T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

CHAPTER THREE – TRANSIT

'You have marked him,' said Spock.

He did not add, 'And me.' He did not need to. The woman he confronted understood exactly what he meant. How much she knew of what was left unspoken was something that Spock did not want to begin to contemplate.

Sally did not attempt to deny his accusation or offer excuses for her actions. She merely said 'Yes,' and waited for him to continue.

'I do not expect you to realise what you have done…'

'Oh, but I do,' Sally interrupted. 'Of course I do. I have created a link between his mind and mine. I will always know where he is, what he is feeling. And if you want to know what I intend to do about it, the answer is… nothing.'

'You are completely unprincipled,' Spock said, the fury in him coming so close to the surface that it startled both himself and Sally.

'Ah, no,' Sally held up a hand – in protest? In self defence? – and let it fall again to her side. 'Spock, I can't undo it. Surely you, of all people, must know that? If I tried to undo a deep link now, I would have to cut out part of his mind. I would hurt him unbearably, and possibly permanently, because I don't have the skill to do it properly. And for what? In three weeks I'll be gone and he need never know that a link exists.'

'I would know,' Spock pointed out, and they both knew that he was no longer talking about Kirk alone.

Patience was not one of Sally's virtues, and the last few minutes had exhausted her limited stock. She jumped to her feet and shouted,

'Well, what the hell would you have me do? The only way to destroy the link now is to kill me and I am not into self-sacrifice, thanks very much.' She brought both fists down, hard, on the table in front of her. 'Nor do I intend to spend the rest of my life feeling guilty about violating your bloody privacy. God knows I find your mind as uninteresting as you find mine and if you had minded your own bloody business in the first place, none of this would have happened. So you can stuff that in your Vulcan pipe and smoke it.'

She kicked the table savagely to emphasise her point.

The ship rocked.

'Miss Kilsyth…'

'Don't speak to me!' shrieked Sally, at the top of her voice.

The intercom whistled.

'Mr Spock,' Kirk's filtered voice said, a little reproachfully, 'you seem to be having problems.'

Spock went over to the intercom, keeping a wary eye on Sally.

'Spock here, captain. I trust you are undamaged.'

'I am. The same cannot be said of my breakfast, unfortunately.'

'My apologies, sir. I anticipate that the problem is of a merely temporary nature…'

'Don't hold your breath,' Sally advised loudly.

'Sally, if you don't shut up and behave I'll lock you in the brig for the rest of the trip,' Kirk's voice said. He knew this was a fairly empty threat and waited for a comment, but none came. Sally had clearly recognised the genuine exasperation in his tone. Pointedly ignoring Spock, she flounced – there was no other way to describe it – to the nearest chair and sat down. She then folded her arms, crossed her legs, and assumed an expression of idiotic docility.

'Would you rather continue your instruction at a later date, Mr Spock?' Kirk asked.

'Miss Kilsyth seems quite calm at the moment,' Spock said. He did not venture an opinion as to how long this state of affairs was likely to last.

'Very well. I leave the decision up to you. Good luck.'

Spock turned back to Sally.

'Don't you look at me in that tone of voice,' she said immediately.

Spock sighed. He found himself completely at a loss in his dealings with her. Most humans had, albeit deeply buried, some cornerstone of logic that he could relate to. Sally appeared to have none; for most of the time they did not even seem to be speaking the same language. What, for instance, had she meant by that last remark? Semantically, it made no sense.

Every moment spent with her felt like walking on eggshells over ice. He had no way of knowing if the next remark he made would precipitate fury, hysteria or just amusement since she appeared to be capable of generating all these emotions indiscriminately and, quite frequently, all at the same time.

'Miss Kilsyth,' he said, 'the captain has requested me to endeavour to impart to you the basics of Vulcan mind control technique. The task is difficult enough to begin with. You seem to be determined to make it impossible.'

''I can make it more than impossible if you don't stop lecturing me,' Sally retorted. She rose to her feet in one fluid movement and came over to him, standing so close that he could feel her breath on his face as she spoke.

'Mr Spock, you will drive me to insanity with your suspicion of my motives. You must surely realise that I did not forge the link deliberately. I do not have some deep and hidden reason for allowing it to continue. I simply can't undo it.'

'I have not…'

'Good grief, you've been accusing me of it ever since I woke up!' Sally snapped. 'I will never do anything to hurt him. That's what this is all about, isn't it? You want to be sure I won't harm him somehow.'

