Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: 28 Feb 2004 18:42:26 -0800 In: alt.startrek.creative From: djinn@djinnslair.com (Djinn) TITLE: The Lost Years: Hellspawn(Slayer Series) AUTHOR: Djinn CONTACT: djinn@djinnslair.com http://www.djinnslair.com SERIES: TOS RATING: PG-13 CODES: Ch, K, U, Others PART: 5/6 SUMMARY: The sixth in the Lost Years series. Kirk sat in the resources meeting, trying not to yawn. If he'd known how much of his life was going to be taken up with administrative duties, he might have not rushed so quickly through the ranks. It wasn't helping that he had the nagging feeling that Chris needed him. When the meeting finally broke up, he grabbed his padds and escaped before one of his colleagues could latch onto him for an after-meeting gab session. Hurrying out of Command and over to Medical, he headed for Chris's office, not even needing to try to feel for her with magic. He just knew she was there. She was. "Jim." She smiled as he popped his head in. "You okay?" She motioned for him to close the door. He sat down in front of her. "You saw our mutual friend?" She nodded. "It's bad." "I know you can't tell me here. But later you can." He touched her hand, was troubled by how shaken she seemed. She put her other hand over his, holding him tightly. "I don't think I can. I don't think I should. You need to be able to keep working with...you know who...and if I tell you what I saw, I'm not sure that you'll be able to. Or that you won't convince me that we need to do something. Which is clearly not what our mutual friend wants to happen. Yet." She sighed. "And she is our friend. After what I saw, I know who the enemy is." He frowned. "What you saw obviously is troubling you. I think you need to get it out." She shook her head. "I'll tell you eventually. But for now, you have to let me hold this close." "All right. For now." He squeezed her hand. "Can our mutual friend help us with our other little problem?" "Solutions to our various problems always seem full of conditions." She touched her neck, a seemingly random gesture, unless you knew the necklace was there. He nodded. "Ah." "We're on our own with him." "Not quite." He pulled his hand free and began to call up the program he'd been playing with during the meeting. The other admirals had probably just thought he was running numbers for a pet project. "I've been thinking about what you said. A weapon like a flamethrower only smaller." "And you came up with something?" "I did. But I also took the liberty of authorizing phasers for you, and Uhura, and me." "They won't kill them, you know that." He nodded, wondered if the Klingon-type disruptor weapons would do better. Could vampire magic stand up to a beam that could tear a body's subatomic structure to pieces? "I know the kill setting won't work, but at close enough range the cutting beam could cut through flesh. Sever a head from a neck?" "You'd have to be pretty close." "A last resort possibly, but still better than nothing. I've also been known to take a phaser camping to get a fire started, if the vamp's clothes are flammable...?" She laughed. "Anything that works?" "Why not?" He made a few more adjustments to the schematic he'd been working on since she'd told him about her run in with Wharton. "But this is what I'm interested in. We need two things. First, a delivery mechanism that will cut through body armor." She nodded. "Some kind of armor piercing artillery." "They used to call them tank-killers. We don't need anything that big, but you get the idea." He walked around, showed her the small handheld weapon. "Secondly, we need fire. Fire that stays where we put it, that burns and burns. Have you ever heard of Napalm?" She shook her head. "Basically it was made to keep a liquid incendiary agent burning for long periods where it originally was placed instead of running off. If we could make something like this, something that could be ignited by the initial delivery charge, then the burn might be long enough for the fire to reach critical mass." "Which on a vampire does not have to be that much." She studied the designs. "Can we make this?" "We? No. But Chekov's a bit bored these days. And he's security, after all." He grinned. "He's playing around with the designs." "Did you tell him why?" "I told him just enough." "Ah." Chris shook her head. "It's our best shot so far." He nodded. "Unless I can learn to shoot firebolts out of my fingers." "How's that coming?" "It's not. I have another session