and serious screed about the writing quality of TOS, which I do very much love for being what it is. I can only offer what, in my opinion, would make a more enjoyable episode, which may not necessarily be what you would find to be a more enjoyable episode. And if you already greatly enjoy The Menagerie as it is, you probably won’t want to read this.

For the purposes of this post, I’m going to take The Cage itself as written. It has its own problems, and that might be worth its own post at some point, but I’m not going to take it on here. We’ll assume The Cage exists exactly as it was produced, and the problem now is entirely focused on how to turn it into an episode—or two—of TOS.

(And, just to get it out of the way: I’m not going to talk about how either The Cage or The Menagerie play into Discovery, AOS, or the rest of Star Trek in general. It’s obviously a very important episode backstory-wise, but for this, right now, I’m just going talk about it purely as a TOS episode.)

So, with that out of the way, let’s talk about The Menagerie for a moment. What’s wrong with it?

Well, the framing device could certainly have been worse. It’s not terrible. Hell, Part I even won a Hugo, so, guess I’m up against the Hugo committee on this one. But, there are a number of things that I find awkward about it.

In a general sense, there’s the way that, once the flashbacks start, the story is attempting to maintain two separate threads of tension: the flashback story, with the tension being on what’s going to happen to Pike, and the present-day story, with the tension being on what Spock is doing, why he’s doing it, and whether he’s going to wind up getting the death penalty for it. This second thread starts out well—by this point in TOS, we’ve gotten to know Spock well enough to know how out of character all this is for him, which makes the mystery quite gripping. However, once the flashback starts, the story struggles to maintain the tension of this second thread. The attempt to keep the present-day story as tense as the past story only results in breaks away from the action for scenes in the courtroom where something or someone stops Spock from showing the footage, which never results in anything because by the next commercial break they’re back at it. Most of these interruptions are either arbitrary (the screen goes off for no reason and then comes on again for no reason; fake!Mendez randomly decides he’s had enough and tries to stop things) or just not that interesting (Pike fell asleep), and with each one it only becomes more obvious that the only real purpose they’re serving is to pad out the framing story.

The resolution of the present-day story is also rather unsatisfying for a lot of reasons. After so much tension built up about what’s going on and why Spock is acting this way and is his life on the line and is Kirk’s career on the line and how’s he going to get out of this...it turns out that Mendez has been fake this whole time, so nothing he said or did since Kirk left the Starbase matters at all; Starfleet casually waves the whole thing aside with no repercussions, making all the build-up about Spock risking the only death penalty remaining in the Federation mean nothing whatsoever in the end; and we never really get a satisfactory answer as to why Spock insisted on carrying out his court martial the way he did. Sure, eventually the Keeper says the whole court martial was basically staged to stall Kirk so he wouldn’t focus on getting control of his ship back, but not only does that raise further questions—if Mendez was only ever an illusion sent by the Talosians, why did he try to stop the court martial several times? Why did the Talosians turn off the footage at a crucial point, and why did it come on again?--there’s also no reason given why Spock couldn’t just recount what happened himself, which could have taken up enough time if he was careful enough about it, instead of needing the Talosians to broadcast a video version of the events.

There’s also the simple fact that Pike’s ending is itself rather dubious. I suppose this one comes down to a difference of opinion between me and Gene Roddenberry (one of many) since both The Cage and The Menagerie end with a character going to permanently stay with the Talosians, with no concern at all expressed about the fact that the Talosians are cruel, torture-happy, and frankly insufferable wannabe-slavemasters who see humans as nothing more than brute animals to be caged, bred and make to work. I said I wasn’t going to tackle The Cage here so I won’t go off about its ending, no matter how much it pisses me off. But The Menagerie is also at fault here, because it needlessly repeats the exact same problem (with a bit less sexism, but still). The ending of The Menagerie gives us no sign that the Talosians have reformed in any way, and no explanation as to why they suddenly care so much about Pike to go to all this trouble for him. We’re just expected to believe that Pike’s gonna go have a nice happy illusion-life with them even though the last time we saw them they were trying to breed a race of human slaves. Really, Gene? Really?

On that note, the treatment of disability in both The Cage and The Menagerie bothers me a great deal. The effect of Pike becoming disabled is to essentially strip him of all his autonomy. I mean no disrespect to Sean Kenney here, but if they’d replaced him with a mannequin it wouldn’t have made any difference at all to the episode, because in The Menagerie Pike is not a character, he’s a prop. We’re assured repeatedly that Pike thinks and feels as much as he ever did, but we have to be told that by other characters because the episode certainly never takes any opportunity to let us in on any of it. Here’s the sum total of what we know Pike thinks about the events of The Menagerie:

1. He doesn’t want to visit with Kirk and McCoy at the beginning of the episode but allows Spock to stay.

2. He tells Spock “no” when Spock tells him his plan.

3. He keeps repeating “no” the rest of that day, which everyone is confused by but no one makes any effort to understand.

4. He falls asleep at one point.

5. He votes for a guilty verdict for Spock during the court martial, when asked.

6. He says “yes” when asked if he wants to go live with the Talosians.

Pike is treated with sympathy and the respect due to his rank and history, but mostly he’s an object of pity. We’re told he can move his chair himself, but he appears to be confined to one small hospital room that’s not even set up for his needs, and he spends the entire episode being moved around by other people. Everyone talks about how bad his situation is, but only Spock attempts to do anything to improve it—and he does so knowing that Pike doesn’t want him to do it. When Pike tells him “No,” Spock doesn’t ask any questions, he doesn’t try to find out what part of this whole thing Pike is objecting to, he just overrides Pike’s objection on the assumption that Pike is only concerned about Spock doing something so very illegal, a concern he pretty much disregards. He turns out to be right—as far as we can tell—but for all the information Spock has at the time, Pike might have been saying, “No, I don’t want to live with the Talosians.”

It doesn’t need to be that way. Pike’s condition is certainly very severe, but as I mentioned in the recap, there are plenty of other things that could have been done for him, or at least attempted. And even if none of those were done, there are other ways that the episode could have developed his character, or at least treated him like a character. Spock’s discussion at the beginning of the episode could have been a mind meld that allowed us to hear Pike’s thoughts on the matter. Spock could have heard his objections and addressed them, and he and Pike could have come to come to an agreement and actually become co-conspirators instead of Pike spending the entire episode as a helpless hostage to Spock’s plan. We could have gotten a scene of Pike and McCoy interacting after Spock tells McCoy to look after Pike—McCoy’s not only highly suspicious at that point and unlikely to be greatly put off by Spock's order to not ask Pike any questions, he’s also the one who gives a whole speech about how cruel it is that Pike “can’t reach out, and no one can reach in”--so give us a scene where he does reach out! We could have had a scene of Kirk talking with Pike—he’s certainly got plenty to ask the man about, both in general and in regard to the current situation. All he has to do is put a little extra work into how to frame his questions. The Talosians could have delivered a message from Pike at the end, or one of them could have astral-projected in earlier to have a telepathic exchange with him. We could have seen Pike express himself by moving his chair, turning towards or away people when they talk to him, interjecting a “yes” or “no” into a conversation instead of only replying when asked something, or repeating a response incessantly to show that he’s emphatic about something. (Yeah, we kinda get the latter when he’s saying “no” over and over early in the episode, but that’s only treated as a “what could he possibly be trying to communicate??? oh, if only we knew!” moment.) There were so many ways Pike could have been treated as a character, as a person, instead of a plot element who exists to be pushed around in his chair and have speeches made about how tragic his situation is.

Both The Cage and The Menagerie end with a character who is disabled choosing to spend the rest of their lives isolated from the entire rest of humanity on a barren planet inhabited by jackass aliens because, as everyone around them nods and solemnly agrees, that’s a better fate for them than living among human society. To be clear, it’s not Pike and Vina seeking solutions to their problems that I object to. If Vina wants to be represented by what is essentially an avatar of her own choosing, or if Pike feels that an illusory world offers better quality of life for him, that’s entirely their right. But when life with the Talosians is set up as a situation so horrible that we see four characters literally willing to die rather than remain on Talos 4, and then have two disabled characters say “actually it’s better this way if I stay here,” you kind of wind up with a message that looks a lot like “being disabled is a fate worse than death.” I doubt that was intentional, at least not entirely, since we see other disabled characters in TOS who are treated considerably better—but there it is, all the same.

This is not to say that there’s nothing of value in The Menagerie’s framing story. The tension between Kirk wanting to trust his friend but being forced to act in authority over him because he’s undeniably done something very seriously against the rules, and he won’t tell Kirk why, is great while it lasts. Spock’s character is expanded considerably by showing us that there are some things he places above his honor and obligations as a Starfleet officer—and indeed above his own life. We see a bit of his history, a glimpse of a relationship with a former captain that he respects so much that Spock will put everything on the line to secure a better future for him; and we see how much he respects and values Kirk, that he foregoes the chance to explain himself—and thus gain an ally and aid in his cause—because to do so would put Kirk in danger as well. And we get that great little moment where Spock tells McCoy to call security on him and McCoy has absolutely no idea how to react. And we get backstory! And kind-of-continuity! Okay, it’s not much backstory, but by TOS standards it’s practically a goldmine.

I don’t want to throw all that away. But I think there must be some way to address the problems without totally losing the good parts.

It’s only fair, though, that any attempt to improve the episode should keep in mind the circumstances it was made under. I don’t know enough about budgeting and producing TV in the 1960s either generally in or in this specific case to know exactly what was available to them when it came to producing The Menagerie, so I’m just going to try to deduce roughly what we might have to work with based on what what was in the finished episodes:

Much of Part I and all of Part II take place in preexisting sets, either the Enterprise ones or the shuttlecraft interior set. The new sets include the Starbase 11 exterior—which is mostly a matte painting—Mendez’s office, Pike’s hospital room, and the Starbase computer room. The computer room is a redressed Engineering set; I suspect the hospital room is also a redressed existing set, but I don’t know for sure. It’s quite simple regardless, and is clearly mostly using existing pieces (the bed and the chair). Mendez’s office is likewise set up with pretty standard preexisting TOS set dressing pieces, with the exception of some cut-outs outside the window standing in for the Starbase exterior.

Discounting any background extras we have five new characters: Commodore Mendez, Piper, Chief Humbolt (the computer room guy), Lt. Hansen, and Pike himself. Of these, only Mendez and Pike have much significant screen time. So, we can assume that hiring an extensive guest cast is probably not on the table here.

Most of the original cast from The Cage are probably not available. Pike we know is definitely out—Jeffrey Hunter wasn’t willing to come back after The Cage failed, and probably would have been too expensive to hire for two episodes anyway. Leonard Nimoy and Majel Barrett were, obviously, still working on TOS, so presumably we could incorporate past-Spock and Number One if we really needed to. Since Malachi Throne was also on hand for The Menagerie, we could record new dialogue for the Keeper (as The Menagerie did indeed do), but presumably no new footage (Throne voiced the Keeper, but they and all the other Talosians were portrayed onscreen by female actors). I don’t know if any of the other original cast could have been gotten back, but since they weren’t, let’s assume we can’t use them.

Let’s also assume that all of the sets, costumes, makeup, etc., from The Cage are inaccessible. In reality I’m sure at least something was still kicking around in storage somewhere, or was reused for TOS, but there’s no point in trying to figure out exactly what, so for simplicity’s sake we’ll say anything we might want to use from The Cage has to be recreated from scratch, and if it can’t be then we can’t use it.

Because the entire reason this is going on in the first place is because the effects work was making TOS run behind schedule, we can’t have much in the way of effects for The Menagerie, especially post-production effects. There’s a shot of the planet Starbase 11 is on, a matte painting for the Starbase 11 exterior, a couple uses of the transporter, Pike’s chair and makeup, some shots of the Enterprise and the shuttle flying around in space, and some things being shown on screens—and I think that’s more or less about it.

So. If I was told that I had to take The Cage and wrap it up as a TOS episode with the above restrictions in mind, here’s some things I would keep in mind:

If we look at this from a starting-from-scratch perspective, it seems to me that if you have an episode that you need to incorporate into your main show that has an almost entirely different cast, and one of the characters from your original episode, who has never once been seen or even referenced in your main show, is played by an actor that you can’t get back, the simplest thing to do is to not show that character. We don’t actually need Pike himself to be onscreen for The Menagerie. That he would be at least mentioned in some capacity, sure, but we do in fact have the opportunity to avoid putting some poor dude through five hours of makeup by simply having Pike remain offscreen. We'll probably wind up putting someone else through five hours of makeup, but we'll get to that in a bit.

