Kirk didn't remember much after the warehouse raid. He woke up in pitch blackness, but then again, it was always black in the cavern unless a lantern was burning. He assumed that's where he was, the place Teah called home and had brought him that first night when she found him and tried to steal his boots. He listened - there was no sound of Teah's soft breathing; she'd gone out again.
When she was gone, searching for food or looking for this K'Tal person, his former torturer and resident Klingon yes-man to Baruk, he felt the pressure in his mind more acutely. As long as Teah was nearby, he could latch on to something she called 'peace.' It was a lifeline of sorts, but it had no real foundation, based solely on his need. He didn't fully understand it, but he knew it wasn't the same as it was with...
With...
"Damn!" He smacked his fist down against the cavern floor, angry that he could never remember. He tried so hard to think past that black wall - to push it away or knock it down - but it seemed impenetrable.
Where was Teah? She had been gone a long time since he'd awakened. Who knew how long she'd been gone before that? Kirk wondered what would happen if she ever did confront K'Tal. Could she get away from him before he cut her down with that disrupter of his? Kirk had wanted to stop her from going on these forays, but the pain in his chest and the ever-present weakness and dizziness prevented him from doing anything but warn her.
A few yards away, something fell over, crashing to the floor. The sound echoed all over the cavern.
"Who's there?" The back of Kirk's neck began to tingle.
Hold on, Jim. Probably rats.
He picked up a few loose stones and sent them hurtling in the direction of the crash, expecting to hear squeals and scampering of little rodent feet. Instead he heard a guttural yelp and a Klingonese curse, and then he was blinded by the beam of a laser torch. He couldn't see who held it, but he knew. Teah had gone out to find K'Tal; K'Tal instead had found him.
Fear drove Kirk to his feet, resignation brought him to a crouch. They would not have him this time. He would not go back to that room. He would die before he would go back. He would make them kill him.
The light from K'Tal's torch revealed Baruk skulking behind him, and as they approached Kirk, he sensed the uncontrolled signals in his brain being triggered. A trembling weakness, beginning in his knees and inching upward through his frame, made it an agony of effort just to remain upright. If only he weren't alone. If only he could know that what was happening to him had meaning of some kind...
...meaning, and beauty...
Those words, where had he heard them before? They were... Spock had said them once. He was talking about how diversity...
Spock!!
Jim saw his friend standing over his console on the bridge. He saw him again in a mind link with Scotty. And again hanging foolishly from a tree limb, another time playing the lyrette, or moving a chess piece. The relief and release of the recalled memories of his closest friend melted away the last of Kirk's reserves, and he sank to his knees in the dust. The end was coming, but he didn't much care, now. He knew who he was, and what he must do. Whether he had the strength to do it was irrelevant. Kirk was smiling as the torch came up to within inches of his face.
"Hello, Finnegan. What brings you to this neck of the woods?"
"Unfinished business, Jim-boy, unfinished business. K'Tal, you know what to do."
Kirk felt his body grow rigid in the intense field of the disrupter before sensation began to fade. Goodbye, Spock, he sighed, as he passed into nothingness.
Spock closed his communicator, having briefed Sulu and Uhura on their findings and ordering the beamdown of two additional security people. The whine of the transporter beam followed and Lt. Rivers was soon filling the men in. Teah sat nearby, watching Scotty's every move. Spock suspected she was telepathic; certain emanations, somewhat undisciplined, touched him like soft waves at low tide. Whether she was consciously shielding was not discernable, but he could not help but think her ability, mastered, would equal any Vulcan's. He began to wonder about her mother's heritage. Salah. That thought was so open he was surprised McCoy didn't pick up on it, or Mr. Scott, who was often holding her hand. But no, they were human, after all.
Abruptly, as Spock pondered these ideas, he distinctly felt a warmth, a presence in that certain area of his mind which had remained cold and closed for some time.
It was the link.
Frustratingly, the panic was back, too. Un-dealt with previously, it would continue to raise its head every time he was confronted with the possibility of re-establishing contact with Jim. As he struggled to master it, the warmth grew and brought with it the vision of a crooked smile and happiness. That was strange, though, because with the happiness was another certainty. Certainty of death.
"No!" Spock leapt to his feet. McCoy ran over to him, Scotty following.
Unnoticed, Teah sat unmoving, her eyes closed, her face a mask of pain.
"Spock, what is it?"
The science officer reeled and would have fallen if McCoy hadn't grabbed him.
