DEGUELLO - Chapter 16
by Trish Bennett
Spock sat alone in his darkened quarters wrapped in his black meditation robe. The concentration required for effective meditation continued to elude him, though he was unsure why. The Vulcan reached for his harp.
Without hesitation, his fingers began to glide gracefully over the strings. It was a soothing melody, a string movement from an ancient Vulcan concerto which he had memorized as a child. He had always found this particular piece of music could clear his mind nearly as effectively as deep meditation.
Spock closed his eyes and allowed himself to empty his mind of the events of the past several days. In a few moments, the music had successfully entered his soul. The harp was no longer an instrument. It was part of him, and he of it. They had combined to speak through the voice of the strings, and he began to feel his restlessness slip slowly into oblivion.
A full day had passed since the Captain's rescue, but his recovery was still very much in question. That fact alone could be the major source of Spock's unrest. The Vulcan had been reviewing the facts constantly in his mind since the onset of this crisis. Was there something he could have done to prevent it?
Spock believed he was personally responsible for the Captain's abduction. He should not have allowed Kirk to go anywhere without surveying the situation himself first. It was not a matter of conscience. It was a matter of duty.
One of the primary duties of a First Officer was to insure the safety of the Captain. Unfortunately, James Kirk had an unrivaled ability to become entangled in dangerous situations. In fact, he seemed to attract them like a magnetic energy field.
If Spock had his way, Kirk would never leave the confines of his ship. That, in itself, would simplify the Vulcan's job immensely. But the Captain had made it clear from the beginning that he had no intention of ordering his crew into any situation he would not gladly enter into himself. And since that time, there had only been very few occasions when someone had left the Enterprise without the Captain leading the way.
Initially, the two of them had debated over the wisdom of this philosophy. Spock had lost the argument. He found on that occasion, and many times since then, that once Kirk had made up his mind, nothing Spock could say would even begin to sway his convictions. But after this experience, he decided it was time to broach the subject with Kirk again.
With the Captain's unrelenting obstinance in mind, Spock came to realize that nothing he could have done would have prevented this crisis. And once involved, the most he could possibly hope to achieve was the Captain's safe return to the Enterprise. He had accomplished that goal. He had followed a logical course of action and had fulfilled a First Officer's primary duty. And at last, he could allow himself to be satisfied with that.
The communication buzzer was a rude intrusion to this serenity. He opened his eyes to stare at it a moment before reluctantly placing the harp back on its stand. Spock strode to his desk and flipped the switch.
"Spock here," he said.
"Spock, I need you!" It was McCoy's voice, and he sounded almost frantic. "Get down here!"
The Vulcan barely heard the, "Hurry!" on his way through the doors.
When he arrived in Sickbay, McCoy and Nurse Chapel were struggling to keep the Captain in his bed. Kirk was fighting fiercely against the restraints that McCoy had attempted to use.
Kirk's voice was hoarse and dry as he repeatedly cried the Vulcan's name. Spock stood motionless in the doorway. He was not at all prepared for this.
"Doctor McCoy..." he said at last.
"It's about time!" the Doctor snapped, still struggling with his reluctant patient. "Get over here!"
Spock immediately obliged, his eyes fixed upon the Captain.
"He's been calling for you," McCoy explained quickly. "I can't keep him still, but I'm half afraid to give him anything."
Spock felt an uneasy sensation in his stomach, a tight, clenching feeling that he had not experienced before. Suddenly he was filled with hesitation.
He had seen the Captain in various emotional states many times before. In love and in rage. In joy and in grief. In various levels of pain, both physical and emotional. But never quite like this. He looked up into McCoy's probing eyes.
"Just talk to him," the Doctor said urgently. "It's worth a try."
Spock squared his shoulders and inhaled deeply before he said, "Captain Kirk."
McCoy and Chapel stepped back as Spock moved toward the bed. Kirk was thrashing, as if in the throes of a nightmare. His eyes were closed, and he was fighting the black restraining strap that was still wrapped loosely around his wrist. He was still muttering the Vulcan's name.
Spock reached down with slender fingers to remove the strap, the apparent source of the Captain's irritation.
"Jim," he said softly. "I am here."
Kirk seemed to settle down almost immediately at the sound of Spock's voice. He opened his eyes to search vacant air before finally focusing on the Vulcan's face.
His voice was a breathless whisper. "Spock..."
"Yes, Captain."
"Spock, I have to tell you..." Kirk was breathing heavily now, making it difficult for him to speak. "...have to warn you..."
