DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2002 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.
Here Be Dragons
by Djinn
Spock sat in his command
chair and mused that the huge image of Vulcan on the viewscreen was getting old
even for him. The refits were taking
longer than expected--caused in no small part by the emergency on the Caledonia
that had called away all the techs. The
later Psi 2000 outbreak--deliberately set loose on the Carter--and the murder
that had followed shortly on its heels did not help, nor did the ensuing
investigation that was including a great deal of the refit crews in the list of
possible suspects.
So far, Kerr was making no
progress in the investigation. Not that
Spock had expected him to. The story put
out for the crew was that the murder was the work of an enemy of the Federation
striking randomly, but Spock, working with Kerr and Christine, suspected that
Lieutenant Commander Farrell had been killed by the shadowy Starfleet section
she had refused to specifically name, the one she had said had been behind her
orders to let the Psi 2000 virus loose on the ship.
Spock glanced over at Christine.
She sat quietly, staring intently, if somewhat blankly, at the viewscreen. He checked to make sure the view had not
changed. It had not.
Sensing his look, she turned
to meet his eyes. "What?" she
asked quietly.
He shook his head and watched
her turn her gaze back to the viewscreen.
She'd been sitting next to him like this for at least an hour. He did a quick calculation and realized that
was easily a personal record on her part.
Sitting and doing nothing was not her strong suit. But it seemed to be the activity she
preferred since Farrell had been killed.
"May I speak to you in
private?" he asked softly.
She didn't look at him as she
nodded and rose quickly, already on the way to his ready room. He stood and followed her. "Lieutenant Kimble, you have the
bridge."
"Aye, sir," the
helmsman replied.
Christine waited at the door
to his office. He gestured for her to
enter and she walked to the view port and stood tensely, staring out at the
stars and Vulcan below them. He watched
her for several long moments before asking, "Christine, are you all
right?"
She didn't answer.
He joined her, shoulder near
enough to touch hers if either of them moved.
Turning slightly so he could see her face, he asked, "T'hy'la, what
is it?"
She just shook her head, not
even reacting to the endearment.
"I know that Commander
Farrell's death was a shock to you, Christine.
That it has left you in a dark place."
She sighed. "Plenty of light here."
"You know what I
mean."
She turned to him then, her
expression harsh. "You wallowed in
grief. Why can't I?"
He tried to keep his
expression even, to not show her that her blow had hit home. "I am not sure my method is the way I
would recommend."
"Little late now,"
she said, her tone only slightly less bitter than it had been.
"Perhaps. Do you wish to talk about this?"
She laughed. It was a brittle, hollow sound to his
ears. "God, you're as bad as
Randall. That's all he wants to do. Talk about this. Can't I just be sad?"
"I think you have gone
beyond sad, Christine."
She turned to face him. "If you think I'm pathological, then
refer me to Carpenter. Otherwise, leave
me the hell alone."
He could feel his face
tighten. "As you wish."
She started to walk to the
bridge door.
"You will report to
Doctor Carpenter at once." He saw
her stiffen. "I am sorry,
Commander. It is for your own
good."
Without a word, she turned
and headed for the rear door. Once she
had left, Spock hit his comm channel.
"Spock to Carpenter."
"Carpenter here."
"This call needs to be
private."
"It is. I'm in my office."
"Doctor Chapel is on her
way down. She has exhibited an alarming
lethargy since Commander Farrell's death.
I am...worried about her."
"I'll talk to her,
Captain, but I'm not an expert in this field.
I may have to refer her to one of our counselors."
"Whatever you think
best, Doctor. You are her friend and an
excellent physician. I trust you to do
the right thing for her."
"And here she is
now. I'll keep you posted. Carpenter out."
Spock took a deep breath
before walking back out to the bridge.
Christine had been through so much.
Not just the death of her friend and fighting a virus she considered her
personal nemesis, but also helping him through the death of his mother. And that was only days after Christine had
been forced by circumstances to get him through the Pon Farr. And even earlier than that she had been
staunchly by his side as they had selected the crew and readied the ship.
He remembered how happy she
was when it was just the two of them.
They had both thought they had known where the relationship they were
slowly creating was headed. But then Jim
had died, and Spock, consumed with his own pain, had shut her out. And she had turned to another man. A man who could be there for her in the way
that Spock had refused. A man that loved
her. But who couldn't reach her now
either from what she'd said.
Spock reached for the channel
again. "Spock to Kerr."
"Kerr here, sir."
"I need to speak with
you."
"I'll be right up."
Spock realized this was a
conversation he didn't want to have in his office. "No, Colonel. I'll come to you."
"Very well, sir."
Spock cut the connection and
left the ready room by the front entrance so that Kimble would know he was off
the bridge altogether. Taking the lift
down to deck nine he walked slowly to Kerr's office, nodding to the marines who
greeted him as he passed. There had been
a time, before Christine had chosen Kerr, that Spock had spent much more time
in this area. He realized that he'd been
avoiding it since then, perhaps because he was unwilling to see the two of them
together.
Images of holding Christine
in his arms distracted him. He tried to
push them away but could not. He had
been left with no choice after the Pon Farr but to let go of her and watch her
go back to Kerr. It was what she had
wanted, what she had chosen. But he
could not completely get those days and nights they had spent together out of
his mind. And he had tried. Meditation, normally a comfort at the worst
times, did not stop the images from reminding him what he had let get away.
He arrived at Kerr's door and
ordered the inappropriate thoughts out of his mind. Christine was not his. She belonged with this man. And both he and Kerr needed to try to help
her now. He rang the chime.
"Come in." Kerr rose as Spock walked in.
"At ease,
Colonel." Spock sat down, watched
as Kerr followed suit. "I wish to
speak of Commander Chapel. I am
concerned about her."
Kerr's response was
wary. "In what way, sir?"
Spock approved of Kerr's
reticence. "She seems to be
detached, lethargic, and highly depressed.
I did not notice this immediately following Commander Farrell's death,
but it has become increasingly more apparent."
"I've seen it too,
sir." Kerr leaned back. "She isn't in the mood to talk about it
to me."
"Nor to me." Spock could not tell Kerr he had ordered
Christine to sickbay. She would have to
share that with him if she chose. Spock
was suddenly at a loss for what more to say.
"I'm worried about her
too," Kerr said, filling the silence.
Spock let a small sigh
escape. "The bridge is not the same
place it was. I imagine your private
time with her is also impacted?"
Kerr nodded. "She's been hurting and I don't know how
to help her...how to reach her."
Spock rose. "I don't either. But we must not give up. I will do what I can. You must too."
"The best I can do is
love her," Kerr replied, then gave Spock an odd look of
understanding. "Maybe that's the
best either of us can do."
"Perhaps. I must get back to the bridge."
Kerr nodded. "Right, sir. I appreciate the visit."
Spock wondered what they had
really accomplished. As he met Kerr's
eyes, he could see the colonel wondered the same thing. Fighting a small smile, Spock said, "I
believe there are no lengths we wouldn't go for her."
Kerr looked wary. "To help her...or to get her?"
Spock chose not to
answer. "Good day, Colonel."
"Sir," Kerr replied
as the door closed behind Spock.
As Spock walked back to the
bridge, he refused to dwell on the answer to the colonel's question. What was the point? Both he and Kerr knew it anyway. And, for now, it was irrelevant. They needed to get Christine back. Then they could continue whatever was going
on between the three of them.
----------------------------------
Christine walked listlessly
to sickbay. She couldn't even muster up
much indignation that Spock had just ordered her off the bridge. She knew she was in a dark place, wasn't sure
exactly how she had arrived there.
She passed crewmembers and
greeted them, trying to feign some measure of cheer. She had the feeling her act wasn't very
convincing. She was almost grateful to
turn into sickbay and walk to Carpenter's office. The other doctor was talking to someone on
her comm. Spock, most likely, Christine
reasoned. He would have to explain to
Carpenter why he was sending her boss down for an evaluation. He had placed Carpenter in a very
uncomfortable position. Christine found
she didn't have the energy to care.
Carpenter saw her, and waved
her in, cutting off the comm as she did it.
"Sit down, Commander."
"I'd really rather
not," Christine tried to joke, even as she took the chair in front of
Carpenter's desk.
"I imagine
not." Carpenter studied her
closely. "You look terrible."
"Is that your medical
diagnosis?"
"No. That's my remark as a friend. Are you sleeping?"
Christine didn't want to
admit that she'd been having trouble sleeping since the wake.
"Christine. You have to talk to me or I won't be able to
tell what is wrong. We both know what
I'll have to do if I can't get to the bottom of it myself."
"Counselor,"
Christine said softly. "Time
off. Mandatory bed rest. And a few nice drugs so I don't freak."
Carpenter shook her head with
a wry grin. "You're not freaking
out, Commander. Just perhaps mired in an
unhealthy stage of grief."
Carpenter got up. "Come on,
I want a full set of scans first. You've
been burning the candle at both ends for a while now. A good deal of this may be accumulated
stress."
Christine followed her out to
one of the biobeds and watched as Carpenter took the readings and sent the
results to her office. Even from her
vantage point, Christine could see that some of her neurotransmitters were
completely out of whack.
"Stress," she whispered.
"Stress," Carpenter
replied softly, her voice returning to normal once they were back in her
office. "You've been through quite
a bit. That experience on the cave
and...uh later, may have taxed you a lot more than you knew. Did you ever really rest up after that?"
Christine shook her
head. "We got the news of the death
of Spock's mother and I had to mind the store here, and then Randall..."
"Yeah, I imagined he
needed some hand holding after what happened.
I'll be right back." She
walked out to the cabinets and filled a hypospray with a mixture of compounds. When she came back in, she held it up to
Christine's neck and released it.
She sat back down and studied
Christine. "You aren't even going
to ask me what that was?"
"A mix of vitamins and
minerals, I imagine. With perhaps a dose
of reuptake inhibitors."
Carpenter shook her
head. "The Christine Chapel I know
would never just imagine what was in a hypo.
She'd damn well want to know exactly what I was injecting her
with." She smiled gently.
Christine rose, "So I
can go back to work now."
Carpenter shot her a look
that clearly meant 'sit back down' so Christine did. "I think there's more to this than just
being tired. Talk to me."
"Delynn, what do you
want me to say?"
"Tell me how you
feel."
"Why does everyone want
to know that?"
"Maybe because nobody is
really sure." Carpenter leaned
forward. "I know you're hurting,
Christine. Farrell was a good friend of
yours. And she was horribly murdered. And none of us know why."
Christine looked down. She knew why.
"And that is preying on
your mind. You need to talk about
it."
"I will. When I'm ready."
"I think you're ready
now." She gestured to the
readouts. "Or maybe you're just
ready for some serious sleep. The hypo
should make you feel better and a little sleepy."
"So I can go now?"
Christine asked, rising quickly
Carpenter nodded. "But not back to the bridge. You're relieved from duty for the
day." She looked up and met
Christine's eyes, resolution clear.
"Tomorrow you can talk to me or you can talk to the Captain. If you don't, then you'll spend another day
off. Your choice."
"That's not fair."
"Neither is what you're
doing to yourself." Carpenter got
up and walked around her desk, stopping to touch Christine on the arm. "I'm sorry. I know you're in pain, and this isn't going
to feel like it's helping much."
Christine sighed. "It's so black. I try to see the future, try to tell myself
that it won't be like this forever. But
it's so hard to see anything but being sad."
Carpenter seemed to consider
something. Then she took a deep
breath. "Do you remember what the
virus made me do?"
Christine thought back. "You were trying to get something off
your hands."
"It happened on the
Reynaldi colony, near Vega V." Her
eyes were watching something very far away...or long ago. "There was an attack by pirates and they
were using a new weapon. It was
awful. I've never seen so many body
parts just lying around." She
closed her eyes. "People that
weren't injured were covered in gore.
Literally dripping with it."
"God, Delynn."
"I had to help. I was a doctor. I couldn't take the time to clean up other
than to have another medic hose me off.
When it was over, I had blood everywhere. I tried to get it off but I couldn't. I just lost it, Christine." Her eyes when they met Christine's were
haunted. "They had to sedate me. It took two days before I'd even
speak." She shook her head. "I'd been fine up to that moment. And eventually I was fine again."
"How?"
"It just took time. And talking to people I trusted about what I
was feeling. And rest. It's why I'm giving you some time off. You need to rest. Sometimes sleep is the best thing."
Christine nodded.
"And don't go back to
the bridge. Not even to your
office. You got that?"
"Yes, doctor." Christine walked out of Carpenter's office
and, nodding to the nurse on duty, left sickbay. She saw the door to Redmoon's lab open and
walked in. A lab tech saw her and said,
"Doctor Redmoon's not here, sir.
Can I help you?"
Christine shook her
head. "Never mind, it isn't
important." She had thought that
Redmoon's calming presence might help.
He'd been such a support when she and Farrell were fighting the
virus. But maybe she just wanted to talk
to him because he was some kind of link to Farrell.
Christine left the lab,
taking the lift down to deck seven and Farrell's office. There were cartons piled outside the
door. Renata's things hadn't been packed
up yet. Christine took a deep breath and
picked up the cartons. Opening the door,
she walked into the space and slowly exhaled.
No ghosts. "I'm sorry,
Ren," she whispered as she slowly began to pack up her friend's
things.
----------------------------------
Kerr heard the alarm go off
on his console and checked the readings.
Someone was in Farrell's office.
He got up, opening up one of the drawers in his desk, then reached under
to take out the phaser he'd concealed there after the Psi 2000 outbreak. Hiding the weapon in one of the special
pockets in his uniform, he hurried up to deck seven.
The corridor was full of
medical staff. He nodded to those he
knew as he worked his way to Farrell's office.
The door was closed. Checking the
hall and finding it empty, he reached for his phaser. Standing well to the side, he hit the door
control and waited.
"Who's there?" he
heard Christine call out, then he heard footsteps.
"Shit," he muttered
as he stuffed the phaser back in his pocket.
"Christine?"
"Randall?" She backed up as he walked in. "What are you doing here?"
"Finding out what you're
doing here. Only I didn't know it was
you. I put a watch on the door to this
office and to Farrell's quarters just in case."
She looked only mildly
interested. "You think that the
killer is still on the ship?"
He frowned at her
indifference. "Probably not, but I
decided it couldn't hurt to be prepared in case they were." He saw the cartons she had brought. "You're packing up her office?"
She nodded, her tone oddly
flat. "Spock made me go see
Carpenter and she relieved me of duty for the rest of the day. Besides, someone has to."
He turned and locked the
door. "Doesn't have to be
you," he replied as he took one of the cartons and began to put Farrell's
personal files inside. He'd already been
through the office once. But he didn't
want Christine finding something that he'd overlooked.
"She was my friend. Who else should do this?" She sounded irritated.
"I didn't mean--"
She cut him off, "I know
what you meant, Randall. You don't have
to help," she gave him a look he couldn't decipher.
He left the carton and walked
over to her. "What's wrong?"
Her eyes flashed as she said,
"I'm packing up my murdered friend's things, Randall. What the hell do you think is wrong?"
He grabbed her arm as she
turned away, pulling her close despite the glare she gave him. Her body was rigid as he closed his arms
around her. She pushed on him for a
moment. If she asked, he'd let her
go. But he hoped she'd relax and tell
him what was wrong. He'd just about
given up hope that she was going to give up, when he felt her body go slack and
her arms slipped around him. "Her
service was today," she whispered.
He finally understood. "You should have gone."
She didn't say anything.
He sighed and held her
closer. "She loved you,
sweetheart. She wouldn't want you
beating yourself up this way for doing your duty."
"You didn't know
her," Christine said as she pulled away.
He chose not to argue, just
went back to packing things up. Glancing
back at her occasionally, he made short work of the files and closed the
carton. "What are you going to do
with these?"
She shook her head. "Put them in storage for now."
He just nodded. Watching her as she worked, he wondered what
she was thinking. Usually he could read
her, but shut down and in pain, he was finding it impossible to reach her.
"The crew's scared,"
she finally said.
"I know."
"They think that the
'random enemy of the Federation' you and Spock created is going to strike
again." She closed the last carton
and gave him a hard stare.
"I know that too."
"Do you care?"
He nodded. "I do.
But they're in no danger. We know
who really did this."
She shook her head. "We don't know anything, Randall. And it's driving me crazy."
"You've got to let that
part of it go. You couldn't have stopped
her death."
Her face fell. "I know that. I just want to believe that I could
have."
As she picked up the carton,
he eased her arm back down. "Leave
it. The quartermaster can take care of
it."
"But--"
"You've done your
part." He pulled her into his arms
again. "You're a good friend,
Christine."
She leaned against him
hard. "I miss her, Randall."
"I know." He gave her a quick kiss then pulled
away. "It's shift change. Let's have dinner in your quarters."
She nodded. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I know you're hurting."
They took the lift to deck
two and walked to her quarters. He was
just ordering dinner from the replicator when her comm unit chimed. She answered and a face he didn't recognize
came on.
"Chris?"
"Len?" There was such joy in her voice, Kerr felt a
moment's jealousy. Then he realized that
this had to be the McCoy she'd told him so much about and he smiled. Maybe this was just what she needed.
"Hon, I've got some bad
news. For you and Spock. I wanted to talk to you first
because...because I know that he had a hard time after Jim's death."
"What?" Her voice
was dangerously flat again.
"It's Scotty."
"He's retired on Norpin
V," she said, as if she were willing it to be so.
"He would have been
retired on Norpin V, Chris. If the ship
had made it. It didn't." McCoy watched her carefully.
"I see," was all
she said.
"Chris?"
"Yes. Thank you.
I see."
"Hon, I know this is a
shock, especially after what happened. I
heard about your friend."
"I see."
Kerr wished she'd stop saying
that.
"Chris--" McCoy's voice was cut off as she closed the
channel.
"Christine," Kerr
said.
She turned slowly, looked at
him as if trying to figure out who he was.
"Sweetheart--"
She sat down on the couch
calmly. Her look was completely composed
as she said in an icy voice. "Get
out."
"Christine."
"Get out, Randall. I want to be alone."
