November 2022: Look me in the eyes

[marcicatverse]

Title: Look me in the eyes
Author: marcicat

Rating: T
Fandom: Star Trek: Strange New Worlds

Summary: Summary: AU. What if Christine and T’Pring had started talking after the katra-swap episode?



Chapter 1

When the computer chimed with an incoming communications request, it wasn’t entirely surprising to see that it was from T’Pring. Inconvenient, maybe – she’d just gotten off shift; she wanted a shower, a nap, and a hot meal, in that order. But not surprising.

Vulcans liked information, and swapping bodies with Spock, however temporarily, must have given them both a lot to sort through. It was only logical that T’Pring would want to ask her own questions about the experience.

Hopefully it was a good sign that T’Pring didn’t think an in-person visit was necessary – she hadn’t forgotten Erica’s warning about Vulcans and lirpas. She shook the tension out of her shoulders and accepted the call. “T’Pring. What can I do for you?”

”Nurse Chapel.” T’Pring nodded politely. ”Why did you accompany Spock when he apprehended Barjan?”

There were plenty of answers she could give, but only one that was the truth. “Because he asked me to.”

T’Pring frowned. ”There was no logical reason for your presence at the meeting.”

“Sure there was. Moral support is a well-studied phenomenon. For humans. Sometimes things are easier together than they would be alone.”

”Easier,” T’Pring said. It was only her eyebrows that made it a question.

“Better, then.” She wondered if T’Pring was querying the computer for a definition of moral support.

Apparently she was. ”You posit that your presence provided a psychological benefit that allowed Spock to perform his duties more effectively.” The skepticism came across loud and clear.

“I suggest that the presence of a trusted person can increase confidence in carrying out a task, as well as satisfaction once the task is complete.” There were plenty of studies to back her up; she wouldn’t insult T’Pring’s research abilities by sending them to her. “And you know, as someone who switched katras with their betrothed by accident, you might not want to dismiss the psychological side of things too quickly.”

T’Pring’s expression turned thoughtful. “That is true.” And then she added, ”Spock has expressed that he finds your advice valuable, along with your friendship.”

That brought them into more uncertain territory. She still wasn’t sure of T’Pring’s goal with this little chat. Was it a ‘keep your human wiles away from my betrothed’ kind of call, or an ‘explain your illogical actions’ kind of call? “I appreciate Spock’s friendship,” she said carefully.

T’Pring visibly hesitated, which made her nervous. But when she finally spoke, it wasn’t any of the things she’d expected. ”There are – a limited number of people with relevant experience to certain experiences I find myself encountering,”, T’Pring said slowly. As if she was well aware of the conversational minefield she was navigating.

”Spock is the only half-human currently acknowledged by the Council, and the only Vulcan currently bonded to a human is Ambassador Sarek. While it would be logical to make inquiries to him, I have found myself reluctant to do so.”

She could feel her own eyebrows going up. “Yeah, I can see how that would be awkward.”

”Ambassador Sarek has many demands on his time,” T’Pring clarified.

“Sure, that too.” She tried to look like she hadn’t been imagining T’Pring asking Spock’s dad questions about her relationship with his son.

”You are a human, with experience in human relationships. You are also a medical professional. You have provided useful advice to Spock when requested.”

She knew there was at least a fifty percent chance she was being insulted, but T’Pring was obviously trying to lead the conversation to some sort of logical conclusion, and she was incredibly curious what it might be. “My last advice to Spock got you stuck in each other’s bodies,” she pointed out.

”Yes,” T’Pring agreed. ”It was an – illuminating experience. Would you be willing to expand your assistance going forward?”

“I’m not sure I follow.” It sounded like T’Pring wanted her to keep giving Spock advice, which was the exact opposite of where she thought they’d been heading.

”Both Spock and myself find ourselves in the position of – seeking advice, in order to proceed with our relationship amidst variable and potentially conflicting factors. Logically, if we both receive advice from the same source, this advice would have a better chance of improving the situation rather than worsening it.”

Oh, it was much worse than she thought. T’Pring wanted her to give both of them advice. About each other. She (unfortunately) couldn’t say it was the most uncomfortable relationship situation she’d ever gotten herself into, but it was rapidly rising through the ranks. Now she had to figure out a way to extricate herself without making things worse for Spock.

At least Vulcans typically appreciated blunt honesty. “T’Pring,” she said, deliberately making eye contact and keeping her voice neutral. “This is a terrible idea.”

”I disagree,” T’Pring immediately replied.

She could feel a smile attempting to break through, and ruthlessly suppressed it. She was starting to see why Spock was trying so hard, but she stayed silent, waiting.

Finally, T’Pring somewhat grudgingly added, ”However. I admit that our perspectives of the situation are by necessity not identical. As it is your advice I am seeking, it would be illogical to disregard your opinion. I rescind my request.”

“Thank you,” she said. And then, already wondering if she was making a mistake: “Look, I’m not interested in being anyone’s relationship coach. Trust me, that would be the ultimate irony, given my track record. But I’m always happy to make a new friend.”

T’Pring stared at her in silence long enough that she checked to make sure the screen hadn’t frozen. Finally she said, ”I see. And how does one… make friends?”

She didn’t bother hiding her smile that time. “Humans are as variable in that as they are in nearly everything else. For myself, there’s no formal rules to it. You can just decide to be friends, and then you are. It’s as simple as that.”

T’Pring frowned. ”That sounds – imprecise. But I do not know enough about humans to contradict your assertion.”

“Well, there you go. You can consider me the subject matter expert on this situation. I now consider myself your friend, and I hope you will do the same for me.”

”Is that not a requirement?”

“It is not. Friendship is not necessarily reciprocal, though most find that to be the most satisfying outcome.”

There was another long pause. T’Pring gave every appearance of dedicated consideration of her words. ”Experiential learning would seem to be the logical course of action in this situation. Nurse Chapel, I consider myself your friend as well.”

“I appreciate it. And T’Pring – friends are welcome to call anytime.”


Chapter 2

The second call from T’Pring – that was a surprise. Somehow, she hadn’t actually expected her to reach out again. The universe might be full of mysteries, but there were certain things she figured were a solid bet. Vulcans avoiding anything that might be interpreted as a social call was definitely one of those things.

And yet here they were. “T’Pring,” she greeted. “What can I do for you?”

”Nurse Chapel. I request that you share your opinion on the most recent publication put forth by Starfleet’s Medical Alumni Association.”

She liked to think she was a person who approached conversations without a lot of preconceived notions about how they were going to proceed. And it wasn’t like she didn’t have an opinion to share.

So she immediately answered, “I think it’s a travesty. The authors had half a crumb of a good idea and then buried it under an avalanche of poorly interpreted metastudies and backwards thinking that was debunked a century ago.”

That was when the part of her brain that was background-processing the call, trying (and failing) to fit it into some sort of context, caught up with her. “Wait,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

T’Pring calmly took a sip of – was that tea? Wine? ”I have been researching the requirements of maintaining a successful human friendship. Discussions of shared interests consistently ranks in the top five recommended activities.”

She blinked. She wasn’t sure what was more unbelievable – that T’Pring was researching friendship activities, or that T’Pring wanted to put that research into practice, with her.

T’Pring seemed to take her silence as a request for clarity. She added, ”Your articles regarding the intersection of epigenetic research and Federation policies indicated a 92.5% probability that the publication in question would be of interest to you.”

“You read my articles?” They were all technically public, but they were intended for a purely academic audience. Then again, maybe for Vulcans that counted as light reading.

”Yes. The Stanford Morehouse Epigenetic Project is a key participant in the first Starfleet-sponsored genetics research since the Eugenics Wars; the Vulcan Science Academy is a co-sponsor.”

She nodded. She’d classify the VSA as more of a not-so-silent partner making sure the humans didn’t go off the deep end, but she supposed ‘co-sponsor’ wasn’t entirely inaccurate. “Do you know, I think you’re the first person I’ve heard say that full name who managed to make it sound graceful? I wasn’t aware you had an interest in genetics.”

”It is the implications for cultural observation that drew my attention. Given the historical precedents, I remain uncertain with regards to large-scale implementation. Do you agree with the assertion that Starfleet intends to use this research to enhance cultural understanding?”

She did not, but she wasn’t sure she should say that on an unencrypted comm link. “I think a lot of things that were originally envisioned as having a purely research-oriented purpose wound up being used in ways their creators never intended.”

”Which could be either positive and negative,” T’Pring countered. ”Does the research not have value on its own, regardless of the uses that come later?”

She leaned forward. “Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? You read the proposal – Starfleet’s initiative to better observe alien cultures without contamination. It’s a decent theory, but I think there’s good reason to be uncertain. We currently have the ability to effect short-term physiological changes, not anything that would allow the sort of extended immersion that a true cultural study would require.”

It was, however, the kind of thing the Security branch of Starfleet would love to get its hands on. Perfect for all kinds of spying and sabotage that they officially knew nothing about and definitely were not involved in. Neither of them were saying it, but she was sure they were both thinking it. Whether on purpose or by coincidence, T’Pring’s next question maneuvered them back towards safer conversational ground.

”It would be illogical to assume that any level of physiological change would allow an observer to interact with a culture without influencing it.” T’Pring hesitated, and then added, ”Would it not?”

It was the hesitation that convinced her. T’Pring was serious – serious about her questions, serious about her determination to be a friend. For however long it lasted, she would respect that. Her own advice to Spock echoed in her head – be honest with yourself, about what you can offer. And she found that she had been serious too – she was always happy to make a new friend.

“It would,” she agreed. “Most cultures we’ve encountered have norms and expectations that would make any outsider easily identifiable, regardless of their appearance. If it was that easy, any Vulcan could jam a hat over their ears and pass as human, am I right?

T’Pring raised a single eyebrow. “I cannot think of a single instance in which such a ruse would be effective.”

“Well, I’m sure we could come up with some kind of logical scenario, if we tried hard enough.”

”I expect such a discussion would require a considerable investment of time.”

She pushed aside any lingering confusion and settled more comfortably in her chair. “It’s a good thing we’re friends now, then. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about it.”


Chapter 3

She dropped into the open seat with a sigh, and let her head fall back against the cushions. Three separate cases of unexplained skin rash had led to the discovery that one of the ensigns had smuggled a cat onboard, and the paperwork had taken hours to sort out.

“Hey,” she said. “Thanks for waiting.”

Erica immediately poked her arm, and then pushed a plate towards her. “Where have you been? We expected you ages ago! Here, we saved your portion anyway.”

“I saved your portion,” Jenna said, reaching across the table to hand her a fork. “This one was planning on eating it and claiming the replicator ran out. I had to take custody of your fork to fend her off.”

“You’re a true hero of our times.” She took the fork and exchanged a gentle fist bump with Jenna at the same time.

Starfleet swore up, down, and backwards that there was no difference at all between food replicated using fresh versus reconstituted source material. And yet after every re-supply, the crew could identify the exact day and time when the fresh supplies ran out. She was holding the last slice of pie made with original blueberries that she’d see for a while. (Unless the Captain was hiding some in his quarters somewhere; she wouldn’t bet against it and absolutely no one was willing to question him about it.)

Erica cleared her throat. “And now that you’re here, you can tell us what’s been going on with you.”

She rolled her eyes, even though she knew it was a lost cause. Erica knew her too well. “Nothing is going on with me. Tell me your news instead while I eat; then you can interrogate me some more.”

She let the words wash over her, and felt the last of the day’s tension drain away. Their current batch of cadets was making waves, the engineering techs were complaining about supplies, someone had revived the rumor that the lab minions were running an underground contraband trade.

Finally, Erica leaned forward with an expectant expression. “So? Your turn.”

She looked around, but they were alone in the lounge. Nothing stayed secret on a ship like the Enterprise for long, but that didn’t mean she wanted to share it with a crowd. “Well. So, you know when we were on shore leave, and you told me to never get in the middle of a Vulcan relationship?”

Erica’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t!”

“What?” She waved the hand that wasn’t holding the fork. “No! Of course I didn’t!”

Erica looked skeptical. “Then – what? Your face is doing a thing.”

“That is not a face that says ‘nothing is going on,’” Jenna agreed.

“My face is not doing anything except eating,” she said. “And nothing is going on.” They obviously didn’t believe her. “Nothing bad is going on,” she clarified. “Lirpas have not been involved in any way, I promise.”

“But?” Erica prompted.

She sighed without meaning to. “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?”

Not always, but Erica had a point. They’d gotten through weirder situations, more than once. The time with the phaser. The time with the shuttle, wow, she hadn’t thought about that one in years. “I think we’re friends,” she said finally.

Jenna frowned. “You and Spock? Everyone knows that. Even the cadets know that.”

“Me and Spock.” She pushed the empty plate away from her and put both hands on the table. “And me and T’Pring.”

“Spock’s girlfriend?” She had no idea how Erica could sound so scandalized; she was literally the one who’d brought up the idea in the first place. “Tell us the truth; are you sleeping with him? With her? How long has this been going on?”

“Both of them would make the most sense,” Jenna said thoughtfully. “Since they have those –” She wiggled her fingers like that would mean something to them.

“Neither of them would make the most sense,” she corrected. “Because I’m not sleeping with either of them. We’re talking, that’s it. Since shore leave.”

“You’ve been ‘talking’ with T’Pring and Spock since shore leave, and you’re telling us sex hasn’t come up even one time?”

She really did make a face at that. “I didn’t say sex had never come up; I said we’re talking. As friends. T’Pring’s not even on the ship, what exactly do you think we could be doing?”

Erica shrugged. “She’s not on the ship now, sure. But she was. And Spock is here.”

“I’m not sure you actually have to be in the same place,” Jenna said, and then seemed startled when they both turned to stare at her. “But I don’t know! I just heard that; I could be wrong.”

“No, no, you can’t leave it at that. Where are you getting this information? What does –” Erica wiggled her fingers back at Jenna “--that even mean?”

“I have a cousin?” Jenna offered. “She’s had a Vulcan roommate for a while. And it’s –” She wiggled her fingers again. “You know, the bonding thing they do. It’s not always just two people.”

“The mind meld?” she offered. She’d traded M’Benga for a detailed review of everything he knew about Vulcans, and mind melds had come up a lot more often than she’d expected.

Humans tended to think of Vulcans as logical and science-oriented, which she suspected the Vulcans encouraged for reasons of their own. They downplayed their mental abilities and kept nearly all their medical research behind proprietary walls. Even M’Benga had barely scratched the surface, and she suspected there was a great deal he’d had to guess at.

But Jenna shook her head. “No, that’s different. Mind melds are temporary; bonds are permanent, I think? And having multiple bonds helps them with their emotional regulation. They can be with family, or close friends, or more than close friends – you know.”

Erica pointed at Jenna. “You, we’re coming back to later. I want to know everything; why has this cousin never come up before?” She moved her finger and poked Christine again. “And you! I’m sitting here trying to imagine you talking with Spock’s girlfriend. What is that even like?”

She poked Erica right back. “I already said, I think we’re friends now. She’s very – focused. You’d like her, I think.”


Chapter 4

“Spock?”

She’d prefer doing paperwork for a hundred unauthorized pets than the absolute cluster that their supposedly ‘routine mission’ had become on Majalis. Nothing had been announced officially – so naturally, everyone was talking about what had happened.

She’d heard at least a dozen minor variations in the rumors, but the important details were consistent: there had been a child, and now there wasn’t. And Spock had locked himself in the Communications Lab and hadn’t been seen since.

Lucky for her, a medical override could get her into just about anywhere. It couldn’t override a command code keeping the lights off, though. “I know you’re in here, in case you were planning on pretending otherwise.”

Spock’s voice came from the far side of the room. “Typically a locked door indicates a goal of avoiding others.”

She pivoted towards the back wall, and hoped she wouldn’t trip over anything. “Yeah, well, your minions tattled on you. They’re worried about you.” She edged carefully around a table and could just barely make out Spock – a darker smudge against the already-dark surroundings. “I can’t imagine why.”

“There is no reason for them to be concerned.”

He was in a locked room sitting on the floor in the dark, and he didn’t think there was any reason to be concerned? “Really? How about the fact that you haven’t eaten for the last three duty shifts?”

“I have access to food in my quarters.”

“Which you also haven’t been to, since you’ve been here. With the lights off.” Her eyes were finally adjusting to the dark, and she put her hand against the wall to guide her the last few steps.

“Vulcans have higher visual acuity in low light than humans. My current activity does not require additional lighting.”

“Okay.” He was still talking and he hadn’t (exactly) kicked her out, so she was going to go ahead and consider that as warm a welcome as she could expect. She sat down as close as she dared. “And what activity is that?”

“I am – processing. The events of our most recent mission were unexpected. Additional reflection is recommended to maintain an emotional equilibrium.”

“Mm. And how’s that going for you?”

Spock stayed quiet long enough that she thought he might not answer at all, but then he said, “Not well.”

“Since not talking about it isn’t working, do you maybe want to try talking about it instead?”

“I find myself – conflicted,” Spock said slowly. “Logic dictates that the good of the many outweighs the good of the few, or the one. Yet, I remain uncertain.”

They all had missions that hit them like that. Times when there was no avoiding it, no letting it go and bouncing back; when all you could do was drag yourself through it, one agonizing finger-length at a time, until you got to the other side. “This one was hard for you.”

Spock made a noise that could have been assent. “He was a child. It was our duty to protect him. We could have saved him.”

“Could we?”

She thought Spock had turned to look at her. “If I had not revealed his location, he would not have been found in time for the ceremony to occur.”

Her heart ached for him. “He wanted to be found, Spock. He called you for help, and you answered. That’s never the wrong choice.”

“Even though it led to his death?”

She pushed down her instinct to reach out and put her hand over his. “None of us can account for every possible outcome when we make a decision. Every choice leads to a cascade of consequences we may never even be aware of.”

She put her hands in her own lap instead, and locked her fingers together. “You said the good of the many outweighs the good of the one. Setting aside the fact that ‘good’ is subjective, the calculation itself is theoretical. Real-world application is impossibly complex.”

“I do not follow.”

“In this situation, can you calculate with absolute certainty the number of lives saved or lost?”

“I cannot. Information may be imprecise; decisions based on educated guesswork are often necessary. However, under the circumstances, even an approximation seems clear.”

She gripped her fingers tighter. “But when do you stop, Spock? How far forward do you extrapolate, to count the gains and losses? How far back, to assign responsibility?”

“I am responsible for my own actions. If I had simply asked his father what his role was to be –”

She interrupted him. “Or if anyone else had asked. Or if his father had volunteered that information. And maybe if you hadn’t found him, someone else would have. Maybe if he wasn’t there, millions of people would have died. Or maybe they would have found a way to evacuate. Maybe they would have stuck some other kid in the machine instead. Maybe he would have been grateful you saved him, and grown up to invent a cure that would save billions. Maybe he would have resented you for your interference, and dedicated his entire life to destroying everything you care about.”

Something in her words – or maybe just the sheer quantity of them – caught his attention, and she could feel the shift. “That seems – unlikely,” he offered.

“But not impossible,” she countered. “Spock, you could torture yourself forever with what-ifs. No one can know the future. We can only make the best choice we can with the information we have available.”

“What if we could?”

She blinked. “What if we could what?”

“Know the future, or specific events of the future.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Trust me, it doesn’t help as much as you might think.”

Spock hesitated, and his voice was carefully neutral when he answered. “I am aware, yes.”

She turned to look at him – or in his direction, at least. “What, really?”

“It is classified.”

“Ah. Mine probably would be too, if I’d ever told anyone about it.”

“If you ever wanted to,” he said, still in that careful tone. “I would listen.”

She already wanted to take back what little she’d said, but she could appreciate the offer as the gesture it was intended to be. “Thanks.”

She thought Spock nodded. “And your question – I will meditate on it.”

“Let me know what you come up with?”

“I will. And you? Have you reached any conclusions?”

She spread her hands apart, palms up. “The universe is vast, and all of us are so tiny, but we care so much. Every choice is a choice. And someday, hopefully a very long time from now, entropy will be the period at the end of every story.”

“Possibly,” Spock said, surprising her.

“What?”

“Entropy will possibly be the end. The principle of cosmic uncertainty suggests that it is impossible to know the exact circumstances of how this universe will end, until such time as there is empirical evidence to study. In addition, replicable results would be required for any theory to move beyond the realm of coincidence.”

“Are you saying we can’t know how the universe will end until it’s already happened? Multiple times?”

“I am merely conveying scientific principles relevant to the discussion.”

She smiled, and shook her head. “You’re something else, Spock. But who knows? Maybe the universe will keep surprising us, even then.”


Chapter 5

”Spock intended to speak with you before our call,” T’Pring said, skipping the usual greeting entirely. ”Did he do so?”

“He did. Spock told me about your latest selection of reading material.” She raised her glass in what could have been a toast, if they were close enough to toast and not sitting at computer screens light years apart. “I have some suggestions, if you’re looking for more varied viewpoints.”

T’Pring frowned. ”That is not what I anticipated Spock discussing with you.”

That sounded – potentially ominous. “Okay,” she said slowly, putting her glass back down. “Are you going to tell me what you thought he was going to tell me?”

“I do not wish to betray his confidence.” T’Pring frowned harder. “Yet it is a matter of some importance; a delay is not optimal. If his schedule allows, I suggest adding him to our conversation at this time.”

Before she could say anything, T’Pring was already contacting Spock, and her screen split to display both of them.

”Spock, did we not agree that we would employ honesty in our relationship?”

Spock looked surprised, and she in turn was surprised she could recognize it, even on a video screen. ”We did,” he said.

”And did we not also agree that we would employ that same honesty in our relationships with Christine?”

Alarm bells suddenly blared in her mind. “Whoa, what? No, what relationship with Christine?”

”We did,” Spock answered, and then raised one eyebrow. ”Is friendship not a type of relationship?”

She narrowed her eyes. That was not the kind of relationship T’Pring’s statement had implied, and he knew it.

”And yet Christine remains unaware of the discussions that you and I have had, despite your assurance that you would inform her.”

Spock’s eyes flicked away from the screen – he was nervous. ”It is – complicated. These things take time.”

”I remain unconvinced,” T’Pring said flatly. She looked like she wanted to reach through the screen and hit someone. Or maybe both of them; it was hard to tell.

She held up both hands. “Okay, time out, whoa. No need for arguing; we’re all friends here. Right? Everyone can agree on that?”

Spock nodded. ”Yes.”

”Yes,” T’Pring agreed. ”Your friendship is – important, to us. To me. I have found it to be an unexpectedly rewarding endeavor.”

For T’Pring, that was practically a gushing declaration, and she felt warmth curling in her chest even as her wariness increased. “Thank you, T’Pring. It’s been an honor to join you in that endeavor. Question, though – why are we talking like we’re all about to die?”

”Spock anticipates you will react negatively to his query; it seemed advisable to ‘begin with a positive,’ as Humans are fond of saying.”

Spock made a strangled sound, which only served to draw their attention to him. ”Yes?” T’Pring said.

”I – in our recent calls, T’Pring has asked if my feelings for you are different than those for my other Human friends.”

She hesitated, looking back and forth between him and T’Pring. “That wasn’t a question, but – are they?”

Spock visibly braced himself. “I do not know. I was not able to answer the question in a manner that was satisfactory to either of us. T’Pring suggested that I inquire as to your own feelings, since I was unsure of my own.”

It was almost cute how they kept oh-so-politely passing the blame back and forth between them. If only it wasn’t for the purpose of dragging out things she’d prefer to keep hidden.

She held up a hand. “Just for the record, I was happy to leave this un-mentioned and unacknowledged forever. Yes, I have feelings for Spock. Feelings other than friendship. But come on, half the crew has a crush on Spock, I’m not special.”

Neither Spock or T’Pring looked surprised. ”I believed this to be the case,” T’Pring said.
”However, my research was not able to accurately convey how Humans define the distinction between these two states. I found the information available to be – lacking.”

She really wanted to know how T’Pring had worded those search queries. “I can imagine,” she said.

”Perhaps you could offer your own insight. How is a ‘crush’ different from a friendship?”

And she definitely should have seen that coming. “Oh, I am not the best person to ask. I avoid romantic relationships for a reason.”

T’Pring’s expression turned frustrated, as it often did when her research provided only conflicting results. ”And yet you were able to identify a difference in your own emotional state. How did you make that determination?”

Unfortunately, it was a reasonable question. If it had been unreasonable, she could have justified not answering. “It’s not always a clear distinction.” She tapped her fingers on the table, trying to find the right words.

“I can’t speak for all Humans, but for me I’d say it’s about intimacy. Not necessarily physical. You want to share more of yourself with them, and you want them to share themselves with you in return.”

She shrugged. “Spock isn’t wrong that it’s complicated. How do you know that what you feel for each other is different from friendship?”

”Vulcan relationships and Human relationships are quite dissimilar,” T’Pring offered. ”As Humans do not naturally share a mental connection. Among Vulcans, it is the feedback from that mental connection that most often indicates the relationship’s potential.”

Spock added, “T’Pring and I have been promised to each other since we were children; our bond has grown over time. When navigating relationships with non-telepathic individuals, we are — to use a Human phrase — ‘flying blind.’ It can lead to confusion, particularly if communication is not maintained as a top priority.”

“And you’re telling me this because –” She trailed off, hoping one of them would fill in the answer.

”Is our intention not clear?” T’Pring asked.

She tried to look calm. “I would appreciate clarification.” She looked away, and muttered, “I can’t tell if I’m being punked, or invited to the polycule.”

T’Pring tapped her screen. “Your last statement did not translate.”

Damn that Vulcan enhanced hearing. She braced herself to explain, but Spock cleared his throat. ”It is neither,” he said. ”We are not attempting to play a practical joke, nor are we requesting that you join our romantic relationship at this time.”

T’Pring nodded her agreement, and Spock continued. ”We wish to — open a dialogue. Regarding potential optional changes in the nature of our relationship.”

“A dialogue,” she repeated.

Spock looked relieved, like he thought that meant she understood and agreed. Or like he had expected an automatic rejection, she supposed.

“And this is something you’ve discussed, regarding me in particular.” It seemed important to clarify that point.

“Yes,” T’Pring said. ”Our friendship with you is of great value to both of us. Logic suggests other types of relationships may prove equally worthwhile.”

Trust Vulcans to bring up logic at all possible occasions. “I’d like some time to think about it,” she said finally.

”Of course,” Spock replied.

”I will send you a selection of materials you may find relevant,” T’Pring added.

“Of course, thank you.” She closed the call without a sign-off, and dropped her head into her hands. Had that really just happened?

What she should do, she decided, was to carefully consider the potential choices and the expected consequences of each. What she wanted, on the other hand, was a distraction.


Chapter 6

”Intruder alert. Defensive stations.”

She had every intention of obeying the command. Even civilian crew had an assigned defensive station, along with basic training about what to do if they were ever ordered to go there in the midst of an intruder alert. She was supposed to be in Sickbay, which was comfortably defensible and well-stocked with supplies.

Unfortunately, that training had never addressed what they were supposed to do if they ran into the intruders on the way to their defensive station. Or if said intruders were in the process of capturing the crew to take them who knew where. She’d ducked into the nearest Jefferies tube when her fight or flight instinct kicked in, and she was desperately trying to come up with a step two.

“I’m not panicking,” she said, mostly to counteract her internal monologue of panic. “Who doesn’t want to have a reason to explore the ship via Jefferies tubes?”

She must have jinxed herself when she hoped for a distraction. She’d been thinking along the lines of helping some colonists, or getting the yeomen to explain the rules of hall ball again. Pirates taking over the ship definitely wasn’t what she’d been hoping for.

“How is that even a career choice in this day and age,” she muttered, jamming her thumb against the door release. “Piracy.”

Someone had managed to lock down the computer before the pirates took over, which was probably Starfleet SOP, but it was incredibly inconvenient for any actual crew still on the ship. Everything had to be done manually, including opening and closing every hatch and access door along the way. It would take her ages to get to Sickbay, and then what? She’d just be hiding in Sickbay, instead of hiding in the Jefferies tubes.

“They could have gone into medicine; turns out there’s plenty of excitement in that.” She closed her eyes, but it only made the memory of fighting the pirates in the hallway replay in her brain. She gave herself a ten count to let the adrenaline fade, and took a deep breath.

So, Sickbay was out. If she could get to Engineering, on the other hand, she might be able to convince the computer to at least let her send a distress call.

“Right,” she said. “You can do this. You just have to climb through the Jefferies tubes, get to Engineering, take out any pirates who happen to be there, and send a distress call. It’s simple. Anyone could do it.” She hoped anyone could do it. She’d settle for just her being able to do it.

And of course, the Jefferies tubes that led anywhere useful – like, say, Engineering – had all locked down too. She knew she was getting closer when she had to start using her medical override code to get through, but it was slow going. She could only hope that at least the pirates were having as much trouble getting anything done as she was.

And then the final door wouldn’t open. “This cannot be happening. Why are you not opening?” She glared at the door, and the access panel blinked innocently back at her.

Breathe, she reminded herself. Keep breathing. It was fine. No one was looking for her; the pirates seemed to be ignoring the Jefferies tubes entirely. It was physically impossible for the tube to be shrinking, or for the air to be running out. She would just – enter the numbers again, and the door would open.

The door beeped another refusal of her code, and she swore. “Medical override,” she hissed at it. “Medical override; that’s supposed to work. What if someone was injured on the other side of this door? Then you’d feel bad about not letting me through, don’t you think?”

She took another breath, while the door remained stubbornly closed.

Technically, she was only supposed to have access to the civilian-issue medical override code, since Starfleet didn’t tend to hand out the high-level access to anyone who wasn’t enlisted.

Practically speaking, she’d memorized M’Benga’s code ages ago, but that one wasn’t working either. Also, using that one might get him into trouble, but Medical always operated on a slightly different rulebook anyway, right? They’d thrown out any chance of sticking to the regs practically before they left spacedock. If they took the ship back, any minor violations would probably be ignored, and if they lost the ship, they’d all have bigger problems to deal with.

She was halfway through inputting the code for a no-doubt futile eighth attempt when a new possibility suddenly occurred to her. “Enterprise, is this door broken?”

