A NOTE ON THE TEXT

This is something very light that I wrote years ago, which seemed to be appreciated. I think it's an example of the 'Mary-Sue' school of fan fiction, but it is just for fun and NOT meant to be taken seriously (think Tribbles, not City on the Edge.) Apologies to any REAL Trekkies for any undoubted technical mistakes!

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

CHAPTER TWO – SALLY

When Kirk finally came to, fighting up through layers of pain, two facts immediately presented themselves for his inspection. One was that he had absolutely the worst headache of his life. The other was that he was in his own cabin, in his own bed. He groaned and tried to sit up.

'No, you don't, sir.' A hand tipped him expertly back into a horizontal position and then a hypo hissed against his arm. Kirk recognised the voice and tried, unsuccessfully, to focus his eyes.

'M'Benga? What am I doing here?'

'Dr. McCoy thought it best to remove you from the immediate vicinity, sir. Until Sally… er, calmed down.'

'Sally? Is that her name?' The headache was receding. Kirk sat up again and this time, was permitted to stay up. 'How is she?'

'Alive and kicking,' M'Benga responded, very dryly. Kirk noted the tone, but was too pre-occupied to pay it much attention.

'How long was I out?'

'Five hours, captain.'

'Five! What have I missed?'

'Dr. McCoy can tell you more about it than I can. When he was sure you were out of danger he left me here to watch you and I've been here ever since. I'll just let him know you've come round…'

He went over to the intercom and Kirk sat back, trying to put his brain into some kind of order. His last clear memory was that of taking Sally's hand in that instinctive attempt to quell the panic that was threatening to engulf both himself and his crew. Everything after that was pretty much a blur, but he still remembered enough to make him shudder. The sheer physical agony of her entry into his mind had been bad enough. His only previous experience of linking minds had been with Spock, who was guarded the extreme, careful never to intrude further than Kirk was willing to allow; thus he had been totally unprepared for the surge of raw power and the alien presence that was Sally inside his brain. In that blind extremity, she had ripped passed every layer of self-protection, forced her way deeply into his consciousness and yet he knew that there had been no

vindictiveness in her actions, no intention to cause him pain. She had seen him simply as a refuge from her own nightmares.

Sally, a telepath, had felt her planet died. Five hundred thousand people had died in agony and she had suffered it with all of them. Those were the memories she had carried with her into all the years of sleep…

Kirk's cabin door swept open and McCoy charged in, aiming his scanner at Kirk before he was half-way towards him. M'Benga left quietly.

'Hmm, better than I expected. For a moment back there, we really didn't think you were going to make it. That thick skull of yours must have saved you. No, don't get up, Jim…'

'The hell with that,' Kirk said, getting up. He was agreeably surprised to find that his legs actually supported his weight. He shrugged on his uniform and added, 'I've been unconscious for five hours and I can't find out what's going on by lying on my butt. What's the situation?'

'We're still in orbit round Staxis. Five of our patients are alive and out of danger. Scott's got the conn and everything's under control.'

'Where's Spock?'

'With Sally.'

Kirk punched up two cups of strong coffee, gave one to McCoy and sat down at his desk, motioning the doctor to do the same.

'Let's have the story, Bones.'

McCoy sighed and ran a hand that shook slightly through his hair.

'God, what a day. Okay, here goes.

'When you collapsed, Spock dragged you away and told M'Benga to get you out of there. He looked like death, Jim, and you did too; I've never been so scared in my life. Sally'd sort of levelled out into a kind of high-pitched whine, if you can imagine what I mean,' Kirk nodded grimly; he could, 'so I guess you must have done some good. Anyway, it was almost bearable. Spock sent me off to look after you – come to think of it, I must have been more upset than I realised, letting that damn Vulcan order me about in my own Sickbay – and while I was gone he got into mind-meld with her. They were getting the vibrations all over the ship; we were pretty damn close to a collective nervous breakdown, what with half the crew rampaging into Sickbay to find out what was going on, the other half yelling over the comm-links and all the systems going haywire…'

'What?'

'Oh, didn't I mention it? She's telekinetic, too,' McCoy said gloomily. 'Quite a talented lady.'

'So it would seem,' Kirk said, wondering how many other 'talents' this lady had up her sleeve and how dangerous they might be. 'Any damage?'

'Only to everybody's nerves. You're lucky. You were out of it. Anyway, when I got back from making sure that you weren't as dead as you looked, Spock had managed to calm her down but we decided we'd have to wake her up, and fast. Spock seemed to think that even the minimal control she might have if she were conscious would be enough to protect most of us, even if she did panic again. So I shot her full of stimulant, and crossed my fingers. We might easily have lost her, bringing her out of it that fast. But it worked.' McCoy stopped to draw breath and gave Kirk a very direct look. 'I don't know how Spock stood it, you know. She must have been in contact with him all the time, even when she'd got below the level the rest of us could hear.'

'Is he all right?'

'How would I know? Spock wouldn't admit it to me if she'd blown his mind apart like a laser cannon. All I can tell you is that he's looking more Vulcan by the minute.'

'Probably just maintaining his blocks against her, Bones. His own disciplines must give him some protection against her, you know.'

'Maybe,' McCoy said enigmatically.

'What happened when she woke up?' Kirk asked.

'Well, I tell you, Jim, I was more than prepared to have a raving lunatic on our hands, considering what she must have gone through. But she just lay there, staring at the ceiling for about ten minutes. I think she was reading us. Checking us out. In fact, I'm certain that's what she was doing because when she started talking she certainly seemed to know who we were and where she was.'

'So you did get something verbal out of her?'