For me at least, if the Talosians are going to re-appear, they either need to still be villains in some sense or we need to know that they have begun to change their behavior in some way. To have them simply show up again and be treated as friendly after everything that happened in The Cage, with absolutely no acknowledgment of the fact that they did do everything they did in The Cage...it just doesn’t make sense, and it’s much too distracting for me to get past.

Although I’ve set the rule that I’m not going to change The Cage itself, The Menagerie being a sequel to those events opens up the opportunity to follow up on the ending of The Cage in a different direction. In other words, I’m going to rescue Vina, because her fate in The Cage really, really bothers me.

Insisting on the preexisting footage being literally shown as a video in-universe has always felt pointlessly awkward to me. It’s so weird that the characters have to stop and go, “Hang on, what? Where’d this come from? This can’t possibly be security footage. Why does it have different camera angles?” to forestall the exact same questions the audience were probably having at that point. And, as I said above, there’s really not a good explanation as to why the footage did have to be shown in that manner. It seems to me that it would be much simpler to have the flashback footage be just that: a flashback. A story which is being recounted, but not literally shown, in-universe. By doing so you avoid having to open up a bunch of dead-end plot threads about why the footage looks the way it does and is being shown the way it does. I think we can give the audience at least enough credit to assume they’ll understand that if a character starts recounting an event, and the scene cuts to footage of that event, that footage is a representation of what the character is saying, not literally something being shown in-universe.

I’m not going to bother with the whole “going to Talos 4 warrants the death penalty!!” thing. It doesn’t make a great deal of sense to begin with, and it never actually pays off in The Menagerie. We can manage a better source of tension than that, I think.

All of this would ultimately take my version of The Menagerie in a pretty different direction than the actual episode, I admit. It's a rather drastic change, but, if I was tasked with writing a framing story for using The Cage in TOS, here's how I'd do it:

The Enterprise is out tooling around doing their usual business when Uhura picks up a distress call from a ship stranded in space. It’s very faint, distant, and there’s something odd about it, but of course they’re gonna follow up on it because that’s how they roll. So they head off in the direction of the call, but the funny thing is that as they get closer, Uhura says that the source of the distress call appears to be moving around. They follow it, send some hails, and finally get back a scratchy, staticky response: it’s coming from a ship that’s been heavily damaged, and the crew is no longer able to steer it, so it’s drifting erratically through space. Kirk has Uhura send a hail: “We’ve received your signal. Keep broadcasting it and we’ll find you.”

They keep following the ship. It’s difficult—the call is weak, and the Enterprise has to go carefully or risk overshooting it. After they’ve been chasing it for a while, Spock points out that they should be wary of entering a nearby star system, because it contains a planet all Federation ships are warned to avoid. Kirk, of course, doesn’t want to give up on the damaged ship, but Spock steps over to his chair and quietly says, “Captain...I should warn you that it may be the lesser of two evils to abandon this ship, rather than risk going too close to Talos 4.”

Kirk, of course, is stunned to hear Spock say this, and asks what makes Talos 4 so dangerous. Spock says it would take rather a long time to explain. Kirk says that Spock almost sounds like he’s familiar with the place, and Spock replies, “More than familiar, captain. I’ve been there before.”

[dramatic sting, cut to commercial]

Since it looks like the damaged ship will take a while to track down, Kirk has McCoy, Scotty and Spock convene in a briefing room to hear Spock’s story. Spock gives a short introduction: “What I am about to tell you, gentlemen, occurred as I said thirteen years ago, when the Enterprise was under the command of Captain Christopher Pike. I’ve pulled up the log entries of Captain Pike pertaining to this time to provide his own perspective on the matter, as it was he that had the closest encounter with the Talosians. At the time, the Enterprise had only recently escaped a disastrous encounter on Rigel 7 which had resulted in the deaths of three crewmen and injuries to several more, including myself. Some of the injuries were beyond the capacity of the ship’s doctors to treat, so we were en route to the Vega colony for treatment when we began receiving a distress signal...”

Spock’s voice-over fades out over a transition to the Cage footage. We watch that--perhaps interspersed with the occasional bit of narration from Spock, or a question from Kirk or McCoy or Scotty--until about the point where the landing party encounters the fake survivors' camp and Pike is captured by the Talosians. Then Spock is suddenly interrupted by Sulu calling Kirk to the bridge. Everyone hurries up to the bridge, where Uhura reports that the distress call has suddenly disappeared. Sulu says it's not just that: somehow, he doesn't understand how or why, his sensors are suddenly showing that they're not on the same course or even in the same place that they were only moments ago. Somehow, they've wound up in the Talos star system--and they're heading directly for Talos 4.

"It is just as I feared," Spock says gravely. "This has all been a trap."

Kirk orders Sulu to change course, and he tries—but somehow the ship doesn’t divert even a little. It’s like the helm just isn’t responding. Kirk does all the usual things, telling Scotty to do something, etc, nothing’s working, and then Uhura reports that they’re receiving a hail. And it appears to be coming from Talos IV.

Naturally Kirk tells her to put it on. The voice on the other end is staticky and faint. "Greetings. Is this...the Enterprise?"

"This is the Enterprise. I'm Captain James Kirk."

Silence for a moment. Then the voice on the other end, obviously surprised, says, "Captain Kirk? Not Captain Pike?"

"Captain Pike no longer commands this vessel."

There's a long pause. "I see. We were...in error. We apologize for the deception, Captain Kirk. It was important that we bring Captain Pike to this planet, but we feared that his...past experiences here...would leave him unwilling to come close enough to hear our message.”

“That would be a most logical decision for Captain Pike, were he here,” Spock says coldly. “Considering the nature of those experiences.”

“You speak as though you are familiar with what transpired here before, then.”

“I am First Officer Spock. I was present aboard the Enterprise as Science Officer during the events thirteen years ago.”

There’s an even longer pause. When the voice returns, the signal is even more crackly than ever. “Our apologies, this communication is...difficult to maintain. We must wait to deliver the message in full until you are...closer to our planet. However...until then...you may be assured, Spock...that this time...” [pause for more crackling] “This time...the intent of the Talosians...is peaceful.”

The signal cuts out, and Uhura can’t get it back. The ship appears to still be locked on course for Talos 4. With seemingly nothing else to do for the moment but wait, everyone goes back to the briefing room, where Spock continues recounting Pike’s story.

At some point, Spock has to pause so everyone can go take a break, and everyone else files out of the room while he remains behind for a moment, staring at the computer contemplatively. Then suddenly, we hear a voice saying, “Spock--” and Spock turns around in surprise. We can’t see exactly what he’s looking at, only a soft glow at the edge of the camera, and then the scene cuts away.

Kirk’s grabbing a nap in his quarters when he’s woken by an urgent message: they’re still some way from Talos 4, but the ship appears to have stopped moving all on its own. He hurries up to the bridge, where Sulu tells him that it seems like they’re having some kind of computer error with the helm, but they can’t track it down yet. In the middle of all this, Uhura whirls around and exclaims, “Sir! Shuttle bay reports Mr. Spock has knocked out the tech on duty and is boarding one of the shuttles!” Kirk yells for security to get down there, but they are, of course, too late: Spock rigged the shuttle bay doors to open automatically and flies out before they can stop him.

Stunned and confused, Kirk orders Uhura to raise the shuttle, which she does.

“Spock, are you out of your mind?!”

“Negative, captain. My reasoning is quite sound, though I regret I cannot explain it to you just yet.”

Kirk yells for the tractor beam to grab the shuttle, but Sulu can’t get the tractor beam to respond either.

“You need not be concerned, captain. I believe it is well within Mr. Scott’s abilities to repair the computer in due time.”

“You did this to the computer?”

“It was necessary. You will find the transporter similarly incapacitated. I could not risk you coming after me, or stopping me. Not yet.”

“Spock—do you know what you’re risking by doing this? You were the one who warned me not to go near Talos 4!”

“Yes, captain. And it is because I know what the Talosians are capable of that I am doing this. Either they are telling the truth, in which case there is no danger...or they are not, in which case it is better that I alone risk doing this.” A pause. “Jim...wait 24 hours for me. If I do not contact you by then...you must leave in all haste.”

“I’m not leaving you behind!”

“You must. 24 hours.” And with that, Spock ends the call. As Uhura’s trying fruitlessly to reestablish contact with him, she suddenly looks up and says, “Captain...we’re receiving a message from...Fleet Captain Pike?”

“What?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well...put him on.”

So Uhura puts Pike on speaker, and Kirk says, “We’re, er, in the middle of a bit of a situation, sir...what can I do for you?”

“I might ask what I can do for you, captain. Mr. Spock left a message requesting that I contact you.”

Stunned pause for a moment. “He did what?” Kirk finally says.

“About an hour ago. I regret I wasn’t able to return his call earlier, but it’s the middle of the night here...Kirk, what’s this all about?”

Kirk sighs. “It’s a long story, captain, and I don’t entirely understand it myself. Uhura, patch this into the briefing room...it’ll take a while to tell.”

A little later, we see Kirk and McCoy sitting in the briefing room as Kirk finishes up explaining everything to Pike. “What do you make of that, captain?”

“I’m not sure what to make of it, Kirk. I can’t imagine why Spock would want to go to Talos 4. All Federation starships have been warned away from there ever since our encounter with them, and Spock’s well aware of that.”

“Yes...Captain, I confess I’m not familiar with the entire story of that encounter myself...Spock was telling us about it before he, er, left, but he hadn’t finished. Could you enlighten us about the rest of it? We do have your logs, of course, but you might have more information--”

“Yes, I see what you mean. I’m not sure I’ll be able to help, but I can at least tell you what I know...”

Pike continues telling the story where Spock left off. Around about the point where Pike and the others escape from the cell, there’s a call from the bridge reporting that their sensors show that the shuttle has landed on Talos 4. Frustrated, Kirk wonders once again just what Spock thinks he’s doing down there.

We then cut to a shot of what looks kind of like the barren landscape of Talos 4, only this time there seems to be a small surface settlement among the cliffs. Then we see Spock entering a small, plainly decorated room with windows looking out to the rest of the settlement. “I am here, as agreed,” he says, and then the camera turns to show us a figure wearing a robe and a hood sitting at a table in the middle of the room.

“Welcome, Mr. Spock," the figure says. "Won’t you sit down?”

Back aboard the ship, Pike finishes telling Kirk and McCoy the story.

“So...that’s all of it?” Kirk says.

“Yes. We left Talos 4 and never looked back. Never heard anything from the Talosians, either, but Starfleet marked the place as too dangerous to visit just in case.”

“Poor Vina,” McCoy murmurs.

Pike sighs. “Leaving her there is one my greatest regrets. She seemed determined to stay, but...Even put in a request to go back, once, but Starfleet wouldn’t allow it. Too risky. I often wonder what happened to her. If she was really happy with them after all. But, as you may have gathered, Kirk, none of this explains just what the devil Spock thinks he’s doing--”

He’s interrupted by a call from Uhura: “Captain—message coming from Mr. Spock!”

“Put him on! Spock, what’s going on? Are you alright?”

“Quite well, captain. Has Captain Pike contacted the ship yet?”

“I’m on the line right now,” Pike says. “Spock, what do you think you’re playing at?”

“Ah, captain. I have someone here who wishes to speak to you.”

We then cut back to Spock sitting at the table with the figure, who takes his communicator and says, “Hello...captain.”

Pike is too stunned to speak for a moment. “Vina...? Is that you?”

“The very same. I’ve missed you.”

“I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

Between them, Spock and Vina explain just what is going on. There's been a change in Talosian society since the Enterprise left. Not all of the Talosians agreed with the plan to breed a slave race to begin with—others felt that they could, and should, attempt to reclaim the surface themselves. The incident with Captain Pike brought matters to a head, and a rebellion erupted shortly afterward. Once in power, the new leaders dedicated their efforts to repairing their ancestors’ machines and establishing a colony on the surface.

