mrwubbles | FIC: And The Band Keeps Playing On (STXI, Gen, PG-13) 2/2

LJ no like long stories. Here is part 2. Done. Complete. Huzzah. Back under my rock finishing E! and Due South fic now.

Title: And The Band Keeps Playing On
Rating: PG-13, gen, angst, h/c
Words: Complete, 7,800+, betaed by

brate01
Summary: Jim asked five questions about Tarsus. He received five answers.

<--Part 1

"What are the odds?"

Spock looked up from his PADD. His right eyebrow rose, high into his hairline.

"Should you not be recuperating in your quarters, Captain?"

The captain leaned against one of the laboratory's mainframes. He was dressed in his uniform, except the left leg of his black trousers was slit to accommodate the brace.

Kirk gestured with a lightly scarred hand—the captain had refused to stay under the dermal regenerator any longer once he'd learned that they were still searching for other bomb victims.

"I have a cane." Kirk raised the black walking stick in his hand, mirroring Lieutenant Sulu's favorite fencing stance. "Plus, I promised the good doctor I was going to stay put."

Spock tracked Kirk as he made his way to the chair next to him.

"I believe what the doctor meant," Spock commented after he was assured the captain was safely seated, "when he stated you were to 'stay put,' was referring to your quarters."

"Quarters, laboratories, practically the same thing," Kirk said in a manner that reminded Spock of the day he defeated the Kobayashi Maru.

"Your quarters are on deck five. This is deck nine," Spock reminded him.

Kirk shrugged. "Both are safe and sound on the Enterprise." He nodded toward the PADD in Spock's hand. "Is that your final report? May I?"

Spock wordlessly slid the device over.

Kirk did not ask questions as he scanned Spock's assessment report, his eyes darting very efficiently from left to right as he read. He nodded at some sections, his fingers tapped lightly on the desk at others. After a moment, his hand stilled and Kirk lifted his eyes off the PADD.

"What are the odds?" he repeated.

Spock blinked. "The odds?"

Kirk glanced back to the report he held, perhaps to verify he hadn't missed a detail. "Of this happening again?"

Head cocked, Spock considered the captain's question. "You are referring to the infestation on the previous colony, or the genocide ordered by its first governor, His Supreme Commander Governor Kodos?"

There was a wince in response. Spock debated paging the doctor. Perhaps the knee was still giving the captain some discomfort.

Kirk didn't appear to have been amused by what Spock said, yet he chuckled, his pitch strangely off register to his normal tones of humor.

"Both." The PADD was pushed back across the desk.

Spock studied the report, although he knew the contents well. He reviewed what he recalled in his mind and made the appropriate calculations.

"While there is no evidence of the same microorganism that plagued the colony, there is still a possibility of infection from visiting starships, as well as contaminated seed stock." Spock met Kirk's gaze as he continued with his conclusions. "The present government assigned to Tarsus is fractured and lacks discipline. Internal protests and anti-government actions may render safety protocols inadequate. Other factors are difficult to calculate. The colonists may indeed be prone to the same kind of planetary panic that occurred in 2246 despite present preventative measures."

"And?" Kirk leaned forward. "What are the chances it could happen again?"

Spock hesitated. "By my calculations, four point three five percent."

Kirk dropped back against his seat. He stared at Spock, his mouth open.

"It is," Spock reassured, "a small number, Captain. It means there is a ninety-five point six five percent chance that a reoccurrence will not be experienced."

Kirk looked at the PADD, his eyes hidden from view. "But not one hundred percent."

"Negative. It is not statistically possible to achieve one hundred given its history and the unpredictability of human actions."

Kirk sighed. "History tends to repeat itself, huh?" His shoulders slumped.

Spock studied Kirk's posture, puzzled why the human appeared more upset than the new governor had been. The leader had presented a pleased mien when told the numbers. Had Spock misinterpreted the governor's countenance?

"How many are children, Spock?" As soon as Kirk asked, he shook his head. He tossed the PADD down on the desktop. "Never mind."

"There are four thousand two hundred colonists," Spock informed him anyway, sensing a strange desire for the information in the other man despite his denial. "Sixty percent of them are children." Spock observed Kirk nodding absently at the numbers.

