Data

Spock!

Spock's head jerked up the sound of Jim's voice.

He turned around in his chair, scanning his empty apartment and whispered incredulously, "Jim?"

There was no one there. He already knew this fact, yet he was certain that he had just heard Jim's voice. Reluctantly, he turned his focus inwards towards the warm glowing corner in his mind. Spock listened for anything further but he felt nothing else.

Once he had accepted that the bond was there to stay, he had decided to explain the truth to Jim. After the exams were over, that is. Depending on Jim's reaction, and Spock was expecting the worst, he would know what to do next. For now, he just let the bond be. He did refrain from engaging the link actively in any fashion. Doing so would be a severe violation of Jim's privacy.

The very existence of the bond however, did mean that Jim was alive. To Spock's relief, the bond now served as a constant monitoring tool. His anxiety had decreased to manageable level, once he realized this. But, hearing Jim this clearly through the bond was completely unexpected. Was Jim dreaming?Spock did not know how exactly this bond worked. Data on accidental human-Vulcan bonds was nonexistent.

Spock retreated from the space around the golden spot inside his head, and clamped down on the tide of emotions - reassurance, care, longing, worry - which rose inside him. His heart rate had become slightly elevated. His instinctual reaction to Jim calling over the bond, consciously or unconsciously, was to answer. A Vulcan's mind was biologically wired to respond. With some effort, Spock stopped himself, and directed his concentration back to the computer screen.

Since late afternoon, he was following a new thread of investigation. The source of neuroparalyzer found by Dr. McCoy in Jim's body was still a mystery. The good news was the medical lab had recently updated their report; at last the compound had a name.

It was called Nerophrene and was not native to Earth. Nor to Vulcan.

Now that he had a name for the compound, he had run a simple search but that had yielded no result. So, Spock was writing an algorithm, which would comb through the vast records of the Federation, looking for that keyword. There had to be a trace, no matter how well hidden, in the computer records somewhere.

He finished writing the code and the estimated run time showed that the exhaustive search algorithm would take two hours to complete. Spock launched the program and went to change from his robe into non-Vulcan clothing.

He had spent the last two days grading the subjects he taught. He had to fight the impulse to grade Astrophysics first, though it was the last exam which was administered. Instead, he graded the other subjects first and chastised himself for his blatant display of emotionalism.

Astrophysics – the class he taught where Jim was a student - he finished grading it this morning. The student who scored the highest - by a huge margin - was the very same, whose face appeared behind his eyelids whenever he closed them. Spock had to triple check to make sure he was not letting personal bias color his assessment. In the end, he was satisfied with the impartiality of his grading. The inescapable truth was that James T. Kirk was an exceptionally gifted young man. A sensation of warmth had spread throughout him, when he realized this. That was how Spock learned what the emotion 'pride' meant.

Spock tucked his shirt inside his jeans, while gazing at the black faux leather jacket hanging in his closet. His eyes travelled down to the shelf inside his closet, where in a small elegant box, lay a metal key. His fingers touched the key - illogical he knew, but it was the closest to touching Jim. He stepped back and the closet door slid shut. He left his apartment to go on his nightly walk.

It was day seventeen of exams. Walking with hands clasped behind him, head bowed, he wondered idly what Jim must be doing. He did not know Jim's number and neither had he ever offered his own. There was no rational reason to do so. He had Dr. McCoy's number and there had been a clear reason in exchanging that information.

He was aware of how the humans engaged in trivial communication in their spare time - with no purpose except to simply communicate. There had come a time in earth's history when the explosion of this phenomenon had started affecting humankind's productivity. Along with the other reforms, this was one of the hurdles, which mankind had successfully navigated.

Similar to how the current practice of walking was the principal method of transport on the campus, the value of face-to-face interaction had been one of those concepts which was firmly re-established during the reform. Peak physical and mental health was considered a fundamental way of life by current earthmen and women.

Spock was beginning to see the logic of keeping in touch with one's companions when unable to meet in person. In a theoretical world, if he had possessed Jim's number, he probably could have devised some reason to message Jim. But there was no reason for Spock to ask Jim's number. Their joint work was complete and Jim was no longer his student either. Spock sighed internally.

Jim had once asked him, if he missed his home, parents or his planet. Spock had replied that missing anything was a human emotion and hence Spock did not experience it. Like so many things in his life, this too had changed. He acknowledged to himself that truth - yes, he missed Jim. Probably much more acutely than any human missed another given how deep Vulcan emotions ran. He was surprised to find that the emotion produced physical symptoms as well. He distinctly felt what could only be termed as heartache. Spock was still Vulcan enough to recognize this as fascinating!

He could once again enjoy the beauty of the sunset over the bay. Now that the bond thrummed constantly in his mind, he was always aware that, whatever else was going on with Jim, he was not in mortal danger.

He returned to his apartment precisely after two hours. It was 2215.

Spock did not even change his clothing because on his screen, he saw that the algorithm had spat out a single result. He went over to his desk and stared at the computer screen for several moments. Was it possible?

Name of drug : Nerophrene

Date of transaction : 2252.8 (August 22)

Initiated by : James T. Kirk. Serial #:SC937-0176CEC

The evidence was clear. There was no ambiguity. Jim himself had been responsible? Spock's anxiety came back in full force. Had the PTSD or depression got to Jim? Had he been suicidal?

