DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of JM Lane and is copyright (c) 2000 by JM Lane. Originally published in Heart Treks #3. This story is Rated PG.

The Good of the Many

JM Lane

It had been a terrible battle, but Spock was pleased that the Enterprise had once again gained the upper hand. Even so, she was badly damaged and there were heavy casualties -- including Peter Preston, Mr. Scott's teenage nephew, who had worked with him in Engineering. The sight of a bloodied Scott holding the badly burned and dying boy in his arms was still fresh in the Vulcan's mind; sharp pain assailed him once again at the thought.

As he had once told Jim, Starfleet duty was not particularly safe... and as a result, deaths and injuries would happen, no matter what. But this -- this insanity should never have happened. Not when they had a shipload of children, including Saavik, the young Vulcan/Romulan hybrid he had rescued and taken under his wing.

"Oh, my God." David Marcus's horrified voice brought the Vulcan back to reality. The young scientist turned deathly white as he recognized the energy wave on Spock's sensor. "It's Genesis! Khan's activated Genesis!"

Sensitive Vulcan ears caught the hoarse whisper, and one upswept brow rose. "Is that cause for concern, Doctor?"

David Marcus's blue eyes were as wide as saucers; Spock was inundated with the young man's fear in spite of his shields. "Damn right it's cause for concern! Genesis is set to detonate in less than four minutes and we can't stop it!"

"Did you not build a failsafe into it?"

"No. We saw no need for one."

Spock suppressed an exasperated sigh. Humans seemed to have a talent for overconfidence, rarely considering the possibility of failure or their creation falling into the wrong hands... and now that overconfidence could be the death of them all. But recriminations would serve no purpose now; the more immediate concern was getting the Enterprise out of here.

Unfortunately, the only way to do that would be to warp out, and the warp engines had been taken off-line. In addition, Mr. Scott had been overcome by radiation. Spock then reached a fateful decision. He was the only other person aboard with sufficient knowledge of the engines to repair them in time. The Captain-turned-First Officer swung around in his chair and made his way to the turbolift while the others crowded around Jim and David.

Had he spoken of his intentions, Jim would surely have tried to stop him and there was no time for arguments. No thought for his own life and safety entered the Science Officer's mind; all that mattered was saving his shipmates. As far as the Vulcan was concerned, it was more logical to sacrifice one life than several hundred. There would be sorrow among the crew because of his actions, but it couldn't be helped. If he did nothing, none of them would survive.

* * *

Spock arrived in Engineering a minute later, finding McCoy bending over the unconscious Scott. He ignored the Doctor and set about his task.

He was nearly to the Reactor Room when he felt McCoy's hand on his shoulder. "Are you out of your Vulcan mind? No Human could tolerate the radiation in there!"

The Vulcan's eyes again closed in mixed pain and affection upon hearing the Doctor's voice. Regrettable that such a thing was necessary -- and even more regrettable that McCoy would never know how much his friendship had meant to Spock. "Doctor, as you yourself are so fond of pointing out, I am not Human."

"You can't go in there," the Chief Surgeon repeated.

I am sorry, Doctor. I must, the Vulcan told his friend silently. Though I have valued our friendship... more than you will ever know. Outwardly Spock merely distracted McCoy. "What is Mr. Scott's condition?"

"Well, I don't--" the Doctor began, turning his back. That was all he got out before Spock made his move. Strong, slender fingers found the nerve at the junction of McCoy's neck and shoulder and exerted pressure. The Doctor's body stiffened and his eyes rolled back in his head before he slumped in Spock's arms.

"I am sorry, Doctor. There is no time to discuss this logically." The Vulcan gently lowered McCoy to the nearby deck. "Farewell, my friend," he whispered as he raised a hand to McCoy's temple and pressed gently on the nerves leading to the Doctor's brain. "And remember."

He and Jim already had a bond, but he was unavailable. Here was a perfect opportunity to tacitly acknowledge his unspoken but nonetheless sincere feelings of friendship for McCoy -- by trusting him with his katra, the Vulcan equivalent of the Human "soul." It was possible for a Vulcan to transfer all of his knowledge and experiences to another's mind via one telepathic burst in order to preserve them. There was a danger of their overpowering the other person's mind, but that was a risk he had to take... which was why only a close friend or family member was a proper candidate to undergo such an experience.

There was no time for him to ask McCoy's permission as he normally would, nor did either have any choice in the matter. The Vulcan knew this even as he acknowledged the possibility of the Doctor reacting adversely to the katra transfer because of his reputed allergy to mind-melds. In addition, this would create a bond between them, as with himself and Jim. He and the Doctor would always be a part of each other now. That is, in the event they escaped this madness and were able to return to Vulcan for the fal-tor-pan.

Spock pulled the protective gloves from Scott's hands and put them on as he entered the Reactor Room, ignoring the shouts and pounding on the door as Scott and McCoy came back to life.

"Spock, get out of there!"

"Spock, no! Spock!"

Their faces were white with fear and their voices full of horrified realization. Spock knew that they knew what he intended to do, just as they all knew he would not survive unprotected. But he could not allow himself to even acknowledge them; the warp engines had to be returned to working order, no matter what the cost to him. At first the radiation seemed pleasant, like sunlight -- but as Spock moved toward the reactor, the radiation increased geometrically. The deadly radiation formed an aura around his hands as he reached for the reactor housing. The rays easily penetrated his body, quickly spreading all over him.

As he worked, Spock thought over what had happened in his life, and in spite of himself felt pride for all his accomplishments and thankfulness that he had found friends such as Jim and the Doctor. He had but three regrets: that he would be unable to see his mother one last time and tell her how much he loved her, and that he had never apologized to Christine Chapel for the pain he had caused her because of his inability to respond to the love she bore for him, in spite of his deep inner longing to do just that. It had warmed his lonely heart beyond words to know that someone cared so deeply for him, even though she deserved better.

Even so, he had been more thankful for and appreciative of her unswerving devotion than he could ever have expressed. He could no more have lived without it than he could have lived without Jim and McCoy's friendship. If only he could have been the kind of friend they deserved... or the kind of suitor Christine deserved, someone who was not afraid to show his feelings -- love her fully and completely. His third regret was young Saavik, who was so much like him... and yet unlike him. He identified with her because they were both hybrids. Specifically, both half-Vulcan, although his other half was Human and hers was Romulan.

Because of this, it would be even more difficult for her than it had been for him. She was the younger sister he had never had -- emotionally, if not by blood... and he had vowed upon finding her at the abandoned Romulan outpost that he would do all he possibly could to make her life's path easier than his own had been. The wild, ragged child she had been had fought him relentlessly, but he had persevered, and was well pleased with how she had turned out. She would make a fine officer. He only wished he could have remained to see just how far she would go -- and been able to tell her how very proud he was of her.

It was at this point that the radiation began to take its toll; Spock felt the very cells of his body succumbing. He left a dark smear of emerald blood on his sleeve as he wiped perspiration from his face, also noting blood in the gloves covering his hands as pain began to crawl along his nerve ends. He was no longer able to control it. At last his fingers found the manual control which would bring the warp engines back on-line, though his tortured flesh opposed every move he made even as the wheel began to turn. He moved it further, feeling his skin disintegrating inside the gloves as they grew slippery with his blood.

"Dear God, Spock, get out of there!" McCoy shouted, once again pounding on the Reactor Room door. Spock smiled through his pain. Even if he had wanted to, he could not. It was too late. This was the last coherent thought he remembered having as the engines groaned, protested... and burst back into use.

* * *

The main viewscreen showed the battered Reliant receding, but their movements seemed painfully slow. "Time!" Kirk called.

"Two minutes, forty-five seconds," Saavik replied.

"Distance from Reliant."

"Four hundred kilometers," she reported.

"We're not going to make it, are we?" Sulu asked glumly.

Kirk shot a look in David's direction; the younger man shook his head sadly. A moment later, however, there came a shout from the Bridge Engineering station. "Captain! Main engines back on-line!"

"Bless you, Scotty!" Kirk muttered under his breath, then shouted, "Go, Sulu!" The helmsman automatically pushed the ship into warp; within seconds Reliant dwindled to a dot. A heartbeat later the dot became light. Kirk watched as the Genesis wave hurtled after them, dissolving everything in its path even as Sulu forced another warp factor out of the straining ship and she plunged out of the nebula into deep space.

The huge cloud which had been the Mutara Nebula began to spin around the nucleus which had been Reliant; Kirk watched, awestruck. "Reduce speed," he said once they had gone a safe distance. The new planet began to stabilize as Sulu complied. At that moment the turbolift doors opened, and Carol Marcus came onto the Bridge. Kirk turned toward her.

"My God, Carol, look at it..." He reached out a hand; she smiled and took it as he opened a channel to Engineering. "Well done, Scotty," he said. Only then did he think to glance in the direction of the Science station. "Spock--" he began... but the station was vacant. Where in God's name had Spock gone?

Just then, McCoy's hushed voice came from the intercom. "Jim, you'd better get down here."

"Bones?" What the devil was McCoy doing in Engineering?

"Better hurry," the Doctor finished; in that terrible moment, Kirk knew what had happened -- and who had really saved them.

Spock... Please, God, no! his mind cried out even as he sprinted toward the 'lift. "Sulu, take the con!" he called over his shoulder. Kirk had never ran so fast in his life. Spock... oh God, Spock! He slid down the sides of the ladder upon arrival, oblivious to the shambles of the Engine Room -- and only then did he allow himself a breath.

"Spock...?"

Scott and McCoy turned toward him, horror and pain in their faces. Kirk forced his way past them and reached for the control to open the Reactor Room door. Scott dragged him away.

"Ye canna do it, sir! The radiation--"

"He'll die!" Kirk shouted, anguished.

McCoy grabbed his friend's shoulders; his voice was quiet and full of pain. "It's too late, Jim. He's already dead."

"Oh, dear God..."

Even as Kirk pressed against the heavy transparent door, Spock -- who had been hunched on his knees, head bowed, halfway across the room -- painfully pulled himself to his feet and straightened his tunic before turning around to head toward his Human friend.

"Spock!"

Kirk's voice didn't stop the Vulcan from running into the door. The latter's face was horribly burned, his voice hoarse with pain. "The ship...? Is she... out of danger?"

"Yes," Kirk assured him.

Spock nodded laboriously. "Please, Jim... do not grieve. It was... logical. The good of the many..." His voice trailed off.

"... outweighs the good of the few," Kirk finished softly, choking back a sob.

"Or the one."

Spock raised his arm amidst excruciating pain to press one bloody hand positioned in the traditional salute against the transparent aluminum wall of the Reactor Room after removing a glove. Kirk matched it with one of his own, wishing he could have taken on some of Spock's pain -- but he couldn't even touch him. Damn your logic, Spock, he thought as a dam broke inside him and tears flowed.

"I... never took the Kobiyashi Maru test," the Vulcan rasped. "What... do you think of my solution?" Kirk was too overcome with grief to speak, so Spock continued. "Jim... I have been, and always will be, your friend. Live long and prosper..."

Just then the agony of radiation poisoning overcame Spock; his hand fell and he slumped against the wall, eyes closing as the arms of death enfolded him.

"Spock! Please, God, no!"

There was no response. His friend was gone. Kirk then hunched against the window and sobbed uncontrollably.

* * *

Death was an unfortunate but accepted fact of life aboard the Enterprise, but never had it happened to this extent. Of course, who could have imagined that Khan would commandeer a Federation ship and kill so many innocents in his mad quest for revenge on James Kirk? No one could, not even Kirk himself. Kirk had been able to bluff, cheat, and otherwise trick his way out of death countless times, but this was one thing he couldn't cheat, bluff or trick his way out of. Spock was really dead.

Why couldn't he have deduced what the Vulcan's ultimate course of action would be? No one knew Spock or the way his mind worked better than Kirk did, though Bones came in a close second. After some thought, Kirk realized why McCoy had been in Engineering -- that was where the heaviest casualties were and where his services were most needed. For a moment he wondered why McCoy hadn't tried to stop Spock from sacrificing himself. He was a doctor, he had the means... then realized that if the Vulcan was truly intent on doing something, no one could stop him.

Humans couldn't think or move as fast as Vulcans, so even though McCoy had likely guessed Spock's intentions, he hadn't been able to think or act fast enough to stop him. Even if he had, none of them would be here now. It would have been illogical to sacrifice all of them in an attempt to save one person, and Spock knew this -- which was part of the reason the Vulcan had done what he did.

