59

"I've done all I can, Jim," McCoy said, as he switched off the vibrating instrument in his hands. "He'll have to manage on his own now. Shouldn't take more than two or three days."
"What?" said Spock.
McCoy sighed and raised his voice. "TWO OR THREE DAYS," he repeated loudly, to Spock's apparent bemusement.
The Vulcan frowned, "I understood you had finished with the rays," he croaked.
"Oh, give me strength! Not RAYS, Spock, DAYS. It'll take a few DAYS."

Kirk felt fever-hot fingers brush his face and settle into the familiar places, seeking the gateway of the inner mind. Thrust of mind mirroring the thrust of flesh, and a distant awareness marveled at how right it seemed that this new joining of their bodies should so intensify the familiar uniting of their minds. A voice, familiar and beloved, whispering ancient words. Taste\sense\touch of pressure\not-pressure as Spock created the link across which their souls would meet. Overwhelmed, his eyes closed. And opened, to a world contained only in the minds of the men whose bodies still moved on the bed.

What a specimen of a man, thought the Ricord Ambassador as she beamed aboard the Enterprise and then stepped off the transporter pad. Her dark translucent eyes remained riveted on the exquisite face of the alien male. She dismissively acknowledged the greeting from the one who had introduced himself as Captain James Kirk. She was more attracted to the dark ones, such as the magnificent Vulcan before her. In fact he distracted her from all the rest.

“...have had quite enough, Jim! I want a DIVORCE!”
The too-loud, adamant demand put a sudden stop to the conversations at the surrounding tables. Concentric circles of quiet quickly halted all activity in the recreation room and all eyes focused on the two bristling men who seemed oblivious to their shocked, staring crew mates. Such angry, personal confrontations were almost unheard of! And in public, too.
“You want it? You've got it!” Jim glared around at the gawking crew and scowled a warning. The first smart-mouth to interject a comment would get a fist upside his head.

Jim is once again lying close to death. I sit by his side. I watch and I wait. My attempts to divert the memories prove unsuccessful. I am inundated by visions: preeminently, the instant the Hron female threw him against the boulders. The sound rattled through my soul.
Even as I leveled my phaser at her, I knew my reaction time would be a heartbeat short. I was correct. Jim was unconscious when I reached his side. I beamed him directly to sickbay and now the doctor and fickle fate are in control of his destiny. And in control of mine.

“I had a dream last night, Spock.”
The Vulcan pulled a towel free from the rack, straightened his gym shorts and turned to consider his friend.
“You sound puzzled....yet gratified, Jim. Your dream must have been...pleasant.” His shoulder shrugged in question.
“In a way.” Kirk glanced down at his feet, flushing slightly. “It involved you.”

I watched him last night, mother, standing on his balcony, face blistered by the bay wind. And I was reminded of when I first saw him, got to know him. He was all warmth, charm and efficiency. A conundrum conflicting with what I felt pouring off of him. James Kirk, a human, a man, a Captain and soon to be my friend. Fascinating beyond belief. Attractive as a Vulcan child to its first Shelat cub.

The universe exploded. Lights shattered, sound ricocheted off rent metal, objects smashed into bulkheads. Generally, all hell broke loose.
“Medical emergency—Science Lab Two!”
And there came over the com a scream, a deep baritone he recognized instantly.
James Kirk's universe imploded.
Out of his chair in that instant, he snapped, “Get McCoy down there.”

He sat alone, staring out of the darkened room. But it wasn't into the deeper blackness of space that he was looking but at the shining, silver ship that hovered in space dock. His ship. His command. His life. Even with the minor damage to her hull, testaments of battles fought, the Enterprise was beautiful, a majestic sight he couldn't get enough of.
Unfortunately ....

Covers: Shelley Butler

Art - Ms. Muller & Ms. Liz

Poetry by: Benjamin, Hood, Reiger

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