TW: Suicide, character death, gore (not much more than usual)
Ch. 20 – Escape
It wasn't till late that night, after dinner for most, that Kirk was finally afforded a good stretch of time to himself. He wasn't planning on standing a bridge watch that night. Starfleet Command was done with him until the next morning, Enterprise time.
But instead of a reprieve, this break was torture. Though his body demanded it, he could not sleep. He thought about pacing the passageways, maybe taking a midnight stroll somewhere deep within the bowels of the ship; a habit he thought he'd broken.
He wandered down another passageway instead, to no particular destination. Anywhere other than his own bed was the idea.
Spock coming around the corner at just that moment was the highlight of Kirk's night. Kirk immediately went over to him, already relaxing. Losing Bones meant Kirk had one less close friend to confide in. "You look terrible," he said, putting his hand lightly on Spock's back.
"I could say the same about you," Spock replied. Though he was anxious to get to his quarters, Spock walker slower to accommodate his exhausted friend. "If I chose to care about such a minor detail."
Kirk waved it off, and they walked to the turbo-lift in silence. Inside, Kirk asked, "Would you spare a moment tonight, Spock? There's something I need to discuss with you…it can't wait."
"Of course, Jim," Spock said. He was glad for the diversion; as tired as he was, Spock knew sleep would elude him until his counterpart sent a reply to his message. In the time it took for them to get to Kirk's cabin, Spock was replaying what he had done in the transporter room, searching, practically willing for, an error. He felt that enough time had passed for his counterpart to have answered him.
Kirk slipped into his seat by the computer, while Spock stood by the door. "Any progress?" he asked.
"I have taken what I feel to be my last step," Spock replied. "After last night, the matter is now up to my counterpart."
Kirk looked alarmed, so Spock explained to him how he had sent the message through the transporter console. If Kirk approved or disapproved of any of Spock's methods, he didn't say anything. Instead he asked, "'He misses you'? What does that mean?"
"I understand that he was close with his Dr. McCoy."
Kirk narrowed his eyes. "Is that what the imposter told you?"
"Captain, I trust very little of what that man says, but it's not all based on lies. In fact, his nature has been less deceptive, now that he feels more secure."
Kirk answered dryly, "I can only hope your doppelganger is enough like yourself to even care." He sighed and glanced away. "Regardless, the ship's schedule doesn't depend on the whims of a man in a parallel universe."
"I never suggested that," Spock said. "I only reached out to him in the hopes he could provide some help. It could very well be, Sir, that he wants the same thing we do."
"That might be, Spock, but he might also be perfectly happy the way things are, and the fact that he now knows that we can contact him, he just might take extra steps to prevent you from getting that close again."
"Yes, I suppose that is one path he may choose-"
"Well, I don't have time to wait for him, Spock," Kirk interrupted sharply. "We reach Titus in three days, best case scenario. And when we get there, I want our 'friend' to disembark with the Romulans."
Spock turned a startled look to Kirk, who seemed to be expecting such a reaction. "Is that necessary, Sir?"
"He's a security risk, Spock! How long until he pulls a phaser on you? Or me?"
Spock came closer to the desk. "I'm not arguing that point with you. I find him…difficult to deal with, as well. But we need him here, at least until I'm ready to retrieve our own."
Kirk gestured for Spock to take a seat across from him. "What's your plan?"
Spock looked no more relaxed now that he was sitting, but at least Kirk did not have to crane his neck to look at him as he spoke. "It's an ever evolving one, Captain. Both myself and Mr. Scott have been developing it, and I believe I now understand, at least on a superficial level, the physics of the universe-to-universe barrier."
"You don't look too satisfied with that," Kirk said.
"I'm far from satisfied," Spock replied. "I have a solution regarding the enormous energy costs, but I must rely not only on my own counterpart, but Dr. McCoy's as well."
"Why is he so important?"
"I intend to send him through the barrier, so that he will pass along my instructions to the other Spock. Then, my counterpart must be able to understand enough to send our McCoy back through the barrier. If I did not need either of them, Jim, I would not rely on them at all. But it may well be impossible for anyone to pass through the barrier without some kind of cooperation."
Spock took out his PADD and handed it to Kirk. "If you wish to review my notes, Sir. I'd be happy to explain in more detail-"
Kirk held up his hand, hastily cutting Spock off. "Just the basics for now," he said, already looking glum at the technical mess on the PADD screen. "I'm still not convinced my next orders shouldn't be for Bones—or whoever he is—to pack his bags."
Spock just looked at Kirk a moment, noticing a welling of irritation. He was able to catch himself and understand that it was just a part of his overall short temper today. Considering the situation he was in, and how fatigued he'd been for days, physically as well as mentally, he could forgive himself and let it go.
If Kirk noticed the time it took for Spock to reset himself before he could speak, he didn't seem to judge him for it. In fact, lately it took them both conscious effort to keep from snapping at each other.