So in spite of his inconsolable grief at the loss of his dearest friend, Kirk knew it was the only thing Spock could have done to save them. He also understood why Spock had never mentioned his intentions to him. There had been no opportunity; it had been a split-second decision. Kirk also knew that he would have tried to talk him out of it, and there was no time for debate. Too many lives were at stake -- and with Scotty out of commission, Spock was the only other person with sufficient knowledge and ability.

Yes, it was logical, as he'd said... but that fact didn't make losing Spock hurt any less, or make the emptiness in Kirk's life, heart and mind that the Vulcan's friendship had once filled go away. Even as dear as Bones was to him (and always would be), Spock was something else again. There would never be another quite like him. No one who could be a finer officer or a truer friend. How could he live without Spock beside him? It was as though a part of his heart had been torn away -- his other half was gone.

Of course, he wasn't the only one who had cared deeply for Spock... although he had been the one closest to him. How must Bones be feeling now -- to have had to watch Spock die and not be able to do a thing for him? Or Christine Chapel, for that matter -- the woman who had loved the Vulcan devotedly for so many years? Not to mention Saavik... though there was no way to truly know how and what she was feeling. Spock was the one who had known her best, changed her from a wild hermit child into a highly disciplined Starfleet officer.

Even so, something told Kirk that Spock was the first (and probably only) person Saavik had ever allowed herself to care about. What would become of her now that he was gone? Would she control her grief and get on with her life as he had taught her, or would she allow her Romulan side its freedom in order to express her grief and rage at losing him? He would have to watch her at the upcoming funeral before he could say for sure.

* * *

The crew assembled in full uniform at 0800 hours the following day. Saavik took her place at the torpedo guidance console and programmed in a pre-selected course. Kirk came in last, accompanied by McCoy, Carol and David Marcus -- then the ones who knew Spock best stood together. Christine Chapel stood between McCoy and Uhura, as pale and drawn as Kirk and McCoy were... holding onto Uhura's hand as if it meant her life. But she didn't cry, displaying control worthy of a Vulcan -- but Uhura knew all too well how her friend was feeling, how much Chris had loved Spock. The tears would come later, when they were alone. Kirk's voice brought the Bantu back to reality.

"We are assembled here today to pay final respects to our honored dead -- to grieve for our beloved comrade who gave his life for ours. He did not believe this sacrifice a vain or empty one, and we will not question his profound wisdom at these proceedings."

McCoy tried to keep from breaking down but failed. Instead, he stared straight ahead, overcome with tears.

"Of my friend, I can only say this... that of all the souls I have encountered in my travels, his was the most--" He paused, fighting back tears as he saw McCoy crying. " --Human," he finished, his own voice almost breaking.

All present knew how insulted Spock would have been to hear this... at least outwardly. Logically, he would know that that would be the highest praise Humans could bestow on anyone. At this point, Kirk turned and nodded toward Saavik; she acted instantly.

"We embrace the memory of our brother and teacher... and with love, we commit his body to the depths of space."

As the crew saluted, Scott began to play his bagpipes. The strains of Amazing Grace filled the large room as the black coffin moved into the launching chamber. The lock snapped into place as the door closed. The bagpipes stopped after the missile had been fired; an eerie silence descended on the room. The assembled crew watched the torpedo streak away until it vanished; moments later they returned to attention as Kirk turned to face them.

"Lieutenant," Kirk said.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"The watch is yours. Set a course for Ceti Alpha V to pick up Reliant's survivors."

"Aye, sir."

"I'll be in my quarters, but I don't want to be disturbed unless it's an emergency."

"I understand, sir."

"Dismiss the company."

After that the group dispersed. Kirk noted that Chekov, Sulu, Scott and McCoy left first, then Uhura departed with one arm around a zombie-like Christine Chapel. Soon only Carol and David were left, but Kirk didn't feel up to talking to them. All he wanted was to be left alone, even though he could tell that both wanted to talk to him. Well, they were just going to have to wait -- at least for the time being. David and Carol exchanged glances and the young man followed his father out of the room.

* * *

The others had gone their own way upon departure, but Uhura stayed with Christine because she sensed that her friend was going to need her before long -- and she was right. She had to admire Chris for keeping up the pretense, but knew that she would be unable to do so for long.

"It was a nice service, wasn't it, Nyota?" the female doctor said with forced brightness. "I'm sure Spock would have been pleased... even when Admiral Kirk said that he considered Spock the most Human of all the people he had met in the course of his life."

Uhura forced a smile and nod.

"I'm sure you noticed how not even Dr. McCoy could keep from crying, but I didn't. Spock would have liked that."

But I could tell you wanted to, the other woman thought silently, her heart going out to her friend. Despite her outward appearance, Chris had to be going through untold agony at the loss of the man she loved. She would have to grieve for him sooner or later, or go mad.

"Well, most people would cry at a funeral -- especially if they were close to the person who died," Uhura remarked, looking at Christine from the corner of her eye to see if it would get any reaction.

"I wasn't that lucky, I'm afraid," Christine said. "But I'm not complaining. At least he acknowledged my existence and didn't berate me for feeling as I did."

"I think it would be pretty hard to criticize someone for loving you. Whatever else it may be, love has never been a fault... and even though Spock always claimed he didn't need any such thing, we know better. He needed it just as much, if not more, than we Humans do."

"Too bad we could never get him to admit it," the other woman remarked, a touch of sadness in her voice. "Both he and I would have been a lot happier. I'll never understand why he was so stubborn when it came to that... why he never let me get too close to him. I could have made him as happy as his mother has made his father."

"I'm sure his hesitancy had little, if anything, to do with you. A lot of it probably stemmed from fear of being hurt again. Remember what that witch T'Pring did to him. It's too bad that you had to suffer for what she did... and that you won't have a chance to rectify things."

Uhura was sure that this would set Christine off, if nothing else did. It always had before -- but she was wrong. What would she have to do to get her friend to release her grief? But just when the Bantu least expected it, that was precisely what happened... and over a seemingly insignificant thing.

"How are you doing on that IDIC wall hanging you mentioned the other day? The one you'd planned to give Spock for his birthday?"

"Oh, it's nearly done. I just have the center jewel to do. I know Spock didn't usually feel comfortable receiving gifts, but I was sure he'd have made an exception in this case. But I'll never be able to give it to him now -- never know how he might have reacted to it... because he's gone." Christine's head bowed and her voice nearly broke. This was when the tears began to well up in the female doctor's blue eyes. "He's gone, Nyota. Gone... and I never had the chance to say goodbye -- or how much I loved him."

She walked into her bedroom from the living area and sat down on her bed; Uhura followed her in. "Oh God, Nyota, I loved him so much. What am I going to do? How can I go on without him?" Christine began to sob in earnest and tears began to overflow down her cheeks; Uhura put comforting arms around her grieving friend as her slender shoulders began to shake.

"Go ahead, honey. Let yourself cry," the Bantu woman soothed, stroking Christine's dark hair as the latter buried her face in her friend's shoulder. "I know how much you loved him, even if no one else, including him, did."

She herself had liked and respected Spock immensely, but her grief at his untimely, premature passing was insignificant compared to the grief of one who loved him as deeply as Christine did... but who had been denied the chance to express that love time and again, by the very object of that love. It wasn't because Spock was a cruel person at heart -- quite the contrary. It was just that he had been hurt so much every time he'd tried to express his feelings that he'd simply given up and would no longer risk rejection, even though he logically should have known that Christine could no more have rejected him than she could have stopped a sun from going nova. But that was all water under the bridge now.

"If I'd ever had the chance to know what it's like to kiss him, Nyota -- or hold him in my arms, stroke his hair, feel his body close to mine, it might not hurt so much now. But I couldn't even be granted that much. Was my love for Spock so wrong that I deserved to suffer for it? My God, all I ever wanted to do was love him. Everyone should have someone who loves them. Is that such a crime?"

Tears began coming thick and fast, and words difficult to discern through the sobs. It seemed that Christine could no longer control them... no longer had the strength. That had been all used up at the funeral service.

"Of course not, honey. It was just bad timing, that's all." Uhura made her voice infinitely gentle and sympathetic. "That can happen to the best of us. It doesn't necessarily mean that the person is wrong for us, or that the love wasn't meant to be."

"How could I have been such a fool as to fall for a Vulcan? Especially when I knew their attitude toward such things," Christine berated herself through her tears. She didn't bother to wipe them away; instead, she simply kept her face buried in her friend's shoulder, clutching her as if her life depended on it.

"Don't talk like that," Uhura gently admonished. "You couldn't have known it was going to happen. Besides, you've got to remember that you aren't the only one on this ship who cared about him. You said yourself how Dr. McCoy cried at the funeral. How do you think he's feeling right now? Probably just as bad, or worse, than you do. Not to mention the Admiral and Lieutenant Saavik."

Christine finally lifted her head from Uhura's shoulder; her face was flushed red and her eyes were swollen but dry. "In other words, I should stop feeling sorry for myself."

"At the risk of sounding cruel, yes," the other woman said with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood -- pleased to see that Christine managed a watery smile.

"You're right, Nyota. I've had my time to cry. Now it's time for me to get busy and help the others who are grieving." The female doctor sat up and straightened her clothing. "After I have a shower, a meal, and a good night's sleep, that is."

"Do you think you'll be all right now, Chris? I can stay if you think you'll need me further." The dark woman's voice was laced with concern as she smiled softly at her friend.

Christine returned it as best she could. "No, I think I'll be all right. You can go."

The two women embraced at the doctor's door. "Thank you for being here for me, Nyota."

"That's what friends are for. Good night, Chris." Uhura stepped so the door opened. "See you later."

"Later, Nyota. Maybe we can watch a holovid or something."

"That would be fun. I'll call you once I'm off-duty again."

With one last smile and hug, the women parted and went about their respective business.

* * *

While Christine freshened up and prepared to visit McCoy, David Marcus had reached Kirk's quarters. It had been a real bombshell to learn that the Admiral was his true father. His mother had also kept Kirk and himself apart because of her fear of losing him to his father and Starfleet. As a result, their first meeting had not gone well. In fact, David recalled how he had believed Kirk responsible for the deaths of his friends and colleagues aboard Regula One. He had even attacked him once Kirk had found his way to the core of the lifeless planetoid which the research station orbited.

The revelation of his parentage was such a shock to the young scientist that he was unable to fathom it. How could it possibly be true? Even at that, Carol Marcus had rarely been known to lie, and usually only because she believed it to be the best thing to do for the sake of everyone concerned.

What must James Kirk (it was still hard to think of him as his father) think of him for having gone off so half-cocked and automatically assumed the worst? And how must he be feeling now, after having seen his closest friend die and been unable to do a thing to save him? Would he, David, be able to help the older man in his time of grief, or would he only make things worse than they already were?

These were the troubled thoughts that raced through the young man's mind at warp speed as he stood in front of Kirk's cabin door, trying to get up enough nerve to press the buzzer... but he finally did.

When the buzzer sounded the first time, Kirk had been trying to read the book A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens that Spock had given him for his birthday, but the small print blurred even as he held it at arm's length in a futile attempt to read it. He then searched his pockets for the glasses McCoy had given him, discovering upon finding them that one of the lenses was shattered, rendering them useless. As shattered as his life was... as useless as he now felt.

"The hell with it," he muttered darkly, closing the book and setting it on the table next to his chair, carelessly tossing the now-unusable glasses on top of it. The door buzzer sounded again. Kirk pretended not to hear, bowing his head and burying his face in his hands, fighting back tears as his guts twisted with misery and self-hatred. "Come," he mumbled, quickly pulling himself together as David stepped in. The two looked at each other in silence for a time. The younger man could read the pain Kirk was experiencing in every line of his body, and felt obligated to offer apologies for disturbing him.

"I'm sorry. This is obviously a bad time. I didn't mean to intrude." He half-turned back toward the door, meaning to leave.

"No, don't," came the quiet entreaty. David turned back, but again there was an uncomfortable, awkward silence between them. Neither seemed to know what to do next -- then Kirk apologized to his unexpected visitor.

"Forgive me. I'm not good company right now... but it's not every day that one sees their best friend die before their eyes." The Admiral grabbed his uniform jacket hanging on the back of his chair and shrugged into it, gesturing to the untouched glass of brandy on the table. "Would you like a drink? I poured myself one, but haven't touched it. I guess I didn't want it as much as I thought I did."

David shook his head, noting the false brightness in Kirk's voice and deciding to call his bluff. "Saavik was right. You never have faced death."

