Out of his shell

What if they never served on the same ship and never became the legendary crew Star Fleet regarded? What if they all met at a nursing home? What if it Spock was in a shell of his own? Much like Jim would be. And all it took was McCoy to be there to tow them both out as much as he will regret it. Inspired by Jim Carrey's second parody of Star Trek in living color.

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S'Chess knew the flack and disgruntled reactions he would receive from his crew. The turbo lift doors opened to the shuttle bay. He had personally thought this mission was doomed. To rescue one of their own from a not-so-likeable-evil-that-even Romulans despised. The group who advocated and killed in the name of a nonexistent god was ridiculous. It was close to absurd. He wondered how the laughing god approved of this and allowed it to go. It was part of his damn culture. The cargo was still in the shuttle it had been brought in to the ship. They just hadn't bothered to put it into the cargo sections of the starship. This was a custom made shuttle constructed by Marek and a few of the other engineers aboard the ship. It was sculpted off the newer models.

He walked down the hall.

Suppose this was going to happen one way or another.

Star Fleet hadn't seen the face of the one commanding the USS Nimoy. But it had files of a lost star fleet officer by the name S'Chess and his rank, his fabricated background before joining the Enterprise, and his parents names. The group was against Romulans working with star fleet and the federation operating with Romulus. They were dismissed as a inconvenient pest. In order to get this cargo they had to use the newer uniforms from star fleet that were stolen. Sure, it was an honor to meet the one who had survived Demon's Run. A whole another layer of honor meeting the son of Sarek. Spock's emotional outburst could be forgiven. Because he was only human. Emotions tended to take over the human as they grew older. Humans were passionate in their youth and mellowed out as they grew old, but their feelings? Those feelings never died down.

"Good afternoon, captain." The Yeoman, a fellow Romulan herself, with a smile on her face.

"Jolan tru." S'Chess replied,coming to a stop, watching the shorter Romulan pass him.

True, he did not expect to come back alive. S'Chess resumed walking. He looked back at his time on the USS Nimoy. His first memory of Byanne was rather, unusual, because they spoke telepathically without really knowing. For a psi-positive, it surprised Byanne that he was in an environment that would be tough on his psi. Her black eyes boring into his eyes, tilting her head, raising an eyebrow. Once he arrived to the door, S'Chess pressed a button. The doors opened before the Romulan. There was the shuttle craft resting in the center of the shuttle bay. The gleaming white armor glinting back at him. The wide wind-shield showing inside of the shuttle from the cargo in the back to the spare beds on the side behind the two chairs. He knew where he would be in the next few hours. Being recorded on his knees. Not in the best shape. Refusing to repeat what they wanted him to say. He wasn't religious nor paranoid enough to have his guard up twenty-four-seven like his father was. S'Chess came to the shuttle. The door opened after a knock. He boarded the shuttle. He decided to deliver the cargo as planned when the turbo lift was heading to the fifth floor. The turbo lift had changed its direction for him. S'Chess sat down into the chair then activated the shuttle. The shuttle lifted off the ground.

The shuttle bay doors opened.

There was no going back.

As he faced the open space twinkling with stars, a thought occurred to S'Chess.

Star Fleet will pay attention when they see one of their own die.

Then the shuttle craft jetted out into space.

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