Trek TOS story: Wider Than The Sky (part IV)
***
McCoy was just approaching the outer doors to sick bay with his burden when they swished open unexpectedly and he found himself face to face with Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott and two security guards. Scott balked in surprise, eyes widening as he took in the peculiar sight of a disheveled Christine Chapel draped limply in McCoy's arms. To his credit, he found his voice somewhat faster than the red-faced CMO.
"Doctor McCoy!" he exclaimed. "What in blazes is going on down 'ere? I get a call on the bridge sayin' there's some kind of medical emergency in sick bay, and then I can't get any answer on the com."
"Sorry, Scotty," McCoy grunted, shifting his hold once again as he felt Christine beginning to sag in the middle. "We had to evacuate sick bay. There wasn't anyone to answer the com. "
"Evacuate?" Though it hardly seemed possible, Scotty's dark eyes grew even rounder.
"Yep. Something to do with the captain's condition." The downward slide of warm flesh had begun again, and McCoy finally abandoned all propriety in the face of impending disaster. "Here.” He braced himself for one last exertion and heaved Christine's limp body into the arms of a dumbfounded Mister Scott. "Take her into the hallway."
As he turned and hurried back towards ICU, McCoy realized that the painful pressure and confusion that had been clouding his thoughts had eased. "And don't worry, he shouted over a shoulder. "I think Spock has everything under control."
"Under control?" Scotty glanced down at the unconscious woman in his arms, and shot a glare after the retreating back of the CMO. "Are you daft, man?"
***
"Spock!"
Interference. A summons. Someone calling from the edge of consciousness. Who? Why do they call us?
Ignore it. It does not belong. Only we belong. We drift. Entwined.
"Spock, come out of it man!"
This time, sensation. Someone shaking our (?) shoulders. Annoyance. Why will they not desist? Let us be.
"Spock, dammit!"
A slap. Smarting cheek. Awareness.
McCoy.
Affirmation.
We must go.
Denial.
We must part... I must go. You must stay.
Panic!
I will return.
Alarm! Need! Desperation!
There is no fear. I am with you. Rest.
Spock gently dissolved the tendrils of thought that connected him to the mind of James Kirk, pulling out of the meld as softly as a mother tip-toes away from the cradle of her sleeping child.
"Spock!" the voice was too harsh in Spock's ear. The grip of fingers, painfully tight around his upper his arm.
"Please, Doctor..." he rasped, voice rough from disuse. "You may unhand me."
The fingers loosened and Spock straightened, taking a deep, restorative breath before turning a bland eye on the CMO hovering at his side. "You required something?"
The dim lighting of the ICU accented the lines and shadows of McCoy's blunt visage, making him appear even more dour than usual. "You've been in here for hours, Spock," he muttered, keeping his tone low so as not to disturb the fragile peace that seemed to have settled over Jim Kirk.
"The captain was in need."
McCoy's professional eye flickered over the quietly resting Kirk, then homed in on Spock, noting the drawn face, the sallow coloring, the faint tremor of the fine hands. "I know, but even you can't sustain a mind link indefinitely. You're exhausted. You've got to rest."
"I cannot leave him. The barriers I have erected in his mind will not endure without continual monitoring and support."
"So what are you going to do? You can't stay with him constantly."
"I realize that, Doctor." It was testimony to Spock's extreme fatigue that he did not even try to conceal the bleak anguish behind that statement.
"Well...um..." McCoy licked his lips and glanced away, uncomfortable with the naked emotions haunting Spock's dark eyes. "That Nar-Qi bastard has been practically battering down the doors trying to get in here. Half the medical staff wants to sedate him, and the other half wants to do something that involves an airlock, and it is getting damned tempting just to let them have at it. Oh… and Scotty wants to talk with you. The Torrus have been asking if we are going to accept their 'song of healing,' whatever the hell that is. They seem to think you know."
"Yes," Spock sighed and straightened his shoulders. "I have been negligent in my duties as temporary commander, however, the captain's condition was critical." He turned to McCoy, Vulcanian mask once more firmly in place. "I am prepared to provide Mister Scott on a full briefing of the Torran proposal; however, whether we choose to accept or reject this offer will have profound and far reaching consequences for us all. I therefore think it would be prudent to include all department heads in the briefing." He glanced back at the sleeping captain, his voice unconsciously shifting from the precise clipped tones of command to a softer murmur of concern. "It is important I remain near the captain. He made have need of me. If it would not be an imposition I would like to request the use of your office for the briefing."
McCoy smiled in understanding. "Certainly, Spock. That won't be a problem."
"Then if you will convey my summons, I shall meet with all department heads in your office in twenty minutes. Please inform Mister Scott that Doctor Nar-Qi and his team may now beam down to the planet to meet with the Torran ambassador."
“Is that safe?” McCoy looked troubled. “I mean, personally I don’t care if those giant spuds turn his brain into synth-gel, but won’t Starfleet make a stink about it?”
“The Torrus have expressed their regret over the unfortunately attack upon the Captain. It was a matter of miscommunication. I can vouch for their sincerity as I have been in mental contact with the Ambassador Torru Gah Ka Ffsst'tah'preh'hoon concerning this matter.”
“Have you now?” McCoy gave him the hairy eyeball. “That’s interesting, since none of the rest of us knew about it, and I am pretty certain we would not have agreed.” Studying Spock's bland mien, McCoy snorted, “Which is precisely why we didn’t know about it, I suppose.”
Spock, for his part, offered neither confirmation nor denial, merely cocked an eyebrow at McCoy.
