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Commander Spock, former First Officer of the ISS Enterprise, sat at the controls of his heavily armored shuttle. He navigated the vast ocean of space on a current of math. The stream of numbers kept him on course from the safety of his father's estate on Vulcan to the unknown confusion on his former ship.
Three months ago he had fled the Enterprise to escape the prospect of arrest by agents of the Empire government. A message had fortuitously appeared on his computer. A coded missive from Dag Jaystrom, a highly placed minion of the current emperor. As Spock had access to all codes, he quickly read the order. Captain Kirk was to arrest and hold one traitorous Vulcan. Currently, arrest in the Empire was an automatic guilty verdict sending in two possible punishments- death or incarceration ending in death. How they had learned he worked against their repressive regime he still did not know. It was one of the reasons he had agreed to return to the ship and take control of a rapidly changing situation. A computer blip gained substance, a starship hanging in the limitless dark. The I.S.S Enterprise shimmered before him, hull lights illuminating nacelles and showing dark scoring of phaser fire on her white belly.
"I'm receiving an answer to our hail," the shuttle pilot said. "They're giving us co-ordinates for docking, sir."
Spock glanced at the pilot. Mats Borman was an earnest Terran of nineteen standard years with hair the color of scrubbed carrots. He had volunteered to pilot the craft and Spock had found no politic way to refuse. Reliance upon his Vulcan operatives alone was going to be a difficult habit to break.
"Very well, Ensign," Spock said. "Signal our readiness to board."
"Aye, sir."
Spock leaned back and watched the pale expanse of the starship fill the view screen. There seemed to be no extensive damage. This despite the reports of conflict between crew loyal to the current regime and those, like himself, opposed it.
The Enterprise was now a tempting to become a rebel ship and he was needed to lead the crew of co-conspirators against the Empire. Now he was the captain of the ship—a position he had neither sought nor desired but the rebellion demanded sacrifices of them all.
There were also questions. The most important question was why Spock remained alive to ask them. Only one man held those answers and Spock was here to assure that he gave them.
The shuttle entered the ship; the bay doors closed behind it. Light suffused the port windows bringing back the illusion that space was simply harmless darkness. Borman settled the craft with a spine jarring thump. The red-haired youth cursed and looked embarrassed at his less than elegant landing.
"Well done, Ensign." Spock said. "We have arrived safely and in good time."
Terrans, he had learned, responded to positive reinforcement more favorably than negative.
Commander Scott stood waiting as Spock and his two operatives exited the shuttle bay. The engineer's face was drawn and his uniform disheveled.
"Spock. Thank the gods you've arrived, man. There are too few of us to be holding this ship. Maybe you can straighten out this mess." The engineer walked towards the turbo lift, clearly in no mood for social exchanges. "I'll take you to engineering. Those computer glitches are beyond me. Damn him!"
"Precisely how did this damage occur, Commander?" Spock looked at the engineer.
"Did they no tell ye'?" Scott said. "I thought..."
"I read the report, Mister Scott. However, I prefer to hear it from you, as you were on the scene. From the beginning if you please."
Spock's operatives reached the turbolift first. Solan, the senior of the two, put out his hand barring Scott's entry. The doors slid apart, the operatives waited for Spock. Although the new order eschewed the use of operatives old ways died hard. Solan had been with Spock for twenty-five years and he was still more than a match for any red shirt.
"Well, " Scott said as the lift moved. "We picked up a blip from an unauthorized ship near Gauda Prime. We gave chase. It was pretty clear it was one of the rebellion ships. Those old destructor class ships leave a hell of an ion trail. " The turbo was redolent with body odors and the undertone of burned wiring. " Anyway, they tried ziggin' and zaggin' but you know how canny the captain can be when he smells blood. It was never in doubt who'd be catching who."
Scott sighed deeply. The lift slowed as it neared its destination.
"We were lucky having so many of our people on that duty shift. We were sweating, I can tell you. If we destroyed the New Hope we’d stay secret and safe. If we saved the rebels we’d be out in the open. The captain gave the command to fire and that's when we acted against him." He rubbed his mouth nervously. "It was so close. The fools on the New Hope began to fire on us, so that helped us make the decision. Mitchell and his men joined with us and turned the tide."
Spock looked at the exhausted engineer. "Did Mister Mitchell give any reason for his unexpected change of heart?" Spock believed it was a stretch of credence that Mitchell was open to appeals to his better nature. Or if he even had one.
"Nay, but I didna' ask. Without him and his we'd not been takin' the Enterprise.”
Doors swooshed aside to reveal Scott's domain of steel and plastics. Power throbbed and hummed under foot and in the air. Spock found himself remembering that the captain had once remarked that engineering was like being inside a contented cat. Spock had a brief image of a flashing smile and bright hazel eyes. He gave himself a mental shake. Now was not the time to lose his focus. He followed Scott in silence past the dented and streaked walls. Fighting here must have been fierce.
The engineer stopped at a console. "This is where the captain was finally caught," he said. "He held this auxiliary comp room until we managed to drill a hole in the damn plates and lob in a stun grenade." Scott walked over and laid a hand on a section of the console. A thin ribbon of melted plastics decorated the armrest. “He had ten or fifteen minutes most, but he screwed up the computer codes well and good. All our commands are dead. He says that if we fire the warp engines the ship will blow and I believe him. I've tried getting past the captain's overrides but they keep kicking in and startin' the damned countdown. I've been trying to clear his codes out of the computer but I daren't fuck about with it anymore."
Spock sat at the console avoiding the ruined and exposed circuitry. The computer lights blinked red and the warp unit lay cold and silent. In order to stall for time, records and messages from the Enterprise continued to inform Empire headquarters that all was well. But when Uhura's resourcefulness ran out the only true safety would be in distance. That lay with the warp engines. The warp engines were ruled by the computer codes. Those codes were in the head of James Kirk, captured captain of the Enterprise.
He turned to the waiting engineer. "What was the base line when you began interfering in the system?"
"Nineteen minutes. What Kirk thought he could do in the time, I dinna know."
Spock pondered for a moment. Kirk had set a delay of nineteen minutes. Mister Scott was correct. Where could he go in that time? What was he planning? Why not use his code overrides and blow up the ship immediately if destruction was his goal?
"He must have been hopin' for a support ship to arrive." Scott said.
"Illogical. He knew precisely how far off assistance was. Nineteen minutes would not provide sufficient delay."
The Vulcan mind raced. Computers were simple to understand. Humans were not. Especially James Kirk. What had the devious Terran been trying to do?
"Go back to your business, Mister Scott. Solan will aid me here."
The engineer gave a nod. "Aye, I've enough to keep me busy. There are one hundred and eight people confined to the hanger deck, and a right mess it’s gettin' in there."
"Then the sooner I am able to provide a speedy exit, the sooner one problem can be solved," Spock said.
Spock was already deep in concentration even before the engineer had left. Kirk's mind was uncharted territory with neither clear maps nor landmarks. The Vulcan had grown increasingly intrigued by the handsome human who had entered his life one point four years previously. Brutal and generous, paranoid and playful, the human proved unpredictable and unfathomable. However, the more time Spock spent with this dangerous and beautiful enigma the more he wanted to unravel the riddle of the human that was Kirk.
Spock sat looking at the console and gathered his thoughts. He had to decipher the codes that the crafty human had used to foul the computer systems. This would not be easy.
Shortly after the crew from the alternate universe had returned to their world, Spock had begun to seriously consider the 'other' Kirk's words. Another world with an alternate Spock and an alternate Kirk. Alternates to the violence and coercion that Spock had always assumed were realities akin to the laws of physics.