'Too true,' McCoy replied, a little sourly, ' she hasn't stopped talking since. She sat up and demanded food, drink, clothes and make-up, in that order. I think she's perfectly healthy but I haven't been able to do a full run of tests yet.'

'Why not?' Kirk wanted to know.

'Because she wouldn't sit still long enough,' McCoy said, with the air of one making a confession much against his will. 'And when I tried to make her, my scanner exploded. Not a co-incidence, I suspect.'

Kirk stared at him for a moment and then began to laugh. After a few stunned seconds, McCoy joined in and soon the two of then were leaning on each other's shoulders, tears streaming down their cheeks, feeling the tensions of the day relax as the nerve-racking events of the day dissolved into a chuckling harmony.

'God, I needed that,' McCoy said eventually, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. 'I tell you, I've never met anyone quite like her and I honestly don't know what to make of her. Anyway, you'll see what I mean in a minute. I told Spock to meet us here at 18.00.'

The door opened and Kirk stood to meet Sally Kilsyth for the first time.

She literally blazed into the cabin. Asleep, she had been beautiful; awake, she was beyond words.

She had the colouring of a Celt, red hair and violet eyes and the pale skin of one whose ancestors had been born under cloudy northern skies. Vitality radiated from her and turned the vague clumsiness of her movements into the promise of an elegance to come. He was surprised to find her eyes almost on a level with his own; the fragile bones were misleading, had made her seem smaller. She had been given a standard issue jumpsuit to wear but not even the plain fabric and the basic cut could disguise the fact that her figure was breathtaking.

In subsequent years Kirk tried many times, and failed, to adequately describe Sally to those who had not met her. He could detail the glorious eyes, the full and generous mouth, the sculptured perfection of her face, the honey-smooth skin – all these were capable of depiction easily enough. But most of her splendour was due to that elusive quality, personality, which gave life to something that, without it, would have had all the warmth and soul of a living statue.

Several moments after she entered the room, it registered that she was talking to him; to his mind. Soothing nerves she had damaged, caressing with sympathy where before she had clung like fire. On some level there was apology and regret for the pain she had caused him; on another, an appreciation of his awareness of her, a critical appraisal of his masculinity, a certain satisfaction at being in the presence of male animals again.

McCoy broke in dryly, verbally.

'Sally, you do realise this is coming through loud and clear to everyone in the vicinity? It's hardly decent for third parties.'

'I concur,' Spock said, in the most Vulcan tone. It was a measure of Kirk's absorption that he had not even seen him come in.

'Well, well,' McCoy drawled, 'Spock and I finally agree on something. Sally Kilsyth, meet Captain James T Kirk. Now, sit down and shut up. Telepathically, at least. It's too much to expect that you'll stop talking as well, I suppose.'

'Far too much,' Sally replied, grinning at him. 'Is that coffee? Can I have some? And is there food? Can that silly machine produce cake and biscuits? Oh, can it do éclairs? And maybe a butterscotch sundae?'

'Spock, you were supposed to stop by the galley,' McCoy said accusingly, as Kirk went over to the wall to programme in coffee and ice cream.

'We did, Doctor. In the past three hours Miss Kilsyth has consumed three bowls of tomato soup, a large steak, several pounds of French fries, two pints of milk and half of a chocolate cake,' Spock replied politely.

'I haven't eaten for two hundred years,' Sally retorted unarguably, 'and you forgot about the apple, the banana and the peach. I believe in eating healthily. Thanks, Jim,' she added, accepting her ice cream with glee and inserting a huge spoonful into her mouth, which did at least have the temporary effect of silencing her.

Not 'Captain', he noted, but Jim. She was behaving as if she had known him all her life. Sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking round her with an air of enquiry between spoonfuls, she seemed quite at ease, treating both himself and McCoy with no lack of respect but rather an overwhelming warmth that disregarded rank and age.

Kirk threw a glance at Spock, still standing by the door as if reluctant to approach her too closely. He looked haggard. Kirk wished, not for the first time, that Spock could find a way of releasing the appalling tensions of that day. Easy enough for Kirk and McCoy to indulge in laughter that was only one step away from tears; more than impossible for Spock.

Sally was talking to McCoy with a lilting accent that he recognised, and in a moment he found out why.

'I was born on Staxis, but my father was a Scot.'

'I thought the accent was familiar. Our Chief Engineer is a Scot.'

'Montgomery Scott, aka Scotty. I know,' Sally said, drinking her coffee in four mighty gulps. Her empty cup rose from the table and cartwheeled gently across the room to the waste disposal. 'Do I really have an accent?'

'It's faint, but it's there,' McCoy said, watching the cup's progress with a professional eye. 'Don't you think, Jim?'

'What? Oh, yes. Definitely,' replied Kirk, thinking that if McCoy wasn't going to comment then he wouldn't either. 'So, Sally Kilsyth, what do you think of the 'Enterprise'?'

'Haven't seen very much of her yet. I did ask, but Spock wouldn't show me round.'

Kirk looked at Spock, who said blandly,

'I thought you would prefer to do the honours, sir. In any case, I had something more urgent to attend to.'

'Which was?'

'I gave Miss Kilsyth some elementary instruction in Vulcan mind control techniques, Captain.' Sally made a small sound that sounded suspiciously like a snort. Spock shot her a look that, despite his expressionless face, was full of disapproval, and continued, 'Hardly sufficient of course, but a start must be made. Otherwise life would be… difficult. For all of us.'

'That's a masterly piece of understatement, Spock,' McCoy said.

