A/N: This is part two of The Enemy Within chapter.
Spock and I meet up with Kirk at the turbolift, then proceed to the engineering deck. I walk next to Spock, the Captain slightly ahead of us. Both senior officers have phasers holstered to their hips. The dimly lit metallic room casts ghastly shadows on the walls. We tread soundlessly, eyes and ears alert.
Spock takes his phaser out of its holster. "Set and locked to base cycle to stun, not kill." We move a few steps before Spock turns to Kirk. "What about your phaser, Captain?"
Kirk switches the phaser from his hip to his hand, somewhat lazily.
The eerie silence and heavy shadows of the looming engineering deck make the back of my neck prickle.
"Don't you think we ought to get some help, Captain?" Spock stops at a break between the walls.
"No. I don't want anyone else to see the . . ." Kirk mutters, his voice losing strength with every word.
"Captain, you ordered me to tell you–"
"Mr. Spock." Kirk cuts him off. "If I'm to be the captain, I've got to act like one."
The science officer's silence is his consensus. He continues in through the gap in the wall and I follow close behind. The expanse of his shoulders and the glossy shine of his hair are my view for a few moments. He stops and I come out from around him. We neither see nor hear anything. I continue forward, this time he follows behind.
It can't be more than a minute later when I hear muttering from the other direction. I frown. There shouldn't be anyone else down here. I toss my head in the direction of the noise and Spock nods. We move forward so quickly and silently I'm nearly tiptoeing.
"You can't kill me. You can't." The captain can be heard from our current position behind a rather large computer. "Don't you understand? I'm a part of you."
I peek around the corner and feel Spock do the same. The warmth of his proximity radiates off of him and finds me. My eyes shoot up to his cheek near the top of my head, his complete attention on the scene unfolding on the other side of us. I've never been this close to his face before. I can smell his after shave – it smells faintly of herbs, like basil. The scent has my head swirling and I try my utmost not to take a deep whiff – he'd notice that. Instead I focus on the hollow of his cheeks and the rise of his zygomatic arch. The man has smile creases and I wonder how and when those formed. I scan his nose from bridge to tip, then follow the natural inclination to his lips. His top lip is thin, the shape of an elegant bow and his lower lip is a plump arc the shade of an evening rose. He has a strong chin and I follow the solid curve of his jaw line. A very kissable, strong, jawline.
I'm startled from my observation when he moves forward toward the Kirk in the yellow shirt – the duplicate and the one with the phaser in hand. In one quick motion he disables the 'other' Kirk with a strange nerve-pinch attack at the base of his neck. The Kirk in yellow arches rigidly before crumpling to the floor, his finger curling round the phaser's trigger and firing a shot that barely misses the captain. And thus, the threat is neutralized.
I step out from behind my spot and Kirk kneels beside his other self.
"Well, that went smoothly." I breathe a smile. "Good job, Spock."
"Thank you." He responds as stoic as possible, though clearly pleased.
"Hey now, I did all the talking down." Kirk objects, wanting in on the props.
"Yes." I agree flatly, trying my damndest not to give him what he seeks, teasing him. "You did."
Before the captain can squeeze more out of me, Mr. Spock interrupts. "Captain, we must get your duplicate to sickbay. Dr. McCoy may need to run diagnostics."
We wait silently in sickbay for Doc's report. Spock and I are waiting by the entrance to the examination room while the captain sits at the computer desk.
Doc comes to us, addressing Spock more than anyone else. "He'll be regaining consciousness soon. And not knowing what his physical state is, I don't think I'd dare give him a tranquilizer of any kind." He turns to Kirk when the other man stands to make his way toward us. "I think we better bind him."
"Yes. Yes, alright." Kirk mumbles.
Both Spock and Doc regard Kirk dubiously. Doc strolls back into the examination room, but Spock has not removed the captain from his line of sight.
"What's the matter with me?" Kirk exhales sharply.
I lean against the doorframe, looking on as McCoy binds the knocked out version of Kirk.
"Judging from my observations, Captain, you're rapidly losing the power of decision."
