Heaven

This is a story I wrote a LOOONG time ago for a Star Trek story contest.  Feel free to laugh or roll your eyes.  It ends kind of corny...like most of the episodes.

If Kirk was in the mood, he found the sight appealing, often humorous. If he was not, he found it one of the most frustrating things he had ever experienced. Spock’s raised eyebrow was a standing invitation for the answer to his question.

“Should we investigate?”

Rogue planets were not rare, so at first, Kirk had wondered why Spock had even reported its existence. The Enterprise had been mapping out the recently discovered Cen-32 Nebula. Kirk thought his assignment was finished when the ship’s sensors found a planet nestled among the cloud expanse. There was no star to keep it tethered there in space. Usually when a star exploded, as in the case of Cen-32, it took its daughter planets along with it. The anomaly had caught Spock’s eye, along with the atmosphere that still clung to the planet like a glove. The planet was class M, about three quarters of the size of earth. The final straw was the life sign readings. After reading off the reports made from the ship’s scans, Spock immediately walked down to the captain’s chair with his three word question.

Kirk smiled inwardly. He could see the curiosity burn in the Vulcan’s eyes. “I don’t know,” Kirk settled back in his seat, having a little fun at his first officer’s expense, “Do you think it is worth our time?”

As if on cue, the eyebrow lifted off the shuttle bay floor. “Do you not find it curious?”

Kirk turned back to the screen. The life signs made this planet to unique to pass up. He stood up and faced his first officer, “Let’s go, Spock, Scotty, come with me. Computer, have Ensigns Threnn and Carsidy meet us in transporter room two.”

Five streams of light gave birth to the Starfleet officers down on the planet. They had beamed down onto a hillside, overlooking a small pond. The planet appeared to be a tropical paradise. The air was slightly warm, with a slow cool breeze brushing over them. The vegetation was lush, with colorful wild flowers painting the hillside. A large forest appeared as a wall to the west. The bright red of the nebula replaced the blue that the sky normally would be. Well, normal in my Earth based opinion, Kirk thought.
Spock, Threnn, and Carsidy immediately had their tricorders out. Spock indicated to each of them a direction they should begin scanning.

“It’s beautiful,” Scotty marveled, looking in every direction, “It reminds me a little of home.”

“A perfect paradise planet,” Kirk said with a smile, though he was still a little wary. He had seen things as a captain that were too good to be true, and they usually were. He breathed in the air, smelling the sweetness. He turned to his science officer. “Report, Spock.”

“It is exactly what it appears to be. There are various new species of flora here, which are being catalogued. There do appear to be some humanoids a mile or so to the south.”

“Can you tell me anything about the natives of ...” He reached out and grabbed Spock’s arm. His senses were immediately alert, “What is that?” He pointed to a spot about ten meters ahead of them. Kirk’s heart raced. This was it, the unknown appearing before them. Moments like this were why he came to space.
A purple mist was forming, a small cloud coming from nowhere. It grew into a column approximately two and a half meters tall.

“Captain...” Threnn called behind him. Kirk quickly glanced over his shoulder. In front of the ensign, a similar column appeared. The captain moved his head back and forth. There was another to his left, and two more behind the first one he had seen.

“Phasers,” Kirk ordered, tempering his voice to keep the wariness from shining through. This was new and exciting, but it could quickly turn into an ambush.

The first column coalesced into a human figure. The process was not unlike the transporter. He was slightly shorter than Kirk, and humanoid in appearance. The only difference that Kirk could distinguish was the lack of nasal passages. The mouth was more in the center of the head. He was clothed only in a purple flowing robe tied in a loose knot. He opened his mouth and screamed the last thing Kirk expected.

“No!” He cried out and then stopped. He looked around furtively, and then down at his chest. He looked up, with fear in his eyes.

Other aliens were appearing all around them. Each of them with a shocked expression on their faces. They looked around in wonder. Spock had his tricorder out.

“It appears to be some kind of transporter.” Spock reported.

“And it also appears as if they weren’t ready for it.” Kirk added.

“Etana.” One of the newcomers whispered. “It is true.”

A river of whispers rushed through the aliens. Kirk stepped forward to one.
“Who are you? What is going on?”
The first alien focused on Kirk and his party, but did not answer him. “You .... Selhem! Come here!” He motioned to one of the aliens behind him. Selhem walked to his companion. The first alien just pointed at Kirk and his party. Selhem followed the gesture and looked at the Starlet officers. “Is it them?” he asked tentatively.

Selhem slowly moved his head in a small circle, “I do not know, Kassen.”

Kassen seemed to gain a little courage and stepped forward toward Kirk, “Are you the...” With each successive word, the courage leaked from him.

“The what?” Kirk asked, he was getting a little impatient. Off to his left three more clouds of purple began to form. His group was getting outnumbered fast. He had to know if this was a dangerous situation or not.

“Who are you?”

“Forgive us,” Selhem also stepped forward, “Your name to us is so sacred, we do not even pronounce it.”

“Our name?” Kirk gave him a confused look. He looked back at his other officers, who were all looking to him to be on-the-spot ambassador.

“The Oondahnin.” Selhem said softly, “You who created us.”
It fell into place even before Spock spoke up. “I believe, Captain, they think that we are their gods.”

“The sacred writings tell of this,” Kassen stuttered, ”When we leave our life, we appear in Etana and meet our creators.”

“Captain,” Scott spoke up behind him, “are they saying what I think they are?”

“They appeared to have been transported here sir, from some other place.” Carsidy spoke up, “Those columns of smoke act as our transporter beams do.”

“Transported?” Kassen looked around in alarm at his comrades. “I was slain in battle. Cha’Nin’s forces had taken me by surprise. He had cut my throat.” He reached up to his neck and tenderly felt the skin, but there was no mark there.

