Altered states of conscience
As the errand boy he was now, Kirk was assigned the next day to clean up Engineering. For hours he swept floors, cleaned dust from endless panels of cables, and descaled residues (some dangerous) from tube after tube. The other Scotty was a man of few words, no sense of humor, and very little patience. More than once, he hit him on the head for taking a break from his hard work. Kirk had no experience in such tasks, and the Chief Engineer was irritated by his sudden inefficiency. So the most prudent thing for Kirk was to stay away from his wrath.
Looking at all that machinery, Kirk wondered if any of it could help him to return to his universe. Last time, Scotty had manipulated some transporter circuit in there, to get them back home. But neither Kirk, nor anyone on that ship, knew how he had done it.
Another option was to cause some failure in the warp core, in the dilithium crystals... Anything capable of altering the space-time continuum. But again, he lacked the knowledge, and he couldn't ask anyone or tinker with things under the gaze of his supervisors. In any case, most likely he'd have just caused a catastrophic explosion on the ship.
His best option was to resort to what was familiar: an ion storm, like the one that had transported him here both times. But those storms didn't happen just like that.
After the endless day of work, Kirk took off his security coveralls, full of grease and grime, and returned to his quarters. He needed a shower, and since he had to go to McCoy's cabin to fulfill his end of the deal, it seemed like a good place to wash off the dirt.
The door was unlocked, but there was no one inside. McCoy probably hadn't finished his shift yet. After taking a shower, Kirk walked over to the bed and let out a sigh. He really didn't want to do that AT ALL, especially after such an exhausting day. He only dreamed of returning to his quarters, and sleeping for a few hours straight, forgetting about his miserable situation. But there was no point in complaining. If he backed out now, McCoy could betray him, and he would also lose his only potential ally in that place.
Thus, Kirk got into bed naked and waited for about an hour, trying not to fall asleep.
Finally, he heard the automatic door open and McCoy enter, grumbling something under his breath. Then came the clinking of a crystal glass, and the liquor spilling into it, followed by a "gulp" as he downed it in one go. After this, his irregular footsteps approached the back, where the bed was.
"Hello, Bones."
"Dammit Jim, you almost gave me a heart attack!" he exclaimed, surprised to find him in bed. "What are you doing here!?"
"Well, fulfilling my end of the deal. You said you'd help me for a price, right?"
"Eh... yes... but... I never actually told you what the price was." he hesitated, scratching his head. "Was it so obvious what I was looking for?"
Kirk rolled his eyes, and McCoy blushed a little.
"If you want, I'll leave..."
"No... huh... Don't leave! Look, I'm still in pieces after yesterday's affair, and it's going to take me a while to recover. But that doesn't mean I don't find your company pleasant..." he smiled at him, taking off his blue shirt and undershirt.
Kirk looked away as McCoy undressed, and turned off the light as he climbed into bed with him. The less he saw, the easier it would be for him. In the middle of the darkness, he felt those skinny arms surrounding him and running along his back, and the other body pressing against his skin in search of warmth. The Doctor murmured with pleasure and rested his head on his shoulder. For a few moments, he remained like that, just embracing him.
With a bit of luck, Kirk wouldn't have to do anything with him that night. But he didn't want him asleep either; there was something he needed to discuss with him.
"Listen, Bones, I need to know when we're going to pass through an ion storm. It's the only way I can think of..."
"Hmmm! I don't know anything about those things." he whispered, stretching against him.
McCoy's hands moved down his back and caressed his ass sensually.
"Damn! Here we go again... " Kirk cursed to himself, but he didn't give up: "I already imagined that this wouldn't be your area of knowledge, but there has to be someone on board who knows. I can't go around asking, it would be very suspicious, but..."
"Jim… Jim… Touch me." sighed the Doctor, kissing his neck without paying much attention to what he said.
"Okay, but you have to help me."
"Yes, yes, I promise I'll help you! But first things first."
With a sigh of resignation, Kirk let him guide his hand to the place he wanted him to touch. It was incredible that McCoy still had such libido, despite the cocktail of drugs he took daily.
Holding his glans between his thumb and forefinger, Kirk began to caress the frenulum under his foreskin. While McCoy, for his part, touched his own nipple in circles.
For several minutes, he limited himself to inflicting this delicious torment on him, while the other man became more and more aroused. He heard his moans of pleasure next to his ear, and the moist sound of friction against his increasingly lubricated glans. It still seemed strange to Kirk to touch thus a cock that barely reacted to his caresses, but judging from the way he moaned and stirred, he guessed the Doctor was close to climax.
At that moment, Kirk stopped dead and took his hand away from him. McCoy let out a long wail of agony.
"But... But why do you stop!? Dammit Jim, I was so close...!"
"First tell me what I want to know. Then I'll continue with your cock." he said, bluntly.
"No, first finish what you've started!"
"If you cum, you'll fall asleep, and you won't tell me what I need. And I'll lose another day. I don't have time to spare, Bones."
The Doctor growled angrily. Kirk didn't enjoy making him suffer, but he had no choice. He grabbed his nipple and twisted it a little.
"Ah, ah, ahhhh! Son of a…!" he cursed. Kirk released him. "Don't be cruel, Jim! It's not befitting of your beloved Federation."
"Come on, start talking. Or the next pinch will be in your balls."
"No! It's alright, alright!" exclaimed the Doctor, covering his crotch just in case. "I don't know anything about ion storms. But Chekov is in charge of Navigation at the bridge. I suppose he has access to route maps, and the position of any phenomena that might affect the ship along the way."
"Any chance of stealing those star maps?"
"Impossible. I know that the bridge personnel can monitor remotely from the computers in their cabins. But of course, there are security passwords and all that."
"And any way to earn Chekov's collaboration?"
McCoy was silent for a few moments, turned on the bed, and stared at the ceiling in the darkness.
"There's one thing that occurs to me... But you're not going to like it. We're going to get our hands dirty. You and me, because you can't do this alone."
"I already assumed that to escape this dimension, I'd have to get my hands dirty..." sighed Kirk.
"Oh, yes, and much, much more than you think!" replied McCoy, with an ominous tone. "Believe me, before you leave this world, if you ever do, you'll have done more terrible things than you imagine. How do you think we survive here?"
Kirk reflected on this, dejected. He understood now how privileged he was in his own world. As Captain of the Enterprise, he had hundreds of instruments at his service to resolve conflicts in the most diplomatic and humane way possible. But here, he couldn't afford to follow his principles all the time.
