A/N: This is an immediate sequel to "Call of Duty," and a companion piece to "The Awakening." Kirk and Spock find themselves stranded 2,000 years in Vulcan's past. Spock is racing against time to make repairs to the shuttlecraft, their only means to return to the future, before a mysterious infection claims Kirk's life. The Big Three, ensemble cast, TOS.

It will stand on its own, but will be a richer story if the events portrayed in those two pieces are fully understood.

This is complete. I promised myself when I started writing fan fiction five years ago that I would never start to post chapters of a story I hadn't finished. I'll be uploading a new chapter every day or so.

Echoes

Chapter One

"Physically, he seems fine to me, at least that's what my instruments tell me. But you know Spock, Jim—he wouldn't complain even if there was an issue."

They were in Kirk's quarters, sharing a nightcap after a relatively uneventful day. It had been five weeks since Spock nearly lost his leg due to a snakebite on a wild, unexplored planet. McCoy had completed his final reconstructive surgery on the Vulcan's thigh eight days ago, and cleared him for workouts yesterday as all trace of the limp that had plagued the science officer for the last month had disappeared. It marked the first time Kirk could really breathe in weeks.

"The real test was how the leg would perform under the stresses of everyday life. Along those lines, how'd things go in the gym today? I sure as hell won't be able to get Spock to tell me anything besides 'I am fully functional, Doctor,' as if I'd just swapped out defective, malfunctioning parts on a service android. I'm a doctor, not a glorified mechanic," McCoy declared hotly, thumping his chest.

Kirk grinned at his CMO's flagrant feelings of disgruntlement with the literal-minded first officer. "We started slow, and took things easy, but he still managed to outmaneuver me in those Vulcan martial arts he's been teaching me. I was hoping I'd have the advantage for once, but I got the distinct impression that he was holding back physically as usual, in spite of his leg. I wound up on my backside more times than I'd care to admit," Kirk replied sheepishly. McCoy merely nodded.

"I watched him carefully for signs of pain, weakness or tenderness, but didn't notice any." The captain raised his glass, saluting his CMO. "Here's to a job well done, Bones—last week as well as last month. But so help me, if you ever pull a stunt like that again…" The grin spreading slowly over Kirk's face served to counteract somewhat the acute bite of panic he'd felt on that day. Had things played out differently he could have easily lost them both. Dealing with the emotional ramifications of such a loss was manageable most of the time, but when he was alone, and got to brooding…

More than anything, the captain was simply grateful that both his friends had come through the ordeal with their lives and limbs intact. The unsung hero in all of this was Christine Chapel; Kirk had been sure to put her in for a commendation for the part she had played in pulling both men through a risky medical procedure that had had the potential to go horribly wrong.

"Yeah, well, that'd be a helluva lot easier if you two could manage to keep yourselves out of trouble," McCoy snapped instantly, his craggy features melting into a frown. "And don't give me that 'who, me?' look. If you keep this up, there's gonna come a time when I can't put one—or both—of you back together again, and trust me, that's a day that's gonna make me want to throw away my shingle and become a transporter technician, and we all know how much I love that little miracle of technology."

Kirk snorted in spite of himself. "Then you need to yell at Spock, not me. I've told him several times now that I can take care of myself—"

"And that's the part you don't get, Jim—much as you like to pretend otherwise, you aren't indestructible, and neither is Spock." McCoy's eyes were flashing with an uncontrollable passion. "You insist on acting first and thinking later, and Spock sees it as his duty, hell even his God-given right, to protect you from yourself. Every time you do something reckless—and let's not kid ourselves, you can be reckless to a fault—you're just begging him to react, to find a way to keep you from harm, even if it kills him in the process."

"I can't damn him for his loyalty, Bones," Kirk observed darkly as guilt swooped in to blot out the indignation of earlier.

McCoy was just as angry, with both of his friends. "No, but if you really value his life you can think twice before you decide to march in where angels fear to tread, knowing that he'll follow you into the Ninth Circle of Hell without any regard at all for his own safety. It's a pattern with him, especially where you're concerned." A beat, as pale eyes zeroed in on Kirk's. "You do realize that, right?" the doctor asked skeptically.