McCoy sighed and glanced towards the pale form of James Kirk in the bio-bed. "I'll let everyone know about the meeting, and pass on the message about Nar-Qi.” His gaze shifted to Spock, running a critical eye over the Vulcanian first officer. “I know you are doing everything you can for Jim, but don’t burn yourself out, Spock. We need you too.” He reached out to give one slender blue clad shoulder a light squeeze then ducked out of the room.
Spock closed his eyes for a moment to compose himself, then sank down into the chair beside Kirk's bed and stretched forth trembling fingers.
"My mind to yours..."
***
"With the psychic trauma compounding the physical damage the captain's suffered, it's hard to make at prognosis at this time..." McCoy sat back in his chair and shared a look with each one of the tense faces ringing his office; Scotty, Sulu, and Uhura. His glance came to rest ultimately upon the stoic visage of the Vulcan sitting rigidly upright in a chair that had been arranged at one end of the desk. "The mind melds appear to be helping, but that's not a treatment I particularly sanction."
One dark, Vulcanian eyebrow canted upward. "I find it hard to understand why any doctor, even one's whose methods are, on occasion, as dubious as your own, would choose to disapprove a therapy that has proven successful?"
"You know why!" McCoy bristled, leaning forward to nail Spock with an uncompromising blue-eyed glare. The Vulcan was striving for nonchalance, but McCoy easily noted and catalogued the rigid posture, the shadows around the deep set eyes, the fine lines of tension around the mouth. "Because you're not indestructible, Spock! You can't maintain the level of esper-energy you're expending without risking a mental burnout! If you keep it up you could suffer a complete telepathic breakdown that would leave you in no better shape than the captain!" He punctuated the argument by slammed an angry hand down on the desk. "And I won't allow it!"
"The Doctor's right, Mister Spock," seconded Mr. Scott from his position, perched on the edge of McCoy's desk. "You're in command now. We canna be riskin' yew as well!"
Spock looked as though he would like to debate the issue, but even he could not escape the "logic" of the doctor's words. His prolonged efforts to fortify Kirk's damaged psyche had drained him to a point where his own shields were in danger of collapse. To continue would put them both at risk. "I concede your point, gentlemen," he acquiesced, causing a slight stir of surprise among the Humans present. Did they really think he would fail to recognize the logic involved? "Which is the precise reason I called this briefing. The Torrus have offered a possible solution to the situation, and although the final decision will up to myself and Doctor McCoy, I would welcome your input."
Mr. Scott folded his arms across his chest, and cocked a query at Spock. "Just what do the wee beasties have in mind?"
The Vulcan steepled his fingers as he considered the most efficient way to express the core concepts of the Torran offer to a group of non-telepaths. "The Torrus wish to... make amends for the injury they have inflicted upon Captain Kirk. They realize now that he meant them no harm, and their... collective consciousness... if you will, feels remorse for their action. One way to alleviate this remorse is to undo the damage."
"How do they propose to do that, Mister Spock?" Lieutenant Uhura, inquired, stylus poised to input any necessary notes to accompany a Starfleet report into her PADD.
"By establishing a permanent mental bond with the captain, a telepathic sharing that would shield the captain's mind from inadvertent contact with the mental emanations of others."
"Like a mind meld?" Sulu asked, eager to show he’d been listening during the briefing about Kirk’s current condition and Spock’s rather unorthodox solution.
"No." Spock's lips flattened in distaste. He found it objectionable to discuss something so personal, but it was essential his colleagues have all the information they needed to fully understand the Torran offer. "A mental bonding goes far deeper than a meld, and is much stronger... more... intimate."
"You mean they want to absorb him into the collective!" McCoy's yelped in waspish tones of disapproval.
"No, Doctor. I do not. The captain's individuality, the essence of who he is, could not survive prolonged exposure to the Torran world song. Rather, the Torrus propose that a single Torrd accompany us, as a member of the crew and as the captain's mental partner."
The Humans exchanged looks that spoke of distrust and perplexity. "An' what exactly does that mean?" Scott inquired.
"It means, Engineer, that in exchange for mental stability the captain must share consciousness with an alien mind, possibly for the remainder of his life."
There was a stunned hush as those present confronted the implications of this statement.
"Oh, my God..." McCoy blanched, his words of disbelief echoing the sentiments of everyone in the room. "Spock, we can't condemn Jim to that! There's got to be another solution! What about a Vulcanian healer? You said if we could get him to a healer..."
"That was before Torran attack, Doctor. The Captain is in esper-crisis. Even with my continued mental assistance he... would not make it to the Starbase 16, the closest location with access to a healer.”
"Well... there's got to be something..." With unseeing eyes, McCoy scanned the objects on his desk, his focus inward in search of a solution, something that would save Kirk's life without sacrificing his personal integrity. "What if we did allow the Torrd to bond with Jim? Couldn't we then take him to Starbase 16 or Vulcan and have a healer dissolve the bond and repair his mind?" He glanced at the first officer hopefully. "They'd be right there to help with any complications."
The grim set of Spock's mouth did not ease. "I have considered that possibility. I would estimate the chances that even the most skilled healer could successfully dissolve such a deep bond without damage to either bond partner as less than four percent."
"What? No decimal places, Spock?” McCoy snarled, his churlish words a ruse to cover profound dismay.
"It was an estimate," Spock replied, expression neutral, "and as such, subject to imprecision."
Face pinched with strain, McCoy glared at the Vulcan. "You sound almost like you want to hand Jim over to those Torrus and let them crawl around inside his mind!"
"Doctor," there was an edge to Spock's tone than warned of pressures building beneath the placid surface. "Emotional outbursts will not help to resolve the situation. It is not only the captain's well being we must consider. From birth through death, each individual Torrd is able to contact the Torran collective world song, to become a... 'musician' in a constantly shifting racial symphony. Establishing telepathic communication is, for a Torrd, as natural as breathing. However, in order to protect the captain's personality from mental dissipation, the Torrd who bonds with him will have to sever all contact with the Torran collective. In essence, what the Torrus are willing to do is comparable to you agreeing to render yourself deaf, blind and speechless."