Satisfied with McCoy's cooperation, however, he put his hand around his waist and turned him toward him again.
"Thank you, Bones. Now I'll finish what I started."
And in gratitude, Kirk got under the covers and went down to McCoy's crotch. Running his hand up his inner thigh, he caressed his perineum with his thumb, as he took his cock into his mouth. In a few minutes, McCoy was finished, with a little shout muffled by the pillow.
Kirk wiped the corner of his mouth and stood up.
"Won't you stay the night with me?" the Doctor asked him, with an odd shyness.
"No, I'll be more comfortable in my own bed. Plus, this way you can sleep without your eyepatch." explained Kirk, looking for his clothes in the darkness. "Remember that tomorrow we have to take care of that thing with Chekov. You'll give me the details of the plan."
"Okay... Good night, Jim."
The next day, when Chekov had finished his shift on the bridge, he received an unexpected call from sickbay. The ensign was dismayed, and he strode towards it in swift steps.
"Vell, vhat's all dis about!? You gave me a checkup last veek, starik, and I'm fine. Vhy are you making me come back here!?" complained the young man, storming into sickbay in a foul mood.
At that time, there was no one else except Dr. McCoy, and an unidentified patient on one of the beds, completely covered with a sheet.
"Ah, Chekov, come over here, my boy! There was a little problem with your last analysis." McCoy received him with an alluring smile. And grabbing his arm, he led him towards one of the beds, gently but with insistence.
"Vho's the stiff!?" exclaimed Chekov, pointing to the body under the sheet, while he lay down on the bed.
"Oh, that one! Just a down-on-his-luck security guy. Don't worry about him."
Chekov shrugged. It was true that security personnel were prone to fatal accidents. However, the shine of a needle next to his left arm made him focus on other things:
"Hey hey hey! Vhat the hell is dat!?"
"It's just a vaccine, kid."
"A waccine my ass! You're probably tryink to knock me out, so you can get your hands on me, you old pervert!"
McCoy rolled his eye with some exasperation.
"Come on, Chekov, you know I don't do that kind of thing. Not anymore..." he assured him, with a not at all reassuring smile. "I have to give you this vaccine because we discovered a certain virus in your blood in the last analysis."
"Vhat kind of wirus?"
"One that can cause… eh… chronic diarrhea."
The young man's big brown eyes grew even bigger upon hearing this. And he suddenly began to stutter:
"Khro... Khronic... diarrhea!?"
"Yeah. It means it will give you diarrhea. Constantly. For the rest of your days." Now Chekov seemed truly terrified. "But if you trust me so little, and prefer that I don't inject you…"
"No no no! Inject it, give me de waccine! I don't vant to haf khronic diarrhea, yebat!"
"Ah, that's better! A little, minor jab, then..." And removing the sleeve of his sweater, McCoy injected him with the contents of the syringe. "Now you have to lie down for a few minutes for it to take effect."
Chekov obeyed. Soon, his pupils were dilated to their maximum, his pulse had accelerated, and his forehead showed beads of sweat due to the increase in temperature.
"Ready, Jim. You can come out now." whispered McCoy, and the body next to him stood up, removing the sheet to reveal Kirk. "Right now he's as obedient as a robot, although he retains his other mental faculties. His mind is completely open to suggestion, but he's unable to make his own decisions."
Kirk approached Chekov's motionless body and took a look. It certainly wasn't the way he liked to do things, but he had no choice.
McCoy moved his finger in front of Chekov's eyes, and his pupils followed the movement while the rest of him remained rigid. The Doctor seemed to have fun:
"This Aldebaran poison is quite a discovery." he laughed, evilly. "Right now I could order him to drop his pants and do a Cossack dance in the middle of the bridge, and he'd do it. He wouldn't even remember anything afterwards!"
"Bones, please... Don't do that." sighed Kirk in dismay.
"Meh, it's just a joke! Don't be so boring... Well, what did you want to ask him?"
"I need the route maps from his computer. As complete and detailed as possible, and decrypted. I need him to bring them to me on a tape."
McCoy's eye twinkled cunningly, and he leaned over his hypnotized patient.
"Did you hear that, Pavel?"
"I'm Pavel." answered the ensign, with a monotonous and unnatural voice. His face didn't register the slightest expression.
"Yeah. You're Pavel. And I'm McCoy, your master."
"Master McCoy."
"You have to go to your cabin."
"Yes."
"You have to turn on the computer."
"Yes."
"You have to copy all the navigation maps to this tape, decrypted and ready to read." he continued, handing him a yellow tape. Chekov caught it mechanically, and pressed it against his chest.
"Anyting else, master McCoy?"
"You have to bring the tape back to sickbay. And if, on the way, someone asks you where you're going, tell them that you've forgotten a medical report in your cabin. Now carry out my orders."
"Yes, master McCoy."
And with a certain rigidity, Chekov got up from the bed, and disappeared through the door in energetic strides, stiff as a rod.
"I confess that this has made me a little horny." laughed the Doctor.
"Let's hope that on the way, no one asks him to go to the canteen or the bowling alley..." sighed Kirk. "Poor Chekov! I feel bad for doing this."
"Do you want those maps or not!?" groaned McCoy, giving him an annoyed look. "Well, this was the only way to get them."
Kirk scratched his head thoughtfully.
"I admit that it's a very powerful weapon. I'm surprised you don't use it more often to get your way."
McCoy opened his eye, surprised, and then lowered his head with some shame.
"It's one thing to sneak an aphrodisiac into your drink to make you notice me... And another thing to use people as robots without willpower, to murder the opposition." he admitted. "Even if …even if you don't believe it… I still have my principles."
Kirk smiled slightly when he heard that.
"Bones…"
"Besides, most of the crew aren't as stupid as Chekov! They'd know right away that I was trying to drug them."
And the Doctor turned his back on him, settling the issue. Kirk realized that this made McCoy feel vulnerable. Having sensitivity was not something highly appreciated in that universe.
A while later, Chekov walked through the sickbay door again, just as stiff as he had been when he left. Before hiding under the sheet again, Kirk was relieved to see that the ensign had the yellow tape with him. Chekov handed it to McCoy, and then lay meekly back on the bed.
For about half an hour, nothing was heard in sickbay, other than McCoy's halting steps back and forth. But then Chekov began to wake up from his hypnotic state, groaning and thrashing.