Spock looked up at the Doctor. McCoy could only offer him a helpless shrug.
"Warn me, Captain?"
"Don't let him do it, Spock...don't let him...don't let him have her..."
Spock's eyes narrowed. The tightness in his stomach had not improved. "Captain, I don't understand..."
Kirk's hand reached up to grasp at the sleeve of the Vulcan's black robe. Spock leaned closer obligingly. The Captain's eyelids fluttered shut, then open again.
"Don't let him take my ship...he wants her...he wants the Enterprise..."
Spock finally began to understand the course of Kirk's delirium, but he was unsure what he could say to ease the Captain's mind.
"Jim, you are aboard the Enterprise," he assured him. "The ship is safe."
"No..." Kirk whispered urgently. "No, it's not...don't let your guard down...you have to...get away from here..."
"Captain, listen to me." Spock's voice was stern. "The ship is safe. We are en route to Starbase Eleven. The Enterprise is in no danger."
"...promise me, Spock..." It was clear that his assurances were having little effect. "...don't let him have my ship...promise me..."
Spock looked back at McCoy. The Doctor's eyes silently urged him on. He leaned closer, making certain that Kirk was seeing him before he spoke again.
"Captain, I give you my word. No harm will come to the Enterprise."
Kirk stared at him silently for several moments, the only sound in the room his unsteady breathing. Finally even that seemed to calm itself, and Kirk finally allowed himself to relax. He smiled weakly, gave Spock a feeble nod, and closed his eyes once more. He appeared to drift peacefully to sleep.
Spock continued to stare at him, unmoving, before finally backing away from the bed. He looked into McCoy's haggard face.
"Remarkable," McCoy said approvingly. "Ever thought of joining the medical profession?"
Spock remained silent. The Doctor sighed heavily.
"I'm sorry, Spock. I know how hard this is for you."
Spock raised the traditional eyebrow. "In what way, Doctor?"
McCoy's combative reflexes seemed to have been exhausted. In a situation which would normally spark an argument, McCoy was displaying a look of unmasked compassion. Unfortunately, it did nothing to improve the clenching in Spock's stomach.
"Don't shut me out, Spock," he said quietly. "Not now. I want to help, if I can."
Spock glanced quickly around and realized that Nurse Chapel had gone. He did not remember her departure, but he was grateful for it.
"I do not require your assistance, Doctor. I am fine."
McCoy shook his head. "Contrary to popular belief, Mr. Spock, I know that Vulcans have the same emotions that we humans do. All Vulcans, Spock, not just you. Why do you insist on hiding them?"
This was not a conversation Spock wished to indulge in. "We do not hide them, Doctor. We control them. There is a difference."
"Are you getting defensive?"
"I am making a statement."
McCoy rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. "I'm not trying to pick a fight with you, Spock. I'm just saying that, where emotions exist, there is a need for an occasional emotional release. There's nothing wrong with that."
Spock gazed at him levelly. "Doctor, you have an unfortunate tendency to judge the universe by human standards. Humans feel the need to display their emotions because that is what they are bred to do. So much, in fact, that the suppression of emotion in human beings can be dangerous, both mentally and physically."
McCoy offered him a sly grin. "So you have been listening to my lectures all this time."
"It is difficult to avoid them. But what you refuse to understand is that Vulcans are bred to control their emotions. Therefore, the opposite is true."
"But you're half human."
"Yes," Spock replied, "as you are so fond of reminding me. But I am a Vulcan in body. A Vulcan in mind. And, therefore, a Vulcan in discipline. The human factor, although a minor inconvenience at times, does not apply."
McCoy studied him solemnly. "Is that an assurance to me or yourself?"
Spock allowed himself an audible sigh. "I am what I am, Doctor. I make no apologies for it...to anyone."
The Doctor seemed appeased by the response. He looked down at the motionless Captain in the bed between them before looking back at Spock.
"I think he'll be all right for now," he said finally. "Why don't you go...relax a bit."
Spock squared his shoulders once again. "With your permission, I will stay for a while."
The Doctor shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'll be in my office. If you need me, just yell."
Spock opened his mouth to offer a smug remark but thought better of it. "I shall do so," he replied simply.
He watched McCoy amble off toward his office and felt an odd sense of relief as the Doctor disappeared through the doors. Spock watched after him for several moments before finally moving to ease himself into the chair at the Captain's bedside.
