The Karidian players are performing Hamlet.
Dr. McCoy finally confronted the captain when he visited the Sickbay. Lt. Riley was attacked at 1239 and like his predecessors, suffers severe brain damage, to the point where he is in a completely vegetative state. It will be the captain's decision whether to keep the lieutenant on life support or to terminate his life.
"I thought that if I kept my mouth shut, you'd come around and tell me or Spock or someone on your own, but no! You kept this whole damn thing to yourself, invited the goddamned governor himself to kill off the rest of you! Now you've got Riley in a coma that he's never going to wake up from!"
"Bones, I had it under control—"
"You just shut up and listen for one goddamn minute of your life, James Tiberius Kirk. You make this decision unilaterally and now you're paying for it. I've been your best friend for the past what? Four years? How the hell do you justify keeping that kind of a secret!
"But that's not the clincher. I know you, Jim. You're waiting. You're not sure that this guy Karidian is Kodos—I've read all those psych textbooks about what traumatic events do to memories. And then there's that annoying habit of yours to up and willingly forget about all the disturbing, painful, fucked up shit you've been through. Coping habits, yeah I get it, Jim.
"That doesn't change the fact that you're waiting, waiting for something that'll trigger your memory and make you sure that it's Kodos you've got here. What if you decide he is Kodos? What then? Do you play God, carry his head through the corridors in triumph? That won't bring back the dead, Jim!"
"No. But they might rest easier."
"Bullshit. This is personal for you. This isn't about justice, it's about revenge. We found the lists—the man killed your mother and stepfather. Did you also know that eight of the nine survivors have been attacked, and every single time, the Karidian players were lurking somewhere behind stage?"
"The correlation is direct, captain. An agent among the Karidian actors has been eliminating the survivors of Tarsus IV. An attempt will be made to kill you. You are already aware of this, and have been aware of it from the moment you allowed the acting troupe to board this ship. A better question is—why do you invite death?"
"Let me ask you just one thing." There was viciousness in his voice.
"Shoot."
"Do you have any hard evidence that this guy is Kodos? That proves beyond a fucking doubt that he ordered four thousand people to be massacred. Because I sure as fuck don't have anything."
"Jim, the evidence—"
"Is all circumstantial. The bastard cleaned up his trail real good, so they don't even have DNA samples to identify him. Only fucking voice recordings. And I've already run that test and the fucking computer says that it's inconclusive. Of course it's inconclusive, it's been fucking thirteen years since Tarsus.
"I'm not out for revenge. Think what you want, but I'm not out for revenge. I have every fucking reason to do it, but if I were, I would've killed him as soon as I saw him. Every instinct is screaming at me that this is Kodos, but that's all I have. And it's not enough to bring him to trial, it's not enough to convict him, and whatever I do sure as hell isn't enough to make him pay for what he's done.
"And if I had killed him, you wouldn't even know it," the captain breathe harshly.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean—"
"I was alone with him. Standing the same room, chatting. That voice, god, it fucking echoes in my head," the captain began pacing. "He read the pronouncement. Had it fucking memorized, even. I made him read it. I could have killed him right then and there and no one would have known. Just dump his body in space and make up some convenient excuse," he laughed mirthlessly. "It would have been so easy, blood oozing out of every orifice. A nameless death. But I didn't. And I have no idea why I didn't."
The doctor clasped the captain's shoulder and looked him straight in the eyes.
"Because you're not God. You're James Tiberius Kirk, the idiot who commands the U.S.S. Enterprise. The same man who offered, for reasons that are still beyond me, help and compassion to that insane Romulan. Maybe on Tarsus you were alone and scared shitless, but that's the past and this is now. You've got me and Spock beside you."
The captain looked at me. The question hung—Spock?
My mother's family was of Jewish origin. They did not practice that religion actively, but my mother loved to read the Tanakh. I once read the entirety of the Hebrew Holy Scriptures in my teenage years. It stimulated my interest in Terran history and the human species, but most of it puzzled me greatly.
For reasons unknown, a passage from the book of Ruth came to my mind as I neatly stepped towards the captain.
Entreat me not to leave thee, and to return from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God; where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried; the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.
An extravagant vow on the part of Ruth. It is imprudent and impossible to offer such loyalty to one being.
The captain's blue eyes regarded me, waiting. I nodded.
"I am here, captain."