Beyond Dreams 5OUT OF PRINT
|
 |
A HOUSE OF CEDAR by rac
HARP SOLO by Animasola
FAMILY MATTERS by Elise Madrid
SPACE OF TRANQUILITY AND LOVE by kira-nerys
DISCOVERED by Deanna Grey
A TREE FOR TWO by I.M. Mueller
THOUGH THE STARS MAY FADE by Islaofhope
DAWN by Jenna Hilary Sinclair
SLOW SPRING by Katherine Cooke
Spock cha'Sarek fingered the small data storage chip, then looked slowly back up to the tired eyes watching him. "I…do not understand, Admiral."
Eridani's waning light filtered through the window coverings, highlighting the quiet tableau in a soft, pale, reddish glow. It accentuated the human's ruddy skin tone and enlivened the dark red Vulcan robe he wore, leaving him painted in a palette of fiery colors…all except his eyes. Spock was very aware of the distinct lack of animation in the human's eyes. That absence bothered him deeply for reasons his logic could not discern.
Admiral James T. Kirk sighed softly and underscored Spock's sense of disquiet. He knew that once again he had been unable to live up to the expectations of the human who had risked so much for him.
"I know you don't, Spock. It's okay, you'll figure it out. Just…play the tape. It's, uh…self-explanatory. Mom sent it to me; she thought it might hold some…some therapeutic value. Frankly, I had no idea it even existed…." Kirk shook his head, a strange expression on his face that Spock could not interpret as he sighed again and absently rubbed his jaw. "Came as quite a shock to me. But anyway, just play it. And here…open this after you play it. After…afterward, if you have questions, you know where to find me."
Having given Spock an inadequate explanation, a set of instructions, a wrapped package and a long searching look, James Kirk took his exit from Spock's room.
Spock experienced a strong, disconcerting impulse to open the door and follow the admiral, demanding specifics about what he expected Spock to "figure out." But such a desire, by definition, was emotional in nature and therefore highly illogical. Spock grasped the data chip tightly, his thoughts even more confused.
He stepped over to the windows and looked out over his mother's earth-styled garden. He looked at her prized roses, flashes of brilliant color against a backdrop of silver blue and gray native growth. Delicate earth flowers, whose existence was the height of illogic in a water-starved desert region. His mother, yet another human whose references to his feelings confused him.
How would he ever regain that which had been lost to him? The more the humans encouraged him to remember certain aspects of his old self, the stronger he experienced the desire to retreat to the safety of Seleya's huge, ancient—and understandable—enclosure. Yet he recognized that such a need was emotional in origin, so he worked harder on maintaining his controls as he plunged further along his journey of remembrance.
And this…. He looked down at the small bit of technology in one hand and the box in the other. It must represent a significant and important step along his journey, or so he had gathered from the admiral's demeanor. He observed with a vague confusion that his hand shook slightly as he held the data chip. Control, he thought clearly, there must be control.
Only after Spock had regained sufficient control of himself did he walk evenly across the room to the computer terminal. Another piece from the puzzle of his life was now about to be revealed to him.
An odd feeling settled into his stomach. Something in this unknown threatened his equilibrium, and his hand trembled again. He curled it closely around the edge of the desk and squeezed, welcoming the clean, focusing distraction of mild pain as the audio-only file began to play.
He would never feel a thing.
The sky would blacken, as would his eyes, pupils widening as the sun went out above him. There would be no pain, and no time to grasp finality. The asteroid moved too quickly for the cataclysm to linger. Impact promised death with all the mercy of a falling star.
Jim would not suffer, if even he still lived at all.
It had become Spock's mantra, cycling through his mind for weeks as he strained to decipher the glyphs. The words echoed through the sounds of his computer, their rhythm repeating in the plaintive thrum of the ship's damaged engines, barely perceptible vibrations beating a tattoo through the deck beneath his feet. Spock listened as he stared at the scans. The sequence of alien runes on the obelisk burned into his viewscreen day and night, their morphology impenetrable.