with Weasel in the morning." He realized he was leaning over her, his hand on her shoulder, his face very close to hers. He slowly straightened up and walked around the desk, putting it safely between them. She grinned. "Don't run away on my account." "Prudence dictates--" "Who the hell is Prudence and how did she get involved in this?" He laughed. "Speaking of which. You were pretty proprietary back there with Carol." She looked down, a slight flush on her face. "I know. I'm sorry. I mean, what if she had been someone you were interested in? I had no right to do that." "Well, your instincts were right. And I didn't mind." He looked down. "I probably should mind, but I didn't." She leaned forward. "Maybe you don't mind because deep down you think it's how it should be. I mean us...together." He looked away. "I'm just saying." "I know what you're saying. It's not that simple." "I think it is." She held up her hand as he started to respond. "But, I know you don't. So I'll shut up now." She shot him a sweet, if disappointed, smile. "You know if I could..." "I know." She stood up. "I've got a meeting I have to go to. Thank you for coming by. I was...upset." "I know. I felt it." He shot her a 'don't say a word' look. "I'll see you tomorrow." "Right." They walked out together, and he took his time getting back to Command. His afternoon loomed fairly open, which would give him more time to do boring, mundane tasks. God knew it wasn't always exciting sitting a boring shift on the ship. But at least he'd been out in space, doing something other than voting yea or nay on a funding issue or debating the merits of this or that personnel transfer. His comm rang. He hit it absently, "Yes, Commander?" "There's a Lieutenant Chekov here to see you, sir." Kirk smiled. "Send him in." "Hello, sir." Chekov smiled; he seemed pleased with himself. "Well, Pavel, are you going to tell me what you've done that's got you so happy, or are you going to just keep it to yourself all afternoon? And sit." Chekov took a chair. "I wanted to show you this. I think it would work with a minimum of chemical mixture needed. You did say you want sustained burn in a single point of entry?" Kirk nodded. "This should work. My problem was trying to design a combination that would keep the delivery mechanism a manageable size. For some of the mixtures, you'd need so much in the chemical mix that the artillery would have to be shoulder rocket size. Not very inconspicuous and you can't carry extra ammo." "Gotcha." Kirk looked over the mixture. "How long will it take you to make this?" "Make it, sir? I thought you just wanted quick designs?" Kirk laughed. "I may have left out the manufacturing part. Is it something you can do in your spare time?" Chekov nodded. "But I'm not sure I'm supposed to. Is this an order, sir?" "No. I can't order you to do this. I just need a favor." He held his hand out for the padd. "Give me the designs. I'll find someone else to make it." Chekov studied the padd in his hand, then stuck it under his arm. "That's all right, sir. It will be a challenge. It's rare that I get to practice with anything hands on." He leaned forward. "I presume discretion is critical?" "I'm afraid so." Chekov grinned. "Then I'll refrain from test firing it on the parade ground." Kirk laughed. "Good idea." He studied the young man. He seemed more confident, less in need of proving himself. "How go the refits?" Chekov smiled. "They go well. She's a beautiful ship, sir. You'll hardly recognize her." Kirk nodded, tried not to let his envy show. "You know Doctor Chapel will be joining you?" Chekov nodded. "I heard that. It will be just like old times." He seemed to realize what he'd said. "For the junior officers, I mean." Kirk laughed. "I know what you meant, Pav. Don't worry." He waved him out. "I'm holding you up from your hands-on time." "Sir, I'll need to requisition some supplies." Kirk held his hand out for the padd, authorized the expenses to his department's account. If Nogura asked him what he was doing, he'd just tell him he was helping Chris. Let him think that was one of the prices of Kirk's cooperation. "Have you been up to see her, Pav? The ship?" Chekov nodded, smiling. "She's beautiful." "She's always been beautiful." "Yes, sir." Chekov looked down, then back up. "Is it too late to get her back?" "Yes, I'm afraid it is." Kirk leaned back, patted the arms of his desk chair. "This is my chair now." "Aye, sir." Chekov got up. "I'll get right on this." Kirk