Uhura had never been happier to see the Enterprise in her life. The Twilight's viewscreen split and displayed the Enterprise's bridge on one half, with Spock standing in front of the captain's chair, hands clasped behind his back.
Next to her, McCoy said, "Spock, you have no idea how good it is to see you guys again."
She didn't miss Spock's scanning of the Twilight's bridge, eyes pausing at herself and McCoy, then narrowing.
"Doctor. Lieutenant. I am glad a solution was available which allowed you to return to us. Where is the captain?"
"I'm here, Spock."
Chekov started and peered down at his station's display; Sulu leaned over to look as well. Spock glanced over their shoulders, then looked back at the viewscreen. Uhura was maybe the only one who knew him well enough to read the subtle reaction that played over his features (aside from Kirk). "As I cannot see you and your communication is coming direct to the ship over the main frequency, am I correct in assuming you are piloting that vessel?"
"You are."
Spock's mouth set in a forbidding line. McCoy said, "I told him you'd be pissed."
Somehow Kirk made his exasperation clear enough to survive the translation software. "We will have this conversation later."
"Indeed we will," Spock said. Uhura had to work to keep a smile off her face.
Kirk's tone telegraphed that he was ignoring that last part. "The Praxidians are bringing the other Pilot over now. Spock, I need you and Riley to transport here so you can come with McCoy and I to the other ship."
Spock glanced at McCoy, and Uhura saw the doctor give him a hard look. Spock nodded minutely.
"Spock to Professor Riley."
"Riley here."
"Professor, if you could please come to Transporter Room Three."
"On my way, Commander."
"Mr. Sulu, you have the conn."
"Yes sir."
Reading body language over a viewscreen was always tricky, but Uhura was sure Spock's eyes met hers as he made his way to the turbolift, and that he wore the ghost of a smile for a fraction of a second.
Spock and Riley arrived on the ship with little fanfare. McCoy had hoped for a few minutes to speak to them in private, but he didn't get the chance; no sooner had they come off the shuttle than the General greeted them and turned them all over to Xorila, who led them through the ship's corridors to the pilothouse antechamber. Inside was another systems engineer with chitin in an eye-popping shade of lime green, who introduced himself as Qoryl of the Shadow Upon the Sand. Two other groups of Praxidians stood inside along the walls; a pair to one side, and a knot clustered around something that McCoy couldn't see.
Xorila went to one of the panels and performed a series of gestures, then said, "Pilot?"
"Here."
McCoy grimaced. He'd been listening to Jim's voice through a Praxidian translation filter for over two hours, and it was still uncomfortable to hear.
A panel flickered, and there was Jim, or at least a rendering of him in his black undersuit from the chest up. Kevin stared with obvious amazement, but Uhura grimaced and Spock, even through his usual manner, seemed impatient.
Xorila addressed the display. "We will now place you in stasis and move you to the engineering facility of the Shadow Upon the Sand. Engineer Qoryl will accompany you and your crewmembers."
"But not you." Jim looked hesitant, even concerned. McCoy had to admit he wasn't keen on Jim being handed over to another Praxidian; at least they had some sort of rapport with Xorila.
"No, I must oversee the installation of the Twilight's next Pilot. I will visit you on the Shadow as soon as I may."
"Okay." Jim hesitated, then said, "Thanks."
"We have done little to earn your thanks, Pilot, but you have done a great deal for us. It is we who thank you, for the return of our vessel, and the lives of the crew of the Dancer in the Void."
Jim looked like he was going to refute that, then his expression changed to something more somber. "Ah, you're welcome." McCoy could almost imagine the embarrassed gestures he would have made if he'd been standing there; in their place, there was only a small pause, then Jim said, "Okay. Here goes nothing," and the rendering winked out.
Xorila swept her hand across another panel. "AI, please disengage the Pilot."
"Confirmed, Engineer Xorila. Placing the Eighth Pilot into stasis."
Numerous displays in the antechamber flashed and went dark. Around them there was the sense of various sections of the ship falling silent. On the few panels still lit, script and diagrams flew by too fast for McCoy to follow (not that he could read them anyways), then the AI announced, "Pilot disengaged."
The shutter hatch opened, and the white, articulated arm slowly pulled the silver-green pod into the antechamber. McCoy caught a glimpse of the pilothouse itself before the hatch closed, something he'd only heard Spock and Scotty describe: a large, spherical room lined with cabling and wires and ringed along the top and bottom with running lights in white, yellow, and blue.
Xorila began tapping various locations on the pod's surface. Symbols and script followed wherever her fingers touched. "All vital signs are stable." She nodded at Qoryl, then went over to the knot of other engineers, and he took her place.
Qoryl looked to Spock. "Engineer Xorila has indicated your desire to contribute to finding a solution to this one's unique situation. As we have limited knowledge of human neuroengineering, your contributions will be necessary to ensure success." He included Kevin, Uhura, and McCoy in this statement with a measured look at each of them.
"Absolutely," Kevin said, and McCoy thought he sounded on edge.
Spock nodded in agreement. "We will assist in any way required."
"Then we will proceed to the Shadow Upon the Sand. The facilities there are more appropriate to this endeavor." His nerve bundles twitched, and the two engineers who had been lingering out of the way stepped forward. Qoryl tapped the surface of the pod and it slipped free of the arm, and he nodded for them to follow him. The other two fell in behind them, guiding the pod, which hovered in perfect silence.
As they made their way down the hall McCoy glanced back over his shoulder. Just before the antechamber door shut, he saw Xorila and the other engineers settling a yellow-metallic pod onto the white arm.
He didn't hear Xorila's command to the AI so much as feel it. The various subsystems of the ship slipped free of him and the AI swept in to gather them up. The main grid was the last one to go; when that connection closed, he felt like a ship whose anchorline had been cut. The AI's signal grew weaker and weaker as the currents of his mindspace, no longer constrained by the ship's systems, bore him away on their internal tide.
After the organized cacophony of the Twilight, his own mind was a welcome respite. The only sounds came from his memories and thoughts, which coalesced into the rhythmic rise and fall of ocean waves. (They were his and the Pilot's, really, yet it was impossible to tell where one of them stopped and the other started, and he imagined that meant there wasn't much of a difference anymore.) He drifted between stars and comets and nebulae and rings of rock and ice, and marveled at how very much he had seen in such a short life, and how much more there was still to explore.
He relaxed, waiting for the inevitable moment when he'd wake, and hoped he could bring even a tiny sliver of the peace he felt with him.