Work Text:
In memory of a great friend
Bright
***
Methos dragged in a breath, and then another, until he was able to control his breathing and stop himself from hyper-ventilating. A sound to his left drew his attention; he found MacLeod doing the same thing. It took him a moment but Methos was able to pull his aching body into an almost sitting position; the ceiling of the room they were in was too low for much more. MacLeod had a slightly shorter torso so he was able to sit up with just a bit of a hunch to his back.
Methos managed to ask, “What happened?”
“I remember the earthquake,” MacLeod shook his head, “and that’s it.”
Methos rolled his neck as best as he could, groaning as the stiffness eased. “I was hoping you’d remember more.”
“Sorry, old man.”
Methos listened to the sounds around him, but they were few and far between. Having worked more than one rescue operation over the years, he didn’t like the lack of sound. “Mac, I don’t like this. It’s too quiet for a rescue operation. There’s nothing going on out there.”
Duncan went still, “How long do you think we’ve been here?”
He could only shake his head.
Duncan could see some light, so he carefully shifted towards it. He knew what Methos meant, there were no shouts for aid, no beeps or no growls of heavy equipment moving. For that matter; there weren’t even any birdcalls.
Duncan pushed at the soil gently, trying to avoid them being trapped in the chamber again. Surprisingly, the entire face fell away neatly, leaving them with plenty of room to maneuver. Duncan looked over his shoulder; Methos just shrugged. He’d been entombed before, but that was thousands of years ago, and for only about three days, while The Horsemen worked to dig him out. It had always surprised him that Kronos had bothered. That was, until Methos would remember he’d been working on a plan to sack a fairly large settlement.
Both men struggled out of the cavern, using one another as a crutch. They managed to get out and a few feet away before their strength failed them and they fell to the ground. Again, with nothing but a quick look, they agreed to just lean against the trees for a bit.
“I don’t remember being this tired the last time this happened,” Methos said, no real emotion to the words, just a statement of fact.
“Wait, you’ve been caught in a cave-in before?” Duncan asked aloud, while asking himself how he hadn’t known that already.
Methos shrugged, “Not a cave. It was during …” he paused trying to decide how to talk about that time. They had come to an understanding and an agreement not to “talk” about it, but he could mention it, in passing, so to speak.
“When you were with the Horsemen,” Duncan finished.
Methos nodded, “Honestly, I was mildly surprised when I woke up. It took them three days to get me out.”
Duncan shook his head; he was just as surprised now as Methos had been then. His brothers weren’t known for their compassion, especially not with each other.
Both men’s head snapped to the left when they heard the twig snap nearby. Neither had felt the other immortal. They were both too tired, they wouldn’t stand a chance against anyone right now.
“Hello, boys.” A man came into view.
Duncan guessed the man to be about six feet tall with a stocky build. He wore clothes that looked a little bit out of place, and Duncan’s stomach clenched. How long had they been in there? “Hello,” he replied.
Methos just nodded his greeting.
“You are Duncan MacLeod and Methos. Cassandra said you’d pop up about now.”
Methos went still at the mention of both names. Cassandra had never been on his side, and if this man knew Cassandra and his true name, it probably wasn’t going to be good.
The man held his hands up in the universal sign of peace. “I mean you no harm. For a change, the woman wanted nothing but your health.”
Methos snorted. That would be the day.
“No, it’s true. Told me herself before I took her head.”
Both men went still again, studying the man before them. He didn’t look like someone who could take out the old seeress. His brown eyes were warm and soft, nothing in them could lay claim to the sort of cunning and ruthless abilities it would have taken to get the upper hand to kill her.
He saw their disbelief and answered the unasked question, “No, no, she asked me to. There was no fight. It nearly killed me to do it. But she was tired. She wanted it to be done. But she didn’t want her strength to go to some power crazed hunter.” The man knelt down near MacLeod, but still remained out of reach. “The world has changed more than you can guess.” He looked right at Methos. “Even you.”
“What year is it?” He asked, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer.
The stocky man sighed, just a bit, “I’ll answer that in a second. I want you to know one thing, before anything else, The Game?” He waited for both men to nod before going on, “It was all shit. There is no end. New immortals keep popping up. There’s an active census now. There is always about 40 of us. Sometime ago, we were discovered, and a test was devised to figure out who might become one. Back when we thought we were supposed to rule the world. Turns out if the number of immortals walking around falls below 25, new pre-immortals are made.”
Duncan’s eyes grew big as he looked to Methos. All the deaths over the centuries were meaningless? How could that be? Methos shook his head then let it fall back against the tree truck holding him up. “So what year is it?”
“2233, and the biggest news of the week is that one of our ships was just attacked and destroyed, out of a 1000, 827 people survived.”
Methos cringed, war still existed even while Death slept. “And what country is taking the blame for that? Anyone or anything we would recognize?”
The man smiled a soft sad smile, “No, nothing you’d know. Mostly because it happened several hundred light years away.”
Again, both men’s attention snapped back towards the man kneeling. “We made it past Mars?” Duncan asked for confirmation.
He nodded, “Hundred years or so ago. I was glad to see it, though I wasn’t exactly glad to live through World War III and the Eugenics wars, but out of that came a peace none of us have ever seen.” With a head nod to Methos, he continued. “A peace that has lasted since the Vulcan’s found us in 2063.” He let the statement hang, he was waiting for the inevitable laughter and the flash of humor. He was one of 43 people who understood how absurd what he’d just said really was. The American film industry as an oracle, was and still is laughable, but they had done it, *twice*.
It was the 5000-year-old immortal who gave him the look, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He smiled and shook his head no, “I’m not. It happened almost exactly like that old Star Trek movie. And here’s one better, did you watch the last episode of Enterprise with that Bacula guy, before you came out here scouting?”
Methos nodded, something about Vulcans crashing and being stuck on earth in the 1950’s. “Will you stop pulling my leg, after 5000 years, it doesn’t necessarily go back anymore.”