smiled, nodded. He watched Chekov walk out. The man had his whole life ahead of him. Years and years left in space. Kirk envied him. He forced himself to get back to work. He was restless and found it difficult to concentrate. He knew that any kind of distraction would get in the way of the work he'd be doing with Weasel, so he headed down to the gym. He worked out for a while but couldn't muster much enthusiasm for any of his favorite machines. Bone tired, he finally gave up and headed home. The walk to his apartment seemed unusually long and he decided to skip dinner and fell into bed. For once, he didn't wake before the alarm; the chirping of it jerked him awake and he struggled out of bed. He still wasn't hungry, felt a bit sick. He made coffee and drank it quickly. It didn't make him feel any better. In fact, he felt worse. He stumbled into the shower, let the hot water beat down on him. He closed his eyes, leaned against the wall of his shower and let the shower fall onto his lower back. He flashed back to his conversation with Carol, then to Chris, how close he'd been standing, how good she felt next to him. So many things in this world that he couldn't have. Why? Carol would use her son to get funding. She'd said it. Why did he have to be so honorable? Why shouldn't he use it too? And Chris? He wanted her. He wasn't sure he'd ever wanted a woman more. If he asked her, she'd bow out of the Enterprise assignment. She'd be with him. She loved him. Nogura could make it happen, and he'd give her a good post, a plum assignment. She'd be with him. He'd be happy then. He wouldn't be alone. He wouldn't be lonely. His son. The woman he loved. He could have them. It would be so easy. He turned off the water, stepped out of the shower, and reached for his towel. He could have it all. He stared down at his hands. What was he thinking? His hands began to shake, and he leaned against the wall. What he wanted didn't matter. He had to stay away from David. Until Carol decided she could share him on her own, not because of some stupid funding. And Chris wasn't his. She would never be his. Nausea overwhelmed him, and he barely made it to the toilet in time to throw up over and over again. He wanted--god help him, so many things he wanted. All within his reach now. All still lost to him. Just because he could see them didn't mean he could have them. He glanced at his chrono. Time to go. Long past. How much time had he spent in the shower? Feeling dizzy and weak, he pulled on his clothes, left the apartment, and headed down the street. He felt dizzy and turned in place, then turned again. He started walking again then realized he was going the wrong direction--away, not toward, Weasel. He stopped. What the hell was wrong with him? "Don't you like the scotch?" Nogura's words seemed to haunt him. He threw up into some bushes. An early morning jogger stopped. "Do you need help?" Kirk waved him off. "I'll be fine." The man shot him a look as if Kirk was some drunk, some derelict. He turned around and ran back the way he'd come. Kirk closed his eyes. "Weasel. Find Weasel." He didn't open his eyes, just turned slowly until he felt a tug. He kept his eyes nearly closed as he set out in the new direction, walked quickly, not looking up or around--afraid he'd get himself turned around again. That something was trying to keep him from finding Weasel. Sweat pouring down his face, he stumbled into the motel room that led to Weasel's workroom. "About damn time you got here, Mac." Weasel looked up from where he was watching the trivid, his face set in a scowl. Then he hurried over. "Jim. What the hell happened?" "No...gu...ra." Kirk collapsed, felt Weasel catch him. "Ma...gic." "No shit, my friend." Weasel eased him onto the bed. Kirk was distantly aware of Weasel opening the door that led downstairs, of being manhandled down the stairs by the thinner man. As the shields of the room began to close behind them, he started to feel better. "Okay, let's see what he's done to you." Weasel dropped him into the one soft chair and began to mix up some herbs. "You called me Jim." "Yeah. I know. Don't make a big deal of it. Everyone slips up." He grinned at Kirk as he pressed the glass into his hands. "Drink up. It tastes like crap but it'll make you feel better." "What's your name?" "No way, Mac." Weasel began to run his hands down Kirk's arm, the same way Nogura had done. Not touching him but still somehow affecting him. "Please? I won't tell anyone what it is." Kirk