He studied the sleeping human in silence and was suddenly reminded of a remark McCoy had made earlier in the day. He's not out of the woods yet. It was a quaint metaphor which McCoy had been known to use for such an occasion, but its meaning was uncomfortably clear. There was still no assurance that the Captain would survive.
And if he did not...Spock was forced to consider that possibility.
His relationship with James Kirk had been a rocky one, at best, in the beginning. Spock had grown accustomed to Christopher Pike...his steadiness, his experience, his wisdom. When Kirk first assumed command of the Enterprise, there was a sizeable difference.
He was young, younger than any Starship commander. He was relatively inexperienced compared to Christopher Pike. He was arrogant...cocky, if Spock understood the meaning of the word. And those were human characteristics which Spock found mildly offensive.
As time went by, however, the Vulcan had come to realize that all of those attributes combined to make Kirk the most effective commander that he had ever known. Spock grew to respect him, though many times he did not agree with him. And Kirk, he believed, had come to understand him better than anyone else in the universe.
Lieutenant Uhura had told him once that Kirk was the closest thing he had to a friend. Though he had dismissed the comment at the time, she had been correct. James Kirk was, indeed, his friend, something he had never really had before.
A successor could be found to assume command of the Enterprise, if not an equal replacement. But if Kirk were to die, that friendship would die with him. And Spock would mourn that loss for the rest of his life. There could be no replacement for that, not even a successor. Spock knew with certainty that he would never share that relationship with anyone again.
Spock began to consider the possibility of resigning his commission with Starfleet. It would be difficult for him to continue to serve on a ship full of humans after the loss of this particular one.
Would that be considered a concession that he did, indeed, react to his emotions despite his constant assurances to the contrary? Perhaps. But perhaps it no longer mattered.
They were scheduled to arrive at Starbase Eleven in less than a day. Considering Admiral Fitzpatrick's state of mind during their last conversation, the decision might well be made for him.
He decided at that moment that, no matter what the Admiral's decision, he would not attempt to fight it. If Kirk should die, it would make little difference to Spock if he were court martialed. And if he should live, he would have quite enough on his mind without the added burden of a battle with Starfleet Command.
Spock rose from his chair and gazed into the Captain's sleeping face.
"Rest well, my friend," he whispered. Then, without a backward glance, he strode through the doors into the corridor.
by Trish Bennett
Spock sat alone in his darkened quarters wrapped in his black meditation robe. The concentration required for effective meditation continued to elude him, though he was unsure why. The Vulcan reached for his harp.
Without hesitation, his fingers began to glide gracefully over the strings. It was a soothing melody, a string movement from an ancient Vulcan concerto which he had memorized as a child. He had always found this particular piece of music could clear his mind nearly as effectively as deep meditation.
Spock closed his eyes and allowed himself to empty his mind of the events of the past several days. In a few moments, the music had successfully entered his soul. The harp was no longer an instrument. It was part of him, and he of it. They had combined to speak through the voice of the strings, and he began to feel his restlessness slip slowly into oblivion.
A full day had passed since the Captain's rescue, but his recovery was still very much in question. That fact alone could be the major source of Spock's unrest. The Vulcan had been reviewing the facts constantly in his mind since the onset of this crisis. Was there something he could have done to prevent it?
Spock believed he was personally responsible for the Captain's abduction. He should not have allowed Kirk to go anywhere without surveying the situation himself first. It was not a matter of conscience. It was a matter of duty.
One of the primary duties of a First Officer was to insure the safety of the Captain. Unfortunately, James Kirk had an unrivaled ability to become entangled in dangerous situations. In fact, he seemed to attract them like a magnetic energy field.
If Spock had his way, Kirk would never leave the confines of his ship. That, in itself, would simplify the Vulcan's job immensely. But the Captain had made it clear from the beginning that he had no intention of ordering his crew into any situation he would not gladly enter into himself. And since that time, there had only been very few occasions when someone had left the Enterprise without the Captain leading the way.
Initially, the two of them had debated over the wisdom of this philosophy. Spock had lost the argument. He found on that occasion, and many times since then, that once Kirk had made up his mind, nothing Spock could say would even begin to sway his convictions. But after this experience, he decided it was time to broach the subject with Kirk again.
With the Captain's unrelenting obstinance in mind, Spock came to realize that nothing he could have done would have prevented this crisis. And once involved, the most he could possibly hope to achieve was the Captain's safe return to the Enterprise. He had accomplished that goal. He had followed a logical course of action and had fulfilled a First Officer's primary duty. And at last, he could allow himself to be satisfied with that.