Spock accessed more schematics on his PADD to show him. "Both universes in question are connected temporally, which gives us a distinct advantage. When contact was first made, the energy spike from the ion storm made it possible for that barrier to be broken for a small amount of time. Just as with the power surge McCoy and Scott created in order to feed enough energy into the transporter for your trip back."
The PADD revealed complex calculations, which Kirk could decode if he wanted to. But right now, he just wanted answers. Glancing up at Spock, he said, "I take it we don't have that choice this time."
"It was a gamble at best, Jim. And it took cooperation from others to achieve it. Our McCoy would not be able to complete the job himself, even if he were in a position to find himself in a Jeffries tube alone."
Kirk tensed, his eyes narrowing. "And what makes you think we can trust the Spock of that universe? You realize you're pinning all our hopes on him?"
"He did help you return, did he not?" Spock argued back.
"Sure, and he kept Bones for himself," Kirk countered bitterly.
Spock had no answer to this. He looked down at his calculations as if they could console him.
Kirk continued, a harsh edge to his voice, "You're pinning this whole thing on one of them, Spock! He was the one who deliberately sabotaged the return trip. He obviously has an agenda. I can't even begin to understand what that could be, but it's clear he has what he wants."
Spock had been quiet during this lecture, but at this, he looked up sharply. He and his captain locked eyes. "I don't think he does," he said.
Kirk frowned, and his hostile attitude didn't diminish. But he did lean back in his chair and gesture for Spock to explain himself.
"I won't attempt to predict what must go through the mind of my counterpart regarding our Dr. McCoy. Or his, for that matter. I'd rather not know. But whatever he had hoped to gain from kidnapping ours, I believe he will fail. The McCoy of the hyde universe…"
"Is that what you're calling it?" Kirk interrupted.
"Mr. Scott's idea, I assure you," Spock said hastily. "As I was about to say, the hyde McCoy is a much different man than our own. Whatever goals my counterpart has with him could never be realized. There will come a point in time when my counterpart realizes the futility in his plan."
"Then why not simply kill him, if that's the case?" Kirk prodded.
"I don't believe he would, if he had the chance of getting his own back," Spock answered.
Kirk looked at Spock a moment, then glanced away to think. He didn't look convinced. "I know it must seem like you'd know him personally," he said at last. "And he did share a few things in common with you, as far as some personal ethics. But this same man would have condemned an entire planet to destruction without a second thought, because that's how it is there, Spock!" By now Kirk's voice had raised.
Spock was careful to reply with an even tone. "What other choice do we have, Sir?"
Kirk regarded Spock with a hard glare. Spock was one of the few that could withstand such an unflinching look; Though Spock meant no disrespect, he glared right back. Kirk held his hand out for the PADD, which Spock surrendered. As he scanned the marked pages, he asked, "How do you propose to do this, exactly?"
Spock relaxed. "The primary problem is the phase shift. McCoy cannot be transported back to universe unless his particles shift in phase. Since we can't rely on anyone from the hyde universe to create a power surge, Mr. Scott and I have discovered another way to force a particle to change phase."
"Go on…" Kirk muttered.
"We have been running tests with the transporter. Our…visitor has provided us with his own hyde particles to experiment with. I believe it is possible to force a phase shift on an entire human body without having to create a power surge."
Spock leaned closer to change the screens on the PADD for Kirk's inspection. "I plan to force a highly energized, ionized stream of both hyde and jekyll particles through the transporter the same time McCoy is beamed back here."
Kirk looked up sharply. "I assume you and your other will have to be in constant communication for this to work."
Spock looked up at him. "Yes," he said quietly.
"After, of course, you trust your entire plan, and our friend's very life on the imposter," Kirk continued. "You can't think of any other way to get this going?"
"Not unless someone on this side beams across the barrier," Spock suggested.
"Out of the question," Kirk said. "Not only would that put your life in danger, but that opens us up to possible invasion. Do you want to see this crew hunted down on their own ship?"
Spock flinched slightly at the harshness, of both his words and tone. He leaned back in his seat and looked down at his hands. "Of course, not," he hissed in reply.
Kirk softened to see Spock like that, but he didn't let it show. "Then you can understand why I must order you to abandon this plan, Spock."
Spock snapped his head up, an accusing, yet restrained look on his face. "Jim, there is no other way…"
"I can't accept that, Spock!" Kirk cut in, just short of yelling. "I won't!" He got up and started pacing. "In fact, you'll have to put in some kind of safeguards on our transporter to make sure no one on the other side tries anything. You've already given away enough intel to allow your counterpart to make a move if he wanted to. How long until he figures out how to send troops through? Or control our transporter remotely?"
Spock argued back, "He would have no reason-"
Kirk stood over Spock, one hand clamped onto the arm of Spock's chair, and he snarled, "How long till his captain pries it out of him, then? Maybe your double wouldn't be interested in conquering us, but what about mine?"
"I wouldn't…" Spock mumbled with Kirk looming over him, furious and demanding answers Spock could only guess at.
"You met him, didn't you?" Kirk demanded.