Spock disregarded the bitter wave of fatigue that swept through him as he rose from his all too enticing bunk. McCoy would never understand the peril to which he had just exposed the ship by forcing him to lie down even for a few seconds. It was easier to humor the doctor than to reason with him. Though arguing with him was strangely comforting in Jim's absence, it would only waste more time they didn't have.
He had lied when he said he was not tired, but after five weeks of minimal nutritional intake it was true that he no longer experienced hunger. McCoy was clearly convinced that Spock's fast was a form of penance, and as it seemed to please the human to believe so, Spock granted him the illusion. The simple truth was that the mineral-rich resources his body stored as fat (minimal though these were) released much-needed energy that allowed him to remain alert during prolonged periods of sleep deprivation. He could last for at least another month before serious physical deterioration set in.
Jim would not feel the cataclysm.
Spock seated himself in front of his viewscreen. As he had surmised before the doctor interrupted him, the runes bore no relation to the Fabrini alphabet. A noise from the far corner distracted him: his lyre. He had fallen into the habit of leaving it uncovered. The strings still faintly resonated with McCoy's parting threat to enlist security to enforce his prescription for sleep. Not that the doctor would have heard the effect his brief tirade made upon the sensitively strung instrument; it was only discernable to Vulcan ears.
From Family Matters, a novella by Elise Madrid
Spock listened intently, often bewildered by the banter that flew across the table as the four humans talked over dinner. Such informal conversation during meals was not done in Vulcan homes, but he was enjoying the spontaneous give-and-take of his new…friends. Yes, his friends, and somehow it felt so very right to sit here with these open, giving beings, his inclusion in their lives a magical reality.
He especially enjoyed watching the young man sitting across the table from him. Jim Kirk's force of will was like no other Spock had ever met.
"Anyway," Jim continued, as he regaled the table with anecdotes of the academy, "it made me even more sure about my choice."
"You wish to command a starship?" Spock was intrigued. Though his own desires led elsewhere, he was fascinated by Kirk's drive.
"You bet. The way I've got it planned, I'll get there in twelve, fifteen years, tops."
"He will, too," Aurelan interjected. "Not too many graduate from the academy by twenty-one. I've never known anyone as tenacious as Jim."
"Lord, yes. You should have seen him as a kid. Little scrawny thing, but he'd take on whoever, or whatever got in his way. Just like Michael, right, son?" Sam ruffled the tow-headed youngster on his left.
"Ah huh. I'm going to go with Uncle Jim, fly a spaceship. He promised." The small boy looked up at the uncle he idolized.
"That's right. You and me, we're going to see the stars together. Every captain needs a right-hand man he can count on." Jim smiled at his nephew and then looked at Spock. "Aurelan says you're with the Enterprise. That'd be Chris Pike's ship, right?"
"That is correct. I joined the crew eight point three months ago."
"How did you get hurt?" Aurelan asked.
"We were attacked by the natives on Rigel Seven. During the ensuing battle, I was felled by an object that struck my ankle."
"I heard you lost some crewmembers." Jim's gaze took on an unfocused quality. "That must be really hard for a captain to deal with. Losing people you're responsible for."
"Captain Pike was deeply affected by it." Spock watched the play of emotions across the young man's face with interest. He wondered how Kirk would eventually deal with such a loss, and how it would change him.
"So, where are you staying, Lieutenant?" Sam Kirk, elbows on the table, leaned forward and looked past his young son to Spock.
"At the Cambridge Hotel, across from the medical center. I am expected to undergo several treatments in order to rectify the injury to my ankle. The hotel is conveniently located for my purposes."
"Oh, but it's so…." Aurelan gave Spock a distressed look.
"Shabby," Jim cut in.
"It is adequate for my needs."
"Oh, no. You can't stay there. Jim, make him see that he can't stay there," the young woman pleaded.
"She's right. It gets pretty noisy there, so close to the spaceport," Kirk commented, and Spock could almost see the thoughts as they formed. "Stay here. There's plenty of room, and you can tell me all about life aboard the Enterprise."
