IT HAD BEEN a lonely night. And a restless one.
Sighing, Kirk sat up in his bed and surveyed his quarters. They had that uncertain, not-quite-real look, the predictable result of not enough sleep.
"Damn," he said out loud.
It was his own fault. If he hadn't resurrected the past the night before, if he hadn't stirred it up … Although the way Carol had looked in the failing light might have been enough to do that all by itself. That, or the sound of her voice, or the almost tangible nearness of her …
Kirk's musings were interrupted by beeping from the personal monitor on his desk. Swiveling into a sitting position, he got up and crossed the room on bare feet. Then he tapped the stud that activated the device.
A familiar image came up on the screen—that of Lieutenant Uhura. "Sorry to bother you so early, sir, but it's Mr. Spock. He's calling from the colony's communications center."
"Spock?" Immediately, the captain's mind snapped into command mode, anticipating a dozen different reasons for the call. "Something wrong down there?" he asked.
"I don't think so, sir."
"Put him through, Lieutenant."
In the next instant, Uhura's sultry beauty was replaced by the Vulcan's poker-faced calm. "Good morning," he suggested.
"Is it? It's difficult to tell at this point, Spock. I mean, the damned thing's hardly gotten started."
Kirk's surliness surprised even himself. The Vulcan merely arched an eyebrow; to him, sleep was something one could occasionally do without, and he sometimes overlooked the fact that humans were different in that respect.
"I apologize," he said, recognizing his error. "Perhaps we should speak a bit later in the day."
"No," the captain insisted. "I'm the one who should apologize. I just didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night is all. What's on your mind?"
"I wish to make a request," said Spock.
A request? "Certainly, Commander. Ask away."
The Vulcan paused, as if ordering his thoughts. "I believe, as Dr. Marcus does, that there is a flaw in the G-seven unit's operation that is leading to decreased oxygen production. I would like an opportunity to find the flaw, and perhaps to correct it."
Kirk frowned. "You want to stay with the colony?"
"Yes. At least until the ambassador's mission to Alpha Maluria Six is completed. You can pick me up on the ship's return trip through the sector."
The captain thought about it. He hated to lose an officer like Spock, even for a short time.
On the other hand, diplomacy wasn't one of the Vulcan's strong points. Kirk had planned on making him a member of the negotiating team, but his presence at Alpha Maluria Six was far from necessary.
"You think you can make a difference?" he asked Spock.
The first officer nodded. "I think it is possible."
"All right, then," the captain said. "You've got my blessings."
"Thank you," said Spock.
"No need," Kirk told him. "Just find that flaw."
"I will endeavor to do so," the Vulcan assured him. "Spock out."
An instant later, the screen went blank, and the captain was alone again with his thoughts.
McCoy was washing his hands at the sink as the doors to his makeshift examination room whispered open and his next patient walked into the room. Glancing over his shoulder to acknowledge the colonist's presence, he was surprised to find a boy looking back at him.
"Howdy," the doctor said.
"Howdy," the boy echoed, trying out what was plainly a new word for him. He had curly blond hair and soft brown eyes. "Are you the doctor?"
McCoy shrugged. "I'm one of them. My name's Leonard. What's yours?"
The boy raised his chin a little. "David."
Though the boy couldn't have been more than nine or ten, he didn't exhibit any of the childish qualities the Pfeffer and Garcia kids had. There was no wariness in him, no hanging back. Just a lot of healthy curiosity.
"David. That's a good name," McCoy commented. "Are you here all alone, David? Usually, kids come to see me with their parents."
"I was supposed to meet my mom here," he said without hesitation. "But I was a little early, so …" His voice trailed off.
The doctor turned a kindly eye on the boy. "So you decided to come see what this medical exam business is all about."
David nodded. "I guess so."
"Well," McCoy told him, "there's not much to see." He picked up the only instrument he'd brought down with him, the only one he needed. "Just this, really. It's called a tricorder, and I use it to—"
Abruptly, the doors hissed open again. This time, a woman came in—and a rather striking one at that.
Bones nodded once by way of a greeting. "Dr. Marcus. Can I help you?"
The woman was a little out of breath, as if she'd been rushing. Frowning a little, she glanced at the boy.
David turned to greet her. "Hi, Mom."
Hi, Mom?
McCoy cursed himself for a fool. Now that he saw them together, there was no mistaking their relationship. They had the same coloring, the same proud cheekbones and graceful bearing.
Not that the boy was a clone of his mother, or anything even close. Where his eyes were warm and dark, hers were an almost alarming shade of blue. And where David's hair was a mass of tight curls, hers was long and almost perfectly straight.
But the resemblance was still striking. He should have seen it when David walked in.
Carol Marcus stroked her son's hair. "Hi," she said.
Then she turned to McCoy. "I see David beat me here. I hope he hasn't been any trouble."
