McCoy dragged his thoughts back to the situation at hand. Clearly, he mused, the captain had a surprise in store. Or had he already met Marcus's son and put the surprise behind him? Bones had no idea. He'd been so busy with these medical checkups, he hadn't seen Jim Kirk in a day or so.
"Well, then," he said, turning to the personal computer Dr. Boudreau had been kind enough to provide, "why don't we get started?" He called up the colony's roster, figuring that he could identify the boy by his first name alone. Unfortunately, when he keyed on it, the machine came up with two Davids.
Of course, neither of them were David Marcus, but McCoy had known that in advance. If there'd been a second person by the name Marcus, he would have taken note of it back on the ship.
Apparently, the boy had been given his father's surname. But not knowing who David's father was, Bones had no choice but to ask.
"What's your last name, son?"
For the first time since they'd come in, David looked to his mother. He seemed confused. McCoy wondered about that. Surely, it wasn't a difficult question for a child that age, especially one with such obvious intelligence in his eyes.
"Tell the man," his mother advised him.
David turned to McCoy again. "Marcus," he answered. "Like my mom."
Bones absorbed the information. "I see," he said.
"Is something wrong?" David asked. He was perceptive, McCoy remarked inwardly. Definitely that.
"I wouldn't call it wrong, exactly. It's just that you're not listed on the colony personnel roster." He regarded the boy's mother. She didn't seem all that surprised, he thought. "Could David have been listed under some other surname for official purposes?"
She frowned slightly. And a moment later, she turned to her son. "Would you excuse us a moment? I have to discuss something with Dr. McCoy."
David shot her the kind of withering look children give their parents when they're excluded from conversations. But he didn't question her; he just left.
As the doors shooshed closed behind him, Carol Marcus returned the doctor's scrutiny. There was a decidedly no-nonsense cast to her features, something Bones would have called defiance under different circumstances.
"Dr. McCoy," she began, "David is on the colony personnel roster. He's just not on the one you have. And the reason he doesn't appear there is that Dr. Boudreau was doing me a favor."
Bones didn't understand. He said so. "What were you trying to do? Keep me from examining him?"
She shook her head. "No. I'm not that foolish." She lifted her chin slightly, almost exactly the way the boy had earlier. "A long time ago, I knew Jim Kirk quite well."
He nodded. "The captain's mentioned you once or twice. He spoke well of you. But that doesn't explain—"
"He doesn't know I have a son," she interrupted. "And I want to keep it that way."
McCoy began to ask why. But before he could get the words out, all the pieces fell into place.
Kirk's relationship with Carol Marcus had ended about ten years ago. And there was something about the boy's eyes that seemed rather familiar, now that he thought about it. He cursed softly.
"You understand what I'm saying," she observed.
"I think so, yes. The boy is Jim's son."
"Yes, but only biologically. As I'm sure you know, your captain has no inkling David exists." She sighed. "I wish they'd sent some other ship—some other doctor, who wouldn't have noticed at a glance that David's genes matched up with Jim's. Someone who wasn't aware of our relationship and wouldn't have been able to put two and two together. But they didn't. They sent you."
He looked at her. "They sent me, all right. And once you knew I was coming, you convinced Dr. Boudreau to give me a personal computer, separate from the colony's main processor. And to delete David's name from my roster so Jim wouldn't suspect." He shook his head. "But why go to all this trouble? Why don't you want him to know?"
She looked away from him. "That's none of your business, Doctor."
He glared at her without meaning to. "Doctor—it's his son! He has a right."
Dr. Marcus shook her head. "No," she said softly. "He doesn't. It's up to me what he knows and what he doesn't."
"That's not fair," McCoy protested. "I don't know what took place to make you bitter—"
"I'm not bitter," she told him, her eyes turning hard—though she still looked away.
"Maybe not. But you've made this choice, and it's the wrong one. Blazes, Doctor, put yourself in Jim's place. Imagine someone keeping that kind of thing from you."
She met his gaze. "I don't have to justify my actions, Dr. McCoy, not to anybody."
Bones snorted. "Of all the stubborn—" With a major effort, he managed to rein in his galloping emotions. "For godsakes," he rasped, "give this a little more thought. In a couple of days, the Enterprise' 'll be gone, no matter what you decide. It'd be a damn shame if the captain left without getting to know David—even a little."
Her nostrils quivered. "You don't have to agree with me, Dr. McCoy. You just have to respect my wishes. I believe that's called patient privilege."
Bones bit his lip. She had him there.
The muscles in his temples working, he glared at her. "I know my responsibilities, Doctor." At least one of us does, he added silently.
She nodded. "Good. I'll go get David."
As she turned away from him, he called after her: "At least give it some thought," he said. "At least that."
She didn't answer. Then the doors opened in front of her, and the conversation was at an end.
"So McCoy wanted you to reconsider," said Boudreau.
Carol nodded. "That's right."
"And did you?"
"Uh-huh. But my decision was the same as before. David is my business. Jim's not to know about him."
"I see."
They were in the lab dome, working at adjacent terminals, speaking in low tones, so no one else could hear unless they were really trying. And in a colony as small as this one, people respected one another's privacy.
