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) 2001 by Djinn. The passage quoted is from The Magus by John Fowles. The lullaby is my own. This story is Rated PG.
In Mine
by Djinn
Everyone was so happy here,
so determined in their quest to have fun, to live, to laugh. The sounds, the lights, were really too
much. And that made
Nothing was the same since
David died. He had been everything to
her. Or nearly so. For most of her life, she had cared for two
things: her son and her work, the two
had been inextricably linked together from the moment he had first sat down
next to her and asked to help. Now they
were both gone. Not that she wasn't still
gainfully employed. It was just that she
had nothing as big, as exciting, as Genesis had been. And she had no partner as brilliant as her
son. But even if there were a hundred
more projects like Genesis, they wouldn't mean anything without David to share
them.
She kept trying to chart the
way she had lost him. To find a place
to lay the blame. And it would be easier
to do if she didn't keep coming back to herself. She'd tried to blame others. Star Fleet, that damn Klingon, Saavik, and
especially Jim. But over the years some
of the veil had fallen off her eyes, and she could see that she was as much if
not more to blame than anyone.
A shriek startled her. Someone had just won a great many
credits. She looked around the
room. How impossibly young these beings
looked. How easy in their
diversions. David had never looked like
that. Even as a child he had been
serious.
-----------------
"David, where are
you?"
A blonde head poked out of
the bushes near her office. "Here,
Mother."
She walked over to him. "What are you doing?"
"Watching the ants. Come see."
She crawled in next to him,
finding the space a bit cramped. He sat
easily, his five-year old body neatly folded over the colony he'd found.
"See, they're all
working on the same thing." He
showed her how the different ants all merged to accomplish their task. He was careful not to hurt any of them as he
pointed with a small twig.
They sat in silence for some
time, watching the small creatures.
Finally, legs cramping from crouching too long, she began to crawl back
out. "Ok, kiddo, time to go."
He followed her, not
complaining as he made his way carefully around the ants. She didn't know what she'd do if he ever
really argued with her. He had always
been a worry-free child. But she knew
that his placid temperament hid a formidable stubborn streak. Fortunately his desire to please her
outweighed his need to have his own way.
So far anyway.
She studied her son as he
trooped beside her. His blonde curls and
wide green-blue eyes gave him the appearance of a cherub. He looked up to smile at her and Carol's
heart turned over. How she loved this
child. She would do anything for him,
anything. The fierce devotion she felt
for him constantly took her by surprise.
"Can we have breakfast
for dinner tonight?"
"We'll have whatever
Gubby makes."
His voice was sweetly
determined. "But I love
breakfast."
"Yes, and you loved it
last night. Gubby will have something
tasty for us." Carol opened the
front door to see her mother in the kitchen.
"See, David, doesn't it smell good?"
"Not as good as
breakfast," he muttered. His voice
was pitched just low enough that his grandmother couldn't hear him.
Barbara Marcus smiled at them
both. "Did you have a good day at
the office, dear?"
It was their little
joke. Carol's office was a small
temporary lab she had set up behind her mother's house in Virginia. It was a good arrangement for them both. Barbara looked out for David, a duty that had
brought her out of the funk she had been in since Carol's stepfather died. Carol remembered Matthew Quint with a
fondness she had never held for her own father.
Captain Joel Marcus had been the quintessential Fleet man, admired by
his peers, worshiped by his crew. And
hated by his daughter.
Carol could feel her palms
start to clench as she thought of her father, how he would stride into the
house after one of his long absences, scooping her mother up in his arms. Don't fall for his lies, she used to think as
she watched Barbara laugh in delight.
She had never understood her
mother's willingness to welcome him, not when the woman had been raising her
daughter all but alone, doing everything herself. Even when he had been on Earth, her father
had still been gone. She remembered her
anger when he had missed her fifteenth birthday party because he was at a
wedding for a young crewman.
"You love them more than
us," she had yelled at him when he had finally come home. "You love that ship more than us."
"Carol," her mother
had chided. "Your father has
duties. He can't always be here."
"But he's never
here. Never. What about his responsibility to us? When do we get to matter? When do we get to come first?"
Her father had just stared at
her. She knew that to him she had been
the eternal mystery. And she had never
known him, never understood what drove him, what made him abandon them for a
way of life she couldn't understand.
When he had died the following year in a shuttle accident, she had not
even cried.
Several years later, when
Matthew Quint had begun to pursue her mother, she had welcomed the scientist
with open arms. He came into Barbara's
life just as Carol was preparing to leave her for university. His presence assuaged any guilt that Carol
had felt at leaving her mother alone.
She knew Matthew loved Barbara.
And he was firmly established on Earth.
He would never abandon her mother for the stars.
Matthew and her mother had
enjoyed over a decade together. His
death had left Barbara far more bereft than Joel's had. The price of depending on someone, of being
able to finally lean on someone, Carol supposed. Matthew's death had come at a time when
Carol's research was demanding more and more of her time. She had known that she was on the edge of a
breakthrough, about to discover something that might someday change the
world. All she had needed was the time
to work on it. But David had required
time from her too. And she had not been
about to deny him that, the way her father had done to her.
When her mother had suggested
that she could look after David when Carol was working, it had seemed like the
perfect solution. With the lab just
outside the house, Carol could take frequent breaks to be with her son. If he had a pageant, a project, or even just
a need to see her, she could be there for him.