"You have a point, Spock?" Doc snarls with sarcasm from the bedside.
"Yes, always Doctor." Spock's head whips toward Doc, pushing off the wall, taking three steps. His shoulders are drawn and fierce, and it is mind boggling to me how people do not see the man I see. His ferocious strength. He is far from cold, he's hot. In more ways than one.
He stops in the middle of the room before whipping back around to face Kirk. "We have here an unusual opportunity to appraise the human mind. Or to examine, in Earth words, the roles of good and evil in a man." He pauses briefly to look from Kirk and me, to the Kirk being bound by Dr. McCoy. "His negative side, which you call hostility, lust, violence." Doc glares at Spock, but the Vulcan continues with his point. "And his positive side, which Earth people express as compassion, love, tenderness."
I am silent, pleased at his knowledge of emotion.
"It's the Captain's guts you're analyzing. Are you aware of that, Spock?" Doc's eyes burn bright.
"Yes." Spock nods with his eyebrows raised as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. "And what is it that makes one man an exceptional leader? We see here indications that it is his negative side, which makes him strong." He explains with vindication. "That his evil side, if you will, properly controlled and disciplined, is vital to his strength." Doc leans against the bedframe, his hand at his hip and Spock faces Kirk again, stepping toward him. "Your negative side, removed from you, the power of command begins to elude you."
"What is your point, Mr. Spock?" Kirk squints.
I sigh, exasperated that no else seems to get the point. "If your power of command continues to weaken, you will lose command of the ship."
"Precisely. You must be prepared for that."
"You have your intellect, Jim. You can fight with that." Doc assures with booming confidence.
"For how long?" Is the very real question Kirk poses.
"If I seem insensitive to what you're going through, Captain, understand, it is the way I am."
The Captain smiles and I squeeze Spock's elbow. "We wouldn't want you any other way. Someone around here has to be logical."
"Indeed." The first officer replies.
Doc scoffs and I chuckle at him.
The computer on Doc's desk whistles and Scotty's voice breaks through. "Captain Kirk?"
"Kirk, here."
"Mr. Scott, sir, on the lower level of the engineering deck. I found a new trouble with the transporter. The casing has a wide gap ripped in it. The main circuits have been burned through. The abort control is gone altogether."
The captain sighs, acknowledges, and orders Scotty to commence reparations.
Doc's voice snaps our attention back to him. He has suddenly remembered I'm supposed to be sleeping. "I believe I was very specific on my orders, young lady. What are you doing out of bed?" He cocks a stern eyebrow at me then turns to my companion. "Mr. Spock?"
I answer before Spock can open his mouth. "I answer for myself, Doc." I say smoothly. "I figured this was more important than catching a few Z's."
"Catching Z's?" Spock inquires in spite of himself.
"Sleep, Mr. Spock." Grunts Dr. McCoy in explanation. "Seeing as the situation is temporarily under control, I insist as your medical officer, get some sleep."
"I'm going. I'm going." I head back to my room alone.
Stardate 1673.5
I've managed to take a nap, but it was short enough for me to avoid Doc, so I slink down the corridor to the briefing room Spock said he and the captain were in. The door slides open. Spock is tucked against the wall, I presume, waiting for me.
"Any possibility of getting us back aboard before the skiing season opens down here?" Sulu's recognizably rich voice comes through the small monitor in front of the captain.
Kirk's shoulders hunch and he rests his head on his fists, dejected at his inability to aid his men. When it is obvious he cannot or will not respond, Spock flies into the chair with the main computer controls taking charge.
"This is Spock, Mr. Sulu." He pauses only a moment. "You'll have to hold on a little longer. There's no other way. Survival procedures, Mr. Sulu."
"– 'per your training program,' Mr. Spock." Sulu finishes.
Spock flicks off the open communication line.
"You can be rather comforting, when you set your mind to it, Spock." I think of Sulu and the other stranded crewmembers holding on to the hope of rescue.
"It would be illogical to cause further distress." He supplies.
"I agree."
