A Little Camp
by Hypatia Kosh
The tent was Jim's idea of a good leave, and Spock had complained little. A few hours of observing the native flora was well worth the loss of a soft bed.Seeing the stars planetside was a remarkably emotional experience. Jim seemed to understand, preparing their camp for the night and leaving him in peace.
The tent was quite cramped inside. If it were a "two-man" tent, then the manufacturers must have had very diminutive men in mind--Khoisan from southern Africa, perhaps; or Ranglesh from the Altair highlands.
Jim laughed and told Spock to curl on his side. Jim played with the fastenings of the windbreaker and the bug nets at the entrance to the tent.
There was no hush at night as he had supposed there should be. Arthropods played a moto perpetuo in concert while the wind periodically rustled leaves or the fabric of the tent. Distant vertebrates made low calls; whether for the hunt, for their mates, or to mark territory, Spock did not know. Jim was untroubled, quickly falling into a quiet, steady breathing pattern that could only mean he slept.
Spock attempted to follow him there, but so many years in the quiet of his lonely cabin with only the susurration of the air vents for company made it difficult for him to settle down. The ground was hard, the sleeping bag was lumpy, the noise was constant, and there was a good-sized human breathing next to him.
A walk. A walk would clear his head and bleed off excess energy.
He began to fiddle with the entrance, but he had failed to note precisely how Jim had fastened it.
The noise roused his human companion. "What's going on?" he asked groggily. "What're you trying to do?"
Spock cleared his throat. "Go out."
"Like this," Jim said, deftly opening the tent. "Urine kit's to your left."
Spock left without a further word. For a while he wandered under the sparse starlight. His night vision was poor, but his sense of direction was more than adequate to keep him from losing his way.
There was nothing of interest in the dark--at least, nothing he could see and study without a tricorder--so he reluctantly returned to the little tent.
He took care on re-entry but reawakened Jim anyway.
"Where did you go?"
"For a walk."
"Oh." There was a rustle. "Trouble sleeping?"
"Actually, yes."
"Ground too hard?"
"The insect noise is . . . irritating."
"If they're even insects."
"Precisely. Whatever the cause . . ."
"I understand. I grew up with crickets and cicadas, so I'm pretty much immune."
"Cicadas?"
"They make a buzzing noise, sort of a high-pitched whine, all summer long."
"Ah. I only know of cicadas on account of their unusual life cycle."
"Oh yeah, the 17-year cicadas. Those are pretty loud."
"You have them every year?"
"Some. There's more than one species, I think. I used to find their molts on trees. Collected them for a while. Mom found them a little creepy. Girls, too. Sam told me that if you frightened a girl and then 'saved' her, she would make out with you."
"Your brother?"
"My brother. Didn't work."
"It does seem somewhat unlikely."
"It would work if you could arrange for the girl to be frightened--but not too badly--as long as it doesn't look like you did anything to her deliberately. But if she every finds out you orchestrated the whole thing--kkkh."
"Seems risky."
"There are much better ways to put a girl in the mood," Jim said, but didn't explain.
Spock was curious about this statement but could think of no appropriate reason to continue the line of inquiry, so he settled back in his sleeping bag.
"You know, if you're really uncomfortable," Kirk said, turning towards him, "don't take this the wrong way, but you could lie on top of me. I'm told I make a good pillow. It's not an imposition--I'm fine on this stuff. Besides, you'll stay warmer when the temperature drops a few hours from now."
"Logical," Spock said, and it was. After some maneuvering, Spock rested with his head and arm on Jim's chest. The sounds of Jim's body drowned out the insects and he quickly fell asleep.
Kirk woke up around 5AM with a Vulcan sprawled on top of him, sleeping soundly. He was so warm that, for once in years of camping, his joints were not the least bit stiff. "My friend and more-than-friend," Kirk said to no-one in particular, "I'm glad you finally joined me."