Chosen Brother
(Part One)
Gary....
Jim Kirk tossed and turned as the recurring nightmare once again held him in its pitiless grasp.
Gary...
Silver eyes flashed with raw, vicious, merciless absolute power.
Gary...
Hate stared out from the changed eyes of his oldest friend. The power to dominate given full rein, forcing him to his knees.
Gary...
Thinking himself a god and, showing no pity, he demanded submission. His deepest desires were now uppermost in his mind as he ordered, "Pray to me, James."
Gary...
Weakened temporarily by Dr Dehner. Elizabeth was also changed but she had retained her human compassion and respect for life. She had not been corrupted by the immense powers at her disposal.
Kirk sat bolt upright on the bed, sweat pouring from him. It ran down his face, streamed down his chest and back. He shivered and, drawing up his knees up, bent his face down to rest against them. Clasping his arms about his legs, he tried to stop his violent trembling. It had been almost a week since the events on Delta Vega; since he had buried Gary alive. Every night since, the same nightmare had replayed itself over and over and over. He had lost three people on that planet. The happy-go-lucky Lee Kelso who had been a friend for years. Elizabeth Dehner - ship's psychiatrist- whom he had hardly known but who had saved his life at the expense of her own. Gary Mitchell who had turned on him and vented years of hidden bitterness and resentment on the friend he had once loved.
On unsteady legs, Kirk headed for his bathroom where he immersed himself in the comfort of a sonic shower. He tried to shut out his pain but it always resurfaced not matter what he did. It was too fresh, too recent, too intense. He returned to his bed and lay down. There were several more hours before he had to face the day but he dared not sleep again for fear the nightmare would return. Instead, he tried the relaxation exercises taught to him by Spock. After a time he knew that the peace of meditation once more had eluded him and he considered asking Spock for assistance. It didn't take him long to decide against it; he must learn to help himself.
He wished there was something he could do to ease the bitter knot of grief inside him. If only he could find relief in tears he knew the pressure would lighten, but he had not cried since he was a sixteen year old boy. He suppressed that memory; he would not think about Gary right now. If he did so he would crack. He couldn't afford that; he had a ship to run. Instead he thought of his reunion with Bones. They would soon pick the doctor up at the Aldebaran colony where he had been working on a special assignment, whilst the Enterprise had headed for her mission to the galactic barrier. Maybe, McCoy would be able to help him through this difficult time.
In an attempt to spare Spock any more distress, Kirk had been careful to keep his problems to himself. Such extreme emotion would play havoc with Spock's telepathic senses and Kirk wanted to spare him that. He had seen - only too graphically - during one unguarded moment when in a spasm of grief he had grasped the Vulcan's arm. The horror and pain in Spock's dark eyes had been terrible to see and the Vulcan had recoiled from him. Startled, Kirk had drawn back, forced his pain under control and resolved never to inflict anything like this again on Spock. He could not allow that kind of torture on a being who had such powerful empathic links to him. He would work through this on his own.
Kirk's eyes closed and he drifted into sleep again.
Gary...
Silver eyes returned to a normal brown. "Jim," Gary whispered, his tone confused, pleading for help.
Gary...
Hurling a boulder at him as if it weighed nothing. Crazed with a power Kirk was unable to match, determined to make him suffer, determined to humiliate him. Once as close to him as a brother. Who now hated him with violent fury.
The soft whistle of the intercom woke him out of the nightmare. He moaned with relief and took a few moments to find his voice. "Kirk here."
"Transporter Room, sir," Chief Kyle's voice said. "You asked to be notified of Dr McCoy's arrival."
"Yes, thank you, Mr Kyle. Ask him to report to me, once he is settled." He took a deep breath then called the bridge. "Mr Spock, take us out of orbit and continue on our planned course."
Spock hesitated. "Are you all right, sir?"
"I'm fine, Mr Spock. I'm a little groggy. Just woke up. Please follow your orders."
"Affirmative, sir. Spock out."
Kirk shook his head. He couldn't fool his friend but, since that moment he had given Spock all of his pain, the Vulcan had maintained a discreet distance from him. Maybe it was best for both of them; they had become too close recently - much too close. Spock had been exposed to all of his feelings, during the times he had healed Kirk, and then there were the occasions they had spoken mind to mind. Also, Kirk wondered just how much damage Spock had received from exposure to the overpowering melds and death of the planet-being. Spock had almost been killed and had later said that only the link with Kirk - his t'hy'la, his chosen brother, had been strong enough to recall him from the depths of his mind where he retreated - shocked and injured.