"Mr. Spock, you look like death warmed over. What's the matter, man?"
"I was... "Spock swallowed, straightened. "I believe I have made contact with the captain."
"Well, where is he? Is he all right?"
Spock's eyes narrowed. He didn't answer the doctor, but walked over to Teah, still sitting with her eyes closed.
"Please show us the way, Teah."
"He won't be there."
"I know. But take us to where he was."
Teah stood up, carefully. She had felt Jim's pain, too, and with it, Spock's. If there had been any doubt left, this finished it. Jim needed his friends, and she was going to do everything she could to help them find him. She looked shyly at the engineer. "Will you come with me?"
"Try and keep me away," he answered, and offered her his hand. She accepted without hesitation, and started out. McCoy again brought up the rear and his trained eye was quick to pick out the unadulterated tension in Spock's blue-clad shoulders. In another officer he knew, this would have been the first sign of a pounding headache, but if Vulcans ever got headaches, they never told anyone about them. "Probably pretend they don't exist," muttered the physician as they scrambled toward the caverns.
The first sensation to come back was hearing. He listened with interest to K'Tal's labored breathing, to Finnegan's ceaseless dialogue, and the echoing clatter of feet on the cavern floor. Obviously they were taking him somewhere.
Slowly and less pleasantly, feeling returned, and he found himself flung over K'Tal's shoulder like a sack of meal, arms and legs trussed like game. He hoped this trip wouldn't be too long - it was difficult enough to breathe without a Klingon shoulder in his gut.
As far as sight was concerned, Kirk couldn't be sure - they could still be too far in the cave to perceive daylight, or he could be suffering from temporary blindness due to the disrupter. One thing was certain, however, and it cheered him almost as much as his restored memory - the blinding light of the torch had not caused the violent reactions he rather expected due to prior experience. He realized that over the last two or three days, the flashbacks were happening less and were of shorter duration. This weakness was a problem, though, although right now it was the least of many. He chuckled, wondering just how he would get himself out of this one, weakness or not.
The sound of his wry amusement did not go unnoticed.
"Well now, you're awake, Captain! This is marvelous! I see you still know how to laugh at yourself, though what good it will do you now is beyond me."
"Why don't you... cut the Shakespeare, Finnegan? I'm afraid you're... wasting your talents... on me."
Conversation from an upside down position was proving to be difficult.
A faint brightness filtered into the corridor, dust motes becoming particles of light like fireflies in the gloom.
"Put him down, K'Tal, and guard the entrance. Jim and I have something to discuss."
"This is where you live?" McCoy asked incredulously, noting the crates and bracken beds on the dirt floor.
Teah nodded, looking around in the glow of the security team's torches. "He's gone. I knew he would be."
"We'll find him, Lass. We haven't come this far to give up now, have we?" Scotty reassured her, resting his hand on her tousled head.
"Is there another way out of this cavern, Teah?" Spock asked the girl.
"Yes, through there; you have to crawl a little, but then it opens up and eventually comes out north of here. You make noise, though - no way to sneak up on anyone because of the crawling."
"Can you show us how to get to the other opening, Miss?" Rivers asked.
Teah looked at Scotty, who nodded approval. "They're here to help, too. It's all right."
As the girl gave the security team directions, Spock spotted something thrown into a corner, and went over to examine it more closely. McCoy watched curiously, then with chagrin, as Spock lifted a torn, bloodied, and burned gold command shirt from the dirt. He clenched it in his fist for a moment, then handed it over to McCoy.
"You have all your medical supplies with you, of course," he said quietly, looking past McCoy at the far wall.
"Nothing but the best, Spock." McCoy started to reach out, to touch the Vulcan, then stopped himself. No sense making things any harder for the science officer. He tweaked Spock's sleeve instead. "C'mon. Let's go get our captain."
McCoy, Spock and Teah started out after the security team, leaving Dahmer at the south entrance and calling for reinforcements. No one was going to get out that way.
And if Spock and McCoy had anything to do with it, no one was going to get out the other side either.
Not without dealing with them, first.
The burly Klingon unloaded Kirk on the floor, dropping him from a height of four feet or more. Stunned, Kirk didn't move immediately, until Finnegan hauled him up roughly and pushed him against the wall. Finnegan stood looking at his old shipmate for a few moments, then sat down nearby, fingering his disrupter possessively. K'Tal went outside.