The communication buzzer was a rude intrusion to this serenity. He opened his eyes to stare at it a moment before reluctantly placing the harp back on its stand. Spock strode to his desk and flipped the switch.
"Spock here," he said.
"Spock, I need you!" It was McCoy's voice, and he sounded almost frantic. "Get down here!"
The Vulcan barely heard the, "Hurry!" on his way through the doors.
When he arrived in Sickbay, McCoy and Nurse Chapel were struggling to keep the Captain in his bed. Kirk was fighting fiercely against the restraints that McCoy had attempted to use.
Kirk's voice was hoarse and dry as he repeatedly cried the Vulcan's name. Spock stood motionless in the doorway. He was not at all prepared for this.
"Doctor McCoy..." he said at last.
"It's about time!" the Doctor snapped, still struggling with his reluctant patient. "Get over here!"
Spock immediately obliged, his eyes fixed upon the Captain.
"He's been calling for you," McCoy explained quickly. "I can't keep him still, but I'm half afraid to give him anything."
Spock felt an uneasy sensation in his stomach, a tight, clenching feeling that he had not experienced before. Suddenly he was filled with hesitation.
He had seen the Captain in various emotional states many times before. In love and in rage. In joy and in grief. In various levels of pain, both physical and emotional. But never quite like this. He looked up into McCoy's probing eyes.
"Just talk to him," the Doctor said urgently. "It's worth a try."
Spock squared his shoulders and inhaled deeply before he said, "Captain Kirk."
McCoy and Chapel stepped back as Spock moved toward the bed. Kirk was thrashing, as if in the throes of a nightmare. His eyes were closed, and he was fighting the black restraining strap that was still wrapped loosely around his wrist. He was still muttering the Vulcan's name.
Spock reached down with slender fingers to remove the strap, the apparent source of the Captain's irritation.
"Jim," he said softly. "I am here."
Kirk seemed to settle down almost immediately at the sound of Spock's voice. He opened his eyes to search vacant air before finally focusing on the Vulcan's face.
His voice was a breathless whisper. "Spock..."
"Yes, Captain."
"Spock, I have to tell you..." Kirk was breathing heavily now, making it difficult for him to speak. "...have to warn you..."
Spock looked up at the Doctor. McCoy could only offer him a helpless shrug.
"Warn me, Captain?"
"Don't let him do it, Spock...don't let him...don't let him have her..."
Spock's eyes narrowed. The tightness in his stomach had not improved. "Captain, I don't understand..."
Kirk's hand reached up to grasp at the sleeve of the Vulcan's black robe. Spock leaned closer obligingly. The Captain's eyelids fluttered shut, then open again.
"Don't let him take my ship...he wants her...he wants the Enterprise..."
Spock finally began to understand the course of Kirk's delirium, but he was unsure what he could say to ease the Captain's mind.
"Jim, you are aboard the Enterprise," he assured him. "The ship is safe."
"No..." Kirk whispered urgently. "No, it's not...don't let your guard down...you have to...get away from here..."
"Captain, listen to me." Spock's voice was stern. "The ship is safe. We are en route to Starbase Eleven. The Enterprise is in no danger."
"...promise me, Spock..." It was clear that his assurances were having little effect. "...don't let him have my ship...promise me..."
Spock looked back at McCoy. The Doctor's eyes silently urged him on. He leaned closer, making certain that Kirk was seeing him before he spoke again.
"Captain, I give you my word. No harm will come to the Enterprise."
Kirk stared at him silently for several moments, the only sound in the room his unsteady breathing. Finally even that seemed to calm itself, and Kirk finally allowed himself to relax. He smiled weakly, gave Spock a feeble nod, and closed his eyes once more. He appeared to drift peacefully to sleep.
Spock continued to stare at him, unmoving, before finally backing away from the bed. He looked into McCoy's haggard face.
"Remarkable," McCoy said approvingly. "Ever thought of joining the medical profession?"
Spock remained silent. The Doctor sighed heavily.
"I'm sorry, Spock. I know how hard this is for you."
Spock raised the traditional eyebrow. "In what way, Doctor?"
McCoy's combative reflexes seemed to have been exhausted. In a situation which would normally spark an argument, McCoy was displaying a look of unmasked compassion. Unfortunately, it did nothing to improve the clenching in Spock's stomach.
"Don't shut me out, Spock," he said quietly. "Not now. I want to help, if I can."