Spock said, forcing himself to be fair to her,

'I believe… you would not do so intentionally.'

'Key word 'intentionally', right? Well, I don't suppose I can blame you for that. I can tell you till I'm blue in the face that I won't hurt him, and you still won't believe me…'

He felt her mind then, moving down the link that was so much stronger than her link with Kirk. He called on all his reserves of discipline to repulse her, some barrier strong enough to let her know how distasteful this contact with her was.

-You will not shut me out-

-I do not want this-

-I love him too, I will never hurt him, he is dear to me-

-I do not want this… You almost killed him-

-Please trust me. I would give my life to protect him-

-If you harm him I will give you no peace ever again-

-Why must you hide?-

'Enough!' Spock said out loud. Sally stepped back as if she had been struck.

'That will always be between us, then,' she said sadly. She drew herself up and stood sword straight, defiantly. 'Very well, I accept the debt. If I must spend then rest of my life repaying it then – so be it.'

For the first time since he had known her, Spock felt something akin to admiration. She had taken the burden of guilt without question, without complaint, and he sensed a strength of purpose in her that would see it through.

She would find some way to repay the debt.

For the link with himself, he could scarcely blame her. That had been as much his doing as hers, the only way he could reach her traumatised mind to bring it out from the well of insanity into which it had sunk and thus prevent her from doing damage to those who could not protect themselves. He had acted instinctively, for Kirk's sake, without considering what it might mean, but it had to be faced now; he was tied to this woman's mind for life, held by an irrevocable bond that only the death of one of them could sunder. And since he was telepathic where Kirk was not, his link with Sally was correspondingly stronger. He would never be entirely free of the reflections of her emotions and she, unless he constantly kept his barriers at full strength, could gain immediate access to his thoughts. It was an appalling prospect.

Sally was biting her lower lip thoughtfully, watching him. Reading him.

'You do me a great wrong, Spock,' she said. 'It is no joy to me that this link exists between us. I am not a trained telepath, as you are. I have spent my whole life never free from the thoughts of those around me. And now, just as it looks like I'm going to learn to shut them out, I find myself bound to you whether I will or not.'

He knew that she spoke the truth and still it did not help. He had no choice but to trust her and it irked him more than he knew, to put his life so completely into a stranger's hands.

Sally started to pace round the room. She had just come out of the shower when Spock arrived and the brocade robe she had belted loosely around her to greet him parted to reveal a long expanse of smooth leg. Spock watched her without reaction. He recognised the physical fact of her beauty – to deny that would be illogical – but it left him unmoved.

She turned to face him again. Her face was pale and he realised that the extravagance of the various emotional displays she had but him through that morning had left her still-recuperating body very near exhaustion.

'I suppose we just have to accept what's done is done,' she said rapidly. 'With any luck, we need never see each other again once I've gone…'

'You will come back,' Spock said, in the tone of one who says 'The Earth is round.' Sally, suddenly brought face-to face with the fact that the link was, after all, two way, said furiously.

'I am not going to spend the rest of my life worrying how my actions will affect you. And if you would do the job you came here to do, we might all get on a lot faster.'

With this breath-takingly unfair comment, she flung herself into the nearest chair, scowling furiously and very near tears.

'Miss Kilsyth…' Spock said awkwardly.

'Be quiet!' Sally commanded savagely. She beat her hands together several times – possibly, Spock thought, as an alternative to actually hitting him. He waited until she seemed to have brought herself under control.

'If you are ready to continue, I do have duties to get back to.'

'Yes, of course you do,' she said, relatively calmly. 'Very well, I'm ready.'

He reached for the link; no need for touch between them. As he sank deeper into her mind, he found one thought clear and determined among all the rest.

-I will repay the debt-

Kirk saw very little of Sally in the next two weeks. Much of her time was spent with Spock, who cautiously admitted she was making progress. Certainly her outbursts, both verbal and telepathic, had become fewer and less explosive although Kirk did not for a moment imagine that this was an accurate reflection of her internal emotions.

When she was not practising mental disciplines with Spock, Sally, along with the rest of the Staxis people, was ordered to the gym for at least two hours a day under McCoy's eye. She was turning out to be quite an adept little gymnast and although she would never be a great one – those long years of sleep had cost her muscles vital elasticity – she took a great deal of joy in drilling her body into the best possible shape.