"Aaaah, vhat a headache! Vhat happened... vhere am I? It's like... it's like I fainted for a moment..." he grunted, while pressing his temples. Then, seeing McCoy next to him, he exploded with anger and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt: "You, svoloch! You've done somethink to me, I'm sure! Haf you been touching me!?"
"Wh...What? No, Chekov! How can you come up with something like that!?" the Doctor stammered. "You've had... uh... a small reaction to the vaccine, and you got dizzy. That's why I told you to lie down for a while. It's normal!"
Chekov narrowed his eyes, still not trusting him completely. But little by little, he loosened his grip around McCoy's neck, and McCoy pulled away from him, startled.
"It better be dat, Cossack... Because if I find out dat you've molested me... I'll gouge out your other eye myself!" And he made the shining blade of a dagger dance in front of the Doctor's upset face.
After this, Chekov jumped off the bed and left. McCoy breathed a sigh of relief, and leaned against the wall due to the searing pain that was coursing through him at that moment.
"Are you alright?" Kirk asked him, coming out of his hiding place, and holding him by the shoulders.
"Ufff, yes... yes, I'm fine! Here's your damn tape." he snorted, handing him the piece of yellow plastic. "Don't ask me to do any more of these things, okay?"
At the end of his daily duties, Kirk joined McCoy in his cabin to review the contents of the tape on the Doctor's personal computer.
Luckily, Chekov had copied the maps correctly, and Kirk began scanning them for his ion storm. He first looked at the ship's route for the next three days. Planets on the way, asteroid fields. Nothing. He expanded the view for the entire week. A luminescent nebula here and there, the path of a comet marked with a bright line. Nothing. Kirk was starting to get nervous. What if the ship's route wasn't going to pass, at any time, through one of those storms?
McCoy watched him, leaning against the wall and somewhat bored. He began to pace around the room, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and swallowed it accompanied by a handful of pills.
"Are you sure you should mix medications with alcohol?" scolded Kirk, straining his eyes at the map.
"Who's the doctor here, you or me!?"
"You're right about that..." he admitted.
Then McCoy's arms circled him from behind the chair's back, and he began placing wet kisses along his neck.
"Let's go to bed, Jim... You'll continue with that tomorrow."
"No, I have to solve this now... Wait a minute!" Kirk uttered an exclamation, and enlarged the map even more to read the annotations. "Yes, that's it, there it is!"
"What?" mumbled McCoy, more interested in fondling Kirk's pecs than in his discovery.
"The ion storm! According to this map, the Enterprise will pass through a zone of high ionization upon arriving at Regulus II, for a protocol stop. Let's see how long it will take approximately, at normal cruising speed..." Kirk narrowed his eyes, making certain calculations on the map. The result he obtained disheartened him quite a bit: "33 days! Do I still have to wait 33 more days here?"
And that was assuming that the ship had no mishap along the way, no breakdown that would delay them. Would it be soon enough? Last time, they had a very limited time to return to their universe. What if this time it was the same, and the portal between the two worlds was permanently sealed?
But no, he had to try. The fact that he was there now, was proof enough that the space between their two dimensions wasn't closed. This was his only chance to make it, now that he didn't have Scotty's help. It was better than nothing.
"Hmmmm! Well, you already have your answer." whispered McCoy, reaching out to turn off the computer. "Now let's go to bed. Seeing you there working, ignoring my caresses, has made me incredibly horny."
McCoy separated from him, took off his blue shirt, leaving just his black undershirt on, and lay down on the bed voluptuously. He motioned with his finger for him to come closer.
"He thinks himself really sexy, right?" thought Kirk, rolling his eyes.
But there was no point in complaining, so he lay down on top of him, and McCoy put his arms around him. Obviously, he expected Kirk to undress him this time. They took off each other's clothes. And in the Doctor's smile, in the sparkle in his eye as he caressed Kirk's face and wrapped his legs around him, Kirk divined something new. Some kind of… tenderness?
He turned off the light as soon as possible, and lay down on the other naked body. He felt his bones, his body hair, the warmth between his legs. And the particular smell of his skin: a mix of alcohol, nicotine, hospital disinfectant, and an acrid, masculine base scent, which intensified when he was aroused. He tried to imagine that this wasn't his friend's double, but someone else. Someone who didn't look anything like him.
But how to do so?
That night, McCoy didn't want Kirk to penetrate him either. He still hadn't recovered, and Kirk wondered if he ever would. So they just rubbed their members against each other, Kirk's hard, McCoy's limp, until they both climaxed.
The Doctor snuggled up next to him, hugging him. And when Kirk noticed in his calm, regular breathing that he had fallen asleep, he silently fled the cabin.
33 days. And they didn't pass quickly, either. Kirk spent his days doing all kinds of various jobs. Cleaning, loading and unloading boxes and spare parts, as sparring partner for the security team's hand-to-hand combat... Anything they ordered him, at any time. Despite everything, Kirk blessed that workload. If he was too busy at all hours, Spock probably wouldn't call him. And the less time he spent around Spock, the less likely he was to discover his true identity.
On the other hand, most people were unpleasant to Kirk, or simply didn't talk to him, as if he were an animal. No, worse than an animal, because one tends to be affectionate with his pets. Kirk felt sorry for his counterpart; he must lead a very sad and miserable life on that ship. And he wondered if that suffering had changed his character.
His bedtime tasks were very different. Day after day Kirk came to McCoy's cabin upon finishing his work, to make him happy for a while. He learned to anticipate his wishes simply by the way the Doctor crawled into bed next to him.
If he placed himself on his back, the least of the times, it was because he wanted Kirk to fuck him. If he lay on his side facing him, he wanted them to masturbate each other. And often, when he simply embraced him, he just wanted to fall asleep next to him.
At first, Kirk had seen all of this as an unpleasant obligation. But with repetition he got used to it. He didn't really care about doing any of this with McCoy anymore. And he stopped running away from his side as soon as he fell asleep. The bed was small for both of them, but it was warm in there, and McCoy hardly took up any space. Kirk had to admit that, on that ship where he didn't have a single friend, he would have felt very lonely if he had to sleep in his own cabin.
He got used to hearing those faltering moans in the darkness, and the Doctor's calm breathing when he fell asleep. Some days he was so high on drugs, he'd fall asleep too while he was touching him. Once, even, while he had his fingers inside him. Kirk just hoped that he kept breathing, that a sudden silence didn't fall in that room, on any of those days.