"I could not impose in such a way." Spock fought the suggestion. There was something going on, in himself, something he didn't understand. All he knew was that it somehow had to do with the force of nature known as Jim Kirk.
"I insist. And you can't upset a pregnant woman, it's not good for her." Aurelan smiled and, reaching out, laid her hand on Spock's sleeve. "Please?"
He hesitated, but ultimately was unable to resist Aurelan's sincere appeal, or the sweet expectancy he felt every time he looked at Kirk. "Very well. But only as long as I am allowed to repay you in some way."
Sam laughed. "You shouldn't have said that. Aurelan has lots of projects she's just dying to have help with, don't you sweetie?" He took the woman's hand and Spock instinctively turned away. It reminded him too much of the ritual between his own mother and father. The bittersweet memory brought home once again all he had lost. It occurred to him that his estrangement from his own family could very well have influenced his decision to accept the Kirks' hospitality.
"Don't scare him off, Sam, or I'll have you doing them." She turned to Kirk. "He can bunk with you, can't he? I'll have Sam bring out the roll-away. There's plenty of room."
"Sure. No problem." The young man pushed away from the table, running his hands over his stomach. "That was great, Aurelan. I'm going to have to run twice as far to burn it off." He stood up. "Come on, Spock. The rain's slowed down enough. We can go get your things from the hotel room."
From Space of
Tranquility and Love by kira-nerys
The doors slid shut behind Kirk with a soft hissing sound as he entered the observation room. The place lay in shadows, and the only thing that could be heard was the hum of the engines far below. The noise was soothing, but not as familiar as he would have expected. It wasn't the sound of the old Enterprise, the one that had met its fate on Genesis. Even though he had served on this Enterprise on and off for the last seven years, this newer version of his silver lady wasn't really in his blood, or perhaps he was just getting old….
"Privacy lock," he murmured softly when he spotted the Vulcan standing by the window, no doubt waiting for him.
Even the windows of this Enterprise were still slightly odd to him, but a welcome change from the viewscreen. He enjoyed the opportunity to watch the stars as they streaked by. They seemed more real to him seen through the transparent aluminum of a window.
Kirk walked slowly toward his lover, savoring the moment. He hadn't seen Spock in more than two weeks, for the Vulcan had been on Earth for a teaching assignment while Kirk and the rest of the Enterprise crew had acted as shuttle service for a few diplomatic dignitaries.
Being alone with his lover again after such a long time was a welcome pleasure. He enjoyed the soft shine of Spock's black, silky hair in the light from the bright orange star they were just passing by. The stark beauty of the lean shape made Kirk feel like the luckiest person in the universe. Spock's skin reminded him of burnished copper in this light, and the sharp features were soft and filled with wonder. It seemed that the older Spock got, the more approachable he became. The sternness of his youth had transformed into a childish wonder at life. It was as though he had finally allowed the part of himself that was human to surface, and not keep himself under tight Vulcan control at all times. Especially when he was with Kirk.
Spock had crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against the window frame. His shadow stretched behind him on the carpeted floor.
"Beautiful, don't you agree?" Kirk whispered, not entirely sure if he was referring to the stars or to Spock as he wrapped his arms around the slim body. He rested his head on Spock's upper arm and rubbed his cheek against it, enjoying the warmth from the skin beneath the coarse maroon fabric of the Starfleet uniform.
"Yes, it is quite extraordinary," Spock agreed and tilted his head. "After so many years, I am still not quite used to the fathomless beauty of space. After being away for fifteen days, I find myself in awe once more."
"I don't think one ever gets used to it," Kirk agreed. "And I'm glad. If sentient beings ever grow tired of this, what else is there to explore?"
"You could never tire of space," Spock said, and the soft, affectionate smile he saved for Kirk alone lit his eyes. It never quite reached his mouth.