She turned to look at him. "You don't approve?"
Boudreau shrugged. "It's not my place to approve or disapprove. You ask me to keep David's name off the roster that goes up to the Enterprise, I do it. You ask me not to mention the boy in front of Captain Kirk, I do that too."
"But you don't approve, do you?"
The colony administrator sighed. "Now that I've met the man, I can't help but feel for him a little. He's not a bad sort. In fact, he strikes me as the kind I wouldn't mind having for a friend."
Carol frowned, remembering. "You wouldn't be disappointed, either. He's a very good friend."
Boudreau smiled sympathetically. "That's part of the problem, isn't it? If he was a real bastard, the choice would be easy. If you hated him, you wouldn't feel so guilty. But you don't hate him."
He didn't say the rest; there were others in the room, and even respect for privacy had its limits. But she knew the rest.
You don't hate him. You love him. Still.
It was part of the problem, all right. The night before, when they were walking in the woods, she'd almost weakened. She'd almost said she wanted him back, no matter what.
But it wouldn't have worked, not any better than it worked a decade before. And now there was more than just the two of them to consider—there was David as well. So she pulled in the reins and kept herself from following where her heart wanted to lead.
"No," she agreed. "I don't hate him. But that doesn't change anything. I've still got to look after my son's best interests. And that means sticking to my guns."
"Did I hear something about guns?"
In a long, dizzy moment, Carol whirled and saw Jim standing behind her. She felt her cheeks grow hot.
Had he heard her mention David? She searched his eyes for the answer.
"Something wrong?" the captain asked. He was smiling.
No. He hadn't heard. Her secret was still a secret.
"Nothing," Carol answered. "Nothing at all. You
just startled me, that's all."
"Sorry. I just came to say good-bye."
"Good-bye?" she echoed numbly. So soon? she thought. It seemed as if he'd just gotten here.
Jim nodded. "Dr. McCoy tells me he's finished his checkups, and everyone's got a clean bill of health. And as you know, Spock's staying on a while. So there's no excuse for us to linger."
She managed a smile, but it was nowhere near a match for his. "Well then," she said, "I guess we'll see you on your way back."
For just a fraction of a second, his smile faltered. And she knew by that sign that she wouldn't see him on the way back. The Enterprise would come back for Spock, but the captain wouldn't beam down.
He didn't comment on the possibility directly—which was tantamount to telling her that her suspicion was correct. All he said was, "It was good seeing you again, Carol."
She met his gaze. "Likewise."
He turned to Boudreau and held his hand out. "Doctor."
The colony administrator clasped it. "Thank you for your help, Captain."
And then he was leaving, and Carol felt an ache in her throat. Suddenly, before she knew what she was doing, she called after him.
"Jim! Wait!"
He stopped, turned around, and looked at her expectantly.
Why had she called out? What had she meant to tell him? She didn't know.
And then, something came to her. Something that seemed fitting, somehow—and more important, something that would postpone his leaving by a moment or two.
Carol came up to him and took his arm. "Come on," she said.
His eyes narrowed with mock trepidation. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see," she told him.
As they headed for the exit, the doors swooshed open before them. Then they were outside, in the bright, brittle sunshine.
"You shouldn't be out here without a jacket," he said.
"It'll only be for a minute."
Once they crossed the open space and entered the garden enclosure, it wasn't quite so cold. Still holding on to his arm, she guided him to their destination.
It took him a moment to realize what they were looking at. He smiled. "These are the Klingon flowers, aren't they? The ones you were telling me about?"
"Yes," she confirmed. "The fireblossoms."
Letting go of him, she got down on her knees and dug into the red soil with her bare hands. It wasn't easy to free up the fireblossom's roots; they went deeper than they had a right to. But after a while, he saw what she was doing and bent to help.
Together, they managed to wrest the alien plant from the ground. Smiling as much as she dared, brushing aside a strand of hair that had gotten in her eyes, Carol handed it to him.
"Water it occasionally," she advised him. "At least once a month. Outside of that, you don't have to worry. They're tough to kill."
"A parting gift?"
"Something like that."
"In that case, thank you."
"In that case, you're welcome."
He regarded her. "It always was hard to say goodbye to you."
"You always managed," she reminded him, without rancor.
Jim nodded. Managing it one more time, he took out his communicator. "One to beam up," he said.
In the next couple of instants, he began to shimmer, and then to fade. Finally, he was gone altogether.
Carol took a deep breath, let it out. Her breath froze on the air. Turning to the opening, she exited the enclosure and headed back for the lab dome.
That was the easy part, she told herself. The hard part was still ahead of her.
After all, Spock would be with them for some time. It would take some work to keep him from finding out about David.
Chapter Seven
VHELED TURNED to see his second officer enter the starboard weapons room, responding promptly to his summons. Big-shouldered and strapping, taller than most of the crew by half a head, his large, protuberant eyes sought the captain's. It was easy to read the question in them.
They were still a good day's journey away from Pheranna, and Vheled had inspected the weapons room just a couple of days ago, to see how the new torpedo launchers worked. What could have drawn him back here so soon?