Spock's words seemed momentarily to have done just that. For several seconds, no one in the crowded office seemed able to find anything to say.
It was McCoy who finally spoke. "I'm sorry, Spock," he murmured, as contrite as his irascible nature would allow. "I didn't realize."
If he had been Human, Spock would have chosen that moment to indulge in a heartfelt sigh of exasperation, as it was he merely quirked an eyebrow. "It is hardly logical to offer an apology to me, Doctor. I am not here to pass judgment, merely to relate pertinent data."
McCoy looked as though he weren't quite willing to believe that, but he subsided into silence.
Ever the pragmatist, it was Mister Scott who voiced the issue they'd been warily skirting. "Mister Spock, am I to understand that the captain must bond with one of those beasties or he will die?"
"There is a twenty five percent possibility the captain could survive unbonded," Spock corrected, "however, without telepathic intervention, he will certainly become incurably psychotic. The only way to insure his continued mental as well as physical well being is the establishment of a mental bonding with an individual capable of helping him erect mental shields."
"Well then," Scott shook his head, "there's nothing for it. Whatever we think of the Torrus, we have to go through with it."
"Scotty!" McCoy protested. "We can't just...
"Would you rather let the captain die, Leonard? Aye," he nodded in sympathy, "it sticks in my craw too, but I don't see any other way."
"And what about Starfleet," snapped McCoy, unwilling to give up the argument. "What are we supposed to tell them? Don't you think they might have something to say about having one of their starship captains bonded to one of those... those... aliens? How do we know it won't affect his command ability?"
"We don't," Spock replied, expression impassive. "However, from what I learned while in telepathic communication with the Torrus I consider it unlikely that the proposed bond will in anyway interfere with the captain's ability to function as an individual entity. I realize that the concept of telepathic bonding may be difficult for many of you to comprehend, but the captain will not be diminished by the experience. Rather, his awareness will expand as he incorporates the insight of the Torrd into his own perceptions."
"What if Starfleet doesn't buy that?" McCoy shot back, arms folded across his chest, his words a battering ram directed at Spock's certitude. "What if they decide to relieve him of command?"
Spock allowed one eyebrow to creep into his hairline. "Then, as Chief Medical Officer and the captain's personal physician, I would expect you to make use of your not inconsiderable powers of persuasion to convince them that their fears are groundless, and that the captain is perfectly fit for command." He paused just long enough for McCoy to recoil in surprise at the implied praise before concluding, "Just as I would expect you to raise concerns if, after examining the captain, you disagree with that assessment, Doctor."
McCoy was still stewing over an appropriate reply to these words when Spock added, somewhat reluctantly, "It is unfortunate that the Torrus are not more Humanoid in appearance and mental emanations. The.... dissimilarity... may cause the captain some difficulty."
Sulu glanced around the table at the others. "What do you mean?"
"Human and Torran code and organize information using very different methodologies. The adjustment in thinking processes could prove unsettling."
McCoy's eyes narrowed warily. "Are you saying that these Torrus are so different that Jim might reject the bonding, like used to happen with organ transplants before the use of cloned tissues?"
"Your comparison, while characteristically inexact, Doctor, is illustrative of the problem. Due to the differences in their physiologies, a bonding between a Human and a Torrd could be unstable. However," Spock quickly added before McCoy could launch into another of his tirades, "the possibility of the captain experiencing anything more than mild discomfort is negligible. Kirk has, as I have noted in the past, a very dynamic mind. I suspect, of the two, it will be the Torrd who will find accommodating the bond the most difficult."
"I still don't like it," growled McCoy like a bad tempered dog unwilling to give up a favorite bone.
"Neither do I," Spock replied. "But as Mister Scott pointed out, we have little choice. If the captain does not bond with a telepath capable of shielding his mind from the mental emanations of others within a matter of hours, he will either die or suffer irreparable mental damage. Continuing to debate the issue for much longer will soon render the matter null and void. The decision must be made and made quickly."
McCoy glanced around, noting that everyone's attention seemed to be focused upon him. Apparently, through some sort of silent nomination, he had been appointed the voice of dissent . If Spock convinced him, the others would follow suit. He wanted to protest, wanted to demand some other answer, but he could think of nothing else to offer and Spock was right when he said they were running out of time. Whatever they decided in the next few minutes was going to have a profound affect upon Jim Kirk the remainder of his life and his was the one voice missing from this debate. What would he want? What would he ask for? Insanity or death? Life or individuality? Continuance or uniqueness? McCoy was certain of only one thing. He believed in life. He'd made it his life's work and passion to fight death, to beat back the shadows of darkness using all his intuition, medical knowledge and the tools of his profession. He could not allow a friend to cross into that cold void while the chance remained that he could be saved. He only hoped they were making the right choice. "All right," he grumbled, sagging back in his chair. "Let's do it, an' pray Jim forgives us."
Spock nodded and rose to his feet. "Then, gentlemen, if there are no further questions?" He waited a beat, then continued when no one chose to speak, "The briefing is concluded. If you will all return to your duties, I shall supervise the situation from here."
In subdued silence, the attending department heads filed out of the room, leaving Spock and McCoy alone.
“Well, Spock,” McCoy barked, the dour cast to his features making it evident he disapproved of the entire predicament. “Congratulations! You got your way.”
But Spock seemed less triumphant than resigned. “I do not recall that you offered any viable alternatives.”