The older man looked surprised for a moment, then realized his son had seen through him. Just as Carol had always been able to see through him -- and Spock had always seen through him. "No. Not like this," he reluctantly admitted. "I cheated death, tricked death... then patted myself on the back for my ingenuity." He brushed a hand across his eyes. "I know nothing." His voice was laced with pain and self-loathing.

David's voice was gentle and reassuring. "You knew enough -- enough to tell Saavik that how we face death is as important as how we face life."

"Just words," Kirk dismissed.

"But good words. You should listen to them."

Kirk mentally kicked himself as he recalled the carnage on Regula One. "My God, what a selfish bastard I've been! You've lost people you cared about, too."

"It was understandable. Most of us tend to be selfish and think of our own grief before anyone else's when we lose someone close to us."

Such profound wisdom stunned Kirk; it was almost as though Bones or Spock had spoken instead of David. He looked up at his blond, blue-eyed son, eyes like saucers.

"Then I'd better say what I came to say and be done with it," David remarked quietly.

Kirk frowned thoughtfully. "And what was it you came to say?"

"That I misjudged you, and I'm sorry. I also don't know if I have the right to say this, but I'm proud... very proud... to be your son."

David again turned to go, noting that the older man did not speak. In fact, Kirk was too stunned, but knew he had to. He might not have this chance again. "Please wait," he finally said.

David remained silent as he stood at the door and turned around. The older man -- his father -- approached him, hesitantly holding out his arms. After a moment's startlement, David stepped into them. He felt himself firmly but warmly held close in strong but trembling arms for a long moment before he could bring himself to respond. Thus James Kirk and David Marcus shared their first (and last) embrace as father and son.

* * *

After Uhura's departure and freshening up, Christine headed for McCoy's quarters -- but found it empty. She checked the chrono for a possible explanation, noting that it was around 1800, the dinner hour, so it was possible that Leonard had gone to the Officers' Mess for something to eat. She suddenly realized that she herself was hungry after her crying jag and welcomed the thought of nourishment, even if it was only a sandwich and coffee.

Only when she was nearly there did she consider the possibility that he might not have much of an appetite after having been forced to watch Spock die, along with Kirk and Scotty. Even at that, she was this close, so she might as well check -- and if he was there (or even if he wasn't), get herself something. In which case, she would resume the search after eating.

At this point she reached the doors to the mess hall and entered, calling up a sandwich, coffee and cinnamon Danish in order to accommodate her sudden craving for something sweet. She took her tray to the nearest vacant table and seated herself. A moment later she heard a chair being pulled back and a familiar voice speak to her: Spock's.

"May I join you, Miss Chapel?"

The blood left Christine's face upon recognizing the voice. It couldn't be Spock. He was dead. She was hearing things. Even so, she would know his voice anywhere. What was going on?

"Christine?" The voice came again, holding question this time... but it was McCoy's gruff Southern drawl she heard. The female doctor called up every ounce of physical and emotional strength she possessed, actually managing to look up at McCoy and smile normally.

"Of course, Leonard. I'd appreciate the company."

The Chief Surgeon looked drawn and haggard, but otherwise the same as usual. "Thanks, Christine," he said as he sat down across from her. "It's been a tough last few days -- what with the deaths on Regula One, the battering we took from Khan and the Reliant, and then Spock's sacrificing himself to save us..." His voice lowered and trailed off.

Christine felt a desolate emptiness descend upon her at the mention of the Vulcan's name. Her eyes filled with fresh tears as she bowed her head in pain. McCoy seemed contrite as he noted her actions.

"Forgive me, Christine. I should have remembered how much you loved Spock and how his death must be affecting you."

She forced a smile after lifting her head to face him. "It's all right. I'll survive. It'll hurt, but I'll survive. It's what Spock would want us to do."

"Logical," came Spock's voice again. Christine's head jerked up, her eyes wide with shock as they met McCoy's -- eyes which suddenly did not seem like Leonard's at all. Instead, they stabbed right through her, eyes which seemed to literally read her mind... like Spock's. Was she going mad?

"What did you say?" she demanded as the voice and eyes became McCoy's again.

"I said... I agree with you," was the hesitant answer as the older doctor frowned in bewilderment at the look on Christine's face and the shock in her voice. What had he done to prompt such a reaction from her? "What did you think I said?"

"I thought you said-- Oh, forget it." She waved one slender hand in dismissal. "I must have Spock on the brain even more than usual." Just as I'd swear that I've been hearing his voice... twice just since I've been here with you, she finished in her mind.

"Understandable, especially after what's happened. Don't worry, I'll be here for you if you need me." McCoy's voice rang with sincerity.

Christine smiled in spite of herself. "Thank you again, Leonard. I'll probably need all the help I can get."

Just what happened in the Engine Room before Spock died, anyway? she thought, frowning to herself as she did so. Whatever it takes, I intend to find out. She took a deep breath and jumped in with both feet.

"Leonard, I know you cared for Spock in spite of the arguments you had with him, so you must hurt almost as much as I do as a result of his death... but I really need to know. What happened in the Engine Room before he died?"

The Doctor looked surprised, but began to recount the events leading up to Spock's death in the radiation chamber. Her ears pricked up when he recalled briefly passing out -- but didn't have any idea why or how it had happened. An intriguing theory played at the back of Christine's mind, but she had no real explanation for it either... at least not at this point in time. McCoy seemed to remain himself for the duration of the aforementioned recollection, even bowing his own head and closing his eyes in pain as Christine had a short time before. She laid a comforting hand over his nearest one.

"Forgive me, Leonard. I know how difficult it must have been for you to relive that time. I'd have felt the same way in your place."

"Forgiveness is only necessary where offense has been taken, Christine." Her squeeze was returned as she again heard Spock's voice. She had to be losing her mind! "And it is not the Doctor's -- or my -- forgiveness you need seek. Rather, I seek yours. I regret having been unable to respond to the feelings you bear for me, tell you how much your love and support have meant to me. I... only wish that I had been -- worthy of those feelings. Worthy of you. Perhaps if I had been, matters might have progressed very differently between us."

Christine was shocked into silence, knowing as well as she knew her own name that it was not McCoy speaking to her: it was Spock! But how was this possible? How could he speak to her after his death... and speak through Leonard, of all people? She was well aware that even as much as Leonard had cared for Spock, he was unable to show it as Kirk did. As a result, the Vulcan's friendship with the Admiral was far closer than that between Spock and McCoy, although they were still friends.

Because of the many times Spock had been in life-and-death situations, he had long ago made plans for his possible demise -- and had left his affairs in Kirk's hands. As his closest friend, the Admiral would know best what Spock would want. The Vulcan had also seen to it that he had a burial robe on hand. The fight with the insane and homicidal Khan, as well as his premature detonation of the Genesis Device, had left Spock with no choice but to sacrifice himself for the good of his friends and shipmates.

Then it hit her like the proverbial bolt of lightning. There had to have been a way for Spock (or any Vulcan, for that matter) to preserve their knowledge and skills. If there were a way to do it, Spock would know about it. But what if Kirk had been unavailable to receive it -- and McCoy was? They weren't as close, but they were still friends. Christine felt sure that that was the explanation for Leonard's strange behavior and the times she had heard Spock's voice. It seemed incredible, almost too much to fathom, but was also the only explanation that made any sense. But she had to test her theory before she could be absolutely certain.

"Spock?" she asked hesitantly. "Spock, are you here?"

The reply she received proved her hypothesis correct. "I am here, Christine. I gave Dr. McCoy custody of my katra, or what you would call my 'soul,' or life essence which contains all the knowledge and experience I accumulated during my lifetime. The Admiral was unavailable; in addition, there was no time to do anything but act to save the ship and the crew's lives, even at the cost of my own. It was more logical to sacrifice one life than several hundred." There was a brief silence, then Spock's voice resumed, still coming out of the Doctor's mouth. "In conclusion, I will forever regret having been unable to tell you of my true feelings before my death." The voice was filled with regret and tinged with sorrow.

Christine squeezed the hand under hers again and smiled reassuringly. "You have nothing to apologize for, Spock. I always understood that you couldn't respond as a Human does. That never changed how I felt about you. What mattered to me was being near you. It's good to finally learn how you really felt toward me. Unfortunately there's nothing we -- I -- can do about it now. However, it will be easier for me to go on without you because of this moment. And know this: I'll never stop loving you... not for as long as I live. Even if I do manage to marry someone else."

For a moment McCoy's eyes seemed to change color, and there was a slight upturn of his lips... then -- for an instant -- Christine would swear that the Doctor's face had become Spock's.

"Thank you, Christine."

She smiled and once again squeezed the hand under hers -- then it was McCoy's blue-eyed gaze which met hers.

"Christine, what the hell... happened to me? I feel as though I was... possessed or something. As though someone else was controlling my body, everything I said or did."

That's because someone else is, she thought -- but said, "I'm not a shrink, Leonard. I think what you need is a good hot meal and a decent night's sleep. You haven't gotten too many of those lately, you know."

"That's for sure." The Chief Surgeon gave her a weary smile. "And I hope you're right about those things being all I need to be myself again. Thanks for coming, Chris. You'll never know how much you've helped me."

No, you've helped me -- Spock, she thought with a smile as she stood up. Now I know where your essence is. Her coffee and Danish were cold, and the sandwich only half eaten. Oh well, she'd had too much on her mind to eat anyway... and with the latest startling revelations she had just taken in, there was even more for her to think about. She disposed of her tray and the untouched food after bidding McCoy farewell, departing the mess hall for her quarters where she planned to take a nice, relaxing sonic shower, change into her prettiest nightie and put on her favorite music, then retire to bed.

A short time later she got into bed and wrapped her arms around her pillow, closing her eyes with a contented sigh. Life would be bleak without Spock, but thanks to his posthumous confession (which she would cherish as long as she lived), it would be much easier for her to go on living. Because of this, her lost love now seemed closer to her in death than he ever had in life -- and he would live in her heart forever. Her last waking thought was a vow to tell Nyota about her bizarre yet bittersweet experience. Perhaps the Admiral as well... if she got the chance. That would depend on how busy things got after they picked up Reliant's crew from Ceti Alpha Five.

* * *

Considering all that had happened, Kirk was amazed at how smoothly things were going. One thing was for sure, the damage control crew had their work cut out for them. The Reliant's crew had come through their ordeal none the worse for wear, although some would need time in Sickbay, others counseling, and still others both. Plenty to keep the medical staff busy for some time to come. Even so, how long could things be expected to continue going well? It didn't seem natural. Murphy's Law seemed a more accurate summation: "Whatever can go wrong will go wrong... and at the worst possible time."

Kirk was thankful that there was plenty to occupy his mind as well, although the thought and knowledge of Spock's death, as well as his inability to have prevented it -- would cause him pain as long as he lived. All the same, he wasn't looking forward to telling Spock's parents or Scotty's sister about the deaths of their respective sons. Scotty at least had his engines and their repair to sustain him, even though it was technically his responsibility as kin to inform his sister of her son's death... but he couldn't bring himself to do it, so the job fell to Kirk.

Logging deaths and sending condolence stargrams had never been one of Kirk's favorite things to do -- especially now, when one of the deaths was that of his closest friend. He was even denied the comfort of McCoy's presence because of the current situation. Bones must be hurting as much as he was over Spock, but like Scotty, McCoy had his work to keep him from dwelling on his sorrow. Even so, there had been times that McCoy had acted strange -- in ways even Kirk could not fathom... but he had put it down to grief for Spock.

The possibility of something unusual having happened between his two friends never entered Kirk's mind, though it probably should have. Unfortunately, the Admiral was too occupied with other things (his command responsibilities, for instance) to really think about McCoy's behavior at any length or the possibility that there might be more behind it than simple grief.

He had enough to handle just dealing with his own grief, much less someone else's... not to mention trying to describe as best he could to Spock's parents what had happened, and later on to Scotty's sister. It was at times like this that Kirk positively hated being in a command position, unable to delegate responsibility. He was even beginning to understand at least part of the reasoning behind Spock's dislike of command, his preference for being in a subordinate position, even though the Vulcan had always risen to the occasion magnificently when the situation called for it.

That was in the past now. He and the others, including young Saavik, had managed to survive Spock's death. Now came the hard part: living without him. The first step was informing Sarek and Amanda of their son's passing and how it had come about, expressing no more grief in the stargram than he considered proper. Even at that, Kirk was sure that the ever-perceptive Amanda would read him every bit as easily as she had read her half-Vulcan son... and act accordingly.

