Picture of the Day~Bones Squared

Here are some pics of Karl Urban, the actor who will play Dr. Leonard H. "Bones" McCoy in the upcoming Star Trek movie, and DeForest Kelley, who originated the role. I adore DeForest Kelley--but I've heard good things about Karl Urban. I just hope he lives up to the hype...

Karl Urban, DeForest Kelley

DeForest Kelley, Karl Urban

DeForest Kelley


Karl Urban

Clip of the Day--The New Star Trek

Ok--I'm nervous about this. New actors playing Kirk, Spock and Bones?! Not to mention Scotty, Sulu, Uhura, Checkov and the rest of the Enterprise crew?

On the other hand, Leonard Nimoy is deeply involved in this new film. So things can't go that wrong, right?

And I've gotta admit that I love the teaser trailer. It's a gorgeous homage not only to Star Trek but to our space program. (Pay attention, America! We are a nation of frontiers. We need our space program!) And Leonard Nimoy's voice sends chills down my spine.

The trailer I've posted is not the latest, however. Check out the newest one, which specifies a Summer 2009 release, at the official site.

However...I still don't know what to think. So much of the original series--and the original films--relied on the chemistry between the Big Three. Can the new Kirk, Spock and Bones capture that? For me, I guess that's the big question...

Lawful Obedience, Part Seventeen

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fan Fiction (Star Trek)
Rating: PG-13

LINK TO PART ONE

~

Lee was wise not to expect a waltz. In fact, Mr. Sulu—who was responsible for the idea of making room for a dance floor—called up a 'song' from the computer that did not, in Lee's opinion, deserve to be called music. The song had a driving beat to it, courtesy of the savage drums in the background. That didn't deter Sulu in the least, however. He struck out on the dance floor with relish...and gave Lee his first look at what now passed for dancing.

Lee turned to Uhura, but she had a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing at his shock. He sighed. "I take it I'm pale as a ghost again?"

She managed a nod. Then she turned to Sulu and called out to him. "Sulu! Our new yeoman here is somewhat old-fashioned. Can you start with something more suitable?"

"Sure!" he called back. "Hey—I know a few really old songs. I mean, we're talking songs that have been covered and recovered for centuries."

"That'd be lovely," Uhura assured him.

"Computer!" Sulu called out, pausing from his gyrations for a moment. "Switch to—oh, what's it called?—I'm Too Sexy."

Another driving beat started as Sulu began to dance again, mouthing the words "I'm too sexy for my shirt." Soon he was suiting his actions to the lyrics as he stripped off his gold uniform tunic, leaving only the black shirt he wore underneath. Worse, he made a show of tossing the gold shirt to the side—a performance which drew him a round of applause from nearly everyone. There were even a few appreciative caterwauls from the ladies present. As he continued to move provocatively, the meaning of 'sexy' became quite plain to Lee.

Lee rolled his eyes at Uhura. Some vague thought of shielding her from such a display crossed his mind, but he buried it when he discovered that she was not even bothering to hide her laughter any longer.

Lee sighed again and turned his attention back to the dancing. Another ten or so crewmembers had joined Sulu, but he clearly owned the floor. Lee finally managed a smile at his Oriental cabin mate—it was hard to disapprove of someone with such enthusiasm and such an utter lack of self-consciousness.

Uhura put a hand on his arm. "I take it you're not ready to try a dance yet?" she asked, slanting her eyes at him.

"My apologies, but no," he said emphatically.

Mr. Sulu however, had other ideas. As the song ended, he headed straight toward Lee and grabbed his hand.

"Thank you," Lee said, "but no—"

"You've got to dance with me," Sulu insisted. "I'm letting you share my cabin, remember?"

"Nonetheless, sir, I—"

"This is an order, Yeoman," Sulu warned him with a wicked grin.

"And this is an abuse of command, Mr. Sulu," Lee retorted.

Sulu laughed. "So fill out a harassment report in the morning. Come on!"

With Sulu pulling him and practically everyone else—including Lt. Uhura—giving him friendly encouragement, there seemed to be no polite way to escape the dance. And since it seemed to be acceptable for a man to dance with another man and a woman to dance with another woman, Lee gave in with all the grace he could muster and treated Sulu to a formal bow.

Sulu laughed again and bowed in return. It was a quite elegant bow at that. Then he called out for another song. "We'll stick with the old-fashioned stuff," he assured Lee. "Computer, play Two of Hearts."

Another driving beat began. Soon Sulu was mouthing words along with a female voice as he danced. And the words were quite clearly about the singer's burning desire for someone. Lee did his best to ignore the lyrics, however, and began to follow Sulu's moves—though he could not bring himself to imitate Sulu's abandon.

The dance cost Lee a great deal of dignity—but fortunately his sense of humor came to his rescue. He had always had a keen appreciation for the ridiculous. So before too long, he was able to ignore much of his shyness and reserve.

Sulu, meanwhile, was regarding him with delight as he continued his provocative dance. "You're a great dancer!" he shouted above the music. "You and me, my friend, in the right club…"

Fortunately he let his words trail off. Lee was didn't want to consider just what sort of 'club' allowed and encouraged this style of dancing.

~

Kirk entered what had clearly become the 'dance' room; some Latino song was playing at the moment. He made his way over to Uhura and Janice Rand, who were just coming off the floor together. But as he surveyed the rest of the dance floor he nearly fell over in shock. The pair attracting the most attention—and well deserved attention, at that—was Sulu and Lee.

"My, my," Kirk commented as he reached the two ladies.

Uhura laughed playfully as she nodded at him. "Mr. Sulu has absconded with my escort," she complained. "He's kept Lee out there for three songs now!"

"Is Mr. Sulu aware that your escort is straight as an arrow?" Kirk asked.

"Yes," Rand answered, winking at the captain. "They're both just enjoying the dancing."

"That's all," Uhura confirmed. "Besides, I think Lee would find it too shocking to dance with a woman like that."

Rand tilted her head at that. Then she narrowed her eyes at Lee. "He's not doing anything over the top," she said judiciously. "If he's afraid to dance like that with a woman...well, he must have been raised somewhere quite conservative."

"He was," Kirk said, biting back a grin. "In fact, I'm astonished to find him dancing with Sulu."

"Well, Sulu all but forced his hand," Uhura explained. "Lee's just being a good sport about it. However, I do want my escort back!"

Kirk smiled at her and considered his options. "Let me see what I can do."

As the song ended, Kirk walked out onto the dance floor and tapped Sulu on the shoulder in order to prevent him from ordering up another song. Then he turned to Lee.

"Yeoman," Kirk said, "would you care to help me elevate the dancing in this room?"

Lee grinned at him. "Nothing would give me more pleasure, sir," he said with a bow.

Kirk nodded and thought for a moment. Then he ordered the computer to play a waltz by Strauss.

"Just a moment, sir!" Sulu objected. "I'm game—but I don't know how to waltz. I think you two will need to demonstrate."

As that request garnered enthusiastic support from all present, Kirk raised his eyebrows at Lee. "Would you care to lead, Yeoman, or shall I?"

Lee laughed. "You're the captain, sir," he pointed out. "Just give me a moment to think how not to lead."

Their demonstration went off smoothly enough, all things considered. Soon each man was moving onto other partners to offer instruction. At length everyone sorted themselves out into couples. Kirk paired up with a lovely young woman from Engineering, but he noticed Sulu gliding across the floor with Rand. And Lee, at long last, was leading Uhura out onto the floor.

Sulu enjoyed the waltz so much that he ordered another one—and declared that his new passion would be ballroom dancing. That evinced a groan from just about everybody, including Lee. Kirk grinned at that. Apparently the yeoman had already figured out that Sulu adopted a new hobby every twenty-four hours.

Everyone changed partners for the second waltz. This time Kirk led Uhura out onto the floor. As he smiled down at her, he couldn't help but wonder why he consistently let every opportunity to date her slip away from him. And the opportunities had certainly been there.

But he knew the answer to that. He would never be able to merely 'date' Uhura. If something developed between them, it would be something serious. And Kirk knew himself well enough to admit that he was poor husband material. Uhura deserved better.

Did Lee deserve Uhura? Probably, Kirk thought. Lee was good husband material—he'd managed to be happily married for decades after all. He and his wife were only parted by death. And by all accounts, he had stayed faithful to his wife even when the Army kept him far away from her.

He'd have to get past his racism, of course. But the fact that he'd served as Uhura's escort tonight and then danced with Sulu indicated that he was already outgrowing it.

Still, Kirk wasn't sure how he felt about Lee and Uhura as a couple. But it didn't matter yet, he reminded himself. Apparently they were just friends at the moment. It'd take some time for anything more to develop between them. And if something more did develop—well, Kirk would just have to think about what was best for Uhura.

Even if it killed him.

~

The night didn't end till several hours later. By then only Lee, Uhura, Sulu, Rand and Kirk remained in the rec-room. And they were seated around a table now, drinking some sort of specialized water that was supposed to replenish the body of any lost nutrients due to exertion.

Lee was surprisingly at ease. That was odd, considering that he was the newcomer here. But the others did not treat him as such. On the contrary, they subjected him to an informal camaraderie that would have been objectionable had it not been so clearly well-intentioned. And he found himself enjoying it.

"Well," Yeoman Rand said, after a last gulp of the water, "three more days."

"Three more days to what?" Sulu asked.

She punched him on the arm.

"Ow!" he said. "Oh yeah—your bat mitzvah thing."

"Yes," she confirmed.

Lee furrowed his brow at that. "What's a bat mitzvah?" he asked. "Is that—is that related to a bar mitzvah?"

"A bat mitzvah is the same thing," Kirk said, "except for a female. It's a girl's coming of age ceremony in Judaism. Instead of becoming a son of the commandment, Yeoman Rand will become a daughter of the commandment."

Rand smiled at him, clearly impressed. "Exactly, Captain!"

