Here it is, chapter four, sorry for the wait. I hope I didn't get anyone too worried. There should be at least one more chapter after this to wrap everything up. Please review. I like to know how I'm doing.
Spock's eyes swept over the room, taking in every detail of the scene with practiced efficiency.
A clearly incapacitated Christine was lying limply on the couch, with crewman Daniels poised over her, one hand at her collarbone, holding her down and the other hand undoing the fastening at the front of his pants. He was frozen, staring guiltily at Spock, his expression leaving no doubt as to what he had just interrupted.
All of this was observed and noted in the space of a nanosecond before the spell broke and Spock regained his composure. "Crewman," He said, with a dangerous edge to his voice as though struggling to maintain control. "What is the meaning of this?"
Daniels held his hands up defensively, a look of panic showing on his face as the severity of the situation registered for him. "Sir. It's...it's not what it looks like". He fumbled for an explanation, his eyes darting back to Christine who was stirring weakly, looking around her, an alarmed look slowly creeping over her features as she became aware of the situation.
Spock hit the intercom on the wall, ignoring Daniels completely. "Security to deck three, section C, Nurse Chapel's quarters".
Daniels continued to babble, directing his words first at Christine, and then Spock. "I can explain, It's not what you think... I-" His words were cut off as the heel of Christine's hand slammed into his face with an audible crunch. He fell back, blood spurting from a broken nose.
"Son of a..." He didn't finish the sentence, clutching his nose painfully.
Christine was now struggling to her feet, but the act of hitting Daniels seemed to have drained the last of her strength and she collapsed weakly, still trying to pull her disarranged dress back over her.
Spock moved to help her into a sitting position, putting himself between her and Daniels who was still sitting on the floor dazedly holding his broken nose. Although gallant, his gesture was hardly a necessary one, as it appeared that crewman Daniels would no longer be a threat.
"Sir?" Ensign Zahn appeared at the door, flanked by two other security men, peering questioningly at the scene before them.
"Take crewmen Daniels to the brig". Spock addressed the younger Vulcan. "I believe he will go without a fight."
"Yes sir." The three officers moved over to where Daniels lay. As predicted, the inebriated man went quietly. Spock had only known him a short time, but he seemed to him to be reasonable enough to know that any resistance would not aid his case.
Spock turned back to Christine, checking her pulse, which he found alarmingly slow. Her breathing was slowed to match and she seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness. He decided that her condition was far too severe to have been caused by alcohol consumption.
"Have sickbay send someone." He ordered Zahn, who nodded in acknowledgement. Daniels should have taken her straight there to begin with. However, Spock reflected, getting Christine to sickbay had clearly not been the first thing on Daniel's mind.
He forced down the feeling of disgust that welled up in his throat at that thought. Personal feelings were irrelevant. As first officer he was responsible for any disciplinary action taken against a member of the crew. And he would see to his duties...later. Right now his duty was to attend to his crew. He would go with her to sickbay and deal with Daniels in the morning, after the man had sobered up.
"She's not in any danger". M'Benga pronounced a short while later. "All we can do is keep her under observation until the drug has run it's course".
"So it was deliberate then?" Spock confirmed, scanning the readings above Christine's bed.
"We have no way of knowing tonight". M'Benga said grimly, coming to stand next to Spock. Doctor McCoy was still enjoying his shore leave with the Captain and both officers had agreed that it would be best if he didn't hear about any of this until Daniels was safely off the ship. "And unless the crewman confesses, you have no proof".
He was right, although attempted rape in itself was a charge severe enough to end a career. It would have to do.
"I have to finish my medical report", The doctor said, gathering his material. He stopped briefly to address the first officer before leaving . "There's really nothing else to be done until she wakes up."
Spock realized he was being kicked out. M'Benga would disappear into his office soon, leaving the duty nurse to monitor Christine's condition.
Out of curiosity, he stopped at the medical scanner that had been used to analyze her blood to see the results for himself. He scrolled through the readouts.
Quite suddenly he straightened up, his mouth set in a grim tight line, and strode out of sickbay ignoring the slightly bewildered looks from Dr M'Benga and Nurse Owens.
Leila yawned so wide that her jaw cracked. After one final drink for luck, she had finally conceded that it might be time to call it a night. She'd found her way to the transporter pad with the assistance of a very helpful busboy who'd kept trying to slip her the call number for his private transmitter.
Now, she found herself on board the Enterprise, stumbling slightly as the transporter beam released her. She smoothed a hand over her dress, regaining her composure.
The transporter technician nodded in greeting as she showed him her visitor ID.
Despite that last drink, she felt remarkably clear headed as she left the room. Her destination was the labs and she was headed there with one purpose in mind and one purpose only. The evening had gone unexpectedly well. She couldn't help but feel a small frisson of evil delight when she thought about what she had done. Christine, once she had sobered up, shouldn't be a problem from now on.
"Deck six". She said as the turbolift doors shut behind her. She leaned her head against the wall, eyes closed rehearsing what she would say to Spock.