"I don't think that's a
good idea."
"I do." She took a deep breath and sat collected and
very still. When he didn't move, she
looked up again. "Please? Let me be."
"If you want me, I'm
here for you. You know that."
"Nobody's here for
me. Not when everybody's
dying." As he started to argue, she
held up a hand. "Just go,
Randall."
He wanted to argue but
something in her expression stopped him.
"I love you."
"Please?" He'd never seen her look so tired.
Finally, nodding in defeat,
he left her alone.
-----------------------------------
Working far later into beta
shift than he had meant to, Spock was just about to leave the bridge when the
comm chimed.
"Incoming transmission
from Earth, sir," Ensign Tompkins said.
"Marked personal for you."
He rose. "From whom?"
"A Doctor Leonard
McCoy."
Spock's eyebrow rose. "I'll take it in my ready room. Lieutenant Crawford, you have the conn."
"Aye, sir."
Walking quickly to his
office, Spock activated the channel.
"Doctor McCoy. An unexpected
pleasure."
McCoy frowned. "Doubt you'll think so when I get done
talking."
"Something is
wrong?"
"It's Scotty. He was on his way to retirement. And the ship.
The ship..." He rubbed his
eyes roughly, "Damn it. He's dead, Spock."
"Dead." Spock had a hard time reconciling his mental
image of the vital and energetic Scott with the word. "How?"
"The Jenolen was lost
with all hands." McCoy leaned
forward, his image growing bigger.
"I called Chris first, Spock, because I wasn't sure how you were
going to take this news. But she's on
the one that didn't take it well."
Spock frowned slightly. "She recently lost a friend."
"Farrell. Yeah, I heard. Murdered.
What the hell kind of diplomatic ship are you running, Spock?" McCoy looked worried and somewhat angry. "Story is that a terrorist did it. Who the hell is running your security?"
"It was not a security
lapse."
"Well, I'm still worried
about you out there. You're a big target
whether you realize it or not. And so is
Chris if she's with you."
Spock nodded
thoughtfully. "You said she did not
take the news well. What did she
do?"
McCoy sighed. "She shut down on me. Wouldn't talk about it, didn't cry. Just kept saying, 'I see,' over and over
again. Is she okay?"
"She has been through a
lot lately."
"Well, it must have been
a hell of a lot, Spock. She looked damn
near catatonic when she signed off."
He peered at Spock. "You two
close enough these days you can find out what's going on?"
Spock let his eyebrow rise
slowly at the barb in the question. The
doctor's tendency to not mince words certainly had not changed. "We are."
"Well, good. Go do it." McCoy suddenly looked wistful. "I don't suppose you're coming back for
Scotty's memorial, are you? It's in
three days. Hate to admit it, Spock, but
I miss you."
"I believe I may attend
the ceremony. The ship is being refitted
here. There is no reason not to
go."
"Well, bring Christine
with you. She looks like she could use a
trip home."
"I will see what she
says," Spock replied. "Spock
out." He cut the connection and
walked out to the bridge. He needed to
check on Christine, but he had several things he should do first. "I'll be in engineering," he told
Lieutenant Crawford.
"Yes, sir."
The ride to deck ten seemed
to take longer than normal. When he
emerged, he headed directly for Kettering's office.
His friend looked up as Spock
appeared at the door. His eyes glimmering,
Kettering blinked hard several times and rubbed his forehead before saying,
"I just heard."
Spock sat down across from
the chief engineer. "I know you
looked up to him."
"I did, Spock. This is so damn unfair. He was on his way to retire."
"I know."
Kettering slammed his fist on
his desk, an unusual gesture.
Spock studied him. "Will you be going back for the
memorial?"
Kettering shook his
head. "Not my place to. He was my mentor and my teacher, but I wasn't
his friend the way you were. Besides, I
want to remember him like he was. Out
here." He pointed at the image of
space outside of the viewscreen.
"And in here," he said in a softer voice, indicating
engineering.
"I think that is how he
would wish you to remember him."
Kettering nodded, his eyes
turned down to the desk. Then he looked
up and met Spock's eyes. "Thanks
for coming down here. You're a good
friend, Spock."
"I value your well
being, Ron."
"I pretty much value
yours too," the engineer said with a smile. "Are you going back?"
Spock nodded.
"That's good. He'd be pleased. Always spoke about you with a certain tone in
his voice."
Spock rose. "I have always held him in the highest
regard. This will be a sad
occasion."
As he walked back to the
lift, Spock considered Kettering's words.
Had he been Captain Scott's friend?
They had worked together for years.
He had relied on the engineer's ability to get them out of the deepest
danger. He had helped him on many
projects. But friends? Spock was not sure that they had been. Nevertheless, that didn't change his resolve
to go.
When he arrived on the
bridge, he instructed Tompkins to connect him with his father's residence and
went into his ready room.
"My son," Sarek stared
at Spock with the slightly lost look he had worn since Amanda had died. "What is it?"
"A friend of mine has
died. You remember Captain Scott?"
"I do. A fine man."
"Yes. I plan to attend the funeral."
"And you would like to
borrow the ship?" Sarek
nodded. "Of course, Spock. I will have it prepared and provisioned. It will be just you?"
"Christine will probably
travel with me. Possibly a third person
as well."
"I will see to it, my
son. When do you leave?"
"As soon as I have
packed. Thank you, father."
"Do not thank me. It pleases me to do this for you," Sarek
said with a stern but fond look as he cut the connection.
--------****-----------------
Christine ignored the chime
on the first ring. And on the
second. When she did not answer the
third, her door opened and Spock walked in.
"Command codes,
Spock?" She glared at him.
"You are not the only
one the can do that, Christine." He
looked around.
"He's not here. I told him to go away. Why don't you join him?" Her words were bitter, but her tone was flat.
"Doctor McCoy called
me," he said as he joined her on the couch.
She wondered how he knew to
sit just close enough for her to reach out and touch him if she wanted, but not
so near that she felt crowded. She
looked away, saying nothing.
He waited.
She sat silently, willing him
to go away, to just leave her alone.
He didn't move.
Finally, she said,
"They're all dying."
"Not all. Doctor McCoy and Commander Uhura are
fine. Captain Sulu and Commander Rand
are thriving on the Excelsior. Commander
Chekov is doing well. You and I are
still here."
She looked over at him,
frowning slightly. "It feels like
we're losing them."
He nodded. "We did not go home when Jim died. That may have been, in retrospect, an
unfortunate choice."
"We had a launch to
contend with. And a plague after
that."
"You are being logical
again."
She could feel her mood
lighten, the awful blackness that had filled her when McCoy had called finally
lifting somewhat. "Annoying, isn't
it?"
His voice was tender as he
gave her one of his rare half smiles.
"Annoyance is an emotion."
Scooting over slowly, she
felt his arm drop around her shoulders to pull her closer. She laid her head on his chest. "And we both know you don't have
those."
"Yes, we both know
that," he agreed, as he rested his chin on her hair for a few
moments.
"You think we should go
back for Scotty's memorial?" she finally asked.
"I do." He waited.
When she did not comment, he said.
"My father has offered us the use of his private yacht. It is a very fast vessel."
"That's a good
idea," she finally said.
"Are you all right,
Christine?"
"Why wouldn't I
be?" she said, but a sob caught in her voice, giving lie to the words.
"McCoy was worried about
you."
"I know."
"I'm worried about
you," he said.
"I'm all right."
"T'hy'la, you don't need
to lie to me."
This time the endearment was
her undoing. The tears she'd been
holding back began to fall and she quit trying to stop them. He didn't say anything as he let her
cry. Finally, pulling away, she looked
down at his wet uniform. "I'm
making a mess of you," she said.
His hold on her
tightened. "I will survive."
She wrapped her arms around
him and relaxed. A strange peace settled
over her despite her sadness. "I
want to see our friends, Spock."
"As do I,
Christine." There was a long
silence as he held her. Finally he said,
"I assumed it would just be you and I traveling." His voice was barely more than a murmur.
Christine waited.
"But the yacht can hold
up to six."
Still she said nothing.
"The choice is
yours."
Her peace was gone; she felt
instantly guilty, as she answered, "They weren't his family."
"No, they were
not," he agreed quietly.
"And he'll be needed
here. His marines..." she trailed
off, unable to continue in what both of them knew was a lie.
"Then it will be just
the two of us."
"I feel guilty,"
she whispered, pulling away from him.
He let go of her
instantly. "Then ask him to join
us." Getting up, he walked to the
door slowly.
Before it could open she
said, "No, I...I feel guilty that I
don't want him to come."
He turned to face her and
their eyes locked for a long instant.
Then Spock nodded. "I will
contact Starfleet and make the arrangements for our lodging. We can leave as soon as you are
ready." His look grew more
thoughtful. "Are you sure you want
to go alone, Christine?"
"I'm sure." She tried to look resolved as he turned and
left the room. She tried not to think
about it as she packed her bags.
She was forced to think about
it when Kerr commed her. "I'm
worried about you." The concern on
his face touched her.
"I'm okay." He studied her, and she gave him a tentative
smile. "I'm sorry."
He nodded. "Can I see you?"
She looked down. "I have to pack. I'm going back to Earth for the
memorial. I need to see my friends...the
ones that are left. They're like family
and I have this terrible feeling that I'm losing them all and if I don't see
them soon, I never will."
"I understand. Do you want company? I have leave."
She swallowed. "I'm not going alone,
Randall."
Kerr didn't speak, just
stared at her from the comm panel.
"Randall?"
"When does Spock want
you to leave?"
"Soon."
He looked away. When he finally turned back he said softly,
"You made me a promise a little while ago.
I trust you remember it?"
She nodded solemnly.
He cleared his throat before
he said. "If you want to take that
promise back, just say so."
"I don't."
"You're sure?" His voice was deadly serious.
"We're going to a
funeral, not an orgy." She knew her
reply sounded overly defensive.
"Funerals bring out some
weird emotions."
She tried to smile. "Well then I guess it's fortunate I'm
traveling with a Vulcan."
A rare anger lit his
eyes. "Don't bullshit me,
Chapel."
"Randall, I--"
"Don't lie to me and
don't humor me. If you want to go to a
memorial and pay your respects, I'm fine with that. If you don't want me to go with you, I can
live with it. I don't like it, but I can
live with it. But if you think I'm going
to buy some cock-and-bull story about you not wanting him and him not wanting
you, then you must think I'm some kind of moron. I was in that damn greenhouse too,
remember?"
She didn't know what to say.
The anger in his eyes died,
and he looked away for a moment. When he
turned back his expression was carefully composed. "Ok, I'll make this easy on you. God knows why, but I will. You go to the memorial, and you say goodbye
to your friend. And see your crewmates
and reconnect, Christine. And do it at
Spock's side.
"And if you find that
the promise you made to me is easy to keep, then when you get back, you come to
my room and I'll make sure you don't regret that decision. But if it turns out to be something you can't
keep, then when you get back, you just send me a message that says "It's
over," and that'll be it."
"That's not what this is
about."
"This has been coming
ever since that damn cave, Christine.
Hell, maybe even before. It's
your choice. You have to make it. I'm just trying to help you not lie about it,
okay." He sighed. "I love you. I wish I were going with you. I'll see you when you get back. Hopefully." He hit the switch and the channel went dead.
"I love you too,"
she whispered to the blank screen.
-------------------
Spock checked over the
settings he'd programmed for their voyage.
Christine sat in the co-pilot chair, her head back and eyes partially
closed.
"Are you all
right?"
She nodded sleepily. "S'all your fault. Delynn gave me a shot of something. Now I wish I had asked her what was in
it. She said it would help me
rest."
"Then rest you
shall," he said as he got up and headed for the back of the small
ship. He realized she was not following. "Christine. You can rest more comfortably in here."
She swiveled her chair
slowly. "Too much work to
move."
"Come." He held out his hand to her.
With a groan, she pushed
herself out of the chair and followed him into the small bedroom.
"Lie down."
"I'm not a damn dog,
Spock," she groused irritably.
"What'll it be next? Roll
over?"
As she made herself
comfortable, still muttering to herself, he took a blanket from a small closet
and covered her up with it.
She made a happy sound as she
cuddled into it. "Soft."
"My mother made
it." He felt the jolt of sadness
that since his mother's death seemed to always accompany any thought of her. He
tried to push it away.
"I'm sorry,"
Christine said, as she reached for his hand.
He felt a shock of connection
as their hands touched. He could sense
her emotions clearly: sympathy for him,
her own sadness, and a terrible weariness.
She looked up at him, her
eyes going wide. "You're so
sad."
"Yes." He gently disengaged his hand and said,
"Rest now."
"Just for a little
while." She was asleep in seconds.
He watched her for a few
moments, then dimmed the lights and let the door close behind him as he
returned to his seat.
He was cleared for departure
as soon as he requested permission.
Easing the small vessel into the air, Spock didn't accelerate until they
were well out of Vulcan's atmosphere. He
set the controls to the course he had entered and sat back in the chair,
prepared to take the helm if he needed to.
He studied his hand, where it
had touched Christine's. He could still
feel her touch. Strange that he was
feeling her emotions so clearly. He had
not been particularly open to her at that moment, yet her feelings had come
through and she had been able to read his.
In his experience, only Jim had been able to do that.
Jim. Spock felt a tight sensation in his chest as
the nightmare of Jim that the Pesadii had enhanced took hold of him again. That Jim was somewhere lost--not dead--was
more than Spock could stand to think about.
Which is why it was a nightmare, his rational mind told him. It is the last thing you could stand, so
therefore it is the first thing you would dream.
Spock was grateful he did not
dream very often.
He checked the readouts. The course was true, the monitors all where
they should be. He could meditate. It would help the time go more quickly.
Hours passed and Spock slowly
became aware of his surroundings. He
looked at the empty chair next to him.
She was still sleeping. Even in his
meditative state, he had not been able to dull his awareness of her, of how
close she was, how they were alone together.
It had been this way since the Pon Farr, this hyperawareness of her. But she was not his; she had chosen another,
and he must honor that. His own feelings
were of no concern here.
But what of hers? some more
emotional part of him asked. What does
she want?
Ignoring the voice, Spock
went to the carryall he had brought and pulled out a padd. There was plenty of work to catch up on. This was not, after all, a pleasure
cruise. And even if it had been, he
admitted ruefully, he would still find an excuse to do work.
Unless Christine wanted to do
other things.
Spock closed his eyes for a
moment and tried to concentrate on pushing her from his mind. His hand burned again and he sighed in
frustration. Definitely time for a
colorful metaphor, he decided, the phrase bringing Jim instantly to mind. He raised an eyebrow at his own emotional
turbulence and turned back to the padd, determined to get some work done in
between thoughts of the two people he loved so much.
----------------------------
Christine woke slowly,
groggily becoming aware of a different hum than the one she was used to on the
Carter. She opened her eyes slowly and
took in the dimly lit cabin. Then she
remembered. She was in Sarek's little
ship, bound for Earth...bound for Scotty's memorial. The soft blanket on top of her was suddenly
too warm and she pushed it off and sat up.
She remembered Delynn giving
her a hypo. It had made her sleepy. Putting her feet on the floor, she stood
gingerly, afraid she might still be unsteady.
But she stood easily, feeling no lingering wooziness. She tried to straighten her uniform, tugging
at it to get the wrinkles out, finally giving up when it was clear she'd been
asleep for quite a long time. Walking
out of the bedroom she saw Spock working at a padd in the pilot's chair. He looked up as she approached.
"How long was I
out," she asked as she took the seat next to him.
"Fifteen
hours." He put down the padd. "How do you feel?"
She had a crick in her neck
and reached up to massage it. "Like
I slept funny. But overall? Better, I guess."
"That is
good." He met her eyes. "You were in a very dark place."
She nodded. "I packed up Ren's office."
"You did not have to do
that."
"Same thing Randall
said," she replied, with a sardonic grin.
"You two really have to stop using synchronized scripts." He gave her an odd look that she chose to
ignore. "So where are we?"
He pulled up the star charts
and pointed to their location.
"Approximately 30 hours away from Earth."
"Hmmm." She wasn't sure what else to say.
He fell silent too. A few minutes passed as they sat in silence,
then he said, "I was going to help my father pack up my mother's things
but he did not want me to move them."
She turned to look at him.
"I do not know if that
is healthy. It is as if she never
died."
Christine shrugged. "We all deal with grief in our own way. My mother was just the opposite. She got rid of everything of my father's
really fast. Said seeing it just made
her feel worse."
He nodded thoughtfully. "That would be my thought. That the constant reminder would hurt more
than the empty space."
"But you're not
Sarek."
"That much is
certain."
Another long silence
fell. "I believed he loved her more
than I ever really knew."
She glanced at him. His face was set in a hard, sad
expression. "I believe he did,
Spock." He did not reply so she
asked, "How did they meet?"
"At an embassy
function. He was new in the diplomatic
corps. She was a linguistics professor
on exchange to a Federation project. They
met at the ambassador's residence in San Francisco."
"Is that when they fell
in love?"
He looked away. "I do not know that part of the
story."
She frowned. "You never asked her?"
"I asked him once. Why he married her. He said it seemed the logical thing to do at
the time."
She laughed. "I remember. Not very romantic."
"No. But eminently Sarek." Spock leaned back in the chair. "I have had time to ponder the
sentiment. I think that he meant, but
would not say to me, that because he loved her and could not live without her,
there was no logical road but the one he took.
To marry her."
"Sounds
reasonable."
He glanced over at her. "You do not sound convinced."
She grinned. "It lacks poetry."
"Indeed." Spock frowned slightly. "It is typical of my relationship with
my father that I did not ask for clarification.
I believe that he would see the need for more information as evidence of
undue emotionalism. Yet another
flaw." He sighed softy. "All my life I have tried to make him
proud of me."
"He is proud of you,
Spock. He loves you. Can't you feel that when you're with
him?"
"I cannot." He looked over at her and his eyes were
profoundly weary before he looked away.
"But I can feel him making the attempt to reach out. Perhaps that is enough."
"Sometimes that's all we
can ask." She reached out her hand
to him, saw him take it without hesitation.
