a half hours at most, and I'm willing to give
them a
little leeway. In the meantime, I won't risk
having
crewmembers down there if any trapped
pirates decide
on another surprise attack."
Scott sighed tiredly. "Aye, Captain.
We'll be
beamin' up, then."
Captain's Log, Stardate 7003.4:
After being called to Aritani to investigate
pirate
attacks upon the population, we have discovered
that the planet is a veritable storehouse of
precious metals and fuel sources. My
guess is that
the attackers wish to subdue the population in
order to set up some permanent mining operation.
Unfortunately, we have not yet located the
pirate base nor any ships, and we assume
they are
using cloaking devices. Engineer Scott and
Ensign
Lanz have installed a protective
shield
around the planet, which will prevent other ships
from entering Aritani's atmosphere and which will
trap any ships in the atmosphere at the time the
shield was erected. According to Mr. Spock, the
fuel for the type of ship used by the pirates could
last no more than seven and a half hours, assuming
they are using a standard type of cloaking
MINDSHADOW
device. At that time, their shields will no longer
be
operable and our scanners will pick them up. I
expect we will be able to capture and question at
least one of the attackers.
Once the planet surface has been secured,
we
will begin beaming down our personnel for shore
leave.
Commander Spock was seriously injured during
the performance of his duty on the planet surface;
I am hereby submitting his name for commendation.
Kirk yawned and ran a hand across his face as if
to
clear away the gathering cobwebs; it'd
been some time
since he'd last pulled a double shift, and his
body was
no longer accustomed to it. There was still no point in
going to his quarters yet, however; he would be
unable
to slow his mind enough to sleep.
The bridge had been too quiet over the past
several
hours, the only disturbance being a shift change of
personnel. On the viewscreen, Aritani still
turned
lazily, revealing no sign of the destruction that
had
occurred on its surface. But it was the silence from
sick bay that Kirk found the most unbearable.
He snapped a toggle on the arm of the con
decisively.
"Kirk to sick bay."
McCoy's voice sounded as haggard as Kirk
felt.
"McCoy here. What is it, Jim?"
"How's Spock? Any change?"
"Not really..."
The hesitation in McCoy's voice
made Kirk sit up
straight in his chair. "Define "not really,"
Doctor. Is he
conscious?"
"Well, uh, yes and no. He's very groggy from
the
medication---"
"He's conscious, and you didn't call me?"
Kirk's
voice betrayed his anger. "That was an order,
Doctor,
whether you realized it or not."
It was McCoy's turn to sound insulted.
"Wait just a
minute, there, Captain---"
"No, you wait a minute, Doctor, because I'm
on my
way. Kirk out."
He cut off the communication before McCoy could
protest.
McCoy was waiting outside the intensive care
section
of sick bay, his arms folded tightly against his
chest and his chin jutting out in his best defiant
pose.
He began to speak before Kirk had a chance.
"I admit," he said, struggling to keep the
irritability
from his voice, "that neither one of us has had much
sleep and we're walking around like a couple of
exposed
raw nerves. But I am not going to let you walk
in
there before you listen to what I have to say, not for
the sake of my professional pride, but for the
sake of
that patient in there. In my medical judgment, there
was no point in calling you. Spock is only
semiconscious
and unable to respond---"
"My order did not include any leeway for
medical
judgment," Kirk interrupted coldly. "Is
he still
awake?"
"Yes, dammit, but you won't be able to get any
information from him right now--"
"We'll see." Kirk brushed past him;
McCoy followed,
seething.
At the sight of Spock, the coldness left
Kirk's features
instantly. The Vulcan lay in the shadows of the
dimly lit room, his breathing irregular,
labored as Kirk
had never seen it, for Spock was in pain. His dark
eyes
fastened on Jim's face, but they were clouded,
unseeing.
Kirk felt a chill of fear.
MINDSHADOW
"What happened down there, Spock?"
Spock closed his eyes slowly, but when he
opened
them again at Kirk, there was no recognition in
them.
"He can't speak, Captain." McCoy's words
stung.
"And I doubt he even knows you. There's no
point in
agitating him."
Kirk ignored him. "Spock, can you hear me?
Blink
if you can hear me."
Spock hesitated for an awful moment,
then lowered
his eyelids and raised them again.