Kirk smiled a little. He liked the term t'hy'la. He sensed it had several meanings but the chosen or bond-brother was one he cherished. For it was true. The feelings he had for Spock were not unlike those he had for Sam. Because of that he must protect Spock from any more of that deep, painful grief over Gary. Sam was a wonderful brother to him but Kirk wondered of even Sam would be able to help him over this. He groaned as a vision of Gary's decline into corruption forced itself on him and he wished he could lean on Spock's strength. That restful healing power of his was so tempting. Pulling himself together, Kirk dismissed the thought. Put his friend through such an ordeal? Never.
McCoy walked into Kirk's quarters. The news of Gary's death had shocked him and he knew that Jim would take it hard. Even so, he was unprepared for the tense, tight-lipped man who greeted him in silence. McCoy gripped Kirk's shoulder. "Jim, if only I'd been here..." He felt the bunched, tight muscles beneath his fingers.
"It wouldn't have made any difference." Kirk indicated a seat.
McCoy sat opposite him. "Jim, what happened? What happened to Gary?"
"Did you read my report?" Kirk asked.
"Yes, but it only gives the bare facts," McCoy persisted. "I know how Lee died but the other two..."
As nausea rose from his gut, Kirk's throat constricted. "We'll talk about it later. Right now I have work to do."
McCoy studied him, noting the strain, the paleness of Jim's usual glowing complexion, the dark smudges under his eyes. It was worse that he had expected for Kirk was denying his grief, attempting to control it. McCoy knew that if Kirk continued with this kind of denial it could suddenly explode; dangerous when one was a starship captain.
"You've not been sleeping properly, Jim," he stated.
"I'm fine, Doctor. Please excuse me."
"Jim, you got to talk to me," McCoy insisted.
"Later," Kirk suddenly flared, his eyes flashing.
Seeing that deep pain, McCoy did not retaliate. "Okay, Jim. I'll be in sickbay so come see me when you have the time." He stood up. It was not the time to put the young captain under any more pressure. He held out his hand and waited. Kirk nodded then, for a second, McCoy thought the other man was going to draw away from him. If this happened then things were even more serious than he hd believed.
Kirk hesitated, then gripped his hand for a moment. "Thank you, Bones," he said.
McCoy left the room, very concerned over his captain's wellbeing.
When Kirk did not come to sickbay, McCoy's worry increased. He tried to corner him several times over the next few days but Kirk refused to speak with him and, once, had stormed out of the room in anger over McCoy's questioning. The doctor didn't want to haul Kirk in for a complete medical just yet, not wanting to add to the other man's stress, and mulled over what to do. He considered his options and only one presented itself. Deep in his heart he knew that only one person could help Kirk and he was unable to escape that inevitability.
He had nothing in common with the first officer; they always seemed to rub each other the wrong way. Being honest with himself he accepted that something about Spock unnerved him. That cold Vulcan disdain always gave him the shudders yet Kirk basked in Spock's presence. Happy, confident and at ease with him. Everyone had remarked on it.
McCoy had seen Kirk bring the Vulcan out of a coma-like condition when normal medical methods had been useless. There had been a mind-link between the two; a silent, uncanny communication. There was a very real chemistry between them that defied description. Kirk had called the Vulcan 'brother' and the first officer had responded. They seemed to share an unusual kind of friendship; surely the Vulcan would know how to help.
He had never before entered the Vulcan's quarters and he felt an irrational touch of fear on seeing the alien artifacts, and weapons, against the background of vivid red drapes. The heat hit him like a furnace blast but he tried to ignore it.
"Dr McCoy, how may I assist you?" Spock stood up.
"I need to talk to you about the captain's health." McCoy forced himself to come closer.
"Indeed. Please be seated."
McCoy sat down, wiped the sweat from his upper lip and wondered how to begin. Would this ice-cold alien even understand the problem? "I'm concerned about Jim." He shuddered at the icy stare he received and went on, quickly. "He's holding in deep-seated grief over Gary's death and he won't talk to me. He keeps avoiding me. Mr Spock, he needs to release that grief and I was wondering if he had spoken to you at all about it." Spock clasped his hands on the desk. "He has not discussed it with me in any detail. He is restraining his emotions admirably."
