DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters
are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the
creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2003 by Djinn. This story
is Rated PG-13.
Divine Torture
by Djinn
"Dilithium readings
quite strong just ahead, sir," Ensign Forman said as he turned to Kirk.
"Let's get down fast. We
want to avoid contact with the native population," the captain said.
The shuttle slowed, then
dropped like a stone, making Chapel's stomach lurch uncomfortably. She sat in
the back of the craft, still irritated that she was included in this landing
party. She'd planned to fritter—or possibly just sleep—the rest of her day away
after several very long shifts in sickbay. A freak ion storm had played havoc
with the ship and the crew, leaving damage and many injured. McCoy had been
hurt while trying to help a fallen crewman, and was now recuperating crankily
in his quarters. The rest of the doctors were filling in for the CMO and, as
deputy CMO, she'd been doing more than her share. She was bone tired and not
even sure why they needed a doctor on this trip. She looked over at Spock. Couldn't
he have just asked for a nurse or a medic like usual? She assumed he'd
specifically requested her, but why?
If the transporters hadn't
been offline, they could have just beamed in and out. But the damn things
weren't working, so they'd been forced to take the shuttle. Forman piloted
well, thank God, touching down gently. Chapel didn't like shuttles. Too many
things seemed to go wrong. Give her a good transporter beam, scattered atoms
and all.
The science crew filed out quickly,
setting up the camouflage beacons that would hide the shuttle from the
primitive natives of the planet. Spock walked after them, fine-tuning the
beacons as he went.
She looked over at Kirk and imagined
he didn't like being forced to take dilithium from a world that had no say in
the matter. But they weren't going to take much, and if they didn't take it,
the Enterprise was never going to leave the planet's orbit. Scotty had kept the
engines going through the storm, but the strain had fried the dilithium. They'd
barely had the power to get this far. Earth or anywhere else was out of the
question unless they found new crystals.
Fortunately, this world had
an abundance of them. They just needed to extract some and get out without
contaminating the indigenous population.
Kirk walked back to where she
still sat in the shuttle. "Pouting?"
She looked up at him in
surprise. "Sir?"
"You've been filling in
for McCoy with barely a break, Doctor. I thought you needed a change."
This had been his doing? "With
all due respect, sir. My quarters would have been sufficient change."
"But boring, Chapel. Really
boring." He grinned. "Come on, get some fresh air."
She sighed dramatically and
he rolled his eyes. Smiling despite her grumpy mood, she got up and followed
him out. The science crew was already taking readings in preparation for
drilling, which could take hours if the dilithium was very far down. Chapel's
bed seemed even further away.
"Look at this place."
Kirk walked to where the beacons jutted out forming a pocket of safe ground. He
smiled at her. "Like ancient Greece."
"Whatever you say,
sir." The warm breeze wafted across the field they had set down in. The
air smelled of grass and wildflowers, and the sun beat down pleasantly. She
smiled.
"See, it's doing you
good already." He pointed down at some herbivores that were going back to
grazing after having scattered at the shuttle's approach. "God, it's
pristine here."
"Pristine usually means
no nice sheets or indoor plumbing. I like my creature comforts...well,
comfortable."
He shook his head. "Haven't
you ever gone camping, Chapel?"
"Sure
I have. I hated it." She sat down on the grass.
"You don't like sleeping
in the open air?"
She laughed. "Only to
wake up covered with bug bites?"
"There's such a thing as
bug repellent." He sat down next to her. "You can't tell me that
there's no appeal to a big bonfire?"
She shook her head. "Biggest
wildfire hazard there is."
"You have no sense of
adventure."
"So
I've been told." She stretched out on the grass. Then felt guilty. "Am
I supposed to be doing something?"
"Nope. Me neither."
He picked a piece of grass, stuck it in his mouth, and sucked on it happily.
"You have no idea where
that's been."
He laughed. "It's been
here. I have no idea what might have been on it."
"Same difference." She
smiled and felt herself relaxing. Maybe she had needed a change? She yawned. No,
what she needed was sleep. "I could have done nothing up on the ship,
sir."
"Change is good,
Chapel." He took a deep breath and smiled as if there was no better place
to be than in this field.
"Change is good. But
being useful is also good. I'm not sure why I'm here."
"You just never let
things go, do you?" He took a deep breath. "You're here because I
feel guilty."
She frowned. "For
what?"
"Demoting you. CMO
should have been your post, not McCoy's. Because of me, he gets all the
excitement. I just thought you might want some."
"Is this what we're
calling excitement these days?" She laughed. "Watching clouds sweep
by? Trying not to get shat upon by cow-things?"
He chuckled. "Sometimes
it is. After V'ger, I'll take it."
She nodded and thought about
Decker, hoped he was happy forever united with the Ilia probe.
Kirk seemed to be reading her
mind. "Do you think they made it?"
She looked over at him. "Will
and Ilia, you mean?"
He nodded.
"It's a nice
thought."
He nodded. "Love
forever." His look clouded.
"Are you all right,
sir?" He seemed unusually pensive.
He nodded.
She heard a strange noise and
saw Kirk's brow furrow as he turned to look. Sitting up, she stared down to where
he was looking.
A crowd of natives was
walking toward the shuttle. She scanned them with her tricorder. Healthy and a
mix of ages and sexes.
And well armed.
"Spock, we've got
company." Kirk sounded mildly concerned. "You're sure they can't see
us?"
Spock called out from where
he was taking readings behind them, "I set the beacons myself,
Captain."
"Not exactly an
answer," Chapel muttered. "They look awfully excited for people who
can't see us, don't they?"
The natives were headed right
for the two of them, expressions of wonder on their face.
Chapel turned around and
gulped. The shuttle had disappeared. She and Kirk sat between two apparently
non-functioning beacons. "We have a big problem."
Kirk didn't turn. "No,
the beacons will stun anyone that gets too close. Or we have gas to make them
all go to sleep if they decide to rush the shuttle en
masse."