The second officer halted in front of the captain and pounded his chest with his fist. "Is something amiss, sir?" He spoke slowly—a product of the S'zlach hinterlands that had spawned him, and not any lack of intelligence.
Instead of providing an answer, Vheled made a sweeping gesture with his left hand. A moment later, the room was empty of all personnel except the two of them: himself and Second Officer Kruge.
Kruge's dark, wispy brows came together over the bridge of his nose. He seemed on the verge of repeating his question, then appeared to stop himself. Perhaps he'd seen someone repeat a question to a captain on the last ship he was attached to.
Vheled stroked the starboard disruptor console, allowing Kruge to squirm a little. It was good to remind one's officers who was in charge, particularly when one was about to give so unusual a command.
At last, the captain looked up and met Kruge's gaze. "No," he said, "nothing is amiss. At least, nothing that can't be fixed with a minimum amount of effort."
The crease between the second officer's brows only deepened. "I don't understand," he replied frankly.
Vheled decided he'd played captain long enough. "I have discovered you intend to assassinate First Officer Gidris."
Kruge didn't flinch, but something in him stiffened. To his credit, he didn't ask how Vheled knew; he just accepted the fact and went on from there. "That is correct," he confirmed.
The captain shrugged. "Normally, I do not interfere in such matters. I leave it to the parties involved." A pause for effect. "However, this time is an exception. This time, I will stand in your way."
Kruge absorbed the information with stony equanimity. "Is it permitted to ask why that should be?"
Vheled nodded. "You've served me well since you arrived on the Kad'nra. You've shown great promise. Great skill, and great determination. You deserve an explanation."
And the captain gave him one. He left out precious little, so that by the time he was done, Kruge knew almost as much about their mission as he did.
"So you see, Second Officer, there is no room for personal ambition on this ship—at least until we complete our mission. For a while, you will have to put the Gevish'rae before your own ends."
Kruge nodded. "I will do that gladly. Like you, I have no love for the Kamorh'dag. However, I have one request."
"And that is?"
The second officer's mouth turned up slightly at the corners. "That you refrain from informing Gidris of my intention to kill him. It would, after all, make my job that much more difficult when the time comes."
Vheled thought about it for a long time, while Kruge patiently awaited his answer. "All right," he said finally. "I will keep your intention a secret. But that's as far as I'll go. I won't stand in the way of his finding out from others."
Kruge grunted. "Fair enough. And when I am first officer, I will make you wonder how you ever tolerated a puris like Gidris."
The captain chuckled, finding new respect for his second officer. "See that you do, Kruge. See that you do."
"Beautiful, isn't it?" asked Sulu, arranging the soil around the fireblossom with loving care, admiring the place's newest acquisition. Nor would he have been any less attentive if someone other than the captain had placed it in his hands for safekeeping.
Uhura sniffed it. "No scent?" she asked.
"None that we can smell," the helmsman told her. "But if you were of a slightly different humanoid species …" He let his voice trail off meaningfully.
Chekov gazed at the Klingon plant, with its flower the color of a twilight sky over Petrograd. The overhead illumination in the botanical garden gave the long, full petals an almost iridescent quality. "It is wery beautiful," he agreed, then paused. "But there is something about it …"
Uhura looked at him
. "Yes?"
The ensign shrugged. "Something … predatory. As if it vere about to leap up and take your head off."
Sulu chuckled. "No chance of that. It's not even carnivorous."
Chekov grunted. "As far as ve know."
Uhura shook her head. "As far as we know," she echoed. She put her arm around the ensign. "You know, Pavel, for someone who aspires to be the captain of a starship one day, you're a little too eager to ignore the facts."
The helmsman nodded as he finished his ministrations. "And a little too cautious of the unknown." Giving the soil one last pat, he brushed his hands off. "If you're afraid of a Klingon plant, what are you going to do when you come up against the Klingons themselves? Run the other way?"
"For your information," Chekov replied, straightening, "I have come up against the Klingons. And I sairtainly did not run."
"You were sitting on the bridge," Sulu reminded him, "right next to me. I'm talking about meeting the Klingons face to face—mano a mano."
The Russian harrumphed. "It vould make no difference. I am not afr—" Suddenly his eyes fixed on the fireblossom and went wide. "Vatch out!" he cried.
Reacting instinctively, Sulu snapped his hand back and clutched it to his chest. It was only after he'd reacted that he realized how badly he'd been duped.
"Vat are you afraid of?" Chekov asked, smiling innocently, his own hands clasped behind his back. He tilted his head. "Not a little plant, I hope?"
Uhura put her hand over her mouth to conceal her grin. She looked at Sulu.
Gradually, the helmsman smiled too. "I guess you got me that time, Pavel."
Chekov patted the plant in an almost paternal way. "I guess I did at that."
McCoy was on his way to the gym when Kirk caught up with him.
"Didn't you hear me calling you, Bones?"
The doctor had heard all right. "Calling me?" He shrugged. "I didn't hear a thing," he lied.
The captain looked at him penetratingly. "I've got to tell you," he remarked, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you were avoiding me."
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