* * *

But even as Kirk sat at his computer in his quarters attempting to compose a condolence stargram to his friend's parents, Uhura and Christine were meeting for their promised get-together, watching a holovid Uhura had recently purchased and having a late dinner. Christine had also decided to tell Uhura of the bizarre experience she had had with McCoy, see if her friend could make head nor tail of it. How was it possible for Spock to have spoken through Leonard? But it was either that or she was losing her mind.

If Nyota couldn't figure it out, Christine would be obliged to go to Kirk with it. She disliked the idea of putting yet another load on already overburdened shoulders, but had little choice in the matter -- and figured he would want to know since it concerned his two closest friends. Maybe she could go talk to him if it wasn't too late after the holovid and her talk with Uhura. Otherwise it would have to wait until a more propitious time... although considering the way things had been lately, Heaven knew when that would be.

* * *

However, it wasn't Christine who spoke first. The holovid was about half over when Uhura decided to break the silence, speak up on the subject Christine had come to discuss. "Chris?... Chris, are you going to talk to me or not? You haven't said word one since you got here."

Christine almost jumped out of her skin upon coming back to reality. "Oh, Ny. Sorry. Yes, I do want to talk -- but my thoughts are so jumbled that I hardly know where or how to begin."

"Just start talking. We'll make sense of it as we go along. What matters is that you get it out in the open."

"If you say so. Well, I went to have some lunch the day after Spock died," she began.

"Okay, so you went to have lunch. What happened in the course of it?"

"I got my lunch, then sat down at a vacant table. A few minutes later I heard a voice asking if he could join me."

"Whose voice?"

Christine took a deep breath before answering. "I... know this is going to sound crazy, but I'd know his voice anywhere. It was Spock's."

Uhura looked as shocked as Christine had felt. "What? How could that be?"

"I don't know, but it was. I was sure I was losing my mind. The next thing I knew, Leonard was speaking to me. I invited him to sit down. I don't know how I managed, but I must have looked and sounded normal, because he didn't question me... just started in talking about how tough the last few days had been, especially the last 24 hours. He apologized for reminding me about Spock; I said it was all right, that I'd survive. It was what Spock would want me to do. Then it happened again..." Christine's voice trailed off.

"You heard Spock's voice again?" Uhura guessed. "What did he say?"

"That what I'd said was logical. I looked up at him, and then--" Christine abruptly broke off in mid-sentence, unable to speak further.

"Then what happened?"

"Leonard's whole face seemed to change," the female doctor continued, literally forcing the words out. "In fact, it didn't seem like his face at all any more -- and his eyes seemed to darken. So much so that I would have sworn they'd turned brown, like Spock's... then the eyes seemed to read my mind. I was sure he knew what I was thinking."

Christine took a drink to soothe her dry throat. "I asked what he'd said -- then it was Leonard again. He said he'd agreed with me. I must have looked shocked, for he frowned and asked, 'What did you think I said?' I'm not sure exactly what I answered... something about having Spock on the brain, I think. After a while we got to talking again, about what happened in the Engine Room before Spock died. I could tell he was hurting, so I put my hand over his and said he didn't need to talk any more -- that I knew how he must be feeling.

"Then it happened again... Spock's voice said that forgiveness was only necessary where offense had been taken. My hand was squeezed, then he went on, saying that it wasn't Leonard's or his forgiveness I should seek -- rather, that he sought mine. He said he regretted being unable to respond to my feelings for him and wished to tell me how much my love and support had meant to him. He... also wished he'd been worthy of my feelings -- worthy of me. He said if he had been, things might have been different between us.

"I couldn't believe what I was hearing, you know? Then as if he'd read my mind, he said he'd given Dr. McCoy custody of his 'katra,' or 'soul,' as we'd call it, since the Admiral was unavailable to receive it. He explained that there hadn't been any time to do anything but what he'd done, that it was more logical to sacrifice one life than several hundred."

Uhura had to agree. "That sounds like Spock, all right. Did he say anything else?"

"Only that he regretted having been unable to tell me how he really felt before he died. I assured him that he had nothing to apologize for, since I understood that he couldn't respond as a Human does -- and that it never changed how I felt toward him. What mattered was being near him. I told him I was glad to learn how he really felt, even if it was a tad after the fact. It'll be much easier to go on because of this. I don't know why he did it, but what matters is that he did it. I finally said that I would love him as long as I lived, even if I married someone else. He smiled and thanked me, then it was Leonard again.

"He said he'd felt strange, as if possessed by someone or something. I told him that the best advice I could give was to get a good night's sleep and something to eat. Too bad I couldn't have taken my own advice. And since both my food and coffee were cold, I told myself 'To heck with it,' and threw it away, then went back to my quarters, showered and went to bed."

Uhura shook her head in wonder. "Incredible." The dark woman frowned thoughtfully. "Have you told the Admiral about this? He might be able to explain it. Remember how close he and Spock were."

"I've considered it, but he has enough on his mind right now without me adding to it."

"At least think about it. He might not know why Dr. McCoy is acting as he is -- provided he's even noticed to begin with."

Christine sighed. "Well, when you put it that way..."

At this point the two turned their heads to note that the holovid was ending; the end credits were playing, along with some music from the film. "Oh, for Heaven's sake! I forgot all about the holovid!" Christine exclaimed.

"It's all right. We can watch it again later." Uhura looked up at the chrono. "It's 2200. You might give the Admiral a call and see if he's willing to talk with you."

"I guess it couldn't hurt," Christine conceded. "In that case, I'd better go. See you later."

"Later," Uhura said, smiling in Christine's direction before disappearing through the door.

Christine truly hoped that Kirk could help her figure out her bizarre experience. After all, he and Spock had been quite close, as Nyota had said. Perhaps Spock had even told him about a Vulcan technique of transferring knowledge from one mind to another in order to preserve it. Of course, even if he hadn't, at least he would know why Leonard was acting so strange. With that, she reached for her intercom and opened it.

"Chapel to Kirk."

There was a long silence before Kirk replied. "Yes, Doctor, what is it?" He sounded distracted; she hoped she hadn't made a mistake in calling him.

"Something very strange happened to me recently involving Dr. McCoy. I was wondering if I could talk to you about it. Maybe you could help me figure out what it means, if anything."

Kirk had been wondering if anyone else had noticed Bones' strange behavior; this seemed to confirm that he hadn't been imagining things. He was having trouble composing the stargram to Spock's parents anyway; maybe he should take a break and talk to Dr. Chapel, see what she had to say. Maybe then he would be able to write what he wanted to write to Sarek and Amanda.

"Sure, come ahead. It's kind of late, but we're both off-duty tomorrow. I need to get away from condolence stargrams as it is."

"See you in a few minutes, then. I just need to freshen up."

* * *

Ten minutes later Christine stood at the door to Kirk's quarters. It wasn't every day she came here; they usually seen each other in Sickbay, the Officers' Lounge or Rec Room. He said, "Come," after she pressed the buzzer; she stepped in. For a second she stood as if frozen; it took Kirk's voice to move her. "In here, Doctor," he directed from his work area. After she stepped into view, he gestured to the extra chair next to his desk; she smiled and nodded toward him before seating herself.

"What's on your mind?" he asked gently. "You sounded quite anxious when you called, as though you had a lot to get off your chest."

"I do, believe me. In fact, I'm still half-convinced that I'm either hallucinating, hearing things or losing my mind."

That makes two of us, Kirk thought, smiling inwardly. "Well, I can't guarantee I'll be able to help you, but can at least give you a sympathetic ear."

"It... has to do with Spock and Dr. McCoy," she began.

Kirk's right eyebrow rose in a credible imitation of Spock, prompting sharp pain in the vicinity of Christine's heart. "Both of them? You usually just concern yourself with Spock. What happened to you that involved both of them?"

She sighed deeply. "I don't know how to tell you without sounding crazy. All I can ask is that you bear with me and reserve judgement until you've heard me out."

"Deal," Kirk said. "Fire away."

She told him everything she'd told Uhura. She kept expecting him to cut in at any moment with some pithy remark, but to her relief, Kirk didn't say anything until she'd finished.

The first thing he said was, "I'm glad to hear that I'm not the only one."

Christine looked at him incredulously. "You mean it's happened to you, too?"

"Not really, but there have been times I could have sworn I heard Spock talking to me... and there was no one around except Bones."

"I was wondering if Spock had ever told you of any kind of Vulcan technique of transferring knowledge from one mind to another in order to preserve it."

Kirk frowned and shook his head. "Not that I can recall, but there must be one if what you've said is any barometer. It probably happened during the time you mentioned when Bones said he'd briefly passed out, but couldn't remember why. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if that was why he was unable to stop Spock from going into the Reactor Room."

At this point Christine looked up and noted the scarcely begun stargram to Spock's parents. "Looks like you've been trying to write a stargram to Spock's parents -- and not succeeding," she observed. Kirk nodded before closing his eyes in pain and bowing his head. "I'm sorry, Admiral. I know how difficult it must be for you, having been so close to Spock."

Kirk shrugged and lifted his head, waving a hand in dismissal. "Oh, writing condolence stargrams had never been on my list of favorite things to do. I mean, how many times can you tell someone that their son or daughter, father or mother, brother or sister, nephew or niece, or even a cousin or grandchild has died before it starts getting to you?"

"And it's doubly hard when you were close to the person who died," she pointed out. "I know the feeling." She placed a hand over Kirk's for a moment. "As Spock might say, I grieve with thee." After a moment she withdrew her hand. "Maybe I can help you finish the stargram... or at least try."

Kirk smiled sadly. "I'd appreciate any help you could give."

She moved her chair next to his so she could peruse the computer screen. "Okay, let's see what we can come up with."

* * *

It took the better part of the next hour, but between them, Kirk and Christine managed to come up with a pretty good -- or at least passable -- stargram. It wasn't easy for either of them, considering their feelings for Spock, but it had to be done... and between them, it was done. Both sighed in relief once it had been saved and printed out.

"Whew! Thank God that much is done," Kirk declared with a deep sigh. "The last one won't be so hard, even though technically Scotty should be the one doing it... but he asked me since I have 'more of a way with words' than he does, according to him. He told me he had every confidence that I would come up with a stargram his sister would accept."

"You mean the boy who was caught in the Phaser Control Room with the coolant leak was Scotty's nephew?" Kirk nodded. "Oh, no..." she breathed softly. "Poor Scotty. His poor sister. They're going to be devastated."

"Scotty is devastated. That's why he wanted me to write the stargram to his sister."

"As if you didn't have enough to worry about," she opined with a wry smile. "Oh, yes. Do you think I could have a copy of the stargram to Spock's parents? It may sound morbid, but I want to have something of him other than my love and my memories. Something substantial that I can touch, hold in my hands... I hope you understand."

"Under the circumstances, I think I can," Kirk smiled. "It'll only take a minute." Slightly more than a minute later, he handed her the hard copy of the stargram she had requested, then looked at his wall chrono, which read 0030 hours -- half past midnight. "It's after midnight; you'd better get to bed. Thanks for your help with the stargram."

She stopped halfway to the door, nodding and smiling in his direction. "It was the least I could do for Spock. Good night, Admiral. Best of luck with the other stargram."

She stepped up to the door, which automatically opened for her -- then stepped through and was gone. Kirk prepared the stargram to Sarek and Amanda for transmission, then turned back to his computer again and proceeded to write the stargram of condolence to Scotty's sister, Cadet Peter Preston's mother.

* * *

Upon finishing the stargram to Fran Preston and printing it out (it wouldn't be ready to mail until after Scotty had gone over it and added -- or subtracted -- to his satisfaction)), Kiirk set it aside and called up the stargram to Spock's parents again, the print on the screen blurring through his tear-filled eyes as he re-read it aloud.

Stardate 8128.86

Ambassador Sarek and Lady Amanda...

This is the most difficult thing I have ever had to do. even now I must stop and com- pose myself before I can continue. but I have a duty to perform, and it is to inform you with sorrow of the death of your son, and my closest friend, Spock. You may be proud of your son; he died a hero, saving over four hundred lives, including my own -- although I would gladly have died in his place.

You see, the ship's warp engines had been taken off-line because they had been badly damaged in a battle with an old adversary of mine, who had managed to appropriate the Genesis Device, then detonate it prematurely. The only way to escape the effect was by warping away, and we were presently unable to do that.

In all the confusion, I had been unaware that Spock had left the Bridge and gone down to the Engine Room. Mr. Scott, my Chief Engineer, had been overcome by radiation, so Spock took it upon himself to get the warp engines back in working order since he was the only other person aboard with sufficient knowledge and ability.