“This planet, this...Etana,” Kirk started, “Is where your legends say you go when you die?”

“If we are chosen,” Selhem explained, he looked around, a worried frown flowed over his face. He thought it odd that he would have to explain this to the Oondahnin.

“This place is analogous to Heaven,” Spock explained, “A place where a person goes when their life is over.”

Kirk looked around with a puzzled expression on his face. “But...Heaven...is a myth, just words of comfort given to grieving individuals.” Kirk turned to look at all the newcomers. Close to fifty individuals had appeared where previously there had been a wide open field. The landing party would have been vastly outnumbered if the new arrivals were hostile. Instead they seemed shocked and bewildered.

Spock took the captain aside. “Captain, from what I have seen, these people believe they are in the afterlife.”

“Yes...” Kirk mused aloud. “I want you to scan one of those pillars of smoke as soon as they appear. They may be a form of transporter unknown to these people. Perhaps they are being manipulated by a higher intelligence.”

“Higher doesn’t necessarily mean friendly.” Scott said under his breath.

Kirk nodded, “Try to get as much information from these people as you can, see where they came from, what they were doing when they were taken.”

Kirk walked over to Selhem, who was standing in a group with two others. They appeared to be examining each other, looking over their hands and arms, and feeling the fabric of their robes. Selhem was frantically asking questions to his comrades. Kirk could hear his voice from afar as he got closer.
“Did you see my brother? Was he alive?”

One of his friends, sadly shook his head, “I am uncertain. He was taken to the hanging pit. The guards were carrying him passed my cell only a few moments before the uprising.”

The rage spewed forth from Selhem’s entire face. He looked around in anger, and turn to face Kirk, just as he was walking up to him. “WHY??” He screamed at the captain, “We were fighting in your name! Your prophets told us we would be victorious! Why did you ignore our supplication? We prayed fervently and offered up the purest of our flock!”

Kirk felt the despair. He desperately wanted to do or say something that would ease the pain. Lying, however, was no prescription for the agony. Kirk and the others were not the Oondahnin, and this was certainly not Etana. He could only ask questions about their origin.

“This revolt you speak of,” Kirk tried to piece the puzzle together, “Is this when you were taken?”

“We had finally stirred enough dissenters together to form an uprising. We were tired of Cha’Nin and his years of gluttony. We made a raid on the citadel when the guards were changing rounds. We had made it to the inner courts, Cha’Nin was in sight. Our men were defeating his Elite Guard. It seemed we could finally effect change for our people.”

Selhem stared at the ground. All the passion that was in his voice just minutes ago had fled. Kirk knew what was coming.

“But Cha’Nin had one last weapon in his arsenal. The palace would never be taken, he had often said. Too late we realized the reason why. Explosive devices were placed at strategic points. With only a short sequence pressed into his wrist band, the deadly devices were activated. I only see that now as I look back. At the present time, we had no idea. I heard an explosion from seemingly far away, and then I appeared here. I seemed to have been...”

“Captain,” Spock interrupted.

Kirk was loath to turn away from the story, but remembered the order he had given Spock.

“Approximately twenty meters north, another transport is taking place.” Spock said and pointed in the general direction.

Against the swirling red gases of the sky, Kirk could see the first wisps of purple smoke. He started running toward it. Spock followed a few steps behind, adjusting measurements on his tricorder. He struggled to watch the screen and the mist at the same time.

Kirk ran up alongside it just as it was beginning to coalesce. “Are you getting anything, Spock?” Kirk knew his first officer would relate any important information, however in his haste to learn, Kirk sometimes jumped the gun.

“I am attempting to modify the frequency output of the tricorder to match that of the phenomenon.” Spock announced, “Maybe I can break through to the origin of the transporter.”

Kirk alternated his gaze between the tricorder and the thickening cloud before both of them. He heard footsteps and the ragged breath of one who had been running swiftly. He looked up to see Scotty running toward them. “Yes, Lieutenant?” He asked, hoping nothing was wrong with the recent arrivals.

“Those life signs we detected earlier,” He reported. “Off in the south, they are coming this way.”

Kirk looked up toward the horizon, but because of the rolling hills, was unable to see very far. Perhaps these were others of the same race who had arrived before these people. Or it could be the ones who brought them here in the first place.

As he looked into the distance, a tendril of mist emerged from the gathering purple column at about knee height and wafted through the air toward them, like a branch of a tree, moving in the breeze. Scott noticed it first. “Captain!” He cried out. Kirk looked up at the engineer and saw where he was facing. He spun around quickly as the smoke enveloped Spock’s leg.

“Spock, step back!” He warned, grabbing the science officer’s arm.

Scotty watched as Kirk and Spock’s forms appeared to blur, and then vanished.

Kirk had experienced the sensation of being instantaneously transported unaware, but he never had gotten used to it. In an instant, Kirk and Spock were somewhere else.

Kirk could only liken it to the darkness behind a closed eyelid and the brightness of a lighted room when his eyes were opened. It was that sudden, and that abrupt.

The next thing he noticed was the noise. Where they had been standing in a quiet landscape before, now there were shouts everywhere. Some sounded like battle cries, others in tremendous pain, but prevailing throughout was the clash of steel, and explosions.

“Captain, we seemed to have...”

“I know Spock.” Kirk needed to hear what was going on. There were in a darkened hallway. Behind them was blackness, as if the corridor ended in space. In front of them was light, and what seemed to be the source of all the noise. He took a step forward and quickly caught himself. There was some kind of obstacle on the floor. Kirk reached down to move it from his path, when his hand felt a slick wetness. His hand jerked back.

“He is dead, captain,” No emotion traced Spock’s tone. Kirk felt comfort in that, knowing that he needed clear thinking from his first officer. He stood up, the only being welcoming them to this place was a dead body.