Kirk was watching Sally and said nothing because he knew that Spock was not telling them all of the truth. He was aware, none better, of what Sally had gone through, yet here she was, quite obviously not in any kind of distress. Spock, on the other hand, had the bearing of a man who had been dragged through an emotional mangle half a dozen times in quick succession. He suspected that Spock had used the meld with Sally to help her adjust to her memories and he also suspected that the Vulcan would never admit it. His reasons would have been quite logical, of course. A telepath in a state of severe emotional stress was not going to be an asset on board the 'Enterprise'; Kirk was not yet sure whether a telepath in any state would be.

Sally had eaten everything and was becoming impatient; as a result, cups and plates started dancing on the tabletop.

'Bones,' said Kirk, staring, 'am I hallucinating?'

'No,' said McCoy briefly. 'Stop showing off, Sally.'

'I can't help it,' Sally muttered, as everything fell back into place with a clatter.

'Concentration is all that is needed, Miss Kilsyth,' Spock said sternly.

'Will somebody please tell me how she does that?' Kirk asked.

'It is a purely automatic reflex, Captain,' Spock explained. 'When Miss Kilsyth's attention is distracted – which it all too frequently is – she loses control of her telekinetic power.'

'I can do it deliberately, too,' Sally protested. 'But it takes such a lot of thought . Anyway, no-body knew enough about it in my day to even begin to help me understand how to control it.'

'Well, we know more about it now,' McCoy said cheerfully, ' and one of the first things on your agenda, young lady, is for me to find out just what makes that remarkable brain of yours tick. If you can manage to remain static for more than a minute or two, I'll take you back to Sickbay and run you through a Sigmund, and then you'd better have a full physical along with the rest of the survivors.'

'Hmmm. Doesn't sound terribly exciting to me. Don't I get a say in my agenda?'

'Not until Dr. McCoy has satisfied his medical curiosity, you don't. Standard procedure is to run a full physical on anyone boarding a starship, no exceptions,' Kirk said.

Sally leaned her elbows on his desk, cupped her chin in her hands and gazed soulfully at him. Her eyes were impossibly large and her lashes were black, thick and very long. She said,

'I'd rather see round the ship.'

Kirk said warily, keeping the tone light, ' You don't have a choice, I'm afraid. It won't take long.'

'I don't particularly care how long it will take,' Sally snapped back.

'Now look here, young woman,' McCoy growled, keeping his temper in check with an obvious effort, 'on this ship, my medical authority is final!'

'Authority?' she shrieked. 'You don't have any authority over me!' She bounced to her feet in one fluid movement and starting to pace around the room. Even her hair seemed to flow with agitation and rage. 'How dare you order me about like this? I didn't ask to be hauled up here and have machines doing God knows what to me and have needles stuck in my arm…'

'Dr. McCoy's hypodermics do not use needles,' Spock said precisely, 'they use a form of pressurisation…'

'Don't interrupt me!' Sally yelled, working her way well over the top at full speed. 'If you think that saving my life entitles you to run my life, you have another think coming. I won't be dictated to, I won't!'

And Kirk laughed.

He could not help himself. He should have been worried, should have thought what might happen if a telepath as powerful as she was decided to let rip. But somehow he knew, with a bedrock certainty, that she was dramatising for the sheer spectacle of it, and enjoying it hugely.

'Behave yourself. Right now,' he said, and knew that he would be obeyed.

Sally glared at him through narrowed eyes for a couple of seconds. Then she shrugged and said, 'Okay. After the good doctor has finished turning me inside out, can I see the ship?

'You have a certain single-mindedness that might be admirable under other circumstances, Sally. Sounds like a fair deal to me. How long will your tests take, Bones?'

'About an hour, Jim.' McCoy's brows were still lowered as he contemplated their disruptive guest. 'Providing we don't have any more scenes like that one…'

'Don't you scowl at me,' said Sally, scenting battle.

'Sally, enough. I'll come and rescue you in about an hour.'

'That's all very well,' McCoy muttered darkly as they left together, 'but I suspect I'm the one who's going to need rescuing.'

Spock, whose face during Sally's outburst had worn the most peculiar expression Kirk had ever seen on it – a sort of blend of censure and displeasure, combined with a certain air of not believing what he was seeing – now met Kirk's look of amusement with a stony stare. The lines of disapproval did not abate.

'I saw nothing in that disgraceful display to smile at, Captain,' he said severely.

'No, Mr Spock,' Kirk agreed. 'I did, however, get the impression that Sally was having the time of her life.'

'I do not for one moment doubt that she was, sir,' Spock replied repressively. 'It was still a most undisciplined performance.'

'Yes, Mr Spock,' Kirk said, giving up. He did not feel equal to the task of explaining to Spock that the whole scene had meant nothing; that Sally had just wanted an excuse to rant and rave and generally make an exhibition of herself. That, it seemed, was her escape valve.

Kirk turned away from Spock to check in with the Bridge and instruct Uhura to send details of the six survivors to Starbase 11. When he next looked at Spock, the Vulcan appeared more like his normal self.

'Well, Mr Spock, you're the expert on telepathy. What's your professional opinion of the lady?'

'I would hardly class myself as an expert, Captain,' Spock replied, predictably enough. 'However, even I can see that she is a telepath of unique power. Normal telepaths can, to use the vernacular, 'read' minds but it does require considerable effort, or physical contact in the case of a touch telepath like myself. Miss Kilsyth can not only pick up thoughts without any effort, she can transmit also. In fact, she does not seem to be able to help doing so.' An expression of near-revulsion crossed his face but it was gone so quickly Kirk could not be sure that he hadn't imagined it. 'To put it in simple terms, Miss Kilsyth is a living communications centre. With no off-switch.'

'Yes,' Kirk said dryly, 'I'd noticed that. Can you train her?'

'In three weeks?' Spock's left eyebrow disappeared into his hairline. 'The Vulcan mind control technique is a lifetime discipline, Captain. Even the most basic methods can take years to learn.'