He succeeded, and we managed to escape, but I assumed that Mr. Scott had recov- ered and repaired the engines. That is, until Dr. McCoy called from the Engine Room. When I arrived, Mr. Scott and the Doctor had to hold me back after I saw Spock all hunched over in the Reactor Room. I knew he would die in there, so I tried to reach it to get him out, but they said it was too late. He was already dead. When I managed to get there, I called to him. I'm sure it was sheer will that moved him, though he couldn't stand for long.

He told me not to grieve, that what he had done was logical. The good of the many outweighed the good of the few -- or the one. Also, that he had been, and always would be, my friend before putting a hand up in salute and saying, "Live long and prosper" before it dropped, and he... died. Worst of all, I couldn't even touch him!

The next thing I knew, I was in Sickbay with McCoy sitting next to me. By all the other occupied beds, I could tell how busy he had been. He said the best thing for me was rest, so he sedated me and I slept for nearly twelve hours. We planned the funeral after I got up, then Dr. Chapel and I virtually bullied McCoy into getting some rest.

Even at that, we all know that getting through the funeral would be the easy part. The hard part will be living without Spock, trying to fill the void he has left behind by his passing. I plan to come see you both at the first opportunity, as soon as I feel up to it and my duties permit it. In conclusion, please know that you have my deepest sympathies on the loss of your son... and know also that none of us will ever forget him. Myself in particular, for this unswerving loyalty and caring friendship - and I will never stop missing him.

Very truly yours,

James T. Kirk

A short time later Kirk turned off his computer, then went to bed after showering... but once in bed, he did something he hadn't done since he was a child -- he buried his face in his pillow and cried himself to sleep.

* * *

The Enterprise was still several days away from Earth when a stargram from Vulcan arrived for Kirk, bearing the seal of the House of Surak, the Vulcan philosopher from whom Spock and his father were descended. The Admiral knew who it was from and frankly dreaded opening it. He had done the best he could to explain what had happened to the Vulcan and why -- just as he had tried to remain as professional as possible when relating the news to Spock's parents... but was sure that his grief was all too obvious despite his best efforts.

He could not do as Spock asked. If your best friend dies, you're going to grieve, regardless of their wish to the contrary. Kirk busied himself with 'paperwork' and such for a time, but after a certain point knew he could no longer put off reading the stargram. No use kidding himself; the 'paperwork' wasn't that urgent. He was using it as an excuse, telling himself one thing when he knew otherwise -- that the 'paperwork' was important, when in fact he was just plain scared.

With that, Kirk told his computer to turn off and pushed himself back in his chair to stand up and turn toward his sleeping alcove with stargram in hand after he picked it up from his desk, where it had lain for the past six hours. Once inside the sleeping alcove, the Admiral sat down on his bed, setting the stargram aside temporarily while removing his boots and uniform jacket. After stretching out full-length on his bed and positioning his pillow for maximum comfort, he picked up the pale green envelope again. He carefully broke the seal, choosing not to acknowledge the fact that his hands were trembling as he opened the stargram in Amanda's fine hand (she was one of the few people he knew who preferred handwriting to holovids) and forced himself to read it.

Stardate 8128.94

Dear James,

Sarek and I thank you for taking the time to explain the circumstances of our son's death and the reasoning behind his actions. It is a tragedy, and we shall mourn the untimeliness of it, but at the same time, we know that Spock did the only thing he could have done to save the Enterprise and those aboard her.

I can imagine how difficult this must be for you, having been so close to and fond of Spock these many years. It eases our grief considerably to know that our son had such a friend as you... someone who accepted him as he was, who cared not what kind of background he had -- instead, you sought him out and offered him friendship solely on the basis of his own merits. Spock's life was surely enriched by you and your friendship, even as yours was by his.

As you know, Spock did not make friends easily or allow himself to develop feelings for too many people -- and those he did care for had to prove themselves worthy first. I'm sure you know all too well that Spock was not an easy person to get to know, but you obviously saw something in him that made you want to have him as your friend and gave you the tenacity and patience required to wear him down, as it were.

Of course, I am not discounting Dr. McCoy. He must be mourning Spock's passing as much as we ourselves are. I could see through his gruff facade as easily as I always saw through Spock's. He cared as much for Spock as you did, but because of the differences between yourself and the Doctor, they could not be as close as you and Spock were... nor could they show their feelings for each other as openly as they might have wished.

Which brings me to the feelings I noticed from your head nurse -- Christine Chapel was her name, wasn't it? -- as she cared for Spock after he'd acted as blood donor for his father during the Babel incident some years ago. They were reminiscent of the feelings I had for Sarek not long after meeting him... which means that she would have had to have been in love with Spock at that point -- and deeply so.

For that reason, I cannot help but empathize with her. Speaking from long experience, it is not easy to love a Vulcan... or be married to one. I remember all too well what I went through, and my heart goes out to her because of all she has surely gone through (and is probably still going through) because of her feelings for Spock.

She must be as devastated as you and Dr. McCoy are as a result of Spock's death, particularly if she was unable to show her feelings to him, express them and have him respond... which I was certain he would do after his V''ger experience. Though I suppose that not even that could change his inborn stubbornness or deep inner fear of being rejected by a woman he had... developed... deep feelings for. A most unfortunate turn of events for them both, especially now that there is no way to change matters.

This statement prompted Kirk to recall the conversation he had had with Christine about her bizarre yet bittersweet experience with Spock's essence, now residing in McCoy's mind... and what 'he' had told her of the feelings he had harbored for her and his regret that he was unable to have been the kind of suitor she deserved -- sentiments he had been unable to voice until after his physical death.

But there was no way Kirk could explain that in terms that Amanda would understand, so it was best to keep it to himself -- at least for the time being. With that, he returned to the stargram.

All of you have our sympathy because of your recent loss of both a close friend and potential suitor (for Christine) -- just as we have yours for the loss of our beloved son and only child. It will take a long time for the pain and emptiness to pass, but in the meantime we can take comfort in the feelings we bear for him -- and he bore for us -- as well as the fact that he lived among us. Not to mention the miracle of having known and been associated with him. As the old saying goes, 'Those who live in someone's heart will never die.' For that reason, Spock will live forever through us, those who loved him. We must honor his memory by living our lives as much as possible as he would want us to.

Oh, before I forget -- Sarek wanted me to tell you that he planned to come see you and speak to you about Spock as soon as there is an opening in his schedule. He didn't say what his reasons were, and I have no idea when he'll be there. Just be prepared to meet with him at some point in the not-too-distant future.

Our best wishes to the three of you and hopes for your continued good health and eventual recovery from our mutual grief.

With friendship and sympathy,

Amanda

Kirk couldn't help but breathe a deep sigh of relief as he relaxed against his pillow after finishing the stargram. If he could survive the apprehension which had consumed him since the receipt of Amanda's missive, he could certainly survive anything Sarek had to say.

* * *

Three days later Kirk decided to tell Christine and Bones what Amanda had said about them in the stargram he had received. Christine deserved it, since she had helped him write the missive which had prompted such an answer. He hadn't seen any need for it, so he hadn't told Amanda that Christine had helped him write the stargram -- but she must be even more perceptive than he gave her credit for if she could so easily deduce Christine's feelings for Spock.

Once he was off-duty the evening of stardate 8129 at approximately 1830 hours, he opened his desk intercom and spoke into it. "Kirk to Chapel."

The Doctor sounded breathless as she answered. "Yes, Admiral?"

"Is something wrong, Doctor? You sound like you just ran a 50-yard dash." Kirk couldn't help being a little curious.

Christine laughed. "Very nearly. I just got back from having dinner, and had just opened the doors to my quarters when I heard my intercom beeping. It was across the room from me, so I ran to answer it just in case it was important. Which reminds me -- why are you calling?"

"I just got an answer to the condolence stargram to Spock's parents that you helped me write. Spock's mother mentioned you. I thought you'd like to read it."

Christine was shocked into silence for a moment. "Amanda mentioned me?" she said upon regaining her voice. "I didn't think she knew of my existence, much less how I felt about Spock. Did you tell her about me or that I'd helped you with the stargram to her and Sarek?"

"No," was the reply. "I'd tell you what she said, but thought you'd prefer to read it yourself. That is, if you don't have any other plans..." Kirk's voice trailed off.

"Nothing that can't wait. Your quarters again?"

"Good enough. Would fifteen minutes give you enough time to freshen up? I can also have a drink on hand for you if you like."

"Make it twenty and you've got a deal. And yes, I'd appreciate the drink. See you in twenty minutes, Admiral. Chapel out."

"I'll be expecting you. Kirk out." With that, the connection was cut.

Christine went to her bathroom for a quick shower, all the while wondering how Amanda could have known of her feelings for Spock if Kirk hadn't told her. Certainly Spock hadn't -- at least not as far as she knew -- and there had been no opportunity for her and Amanda to speak privately at the time of the Babel incident... not with both Sarek's and Spock's lives at stake. Of course, being a fellow Human in love with a Vulcan, Amanda was likely to recognize the signs in Christine which she herself had once exhibited. However, Amanda had won her battle, and Christine hadn't known until after Spock's physical death how he had truly felt toward her.

Would they have bonded and married as Sarek and Amanda had, if Spock had been able to tell her of his feelings beforehand? It was all academic now, but Christine preferred to believe that she and Spock would have been husband and wife had the Khan/ Genesis incident ended differently. At this point, she looked up and noticed she only had five minutes before she was due at the Admiral's quarters... so she threw on a casual dress and ran a comb through her hair with a touch of lip gloss before dashing out.

"Come," he said when she pressed the buzzer.

Kirk's eyebrow raised upon seeing her -- a gesture painfully reminiscent of Spock -- but Christine forced a smile and attempted to slow down her heart and respiration. Not quickly enough, however... for Kirk smiled and said, "Running the 50-yard dash again, Doctor?"

She could only nod in reply even as he gestured to her to sit down on the extra chair near his desk, stargram from Amanda in hand and an iced drink sitting on a coaster near her seat.

"Have a seat. As soon as you're settled, I'll give you the stargram from Amanda."

Christine finally managed to get her heart and breathing under control, and after she took a swallow of the cold drink, Kirk handed her the stargram from Vulcan. There was a long silence as she read, tears misting her eyes at how well Amanda had read her, as well as at the explanation of how she had known of Christine's love for her son.

"It's beautiful," the Doctor said quietly upon raising her head. "I should have guessed that she would know and understand how I feel because of what she herself experienced with Spock's father. I wish she and I had had the chance to speak privately, but there was no opportunity because Leonard and I were working to save Sarek... and at the same time, make sure that Spock would suffer no ill effects from that Rigellian drug."

Kirk nodded understandingly, the memories of that time still fresh in his mind even after all the years which had passed since then. Memories of how Spock had talked his mother and McCoy into the operation and using the Rigellian drug on him, then backing out at the last minute after Kirk had been attacked by the Orion masquerading as an Andorian, risking his father's life in order to do his duty by his shipmates and their VIP passengers.

Commendable, if somewhat illogical, although he had managed to rectify things by taking over himself in order to free Spock -- in spite of the fact he had been badly wounded. However, Bones had patched him up and given him enough medication (he had hoped) to get him through whatever he had to do. He hadn't liked having to deceive Spock, but as he had told McCoy, he couldn't let the Vulcan commit patricide. Sarek would have died without the operation, and the only way to get enough blood was to use the Rigellian drug on Spock for a transfusion.

"I always found it hard to understand why Spock pushed so hard for the operation, even seemed willing to play blood donor -- until I got hurt. After that he seemed to consider duty more important, even if it cost his father's life. Thank Heaven everything worked out in the end... if only for Spock's sake." Kirk sighed and continued. "I can only hope his mother ended up forgiving him."

It had been quite some time before Spock could bring himself to tell even Kirk what had happened during the disastrous confrontation between his mother and himself, what each had said and done and how each had felt at the time. Christine gave the Admiral a funny look but made no comment, figuring that if Kirk thought she should know, he would tell her what he was talking about. "So do I."

"Sorry, Christine -- just thinking out loud. I didn't mean for you to hear that."

"It's all right. Which reminds me... have you told Leonard about the stargram yet?"

"I was going to." Kirk frowned at her. "Why? Don't you think I should?"

"Yes, of course. Just be prepared in the event he -- well -- changes personalities. You know what I mean."

Kirk's lips twisted wryly. "Do I ever! In that case, it might be a better idea if I wait until tomorrow. We won't get to Earth for another couple of days anyway."

