Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of Viacom, Inc. and Paramount, Inc. I wrote this story purely for fun and have received no monetary benefit from it.

Chapter Six

Spock pulled out his phaser as the alien materialized on the transporter pad. It was a lifeform he had never encountered before. About 2.5 meters tall, it appeared to be reptilian, something like a giant, upright lizard. That did not bode well. In the Vulcan's experience, reptilian lifeforms were cold-blooded in every sense of the term.

Spock introduced himself while security checked the creature for weapons. The creature would only respond with name, rank, and serial number. He was Commander Skrull, a Ropilian. Spock escorted the green-gold being to the brig. There was too much confusion on board and too many wounded crew to have to worry about keeping a close watch on their visitor.

The confusion was in Spock's mind as well, a fact he found most disturbing. The mindmeld with the doctor had established an immediate and unusually strong bond. They were both scientists at heart, and their minds fit together easily, but the Vulcan had not been prepared for the flood of emotions that engulfed him as soon as they were connected. It was like being thrown into the ocean during a storm. But there was something else as well. When his mind had touched hers he suddenly had a vivid memory from his school days. He could not have been more than six. The children had been taunting him again for his slowness in calculus class, for his humanness. Usually he ignored them, but for some reason he couldn't that day, and he went home crying. His mother had immediately gathered him into her arms, without judgment or question. She just held him close and said, "I love you for everything you are, Spock. And I will always love you no matter what path you choose." He had not remembered that until today, but something in the memory made him feel drawn to Claire. There was something he needed from her.

But as soon as she dematerialized he lost the connection. He had felt a few small waves of something that might have been fear or perhaps anger, but it was not clear where they were coming from. It appeared that the mindmeld did not work and he would have to trust the Ropilians to be honorable. Trust did not come easily to him.

Before returning to the bridge, he stopped in sickbay. Christine and a physician's assistant were performing surgery on the Captain. Medical personnel were rushing around treating the other casualties. Two crewmen had died. One of the nurses stopped long enough to tell him the Captain was expected to be fine.

He entered the turbolift and leaned against the wall where Claire had stood ten minutes earlier. He closed his eyes. ROMULAN suddenly flashed in his mind. Claire, is that you?

…Romulan officer here…

Spock reached out but could not get any more. Deeply troubled, he strode onto the bridge and attempted to make sense of the havoc there. Uhura was wielding a soldering iron, repairing her main board. Two engineers were working on the engine control panel, talking to Mr. Scott over the intercom. Everyone else was cleaning up debris. A Yeoman scrubbed at the floor next to the Captain's chair. Spock's heart lurched in his side. What was the matter with him? He took a deep breath and pulled himself together.

"Status, Mr. Sulu."

"Their shields are back up, sir. No signs of phaser build-up. Our shields have been restored to 50%."

"Mr. Chekov, attempt to calculate the alien vessel's flight path. I want to know where it came from." Spock went to his science station and started conducting the scans there had not been time to complete earlier. If this was a Romulan vessel, that would complicate the situation.

Chekov looked over at him. "Sir? The wessel's flight path indicates it arrived from somewhere in the Romulan neutral zone."

Spock nodded grimly and pressed the intercom switch. "Mr. Scott. We may be dealing with a Romulan vessel. We need full shields and impulse engines as soon as possible."

He returned to the captain's chair and raised his hand to his temple. He tried to shut out the emotions that were buffeting him on all sides, being generated by the others on the bridge. Was this what it was like to be empathic? It was horrible. He reached out with his mind and started to see a hazy image, a pool of blue fluid on a green-gold background. It was blood on a wounded alien. Claire was suturing it. Doctor.

Spock?

What is happening there? Are there Romulans?

Many wounded. One Romulan officer.

You must leave immediately. We may need to destroy the ship.

No! They are peaceful. The Romulans have misled them.

What do you mean?

The Romulans use them for battle. Told them not to trust the Federation. Told them only way to get help was to fire on Enterprise.

How long will it take to treat them?

Half an hour more.

Will they release you when you are finished?

Yes, but-

Spock sensed a violent push and the communication was cut off.

"Ow!" Claire yelped as she was pushed into the wall.

"Who are you in communication with?" the Romulan officer demanded.