McCoy’s expression curdled even further. “Just because I don’t have another idea doesn’t mean this is the right one!” He frowned and stood. “At least try to pick one of those Torrd things that doesn’t smell too bad or make everyone sick every time it shows up on the bridge.” He headed towards the door, muttering more to himself than Spock. “Maybe some of them come in pretty colors.”
But Spock stepped into his path. “Doctor, if I may. I would like to request a few more moments of your time.”
McCoy was heartsick, and in no mood to indulge the Vulcan at the moment. "What it is? I've got to check on Jim. After all, I'm the one who has to certify him fit to act as a lab specimen for this little experiment of yours." He saw the Vulcan flinch and regretted, not for the first time, his inability to keep a reign on his temper. True, Spock had unintentionally contributed to the events that had made this difficult decision necessary, but none of this was really his fault, and harsh outbursts like that would do nothing to alleviate the situation.
"Sorry, Spock..." He ran a hand behind his neck, massaging tight muscles. "It's been a rough day."
"Indeed," Spock braced one hand on the desktop. "I concur."
The Vulcan had maintained firm command of himself during the briefing, but now his composure was slipping, and McCoy could see just what the last several hours had cost the first officer. Spock seemed on the verge of keeling over, and although, as a friend, it warmed McCoy that the Vulcan trusted him enough to allow such a lapse in his presence, as a doctor, it set his alarm bells clamoring.
"Here..." He resisted the urge to take Spock by the arm, knowing that in his weakened condition the physical contact could breach his mental shields. Instead, he gestured towards a chair. "Sit down before you fall down. Now, what is it you needed to tell me."
Spock's collapse into the chair was characterized by none of his usual grace, and he took a moment to compose himself before answering. "I am guilty of omission. During the briefing, I failed to mention that there is another possibility available to us."
McCoy's eyebrows rose. "Another possibility? Something that would help Jim?"
Spock nodded.
"Then why didn't you say anything?"
Spock seemed to ponder the question. "The matter is... of a private nature. I did not wish to broach it in an open forum."
"But you'll discuss it with me."
Spock cocked his head at the doctor, his look one of barely disguised irony. "You are the CMO. I could hardly embark upon a course of action involving the captain without your becoming aware of it."
"Oh, I see," McCoy crossed his arms with a petulant harrumph. "So it's not my professional opinion you're after, you just don't want me to get in the way."
Spock was apparently too fatigued to exchange the customary verbal fisticuffs with the doctor. "In point of fact, Leonard, I would value your counsel. I find I am not exactly impartial upon this issue."
Leonard? The use of his first name cut straight through McCoy’s defenses. With anyone else, the cynic in him would have suspected manipulation, but not with Spock. The Vulcan didn’t operate that way. Taking his cue from the first officer, McCoy relaxed into a more informal mode, perching himself on the edge of his desk. "Certainly. What can I do?"
"While it is true that the captain requires a telepathic bond to augment his ability to shield and repair the damage of the esper-trauma, it is not prerequisite that the telepathic partner be a Torrd."
McCoy brows drew together in a frown. "I don't understand."
"There is another telepath on board who could form such a bond and might even find the experience... desirable."
"Who...?" But McCoy realized even as the word slipped past his lips. "Spock! You're not talking about yourself?"
This time Spock did sigh. "I fail to understand the Human predilection for couching a positive statement in a negative framework. You are well aware that I am referring to myself. There is, you must admit, a somewhat limited number of suitable candidates available."
McCoy leaned forward apprehensively. "Do you know what you're saying?"
There was a very un-Vulcanian twinkle of amusement in the dark eyes as Spock regarded the doctor. "If, by that illogical statement, you are asking whether I fully comprehend the ramifications of my proposal, I would answer that I, perhaps more than anyone, am in a somewhat unique position to anticipate the possible consequences to both myself and to Jim."
"But Spock..."
Spock held up a hand, forestalling further protests for the moment. "Leonard, Jim and I have shared a link for some time, a... residual effect of our repeated mind melds.” He shifted almost imperceptibly in his chair, which was as close as a Vulcan could come to fidgeting with chagrin. "It was a situation I could have rectified, but chose not to. The link provides me with a sense of connection with the captain, an awareness of him that could, and has, proven useful in hazardous situations." He exchanged a meaningful look with the doctor. As the captain's closest companions, they had both had more than their share of dealing with the aftermath of said hazardous situations on the mind and body of James T. Kirk.
"On occasion," Spock continued, clasping his hands before him on the table, "I have heard you express the desire to keep the captain on a leash, I presume, in expectation of curtailing some of his more impulsive behavior. If you wish, you may think of the link as a mental leash of sorts. It cannot be used to prevent Jim from undertaking any action he chooses, even those I deem ill-advised, nor would I elect to use it in that manner if it were possible. Mental constraint was never the purpose of the link. However, it does allow me to monitor Jim's whereabouts and mental state when necessary."
McCoy was listening to Spock's disclosure in rapt fascination. Sudden revelation illuminated his craggy features, and he snapped a finger at the Vulcan. "That's how you knew Jim was still alive when he was trapped in Tholian space!"
"It... was a factor."
McCoy flapped his arms in agitation. "Well, why didn't you say anything?"
Spock bit back the impulse to sigh once again. Due to the doctor's predilection for irrelevancies, the conversation had veered somewhat from its intended course. However, it would do no harm to indulge McCoy's questions, and might even engender his cooperation in the matter of the bond. "Humans harbor some... misconceptions concerning telepathic abilities. Though I never used the link in any way that would have interfered with the captain's autonomy or invade his privacy, there are those who would have suspected some sort of mental coercion on my part. I did not wish to reveal anything that might bring into question the captain's command ability."