"I assume you know why I brought you here." Kirk grinned wryly in response, drawing surprise and then anger across the Irishman's meaty features. "You find me amusing, do you?" All trace of Irish or Edwardian accents was gone. "I guess you found it amusing when a third of Farragut's crew died on that God-forsaken planet, too?"
The amusement faded from Kirk's eyes. "So, that's what this is all about."
Kirk gazed past Finnegan, his thoughts going back to that day when he had stood, phaser drawn, and watched helplessly as the malevolent cloud creature sucked the living red corpuscles from his fellow crew members, moving randomly from group to group, individual to individual, heedless of screams and phaser fire. Captain Garrovick was in one of those groups, phaser drawn, shouting orders.
Kirk's breathing became more labored as he relived the past, oblivious of his bound limbs, the cavern or Finnegan.
Lt. James T. Kirk ran toward Captain Garrovick, firing at the creature, but too late. The cloud descended on the group and then turned on Kirk. As his consciousness faded, he saw Finnegan in the distance, aiming his phaser...
"No! What are you doing?" Kirk watched in horror as Finnegan fired upon a crew member, a yeoman, someone they both knew, had talked to, been friends with... Margaret O'Shea, as full-blooded an Irishwoman as anyone would have cared to meet. Soft, green eyes and a heavy mass of auburn hair, saved from total unruliness by a thick braid. Her laughter was contagious, and her bantering a tonic to an overworked, conscientious young lieutenant. Oh, Jim had liked her, like her a lot.
And so did Finnegan.
After the academy days, Finnegan and Kirk, finding themselves serving on the same ship, struck an uneasy truce. Jim, although no longer an ensign, was only a Lieutenant J.G., while Finnegan had risen quickly in the ranks to full Lieutenant. Rank is rank, no matter what. They managed to avoid each other until Margaret came along.
Finnegan began to nourish his faded accent to impress the girl, and she was charmed, to Kirk's disgust. An open rivalry became the subject of much off-duty conversation and some quiet betting until a firm reprimand came from the bridge. Thereafter Kirk conceded, his career - as always - taking precedence over personal feelings. Finnegan preened and strutted in his 'victory,' so much so that Jim was almost embarrassed for him.
Then there was the fateful shore leave. A brief stop, a quiet, unpopulated planet. A third of the crew beamed down, most of them never to return. After it was over, the creature inexplicably gone, the debriefing began. Kirk and two others were witness to the cold-blooded act Finnegan had committed to decoy the creature away from himself. Margaret, stunned, laid in its path and became the target in Finnegan's place. There was a subsequent court-martial, as soon as the witnesses had recovered enough to testify, and Finnegan was dishonorably discharged and consigned to the penal colony on Tantalus V. It was some months later that Kirk learned of the shuttle accident which left the pilot and several passengers dead and Finnegan missing.
Kirk came back to the present and glared at Finnegan. "All right, what do you want? You've gone to a great deal of trouble to get me here, and I don't think it's to relive old memories."
"No, Jim-boy, it's to set the record straight once and for all. You must pay for the crimes you have committed."
"Crimes!? What... " Jim's grimaced with pain, the tightness in his chest gripping him like a vise. "What crimes? What are you talking about, Finnegan? Margaret was... "
"Don't you say her name to me!" screamed the former lieutenant, his face flaming in anger. It's because of you Margaret is dead. Sweet Maggie O'Shea... She was as pretty as a shamrock, as sweet as the isle flowers, she was..." Finnegan stopped, his eyes downcast and his voice thick.
Kirk's eyes widened in understanding as he heard his old shipmate ramble on. If he could keep him talking, he might be able to do something with the sharp outcropping of rough sapphire just behind his bound hands. "You loved her," he encouraged.
"Oh, that I did, Jim-boy. I loved her enough to want to marry her. I was going to ask her, too, on the shore leave. It was a perfect opportunity - plenty of privacy, plenty of time." Finnegan got up and began to pace, Kirk's efforts to cut his bonds unnoticed. "But then that - Thing came. It was so fast, so fast! It was mowin' down everything in sight! I looked for Margaret. I would have protected her, shielded her, but what did she do? Where did she go?" Finnegan turned hate-filled eyes fully on Kirk. Jim felt the cord give way and he held his breath in anticipation. "She ran to you. You!! A puny plebe!"
"I was hardly a plebe, Finnegan," Kirk replied, despite himself.