'Yes, I appreciate that,' Kirk said, rubbing his nose thoughtfully, 'but there must be something you can do, Spock. To put it bluntly, there has to be. Sally can go up like a rocket as often as she likes for all I care, but I can't have another episode like this morning. You did say you'd given her some elementary instruction already…'

'Very elementary, sir,' the Vulcan said stiffly. 'I shall do my best, of course, if you request it. However, reflex telepathy is something almost totally outwith my experience. I am not even sure whether control techniques developed for touch telepaths will adapt for these circumstances. In fact, since she must ultimately be trained by a reflex telepath, I may conceivably do more harm than good.'

Kirk did not reply at once. He knew he must voice the suspicion that had been growing in him since Spock had first entered the room but he did not know how to do it without causing offence or, perhaps worse still, embarrassment. He had always guarded most carefully against intruding into Spock's private life, never asking questions that might be construed as requests for personal information, always waiting until Spock himself was ready to volunteer a confidence.

Sally had altered the whole scenario. She seemed to have the ability to encroach directly into the Vulcan's mind and Kirk was pretty certain she had already done so. He said carefully, feeling his way,

'I'm sorry if I'm asking too much of you. I know very little about telepathy but I do know that Sally must be controlled somehow. Are we agreed so far?'

'Unquestionably.' The Vulcan had placed his hands palms down on the desk and was steadfastly regarding them.

'And that you are the only person on board capable of attempting to teach her to do just that.'

'Also agreed, Captain. I do not deny it. I merely doubt the efficaciousness of such a project.'

'It's more than that,' Kirk said softly, 'isn't it?'

There was a long silence. Then, without raising his eyes, Spock said,

'Captain, Miss Kilsyth has an undisciplined, emotional and totally illogical mind. To instruct her, our minds would have to… touch. I do not find that an agreeable prospect. She…'

He was having obviously difficulty in explaining what he meant, but Kirk had no problems understanding. He had found Sally's violent presence in his mind an intrusive and humiliating sensation, and it was not an experience he would willingly repeat. Even her gentle presence later had been disconcerting, since she had picked up as much from him as he had from her. Bad enough for him, who was used to making no secret of his emotions.

Appalling for Spock.

Spock continued, as if it was a relief to be finally making the confession,

'I do not believe I could maintain my blocks against her in that situation. I am already having difficulty.'

This was worse, far worse than Kirk had imagined. He said uselessly,

'I'm very sorry, Mr Spock. Is she aware of the extent of the problem?'

'She could hardly be otherwise,' Spock pointed out. 'I should say, in all justice, that she is not deliberately attempting to access my thoughts. But even she does not realise the power she has at her command.'

'Ye..es,' Kirk said thoughtfully, 'which brings me to another point. Her telekinetic power. Is it dangerous?'

'I think not,' the Vulcan said. There was a slight hesitation in his voice that Kirk pounced on at once.

'But you're not sure, are you? You don't know.'

'No,' Spock admitted reluctantly, 'I don't know. Captain, I have never met a telepath with such strength. I have no way of measuring exactly what she is capable of. I am, however, fairly certain that she does not have the ability to create objects, or change their molecular structure. She can merely manipulate them.'

'Then let us be grateful for small mercies. Your recommendations?'

'She must go to Vulcan eventually: we are the only race who possess an advanced telepathic training school. But she cannot,' this very emphatically, 'be sent to Vulcan in her present untutored state.'

'No,' Kirk agreed, repressing a shudder at the thought of the volatile Sally bursting on to Vulcan. 'I'll send a request to Starbase 11 for a reflex telepath to meet her on arrival. And while she's here…'

'I will attempt to instruct her, Captain, of course.' Spock raised his eyes for the first time in that conversation and Kirk was shocked at the haunted expression in them.

'Spock, if there was any other way…'

'I quite understand, sir. I shall do what is required.'

Kirk decided against offering any further sympathy for the moment, as it would probably discompose Spock even further. However, he made up his mind then and there that Sally would have to be put out of action somehow if Spock were to show many more signs of strain. He did not particularly want to do something so drastic, but Spock was his First Officer – and his friend. He could not afford to have qualms where Spock's mental health was concerned.

'Well, we can't very well chuck her overboard, so we'll have to ride with the dilemma for the moment. I'll see if the lady herself has any suggestions to offer.' He rubbed at a muscle at the back of his neck; he was beginning to feel as if he'd been through a very long workout with at least four Vulcans. 'How long before I collect her from McCoy?'

'22.25 minutes, sir,' Spock said, precise as always.

'Good, I've just got time for a shower. I want you and McCoy to meet me in the Briefing Room at 21.00 tonight.'

Spock nodded and headed for the door as Kirk went to the intercom, intending to call Uhura and instruct her to place the call for a telepath to Starbase 11. As his finger touched the button, the floor seemed to heave sideways. Spock staggered but kept his balance; Kirk was thrown, not lightly, to the floor.

Every alarm on the ship started screaming.

The jolt could have been nothing less than a direct phaser hit. Kirk rolled to his knees, cursing fluently.

'We're under attack! Why the devil didn't Scott call me…'

Spock was bending over him, putting down a hand to help his captain to his feet.

'Miss Kilsyth,' he said succinctly.

McCoy's voice came over the intercom at that moment, exasperation in the tone.

'McCoy to Captain and crew. No-body panic, please. Scotty, turn those damn things off!' The alarms wailed for another two or three seconds, then died abruptly. 'My patient took exception to one of my tests. She is extremely apologetic and says it won't happen again.' His inflexion did not seem to hold out much hope of that.