Christine shrugged. "Tell him whenever you want. I just thought it would be best if you erred on the side of caution." She finished her drink with one last swallow before standing up. "Do you think Amanda would mind if I wrote and thanked her?"

Kirk smiled and shook his head. "No, I don't think so... as long as you tell her how you found out."

Christine was also considering asking the older woman what had happened between her and Spock that he would need to seek his mother's forgiveness. She had a pretty good idea, but wanted to make sure. With luck, she and Amanda could become friends -- if only to commiserate over their mutual grief... even if they were grieving for different reasons. The love of a mother for her child was very different from the love of a woman for a man.

"Well, I'd better go write her before I lose my nerve. Hope your talk with Leonard goes well."

"So do I. Goodnight, Doctor."

"Goodnight, Admiral... and take care. Don't worry; we'll make it if we stick together."

Kirk smiled in appreciation. "Take care, Christine. Thank you."

Christine stopped at the door and turned around, her smile conveying the knowledge that the Admiral was not only thanking her for caring about others' grief, including his, but for her devotion to Spock. After she left, Kirk called McCoy and told him to be expecting him in his Sickbay office the following morning at 0800 for a private talk about their mutual friend and the stargram he had received from the latter's parents.

* * *

Meanwhile, Christine went off-duty and planned to at least attempt to write Spock's mother, although she really didn't know where to begin or how to explain herself. Amanda was Human and thus likely to understand her love for Spock, but that didn't mean that Christine had the right to butt into his personal life... whatever his essence had told her of his true feelings for her. It was going to be one of the hardest things she'd ever tried to do, but she had to try before she lost her nerve. After a shower and meal, Christine sat down at her desk and opened the top right drawer to get out some stationery, then the center one to get out a stylus. After a deep sigh, she took a generous swallow of coffee for strength... then put pen to paper and began to write.

Stardate 8130.3

To Lady Amanda --

The Admiral showed me the stargram he received from you recently and told me that you had mentioned me in it. I was quite surprised since I didn't think you were aware of my existence, much less how I felt about Spock. Even so, I wish to thank you for your perceptiveness and sensitivity. I wish we could have sat down and talked privately at the time of the Babel incident; you could have given me advice on how to deal with my feelings for him. Yes, I was in love with Spock at the time -- very much so -- and have never stopped loving him these many years.

Please forgive me for intruding into your lives, but I just had to tell you of my feelings and hope you can accept them, even though Spock couldn't. At least not while he was alive... but more on that later. I assume that you've deduced that the Admiral had help in writing the stargram to you and Sarek -- and that I was the one who helped him. He was having difficulty composing it due to his grief for Spock. I'm sure you're aware of how close they were. As to why I was there, I had had a bizarre experience and told the Admiral about it to see if he could help me figure out what it meant, if anything.

She went on, telling Amanda in detail of her bittersweet encounters with Spock's essence and what he had told her, also expressing his regret at his inability to show his feelings for her and his belief that he was unworthy of her because of it.

In case you're wondering why Spock chose Dr. McCoy instead of the Admiral to be the 'keeper' of his katra, it was a split-second decision. There had been no time for him to do otherwise. In addition, Spock and the Doctor are also very good friends and cared a lot for each other, however they may have disagreed and argued on occasion. I now believe that it was their way of expressing their affection for each other.

I believe too that giving Dr. McCoy custody of his essence was Spock's way of showing without words how much he cared for him and also wished to have a bond with him. (I'm sure you know that Spock and the Admiral already had one.) That is, in the event they are able to return to Vulcan for the fal-tor-pan. Spock's essence told me about it.

I still don't know how -- or if -- that will come about, but it is unimportant as long as it does. Life is bleak without Spock, but I take solace in knowing that he did indeed care for me. It will be easier to go on without him in spite of my deep sense of loss and heartbreak. I wish words could express my feelings, how very much I loved him... and will always love him.

I have always envied you; you were so much luckier than I was. You may have fallen in love with a Vulcan, but you managed to win him -- even married him and had his child. BBut II'm not bitter. I knew that Spock couldn't respond as a Human would. That didn't matter to me. What mattered was being near him.

Christine was tempted to tell Amanda what had happened between herself and Spock during the Psi 2000 incident, what the virus had made her do and say to him... especially her belief that it had marked the beginning of his feelings for her -- but decided it would be an invasion of their privacy to tell even his mother about it, at least at this point in time. She sighed and resumed writing.

Well, I'd better close here. I will understand if you choose not to answer me, but thought it would help ease your grief to know that there is another who cared for and about Spock -- and who would like to be your friend if you're willing. Again, thank you for your compassion and understanding.

With respect and warmest regards,

Dr. Christine Chapel

P.S. Oh, before I forget -- I also wanted to say that I'm sure that much of what made me fall in love with Spock came as much from you as from Sarek. I'm also glad that I had a chance to care for him, too. He and Spock are so alike, yet so different. It was sad that they were estranged for so long; I pray they had a chance to reconcile and that it was a lasting one.

Christine read it over, then re-copied it after making the necessary additions and changes -- getting it ready for mailing and sending it before she lost her nerve. It would be nice if she and Spock's mother could become friends, but if nothing else, she was glad to have gotten everything off her chest as far as her own feelings were concerned. If things worked out, she would feel even closer to Spock.

In which case, Amanda could lend an understanding ear and loving heart to her and they would give each other solace and moral support, share their mutual grief and love for Spock -- and get to know each other as people in the process. Later on, she would tell Amanda the whole story of how her love for Spock came to be. It was too much to lay on her this early in the game. For the time being, Christine intended to keep a respectful distance and not pressure the older woman.

* * *

Kirk had found it far easier to write Scotty's sister and tell her of her son's death than he had found writing Spock's parents, although it still wasn't something he enjoyed doing... to put it mildly! Many others had been injured in the fight with Khan, but thank God no one else had been killed. He had had enough problems as it was. To Kirk's relief, Scotty reacted to the stargram in the way he'd expected; all he did was add a brief postscript explaining why he had had the Admiral write the stargram for him. Kirk then made sure to tell Scott to let him know how his sister reacted to it; the engineer promised he would.

Not a moment too soon, either. McCoy would be expecting him within the next fifteen minutes. The Admiral prepared himself as best he could and left his quarters to head for Sickbay after splashing some cold water on his face and taking a shot glass of Saurian brandy to calm himself. He only hoped it was enough to last him through the entire encounter.

* * *

The Doctor was waiting when Kirk arrived, a snifter of Saurian brandy at his elbow and a glass in his hand. He smiled wearily at his friend as the Admiral sat down in the extra chair near the desk.

"Tough day, Jim?"

"No more than usual," was the reply.

"Have you written Spock's parents yet?" McCoy asked after taking a generous swig of his drink.

Kirk nodded after giving the brandy snifter and Chief Surgeon a meaningful look. McCoy handed him a full glass moments later; the Admiral drank deeply and gratefully, half draining it before raising his head to once again meet the Doctor's eyes.

"Oh yes, some time ago... and got an answer yesterday. Would you like to read it?" Kirk reached into his inner pocket and brought out the stargram.

"Sure, if it's no bother," McCoy said.

"No, of course not. Why would you think that?" Kirk gave his second-best friend a funny look.

"Well, anymore you tend to keep things concerning you and Spock private and don't share them with me," the Doctor reminded him. "So I thought I'd better ask just to make sure it was all right. Still, it seems strange when I was as much his friend as you are. I know I haven't been as good as I could have been, but that didn't mean I didn't care. Even if Spock couldn't see that, I would think that you could, and explain things to him."

The Doctor sighed. "I would have liked to be closer to him, but would have had to change my whole personality to do it -- and I can no more change the way I am than you or he could. If we're going to be friends, we have to take the bad with the good, not try to change each other."

At this point McCoy opened Amanda's stargram and began to read, remaining silent until he reached the part where Spock's mother had mentioned him. "Well, I'm glad to see that at least Amanda can see that I cared about Spock too -- despite our differences." The Doctor's eyes widened, and Kirk had a feeling that Bones had reached the part where Amanda had mentioned Christine and her feelings for Spock.

"How's that for perceptive? They never had a chance to speak privately, yet she writes as though they talked for hours." McCoy looked up at the other man sitting across from him. "Did you show this to Christine?"

Kirk nodded. "She's going to write and thank her. I also got the impression that she hopes they will become friends."

"Certainly wouldn't hurt," the Doctor opined. "In fact it'll probably help them both a lot." Again there was silence until McCoy reached the part where Amanda had told Kirk to be expecting Sarek in the not-too-distant future... and that he would want to speak to Kirk about Spock. "Have you heard from Sarek yet?" McCoy asked. Kirk shook his head. "I'm not surprised that he wants to talk to you about Spock. What do you think he'll ask you?"

The Admiral shook his head again and frowned. "All I can do is tell him what I know and hope it's enough."

"It should be. After all, you can't tell him what you don't know."

"True -- but that still may not satisfy him."

The Doctor returned the stargram to Kirk. "Amanda writes a pretty nice stargram, don't you think? Thanks for letting me read it."

Kirk gently dismissed it. "It was the least I could do."

"Well, I'd better get back to work now. Take care, Jim. Try not to work yourself too hard, and don't hesitate to come by if you need either a glass of brandy or a sympathetic ear, if not both."

Kirk smiled as he stood up and turned for the door. "I'll keep it in mind, Bones -- and also want you to feel free to come talk to me if you feel the need."

McCoy nodded and smiled. "I won't forget, Jim."

"See you later, Bones." Kirk couldn't help a sigh of relief at how well the session had gone as he departed McCoy's office. He had been expecting Spock's voice to come out of the Doctor's mouth at virtually any moment during their conversation, but was thankful it hadn't because it meant one less problem for him to think about -- and he much preferred to think about more pleasant things... like when Spock was still alive.

* * *

Christine received a reply far sooner than she expected, especially considering the fact that she hadn't expected a reply at all. Maybe now she would have an ally in the event Spock was brought back to life at the fal-tor-pan. Of course, she still had no idea how his body would be regenerated. Would Genesis have something to do with it or would Spock pull yet another Vulcan rabbit out of his hat, so to speak, like he had during the Deneva business?

In addition, would he remember all he had told her of his feelings for her while in McCoy's body once he had been "reincarnated" in his own? But these questions could be relegated to the back burner for the time being. What she was most concerned about was Amanda's reaction to her stargram. Christine called up a cup of coffee upon reaching her quarters after her duty shift, then set it on her bedside table and removed her regulation boots before opening the sealed stargram with trembling hands.

Stardate 8130.13

Dear Christine,

I hope it's all right to call you that... and please call me Amanda. Thank you for your lovely stargram. It is no intrusion; Sarek and I welcome anyone who cared for our son. Spock grew up virtually without love or friendship; it's a wonder he turned out as well as he did. I like to think that I'm mainly responsible for that.

As I once told the Admiral, I was glad Spock had finally found friendship and that he had never felt at home anywhere but Starfleet. I also can't say I'm surprised that you helped with the condolence stargram. Something told me that the Admiral could not have written it by himself, that at some point it had had a woman's touch.

Indeed, I felt for you during the Babel incident upon realizing that you were as much in love with my son at that point as I was with Sarek in our youth. If I could have known beforehand, I would have given you some advice which could have helped you. As I'm sure you know all too well, loving a Vulcan isn't easy. Neither is being married to one, though it does have its rewards. As you said, I was able to marry the one I loved and have his child.

It is unfortunate that there was no opportunity for the two of us to sit down and speak privately, but I'm sure you'll agree that Sarek and Spock's lives took precedence at that moment in time. I have no doubts that loving Spock has been difficult for you, but judging from what you've told me, his loss has been made easier to bear because of what his essence has told you of his previously unspoken feelings.

Let me assure you, Christine, that Vulcans have other ways -- non-verbal and non-physical -- ways to show their feelings which make our Human ways seem childish and superficial. Perhaps Spock will be able to demonstrate some of these to you should the fal-tor-pan prove successful, although he will likely need help until he is himself again... and I'm sure you and his other friends will be only too happy to help on that score.

It would also seem that you are quite perceptive in your own right to be able to see through Spock's facade as I saw through his father's. I can't help believing that most women have a sixth sense when it comes to detecting whether or not the man they love is being himself or putting on a show for their benefit.

As for Sarek and Spock... they were both very stubborn and proud, having caused each other pain through misunderstandings and misinterpretations of the other's actions and feelings -- but I knew that deep down there was an abiding attachment between them -- though as Vulcans, they could not show it as they might have wished.