Captain Kirk has been summoned to sickbay by Doc. I head to the transporter room with Spock to assist Scotty and asses any progress.
"Mr. Scott, progress report."
"Aye, sir." Scotty fills him in. In short, we need to find a way to get a current into the wires and circuits from the transporter.
"Why not do a Mickey Mouse?"
"A what?" Scotty's face wrinkles.
"A Mickey Mouse." I try to find another way of phrasing the body shop slang I picked up from my time on Old Earth. What was it again? "A patch up job."
"That hardly seems like a long-term –"
"We don't need a long-term solution. Right now we need to get those people back on board and find a way to merge the Captain back into one entity."
"I think you're onto something there, lass." Scotty beams and whips his crew into action. Spock supervises and inputs feedback when necessary.
"Captain Kirk?" Spock calls over a communication device.
"Kirk, here." Comes the reply.
"Spock, here. Would you come to the transporter room? We think we may have found an answer."
"Coming."
The captain joins us in a matter of minutes. He walks right up to Scotty. "What is it?"
"We found a way to get the transporter working, sir."
"We've attached to some bypass and leader circuits to compensate for the difference, tied directly into the impulse engines."
"There shouldn't be more than a five point variation in the velocity." Spock states his calculations. "I suggest we send the animal through."
The room instantly feels stuffy. The animal will be the test-run. If this plan doesn't work, something truly gruesome could happen to the dog-like creature, and I would share in that burden. Transporter technician Wilson looks to the first officer, and Scotty looks to the captain, as do I.
"Captain?" Spock asks again.
"Yes. Yes, go ahead." Kirk answers snapping to attention.
Scotty and Spock move over to the crate where the raving duplicate of the dog-like creature is held. Quick as lightening, Scotty has his hands around the scruff of the creature's neck. Spock leans forward to deliver the tranquilizer injection. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit concerned as to why he was carrying a syringe on his person.
"Don't hurt him." Kirk says from somewhere behind me.
"It's painless and quick." Spock assures his Captain as he slides the syringe into the creature's hind leg. "The animal will be unconscious for only a few minutes."
The barking fur ball is sedated instantly, and with great care Spock carries and deposits it under a transporter fixture. Technician Wilson follows suit, placing the cuddly other half on the same transporter disk. He has grown attached to the specimen because he regards it with a mixture of sadness and resignation.
Scotty maneuvers the transporter panel. "Uh, if this doesn't work, I don't know what will."
Spock steps away from the transporter and into his place next to Kirk's side. Wilson is pale, his face stricken. The whirring of the transporter warming up begins. I hope for his sake, and the creature's, this all goes well.
"Energize." Spock orders.
The transporter beam flickers on and the two small shapes on the transporter disappear in a haze of swirling gold particles. Five heartbeats later Spock orders Scotty to reverse. A curious Dr. McCoy strides through the doors to the room at that moment. Golden swirls begin to form again. What reappears on the transporter is an unmoving bundle of fur.
And my heart drops. Because an innocent animal just died in our experiment. Because that means Kirk can't be merged back to his one-self. Because our stranded crewmembers inch closer to the eternal sleep with every minute they are on the planet below.
Spock and Dr. McCoy leap to the animal's side. Spock checks for a pulse, as does Doc. But the poor fur ball is dead and the technician looks rather disgusted by the whole ordeal.
"The shock of putting him back together seems to have been too much for him." Spock kneels beside the specimen, one arm perched on his knee, his other hand still in its fur.
"He's dead, Jim." Confirms McCoy.
I catch Kirk struggling, taking staggering breaths. The news has hit him hard.
Stardate 1673.1
Kirk is still in command of the vessel, but Spock doesn't believe that will last very long. Kirk is not doing well at all. His "force of will" as Spock puts it, is rapidly fading. The landing party is in critical condition. The transporter is still undergoing repairs. Stress levels are on high.
I'm with Doc in sickbay when Spock strides in. The specimen is carried away on Doc's order – a full autopsy.