He winked at her. "Believe it or not, there are some non-WASP's floating around my family tree. Besides, after all that paperwork I put through to Starfleet to make this happen for you—"

Rand blushed at that. "I know. And believe me, I'm grateful."

Lee cocked his head at her as he made a mental note to look up the meaning of WASP. "Forgive me, but why should Starfleet care if you have a—a bat mitzvah?"

"They don't," she explained. "But—well, it's a long story. I only found out that I'm Jewish about a year ago. I didn't know before then. And since I wasn't raised any religion, I had just put down 'None' under the religion question on my Starfleet application."

"Bad idea," Sulu commented. "For future reference, always put down 'Interfaith.' That covers everything—including any changes you might ever want to make."

"I don't understand," Lee said. "Starfleet doesn't allow one to change one's religion? Do we not have freedom of religion?"

"We do," Uhura assured him, placing a casual hand on his arm. "And if you don't care what's on your official record, it doesn't matter. You can make whatever changes to your religion you please. But Starfleet does make it quite difficult to change your record. Not impossible, but difficult."

Kirk nodded. "Starfleet unofficially discourages conversions in order to prevent someone in authority from pressuring his subordinates to change their faith," he explained.

"So when Yeoman Rand decided to change the record of her affiliation," Sulu continued, picking up where Kirk left off, "Starfleet investigated to make sure the captain wasn't forcing her to convert to Judaism for his own evil and nefarious purposes."

"That's me," Kirk put in. "Evil and nefarious."

Rand grinned. "The whole thing was silly. I wasn't even converting. I was just trying to correct my records."

"Which does beg the question of why Starfleet needs to know our religious affiliation in the first place," Uhura added.

Kirk shrugged. "Partly for statistics—and partly to insure that the proper religious rites are observed during your funeral."

Lee, meanwhile, was still considering the unofficial rule. "I imagine Starfleet's reluctance to endorse religious conversions is also related to the Prime Directive."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Don't even get me started on the Prime Directive. It's a good idea in theory; after all, we're not a conquering army out to convert the natives of other worlds or to meddle in their internal affairs. But in practice…well, it can be problematic."

He paused and smiled at Lee. "But the moral of the story, Mr. Lee, is that if you want to change your religious affiliation, do so now before I submit your paperwork."

Lee grinned and shook his head. He remembered the form--it had allowed him to choose 'Christian,' but it hadn't permitted him to specify a denomination. Apparently Starfleet thought only in the broadest terms when it came to religious beliefs.

"I fully intend to remain Christian, thank you," he said. "But I'd consider adding 'Surak's Philosophy' to my affiliation. Wherever it doesn't contradict Christianity, at any event."

"You like that Vulcan philosophy?" Sulu asked. "You should talk to Dr. McCoy. He's a big fan too—he loves Surak."

"I admire your efforts, Mr. Sulu," Lee said, still grinning, "but Dr. McCoy has already made his opinion of Vulcan logic plain to me."

Sulu snapped his fingers. "Too bad," he said. "That would've been fun to watch."

Kirk rolled his eyes at Sulu and turned back to Lee. "Starfleet doesn't care about your philosophy—knock yourself out with Surak."

Yeoman Rand stood up at that. Lee couldn't bring himself to remain seated, so he stood up as well.

Rand gave him a sweet smile for his courtesy. "I've got to get to bed," she said. "Mr. Lee, please come to my bat mitzvah—or as much of it as your schedule allows. Just let me know what time you're available."

Lee smiled at her. "I'd be honored."

"Good," she said brightly. "All right—night all!"

A chorus of good nights followed her as Uhura stood up as well. "I should get some rest too. Would you like to walk down toward my section with me, Mr. Lee?"

He nodded, grateful that she had not invited him specifically to her quarters. A mere walk in that general direction, on the other hand, seemed respectable enough. "Certainly," he said.

He took her arm as he spoke, smiling down at her. He was so distracted by her answering smile that he scarcely remembered to say goodnight to Captain Kirk and Mr. Sulu.

But neither man seemed to mind, he noticed. In fact, they both looked as if they understood.

LINK TO PART EIGHTEEN

Clip of the Day--'Forget it, Bones'

In The Katra's Legacy I referred to the only other time that Spock called McCoy 'Bones.' Here's the scene, from an episode called The Tholian Web. (It also contains a rare apology from Bones to Spock!)

The Katra's Legacy

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Fan Fiction, One-Shot (Star Trek)

Rating: PG

Summary: In the wake of Kirk's death, Spock and McCoy discuss the legacy of McCoy housing Spock's katra. This can be read as either a friendship fic or pre-slash.

~

Spock stepped into the hotel, almost grateful for a haven from the bleak, oppressive rain outside. He did not waste time in the lobby, however, but went directly to the concierge for the number of Dr. McCoy's room. Then he made his way to the proper floor.

He found the room immediately, but he paused before pressing the button that would inform Dr. McCoy that a caller stood without. There was no need, he realized. The doctor would have left the door unlocked for him.

Spock entered without incident and glanced around the room. There were two separate beds, a large sitting area and a window that would provide, in clear weather, an impressive view of the San Francisco Bay. The room would be more than adequate, he decided.

And there was more evidence that Dr. McCoy had known he was coming. The temperature was higher than the doctor generally found comfortable—it was almost high enough to suit a Vulcan. And there was a tray of what appeared to be vegan snacks set out.

The doctor himself was not present, but Spock seated himself in a chair without any fear of invading McCoy's sanctum. He knew that McCoy would return soon enough from whatever errand had called him away—and that the doctor would expect him to make himself comfortable while he waited.

Fifteen minutes and thirty-three seconds passed before Spock heard Dr. McCoy's footfall. He stood up, waiting for his friend to enter the room. As McCoy did so the eyes of the two men met—and Spock could see relief mingled with sorrow in the doctor's.

"Spock," he said. "I was hoping you'd get here today."

"I arrived as quickly as I could, Doctor."

"I know," McCoy said. "This place is booked—you'll have to bunk with me. I'll even let you pick which of the two beds you want."

Spock nodded. "That is satisfactory."

McCoy nodded back, but then stood there uncertainly for a moment. At length he moved toward Spock with one arm outstretched. Spock grasped it—but he understood that, under the circumstances, the human required more than this mere clasp of arms. And perhaps he did as well.

And so he pulled McCoy to him. The doctor returned his hug whole-heartedly—he did not even seem surprised by it. For a long moment both men just stood there, each trying, without words, to comfort the other. McCoy finally broke off from Spock, but not before grasping his shoulders and giving him a look that was both weary and affectionate.

"I missed you," he said. "And God, I miss Jim."

"I know, Doctor," Spock returned.

McCoy nodded and released him. "I still can't bring myself to believe that he's gone," he continued. "I can’t stand to think that the three of us will never be together again. Starfleet has a memorial planned here—it starts the day after tomorrow—and then we might need to go to Iowa…"

He continued to rattle off the schedule of the various rites that would mark Jim's passing. Spock made a mental note of each as he sat down again.

McCoy took a seat opposite him. "Those snacks are vegan," he said, nodding at the tray.

Spock nodded. "My thanks, Doctor." Then he paused and gave his friend a critical look. "You have not been eating," he said. It wasn't a question.

McCoy gave him a wry grin. "You're not the physician here, remember? I'll eat when I’m damn good and ready."

"I have no wish to lose you through starvation, Bones," Spock said pointedly.

McCoy's eyes widened at that. He was moved—as Spock had intended—by the Vulcan's use of the nickname that Jim had bestowed on him. Spock had called him 'Bones' on only one other occasion: years earlier, when both he and the doctor had mistakenly believed their captain dead. Spock had quoted what he believed their captain would have said.

McCoy rolled his eyes and grinned again. "All right," he said. "Pass me one of those god-awful things."

Spock did so and watched the doctor make a face at it. But he ate it regardless.

“I’ll eat tonight too,” McCoy promised as he finished the snack. “I found a good restaurant for us—it’s a kosher-Indian-Thai place with plenty of vegan selections. They say they can even make Vulcan dishes. Will that do?”

“Yes,” Spock assured him.

McCoy nodded. “Good. I made reservations for 21:30—I know that’s a little late, but I wasn’t sure exactly when you’d get here.”

“But you knew I would be here today,” Spock said. Again, it was not a question.

The doctor shrugged. “I guessed you would.”

Spock narrowed his eyes at him. “Doctor, I have been told that…that the act of mourning often enables humans to discuss what they would otherwise leave unsaid.”

“That’s true,” McCoy owned, suddenly looking away. Then he turned back to Spock with a half-joking expression. “What’s wrong, Spock? Do you finally want to tell me how much you care?”

Spock cocked his head at him, ignoring the joke. “I have never thanked you for…for carrying my katra. Nor have I apologized for forcing it on you. There was no time for me to ask your permission and explain the risks that you would undergo.”

To his surprise, McCoy flashed him a rueful grin. “That was the second time you forced a mind-meld on me,” he said.

Spock raised an eyebrow at that. “Specify, Doctor,” he ordered.

“No—I’m wrong,” he answered, looking down. “It wasn’t precisely you that first time—and it wasn’t precisely forced.”

“You speak of the Mirror Universe?” Spock knew that his ‘counterpart’ had mind-melded with McCoy, although the doctor had spoke little of the matter except to confirm that it had happened. “I was under the impression that my counterpart did, indeed, force you.”

“He didn’t,” McCoy said quietly, still looking down. “I didn’t exactly invite him in, mind, but I didn’t fight him. I couldn’t, Spock. He was—well, he was too damn much like you. So I—I trusted him.”

Spock considered that. “That trust, it seems, was justified.”

“Yes, it was,” Bones agreed, his voice surprisingly flat. Then he turned back to Spock. “And you were justified to trust me to carry your katra—even if you had to knock me out and leave me without any instructions.”

“What I did to you, Doctor,” the Vulcan said carefully, remembering the precise moment that he had rendered the human unconscious and inflicted his katra on him, “violated your person, your privacy and put you at risk. It could be construed as a type of rape.”

