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The Starfleet officers put Tom on a stretcher, and tried to do the same to everyone else. Kevin hopped on without question, and Jim sat next to him, but Leonard and Spock didn’t.
“I’m not getting on that thing,” said Leonard harshly. “I can fucking walk.”
Spock didn’t say anything so brash, or really anything at all. He stared into space as the Starfleet officers said meaningless words into their communicators.
He felt himself get beamed up. He was led into a room and onto a bed, and he was given a sedative, and the world faded away, and it was over. Tarsus was over.
He slipped into sleep and grieved for the deaths of the lesser half of the population.
-----
Spock woke up slowly. For half a second he was confused as to why he was so comfortable, before he remembered what had happened.
He sat up, looking around. He was in what he assumed must be the medbay of a Starship. It was a stark, smooth white; Spock hadn’t seen such a sterile color since before the Massacre. He felt clean. He’d been changed into a new white hospital gown. The grime under his fingernails was gone. They must have put him through a sonic while he was out.
An IV was sticking out of his wrist. The biobed was beeping steadily.
The other beds in the room were empty, except for a sleeping Andorian across from him. They were probably one of the other survivors of Tarsus. They looked thin, emaciated.
Spock caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror through the open door next to the Andorian. It didn’t look like him. His hair was overgrown, longer than it had ever been, almost covering his eyebrows, brushing his ears. His face was sunken, angular, dark greenish bags under his eyes; his collarbones were visible through the hospital gown; he looked gaunt, haggard, bony, tired, starved. He looked starved.
He looked away. There were no mirrors in the forest on Tarsus.
He’d have to get a haircut as soon as he could once he arrived back on Vulcan.
Spock gazed at the needle in his arm. It must be the reason he felt better than he had in weeks.
He ripped it out, wiping away the beads of green blood that welled up where the needle had been. He had to find the others.
He stumbled out of the room, unsteady on his feet. Above the door, clinical black letters in a professional font said Alien Ward. A sign to his left directed him towards the Human ward, and he held the wall as he followed the arrows.
Jim, Kevin, and Leonard were in a room together, hooked up to IV bags, still asleep. Tom wasn’t there. Logically, he must be with doctors, perhaps under operation. Four other Human strangers, adults, slept on beds on the other side of the room. More survivors of Tarsus, Spock assumed, judging by the way their bones jutted out through the thin sickbay blankets.
Spock sat in the chair in between Jim and Leonard’s beds.
It was over.
-----
Leonard woke up first. He groaned quietly, turning his head, startling when he opened his eyes to see Spock staring at him.
“Christ!” he yelped. The sudden loud noise made Spock jump. “You scared the bejeezus out of me! What are you doing just sitting there staring??”
“Waiting,” Spock said simply. He watched Leonard look around at the still-sleeping Kevin and Jim on either side of him.
“Oh,” he said. He sat up properly, adjusting his pillows. “Well, I guess I’ll wait with you.”
They sat in relative silence, room filled with the beeping of biobeds, for one point three minutes before Leonard spoke again.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you that one time,” Leonard said. He looked pointedly away from Spock. “When I said I hated you. I didn’t mean that.”
“There is no offense where none is taken,” Spock said, quoting Surak.
Leonard didn’t reply.
-----
Jim stirred slowly, lifting his head and smiling when he saw Spock and Leonard.
“Spock! Bones!” he exclaimed. Leonard grimaced.
“You’re not actually gonna call me that, are you?” he said.
“Of course I am! It’s a great nickname.”
“It’s based off me fixing a serious injury of yours while we were starving on an alien planet!”
“Exactly!” Jim giggled. He held up the arm that had previously been broken, now healed. “Look, the doctors fixed it.”
“I almost forgot they could do that,” said Leonard softly. “We were down there a long time.”
“But now we’re not,” Jim said resolutely. “We’re off now. It’s over. There’s enough food for everyone here.”
Leonard looked away. “We thought there was enough food for everyone on Tarsus, too.”
That made Jim fall silent. Spock watched Jim’s chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath and tried not to think about the possibility of the fungus from Tarsus infecting the food stores on the ship, or the hundreds of other things that could render the food inedible. He focused on keeping his shields up. It had been too long since he had mediated. It was difficult, on Tarsus.
Jim spoke up, suddenly. “Did I ever tell you guys why I was at the meeting Governor Kodos called? The Execution.” running, screaming, death, blood on his hands--
“No,” said Spock.
“I was there because I’m a troublemaker. I break rules, I, I play pranks, I… I’m more trouble than I’m worth. That’s what Governor Kodos said, when he was listing reasons people were there. That was me. More trouble than I’m worth.” Jim wiped his eyes, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks. “Kevin’s adopted. His parents are Andorian. They’re family friends. I never knew them very well. They got the invitation, and they offered to take me and Kevin to the meeting and take us out for ice cream afterwards. Kevin wasn’t even supposed to go to the meeting. He doesn’t deserve any of this.” He looked up, gazing at the strangers across the room. “Do you think anyone else survived?”
“Perhaps,” Spock said. “However, if any others of the four thousand survived, none of them are Vulcans. I feel no Vulcan presenses here.” He had felt the katras of each and every one of the Vulcans on Tarsus die.
“I’m sorry, Spock,” said Jim, sincerely, putting his hand on top of Spock’s, and Spock could feel the empathy pouring off of him, the sadness.
He turned away. “There was, however, an Andorian in the room in which I woke up.”
“Maybe they’re one of Kevin’s parents.”
“Perhaps.”
“That’s nine,” Leonard said. “Nine people. Did only nine of us survive?”
The silence that followed this revelation was a somber one. Spock grieved. Grieved for the loss of two hundred Vulcans, of Kevin’s parents, of the old woman who was Leonard’s charge, of the four thousand colonists who were needlessly slaughtered. Their deaths meant nothing, because the Starships had arrived early. The Starships had arrived early with the backup food stores, and all eight thousand colonists could have survived on rations.
No one had to die.
The three of them were startled by one of the Humans across from them suddenly moving, sitting up.
“You’re children,” was the first thing he said.
None of them said anything in reply.
“You’re children,” repeated the Human, starting to cry. “Stars, he killed our children, he killed my children, but you survived.”
They survived.
They were going home.