Lawful Obedience, Part Twenty-One

by J. Rosemary Moss

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

LINK TO PART ONE

~

Spock walked into sickbay with a vague sense of trepidation. Dr. McCoy was leaning against a medical table and Mr. Lee was sitting on one of the bunks. The yeoman stood up respectfully at the sight of the Vulcan. He did not appear ill, but—unless Spock was mistaken—he did appear troubled.

"At ease, Yeoman," Spock said. Then he turned to the doctor.

McCoy's features were amiable enough, but his blue eyes were flashing in a way that served as a warning to Spock. The doctor was not yet angry, but he was willing to become so. In fact, he was eager to pick a fight.

Spock sighed. McCoy, as the terran expression went, 'had his Irish up'—although this mood seemed to apply to many humans, not just those of Irish extraction. Such a mood, in Spock's opinion, was one of McCoy's less admirable qualities.

"Doctor?" Spock asked, walking up to Bones as he nodded at Lee to join them at the table. Lee obligingly moved forward.

"Spock," Bones answered, "I suspect that something might have gone wrong when you subjected the general to that mind-meld of yours."

Spock raised his eyebrows at that, but decided that it was not worthwhile to quibble with McCoy's choice of terms. Lee was no longer a general. Nor had Spock 'subjected' him to the meld—on the contrary, Lee had been a willing participant.

"Indeed, Doctor?" Spock managed. "What are the yeoman's symptoms?"

"A greatly improved memory—not your total recall, but damn close—and a sudden fluency in Hebrew," McCoy answered. "Not to mention scientific knowledge he has no business knowing yet."

Spock cocked his head at the yeoman. "Interesting," he said.

McCoy took a deep breath, clearly making one last effort to keep his temper in check. "Interesting, Spock?" he demanded. "That's all? Not even 'fascinating?'"

The first officer shook his head. "No, Doctor, for it is not entirely unexpected. I do not believe these effects are either harmful or permanent."

"But they are the results of your mind meld?" McCoy persisted.

"Perhaps—but perhaps not," Spock informed him. "If they are, it is only indirectly; I assure you."

He paused and turned to Lee. "As I've mentioned, your telepathic potential is on the high end of the scale for your species," he explained. "That is why you were able to form what was essentially a proto-telepathic bond with men such as Jackson and, to a lesser extent, certain members of your family—and the various animals under your care, including, if I remember their names correctly, your dog Spec and your horse Traveller."

Lee cocked his head at that. "And that—that, ah, 'telepathic potential' has caused these…improvements in my learning?"

"Not entirely," Spock owned. He paused again, remembering the captain's orders to 'go easy' on Lee when discussing his past. "Yeoman, I still believe that the woman who is responsible for transferring your thoughts and memories into your current body must be a powerful telepath. Furthermore, I believe she made use of your own latent psionic abilities during the transfer. It is likely that she deliberately amplified your abilities in order to complete the process. The results of that amplification are probably not permanent, but they have caused these effects."

Lee stood rigidly at that, apparently attempting to control a surge of emotion—most likely anger. He must have succeeded, for his voice was calm when he finally spoke.

"I see," he said at last. "Although I suppose that's not entirely true, as I have only a vague idea of your meaning, sir. But I take it that this…this woman not only tore my thoughts and memories from me in order to transfer them, but also toyed with my—with my 'psionic' faculties in the process?"

"That is correct, Yeoman," Spock confirmed. He did not add how much the woman had risked by that—she could easily have driven him insane. But Lee seemed to have guessed that on his own.

At any event, Lee managed a nod, but then fell quiet. Spock could see that he was still struggling to keep his emotions under control.

McCoy, meanwhile, was regarding Lee with concern. But at length he turned back to Spock—although his eyes, Spock noted, were no longer flashing.

"Where'd the general get this improved memory and this new knowledge from?" he asked. "From you, Spock, or from her?"

"That is an intriguing question, Doctor," Spock answered. "And one I am not, at present, able to answer. Due to his telepathic abilities, Mr. Lee did access some of my thoughts and memories at the beginning of our mind-meld. Once I realized his capabilities, I protected myself from further intrusions—however unintentional—on his part. But it is possible that some of my knowledge 'bled' into him."

He paused as the doctor mulled that over.

"However," he continued, "it is equally possible that these are the result of the transfer. In either case, I do not believe the knowledge or the improved memory will last…not without willful study on his part."

He paused again and turned back to Lee. "I am afraid, Yeoman, that you will still need to apply yourself to your studies."

Lee favored him with the ghost of a smile. "I did not intend otherwise, Mr. Spock. And I thank you and Dr. McCoy, once again, for your assistance." He paused and turned back to Bones. "With your permission, Doctor, I'll return to my duties."

Bones nodded. "Granted, General."

Lee picked up the book he had brought in, nodded back and then strode out of sickbay.

