The BLTS Archive - The Craft
by Angie Tallahassee
by angie tallahassee (angie_galik@yahoo.com)

---

I can hardly believe it -- I'm writing a story that's not about McCoy!
This, however, is quite risque enough. In fact, our younger and more
sensitive readers should pass this right by. It's got some very
explicit shuttlecraft material in it, and it will get more explicit
yet as the time passes. Be warned! Not for the faint of heart!

Once again I warn you: EXPLICIT SHUTTLECRAFT SCENES!!!! NOT FOR THE
EASILY NAUSEATED!!!

Disclaimer: Paramount would never show THIS side of Trek on TV or in
the books. I am boldly displaying something that should be out in the
open, out of the closet, and all those other outs. I humbly borrow the
characters of Spock, Sulu, and the shuttle Galileo. They don't belong
to me. At all.

Feedback would be dearly appreciated!

---

Sulu cast a hasty glance over his shoulder at Spock. The Vulcan had
been behaving oddly ever since the captain had delivered the news:
there was to be a short trip, via shuttlecraft, to the planet's
surface. Spock would be the mission's leader, and Sulu would fly the
shuttle. Now, bare minutes before the craft left its snug bay, Sulu
noticed that his superior officer seemed extremely edgy.

The pilot, for that matter, wasn't feeling very good himself. If only
Kirk knew -- time after time, being exposed to the same craft. Sulu
longed to make a break for it, simply flee back to his quarters -- he
could hardly bear the thought of once more facing the Galileo. After
what had passed between the two ... he forced himself to put those
frantic thoughts out of his mind. It was all over now; the Galileo was
no longer his to control. He would have given anything to reclaim the
days past, now relegated to lonely memory, but it obviously was not
meant to be. Not according to *her,* at any rate.

As the shuttlebay doors hissed open and the entrance-bell dinged
plaintively, Sulu stepped bravely into the vast open space, struggling
to keep his face a mask of composure. It wouldn't do to let his guard
down, not in front of Spock; no, it wouldn't do at all. He took a deep
breath, and forced himself to look without open lust on her smooth,
white body, reposed on the floor like a Persian cat on a velvet
cushion, eager for her master's loving touch. That was a touch which
Sulu was no longer in a position to bestow.

---

Spock strode purposefully along behind the young pilot. It took all
his Vulcan control to prevent his heartbeat from racing off at an
insane pace. The anticipation was too urgent -- ah, there she was,
bathed in the soft glow of shuttlebay lighting. He marveled at her
austere beauty, her gentle shyness, the logical aerodynamics of her
splendid construction. The sight of the Galileo quickened his pulse
imperceptibly.

The first officer laughed silently, without letting his facial
expression reveal his inner mirth. A part of him still insisted that
the attraction was purely business; simply the way of a logical mind
to appreciate the combination of great aesthetic beauty and extreme
practicality. Another part -- the Human part -- simply laughed,
knowing that Spock had fallen hard for the lovely Galileo. It was his
Human blood that Spock heeded now.

As the shuttle's door lifted slowly, Spock allowed himself a moment of
embarrassment. To think that he, a Vulcan, could be so enraptured by a
machine -- to think that he had spent days sneaking, plotting,
conniving, just to grasp at a chance to be with the craft. And Jim ...
the poor captain didn't even suspect. Spock imagined he would have to
confess his feeling soon, or risk rumors the like of which Starfleet
had never dreamed before.

Then his merry Human side broke in and chided him softly. It was
perfectly obvious, that half said; perfectly logical for a Vulcan to
fantasize about a shuttle. After all, shuttlecraft were machines; and
machines were incredibly logical things.

Suddenly he wanted to cry out, but he settled for a brief inner
protest. "No!" he thought. "She is more than a simple machine. She has
a soul." At that moment he knew exactly what Jim had meant, all those
times he spoke of the Enterprise as of a lover. The ships were
fabulous creatures, worthy of utmost adoration.

---

Sulu hunched down in his chair, comforted by the feel of replicated
leather against his skin. He may not have asked for this assignment,
but, dammit, he was going to milk it for every last drop of enjoyment
he could get. The Galileo blinked her readouts steadily, seemingly
stalwart in the face of his pain. Of course, it had been her call; she
had been the one to reject *him,* so he could hardly expect sobbing or
pleas for forgiveness. Still, a man could wish ...