'Which test, I wonder?' Kirk said, before he could help himself. He glanced at Spock's stony face, flipped the intercom toggle and said, 'McCoy, I'm on my way down.'

He and Spock headed out into the corridor. They parted at the elevator, and, as the doors swept open for him, Kirk said,

'She's going to be a problem, Spock.'

'Yes, sir,' the Vulcan said expressionlessly, 'she is.'

Kirk arrived in McCoy's office to find Sally alone there, sitting on McCoy's desk and swinging her legs idly. She had a singularly mutinous expression on her face which did not abate when she saw Kirk.

'It's no good losing your temper, I've said I'm sorry and I'll try not to do it again and I am sick to death of being told what a nuisance I am,' she said rapidly, before he could get a word out.

'I'm pretty certain I'm not going to lose my temper,' Kirk told her, 'but I do want to talk to you.' He perched on the desk beside her and added, Before we start, do you want anything to eat?'

Sally gave a reluctant chuckle.

'Now that you mention it…'

Kirk handed her the large bar of chocolate he had had the foresight to provide himself with and asked,

'Where's McCoy?'

'In there,' said Sally, through a mouthful of chocolate, gesturing with the remains of the bar at the inner Sickbay. 'I did something dreadful to the diagnostic bed he was using – blew its fuse, if it has such a thing – and he's looking it over with a screwdriver, Mr Scott and some quite amazing language. I learned a thing or two,' she added appreciatively.

'This is no laughing matter,' Kirk said, seeing a quiver shake the corner of her mouth.

'No,' she said, 'I'm sorry. Oh, hell. I've spent all my time here disrupting things and then having to apologise. It's getting to be pretty boring.'

'Boring is not exactly how I would chose to describe it,' Kirk replied, a little dryly. 'How did you manage on Staxis – without driving the rest of the population to insanity, I mean?'

'We lived way out in the country – my range is limited to between 5 and 10 miles, we think, although that isn't much help at the moment – and my mother had 'the sight' herself, passed down through the female generation for years, so I suppose we were just used to it. School was a shock, because it took a while to get used to having all these thoughts in my head. The biggest problem to telepaths, you know, is not their thoughts getting out, it's everyone else's coming in. Gets kind of confusing, especially to a six year old. The telekinesis came in kind of handy, though. I was never bullied. And I was always happy, you see.'

There was a forlorn note in her voice that brought a sudden tightness to Kirk's throat. He had forgotten, through the events of this day, that she had lost everything she had ever held precious; that although the war had happened over two hundred years ago, for her it had been yesterday and her grief was today's.

'I shouldn't have been there, you know,' she said. 'The sleepers were meant for the best, the scientists and the leaders. You've got our President, his son, the head of the Genetic Engineering Institute and some woman who was very high up in the army next door. My brother should have been in that sleeper. He was a doctor. He knew what was going to happen and he drugged me. It should have been him.'

McCoy stalked through from the inner Sickbay with a sonic screwdriver in his hand and a look of barely leashed impatience on his face.

'Next time,' he said to Sally, 'I'll make you fix it. You are a damned nuisance, miss.'

'Can you spare me a minute, doctor?' Kirk said as McCoy, having thoroughly subdued Sally, turned to go back into the hospital room.

'About 10 seconds,' McCoy growled. 'I've got four patients in there who all want to know what's happened in the last two hundred years, not to mention the added complication of a young woman who disrupts not only my equipment but also most of the people on this ship…'

'That's enough, doctor,' Kirk snapped, in the command tone, because he was picking up more than the short, staccato sentences from Sally. Despite the bravado of her performance, she was desperately worried about what she might do next. About what they might do.

McCoy opened his mouth to take issue with Kirk's tone, saw Sally's face, and shut it again. He sat down behind his desk and said,

'I'm sorry, Sally. It's been a bad day.'

'I know it,' said Sally. From anyone else it would have been an expression of sympathy. From Sally, it was a statement of total fact.

'Okay, then,' Kirk said, softening the tone somewhat but keeping it stern, 'we have a problem. Everyone agrees on that, including the problem herself. So what we need to do is decide how to handle it. Agreed?'

'Agreed,' McCoy and Sally said together.

'Well, then, here are my suggestions. Sally, you will spend a great deal of time with Mr Spock – and I don't care whether that appeals to you or not…'

'Did I say a word? Did I?' Sally protested.

'You will also,' Kirk continued, ignoring her, ' try to give us some warning if you think you're going to lose control. Can you do that?'

'I can but try,' Sally replied, rubbing her ear thoughtfully. 'Of course, the simplest solution would be to shoot me full of tranquilliser or put me to sleep until we reach Starbase 11. Have either of you thought of that?'

There was a moment of absolute silence during which Kirk and McCoy avoided looking at Sally and at each other. Then McCoy said snappily,

'Hell, it was just a passing thought, Sally. A person just can't keep his stupid ideas to himself round here any more.'

'I am not Gary Mitchell,' Sally said slowly, adding, to their look of surprise, 'Of course I know why you're worried. You've been comparing me to him ever since you found out about my power. But I've grown up with it; I haven't had the balance of my mind disturbed because suddenly I'm super-human. I can't make things, like he could, and I surely won't cause you harm deliberately. And I would let you restrain me if it became necessary. Although I sincerely hope it won't be.'

'So say we all,' McCoy responded, grinning at her. 'Sally, I could quite get to like you. You talk like a sensible woman – sometimes. Is there anything else, Jim? Because, if not, I have patients to get back to.'

Kirk shook his head and, as if on cue, a woman's voice raised itself in a wailing cry from the inner room. McCoy hauled himself, a little wearily, to his feet.

Sally slid off the desk and came round to stand at his side. She said,

'Let me. This is my field, not yours.'