McCoy had to agree with the Vulcan on that. Starfleet bureaucracy might be tolerant of alien practices, but that did not mean they were ready to embrace them whole-heartedly, especially when they involved the captain and first officer of one of their Constellation class cruisers. "Does Jim know about the link?"
Spock's stiffened in affront, stung by the insinuation that he would keep such information from Kirk. "He can not sense me unless I allow him to; however, he is entirely aware that the link exists and could have requested its dissolution at any time. He did not."
McCoy pursed his lips in speculation. "So, he wanted it too."
"I would theorize as much. We rarely discussed the issue."
"Spock..." McCoy studied the Vulcan thoughtfully. "This bond you're suggesting... it's quite a bit more personal than the link you've been describing."
Spock inclined his head in confirmation.
"And more intrusive."
"Your point?"
"Are you sure you want to go through with this? I mean, I'll be the first to admit that I don't much like the idea of Jim being bonded to some giant alien potato who makes me want to loose my lunch every time I see it, but... Oh, hell..." he glowered, "there is such a thing as 'beyond the call'. I realize you feel responsible for this whole thing, but I don't want to risk your mental well being as well."
A faint trace of something that might have been affection softened the austere countenance. "Do not concern yourself, Leonard. You are correct in your deduction of my motivations; however, the fact that I believe I owe an obligation to the captain does not necessarily decree that I find that obligation a distasteful one. Though I have often found fault with your 'logic' in the past, I cannot deny that you possess a exceptional talent for insight, and I am aware that you have suspected for some time that the captain... that Jim, is singularly important to me. Do you truly believe my willingness to form a mental bond with him is dictated by duty alone?"
McCoy's eyes went wide. "You want this," he breathed, looking at Spock in something akin to amazement. "You want to bond with Jim!"
Again, the faint suggestion of amusement. "I believe that is what I have been trying to express."
"But, I thought... I mean... umm..." A disconcerted McCoy cleared his throat, trying for professionalism. "Everything I've read about bondings suggest they are pretty much exclusive to... ah... male and female married couples. Won't there be...uh... problems...?"
Spock seemed almost to be enjoying McCoy's discomfiture. "Certainly there will be complications..." he admitted. "However, the situation is not without precedent. There have been male bondings in the past. Vulcans even have a name for it. Kun-ut Tu-Puksu. The Way of the Warriors. It was a common choice among young males in ancient times."
"In ancient times... what about here and now? What about your family?" McCoy badgered. "What about T'Pau and Vulcan? Will they accept...?
"As you may or may not be aware," Spock commented dryly, "my parents share one of the few Vulcan-Human bondings in history, a union considered quite controversial at the time of their marriage. If they find reason to object, I will merely point out that I am guided by a family tradition that follows the doctrine of Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. As for the reaction of Vulcan, they would find it difficult to refute my decision. It is, under the circumstances, the most logical choice. "
"But what will it do to you, a bond like that? How will something like that effect you and Jim? What does it feel like...?" Realizing how invasive such questions would seem to a man who valued privacy as much as Mr. Spock, McCoy sought to explain himself. "I'm not being some kind of voyeur, Spock. It's just that, as your doctor..."
"I quite understand," Spock assured, steepled fingers brushing his lower lip as he contemplated. "However, I do not think I can provide you with the answers you seek." He tilted a look at McCoy almost apologetically. "The... telepathic connection that exists between bond mates is... difficult to explain. The touching of minds is so intimate... so personal... the feelings involved of such intensity that I do not think I can find appropriate words to express them in a context you would comprehend."
"The 'feelings involved'..." McCoy's eyebrows nearly shot through the ceiling. "Are you telling me that you can't explain because the bonding experience is too emotional!"
Spock's expression made it obvious that he hadn't considered the matter from quite that perspective; however, after a moment of thought he capitulated in a motion that was half shrug half nod. "Essentially correct."
McCoy shook his head, appearing dazed. "Well, that's a first..."
"Indeed." Spock made a move to rise. "Now, Doctor. It is time I returned to the captain."
"Not so fast," McCoy held out a restraining arm. "I still have a few questions."
Half out of his seat, the Vulcan shot an expectant look at the doctor, but McCoy had made no move to vacate his own perch, an indication that those "few questions" might take a while. Resigning himself to fielding further "irrelevancies" from the doctor, Spock sank back down in his chair and waited.
Now that he had the Vulcan's attention, McCoy seemed at a loss as how exactly to phrase what was on his mind. He fretted a few moments, rising to pace the room before firming his resolve and stumbling brusquely ahead. "After what happened on Vulcan with T'Pring..." he broke off, wishing to spare Spock the discomfort of those particular memories, "Well... I did a little digging into Vulcanian marriage practices." Shooting the Vulcan a stubborn look, he continued in gruff tones, "I'm your doctor. I wanted to avoid any similar surprises in the future, and I thought it important that I know all I could. My interest was purely professional."
Spock nodded, somewhat bemused by McCoy's apparent vexation. "I did not suspect otherwise. You would have been remiss in your duty had you not made some inquiries into the matter."
The reply seemed to mollify McCoy somewhat and his defiance melted away to be replaced by more reposed attitude of shared camaraderie. "It wasn't easy finding out anything, you know? You Vulcans guard your privacy more closely than the Hydra of Vester guard their young."
"But you did find out something." Spock quirked an expectant eyebrow. McCoy was too much a professional and time too short for the doctor to have engaged him in a purely philosophical discussion of Vulcanian mating practices.
"I did." A forbidding frown tugged at McCoy's features. "Spock, is it true that when one member of a bonded pair dies the other member dies also? That one can't survive without the other?"
