INTERLUDES: Faith of Our Fathers

It was an indication of just how exhausted the crew of the Enterprise was when even Commander Spock requested full shore leave.  But between the destruction of the Intrepid and his own near death experience he needed the time to center himself in the solitude not afforded to him on board ship.  
	Arriving five minutes before his transport was to leave he found he was the last to arrive.  He had chosen to go by planetary ferry to his destination on Plenitia since he was not going to one of the tourist centers.  Christine Chapel sat in her seat engrossed in a book and beside her Barry DeSalle sat trying to keep her from reading.  The pilot was making last minute checks of all systems.  Spock stowed his knapsack in the hold area.  “Are there any more scheduled to board?” he asked.
	“I was told there were three, looks like there are three.  We can go ahead and start off if it’d be all right.”
	“Please do,” Spock replied eager to get going.  
	DeSalle tugged at Chapel’s book, “Come on Christine we’re on leave.”
	Mindful of Spock sitting across the aisle she admonished, “And we’re in public.” 
	“If you’re gonna be that way why are you even coming,” the engineer pouted.  
	Before Chapel could respond Spock said, “Mr. DeSalle, the pilot is waiting for you to strap in.”
	The lieutenant stopped talking and buckled the safety strap.  It would be an hour ride to the drop off point, and after that an entire week of shore leave.  Spock let his mind float free of thought, Chapel went back to her book, and DeSalle slowly seethed.  It was bad enough that it had taken him two months to convince Christine to come with him but then of all the other passengers they could have shared the ferry with, it had to be Spock, the man he considered his nemesis—at least where Chapel was concerned.  
	Halfway through the ride they felt a jerk that was not normal.  Spock could hear the strain on the craft as one engine pod had begun ripping away from the strut.  The working engine was beginning to whine as well and if the pilot could not get command of the craft they’d end up spiraling out of control.  The pilot however was busy keeping the steering from getting too wild to tend to any engine problems.  Barry unbuckled from his seat and scrambled to the power hatch with Spock at his heels.  Power couplings were black and there was no way to patch them from the inside.  
	“We will have to attempt a soft landing,” Spock shouted over the whine of the second engine giving out.  The gravity pull was so great neither he nor DeSalle could make it back to their seats so they held on to whatever they could.  Just before the ship hit ground Spock locked eyes with Chapel.  She was calm, unafraid, at peace with her fate.  If they lived he would have to ask her about it.  

	Christine opened her eyes.  She’d made it thanks to the safety straps and the fact that she’d been sitting near the back.  She’d been out some time, at least she felt that way since she’d been hanging there.  Her ribs were sore and her head ached.  She imagined she’d have a perfect case of whiplash and maybe a slight concussion and some bruised ribs but she was lucky compared to the rest.  The nose of the ferry was crushed, and she assumed the pilot was dead since she didn’t see him anywhere in the floor of the craft.  Spock and DeSalle were crumpled up under panels.  She didn’t have a medi-kit handy but she could tell DeSalle had a broken leg and probably a broken arm.  Spock had fared better since he’d been able to hold on till the very end and had literally bounced off DeSalle.  Trying to figure out what to use for supplies she pulled out her luggage and getting some of the ferry’s water from the lavatory she used a pair of her underwear as a compress.  Spock moaned a bit at the sudden touch of cold water and was fully awake moments later.  He had dislocated his left arm trying to hold onto the seat brace, but otherwise seemed fine.  Christine felt around the socket, “It’ll need to be set.”
	Spock nodded and braced himself.  Chapel hated to do it, but with as much force as she could muster she jerked the outstretched arm while keeping her foot rammed in Spock’s armpit.  It worked and he was grateful.  The pain was still there but the arm was functional.  Retrieving the compress he realized what it was.  Chapel shrugged, “Necessity is the mother of invention. After all I could have used your underwear.”
	Spock replied, “Your logic is impeccable.  Mr. DeSalle’s condition?”