And now two years later it
was still the perfect solution. She
watched her mother and her son. Smiled
as she saw the sweet way they had of interacting. David was good for his grandmother. Everything he did seemed to delight the other
woman. Barbara even thought the way he
mangled Grandmother to Gubby was adorable.
"I've made you a nice
dinner," Barbara teased her grandson.
"I bet it's just what you want."
"Bet's it not," he
mumbled a bit sulkily.
Barbara shrugged. "Well, I guess I'll just have to throw your
breakfast out then?"
"Oh, Gubby!" David wrapped his small arms around his
grandmother's legs.
Carol shook her head. "You indulge him too much, Mother."
"And it's just ruining
him," Barbara messed his hair affectionately. "Such a rotten child."
David beamed at her, his
smile one of pure satisfaction. "I
love you, Gubby," he said as he hugged her more tightly.
Barbara's eyes met her
daughter's as she replied, "And I love you, Angel. "
---------------------------
Carol jumped as the clanging
of a slot machine startled her back to the present.
All gone now. David, her mother, even Jim just this
year. The news reports had said he died
a hero. She wished she could have cried
for him, or hated him still. But she
felt nothing. Any particle of feeling
that wasn't used to mourn her son was gone.
Sighing, she rose and went
back to her room. It was quiet and dark
and it sheltered her as the tears she had kept in, fell again at this, the
appointed time. Always the same. She picked a place that was close. No more than one day of travel out and the
same back. That left her one day to cry,
to mourn, to be human, and one day to recover before going back to her work, to
her empty little apartment, to resume what passed as a life. It had been like this for nearly a decade
now.
This time, she had thought
the head of the laboratory was going to try to cancel her time off. He had hemmed and hawed about "poor
timing" and "making sacrifices."
She had stared at him coldly until his resolve had shattered. She had not had to threaten him with her
resignation, although she had been prepared to.
He was afraid of her already.
Everyone seemed afraid of her these days.
Echoes of laughter played
across her memories. David's as a child,
then older. But another's voice
too. Jim's. James T. Kirk. The father of her child. Her lover at one time. And she had loved him. They had been an incongruous pair from the
start. Poorly matched, she used to laugh
to her mother, as she prepared for what she always assumed would be their last
date. But they had a chemistry that
burned hot and furious for longer than anyone expected. She could still see Jim as he had been when
she first met him. Cocky, just hitting
his prime. She had fallen for him hard
to the amazement of her family and friends.
Jim and she had been polar opposites in so many ways. He was the cowboy with his head in the stars. Odd company for someone who so resented
Starfleet for taking her father away.
She had always said she wanted someone who had his feet firmly on the
ground. But Jim had been the perfect
counterpoint to her serious and often dark outlook. His enthusiasm for life and love had
freshened her own spirits. His sunniness
had been infectious and his arms the warmest place she had ever rested. He had accepted her as an equal from the
start, pushing her to succeed as firmly as he did himself. For one year they had been happy together,
for another they had tried to make it work.
She hardly remembered what started
their problems. They had both been under
enormous stress working on assignments that mattered more than anything...even
each other ultimately. There had been no
clear escalation, no increase in arguments leading up to the end, no precise
time she could look back on and say "that was the moment it all started to
go bad." It just happened. Somewhere along the course of their
relationship, she could no longer deny that she detested the ship she felt she
was sharing him with. All the old
feelings that she had experienced with her father began to surface again. She had known it was unfair of her; Jim had
been in Starfleet when she had met him.
She had known what to expect. But
that didn't stop her from suggesting he take a planet-side assignment. He had looked at her incredulously. As she had known he would. She wanted to work it out, but the hurt child
inside her remembered only the pain that she had gone through every time her
father left. Carol began to spend more
and more time in the laboratory. Run,
hide, protect yourself, the little girl had whispered. And she had done it. It had been the simple solution.
Jim had not let go
easily. He had truly loved her. Had wanted to fight for her, in a way that he
had not felt able to fight for Janice Lester when their relationship had ended
so nastily just a few years before. But
he hadn't been able to do what Carol wanted.
Could never make the decision to abandon the stars, and the career that
was shooting him quickly into the upper echelons of the line. Yes, he had loved her but he couldn't choose
her. And he wouldn't play second fiddle
to a laboratory when she began to abandon him for her work. He followed her example, and began to stay
away even more.
It was a vicious cycle that
neither had seemed inclined to stop.
They had started to let go of each other, and, with no one holding on,
love had slipped away as easily as it had appeared.
It had been harder than she
expected, being alone again. She had
missed him terribly. But she had her
work. And then she had David, this baby
that had managed to find his way into the miniscule percentages of
contraceptive failures. She had intended
to keep him a secret from his father, hide the pregnancy and the child until
enough time had passed that she could say he was another's son. It would have worked, if Jim had not been in
town while his ship was in for emergency refits. If she had known that he was on Earth, she would
have taken more care to stay clear of the places he was likely to show up. But she had not known. It wasn't that she hated him. Far from it.
But this child was not community property. She wasn't going to share him the way she'd
had to share Jim, and her father, with Star Fleet. This baby was all hers and she would guard him. Jealously.
---------------------
"Carol?"
