Chapter 18
Spock stands between McCoy and the door, trapping him in his quarters. Though they are his own, it's unbearably hot. McCoy feels a rush of cold from Spock, as if emanating from his body, but draws back from him when he approaches. Suddenly the room seems unbounded by walls; it's now no more than an empty, dark space, with just enough light to illuminate the two figures.
McCoy reaches for both knife and agonizer, to find them missing. He panics as Spock takes hold of his shoulders, though he is gentle. "Where are you?" he asks, almost mournfully. He shakes McCoy's shoulders, a little rougher now, and repeats his pitiful question.
Since this is clearly the Spock of his own universe, McCoy understands what he means, and answers, "I'm with you!"
"No," Spock says. "That is not you. Where are you?" His grip on the human's shoulders tightens, forcing McCoy to struggle. The more he does, the tighter the grip gets. Those fingers sear into his flesh, and McCoy has the terrifying suspicion that they will meld right into his bone.
"Let go of me," McCoy mumbles, as he tries again to free himself. "Get away from me!"
Spock repeats his sad question, as McCoy tries to shove him away. When he doesn't budge, he punches him, over and over, but Spock makes no move, even as blood flows from his eye, his nose, his mouth. Brown-green bruises bloom on his face and neck.
Spock lets go of McCoy's shoulders, only to pull him close against himself in a stifling embrace. McCoy squirms, even tries to bite him, but cannot break free. The sharp, coppery odor of Spock's blood makes him gag, and he feels himself becoming drenched in it…
McCoy woke up screaming. He clawed at himself, trying to scrape off the blood, until he realized it'd been a dream. Even so, he shuddered and held his head in his hands until he was ready to slink out of bed.
Loneliness pricked his thoughts as he crept into the bathroom. Waking up in his own quarters alone was not something he was used to. There were advantages to that, of course. But he didn't feel exactly safe and secure when even in dreams he had to fight for his life.
If Spock had been lying beside him just now, he might have thrown a comforting arm around McCoy, if only to get back to sleep himself. Maybe that touch of domesticity wasn't worth the drama of the rest of their day, but McCoy missed it all the same.
/
A Vulcan can go about two weeks straight without sleep without a major loss of cognitive abilities. But Spock was already drained, after just one sleepless night. It was even harder to feel as though he were fighting against himself in this endeavor; it was becoming wearisome to keep pushing down the pessimistic protests from the back of his mind. Even with Scotty's help, something he'd been relying on more and more, they were still far from the answer.
Scotty was also pushing through sleep deprivation as he agonized over retrieving a transporter signal from the other universe. So far he had enough data, bits of truncated packets out of order, to work with. It was enough to prove that universe's existence and provide just enough teasing information on how to reach it.
Normally, Spock would allow for a healthy dose of patience while working out a problem, but that was not the case now. There was no evidence so far that this was a time sensitive problem, but Spock certainly treated it as if it were, every minute wasted a failure.
When he noticed his irritation at Scotty for yawning over the transporter controls, Spock knew it was time for a break, even just a few moments. Already he felt guilty for having indulged so richly in anger earlier. Feeling anything but gratitude for Mr. Scott's hard work was a sign he was losing control over his emotions. Considering everything at stake, Spock could not afford that. In fact, he decided, as he stood back with his eyes closed and his fingertips pressed lightly together at his chest, that he should focus even harder on neutralizing his emotions. He didn't have time for a proper meditation session, but he promised himself he would make mindfulness a priority.
Before he had a chance to open his eyes, McCoy walked in. Spock could already feel his temper rise as he heard Scotty greet him in a neutral tone. That little break empowered him, though; he breathed deeply for a few breaths and came back to full alertness calmly, even as McCoy started in on him within seconds of entering the room.
"Tired already?" McCoy teased, leaning on the transporter control unit, facing the two men. Scotty gave McCoy a wary glance before looking back down at his PADD, and Spock regarded McCoy with aloof acknowledgement.