There was no answer, of course, but it was something else to try. There was another Jefferies tube that accessed Engineering on the other side. Far on the other side. She sent a silent apology to her knees and palms – Jefferies tubes weren’t exactly a comfortable way to get around. Starfleet should really look into fixing that. Would it kill them to put in some decent lighting?

It took three wrong turns and more banged shins than she cared to admit, but she finally made it around to the second access door. “Here goes nothing,” she said quietly. Her code was denied. M’Benga’s code was accepted.

The door opened. She could see two guards; neither of them seemed to have noticed her yet. She could also see the other access door, directly in their line of sight. “Lucky for me,” she murmured, and patted the wall next to her.

Two against one wasn’t great odds, but she had the element of surprise on her side. Along with a medical injector and a burning desire to not be in the Jefferies tubes any longer. Once the guards were out, she should be able to access the ship’s comm systems.

For the first time since the computer had sounded the intruder alert, she dared to think that things were looking up.


Chapter 7

Things were no longer looking up. Being held at phaser-point wasn’t how she’d hoped her excursion to Engineering would end. Although she supposed the silver lining was that she wouldn’t have to argue with the ship about letting her back through the Jefferies tubes. She had never been so grateful for turbolifts.

“Do you really think this is going to end well for you?” she asked, ignoring Spock’s quelling look. “I’m serious; what’s the goal here? Are you trying to start a war? Do you owe someone money?”

‘Captain Angel’ rolled her eyes. “Do you ever stop talking?” The question came with a phaser being waved threateningly in her direction. Classy.

“Not really, but I’ve never had any complaints.”

The phaser switched to being aimed steadily at her chest. “Aren’t you a civilian? Which means you don’t have any command codes, which means you’re expendable.”

Spock stepped in front of her. “None of the Enterprise’s crew is expendable.”

“Cute sentiment,” Angel said, twitching the phaser away. “Can’t relate, really.”

Everything they said made her want to punch them in the face. Since that seemed like a bad idea given the current circumstances, she tuned out the rest of the trip to the Bridge.

She wondered what had happened to the real Dr. Arden, and how long Angel had been impersonating them. Although she supposed in the absolute broadest sense, being a space pirate could potentially be classified as “an aid worker coordinating support for colonists outside of Federation space.”

It was just that the only people receiving aid were the pirates. Either way, it seemed like a real security flaw; La’an would probably create an entirely new set of protocols to keep it from happening again.

Everything snapped back into focus when they fired the ship’s phasers, and then things got weird.

“Call T’Pring,” Angel ordered.

That was strange, right? How did a space pirate even know T’Pring? How did she know T’Pring and Spock were engaged? She couldn’t imagine T’Pring doing a lot of gossiping with her fellow guards.

”Who are you?” T’Pring asked, and her gaze flicked from Spock to Christine before landing back on Angel.

It quickly became clear that Angel wasn’t getting their gossip from T’Pring, and also that they had no idea of Christine’s – involvement? Adjacency? Oh, that was awkward. For all of them, really, but mostly Angel.

“You have someone I want; I have someone you want. Let’s make a trade.”

T’Pring made the usual demurrals, Angel made the usual threats. Spock got pushed in front of the screen to be on display, presumably because seeing him threatened several steps closer was more menacing.

Angel waved off T’Pring’s words. “Whatever; I’m sending you the coordinates. You can either lose a prisoner, or you can lose a betrothed. Your choice.”

One of them was very confused about how Vulcan relationships worked. To be fair, especially after the conversation she’d had with Spock and T’Pring earlier, she wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t her. “She already said she’s not going to do it.”

Angel pointed at her, and then back at themself. “Civilian nurse. Space pirate. Which one of us has more experience threatening people’s lives to get what we want? Trust me; she’ll be there.”

“Vulcans are not amenable to threats,” Spock said. “Nor are they swayed by emotional arguments.”

Angel rolled their eyes. “Oh, Spock, you don’t really believe that, do you? I’ve been influencing you with emotional arguments all day, and you never had a clue.”

“On the contrary, your actions have raised suspicion since your initial message,” Spock corrected. “You are hardly the first person to attempt to take advantage of Starfleet’s humanitarian aims.”

“‘Attempt’? I think you’ll find I succeeded.” Angel gestured around the Bridge. “Here I am, in the captain’s chair. And there you are, under armed guard.”

Spock managed to convey an impressive amount of skepticism in a single glance around the Bridge. “Several hours ago, you were a respected guest directing a highly-trained and experienced crew on a mission of your choosing. Now you have nominal possession of a largely empty starship, and are attempting to manipulate a situation that is far beyond your control. I do not see how this could be considered a success.”

Angel laughed, and prowled towards him. “Oh, he’s got teeth! If you had me figured out so early, how come I was able to take over your ship, hmm? How come my sad little story had you so flustered?”

“Captain Pike believes in ‘giving people the benefit of the doubt.’ It is a philosophy I find admirable, though not always one I am able to emulate. In addition, it would be illogical to assume that you have been the only influence on my – level of distraction.”

Angel gave Spock a sharp look and circled around him, like a predator sizing up their prey. “Something else distracting the oh-so-resolute Vulcan? Now, what might that be?”

They were way up in Spock’s personal space – he drew back and it only made Angel lean closer. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hey! You might want to get that self-centeredness looked at by a professional,” she said. “Not everything is about you, you know.”

It did the job of transferring Angel’s attention to her, which was just as unpleasant as she’d expected, but at least gave Spock a break.

“Are you sure about that? Some of us are just naturally more drawn to being important than others, you know.” Angel looked her up and down. “Or maybe you wouldn’t.”

As if she hadn’t heard more creative and effective insults every day of med school. Contrary to popular belief, she was capable of ignoring that sort of thing when she needed to. Most things didn’t like playing with prey that didn’t react.

So she focused on Spock, who looked relieved when Angel moved away from both of them again, back to the captain’s chair.

“Set a course,” Angel said. “I guess we’ll see who’s right when we get there. Who’s right, and who dies.”


Chapter 8

It wasn’t until T’Pring showed up at the designated meeting point that she realized she hadn’t actually expected her to be there. Was that bad? Did she lack trust? She should work on that, probably.

Angel waved a lazy greeting. “T’Pring, good to see you! What an absolute non-surprise. To some of us, at least.”

T’Pring stayed silent, and Angel scoffed. “Let’s get this done. It’s exhausting being around Vulcans who only care about logic all the time. Show me proof that you have Xaverius.”

Spock tensed, but T’Pring didn’t shift her expression at all. “Move Spock to the transporter room first.”

And just why would I do that?” Angel switched to waving the hand that held a phaser. “I have the weapons and the big ship; you have no weapons and the little ship. If anyone’s going to be making demands, it’s me.”

“One of us must go first,” T’Pring said calmly. “And Vulcans do not lie. Whereas you have shown a significant tendency towards deception. It is logical for you to be the one to confirm their intentions first.”

She was bluffing, right? There was no way she had just – taken a prisoner and was planning to hand them over to a space pirate. Everyone knew the hostages never made it out of these situations anyway. And sure, they might call it a “criminal rehabilitation center” instead of a prison, but it wasn’t like no one would notice if one of them suddenly went missing.

If it was that easy, why didn’t Angel just go pick up the guy themselves? Why go through with the whole ship hijacking plan?

Spock caught her eyes and blinked once, slowly. Then he strode forward towards the view screen. What was that? Some sort of code? Was she supposed to do something? She kept herself from panicking by sheer force of will; she’d never been good at covert operations.

“T’Pring, you cannot do this,” Spock said, placing his back to Angel. “I do not believe they have any intention of honoring this deal. You must prioritize your own –” His words cut off when Angel shot him, and he crumpled to the deck.

“Spock!” Instinct had her running to his side, immediately checking his vitals.

“Stop. Talking.” Angel stood up and glared at the screen. “You’re lucky I had that set to stun. Next time I won’t. No more games.”

Spock had managed to avoid hitting his head on his way down, and the phaser shot had been to shoulder. He was lucky – head or spine shots could be dangerous even on stun. He’d be able to walk it off as long as he didn’t antagonize his way into getting killed.

She missed T’Pring’s response, but not Angel’s angry growl. “This is not a negotiation. You have ten minutes to deliver Xaverius.”

She crouched next to Spock, and it put them within arm’s reach of each other for the first time since they’d reached the Bridge. Out of sight of their guards, Spock wrapped his fingers around her wrist. Christine. I apologize for the intrusion. Please tap my hand if you can hear me.

Her eyes went wide. That was Spock, talking in her head. She tapped his hand.

T’Pring and I have formulated a plan. It should convince Angel we cannot be used as leverage against each other. Will you assist? Information flooded into her mind – not words, but a jumble of images and half-formed concepts, and a rush of sensation that flickered through feelings almost faster than she could identify them. Fear, apology, anger, curiosity, embarrassment, hope, concern, determination – she tapped Spock’s hand and the sensations became muted.

Please follow my lead.

She had to help Spock to his feet – he was able to stand without swaying, but she wasn’t going to turn down the excuse to hover. “T’Pring,” Spock said. “Before you do this, there is something I must tell you.”

”Is it necessary to speak of it at this time?”

“I believe so. T’Pring, I have feelings for Christine. Feelings I have not been entirely honest about.”

Spock squeezed her wrist, and she tried to look like she was hearing brand new information, not something they’d discussed less than a day ago. Spock had already gotten as close as he was going to get to lying, and that meant it was up to her to sell it.

Luckily, she had no problem with lying. “What he means is – Spock and I are having an affair. I’m sorry, T’Pring. We didn’t want you to find out this way.”

She could see T’Pring’s lips twitch. She was pretty sure it was actually a smile, but hopefully it would come across as anger. “I see,” T’Pring said.

“What?” Angel waved back and forth between them. “See what? This is obviously a ruse.”

Angel pointed a phaser in their direction, and there was a confused moment where they both tried to step in front of each other. “I could shoot both of you,” Angel said. “Stop moving.”

Somehow Spock managed to freeze in a way that put him between her and the phaser, which was as irritating as it was impressive. Angel stalked closer to the viewscreen. “T’Pring,” they said. “You really think Spock – Spock! – would go against the Vulcan precepts?”

Angel spun around to point at Spock. “Xaverius has told me all about you. You and your dedication to duty. A desperate ploy to prevent the Federation flagship from being taken? Sure. Falling in love with a Human and jilting your childhood betrothed? No way.”

Spock stiffened, and she tugged him around to face her. “Spock,” she said quietly.

And then he was kissing her, and all the muted sensations came crashing back. It swept over her like a wave, and for a moment she forgot Angel, forgot the pirates, forgot they were standing on the Bridge of the Enterprise. When Spock stepped back, she had to stop herself from following him.

The pirates were all very carefully not looking at any of them, and even Angel seemed stunned. “This cannot be happening.”

”The situation seems clear, T’Pring said calmly. ”Spock, I release you from our promise.”

“I am released,” Spock said, equally calmly. “We now move forward in a new alignment.”


Chapter 9

“You don’t really have a Vulcan prisoner stashed away on your ship, right?”

T’Pring turned towards her and raised an eyebrow. “Of course not.”

“Ha! I knew it. Related question: do you play poker? Because I feel like you’d be good at it.”

It was the first time the three of them had been in the same physical space together since they reversed the body-swap. The Enterprise crew was back onboard and in control of the ship. Angel might have escaped, but the other pirates were in Federation custody, and a team had been dispatched to search for the actual Dr. Arden.

They’d won, as much as they could ever say they’d won, but the mood in Spock’s quarters didn’t exactly feel like a celebration.

They were all nervous, she thought – there was a difference between talking over screens and talking in person, no matter how good the technology was. Probably even more so for Vulcans, who were largely cut off from mental feedback over a screen. She wondered what her brain was broadcasting to them, and if there was a way to get it to stop.

“I’m sorry for kissing Spock,” she said, rushing the words out and only stopping to consider them once they’d already been said. “I mean, not sorry that it happened, but sorry for how it happened.”

T’Pring frowned at Spock. “Did you not explain the plan clearly?”

Spock’s expression was a particularly Vulcan version of indignation. “I was recovering from a phaser blast, and time was limited. I summarized.” He turned to her. “I apologize for overstepping. It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

“You – what?” She looked back and forth between Spock and T’Pring. “I’m not talking about me, I’m talking about you two. We’ve barely talked about this, and then we jump into public role play with a side of life-threatening danger? And you were really both totally fine with that?”

Spock tucked his hands together behind his back and stared at the wall. “T’Pring is not fond of hijinks. As she was instrumental in devising the plan, I am confident it was as free of them as possible.”

“I concur,” T’Pring said. “If you are concerned about a lack of equivalence in our interactions, I suggest that you and I initiate a similar level of physical intimacy. Only if it is agreeable to you, of course.”

Kissing. T’Pring was talking about kissing. She narrowed her eyes and studied her expression. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

T’Pring blinked, and ignored the question. Spock said, “There is a degree of mental compatibility that is required for intimacy beyond that of friendship. When we kissed on the Bridge, it was clear to me that the two of us have that compatibility.”

There was a blush climbing up the back of his neck to his ears. “It would be a logical next step to assess the same information for you and T’Pring.”

She raised both eyebrows, to show she was serious, and because she still couldn’t manage one at a time. “And is that usually done by kissing, among Vulcans?”

“As long as the method is effective, the specifics are left to the discretion of the participants.” Spock was using the bland tone that usually meant he was – while not exactly lying – at least skewing the truth to meet a certain goal.

She barely resisted throwing her hands in the air. “This is not how I expected this conversation to go. But sure. Why not?”

T’Pring moved closer, and held up two fingers. “A Vulcan expression of affection,” she explained. “Roughly analogous to a Human kiss.”

“Roughly,” she repeated, and mirrored the gesture with her own fingers. “Okay. Now what?”

T’Pring touched their fingers together, and the room around them faded into unimportance. If Spock’s mental presence had been a flood, T’Pring’s was a cool morning mist. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before, but was still somehow familiar.

“I believe we can consider mental compatibility fully confirmed,” T’Pring said, as she shook herself back to awareness. “I sense that you still have reservations.”

Part of her wanted to reach out and experience the Human version of a kiss with T’Pring. Part of her wanted to try that finger thing with Spock. She did neither. “So many reservations. Reservations like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I am attempting to do so,” T’Pring said. She was obviously trying very hard not to just demand an answer. The logical thing to do would be to provide one. She sighed.

“Look, hot and intense is totally my type, but I don’t do relationships. I do fun, no strings attached sex with people who are looking for the same thing from me.”

She waved a hand back at herself in a ‘look at all this’ sort of gesture. “I’m a terrible person to be in a relationship with. I don’t commit; I get bored easily; I refuse to open up about myself –” She stopped. “Why are you both looking at me like that?”

“As has been previously established, we are already in a relationship,” Spock offered, almost gently.

T’Pring nodded. “You have shown yourself to be committed, interested, and open to sharing information about yourself in our friendship. If you are uninterested in exploring other potential aspects of our relationship, that is acceptable. However, I would suggest that it is logical to gather additional data before deciding on a course of action.”

She ran that through her mental ‘Vulcan-to-plain text’ translator. A few times. “Are you suggesting that we try dating?”

T’Pring raised an eyebrow. “I am suggesting that we may already be dating.”

Were they? T’Pring didn’t say things she didn’t mean. But neither did she. Well, she did, but she hadn’t this time.

She took a mental step backwards. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. But I am saying I need time to think about it. You’ve known each other since you were kids, right? Give me a chance to catch up.”

“Your terms are acceptable,” T’Pring said, and Spock nodded. He’d moved next to T’Pring at some point, and they looked at each other with an expression she had no trouble interpreting.

“Right,” she said, feeling amused despite her best efforts. They were absolutely going to jump each other as soon as she walked out the door. “I’m just going to leave you two alone now.”

She considered staying; she was fairly sure they’d let her, even welcome her presence. But if they were going to do this, she wanted to do it without any potential for regrets. They all deserved that.


Chapter 10

She flung out a hand to point at Spock as soon as he stepped into Sickbay. “Ah! We said no interrupting each other while we were working!”

“Unless it was important,” Spock agreed. There was the hint of a smile on his face when he added, “And you are not currently on duty.”

“Damn. Busted.” She patted the bio-bed she was sitting on. “Pull up a seat. What can I do for you?”

She hadn’t actually expected Spock to sit next to her, but he did, and close enough to raise eyebrows if anyone had seen them. She really needed to stop underestimating him.

“I wished to inform you that T’Pring has departed the Enterprise. She was not able to put off her return to work any longer.”

She nodded. “And you two are good? All –” She waved her hand in a circle. “-- repromised?”

“‘Good’ is an imprecise descriptor. But yes, we have – reaffirmed our bond.”

He was definitely making fun of her, and she was delighted. “Oh, is that what they’re calling it now? You get away with a lot, don’t you, pretending not to be aware of Human slang expressions.” She shook her finger at him. “I’m onto you, Mr. Spock. ”

He smiled again. It was small, but he didn’t try to hide it, and she immediately flushed and looked away. “Anyway, T’Pring had to leave right away; that’s too bad.”

“Yes. She has returned to Omicron Lyrae to investigate the situation from that end. I believe the name of the prisoner that Angel was attempting to reach was an alias, intended to conceal their true identity. There is only one person I can think of who would have been able to share the level of knowledge regarding myself and T’Pring that Angel alluded to, and his name is not Xaverius.”

“Okay,” she said. “Who is it?”

“My brother, Sybok.”

“You have a brother?” Her brain stuttered over the information. “T’Pring knows your brother?”

“He is a – resident, of the Ankeshtan K’Til Center where T’Pring is currently assigned. However, he is intended to be in secluded meditation, and to have only minimal contact with others. Or so I was told.”

“And now you’re not sure, because if that was true, how was he corresponding with his space pirate significant other?”

Spock nodded. “Precisely. T’Pring is planning to confront Sybok to request information. Specifically, whether he knew about the plan to bargain for his release, and if so, how he has been in communication with individuals outside of the Center.”

Spock hesitated, and then added, “I have advised against this course of action.”

She could just imagine how well (or not) that suggestion had been received. “Let me guess – she told you to mind your own business and let her do her job?”

Spock put his hands on his knees and sighed. “Not in those exact words. But yes.”

“Spock. First, she’s right. But second, it’s all right to disagree.” It was entirely possible – probable, even – that she should stay out of it. That didn’t mean she was going to.

“This may be overstepping, and feel free to tell me to keep my nose out of your business.” She paused. Spock didn’t take the opportunity to interrupt, so she kept going.

“Conflict is a natural part of all relationships. You don’t always have to agree with what the other person thinks or says. Working together to reach a compromise can ultimately be more satisfying than any one person getting their way.”

She wasn’t even looking at him, but she could tell Spock was raising his eyebrow. “I recall several conversations recently in which it was agreed that ‘our business’ and ‘your business’ have considerable overlap. Regardless, I welcome your perspective, as I always have. I admire your willingness to speak your mind.”

She laughed. “I feel like that’s probably a nice way of saying I overshare my opinions, but I’ll take it. As long as you know your perspective matters too.”

“I do. However, I am most comfortable sharing my opinions in a professional context.” Spock paused, and then added, “In the realm of interpersonal communications, the lack of agreed-upon rules and expectations can be – challenging. I am often unable to predict how my words or actions will be perceived by others. Particularly with regards to sensitive topics.”

“Like your brother?” she guessed. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I mean, you can, I’m always going to want to know more about what makes you tick. But it’s not a requirement.”

“I would prefer to be the one to share this particular information,” Spock said carefully. “As you will likely hear it from others regardless of my wishes.”

She remembered Angel’s mocking – “one of Vulcan’s favorite sons.” At the time, she’d dismissed it as hyperbole. “The price of fame?” she guessed.

“That is not the word I would choose.” Spock didn’t move, but she thought he was mentally bracing himself. “As the child of the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth and a Human mother, I have always experienced a certain amount of public scrutiny.”

His eyes flicked to hers, and then quickly away. “Most Vulcans who choose to pursue a relationship with a non-Vulcan meet them while off-world, and then do not return.”

She nodded. “There are plenty of planets where no one would look twice at a child with mixed heritage.”

“Indeed. However, Vulcan is not one of them. Nor is it one where non-comformity is encouraged.”

She nudged his ankle with the toe of her boot, trying to lighten the mood. “Spock, are you saying you were a rebel?”

“Not – as such,” Spock said. So, yes. She could imagine it, actually – little Spock forging his own path, and damn the haters. She bet he’d been an adorable child, and probably an absolute hellion.

“Sybok, perhaps, could accurately be described as a rebel,” Spock added without prompting. “He questioned the path of logic, the very foundation of Vulcan principles, and gained a degree of notoriety among certain groups. As a child, I was told he had turned his back on Vulcan society. As I grew older, I began to question whether it was society that had turned its back on him.”

“And you’ve never met him?”

“No. My father had a previous relationship before my mother; Sybok is a child of that union. He had already distanced himself from our family by the time I was born. I was told to avoid contact with him at all costs.”

She frowned. “I’m not gonna lie; that sounds incredibly suspicious. ‘At all costs,’ that’s pretty drastic wording for Vulcans, isn’t it?”

“It is. The scrutiny I spoke of previously was not only due to my unique heritage, but also to a comparison of my actions as compared to those of my siblings. It was not only a question of whether I was too human or too Vulcan, but also whether I was Vulcan in the correct way.”

“That sounds rough.” She hesitated, and then added, “Siblings, plural?”

“The situation is – complex. It is also classified,” Spock said.

“One of those, huh? Well, family is complicated. That’s a universal truth.”

Spock made a sound that was probably agreement. “I was given to understand that Sybok had entered the Ankeshtan K’Til Center voluntarily, and chosen to cut off all off-world contact. Our encounter with Angel would seem to contradict that information.”

He shook his head. “I am uncertain what T’Pring’s investigation may reveal. Sybok’s motivations are unclear; I do not understand what goal he could be pursuing with this course of action.”

“Hey.” She nudged their shoulders together. “We don’t have to figure out everything all at once. Let T’Pring talk to Sybok. We’ll go study a nebula, and we’ll all meet back for our usual calls when we’re done.”


Chapter 11

Studying nebulae was a great time for the astrophysicists, and a chance for everyone else to catch up on their educational credits. Or their sleep, in some cases. She swore she’d only shut her eyes for a second when she heard the door slide shut.

Chief Kyle’s voice cut through the quiet. “So, do you want to talk about it?”

And some people were using it to catch up on ship’s gossip. She dropped her head (back) on the table. “Do you think I would be hiding in the cultural geology lab if I wanted to talk about it?”

“I think you could be in your quarters if you were trying to avoid talking about it.”

She groaned without lifting her head. “I have a roommate.” And mild claustrophobia that was still flaring up after her jaunt through the Jefferies tubes, but no one needed to know that except her.

“Really? I thought everyone in Medical got their own room.”

“No, that’s only for enlisted crew.” she said into her arms. There was still a chance he’d go away again. “Civilians double up no matter what department. Why do you think I spend so much time in Sickbay?”

She heard the chair across from her get pulled out, and gave up on being left alone. “You can’t get an exemption from that? I mean, technically speaking, maybe you’re not enlisted now, but—“

He trailed off, and she looked up. “That’s classified.”

Chief Kyle shrugged. “It might be, if you ever told anyone about it.”

She stared at him. Should she be worried? Her list of worries felt too long already; she didn’t want to add to it. “How do you know that?”

“I keep saying, transporter techs know everything. Medical may have access to everyone’s files, but are you taking them apart at the subatomic level and then putting them back together?”

“I can’t say that we are, no.” Also, she was fairly sure that wasn’t how transporters worked.

Chief Kyle shrugged again. “We’ll, there you go. How else would I always know what’s going on?”

She shook her head. “I assumed you were trading gossip with Erica like everyone else. Did she put you up to this?”

“Not exactly. I arm wrestled her for it.”

“And you won?” She sat back in her chair and let the disbelief show clearly on her face. She’d never seen Erica lose at arm wrestling.

But he shook his head. “I lost. She got to talk to Spock.”

“And you — wanted to have this conversation with Spock?” That seemed even less likely than him winning the arm wrestling competition.

Chief Kyle made a face. “I’ve never been nerve-pinched by a Vulcan. It’s my last square.”

Of course it was. “Don’t tell me — the engineering team has their own extreme version of Enterprise bingo?”

Chief Kyle’s expression was pure innocence. “Their own what? I’m sure I don’t know anything about it, and if I did, you didn’t hear it from me.”

“And if I didn’t hear anything from anyone, would I also not hear about my invitation to the next engineering after-hours get-together?”

“The engineering team is always happy to share cross-training and team-building tips with all of our fellow crew members,” Chief Kyle said easily. “You can expect the announcement in the usual place.”

“Agreed,” she said quickly. “I accept your terms.”

He folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. “So, do you want to talk about it now?”

“Do we have to?” She knew it was just a matter of time. Gossip was the currency of Starfleet, after all, and that was never more true than when you were isolated on a spaceship and in the constant company of the same few hundred people for weeks on end. “I thought the command crew got an exemption.”

Chief Kyle pulled out a tablet and tapped the screen a few times. “That’s more of a guideline than a rule. And – off the record – it’s mostly because they keep breaking so many regulations. No one wants to lose a decent boss.”

He hesitated, and then added, “I don’t know how much you’ve picked up, or that they’ve told you, but this is the one of the only gossip-worthy things Spock has done in the past few years that isn’t likely to get him arrested.”

And then he went back to tapping at the tablet, like that was a normal and expected thing for someone to say. She was still trying to figure out a response when he said, “Also, you and T’Pring aren’t part of the command crew, so Spock’s getting looped into it through the two of you.”

“I have no idea what to say to that,” she offered finally. “Go ahead, ask your questions. I’m not promising I’ll be honest, though.”

The tablet clicked down on the table, and Chief Kyle laced his fingers together. “Did you kiss Spock on the Bridge? While T’Pring was watching?”

She nodded. There was probably security footage of that somewhere anyway. “Yes, and yes.”

“Did all three of you meet in Spock’s quarters afterwards?”

Probably also provable using security footage. “Yes,” she said.

“Are any of you pregnant?”

“What?” She wasn’t sure what her face was doing, but hopefully it was accurately expressing her doubt as to the quality of Chief Kyle’s questions. “No, why would anyone be pregnant?”

He waved it off. “Can Vulcans have long-distance telepathic sex?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Pass. I’m not answering that.” Although now she was curious. Could Vulcans have long-distance telepathic sex?

Chief Kyle looked intrigued. “Well. I’m going to put that down as a solid maybe, and offer a friendly reminder that Lieutenant Spock isn’t the only telepathic member of the crew. So you might want to make sure that it’s, ah, an encrypted channel. If you know what I mean.”

It startled a laugh out of her. “An encrypted channel. I admit, that’s a new one for me. Is that enough questions for you?”

“I didn’t think you’d let me get past the pregnancy one, honestly. Now I can tell you what everyone else is saying, if you want.”

She winced. “Do I want?”

“Forewarned is forearmed?”

She waved a hand at him. “Fair enough. Hit me.”

“You know people have been talking about you since you came onboard; that’s just – perks of being new and interesting. T’Pring is most peoples’ favorite right now; she’s got that mysterious aura going on.”

“And she’s super hot,” she added. “Just saying.”

Chief Kyle rolled his eyes. “That too. At this point, everyone has an opinion whatever’s going on with you and Spock and Spock’s girlfriend, but no one seems to agree on exactly what that is. Most people are rooting for the three of you to work it out, but there’s a surprisingly large group that thinks you and T’Pring are going to run off together without Spock.”

She considered it. “That seems unlikely.”

Chief Kyle’s hand was poised over the tablet. “Just out of curiosity, how unlikely?”

“Are there bets being taken on this question?”

The innocent expression was back. “I definitely do not know anything about any betting that might or might not be happening.”

“Sure,” she said. “Let’s say I believe you. I’ll upgrade my answer to ‘very unlikely,’ but that’s as much as you’re getting.”


Chapter 12

The doors opened with a quiet swish, only noticeable in the rare silence of an unoccupied Sickbay.

Not silent for long, though. Erica stopped in the doorway of her quasi-office. “Everything we talk about in here is covered by doctor-patient confidentiality, right?”

Well, that was always a fun conversation starter. “Sure, of course.” She pushed her screen aside.

Erica looked behind her, like she was checking to make sure no one was listening in. She stepped closer and put her hands on the desk. “Then I have a question. What the hell happened to us in that nebula?”

Ah. She’d been getting variations on that question since they’d all ‘woken up.’ “You’ve already heard the official report, I’m sure.” She could guess what she’d find, but she ran a scan anyway.

Erica scoffed. “Yeah, I’ve read it. ‘Unexplained energy fluctuation causing a five-hour blackout’? ‘No lingering effects’? That’s bullshit. I feel like I’m about to start climbing the walls. I almost yelled at Ensign Zier on my way down here – Ensign Zier! Who does that?”

She nodded. “Your dopamine levels are elevated – we’ve been seeing it throughout the crew. That can cause feelings of increased aggression and competitiveness, along with poor impulse control.”

“That’s one way to describe it. Can you do anything?”

“I can give you a blocker, but your dopamine is decreasing on its own back to a normal level. If you can handle it, we’re recommending that people let their bodies adjust on their own. Should be another 24 hours or so.”

She set the scanner down on her desk. “Do you remember anything?”

Erica wiggled her hand back and forth. “Flashes, maybe? And absolutely bonkers dreams. I wouldn’t think it was related, except the rest of the crew is in them too. You were there – or you were here, but it looked different.”

“Lots of plants?” That’s what she remembered too. Sort of.

Erica pointed at her. “Yes! And you had long hair. And Spock had long hair!”

She nodded. “I think we all experienced some sort of shared – vision? Altered reality? The sensor logs don’t show any activity, but the astrophysicists were going wild over that nebula’s high concentration of – and I quote – ‘weird particles,’ so who knows what we could have been exposed to. But we know time passed, and that whatever happened during that time physically influenced us beyond our dopamine levels, because you’re fine.”

