Chapter 9

So Close, So Distant

That was the longest night Montgomery Scott could remember, including the one after graduation, when he woke up in an almost the same condition as the proverbial Scotsman from an old song. This, however, was different. This night started approximately when their desperate flight from Kroulen had occurred in pursuit of the four kidnapped crewmen, and there seemed to be no end in sight. On the contrary, it was getting darker and darker by the day. There had been no news from the Captain, Uhura or Mr. Spock, and no way could they find to get through the ring of blockade.

Scotty discovered he couldn't sleep. Alone in his quarters, he was spending night after night gazing at the bottle of scotch Kirk had given him for his birthday almost four months ago. In a way, the amber liquid reminded him of the Captain by mere power of subconscious association. It was gold and pure in all the right proportions to distract one's attention long enough in order to make them fail to notice that objects appeared slightly altered coming through that seemingly transparent looking glass.

That was Jim Kirk as well, seemingly easy to grasp, yet keeping his distance with a shiny smile, making people feel privileged just to be in his presence. He dominated whatever room he was currently in, regardless of any disguise he might be wearing. He was born a leader, inducing people with irresistible urge to follow him to whatever crazy adventure he had in mind.

Then, there was Spock, Scotty thought. He had been serving with the Vulcan for many years, and still couldn't say he knew him. He doubted anyone could, though he, too, along with many sharp eyes on board, had noticed the signs of a tentative rapport beginning to form between the Science Officer and the Captain. At any rate, Spock's presence, though always rendering any gathering a certain hint of unease, was, at the same time, strangely comforting and reassuring. While he was around, there was always certainty to hear the voice of reason regardless of the circumstances.

As his thoughts drifted towards Uhura, Scotty sighed gravely. He tried not to dwell on what might be happening to her and the others in the Orions' hands, because every time the thought occurred he showed an unfortunate tendency to smash something. He remembered that Lieutenant Quaint was a close friend of Engineer Mathewson, his own deputy, and clenched his fists in helpless frustration, thinking of Mandy's grim face and snappish one-syllable answers to whatever question was posed to her these days.

The crew was devastated and exhausted; he didn't need a doctor to see that. During the daytime, he tried to talk to as many people as his duties permitted him to, showing support and reassurance, but he was running out of consoling words to tell them. He desperately needed some reassurance himself, realizing for the first time exactly what it meant to be a captain.

"Mr. Scott to the Bridge, please," the intercom came to life suddenly. "Mr. Scott to the Bridge."

Not expecting any good news, Scotty pressed the button.

"Scott here. Report."

"Sir, we are detecting an object, coming from the blockaded zone," Reilly reported. "Looks like a Federation shuttle."

The Engineer sat up straighter at once. "One of ours?"

"No, sir," Lieutenant DeSalle sounded mildly surprised. "It's a long range shuttle, we've never carried those."

"And it's coming from the Orion side?" Scotty frowned. "That's odd."

"Sir, its course is completely erratic. I think it's in some kind of trouble."

"Engage tractor beam, Mr. DeSalle," Scotty ordered. "Pull it into the shuttle bay, I'm coming to take a look. Call Mandy in there and also one of those blasted doctors."

"Aye, sir. Bridge out."

"Damn," Scotty muttered, getting up on his feet with some newly discovered energy. "Ain't all the crackpots coming from Orion tonight?"

When he entered the shuttle bay, everyone he ordered to be there were present, including both doctors; the maintenance crew was already working on opening the shuttle doors.

"What's happened to that thing?" Scotty demanded in surprise, addressing no one in particular. The shuttle looked like it'd been used as a toy for some evil baby-giant.

Mathewson came to his side. "Looks like it's coming straight down from hell, Mr. Scott," she said. "Not a piece of the hull intact."

With a dreadful rattling sound, the shuttle doors swung open, making one of the techs lose his balance. Everyone stared at the hatchway, as a long broad figure appeared in it, swaying slightly and wincing at the bright lights.

"What ship is that?" the man asked hoarsely, looking around wildly.

"The Enterprise," Scott answered, watching him curiously.

"The Enterprise?!" the stranger's eyes snapped wide open, as he whirled his head around, trying to discover some evidence of the opposite. "Of all the possible darned Starfleet tin cans, I had to end up on the Enterprise!"

Reilly threw a wary glance at Scott, whose face darkened instantly, as if a storm cloud had nestled upon his head.

"Listen, Mister –"

"And where's you blasted captain? I demand to speak to him at once!"