"Will you be spending your entire hour here, Doctor?" Spock asked, as he punched calculations into his PADD.
"Doubt I'd want to," McCoy answered, giving the entire room a vague look of derision. "Just wanted to stop by and see if you've made any progress."
At this, Scotty looked up, but he glanced at Spock before saying anything. Spock gave his assent in the smallest of nods and stared at his PADD screen. "It's not for sure, of course, but I think we know how to identify hyde particles from their phase shift."
"'Hyde' particles?" McCoy asked with a smirk. "I wonder who came up with that."
Scotty grinned, while Spock tightened his jaw. This was distracting, to say the least. Spock just hoped McCoy would bore of this soon.
Scotty continued, "The point is, we got some the same stuff you're made out of. It's something to go on, alright." All the while, he spent at least half his attention on his calculations. "And even better, there's no signs of particle degradation or spontaneous phase shifting."
"Well, I could have told you that," McCoy said with some humor. But the friendly moment fell flat as Spock and Scotty resumed their work. McCoy took the ensuing silence as an opportunity to do some thinking. Chiefly, how all this might affect him.
He no longer feared being forced to return. Considering the Captain's lax treatment of the Romulan refugees, he was fairly certain he would at most be asked to resign his adopted post. He could live with that. He couldn't think of any threatening consequences to his counterpart's return, but that didn't mean there weren't be any. And he'd do his damndest to predict them.
But now he was daring to explore the possible positive consequences. He pondered this for a while, the sounds of Scotty and Spock exchanging the occasional word, of various noises from the transporter controls providing a calming background. He imagined this prudish Spock reuniting with "his" McCoy with distaste. He rush his fantasy to the part where Spock would most certainly thank him profusely (or reluctantly, either way). And…reward him for any help he might have provided?
McCoy glanced at Spock, noticing how still he was as he stared down at his PADD. Was he thinking or stumped? McCoy assumed the latter and came over to him, close enough to touch, though he didn't. Spock tensed and focused even harder on the little screen. Or pretended to. "I've got an idea," he said, a sly note to his voice.
Spock lowered his PADD to give McCoy a hard gaze. "Doctor, if you must spend your time here, I would advise you to do so quietly to avoid distracting us."
"Well, it couldn't hurt, would it?" Scotty protested gently. "We need all the help we can get." Spock looked hardly enthused, but he didn't protest.
"Thank you, Mr. Scott," McCoy said. The stark contrast between his own and this one amused him. But he looked at Spock when he offered his suggestion. "Right now you're probably having a hard time finding a way to send a person through the barrier. You'll probably need the energy equivalent of say…an ion storm."
Spock flashed a glare at McCoy. "Your point, Doctor?"
"So much for Vulcan patience. I was going to say, instead of a person, why not start with a message?"
Much of the irritation in Spock's face faded. "Interesting. Who would be the intended recipient?"
"Well, the first person to see it would be whoever's at the transporter controls. And, I suppose, whoever else happens to be standing around. So it must be encrypted in a way that only one person could decode."
Spock was silent a moment, watching McCoy gaze back at him. "I see. And what do you propose I tell him?"
McCoy returned with a small, mirthless smile. "You're asking the wrong person, Spock."
Spock had no answer. He could only watch as McCoy nodded politely in farewell to him and Scotty, and left the transporter room. Already that seed McCoy had planted in his mind was taking root. It was actually a boon; this extra variable would require a vastly different way of approaching this problem.
Now, how to convince himself to give up the one he loved?
/
McCoy felt like he'd just emerged from a fight, and yet he was relatively cheerful. He smiled more easily at passersby when they greeted him. The sounds emanating from the rec room up ahead only scared him a little. He still had to remind himself that he didn't have to be on high alert anymore, but it was getting easier to believe it.