"Dammit," McCoy spluttered. "It's not healthy for humans to bottle up emotions like that. It'll twist and turn inside him, poisoning him, until he releases it. He blames himself for the deaths on Delta Vega, burning up with guilt, but what I don't understand is why. He's a highly trained officer, he knows that a commander can't allow that kind of response over the deaths of any of his crew. Yes, he needs to mourn them, if he didn't he wouldn't be human, but this is not the way."
Spock sighed. McCoy could not penetrate his mental barriers the way Kirk did but the force of his emotions was uncomfortable. "Doctor, if Captain Kirk does not wish to discuss his feelings with you, there is nothing more to be said."
"That's not good enough, Mr Spock," McCoy retaliated. "The mental and physical condition of the captain is my responsibility and I must know what's troubling him. If he won't tell me then he must confide in you, his first officer. He is close to you, in some way, I've seen it. He brought you out of some condition I couldn't even begin to treat. You are a telepath, you must be aware of his pain. Are you so damn unfeeling that you ignore it?"
He stopped on seeing the total lack of expression on the Vulcan's face. He had no idea of how to reach him. "Mr Spock," he continued more gently. He needed to use reason not blind anger. The Vulcan was highly intelligent, civilised, and Jim both respected and admired him. In fact, Jim had sought Spock's friendship in a way that McCoy had never known him to do ever. "Jim has been my friend for many years. I have the greatest respect for him and the warmest of feelings. I'm his doctor but he won't let me near him. I must help him but I can't do it if you don't assist me. Don't you care about him at all? Don't you see what is happening to him?"
Spock looked down. He could not discuss matters that Jim had confided to him but was he at liberty to talk with McCoy about the incidents at the galactic barrier and on Delta Vega?
He recalled the day after Mitchell's death when he had been in Kirk's cabin going over the duty roster with him. It was difficult for they needed to find replacements for helm and navigation. Kirk had suddenly paled and began to shake. Thinking him ill, Spock had supported him around the shoulders. To his utter shock Kirk had clasped him in a desperation of grief; mind and body crying out for comfort. The depth of his torment had hit Spock like a raging storm, suffocating him with its devastating force, slicing through his damaged shields to reach the sensitive receptors beneath. Caught off-guard Spock had recoiled as if struck by a powerful blow, doubled up for a moment until his control had returned. Then he had straightened to find himself under the human's intense stare. For a long, excruciating, intimate, moment there had been an open, naked connection between them before Jim had drawn back apologising.
Spock knew that he should have pursued the matter then but he was still trembling inside from the shock and too afraid to expose himself further to the human's emotions. He had allowed Jim to walk away. Since then, Jim had kept a tight rein on himself but Spock was aware of his pain despite his attempts to hide it. Spock had hoped that his friend could deal with his grief as a Vulcan would - by controlling and erasing it - now though he suspected that there was something other than ordinary grief here. Perhaps due to events on Delta Vega that he, Spock, was unaware of.
Jim had not supplied the details and Spock tried to overcome his own guilt at being too much of a coward to take his friend into a meld to find out what was troubling him and to ease his suffering. What kind of friend am I, he wondered. How can I withhold simple comfort and understanding to one who is my t'hy'la. I am unworthy of such a friendship.
McCoy's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Mr Spock, he called you his friend, his brother, does that mean nothing to you?"
Spock stood up. "Do not question me, Dr McCoy. I am aware of my responsibility to my captain. It is not your concern."
McCoy was angered by the Vulcan's attitude. "I thought I might find that the person that Jim befriended just might return a little feeling to him. I see I was wrong. A walking computer has nothing but circuits and memory banks. It has no heart, no soul." He rose to his feet. "What kind of being are you, Mr Spock? Jim has lost more members of his crew, one of them his best friend, and all you can say is that he's controlling his emotions admirably!" His tone was scathing and in his outrage he had not noticed that he had moved closer to the first officer. He glared into dark, alien eyes and their intensity did not even register with him this time. "He needs a friend to talk with. A shoulder to cry on."
The Vulcan was alarmed. How could he open himself to Jim's guilt and grief? His shields, shaken by the recent months of friendship with the human, and almost totally destroyed by the planet-being of Athos had taken many days to repair. The force at the galactic barrier had weakened them again, but he had managed to keep that from Jim for he had wanted to spare the human any more worry. For Jim to have dealt with Mitchell was enough for him to cope with; if he had even suspected that Spock had been affected by the alien energy it would have further sapped his confidence.
