In the Ruins of Paradise

an epilogue for the episode “This Side of Paradise”

by Setcheti

 

 

Disclaimer:  Star Trek was created by Gene Roddenberry and is now owned – and abused – by Paramount.  This story was written for love of Star Trek only and not for monetary gain of any kind.

Author’s Note:  This episode ended with Spock saying of the time he spent under the control of the spores, “For the first time in my life, I was happy.”  It was Kirk who had ripped that happiness away from him, and this tag is part of what I thought might have resulted.

 

The first officer of the starship Enterprise walked into Sickbay with a tread that sounded ever so faintly annoyed and an attitude that projected itself as ever so faintly confrontational.  “Doctor McCoy,” he stiffly addressed the room’s sole other occupant.  “You sent for me?”

 

The doctor didn’t visibly react to the annoyance or the attitude.  “I did.  I needed to talk to you about something.”  McCoy walked back around to the other side of his desk, putting it between them.  “It has come to my attention that we have a slight…personnel problem on the bridge, Mr. Spock,” he said evenly.  “Namely, the first officer has been considerably cool towards the captain for nearly a week now and it is having a deleterious effect on morale as well as on both of their performances.”  He raised an eyebrow and dropped the professional voice for one more familiar.  “Still holding it against him for yanking you out of paradise, aren’t you?”

 

Spock stiffened even more, looking vaguely offended.  “That supposition is illogical, Doctor.  Vulcans do not hold grudges.  The captain was merely…”

 

“Doing his duty,” McCoy finished for him.  He sounded tired.  “That he was, Mr. Spock – and now he’s kicking himself for it, because of you and the grudge you’re not holding.  I want you to hear something.”  He pushed a button on his terminal.  “Voice identification access, Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer.  Captain’s log 141.09.”

 

The computer hummed, then beeped its agreement and Kirk’s voice suddenly sounded from the speaker on the desk.  “Captain’s log, Stardate 141. 9.  I am the sole remaining crew member aboard the ship; the rest have all beamed down to the colony below.  Mutiny. …. I never realized just how big this ship really is…or how silent. …. I am trapped here, in exile.”

 

“Computer pause,” McCoy ordered softly.  He didn’t look up.  “You heard it, right?”

 

“I heard.”  The attitude was gone.  Spock’s voice was a bare, gruff whisper.  “He sounded…broken.”

 

“I’m pretty sure he was.”  The doctor shook his head.  “I think part of him still is, even though he’s burying it as deep as he can.  He did what he had to do, what Starfleet would have ordered him to do if we hadn’t cut him off from them too.  Jim saw himself as rescuing us from slavery; he didn’t, he couldn’t consider the effect being freed from the control of the spores would have on you personally.”  He sighed.  “He left the supplemental log running when he beamed you up from the surface, so I know what he did to bring you out of it.  He noted beforehand that he knew making you angry enough to lose control could kill him, but he also knew he had no other choice.”

 

Spock nodded slowly.  “He would have made such a record to absolve me of responsibility should that have occurred.  He has done such things in the past”

 

It was McCoy’s turn to nod, and this time he did look up.  His blue eyes were piercing.  “You have to forgive him, Spock.  Even if you never say the words….he’ll know.  I may hassle you sometimes about having no emotions, but I know you do have them where Jim is concerned.  And you’re hurting him, and he was hurting enough already without that.”

 

“I can see that now, yes.”  Spock’s voice was even again, and someone who didn’t know him well would have seen nothing but impassive agreement in his angular face; McCoy wasn’t one of those someones, he saw the anguish in the depths of those dark eyes and was infinitely relieved by it.  “I thank you for bringing this to my attention, Doctor.  I will consider the best way to act on your suggestion.”

 

“I knew you would, Spock.”  McCoy smiled slightly.  “You’re a very reasonable man, when you want to be.”

 

“I shall take that as a compliment.”  The Vulcan turned and walked back the way he’d come in, but he paused at the door and glanced back over his shoulder as it hissed open in front of him.  “I have on occasion accused you of dabbling in psychology when your medical strengths lie elsewhere,” he said.  “For the record, Doctor…I retract those statements.”

 

And then he was gone.  McCoy dropped into his desk chair with a sigh, and then he snorted softly.  “It may not be paradise, but that’s close enough for me.”