He slowed as he passed the open door, and very nearly halted in the hallway to watch Lt. Uhura and Ens. Sulu playing cards together. Cards! McCoy shook his head as he resumed down the hall to the turbo-lift. This place would never cease to amaze.
He enjoyed an uneventful walk to Sickbay, with minimal neurotic thoughts. However, he was beginning to imagine some nasty possible futures in store for him, for having offered that suggestion to Spock. Sickbay now promised a distraction from such anxieties.
Nurse Chapel startled him at first, but he smiled at her as he passed by to his office. Now that he was here, he didn't know what to do. He didn't feel ready to resume his duties; he'd spent so little time as an actual doctor in his own world, he half feared he'd forgotten everything. Thankfully, no one came to ask him to work.
A little while later, as McCoy was browsing through personnel files on his computer, Chapel entered, after a brief buzz on the door panel. McCoy pushed down the instinctive feelings of fear her sudden entrance gave him and stood up. "Yes?" he asked, not entirely kind.
"There's someone to see you," she said. She was friendly, even a little quiet, but moved away when McCoy started towards her. They walked back out to the outer, receiving room, which is where Chapel left him. And where Dorek and his armed chaperones awaited.
McCoy smiled. "Good morning, Captain," he said, surprised to see him, but glad. He added, "Feeling any better?"
"A little," Dorek answered. Whined, actually. "It was difficult to sleep."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," said McCoy, coming closer to lightly take Dorek by the elbow. "That hypo I gave you last night should have taken care of you." He glanced back at the guards, pretending he wasn't nearly as nervous as he felt. "Wait out here for a while, would you? I just want to run a few tests."
They assented, but one of them tried to follow McCoy and his "patient" into the examination room. McCoy turned sharply, his grip tightening over Dorek's elbow, and snapped, "Can't my patient have a little privacy?"
Whether it was the harsh tone or his innate respect for protocol, the guard went back to wait with his partner. McCoy led Dorek to a biobed and pushed him down by the shoulders. As Dorek glanced towards the door, McCoy activated the sensors on the bulkhead by Dorek's head. He bent so he could say in a voice no louder than a whisper, "Don't let Spock discourage you."
Dorek turned to look at him. He narrowed his eyes slightly and waited.
To look productive, as that antsy guard was finding ways to pace by the door, McCoy prepared a hypo, and got close to administer the harmless solution, lifting Dorek's shirt sleeve in the process. He also said in a low voice, "He's not the only Vulcan in the galaxy."
Dorek gently rubbed the spot on his shoulder and frowned. When he looked back to McCoy, he had such a cold way of narrowing his eyes, as if in suspicion, it gave McCoy the chills. He took this as a reminder to treat this matter with respect. "Will I meet others at the Starbase?" he asked.
McCoy gave him a look. "Unlikely." And he turned to sterilize the hypo.
Dorek grabbed his arm, rather abruptly. When McCoy turned, he was on high alert, and didn't bother to hide it. Perhaps startled by the human's stare, Dorek slipped his hand off. But his urgency made him ask, "Will I be detained?"
McCoy took a moment to notice the fear in that question, and he realized the opportunity. His attitude hardened, and he seemed to close up. "Don't ask me how long," he said sharply, but quietly. "You aren't even supposed to know that."
By now Dorek had slid his legs over the side of the bed, and looked ready to snatch a hold of McCoy again. He restrained himself. McCoy watched, pretending to be far more interested in calibrating his instruments than listening to his patient, as Dorek began to say something, only to force himself to silent and calm. A trace of green returned to his face, and he closed his eyes a moment. He still looked shaken when he was ready to speak, but it was improvement.
"Well, of course I planned for that eventuality," he said. "I will seek out a mentor when Starfleet is finished with me."
McCoy chuckled softly, and Dorek threw him a look. "I think you need another dose," he said, pushing Dorek's knees back onto the bed. Dorek lay back down as McCoy administered another neutral solution for the guard's sake. He looked far more afraid than angry at McCoy.