Too much has happened, Spock told himself. I cannot allow myself to be vulnerable - not even for Jim. Can I?
"Doctor, you are his friend. You must do what has to be done," he said aloud.
"He won't let me," McCoy argued. "I've tried but he won't talk to me. I don't want to put him through any drastic therapies but I may have to if all else fails." The doctor's expression softened. "Mr Spock, Jim relies on you. He's relaxed with you. Please try and help him."
Spock suddenly saw McCoy in a different light. Gone was the crusty and abrasive human and in his place was compassionate and caring friend. He came to a decision; the only one possible. "Very well. I shall try. I must warn you that I cannot guarantee success. Feelings are alien to me and there is much, despite our friendship, that I do not understand about Jim."
McCoy wondered about Spock. He had seen how different the Vulcan was when in Kirk's company. He never seemed quite as cold. Sometimes it looked like he was standing by Jim in a protective way. McCoy shook himself. Why was he putting a human interpretation on a Vulcan's behaviour? Yet, he recalled the look on Spock's face when Jim, against all odds, had roused him from some type of coma after the mind-link with the planet-being. The Vulcan had looked awed, so open as he stared at Kirk.
His thoughts were interrupted by a call for Spock to go to the bridge. McCoy almost ran to keep up with the Vulcan's long strides and there was silence as they stood together in the turbo-lift. He wondered if his words had done any good at all.
Kirk swivelled round to greet them. "Ship approaching, Mr Spock. Take your station."
Spock complied and within a few seconds he had the information. "It is a class two Spican cruiser. Registration number DF1970. Owner - Lady Sara-Marissa Iandii. Reported missing ten solar years ago and presumed lost during the Klingon attack on Spica five. Life signs - one. Body readings low. The ship is drifting, sir. Engines are cold. The only activity is, I believe, emanating from the cryogenic chamber."
"The only way for her to survive," Kirk added.
"Affirmative, sir."
"Prepare to beam over, McCoy," Kirk said.
Spock stood. " Sir, the temperature is too low for comfort and there may be contaminant substances present. I would recommend that the landing party wear environmental suits."
Kirk suddenly smiled at him. It was the first time in fifteen days that Spock had seen that particular gesture from his captain and he realised that he had missed its friendly warmth. "A sensible precaution, Mr Spock. You have the con. I'm beaming over."
As Kirk left the bridge, a slight spring in his step, Spock wondered if this rescue mission might help his captain. Perhaps saving the life of Sara-Marissa Iandii would distract him from his grief.
She was one of the most beautiful women Kirk had ever seen. Like Sleeping Beauty she lay in the cryogenic unit, the shallow breathing of her slim, perfectly shaped body stirring long, black tresses that had grown past her tiny waist. The paleness of her skin and exquisite features made her look like some legendary faery creature. Kirk wondered what colour her eyes were.
McCoy studied his medi-scanner. "According to this she's perfectly healthy. To confirm it though, I'll need to do a full scan in sickbay."
Kirk nodded. "Beam her directly to the isolation chamber. We don't want any risks to the crew."
"Right. Have you found anything out here?"
"Not a thing. The drive is long dead. The computer mostly burned out. Only this life support unit functioned at all. I'd say she was lucky to survive."
"Drifting here in space for ten years. A regular Sleeping Beauty waiting for her prince."
"She's very beautiful." Kirk stared at her in wonder.
McCoy smiled. If Kirk was taking an interest in as member of the fairer sex then it was a good sign and a welcome one. "I'm sorry you can't wake her with a kiss," he said, with a smile.
"I'm no prince." Kirk laughed, embarrassed.
"Some might disagree with you on that," McCoy replied, grinning with satisfaction to see Jim's flush of pleasure at that remark.
Once it was confirmed that the woman they had rescued was Lady Sara and McCoy had determined that she was completely fit, Kirk decided to be present when she was brought out of cryogenic suspension. He told himself that it was his duty as captain to be there, but something else prompted him, he knew. There was a compelling aura about the woman lying there awaiting her awakening.
As he watched the revival procedure he found himself wondering again what colour her eyes were. Reviving her was a slow process but eventually the woman's breathing deepened, and she began a steady climb to normal sleep levels. A lock of her thick hair slid to hang over the side of the bed and he fought to stop himself from touching its shiny softness. As he watched, a flush spread on the pale alabaster of her skin, her eyelashes flickered and she released a soft sigh. He held his breath as her eyes slowly opened.