The possibility of changing these laws had struck him as he looked into the 'other' Kirk's eyes. They held an honesty and directness he had never before seen. Then, two months later, he had glimpsed the same honesty hidden deeply in the depths of his own Kirk's eyes.
It had given Spock a visceral jolt to compare those eyes. Both hazel, both beautiful, but his Kirk's were tainted with years of cynicism, cruelty and coercion from his life in the Empire. Suddenly Spock saw why the Empire had to end. It had perverted or destroyed all in its quest for power. In that other Kirk's eyes, he had glimpsed what his own Kirk could have been. What his world could have been. What he himself could have been.
From that moment on, Spock of Vulcan had wanted to create a new world. He made inquiries, sent messages, kept rendezvous. A surprising find had been Chou Ting in Security and Nord Aarnsen in Records, both in poorly organized anti-government movements. Spock had put order and direction to the effort. His personal influence had also committed Vulcan to the rebellion.
The lights on the console flashed chaotically before his eyes. His fingers ran swiftly over the switches and toggles.
An hour later he sat back with a grim smile. It had taken all his considerable skill and training to unlock the codes. Kirk was more skilled with a computer than even Spock had realized. A cunning overlay program had kept Spock from realizing that he was not even in the data base. Once the shadow program was eliminated, so was the threat of destruction. Kirk's sabotage had been clever but it only raised more questions. With this level of skill, Kirk could have severely damaged the ship. Why only disable the warp engines?
Spock rose from the station, and crossed to the comm button on the wall panel.
"Mister Scott," he said into the speaker, "you may start the impulse engines. Begin inter-mixing at your discretion."
"You cleared the damn engines?" Scott's voice said. "I can have the matter/antimatter flowing inside of three hours. We can be at Alpha Canopis in fifteen hours and we'll unload that hanger deck of Empire trash and be gone."
"I did not say that warp drive was fully functional, Commander. There is still an over ride in the program. However, I deem it wise to get underway. I will attempt to regain full warp capabilities. I will need to interrogate Kirk. I assume that he is in the brig."
Scott’s silence was total and ominous. Spock felt an unexpected jolt at the possibility that Kirk was injured or worse, dead.
Spock heard the engineer clear his throat. "The reports indicated that he was captured and under arrest." Spock's heart quickened.
"He's not aboard." Scott said.
"Precisely where is he then, Engineer?”
"He was too dangerous to keep!" The engineer's voice raised an octave. "We didna' know what to do with him!"
"And so you did what?"
"Mitchell said he could hold him and get those codes so we sent him to the Hope." Scott paused. "Damn it, Vulcan!" he yelled. "You wer' no here. We wanted him off the ship!"
"I will not ignore this lack of judgment." Spock's voice was ice. "Do not engage the warp engines until I have Kirk aboard and secured. Prepare to hail the New Hope."
He clicked off. Spock knew that Mitchell was the true cause of the difficulty. Mitchell had most likely boasted that he could control Kirk. Few would be capable of controlling the dynamic human. Signaling to Solan to follow, Spock turned with alacrity for the bridge.
The doors opened and Spock entered the bridge. Consoles stood dismantled, circuits exposed. Uhura sat on the floor wielding a tri-harmonic spanner as a crewman rushed by carrying cables and fusers.
Exhaustion, welcome and other expressions followed the prodigal Vulcan's progress across the bridge to the command chair. Spock looked about the damaged bridge. Kirk's presence was palpable; phaser fire had demolished the command computer.
"Have you contacted the New Hope, Lieutenant?" Spock asked Uhura. He had always considered the communications expert a valuable ally.
"He just signed off," she answered in a tone that Spock feared did not mean welcome news.
"When will Kirk be sent over?"
"Captain Stern says he can't send Kirk to you," she said. "He says he has orders."
"Indeed? Did he indicate who gave these orders?" Irritation crept into his voice.
Uhura looked at him in sympathy. "He says Mitchell told him to hold Kirk, so he's holding him."
Enough. That name had intruded for the last time.
"Notify the transporter, Lieutenant," he said. "Mister Stern can explain his orders directly to me."
Spock stood and left, irritation growing at this continuing tangle and delay.
Spock, his operative and the shuttle pilot Borman shimmered onto the New Hope. The ensign behind the transporter console shifted nervously from foot to foot. He clearly had no orders about his visitors.
The three men waited on the platform until the doors slid aside to reveal a thin man wearing captain's stripes. If a crew reflects the capabilities of its commander, Spock believed Stern's tenure would be brief. If not for circumstances, Kirk would assuredly have added Stern's atoms to the cosmic dust cloud.
"First Officer Spock," the ersatz captain said. "An honor. Unexpected, but still an honor." He wiped his hand upon slacks that may once have been grey before extending it to the Vulcan. It dangled in the air unshaken.
"I am curious, Mister Stern," Spock said. "When you were issued orders by the Empire, did you disobey them?"
"I have disobeyed no orders!" The thin lips firmed and the small eyes narrowed to slits. His stance needed only coils and a hiss to complete the picture.
"Indeed," Spock said. "Perhaps you have been caught up in the egalitarian spirit of the rebellion and have confused my orders with a request."
Two sets of dark eyes clashed. A heartbeat later the Terran ones slid aside, his will no stronger than his command skills.
"I had orders. I obeyed them." Stern recited the litany of the mediocre.
"You have new orders, Captain." Spock allowed the title. "I want James Kirk. Now."
"He's in the brig." A subdued Stern slouched to the console and snapped a toggle. "This is Captain Stern. Bring Kirk to the transporter room immediately."
Silence greeted the command. Moving to the console, Spock pushed the flustered and embarrassed human aside.
"This is Commander Spock," he said. "I am in the transporter room. If Captain Kirk is not here immediately, I will come down there and get him."
"Mister Spock," Mitchell's voice sounded. "Didn't know you were aboard. When did you get here?" The navigator's cheerfulness sounded doubly false through the tinny speaker.
"The question, Mister Mitchell, is when is James Kirk getting here?"
"Well, I was hoping to finish up with my questioning," came the answer. "He has a lot of info that we're gonna need."
"Most admirable. However, I believe that I am capable of questioning any prisoner. Moreover, I have the authority."
A pause. "Of course you do. I'll get him ready and send him over."
"Now. I will wait only so long."
In a brief time the doors slid open. Mitchell and four men wearing the Enterprise insignia dragged a very uncooperative James Kirk into the room. With his hands bound behind him, barefoot and disheveled, Kirk looked young and powerless. Spock was not deceived.
One of the hulks tossed Kirk against the console. A dangerous glare lit the hazel eyes and Spock was momentarily lost in their beauty.
"Prisoner retrieved and delivered as ordered, sir." Mitchell sketched a salute as he walked slowly forward. "Sorry for the misunderstanding."
Mitchell seemed sincere. Spock believed it at the same level that he believed in alchemy.
"Mister Borman, assist my operative in securing the prisoner for transport." Spock said as he moved to the console. He had always found it wise to prepare for speedy exit from enemy territory.
"Won't you need permission to board my ship, Vulcan?" Kirk set his gleaming hazel eyes on Spock.
Borman glanced at the belligerent human and looked to Solan for support, instruction or perhaps protection.
"I already have permission, Human," Spock said. "As I now command the Enterprise."
Past and present commanders stared at each other. Spock looked down into fiery eyes that were a maelstrom of emotion. For a moment he was lost in those depths. He wondered what those eyes would look like lit with some gentler emotion.
Mitchell broke the stalemate. "I'd toss him in the brig if I was planning on keeping that command, Spock."
Spock saw it in Kirk's eyes a moment before it surfaced. Mitchell however, did not. A bare foot lashed out and caught the navigator full in the groin. Mitchell collapsed with an agonized cry, his hands between his thighs.