The rush of emotion she felt when he closed his fingers around hers made
her gasp.
He looked over. "The sensation is quite profound."
"It is." She stared down at their hands. "Does this always happen after the Pon
Farr."
He shook his head.
"Well, of course it
would happen to us. Nothing about this
mission is going as I thought it would."
Her tone was more sour than she intended.
He dropped her hand.
She turned to him. "I didn't mean that the way it must have
sounded."
"It is all right. The sentiment was certainly apt. Let me show you what you need to know to
pilot." He demonstrated the panels that
controlled helm and navigation, assuring her that the autopilot would most
likely take care of everything. "I
believe rest would be of benefit. Wake
me if you need me."
She nodded. As she watched him walk away from her, she
called out softly, "Sleep well."
He did not reply as the
bedroom door closed behind him.
--------------------------------
Spock slept fitfully in the
small cabin. He could smell Christine's scent on the blanket; a reminder of a
time when he'd held her as close as he was holding the soft fabric. He pushed it away from him and immediately
regretted it. Must gain control, he thought
somewhat desperately. His emotions had
been chaotic since the Pon Farr. It had
never taken this long to regain mastery of them. But then his mother had never died
before.
Spock looked around the
cabin. His mother had decorated it. Using the spare lines to create an intimate
space for his father and her. Spock
wished now that he had asked her how she came to wed Sarek. There were so many things he wished he had
said to her. Regret filled him. A profound emotion and one he was not
unfamiliar with.
He felt it every time he saw
Christine and Kerr together. The
closeness they shared could have been his.
If only.
Sad words. Jim had told him once that he thought those
were the saddest words of all. So full
of missed opportunity and disappointment.
He could almost hear his
voice. "If only I had...what,
Spock? What is it any of us would do
over in a minute if we could?"
Spock had refused to answer.
Jim had sighed and turned
away. Waiting, as always, for Spock to
get it.
"I did get it," he
whispered, the sound carrying barely past his lips. "But if only I had gotten it sooner,
t'hy'la."
He was not sure which one of
them he was talking to.
He could hear Christine
moving around the main compartment.
Heard the replicator buzz as whatever she had ordered was
delivered. He waited for the smell to
reach the cabin. Coffee. Dark and strong but then completely tamed
with milk and sugar. A contradiction.
How long had he known how she
liked her coffee? Kerr probably knew
more. He knew what she ate for breakfast
and how she acted when she woke up. Was
she happy in the morning as his mother had been? Or grumpy like Jim until that first cup of
coffee hit home?
Jim. Spock mentally calculated their ship's
position. "You died near here,"
he said softly.
He sighed, slightly alarmed
at his own sentimentality and inability to stop it. He rose from the bed and settled into the
mediation pose on the floor. If sleep
would not come, there were others way to calm his mind. It took much longer than normal, but Spock
finally reached a level of meditation that allowed him to forget, if only for a
while, the things he longed for.
When he finally returned to
full awareness, he was satisfied to see that many hours had passed. He walked out of the room.
Christine was at the
replicator again. "Hey,
sleepyhead."
He let his eyebrow rise and
was rewarded by the sound of her rich laughter.
"You want
something?"
He nodded. "Tea would be agreeable. Selection seven is the one I prefer."
"Seven it is," she
said as she punched in the request.
"Nothing exciting happened."
"That is good."
"Maybe for you. I was bored stiff." She grinned at him.
The expression fell short of
the smile he was used to, but it was better than the blank look she had worn
earlier. He was gratified to see the
woman he knew reemerging. "You are
feeling better."
She nodded. "I think it's going home. I really needed this." She walked over and handed him a mug. "Maybe it'll be good for us both?"
He nodded and sipped his
tea. "It is hard to believe Mr.
Scott is gone."
She went back to the
replicator for more coffee, then took her seat.
"I know." She
considered something. "I think this
is the way he would have wanted to go. I
can't see him being happy just getting old on some planet."
"I agree with you. Mr. Scott was a man that was used to being in
the thick of things."
She laughed softly. "Remember how he used to totally inflate
his repair estimates?"
"I do. He used to maintain that it was the only way
to keep his title of 'miracle worker' intact."
"He was a miracle
worker. He could make those engines
sing."
"The engines did not
sing, Christine."
She grinned. "You know what I mean."
He nodded.
"I wonder what he would
have thought of the Carter," she mused.
Spock did not hesitate to
answer. "He would have admired the
ship, although it would never have measured up to the Enterprise."
"Probably not. But the mission? What do you think he'd think of that?"
"He once said that the
best diplomat he knew was a fully-loaded phaser bank."
Christine laughed, nearly
spitting coffee. "He never!"
"Indeed he did. It was during our mission to Eminiar
VII."
"Yeah. I can see that." She sank down into her seat. "I served with him all that time, but I
never got to know him very well. Did
you?"
Spock could tell she was
looking at him. He shook his head.
"I wonder why?"
"You and I barely knew
each other then either, Christine. One
can serve with someone a long time and never really know them."
She nodded. "I know.
But he was so open."
"I believe that was an
act. At heart, I think he was a deeply
private man."
"Maybe you're
right." She put her coffee down and
yawned. "I can't believe I'm tired
again."
"Go lay down if you need
more sleep."
"I will. In a while." She smiled at him when he glanced over at
her. "I like this."
He didn't have to ask what
she meant. "As do I."
"It's like the old
days. When it was just you and I on the
Carter. Before..."
"Yes. Before."
Before Jim. Before Kerr. Before many things. "I was not sure we would get this ease
back, Christine. I am relieved that we
have."
He heard her small laugh and
glanced over.
She met his eyes
solemnly. "It was touch and go
there for a while."
He nodded.
She turned back to the
viewscreen and watched the stars for a moment, then reached for her carryall to
pull out some padds. They both worked in
companionable silence for several hours.
Then she yawned loudly. A few
minutes later she did it again.
"Go get some sleep,
Christine."
She got up and headed for the
back. "Wake me before we get
there? I want to see Earth get
bigger."
"An illogical
need," he said gently. "But I
will wake you."
"Must be hell to indulge
such a capricious human whim," she teased him.
He did not bother to say that
he would have indulged far more, if she had asked.
---------***-------------
Christine awoke to the sound
of Spock's voice calling her from the main cabin. She forced herself to leave the warmth of the
blanket and shuffled out to the main viewscreen.
"We will be in view of
Earth in approximately five minutes. I
thought you might want time to make coffee."
She smiled. "Thanks," she said as she walked
over to the replicator, pulling her boots on as she went. "Coffee, French roast, with milk and
sugar," she ordered, then turned to him.
"Do you want something?"
"I have tea still."
She took the mug of steaming
hot coffee out of the replicator and carried it to the copilot's chair. Sipping carefully, she sighed in
contentment. "Your replicator does
better coffee than the Carter's."
"My mother programmed in
her favorite recipes. She also preferred
dark roast."
"More robust,"
Christine agreed.
"Yes, that is the word
she used. I never developed much of a
taste for it." He looked over at
her. "I drank it, of course, at the
Academy."
She nodded. "Everybody did, didn't they?"
"Yes. It was almost a rite of passage."
"My aunt taught me to
drink it when I was little. Then I went
a lot of years not liking it. Funny how
some things taste good only when you are an adult." She leaned back. "Like squash and artichoke hearts."
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Oh come on, don't tell
me there isn't some food that you didn't like as a child?"
He considered the
question. "I did not like
applesauce."
"There you see."
"I still do not like
it."
"You were supposed to
pick something you didn't like then but you do now," she said in mock
exasperation.
"Very complex
rules," he said, as he took the little craft off of autopilot. "You should watch now."
She looked in time to see the
Earth rising up behind Jupiter. It
looked wonderfully familiar as it hung there all blue and white. "Terra mater," she said softly.
He ignored her whimsy and
continued to steer them toward the planet.
He slowed their speed as the space around them became more
congested. The comm channel beeped and
she reached over to engage the connection.
"Private craft, this is
Starfleet flight operations. Please
identify and state destination."
"This is Captain Spock
en route with one passenger in personal spacecraft to the Altamira
spaceport."
There was a moment while the
logged flight plans were checked and the ship was scanned. "Roger, Captain Spock. You are cleared for descent using a S-6-8
pattern. Please proceed, and welcome to
Earth."
"Thank you," Spock
said, as Christine cut the connection.
He moved the ship into the designated flight path and slowed even
more. "How does it feel to be
home?" he asked her quietly.
"Good," she said as
she watched the Earth swallow up the viewscreen. "It feels good."
She watched as the craft
glowed slightly with the friction from reentry, but didn't worry as the shields
compensated, keeping the inside temperature comfortable. They were in clouds for a moment, the white
fluffiness hiding everything from her.
Then they dropped out of them and she saw North America come up beneath
them. She smiled, looking for San
Francisco first, and then Seattle.
"Home," she said. She
glanced at Spock. "Does it feel
like home to you at all?"
He shook his head. "Not particularly. I have some pleasant memories of Earth, but
my home has in truth been the ships I have served on."
"Or Vulcan?"
"Less so." He adjusted their descent slightly. "I have never felt completely at ease on
either of my home planets."
"But the
Enterprise?"
"That was
home." He seemed to sigh
slightly. "And her crew was my
family."
"Mine too," she
said.
"But you left us."
"I had a good
reason. Couldn't finish med school if I
stayed on board." She frowned. "And what about you? You went off to Gol."
His face tightened and she
immediately regretted the words.
"We've never talked
about that." She watched his
expression become even tenser. "We
don't have to now, either. But maybe, someday,
you'll tell me why you went there?"
He nodded slowly. "Perhaps. Someday."
She turned back to watch San
Francisco get bigger as they approached.
She could make out the bridge and Golden Gate Park. "Such a beautiful city," she said,
trying to take his mind off of Gol.
"It is that," he
agreed.
"Not as pretty as
Seattle though."
"Someday I hope to see
it," he said, as he steered them away from the city center and toward a
private landing pad on the other side of the bridge.
"I guess it's
different. Here, it's the buildings and
the way the city is constructed to sit on the water that give it beauty. There it's the scenery, the mountains all
around especially, that make it unique."
"Perhaps someday you
will show me your home?" There was
a note of pensiveness in Spock's voice that she had never heard before.
"Maybe. Someday," she said, echoing his earlier
statement.
He glanced at her and gave
her a half smile. Then he turned his
attention back to the ship and brought it down for a smooth landing. He followed a series of lights to the small
space designated for them and powered down the systems.
Christine put her padds back
in her carry all and fastened it securely.
Spock did the same and was already opening the door when she joined
him. She went down the ramp quickly,
feeling her spirits lift as she touched ground.
"Home," she said again.
He gestured for her to go
into the main building where they found a transporter pad and an attendant
waiting for them. "Welcome, Captain
Spock."
He nodded. "We will be staying at the Crown
Academy."
"Academy stop then for
you," the attendant said as she set the coordinates.
Christine followed Spock up
the stairs to the transporter pad.
"A hotel?"
"The Visiting Officer's
Quarters were full. We could have stayed
at the Vulcan Embassy, but I thought you would find this more
comfortable."
She considered what staying
at the Embassy would have entailed and was thankful that he had chosen the less
protocol-rich hotel. "Good
thinking."
They beamed to the main
academy transport station and walked the few blocks to the hotel. Checking in quickly, they were soon riding
the elevator to their floor.
"Adjoining rooms?"
she asked in surprise.
"I do not believe
so," he said evenly. "Just on
the same floor."
As they exited the lift, she
saw from the signs that her room lay in one direction, his in another. She stopped and asked, "So what's the
plan from here?"
He motioned her to walk
toward her room and followed her inside.
"We should have some messages.
I sent Doctor McCoy a comm from the ship."
Her message light was indeed
blinking. She pulled up the comm channel
and selected the message that was waiting from McCoy.
"Glad you're coming
home, Christine. Think it'll be good for
you. Ny and I are hosting a dinner at my
place tonight. All the old crew. You two have to come. See you at five. I've attached a map."
They looked at the map. "Won't take very long to get there. We have the day to kill then," she
said. "I think I'll shower and grab
some breakfast. Did you have anything
you need to do?"
"I will meet you
downstairs when I have read my messages."
She nodded and waited till he
had closed the doors before heading to the bathroom. A short time later, she felt clean again and
more human. Ready to face the world, or
at least the coffee shop downstairs, she took the elevator down and was just
being seated when she heard someone call out, "Chris?" She turned and felt herself enveloped in a
firm hug. "Oh my god, it is you. I didn't know if you were going to make it or
not."
"Janice?" Christine
laughed in delight and let her friend lead her to her booth. "Or should I say Commander Rand?"
"I don't know Commander
Chapel, what do you think?"
They stared at each other
seriously for a moment before dissolving into identical peals of laughter.
"God, can you stand it,
Chris. Us...Commanders?"
"It's not where I would
have thought we were going back on that first year on Enterprise, that's for
sure." Christine looked
around. "Isn't Sulu with you?"
Janice smiled. "He had a meeting. I'll catch up with him later. Or at McCoy's. You're going, right?"
"You bet." Christine leaned back. "Spock too."
"So you two are
together?" Janice waggled her
eyebrows at her.
"Well not like
that." Christine tried to ignore
her memories of the Pon Farr.
"It's, you know, professional." At Janice's knowing nod, she laughed. "Besides, I'm with someone."
"Get out." Janice leaned forward. "Okay, spill. I want to know everything."
"Well, you first. Did you ever come to your senses and give
Sulu a chance?"
"Maybe."
Christine gave her a stern
look.
"Okay, yes...yes, I
did. Yes, it's great. Yes, you were right all those years. Yes, I was a fool not to trust him." Janice laughed happily. "Now tell me about this someone that
you're with."
Christine felt herself
grinning foolishly. "Well, he's
really handsome."
"What does he look
like?"
Christine thought of the best
way to describe him. "Sandy hair,
hazel eyes, nice muscles, great smile."
Janice gave her a funny
look.
"What?"
"Chris, you're
describing Jim.'
Christine frowned as she
considered that. "I guess he does
sort of look like him. I never really
thought about it."
"What's his name?"
"Lt. Colonel Randall
Kerr, head of the Carter's security section and special forces
detachment."
"Kerr? That name sounds familiar."
"It's a fairly common
name," Christine said.
"I guess. So you love him?"
She nodded, was about to say
more when a new voice interrupted their conversation. "Commander Rand, it is good to see
you."
Janice jumped out of the
booth. "Captain Spock. A pleasure to see you, sir."
"At ease,
Commander. You're at breakfast, if I'm
not mistaken."
She sat down gratefully and
grinned. "Well, not until they
bring the food, but I take your point.
You're welcome to eat with us?"
"Most kind. But I have an unexpected meeting at Starfleet
diplomatic."
"Me too?" Christine said in dismay as she began to get
up.
He laid a gentle hand on her
shoulder. "You do not have to come,
Christine. Enjoy your breakfast. I will see you when my meeting is over." He turned to Janice. "You will be at Doctor McCoy's
tonight?"
"Sulu too."
"Excellent. I look forward to catching up." He nodded slightly then left them.
Christine watched him walk
away, his long legs carrying him quickly out the door.
"Earth to
Christine," Janice whispered. She
was grinning evilly. "So, you want
to tell me when he started calling you by your first name?"
She willed herself not to
blush. "I'm his first officer,
Jan."
"Uh huh."
"That's all."
Janice laughed. "Okay, fine. So tell me more about this Kerr guy. What's he like?"
Christine thought about
that. "He's warm. And he's bright. Being with him is like walking in bright
sunshine."
"So, pretty much the
opposite of the brood king that just left us?"
Christine chuckled. "I guess so."
Janice gave her a sad
look. "He still sounds a lot like
Jim Kirk. I have to confess I'm
jealous."
"I was so sorry to hear
about his death, Jan. I can't imagine
how hard that was for you." She
shook her head. "Well, actually I
can, since Spock did die once. But he
came back."
"Yeah. Guess that isn't going to happen with Jim,
eh?" Janice looked down. "It's stupid really. I mean there was nothing between us. I'd see him every now and then in the halls
of Starfleet Command and he'd always ask me how I was. We'd catch up. He was an incredible supporter...kind of a
mentor. But that's as far as it
went."
Christine nodded
sympathetically. "Maybe he had
feelings for you that you never really knew?"
"Maybe." Janice leaned back as the waitress came with
their food. "I miss him
though. I mean, Sulu is wonderful...I
really do love him. But Jim still has a
hold on part of my heart and death hasn't made him let go."
"I do understand,"
Christine said, glad to have someone she could confide in. "Part of me will always love Spock. But that part is in the past. Randall's my future. And I'm really happy about that." She didn't have to force the silly grin that
covered her face when she thought about Kerr.
"Why isn't he
here?"
The grin faded. "I was pretty out of it. After Renata died."
"Yeah I heard about
that. Weird."
"Weird doesn't begin to
cover it," Christine said.
"And still unsolved. But I
sort of..."
"Freaked out?"
Janice prompted.
"Shut down is more like
it." Christine sighed. "I'm a doctor. I know the warning signs. I should never have let myself spiral down
that way."
"Physician heal
thyself," Janice quoted softly.
"Easier said than done."
"That's for damn
sure. Anyway, I pushed him away. And then the news of Scotty just really did
me in. It wasn't until Spock suggested
coming back for this that I began to perk up."
"So you wanted to come
alone. I mean with Spock."
Christine nodded. "You're our family. Randall wasn't a part of that. But now that I'm feeling better, I think that
leaving him behind may have been a mistake."
"Don't second-guess
yourself, Chris. If you didn't want him
here, you may have had a good reason."
"Like more time to catch
up with you?"
Janice smiled. "There you go."
Christine laughed at her
friend's enthusiasm. As she ate her
breakfast and traded gossip with Janice, she felt the last remnant of the cold
detachment that had plagued her since Farrell's death melt and fall away. I was right to come home, she thought
happily. She tried to ignore the voice
that kept insisting that she should have brought Kerr with her too.