Their gazes held for a moment longer, and Kirk's stomach tightened in anticipation. He would never get used to this either, this closeness. Even after several years, the reality of their relationship seemed overwhelming at times. Kirk marveled that this precious being, so warm, so loyal and so loving, was really his life's partner, in all things. He only wished that they didn't have to be apart so often.
From Discovered by Deanna Grey
"You should have trusted me."
They stood silently, the long desk separating them shorter than the emotional distance that existed between them. To Spock, it was a distance that had begun months before and was now culminating in this confrontation.
"I do trust you, Jim. But in this matter you are being blinded by your emotions."
"Don't start talking logic, Spock. This isn't a logical situation."
"I understand your motivations regarding the Klingons, but they are dying. Can you truly say you wish an entire race of sentient beings to perish? We have the means to preserve them."
"They wouldn't do the same for us."
"That does not negate the fact that aiding them is the correct course of action. Years of cold war can be ended, Jim, without loss of life. Did not the Organians predict that the Federation and Klingon Empire would one day unite? Here is an opportunity to achieve that. Such an alliance may even persuade the Romulans to seek peace. Think of it, Jim: unification of our galaxy within our lifetime."
Kirk gave a short, bitter laugh. "You're a dreamer, Spock. You can't make peace with wild beasts."
Spock stared at his mate. "You do not mean that."
"Yes, I do, and I'm tired of you telling me what I think and what I should do. You had no right speaking for me and volunteering me and my ship for your personal crusade."
Anger rose in Spock. "It is not a crusade; it is an attempt to rescue another species and possibly bring true peace and order. If you would only—"
"Don't you dare try to tell me what to do."
"As a captain in Starfleet and as acting ambassador for this mission, you must set the proper example. At present, you are acting like a child."
Kirk bristled and Spock could barely resist the urge to step back.
"I'm acting like a child? What about you? You told me you were going to see your father, but instead you’re off cozying up to the Klingons. Not only was that childish, it was deceitful and cowardly."
"I did see my father; I informed you it was his wish that I speak with Chancellor Gorkon."
"You lied to me, Spock," Kirk snapped. "You lied about that whole trip. What else have you been lying about?"
Spock ignored Kirk's question, replying coldly, "While Sarek was the one who prompted me, I would have done so of my own accord. The opportunity—"
Kirk raised his hand. "I don't want to hear anymore, Spock. You lied, and got me into this…mess. I'm stuck with this mission and I can't do anything about it, so fine. I'll do my duty. But I'm warning you, don't you ever do anything like this again. Don't ever speak for me, or try to think for me, or volunteer me for anything again. Do you understand? I won't have it. I can think for myself."
"I never intended—"
"I don't give a shit what you intended," Kirk interrupted yet again. "When are we scheduled to leave?"
The sudden shift took Spock by surprise but his answer came automatically.
"Tomorrow morning at oh-nine-hundred."
"I'll see you then, Mister Spock."
"Jim?"
"You heard me. I don't want to see you right now, Spock. I'll give you two hours to get your things and get out. Don't be there when I get home."
Spock stiffened. "You wish me to move out of our apartment?"
"Yes, I do. Find a cabin for yourself on the ship as well, because I don’t want to share one with you."
"You wish to terminate our relationship over this? Because I wish to save a dying people?" Spock was incredulous, which only seemed to further anger Kirk.
"I can't be in a relationship with someone I can't trust, and you’ve proven time and again that I can’t trust you. I’m tired of it."
From A Tree for Two by I.M. Mueller
"Hey, Spock, let’s have a picnic. Bones says it's a wonderful planet down there, just what he recommended for the crew. And I for once am all set for a relaxing time." Captain Kirk was pleased to have caught Spock before he went to the science labs, where he'd been working the entire past week. He missed the Vulcan on the bridge.
"I am sorry, Captain, but we are in the midst of a breakthrough on the last component for the transformer." Spock looked at his captain more closely and saw that he seemed fatigued and rather forlorn at the refusal. "But I will be able to accompany you in forty-six minutes, if you would like to go then," he amended, mentally rescheduling all the tests which did not need his immediate attention.