She had also, Kirk was pleased to see, formed a warm and easy friendship with Uhura and it was in Uhura's company that he saw her most often. They made an attractive contrast, the one so dark and calm and the other so pale and fiery. When the two of them staged an impromptu hand-to-hand combat match one afternoon, word sped round the ship like wildfire and by the time Sally and Uhura had retired, gasping and laughing after admitting that Uhura had the ascendancy, almost two-thirds of the male crew had managed to find an excuse to pass through the gym. Kirk was one of them, which prompted a minor telepathic explosion from Sally, absolutely none of which was in any way printable, and all of which made him laugh. It only occurred to him afterwards how absolutely normal he now found that method of communication with her.

The 'welcome to the 'Enterprise'' party Kirk had requested Uhura to organise took place during the second week of their homeward flight. It was held in the huge conference hall and was timed so that most of the crew were able to attend at one time or another. Uhura played the part of hostess with her usual style and grace, wearing a gold off-the-shoulder number that did wonders for her silk-dark skin. She kept a close eye on their guests, plying them with the best food the galley could produce and making sure they were never short of partners.

Sally, of course, needed no such helping hand.

Kirk was present when she arrived. Her costume seemed to consist of four iridescent green triangles and it made the collective male temperature rise by at least 3 degrees. Kirk did not think she was wearing anything underneath them; he did not, quite honestly, see how she could be.

There was an immediate rush to her side. Between the heads of her admirers, Sally gave Kirk a grin that suggested she was hugely enjoying herself. Kirk grinned back at her and shouldered his way through the crowd towards her.

'Sorry, ensign,' he said to the crestfallen young man who had been about to take her on to the dance floor, 'Captain's privilege.'

'That was sneaky,' Sally said approvingly. She danced well, allowing him to lead and matching her body's rhythm to his. Her glorious hair fell loose to her waist and felt warm to his touch.

'There are times when I positively enjoy pulling rank,' Kirk replied. 'How are you? I haven't seen much of you lately.'

'That wasn't what you were thinking a minute ago,' she said demurely enough, but her eyes were alight with mischief.

'Are you by any chance fishing for compliments, Miss Kilsyth?'

'Certainly am, Cap'n Jim.'

'I must admit,' Kirk said, holding her at arm's length and examining her critically, 'you make our ship's uniform look infinitely respectable by contrast. How do you get it to stay on?'

'It's glued,' Sally said. As Kirk's shoulders started to shake with mirth, she added severely, 'Don't laugh. I don't know how I'm going to get it off. Jim! Do you want everyone to think you're insane? Get up off the floor and stop laughing this minute…'

Kirk eventually left Sally four deep in eager young men and proceeded to do his duty by Uhura, Christine Chapel and Grace de Maurier. He then spotted McCoy in a corner accompanied by several very interesting bottles. He went over.

'What've you got for a pair of aching legs, Bones?'

'Strange that you should mention it,' McCoy replied. 'I happen to have just the thing.' He handed Kirk a double brandy and both men sipped in silent enjoyment until a banshee wail from the dance floor caused Kirk to choke on his drink.

'What the hell is that woman up to now?' he muttered, turning. The spectacle before him had him rooted to the spot.

Sally, with Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott (in full kilt) were alone in the centre of the floor. Sally had acquired a tartan sash from somewhere which, although totally ridiculous with her costume, did at least have the benefit of covering the major indecencies. The air was filled with the skirl of the pipes as she and Scott charged up and down the floor in a dazzling display of what Kirk could only assume was Scottish country dancing. As he watched another horrendous wail rent the air, this time from Scott.

'Is that Scotty?' McCoy said, squinting in disbelief. 'I do believe he's lost his mind.'

'Jim!' shrieked Sally, in mid-fling. 'Get yourself a partner and start dancing!'

Kirk looked around him and spotted Uhura. She was clapping in time to the music and her feet her tapping. Kirk's own feet started moving towards her of their own accord, driven by the infectious beat of the music. He cocked an enquiring eyebrow at McCoy.

'No thanks,' the doctor said with emphasis, picking up a bottle of bright red liquid. 'Far too energetic for me…'

Sixty seconds later, McCoy and Kirk found themselves whirling round on opposite sides of a set, performing something called the 'eightsome reel'. Sally, hair flying, was standing in the middle of the room, shouting directions and encouragement at the top of her not inconsiderable voice.