“I’m not sure you’re remembering what I said when I walked in here,” Erica retorted. “I don’t feel fine.”

“But you don’t have a head wound.” She spun her screen around so Erica could see it. “The ship’s logs indicate that Captain Pike called for Medical right before the incident began, for a head injury that knocked you out. M’Benga headed for the Bridge, but there’s no record of him arriving. Five hours later, no injury.”

Erica studied the screen carefully. “So there’s a mysterious energy surge, a physical impact on the crew, and a five-hour sensor log blackout. Why hasn’t the Captain put everyone on figuring out what happened?”

Their eyes met, and Erica answered her own question. “Unless he already knows what happened.”

“Or someone else does, and he trusts what they told him.”

Erica tilted her head towards M’Benga’s office and raised her eyebrows. She shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe Hemmer or Spock? Theoretically, a force that influenced our minds might have a different effect on a being with telepathic abilities.”

“And is there a reason why you haven’t just asked him? Aren’t you and Spock – you know?”

She rolled her eyes. “There is no ‘you know’ going on.” She didn’t think. She was getting her memories back faster and more completely than most of the crew who’d visited Medical, and there was a suspiciously large chunk of them missing, right around when she and Spock had been alone in the alternate version of Sickbay.

“Besides,” she added. “I think Spock is avoiding me.”

Erica leaned in closer. “Did something happen? Are you going to fight T’Pring over him? Are they going to fight each other over you?”

“No one is going to fight each other,” she said firmly, hoping she was right. “If that changes, I promise I will let you know, and give you the chance to say ‘I told you so.’”

“Thank you.” Erica gave a satisfied nod. “So what about the rest of us? Will we eventually remember more?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, and then shook her head. “I wish I did, but – the brain is mysterious. Even with centuries of research, we still don’t really know how it works. You might remember everything; you might forget everything.”

“So we’re just going to blame the weird particles and pretend it didn’t happen?”

That had pretty much been her plan, until she realized Spock was avoiding her. But he wasn’t avoiding anyone else, so – “Yes? Sometimes you have to just accept the mystery. More things in heaven and earth, and all that.”

Erica frowned. “What about Spock?”

“What about him?”

“Well, you can let it go and hope he does the same, or –”

Erica trailed off, and she was willing to play along. Erica’s advice tended to range from offbeat to truly weird, but occasionally she came up with a surprisingly insightful take on things. “Or what?”

“Or you remember that you’re extremely charming, and you can track him down when we’re resupplying at MacNair Starbase and – you know, entice the information out of him.”

This wasn’t one of those times, then. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do.”

“That sounds exactly like something you would do,” Erica countered. “I never thought you’d be doing it with Lieutenant Spock, but the heart wants what the heart wants.”


Chapter 13

Whether or not Erica’s plan would have worked never got a chance to be put to the test, because Spock was exceptionally good at not being found. She hadn’t realized how frequently they’d been running into each other until they suddenly weren’t. And T’Pring was still in a communications blackout because of the security protocols around visiting Sybok – it left her on her own with the worries chasing themselves around her brain.

She volunteered for the recovery mission to the USS Peregrine without a second thought. She’d done a secondary in field medicine, and at that point they’d still been hoping – expecting, even – to find survivors.

“This isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever lived through.” If she kept repeating it to herself, she might start to believe it. It wasn’t really working; she could feel the panic clouding her thoughts. “Not the worst thing you’ve ever lived through.”

She would never admit that a part of her was hoping Spock would burst through the door with a rescue team right behind him. His presence on the mission had been a surprise, but they were both professionals. They’d slipped back into their usual give and take without more than a minor hesitation – she personally thought Spock was acting unusually grumpy, but that might just be the ice planet.

Or, you know, the threat of being eaten by a Gorn. It wasn’t like there wasn’t an entire array of things to be upset about.

“Scan for lifesigns.”

It wasn’t Spock, but La’an who found her first, and she had no patience for panic. She fumbled her way through an explanation anyway, and La’an nodded. “Take this. Watch the ceilings; shoot anything that moves.”

She took the gun, and tried not to think about how the shaking in her hands was going to make it hard to aim, let alone shoot. They made it about ten steps down the corridor before La’an stopped and turned, and got right up in her space.

“Hey,” she said firmly. “You’re not going to die here.”

It was maybe supposed to be comforting, but she shook her head. “You can’t know that.”

“I can.” La’an grabbed her vest and met her eyes without any hesitation. “You know me. Am I going to let a Gorn kill me, after everything?”

Part of her brain shrieked at her that they were definitely all going to die, but – she did know La’an. If anyone could do it, it would be her. “No.”

“Exactly. And it’s my job to protect you, so if I’m not going to die, you’re not going to die. Got it?”

It was more reassuring than it had any right to be. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.” She readjusted her grip on the weapon and tried to breathe normally.

“Good. You stick with me, you stay sharp, we stay alive.”

When they found Oriana, La’an pointed at her, and then the girl. “You – you protect her. You – no more running off, okay? We’re a team now.”

It was classic shock management – give the person something else to focus on. “I know what you’re doing,” she said.

La’an looked at her assessingly. “Is it working?”

She thought about it. It might be. “I’ll let you know.”

Focusing on Oriana got her through the planning session, and focusing on La’an got her through most of – whatever La’an was doing to the vents to make the plan work. La’an sat back on her heels when she was done, and nodded. “It will hold.”

“We’re done?” she asked.

La’an nodded again. But instead of standing up, she said, “The Gorn hatchling. Hemmer called it a genetic chameleon. That’s basically what you do, right, with your disguises? Could you find a way to track them anyway?”

Her voice was calm – maybe too calm. Their plan shouldn’t require any method of tracking the Gorn other than being able to see and hear them.

It was an interesting question, though. “That’s – not how epigenetics works at all, no. But maybe? With a lab, and a few hours studying one of them with a DNA sequencer?” There was a twist in her gut, and she had to force herself to say, “Why?”

La’an hesitated. “I’m not sure. Maybe nothing. Maybe something. But if we can’t pick up their biosigns on our scans, even when they’re inside us? That’s a massive security risk.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” she objected. “We had no baseline scans on Buckley; we don’t even know what species he was.”

“Right. And none of us have been scanned since the hatchlings emerged.”

She froze. There was a ringing in her ears, and she could barely hear her own voice when she said, “La’an. Do we need to be?”

La’ans expression told her everything she needed to know. She swallowed hard. “All of us?”

“Hemmer,” La’an said. “The venom excretion. It’s how the Gorn reproduce. But not every species is compatible with their physiology.”

Somehow she didn’t think the alternative would be good news. “So, if Hemmer is compatible, the Gorn hatchlings will kill him on the way out, and we’ll be back where we started. And if he isn’t compatible..”

“Then they all die,” La’an confirmed. “Host and hatchlings.”

She shook her head. There had to be another option. “How long do we have?”

“I don’t know. Weeks, if we’re lucky. Maybe hours, if we’re not.”

She let her thoughts run out loud, trying to force them into a solution. “There has to be a way to stop the process somehow, and extract them. They’re acting as a sort of parasite, right? Using the host body to promote rapid development until they can survive on their own. Buckley didn’t show physical symptoms at first; that could indicate – progression, a maturity stage, maybe?”

It wasn’t enough, and she shook her head again. “We don’t have enough information. We need more time.”

“I hope we get it,” La’an replied.

They almost didn’t. Hemmer emerged from the confrontation with the final Gorn ready to sacrifice himself to save the rest of them. Nyota was in tears. Spock was practically radiating rage. She slammed her hand against the computer terminal. “Computer, emergency medical transport, all non-human lifesigns in Hangar Bay One. Do not rematerialize.”

”Immediate rematerialization is recommended per emergency medical transport protocol,” the computer replied.

“Medical override,” she said, and she could hear M’Benga saying it at the same time.

”Medical override accepted.”

“How does that help us?” Sam asked.

“It doesn’t,” she said. “Not yet. But it buys us some time to figure it out.”


Chapter 14

“Trouble sleeping?”

She startled at the words, but didn’t bother answering the question. Why else would anyone be sitting in an empty rec room in the middle of what was supposed to be their sleep cycle? “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I do that on purpose,” La’an said easily. “Makes it easier to catch troublemakers.”

“I can never tell when you’re joking.”

“That’s easy; I never joke.” La’an sat down next to her and held out a handful of snacks. “Protein bar?”

She pointed at her without looking. “And that’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

La’an hummed what could have been an agreement, and they sat in silence for a while. La’an unwrapped a bar and ate it slowly, before stashing the wrapper away in some hidden pocket. Finally, she said, “You did better than I expected.”

“Thanks.” She glanced at La’an, and then back at her hands. “I think.”

“I’m serious. I’ve seen a lot of people face death; you did fine. That was quick thinking, with Hemmer.”

They’d gotten lucky. The transporter buffer essentially held things in stasis – once the Enterprise had returned, they’d been able to use Hemmer’s stored bio pattern to separate him from the Gorn parasites. It had been a painstakingly delicate process, and even once it was done, the damage the Gorn had done remained.

“He’s still in a medically induced coma,” she said. “Regrowing organs is touchy under the best of circumstances, which this definitely is not.”

La’an gave her a skeptical look. “I thought I was supposed to be the pessimistic one. He’s alive, we’re alive. You take the victories when you can, because that could change for any of us at any time. ”

She couldn’t help smiling. “I’m pretty sure that’s why people think you’re the pessimistic one. Are you checking up on me?”

“Passing by, checking up – is there one you would prefer?”

She made a show of looking around the empty room. “Well, I’m pretty busy here, so…”

La’an laughed. “Sorry to interrupt, then.” She paused, and then added, “Is it nightmares? Because as much as I hate to say it, the headshrinkers have actually been helpful with those.”

She made a face. “It’s called Starfleet Recovery Assistance, and I know you know that. And no. Not exactly.”

“Not sleeping at all, then? Been there.”

“I’ve slept,” she said. “I just – wake up again after a few hours. I’m not tired; M’Benga confirmed that my body isn’t showing any of the usual signs of sleep deprivation. It’s like I just – suddenly need less rest, and believe me, I know how crazy that sounds.”

La’an nodded. “Is it because of Lieutenant Spock?”

“What?” Maybe she was more tired than she thought, because she wasn’t following.

La’an looked surprised by her surprise. “You and Spock? And Spock’s girlfriend? I didn’t think you were trying to keep it a secret. I thought the three of you had worked things out, but if you didn’t and you’re awake in the middle of the night because of that, I don't have any useful advice, sorry.”

She ignored the questions, because she didn’t know the answers herself. Was it a secret? Had they worked it out? “I thought you preferred to stay out of crew relationships entirely,” she said instead.

“I stay out of relationships I might have to be objective about, as a security officer,” La’an clarified. “But you’re a civilian and he’s an ambassador’s kid, and that sort of thing gets out of my jurisdiction very quickly.”

La’an shrugged. “Besides, as of our arrival at Station K7, I’m officially off-duty. The Captain cleared it today.”

“You’re leaving? You found a lead on Oriana’s family?”

“Maybe. It could be a lead. It could be chasing a dead end – two years is a long time, especially out here.”

She shook her head. “Not that long. Not when it’s family. Someone was out there to report her missing; there’s a good chance they’re still looking.”

La’an looked uncomfortable. “Maybe,” she said again. “I just – I don’t want to give her false hope.”

“What’s false about it? Whether you find her people or not, she’ll know that someone cares enough to try.” La’an was giving her a blank look, so she said, “You, La’an. I’m talking about you. She already knows bad things can happen for no reason. You get to show her that good things can too.”

She leaned closer, but stopped as soon as she had La’an’s attention. “Whether any story has a happy ending depends very much on when you stop telling it. You found a lead – good ending. Maybe it turns out to be nothing – bad ending. Maybe you go on to find something even better – good ending. Maybe you get eaten by a giant space amoeba on your way back – bad ending. You’re at a happy point right now; you should enjoy it.”

She shook her finger at La’an’s doubting expression. “Isn’t that what you were just telling me to do – take the victories where you can?”

“I don’t think it’s allowed for you to use my own words against me,” La’an said. “New rule.” Then she frowned. “Also, how can you be so insightful about my life and so hopeless about your own?”

She couldn’t even get upset about it, because she was fairly sure La’an was right. “It’s the curse of the medical profession,” she said. “Better at diagnosis than self-reflection.”

La’an narrowed her eyes, and then sighed. “All right, tell me about it.”

And really, why not? It wasn’t like thinking about it on her own had gotten her very far. “It’s complicated,” she warned.

“I assume that’s an understatement, but I’ll accept it,” La’an answered.

She tried to figure out where to start. “We’ve talked? I like them; they say they like me, but sometimes I don’t know if we’re even using those words the same way.”

That was always the question, right? Before any of the other complicating factors, there had to be some level of trust that they were at least all having the same conversation. “Every time I think I know what’s going on with Spock and T’Pring, something happens that makes me realize I’ve got no idea. They’ve got all this – shared context, a history together. They’ve been reaching out, but I don’t know if I can get to where they are.”

La’an frowned, and waved her words aside. “Look, forget what you think is happening. What do you want to be happening? What’s your best case scenario here?”

“Not winding up hating each other?”

“Well, here’s my advice, then. Aim higher,” La’an said. “You’re all smart people who don’t want this to end terribly. You can do better than not hating each other.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I mean, yes, you’re right, we should be able to do better than that. But best case scenario? I have no idea.”

La’an shrugged. “Then that’s probably the next thing you should figure out. Hard to know if you’re headed in the right direction if you don’t know where you’re going.”

Like all good advice, it was easier said than done, but she supposed La’an wasn’t one for easy solutions. “Thanks,” she said. “And here you were the one saying you didn’t have any useful advice.”

“Don’t get used to it,” La’an said. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

“No one will hear it from me,” she promised. “And if anyone asks, I still consider you the scariest person on this ship except for Commander Chin-Riley.”

La’an looked delighted. “You know, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”


Chapter 15

Certain people tended to avoid Sickbay unless it was absolutely necessary, and Nyota Uhura was one of them. She hadn’t even been sneaking in to see Hemmer, which several of his Engineering minions had been doing. They seemed to be enjoying the subterfuge, so she hadn’t bothered telling them they were welcome anytime.

So Nyota wasn’t the absolute last person she would have expected to see, but definitely not the first either.

“Am I interrupting?”

She waved a hand. “No, no, come in. What can I do for you?”

Nyota hesitated. “It’s a little bit of a strange question.”

“Nyota, I’m a nurse.” She spread her hands out to take in the expanse of Sickbay. “On the Enterprise. I guarantee you I’ve heard weirder.”

“It’s not a medical question.”

“Okay, now you’re just making it more interesting. Hit me.”

People came to Sickbay with all kinds of questions, medical and otherwise. People didn’t usually come to Sickbay to share their suspicions about potential covert missions and illegal technology, but there was a first time for everything.

“I’ve been working on accessing more of the Peregrine crew’s logs,” Nyota said. “They’re unusually corrupted, even accounting for the damage the ship took. But the more I looked, the more it felt like something was missing.”

“I’m with you so far.” She’d poked at the logs too, trying to figure out if there was anything their Medical staff had figured out that the Enterprise crew might have missed.

“Okay, so the Peregrine is a Sombra-class ship, right? It’s a less common configuration, but designed with essentially the same parts as a Constitution-class ship like Enterprise. Except that it’s not.”

“It’s not?”

“The parts aren’t the same. And it hasn’t had any of the mandatory retrofitting that the rest of the fleet did, with the additional safety measures on transporters and engines. Why not?”

It sounded like a rhetorical question, but Nyota paused, so she guessed, “They were busy? Couldn’t take time away from their assignment?”

Nyota pointed at her. “That would make sense, except that they weren’t filing any reports.”

That brought her up short. It was Starfleet; everyone filed reports. She was a civilian crew member, and she still had to file reports. But Nyota wasn’t done. “So I looked them up, and the only available information on their mission is that they were ‘gathering data in uncharted sectors.’ That’s a direct quote.”

“That’s – very vague.” It was suspicious as hell, but the reality of any bureaucracy was that the answer to any mystery was always more likely to be incompetence than malicious intent.

“If they were gathering data, why weren’t they sending it back?” Nyota asked. “And if they were doing it in uncharted sectors, why did they wind up here, well within charted space? Something doesn’t fit. I would have gone to Lieutenant Noonien-Singh, but–”

But she’d left the ship, probably headed right back towards whatever the Peregrine had been involved in. “And I was your second choice?”

Nyota shrugged. “She trusts you. Everyone else thinks I’m just chasing shadows, trying to find some sort of meaning in what happened.”

She made sure to catch her eyes. “Are you?”

“Maybe,” Nyota acknowledged. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not right.”

That was true. She still wasn’t in a position to actually do anything about it, though. “Look, I appreciate your trust, and I’m honored by it. But I’m going to channel La’an here for a minute, and tell you exactly what I think she would say in this situation.”

“I need to tell the captain?” Nyota guessed.

She nodded. “You need to tell the captain. And I will back you 100% and stand next to you when you do it, if you want me to, but he needs to know.”

“Thanks. I can do it. I think I just needed someone I knew would listen first, you know?”

“I do. Any time. You know where to find me.”

Nyota paused in the doorway. “There’s one more thing. You’re friends with Lieutenant Spock, right? Is he – doing all right?”

She narrowed her eyes. Nyota wasn’t usually involved with gossip. Possibly because Communications knew everything first anyway. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t want to overstep.”

“No, please, feel free.” She waved a hand in invitation. “This is Sickbay, we step everywhere here.”

Nyota made a face, but she seemed more relaxed, and she’d take that as a win. “It’s just, some of the crew has been noticing that he seems – stressed? He’s been in the gym a lot. There’s, ah – there’s an alert set up.”

She liked to think she was pretty in touch with what the crew were doing, but she had no idea what Nyota was talking about. “An alert for what?”

“Well, now it’s used to warn everyone to stay away from the gym whenever he’s in there.”

Oh, she was coming back to that – ‘now,’ implying it had been used for something else in the past. “And they want to avoid him because…?”

Nyota looked a little bit like she wished she’d never brought it up, so she added, “Consider this off-the-record speculation. Besides, anything you say in Sickbay is covered under doctor-patient confidentiality regs.”

“Off the record?” Nyota said. “They’re scared of him. Lieutenant Spock has always been –”

“Intense?” she offered.

“Intimidating. But these last few days, it’s different. He seems – driven, maybe? Like he’s angry, but he’s also angry about being angry, if that makes sense.”

“It does.” She didn’t know what to do about it, but she knew the feeling. Losing people was always the worst part of serving. Spock had been on edge, but the whole crew was tense; it was hard to call out a Vulcan for being jumpy when Medical was busy patching people up after fistfights.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said, and Nyota looked relieved. “Any chance he’s in the gym right now?”


Chapter 16

He was. She watched him from the doorway long enough to know Nyota hadn’t been exaggerating. He knew she was there; it would have been impossible to miss even if the gym hadn’t been deserted. But he kept moving, flowing from one strike to the next until he finally brought the weapon down with a slam and went still.

Whether the practice had come to a natural conclusion, or he was simply unwilling to continue it in her presence was still up in the air. She stepped forward anyway.

“So that’s a lirpa, huh?”

“Please leave,” Spock said. His grip on the lirpa was white-knuckled. “I wish to be left alone.”

“Yeah, I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.” She stopped at the edge of the mats. “And the door log says you’ve been alone for a while now, so how about you take a break and tell me what’s going on?”

“I do not require a break at this time. And nothing is going on.”

“Avoiding the truth is illogical,” she countered.

“Avoiding a discussion that will not benefit the situation is perfectly logical.”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. So he knew he was being difficult; that was a good sign. Hopefully. “Deciding a discussion will be of no benefit without full knowledge of what it could contain is not logical.”

“One does not need full knowledge to extrapolate the most probable outcomes. Humans tend to be – predictable.”

“Well, you’ve got me there.” She held up her hands like she was surrendering, and then put them on her hips to stare him down. “I assume that means you can also predict that I’m not going to just leave. Don’t make me pull rank on you, Spock.”

His eyes flicked to hers, and then away again. “You are a civilian; you do not outrank me.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’m a nurse; I outrank everyone. A crew member came to me with a reasonable medical concern about a senior officer, which I am investigating. I want to have this conversation with you as a friend, but if I have to have it as a medical professional instead, I will.”

Spock closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “During the mission to the USS Peregrine, it became necessary to – express my anger in a manner that I am unused to experiencing.”

She waited, and he eventually kept going. “Vulcans feel emotions deeply, and use logic to keep ourselves separate from them. There is a – technique, to allow those emotions back into our direct awareness.”

“A technique,” she repeated.

“It is theoretical,” Spock said. “Was theoretical,” he immediately corrected. “I found it to be more than adequate under the circumstances.”

“The circumstances being we were all about to be killed and you had to antagonize a Gorn into attacking you,” she said. “Just to clarify.”

Spock flinched, and for the first time she felt a genuine spike of alarm. Spock never flinched. “Yes,” he said curtly.

“And you did,” she said carefully. “It worked, and we survived.”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve let something out, and I can’t contain it. I must regain control.”

She knew she was on shaky ground, but she tried anyway. “Emotions don’t always need to be locked away. They can be a source of strength.”

Spock clenched his jaw. “I do not expect you to understand. I must return to training.”

She reached for him, and he stepped back. “Training?” she said. “You’ve been in here for hours every day. Even you have limits, Spock. How long can you keep going like this?”

It was the wrong thing to say. He took another step away and straightened into perfect Starfleet parade rest. His gaze stayed locked on the wall behind her. “I am fully capable of performing my duties as an officer of this ship.”

“Agree to disagree,” she muttered.

Spock looked at her, and she already knew she wasn’t going to like whatever he was planning to say. “You have repeatedly encouraged me to acknowledge the impact of my Human heritage. Humans are often irrational, illogical, and driven by emotion. Yet they are allowed to continue in their assigned roles despite these flaws, and – one would presume – without your intervention.”

He raised one eyebrow. “I am capable of carrying out our current mission as assigned. Do you disagree? As a medical professional?”

She bit back her first reply. She might not be able to be objective, but she could at least be practical.

They were supposed to be delivering supplies and equipment to one of Starfleet’s outposts along the Neutral Zone. If everything went as planned, Spock would attend a meeting with the outpost’s commanding officer, maybe do a little consulting on any science questions their team wanted to ask him, and head back to the Enterprise. Easy. Then again, when did anything go as planned?

Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t disagree. Your assertion is – incomplete, but medically accurate to the best of my knowledge.”

He nodded once, and started to turn away. “Spock,” she said. “I’m not going to bench you over this, and you’re not required to talk to me about it. Will you talk to someone, though? T’Pring, at least?”

“We are at the edge of Federation space. Any message to T’Pring would take several days to reach her, and equally long to receive a reply.”

“Are you saying you think you’re going to have this resolved in less than four days?” Spock was silent. Yeah, that was about what she’d been expecting. “Do I have your permission to talk to her about it?”

“Do you require it?”

It was a gray area. If they were talking as friends, medical confidentiality didn’t apply, but revealing a friend’s condition to their fiance wasn’t exactly gold star behavior. If they were talking as patient and nurse, T’Pring was Spock’s emergency contact, but not denying permission to share information wasn’t the same as granting it.

“I’d prefer to have it,” she said. “If it were her struggling with something –”

“It would not be,” Spock said, with a hint of his usual humor. “But I take your point. It is logical for her to be informed.”


Chapter 17

“I need help.”

M’Benga looked up. “Well, I’m not going to argue with that, but you’ll have to be more specific if you want me to be useful.”

She rolled her eyes as she dropped into the chair across from him. “Remind me why I like you, again?”

“Because I’m extremely likable? Also, because if we ever became enemies we’d have enough information to ruin each other's lives instantly.”

“That sounds right. The mutually assured destruction model of friendship.” She put her hands on the table. “It’s about Spock.”

M’Benga raised his eyebrows and mirrored her. “I assumed so, yes.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. “You studied Vulcan medicine. Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

There was a long pause. Finally, M’Benga said, “What makes you think something’s wrong with him?”

She stared at him. “Are you joking? You cannot possibly think he’s acting normally. He’s jumpy as hell, he’s scared half the crew away from the gym – if he was human, I’d say he was one bad day away from an emotional breakdown.”

M’Benga sighed. “He isn’t, though. Spock is unique in every way that matters to medical science – physiologically, psychologically, right down to his genetic structure. He is the first Vulcan-Human hybrid to be raised on Vulcan, following the Vulcan mental disciplines. To be honest, we have no idea what’s normal for him, or how it will change over time.”

“Is there any chance that whatever happened in the nebula is still affecting him?” she asked, and M’Benga startled.

“The nebula? What makes you ask about that?”

She shrugged. “That’s when he first started acting noticeably different. Not in exactly the same way as now, but it’s a data point we can’t account for.” She gave him a pointed look. She was relatively sure he knew more about what had happened in the nebula than anyone else, but so far he hadn’t been inclined to share.

“The only measurable effect of the nebula was a temporary increase in dopamine levels,” M’Benga said calmly, ignoring her look completely. “Nothing that could continue to have an effect at this point.”

“Do you have a better suggestion?” She knew she was grasping at straws. She’d left multiple messages for T’Pring, but she wasn’t even sure if she’d been released from communications blackout. Between that and the relay lag, she had no idea when T’Pring would actually see the messages, let alone be able to return them.

M’Benga waved a hand back and forth. “Vulcans who live among other Vulcans typically experience a consistent low level of telepathic feedback. Not only from shared bonds with family and close friends, but simply from the presence of other telepaths,” he said.

“Spock and Hemmer both have a certain degree of telepathic abilities, and they have previously confirmed that they shared a similar awareness of each other. An awareness that remains cut off at this stage of Hemmer’s recovery. It’s not impossible for that to be causing some disruption to Spock’s perception.”

M’Benga had a way of using a lot of extra words to make his statements sound more reasonable, and it took her a few seconds to sift through them all. “You’re saying maybe he’s distracted because his friend’s brain isn’t pinging him every day? Does that sound like Spock?”

She didn’t think she managed to keep the disbelief out of her tone, and M’Benga gave a tiny shrug. “No. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t a possibility.” He spread his hands apart. “Christine. I know you want to help. But you’ve scanned him; I’ve scanned him. Medically speaking, there’s nothing wrong with him.”

She slapped her hand down on the table. “The scans are lying, Joseph. He’s getting worse.”

“Again, I’m not going to argue with you. In fact, I agree. But we have no direction to base our help on. We need more information. And you have somewhere else to be right now.”

It was true. She started to speak, and M’Benga held up a hand. “Yes, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

It was all they could do. She headed over to the outpost with their delivery of medical supplies, prepared for a long day of what Starfleet called “outreach,” and everyone else called “save it” cases.

Medical confidentiality was more theoretical than absolute in a place as small as Outpost 4, and there were certain things people didn’t want to share with a doctor they knew they were going to see a dozen times a day, every day. “Save it for the starship” was a pretty common strategy – it meant she saw a lot of rashes in unusual places, but it could be interesting work. People were endlessly creative, after all, even – or especially – when it came to their own health.

She’d only been there a few hours when the background hum of chatter took on a new level of intensity. The command team meeting had ended abruptly, and no one knew why. The USS Cayuga had returned a week ahead of schedule. Two starships were parked at their doorstep and suddenly weren’t talking to anyone, even each other.

People started seeking her out not for medical advice, but with questions about what was going on. Was it the Romulans? Was it Starfleet? Did Captain Pike have a feud with the station commander? Did she know?

She did not know, but she intended to find out.


Chapter 18

”Incoming call.”

She almost didn’t hear the alert over the chaos of thoughts tumbling over each other in her brain. It was a relief to let them all wash out to background noise when the call connected.

“T’Pring! How did you manage to get a live connection out here?”

T’Pring greeted her with the ta’al, and she returned it automatically. ”I am using a dedicated Vulcan diplomatic subspace channel. Your message indicated it was a matter of some urgency.”

“It is. I mean, I’d much rather be wrong and have this just be an embarrassing story to tell in the future, but it’s probably urgent.”

T’Pring raised an eyebrow. ”I have not found you to be someone who would raise an alarm without just cause. In addition, my bond with Spock has been – unsettled, recently. I had been planning to contact you to inquire about it.”

She’d already explained as much as she could in her messages, but they’d been disjointed at best. So she went back through a summary of everything that had happened since they’d last seen each other, hopefully in a more organized timeline – what had happened, and how Spock had reacted at each point. How she had reacted to his reactions, and her growing sense that something was seriously wrong.

Through it all, T’Pring listened in silence.

Finally, she wrapped up with, “We’re at Outpost 4 now, near the Neutral Zone. Spock was part of an introductory meeting scheduled, but it was cut short.”

T’Pring frowned. ”By Spock?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Scuttlebut on the outpost was that Captain Pike walked out first, then Commander Chin-Riley. Spock stayed for a short while after that to offer apologies, but none of them have been back since then.” Everyone she’d talked to on the outpost had been thrilled by the drama of it all.

”Where is Spock now?” T’Pring asked.

“He’s in his quarters, according to the computer. He’s not exactly taking my calls at this point.”

”I am attempting to reach him.”

Even over the screen, she could hear the ‘connection declined’ sound. Two times. Three times. And then a new sound. T’Pring frowned harder. ”He has blocked this account.”

“I’m so sorry, T’Pring. I had hoped you would have better luck than I did.” She found that it was true – it wasn’t a question of which one of them could reach Spock, but of what they could do together.

”It is illogical to attribute any element of this situation to luck.”

She was finally starting to understand this particularly Vulcan form of bickering, but it had already been a long day, and her brain went blank on a comeback. “That’s me,” she said instead. “So, any ideas?”

”This – missing time, during the incident with the nebula. Did the two of you have sex?”

“What? No!” Someday, she might also start to understand T’Pring’s leaps of logic, and these things wouldn’t blindside her quite so much. That day wasn’t today.