The man just shrugged, “Was confirmed about a 100 years ago.”
Duncan was at a loss; he’d never really kept up with any of the sci-fi shows. He knew Enterprise was a tv show that had to do with the Star Trek movies, in a kind of prequel way. Richie had been a bit of a fan and he’d sat through a few episodes of the original series and one of the movies. Something about time travel and whales. “So, we’ve been trapped for 230 years. You’ve known where we were since you killed Cassandra and no one bothered to dig us out?” Duncan asked, “Or did Cassandra just let you take her head before we woke up?”
“She asked me 150 years ago, I’ve stood watch over this section of land ever since.” He stood up and held a hand out to Duncan, who was closer, “Come on, I have clean clothes and good coffee and even better booze. You’ve been out here long enough.”
“Are you ever going to tell us your name?”
He smiled again, “When you asked for it. Charles Howard, born 1929, Bakersfield, California, died 1974. Served a couple tours in Iran, the first time, again in Iraq, and Afghanistan, and other places you boys don’t know to ask about.”
Duncan reached out and took the man’s hand. He felt a little too trusting, but he didn’t have much of a choice. If even one thing the man had said was true, they were well and truly out of their element.
Methos allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, but put a hand on the tree behind him once he was up again.
Charles nodded at the unasked question, “Yeah I’ve got food too. Come on, I’ve got a date tonight, and I don’t want to be late. I was sort of hoping you two would wait ’till tomorrow to show up. Jo Anne’s agreed to go white water rafting with me. I haven't done that since 2019.” If the two men heard the catch in his voice, at the mention of Jo Anne, neither mentioned it.
All three men were quiet on the short hike down the hill to a cabin that stood next to a gate and a tower of rocks. “I should tell you that you both have a bit of a myth going about you… couple actually. The first being that you had a lover’s quarrel, argued, killed each other, and the universe was so mad, it trapped you in there ’till you could be trusted to not do it again.”
Methos chuckled, lover’s quarrel, where did people come up with these things?
Charles kept going, “The second, that even though things were getting better, you two couldn’t stand not being together, so you came up here and buried yourselves until you could be together with no limitations.”
It was Duncan’s turn to snort at that.
Still the man continued, “Or the one where you were both bored with The Game and came up here to hide out for a bit and then the earthquake hit.”
“The last is closer to the truth, but still wildly wrong,” Duncan stopped him before another asinine myth could be laid out.
“I know, Cassandra told me you were looking for an old Native shaman site you thought you remembered. You’re about 50 miles off, sorry to say and it was found about 20 years after the earthquake. It didn’t have any of the things you were looking for. An ancestor had had them all moved long before the white man came to clean it out.”
“Damn.”
Charles opened the door to the small house and let the men in, stepping aside so that they could see the interior. He didn’t think it looked much different from what they would remember; however, life had changed slowly for him. He might not remember it as well as he thought he did.
Neither of them seemed startled by anything. Perhaps knowledge that 230 years had passed was enough. Charles nodded towards the living room before heading towards his kitchen, he asked the computer, quietly, to make two cups of coffee and some light snacks. He knew better than to let the pair eat their fill on the first meal.
While the replicator made the light lunch, Charles walked to a loose board in the floor and popped it up. He pulled out a small box and set it before Duncan, then he pulled another one and replaced the board. He set that one before Methos. “These are from Cassandra. She wasn’t certain you would take my word for everything, so she left you each something to verify my story. Something each of you would know but I would not, even with her Quickening. Those boxes are locked to your specific genetics. I couldn’t break into them with C-4,” Charles used the ancient plastic explosives name. He left them to get the food and to give them a few minutes to contemplate his words.
Methos knew the box, knew that the box itself was the verification Charles had mentioned. He picked it up and held it. It was the one gift he’d given Cassandra all those centuries ago that had been a true gift. Nothing was taken for it and nothing was expected for it. He had simply thought she would like the pattern the artisan had carved into it. Over the millennia the color of the box had changed. Dirt and pollution covering it, only to be cleaned away and more added in its place. The wood had once been blindingly pale yellow. Now with its patina, it was nearly black. He ran his hand over the carving, remembering how deep the groves had once been. The lid popped open when his thumb passed the silver band that had been added since he’d last seen the gift.
Inside was a roll of parchment, carefully he pulled it free and opened it. This was at least 150 years old; he was afraid the grime on his hands would have it falling apart.
“It’s been treated with a protective spray. Chemist patented it just before Cassandra wrote it. It protects it from the oils on our skin and from contaminants in the air,” Charles explained as he set the small lunch down. The tray of small sandwiches, crackers and fruits was quickly emptied, both men understanding that they needed to build up to eating heartily.
Methos laid the paper out flat on the table and set the edge of the tray on the top to hold it open. He gasped as he looked at the writing. He honestly couldn’t say the last time he’d seen it. It was the first language he could remember learning to read.
“Methos?” Duncan asked softly. He wasn’t sure if it was the scroll that had caused the reaction or something it said.
“It’s written in the first langue I learned to read. Only Cassandra could or would know it.”
Duncan swallowed, that would be pretty strong evidence towards Charles’s claim. Duncan looked down at his own box and trying to keep his own gasp from exploding. It was an antique he had given to Richie. No one knew he’d given it to his long dead student but Richie. After his Dark Quickening, he had taken everything of Richie’s and put in a storage unit with a 100-year lease. He supposed all of his things had been treated as abandoned and scattered across the Earth. Or even the universe if they were traveling out into space.
Much like Methos, when he ran his thumb over the silver band the box opened. In it he had his own scroll. He pulled it free and began reading it. It was in original Scottish Gaelic, something he hadn’t learned to read until long after his first death. Even a chieftain would have had little reason to read when he had scribes for that.