The sound of his voice
stopped her cold. She didn't turn
around, afraid to show him a swelling abdomen he may not have noticed. She put all the coldness she could muster
into her voice. "I can't stop, Jim. I'm late."
"Yeah. By quite a few months from the look of
it." The hurt wonder in his voice
took the sting out of his comment.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She didn't stop to
think. Her first impulse was to
lie. "It isn't yours."
"Bull, Carol. I can count back as well as you. And you're a bad liar."
She finally turned to him and
let him see her fully. "So, you're
the father. So what?"
He winced at the ice in her
tone. "So what? For God's sake, Carol. That's my child you're carrying. Did you think I wouldn't care about
that?"
She softened her tone. "Of course I didn't think that, but what
was I supposed to do?"
"Call me," he
suggested quietly. "Tell me."
"Why?"
"Because I'm the
father."
She could hear his
frustration, felt her own rise.
"And?"
He pulled her to a bench at
the end of the corridor. It gave them
more privacy as he took her hands in his, his eyes solemn. "And that means a lot. Do you think I've forgotten what you've told
me about your father? How he was never
there for you? This can be
different."
"How? Are you going to give up the Lydia Sutherland
for me?"
His expression hardened. "It doesn't have to be that drastic,
Carol."
"Yes, Jim, it does. We both know what it is like to have an
absent father. I haven't forgotten that
conversation either."
She remembered when he had
first told her of his childhood. The
hurt had been clear when he recalled for her the man that had drifted in and
out of his life, that had left his eldest son and namesake in charge of caring
for his wife and his younger son. George
Kirk had abandoned them, first in a failed career in Starfleet, then later as
he had chased one crazy scheme after another.
He hadn't been a cruel man, just a directionless one. But Jim had grown to hate him. Had even refused to call his brother Georgie
anymore, started calling him Sam. Soon
everyone did, much to his father's anger.
Jim hadn't cared.
"Carol, we can do better
than they did. Because we know how not
to do it." He looked again at her abdomen,
his expression softening. "What do
you want me to do?"
And in that simple question,
she realized that he was actually offering up everything he had, every
possibility. For their child. But not for her, not for them. It wasn't right to ask that of him, or of
herself. Her resolve was clear, as she
said evenly, "Nothing. Do
nothing."
"You can't be
serious!"
Anger erupted. Her voice was sharp. "Fine.
You want something to do? Do
this. Stay away."
His face fell.
A part of her knew what a bad
decision she was making, but another stronger Carol hushed the voice. "Just stay away from us."
She turned and walked away
hurriedly. But not fast enough to escape
hearing his whispered, "Stay away?"
-----------------------------------------
He had done it. Stayed away from them. Left them alone. But not at first. He had believed he could talk her out of
this, win her over. His campaign had
started the next day when he had showed up at her door, wanting to talk about it. He had been sure they could work it out. He wasn't her father, or his own, he had
tried to argue.
It hadn't mattered to
her. She had made her mind up long
ago. When she was fifteen and she had
insisted that her cake not be lit until her father arrived. She had grown angrier and more resentful as
she sat for hours. She had decided then
and there that she would never, ever, go through what her mother had. So, in the end it hadn't mattered what Jim
did, or said. It didn't matter that she
had loved him, or that he had loved her.
He had pressed her. Tried every argument. Held her.
Yelled at her. Nothing had swayed
her. Eventually his ship was ready to
go. He had showed up one more time at
her door. Had said one word. "Reconsider."
"Resign," she had
countered.
The chasm between them had
been too wide to cross. And neither of
them had been good at building bridges.
"All or nothing,
Carol? Is that really how you want
it?"
"It really is."
It had not occurred to her to
wonder what the cost would be to him.
She frankly had not expected him to dwell on it once he accepted the
situation, once he moved on. And he did
move on. First to Janet Wallace. A person so like herself she almost laughed
when she heard it. Would have laughed,
if her heart hadn't been breaking at the thought of him with someone else. He and Janet lasted a year. She had been happy when she heard they had
broken it off. He had moved on to Areel
Shaw, another icy blonde, or at least on the surface. But this woman, for all her fine breeding and
education, had been able to put something back into Jim that the three women
before her had drained away. A love of
life, an enthusiasm for the future. From
what Carol had understood, Areel had never tried to hold him, and that
relationship had ended without acrimony.
And once he had been offered
the Enterprise, he really had been lost to her, to any woman. And so she had raised David on her own. Had moved on with her own life and assumed Jim
had moved on with his. It had been
easier to think that he never thought of them, never asked himself what might
have been. And she had been able to
believe it till that day in the Genesis Cave, when she had seen the wonder in
Jim's eyes the first time he met David as an adult. She had had no idea how much it would hurt to
see his initial pride in the son she had raised. Even his censure had been mild, so filled
with longing that she had felt regret rush over her.
But if she had it to do over
again, she wouldn't change a thing. She
had not lied about wanting her son in her world, not in Star Fleet with his
father. She would have done anything to
keep him, had done much to poison David's mind against Star Fleet and those who
sailed the stars for her. Jim Kirk, as
Captain of the Fleet's flagship, had been a natural target. In time, David's hatred and mistrust had
grown with hardly any work on her part.
But at first, it had been a delicate operation planting that initial
seed.
-----------------------
"Mother, look what Gubby
got me."