”You said you lacked complete recall of the events. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” T’Pring looked skeptical, so she added, “This may or may not come as a surprise to you, but it’s not exactly the first time a Starfleet vessel has encountered an unknown phenomenon that causes widespread memory loss. There’s a standard response policy that includes full medical scans for all crew members. If anyone had sex during the incident, we would know about it.”

In fact, no one had – not a single person on the Enterprise during the five hours in question. It was a statistical improbability, but they’d largely set it aside as one of those things destined to remain unexplained.

“Spock and I have not had sex,” she repeated. Unable to resist adding the tiniest bit of levity to the conversation, she added, “And I’ll be honest, if we ever did, I’d really hope he wouldn’t react by avoiding me afterwards. It’s not exactly flattering, you know?”

”I will keep that in mind,” T’Pring said, and her voice was completely serious. ”There is one option that would account for the majority of the symptoms you have identified. It is possible that Spock is experiencing an emotional imbalance,” T’Pring said.

That much seemed obvious, but the way T’Pring said it – like ‘emotional imbalance’ should have capital letters, or some additional meaning she wasn’t grasping – made her pause. “Meaning?”

”Based on the information you have provided, he is attempting to manage it himself through a combination of meditation and exertion. As that has thus far proven unsuccessful, it has likely progressed too far for such techniques to be sufficient.”

She nodded. “Okay, so what are the other options?”

T’Pring hesitated. ”This is considered private information among Vulcans. It is – not something we share with outsiders.”

She could feel her patience slipping. “Right, I get that. But you’re going to share it with me anyway, because Spock’s ignoring you and I’m currently your best option? Or should I go get M’Benga, who’s got the special Vulcan seal of approval?”

”I am going to share it with you because I do not consider you an outsider,” T’Pring corrected. ”I was attempting to tactfully indicate a preference that this information not be included in any official reports you may be required to make.”

Well, that sure showed her. “T’Pring, I’m sorry – I let the situation get into my head. Of course I wouldn’t share anything you weren’t willing to share. Medical confidentiality is fully in effect.”

T’Pring nodded. “Emotional imbalance is not uncommon among Vulcans who pursue high-intensity roles. It is particularly prevalent in those who spend greater than fifty percent of their time in space, for reasons still being researched. All Vulcan vessels include a mind healer in the crew specifically to identify and treat any cases.”

For the first time in the call, T’Pring looked visibly concerned. ”It is – possible that Spock was not made aware of this before his departure from Vulcan for Starfleet Academy.”

“What?” She immediately waved the question off. “Never mind; we don’t need to get into that now.” The important thing was what to do next, not what had happened in the past. “Is there anything that can be done using the resources on the Enterprise? Or to work with someone long distance?”

“Not at this stage. Once meditation becomes insufficient, Spock will likely attempt to enter a healing trance. It will extend his ability to maintain emotional control. However, without assistance, there is a high probability that he will be unable to end the trance himself and return to consciousness.”

That sounded – bad. “How high of a probability?”

”It has a theoretical 1.72 percent chance of success. To date, every recorded case that has reached that stage has ended with the patient’s death.”

“Are you saying he’s going to will himself into a coma and then die?”

”A healing trance is not a coma,” T’Pring snapped, and then closed her eyes and took a breath. ”But yes. Broadly speaking, that is an accurate summation.”

She took her own deep breath and let it out slowly. “This is when you tell me the alternative, right?”

”Direct intervention should allow Spock to reorder his mind and regain equilibrium. He should be attended by a Vulcan mind healer as soon as possible.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Okay, yes. Great idea. But Spock’s not talking to either of us, and the Enterprise is currently stationed lightyears away from anything except security and mining outposts. Any suggestions on how to get him to do that?”

T’Pring paused, like she was considering the situation again. ”I see your point. I will come to you instead. I will leave immediately, and will arrive as quickly as possible.”


Chapter 19

She slipped into the Captain’s cabin right behind Erica, and blinked in surprise at the group that had gathered. M’Benga and Jenna were already there, along with Chief Kyle. “Thanks for getting here so quickly,” Captain Pike said, waving them in. “I’ll get started; Spock can join us in progress.”

That probably wasn’t going to happen, but it did answer the question of whether the Captain was aware of Spock’s condition.

“As you’ve probably guessed, this is an unofficial meeting. I have some bad news to share,” Captain Pike said. “Starfleet has ordered Una’s arrest. It’s possible – likely, even – that I’ll be next.”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Erica said.

“Batel has some nerve, carrying out an order like that,” Jenna muttered. “Where’s the solidarity? The crew before HQ?” She shook her head, and then seemed to realize everyone was looking at her. “Uh, I mean, Commander Chin-Riley is under arrest, sir? I haven’t heard anything about it, from anyone. Until just now, when you told us.”

Captain Pike nodded. “As some of you apparently may already know, yes. Starfleet ordered Captain Batel to take her into custody for violating the anti-genetic modification directive. Una’s an Illyrian.”

There was a long moment when everyone seemed to be avoiding each other’s eyes. “An Illyrian? That’s – how shocking, I mean,” M’Benga said finally. He really was a terrible liar.

Erica slammed her fist onto the arm of her chair. “As if that regulation is anything but blatant hypocrisy and prejudice! And after all she’s done for us! For Starfleet!”

Captain Pike sighed. “You knew already, didn’t you? All of you?”

“Of course,” Erica said, and Jenna nodded her agreement.

“I also knew,” M’Benga confirmed.

“What happens in Sickbay, stays in Sickbay,” she said. “But yeah, I was aware.”

Captain Pike looked at Chief Kyle, who shrugged. “Transporter –”

“-- techs know everything,” Captain Pike said along with him. “You’ve mentioned it.”

Erica looked around. “So we all knew; no one has a problem with it, or we wouldn’t be here. Are we planning a rescue, or what?”

“No.” Captain Pike seemed to realize that wasn’t the answer anyone had been hoping for, and he modified it to, “Not yet.”

He explained, “Since Una told me, I’ve been working with some people I trust, people who are involved with the Federation Council, trying to push through changes to the regulations. There’s no way Starfleet doesn’t know about it. I’d prefer to stick to entirely legal solutions.” He held up a hand to forestall Erica’s inevitable protest. “If we can. For now.”

She leaned forward. “Have you contacted the Stanford-Morehouse Epigenetic Institute? They have a strong advocacy team; they’d be willing to back your group on this.”

“What about Captain Batel?” Chief Kyle asked. “Is she on our side?”

Captain Pike frowned. “Why, what are you thinking?”

“The timing seems strange. Why now, way out here? Why involve the Cayuga at all? Why beam over herself and announce it in the transporter room?”

“All good questions, but we can’t find the answers sitting around here,” Captain Pike said. “I’d like to go with Una, to provide any support that I can. Spock will take temporary command of the Enterprise. Starfleet can hardly argue with a Vulcan science officer in charge, right?”

He looked around, like said Vulcan science officer might suddenly appear. “Where is Spock, anyway?”

She winced. “Spock can’t take command of the Enterprise,” she said. She looked at M’Benga. “You said we needed more information. I just had a call with T’Pring.”

She turned back to Captain Pike. “Spock has a medical condition that is known to Vulcans and requires a Vulcan healer. Left untreated, it will lead to decreasing physical and emotional stability – best case scenario, he’ll need to stay in isolation.”

“And worst case scenario?”

“It will kill him.”

Erica whistled quietly. “What are you going to do?”

Captain Pike interrupted before she had to come up with an answer. “You said left untreated – so there’s a treatment? How long does Spock have?”

“Treatment requires getting Spock to a Vulcan mind healer as quickly as possible. T’Pring said this condition has a variable progression – he could have weeks, or only a few days.”

Captain Pike looked gutted, maybe even more than she would have expected. On the other hand, he’d just had the foundations of his command team pulled out from under him twice in one day – he was entitled to a little shock.

“We’ve faced worse odds,” M’Benga said quietly. “And come out on the other side. Trust the crew, Chris.”

She watched determination settle over Captain Pike, and he nodded firmly. “I do,” he said. “Let’s break this down. Right now the Enterprise hasn’t received any new orders; we’re officially still delivering supplies to Outpost 4.”

“Which means we can’t go chase down the closest Vulcan healer,” Erica said, and Captain Pike nodded. “But – it also gives us some wiggle room.”

“We could authorize a medical transfer of Spock and an attending physician to the outpost,” M’Benga suggested. He looked at her and shrugged. “As a civilian, you wouldn’t be Starfleet’s first choice for prosecution, if it came to that.”

Captain Pike nodded. “And neither would Spock, unless Starfleet feels like starting a fight with Vulcan. We can get you both to the outpost – once you’re transferred, you’d be free to make your own way wherever you need to go. There’s not exactly a docking ring full of options out here, though.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, and tried not to be too obvious about it. Based on the look Captain Pike gave her, she didn’t think she’d been successful. “Anything the two of you need, as long as we can provide it, it’s yours.”

“Thank you. T’Pring is already on her way. She’s agreed to arrange transport.” She caught Erica’s surprised expression and shrugged. “She was calling on a secure diplomatic channel. I didn’t ask any questions.”

“Probably for the best,” Captain Pike agreed. He pivoted and pointed at Erica. “That means you’re in charge. You know the rules.”

“No letting the kids stay up too late, no wild parties, no picnics on the Bridge – those rules?”

“Those are the ones. I want her back in the same condition she’s in now. No scratching the paint job, Ortegas.”

Erica laughed. “I’ll take good care of her, sir.” She started to stand up, and Captain Pike held up a hand.

“Wait.” Everyone paused. Captain Pike looked carefully around the room, where absolutely nothing had changed.

“Sir?” Erica asked finally. “What are you doing?”

“I’m waiting to see if a future version of myself shows up to tell me I’ve doomed the galaxy to war with the Romulans.”

“Right. Got it.” Apparently Erica didn’t think any part of that statement needed additional explanation, because she settled back into silence.

There was a chime at the door, and everyone looked at Captain Pike. “I didn’t show up at the door last time,” he said. “Enter!” he called.

The door slid open, and Nyota stood in the doorway. Her eyes went wide as she took in the room. “Is this a bad time? It – seems like I might be interrupting something.”

“We’re waiting to see if a future version of Captain Pike shows up,” Erica said. “Have you seen one?”

Uhura didn’t even blink. “Not today, no.” She looked at Captain Pike. “But we may have another problem, sir. It’s about the USS Peregrine.”


Chapter 20

Outpost 4 wasn’t set up for guests. Or rather, it was set up for guests who didn’t expect or require comfortable accommodations. If they were lucky, they wouldn’t be there for long.

“Hang in there, Spock.”

Spock didn’t answer, but she hadn’t really expected him to. He was meditating, or at least that’s what it looked like. His eyes were closed, but he was sitting up straight and breathing in a deliberate rhythm; she was willing to call it meditation and he wasn’t in a position to argue.

She’d been dreading trying to convince him to go along with T’Pring’s plan, but he’d presented himself in Sickbay without a word and signed off on the transfer. She had no idea how he’d even found out about it – he’d showed up there before the meeting even ended – but T’Pring said nonverbal and mobile was a relatively good sign, and she didn’t want to push.

An emergency medical transfer involved – what else – a lot of paperwork, but M’Benga was handling it from their end, and the outpost’s commander had been exceptionally willing to not ask any questions. They’d been settled in an isolation room in Sickbay, and other than a few curious Medical staff, they were left alone.

Or they had been, until there was a commotion outside the door, and she heard a voice she didn’t recognize say, “She’s expected.”

T’Pring swept into the room with a stranger in her wake. “Christine,” she said, and her voice sounded relieved. “Are you well?”

“Better, now that you’re here,” she answered. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

T’Pring gestured at the newcomer. “This is James Kirk. He provided transportation. He is – a friend.”

Kirk shook his head, but he was smiling as he did it. “You know, when you say it like that, people might think you don’t actually like me.”

“I have not yet decided if that would be an incorrect assumption,” T’Pring replied. “This is Christine Chapel. I will attend Spock. It would be best if we were not interrupted.”

She took the hint and stepped outside the room. Kirk followed her out. “She’s great, isn’t she? And please, call me Jim.” He smiled again, with a disarming ‘aw shucks’ sort of expression that probably explained how he’d gotten through the Medical staff so easily.

She nodded and said, “Christine is fine,” and then the name finally registered in her brain. “Jim as in Jim Kirk – Lieutenant James Kirk, Sam’s brother? I thought you were on the Farragut.”

He didn’t look like a Starfleet lieutenant, and not just because he wasn’t wearing a uniform. He slouched against the wall like he was holding it up, and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“That’s me. I’m on an independent training rotation.” He said it easily, like that was a thing Starfleet offered and not something he’d just made up. She genuinely couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re lying or not,” she said. “It’s very impressive.”

He waved a hand back and forth. “Truth is a social construct, open to a variety of interpretations. I’m not AWOL from the Farragut, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Well, it wasn’t until you mentioned it,” she said dryly. “So you – what? Just happened to be in the area when T’Pring needed a ship and a pilot?”

Jim shrugged. “I had a hunch. I try not to ignore those.”

It was a mystery, but mysterious lieutenants with hunches were absolutely not her problem to solve. “You know, Sam’s on the Enterprise. You want to give him a call, while we’re waiting? I can go over there and pretend not to be listening, if you want.”

He laughed, and shook his head. “Talk about a call that would get awkward fast. No, I’ll spare all of us that experience. Thanks, though.”

She wasn’t entirely sure what would be awkward about it, and it wasn’t any of her business, but – “You know he’s going to find out you were here at some point.”

“Sure, at some point that’s not now. Sam and I get along great, and that relationship is based on not talking too often. I can’t yell at him, he can’t yell at me – everyone wins.” He gestured to the far side of the room. “I’d be happy to do the same for you if you’d like. If there’s someone you want to call?”

That was a thing people did, wasn’t it – when someone was in the hospital, whoever was with them called their friends and family. For support, or to let them know what was going on, or just to have something to do instead of waiting. She wasn’t used to seeing it from this side.

“I’m an only child,” she said. Spock wasn’t, but it didn’t seem like the moment to bring it up. “Seriously, though, I just came from the Enterprise, and the only other person I would call is –” She waved a hand back to the isolation room.

“Right, okay.” Jim looked back and forth between her and the door, and said, “Soo…” He held up his hands. “Feel free to tell me to back off if I’m overstepping. But, ah, what’s the deal with those two?”

“They’re bonded,” she said. Jim looked confused, so she added, “Betrothed? It’s part of a Vulcan courtship.”

Jim nodded, but he still seemed hesitant. “Yeah, I got that part. It’s just – she talks about you a lot.”

“Oh – really?” She could feel herself blushing, despite her best efforts. “Well, we’re –” She waved towards the room again, and then at herself. “Exploring options?”

Jim’s eyes widened, and she braced herself for whatever comment he might decide to make. But he just nodded. “The three of you? Congratulations, then.”

“Thank you. It’s a work in progress.”

“Aren’t we all?” he said. They waited in silence after that, but it was a comfortable one. Like taking a moment to breathe, and knowing there was nothing else she needed to do at that moment except breathing.

Finally, though, Jim straightened up from the wall and said, “I should have asked this before, but do you know how long this is going to take? There’s no rush; it’s just that I borrowed the ship from a friend, and they’re probably going to want it back at some point.”

T’Pring had either excellent timing or excellent hearing, because she chose that moment to open the door and step through, with Spock right behind her. “We may leave immediately,” she said.


Chapter 21

“The situation is somewhat more complex than I anticipated.”

She looked up at the sound of T’Pring’s voice. “Is that bad? It sounds bad.”

“It is – complex,” T’Pring repeated.

They were at warp, in a ship small enough that you couldn’t avoid knowing it. She’d been pretending anyway, focusing her attention on a map of their route. The fastest way to reach T’Pring’s mind healer contact took them away from the Neutral Zone, skimming the edge of unaffiliated space before arcing back to intersect with the course of a Vulcan science vessel.

“It is not what I first thought,” T’Pring clarified. “It appears that Spock has an incomplete mental bond – with you. Though I do not believe either you or he was aware of it, and I am uncertain as to how such a situation could have occurred.”

She had no idea what to say. No, wait, she did. “Does this mean he’s not going to die?”

T’Pring looked frustrated. “I do not know. I would like to initiate a mind meld with both of you, to identify the origin of the bond and better understand its effects. Spock has agreed.”

She caught Jim’s eyes as she followed T’Pring. He gave a thumbs-up and mouthed ‘good luck.’ It was unexpectedly encouraging, and she nodded back.

If she’d had time to think about it, she definitely would have asked more questions. But she didn’t, and then she was staring at herself, in what had to be a memory of the nebula incident. Spock and T’Pring were standing on either side of her, echoing their positions when they’d entered the mind meld.

“This is approximately the time when the bond first formed,” T’Pring said. “Is this Sickbay?”

She nodded. It was strange to see herself from the outside. She could remember what she’d felt at the time, but it was overlaid with her current feelings. She could sense Spock’s and T’Pring’s feelings as well, she realized with a jolt – not much, but there were a few tendrils of curiosity and confusion that she knew weren’t her own.

While she grappled with that, they watched a long-haired version of herself move through the room, ignoring all the blinking screens and devices in favor of dropping some leaves into a bubbling pot. She was absolutely not going to call it a cauldron.

The doors slid open, and memory-Spock hurried into the room. “Pollux!” the memory-Christine exclaimed. “Are you all right? I wasn’t expecting you until the next hunt.”

Memory-Spock shook his head. “Unusual events are occurring all over the kingdoms,” he said. “Places that should seem familiar appear changed. Spells I have been able to do since childhood are suddenly failing, or reacting strangely.”

The Spock next to her nodded. “I remember this,” he said. “My awareness of the manufactured reality was not constant. It was – a disconcerting experience.”

Memory-Christine stepped closer and held her hands on either side of Spock’s head, but several inches away from it. “Your aura is very disturbed,” she said. “It seems like you are deeply conflicted about something – about reality? About your place in this world?”

Memory-Spock’s expression shifted. “Could King Ridley be using the Mercury Stone to influence my mind?”

“Mm, I don’t think that’s quite it,” memory-Christine said. “Here, I have just the thing for you.” She ladled some of the bubbling liquid out of the pot into a cup that seemed to come out of nowhere. “Fresh root tea. Drink that, and then meditate in the crystal cave. It’s excellent for focus.”

Memory-Spock stepped through a door that Christine knew for sure was a storage closet, but the walls glinted with glowing crystals. They watched him finish the tea and settle into a meditative pose.

And then she blinked, and she was back on the floor of their ship, with the engines humming around them and not a single plant to be seen. “Was that it?” she asked.

T’Pring frowned. “I do not understand. That was when the bond formed?”

“I told you we didn’t have sex,” she said.

“And I accepted your statement,” T’Pring confirmed. “Theoretically, spontaneous bonds can form alongside other forms of intimacy – close physical contact, extended periods of intense emotion, even deep conversation. I was not expecting – tea and crystals.”

“That sounds like a euphemism if I’ve ever heard one,”Jim said, sticking his head in the door. “Everything okay in here?” He did a double-take when his gaze landed on Spock. “You look better.”

“T’Pring is shielding my mind with her own, creating a temporary stabilizing effect,” Spock said. She couldn’t read his expression at all when he added, “You are James Kirk?”

“Call me Jim.” He raised his hand in a wave, quickly transitioned it to a ta’al, and then shrugged. “Nice to meet you.”

Spock inclined his head. “Likewise.”

“It is not a euphemism,” T’Pring said. She seemed at a loss for how to proceed after that, but JIm took it as the invitation it might have been, and joined them. It wasn’t a large ship, so that mostly just meant he was several steps further from the cockpit.

He also looked at Spock, who hesitated for several seconds and then said, “It is difficult to describe.”

She resisted the urge to tease. Whatever was going on with him seemed to be pretty clearly her fault; the least she could do was cut him some slack on making conversation.

So she offered, “The Enterprise encountered a nebula containing an unknown entity, which connected with a child onboard the ship, and used a fictional story she was familiar with to create an artificial reality. The crew became part of that reality for several hours, after which they had only minimal memories of the events that transpired.”

Spock gave her a sharp look. “You knew?”

“I’ve known M’Benga for years,” she answered. “Medical confidentiality doesn’t just apply to you.”

“Mysterious entity in a nebula,” Jim said, nodding. “That’s a classic. Who hasn’t encountered one or two of those?”

“I have not,” T’Pring said. She took a deep breath. “You are implying that an unknown entity facilitated the creation of a mental bond using – tea and crystals. Because of a child’s story? Why?”

“I think the nebula was keeping it age appropriate,” she said. “Rukiya’s only twelve.”

“It was lonely,” Spock said. “It sensed in Rukiya a kindred spirit of sorts. Both of them had a desire for connection, which manifested in a variety of ways in their manufactured reality. That some of them continued to have consequences after we departed the nebula was, I believe, unintended.”

She felt like they had gotten off track from the goal. “T’Pring,” she said. “You wanted to see the origin of the bond – why? What’s the next step?”

“There are several options,” T’Pring replied, and then she stopped.

She looked at Spock, who looked at T’Pring, and then back at her. “Perhaps it would be best to wait. The mind healer will be able to describe them in more detail.”

She looked back and forth between them. It was obvious they were deflecting – but from what, and for what reason, was less clear. It was a choice between pushing for answers right then, or letting things stay as they were for a while longer. Normally she’d be all for pushing, but they were a long way from help if anything went wrong. Putting it off might be – if nothing else – the most logical option.


Chapter 22

The drop out of warp rattled the ship enough to jolt her out of sleep, and she stumbled her way to the cockpit. “Are we there?” She squinted at the viewscreen, and then at Jim. “Did you sleep?”

“We’re not there,” he said, ignoring the second question entirely. “Something yanked us out of warp. Bad timing, too; we’re just outside of Federation space.” He made a face at the readout in front of him. “Theoretically, at least. Navigation is a mess. Comms are totally fried.”

T’Pring gracefully maneuvered past her to sit in the copilot seat. “Engines?” she asked.

Jim shook his head. “Impulse thrusters are functional, but warp is out. Sublight engines might be fixable, but we’d have to sacrifice other systems to do it.”

She felt Spock step up next to her. “I will run a shipwide diagnostic.”

“We are receiving a transmission,” T’Pring said.

“What? We shouldn’t be able to –”

He cut himself off as the viewscreen flashed. They could hear the voice before the image cleared. ”Well, well, what have we here?”

For a second, she wasn’t sure who was more surprised, and then Angel started laughing. ”Oh, this is almost too good. I knew I’d catch something in my little trap; you Federation people are so predictable. For all your talk of respecting boundaries, you’re all too happy to cut through unaffiliated space if it will make your lives easier, aren’t you?”

Jim looked back and forth between T’Pring and the screen. “Do you know this person?” he asked.

Angel made a show of ignoring him. ”Is Spock there too? T’Pring, tell me you haven’t traded him in for –” They gestured towards Jim. ”This person?”

“We have encountered each other previously,” T’Pring said to Jim. “I would not consider us to be acquaintances.”

”Ouch.” Angel put a hand on their chest. ”T’Pring, that hurts, it really does. After all we’ve been through together? Oh, there’s Spock, I see him now.”

“They’re a pirate,” she said quietly to Jim. “They tried to hijack the Enterprise, and use Spock as a hostage to get T’Pring to release one of the Ankeshtan K'til prisoners.”

”And is that the nurse?” Angel said. ”Oh, it is; I didn’t notice you there at first. Also, give me some credit, I successfully hijacked the Enterprise.”

“And then lost it again,” she retorted.

”Yes, thanks to your deception,” Angel said. ”Don’t think I’ve forgotten that.”

“You said this is a trap,” T’Pring interrupted. “A trap with what purpose?”

”Well, you know how it is. After I – as you so charmingly put it – lost the Enterprise, I took some time to sit with my feelings, which were, let’s see – anger, with a side of being really pissed off. And so I thought ‘why not revenge?’”

They waved a hand to indicate the interior of the ship. ”I still had this ship, and a few friends out there in the galaxy, but a pirate always needs resources. So I set a trap and figured I’d see who wandered by.” They laughed again. ”I have to say – I knew eventually we’d run into each other again, but I was not expecting this.”

“Is there a next step to your plan?” Jim asked. “The gloating is getting a little repetitive. I get bored easily; you know how it is.”

”Who are you?” Angel said, and then waved it off. ”No, never mind; I don’t care. I thought we were having a nice conversation, but if you’re so eager, I’ll move on. Since this is a special occasion, we’ll even skip the usual threats, looting, etcetera, and go right to the bigger picture.”

Their face disappeared from the screen, replaced by an image of what looked like a small moon. ”This moon is the closest thing in space to you right now; certainly the only thing you have a prayer of reaching with impulse thrusters. All I want you to do is land on it and stay there. Think of it like a vacation. Or a time out. I’ll come back once you’ve had time to think about what you’re willing to bargain in exchange for rescue.”

She knew Spock was raising his eyebrow without even having to check. “And if we do not?”

”Well, if you’d prefer to putter around with your little thrusters until life support gives out and you all die, that is entirely up to you. I’ll let you decide.”

The transmission cut off.

“Are they gone?” she asked.

“The sensors are still recalibrating,” Jim said. “And – yes, it looks like they’re gone. I’m not picking up any other vessels.”

Spock frowned. “We were not able to detect their vessel before, even when they were within transporter range. It is logical that they would wait, in order to observe our chosen course of action.”

“Fair enough, but if we can’t detect them and they’re not going to interfere, does it matter where they are?”

Spock seemed to be considering the question, and T’Pring said, “I do not have experience landing a ship of this type on a terrestrial surface. Is that a viable option?”

It was Jim’s turn to look considering. “Maybe. What about our chance of rescue?”

Spock hesitated, but then shook his head. “The Enterprise is unlikely to be able to justify a search, even if they were able to track us.”

T’Pring said, “I requested to be out of contact for several weeks. There would be no reason for anyone to assume I was in need of rescue.”

“Same,” Jim agreed. “Which leaves us with taking our chances in space, or taking our chances on the moon. Full disclosure – if we manage to land, this ship definitely won’t be taking off again. And that’s if we even make it to the surface. There’s a reason we use nav computers.”

“We do not have the resources to fix the ship, nor will the ship’s systems support us if we remain adrift,” Spock said. “The moon is the better choice, despite the risks.”

Everyone looked at her, and she shook her head. “I don’t think I should get a vote,” she said. “What do I know about the ship’s capabilities?”

“You are very familiar with your own capabilities,” Spock said.

“And you'll be the one doing everything you can to keep us alive, whichever choice we go with,” Jim added. “You get a vote.”

“The moon, then.”

T’Pring nodded. “It is the most logical choice under the circumstances.”

“All right.” Jim swung around to the controls and took a deep breath. “Let’s crash into a moon.”


Chapter 23

The thing was, being in a small spaceship that was actively engaged in crashing into a moon wasn’t actually that great for someone with claustrophobia. Even if it was mild, and generally not a problem at all.

Which was to say, she blanked out around the time when the atmospheric re-entry alarm started blaring (of course that would be the one system still working perfectly), and by the time her brain was accepting input again, they’d stopped moving. The quiet was unnerving after the chaos that had just been happening all around her.

She let her training take over, and did a quick assessment. Breathing, fingers and toes moving, seeing and hearing, neck mobile – all good signs. She didn’t see any blood, but it was pretty dark in the cabin, even with the emergency lights.

Her fingers were shaking as she unclipped the emergency crash harness. Classic shock reaction, her brain reminded her. Find something else to focus on.

She found Jim first, strapped into the pilot’s seat and conscious. He gave her a tired thumbs-up. “I’ll live,” he said quietly. “The ship is mostly intact. Give me a minute and I’ll see if we can get power back.”

She almost laughed. “It’s like you’ve never met a nurse before. Do people usually believe you when you say things like that?” She ran the scanner over him. “Muscle strain, some whiplash – you’re lucky you avoided a concussion.”

“I have a friend who’s a doctor,” Jim said. “I think you’d get along – similar bedside manner.”

“Charming and clever?” she suggested. He smiled, and then winced as the harness dug into his side.

“Something like that,” he said.

She made her way over to T’Pring and Spock next. Both of them were unconscious, but with no visible signs of injuries. Jim was shaking out his hands when he joined her. “Is it safe to move them?”

The scanner showed no spinal or internal injuries – no reason at all for them to not be awake and talking. “It should be. Is it safe for us to stay in the ship?” She didn’t want to move them twice; if they were going to need to evacuate, they should focus on that first.

“Should be,” Jim said. “You want them in the bunks?” The ship was too small to have anything like an official Sickbay.

T’Pring startled awake with a gasp that made both of them jump. “Wait,” she said. “Don’t touch him.”

She immediately held her hands up. “Waiting. Not touching.” One of the many first rules of nursing – if someone said don’t touch, there was probably a good reason for it.

T’Pring said, “During the descent, Spock experienced a neurological overload; he has now entered a healing trance.”

“And that’s bad, right? Before, you said that would be a bad sign.”

T’Pring hesitated. She looked exhausted – if she’d still been shielding Spock when he overloaded, she had to have been hit with the backlash. “It is not ideal. It is unlikely I will be able to stabilize him on my own.”

And they had no way of knowing when they might be able to reach a Vulcan healer. She was about to throw ‘not pushing’ out the window.

“M’Benga suggested that bonds – more bonds? Could be helpful to some Vulcans in maintaining their emotional equilibrium. I know I’m not the expert here, but if there’s anything I can do to help, I’ll do it.”

“Me too,” Jim said. “Vulcans can have bonds with their friends, right? Not everyone has the ability to warp to a mind healer after a trauma, so there must be some kind of backup plan when this kind of thing happens.”

“It is not –” T’Pring closed her eyes. “There might be a way.”

“Is it an obscure Vulcan ritual?” Jim asked. He seemed to have picked the strategy of annoying T’Pring into letting them help – to be fair, it wasn’t not working. Yet.

“It is not,” T’Pring snapped, “an obscure Vulcan ritual. It is a scientifically validated method that has a previously unacceptable variable success rate. It is not shared with outsiders.”

“And since I already know about it, I must not be an outsider,” Jim countered.