"No, sir, we don't. They
have it in the shuttle. The invisible shuttle that we can't get to now because
of the stun-beacons."
Kirk whipped around, then got
up quickly. "They've seen us, Spock." He reached for where he thought
the shuttle was then jerked his hand back. "Spock. Get that damn dilithium
out of the ground and back up to the ship."
Spock's voice was as close as
the beacons would allow. "Jim, what are you planning?"
Kirk looked out at the
natives, most of whom were armed with long spears. He shot her a glance. "Hope
you like to run?"
"I don't." She took
a deep breath and got ready to do it anyway. "But I can."
"Don't run in a straight
line, weave as you go. I don't want you to end up with one of those spears in
your back."
She was about to take off
when the first of the natives fell to the ground, spear held in his
outstretched hands. The rest of the people followed suit, prostrating
themselves to Kirk and Chapel.
The first native sat up, a
look of delighted wonder on his face. "It's you. You have come. Finally. Be
at peace, oh most powerful ones. We bid welcome to Sorla
and Lasish."
She looked at Kirk. He
mouthed 'One-way' and she changed her automatic translator to incoming translation
only.
"I don't think they're
going to hurt us," she said.
"I agree."
"They speak in
tongues," one of the natives cried, falling to the ground and writhing in
some weird kind of fit.
"Do you think he needs a
doctor?" Chapel asked, not really wanting to wade in.
"Oh, great gods." The
elder stepped closer as Kirk mouthed 'Gods?' at Chapel. "It's just as the
prophecies said it would be. We saw the falling brightness in the distance on
this most sacred of your days when we had all gathered at the holy site. We
rushed here, to see the emergence of our gods from the nothingness that is your
noble domain."
The crowd had begun a low
chant. "Sorla...Lasish...Sorla...Lasish."
We seek to honor you, great
ones."
"If there's a bed in
this deal, I'm taking it," Chapel whispered.
Kirk glared at her.
The elder looked hurt. "You
will not speak to us in the language of your people? But you understand
me?"
Kirk nodded.
The elder looked appeased.
Kirk turned to her. "Better
silence and a few hurt feelings than risk contamination through something we
say." He turned so that the natives couldn't see him say to Spock,
"How much time do you need?"
Spock's voice was a
near-whisper. "An hour should be sufficient to extract the dilithium. Another
hour to deliver it to the ship and return for you."
"We've already blown
first-contact, Spock. Might as well buy you the time you need."
"Jim, this is ill advised."
"Spock, without that
dilithium, the ship is going nowhere fast. And two hours
worth of contamination will seem like nothing if we have to beam the
crew down here to survive."
There was a long pause. "Agreed."
"We'll try to get away
in two hours. But you may need to come get us."
"Understood, sir. Captain,
Doctor Chapel, be careful."
Jim turned around. "Ready,
Doctor?"
She laughed. She could have
sworn that Kirk was actually enjoying this. "What the hell. I've always
wanted to be a god."
"I've been one. It's
overrated." His face clouded for a moment.
She remembered the planet
where they'd found Kirk with no memory, living among the Indians as a god. A
fallen god, nearly stoned to death by his own people. His wife had died, their
unborn child with her. Chapel and McCoy had done everything they could for her.
It hadn't been enough.
Chastened, she followed Kirk
and the natives away from the shuttle, trying not to look longingly back at
their only way home.
They walked for a good twenty
minutes crossing the field and then entering a wooded area before coming to a
clearing. Four tall columns rose high, running along the back of a huge slab of
what looked like marble. Something white and gold sat on the slab, but they
were hustled past before Chapel could get a good look.
"Our temple?" she
asked Kirk.
He shrugged.
The natives kept going,
toward a huge table laden with food and drink of all sorts. It smelled
terrific.
The rumbling in her stomach
reminded her that she'd skipped lunch. She heard Kirk's do the same. "Hungry,
sir?"
He nodded.
She scanned the food. "It's
safe to eat." She watched the visitors. "If we're invited."
"I thought you just
wanted to sleep?"
"Eating's good
too."
"Sorla
and Lasish, you have traveled far to come to us. We
honor you with this your ritual feast." The elder indicated the table. Then
he clapped his hands. A young man and woman separated from the crowd. "And
these are your most worthy attendants."
The two attendants were dressed
in extreme finery compared to the other natives. They were bowing and scraping
like the rest, but something in their expression conveyed more resentment than
respect.
Kirk moved closer to her. "Our
mortal representations?"
"I think so."
"And none too happy
about being made our servants."
She nodded and smiled at her
attendant but was met by a blank stare. "Definitely not happy."
"Eat. Drink. We will not
touch food until you do," the elder said.
Kirk smiled. "Well, we
can't let them starve." He filled a plate with lots of small portions. At
her look, he smiled. "I'm a veteran of too many functions. Never know if
you'll like something. Better to take some of everything, then be stuck with
something you hate."
She laughed. "That's
been your approach to women too, hasn't it?"
He shrugged and smiled, but
she thought she saw something in his eyes, something that said that he didn't
think the joke was very funny.
"I'm sorry. That wasn't
nice."
"Don't sweat it, Sorla. Or are you Lasish?"
"Beats me." She
filled up a plate and followed him as their attendants led them to what was
probably supposed to have been their table. It was gaily decorated, with very
soft cushions. "I'd hate us too, if I were them. They've probably waited
their whole lives to play the gods."
Kirk suddenly frowned,
stopped mid-bite. "They don't kill their gods at the end of the ceremony,
do they?"
She scanned the area,
cross-referencing the readings against what she already had scanned of the
natives. "No indication that blood has been spilled here." She went
back to eating.
"So
either they don't, or they do but somewhere else." Kirk dug into his meal.
"The gods have
eaten," the elder suddenly announced loudly.
The crowd began to chant a
new word. "Sorlish, Sorlish,
Sorlish."
"The gods have barely
eaten," Chapel said as her attendant took the plate away from her and
dragged her out of the chair. "Hey!"