The captain absorbed that statement in silence. The hazel eyes, more gold now as they sparked with ire, flicked to the wall above his CMO's shoulder. Kirk drained the remnants of the strong alcohol in his glass, savoring the slight burn as the annealing fire tickled the back of his tongue, the warm glow spreading as the potent liquid dribbled down his esophagus. That astute observation, and stinging accusation, triggered some uncomfortable soul-searching. Risking his own life was one thing, but putting the Vulcan in harm's way as well—intentionally or not—was unconscionable. Kirk had chastised his first officer on several occasions in the past for just such a transgression, but it marked the one area where Spock was likely to disregard his orders and "go rogue," fulfilling what the Vulcan perceived as his only logical course of action. Spock was not in the habit of randomly disobeying direct orders, but he seemed to have a hard-wired bypass switch where this matter was concerned. Kirk found it unacceptable, regardless of the situation, and fought to squelch his frustration, willing himself not to display it in front of the doctor.

"That didn't come into play in this case, Bones, and you know it," Kirk argued stubbornly, almost petulantly. "I wasn't doing anything reckless or dangerous. I can't help it that a poisonous snake I didn't even see took umbrage with my presence on its turf—it could have happened to anyone in the landing party—but I can—and did—take Spock to task for using himself as a Vulcan shield on my behalf." It still made him mad. Since touching briefly on the subject while Spock was recuperating in sickbay, the Vulcan had permitted no further discussion of the matter. No, to be honest, Spock had done his best to avoid the conversation at all costs.

"No, I agree that it couldn't be helped this time, but it sure as hell was an issue when you decided to fly the Constellation down the throat of that planet-killer knowing our transporter was on the fritz, or when you decided to let Sargon 'borrow' your body, and took Spock and Doctor Anne Mulhall along for the ride," McCoy threw out, refusing to be intimidated. "We nearly lost him that time, Jim. Your choice, not his."

"And Spock is just as guilty sometimes, as are you," came the rapid-fire rejoinder. "Seems to me, you both volunteered to fly the shuttle into that giant space amoeba," the captain added, more than a little irritated, and clearly on the defensive.

"Don't go changing the subject, Jim," McCoy shot back testily. "Besides, that's bullshit and you know it. We had to find a way to kill that blasted thing before it reproduced. God only knows how much destruction it would have wrought, how many more billions of lives would have been lost if we'd had an exponentially increasing number of those things running loose, sucking the life out of the galaxy."

"Just as it was necessary to find a way to destroy the planet-killer before it reached the most populated section of the galaxy," Kirk countered with a wry grin. "It wasn't my fault that someone had to be aboard the Constellation to fly her down its throat, but I sure as hell wasn't going to order someone from my crew to do it."

"Touché," McCoy conceded. "I'll give you that one, but you know what I mean. Don't go asking for trouble. It has a knack for finding you two all on its own, without either of you lending a helping hand."

That's what I'm hoping to accomplish on this mission; it should give me the time and opportunity to force a discussion of this martyr complex with Spock, and order him to cease and desist, Kirk thought silently. "Duly noted, Doctor," he opined aloud, meeting McCoy's disapproving scowl levelly. "I'll give that recommendation all the consideration it is due." To his credit, Kirk screwed on his best contrite, thoroughly chastised look.

McCoy harrumphed loudly before draining his glass as well. "I'll believe that when I see it," he remarked, no trace of humor permeating the stony visage. "And now if you'll excuse me, Captain, sir," he stated, rising to his feet, "I've got to complete my requisition forms, and you and Spock have an early date with a Vulcan diplomat."

"Yes. Yes we do," Kirk agreed, standing as well. "We'll see you in twenty-four hours, Bones. And try not to worry so much. We can take care of ourselves," the captain threw out, hoping to dispel the surgeon's misgivings with a disarming grin.