"Yes…"
"Look at me and tell me you feel safe with that man getting his hands on our transporter specs."
Spock was silent, and it took him a moment to lift his eyes to Kirk's. His mind was in turmoil; it took such effort to cleanse his thoughts of the frustration, the helplessness he was feeling in revolt to what he knew was the only proper answer. He was acting with his heart, he realized now. Normally, he would not find that shameful, but in this case, that meant putting the rest of the crew in possible danger.
He understood this, agreed with it. And yet he still felt such helpless anger towards Kirk for taking away his only solution. Staring coldly into Kirk's eyes, Spock answered in a quiet, bitter voice, "You are correct, Sir. I have met your double, and I wouldn't dream to trust him. He's a lot like you; he's a man who gets what he wants. Damn everyone else."
They stared at each other after that, the silence between them thick and hostile. Kirk pulled away first, straightening into a more dignified posture, and thrust the PADD back at Spock, who was careful to keep his fingertips from brushing against Kirk's when he retrieved it.
Spock got up to leave, but Kirk halted him when he got to the door. He stood still, but didn't turn around as Kirk said, "You have until Titus to do what you can."
Spock turned to look at him. "Sir?"
"Three days, Spock, not a second more. Keep direct communication severely limited. I want the transporter signature changed hourly, and if you get any sort of response from them, you come to me immediately. Wake me up if you have to. And don't force McCoy to get involved unless he truly wants to go back. He already knows too much about this. We don't need him as an enemy."
Spock revealed nothing of his inner state, except how his hand tightened around the PADD. "Thank you, Jim," he whispered.
Kirk sat back down at his computer when Spock left and dropped his head into his hands.
/
Down in Sickbay, McCoy sat bored at his computer. For much of that evening, he had pored over medical files, partly to show the rest of his staff that he was on the path to rehabilitation, and partly to satisfy his growing thirst for any scrap of knowledge he could pick up.
Much of the medical knowledge was familiar to him; he'd undergone rigorous training in the Academy, just like any other officer. Just because he practiced actual medicine so rarely didn't mean McCoy was an incompetent doctor. Just one who wasn't bound by all the rules and protocols on this ship.
But even after all that, he was far from relaxed. He replayed his last conversation with Dorek, wondering if and where he might have gone wrong. Nearly 4 AM, and no sign of him. Which meant, he realized with a tired exhale, that it was too late tonight. Dorek still had a few days to make up his mind, but this was cutting it close as it was. There was little point in escape once they got too close to Titus.
He was disappointed, but not quite ready to give up on the day yet. Earlier Christine had shown him how to use the basic functions on the computer. They had found that he was locked out of anything above a certain security level, but right now McCoy didn't need anything too fancy. He only wanted to send a message.
And he instructed the computer to flag the message as top secret, so not only was it readable only to the intended recipient, but it would only be readable in the target's quarters.
But he hesitated before sending it. He'd be busy later preparing for what had planned for that night. The message had just enough information to get Spock involved in just the way McCoy wanted, but there was always the risk that Spock would do something not according to plan. So he read it over just once more, before sending it.
His heart rate spiked just after; he helped himself to some Sickbay brandy, wishing for the tenth time in an hour that someone had been considerate enough to stock some damn Romulan ale. He wanted to sleep, not linger on for hours.
\\\\\\
Even with so much on his mind, Spock could not ignore the growing excitement of the crew, buzzing like electricity that infected everyone. Even Spock, though hardly cheered by the prospect of time off at the star base, found the general mood to be invigorating.
Most troubling, Spock found the upcoming port day as a forbidding deadline. He knew Kirk was deadly serious about what he said.
He'd stolen a few hours of sleep, but was hardly refreshed. The nap seemed to not only be of no help, but that was valuable time wasted. So, beginning the day with a vague sense of regret, Spock bathed and dressed hurriedly, not so much eager to get back to the transporter room, but compelled.
He stopped by Sickbay on the way, and was annoyed to find McCoy and Nurse Chapel both sitting in front of a computer, with a box of data tapes beside them. As she had once done for Uhura when her memory was wiped, Christine was attempting to reeducate McCoy, guiding him through all the text and videos she felt he should master by the end of the day.
It was a pointless venture, Spock thought; whether the destination was the star base or another universe, McCoy was not going to remain on this ship for much longer. Soon enough, Christine would be going over those exact tapes for whomever was supposed to replace McCoy. And no one even knew that yet, because so far, there was no reason to look into replacing an otherwise exemplary Starfleet officer.
For a moment Spock gazed at the man he still considered an imposter with some sympathy. The first he will hear of this plot against him will be the very day he's forced out. Spock knew that moment would not be easy for McCoy.
Chapel broke the moment first, getting up from McCoy's side to greet Spock pleasantly. Then she said, with some pride, "He's coming along just fine. He should be ready to get back to duty…when do you think, Doctor?"