All the operatives moved toward Kirk. Solan pointed his stunner at Mitchell's men and they froze in place. Borman pulled Kirk onto the transporter pad, out of everyone's reach.
"Enough." Spock's voice rang out. "Put your weapons away."
Slowly, everyone complied. The only sound was Mitchell moaning softly on the deck.
"Take Mister Mitchell to sickbay." Spock said. "Mister Stern, prepare for transport."
A bulky ensign helped Mitchell gain his feet. The lieutenant had recovered sufficiently to scowl at Kirk.
"I pay my debts, Mitchell." Kirk's voice was low and soft.
Spock admired the total lack of fear in the beautiful face. Few men could present a threat while barefoot and bound but if he were Mitchell, he would be scanning his recent past for his debt tally.
Mitchell must have felt a similar unease, for he had no retort and left the room with his operatives in tow. Spock watched as the crewmen left with much less bravado than they had arrived. Stern hovered in nervous doubt near the transporter operator. Both men were skilled at becoming scarce when their superiors began pulling out weapons.
"Take positions, we are transporting," Spock said. "Captain, I suggest you decide who is in control of this ship and have that person take her to a secure base as quickly as possible."
Stern nodded sullenly. Spock stood beside the rest of his party. He felt Kirk's eyes upon him.
Kirk radiated rage and power, beauty and danger. It was insanity to keep him alive, but Spock knew that he was becoming increasingly addicted to this form of insanity. He also knew that he would never let Kirk go.
***
Spock waited only long enough to be certain of his corporeal state before leaving the transporter pad. Technician Kyle stood aside as Spock leaned over the console and switched the comm line.
"Mister Scott, you may prepare to leave this area. Set a course for Alpha Canopis."
"Aye, sir. We can move off at impulse power in ten minutes. And, Mister Spock, your quarters are empty if you’re wantin’ them again.”
"Very good, Commander. I will be on the bridge."
Spock turned back to the group still on the transporter pad. Kirk's eyes were fixed upon him. Spock could almost feel their heat.
"Captain Kirk, you will accompany Solan and Stelin," he nodded toward another slim Vulcan who stood beside Kyle. "I will not waste my time attempting to confine you in a brig of your own construction. However, I warn you against any action you may be considering. Solan will not hesitate to use force."
Kirk stood straight. No emotion passed his eyes. Suddenly he smiled. Spock basked in its brilliance as he steeled himself against its charm. That charismatic smile had often been a prelude to dark acts.
"Whatever you say, Commander. Or should I call you captain?"
Spock had no intention of being maneuvered into a verbal skirmish with this man.
"What you call me is of no importance. Please follow Solan without any further delay."
The smile slipped slightly but Kirk stepped down without comment.
"You seem to be in charge, Vulcan." Kirk said as he stood before his former second in command. "But situations have a way of changing."
"I shall endeavor to keep that in mind.” Spock turned to Solan “Take him to my quarters.”
Spock's foray to the bridge was brief, only long enough to issue orders that hopefully kept the ship one step from total collapse and two steps ahead of detection.
"I shall be in my quarters, Lieutenant." Spock stood beside Uhura. Her eyes asked the questions that the crew was too cowed to ask. "Captain Kirk is aboard. He is being secured and will soon provide the requisite access codes to resolve our difficulties."
Her relief was palpable. Spock noted the ease with which the crew appeared to accept this fiction. As Kirk had been their commanding officer for nearly two years, Spock could only hope their grasp of their jobs was firmer than the one they had of Kirk's character.
Upon entering his former quarters Spock felt a sense of unease. The unobtrusive ventilation systems hummed and pulsed. A hint of staleness cloyed the air and a chill crept into his bones. His immaculate desk and computer remained untouched. Although gratified that the rooms remained unoccupied, a cold loneliness permeated as though he had entered a tomb.
His steps made no sound as he passed into his work area over carpets of incalculable worth and myriad color. On the wall behind his workstation was an array of objects that he had not dared hope to see again. He ran a hand across a lyre, which hung from its peg. He had regretted leaving the instrument and had envisioned it in the hands of some of Kirk's operatives. He feared to think of his ancient weapons and heirlooms as plundered loot.
But all his belongings remained intact as though he had only stepped away for a few hours. The only explanation seemed to be that Kirk was responsible.
Spock stepped into the dim bedroom, and signaled for more light. Solan stood beside the tapestried wall adjacent to a thickly comforted bed. On this bed Kirk, still bound, sat slumped against the wall. Spock's heart surged at the sight of the bruised and weary look of his former captain. Kirk quickly sat up straight, flashing those brilliant hazel eyes.
Reluctantly, Spock looked away from Kirk. "Has he given you any difficulty?" He asked Solan.
"He presented no difficulty with which it I could not deal."
"Very well," Spock said to his most trusted operative. "Locate suitable living quarters for Stelin and yourself. Select something comparable but there is to be a minimum of disruption. You may go."
Solan's brows arched into his hairline. "You can not mean to be here alone, my Lord?"
"I will not be alone." Spock watched as Solan's eyes widened. "Captain Kirk means me no harm."
Solan started to protest, but Kirk spoke up.
"That's the least logical thing I've ever heard you say, Vulcan." Kirk's voice was cold.
"I must agree, Lord. He is a danger to you."
"If he wished me ill," Spock said, " I would be dead already."
Kirk's eyes blazed. "I can change that any time, Mister."
Spock stared into the hazel eyes. He was amazed at the variety of color in them. Almost as many emotions seemed to slide through their depths. Spock looked for some sign of the decent man he knew inhabited that mind and body. A recess of his heart dared hope for some sign of affection.
As if sensing the Vulcan's quest, Kirk glanced away.
"Get this over with, Spock." The human's voice was filled with weariness.
Spock turned to Solan. "Leave us." His operative nodded and left the room.
Spock looked at the human on his bed. His pulse raced at the sight of golden skin. So many times some version of this sight had intruded on his meditation.
"Are you injured?"
"Go to hell."
"Could you not say that we are already in it?"
Kirk's lips curled. "Hell is where the heart is."
"Captain, give me the computer access codes. Get us all out of this situation without any more needless deaths."
"Who am I to decide what deaths are needless?"
"I can take what I want, Kirk."
Kirk's smile was a line etched in ice. "I see. The Empire fucks with my body and you fuck with my mind. Thank you for making the difference between you so clear."
"No matter how tempting that sounds, I will fuck neither your body nor your mind." He ran fingertips gently across the pale and sweaty cheek. "I truly mean you no harm."
Kirk was still, frozen as if listening to some sound inaudible to Spock. Suddenly he recoiled, his back and head striking the wall.
"Like hell, you don't! You've got my damn ship!" Fury radiated from him like a whirlwind. "You ran off and left me."
Spock could feel the anger but sensed a betrayal he had not considered before. Was this the source of Kirk's rage? Spock wanted to believe that Kirk's anger stemmed as much from the loss of his first officer as of his ship. However, he had learned long ago that the universe was under no obligation to conform to his wishes.
"You knew that I would leave," Spock said. "You keyed the message to my computer in full knowledge that I would see it and flee the ship. Your action saved my life."
"You’re fucking imagining, Vulcan."
Spock pulled over a chair and kept the solid back between his groin and Kirk's feet. He straddled the seat in front of Kirk. A fine tremor moved the sweat on the fair skin like a shake of silk.
"Why do you insist on denying that you acted out of concern for me? Why will you not acknowledge the decency that is inside you?" Spock reached out again cupping Kirk's cheek and felt the damp warmth against his hand.
"Don't tell me what I should feel. Don't tell me who I am!" The human pulled away but without the previous violence. "You don't know me, Spock." He said quietly.
"Could I not learn?" He stroked the pale face again feeling the fine texture while reconfirming the unnatural heat his fingers had detected.
