TOS Hypertext round robin

Ship's night, Starship Enterprise.

~end of Karmen Ghia part~

Kirk was running, and something was chasing him,
something he didn't want to have catch up with him; in
front of him something he desperately needed to find,
needed to ... just needed, more than breathing.  

Something diffuse, intangible. 

Someone. 

His heartbeat a heavy thump in his ears, and the noise
grew louder with each agonizing step as his feet
thudded against the floor of his ship. The sound
echoed, bounced off the walls; a hollow sound that
made his anxiety grow. 

And then, he saw the shadowy figure of something
ahead. Black robes billowing. Something ... someone. 

Spock.

"Wait up!" Kirk shouted. "Wait. Don't go ..." 

*Don't leave me*

That's when he woke up, sweating, aching and alone. 

Kirk forced himself out of bed, knowing that sleep
wouldn't come for many hours now. He'd only fallen
asleep minutes ago, and he knew he'd just have to face
another sleepless night. 

"He's gone," Kirk told himself once more, wincing at
the sound of his own voice, the flatness of it, the
.... feeling of being lost growing for each day. It
was as though the truth of Spock not being by his side
just wouldn't sink in, no matter how many days, weeks
or even months passed by since they had both left the
Enterprise.

Kirk roamed the rooms of his house. It was situated on
the ocean, barely ten minutes by hovercar from Los
Angeles city. The bungalow was a beautiful place, one
that he'd thought would help him feel better, as
though he'd finally found a house that he could call
home, but he was itching to get away from it. 

*Perhaps you should go to Vulcan to find Spock, and
let him know that you've made a mistake.*

But fear surged inside him. Of what he couldn't quite
tell. 

He could still remember the blank look on Spock's face
that very last day. Kirk winced. He hadn't meant to
sound so harsh, so ... unforgiving when he denied the
feelings he'd had for his first officer for ... years.


But the desolation and shuttered expression in Spock's
black eyes told him that no matter what he had truly
meant, rejection, plain and simple, was what Spock had
seen on his face. And inside, Kirk knew very well that
it wasn't how he truly felt. He loved Spock but
couldn't convince himself to admit it out loud. 

Something held him back. It was fear, fear of his own
feelings and the strong emotions he saw in the face of
a man that he'd worked beside for five whole years.
Emotions that had no business being there. 

Kirk swallowed. He had never expected Spock to act on
the tension that existed between them, never expected
Spock to ever bring it up. And when he did ... Kirk
was ashamed of his own reaction. He'd been so afraid
that rather than acknowledging the fear, he'd lashed
out and driven Spock away, the only person he had ever
truly ... loved. 

So, now what was he supposed to do? 

~end of Carola part~

The walls of the bungalow were suddenly closing in on
him, he had to get out. He made his way to the beach,
where the gently crashing waves and star-spangled sky
would help to ease his anxiety. 

Following the well-worn path to the isolated cove he
had discovered his first night in the bungalow, he
realized that he had spent a portion of every night
here, for one reason or another. It had become his
sanctuary ... his refuge ... his escape. He could not
help but think that this refuge would not be necessary
if he had made different choices ... if he had not
allowed his fears to consume him. 

On the Enterprise, fear had never ruled his actions
... never crippled him when it came to life and death
decisions. But when it came to personal matters such
as love and commitment, he always seemed to let fear
have the upper hand. In his youth, there had been
Ruth, then Carol, then Gary ... countless others over
the years. He had always had a reason for pulling away
when things got too serious. 

He didn't even want to think about all the missed
opportunities ... yet when everything he ever wanted
had been offered to him, he pushed it away once again.

How could he have treated Spock that way, when every
fiber of his being ached to be with him? Their last
moment together continuously replayed itself in his
mind, forcing him to make a decision. 

Returning quickly to the bungalow, he punched in the
code to Spock's home on Vulcan. As he waited for the
connection to be made, he composed his thoughts, and
hoped that Spock would allow him to say everything he
needed to say.

But when the connection was finally made, it was
Sarek, not Spock who appeared onscreen. A brief
conversation revealed that Spock had gone to study at
Gol, and fear once again consumed him ... for it might
be too late to tell Spock his true feelings. 

~end of T'Lin part~

Studies at Gol...

Jim found himself sitting and thinking of this as if
his mind was not capable of anything else.

"Gol? It's the Vulcan version of Mt. Athos." Bones had
chuckled wryly once, on one of their countless
late-night-weekend-on-ship drinking discussions. McCoy
could keep a tight reign on his sentimentality....so
long as he didn't go below a certain, invisible line
in the Saurian brandy bottle. And the two of them had
often wound up talking about anything and everything.

Well, almost everything. You couldn't talk to Bones
about history without fighting. Bones was completely
stacked when it came to contempt for the kind of men
Jim held in awe. For every good thing Jim had to say
about Abe Lincoln, Bones would shoot back something
equally bad, such as his opiate addiction, his
disbelief in God, and what about those Indians he hung
early in his presidency?