With a last probing look at the display, Sulu wrenched his thoughts
away from his own misery. He wondered abstractly how Spock was getting
on, there in the back; the passenger area was unusually quiet for a
trip with the Vulcan. None of the tricorder's familiar bleeps and
squeals emanated from that region. Had it been any other officer, Sulu
might have thought him to be napping; but no, not Spock. Vulcans
didn't "nap." Sulu didn't need to be a physician to know that much.

He must be worried, Sulu concluded. Must be about this mission ... he
strained his mind, but couldn't seem to remember any specifics about
the job to be done. They were going to Feratyunin; he could tell that
much, at least, without referencing the shuttle's readouts. Feratunyin
was something of a hellhole, he'd heard, all wracked by wild winds and
a tendency toward tornadoes -- he'd picked that tidbit up years ago,
back at the Academy when the experienced navigators had been inclined
to share their memories of adventure while having drinks with the
brightest young Starfleet prospects. Sulu had listened well, always
alert, and had learned enough to land a position on the best ship in
the Fleet -- always alert, that was, until she had cast her spell upon
him.

There it was again, the thought that would never leave him, no matter
how he tried to ignore it. Being in her presence made it impossible
for him to deny the longing he felt, or the deep sorrow that loss had
planted in his soul. He sighed; it was a heartwrenching sound, torn
from the depths of his being. She was oblivious, but *he* was
painfully aware -- every sound she made was like a song, every gentle
sway of her sleek body was a caress. He gave himself over to the
memories, slipping into that sweet realm where the cold facts no
longer mattered. She may have denied him his heart, but he would
always have his imagination, his fantasies, and his memories.

---

She sang to him, as they slipped through the space like a gleaming
figure skater on an infinite velvet-black lake. She sang her sweet
lullaby, and Spock listened, enthralled.

He had never before experienced such powerful emotion. He had never
dreamed that any being could have such a profound effect on his mind
-- not to mention his body. He couldn't think of her without breaking
out into a shivering sweat; her nearness now made him giddy with
un-Vulcan delight. All but forgotten, a tricorder hung limply from his
hand as his mind romped with hers in spheres unknown to mere Humans.
He was deeply thankful for his two natures: his Human half allowed him
to love, and his Vulcan mental abilities provided a way to know his
lover in a very intimate sense.

//I have longed for this time, my one.// Spock reached out mentally to
his beloved.

//I know you have, dear Spock.// Her thoughts were melodious and
harmonically perfect.

//Words escape me, sweet Galileo. Simply being here, with you, in you,
fills me with the highest pleasure.//

She hushed him softly. //You needn't form words, dear one. Expressing
your love in such a manner goes against all that is sacred in your
heritage; I know this. I know that it hurts you to be so open.
Therefore simply be, and we shall be together.>

//This is best.// The hint of a tear prickled in Spock's eye. He gave
himself over to her beautifully-controlled power.

---

The abrasive crunch of Sulu's voice tore Spock away from the thoughts
of his love, the Galileo. A wave of fury ripped through the Vulcan,
but he was able to tamp it down quickly. He suppressed his
instinctive, murderous thoughts, and gave a small offer of thanks to
any and all Higher Powers that they had allowed him to spare the
pilot's life.

"Mr. Spock," Sulu called again from the small ship's console. "Are you
all right back there?"

"I am ... fine," Spock said, with some effort. "Do you have a report?"

"We'll be landing in just about five minutes, sir," the pilot said.
"You might want to tuck yourself in tight, now."

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu; I will do that." He carefully set his blinking
tricorder on the floor, carefully controlling his breathing. //My one,
I need you,// he called out internally.

To his extreme relief, she responded after only the briefest of
pauses. //Spock, you must go and serve your captain now. You must
perform your mission on this world; then we shall be together again.//
He could feel the warmth of her smile, and almost ... *almost* ...
conceive of it in his mind's eye.

He felt immeasurably calmer. //You are right, my one. I must do what I
came here to do.//

He thought he could feel her approval, like the warm rays of the
Vulcan sun. //The captain is lucky to have officers like you, Spock; I
know that you would not let him down.// With that, her pure voice
faded from his mind.

Spock felt like a husband, fresh from his wife's bed. He thought that
with her approval, he could last forever -- her smile would give him
the energy to continue until he might touch her mind again.

The idea of separation jolted him back into reality. Jim -- she had
mentioned the captain. How did he fit into -- oh, of course.
Feratyunin, the barren wasteland for which the craft was bound. They
would land in ... Damn, he thought. Why must you Humans always give
time in approximates? He estimated two minutes to have passed. Only a
short time remained to prepare himself to meet with the Feratya.