Duncan,
I know this letter will find you confused and lost in time.I would say that I am sorry, but you would know it was a lie. You chose your companion. I will admit to some revenge for the various rumors I started about your disappearance.
In Richard’s box you fill find identification and other credentials you will need to exist in this time. While I will have been gone for some time, I know they will continue to hold up.
I took the liberty of continuing your lease agreements while you slept, and will have Charles continue them until you wake. I have begrudgingly done the same for your companion.
I do want you to know that Joe Dawson lived a very long and full life. He never stopped looking for you or him. He came to me more than once for help. But I knew I could not help, even though his soul called for me too. In the end, I could only give him a glimpse of what you would be able to do in this new future. It was a small comfort, but he finally understood.
You would be pleased to know he found love, married, and had a child, who at this letter has fifteen great-great grandchildren. All of them bearing some version of your names. I am sure that when you read this in another 100 years there will be even more of them.
Please be safe in this new world. And know that Charles was not lying when he talks of The Game being a sham. None of the remaining elders know who began the myth, but now after nearly 60 centuries, I have found it to be a credible statement.
Keep each other alive.
Cassandra
Duncan sat back against the very comfortable couch and re-read the part about his friend. Joe, in love, and he missed it. He missed being the best man at his wedding, seeing him smile and cry. He had missed his friend seeing his child born, his grandchildren, if he had lived that long. He had missed all of those wonderful moments. He let the scroll slip shut and set it on the table. He looked back into the box and found an odd card with his picture on it. Along with several little chips. He guessed they were some sort of newer version of the memory cards he’d seen and used before.
He looked to Methos and found his friend still reading. The writing was much smaller than on his own scroll, and the scroll seemed to be much longer. He wondered what Cassandra had had to say to her old Master.
Ten minutes later, Methos sat back just as Duncan had. But where Duncan had done it with heavy heart, Methos seemed to have lost a few hundred years, and a bit of the load he had always carried.
“What did she have to say?” Duncan asked quietly.
“In the end, that she forgave me. The writing … it starts and stops several times. I think it took her a long time to be able to finish it.”
“Seven years.”
Methos was amazed that it had been written at all. “She learned to accept what had happened between us, between the Horsemen and her. That she would never forgive them because in the end they never would have tried to learn to understand; I was at least trying. She mentioned all the history she had corrected after our existence had come to light - how they had all straighten out timelines and misconceptions. Languages thought lost where resurrected; much like us. She even told me she kept our things safe from being looted by time. She mentions a few immortals who aren’t exactly happy with the new version of our existence. Something about too many warriors being immortals over historians for it to be true…” Methos trailed off; he had been both many times.
“She’s not wrong there. There are five that I know of, who continually argue that we are meant to rule the galaxy now that we can travel, or at the very least the solar system. There were a few more, but with our existence came the knowledge of how to keep us dead. All the races we deal with know how to kill us, because more than one of us have tried to take at least one of them out,” Charles growled that last bit out. He’d fought in countless wars, always on the side of acceptance, and it pissed him off to see people try and drag humanity backwards.
“So, the Game exists, just for different reasons?” Duncan asked.
“More or less. There are just fewer random deaths. Laws keep the mortals from outright killing those who disagree with the new version. But they do nothing if we take each other out.”
“How did this all come about?” Methos asked. Cassandra had written many things, how The Game had changed, was not one of them.
Charles leaned forward and let his arms rest on his knees. “It was because of you. Cassandra had a vision the day you two became trapped. It was a vision she had over and over again until she nearly went mad from it.”
Methos let out a full laugh, “Cassandra has never been sane, she’s always been mad.”
“Then you know what I mean.”
He sat up very straight, Cassandra, even more unhinged than she was when they took her, even more deranged than when he’d set her free, even more crazy than when he’d killed Sails? Was that even possible?
“Cassandra went to the man who had come up with the test; he was immortal himself. He’d wanted to test what? to see if they could see who was a pre-immortal. Mostly just to see if he could figure it out. She dragged him before the UN with a prediction of what was to happen the next day as proof of her vision. When the first bomb happened, the UN and the world paid attention. Then she showed them all what we are. There was the usual outcry of demons and so on. You’ve heard and lived them all. A few of us offered to be the guinea pigs the mortals needed, with others to keep watch for us. Each GP had three immortals as guards; all but one still lives. And that was the most tragic accident in immortal history. Sanders was decapitated in a car accident. Wasn’t even something that someone could have rigged.”
The duo shuddered, others had died in freak accidents, but it was so rare.
Charles then continued to fill them in on bits of history, the changes that had happened. Then he sent them each to their rooms. Rooms that had been made up for 200 years. He left them with clothes and tablets to catch up with and left for his date, with a woman who was a dead ringer for the only mortal he’d ever married. Even had her name, Jo Anne.
***
Bright
Shining
***
Enterprise 2258
Sulu looked at the two new Commanders shaking his head. He’d heard about them long before he’d ever met them. One was just shy of six thousand years old; the other close to, but not quite, a thousand years old. It was insane. But it seemed that with them being here, in this time, had stopped some pretty insane things from happening.
Because they were here, they had been able to stand up to Nero during his attempt to destroy Vulcan. Because apparently that was something Nero had the capability to do. Because they had leapfrogged through time, the men had been able to destroy Nero’s ship before it ever left Klingon space and reached Vulcan. Six billion people and trillions of flora and fauna had been saved.
Then they had refused all accolades, kudos, awards, rewards, and any sort of acknowledgment of any kind for their deeds. Asking only to serve on the Enterprise when it was all over and the figurative dust had settled. Something about having lived during a time when the ship’s name had meant a type of peace that neither man had ever envisioned truly existing.
But now that he had met them, he could see something was wrong with them. They seemed…twitchy - that was the only word he could come up with.
“Sirs, is there something I can help you with?”
Sulu knew it was the younger of the two who answered him, the think accent sounding both similar but not at all like Scotty’s, “No, just waiting for the Captain.”