“T’Pring,” she said carefully. “The situation has escalated. Your own emotional state is being impacted; we may reach a point where neither you or Spock are able to direct us through this. An outcome that includes Spock’s recovery is more favorable than one that includes keeping Vulcan’s secrets.”

T’Pring closed her eyes again and took a deep breath. “I appreciate your attempt to make this appear to be the logical choice. I must admit, I find myself – less motivated by logic than usual, in this situation.”

“What Vulcan doesn’t know won’t hurt them?” Jim guessed.

“Indeed.”

“What do we need to do?”

T’Pring frowned. “It is more accurate to describe what you would need to allow to be done. I do not believe Spock is capable of directing the bond formation in his present state. This – method, would allow me to access your minds and Spock’s simultaneously in order to facilitate the bonding process.”

Their eyes met. “Christine. Spock already has an incomplete bond with you, which should increase the probability of success. However, this practice is not in common use, and it is not without risk. If the bond formation fails, it could result in injury; even death.”

“It will work,” she said. It had to.

Jim cleared his throat. “Also, not to be the pessimist here, but we just crashed onto a moon outside of Federation space, and we don’t have a working comms system. A lot of things might kill us tomorrow. At least this one would be for a good reason.”

T’Pring looked like she was going to get emotional again, and Jim stood up quickly. “I’m sure you have preparations you need to make,” he said. “And we need to get some basic data on our surroundings – that way we’ll know if the next thing is going to try to kill us while we do your thing, or if it will wait until after.”


Chapter 24

“Well, the good news is it’s an M-class moon, barely. We can breathe the air and drink the water, though I wouldn’t recommend eating any of the local flora.”

She’d started to worry almost as soon as Jim left the ship for ‘reconnaissance,’ but he made it back faster than the timer he’d asked her to start. It was pretty clearly a manipulation to make her feel better, but since it was working, she was willing to go along with it.

Jim waved the tricorder. “The bad news is that there’s no sign anyone else has been here, at least as much as this can pick up.”

“Why is that bad news? Wouldn’t we prefer to avoid more pirates?”

“Maybe, but Angel must have some reason to think no one is going to wander by on their own with supplies or a rescue before they get back.”

He shrugged. “By all appearances, it's a fairly decent place to live, by human standards. Not too far from Federation space, clearly on the flight path of at least one pirate, but no indication that anyone is using it as a base of operations?”

“You think it has some fatal flaw, and we just haven’t found it yet?”

Jim sighed, and ran his hands through his hair. “I think that’s more likely than that it just coincidentally happens to be empty, yeah.”

They were both supposed to be staying out of the way while T’Pring meditated with Spock, or meditated at Spock. She had put it more tactfully, but barely. It still hadn’t quite sunk in that in a few hours, they were going to attempt an obscure Vulcan ritual to stabilize Spock’s mental landscape.

“Hey,” she said. “Are you really okay with all this?” She gestured towards the living area.

“Trust me, this is not the worst or the weirdest thing I’ve ever done, not by a long shot.” He hesitated, and then added, “Probably not even the worst or weirdest thing I’ve done for Spock.”

She blinked. That sounded like a confession, which meant he definitely wasn’t talking about their current situation. Which meant he knew Spock before, somehow, and was voluntarily disclosing that information.

“Jim Kirk,” she said. “Are we exchanging tragic backstories right now? I would have guessed you required at least a level four friendship before doing that.”

“Are you saying we’re not level four friends yet?” Jim said lightly. “Crash-landing on a moon together has to count for something, right?” He swiveled the pilot’s chair around to sit down. “No reciprocation necessary, I promise. I just thought – since those two are probably going to be in my head by this time tomorrow, I’d rather just tell you too. Keep it fair.”

She watched him, and he watched her watching him, and finally she said, “Okay. Does it involve time travel?”

“Not exactly. It’s – well, do you believe in the concept of souls?” She nodded, and he added, “It’s like that,” which was considerably less helpful than he seemed to think it was.

“Like – what?”

“Like – everyone’s soul has a sort of energy to it, and sometimes you meet someone and you think ‘oh, I know you; we’ve met before, haven’t we?’ And for me it’s just, ah, magnified, sometimes.”

“You recognize people’s souls,” she said. It wasn’t a commonly known ability among humans, but it wasn’t completely unheard of in the wider universe.

“Recognize, remember…occasionally have dreams and/or visions of things that happened to other incarnations. Sure.” He smiled. “Who hasn’t?”

A thought suddenly occurred to her. “Jim. Have you done this ‘obscure Vulcan ritual’ before?”

“Oh yeah, probably. I think all of us have. I was pretty sure it existed, and that must have come from somewhere.” He frowned. “I’m not entirely sure how that works. Do you know, I’ve never actually tried to explain it to anyone?”

She almost laughed. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

“No, I can see that,” he said. “In fact, you seem surprisingly unsurprised by all of this.”

“I’m a nurse,” she reminded him. “And you’re not the only one in the universe with a weird story.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Does yours involve time travel?”

”Yes.” She nodded, and then shrugged. “Probably. It’s not as easy as you might think to prove that you’re still in the same timeline you started in. You know how it is.”

“I do not, but I am extremely curious about why you’d think that I would.”

“I am also curious.” T’Pring walked into the cockpit area and looked back and forth between them. “Vulcan hearing is superior to Human hearing,” she reminded them. She paused with her eyes on Jim, and said, “This information explains a great deal about you. I – apologize, if I learned it before you intended me to.”

He waved it off. “Today, tomorrow – you were always going to know. You always do, somehow.”

She swallowed as both of them turned to look at her. There was a reason she didn’t talk about this. But Jim was right – they were about to be in each other’s heads, and they’d have the best chance of success if they minimized the surprises they’d find in there.

“I’ve lived this life – a version of this life – already,” she said. “Starfleet, the Enterprise, med school – all of it. Years from now, I worked at Starfleet HQ, kept my hand in with missions every once in a while. And then one day I woke up as a child again, seemingly having traveled back in time.”

“Seemingly?”

“Not to get too existential on you, but is there any way to know for sure that what we believe to be reality is actually real?” She gestured around the cockpit. “This could be an alternate reality, a mirror dimension, a hallucination – who knows, maybe I’m in a coma and all of this is in my head.”

“I feel like that explanation was unnecessarily short,” Jim said. “Does it feel like it’s the same timeline? Are things the same? Have you tried to change anything? Was it just you? Do you know if it’s related to Spock’s time travel thing?” He looked at T’Pring and quickly added, “Which is classified and I certainly don’t know anything about.”

T’Pring raised an eyebrow. “Bonded Vulcans cannot be compelled to testify against one another in a court of law. It seems appropriate to inform you both of that fact at this juncture.”

Jim pointed at T’Pring. “That is excellent knowledge to have.” He moved his finger to point at her. “So?”

Was she really supposed to remember all his questions? “I don’t think it was related to Spock’s thing, but I don’t know. Some things are the same. I’ve made different decisions, sometimes. Sometimes I’ve ended up in the same places anyway, but I like to think I have fewer regrets this time.”

“Hear hear,” Jim murmured.

“Thank you,” T’Pring said. She tucked her hands behind her back. “I must return to Spock. I advise both of you to rest.”


Chapter 25

They’d cleared as much space as they could, so that all four of them could sit on the floor within arm’s reach. Well, three of them were sitting. Spock was still unconscious, so he was lying down, with T’Pring at his head and her and Jim on either side. She was trying very hard not to be reminded of a wake.

“Where did you even get candles?” Jim reached out to touch one, but stopped at T’Pring’s laser-like stare.

“I brought them with me,” T’Pring said. Her tone added ‘obviously’ to the statement, but she didn’t actually say it out loud, which was impressive restraint.

“What should we be expecting here?” she asked. “Is there anything I should do? Anything I shouldn’t do?”

“You should attempt to remain calm.” T’Pring reached out and put a hand on her knee, and her mind went blank. Jim smirked at her, and then quickly switched to a neutral expression when T’Pring turned to look at him.

“I’ve been told I have a very calming presence,” he said.

“I do not believe that to be a true statement,” T’Pring answered. “Let us begin.”

She took T’Pring’s hand, and put her other hand on Spock’s. The effect was instantaneous.

”Well, that’s not something you see every day.”

She was standing on a rock outcropping – T’Pring on one side, Jim on the other. T’Pring was looking at her; Jim was pointing towards the edge of whatever mountaintop they’d found themselves on, and she squinted against the harsh light.

“This is Vulcan,” T’Pring said quietly. She sounded relieved. “Spock has retreated here in his mind, to a place of safety.”

“Who’s that with him?”

“That is Spock.”

The figures were sitting on a ledge overlooking a shadowed canyon; she watched them stand up and move closer, and all she could think of was Jim saying ‘oh, I know you.’ The taller figure was the Spock they’d just seen on the floor of the ship. The shorter one – same serious expression, same perfect posture – could only be Spock as a child.

“What about the – dog?”

“I-Chaya is a sehlat,” T’Pring said. “Many Vulcan children learn responsibility by caring for a domesticated sehlat, and in return receive protection and companionship.”

“I-Chaya is adorable,” she said.

The two Spocks and I-Chaya were obviously close enough to hear her, because older-Spock put his hand on I-Chaya’s head, and mini-Spock frowned at her. “I-Chaya is fierce and strong,” he said. Then he looked at older-Spock, who nodded.

“None of us are defined by a single characteristic,” older-Spock said. “I-Chaya can be fierce and strong and also – very cute. These traits might seem to be at odds with each other, but they can in fact be complementary.” I-Chaya bumped his head against Spock’s leg, and Spock scratched behind his ears.

“Wow, they really don’t do subtle, do they?” Jim murmured, and she shook her head.

“We were waiting for you,” mini-Spock said. He turned to older-Spock and bowed. Older-Spock returned the bow, then crouched down and wrapped his arms around I-Chaya, while mini-Spock ran over to T’Pring and whispered something in her ear.

She blinked, but it wasn’t her eyes – the scene was actually blurring in front of her. She blinked again, and they were inside. Spock was next to her, and she could see an even smaller version of him tucked into bed with I-Chaya. A woman was sitting nearby, reading to them.

“My mother,” Spock said. “She read to me often; it was a way to introduce me to my Human heritage.”

She could feel I-Chaya’s fur under her own fingers; the sleep pulling at baby Spock’s eyelids; the love his mother was practically radiating into the room. Tears filled her eyes, and she fumbled for Spock’s fingers without thinking.

He let her, and it surprised her enough that she didn’t notice when their surroundings changed again. Spock was gone, and T’Pring was next to her, and they watched a teenage T’Pring with elaborate braids punch a boy in the face. She could see T’Pring’s indignation like it had a physical presence. “He was extremely rude,” T’Pring said. “I assure you, it was an entirely logical decision.”

She turned, and it was Jim next to her, and a wide open field in front of them. “Having fun yet?” Jim asked. The sky flickered from Earth blue to an ashen gray, and he glared at it.

“Where is this?” she asked. “Is this yours?” She couldn’t feel anything except an oppressive heat.

The sky flickered back to blue, and Jim said, “Iowa,” with a determined tone. “It’s Iowa. I’m sure I’m around somewhere. What about you?”

The sky turned gray again as it faded, and she grabbed for him instinctively. They both showed up in her backyard, and there was Milo, but it wasn’t just baby-Christine playing with him. What had to be a younger version of Jim was there too.

“See, there I am,” Jim said. “Is that a wolf?”

“Milo’s a malamute. How are you here?”

“I told you – obscure Vulcan ritual. We’re bonding.”

Milo looked up and dashed towards them. She closed her eyes when she hugged him, and when she opened them again, he ran to a crying mini-Spock and woofed quietly. A teenage T’Pring meditated in a room full of candles, and Jim stood guard in the doorway. Cadet Spock coaxed a cat from the stacks at Starfleet Academy’s most prestigious library, and T’Pring passed him a packet of treats. Jim piloted his first shuttle through an ion storm, and she was there to celebrate with him afterwards.

She was on Earth, on Vulcan, on the Enterprise. She was the first person to set foot on a new world, she was reading a book by a fireplace, she was dreaming of a hundred thousand days that would happen, had happened, might never happen.

She was in a garden, looking over T’Pring’s bowed head at a screen that said ‘Connection Declined.’ She was in an office, wrapping her arms around Jim as someone said, “They still haven’t decided if they’re going to expel you for this.” She was in the Enterprise briefing room, standing shoulder to shoulder with Spock as Captain Pike said words she couldn’t hear, his emotions screaming his sorrow.

She was, abruptly, in her own head again, and T’Pring was holding her hand. People scrambled around them, a chaos she recognized as barely-controlled panic, from a Starfleet command center that didn’t exist yet. The viewscreen fuzzed out in a burst of static, and someone yelled, “They’re headed for the bridge!”

The scene faded, and she was looking at a kaleidoscope of stars. Relief and awe echoed back at her from all directions. They were together.


Chapter 26

She woke up feeling refreshed, and was immediately suspicious.

“Your bond was more complete than I expected,” she heard T’Pring say. She pulled her arm away from her face and heard a grumble from her other side. Right – they were all still on the floor. It had seemed like a great idea at the time, but she could admit they hadn’t exactly thought through all the ramifications.

“You have likely been experiencing some degree of the physical side effects for some time, including a reduced need for sleep.”

“Don’t tell my boss,” she said automatically, and then her brain caught up to the rest of her. “Are you all right? The others?”

“I am well,” T’Pring said calmly. “The procedure was successful.”

She pushed herself up so she was sitting, and stretched her arms over her head. Spock and Jim were still on the floor. “It is a natural sleep now,” T’Pring said. “I expect they will be waking shortly.”

“Are you reading my mind?” she asked.

T’Pring raised an eyebrow. “You are a nurse. It is the logical information to provide.”

“That doesn’t actually answer my question.”

“The answer is – not as simple as a binary response.”

Jim grumbled again, and sat up, yawning. “That sounds like a yes. Are we reading your mind too?”

T’Pring hesitated, and it was Spock who said, “Yes. And no. The bond between us is not static; it will change and adapt over time. At present, it is still settling. Fluctuations in our awareness of each other are not unexpected.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Jim muttered.

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Shared dreaming is a common side effect of the bonding process. As is emotional transference. There is food, if you would like it.”

Jim reached for the ration bars without further comment, and passed her one without her needing to ask. “Thanks,” she said. It was her favorite flavor. She looked at him, and then at T’Pring and Spock. She could tell they were faking at least half their calm demeanor, which was surprisingly reassuring. “So, this is –” she paused, and then started again. “I’m not complaining,” she clarified. “But this isn’t exactly what I expected.”

T’Pring inclined her head. “Instead of each of us forming a bond with Spock, there is now a four-way bond including all of us.”

T’Pring looked – very calm about that. Spock’s expression was determinedly neutral. “And are you both – okay with that?” She didn’t think Jim had been surprised at all. As for herself, she hadn’t known what one bond would feel like, so having three instead wasn’t any different in that sense.

“Are you?” Spock replied.

She shook her finger at him. “Ah! I asked first!” On the one hand, maybe she shouldn’t pester someone who’d essentially been in a coma. (On the other hand, he did know her already. It wasn’t like it would be a surprise.)

“This whole thing happened pretty fast,” Jim said carefully. “It’s all right if you want time to think it through. Sometimes decisions made in the heat of the moment feel different with a little time and distance. I’m basically a stranger to all –”

Spock cut him off. “You are not. On the contrary, after the bond formation process, I expect we know you better than nearly anyone else in your life. In addition, experiencing stressful situations together often makes one’s feelings more clear, as emotions become heightened in the face of danger or difficulty.” He looked directly at Jim. “Do you regret this?”

“Weren’t we talking about you?” Jim deflected, and Spock raised one eyebrow.

“I believe the appropriate response is ‘I asked you first,’” Spock said.

Jim laughed once, and then turned serious. “Spock, I could never regret this. Not in any lifetime, not under any circumstances. But I understand that my – unique outlook, I suppose, might make my feelings different than yours.”

“They are not,” Spock said firmly. His eyes found each of them in turn. “A day ago, I did not know to want this. Today I find that keeping it is – something I want very much. This outcome is one that I would not choose to change, unless one of you wished it to be different.”

He looked at her. “I worry that your efforts to save my life may have pushed you into a decision you did not wish to make at this time.”

T’Pring inclined her head. “Spock and I are of one mind on this topic.”

She took a deep breath, and reminded herself that they could sense her intentions. She didn’t have to get every word perfect to communicate. “I asked for time so that we could get to know each other better; I’d say we managed that. I was worried that I was letting feelings from my past life influence my choices, and I didn’t want to mess up something that was working between you.”

She took another breath, just as Jim projected an image of himself holding a sign that said ‘YOU’RE DOING GREAT!’ She tried to turn her laugh into a cough, but it broke the tension either way. “I want this,” she said. “With all of you. That doesn’t mean there isn’t still more to figure out, but it’s a good place to start.” She pointed at each of them. “New rule; no taking advantage of the person who doesn’t know how these bonds work. I expect tutoring!”

Spock nodded, but T’Pring frowned. “In your other life, did you and Spock never–”

She shook her head. “Never,” she said. “I wanted to; I think the whole ship knew about my crush on him. But he was dedicated to you. When you left him for Stonn–”

T’Pring made a sound like she was choking. “When I left him? For Stonn?” The disbelief was clear in her voice.

Maybe it hadn’t been the best time to drop that piece of information. “Yes? I really don’t know all the details.” Don’t think about the ritual combat, she told herself. Don’t think about the –

“And there was ritual combat?”

“Yes?” At least she hadn’t thought about the soup throwing –

“And Spock threw soup at you?”

She dropped her face into her hands.

“Many things were different in that time,” T’Pring said, and she latched onto it like the gift it clearly was.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, directing all the gratitude she could manage towards T’Pring. “Many things! Maybe we could talk about something else now?”

“We could talk about how you said you ‘worked at Starfleet HQ’ when you were actually the director of Starfleet Emergency Operations,” Jim suggested. She threw her ration bar at him.

He caught it easily and handed it back. “Or we could talk about fixing the ship,” he said. “What’s our priority? Sensors? Comms?”

Spock frowned at him. “I have a query. When you previously stated that the ship would not be able to take off again, were you aware that the thrusters would fail before we reached the moon’s surface?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say ‘aware,’ but there’s a limited number of ways you can force a ship this size out of warp without causing a cascading system failure, and that trap definitely wasn’t using any of them.” He patted the wall next to him. “She may not have the redundancies built in the way a ship like Enterprise does, but she got us here.”

“This ship is not capable of a glide path landing,” Spock said.

“I think it’s pretty obvious that she is,” Jim retorted. “Besides, it wasn’t a true glide landing. You got the thrusters back on for that last part, and it all worked out.”

“There was no guarantee that I would be able to do so.”

“Well, no, but I had a hunch. Sometimes a little faith goes a long way.”

“A ‘hunch’ is not an adequate replacement for mechanical engineering.”

They were having fun, she realized. That was the feeling she was getting from both of them, seeping idly outwards like the smoke from Spock’s incense. She caught T’Pring’s gaze and rolled her eyes. “We’re going to go check on things outside,” she said. “Let us know when you decide what to fix first.”


Chapter 27

“Hey, I’ve got a question.” She and T’Pring had gone out for another survey of the local area, leaving Jim and Spock to argue about the most efficient way to fix the sensor system. “Was that actually an obscure Vulcan ritual?”

T’Pring was smiling. She couldn’t see it, but it was definitely there. “It is a scientifically validated method, as I said. It is – based on ancient records, and at one time could possibly be said to have had a ritualistic element.”

“Mm, that’s what I thought.”

There was a local cave system that Jim hadn’t been able to investigate on his first trip out; they were meant to be checking it from a safe distance to see what the tricorder could pick up. Unfortunately, there was some component of the scrubby groundcover surrounding them that was blocking their readings – so they were going to check it from a slightly closer distance and see what their eyes could pick up.

She sensed T’Pring about to ask a question three times before she finally said, “I have a query as well.”

She took a deep breath. There was a reason she didn’t tell people about her maybe-time-travel. First they were curious, and then they were suspicious. Did she know about this bad thing that happened? What about that war, this natural disaster, the death of someone they loved? Why didn’t she stop it?

“It must have been disconcerting, to find yourself as a child again,” T’Pring said slowly. “You had a home, a career, plans for your life, and then you had them suddenly and inescapably altered. How did you reconcile your previous experiences with your new reality?”

It was so far from what she’d been expecting that she nearly tripped over a rock, and T’Pring reached out to steady her. “Disconcerting,” she repeated, giving herself a few extra seconds to think. “That’s certainly one word for it, even though it probably wasn’t one I would have used at the time. My parents said it was like I became a different person overnight.”

T’Pring eyed her carefully, clearly sensing her discomfort. “There is no requirement to discuss this topic further, unless you wish to do so.”

Did she? For once, she thought she actually did. “I’d like to,” she said. “I want to tell someone, at least once.”

“In that case, I would be honored to be that someone.”

She swallowed hard, and took a deep breath. “It was hard. I kept searching for an explanation, some kind of reason for it to have happened. I wanted it to have a purpose – it was very isolating, and I think every kid wants to feel special, you know? I thought maybe I was supposed to change things.”

“As a child, your ability to enact change would be limited by the perception of your youth,” T’Pring said.

“Yeah, that’s a very polite way of putting it. I did try. Most humans don’t have perfect recall, but I thought – maybe I remembered enough; maybe I could help.”

She sighed. “In retrospect, it was probably lucky no one listened to me; plenty of dangerous people would have been very interested in a child who could guess the future, even if they were wrong a lot.”

T’Pring looked at her and raised one eyebrow. “And were you?”

“Wrong a lot? Oh yeah.” She shrugged. “It’s what made me think it might not be time travel at all, or that maybe other people had come back too.”

“Did you attempt to find out?”

She spread her hands out to the sides. “How? I have no idea how it happened to me, or what elements of it could have been repeated. Did multiple people travel to the same point in the timeline? To their own timeline at a specific age? How would I even begin to start asking those questions without getting all the wrong kinds of attention?”

She leaned back to look at the sky. “Eventually, I realized that things had changed so much, I could only make guesses of what might happen, or when. And really, don’t we all have the ability to do that? All of us make choices based on what we think the future might hold. Sometimes we’re right, and sometimes we’re wrong.”

“The universe is vast, and all of us are so tiny, but we care so much,” T’Pring said, and she startled. “That is what you said to Spock.”

“Yes. Did he tell you about that?”

“I saw it, during the bonding.” T’Pring hesitated, and then added, “Thank you. You provided invaluable support at a time he would not have accepted it from anyone else.”

“Did we all experience the bonding differently?” She realized immediately the question was too vague. Of course they’d all experienced it differently; they were still different people, for all that they now shared a stronger connection. “Did we all see different things?”

“I am uncertain,” T’Pring said. “To use an imprecise metaphor, I believe we all had access to the same ‘database’ of information, but each of us would have been drawn to different areas.”

“Like flipping through images quickly – different ones would catch each person’s attention,” she guessed, and T’Pring nodded.

“Precisely. I have struggled to understand Spock’s desire to leave Vulcan, and to spend so much of his time among Humans. Therefore I was drawn to memories from each of you which explored that question.”

“Did you come to any conclusions?”

“The conclusions I have reached have led me to more questions,” T’Pring said, with a finality that discouraged any further discussion.

“That’s common with things involving Humans.” She looked sideways at T’Pring, and found her looking back. “I know I’ve mentioned it before, but some things are easier when you do them together. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here. You know where to find me.”

T’Pring smiled. “Of that, I am quite certain.”


Chapter 28

The caves were reassuringly standard by all the measurements they could think of, so they headed back to the ship. Hopefully Jim and Spock had stopped arguing and moved onto repairs at some point.

Jim greeted them immediately when they stepped back into the ship. “So I can definitely still read your minds from a distance, just as a random statement, definitely not in reference to anything specific. Also, I think we can fix the communications system.”

She wondered at first if he was reminding her that conversations with any of them weren’t exactly private anymore, but the way T’Pring was suddenly very deliberately focused on something else made her think that wasn’t it. A mystery for another time, maybe.

She looked at Jim instead. “You don’t sound very happy about that.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, I’m not sure it’s going to help us to have it working. The signal’s not going to be very strong, and the sensors aren’t picking up any subspace relays close enough to catch it. We want it to reach someone we like, not just broadcast that we’re defenseless to anyone who might happen to pass by.”

Spock had just stepped into the cockpit, and he went still – more still than usual, which was impressive. “What if we used a different subspace frequency?” He bent over the console and started typing. When he moved back again, Jim’s eyes were wide.

“Did you just invent a new subspace frequency that can transmit messages faster and requires less relay boosting?”

“No,” Spock said, and she could see his fingers tightening to a fist. “I did not invent it,” he clarified, when Jim started to protest. “A child did, and gave it to me. I thought – to share one of his creations with the Federation, would be a way to honor his memory.”

Spock’s determination echoed through his words, and she nodded. It was T’Pring who thought to ask the practical question. “Will anyone be monitoring this frequency?”

“I have communicated with several colleagues about the feasibility and ramifications of sharing this development. The likelihood of constant monitoring is – low. However, I anticipate they would check this frequency once word of our disappearance spreads.”

In other words, it could be a while, but it was better than the nothing they had otherwise.

They compiled a brief message – nothing that would give away their identities or location, but with enough information that it wouldn’t be dismissed out of hand. Almost immediately, there was a chirp from the console, and Jim looked at it in surprise.

“Did it bounce back?” she asked.

Jim shook his head. “Someone’s calling us. On the new frequency. Audio only; source is unknown.” He looked at the rest of them, and she shrugged. He shrugged back, and let the call connect.

”Hi, Lieutenant Spock! This is so exciting; I can’t believe you remembered the subspace frequency I created!”

They all stared at Spock, who was staring at the console. “Um, hello?” she said, trying not to be too distracted by the way Spock’s mind was racing in a dozen directions at once, trying to form a hypothesis about what was happening.

”Hi Nurse Chapel! Did you call to talk to me too?”

“We actually didn’t know you were going to be able to talk to us,” she said. “Are you all right?”

”Well, I’m kind of busy right now,” he said, and his voice sounded exactly as she remembered – that same reluctance to stop doing something fun combined with an absolute confidence in his own abilities.

”Did Captain Pike tell you? I’m a whole planet now, so that’s given me a lot more things to learn. And I have so many friends now! There’s all kinds of beings in the universe that my teachers never told me about.”

“We did not know,” Spock said carefully. “We requested information, but it was incomplete, and we were unaware of – your status.”

”It’s okay to say you thought I died; that’s what I thought too at first. But if you didn’t know, why did you call? Did you give someone else the frequency too?”

Spock looked like he needed some time to process, so she said, “Is that something you’d like?”

”Oh, sure, that would be neat. I’ll probably come up with something better, though.” Without any pause, he continued, ”Were you calling for help? Why? What kind of help? I could probably do it.”

“Is there any way you could assist us in sending an encrypted message to the Enterprise?”

”That’s your ship, right? Why would you need to – oh, you’re far apart! Sure, that’s easy. I thought maybe you needed something hard. Do you want me to connect you to them now?”

“We’d be happy to keep talking with you instead,” she said.

”Well, I really do have a lot of things to check on. But – maybe we could talk again sometime?”

“Of course,” she said automatically. “Any time you want.”

”Okay! Here’s the Enterprise; they were simple to find. Next time you should have a harder problem to solve, and we can talk longer!”

She didn’t even have time to question how he was going to – what, transfer the call to the Enterprise? – before the connection was accepted, and they heard, ”Lieutenant Spock? Are you all right? That is, let me get Acting Captain Ortegas for you, sir.”

That had to be Uhura. There was a pause, and then Erica’s voice came through. ”Lieutenant Spock! Is everything all right? We weren’t expecting to hear from you. Were we?”

Spock visibly pulled himself together. “You would not have had any reason to do so, no. I am well, as are the others who departed the outpost with me.”

“Hi Erica,” she called. “How’s the Acting Captain job going?”

”Not a single scratch on the paint job,” Erica said. ”Are you on your way back already?”

“Not exactly,” she said. “That’s why we called, actually.”

Spock gave a brief outline of what they’d been doing since they left the Enterprise – very brief, in all areas related to his health and their current bond. He was much more detailed with everything related to the warp trap, Angel’s threats, and the moon they currently found themselves on.

Erica whistled when he was done. ”You guys have all the fun.”

Spock clearly had no intention of replying, so she said, “We’d be happy to pick you up a souvenir, just as soon as we find the gift shop.”

”Well, we’d love an excuse to leave our current mission of doing absolutely nothing,” Erica said. ”But we’ve been ordered to stay put. The Captain’s cooking up some kind of plan with the other captains to help with the situation that came up before you left. No one tells us anything, but we hear it’s going well. Are you in immediate danger?”

She sounded like she hoped the answer was yes.

“Unlikely,” Spock answered. “We have sufficient supplies to remain here for several weeks, and we now have the ability to communicate with the Enterprise should our circumstances change.”

”I’ll see if we can get in contact with anyone else in the area,” Erica said. ”La’an might be able to come get you.”

“You’ve heard from her?”

”She’s been in contact,” Erica said vaguely. There was clearly more going on than she was sharing, but there was also clearly a limit on what she was willing to say over a comm channel, and there wasn’t anything they could do about it from their current location anyway.

“Please keep us informed as to your progress,” Spock said.

”Will do, sir. We’ll get you out of there.”


Chapter 29

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

Spock gave her a bland look that she now knew was half habit, half invitation to share the joke. “To what aspect of our meetings are you referring?”

“I know it’s fun to tease,” she said, suddenly curious. “Believe me, I get that. But it’s more than that for you, isn’t it?” She was starting to recognize the hint of something else that popped up whenever Spock questioned a reference.

He took the chair next to hers. “It is not a simple answer.”

“Most things aren’t,” she agreed. She gestured at the darkened cockpit. It was several hours into what they’d decided was nighttime, and she’d been too restless to stay in the living area. “I’ve got time if you do.”