"Nobody! I'm trying to suture this wound. You made me burn his skin!"

"You're lying! I heard you talking to someone," Lavinia said. "Or did you not realize that Romulans have telepathic powers?"

"I don't know anything about that. I'm just trying to help out here." Claire shielded her mind as well as she could and tried to look stupid.

The statuesque officer raised her finely arched eyebrows and stalked out. Claire turned back to her patient. She'd lost count of how many wounded she had seen so far. When she'd first arrived the Ropilians had frisked her. They swiftly removed her communicator and the transponder Spock had injected into her arm. Then they hustled her to the bridge, where the worst damage appeared to be. The Captain had needed his arm set and he refused to go to the ship's medical suite. Fortunately, it was an easy wound to treat for a doctor totally unfamiliar with the physiology of these beings. It was on the bridge that she'd met Lavinia.

It quickly became clear that she was the source of the intense fear and suspicion emanating from the Ropilians. They were not naturally hostile or aggressive beings. On the contrary, as cold-blooded creatures they were usually slow-moving, given to long periods of pondering as they sat on their warmed chairs. They thought carefully before taking action. But the Romulan seemed to have convinced them that the Federation was not to be trusted and was bent on enslaving all alien races. Claire looked at Lavinia's delicately pointed ears and upswept brows and wondered if the rumors about Vulcan-Romulan ancestry were true. It was hard to imagine this one having the same DNA as Spock.

Claire finished her suturing and moved on to a broken leg. She was in the medical suite now, which was crowded with wounded crewmembers and too few nurses. Their doctor had been killed in whatever battle they had recently been in. Claire had convinced them to let her download physiology files from the computer onto her scanner so she could do her work. They resisted until she reminded them it would be a bad idea to treat internal injuries without knowing where the internal organs actually were.

She worked as fast as she could. Something was wrong with the ship. Everyone on the bridge was rushing around, muttering about fuel rods and looking worried. She had heard someone mention evacuation. If only she could reach Spock! It might be necessary to evacuate the Ropilians onto the Enterprise.

"Sir, I'm picking up funny energy readings from the alien wessel," Chekov said.

"Please be more precise, Ensign," Spock said.

"Fluctuations in what I think is their engine core."

Spock went to his scanner. "Lieutenant Uhura, I need communication with the Thessalon now."

Uhura turned to her newly repaired board and started punching buttons. She did the same with the backup board. "There's no response," she said.

Spock hailed Engineering. "Mr. Scott, readings indicate an instability in the Thessalon's reactor core. We may need to evacuate the ship."

"They'll have to lower their shields. I can't transport them through that heavy shielding they've got. I can't even lock onto individuals."

"Understood. We have not been able to contact them. Is there a way we can lower their shields remotely?"

"Remotely? I suppose, if we could generate just the right energy wave it might interfere with their shields, but it could take hours to do the calculations!"

"Start making the calculations. I will join you momentarily."

Spock handed over the conn and left the bridge. His first stop was the brig. "Commander Skrull, your ship appears to be in trouble. We have lost contact with them. I need any information you can give me on the shields so that we can lower them and evacuate your shipmates."

"Skrull. Commander. 78934621."

"Your ship may be having a reactor meltdown. Everyone on board will die."

"Skrull. Commander. 78934621."

Spock tried to read Skrull's thoughts, but his mind was too alien. A mindmeld might work, but it would jeopardize the connection he had with the doctor, making it difficult to locate her. If he even had that connection anymore. He struck out at the metal-reinforced wall, leaving a large dent in it, before he left for Engineering.

Scott greeted him with a groan. "These calculations are going to take hours, Mr. Spock! They'll have blown up by then!"

"Let me see what you have so far." Spock looked at the numbers scrolling down the computer monitor. They swam in front of his eyes, meaningless pixels.

"Can't Claire try to get on the bridge and lower the shields herself?" Scotty asked.

"We have lost contact with her. They must have taken her communicator."

"Well, if I can get a lock on her location, I can try to beam her through the shield. Those calculations would take less time than these."

"Negative. Her transponder is not transmitting. It has likely been removed and destroyed."

Scotty sighed.