If Spock was surprised by the inquiry, it was not revealed in his impassive reply. “The death of a bond mate often results in the death of the other, yes, but it is not an imperative. Rather it is a conscious choice on the part of the surviving member. With the death of one's bond mate the mental pain resulting from a broken bond and the grief over the loss of one's life mate are so overwhelming, that death often seems... a welcome alternative to the mental and emotional turmoil."
“I see.” McCoy tugged at his lower lip. “Spock, you and Jim aren't exactly leading the quiet life at a Mars retirement colony. You're both in positions that put you in a great deal of danger. I don't have to tell you how many times we've had to pull one or both of you out of the fire or patch you up when you've gotten singed around the edges, what happens if...” He fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with having to voice his thoughts. Though not a particularly superstitious person, McCoy couldn’t help shake the feeling that by speaking his fears aloud he might draw the unwanted attention of the Fates. “What I mean is… the ship might survive the loss of one of its commanding officers during a crisis... but to lose both of you because one can't survive without the other...”
Spock took pity on the physician and addressed the underlying concern. “If the captain and I bonded and something were to happen to him, my duty to this ship and to those aboard her would take precedent over any personal considerations. It would be... difficult... but I could continue to function despite the loss."
“But in what condition?”
“Impossible to predict without knowing the depth and intensity of the bond, and that cannot be determined until after the bond has been established.”
McCoy folded his arms. “That's not very comforting.”
“I was not trying to conciliate, merely providing information.”
“And what about Jim?” McCoy took to pacing again. “Could he carry on without you if he needed to?”
Spock considered. “The captain is not Vulcan. Though the loss of the bond would undoubtedly cause him great distress, he would not suffer the same mental pressures towards self-destruction. Nor would he be burdened with the expectations of a culture that deems it noble to follow one's bond mate into death.”
“But wouldn't he be right back where he started?” McCoy spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “Without you to shield his mind, wouldn't he go insane or die anyway?”
Spock paused for a moment, turning away. For a moment his head dipped. Then he straightened, shoulders squared as he addressed his reply to the far end of the room, not to McCoy directly. “It is my intention to attempt to instruct him in the mental disciplines necessary to erect his own barriers. In time, he should master enough control to be able to safeguard his mental integrity without my continued assistance."
Expression cagey, McCoy circled into Spock’s line of sight. "Attempt to instruct...? Should master...? That sounds a little inconclusive, Spock.” He braced his hands on the desk and leaned forward, looming over the Vulcan. “What if it doesn’t work? What if you can't teach Jim how to shield? What then?”
Spock sat back further in the seat, but resisted the urge to stand and distance himself from the unwanted scrutiny of the overly astute physician. Folding his hands on the desktop, he sought to remain unruffled.
“Humans have a deplorable tendency to demand answers to questions about which there is little or no data available. The universe is full of possibilities, and it is illogical to speculate about events which may or may not occur contingent upon other events which also may or may not occur. In short, I cannot predict all the potential ramifications of establishing a mental bond with Jim, but I do know what will happen if I do not.” He lifted his gaze to the doctor, dark eyes as earnest as McCoy had ever seen them. His voice went soft and rough around the edges as he concluded. “I would rather incur the risk, wouldn't you?”
McCoy held that fervid stare for a long moment. "I'm convinced you want this bond, and that you have considered what it will mean to your relationship with the captain, but what about Jim?" McCoy's voice was gentle, but vehement. Such questions might not be easy for Spock, but they must be asked. "What if he doesn't want it? What if he wakes up and resents what you have done?" He reached out and very deliberately placed a hand on Spock's sleeve just above his wrist. "Could you handle that kind of rejection?"
This time Spock did not even attempt to hide the look of fondness that tempered his features. "Leonard, your concern is laudable; however, it is also unwarranted. Considering the seriousness of Jim's condition, I might have been tempted to proceed without his approval, but it was not necessary. As you know, I have been in close mental contact with the captain for several hours. He is aware of the situation and has consented to a bond. He finds it the most ... agreeable... alternative available."
"He told you that?"
Spock paused, deliberating over how much to reveal. The specifics might cause some doubt on the doctor's part. However, he was their friend and deserved truth, not deception. "Not in words. His mental condition has deteriorated to a point where language is beyond his capabilities. I ... sensed... his feelings on the matter."
McCoy sighed and ran a hand over his face, wishing he could simply wipe away the burdens of the last hours. "I guess I'll have to trust you on that. You're the telepath. I'm not really sure why you even wanted my opinion." He waved one arm in an offhanded gesture. "I'm a doctor, not a soothsayer."
"You are also Jim's friend," Spock announced, as though that answered everything.
"And the others? Aren't you even going to consult them about this?"
"If they are willing to acknowledge the necessity of a bond I do not think they would object to my superseding the Torrd.” He angled a glance at McCoy. "And I did inform them that the final decision would be up to the two of us."
McCoy returned the look. "And what if I object?"
Spock's lips flattened in vexation. "That would be unfortunate. The bonding would be much easier to accomplish with your cooperation."
"Meaning you planned to go through with it even if I did raise a fuss."
The Vulcan apparently decided to keep his own counsel on that issue.
"That's what I thought," McCoy grumped out of the corner of his mouth. "Then I guess it's like Scotty says, there's nothing for it. I have to give my permission."
With a slight nod of gratitude, Spock rose. "It would facilitate matters."
McCoy paused for one final moment of silent, internal debate before letting out a huff of air and indicating the door. "All right then. After you, Mister Spock. Let's go check on Jim, shall we?"
***13 days later***
Chin propped upon his folded arms, Jim Kirk watched the dappled lights of brilliantly burning stars slide by the viewport in the observation deck. He liked this room, liked its quiet, dim lighting and shadowy corners, the solitary sense of peace it brought him. He often came here to be alone with his thoughts. Tucked like a forgotten secret along the upper portion of the hanger deck, the observation deck offered opposing sets of viewing portals.