McCoy’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Is that how you thought of it? My God, Spock, I never did. I just thought it was your revenge for all those arguments you lost.”

Spock almost smiled at that. But his face quickly grew serious again. “And after the fal-tor-pan we were both left with a legacy from the fact that you housed my katra. There is still a bond between us, Doctor.”

“I know,” he said with a shrug. “They warned us about that back on Vulcan, remember? Well, maybe you don’t. You were pretty out of it at the time.”

“I remember,” Spock corrected him. “The priestesses hoped that it would fade with time. It has not. I believe it has grown stronger. And it may grow stronger yet now that—” he broke off.

“Now that Jim’s death has drawn us closer?” McCoy finished.

“Yes,” Spock said.

McCoy considered that. “So what are you saying?” he asked. “That you wish to remedy this situation?”

“It may or may not be possible to remedy this,” Spock explained. He paused, studying the doctor intensely. He could feel McCoy’s agitation—but the doctor was not upset by the presence of the bond. He was upset at the thought of its removal.

Spock raised both eyebrows at that. “You…you want this bond to remain. Am I correct?”

“You’re correct,” McCoy admitted, leaning forward in his chair. “Spock—look, don’t misunderstand me. I’m glad that your katra is back where it belongs. I’d have gone crazy if both of us were still stuck inside my head. But—during the fal-tor-pan…I felt like someone tore out half of my soul.”

He paused and gave Spock a wan smile. “The better half.”

Spock did not trust himself to answer that.

At length, McCoy shrugged again. “If it’s a problem for you, Spock, then I’ll do whatever you think best to try to get rid of the bond. But…hell, you’re my best friend. I don’t mind having an inkling of where you are and what you’re thinking at any given time.”

Spock took a deep breath. “Very well, Doctor. I am satisfied to leave the bond in tact. I do not even know if it would have been possible to destroy it.”

McCoy looked relieved. “Good,” he said. Then he spoke quickly, as if anxious to turn the subject. “I’m going to rest up for a bit. Wake me up in about two hours, all right?”

“I will, Leonard.”

McCoy grinned. “First Bones, now Leonard—I’m not sure I can stand all this intimacy, Mr. Spock.”

“I will not keep it up, Doctor,” Spock assured him.

McCoy laughed appreciatively and then consulted with Spock over the beds. Once the necessary decisions were made, he got up, kicked off his shoes and began to stretch out on his.

“Before you rest, I will issue you an invitation,” Spock said, watching him closely. “I believe your latest research into alien physiology would be improved by use of the facilities at the Vulcan Science Academy. I can offer you both access to the facilities and the hospitality of my home.”

The doctor sat up. “Why, thank you Spock. I’ll take you up on that, on one condition.”

Spock cocked his head at him. “What condition?”

“That you come to Georgia with me first for a vacation. You’ll like it down there—it gets almost as hot as Vulcan.”

“Vulcans do not take vacations,” Spock pointed out.

“Think of it as a meditative retreat then,” Bones said with a wink. “Come on, Spock—don’t you think I want to show off the ancestral home too?”

Spock frowned. He recognized the teasing note in the doctor’s voice, for surely McCoy understood that a Vulcan had no need to ‘show off’? However, it was clearly important to the doctor that Spock make the journey to Georgia, even though Spock could think of no logical reason to do so.

“Very well, Doctor,” he said.

McCoy grinned. “Thanks, Spock.” Then he rolled over onto his side, away from the Vulcan. A few minutes later his breaths became deep and even.

Spock waited until he was certain that the doctor was sleeping and then exhaled slowly.

The doctor did not understand the depth of the bond between them. He did not understand that Spock could not seek a mate while he was so deeply bonded with him. It was not, Spock thought, that he had intended to seek a mate. But he had not ruled out the possibility.

Since Dr. McCoy did not understand the bond as a marriage bond, it should not prevent him from seeking a mate—so long as he did not seek a Vulcan mate, of course. But in Spock’s judgment, the chances of Bones seeking a Vulcan mate were…well, so negligible that he did not calculate them precisely.

So the bond held only comfort for Dr. McCoy. There was no disadvantage for the human.

Spock sighed. If he had explained what the bond meant, McCoy would have insisted on finding some way to break it. Spock knew that with absolute certainty. McCoy would be crushed if he thought that he was preventing his friend from marriage and a family.

It was well, then, that the doctor did not understand the true nature of the bond. For this, Spock realized, was something he could do for his friend: he could leave him with the comfort of their bond, without explaining the price of it.

At length Spock stood up and walked over to McCoy’s bed. He sat down on the edge of it and placed a hand on the doctor’s shoulder.

“Parted from me and never parted,” he said softly. As the vow indicated, he and McCoy might choose to go their separate ways in the future, but no amount of distance between them would ever separate them again.

And, although it was illogical, Spock found that he was glad for it.

~The End~

Picture of the Day

Oy--I know I need to finish The Monstrosity (and some other Bonanza stories, lol.) Right now, I'm so into the Star Trek story (Lawful Obedience) that it's been hard to write anything else. But I'm not abandoning the other stories...really I'm not!

Lawful Obedience, Part Sixteen

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fan Fiction (Star Trek)
Rating: PG-13

LINK TO PART ONE

~

There was something weighing on Spock's mind—Bones could guess that. And it had nothing to do with Uhura and Lee. No, if Bones didn't know better, he'd say that Spock was suffering from guilt. But that was impossible. He didn't think the Vulcan was capable of feeling guilt.

The lights blinked—the show would start soon. McCoy leaned over and whispered into Spock's ear. "What's wrong?"

Spock turned to face him, a brooding look on his face.

"Spock?" Bones prompted, still whispering.

Still the Vulcan said nothing.

"Spock, if you don't tell me what's eating you, I'll fret over it throughout the film."

"Eating me, Doctor?"

"You know what I mean!" McCoy snapped. Then he paused for a deep breath, so he could bring his voice back down to a whisper. "Tell me what's wrong before you drive me insane."

The Vulcan seemed to weigh that possibility in his mind. "I—I have much to tell you of Vulcan culture this evening, Doctor," he whispered back, so low that Bones had to strain to hear him. "If we should choose to bond, there will be certain…problems."

Bones narrowed his eyes at him. "The problems can't be insurmountable or you would never have approached me in the first place."

"That is true, Doctor," Spock confirmed as the lights dimmed.

Bones sighed in relief. "All right then," he whispered, dropping his own voice even lower. "I suppose I must have known that you couldn't just off and elope with a human. If this is a problem you can fix, I won't waste my time worrying about it right now."

"I can and will fix it, Doctor," Spock promised. "In fact, I have already begun inquiries on how best to do so."

"Good," Bones said with a smile.

The theatre was dark now, so Bones settled down in his seat. He let his eyes adjust as the screen came to life and a voice narrated the prologue of Romeo and Juliet. The scene rapidly morphed into a street brawl in old Verona between the servants of Capulet and the servants of Montague.

Bones frowned as he thought back to Spock's words. Vulcans, he knew, rarely married outside their own kind. As the son of a Vulcan father and a human mother Spock was, to the best of McCoy's knowledge, unique.

Bones sighed. He was sure there were plenty of people on Vulcan who would disapprove of Spock choosing a human mate. That was a depressing thought. He had no desire to cause problems for his…for his potential spouse. On the other hand, why should Spock's happiness be dependent on the whims of his culture?

McCoy grinned to himself. All right, 'whims' was probably the wrong word to apply to Vulcans. Call it their arbitrary customs, then. Was that why Spock had joined Starfleet in the first place? To escape those oppressive customs?

He settled back in his chair, determined to put the problem out of his mind at present. It would be much more fun, he decided, to enjoy the film and try to puzzle out Spock's likely criticisms of it.

Spock versus Shakespeare, after all, should prove quite interesting.

~

Uhura smiled apologetically at Lee, but there was no mistaking the glint of mischief in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "I thought that'd be a thoroughly respectable film."

They were sitting in a different rec-room now, enjoying dinner. They room was crowded, but they'd found a quiet corner table.

"It was respectable," he assured her. "And the actors were perfectly cast. I'm glad such a youthful pair played Romeo and Juliet—I dislike seeing thirty-year-olds in the parts. And the 'movie' itself was brilliant. When I think of the advances made since the photography of my day—"

"But…" Uhura prompted, gently interrupting him with another mischievous look.

"I was just—unprepared for the…lack of clothing in that one scene," Lee explained as he tried, unsuccessfully, to keep himself from grinning at her expression.

She chuckled at that. "I never knew anyone could turn as white as you did."

"Well, I'm happy to have broadened your experience," he retorted. "Now kindly stop torturing me, Lieutenant."

Uhura looked taken aback for a moment at the sudden formality in his tone, but then she started laughing again. "Was that your 'General' voice?" she asked.

"Yes," Lee confirmed, smiling again.

"Impressive," Uhura owned. "Quiet, but filled with authority. How do you achieve that?"

He winked at her. "Habit. I never raise my voice."

"Never?" she asked.

"Well, not in anger," he specified. "I suppose I'd raise it if I were screaming for help. But I see no reason to raise it otherwise—a man should be able to govern his temper under all circumstances."

Uhura set down her fork. "In some ways, you are remarkably like Mr. Spock—has anyone ever told you that?"

"Oddly enough, Dr. McCoy mentioned it."

She laughed again. "Well, he certainly should know."

Lee nearly choked at that. He was still doing his utmost to think of the two men as dear friends to each other and nothing more. And no doubt that's how Uhura thought of them. It was unlikely that she was aware of any other aspect of their relationship. And, fortunately, it wasn't his place to enlighten her.

"Indeed," he managed. "Now, if you don't mind me turning the subject, I should like to know more about you."

"Then I suppose I'll give you my standard biography," she said agreeably. "I was born on Earth in the United States of Africa to a Bantu family."

Lee blinked. "I didn't realize that Africa is united now."