Bones shook his head. "None at all." He looked at the boy again, this time in a new light. Apparently, Dr. Marcus hadn't let any grass grow under her feet. But then, why should she have? It wasn't as if Kirk hadn't pursued a number of romantic relationships in the years since he'd known her. What was good for the goose was good for the gander, right?
He grunted softly, remembering how he'd felt when he found out one of his old girlfriends had gone off and gotten married. As Nancy's face flashed before his eyes, he felt a twinge of pain. Of course, that was another story entirely.
McCoy dragged his thoughts back to the situation at hand. Clearly, he mused, the captain had a surprise in store. Or had he already met Marcus's son and put the surprise behind him? Bones had no idea. He'd been so busy with these medical checkups, he hadn't seen Jim Kirk in a day or so.
"Well, then," he said, turning to the personal computer Dr. Boudreau had been kind enough to provide, "why don't we get started?" He called up the colony's roster, figuring that he could identify the boy by his first name alone. Unfortunately, when he keyed on it, the machine came up with two Davids.
Of course, neither of them were David Marcus, but McCoy had known that in advance. If there'd been a second person by the name Marcus, he would have taken note of it back on the ship.
Apparently, the boy had been given his father's surname. But not knowing who David's father was, Bones had no choice but to ask.
"What's your last name, son?"
For the first time since they'd come in, David looked to his mother. He seemed confused. McCoy wondered about that. Surely, it wasn't a difficult question for a child that age, especially one with such obvious intelligence in his eyes.
"Tell the man," his mother advised him.
David turned to McCoy again. "Marcus," he answered. "Like my mom."
Bones absorbed the information. "I see," he said.
"Is something wrong?" David asked. He was perceptive, McCoy remarked inwardly. Definitely that.
"I wouldn't call it wrong, exactly. It's just that you're not listed on the colony personnel roster." He regarded the boy's mother. She didn't seem all that surprised, he thought. "Could David have been listed under some other surname for official purposes?"
She frowned slightly. And a moment later, she turned to her son. "Would you excuse us a moment? I have to discuss something with Dr. McCoy."
David shot her the kind of withering look children give their parents when they're excluded from conversations. But he didn't question her; he just left.
As the doors shooshed closed behind him, Carol Marcus returned the doctor's scrutiny. There was a decidedly no-nonsense cast to her features, something Bones would have called defiance under different circumstances.
"Dr. McCoy," she began, "David is on the colony personnel roster. He's just not on the one you have. And the reason he doesn't appear there is that Dr. Boudreau was doing me a favor."
Bones didn't understand. He said so. "What were you trying to do? Keep me from examining him?"
She shook her head. "No. I'm not that foolish." She lifted her chin slightly, almost exactly the way the boy had earlier. "A long time ago, I knew Jim Kirk quite well."
He nodded. "The captain's mentioned you once or twice. He spoke well of you. But that doesn't explain—"
"He doesn't know I have a son," she interrupted. "And I want to keep it that way."
McCoy began to ask why. But before he could get the words out, all the pieces fell into place.
Kirk's relationship with Carol Marcus had ended about ten years ago. And there was something about the boy's eyes that seemed rather familiar, now that he thought about it. He cursed softly.
"You understand what I'm saying," she observed.
"I think so, yes. The boy is Jim's son."
"Yes, but only biologically. As I'm sure you know, your captain has no inkling David exists." She sighed. "I wish they'd sent some other ship—some other doctor, who wouldn't have noticed at a glance that David's genes matched up with Jim's. Someone who wasn't aware of our relationship and wouldn't have been able to put two and two together. But they didn't. They sent you."
He looked at her. "They sent me, all right. And once you knew I was coming, you convinced Dr. Boudreau to give me a personal computer, separate from the colony's main processor. And to delete David's name from my roster so Jim wouldn't suspect." He shook his head. "But why go to all this trouble? Why don't you want him to know?"
She looked away from him. "That's none of your business, Doctor."
He glared at her without meaning to. "Doctor—it's his son! He has a right."
Dr. Marcus shook her head. "No," she said softly. "He doesn't. It's up to me what he knows and what he doesn't."
"That's not fair," McCoy protested. "I don't know what took place to make you bitter—"
"I'm not bitter," she told him, her eyes turning hard—though she still looked away.
"Maybe not. But you've made this choice, and it's the wrong one. Blazes, Doctor, put yourself in Jim's place. Imagine someone keeping that kind of thing from you."
She met his gaze. "I don't have to justify my actions, Dr. McCoy, not to anybody."
Bones snorted. "Of all the stubborn—" With a major effort, he managed to rein in his galloping emotions. "For godsakes," he rasped, "give this a little more thought. In a couple of days, the Enterprise' 'll be gone, no matter what you decide. It'd be a damn shame if the captain left without getting to know David—even a little."