She glanced back and saw that
Kirk was being manhandled out of his chair too. They were led toward a tent,
one in which several extra-large attendants stood at guard.
"That other place I
mentioned?"
"No, I scanned the whole
area."
Her attendant nearly threw
her into the tent, the guards stepping aside just in time to let her pass. Kirk
followed.
The tent was set up with two
steaming bathtubs.
"What was that you were
saying about indoor plumbing, Doctor?"
"Okay, the tubs are
indoors, but the plumbing isn't."
He shot her a look. "You'll
argue to the bitter end, won't you?"
"I'm hoping this isn't
the bitter end." She suddenly had a sinking feeling. "What if they
drown them?"
"The gods?"
Chapel nodded. "The
blood would be minimal. Only from the ears and not even necessarily that. The
tricorder might not have picked it up." She gulped. "Or it could just
be to get us clean for some other non-bloody way to kill us. Like suffocation. Or
ritual strangling."
"You're so much fun,
Chapel. Remind me not to take you on a landing party again."
"I didn't want to be on
this one, Captain." Her attendant began to strip off her uniform.
Kirk hurriedly turned around.
"If you need my help, just yell. But on the off chance that they aren't
going to kill us, I think I'll be a gentleman." His voice went higher on
the last word.
Chapel assumed it was when
his attendant ripped his uniform off too. "You okay?"
"Just dandy."
She had the sense he was
gritting his teeth as he said it.
Her attendant pushed her
toward the bathtub. "You must get clean. For Sorlish."
Clean, not dead. Chapel
decided not to struggle, grabbed the tricorder back from the woman, and allowed
herself to be maneuvered into the tub. She pointed at a stool, refused to sit
down until the woman brought it close and Chapel could set the tricorder on it.
Then she sank into the water and sighed as the warmth surrounded her. The water
was scented, rose-like flowers floating gently on the top. "Oh, wow."
She averted her eyes as Kirk
was similarly pushed into his bath. He sat tensely for a moment. Then the
attendants stepped away and he relaxed.
"Sorla...Lasish...Sorla...Lasish," the droning chanting came from outside.
"Have you figured out
which one you are," Chapel asked as her attendant approached with a brush
and pushed her forward so she could scrub her back. Chapel smiled, absently
playing with one of the flowers floating in her bathwater.
"Nope." Kirk sighed
contentedly across from her. His bathtub was filled with some combination of
herbs that smelled as delicious as her flowers. He was leaning back, eyes
closed, and looking very relaxed.
She took the glass of wine
one of the attendants offered her, reached for the tricorder and scanned it. "Don't
drink the wine, sir."
"Poisoned?" He
opened his eyes, saw more of her than he clearly expected to, and shut them
again quickly. "Sorry."
"It's okay." She
tried not to blush—or laugh in utter embarrassment. "It's laced with an
aphrodisiac."
There was a long silence,
then he said, "That might explain the baths."
"I was thinking the same
thing."
"How much
aphrodisiac?"
She put the tricorder down
and set the wine next to it. "A lot." She decided not to postulate a
unit of measurement for aphrodisiac effectiveness.
"They don't drink,"
her attendant said to Kirk's.
"They must drink,"
the other one replied.
"Your suggestion,
Doctor?"
"Well, they don't appear
to have the technology to inject us with the stuff." She leaned back,
pushing the attendant away.
"That's good." He
relaxed deeper into his tub and opened his eyes slowly. He seemed relieved to see that she'd also
submerged, naughty bits safely hidden.
"But they could force
the wine down our throats. There's a tube over there on one of the tables,
possibly made from animal organs."
"That sounds
pleasant." He sighed. "Your call."
She looked over at her wine. "They
might be less suspicious if we took a sip?"
She reached for the glass,
nonchalantly sipped at it. Realized how thirsty she was and how good the wine
smelled and forced herself to put the glass down.
He followed suit. "Seems
like nice wine. Under other circumstances..."
"Yeah."
"They must drink it
all." Kirk's attendant scowled. "Sorlish
must happen."
Kirk's eyes met her. "It
occurs to me that Sorlish is the two names joined
together."
She nodded.
"So
they want us to..." He started to chuckle. "This is the landing party
from hell." He threw her a look as if to show he didn't mean to insult
her. "No offense."
"None taken."
His attendant held out the
wine. "Drink." As respect went, there wasn't a lot of it in his
expression.
Chapel decided they weren't
to be killed. She couldn't imagine these two minding
losing their roles this much if death was the final outcome of the ritual.
Two more natives brushed the
entry curtain aside and came to the tubs. They held clothing. If one could call
something totally transparent clothing.
"Uh, sir?"
He opened his eyes, took in
the outfits that were being shaken out. "Oh, good God. They can't be
serious."
"For Lasish,"
his attendant murmured, holding out a sheer kilt-like outfit.
"Well, one mystery
solved," Chapel said softly.
Kirk glared at her then
nodded at her attendants imperiously. "Yeah, let's see hers."
They held out the long dress.
It had a slit up the middle that nearly met the very low v-neck
of the top part. The fabric was a sheer yellow, just like Kirk's.
Kirk grinned. "This
should be interesting.
"Sorla,"
her attendant said, pulling her out of the water.
Kirk made to avert his eyes,
but then his attendants pulled him out too.
Chapel could have sworn she
caught him checking her out. Never mind the fact that she shouldn't have been
looking at him at all.
Her attendants pulled the
gown over her head.
"Yellow really isn't my
color," she said as she turned and saw Kirk being dressed. Yellow wasn't
his color either. Or maybe it was just that he appeared to be blushing with his
entire body and the red sort of clashed.
He turned and glared at her. "Eyes
up, Doctor."
"Aye-aye," she
said, turning, but not before she caught him staring at her butt. "And you
too, sir."
"Right."
Their first attendants
conferred so quietly that Chapel couldn't make out what they were saying. Then
one of them picked up the wine glass and walked over to her. "You must
drink."
She shook her head.
Kirk's attendant began to
unroll the long, not particularly clean-looking tube. He looked like he'd enjoy
using it on her.