"Why, Mr. Lee, the whole planet is united now!"

He laughed. "True. I beg your pardon, please continue."

"Swahili is my first language," she continued. "But I learned English early on…"

As she continued, Lee couldn't help but compare her to the women of his day—and to one woman in particular. Uhura was so very different from his wife. It was not merely the color of her skin: it was, among other things, her education. His wife had been reasonably well educated, of course—but not in the sciences. Yet Uhura needed a great deal of technological learning to perform her duties. And she was an expert in linguistics as well.

Like his wife, however, Lee guessed that Uhura would prove to be a woman of strong opinions. But unlike his wife, he couldn't imagine the lieutenant raising seven children. In fact, her very presence aboard this starship seemed to indicate that she had decided against a family—or had at least put the possibility off for the next five years.

He was tempted to ask her what she thought about marriage and children, but stopped himself. That would be unpardonably forward of him—he had no right to ask her such a question. Nor did he quite understand what would cause him such curiosity on the subject.

It was, perhaps, best not to examine his motivation too closely. Not at present.

Uhura paused suddenly in her narrative. "Look," she said. "They're moving the tables to make room for a dance floor. Let's help—and then you can treat me to the first dance."

Lee had to stop his mouth from falling open. He had not realized that it was a custom aboard ship for a woman to ask a man for a dance. Fortunately, however, he had enough sense to keep his shock to himself.

"Very well," he managed, as he stood up with her. He didn't precisely mind the notion of dancing with the lieutenant. But he prayed that he would recognize whatever the crew aboard this ship considered 'dancing.' He had a feeling that he should not expect the waltz.

~

McCoy behaved himself quite well on the walk over to Spock's cabin. But he took Spock's hand in his own as they reached the cabin door—he could only stand the distance between them for so long. Spock stiffened slightly at the Doctor's touch, but raised no objection to it.

The door slid open and the two men stepped inside. McCoy's eyes widened in delight—Spock had gone all out to make the room soft and romantic. His desk was serving as a table, complete with a linen table cloth, candles and a centerpiece consisting of lilacs and hyacinths.

Now why those two flowers? McCoy wondered. He would have to ask Spock if they had any particular meaning.

Spock walked over to the makeshift table and pulled out one of the chairs for McCoy. "Please sit down, Leonard," he said.

Bones smiled. He was touched—both by the romantic, old-fashioned gesture and by Spock's use of his given name. "Thank you," he said as he took his seat.

Spock nodded and took the chair opposite of him. McCoy watched him as his face clouded—apparently he was trying to find the right words for something.

"Would you like to tell me the difficulties we're going to encounter when it comes to bonding?" Bones invited.

Spock cocked his head at him. "You're making it sound as if our bonding is a forgone conclusion."

"I suppose I am," Bones admitted. "That's because the more I think about it, the more I like the idea. But I'll rephrase my question: if we decide to bond, what problems will we face?"

"My father will likely object," Spock began. "He has already arranged a marriage for me—I was seven years old, in fact, when he selected my bride."

Bones let out a low whistle. "I see. So you are…betrothed?"

"It is stronger than a betrothal, but not quite a marriage," Spock explained.

McCoy took a long moment to digest that. "Do you—do you like the girl?" he asked.

"I neither like nor dislike her, Doctor. My father and her father arranged the marriage because they reached the conclusion that T'Pring and I are well suited."

"But you have not reached that conclusion yourself?" McCoy persisted.

Spock sighed. "No, Leonard, I have not. I do not, unfortunately, know T'Pring's thoughts on the matter."

"What will happen to her if you break the…the betrothal?"

"She would be free to select another mate."

Bones nodded. "Good. So—are you willing to go against your father's wishes?"

"Yes," Spock answered. "I have already done so by joining Starfleet—my father wished me to follow his footsteps at the Vulcan Academy of Science." He paused. "However, breaking the bond I have with T'Pring will not be a simple matter. And while I have begun making inquiries, I am not yet sure how best to handle it."

He paused again—and blushed. Bones stared at him. Spock was actually blushing.

"While Vulcans exercise logic, Doctor, in selecting a mate, there is much that is…illogical…when it comes to the betrothal and marriage. I cannot, at present, tell you more than that."

Bones swallowed. "Spock, I have to know that you're free to bond with me before we tumble headlong into something."

"I agree, Doctor," Spock said with a definite note of approval in his voice. "Rest assured that I shall break the betrothal, even if it costs me my standing on Vulcan."

Bones stared at him. He couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard. "Spock—I don't know if I could ask that of you. I—I had no idea you'd be willing to break with your home world just to bond with me."

Spock's blush deepened. "Doctor, a marriage bond is not to be taken lightly. I wish to form it only with someone whom I know to be a suitable companion."

He paused again, apparently struggling to articulate his thoughts. "As I have said, your challenges to my logic force me to rethink and refine it. Your dedication to your patients incites my highest admiration. And, even in the midst of our quarrels, your presence fills me with…peace. It would be illogical of me to deny that we are quite compatible."

It was McCoy's turn to blush. He knew what a high compliment he had just received. And he knew something else—Spock might never bring himself to say the words, but that damned green-blooded, pointy-eared, Satanic elf loved him.

It wasn't the head-over-heals-falling-for-someone kind of love. Perhaps the General had been right to draw a distinction between that and the love that was an action: the act of love that caused a man to be faithful and respectful to his spouse. And it was the same act of love that would motivate Spock to hold his spouse higher even than his home.

McCoy stared at the Vulcan, wondering suddenly if he would give up Georgia for Spock's sake. The answer was surprisingly easy: yes, he would.

But he didn't want to give up Georgia—and he didn't want Spock to sacrifice his standing on Vulcan except as an absolute last resort.

Bones reached across the table and took Spock's hand again. "I want to bond with you, Spock," he said. "And I want you to do everything in your power to extricate yourself from your betrothal without making yourself a pariah on Vulcan. I will do anything in my power to help you."

Spock stared at him from across the table. He seemed to understand that McCoy no longer needed any emotional declaration from him. In fact, he needed no words at all.

But McCoy could see that Spock understood how much he needed the Vulcan's touch. And so the two men remained as they were for a long moment.

Neither saw any reason to let go of the other.

LINK TO PART SEVENTEEN

Lawful Obedience, Part Fifteen

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fan Fiction (Star Trek)
Rating: PG-13

LINK TO PART ONE

~

Lee escorted Lt. Uhura into the rec-room early enough to procure good seats. He waited until the lieutenant was seated before asking her if she'd care for a refreshment. She treated him to a warm smile and said that a glass of sparkling water would be fine. He smiled in return and then walked over to the replicator.

Fortunately, Scotty had taught him how to use the machine. He was able to call up a glass of sparkling water for himself and the lieutenant without a hitch. He was under the impression that 'sparkling' water was water with carbonation—at any event, it wasn't alcoholic, so he was willing to try it.

He handed Uhura her glass and took his seat beside her. He was still conscious of her clothing—or lack thereof—but he could scarcely fault her for it, as Starfleet had designed the 'uniform.' But he wondered how the men aboard the Enterprise managed to avoid a state of permanent distraction.

"I know you've never seen a movie," Uhura said, calling his mind back to their purpose in the rec-room. "Have you seen many plays?"

"Not many, no," Lee answered. "A great deal of my time was taken up by the Army, I'm afraid."

She smiled. "And the rest by a very large family, I understand," she said. "And not only family, but pets."

Lee smiled back. "Yes," he answered. Then he cocked his head at her. "It sounds as if you've done some research, Lieutenant."

She blushed at that. "I have," she owned. "I read that while you lived in Brooklyn, you rescued a dog from the Narrows."

"Oh—that was Dart!" he said, laughing. "She was a marvelous animal. Half drowned, poor thing, when I fished her out of the water. And at length she gave birth to Spec, who was one our favorite terriers."

"The one thing I don't like about serving on the Enterprise is the fact that we don't have pets," Uhura confided. "And I envy you for having had so many!"

"Well, lots of children often imply lots of pets," Lee said. "We had any number of dogs and cats—not to mention horses and ponies."

"Including the famous Traveller?" she asked.

Lee nodded, still smiling. "Yes—Traveller was…I don't even have words to express how much I loved that horse. I never had a truer friend."

"A poet named Stephen Vincent Benet wrote about him," Uhura said, leaning closer to him. "Let me see if I can manage the words:

`The horse is an iron-grey, sixteen hands high,
Short back, deep chest, strong haunch, flat legs, small head,
Delicate ear, quick eye, black mane and tail,
Wise brain, obedient mouth.'"


She broke off for a moment. "He used your own words, didn't he?"

"Yes," Lee said, remembering the grey gelding with a sharp, biting pain. Traveller had outlived his master, but he would be long dead by now.

"He goes on to say that they bred such horses in Virginia then—and buried them near Christian ground, so that they'd be at hand for their masters' ghosts," she explained, smiling again. "And then…and then he spoke about Traveller's rider."

Lee should have allowed her to leave it at that. But the look on her face told him that she had far more to say to him. He hesitated for a moment, but then decided that he could stand to hear the rest—and he could stand to hear her opinion on it. Perhaps he owed her that much.

"Go on," he said gently. "You can let the poet speak his mind on Traveller's master."

Uhura's blush deepened, but she was willing to continue. "He strove to—to humanize you, to see you…well, not as a marble statue but as a man of flesh and blood."

She paused and furrowed her brow. "He said you were a loving father and a good husband. He said you believed in God but didn't preach too much. And—and I do remember what he said about you as a general:

`This man could reason, but he was a fighter,
Skilful in every weapon of defence
But never defending when he could assault,
Taking enormous risks again and again,
Never retreating while he still could strike,
Dividing a weak force on dangerous ground
And joining it again to beat a strong,
Mocking at chance and all the odds of war
With acts that looked like hairbread'th recklessness -
We do not call them reckless, since they won.'"

Lee raised his eyebrows at her. "That's a fair bit of memorizing," he ventured.