“Pardon me sir, but you seem… anxious,” he tried again.
Commander Methos half chuckled, half sighed, “I told you they’d pick up on if you didn’t get used to it.”
Commander MacLeod didn’t bother with a half sigh, he let out a full pent-up sigh, “I canna help it.”
“Duncan it's been nearly thirty years.”
“So?”
Even Sulu could tell after all of five minutes of knowing that man that said ‘so’ had actually meant ‘Are you really that stupid?’
Methos laughed at his friend, “Give it up, old man.”
“Ack, who are you calling old?”
“You, adjust already.”
Duncan huffed and dropped into a nearby chair.
“Ignore the infant, he’s just missing his katana.”
“AM I AN OLD MAN OR AN INFANT; I CANNA BE BOTH!” Duncan shouted, but with very little heat.
And that was what the Captain walked in too. “Well, I can see you can speak your mind quite well, Commander MacLeod.”
Duncan snapped to with a smart salute when he heard the man. ‘Damn the first thing the Captain had heard him do was complaining.’
“Don’t worry, my second and my CMO go at each other the same way. Joined at the hip those two.” Christopher Pike watched the two Commanders stand next to each other and understood every warning he’d been given about accepting the pair on board. They were going to be a handful, but he knew MacLeod would be one of the best Security Chiefs he could ever want, and having a linguist of Methos’ skills would be invaluable. “It’s a pleasure to meet both of you, and thank you for requesting to serve on my ship. I was afraid for a bit you might ask for it outright, a request I’m told Star Fleet would have honored.”
***
“Captain Pike, having only been in your time for twenty-five years is not enough to completely understand everything well enough to ask for such a thing.”
“Commander Methos, if I didn’t know that brown eyes were not an indicator of one being full of shit, I’d point it out. You two are so up to date on everything you could probably run all of the Federation.”
“No thank you, sir. The xenolinguist’s department will suffice.”
“Aye and the security division is just right for me.”
The rest of the command team came in and Sulu watched the reactions the pair had toward Commander Spock and Lieutenant Kirk. It was interesting to say the least. Both men were known to be pre-immortals.
Spock, being the first non-human was something to take notice of, especially since the geneticists that had created the egg he grew from had not included the rare immortal gene in their creation. They hypothesized that a Vulcan lived long enough; however, during the standard medical tests that all cadets went through, the gene that had been present. Campus medical had retested Cadet Spock repeatedly. The staff even sent him off campus to ensure there was no contamination. The results remained the same, Spock was a pre-immortal.
A count had been demanded when the new alien pre-immortal had been found, but there were still 43, including the two now on board. The number of pre-immortals often changed, but Spock being half-human had worried some people.
Kirk being a pre-immortal was also a bit of a quandary. According to all records he’d died when he was three minutes old. At the exact same time his father had died. The medical team brought him back, and like Spock, upon entering Star Fleet was found to be a pre-immortal.
Sulu knew the ship was littered with pre’s. It made him a little anxious about what the universe was going to throw at them. He watched both men go still and look around, both stopping at the pair to their right. Kirk just gave the smirk he always gave when someone stared at him. Spock raised one eyebrow and shook his head twice before sitting down in his usual spot.
Sulu took that moment to slip out of the briefing room. He wasn’t needed, or even wanted. He had only been the Commanders’ guide. And that gave him plenty of time to come up with Welcome Aboard gifts for the men.
He slid into his quarters and grabbed his PADD. He loaded up the database he needed and called up the specs of the two swords. He grinned to himself; he hoped he wasn’t over stepping but he knew how much his fencing sword meant to him. To be separated from it … and if his head was literally riding on it, he’d be little unnerved as well.
He knew the best place to have them printed was in engineering. They got all the good materials, for damned good reasons. He found Scotty and tipped his head to the man’s office.
“Lieutenant, what can I do for you?”
“Not me, per say, the new commanders.”
“Aye, what do they need, they just got on board?” Scotty asked, a little baffled.
“I know, but Commander MacLeod, is missing something very important.” Sulu turned the PADD around and showed the Scot what he meant.
“HE LEFT IT BEHIND?!”
“I doubt it, Commander Methos may have implied that they stopped carrying them. But it hasn’t set well with Commander MacLeod.”
“I bet not. We Scots are very territorial about that sorta thing.”
“I can guess. I know the regs allow any Immortal to carry one, but theirs are not exactly compatible with the uniforms.”
“So, you want to create the retractable ones for them.”
Sulu shrugged, “I thought it might be a nice Welcome Aboard gift.”
“I agree, come on CNC 3 is the best for this. It does wonders with the small details.”
Sulu smiled; he knew Scotty would know best. “Thank you, Commander.”
“Ach think nothing of it, laddie,” Scotty chuckled to himself, “think he’d tell me about Scotland before?”
“Hm, maybe. It’ll either be wonderful to talk to someone who knows the areas, or be painful because of how much it changed between his time and yours.”
“Suppose it’d be the latter. Wouldn’t hurt to ask though.” Both men turned to the sound of tool hitting the deck and Scotty shouted, “GET DOWN FROM THERE!”
Sulu chuckled, Keenser was in hot water again.
***
Bright
Shining
Warm
***
Duncan dropped onto his couch and groaned, Methos did the same thing in the chair next to it. “Why did we decide this was a good idea?”
Methos dropped his head back, stretching his long neck out and letting the weight of it pull on a few kinks. “Because there are fifteen pre-immortals serving on this ship and we wanted to know why?”
“Oh right, that.”
“Who thought it was good idea to let fifteen serve together. That’s just asking for the universe to mess with them.”
“Mhhmm,” Duncan sort of nodded in agreement.
“And did I miss the part where Pike was listed?”
Duncan almost laughed, Methos had a near perfect memory, “No you didn’t, he wasn’t listed.”
“Am I crazy then?”