The cry came again, a wordless keen of lament that chilled the blood.

'This isn't a medical problem,' Sally went on, 'and you've done all you can.'

'And what, exactly, were you thinking of doing, young woman?' McCoy asked. Kirk swivelled round to watch them. Sally's face wore a sudden look of white exhaustion and for the first time that day Kirk saw unadulterated grief in her eyes.

'You're not well enough,' McCoy said roughly, 'and you haven't the skill.'

'I don't need any skill for this,' Sally said, and added softly, 'This is our grief, doctor. Let us bury our dead alone.'

McCoy stood back to let her enter. Kirk saw her brace her shoulders; then the door shut quietly behind her, cutting off the sounds of weeping.

'She's brave, though,' McCoy said.

'Yes,' Kirk replied. There was a short silence. Kirk got up from the desk.

'Meeting in the Briefing Room at 21.00, Bones,' he said, and left for the bridge.

He spent the next two hours peacefully on the bridge. He signed some reports, read over McCoy's notes on the other Staxis survivors and requested Uhura to plan something special in the way of a party for them. Then he sat back in his chair and watched the bridge hum with routine activity around him as they moved out of orbit and back into space.

Spock was at his station, as usual. Kirk watched him covertly for a while, but he appeared to be his normal self; possibly a little more sombre, but Kirk would not have cared to take a bet on that.

From time to time he felt Sally chase across his mind and out again. He caught her sorrow and through it, the grief of the other survivors but the sensation was so subliminal that it was possible to ignore it unless his mind was completely unoccupied by anything else. He did not think anyone else (apart, possibly, from Spock, but that was pure speculation) was aware of her mental presence although she was the main topic of conversation. No-one, it appeared, was likely to forget their initial introduction to her powers for quite some time.

Uhura, after swapping notes with Sulu on the chaos that had reigned over their respective consoles, went on to say,

'Is it true that she's very beautiful, captain?'

'Yes,' Kirk said honestly, after a moment. 'I think I can truthfully say she's the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.'

-And you've had a few- said Sally's voice –so I expect you are in a position to judge-

He looked around, momentarily confused that although he had clearly heard her voice she was no-where in sight, and then it clicked with him. He sent out,

-Where are you?-

-My brand spanking new cabin, Deck 11, 4c. I'm ready for that tour now, if it's still on offer-

-Offer? I was under the impression it was more of a demand-

-Cut the sarcasm, Kirk, or I'll go without you-

-I'm on my way down-

He stood up and found Spock beside him, waiting to take the captain's chair.

'You have the conn, Mr Spock. I seem to have an appointment.'

Sally met him at the door of the cabin she had been allocated. Someone had obviously found time to show her how to use the fabricators on board since she had changed from her practical, if somewhat unflattering, overalls to a dress. Where she had unearthed the fabricator code Kirk had no idea but it should undoubtedly be classified 'Dangerous Weapon' and locked into obscurity at once. The delicate lilac fabric clung to every curve of her body without a wrinkle or a crease. She might as well have been naked.

As if they didn't have enough problems already, he thought bitterly. Did she have to be so very beautiful as well? She'd cause riots in any port between here and the Klingon system. She'd cause riots on board the 'Enterprise' if they weren't careful.

'You could always put a veil on me, you know,' Sally said chattily, 'or how about a sack? Or…'

'If you don't watch your step very carefully, I'll do just that,' Kirk replied. 'Shall we go?'

'I am entirely at your service, Cap'n Jim,' she said, sketching him a demure salute which was so at variance with the mischief in her eyes that it was all he could do to keep from laughing.

Kirk had toured the 'Enterprise' with ambassadors, aliens and sundry V.I.P's over the years but the tour he always remembered was the one where Sally Kilsyth charmed her way into the hearts of his crew.

Sally in the engine room, enchanting Scott with both her nationality and her intense interest in the workings of a starship. Asking him intelligent questions and listening carefully to the technical replies with every appearance of comprehension. Scott was obviously delighted; most visitors were more interested in the romantic side of the ship and had little time for the practicalities of running it that were so dear to his heart.

Walking through the ship's park, telling her the names of the flowers and the plants. Out of sheer habit, starting on the first phase of his formidable seduction technique by picking a golden rose and fastening it to her dress – then being brought up short by the fact that she undoubtedly knew exactly how many times it had been done before, and with what practised ease.

Showing her proudly round the bridge, admiring the easy way she made the acquaintance of the bridge crew. Watching Spock out of the corner of his eye, trying to find the faintest hint of some reaction to her. Finding none.

Sally, twirling round in the captain's chair, laughing.

Walking through the corridors with her, seeing the admiring glances, the raised eyebrows, the speculation.

'Sally saying, 'Your ship is beautiful, Cap'n Jim. What a lady.'

In the gym, Sally insisting on trying a few falls with the instructor, 'to get some of the stiffness out of my muscles.' Hitting the mat with a thump and giggling at her own clumsiness, getting up to try again and again until she got it right. All the men in the room – and most of the women – stopping to watch her. Highly amused by this audience, turning cartwheels across the floor for their benefit. Ending up inelegantly sprawled, dress ridden up to her thighs, with half a dozen crewmen rushing to help her to her feet.

Kirk ended the tour, as he usually did, on the observation deck. With the ship flying at warp speed the effect was spectacular and he always enjoyed seeing a novice's reaction to it.

She stood rigid beside him, as if stunned. When he realised she was weeping silently, he had her in his arms before he was even aware he had moved.