McCoy was still sitting, but was leaned over the desk so he could observe the two talking about him. He shrugged. "All I can tell you is that's the last all-nighter I'm pulling." He looked to Spock. "Got something I can mend for you?"
Spock ignored him and directed his next query to Chapel, "Can you spare him, Nurse?"
"Time for a break anyway," she said, and gave McCoy a pat on the shoulder as she got up to leave.
McCoy's gaze lingered in her general direction until she left the room, a fondness in his eyes. Spock noticed this with something bordering on irritation, but he let it pass. He was not battling jealousy, but he still did not feel entirely comfortable with how close he was already with the medical staff.
It was like he was moving right in.
"What's on your mind?" McCoy cut into his thought. Not a moment too soon; they were getting rather stormy. "I hope I didn't do anything," he added sarcastically.
"In fact, you did," Spock answered, far sterner now that they were alone. "Explain your letter."
McCoy sat back, leisurely and comfortable, but with a hard look in his eyes. "I'd rather you show up and see for yourself."
"Will this be a trap of some kind, Doctor?"
"A trap!" McCoy laughed, getting up. He slapped Spock on the shoulder, hard but playful. He stood close, at Spock's side, just out of his immediate field of vision. "As fun as that might be, I wouldn't waste a good ambush on you. My own, though! A new one every week, but you see—" he gave Spock another rough slap, on the back, this time. He delighted at how the Vulcan tightened up every time. "You wouldn't appreciate it."
"Then what is your purpose? And why 0100 hours?"
"We've got to clear the air on some things," McCoy said.
"I could not find a more suitable location, nor time, than here and now," Spock countered, while McCoy rolled his yes. "I would think you would prefer a resolution sooner rather than later."
"Well, sure," he said agreeably, and took a few steps away. "We can still talk. Of course, that's always been up to you."
Spock refused to take the bait. "Your request that I come alone," he pressed, "causes me to reconsider my original intention to honor your request."
McCoy shook his head wearily. "Hell, you can keep someone waiting right on the other side of the door, I don't care, just meet with me alone."
"If you would only tell me—"
"Spock," McCoy said softly. "I'm asking you to trust me. And that means you get to be uncomfortably ignorant for a while. Can you handle that?"
Spock looked at him. McCoy was disappointed in the lack of reaction. "I will trust you as far as I deem appropriate," he said.
"Just keep in mind," McCoy countered. "If I feel like you're trying anything funny between now and then, I just won't show up at all."
Spock merely nodded curtly. He turned for the door just behind.
"Actually, while you're here," McCoy said before Spock could get too far. "I am curious about something."
Spock faced him, polite but impatient. "Yes?"
"Did you get an answer yet?"
"Not yet," he answered coolly. "Are you expecting one?"
McCoy shrugged. "I'd just assume he would reply if he could. Depending on what you said, of course."
"Perhaps, when there is an answer, I shall tell you," Spock replied.
McCoy gave Spock a mischievous look and took a few steps around him. Spock just stood there, feeling awkward and eager to leave. But he gave McCoy his attention when the double said, "We could do another trade."
"I find your trades to be inherently deceitful-"
"I'm risking everything by trusting you tonight," McCoy interrupted. He still wore that dark smirk, but his voice was soft. "If you fail to show up, or try to sabotage me in some way, then I don't know what I'll do."
"Why would you endanger yourself even further by revealing that?" Spock asked with a frown.
McCoy went over to the cabinet, taking his time to take out two brandy glasses. He set them down on the desk with the computer, and went for the brandy. As he poured some in both, he said, "Because I want you to trust me. Just for one night, just in this one little thing. I can promise, but not prove, of course, that I don't have any intentions to hurt you. I only want to show you something." He lifted one of the glasses, offering it to Spock. "Timing is everything, you understand."
Spock regarded the offered glass with a look of high suspicion, though this was hardly the first time he and the doctor had indulged like this in Sickbay.
"Come on, Spock," McCoy teased gently. "Don't insult me. You don't even have to take a blasted sip."
Sighing, Spock relented and took the glass. McCoy's pleased smirk stirred something within him; it was easy to dwell in the feelings of distrust and resentment he'd had for the double since he first realized who he was. But this was still the same face he was used to; it expressed emotions almost exactly the same way. This version's individual quirks were different from Spock's version, but not by much. There was haunting familiarity in his voice, his searching eyes, his lips when a glass was pressed to them.
Spock passed his drink beneath his nose for a quick, appreciative sniff, and had a sip. It was strong, burning. But in a way it awakened him, as only strong synthehol could. Not quite as brutal as what his own culture could produce, but he appreciated the experience. It appeared that McCoy did as well.
After another generous swallow, Spock handed his half full glass to McCoy, who took it without judgment. McCoy placed both drinks back down on the table and said, "Well, I've got more studying ahead of me than I'd like to admit. I'm sure you've got your hands full today, too."
"Indeed," Spock said. He gave off an impression of formality, but not in a hostile way. "I'll be in the transporter room for most of the day. If I require your assistance…" he started to ask.
