DEGUELLO - Epilogue
by Trish Bennett
Kirk was adjusting the collar of his dress uniform when the door buzzer sounded.
"Come," he called loudly.
McCoy ambled through the doors as they opened, tugging at the collar of his own uniform. "I hate this thing!" he mumbled grumpily. "Starfleet tailors are really just Engineering drop-outs, aren't they?"
Kirk grinned and moved toward his desk as the Doctor dropped himself heavily onto the sofa.
"Are you ready for this?" McCoy asked.
Kirk sighed deeply, then nodded as he lowered himself into his chair. "I think so."
McCoy studied him closely. "So what's wrong?"
The Captain shook his head. "I was just thinking...how inferior the Organians always make me feel."
"Maybe that's because we are."
"I know. It's just not a pleasant feeling to realize you're not as civilized as you like to think you are."
McCoy shrugged. "Yeah, but you've got to realize it took centuries of evolution to get where we are right now. I kind of see the Organians as something for us to look forward to."
"Maybe."
"Besides," McCoy continued, "I don't think we're so bad off the way we are. At least we've developed beyond the point of killing each other for no reason. I think once we reach the point where we can accept other species the way we've accepted our own, we'll be doing pretty well."
Kirk eyed him slyly. "Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. Doctor, I believe you're beginning to sound like Spock."
McCoy's eyes widened in mock horror. "Oh, God! I am!"
The Captain chuckled lightly. "Don't worry, Bones. Your secret is safe with me."
The door buzzer sounded again, and Kirk called for Spock to enter. He stepped into the room as the doors opened, looking relaxed and confident.
"Captain," the Vulcan acknowledged quickly.
McCoy winked impishly at Kirk. "His ears must be burning."
Spock offered him a puzzled glance, then raised his hand to finger the tip of one ear. "Is there a reason they should be, Doctor?"
Kirk chuckled again and shook his head in amazement. "How do you two ever manage when I'm not here?"
McCoy shrugged. "I just ignore him. He usually goes away."
"Indeed, Captain," Spock agreed. "The problem is finding a moment when the Doctor is not talking so that I can make a polite departure."
Kirk rose smoothly from his chair and reached for a single rose from the corner of his desk.
"Come on, you two," he said, heading for the door. "We still have a duty to perform."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The chapel was already filled with people when they arrived for the memorial service. Kirk paused a moment just inside the doorway as Spock and McCoy took their places in the front row of the assembly.
The two black caskets sat in front of the podium at the head of the chapel. Between them sat a table, adorned only by the holographic image of Lieutenant Foster.
Kirk breathed deeply before moving to stand behind the podium. He carefully avoided eye contact with the crew as he spoke.
"We are gathered here today to pay final respects to our fallen comrades. Times like these tend to remind us of the great danger and sacrifice that we face each day in the service of the Federation."
Kirk voice softened noticeably. "But I hope we can also remember that peace and freedom in our galaxy is worthy of the price we sometimes have to pay...and that is the reason all of us are here."
The Captain inhaled deeply as he gazed down at the caskets before him, then finally into the faces of his crew.
"Our friends gave their lives in the performance of their duties. For that, they have our eternal gratitude."
Spock rose smoothly from his chair, as if on cue. "Attention!" he said crisply.
The entire audience rose in a moment of silence for their departed colleagues. The First Officer waited patiently before he finally spoke again.
"Dismissed."
Kirk moved from behind the podium to place the single rose on the casket of Martina Girard. He lingered there only a moment, then straightened his shoulders and headed for the doors.
The rest of the crew gave him a moment, the one by one began to file out of the chapel.
Doctor McCoy watched after them sullenly before moving toward the casket. He picked up the card that was attached to the Captain's offering and unfolded it to find a Shakespearean sonnet printed neatly inside.
It read:
When to the sessions of sweet, silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long-since-cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd, and sorrows end.
by Trish Bennett
Kirk was adjusting the collar of his dress uniform when the door buzzer sounded.
"Come," he called loudly.
McCoy ambled through the doors as they opened, tugging at the collar of his own uniform. "I hate this thing!" he mumbled grumpily. "Starfleet tailors are really just Engineering drop-outs, aren't they?"
Kirk grinned and moved toward his desk as the Doctor dropped himself heavily onto the sofa.
"Are you ready for this?" McCoy asked.
Kirk sighed deeply, then nodded as he lowered himself into his chair. "I think so."
McCoy studied him closely. "So what's wrong?"
The Captain shook his head. "I was just thinking...how inferior the Organians always make me feel."
"Maybe that's because we are."
"I know. It's just not a pleasant feeling to realize you're not as civilized as you like to think you are."
McCoy shrugged. "Yeah, but you've got to realize it took centuries of evolution to get where we are right now. I kind of see the Organians as something for us to look forward to."
"Maybe."
"Besides," McCoy continued, "I don't think we're so bad off the way we are. At least we've developed beyond the point of killing each other for no reason. I think once we reach the point where we can accept other species the way we've accepted our own, we'll be doing pretty well."
Kirk eyed him slyly. "Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. Doctor, I believe you're beginning to sound like Spock."
McCoy's eyes widened in mock horror. "Oh, God! I am!"
The Captain chuckled lightly. "Don't worry, Bones. Your secret is safe with me."
The door buzzer sounded again, and Kirk called for Spock to enter. He stepped into the room as the doors opened, looking relaxed and confident.
"Captain," the Vulcan acknowledged quickly.
McCoy winked impishly at Kirk. "His ears must be burning."
Spock offered him a puzzled glance, then raised his hand to finger the tip of one ear. "Is there a reason they should be, Doctor?"
Kirk chuckled again and shook his head in amazement. "How do you two ever manage when I'm not here?"
McCoy shrugged. "I just ignore him. He usually goes away."
"Indeed, Captain," Spock agreed. "The problem is finding a moment when the Doctor is not talking so that I can make a polite departure."
Kirk rose smoothly from his chair and reached for a single rose from the corner of his desk.
"Come on, you two," he said, heading for the door. "We still have a duty to perform."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The chapel was already filled with people when they arrived for the memorial service. Kirk paused a moment just inside the doorway as Spock and McCoy took their places in the front row of the assembly.
The two black caskets sat in front of the podium at the head of the chapel. Between them sat a table, adorned only by the holographic image of Lieutenant Foster.
Kirk breathed deeply before moving to stand behind the podium. He carefully avoided eye contact with the crew as he spoke.
"We are gathered here today to pay final respects to our fallen comrades. Times like these tend to remind us of the great danger and sacrifice that we face each day in the service of the Federation."
Kirk voice softened noticeably. "But I hope we can also remember that peace and freedom in our galaxy is worthy of the price we sometimes have to pay...and that is the reason all of us are here."
The Captain inhaled deeply as he gazed down at the caskets before him, then finally into the faces of his crew.
"Our friends gave their lives in the performance of their duties. For that, they have our eternal gratitude."
Spock rose smoothly from his chair, as if on cue. "Attention!" he said crisply.
The entire audience rose in a moment of silence for their departed colleagues. The First Officer waited patiently before he finally spoke again.
"Dismissed."
Kirk moved from behind the podium to place the single rose on the casket of Martina Girard. He lingered there only a moment, then straightened his shoulders and headed for the doors.
The rest of the crew gave him a moment, the one by one began to file out of the chapel.
Doctor McCoy watched after them sullenly before moving toward the casket. He picked up the card that was attached to the Captain's offering and unfolded it to find a Shakespearean sonnet printed neatly inside.
It read:
When to the sessions of sweet, silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long-since-cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd, and sorrows end.