There was no passion in the gesture. That first impulse had begun to die some time before and had vanished altogether as he walked through his ship with her. In its place had come a feeling that was new to Kirk and one that he could not easily define. He admired her and he appreciated her - and he knew it would be impossible for him ever to seduce her. The closest he could come to describing this new emotion was that, in the course of that day, she had become for him the sister he had never had, or the daughter he might one day have. He had discovered that she was brave, vulnerable and true; he wanted to protect her, to wipe away the bad dreams and give her happy memories. He wanted to give her back the life that she had lost, but all he could do for her now was hold her as she mourned the loss of her family and everything she had known.

Getting old, Kirk, he thought wryly to himself.

A watery chuckle from the region of his shoulder recalled him to the fact that Sally had probably picked that thought up, as well as a good deal more besides. She raised her head, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and regarded him severely.

'So,' she said, with a wealth of emphasis not diminished by the hiccup in the middle of the syllable, 'this is where it all happens, is it? If it helps any, I would have turned you down. With enthusiasm.'

'Why?' Kirk asked, wondering if his vanity was wounded or merely surprised. 'I thought … when you came into my cabin, you were thinking…'

'As were you, Cap'n Jim, and therein likes the problem, I suspect. Does the expression 'peas in a pod' mean anything to you? You were the first personable male I'd seen in two hundred years. I'd have to be a saint not to have had some naughty thoughts. But, mainly, you're already in love with this ship and I am the last woman to take kindly to a rival.'

'You know too much,' he said, linking arms with her. They began to stroll down the length of the deck.

'I do,' she said, 'and you should be grateful for it. You and me, big mistake, I assure you. Now, if you could hook me up with that gym instructor…'

The tears, and the grief, might never have been. Sally, as well as Spock, seemed to have her own kind of barriers.

Kirk delivered Sally into Uhura's capable hands – at Uhura's own request, since she knew that it was in the highest degree unlikely that Kirk would have thought to discover what items of clothing, and so on, Sally stood in need of. The two of them became immediately absorbed in patterns and fabric so Kirk left them to it and made it to his shower at last.

BY the time he stepped out of it, clean and refreshed, he felt like a new man. He had not realised, until the fine needle spray had begun to massage his muscles, just how tired and bruised he was. Hungry, too. He dialled up a chicken sandwich and a pot of strong black coffee and wolfed them down before heading out to his meeting with McCoy and Spock.

He met McCoy at the door of the Briefing Room and Spock, who had been on duty on the bridge, joined them a few minutes later. Once they were all seated, Kirk said,

'How are the rest of our survivors, Bones?'

'Much better, captain. Sally did a good job of calming them down and they were doing some catch-up reading when I left. They should be up and about tomorrow.'

'Good, I'll meet them then. Spock, any problems on the bridge?'

'No, sir. A message came in from Starbase 11 while you were with Miss Kilsyth. They request full data on her abilities, both known and speculated, so that they can arrange to have a suitably equipped telepath on hand to begin her training.'

'Do you have her medical report ready, Bones?'

'Just,' McCoy replied. 'Do you want a run through?' Kirk nodded. 'Okay. Physically, she's a normal nineteen-year-old human female in good health considering the time she spent suspended and the shock we gave her system bringing her out of it so fast. She – and the rest of them – will suffer from muscle cramps for the next couple of weeks, but exercise will sort that out. Her intelligence quota is very high indeed, Jim. In fact, it's a good deal higher than the standard we would normally expect for a Star Fleet recruit. I think.'

'What do you mean 'you think'?' Kirk demanded. 'Didn't you run all the standard tests?'

'Yes, of course I did, Jim. Just think about it for a minute.'

Kirk thought. After a few seconds, it dawned.

'Good God,' he said slowly, 'of course. How do you tell if a telepath is cheating?'

'Exactly.' McCoy drummed his fingers on the table for some moments. 'How much of it was her own intelligence – and how much came from me, or someone else who knew the answers?'

'And if she did read you,' Kirk continued, 'does that make her answers any less valid? In fact, does it matter how she learns something as long as she's right?'

'It would make a great deal of difference, captain,' Spock said, 'depending on whether the knowledge she 'reads' is retained or merely temporary.'

'Any guesses on that one, Bones?'

'Nope. All I can tell you is that she sailed through all of my tests without batting one long eyelash, and looked as if she was enjoying herself, too.'

'It would make an interesting test case,' Kirk mused. 'If she decided to try for Star Fleet Academy… How would they handle the fact that she could do anyone's job as long as she had access to a mind that knew it?'

'Why,' said Spock, 'should she try to enter Star Fleet Academy, captain?'

Kirk looked at him, startled. Then he realised the implication behind the words, and grinned.

'No personal interest, Mr Spock. The lady is very beautiful but a little too demanding for me. No, I was thinking… it would be very useful to have a fully fledged telepath on board, wouldn't it. She could turn her hand to anything. When she's trained, of course,' he added, as McCoy's face, which had borne a faintly sceptical expression at the start of this speech, was now frankly incredulous. 'I don't know that I'd describe her as useful at the moment.'

'She's a bloody nuisance at the moment.' McCoy said bluntly.

'Ye…es,' said Kirk. 'But when she isn't setting off alarms or shrieking like a banshee, hasn't it struck you how at home she is here? I feel like I've known her for years.'

'Well, you would, wouldn't you?' McCoy leaned back in his chair and regarded his captain ironically. 'She's been into your mind, Jim. She knows all about you. Of course she knows how to handle you.'

'You think it's that calculated?'

'I didn't say it was calculated,' McCoy objected. 'I find her very charming too. She has a pleasant personality – and it's largely due to her ability. We all of us have this desire to be completely understood by someone. Well, Sally can do it.'

'I agree with the doctor,' Spock said, somewhat unexpectedly. 'The term psychiatrists use is 'psychological visibility'.'

'Thank you, Spock,' McCoy said dryly, 'I do know what the psychiatric term is.'