Dr. McCoy stared after him. "God knows he has every right to be angry at that woman," he commented. "I wish he'd allow himself to lose his temper."

"Indeed, Doctor?" Spock asked. "I, for one, find it refreshing to be in the company of a human who exercises restraint when it comes to his emotions."

The doctor snorted at that. "Well, there's a fancy medical term for someone exercising that kind of rigid restraint," McCoy informed him.

Spock cocked his head at him. "And that term is?"

"Control freak," McCoy answered, crossing his arms over his chest.

The Vulcan almost smiled at that, but recovered. "Nonetheless," he said pointedly, "it may be preferable to exercise some restraint—as opposed to leaping to conclusions and searching for a fight."

Bones narrowed his eyes at him, almost glaring at him, but then he had the decency to blush. He even managed a grin. "You're right," he acknowledged, dropping his arms as he leaned against the table. "I was convinced that this was all your fault—and I was itching to get into a fight with you about it. You know how I feel about these damn mind-melds."

"You don't trust me, Doctor?"

"Oh, I do," Bones assured him. "It's just—well, the human mind is tough as nails in some respects and more fragile than glass in others." He paused and shrugged. "But what do I know? I'm just a plain country doctor."

Acting on impulse—a fact that he would chide himself for later—Spock reached out and took McCoy's hand. "I only use a mind meld in exceptional circumstances," he reminded the human, "and only with the utmost respect for both the resilience and the fragility of the mind…any mind, Doctor."

McCoy's face softened. He nodded and pulled Spock to him. "I know," he said as drew the Vulcan into a kiss.

Spock knew he should resist. Both men were, after all, on duty. But it was difficult to see the harm that this brief, casual intimacy could render.

McCoy ended the kiss quickly enough, but the two men stood there for nearly a full minute. Spock's hands were resting on the doctor's shoulders and the doctor had his arms around Spock's waist. And both men were content simply to look into the other's eyes.

Spock's logical brain, which should have warned him to break such a public embrace, was strangely quiet. Even if they were bonded, it would not be appropriate to behave in such a way in public. Vulcan bond-mates permitted themselves only a brief, ritualized touch of the fingers when outside the privacy of their home.

And yet there was something to be said for this casual human intimacy, even in sickbay.

Spock paid the price for that, however, when two blue-shirted medical technicians walked in the room.

McCoy grinned and released Spock—but the damage had been done. Spock felt himself begin to flush as the technicians stammered their excuses and left the room.

"They know," he said, staring after them. "They know, Doctor, that you and I are…involved."

Bones put a hand on his shoulder. "People were going to figure it out, Spock. You told Uhura yourself, remember? You told Jim too."

"That was different," Spock returned. "They are our friends. They will keep the matter quiet until…until circumstances permit us to show our regard for each other openly."

McCoy raised his eyebrows at that, but he was still grinning. "Our regard for each other?" he asked. "I suppose that's one way of putting it. Does it really bother you, Spock, that people will know?"

Spock took a deep breath. "I would have preferred to be free of my entanglements first."

McCoy considered that. "I suppose you have a point. Personally, I can't wait till you find a way to break things off with T'Pring." He sighed and let his hand drop. "You still haven't told me much about this, Spock. There must be some way to break a betrothal—some way that will allow you both to save face, I mean."

Spock furrowed his brow. "I do not believe that either my face or T'Pring's is in any danger, Doctor."

Bones rolled his eyes. "Some way to break it off respectably, I mean. Some way that won't make you a pariah on Vulcan."

He paused and leaned back against the table as his face grew thoughtful. "Back in the general's day, a gentleman couldn't respectably break an engagement…but a lady could. As long as she was the one to cry off, neither of them would be ostracized."

Spock sighed. "That is not helpful, Doctor. The only way for T'Pring to 'cry-off' would be by demanding an ancient ritual. She would select a champion—and I would fight that champion to the death for the privilege of possessing her."

McCoy stared at him. "You're joking!"

"I do not joke," Spock reminded him.

"But—but that's barbaric!" the human sputtered.

"I agree," Spock said calmly. "It is a remnant from the time before Surak. Nonetheless, Doctor, there are reasons we have retained this ritual…reasons which I do not wish to discuss at present."

"Well, we're going to have to discuss it soon!" McCoy snapped. "What in hell is wrong with you people?"

Spock struggled to keep his voice even. "Doctor, you must not disclose what I have just revealed to you. We keep this matter quite secret on Vulcan. And let me assure you, that the ritual I have just described is rarely invoked—for obvious reasons. To the best of my knowledge, no Vulcan female has invoked it in my lifetime or my parents."

"Well, that's a relief," McCoy managed. "But is that the only…the only respectable way for a female to break a betrothal?"

"As far as I know, yes."

McCoy bit his lip as he shook his head at the Vulcan. "Well, that's clearly not an option." He sighed and put his hand back on Spock's shoulder. "Let's hope your Mama has a better idea."

LINK TO PART TWENTY-TWO