"I don't know. The animal could have died of some kind of shock." Doc reiterates what the Vulcan had surmised earlier.
"For once I agree with you, Doctor."
"I said, could have, Mr. Spock." Doc adds defensively.
I snicker at their banter, glad for the soothing routine of it.
"We won't know until we get a full post mortem." Doc shuffles over to Kirk, Spock at his heels.
"No autopsy is necessary to know that the animal was terrified, confused. It was split into two halves and thrust back together again. Thus shock, induced by blind terror." He turns to the captain for affirmation.
I look on from the doorway, seeing the reasoning behind Spock's argument.
"Yes. Yes. That sounds likely." The captain waves dismissively.
"It couldn't understand. You can. You have your intelligence controlling your fear." Spock now aims his full attention at his captain.
"Get the transporter room ready." Orders Kirk sounding somewhat like his usual self.
"Could be, if, maybe, all guesswork so far. Just theory. Jim, just give me a chance to do an autopsy– "
"Excuse me, Doc." I push myself off the wall and stand a little straighter. "But Spock has a point, even you agree with that. Yes it would be best to check, test, and retest all our options before we took a step – if we had the time. But time is not on our side. Spock is the most logical amongst us. Hell, he's practically a computer. We need to try something, and fast. The landing party has run out of time." I smirk at both Doc and Spock. "Besides, I would hardly call Mr. Spock's could be's and maybes just theory."
"Yes. That's right. The men." The Captain frowns. "We have to take the chance, Bones. Their lives–"
"Suppose it wasn't shock, Jim. Suppose the death was caused by a transporter malfunction. Then you die. They'd die anyway. Jim, you can't risk your life on a theory!" Doc shouts, furious. But I think his anger is directed at the impossibility and danger of the situation, and not at any specific individual.
I sense Spock shift so I turn my body to him.
"Being split in two halves is no theory with me, Doctor. I have a human half, you see, as well as an alien half, submerged, constantly at war with each other." His voice is like gravel and the intensity of his conviction has brought a slight greenish flush to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. "Personal experience, Doctor. I survive it because my intelligence wins out over both, makes them live together." Doc glowers, unable to offer any real objections. Spock focuses on Jim, "Your intelligence would enable you to survive as well."
The eloquence and poetic beauty of his words strike a chord deep within me that resonates to the very tip of my toes. Spock is fascinating. Truly, truly fascinating.
I turn to Kirk to hear his decision as Captain of the ship. He shifts his gaze between Dr. McCoy, Spock and myself, seeming unable to make up his own mind. I return to my spot at the entryway. Spock remains on Kirk's right, arms akimbo. Doc is on the captain's left, arms crossed in front of his chest. Finally Kirk stands.
"Well, somebody make the decision." He wrings his hands together, his speech slow, eyes closed.
"Are you relinquishing your command, Captain?"
Doc's mouth is twitching madly. It may or may not have to do with the fact that Spock is next in charge.
"No. No, I'm not." Replies Kirk, still wringing his hands.
"Well then, we can't help you Jim. The decision is yours." Doc says from behind him.
"Mr. Spock." Kirk snaps suddenly, sounding more like himself. "Ready the transporter room."
I peel myself from the entryway and untangle my arms to accompany the tall Vulcan back to Scotty's domain. Before the doors to sickbay close behind us I hear the Captain order Doc to continue the autopsy.
"Spock?" We take clipped steps down the corridor. "Do you think he'll use the transporter?"
"It is only logical." He replies simply.
"Yeah, I hope so too."
We notify Scotty about the Captain's orders, then make it back to the bridge. Spock fiddles with the instruments on his computer. We converse in low tones about what caused the death of the furry creature. He is more than certain that it was not a transporter malfunction. His calculations show the deviation was not enough to cause significant damage, and certainly not death. He is convinced the animal died of shock. I'm about to ask him how he can be so sure when Captain Kirk strides in through the brightly painted doors looking rather chipper. Spock's already moving to stand beside the captain's chair.
"No word from Mr. Sulu, sir." Reports the navigator on duty.