Christine Chapel leaned over the patient. "Sara, you're safe. You've been asleep for ten years. You're now aboard the USS Enterprise. I'm your nurse, Christine and this is Dr McCoy and Captain Kirk."
The woman smiled a little, turned her head to look at McCoy and then at Kirk. Her smile widened, lighting up her whole face. She was stunning. Kirk returned the smile. Her eyes were blue; a vivid piercing blue.
He clasped his hands behind his back. "Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Lady Sara. Rest now. We'll talk once you are sufficiently recovered."
Her eyes acknowledged his words and he thought there was a glimmer of interest in them. He smiled at her again and this time she responded with an alluring expression. Now he was certain of her interest in him. Once she was well enough, he would invite her to a formal meal with his officers. He didn't permit himself to think about what might happen after.
After their daily exercise session in the gymnasium, Spock decided to speak. He was unsure how to begin for Jim was sensitive on the matter of Gary Mitchell and Spock had never attempted to deal with human grief before. The changing rooms were deserted so before he lost his courage, Spock began, "Captain, it has been fifteen point nine days since the events on Delta Vega. Mr Mitchell's death was..."
"I don't want to discuss it, Spock," Kirk snapped.
"Sir, perhaps I could help," Spock persisted. "I wish to help."
Kirk flared up. "Didn't I make myself clear. I won't discuss it. I'm all right, I don't need your help."
Kirk's anger was strong and his rejection hurt. There was a strange, uncomfortable churning in Spock's stomach but, despite that, he reached out to touch his friend's arm. Kirk stepped away, avoiding the contact.
"Jim, you are in pain," Spock murmured.
"Of course, I am," Kirk hissed. "I'll get over it. Mind your own business, Mr Spock."
"Jim, you must speak to someone. It is illogical to..."
Two crewmen entered and Kirk, seizing his chance, left the room. Spock stared after him in shock then took control of himself. He had attempted to talk with Kirk but the human had refused to listen. He could not force the captain to heed him therefore he could but be there if needed. Jim would know this.
He went to his quarters, deciding that McCoy's assessment must have been wrong. Jim did not require his help at this time. He sat at his desk, steepled his fingers and recalled Jim's words, expression, tone of voice. That only served to cause him further uncertainty. Something was wrong with Jim but the stubborn human refused to acknowledge it. Jim was not releasing his grief, as a human should, and his show of temper had sprung from that.
What was he to do? Spock knew that he could ease Jim's pain with Vulcan mind techniques. He had never attempted those particular ones before but he did know that they required a lowering of barriers that would expose him to the deep, inner feelings of the highly, emotional human. No. It was impossible. The type of mind-touch necessary was normally used only by healers or a close family member. He shuddered as he realised that he had trapped himself. Jim was his brother in the ancient way and it was as powerful, perhaps moreso, than the bond of blood. It was his duty to help Jim. If it meant pain to himself and further damage to his mental shields, then so be it. Jim's peace of mind was more important than anything.
He would take Jim into the deep healing meld. He could do it. Jim was receptive to him for he had triggered the power of Spock's healing ability when seriously injured on Athene two. What more could be achieved if Spock applied himself to the healing. He must not fear what clearly was his duty to his t'hy'la. He was responsible for Jim and must attempt this course of action, but Jim would have to permit it.
Spock regretted the moment when he had recoiled from Jim. If only then he had found the courage to accept that plea for help. If only... I am a coward. Unworthy of his friendship, he berated himself.
The intercom buzzed. "Spock," Jim's voice called.
He switched to visual and studied his captain's troubled features. "Yes, sir." His voice was annoyingly clipped when he wished it to be reassuring. He must try harder to show his concern for Jim.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper with you," Kirk said.
"Your apology is unnecessary, Jim," Spock said, trying to gentle his tone.
"It is necessary. I can't treat you like that. I know you only want to help me, Spock, but I assure you that I'm all right. I promise you." He looked down but not before Spock saw the utter weariness in his eyes.
"Jim, may we speak further," Spock asked.
Kirk looked up then smiled a little. "Will you join me for a meal?"
"On my way," Spock replied, at once.
"Thank you, Spock." Kirk said, gratitude plainly showing on his face.
