The Vulcan long-range shuttle was well equipped with communications equipment. With very little coaxing Spock was able to open and monitor the Starfleet communication channel to Enterprise.
He quickly triangulated her location and set an intercept course based on her sublight speed and presumed course heading.
He left the comm channel open, monitoring their progress as he perused the schematics of the redesign. Much of the information was classified, but enough of the changes had been recommendations he himself had contributed to the redesign process that he was able to deduce what changes were not available in the public record. Of course the bill of materials listing from the contractors was useful as well.
He listened intently to the open communications channel as Enterprise reported they were underway.
Then as the transmission came in from Epsilon 9 he stopped his study of Engineering suppliers and watched with the crew of Enterprise.
The personnel on the station were panicked. Their shouts drowned out the quiet sounds of the computers and monitors in their monitoring center. It was chaotic and difficult to follow for a moment, but then there was a sensation he had felt earlier.
A change in the pitch of the 'tone'. A shudder or ripple. It was difficult to describe. But there was a momentary change in the sensation of the tone that had brought him so much peace. Then Epsilon 9 began to disintegrate.
For an instant he felt the terror of the hundreds of beings on the station. Then there was stillness, peace.
He listened intently to the mental signal, searching for some change some sign of malevolence.
All he could hear was logic and stillness.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Spock stepped off the shuttlecraft and into the corridor. He did not immediately recognize Checkov. The young man seemed to have aged 10 years.
"Permission to come aboard, sir." He stated.
It was a formality. They would not refuse him. He was Spock.
He paused for an instant waiting for the traditional response and his mind reflected back on every memory of the man checking for emotional weakness in his hard won Kolinahr disciplines.
Ensign Checkov, now Lt. Checkov. Pavel Adreivich Checkov, the helmsman. He had manned both helm and weapons on their first mission.
Spock remembered in a flash of images all that he knew of the young man. It took the barest of efforts. The mission in which Checkov had been a terrified youth watching the command crew age unnaturally before his eyes. He had an indefatigable pride in his Russian heritage and a penchant for humorous stories. There were images, flashes, pictures of the past, nothing more.
"Granted sir, granted!" Checkov responded with some glee.
Spock found with a small start that he could not bear to see the joy there in this man's eyes. He fairly bubbled with emotion radiating surprise and happiness like sunshine.
Spock turned away from him and headed out the door.
He did not need a guide, in fact preferred to go alone. He had studied the new schematics of Enterprise. He knew how to get to the bridge.
Once in the corridor however he turned right instead of left and walked purposefully to the nearest conference room.
It was small and unoccupied. The newly installed location indicators on every public meeting area revealed occupancy status as well as their location designation. This room was blessedly vacant.
He was very humanly grateful for the moment alone. It only took a moment. He drew in a deep breath centering himself. He was unaccustomed to being in the presence of so many emotional beings.
Illogically, he had forgotten how hard his first weeks at Starfleet Academy had been in his youth. So many emotions flying, so much illogic, so much unnecessary 'courtesy' and 'protocol'. It was difficult to remain centered.
However, he had studied with the masters of Kolinahr.
The moment passed and his shields were strengthened.
He was ready.
It only took a moment for him to reach the turbolift and request the bridge.
He entered the bridge his mind was focused and clear, the gentle hum of pure logic in his subconscious mind. He felt fully centered and balanced and yet there was an eagerness that he could not pinpoint. It was much like the sensation he had experience the first time he had stepped onto Enterprise years before. The knowledge that he was about to embark on an experience that would change him forever. If he were human he would have said it was his destiny.
Uhura gasped unbelieving and rose from her communications station.
Spock reflected in the flicker of an instant on the memories of her in this place. They came as two-dimensional images on a screen, flat, colorless. They existed, nothing more. Uhura opening a channel to the Klingons. Uhura reporting on casualties. Uhura singing in the rec room. He felt nothing. She was who she was, nothing more.
Sulu turned in response and was likewise taken aback, "Why it's Mister-"
Memories of Sulu flashed before Spock's eyes as well. Sulu firing ship's phasers, wielding a sword, waving a tricorder. Nothing more.
"Spock!" The captain rose immediately, a look of profound joy spread quickly across his face at the sight of his old friend.
"Spock." Jim had to say his name again as if it somehow validated his presence. It somehow made it all right again. He sighed contentedly. His ship was whole again. It would be all right now.
Spock faced Kirk and felt nothing.
There was only the sound of pure logic.
He turned passionlessly to First Officer Decker. "Commander, if I may."
The younger man seemed confused for a moment. Then catching the Vulcan's intentional gaze he replied with a quick "Oh-" and rose to allow the legendary presence access to the science station.
Spock grazed past Decker without even the smallest of acknowledgments of his presence.
He ran his fingers over the new station controls with ease. The time in the shuttle memorizing the new specifications had been well spent.
He reported briefly, "I have been monitoring your communications with Starfleet Command, Captain and I am aware of your design difficulties." He lifted his gaze to meet the hazel eyes of Captain James T. Kirk.
For a fraction of a moment the memories came. Triskelion, Iotia, Deneb, Vulcan, Babel, Earth.