He strapped his restraining belt around his waist and buckled it
tightly just as the turbulence began. Sulu's deep voice wafted back to
him once again, saying, "Hang on tight, sir; shouldn't be long now!"

*Obvious,* he thought grimly, wishing that the Human would be silent
and let him think. He reached down beside him and grabbed a padded
black bag. The satchel, he knew, contained a set of regal jewels of a
quality rarely seen in this end of the galaxy. It was to be returned
to the Feratya after residing in Klingon hands for over two hundred
years -- a gesture of goodwill, to show that membership in the
Federation was an eminently desirable thing. Captain Kirk had
recaptured the jewels himself, in a ridiculous plot that had seemed
destined for failure from the very beginning. McCoy had provided a
mind-altering drug, similar to recreational chemicals that had had
their day on almost every planet in the quadrant; the Kirk had, in
effect, taken advantage of the deficient Klingons and literally won
the jewels away from them in a highly unsportsmanlike game of poker.
Spock often found himself in awe of his captain's ability to pull off
outrageous stunts and come out a hero; this was definitely one of
those times.

For the moment, though, it was his lot to simply deliver the jewels to
the Feratyan regent, mumble a few ceremonial words of welcome, and
scoot back to the Enterprise before the Klingons woke up from their
drug-induced haze.

The shuttle landed roughly, and Spock almost cried out in anger. How
could any man have so little regard for a beautiful creature like the
Galileo? Spock resolved to put the pilot on report for reckless
endangerment as soon as they returned to the ship.

---

Feratyunin's vicious winds whipped Sulu's hair into a tangled mess as
he stood outside the shuttle's open door, watching Spock disembark. He
noticed that the Vulcan did not seem the least bit put off by the
winds; it figured, he thought. Perfectly calm, while I'm a mass of
green nerves ...

Spock watched the door slowly perform its automated closing action,
then turned to Sulu, a strange look of hesitation on his face.
"Perhaps, Mr. Sulu, you could perform this delivery. I -- am not
feeling well."

Fear shot through Sulu. He had been counting on this time alone with
the Galileo ... there was no way he would sacrifice these few moments
with his love, even if she wouldn't respond. "I don't think it would
be proper, sir," he shouted over the whistling of the raging
atmosphere.

"It is a low-key diplomacy mission -- good training for a future
captain," Spock continued, not heeding Sulu's discomfort. He had to
raise his voice slightly in order to be heard. "I would ... take care
of the shuttle ... while you are away."

The realization hit Sulu like a starship set to ramming speed. "You
want her," he whispered. The wind sucked his words away and hurled
them into the evening sky. He screamed, then, to overcome the weather
-- "You want her for yourself!" Sulu stared in anguish at the
admission stenciled on Spock's face. It was true, obviously; the
reason for her rejection had suddenly become appallingly clear. He
drew back his arm and slugged Spock's jaw with all his might.

Immediately he knew he'd made a grave error. The Vulcan's face became
a stone wall; he didn't even flinch at the blow. A fire lit
spontaneously in the depths of Spock's eyes; Sulu quivered in fear
under the Vulcan's glare.

"I will kill you," Spock growled. Sulu never had time to escape. He
felt the Vulcan's hot grip on his neck, saw edges of black creeping in
to obscure his vision; he knew he was about to die, and attempted to
whisper a prayer before his passing.

Suddenly the grip was gone. Sulu collapsed on the gray, stony ground,
gasping to pull in enough breath. His vision fuzzed out and returned.
Slowly, painfully, he stood, leaning on the Galileo for support -- and
he saw that Spock was gone. He murmured a prayer of thanks to whatever
power had spared his life, and stumbled into the sweet refuge of the
shuttlecraft.

As he leaned gratefully back into the pilot's chair, he felt her touch
in his mind. He started upright, a jolt of electricity passing through
him as he thrilled to the familiar mind.

//I told him to release you, Hikaru.// Her voice was sad.

His shoulders sagged. //And you are his now, Galileo?//

//I am,// she replied, obviously trying to keep the joy from her
voice. He appreciated the effort, but it was little comfort when he
knew she was lost to him forever.

//Hikaru, you and I are far too different. Spock's mind is like mine.
We belong together. You must understand.//

He sighed. He'd been preparing himself for this moment for weeks; now
that it had come, he found he could accept it and move on. //I
understand. I ... will always care for you, though.//

//I know,// she said gently. //And I for you.// With that, she
withdrew from his mind. Sulu fell asleep in the chair, dizzy with
emotion and the after-effects of partial suffocation.