“Kirk to Enterprise.” Kirk said hastily. He heard the tell-tale beep, indicating the communicator worked perfectly, but he didn’t hear what he was listening for. He repeated the command, but again was rewarded with silence. There was no need for Spock to inform him of the situation. They had been taken someplace where his ship could not rescue him.

Kirk stepped forward when suddenly the whole building shook. The Enterprise had been jostled enough times for him to realize what this was.

“Captain, there are multiple explosions taking place throughout the building.” Spock peered at the readings he was getting from his tricorder. “The structural integrity of the building we are in will not last long.”

They both got to the doorway and cautiously glanced outside.
A huge room met their glance. Beautiful tapestries lined the walls, some depicting scenes of faraway vistas, others showed dark battle scenes. A wall of evenly spaced pillars was placed approximately ten meters in from the wall, almost as if to provide a separation from the outskirts of the chamber. Great fountains splashed in the corridor between the outer walls and the inner pillars. Kirk could just make out a high terrace at the far end, with steps leading up to the platform. A single throne seemed to be the focus of the entire room.
The room would have been exquisite, if not for the carnage that ensued within its barriers. Bodies, bloodied and broken were tossed about as garbage. Blue heavily cloaked figures were facing off against a motley group of poorly dressed peasants. Swords swung and clashed against each other. The guards seemed to have greater strength, but their opponents made up for the lack of power with sheer determination.

Kirk had seen it many times before.

“It seems we are in the midst of the revolt.” Spock said, staring at the proceedings.

Spock had come to the same conclusion that Kirk had, probably a few seconds sooner. They had been taken to the place that Kassen and the others had just from.

A bright light and a burst of noise were all the warning the two of them got as an explosion burst from one of the pillars on the opposite side of the room. Kirk heard the grating sound of the support scraping against its foundation as it started to topple over. Kirk stepped out into the room as it fell with a resounding crash right into a group of fighters. The ceiling started to chip away. The captain dared not look at the unfortunate citizens of this world that had been crushed beneath the heavy pillar.

“Captain,” Spock grabbed his forearm, “We need to get out of here, and time is short.”

The building would not stand much longer. Kirk knew Starfleet General Order One. This was not his fight. It was not up to him to solve the political and social problems of this world. But the captain in him longed to do something. He had so often heard the stories of oppressed people rising up against those who would torment them. In the tales he had read as a child, the underdog always came through, usually effecting a last minute miracle and coming out with a victory. It was not always that cut and dried in real life. More often than not, those who were oppressed were crushed beneath something heavier than that fallen pillar.

He followed Spock toward the doorway at the other end of the room, They were careful to stay behind the intermittent wall of pillars. A great hallway met them as they made their way out. The door was approximately twenty meters tall and thirty wide. Kirk and Spock turned the corner and began to run out of the room. They had not gotten three steps when they saw the exit was barred. An explosion must have ripped through the floor. A curtain of dirt, cement and other building materials stopped them.

“We’ll have to find another way,” Kirk turned around, but Spock’s words stopped him.

“Captain, look.”

Kirk peered closer at the pile of debris and his stomach clenched. There were men here, people half covered under the destruction. “They must have been standing here when the bombs went off.” Kirk looked at them. Part of him wanted to run, to flee and get to safety. But these people had died, died in a quest to better their land, their civilization. Martyrs in a lost cause. He took a last look and stopped, glancing at the faces then turned to look at Spock. He too was staring at the corpse in front of them.

“This is Selhem,” Kirk whispered, barely heard over the sounds of battle behind them.

Spock looked over his shoulder. An eyebrow shot upward, this time neither appealing nor frustrating. “It does appear to be the man we talked to.” A loud explosion made Spock reach out to steady himself as he leaned in for a closer examination. His tricorder made three successive beeps. “Captain, this man has severe radiation poisoning. He was suffering from a severe form of cancer. Selhem checked out perfectly healthy, relative to the others at the landing site.”

A succession of screams brought the present situation back to Kirk’s attention. He stood up and turned back toward the entrance of the little doorway. Dust rose up like specters as figures ran back and forth. “There’s got to be another way out of here.”

They had no sooner stepped forward than their way was blocked by the silhouettes of two guards. The swords they bore had a mean and curious curve. Kirk suspected they were not only used to kill, but to make the death as painful as possible. They motioned for the two of them to step forward, out of the passageway.

As Kirk and Spock stepped into the light, they easily recognized the faces of the guards. They were Selhem’s race. One grabbed Kirk roughly by the shoulder and pulled him forward. “Are you with the dissenters? You are not one of us.” The guard looked closer, “A mercenary perhaps?”

Kirk moved to backhand the man, but the guard quickly grabbed his arm, and twisted it back. Kirk winced as pain shot up his arm like phaser bolts. The guard looked up at his companion. “Run them through.”
Kirk’s mind reeled from the pain, he tried to clench his hand into a fist. He could see the weapon pull back ready to strike, when a word swam to the surface.

“Etana.”

That stopped the guard. His face contorted in dismay, he quickly glanced at his companion. “What?”

“We are from Etana.” Kirk tried to straighten himself, give himself some slight air of dignity. He wasn’t really lying after all.

“How can that be?” The other guard had changed from hostile to inquisitive. “No one has ever come here from Etana.”

“He is lying!” The first guard grabbed the back of Kirk’s uniform, but he didn’t make a move to kill him.

Kirk could see hesitation. Whether the guard believed Kirk or not, there wasn’t room to make a mistake.
“Perhaps it is a sign!” The second guard kept glancing back and forth, from his friend, to the two captives. “The Oon...”