----------------------------
Spock walked back to the
hotel from what had turned out to be, as he expected, a bit of a grilling over
Farrell's murder. Starfleet Command was
not happy to have an unexplained murder on any ship, but especially not the
vessel with the most benign mission in all the Fleet. He had decided on the way that he would not
mention the information Farrell had provided to them other than to hint at
it. None of the Admirals had taken the
bait and he had let it drop.
The lobby was full of people
having drinks or relaxing. As he walked
through, he recognized several engineers from the early days on the
Enterprise. He nodded to them, and they
seemed surprised at the gesture. Spock
nearly sighed. Had he been so
unreachable then?
As he took the elevator up to
his floor, he realized that perhaps he had.
But it was who he was. It colored
both what he had become, and the paths he had not followed.
The message light was
flashing when he got to his room. There
was a response from McCoy to Spock's confirmation that both he and Christine
would attend the dinner that night. And
a quick comm from Christine. "I'm
down at the pool," was all it said.
He changed out of his uniform
and decided to go see her before he began his meditations. The ride down to the pool level was quick and
he could feel the warm humidity of the area long before he reached it. San Francisco weather being what it was, the
hotel had built the pool so that part of it was indoors and a smaller portion
continued outside, reached by a side door or by swimming under the glass
partition. It was still cool out, so
Christine had chosen a lounge chair that was well inside.
She looked half asleep and he
stood and watched her. As if she could
sense him, she slowly lifted her head and looked right at him. A small smile played at the corner of her mouth. He walked over to her.
"What? No swimming for you?"
He pulled a regular chair
over next to her. "We have a pool
on the Carter, Christine. Have you ever
seen me use it?"
"Sure haven't," she
said as she shifted slightly in the lounge chair.
He looked away.
"Either you don't like
the suit, or you're embarrassed."
She laughed. It sounded unusually
throaty to him. "You've seen me in
less than this, Spock."
"Indeed," he said,
trying not to look at her.
"You are
embarrassed." She laughed again.
He forced himself to turn
back to her. As he admired the view, he
decided not to say that there were other emotions that would fit the situation
better.
"And you went swimming
with the whales. I remember Nyota
telling me about it."
"In the first instance,
I had to communicate with them. As they
could not come to me on land, I had to be the one to find accommodation. The second time, we all went swimming in the
bay. The ship was sinking. We had no choice."
"Ah, yes. You're lucky you weren't taken by a
shark."
"That would have ended
the mission on a somber note," he agreed as he glanced over at her
again. "You are in a better
mood."
She grinned. "It just feels so good to be here. And doing nothing feels great too."
"You would not say that
if we did not have a party to go to tonight.
I cannot see you being happy with a continual state of nothing to
do."
"You're probably
right." Her grin faded. "How was your meeting? Was it about Ren?"
He nodded.
"I figured. Was it bad?"
"Nothing I couldn't
handle. They are not pleased."
"Well no, I expect
not." Her voice held some of the
bitterness that had marked it before they left.
"We may never find out
what really happened, Christine," he said softly.
"I know." She looked at him angrily, then her ire
faded. "I'm shooting the
messenger. I hate it when people do that
to me. Sorry."
"It's all
right." He rose. "I am going to meditate for a
while. Comm me when you are ready to
leave for McCoy's."
"Okay." She pushed herself out of the lounge and
walked to the edge of the pool.
"Sure you don't want to come in?"
For you I just might, he
thought as she laughed playfully then turned back to the pool and dove in,
setting out with a sure stroke for the partition. As she disappeared underneath, he forced
himself to turn around and return to his room.
It took him some time to sink
to the level he wanted in his meditations.
But finally he achieved it and lost himself to the world. Coming out of it slowly, he saw that he had
just enough time to change into a more formal robe.
He was ready when Christine
commed him. "You all set?"
"I will meet you at the
elevators," he replied.
"Aye, aye, sir,"
she said with a grin.
She was waiting for him. When she turned to him he took a second to
appreciate her appearance. Her clothes
were simple but fit her stark features.
Her hair was down and she had put on more makeup than she normally wore. When he continued to stare, she gave him an
odd look. "What?"
"You look beautiful,"
he said as he urged her into the elevator, his hand at the small of her
back. Even in a contact so brief he
could feel her excitement at seeing their friends again, the underlying sadness
that it had taken another death to bring them all together, and a strange surge
of satisfaction that seemed to be connected with him. He considered the emotion as they rode down
to the lobby and got into a waiting cab.
As the small flitter took off, he studied her.
"What?" she asked
again.
"You are happy we are
together?"
She raised an eyebrow at him
and he found himself returning the gesture.
"You are happy that we
will be together in front of all of our friends."
Her expression changed from
questioning to one of alarm. He reached
out and took her hand, trying to read the onslaught of emotions he sensed from
her. "Or if not together, it
pleases you that I am obviously interested in you and that they will see
it."
"That makes me sound so
petty," she said, pulling her hand away.
He touched her shoulder,
"Do I appear to mind?"
She took a startled breath
and stared at where his hand lay on her shoulder. "You don't. You...you like it," she finally said.
He drew his hand back. "Did it not occur to you that I am
pleased to be with you too?"
She tried to fight the smile
that was sneaking across her face.
"It really didn't."
"Things have changed,
t'hy'la. You must get used to
that."
She shook her head as if in
dismay but could not quite wipe the smile from her face. "You are bad."
"Not at all," he
said as he turned back to watch the city pass underneath them. "Just honest."
"Sometimes they are one
and the same," she replied as she too turned to a study of the scenery.
McCoy's house came into view
quickly and the flitter set down on the street.
Spock gave the man his account number then followed Christine to the
front door, waiting as she rang the chime.
The door flew open and Uhura
launched herself at Christine.
"It's been forever."
"Ny," Christine
said, laughing at her friend's exuberance.
When Uhura let go of her, she moved aside to let her get to Spock. "Have at it," she said with a
laugh.
"Come here, you big
lug," the other woman said softly, pulling him into a gentler
embrace.
Spock held her for a moment
and whispered, "It is good to see you, Commander."
She pulled away. "It's Nyota, Spock."
"Nyota," he said,
trying it out.
"It'll take him a
while," Christine said as she followed Uhura into the house. "I thought Len was living in
Georgia?"
Uhura nodded. "He was.
But he got through about three weeks of his first summer there and
remembered why he preferred San Francisco.
He'll go back to Savannah for the winter."
McCoy turned as they walked
in. "Well look what the cat dragged
in." He pulled Christine into a huge
bear hug. "If you aren't a site for
sore eyes, darlin', I don't know what is."
He looked over at Spock and grinned.
"Certainly not that dour mug."
Spock tried to hide the small
smile that was threatening and knew he was failing. "It is pleasant to see you again as
well, Doctor."
McCoy let go of Christine and
walked over to him. "Oh to hell
with it," he said as he pulled Spock to him and clasped his arms around
him briefly. "Heck of a reason to
come home, Spock. But I'll take
it." He pulled away and turned back
to Christine. "So, you're looking a
whole lot better than the last time I saw you.
Don't tell me hanging around with that one--" he cocked a thumb back
at Spock "--actually agrees with you?"
She nodded. "I'm afraid it does."
"Well, there's no
accounting for taste." He drew her
into the kitchen. "Come tell Uncle
Len what's been going on in your life."
Spock watched them leave then
turned to say hello again to Janice. As
they stood talking, Sulu came up the stairs.
"Hello, Captain."
He nodded. Sulu looked older than he remembered. The rigors of command, especially of a ship
like Excelsior, could play havoc with a man's youth. It had never seemed to strip Jim of his,
though.
"It's old home
week," Sulu said. "If only
Chekov weren't stuck out on the Jamestown."
"He did secure that
assignment?"
"First officer and on a
real ship this time," Sulu grinned at the old rub. For him it was a starship or nothing. Spock doubted that even a modern marvel like
the Carter would satisfy him.
"You're such a
snob," Janice said, bumping against him slightly.
He took her hand. "And you aren't?" He laughed.
"You should have heard what she had to say about some of the ships
in spacedock."
Janice rolled her eyes as
Uhura came out and handed Spock a tall glass. "Christine said you like
this?"
Spock took a sip of the
stout. "It is quite good. Thank you."
Uhura's eyebrow rose in a
perfect imitation of her own.
"Fascinating." Suddenly
her good mood evaporated and she looked down.
"It seems wrong. That they
aren't here with us."
No one had to ask her who she
meant.
"To absent
friends," Sulu said, lifting his glass in the air.
Spock joined the rest in the
toast. He heard Christine and McCoy come
up behind him. When he looked over at
her, she smiled gently and joined her glass to the rest.
Only McCoy didn't join
them. "I have something to say
first. I just want you all to know that
even if I live to be a hundred, I'll never have better friends or richer memories
than I do right now. You all mean the
world to me."
"Hear, hear," Uhura
said, as she smiled through eyes suddenly bright with tears. "To the best of times."
"The best of
times," they all echoed.
Spock glanced at
Christine. She had put her arm around
McCoy and was whispering something in his ear.
As the doctor laughed, she seemed to sense Spock's eyes on her. Looking over at him, she smiled
brilliantly. A surge of regret filled
Spock and he had to turn back to the conversation for fear of what he might
betray if he kept looking at her.
The talk before dinner
alternated between catching up on everyone's career and stories of Scotty and
later on of Jim. Spock saw Christine
glance up at him in concern when the conversation first turned to Kirk. He nodded reassuringly at her and she turned
back to her food.
The evening passed quickly,
Spock was surprised to see how late it was when Sulu got up to call for a cab.
"You want to
share?" Janice asked him.
He looked at Christine to see
if she was ready. She nodded tiredly and
got up to join him. Her fingers brushed
his arm as she came to stand next to him and he realized that he could no
longer sense the lost feeling she had been giving off since Farrell died.
"What?" she said
quietly.
He shook his head.
She smiled and followed Sulu
and Janice out to the waiting cab. He
turned to McCoy. "We will see you
tomorrow."
Uhura gave him another
hug. "I'm so glad you're
here," she said as she let him go.
McCoy nodded. "Thanks for coming home, Spock. It means a lot."
Spock didn't look away from
the emotion in the other man's eyes.
"To me as well, Leonard."
McCoy's eyes brightened even
more and he just nodded. "Better go
catch up, Spock. Wouldn't want them to
leave without you."
"They will wait. I have faith in them," he said with a
wry look before hurrying to join the others.
---------------------
Sulu stood silently in the
back of the Starfleet auditorium, marveling at the number of people that filled
the hall. He'd always thought of Scotty
as a private man, one that had a few, very close friends, of which Sulu counted
himself as one. He had underestimated
the man's popularity and the impact he'd had during his stints at the Academy
as a trainer.
Sulu wondered how many people
would show up at his memorial.
"That's a dark
look," Janice said as she walked up to him. "What are you thinking about?"
He smiled gently at her. "Just pondering death."
She shivered. "Yeah, me too. I didn't expect this many people."
He nodded, not surprised that
they were on the same wavelength. It was
what made them such an effective command team.
And what made their other, more personal relationship so vital to him. He wanted to reach out for her, but they had
long ago agreed to maintain physical distance while in public. It hurt sometimes, not to be able to touch
her, but it was for the best and he knew it.
She looked over at him and
grinned. "Sometimes, I
wish..."
"Just one touch?"
She nodded. Then she slipped into her more professional
expression. "But I like my position
by your side on that fancy bridge too much to risk it."
He nodded, then his attention
was diverted by Spock and Christine walking toward them. "Funny how things worked out. Us together as a team, them together
too."
"Life, she is
funny," Janice agreed as she smiled at her friend.
Christine took her hand in
greeting then turned to look at the crowd.
"Wow."
"That's what I
said," Sulu replied. "It's
inspiring, isn't it?"
"Mr. Scott touched the
lives of many of my students. And he
continued to teach long after I had stopped.
Our own chief engineer considers him a mentor." Spock studied the auditorium with a slight
frown.
"We have seats in
front," Janice said, guessing what he was thinking.
He turned to her, "I was
wondering." He glanced at Sulu,
"Mind reading is a useful skill in a first officer."
Sulu laughed. "Yeah but when it's counterbalanced with
sheer stubbornness..."
"My condolences,"
Spock said.
Sulu and Christine laughed
but Janice pretended to glare at the Vulcan.
"Like you aren't the epitome of stubborn, Captain Spock."
"I?" he asked
innocently.
"You," Christine
jumped in. "Very, very
stubborn."
"You have never
complained."
She laughed. "To you.
I've never complained to you."
"Ah."
"Nice to see everybody's
here," McCoy's voice sounded behind them.
The group turned to welcome him.
Sulu could see Uhura out in the foyer.
He smiled at her and she gave him a sad grin.
"Everyone okay after
last night?" McCoy asked, his drawl seeming even more pronounced than Sulu
remembered it.
"Nothing like
antitox," Janice replied. "One
of the world's great inventions."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Abstinence is also an effective
countermeasure."
Janice smiled. "Effective, yes. Fun, no."
"Besides,"
Christine interjected. "It's
therapeutic to let go."
"And I saw you drinking
stout all night. So don't lecture me on
abstaining," Janice teased.
Before he could comment,
Uhura joined them and said, "It's time to go down. They're ready to begin."
Sulu allowed the others to go
ahead and ended up walking next to Spock.
"You prosper?" the
other captain asked him.
Sulu thought about that. "I do.
I love Excelsior."
Spock graced him with a half
smile. "Jim would be proud of you,
Captain."
"I think he'd be proud
of you too, Captain. Or do you prefer
Ambassador."
"I answer to
either."
Any other comment Spock was
going to make was cut off as they arrived at their seats. Sulu saw Janice waiting for him and he slid
in next to her as soon as Spock had taken a seat next to Christine.
Admiral Richter, the head of
Starfleet engineering, climbed the short stairs to the podium. "We come together to celebrate the life
of Captain Montgomery Scott."
Sulu let himself be drawn
into the man's words. Even as he
listened, memories of his years on the Enterprise with Mr. Scott played in the
back of his mind. Good-bye, Scotty, he
said, trying to send his good wishes to wherever the dying went. I'll miss you.
He felt Janice's hand touch
his for the briefest of moments. He
looked at her and saw she was crying. As
she smiled at him, he realized that he was too.
He took a ragged breath and
turned back to the speaker. A strange
feeling of being cut off, totally lost, filled him as the sound of a lone
bagpipe filled the room. His throat
tightened, and he had to blink to clear his eyes as he listened to the
plaintive strains of 'Amazing Grace.'
Nobody in the room made a
sound until the song was over. Sulu
knew that Scotty would have approved.
---------****-------------
Spock stood as the memorial
ended, following as the crowd filed out of the auditorium and over to the
officer's club across the quad.
Christine walked by his
side. "It was a beautiful
ceremony."
He nodded, wondering what
Jim's had been like. How many people had
crowded the hall for his service?
"I imagine Jim's drew an
even bigger crowd," she said as if reading his mind. When he shot her a startled look, she
frowned. "Why did I say that?"
"I was thinking
it," he said softly.
"We weren't even
touching this time." She
shrugged. "I guess it's not that
unusual for us to both be thinking of him right now. Neither of us were here for his
ceremony."
He nodded, wanting to support
her attempt to find a logical reason for the strange accord between their
thoughts but privately wondering if something more was happening between
them. Something he truly didn't
understand.
"Uhura's got a table for
us," Christine said, spotting their friend at the side of the room.
They joined the rest of the
Enterprise crew. Talk was subdued at
first. Everyone seemed to be dealing
with private memories and emotions. But
as other crewman who had served with them started coming up to talk, the
conversation got louder. Everyone seemed
to have a funny story about Scotty. Even
Spock found himself trying not to smile on several occasions.
McCoy caught him at one
occasion and beamed at him. He gestured
toward the hall and got up. Spock
followed suit. "Let's take a walk,"
McCoy said as he headed out the door.
Spock hurried to catch
up. "You wish to talk to me in
private?"
McCoy grinned. "No flies on you, my friend." He took a few more steps then said
irritably. "So what the hell's
going on, Spock?"
"I do not follow--"
"Between you and
Christine, you great green twit."
McCoy stopped and glared at him.
"Any fool can see how you feel about each other. But she's with someone else. What's that all about?"
"I do not think it is my
place to discuss her love life," Spock said as he turned to go back into
the building.
"Then discuss your own,
damn it." McCoy reached out and
touched his arm. "I know Jim's
death left you reeling, Spock. I wouldn't
expect anything else. But you have
another chance for happiness here. Why are
you letting it go?"
Spock sighed as he turned
back to McCoy. "It is not that
simple."
"Then explain it to
me."
"She chose another. That is all there is to explain."
"Well she can damn well
unchoose him."
Spock shook his head and
smiled slightly. "You would not say
that if you knew him. He is a good man,
and he is good for her. You would like
him, Doctor. Far more than you do
me."
McCoy didn't have a
retort.
Spock sighed. "I have her friendship, Doctor. It is more than I could have hoped for a few
months ago. It will have to do."
McCoy looked down. "I'm sorry, Spock. But that's just a shame." He shook his head sadly as he walked toward
the building. "Come on, let's go
back in then. Your 'friend' is probably
wondering where we've gotten to."
Spock followed McCoy in and
saw that Christine was indeed looking for them.
"Is everything okay?" she asked.
"Everything is
fine," he said, pushing her gently back into the main room.
She looked over at McCoy and
the doctor gave her a bland look.
"Can't two old friends catch up, Christine?"
She gave them both a
searching look, then went back into the reception.
"A crying shame,"
McCoy repeated as he went back to the table.
Spock didn't want to tell him
that he completely concurred in the assessment.
Giving himself a mental shake, he went back in, determined not to let
the doctor's words prey on him.
When the reception wound
down, their group headed out to a nearby restaurant as if unwilling to separate
too soon. Once they finished their meals
they moved into the adjoining lounge.
Uhura finally yawned and
said, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm exhausted." She stood up and put her jacket on. "Seeing you all...it's like I don't ever
want to walk away, but I know I have to."
There was a chorus of "I
know" and "You're right."
She laughed. "But I guess we
have to bite the bullet. So let's say
goodbye now." She turned to give
Christine a hug. "Have a good trip
back, Christine."