Kirk shot a triumphant I-told-you-so
glance at McCoy.
"Spock, blink if you know who I am."
There was a long silence filled only with the sound of
tortured breathing as Spock fought the effects of
his
injuries and McCoy's painkillers and struggled
to remember.
"Don't you know me, Spock?"
"Stop it, Jim! That's enough." McCoy moved
toward
Kirk as if to pull him from Spock's side, but
the
look on the captain's face stopped him.
You must know me, Kirk directed the thought toward
the Vulcan desperately. You know me better
than
anyone else; you've touched my mind a hundred
times. How can I touch yours now?
But it was useless; he was no telepath, and even
if
he could touch Spock's mind, he doubted that the
Vulcan would be able to respond. He
began to turn
away.
And then Spock blinked once, slowly, and
closed
his eyes as though the effort had exhausted him.
Kirk
felt a sense of absolute victory.
"When he makes any improvement, or if he
says
anything, contact me," he said to McCoy, but his
/>
eyes
were still on Spock. As he walked toward the door
to
leave, something made him turn and face
McCoy.
"And that's an order."
He left McCoy turning behind him.
Kirk stepped off the turbolift to the sight of
Aritani
on the screen, a sight that was rapidly becoming more
of an affront than a pleasure.
Sulu rose from the con. "Any change?"
Kirk asked.
The helmsman watched as his captain
attempted
unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. At present
the captain
had been on duty for close to twenty-four
hours, and
Sulu seriously doubted his ability to stay
awake in the
comfortable command chair. He toyed with the idea of
suggesting that the captain repair to his quarters for
some rest, but in light of Kirk's recent mood,
decided
it would be best not to mention it. Sulu did not need
to
call sick bay to find out Mr. Spock's
condition; the
look on Kirk's face when he'd first come
back from
sick bay had told Sulu just how serious the first
officer's injuries were.
"No, sir," he replied simply. "All
quiet. We haven't
picked up the first sign of pirates, or any
other vessels, for that matter. Apparently this is
usually a very quiet neighborhood."
Kirk seemed keenly disappointed. "No
pirate vessels?"
"Captain," Uhura called from her station,
"Mr.
Scott just called to let you know it's been eight
hours."
"Eight hours..." Kirk was momentarily lost.
"Oh,
yes. Already? Let me talk to him."
"Yes, sir." Scott's voice came from the
engineering
deck.
"Scotty, what are the chances that one of the pirate
vessels could go longer than eight hours with their
cloaks up?"
"Impossible, sir. Of course, I'm not the
expert.
MINDSHADOW
Spock would be the one to ask--except I guess
he's
not up to answering questions right now."
Kirk did not answer.
"Of course, he did say
seven-point-four-two hours,
sir, and I'm sure his answer would be just
the same
now. You've allowed more than another half hour
to
be on the safe side. There's no ship I've
ever heard of
that could keep a cloakin' device operating that
long."
Kirk sighed. "I'd hoped to catch at least one
of the
ships beneath our shield. It would have made it a lot
easier to locate their base."
"Aye, that it would."
"Guess I'll have to tell the transporter
room to start
beaming down shore parties."
The sound of a muffled hoot came from the other
end of the intercom. Kirk frowned.
"What was that, Engineer?"
"Nothing, sir," Scott replied meekly.
"One of the
men down here overheard you mentioning shore
leave."
Kirk's expression softened. "It has been a
long
time, hasn't it? The crew has
certainly earned a little R
and R."
"You have, too, sir."
Kirk could not disagree with Scott's statement, but
his reaction to being selected by the computer to be in
the first shore party of one hundred to go down to the
surface was something less than gleeful. He
offered to
let Scott take his place, a proposition that
Scott accepted
rather quickly, as Ensign Lanz happened to be
in the first beamdown group.
The door to McCoy's cabin opened quickly in
response
to the buzzer; Kirk had guessed that the doctor,
too, would not be sleeping. Instead, McCoy was
sitting at his desk with a bottle of bourbon and a
shot
glass, pouring himself a drink--and not the first one,
by the looks of things.
His bleary red-rimmed eyes did not look up from
the
glass. "I suppose you came here for an
update on
Spock."
Kirk stood uncertainly in the doorway.