Suddenly the sword moved toward him, “Do not profane or I will kill you myself.” Kirk watched the exchange, wondering if the guard’s new found reverence was due to the appearance of these “prophets”. His captor appeared undecided, but the sound of crumbling walls quickly filtered through his reverie. “We must take him to Cha’Nin. He can decide.”

There was hardly any advance warning. One moment there were sharp quick sounds, as if branches were being torn apart, the next moments cracks veined through the ceiling and it began to give way. The far end of the room, where Kirk and Spock had come in, began to collapse.

Kirk tried to jolt toward freedom, but the guard’s grip was strong, pinching through muscle, almost down to the bone. The guard wasn’t going to let him escape, even in the face of certain death.

The guard was also not about to stand around and watch the destruction. He began sprinting toward the large platform. Kirk had to struggle to keep his footing as he was pulled up the steps toward the large throne. Before Kirk had a chance to inquire about their destination, he noticed a hole in the floor, directly in front of the throne. A passageway led down into the ground. He immediately knew that this was the despot’s secret plan of escape.

Darkness slid over him as he was pushed down the tunnel. The guard had let go, and Kirk took that as a sign of the impossibility of escape. The guard just kept pushing him along as they both ran. Kirk could make out dim fractures of light up ahead, but not enough to navigate by. He frequently ran into the wall or a stone jutting out from the floor.

“Captain?” He heard Spock calling out, probably to establish Kirk’s well being.

“Here Spock,” Kirk managed to wheeze out.

A tremendous explosion shoved all four of them to the ground. The noise engulfed them. Kirk tried to ward it off by protecting his ears with his hands. He looked around and then his face was assaulted by a stream of dust and wind. The palace must have collapsed, and the small tunnel was a channeled outlet for the explosion. Kirk coughed, trying to get in a lungful of air, but to no avail. He pulled his uniform up across his mouth and tried to use it as a filter. That proved a little easier.

As soon as his physical needs were met, Kirk realized his opportunity. He swung his hand hard backward into the guard behind him, or where he thought the guard should be.

Spock caught his hand before he could do any damage. “Captain.”

Kirk was relieved, he didn’t think he had much strength to fight anyway. He looked at Spock. In the dim twilight, he saw that his first officer was carrying something.

“The guard who had taken me was killed in the discharge from the explosion.” Spock said through his own uniform filter. He grabbed Kirk’s arm and hurried him forward. “The whole entrance to the tunnel was destroyed. If we had been traveling any slower, it would have gotten us as well.”

“What about him?” Kirk coughed.

“He is unconscious,” Spock reported, as if swirling dust was just another normal atmospheric condition, “I did not think it wise to leave him there.”

Kirk nodded, even though he didn’t know if Spock could see him or not. The passageway began to get a little brighter. A crosswind seemed to be blowing from up ahead. Perhaps they were getting closer to open space. Soon the vague outlines of the tunnel began to appear. Kirk could see that is had been tunneled out of the ground just recently. They turned a corner and found their goal. Daylight was a small eye in the face of the tunnel ahead. Kirk and Spock quickened their pace to get to the fresh air.

“I’ve been thinking,” Kirk said, finally pulling his shirt down to talk normally.

“As have I,” Spock said cryptically.

“Selhem was talking about a brother, someone who was going to be hanged or something. That could account for the person back there who looked like him.” Kirk’s eyes were adjusting to the brightness as he finally stepped to the mouth of the cave.

There were many people here, most dressed in the brilliant colors of royalty. A few guards walked back and forth. Kirk looked back to see the cave entrance. It was in the side of a huge hill, and on top, Kirk could see the last dusty breaths of the building above.

“But captain, that would not coincide with my...”

“You there!” Someone shouted, running over to them, “Who are you?”

A commotion rippled through the small crowd as people pointed at the two newcomers. Fingers indicated and whispers seeped around them. Spock slowly lowered the guard he had been carrying to the ground.
The crowd seemed to part as a small man pushed his way through. He was smaller than the rest with deep piercing eyes. A scar flowed down the side of his face and anger flowed from the rest of it.

“Cha’Nin,” Kirk guessed aloud and knew that he was right. The guard next to Spock began to cough. The short man looked down at him.

“You saved my guard,” the man said, his eyebrows slightly raising. Kirk caught a quick memory of the event that triggered all of this. “Who are you?” Before Kirk could answer, he went on talking. “Mercenaries from the Southland? I hear they look a little different then us. Did the resistance ask you to help them? What did they offer? A crust of stale bread from their food preserves?” This elicited a nervous laugh from the crowd. Cha’Nin stepped closer and walked around them. “Maybe some swamp wine to wash it down...”

“We are not from here,” Kirk could feel control of the situation slipping through his fingers. Before he could say more, the guard kneeling beside Spock interrupted.

“They claim to be from...” He struggled to his feet, “Etana.”

Cha’Nin barely contained a chuckle. “Come to give us some guidance perhaps in our hour of trial?” He grabbed a spear from a nearby guard. “I have a hard time believing your story, Persis.” He looked at the guard and with a quick movement thrust the spear through his faithful servant.

It happened so quickly Kirk thought he had imagined it. He was proved wrong as the guard returned to the ground in a crumpled heap. “Wait a ...” Kirk started to say, and Spock grabbed his arm. The unspoken message was clear. They were outnumbered at least thirty to one. The quick, brutal killing did not seem to phase the crowd in any way. Kirk knew that the death of two strangers would not be a surprise, in fact, it was probably expected.

“Care to elaborate your Etana story?” Cha’Nin stepped closer. Kirk could see the blood painting the end of the spear. The evil ruler held the sharp edge right up to Kirk’s face, waving it menacingly.

“We are the Oondahnin.” Kirk said, mustering his most convincing countenance.

