Watching the Captain Sleep
Without leaving the Bridge, Commander Spock was capable of remaining alert, with full efficiency, for another 53.92 hours. He considered retaining command of the Enterprise until such time as the Captain returned – or his own diminishing capacity made him unfit - but he reconsidered. At this juncture, such extreme measures were unnecessary; and, given both the current stable situation and the recent eventful one, it was more prudent that he surrender the Command Chair and rest while he could. With his decision made, and determined to complete one last task before retiring, he stood. "Mr. Sulu," he said, "you have the con."
"Aye, sir." The helmsman rose without delay to take the center seat.
Spock headed toward the turbolift, then paused, turning back to deliver one last order. "You will inform me immediately should conditions change for the worse."
"Yes, Commander. Of course," Sulu said with a nod, but Spock had anticipated the prompt affirmative, and was already moving.
Once in the turbolift, he manually entered the code that would deposit him near the ship's Medical Facilities. He appreciated the comparative silence: His days were spent in a welter of noise.
He knew that Doctor McCoy would be eager to engage him in conversation. He had no desire to fall victim to the doctor's frustrated ire. Further, he had already familiarized himself with the latest reports. He had the information he required; he had no need to become embroiled. He knew where he was going: He did not slow as he approached the doors.
Mr. Spock strode into Sickbay, his movements purposeful, as always. McCoy started to rise, to intercept him, but the Commander took no notice. The doctor watched him pass, wondering, once again, what could possibly be going on between those pointy ears.
Spock's momentum decreased as he approached the Captain's bedside. In deference to Kirk's privacy – and the need to maintain the illusion of an infallible chain of command – Doctor McCoy had partially drawn the curtain around the area.
Soundlessly, Spock moved closer. He stood for a moment, looking at the sleeping form of Captain Kirk.
Jim Kirk's injuries were not readily apparent, though Spock was well aware what they had been.
Kirk's body lay almost awkwardly, as though he had tried to shift but had not had the strength to fully rearrange himself.
One fist was half closed: He had fought against encroaching unconsciousness.
His hair was rumpled: In tending to his injuries, the Medical staff had done what was necessary - then left him to recover.
Jim's face was drawn - evidence of the pain he had experienced, and the tension still gripping him at the time of his sedation. Surely, that was on behalf of the crewmen still in jeopardy.
There were dark smudges under his eyes: He had pushed himself beyond the limits of his endurance.
A tiny vertical crease was evident between his brows. To Spock, this was a clear indication that Jim had been worried about the ship.
This last, at least, he could ease. This was, in part, why he had come. He leaned forward, placing one hand on the edge of Jim's bed; then spoke – slowly, calmly, clearly - his quiet voice trustworthy and tranquil. "Captain," he said, "the Enterprise is out of danger, and the crew are safe."
Jim did not stir; but after a few moments, the crease relaxed, smoothed.
Spock watched Jim Kirk sleep for one full second more.
Turning, then, the Vulcan left the Medical Facilities, without a backward glance. His duty was clear. He would maintain his own peak efficiency, and that of the ship. To do anything else was not logical.
Resentfully, McCoy watched him go. The Commander had stayed only a few minutes. Why had he even bothered?