The reason the Enterprise was lured back to Talos 4 was Vina: she's had medical problems as a result of the crash and the botched surgery, and it's been getting worse for years, to the point that she likely won't live much longer if she doesn't get proper treatment. The new Talosian leaders wanted to make up for what their predecessors had done and gave her the best care they could, but simply didn't have the human medical knowledge to fix the problem. So Vina asked if they could help her get home, instead. The Talosians were concerned, however, that the Federation wouldn't believe a genuine call for help, given their history, so they hatched the plan to lure the Enterprise, and Pike with it, back to Talos 4. They've been waiting for quite a while, listening to subspace chatter, hoping the Enterprise would come near. Once it did, they put out the illusion of the damaged ship to bring the Enterprise close enough that they could maintain an illusion over the helm controls, making sure the helmsmen were not altering their course as they thought they were.

When they discovered that Pike was no longer aboard the Enterprise, they instead sent a telepathic message to Spock, hoping that his own experience with the Talosians would make him see the difference between their current society and the old one, and thus be more likely to believe them. They had to wait until the ship got close to Talos 4, because the new society of Talosians have been deliberately letting their psychic powers weaken, attempting to break the addiction to illusion that was holding them back from reclaiming the surface. They were able to keep up the illusion of the damaged ship for a while, but couldn't manage that and the illusion on the helm and extended contact with the Enterprise at the same time, making the whole thing very nearly fall apart at one point.

Kirk demands to know why Spock ran off on his own, and Spock explains that while he found the Talosians' message plausible, a risk remained that this was all an elaborate set-up. They might have been attempting another pass at the plan that failed thirteen years ago. If that was the case, Spock would be the least risky member of the crew to make contact with them, since as a non-human he wouldn't be suitable for their plans. Since he knew Kirk would never agree to that, he took the shuttle and hacked the ship's computers to ensure that they wouldn't be able to follow him, at least for a while. He now feels confident that this is not a trap, though, as the Talosians' powers have weakened enough that his own mental defenses are strong enough to mostly see through them.

So Vina accompanies Spock back to the shuttlecraft, and they fly back to the ship. Vina's taken to Sickbay while Kirk confronts Spock about stealing the shuttlecraft. Spock says he'll accept all punishment, but felt he had to do it--he saw what almost happened to Pike on Talos 4, and couldn't risk the same fate happening to Kirk. But he also felt he owed it to Pike to investigate Vina's story, and help her return if that was truly what she wanted. Kirk lets the whole matter go, because of course he does, telling Spock not to try that shit again because he can't lose his best officer and all that.

Kirk and Spock go to visit Sickbay, where McCoy reports that with proper Federation medical care Vina's prognosis is good. Kirk wants to talk to her, but McCoy tells him to wait because she's got another visitor. Kirk glances around the doorway and sees Vina sitting up in bed looking at a video monitor, from which Pike's voice is coming. Kirk smiles and says he'll come back later.

Everyone goes back to the bridge, and with the computer damage now fixed, they're preparing to leave, when Uhura reports that there's a call coming from Talos 4. Kirk has a short conversation with the Talosian on the other end, who is glad to hear that Vina will be alright. They also ask that Kirk relay a message to Pike, extending their apologies for what he went through, which Kirk assures them he will. He then adds that the Federation would likely be willing to open trade negotiations with the new Talosian government, and the Talosian says they may take them up on that. And with that, the ship flies off.

Most of this story would only require the existing Enterprise sets, and potentially some brief shots of the shuttle interior. The only new locations needed would be the Talosian settlement exterior, which could be a matte painting, and the inside of the building where Spock meets Vina, which wouldn't require much dressing. The only non-main-cast characters would be Pike, Vina, and the Talosian that contacts the Enterprise. The Talosian is a voice-only role. Pike is also a voice-only role, and would require someone who can approximate Jeffrey Hunter's voice, but it's a lot easier to find a sound-alike than someone who's a sound-alike and a look-alike--plus Pike would be thirteen years older than in The Cage, which allows some leeway. I don't know if Susan Oliver would have been willing/able to come back to play Vina, but if she wasn't, a hood, wig, careful camera shots and some old-age makeup would probably serve well enough to disguise another actress. The only special effect needed is a bit of glowiness for the Talosian that appears to Spock just out of frame.

As for the fate of Pike himself, I don't want to erase a disabled character, but I also don't really feel that Pike's appearance in The Menagerie does any justice to him as a disabled character. Did Gene always envision that kind of fate for him or did he simply seize upon it as a plot device in a desperate moment? I don't know, so in the end I decided to leave it more or less open. There would be considerable leeway for multiple options that would still allow him to serve the same role in this episode: he could be commanding another ship, he could retired and settled down somewhere, he could have suffered an accident as he did in canon and spend this entire episode talking through a voice synthesizer. Imagine whatever one feels most suitable to you.

This is only my own take on the story. I know it would have considerable repercussions to later Star Trek canon and I'm not going to make the claim that those repercussions themselves would be better than what actually happened. It's certainly a more hopeful ending than The Menagerie, on the whole, which may not be everyone's cup of tea. But it was an interesting exercise.

#trek talk #1.11 The Menagerie Part One #1.12 The Menagerie Part 2 #fix-it post #fixing The Menagerie

71 notes · View notes

blusollyjd · 5 years

Text

Somewhere in the Mojave...

(The following is a collabo between me and CuddlyMedics! Enjoy Jane being the world’s best, stupidest husband. And getting some unexpected help. :D) ----------

Something that Jane Doe had forgotten about his beloved America was how big its western desert was. It certainly hadn’t looked this big on his map (the one that’d conveniently enough been sitting right on his tray at the Speedee Burger). Not that he was complaining- he knew it would be a long trek to Coldfront. He just hadn’t considered it would be this long. He was certain that he should’ve been halfway there by now, and that he’d have Abel in his arms in no time. But the Mojave was wide, barren and hot. His canteens had run dry long ago, his only respite from his thirst the occasional dust-ridden little town he’d come across that had a little water to spare. He’d remembered some trick about cactuses, but the spines stuck his fingers something awful before he managed to hack deep enough into one to get any decent amount of bitter juice. What the desert lacked in moisture it made up for in snakes, scorpions, red ants and the occasional coyote- all of which seemed to be doing their best to make sure that the Soldier didn’t get that great of a night’s sleep. The night was cool at least, but so many bugs seemed to be interested in his sleeping bag at night that Jane was starting to forgo it. Unless he could find a fairly flat elevated rock to keep him off the ground.

It was hard going. Something in him was wondering if this was a stupid, suicidal course of action. But then he thought of Abel. Abel, who may be dead or sick or hurt, whose letters never reached him, if they were sent at all. Jane had to get to him, and the thought of the Medic filled the Midwesterner with renewed resolve to go another day. But alas, even the most resolute, loyal and stupidly brave Soldiers are bound by the limits of human physiology. And so, it was around the peak of the midday heat that Jane finally collapsed to the dry, cracked ground, mouth parched, vision blurry, and brain baking in the metal confines of his helmet. His fingers dug into the dirt, pulling himself along a few more feet. He thought he saw something in the wavery distance. He was even less sure, but he thought he saw something moving toward him. All he was really sure of was that he was likely never going to reach Abel now. Stupid, he thought as the hot, bright world went dark on him. You’re so goddamn stupid.

But even as the bright world went dark on the Soldier, and all consciousness slipped away from him in a shimmery, hazy cloud of heat, indeed, something was making his way towards him. He wasn’t imagining things. It hadn’t been one of those ‘oasis hallucinations’ he had heard spoken about in the past. After all, the last thing he viewed before the darkness took over wasn’t of a cool, shimmering pond, where the inviting fronds of a palm tree swayed high above the giggling heads of half-naked desert maidens. Wasn’t that what hallucinations were? Cool ponds surrounded by sensual and sexy half-naked women? No. Well, yes, but no. This wasn’t that. This wasn’t anything of the sort.

“Now… what do we have here?”

It was silly to have ever considered such a thing. After all, cool, shimmering ponds and inviting palm trees didn’t talk.

“Is that--”

And, boy, it was a fact that hallucinated giggling, half-naked maidens typically didn’t have that kind of masculine voice.

“Naw. That couldn’t be. ...Could it?”

That was such a nice voice, though.

“It… it is! By the stars n’ stripes! Mr. Doe?”

That kind of masculine voice that rung out with a clear, crisp, southern lilt to it. No, no. That couldn’t be right.

But before the Soldier with heat stroke could even begin to recognize the voice, let alone the world around him, his body gave out on him. With his brain fried from the heat and his thoughts riddled with what remained of his cooked mind, he never truly understood the concept of being picked up and slung over someone’s shoulder, carried a-la-fireman-style, over to a place that had shelter, shade, food, water… and supplies. A place that, in all honesty, had he been aware of his surroundings… Jane Doe would have recognized in a heartbeat. “Hey! Woody!”, the masculine voice with a clear, crisp, southern lilt to it broke the darkness, piercing the quiet of that nothingness. “Woody! We got a live one from the desert!”

The sound of gravel and pebbles crunching underfoot. The smell of old, rotting wood in the air. Of dust and heat, and that particular scent. Like hay and sunbaked peaches. Like sunlight and arid soil. And of course… beer. There was spilled beer nearby, soaking into the clay-baked earth.

The barely audible whisper of the wind through creaking, groaning structures. The lazy humdrum steady thrum of heat exposed bees, whirling and spiraling away from a shriveled up flower, following its own crooked path back to the hive. The smell of home. The sounds of home. The feeling… of a lot of mercenaries calling this base their first ‘home’.

Of Teufort.

Jane was in and out of consciousness for a few days. He’d mutter something unintelligible in his sleep, wake up screaming only to fall asleep again. He’d ask where he was, drink water like some wild man dying of thirst, succumb to exhaustion, only to wake up disoriented again. It was only on the fourth day that he seemed to rest and hydrate enough to finally get his bearings. “...Will…?” He hadn’t seen the younger Soldier in a dog’s age, and in spite of himself, Jane cracked a wide smile. “Will, that’s you…? Jesus, I made it all the way to Teufort….”

“Aww, good. Yer awake.”

The bright eyed and bushy tailed man, by the name of ‘Will’, let out a huge sigh of relief. He had a friendly face and a truly affable smile. He oozed a sort of a saccharine honesty that one simply couldn��t help but warm up to him.

He hadn’t changed at all from the time Jane last saw him. He still had those baby blue eyes. He still had that dirty blond hair, a bit more carefree and loose in style compared to his old military-issued haircut. He still had his trademark helmet-- hung on the wall, at that very moment-- with the painted on peace symbol. And, of course, he still had those adorable dimples whenever he smiled that carefree, almost childlike smile of his. So full of innocence, so jolly and jovial in tone.

William Reed was a rather young soldier. At least, he was younger than Jane. He was also a bit taller than Jane, but not as built. Jane had known him for quite a long time, and though there were obvious similarities between the two, the biggest difference between them was the fact William had officially, and legally, been in the army.

William had served a few years in the wet, steamy jungles of Vietnam, the military issued victim of the dreaded draft. He had endured a good portion of it with nary a cut or bruise until one day his luck ran out. He lost control of his life during a particularly chaotic ambush where a mine exploded, and scalding, twisted shrapnel shredded his leg. He had lost a lot of blood before his allies and fellow soldiers could drag him off to safety.

His term spent over in ‘nam was done for, and the young, now disabled man had returned home.

Still desperate to make money for his family, he allowed himself to fall under the guile of MannCo’s job offering. Even with a damaged leg, they told him he could make himself... useful.

And so he had. The rest… was history. A history, thankfully, that Jane was privy enough to know of.

“Was jus’ beginning to worry, sir,” William honestly admitted to him. His voice rang soft and true, the thick Southern lilt of his accent almost comforting in its vernacular. It was like sweet southern honey, drizzled over everything he said. “You had us both worried. Up and began thinkin’ the desert heat done cooked yer brains half to mush. Like grits too long on the stovetop.”

The soldier pulled up a chair beside Jane and settled down into it. There it was: that same limp of his. His leg hadn’t gotten any better. If Jane had known any better, the limb might have seemed a bit stiffer, the leg a bit more favored.

“Now, now. Jus’ you relax. Don’t need you actually keelin’ over the moment you come ‘round.” Taking a bowl of room temperature water and a rag off of the bedside table, he dampened the cloth before he reached over and, with the gentlest of motions, wiped away any sweat from Jane’s forehead. “Got so many questions for ya, sir. So many. But I’m not sure where to even begin, if I may say so myself.”

Jane couldn’t help but smile, his own blue eyes crinkling at the corners. One hand reached to his side, looking for his helmet out of habit. “Mmm, go ahead and ask away, son. But don’t worry, I won’t be in your hair very long. I need to get moving soon as I can. Got a long way to go yet.” Wherever he’d been going, wherever he’d come from in such terrible condition, it seems that he was planning on pressing onward.