"Shut up! You were always the plebe. The smart up-and-coming young midshipman! They said you were going places. I'm sick of always hearing about James Tiberius Kirk this and James Tiberius Kirk that! You're just a plebe!"
"Finnegan, it's not like you didn't have every chance I did. You outranked me ..."
"But you were in the elite group. The pompous gold-braiders - captaincy candidates - royal command. Margaret preferred you, ran to you for protection ..."
"No, Finnegan, you're wrong." Jim dropped the rope and gathered his bound feet under him as best he could, steeling himself. "Think, man! Margaret was running away from you, maybe, but she wasn't running toward me. She was running with me, trying to get to Captain Garrovick. We were both trying to protect the captain."
"Liar! It's all lies! I had to keep her from doing something foolish, you see. You could never love her - you could never love anyone except your commission. I saw that I was losing her; I had to stop her - I had to!. But it was because of you," he cried, hysterically, disrupter aimed at Kirk's head. "You killed her, as surely as if you had pulled the trigger yourself!"
In the split second it took for Finnegan to step toward Kirk and squeeze off a shot, the captain had leaped for his throat. Kirk missed the mark, the shot going wild, but he managed to knock the Irishman down before rolling to his knees behind a small outcrop of rock. He glanced toward the entrance, his view partially blocked by jumbled rock, but he could discern the sounds of a scuffle taking place in that vicinity. He couldn't count on any help from there, but at least K'Tal was otherwise occupied...
Rock chips flew in his face as Finnegan's disrupter beam struck a vein of sapphire only centimeters away. Kirk dove into a forward tumble, throwing himself under a low overhang of wall, trying to buy a few seconds to untie his feet. It was cramped work, and he could hear his old enemy moving around, knowing that any second Finnegan would see him, take aim... Another shot blast hit the floor just in front of him, residual beam numbing his arms and hands. He would never get his bonds loose now.
He didn't want to die like this, hiding under a rock...
"Finnegan, I'm coming out."
Finnegan gestured comically, enjoying Kirk's predicament. "By all means, Captain Nobody. Come out and face the consequences."
Kirk struggled from under the overhang and remained on his knees in front of Finnegan, the lack of circulation in his legs making it impossible to stand. Managing only shallow breaths, he fought against the blackness playing with his vision.
"You are without a father, Jim," began the president, matter-of-factly, "and your older brother - Sam, was it? Your older brother passed the family name on to his son, who yet lives. You, therefore, according to the laws on Echthra, are cast out. You are a No-Name, and have no rights here. Therefore, by the authority vested in me as President of Echthra, I condemn you to death for the willful murder of Margaret O'Shea and the neglect of duty toward Captain Garrovick. Have you any last words before sentence is carried out?"
All but passing out, Kirk was vaguely aware that the tussle at the entrance had ceased, but he was too concerned with what Finnegan had just said to think about that right now.
"Yes," He replied. Struggling to attention, awkward at best in a kneeling position, Kirk answered: "To the charge of murder, I plead innocent." Finnegan sneered, but Kirk continued: "But as to the charge of neglect of duty I must plead... guilty."
Finnegan nodded with satisfaction, then raised the disrupter, taking careful aim. Kirk remained at attention and waited. He had done all he could do, and now this was all that remained. Only a moment or two, and then...
"Hold it right there, Baruk. I've got my sights on you and I'll drop you flat if you so much as blink!"
"You would be well-advised to obey Mr. Scott, Baruk. I believe you will agree that you are outnumbered."
Spock and Scotty came into the room, flanking Kirk.
Three security men moved behind Finnegan, phasers drawn.
"Perhaps I'm outnumbered, Vulcan," growled the Irishman, "but I'm not outdone!" Finnegan burst into a peal of laughter Jim remembered all too well and, before anyone could move, turned the disrupter, set at maximum, upon himself.
The group of men stared at the empty, smoking air before them for a minute, stunned. Then McCoy was at Kirk's bonds, fussing over the tight knots. Kirk managed to smile at his CMO before his vision faded to black.
Light slowly encroached on Kirk's consciousness. He felt hands upon him, and heard Scotty's voice not far away. He opened his eyes, blinking against the brightness of day, and tried to sit up.
McCoy leaned into view, placing hands on his shoulders to restrain him. "Jim, don't try to move. I'm arranging for a shuttle to pick you up. Just lay quietly, now."
"What's wrong with me?" he asked, feeling the familiar tightening in his chest, the weakness and painful breathing.