She turned to see David in a
miniature Star Fleet uniform. Her
reaction was visceral. "Take that
off!"
David looked at her startled.
"Now!" She had never taken that tone with him, but
he looked so much like his father that her fear made her harsh.
His eyes shone with unshed
tears as he backed away from her, then ran into his room.
Barbara passed him as he
rushed by. She met her daughter's angry
eyes calmly. "It's just a play
uniform."
Carol shook her head violently. "It'll never be just a toy, Mother. Not with Jim Kirk's blood in his veins. Or my father's. Never just a game."
"You can't tie him to
you forever, Carol. Someday the boy will
have to make his own way."
"And that way might be
in Star Fleet?"
"Might be, yes."
"No. Never."
Carol rose.
"Where are you
going?"
She looked grimly at her
mother. "To make up with my
son."
"Carol," Barbara
started warningly.
"He's my son,"
Carol interrupted her before she could finish.
"There will be no Star Fleet for him. Do you understand?"
Her mother stared at her as
if she were crazy. She had never shared
Carol's resentment of the Fleet. Had
never truly understood the anger her daughter still held toward Joel Marcus. "Your father was just doing his job. Kirk too.
You have to let this hatred go."
"Do. You.
Understand?" Carol put all
the menace she was capable of into the question.
A moment later, Barbara
nodded slowly. Her expression was
shuttered, but Carol could sense her disapproval. So be it, she thought as she made her way to
David's room.
The uniform was in a crumpled
heap on the floor. David, dressed in
pajamas, lay on the bed sobbing, his six-year old heart broken.
"David, sweetheart,
don't cry."
His sobs just got louder.
She gathered him into her
arms. "Shhh." She rocked him until he quieted.
"Is it bad?" His little voice was earnest. "The uniform. Is it bad?"
Guilt overcame her, even as
she didn't hesitate to answer, "Yes, darling, it's very bad."
"But all the other kids
have them. That's why Gubby got it for
me."
"Maybe the other
children don't know the truth. But you
are too smart not to know. I'm going to
tell you some stories about Star Fleet, David.
When I'm done, you can decide if you want to wear the uniform, ok?"
He nodded solemnly.
Again she felt a rush of
guilt. She had never planned this, but
she had to keep him with her. She was
ruthless as she continued. The stories
she made up were full of an evil military pretending to be good but actually
hurting innocent people, robbing worlds of their wealth, killing their animals
if it would further the cause.
"Even cats like
Neutrino, and dogs like Gubby's friend Mary has, and like the ants?" He was outraged.
"Even them."
His face resolved, he crawled
out of her arms and picked up the costume.
"I don't want it anymore," he said as he carried it to the
recycler.
-------------------------------
It had been a simple matter
to keep his hatred active till it became second nature to him. As he got older, she had made sure he just
happened to find the site of an anti-Star Fleet group. The reports he read were derogatory about
anything Star Fleet and paid special attention to the important
individuals. Jim's name figured prominently.
One day she had come in while
he was reading a report protesting an action taken by Jim on a recent
mission. She had looked over his
shoulder as she leaned in to kiss his cheek.
"Jim Kirk? I knew him," she had remarked casually.
The comment had led to a
spate of questions, as she had known it would.
It was common knowledge that she had spent time with Jim Kirk. Two years of her life. It would have been stupid to think that David
wouldn't hear about their relationship somewhere. She had wanted the first time to be from
her. She told him that she had loved Jim
deeply, but that he had felt a greater duty to Star Fleet than to her. Her sadness had not been an act for she
couldn't help but feel guilty even as she had watched her poison take hold
within her son. Soon Jim Kirk had come
to signify everything David hated about Star Fleet.
It had been a fine line that
she had walked. Much of her own research
had been funded by Star Fleet and she had known that David would someday find
that out. She had been candid with him
about her need for grants. Had impressed
on him her resolve to go ahead with her work but her equal intention to keep it
out of the hands of the military. She
had managed to paint herself the hero, or perhaps the victim. It wasn't her fault she needed Star
Fleet. In a perfect world, brilliant
scientists such as she wouldn't need to find sponsorship for the important work
they would do, should never have to get in bed with the villains of Star
Fleet. David had believed this. She remembered a conversation they had after
the Reliant went to check the latest planet for suitability for Stage 3 of the
Genesis Project. She had been worried.
David had teased her. "Well don't have kittens. Genesis is going to work. They'll remember you in one breath with
Newton, Einstein, Surak."
She had laughed. "Thanks a lot. No respect from my offspring."
It was an old argument. "Par for the course." He had turned serious, "Teaming up with
me for bridge after dinner?"
"Maybe," she had
teased. She always teamed up with him;
he hadn't even needed to ask. But the
look on his face had startled her, "What is it?"
"Every time we have
dealings with Star Fleet I get nervous.
We are dealing with something that could be perverted into a dreadful
weapon. Remember that overgrown boy
scout you used to hang around with?
That's exactly the kind of man I'm..."
She had interrupted him,
amused despite his concern.
"Listen, kiddo. Jim Kirk was
many things but he was never a boy scout."
And she remembered what
happened later, when all the paranoia she had planted in David had come out in
a loud argument. The staff had been
discussing the sudden change of orders that Chekov had relayed. None of them could accept that Star Fleet
expected them to just turn over Genesis.