“Need to get movin’ again?” William murmured that under his breath to himself, his brow furrowed in concern. “Jesus, though,” Jane continued, not hearing William mumble. “It’s so good to see you. You’re a sight for sore eyes, Will. How have you been? The leg looks a little stiff, there. Been bothering you much?”

There was no denying it. He was absolutely confused as to what was going on. “Er-- ah, well.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he glanced down at his leg. He looked as if he were pondering its existence, or perhaps the limb’s use. Or maybe he was considering the fact that he did, in fact, have a leg. At least, that’s what his expression looked to portray. It was a bit vague for Jane. “My leg’s been iffy. Been doin’ a lot of jumpin’, sir. Lots of jumpin’. And it’s just been botherin’ me a bit. Especially with that surprise rainstorm we got a few nights back. Desert rain always lingers in my bones.”

William got up, and Jane could see the man move across the room to a chest of drawers. The piece of furniture looked beat up and worn. Maybe even nibbled on by mice. Yup. Those were teeth marks down at the very corner of the left leg.

Was this the soldier’s room? Sure seemed that way. It had a table and chair, and a dresser for clothes. It had a few hooks on the wall where a spare uniform jacket and a helmet hung, along with other such personal items. And there was a shelf there with a few books ranging from military tactics, to accounts of the war in vietnam to one that was, curiously enough, an intro into technology.

“Yeah, sir,” William continued. “I mean... if’fin ya don’t mind, sir, got a whole lotta questions to ask.” He slid a drawer open and rifled through it. He pulled out a shirt and examined it but, based upon his expression alone, after a thorough scrutinizing it must have been unfit for what he had in mind. He simply folded it back up and put it back where it came from. “I mean, like, what in the blue blazes were you doin’ out there all by yer lonesome? I mean, it’s not every day I get to talk again with my idol. Uh-- wait, I-- ”

William stuttered for a moment, clutching another shirt he had just pulled out so tightly he ended up wadding it in his grasp. He turned towards Jane, his cheeks obviously a bit tinted with the signs of a reddening blush.

“I--- I mean,” William began, tone a bit more rushed in his embarrassment, “here I thought ya went to another base, and you, uh… uh…” Unceremoniously stuffing the shirt back into the drawer, the soldier limped over to the open door and called out, “‘Ey! ‘Ey, Woody! Woody! He’s up! Up an’ awake! You wanna meet him?” “Will. At ease. You’re wound up tighter than a goddamn Medic. Just… take a few breaths son. Now. You’re right. I was somewhere else. I’m at Coldfront, usually, but they put me up to fill in at Ravine. But the stint kept dragging on, and I didn’t get no letters back from Abel no matter how many I wrote. Something’s wrong, Will. I know something’s wrong. So I’m going back.” One could only draw one conclusion. Jane Doe seemed hell bent on getting back to Coldfront. And if he’d walked all the way here from Ravine on foot… it seemed to be how he’d planned on making the entire journey. “I didn’t mean to commandeer your quarters this long, son,” Jane added. “Just another night’s rest and I need to keep going.” He didn’t comment on the ‘idol’ remark. It seemed to embarrass the younger Soldier that he’d let it slip out, and besides… at the end of the day, Jane knew he probably wasn’t the best role model.

Jane’s logic was never a sound, sane sort of thing. Everyone knew it. This particular soldier was loonier than a crate full of wildly excitable squirrels. It was a well known fact that his personal dossier (nestled within the confines of MannCo’s records) had each and every strange event, scenario, and situation that the man had ever been involved with painstakingly accounted for. And each account only got weirder and weirder with passing time. Weirder… and, of course, more and more unbelievable.

The bedridden soldier could see William pace back and forth a few steps. Four one way, turn. Four another way, turn. Repeat. A small pacing routine that involved slow, careful steps and an intense session of processing the information he was just given.

“Coldfront. Right. I know that base. Not the best thin’. Been there only once ‘fore. For a short, short stint. Like… a few weeks. Couldn’t handle it. The cold and, er…” Trailing off, he patted his bad leg, once. “Cold made my bones hurt too much. So they sent me back. Ended up here. Went from Sawmill, to Coldfront, to Teufort. Came here right when you were goin’ there, sir. Had to have.”

Footfalls creaked along the wooden floor as William made his way across the room to his table. Equally worn as the dresser, he leaned against it for support. Crossing his arms over his chest, Jane could see a frown beginning to etch on his face.

“And it’s no problem, sir. Really isn’t. Not usin’ my room much these days.” A smile formed at that, but, quickly, he mentally shook himself and got back on topic. “Brought you here. I was jus’ lucky I found ya. Was out doin’ practice jumps when I saw ya collapse. Would’a brought ya to the medbay, but I’m pret’y sure our docs wouldn’t want to treat a non-base worker. If ya know what I mean.” Shrugging, William looked over at his superior, confusion etched on his face. “But, uh… sir. Coldfront? That’s… hundreds a’ thousands a’... well, a lotta miles away. So far away that I’m fairly certain you would’a--”

“Yea, sugarloaf? He’s awake?”

Jane could see William’s eyes brighten as the younger soldier looked towards the door. There, standing in the welcoming entrance, was a rather plump looking man of short stature. Garbed in the uniform of an Engineer, he had the familiar, thick electrical gloves on his hands and the old fashioned coveralls associated with most of his kind. His goggles were pushed all the way up to his forehead, partially covering the bandana wrapped around his forehead in an attempt to keep the sweat out of his eyes. And his eyes? They were a soft brown. The color of milk chocolate. His black hair was short and styled, but just a little bit messy. ‘Hard hat’ messy.

“Oh, Woody!” Excitement coursing through him, William all but forgot, at least for the moment, the sheer absurdity of Mr. Doe’s hellbent, but incredibly foolish, escapade. “Honeybee, this is the soldier I was talkin’ about.” Gesturing towards the bedridden man, he added, “Jane, this is Elwood. Elwood, Jane.” Jane sat up, making himself as presentable as possible. A proper Soldier must have some sense of decorum, after all. “Nice to meet you. Wish the circumstances were better.”

“Likewise, pardner,” the engineer replied. Quite the suave charmer, he hooked his thumbs in his belt and flashed Jane an unforgettable smile. Jane grinned in spite of himself, sky-blue eyes glancing between the two of them. So, this must be love. They made a very handsome couple. If Jane had to say so objectively, the Engineer was a good looking man, in a different but very complimentary way to Will’s boyish good looks. “I was just telling Will that I won’t be a bother much longer. Gotta make my way back to Coldfront soon as possible.”

The engineer had just run a hand through his hair to fix it, to appear more presentable himself, when Jane uttered that little statement of his. The engineer, Elwood, slowly looked towards William who, upon catching sight of the techie’s stare, sheepishly gave that nervous, boyish grin of his, all the while holding his hands up in the visual defense of not knowing anything.

“...Coldfront.” Elwood blinked a few times in bemusement as he tried to get his brain to process what the man had just told him. “But we found ya here, sonny.”

“Technically, I did.”

“Yea, that’s true, sugarloaf. You found ‘em.” Elwood nodded at William, giving a warm chuckle at how the man simply beamed at doing a job well done. “But... you found him out there in the desert. All walkin’ about all stumblin’ and bumblin’ from the heat, half outta his mind. Looney off his rocker, remember? Ya carried him all the way over to me and you were sayin’ how he was sayin’ the strangest stuff. Stuff that didn’t make a darn lick’a sense.”

William opened his mouth as if to say something, but he caught that familiar look in Elwood’s eyes. He knew that the man had already figured it out.

“You were walkin’,” Elwood continued, turning his attention back to Jane. “You were… so, wait, let me get this straight.” Pushing the bandana up a little bit, he scratched his forehead. “Uh, Jane, was it? Jane, pardner, tell me somethin’. And tell me the honest to God truth. Don’t you go lyin’ on me.” He quizzically quirked an eyebrow, his face clouded by befuddlement. “Were you… don’t tell me you were walkin’ to Coldfront? All the way? Walkin’, on foot?”

“...yes?” Jane shifted a bit, brows knit. He wasn’t sure how old Elwood was, but that no-nonsense look made him feel like a kid who’d come to class without his homework. “It’s all I can do. My Medic needs me, I can feel it in my bones. I can’t take the train and I can’t teleport. But I can’t let that stop me. Abel’s in trouble, I know he is, and I have to get back to him. I’ve waited too long already, and I don’t know if I am even too late. I just know I have not heard from him in weeks and weeks and that is not like him.” Jane squared his shoulders stubbornly. Nothing was going to budge him. One way or another, if he had to hike an impossible path, Jane Doe was making it back to Coldfront, no ifs ands or buts.

Again, Elwood rapidly blinked, but this time the visual display of his facial cues were not out of bemusement but we're, instead, out of the inability to process that bit of information. He was absolutely flabbergasted over what he had just heard, and he was reeling from it all.

“You…”

“I know that Medic,” William quickly interjected, as if hoping his currently malfunctioning beau would up and decide not to speak what was on his mind. “I remember Abel. Swell guy. Real nice. He was always nice to me, I mean. Made me tea a few times. Baked me cookies. Made sure I was bandaged up after a training session. I knew you two were a thing, but, you haven’t been able to reach out to him? And he hasn’t replied to you? At all?”

“...You…”

“I’m sure he’s alright, sir,” William said, in a slightly more rushed tone of voice. “Ain’t that righ’, Woody? Yeah. I’m sure it’s not too late for him or anythin’. He’s prob’ly just busy or, uh, well...” William left the support of the table behind him as he inched closer to Jane. “Have ya tried callin’ him? No. No, wait. Coldfront. Hard to get any phone to connect with that base. Uh, let’s see…”

Elwood had stopped blinking and mentally malfunctioning and, by now, had his face screwed up into an unreadable mask that could only be vaguely described as ‘something far past the human limitation for astonishment’ and ‘beyond an appalling sense of loss for the general faith one had in humanity’.

“Oh! Oh, wait! Have you--”

From where Jane sat in the bed, he could see Elwood walk up behind William and, with a heavy sense of, perhaps, mourning, he placed his hand upon the younger man’s shoulder. Something was whispered into William’s ear, and the sweet soldier gave the engineer a rather puzzled look.

“Oh? ...Oh, uh, Mr. Doe, sir? Woody here wants to talk to me about somethin’ real fast-like. Just be a moment, sir. Just a moment. Promise.”

Elwood quickly (and with a sense of urgency) ushered the younger soldier out of the door. But Jane, from where he sat, could see just a bit of each person. An arm here, or a leg there. Someone moving about from just around the corner of the entranceway. And then the hushed whispering began. Hard to make out, hard to understand. It was a lowered decibel that made deciphering what was being said hard. Jane, in the meantime, glanced out the window. Down at his hands, which were fidgeting with themselves. Abel. He had to get better so he could get home to him.

“Yer prankin’ me, sugarloaf.”

“I’m not, Woody.”

“You promise me?”

“I promise, I do.”

“Willy--”

“This is just Jane,” William confessed, lowering his voice even further in hopes Jane wouldn’t hear this. “I’ve known him for years. He’s always been a bit… well, a bit…”

“A few shy of a box of screws?”

“I mean--”

“A few colors short of a crayon box?”

“I jus’--”

“Denser than a sack of wet rocks? Thicker than batter--”

“It's just Jane,” William replied with a sigh. He held up his hands, once more, in the defense of not knowing. And it was true. He didn’t know what to say or do. It was not a typical sort of situation.

Elwood jabbed his thumb in the direction of the doorway and hissed, under his breath, “this poor sonuva thinks he can walk all the way to that alpine mountain range by walkin’ through the Mojave desert.”

“Well--”

“Does he realize those mountains are on a separate continent? That base is halfway across the world! It’s on a continent that is separated by a body of water, and that particular body of water jus’ happens to be an ocean! What’s he gonna do? Swim that, too?”

“I know, I know. I think he jus’ thinks he can get to Coldfront if he keeps walkin’ while findin’ alternate methods of travel along the way.”

“Didn’t sound like it. He’s fully intendin’ on walking there.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Elwood breathed deep, calming himself. “Listen, darl, I get it. You look up to this guy an’ all. But he’s as oblivious as a herd of cows on steak day. He’s gonna get himself killed by pullin’ off this stunt. I’m awf’ly sorry to tell ya this, but either the sun done baked his brains for good, or he’s an absolute buffoon.”