"I will. We have one more day here," Christine
said as she let go of Uhura and turned to embrace Janice tightly. "You're here tomorrow?"
Janice nodded. "Hikaru and I get to enjoy a day
together. It doesn't happen very
often."
Christine met Spock's
eyes. "No, it doesn't."
Spock embraced his friends,
having long ago given up the idea that he would be exempt from this particular
ritual. Uhura laughed as she hugged him
tightly. "Take care of each
other," she said, and he nodded solemnly.
As they went their separate
ways, Christine looked back and waved.
"It's hard to say goodbye," she said as she turned to face
Spock. "I feel like we'll never
have this again. That we'll never see
each other like this again."
He didn't want to tell her
that he had the same feeling.
She went on softly. "Or that the next time we do, it will be
because another one of us is dead."
He wanted to tell her she was
being overly dramatic, but he had did not think she was far wrong. Finding himself eager to change the subject,
Spock asked, "Do you want to go to dinner tomorrow night?" When she shot him a look, he said, "I
realize you plan to eat."
She laughed at their old
joke. "When don't I?"
"I meant to
somewhere..." he searched for the appropriate word.
"Fancy?"
"Yes," he said,
deciding fancy was a better word than the only one he was coming up with.
"Romantic," she
said it for him.
He sighed, almost resigned
that she was going to know what he was thinking. "Perhaps," he said.
She laughed. "You know what would be perfect?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"Gerard's. A window seat." She made a face. "Like that's going to happen. I've never managed to get a window seat
there, and I used to eat there all the time."
"Perhaps our luck will
be better," he said softly.
"You never know,"
she agreed. "What are you going to
do tomorrow?"
"I plan to see
Saavik." He looked at her. "And you?"
"There's someone I need
to see." At his raised eyebrow, she
shook her head. "Not like
that. Ren's father."
"That will not be an
easy visit."
"No, it won't. But I owe it to him." She looked over at him. "Will your visit to Saavik be
easy?"
"I do not know. She and I never regained the closeness we
once had."
"I remember Uhura
telling me she and Jim became quite friendly."
He nodded slowly. "They seemed to find some solace in each
other." He looked away. "I pulled away from her, from him too,
after I died. Jim and I found a way to
recreate our...friendship. Saavik and I
never did. I regret that."
"Regret is a useless
emotion, Spock."
"But a powerful
one. So much done that cannot now be
undone." He hoped that she didn't
realize that he was not only referring to his relationship with Saavik.
"Build some bridges,
Spock. It's never too late."
"Isn't it?"
She met his eyes and he knew
that she realized that he was talking about them too. She looked away quickly. "For some things, maybe. But not for friendship. Just try."
"I will try," he
said, as he followed her into the hotel.
They rode up to their floor in silence.
"I'm glad we came,"
she said as she turned to walk down the other hall to her room.
"It is easier with you
here," he replied.
She turned, walking slowly
backward as she looked at him. "It
is easier. Good night."
"Good night,
Christine. Sleep well."
"You too," she said
as she turned and walked quickly away.
-----------------------
Christine took a deep breath
before ringing the door chime. I have to
do this, she repeated silently. I have
to do this.
The door opened and an
elderly man looked out. She could tell
he was trying to place her.
"Admiral Farrell?"
"Yes." Recognition suddenly dawned and he
smiled. "Christine, you didn't have
to come all this way."
She smiled. "I was on Earth for another reason. I thought I'd come see how you were
doing."
"Come in." He moved aside to let her in. "You'll have to excuse the mess."
The house was
immaculate. She smiled at him. "There's never a mess here, sir."
"I like things--"
"Ship shape and Bristol
fashion," she finished. "Yes,
I remember."
"Sit down. Can I get you something?"
She shook her head. "I just wanted to say how sorry I
am. About Ren. I know that doesn't even begin to cover
what's been taken away from you but I wanted you to know how much I miss
her." She found herself choking up
and rushed through the last part.
He sat down next to her and
took her hand. Patting it, he said,
"I miss her too. I've been putting
away her things. Trying to decide what
to do with them. She always told me to
leave her room be unless something happened to her." He looked down. "My baby girl."
"She loved you."
He nodded. "I know.
Rennie was my girl. It was just
the two of us against the world for so long.
Now it's just me." He shook
himself, as if he could get rid of his pain that way. "Can you tell me how it happened? I'm getting stonewalled on this end every
time I ask."
"We're not sure
exactly. We don't even know who did
it." She tried to decide how much
to tell him and finally settled on asking, "Did Ren ever mention doing
work on the side...for some section?"
Farrell stiffened.
"Sir?"
He seemed to almost force
himself to relax as he shook his head and said, "She sure didn't,
dear."
"She never went away on
missions that couldn't be explained by her normal work?"
"What do you want me to
say, Christine?" He gave her an
intense look. "It might be better
if you didn't go around asking questions like this."
"Better?"
He sighed and his look turned
very sad. "Safer."
She stared at him. There was definitely a warning in his
expression before he tore his eyes away, rising suddenly. "There's something here for you. I almost forgot." He disappeared down the hall and a minute
later was back, carrying an envelope.
"She wanted you to have this.
Said not to give it to you unless something happened to her. Said it was important."
She took the envelope; saw
the hasty scrawl that was Ren's handwriting.
"Thank you."
"You going to open
it?"
She nodded. "Later."
"Fair enough," he
said as she pushed it into the pocket of her coat. "Why don't you let me take you to lunch
and you can tell me all about this brand new ship of yours? I hear it's quite a wonder?"
She stood up. "I'd like that."
He held out his arm and
Christine took it, trying not to think that it should have been Ren and not her
that was here with him--that somehow it was her fault Ren wasn't.
-----------------------
Saavik's neighborhood had an
Asian flavor, and Spock walked slowly through the narrow street, savoring the
smells. He stopped at a store window,
his attention caught by a small figurine.
As he walked in, the shopkeeper looked up, "Something I can help
you with?"
"There is a goddess in
the window."
The man smiled. "There are lots of goddesses in the
window. Which one do you like?"
Spock pointed at the one that
had caught his eye.
"Green Tara. Good choice." The man removed her from the display and
wrapped her in tissue. Handing her to
Spock, he rang up the sale and entered Spock's account number.
"Thank you," Spock
said as he put the statue in his pocket and walked out.
"Come back again,"
the man called after him.
Spock wondered if he would be
in the neighborhood again. His
relationship with Saavik had been anything but warm for some time. He checked the address he had written down
and turned down a path between two larger buildings, following it to a small
house that sat behind them, surrounded by gardens. He looked for a chime to ring but found none. Some wind chimes hung over the doorway and he
reached up and tapped the clapper. A
loud, resonant tone sounded.
He heard her footsteps behind
him and without turning, said, "Saavikam, it has been a long time."
"Yes," she said, as
she brushed past him and opened the door.
"It has." She turned,
her arms full of flowers. "Come in,
Spock. I was just in the garden. You are earlier than I expected. I have not even made tea yet."
"I do not need
tea."
"Nevertheless, it is
customary." She studied him. "Do you still prefer green?"
"Whatever you have is
fine."
"I have green as well as
others. Which do you prefer?"
Her face was perfectly Vulcan
in its cool disdain. Where was the
vibrant young girl he had known? The one
that had work so hard to tame her Romulan side?
"I prefer green," he finally answered.
"I will make that
then." She indicated he should go
into the other room. "Make yourself
at home."
He knew she did not mean that
literally. Wandering around the small
living room, he realized that several of the statues she had displayed had been
in Kirk's house. He picked one up that
he remembered giving to Jim. It was the
carving of a sea captain, legs braced wide against the ocean swell, a spyglass at
his eye. It had reminded Spock of Jim
when he'd first seen it and it still did.
"Do you want that
back?" Saavik asked as she carried in a tray.
"He did not leave to
me."
"He didn't leave it to
me either. I took it because I liked
it. But you gave it to him." She laughed and the sound surprised him. When he turned to look at her, she turned an
elegant eyebrow up. "I am still
half Romulan, Spock. And I have learned
to come to terms with that. He helped
me."
Little hellcat, he thought,
Saavik's childhood nickname coming easily to him now. So angry then. So angry now. "You were quite close?"
She sat and poured his
tea. "We were not lovers if that is
what you are asking. Although many
seemed to think so. He was kind to me at
a time when you were not. He was
a--"
"Father to you," he
finished for her. "Yes, I know."
She handed him his tea, the
picture of civilized refinement. He had
the feeling she would have preferred to hurl it in his face. He took a sip then set it on the side table. "I am sorry, Saavikam."
She shrugged. "How could I compete with Valeris? She outshone me in every possible
way." She cocked her head and
studied him. "She hurt you, didn't
she?"
He nodded.
"Good." She picked up the teapot. "More tea?"
He shook his head. "Yet you never said a word."
"What was I supposed to
say, Spock? That you needed to love me
too? That you needed to remember
me? That I was lost when you died, and
even more lost when you came back and didn't know who the hell I was?" She breathed deeply and sipped her tea. "At least with Jim you were able to
forge new memories."
He looked down. "I wish things had been different. I regret...I regret much."
She studied him for a long
time. "I believe you do. You are different, Spock. What has happened to you?"
"Life has happened,
Saavikam. As it always does."
Her mask of politeness
dropped and she let him see a moment of true emotion. "I heard about Amanda. I am deeply sorry. You know I loved her."
He nodded. "Thank you."
The mocking look
returned. "Something else has
happened to you though. What is it? It can't be that you're in love. You've been there before and we know how much
that mattered in the face of your stubborn pride."
He tried not to let her see
how her words hit home.
"What then? Can you not tell me, Spock? For old time's sake?" She shot him a scornful glance. "Why are you suddenly so
approachable?"
"You were half right,
little hellcat."
She smiled at the
nickname. "Then I was half
wrong. Explain it to me."
"I think not."
She stared at him
intently. "Perhaps you have finally
lost in love? Is that it? The one you love doesn't want you? Now that's rich."
"Is mocking all you can
do?"
Her expression changed
instantly to one of outright rage.
"He died alone."
"I had a ship to
launch."
"You could have been
there. You could have postponed. He would have in your place."
"I did not think to do
so."
She stood up and began to
pace. "Whose name do you suppose
was on his lips when he died? Who do you
think he was probably thinking of?"
She turned her back to him, breathing hard, trying to regain control of
herself. "He loved you and you were
off with your new ship and your new crew."
She turned suddenly. "This
person is on your crew aren't they? Even
then you were replacing him?"
"You don't know how it
was between us. And you don't understand
my current situation."
"Then tell me. He wouldn't. No matter what you did, he
wouldn't speak badly of you. 'You don't
understand him, Saavik,' he'd say to me.
And he was right. I didn't understand you. I still don't. I never will.
Even after Valeris betrayed you, you didn't come back." She angrily wiped her eyes. "He loved you and you just walked away
from him."
Spock closed his eyes. "That is not true. You know that we tried for a while to make it
work, Saavikam. But too much time had
gone by. Too many things that we could
not do over again. Too many things in
our past getting in the way. Valeris. Antonia."
"Antonia was good for
him. But she wasn't you."
"And that was probably
for the best. It might have worked for
them. If he had been different."
"You blame him?"
He fought back
frustration. He did not speak of
this. It was too painful. How did one explain love that was too much,
too strong? That would not die but could
not be contained either? "He moved
on, as did I. Without acrimony. We knew that we would always love one
another. But we also knew that we could
not make it work any longer. It was the
way it was, and we accepted that. Why is
it just you that cannot let go of what was?" He stood up and walked across the room to
her. "Perhaps you should admit that
the problem was that I never came back for _you_?"
"Why would I
care?" Her words were tough, but
the sob that accompanied them told another story.
"Little one, if I did
anything wrong it was to abandon you as if you had never meant the world to
me. That was wrong. I freely admit it. I do not know how to make it up to you, or
even if I can. I do not know if it is
too late for us. But I would like the
chance to try."
She stared at him and all he
saw in her eyes was hatred.
"Little hellcat,"
he said softly. "I was wrong. Please forgive me?"
At his words, her expression
shifted to one of utter confusion.
"Please, Saavikam. I am sorry.
Too many years have gone by. I
don't want any more to pass with this enmity between us."
She stared at him, unshed
tears bright in her eyes. "I loved
you and you didn't even care. I lost
everything to Genesis. You. David.
My future."
He nodded. "I know."
She sniffed and wiped her
eyes. "Are you expecting me to just
throw myself in your arms and then everything will be all right?"
"Expecting, no. Hoping is perhaps the better word." He took a step toward her, then another. Reaching out, he touched her hair; let his
hand run down the course strands he had tried so hard to tame when she was
younger.
She stared at him while he
touched her. "I kept you alive on
Genesis."
He met her eyes, not sure
what she was trying to say.
"The burning..."
Why had that never occurred
to him? "Saavikam, I beg
forgiveness."
"I couldn't let you
die." She suddenly collapsed into
his arms. "I loved you. I had to keep you with us. For me.
For him. You were the only father
I'd known."
"Shhh," he pulled
her closer and let her cry out her anger and pain. "I'm so sorry, little one."
They stood there for a long
time, then he felt her relax slightly and he led her over to the couch.
"I cannot make up the
time we've lost."
"No, you
can't." Her look was fierce, then
it became gentler. "Maybe we could
start over. From this point
forward."
He nodded.
"If only Valeris had
never existed," Saavik whispered.
"But she did. She does."
She looked startled. "You haven't heard?"
"Heard what?"
"She went mad. In prison.
They had to move her to a different facility. The Valeris you knew is no more."
He felt as if he'd been
punched. Mad? She'd gone mad? The meld he'd forced...
"Spock?"
He pushed Valeris ruthlessly
from his mind. He would not allow her to
come between Saavik and him again.
"That is a pity. A waste of
a brilliant mind."
Saavik seemed satisfied by
his answer. She gingerly reached for his
tea and handed him the saucer.
"It's gone cold."
He smiled slightly. "That's all right. I imagine it will still taste as sweet."
She grinned. "Would you like to see the garden?"
He nodded. "Will you tell me how you are? What your path is now?"
"It's a long
story."
"I have plenty of
time."
Her happy smile was reward
enough, he thought, as he followed her out to her flowers.
----------------------
Christine knelt in front of
the small plaque on the lowest row of the columbarium. Two of her friends, this close together. "Captain Montgomery Scott," she
read softly. "Lieutenant Commander
Renata Farrell." The space was too
small to include much more than the pertinent dates. She knew that Ren's ashes lay behind the
beautifully inscribed silver. Scotty's
remains were lost forever. The space
behind his name was empty, as were many of the others in the long marble
line. "Wherever you are,
Scotty," she whispered. "I
hope you're happy."
She put the flowers she'd
bought in the small vases attached to the plaques. Farrell's was empty, but Scotty's already had
several flowers in it. She had to work
to get the red rosebud into the small space.
As she did, she had a strange certainty that someone was watching
her. It wasn't a scary feeling, more
like a warm rush of presence. She smiled
and turned, saying, "Spock."
He was standing a few feet
from her. His eyebrow went up as she
said his name. "I did not think you
heard me come up."
"I didn't," she
said as she rose and walked over to him.
"I just knew it was you."
"Knew?"
She thought about the feeling
she'd had. "I sensed you."
"Fascinating. Do you often do that?"
She thought about it. "On the ship, I usually know where you
are. I mean if you're in your ready
room. Or off the bridge entirely."
He nodded. "But like this?"
She shook her head. "Weird, huh?"
"As is much of our
interaction of late," he gave her a small smile and reached into the
pocket of his uniform coat. "I
thought you might like this. To add to
your collection."
Christine unwrapped the
package and examined the small brass goddess.
"She's beautiful."
"The vendor said she was
Tara."
"Green Tara,"
Christine corrected as she studied the goddess's face. "I don't have her yet."
"I did not remember
seeing her among the others."
"Good memory." She put it carefully in her pocket next to
the envelope Renata's father had given her.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome,"
he said as he turned and walked slowly down the length of the columbarium.
She hesitated for a moment,
knowing where he was going but uncertain if she was welcome.
He turned and held out his
hand. "Come with me?"
She smiled softly and hurried
to join him, taking his hand and feeling a spark of tenderness rush through her
as she did so. Her eyes met his. "It really does seem to happen every
time we touch now."
He nodded.
"Is it unpleasant for
you?" she asked.
His eyes were very gentle as
he shook his head. "Is it for
you?"
"No," she said, and
felt him tighten the grasp.
They walked in silence toward
the marble structure that was reserved for Starfleet's greatest heroes. The inside was warm and quiet, recessed
lighting giving way to discreet spotlights over each luminary. No one else was inside. "Captain James Tiberius Kirk,"
Christine said quietly. The memorial was
tasteful and very cold. "He would
hate this," she finally said.
"Yes," Spock
answered. "He wanted to be buried
underneath the pines on the property he loved so much. Not here in this cold marble."
"Didn't Saavik fight
this?"
"As his executor she
could have...if there had been a body.
But this is only a memorial. It
is not up to her, to any of us, to say how Starfleet will honor him."
She could feel the sadness
welling up within him where their hands touched. She expected him to let go but instead he
pulled her closer. "I miss
him," he said simply. "I miss
her too...my mother."
She leaned her head on his
shoulder. "I know. I miss Ren.
And my mom, even after all this time." She could feel him react to her own pain as
he rested his face against her hair.
"It never really goes away.
The hole they leave."
"No. It does not."
"We just get better at
covering it up."
"Or avoiding it,"
he said softly. "Pretending as if
it isn't there, was never there."
She nodded. "As if they never lived." She thought of Farrell's empty vase.
"They live as long as we
remember them. That is how the saying
goes, is it not?"
She smiled. "It is."
They stood that way for some
time before he led them back outside. He
pulled her hand up, studying their clasped fingers. "Flesh to flesh...such a comfort,"
he murmured.
Again she felt the
tenderness, then he let go of her. His
expression seemed very sad before his more professional mask slipped in
place. "How did your meeting with
Mr. Farrell go?"
"It was hard. But I needed to do it. He gave me a letter Ren wrote me."
