Double Helix 03_ Red Sector - Diane Carey [17]
He shifted this way and that, but there was no room for movement. He was denied even that pitiful comfort and was forced to sit here and look back.
“Sir,” he began again, “never mind about my family. Don’t tell them anything. Just tell them I’m… not around anymore.”
There was a brief silence, heavy and notable, like the pause between movements of a symphony. The baton remained in the air, the audience didn’t applaud, the instruments were up.
“I shall tell them you performed your duty most admirably, young man,” Spock slowly promised. “You rose to an unforeseen challenge.”
A mirthless chuckle broke from Stiles’s chest. More charity. Good words for a pathetic slob, so he wouldn’t feel so pathetic. Too late.
“Rose to it? I caused it. It was only unforeseen because I didn’t foresee it.” He shivered deeply, to his bones. “Don’t bother with my family. Starfleet’ll send them the official report. Don’t tell them anything else… they won’t be impressed. This story isn’t that good. Doing duty’s not enough for them. I’d be better off just lost at sea. No stories.”
“Ensign,” Spock began again, “you needn’t cheat yourself You fit into an age-old tapestry of military valor. Even the small deeds are knightly.”
“Oh, please, sir, I’ve heard that since I was six. We take an oath… we wear uniforms… we take action… when there’s trouble, we go toward it instead of away from it. We’re military. Can’t argue with that. It’s got to mean something. if it means I stay here, then that’s what it means.”
A mechanical whine, muffled by the snow, found its way down to him. Drilling. Or cutting, maybe. He must be trapped under rocks or-were there trees up this high? He hadn’t bothered looking.
His cold face cracked with a sorry smile as he reviewed the last few seconds. “I hope the other guys can’t hear you talking to me this way.” Spock’s voice crackled. Growing more faint. Distant. “I sent Ensign Perraton to tend to the passengers. I have no need of a navigator. We are quite alone.”
Overhead, the scratching sound was louder now, more deliberate. The diggers weren’t searching anymore. They were purposefully digging. They’d pinpointed this spot. Maybe a fin or wing was sticking out of the snow. Or maybe they had sensors that had caught him. They’d sure found him fast. Things sure could change suddenly.
Stiles let his head fall against the high seat back. “So… how’d you know I wanted to be alone? All my life I’ve heard how Vulcans don’t have intuition… y’know, no… hunches. No emotional anchors, like us fallibles do.” “And you have believed the stories,” Spock said.
Stiles touched a swelling on the side of his head and laughed minimally. “Oh, you’re making fun of me now.”
“With you, Ensign,” the ambassador offered gently, “not of you.” “Everybody always says Vulcans can’t joke.” “Of course not. Nor do we love, fear, lie, or doubt.”
Stiles laughed again. Strange that he could laugh… strange that this particular person could make him feel better when none of his friends had been able to.
The shovels, diggers, drills… getting closer now. Something scratched the nose of the Frog. Stiles saw a finger of golden sunlight appear in front of his left knee. They were almost here. In minutes, he’d be in the hands of the enemy. Would they kill him?
They had a lot of options. He had none. Here he was, trapped in his capsule, probably about to die, and even though his mission was successful, he crashed because of his own lack of foresight. His family was going to be disappointed in him… all those commanders, captains, lieutenants, heroes of the Romulan Wars-and one kid who never made it past ensign because he made a mistake on hits first mission and got himself shot down.
He’d blown it. Allowed himself to be distracted. Put all his fighters behind him and figured nobody would think