"Prepare to leave orbit, Mr. Farrell." Instructs the Captain as he takes his seat. "Well?"
"Captain!" Cries the man in disbelief.
"I gave you an order, Mr. Farrell." Asserts Kirk.
"But what about–"
"They can't be saved. Prepare to leave orbit." He crosses his leg.
"Yes, sir." The man turns to follow orders though the other personnel in the room, including myself, are staring at the Captain in shock.
"Captain, I thought we planned–"
"I changed my mind." Kirk cuts off his first officer. "Go back to your station, Mr. Spock."
Spock retracts himself from his inclined position at the captain's chair, knitting his brows as he makes his way back to me. I have half a mind to smack the back of his head, Gibbs style. That's not Kirk. He would never abandon his men, no matter the cost.
The doors to the bridge slide open again. Doc and Kirk appear.
The room is electrified as if preparing for the inevitable confrontation.
"Grab him. He's the imposter." Snaps the seated Kirk, regaining his composure.
Farrell and the man stationed at the weapons subsystems station are moving when Doc objects loudly with his arms outstretched, "No!" It's enough to give everyone on the bridge pause.
"McCoy, he's fooled you." The seated Kirk tries to reason.
"He attacked him." Doc indicates from the seated Kirk to the Kirk beside him.
Spock slants his head to the side still frowning, looking from one Kirk to the other. I bury my face in my palm. The man may be a genius, but he can be very dense sometimes.
The seated Kirk jumps out of his chair and faces the first officer. "Mr. Spock, you know who I am. You know what that is." He points an accusatory finger at the Kirk next to Doc.
"Mr. Spock, which one? What do we do?" asks the navigator. All eyes turn on the Vulcan officer like headlights.
Spock treads across the floor carefully, as carefully as his own mind must be treading. "We'll let the Captain handle this." He comes to a stop beside the Kirk in front of the doors to the bridge.
"I'm the captain!" Shouts the Kirk near the helm.
I beam proudly, though none take notice; the drama unfolding before them requires their full attention.
"Isn't that obvious? Look at his face. Remember the scratches? Look how he's tried to hide them." The other Kirk, the nether Kirk, throws shadow at the Kirk between Doc and Spock. "He wants you to think he's Captain Kirk."
"My money's on that Kirk." I call loudly, my arm extended in the direction of the Kirk who wants to save the stranded landing party.
Now every set of eyes in the room bore into me. I stand my ground. I don't flinch. I don't allow my features to waver, though my insides tremble under the heavy weight of eyes.
"You know who I am." Tries the Kirk standing near the helm again.
"Yes, I know." Calls the one near the door. "You want to kill me, don't you?"
"Farrell! James!" Barks the other Kirk. "Grab him, he'll destroy the ship!" He shakes his head furiously as Kirk looms ever nearer. "Don't you understand? I'm captain of the ship!" The duplicate grabs the helmsman in a headlock and chucks him across the room.
The room erupts in silent, crackling intensity but no one interferes in the battle between captains even though the general consensus of who to support lies in the Kirk that did not throw a crewman from his seat.
"This is my ship! My ship!" He shouts maniacally. He whips a phaser from the holster on his hip and waves it threateningly.
I fume at myself for not having noticed the weapon sooner, though it is doubtful it would have done any good seeing the way events unfolded. The volatile Kirk is muttering death threats now, his eyes wide and glassy. The Kirk fighting to make himself whole again is faltering and near the edge collapsing. "Can half a man live?"
The less compassionate Kirk practically pleads for the approaching Kirk to stop. The Kirk attempting to reunite with himself disarms his other half with ease, without the use of violence, reassuring the terrified part of him they would live, the both of them.
"I want to live!" Cries Kirk's more volatile half in a cry so anguished and pitiful it makes me wince. The less decisive half of Kirk buries the other in a tight embrace.
It's Spock who comes forward with the tranquilizer. The other Kirk falls limply into Kirk's chest. Spock and Dr. McCoy carry the unconscious half of our captain between them to the transporter room.