The crowd gasped, almost as one. Even Cha’Nin stepped back and then shook his head and laughed. “Quite audacious. Few outsiders know of our laws and practices. But you cannot be them.” Kirk noticed that even he seemed to avoid saying the holy name. “Where are your majestic purple robes? Why did you need to use my escape tunnel to leave the building, when you could simply walk through the rubble? The sacred rulers of Etana would never hide from me. I sacrifice to them regularly.” He stepped back toward the crowd. He motioned to one of his Elite Guard. “Kill them both.”

“Why don’t you kill us yourself?” Kirk taunted. He had very few cards to play and would use whatever he had. “Because we may be the Oondahnin, and you don’t want our deaths on your own hands. Your atheism stops at your own words.”

Kirk could see the anger welling up inside him. He braced himself. With a shriek, Cha’Nin turned back and threw his spear. Kirk quickly sidestepped and flung himself at the man. Both fell to the ground.
Spock picked up the spear and instantly used it to defend himself against one of the guards. The spears clashed as Spock blocked swing after swing. He could see the rest of the crowd gathering. Could they hope to fight off this entire force? He swung the spear to the side, but the guard blocked hit expertly. Spock, in one fluid motion, used the inertia of the clash to turn the other end of the staff around and score a hit on the other side. The guard was falling to the ground just as Spock blocked an attack from behind him.

Kirk rolled around with Cha’Nin, wrestling for control. Cha’Nin pinned him down and struck him on the side of the head. Kirk’s vision blurred slightly, but he managed to get his feet up underneath Cha’Nin and kick him away. The madman pulled out his dagger and began circling back toward Kirk. Kirk kept a wary eye on the crowd. He didn’t have the strength to fight all of them, but maybe he could win another way.

“Why do you follow someone who must kill to make you obey him?” He yelled out. Cha’Nin made short thrusts with his weapon, which Kirk quickly avoided.

Cha’Nin almost laughed aloud, “You think to sway the crowds with an impassioned speech? These people are mine! Talk all you want, they will still walk over your corpse.”

Another guard made his way behind Spock. Spock glanced furtively back and forth, trying to keep an eye on both of them at once. Spock stepped back from the two of them and felt a crushing blow against his neck. He fell to his knees as the guard behind him pinned his arms back. Before Spock could use his Vulcan strength, the guard struck the side of his head violently with his spear. He could feel himself losing consciousness. The three guards circled him, examining his alien features. He may not be from Etana, they muttered, but he was certainly from someplace far away.

Spock shook his head. He seemed to be looking through a river of water. Figures, shadows, colors and sounds swam before his vision. He had to help the captain, but could not even get to his feet.
Kirk sensed rather than saw Spock go down. There had to be a way out of this. He focused on his opponent. He would have to make a move soon. Then Cha’Nin stepped back and smiled and Kirk thought he had his chance.

The people didn’t even flinch when a figure moved quickly from the crowd and forced his spear deep into Kirk’s side. Blood poured from the wound and Kirk staggered back. “No one dares to speak against the Emperor.” The man spat out fervently. “Even a fool from the fabled afterlife.”

The man who had stabbed him must be walking backwards, Kirk thought. With every word, his voice decrescendoed. Kirk was unsteady on his feet. It was so hot out here in the sun. His hand reached down to feel the wound and came back immersed in blood. His own life, spilling out on the side of an alien planet. Kirk fell to his knees, but was unaware he had fallen, below his waist he could feel nothing.
Spock started to get his bearings again. He was aware of some commotion behind the three guards surrounding him. He closed his eyes to steady himself and then he stood. His vision was blurry but improving. The three sentries were still surrounding him, but there attention was somewhere else. That proved to be their undoing.

The first one slumped to the ground without a sound. The guard immediately to his left turned in surprise before falling himself. Spock’s eyebrow raised again. Something must have afflicted these people so quickly that...

The third guard fell as someone rushed passed him. It was a young teenager dressed in a simple brown cloak. In his hand were small dart-like objects. He was covered with dirt and blood, and looked as if he had traveled a long distance. The Vulcan looked down at his would-be captors. A dart grew from the neck of one of them. Poison. That would explain their unconsciousness.

Before the crowd could even react, the young teen pushed aside an onlooker and ran to Cha’Nin. The emperor’s quick reflexes didn’t save him as the young man pushed a dart deep into his arm. “That is for my brother!” He screamed as Cha’Nin fell to the ground.

This did cause a reaction in the people. They stepped back for fear of being the next victim of this young man. “Selhem was the only family I had!” The boy screamed at the now comatose body, “And you took him from me!”

Almost as an afterthought, the guards grabbed the young boy, pulling him back. He didn’t fight them. His mission was already accomplished. “It doesn’t matter now,” he grinned, “You have not died in glorious battle or of old age, oh mighty Cha’Nin. You have died by the hand of a pitiful commoner!”

Spock leaned down to one of the fallen bodies. It was true. That poison didn’t just knock the guards out. It had killed them, quickly. He took in the scene. This was Selhem’s brother. This confirmed his earlier suspicions.

Spock’s eyes found his captain. Kirk was lying on the ground, unmoving. Spock rushed to his side. The crowd and guards were in complete disarray after the death of their leader. Spock knelt by the captain’s side, feeling for his pulse. Nothing. Blood slowly soaked the side of his gold uniform. Spock struggled to keep his emotions in check.

He looked around at all those that had gathered. They were talking angrily amongst themselves. One grabbed a guard and attacked him. Two others jumped on the back of another sentinel. This young man may have started a revolution here. More and more of the common people rose up against the members of the Elite Guard.

He did not share in their victory as he stared down at his captain. He looked into the side blinking back tears. Then he composed himself. This was intolerable. His Vulcan side took control, shunting the emotions back into a dark room in his soul. He started thinking logically. If this boy was Selhem’s brother, then maybe hope was not lost. The angry teenager had dropped a dart on the ground near the two Starfleet officers.