It had no effect on the CMO. "In a pig's eye," McCoy muttered under his breath as the doors to Kirk's cabin swished closed behind him.

oooOOOooo

Captain's personal log, stardate 4357.9. The ship is currently en route to Starbase Four in order to pick up needed supplies and undergo minor repairs. ETA is 07:00 tomorrow, and it has come to my attention that a member of the Vulcan Diplomatic Corps will be stranded at that location. The Potemkin was to return him to Vulcan, as well as ferry back some important diplomatic documents to Starbase Four, but was called away on an urgent mission at the last minute. The papers will be sent on to Earth once the next diplomatic shuttle arrives at the base in two days. The information contained within them was deemed too sensitive to risk transmission over subspace, where the contents of the documents might be intercepted and decoded by our enemies, and as they are time-sensitive, making them available at Starbase Four for eventual transfer to Earth will eliminate the extra time that would be needed to go all the way to Vulcan and retrieve them.

Since Vulcan is only four hours from Starbase Four at warp two, I was tasked by Command to complete the mission via shuttlecraft during the Enterprise's thirty-six hour layover.

As much as I hate to play courier I jumped at the chance. I must admit to an ulterior motive. Commander Spock was severely injured last month, coming close to death as a result. It is my intention to have him pilot the shuttlecraft to Vulcan. Once there, it will give him a chance to visit with his parents and help to ease their minds as to his physical condition. Over this past year I've come to realize just how fragile life is out here among the stars; how tenuous the grasp is, and how easily it can slip away at any moment.

I know there is some ongoing tension between Spock and his father, and that his mother worries about him. Part of me is certain I'm doing the right thing, while part of me keeps telling me to mind my own business, as I'm likely to put my foot in it just as I did when Spock's parents were guests aboard the ship.

Turns out this mission is just the excuse I was looking for. I made some calls, cashed in a few favors, and we'll see if my efforts pay off. The wheels are in motion; it's just a matter of getting everything coordinated on such short notice. I know Spock himself would never make the request to visit his parents while we're planetside, and I know if I suggest it he'll view it as an order at best, and meddling on my part at worst. It's something that needs to happen in my opinion, but unfortunately my first officer can be most reticent about such things.

And yet, this is not my only ulterior motive. Dammit! My life is not more important than his, and I need to find a way to make him understand that. A little piece of me dies with every life I lose under my command and while this is something I would never admit to him, I don't know how I would face it if he were the one to lose his life, especially if it was my fault.

Since our initial talk in sickbay when Spock first regained consciousness, he's been avoiding my attempts to discuss the events of last month's mission with him; it's as if he knows how I feel about it, but Spock's a stickler for adhering to his own personal code of Vulcan ethics.

In a way McCoy's right—it would go against Spock's nature not to follow my orders, in every instance but this. I need to make my position clear to him; it's just a matter of finding the proper approach—and venue—to do so. I really can't damn Spock for his loyalty, but need to find a way to address this issue that won't seem like a reprimand, either professionally or personally.

Kirk switched off the recorder. Loyalty to a commanding officer was part of Spock's psyche, as evidenced by his returning the severely disabled Christopher Pike to Talos IV where the former captain of the Enterprise would be able to live out the rest of his life unfettered by his broken body. To admonish Spock for something that was innate to his personality didn't seem right, and so he had chosen not to do so, at least not formally. He knew intellectually that Spock wasn't intentionally disobeying him, but viscerally it was a different matter. He intended to put an end to it, regardless of Spock's thoughts on the subject, but finding a method that wouldn't ruffle nonexistent Vulcan emotional feathers was proving to be more difficult than he'd anticipated.

Over the last month it seemed to Kirk that Spock had been adroitly deflecting his captain's offers to share meals, play chess or otherwise socialize, agreeing only when these events would take place in a public setting—the mess hall or one of the rec rooms—a place Spock knew would not be suitable for such a discussion.

In this case though, Spock would be unable to refuse the order to pilot the shuttle to Vulcan, and he'd have no choice but to discuss the matter during their return flight.

Kirk smiled to himself as he slipped beneath the covers of his bunk. His first officer could be stubborn to a fault, but so could one James T. Kirk.