Spock glanced quickly around and realized that Nurse Chapel had gone. He did not remember her departure, but he was grateful for it.
"I do not require your assistance, Doctor. I am fine."
McCoy shook his head. "Contrary to popular belief, Mr. Spock, I know that Vulcans have the same emotions that we humans do. All Vulcans, Spock, not just you. Why do you insist on hiding them?"
This was not a conversation Spock wished to indulge in. "We do not hide them, Doctor. We control them. There is a difference."
"Are you getting defensive?"
"I am making a statement."
McCoy rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. "I'm not trying to pick a fight with you, Spock. I'm just saying that, where emotions exist, there is a need for an occasional emotional release. There's nothing wrong with that."
Spock gazed at him levelly. "Doctor, you have an unfortunate tendency to judge the universe by human standards. Humans feel the need to display their emotions because that is what they are bred to do. So much, in fact, that the suppression of emotion in human beings can be dangerous, both mentally and physically."
McCoy offered him a sly grin. "So you have been listening to my lectures all this time."
"It is difficult to avoid them. But what you refuse to understand is that Vulcans are bred to control their emotions. Therefore, the opposite is true."
"But you're half human."
"Yes," Spock replied, "as you are so fond of reminding me. But I am a Vulcan in body. A Vulcan in mind. And, therefore, a Vulcan in discipline. The human factor, although a minor inconvenience at times, does not apply."
McCoy studied him solemnly. "Is that an assurance to me or yourself?"
Spock allowed himself an audible sigh. "I am what I am, Doctor. I make no apologies for it...to anyone."
The Doctor seemed appeased by the response. He looked down at the motionless Captain in the bed between them before looking back at Spock.
"I think he'll be all right for now," he said finally. "Why don't you go...relax a bit."
Spock squared his shoulders once again. "With your permission, I will stay for a while."
The Doctor shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'll be in my office. If you need me, just yell."
Spock opened his mouth to offer a smug remark but thought better of it. "I shall do so," he replied simply.
He watched McCoy amble off toward his office and felt an odd sense of relief as the Doctor disappeared through the doors. Spock watched after him for several moments before finally moving to ease himself into the chair at the Captain's bedside.
He studied the sleeping human in silence and was suddenly reminded of a remark McCoy had made earlier in the day. He's not out of the woods yet. It was a quaint metaphor which McCoy had been known to use for such an occasion, but its meaning was uncomfortably clear. There was still no assurance that the Captain would survive.
And if he did not...Spock was forced to consider that possibility.
His relationship with James Kirk had been a rocky one, at best, in the beginning. Spock had grown accustomed to Christopher Pike...his steadiness, his experience, his wisdom. When Kirk first assumed command of the Enterprise, there was a sizeable difference.
He was young, younger than any Starship commander. He was relatively inexperienced compared to Christopher Pike. He was arrogant...cocky, if Spock understood the meaning of the word. And those were human characteristics which Spock found mildly offensive.
As time went by, however, the Vulcan had come to realize that all of those attributes combined to make Kirk the most effective commander that he had ever known. Spock grew to respect him, though many times he did not agree with him. And Kirk, he believed, had come to understand him better than anyone else in the universe.
Lieutenant Uhura had told him once that Kirk was the closest thing he had to a friend. Though he had dismissed the comment at the time, she had been correct. James Kirk was, indeed, his friend, something he had never really had before.
A successor could be found to assume command of the Enterprise, if not an equal replacement. But if Kirk were to die, that friendship would die with him. And Spock would mourn that loss for the rest of his life. There could be no replacement for that, not even a successor. Spock knew with certainty that he would never share that relationship with anyone again.
Spock began to consider the possibility of resigning his commission with Starfleet. It would be difficult for him to continue to serve on a ship full of humans after the loss of this particular one.
Would that be considered a concession that he did, indeed, react to his emotions despite his constant assurances to the contrary? Perhaps. But perhaps it no longer mattered.
They were scheduled to arrive at Starbase Eleven in less than a day. Considering Admiral Fitzpatrick's state of mind during their last conversation, the decision might well be made for him.
He decided at that moment that, no matter what the Admiral's decision, he would not attempt to fight it. If Kirk should die, it would make little difference to Spock if he were court martialed. And if he should live, he would have quite enough on his mind without the added burden of a battle with Starfleet Command.
Spock rose from his chair and gazed into the Captain's sleeping face.
"Rest well, my friend," he whispered. Then, without a backward glance, he strode through the doors into the corridor.