“No, Methos you’re not any crazier than you usually are. I think there are a lot more on this ship than Star Fleet’s test has confirmed and no,” Duncan added before his friend could ask, “I do not like it.”
Methos sighed, running a hand over his face, “Damn it, I was hoping it was just my old age.”
“Sorry Old Man, I’m the infant and I knew it.”
“Nek tchew a-a!”
“Hey now, none of that thank you very much,” Duncan snapped, “we’ve talked about your proclivity of swearing in ancient Egyptian.”
Methos growled at the Highlander, “It’s worst thing I can think of to say.”
“Well, keep your donkey fucking to your own quarters please. It will scare the sheep.”
Methos snorted, the chuckled and then just outright laughed. Leave it to MacLeod to bring up sheep in place of donkeys.
MacLeod let the sound of his friend’s laughter warm him; it had been too long since he’d heard it.
“I hate you sometimes,” Methos offered up when he was able to breathe again.
“No, you don’t, you just mildly loathe me from time to time.”
“That too,” Methos was interrupted from complaining more by the door chime.
Duncan groaned but sat up and called for whoever it was to enter, Methos sat up a little straighter. It was the young lieutenant who had shown them to the briefing room before the meeting, another of the damn pre-immortals. Yet another one Star Fleet didn’t have listed.
“Sirs, I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“No, Sulu, you’re fine. What can we do for you?”
Sulu turned and grabbed a red shirt sleeve from the corridor and dragged the body in the sleeve into the room. “This is Commander Scott, and we have a something of a Welcome Aboard present and a request to go with the presents.” He lifted the top box up and handed it to the Scot and then the second box and handed it to the other. Both men glanced at each other, shrugged and opened the boxes.
“Oh, my gods…” Methos whispered.
“How did you…?” Duncan looked at the case on the coffee table in front of them flipped it open, but there in its protective case was his katana, the stasis field keeping it safe.
“I realized what was bothering you earlier sir. You are allowed by regulations to carry your sword, but I understand it would get in the way a good deal of the time.” Sulu carefully pulled his from the holster at his back, telegraphing his moves to the two warriors. He pressed the release and let the blade unfold, “I thought this might make you feel a bit more comfortable.”
Methos held still but saw Duncan flinch just a bit towards his weapon. He was the Head of Security after all and had served in many armies long after Methos had stopped.
Sulu continued, “As for the request, please spar with me?”
Methos laughed, “Oh child, you know not what you ask.”
He bit down on the reaction to point out he was almost thirty, but that would be stupid. The man was almost six thousand years old, of course he was a child to him.
Duncan looked back to the box, he picked up the handle that he knew better than his own hand, it felt nearly the same. But the weight of the handle was wrong. He frowned.
“Press on the leaves just below the tsuba.”
Duncan moved the swords away from himself and pressed down. The weight shifted and suddenly there was a blade. Where his was smooth, he could see the lines where it made it possible to retract in this one.
“It is stronger than your blade, despite what could be considered weak points. I understand it doesn’t have the history of your katana, but I thought the familiarity would win you over.” Sulu’s smile was small but knowing.
Methos finally gave in, he picked up the sword pressed the rosette closest to the blade and was rewarded with the soft snick of metal moving. When it was fully extended, he knew it would be perfectly accurate to the microgram. “Thank you, Lieutenant. This is very thoughtful.”
“Sirs, I realizes I would be a poor partner after all your centuries of experience but still,” Sulu let his words trail off. If they said no, that would be the end of it. He wouldn’t hound them.
Methos looked to Duncan, who shrugged, “Ti nomízeis óti o géros?” (What do you think Old man?)
“Loipón, teleiósate me ta próvatá sas?” (Well, are you done with your sheep?)
“Ta próvatá mou, ti gínetai me to gáidaró sas?” (My sheep, what about your donkey?)
Methos laughed, he stood pressing the rosette again, watching the blade disappear. Switching to Japanese, Methos said, “Rīdo suru.” (Lead on.)
Sulu was surprised but honored. He answered in kind, bowing low, “Kōsu no, sā.” (Of course, sir.)
Scotty, not allowing the three to outdo him threw out, “Is dòcha nach eil sinn a ’bruidhinn Seann Ghreugais, ach tha na faclan airson caoraich is asail air fuireach mar an ceudna, a dhaoine uaisle.” (We may not speak Ancient Greek, however the words for sheep and donkey have not changed all that much, gentlemen.) “Nor have the references to both animals.”
Both immortals stopped, then laughed hard.
***
Bright
Shining
Warm
Bright
***
Duncan sat back in his chair, his plate empty and the glass almost so. He looked to Methos; the man was all but licking his plate. “There is more you know.”
Methos looked up, his grin widening, “I didn’t, but I do now. I always knew you were holding out on me.”
Duncan shook his head, he grabbed the man’s plate and filled it with the new dish Uhura had told him about. Some Andorian thing that had Methos’ manners all but evaporating.
It took a third plate before Methos fully returned and Death left the ship. It was the only way Duncan could keep the man’s personalities straight. He had Adam, the academic, Benjamin, the physician, Methos, the historian and Death, the ultimate warrior. Duncan had secured permission from all of Command to bring him on every away mission, and not simply for his linguistic abilities.
He groaned when his comm chimed. Being a department head meant he had rarely had uninterrupted personal time. “MacLeod.”
The sound of the very young but extremely capable Ensign Chekov filled the room, “Commander MacLeod, the Keptin is requesting your presence in Transporter Room 5. He says to bring Commander Methos as well.”
Duncan was about to respond when he heard the captain snap, “TELL HIM THE REST!”
“He also says to tell you this is a situation of your own making and he will not be responsible for it.”
Methos looked to Duncan who only shrugged, the pair got up and headed towards TR 5.