Kirk’s face lit up again, and he grinned at his first officer. "That will give me more time to pack a picnic basket. I’ll meet you at the transporter."
"Very well, Captain," Spock answered with a little nod. He observed the once again light steps of Kirk as he went on his way.
The last weeks had been exhausting for all the crew, especially for the captain. Kirk had worked night and day negotiating peace between the two planets of Alcove, until Starfleet had finally sent an ambassador to take over. Their next assignment had been to investigate this recently-discovered planet in the Alfa-Zeta quadrant to determine whether it was suitable for settlement for colonists.
¤¤¤¤
"This is a bit hard to get used to, isn’t it? Red sky, blue grass, rust-colored trees, and green water. At least the water isn't so strange," Kirk chuckled when they beamed down exactly forty-six minutes later.
"Unusual, although the sky reminds me of Vulcan," Spock answered. He relieved Kirk of their heavy picnic lunch and wondered where Kirk had managed to find an old-fashioned basket. He examined the real wood from which it was artistically made.
"What about that place over there under that huge tree? It's been ages since I went on a picnic. What about you, Spock?"
"I am certain that I never have been on one until now."
From Though the Stars May Fade by Islaofhope
The smile was still on Kirk's face when his door slid open again.
"Hello, Jim." Gary Pulaski, the chief of field training at the academy and Spock's new superior officer, stood in the doorway.
Kirk rose and extended his hand in welcome. "Hello, Gary. What can I do for you?"
Pulaski engulfed Kirk's hand in a fierce grip. "I just wanted to let you know that the change of command ceremony has been moved up to tomorrow morning."
"Oh?" Kirk perched himself on the edge of his desk. "I've been looking at tapes of other ceremonies, trying to decide what to say, but I thought Spock had another week before the Enterprise would be ready."
"He's amazing, you know!" Pulaski exclaimed. "I was steamed at you when you whisked him off for a vacation right after his promotion ceremony, but even after losing over a week, he's ahead of schedule." Pulaski shrugged. "I know that we intended little more than a routine cruise, but some members of the diplomatic corps have requested a lift, and the Enterprise is the only starship that's available."
Kirk made a sound of annoyance that conveyed precisely how he felt about using a starship to ferry diplomats, but Pulaski ignored it. "Anyway, Captain Spock assured me that he and his cadets would be ready, and your admin confirmed your availability tomorrow for the change of command ceremony." He hesitated. "You are ready to give her up, aren't you?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Kirk smiled, crossing his arms on his chest.
Pulaski grinned. "You gave her up a decade ago, but you got her back."
Kirk shrugged. "She's still in the family."
"I'd heard that Vulcan bondmates were considered one legal entity." Pulaski looked uncertain. "But I doubt that a ship can have two captains."
"I wasn't serious about that," Kirk said firmly. "Spock is the captain of the Enterprise now. He doesn't consult me for advice on discharging his command responsibilities."
"Legally, he won't be captain until after the change of command ceremony." Pulaski rested one hand on the doorframe. "Jim, I actually had some doubts when it didn't take place immediately following his promotion. I wondered if you had changed your mind about giving her up."
"We had to delay it for medical reasons," Kirk said quickly. He had thought that anyone could guess that they had disappeared because of Spock's pon farr, but apparently Pulaski didn't know much about Vulcan physiology.
Pulaski frowned. "You both seem fine now."
"We are." Kirk smiled and stood up, extending his hand again. "Thanks for dropping by, Gary."
"I can take a hint. I'm going." Pulaski took Kirk's hand and shook it. "See you tomorrow, Jim."
"Good night, Gary."
As soon as the door closed behind Pulaski, Kirk tapped his comm. "Mr. Gailbraith, I'm going home for the evening. If you can't find that vid—"
"Found it, sir. I've piped it to your commcode."
"I'll look at it at home." He grabbed his uniform jacket off the hook and walked out into the outer office. "You can leave, too, Lieutenant."
"Good night, Admiral."