"Sir?"
"This aphrodisiac, did
it scan as sedating or hallucinogenic?"
"No."
The attendant held out the
glass one more time.
"Drink it, Chapel."
She took the glass and took a
sip. The attendants waited. She took a larger sip, then tried to put the glass
down only to see the one holding the tube lift it up with an evil-looking grin.
"Fine." She drained
the glass. "And by the way, this is no way to treat your gods."
The attendants just stared at
her, longsuffering expressions in place, simmering resentment barely hidden. They
turned to Kirk. He didn't wait for them to threaten him. Just drank the goblet
down.
"Good wine," he
said, as he put the glass down.
"I know. Too bad it's
drugged." She didn't feel anything yet. No lightheadedness, no amorous
feelings. "You okay?"
"So far."
"Sorlish
can begin," the attendants said, bowing as they none too gently pushed
Kirk and Chapel out of the tent and into the crowds.
Chapel tried to cover up,
knew that was impossible. As she walked past the people, they reached out
reverently, touching her...everywhere.
"Sorla,"
they moaned.
She tried to push them away.
"Don't," Kirk said.
"We want them to keep thinking we're gods. Gods wouldn't be embarrassed at
this."
She shot him a look. "Are
you?"
He grinned, or grimaced,
obviously trying for a cocky expression.
"Is that to keep my
spirits up?"
"Nope. Mine. You're on
your own." His grin this time was real.
And it was impossible to
resist. She shook her head as she grinned back. "So, when the chips are
down, you're only going to look out for yourself, eh?"
"Got that right." But
he moved closer to her.
The crowd parted. Ahead of
them, set up in front of the columns, was the gold thing she'd noticed earlier,
the gold thing she hadn't realized was a huge bed. The bedcovers looked soft
and downy, glistening as white as the marble in the sunshine. The golden finish
gleamed like the real thing—probably was the real thing.
"Wow," Chapel said,
impressed despite the predicament. "There is a bed in the deal."
"Somehow I don't think
it's for sleeping." Kirk nodded at the table set off to the side. It was
set up with wine and finger food. "To keep our strength up?"
"Among other
things," she couldn't stop herself from saying, earning herself a sharp
look.
Their attendants led them up
the slight rise at the side of the structure, then back behind the columns and
onto the marble slab. They bowed once, before retiring to the side, by the table.
Kirk and Chapel were now high enough above the crowds that all could see what
was going on.
It was an impromptu sex
stage, and they were the headlining act. Chapel giggled. Then felt a rush of
heat pour through her entire body. "Oh, shit."
She heard Kirk groan and
turned to look at him.
He was staring at her. Hungrily.
Then he forced himself to look away. "I see that 'Oh, shit," and
raise you a 'F—"
"Captain, Doctor, are
you well?" Spock's voice came out of nowhere.
Kirk appeared more annoyed
than relieved. "How the hell do we look, Spock?"
"Underdressed," was
the instant answer.
Chapel fought down the
mortification at the thought that Spock was looking at her. She was suddenly
glad she was a faithful visitor to the gym. Then a contrary anger filled her. Hell,
let him look. Let him look all he wanted. She stood a little straighter.
Kirk shook his head, as if he
knew exactly what she was thinking. "Where are you, Spock?"
"Right here, sir. I have
modified the beacon to allow me to move freely."
If Chapel looked just right,
she thought she could see a slight wavering outline around where Spock's voice
was coming from.
"Ingenious. How about
modifying us a couple so we can leave?" Kirk looked around at the crowd, who'd
fallen silent, waiting avidly for the big joining.
"I do not think that
would be wise. This unit is extremely heavy. Even with Vulcan strength, it is
difficult to carry—and quite hot." Suddenly his form seemed to solidify
and he ducked down behind the bed, making some rapid adjustments to the unit. "It
also appears to be short circuiting."
"Great," Chapel
said, suddenly irritated with Spock for getting them into this mess in the
first place. If his beacons hadn't failed...
"I apologize, Doctor,
but it is the situation we are faced with."
"Suggestions,
Spock?" Kirk looked out at the crowd, then turned back to her. His eyes
dilated as he stared, and he seemed to quit trying to look away. "That's a
very nice dress, Doctor." He reached out, appeared to be fighting a great
battle, apparently winning as he dropped his hand and turned away, back to
where Spock's voice had come from. "We need to get out of here."
"You cannot run,"
Spock said. "Not with so many watching."
"And they aren't going
anywhere. Not till we join." Chapel looked at the sea of faces.
One young man in the front
row licked his lips as he watched her.
"Then I suggest you make
the joining as boring as possible," Spock's voice sounded mildly annoyed
with her.
She heard the low whirr of a
tricorder. "Which may take a great deal of willpower given the state you
both are in. I take it they gave you some sort of—"
"Aphrodisiac," Kirk
finished for him. "Yes, Spock, they did."
"Unfortunate. But I
trust that you have the willpower to withstand it." If possible, he
sounded even more annoyed. This time with both of them.
"Easy for you to
say," Chapel said under her breath. "You're not the main event."
"Sorlish,
Sorlish, Sorlish, Sorlish." The chant started low, then began to grow
until every person in the clearing seemed to be saying it.
"Shall we, Doctor?"
Kirk held out his hand.
She took it, felt a spasm of
desire jolt through her as they touched. She saw him shudder and knew he was
feeling it too.
"This is going to be
hard," she whispered.
"Oh, we're long past
that." He grinned sheepishly as she looked down. He was right; they were
long past that.
"Make it boring,
huh?" She crawled into the bed and felt his hands run over her backside; the
crowd sighed. "Oh God, do that again."
"That does not qualify
as boring," Spock's voice was very close.
"Are you on the damn bed
with us?" Chapel wished she knew where he was so she could glare at him. Or
slug him. Whichever.
"Very nearly,"
Spock said.
Kirk followed her onto the
bed and pushed her down, to her back. He stared at her, his lips slightly
apart. With a sigh, he stroked her hair.