"I've already
checked with sick bay. That's how I knew to
find you here."
McCoy scowled. "I told them I was going on
shore
leave---"
"Christine said you'd probably be here . . . either
sleeping or drinking."
"Remind me to have that woman fired. She's
getting
to know me too damn well. If you've been
to sick bay,
then you've also discovered that Spock is in the
capable
hands of Dr. M'Benga, who has sworn to me
that
he will contact you the instant Spock utters a
peep."
"Bones," Kirk said suddenly. "Bones, I'm
sorry."
McCoy tried at first to shrug off the apology,
but he
sighed and shook his head. "It's not your fault,
Jim.
Do you realize that neither of us has slept for more
than two shifts now? It's no wonder we're
a little
temperamental. Especially after what happened to
Spock--" He lowered his head for an instant;
when he
raised it again, his voice was tinged with exasperation.
"But Jim, you've got to realize that there may be
some
things I just can't fix. I'm a surgeon, damn
it, not a
magician.. 2'
"I know," Kirk soothed. "And I was out of line
today. I'm sorry. You did a fine job on
Spock. Thank
you for saving his life."
"Well," McCoy said, more than mollified.
"You're
under a little stress, Captain. Apology
accepted." He
nodded at the bottle tucked under Kirk's arm.
"I can
see you're using the same prescription I am.
Have a
seat and I'll get you a glass."
MINDSHADOW
Kirk sat gratefully. "Now, Doctor,
tell me how I can
get some sleep."
"What's that you brought--some of that Saurian
stuff?. Drink a sizable portion of that, Jim
boy, and
your old country doctor promises you'll get
to sleep
tonight. In fact, why don't you try some of my
brand?
Kentucky bourbon, aged in the cask and twelve
years
old if it's a day--"
"I'll stick with my usual poison, thanks."
"It's your liver." McCoy handed the glass
to him.
"Look, Jim, when was the last time you took
shore
leave?"
"I dunno. Same time you did."
"Then it's definitely been too damn long.
And with
everything else that's been happening around here
lately, it's no wonder yo
u've felt like blowing
off some
steam. So cheers. Doctor's orders."
McCoy raised his
glass.
"Thanks." Kirk lifted the glass to his
lips and
stopped. "I'm not sure I can remember my
last shore
leave."
McCoy grinned devilishly and leaned across the
desk in his best dirty old man imitation. "I
can. Rigley's planet, remember? That little bar
where they do the most outrageous form of dancing. The
kind that could
knock your eyes right out of your head..."
Kirk snickered, "I remember, of course...
a native
dance, based on an ancient religion--"
McCoy rolled his eyes. "They don't make
religious
dances like that back home. Seems to me you also
succeeded in getting rather friendly with their
dancer, too--what was her name?"
Kirk's teeth were showing. "Lolama.
Lolama.
can't remember her last name."
"Wasn't important anyway. You were doing
fine I recall, until that boyfriend of hers
showedffment
"Thank God for transporters." Kirk
swallowed
more of the brandy and was almost beginning to feel
good. "I'm afraid though, that this time I'll be
spending
my shore leave here."
"As your personal physician, I'd advise
you to
reconsider. You said it yourself. you need to be
someplace
where you can be near animals, trees, birds...
After a while, the insides of this ship can begin
to get
to you."
Kirk's lips tightened. "I'd rather stay here.
Come to
think of it, I don't see you rushing off to enjoy
your
liberty."
McCoy's lascivious grin faded
entirely. "I thought I
might be needed here."
"You mean you don't want to leave Spock.
Maybe
he's why I don't particularly feel like taking
shore
leave down there."
"Because he was injured down there?" McCoy
asked quietly.
Kirk didn't answer.
"That's why we're so angry," McCoy
continued.
"Because it was such a stupid accident... so
unfair,
especially to someone like Spock."
"Explain." Kirk felt the knot in his stomach
beginning
to tighten again.
"To have such an incredibly logical mind... and
to
receive damage to the left hemisphere."
Kirk looked at him vacantly.
"You do remember from your academy days which
functions are controlled by the left hemisphere
of the
brain?"
Anatomy had not been Kirk's favorite
subject.
"Language?"
"Yes, and some memory, mathematics,
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