"Excuse me a moment, Mr. Scott." Spock turned away and faced the wall while Scott returned to the computer. The Vulcan steepled his fingers and closed his eyes. 48 seconds later, he rejoined Scott and started pressing buttons, fast and then faster until his fingers were a blur. Equations filled the screen.

Mr. Scott knew better than to interfere. He went to another station and monitored the activity on the Thessalon. The instability was becoming severe. He decided not to tell Mr. Spock just yet. There might be thirty minutes left. Perhaps the Vulcan would perform a miracle and calculate the wave function before then.

Claire ran down the corridor, hoping she was going in the right direction. People were running in all directions around her, but most seemed to be going this way. Explosions rocked the ship every few minutes as systems failed. The Ropilians were preparing to evacuate by shuttle. Claire had pleaded with them to contact the Enterprise, but the fragile trust they had built up had disintegrated again. Half of them were convinced the Enterprise was firing on them. The other half thought their ship had been sabotaged. Claire was lucky they hadn't turned on her. They made it clear they weren't going to make space for her on the shuttles, but she followed them anyway in hopes of changing their minds. There were still a few unstable patients. They could use her.

Now that they were distracted she called out for Spock.

Doctor…status?

Ship's falling apart! I'll try to evacuate with the others!

If you can….to bridge. Try to….shields.

I'll try!

Claire stopped and tried to remember how to get to the bridge. She turned and headed back to the hospital. It would be easier from there. She passed back through the large cargo area. Suddenly there was a loud "Boom!" and a violent blast of hot air. She crashed into a towering stack of silver containers.

She opened her eyes and tried to figure out where she was. A half-lit room somewhere, not familiar, debris all around her. Lights were flickering. She tried to move and cried out. She was held fast by a massive silver box. The Thessalon. Right. It was quieter now, fewer voices yelling. She must have been out for several minutes. Where had she been going? Spock told her to go…..Spock…..she reached out to him with all her might. Nothing. She sensed that the connection was lost.

She reached over with her free arm and tried to move the container. No. It had to weigh at least 80 pounds and she had no leverage. Not to mention, there were several other containers leaning precariously on it. Just to add to the fun, she was fairly certain her shoulder was dislocated. The waves of pain made her sick to her stomach.

She laid back and listened to the sounds of the dying ship around her. There was still hope. Scotty pulled off miracles for Kirk all the time. In some ways, though, it might be better not to be saved. Her secret was out. Spock would no doubt be obligated to report on her capacities, and the Federation would take over. They would reassign her to either espionage or psychological work, as they had her mother and sister. Empathic ability was so rare, none could be wasted. Her mother had been sucked dry by a lifetime of this work, and her sister was following closely behind. There were rumors of a race of empaths somewhere in the galaxy. Perhaps if they were discovered the pressure would be off. In the meantime, Claire hid her so-called gifts.

No! She had to fight for her life, whatever kind of life it ended up being. She shoved again at the container. She called out for help.

Footsteps. Someone was running in boots. Federation boots, not the soft-soled shoes the Ropilians wore.

"Doctor!"

"Oh, Spock, thank God! Get this damn container off me, will you?"

"Wait, Doctor. Stop pushing on it or the stack will fall." Spock began shifting containers. His blue shirt was rumpled and had scorch marks on it. Claire had never seen such a beautiful sight.

"Can Scotty beam us back?"

"Yes, but it would be significantly safer if your arm were released first."

The ship suddenly jerked and the massive containers toppled over. Spock threw himself down over Claire. She felt his body shudder as the metal cubes rained down around them. At last there was quiet and Spock shifted his weight tentatively. The stack held. He had enough room to slide off of her.

"Are you hurt?" his voice rumbled beside her in the darkness.

"I'm okay. Are you alright?"

He grunted what sounded like an affirmative. He was groping around next to her hip. In a moment there was a click and a soft light flared. Spock held up the penlight and surveyed the situation. Haphazard piles of containers surrounded them on all sides, leaning precariously. The overhead lights in the cargo bay had gone out.

"The good news is that I think I can get my arm out now," she said.

He moved aside to give her room to pull her arm free. She used her free arm to maneuver the damaged one out from under the container.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

"Dislocated," she panted. She wiped the sweat off her forehead and slowly sat up. Large spots of black bloomed in her visual field.