"Why don't you concentrate on your own problems? That should keep you occupied." The hazel eyes closed, the thick lashes resting on pale cheeks.
"Are you unwell?" Spock asked, concerned about the unusual warmth of the human's skin.
The bright eyes snapped open. "Fuck you! Unwell! You damn Vulcan!"
Spock's cautious juxtaposition of the chair proved fortuitous as Kirk's foot cracked against it with bone jarring force. Spock went sprawling. Kirk erupted from the bed, and stumbled as his foot gave beneath his weight, but his momentum brought him across the room and out of the bedroom door.
Spock gathered himself in pursuit. Within seconds he was nearly upon his fleeing quarry. Kirk turned at bay. He backed against the weapon-bedecked wall, his eyes flashing.
"This is pointless, Captain," Spock said calmly. "You can not get out of this room. Do not make me use force."
"Everyone uses force, Spock. You're no different."
Spock had no chance to respond as Kirk launched himself forward.
Stunned, it took Spock a nanosecond to realize that Kirk's hands were free and there was a j'mar blade in one of them. Black cord dangled from Kirk's lacerated wrists, but the hand that wielded the knife was steady.
"What now, Kirk? Where do you think to go?" Spock moved just out of range.
Kirk's smile was acid tinged. "I've got nowhere to go. But that doesn't stop me from trying to get there." He laughed, a sound between pain and despair. "I'm leaving this room and I'm going to get my ship back." He flicked the blade meaningfully. "Don't do anything stupid." He stepped to the side. "And Spock, you might consider removing those weapons from the wall if you plan on holding prisoners in here."
Spock hesitated. Kirk was armed, dangerous and could not be allowed to leave. There was no doubt in Spock's mind that he could disarm the tired and probably ill human. The question was the degree of injury to one or both of them.
Random chance favored Spock. The buzzer sounded at the door and drew Kirk's eyes away for a fraction of a second. That was all the time needed. His hand slashed at Kirk's, and knocked the blade aside. Spock delivered a nerve pinch before Kirk could muster more than a token defense.
Spock held Kirk's unconscious body as it slumped forward. The contours fit as if designed for being held in his arms. He had imagined holding this man in his arms but as usual the wish and the reality had little in common.
A few steps brought him back into the bedroom. Kirk was again deposited on the deep maroon covers. Spock brushed the hair from the human’s eyes. He marveled at the disparity between the soft beauty of Kirk's exterior and the steely grit of his interior. Was it true that what was beautiful must also be good? Was he seeing something that was not there, an ethical mirage? No. He had followed the dual paths of logic and emotion. Both had led him to Kirk.
The buzzer sounded again. Spock warred between annoyance at the interruption and gratitude for it.
He took a moment to gain his composure. However, he knew that his composure would be short lived.
Once more the buzzer sounded. Finally, Spock left Kirk and went to deal with the persistent caller.
The door swished open. McCoy stood on the other side. The doctor jumped back as the two officers found themselves inches apart.
“Why are you here, Doctor?” Spock asked.
McCoy shifted from foot to foot. “Heard the captain was here. I am the doctor, Spock. I should check him out.”
“I have no objection.” Spock stepped aside but McCoy remained in the hall.
“Where are those sneaky guards of yours?” McCoy peered into Spock’s quarters.
“My family retainers are securing quarters.” The Vulcan gestured McCoy forward. “And they do not sneak.”
“No offense, Spock.”
“None taken, Doctor. The captain is in here.”
Spock was relieved to have medical attention for Kirk, even if from the occasionally inebriated doctor. McCoy crossed to the bed and pulled out his medical scanner as he sat beside the prone figure.
Spock watched the doctor’s hands run across the still body. Seeing the usually indomitable human so vulnerable was disturbing. He watched as someone else touched the body he had longed to caress.
“Your diagnosis, Doctor?”
“He’ll live.” McCoy applied a hypo to Kirk’s shoulder. “Won’t be comfortable, but that hasn’t killed him before.”
“I believe I detected a fever.” Spock said.
“Well, he’s had a lousy few days. Dehydration, bruising and ...” McCoy glanced aside, “general rough handling.”
“Precisely what does that mean, Doctor?” Spock said. He had been told that Kirk had been on the New Hope in Mitchell’s hands for at least 32 hours.
“Just what I said.” McCoy stood. “I’m leaving an antibiotic for eight hours from now. Assuming he’s still here. There’s also a tranc for when he wakes and decides he ain’t staying in here.”
Spock stood aside to allow McCoy to leave. They entered the anteroom.
“If it’s not out of line, Spock. What next?”
“Even you are capable of formulating a more coherent question, Doctor.”
“OK. The captain’s not on the Hope, he’s not in the brig and from what I can see, you can’t keep him in here.” He waved his hand about the cabin. “You’ve got a tiger by the tail, Spock and there’re only two solutions. You let go and run like hell or you shoot him and get on with your life.” McCoy stood on the threshold. “I personally think it’s a hell of a rebellion if we’re discussin’ taking Jim Kirk out of this world and leaving crud like Mitchell in it.”
Spock contemplated McCoy’s statement for several moments after the doctor had departed. He agreed with the assessment of their situation but not the solution. Kirk’s death was not an option.
The thought of Kirk brought him back to the bedroom where the human lay sprawled. Spock sat on the bed and admired the handsome face. It was a pleasant activity and one he hoped to be able to do more often.
Bronze lashes fluttered and hazel eyes opened. Terran and Vulcan stared at each other for several heartbeats.
“What now, Spock?” Kirk finally asked.
“That is what McCoy asked.”
“I won’t give you those codes. I’m not staying here.”
Spock smiled. “ McCoy also said that.”
“Then he’s not the fool he pretends to be.” Kirk said.
Spock brushed damp hair from Kirk’s forehead. “He is not the only one who is other than he pretends to be.”
Kirk watched Spock steadily. His eyes were jade ice. “Don’t start, Spock.”
“Surely you know that we have already started. It is only a question of where we are going from here.”
“We’re not going anywhere.”
“I disagree. We move in synchronized paths. You saved my life and I returned to save yours.”
Kirk continued to gaze steadily at Spock. “Is that why you’re here?”
“Do you believe I would leave the safety of Vulcan for anything less?”
Kirk lay still, “I don’t understand you, Spock.” he said quietly.
Spock picked up a cloth McCoy had left and brushed it against the calm face. “What is it you do not understand? Why I returned for you?”
“Why did you?” Kirk asked, “And don’t give me shit, Spock.” His expression was open. Hope and fear could be seen darting like golden fish in an emerald pond.
“I am concerned for you. Who you are and who you can be.”
“I thought so! It’s that damn alternate crap! I’m not him! I never was and never will be.” Kirk surged upward attempting to push him away. Spock grasped the human’s arms and forced him backwards onto the mattress. The brief struggle left Spock straddling the fiery Terran, pinning his hands above his head.
“Will you listen now?”
Kirk glared. Spock was amazed by the changeable nature.
“I am aware of who you are and it is you I care about,” Spock said.
“Care! Yeah, sure. I can tell by how you share important facts with me. First I knew of anything was that prick Jagston telling me you’re in the damn rebellion! My first officer on my ship and I fucking don’t know! When were you going to mention it to me, Spock?”
Spock gazed down into Kirk’s face. The anger mutated into pain and back again too fast to grasp. The emotions hung in the air between them like a tangible thing, a barrier, or a bridge.
“I feared you.” Spock whispered. “I feared for you.”
They were a heartbeat apart. Spock could resist no longer. Almost beyond his will his lips were dragged downward like a meteor trapped in a gravity well. Contact was an impact sending shock waves coursing to every nerve ending imbedding in his soul.
