sigh that seemed to come straight from his heart. "The
captain told me that he spent the night in your
cabin
night before last."
"Yes," she said, waiting.
"Are you telling me that nothing happened between
you?"
He watched the subtle changes in her facial
muscles
as she finally understood his implication. There was
surprise first--the lifted brow, widened eyes,
lips
slightly parted-, but following quickly came something
very much like fury. The lips closed and tightened, the
jaw tensed; she contained her anger, but her eyes
blazed.
"For God's sake, Emma," McCoy said
plaintively,
"do you really expect me to react casually to that?
Do
you really expect me not to be jealous?"
Emma took a deep breath and sat back in the
chair.
The anger glimmered for a moment more, then was
extinguished as rapidly as it had first appeared.
"No,"
she said calmly. "No, I don't expect you
not to be
jealous." She knitted her hands together in her lap
and
looked down at them.
"But my reaction is two questions for you. First--is
that what you think of me, Leonard?"
"Emma, are you so naive to think that if a man
sleeps over in your cabin, it's absurd for
anyone to
think he might have made love with you?"
"If you're suspicious, then your first reaction
should be to come to me and ask me what happened,
not to pout for two days, and not to jump to whatever
you may think is a logical conclusion."
"All right," McCoy conceded icily. "What's
the
second question?"
"What the hell business is it of yours anyway?
We
haven't come to any sort of understanding about other
relationships."
McCoy rose and turned away from her, clasping
his
hands behind him as he stared into the darkness of the
inner room. "Maybe it's none of my business
at all,"
he said, the anger in his voice replaced
by sadness. "I
know I have no right to be jealous. But I am.
I'm
jealous because I felt our relationship was
special, I'm
jealous because I have feelings for you that I haven't
felt in a very long time, and I don't want
anyone to
take you away from me."
"No one's going to take me away. If I
leave, it will
be because it's time for me to leave." Emma rose from
her chair and placed a hand lightly on
McCoy's back,
but he did not turn around. "I asked you if that was
what you thought of me because I thought you understood something
about me--I am a loyal person. I
would never do something to hurt you, Leonard, not
unless it absolutely couldn't be
helped. Even if I were
physically attracted to Jim Kirk, I would not
act on
it."
McCoy turned halfway toward her in the
darkness. "Are you attracted to him, Emma?"
Her gaze was steady and sought no pardon. "If
I
said I didn't find him attractive, I would
be a liar."
He turned away instinctively, to hide his
hurt, but
she placed a hand on his face and drew it gently
toward
her. "But I love you. I gave him a hypo and
it put him
to sleep before I could get him out of my cabin.
That's
all there was to it."
"All?" McCoy's eyes searched hers so
hopefully
that she felt pity for him. She took a deep
breath.
"No, not all. He got a little relaxed . . .
and he
kissed me. That was all."
McCoy sighed with relief. So she was telling the
MINDSHADOW
truth, she and Jim... "As you pointed out, we
don't
have an understanding about other relationships.
Would you like to?"
She smiled at the realization that he believed her.
"Of what sort?"
"How does marriage strike you?"
Her smile vanished, replaced by something very
close to panic. "Leonard . . . no, that
wouldn't, be
possible."
"Why not? I admit it's an old-fashioned
idea, but
still a popular one--"
"It's not that I think it's a bad idea--I
love you very
much--but you will remain on the Enterprise and I will
be reassigned somewhere else."
"Well then, just request a permanent assignment
here. You don't have to be reassigned--"
"I do. It's the nature of my job."
"What the devil are you talking about?
Medical
personnel can request permanent assignments,
especially
married medical personnel." His tone became
heated again.
"Please try to understand--comt's the agreement I
have with Star Fleet."
"Well you could change the agreement, then.
Certainly
someone---" he almost said, the captain "---can
pull some strings so you could be assigned here. If
you'd just rather not marry me, please say so."
"It's not that." She closed her eyes at the
hopelessness
of explaining it to him. "Please, there's no point
in talking about it any more. I'll have to be
reassigned
somewhere else soon, and that's the way it is."
He panicked. "How soon?"