Chapel forgot how to breathe.
There was a rustle as the
entire audience leaned forward in anticipation.
"Jim, I do not think you
are fully committed to the boring scenario."
"I'm on board,
Spock." Kirk touched Chapel's cheek briefly, then pulled her up to a
sitting position. He exhaled. Loudly. "I trust you know patty-cake,
Doctor."
"I do." She didn't
want to let go of his hand. "And 'See see your
playmate.'"
He grinned. "I don't
know that one; you'll have to teach me. Let's go."
The crowd let out a cry of
wonder as they began to intone, "Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker's
man..." Then the wonder turned to confusion, then to dismay.
After about the twentieth
rendition, the onlookers began to talk among themselves.
The attendants walked over to
the bed, staring at Kirk and Chapel as if trying to determine their sanity.
"We better look like
this feels good, sir, or they may give us more of that wine. And I'm not sure I
could take it." Chapel threw her head back, realized too late that as she
did it she was also throwing her breasts into
prominence.
Kirk missed a beat of
patty-cake. "I think they need sound effects." He moaned. Loudly. With
heartfelt gusto.
She kept up the nursery rhyme
sing-song, softly, under her breath.
"Our gods are
boring." Kirk's attendant turned away, muttered, "We would have been
better."
"Much better," the
woman said.
"Excellent," Spock
sounded very pleased. "Keep it up."
"Easy for him to
say," Kirk said with a grin to Chapel.
She giggled, and his grin grew
bigger. He had the most beautiful mouth. She felt herself drawn into it and
leaned forward, missing the beat for the game and felt Kirk's hand land on her
chest instead of her palm. He slowly let his hand slide down toward her breast.
She moaned.
"Oh, the gods love!"
someone yelled from the front rows.
The crowd let loose a sigh of
anticipation and all conversation ceased. Chapel could feel every eye on her
again.
"That is not
boring," Spock said.
With a frustrated sound, Kirk
pulled his hand away. His eyes locked with hers and she felt as if she was
drowning in them. He had remarkable eyes. Green and gold, such pretty colors.
"You have nice
eyes," she said softly, knowing she sounded like a total sap but didn't
care.
"So
do you," he murmured back, a shy smile playing at the corners of his
mouth.
"Yes, you both have
quite attractive eyes. Now. Please. Captain, Doctor. Pay attention."
"We are." Chapel
sighed dreamily.
"Not to each other. To
the mission, which is to be so uninteresting to these natives that they go away
and you can effect your escape."
"We know the damn
mission, Spock," Chapel tried to look away from Kirk but found she
couldn't. "Maybe it's time for 'See see your
playmate?'"
"Long past," Kirk
said fiercely, letting his eyes rake up and down her body.
She should have been
embarrassed, knew she should not be enjoying his scrutiny, or looking back at
him in the same way.
Spock actually sighed.
The sound brought her back to
reality just enough to begin the new song. "See see
your playmate. Come out and play with me."
"I'd like to." Kirk
grinned, but followed suit, easily keeping time with her in the more
complicated hand motions.
She laughed, which was good
because she couldn't remember the next part. "And bring your something something, climb up my apple tree."
He waggled his eyebrows,
causing her to giggle again.
"Slide down my rain
barrel," she said softly, then looked down significantly.
He laughed again and shifted
forward.
She started to meet him but
heard Spock cough so she settled for whispering the next line, "Into my
cellar door."
They both groaned.
"And we'll be jolly
friends, forever more, more, more, more." The last few hand slaps were
more like caresses.
"May I suggest that the
lyrics to that song are not conducive to being uninteresting?" Spock's
voice was muffled by the whirr of the tricorder. "Please return to
patty-cake."
"Party pooper," she
said under her breath.
"I heard that,
Doctor."
'I heard that, Doctor' she
mouthed to Kirk, who laughed.
"Do not encourage her,
Jim. This is a serious situation."
"Damn right it is,
Spock." Kirk didn't take his eyes off her. 'I want you,' he mouthed.
She mouthed it back. Could
think of lots of other things she'd like to mouth. He seemed to be reading her
mind, leaned in. Their lips met and for a second there was only bliss. Then
Spock pushed them apart.
"I wish you'd just go
away," she said.
"That is the drug
speaking, not you."
"Says you," she
said with a pout.
Her attendant held up a
bottle of wine, calling out from her place by the table, "More wine? It
will help the Sorlish."
"We wouldn't have needed
help," the male attendant muttered.
"Refuse it,
Doctor," Spock said. "I do not believe they can afford to force feed
their gods in front of an audience."
Chapel shook her head.
"Our gods are very
boring, and possibly crazy," her attendant said as she buried her face in
the other attendant's chest.
He patted her back, staring
daggers at Kirk and Chapel.
"My plan is
succeeding," Spock said, satisfaction evident in his voice.
"A little less emphasis
on that 'my,' would be nice, Spock. Doctor Chapel and I are more than doing our
part." Kirk held up his hands. "Ready, Chris?"
She smiled at the nickname. It
had been years since anyone had called her that. "Ready, sir."
"Jim," he said
softly to her.
She tried it out. "Jim."
He nodded and smiled at her
with that warm, wonderful smile that made her want to kiss him all over and—
She forced herself to
concentrate on 'Patty-cake' instead.
##
Hours later, hands aching and
throat burning, Chapel watched as the last of the crowd gave up and went away.
"Soon," Spock said
quietly.
Only their attendants were
left, and they sat dejectedly on the cold marble by the table, staring at their
disappointing gods. Kirk's attendant got up first and held his hand out to the
woman, pulling her to her feet. With one last malice-filled glance at them, he
grabbed the wine and handed the woman a plate of food.
"You're terrible gods. I
spit on you." He did just that.
"And a new religion is
born," Kirk said.
"They could have had the
bed if they'd just asked," Chapel said as they disappeared into the woods.
Two uniforms fell out of
nowhere and landed on the bed. "I took the liberty of procuring these
while you were busy with your hand-clapping."