David had been angry. "We're all alone here. They waited till everyone was on leave to do
this. Reliant is supposed to be at our
disposal, not vice versa." He had
listened to the others for a moment then continued, "I've tried to tell
you before. Scientists have always been
pawns of the military."
She had been forced to defend
Star Fleet, had not thought anything of doing it even when she had seen the
look of betrayal on his face. "Star Fleet has kept the peace for 100
years. I cannot and will not subscribe
to your interpretation of this event."
Everything had been all right
between them afterwards. Even throughout
the terror of trying to flee the Reliant, beaming what they needed to hide most
down to the Genesis Cave, waiting for those who would come after them. It had been awful but somehow it was all
right because it had still been she and David against the world. But all that had changed when David met his
father.
-----------------------------------------
The pursuers were finally
there. The sound of their voices rang
through the cave as they examined the Genesis Device. Carol edged a bit more into the shadows, but
her movement brushed a loose piece of metal.
The sound was loud. She could
hear the voices turn to her position.
Then it was all
confusion. She heard David and stepped
out to see her son trying to stab one of the strangers. She couldn't see the other man's face, but
David could, was staring at him in fact.
"You!" he said
accusingly.
"Where's Dr.
Marcus?"
She recognized the familiar
voice. Couldn't believe it.
David's reply was full of
rage. "I'm Dr. Marcus."
She walked forward, oblivious
to the others that stood around.
"Jim."
He walked away from their
son, stood in front of her. "Is
that David?"
Even as she tried to explain
she was drinking in the sight of his face.
So many years and he was still so handsome. So many years and he was still in command. "He..."
David interrupted her. "Mother, he killed everybody we left
behind."
She turned to her son. "Oh of course he didn't." Her eyes were drawn back to Jim, the joy she
felt at seeing him shook her. "David,
you're just making this harder."
At that moment she would have
told her son everything. Would have told
him the truth. But Terrell bought her time.
His betrayal obviously surprised Jim.
She stood confused but aghast as the other officer fought someone's
control, finally shooting himself instead of killing Jim. Then Chekov fell to the floor, a hideous
creature oozing from his ear. She
thought it was over when Jim taunted the opponent, this Khan. But it wasn't. Genesis was stolen from her. She watched her former lover try to goad Khan
into coming down and making it a real fight, but it was no use. Khan was gone, taking Genesis with him. And they were stuck on the planet. Forever probably.
She was surprisingly sanguine
about that possibility. A lightness
began in her body as she thought of the Genesis cave and all it had to offer
them. She watched as the young Vulcan
officer tried to raise the Enterprise but failed. "They're still jamming all
channels." Saavik's voice sounded
surprisingly dejected. Perhaps she was
not fully Vulcan, Carol mused.
McCoy spoke from Chekov's
side, "If Enterprise followed orders, she's long since gone. If she couldn't obey she's finished."
David's voice was bitter,
"So are we it looks like."
She ignored him, turned
instead to Jim. "I don't
understand. Who's responsible for all
this? Who is Khan?"
"Well, that's a long
story."
"We appear to have
plenty of time," David replied dryly.
Jim's tone was light as he
changed the subject. "Is there
anything to eat? I don't know about
anyone else, but I'm starved."
McCoy sounded disgusted. "How can you think of food at a time
like this?"
"First order of
business. Survival."
Carol realized he was trying
to get some time alone with her. She
owed him that. He would want
answers. "There is food in the
Genesis Cave. Enough to last a lifetime. If necessary." Again she felt a little trill of happiness at
that thought. She refused to analyze it
beyond attributing it to shock.
McCoy sounded surprised. "We thought this was Genesis."
"This?" Carol tried and failed to keep the amused
scorn out of her voice. "It took
Star Fleet corps of engineers ten months in space suits to tunnel out all
this. What we did in there, we did in a
day." She saw Jim turn to study
David, saw her son notice and stare at his father defiantly. "David, why don't you show Dr. McCoy and
the Lieutenant our idea of food?"
David protested, "We
can't just sit here."
She was surprised to see Jim
slip on some eyeglasses, then look at his chrono.
"Oh yes we can," he
offered unconcernedly.
David was irritated. "This is just to give us something to
do, isn't it?" In frustration he
turned to McCoy and Saavik, "Come on."
McCoy left a dozing Chekov to
follow him, but Saavik hung back.
"Admiral?"
Jim's tone was gentle. "As your teacher Mr. Spock is fond of
saying, I like to think that there are always possibilities."
Saavik nodded and followed
the others into the cave.
Jim looked over at Carol.
She felt several emotions at
once, shame, love, desire, anger. She
looked down unwilling to meet his eyes.
His voice was broken. "I did what you wanted. I stayed away. Why didn't you tell him?"
She looked up, content that
anger had found its way to the forefront of the emotional storm she was
feeling. "How can you ask me
that? Were we together? Were we going to be? You had your world, and I had mine. And I wanted him in mine. Not chasing through the universe with his
father."
She saw her words strike
home. Guilt began to fill her. She rose and grabbed her jacket. "Actually he's a lot like you in many
ways." She walked past him, thought
he would follow her but he sat like a stone.
She felt her heart break as she watched him. He looked so lost. "Please tell me what you're
feeling?"
"There's a man out there
who I haven't seen in fifteen years who's trying to kill me. You show me a son who'd be happy to help
him. My son. My life that could have been and wasn't. What am I feeling? Old.