"I wish I knew," she said, with a misery that
broke
his heart. "I'd prefer to spend what time I have
with
you, if you'll let me. I do care about you."
He pulled her close to him and kissed
the top of her
head. "I'm going to do everything in my power to keep
you on this ship. In the meantime, I'd like to ask one
favor."
"Anything," she murmured.
A smile played at the corners of his mouth.
"Call
me next time you're going to be two days late for
dinner."
"Your concentration is imperative, Spock,"
Tela'at
Stalik admonished sternly, "if you are to make
any
progress."
Spock directed his gaze away from the window and
back toward the flame statue. Outside, a
light rain fell
upon the water-starved desert, one of those rare gray
days on Vulcan when the sun did not scorch the
sky
orange.
Spock repressed a sigh and attempted once
again to
concentrate. He sat cross-legged beside
the Tela'at as
both regarded the flame statue and Stal'ik
explained the
process of meditation for the twentieth time.
Spock's
mental agitation was increasing daily, along with his
forgetfulness. The lessons with Stalik had become
cruel parodies of the lessons Spock had
taken as a
child; but then, he had retained the information, and
had understood. Now it seemed impossible.
As Stalik droned on in monotone, Spock
became
drowsy staring at the flickering flame. With each
passing
second, his irritation at Stalik increased--the
lessons
all seemed interminably long, and he wanted
more than anything for Stalik to finish and leave.
"Spock," Stalik snapped.
Spock started; he hadn't heard a word Stalik
had
been saying.
The Tela'at's regal serenity seemed
incongruous
with his words. "You are a dreadful student,
Spock.
After weeks of daily lessons, you have not mastered
MINDSHADOW
even the first level of meditation. I am beginning
to
form the opinion that you will never do so."
The muscles in Spock's body tensed, although his
expression did not change and his eyes remained
fixed on the flame. "Perhaps you are right,
Tela'at." He
turned his eyes on his teacher. "Then why do you
continue to instruct me?"
Stalik's tone, unlike his words, was not
insulting,
"It is difficult to believe that an adult
Vulcan could not
master such elementary concepts."
The temptation was great to defend himself by explaining
the extent of his difficulties, but Spock held
his peace; he would not further shame himself by
excusing his weaknesses. Instead he said, "Why
does
the Tela'at waste his time with me?"
"Out of respect for your father."
Stalik's response
was calculated to inspire remorse, but in
Spock's case
it merely served as fuel for his anger.
For the father, not the son. "If the Tela'at does
not
expect me to progress, is not such a waste of
his time
illogical?"
Spock knew full well that his question contained the
ultimate insult to one who had passed through the
rigors of Kohlinahr--the intimation of
illogical, ill-considered
action. Stalik had no trouble interpreting
Spock's intent: he rose stiffly to his
feet.
"This will be the end of my instruction, Spock," he
said. "You are correct. There is no logic in
continuing
the lessons."
Spock remained seated before the statue; he did
not
watch as the Tela'at left.
But Amanda had seen Stalik leave, and went
to tap
lightly on Spock's door. She was not at
all prepared for
the angry stranger who answered.
"Spock is everything all right? Stalik was
scarcely
here ten minutes..."
Spock stared stonily down at her. "I
insulted the
Tela'at. I indicated that further lessons were
illogical."
"Illogical? Spock, I don't understand."
"The lessons were a waste of time, Mother. I do not
wish to discuss it further." He began to retreat
back
inside the room.
She caught him gently by the elbow. "What do you
want me to tell your father, then? How can I tell
him
that?"
The mention of Sarek seemed to infuriate
Spock; he
practically shouted at her. "That is none of my
concern.
You may tell him whatever you wish."
She drew back and dropped the elbow, mouth
open.
"Spock, what's wrong?"
"You know. Must you shame me into saying it?"
"Please... I don't understand."
He turned his face away from her, miserable.
"The
mind rules. I cannot relearn them. I can no
longer
function as a Vulcan--comI apparently cannot
even control
my temper as well as a human. And my
memory is
getting worse."
"Spock." Amanda's voice was soothing.
"You'll
learn, I promise you... it's just that it will take
more
time. You were used to learning so quickly. You must
be patient. It will all come back."