Kirk lay impassive only the moment it took for his nature to rebel. The human’s lips softened. Spock felt the warmth of the Terran’s breath, tasted the salt of his sweat—a nectar that intoxicated the Vulcan addicting him instantly.
Kirk drew away, leaving his taste on Spock’s lips. Leaving his warmth in the Vulcan soul. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.
“Because I have always wanted to.” He felt the tremor of Kirk’s body beneath his own. “I will proceed no further against your wishes.”
Kirk’s eyes swept Spock as if seeking the truth of that statement. “You’re crazy, Spock. You know that, don’t you?”
“If it is madness to want you, then I will gladly declare myself insane.”
“I’ve been wanted before, Spock.” Kirk said softly.
“Not as I want you.” Spock leaned forward and brought his lips to Kirk’s again. This time he put all the facets of his wanting into the kiss. He felt Kirk’s hand touch his shoulder and the lips mold themselves to his.
The communication console began a relentless call for Spock’s attention. He withdrew from the haven of soft lips. Kirk’s expression was in a language with which Spock was not yet fluent. Was it doubt or confusion he saw in the handsome face?
“Spock, I don’t think...”
The comm console chirped again. If it were McCoy again, the doctor’s next signal would be sent from the other side of an airlock.
“I shall be back directly,” he breathed. “Remain as you are.”
Spock entered the anteroom and flicked the comm line with a force just short of snapping it. “Spock, here.”
“Solan, Lord. I am reporting as ordered.”
` “Do so.” Spock said. His mind was still on the man awaiting him in the next room, while another part of his mind ran an inventory of possible weapons Kirk could use against him.
“Lieutenant Mitchell and his two operatives have returned from the New Hope.”
That statement brought his mind sharply into focus. “And?”
“They went to Rec Room Three where they were met by four more individuals known to be loyal to him. I could not get close enough to overhear them and still remain unobserved.”
“You have done well. Proceed.”
“They left four minutes ago in two groups. Stelin is watching one and the young Terran volunteered to follow the other so that I could report to you.”
Spock paused. Mitchell, Stern and Kirk... all on the Hope and now two of them here. Also, Stern had not yet departed the area. The New Hope still paralleled their course. Serving with Kirk had given Spock a healthy respect for paranoia.
“Use as many men as needed to assure that neither of those groups is unattended,” he said. “Report any move toward either the bridge or engineering.”
“It shall be as you order.”
Spock turned back to the part of the puzzle awaiting him in the next room.
Kirk stood in the bathroom doorway, shirt in hand. His bare chest gleamed with a sheen of sweat. Spock noted the bruised torso, like stains on fine silk. He noticed the slight line of rib and taut pull across cheekbones that bespoke of little food and less sleep in recent days. A lesser being would have collapsed. Spock admired the determination that kept the Terran on his feet. He also reminded himself that a tiger at bay is dangerous.
Kirk leaned against the doorjamb.
“No rest for the wicked, hey Spock?”
“Why were you on the New Hope?” he began without preamble.
Kirk gave a brief laugh. “Ask Mitchell. It wasn’t my idea.”
“What did he ask you?”
“Oh, this and that. Computer codes, manifests, whereabouts of the first officer. Usual stuff mutineers want to know.” He tilted his head back, lashes casting amazing shadows across the pale cheeks. “I told him what I told you. Not a damn thing.”
That Spock believed. “Why did he take you to the ship?”
“How the hell should I know. To get away from Scott. Get over to Stern.” He gave a slightly stiff shrug. “Who knows.”
Spock was aware of one of Kirk’s more subtle evasive maneuvers. When in difficulty, misdirect as many of your enemies as possible. He could also be giving a warning.
Spock wished that he could rely more certainly on his heart and mind to be in logical agreement. Too much depended on his assessment of Kirk’s intentions.
“Mind if I go ahead and clean up? I stink.”
He slid his hands to his waistband. Offer or diversion Spock didn’t know but he was not fool enough to find out. Half dressed and weaponless, Kirk could never be considered unarmed.
“I believe that I will take your advice and question Mister Mitchell myself. He has been unusually active in behalf of a cause I do not believe he espouses.”
Kirk shrugged. “Any port in a storm, Spock.”
“I am sorry for this action, Captain, but you leave me little choice.” He reached into a compartment and removed a pair of restraint cuffs.
Kirk’s lips twisted. “Interesting bedroom decor, Mister Spock. Your guests usually need to be tied down or are you just a former Boy Guide... always prepared?”
The Human stood his ground as Spock advanced with the restraints. He gently placed one on Kirk’s bandaged wrist. The gold shirt dropped to the floor, the fist clenched. Spock pushed his body against Kirk’s, effectively pinning him to the wall. He reached between their bodies searching for Kirk’s other hand but found himself lingering as fingers touched more sensitive areas. Also more dangerous.
Kirk’s breath caressed his throat. Spock could smell the salty tang of the Terran mingled with unwashed clothing, skin and hair. He pressed his greater mass against Kirk’s trapping both their hands.
The breath became a touch of lips and then the cool hardness of teeth against his throat. Spock felt almost unbearable arousal. With an act of self-control worthy of all the ascetics of Gol, Spock pushed away from the source of his temptation and affixed the cuff to Kirk’s hand.
Kirk leaned heavily against the wall, pupils dilated with desire and rage.
“I shall send someone to see to your needs.” Spock forced out the words.
“Not likely.” Kirk said.
Spock led an unresisting Kirk back to the bed. He secured the cuffs to the corner. The eyes smoldered as they followed Spock’s progress to the comm console.
Spock was amazed to find his hand shaking when he extended it to summon a potential guardian for Kirk. The task seemed an impossible one. Anyone capable of controlling the Terran would be vital if any trouble with Mitchell and his men developed. That made the list a short one.
“I want to clean up, Spock.” Kirk called from the bed.
Spock could well imagine that he did, remembering the musky undertone of Kirk’s scent.
“Spock to McCoy.” The doctor was both committed to the cause and capable of making Kirk more comfortable. He was unmoved by most nude bodies and unwashed ones troubled him not at all.
“McCoy here.”
“Come to the captain’s cabin at once. Bring any supplies you might need to assist in making him more comfortable.”
“Bring bolt cutters.” Kirk yelled.
“Now, Spock?”
“I did say at once. I have business to which I must attend.”
“OK. I’ll be over in a bit.”
“A very brief bit, Doctor.” Spock said
He turned back to Kirk, who did not look comfortable twisted on his side, wrists bound to the bed corner. He did, however, look beautiful. And potentially lethal to the unwary. Spock wondered how he could so desire something he neither fully understood nor controlled.
McCoy was mercifully swift in arriving, leaving Spock just enough time to locate a phaser and reactivate his computer.
With strict instructions to McCoy and a last admonishment to caution, Spock left to meet Solan.
****
As expected, Solan was waiting for Spock on deck six. He appeared more dour than usual.
“What have you to report?” Spock asked
“Ensign Borman has not reported in as scheduled.” Solan stated as they walked toward the turbolift.
“To whom was he assigned?”
“Lieutenant Mitchell.”
Spock stopped walking momentarily at a loss with the thought of the inexperienced youth tailing the crafty senior.
“Mitchell was returning to his quarters. It seemed the wisest at the time to assign the ensign to him,” Solan said. Spock did not question his oldest and most loyal supporter.
Nothing on the ship was truly safe. Spock went to the wall communication unit.
“Ensign Borman, report at once.” Silence. “Security, this is Commander Spock. Locate Ensign Borman and notify me when you have found him.”
He had only released the toggle when the unit crackled to life.
“Chou Ting, sir. Ensign Borman is on deck fifteen. He has been hit with what looks like a Maliuri bow dart.”