	“Broken leg, probably a broken arm.  Other than that I can’t really tell till he wakes up, and he’s not gonna be too happy when he wakes up.  Let me figure out a sling for that arm,” she said noting the way Spock held the arm to his side.  Digging back in her luggage she disregarded the notion of one of her bras and looked for something else.  She’d packed a brightly colored kerchief to use for a poolside cover up and that would be perfect.  She draped it over him, “I’m afraid pink’s not your color Mr. Spock.”
	“The color is immaterial.  It is better, thank you,” he replied and looked over to the pilot’s seat… or where the pilot’s seat should have been.  “There is no use in helping the pilot.”
	“I don’t think so.  Wonder what we hit?” she asked and tried to clear the ringing in her ears.  That wasn’t a good sign, but she’d just ignore it.  
	Spock managed to open the door one handed, “The base of a mountain.  But we are on solid ground.  Can we move Mr. DeSalle?”
	Christine considered, “Better now than later.  He’d probably be best off in here though.”
	The Vulcan agreed with her assessment and gently untangled the engineer to pull him into the center of the ferry floor.  There was a cold nip in the evening air and Spock made certain the emergency beacon was activated before considering any outdoor scouting.  A fire would help both keep them warm and signal for help.  “Will you need help with DeSalle’s leg?” Spock asked. 
	“Yes but I’ll need something for a splint.  Are there any trees or anything out there?” she answered focusing on the inert lieutenant.  He was starting to come around.  Spock thought of something, “I can put him in a light coma, similar to the healing trance I was in.  It will keep him from thrashing around and I would think be preferable to the pain he will experience.”
	“Thank you, I’m sure he would appreciate it,” she said thankful for all the Vulcan mysticism and realized how badly she ached all over when she tried to stand up.  She swayed a little but Spock steadied her, “You are injured?”
	“Jarred more than anything I think.  I did hit my head on something.  Can you see if I’m bleeding or anything?” she asked bending her head in the emergency lighting.  Spock made a cursory look, found nothing that looked like blood amongst the blonde curls, “I can see nothing.”
	“Thanks.  I’ll find some strips of cloth for the splint.” 
	It didn’t take long for Spock to find a fairly straight branch.  Christine was ripping a piece of sheer cloth into strips when he came back in.  She noted his look at her choice, “Oh well, Barry said I’d not have it on very long.  That’s perfect thank you.”
	Spock said nothing as he helped set the man’s leg. He was far from blind to Human sexual habits.  He had been peripherally aware of DeSalle’s pursuit of Chapel.  Although Spock had no claim nor desired a claim on the nurse he could not approve of DeSalle as a partner.  He could be crass and hot headed and through ship’s talk, Chapel was little more than a trophy for him to collect.  She had a reputation of being an ice queen, but Spock knew that was erroneous.  At least she was not cold toward him.  Still, she deserved better than what Lt. DeSalle was offering her.  All women deserved better.  
	“I have started a signal fire.  Perhaps it would best if we moved out there,” he suggested.  Christine nodded and grabbed one of the emergency blankets to curl up in.  It was full dark now and no sign of a moon.  Plenitia had no natural satellites.  Sitting Indian style on the ground, Christine leaned against the ferry hull.  “Nice night for a wienie roast,” she commented idly.
	“Wienie roast?” Spock inquired as he added a large piece of wood to the fire.  They had been lucky to crash in an area thick with fallen brush.  
	“You know, camping out, hot dogs, s’mores…  Anyway, you skewer the hot dogs and you roast them on the fire.  Best way to eat them,” she answered. She ached in more places than she knew she had and as long as she kept her eyes closed the vertigo wasn’t so bad.  
	“I fear my rations will do us little good.  I brought no food,” Spock said.  
	“Fasting’s good for the soul,” Christine muttered.  She really wasn’t interested in food anyway.  
	Spock kept a steady eye on the flame for a time and then looked over at the nurse who wasn’t aware he was watching her.  He recalled what he’d seen before they’d hit, “Miss Chapel may I ask you something?”
