had
recently come to appreciate the fact that this
woman
possessed a passionately volatile,
aggressive nature,
which her outwardly constant good humor belied.
lOO
MINDSHADOW
"You can't send him away now, in this condition. I
don't even know his reaction to the medication yet--"
"They'll take good care of him on Vulcan,"
McCoy
countered evenly.
"Good care!" Emma's laugh was bitter. "Have you
ever been in a Vulcan hospital, attended
by Vulcan
physicians? If you think I'm
unsympathetic... they'll
have no sympathy for what Spock's going
through
emotionally. He'll be reduced to a series of
numbers
on a diagnostic screen."
"I'm not sending him to a hospital," McCoy
said
quietly. "I'm sending him home."
Emma quieted and listened.
"Physically, Spock doesn't need to be in
sick bay.
His parents will keep us informed about his progress
on the neodopazine, and they'll take excellent
care of
him. His mother is human. I've met her, and I
know
that emotionally, she'll be a great source of
encouragement
to him."
"Leonard, you know they can't monitor him
constantly
the way we can here--"
"Maybe so. But he's ashamed, Emma, because
he's
lost the Vulcan mind rules. He can relearn
them on
Vulcan. I think they'll be the greatest help
to his
recovery."
"You talk about shame--you said I shamed Spock
by calling him a liar, but that's nothing compared to
the shame that Spock will experience on Vulcan
because
he is unable to shield his thoughts from other
telepaths."
"How else will he learn to do that? Besides, he'll
be
with his mother most of the time, and she's not a
telepath." McCoy looked at Emma
quizzically. "Why
are you fighting me so hard on this?"
She sighed silently and dropped her hands from her
hips in a conscious attempt to eradicate the
outward
signs of her anger. "I'm angry, because I
can't help
thinking--how will I sleep nights if Spock
hurts himself,
or worse, a member of his family?"
McCoy didn't have a convincing answer for that
one, only a gut feeling that Emma could
not seem to
share. "I just don't think he'll try to hurt
himself
again. I know he would never hurt his family."
"I don't buy that, Leonard. if you send
Spock home
without me to monitor his behavior, then you'd
better
make sure that someone sees that he takes his
medication. Damn sure."
"I will."
Emma stood on tiptoe, trying to put the
Levirol
back on the shelf; McCoy took it from her and
replaced
it easily. She pulled away from him, her
movements
tight with contained anger.
She turned to face him at the lab door. "I
can't take
responsibility for sending Spock home,
Doctor. I
won't sanction it. If anything happens--"
"I take all responsibility," McCoy
said.
He hoped like hell that he was right.
Chapter Five
EMMA SAENZ SAT pensively at the
desk in Spock's
cabin and watched intently as the Vulcan gathered
the
few things needed for his journey: a desert
softsuit,
boots, cassettes to study and, perhaps, to understand.
His blue science officer's uniform was already
carefully
packed away, and he now wore a
camel-colored
tunic of a lightweight material better suited
for Vulcan's
oppressive heat. It occurred to Emma that he
looked far more like a professor on sabbatical
from the
Vulcan Science Academy than a Star
Fleet officer on
leave. She forced her mind quickly to other thoughts,
but it was too late: the painful wave of
homesickness
was too strong to completely eradicate.
Spock picked it up immediately, of
course, and
straightened from his packing to stare at her with
gentle eyes, unable to comprehend what he had
sensed
her feel. Emma's eyes were wet, glistening
black. She
looked away.
He returned silently to his packing, and was still
attempting to interpret the sensation when the buzzer
rang. "Come," he said, before Emma could rise
to
answer it.
James Kirk entered, and stopped abruptly when
he
saw her, making no attempt to hide his
disappointment.
"Oh. Dr. Saenz. I didn't realize you
would be
here..."
"Hello, Captain," she said smoothly.
Surely he
must realize that Spock could no longer be
permitted
to remain alone in his quarters after the
suicide attempt--perhaps
he'd expected to find McCoy here,
under the circumstances. But McCoy was on the
hangar deck, fussing over the shuttlecraft
interior to
make certain that his patient's journey would be a
comfortable one.
Kirk had wanted to avoid the hangar deck
altogether.