And many times he found himself stroking his hair, he didn't know exactly why, when the other had already fallen asleep in his arms. He was fine there. Kirk stopped caring.
They didn't make any stop for the first 15 days, which favored Kirk's designs. But shortly afterward, he had to attend another of those grotesque ceremonies on a planet lost in the middle of nowhere.
Back on the ship, Spock called him to his cabin. Kirk headed there like a condemned man on his way to the gallows. He was expecting the worst. However, upon entering he found Spock sitting in front of a chess board, waiting for him to play. The Admiral motioned for him to sit down, with a raised eyebrow, and Kirk tried not to let his relief show too clearly on his face.
Now, how should he approach that game? Was the other Kirk as good as him at chess or not? Spock clasped his hands on the table, somewhat impatient with his hesitancy. Finally, Kirk decided that there was no reason to think that his counterpart was intellectually inferior in this game. Furthermore, if that Spock used to play chess with him, it must be because he considered him a worthy rival. So Kirk decided to play as he usually did.
His pieces were the white ones, and Spock's were black. A few minutes into the game, his opponent had already taken several pawns and a knight.
"You seem disturbed." commented the Admiral. "I have noticed that these protocol visits upset you more than usual. You don't like my system?"
Kirk frowned, trying to concentrate on the board, despite the images of horror that flashed through his mind, as he remembered that afternoon's ceremony.
"It's an efficient system, of course."
"According to my calculations, the most efficient. The one that brings the greatest benefit to the greatest number of people." he stated, while taking Kirk's tower.
"Yes, but it's a cold system... And void. It has no value." Spock raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the unexpected criticism. Kirk continued, undeterred by those inscrutable eyes: "No hopes, no frustrations, no love, no passions, no conflict, no uncertainty, no happiness. Without the chaos of life... it stops being life."
"Chaos is what I fight against, Kirk. Every day is a battle against entropy. And believe me, in that battle, the main victim is me. You can't understand the weight I carry on my shoulders. The price you pay for perfection. And the horror of seeing how the corruption of that entropy, the stench of that chaos, contaminates me too. No one has sacrificed as much for order in the galaxy as I have, because no one else is willing to impose that order, and the price that comes with it."
"Exactly. You impose that order, Admiral. And from the moment it's imposed, it ceases to be a true natural order. At the slightest oversight, this Empire could collapse like a house of cards."
With his next move, Spock took the white queen. The sharp features of his face contorted into a barely perceptible smile, giving him an almost satanic look.
"You talk about oversights, but I notice you're distracted from the game."
"Maybe I wanted to sacrifice that queen." Kirk challenged him, with an eloquent gleam in his eyes.
"Maybe you think it was your decision. But in reality it's only a consequence of that entropy that dominates you." Spock put his index fingers together, in that gesture of concentration that was so very his, and studied him thoughtfully. "I really expected more from you. I hoped your intellect would understand the beauty of what I'm building."
"What beauty?"
"That of a diamond. The life of this galaxy is an uncut diamond, and I'm chiseling its rough edges and imperfections. What you consider the essence of life, all those uncertainties and arbitrary variables, are nothing more than debris that hinder its true brilliance."
Kirk moved his remaining knight to the upper level, and replied, with a bitter smile:
"Maybe life isn't a diamond. Maybe it's... like an egg. And when you try to remove all that ugly shell that covers it, you only end up with it spilling between your fingers... Checkmate, Admiral."
Spock raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by his opponent's strategy. But it was true, no matter what he did, he had lost.
"You know what, Kirk? Of all the crew members of this ship, and even of all the politicians, ambassadors and admirals I know, only you are my equal." Then Spock reached out his arm, and began to caress Kirk's hand over the table. The latter swallowed. "I'll miss you when, in the end, I'll have to get rid of you..."
Spock's long fingers traced the vein on his back, up and down, up and down, with torturous slowness. Kirk understood what that meant. His heart raced so much that his vision blurred.
Suddenly, Spock jumped up, and with his superhuman strength, pinned him face-first into the wall with one arm. Kirk felt his breath brushing against his ear, and the heat of his body pressing against his back.
"Although I think... I think that you haven't missed me lately, am I wrong?" Spock's voice had taken on an urgent, aroused tone, under all that patina of coldness. "You spend a lot of time in the little Doctor's cabin, don't you?"
Kirk swallowed once, twice, three times. His mouth was so dry that he could hardly even respond:
"Are you… are you jealous, Spock?"
"Heh... You know perfectly well how illogical jealousy is for me. Why should I be? If something truly belongs to you, nothing and no one can take it from you, and therefore jealousy is baseless. If, on the other hand, there's a reason for jealousy, then the object didn't really belong to you, and why be jealous of what is not yours? No, Kirk, no... My curiosity is merely... intellectual." Spock's hand slid under the neckline of his vest, and began to caress his nipple. Kirk gasped; no doubt Spock could feel the rapid throbbing of his heart. "Tell me, Jim, why McCoy? There are 430 people on this ship. And 429 are in better shape than McCoy. Then… why him? Why that wretch, that drug addict?" Spock's lips rested on his neck for a moment.
"Does… does there have to be a reason…?"
"Come on, Jim! Don't take me for stupid. I know the Doctor isn't abusing you, because I don't allow anyone to touch you without your consent; a privilege for being mine. Besides, McCoy would be unable to force himself on you. You could knock him down with a single punch. Therefore, logically, it must be a consensual relationship. What I want to know is why you chose him, instead of any of the beautiful women who inhabit this ship."
Spock's hand left his chest, and began to move down his stomach. Kirk had to think of something plausible, and quickly. He couldn't say that he was doing it out of pity (his double wasn't so generous), and he certainly couldn't tell the truth.
Spock's fingers had almost reached his crotch.
"I... I... I wanted to have someone to dominate!"
"Explain yourself."
"Yes... eh... I wanted to have someone weaker than me, someone to vent... my most sadistic instincts. Someone who couldn't defend himself."
"Oh! So it was you who raped him."
"Y...Yes... I raped him." muttered Kirk, forcing the words out his throat. Even if it was a lie, the mere idea was repugnant to him.
"Well, that would explain the first time. But you've been fornicating with him for half a month. McCoy is weak, but perfidious. By now, you would have ended up like Sulu... wouldn't you?"
"No, because he... He liked it!" Kirk blurted out, while Spock's other hand closed around his neck and began to squeeze his Adam's apple. "He liked that I abused him, and he asked me to keep doing it. So… so… I took advantage of the situation."