"No." Spock fought despair with anger.
"No. Mother, can't you see... I'm not improving
slowly.
Each day, I'm getting worse, forgetting more and
more . . .
"Then let me call Dr. McCoy. Perhaps we
should
increase the medication."
"The medication hasn't helped," he said dully.
"I
am going to get worse, and that is why I shall leave
here as quickly as possible, before I bring further
shame to my family."
"But where will you go?"
MINDSHADOW
"A star base hospital. Perhaps Star Base
Twelve."
Hot tears gathered behind Amanda's eyes; she
wanted to stamp her foot, to scream, but she had
lived
with Vulcans for too long. "No," she commanded with
a mother's determination. "You will not go there. You
will stay here with us, where you belong."
He shook his head. "I don't belong here,
Mother.
You and father have been shamed enough, especially
after the trouble I have caused with the Tela'at."
"I don't give a damn about Stalik,"
Amanda said,
losing her own temper at last. "I don't care
if he tells
everybody in ShiKahr. And don't you ever, ever
say
that we're ashamed of you. How could you even think
such a thing?"
His jaw twitched in a scarcely visible spasm.
"Are
you forgetting, Mother, that I am a telepath?"
Amanda quickly clapped a hand over her open
mouth, but did not succeed in stifling the first sob.
Perhaps she wept from surprise as much as from
paint Spock had never said anything cruel to her
before, nor accused her of anything untrue. Now
he
was doing both. She disappeared to the safety of her
room before she embarrassed them both any further.
Spock stood frozen with horror at what he
had just
done. Amanda was probably the last person in the
universe whom he would choose to cause pain. But
even though Amanda was hidden in her room on the
other side of the house, Spock could detect the
faint
sound of her weeping. A human would not have
heard
it.
.. An ugly, muffled sound. Spock had heard
it only
once before, when he was four years old, standing
outside the door to Amanda's room; it had taken
him
some time to realize that his mother was responsible
for the wrenching, faraway sound. Spock, the child,
had been terrified. Sarek had come out of the room,
and for an instant the noise had stopped. "Go and
comfort your mother," his father had said, in a voice
gentler than Spock had ever heard before. "You are
her only child."
He had not understood, but he had gone inside.
He could not go to her now.
Instead, he went to the cabinet in the kitchen where
Amanda kept the medication and poured the capsules
into his hand. They really were rather pretty--n
intensely brilliant shade of purple--and quite
useless.
SP-OCK'S hand closed over them in a tight
fist.
Perhaps... not totally useless ....
Chapter Eight Captain's Log,
Stardate 7006.4:
Under orders of Star Fleet Command, the
Enterprise
has left Aritani in order to deliver
delegates
to an emergency meeting of the Federation
Council which is being held on the planet
Vulcan.
The Fidelity, a patrol vessel currently
assigned to
the area, will take the Enterprise's place as
watchdog,
although I frankly doubt that the presence of
any ship will serve as a deterrent to the raiders.
The meeting's purpose is to determine whether
the Federation should continue its involvement
with Aritani given the growers' refusal to accept
further Federation protection. While a case can
be made for abiding by the Aritanians' wishes, the
fact that the planet's mineral wealth makes it
an
attractive target for exploitation by unfrly
powers has led the Federation to consider continuing
protection. Intelligence sources indicate the
Romulan government may already be eyeing
the
planet for use as a mining colony.
The murder of the Romulan prisoner is still
unsolved. The murder charges pending against
Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott have
been dropped on the ground of insufficient
evidence;
three witnesses verified his presence on
the engineering deck at the time of the murder.
Lieutenant Tomson informs me that she has
uncovered
no further evidence in the case.
He awoke with a gasp, heart pounding so hard he
could scarcely catch his breath. He looked about
to
reassure himself that he was in the garden, under the
hanging arbor, and that he had been dreaming--a
nightmare of something intensely purple, something
that filled him with a sense of terror.
Spock straightened and intentionally slowed his
breathing. He had dreamed of the pills, no doubt,
because he had held them in his hand and studied them
for some time, contemplating what might happen if
he
swallowed them all. Some lingering shred of logic
had
saved him, had reminded him that he was uncertain of
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