“...He’s loyal.” William let out his breath. He hadn’t realized that he was holding it in. “That’s... what he is. Loyal.” He wrung his hands together, finding himself fidgeting just a bit by shifting weight from one foot to the other. “An’, I mean… he’s one of the most loyal soldiers I ever met. It’s why I look up to him, Woody. He’s everythin’ a soldier should be. Honest, loyal an’ true. He believes in himself an’ doesn’t believe in failure. He’s ready for the cause, ready to do the impossible, even if it’s to trek halfway across the world jus’ to be with someone again. Even with my bad leg,” he flashed the engineer a boyishly sweet smile, “I’d do the same for you.”

Elwood’s features softened, creases forming at the corner of his eyes as he smiled. Reaching up, he lightly gripped his soldier’s coat collar before tugging him down, just enough, to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I know ya would,” he replied, patting his beloved’s cheek. “An’ I love that about’cha. Real loyal. Real protective. And a damn fine looker.”

“Woody…”

“Righ’. Time for flirtin’ later. Got it, stud.” Grinning at the blush that was coloring the soldier’s cheeks, he gestured towards the door. “We let yer friend wait long ‘nough. Pret’y sure he’s one of them soldier types that gets real antsy when ya leave them alone for too long. Like an overgrown puppy, all antsy and nervous an’ ready to piss on the carpet.”

“That’s… actually accurate, Woody. Save for the peein’ part.”

“Come, now. Let’s see if we can get him to Coldfront without lettin’ him go out there and take the distance on foot.”

Elwood gently coaxed William forward, letting him back into the room first. However, he had the last say in everything. He had his last say without words, but with his actions instead.

With a quick, sly slap to his soldier’s rear.

“Uh-- Jane? Sir?”

William slid back into the room first, his cheeks a little red from what must have been blushing. He cleared his throat, moving aside so Elwood could enter next. The engineer had a wily smile on his face; the look of a pleased and sated cheshire cat, happy with whatever spoils it had accrued.

Jane, for his part, didn't seem to notice them at first. He was looking at something he’d apparently plucked out of his helmet: a photograph of someone Will might know, but Elwood probably wouldn’t. It was of a man in a Medic’s uniform. He had gentle grey-blue eyes, salt and pepper hair, and a warm, kind smile. The Soldier’s thumb slid tenderly over the image of the Medic’s cheek as he mumbled to himself. “I’m coming, Abel,” Jane was heard muttering under his breath. “I’ll be there soon as I can…”

William tentatively took a step towards him. “Sir?” Realizing he wasn’t alone anymore, Jane quickly cleared his throat, stuffed the picture back into his helmet, and tugged it over his eyes, blushing a bit. “Y-yes?”

William and Elwood shared a quick glance, each one silently asking who would go first. With a small hand gesture, and nod of his head, it was the younger soldier who took the reigns.

“You’re awfully worried, aren’tcha, sir?” Giving a small smile to the helmet (where Jane’s eyes would be) and to the photo tucked within it, he added in a kind and gentle tone, “I would be, too. I’d do anythin’ for Woody, like you would for Abel. You’re rather sweet on him, and so is he. He loves ya, sir. So much.” Moving over to the edge of the bed, he sat down, politely folding his hands in his lap. He sat straight and true-- an attentive little soldier in the presence of superiors. “Woody and I… we got to talkin’, and we wanted to help you.”

“Y’see,” Elwood began pointedly, as he began pulling up a chair to sit in it, backwards, so his arms were folded atop the chair’s short back, “Coldfront’s a bit of a loner base, way out there halfway ‘cross the world. And where you are now… well, y’see, you’re too far away to walk to it. It’s imposs--”

William cleared his throat and gave the engineer a tentative, but worried, look.

“--I, I mean… it’d be hard. Sure. Way harder than it should be. So we were thinkin’ about it… and we want to help.” “You can help me?” Jane’s mouth cracked into the big, craggy smile he was known for, the one he wore best when flying through the sky or in Abel’s presence. “I would appreciate that, I would. Anything that can get me home faster than walking. Which I would absolutely do if I had to. But...heh. I may be in a little trouble when I get back. I went AWOL from Ravine because they would not let me leave.” Jane fidgeted a little. He hadn’t thought that through when he left- he had the singular goal of getting back to Abel.

Elwood couldn’t help but give a small smile himself. For being denser than a sack of wet rocks, the soldier… had a pretty nice smile. No wonder some bloke fell in love with this guy. Maybe he wasn’t the smartest person alive but, confound it, when he smiled, he was absolutely charming.

But the engineer’s smile quickly went away once it sunk into his brain what he had just said.

“--wait, you what?”

William, too, looked to be surprised. A soldier going AWOL was a terrible thing. Especially so since many did just that during his own personal stint in jungles of ‘nam, and he remembered what happened to them, what punishment befell them. A soldier going AWOL was one of the worst things a soldier could commit. Or... at least that’s what the army’s superiors drilled into their brains.

“S--Sir, they-- they don’t know where you are? What if they’re lookin’ for ya? What if--”

“Lad’s got some balls on him!” Elwood laughed heartily, a good sounding laugh that was true and honest and came from the depths of one’s belly. “Look at him! Snuck under the gaze of those stiff suits and members a’ management over there at Ravine, and they’re none the wiser! Bunch of dogs runnin’ around in circles, sniffin’ their asses instead of sniffin’ for clues. I gotta admit, Jane, I had my doubts. But I’m damn impressed.”

Jane scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I was not trying to be. I just need to get home. I couldn’t go by teleporter or train because they kept catching me and telling me I could not leave. So I left on foot. They couldn’t stop me that way.” He frowned. “I probably still can’t teleport. And if they catch me on one of the trains I will be court-martialed for sure. How are you going to get me home? I mean, you are an Engineer, if anyone can figure something out you can. I have never met an Engie who wasn’t smart as a whip.”

“Well, would’ya look at that. Ol’ boy’s butterin’ me up.”

“Don’t let it get to yer head, Woody.”

Beaming, the engineer turned his attention back to the soldier in bed. “But, ya know, as crackpot as this all seems, you’ve got a point there. If ya up and went AWOL at Ravine, they’ll have put a notice out to any other bases. You won’t be able to use a lotta MannCo’s devices. Like a teleporter, and stuff like that. So I can’t possibly calibrate somethin’ for ya an’ get a ‘porter up and runnin’. ‘Sides, your records aside, your chip might’ave been temporarily turned off, so you prob’ly wouldn’t be able to use the teleporter anyway, even if you wanted to. And as far as train, that’s most definitely a no-go.”

With a fair bit of musing and thinking, the engineer lapsed into a steadfast silence. Once or twice William looked towards his way, but Elwood didn’t seem to notice. The gears in his head were turning, and he was formulating any sort of escape plan that could eventually be possible.

“...wait.” An imaginary lightbulb dinged over the engineer’s head, and he jovially rubbed his gloved hands together. “Jane, I think ya might be wrong ‘bout one thing. I think you could use one particular route. Might be the best way goin’ about things, too. It’ll take a long time, but not as long as if you were doin’ it on foot.” Leaning forward, the engineer gave a mock stage whisper, going, “so, how do ya feel ‘bout trains?” Jane shrugged. “They’re alright. I never thought about them a lot. Alright for getting one place to another. Kind of shaky after a while. But I can’t use the train, you already said so.”

“He’s got a point, Woody.” William looked towards the engineer, a frown forming. “You did say trains were outta the question…”

“Now, now, hear me out.”

Getting up from the chair, Elwood began to pace the room. Like a passionate professor conducting a lecture before his befuddled students, he took the stage and began to explain aloud the finer machinations of his grand plan.

A train, he admitted, had not been his first thought. In fact, he thought it had been one of the major options that had to be avoided. Security was tight, and surely, by now, MannCo would have passed on Jane’s picture through the cybernetic grapevine. No doubt each base had received the information and the notice of the man’s absence. Mercenaries who went missing could very well lead to legal troubles later on. With the leaking of information, of blueprints…

But maybe that was the most logical option to take. After all, sometimes there was safety in heightened security. Even if that bit of security was being primed against you.

“...but what I’m thinkin’,” Wood continued on, feeling in his element explaining his ideas, devising a course of action, “is that we wait and get’cha on one of our supply trains. MannCo likes to run trains from base to base, shipping supplies from place to place, keepin’ the wheels on the tracks. As long as a box is properly addressed, they’re a bit lax on checkin’ the contents. They just chuck the box onto the train, and they move it ‘long its merry way.” “Whoa, whoa-- wait a minute there, Woody.” William bounced his attention back and forth between Jane and the engineer. “Are you suggestin’ what I think you’re suggestin’?”

With a rather wide, jolly smile, the engineer turned towards Jane. With his hands on his hips, he winked. “Well? You followin’ me so far, Jane?” “YES. Ahem. Yes. I think I follow you clearly.” Jane was grinning. “You want to mail Abel a box that lets him know that I am on my way!” William and Elwood could be greatly forgiven for their responses in marveling at Jane’s boneheaded answer. He certainly wasn’t known for his intelligence, as Woody had astutely remarked.

The Engineer gave a patient sort of sigh, raising his hands to his face so he could cover it. His shoulders rose and fell with each exhalation of breath, of the passing of time in the most exhausting sort of way.

“I think,” William interjected, hoping to diffuse the situation and get Elwood back on his feet (metaphorically, of course), “what Woody’s tryin’ to say here is that if we find a box big enough, and label it all correctly an’ do a mock up job of having a supply crate addressed to Coldfront, yer’ll eventually get sent there, sir.”

“That,” Elwood said, almost wearily, as his hands fell away from his face. “That’s exactly what I meant.” He inhaled once more, exhaled once more, and regained the strength to continue, once more. “So... all we gotta do is make sure we find you a crate big ‘nough for you to fit in. Fill it with some stuff so it’s not too inconspicuous. Pack plenty of blankets--”

“--rations, too. Food, water, supplies--”

“--and address it all proper to the mandatory protocols, and MannCo’ll think none the wiser.” Jabbing his thumb towards the open door, Elwood indicated the whole of the base, the company, as he added, “I may work for these folks, and they’re the ones signin’ my paychecks at the end of the day, but I can tell ya straight up: bein’ in the business this long, most of ‘em don’t know a real gun from a squirt gun. A lot’a the higher ups in management only care about the money and the statistics, and the gainin’ of territory. Profits. The business of profiting. But,” he tapped the side of his engineering goggles, “they don’t pay attention to the important stuff. And I bet’cha anythin’ we can get you on your way back to yer base, and back to yer pret’y lil’ Medic.”

“You are going to mail ME to Abel?” Jane’s eyes widened under his helmet. Then he threw back his head and laughed- not in a mocking way, but in absolute elation. It was such a simple, yet brilliant idea! He couldn’t believe he didn’t think of it himself. “THAT IS ABSOLUTE GENIUS. YOU DESERVE A MEDAL.” He could just imagine it: it would be like a present. Abel would open up the box unaware, and out he’d pop like a big American jack-in-the-box. If he was able to. The delight on the Soldier’s face fell a bit, shoulders drooping. “I just hope I am not too late. If he isn’t answering my letters something must be very, very wrong. He would never ignore me.”

Elwood and William exchanged silent, worried looks. It was common knowledge that Coldfront was a base of bad luck. From its terrible blizzards to delayed supply trains, to respawn glitches and the like, a lot of bad luck could befall the ill-fated mercenaries there. Sometimes mercenaries didn’t survive. Sometimes mercenaries took a walk outside, and an unpredicted spot of bad weather would crop up, obscuring their path. They could get lost. They could lose their way. They could freeze to death, just outside the respawn boundary lines.

A lot could have happened to the Medic. But there was no use working the soldier up, upsetting him with more potential bad news.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” came the younger soldier’s chipper tone. Always the bright optimistic, he looked towards the sunrises, not the sunsets, in life. “Ya gotta remember, sir, at Coldfront postal service gets slowed down and phone lines don’t always work. I remember Abel. He was a real tough Medic. Strong, steadfast. Loyal, too. Loyal and protective of you.” Giving Jane that boyish grin, he reached over and, with a truly wholesome sense of support, laid his hand upon his shoulder. “He wouldn’t give up on you. He’s there. I’m sure everything is fine. I’m sure nothin’ bad has happened.”