McCoy smiled and walked Spock to the door. "I doubt I could be much help, but I'm happy to try," he said.
Spock nodded curtly and left. He didn't say goodbye or allow his glance to rest on McCoy for too long, but the doctor took that encounter as a step forward nonetheless. His grin was warm as he went back to his medical tapes and brandy.
/
It was late afternoon when Dorek finally came down to Sickbay. His Starfleet escorts hung back, giving Dorek some illusion of privacy as he said hello to McCoy.
McCoy nodded a greeting to the Romulan's guards, and as before, took Dorek into the back room. "I'll just need a few minutes for a physical examination," he explained to them, and they seemed to accept that. They both would still be close to the door, able to peek their heads in if they suspected anything, but McCoy felt safe enough to speak quietly to Dorek as he had him lie on the biobed.
Holding one of Dorek's slim wrists in his hands, McCoy teased, "You feel nervous." Indeed, Dorek's pulse was pounding against McCoy's fingertips. McCoy was gentle as he held up a hand capable of bending metal.
"I'm terrified," Dorek said with a light chuckle. "But it's not for myself. What will happen to my crew when we leave?"
McCoy lay Dorek's arm down at his side and pulled up his sleeve past the elbow. He pressed fingertips at the hollow of the elbow and glanced up at the computer readings. He did this partly to look busy in case anyone walked in, and partly to try out some of the lessons he'd learned that day. With so much precise technology around, in both universes, McCoy had never thought it was worth it to use good old fashioned instinct to study a patient's body. The sensation of that strong pulse rushing just beneath layers of skin…
McCoy let go and turned to grab a hypo from a table beside him. He leaned in close to whisper, "They'll be fine, don't worry. They'll be questioned, sure. But they won't be punished for what you do."
"Am I abandoning them?" Dorek asked. The Romulan's sincere tone was jarring to McCoy, who only wanted to hate him like always. He could tolerate a smidgen of sympathy for the man, just as he was capable of sincere feelings of compassion for even his own captain sometimes. But normally, those sentimental feelings never got in the way of what needed to be done.
He couldn't break his habit now.
"This is their best chance," he said. "You know you'll be locked up once the authorities are done with you. I doubt you'll be tortured, but you'll still be questioned to death. I'm the only one on this ship who doesn't suspect you of being some kind of spy."
Dorek sighed and gazed off into space. "I know," he said sadly. "If only…" He trailed off, but McCoy didn't prod him into finishing his thought. He guided Dorek to sit up, so he could take scans of his back and shoulders with his tricorder.
Dorek turned to look at McCoy and asked quietly, "Do you think, once we're far enough way, that you could send a message back to the ship?"
McCoy stopped scanning, his eyes narrowing slightly. "A message? For who?"
Dorek looked nervous, but answered in a small voice, "Spock."
McCoy softened. "What would you want to say?"
"I…" Dorek began, and paused to collect his thoughts. He didn't look at McCoy as he resumed. "I have felt like such a fool since I last spoke to him. I understand now that he must have felt I was mocking him and his culture. I know how ignorant I am about the Teachings, but I meant only the highest respect!" Now, he turned his face to look into McCoy's eyes. "You don't know how it was for me. Me, the son of an admiral, having to sneak in the dead of night to meet my mentor, knowing if we were caught, we'd both be punished. Actually, I might get away with a scolding, but she would have been killed."
McCoy glanced down for a moment, while Dorek tried to relax himself with a deep breath. The human had not considered this before. Not that he was exactly won over by Dorek's story, but he was at least interested. It wasn't exactly in a Romulan's nature, he believed, to be so open about personal struggles.
"I know I probably only learned a fraction of what Spock has known all his life. And I probably don't even understand half of what I know. But the hope I used to feel when I met with her…just that small glimpse into an entirely different way of life, of seeing reality itself." He looked down at his lap, and his entire being seemed weighed down. "I just hoped that somehow I could recapture that feeling. That's what I want to tell Spock."
McCoy put a hand on Dorek's shoulder and said firmly, "If your heart is really in it, then you'll find your chance to get back into it. The Federation is filled with Vulcans, you'll find someone to teach you, I promise. Let's just focus on getting you off this ship."
For a brief but energetic moment, Dorek reached up and squeezed McCoy's hand. "Thank you," he said with sincerity.
"I want you to take it easy for the rest of the day," McCoy said in a louder voice as the guards hung by the threshold, obviously anxious to take their charge back to his quarters. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, then whispered sharply into Dorek's ear as he helped Dorek to his feet: "0045 hours, be waiting for me in your quarters. I'll handle the sentries."
Dorek confirmed with a small nod and went to his escorts with a much lighter step.
McCoy watched him leave, and when he realized he was beginning to feel sentimental towards a Romulan, he immediately raided the liquor cabinet.
/
Spock was wondering if he'd have the courage to transport himself into the hyde universe if it came to that. It wasn't the other crew he feared so much, but his own captain's reaction to such a decision. He knew Kirk would never allow it, and he understood his reasons. Were Spock captain, he would have the exact same attitude. He understood that with command came a certain coldness; love and friendship sometimes had to take a backseat to the safety of the ship.
