Killing Time

He shook his head violently, trying to clear words which melted into his consciousness from a time in the past. Words his father had said to him when he'd accepted command of the ShiKahr.He'd denied it—instinctively. But Sarek had been correct. Somehow, whatever companion he'd once envisioned finding among the stars had escaped him. And yet, the actual memories of Vulcan—of his own past—were far less real, more comparable to images on a vid-screen than to actual memories. But it didn't hurt that way. Nature's way of making rejection easier to accept.

For an instant, nausea rose in his stomach, and he tasted the metallic salt of a madness he had not felt in years. Vulcan. T'Pring. Home and wife and family and expectations: gone. What remained? The stars—something T'Pring would have forbidden. Space-freedom. Isolation—acceptable … for a Vulcan. And Command—a different type of home altogether.

He took another deep breath, trying to stand. But before he could gain his feet, a face materialized before his mind's eye: firm features, ta

T'hy'la?He wondered briefly if this human could be the companion, the friend, the brother. But … no. Images received during periods of physical—or mental—illness could not be considered accurate.

He closed his eyes once more, fought down the nausea, and slowly inched his way back up the wall. But his legs trembled violently as he clutched the bulkhead.

Through a long tu

"Captain?"

A hand touched his shoulder—firm, strong, human.

"Captain? Are ye all right? Here, sit down and I'll get in a call tae Sickbay, Captain Spock."

The hand urged him gently toward the deck, but he resisted, shaking his head in negation. He blinked once more, and forced his eyes to focus. Engineer Scott looked back at him as the ethereal tu

"That will not be necessary, Engineer," the captain replied, unconsciously moving back until the other man's hand fell away. He realized disjointedly that it was Scott who had brought him back—but … back from where?He tasted a single moment of illogical resentment. "I am … quite well now."

Scott looked dubious. "Are ye sure, Captain?" he asked worriedly. "If you'll pardon my sayin' so, ye look like ye've just been around the galaxy at warp speed—without a spacesuit!"

Again, the Vulcan shook his head, and absently straightened the maroon command tunic. The silk fabric felt cold, he realized disjointedly. Cold and alien and out of place. He glanced around the corridor. All normal now. Proper curvature of halls. Vulcan inscriptions. Darkened night corridors. All completely normal.

"I shall … retire to my quarters, Engineer," he stated in a voice which left little room for disagreement. "You may carry on with your duties."

Scott stared blankly at the Vulcan commander. "With all due respect, Captain," he replied, "it's three in the mornin'. My duty shift ended four hours ago." He reached out as if to steady the Vulcan, then stopped when the captain stepped away, deliberately avoiding his touch. "At least let me see ye tae your quarters," he offered.

Finally, the Vulcan nodded. "Very well, Mister Scott." Illogical to argue, he thought, remembering just how concerned these unpredictable humans could be. He studied the engineer out the corner of his eye as they began to walk—quite slowly, he noted—down the corridor and toward the turboshaft. Upon reaching the lift, he turned, facing the other man. The engineer's face was compassionate, warm and friendly … but not the same face as in the persistent vision.

"I am really quite well now, Mister Scott," the Vulcan reassured the other man, feeling a sudden need to be alone. "Please do not trouble yourself further on my behalf."

After a long moment of silence, Scott nodded, and reluctantly stood aside, wondering if he would everunderstand the Vulcan captain's stubbor

* * *

Ensign Jim Kirk hadn't been aboard the VSS ShiKahrtwo days before the first fight began. He stared at the young oaf who had been assigned as his roommate, and felt the anger rise with visible results to darken his cheeks.

"Look, Kirk," the haughty ensign said with a sarcastic grin, pressing his weight against Kirk to pin him to the corridor wall. "We don't want you here any more than you want to be here. So you'd better just get used to doing what you're told!"

Jim wrestled valiantly, but to no avail. Do

"Why don't you climb down off my back, Do

The grip loosened somewhat as Do

"I was here first, draft-dodger!" Do

Kirk laughed despite the pain in his throat, his legs, his arms. His voice lowered to a deceptive purr. "So were the Neanderthals, Do

Do

"For a littleson-of-a-bitch, you've got awfully bigideas!" The cold gray eyes hardened as Do

Kirk stared at the other ensign with cold, lethal hatred. Of all the possible roommates, he just hadto get Do

But Do