Through one bank of windows, he could watch the activity on the flightdeck below-the coming and going of shuttles and maintenance bots, the members of the flight deck crew scurrying about their business, the movement of cargo loading and unloading - watch and keep a finger on the pulse of his ship and the life she carried aboard her. Across the aisle, another set of portals allowed him to gaze out at the stars through the thin skin of the ship, to lose himself in the vastness of space stretching outward and away.
And, as always, here he stood, straddling the two, holding the line between their fragile space borne home and the interstellar sea of unknowns upon which they sailed.
It was a fitting place for a starship captain to contemplate his place in the universe and, more immediately, his place inside his own head.
Which, at present, was less than assured.
Spock was known to comment that humans had a plethora of trite “sayings” which they apparently felt compelled to apply to almost any situation, and McCoy, for his part, was fond of applying them.
Kirk was presently contemplating a few of his own. Something about being careful what you wish for, and wanting being more satisfactory than having. However, those sentiments were counterbalanced by others, admonishing, “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” as well as, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
Fact was, there were plenty of pithy sayings that might suffice, but what use were they to Kirk? What did the ancient philosophers know of mind links and bonding? Of the humiliation of having your inner most thoughts and insecurities laid bare? Of the shame of knowing your darkest secrets could be dragged into the light, exposed and revealed in their full repulsiveness…
Not that Spock would ever pry.
But still…
It bothered him, and no matter how many hoary, old platitudes McCoy trotted out and insisted he try on, he still felt that he was wrestling with something no one else could truly understand. No one except Spock of course - but he couldn’t go to Spock with this because Spock was the problem!
However, his innate honesty would not allow him to deny that he had wanted this.
Hadn’t he?
Had longed for it. Begged for it. Asked for it. And agreed to it. Of course, as McCoy would point out, he hadn’t exactly been operating on all thrusters at the time, and the alternatives of death or madness hadn’t really left him much of a choice.
Still. It was a decision he had made, and now he needed to learn how to live with it. Only, he didn’t really know how to begin to do so. He was no longer alone in his head, and it left him feeling naked, vulnerable and frightened in ways he never had before.
He knew his recent erratic behavior was the result of his own fears and anger at finding himself caught in this situation. But who had ever said the universe was fair? Even Starfleet’s Golden Boy had to be prepared for some hard knocks. That was the reality. He knew he was hiding. And he also knew it made no difference. Although, at the moment he wanted nothing more than to get as far away from Spock as allowed by the limited confines of a starship, he also knew that running half way across the galaxy would not be far enough. Spock was now a part of him, and Kirk could not hide from him, anymore than he could hide from himself.
Though over the past few days, he’d been making attempts to do both, and, if he was being honest, doing a piss poor job of it.
Kirk reached up and massaged the back of his neck. He felt another super-sized headache on the way. He’d been getting a lot of those lately. Stress, McCoy offered in his singularly unhelpful way. Spock had tried to teach him methods for reducing the tension through Vulcanian meditation - the kohl-tor. The problem being that when Kirk was agitated, he found it very hard to calm his inner “shal.” And the headaches tended to strike when he was agitated, of course.
Simple logic.
Presently, McCoy’s dispensary offered a better chance of relief, but that meant risking running into the irascible doctor, and Kirk was still smarting from their last encounter. No, he would just have to “deal” with the headache along with everything else
*????*
The inquiry came, not in words, but in simple understanding. The closest translation he could formulate was something akin to, “Are you well?”or “Should I be concerned?”A query as to location along with a hint of disquiet. He was obviously projecting again.
The decoding was nearly automatic, but unnecessary. It was something he was still learning. Natural telepaths, Spock had explained, did not need to commune in words. However, as a Human who was used to verbal communication, Kirk had initially couched all his mental conversation in “words.”
In fact, during those first disorienting days, as he tried to accommodate to the new bond with Spock, he had taken refuge in that which was most familiar - spoken language. Restless and bedridden, he had frequently engaged in tense, sometimes volatile, discussion with what must have appeared to others to be a mere figment of his imagination. Even McCoy, who had known Kirk was in actuality conversing with Spock, had appeared flustered by the situation. It didn’t help matters that the Vulcan continued to carry out his duties with implacable calm, demonstrating no outward indication that he was immersed in mental conversations with Kirk, even when their tête-à-tête grew downright contentious.
Thankfully, the need to verbalize the exchanges with Spock had faded by the time McCoy released Kirk from Sickbay, thus the captain hadn’t had to deal with trying to explain to concerned crewmembers his tendency to walk around muttering to himself.
A surge of petulance over the whole situation urged Kirk to disregard the Vulcan’s entreaty as to his current state of mind. However, if he did, he knew Spock would just track him down, and with the bond between them, doing so was irritatingly easy these days. Besides, ignoring Spock was just pettiness on his part. Doing so would only lend credence to McCoy’s most recent accusations. “Self-pity does not suit you,” he’d scolded after finding Kirk sulking in Engineering. “This isn’t easy for Spock either, so pull your head out of your ass and stop behaving like a toddler having a tantrum!”
As much as he valued McCoy’s unbridled honesty, there were times Kirk regretted the whole, “speak freely” thing they had going.
Still, he was man enough to admit the doctor had a point, so with a rare and rueful bout of introspection, he resisted the temptation to growl, “Leave me alone!” while slamming a mental door in Spock’s face. Rather, he did his best to project assurances that he was, “doing just fine, Spock.”
The second mental probe seemed slightly skeptical. Okay, so apparently charming deflection did not work so well on a telepathic plane. If he admitted it, very few of his tricks served him in this particular arena. He felt unsettled… insecure. It was all so damn hard.