But with the day dying into evening and still no answer from the other side, Spock was losing hope. There seemed to be nothing more he could do until his counterpart sent a reply, if only to show he was still there. Spock could have sent another message or signal, but the risk of it being intercepted by the hyde Kirk was too great.
And though it was an incredible, probably fatal risk of actually going there himself in search of McCoy, Spock was far more willing to take that risk. He believed, perhaps foolishly, that he could take care of himself, whereas he feared for McCoy's safety almost constantly. If not for his mental discipline, that fear would have been too crippling for him to work at all.
Scotty had long since left for Engineering, unable to resist Spock's insistence. Bad enough the science station on the bridge was to be left unmanned for all these hours, but as the executive officer of the ship, Spock could not allow his chief engineer to neglect his duties for too long. Scotty had assured him that he'd keep the problem in his mind as he worked, and perhaps think of some alternatives.
Speaking of work, Spock realized he had to pack it in for at least a few hours to tend to at least some of his duties as XO. Scotty, Uhura, and even the captain, had been picking up his slack lately, and though they were not especially over-burdened, Spock still felt ashamed. Not everyone knew the exact reason Spock couldn't attend to his duties as usual these past days, but his high rank and good history with the crew excused him in their eyes. Just not in his own.
And if all this work turned out to be futile…
He decided not to even think about that possibility. Bad enough he was beginning to believe it subconsciously.
Resetting the transporter controls to their defaults, Spock took a break to conduct his department inspections. As usual, the spaces were clean and busy with routine activity, and reports of all kinds were thrust into his hands to sign. His inspection of Engineering was far less inspection, and far more the pleasure of spending some time with his partner in crime. He had little to actually say to Scotty, and vice versa. But Spock felt far less alone when he was around him.
He was formal, but approachable, when he came to Sickbay. Nurse Chapel teased him for being so late for inspection, but otherwise, Spock had no reason to remain long. He caught a glimpse of McCoy, but left before he could catch his eye.
Perhaps an hour later, when this was all complete, Spock went to the bridge with his reports. As he stood by the captain's chair, his hands clasped behind his back, Kirk scanned the reports and signed the last page when he was done. Handing the PADD back, he caught Spock's eye and asked, "Going to pull another all-nighter?"
Spock thought carefully before answering. He had not mentioned McCoy's request to Kirk yet, and now that he thought about it, decided he'd better not. "I may retire early, if I find I can no longer concentrate," he answered, hating himself for lying.
"Well," Kirk said with a friendly smile. "I probably won't find any peace till some ungodly hour. You're welcome to drop in on me if you can pull yourself away."
"Thank you, Sir," Spock said. He gave Kirk a shallow nod and took his leave. He noticed the way the other officers looked at him, particularly those who had to work a little harder to make up for his absence on the bridge. They bore no resentment, only a mild curiosity fueled by concern for him. Spock appreciated their concern, but felt quite embarrassed; now it seemed that something as personal as his physical health was being discussed or at least thought about by the bridge crew. He knew this was normal for humans, a sign of their compassion, but for Spock, it was humiliating.
By the time he returned to his quarters, Spock realized how late it was. He changed into a clean uniform and meditated for a little while before going to the shuttle bay. That hour or so of meditation helped keep his mind silent as he took the journey down several decks, towards what could be a terrible mistake.
He didn't bring a weapon, simply because it wasn't worth the trouble in coming up with an excuse for the master-at-arms. Since it would have been just as difficult, if not impossible, for McCoy to have procured a weapon, Spock felt reasonably confident he wouldn't need one. Somehow that wasn't much of a comfort.
Day and night didn't really exist out in space, of course, but most of the crew were used to a certain sleeping schedule that left the entire ship relatively empty of non-essential personnel during the "night." He passed a few shipmates on his way, but after a certain point, he was alone.
He paused by the door for a moment, and when he was ready, slipped in quietly. Wishing he'd taken the time to procure a phaser, Spock followed the pair of voices coming from the Galileo.
/
At 0045, Dorek was waiting as instructed in his quarters. He had made sure the rest of his crew had gone to bed long before this, and had wished he could join them. He'd found it nearly impossible to sleep since he arrived on the Enterprise.
His heart leapt when he heard the buzzer to his door. He grabbed a small bag he'd packed and repacked several times over with emergency supplies, identification documents, and what small amount of currency he had, and threw a cloak around his shoulders so he could conceal it.
When he opened the door, he saw not only McCoy, but another pair of guards. Different from before, but they still regarded McCoy with respect. McCoy had apparently had a talk with them earlier, because they didn't try to stop McCoy from taking Dorek in his charge.
As the guards remained where the rest of the refugees slept, Dorek and McCoy went down the hall for the turbo-lift. Safely inside, Dorek asked, "What did you tell them?"