"I've got a list, but my main concern is your heart. The mitral valve has been damaged and your heart is having a hard time maintaining circulation. Frankly, Jim, it's a wonder you're still alive."
"K'Tal... "
"Gone. We beamed him and the security team back to the Enterprise."
"Where's Spock?"
"Mr. Spock went along to make sure K'Tal found a proper home in the brig; he'll be back soon."
Kirk's face was sober as he considered K'Tal's fate. After a brief hearing he would, under terms of the Organian Peace Treaty, be sent back to Klinzhai, where he would face his own people's brand of justice for charges known only to them.
Well, whatever they dished out wouldn't be enough. The captain had many reasons to hate the Klingon, not the least of which was his suspicion that he was Teah's father, yet had abandoned her like so many other irresponsibles had done on this planet. Teah...
Kirk grabbed McCoy's sleeve. "Bones, there's a young girl around here. We have to find her; she fed me, gave me a place to stay... "
"It's okay, Jim, she's right over there," McCoy swung his arm behind him. Kirk could see Teah sitting on a rock, talking seriously to Mr. Scott. "She brought us to you."
"She did?" Kirk smiled weakly and coughed. Scott and Teah looked over and saw that he was awake, and hurried over. Scott had a hand on Teah's shoulder. Kirk, despite his discomfort, was amused by this, and his grin grew wider.
"Captain!" boomed the engineer's voice. "It's good to see you, Sir. We thought you might - well, it was touch 'n go there for awhile." Scotty frowned at Kirk's wasted condition and evident pain, and turned to McCoy. "The shuttle's on it's way, Doctor."
There was a shrill power surge nearby and Spock materialized in its midst. He strode quickly to Kirk's side, darting a look at McCoy. McCoy nodded reassurance, maintaining a constant tricorder reading on the captain.
Teah, who had stood quietly beside the Scotsman, stared at Kirk for a long time, thinking that he seemed different somehow. Then she realized what it was. Jim had finally found his place, what he had been looking for all along, and it was here among his friends.
Kirk had glanced at her several times since she had come over to where he lay, but was waiting for her to speak first. Finally, seeing that her tongue was tied, he spoke to her. "Hello, Teah."
She cocked her head to the side, looking him over once more, and crossed her arms. "How's your head?" she asked, in all seriousness.
Kirk almost choked. McCoy let a small smile escape and Spock looked at the child curiously.
"My head's fine, Teah," Kirk responded. "I can remember everything now, especially these gentlemen here. Have they been taking good care of you?"
"Yes. Dr. McCoy calls me Miss Teah. Mr. Spock touches my mind like Salah did. And Mr. Montgomery... " She looked up at the Scotsman, whose hand she was holding. "He says we're cast in the same mold."
At Kirk' quizzical look, Scotty explained how he and Teah had come to meet and understand one another. He would have launched into a full history of happenings since the captain disappeared had the shuttle not arrived, kicking up dust and curtailing conversation.
"Let's get you aboard, Jim." Despite Kirk's protests, the medical team placed him on a stretcher and bore him into the shuttle. Spock and McCoy followed them in; Teah was left standing with the engineer, staring at the craft. Slowly, she let go the man's hand and took a step back.
"What's wrong, Lass?"
"It's time for you to... to go back... " Teah bit her lip, blinking hard against the tears.
"Aye, it is." Scott stepped toward her, cradled a hand against the side of her head. "And you're goin' with us."
Teah's eyes lit up with surprise and dawning hope. She looked at the shuttle, then back at the engineer. Then, for the first time since her mother died, she smiled. She wrapped her arms around the Scotsman's waist and hugged as hard as she dared, not wanting to hurt him. He hugged her back, and accompanied her to the shuttle.
Teah was never more glad to leave Echthra behind.
"Personal log: It's been two weeks since our departure from Echthra, and I'm looking forward to regular duty beginning tomorrow. Bones has finally certified me fit for duty - he had no choice if he wanted to get me out of his hair. After surgery, my recuperation has been steady. The lingering drug-induced symptoms have all but disappeared although, like Spock, I am somewhat concerned about how long this stuff remains in the system.
"Dr. M'Benga and his research team have determined that the drug is an herb, a harmless food supplement until a hormone called mytocin is introduced. This acts as a catalyst, causing a chemical reaction and the resulting hallucinogen. Ethanol, taken with the drug, speeds and enhances the effect. I will never live down the fact that I drank three glasses of wine as opposed to McCoy's one.