'Okay everyone, start yelling… it isn't the same if you don't… Bones! You're going the wrong way… Where are those yells?'

As an example, she threw back her head and gave vent to a full-blooded roar that might well have had its ancestry on the plain at Bannockburn.

The 'Enterprise' had never seen anything like it.

It had been the best party ever. Kirk strolled up to the bridge for a last check before he turned in for the night and found Spock in the command chair. The Vulcan rose as Kirk entered; Kirk waved him back and straddled the bridge veranda.

'You didn't come to the party, Mr Spock,' he said.

'No, sir. I did not think the occasion warranted the presence of us both. I trust you enjoyed yourself?'

'I did. Uhura has a wonderful knack for organisation and Sally could set fire to Niagara Falls if she felt like it. And boy, did she feel like it,' he added, thinking ruefully that certain leg muscles would no doubt punish him for his energy on the morrow. 'If you could have seen McCoy's attempt at a Highland Fling, you'd have laughed…'

He tailed off in the face of Spock's blank stare. Some of his sense of well-being dissipated under the knowledge that he would probably never make Spock understand the simple joys of throwing inhibitions to the wind for just a while.

'On the other hand, you probably wouldn't have,' he said with a sigh.

'Probably not sir,' the Vulcan said blandly and Kirk blinked. No matter how many times it happened, he still felt a small shock of surprise when Spock played up to him.

'Any problems, Mr Spock?'

'None at all, sir.'

'In that case, I'll turn in. See you in the morning.'

'Good night, Captain.'

Kirk left him sitting in the command chair, upright, still and silent. As he sent the elevator to deposit him at his quarters Kirk wished, not for the last time, that he knew exactly what Spock thought of Sally Kilsyth.

During the last week of their trip, Kirk saw Sally almost constantly. She had made friends all over the ship and thus contrived to get into places that a passenger would not normally be allowed to take so much as a peep at.

In the Engineering Room with Scott, discussing dilithium crystal imbalances for all the world as if she had been an engineer as long as he had. In the Physics lab with Sulu, mixing chemicals for one of his experiments like a pro. In Sickbay, feeding tissue samples to McCoy's bio-comp, with McCoy himself watching her complacently.

When Kirk ventured to protest that Sally had absolutely no business doing anything in Sickbay at all, let alone acting as a stand-in for McCoy's nursing staff, McCoy responded,

'I'm experimenting, Jim. I want to find out just what that young lady can do and what she can't. And as far as I can judge,' he added thoughtfully, 'there's very little that she can't. Hell, she could navigate this ship or run Spock's precious library computer if she put her mind to it.'

'Not her mind, Bones,' Kirk pointed out. 'His.'

'Makes very little difference. She could still do it, whether the mind she was flashing was unconscious or a mile away. You're the one who said it would be useful to have a telepath about the place, remember?'

'Oh, I still think there would be advantages,' Kirk said, 'and I also think it might be a little tough on Sally. Here we are, all telling her that she has to control her mind and not read us – and then you start actively encouraging her to do just that. How will she learn on her own account if all she has to do is pick someone's brains for as long as she needs to?'

'I'm not suggesting that Sally use her power as an alternative to education,' McCoy replied crossly, taking a couple of hasty steps round the office. 'God almighty, she wouldn't have it that way even if I did. Once she's trained, it'll take a major crisis to get her to read someone – but wouldn't it be nice to know that if there was a crisis you'd have her to fall back on?'

'You've changed your tune. Not long ago you described her as a 'bloody nuisance' and now you're advocating her permanent presence on board.'

'She's still a nuisance,' McCoy said, with a reluctant grin, ' but she's fun. She's so full of life that it makes me tired just to be in the same room with her. And don't you dare tell her I said that. She gets enough compliments as it is.'

'I don't expect I'll need to tell her,' Kirk reminded him. 'You old humbug, Bones. You've fallen under her spell too.'

'Yes, I do like her,' McCoy said, a little defiantly. 'I never expected to after all the trouble she caused but… the place just won't be the same without her, and I hope she comes back.'

'I hope she does too,' Kirk said, making for the door. 'But unless she comes back in uniform, try to remember that officially she's just a passenger and if Star Fleet finds out she's been helping to run this ship there'll be all hell to pay.'