"Is he a masochist, then? Even more illogical than your sadism. Although I'm not surprised about him..." Spock's fingers finally reached his crotch, and caressed him with lust. "What's wrong, Jim? Don't I arouse you today? Normally, you'd be completely hard by now."
Kirk was terrified. Everything ended there. Spock was going to find out in a matter of seconds. As soon as he lowered his pants. And judging by the excited breathing against his neck, he wasn't going to wait much longer. He closed his eyes and prepared for the worst.
At that moment, the roar of the red alarm began to blare throughout the ship.
"Bridge to Admiral!" was heard through the wall intercom.
Spock snorted in frustration, but before answering, he was once again a perfect model of Vulcan coldness:
"Spock here."
"A hidden Romulan ship has just decloaked at bearing 015.7. Shields raised. She's getting ready for…"
A violent shake shook the entire ship, and communications were cut off for an instant. From the force of the impact, it appeared to have been a photon torpedo.
"I'm on my way." reported Spock, and closed the intercom. Before leaving through the door, he turned to Kirk, trembling against the wall from the impact. "We'll continue with the game later, Kirk. And we'll see who checkmates who..."
With that, Spock ran towards the bridge, where the urgency of the situation required him most. Kirk let himself slide down the wall to the floor, letting out an endless sigh of relief. He never believed that the day would come, when the phrase "Blessed Romulans" would come to his lips.
Once the initial shock had passed, and when his bones were no longer made of gelatin, he realized his current situation. He was in Spock's cabin. Completely alone. Whatever secret Spock kept there, he had it at his fingertips right now. Although from the looks of it, Spock was confident enough in the sanctity of his secrets that he had simply left him alone. Still, it was worth a try.
He walked over to the computer on his desk. He knew his own Spock's passcode, out of sheer necessity, and wondered if it was the same as his counterpart's. They were very different men, who had led very disparate lives, but what if their childhood had been similar and the divergence had only manifested itself later?
Kirk typed on the passcode screen: "I-Chaya."
Bingo. At once, all of Spock's secret data was visible to him. Kirk smiled to himself as he imagined the cruel Spock of the mirror dimension, pulling his villainous beard, and choosing the name of his beloved childhood sehlat as a passcode.
Most of the data on that computer didn't make any sense to Kirk. But a recent report caught his attention powerfully. It seemed like plans and conversations to assassinate the current Emperor and put Spock in his place.
Was that the sacrifice Spock was referring to earlier? The stain of chaos that corrupted him, but that he had to endure to maintain his order, his system? Whatever it was, Kirk knew it was extremely important. What would happen if it were discovered that the greatest champion of order and law in the Empire, the Admiral who had put an end to political intrigues, was in reality nothing more than another common murderer like his predecessors?
Another shake of the ship reminded Kirk that they were in the middle of a Romulan attack. He couldn't linger much longer in that cabin. He still had Chekov's yellow tape, empty after having dumped the maps into McCoy's computer. So he put it into the machine and copied the report. He still didn't know what he would do with it, or if he would do anything. Probably, he shouldn't show it to anyone just yet, not even to McCoy. He put the tape in a well-protected inside pocket of his vest, then turned off the machine and ran out of there.
Kirk was assigned to rescue teams during the emergency. The first impact had been in Engineering, and there were numerous injured persons. Kirk carried the bloodied men one by one to take them to sickbay. During his fleeting visits, and while he placed wounded people in the increasingly scarce beds, he was able to see the other McCoy in action for the first time.
And he was surprised to discover that, in the midst of adversity, that Doctor wasn't so different from the one he knew. He moved from patient to patient efficiently, not letting his own discomfort to incapacitate him from treating them quickly. And while many of the nurses seemed completely indifferent to the wounded, even mocking them when they screamed in pain as they reset a broken bone, McCoy tried to make their stay there as brief and painless as possible.
Seeing him thus, in profile next to one of the wounded, with his brow furrowed in concentration and the eyepatch out of his line of sight, Kirk had the impression of being in front of his Bones again. The image of the alcoholic, unmotivated and suspicious McCoy that he had formed, dissolved like a mirage. And from its shreds emerged the McCoy he knew, his friend. Kirk smiled, touched.
But there were still many casualties on the ship, and his duties required him elsewhere. He ran back towards Engineering. Then, as he was descending an emergency ladder, the ship received an impact on the deck he currently was, and Kirk lost his balance. His hand slipped from the rung, and then came a loud bang... Everything suddenly went black.
The next thing he remembered was waking up in a bed, with the strong white light of sickbay in his eyes, and a tremendous headache. At his side, a snore and a curse between clenched teeth, alerted him that he wasn't alone.
McCoy, dozing in a chair at the headboard, had just woken up with a start.
"Oh! You've already regained consciousness... Thank goodness. A little more and you wouldn't tell it, Jim." he smiled, rubbing his eye.
The eyeball was bloodshot, after what must have been many hours of insomnia, and the dark circle under it, more pronounced than usual, framed it with pathos. Kirk raised his hand to his forehead, where it hurt the most, and noticed a rough, swollen line.
"What happened to me?" he asked, with a soft voice that surprised him because of its weakness.
"You split your head open when you fell from that ladder. Like a coconut, clack!" explained the Doctor, more graphically than was necessary. "So I had to stitch the gap. You suffered a severe concussion and have been passed out for several hours. But now that you're awake, the greatest danger has passed."
"Stitched..." Kirk looked around, making sure no one else was listening. "Don't you have protoplasers and dermal regenerators here?"
McCoy raised an eyebrow, as if Kirk had spoken in Klingon.
"What the hell are you talking about? I've sewn you up like it's always done, of course. It will leave you with a nice scar."
Kirk smiled slightly; he didn't care much about keeping that war scar. He had been through so many dangers throughout his career… And yet, the Federation's medical techniques had left almost no mark on him to prove it.
"And the ship?"
"She's out of danger now. There have been numerous damages, but nothing that cannot be repaired in a couple of days. So don't worry about the journey to your ion storm..."
McCoy scratched his head and looked away, annoyed. He looked extremely tired; he probably couldn't even take his painkillers. Kirk slid his hand out of the sheet, and caressed the Doctor's fingers.
"Bones... You've been taking care of me all this time, right?"
The other turned beet red, and bit his lip.