"The colony is smaller," Kirk calculated. "Only half."

"Fear would have kept many away." Spock noted Kirk's set mouth. The captain appeared to have lost weight; but an immeasurable amount, one that would not have detracted the captain from his duty. Perhaps, Spock decided, it was why Doctor McCoy had asked (demanded) the captain's menu be adjusted to his specifications.

"Makes sense," Kirk murmured. "After what happened, none of the survivors returned. Who would want to?" He rubbed his index fingers against his temple in small circles. "The fields then were pretty much useless anyway."

Spock nodded. "The contagion was resilient. It took sixteen months to revitalize the soil."

"They finally got rid of the smell, too," Kirk whispered.

Spock hesitated. Kirk clamped his mouth shut as if the last remark was not meant for his presence.

"You were there," Spock realized. There was an unaccustomed sensation that twisted in his abdomen.

Kirk's face smoothed away to form a blank expression the remaining Vulcan elders would have approved of. However, the curling and uncurling fist over the handle of his cane betrayed what his face did not.

"You were young."

Again, the odd weary smile returned across the captain's face. "We all were." Kirk clapped his hands on his upper thighs and levered himself awkwardly off the chair. Kirk shook his head, vetoing Spock's offered hand. He took a staggering step back before he leaned on the cane.

"Send your evaluations to Admiral Pike. Include a copy to the governor and me as well. Don—"

"Jim." Spock stood. He wasn't certain why he felt compelled to speak. Kirk was steps away from the door when he turned around to face Spock.

Spock clasped his hands behind his back. "The decontamination processor used for their imported seeds has a dual beam containment system to filter out hazardous DNA out of their supplies." With a slight hesitation, Spock continued, his eyes on Kirk. "A third chamber to irradiate the overall seeds a final time may eliminate harmless proteins the initial two beams possibly miss."

It was…unsettling how Kirk stared at him, his usually expressive face revealed nothing.

"Your report indicated the processor's dual chambers would be sufficient." Kirk faced him completely. His mouth curved up faintly. "An additional radiation sweep after two passes sounds…illogical, Mr. Spock."

Spock agreed. He was not sure why he offered such an improvident alternative. "While an inefficient use of energy, it would be as humans often enjoy saying…" Spock reviewed the terminology before finishing with "it would be 'better safe than sorry.'"

Blue eyes crinkled in front of him. Spock made a point to stare at the comm panel just past Kirk's left ear.

Kirk nodded. "Make the recommendation, Spock." He stopped by the door as it glided open for him.

"Thanks." Kirk murmured low enough Spock could barely hear it.

It was illogical to be thanked for doing his duty. Nevertheless, Spock bowed his head in return, well after the captain had departed.

"Is it enough?"

Chris skimmed through the last section of the report before nodding. He raised his chin towards the monitor on his desk. Jim Kirk was staring back, unblinking, as if he was across the table, not light-years away.

Chris nodded. "The last time I've read a report this detailed was a certain cadet's thesis on Admiral Coro's Cardon Maneuver."

Kirk blinked, definitely not expecting that, and broke into the familiar, toothy grin Chris was used to seeing during his weekly comms. Yes, he knew an admiral didn't need to get the reports personally, but that had been his ship, too, dammit.

"Finally," Chris murmured.

The grin wavered.

Chris couldn't help but grin back at the screen. "Nothing. Just beginning to think I'd reached an alternate reality there, Jim."

The communication stuttered at times, microseconds lost to the ether of space, but it was clear enough to see Kirk was doing his damnedest not to roll his eyes.

"I didn't think anyone actually ever read that paper."

Chris was glad for the privilege of rank which afforded him a private office suite. That way, no one could hear him make a rude snort.

"Three hundred and twelve pages of veiled insinuations that Coro was an idiot?" Chris was not going to mention, however, that he also had printed it in old-fashioned paper, and had it bound. And he was never going to mention how it had somehow become the focus of a drinking game between him and John: a shot of Romulan ale every time the thesis alluded—in new and creative ways—that Coro was a moron. Last time they'd played, Chris had woken up to discover someone had gotten one of the beagle pups to urinate "Piss off Coro" in the snow.

