A transport. Fire. A phaser going off. A woman screaming.
Spock moved his head back and forth on the pillow, closed eyes twitching, before finally coming to.
"Welcome back." A deep voice spoke from the corner.
He opened his eyes and found a tall man in robes hovering nearby.
"Father?"
Sarek stepped forward. Spock sat up and leaned against the headboard. He felt better than the night before, but still a little…off. In moving, he felt pain in his arms. One side was connected to an IV drip of fluids. The other was just a green bruise from where a needle had been previously.
"Don't strain yourself." A pale hand made the stop motion, then returned into its dark, velvety sleeve.
His mind raced through what had led up to his loss of consciousness. "The doctor…"
"Dr. McCoy needed the medical bay for the victims of the Pike Memorial Research Station attack- which has been destroyed entirely. Nurse Chapel brought you back to your quarters."
"Not that doctor," His mouth and eyes were dry. "The…" His mind was blank. "The woman, like us-" He disconnected the IV and rubbed his head, "Is she alive?"
"Dr. Vida suffered many serious injuries-"
"She's dead?"
"No, not at present. McCoy employed the phrase 'not out of the woods yet'."
Spock sighed, relief, and relaxed back against his pillow. His clothes were charred, and he still wreaked of smoke. "For what reason do you visit the Enterprise?
"As an ambassador to New Vulcan, I was asked to join our scientists on their mission to retrieve Dr. Vida's research materials."
"Project Keshtan? I was not aware of its existence until yesterday."
"In her possession were one hundred, healthy Vulcan embryos. Were it not for your perilous return to the research station in the midst of its destruction, this cargo would not have been retrieved. For that reason, New Vulcan thanks you for your heroism."
He nodded, accepting the thanks. "I was unaware of the embryos. I went back for the scientist for the sake of New Vulcan. I assume she stayed behind to finish transferring data."
"It is not certain. If she survives, you can find out. I am certain she stayed behind, risking herself, for the sake of the new colony. It is a commonality between the two of you." He approached the exit. "I would appreciate being informed of her status as it changes. The colony is anticipating our return."
"That is feasible."
The father held out his hand, fingers shaped in a V. "Live long and prosper." The Son echoed the sentiment.
***
Nurse Chapel rolled a cart into the intensive care room.
After nearly an entire night full of surgery and monitoring, her patient had stabilized for the time being. She managed to convince Dr. McCoy to get some rest, insisting of course that she would too as soon as she cleaned up the patient.
They'd discovered the night before, upon removing a bracelet, that she had seemingly packed for her evacuation. The cube-shaped charms, when removed, expanded into full trunks. One contained antique medical texts. One contained cosmetics, primarily from earth, and some other jewelry. One contained an extra lab coat, a Starfleet uniform, Vulcan ceremonial robes, undergarments, and a few other clothing items. There was a blush colored, satin nightgown there the nurse found. It was soft to the touch, and reminded her that her patient was another woman, perhaps her own age. Despite being in a medically induced coma, she deserved some comfort and dignity.
The nurse pushed a button, folding in a top portion of the bed. The patient's dark, matted hair fell over the edge. She detached a sprayer from the wall and began to rinse the hair. Dark green water poured and rolled down to the drain in the floor. Once the hair was wet, she found some hair products in the cosmetics box to use./p
"I know I hate having to borrow shampoo from somewhere else." Nurse Chapel smiled. She didn't know whether or not the patient could hear her, but it didn't matter. "Maybe this way, you'll feel a little more like yourself, huh?" She towel dried the hair, and brushed it out gently. Once the hair was finally smooth, and come to find out, long, she replaced the top portion of the bed.
Continuing, the nurse removed the paper gown and tenderly washed the body. "This soap smells divine…moisturizing too." Her skin was smooth with a slight shimmer, no hair other than her head, and no blemishes other than scars. She was cool to the touch and fleshy all over- not heavy, but not thin either- a very womanly shape- full in the breasts and hips, smaller in the middle. It reminded her of an antique film poster with a 1950's movie star that hung in the Captain's quarters.
"The dressings needed changing and she needed dressing. She slid the gown under her legs and shimmied it up the limp form, not bothering to struggle with the straps. "You, miss, have excellent taste. Maybe if…WHEN you get better, we can take a shore leave to go shop or something like that."
"Perhaps she was tired, or perhaps she missed having girl friends to do girls things with. On she went, deodorant, perfume, a little facial cream. She found herself admiring the woman's nails which had stayed relatively intact.
"Nurse Chapel-" Spock peeked in the doorway and found a nurse seated on the edge of a patient's bed, filing her nails.
"Mr. Spock!" She jumped up to stand at attention.
He looked around at the trunks. "Where did these items come from?"
"She, um, Dr. Vida, she packed them." His eyebrow raised. "No, uh, she has this bracelet, and those things shrink-"
"And you decided to unpack them?"
"No! Well, yes, kind of. You see Mr. Spock, she was such a mess when she came in but the picture on her identification badge was lovely. I…" His expression was stern. "I'm a woman dammit! I like perfume and nail files, but no. All men all the time around here-"
"A third of our crew is female-"
"Yes, there are women aboard! But we're stuck in uniforms. We don't have time or spaces to get together just us. And here she is and she's hurt and…She needs a friend, Mr. Spock. I unpacked her things to clean her up, give her some dignity and a sense of self."
His expression softened. "Very well."
Nurse Chapel sighed and relaxed from her defense. "How are YOU feeling?" She reached for his arm and slid up his sleeve. "Ouch," She winced, "I'm sorry but you're the only other Vulcan on board. She required a substantial volume of blood and since nothing else was the matter with you, Dr. McCoy just kept letting you drip."
"I feel minimally lightheaded but otherwise fine." He retracted his arm and put his sleeve back in place, then looked over the nurse. Her hair was a mess and dark circles loomed beneath her eyes. "You haven't slept."
"No sir…I was on my way to, when I had this idea. I'll be headed there shortly. Another nurse will be by to check in in a few minutes."
"Noted. Thank you, nurse." Spock nodded as the nurse went to exit.
In the doorframe she hesitated, noticing Spock's stillness and fixed attention on her patient. Then she admired her own work, "I think she's quite pretty." He didn't respond. She took her leave.
Spock tilted his head at an angle. He concurred with the nurse.
The room was a light blue color, blinking with various machine's lights, the bed was white, the gown was a faint pink- even the patient herself was fair in complexion. The light and bright was jarringly disrupted by the dark hair, the dark eyebrows, and dark lashes.
Seeing the scientist, clean and peaceful, caught Spock off guard. He felt a stirring of sorts, unfamiliar, and uneasy. Sympathy? Concern? Admiration?
He glanced over some of the boxes. A smell made its way to him, like an almond blossom- sweet like a baked good, but with hints of something floral. He recognized the scent when he saw the perfume atop one of the trunks; she must have acquired it on Vulcan before its destruction.
Approaching the bed, he noticed that she had a softness to some of her features that didn't seem Vulcan. Upon closer inspection, he was sure that she was half human- like him. He'd never seen a female like him before. Touch her.
Spock felt a compulsion, urging him to make contact of some sort. Unsure of which side, prompted it, he pushed it down. It was illogical as she was incapable of interaction at the moment. Yet, he felt powerless, as his hand neared hers. Two fingers glided over the back of her hand. On contact there was a buzz, or shiver, or shudder from him. The slow, low beeping of monitors suddenly shot up in volume and frequency.
He jumped, withdrawing his hand. The beeps returned to their original rhythm and volume.
A nurse ran in, but was surprised to find all was well.
Spock slipped past her in the doorway on his way out.