As they ate, Jim talked about their current mission to contact the star travelling Avilia civilisation in an attempt to bring them into the Federation. Ambassador, Dovo-Ran, had joined the Enterprise at Aldebaran and prepared for his task by remaining on his quarters studying all known facts about the Avilians. Kirk was glad of that, for he didn't care for bureaucrats who tried to interfere with the running of his ship; especially right now with his difficulty in overcoming his nightmares. He was tired and couldn't deal with anyone poking about.
Spock listened to Kirk, making no comment, and his calm and reassuring presence filtered through to Kirk's jangled nerves. Gradually, Kirk relaxed. He was feeling much better now and was about to tell Spock that when a sudden unbidden memory intruded. Gary sitting at this very table a few weeks ago, laughing, joking, larger than life. Any calm drained away leaving Kirk tense and choked with grief. He began to sweat. He had to get away from here. He couldn't bear to remain here.
Abruptly he stood up. "Excuse me," he said, turning away, leaving the rec room in uncharacteristic haste.
Astonished, Spock stared after him. Why had Jim left with half of his meal untouched? Why had had stopped in the middle of his conversation? What had caused him to become so pale? The Vulcan controlled his worry, as all eyes in the room were turned to him, and forced himself to return to his own food. Yet after one bite of his salad he pushed the plate away. He was unable to eat.
Lt Uhura came over to his table. "Is the Captain all right, sir?" she asked.
Spock stood up. "I do not know," he answered.
Uhura looked up at the tall Vulcan. He made her feel so fragile as he stood there towering over her. Yet, she didn't fear him. None of the women did, for his gentleness and courtesy were always apparent: a natural part of his being. "Sir, he seemed upset."
"Indeed, but I am at a loss as to why. I regret that I am unable to understand human behaviour."
"Do you think I should postpone the concert? Captain Kirk is still grieving over the loss of his crew," she asked. Uhura had mulled over this for days and had remained undecided whether or not to ask the first officer's opinion on the matter. Aware of his strict privacy she had been unsure if he could or would be able to help her.
He blinked, slightly startled by her question. He was aware of the upcoming concert. In fact Jim, after hearing him play the lyre one evening, had wanted him to share his musical talent and play for the crew in the very concert that Uhura was now considering cancelling. He had told Jim that he would consider it but had since decided that he would not be able to play in front of an audience. Playing the lyre for Jim, though, was a pleasure. The contentment oozing from his friend was all the reward he needed. Yet, he wondered if he should reconsider his decision, imagining Jim's delight at his appearance at the concert.
"Please be seated, Lieutenant," he said, indicating the chair opposite him. Uhura did so and waited as he re-seated himself. "I believe that you should continue with your plans for the concert. Captain Kirk was looking forward to it and perhaps it will divert his attention away from other problems. Is your programme complete?"
"Well, I'm still juggling with it and looking for more performers. At the moment there's only enough material for about an hour's show." Spock's attention on her was total and she shifted uncomfortably. How could the captain take that penetrating look and not flinch?
"I wish to audition." Spock's words caught her totally by surprise.
She gulped. "You sir?" She could scarcely believe it. Spock in her concert! The first officer, a Vulcan, at her concert!
"Yes, Lieutenant. May I?"
"W...Why of course, sir but..." She trailed off. "What is your... I mean what do you..."
"I play a musical instrument of Vulcan origin."
"I um... see. I'd be pleased to listen to you, sir." Who was she kidding? She would give anything to hear him play! She reined in her excitement. "When would it be suitable to hear you, sir?"
Spock considered for a moment. Should he audition now, during his off-duty time, or should he go to Jim and try to help him? He wanted to know why the human had departed in such a hurry. "Tomorrow after alpha shift," he suggested.
"Very well, sir. In the theatre room?"
"Affirmative. Now if you will excuse me." He stood up.
Uhura followed suit. "Sir, if I may... I had no idea that you played a musical instrument."
"I do not normally play for others." He avoided her eyes.
Uhura was very curious. "Then why do you want to now?"
He hesitated for a moment before meeting her eyes. "It is the captain's wish that I audition for you."
"Then you've played for him?" She smiled, suddenly realising his motives. It was his way of pleasing Kirk and trying to help the man who was his only real friend. She knew that he must play well, as everything he did was exceptional, but for him to overcome his reserve was a measure of how much regard he had for Kirk. She was deeply touched. "I look forward to hearing you play, Mr Spock."
He bowed. "Thank you, Lt Uhura."