This news answered the question of Borman’s missed call-in and how a weapon could have been fired without alerting security. No energy discharge produced no alarm. It was for that security reason that all such weapons had been banned from starships.
“Is the ensign alive?” Spock inquired.
“Yes, sir, but it looks real bad.”
Spock changed circuits. “Sickbay, prepare for an emergency patient.” Another switch pressed, “ Doctor McCoy, report.”
This silence was more ominous. Before he could react another voice came on line.
“Uhura, here, Mister Spock. The New Hope has moved out of synchronized orbit. She seems to be moving under us, sir.”
This was not happy news. “Have you hailed the ship, Lieutenant?”
“I tried, sir, but they’re not answering.”
This situation was rapidly acquiring mass and had begun to roll swiftly downward. It meant decisions also had to be swift. Which was it to be? Locate Mitchell, find McCoy or check on Kirk? The bridge was also now clamoring for his attention. Fortunately as both Vulcan and officer he was able to sort his priorities.
“Mister Scott, to the bridge. Determine what Captain Stern is doing and advise him of the consequences of unwise choices.”
“Aye, sir,” Scott responded.
“Security personnel, this is Commander Spock. Locate Lieutenant Mitchell and detain him.”
“Chou Ting here, sir. On our way.”
Now for the problem closest to Spock’s interest--Kirk. He returned quickly to his quarters. As the lift moved, part of his mind cursed the timing of events. Just a few minutes difference and he would still have been with Kirk. Whether that would have made one less problem or one more he would never know.
Cautiously, Spock entered his quarters. In the dim bedroom he located McCoy, bound and gagged on the bed. McCoy’s life was another proof that although Kirk was dangerous, he was not rabid.
Spock untied the flush-faced doctor.
“I’m sorry, Spock! I’m sorry! He was too damn fast!” McCoy sat up shakily.
“How did he get free?” Spock’s tone was as neutral as he could make it.
“He asked for a shower.” Blue eyes glanced up warily. “He stank, damn it. You know how he hates to be dirty. You said to make him comfortable!”
“I see that he returned the favor.” Spock said. McCoy’s flush deepened. “You are needed in sickbay, Doctor”
“I heard.” McCoy rose unsteadily and straightened his clothes. “What’s happening?”
“I cannot answer that question at present, Doctor. However I can tell you that whatever is occurring, the captain is at the heart of it.”
The two officers left together but separated to solve their respective problems.
Spock had little doubt as to Kirk’s location. Kirk had few options but Spock knew that would not deter the human. He would never stop his quest to regain his ship.
Spock entered the lift. “Deck nineteen,” he ordered.
The Auxiliary computer room was a logical move on Kirk’s part. He still had the access codes that controlled the ship. From that computer Kirk could shut down any or all systems.
The lift moved. It was rare that Spock found himself alone, no guards, no retainers, no enemies or crewmen. A part of him reveled in his momentary solitude. A deeper part cried out for that one presence that might end his isolation forever.
The lift stopped. The corridor he entered was empty, the crewman assigned to the deck missing. The wall unit’s sudden chirp sounded startlingly loud in the unnatural quiet.
“Spock, here.”
“Scott, sir. We’re gettin’ reports of fightin’ in engineering.”
Spock had a moment’s doubt that he had guessed wrong about Kirk’s locale and intent. No. He could almost feel Kirk’s presence nearby.
“How serious does it appear to be, Commander?”
“Hard to ken, but Ting tried to arrest one of Mitchell’s brats and all hell broke loose.”
Scott’s voice had the brittle quality of someone who was running only on adrenaline. The engineer had been on this ship of subterfuge for three long days.
“Send any men to engineering that can be spared but protect yourself.”
“Aye. I’ve not got so old by not covering my own butt.”
“Do not expose it now, Mister Scott. Too much is at stake. It is also an undignified position for someone of your rank.”
Spock heard several snorts of amusement and knew the level of tension had just dropped several degrees. It was a useful trick. One of many that Spock had learned from his Terran captain.
“Have you explained to Captain Stern the danger to which he has exposed himself?”
“That I have, sir,” Scott said in a more normal voice, “but there seems to be some question of who’s given’ the orders over there.”
Spock was not surprised. The question as to Stern’s motive remained. Why move the ship in such a manner? The contact with Mitchell made all of Stern’s actions highly suspect. He also remembered Kirk’s veiled warning.
“Watch the Hope carefully. She may need more explanations. I am on deck nineteen near Auxiliary Control. Keep me informed.”
“Aye, sir.” That was in answer to many things. “Will ye be needing help?”
“That remains to be seen, Commander. Spock out.”
He turned away from the unit and went to the control room. As expected, the door was locked. Kirk was not the only one skilled with computer locks. Entering his own overrides, Spock stepped forward as the doors split open.
Spock’s first sight was Mitchell who stood almost directly across the room. The lieutenant glanced up at the sound of the doors opening. His expression seemed to be one of pleasant surprise. The air held the slight chill that Kirk preferred when given access to the climate control.
Spock’s glance slid over him to settle on Kirk who was seated at the control console a few meters away. His face was unreadable. Two meters away black boots protruded from behind the phaser control console. The missing ensign.
“Journeys end with lovers meeting, Mister Spock.” Mitchell raised a hand that held the expected Maluri dart. “I was hoping it was you.” The smile was an oil slick across his face. “I’m one lucky fella. All my ducks in a row. You are the leader of this whole shitty little uprising, aren’t you?” he asked politely.
“Are you certain you do not refer to cooking your own goose?” Spock replied. He took a step closer toward Kirk but Mitchell waved the dart gun meaningfully.
“No closer, Mister Vulcan. I’d prefer you alive. It seems Jagston has a lot of questions to ask you.” He widened his eyes. “I seem to remember you missed his last visit. I think you’ll provide even more answers than he dreamed you would.”
Kirk’s hands had stopped their movement on the console and now he leaned back, sharp eyes flickering between Mitchell and Spock.
“Keep working, Jim. This is going to work out just as promised. You get the Enterprise back and I get a promotion. Maybe my own ship! We could be brothers-in- arms.” This smile oozed at even oilier levels.
Kirk’s eyes narrowed. “My brother’s dead, Mitchell. I killed him long ago.”
Mitchell shrugged but moved out of Kirk’s immediate reach.
Spock distracted Mitchell’s interest from Kirk. “Your operatives are under arrest in engineering.” He had no idea if this was true. “My forces are on their way here to do the same to you. Captain Stern has once again changed his plans. It is over.”
The smile slid into a grimace. “Stern’s an idiot. I should have known he couldn’t change. Only in this chicken shit rebellion could a stupid turd like him get a ship! I had that fool convinced you were the rebel. A traitor to the rebellion.” A thoughtful look gave light to the cold eyes. “What do you call a rebel rebel?”
“An arrested lieutenant?” Spock offered.
Mitchell thin facade of pleasantry dissolved.
“Not yet, Vulcan. I still have an ace. The captain here,” he gestured at Kirk seated quietly and inactively at the console, “happens to still hold all the access codes that control every part of this ship.” The smile was now toxic. “I tried to convince him to share, but he’s a stubborn man. Stubborn but not stupid, right Jim?”
Mitchell’s eyes were as cold and empty as the space surrounding the ship for which each of them contended. They rested on Spock with the promise of death.
“Jim’s codes will release the warp drive and let me set a course that will take this ship wherever I want it. And I want it at a place where Empire forces will be waiting for us all. I just have to send out my final message and you and this whole group of hopeless fuckers are history.”
Kirk rose slowly, his back to the console. “No one sets a course on this ship but me, Mitchell.” The console blinked in its computer babble of reds, yellows and greens.