Once Duncan stepped into the room he had to duck as a shoe flew at his head, because he ducked it hit Methos square in the chest. Then the other shoe flew, and since he was looking at the shoe print in the middle of Methos’ uniform shirt he got this one in the side of the head. He swung around and saw someone he never expected to see.
“AMANDA!”
“DON’T YOU DARE AMANDA ME, DUNCAN MACLEOD, OF THE CLAN MACLEOD. TWENTY-SIX YEARS! TWENTY SIX YEARS! I REALIZE POSTCARDS DON’T EXIST ANYMORE BUT COMM CHANNELS DO!”
Somehow another shoe appeared and Duncan moved out of its way. He came upon the young Chekov and stepped behind him. “Amanda, I didn’t have your number,” the smile on his face showed he didn’t think she would throw something at him, knowing she might hit the young man.
He was wrong and had to catch himself on the wall behind him when the comm unit hit him dead center, cracking his nose. “Damn it, Amanda, that hurts.”
“I KNOW!”
He responded quick enough to the sound of a sword being pulled from a scabbard. “Oh no, you don’t!”
Amanda glared and took two steps towards the Highlander out of time, three people stepped between them. She glared at them but none of them moved. “Children, leave this to the adults. I’m not going to kill him-kill him, I’m just going to KILL HIM! I’m not stupid enough to take a head on a ship.”
Methos watched the pair, Amanda was always so entertaining when she was after MacLeod’s hide.
Without looking away, Amanda transferred her sword to her offhand, still pointing it directly at MacLeod, and pointed unerringly at Methos. “AND DON’T THINK FOR ONE MINTUE THAT YOU’RE NOT NEXT METHOS.”
“Miss, I do have to insist that you stop threatening my crew.”
Amanda looked at the man with Captain’s stripes and laughed, “Mommy and Daddy are talking here, dear, do run along,” she said in her most condescending tone, “and take the other children with you.”
Duncan wiped the blood from his broken nose off on his uniform, then stalked over to Amanda, fire in his eyes. “Enough is enough, you will not speak to him that way. We’ve had people looking for you for years. You weren’t in Federation space, using any name either of us knew. It’s a little harder to track someone down now. Especially if you don’t know any of THEIR CURRENT HABITS.” Duncan’s voice started out stern but at a typical volume, by the time he was done he was yelling back at Amanda, his brogue had deepened.
Amanda opened her mouth to yell back, her face red, and then she kind of deflated. Her sword dropped, and a hand went up on her hip. “Oh, I suppose you’re right.”
“OOOH!” Duncan groaned and threw his hands in the air in defeat. He turned and took a few steps before turning back to the now blue haired ex-thief. He really hoped that ex part was still correct. “What are you doing here, and how did you get here?”
“Oh, you know how I like stocking up on favors owed to me, Duncan; that will never change. A girl’s always got to look out for herself.” She sighed. Did Mac really not get that? “The what, is two of my oldest friends are free from a grave that some witch wouldn’t let anyone rescue them from.”
“Amanda,” Duncan sighed. It was either sigh or laugh, or maybe even cry … quite possibly cry while laughing, knowing Amanda.
“Duncan. And what are you doing on a ship FULL of pre-immortals? I mean really, combined it feels like I’m surrounded by a dozen well-endowed Immortals.”
Pike looked to his two Immortals and found they weren’t surprised by the question; they were very uncomfortable with it though. “Commanders? Something you want to share?”
Methos glared at Amanda, “We weren’t talking about that Amanda, dear.”
Amanda smiled that one she had that said, ‘sorry, not sorry’ that Duncan remember oh so well.
“Commanders?!”
Methos was the one two answer, “There are more than 15 pre-immortals, Sir. We hadn’t said anything because we didn’t want to be alarmists.”
“How many more?” Pike asked, his tone demanding the answer be very explicit.
“Nearly all,” Duncan offered.
“How many?”
“That we’ve been able to figure out, only six are not pre-immortals.”
Pike’s face lost all color, what the hell was going to happen to his ship?
***
Bright
Shining
Warm
Bright
Shining
***
Pike paced his office. His ship was filled with immortals, he was an immortal. He vaguely wondered how many people were about to kill themselves to stop from aging. He wouldn’t have minded doing that a few years ago.
“I understand why, but *why* didn’t you say anything? A ship full of pres? I, what, just…” Pike collapsed in on himself, and then into his chair.
“We didn’t want to influence anyone.” Duncan nodded to Methos, “we spoke about it, over the years we have both found pres and it was generally better if they didn’t know. But with the testing, and The Game being a shame… there isn’t the sort of weight behind it. But an entire ship of them?”
Methos spoke up, “Over our lifetimes, we’ve encountered pres that killed themselves or gotten themselves killed almost immediately to stop the aging process. I’ve also met people who joined one religious order or another to avoid it and die of natural causes at a very old age. There are ways around becoming an immortal, if you know it’s going to happen.”
Pike ran a tired had down his face. “What do we do?”
“We go on with our lives. Either it happens or it doesn’t,” Methos shrugged. He added,“Try to keep Chekov from doing something stupid. He will regret being 18 forever. The rest, it is up to them.”
Pike nodded.
***
Bright
Shining
Warm
Bright
Shining
Warm
***
Pike managed to keep anyone from talking about the number of pre-immortals on the Enterprise. He even managed to get young Chekov to understand an eternity at 18 was not really something the kid should want. But the knowledge weight on Pike.
Three years and nothing drastic happened. Pike lost not one crew member to a landing party or an illness. It was absolutely unheard of. There were injuries and illnesses, but none were fatal. What was scary was without knowing it, the six non-pre-immortals all asked for transfers to other stations. One asked to be moved closer to their children, another for the chance at a promotion, two left Starfleet all together. The remaining two sited a preference for working on solid ground again, having decided space wasn’t really for them.
Their replacements were 6 more pre-immortals. Pike had never reported the change of some many on his ship. In fact he’d never even had them retested to verify what his immortals had told him. He *had* typed up and deleted the report nearly ever week since Amanda Deveraux had shown up on his ship, uninvited.