Another mental touch, this one of reassurance. A metaphysical pat on the back of sorts. “I’m here. You’re okay,” or something.
Or something.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? The “or something.” What was he? What were they? What exactly was all this? And why couldn’t he just accept and adapt? Why the need to fight this thing between them?
Amusement.
Kirk bristled. Damn that Vulcan.
Feeling decidedly uncooperative, Kirk didn’t want compassion in return. It made him even more ashamed of his behavior.
“Acceptance is not your way.” And this time the communication was in words. Spock’s resonant tones murmured in his head, still trying to meet Kirk half-way, despite being repeatedly rebuffed as of late. “You must test the boundaries. Tug the le-matya by the tail, as it were. It is who you are.”
Such fondness, and if he admit it to himself, love. There was no hiding from the bond. He was loved, and he fought, and was mortified.
“I’m sorry, Spock. I’m sorry. I’m no good at this. I’m sorry.”
“Jim,” and affection was a bright, shining thread running through the thoughts, entwining with them like a filigree of gold. “You are who you are. When you are ready, you will come to me, and we will go forward together. I knew when I chose this, that the path would be difficult for both of us. I deemed it worth the struggle. I do not seek to cage you. I would not. To do so would be a travesty. You are as free as you have ever been.”
“Am I?”
“Always…” And the sense of presence faded. Spock was shielding again, heavily this time. Kirk was alone. Truly alone, isolated in ways he had never realized before the bond. It was both liberating and painful. He desired it, and yet he hated it.
He sighed and dropped his forehead into his folded arms. “Damn.”
Damn Spock. Damn the Torrus. Damn Rocas and Ruel. Damn Vulcans and mind links and damn the whole capacious universe and everything in it - himself most of all!
He let the wave of resentment and despair wash through him, bitter and caustic. Pointless vanity. He indulged it, reveled in it for a moment... then let it go. Let it slip away with his ragged breath.
He found himself chuckling, less in amusement than self-mockery. McCoy was right. He really needed to extract his head from his hind end and get on with getting on. Lifting his head, he gazed out at the pinprick lights that spoke of distant suns and distant worlds. The lights were blurry, and that was when he realized there were tears on his face.
“Buck up, Jimmy. Your problems are only as big as you let them be.” He recognized his father’s voice, George Kirk, whispering in his ear. Not a bond this time, just memory. “A tidal wave or a ripple. It is up to you. You can choose to drown or to swim. So what is it going to be?”
It was a voice he had heard many times throughout his life. A no-nonsense voice and one that had helped him survive the horrors of Tarsus IV, that had seen him though the chaos of his first space battle, that had steadied him the first time a crewmember died under his command - a young, security officer who had bled out in his arms under a sickly, yellow sky on some barren, dust ball in space.
“You don’t grow as a person by taking the easy path, son. You become a man, a good man, a brave man, by surviving the difficult path, by facing adversity, and coming out stronger for it. No one ever said life would be easy. It is, and should be a challenge. Take that challenge, Jim. Rise to it, and you will be that man.”
The universe wasn’t going to wait around while he stamped his feet and pouted. He had a starship to run. He had worlds to explore. He had a life to live. Wallowing did not suit starship captains. Wallowing did not suit him.
Straightening, he scrubbed the wetness from his cheeks and tugged his shirt into place. “Take the challenge, Jim,” he told himself, then reached out with a thought.
“Spock? Are you there?”
A moment, then…. “Jim? Are you well? Do you require assistance?”
“I think…” He paused, and tried again. “I’m ready, Spock.”
Silence, but the impression of deep satisfaction and relief. Then, “I will await you in my quarters.”
And James Tiberius Kirk strode out of the observation deck, looking ahead and intent upon the business of “getting on.”
End
***
The title to this story comes from a poem by Emily Dickinson:
The Brain -- is wider than the Sky --
For -- put them side by side --
The one the other will contain
With ease -- and You -- beside --
The Brain is deeper than the sea --
For -- hold them -- Blue to Blue --
The one the other will absorb --
As Sponges -- Buckets -- do --
The Brain is just the weight of God --
For -- Heft them -- Pound for Pound --
And they will differ -- if they do --
As Syllable from Sound -
***
Notes:
Vulcan Telepathy: I have always found the customs of different societies beguiling - from earth based cultures, to those in fiction. The idea of exploring the Vulcanian civilization and the “mysticism” of the Vulcan mind-arts has enticed me from the beginning, and so I delved into them somewhat in this piece. One of the gratifying aspects of The Original Trek and Vulcanian culture is that so much was left “unexplored” and open to interpretation. For a writer, this is like being given a boundless sandbox in which to play! Is my version the definitive? Certainly not. It is just one more possibilities in a universe “full of possibilities”.
Vulcan Language: Vulcanian linguistics are very tricky, and I don’t begin to suggest I have any real understanding of the Vulcanian language. However, I have tried to be at least within the ballpark when it comes to my use of Vulcanian terminology, or as accurate as one can be using online sources for a language that does not actually exist. (Special thanks to the Vulcan Language Dictionary and the Vulcan Language Institute sites)
kae-kan rivinik: composed of kae (mind) kan (child) and rivinik (immature)
Kun-ut Tu-Puksu: composed of kun-ut (bonding) Tu- (Way of) and puksu (fighter)
kohl-tor: meditate (in the Vulcan manner)
shal: the essential self, the being of a person
le-matya: a large, desert dwelling predator native to Vulcan
The Torrus:
Singular - Torrd
Plural -six or less - Torri
Plural more than six - Torrus also name of planet
Term of Respect -Torru
Adj - Torran
Are hermaphroditic - reproduce by budding