"Actually, I believe he is enjoying lording his righteous abstinence over me."
The Captain stopped dictating, his thoughts going to McCoy and the others who had played a part in recent happenings. Kirk had had several opportunities to talk to Spock about the drug-induced conditions the three men had experienced. Spock, always looking for something to be gained from any experience, told Jim how he was able to begin dealing with the emotions he had evinced at the onset of the poisoning and again when he was forced to come out of the healing trance too soon. He did not expound on these emotions specifically; Jim respected his privacy, but somehow he knew that since Spock was addressing these difficulties he should soon become the cheerful Vulcan they all knew and loved.
At least Spock was addressing his problems. Kirk, on the other hand, knew that sooner or later he was going to have to deal with the fact that he had delayed firing at the cloud creature years ago, and still had grave doubts about failing in the line of duty. Finnegan had brought it up again, a shadow from long ago,
but he wasn't ready to put it to rest. Not yet.
Kirk blinked hard and turned his thoughts to Mr. Scott. Due to Kirk's surgery and recovery Scotty had not had much opportunity to speak to the captain since they had left Echthra, but he had brought Teah with him the times when McCoy allowed Jim visiting privileges. Teah was shy with Kirk, seeing a different man than the boy-like Jim she had known on Echthra, but she soon grew easy around him, especially with Scott's encouragement. Kirk could see that a very close bond was forming between the two, and saw a peace in Scotty's eyes that had not been there before.
He continued his log entry:
"Mr. Scott has taken a young girl from Echthra under his wing. Although it is not exactly regulation, I have made an exception in this case. Teah is of Romulan and Klingon ancestry; her Rihannsu family is deceased and she therefore has no status there. Her father is consigned to Klinzhai to face uncertain charges and will probably be executed, if for no other reason than because he was shipped back in disgrace from the Federation. Naturally, Teah has no klan status there, either. However, Mr. Spock has turned up computer records proving Teah was born on Echthra, a Federation colony, and therefore has automatic citizenship in the United Federation of Planets. With Scotty's encouragement and advice, she has chosen Earth as her adopted home planet and all the legal paperwork has been initiated. I think Scotty's in for quite a busy shore leave.
"Teah was instrumental in my survival on Echthra and I could not have left her on that God-forsaken planet for any reason. Besides, if I had, I would have had small Scottish mutiny on my hands. I am pleased, as stated in the ship's log, that the UFP is looking into the matter of government and social policy on Echthra, and that immediate steps are being taken to round up the No-Names and give them care and shelter until things can be worked out for them.
"My only remaining concern is for my friend, Leonard McCoy. Although he has made an attempt to hide it, he's unusually reserved and quiet. I've also observed a number of occasions when Mr. Spock has openly set himself up for a proper reaming out only to have Bones turn away from the challenge. I would have approached McCoy before now but for the fact that I've felt the timing was wrong. Spock confirmed it this afternoon when he confided in me that he believes the problem is between them and he would talk to Bones tonight. I pray they will help each other. I miss their bickering and sniping more than I realized!"
Kirk closed his entry and yawned widely as he played it back, something he often did before turning in. As he listened, his mind still going over recent events, he lay his head down on his folded arms. The sound of his own voice receded in the background as he was once again on a breezy ridge looking up at the stars glimmering across a velvet night. The captain smiled in his sleep.
"Come in," Spock heard the doctor say from the inner room. The door slid open and Spock walked into McCoy's office.
"Am I interrupting you, Doctor?" Spock asked, observing the mounds of work piled upon the physician's desk and surrounding work area.
McCoy got up and cleared a jumble of flimsies and computer disks from a chair and motioned for Spock to sit. "You're giving me a welcome break, Spock. My eyes were starting to cross from looking at the monitor for so long."
Spock leaned over to see what was on the computer screen. One eyebrow arched in comprehension. "Ah, the hallucinogen. I understand you have been working with Dr. M'Benga to better understand its effects."
"Yes," said McCoy, absently. "It's xenobiological reaction is pretty interesting. One man's poison is another man's cure - that sort of thing." The doctor's voice trailed off and he stared at the wall for a moment before he caught himself. "Sorry. Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?" He leaned back in his chair and gave the first officer his full attention.
"There was, and is, Doctor. Recently, I have observed a calmer demeanor, a more systematic attitude in you. You have been quiet and reserved; your research has been thorough and methodical. In short, you have been behaving most rationally."