"Thanks," Kirk said
as he pulled the pants on under the short outfit.
Chapel decided that modesty was
a moot point, and slipped the dress off before putting on the uniform. When she
was done, she looked over at Kirk and saw him glance at her, a slight blush
spreading across his face. She realized she was blushing too.
Funny that it wasn't until
she had clothes on again that the full import of how they'd been dressed hit
her.
"May I suggest we make
haste?"
"Lead on, Macduff,"
Kirk said with a slightly uncomfortable grin. He stared out to where Spock's
voice had come from, a frown beginning.
"Where'd he go?" Chapel asked.
A warm if invisible hand
grasped her wrist, pulling her along. Kirk was dragged along on the other side.
"We're sure this is
Spock, right?" Chapel asked, another giggle working its way loose despite
her best efforts to try to control herself. She reached out and touched a warm,
rigid back. Only Spock could be that much of a tightass
in this situation. "Yep, it's Spock."
There was a loud hiss and
Spock's form shimmered into view again for a moment. Chapel realized she was
touching the beacon not his back. So maybe he wasn't that much of a tightass. She smiled wider as she looked over at Kirk. He
was chuckling too and he turned to her, shot her a "Now, we're in for it"
look. She giggled again.
"I will attribute your
behavior to the effects of the drug," Spock said, almost sourly as the
beacon sputtered and he disappeared again.
"You do that, Mister
Spock," she said.
His hand tightened on her
wrist and she realized her tone had been a long way from professional.
"I mean 'Yes,
sir.'"
She shot another look at Kirk
and saw that he was laughing. She stuck her tongue out at him. He returned the
gesture, then slowly licked across his lips, his expression becoming intense. Desire
shot through her.
"May I remind the two of
you that I am a touch telepath? If you could refrain from doing that until we
have reached the shuttle, I would appreciate it."
With a smile, Kirk turned
away. "So, what's the status of the dilithium extraction?"
"Completed sir. We took
a minimal amount and covered our tracks perfectly."
Hopefully not as perfectly as
he'd set up the beacons earlier. Chapel felt Spock stiffen and worried that
she'd said that out loud. But he'd probably just read the mockery in her
thought. Him being a telepath and touching her and all.
She almost laughed. Years
ago, this situation would have been tailor-made for her fantasies. High on an
aphrodisiac, she could have thrown herself at him with abandon. It just figured
that now, when she could, she didn't want to anymore.
She turned to look at Kirk. He
was staring at her. His eyes still burned. She wondered if hers did too. Got
the answer when he sighed and looked away.
Great—she'd just traded one
impossible crush for another.
She sighed too, resolutely
pushed down what she was feeling. Way down. But from the way Spock's hand
tightened on hers again, not down far enough.
"Sorry," she said,
softly enough that Spock could hear but Kirk probably couldn't.
Spock's grip on her eased. Then
he let go altogether. "Please wait here until I have dropped the
beacons."
Suddenly there was a shower
of sparks and Spock popped into view. He shrugged out of the beacon apparatus
hurriedly. Chapel thought that the ends of his hair look singed.
"So much for your
personal cloaking device," Kirk said.
Spock picked up the still
smoldering unit, turning away from them and walking toward what she presumed
was the shuttle.
Chapel heard the whirr of his
tricorder and a shooting panic seemed to settle in her gut. "Captain, my
tricorder."
He nodded. "Is in that
tent, I know. We'll have to get it back. Soon."
The shuttle appeared as if
out of thin air. Chapel knew it was just a function of Spock having dropped the
camouflage beacons, but it was still impressive.
A moment later, Spock walked
toward them, and she noticed he had a second tricorder slung around his neck.
"I believe you left this
behind?" He drew the tricorder over his head and handed it to her,
disapproval rampant in his tone.
"Nowhere to hide it in
that dress."
His eyebrow rose. "You
could have simply taken it with you. I doubt they would have tried to stop you.
You were, after all, a god in their minds."
"It was a mistake,
Spock. She didn't mean to do it." Kirk sounded annoyed—and protective. "And
she'd already told me she left it."
"Yes, a few moments ago.
I did hear her, Jim."
Chapel frowned at him, unsure
why he seemed so put out with her. She stood up straight. "He's right, Captain.
It was sloppy of me and I apologize." She didn't look at either of them.
"At ease, Doctor." Kirk
pushed past her and Spock. "Let's get the hell out of here."
She didn't look at Spock as
she hurried after Kirk. Ensign Forman nodded to her as she entered the shuttle.
"Where's the rest of the
party?" Kirk asked.
"Took them to the ship
with the dilithium, sir. Just got back myself." He looked at Spock. "I
hope I set those beacons up correctly, sir?"
"You did quite well,
Ensign."
"Very good." Kirk
settled into a passenger seat, letting Spock take the copilot's seat.
"Let's go home.
Chapel took the seat across
from Kirk.
The ride back to the ship was
uncomfortable. An odd silence fell over them, and Chapel found it depressing. She
could feel Kirk's gaze on her and tried not to look at him. Also tried not to
move around too much. The drug was at full strength now and she'd never felt
quite so aroused. Or quite so frustrated. She remembered seeing a cat in heat,
yowling piteously and rubbing herself on the carpet. Chapel suddenly understood
why.
Unfortunately, yowling and rubbing
oneself on the carpet were frowned upon in an already tense shuttle.
Kirk turned away from her,
staring out the viewscreen, but his hand dug into the armrest. She allowed
herself to stare at the back of his head and felt a rush of lust rise up inside
her. Odd that it seemed so specific to him. Was it because he'd had the wine
too? Did something in the drug make it only work if two had partaken?
She analyzed the readings
she'd taken. According to the tricorder, the effects should be intense but
short lasting.
She shut the tricorder off
with a sigh of relief.
"Not terminal?"
Kirk asked with a small smile.
"Not terminal."
He nodded then turned away
again.
When the shuttle finally
docked, Chapel was the first off.
Kirk was right behind her. "Chris?"
