a continuation of 1 2 3 4
Sybok double checks Jim’s numbers, then triple checks them, and normally that would get him a some sarcastic indignation, but instead Jim just paces and rubs his hands against his thighs and simultaneously looks his age and at the same time far too old.
“The ion storms are unpredictable,” he says finally. “It’s possible we’ll be able to get a signal out to Starfleet before the spring.”
“Well, anything’s possible,” Jim agrees. “Seventy three years of ion storm data says it’s not fucking likely, though.” He runs his hands through his hair. “The season just started, if I’d started a few weeks ago, we could have got a message out before the storms rolled in-”
“Hey,” he says sharply. “We’re lucky you discovered it this early. We can start conserving food now, and maybe - maybe we’ll get lucky again.”
Fall has just started, the season of harvest that gets them through the austere winter. Tarsus IV doesn’t get cold, not like it can on Earth, but it does get dry. Sybok had actually been looking forward to the winter, since the climate would more closely resemble what he grew up with on Vulcan.
That had been when he’d though food would be abundant, if a combination of heavily salted and flash frozen.
Jim gives him a look that reminds him, horribly, of his father. “What’s the official Vulcan stance on luck again?”
He glares. “It is illogical to ignore the possibility of survival just because of a low probability.”
“That’s not it and you know it,” he laughs, humorless.
“Maybe we can develop some sort of pesticide to save the remaining crops.
Jim’s reaction is pure offense, which is at least an improvement on hopelessness. "Okay, I didn’t graduate from the VSA, but I did run these experiments myself, you know. It’s all already infected almost all of our crops. They’re a goner, and everyone is going to figure that out in a couple of weeks when everything rots from the inside out.”
Yeah. They can probably synthesize something to counteract these parasites for the next planting season, but that depends on them being around come spring.
“We won’t all die,” Sybok says quietly, because many planets have endured similar circumstances in their past, however distant. “There are always survivors.”
Jim presses his lips together. “Yeah. Because Vulcans’ strict vegetarian diet really lends itself it to cannibalism.”
Sybok’s stomach rolls but he keeps his face neutral. “Technically, as I am the only Vulcan on planet, it would not be cannibalism.”
There are always survivors, but their survival comes at a price. He already knows that it’s a price he’s unwilling to pay.
He should have listened to Amanda.