"Good night, Lieutenant." He walked briskly down the corridor, hurried down the stairs, and opened the door into the unseasonably warm—for San Francisco—late afternoon.
From Dawn by Jenna Hilary Sinclair
I….
I am….
I….
A woman's voice, low and concerned. "Spock?"
The word comes from a great distance away, years and parsecs away, and it carries no knowledge of who I am. No one can know who I am. I do not know. And if I do not know, how can anyone else tell me?
Again, insistent this time. "Spock."
I perceive that I am expected to respond. In this endless night, this dark and terrifying world in which I have cowered and yet survived for ages, response has not been possible for as long as I can remember. Nevertheless, I attempt it. But there is a part of me that is still so far distant. It is enshrouded by that awful mystery, and it pulls me down, back into itself, though I do not want to go. Wearily, I return to the struggle.
I….
I am….
I am so tired. I have been fighting and fighting and fighting, but I do not know what I am opposing or why. There had been a time, I am suddenly sure, when I did not exist in the dark and I did not constantly fight. Even recently…. An image comes to me: a long and pulsating tunnel, beckoning, and a gentle push from behind to take the journey from here to there. The push somehow had a familiar tone. "Go on now, get back where you belong." I traversed the expanse, though it had been difficult and terrifying and I had lost my way many times. And that was how I came to be…where I am. A place where response might be possible, and there are words besides my screaming.
Another voice, deeper. "How is McCoy, T'Lar?"
"Indications are that he will recover with his sanity intact. Your son, however, is not responsive."
"He has endured much. Perhaps some time is required."
"Wisely spoken, Sarek. Your conclusions match my own. A katra transfer to a living body is unprecedented. No one can tell whether memory and personality will join to produce a semblance of the being once known as your son. You have caused us to enact a great experiment." There is a rustle of cloth and a sigh. "However, I am no longer part of it. I have done what you asked. Rehabilitation, of whatever sort, is healer's work. Sirard."
Another man's voice. "I am here, T'Lar."
"He is yours."
I travel a long road of silence. Or perhaps not. I am in another space, apart. And yet, there is no pain. A curiosity, to exist without the tearing apart. Ah. What I had been fighting for. To remain intact.
I contemplate that for a while, until I hear words that I do not always understand.
"Sarek, it will be as we agreed."
"Of course, Healer. I ask only the best for Spock."
"Then ask the admiral to join us. He has been with McCoy, but now his place is here."
Sounds: the whisper of wind, a clash of metal against rock. What I perceive as…footsteps? Hurried. Another voice. "Healer Sirard, what do you want me to do?"
"Perhaps much. Wait and observe. I will instruct you according to circumstances.
From Slow Spring, a novella by Katherine Cooke.
Spock had come to view this meeting with Kirk as unavoidable. It must simply be endured before he could take the next step away from his pain and go to Gol, the only refuge from his remorse. He would cleanse his vileness in the pitiless desert of his homeworld until he had attained Kholinar or died in the attempt. Spock clung to the thread of hope this plan represented.
During Spock's rehabilitation here on Aldebaran Three, T'Seth had helped him rebuild his shields and re-establish the mind rules so he could function, superficially. He was even able to repress his awareness of the void of despair within so it no longer dominated his waking hours. If he could make the journey to his homeworld and throw himself on the mercy of the masters, perhaps, one day, he might again call himself Vulcan. Until then, he was nothing.
He waited in the quiet lounge at the Vulcan Center—when this meeting was arranged, T'seth had assured him of complete privacy. Kirk entered and Spock strengthened his shields effectively against the impact of the dynamic aura. He was able to look at the human objectively. Kirk wore dark clothes. His hair was neatly cut, his face had aged and he was considerably underweight. He projected only calm and Spock noted, as often before, that humans were also capable of shielding when they chose.
Kirk stopped a short distance away. Spock answered his quiet, "Hello, Spock," with a slight bow, then acknowledged, "Captain," belatedly. Kirk did not react to that faint hesitation. He was gesturing to the seats behind Spock.
"Let's talk."