"A real letter?"
She nodded. "Must have been a while ago that she
wrote it. She would have just commed me
if it had been while she'd been on the ship."
"Yes," he agreed.
"How was your visit with
Saavik?"
"It ended pleasantly. I was not sure at first that would be the
case. But she prospers. And finds her own way to live."
He fell silent and she
sneaked a look at his face. He seemed
troubled. "What is it?"
"She had news of
Valeris."
When he didn't continue, she
asked, "Bad news?"
He nodded. "She went mad in prison."
Christine sighed. "Some people cannot take captivity,
Spock. It's been proven in quite a lot
of studies."
"It was the meld,"
he said so quietly she almost couldn't make out the words. "The meld I forced on her."
"You don't know
that. Did Saavik say that?"
He shook his head and walked
a little faster.
Christine touched his arm,
stopping him. "You didn't do this
to her. She made a choice."
"I hurt her,
Christine." He looked down. "I wanted to hurt her."
She reached up and touched
his cheek gently. "And you regret
that. I felt how much you regret it when
you had to do the same thing to me."
He covered her hand with his
own, pushing her palm tightly against his face.
A wave of self-loathing passed through her. Then regret and shame.
"No," she said as
she pulled his head to her own, letting their foreheads touch. "You didn't do this." She put every bit of her certainty into her
words, tried to make him feel that she believed in him. "She made a choice, so did you. It is what is. You can't change it, Spock. But I don't believe you did this to her. It may have pushed her over the edge, but she
was teetering already."
"You did not know
her. She was confidence
personified."
"On the outside, but
what was her true mental state? You can
never really know that." She let go
of his face and pulled away. "What
did you feel when you forced the meld?
Confidence?"
He nodded.
"What else?"
He thought carefully before
answering. "Cunning. Pride.
Hatred. Rage. Fear."
"Those things can eat
you alive, Spock. You know
that."
He didn't reply for a long
moment. Then in a shamed voice he said,
"She laughed at me."
"What?"
"When I melded with
her. She laughed at me. She taunted me. Said that I would never hurt her because I
wanted her, because I loved her."
"And you did."
He nodded. "I did love her. Was so proud of her. But in that moment, I hated her more than I
had ever hated anyone. I wanted to hurt
her and I did."
"All right, you
did. But now, you're a different
person. I know that. You need to know that."
"And she can never know
that." He turned away. "She will never know that I regret my
actions."
"Spock, if she really
knew you at all, she'll know that."
He looked at her. "Is your faith in me so
unshakeable? I was unkind to you not
very long ago."
"You were hurting,"
she said, faltering slightly as she realized where he was going with his
logic. "And being unwilling to
share is not the same thing as being unkind."
"You are determined to
not see my logic."
"You're right," she
said, as she led him in the direction of their hotel. "I know the truth. And the truth is you didn't cause this. She caused it when she chose betrayal."
He suddenly shivered. "I spoke of Valeris once with my mother
and she told me that we choose betrayal because it often seems the shortest
road to what we most want."
"Your mother was a wise
woman, Spock."
"She would have liked
you." His expression was very
tender as he corrected his statement.
"She would have loved you."
As they entered the hotel,
she smiled back. "And I would have
loved her."
----------------------
Janice waited as Sulu placed
a chrysanthemum blossom in the small vase attached to the grave marker. She closed her eyes for a moment, sending her
own version of good will and remembrance to Lieutenant Selto, Sulu's first
casualty after taking command. There had
been others since but Sulu always visited Selto's grave first. Except for today when a stop at Scotty's
marker had come first. She smiled. Her captain was a man of tradition but not a
hidebound one.
He looked up at her and as
his eyes met hers, she felt her tension drain away. He had always had this power: the ability to
make her feel at home and safe. It was
why she had valued his friendship for so long.
And why she had always been reluctant to ever reach for more. The thought of losing this refuge had been
more than she could stand.
He rose gracefully and walked
up to her. "A penny for them?"
She shook her head. "You'd be getting gypped."
He chuckled. "I'm never that when I'm with
you."
"Always the charmer,
Hikaru," she teased gently. They
both knew he was anything but a womanizer, and that she was anything but immune
to him. She may have been afraid to
reach out for more, but he hadn't been.
His campaign had been gentle, considerate, and utterly ruthless. By the time it had occurred to her to resist,
it was too late. Not that it was easy
being lovers--they had to be discreet but she didn't mind. Knowing he was there made everything else
that had gone wrong in her personal life bearable.
They worked their way over to
Scotty's newly inscribed plaque. Sulu's
white chrysanthemum had been joined by several other flowers. Janice looked around to see if she could spot
anyone she knew but the cemetery around them seemed empty. She looked down the row at the heroes'
hall.
"Do you want to pay your
respects?" Sulu asked, following her gaze.
"I already did. Yesterday."
He grinned. "So did I."
"Guess we both wanted to
remember Kirk our own way." She
made a sheepish face.
"I've learned to not
even try to compete with him," Sulu said with a wry smile. "Besides, he was the best role model I
ever had. The finest captain I've ever
served with."
She nodded. "Me too." Janice was about to say more when her
attention was captured by two familiar figures walking out of the hall.
Sulu turned to see what she
was looking at just as Spock lifted his hand.
They could see that he held Christine's hand in his.
"Well that's not
something you see everyday," Sulu mused.
"Gotta give her credit. It
may have taken all these years, but she got him."
Janice watched Spock drop
Christine's hand as the two walked away from where she and Sulu stood. Spock and Christine appeared to be having an
intense conversation, made even more intense when she reached out to stop him
and, standing very close to him, touched him more than Janice would ever have
believed Spock would allow. Why hadn't
Christine mentioned this? Why had she
only referred to her colonel? "But
she's with someone else, Hikaru."
He made a dismissive
sound. "I hope he's not too fond of
her."
"No, I mean it. I know what Chris sounds like when she's in love,
and when she was telling me about him she sounded like that. She loves him."
Sulu indicated the still
touching couple. "Then what do you
call that?"
"I'm not sure. I wonder if they are?"
"This other guy, he's on
the Carter?"
Janice nodded. "Head of security. Special forces too. Randall Kerr." She frowned again. "Does that sound familiar to you? Because I've been wracking my brain trying to
figure out where I know that name from."
Sulu considered for a moment,
then said, "Starbase 14. We'd
stopped in at the lounge while we picked up supplies for Gamma Epsilon. Wasn't he that big guy that was with
Christine's friend?"
Janice pointed down at
Farrell's plaque. "Her you
mean?"
He frowned. "Yeah."
"I think you're
right. He was the one that looked a bit
like--"
"I'm well aware of who
he looked like," Sulu said with a stern look. "Why do you think I hustled you out of
there?"
"You never let me have
any fun."
"I'm a nice guy but I'm
not stupid, Jana." He grinned.
"No, you're anything but
stupid." She was still
puzzled. "I wonder what they were
doing together. Renata didn't go for
guys. Even ones that looked a lot like a
certain captain we both knew."
Sulu shrugged. "It's a big galaxy. Especially if you're a special forces
type."
"But Renata Farrell
wasn't that type. I guess it really
doesn't matter. It looks like Chris has
other things on her mind right now than how I might know her boyfriend. Her other boyfriend. I mean...god, this is confusing."
"You don't suppose the
three of them?" Sulu asked very quietly.
She slugged him in the
arm. "Hikaru, that is insane. Can you see Spock doing that?"
"You were the one that
said this Kerr guy looked like Kirk," Sulu grinned devilishly.
"I won't listen to
this. I just won't." She put her fingers in her ears and sang,
"La la can't hear you la la."
He laughed and gestured
surrender. When she unplugged her ears,
he said, "Let's get some dinner, Commander Rand."
"Isn't it a little early
for dinner, Captain Sulu?"
"Gives us time for other
things," he said as his look became very predatory.
She didn't have to
reply. They both knew that she loved
that look.
--------****------------
Kerr was missing Christine
more than he liked to admit, even to himself.
It's just a memorial; he'd
tried to tell himself a hundred times since she had left. Just because she and Spock are going to it
together doesn't mean that anything is going to happen.
If he were Spock... Kerr frowned.
If he were Spock he knew exactly what he'd want. The same thing Kerr wanted. Christine.
The chime of an incoming comm
interrupted his reverie. He hit the
switch, hoping it would be Christine. As
the screen lit up, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Renata Farrell looked back at him.
"Well, hey there,
Randy. You're probably feeling pretty
safe about now?" She grinned
meanly. "Or else your whole world
has gone to hell, which would be my personal preference."
"Ren?"
She went on as if he hadn't
spoken. "This is a recording. I'll say that now so you don't embarrass
yourself by talking back to it. Although
knowing you, you probably already have."
"You bitch," he
muttered under his breath.
"That's not a nice thing
to say," she laughed, and he wondered if he had always been this
predictable. "But perhaps
accurate." Her smile faded. "If you're watching this then I've been
dead for a few days. I knew you'd block
all my outgoing transmissions after my cover was blown. And knowing you, I'm probably still blocked. For outgoing comms...to anyone but
you." She suddenly pretended to be
looking past him. "Christine isn't
there, is she? Hey Chris, let me tell
you about your boyfriend."
Kerr realized he had been
holding his breath and slowly let it out.
"Get to the damn point, Ren," he muttered.
"Nope, guess she's not
there. Oh well, no matter. She's probably already read that little
message I sent to her." She made a
moue of petulance. "Oh wait. If you blocked my messages, maybe you
intercepted that too."
Kerr thought about Nako, how
she had managed to catch the transmission before it went to Christine. "Not me," he whispered.
"If that happens, then
she'll never know. And you'll
win." Her expression turned
sly. "Or maybe not. Maybe I found another way of getting the
information to her. It might take a
little longer than a comm message, but she'll get it eventually. I've made sure of that, Kerr. It might be today, tomorrow, or maybe a few
months from now. But she'll find out the
truth. Unless you can stop
it." She laughed again. "Figure out where I sent it, how I sent
it, and when she's going to get it. A
lot of variables, Colonel. And what did
they teach us at all our training? Oh
yeah: 'Control or eliminate as many variables as you can'."
His jaw tightened at her
words. It was one of the reasons they
had worked to get him close to Christine...to have a means to find out what she
and Spock were thinking and planning. To
make sure it didn't interfere with their other...less benevolent mission. He swallowed convulsively. But something went wrong. He fell in love. He wasn't supposed to do that. Ren never did.
"So good luck finding
it, Randy. It really makes me happy
thinking of you trying to chase it down."
She chuckled. "It makes me
even happier thinking of you failing utterly." She reached for something off screen. "Have a nice life, Colonel Kerr."
The screen went dead. He saved the message to a secure file and
took a deep breath. Could she have done
it? He'd locked down every
communications channel that he thought she might try. He'd even checked all the outgoing priority
shipments waiting for beam out. There
had been nothing that had looked out of the ordinary. He'd scanned everything just to be sure.
The only way something could
have gotten off the ship was if it had been in the general delivery. He'd checked the manifests once. He pulled up the lists again and started to run
down them, crosschecking anyone he didn't know against the previous month's
lists to check for prior occurrences.
Everything checked out. Except...
He hit the comm switch. "Kerr to Nako."
"Nako here,
Randall. What can I do for you?"
"Do you know a Martin
Cantwell in New Mexico?"
She thought about it. "I don't believe so. Should I?"
"You sent him some woven
goods maybe? His address is a gallery in
Santa Fe."
She smiled. "Oh, of course. I sent him some of my weavings to sell for
charity. Why?"
He couldn't hide his
disappointment. "No reason,
Nako."
"Is something
wrong?"
"I'm afraid the enemy
knight just sent a late salvo."
She frowned. "Really?"
He nodded. "Claimed to have sent a backup copy of
that information you intercepted.
Traveling a circuitous route but ultimately intended to go to one
person."
"This is not good."
"That's the
understatement of all time."
"I will be right
over." The channel went dead.
As Kerr ran his hands through
his hair and waited for her, he desperately tried to figure out a way to stop
the inevitable. And failed
miserably.
Nako arrived quickly. "Tell me exactly what happened."
He called up the file and let
her see it. When it finished, he
shrugged. "I can't find anything
out of the ordinary. I thought maybe the
one from you..."
She frowned. "Are you sure she really sent
something?"
"You're the damn
psychic. You tell me."
"I have told you before,
I cannot see all. Nor can I change what
is. It may be that I cannot stop
Christine from finding out about your past."
"Maybe you should have
thought about that before you murdered Farrell?" Anger and frustration made him mean but she
did not appear offended.
"Maybe so," was all
she said.
He sat down heavily. "Nako, I'm sorry."
"I know you
are." She took the seat next to
him. "Would she be likely to say
she sent something if she had not really done it?"
"Without a doubt. She loved spinning people's heads like
that." He sighed. "I just don't see how she could have
gotten something out. I had this place locked
down tight."
"I believe you,
grandson," Nako said, patting his hand gently. "I also believe that you must be on your
guard."
"That's what my
superiors said too. About the
Romulans."
"So they believed our
little story?"
He nodded. "They sure appeared to. Seemed to find the Tal shiar connection very
interesting."
"As I thought they
would. This is not a complete red
herring. Trouble is coming from that
quarter, Randall. And your superiors
know it."
"So I'm suddenly an
important asset again."
She nodded. "As we hoped."
He looked down and whispered,
"Sometimes, I just feel like telling Christine everything. Stop all these lies and secrets."
"You must do as you
think best, grandson."
He looked up at her, met her
calm eyes and sighed. "I'd lose
her."
She nodded again. "Quite possibly."
He stood up suddenly and
began to pace. "I'm losing her
anyway, Nako."
She cocked her head to one
side and made a skeptical face.
"Why do you say that?"
"She's with Spock."
"So?"
"Alone," he added
bitterly.
"Yes."
He made a small gasp of
frustration. "The king and queen,
Nako. Remember them? Alone.
Together. Far away from me. Makes for a rather volatile situation."
"This has always been a
volatile situation, my dear. Surely you
are not just realizing that?" She
stood up slowly. "You must decide
what you can and cannot accept."
"I don't like the sound
of that."
"I imagine
not." She rested her hand on his
arm as she passed him. "She loves
you, Randall. Never forget that."
"That's easier said than
done."
"Try," she said
with a compassionate smile, as she left him to deal with his gloom and fear
alone.
--------------------
"Are you going to open
it?" Spock asked, looking at the envelope Christine was holding.
"Yeah." She stuck it in the inside pocket of her
traveling bag. "Eventually."
"You remember the comm
Jim sent me?"
She nodded. How could she forget? He had been very angry with her when she had
pressed him to open it. "How long
did it take before you read it?"
"Quite a few days. I thought you knew that?"
"It was none of my
business what you did with it." She
turned away. "We'd already had one
fight about it. I didn't want a repeat."
He touched her shoulder
gently. "I am sorry, Christine,
that I shut you away from me."
She shrugged slightly and his
hand fell away. "We can't change
the past, Spock."
"No. We cannot.
Or the futures that our past actions have created."
She stiffened.
"I lost you then,"
he said. "I cannot remedy
that."
She turned slowly to look at
him. He was standing very close to
her. "Would you want to?"
He looked down. "There is much I regret."
"That's not what I
asked."
He met her eyes. "Would you change what is?"
She thought of Kerr and shook
her head.
"I did not think
so." He turned away from her.
"Maybe there's another
Spock and Christine that aren't apart.
In some other universe, where you didn't shut me out and I didn't choose
him?" She smiled. "I don't remember much of my quantum
theory classes, but I do remember that part."
His lips turned up
slightly. "Do they prosper, this
version of us?"
She grinned. "They are very happy."
He nodded. "That is good then. Perhaps at dinner we should drink a toast to
them."
"Yes." She went to the closet and grabbed her
sweater. "Shall we go?"
They walked slowly to the
waterfront. Christine enjoyed the
freshness of the cool San Francisco air.
She loved the Carter, but it was good to be back on Earth.
"It was agreeable seeing
our shipmates again."
She smiled. "It was.
Thank you for arranging this."
"We both needed
it."
"Yes, we did." She laughed.
At his look, she explained.
"We've come so far since the last time we were here together. For that stupid training."
He nodded. "We have."
"I remember dreading
that class. And then when I walked in
and you were there..."
"I had the same
trepidation."
"Were we dysfunctional
or what?" She had a sudden picture
of herself hosing down Kerr and Spock in the greenhouse. "Not that our current situation is any
kind of model for normalcy."
"It is somewhat
unusual," he agreed.
"Did I ever tell you how
much I admire your gift of understatement?"
"I do not believe so,
Christine."
"Well, I do," she
said as they arrived at Gerard's. The
maitre'd led them to a table in the front.
"You called ahead?" she asked in surprise.
"You said you have
always wanted to sit at a window table.
Did I misunderstand you?"
"No, but I didn't expect
you to get us one."
"There are times it is
beneficial to be a...how did the owner put it?
Ah yes, a 'living legend.' I, of
course, tried to downplay any claim to fame I might have."
She laughed. "Naturally. You'd never trade on your name just to
impress a dinner companion."
His eyes seemed to
twinkle. "Unless she was a very
special dinner companion."
"Flattery will get you
nowhere," she said sternly. But
she couldn't help but smile.
"Of course not," he
agreed as he turned his attention to the menu.
When the waiter came by,
Spock ordered his normal stout.
Christine ordered a single-malt scotch.
"In honor of Scotty," she said to Spock.
"Most appropriate,"
he nodded. "Should I change my
order?"
"Have you ever had
scotch, Spock?"
"Jim used to drink
it." He seemed less than enthusiastic.
"Stick with your
stout. Ireland will have to be close
enough." Spock nodded, clearly
relieved. They placed the rest of their order and the waiter moved on.
Christine noticed the people
at the next table pointing to something out in the water. As she turned to see what had captured their
attention, a small plume suddenly exploded from the water. "George and Gracie," she said
softly.
Spock turned to see. The whales were moving smoothly past the
pier, a collection of small boats trailing alongside. "And family," Spock added.
"Four calves so
far," Christine said.
"You are a whale
aficionado?" He sounded surprised.