There was a long moment when Spock seemed to be gathering his thoughts. Finally, he said, “I am familiar with many Human idioms, but their usage remains a source of conflict for me. Most Humans overlook the ubiquity of the Universal Translator, and disregard the research showing that lack of cultural context can make translated language unclear, or even incomprehensible.”

She nodded. “That comes up a lot in medical journals – it’s a concern for the wording of research surveys in particular.”

“Indeed. I am aware that Humans often use these expressions to encourage a sense of camaraderie and inclusion. Just as often, they are not considering those things at all. They simply use the words and language that come naturally to them, and assume that they are in the company of those who will either understand or be willing to adapt.”

Along with the words came the sense-memories of Spock’s experiences – the alternating feelings of ostracization and welcome, of trying to discern the difference between being included versus being overlooked. She nodded again, and hoped Spock’s night vision was good enough to pick it up.

“It’s two ways of looking at the same situation – is it trust in your ability to adapt, or taking for granted your willingness to do so?”

“And it is rarely as simple as only one or the other,” Spock agreed. “My choices in speaking and reacting have a similar duality. There is an element of trust; a confidence that those around me will – to use a Human expression, ‘meet me halfway.’ And it is also a way to offer a reminder that the Human way of speaking should not be assumed as the default.”

Spock hesitated, but didn’t say anything else. She waited.

When she got tired of waiting, she said, “I doubt you came out here to talk to me about communication styles.”

“That was not my original intention, no.”

“Let me guess – the others wanted to know what I was doing, and you got the short straw. You know that one?”

“I am familiar with the phrase. However, it was not the short straw, but the long one, in this case. T’Pring and Jim both wished to come, but I – convinced them to allow me the opportunity.”

“Why?”

“You have provided me with valuable advice on multiple occasions. I would be remiss in my duties as a friend if I did not offer the same to you.”

She could absolutely imagine T’Pring sending Spock articles about how to build a healthy relationship. “There’s no balance sheet required in friendship, Spock. It can be whatever you want it to be. But if you’re offering, sure, I could use some advice.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I always thought – how could I have a genuine romantic relationship with someone, when I was hiding a huge part of my life. My past is part of my –” She waved a hand at herself. “My context; what makes me who I am.”

She shrugged. “So I made sure my relationships have been strictly casual; everyone has fun, no one gets committed. I’ve always made that clear with my partners. I allowed that decision to become easy; something I didn’t need to think about, because that’s just the way it was.”

“And now?”

“Now it’s hard again. Everything feels uncertain. Doesn’t mean it’s bad, just means I need time to work through it.”

Spock was quiet for a moment. And then he said, “And is that what you are doing? Or are you avoiding coming to a decision because you think we would be better without you?”

She flinched. “Ouch. Don’t hold back on my account.”

“It is not my intention to cause you distress,” Spock said.

“No, that was fair.” She sighed. “We’re all carrying around a lot of history. Sometimes that gets in the way of me being able to see what’s right in front of me.”

She owed it to them, and to herself, to be honest. So she added, “You and T’Pring are so good together; you challenge each other in all the best ways. And Jim – he looks at you like he’s been waiting his whole life to be back at your side. It’s a little bit – in the presence of legends, you know? And I’m not sure if I can measure up to that.”

“Who do you believe is doing the measuring?” Spock asked.

The question took her by surprise, but Spock kept going. “You have chosen us; we have chosen you. The shape and trajectory of our relationships with each other are not things to be measured, but experienced. Love is not a finite resource.”

“When did you get so wise?” she asked.

She could feel his pointed look even though it was too dark to see it, and he said, “When I allowed myself to accept help from others, who support and encourage me in my goals.”

She laughed. “I’ve been outplayed and I could not be prouder.” She was fairly sure she could use her mental awareness of him to pat his shoulder without needing to see him, so she reached out. Carefully. “Seriously, Spock. Thank you.”

“Christine,” he said seriously. “You have encouraged me to embrace uncertainty as a path towards understanding. While the short-term effects have occasionally been unexpected, I believe the long-term benefits have been more than worth the effort.”

He put his hand on top of hers, and the touch sent little sparklers of happiness fizzing through her brain. “We have successfully formed a platonic bond. It does not need to change, now or in the future. If you have concerns about introducing a physical aspect to your relationship with any of us –”

She cut him off. “Definitely not the issue.” She dropped her hand and leaned back in her seat. “So not the issue. If we were strangers, you and I would be having a very different conversation right now.”

Spock hesitated again, and then he said, “Just you and I?”

“Have you heard the phrase ‘fishing for compliments’? Let’s just say, I wouldn’t kick any of you out of bed for eating crackers. Sardines, maybe.”

Spock seemed to consider her words. “We do not have any sardines among the rations available on this ship.”

She laughed. With the path they were on, there was going to be uncertainty no matter what. She could embrace it alone, in the dark, or she could embrace it in the company of people she’d chosen, who had chosen her back. Maybe the choice had been that easy all along.

She stood up. “Well, in that case, lead the way, Mr. Spock.”


Chapter 30

They’d agreed to a daily check-in with the Enterprise, but they were prepared to settle in for a wait. “It’s like camping,” Jim said. “Who doesn’t like camping?”

“I do not,” T’Pring replied immediately.

“I am unclear as to how our current situation resembles camping,” Spock added, which was so blatantly untrue that even T’Pring raised an eyebrow.

“I went camping once,” she said. “It was a sleep-away camp, and one of the kids thought it would be fun to sneak out at night – we got caught almost immediately, but we told them we’d gotten lost looking for the bathroom, and they gave us cookies. It caught on, and eventually all the kids and counselors were meeting in the kitchen every night for midnight cookies.”

“Smart,” Jim said, and she could tell T’Pring was about to ask about the logic of rewarding children for breaking the rules.

Except she didn’t, because the chirp of an incoming call put them all on alert. “We’re not scheduled for a check-in now,” Jim said.

The thought occurred to all of them at once, or maybe just one of them who was thinking very loudly – had Angel returned? Jim shook his head, and the call connected.

”This is the Enterprise; we’re entering transporter range now. Are you ready to be rescued?”

Jim frowned. “We’re happy to hear from you, Enterprise, but surprised. We weren’t expecting you – anything we should know about?”

”There was a change of plans. It can wait until you’re all back onboard; we’ve got a diplomatic envoy that’s eager to speak with you. We’ll beam you up at your signal.”

The call disconnected. “Well, that’s not ominous at all,” Jim said. “Do you think they’ll send a shuttle to pick up the ship?”

“They will certainly see the logic in doing so,” Spock said, and it was obvious that he was willing to make them see that logic, if necessary.

Things didn’t get any clearer when they beamed onboard. For one thing, there was an unfamiliar Vulcan standing next to Erica in the transporter room.

“Spock!” Effusive wasn’t typically a word she associated with Vulcans, and yet it was definitely the only way to describe the greeting. “I’m so happy to see that you’re safe!”

“Sybok,” T’Pring said flatly. “What are you doing here?”

The Vulcan – Sybok, apparently, and she wasn’t sure which of them was the most surprised – spread his hands out wide and said, “T’Pring, the question you should be asking is ‘what would I be doing anywhere else’? I heard my little brother was in trouble, so of course I rushed right out here to help!”

Erica was looking back and forth between them. “Lieutenant Spock?” she said finally.

“This is not a diplomatic envoy,” Spock said. “He is my brother, Sybok.”

“Older brother,” Sybok clarified.

“Half-brother,” Spock countered, and Sybok sighed loudly.

Chief Kyle’s eyes were wide as he pretended to ignore them; he was probably already sending the details of the encounter to half the ship. Erica pretended not to see him in return, and pointed at the security team. “Security, escort our guest back to his quarters. The rest of you – briefing room.”

Things continued to remain unclear in the briefing room. One of them was starting to get a headache; she thought it might be T’Pring.

“I’m just saying, a Vulcan flew up in a diplomatic shuttle and requested a meeting; it didn’t seem that weird. What was I supposed to do? Ignore him? He said he was a diplomatic envoy and had the files to back it up.”

Spock inclined his head slightly. “Approving a meeting was clearly the logical course of action,” he said.

Erica waved a hand at him. “Thank you! Anyway, once he was onboard he said that the Klingon monks on Borath had sent him, and he had an important message that involved time crystals that he could only deliver to you, face to face. And that he needed to do it as soon as possible.”

“And you believed him?” T’Pring’s expression didn’t show even a hint of her skepticism; it was impressive.

Erica’s voice took on a somewhat guilty tone. “Not exactly? I mean, it seemed pretty likely he was lying, but what if he wasn’t? The time crystals are so classified I’m still looking up regulations to see if I need to officially reprimand myself for hearing about them.”

She shrugged. “And I wasn’t exactly unhappy to have a reason to come get you. No one liked sitting around while you all were out here on your own.”

“We appreciate the pick up,” Jim said. “Still a little confused about Sybok’s motivation, though. I thought he was –”

The benefit of a telepathic bond was that they all knew what he meant, which saved Jim from having to think of a tactful way to say ‘incarcerated.’

“His estrangement from our family was of his own volition,” Spock said. “As was his presence at the Ankeshtan K’Til retreat. As he has shown, once he has made a decision, he will not be dissuaded by any traditional means.”

Erica frowned. “Is that how that place is supposed to work? I thought it was a prison.”

T’Pring folded her hands on the table. “It is not a prison; it is a rehabilitation center. But no,” she conceded. “That is not how it is supposed to work.”

“Are we going to get in trouble for having him here? Are you?” Erica looked at Spock. “Is he a danger to the crew?”

She wasn’t expecting Spock’s hesitation, or for T’Pring to step in. “Sybok is a – unique case. You will not receive any trouble from Vulcan for hosting him, though I would not expect them to acknowledge his presence or offer support in any attempts to remove him.”

Spock added, “I do not believe that Sybok himself would harm any of the crew; however, his presence here may indeed put all of us in danger. We know that in the past, he has had contact with the pirate Angel, who knows him as Xaverius. It is logical to assume that they continue to have some means of communication.”

“We haven’t picked up any unauthorized transmissions,” Erica said.

“Nor did we,” T’Pring told her.

“Angel was responsible for our presence on this moon, and Sybok arrived at the Enterprise soon after. While it is possible that his intentions include, as he stated, to verify my location and safety, it is unlikely to be his sole purpose in being here.”

“You think the pirates are coming back for him?”

“I do not know. But I think it is, as you might say, ‘a safe bet.’”

Erica nodded. “Sir, request permission to begin preparations.” Her expression was a mix of determination and anticipation. “I had some ideas after last time.”

“I support your decision to prepare the ship and crew,” Spock said mildly. “But as you are the Acting Captain, you do not require my permission.”

Erica stared at him. Spock stared back at her. Finally, Erica said, “Please tell me you’re going to take over as Acting Captain. You outrank me! It’s logical!”

Spock was very carefully not letting any of his feelings show in his face. “As my brother is involved, it would be best if I avoided the potential conflict of interest that being in command would create.”

“He means you’re doing fine,” she translated. She glanced around the table. “Also, he probably knew this was coming. I officially recommend that Lieutenant Spock and Lieutenant Kirk, along with myself, be placed on temporary medical leave.”


Chapter 31

As soon as they were behind the closed doors of Sickbay, Jim threw his hands up. “Why are we on medical leave? We’re all fine, and Ortegas could use some backup even if aren’t about to get attacked by pirates.”

She tried not to sigh – she hadn’t really thought she’d get out of needing to explain it, but a girl could hope. “Which is exactly why we’re officially on medical leave.”

She ticked the points off on her fingers one by one. “First, you think you’re fine; that doesn’t mean you’re actually fine. We never figured out why no one else was on that moon; we could all have been exposed to something and not even realized it.” The transporters could filter things out, but as Hemmer had proven, that wouldn’t help if the damage had already been done.

“Two, medical leave is standard for anyone who participates in a Vulcan bonding; it’s been part of the Federation charter since the beginning.” Spock inclined his head in agreement.

“Three, I’m not going to apologize for saving you from a court martial. Between the four of us, there’s enough classified information to make a room full of Admirals start sweating, and now we all have access to each others’ brains.”

“The Federation has protocols that offer protection to bonded groups,” Jim protested. “Just like Vulcan does.”

“Yes, and in order to claim that protection, we need to follow those protocols. That means medical leave.” Jim crossed his arms, and she crossed hers right back. “It’s not isolation; no one’s kicking you off the ship. What exactly is your problem with this?”

“I don’t like sitting around when people might be in danger!”

“Curious,” Spock said. “Why would you assume that you would be ‘sitting around’? We are officially on medical leave, but as you stated, we are capable of assisting. Acting Captain Ortegas is most certainly counting on our contribution.”

T’Pring looked up from the tablet she’d been reading. “Some of these ideas are – quite creative.”

Jim looked like he was rapidly re-thinking his understanding of the situation. “Right,” he said finally. “Okay, I see where you’re going with this. I like it. Let’s see these ideas.”

Their reprieve lasted long enough to combine prepping for Erica’s plans with a thorough set of medical scans from M’Benga – who declined to comment on their newly bonded status, but whose expression indicated she definitely owed him an explanation, and possibly several favors.

It did not last long enough for any of them to get some sleep. The red alert klaxons started blaring right at shift change, and the deck shuddered under their feet. More alarmingly, all the lights dimmed and flickered before returning to normal. “A power surge?” Jim guessed, and immediately bent over a screen to analyze it. Whatever it was, it set off a dozen more alerts around Sickbay – enough to almost drown out the sound of Spock patching through to the Bridge.

”A ship just dropped out of warp, almost right on top of us. Big ship. Absolutely bristling with weapons. They’ve got us in some kind of tractor beam. They’re hailing us.”

With a little creative programming, Jim had set the screen in M’Benga’s office to show whatever was on the Bridge viewscreen. At the moment, that was Angel – who had a blaster to their head and was being held by a hooded figure.

”Crew of the Enterprise,” Angel said loudly, interrupting Erica’s greeting. ”Prepare to be boarded.”

“Do you think it’s a trick?” Jim asked quietly. “They look injured.”

”What, just like that?” Erica asked. ”You’re not even going to buy us dinner first?”

”Oh, I think we’re past that point in our relationship, don’t you?”

She could imagine Erica leaning forward in the Captain’s chair, pulling attention to herself to stall for time. “I see you found some new friends. Did you tell them how we kicked your ass last time we met?”

”I’m not exactly leading this charge, as you can clearly see. But yes, I told them everything. Your location, your lack of a captain, your crew complement of 100, your incessant need to talk about everything. It was the logical choice, you understand.”

”Oh yeah? I heard you weren’t too interested in logic,” Erica said.

The blaster pressed closer to Angel’s head, and they flinched. ”The expedient choice, then. They captured me, threatened me; I offered them a better prize. They get the Enterprise; I get to keep my life.”

”That doesn’t seem like a fair trade to me,” Erica said.

”Maybe you haven’t heard – the universe doesn’t tend to care too much about playing fair.”

Spock and Jim were reviewing all the data the ship’s sensors were picking up. “Their tractor beam isn’t anything we’ve seen before,” Jim said quietly. “I don’t know what they’re powering that ship with, but it’s giving the sensors fits. Could be causing some kind of system interference.”

”I’m still stuck on you getting captured. I thought the Serene Squall was supposed to be the baddest thing around in this portion of the galaxy.”

Angel shrugged one shoulder, and Christine wondered if her hands were restrained. ”Oh, please. The very fact that you’ve heard of me means I leave survivors. These pirates? Not so much. They can and will overwhelm you with numbers. Anything you do to them, they do back, twice over. You hurt one of them, they hurt two of you. You kill one of them, they kill two of you. I recommend not fighting back.”

The transmission cut off.

“Fascinating.” Spock did genuinely look fascinated, and she did some deep breathing to avoid saying anything she’d regret.

“The Enterprise has more than a hundred crewmembers onboard,” she offered instead. “Is Angel – helping?”

“I estimate that approximately 33.2 percent of their words were intended as a coded message of sorts, likely not intended for us. Perhaps for Sybok, or some other ally with the ability to intercept our communications.”

The shaking had reduced to a vibrating hum, but it suddenly intensified with a series of muffled booms that made them all flinch. “The hull’s been breached,” Jim murmured. “Probably grappling hooks combined with boarding chutes.”

“Is that bad?” she asked, already dreading the answer.

He shrugged. “Depending on placement? It could rip the ship apart if we try to escape. We’re here till they decide to let us go.”

The noise stopped as abruptly as it started, and the silence that followed made her ears pop. Erica’s voice came over the internal comms. ”Attention all crew. Intruder alert. Ortegas-2 initiated. Do not engage. Repeat: Ortegas-2 initiated; do not engage. The Captain wants us all back in one piece.”


Chapter 32

“I did not realize that encounters such as this were so common within Starfleet. There is no record of any Vulcan vessel ever being boarded by pirates.”

T’Pring was upset about something, but she didn’t think it was actually the pirates. “I can’t tell if you’re insulting Starfleet, or trying to entice us to sign on with a Vulcan ship.”

“It can be both,” T’Pring said flatly, and she couldn’t resist poking a little.

“Also, that’s a bold claim that I think needs some kind of asterisk, since Vulcans have been directly involved in at least one of the Enterprise’s pirate encounters, possibly two.”

She didn’t ask ‘what’s really bothering you,’ but she was thinking it pretty loudly, and T’Pring sighed. “I recognize that this is a logical division of labor at this time,” she said.

Ah. “But you still wish you were out there.”

They were in the most secure medical isolation room; the same one where Hemmer was still unconscious. Sickbay as a whole was locked down, but if that failed, Plan B was hoping the pirates would sweep through Sickbay quickly and be smart enough to avoid any rooms marked with the contagion symbol.

Plan C was to stun any pirates that breached the door and then retreat to the Jefferies tubes. Plan D was surrender, but that would leave Hemmer unprotected, and they were still arguing about whether it would be safe to put him back in the medical transporter buffer with the power surges still unexplained. There had been two more since the group had split up.

T’Pring looked at the door. “I prefer not to spend my time waiting.”

“While I acknowledge and admire that you are an action-oriented person, I think you and I may have different definitions of ‘waiting.’ And as one of the people you’re currently protecting, I’m a little offended.”

T’Pring startled. “That was not my intention.”

“No, I didn’t think it was.” She also wasn’t entirely sure they were talking about just their current tasks. “Can I offer some food for thought?”

“I welcome your insights,” T’Pring said, inclining her head in agreement.

“So, the thing about waiting is that you’re almost always doing other things at the same time.” She nodded towards the door. “Protecting. Learning. Changing. And the whole time, you’re living with the consequences of your choice to wait.”

She shook herself out of getting lost in her own experiences, and said, “The point is, waiting isn’t passive; it’s active, and it’s usually a choice. Don’t put the weight of that choice on someone else – only you get to decide if you want to carry it or set it down.”

T’Pring stared at her. “Once again, you show a depth of insight regarding others that you fail to use for your own benefit.”

She laughed. “Good thing I have all of you to return the favor, then. Any truths you’d like to lay on me?”

The chip of the communicator saved her from whatever T’Pring was going to say next. ”We’re at the junction; we have eyes on the pirates. All armed. Spock’s calculating how many there are likely to be.”

There was a noise from behind her, and she spun automatically to point her phaser at the biobed. Hemmer stared at her, and then at T’Pring, whose phaser was still aimed at the door. He carefully raised his hands. “Don’t shoot?” he said. “Perhaps someone could explain what is going on.”

“Hemmer, thank god,” she said. Her brain instantly switched into nursing mode. “How are you feeling?”

“Confused. But physically, I believe my body is functioning within acceptable limits.”

“Great, hold this.” She handed him the communicator and started checking his readings. “We’re currently being invaded by pirates, so we’ll have to put off your welcome back party. But this looks good. You should be fine even if we have to move to the Jefferies tubes.”

Hemmer held up the communicator and tilted his head to the side in a clear question. “With whom am I communicating?”

“Jim Kirk,” she said. “Sam’s brother? He was on the Farragut before. He’s with Spock. And this is T’Pring. We’re bonded.” She nodded over her shoulder.

Hemmer stared at her. “How long was I unconscious?”

She stared back. Somehow she wasn’t entirely sure of the answer. “A few weeks? It’s just been a really busy few weeks.”

”We caught most of that,” Jim said. ”Good to hear you’re awake, Chief Hemmer; I’ve heard nothing but good things about you.”

“And I’ve heard nothing at all about you, but I suppose being in a coma does provide a reasonable excuse for these things.” Hemmer turned his attention back to her. “Where is Captain Pike?”

She hesitated. “That’s – also a long story. He’s not on the Enterprise right now; neither is Number One. Starfleet stuck its nose in where it wasn’t wanted and decided it had a problem with her being Illyrian. Captain Pike is trying to make sure they know they’ve kicked over a hornet’s nest, and all the hornets are on his side.”

“Ah. I expected that situation might catch up to them at some point.”

She wasn’t sure whether the ‘them’ was Starfleet, or Captain Pike and Number One, but figuring it out didn’t seem like the most pressing concern. “Exactly. And Spock is on medical leave while we get the bond sorted out, so Erica is in charge right now.”

She didn’t entirely feel capable of summarizing everything else that had happened. Luckily, Hemmer seemed willing to roll with the situation as it was. “And Lieutenant Ortegas managed to encounter pirates,” he said. “And these pirates have boarded the ship? With what goal?”

“We’re still working on figuring that out. Possibly possession of the Enterprise itself. Our source of information isn’t exactly what you’d call reliable.”

Jim’s voice came from the communicator again. ”The pirates have moved through this area; Ortegas’ plan seems to be working for now. They’re collecting anyone they find in a corridor or in a room where the door opens automatically, but they haven’t been breaking open the locked rooms. Not yet, anyway.”

“Where are they taking the crew?” Hemmer asked.

“They’re splitting them up between the cargo bays; we’re trying to determine if there’s a pattern. The pirates don’t seem to speak in any way the universal translator can recognize. They have Angel speaking for them, but it’s impossible to know how accurately –”

The words cut off with a clatter, like the communicator had been dropped. Just as quickly, JIm was back. ”Sorry about that. Sybok just showed up. Spock stunned him.”

There were more muffled sounds, and then Jim said, ”Slight change in plans. We’re headed back to you.”

Hemmer frowned. “Who is Sybok?”

“Spock’s brother,” she said.

Hemmer startled, and then sighed. “Of course,” he said resignedly. “Are there any other family members who have unexpectedly joined us, or is that all of them?” He waved a hand without waiting for an answer. “Never mind; don’t tell me. I’ll just let it be a surprise.”


Chapter 33

Sybok was awake by the time they made it back to Sickbay. “You shot me!”

Spock raised one eyebrow. “The phaser was set to stun. You were causing a disturbance that could have revealed our location to the invading force.”

“I was being extremely stealthy.”

Jim looked skeptical. “We’re still not sure you’re on our side. You’re lucky we brought you along at all.”

Sybok rolled his eyes. “What choice did you have? You’re not going to turn me over to them now that I’ve seen all of you, and I’m not going to sit in my room while my little brother fights space pirates. And obviously, I’m on the side of my brother’s happiness, which makes all of this –” He pointed from Jim to Spock to T’Pring to her, and then circled his finger to encompass all of them. “–of great interest to me.”

He moved his finger back to her and frowned. “Who are you?”

T’Pring stepped in front of her. “I encourage you to rethink your line of questioning,” she said.

Sybok put his hands up. “Sure,” he said easily. “It can wait.”

“Help me up,” Hemmer said, and she and Spock both moved to assist him. He moved carefully, but waved them off once he was standing. “I’ll live,” he said. “You mentioned that Acting Captain Ortegas has a plan?”

“Yes,” Spock said. “We will brief you on the way.”

“All of us?” T’Pring asked.

“As Captain Pike has often said, our strength lies in our ability to work together. Now that Chief Hemmer is awake, there is no reason to remain apart.” He and T’Pring looked at each other, and exchanged what had to be an entire conversation’s worth of information in the time it took her to grab a tricorder.

They made their way – only somewhat stealthily, despite Sybok’s claims – to the largest Jefferies tube junction. She was relieved to see Nyota and Chief Kyle already there. If they were still at large, that was a good sign for Erica’s plan.

“Hemmer!” Nyota kept her exclamation quiet, but her smile was huge. “It’s good to see you back on your feet, sir.”

“It’s good to be on them,” Hemmer said.

The chain of command in the situation wasn’t entirely clear, with both Spock and Hemmer technically on medical leave – Chief Kyle looked back and forth between them hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure which one he should be addressing.

He looked relieved when Spock stepped forward, “Chief Kyle, you have a report?”

“I do, sir. We’ve made contact with several dozen members of the crew. Each of them has confirmed that they have access to basic necessities and have avoided all contact with the invading force.”

Nyota made a noise, and Spock turned his attention to her. “It’s just – it’s the cat, sir. It keeps getting out.”

“The cat,” Spock repeated.

“The ensigns have a cat,” she told him. “It’s been approved.” Sort of.

“We don’t think the pirates have actually seen it, sir,” Uhura offered. “But they’ve seen the doors opening and closing.”

Hemmer looked like he might be doing whatever the Aenar equivalent of praying for patience might be. “And how is the cat opening and closing doors during a shipwide lockdown?” he asked.

Uhura’s eyes flicked to Chief Kyle. “The engineers built it a collar,” Chief Kyle said. “I, ah, think they may have gone a little overboard on the permissions.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “So it would seem. Cadet Uhura, what was the reaction of the invaders to these – doors opening and closing? Your ‘best guess,’ if you would.”

“Non-hostile,” Uhura said immediately, which was interesting. “No weapons fire or other reactions we would typically classify as aggressive, such as hitting the doors or walls. The universal translator still hasn’t made any progress determining how they might be communicating, but I’d say their reactions indicated nervousness. They were jumpy, sir.”

Sybok, who had been poking at a wall panel with every appearance of ignoring all of them, suddenly looked interested. “Oh, I know this one,” he said. “Angel’s done this before. The cat was a lucky find – did Angel know there was a cat?”

“Angel has done what before?” Spock said.

“I thought you were a genius; you haven’t figured it out yet?”

She felt a surge of anger that was suppressed too quickly for who to tell who it came from. They were all feeling the effects of too much tension and not enough sleep. “Hey,” she said, glaring at Sybok. “Share it or shut it; you can bicker later.”

“Oh? Is that the rule?” Sybok looked amused, and she was pretty sure the desire to hit him was all her own.

“That’s the rule,” she agreed.

“Well, in that case – Angel told your invaders that the ship is haunted. It’s a standard ruse – it makes them distracted. Jumpy, as you said. Gives them an alternate reason for anything on the ship they can’t explain, like doors opening and closing, or hidden crewmembers planning a revolt.”

“The ship is not haunted,” Spock said flatly. He had both hands behind his back and was staring at the side of the Jefferies tube. As privately as she could, she wondered how someone who’d seen the things Spock had could make that claim sound so confident.

Sybok raised both eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

Chief Kyle cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t say the ship is completely – not haunted.”

Even Hemmer gave a reluctant nod. “It’s certainly not entirely free of energetic influences that are beyond our current ability to explain through science.”

All of which was fascinating, but Spock looked like he was about thirty seconds from throttling his brother. She looked at T’Pring for help, but T’Pring was looking back at her. She thought ‘help Spock’ as clearly as she could in T’Pring’s direction, and stepped forward to give them a distraction.

She raised her hand. If one of them needed to make a scene to give Spock a chance to get himself together, she was more than capable. “Hey, wow, yeah. That’s a lot to take in. Haunted, huh? Are we talking more like a Human Standard kind of haunted, with the spirits of the deceased, or more of a Federation Standard metaphorical ‘ghost in the machine’ sort of haunting? Uhura, you’re the linguistics expert; what’s your take on this?”

And bless Nyota for being able to read the room; she took on the challenge gracefully. She gestured around the Jefferies tube and looked up, drawing everyone’s gaze towards the ceiling. “The word haunted is absolutely one that is highly dependent on cultural context, but there’s a surprising amount of overlap seen in cultures and planets throughout the Federation.”

She patted the wall. “In this case, it’s hardly a surprise that the Enterprise would take on certain characteristics we associate with an anthropomorphized spirit. Because of us – all of us. She hurtles us to the stars and we call her home. We sweat and bleed and cry for her, and in return, she witnesses all of our triumphs and defeats, all of our hardest and most precious moments.”

Nyota smiled. “What is a place like that, if not a temple? And where a temple exists, a spirit will fill it – whether you believe that comes from the living, the dead, or something else in the vast unknown expanse of the universe.”

There was a long silence.

It was Jim who finally broke it. “Thank you,” he said. Then he patted the wall too and repeated, “Thank you.”

He turned to the rest of them. “Okay, hear me out – I think the haunting angle could work to our advantage.” He looked at Chief Kyle. “You could get a message to the rest of the crew, right? Ask them to talk about it, play it up a little?”

Chief Kyle nodded. “Sure.”

“Good.” Jim looked at Spock, who nodded. “In the meantime, we need somewhere we can hunker down; Sickbay is too obvious a target.”

Hemmer leaned a bit more obviously on the wall and said, “I agree. We need access to information, and eventually we’re going to need to sleep, and I’d prefer not to do that in a Jefferies tube.”

“It needs to be somewhere that’s secure, but large enough that other people can join us if we need to discuss strategy in person.”

She stepped in. “And it needs to be somewhere with food, and some type of facilities for bathing. No storage rooms.”

JIm looked at Spock again. “Any suggestions?”


Chapter 34

“This is not where I expected you to suggest.”

Spock raised one eyebrow. “Captain Pike had made this space publicly accessible to the crew at more than a dozen locations since you arrived onboard. It seemed to be the logical solution.”

She pointed at him. “I agree completely, as long as I don’t have to be the one to explain to him why we turned his quarters into a secret hideout.”

Spock’s voice was dry when he replied, “I expect the takeover of the ship and subsequent recovery will be the primary focus of the Captain’s attention at that time.”

She paused. “Are you suggesting we just – don’t tell him?” Maybe she had overestimated T’Pring’s ability to pull Spock back to his usual equilibrium. No, not her ability. Her willingness; that might be more likely.

