Open Writing

IMMORTALITY.

The turbolift doors opened and McCoy looked through the opening on to the bridge, hardly daring to breathe. He stepped through cautiously, almost as if there were some danger, although he knew now that there was none, that all danger had, for the moment at least, passed. The doors closed behind him, and he looked around at the familiar scene.

Spock was at his customary science station, monitoring the ship’s systems; Uhura was at communications, talking with the operators at Space Dock; Chekov was at the helm, filling in for Sulu, whom McCoy could see on one of the view screens. The Asian was wearing the uniform of a captain in Star Fleet, and was sitting in the command chair of the Excelsior, which was preceding the Enterprise through the space dock doors.
And in the center of the Enterprise’s bridge, controlling it all, Jim Kirk occupied the captain’s chair. As McCoy approached slowly, hardly daring to make a sound lest he disturb some fragile balance, Kirk spoke into his intercom.

“Thank you, Scotty. Stand down engineering, old friend. You’ve brought us safely home again, Mr. Scott, and for the last time. Come on up and join the party. Bridge out.” Kirk turned as McCoy approached, and smiled the way McCoy always remembered.

“Bones, nice of you to join us. Come to watch the famous final scene? See the grand finale?”

McCoy looked at him, and somehow found his voice. “You, ah, you don’t seem too unhappy to be docking the Enterprise for the last time, Jim,” he said, trying not to stare at the friend he had thought lost forever.

Kirk shrugged. “Who knows what the future holds, Bones? Anything’s possible. You never know, I might even re-enlist, take the rejuvenation treatments.”

McCoy smiled. “Sure you will.” Then he was silent again. He looked around at the others as the turbolift doors opened and the portly figure of Montgomery Scott entered the bridge and took up station beside Spock. Nothing appeared to have changed, and the Enterprise had suffered no damage of any kind. It was as though the events of the last three and a half years had not happened.

He looked again at his friend. Somewhere between leaving sickbay and arriving on the bridge, McCoy had decided that he would not tell Kirk and the others about the Continuum, nor any of the secrets that those beings had revealed about his friends’ future. Their leader had been right; he was a doctor, and well accustomed to keeping confidences. He would keep this one well, and might even take it to his grave.

McCoy looked at his friends again, at all of them. He had known these people for almost half of his life, and had shared adventures with them that most people would not even believe, let alone experience. Now, it was over, at least for some of them. Chekov, Sulu and Uhura would, he had no doubt, go on to enjoy distinguished careers, perhaps reaching even greater heights and more exalted positions than Star Fleet had to offer. But Spock and Scotty would retire, and would pursue whatever paths they decided on. This really was the end; as Tolkein had said, the breaking of the fellowship. They would go their ways, follow their own paths, and at the end, they would all seek, and hopefully find, their own Havens.
Jim Kirk would also retire, but there was at least one more adventure in his future. McCoy had not been told the details, but he knew it would be something spectacular. And even that might not be the end for his friend. The Continuum’s leader had admitted that even they could not see all things; who knew what was waiting just ahead, further on down the time-line?

But, whatever his future, when it was finally over, Jim would become an immortal, one of the continuum; as would, in their turn, the others with whom he had shared so much. That was something McCoy found very fitting, very becoming of his friend - of all of them, but especially Jim. Second star to the right, Jim had said, the last time they had come this way, and straight on ’till morning. James T. Kirk, and the crew of the starship Enterprise: like Peter and his boys, not lost, but immortals. McCoy smiled to himself; it had a nice ring to it.
And the same, McCoy was sure, went for the others whom the Continuum had mentioned, the one called Picard and his crew. McCoy did not know who they were, or whether they were even born yet, but they sounded like a future version of Kirk and his people. If that were the case, then the future of Star Fleet, and of the Federation, was going to be in good hands.

For himself, he would take the rejuvenation treatments and re-enlist. No other life was possible for him, and he knew he had no choice. He would miss the company of Jim and the others, and would try to stay in closer touch than he had in that other, alternative life. But he knew it would be enough for him, most of the time, to know that they were still around, that they were still, in their own ways, making a difference.

If he were also found worthy of the Continuum, then he would be with them for all of time, involved in the universe at the most intimate level. As the leader had said, time was all there was, and time would tell if there were any more adventures further down the line for him or any of them, before they went to their eternal reward. Time enough, and to spare.
Smiling to himself, McCoy stood behind Kirk’s chair and watched as the great ship glided home.

THE END.