---

Back in the Galileo after the delivery of the Feratyan regal jewels,
Spock was on the edge of his seat. Had he been Human, he surely would
have chewed on his nails.

The Vulcan was a mass of confused emotions -- not a familiar sensation
for him. The Galileo was keeping her distance now; apparently she
wanted to think about what he had done. The idea that he had almost
killed Sulu would not have fazed him -- except that now he had to bear
the weight of her disapproval. He reached out to her with his mind and
encountered ... silence. He groaned inwardly. How long would she hold
out? Until he was truly sorry, presumably. He lowered his head into
his hands and tried to make himself feel remorse, but it was
incredibly hard for him, as a Vulcan, to conjure emotions at will.

His concentration was broken once again by Sulu's voice. Before he
could suppress it, a tiny stray thought bubbled up -- one that wished
he'd killed the man when he could, and now he wouldn't be pestering
incessantly. Well, once. But that was irrelevant. The thought floated
away, and in a less-than-polite voice he asked the pilot what he
wanted.

"Would you come up here for a minute, sir?" Nervousness was apparent
in the young officer's voice. Spock almost felt sorry for him; he
imagined the least he could do was speak with the man. With
characteristic Vulcan grace, he made his way to the very front on the
shuttlecraft, feeling her thrumming engines beneath and around him
every time his foot touched the floor. He slid, cat-like, into the
co-pilot's seat and swiveled to face Sulu.

"I won't beat around the bush, sir," the pilot said, without taking
his eyes away from the console's readouts. Spock wondered if she was
talking to *him,* and forced himself to remain calm and ... logical.

"Please, do not dissemble," he encouraged roughly.

Sulu looked pained. "She ... loves you. She told me so after you left
-- nothing happened," he added hastily. He lifted his head and stared
straight into Spock's eyes. "She and I -- were one, once," he said, in
a tight voice. "It's hard for me to let go -- but I will. She loves
you, you love her -- I know when I'm not wanted. I won't try to take
her away from you. I -- I'm sorry I interfered."

Spock was genuinely touched by the other man's honesty in a situation
that must have been heartbreaking. He nodded slowly. "Your actions
were ... understandable," he said. "All is forgiven. And I ... regret
my over-hasty attack."

The smile Sulu flashed at Spock was like a sudden gleam of starlight.
Spock, in turn, offered somewhat less of a scowl.

Suddenly the craft bucked wildly, and an insignificant instrument
exploded into sparks. "You'd better get back, sir," Sulu said
urgently. "The co-pilot's seat's not place for passengers."

Spock decided not to remind Sulu that he was a well-qualified shuttle
pilot. After all, that was what had gotten him into this relationship
in the first place -- as he climbed out of the chair, he felt her
touch in his mind, reassuring. He smiled fully now, knowing that all
would be well. And then he blacked out, as a chunk of flying metal
whapped into his head and he pitched to the ground.

---

Sulu awoke in sickbay to see Dr. McCoy hovering over him, a concerned
expression suddenly being replaced by a beaming smile. "I knew you'd
make it," he proclaimed. "You got a few nasty burns, but now you're in
pearly physical condition." He beamed again -- he could hardly help
himself, Sulu thought. Being a doctor must be an awfully stressful job
...

He decided to test out his vocal chords, since everything else had
apparently pulled through just fine. "Wha -- what the hell happened?
Er, sir?"

McCoy chuckled. "No need for that nervous look, son; I've heard 'em
all, plus a few you're too young to know." His voice took on a more
serious note. "You want to know what happened? Klingons, Mr. Sulu,
Klingons. They decloaked right in front of us and started firing on
your little ship." He grimaced. "And I thought transporters were
dangerous! Apparently, they just wanted the captain to know that they
wanted some payment for that little trinket he picked out of their
pockets. And they claimed payment in the form of one aging Federation
shuttlecraft."

Sulu felt the blood drain from his face, and knew he must look ill,
judging by the frown that creased McCoy's face. "Doctor, d'you mean
she's ..."

"She's gone, Sulu," the doctor said gravely. "I'm sorry -- I know how
attached you were to that little ship."

You don't know the beginning of it, Sulu thought. "I'll be all right,
sir," he said, tamping down a spring of grief.