She grinned. "I learn quickly. And I like those lines—they remind me of Captain Kirk. He's like that too: 'Taking enormous risks again and again, never retreating while he could strike…mocking at chance and all the odds of war..."

"With acts that looked like hairbread'th recklessness," Lee finished.

Uhura nodded. "Except they're not reckless—no more than your acts were. Kirk is reasonable too. And he has his Spock the way the poet says you had your Jackson."

Lee smiled at that. "Indeed," he said. "I suppose I should have guessed that Capt. Kirk and Mr. Spock have a similar bond between them."

"And I remember something else the poet said about you," Uhura continued. "He says you hid the key to your thoughts from would-be biographers."

She paused, slanting her eyes at him. "But then he quotes you saying, 'I'm always wanting something.' And he says that those words crack the marble of your statue and let us glimpse the flesh-and-blood man beneath it. And he, ah, finishes your section wondering what you wanted:

`It was not God or love or mortal fame.
It was not anything he left undone...

He wanted something. That must be enough.
Now he rides Traveller back into the mist.'"

Lee looked away for a moment, and then turned back to Uhura with a rueful smile. "You have the advantage of me, Lieutenant," he said. "My life is, of necessity, largely open to you. Whereas I know next to nothing about you."

She smiled warmly again and took a sip of her water. "I have no advantage," she insisted, setting the glass down. "You've managed to remain quite an enigma through the centuries, Mr. Lee. Besides, if you want to know more about me, you've only to ask."

The lights blinked then, presumably indicating that the 'movie' was about to start. For the first time, Lee noticed that the makeshift theatre had grown quite full.

"Perhaps, if you don't mind, you'll tell me more about yourself after the performance," he said.

She smiled at him once more before the lights dim. "I won't mind at all."

~

Spock sat quietly next to McCoy as they waited for the film to start. The doctor didn't seem to mind the quiet—and he didn't feel the need to fill the quiet with empty chatter. No, he was content just to enjoy Spock's companionship.

That was important to Spock—the fact that McCoy didn't require mindless chit-chat of him. That he, too, knew the value of silence. It was one of many things that told Spock the two men were fundamentally compatible.

Spock's eyes strayed toward the front of the 'theatre.' Lee and Uhura were sitting together in the third row, deep in conversation.

Spock raised one eyebrow at that. They were speaking softly, but his acute sense of hearing picked up their words. Uhura was quoting parts of Stephen Vincent Benet's Army of Northern Virginia to Lee. Fascinating.

Spock glanced at Dr. McCoy and saw that he, too, had noticed Lee and Uhura sitting together and conversing. McCoy turned toward Spock with a shrug that spoke volumes. It said that he didn't know what to make of the pair either. And it said that it was none of their business anyway—Uhura and Lee weren't specimens under their microscope.

Spock furrowed his brow. He had little interest in the various romances that were a constant feature of life aboard the Enterprise. The crew was on a five year mission together—it was only logical that the human crewmembers would regard each other with interest. Providing the romances did not disrupt anyone's duties, Spock was willing to ignore them.

But Spock did wonder if Uhura would understand how different Lee's assumptions were from her own. Spock had not quite understood that himself until he melded with the man.

Lee was not a man who would easily select an African woman for a mate. And he would be deeply shocked by Uhura's 'three-date-rule,' for he would never consider intimacy before marriage. And Uhura might not understand just how pious he was—he didn't wear his Christianity on his sleeve, but his religion was an integral part of his personality.

McCoy, Spock noticed suddenly, was grinning at him. He seemed to have been following Spock's thoughts.

"I never thought I'd see you take such a human interest in a fellow crew-member," McCoy said with a playful smile.

"It is not a 'human interest,' Doctor," Spock insisted. "I am merely concerned that Lt. Uhura's ability to perform her duties might be compromised if she suffers what you humans refer to as a 'broken-heart.'"

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, Spock. Uhura's no fool. And if Lee breaks her heart, it'll be by accident. He won't string her along and he won't take advantage of her. If things don't work out--assuming there's anything between them in the first place--she'll get over him."

Spock contented himself with a nod. But his thoughts turned back to Lee. When he was alone with the doctor, he would have to tell him of a decision that he had reached since he had melded with the new yeoman.

Lee's opinions regarding intimacy and marriage were likely correct, Spock had decided. Sexual relationships outside of a bonded marriage were problematic. Spock had only to look at his captain's complicated love life to be made acutely aware of that. Therefore, he would not engage in such activities with the Doctor until they were bonded together.

Of course, forming that bond would also be problematic. Not impossible—but it would be necessary for Spock to extricate himself from the marriage his father had arranged for him. And that, he thought ruefully, was something else he would have to bring up with the good doctor.

Spock sighed to himself, hoping that such a conversation would not prove too inappropriate for a first date.

LINK TO PART SIXTEEN

Clip of the Day

Another one of my favorite Star Trek scenes...again from Star Trek III: The Search For Spock. Everyone thinks poor McCoy has gone crazy with grief for Spock. But Kirk tells him that there's a reason for his strange behavior, and McCoy's reaction is...well, pure McCoy!

Lawful Obedience, Part Fourteen

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fan Fiction (Star Trek)
Rating: PG-13

LINK TO PART ONE

~

Dr. McCoy glanced with surprise at Lee's quarters as the two men entered. "They put you in with Sulu?" he asked.

Lee nodded, watching the door slide shut behind them. The doors on the ship still fascinated him. "Yes, sir," he answered. "It's quite improper, as he outranks me, but he assured the captain he didn't mind. At all events, it should be temporary."

"Sulu probably doesn't mind no matter how long you're in here," McCoy said. "He's a good man."

"And a very busy one," Lee said, thinking of the whirlwind that occasionally materialized into his cabin mate. "I've scarcely seen him."

The doctor grinned. "He's not one for keeping still—he's always got some project or other brewing. Now have a seat, General. I have some medication for you. This is called Lexorin—a Vulcan development. I didn't know it existed till quite recently and I had the devil of a time getting my hands on it."

Lee sat down on his bunk. "What's it for?"

"It's to help you with the after affects of a Vulcan mind meld. Don't worry—as far as we know, it's safe for humans." He handed Lee the medication as he spoke and then procured a cup of water for him from the lavatory.

Lee swallowed the pills and then placed the cup in the disposal. "Thank you, sir," he said. He paused then, considering his next words with care. "Doctor," he said, "is it possible that, through another mind-meld, Mr. Spock might be able to—to render my subconscious memories conscious?"

McCoy frowned. "Given that you have a degree of telepathic potential, I'd guess that it's possible—but I won't allow it."

Lee stiffened. "May I ask why not, sir? I should like—I should like a look at those memories myself."

McCoy took a seat beside him on the bunk and rested his hand on his shoulder. "General, I've found that our minds often know what's best for us. If a memory is subconscious, there may be a good reason for it. None of us are prepared to examine all of our experiences—and we have no business treating the subconscious mind as if it's a playground to explore." He paused. "Besides, as far as I can tell, you haven't even dealt with your conscious memories yet."

"What do you mean, sir?" Lee asked, cocking his head at him.

McCoy's sharp blue eyes penetrated him. "You've lost your family, General, and the world that you knew. Have you even begun to grieve?"

"No," Lee admitted, turning away. "I can't. I know in my head that they're gone—but part of me still thinks that my family and the old days are waiting for me back in Virginia."

"But they're not," McCoy said gently. "Sooner or later that loss will hit you. And when it does, please feel free to come and see me and get it off your chest."

Lee shook his head. "I should not wish to subject you to an emotional display of that sort—"

The doctor rolled his eyes. "Forgive me, General, but you're as bad as Spock. I've already got one logical basket-case on my hands—I don't need another one. When you're ready to mourn, make sure you do so."

Lee correctly interpreted the meaning of 'basket-case' and managed a smile at the doctor. "From the little I've learned of it, I rather admire Mr. Spock's Vulcan philosophy," he said.

"So do I," McCoy said, "but if you tell him so, I'll deny it till my last breath."

Lee grinned outright at that.

"However," McCoy continued, grinning back, "I think some caveats ought to go along with that philosophy. It's not that the Vulcans are wrong—we could all use some good, old-fashioned reason and logic. But denying what's in our hearts is not logical in the least. And suppressing emotions just leads to disaster."

Lee thought back to his conversation with Spock. "I don't know near enough about their philosophy," he said, furrowing his bow, "but I don't think Mr. Spock would argue that. I think Vulcans seek to master their emotions so as not to be controlled by them—not merely to suppress their feelings."

"Well, it's good to know that Spock and I agree on something," McCoy said, still grinning.

"Their philosophy is a bit like what our ancient Stoics taught," Lee added, "at least as far as I can see at present."

"There are similarities," McCoy owned, "though I wouldn't press the comparison too far. And now I'll leave you to get some rest, General. I don't expect to see you out of your quarters unless it's for some form of recreation. Don't begin any studies or research when I leave—I'm relieving you of any official duties for the remainder of the day."

"Yes, sir," Lee acknowledged, biting back a sigh. He'd been looking forward to more studies.

McCoy must have guessed that, for shook his head a little. "Take care, General," he said. And then he got up and left the room, leaving Lee with plenty of food for thought.

~

McCoy took his time in his lavatory, doing his best to follow Jim's advice and 'pretty himself up.' He decided against a dress uniform, however, as he still didn't know what Spock had in mind. He could always change, he decided, if Spock thought it appropriate.

He was just stepping out of the lavatory when he saw his door light flashing. "Come on in," he called out.

The door slid open and Spock stepped inside. McCoy smiled widely and walked up to him. There was a brief moment of awkwardness, as Spock stepped back, apparently unsure of the proper greeting. But McCoy just laughed gently and risked kissing the Vulcan on the lips.

Bones felt Spock putting his arms around him, tentatively at first, as if unsure of what this embrace should entail. But Bones felt no such uncertainty. He knew—with painful clarity—that he wanted Spock. That he wanted to hold Spock and to feel the heat of his body and to know the taste of his mouth and the scent of his glands and the feel of his muscles…and even the sound of his cold, logical voice.