"Well?"
"It is difficult for me to say this, Dr. McCoy. I wish... I would prefer..." Spock sighed audibly, surprising the doctor. "I liked the old Leonard McCoy better."
"Oh you did, did you?" McCoy's eyes narrowed. "Well, have you ever considered what I prefer?"
"Yes, and I believe that you have chosen to cut off part of yourself, to subdue a vital part of your human personae. To what purpose, Doctor?"
McCoy turned from the science officer and began straightening his desk. "I don't think that's any of your business, Spock." He was shocked when Spock grabbed his arm and swiveled the chair around to face him squarely.
"It is my business when this altered behavior has been caused, in part, by me."
McCoy's gaze was incredulous; Spock continued: "Doctor, do you recall when you and Mr. Scott helped me out of the healing trance, the feelings you were experiencing at that moment?"
How could he forget? Useless, foolish, afraid for Jim and for Spock, afraid of what he might say or do under the influence of the drug. But mostly he felt ...
"Responsible," said the science officer.
McCoy raised grief-stricken eyes to Spock's. He shook his head and tried to free himself of the Vulcan's grip. Spock had no intention of letting go.
"You felt responsible for not having taken Jim's uneasiness about Finnegan more seriously, about having been duped, drugged, and prevented from protecting your captain."
The doctor relaxed a little and smiled wryly. "And for not having protected his first officer."
Spock leaned back, releasing his hold on McCoy. "Indeed?"
"Spock, when I woke up in sickbay, I was so glad to be back in my right mind I forgot everything I'd been taught. I went jumping around like a chimpanzee and what happened? I wound up flat on my back again. You were in a coma and Jim was lost, and what good was I to either of you? My feeling certainly got the better of me, Spock, and the irony of it is, it was my emotions which triggered the hallucinogen. For Jim it was sensory stimuli, but for me it was my emotions - don't you see? If I had managed to keep better control of myself maybe ..."
McCoy was tense again, clasping his hands so tightly the knuckles were white.
"Doctor, the drug affected me in an identical way. Fortunately, I was able to use techniques learned on Vulcan to effectively 'shut myself off' until the effects had lessened. Leonard," he said, making the doctor look at him, "if I had not had that recourse, I would have been just as susceptible to emotion-triggered response as you were." He paused to let that sink in, then added: "It seems to me a heinous crime to crucify that which inestimably makes up the man known as Leonard H. McCoy."
"Wait a minute, now." McCoy could hardly believe his ears. "Are you telling me that I should embrace all the old emotions and go back to being what I was before?"
"Well, Doctor, perhaps not exactly. You could, conceivably, learn from the experience of leading a more logical existence, and emerge a more ..."
"A more what? Vulcanized human being? Spare me, Spock, but one is enough."
"One what, Doctor?" Spock set out the bait.
"Vulcanized. You heard me. You are the most Vulcanized human being I've ever known. You're the only Vulcanized human being I've ever known!"
"I see no reason why you should shout insults at me, Doctor. The fact that my mother happened to be born of human parents has no bearing whatso... "
"The hell it doesn't! You can't stand there and tell me ..." McCoy stopped in mid-rant, staring at Spock in open surprise. "Why, you pointed-eared, thick-headed ..." His eyes crinkled as he sized up the enigmatic man sitting coolly before him. Suddenly he smiled at his Vulcan friend, got up from his chair, and walked over to a cabinet. He poured two small brandies, holding one out to Spock. "Join me?"
"Thank you, Doctor. I assume you are well-acquainted with this brand of poison?"
"To those who have tasted the cup, Spock," toasted McCoy, raising his brandy in salute.
"To those who have survived, Doctor," returned Spock, and drained his glass.
Epilogue
"There it is, Lass, the yellow star in the right quadrant," said the engineer, pointing. "That's Sol, and as we come closer you'll see the third planet, all green and blue and white. That's earth. There's where I was born."
Teah drew her eyes from the view and looked at the Terran standing beside her on the observation deck. He was completely different from her physically: paler, taller (although that would change in a few years), male, and human. Human wasn't a dirty word by any means; Teah had grown up knowing several. But human, once just a xenobiological fact, was now something more. Human was this man who had befriended her, seen something in her that was also a part of him.
When Teah had taken Jim in to care for him, she found a relationship unlike any she had ever known. Through their friendship, she had learned that it was all right to care for others, to help them. Strange that now, with this other human, the roles had reversed, and he had taken her in, given her status again. More
importantly, however, he had given her his unconditional love.