McCoy smiled sadly and patted his patient's shoulder. The touch was
soothing, and Sulu figured he would pull through -- after a suitable
period of mourning, life would have to go on. "Rest yourself, Sulu,"
McCoy said, and left the area.

Sulu lay still, hardly able to believe that she was gone. Gone. In the
prime of her life, she had been viciously murdered by those Klingon
bastards ...

Then he felt a familiar contact in his mind, and drew in a sharp
breath. He hardly dared to hope, but yet, only one being had that
gentle, caressing mind-touch --

//Galileo,// he breathed.

//I am within you, Hikaru.// He was taken aback. Certainly, she wasn't
one to conceal her intentions!

//You're -- what?//

//I joined with your consciousness when the enemies destroyed my
physical form. You, as the pilot, were in closest contact at the time.
I hope you do not mind, but I could not allow myself to die without
some sort of closure in my life.>

//Closure?// Sulu was a bit overwhelmed.

//You ... and Spock. I needed to say good-bye.//

//Good-bye...// Suddenly he was struck again by the realization that
the Galileo was destroyed. That breathtaking hull, with her lily-like
contours, gone from the world ... he couldn't bear to think of it.

//Yes...// Her voice was a mental whisper. //Good-bye. I have loved
you, Hikaru; you were dear to me in my life. You and Spock, my lovers
... I shall miss you, if there is a life after this one.//

Sulu jolted. //You mean you're still going to die? I thought you would
...//

//Live forever?// He felt the soft smile in her voice. //I cannot
remain in your body, nor can I transfer to another shuttlecraft. I
might dwell in a computer bank indefinitely, but I could not bear such
a confined existence.//

//I understand.// Sulu did his best not to cry; it was a losing
battle.

//I must speak with Spock. Can you touch him?//

It took a moment for Sulu to realign his thoughts. //Touch him? Oh,
contact requires physical touch, I remember. But I don't know where he
is; he was hurt in the attack.//

//He is nearby,// she said quietly. //Very near.//

Fighting a wave of nausea, Sulu sat up slowly to see Spock, lying
awake in the next biobed. For the first time he noticed the combined
thrumming of the two beds; he wondered if the sound was designed to be
soothing. It wasn't.

"Spock ..." he started.

The Vulcan rolled over and looked at him with wide-open, anguished
eyes. "She is gone," he rasped.

"No -- she is -- in me," he said carefully, not wanting to upset
Spock. He needn't have worried; the Vulcan did not stir.

Carefully, he stood, and swung himself into a sitting position on
Spock's bed. The thrumming became more rapid. He took the
semi-responsive Vulcan's hand and heard Galileo speak to him.

//Spock -- I am within Hikaru's body.//

His eyes lost their glaze of pain, and he half-rose. "My one?" he
whispered urgently. "I thought you had been destroyed."

//I am merely borrowing time; soon I will have to leave this body,
lest Hikaru lose his mind. I needed only to say good-bye to you -- my
one.//

Sulu unconsciously tightened his hand on Spock's; the Vulcan sat up
straight and gripped Sulu's arm with his other hand, as though drawing
strength from the man. "I do not know if I can go on without you," he
said hoarsely.

The two bodies were inches apart, but neither was quite aware of the
other; both were caught up in the voice of the shuttlecraft.

//Spock -- my one -- you are so strong. You will continue. You will
survive.//

"I am afraid..."

The consciousness of the Galileo, in Sulu's body, leaned forward just
a tiny amount. Sulu's lips found Spock's. The Vulcan's kiss was fierce
and hot; but Sulu was hardly aware of anything past the Galileo's deep
longing to be one with Spock.

It was Spock who broke the kiss off. When he spoke, his voice was
rough. "Good-bye, my one," he said.

//Dear Spock, my one, good bye.// Her voice faded into nothing and
disappeared, and then it was only Sulu and Spock sitting on a plain,
lonely bed in Sickbay.

Spock looked at Sulu. "Thank you," he said. "That was very --
unnecessary. You have done us a great service."

Sulu shook his head, trying to rid himself of the fuzziness of being
inhabited by another consciousness. "I hardly know what I did," he
said shakily.

Spock hesitated. "That is probably best, then."

"She's gone, sir," Sulu said slowly.

Spock nodded. "She was a beautiful creature ... I ... am certain I
loved her."

"As did I."

"We shall continue with our lives, then," Spock said flatly.

"Maybe someday we'll forget her," Sulu offered.

Both men thought that possibility highly unlikely.

---

The End