Bones moved to deepen their kiss, and for a moment Spock responded, but then the Vulcan broke off from him. "Doctor," he said, his voice heavier than usual, "perhaps—perhaps we should see to our 'date.'"

McCoy took a step back and flashed him a rueful grin. "I believe you're trying to tell me to behave myself," he said. "Very well, Mr. Spock," he continued, pulling himself together in order to present a modicum of formality. "What do you have in mind?"

Spock placed his hands behind his back as he answered. "There is an old earth 'movie' being shown tonight in Recreation Room Six. It is considered a classic—and it is, Jim assures me, the pinnacle of romance—although I would have thought that humans would find the story…depressing."

"It's been a long time since I've seen an old-fashioned movie," Bones remarked, "Depressing or otherwise. What is it?"

"A version of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. It was filmed in 1968, by terran reckoning."

Bones grinned. "That play is depressing," he owned. "But it has its humor too; at least while Mercutio is alive. I've never seen that version; this ought to be interesting."

"And the mutual suicides of a pair of teenage lovers are romantic, Doctor?" Spock asked, cocking his head at him as if he could not quite believe it.

Bones laughed. "Well, that's not what makes it romantic," he assured Spock. "They were just a pair of kids who were in love and in lust with each other—so naturally they thought it'd be a good idea to get married the day after they met, despite their warring families."

"The characters, it would seem, did not exercise logic in their choice of a mate," Spock observed.

"On the contrary, the kids seemed to have done a good job selecting each other—it was their families that caused all the trouble," Bones retorted. "But let's not debate until we watch this version. We'll discuss it afterwards."

Spock nodded. "That will be satisfactory. I hope you will join me in my cabin for dinner after the film, Doctor. We can discuss our views then."

McCoy couldn't help but grin. "That'll be lovely," he assured the Vulcan. "Shall we?

Spock nodded and they stepped outside the room together. Bones didn't try to hold his hand—he doubted that Spock was ready for such a public display. So he contented himself instead with walking by the Vulcan's side while he puzzled out Jim's exact advice to Spock. Knowing Jim, he had probably told Spock to make sure they saw a performance first, so that they'd have something to talk about over dinner.

Bones smiled. It was a classic dating strategy—trust Jim to impart it to his Vulcan apprentice. He started to look forward to any surprises that might be in store over dinner.

~

Lt. Uhura took a deep breath as she stood outside Sulu's cabin. She thought back to her conversation with Spock and how sanguine the Vulcan had been at the possibility of McCoy's rejection. She tried to muster a bit of that objectivity.

She pushed the button on the door and waited. A moment later it slid open and Mr. Lee stood before her. He was dressed in the blue shirt of the science department now, she noted.

"Lieutenant," he said in some surprise. "May I help you? Are you looking for Mr. Sulu?"

"No, she answered, managing a smile. "I'm looking for you. May I come in?"

A concerned look crossed his face that Uhura had trouble interpreting. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Forgive me," he said, moving to the side. "Please come in."

She did so, but noted that he purposely left the door open. She smiled at that. "Are you afraid to have a private conversation with me?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, Lieutenant. I'm afraid of compromising your reputation."

Uhura's eyebrows shot up at that. She forced herself to bite back a startled laugh, lest she embarrass him. He seemed so much in earnest. But she managed a warm smile instead.

"I see," she said. "I suppose that a man and a woman who were not related to each other couldn't have a private conversation in your day," she said.

Lee nodded. "With few exceptions, no," he agreed. "I take it the etiquette has changed."

"It has—but you can keep the door open, if you'd like."

He smiled. "Then I shall do so. How may I serve you?"

She felt herself blushing. "I think I was wrong not to accept your apology. I asked Mr. Spock to allow me to be present during that…that…"

"Interrogation?" Lee supplied.

"Yes," she admitted. "Interrogation. I knew they were going to be hard on you—but I didn't know just how hard."

"Why did you wish to be present?" he asked, furrowing his brow at her.

She took a deep breath. "I was there in part to see to the recordings, in part to analyze your accent and patterns of speech—but also because I was curious. And, considering that, it's unfair for me to hold what you said against you—especially as you apologized. Can we start over?"

He smiled, looking relieved. "I'd be very glad to."

"Good," she said. "Then I'd like to ask you a favor."

"Anything that's in my power," he assured her, placing his hands behind his back.

"There's an old-fashioned 'movie' showing tonight in one of the rec-rooms," she explained. "Well, old-fashioned to us. A movie was a little like a play, except that it was recorded. It's Romeo and Juliet—and I would appreciate a friend to go with."

He seemed to hesitate at that, but this time Uhura guessed the problem. "It's quite public," she assured him. "You won't compromise me in the least—lots of friends go together."

He smiled again and nodded. "Then I will be happy to serve as your escort."

LINK TO PART FIFTEEN

Picture of the Day

Lovely pic from The Dark Knight that I found here.

Lawful Obedience, Part Thirteen

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fan Fiction (Star Trek)
Rating: PG-13

LINK TO PART ONE

~

Kirk met Spock, Bones and Lee in the conference room, but then he asked for a word with Spock outside. He turned to the Vulcan as soon as the doors slid shut behind him.

“I don’t know what you found out,” he said softly, “but, Spock, please make sure you present it as gently as you can. Try not to cause Lee any...any undue distress.”

Spock cocked his head at him. “Lee has proven quite capable of adjusting to new information and situations,” he pointed out.

“But this is different, Spock,” Kirk explained. “Remember that he doesn’t even know what a clone is—and, if he is one, he’s not going to be happy to find out about it. At the very least, that information will leave him with one hell of an identity crisis.”

Spock blinked. “But, Captain, if the yeoman has all of Robert E. Lee’s thoughts, memories, emotions and values—and a body that was developed from Robert E. Lee’s own DNA—then, logically, he is Robert E. Lee. I see no need for an ‘identity crisis.’”

Kirk smiled. “Spock, it’s not that simple. And you can’t expect even Lee to be entirely logical about it. Just go easy in there, please.”

The Vulcan narrowed his eyes for a moment, but then nodded. “I will do my best, Jim.”

“Thank you,” Kirk said. “All right, let’s go in.”

~

Spock took a deep breath before beginning. He was not accustomed to ‘going easy’ when it came to imparting information, but he meant to obey orders.

“Yeoman, the mind meld has proved to my satisfaction that you do, indeed, have all the memories of Robert E. Lee,” he began. “You are, in a very real sense, the sum of Lee’s experiences. As you may know, the DNA tests we have done so far have proved that you’re a member of the Lee family. I fully expect that we will soon be able to match your DNA to that of Robert E. Lee himself.”

He paused. Lee nodded at him while Dr. McCoy placed a hand on the yeoman’s shoulder. Kirk, meanwhile, leaned forward in his chair toward Spock.

“Moreover,” Spock continued, “I’ve been operating on the theory that someone ‘cloned’ Robert E. Lee’s body, Yeoman—that is, they duplicated it—and transferred, if you will, the general’s thoughts, memories, values and emotions into the new body. I am now certain that theory is correct.”

Lee looked stunned. “This—this body is a duplicate?” he asked, pinching his own arm.

McCoy nodded. “Cloning is a complicated—and very uncertain—procedure,” he explained. “But it is possible to create a duplicate of an organism, providing you have the original DNA.”

Lee swallowed. "And that explains why...why my...why this body is only thirty?"

"It's theoretically possible to create a clone of a specific age," the doctor confirmed.

“How do you think the ‘transference’ happened?” Kirk interjected, looking at Spock.

Spock shut his eyes for a moment. He knew that it was perfectly possible for a Vulcan to preserve his katra—what humans would call a soul—even beyond his own death. He was still uncertain, however, of how this could be achieved by a human. Particularly a human who did not consciously attempt to transfer his soul into the care of another.

The answer then, was that someone had forcibly taken his ‘katra’ from Lee and preserved it without his knowledge or permission. Spock would not have thought that possible—but then, he knew little about the human soul. Perhaps a powerful telepath could perform such a feat.

“I do not know, Captain,” Spock admitted as he opened his eyes. “I can, however, ‘go out on a limb.’”

Kirk nodded. “Please do.”

Spock furrowed his brow. “Yeoman,” he said, turning to Lee, “your subconscious mind remembers the slow death you suffered in the wake of your stroke. At a guess, you seem ultimately to have died from pneumonia—though you were in and out of consciousness during that ordeal.”

He paused, trying to keep his voice gentle. “However, you do remember the presence of a stranger. And you remember trying to warn your family of her presence there—and trying to warn them that she was touching your face and draining you, as you felt it. You were not successful in conveying this information to your family.”

“It was a woman?” Lee asked.

Spock nodded. “Yes—and humanoid, though not necessarily human.”

“How is it possible that my family didn’t see her?”

“I have no answer to that,” Spock said. “I can only reconstruct the events as you remember them.”

He paused again. “That same woman continues to appear in your memories of this century. She was in a medical lab with her hands touching your face—not unlike the position I would use to perform a mind-meld.”

“Was she a Vulcan?” McCoy interjected.

“It’s possible,” Spock admitted, “but I don’t believe so. She was, at any event, careful to keep her face behind a veil. She gave Mr. Lee no opportunity to form a clear picture of her—either in the 19th century or our own.”

He turned back to Lee. “I believe she achieved the ‘transference’ through telepathy. I’m theorizing that she is a powerful telepath herself—and that she made use of your own latent telepathic abilities to assist her. She also subjected you to a variety of hallucinogens—”

“Forgive me, sir,” Lee interrupted. “By hallucinogens you mean—”

“Drugs that cause hallucinations,” Kirk explained. He paused to cock his head at Lee. “Would you like to take a break, Yeoman? We don’t have to hear all this right now.”

Lee shook his head. “No thank you, sir. Please continue, Mr. Spock.”