"Well, then, I hope this report makes just as interesting of a read for the Admiralty."

Chris grunted. He shifted in his chair—the nerves on his lower spine would pretty much rebel against him for the rest of his life—and he lifted the data chip loaded with the medical, science and command assessments on the new Tarsus colony. "I'm sure it will."

Chris continued, "I've been told the bombers have been caught?" He could see the bandage that must cover newly healed pink scars peeking out from the regulation rounded black collar. Chris made a face. "That looks new."

His suspicions were confirmed when Jim shrugged only his right shoulder. Despite his care, that movement still pulled a grimace Jim couldn't hide. "Yeah, well, you know how it is. Everyone loves to throw a party."

"Now I see why Commander Spock requested backup from the Horizon," Chris mused out loud. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of yet another white sterile gauze strip edging around the back of Jim's neck. "I'll admit, Doctor McCoy's report was…troubling." Troubling enough, Chris had been tempted to not only send the Horizon, but the Lexington and Utah as well.

Jim gave him another half lift of his right shoulder. "Some of them really didn't want a new colony built." Jim scratched his chin with a thumb. "People believe this place is hallowed ground."

Running a hand through his silver hair, Chris blew out a breath quietly through his teeth. "Understandable." He leaned back and studied Jim over his clasped hands. He shook his head ruefully. "When I first heard of where Starfleet wanted to send you, I—"

"We talked about that," Jim interrupted. "At least this way, I can be of some help. Make sure it doesn't…" Jim sucked in his breath. "All of our reports are almost done. We'll be here another week or so. If there's anything you need us to reinvestigate or reiterate, let us know."

A smile tugged at the corners of Chris' mouth. "So long as you didn't accuse anyone—and I quote—of 'lacking the sufficient understanding to comprehend the intricacies of strategy and foresight to navigate their way out of a paper bag,' I think your report will be fine."

Jim smirked, that cocky uplift of an eyebrow that he'd presented to many a frustrated instructor during his three years in the Academy. Chris had wondered if he had tested out of so many prerequisite courses because he was that much of a genius, or the teachers simply didn't want to deal with him.

A tiny buzz of a comm behind Jim caused the Enterprise's captain to sigh. This time, he did indulge in an eye roll.

"That's either Spock wanting another chess game, Sulu wanting fencing practice, or Scotty with another upgrade he wants to run by me."

Chris chuckled. He folded his arms over his chest and favored Jim with a smile. "Nice to see the crew is keeping you busy, Captain."

The puzzlement in Jim's knitted brow was comical. "I don't know what it is. This past week, I've been Mr. Popular. Chekov's been coming up to me in the Mess to tell me how everything originated from Russia. Gaila has been suddenly fascinated with Earth baking, and keeps asking me to try things. Even Lieutenant Uhura's been dropping by to see if I wanted to learn Holkanese for our next trade mission."

"We have universal translators," Chris reminded him, but his grin was widening.

Jim shot him an annoyed look just bordering on insubordinate. Just. "I know!"

The buzz behind Jim started up again. Louder, longer, as if the button was being jammed down. Jim huffed.

"No, that's definitely Bones with my meds." Jim scowled.

Chris bit back a chuckle.

"He doesn't trust me to take them if he leaves my doses here."

"I wonder why?" murmured Chris.

"What?"

"Nothing." With regret, Chris leaned closer to the screen. "I'll leave you to your doctor's care then."

Jim gave him a long, pitiful expression that wasn't fooling him. "Must you? Isn't there a suicidal mission you could send me to? Maybe to a Klingon brothel?"

This time, Chris barked out a laugh. "Take care of yourself, Captain. Thank you for the reports." He reached over to sign off. "Pike o—"

"Chris."

His finger hovering over the "End" button, Chris waited.

"Is it enough?" Jim asked, subdued. The comm behind him was silent now, too, as if whoever was behind the door was waiting as well.

"It is."

"It wasn't before."