'I'll remember it,' McCoy replied.

The night before they were due to arrive at Starbase 11, Sally invited Kirk, Spock, McCoy and Uhura to dinner in her cabin.

Kirk arrived to find both women dressed for the occasion – Uhura in one of her African kaftans, flowing with hot, vivid colours and Sally in a glittering icicle of a dress that at first looked perfectly respectable. When she brought him his drink, however, he discovered that it was split to the thigh on both sides as well as being completely backless. He grinned in approval.

'You both look lovely,' he said, sincerely. He had thought that Sally would overshadow any woman she was set beside yet, strangely, something of her sparkle seemed to impart itself to others when they were together; Kirk had never seen Uhura in better looks.

'We know,' Sally said complacently.

Spock and McCoy arrived together some minutes after Kirk and it was obvious from their expressions – McCoy's thunderous and Spock's stony – that some kind of debate had been going on between them, which, as usual, had degenerated. Sally had her back to them both as they stepped into the room, but she said without moving,

'This is my last night and I will have no fighting at my dinner table. Anyone who feels he will not be able to maintain a pleasant and civilised manner had better leave now.' She turned her head to lift a challenging eyebrow at Spock and Kirk realised that she had been learning more than mind control techniques from the Vulcan. The cool cast of her face was almost an exact duplicate of his.

Spock bowed gravely to her.

'I will comply with your wishes, Miss Kilsyth.'

'I am very glad to hear it, Mr Spock. Bones?'

'If Spock can be civilised, I certainly can,' McCoy retorted, taking a drink from Uhura. 'Lieutenant, you look stunning,' he continued, as if to prove his point. 'Even you look almost respectable, Sally. Oh, I might have guessed. You don't.'

Sally twitched her long skirt back over her legs and said,

'Shall we all be seated? I'll have you know I cooked all this myself,' she added, as bowls of soup appeared from the corridor, waltzing somewhat haphazardly through the door to arrive on the table. 'It's been a while since I did any cooking, but I don't think I've lost the knack.'

Kirk eyed the thick red liquid dubiously. It didn't look right to him but then, what did he know?

'Did you?' he asked. 'I see you even looked him some Vulcan recipes.'

'We…ell,' Sally said slowly. 'I cannot tell a lie. Programmed up would be a better description. I took one very quick look at the ingredients – how can you eat that stuff? – and decided I could trust the auto chef to produce it. Everything else is by my own fair hand.'

Kirk took a sip of soup and then, in one of the most heroic gestures of his life, another. He glanced round the table. Conversation had stopped and, with the exception of Spock, who calmly continued to eat his plomeek soup, so had all consumption. Sally, who had waited for her guests to start, now cast a suspicious look round her silent table and took her first sip. She then, to Spock's obvious revulsion, promptly spat it out again.

'Oh, crap!' she said. 'That's disgusting!'

'It is without doubt the worst soup I ever tasted,' Kirk said frankly. 'What in God's name did you do to it?'

'I have no idea. Bugger, do you think the rest of it's as bad?'

Fortunately, since the rest of the meal turned out to be just as inedible, she chose to see the funny side, laughing like a drain as she floated everything off to the waste disposal unit.

They ended up sprawled on the floor (Spock chose to remain upright on the only hard chair in the room) eating bread, cheese and fruit with their fingers in a sort of impromptu picnic which Kirk thought was probably more fun than the formal meal she had planned. It was a good evening. Sally was in fine form, trading wisecracks with McCoy and even attempting, without conspicuous success, to chop logic with Spock from time to time. Wine, whisky and brandy were consumed. Kirk found himself sitting in a haze of alcohol and good conversation, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long while.

He had not seen Sally and Spock together since her first day on board and he let the others carry the conversation for a moment while he studied them discreetly. More and more he was convinced that Sally had formed some kind of mental tie with Spock in those traumatic hours after she had woken up in Sickbay – and there was absolutely nothing in their attitude towards each to substantiate this opinion.

Spock was polite, formal and grave towards her. Sally was none of these things in return, but then she had not been formal towards anyone and Kirk could not think of a time when she had been particularly polite or grave either. She laughed at him, she teased him, she argued with him constantly, and at no time did Kirk see any difference between her attitude to Spock and her attitude to McCoy and himself.

