He continued leaning into the chair leg with his own weight, however, feeling the sting of angry tears in his eyes. It was too late … too late for Jerry, maybe for any of them. He'd seen Palmer escape, yet he couldn't help wondering how long it would be before someone else came bursting into the room to discover the evidence.
As he felt the last twitch of movement from the alien machine, he forced himself to stand on shaky legs, turning to see Spock observing him from across the room. The second operative was in a similar state of disarray on the floor, but the Vulcan's cold gaze held no sense of victory. The warm, secret smile was absent.
Kirk felt his mind chill in denial when he saw the single drop of green blood on the long-sleeved shirt. Perfectly clean and round, he knew without daring to ask that the Vulcan had been hit with one of the poison cartridges too. He stopped breathing, felt time stand still, fold back on itself, then start forward again. For a moment, he thought he would find himself in another universe right there; but something stabilized as he continued to stare numbly at his companion. "Spock?" he murmured, his legs unable to move well enough to bridge the short distance between them. "Spock! No!"
The Vulcan shook his head. "There is still time, Jim," he responded, his voice somehow weaker than Kirk remembered it. "We must move quickly, however, for I do not know how long I can … can …" His words faltered and he swayed slightly.
"Spock!" Kirk gasped, moving a step closer as the horror climbed inside his mind with tangible force.
The Vulcan raised his hand, motioning Kirk back. "We must … destroy the operatives completely, Jim," he explained, knowing he could not permit himself the luxury of going to Kirk now. He reached into the folds of the loose-fitting shirt, withdrawing a Romulan disruptor.
Kirk's eyes widened as he stared at the weapon. "Spock … why didn't you just … why didn't you use that to begin with?" he demanded, feeling a surge of anger as he realized that it would have spared the Vulcan's life. "Why?" he persisted.
The Vulcan's eyes warmed as they met Kirk's, and he methodically set the weapon to its widest disintegration beam. "Despite the fact that Thea gave me this to destroy her operatives, I could not … find it in myself to be so gentle. . . ." He swayed once again, then glanced briefly at Richardson, who had slumped to the floor. His eyes were closed, face pallid, breathing shallow. In another moment, the Vulcan realized, he would be dead, and he felt the forbidden emotions swell in him once more. But it no longer mattered. "I could not deny you the victory over the men who have made us what we are, Jim," he explained, his voice weary. "I could not …" His words slipped away.
Kirk felt the tightness in his throat, the sting in his eyes. He looked at the two dismembered machines on the floor, then turned back to the Vulcan, suddenly understanding why Spock had chosen that course of action. It was, Kirk realized, Spock's way of letting the defiant Ensign Kirk emerge victorious just once—the Vulcan's way of allowing himto reconstruct the very universe they had lost. He smiled wistfully, then went to retrieve the disruptor from trembling hands. Without a second thought, he turned the weapon on the machine he had battled and pulled the trigger.
A bright flash of blue lightning filled the room, enveloping the still figure for a moment; and when only a dark shadow remained on the floor, Kirk knew it was over. Then, still holding his own emotions at bay, he turned the device on the second machine, repeating the action mercilessly. It wasn't killing, he told himself. A machine had never lived to begin with … and he wondered if hehad either.
When it was finished, he turned back to the Vulcan, slipping the weapon into his own shirt. In another moment … it would be over for them, too. He looked once at Jerry, then moved to the young man's side and placed one hand on the whitened face. There was no life there. And soon, Kirk realized, he would follow. He rose, his eyes fastened on the still form of his roommate … and very slowly, he saw reality start to dissolve. In an instant, only empty space remained where Richardson's body had been. Kirk swallowed the sudden pain in his throat, trying not to mourn for a phantom … but it wasn't easy. Romeo… he thought sadly, realizing that poison had perhaps been a fitting end. The tears tried to come, but he refused to acknowledge them.
"C'mon, Spock," he murmured, taking his companion's arm and forcing the captain to lean on him as he made his way toward the open doors. "I don't want to be here when the authorities show up. . . ."
The Vulcan accepted Kirk's support without resistance, grateful for the warmth and security as the cold hand of Morpheus came a little closer.
When they reached the hall, it was still deserted. Apparently, Kirk surmised, the confusion was still too recent for the place to be swarming with police, hotel officials and curious onlookers. His only satisfaction was in the knowledge that there would be nothing to find when they did arrive.
He led the Vulcan to the nearby elevator, stepped inside the waiting car, and pressed the button which would lead to the roof. There, he thought mournfully, they would be able to see the stars. . . .
The Bay was calm and quiet as Kirk looked down, still supporting the Vulcan with his own waning strength. "How long, Spock?" he asked, his voice surprisingly calm with acceptance. "How long before we … ?"
Spock shook his head, eyes closing. "I do not know, Jim," he whispered. The poison, he knew, had already taken its toll. He slumped to the gravel floor of the roof, not surprised to hear the human slide down by his side. For a moment, he tried to go over the details … not that it would matter, he reminded himself, but they seemed nonetheless important.
The worst that would happen, he understood, would be that Doctor Palmer and his associates would have a large mystery to explain … and no evidence to support their claims.
He let it go, turning his attention to Kirk instead. For a moment, he felt the dizziness; but this time, he realized, it wasn't because of the poison. With the operatives destroyed and his own death imminent, First History was struggling to reassert itself.
"I … do not believe the end will be painful, Jim," he stated logically.
Kirk smiled wistfully at the Vulcan's peculiar train of thought, but didn't respond.
The Vulcan sighed deeply, glancing up at the stars once again. "Are you sorry to leave this particular life?" he wondered philosophically.
"No … I'm not, Spock," he said, suddenly realizing the truth in that statement. He too felt the dizziness, the disorientation, the unreality. "If this had happened six years ago, I might've been sorry … but I feel like I've gained something … like I've found something that was missing back at the Academy. . . ."
The Vulcan nodded, noticing without alarm that his legs were numb, his arms growing cold and distant as if they were no longer attached to his body. There wasn't much time … but that no longer seemed important. He had found his contentment as well. "Then come with me," he murmured. He inclined his head toward the black night sky.
Spock began the meld. Kirk knew they were dying, perhaps only to be resurrected in another universe, another time … a distant reality. But it felt safe, secure … right. Shewould be waiting, he told himself.
"Take us home, Spock," he said without fear, and closed his eyes as reality stopped.
In another moment, the roof was empty, and only the night remained. Overhead, a single star fell from the sky, burning to ashes long before it touched the transformed Earth.