"Who the hell are ye to demand anything on my ship?" Scotty exploded, supported by general murmur of the crew, angry with the way the Captain was referred to.

"I'm Federal Commissioner Batim," he introduced himself pompously. "Who are you?"

"Chief Engineer Scott, currently in command."

"Ha! Tell me, Mr. Scott, does this pesky vessel even have a captain? Or are you simply in league with that goddamned Vulcan in hiding him from any piece of actual job so that he won't get his hands dirty?"

"Mandy!" Reilly shouted, as Scotty's deputy stepped forward menacingly.

"Don't you dare insult Mr. Spock or the Captain, you, nasty little excuse for a man," she spat furiously, advancing on him.

"I don't think the Commissioner wanted to insult anyone," Doctor Reese said suddenly. "Looks to me like he's being delusional. Wouldn't you agree?" He turned to his colleague.

"Oh, absolutely," Doctor Stein nodded readily. "He's most definitely delirious. I believe some tranquilizer is in order."

"My thoughts exactly."

"First time for anything," Reilly commented, still keeping a close eye on Mathewson.

"Watch your tongue, you're addressing a Federal Commissioner," Batim scolded them, red faced with indignation. "Now, Mr. Scott, if you're in command, I order you to take me to the nearest starbase at once. I have an urgent report to deliver."

"No way," Scotty shook his head, no less infuriated than his people and only keeping in check remembering his status. "I have eight crewmembers behind the Orion blockade, and I ain't going anywhere until they're all home."

"I don't give a damn for your crewmembers, I have the supreme authority aboard any Starfleet vessel, as you very well know!"

"And I don't give a damn about yer authority! Aboard a starship, there's no greater authority than that of her captain!"

"Are you disobeying my orders, Mr. Scott?" Batim hissed in his face. "You're gonna get busted out of your precious Starfleet faster than you can say 'warp drive.'"

"Aye, but it'll be for a reason," he looked over at security guards. "Take him to the brig."

"Yessir!" they snapped to attention happily.

"What?! You dare not arrest me!"

"I'm not arresting ye," Scott informed him gravely. "I'm holding ye in contempt for being disrespectful of Starfleet. Get him outta here."

The indignant shouts and threats echoed loudly in the corridors, as the guards steered the unwilling passenger away.

"You do realize, he's gonna complain, don't you?" Mathewson asked Scott quietly. "They might listen to him."

Scotty, however, was staring at the crippled shuttle thoughtfully.

"I realize," he toned pensively, "Yes, I realize something. If that idiot had been able to come outta there, we can get in the same way. Lieutenant, check his logs and navigational records. I wanna know exactly how he managed to get through this blasted circle."

"Aye, sir," she nodded. "Mr. Reilly."

Together, they climbed into the shuttle. Scotty waited, pondering his actions from just a few moments ago. He wasn't sorry one beat about the way he treated the Commissioner, but he couldn't be happy about the inevitable consequences. Now, however, was not the time to think about it yet.

"Mr. Scott," Mathewson emerged from the distorted craft. "You're not gonna like it, sir."

"What?"

"That idiot," she almost spat the word. "According to the logs, he took the shuttle through the asteroid field in sector four-seven-four."

"That field is too dense to allow even a shuttle to pass through it," Scotty said frowning. "How–"

"He literary blasted his way through it," Mathewson said in disgust. "Transferred all power to phasers and... No wonder his shuttle is in that condition. It's a miracle he's made it even that far."

"Good gracious," Scotty sighed aghast. "He is mad, that one. A shuttle can't withstand..." he fell silent abruptly. "Aye, a shuttle can't, but we can. He's cleared just enough space for us to get through, with a wee bit of help from our own phaser banks."

Mathewson looked dubious. "But what of the Orions?"

"They don't expect anyone coming from there, do they?" the Engineer mused. "Could be our only chance."

"Aye, sir," she sighed. "I'll see to it you have everything we got."

--

"So basically, after I made them alter course, it's been one disaster after another. We've made it to Callinah, though for the life of me, I still don't know how, and gathered the damned plants. But after that ..."

"I made Quaint and Sulu check all systems," Kirk told him reassuringly, as they walked into a dimly lit observation deck. "Don't worry, Bones, we'll make it."

"You can't know how glad I am to see you, Jim," McCoy shook his head in tired admiration. "One more day like that, and those damn cadets would have cost me my sanity."