Spock blinked. “I am following standard incident report protocol, which suggests maintaining a clear timeline of events by minimizing extraneous details.”

She wasn’t convinced that ‘we used your quarters as a secret hideout’ was really an extraneous detail, but she was fine with pretending it was if Spock was too. “Are you sure you just didn’t want a bunch of extra people in your quarters?” she asked.

Spock surprised her by nodding. “That was also a factor in my considerations, yes.”

Jim stuck his head out from the kitchen. “Have you seen how much food Captain Pike has? There’s an entire walk-in pantry back here. And an extra refrigeration unit.”

“Captain Pike likes to cook,” she said. “Everyone needs a hobby.”

Jim’s expression was incredulous. “A hobby,” he repeated. “Sure. If that’s what you want to call it.”

The food was the good news. The bad news was that they still hadn’t managed to get any rest. At least Captain Pike’s quarters had a lot more room to spread out than the Jefferies tubes. And Hemmer could finally sit down, which meant M’Benga might only yell at her a little once they finally rescued him from the cargo bay.

“Should we wake him up for this?” Chief Kyle asked, pointing over his shoulder.

Because of course, one of them was managing to sleep. Sybok was on one of Captain Pike’s couches, sprawled out and snoring. He was either asleep or doing an incredibly annoying imitation.

“There is no need,” Spock said. She wondered if his answer was vague on purpose; maybe he didn’t know if Sybok was actually sleeping either.

The rest of them gathered in the dining area, and Jim handed out food. He was standing exactly in Captain Pike’s usual spot, and she wondered if it was coincidence, or if Spock had maneuvered him there.

Jim listed out their priorities. “We need information – what are the pirates doing now, and what are they planning to do next. There has to be a way to take control of the ship’s functions from somewhere other than Engineering or the Bridge.”

Hemmer shook his head. “Not on this type of ship; there isn’t anywhere else with the necessary controls.”

Jim frowned. “Isn’t La’an your Chief of Security? Lieutenant Noonien-Singh? She’ll have found a way.” He looked around at their doubtful expressions. “Trust me; it’s a Security Officer thing.”

“You know La’an?” she asked, at the same time Hemmer said, “You’ve done this on the Farragut?”

“Sure. We’ve met a few times,” Jim said, vague enough that he could be answering Hemmer’s question too, or maybe not. It was Uhura who managed to draw all their attention away by nodding.

“That makes sense,” she said. “That’s – security rule number eleven, right? Always have more than one backup plan.”

“Even if that were true, Lieutenant Noonien-Singh is not on board the Enterprise at this time,” Hemmer said.

“But her yeoman is.” Chief Kyle tapped his tablet. “We talked to them a few hours ago.”

Hemmer shook his head. “How will that help?”

She’d heard this speech before, but Chief Kyle was always happy to repeat it. He looked around the group. “Who has access to, say, the Captain’s quarters?”

“The Captain,” Spock replied. “Certain members of the senior staff may be able to open the doors with override codes.” He nodded in her direction. “Along with medical staff.”

“And the yeomen,” Chief Kyle added. “Yeomen go everywhere.”

Hemmer said, “Along with the ship’s cat, apparently.”

Chief Kyle said, “I’m sure the cat can’t get into the Captain’s quarters.” Chief Kyle didn’t look sure. He looked like he was hoping they would never need to test his statement, and ideally would forget all about it with everything else that was going on.

“Every member of the senior staff has a yeoman assigned to them. The yeoman’s job is to provide support as needed. And to file reports; a lot of reports. Tamura will know where Lieutenant Noonien-Singh spent her time, and have access to a record of all of her requisition requests.”

“It would at least help us narrow down the possibilities,” Hemmer said. “Where is this yeoman now? Do we need to go to them, or can they get here?”

“No need,” Chief Kyle said, already tapping away at his tablet. “I’ll just ask.”

“The ship’s communication network is locked down,” Spock said.

“Well, sure, but that’s only the Starfleet network; it shuts down for security reasons. The intranets are still running. I mean, the one intranet, singular, is still running. There’s definitely only one.”

Hemmer sighed. “Do you think the senior staff simply materialized in their roles?” he asked. “While I’m sure we all appreciate your attempt to provide plausible deniability, there’s no need. We were all cadets once.”

Spock was still frowning, though. “The intermittent power fluctuations the ship is experiencing should be disrupting any operational intranet, official or otherwise.”

Chief Kyle’s expression was pure innocence as he widened his eyes. “Huh. I guess we must have just gotten really lucky so far? Who knows why that might be the case. Maybe we’ll never know.”

Uhura looked at him like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “How do you ever get away with anything?” She seemed to have forgotten that anyone else was even in the room.

“It’s my youthful expression and short stature,” Chief Kyle told her earnestly. “I have one of those faces.”

She thought Spock must be mentally rolling his eyes, but outwardly he looked as calm as ever. “He does not,” he told Uhura. “However, the Captain believes that allowing the crew a certain amount of – flexibility in their adherence to various regulations fosters both creativity and camaraderie.”

“Tamura says she’s been ordered not to disclose the contents of the requisition forms,” Chief Kyle said.

Jim nodded. “Sounds right,” he said. “Can she tell us where the Lieutenant spent more time than usual recently?”

Chief Kyle looked at Hemmer, then Spock, who nodded. “She says the only place she’s been spending extra unaccounted-for time is the crew quarter levels – specifically, this deck.”


Chapter 35

It was late. Technically, that didn’t matter on a starship. The shift schedule meant someone was always sleeping, and someone was always working. Some ships maintained a simulated day/night light pattern, but the Enterprise wasn’t one of them. The corridors were always brightly lit, whether it was 1100 or 2300.

That didn’t mean they didn’t feel it, though. Circadian rhythms weren’t so easy to fool.

“You should sleep,” T’Pring said.

“You should sleep,” she countered nonsensically. “No, you’re right. I should sleep.”

Jim was asleep. He was on the other side of Spock, leaned up against his shoulder. For a while he’d been helping, but the pauses between his contributions had gotten longer and longer, until he was finally out.

She shuffled lower until she could rest her head on T’Pring’s thigh. Maybe she could close her eyes just for a little while; she could still hear everything that was going on. It was soothing, almost – the sounds of Spock and T’Pring tapping away on their tablets while she rested. If anyone could sort through the layers of security La’an had left, it was them.

She was pretty sure they were already in the right place, anyway. La’an wouldn’t have picked anywhere that wasn’t closely supervised by someone she trusted, and she trusted Una. She also wouldn’t have risked Una by putting technically-unauthorized control options in her quarters, but everyone knew the command team was close, and no one expected captains to follow all the rules anyway. And Captain Pike already had all that kitchen space.

What she wasn’t sure about was whether she’d put all that together herself, or if it was bleeding through from one of the others. When they were all close together like this, and so near to sleep, things tended to flow more freely between them. Ideas, feelings – she sensed Spock nudge Jim’s shoulder, and his dreams shifted back to flying through the stars.

“You’ve been quiet today,” she said, with her eyes closed.

“I am not a member of Starfleet,” T’Pring replied. “And I do not have relevant experience to contribute to the current situation.”

It went unsaid that as the one with the strongest mental discipline, T’Pring had also been busy keeping the rest of them steady. They should do something nice for her, after they took back the ship.

“You have also been quiet,” T’Pring prompted.

“Mm. The chain of command is already confused enough. Spock’s good at being the voice of reason. Jim’s good at pulling people together, and Hemmer doesn’t want to be in charge.” She tried to wave her hand, but T’Pring caught it gently and laid it on her knee, and she had to clear her throat before she could keep going.

“So. Technically, it should be Chief Kyle calling the shots, based on rank and active duty status.”

T’Pring seemed surprised. “That would be an inefficient use of resources.”

She wanted to laugh, but it felt like it would be too much work. “That’s ‘Fleet bureaucracy. It’s fine, there’s always been a lot of crisis situation exemptions. It’s just easier for everyone if we don’t make it harder for them, you know?”

She thought she might not have managed to get all of that out in a way that made sense, but probably T’Pring would understand either way. “Why do you not use Chief Kyle’s first name, when you do so with the others?” T’Pring asked. “Are you not friends with him as well?”

“We’re friends,” she said. “It’s our thing, though – the name thing. It’s –” She tried to think of a way to summarize, and finally gave up. “It’s a long story.”

“I see,” T’Pring said. For some reason her voice sounded amused. “I look forward to hearing it someday, perhaps at a time when you are fully awake.”

“I’m not asleep,” she said, or tried to say.

When she woke up again, Spock and T’Pring were talking quietly.

“The pirates have so far maintained a relatively stationary position close to the moon. Based on the records of their movement through the ship, it seems likely this was to establish their presence onboard and ensure the crew was accounted for.”

She heard the quiet tapping of a tablet being accessed. “This is the most recent data received. Given that their goal seems to be possession of the Enterprise, they will eventually attempt to move it. It is likely only the ongoing power incompatibility issues that have kept them from doing so already.”

“Indeed. They have already cut back searches and patrols, and focused attention on Engineering and the shuttle bays.”

So much for not having relevant experience to contribute. There was a pause, like they were both looking at something on the tablet, and then T’Pring said, “Will they have to separate the ships to move them?”

“Unknown. But unlikely. The grappling hooks appear to be designed for both stationary and mobile use.”

Jim’s voice came from the other side of Spock, still rough with sleep. “That would be too easy, huh?”

Well, if everyone else was awake – she opened her eyes and pushed herself mostly upright. The lights were still dim, and she wondered how early it was. T’Pring tipped the tablet towards her so she could read it, and she winced. Very early.

“These couches are not as comfortable for sleeping on as I would have thought,” she said.

“I will let Chris know he should consider that as a factor in any future selections,” T’Pring said, and she blinked.

“I dare you to tell him that to his face,” she said.

T’Pring raised one eyebrow. “That was my intention, yes.”

T’Pring sounded entirely serious. “I’ll look forward to that, then.” She stretched her neck from side to side, and tried to figure out what she was picking up from the bond. “Is there good news?” she guessed.

“We were able to access the ship’s controls,” T’Pring said. “Along with the internal security system.”

Spock added, “We have been observing the behavior of the invaders using the ship’s cameras. They have made progress resolving the power compatibility between the vessels, but they appear to be either unwilling or unable to operate the Enterprise themselves. This leaves them with few options other than compelling the Enterprise crew to do so for them.”

Jim nodded. “That’s our opportunity, then.”

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“Well, what would make you leave a ship? If you thought it was going to crash, right?” He looked like he was waiting for a response, so she nodded.

“Exactly,” Jim said. “If the pirates thought the ship was going to crash, they’d bail out. Hopefully. And the easiest way to make them think the ship is crashing? Is going to be to actually almost crash it into something.”

They were all silent as they thought about it. Finally, Spock said, “What do we need to do?”

Jim nodded. “Well, first we need a pilot.”


Chapter 36

Theoretically, you could access every level of the ship using the Jefferies tubes. Practically speaking, there was a reason they used turbolifts, and Starfleet included multiple layers of redundant security to stop people from stumbling into the wrong place at the wrong time.

“You know, this is actually where I ended up last time, too.”

She and Jim were paired up for the next phase of the plan. The Bridge and Engineering were both heavily guarded, as were a few other random locations they assumed Angel had told the pirates were important. But the cargo bays, full of restless crewmembers, had only minimal security.

Every few hours, the pirates would swap who was on guard duty. The timing wasn’t regular – sometimes it was every hour, sometimes it would go as long as six hours. Which meant they were stuck waiting, for as long as it took to get to a shift change. Then they would try to sneak Erica out of the cargo bay.

“Spock told me. He says you’re a menace with a medical injector and that I shouldn’t underestimate you.”

“That sounds like smart advice. Although I can’t imagine Spock using the word menace.”

“I may have paraphrased,” Jim agreed.

It wasn’t a fantastic plan. But it was the plan they had. They needed a pilot, and Erica was the best one on the ship. It was convenient that she was also the Acting Captain, and they should really be getting her permission for certain things.

Jim leaned back against the wall. “Can I ask you a question? It’s definitely only to satisfy my curiosity, fair warning.”

She looked at him, and he raised his eyebrows. She gestured for him to keep going. “Well, now you’ve made me curious. Sure.”

“Your last life,” Jim said. “You and I really weren’t friends? I feel like I missed out.”

She somehow felt like she should have expected that question. “Well, we weren’t not friends. But no, we were never very close. We were all different people, then. What did we have in common, other than serving on the Enterprise and having a crush on Spock?”

Jim perked up when she mentioned Spock, and she almost laughed. “Yeah, I wasn’t alone in my feelings. Me and Spock, you and Spock, T’Pring and Spock – it was always about Spock for us. I kind of assumed you and him had something together, after T’Pring broke off their engagement. He talked about you a lot, later on.”

“So you gossiped with Spock about me, but not with me about him?” Jim pretended to be offended, and she shook her finger at him.

“When you’re a senior citizen, it’s called reminiscing. Spock and I were friends, eventually. Once enough time had gone by for both of us to let some of the past go, I think. He made a point of looking up a lot of the old crew after you–” She hesitated.

“Died?” Jim guessed.

She shrugged. “That’s what the report said. Honestly, there were plenty of us who had our doubts. Practically half your file was redacted, even for someone with my clearance. The conspiracy theorists had a field day.”

“Sorry I can’t help clear up the mystery. My thing doesn’t really work like that.”

“A few mysteries in life are good for us, I think.” She told herself she should leave it at that. If he wanted to know more, it wasn’t like he didn’t know where to find her.

“Maybe,” Jim said. “You don’t strike me as someone who tends to hold back.”

She smiled. “That is a very generous way of describing my tendency to be the friend who blurts things out without thinking. For that, you get another free question, if you want it.” She knew that he did; she could feel it tickling at the edges of their connection.

When it came, he managed to surprise her again, because it wasn’t a question at all. “I heard what you said to Spock, about trying to help.” He was carefully avoiding her eyes.

“And we never have to talk about this again, but I just wanted to say – I know there was at least one situation when you did, and it made a difference. I don’t know how it happened in your last life, or how you knew what was going on, but – you did help. ”

She took a breath, and let it out slowly. There was really only one thing he could be talking about. “I eventually realized that Vulcans think any child who has the ability to call a starship also has the reasoning skills to only do it for a logical reason. I’m sorry it took so long.”

His mind switched from gray skies to blue, and back again. “It should never have been your responsibility to take on,” he said. “But thank you.” The sky returned to blue.

“Okay, how are you doing that? With the –” She pointed at her head, reconsidered, and switched to his.

“Therapy,” he answered. “Lots of therapy, and practice.”

His voice was light, but she thought he was being 100% honest. “Can you teach me?”

Jim looked thoughtful. “You know, I’m not sure? I can try. Spock and T’Pring would probably be better at it.”

“Better too many teachers than too few,” she told him. “Sometimes a variety of perspectives can provide the clarity that a single example lacks.”

“Oh, that’s nice – is that a Chapel original?”

“I wish. No, it’s from an article T’Pring sent me back when we were first getting to know each other.”

They were interrupted by a tapping sound on the access hatch – the signal for a guard change. She quickly entered the override codes that would open the entrance, and Erica slipped through. She couldn’t resist a quick hug, and Erica squeezed back tight enough that she knew it was a good idea.

“Any trouble getting away?” she asked.

Erica shook her head. “None. You?”

“They don’t seem to be patrolling the Jefferies tubes,” Jim explained. “It’s how we’ve been getting around.”

“I can’t believe they got the drop on us. They’re not even good at guarding! How is their ship so dangerous and they’re so –” Erica waved a hand back towards the cargo bay. “Like that?”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” she asked.

“It’s embarrassing, is what it is. I can’t believe this happened to us twice.”

“What’s the mood like in there?” Jim gestured with his thumb towards the cargo bay. “Everyone have enough food? Water?” They’d been getting updates through Chief Kyle, but it was different hearing it in person.

“Ration packs have been getting delivered twice a day,” Erica confirmed. “Morale is up and down, but everyone is staying calm. It would help to have more to do. We’re working the haunted ship angle as much as possible, but we could really use an engineer on our side. The cat’s not predictable enough, and I don’t want any of the crew to get caught.”

She realized they must have missed that at some point in the explanations. “We have one. Hemmer’s awake; he’s with us.”

Erica immediately brightened. “That’s great! What are we waiting for, then? Lead the way; let’s talk about options. I assume you have a plan. Am I going to like it?”


Chapter 37

Erica had no problems with them using the Captain’s quarters. “Makes perfect sense to me,” she said. “Good choice. There’s food, right?” She accepted the plate Jim handed her, and then pointed at Sybok. “Also, why is Sybok here? I thought we didn’t trust him.”

“I’m hurt,” Sybok said. “Spock, your Acting Captain is being hurtful.”

Spock didn’t even look up. “Acting Captain Ortegas is being truthful. That her assessment has caused you distress is a result of your own choices, rather than hers.”

To Erica, he said, “Sybok is here because we do not trust him.”

“Fair enough. Where’s everyone else? I thought Hemmer and Uhura would be here.” Erica looked around, as if she might have missed them somehow.

“Hemmer and Uhura are working on the – ‘haunting’ project. Chief Kyle is assigned to a rest cycle.”

Erica nodded. “Right. So, based on what you’ve already told me, there are two problems to solve. We want the pirates off the Enterprise, and we want the pirate ship to disengage. If we can make them decide to do those things on their own, that’s great. Best case scenario.”

She tapped her fingers on the tablet. “I assume you’ve considered making them think the ship is counting down to a self-destruct?”

Spock nodded to Jim, who said, “Too risky. If we were willing to destroy the ship to keep them from having it, why would we have surrendered? Why wait till now? If they believe it, it’s likely they'll strip the ship of anything they can get their hands on, which could easily leave us unable to warp out. If they don’t believe it, and call our bluff, they may take it out on the captured crew.”

“What else would make them let go of the ship?”

Jim leaned forward. “We believe the pirates will use the Enterprise crew to operate the ship once they’re ready to move it.”

“They don’t know how to fly the ship,” Erica said, and Jim nodded.

“So we thought – what if we had a pilot who could make the pirates think the ship was going to crash into something?”

Erica stared at him. “For the record,” she said, “I don’t like this plan.” And then she smiled. “But it could work. We’re still pretty close to that moon, right?”

“It’s got a great atmosphere,” Jim said. “Almost no turbulence at all.”

“What about the grappling hooks, though? Those things are no joke. How much damage are they going to do when they disengage them?” Erica shook her head. “If the pirates think the ship is a loss, they’re not going to care about collateral damage on their way out.”

“It is a risk,” Spock acknowledged. “Chief Hemmer has a team dedicated to minimizing the potential damage. They are developing additional force fields to seal the ship’s surface as soon as the grappling hooks disengage. In combination with the internal bulkheads, it should isolate any compromised sections and support the shields.”

“Assuming we’re able to get the shields back on,” Erica said, and Spock inclined his head in agreement.

Jim jumped back in. “I think there’s a good chance the pirates will try not to do more damage than necessary. A crashed ship might not be as valuable as one that’s fully functional, but a crashed ship that’s spaceworthy is worth a hell of a lot more than one that’s been ripped into scrap.”

Erica nodded. “So they try to move the ship, the ship starts to crash into the moon, the pirates all evacuate, and then what?”

Jim pointed at the diagram he’d sketched out while they were talking. “Well, ideally, then we skim the ship over the atmosphere until we have the moon between us and the pirates, and we jump to warp before they figure out we didn’t crash and catch up to recapture us.”

“What if we don’t get the ideal outcome?”

“The pirates don’t disengage and the grappling hooks rip the ship apart, the pirates do disengage but then blow us up with their weapons, the pirates aren’t fooled and grab us again on the far side of the moon… take your pick.”

“Or you could crash into the moon,” Sybok pointed out.

Erica and Jim looked at each other. Jim said, “Acting Captain Ortegas isn’t going to crash us into the moon, are you?”

“And let Captain Pike hold that over me for the rest of my life? Not a chance,” she told him.

“I hate this plan,” Sybok said.

Erica ignored him. “I’m guessing you want to do this remotely.”

“It would be safer that way – if the person at Navigation in the Bridge obviously isn’t the one controlling the ship, we’re hoping there will be less chance of retaliation.”

“It won’t work,” Erica said. “We can control a lot of the ship’s systems from here, but if we’re going to do this, I’m going to need to be on the Bridge. There’s a lag in remote navigation that I can’t compensate for with this kind of maneuvering. And I want Hsu for backup.”

They all looked at the screen, as if some new piece of information might suddenly appear that would provide a way to make that happen. Nothing new appeared.

Finally, Jim said, “We could scrap the crash plan, and set a program to run a random magnetization scan on the hull plating? It could throw off their systems enough that they disengage to recalibrate.”

“Or,” Spock said. “We could simply ask Sybok.”

The entire group turned as one, and Sybok’s eyes went wide. “Me? Do you finally believe me that I’m only here to help?”

“You are in contact with Angel,” Spock said. “Angel is in contact with the pirates. As you have stated a goal of providing assistance, requesting that you now do so seems a logical course of action.”

“How would I be in contact with Angel?” Sybok asked. Then he sighed. “Yes, fine, I am. But I’m not sure what you expect me to do; Angel is a prisoner of the pirates as much as your crew is.”

Spock looked like he wanted to sigh too. “I remain skeptical as to how true that statement may be. However, there is a greater than 79% percent chance that both of you will cooperate with a plan that results in the safe return of the Enterprise and crew to Federation space.”

“No decimal places?” Sybok asked. “I don’t know whether to be honored or insulted.”

Spock’s expression didn’t change, but there was an undercurrent of hurt to his thoughts, and she rounded on Sybok. “You could try being helpful,” she said.

“I could,” he replied. “I suppose I might as well. I wouldn’t want Amanda to stop sending me care packages.”


Chapter 38

As much as she hated to admit it, the plan got better after Sybok started helping. There were still far too many variables they couldn’t account for, but a few of the big ones were less likely to be a problem.

“Wait,” Erica said suddenly, right before they all split up. “Where’s M’Benga?”

She frowned. “He was out doing a safety check when the pirates arrived; he got rounded up with the rest of the crew on deck 5. Why, do you need him?”

“He’s the one who wanted to know if there was ever such a thing as a scheduled emergency crash landing,” Erica said. “I want to tell him that he’s the one who inspired this idea. If it works, I’m going to name it after him.”

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear it,” she said. He definitely wouldn’t be, but it would be funny to watch.

The plan hit a snag when she returned with Erica to the cargo bay – a necessary step so that she’d be in place to be identified by Angel as the ship’s pilot. The snag was Sam Kirk, who had apparently been waiting by the access hatch. He shouldered his way through while it was still opening.

“Go,” she said to Erica. “I’ll deal with it.”

“Deal with it?” Sam repeated. “Deal with me, you mean?”

“Hey Sam, you okay?” She wondered if an obviously placating gesture like putting her hands up would help, or if it would just make him angry. “There’s kind of a lot going on right now, I know.”

“A lot going on. Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. Like my brother is on the ship and I had to find out from an astrometrics cadet because he couldn’t be bothered to tell me himself?”

“Keep your voice down,” she said. “The walls here aren’t soundproof.”

Jim, she thought, trying to keep her focus narrow. I have your brother here.

Sam? Jim thought, which was less helpful than she’d hoped.

Do you have more than one brother?

Sam waved a hand dismissively. “They already think the ship’s haunted, what’s one more disembodied voice?”

“They’re superstitious, not stupid. Why would a ghost be yelling about astrometrics?”

“I’m not yelling!” Sam yelled. “I just want to see him,” he added, much more quietly.

He can shout at me as much as he wants after we pull this off. The ‘please don’t bring him here’ was sort of underneath the other thought, but it still came through loud and clear.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said to Sam, sending an image to Jim of her, Spock, and T’Pring all standing between him and Sam while Sam yelled.

“He’s my brother,” Sam said. “I could go looking on my own.”

She sighed. Why did people always think that would work? “Fine. I’ll take you to him,” she agreed. “But we have to hurry.”

Change of plans, she thought. They didn’t actually need her for the rest of the plan. I’m taking Sam to Sickbay; I’ll sit on him there. Don’t die.

We always need you, Jim thought back, and it echoed with unspoken thanks.

Either Sam’s astrometrics gossip hadn’t included where Jim was located, or Sam wasn’t familiar enough with the Jefferies tubes to recognize where they were going, because he followed her without any questions. He didn’t even start to look suspicious until they arrived in an obviously empty Sickbay.

To his credit, he figured it out fairly quickly after that. “Jim’s not here, is he.”

“No,” she said. “He’s not.”

Sam sighed. “And you’re not going to take me to him, are you?”

“Not right now, no.”

“And I don’t suppose I’d have any luck trying to get out of here on my own, would I?”

She held up a hypospray. “You could try, and I could sedate you until this is over. Or you can sit down, and I can tell you what’s going on.”

“I assume it’s something dangerous that no one’s ever done before and could wind up getting all of us killed?”

“I doubt no one’s ever done it before,” she hedged.

Sam shook his head. “I’m no good at sitting, and I don’t need more reasons to worry. What are your thoughts on pacing?”

There wasn’t anything else for them to do except wait, so she waved him off to pace on the far side of Sickbay. The lights dimmed and flickered, and then brightened again. T’Pring’s voice sounded inside her head. Lieutenant Ortegas has arrived on the Bridge.

There was no way to feel the acceleration of a starship from Sickbay. For all that some people claimed they could tell what speed a ship was moving at from the vibration of the deck plating, she’d always been happy enough to not be one of them.

She could feel it when the ship shuddered, though, and she held her breath. If they were lucky – The pirate ship has disengaged, T’Pring said. Attempting to confirm that all pirates have evacuated the Enterprise.

The shuddering continued, which she didn’t think was supposed to happen, but she didn’t want to interrupt T’Pring to ask. Erica’s voice came over the ship’s intercom.

”This is Acting Captain Ortegas; the pirates have disengaged, but please stay where you are for now until we can assess hull integrity. We’ll be performing a series of maneuvers to evade recapture. If anyone feels inclined to cross their fingers, now’s the time. Ortegas out.”

The red alert klaxon immediately started blaring, along with the worrying, “All hands brace for impact,” message on repeat. She stopped holding her breath and started counting the seconds. Whatever happened next, it would happen quickly.

She got as far as 45 before the red alert stopped, and she heard Sam say, “Oh, thank god. Let’s never do that again.”

”This is Ortegas; we have regained full control of the Enterprise and returned to Federation space. Repairs will commence immediately; don’t make security need to write you up for any celebrations. Good work, people.”

Her mind was full of the cool shock of relief and the giddy warmth of success. She was in their makeshift control room with Spock and Jim; she was on the Bridge with T’Pring (and when had that happened?); she was in Sickbay, blinking her eyes free from the triple images. And all of her was humming with the thought, We did it, we made it, we’re back.


Chapter 39

“Do you think there’s any chance he might just – not notice?”

They were back at Outpost Four, exactly where they were supposed to be according to their standing orders. Repairs had been made in record time; the hull was patched and the cargo bays had been set to rights. Every square meter of the ship had been cleaned; every uniform pressed and polished.

In other words, it didn’t look (much) like they’d left Federation space and temporarily lost the ship to pirates, but it did look very much like they were hiding something.

“There is a less than one percent chance of such an occurrence,” Spock said.

“Oh, were we not supposed to write our reports yet?” M’Benga asked, all innocence. “I already uploaded mine to the Captain’s server.”

Erica made a face. “You’re still mad about the crash landing thing, huh?”

M’Benga raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is there something you think I should be mad about?”

“I mean, I personally think it’s an honor to have a maneuver like that named after you,” Erica said.

The computer chimed an incoming call. ”This is Chief Kyle. The Captain just beamed back ahead of schedule. He’s headed your way.”

Erica, never afraid to ask the hard questions, said, “Does he look mad?”

”Um, he didn’t exactly look happy?”

They’d gathered in the hopes of hashing out an explanation Starfleet might accept for how they’d wound up with a damaged ship, absolutely no pirates captured, and the loss of a politically sensitive not-prisoner in the form of Ambassador Sarek’s oldest son. It looked like they were going to have a more immediate concern to address first.

She must have looked nervous, or maybe Jim did, because Spock broadcast a reassuring, There is no cause for concern, to all of them. Personally, she thought Spock’s perspective might be slightly skewed. She could easily come up with several significant causes for concern, but she supposed Spock did know Captain Pike the best.

Even Hemmer fidgeted slightly in his seat while they waited. And then the door opened, and Captain Pike stepped into the room.

“Ortegas,” he said. “I distinctly recall telling you not to get into trouble. What the hell did you do to my ship?”

“Welcome back, sir.” Erica stood up and saluted, a formality Captain Pike usually discouraged. “There were extenuating circumstances, sir. And the crew was only following my lead.”

Hemmer immediately spoke up. “And mine. I fully supported all of Acting Captain Ortegas’ decisions.”

“As did I,” Spock said.

Captain Pike looked around the table. “Right,” he said. “Full support from the crew who were on medical leave, and who were supposed to be either in Sickbay or off the ship entirely.” He focused on M’Benga, the only other member of the senior staff present. “And where were you, again?”

“Deck Five,” M’Benga said calmly.

Captain Pike took a deep breath. “Let me start again. Hemmer, glad to have you back. Spock, did you get your situation worked out?”

Spock inclined his head. “I am well. If I may ask, where is Commander Chin-Riley?”

“She’s just finishing up with a few things on the Cayuga. Which is where I would also be, except that I received an anonymous message with a video of my ship playing a game of chicken with a moon.”

Sybok. The name echoed around her so clearly she thought for sure one of them must have said it out loud.

Erica raised her hand hesitantly. “Did the video also happen to show that we won the game?”

Captain Pike closed his eyes. She thought he might be counting to ten. “It did,” he said finally. “Very impressive flying, Erica. I’d recognize it anywhere.”

Erica sat up straighter in her chair. “Thank you, sir.”

“What the video did not show me is why you were doing it in the first place. Please tell me there was a very good reason that did not involve Romulans, genetic modification, or time travel.”

