Darkness. Confusion. Spock was trapped in a strange, shadowy realm of pain and anxiety. He was both highly alarmed and dreadfully tired – he felt a disconcerting desire to sink into forgetfulness coupled with a frantic worry, a strong desire to take action. He knew that something horrible had happened, but no matter how his mind struggled, how couldn't remember what it was.
Slowly, the darkness in his mind began to fade. He could hear soft voices and the quiet hum of machinery. There was a soothing, mental presence nearby. I am someplace familiar, thought Spock. Someplace safe. Gradually, he regained consciousness to find himself lying on a bed in Sickbay's intensive care unit, hooked up to an IV. He felt unimaginably weak, as if lying on a bed doing nothing was almost more than he could handle. Nurse Chapel was by his side.
His initial attempts to ask her what happened emerged as a low moan.
"Mr. Spock," she said softly, leaning towards her patient. "Can you hear me?"
" . . . Yes . . . what happened?"
"Please do not try to move. You've just been through surgery. You were seriously injured when the second shockwave emitted by the spatial anomaly impacted the ship."
Spock suddenly remembered: the hostile cloud, the destruction of the Silver Arrow, the failed anti-matter shield.
"The child!" he gasped.
"The baby is fine. Please relax. When you were thrown to the deck, the placenta sustained heavy damage. Dr. McCoy was able to repair the damage before the baby was harmed. You've got minor internal bleeding and some cracked ribs. You've lost a lot of blood, but with plenty of rest you and the baby will both be fine."
Spock spent the next several hours resting and thinking. He felt strangely relieved in a way that he'd never thought possible. Naturally, one would feel satisfaction knowing that the life form one carried was uninjured by an accidental fall; what Spock was experiencing, however, was so much more than mere satisfaction. He realized that although the child was unwanted and unplanned, he'd already come to think of the baby as a part of himself – perhaps the most important part. Faced with nearly losing the child, he now thought of the baby as unimaginably precious. He felt connected to the child in a way he'd never felt connected to anyone before: not his parents, not even Jim.
This is my child, he thought. This is my family, my own flesh and blood. My child needs me . . . and I need my child as well. He laid his hands on his belly, feeling a terrible wave of sorrow in that his child was almost lost to him. He felt a stinging sense of self-blame that he, his child's sanctuary, had allowed the two of them to be put into danger. This feeling of utter connection, this close relationship, was a strange feeling – when had this occurred? When had he gone from regretting his body's reproductive initiative to deeply treasuring the result? It was as if an unbreakable bond had grown between them. Spock felt as if the life form developing inside of him was a little piece of his soul, without which he was incomplete. Little as he wanted to admit to himself, he loved the child deeply. It was as if the unborn baby radiated a sweet aura of total acceptance, of total completion that filled an empty space within him that he never knew was there. And in return, the baby needed his love as well. It was the most mysterious and beautiful form of symbiosis that he had ever encountered. The two of them needed each other. Before, he had been one alone, one searching for something – now, he had found it.
His eyes suddenly snapped open in revelation. That was it. A partnership, a correlation. Thus far, the Federation had only tried to eliminate or neutralize the weapon. What if instead, they accommodated it? What if they gave it what it was programmed to seek? Spock used the bedside communicator to call the Captain.
He had a new plan to deal with this anomaly.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"A second cloud?" exclaimed Kirk. "Spock, are you sure you didn't hit your head during that last attack? Isn't one destructive cloud bad enough?"
"One cloud is not necessarily 'bad,' merely unbalanced," replied the convalescent. "We cannot destroy or stop the cloud, but there is a way to render it harmless. If we create a second cloud that emits the G2 electromagnetic energy the anomaly craves, a cloud that feeds on the counter-radiation emitted by the first cloud, then they will be drawn to one another. There will be no need to target Sol. Earth and her colonies will be safe."
"And where will these two clouds go?"
"They will float off into empty space together – they will still exist, but they will pose no threat to any planet, star, or civilization."
Kirk knit his eyebrows and brought his hand to his chin in his typical gesture of reflection.
"I don't like the idea of potentially multiplying our problem by two, but we're out of options. I'll put together a team straight away. We'll call you if we need your advice, but you're staying here to rest for now. I sure hope this works, Spock."
"I have a 'feeling' that it will," replied the Vulcan calmly.
It was Jim's turn to raise his eyebrows as he left the Sickbay to get to work.