McCoy could already guess what Dorek was busting to ask him, but could not. Now he really did look sick, lying on that biobed and churning his worst fears around his mind. Fears heavily influenced by Romulan military fear tactics, perhaps. So McCoy leaned closer, taking Dorek's wrist in a firm grip. "You'd better get the hell off this ship."
He turned before Dorek could begin to respond, and felt his heart rev up. This was some gamble. The restless guard came in, but stayed by the door. "Excuse me, Sir," he said. "We've got to get him back soon-"
McCoy dismissed him sharply. "We'll be done in a minute! And next time you walk in here without permission, I'm writing you up!" He watched the ensign leave before urging Dorek off the bed, taking him deeper into the room, to a cabinet. "It's alright," he said. "I want to leave, too." Dorek was silent but agonized as McCoy filled a little bottle with sugar pills.
McCoy held out the bottle and gave Dorek a serious look. "We can't do it without each other."
Dorek stared at the bottle, just as something other than the human's eyes. He looked grim but confident as he looked back up at McCoy and took the fake prescription. "What do I do?" he asked calmly.
McCoy smiled and led him back to his awaiting escorts with a hand on the shoulder. "Come back down later if that doesn't take care of it."
"I will, thank you," Dorek said pleasantly as he fell back in step with the other two. He and McCoy shared a look of forbidden excitement before he left. McCoy didn't wait another second before heading for the relative safety of his office. And the sure fire calming agent in those cabinets.
/
For the last hour and a half, Spock had remained in the transporter room alone. He had to work slower than normal, due to simple fatigue, but the time had passed rather quickly. He had thrown himself in the problem of writing a code for his other self to not only recognize as a message, but also to decode it.
Now, whether he followed it was another question. One Spock did not dare contemplate.
It was challenging enough to imagine, based both on how McCoy described him and his own observations of the others, how his counterpart's mind must work. It required him to imagine himself in the same situation, as McCoy's counterpart kept pestering him to do, and it was…distasteful.
Finally he decided on a code that spelled out English letters, depending on the prime factorization of the length of the spaces between each energy pulse. And then those letters in turn would spell out Vulcan phonemes as closely as possible with only Terran phonetics to work with. But in leaving much of the message vague, Spock was limiting how many others could fully understand the message, even if they could decode it.
Spock contacted the bridge, and heard Kirk's curt reply, "Yes?"
"Request 43% power diversion to transporter control."
On the bridge, Kirk paused. He flipped the switch and replied, "That will certainly be felt by the rest of the ship."
"It will take no longer than five minutes, Captain. I'm afraid I cannot ask for less."
Kirk's hesitation was unsettling for Spock, who waited, staring at the comms box, for his answer. Though he was fairly sure he would proceed no matter what answer he got.
He relaxed when the captain allowed it, and immediately requested the additional power from Engineering. The overhead lights lessened in intensity for a few seconds, as Spock sent his series of carefully timed solitons across the barrier.
He remained for a time after the last pulse. There was no guarantee the message would transcend the barrier, and no way to test if it could. There was no guarantee that his alternate self would have the opportunity to decode it, let alone obey it.
Spock advised himself to prepare for disappointment.
A/N: A million thanks to everyone who has been so kindly keeping up with this story! Your kudos, comments, and views help a lot to motivate me. I never intended to abandon this fic; life just tends to get in the way. And things aren't exactly smooth sailing right now, but decided to get right back to work anyway, and hopefully I won't leave you all hanging for too long.
This fic is so far more than halfway done, but don't' worry, I won't rush anything. Also, if you find any canonical errors, please tell me, and I'll fix them. (except the whole Romulan-Terran alliance backstory; I'm aware now that canon backstory is different…and I don't care lol) But things like how certain rooms are like on the inside, technology, etc. I feel like I know a lot, but you never know.