Spock sat down opposite Kirk. He still could not read the human's level gaze but was aware of Kirk's intense concentration. "Are you well?" Kirk asked gently.
"Quite well. And you?" Spock knew he'd answered too quickly and loudly.
"Fine." A little ironic tilt to his mouth. After a moment Kirk straightened his shoulders and said, "Spock, the Enterprise will be back in a week. When she leaves here I want you aboard as my first officer."
"You received notification of my resignation?"
"Yes, I did. I'm assuming it's a reaction to what happened on Xon, and I'm asking you to reconsider."
So calm. Spock could only admire Kirk's restraint.
"I am resolved to undertake the Kholinar discipline on Vulcan. I cannot return to Starfleet duty." It was harder to say than Spock had anticipated, as though he were inflicting yet another wound on Kirk.
"Why?"
Spock stared at him in consternation. Surely his motivation was obvious—Kirk couldn't expect Spock to articulate his crimes. He blinked and reached for discipline, determined to give a logical exposition.
"My reasons are these: First, I have committed atrocities while affected by amnesia and must correct the fault that made me capable of such actions. Second, Vulcan ethics require that I atone for my crimes. Third, I must remove myself from influences which might affect the part of my nature capable of unthinking and destructive passions."
"Influences? You mean me," Kirk said sadly.
"You cannot truly desire my presence in your life after…what I did to you." Spock checked himself. He must not feel, must not hope, must not ask Jim for forgiveness, even obliquely. For, of course, Jim would have the nobility to offer it.
Kirk was looking at him with a slight smile lifting the corner of his mouth. "I do want you with me. I'm asking."
Spock dropped his gaze. "I cannot." He did not trust himself to say more. He used the long silence that fell between them to reinforce his control. Had he thought this meeting would be simple? He was a fool.
Kirk stood and paced to the end of the room. He looked out of the window and said in a casual tone, "They won't give me back command unless you return to the Enterprise with me."
The blow struck home—a double blow. Never in all the years Spock had known him had Jim Kirk stooped to emotional blackmail. Spock would have said he was incapable of it. Had Spock brought him to this?
"I do not understand why Starfleet would make such a condition."
Kirk laughed bleakly. "They think I need you." He turned. "They're right." He crossed back to Spock and his eyes were glowing. Spock recognised the captain he knew so well—the will that would not be denied, the flair that led to victory. "Do you know what else? I think you need me, too." He was standing over Spock and he touched his shoulder. Spock pulled away, rose and turned his back on this human nemesis, the focus of his pain. Jim was speaking tenderly now, beguiling. "You're feeling guilty about what happened, but the answer's not to run away from it. Come home with me, Spock, and we'll cope with it together. I'm ready to give you everything, unconditionally. I love you." His voice shook.
"I enslaved, tortured, and debauched you. Haven't you had enough?" Spock retorted, the deliberate bluntness forcing Kirk to retreat. Spock heard him sit down heavily, and silence fell between them for a full two minutes.
"So that's your answer?"
Spock turned. Kirk sat looking at his hands, shoulders bowed, and Spock felt sorrow stab through him. To hurt Jim so…certainly this pain would be unendurable if he had to see him daily. "I am sorry, Jim," he said as gently as he could, "I have nothing of value to offer you. My guilt is insupportable, and atonement at Gol is the only path open to me. I am sorry."
Kirk leaned back in the chair with a sigh. There was a deep frown line between his eyes. After a while he looked up at Spock and his expression was quite cold.
"I suppose by 'atonement' you are not referring to the Vulcan concept of N'Velx?"
Spock's eyes widened in shock and he took two rapid breaths in succession. Kirk's gaze was unwavering.
"You know of N'Velx?"
"I know I need you with me on the Enterprise, that Gol would be a terrible choice for you, might even destroy you, and that N'Velx removes your choice." He stood and said in Vulcan, "I invoke N'Velx for the wrong you have done me, and for your life which I have preserved. I claim the Debt."