So, Jim generally steered clear of anything resembling
a volitile topic--sort of keeping a mental map of
potential conversation starters with massive amounts
of the oceans charted with HERE BEE DRAGONS.

"What about Athos?" Jim had wondered.

"Ancient Greek monastary, its still running itself."
McCoy explained, leaning back in his chair. "Men only.
They don't even allow female goats or rabbits on the
grounds." He lifted his eyebrows silently. "Other than
that, nice people."

Jim turned that over in his head. "They're like Gol?"

"Well, they don't purge all emotions. But that's the
human mindset.  Vulcans, at least Vulcans today,
believe in the purging of all emotions to achieve that
pure bliss they call logic." Again, the wry shrug of
eyebrows.  "No doubt back in Pre-Reform times, they
were purging other things..."

Jim let the brandy burn his throat. "Since when did
YOU get to be such an expert on Vulcana?"

"Since never." McCoy shot back. "But I know
aesthetics. I've got enough of 'em in the family."
Abruptly, his mouth snapped shut and he made a show of
pouring more drinks.

Of course, the conversation had halted there. Jim
remembered best his vague feeling of jealousy that
McCoy had known something of Spock's people that he
hadn't. After all, hadn't he made a study of his First
Officer, and tried to get to know him as much as
possible?

It was also back in a time before Jim had taken too
many things in account.  McCoy's passing comment about
family aesthetics was haunting now. Spock was pursuing
the bliss of logic...Bones was pursuing Nirvana in the
form of research. To all accounts he was growing
shaggy and semi-isolated and building an altar in
Fabrini medicine.

Spock...in Gol.

Gol.

He thought of the moments when warmth had shone
through that severe, lean face. A smile without
reservations. Bitter tears over his mother's turmoil
as a human on Vulcan. The coldness of his father. Even
his nervous worry of touching the infant Teer had been
something to treasure, for all those moments had
opened the lid in the chest and bared the soul inside.

Gol.

Jim leaned his head in the palms of his hands, and
closed his eyes, wondering if he would feel better if
he gave in to the pain.

~end of Marcy part~


Was it possible he had weakened Spock so much as to drive him to this?
Drive him to escape himself. That powerful mind wished for nothing but
to be torn asunder from his own nature? Was that possible?

Kirk clenched his hands beneath his forehead. He had been trying to
protect Spock from Kirk's own human inadequacy.  He could handle the
responsibility of four hundred Starfleet lives but he couldn't handle
the responsibility of one half-breed Vulcan's love. It was too much,
it was too rare a thing, and he was too ill-equiped.

But he had blown it anyway, he realized. He had mishandled the
situation as badly as possible and wounded Spock with the very weapon
Spock had just handed him. His eyes burned and he pressed his knuckles
hard against them until he regained his composure.

He stood suddenly and walked to the closet. He dug his duffel out of
the back of the shelf then went to his dresser and threw in his
essentials.  He felt more energized than he had in a very long
time. Missions he could deal with--this was just one he happened to
have assigned himself.

He wavered only when he requested leave in a message to command. So
many responsibilities here. He pursed his lips and sent the message
off. He'd worded the request so as to leave no doubt that denying it
meant their golden boy would be extremely uncooperative and unhappy.


He was a stoic himself on the shuttle trip between Earth and Vulcan.
The only seat he could get at boarding time was 3rd class. He stood,
out of uniform, staring out the portals at the starscape, for most of
the trip. His body language warned the other passengers away, for
which is was grateful. He couldn't afford to lose his focus, even for
a moment, or he might remember how his fear had brought it to this in
the first place.

At the Vulcan Spaceport, the heat reminded him that he had better find
out just what he was getting into trying to reach Spock. They wouldn't
let him into Gol directly. He would have to cheat. He found a travel
store catering to humans and bought a full array of survival gear
which he had put into another duffel just in time for the intra-planet
flight to Jaleyi where he could rent an air car with enough range to make
it to the desert of Gol. 

Kirk moved constantly, never giving himself a chance to think. He
liked this mode, he realized, as he registered for the aircar. Even
the extreme summer heat wasn't slowing him down. He felt invincible as
he crossed the ramp to where the rental aircars stood waiting and
threw in his two duffel bags.

He pulled up the maps and flew to the base of the mountain range and
landed on a high plateau, maxing out the car's altitude.  He stared
out at the barren red vista for a long while as the sun grew lower in
the sky and T'Kuht rose opposite it. Too close that planet looked.
Kirk wondered that the mountains weren't just drawn up by its gravity
to meet it in the sky.

He shook himself and ate a snack and drank lots of water. Time for a
little cheating. He pulled out a tricorder and betting that the
master's of Gol were not keen on technology, scanned for a signal in
the desert below that looked less than full Vulcan.