“The woman and her assistants used the hallucinogens to recreate some of Lee’s experiences for you—to force you to relive aspects of Lee’s life. She also subjected you to diseases that Lee had experienced; you relived malaria, for example, while under her care.”

“Malaria?” Lee asked.

“You’d know that as ague or swamp fever, General,” McCoy put in.

Lee nodded and turned back to Spock. “How did I escape from her?”

“You didn’t,” Spock answered. “She ordered her assistants to abandon you in the wilderness around Octavian VII—presumably knowing that you’d be found by security there.”

Kirk narrowed his eyes at Spock. “But why?” he demanded. “Who would go to all that trouble in the first place? And, having gone through it, why would she just abandon her captive?”

“I have insufficient data at this time, Captain, to explain the woman’s motives.”

“There’s another problem,” McCoy added. “Are we dealing with a woman who has a lifespan of hundreds of years—or a woman who can travel in time?”

“I do not know the answer to that either, Doctor,” Spock responded.

There was a long moment of silence after that. At length McCoy broke it.

“Come on, General,” he said, patting Lee’s shoulder as he stood up. “As your doctor, I’m going to make sure that you get to your cabin and get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

“I’d like to ask Mr. Spock some more questions, sir,” Lee objected.

“They can wait,” McCoy insisted.

Lee sent a questioning glance to Kirk, but the captain shook his head. “Bones is right, Mr. Lee. Listen to your friendly-neighborhood country doctor.”

Lee managed a smile at that. “Very well, sir.” He stood up and followed McCoy out of the room.

Spock, meanwhile, turned back to Kirk. “I did my best to ‘go easy,’ Jim,” he said. “But I could not avoid the facts.”

Kirk smiled. “You did fine, Spock. Thank you.”

LINK TO PART FOURTEEN

Family Headaches

I haven't said anything about my favorite actor's arrest. I can't completely ignore it (though I'd like to) because it's so much in the news. But I will say that it sounds to me like a family argument.

Apparently there were heated words (and little else) between Christian Bale and his mother. At any event, when someone called the authorities, he cooperated with them. After questioning, he left with no charges against him, pending further inquiries in September.

He's asked for privacy in this matter--and I can't say I blame him. I'm just going to cross my fingers for Bale that all this dies down. He's done an excellent job of keeping himself out of the tabloids...and I'd hate to see that ruined by one family disagreement.

Picture of the Day

Hehe--can't argue that. You can find more of these lovely 'inspirational' posters here.

Lawful Obedience, Part Twelve

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fan Fiction (Star Trek)
Rating: PG-13

LINK TO PART ONE

~

"You want to meld with him?" McCoy demanded.

"That is what I said, Doctor," Mr. Spock returned evenly.

Lee shut his eyes for a moment. He was sitting on one of the sickbay bunks, following the conversation with considerable—and not surprising—interest. This was not the first time he had noticed that the first officer and the chief medical officer seemed to have a contentious relationship, although their bickering was clearly laced with affection.

When Lee opened his eyes, he realized that Dr. McCoy was cocking his head at him. "Did Mr. Spock explain what, exactly, a mind meld is, General?"

"He is a yeoman now, Doctor," Spock pointed out. "And I did not yet explain the process in detail."

"Well, now would be a good time," McCoy spat. "Tell the general everything, Mr. Spock—including the risks for both of you."

"I will endeavor to explain the situation to the yeoman, Doctor," Spock retorted.

"Am I to understand that you will be, ah, reading my mind, Mr. Spock?" Lee managed. That seemed incredible—but Heaven alone knew what sort of powers an alien would have.

"Essentially, yes," Mr. Spock explained. "For the duration of the meld, our minds will be linked. Even your subconscious memories should be attainable in that state."

"Subconscious?" Lee repeated.

"Memories that you can't consciously access, but which are nonetheless still there," Dr. McCoy explained.

Lee furrowed his brow, thinking not only of the mind meld, but of the changes to the English language. Even familiar words—like access—seemed to have changed in their usage.

"The mind meld," Spock continued, "is, of necessity, quite intimate. On Vulcan, we use it as part of the means of forming a permanent mental link—a bond—between marriage partners."

"By mental link, you mean the ability to read each other's thoughts?" Lee asked. "To know what the other is feeling?"

"Yes," Spock answered. "It may be difficult for you to imagine."

Lee smiled at that. "Not quite, Mr. Spock. My wife and I were married for decades. We knew how to read each other's thoughts. And we could often sense each other's feelings—and, on occasion, even complete each other's sentences. I don't think that's uncommon among human couples, although I'm sure you speak of something even deeper."

"I do," Spock confirmed. "I find your information intriguing, however—but perhaps not unexpected. Humans do possess various psionic abilities, including telepathy, although they are largely undeveloped. It is not surprising that two humans in a long term, intimate relationship would develop a bond, even if it is not as deep as the bond between a Vulcan and his mate."

"General," Dr. McCoy said suddenly, "Wouldn't you say that love is a necessary part of that bond between marriage partners?"

"Of course," he answered. "Love is a necessary ingredient in any marriage."

"In a human marriage, perhaps," Mr. Spock interjected. "On Vulcan, we recognize the role logic must play in selecting a bond-mate. What humans call 'falling in love' is not sufficient grounds for selecting the person with whom to share one's life."

"I agree with you as well, sir," Lee said. "We must exercise logic in selecting a mate. It is of utmost importance, for example, that a man and his wife agree on their values."

"And 'falling in love,' from what I have seen of it, does not ensure such shared values," Spock said.

Lee smiled. "No, Mr. Spock, it does not. However—" he paused, trying to think through his words. "However, shared values are not enough either. For a successful marriage, a couple must be willing to love each other."

Spock cocked his head at him. "Be willing, Mr. Lee? You speak as if 'falling in love' is a choice."

"I'm not speaking of 'falling in love' at the moment, Mr. Spock. Romantic feelings wax and wane over the course of a marriage," Lee explained.

He paused again, choosing his words with care. "Love is not solely an emotion; it is also an action. A man must choose, day by day, to be faithful to his spouse, to be considerate of her needs, to be open to her opinions and to be honest in his dealings with her. That is just as crucial to the success of a marriage as any romantic feelings."

A look passed between Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy that Lee could not quite interpret. Apparently they had a long-standing debate on the issue of marriage. Or perhaps they merely enjoyed arguing about their respective cultures.

"Forgive me, gentlemen," Lee continued. "But we seem to have strayed from the point. I take it, Mr. Spock, that you have no desire to form a marriage-bond with me?"

He had meant that as a joke, but Spock seemed to take it seriously. "No, I do not," the Vulcan assured Lee. "However, one of the risks of a mind meld is the possibility of creating a permanent link. I am quite skilled, so that should not be a concern. But if you fight me during the meld, Mr. Lee—if you attempt to shield your thoughts from me—you risk compromising my skill in this matter."

"There is another risk," Dr. McCoy added. "If anything goes wrong, one or both of you could go mad."

Spock nodded. "The doctor is correct. Madness is a rare result of a mind-meld, but a possible one nonetheless. A Vulcan healer may be able to cure the madness—that would depend on the situation. I can offer you no guarantees."

"But if all goes well—and if I don't fight you—the risk of madness is minimal, sir?" Lee asked.

"Quite minimal," Mr. Spock answered. "It is difficult to calculate the precise odds, however—"

"Never mind the odds," Dr. McCoy cut in. "General, what do you think?"

Lee sighed, mulling over all the information. "I wish to know how I came to be here—and why. If Mr. Spock is willing, I shall take him up on his obliging offer."

~

Spock sat quietly beside Lee. The mind meld was over and Spock was confident that he had withdrawn without leaving a permanent link behind. Nor had either party suffered madness. Nonetheless, Spock was surprisingly reluctant to walk away from the human. He knew the man intimately enough now to realize that, for this moment at least, Lee required his companionship.

And so Spock asked Dr. McCoy to give them privacy. McCoy had stared from one to the other, but at length he had nodded and quietly left.

"Mr. Lee," Spock began, "You do, indeed, have latent psionic abilities. You learned rather more about me through the mind meld than I had intended. You now know something of my tentative new relationship with Dr. McCoy. I understand that, in your era, an affair between two men would be considered a sin and a crime—while a marriage between them would be impossible. Will this affect your ability to work with either of us?"

Lee had been blushing furiously throughout that speech, Spock noted. He seemed acutely embarrassed.

"Mr. Spock," he managed. "It is not my place to stand in judgment of you or Dr. McCoy. Rest assured that nothing I have learned will change the high opinion I have of both of you."

Spock nodded. "Naturally, I learned a great deal about you as well. You—you enjoyed war, for example. Not the deaths, but the fighting, the tactics, the battles, the strategy—even the hardships and privations."

"Yes," Lee owned. "It is well, sir, that war is so terrible. Otherwise we would grow too fond of it." He paused and gave the Vulcan a wry smile. "Washington said, 'I have heard the bullets whistle and there is something charming in the sound.' I cannot imagine a general who would disagree."

Spock considered that and thought at once of Kirk. "Nor a captain," he mused.

Lee nodded. "Quite."

Spock shifted a bit so that he was facing the yeoman. "Mr. Lee, you did indeed have a permanent bond of some sort with another person. It was faint—but otherwise not unlike the ones that Vulcans form." He paused. "But that person was not your wife."

Lee said nothing.


"And you had no 'romantic' connection to the man—nor even strong emotional feelings for him," Spock continued. "I am not even certain that the two of you were friends."

Lee had been staring ahead impassively, but he smiled at that. "Jackson was a friend," he insisted. "And I—I suppose I understood, on some level, that there was a link between us. At the very least, I knew that, militarily speaking, he was my other half."

He paused and his smile grew deeper and more affectionate. "We both knew, instinctively, the capabilities of the other. I could make my objectives known to him, without giving him detailed orders, and trust him to take the measures he deemed necessary to achieve them. He did not fail me."

