The Price of the Phoenix

CHAPTER XX

Spock sat up. James slapped his face.

Again,” Spock commanded, “harder.”

James set his jaw and put muscle into it. Again. Again.

Spock caught his wrist, remembering to be gentle. “Enough. Thank you. I am revived.”

McCoy swept the scanner over him. “But not recovered. “You didn’t stay under long enough, Spock. Those ribs and knees and hands are just beginning to knit. And the internal injuries—I hate to complain about a miracle. Anybody else’d be dead, but—”

“No miracle is involved, Doctor. Merely a useful technique. It will be sufficient. The process will continue at a slower rate.”

“Pain reading is still high enough to kill anybody.”

“I am functional, Doctor, and I have functions to perform. You will start on James now, and you will also run the standard identity checks.”

McCoy’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought his identity was not in question. He said you linked—”

“His identity is not,” Spock said. “Whether we can conceal or disguise it is.”

“I don’t follow you,” McCoy said.

Spock looked at James, then back to the Doctor. “The Enterprise cannot have two captains. But perhaps surgical alterations, special entry to Star Fleet with another background, or a political position-special ambassadorial—”

“Never work, Spock—records on every molecule of him, voice prints—”

“That should do it,” Kirk said. “Take the con, firmed. James?”

James nodded. “Needs to be established. Might also give us a clue to the process. Doctor?”

“You’re not in much shape for a check. I can’t find the injuries, but you’re hurting as bad as Jim.”

“It will pass,” James said quietly. “Let’s go. Spock, you rest.”

Spock sighed and lay back down in the manner of being put upon. Two of them!

“That should do it,” Kirk said. “Take the con, Scotty. Commander?”

He led her quickly off the bridge, flashing looks to the bridge crew, again acknowledging their response to his return. Uhura had worked steadily, with tears drying on her cheeks.

But he couldn’t take time for more. The turbo-lift doors closed and he said, “Sickbay.” And the Commander caught him as he sagged.

She held him up, then bent quickly and picked him up.

“Put me down,” he gasped, and considered himself lucky not to yell.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “I can carry you easily.”

“Damn it, not through the corridors of the Enterprise!”

She arched an eyebrow. “I daresay you’ve been carried to Sickbay before. You mean—not by a woman.”

“Probably,” he admitted. “What if I do? It’s a tough idea to get used to. I don’t mind if you have muscle-but do you have to throw your weight around?”

She shrugged as if his weight were not a problem. “Do you? Its a fundamental principle: if you’ve got it, you’ve got to use it”

A point, he thought with a weary effort at fairness. Didn’t he use any muscle he had—and damn glad to have it? Enjoying it? If the shoe were on the other foot—? He let a rueful grimace concede the point Then—just put me down because—I’m asking. Would you have me carry you through your ship if you could walk—or crawl?”

She lifted her eyebrows, and her slow smile conceded a point too. “You’ll do, Captain,” she said and slowly swung him down.

He might have to crawl at that. He fought his knees while she kept her arm around him, and there was no teasing in her support now. “It’s all right,” she said softly. “You have every right. Don’t fight it quite so hard. Surely you can accept a shoulder?”

He smiled weakly and put his arm around her, leaned on her heavily. Hard to believe such slimness could contain such strength. “Friends?” he whispered.

“Friends,” she said and stood straight under his arm as the turbo-lift decanted them, her circling arm all but carrying him as he tried to make his feet track.

But she made it look good, and the odd looks he got in the hall were more Captain-got-the-girl-again than anything else. Or just It’s-the-Captain-welcome-home-sir. He could see that they wanted to run to him, touch him. But they held to discipline and let him move on, never knowing quite how much they had. One day he would have to take a week off and let himself feel what he felt about that.

“Spock,” he said near the door. “I have to make it from here.”

Her eyes understood and she let him go, but he could feel hair-trigger reflexes at his side ready to catch him again as he cleared his face and set himself to make it.