If Spock had been more human, he would have thought about his decision. He would try to justify both sides of the argument and then been filled with anxiety no matter what he had chosen. He would have felt fear at the unknown and doubt as to whether his hypothesis was correct. But he was Vulcan, so he stabbed his arm quickly with the dart. He looked up once more at the people and then slumped over, against his commanding officer.

Selkev walked over to the two strange beings. What a waste, he thought, peering over their carcasses. They had unknowingly helped in beginning his revolution and they would not be able to see it. Perhaps they were from Etana, and were making their way back now.


Kirk felt the sharp pain in his side, the heat from the sky on his face, the dirt and rocks against his knees. Then those feelings were gone, all he felt now was a cool breeze. He was standing now, and he was clothed in a plush purple robe. Still disoriented, he looked around. The sky was a rich deep red, and contrasted with the lush green of the hillside. “Spock?” He whispered. He reached to his side. Nothing. The wound had never been there. He pulled back his robe slightly. There was not even a trace of a scar.

“Captain?” Scotty asked walking closer. “How can it be?”

Kirk looked at his chief engineer. For a few moments he thought he would never see Scotty again, or any of them for that matter. He had thought he had...

“Died.” Kirk whispered. He looked up. There were Threnn and Carsidy. Bones and several other Enterprise officers were here as well. They appeared to have been scanning the countryside looking for him.

“What happened, Captain?” Scotty lowered his voice to complement Kirk’s hushed tones.

“I just.... died,” Kirk looked up into Scotty’s eyes. He began to comprehend. “I died and went to Etana.”

Joining the Enterprise officers were hundreds of the aliens from where Kirk had just come from. Could it be true? Was this truly the afterlife for these people?

“Captain,” Threnn pulled Kirk back as another column of purple smoke appeared. The people had appeared here in vast numbers before, then the stream of aliens had slowed until it had stopped completely. No one had appeared on this planet for almost thirty minutes until the captain arrived.

Spock stepped from the pillar of smoke and glanced down at his robe. “Fascinating” was all that he said. He looked around and spotted Kirk.

“Spock, I can’t believe what just...”

“Captain,” Spock cut him off. “It appears we died and went to Heaven. I suspected as much when I saw Selhem in the hallway. The tricorder reading from him was exactly the same as the one we took here, except for his cancer.”

Selhem pushed to the front. Incredible! These two had vanished and then returned! Truly they were the Oondahnin! Perhaps they could save their people back on Detan. He wanted to pray now, directly to them and ask for help. However, before he could say anything to them, the taller, more serious one turned to him.

“You will be glad to know your brother is alive and well.” Spock said calmly, as if not realizing this was the most important news Selhem could receive. “He has slain Cha’Nin and began a revolution.”

“Indeed.” A solemn voice said behind Kirk and Spock. They both turned in surprise.

There were ten beings there, clothed in similar robes as the others, except their robes were the black of obsidian There appearance was similar to the other aliens, but they stood taller, and radiated strength and power.

“Who are you?” Kirk asked, exhaling slightly. He was tired of sudden appearances and disappearances.
“We are the Oondahnin.” Four simple words, but the power of them swept through the crowd of people like a tidal wave. All those dress in purple robes fell to the ground. Now only the Starfleet personnel were standing up, and looking around a little confused.

“You are their gods?” Kirk asked. A small warning went off inside of him. He had encountered beings who thought they were divine. It usually ended up being trouble.

The speaker held up his hand. “You have nothing to fear. We are not gods in the sense you understand. You have helped our people, for that we are grateful.” He turned to a figure kneeling on the ground, “Selhem.”

Selhem stood up, but did not raise his head. He stared at the ground as he answered, “Yes?”

“We have answered your prayers. Your brother lives.”

Kirk began to walk away from the conversation. He motioned Spock to follow him. “I think it is time we left.”

“But Captain,” Spock said, “This is a unique opportunity to study their religious culture..”

Kirk shook his head, “This is not our business, I think we have interfered enough.”

The Enterprise officers gathered together as word was passed that they were returning to their ship.

“One thing puzzles me Spock,” Kirk looked at his friend who had shared death and life with him. “When we died, we came here to Etana. Cha’Nin died, why isn’t he here?”

“Perhaps captain,” Spock said, looking at the mysterious Oondahnin. “He didn’t go to Heaven when he died.”

Kirk felt Spock’s raised eyebrow even before he saw it. He looked up at the black robed figure who was listening in to their conversation, only to see an identical expression.

Memory Lane

Toward the end of my grandmother's life, she struggled with Alzheimer's.   This story came from the idea that if my grandmother thought she was a younger person or a different age, then maybe it was possible, in some way to talk to the person she used to be.