“I think we’ve had this discussion before, Kirk. Better choose carefully. You’re between a rock and a hard place, my friend. You’re under arrest by one side or the other either way you go. At least with me you have a chance at command again.”
Spock almost shouted out his offer of support. His desire to see Kirk once again in command of the Enterprise. His desire for Kirk himself. But Mitchell was not the audience to which he wished to demonstrate his emotions, nor was the timing correct. He wondered if the time and place would ever be right for them.
“Captain, logically...” he began
“Shut the fuck up, Vulcan. You can logic all you want at Headquarters. In fact, they’ll probably have to cut your throat to shut you up after they start takin’ you apart. They may let me personally have a shot at you.” The prospect seemed to please Mitchell if the gleam in the eyes said anything.
Kirk formed the room’s nexus. All eyes watched him as he stood at the console. Kirk’s eyes were a color Spock had never seen before and held an expression for which he had no name. The human’s fingers slid in steady rhythm against his palms.
“What will it be, Jim?” Mitchell rasped.
Kirk detonated a smile. “You’re right, Gary. I’m not a fool.”
Spock watched the tension flow from Mitchell like water while his own heart turned to stone.
“Smart boy.” Mitchell tossed Spock a triumphant sneer. “Too bad you weren’t as smart. This signal sends you and yours to hell.”
“You will precede me, Lieutenant.” Spock marshaled control of every facial muscle. “I have diverted all computer capabilities from this control room. You shall send no message.
Several expressions vied for permanence on Mitchell’s face. Dismay won out over stunned disbelief.
The dismay became anger. “Not possible.” Mitchell turned toward Kirk. “You said you were the only one who could control this computer!”
“Shit happens.” Kirk said with a shrug.
Kirk‘s eyes sought Spock’s. Their gazes locked. A dozen thoughts and emotions roiled in the space between them. Spock believed he could recognize acknowledgment tinged with bitter irony.
“Release the console,” Mitchell yelled.
Spock did not deign to reply.
“Do it! Do it or I’ll kill you now and worry about it later.”
“That is your problem, Lieutenant. You act first and think second. I would recommend that you worry about your situation now.”
Mitchell’s complexion neared magenta. “Damn you! You’re dead, Vulcan!”
. Sweat began to pour down Mitchell’s temples. The dark eyes were pits of black rage. Spock relied on his Vulcan reflexes to evade the weapon aimed unswervingly at him.
A fist pounded on the door behind him.
“Mister Spock! You in there, sir?” a muffled voice called.
“I am. Cut through the hatch immediately.”
Mitchell uttered a guttural snarl. His arm straightened and Spock saw the finger convulse on the trigger. Spock’s body barely registered the command to react when a golden blur interposed between himself and Mitchell.
“No!” Kirk shouted. The dart struck his body with a muffled thud. The impact hurled the body back against the console.
A spasm clutched Spock’s chest as if the bolt had hit his own heart. As Mitchell’s finger moved again Spock launched himself forward. There were two bolts in a Maluri bow. He could see Mitchell’s face, a mask of pure fury.
Spock dove toward Mitchell. With a swing of his arm Spock deflected the human’s hand. The bolt fired with a murderous twang and buried itself in the wall several feet away. A swift movement had Mitchell’s wrist caught in Spock’s grasp. With a casual twist, the bones splintered like dry twigs. Mitchell’s shriek of pain was cut short as Spock’s other hand drove steel fingers into the soft human throat. Spock listened to the human’s final bloody gurgle with satisfaction.
Discarding the already chilling body, Spock raced to catch Kirk who began a boneless slide off the console. A crimson trail marked his slow progress to the floor.
Spock knelt on the deck and gathered Kirk carefully into his arms. The dart protruded from Kirk’s rib cage, jumping like a tortured animal with every labored breath the human took.
“Jim,” he called as he gently cradled the limp body.
Kirk’s head drooped back against Spock’s arm as his eyes flickered open.
“Mitchell?” he breathed. A pink froth stained the pale lips.
“Dead.”
A brief touch gentled the pained features. “Good.”
“Do not talk. Help is arriving.” Spock could hear the burning whisper of dioxyctlene torches melting their path through the hatch.
“Spock,” Kirk rasped. Blood was spattered about the floor like red gems.
“I am here. I will never leave you,” Spock promised.
Kirk grasped at Spock’s hand and attempted to pull himself upwards. Spock leaned down. Only Spock’s eidetic memory saved the vital stream of data that Kirk began whispering painfully past blood-flecked lips. The vital computer codes were relegated to the back of Spock’s mind. All concentration was upon the hazel eyes gazing into his own. All his fears were centered on the shadow that crept with gathering darkness in those bright eyes.
“Better this way,” Kirk murmured on a final exhalation of breath.
“No!” Spock tightened his grasp of the slack body. His only clear thought was regret that he had wasted so much time. Regret that he had never told Kirk of his feelings. Regret that time might be running out with all his words unsaid.
Spock heard the doors grind open. A mass of bodies pushed about unheeded. Spock barely noticed the crewmen who examined Mitchell’s body that lay like a crumpled shirt in the corner of the room. Someone slapped at the toggles directly above Spock’s head bringing the piquant tang of unwashed human.
“Sickbay, medical emergency! Auxiliary control room, deck nineteen. Now!”
“On the way. Is...” the med tech’s voice began.
“Is Spock hurt?” McCoy’s sharp twang interrupted.
“No, it’s the captain. Better move it!”
The chill of the floor seeped slowly into Spock’s body but it was as nothing to the cold creeping into his soul. Kirk’s life was slipping away. With infinite care, Spock lifted the limp body in his arms. He barely heard the protestations of the crew as he moved carefully to the door. Nothing entered his consciousness but the warmth of Kirk’s blood dripping steadily to the deck.
The doors parted. McCoy, Solan and the med team stood before him. Spock tried to moved on down the hall way but McCoy stepped in front of him.
“For god’s sake, Spock! Let me take him to sickbay on the gurney. The last thing he needs is being toted through the corridors.”
Logic and emotion waged a bitter war within Spock’s heart. A ribbon of scarlet traced Kirk’s hand to splatter upon the white deck creating an impressionist painting of death. Sense intruded itself. With pain Spock knew that the Golites were right. The head should sometimes rule the heart.
As if parting with a piece of his own soul, Spock slowly handed Kirk over to McCoy.
“If he dies...” He left the statement unfinished. A plea or a warning. Perhaps both.
Blue eyes locked briefly with brown. McCoy nodded as the gurney began down the corridor taking Kirk away to sickbay.
Crewmen queried for orders, the computer codes echoed in his head, danger still lurked in the space about them. Spock thought of nothing but the man on the gurney being rolled quickly away from him.
Damning Surak and all the prophets of logic, Spock followed his heart to the lift.
****
As he had for the previous two days, Spock stood at the side of Kirk’s medicouch.
McCoy had sworn on his life that the captain would live and that Kirk’s slow recovery was because of his generally poor condition. But Spock had to stay. He felt more assured when in Kirk’s presence—a talisman against the emptiness of Spock’s former life.
The human began the slow climb to consciousness. The hazel eyes opened, unfocused and peaceful, the sudden infusion of personality that announced a mind in residence. Then Kirk looked at him. As if a switch was thrown, the features took on their usual wary cast.
“The ship?” Kirk asked in a low voice.
“Safe. We are well under way at warp six.” Spock replied.
“Mitchell?”
“Dead.”
The human nodded. “Yeah, you said. Remember now.”
“Captain Stern is sharing the brig with Mitchell’s operatives until a decision is made as to his disposition. He has changed sides for the last time.”
Kirk tried to moisten his dry lips and Spock hastened to offer a bit of ice from one of the many containers McCoy kept cluttered about. Spock slipped his hand beneath Kirk’s head. Spock lingered as he luxuriated in the warmth of the human’s life.