The ex-thief, ex-con artist, ex-sometimes girlfriend of McLeod had left three days after her earth shattering appearance. Pike was so very glad when her finally shimmered away.
***
Bright
Shining
Warm
Bright
Shining
Warm
Bright
***
Spock looked once more at the readings. Something wasn’t right. There were several inconstancies he couldn’t explain. Fluctuations that should not be, yet other readings showed nothing out of the ordinary. He looked to his mate, when Jim turned towards him, he nodded towards his screen. Jim raised an eyebrow in question but moved to get a better look.
Jim wasn’t a science officer, but even he knew that those readings were wrong. He looked back up to Spock, both stared for a moment before shivering with dread. Both men had woken that morning feeling off. Neither could explain it, but they felt today was the day they would die.
Spock nodded once to Jim, a sad small smiles gracing his lips and a flicker of fear shown in his eyes just long enough for Jim to see it, then it was gone and Spock was clearing his throat and calling for Pike’s attention.
“Yes Commander?”
“There are several anomalies appearing to port. I have run calibrations on all sensors and rechecking the data. There appears to be nothing there according to visual records, but …”
Pike knew the list of scanners Spock was reciting would be every single one Spock could think of, not to mention Kirk. The kid was standing at Spock’s station, so they’d done their weird Vulcan bond thing. “All right Commanders. Any suggestions?”
Jim jolted upright, he hadn’t expected to be included in Spock’s confab with the captain. But he offered what he could, “Run, fast?”
Pike nodded, “Spock?”
“I agree.”
Pike looked to Sulu and Chekov, “You heard ‘em gentleman.”
“Heading sir?” Chekov asked.
Spock spoke before Pike could, “The site of the Kelvin.”
Pike’s head snapped back to the Vulcan in time to see Kirk do the same thing.
Jim’s voice was steady but the small crack in it when he asked, “Why?!”
“There remains a spacial anomaly at the location of your birth, one that could become advantages.”
Pike watched Jim turn white and swallow down whatever he was about to say, then nodded once.
Pike could see the hand slip from behind Spock’s back to slip two fingers along the edge of Kirk’s palm. For the Vulcan it was as if he had screamed ‘I will love you forever’. Pike shivered. He been afraid of this. This day, that his two immortal officers had foretold 3 years ago.
“The Kelvin site, Chekhov.”
Everyone on the bridge shivered as the lieutenant confirmed the coordinates and Sulu engaged Warp 9.
Jim moved out of the way the second Spock started to shift back to the scanners. But he already knew nothing had changed.
“Kirk, call the McLeods.”
“Aye, sir.” Jim sincerely hoped what ever was about to happen to the ship didn’t damage the Immortals. He’d come to enjoy the men’s tails and was glad to call them friends.
“Any change Spock?”
“No Sir. Sensor data remains the same.”
***
Bright
Shining
Warm
Bright
Shining
Warm
BRIGHT
SHINING
WARM
WARM
SHINING
BRIGHT
***
Spock felt the the words rush over him. He knew Jim had felt it through him. “Captain, something, it is trying to communicate.”
“Something, that’s pretty damned vague especially coming from you.”
“I understand sir, I am only just able to feel the … entity following us.”
“Well what is it trying to communicate?”
The lift doors opened before Spock could reply. Once the two Commanders had been brought up to speed Spock answered. “It is following something bright, shining, warm.”
Both immortals cursed in their predate tongues.
“Care to share with the class?” The captain all but snapped.
Duncan looked to Methos, who sighed, “That is what pre-immortals feel like to us to varying degrees. It’s easy to ignore after a few minutes. It took us a few days because we’ve never been around more than one at a time.”
***
WARM SHINING BRIGHT
SHINING WARM BRIGHT
BRIGHT SHINING WARM
***
Spock was forced to hold onto the back of his chair to keep from collapsing at the force of the thought.
“SPOCK!” Jim shouted and grabbed for his quickly slumping mate. Duncan was there quickly to help take the weight. Once Spock was set on the floor Jim reached up to tip his head back to try and see what was wrong. The moment he touched Spock’s skin, he cried out and grabbed his head.
After a moment he gasped and was able to sit up again. “It’s so loud,” he whispered. “It’s only thinking three words over and over again in varying orders.”
Methos let Kirk lean again his side as the bridge medic started to scan the pair. “Bright, shining, warm.” Kirk nodded just a little. Methos looked to his husband. They had talked about this day several times over the years. What would it do to the crew to all die the same day? What it might mean for the two of them?
McCoy scrambled through the lift doors and the medic moved out of the doctors way, flawlessly handing over the tricorder. He glanced at the readings and flipped a roll of hyposprays open grabbed one, gave it to Spock, dropped the empty cartridge and repeated the procedure with Kirk.
“Jim,” McCoy patted Kirk’s cheek until his hand got batted away.
“I wasn’t that out of it.”
“Hush infant,” the insult had the two McLeod’s smirking at each other, “I need you to use your bond and tell me if Spock is better. His readings have leveled off but I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.”
Jim licked his lips before nodding, Methos helped him lean forward and steadied him while he reached for Spock’s hand. Jim shivered but could tell the thoughts were much quieter, he could feel Spock coming back to himself. He had retreated behind all of his shields to protect himself.
“He’ll be okay in a minute.”
McCoy nodded closing up the roll but leaving it within reach. “Someone want to tell me what’s going on?”
Jim grabbed his hand getting his attention, “It’s today.”
McCoy went pale white before nodding. They all knew it was coming at some point. He just hoped everyone would be able to handle it mentally.
“Sir, Kelvin site eta 2 minutes.”
“Thank you Sulu,”
Jim blanched, he was going to die in the same place as his father. The difference was he was supposed to come back in a few minutes.
“A bit morbid don’t ya think?” McCoy snapped.