"I... uh... I preferred to take care of you personally... If I had left you with a nurse, well... Imagine if he had decided to undress you to put you in pajamas or something like that! The lid would have blown off the story…"
That was his way of saying "I was worried about you, Jim." Maybe it wasn't so different from what the real McCoy would have said.
The real McCoy… Kirk frowned as he thought of that expression. Was it fair to continue referring to his own people as "the real ones"? Weren't these people as real as they were? Wasn't this McCoy there with him at that moment, his bony hand warm between his fingers?
"Bones, come closer. I want to whisper something in your ear. Come closer."
McCoy grumbled, but got up from the chair and leaned over him.
"What? I hope it's important enough to make me bend my spine like this! Right now it hurts like hell..."
But Kirk had nothing to say to him. Instead, he gently grabbed the back of his neck, lifted his own head, and brought their lips together. He felt McCoy tensing in surprise for the first few seconds, but when Kirk's tongue pushed against his teeth, he finally relented and let him in, with a sigh of pleasure. Safe from prying eyes, they kissed for a long time, abandoned on that strange island of intimacy. McCoy's mouth had a cigarette aftertaste, but it wasn't unpleasant. Kirk realized that this was, in fact, the first time he had kissed the Doctor on his lips. At this point, he had done to him practically everything you can do to a man, and yet… not a single kiss on his mouth.
McCoy was reluctant to let go of his tongue, but his lower limbs were starting to shake too much.
"Ugh! I don't feel well. I need another shot, and take a rest." he let out, separating from him with a groan. "Now that you're conscious, I can leave you alone for a while. Chapel is on shift if you need anything."
"Of course. Go to sleep, Bones."
Kirk still gently brushed his hand, as he turned around to limp out of sickbay.
For a couple of days, Kirk stayed in sickbay as a precaution, considering that head injuries could be complicated. However, he knew that he was fully recovered.
Luckily, his only injury had been to his head, so the nurses had no excuse to undress him, nor did he need their help to go to the bathroom. Chapel tried to make advances on him a few times, especially when McCoy was around and she could make him jealous. In truth, Kirk found it hard not looking at her cleavage, since every time she leaned over him it took up... well, his entire field of vision. But at all times he kept his coldness and indifference towards her; fanning her hopes would have been a very dangerous game. And anyway, such an overt woman wasn't attractive to him.
"I don't know what's wrong with you men!" she complained, while she disinfected the area around Kirk's suture a little. "You stare and stare, but as soon as you come across a woman with some confidence, you get afraid."
"It's not fear, it's boredom!" replied McCoy, refilling some vials on a nearby table. "Stop being a slut, and come here to help me with this."
"Pfft! When I said 'men', I wasn't referring to you, my dear Doctor." mocked Chapel, approaching him with a swaying. And with all the nerve in the world, she planted her hand on McCoy's crotch. "Nothing. Dead. What should I do with this!?"
McCoy blushed with embarrassment and was unable to answer anything, while Chapel walked away with the vials in her hand, and a malicious giggle on her lips.
"She's cruel, don't pay attention to her." whispered Kirk from the bed. "I don't care at all about that."
"Th… Thank you, Jim." But it was evident that the nurse's words had affected him, because he immediately turned around and also left the room, as if Kirk's gaze burned him.
When he was finally discharged from sickbay, Kirk returned to his duties sporting the new stitch on his forehead. There were many repairs to be made in Engineering, but he helped with great diligence (no one was in as much of a hurry as he was to resume the voyage, as soon as possible). And indeed, a couple of days later, the ship was able to keep normal warp speed.
Tired, but pleased with progress, he headed to McCoy's cabin at bedtime, as had been his usual routine. That day he found him already in bed, lying face down while reading a book. The Doctor simply registered his entry with a small smile, but otherwise ignored him, engrossed in in his reading. The sheet had slipped down to his hip, revealing his bare back.
Kirk was in an exceptionally good mood that day. He sat in a chair next to him and began to caress his protruding vertebrae. One, two, three, four... downwards. McCoy tried to slap his hand away, without much success.
"Jim, stop being annoying! That makes me cringe." he complained, and Kirk noticed his spine arching in a shiver as he reached his lower back.
"Is your little self all naked?" he laughed, lifting the sheet a little. "How cute…"
And he gave McCoy a playful kiss on his last vertebra.
"You won't let me read, clown."
"Let me give you a lumbar massage. Maybe it will relieve your pain a little." offered Kirk, with his most radiant smile.
McCoy raised an eyebrow, but gave him permission with some indifference, as he continued reading. Kirk began massaging his lower back. He felt the little bones moving under his pressure, and the slight contractions of his muscles as he tried to undo some knot.
"Hmmm, yes... that's so nice!" sighed McCoy, and raising his head with a start, he exclaimed: "Oh, Jim, how wonderful! The pain is gone…completely! I don't think I'll need drugs anymore!"
"Re… Really?" Kirk stammered, stopping short. He had no idea he was so good at giving massages. He was left stunned.
McCoy turned to him, with an evil smirk and a mocking gleam in his eye.
"Of course not, you idiot! I'm sorry to tell you, but your massages suck. If you gave someone a shoulder massage, you'd probably knock him out, just like that nerve pinch of Spock."
Kirk snorted and rolled his eyes. In revenge, he stuck his fingers between his ribs, and the other man writhed in a tickling spasm.
"You're evil, you know?" whispered Kirk, moving his hand under his hairy armpit, and playing with him until he twitched.
"Stop, stop! You're insufferable..."
"What are you reading? It looks like a very old book, from the days they were still of paper. Is it a book from your childhood?" he kept poking him.
"Haha, so funny! I'm only six years older than you, idiot!"
Kirk wasn't about to leave him alone until he paid attention to him. He turned the book cover a little to read the title.
"'Lolita', by Vladimir Nabokov. Ah! Reading dirty novels, aren't you, Doctor?"
"It's not what you think!"
"Come on, don't be angry, daddy." whispered Kirk, kissing him on his gray temple, while his hand kept caressing his armpit.
McCoy shivered, feeling something between tickling and pleasurable. And when that hand slipped between the mattress and began to caress his nipple, he put the book away and left it on the shelf next to the bed.
"I can't win against you, Jim." he smiled, turning sideways towards him, with his head resting on his hand. And then, frowning, he added: "Anyway, the little girl in that novel is perverse. She disturbs me too much."
Kirk raised an eyebrow, dumbfounded. Either McCoy had a very strange way of interpreting that story, or in that universe it was a totally different novel... He hoped it was the latter.
