58

Spock strode into Medical Lab 3, directly to the only occupied station. McCoy's face was buried in a viewer, obviously captivated by the data therein. Spock waited for only a moment--he planned to freshen-up before meeting the Captain for dinner. "You summoned me, Doctor McCoy?"

Startled, McCoy jumped, and bit his tongue to stop his usual vulgar complaint. But dad-blasted, Spock was as quiet as a tomcat licking his balls. McCoy rubbed his tired eyes and indicated the newest comparative scanner. "I wanted you to see this."

Vulcans were martyrs to their feet.

By some strange evolutionary quirk as yet unexplained by even the greatest of scientific minds, centuries of trudging across sun blasted sands had not hardened Vulcan feet but made them embarrassingly, and at times unbearably, tender. Of course, this was a closely guarded secret. For it to be generally known that a healthy mind in a healthy body (so long the Vulcan ideal) was undermined by such a prosaic defect was rather too much for Eridanii sensibility.

Rereading the stargram didn't change a thing. The words would blur and then come back into focus but inevitably remain the same. His mother was dead. Kirk finally turned off his terminal, leaned back and closed his eyes.

The day began in a perfectly innocent manner; a routine day like any other, or at least as routine as a day ever can be on a Starship. There was certainly nothing in the way it started to indicate the momentous events to come. Of that Spock was quite sure, if only because, for a time, it was one of the few things he was sure about…

Everything was the same as it had been for the last year. The bed was there, the wider model Fleet now finally provided for officers having their own private cabin, covered with Standard issue sheets and blanket, looking strictly military except for the richly embroidered quilt resting at the bottom. One wall was decorated with ancient Vulcan weapons and another with Earth antiques. A lyre was tucked securely in a corner; a few personal items adorned the dresser. No change at all.

Except that the occupant of this cabin would never be here again, to play that lyre or sleep upon this bed.

With Nomad destroyed, things should have returned to normal.

They hadn't.

Spock took the last taped orders from the captain's safe and inserted the small yellow disk in the computer. The voice and form of James Kirk on the view screen effectively stopped the bitter argument between McCoy and himself from escalating even further.

Covers: I. M. Muller

Art - Injella, Mills & Muller

Poetry by: Benjamin & Hood

Available from: Merry Men Press
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