"Well, one more day looking like an Orion would have probably killed me, too. Thanks, Bones," Kirk ran his fingers through his hair with obvious pleasure at the familiarity of the sensation. "You still haven't told me how you'd made the Calliopeans to accept your help," Kirk reminded him patiently. "You were talking about some test."

"Pure madness," McCoy frowned at the reminder. "Batim might have been an arrogant son of bitch, but this time he was right, a barbaric ritual. Imagine a maze, full of that blasted fog of theirs where you can't see a thing. You have to find your way through it. Inside, there's a wild beast that, unlike you, can see perfectly well, and the only thing it wants to see is your throat."

"Not a very endearing prospect," Kirk shuddered.

"It's not the end of it. The maze's full of weapons, but you can't defend yourself. Even if the blasted thing is killing you, you can't even push it away."

"Wonderful," the Captain winced, picturing the scene. "I believe I'd look for an alternate solution."

"Well, that's probably what you might have done, though knowing you, I doubt it," McCoy shrugged in exasperation, "but that green-blooded demon of yours found nothing better, than allowing himself to be locked up with that Calliopean impersonation of a wild boar; and, when we opened that door," he sighed heavily, "there was hardly any blood in him left."

Never, in all his years of practicing medicine, had McCoy seen anyone go so shockingly pale so quickly, as if all the blood was sucked out by some mother of vampires in one mighty gulp. Like an attacking cobra, Kirk's hand shot forward, as if it lived its own life, and gripped the Doctor's arm painfully.

"He's fine, Jim," McCoy hastened to say, startled by his reaction. "Or at least, he was fine when I left him. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to -"

Kirk shook his head, letting go of McCoy and making several steps around the room, calming his breath. Watching him, McCoy couldn't help but curse himself mutely. Where had he been looking? It was all in front of his eyes, in plain view.

"Anyway," he cleared his throat. "Just as we discovered the means to make the vaccine work, we learned about the blockade. Then the Intrepid fell down on our heads with those blasted Vulcan kiddies on board, and Spock, no doubt in some exercise of twisted Vulcan humor, made me take command. You know the rest."

Kirk nodded, still silently, pacing slowly across the room. Finally, he came to a stop in front of McCoy and looked at him tentatively.

"Bones," he said hesitantly, as if feeling his way. "How was Spock doing – other than physically?"

McCoy sighed heavily. Where had he been looking, indeed?

"Jim, why didn't you tell me you and he were so close?"

That gave Kirk a start; his head snapped backwards, and he instinctively took a step away.

"What do you mean? I'm only asking -"

"I know what you're asking. What I mean is, you nearly fainted just then, when I told you he was injured, and he mutters your name in his sleep, your first name, mind you, when apparently he tries to apologize to you for something he considers to be an unforgivable transgression."

For a moment, Kirk stared at him, clearly trying to decide whether he was in a position to deny anything. Then, he sighed too.

"He has nothing to apologize to me for," he said.

McCoy nodded curtly, without leaving him out of his appraising gaze for a second.

"That's what I'm starting to think, too. In fact, I'm starting to think that whenever this is over, I should lock you two up in a room and not let you out until you have talked about everything that's bothering you like grownups do."

Kirk smiled wryly. "Maybe it's not such a bad idea. Let's hope that whenever this is over, we'll still have some room to be locked up in."

He turned to go, but McCoy called after him.

"Jim." Kirk turned to face him. "Don't ever lie to me again about something as important. I'm a doctor. I can't help you if I don't know the truth."

Slowly, Kirk nodded his assent.

"You got it, Bones. But I wasn't silent on purpose," he shrugged, with a thoughtful expression on his face. "I guess I didn't tell you, because I didn't know."

Long after he was gone, McCoy stared after him, pondering the implications of everything he had just witnessed. He realized what it had cost Jim to make this sort of admission, and he knew, his friend would be extremely edgy about the topic again. That was the price of sincerity, which he never would have got had they been aboard the Enterprise, where Jim would have been in his all-captain mode. McCoy could only hope that this new realization would last long enough to make the right impact on Jim, who so obviously needed to re-discover himself, now more than ever.

--

Darkness, which she got used to so much to consider an ally, surrendered some of her intensity to the glimmering light of stars.

"Spock?" Sanaya called out uncertainly. "Are you there?"

But it became clear in a moment that he wasn't in his improvised lab. She stepped through the inner doors into an early night outside, and spotted a lean figure immediately, sitting on a cliff, gazing into the starry sky.