McCoy smiled. "Just that you've been having pains that are keeping you awake. I told them I'd have you back in a half an hour at the longest."
"So we only have that long to escape before someone comes looking," Dorek surmised. Even he could hear the anxiety, the apprehension in his own voice.
McCoy slapped his shoulder and led the way out of the turbo-lift when it stopped. "Plenty of time," he said.
"And the third person? The one who's supposed to help us?" Dorek asked as they passed into the shuttle bay.
"He's already in position," McCoy said. "We'll wait for his all clear, and then he'll open the shuttle bay for us." He led Dorek to the Galileo and opened the door. As Dorek crept inside, holding his cloak up with one hand so he wouldn't trip over it, McCoy looked behind his shoulder. Within seconds, the door behind them opened, and he watched Spock walk through. He and Dorek were out of Spock's line of sight, but he would be able to hear them.
"Sure you have everything?" McCoy asked, his voice a little louder than it had been. "We'll have to spend the first few days at least just putting distance between us and the Enterprise. We'll have no time to pick up rations."
As he said this, McCoy went around the shuttle and met Spock's eye. He grinned at the look of bewilderment on Spock's face, and gestured for him to come closer. Meanwhile, Dorek was taking things out of his travel bag, and arranging them around the shuttle, with a potentially long trip in mind.
"I don't need very much," Dorek said, getting up to step out of the shuttle. He headed in the direction of McCoy's voice, ready to discuss how they would share rations between them, when he saw McCoy emerge from around the shuttle's stern, bringing Spock with him.
Dorek paled. He dropped a hand against the side of the shuttle to support himself against a sudden wave of nausea. Panic spread as he looked from McCoy to Spock and back again, only to find two cold faces staring him down.
"Doctor?" he asked weakly, and his legs bent as they instinctively prepared to take off running.
"Would you care to explain what you're doing in the Galileo, Captain?" Spock asked. McCoy hung back with his arms crossed as Spock came closer to Dorek. When Dorek began to backpedal, Spock added, "I am unarmed, Sir. I have no intention of harming you if you cooperate."
A rich green color flooded back into Dorek's face as his eyes spilled over. He threw a terrible, agonized look to McCoy, who was unable to hold his gave for very long, and then looked back at Spock. A heavy calm fell over him when he gazed into Spock's dark eyes, because they reminded him of his mentor. Though he was afraid and angry at the betrayal, Dorek was able to guide himself into a zen-like state, just by imagining what his mentor would tell him right then, were she there by his side.
"Don't worry, Commander," Dorek said softly, the beginnings of a smile on his lips as he walked closer to Spock. "I know when I've been caught. I won't resist you." He presented his palms to Spock, showing his hands to be empty, and allowed Spock to take a firm grip of his upper arm. Since Spock had neither weapon nor restraints, he had to simply lead Dorek out of the shuttle bay by the arm.
McCoy would have been lying if seeing Dorek like this, defeated and small in Spock's oppressive grip, wasn't satisfying. But when he watched too long and caught Dorek's eye by accident, he looked away.
He didn't regret what he did. He stood by his decision. But that didn't mean he could stand to look into the Romulan's hardened eyes.
/
Hard, unforgiving walls surrounded Dorek on all sides but one. And the one that was left was worse than a wall. A wall, at least, provided something to hide behind. An opportunity to shut the world out.
But he was left open, exposed to the looks and the words of not only the usual guards, but to a man he once idolized. Dorek had refused to explain himself to Spock. He did not feel any defense could ease his shame; words could only make it worse. Instead he escaped into the privacy and the loneliness of meditation, for once not caring if Spock would judge him. He sought his mentor's memory instead, while Spock finally gave up trying to interrogate him and left.
Dorek knew that Spock would return, most likely with Captain Kirk, and the interrogation would begin in earnest. But Dorek breathed slowly and peacefully, with his eyes fluttered closed and his lips gently parted.
He would not have to suffer that humiliation, he promised himself. A gentle calm passed through him, like the deep, rich breaths he took.
While the singular guard turned his back, perhaps because he felt little reason to stare at his quiet, meditating prisoner, Dorek slowly stood up and went to one corner of his cell. With his back turned to the rest of the world, Dorek reached beneath his robes and slipped off his necklace. The guard had taken Dorek's bag and his cloak, but had apparently overlooked that.
The delicate golden chain had served to hold an IDIC medallion pendant close to his chest beneath his clothing. It had been given to him by his mentor late one night in his youth, and now it rested in his hands. He smiled softly at the symbol and the memories it represented for him. He felt no sadness, no fear now.
Checking over his shoulder one last time to make sure the guard wasn't looking at him, Dorek sat back down on the floor, huddled in the corner, as if drifting off to sleep. He opened his robes so he could hide his arms beneath the folds of fabric and pressed the sharp corner of the metallic triangle against his wrist. His heart raced, but he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and thought of his mentor…
/
Kirk, Spock, and McCoy were in the briefing room, each of them sitting and stewing in silence. McCoy felt as though he'd been through a serious interrogation himself, more due to Kirk's aggressive attitude than any actual questioning.
