**I realize my Jim gets a little super!. I refuse to apologize. Super!Jim is the best.**

"Is she still not talking?" Lieutenant Kirk asked quietly as he walked beside Dr. McCoy through the medical wing.

"Not a word. She seems to understand simple commands but otherwise ignores us. I'm afraid she's despondent, so we've kept her restrained."

"Seriously?" Sam asked, looking incredulous. "You've got her tied to the bed?"

"It's nothing like that!" McCoy protested. "The restraints are perfectly gentle and ergonomic. It's just to keep her from any self-destructive behavior."

"Methinks thou doth protest too much," Sam shot back angrily. The door to sickbay made a completely unnecessary whooshing noise as it opened - onto a rather strange scene. "…Not seeing any restraints there, Leonard," Sam managed. "What the hell…?" McCoy yelled.

'Samantha' stood by the supply wall, calmly typing into the command console. With a 'pop' a surgical locker opened, and she reached a thin hand inside to rummage. "Hey!" McCoy shouted. She ignored him, and he checked himself as she retracted a laser scalpel. "Oh boy. Put that down, honey," he cajoled. Not listening in the slightest, she turned the implement over in her hands, examining it. She pushed the power button and lifted a curious brow as the laser blade sprang forth. "What do you think, Lieutenant?" the doctor said in a low voice. "Should I risk stunning her? Depending on where that thing lands, it could cause some serious damage."

"Just watch for now," Kirk replied cautiously. The two men observed her as she tested the blade against the edge of her hospital gown. She seemed satisfied when it parted the fabric easily. She turned her head up, seemingly examining herself in the reflective surface of the locker. Then she grabbed a hunk of her long tangled hair and neatly sliced through it with the scalpel. McCoy stifled the urge to shout, but couldn't stop himself from fidgeting nervously with his phaser.

Neatly, methodically, 'Samantha' sliced through her hair until the vast majority of it lay on the floor. What was left was a somewhat uneven blond mop ending just above her ears. She checked her reflection again, then deactivated the scalpel and moved to set it in the disinfectant bath. McCoy quickly pulled his weapon. "Hey!" Kirk said sharply, putting a restraining hand on the doctor's arm. "What do you need that for?"

"How in God's name did you get out of the restraints?" McCoy demanded, waving his phaser for emphasis. "For that matter, how did you get into my supply locker?" Blinking, the woman turned foggy eyes to the shouting man in front of her. It was clear by her demeanor that she would not be answering his questions, whether because she didn't understand him or because she was willfully disregarding him. Sam was inclined to think the latter. Various crew members often had a similar response to the doctor's tirades.

There was definitely evidence of Kirk-dom in her face, he decided. Her hair was the same sandy blond as his father's, but the eyes were the true giveaway. Bright, brilliant blue. Yes, he could see being related to this woman. "Maybe we should get Spock back in here," he said as McCoy wound down. "She seems to respond to him."

"If you call screaming like a banshee and clawing at him 'responding,' sure," Bones grumbled. Kirk shrugged. "Better than nothing," he said.


Spock left second shift and made his way down to the medical quarters, pausing briefly to roll his shoulders when he was sure he was alone. He had agreed to assist the doctor with this particular case, so any feelings of irritation or weariness were illogical. He found his two senior officers neatly gathered around a desk, trying to appear as though they weren't keeping Dr. Kirk obsessively in the periphery of their vision. "No more confinement?" he inquired politely.

"She hacked it," McCoy interjected in a flat tone. "Then she broke into my supply closet and stole a scalpel." Spock nodded. That explained her hair. "Why aren't you surprised?" the doctor snapped peevishly.

"Chief Engineer Kirk was once the foremost expert in starship mechanics, as well as a formidable code-writer. I would find myself more… surprised… if your security protocols presented difficulty to her." Watching her body language, he moved towards her and took a seat beside her cot. "Are you comfortable?" he asked her solemnly. She tilted her head, regarding him assessingly. "As I have previously stated, I am not here to do you harm. My culture, for the most part, is peaceful and dedicated to harmony. If you like, I can procure a translation of Surak's main philosophies for your perusal."

Her hand rose, coming towards his face. "Sammy, that's rude!" Lieutenant Kirk scolded. "Vulcans don't like to be touched!" The woman's lips pursed briefly. "I do not believe she likes that moniker," Spock remarked. There was no point in correcting the Lieutenant; it was true Spock avoided touching the human crew whenever possible; their negative emotions towards him made such encounters exceedingly disconcerting. He turned his attention back to his charge. "If it provides you comfort, I will permit physical contact," he told her. With a faint smile, she reached out and brushed her fingertips over his forehead as she had done when she'd first awoken. They tingled against his skin, but the sensation was not unpleasant. He felt irrationally gratified by her gradual return to reason, as though he had assisted in the creation of something fine. "Are you satisfied?" he asked her after a moment. She drew away soundlessly.

