The BLTS Archive - Interludes
#7: Daydream Believer
by T'Kuht (lngbrnchlady@yahoo.com)

---

He ate sand.  It tasted awful and wiping it off his face he rolled
over to a sitting position to brush the sand out of his hair.

"You okay?"

Spock looked up through the grit at Christine Chapel who was smiling.
She knew he wasn't hurt but wasn't gloating over her ace.  He nodded.

"You have a formidable spiking arm."

"That arm won me a scholarship to Dalhousie my undergraduate  career,"
she answered and flopped down next to him on the sand  court.  She had
routed him 15-2.  He had agreed to play her in  a game of beach
volleyball not realizing she aimed to kill.

"I fear my abilities are paltry compared to yours," he excused
truthfully.

"You do all right as long as you don't have to try to dive.   You
really don't do that well," she pointed out and resisted  the urge to
brush more sand out of the still impeccably  straight hair.  "That leg
gives you a lot of trouble, doesn't  it?"

"At times, when it is humid or I attempt to move in two  directions at
the same time," he explained.

"Oh no and here you had a double whammy.  I'm sorry,"  Christine
apologized.  When she'd proposed the game she'd not  intended to give
herself an unfair advantage.  "Maybe if we  set the room for Vulcan
norms the next go around."

"I would still lose and you would surely collapse of heat  exhaustion,
or worse," he stated matter-of-factly.

They sat for a few minutes resting until Christine got up and
retrieved their water bottles.  "So, how did you hurt your leg
anyway?"

It was in his records so he felt no intrusion on his privacy  and
strangely enough he didn't feel as if it were a personal  question.
"While a lieutenant under Captain Pike thirteen  years ago we were
engaged in hand to hand combat on Rigel 7.   It resulted in three dead
and seven wounded severely enough to  be sent to a base hospital.  I
was one of the more fortunate.   Pike considered himself personally
responsible for the  debacle.  He was not."

"No?" Christine asked in a non-accusatory tone.  "Is that why  he
protested at being promoted to Commodore?"

Spock nodded. "So I assume."

Chapel finished her water. "I heard what happened, such a loss.  I've
worked in wards with Delta ray patients.  He'll forever be a hero, but
at that price. . . "

Spock let the sand filter through his fingers as she spoke.   "What
are they like?" he asked softly.

Christine sighed wishing she'd never brought it up, "The  undead who
aren't even as well off as zombies.  Minds trapped  forever with
useless arms, legs, voices.  I can't imagine  being confined like that
even for a day, but for the rest of  my life. . .   Most end up going
mad or willing their bodies to  die.  Ethically, professionally, I
can't condone euthanasia,  but by God I couldn't stand that as my
fate.  I've had it  entered into my files."

Spock considered her words; they chilled him to the core and  he could
not accept what had happened to Pike.

Chapel sniffed as the thoughts of Roger's solution came to  her.  She
whispered, "No one need ever die again. . . "

"Excuse me?" Spock asked noting her sudden distress.

Shakily, she answered, "Roger's justification for putting what was
left of him and Brown in android form.  I think maybe I finally
understand and accept. . . "  Tears rolled freely down her cheeks.
"If only he'd lived, not destroyed himself, maybe he could have seen
the true good of his discovery.  It would have given Pike and others
like him life again instead of a living death."

Resting her head on her knees to weep in silence, Chapel could  feel
the light touch of Spock's hand as he brushed the wisps  of hair that
had stuck to her sweat dampened shoulder.  The  great depth of
loneliness, regret, and guilt shot through him  and he pulled away.
His emotions were enough to deal with; he  couldn't take on hers as
well, but he didn't completely pull  away either.  Soon she vented
enough that she regained  control.  Looking up at the gray metal walls
she changed the  subject completely, "You know with the right
equipment you  could turn this room into a real beach.  The sand's
here and  with the right programs you could project a seascape or even
a  desert on all the walls, maybe even Coney Island with the  sounds
of the Boardwalk and the barkers.  For a little time  you could live
in your fantasy instead of just play beach  volleyball in a room."

It was possible, in fact easily done and Spock was about to  say so
when a diabolical idea came to him in a flash.  Where  else had he
been where illusion ruled and broken, twisted  bodies had dreams for
reality all their days. . .  But it meant  mutiny, death, dishonor. .
.   Was Christopher Pike worth it?

Spock's leg twinged, an eternal reminder that Pike had  considered him
worth saving all those years earlier.  It was  time to repay the debt,
but it would require time, plans, and  conviction.  The Vulcan nodded.
"It would be easy to create  what you wish.  In fact, simple and I
will attend to it  immediately."

The idea of what he was considering balled up in his stomach  and
before he could leave Spock stopped, turned. "But it can  wait.
Perhaps if you were to teach me to dive properly. . . "

Christine brightened, "Sure.  You never get too old to learn
something new."

Spock agreed, realizing this might be the last time he saw her  and
before he had no more time he said, "Thank you."

She laughed as she brushed off the back of her legs. "For  what?"

He thought a moment. "For a day at the beach if nothing else."

---

The End