"A man that I used to
see was a fan." She saw Spock's
look and laughed. "Not like those
boaters. Larry was a scientist. Decided to go into cetacean biology when
these guys showed up. He was that
besotted with them."
"And you weren't?"
She smiled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to insult your
whales."
"They are not _my_
whales, as you well know, Christine."
Her smile faded. "They may not be anyone's, Spock. One breeding pair? How do we expect them to survive?" She watched the small pod swim out of
sight. "Even if they have twenty
calves before they die, there won't be enough genetic diversity. Within five generations, they'll start to
suffer abnormalities, genetic weaknesses like inbreeding depression. It's likely they'll be extinct again in as
little as twenty generations unless we find a way to add some spice to those
chromosomes."
He looked away thoughtfully. "We brought them here to die then."
"All things die,
Spock. And if the stories we all heard
about your adventures getting them here were right, they were about to be
killed when you beamed them up."
"That is
true." He took a sip of his stout. "Perhaps samples of whale DNA will be
found, from before they were hunted to extinction."
"Perhaps," she
agreed. "It's what Larry and the
others on his team were looking for.
Last time we talked, he thought they might be on to something in
Australia."
"You have not talked to
him recently?"
She shook her head. "We really had little in common other
than science." She looked
down. "I'd sworn off Fleet men in
those days. Only I should have
remembered that I'd sworn off obsessed scientists before that."
"Your life would have
been very different if Doctor Korby had not been lost. We might never have met."
She nodded. "I guess there's a universe for that
too. I can't imagine what that would
have been like now. I mean to not have
been on the Enterprise? It just seems
inevitable that I served on it, that I knew you and everyone else. If there is a Christine Chapel that never
did, I wonder if she's happy?"
"You will never
know." He held up his glass. "I believe we were going to toast a different
alternate Christine Chapel?"
"And to her alternate
Captain Spock." They clinked
glasses and she frowned. "You know,
there may be others of them out there.
Like a Spock that came to visit me after a certain awful incident on
Platonius?" She glared at him in
mock ferocity.
"Or a Christine that did
not leave my cabin quite so quickly when she brought me soup that second
time." He raised an eyebrow.
She laughed. "Or here's one. A Spock that didn't hang out with Dr. Kalomi
when he should have been enjoying that spore-induced euphoria with me."
"I seem to remember
passing you and Lieutenant DeSalle while Leila and I were out walking. You appeared to be quite busy at the
time."
She blushed at the memory of
exactly what she and DeSalle had been doing.
"Nevertheless..."
"Point taken," he
said quietly. "But the fact remains
that any of those people are only alternate versions of us. We cannot go back and make those choices
again."
"No, we
can't." She took a sip of her
scotch and savored the smooth warmth.
"You never did say if you wanted to."
He did not look away. "I am not sure that I would be able to
live that moment differently even if I wanted to." He reached out and touched her hand. "And I do want to."
Her skin where his hand touched
hers felt as if it were on fire. She
could sense regret...and desire. He
pulled away. "I'm sorry. I have no right to do that."
"Did you do it on
purpose...send me those feelings."
"No, but that you should
sense them was not precisely unexpected given what has been happening between
us. I...I should not have touched
you."
She studied him for a moment
before saying carefully, "Shouldn't I be the judge of that?" Their eyes locked and the expression on his
face was so intimate that she suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Why had she said that?
She was saved by the arrival
of the waiters with the salad. Spock ate
silently and she followed his example.
She was relieved when he kept their conversation between courses light
and professional. Clearly he had no wish
to go to whatever dangerous land they had nearly been headed.
They lingered on the
waterfront for a long while before heading back to the hotel. Spock was very quiet on the way and she
frowned as she whispered. "I
shouldn't have said what I said at dinner."
"There seem to be many
things we should not do," he replied as he led the way into the
hotel.
It was like their first days
on the Carter as he walked her to her room.
She turned around to say goodnight only to find him standing very close
to her.
"So many things we said
we would never do again." His eyes
did not leave her face as he took the key from her and opened the door.
"Never again," she
murmured.
"Hard words, I
find." He handed her the key, and
she backed into the room holding the door open.
She stared at him and found
herself saying, "Do you want to come in for a while?"
"I do not know if that
is wise."
"We're both
adults." She stepped aside. "Please?"
He moved past her and she let
the door close softly. The city gleamed
softly outside the large window and she walked around him to admire the
view. "It's beautiful," she
murmured, very aware that he had moved to stand behind her.
"It is," he said
huskily.
She watched his reflection in
the dark window. Held her breath as she
saw him lean down, his lips touching her neck, his hands settling on her
arms. Waves of desire buffeted her as
soon as his skin touched hers. She
moaned and turned around, staring intently into his eyes. "I love you," she said, her voice
cracking slightly as his desire hit her again.
His lips claimed her own and
his fingers found the meld spot. As his
mind joined hers, he let go of her face and began to undress her. She could feel his hands running over her,
could also sense what he was feeling as he touched her.
*I love you, Christine.*
The onslaught of emotions
threatened to overwhelm them both. *Want
you so much,* she managed to convey.
His answer was to pick her up
and carry her to the bed. She helped
him pull his own clothes off, kissed him as they fell to the bed, moaned as he
entered her. He deepened the meld and
she could no longer tell where she ended and he began. The experience seemed to last forever.
Until it was over. And she came down from the places he had
taken her.
And remembered that she had
made a promise. A promise she had just
broken.
She felt Spock's dismay
through the meld as well. Regret warred
with the immense afterglow of pleasure that they both still felt. Guilt vied with desire only barely slaked.
"We should not have done
this," she whispered.
"It is too late to undo
it."
She felt his hurt. "You thought..."
"It is irrelevant what I
thought." He rolled off of her to
lie on his back, staring at the ceiling.
"I love him."
"I'm not sure he'd agree
with that statement were he to walk in right now." Spock's pain made his words sting. He turned to look at her. "Do you want me to leave?"
She touched his chest and
felt another flare of desire. Knowing she
should pull away but helpless to resist, she whispered, "No," as she
leaned in to kiss him again.
He pulled her to him almost
savagely. His lips were demanding and
passionate and she gave herself up to them completely.
When they finally pulled apart,
she said again, "I want you."
"But you belong to
another."
She nodded. "But that doesn't change what we've
done. Or that we're here now."
"Or that you want
this?" He stroked her skin lightly,
causing her to shiver. "We have
tonight?"
"But only tonight. And then never again."
"Hard words to hold to,
Christine."
She nodded. "I know."
His mind in the meld was
tinged with a sadness she had never heard there before. *Your terms are acceptable.*
For a moment, she wondered if
he should leave. Wondered if this was
fair to him?
In answer, he pulled her on
top of him. *I will have you. Do not consider ending this before the night
is over.*
She kissed him as she moved
against him. Too many emotions assailed
her to analyze any one of them, so she quit trying and just surrendered to the
sensations their bodies were experiencing.
Over and over. It was nearly
morning before he permitted her to fall into an exhausted sleep.
------------------------
Spock held Christine against
him as he watched the curtains lighten with the rising sun. She turned slightly and wrapped an arm around
his waist, snuggling in against him in a way that made the breath catch in this
throat. Why did she have this effect on
him? Why did he want her so?
He stroked her face, slowly
waking her up. She made a sleepy sound
that he found unbearably stimulating.
Pushing her onto her back, he kissed her, at first gently then more
roughly. His hands found the meld point
before he could stop himself. *Wake
up," he urged.
*Spock?* she asked in a
mixture of confusion and desire that tempted him beyond any power to
resist. She came awake beneath him,
pulling his face down to hers for a fierce kiss, matching his passion with her
own as she moved against him.
*Never again,* he sent to her
as she arched beneath him. He felt his
own body release and repeated, *Never again.*
They lay silently then. Minds and voices stilled as their breathing
slowly returned to normal. He
reluctantly released the meld.
"I'm sorry," she
finally said.
"For what?" he
asked, as he eased off her. Settling by
her side, he pulled her to him.
"There is nothing to be sorry for, Christine."
She burrowed against him, but
the motion lacked the sweet spontaneity of earlier. Asleep she had been his forever. Awake, they both knew that this moment would
end. Soon.
But not just yet, he thought,
as he pulled her closer. "Somewhere
we are together," he whispered, not expecting her to hear him.
*Forever,* she answered in
his mind, surprising him. That she could
reach him so easily when he was letting the meld ease was nearly
impossible. Normally only a bond--
He touched her face
worriedly.
*Spock?* her mind voice was
startled as she felt him demand reentry to her thoughts.
As she let him in, he heard
her say again, *Spock, what is it?*
He checked for the bond. Perhaps inadvertently in their passion he had
lost control and she had allowed him to make the connection complete.
There was nothing.
He pulled out of her mind and
tried to block her. She followed him
easily, her alarm making her voice loud in his head, *Spock, what the hell is
wrong?*
He masked his own worry and
soothed her. "It is nothing."
*What?* she asked again, then
followed his example and switched to words, "Spock, talk to me."
"It is nothing,
Christine." He distracted her with
gentle kisses until it was time for them to get ready to leave. He went to his own room to clean up and
change. As he packed his things, he
tried to make sense of what had happened.
He had not lost control, as he had feared. But if they weren't bonded, then what exactly
was going on between them?
He had ample time to think
about it as he flew the sleek Vulcan craft out of the private spacedock because
Christine seemed determined to say nothing.
"Are you all
right?" he asked gently.
She did not answer.
"Are you going to speak
to me at all on this journey?"
"I don't know," she
finally replied.
"If I have lost your
friendship, then what we shared was not worth the price."
She swiveled her chair to
face him. "You haven't lost my
friendship, Spock."
"Are you
sure?" He busied himself with
plotting the course into the autopilot.
"I just feel
guilty."
He waited.
"And I can still feel
your touch."
He still waited.
"And I like it, I like
that feeling," she whispered.
"And I feel guilty that I like it."
He reached over and touched
her hand. He could feel exhaustion
rolling off her in waves. "You are
very tired, Christine. You did not get
much sleep last night. Why don't you
rest for a while in the back cabin?"
"What about you? You didn't get any sleep last night, did
you?"
"I don't need as much as
you do." She seemed about to
resist, so he said, "I think you will feel much better when you are not so
tired."
She swiveled back away from
him again. "I'm fine."
"You are not." He finished the autopilot sequencing and
turned to her. "T'hy'la, what we
have done is probably wrong, perhaps ill considered, and most certainly would
hurt the colonel if he finds out. I do
not intend to tell him. I do not know
what you plan to do. But until you get
some sleep, I do not think you can assess how you are or what you will do when
you face him again."
"You think I'm
awful."
He raised an eyebrow. "I am uncertain how that interpretation
was derived from what I said, Christine.
I think you are tired."
"I want to go back to
him."
"So I assumed, or your
'never again' caveat would not now be in effect."
"Again." He glanced at her and she continued. "In effect again. It was in effect, but then it was lifted, and
now it's in effect again."
His lips lifted
slightly. "I assume now would be an
inopportune time to ask if it might be lifted again in the future?"
She stared at him and for a
moment she seemed confused, then she started to laugh. "I forget sometimes that you joke."
He decided not to tell her
this wasn't one of those times.
She stood up. "I guess I will get some sleep. Then maybe you can rest when I wake up."
"That would be
agreeable." He tried to push the
thought of her sleeping in his arms out of his mind. Never again.
He was rapidly beginning to
dislike those two words intensely.
He felt her hand on his
shoulder, was overwhelmed with a powerful mix of guilt, regret, and love. She leaned down and whispered, "Thank
you for last night." Then with a
kiss on the cheek, she was gone.
He waited half an hour before
he walked to the back cabin. She was
lying on top of the covers, curled on her side.
He went to the closet and pulling down the blanket, covered her gently
with it, denying his urge to touch her.
Leave her, he ordered himself sternly.
As he turned to go back to the controls, he could not resist a last
look. "You're welcome," he
whispered as he let the door close behind him.
-----------------***-------------------------------
Kerr was getting antsy. He knew that Spock's yacht had landed on
Vulcan and that he and Christine had transported up shortly thereafter. But he hadn't heard from her and it was
making him nervous. He tried to
concentrate on work but couldn't focus on the words he was trying to read. Damn it.
Why didn't she contact him?
The chime on his door
startled him. "Come in."
She walked in. He studied her carefully, the emotionless
face, the rigid posture and his hopes died.
Then suddenly she broke into a huge smile and hurried to him. He caught her up in his arms, pulling her
down onto his lap. He had just enough
rational thought left to order the computer to lock the door before her lips
were on his and he was drowning in her.
When she finally pulled away,
she looked him squarely in the eye and said, "I love you." Her expression was soft and gentle and
loving. The look of the woman he'd fallen
in love with and he was glad to see her back.
But also, he realized with some primitive part of his brain that
operated solely on intuition, it was the look of a woman that was trying
desperately not to appear as if she had something to hide.
He leaned back and brushed
the hair off her face, studying her expression as she looked at him
seriously. "The trip home did you
good," he finally said.
She nodded.
"Being with him did you
good too," he continued.
"Randall, nothing
ha--"
He put his finger over his
lips. "Shhh. Don't lie to me."
She didn't look away, seemed
to be thinking what to say next. When
she opened her mouth, he pushed harder on her lips.
"I mean it. Don't lie to me." He let his finger press down for a long
moment, then moved it gently over her lips and across her cheek.
She sat quietly, slightly
tensed as he continued to touch her.
"I missed
you." He tightened his hold on her
with his other hand. "So
much."
She leaned in and kissed him
tentatively and he pulled her closer, not caring how rough he was being. Not caring until she suddenly winced and he
touched her lip where his teeth had cut it, washing the blood lightly away with
his tongue. He saw her eyes widen as he
pulled away.
What good is a promise if
it's not kept? he thought, even as he began to take off her uniform.
"Randall, please--"
He shushed her with a kiss,
far gentler this time, and didn't pull away until he felt her respond to
him. "I love you," he said as
he felt her begin to undo his uniform.
"I'm glad you're back."
"I am back," she
said as she rose only to settle back on top of him, breathing a sharp gasp of
pleasure as their bodies connected.
He echoed her, holding her as
she began to move, staring hard into his eyes.
He realized that she was no longer trying to hide anything from him.
He wondered why he didn't
care more.
As she threw her head back
and made the low, wild cries he loved he didn't have to wonder. It meant everything to have her back in his
arms like this. As he followed her into
pleasure, muting his moans in her hair and clutching her tightly, he heard her
whisper, "I love you, Randall."
He knew it was true. He also wondered if she'd said the same thing
to Spock.
--------------------
Christine slowly made her way
back to her quarters. Having sex with
Kerr in his office had been out of character and wildly unprofessional. But she'd felt an overwhelming urge to see
him, to make sure that their relationship was as it had been when she'd left.
To make sure she hadn't
ruined everything.
She hadn't intended to give
anything away. Yet he had known
immediately. She remembered his
restrained violence with a shiver. It
hadn't frightened her exactly, but she had not been completely certain what he
would do.
But he had done what he
always did. He had loved her. Completely.
Unequivocally. Passionately. With his eyes wide open.
"Christine, wait
up." Kerr was hurrying to catch
her.
She turned, waiting for
him. "What is it?"
There was something in his
grin she'd never seen before. Something
haunted. "Shift's almost over. I've been working lots of overtime with you
gone. Thought I'd knock off a little
early so I could spend time with you?"
She smiled. "I'd like that."
They walked together to the
lift and rode it to deck two. "Are
you hungry?" she asked as they entered her quarters. She was already moving to the replicator when
his hand on her arm stopped her.
"What is it?"
He moved closer to her,
pulling her into his arms. "I
missed you." His kisses were sweet
and gentle--more tender than she could ever remember.
"I missed you too,"
she said softly as she returned his caresses.
As she looked into his eyes,
she saw the haunted look cross his face again.
She reached up and touched his cheek gently. "I don't want to hurt you." The words were out before she could call them
back.
He stared hard at her before
he leaned in to kiss her again. His
reply was so soft she barely heard him say, "Then don't."
"I won't," she
said.
"That sounds like a
promise, Christine. And promises seem to
be hard to keep."
She looked down. "I'll try not to."
"Better," he
replied in a harsh tone as he urged her to the bedroom.
She tried to gauge his mood
as he pulled her clothes off and found herself unable to. His kisses were intense, his hold on her
possessive, but his eyes were gentle as he made love to her. Gentle and just a bit sad.
I'm hurting them both, she
realized.
"Love you," he
whispered as he moved inside her.
"I love you," she
replied as she surrendered to the pleasure he was giving her.
When they finally lay still
he pulled her close to him and didn't say anything, just held her for a long
time. When she became restive, he let
her go. "Do you want something to
eat now?"
She nodded. "Something light."
He got out of bed and went to
the replicator. As she listened to him
getting their food, she glanced over at the carry all sitting on the chair next
to the bed. She suddenly remembered the
envelope that Farrell's father had given her and moved across the bed to grab
the bag. Digging through it, she pulled
out the envelope just as Kerr walked in with a tray.
"What's that?" he
asked as he set the tray down on the now vacant chair.
She tore the seal. "Something Ren wrote me."
When he said nothing, she
glanced over and saw that he was staring at the envelope. His expression was no longer open or
gentle. He was looking at the letter as
if it were his worst enemy. "What's
the matter, Randall?"
As she watched his face, she
had the strange impression that some inner struggle was going on inside
him. Finally, his expression falling
into one of resignation, he said, "Just read it, Christine."
She frowned.
"Read the damn
letter," he said, his dead tone at odds with the words.
She unfolded the sheet of
paper. "Dear, Chris. Remember back in emergency ops when we said
that if anything happened to us, we didn't want the people we loved to not know
how much they meant to us? Well, that's
why I'm writing this. Obviously, I'm
dead if you're reading this. Dead. The word brings on some very weird
feelings. Terror and an odd sense of
peace. Like my worries are over and I
can finally relax and just be me. A lot
of people don't know the real me. But I
think you did. Or as much of me as I
ever really let out. I can't really
explain that, but maybe by now you know what it means.