"Still not talking," Kirk noted sadly. Spock stifled a tinge of impatience. Humans were notoriously desirous of instant gratification. "Samantha?" Kirk attempted, approaching the cot. Spock noted the slight tensing of the woman's musculature. "I'm George Samuel Kirk, son of the same. I'm your… nephew, I guess."

The woman appeared to focus. "Do you know what year it is?" Kirk prompted gently. "Sam…" McCoy warned, but the Lieutenant ignored him. "It's 2262."

Dr. Kirk's eyes clouded over, in thought or in ignorance only telepathy would tell. She turned her head away from the crew members in an obvious dismissal. "Samantha," Kirk murmured miserably.

"I believe she has processed enough input for today," Spock said at last. McCoy nodded in reluctant agreement. "Gentlemen, let us depart."


"God damn it Chris, I'm a doctor, not a babysitter!" McCoy bellowed furiously. His underlying anxiety was effectively masked by his anger… if you were a human observer. Spock, however, found the entire charade risible. (If he were prone to laughter, which he was not.)

"I'm sorry," Pike replied in what was an attempt at a reasonable tone. "I'm just having a little difficulty believing that one half-dressed woman has managed to escape the Enterprise without using the shuttle or the transporter. If you have another explanation, feel free to voice it now."

"She has to be onboard," McCoy fretted restlessly. "There isn't a habitable planet within 8 light years. I checked!"

"Well, Doc, if she were on the ship, her vitals would show up, wouldn't they?" said Pike in his most captain-y voice.

"Hmm," said Spock.

"Hmm what?" snapped McCoy.

"She is probably on the Engineering Deck," Spock suggested. When they looked at him blankly, he elaborated. "Given that an unknown user accessed the ship's engine specifications approximately four standard hours ago, it would seem a likely locale."

"She ent down here," Scotty stated firmly after the initial onslaught. "I keep me deck clean! Nowhere for any beasties to hide!"

"I see," said Spock skeptically.

"Go on then, you tell me where a body might be!" Scott challenged. Ambling away from the knot of senior officers, Spock observed the engine room. Then looked up, at the vast network of criss-crossed tubing and valves. His eyes settled on a L-join near the bulkhead. "There," he said.

"No way," said Pike.

"I've already tried getting up there, ye canna do it withow' a scaffold," Ensign Scott added.

"Nevertheless," said Spock smoothly, striding over to stand under the indicated area. He cleared his throat. "Dr. Kirk?" he called. No answer.

"I tell ye -"

"Dr. Kirk, if you would please join us, I believe Mr. Scott would like to show you his newly revised theory of trans-warp beaming," Spock stated. While the others continued to make dismissive noises, he waited in silence, until a ragged blond head popped over the metal side of the join and everyone fell silent. "Perhaps nourishment is also in order?" Spock added reasonably.

"How the hell did she get up there?" Pike breathed.

"It really is a neat bit o' maths!" Scotty shouted, belatedly playing along.

Pike watched as the woman stood and unwound a length of flexible steel cable from her waist. He recognized the instrument as a magnetic fastener - programmable electromagnetic tips on each end allowed the user to secure cargo to any surface, providing it had an ionic charge. With a few swipes and twists, Samantha programmed one end. She then swung the cord in her hands like a slingshot and threw it towards the bulkhead. It connected with a thunk and stuck, creating a kind of rope ladder. She grasped the cable and swung away from her perch, sliding down to the floor. Simple. "Never thought of that," Scotty murmured to himself. Pike whistled appreciatively.

The cable stopped about four feet from the floor, and Spock chivalrously reached up and lifted her down by the waist. She input a command into the other end of the fastener and caught the whole apparatus neatly as it tumbled down from the ceiling, ignoring the way McCoy and Scotty ducked. She returned it to its coil around her waist and cocked her head at the Chief Engineer expectantly.

McCoy whipped out a hypospray, ready for action, but Spock shook his head at him. "I do not believe that is wise," he cautioned. "The hell it isn't!" McCoy insisted, but Pike placed a hand on the CMO's arm. "Leave it."

Scotty had shuffled the woman to his work console, rubbing his hands together in abject excitement. As he pulled up his formula, he kept darting glances at her face to gauge her reaction. She touched the screen. "Ye see, if space is the thing that's moving, then triangulating the other points becomes simple!" he told her enthusiastically. She nodded, manipulating the graphic and studying it from various angles.

Dr. McCoy made an abortive movement towards them, but Spock beat him to it. "Are you experiencing hunger?" he asked the woman lightly. "There are replicators located on each deck, but perhaps the ship's 'mess hall' would prove the most convenient location? It is equipped to manufacture a number of traditional Terran foods." She stared at him, but did not speak. "If you would specify your preference, I can acquire a dish for you," Spock continued.

She moved towards him. Then, reluctantly, she leaned towards his ear. Surprised but not discomfited, he bent his head down and allowed her to whisper something to him. His expression settled fractionally. "I see," he said. "That is a development I should have anticipated."

"What?" Pike demanded.

"Our guest does not speak modern Standard," Spock explained.