Spock felt the void crack open within him, the solace of Kholinar a fading dream. He did not even question the human's right, knew he owed Jim everything. He swallowed hard before he could return the ritual words. "I accept your claim on the Debt owed and place my life in your hands, yours to command until you release me."
"I hope someday you will be able to forgive me."
Spock heard Jim's words from far away, knew when he left by the footsteps and the door swishing closed, but he saw nothing. Only an image of his wretched life stretching ahead as he dragged his ugliness through the days.
¤¤¤¤
Nyota Uhura hummed contentedly to herself as she carried out the morning's routine checks. She and Lieutenant Zeta were both on shift early this morning. Relatively empty, the bridge was quiet. Sulu yawned and stretched in the command chair.
"I'm ready for dinner."
"What, at breakfast time?" Uhura teased. Sulu was temporarily assigned to Delta Shift while he took a turn training junior crewmen. He was finding the time adjustment a trial.
"I'll take breakfast, dinner or lunch, so long as it's steak and fries. What brought you up here so early anyway?"
"Ah, now you agree it's early," she smiled. "I'm re-calibrating communications to take care of the interference we're likely to get once we enter the nebula."
She turned back to her board, humming the song Spock had taught her a few days ago, when she, Spock and Zeta had been rehearsing together. It was a sad little tune, but rather lovely accompanied by Zeta's flute.
Uhura was worried about Spock. It was obvious to her that something devastating had happened to him, McCoy and the captain on the Xon mission. They'd spent three months in debriefing on Aldebaran, which was unusual, and rejoined the ship just a few weeks ago. Each one of them had come back subtly changed. Among them, Spock seemed the most lost of all. Outwardly, he had softened. He was noticeably responsive to the humans around him. That Vulcan rigidity had gone and he seemed, to Uhura's perceptive eye, to be gentler with others than ever before. And yet, there was something deeply troubling under the surface—an impression of suffering worse, far worse, than during the years when she knew he'd been lonely.
It was typical of Spock, Uhura reflected with affection, that pain would make him even more considerate. Where it would bring out the worst in most people, it seemed to ennoble this man.
The atmosphere on the bridge was transformed as Alpha Shift relieved Delta. Sulu relinquished the con to Kirk, whose energy seemed to light the room. Uhura felt the frisson of it, banishing her earlier thoughts, making her suddenly feel more alive. She wondered how he did it. Did he splash on charisma with his cologne each morning?
Things started happening almost at once. "Captain, sensors picking up an object bearing mark four-eight," Spock said.
The command chair swiveled. "A ship? On screen, please."
A maelstrom of colour filled the screen. Streams of gold and azure, cloudy purples and a translucent net of stars hung across light years of space before them. The Gorecki nebula was the largest of its kind in this remote sector of the galaxy, on the fringes of Federation space. Uhura drank in the wild beauty of it, while automatically searching the wave bands for any local signal. She screened out static from the nebula with practised ease.
"Object is a small starship. Appears disabled—she's drifting." Spock consulted his readouts. "Identity unknown to Federation. Reading massive power failure. Life support intact."
"Life signs?" Kirk was out of his seat and peering over Spock's shoulder at the data. Uhura knew he could read it nearly as well as Spock—it just took him longer to interpret. He was one of few humans who could do it without feeding it through the computer first.
Spock looked up at him and Uhura saw something pass between them. Not unusual in itself—she'd watched them communicate like that for years. But today she saw Kirk draw back suddenly and Spock look away.
"Life-form readings…non-human carbon based forms…six distinct entities. Signs failing…." Kirk was back at the command chair. Spock looked at him. "Life signs growing weaker, Captain. They are dying."
"Hail them, Uhura."
"Already trying, sir. No response."
He hit a switch. "Transporter room. Kyle, can you get a fix on the aliens?"
"Sorry, sir. Too much interference from damaged instrumentation in that part of the ship."
"Can we beam a team over?"
"To another section of that ship, yes, Captain," said Kyle.
Kirk was up and moving. "Uhura: medical team and security detail to the transporter room. Mr. Spock, take the con."