Finally the center of his attention, Kirk leaned over him to kiss him on the mouth. His hand caressed his ribs slowly.
"Why don't you eat more? You're so skinny."
"I don't usually have much appetite." he answered, shrugging his shoulders. A strange glint danced then on the blue surface of his eye. And with a voice between fearful and hopeful, he added: "Jim, I'd like to show you something..."
McCoy sat up a little higher in bed. As he raised his arms to reach the strap of his eyepatch, the sheet slipped further, exposing his pubic hair.
"Won't you be disgusted?" he hesitated for a moment, before taking it off.
Kirk shook his head, and smiled at him with affection. McCoy then proceeded to remove the patch that had covered his eye's wound till now. Kirk felt his heart race.
He knew every last corner of that body. He had explored it, penetrated it. With his fingers, his tongue, his member... And yet, upon witnessing the uncovering of that last corner, until now forbidden, he had the impression of penetrating McCoy's most intimate, most vulnerable part. The movement of his hands to remove that piece of cloth seemed endless, insufferably erotic.
When everything was finally revealed, Kirk stared at the wound in silence. A deep cut from the eyebrow to below the socket, disfigured by scar tissue, which had grown around it like a reddish areola. And a drooping, hollow eyelid that hid nothing but emptiness behind its translucent skin.
Kirk ran his fingers lightly along the cut, and felt the other man pressing his head into his palm in comfort.
"Who did this to you, Bones?" he muttered. His voice sounded more compassionate than he intended. But no. He shouldn't humiliate him with signs of pity. Although... what if his gaze betrayed him anyway?
"It was Spock. Quite early in his captaincy, and shortly after I became crippled. We had a heated argument, when I found out what they were doing in the imperial domains with all those... sick people... With those children!" And he moved away a little, with a gesture of pain. "I don't want to seem sentimental but... There are certain limits that I can't cross. And I told Spock that I couldn't stand seeing so much cruelty, under those pretexts of rationality. Then he took out his dagger, and right there, in front of everyone, he gouged my eye out. He said that, this way, I wouldn't see so much. Who would have thought it, right? Spock has a sense of humor!"
McCoy pressed his lips into a bitter half-smile.
"An outburst like that doesn't seem like Spock." Kirk pointed out, dismayed.
"And it's not. But at that moment he was going into pon farr, and he wasn't able to suppress his wild instincts. Later, Spock was deeply ashamed of having lost his temper like that, in public. And he began obsessing about the idea of losing control again, of appearing weak and at the mercy of his emotions. That tormented him more than the loss of my eye did to me. It was then that he took the other Kirk as his lover. He believes that if he has frequent intercourse with him, he can postpone his next pon farr indefinitely. I don't think it's going to do shit but... That's what Spock believes."
"Yeah, about that... Spock got 'affectionate' with me right before the Romulan attack." confessed Kirk. "If that ship hadn't appeared..."
McCoy raised an eyebrow, bewildered, and scratched his head.
"He tried to fuck you recently!? How odd! He always follows a regular schedule to do it with the other Kirk. By my calculations, it's too early."
"Wow, Bones! You really spied on us often, to keep everything so under control, right?"
"Shut up! Just for once being a pervert has some use..." the Doctor growled, blushing a little. "But this means that you're in serious danger. He didn't approach you these last days because the damage to the ship kept him busy. But you won't be spared much longer. You have to think of something to keep him at bay..."
"I'll come up with a plan. Don't worry me now, I was in a good mood." And leaning over him, Kirk kissed him right on the scar, at the level of the eyebrow. McCoy shuddered a little, and a sigh escaped him.
"I never… I never thought I'd see someone… do that." he muttered, moved. "Of course I don't see much in that sector, heh!"
"You have such a beautiful blue eye... I guess two of them were too much beauty for this universe, and that's why you had to lose one."
"Your pick-up lines stink even more than your massages!" groaned McCoy.
Kirk giggled and pushed him back until he was lying on the bed. He melted with him into a kiss, before standing up for a moment to remove his clothes.
With his eye half-closed and his arm stretched over his head, showing Kirk that armpit he had played with earlier, McCoy looked sensual, a strange mix of perversion and vulnerability. He was lying on his back, with his legs slightly apart, giving Kirk a good idea of what he was expecting.
This time, as he slowly entered him, their mouths joined in an endless kiss, Kirk had the feeling that something had fundamentally changed.
For the first time, he wasn't fucking him. He was making love to him.
The next day, Spock was called to sickbay in one of his rare free moments. The plan to keep him away from Kirk was, logically, to make the latter as disgusting as possible for Spock. Kirk disliked the idea greatly. All that sexual stuff with Spock disgusted him. He was Spock, for God's sake! Even if he wasn't the same, he still had the face of his beloved friend. And having to talk about this with him... Still, it was the best thing that had occurred to both of them.
When the Admiral entered, Kirk waited sitting on one of the beds, while McCoy took off some surgical gloves with a dismayed expression.
"What's the problem, Doctor? I trust it has nothing to do with Kirk's head injury." snapped Spock, casting a sidelong look at the aforementioned.
"No, no, it's nothing like that, Admiral! His head is perfect." McCoy reassured him, and then, with a conspiratorial glance around, as if to make sure that there was no one else in sickbay, he added: "If I called you, it's because I just did an analysis on Kirk and... Well, it seems that he has an infection of sexual origin. Probably contracted during our visit to Argelius II. Due to the nature of your… uh… relationship with Kirk, it was my duty to warn you."
Spock's eyebrow rose to the edge of his bangs.
"And what disease is it?"
"Uh… Argelian syphilis. Very contagious. Dangerous if not discovered soon (which luckily hasn't happened). I trust that since our visit to the planet, you and he have not…"
"Of course not. And anyway, Doctor, you already knew that. Considering that you spy on us every time we do it." Spock's slight sarcastic smile left McCoy frozen. "However, I'm surprised that you only made an analysis on him, since I'm not aware of a general check-up of the crew being scheduled. Why this particular interest in Kirk's sexual health?"
McCoy scratched his neck, and bounced nervously on the balls of his feet a couple of times.
"I... eh... I started to get suspicious when... I found certain symptoms in my... private parts." he admitted, lowering his head as if he wanted the earth to swallow him. "Since I haven't had intercourse with anyone else... by process of elimination, it had to be Kirk who infected me."
Spock's smile turned icy.