'However,' Spock went on as if McCoy had not spoken, 'there is a difference between perceptiveness and assault.'

'Considering the fact that she's completely untrained, she's managed to keep the assaults to a minimum,' Kirk said, before he had time to think more carefully about what he was saying, and to whom.

'As you say, captain,' the Vulcan relied impassively.

'You don't like our Sally,' McCoy said suddenly, 'do you, Spock?'

Spock favoured him with a look that made him feel like some less than interesting bacterium.

'I bear the young lady no ill will. I merely object to power without discipline.'

'The lack of discipline is hardly her fault, Spock!' McCoy snapped.

'You were less tolerant in Sickbay earlier today, Doctor.'

'Yes, that's true.' McCoy admitted grudgingly. 'But she wasn't a person then. She was just… a problem. I've seen a good deal of her since and I've begun to admire her very much. She has courage, compassion and a sense of humour that wouldn't go amiss in certain other people!'

'I see nothing humourous in the fact that she very nearly killed the captain,' Spock said evenly.

So that's what this is all about, Kirk thought. And as usual, it took McCoy to bring it out. He said,

'Well, I wasn't killed. And I think if I can manage to forgive and forget, then so can you. End of subject.' He paused, and added, 'I think we've said all we can usefully say, unless either of you have any other comments?'

There were none. Kirk said,

'You have an appointment with Sally first thing in the morning, Mr Spock.'

'Yes, captain.'

As he rose to go, Kirk said softly,

'Mr Spock, I'm very sorry to have to ask this of you…'

'Quite unnecessary to apologise, captain.'

McCoy sat where he was and, the second Spock was out of the door, said,

'What's biting him?'

Kirk swung his feet on to the table, crossed his hands over his stomach and regarded the doctor ruefully.

'I'm not sure, Bones. I mean, I know it's Sally but I'm not quite sure why.'

'Probably got something to do with when he melded with her,' McCoy said nonchalantly. The studied lightness of his tone did not quite hide his concern. 'I've never seen Spock so shaken when he came out of a meld before. I think he literally had to force her out of his mind.'

'Yes, almost certainly,' Kirk agreed. 'I really don't know how to handle this one, Bones; it's totally outwith my experience. I'm worried about the effect Sally seems to having on Spock – and yet I don't want to put her out of commission unless I have to.'

'I don't advise it,' McCoy said bluntly. 'I know my mind was running along the same lines while we were having so much trouble with her, but I was wrong. If we put Sally back under now… I would have serious concerns about the effect on her sanity.'

'Oh, great,' Kirk muttered. 'Get rid of one problem and another one leaps right out at you.'

'If you want my advice,' McCoy said, rising, 'Id leave them to fight it out between them. Spock is more than capable of looking after himself and Sally doesn't seem to be any kind of shrinking violet. Let them sort it out at their own level.'

'I hope you're right,' Kirk said, following him to the door.

Kirk went to bed that night very tired but after the first half hour he knew that, for once, he would be unable to switch off and go to sleep. His thoughts were revolving round his head at a speed that made it impossible for him to even imagine relaxing. So, with a sigh, he got up, fetched himself a coffee and prepared to try and sort his reflections into some kind of order.

Firstly, the survivors of the Staxis holocaust in general. They were a confused, unhappy set of people and in the three weeks it would take them to get to Starbase 11 and professional rehabilitators it would be the 'Enterprise's' job to help them begin to settle into a time completely removed from their own – a time where even the most basic functions of life were almost entirely unfamiliar. Due to the somewhat extraordinary events of that day, Kirk had not even had time to meet them yet, an omission he intended to remedy first thing in the morning.

Secondly, of course – Sally.

There had been a couple of ship-wide jolts from her through the evening, both of which had been preceded by a three-second warning (although not entirely sure, Kirk was pretty certain that the words 'shit' and 'fan' had been in there somewhere) which had been almost as bad as the actual event itself. Most of the casualties had been inanimate, in the form of smashed china; one crewman had fallen six feet down a Jeffries tube and broken a wrist. Sally had paid him a personal visit to apologise, which the crewman seemed to think was very fair compensation.

For some reason, Kirk had felt the force of Sally's outbursts more severely than anyone else, as far as he was capable of judging. He put it down to their experience in Sickbay, but it remained as a worry, lurking at the back of his mind; as did the fact that he seemed to have a subliminal awareness of what she was feeling almost all of the time. It was by no means intrusive and he had to concentrate in order to do it – but surely the contact they had made with each other would be fading by now? He wasn't enough of an expert on telepathy to know whether it was normal or not. Whatever 'normal' meant, in relation to Sally.

She came to him eventually, as he had known she would.

His door was open for her before she had time to buzz for admission. She slipped inside and stood quite still, watching him for his reaction.

She wore the gold brocade robe that was to become so familiar, full skirted and long sleeved, the heavy fabric sweeping the floor. With her hair hanging in loose plaits at either side of her face, she looked like a medieval princess.

'Come and sit down, Sally,' he said gently.

All the day's bravado and lightness had left her; she was frightened, and lonely, and she needed comfort. She said,

'I don't want to sleep alone, Cap'n Jim. I keep thinking I might not wake up again. I have horrible dreams. Can I stay?'

He went to her and held her without a word. Her scent surrounded him, from her skin and her hair; Sally's perfume and, like Sally, unique. Heady, aromatic, the aroma of evening lilies and warm spices, it was all of these things, sensuality made substance, and told him as much about her as the generous mouth could do.

He said to her mind,

-You're safe. Nothing will ever hurt you here. You're safe-

He held her through the night like a child and only when she finally slept, nestled against him, trusting and secure, did he sleep too.