Chris closed his eyes briefly. "That's because no one thought to check before." No one thought it could be possible. But then an entire planet winked out of existence. A black hole brought forth a massacre and thousands of empty Starfleet coffins. Chris opened his eyes and met Jim's squarely.

"I'll make sure it's enough, Captain Kirk."

"How did he cope?"

Council Elder Spa'tock paused. He knew it was dangerous to choose a name so close to his own, but he was old enough to permit himself the indulgence, to admit human sentimentality.

It was only in these rare moments, when Jim dared to contact him on New Vulcan, did Spa'tock allow himself to think of himself as Spock.

"Tarsus Colony," Spock said to the screen. It was to Jim's credit he did not flinch at the name. His old friend had continued to hesitate over the doomed colony's name for eleven point one years even after Kodos was killed by his own daughter.

"It happened to him, too." It was not a question.

"Yes." Spock studied the image before him, years younger than he was accustomed to, yet he detected shadows on the face that weren't there when they had last communicated.

Jim laughed bitterly. Despite his years among humans, Spock still could not fully understand the need to voice amusement in the face of none.

"It figures… as different as our timelines may be, this would be the universe's own fucked up joke that we would share." Jim carded a hand through his hair. "I was sent back to the planet a few days ago. There's a new colony there." A weary look crossed over Jim's face. "I hadn't thought about Tarsus in a long while."

Spock doubted it. He seated himself on the floor, crossing his legs in a meditative pose but it did not calm him as he's wanted. "I had hoped you were fortunate enough in this timeline to not have been situated there. I regret I am mistaken."

"Not your fault." Jim averted his eyes, his gaze somewhere beyond the monitor. "I just…I was thirteen."

"As was he."

"Oh." Jim appeared unsure how to react to this bit of information. "After…I was sick for a long time. Supplements, IVs, nutrition plans, therapists." Jim took a steadying breath. "And the whole time, all everyone back on Earth wanted to do was talk about it. That was the last thing I wanted to do."

Spock nodded. "It was a difficult experience. The Jim Kirk I knew, as you are aware, shared an unusual level of regard between myself and Dr. McCoy, but still he was reluctant to speak of this time to us."

Jim looked relieved to hear this. "But you know everything. How did he…" Jim's mouth pressed together. "Did he ever say how he…"

Spock recognized the struggle for words, the echo of a familiar gesture that once more made him long for his past. Not this past. He was at a lost as how to advise James T. Kirk, not when it was Jim who had often advised him.

"The memories were difficult." Spock chose his words carefully. "But he shared them with us. Eventually. We were…persistent."

Jim understood. His mouth quirked. "Yeah, I guess that does sound familiar."

There was a chime at Jim's door. He swiveled in his chair to listen.

Spock's right eyebrow rose. Even across the transmission line, he could hear his counterpart's even tone and the doctor's gravelly voice through Jim's door enunciator.

Spock found himself pleased there were some things consistent no matter the timeline.

Shouting something unintelligible at the door, Jim chuckled awkwardly as he turned back around and caught Spock's expression.

Jim rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah…apparently, I'm late for dinner." He shook his head. "How I'm going to eat with those two going at it like cats and dogs…" Jim grimaced. "No offense."

"None taken," Spock returned. He bid Jim farewell with some regret.

As Jim leaned over to sign off, the door behind him slid open. McCoy's "Well it's about damn time," and Spock's counterpart's stiff objection floated in. Spock caught the look of fond tolerance on Jim's face just before the screen went dark.

Spock remained where he was, sitting on the floor, his thoughts still in turmoil. Regret clouded his recollection of their conversation. It was unfortunate Tarsus must plague his friend in both realities.

But then he thought of the glimpse of twin blue uniforms entering Jim's quarters, their strides determined, resolute.

Apparently persistence was a universal constant as well.

In the privacy of his home, Spock smiled.

The End

Author's Acknowledgment: Without

myfieldnotes this fic wouldn't have been finished. Without

brate01 and her red pen, you'all would have strung me up. –lol- These two helped me make a coherent fic and a joy to be posting again.

Feedback is like cookies. I like cookies. -lol-