For the time since Babel up until now, the reconciliation has lasted, such as it is. They weren't on affectionate terms, but have at least spoken civilly to each other most of the time, which was more than I could say for the eighteen years between Spock's joining Starfleet and the Babel incident.

Yes, my husband and son were more alike than either of them would ever admit, and I pray that Spock will act as his father did and choose a Human wife once he has recovered, if only for your sake. As the old saying goes, "Death is not an ending, but a beginning." This is especially true of Vulcans. If everything works out, we just may have something else in common other than a mutual love for a Vulcan.

Finally, I would like very much to be your friend. It always makes me feel good to have another Human to talk to, especially another Human woman... and most importantly, one who loved my son so devotedly. I look forward to a long, mutually satisfying and affectionate correspondence with you. Take care and all the best to you always, Christine.

With warmest regards,

Amanda

Christine couldn't have written a better stargram if she'd tried. All her worries had been for naught. If Spock's mother was in any way what she seemed, she now had a friend who would stand by her for life and help her should she have difficulty with Spock on the romantic front later on. For now, what was most important to her was that her beloved would soon be brought back to the land of the living... and when he was, she intended to be there.

* * *

A short time later a stargram arrived for Scotty from Scotland and his sister. The first part was as he expected, a lecture for having had Kirk write when it was Scott's responsibility as kin. However, he hoped that she remembered that he had never been a good or regular correspondent even at the best of times -- and this definitely wasn't. Of course, even the best of writers would find it difficult to put into words how and why someone's husband, son, or other loved one had died. The younger they were, the more tragic it was -- and Peter had only been fourteen years old.

Scott also hoped that Fran was over the worst of her grief, grief which would prompt her to flay him alive, stating unequivocally that she wished he had died instead of Peter. The fact that the boy had died a hero, saving several of his shipmates, would come as cold comfort to his grieving mother, as it did to his equally devastated uncle. She seemed to be, but could still also be numb from the shock. The magnitude of what had happened probably hadn't sunk in yet. And if that was the case...

Had it not been for Peter's love of engineering and the stars, he would still be alive. If only Khan hadn't been so determined to rid himself of James Kirk that he would kill countless innocents in order to accomplish his objective. But no amount of "if-onlys" would bring Peter back to life, no amount of recriminations or regret.

Scott continued reading, breathing a sigh of relief as he noted his sister's seemingly calm, rational and comforting acceptance of her loss and reassurance to her brother that she didn't blame him for her son's death. Upon finishing it, the engineer reached for his intercom and contacted Kirk.

"Scott to Kirk."

"Yes, Scotty. What is it?" the Admiral answered.

"Ah jus' got an answer from my sister to th' stargram you wrote f'r me about Peter. Ah thought ye'd like t' read it."

Kirk yawned. "I'm a little tired, but I suppose I can stay up long enough to see what your sister has to say."

"Ah'll be there in a few minutes, sir. Would ye like me t' bring some of m' Scotch?"

Scott left his quarters moments later, bottle and stargram in hand. Not long afterward the engineer was pressing the buzzer at his CO's quarters.

"Come," Kirk said; Scott stepped in to find Kirk at his desk with one chair at the ready, along with two glasses waiting to be filled with the amber liquor both men enjoyed, but that Scott particularly favored.

After Scott sat down, he handed Kirk his stargram and began to pour them each a glass. The engineer was nervous in spite of himself, so he allowed himself a good long swig as Kirk opened the stargram and began to read it. There was such a long silence that Scott was ready to climb the wall before the Admiral spoke again.

"Well, I'm glad to see that she's taking it so well," Kirk observed. "Though it does come as something of a surprise."

"She might still be in shock," Scott reminded him.

"That's a possibility," Kirk conceded. "But she says she doesn't blame you for what happened. I'd say that's a good sign." The Admiral picked up his glass of Scotch and took a good long swig of his own.

"Ah hope so." Scott sounded dubious. "Which reminds me -- how're Mr. Spock's parents holdin' up?"

"As well as can be expected, considering the circumstances... at least that's what Amanda said in her reply to my stargram. I'm also supposed to expect Sarek in the near future; he wants to talk to me about Spock."

"Ah hope it works out," Scott opined.

"So do I," Kirk replied. "I haven't heard anything yet... but with Vulcans, I've learned to expect the unexpected." The Admiral yawned again. "Now if you don't have anything else on your mind, I'd like to get some sleep."

"Of course, sir. Thank ye for y'r time."

Kirk nodded and smiled, then stood up and turned toward his sleeping alcove. "See you later, Scotty."

This time it was the engineer's turn to smile, nod and turn for the door. Upon arrival at his quarters Scott had another drink, then went to bed.

* * *

A month after Spock's death, Sarek still hadn't shown up and Kirk was beginning to wonder if he was going to at all, in spite of what Amanda had said. For weeks he had jumped at every beep of his intercom and was on pins and needles every time a stargram arrived. Of course, Sarek wasn't that much of a letter-writer; if he had important business, he preferred to do it in person. As Kirk had told Scotty, it was best to expect the unexpected where Vulcans were concerned, even though most people considered them so predictable as to be almost boring -- at least those acquainted with them.

He was more than "acquainted" with Spock, however, as was McCoy... and Sarek knew it. Just as Kirk knew that if the older Vulcan got self-righteous or judgmental about his son, he would tell him where to get off in no uncertain terms -- and courtesy be damned. People like that didn't deserve it. It had always been hard for Kirk to understand why Spock had always worked so hard to be fully Vulcan and buried his Human half as deep as he could... yet nothing he had done was good enough for Sarek. My God, if the man had wanted an all-Vulcan son, why didn't he marry a Vulcan woman instead of Amanda? Why penalize Spock for something he had no control over?

If all full-blooded Vulcans were like Sarek (and they seemed to be), Kirk couldn't blame Spock for leaving Vulcan as soon as he was able. Even so, it was partly his Vulcan training and partly the kind of person Spock himself was which had prompted him to do what he did -- and ultimately that which had gotten him killed.

Spock, Kirk's mind whispered. Spock, my friend. I miss you. If only you hadn't had to die. Tears misted the Admiral's eyes for a moment, then he wiped them away with one hand and continued making drinks for his command crew who were due momentarily: Sulu, Chekov and Uhura. Scott had had to go make arrangements for his nephew's body to be flown back to Scotland, then the memorial service. After that, he too would come to Kirk's apartment.

McCoy was home resting comfortably, filled with tranquilizers after having been caught breaking into Spock's shipboard quarters shortly before their arrival back on Earth. He had gone down to investigate; several guards around the forced-open, formerly sealed doors of the Vulcan's darkened quarters gave him questioning looks.

Kirk had shaken his head and entered cautiously, seeing a shadowy figure sitting in the meditation chamber. He had carefully approached it after the eerie sound of Spock's disembodied voice reached him.

"Jim..." it had said. "Help me. You left me on Genesis. Why did you do that? Help me..."

"Bones?" he had said upon realizing who the figure was. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Help me, Jim," the Doctor had said. "Take me home..."

Kirk had frowned uncomprehendingly. "Bones, we are. We are home."

"Then perhaps it's not too late. Climb the steps, Jim. Climb the steps of Mount Seleya..."

It was then that Kirk had realized that Spock was speaking again -- but using McCoy's voice. "Bones, Mount Seleya is on Vulcan. We're home, on Earth."

Then Spock's voice came again... one word which rang in Kirk's mind for weeks afterward: "Remember..."

Just then, Uhura's crisp voice had reached him. "Docking is completed, sir. Fleet Commander Morrow is on his way for inspection."

McCoy had collapsed in Kirk's arms. "Uhura, get the medics down here. Get them now!"

* * *

The door buzzer brought him back to reality. "Come," he said. Uhura, Sulu and Chekov entered, all in civilian clothes as Kirk was. He greeted them as he distributed the drinks; they soon began to speak among themselves about their recent experiences, sharing both personal observations and regrets until Kirk proposed a toast.

"To absent friends," he said. The four raised their glasses and they touched, then they drank again.

Sulu asked what would happen to the Enterprise; Kirk said, "She's to be decommissioned."

"Vill ve get another ship?" Chekov wondered.

"I can't get an answer," Kirk shrugged. "Starfleet's up to its -- brass -- in conferences. No one has time for those who stand and wait."

"Sir, about Dr. McCoy... how is he?" asked Uhura, her voice laced with concern.

"Home, resting comfortably, pumped full of tranquilizers. They say it's exhaustion. He promised he'd stay put. Well, we'll see..." Kirk's voice trailed off as his buzzer sounded again. It was probably Scotty. A tad late, but finally here. Kirk smiled expectantly. "Ah, Mr. Scott. Come!"

But the robed figure who stepped in was not of the corpulent engineer. This one was tall and well-built, with an almost regal bearing. The figure then reached to remove its hood and revealed the grey hair, elegantly pointed ears and weather-beaten face of Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan. Spock's father had finally arrived.

"Sarek!" Kirk exclaimed. "Ambassador, I had no idea you were here. I believe you know my crew." The older man barely acknowledged the other three Humans, his obsidian eyes fixed on Kirk. He obviously has no time for diplomacy right now, the Admiral thought to himself.

"I will speak with you alone, Kirk." The older Vulcan's tone made it a command, so the others knew it was their cue to leave.

"Please excuse us," Kirk said quietly, whispering to Uhura to tell Scotty not to come after all. By the time Kirk had turned around, the alien diplomat had removed his travel robe. The rigid back Sarek presented to him reminded Kirk so much of the times Spock had done the same thing in order to conceal his feelings and regain control of himself that pain stabbed through his heart. A picture of his lost friend popped into his head and Kirk once again heard in his mind, "I have been, and always shall be, your friend..."

Kirk spoke carefully. "How -- is Amanda, sir?"

"She is in mourning for our son," was the curt reply, indicating that Sarek had no intention of answering any further questions which did not pertain to the matter he had come to discuss. "How do you think she is feeling?" The Vulcan kept his back to Kirk.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. Even so, you must believe that I would have come to Vulcan at the earliest opportunity to express my deepest sympathies -- but as it is..."

Sarek whirled around, his cold, hard tone cutting Kirk off in mid-sentence. "Spare me your Human platitudes, Kirk. I have been to your government, seen the Genesis information and your own report."

"Then you know how bravely Spock met his death," the Human said quietly.

Sarek's eyes were icy black daggers. "'Met his death'? How could you assume that -- you, who claim to be so close to him and know him so well? How could you not have brought him back to Vulcan?"

"Because he asked me not to," Kirk threw back.

Sarek's gaze became even colder, if that was possible, as both his upswept brows raised. "He asked you not to? I find that highly unlikely."

"You want to know something? I don't happen to give a damn if you believe me or not. I only know what he told me. I saw to it that my friend's wishes were honored, and Vulcan tradition be damned! Spock is far more important, as far as I'm concerned." Kirk was angry now, his voice as frigid as Sarek's. He had had all he could stomach of the latter's high-handed arrogance.

"His will stated that he didn't want to be returned to Vulcan should he die in the line of duty. That is what I'm going by -- and by God, not you nor the entire planet Vulcan is going to make me change my mind!"

"You are becoming overly emotional, Kirk. Starfleet regulations require that the body of any Vulcan who dies in its service is to be returned there. Surely that would invalidate the dictates of a will."

"I don't need you to tell me about Starfleet regulations," Kirk snapped. "I'm also not surprised that you would suggest overriding the trivial personal wishes of an individual. It's one of the things you have a positive talent for. You never gave a damn about Spock's wishes or how he might feel. He always had to do what you wanted, live his life to please you. My God, if you wanted a fully Vulcan son, why didn't you marry a Vulcan? Then maybe Spock would have been the obedient little Vulcan robot who never questioned your orders, simply taken them as gospel and lived the life you mapped out for him, even married the woman you chose for him.

"Unfortunately for Spock, he had a little thing called a mind of his own, an outgrowth of his Human half... and because he followed his heart, did what was best for himself, he committed a cardinal sin -- and you disowned him for that; virtually cut him off! Because of this, I could never understand how Spock could have been so proudly Vulcan and virtually ignore his Human half when I saw what your estrangement did to him. You never appreciated a single thing he did, all the sacrifices he made. Haven't you any idea how deeply he respected you, how hard he strove to be like you?"

"My son and I resolved our differences on that subject years ago, Kirk. It is commendable that you cared so much for Spock, but recriminations will serve no purpose now."