Kirk knew, at least, how Sally felt about himself. She regarded him with a kind of sisterly affection that was tinged with a basic awareness that he was male and she was female. Their comradeship seemed to be in spite of their difference in sex, not because of it. He was aware that this was a very female woman and very much a woman; she had not passed one night alone since her arrival. Although, it had to be said, Kirk was beginning to have some few doubts as to the amatory skills of some of his crew, since he very rarely had to resort to the mental equivalent of banging on the adjoining wall in order to get some uninterrupted sleep. It then occurred to him that he should find this phenomenon disconcerting whereas having Sally floating in and out of his head seemed perfectly natural to him now.

'Cap'n Jim, you aren't still thinking about my atrocious food, I hope?'

Kirk collected his thoughts hastily and said,

'I have to admit, I find it quite endearing that there is something about you that isn't perfect. Is there anything else you can't do?'

'I can't play chess,' she admitted, 'can I, Spock?'

'Absolutely not,' the Vulcan confirmed, with more promptness and emphasis than was strictly polite. 'Mainly, I suspect, because chess is a game of logic and strategy.'

'I can do great strategy! I love sending all the little pawns off to battle, and the knights into single combat… don't look at me like that, it's only a game.'

Kirk, Uhura and McCoy all started talking at once before Spock could take issue with this sacrilege. Once the babble had died down, Uhura said,

'She can sing, though, Captain. Haven't you heard her?'

'Is she good?'

'Her range is not as wide as Miss Uhura's,' Spock said pedantically, 'nor is the tone quite as sweet. But the voice is pleasant and will be above average when properly trained.'

'You know him better than me. Was that a compliment?' Sally asked Uhura.

'As close as you're ever likely to get,' Uhura confirmed.

'Oh, be still my heart. Speaking of singing… Spock, will you play for me? There's something I'd like Cap'n Jim to hear.'

There was a pause. Then Spock said politely,

'Certainly, if you wish it. I will obtain my harp.'

He left and Sally, with an unusually shy expression on her face, turned to Kirk.

'I don't like goodbyes. But I would like you to know – all of you,' she included McCoy and Uhura in her look, 'that I have been very happy here. You brought me back from the dead and looked after me like a family. I know I must make a place for myself in this time and I know it won't be easy. I need something to hang on to, a base for my thoughts when times are bad. The 'Enterprise' has felt like home to me. Will you let me think of her that way when I am gone?'

Kirk reached over and took both of her hands in his.

'I would be honoured to have you think of her that way, Sally. She and her crew won't forget you either. Will you come back some day?'

Spock had returned during Kirk's reply and stood quietly, waiting for her answer to it. Sally did not look at him but Kirk had the strongest feeling that her words were directed at him when she said,

'I promise that no matter how far away I go… one day I will come back.'

Now why, thought Kirk, does that sound to me like a challenge?

He glanced at the Vulcan but Spock had seated himself and his head was bent over his harp. After a moment, following no signal that Kirk could see, he began to play.

Did they practise this? Kirk thought. When? How does he know what to play? She hasn't told him what she's going to sing. How does he know?

Sally started to sing, gently at first, as if to herself. Her voice was good, sweet and clear and melodic. Uhura picked up the tune and began to hum it gently.

She sang in 'the Gaelic', the ancient, lilting Scots tongue. Kirk never found out exactly what the words meant, but he was sure it was an old folk song, something soft and sweet about home and hearth and family. It evoked long forgotten memories and tugged at the heart.

When her voice tailed into silence, Spock, McCoy and Uhura quietly rose and left, murmuring their goodbyes. Kirk remained seated, Sally kneeling on the floor by his feet.

'Before you go, Cap'n Jim,' she said, 'I have something else to say.' But she remained silent for a long while, until Kirk said matter-of-factly,

'Can I guess? I do know a little about telepaths, after all. Has this got something to do with when we were in link in Sickbay?'

'That's it. You must have noticed that you can still pick me up even though I'm getting better at controlling. I think… when we linked in Sickbay, I think I marked you. I didn't mean to do it, but I can't undo it now.'

'You… marked me?'

'It's a sort of link, Jim. It just means that we have a constant subliminal awareness of each other. I can't read you all the time, I promise, but I would know if you were experiencing any sort of deep emotion, or hurt. Or dead. I think you might with me. I don't know if it will operate over distance but I thought you ought to know before I went. In case it does.'