Worn out."
Her voice was soft; she
wanted only to be gentle with him.
"Let me show you something that'll make you feel young as when the
world was new."
He glanced at her, then
turned to look down the hall where the others had gone. But he made no move to rise.
She stepped closer and held
out her hand to him, watched as he took it, let her lead him down the
hall. As they got closer to the cave,
and the smells and sounds began to reach them, he quickened his pace, began to
pull her down the corridor. He stopped
just behind where David lounged on the wide railing near the few steps that
would take them to the viewing ledge.
"You did all this in a
day," he asked in wonder.
"The matrix formed in a
day. The life forms grew later at a
substantially accelerated rate."
McCoy looked up at them. "Jim, this is incredible! Have you ever seen the like?"
She leaned in to look over
his shoulder. "Can I cook or can't
I?"
Some time later they sat
scattered over the ledge. It was quiet
except for an occasional crunch as Jim ate an apple-like fruit. He seemed in no hurry to find a way out. That surprised her. Somehow she didn't think that he was
contemplating the possibilities of an enforced exile in quite the same way that
she was. No, he looked much as he had
the time he had planned the surprise birthday party for her. The same look of quietly satisfied
anticipation. She looked down to hide
her sudden grin. He had something up his
sleeve. She was surprised to find no
disappointment at the idea that rescue was just around the corner. She almost laughed out loud. Her heart was ever the contradiction, even to
her.
Saavik spoke softly. "Sir, may I ask you a question?"
"What's on your mind,
Lieutenant?"
"The Kobayashi Maru,
Sir."
"Are you asking me if
we're playing out that scenario now?"
Saavik's voice was
solemn. "On the test, Sir, will you
tell me what you did? I would really
like to know."
McCoy chuckled. "Lieutenant, you are looking at the only
Star Fleet cadet who ever beat the no-win scenario."
"How?"
Jim's reply was
nonchalant. "I reprogrammed the
simulation so it was possible to rescue the ship."
Saavik's whispered
"What?" held horror.
David laughed
scornfully. "He cheated."
The reply was curt. "Changed the conditions of the
test. Got a commendation for original
thinking. I don't like to lose."
Saavik was thoughtful. "Then you never faced that
situation. Faced death."
"I don't believe in the
no-win scenario." He pulled his
communicator out.
So now it begins, Carol
thought. Now he pulls out the ace he's
been hiding all this time. She looked at
the doctor. His unconcerned air was that
of a man who had faith in Jim Kirk. In
fact, it looked like he was getting ready to rise.
"Kirk to Spock. It's two hours, are you ready?"
To Saavik and David's
surprise, the communicator chimed into action.
"Right on schedule, Admiral.
Just give us your coordinates and we'll beam you aboard."
Carol did not think she had
ever heard him sound more satisfied then when he replied, "All
right." He looked at David,
challenge in his eyes. "I don't
like to lose."
They walked down to where
Chekov lay. McCoy helped him up,
supported him as the transporters took them.
She could hear Saavik arguing with Jim even as they beamed up. As the Star Fleet officers changed their
jackets for uniforms, Jim said, "Spock, you know Dr. Marcus?"
His reply was pleasant. "Why of course."
"Hello, Mr.
Spock."
McCoy herded them off the
transporter. "I'm taking this bunch
to sickbay."
Carol felt David reach for
her arm as they followed the doctor. She
looked up at him and saw his answering smile.
His gaze was so warm, just for her.
That would have to end. It was
time for the truth. She sensed that
McCoy knew who David's father was. Now
it was time that David knew. But she had
never wanted to do anything less in her entire life.
"What is it?" His voice was so full of affection she nearly
choked.
"Nothing. Just glad to be rescued."
"You didn't look very
worried down there." He studied
her. "Why weren't you afraid?"
Truth, she reminded
herself. "I could never be afraid
when Jim is around. He always takes care
of things, David."
"Sure he does. By cheating."
The sickbay door opened as
she tried to think of the best way to tell him.
She watched McCoy fuss over Chekov then followed the doctor into his
office. David stood just inside the
door. She smiled at McCoy, but she could
feel her lips shaking as she did so.
His eyes narrowed for a
moment, then he rose slowly and walked around his desk. "I have few tests to run on Chekov. Feel free to use my office. It's very private."
She nodded gratefully and
watched the door close behind him. She
could see him through the walls but the sound from outside was muted
completely.
She began to pace the small
room. She could sense David's eyes upon
her but didn't want to face him. Not
yet.
"Mother?"
Suddenly she turned to
him. The speed of her move, and the
desperation in her voice took her by surprise.
"Have I been a good mother, David?"
"No, you've been
terrible." His teasing tone faded
as he watched her face. "What kind
of question is that? Of course you've
been a good mother. You've been the best
mother."
"And we've been happy,
haven't we?" She could still see
the little boy playing outside her office when she looked at him.
"Very happy." He took her in his arms, hugged her. "We're going to make it. As much as I hate to say it, Kirk probably
will get us out of this."
"Oh he will. Never doubt that."
"Then why are you
shaking?"
"Because I don't want to
lose you." Her voice was ragged.
"Lose me? Lose me how." His arms tightened around her.
When did he get so tall, so
strong? Where did the little boy that
she used to envelope in her arms go?