“I cho-” Spock cleared his throat before continuing, “I chose it for its lingering anomalies.”
“Welcome back elf boy.”
Spock let the name go, McCoy only used elf related insults when he was truly terrified. And the fact that Spock knew that said a great deal.
McCoy sat down on the deck, “We all know, so why are we running?”
“We do not know if the entity is following us because of what we may become, or because of what we are.”
“Spock, if I’m gonna die in the next few minutes could you please, please speak Standard.”
Jim answered instead, “We wanted it someplace it can’t chase after other vessels in case it wants to eat a bunch of people who won’t come back.”
McCoy sighed, he could understand that. Not the weirdness that existed around the Kelvin site, but that was what Spock was for.
“Captain!” Chekov shouted.
The sensor to port picked up something shimmering. Now that they had stopped Pike could see the thing was massive. If he had to guess it would measure nearly 10 kilometers across, let alone any of its mass. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Spock flinch. “Commander?” Five sets of eyes turned towards him. He sighed, “Spock?”
“The entity is broadcasting, I do not believe it knows it is, loud, as Jim described.”
“Can you communicate back? I know its not usually something you can do, but given you don’t normally hear things…” Pike trailed off, he knew Spock had to be touching someone to speak to them, but he could rarely hear the person. The only exception was Kirk *after* they had bonded.
“I will try, sir,” in another rare display Spock reached for Jim, who with help from the trio sitting around him, was moved to lean against his side.
After a few minutes Spock’s breathing sped up but Jim waved McCoy away. The entity stopped moving as Spock’s breathing settled back towards his normal rate. “All I can get is they are trying to understand each other.”
Pike hated situations like these. There was so much risk and he couldn’t do a thing to mitigate it.
Spock blinked, twice, looked at Jim than his captain. “It only understands that we are not what we can be. It thinks it’s giving us a great gift.”
Duncan and Methos looked at each other. Sometimes it could be, but other times it could be the worst curse. Methos understood that unequivocally.
Nothing else could be said. By anyone. The entity lurched forward, covering the Enterprise port to starboard, stem too stern in 3 seconds.
***
BRIGHT
SHINING
WARM
***
Everyone on board gasped out grabbing their heads as the entity spoke to all of them at once. Even Duncan and Methos weren’t spared the creatures shouts.
The ensign who had taken over for Spock had a last moment of clarity to shout out, “It’s - air supply… gone…” before they too fell to the floor.
Suffocation is never a great way to die. Duncan grabbed his husband’s hand and held it tight. It’d taken them to many years to get to this point, and he desperately wanted more.
Methos pulled Duncan to him and held tight, not knowing his thoughts matched his Highlanders, word for word.
Pike tried to keep his seat. He failed.
Sulu held a gasping Chekov and hoped to whatever deity cared to listen that they really did wake up from this.
Uhura slumped forward over the controls of her station, she had locked them out as soon as Spock had spoken.
McCoy fought as long as he could, he tried to unroll the hypo roll again, tried to think of something to stave off the rapid oxygen deprivation. But it was too late.
All over the ship people tried to comfort the person next to them, tried to find the strength to get through the next few unknowable minutes. Just because their resident immortals said they felt like pre-immortals didn’t mean they actually were immortals.
***
BRIGHT
SHINING
WARM
BRIGHT
SHINING
WARM
BRIGHT
SHINING
WARM
BRIGHT
SHINING
WARM
BRIGHT
SHINING
WARM
BRIGHT
SHINING
WARM
***
WARM
SO MUCH WARM
MMMMMMMMMM
WARM
***
If anyone had been alive to see the video of the entity, they would have seen it shimmy away, they would have thought to record the thermal changes, the lighting variances, the way it seemed to propel itself through space as if it was swimming.
However no one was alive on the Enterprise as it moved on from the bright, shining, warm things. They were no longer an oddity. They were no longer what they were, they were what they should be.
***
Charles sat on his porch with his lovely wife Jo Anne, returned to him 300 years later. He’d never been one to believe in reincarnation, but here she was sitting next to him. Her wonderfully warm hand in his, her head laid on his shoulder as they looked to the stars. And this time, well this time she sang to him like no one ever had before.
This time his Joanne was bright and shinning and warm. This time when she died, she would wake up next to him and smile that smile he’d missed for so many years.
This time his Jo Anne was a pre-immortal and he would get to keep her until they both tired of the world. This time he wouldn’t have to fake his age, his health, this time he wouldn’t have to leave her.
“Do you think it’s today?” The question was soft and full of empathy for the suffering she was asking about.
Charles could only nod. He knew that the number of immortals would be significantly higher when he woke up in the morning. “Come to bed, my bride. I need to hold you.”
She could only nod in return. Until she shrieked at being picked up, then she laughed. “I have two feet let me walk.”
Charles looked to his bride of a week. “Nope, this is just perfect.”
She could see the pain tearing up her husband, his friends where dying and he could do nothing to help them. He could do nothing but carry her to bed. So she rested her head on his shoulder again and let him take what ever strength he needed from her.
***
Spock woke first as far as he knew. He quickly checked Jim but there was nothing yet. He viscously shoved down the fear that he had returned but his mate wouldn’t.
Methos was next, Duncan and finally for Spock, Jim gasped and bolted up right and hand flailing out and latching on to Spock’s hand with perfect accuracy. Others came back but Spock didn’t care, he used his strength to pull Jim into his lap and wrap his long arms around his breathing bandmate.
Pike started to look around him only to find a set of steel blue eyes looking at him. Eyes he’d seen for years, decades even. Somehow Phillip Boyce had managed to make it to the bridge and from the looks of it, crawl to Christopher’s side. Had even managed to reach out and grasp his hand. Chris nodded and the eyes fluttered shut, a sigh of relief and contentment was the only confirmation Chris needed to understand that tonight would be more one new beginning in his life.