Spock considered that. Through Lee's memories, he now had a perfect image of 'Stonewall' Jackson in his head. And he understood something of the link between the two men. Given that link, one thing still bothered him.

"You did not visit Jackson when he lay dying from his wounds," he pointed out. "Yet it would not have been impossible for you to do so."

Lee took a deep breath. "I couldn't, Mr. Spock. I knew what his death meant. I knew what a blow it was to the Confederacy. And—and to myself." He paused to sigh. "Besides, I did not need to be at his deathbed to know his thoughts and wishes, nor to know the pain he was in. And he, of all people, understood that I had duties to perform."

He paused yet again and shut his eyes for a moment. "When Jackson died, Mr. Spock, I was only half a general. I could not win that war without him."

"I do not know that you could have won it with him," Spock said. "The North had overwhelming advantages."

"That's very true, sir. But no one ever accused the Confederacy of an excess of logic."

Spock raised his eyebrows at that. "And yet you, Mr. Lee, are a logical man. You are, moreover, a man who has always attempted to master his emotions. Therefore, I am going to take it upon myself to give you advice."

He paused, looking for the words that would convey his exact meaning to the human. "You have buried your anger at your father for abandoning his family, your guilt for some of the decisions you made during the war and the pain and humiliation of defeat."

He paused again and narrowed his eyes at Lee. "But to bury feelings, Yeoman, is not to master them. Those feelings are still very much a part of you and they may yet do you harm."

To Spock's surprise, Lee smiled. "I know, Mr. Spock. And I know that you have feelings that you have buried, but not mastered."

Spock nodded. "That is true—my own struggles are what prompted me to give you that advice."

Lee nodded back, seeming to understand that. "I don't know if true mastery is possible," he confided. "Perhaps it is for a Vulcan, but I doubt so for a human."

"And so you will cease to try?"

He furrowed his brow. "I believe in doing my utmost to be happy, Mr. Spock. And happiness is achieved by living in the world you inhabit, taking things as you find them and making the best of them. That is what I try to do with troublesome feelings such as anger and pain and guilt and humiliation. To some extent, I have simply learned to live with them."

Spock mulled that over, wondering if the day would come when he would abandon the quest for complete mastery of his emotions and settle for 'learning to live with them.'

One thing was certain, however. That day had not arrived yet.

Mr. Lee placed a hand on his arm. "Shall we tell the captain and doctor what you have learned about the time when my mind was drugged and clouded?"

"Yes," Spock agreed. "I'll arrange a conference at once."

Link to Part Thirteen

Clip of the Day

Ok...this scene from the end of Star Trek III--The Search For Spock always brings me to tears! It won't make much sense, unfortunately, if you haven't seen the films. You see, Spock died, but Bones is carrying his Katra...er, never mind. But it is a great scene!

Lawful Obedience, Part Eleven

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fan Fiction (Star Trek)
Rating: PG-13

LINK TO PART ONE

~


Kirk strode into sickbay the next morning. "Hey Bones," he said, taking a seat at the doctor's desk. "What the heck did you do to convince Spock to shorten your confinement?"

Bones grinned at him as he leaned up against the wall. "A gentleman never tells," he said with a wink.

Kirk grinned back. "It's true then? You're just as interested in Spock as he is in you?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. "What can I say, Jim-boy?" he said. "There's something about those pointed ears…"

"Well, whatever you two got up to last night, it embarrassed the hell out of our friend," Kirk informed him. "When I talked to him this morning, he was practically blushing up to the tips of those ears. I almost fell over—I didn't know a Vulcan could blush."

"His human half is probably getting the better of him," Bones opined. "And, for your information, it happened this morning, not last night."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Let's just say I introduced him to an alternate form of punishment—of the good old fashioned Southern persuasion. And damned if he didn't enjoy it."

Kirk laughed as he held up his hand. "All right, that's enough information." There were going to be some things, he realized, that he didn't need to know about his friends' relationship.

"Unfortunately we didn't get any farther than that punishment," Bones confided. "I intend to remedy that tonight—and to hell with the three-date-rule."

"Oh, I already explained to Spock that the three-date rule doesn't apply between two men."

Bones rolled his eyes. "I think you’re wrong—but I suppose I should thank you anyway,” he said with another grin. "And I understand I have you to thank for whatever date that green-blooded sadist has in mind for tonight."

Kirk nodded. "If he follows my instructions, it'll be a first date to remember."

McCoy narrowed his eyes at him. "You didn't introduce him to those sex manuals we found over at—"

"Bones!" Kirk interrupted, feigning shock. "Of course not. That would be thoroughly inappropriate—at least for a first date. According to Spock, you wanted romance. I'm just making sure you get it."

"But what is he planning—"

"It's a surprise, Bones," Kirk insisted. "Don't worry; you'll find out. Now, forget that for a moment. I want to talk to you about Lee. I don't suppose you'd, ah, care to sit down?"

"Thank you, I'll pass," McCoy said dryly.

Kirk grinned but didn't press the matter. "Lee accepted my offer to make him a provisional yeoman," he began. "He should be reporting to Spock as we speak."

"Good," Bones said. "I don't know if Spock told you, but it seems that Robert E. Lee's remains have been violated on a couple of occasions in the past. It is possible that someone could have gotten their hands on his DNA."

"Can we get our hands on it?"

Bones nodded. "Yeah—after I cut through yards and yards of red tape. It's going to take a while. But Jim, what happens if Spock is right? If this really is a clone with Robert E. Lee's soul—well, what do we do with that information? The man will have no privacy if this gets out."

"Well, he'll be aboard the Enterprise for the remainder of our mission. Hopefully by the time he goes to the Academy, things will have settled down."

"Any chance we can keep the information quiet?"

Kirk sighed. "I don't know. I'm registering him under Robert Lee—but I suppose that's a common enough name. But I am going to have to come up with some explanation for him—and for the fact that I'm diverting the Enterprise to Octavian VII."

The doctor frowned. "We need explanations for any number of things. And I'm still not satisfied with Spock's theory. It probably doesn't account for why I found traces of smallpox and malaria in Lee's blood—and Spock still won't tell us how he thinks Lee's thoughts, memories and values were transferred."

"Well, Spock seems to have a theory about the 'soul,'" Kirk commented. "But what did he say about the smallpox and malaria?"

"He won't say—not until we can match our new yeoman's DNA to Robert E. Lee's."

Kirk let out another deep breath. "Curioser and curioser," he said. "Well, let's just focus on matching up the DNA and then we'll go from there." He paused and stood up. "Meanwhile, Bones," he added with a wink, "make sure you pretty yourself up for you date tonight."

~

Lee reported to Mr. Spock precisely on schedule. It was his first view of the bridge, but he did his best not to stare at everyone and everything. He couldn't help but notice Lt. Uhura, however. She noticed him as well, but quickly turned back to her work.

"I see you are prompt, Yeoman," Mr. Spock said as Lee walked up the first officer.

"Yes, sir," Lee returned.

"Follow me, please," Spock continued. "We shall see to your uniform and training schedule."

Lee nodded and followed the Vulcan off the bridge and back on to the turbo lift. At length Spock led him into a long room with humanoid targets on the opposite wall.

"I'm going to show you how to use this phaser," Spock began, as he took his own weapon out and handed it to Lee. Soon he was detailing the different settings and making certain that Lee understood how to use each one.

At length Spock seemed satisfied that Lee could be trusted to handle the weapon. "I want you to shoot to kill the first target, Yeoman," he ordered. "Stun the second. Begin now."

The words were scarcely out of his mouth before Lee began firing. His first blast, on lethal power, struck the dummy on the right full in the chest and disintegrated it. He switched to stunning force with a quick flick of his fingers and struck the second dummy in the same location.

Spock cocked his head at Lee's results. "We will not need to waste much time improving your speed or your accuracy," he commented. "Can you kill without remorse?"

"No, sir," Lee answered. "But I can kill."

Spock nodded approvingly. "And I take it you are comfortable with the phaser?"

Lee risked a smile at that. "I grew up with muzzle loading weapons," he reminded Spock as he handed the weapon back. "This phaser is something of a dream come true. It handles beautifully; I never dared hope for a gun as simple and accurate as this. I do hope, however, that our first choice is to stun."

"Under the majority of circumstances it is," Spock assured him, putting the weapon back at his side. "What is your experience in melee combat?"

"I can fence and box somewhat, sir."

Spock nodded. "I will sign you up for lessons in Krav Maga," he said.

"Krav Maga?"

"That is Hebrew for "close combat," the Vulcan explained. "It was first put into wide use to train Israeli Defense Forces."

"Israeli, sir?" Lee repeated. "Do you mean Jewish?"

"Israel resurfaced as a nation in the wake of the Second World War," Spock answered. "It had, for a time, a somewhat perilous existence, which no doubt explains how it mastered such an effective—if extreme—form of close-quarters fighting. You'll begin your training tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." He was tempted to ask why a future science officer would require so much combat training, but decided to keep his peace.

"Before we continue to your science studies," Spock said, folding his hands behind his back, "I should like to speak to you about your origins."

He paused, giving Lee the impression that he was choosing his words with care. "I have a theory about how you came to our century, Mr. Lee," he said at last. "It may or may not prove true. However, I believe your own memories can serve us in this matter."

"But I have no memories, sir," Lee objected. "I don't remember anything from the time my family helped me to my bed until the day security forces took me in custody on Octavian VII. Well, nothing but a drugged fog of pain."

"Nonetheless, Yeoman, it is likely that the memories are there and that they can be retrieved—with my help."

Lee stared at him. "Sir, I…" he let his voice trail off.

"This must be your decision," Spock told him. "And there are certain risks involved. It will, at the very least, be an invasion of your privacy. And we will, of course, need Dr. McCoy's approval and supervision."

Lee swallowed. "If Dr. McCoy gives his approval, sir, I will cooperate."

"Very well, Yeoman. Let us speak to the doctor at once."

LINK TO PART TWELVE