"Lose you when you find out the truth."
"Truth?" His voice was confused. "Mother, you're making yourself and me
crazy with this kind of talk. Just tell
me what's bothering you."
"You met your father
today." There, she'd said it. Not as direct as she should have. But it was out there. It would lead to the truth.
His arms were not so tight
around her. "What did you just
say?"
"Your father. You met him.
You looked at him." She
laughed bitterly. "You even tried
to kill him."
He let her go
completely. His eyes were steel as he
stared at her.
"It's true, kiddo. Jim Kirk is your father."
"But you told
me..."
"I told you lots of
things. Most of them lies, David. This isn't a lie. For perhaps the first time in your life, I'm
telling you the truth. That man, that
good man, is your father."
He didn't move. He just stared at her. Then he looked down. Processing.
Probably trying to deny. And
looking just as his father had in the cave when he had said he was feeling
old. They were so very alike.
She found herself asking David
the same thing she had asked Jim, "Please, tell me what you're
feeling?"
He turned on her. "What I'm feeling? You want to know what I'm feeling?"
She cringed away a bit.
He saw it and his anger
seemed to fade. "You lied to
me. You've been lying to me for my whole
life and you ask me how I'm feeling? How
do you feel, Mother? How the hell do you
feel?"
She couldn't stop a tear from
slipping down her cheek.
"Ashamed. Sorry. Afraid, very, very afraid."
"Just tell me why? Did he not want me? Is that it?"
It would have been so easy to
lie to him again. And she sensed that he
almost wanted her to do it, to put it all back the way it had been, without
this new person in the mix. "No. He wanted you."
His face fell but he walked
to her, brushed her tear away.
"Then why?"
"He had his own world,
David. The one here, in the stars. It didn't include me. Never included me. I wanted you in mine."
"But later, when I was
old enough to understand that. Why
didn't you tell me then?"
She shook her head
helplessly. "I was afraid you'd
want to be with the stars too. I'd lose
you to his world. And I just couldn't
stand that."
"I worked with you, I
would never have left you." His
voice was hurt.
"You might never have
chosen to work with me if you had known the truth, David."
He stepped away from
her. "I guess we'll never know,
will we?" His tone was neutral.
"What are you feeling,
David?"
"Like I need some
air." He walked out of the
room.
McCoy came in a second
later. "Can I get you
anything?"
She laughed bitterly. "A time machine?"
"To do it
differently?"
She thought about it. "No.
To lie a few minutes ago when I had the chance to keep my son."
He shook his head. "You did the right thing, Doctor. You know it.
And David will know it too, maybe not right away but he will."
"Anybody ever commend
you on your bedside manner, Doctor."
He just laughed. The ship suddenly rocked. He looked up.
"They're firing."
David rushed in, his old
habit to look after her overruling his anger.
She smiled at him, but he
just stared at her.
He grabbed his sweater and
wrapped it around his shoulders.
"I'm going up there."
"That's not a good
idea."
His look stopped her from
saying more. "Perhaps not. But I have a sudden need to be with my
father. I'm sure you can understand
that?"
She nodded helplessly and
watched him walk away from her. I've
lost him, she thought mournfully. I've
really lost him.
She sat with McCoy through
the bulk of the battle. Then he left to go
to Engineering and she was alone. He had
a channel turned to monitor the bridge.
She could hear Jim's voice. So
calm. So reassuring. Then she heard David's telling his father the
Genesis Device had been started. She
felt real panic. She ran to be with her
son. But she ran the wrong way, wasted
precious minutes finding the lift, getting to the bridge. On the way there she felt the ship kick into
warp, then the lift opened onto an amazing sight.
Jim's voice was awed. "My god, Carol, look at it."
She looked at David. He was standing to the side, a look of quiet
pride on his face. She wanted to go to
him, but stood frozen in uncertainty. He
reached out his hand to her and she walked to him slowly, their hands
intertwining without thought as he pulled her close. And they stood there in wonder, not
understanding the terrible note in McCoy's voice when he told Jim to get down
to engineering. Not realizing that Jim
Kirk was losing his greatest friend. Not
knowing until it was too late.
The funeral was awful. It hurt so much to watch Jim struggle through
the ceremony. She wanted to hold him so
much as he fought the tears that threatened.
David didn't understand, he didn't know his father enough yet to hurt
with him. But she understood. And she ached for this man that she had
walked away from.
She knew when David went to
him. She knew enough of her son to
realize what he would say. That this was
the end of her exclusive hold on him.
But he had forgiven her with the same open heart he had always had as a
child. He still loved her. And for that she was grateful. She would share him with a thousand Kirks if
it meant she never had to feel that dreadful loneliness she had experienced in
sickbay when she realized her world might no longer contain the light that was
David. She had learned her lesson.
-----------------------------------------
Carol shifted in the overly
soft bed in the Vegas resort. Looking
back, it was ironic enough to make her laugh.
She had returned from the Genesis disaster prepared to try to include
Jim in her own life. To perhaps forge
something from the ashes of what she had burned. She had known she still had feelings for him
the minute she had seen him in the Genesis Cave, had felt those feelings grow
during the long voyage back to Earth.
And she had sensed that he had felt the same. She knew that it had not been her
imagination. There had still been
something between them. She had even
indulged in daydreams of them being a family.
