Read Online Star Trek V: The Final Frontier by J. M. Dillard - Free Book Online
Authors: J. M. Dillard
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to know,” Kirk told him.
Spock persisted. “Perhaps I, too, will be affected. As you are so fond of pointing out, Doctor, I
am
half human.”
McCoy’s smile faded somewhat. “I know. It certainly doesn’t show.”
“Thank you,” Spock replied.
The doctor shook his head. “This guy never changes. I insult him and he takes it as a compliment.” He reached down and refilled his cup from the bottle, then screwed the cap back on it and set it aside. When Jim looked questioningly at the amount of liquor in the cup, McCoy’s mood darkened suddenly; obviously McCoy had enjoyed a lot more bourbon than Kirk and Spock had realized. He scowled at Jim. “You know, the two of you could drive a man to drink.”
Kirk’s eyebrows flew up. “Me? What did
I
do?”
McCoy spoke with such startling vehemence that even Spock glanced up from his dinner. “You really piss me off, Jim. You’re acting like nothing at all happened today, nothing at all.” He jabbed a fork savagely in Jim’s direction. “Human life is far too precious to risk on crazy stunts like the ones you’ve been pulling lately. Maybe it hasn’t crossed that macho mind of yours, but when you fell off that mountain today, you should have been killed. If Spock hadn’t been there—”
“It crossed my mind,” Jim answered shortly, cutting him off. He didn’t want to talk about the fall. For some reason, that subject made him angry and defensive—which meant that McCoy had struck a nerve.
“And?” McCoy persisted.
Kirk took a sip of bourbon and forced the hostility back, forced himself to answer honestly. “It was very strange. There was a flash of fear the instant I realized I was going to fall, but then”—he let out his breath and stared down at his plate of beans—“I wasn’afraid at all. It was funny, but even as I was falling, I knew I wouldn’t die.”
McCoy gestured with his cup at Spock. “I thought
he
was the only one who’s immortal. That’s a very dangerous notion to entertain, Jim, particularly when white-water kayaking or climbing mountains.”
Kirk gently shook his head. “It’s not that I think I’m immortal, Bones—I haven’t fallen prey to megalomania in my old age. It’s hard to explain . . .” He paused, trying to sort out the reason; even as he said it, it was a revelation to him. “I knew I wouldn’t die because the two of you were with me.”
McCoy set down his fork and cup and stared. His pale blue eyes were very wide. “Excuse me?”
Even Spock stopped eating long enough to gaze at Kirk with intense curiosity. “Captain, I do not understand.”
Jim stared into the bright orange heat of the camp-fire. The statement surprised him as well. . . and yet he knew with heavy certainty that it was true. His friends no doubt thought he’d gone off the deep end.
And maybe they’d be right.
“I’ve always . . . I’ve always known I’ll die alone.” The words brought with them a chill of fear far more terrifying than this morning’s free-fall.
“Oh, now we’re psychic, are we?” McCoy snapped cynically, but there was a hint of good humor beneath the sarcasm; no doubt he, too, was disturbed by what Jim had said, and was trying to lighten the tone of the conversation. “In that case, I’ll just call Valhalla and reserve you a room.”
Jim managed to smile faintly at him.
Spock was frowning. “Captain . ..”
“Jim.”
“Jim. I fail to understand how you can claim to know such a thing. . . unless you are precognitive, and true precognitives are extremely rare.”
“I don’t know, Spock.” He sighed, unable to understand it himself. There was no logic to it, certainly, and yet he was as utterly convinced of it as he was of Spock and McCoy’s friendship. “I just
do,
that’s all.”
The doctor’s expression became melancholic—the bourbon, Jim wondered, or the topic of conversation?—as he gazed into the fire. His tone was thoughtful. “You know, it’s a mystery what draws the three of
Spock persisted. “Perhaps I, too, will be affected. As you are so fond of pointing out, Doctor, I
am
half human.”
McCoy’s smile faded somewhat. “I know. It certainly doesn’t show.”
“Thank you,” Spock replied.
The doctor shook his head. “This guy never changes. I insult him and he takes it as a compliment.” He reached down and refilled his cup from the bottle, then screwed the cap back on it and set it aside. When Jim looked questioningly at the amount of liquor in the cup, McCoy’s mood darkened suddenly; obviously McCoy had enjoyed a lot more bourbon than Kirk and Spock had realized. He scowled at Jim. “You know, the two of you could drive a man to drink.”
Kirk’s eyebrows flew up. “Me? What did
I
do?”
McCoy spoke with such startling vehemence that even Spock glanced up from his dinner. “You really piss me off, Jim. You’re acting like nothing at all happened today, nothing at all.” He jabbed a fork savagely in Jim’s direction. “Human life is far too precious to risk on crazy stunts like the ones you’ve been pulling lately. Maybe it hasn’t crossed that macho mind of yours, but when you fell off that mountain today, you should have been killed. If Spock hadn’t been there—”
“It crossed my mind,” Jim answered shortly, cutting him off. He didn’t want to talk about the fall. For some reason, that subject made him angry and defensive—which meant that McCoy had struck a nerve.
“And?” McCoy persisted.
Kirk took a sip of bourbon and forced the hostility back, forced himself to answer honestly. “It was very strange. There was a flash of fear the instant I realized I was going to fall, but then”—he let out his breath and stared down at his plate of beans—“I wasn’afraid at all. It was funny, but even as I was falling, I knew I wouldn’t die.”
McCoy gestured with his cup at Spock. “I thought
he
was the only one who’s immortal. That’s a very dangerous notion to entertain, Jim, particularly when white-water kayaking or climbing mountains.”
Kirk gently shook his head. “It’s not that I think I’m immortal, Bones—I haven’t fallen prey to megalomania in my old age. It’s hard to explain . . .” He paused, trying to sort out the reason; even as he said it, it was a revelation to him. “I knew I wouldn’t die because the two of you were with me.”
McCoy set down his fork and cup and stared. His pale blue eyes were very wide. “Excuse me?”
Even Spock stopped eating long enough to gaze at Kirk with intense curiosity. “Captain, I do not understand.”
Jim stared into the bright orange heat of the camp-fire. The statement surprised him as well. . . and yet he knew with heavy certainty that it was true. His friends no doubt thought he’d gone off the deep end.
And maybe they’d be right.
“I’ve always . . . I’ve always known I’ll die alone.” The words brought with them a chill of fear far more terrifying than this morning’s free-fall.
“Oh, now we’re psychic, are we?” McCoy snapped cynically, but there was a hint of good humor beneath the sarcasm; no doubt he, too, was disturbed by what Jim had said, and was trying to lighten the tone of the conversation. “In that case, I’ll just call Valhalla and reserve you a room.”
Jim managed to smile faintly at him.
Spock was frowning. “Captain . ..”
“Jim.”
“Jim. I fail to understand how you can claim to know such a thing. . . unless you are precognitive, and true precognitives are extremely rare.”
“I don’t know, Spock.” He sighed, unable to understand it himself. There was no logic to it, certainly, and yet he was as utterly convinced of it as he was of Spock and McCoy’s friendship. “I just
do,
that’s all.”
The doctor’s expression became melancholic—the bourbon, Jim wondered, or the topic of conversation?—as he gazed into the fire. His tone was thoughtful. “You know, it’s a mystery what draws the three of
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