Chapter Two
"He's gonna be la-ate," McCoy sang. His lips resisted the smile playing there, but the glint in his blue eyes was unmistakable.
Spock followed the Doctor's gaze to the point on the dusty horizon where the ribbon of the road disappeared over the rim. His dissatisfaction with the Captain for holding them up vanished.
"I take it that you stand to gain if he is," he commented.
"Oh, don't be such a prude, Spock!" McCoy huffed good-naturedly, not taking his eyes off the horizon. "But yes, if you must know. A bottle of Scotty's best whiskey. And the satisfaction, of course, of Jim's embarrassment. You know he's so damned disciplined when it comes to punctuality."
Spock glanced sideways at the Doctor, whose smile was now as broad as it could possibly be. He was actually bouncing on his toes.
"I can with 98.9% certainty say, Doctor, that the Captain will not be late."
"What!" McCoy cried out, snapping his head toward Spock. "How would you-" Then he realized. Vulcan eyesight was much superior to human eyesight. "Oh, damn you!"
"In fact, I can now say it with 99.2% certainty," Spock continued dispassionately. "Unless his van breaks down, but judging by the speed at which it is going, even if it that happens its momentum will carry it here in time."
McCoy could see it now, a tiny plume of dust on the horizon, rapidly growing. He glanced at the clock on the shuttle bay's wall and cursed again.
"I take it you also stood to lose something, Doctor," Spock inquired.
The grumbled response was so replete with invective that he couldn't quite catch what was the object in question, but he got a pretty good idea of the Doctor's feelings about it.
"Alright, me laddies," Mister Scott started yelling at the group assembled on the platform. "Capt'n's on 'is way. Embark, embark! You too, Doctor," the engineer added sotto voce.
McCoy turned and glowered at Scott, who ducked into the shuttle.
Spock held back the observation that it was hardly Mister Scott's fault, or even the Captain's. It was much more interesting to let the Doctor simmer and seethe over time than to have him blow steam this instant.
McCoy snatched up his bag and turned toward the shuttle. He wasn't going to greet the Captain upon his arrival, let alone congratulate him on being on time.
The van – quite rickety, in fact – hardly slowed down before it came to an abrupt stop at the bottom of the landing dock. The door slid open and Spock caught a glimpse of a female Xylian, her dark green skin glowing with energy.
Kirk appeared, looked up at Spock on the platform, waved and jumped out. Spock frowned. The Captain did not look the picture of health. He was pale, his eyes were ringed darkly, and he landed on the road without his usual spring.
But he was smiling, even when the female forcefully thrust the duffel bag at him from the door opening. Spock held his breath. The Captain was about to lose his balance when the Xylian leaned out and locked her arm around his neck, pulled him towards her and passionately kissed him on the mouth. After a couple of seconds Kirk laughed as he disentangled himself. The sound of his laughter was so joyful, Spock's worry dissipated.
Kirk bounded up the ladder. The van moved off even before its door had closed.
"Captain."
"Spock, I'm not late, am I?" Kirk panted, trying to hide his embarrassment.
"No, Sir. You have forty-three seconds to spare."
"Oh good. Can't give McCoy the satisfaction of being late after I chewed him out last time."
Spock nodded. "Indeed, Captain. Captain, are you well?"
Kirk had grabbed the door jamb to steady himself. McCoy had seen it too and leapt up from his seat.
"No, it's nothing," Kirk said, quickly holding up his hand. He was still smiling. "I just had a – a vigorous leave, that's all."
"Oh, jeeze!" McCoy whined, rolling his eyes and heading back to his seat. "That's all I need, Jim! Come and see me in Sickbay when we arrive but don't, please don't tell me about it, alright?"
Kirk chuckled and stopped next to the single seat all the way in the back. He stuffed his duffel in the overhead bin.
"I'll just take a nap on our way over and would appreciate it if no one disturbed me, Mister Spock. I feel like I've not slept in days, and I probably haven't. How long before we reach the Star Base?"
"The flight is four hours and forty-two minutes, Captain."
"Good, that'll give me time to, um, recuperate." He smiled again and lowered himself into the seat, wincing a little.
"You are alright, Captain?" Spock ventured.
Kirk rested his head against the backrest and closed his eyes.