He had explained to his senior officers already how he had set this entire thing up. He told them how he'd talked to Dorek, gauged his feelings and willingness to escape with him. He assured them that the medical staff, the security details, and plenty more witnesses besides could back up much of what McCoy had said. Even those "private" conversations he and Dorek had shared in the back could be traced; each time McCoy had taken Dorek back there, he had recorded their conversations with the same tricoder he'd used to take the Romulan's readings.
"He would have tried something sooner or later," McCoy said, and not for the first time. The silence, the dark looks he was getting from Kirk, was so oppressive, he'd rather get into another argument than sit through that any longer. As far as he knew, he wasn't being charged with anything, and would most likely walk away from this. He was just waiting for Kirk to personally tell him to leave.
"At least it's done and over with, without anyone having to get hurt," he rationalized.
"What do you have to gain from this?" Kirk asked, and his face betrayed more hurt than anger. "How does any of this affect you?"
"Of course it affects me!" McCoy snapped. "Despite what you think of me, Captain, I'm a part of this crew. If that Romulan would have tried something, like escape or hijacking the ship, you're damn right I'd be affected by that. Hell, even if he sat in his room like a good little boy the whole way to Titus, what if his daddy came looking for him? Did you think of that?"
"Extensively," Kirk growled in response. "Whatever might have happened, believe me, my crew would have been prepared to deal with it."
"At the cost of lives, perhaps?" McCoy goaded. "You might see this mission as transporting refugees, but the Tal-Shiar would call it kidnapping. And the admiral's son, no less!"
"Dammit, that's only assuming his father would have caught up with us! You think it looks any better that we have him in the brig?" Kirk demanded.
McCoy snorted derisively and crossed his arms. "At least there he can't incite his crew. The rest of them will keep their heads down now."
Kirk was about to argue something back, but McCoy interrupted him, practically shouting, "And besides, I didn't exactly twist his arm, did I? Listen to the tapes, you'll see! All I did was let those ideas of escaping come to the surface. Everything he did and thought came from his own-"
Suddenly, Uhura's voice rang out over the intercom: "Medical emergency, medical emergency in holding cell Alpha. Medical team report."
All three forgot their argument for the time being and left as a unit to the brig. McCoy shot an anxious look to Spock, whose expression was maddeningly unreadable. McCoy ended up leading the way, as he ran ahead of the other two.
A small medical team was there already, crouching and kneeling over Dorek's body laid out flat on the floor. His robes had been removed from the waist up, and one ghostly arm lay alongside his body, pale and covered with his own blood. Whenever those of the emergency medical team moved around his greyish, unmoving body, McCoy got a glimpse of the dark green puddle spilling out from beneath him.
Back in his own world, McCoy had fantasized about the brutal death of his hated Romulan admiral since the day he reported on board the I.S.S. Enterprise. He'd imagined the young man dead so many times, it was as if he already knew what his corpse would look like. And that, on seeing it, he would be filled with satisfaction and relief.
Instead, he felt sick. Queasy and faint like a first year hospital corpsman. He was able to overcome it, forced to, rather, as he was expected by everyone there to take over.
He didn't even have to come any closer to know it was too late, but just for appearances, he went over to Dorek and knelt beside him anyway. He took Dorek's arm and in turning it over, found a thick mass of blood caked at his wrist. "Someone give me a medkit, dammit!" he snarled without taking his eyes off Dorek.
As soon as he was supplied, he used a wet cloth to rub the congealed mess of Dorek's wrist, if only to confirm his suspicion. He shook his head as the dull green gashes became visible. He thrust his tricorder at one of the medical responders and ordered her to scan Dorek, while he pressed the tips of two fingers against his carotid artery. There was no pulse.
He let his hand slide down Dorek's neck and sighed. He was not especially sad about this, nor was he overcome with any sort of remorse. He was sure that someone would end up blaming him, but McCoy was not one to care even when he did cause harm to others; mostly because he could rationalize his way out of any guilt in his own mind. If his victim died under his care, that was their own weakness.
But he was struck by how sad, how pathetic Dorek looked now, dying alone in a cell. It was almost like a warning.
McCoy looked up when he sensed a presence above him. Spock looked down at him, his face grim and tightly set. "Can you save him?" he asked.
McCoy just shook his head. There was no trace of sarcasm or malice in him, just the cold facts that anyone else in the room could agree upon. Spock nodded and just observed the scene for a moment. McCoy stood up and gave the rest of the responders room to deal with the body.
He was about to leave when a glittering caught his eye. Everyone else was busy with their duties and did not seem to notice at first, but a few looked up when McCoy picked up the medallion from the floor. It had been snuggled up within Dorek's robes, but all this activity had caused it to fall out.
It was slick with blood, but McCoy didn't even seem to notice. Spock watched him without judgment as he closed his fist around the stained symbol. He then turned on his heel and left Spock alone in this scene of death.