"I'm aware of your little amorous affairs with my lover, Doctor. I don't need more details. Does Kirk show all those symptoms too?"
That was the most dangerous point of the plan. That Spock tried to see for himself the extent of the damage. McCoy came forward, trying to save the situation. They had been talking about Kirk as if he weren't even there, and it had to stay that way.
"Oh no! Kirk's very strong. He hasn't yet shown any symptoms. I, on the other hand... Ugh! How could I explain? There's this greenish fluid that oozes out every time I... Well, you might want to see it." And McCoy pretended to drop his pants in front of him.
Spock had gone so pallid, that his cheeks had taken on a yellowish tint. "Ooze," in that context, was a word that inspired to him the most Dantesque visions of corrupted flesh. Raising his hand, he stopped the Doctor before it was too late.
"It won't be necessary! It's alright, McCoy. How long will Kirk be in treatment until the danger of infection has passed? That's all I need to know."
"Uh… About 20 days." It was more than enough time to escape from there.
"Understood. Please keep me informed of any changes." Spock cast an incriminating look at Kirk, who shrank in his seat shyly, and a grimace of ill-concealed disgust at McCoy. Before leaving sickbay, he turned one last time and added: "You know, Doctor? A less logical mind than mine would have suggested to you, that this is a punishment for all your vices and your dissolute life. I, of course, don't believe in retribution from heaven. But anyway... Consider this."
And he left, at a martial pace. Once alone, Kirk and McCoy burst out laughing, and hugged each other to celebrate the plan's success. Kirk gave him a brief kiss, which tasted to him like coffee, and cigarettes, and even an aftertaste of brandy already in the morning.
"Well, Jim. You're now officially a pariah. Congratulations on your syphilis. After this, Spock won't even want to come within ten feet of you." mocked McCoy, making his partner laugh.
"I don't know if I like to be thought of as a pariah. But it will do for now. However... you took a big gamble when you offered to show Spock your infection. What would have happened if he had said yes? He would have seen that everything was a lie."
McCoy dismissed that possibility with a scornful wave of his hand.
"You don't know this Spock as well as I do. He's obsessed with purity, perfection. I knew this stuff would repulse him too much to want to see it. Moreover, he surely believed that the mere sight of it could infect him."
"Yeah..." Kirk scratched his head, thoughtfully. "It's curious. This Spock has lived without the influence of human emotions, without a close relationship with his Kirk or with you, unlike my Spock. And yet, how illogical he has turned out to be!"
"Ironies..."
The remaining days before reaching the Regulus system passed without incident. Kirk took advantage of his daily maintenance work to carefully study the ship's schematics. Details that, as Captain of the Enterprise, weren't in his normal sphere of responsibility.
From the fifth deck, where sickbay and his own quarters were, he plotted a route through the ventilation shafts to the nearest transporter room. Once inside the area of ionic turbulence around Regulus II, he would have to sneak in there, and subdue the transporter operator. The most difficult thing would be to get the operator's collaboration to energize the platform, but McCoy still had that serum that hypnotized people. That would be enough to get his obedience for a few minutes.
Regarding the settings on the console, he still remembered how they were arranged the day he appeared in that other universe, since he had reviewed them with Scotty. The optimist in him crossed his fingers, hoping they'd work both ways…
For the rest, he had to carry out all that escape plan alone. He couldn't implicate McCoy in any way, because McCoy had to keep living in that world, and there was always the possibility of being discovered. If Kirk fell, he must do it alone.
As for his wound, the stitches were removed a couple of weeks later. And indeed, he was left with a visible whitish scar, which went up his forehead and entered a little into his bangs, where his hair hadn't yet grown back around the shaved strip. He felt fine, although from time to time, he noticed certain headaches. As if a strange pressure was trying to enter his head, not from outside but... from inside his brain?
At first, Kirk thought it was some side-effect of the accident. But shortly after, something happened that made him reconsider the origin of those headaches.
The day they finally reached the Regulus system, Kirk managed to sneak to the observation deck. Normally, he wasn't allowed near there. But the Enterprise was in orbit around Regulus IV, and most of the crew had been given shore leave. Spock had to attend several official events and protocol visits, for which he didn't need to show Kirk around. The planet had been a Vulcan colony before falling under the rule of the Empire, so its logical inhabitants wouldn't have been pleased with such a circus. They would still be there for a couple of days, before leaving for Regulus II, now just a stone's throw away.
Thus, the ship was very quiet, and Kirk was able to enjoy a few moments of solitude in the observatory. In the distance, the triple star of Regulus winked its heterochromatic eyes at him. A big eye, blue and beautiful like his lover's, accompanied by two smaller orange lights. The planets closest to the star were just specks of dust. Kirk believed he could discern a nebulous, pearly mass around the second planet. His long-awaited ion storm? Although perhaps it was just a trick of perception.
It had been more than a month since he had contemplated the beauty of space, locked up as he was in his handful of allowed places. He was overcome by that feeling of loneliness, part sadness and part awe, that he always felt when looking at the mysterious lights outside. Those were the scenarios that had captured him since he was young, like the siren's song to a sailor. And he could never turn his back on them. He had to carry that blessing (or curse?) always, wandering among the stars, until he crashed on a rock, at the last frontier of his life. Kirk knew he could never retire. Never for real.
Then suddenly, he felt a terrible assault on his mind, and an intrusive voice pulling him out of his reverie:
"Captain… Captain?"
"Spock!?" thought Kirk, startled.
That was the voice of the real Spock, HIS Spock! Speaking to him through a mind link, even in that strange universe. And, as if he had heard that thought, recognizing his voice, Spock continued:
"Captain, you're in great dang... (interference)... not being able to return!"
"What is it about, Spock!? Please talk to me!"
"I can't keep… (more interference)… Time is running out. Captain… (the weak link was unraveling)… escape from there… I suggest that…"
There was silence, and the feeling of pressure in Kirk's head grew fainter.
"Spock!? Spock!" he shouted from the floor, where he had slipped, and without realizing that he was speaking out loud.
Nobody answered. It had been a single moment, a second of contact with his own world. But he had already lost it. Perhaps Spock had been trying to contact him all this time, but only now, approaching the ion storm, had the barrier become weak enough for him to reach out.
Kirk rubbed his temples. And he looked again toward the distant star. "Time is running out", "not being able to return". What was Spock trying to warn him about? Those stuttering and ominous words clouded his thoughts.
The star kept winking, was it making fun of him?