"I'll be fine, Spock, go sit and…meditate or something. I'm fine…"
Spock marveled, looking down at his Captain, already asleep – or, as McCoy would have put it, "passed out". He looked tired, more tired than he had when they had landed on this pleasure planet ninety-three hours ago. His lips on which the smile still played were bruised. His hair was ruffled and dusty. The knuckles of one hand were scraped, but tended to. His clothes were crumpled and dirty.
But, Spock guessed, possibly these were signs of a successful leave for the Captain. He would never cease to be amazed at the variety of activities that humans found relaxing, or the circumstances under which these same activities suddenly turned stressful. He could not figure out what it was on this occasion for his Captain, but the smile told him to set his worries aside.
The shuttle rumbled as the engines fired up. Spock quickly moved toward the front and sat down at an empty station. He was going to use the trip to study the scientific data that even a pleasure planet was unable to withhold from an enterprising Vulcan.
00000000000
Two hours into the flight Spock was so abruptly overcome with dread that he almost panicked. He jerked back from his view screen, clutched his chest, drew a tremulous breath.
"Commander?" the pilot began.
Ignoring him, Spock leapt up and rushed to the back of the shuttle, jostling the passengers on either side of the narrow aisle. When he reached the Doctor's seat, three rows in, he shook McCoy's shoulders and uttered, in a voice raw with anguish,
"Doctor!"
"What the-?" McCoy jerked awake and stumbled out of his seat, followed the Vulcan.
All heads were turned to them and a collective gasp went up as the Vulcan hauled the Captain out of his seat and laid him, swiftly but gently, down onto the carpeted floor of the aisle.
McCoy felt that punch to his gut – the one he knew too well, after years of service with Jim Kirk, the one that he thought would kill him, each time, over and over, with anger and helplessness.
Kirk's face was white as a sheet, his jaw clenched on a monstrous pain, so rigid his muscles stood out like ropes on his neck. Blood was spewing from his nose and mouth and had already drenched his shirt. He was trembling all over. His terrified eyes, wide open to an agony, nevertheless registered Spock, who was leaning over him. His hands were shaking so badly he grabbed past Spock's arm at first, but then he clamped onto the Vulcan's wrist, like an anchor just in time before the first convulsion hit.
"Hold him down," McCoy yelled.
Spock threw himself down onto Kirk's jerking body, pinning him to the deck as the Doctor ripped open the shuttle medkit and loaded the hypo.
"Hurry, Doctor," Spock exhorted, his voice shaking to Kirk's convulsions.
How could a human be so pale and yet burning up with such a hot fever?
McCoy jabbed the hypo into Kirk's neck and a second later Kirk's pupils rolled back into his head, his head jerked sideways once - a stubborn NO. Then, with a slight sigh, he went limp.
Spock raised himself and watched McCoy move the sensor over the lifeless body.
"What is wrong with him?" he demanded.
"How do I know , Spock!" McCoy retorted. "Febrile convulsion, but what is causing it-let Chapel through!"
Only now did Spock register the Nurse. He quickly stood and moved in between the seats to let her pass.
"Damn it, he's going into cardiac arrest!" McCoy yelled, loading another spray. "Spock, we need the Enterprise, now!"
The crowd cleared the aisle as he sped toward the controls up front. His panic fluttered like a wild beast in his chest. The Enterprise was docked at the Star Base undergoing small repairs. Would she be ready? There was no other vessel as fast at the Base.
He stabbed the panel.
"Star Base, this is Commander Spock on board the Ranger on its way from Xyla. We have a medical emergency involving the Captain. Request the Enterprise to rendez-vous with us at warp speed."
"On our way, Mister Spock. Warp six," came Sulu's almost instant reply. "ETA…"
Forty-two minutes. Too late.
"Make that warp eight, Mister Sulu," Spock ordered.
The hesitation was almost imperceptible.
"Yes, Sir, warp eight!"
Taking a shallow breath, Spock allowed himself to look back down the aisle. McCoy and Chapel were bent over the lifeless body of his Captain and friend, working frantically. He knew he could not stand, so he remained sitting.
"She can handle it, Mister Spock." It was Scott, appearing next to him. "But are ye alright, Mister Spock?"
Frowning, Spock looked up at Scott and then down to where the engineer was staring. It was his hand, protectively holding his wrist where Jim had held him. Only then did he register the pain. The ulna there – Vulcan bone that was like steel – was broken.