Missions, moments, memories all compressed into flat facts. He felt nothing.
"I offer my services as Science Officer." He turned his gaze to Decker as the barest of courtesies, "with all due respect Commander."
The captain appeared stunned by the line of conversation, but his irascible joy remained, "If our Exec has no objections?"
Decker answered with relief almost too quickly, "Of course not I'm well aware of Mr. Spock's qualifications."
"Mr. Checkov, log Mr. Spock's Starfleet commission as reactivated. Log him as Science officer. Both effective immediately."
The turbolift doors opened and Doctors McCoy and Chapel entered.
Chapel exclaimed, "Mr. Spock!"
"Why so help me I'm actually pleased to see you." McCoy beamed.
Spock turned to speak to the captain and then he saw her.
Thinner than he remembered, her hair was brown not blonde, but it was her.
Christine Chapel.
He faltered.
For the barest of moments the sound of the hum of peace had been supplanted by the sound of her voice.
It was the voice of The Memory.
The memory of the end.
The end of control.
No.
He would not allow it. A single beat of his heart later control returned.
He turned to leave. He would not continue this deplorable loss of control. He must leave the bridge immediately.
He moved silently to the turbolift door, but before it could respond Uhura was there at his elbow. Her kindness absolutely radiating from her like the heat of the sun.
"It's how we all feel, Mr. Spock."
He turned away.
"Captain. With your permission I will now discuss these fuel equations with the engineer." He lowered his eyes. He would not look at Her there just in his peripheral view. Standing so controlled and balanced at McCoy's side.
He would not allow this outburst to continue. He turned to leave. But the captain's voice, his friend's voice, a voice from a lifetime he had long since relinquished caught him mid step.
"Mr. Spock?"
Spock paused. It was an involuntary action. He had been caught mid thought, mid step by the acidic tone of Kirk's voice.
"Welcome aboard."
The words were shot at him out of anger and hurt. Kirk was angry at him. It was not logical, but he was.
There was no remedy for it. Without a backward glance he exited the bridge.
Kirk and McCoy exchanged glances as if to say 'What the hell was that?'.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
As Spock approached the door to the captain's office he steeled himself for the ordeal he was facing.
Two and half years had passed. Jim Kirk had been a friend to him and would likely expect the renewal of such a relationship. It would be difficult to convey the futility of such a friendship now. Spock could not be a friend. It was not a risk he was willing to take. He could never again allow those feelings to erode his control.
He stepped stiffly into the Captain's office and met his eyes with no hint of emotion. "Science Officer Spock reporting as ordered, Captain."
"Please, sit down." The captain gestured offhandedly to a nearby couch.
Spock was not surprised to see Dr. McCoy. He leaned casually against a wall and immediately attempted to provoke him into an emotional altercation, "Well, Mr. Spock you haven't changed a bit. You're just as warm and sociable as ever."
Spock raised an eyebrow emulating his mentor T'Lar. "Nor have you Doctor as your continued predilection for irrelevancy demonstrates."
"Gentlemen." Kirk interjected waving the men to nearby seats. He turned to Spock and spoke familiarly "At last report you were on Vulcan. Apparently to stay."
McCoy added, "Yes you were undergoing the Kolineer discipline."
"Sit down." Kirk's face flushed slightly with irritation.
Spock searched his memory briefly trying to remember if he had ever displayed such an emotional response toward Spock before. He abruptly stopped that train of thought, as it was non-productive. He turned to the doctor. "If you are referring to the Kolinahr Doctor, you are correct."
"Well however it's pronounced, Mr. Spock. It's the Vulcan ritual that's supposed to purge all remaining emotions." McCoy seemed to be annoyed with him as well.
The captain fairly shook with irritation now. It appeared he was in need of some Vulcan control at this moment as well. "The Kolinahr is also a discipline you broke to join us. Will you please sit down!" He gestured angrily at the chair as if his hand motions could bend the Vulcan to his will.
Spock regarded him for a long moment. He did not wish to discuss his motives with these men, but it was logical that they should know as much as necessary about it. The captain was after all, responsible for the lives of everyone on board. Spock made a decision.
He moved to the chair with slow grace and sat perfectly erect. He wanted them to understand that this was his decision. He was in control. "On Vulcan I began sensing a consciousness from a source more powerful than I have ever encountered. Thought patterns of exactingly perfect order. I believe they emanate from the intruder. I believe it may hold my answers."
McCoy chuckled darkly, "Well isn't it lucky for you that we just happen to be heading your way?"
"Bones!" the captain waved a hand at the doctor. He latched on to the moment. Spock saw the hope in his eyes. Hope for more. "We need him. I need him."
"Then my presence is to our mutual advantage." He would not allow this man to draw him in. He kept his gaze even, cold. He watched the flicker in his friend's eyes die.
The captain set his jaw, "Any thought patterns that you might sense, whether they appear to effect you personally or not I expect you to immediately report them."
"Of course, Captain. Is there anything else?"
"No." he answered by way of a dismissal.
Spock rose from his chair and without hesitation or second thought exited the room and headed to engineering.