“How do you feel?”
“You’re always asking me that.”
“Perhaps because you are always in difficulty,” Spock responded.
“Guess I am.” Kirk gave a rare smile of genuine amusement. It quickly faded. “We’re also back where we started.”
“Not so.” Spock did not pretend to misunderstand Kirk’s reference to being once again in Spock’s custody. “We now have a clearer understanding of each other.”
“God, Spock! I’ve seen shit that’s clearer.”
“You have a foul way with words, James.”
Kirk’s head jerked away from Spock’s pillowing arm.
“No one calls me that.” Kirk stared up at Spock with hazel eyes stained with steel.
“I shall use the name that no one uses because I am not like anyone else.” Spock sat on the edge of the bed that was as yielding as neutronium. “From whom did you learn your foul ways, James? Your brother?”
Kirk’s face lost what little color it possessed. “What do you know about my brother?” The words were forced through teeth clenched in either physical pain or emotional anguish. Spock had seen Kirk face the physical with equanimity.
“I know only what you yourself have told me.“
Kirk attempted to sit up. “I told you shit! Nobody knows! It’s not even in that pile of lies they call my file.”
Spock tried to place restraining hands on the human’s naked shoulders but Kirk shook them off and collapsed back onto the pallet. Fearing to upset the volatile human even more, Spock sat quietly and allowed Kirk time to calm himself.
“Will you now listen?” Spock asked. Kirk’s eyes were wary but they were no longer wild. “I merely meant that I know you well enough to put the puzzle together from the pieces you gave me.” He saw the denial forming on Kirk’s lips. “Why did you sabotage the warp engines instead of destroying the ship?”
Seemingly startled by the change of topic Kirk answered calmly. “It’s my ship. I don’t destroy what’s mine.”
“And the delay? You were expecting assistance?”
Kirk shrugged.
“Who? Mitchell?”
Kirk shrugged again. “He always did have lousy timing.”
“Why the nineteen minute delay?” Kirk looked away. “When you mentioned your brother to Mitchell I remembered a notation in your file. George Kirk died when you were visiting the Martian colonies. You were nineteen. You used that number as the first or last two digits in all your access codes. Ergo, that event had profound meaning to you.”
“It didn’t mean shit. You’re way off, Spock.”
“I do not think so. I believe that something happened to you that day. Something that began you on your journey to this place in the Empire.“ He touched Kirk’s flushed cheek. “Will you not let me help you now? Tell me what is in your mind and heart?”
Kirk moved just out of Spock’s reach.
“I don’t have a heart, Spock.”
Spock brushed his hand across the bandaged chest. “Then what is this?” He asked softly.
“I was protecting my ship.”
“No,” Spock answered. “You were protecting me.”
Kirk shook his head.
“Why is it easier for you to face death than to admit your feeling for me?”
“Feelings get you killed.” The eyes gazing steadily into Spock’s were oceans of pain washing down to dark depths. “People’s feelings are never as strong as cash on the table.” Kirk said. “For enough credits you’re just another object for sale.”
Spock could not imagine the scenario Kirk was mentally reliving but he vowed to use all his power, mental, physical and financial to keep any such pain from touching Kirk in future.
“Do you believe that I can be bought for any amount of wealth?” Spock asked.
Whatever Kirk might have replied remained inside him as he turned his head away.
Spock’s heart turned to stone. “That is answer enough.”
He rose and moved with leaden steps to the door.
“Spock.”
Spock turned to find the bright anguished eyes upon him.
“I do...” Kirk bit his lip on the unsaid words.
“You must say it.”
The bright eyes darkened. “Is that the cost of my freedom? Of getting my ship back?”
Spock moved back to Kirk.
“You really do not understand. None of your access codes have been changed. The ship is still yours.”
Kirk raised himself up. “What if my first order is to take this ship back to an Empire base? What if I choose against this rebellion shit?”
Spock knew that it was Kirk’s nature to provoke and test any situation. Their future together would never be dull.
“That is your choice. As always, I shall follow your lead.” He looked into Kirk’s eyes. “Shall I give the orders?”
“No.” Kirk said.
“Why not?”
“You damn well know why, Vulcan.”
Spock returned to his seat on the edge of the pallet. “No, I do not believe that I do.”
“Why is it so important to you to hear me say a few words?” Kirk said.
“It is not important that I hear it but that you say it.”
Anger, defiance, uncertainty and desperation all seemed to tumble about like pebbles in a vast river of emotion.
“I love you.” Kirk said, almost inaudibly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said I love you, damn it.” The eyes held wonderment. “I do. I don’t know how or even when it happened but I know I love you.”
“When makes little difference. That you love me now gives me great joy. That now I can tell you how much I love you.”
Kirk sat up on the medicouch. He had the pallet in total disarray. The sheet was bunched about his waist and trailing on the floor. As he sat there Kirk looked like someone who had just awakened from a long unpleasant sleep. Something from an ancient tale of beauty awakened by love.
“I didn’t believe that I’d ever say those words to anyone.” Kirk said softly.
Spock looked into those amazing eyes and beheld the truth of that statement. Giving in to a desire he had harbored for unnumbered days, Spock enfolded Kirk in his arms. At the feel of the cool smoothness, his embrace tightened as he tried to impress the moment into his own flesh forever.
“And you shall never regret having said them to me.”
“I’ve loved you for a long time, Spock. I just never believed that someone like you could love me back.”
“With all my heart, with all I have, for all my life.”
In a moment of unparalleled joy, Spock felt Kirk’s answering embrace. Spock felt the softness of human hair touch his cheek as Kirk rested his head against his shoulder. It was a gesture of tenderness and trust that Spock had barely dreamed of having from this volatile man. Spock’s lips brushed the golden strands. Kirk leaned heavily against Spock and tilted his head, giving Spock access to the tempting lips.
Spock believed that often the best way to deal with temptation was to give in to it. Spock pressed his lips to the ones he had fantasized about for years. They did not disappoint. He felt heat surge through his body from the point of contact. Their lips welded together leaving him light headed. Such a way to die.
Kirk broke contact and smiled.
“I love you.” Spock said
“You already said that.” Kirk leaned back against Spock’s shoulder and he felt Kirk’s smile against his skin.
“And I shall say it again, every day of my life if you will allow it.”
Kirk pulled back and looked steadily into Spock’s face. The direct honesty in the hazel eyes reminded Spock of the alternate Kirk, of why he had gotten involved in the rebellion in the first place, of what he had hoped to accomplish and what he now hoped he had gained.
“Do you trust me?” Spock asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes.”
Spock ran his hand along the taut chest and down the silken hip. His fingers danced along the sensitive inner thigh asking the question he had dreamed of but not hoped for.
“Yes.” Kirk said again.
“When you are well I will ask this question again.”
“I’ll give the same answer.” Kirk responded.
Looking into the beautiful face and with his hands on the muscled silk of Kirk’s body, Spock knew the wait would be a difficult one.
“I shall mark the passage of each second.”
Spock thought Kirk’s smile appeared a trifle smug as the human replied, “You’re a Vulcan. Let’s see some of that famous fucking control.” He slid back against the pallet and smiled with a wattage approaching that of a main sequence star. “I heal fast.”
Never had Spock hoped more for truth from Kirk. He leaned again into the soft lips awaiting him.
“Any more questions, Spock?”
“They have all been answered to my complete satisfaction, Captain.”
“What do you say, we go and cause the Empire some trouble while we’re waiting for more interesting developments?” Kirk ran his hand along Spock’s arm.
“If you provide the Empire with as much difficulty as you did myself, they should prepare now for immediate and total surrender.”
For the first time in Spock’s memory, James Kirk laughed.
****
The End