Spock pulled out his communicator. The case was dented. He opened it and looked at the twisted innards. He muttered a word she didn't recognize. It sounded Vulcan and it sounded profane.

"I am going to attempt to shift these containers and get to the ship's communication board. Protect your head."

"Wait. I can't do anything until I fix my shoulder. You've got to help me."

Spock looked at her. "Are you quite sure, Doctor?"

"Yes, dammit! Hang onto my hand and pull!"

Spock shifted to her other side and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. When she told him to pull, he did, smoothly and deftly. She shrieked, and her shoulder popped back into place. She buried her face in her hand and gasped with relief. Spock held onto her wrist for several seconds. Finally he released it and turned to the cargo containers.

"These are not stable," he said.

"Gee, you think?" she muttered. She was still resting her forehead in her hand, eyes closed.

"I believe I see your medical bag. I may be able to retrieve it."

"If you do I'll have your babies."

"I fail to follow your reasoning. Here it is." He handed over the bag.

She opened it greedily and pulled out a syringe. "Yes!" she sighed as she pressed the plunger directly into her bad arm. "I could kiss you, Mr. Spock. Now, how do we get out of here?"

"We will have to wait for Mr. Scott to beam us out."

"But your communicator is destroyed!"

"I have a transponder. If I don't contact him he will automatically energize in…uh…5.4 minutes from now."

"What? You had a transponder all this time? Why were you trying to shift the containers?"

"To reach medicine. You were in pain. Also, the ship is not safe."

"Oh, right. Um, when exactly is the ship going to blow up?"

"6.5 minutes."

Claire grinned. "I thought Kirk was the one who liked to cut things close."

Spock's lips curved into his barely noticeable version of a smile. "Doctor, I should think you know me well enough now to know that I do not take risks merely for the sake of taking risks."

"And you know me well enough to know I was only teasing you."

"Of course. I believe much about our natures has now become clear to us both."

Claire's lashes shielded her eyes. "Well…about that…"

"You need not worry that I will reveal what you wish to keep hidden."

She looked up at him. "You won't?"

"Your worries are understandable, Doctor, especially to someone who has seen his own race exploited," he said. "And if you remember, you also saw things I would not have had you see."

"Your mother."

This time his eyes dropped, the dark fringe of his lashes brushing his cheeks.

Claire reached over and put her hand on his blue-clad forearm. "Spock, why are you ashamed of your emotions?"

His downcast eyes were now focused on her hand. "I am a Vulcan. Emotions must be controlled if they cannot be eliminated." His eyes raised to hers. "But there are some emotions that can neither be eliminated nor controlled."

Her mouth went dry. "Are you ashamed of those emotions?"

There was a muffled roar of an explosion and the floor shook. Spock threw himself at Claire and knocked her flat. The full length of his body collapsed on top of her and he wrapped his arms around her head, holding it against his hard shoulder. The metal containers tumbled against them.

When everything was still, he slowly released her head. In the dim light, Claire looked up into his eyes. He was breathing hard. She smiled at him. "You okay?" she said.

He didn't answer. He just looked into her eyes, a faintly bemused expression on his face. He shifted his weight slightly and she became aware of a new development in their situation. It was pressing against her thigh.

"Uh…Doctor, I have a slight problem."

"Is it a problem?" she said, still smiling up at him.

"There are still two minutes until Mr. Scott beams us aboard. You know about Vulcan physiology. Two minutes is enough time for this to develop into a serious problem."

"Gosh, too bad you can't let me go."

"No. We need to remain in contact so Mr. Scott can lock onto us both."

She reached up and stroked his cheek. His skin was like a layer of velvet over the angular planes of his face. "Control, Mr. Spock," she said.

He closed his eyes and shuddered. "Claire," he said huskily. "You offered me something in return for getting your medical bag. Will you give it to me now?"

"Have your babies?"

"No, the other."

"I will, but only if you answer my last question. Are you ashamed?"

He opened his eyes and looked deeply into hers. "How could I be ashamed of this?" he said.

She reached up and pulled his head down to hers. Locked in a breathless kiss, they dematerialized.

"What in blazes?" Scotty exclaimed as he saw what he had beamed aboard.

Standing next to him, Christine just laughed.

THE END