His voice was low and somewhat urgent. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
He touched her hand, and she
moaned, then moaned again when he pulled away. He sighed.
"It's just the drug,
sir." She saw his look and said softly, "Jim."
He nodded with a sad smile. "Yes.
Just the drug."
Spock walked off the shuttle
and she jerked away guiltily. "If that will be all, Captain?"
At Kirk's nod, she turned and
fled for the safety of her own quarters.
##
Chapel heard footsteps on the
walk behind her, didn't turn to see who it was. She was on leave, and she
officially didn't care who might be standing behind her.
It has been a hellacious few weeks since they'd been elevated to the ranks
of the gods. Even with new dilithium, the ship had barely limped away to the
nearest repair facility. As the repairs had commenced, medical had shipped out
the few wounded who needed more care than could be obtained on a starship. The
crew had helped out with the repairs where they could. Then yesterday they'd
been given leave on this lovely nearby world where they would get to stay until
the repairs were complete.
Chapel's life seemed stuck in
some odd place that wasn't normal but didn't seem to go anywhere else. She was
having trouble forgetting what it had felt like to touch the captain, to be
that close to him, to see quite that much of him. She wished she could move on.
She knew it had just been the drugs that made him interested in her.
And it was just a crush that
made her interested in him now, when there was no way in hell
she'd ever be in that position again. Why did she do this to herself?
At least she was getting some
rest. McCoy had come back quickly, if not fast enough for his taste and, while
he'd been even crankier than when he was on bed-rest, he was at least back on
the job. She'd been glad to hand back the reins of sickbay.
She wished things with Spock
would settle down. He'd seemed to take any opportunity to ride her. And Jim—the
captain. She made the mental adjustment, trying to forget that she'd ever had
permission to call him anything but 'sir.' The captain had avoided her nearly
as studiously as she'd been avoiding him.
At least the aphrodisiac had
worn off quickly.
"Doctor Chapel?"
Spock said.
She groaned. "I'm on
leave, Spock."
"Yes, I know. I wish to
speak to you."
A shadow fell across her face
and she looked up at him. "You're blocking my sun, sir."
He sat down in the chair next
to her.
"Look if this is about
that damn tricorder, I'll put myself on report if it'll make you ease up on
me."
"It is not about the
tricorder. Although that was careless of you."
"And it's a shame they
don't have the death penalty for that." She took a deep breath. "I know
that it could have been catastrophic. But you found it and saved us all. Again."
He sat back in the chair. "Yes.
But I wonder about the damage we did."
"You mean to their
religion?"
"I was thinking of
patty-cake. I fear that it may be incorporated into their culture. They had
ample time to learn it."
Spock making a joke? She
laughed uncertainly. "At least they only got one verse of the other
song."
He shot her a stern look. "Yes,
that was fortunate." He sat back, studying her.
"What?" she asked,
feeling a bit paranoid.
He didn't answer.
She gestured out toward the
beach. "This doesn't seem like a place you'd gravitate toward."
"It is not." He
looked off to their left and gestured toward a lone figure. "He has found
his beach."
"What?"
"A beach to walk
on," Spock said, his tone musing, gentle. Almost tender.
She reached for the tricorder
she always carried with her and scanned him.
"I am fine,
Christine."
"Now I know you aren't
okay. You'd normally rather die than call me by my first name."
He pushed the tricorder away
gently. "It was only to get your attention."
She gave him a perfect
rendition of his eyebrow. "Well, it worked."
He took the tricorder from
her. "I am sorry that I have been hard on you. I was disturbed by what I
saw on that planet."
"You mean the way the
captain and I behaved?"
"Yes."
"But now you're
not?"
"I am not. I have had
time to think, to consider."
"And because it was the
drug, you're going to let it go?"
"Not precisely." He
pointed out to the figure on the beach. "There is a man with no braid on
his shoulder who would, I believe, welcome your company."
She realized that the figure
coming toward them was Kirk. She shot a startled look at Spock. "Why?"
"I do not believe it was
solely the drugs that spurred the attraction between you." At her look, he
raised an eyebrow. "If it had been, you would have still wanted me. But
you did not. It was something else." He almost smiled. "I have always
regretted that I could not return your affections, Christine." He seemed
about to touch her hair, then he got up and left.
Chapel turned in her chair to
watch him go. "Well, that was odd."
She turned back and watched
Kirk as he walked on the beach. His shoulders seemed slumped, as if he were
terribly tired. He turned and walked to the water, letting the surf run over
his feet as he stood in the wet sand.
She got up and walked out to
him. "Spock said you might want some company?"
Kirk turned to her, a strange
look on his face. "Spock said that?"
"Something about braid
on your shoulder, a beach to walk on?" She saw the astonishment in his
face. "Sir?"
He stared at her as if he
could see into her soul.
"Jim? Are you all right?"
He nodded. But he didn't
smile. His brows were drawn down in a frown.
She fought the urge to reach
out, to stroke his cheek. Her face felt hot and she realized she was blushing. She
was going to kill Spock the next time she saw him. "Right—I shouldn't call
you that. And now I'm disturbing you, sir. I'm sorry." She turned to go.
His hand on her arm stopped
her. "Stay," he whispered.
She looked back at him.
"Chris. Stay." He
let go of her.
She turned around. "Spock
seemed to be implying that you would welcome my company, not just
company in general."
He smiled, a shadow of his
normal grin but still welcome. "Spock's rarely wrong."
"What's going on,
Jim?"
He held out his hand and
waited until she took it to say, "I'm not sure." Then he grinned. "But
I think I like it."
He led her down the beach,
taking them through the surf. She loved the feel of his hand on hers, the way
his shoulder bumped up against hers every so often, the way he looked over at
her, as if checking to see if she was real, and still there.
"Spock was postulating
on the damage we'd done to the culture with our patty-cake routine."
He laughed. "Somehow I
don't think it will lead to the rise of a gangster culture." He grew more
serious. "Or a Nazi one."
"Probably not. Just a
bunch of really dexterous people. Or a planet full of bakers." She laughed
at his grin.