shot him his best "I'm dying here" face. In this case, he worried it might be true. If not from whatever Nogura had done to him, then from the god-awful grainy beverage he was trying to suck down. The best he could do was a small sip. "Don't pull that on me. I've seen it all." Weasel shook his head. "You're one lucky cuss. You know that?" He touched Kirk's forehead, his eyes closing for a moment. Kirk felt the hot, dizzy feeling recede. "He poisoned me?" "Sort of. But only because you resisted." Weasel pulled a chair closer and sat watching Kirk. "It was a combination of spell and some kind of decoction. You'd feel fine if you did what he wanted. The more you resist, the worse you feel. Did he give you anything to eat or drink?" "Scotch. Tasted horrible. I didn't drink much more than a sip." He smiled. "Good thing I didn't." Weasel nodded. "It's not what saved you, though." "No?" "No. The Scotch was just to anchor the spell. The magic that was linked to it is far stronger than whatever he put in the booze." He shook his head as Kirk took another sip of the herbal mix. "Sips do you no good with that. Finish it." Kirk gagged it down and handed the glass back. He was afraid he'd throw up again, but a moment later he began to feel better. He leaned forward, resting his head on his hands. "What kind of spell?" "Influence and desire. He make you some kind of offer recently?" Kirk nodded. "My heart's desire. Or two out of three, anyway." Kirk laughed. Would he have been able to resist if Nogura had thrown in the Enterprise? "He wasn't counting on you being able to resist him." Kirk nodded tiredly. "I doubt he'll try this kind of attack again. But he might go more overt. Throw in the third thing, if it's in his power. Is it?" "Oh, yes." Kirk laughed, felt slightly giddy. "How come I could resist him?" "Because you've got the kind of power most sorcerers only dream of, even if you don't know how to use it yet." "I'm learning," Kirk said quickly. "Yeah, Mac. Yeah you are." Weasel lifted his head, checked his forehead again. "It also didn't hurt that you've got a crapload of slayer energy inside you. You want to explain that to me?" "My slayer friend and I did a little spell." Weasel laughed. "A little spell? This is major tantric energy roaming up your spine, bud. You must be horny as hell. So must she." Weasel leaned in. "Next time release it." "We can't do that." Weasel rolled his eyes. "I mean the energy, you numbskull. Ground it. Give it back to the Earth. Haven't I taught you anything?" He narrowed his eyes. "I've never had a slayer that way, most of them are pretty leery of letting down that much, letting someone in to touch the source of them." He began to smirk. "Was it good?" "Oh my god, yes." Kirk tried not to grin too widely. "Now, I'm jealous." He stood up. "Work is out. You need to rest for an hour at least." "I didn't know the Scotch was bad until I drank it, Weasel. Shouldn't I have known?" The other man sighed. "It was probably shielded. Your boy Nogura is one hell of a powerful mage." "But you would have known?" Weasel nodded. "Yeah, I would have. It's not easy. Takes time. You have to look deep. Look with something primitive inside you that knows good and bad from feel and not from being taught." "I can learn to do that?" "You already know how. You just don't know it yet." Weasel smiled. "You rest. I'll come wake you when it's time to go." "Weasel?" "Yeah?" "Thanks." The other man nodded. "Don't mention it." He headed up the stairs. "Aren't you off work?" Weasel turned to look at him. "Yeah. I'll just be upstairs." Kirk could feel his eyes closing. "Don't you ever leave the motel?" "Get some rest, Jim." It wasn't an answer. Kirk tried to say something else, but a peaceful and softly welcoming blackness claimed him. End part 5 of 6 -- Stephen Ratliff ASC Stories Only Forwarding In the Pattern Buffer at: http//trekiverse.crosswinds.net/feed/ ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek .creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! Groups Links To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Tue Mar 02 10:22:36 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n13.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.68]) by sparrow (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1aYbFo6OE3NZFjV0 for ; Tue, 2 Mar 2004 07:18:42 -0800 (PST) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13247-1078240624-stephenbratliffasc=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yah