But those fantasies had ended
when she had been denied access to Genesis.
Only one man could do that to her, had a reason to do that to her. Jim Kirk.
He had not been so forgiving as his son after all. In keeping her from both the work she loved
and the son she adored he had found the perfect vengeance and had left her with
nothing.
For the first time in years,
she and David had not been working together.
She had thought she would be joining David on the Grissom, had made
plans to join him until she had found herself barred from the project. She had called her son frantically. He had been angered and said he would work to
get her back. But that had not happened.
The only consolation she had
known was that his father wasn't with him either. David had been on the Grissom while Jim had
returned a crippled Enterprise to spacedock.
And she had been on the ship too, having agreed to come back for the
debriefs. David had convinced her that
she, as senior member of the team, was better prepared to deal with Star Fleet
than he. She had wanted to please him,
to have his approval, so she had agreed.
And then had found herself with no way to get back to him.
Genesis had eluded her from
that moment on. She had blamed Jim for
years. Thought he had asked the brass to
pull her access. But it had not been
him. He had never been a vindictive
man. And she had seen how he understood
her passion for her work. She should
have known better than to blame him. Had
she been logical she would have asked herself who had the most to gain by
getting her off the project. Or the most
to lose if she remained. Had she
followed that avenue of exploration to its logical conclusion, she would have
realized it could yield only one answer.
The last person she would ever have suspected. David. Her son.
Her colleague. Her partner. David had kicked her off the project. In hindsight, it was all so clear, but at the
time it had never occurred to her that he was involved, much less responsible
for her banishment. If it hadn't been
for Saavik's visit just a few years ago, she might never have known the truth.
---------------------
"Excuse me, Doctor
Marcus?"
Carol looked up from the pad
she was working on. It took her a minute
to recognize the young woman that stood before her.
"Lt. Saavik?"
"It's just Saavik
now. I left Star Fleet."
Carol was genuinely
surprised. "Why? You seemed like a perfect fit."
"I believe that I would
have been successful had I stayed. But
it would have been for the wrong reasons."
Saavik saw the puzzlement in Carol's eyes. "I would have been doing it to please
someone else. Life is too short not to
find something that brings you full satisfaction. David's death taught me that."
Carol flinched at the mention
of her son. Her coworkers knew not to
bring him up and her friends...well she didn't really have any of those
anymore. She had left them all behind,
first to work on Genesis, then to find some other life without it or her son.
"I have caused you
pain."
"I don't talk about
David."
Saavik seemed to consider
this. Finally she spoke, her voice
regretful. "Then perhaps you will
not wish to hear what I have to say about him."
Carol wanted to agree with
her. She did not want to discuss her son
with this woman, with anyone. But there
was something in Saavik's eyes that told her she should listen. "Did you seek me out, Saavik, or is this
a chance encounter?"
"I looked for you. I am leaving Earth soon. Going to see if I can find my own way on a
planet that I've been told is a good place for new beginnings. I may not be back for a very long
while."
"And so you want to get
something off your chest? Something
about David?"
"You know that he gave
his life for me and for Captain Spock?"
Carol nodded. Jim had told her this when he came to her
after his exile on Vulcan. He had tried
to hold her, to comfort her, but she had pushed him away. She had known he was in pain over David's
death but she hadn't cared. She'd
ordered him out. She was good at that.
Saavik continued, "David
died bravely. With honor. It is an important fact."
"To you perhaps, but to
me all that is important is that my son is dead. How it happened doesn't make him any less
gone." Carol knew her voice was
beyond bitter.
"Of course. But it is important for another
reason." Saavik paused for a long
time, as if considering carefully what she was about to say. "Do you know what happened to the
Genesis Planet?"
"No," Carol said
simply. Jim had not told her this. She had asked him when he had first called
her from Vulcan, but he had pulled the 'you're not authorized for that
information' card. How it had infuriated
her. Now this young woman was going to
tell her what the father of her child would not?
"It was unstable. It tore itself apart."
Carol took that in. All the implications of that. "And David?"
"His body was on the
planet when it blew up."
That was as Jim had
said. Or nearly. He had said that David's body had not been
recoverable because of the explosion.
She had assumed he meant the one on the Enterprise. Although the details of the mission were
closed to her, even Star Fleet Intelligence couldn't hide the fact that their
flagship seemed to be missing.
Carol thought back to the few
facts she knew. Spock was alive, due,
she'd always assumed, to his torpedo coffin landing on a still forming Genesis
Planet. She had thought that if he
prospered the planet must have also been doing well. She had supposed it to be covered with eager
settlers. To hear that it was destroyed
was staggering. Damn Jim for kicking her
off the project. "Unstable,"
she repeated as she tried to wrap her mind around the concept. "How?
Why?"
Saavik again gave her a
considering look before answering.
"David used protomatter."
"Impossible. I'd know."
"He kept it from
you. He knew you would not have
approved."
"No," Carol moaned,
disbelief fading while what little remained of her world crumbled around her.
Saavik let her process the
information before continuing quietly.
"You were going to lose the grants.
You needed results. Protomatter
worked when nothing else did. In small
areas, like the Genesis Cave, it was stable.
On a whole planet though...a disaster."
"Are you defending his
actions?"
"No. What he did was wrong. But why he did it may have been less
so."
"H