There was an awkward silence as everyone avoided each others’ eyes, and then Erica said, “There was definitely a very good reason that did not involve Romulans or genetic modification, sir.”

“We have reason to suspect that time travel was also not involved,” Spock said. “However, Sybok claimed to have knowledge of the time crystals, and Acting Captain Ortegas followed Starfleet protocol regarding those claims.”

“Sybok,” Captain Pike said, glancing at his tablet. “Your brother. And where is Sybok now?”

“Unknown. Sybok arrived in a Vulcan diplomatic shuttle. After the incident, both he and the shuttle were gone. It can be surmised that he made the recording you received, and then departed.”

“Why are we surmising?” Captain Pike frowned. “The ship’s internal sensors should have a record of his movements.”

Hemmer leaned forward. “The ship was experiencing a series of power fluctuations that rendered the internal sensors unreliable.”

Captain Pike’s eyebrows went up. “Convenient.”

“The circumstances are troubling,” Spock agreed. “I have informed my family; they will address the situation with the Ankeshtan K’Til retreat.”

She knew Spock wasn’t anywhere near as unaffected by the situation as he appeared. The questions of why Sybok had showed up, helped them, and then disappeared, weighed on him. Despite their suspicions, they all wanted to believe that Sybok had at least been genuine in his care for his brother. But how much had Sybok been actively manipulating the circumstances, and how much had he simply taken advantage of the opportunities they provided?

It wasn’t anything that would be resolved while they were being debriefed, and Captain Pike seemed to realize that. “Do we have any evidence that Sybok actually had knowledge of, or from, the time crystals?” he asked.

“No,” Spock said. “Nor do we have any evidence that he did not.”

“Of course not.” Captain Pike looked around. “I’m not seeing a future version of myself show up to tell me we’re going to war with the Romulans, so I’m asking you this: is Vulcan going to make this my problem?”

T’Pring folded her hands in front of her. “No.”

“In that case, I’m letting this go.”

Erica gave an audible sigh of relief, and Captain Pike pointed at her. “Not so fast, Ortegas. We still have a lot of other things to talk about.”


Chapter 40

She’d happily escaped back to Sickbay with M’Benga when Captain Pike was called to the Bridge. They weren't expecting to find Una already there, sitting on a biobed and swinging her feet back and forth.

“I just got back,” Una explained. “Figured I’d check in and get cleared for duty.”

She wondered if there was more to it. “We’re happy to have you back. Didn’t want to deal with a big welcoming committee?”

Una shrugged. “I didn’t want it to be a thing, you know? It’s my first time being arrested. Well, being arrested by Starfleet, at least.”

“Captain Pike had to talk the crew down from storming the Cayuga to get you back,” M’Benga told her. “I’m sure he intends to welcome you back properly. But if it makes you feel better to do it this way for now –” He tapped a few notes into the computer. “Consider yourself cleared. Welcome back, Commander.”

He headed for his office, and she leaned closer to Una so she could speak quietly. “If it went badly, I can get you off the ship, no problem. Just say the word.” She didn’t think it had gone badly, but it never hurt to have a contingency plan.

Una startled. “What? No, it went well. A lot better than I expected, or even hoped.”

She frowned. “Captain Pike told us he’d been working on some things with people he trusted. He didn’t say anything to you?”

“He said he would.” Una hesitated, and then added, “It’s just – it’s one thing to have someone say they’ll fight for you.”

“And a lot more when they show up and do it?” she guessed. “And they bring all their friends with them?” She’d been on the receiving end of that more than once, and every time it had been overwhelming.

“Exactly. Do you know, Captain Batel made me the same offer, when she beamed me over to the Cayuga? If I’d wanted to leave right then, I could have.”

“Yeah? Chief Kyle thought she might be on your side,” she said. “I’m glad she was. And I’m glad you didn’t take her up on it.”

Una smiled. “Me too.”

“So what happened? Are we all outlaws now, or did you manage to drag Starfleet into the current century and get things changed?”

“Well, it seemed like it could go either way at first. Chris had his contacts in the Federation Council, and Captain Batel, and some of the other captains all got together. Your institute got involved too; was that your idea?”

“I just suggested they might be able to help,” she said. “They’ve been itching to get involved for years. The regulations about genetic modification are archaic, and they haven’t kept up with any of the current epigenetic science. If you wanted to get pedantic about it, almost anyone could be called genetically modified now, as compared to when the regulations were written.”

Una nodded. “That was Chris’ argument, but you know common sense doesn’t always go over too well, especially if it’s going to mean admirals having to admit they were wrong. Captain Batel was the one who thought of bringing in the Vulcans.”

“Infinite diversity in infinite combinations?” she guessed.

Una pointed at her. “That’s the one.”

“And Vulcans are one of the founding members of the Federation.”

“They might have mentioned that, yes. They had a lot to say, it turned out, and more than a few examples from all over the Federation.” Una looked at her and raised her eyebrows. “Almost like someone had asked them to be prepared ahead of time.”

“Vulcans are very detail-oriented,” she agreed. “That one wasn’t me, though. Spock, maybe.”

“You think so?” Una looked a little lost, and she nudged her over so she could sit next to her on the biobed.

“Is it such a surprise, that we’d all want to look out for you in our own ways?” She knew it could be – knew that it was impossible to realize how much of an impact you’d had in other peoples’ lives. “You’re not alone in this.”

Una gave a tiny laugh. “Less alone than I ever imagined, in fact. It turned out I wasn’t the only Illyrian who’d found a way to join up with Starfleet.”

She nodded. “You did say you were good at adapting. Makes sense that if any of you wanted to be in Starfleet, you would have found a way.”

“Even with all of that, I wasn’t sure if it would be enough,” Una said. “And then the Farragut showed up out of nowhere, saying someone had tipped them off to investigate the USS Peregrine?”

She nodded. “That was probably because of Uhura; she was looking into it after La’an left.”

“Well, they found something. Something they were willing to go into uncharted space to confirm, and then they found La’an doing the same thing. It was all classified three times over, but it kicked up a hell of a storm over the encrypted channels.”

“It was related?” she asked.

Una shook her head. “I don’t know. But it was pointed out that I’d been serving in Starfleet for years with the same flags in my files, and it wasn’t until the Enterprise started asking questions about the Peregrine that those flags turned into an arrest order, and suddenly we were talking with an entirely different set of admirals and things were looking a lot more positive.”

Una held up her hands, and her fingers were trembling. “Even now it makes my hands shake to think about it.” She took a deep breath. “The regulations banning Illyrians from serving have been eliminated, and all of the genetic modification regulations are now under review.”

“Congratulations,” she said. “It was long overdue.” She looked sideways at Una. “Is this a hugging moment? Should we hug?”

Una laughed, and shook her hands out. “I’m good, thanks. Enough about me, anyway. I heard things haven’t exactly been quiet and peaceful around here while we were gone. What the hell did you do to my ship?”

“I was on Deck Five the whole time!” M’Benga called from his office.

She wasn’t even going to try to describe whatever Erica had done. Apparently there was a video; if Una hadn’t seen it already, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell her about it. She said, “We mostly climbed around in the Jefferies tubes a lot, actually.”

Una made a face. “Oh, I hate the Jefferies tubes. I always wind up hitting my head on something.”

She could only imagine. “Other than that, Uhura gave an inspired speech about how the ship may or may not be haunted, and we all met Spock’s brother.”

“Sybok, huh? I heard about him. And of course she’s haunted. Haunted in all the best ways,” Una said, patting the computer screen.

She pretended not to notice the momentary brightening of the screen. Instead, she waved towards the door. “Also, did you know La’an set up an auxiliary control system for the ship that’s accessible from the Captain’s kitchen?”

“Really?” Una looked only mildly surprised. “I didn’t know, but I probably wasn’t supposed to. It’s a security officer thing; they do that. It’s like nesting.”

She blinked. Now that was a mental image. “Please say you’ll let me tell La’an you called it that.”


Chapter 41

“I feel like I’ve been called to the Principal’s office and I’m about to lose my recess privileges.”

“Try getting yelled at by my brother for an hour,” Jim replied. “I thought he was going to try to ground me. Apparently he thinks ‘but it worked’ isn’t an acceptable justification for doing things.”

“Lieutenant Kirk is correct in that assertion,” Spock said, in a way that managed to imply that Lieutenant Kirk had perhaps never been correct about anything in Spock’s presence, and this latest information was a surprising development.

T’Pring frowned. “An hour of yelling is illogical. I suggest your brother direct his concerns to one of us in the future, should he have cause to do so.”

Jim’s mental presence fuzzed out a little; she thought he must be at a loss for words. The mental image of Sam trying to yell at T’Pring was certainly inspiring.

The four of them had been called back to Captain Pike’s briefing room for a follow-up meeting. Spock and T’Pring looked as unruffled as ever, but she was sure her nerves were showing by the time the door slid open and Captain Pike waved them inside.

“I’ve read your initial reports,” he said, in lieu of a greeting. “Didn’t take long.” He picked up the tablet from his desk and waved it in their direction.

“However, I can understand that there may be some aspects of the situation that you would prefer not to include in an official report.” He set the tablet back down.

“So now I’d like to hear it from you. Spock?”

“The reports are an accurate record of the events,” Spock said calmly. “Was there a particular aspect you would like clarified?”

“Spock, your report includes a timeline that lists ‘arrived on unnamed moon’ and ‘departed unnamed moon’ more than two days apart, with absolutely nothing between those two points.”

Captain Pike gestured towards her. “Nurse Chapel, your report included an extremely detailed description of what seems to have been an utterly unimportant cave. And then there’s Lieutenant Kirk’s report, which includes an entire page of math calculating the feasibility of a glide path landing, which I am praying is hypothetical.”

I thought your notes on the cave were fascinating. Jim’s expression was carefully neutral, but in his head he was back to giving her a thumbs-up.

Thank you, she thought back. You’d think he’d be happy we were spending our downtime on educational pursuits. Speleology, math –

Figuring out how to flirt with our brains, Jim added, and her face must have given something away, because Spock gave both of them a warning look.

“Captain,” Spock said. “As you know, the circumstances of my leave of absence from the Enterprise were – highly personal. While the situation has been resolved to the satisfaction of all involved parties, I would prefer not to go into details.”

She could practically see Captain Pike turning the phrase “satisfaction of all involved parties” over in his mind like a puzzle piece. She wondered if there was a way to stop him before he reached the most logical conclusion.

“Chris,” T’Pring said. “This is a private Vulcan matter.”

“Is it?” Captain Pike asked. “Because I have another report here that says all four of you are on medical leave, and unless I’m missing something, only two of you are Vulcans.”

“Vulcan medical privacy laws can be extended to non-Vulcans when applicable. We are bonded; no other details are necessary.”

For a long moment, T’Pring and Captain Pike just stared at each other, but eventually it was Pike who gave in first. “Talk with M’Benga. Figure out what he needs to know to sign off on a return to active duty; he’ll figure out what I need to know.”

“That is acceptable,” T’Pring agreed.

“Unrelatedly, the Farragut is on her way here,” Captain Pike said. “They want to know if we’re planning on trading our Kirk for theirs, since we seem to have ended up with both of them.”

“Sure, I love the life sciences,” Jim said.

She choked, and tried unsuccessfully to make it sound like she was just clearing her throat. “Sorry, sir. Water must have gone down the wrong pipe.” Captain Pike gave her a skeptical look, possibly because she didn’t have any water.

“Right,” he said. She tried to look innocent, but she could feel T’Pring laughing at her, and Spock very seriously handed her a glass of water.

Captain Pike looked at each of them in turn, and she could see the exact moment he decided not to ask. “This puts me in an interesting situation,” he said instead. “Namely, that I’m still not entirely sure how you wound up here, Lieutenant Kirk.”

“My brother had the same question, sir.”

Jim and T’Pring were having some sort of rapid-fire conversation she could only get the echoes of, and T’Pring said, “Lieutenant Kirk arrived here by my invitation. I was in need of a ship and pilot, and he was able to assist.”

Captain Pike frowned. “The ship that’s in my docking bay? Do I want to know why you had that, and why you were flying it instead of the Farragut?”

“Training exercise, sir,” Jim said blandly. “I had a hunch. Captain Chenowyth knows where I am.”

“That’s what you’re going with? Training exercise, then tapped for a Vulcan diplomatic mission you couldn’t turn down?” Captain Pike’s expression was doubtful. “It might work.”

Spock added, “If that is not sufficient, Lieutenant Kirk’s timely assistance very likely saved my life. Recent events have indicated that such a thing might be of some interest to certain parties.”

It was vague enough that she didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but Captain Pike stared at him. She assumed it had something to do with the way he kept anticipating a future version of himself showing up. “You’re suggesting that if anyone questions it, I blame the time crystals?”

“I am – presenting options,” Spock said.

Captain Pike nodded slowly. “You are much more devious than I realized. I like it. That still doesn’t answer my question about Kirk. Am I fighting with Chenowyth to keep you?”

Someone was sliding towards panic in her head, and for once she didn’t think it was her. “Captain,” she said. “I’m sure we all appreciate your concern, but we could use some time to talk this over ourselves. Once we have a plan, you’ll be the first to know.”

“That sounds like a lie, but I’ll settle for knowing before Starfleet Command.” He looked at all of them again. “T’Pring,” he started, and then hesitated.

T’Pring raised one eyebrow. “Chris.”

Captain Pike sighed. “Fine. Sort this out amongst yourselves; you know I’ll do what I can to support it. That goes for all of you.”

Jim looked back and forth between them. “Can I call you Chris?” he asked.

“Don’t push your luck. When you make Captain, you can call me Chris.”

Jim laughed. “Deal. I’m holding you to that, you know.”


Chapter 42

It was sheer coincidence that she was passing by the transporter room when the Farragut showed up. Well, maybe not sheer coincidence. She’d been headed to the transporter room to discuss the rumors surrounding the Farragut’s imminent arrival with Chief Kyle, and Una happened to be taking the same route and asked her to come along as moral support.

“Not that I’d ever turn down a request for moral support, but why do you want me there?”

“La’an’s on the Farragut,” Una explained. “She’s beaming over to return to duty here. We didn’t get to do a sendoff party for her, but we can at least give her a welcome back reception, and you’re friends with her. I want her to know we missed her and are glad she’s back.”

She narrowed her eyes. Nothing about that explanation involved moral support. “What happened to coming back and not wanting to make it a big deal?” she asked.

“That was different,” Una said quickly.

She crossed her arms and hoped her expression was conveying the full extent of her disbelief. “It wasn’t that different. The crew loves you. Both of you.”

“La’an says the crew is terrified of both of us,” Una countered. “And she likes it that way.”

“They can be terrified and still love you. Believe me; I would know.”

Una looked at her carefully, and she resisted the urge to fidget. “Thanks,” Una said finally. “If you ever want to talk about it…”

“I know where to find you,” she said firmly, and Una nodded.

They paused just outside the transporter room, and Una said, “During the incident with the light virus, La’an and I – may have exchanged some words.”

“About you being an Illyrian?” Things had seemed tense between the two of them while they’d been working on the cure, but she thought they’d sorted it out later.

“Among other things,” Una said. “We didn’t exactly see eye to eye on genetic modification. And no, that was not a height joke; I can see you thinking it.”

“Me? I would never,” she lied, and some of the tightness went out of Una’s shoulders when she laughed.

“La’an took part in the Farragut’s presentation to the Council, but we haven’t had a chance to talk since then,” Una said. “I’m just – I don’t know where her head is at right now, when it comes to me being here.”

“Look at it this way,” she said. “She knows you’re here and she still decided to come back; that’s got to count for something.” She managed to keep the serious expression on her face just long enough for Una to register the words, then let it slip into humor.

“That’s terrible; I can’t believe that actually makes me feel better.” Una shook her head, but she was smiling.

As soon as they stepped into the transporter room and La’an beamed over, she realized Una had a second reason for wanting moral support – so that someone would be there to make sure she and La’an eventually got past the stage of just staring at each other.

She snuck a glance at Chief Kyle, who shrugged. Finally she cleared her throat. “Pretty sure this is a hugging moment,” she suggested.

It was enough. La’an stepped off the transporter pad, and Una immediately wrapped her in a hug. La’an’s arms came up more slowly, but not by much. “I heard you spoke for me,” Una said quietly.

“Of course I did.” La’an’s voice was even quieter, which at least made it easier to pretend she couldn’t hear it.

She spent what felt like a very long moment avoiding looking at anyone except Chief Kyle. Then she realized that based on the earlier staring, the hugging might drag on indefinitely without interference. And she had been invited.

So she turned back to watch Una and La’an instead, which had the benefit of letting her pretend that Chief Kyle wasn’t sharing the latest update over the ship’s intranet. The hug went on until La’an whispered something too quiet for her to hear, and then they both stepped back. She may have wiped away a couple tears, but it could have just been the ship’s air. Transporter rooms were always too dry.

Una cleared her throat, and said, “So, Captain Pike is hosting a welcome back party.”

La’an gave her a flat look. “I hate parties. Especially ones when people expect me to show up.”

“That’s good, because this one isn’t just for you. It’s also for me, and Hemmer and Spock, and for Erica and Jenna and everyone else. Apparently it’s been pretty busy around here.”

“Yeah,” La’an said absently. She seemed to have gotten distracted, looking around the transporter room with a suspicious expression. “I know, I’ve been getting reports from the kid. He’s great, by the way; he found Oriana’s family in less than a day after he contacted me.”

La’an narrowed her eyes and focused on Chief Kyle. “What the hell did you do to my ship?”

Una turned to look at her. “That’s exactly what I asked! Except the part about the kid. What kid?”

Chief Kyle’s eyes were wide, and he held both hands up. “Nothing! I didn’t do anything!”

“Transporter techs know everything,” La’an said. “Try again. Why is everything so clean? What happened?”

They stared at each other for a few tense seconds, and then: “It was pirates,” Chief Kyle admitted. “They boarded and occupied the ship briefly before we were able to take her back. Lieutenant Ortegas was the Acting Captain; she might be able to tell you more?”

He looked like he was holding his breath, and La’an narrowed her eyes even more. “And that’s it?” she asked.

“That’s – mostly it?” Chief Kyle hedged. “Is there something specific you wanted to know about?”

La’an raised her eyebrows. “Did you, or did you not, organize with the yeomen to distribute food and supplies, harass the invaders, and enter more than a dozen restricted areas?”

Chief Kyle swallowed hard. “I – wasn’t counting? But yes, technically speaking, those are things that also happened.”

La’an nodded. “I want you for Security.”

“What?” Chief Kyle looked baffled, and she thought it might be genuine. “But I’m in Engineering?”

La’an looked at Una. “I want him for Security.”

“We’ll talk about it after the party.”


Chapter 43

She raised her glass towards Erica. “I heard they want to give you a commendation. Congratulations, Acting Captain.”

“Ha ha. I’ve never been happier to hand the big chair back to Captain Pike.” Erica leaned in closer to tap their glasses together. “Besides, I heard your news is much more interesting. When you decide to ignore my advice, you really ignore it.”

“I didn’t ignore all of your advice,” she protested. “Just most of it. I listened to the part you said about honest communication.” She raised her glass in Erica’s direction. “Can confirm it has been excellent; ten out of ten recommend sharing a telepathic bond in order to promote interpersonal honesty.”

Jenna looked back and forth between them. “Wait, what news? I’ve been on the outpost all day, trying to reassure them that we’re not all gathered here because we think the Romulans are about to attack.”

“You know Spock and Spock’s girlfriend?” Erica asked, and Jenna nodded. “Now it’s more like Spock and Spock’s two girlfriends and a boyfriend.”

She made a face. “Please never describe it that way again. You make it sound like Spock has a harem.”

“Fine,” Erica said. “You’re all equal participants in a romantic relationship, then. You realize that when it’s you we’re talking about, that sounds almost as unlikely as the harem.”

“Congratulations,” Jenna said approvingly. “Who’s the boyfriend?”

“Kirk,” Erica said, and Jenna frowned.

“I thought he was married. Wouldn’t that make it three girlfriends?”

“The other Kirk,” Erica corrected. “The brother.”

Jenna’s eyes went wide. “Oh, really?”

She could feel Jim approaching, and she leaned into him when he draped an arm across her shoulders. “Sounds like someone’s been telling stories about me,” he said. “Do I want to know?” In her mind, he added, I don’t want to know, do I?

“I read your paper on the applications and risks of using hyper-power circuits in deep space relays,” Jenna said. “You made some good points – it seemed like maybe a follow-up paper would be coming?”

Jim brightened. Never mind, I absolutely do want to know. Out loud, he said, “Yes! You’ve been following the latest research on the effects of repeated warp exposure? Let me add you to the group; there’s a few of us working on it now and we’re always looking for new ideas.”

She relaxed in the shared joy of the academic exchange, despite knowing almost nothing about hyper-power circuits. It was the perfect opportunity to look around, and enjoy seeing the Captain’s space returned to its usual arrangement, with no sign of its recent stint as a combination dormitory and strategy center.

Uhura and Hemmer were nearby, telling a story to a group of eager-looking ensigns from one of the science teams. Chief Kyle was hiding out with the engineers – she wasn’t sure where they’d gotten the tray of desserts, but she was confident it wouldn’t emerge from their huddle until it was empty.

She couldn’t see Spock or T’Pring, but that wasn’t surprising. The party might have started in Captain Pike’s quarters, but it had long since spilled out into the corridors and most of the ship’s common areas. Victories didn’t come as often as they’d like; everyone was always eager to celebrate when they did.

Jim tapped his fingers on her arm to pull her attention back to the conversation. “You’re headed out?” she asked. She’d felt him thinking about it, and he nodded.

“I’m going to ask T’Pring if she wants to go hang out in Spock’s quarters and play chess. And possibly redecorate.” The invitation was clear – she was welcome to join them, if she wanted to.

No one had thought to assign guest quarters to Jim or T’Pring while they were being invaded by pirates, and afterwards it had seemed awkward to ask. They’d both been staying in Spock’s quarters, or sometimes in Jim’s ship, if there were repairs to oversee. Her roommate kept asking if she was planning to join them – it was a transparent bid to get the room to themselves, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t been considering it.

“I’ll stay here,” she said. “Spock’s still around; I promised myself I’d see him try the Captain’s punch before I left.”

They both looked towards the door just as Spock walked through it. “Wow,” Jenna murmured. “I should have put more money in the pool.”

“I’m ignoring that,” Jim said. Out loud, he said, “Get pictures?” and in her head she heard, See you later? She nodded agreement with both.

Jim clasped Spock’s shoulder on the way out and Spock smiled, and they both ignored the way everyone in viewing distance stared at them in surprise. Exposure to new situations is a commonly stated reason for joining Starfleet, Spock shared. This would seem to qualify.

An educator and a role model; that’s very impressive,, she sent back.

La’an caught up with her while she was still working her way across the room. “What did you say to Una? About me, I mean.”

She hesitated, but La’an’s stare was extremely convincing. “Um, I said you knew she was here, and decided to come back anyway?”

“Thanks,” La’an said, only a little grudgingly. “It helped.”

That was better than she’d expected, honestly. “I’m glad. What you said helped too – when we talked before you left.”

She wasn’t sure La’an would even remember, but she immediately answered, “You figured out your best case scenario, then?”

She shrugged. “I think I at least figured out we’d do better working it out together than any of us would manage separately. Take the victories where you can, right?”

“That’s right,” La’an said. “Congratulations.”

“The secret of your relationship advice powers is safe with me,” she said, and La’an rolled her eyes. She felt Spock moving to stand next to her, and La’an nodded to him before moving away.

“I understand I am to try the punch,” Spock said. She handed him her glass, and he took a sip with a dubious expression.

“Terrible,” he declared.

“Right? How can he be so good at food and so bad at punch?” She took the glass back and emptied it. “Thank you.”

Spock was good at moving through crowds in a way that made people step aside, and he took full advantage of it to lead them through the corridors to a quieter spot. “Why, Mr. Spock,” she teased. “Someone might get ideas.”

“If the idea is that I enjoy spending time with you, it would be entirely correct.”

She really needed to stop being surprised when he said things like that. “I’m glad,” she said. “And what do you know? That’s exactly what I was thinking too.”


Epilogue

“So it turns out there aren’t a huge number of good places to take someone for a date on a ship like the Enterprise.”

T’Pring turned, and clasped her hands behind her back. “Is that what we are doing?”

“It’s what I’d like to be doing,” she said easily.

“Why?” T’Pring asked.

She could feel the genuine curiosity in her mind, along with a tentative satisfaction over spending time together, and it gave her the courage to explain. “It’s common for Human friends and significant others to participate in a relaxing activity together after they’ve completed a stressful one. Also, you were incredibly impressive when we were dealing with Sybok and the pirates, and I thought to myself, ‘I’d like to do something nice for T’Pring after we take back the ship.’”

She gestured at the foliage surrounding them. “You almost always took our calls outside, in the gardens, rather than in your rooms, so I thought you might like this place. It’s about as close as we can get to that on the Enterprise.”

“And yet this does not appear to be one of the ship’s designated leisure areas,” T’Pring said.

“Not originally, no. This started out as part of the botany lab, as an experiment in cross-pollination. It worked better than they expected, and then one of the botanists got recalled to Earth for six months and no one was willing to get rid of their work. So –” She waved a hand at the foliage surrounding them. “Public gardens.”

“Some of these plants are native to Vulcan,” T’Pring noted.

She nodded. “Yeah, the botanist was testing a combination of plants – Earth, Vulcan, a few of the other Federation planets.” She snuck a look at T’Pring. “Trying to figure out how they could all grow together.”

T’Pring stopped, and turned to her with a single eyebrow already raised. “That is an unusually heavy-handed metaphor.”

She winced. It really was. “I know. Is it working?”

T’Pring looked sideways at her, and unclasped her hands so that she could brush their fingers together. “The gardens are a pleasant experience.”

She breathed a sigh of relief that was entirely obvious, and said, “I’m glad. I hoped you would enjoy them. And the company.”

“Indeed. Was it not you who instructed me that some things are better experienced together?”

It was a conversation that felt like it had happened in the distant past, even though she knew that objectively speaking, it hadn’t been that long ago. “That was me,” she agreed.

“An intriguing lesson,” T’Pring said, as they turned a corner into one of her favorite alcoves.

T’Pring froze. “What is that?”

She wasn’t sure what to make of the tone of T’Pring’s voice. “The cat? It likes the gardens too.”

“That is not a cat.”

She looked at the animal sprawled out on the bench in front of them, giving all appearances of being asleep.

“Well,” she said. “Not exactly, no.” In defense of the ensign who’d brought her onboard, it had looked more like a cat when it was smaller. “DNA testing was inconclusive, but there’s definitely some cat in there somewhere.”

T’Pring took a step closer. “Did you test for sehlat DNA?”

She felt Spock and Jim perk up at the thought, and she compared the animal in front of them to the memories she’d seen of I-Chaya. There might be a resemblance. It raised its head off the bench to give T’Pring an appraising look, and she revised that to a definite resemblance. The teeth, especially. “I thought sehlats never left Vulcan?”

“That is true. However, this creature appears to have successfully adapted to a new environment. It is a trait I find – admirable.”

There was something almost teasing in T’Pring’s voice, and she put her hands on her hips. “Now who’s using a heavy-handed metaphor?”

“Is it working?” T’Pring asked.

“It absolutely is.”

“I second that,” Jim said, stepping into the alcove from the opposite direction. Spock ignored all of them in favor of the cat, which leapt off the bench with surprising delicacy considering its size, and butted its head against Spock’s thigh.

They all watched Spock watch the cat, until T’Pring said suddenly, “I will not join Starfleet.”

Spock looked up, startled. “I did not expect that you would.”

T’Pring looked pointedly at Jim, who flushed. “I was brainstorming!” he protested. “In my own head, where all ideas are allowed as a legitimate part of the brainstorming process. You can’t tell me that you joining Starfleet is less likely than all of us running off together to explore uncharted space.”

“I assumed you would raise that option yourself,” T’Pring said calmly. “As you just have. It seemed less likely you would be willing to mention the possibility of my joining Starfleet, so I took it upon myself to state my position.”

She thought it might have been an easier conversation to have in the privacy of Spock’s quarters, but the cat was in the process of draping itself over Spock’s lap, and neither of them showed signs of moving again anytime soon.

“I’m not planning on joining Starfleet either,” she said. “In case that was a question.”

“Really?” Jim looked surprised.

She shrugged. “I’ve made a lot of plans, over two lifetimes. Mostly what that’s taught me is that things never turn out the way you plan.” She tried to put her thoughts into words – and not just words, but words that would be heard, and listened to.

“I know we’ve all been thinking about the future. And I think there’s no right way, or wrong way; there’s just moving forward and making one decision at a time.”

Jim nodded, and tapped the side of his head. “We’re together here, even if we aren’t in the same physical space. Look at the two of you –” He nodded at T’Pring and Spock. “You made long distance work for years, well enough to make all the other Vulcans jealous.”

“Jealousy is an illogical emotional response,” Spock said.

“It sure is, and that has never stopped a single person from feeling it.”

T’Pring inclined her head in agreement. “Indeed.”

“When I first saw the three of you,” Jim said. “I thought ‘those are people who are sure of their welcome with each other.’ It’s in the way you look at each other; the way you move around each other.”

“And you.” It echoed in her head, and at least one of them had said it out loud. “You too. We look at you that way too.”

“All of us,” she said. “We’re all in this. We have options. None of them change who we are to each other. When we win, when we lose, when we’ve done something a lifetime ago or a thousand times already, that’s still us. It still matters.”

T’Pring reached out and tangled their fingers together. “It’s worth it,” Jim said quietly. “Every time.”

Jim took her other hand, and she looked at Spock, and thought of a conversation in the dark. “And every once in a while, the universe still surprises us, right?”

The cat didn’t concede to the dramatic timing of the moment and get up, but it did allow Jim and T’Pring to each put a hand on Spock, and the bond hummed between them like a song.

“It does,” Spock said. “We will endeavor to continue allowing it to do so.”