"I was hoping to talk to Mr. Spock," he said
to
Emma. He did not say alone.
Emma knew it would be cruel to pretend she did
not
understand; she pushed herself away from the desk
and stood up. "I'll be outside if anyone
needs me."
"Thank you," Kirk said gratefully.
When the door closed behind Dr. Saenz,
Spock
closed the dresser drawer and faced his captain.
It was
not a moment to which either of them had looked
forward, but one that both knew could not be avoided.
Jim smiled, but his eyes were full of
misery. Spock
permitted himself a small sigh; he had
mind-linked
with the captain many times before, and such a telepathic
bond was not easily broken, especially with this
man, to whom he was closer than any other living
soul.
He steadied himself as Jim's despair washed
over him
with an almost physical force; he felt Jim
struggle with
the fear that his first officer would not return.
Spock knew the feeling well; he also knew it
was a
fear that might very well be realized. It was a
possibil-
MINDSHADOW
ity he regretted, for he knew the captain
needed him,
needed the solid Vulcan logic to
temper
Jim's bursts of
intuitive insight--logic that Spock could no
longer
provide. It was at the same time both
reassuring and
distinctly painful.
Spock had already decided that there was no sense
in prolonging the pain by trying to say anything; each
knew the other's thoughts too well for speech to be
necessary now. Wordlessly, he offered Jim the
Vulcan
salute, fingers parting and uniting again.
The captain returned it awkwardly. Suddenly,
Spock perceived an impulse Jim had stifled,
aware of
the Vulcan's distaste for physical contact.
Spock decided
it would cause no harm to indulge the wish of his
friend; he extended his hand to the captain.
Jim took the hand, aware that Spock was now
forced to feel what he felt himself; he no longer
tried to
smile.
The whistle of the intercom ensured that the contact
would be brief; Lyle in the transporter room
was
looking for the captain.
"Glad I found you, sir. I thought you'd like to know
that Lieutenant Commander Varth has come
aboard."
"Varth." Kirk tried to remember the
significance
of the name.
"The new first officer, sir."
"Yes, of course," Kirk said shortly.
"Kirk out." He
hit the intercom with more force than was necessary to
terminate the conversation; when he turned back to
Spock, the look on his face was almost more than his
friend could bear.
"Go," the Vulcan said.
Emma Saenz was waiting outside the door when
Kirk came out. He tried to pass her without
speaking,
but she stepped in front of him, an unreadable
expression
on her face.
"He's that important to you," she said slowly.
Her
tone was hesitant, rising, almost a question.
Kirk did not understand what she was talking about;
he could not have answered her even if he had.
Angry
at the intrusion, he pulled blindly
away.
She stood outside in the corridor for a moment,
looking after him.
They were about an hour from Star Base 12 when
Mr. Scott first mentioned the slight malfunction
in the
control panel.
He shook his head. "I checked this vessel out
completely before we boarded her. I know for a fact
I
dinna miss anythin'. She was in perfect
shape."
"What's wrong?" Chapel asked. She was
sitting
behind and to the right of Scott, in the passenger's seat
next to Spock. She hadn't wanted to come
along,
considering the awkwardness of the situation, but
McCoy had insisted. She was the one person he
trusted to see that Spock made it to Vulcan in
one
piece.
"We're three hours out now," Scott
answered, "and
the indicator says we haven't used
any fuel."
Spock's eyebrow rose sharply. The temptation
to
ask the engineer how he had failed to notice the
problem much earlier was almost too great; Chapel,
however, had no such compunctions.
"Why didn't you tell us sooner? You must have
noticed it before---"
"I dinna want to worry ye," Scott
shrugged. "I
thought the indicator might just be stuck
temporarily."
"Stuck?" Spock's monosyllable managed
to convey
volumes of insinuation.
Scott became indignant. "Aye, stuck. It
happens.
All of the sudden, ye'il see half your fuel
gone where it
MINDSHADOW
indicated full charge not a second before. Or do
ye
think I don't know what I'm talkin' about?"
Spock deemed it wisest not to reply.
"Will it cause any problems?" Chapel asked.
"Ach, no, it shouldn't..." Scott began in a
soothing tone, swiveling around in his chair to look at
her.
"... unless, of course, we run out of fuel."
Spock
qualified the engineer's statement.