His hand tightened on hers. "I'm
sorry I avoided you."
"Hey, you weren't the
only one hiding."
"I said avoiding not
hiding." He shot her a stern look.
"Right." She bumped
up against him and saw him smile.
"So why were you
avoiding me?" he asked.
She looked down. "I
don't know. Embarrassed, I guess."
"No reason to be. It was
the drugs, you said so yourself."
"Right. The drugs."
"Which is why we're here
now." He glanced at her, smiled gently. "And why I keep thinking of
you in that damn dress."
"You were pretty
memorable in that kilt too."
He let go of her hand but put
his arm around her and pulled her close. She wrapped her arm around his waist.
They walked silently for a
while. Chapel could feel her heart pounding, was intensely aware of where his
hand rested on her skin.
"We're in trouble,
aren't we?" She looked over at him.
"Big trouble." He
shook his head. "Although my first officer apparently doesn't see this as
a problem."
"I'm not sure I quite
understand what he was doing."
Kirk tapped her gently on the
nose, then touched her cheek. "He knows what I need." He grinned. "Sometimes
better than I do." He laughed softly. "Maybe it's a good thing that I
demoted you, after all. McCoy and Spock write your evaluations, not me."
She began to smile. "Lucky
that."
He wrapped his other arm
around her, pulling her close. "The beach is deserted, Chris. What should
we do?"
She didn't stop to think,
didn't want to hear her inner censor tell her not to be stupid. She kissed him.
And he kissed her back. Passionately.
Possessively. With a great deal of gusto.
So much gusto that she found
it difficult to stand when they finished. "Wow."
"That was without
drugs," he said, an amused—but also proud—note in his voice. He pushed her
hair off her face. "Sweet."
His tenderness touched her,
opened something up inside her and helped her say, "I've been
lonely." Once the words were out, they sounded stupid. She wished she
could take them back.
But then he said, "Me
too," and everything was all right again.
He kissed her, this time
gently. Then he took her hand again and continued walking down the beach.
She felt off balance. "What's
happening?"
He shrugged and tightened his
grip on her hand.
"You don't know or you
don't care?"
He grinned at her. "Oh,
I care. I care a lot." He pulled her close, kissed her quick. "I
think it's nice. If you aren't sure, then go back to whatever you were doing
before our Vulcan friend decided to meddle."
She noticed he didn't let go
of her hand. "Well, if he went to all the trouble of meddling, I really
should stick around for a while."
"I think we owe it to
him." He pointed to where a tent was set up on the beach. "I was
thinking of getting one of those and sleeping out tonight. Under the
stars." He shot her a look and raised an eyebrow in query.
She laughed. "We've been
over this."
"Oh, right, nice sheets
and indoor plumbing." He nodded and smiled but his brightness seemed to
dim.
She reached over and stroked
his cheek, letting her hand run through his hair. "Do you have bug
spray?"
"I'll get some." He
closed his eyes as she rubbed the back of this neck gently, letting her fingers
comb through his hair. "And the stars are phenomenal here."
"But how will we see
them in the tent?"
"We can see other things
in the tent," he said softly, his voice intense.
"Ah." She laughed,
then she kissed him again, trying to memorize what it felt like to be close to
him. She wasn't sure how long whatever they were doing would last. But she
didn't want to lose a moment of it.
He pulled away first, smiled
at her happily. "A beach to walk on," he whispered.
"It's right here,"
she said.
"And so are you." He
put his arm around her again. "So what other
nasty songs do you know?"
She laughed. "Under
normal circumstances, 'See see your playmate' isn't
nasty."
"Normal circumstances? What
are those?"
She smiled. "I have no
idea."
"Me neither." He
stared at her, his look so intense she thought he'd
melt her.
"Spock said it wasn't
the drugs." At his look, she said, "Because he knew that I didn't
want him."
"Nothing wrong with his self-esteem,"
he said with a laugh. Then his expression became more serious. "I knew it
wasn't the drugs. I kept seeing you in that bathtub. And in that dress. I kept
seeing your eyes, kept remembering how I couldn't look away." He seemed
lost in thought for a moment, a happy look on his face. "You do have
pretty eyes."
She was drowning in his. "So do you."
She pulled him into the surf,
sat down and pulled him down to sit with her.
A wave slid over and around
them, pushing her against him.
"A salt-water
bath?" He smiled. "You'll get sand in your suit."
She shrugged. "I'll get
used to it." She glanced at him. "If I'm going to sleep on the
beach."
She leaned against him and he
pulled her closer, kissing her hard, his hands roaming freely.
"Best shore leave
ever," he muttered as he pushed her down.
Another wave came, this time
harder, splashing them as they kissed. She began to laugh and he wiped her face
off then kissed her again. Then he stood and pulled her up. As he turned them
back to the beach, she thought she saw a familiar figure watching them from
across the sand.
"Look."
Kirk's smile was infinitely
gentle. His hand tightened on her waist. "My best friend. I'm going to
have to do something nice for him."
She smiled, felt tears
threaten and blinked hard.
Kirk raised a hand.
Across the sand. Spock raised
a hand back in greeting. Or farewell. Or maybe just luck to them. Chapel didn't
know, was still reeling a bit from what was happening.
"You loved him
once," Kirk said.
"He never loved
me," she said, with more assurance than she felt. After what he'd just
done for them, she wasn't sure of anything anymore. "But he loves
you."
Kirk nodded and watched Spock
walk away. Then he looked over at her. "I'm starved. Are you starved?"
She laughed. "I
am."
"Come on, I know a great
little place, right on the beach. Best seafood on this planet. And no dress
code."
She looked down at their
sand-covered legs. "Good thing."
He put a hand on either side
of her face and stared at her. "I want to know you. Really know you."
"Same here." She
held out her hand then smiled when he took it and swung her arm back and forth
as they walked.
His happiness was contagious.
It filled her, made her feel flushed, as if with fever. If his happiness was a
disease, it was one she hoped never, ever to recover from.
FIN