"Spock, what are you doing here?" she asked with a kind smile, coming over to him. "Everybody's looking for you. Sanar is ordering to organize other shelters, since this one has worked so well. People want to thank you."

"They have nothing to thank me for," he said in a low even voice, without looking back.

"Of course, they do," Sanaya told him. "I realize it's not enough to save everyone, but at least we can take care of the children now. You've freed us of a great burden, Spock. We are grateful."

His shoulder moved, as if in an imitation of a shrug.

"You are welcome."

She came to his side, watching him with growing concern.

"Spock, are you all right? When was the last time you've had any food?"

"I am not hungry," he shook his head softly.

"No, you never are, are you? Spock, you have to take care of yourself. We can't afford to lose you right now."

"You are in no danger of this happening," he assured her. "But, since we are on the subject, when was the last time you -"

"Oh, I'm fine," she waved his question off dismissively. "I've spent the afternoon with the children; we've had lunch. Spock, please," she said pleadingly after a pause. "What's wrong?"

"I assure you, Chancellor, all is well. It is a starry night tonight. I was in need of some air."

She took the last step toward him, concentrating in a desperate attempt to see his face in the darkness. Suddenly, she noted his depressed, all too quiet posture, as if he was looking inward, his lowered shoulders and bowed head. In a breathtaking strike of insight, she guessed:

"You're lonely, aren't you?"

He winced as if in sudden pain.

"Vulcans cannot feel lonely," he said slowly, in an almost uncertain voice.

"Maybe they can't," Sanaya agreed softly. "But you do. Of course, you do. How can you not? You've been under such a strain lately. You are marooned here, on this dark, dying planet, separated from everything... from everyone who's dear to you. Who is it that you're thinking of, Spock, sitting here and wondering if you're both seeing the same star?"

Spock was silent for a long while, and then, suddenly, surprising himself no less than her, he spoke, answering not this, but another question, asked in another voice at another time.

"A friend is someone you are willing to trust not only with your life, but with everything that you are, because you know he would rather die than betray you. A friend is someone, whose opinion of you is far more valuable, than that of your own farther. A friend is someone, whose happiness means more to you – however illogically – than the wellbeing of other people. That is why," he said with unspeakable bitterness, "Vulcans do not have friends. That is too illogical. Too dangerous. Vulcans do not have friends."

"Vulcans don't," she reiterated, with tears of sympathy in her voice. "But you do. Why eating yourself up because of this? If that is what you think of friendship, isn't it good that you have a friend?"

"I do not," he shook his head sadly. "I used to. But I did not know it at the time. I was too preoccupied, trying to convince myself I did not feel friendship because I was ashamed of it. But shame, too, is an emotion. Thus, I failed everyone: my own people; my friend."

"Spock..."

His head snapped toward her, as his hand caught her wrist, squeezing it hard.

"I wronged him, Sanaya. The only thing he had ever asked of me was not to change who I am, or to act like the rest of them. The only thing he had ever asked of me was to stand by his side. And I refused."

"Why?" tears were streaming down her cheeks now, as she looked into his eyes, feeling his pain.

"After what I had done, I did not believe myself worthy."

"You? Unworthy? Oh, Spock..." she looked away for a moment, then turned back, slightly calmer. "There's one thing you forgot to say about friendship, Spock. A friend is someone who forgives you, whatever you have done."

"But I –"

"Whatever you have done. If he is your friend."

And then, seeing his continuing torment, she did what women had been doing in situations like that since the dawn of days. She put her arms around his shoulders, pulling him gently towards her, whispering meaningless words of comfort to his ear. Her lips found his in a soft, tender touch, telling him soundlessly that he was worthy a thousand of stars, the whole galaxy in her opinion.

Spock's hesitation was no longer than a heartbeat. In one powerful, desperate effort of his soul, he forbade himself to think any further, letting his hands slide around her waist, and there was nothing shy or uncertain about his touch, precise, and confident, and full of passion.

"No," Sanar whispered, catching Nort by the arm. "Let them be."

They went in search of both Spock and Sanaya, and were now standing at the doors of the lab, watching two merged silhouettes at the distance.

"But he's a stranger!" Nort whispered back anxiously. "Your sister, Ruler-"

"My sister loves him," Sanar said calmly. "I have known it for quite some time. And he is going to die with us, Nort. Let them have what short time we all have. Let's go."

Reluctantly, the older man nodded, and they stepped inside quietly, letting two hearts beat rapidly in a desperate race under the watchful stars.