She was abruptly pulled from her happy planning when the turbolift stopped unexpectedly, much to her annoyance.
Annoyance, which immediately turned to surprised delight when the door slid open to reveal just the person she'd been on her way to see.
"Spock". She smiled before her brain registered the grim expression in his face, which was echoed in his rigid bearing.
She fell back a step, her smile faltering as he stepped wordlessly into the turbolift never taking his eyes from her.
No sooner had the turbolift started moving than Spock's hand slammed down on the emergency brake, causing the lift to jerk to a stop, throwing her off balance.
"Spock?" Shock was quickly turning to confusion.
Abruptly, Spock's hand darted out again, this time to snatch the strap of her purse from her shoulder.
"Hey!"
He either didn't hear her or didn't care. He pawed at the contents of her purse with his free hand, finally drawing out the silver case that she kept her sleeping meds in. She had told him about it the first time they'd met, even letting him analyze the contents for her. It had seemed like a very sweet gesture on his part at the time.
Now however , something told her that she was about to regret it.
He tossed the purse carelessly back to her. "What is this Spock?" She asked accusingly, becoming downright mad.
Right now Spock was confirming the contents of the little silver case. Apparently satisfied he snapped it shut again, finally saying, "An analysis of this should prove interesting, don't you think?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked accusingly.
"What I mean Doctor Kalomi," He replied tersely, "Is that I believe proper testing will show this to be an exact match to the drug responsible for Nurse Chapel's condition at this time". He chose not to elaborate, leaving the rest to Leila's imagination.
"Condition?" There was a hint of concern in her voice, although somehow he doubted it was for Christine.
He continued as though she hadn't spoken. "However as with any medical matter, time is of the essence and it would be considerably more efficient if you'd simply tell me the crucial details".
Leila felt a creeping sense of panic come over her. Whatever was wrong with Christine, she was positive that her concoction wasn't responsible, and there was no way that she was taking the fall for something she hadn't done.
"There is nothing harmful in those and you know it". She said defiantly. "I may have used them on her but there's no way they caused whatever it is that's wrong with her. You can test them again yourself, they're perfectly safe".
Spock's only reply was a raised eyebrow. Truthfully he hadn't expected such a blatant confession so soon. He kept his expression neutral and glanced up at the ceiling of the torbolift.
She followed his gaze, noticing for the first time the security camera set into the ceiling recording everything for three hundred and sixty degrees around it. These sort of camera's were commonplace around the ship and she'd grown not to notice them.
"Did you know that the Enterprise uses audio recording devices as well as visual?" He asked conversationally, seeing the look of dawning realization creeping over her face. "It may also interest you to know that administering medication without consent is a crime within federation space."
"I..." Leila trailed off, at a loss for words, just realizing how neatly he'd trapped her with her own confession so willingly given. She cursed herself for her stupidity.
While she fumbled for some kind of defence, Spock reached past her for one of the torbolifts handles.
"Deck nine". He commanded. The brig.
"Spock please." She tried to appeal to the part of him she'd known on Omicron Ceti. The part that had hung upside down from a tree branch for her amusement.
But that part of him seemed gone. "Formal charges will be brought against you. By Starfleet, and I'm sure by Miss Chapel when she regains consciousness. I would suggest that you remain silent for the remainder of your stay."
"You're really going to do this? To me." She asked in disbelief. "What about us?"
"Us?" He asked, his brow furrowing. "To whom are you referring?"
"You and me. We...I thought... After everything we've shared, you'd turn on me like this". Tears began to well up in her eyes.
His face remained impassive, untouched by her dramatics. He knew from experience that it was easier just to let her run through her standard performance before trying to speak with her again.
She was turning away from him now, hugging herself as she sobbed. This was supposed to be his cue to reach out to her, turn her towards him and assure her that it was alright.
That had been his mistake last time, he reflected, playing into her theatrics. He had wanted to end his association with her on a positive note. At the time, he'd pitied her for her ignorance regarding him. But now he had the added advantage of knowing that her ignorance was more wilful than natural.
He'd been patiently understanding with her enough times already. Now, he would let her play out her routine uninterrupted till they reached the brig.
Gradually her tears subsided, as she realized that he was unmoved by them. He should have said something by now, taken her in his arms and told her that he still cared deeply for her. She wiped her eyes, turning to see him staring straight ahead at the gray walls of the torbolift, with his usual Vulcan calm. What she would have given to see him smile or cry, anything but that infuriating unreadable blankness.
"That's it then?" she asked disbelievingly. "Do you not care about me at all? Are you really that heartless?"
He turned the word over in his mind. Was he heartless? The image of Christine, helpless beneath crewman Daniels flashed through his mind, accompanied by surge of almost animalistic fury, which he parcelled away and buried with years of practice. But it was undeniably present.
"No." He answered at last. "I am not heartless. I'm Vulcan. There's a difference".
Just then. The turbolift ground to a halt at deck nine, where Leila would be handed over to security, till they reached the nearest star base.
Spock had no regrets whatsoever.