	“You can ask anything you like.  You might not get an answer though,” she said.  She’d nearly fallen asleep and wasn’t sure that was a good idea.  
	“As the ferry made its descent and the crash was imminent you seemed… unconcerned.”
	“Oh, that,” she chuckled.  She thought he might ask why she was with Barry.  “I guess that’s because I was raised a believer.  Of course with a name like mine I’d have to be.”
	Spock considered the meaning of her name, “Christian Church?”
	“Mmm-hmm, obvious ain’t it?’ she replied with a smile.  “I guess my father wanted to assure me a place in Heaven.”
	“So death does not bother you?”
	The nurse straightened to try to get the kink out of her back, “Oh sure it does.  I can handle my death; it’s the idea of dying that gets me.  I don’t like to watch others suffer either.  I don’t know what the pilot’s name was but he was kinda lucky.  He died quick.  That probably sounds funny, but it’s true.”
	Spock recalled his own recent incident and how it had shaken him.  The slow torture of being suffocated had been perhaps the worst experience he’d had and been conscious the entire time.  “No, it does not sound funny.  I believe I can say that the crew of the Intrepid would have preferred a death such as that.” 
	“I overheard you talking to Leonard the day it happened.  You said you felt it die?” she asked trying to figure out how you would do that.  
	“Yes, I cannot describe it to a Human,” he insisted.  
	Chapel leaned toward the fire, “I know.  It’s personal, like how I can’t really describe why I wasn’t afraid to die.  All my life I’ve seen people turned away from faith or spirituality because others have insisted on telling them how to feel or believe when really unless you’ve had that bolt of lightning within yourself you’ll never know or understand.”
	The Vulcan stared at her in amazement.  She did understand or at least she understood that there were things that couldn’t be explained but existed nevertheless.  “A bolt of lightning, that would be an apt description of what happened but in this instance the lightning was filled with a great deal of the pain of astonishment.  As you said, dying is far worth than death itself.”
	“Leonard knows that too.  He just likes being obtuse,” Christine admitted with a sigh that brought on another round of whirling spots.  “Spock…”
	“Yes?” 
	“Spock…” she repeated unable to get out what she wanted to say.  Falling back against the ferry hull, she groaned, “Damn, that was smart.” 
	Spock’s voice was in her ear, “Perhaps you should rest.”
	His hands helped her push into a comfortable position.  “I don’t think I should, fall asleep that is.  I’d bet my new pair of flip flops I have a concussion.” 
	Spock was not willing to ask what flip flops were.  “Then it would be best if I were to keep watch.  I will make certain you do not fall into deep sleep.”  
	With that assurance Christine nodded off not realizing that Spock pulled her into an embrace so that her head rested on his shoulder not on the metal hull.  He considered how remarkable she was and with her asleep he could admire her without being discovered.  
He would remain like that until morning when the sounds of a rescue ship appeared on the horizon.  Jim Kirk was the first one out with McCoy in tow with his medi-scanner out and whirring.  “Spock, can’t you even go on shore leave without getting into an accident?” 
	The Vulcan stood stiffly, “Apparently not.”
	McCoy wasn’t so busy checking out Chapel and DeSalle that he couldn’t keep from commenting on the kerchief, “I think we ought to make pink one of the ship’s official colors, looks pretty with that green complexion of yours.”  
	“Shut up Leonard,” Christine growled from her spot on the ground.  
	“I’ll attribute that smart alecky tone from my head nurse to a nasty bump on the head and a concussion.  Might want to be careful breathing for a few weeks too, those ribs are cracked young lady,” he warned.  
	“Thanks Doc,” she said and locked eyes with Spock just over McCoy’s shoulder.  There was a hint of a smile in her face even though she was in pain when she breathed and Spock rewarded her with a cocked eyebrow.  She’d been far more seriously injured than she’d let on: a truly amazing woman indeed.