"During our tour
together, you learned a lot about me and I learned a lot about you. Well that tour's over and now we're on our
way to different assignments. I don't
know what lies ahead for either of us.
But I wanted you to know that I love you and that I'm so proud of
you. You've come so far and grown so
much in this job. I admire that, and I
wanted you to know that I'd be proud to serve under you again.
"So I guess I just
wanted to say that. And to leave you
with my parting wisdom. Remember, we
said we'd do that too. So here's what I've
learned over the years: Things aren't
always what they seem. Trust shouldn't
be given completely. Love someone. And of course, never eat the banana pudding at
the Academy lunchroom."
Christine found herself
laughing and looked up at Kerr. He was
staring at her tensely, confusion coloring his expression. She handed him the letter and watched as he
read it quickly. When he looked up, she
had a strange impression that he was enormously relieved.
He handed the letter
back. "That was nice."
She nodded. "It was hard saying good-bye after
working together in emergency ops. We
were like extensions of each other and then, bam, it was all over and she was
going her way and I was going mine. I
missed the hell out of her."
Christine closed her eyes as memories of Farrell dying overwhelmed
her. Tears threatened and she looked at
Kerr searchingly. "I miss her
now."
He held open his arms and she
went willingly into them. As she cried,
he soothed her. "Shhh,
sweetheart. It's okay."
Christine stopped trying to
keep the pain in, letting him anchor her as she wept. When she finally stopped, he didn't let go
and she didn't pull away...she didn't ever want to pull away from his love
again.
-------------------------
Spock was just leaving his
quarters when Christine's door opened and Kerr walked out. The colonel saw him immediately and stopped,
a strange look on his face. As an uneasy
silence fell between them and they both looked away, Spock had the bizarre
notion that the man knew or at least suspected what had happened between
Christine and him. He glanced at
Kerr. The look he got back was decidedly
hostile.
He was surprised that
Christine would have told him. But
perhaps she didn't have to. Kerr was a
man of deep intuition.
"Welcome back,
sir." Kerr's wary look did not
lessen.
"Thank you,
Colonel. How is your investigation
going?" Spock walked the few steps
to join the other man, then kept walking.
Kerr fell into step with
him. "It's going nowhere,
sir." He followed Spock into the
lift and rode with him to the bridge. "Did
you want to discuss it further?"
"If you don't have
anything pressing," Spock said evenly.
"Nothing that can't
wait," Kerr replied as he followed Spock to his ready room.
"Please sit." Spock took the chair at his desk. He looked up and met Kerr's eyes. There was a tense anger warring with a more professional
expression on the colonel's face. As
Spock watched, professionalism won.
"The leads we had are
all coming up cold. The refit
crewmembers all have alibis. And no one
can remember a stranger working with their units. So if it was someone that was masquerading as
a tech, they must have come on board alone and left that way too." Kerr sighed.
"Which, given what Farrell said about this 'section' of hers,
pretty much tracks to what I'd expect."
"So this remains an
unsolved mystery." Spock leaned
back in his chair. "How is the crew
taking this?"
"Not well. A lot of people are scared. Afraid that there is a killer
loose." Kerr sighed. Then he met Spock's eyes in an intense
look. "In time, if there are no
more incidents, they'll settle down and life will return pretty much to
normal. But it won't be right
away."
Spock heard a different tone
in Kerr's voice. The colonel was not
just talking about the murder. He did
not know why he felt compelled to ask, "And if there are more of these
incidents?"
Kerr's look darkened but he
did not answer.
"The question is
irrelevant," Spock finally said.
"We both know that this was a unique occurrence."
"Do we?"
"You expect more
murders?"
Kerr smiled in what Spock
could only think of as a dangerous way.
"Were we talking about the murder?"
"I believe we were. At first."
Kerr's posture became even
more rigid. "Sir, with all due
respect, I think we've reached the end of this conversation."
Spock nodded, unsure why he
was deliberately baiting the other man.
"You are no doubt right. So
we will consider the investigation closed?"
"I don't have any other
avenues to explore." Kerr relaxed
slightly. "I'll send you my report
as soon as I get to my office."
"Very well." Spock studied him. He felt an overwhelming need to try to reach
out to Kerr, even though he knew that it was probably a terrible idea.
"Was there anything
else, sir?"
"Do you play
chess?"
Kerr immediately
stiffened. "Sir?"
"Three-dimensional
chess. Do you play it?"
"On occasion."
"It is a diversion I
greatly enjoy. Had I known you played, I
would have asked you for a game."
Kerr let out a small bitter
laugh. "I kind of thought we'd
already played a few."
Spock found himself
responding with a half smile. "It
does feel that way at times." He
became more serious. "If I asked
you, would you play?"
"Now?"
Spock shook his head. "Some evening."
Kerr considered and Spock
gave him credit for not coming up with a glib but meaningless 'yes', or an even
more likely 'no'. Finally Kerr leaned
back in his seat and shook his head.
"It's not an easy question to answer."
"Why? It is just a game."
Kerr pursed his lips. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Of course."
"I don't know the
details and I don't want to know them. Christine
got lost and somehow you found a way to bring her back. I feel as if I owe you for that. On the other hand, I have a feeling I know
what was involved in that recovery. And
I don't like it at all. In fact, it
would be very easy to hate you right now, Captain. With that in mind, it's somehow hard to
imagine the two of us sitting down to a friendly little game of chess."
"Who said it would be
friendly?" Spock replied evenly.
Kerr laughed, obviously taken
by surprise by the joke. "Well,
that's true."
Spock waited.
"This is the damnedest
situation," Kerr finally said.
"We agree on that."
Kerr suddenly stood up and
walked over to the viewscreen. "The
thing is...I can't blame you."
Spock turned to watch him.
"I took her from you
when you weren't looking."
"Actually, I was
looking," Spock corrected softly.
"I was just too distracted to care."
"Guess that's changed,
huh?" Kerr asked without turning around.
When Spock didn't answer he went on, "She didn't tell me, in case
you were wondering. I just
suspect."
Spock sat silently, not
knowing what he should say. Silence
seemed the most logical course.
Kerr glanced over at
him. "Cat got your tongue?"
Spock shook his head
slowly. Their eyes met and locked for a
long moment. Then Kerr turned back to
the view of the stars.
"I gather chess is out
then?" Spock said into the silence.
Kerr exhaled loudly and it
took Spock a minute to realize that sound was caused by amusement. "Oh, what the hell," he said. "What the god damn hell, Spock."
They both seemed to realize
at the same time that this was the first time Kerr had ever called Spock by his
name. Kerr looked nonplussed for a
moment, then he grinned.
Spock had a hard time
deciphering all the emotions that seemed to reside in that expression. "So, you wish to play?" he asked in
confusion.
"Sure. Why the hell not." Kerr shook his head as if at his own
folly. "But not tonight. I've got a date."
Spock sensed that the words
were meant to warn as much as hurt him.
"Of course. Another
time."
Kerr started to walk out and
then turned back. "Tomorrow
night. After dinner."
"Tomorrow then."
Kerr nodded, then he grinned
again. This time the expression was pure
evil. "I hope your strategy is
first-class, Spock, because I'm a really good player." His grin grew wider. "And I always play to win."
Spock slowly raised an
eyebrow. "You mean at chess?"
"Well now, that's a damn
good question, Captain."
"Another mystery,"
Spock replied, knowing the words would bring them back to their original topic
of conversation.
Kerr's grin died, replaced
with a more somber expression.
"I'll have the report on Farrell's murder up to you at once."
"Thank you," Spock
said as he watched the other man leave.
As the door shut, he got up and walked out to the bridge. Christine was already there.
"Captain," she
greeted him with a smile that seemed somewhat shyer than usual.
"Commander," he
replied as he sat down next to her.
"Kettering just called
up. The repairs are finished. We can leave whenever we get our orders. Saldusta has relayed that news to Starfleet
Command."
"Excellent," he
replied. "I am getting tired of
seeing my home planet on that screen."
"I think we all
are," she said with a conspiratorial grin.
"Any idea what's going to be next for us?" She leaned back and smiled. "Just no viruses for a while."
He nodded. "There are several ongoing conflicts
that might benefit from our presence."
"Ongoing and conflict
are two words I don't like together," Christine said softly. "But you should see how Myrax just
perked up."
He did not need to turn
around to know it was true. The entire
bridge crew seemed suddenly more alert.
"Message coming in from
Starfleet Command, sir."
He looked over at
Christine. "What do they say,
Lieutenant?"
She smiled at him as Saldusta
said, "We are to proceed to Livornin, best speed."
"Are you sure about
that, Lieutenant?" He looked at
Christine; she seemed equally mystified by the assignment.
"Yes, sir. There have been a number of
disappearances. Including several
Federation science teams."
"How is this a
diplomatic mission? There's nobody on
Livornin except our own researchers.
Shouldn't they send a science vessel?" Christine didn't hide her disapproval of
their mission.
He looked at her and made a
small expression of agreement.
Saldusta continued. "They are sending background
material. Directly to you,
Captain."
"I'll take it in my
ready room. Commander, if you
will?" Spock rose. "Set a course for Livornin, Lieutenant
Sabuti. Lieutenant Kimble, best
speed."
"Aye, aye, sir,"
Kimble said.
Sabuti did some quick
calculations, then said, "Estimated arrival: four standard days."
"Well it's not because
we were the closest ship, that's for sure," Christine muttered as she rose
to join Spock.
"Lieutenant Sabuti, you
have the conn," Spock said, then preceded Christine into his office.
She walked over to the
viewscreen, unconsciously choosing to stand in the same spot Kerr had occupied.
He watched her for a moment,
then asked, "Are you all right?"
She turned to look at him and
smiled slightly. "I feel like my
old self, if that's what you mean?"
"That is some of what I
mean. Is everything else all
right?"
She looked down. "I think he knows."
"I believe you are
right."
Her head jerked up and she
frowned deeply. "You talked to him
about it?"
He shook his head. "Not in so many words." He decided to disregard the last part of the
conversation when he and Kerr had talked about it less ambiguously. "I think he wanted me to know that he
suspected."
"Great." She walked over to one of the chairs in front
of his desk and sat down with a huge sigh.
"This just keeps getting worse."
"Not
necessarily." Spock gave her a
small smile then turned to the computer.
"We are going to play chess tomorrow evening."
"You and
Randall?" She looked
suspicious. "Whose idea was
that?"
"Mine," he answered
as he called up the information that was coming in from Starfleet Command on
Livornin.
"Chess?" She laughed softly, it was a slightly
hysterical sound. "Spock, don't you
think that's just a little weird?"
He didn't turn to look at
her. "Everything about our various
relationships is odd, Christine."
"Well, I know, but what
are you thinking? That you two can be
friends?"
"Would that bother
you?"
She had to think about
that. "I just think it's unlikely,
is all."
"Perhaps you are
right. And if so, I imagine that I will
find out tomorrow." He turned to
her. "I am sending you the
information that Starfleet has sent."
"Okay," she
rose. "I'll read it in my
office."
He nodded and turned back to
the monitor. He could hear her walking
to the bridge door then she stopped.
"Do you like him?"
she asked.
He swiveled his chair to face
her. "I do."
She nodded, her face very
serious. "I think he likes you
too."
"Well then perhaps our
chess game will be enjoyable for all involved."
She made a face. "All involved except me. I'll be the one wondering what the hell you
two are talking about. Or if you both
will survive the night."
He smiled slightly. "Do we strike you as violent?"
She raised an eyebrow, subtly
mocking him. "In a
word...yes."
He made an aggrieved
sound. "I do not agree with that
assessment."
"Oh of course not, where
is the logic in violence?" She
grinned at him, then her smile turned softer.
"Did I say thank you? For
bringing me back?"
He nodded. "All night, I believe." He felt a contrary surge of satisfaction when
she blushed at the memory.
"Well," she went
on, trying to ignore his comment.
"Thank you."
"We helped each other,
Christine. It is what friends do, is it
not?"
She nodded. "It is." With an affectionate look, she turned and
walked out the door.
Friends, he thought. It would have to do. He stared at the door for a long moment
before sighing slightly and turning back to begin reading up on their next
mission. It took him an unusually long
time to immerse himself in the text.
----------------------
"Sir?" his
assistant said over the comm. "You
have a package. Shall I bring it
in?"
"I'll come out,"
Penhallon, glad for a distraction, rose and walked out to Lieutenant Maddox's
desk. The younger man handed him a small
parcel and Penhallon studied it curiously.
"It's been scanned?"
"Yes, sir. By the couriers and I scanned it myself. It looked funny to me."
Penhallon nodded. "Well, let's see what it is." He unwrapped the first layer of durawrapping
and stopped. The next layer was marked
for his eyes only.
"Guess the fun's over
for me," Maddox grinned at him as he turned back to his work.
"Guess so,"
Penhallon agreed as he took the parcel back into his office. He carefully opened the wrapping and found an
old fashioned envelope, with a handwritten note fastened to it. "What the hell?"
He hit the comm,
"Maddox, where did this come from?"
"Does it need to be
removed, sir? I can call security."
"No, it's nothing. I'm just curious," Penhallon asked, as
he studied the signature on the note.
Curious was an understatement. It
wasn't every day that you got a letter from a dead woman.
"The manifest said it
came from the Terrax colony on Luna."
"Thanks." He cut the connection. "But where did you come from before
that?" he asked the letter. He
studied the note again. Hastily written,
as if she had decided at the last minute that he would be the one that would
receive the larger letter.
"Stephen - I know I can
trust you. I know you care about her
well-being. There are some things you
should know about Colonel Kerr and me.
Some things you need to make sure that Christine knows. The letter will explain it...read it and
you'll understand why this is so important.
Read it, then give it to her. I'm
counting on you. - Renata"
He took the note off and
opened the envelope. What was inside
shocked him both in terms of the information laid out but also because of the
vitriol he sensed underneath each word.
He was a master of the subtle insult, the barely noticed slice, and this
letter was clearly intended to do more than just inform. Each word was designed to flay Christine even
as it crucified Kerr.
He really didn't like that.
He put the letter down and
leaned back. Letting this new
information flow into what he already knew of his shipmates. So Farrell and Kerr were both part of the
section? He could accept that this was
more than likely true. He'd been in
diplomatic too long and had too many connections not to know what the section
was in the most general terms. He'd
never tried to find out who exactly was in it or what its ultimate goal
was. That had never mattered to him
before.
He touched the letter
gingerly. But maybe now it should
matter. The information Farrell had laid
out in this letter would hurt Kerr. He
wasn't sure he wanted that.
It would also hurt Christine
and he knew that he didn't want that.
He sighed heavily as he
pushed the letter back and forth with his thumb. What to do?
Finally, he picked up the
letter and stuffed it in his uniform. As
he closed his office, he said to Maddox, "I'm calling it a day. Why don't you do the same?"
Maddox shook his head with a
rueful grin. "I'm behind on my
reports. I'll just stay here a while
longer."
Penhallon frowned. "I thought you had a date with Ensign
Darvis?"
"I do. I mean I did.
She cancelled and wants to reschedule.
Is that a bad thing?"
Penhallon sighed. "It depends on why she did it. If you see her in the mess hall with someone
else, then I'd say yes. If you see her
in sickbay getting a headache remedy, then I think you're okay."
"I wish I had your touch
with the ladies, sir."
Penhallon smiled. "No, I really don't think you do. Good night then, Paul."
"Good night, sir."
Penhallon hurried to the lift
and up to deck two. He managed to get to
his quarters without running into anyone.
Once safely inside, he took the letter out again and considered what he
knew.
Farrell worked for the
section. As did Kerr. Farrell wanted to out Kerr both as a section
operative but also as someone that had been essentially prepped to win
Christine's heart. But why? Why would Farrell want to hurt Christine that
way? Penhallon surmised that Farrell
would only do this if Kerr were no longer working for the section. Therefore, Kerr must have pulled away from
them and this was her revenge.
But if Kerr had pulled away,
that showed a strength of character, or a commitment to his new life, that
Penhallon admired.
But the fact that the
information had come to him through such a bizarre route meant that Farrell had
known that someone, most likely Kerr, was watching incoming and outgoing
shipments.
Penhallon believed he was the
only one outside of the captain, Kerr, and Commander Chapel that knew that
Farrell had let the Psi 2000 virus loose.
He had expected Spock to put Farrell off at the first Starbase, but she
had been killed before that could happen.
Killed...murdered. And Kerr had probably been running the
investigation. Was it possible that she
tried to blackmail him into helping her stay on board? And if she did, could Kerr have killed her to
silence her? Would he have done
something that desperate to keep Christine?
Penhallon sighed. He'd seen the way Kerr looked at
Christine. There wasn't much of anything
that the colonel wouldn't do, at least in Penhallon's book, to keep her.
So Kerr might be a
murderer. If that were the case, was it
safe for Christine to be with him? Maybe
Farrell was right? Maybe Christine
should know the truth.
But he couldn't imagine Kerr
ever harming her, and Penhallon knew he was an excellent judge of
character.
Farrell, on the other hand,
might not mind hurting Christine as long as she destroyed Kerr in the
process. That was a surprise--he would
have bet a lot of credits on her being a true friend to Christine. So much for his ability to judge people.
Good night, what a conundrum,
he thought wearily.
He walked over to his closet
and pulled out his traveling trunk.
Opening it, he reached down and hit the intricate combination of panels
that would pop the bottom up, revealing a small chamber underneath. Setting the letter inside it and pushing the
false bottom back down, he slid the trunk back in place in his closet. The information was safe for now...at least
until he had more time to think about this.
He knew better than to make a hasty judgment on a decision this important.
Trying to push the whole
thing out of his mind, he quickly freshened up and changed into casual
clothes. He had planned dinner with
Ritsuko and he wasn't going to be much good cheering her up if he was obsessing
over this. With a quick glance toward
the closet, he headed out the door, not happy that he was now the possessor of
such potentially explosive information but determined to put it out of his
mind, at least for the next few hours.
At the last minute he turned back and put an extra lock on his cabin. The information could safely wait, but there
was no reason not to take a few extra precautions...at least until he decided
what to do with it.
FIN