It's still uncertain whether the merge will be successful but the urgency to attempt it has only grown. So Kirk, both halves of the whole, are standing on the transporter.
"You'll have to hold onto him, Captain." Instructs Spock as he positions the unconscious Kirk in the conscious Kirk's arms.
"Mr. Spock?" Calls Kirk. His eyes are lined, wary, and forlorn.
"Captain?" answers Spock. He'd never admit it but the deep set of his eyes gives him away – he's worried about his friend.
"If this doesn't work . . ."
"Understood, Captain." He acknowledges the unsaid order dutifully. With that he turns swiftly to the control panel.
Doc's frantic apprehension pulsates into every corner of the room. He doesn't like this. The uncertainty is eating away at him. And at me. If this goes wrong . . . we're months into an exploration mission meant to last five years. What happens if we lose our Captain now? Kirk's got the potential for a great career. It's too early for him to leave the world of the living. But we all joined this mission with the full understanding that the likely hood of not returning was very probably – even likely.
I slip my hand into Doc's. It's clammy and rigid but clasps onto mine with amplified strength. With his best attempt at establishing good faith, Kirk directs a reassuring smile in our direction – ever the charming and competent Captain in tune with his crew's worries.
"Mr. Spock?"
Spock takes the cue and begins working the dials on the control panel. Within a few beeps the transporter begins to whir to life. I hold my breath, my heart threatening to stop and pound out of my chest at the same time. I squeeze Doc's hand harder, glad for the anchor.
"Ready." Spock waits at attention.
Kirk pulls his other half closer, tucking his chin into his shoulder. He becomes flickering light before disappearing.
Seven seconds after he's gone feels like seven hours without breathing.
"Well, Mr. Spock?" Urges Doc.
I release my breath and allow an intake of air as I hear the beeping of the instrumentation behind me being adjusted. I release Doc's hand and wade over to the transporter's control panel. Spock prepares the panel once again. He swallows hard. His right hand pushes the lever up slowly and I grate my teeth. At the last moment Spock gives the lever a quick shove forward.
The flickering golden light forms in the appearance of a single shape. One Kirk stands before us now. I'm amazed I hear the shallow exhale of the man to my left, considering the thundering of my nerves are so loud in my ears.
"Jim?" Doc stammers from his position nearest the transporter platform.
Kirk inhales, gives his largest, smuggest smile, at being whole again and saunters down the platform. "Get those men aboard, fast!" He commands in the assertiveness he is renowned for.
"Thank god." I grunt in relief.
"Right away, Captain." Spock fights away the danger of giving the biggest smile of relief I've ever seen.
Instinctually, I punch the communication button on the control panel. "Sickbay, prepare the infirmary to receive the stranded landing party. Gurneys to transport the four crewmembers are needed in the transporter room immediately." I switch the comm off to find all three men staring at me with mouths agape. "Somebody had to do it. Your reunion is taking too long, there's still people who need us."
"You have the makings of a great Commander." Grins Kirk.
"Thanks, Jim." I smirk back.
A few moments later, four enormous icicles the shape of humans are carted out of the room in gurneys.
"Severe exposure, frost bite. But I think they'll make it." Doc crosses his arms, his face scrunched. "How do you feel, Jim?"
"How?" He frowns. "I've seen a part of me no man should ever see."
I regard him carefully. "On the contrary, you've seen a part of yourself everyone should see. Know your strengths, your weaknesses, your 'imperfections'. Learn from it. Discipline it. It's part of what makes us who we are. We need it like we need happiness as well as pain. It shapes us."
Again. The same three set of eyes study me. Really look at me and consider my words.
Spock asks me to join him on the bridge and we make our way through the corridors, shoulder to shoulder. Kirk's been hauled away by Doc for a full medical evaluation so it's just the two of us. The air between Spock and me feels different. I'm not sure if it's heavier or lighter.
"You are wiser than your years." He says finally, hands behind his back and head locked in front of him.
"Thank you." I don't know what else to say.
"How did you come to such an opinion?" He still won't look at me.