Scotty felt her eyes upon him and smiled down at her, taking in the unadorned Starfleet uniform she wore, tall boots and all. Teah preferred the panted version of the uniform and looked tall and elegant in black. "What is it, Lass?" he asked, seeing a question in her look.
"I was just wondering why you would do all this for me. We never knew each other; we have no blood ties. We're not even the same race! Why do you even care?" A thought occurred to her; she expressed it though she was afraid of what the answer might be. "Is it because I took care of the captain?"
"No! Don't ever think that!" Scotty's hands closed on her shoulders, his eyes locking with hers. "Of course we're grateful you helped Jim, but ..."
Scotty turned away to look out the observation port again, his hands clasped tightly behind him. He searched for words to express emotions that he had locked away for so long, since the last surviving member of his family had passed away more than three years ago. Teah waited quietly, sensing his desire to talk and his hesitation to begin. Without thinking, she reached over and patted him, consolingly, on the arm.
The simple act of caring touched the Scotsman deeply, and there were tears in his eyes when he turned again to the girl.
"The people in the country where I was born and raised are a folk of great and deep feelings," he began, "and I suppose it'll always be that way. When I was a wee lad, Teah, my father and mother were killed in a freak accident in Glasgow, and I was taken in by grand-dad's oldest sister, Aunt Mattie. She was a tiny
woman, with sparkling blue eyes and a smile - such a smile! Sometimes, in the night, when it seemed all the beasties of my dreams were after me and I cried for my parents, she'd come into my room and hold me close until I was quiet."
Teah stared at the Scotsman round-eyed. She was remembering the times Salah would comfort her, wrap her arms around her...
Scotty hesitated. There was more he wanted to tell her, but he didn't know how this girl with a background so different from his would begin to comprehend. Still, he wanted her to understand him, how he felt about things, and why... "Aunt Mattie would read to me sometimes, Teah. Did your mother ever do that?"
Teah nodded, tears springing to her eyes. "When she could." She smiled through her tears. "What kind of books did your aunt read to you?"
"Oh, all kinds. History, fairy tales, family lore. I remember one book - a very old book, it's edges cracked and pages yellow with age. It had our family genealogy in the front of it, going back for generations. People getting married, getting born. Dying. But it was all part of life, you see. Part of me, even though my parents were dead. I still had a heritage. I remember there was one entry, about two hundred years old, where there was a son, a boy named Donald, who was adopted into the family. I'm a direct descendent of that boy."
"You mean...?" Teah shook her head incredulously.
"Aye, Lass. Technically, I'm not a Scott. But there was something that made it all right - made Donald as much a part of the family as if he'd been born into it, and makes me a Scott, too, even though my parents are dead."
"What?" Teah watched him intently, her breath short.
"It's explained in that old book I was tellin' you about, although I'm not good at quoting things. But what it said in a nutshell was that I didn't have to be afraid, even though my parents were gone. A 'slave to fear,' I believe it said. It talked about adoption, a spirit of adoption, which did away with all fear and such. And it gave me the right to say 'Father.'" Scotty turned to face Teah. "I was very small, Lass, and the truth of it didn't really come home to me... til I saw you."
"I - I'm not sure I understand."
"Don't feel bad," he laughed. "It's eluded me all these years; I don't know if I'll ever fully understand, but I do know this much: I saw you, I saw your need, and I saw your spirit. I couldn't leave you all alone, Lass. You touched something in me, girl, and it would have broken my heart to know you were there, a child fending for herself with no one caring."
"But why me? Why not any of the others? Or all of the others?"
"Scotty sighed. "Because I'm human, with all the faults of my race. Don't worry, all the No-Names are going to be taken care of, Lass, but my heart's not big enough to handle more than you in this lifetime." He dropped his eyes, sobered by the thought of all the other children on Echthra who needed someone just like him, saddened by the fact that he hadn't the heart of the Father of his ancestors.
Teah saw his sadness, her heart burning to make him smile again. She linked her arm through his and bent all her will at projecting her thoughts to him. "Ach, but you're learning, Lad, you're learning."
Scotty started, looked at his new daughter in puzzled surprise for a moment, then understanding and delight dawned on his features. "Thank you, Teah-lass. We both are, aren't we?"
The two people stood a long time, arm in arm, staring out at the view of one particular star and the future it held for both of them.
The End