Elwood couldn’t help but smile to himself and softly shake his head. “Listen, Jane. Jus’ met’cha today. And it hasn’t even been that long. But if yer doc is anythin’ like ya… he’s probably worried sick about you, and is doin’ anythin’ he can to reach out to you. So I wouldn’t worry ‘bout it. I would focus on gettin’ there and gettin’ to him. And after that, pieces will jus’ fall back into place.”

“That’s right.” Giving Jane’s shoulder a reaffirming squeeze, William nodded. “Focus on the goal, sir. Focus on that. Keep your head on your task, and complete the mission. Don’t worry ‘bout what may or may not happen.”

“You both are right.” Squaring his shoulders once more, Jane felt a renewed sense of resolve overcome him. There was hope after all. He'd get there in time. Nothing bad has happened. He'd jump out of that box and he'd see Abel’s warm smile. “Nothing bad has happened. Soon I'll be there and everything will be fine.”

It would take a day or two, Elwood informed him. They would have to locate a crate big enough and prepare it for the trip. Then he'd have to look up the exact coordinates and shipping label codes for Coldfront in order to create a mockup of a supply label. It could be done, he assured him. There was no doubt in his mind they'd get Jane on his way.

Jane tried arguing the fact, seeing as two days time was just too long to wait, but the two mercenaries from Teufort knew it was just his anxious nerves getting the best of him. With some time and luck, they managed to convince him to stay where he was and rest up.

To all of this, Jane agreed. He did so on account that he knew they wouldn't lie to him. He'd rest up and stay put... as long as he could stretch his legs and get some fresh air.

“No training in the desert,” Elwood warned him. “We don't need to go back to square one with you half-baked to death.”

“AFFIRMATIVE. I would not want that either. I couldn't return to Abel if I were dead.”

A plan was set in motion. William went about gathering up the supplies while Elwood did his magic, finding a suitable crate, looking up the proper coordinates and making shipping label templates. Jane did his part and rested in bed, occasionally taking small trips in order to stretch his legs and get his muscles moving again.

Jane wanted to get back to Abel as soon as possible, but he had to be patient. Like the Medic sometimes said, ‘patience is a virtuoso’. Or something like that. He couldn't quite remember. Remembering was hard sometimes.

He began to count the minutes until all was ready. Hold on, Abel. Just hold on.

--------

Finally, everything was ready. The crate was as big as Elwood could make without arousing too much suspicion- big enough to fit one Soldier inside with a certain amount of comfort, as well as enough rations and water to see him through the journey. Holes were subtly drilled in the crate where it would allow for the best airflow possible while not looking like airholes- after all, the manifest said the crate was full of medical equipment, and x-rays and defibrillators and other such things did not need to breathe. Clambering into the crate, Jane hunkered down, arranging his travel rations and his few possessions as comfortably as he could. It was not going to be the cushiest way to travel, but that didn’t matter. If he got back to Abel, any amount of discomfort and rationing and peeing in an empty Mann-Cola bottle would be absolutely worth it, just as much as walking halfway around the world would have been. Looking up, he tipped his helmet back, regarding the two men who had helped him. “You boys are a credit to this man’s Team, and a credit to America. If you ever need my help for anything at all, let me know and I will do my best. I give my word as a Soldier I will.”

“Aw, shucks, sir.” William couldn’t help but beam at this. He was rather proud of himself that he had made his idol proud. He knew Jane wasn’t all that smart, and he was incredibly bullheaded, but he was brave. And he was the epitome of a soldier; someone he aspired to be. “You’ll be there in no time. Don’t you worry none.”

“And… there.” Elwood stood back from the crate, admiring all the hard work that had gone into it. He had placed the final parcel of rations in there with Jane, making sure the man had quite a few flasks of water and, of course, a bucket. For what came after the eating and the drinking. “That should do it, boy. Now, Jane,” the suave, charming engineer leaned against the crate, “don’t you be a stranger. Sugarloaf here is enamored by you.”

“Woody!”

“Aw, look at him. He’s adorable when he blushes.”

William grumbled to himself, his face aflame with his shy embarrassment. He tugged his helmet down a little, covering his eyes, unknowingly mimicking his idol in many ways, from many distant situations. But a little kiss to his cheek from the engineer caused him to lighten up.

“He’s right, though, sir. Don’t be a stranger.” He took the helmet away from his face. With hopeful eyes, the younger soldier smiled at him. “Please, come back n’ visit, alright?”

“And next time, bring your darlin’ little turtledove with you.” “Jesus. You two are so goddamn cute.” Jane laughed roughly, his eyes twinkling a bit, before clearing his throat. “Yes. I will tell Abel everything that happened here. If all is well he will probably want to come and thank you himself.” Sitting up straight, Jane snapped the two a sharp, proper salute, and then slouched back down to allow his friends to put the lid on the crate.

“Good luck, sir.”

“Pleasure meetin’ ya, Jane.”

The two hefted the lid and, both smiling ear to ear, the placed it on the crate. A moment later, the whirring sound of a drill pierced the sturdy wood of the structure. Everything was being nailed into place, and the crate, with the man inside, was all ready for its voyage.

A soft thudding sound heralded William’s little good luck gesture. He was giving the lid a gentle, reassuring pat.

Soon the box was hefted (surely by the two), and Jane was jostled inside.

He wanted to play his harmonica but he had been warned that, no matter what happened, he couldn’t make a sound. Silence was anathema to any Soldier, but deep down, Jane knew Woody was right- a single out of place noise could get him caught. So he stayed quiet, even as the hours passed, a train whistle finally blew, and the engine- and its cargo- set out on its long journey to Coldfront.

#jane doe #william walker #elwood hansford #writing collab #zecuddlyblumedic

2 notes · View notes

lightshadowverisimilitude · 7 years

Text

Star Trek K/S Sentinel AU 1/?

With no title, of course.

Planet Vulcan, Stardate 2238.57

Spock understood that his mother was not Vulcan, and could not be held accountable for her obvious sadness when he came home from school to find her sitting at the table with her hands pressed to her face. He was a child and therefore did not have perfect control of his emotions either, though no less so than his classmates, of that he was positive. He had cried when the shatarr he’d tried to make into a pet had died, so the posture was not unfamiliar to him.

His mother did not look up as he approached, so Spock was left hovering at the table uncertainly. He reached out hesitantly to put a hand on hers. She had removed her gloves at some point, and her skin was soft and pinkish-pale under his fingertips. He felt the sucking depths of her sadness at once, felt it under his own breastbone as though it were his own sadness.

Spock’s breath caught in a sniffle, and then he was crying as well, fat, hot tears streaking down his face. Full-blooded Vulcans did not cry – it was an inefficient waste of resources on a desert world – but Spock was not, as his classmates were so fond of reminding him, a full-blooded Vulcan.

Uncurling from her slumped posture, his mother wrapped him up in her arms and pulled him forward so she could rest her cheek on the top of his head. The embrace was not appropriate, even among close family, and the heat of their bodies quickly made it stiflingly uncomfortable, but she held onto him with the desperate strength born by her grief. Spock sobbed against her chest, and she into his hair, though he still didn’t understand why they were crying.

A rustle of movement drew them apart. Spock looked up to see his father standing in the doorway, tall and severe as ever, his face – of course – emotionless as he surveyed the scene before him. Spock’s mother sat back and let go of Spock’s shoulders. She took a moment to drag her thumbs over Spock’s cheeks, wiping away the hot rivers of saline still leaking freely from his eyes. Brushing her hands off on her robes where they fell over her knees, she repeated the gesture on herself, and then patted gently at her cheeks. She set a hand back on Spock’s shoulder, her thumb resting just above the collar of his school uniform, as though she sought to feel his pulse.

“Husband,” she greeted.

Spock felt a pang of embarrassment rippling through his mother’s grief, though she did not apologize or voice her discomfort at Sarek’s arrival. It was plain to Spock that she had meant to take her grief somewhere private, but had ‘lost track’ of the passage of time. Spock took his gaze away from her swollen eyes and looked up to his father.

“Wife,” Sarek said after a moment. He transferred his dark eyes to Spock, though he did not immediately express his disappointment over Spock’s unwarranted display of emotion. Instead, he looked back to Spock’s mother and observed, “You are… upset.”

The word had no direct translation in modern Vulcan. The closest would be that she was emotionally compromised, but that was not sufficient to express the depth of her grief. Spock approved of his father’s use of the Common vocabulary in this instance.

Spock’s mother took her left hand away from his shoulder and curled it together with her right, setting them both in her lap. Her back straightened. “My mother has died,” she explained, though her words were partially obscured by a hitch in her breath, and she started to cry again. These tears were quiet, slow and thin as they trailed over her cheeks and disappeared under the curve of her jaw.

After a long moment, Sarek crossed to the table and held out his hand, first two fingers extended. “I grieve with thee,” he said solemnly, and then surprised Spock by placing his other hand on his shoulder. It was a gesture of comfort that had not been offered to him since he began primary school.

Far more surprising and unsettling than his mother’s sadness was the sudden swelling of his father’s grief. He did not make a sound, and certainly he spared no moisture in the expression of his grief, but it was just as deep, and far darker – crushing, hot like the sand of the Fire Plains of Raal. It took Spock’s breath away. Even as his mother reached out to run her two fingers over Sarek’s, Spock unthinkingly reached up to cover his father’s hand with his own. He couldn’t understand what he was doing, but he wanted to cool that hot flash of grief.

Sarek jerked his hand away sharply, head tilted to look down at Spock. “What were you doing?”

“You are sad,” Spock answered, simply. “I meant only to assist.”

“Peculiar,” Sarek said. He transferred his attention back to his wife and said, “I will arrange transport back to Earth so that you may pay your respects in the human custom.”

He left without waiting for Spock’s mother’s agreement, his hand held stiffly at his side. Spock knew that there would be a discussion later on Spock’s apparent transgression, though he could not understand what he had done wrong. It was the Vulcan way to strictly control emotion. It was also the Vulcan way to accept aid where it was necessary and warranted. To deny the need for assistance was illogical and a matter only of pride, which – Spock had been assured – Vulcan’s did not cultivate.

“Thank you, Spock,” his mother said into the ensuing silence. “I know embraces are not logical, but your mother really needed the hug.”

Spock tipped his head. “You are human. Humans require physical contact to maintain a state of psychological and emotional balance, is that not so, Mother?” This was the reason his father had given him when explaining why he engaged in significantly more physical contact with Spock’s mother than a Vulcan normally would, even in the confines of the private home.

His mother smiled at him. “It is so, Spock.”

“If that is so, expressing gratitude over the fulfillment of a necessary biological function is not logical,” he pointed out.

(mind the cut)

Perhaps emboldened by his statement – though it had been only a statement of fact – she reached forward and smoothed her hands over his head. He could still feel her grief. Where Sarek’s grief had been hot and heavy, hers was somehow deep and suffocating. It was – or so Spock postulated, having never experienced the sensation himself – what it might feel like to be plunged into one of the oceans of Earth. Yet on top of her grief, there was a lighter, warmer sensation. Spock had experienced this from her many times, and believed that it was love.

“For a seven year-old, you’re very clever,” she said.

“While I am academically ahead of many of my classmates, my intellect is not significantly beyond the expectation for Vulcan children of my age group.”

Though her face was still wet with tears, she laughed. “If you say so, it must be true.”

“Mother,” Spock explained patiently, “My ‘saying so’ does not change the veracity of the statement. It would be equally true if spoken by any other.”

“Of course.” She ran her fingertips around his collar, straightening it out, and then brushed her hands over his shoulders to smooth out the fabric. Spock reached up to take her hands. As he had done with his father, he sought to soothe the ongoing turmoil of her grief. Her breath stuttered, but she smiled at him, squeezing his fingers before gently drawing her hands from his.

After she had gotten up from the table and left to refresh herself, Spock went in search of his father. Statistically, the most likely place Spock would find him at such an hour would be the study. When he was not seated at his desk, Spock went through the rest of the house in the order of highest probability. There was only a five percent chance that Spock would find him in the gardens near the sehlat enclosure, but nonetheless, that is where he was found. Sarek stood at the fence, gazing into the stone enclosure where I’Chaya rested in the shade. Once the second sun had set, he would venture out and join Spock in his room, where he would doubtlessly beg for attention for some time before settling into his assigned duties of protecting the exterior access to Spock’s room.