Aghast, Christine looked at Scott.
"Don't worry, lass," he said in the same
soothing
tone, "I'll notify Star Base Twelve of
our predicament,
and we'll have it fixed when we land."
"You mean if we land," Christine said coldly.
"What if we run out of fuel before we reach Star
Base
Twelve?"
Scott remained determinedly cheerful. "Then
we'll
drift, but we can always radio for help."
"Assuming," Spock began, "we aren't close
enough
to the star base to be affected by its gravitational
pull,
in which case--"
"You don't have to finish," Chapel said firmly.
"I
took physics." She turned away from
Scott, who
looked very much as though he regretted the rapid
improvement in the Vulcan's speech, and pulled
the
medikit from under her seat. "Here, Mr. Spock.
Even
if we are doomed, I don't want it said that
I forgot your
medication." She held out a cupped hand
to Spock.
The capsules resembled small violet ovals
of polished
porcelain. Once in the mouth, they would dissolve
without need of liquid; however, Spock could
not help thinking they looked more like something to
be aesthetically appreciated rather than digested.
He
picked them from Chapel's hand, careful to avoid
physical contact.
While Spock was greatly relieved that McCoy
had
prevented Emma Saenz from
accompanying him, he
had been less than comfortable with the knowledge
that Christine Chapel would be at his side throughout
the entire journey--although he had to admit that thus
far she had comported herself admirably,
exhibiting a
degree of control of which he had not thought her
capable; perhaps Dr. Saenz had warned her of his
increased telepathic vulnerability.
They traveled in silence for a time, the only sound
the soft, hypnotic drone of the Galileo's
engines.
Spock began to feel drowsy, but tried to stay
awake by
focusing his attention on the control panel. If
he were
going to be incinerated in Star Base 12's
atmosphere,
he would prefer to remain conscious for the last hour
of his life.
He started at the sound of Scott radioing for
landing
instructions--comhe had been sleeping, a fact he
found
highly embarrassing; sleep had
previously always been
a conscious act over which he'd had complete
He glanced up to see Chapel studiously not
looking at
him.
Star Base 12 radioed permission for descent.
"How about that." Scott directed a
triumphant grin
at Christine. "Looks like we'll get there in
one piece
after all."
"Why, Mr. Scott," she replied with mock
surprise,
"don't tell me you had any doubts."
"Nooo... of course not."
The planet designated as Star Base 12 was
not
particularly scenic or suitable for shore leave,
although
some Star Fleet unfortunates were compelled
to use it for such. The Federation had claimed the
uninhabited world--since no one else wanted it,
as it
consisted of little more than sterile desert and a
hostile
atmosphere--and built airdomes that contained
hangars, restaurants, and bars, none of which were
MINDSHADOW
particularly enjoyable places to be, but which were
always crowded to capacity with bleary-eyed space
travelers. Star Base 12's popularity was
due not to the
quality of its eating and drinking establishments, but
rather to the fact that it was the one spaceport in this
rather remote sector that offered connecting shuttles
to more civilized parts of the galaxy: Rigel
IV, Earth,
Vulcan.
The Galileo's descent into the atmosphere was
rapid. Relaxed by Scott's good-humored
confidence,
Christine leaned forward to watch the viewscreen:
sleek white edifices covered by transparent
domes
rose gracefully from the lifeless yellow soil.
From the
rapidity with which the size of the buildings was
increasing, Christine guessed that the
craft was gaining
velocity, and turned to Scott to ask if they
shouldn't be
slowing.
She never asked the question. The engineer's eyes
were fixed on the instrument panel; the red warning
light was flashing, despite the fact that the fuel
indicator
blithely insisted that the Galileo's reserves were
full.
"That's it, then," Scott pronounced quietly.
"Oh, God," Christine said in a very small
voice.
She crouched low in her seat, no longer wanting
to
watch as the city loomed toward them ominously.
. Spock was not sitting that close to her, but he
could
feel the depth of her terror, although she
sat-quietly
with her arms clasped about her knees. As for himself,
he felt nothing other than a mild sensation of
relief.
Death could not have come at a more convenient time.
He was no longer useful to his
shipmates, the Service,
Star Trek-TOS-027-Mindshadow Page 12
