Empty Spaces

By Westel

No infringement upon the rights of Gene Roddenberry, his estate(s), or Paramount is intended. I have borrowed these beloved characters for a little while, but they are sadly not my own. It is out of love only that this story has been written, and not for monetary gain whatsoever. – W

ooOOoo

Introduction

I suppose every author has a reason for writing a story, admittedly or not. I have always admired the friendship shared among Spock, Kirk and McCoy and the special rapport they enjoyed over the years of the original mission. Therefore I was dismayed at the change I saw in Star Trek: The Motion Picture. Where had the closeness gone? Why had Spock lost so much ground in accepting himself? What were the circumstances of McCoy's resignation from Starfleet?

I'm sure many authors have dealt with these questions, but in my limited reading I have failed to come across their explanations. Therefore I took upon myself to examine the three friendships under a microscope of tremendous testing and hardship. I wanted to show that the fabric of the relationships would not wear, but could be altered – stretched as it were.

One other subject I wanted to broach was a tendency, among some excellent writers, to exclude McCoy from the "close" relationship that Kirk and Spock shared via the mind link. Until I meet a Vulcan personally, I am not in a position to judge this as a physiological fact. However, I am of the strong opinion that psionic abilities or not, friendships are based upon much more than the efficiency of communication. This story, in measure, satisfies me to that end. I hope in its telling that it satisfies the readers, as well.

This novelette was published originally in 1994 by Peg Kennedy and Bill Hupe. The work is entirely my own, published under my real name, however, which I do not care to disclose via fanfictiondotcom. If you've run across this 14-year-old tome, give me a yell! - W

Prologue

"What a thing friendship is, world without end!"

A Death in the Desert

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Another five-year mission. The words echoed hollowly in his memory as Kirk navigated the twisted, ancient forest path which wound for miles back into the Virginia wilderness. He had been hiking steadily for hours that afternoon, trying to take his mind off things – things like Starfleet's recent assignment offer. Naturally, he could turn I down, but he'd been given precious little time to even think about it. Damn Nogura's abruptness, anyway! The Enterprise hadn't been in dry-dock four days before the admiral had approached him.

Jim knew Nogura well enough to see through his scheme. He had always had big plans for Kirk, 'the youngest captain in the fleet.' Of course, that wasn't true anymore. Captain Jarrefs was the current holder of that title – 33 years old, recently promoted and given the refitted Hood. Kirk realized, wryly, that this would be the first of many such titles or records, or whatever names people chose to give them, which would fall to others during the course of time.

He stumbled over a rock hidden beneath last year's leaves, grabbing a sapling to keep from falling. His eyes, downcast, had not seen the purple clouds on the horizon darkening to black, but the sudden bursts of hot wind tearing at the foliage jerked him from his reverie. Heavy drops of a midsummer storm pattered around him, making tiny explosions in the dust at his feet. A blue firebrand seared the sky above and touched a distant mountain. Kirk waited, counting slowly, until the thunderclap burst forth, bouncing in fading echoes from ridge to ridge. A mile away, he thought, woodenly.

Another bolt of lightning slashed diagonally across the horizon, but he hardly reached the count of 'two' before the thunder exploded, sounding remarkably like a photon battery. The rain, falling in earnest now, brought up smells of parched earth and dust-laden undergrowth, quickly followed by a sweet, moist scent of herbs and grasses. It penetrated his unprotected clothing, cooling his perspiring flesh, and he shivered, unsure of whether to go on or postpone ascent until the following day. The memory of that last conversation with Nogura troubled, wearied him.

The admiral's tactics were plain enough. Kirk, returning triumphantly from a successful five-year mission, would be elevated to the more diplomatic ranks of Starfleet, rubbing elbows with Federation ambassadors, used to augment the somewhat mundane politics of a semi-military organization, and beef up diplomatic relations between the Federation and those new worlds who were familiar with its representative – James Kirk. The plan had been laid out beautifully: diplomatic ties, status, wealth, less travel (at least less hazardous travel), a secure future. There was only one problem with this plan – a former starship captain who wasn't particularly excited about a desk job. Given any title, any wage, any prestige – to Kirk it was still a desk job.

But Nogura was ready for Kirk's reaction. After all, he hadn't attained his rank by playing cribbage for twenty years. He knew that Jim, weary from the finished mission, would be susceptible to persuasion if given certain less attractive alternatives. Therefore he offered Kirk two other options: retain his command of the Enterprise for another five-year mission, or go undercover on a clandestine operation. Given these options alone, Nogura had no doubt Jim would have chosen the first, being who and what he was. But it was then that Nogura informed Kirk that whatever mission he decided to take, Spock would not be with him. The Vulcan's orders were already outlined: assume the captaincy of the Enterprise on her second mission (should Kirk refuse the post), or take assignment as first officer aboard he new Intrepid. Either way, Kirk had lost Spock.

Nogura gave Jim ten weeks, the time the Enterprise would be in dry-dock, to make up his mind.

Jim looked ahead to the darkened path which lay before him, realizing he could go no farther that day. Resignedly, he turned back to camp, cursing himself for neglecting to bring a light. The rain came in sheets now, turning the path into a small river, and the moisture penetrating his boots promised uncomfortable walking the next day. Water streamed into his eyes as he navigated by frequent shafts of lightning, hoping that one of them wouldn't choose him as a target.

Finally, he saw the tent just ahead in the storm's ragged illumination, and ran toward it. Once inside, he pulled off his wet boots and set them near the portable heater, its warmth welcome in the rain-washed chill. For awhile he was preoccupied with homely duties – getting into dry clothes, making coffee. But as he settled in for the night, the coffee mug warming his hands and the heater purring gently in the background, he found he could no longer ignore Nogura's manipulations.

Jim lay on one side, propped on an elbow, listening to the dying wind and the last raindrops spattering on the tent above him. Back on the Enterprise – out there: more worlds, more unknowns – that was what he had trained all his adult life for; that was what his first and most desired choice would be. But without Spock. . . His heart twisted strangely and he gripped the mug until the knuckles turned white. Not just Spock, either. McCoy was far too valuable a medical officer to be scuttlebutted of somewhere. He'd be reassigned to another starship or high-ranking medical facility, as far away and out of reach as Spock – Nogura would see to that. But what were the other alternatives? Jim knew he would hate the stale diplomacy of a Starfleet operations position. No, that was definitely not an option he would choose, under any circumstances.

So where does that leave me?

He set down the cooling coffee and shrugged kinks out of his shoulders, realizing he had very little choice, after all. If he took this undercover assignment, however, he may still have time to decide about assuming command of the Enterprise. Perhaps a change would be good and, if he couldn't have his two closest friends by his side, it would be best to go away, and to go alone. . .

His sigh was almost sorrowful as he turned off the lamp and settled into the sleeping bag. Responsibilities and duties had a way of manipulating people, even the closest of friends, often separating them – sometimes forever.

Kirk felt his life, so intermeshed with Spock, McCoy and the crew of the Enterprise, fade into history as certainly as the receding storm, its fury spent and its brilliant display only a dying memory in the night.