“Father,” Spock said as he approached. It was an illogical habit that they cultivated for his mother’s benefit. Sarek had doubtlessly heard his approach, and as he already knew that he was Spock’s father, calling him such was redundant. Nonetheless, his mother did not have the acute hearing of a Vulcan, and so they announced themselves in this manner so as not to startle her.

“Spock,” Sarek returned, inclining his head. Spock wondered if Sarek was also contemplating the illogic of their family greeting.

The wall surrounding I-Chaya’s daytime enclosure was a stone construction that had a similar appearance to steep stairs, though not the same purpose. Rather, it was to keep curious children far enough away from the enclosure that they could not inadvertently entice I-Chaya to attack. I-Chaya had been Spock’s guardian since infancy and would never behave violently toward him, but might not be so discerning toward an unfamiliar figure – no matter the size – leaning over his enclosure. Regardless of the wall’s intended purpose, Spock stepped onto the lowest of the ‘stairs’ so he could see over the wall more easily. It was a concession to his height, otherwise he would just be staring at the stones.

“Father, I interpreted our interaction in the kitchen to be incomplete. Am I correct that you desire further conversation on some matter?” Spock said after a moment of watching I-Chaya’s familiar profile while he slept, sides heaving with his breath. Sehlats had evolved four very efficient lungs to combat the low oxygen content of Vulcan’s atmosphere.

“You are correct,” Sarek said. “Humans are often incapable of conversing on non-related topics when they are emotionally compromised. It is a concession I make for your mother in her time of grief,” he explained as though Spock might attempt to task for him it. “Explain your actions.”

Spock did not need to ask for clarity on the question, though it did make his heartbeat speed up incrementally, sparking a flutter of discomfort in his side along with a sensation not dissimilar to gastric distress. “I sensed your grief.” He kept his voice smooth and calm, belaying the curious upset in his cardiac rhythm. “I concluded this was likely in response to mother’s loss. I intended only to assist you in calming it.”

It was absurd as soon as he said aloud, and he couldn’t imagine why he would have thought that Sarek, a fully grown, full-blooded Vulcan, would require the assistance of a child to control his emotions. At the time, Spock had been nearly overwhelmed by the dual inputs from his parents and had only meant to help, exactly as he would have with any other issue that he was qualified to address.

Watching I-Chaya so he did not have to look at his father, Spock finished, “If I have erred, you need only tell me so.”

Sarek was quiet for a moment as he apparently meditated on Spock’s answer. “As you are well aware, you are a unique being, Spock. As such, your development has been unpredictable. The conclusion I have drawn based on our interactions is that some combination of your Vulcan and human genes has resulted in an expression of empathy. I do not refer to the human terminology wherein one human recognizes and sympathetically expresses the same emotion of another, but a rather a more precise form of emotional telepathy.”

Spock absorbed the information, mulling it over. All Vulcans, by virtue of their touch telepathy, had the ability to sense the emotions of others. Spock had always assumed that his own ability to sense emotions was no different from that of his peers. He felt his eyebrows drawing together and forcefully relaxed the muscles of his forehead. “Explain,” he requested.

“Among your peers as well as those five years your senior, you are in the top 94.67 percentile in your telepathic abilities. You will be tested to confirm my hypothesis, but I believe you also display far higher than average empathic abilities, perhaps owing to your human parentage. Since achieving optimal control of my emotions, I have never encountered another Vulcan outside of the temples of the mindhealers who could sense my emotions, and none at all who could manipulate them without my permission and assistance. Humans very rarely manifest a similar ability, though I understand that it is restricted only between pairs called Guides and Sentinels. Vulcans do not exhibit these genetic phenomena. For these reasons, I conclude that your apparent empathy is merely a hybrid genetic quirk, and not a manifestation of this Guide ability.”

Sarek turned finally to regard Spock. He had the dark-almost-black eyes that were common to Vulcans. Spock had heard members of other species refer to them as unfathomable. Spock’s eyes, on the contrary, favored his mother’s genes. He had been told they were ‘expressive’ too often to ignore, but he didn’t shy away from his father’s gaze.

Clasping his hands behind his back in an imitation of his father’s stance, Spock said, “I was unaware that this ability was not common among our people. I will modify my behavior accordingly.”

Sarek nodded. “That would be appropriate. To another, your assistance may be interpreted as malicious interference.”

“I understand,” Spock said, trying not to let on how badly the concept frightened him, but he could tell that his cheeks had flushed. It was unlikely that Sarek would interpret the coloring of his skin as a reaction to the late afternoon sun, but he did Spock the kindness of letting the reaction go unremarked.

“When we return from Earth, I will see to it that your empathic abilities are properly tested and recorded.”

Spock hated the incessant tests, but he understood that he – as the first and only of his kind, a hybrid – had a responsibility to submit to them for the sake of scientific study. Logically, the findings and conclusions made by the Vulcan Science Academy regarding his unique physiology may one day prove advantageous for a future human-Vulcan hybrid, or even to himself, should he later develop some unexpected condition.

“I will comply,” Spock said, though his consent was not necessary.

Sarek dipped his chin marginally in an abbreviated nod, and then returned to the house without another word. Spock certainly should have followed. His mother would soon have their evening meal prepared, and he had a full study schedule to attend to, a schedule that would only become more pressed with the upcoming departure from Vulcan. Rather than stepping off the lowest protrusion of the wall, he climbed up the steep incline and dropped into I-Chaya’s enclosure. He could have gone around to the gate, but as he had been already on the wall, it was more efficient to climb over.

I-Chaya woke from his slumber and stretched luxuriously before rising to his feet and trundling out of the shade to greet Spock. The sehlat was in his prime, and large even for a member of his formidable species. When I-Chaya stood with his head up, Spock could walk under his neck and barely brush the bottom of his chin. However, I-Chaya did not often stand with his head up, as his spine more easily accommodated a neck-down position. He butted his head into Spock’s chest, and then repeated the motion until Spock lifted his hands to scratch behind I-Chaya’s ears.

“You are spoiled,” he told the sehlat, who could neither understand him, nor respond. It had been many centuries since the secret of communicating with the sehlats had been lost, though Spock occasionally – illogically – wished that it had not been. If Vulcans could be said to have friends at all, I-Chaya was certainly Spock’s only example of one. “I will depart shortly and not return for some time. You will be cared for by a member of my father’s staff, as you have been before. They will not be so indulgent with caresses,” Spock warned him.

Uncaring, I-Chaya huffed out a hot breath, his nose moistening the front of Spock’s robes. If his father’s assessment of Spock’s empathic abilities was correct – and Spock had no reason to doubt Sarek’s conclusions – then he would have to become even more diligent in his control. Touching of any sort would be strictly out of the question, and if his abilities strengthened, as telepathic abilities often did, even being in close proximity to another Vulcan could be a serious breach of their privacy.

“I will indulge you for another three minutes only,” Spock told I-Chaya, leaning over so he could rest his cheek on the top of the sehlat’s head.

#ladyshadowdrake writes #star trek #spirk #k/s #sentinel au #bb spock

92 notes · View notes

best-information-blog · 5 years

Text

how to make instagram bio in punjabi

One tequila, two tequila, I am on the floor.

There's a remembrance stop present in my mouth, the words making tracks in an opposite direction from my lips kick the basin here

I take after that superb ocean of conclusions than can raise a tsunami at whatever point hurt

Allow them to state, I am made up for lost time with killing

Wherever I go and at whatever point I go, I spread sparkling fulfillment around

Be Young, Be Dope, Be Proud

She treasured riddles so much that she wound up one

I vibe exceptional

My coffee is hot and my eyeliner is on fleek

I am a better than average child with negative standards of conduct

People will look; I make it worth their while

I am fire and ice. People fear my cold and pine for my gleam

Why cry over stones when you don't justify anything not actually a gem?

My mind easily passes on what my soul talks

Only one out of every odd individual needs to like me, Not each individual has taste

Scratch here ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ to reveal my profile.

For more instagram bio in punjabi visit👉👉 Instagram bio in punjabi

Thermometer is no more the primary concern on the planet to have degrees without cerebrums. I do also. Finally Graduated!

Ideal a good gracious over reasoning around an envision a situation where.

Do whatever it takes not to be hesitant to be the full package.

Make concordance and keep murdering.

I am too much possessed with being enraptured by you. Would I have the capacity to neglect you later?

In case open entryway doesn't pound on your portal, build a window

We all in all have a story to tell. Will you help me recording mine?

A couple of individuals are alive basically in light of the fact that laws are approved against executing people

I have a sublime swag

For best islamic quotes visit👉👉 beautiful islamic quotes

Howdy! I am mishandling my insta handle.

Conduits never go pivot

We should enhance the world a place to live in

I know KARATE… and a few other troublesome words

Life is a shoreline. You can't avoid getting tanned while you are occupied!

Be angrily independent and fundamental

I am the principal light they examine

Superpowers? Hesitating!

I have a place significantly with my own one of a kind self

Behind my smile, is my untold story

You are so used to your features. You do not understand how brilliant you look to an outcast

Walking around an astounding ways alone

Such a fantasy we all in all are living in!

Make an effort not to stop until the point when the moment that you accomplish your objective

Lets wander where WiFi is weak

Read me steadily

Battery going to kick the basin. Finally, enabling me to continue with my life

You can't manage me. Despite whether I went with a course of action of bearings

CGPA open for gathering… can never again bear its youth cost

At the day's end, life should most likely ask us whether we have to save the movements or not.

LIT INSTAGRAM BIOS:

Basically look at me. God is unimaginably creative.

I am continuing with a caffeine subordinate living thing.

By and by you grasp why Peter Pan might not want to grow up

I am the portrayal of caffeine

Stress does not keep running with my outfit!

Why take a gander at the stars when the best star is me

I am the epitome of Friday

I've all things considered idea being prestigious on Instagram is as about as vain as being rich in syndication

Hi! Instagram is using my Data balance!

Don't dm. Perceptiveness so to speak!

I'm not by any means on the web, it's solitary an optical dream.

Drowsy is such an enormous word, I slant toward SELCETIVE PARTICIPATION!

I talk recognizable joke!

I never recall dear, it possesses me from the now!

Despised by many, required by abundance, hated by a couple, confronted by none!

Life on earth is exorbitant, yet it fuses a free trek around the sun.

In case Girls are Oscar, I am Leonardo DiCaprio.

Do whatever it takes not to contribute emotions, Love is a cheapening asset

An especially talented napper, talker, and solidified yogurt eater

I'm truly a titan cupcake. Confused about crazy rides and dry ice

Love is a medication that can murder even a hurt heart.

I believe Karma slaps you in the face just before I do!

Remember it's solitary a horrendous day, not a terrible life.

Lock in for 5 days to welcome the 2 days less all potential confinements.

Stunning terminations in "us." Too a considerable measure of luck? I think not.

Bound to express my contemplations, not to rouse general society.

If people are talking even with your great confidence, it suggests you are in the front.

If you go by the theory of science, alcohol is in a general sense an answer.

Made up for lost time with changing over oxygen into carbon dioxide for the duration of the day

Telephones these days are getting more slim and more splendid, the total inverse of the human masses these days.

Enchanting BIO FOR INSTAGRAM

I am essentially like a butterfly. Favorable circumstances trying to get me

My goals look like a phoenix. They rise back more grounded from the red hot remains

I am making sense of how to encounter energetic affections for the sound of my feet leaving things not worth my time

I am the reliance running in your veins

Possessed with building my own one of a kind area!

It is no fun clinging to the gauges

I don't recognize what number of issues I have in light of the way that math is one of them.

Perfection just emerges enough to be seen, yet my spruce character will get your heart.

Acting normally is the prettiest thing you can be.

You may have seen a lot of stunning appearances anyway here's a great soul sitting tight for you.

I might not want to take people's profile and felt extraordinarily languid to make my own.

Finding out about me won't help you with graduating

Life is too short to disguise your feelings, don't be reluctant to express it instantly

I stream against the stream

They unveiled to me I couldn't that is the reason I did.

She who embarks to stay against every one of the odds, wins.

In a relationship with my targets

I am not awesome. I am shrewd. Really, that is what I am!

Attempting to unite my vitality with my livelihood

It isn't your business to like me, it's mine

You are really where you ought to be

Life is 10% what you make it, and 90% how you take it.

Spread the kind of essentialness, you wish to get

Trying to make my mitochondria satisfied!

When I feel to some degree down, I put on my most cherished high foot raise regions and execute the best.