But Kirk was wound up; he went on as though Sarek hadn't spoken. "And how dare you come here now and presume to judge me, claim to care when I know better? Never once did you or any other Vulcan treat Spock with the regard and respect he deserved; not even the simple courtesy one sentient being owes another... much less the love of a father for a son.

"Spock was a son any father would be proud of -- but Heaven forbid you ever let him know that, or show anything as 'Human' as pride in your flesh and blood's accomplishments! For twenty years I watched him suffer under the slights and contempt of full-blooded, so-called 'true' Vulcans when he more personified the IDIC philosophy than all the rest of 'his people,' as he called them, put together! When he died, I was damned if I would hand him over to you so you could bury him, then wash your hands of him and forget that he ever existed, as you did for eighteen years. He deserved a hero's burial, and that's what I gave him!"

Kirk took a breath, then continued. "I also don't know how I could have risked my own life to save you during the Babel incident. If I'd thought at any length at the time of how you'd treated Spock, essentially slapped him in the face... By God, I should have let you die." Kirk's voice was savage, but mercifully he had also run down like an eight-day clock. All his anger and bitterness were gone.

Kirk looked up after finishing his tirade, immediately ashamed upon seeing the stricken look on Sarek's face. The older man wasn't even trying to hide his pain. "Sarek, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I had no right to judge you. I should have realized--"

The Ambassador's raised hand cut him off. "It is forgotten, Kirk. Let us speak no further of it. All that matters now is Spock... but now that you have spoken, there is more I must say," Sarek said. "I must know why you denied Spock his future when he so obviously trusted you."

"Future?" Kirk was stunned. "I saw no future. He was dead!"

"Only his body was in death, Kirk... and you were the last one to be with him." Kirk could only nod. "Then you must know that you should have come with him to Vulcan."

"But... why?"

"Because he asked you to. Because he entrusted you with everything that was not of the body. He asked you to bring him to us -- and to bring that which he gave you, his katra... or living spirit."

At this point Kirk realized why Sarek had come to him. He had assumed that as Spock's closest friend, the younger Vulcan had given Kirk custody of his katra, not taking into consideration Spock's friendship with McCoy, even if it wasn't as close as Kirk's own with Spock.

Spock would have given his katra to Kirk under ordinary circumstances, but the circumstances hadn't been ordinary... nor had there been time for Spock to do otherwise -- so McCoy was elected, as it were. And if Spock hadn't considered McCoy a friend too, Spock would have not released his katra to him. Instead, he would simply have let his knowledge and life experiences die with him. But there was no way Kirk could have explained this so Sarek would understand, so he didn't try. Instead, he took a deep breath and began to speak, making his voice as gentle as possible.

"Sir, your son meant more to me than you can know. I would have given my life if it could have saved his. Believe me when I tell you he made no request of me."

For a moment the older Vulcan seemed shocked speechless, then said, "Kirk, I must have your thoughts. May I join your mind?" This was when Sarek asked for the mind-meld and Kirk consented. Hopefully it would help his friend's grieving father, give the older man a measure of peace and make the loss of his only son easier to bear.

The two sat down in front of the fireplace and Sarek gently placed one hand on the meld-points of Kirk's face. Their eyes were locked but unseeing; the sensation was as if Sarek's fingers were probing directly into his brain -- and Kirk began to mentally travel back in time. Sarek's image faded and he was back in Engineering aboard the Enterprise. Spock, his closest, dearest friend, was dying in the radiation chamber only inches from him and he could do nothing to help him or even ease his pain. Like Edith, he had had to let Spock die -- sacrifice the one life most precious to him in order to save countless others.

"He spoke of your friendship," Sarek said quietly.

"Yes."

"And asked you not to grieve..."

"Yes."

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few -- or the one."

Sarek's image faded again and Spock reappeared, horribly burned, suffering and dying. Kirk's eyes filled with tears. "Spock... my friend..."

"I have been... and ever shall be... your friend," Spock said. "Live long... and prosper."

"No!" Kirk shouted as if by doing so he could turn back time and negate the fact that his friend had died -- bring him back to life again.

Sarek sounded sad as he broke the meld. "Forgive me. It is not here. I had assumed he mind-melded with you. It is the Vulcan way when the body's end is near."

"We were separated. He couldn't touch me."

"I see. Then everything that he was, everything he knew -- is lost." Sarek's voice held more sorrow than Kirk imagined possible for a Vulcan. "Then I shall return to Vulcan and rejoin Amanda. Together we will mourn our son... mourn for the loss of his life, mourn for the loss of his soul."

Without further speech, the Ambassador stood up and headed for the door. "Wait!" Kirk called after him. "Please wait. If there was that much at stake, Spock would have found a way."

"Yes," Sarek admitted. "But how?"

"We'll go see Dr. McCoy," Kirk suggested.

Sarek's eyes widened. "McCoy? What would he know about Spock's katra?"

"He was in Engineering, near and available, seeing to Scotty, while I was on the Bridge. This was shortly before Spock died, so it's possible that--"

Sarek again cut Kirk off with a raised hand. "I see your point, Kirk, but we must be certain. Is there any way for us to view the ship's log recording from that time?"

Kirk nodded. "I'd have to pull some strings and call in a few favors, but we should be able to do it."

Kirk knew that even as powerful as the Vulcan Ambassador was, Sarek was a civilian and could only go so far in Starfleet. After that, only high-ranking members of the Fleet such as him-self had a high enough security clearance.

"Then it is logical that we begin immediately."

With that, the two men hurried from the Admiral's apartment, the door automatically locking behind them.

* * *

To their shock and apprehension, McCoy's quarters were empty when they arrived. They went over it with a fine-tooth comb in an attempt to discover where the Doctor had gone. After a fruitless search, the two looked at each other dubiously, although Kirk had to admit to himself that he wasn't surprised.

With the Vulcan's restless spirit locked inside of him, Bones was apt to do things he would ordinarily never do. Such as attempting to get to Genesis, which by now was off-limits to all but the science team aboard the Grissom, commanded by one J. T. Esteban... but Kirk had yet another worry. David Marcus was aboard as part of the aforementioned Science contingent. This was proof that the stars were as much in David's blood as in his own.

If Spock expected to live again, it would be necessary to retrieve his body from Genesis, then go to Vulcan. But in so doing, Spock's actions (or more accurately, what his essence prompted the doctor to do or say) could get McCoy in trouble up to his ears -- maybe even put away. If at all possible, he had to find Bones before that happened. Kirk knew what McCoy might do in an ordinary situation, but this was no ordinary situation... and consequently he might not be able to find the Doctor in time. All Kirk could hope for was that whatever Spock's essence got McCoy into, he would be able to get his friend out of without breaking too many regulations.

Kirk wasn't one to give up easily, but finally had to after Sarek convinced him that there would be time to locate McCoy after they determined whether or not the Doctor was indeed carrying Spock's katra. As it was, the Admiral had to do a lot of fast talking and throwing around of his authority once he and Sarek arrived at the records storage center at Fleet Command HQ in order to gain access to the visual log of the Enterprise, now under seal and under guard.

It seemed to take forever to gain not only access to the data but permission to view it just for himself, much less for Sarek. Kirk was even prepared to call in Fleet Admiral Nogura if necessary. Finally all the "red tape" was gotten through, and he and Sarek were ushered into a private screening area, standing quietly in the dark for about five minutes until the small viewscreen before them came to life.

Kirk had already relived Spock's death once today, but didn't see any way to avoid seeing at least some of it yet again in order to find out whether or not his suspicions were true. At stardate 8128.78, the screen showed the Vulcan lying against the transparent aluminum wall of the enclosed radiation chamber. At point seven-seven, it depicted the last words between himself and Spock.

"Back, point six-seven!" Kirk snapped. This was before Kirk had left the Bridge, before Spock had entered the radiation chamber and when the ship was still in danger of being caught up in the premature detonation of the Genesis Device. On the screen, Spock was frozen at the radiation chamber door.

"Go," Kirk said.

Spock began to move -- then McCoy entered the picture, intercepting Spock before he entered the chamber. They argued in eerie silence for a time, then the Vulcan distracted the Doctor by asking about Scott's condition. Once McCoy turned his back, the Vulcan's slender but strong fingers found their mark and the Human slumped into his arms. Spock gently lowered McCoy to the floor, then pressed his fingers to the Doctor's temple, lips forming the word "Remember."

"Hold," Kirk said; the image froze. "Repeat... and augment." The scenes backed up, then grew larger. "Audio," the Admiral finished. The screen reran the previous scenes, this time with speech. This time both Spock's father and closest friend heard him when he pressed his fingers to McCoy's temple and spoke.

"Freeze!" Kirk ordered. "Bones. Oh, my God. Bones!" His voice lowered two octaves, a mixture of concern and horror. This explained the Doctor's strange behavior and all his confusion, as well as the times Kirk and Christine had heard Spock's voice. He and Sarek looked at each other again before looking back to the screen where Spock and McCoy's enhanced images were once again frozen.

"One alive, one not," Sarek said. "But both in pain."

"What must I do?" Kirk asked.

"You must retrieve Spock's body from Genesis, then bring it and McCoy to Mount Seleya on Vulcan. Only there can both find peace."

"What you ask is difficult," Kirk pointed out. "Especially under the present circumstances."

"You will find a way, Kirk," Sarek declared. "If you honor them both, you must."

Kirk looked at the images of his two friends, his face becoming hard and determined. "I will. I swear!"

* * *

In the meantime, McCoy had reached his destination -- a bar about four blocks from his apartment -- all the while feeling as though someone else controlled his body. As indeed, someone else did... but he would not have believed it possible, even if he had known or been able to understand how or why it had come about. He also could not figure out why he was able to sort out given smells or voices and the languages they spoke in so easily. Even as intelligent as he was, he had never been able to translate without a universal translator, which he did not have at the moment. But there was no time to think further on the subject; he had reached the door of the bar.

A shudder of revulsion went through his body even as he touched the door due to the noxious smells of the equally noxious beings near him. However, he had to find the one he had come to see -- the one who possibly held the key to his regaining his sanity. He bumped into a young officer wearing an ensign's jumpsuit as he entered. He could only hope that the boy wasn't from the Enterprise; otherwise Jim would have had his hide. No, both their hides, for patronizing such a place.

McCoy was oblivious of all going on around him, only interested in finding a place to sit down before he fell down. He found it a moment later, gratefully sliding into the unoccupied booth and letting himself relax. He looked up at the sound of footsteps which stopped at his table. A tall, slender waitress stood there, her brief uniform decorated with lights which flashed as she moved; it clung to her curves in a most provocative manner. Her heavily sprayed hair never moved as she leaned toward him to pick up a half-empty glass the booth's previous occupant had left, along with a five-credit tip.

"Long time, Doc," she said with a smile. McCoy knew her, but couldn't recall her name.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Anyone been looking for me?"

She smiled again. "I have, but what's the use? What'll it be?"

"Altair water," he said.

The girl frowned slightly. "Not your usual poison."

"To expect one to order poison in a bar is not logical," he said, not realizing that he would never have said such a thing had he been himself... but because he was not himself, he let it slide. The waitress gave her customer a strange look, then smiled and winked when he explained. "Pardon me. I'm on medication."

"Got it." She left to get him his drink. Another set of footsteps approached even as hers receded; the newcomer slid into the booth beside McCoy.

"Hello! Welcome to my planet."

"I think that's my line, stranger." McCoy pointed to himself.

"Oh, forgive. I here am new. But you are known, being McCoy from Enterprise."

"You have me at a disadvantage, sir," the Doctor said.

"My name not important. You seek I. Message received. Available ship stands by."

"How much, and how soon?"

"How soon is now. How much is... where?"

"Somewhere in the Mutara Sector," McCoy whispered.

The alien was taken aback. "Oh. Mutara restricted. Take permits many -- money... more."

"There aren't going to be any permits. How can you get a permit to do a damn illegal thing?" There was silence for a time before the Doctor continued. "Price you name, money I got."

The alien's voice became hard and cold. "Place you name, money I name. Otherwise bargain no."

"All right, dammit! It's Genesis. The name of the place we're going is Genesis!"

"Genesis?" the alien repeated, stunned, voice raising two octaves and attracting the attention of nearby patrons.

"Yes, Genesis! How can you be deaf with ears like that?"

"Genesis allowed is not. Is planet forbidden!"

McCoy grabbed him. "Now listen here, my backwards friend. Genesis may be 'planet forbidden,' but I'm damn well--" A hand closing around his arm cut McCoy off in mid-sentence. There was a young black man smiling at him. Only when he leaned forward did McCoy re