The mere thoughts sent a sharp pain through him. He stood staring silently at the terminal. His mind was in a complete turmoil.

Spock's human and Vulcan sides erupted into a battle. Logic dictated that, when one eliminated the impossible, what remained however improbable, must be the truth. Emotion refused to consider that Jim had thought of taking his own life.

His confusion was a most uncharacteristic reaction. Spock had always been sure of himself for remaining calm, no matter what the circumstances.

Eventually, his thoughts settled down enough and he calmed down. He remembered there was one way to find out. Dr. McCoy would know. So, he took out his communicator and typed out a message to the doctor.

"Doctor, Spock here. Have you met Cadet Kirk lately?"

After a few seconds, the reply flashed.

"I am a doctor, not a pigeon! First he asks about you, then you about him. I didn't sign up to carry messages. Why can't you ask each other directly? Yeah, I just left his room fifteen minutes ago."

Spock's eyebrows shot up. Jim had asked about him? And why was Dr. McCoy inside Jim's personal quarters? A somewhat familiar emotion he recognized as jealousy raised its head. He would never admit that to the doctor, of course. He would also never admit that the barbed reply from the doctor oddly soothed Spock. It brought back some semblance of normalcy to the moment.

"I find no resemblance to the member of the bird family Columbidae. However, if you were eager for my opinion, you have an uncanny resemblance to the terran mammal, Otter."

There was a few seconds of silence, during which Spock's lips bent slightly, imagining the good doctor's reaction.

"You pointy eared, green blooded, alien! ! ! "

"That is an accurate description. Thank you. I would like to point out though, the use of three exclamation marks is unnecessary. One is entirely sufficient."

"So help me Lord!"

Spock didn't attempt to wipe away the tiny smirk off his face. In fact, the doctor's reaction cleared up his mind entirely of earlier confusion.

"Unfortunately, it is I, who require your help. I need your advice, doctor."

"Never thought I would live long enough to hear that!"

Spock ignored the comment.

"Are you aware of any suicidal ideation in Cadet Kirk in last few months?"

Spock waited for a reply but none came. After several moments, he typed, "Doctor?"

"What in the blazes are you talking about?"

Spock sighed. Dr. McCoy was incapable of answering in a straight forward manner. Spock typed in his explanation of what he had found.

"That's impossible! Jim wouldn't do that."

"Can you rule out the possibility completely?"

"Well,no, not completely. But I'll be damned if this was true."

"Data do not lie, doctor."

"No, but men entering that data, in your precious machine can!"

"What are you suggesting?"

"Who approved of the request?" the doctor asked.

Spock's smirk got replaced by a frown. The doctor was right. Why had not he thought of it himself?

"Don't tell me that brain of yours forgot this little detail? It's a class H drug, one can't just bring it in on a Cadet's request. Who approved it?" The doctor had latched on like a Piranha to the one mistake Spock had ever made.

"I do not know."

"Look it up!"

Spock was already doing that. The public log entry was curiously marked with a code signifying it was highly classified information. Spock couldn't get past it.

"The system will not let me access."

"Really? And here I thought you knew everything about computers."

Spock was tempted to do a very human gesture - roll his eyes.

"I do."

"Well, get to it then, Mr. Vulcan!"

"Doctor, please, I request that you do not share this information with anyone yet - for Cadet Kirk's safety."

"Understood, Spock."

Spock closed his comm. and sat down on the chair.

He had finally reached the point in his investigation, which he had feared. Further probing would now require him to rely solely on his superior knowledge of computer technology. His actions would be considered illegal, if he was discovered. There was no doubt in his mind. The moral course of action was to use his intellect to find the truth. In this, both his human and Vulcan sides agreed. The truth was the scientist's ultimate goal as well.

So, Spock worked for the next forty five minutes, breaking through several levels of encryption and security protocols. Finally, the screen resolved into a white background and black letters spelled out what Spock was looking for.

Name of drug : Nerophrene

Date of transaction : 2252.8 (August 22)

Initiated by : James T. Kirk. Serial #:SC937-0176CEC

Approved by: Vice Admiral Connor Burke

Spock read the name in the last column. Immediately, he was reminded of another piece of information he had read a week back. He pulled up Cadet Finnegan's file and found the line he was looking for.

Mother: Sarah B. Finnegan (formerly Sarah Burke).

If his suspicion was correct, it was a simple matter of searching the publicly available database. His fingers flew as he ran a query on the marriage and annulment section and this time, he was satisfied, when the computer confirmed his hunch.

Year of annulment: 2242.

Defendants: Sarah Burke and Connor Burke.

Reason: Irreconcilable Differences.

Filed by: Sarah Burke.

So, Cadet Finnegan was the biological son of Vice Admiral Burke. And the Admiral had approved of the drug which nearly killed Jim. Spock still didn't know why and how Jim had requested this drug. But he felt like he was closer to the truth, than he had been in months. All this had been buried under so many layers of security, that Spock doubted anyone else with lesser computer skills, could have discovered it.

Spock rose and finally went to change his clothing. A cup of warm tea was in order.