I search for the words inside of me. "Introspection."
There is a minuscule falter in his step, but I catch it. He angles his chin slightly to look at me. "I suspect there is much history behind your statement."
Air hitches in my throat but I swallow it down. "You suspect correctly." I consider with great caution my next words, sure of myself before continuing. "A subject for a later time."
I don't know how he can take so many steps without glancing ahead, but he does, his gaze still considering me. "It is unnecessary."
"It is." I agree. "And the offer still stands."
He nods. The rest of the journey to the bridge is accompanied in silence. The silence that suits us. But the air is still different around us, though not unpleasant and I struggle to determine why that is.
"Status report, green." Reports Farrell when Kirk strides through the bridge.
Spock straightens at attention from beside my seat at the science station. "All sections report ready, sir." Spock informs the Captain.
"Good." Kirk stops right in front of him. "Thank you Mr. Spock. From both of us." Jim smirks mischievously.
Spock accepts the thank you with a satisfied nod. "Shall I pass that on to the crew, sir?"
"The imposter's back where he belongs. Let's forget him." Kirk ambles back to his chair.
Spock's mouth pushes against his smile creases and his slanted brows rise in a pleasant expression.
"You have a beautiful bromance." I whisper.
Spock frowns at me. "A what?"
I smile innocently. "What you and Kirk have. Occasionally shared with Doc."
He just looks more confused and I chuckle.
Rand walks up to Spock and hands him a PADD. He scans the contents before signing.
"The, uh, imposter had some interesting qualities, wouldn't you say, Yeoman?" Spock implies devilishly.
Rand lifts her chin haughtily before sauntering off with the PADD in hand.
"Glad to see you're okay!" I call after her. I turn to Spock who's still reveling in his wit, actually snickering and crossing his arms in self-satisfaction. "Jealous are we?"
He's flabbergasted and about to ask for an explanation when he thinks better of it and ignores my last comment, choosing to check over information on the science computer.
"This is the Captain speaking." Announces Kirk. "Navigator, set in course correction. Helmsman, steady as she goes."
And so another tragedy is averted as we zoom out of orbit and into open space.
Later I stare at the gray ceiling from my sprawled position on the bed. What's different? Why does it feel like the air's shifted? I replay the memory of earlier today.
Then it clicks.
When Spock asked me to accompany him to the bridge he had waited for me to be right next to him before starting off. Also, we usually fall into step with each other – naturally; but this time he deliberately fell into and kept my pace. He was following my lead similar to the way he follows Kirk's.
Have I risen a friendship level? Level two accomplished? I hope so. When we spoke there was also a tinge more of . . . respect? Like he values my input more. Awesome.
I roll off my bed to the desk and flick on the monitor.
"Hey, Spock?"
"Yes, Ms. Echo?" His message dings in response.
"Have you told your mom yet?"
"Explain."
I scrape through my brain trying to find a way to ask him without making him uncomfortable. I have been meaning to ask him about it but it has slipped my mind continuously. "That six-times-six equals thirty-six." I grin at my own ingeniousness.
It takes a moment for him to respond. I can see him in my mind, shoulder's stiffening, and neck straightening. "I have not."
"I believe it may ease your mind." The message blinks on the screen. I add, "And hers."
"Has something in my behavior brought this to your attention?"
"Yes and no."
"I shall meditate on the subject."
"Kay. See you later." I end the conversation with a smiley emoticon and flip the monitor off again to take a long nap and shower before dinner with Spock and Uhura in the rec room.
A/N: Hello my lovelies. I have returned from my camping trip at Stanislaus National Forest. It was great. A whole week spent out in a forest and swimming a lake :D I also worked on my novel a bit. Yay!
Yes, I ship K/S and all variations of Spock, Kirk, and McCoy :3 And no that will not happen in this fanfic (for obvious reasons: he's mine this time! mwahahahaha), though I will make references to the parings as I did in this chapter. Teehee.
What do you guys think of this chapter? Penny for your thoughts?
Until next time.
Your favorite nymph,
Echo