Words can't express my worship and affection for Fridays!

Few out of every odd individual merits a seat at your table

#new #trending #backlinks #best #funny #funny jokes #funny meme

0 notes

diariesofahajji · 6 years

Text

The 6 days of Hajj

Day 1 - Yaumul Tarwiyah

Most of us set off from Aziziyah to Mina on foot. Genius over here decided to stop to tie her shoe laces with her heavy backpack on. When I stood up a very audible and tangible snap was felt in my ankle. I bit my lip to hide the tears and soldiered on chanting that God was sufficient for me, and the best disposer of my affairs, and furiously begging “save this ankle” the entire time, because the ankle is a particularly important part of the body required for pilgrimage. By the time I got to my tent and checked it to assess the damage, the ankle was completely healed, which astonished me because I know how much pain I was in not much earlier. It was like I was the opposite of Achilles, because every other part of my body, besides my ankle, was in intense pain. Worth noting that maybe very specific supplications aren't always the best idea.

On the first day of Hajj there are no prescribed forms of ibaadah, so the day is spent in contemplation of the days to come (Yaumul Arafat and eid) and also contemplating the requests you have for God and the misdeeds you seek forgiveness for. It was also a day for engaging with your fellow pilgrims and discussing your experiences up to now. I happened to meet some fellow cat lovers, which was great because nothing draws me out of myself more than talking about Pippin. I'm not a mother, and haven't left human babies behind, but i do miss my kitty. He's my friend, who purrs my troubles away. Anyway, in the evening a storm hit Makkah and shook our humble tents in Mina rather violently. As I mentioned before, our Sheikh recited Ar Rahmaan in the middle of the storm and urged us to be more in awe of God's power than afraid. There was no point being afraid, because no matter what we did to hold the tent together, if God wanted to level it with all of us in it, He could've. Was God flexing a proverbial muscle to remind us of His Majesty? Was God sweeping our sins to Arafat a day ahead of us? Maybe the winds simply swept through to purify us for our departure to the holy centre of this planet, where Adam and Eve met after being cast out of Paradise, and where the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ delivered his last sermon, Arafat.

Day 2 - Yaumul Arafat

The typical story: Busses are delayed, poor communication results in people standing in exposed sunlight for extended periods of time. We were mostly dehydrated before we got to Arafat. An old lady saw me crouched on the floor and offered me her toasted almonds and apple juice. Her kindness revived me more than her food. Due to the temperature teetering close to 50 degrees Celsius when wuqoof started, we confined ourselves to the hot and overcrowded tent. It was hard to form a spiritual connection in these conditions. I remember crying back in Joburg when I put together my duaa book. I felt a spiritual connection then. I remember sitting in the Raudah in Madina and feeling the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ gazing at me with love and acknowledgement. I remember looking at the Kaba and feeling that there were no barriers between God and me. However in Arafat, all I could see when I looked up was a dusty tent wall. Reading through my prayer book felt like I was reading a shopping list. So I mustered up as much sincerity as I could and remembered that just physically being in this holy place helped, I remembered that the fact that I was a guest of God personally called to complete my Hajj helped, I remembered that as long as I am here (no matter what state I am in) my prayers will be answered. I've heard that with every tread of the camel that brings you to pilgrimage, a sin is wiped away. I've come from the other end on the world oh Lord, to bear witness to the favours You have bestowed upon me my whole life, and to ask that You continue to provide for me for my remaining days. Please forgive me fatigue. See that I come to you now in humbleness, clinging to my waning attention span, trying to remain awake throughout wuqoof so that i may praise you the best way I know how. Please Allah, even if my humble little duaa book did little justice, please search my heart, Oh All Seeing, All Knowing, The Omnipotent, find my deepest desires and grant those which You believe are best for me.

Once wuqoof ended we began our 14km trek to Muzdalifa to spend the night sleeping on the ground under the stars (which were completely hidden due to light pollution). As we passed Jab Al Rahmah I read the Nabi ﷺ ‘s last sermon out loud for my mother:

O People, lend me an attentive ear, for I know not whether after this year, I shall ever be amongst you again. Therefore, listen to what I am saying to you very carefully and take these words to those who could not be present here today.

O People, just as you regard this month, this day, this city as Sacred, so regard the life and property of every Muslim as a sacred trust. Return the goods entrusted to you to their rightful owners. Hurt no one so that no one may hurt you. Remember that you will indeed meet your Lord, and that He will indeed reckon your deeds. God has forbidden you to take usury (interest), therefore all interest obligation shall henceforth be waived. Your capital, however, is yours to keep. You will neither inflict nor suffer any inequity.

Beware of Satan, for the safety of your religion. He has lost all hope that he will ever be able to lead you astray in big things, so beware of following him in small things.

O People, it is true that you have certain rights with regard to your women, but they also have rights over you. Remember that you have taken them as your wives only under a trust from God and with His permission. If they abide by your right then to them belongs the right to be fed and clothed in kindness. Do treat your women well and be kind to them for they are your partners and committed helpers. And it is your right that they do not make friends with any one of whom you do not approve, as well as never to be unchaste.

O People, listen to me in earnest, worship God, perform your five daily prayers, fast during the month of Ramadan, and offer Zakat. Perform Hajj if you have the means.

All mankind is from Adam and Eve. An Arab has no superiority over a non-Arab, nor does a non-Arab have any superiority over an Arab; a white has no superiority over a black, nor does a black have any superiority over a white; [none have superiority over another] except by piety and good action. Learn that every Muslim is a brother to every Muslim and that the Muslims constitute one brotherhood. Nothing shall be legitimate to a Muslim which belongs to a fellow Muslim unless it was given freely and willingly. Do not, therefore, do injustice to yourselves.

Remember, one day you will appear before God and answer for your deeds. So beware, do not stray from the path of righteousness after I am gone.

O People, no prophet or apostle will come after me, and no new faith will be born. Reason well, therefore, O people, and understand words which I convey to you. I leave behind me two things, the Quran and my example, the Sunnah, and if you follow these you will never go astray.

All those who listen to me shall pass on my words to others and those to others again; and it may be that the last ones understand my words better than those who listen to me directly. Be my witness, O God, that I have conveyed your message to your people.”

It was at this point, in Arafat, that the following revelation was sent down to Nabi ﷺ: "…This day have I perfected your religion for you, completed My Grace upon you, and have chosen Islam for you as your religion…" (Quran 5:3)

It looked to me like 70% of all the pilgrims were making this trip on foot. The people on busses on the Bridges above us said we look like flowing water, all walking in the same direction. Almost floating. We took our sweet time, because there was literally nowhere else we had to be in the world. Some chanted Labaik in solemn and uniform minor chords which punctuated their reverence and struggle. As if in marching formation, they proclaimed to God that they were present for service. Others chanted Labaik in perfect harmonies of major chords, and it was as if the sound fluttered around your ears like tiny butterflies. It lifted the spirit and urged me on. I suppose some find Imaan in the solemnity and humility of prayer, and others find Imaan in the colour, music and harmony of this life. It wasn't difficult for me to decide which group I belonged to. We Labaiked our way to our resting place for the night, Muzdalifa. Ahead of us we saw the clock tower, sparkling like the Eiffel Tower, in celebration of Eid. It beckoned to us for Tawaaf e Ziyarah/Ifaadha, but it was just out of reach for the present moment. So we collected some pebbles, took selfies with Palestinians and rested our tired bones for the night.

Day 3 - Eid Ul Adha

At around 10am we walked to the Jamarat Complex to pelt the biggest Jamarah, Aqabah. There are three stone pillars which are pelted 7 times. The biggest of them, Aqabah, commemorates Abraham’s stoning of the devil when he tried to convince Abraham not to sacrifice his son, Ishmael. The second biggest, Wusta, commemorates Hajira’s stoning of the devil when he tried to convince her to stop the sacrificing of her son, Ishmael. The smallest, Oola, commemorates Ishmael’s stoning of the devil when he tried to convince Ishmael to put an end to his own sacrificing. Such was the firmness of their faith. From a less literal perspective, the stoning is symbolic of the pilgrim casting off their lower selves and more baser desires/needs. One also casts off a major sin with each stone throw. We were told that the devil is as close to us all as the blood in our veins. Although the evil forces of this universe were dealt a humiliating blow on Arafat, with the sins of the pilgrims being forgiven, the work of misleading Believers doesn't stop. It was hard to imagine that the devil was absent at “his” own stoning. There was violence in the eyes of people casting stones. One man charged straight through the crowd with a menacing smile on his face, which didn't look normal to me. Thousands have died in the Jamarat Complex because people lose all sense of reserve and decorum. Some primal force takes over their minds. Thereafter we waited for confirmation that our animal sacrifice had been done, cut our hair, and were officially out of the condition of Ihram. After resting for the afternoon we decided to make our way to Masjid al Haram at about 9pm for Tawaaf e Ziyarah which is a compulsory act of Hajj, and the Sa'ee which is waajib (not compulsory, but if excluded without a valid reason requires a sacrifice/charitable offering). Road Travel during the 5 days of Hajj is a nightmare! It seems that only official taxi drivers and SAPTCO busses are allowed anywhere near the Haram, and you often spend an entire week's salary on a one way trip (slight exaggeration). However, we've been told that God in His infinite Bounty and Mercy will return every cent to us which was spent during pilgrimage, so we quietly allowed them to extort us. Being drivers in Johannesburg, my mother and I happily navigated (I mean pushed our way) through the crowded Tawaaf and Sa'ee. By the time we returned to our camp, the Athan for Tahajjud began (3:30am), which meant we were gone for a full 6 hours!! So we soldiered on through our camp’s fajr salaah in congregation. Thereafter our Sheikh, who is a convert, decided to tell us his entire journey to Islam, which although interesting, could've been kept for a more reasonable hour in the day. My mother, sister and I nodded deeply off somewhere in the autobiography around the time he had to be circumcised before he could take his Shahaadah (pledge of Imaan).

Day 4, 5 and 6- 3 Days of Yaumul Tashreeq:

The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ said concerning the days of Tashreeq: “They are days of eating, drinking and remembering Allah.” Which is basically all that we did. More enlightening discussions were had, and more socialising was done. People shared what little provisions they had left, shared stories, hopes and dreams. I had a fantastic discussion with a fellow Hujaaj after pelting the Jamarat at night on one of the days of Tashreeq. We talked about everything from Oedipus Rex to Catherine de Medici, Machiavelli, to the meaning of dreams and Plato and our recognition of the form of things from our time in the spiritual realms. She comforted me immensely regarding my primitive notions of what a sin is. She told me that unless I had murdered/harmed someone without cause, or stolen the property of another, any other action in itself is not a sinful thing. It is the intention behind it, and the end (which the action is a means to) which causes the rifts between humans and God. It makes sense that God doesn't forbid certain acts and behaviours for what they are. They are forbidden because of what they draw out of us. They are forbidden because we are weak creatures with very little self control and often very little accountability. There are some questionable acts that unravel the very fabric of our societies and beings. Many may claim that they are highly functional (and often highly spiritual) alcohol drinkers, or drug users. However, as our Sheikh told us, we have a very finely tuned sin-detector inside of us, our hearts. Our hearts feel very uneasy when we partake in things that we wouldn't want anyone to know about firstly, and secondly that causel a feeling of unease inside us. Possessing taqwa requires us to ask ourselves the following question before every action, even before every thought: Would Allah be happy with me if I did/thought this?

Would I be happy with me if I did/thought this?

Armed with my new outlook on action vs intention I now have a more healthy outlook on halaal vs haraam. The lady I spoke to also told me that I was immensely fortunate to have made this journey as a 29 year old unmarried and childless woman, because I'm young enough to reinvent myself without major repurcussions and old enough to have the mental capacity to appreciate this journey. I am starting a new book of life from this day onwards, the same as the day that I was born. A second chance at life. Any Believer would tell you that Paradise is the ultimate attainment, and that it is within reach after pilgrimage, but i am excited for this life! I am excited to approach it with fresh eyes. I am excited to partake in all the halaal enjoyment that this world has to offer me, and I am excited to do my bit to leave this world just a little bit better than I found it.

The three days of Tashreeq passed as such, pelting, eating heartburn-inducing curries, sharing advice on how best to survive the toilets of Mina and remembering God. By the morning of the 6th day of Hajj we were happily on our way back to Aziziyah, which had beds and showers that were completely separate from the toilet :)

#hajj2018

1 note · View note