She watched him leave; a tall, thin and lonely figure. Somehow he seemed lost, forlorn even without Kirk beside him, for this was the time of day he normally spent with the captain. They dined together, after exercise in the gym, talking in a relaxed and amiable fashion. They were the very personification of the Federation belief of the equality and friendship of different species.
Uhura had worked for a time with Spock, when Pike had still been captain of the Enterprise. The Vulcan was very much respected but he had been a recluse and seemingly by choice. Kirk had caused a change in him and in some ways she was not surprised. Kirk had a powerful, dynamic personality. Everyone was susceptible to his personal charisma. She, herself, was very attracted to him but he regarded her as vital operating personnel, as he did all his crew. A starship commander could not afford to treat his female officers as anything else. In any other way lay danger to his command, his authority and his crew's respect.
That the cold, unemotional first officer had responded to Kirk's charisma, there was no doubt. There was a relaxation in his controls in the way he reacted to Kirk's jests and teasing, with a bemused and often startled air. The way he seemed to stand tall when praised by Kirk, the manner in which he supported the captain at all times. It was far from one-sided though. Kirk had changed from the unsure, tension-filled young captain to a confident commander; that is until recently. Gary Mitchell, in death, unsettled Kirk even more than he had done in life. She hoped that the Vulcan, as he obviously wished to do, could ease his captain's grief.
She sat down again and wished for tomorrow to come. Mr Spock auditioning for her! Unbelievable....
***
Spock found Kirk's cabin to be empty and wondered what to do next. Should he call him over the intercom or permit him to find solitude somewhere within the large ship that was their home? He went to his own quarters, picked up his lyre and absently began to tune it. What complex, illogical these humans were. They were so unpredictable. How was he to deal with his captain?
He stared at the far wall and considered how Jim had changed his life. Deeply hidden emotions had emerged. His normally inviolate shields had been pierced with ease. He had no defence against the pain of his t'hy'la, his chosen brother. His duty was to support him, heal him if possible, but he was unable to do anything if Jim would not permit it.
For a brief moment, he longed for the days of Captain Pike's command. No demands besides those required by his scientific duties, no need to be involved in another's life. No companion, no friend. Nothing. Loneliness, pointless existence. He closed his eyes and chastised himself. Coward. Afraid of commitment. Afraid of living, of your human heritage...
He lost himself in playing the lyre, the beauty of the music soothing him as he tried to find an answer to his problem.
***
McCoy was surprised at seeing Kirk enter sickbay during the time the captain usually spent with the Vulcan, but he said nothing.
"How is the patient?" Kirk asked.
"She's well considering the time she spent in that cryogenic unit. A little malnourished but that's normal. Do you want to talk to her? She's delightful."
Kirk nodded. "I'd like that, Bones."
He was ushered into one of the private rooms and into the presence of Sara-Merisse Iandii, and was struck again by her exquisite elfin beauty. She held out her hand and he held it between both of his. Her tiny hand, dwarfed by his, lay there trustingly and she smiled up at him her face open and innocent as she gazed into his eyes.
"Captain," she said, in a husky voice that trembled with emotion. "I am deeply grateful to you for rescuing me. How can I repay you?"
On an impulse, he bent and kissed her hand. Her skin was as soft as velvet, her scent intoxicating. It was difficult to draw his lips away. "It was my duty to rescue you, Lady Sara." He smiled and she responded with a breathtaking one of her own.
"Please call me Sara."
"Sara it is. My name is Jim."
"Jim." Her voice sounded it out like a caress.
He shivered a little but soon brought himself under control. There were many lovely women aboard his ship and he had taught himself not to become attracted to any of them. However, this woman was not crew and his normal restraint deserted him. He dismissed his guilt over feeling this way. He was a young, healthy human male; sexual urges were normal. Sara was attracted to him and he to her. He would woo her if he had to, but she would, eventually be his. Of that he was certain.
"Dr McCoy says that I may be discharged soon. May I ask about my future?" She looked at him wide-eyed.
He sought to reassure her. "We'll drop you at the nearest starbase or Federation world where the authorities can help you in your return to civilisation. I can't tell you how long this will be as the duration of our current mission can't be judged. However there's much of interest on the ship. We have all the latest Federation knowledge on our computer and you'll be able to catch up on all you've missed. A lot has happened in the ten years you were out of it."
"I do wish to learn everything that has occurred during my long sleep, Jim, and I hope too that we can become good friends." She smiled and it was full of promise.
"I'm sure we will," he reassured.
End of Part one