“I think I’d like to stop at the Hot Dog Shack,” my mother said.
“Mom, you know that’s a Burger King now.” I sighed. It wasn’t right, but I got so tired of correcting my own mother day after day. I turned the air conditioning off, knowing that my parents liked the car to be nice and warm.
“Oh, when did that happen?” my mother asked again.
“Donna, the Hot Dog Shack has been gone for ten years,” my father pointed out from the front seat beside me.
This had actually been his idea, this drive through the country. My mother didn’t get out much anymore. While putting her in Westwood Pines had definitely been a load off my mind, I did it more for dad than for myself actually. Erwin Tuinstra was just too old to have to deal with an Alzheimer’s patient on his own.
Having to convince his own wife that he wasn’t a stranger and trying to keep her in the house when she wanted to leave in the middle of the night was too hard on my dad. Sometimes my mom was the sweetest of souls, but dad would have to force her back into the house when she would claim her own father was waiting for her to come home.
Ten weeks after my mom had checked in to Westwood Pines, my dad had a stroke. Between the effects of his condition and the medicine he was supposed to take, he could no longer take care of himself then. Soon he moved into a room down the hall from his wife.
Along with everything else going on in my life, daily heartbreaking visits to the rest home
were now on my schedule. Dad hadn’t asked for a lot, just a Saturday morning ride in the car. I thought it might be good for all of us to get a change of scenery.
Getting them into the car wasn’t a problem, both of them were able to move around all right. It had just come on a bad day. My daughter was trying to get the sophomore float ready for the homecoming parade and I was on the committee. I also needed to see the architect about the house addition. When planning this little parental field trip, I hadn’t anticipated how busy I would be. I called my dad to reschedule it, but he kept gushing about how excited he was to be going. So, here I was.
“The trees are so pretty this time of year,” my mother observed from behind me. Even when he wasn’t able to drive anymore, my father was never one to sit in the back seat. “Erwin, you need a haircut.”
She reached forward to playfully put her hands through her husband’s thinning hair. I smiled at her, as she ran her fingers through in little patterns, like a little girl.
“Stop that, Donna,” dad said, pushing her hands back. That seemed to flip a switch inside of her.
“Where are we going?” she asked. Her voice became shrill. “Where’s my husband? Where are you taking me?”
Please not now, I thought. “Mom, we’re going for a ride. Dad is right up here in the front seat.”
She tapped the back of dad’s head again, “Dad? Who is this lady? Are we going to church?”
“I’m your husband, Donna,” Dad said, mantra-like.

“Where are we going?” Mom asked, her hands rapidly moving over her forearms, down her legs and back again.
“Mom, it’s ok,” I tried to soothe. “We’re going for a ride, like we planned.”
Mom’s arthritic fingers began pulling at the seatbelt frantically. “I want to go home, I want to go home.” Her voice was tinged with fear.
Dad turned around in his seat. “It’s all right, Donna. Terre is taking us for a little ride. We’re having fun, going for a drive like we used to.”
No effect. “I want to go home! Take me home!” Mom’s voice was getting louder, as she continued to fumble with her seatbelt.
I sighed. This was not a good idea. What was I thinking? Mom needed to be in a stable, structured environment.
Click.
I recognized that sound immediately. Mom was free in the backseat.
“Let me out. I want to go home! Take me home!” my own mother was yelling in the backseat.
“Dad, she took off her seatbelt,” I said, touching his arm. He was usually pretty good at calming her down.
“Donna, you know Terre,” my dad said in soft steady tones.. “Terre’s our little girl, she’s been taking care of us.”
I turned to join dad’s calming words saw mom pawing at the door like a caged squirrel. “Mom, put your seatbelt on,” I said, trying to stay calm.
“Take me out! I want my dad!”

“Donna, it’s ok, everything is all right.”
“Mom, please put your seatbelt on, I’ll take you home.”
“Terre,” my dad put a hand on my leg.
I turned back to the front of the car and my foot activated before my brain was aware. It mashed on the brake hard. The blue truck in front of us had stopped as the flow of traffic has slowed down. I swear the car went up on its front two wheels, as dad and I were pushed against the seatbelts. A thump behind me let us both know that mom hadn’t been so lucky. The car slowed down, skidding a little to the side.
“Oh my--,” I sat back in my seat, letting go of the breath I didn’t know I was holding in. My heart was drumming a serious rock beat.
The truck, totally unaware of the accident it had just missed, moved ahead as the traffic flow resumed. A horn sounded behind me and I pulled off to the side. County road 23 wasn’t a highway by any means, just the main route out of town. The crackling sounds of the car sliding onto the dirt embankment seemed to ease my mom’s mind slightly. She wasn’t shouting anymore, which helped me calm down.
Another click announced my mom opening the door to get out. My hand moved to the door controls on my own side, but it was too late. I don’t know what age my mother currently thought she was, but it wasn’t eighty-six. She turned in the backseat, plopping her feet onto the ground. She stood up and started walking away from the car.
“Dad!” I called out, opening my own door, even though I knew my dad wasn’t in any position to chase my mother down the street. The cars on the road were whooshing by, my mom blissfully unaware.

I sprinted the distance to my mom, grabbing her by her shoulder. “Mom, we need to get back in the car.” A few passing cars honked, whether out of concern or annoyance, I didn’t know or care.
Gently and firmly, I guided my mother in a little walking u-turn back toward the car. My dad had opened his door and was taking small steps toward us.
What a sight we must have been, the three of us by the side of the road. I felt like I was corralling a pet who had escaped, for all the world to see. Dad came forward, tears in his eyes. “Donna,” He slowly took her in his arms, hugging her weakly. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”
Mom seemed to melt against him, “Where did you go, honey?”
“I’m right here, sweetie.”
I leaned against the car, taking a moment to feel the sun against my skin, everyone safe for the moment. Taking a deep breath, I looked at dad, “We should take her home.”
Dad gave a sad little nod, and slowly opened the car door.
“There’s just no time,” my mother said, out of thin air.
Out of habit, I almost asked her what she meant. Life with my mom seemed to be one long interrogation session, with my dad and I taking turns doing the questioning.
I leaned into the backseat, adjusting the seatbelt around my mom, making sure she was comfortable. “There’s just no time,” she repeated.
“I know, mom.” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “We’re taking you back home now.”
I got into the car and started it. Looking back, I saw my mom staring out the window at a cow pasture, and my dad looking blankly into his lap.