Kirk gave himself a couple of minutes to get used to this idea. Although it was not coming as a real surprise, his first reaction was panic at having someone else permanently in his brain. No secrets possible. No privacy. His command – how would that be affected? How could he operate, knowing that little could be hidden from Sally?

'It's not like that,' Sally said intensely. 'I'm not a spy. You won't even know that I'm there most of the time. What it does mean is that you will always have a friend. Always. If the galaxies should turn against you there will be two people at your side whatever happens. Please trust me. I swear by everything I hold precious that you will have no cause to regret that day's work.'

I am not alone any longer, he thought. What he said was,

'Two people?'

'There's Spock,' Sally replied. 'Before, during and probably after Sally. There will always be Spock.'

'Yes,' said Kirk. Of course.' And then, abruptly, 'If you linked with me, then you must have linked with Spock too.'

'Ah, well,' Sally said evasively, 'Spock's a whole different kettle of fish.'

'But you must have done, Sally!'

'I can't answer that, Jim. It's not that simple.'

It was obvious that she wouldn't say any more even if he pressed her. He rose to leave, holding her hands so that she rose with him. Sally tightened the clasp for a moment, then withdrew her hands.

'Don't come and see me off tomorrow. Let the goodbyes be finished tonight.'

'Are you sure that's the way you want it? Almost everyone…'

'No!' she almost shouted. Then she drew a breath and went on more softly, ' Let me go alone. I hate goodbyes'

'Then I won't say it now.' He held her in his arms for a moment and it was she who moved away from him, kissing his cheek gently as she did so.

'Look after yourself and your lady, Cap'n Jim. Until we meet again.'

'Until then, Sally. Keep in touch.'

He left her standing in the centre of the room and did not look back.

They stayed only 24 hours at Starbase 11, long enough to disembark the survivors and receive their new orders. When the 'Enterprise' set sail for the stars again, it was as if she had left a part of herself behind.

As the months turned into years, they heard from Sally often. She sent long, involved and amusing messages to the crew at large, and their arrival came to be regarded as something of an event. She shared everything with them; her joys and sorrows, her opinions (which were decided), her misadventures (of which there were many) and her successes (of which there were more). They watched her change from slightly awkward adolescent to poised and elegant woman.

She spent two years on Vulcan and shared that with them too, although her workload was heavy and gave her less and less time for private pleasures. As well as her telepathic training she was permitted to take courses at the Vulcan Science Academy – a rare honour for a non-Vulcan, according to Spock – and graduated with the equivalent of a doctorate in physics and chemistry. Chess and cookery, however, remained completely beyond her.

Kirk, McCoy, Scott and Uhura all received private messages from time to time. Kirk did not think she ever sent a message to Spock – at least, none that the Vulcan would ever admit to. Kirk's, at least, were in a more serious vein, telling of the more personal hopes and sorrows. She was involved in a great many relationships with men that seemed to fade as quickly as they had started, leaving Sally remarkably unscathed – in fact, she was bridesmaid at the weddings of at least four former lovers, all of whom had been introduced to their new partners by her. She laughingly told Kirk once that her role in relationships seemed to be that of guiding men into the arms of women better suited to them. Anyway, she said, how could she possibly contemplate anything permanent with a non-telepath?

Kirk heard from several other sources that permanence was emphatically not what Sally was rapidly becoming notorious for.

There was general rejoicing on the day she enrolled in Star Fleet as it seemed to bring her return to them one step closer. She specialised in computer science and did it well, although she collected demerits time and time again for her unconventional and occasionally downright insane behaviour. Her request to join the command programme was rejected out of hand after a temper tantrum involving a fleet admiral and a table full of flying sushi. ('Well, can you blame me, Cap'n Jim? He made advances and looked like a fish.)

Meanwhile, the 'Enterprise' went on her way, encountering adventures wherever she went, some pleasant, some not so pleasant, some downright nasty. If Sally's more amusing messages seemed to follow hard upon this latter kind, then that was surely co-incidence.

Kirk knew better. When his ship had been through a particularly hard time, when he was tired and on edge, a message would invariably come from Sally for him alone. Full of gentle humour and warm friendship, she could lift him out of the darkest moods. He knew she was following them all through the link and doing her part to keep them in spirits.

She was away from them all for five years and they none of them saw her once in all that time.