Sighing, I eased the car out onto the road. “Maybe just a few more miles.” I said, changing my mind.
Turning left onto Clark Street, I decided to drive into a neighboring town. Lexington was about ten miles away, so we’d be back at Westwood Pines within the hour. That might work out better actually, I’d have time to get some float supplies for my daughter afterward.
“There’s not time! You know how busy I am!” my mother blurted out.
“What do you have to do today, mom?” I asked, too weary to argue
“You know we have church tonight!” she said.
I frowned slightly. My dad had been a pastor for forty years, which meant they’d gone to church regularly Sunday morning and night, along with a mid-week service, usually on Wednesday. The fact that today was Friday meant mom was remembering again.
“We don’t have church tonight, Donna,” Dad said, even though the two of them hadn’t been to church in the six months they had been living at Westwood Pines. I had been meaning to take my parents to the local Baptist church, knowing it meant a lot to them.
“Don’t argue with me,” my mom said, “It’s summer revival meetings. Your father is going to have a fit when I turn up late.”
“Mom, it’s the middle of October,” I said.
“And you, young lady, you should have told me about your emergency basketball practice!” This voice was totally different. It was the same tone that had yelled at me for a messy room, or for not doing my best on my science test.
“Donna, Terre is grown up now,” Dad said.
Emergency basketball practice? When was that? Fingers crawled at the back of my

mind. Now it was my turn to remember something that had happened years ago. I turned onto Lexington Avenue, the memory trying to surface from the depths of my mind.
“Why didn’t you get your sister Linda to drive you?” my mom continued to rant. “I’m not a taxi service!”
It was quite surreal to hear my mom complaining about driving me from the back seat of the car.
“She was busy,” I said.

My dad was of the school of thought that we should keep mom grounded in the present, keep her up to date. I knew my dad would be uncomfortable with what I was doing, but I pressed on. “I thought Linda had play practice.”
“Of course she does,” my mom continued, “I know she has play practice because she writes it on the calendar like I repeatedly ask you to do.”
“Sorry.” I was trying to sound nice and sullen, like I always did as a teenager.
This moment was coming back to me slowly. Only coach Klaus has ever used the words “emergency practice” like other people had used “emergency surgery”. The coach had been infuriated with one of our games and had ordered an additional practice for everyone. I was so boy-crazy at the time that I had completely forgotten to let anyone in my family know. I must have been fourteen or fifteen at the time, because I couldn’t just drive myself.
“Your father and I just want you to be a little more responsible,” Mom said.
My thoughts raced to countless trips to practices, rehearsals, parties and auditions that I had made with each of my five children. Just last week I had forgotten Randee’s
t-ball practice. I had no time to do that either, having to cancel my hair appointment. That‘s what a mother does.

Through the rearview mirror, I saw my mother staring out the window. That’s what my mother did for me.
As a pastor’s wife, my mother had countless responsibilities that I wasn’t even aware of. Prayer meetings, Bible studies, hospital visits, and ladies’ retreats were all in her charge. She was a literal super-wife and still had plenty of time for school conferences, sports, homework help, and making lunches.
A gulp raised in my throat. My mother had done it all.
“Thanks mom for taking me,” I said softly. “I’m sorry I can’t keep my schedule straight.”
I glanced in the rearview mirror, again, seeing a little smile grace her face. She really was beautiful.
My mind went back to that incident years ago. Did I apologize to my mother for that? I wasn’t a bad kid, but I was a teenager nonetheless. I didn’t have it together like my sister Linda did, but she was such an overachiever.
“It’s ok, honey,” she said.
It struck me how long it had been since I had pursued a back-and-forth conversation of this length with my own mother.
“How did you do on your algebra quiz?” she asked.
I looked at dad, his eyes set straight ahead. I knew that look. If my dad disapproved of the conversation, he would have spoken up, put an end to it. He was nervous, not knowing if my conversation was a good thing or not. He always stepped back when he was unsure of himself, and that’s what he was doing now.
“Elaine helped me with it,” I said. That probably wasn’t a lie. Elaine was the only friend

I had who could understand those assignments. Even with her help, though, I usually failed them.
“She’s such a good friend to you. I really like her.” Mom smoothed her blouse a little, looking up toward me.
“Mom,” I said, squeezing back tears. “I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate all you do for me.”
“Terre, it’s all--”
“No please listen,” I said, feeling funny interrupting my mother even though I was fifty-eight years old. “You’ve always kept me on my feet. I love you so much, I hope some day I can be the kind of mother you can be proud of.”
I breathed in heavily. My mom was incoherent so much of the time. I felt like I had poured a river out in a few short sentences.
“Terre, Terre, Terre.” My mother just shook her head. “I can’t imagine you with kids at all.”
My dad started laughing, and I joined him. Looking in the mirror, I saw that my mother was laughing as well.
“Donna,” dad said, “Remember when Terre brought that frog in to have dinner with us?”
“Oh my yes,” mom giggled. “What a mess that was!”
The three of us were laughing as the car stopped at the corner. Westwood Pines was five miles straight ahead. I switched on the blinker.

More Became Less

The Word became flesh

The infinite became a number

The inferno became a blanket

The manager became a batboy

The hurricane became a breeze

The sun became a match

The forest became a leaf

The rainbow became a tint

The life became mortal

The music became a note

The lion became the ant

The harvest became the seed

The statue became a rock

The CEO became the intern

The novel became a letter

The word became flesh

The one who knew no sin became sin for us

So that fabric could become clothes

So that the fan could play in the game

So that dead wood could become a tree

So that the prisoner could become free

So that the drop could become a drink

So that a note could become a song

So that the unacceptable could be welcomed

So that a crayon could become a picture

So that the seed could bring forth fruit

So that the rock could be shaped in a new image

So that the unemployed could work again

So that death could bring life

So that we might become the children of righteousness

So the orphan could become family

So that as many as received Him, to them were given power to become the Children of God.

For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be called the children of righteousness.

Here's where I'm going to post stuff I write.

If you want to read it, feel free.  If it isn't for kids...I'll let you know