Her nostrils quivered. "You don't have to agree with me, Dr. McCoy. You just have to respect my wishes. I believe that's called patient privilege."
Bones bit his lip. She had him there.
The muscles in his temples working, he glared at her. "I know my responsibilities, Doctor." At least one of us does, he added silently.
She nodded. "Good. I'll go get David."
As she turned away from him, he called after her: "At least give it some thought," he said. "At least that."
She didn't answer. Then the doors opened in front of her, and the conversation was at an end.
"So McCoy wanted you to reconsider," said Boudreau.
Carol nodded. "That's right."
"And did you?"
"Uh-huh. But my decision was the same as before. David is my business. Jim's not to know about him."
"I see."
They were in the lab dome, working at adjacent terminals, speaking in low tones, so no one else could hear unless they were really trying. And in a colony as small as this one, people respected one another's privacy.
She turned to look at him. "You don't approve?"
Boudreau shrugged. "It's not my place to approve or disapprove. You ask me to keep David's name off the roster that goes up to the Enterprise, I do it. You ask me not to mention the boy in front of Captain Kirk, I do that too."
"But you don't approve, do you?"
The colony administrator sighed. "Now that I've met the man, I can't help but feel for him a little. He's not a bad sort. In fact, he strikes me as the kind I wouldn't mind having for a friend."
Carol frowned, remembering. "You wouldn't be disappointed, either. He's a very good friend."
Boudreau smiled sympathetically. "That's part of the problem, isn't it? If he was a real bastard, the choice would be easy. If you hated him, you wouldn't feel so guilty. But you don't hate him."
He didn't say the rest; there were others in the room, and even respect for privacy had its limits. But she knew the rest.
You don't hate him. You love him. Still.
It was part of the problem, all right. The night before, when they were walking in the woods, she'd almost weakened. She'd almost said she wanted him back, no matter what.
But it wouldn't have worked, not any better than it worked a decade before. And now there was more than just the two of them to consider—there was David as well. So she pulled in the reins and kept herself from following where her heart wanted to lead.
"No," she agreed. "I don't hate him. But that doesn't change anything. I've still got to look after my son's best interests. And that means sticking to my guns."
"Did I hear something about guns?"
In a long, dizzy moment, Carol whirled and saw Jim standing behind her. She felt her cheeks grow hot.
Had he heard her mention David? She searched his eyes for the answer.
"Something wrong?" the captain asked. He was smiling.
No. He hadn't heard. Her secret was still a secret.
"Nothing," Carol answered. "Nothing at all. You just startled me, that's all."
"Sorry. I just came to say good-bye."
"Good-bye?" she echoed numbly. So soon? she thought. It seemed as if he'd just gotten here.
Jim nodded. "Dr. McCoy tells me he's finished his checkups, and everyone's got a clean bill of health. And as you know, Spock's staying on a while. So there's no excuse for us to linger."
She managed a smile, but it was nowhere near a match for his. "Well then," she said, "I guess we'll see you on your way back."
For just a fraction of a second, his smile faltered. And she knew by that sign that she wouldn't see him on the way back. The Enterprise would come back for Spock, but the captain wouldn't beam down.
He didn't comment on the possibility directly—which was tantamount to telling her that her suspicion was correct. All he said was, "It was good seeing you again, Carol."
She met his gaze. "Likewise."
He turned to Boudreau and held his hand out. "Doctor."
The colony administrator clasped it. "Thank you for your help, Captain."
And then he was leaving, and Carol felt an ache in her throat. Suddenly, before she knew what she was doing, she called after him.
"Jim! Wait!"
He stopped, turned around, and looked at her expectantly.
Why had she called out? What had she meant to tell him? She didn't know.
And then, something came to her. Something that seemed fitting, somehow—and more important, something that would postpone his leaving by a moment or two.
Carol came up to him and took his arm. "Come on," she said.
His eyes narrowed with mock trepidation. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see," she told him.
As they headed for the exit, the doors swooshed open before them. Then they were outside, in the bright, brittle sunshine.
"You shouldn't be out here without a jacket," he said.
"It'll only be for a minute."
Once they crossed the open space and entered the garden enclosure, it wasn't quite so cold. Still holding on to his arm, she guided him to their destination.
It took him a moment to realize what they were looking at. He smiled. "These are the Klingon flowers, aren't they? The ones you were telling me about?"
"Yes," she confirmed. "The fireblossoms."
Letting go of him, she got down on her knees and dug into the red soil with her bare hands. It wasn't easy to free up the fireblossom's roots; they went deeper than they had a right to. But after a while, he saw what she was doing and bent to help.
Together, they managed to wrest the alien plant from the ground. Smiling as much as she dared, brushing aside a strand of hair that had gotten in her eyes, Carol handed it to him.
"Water it occasionally," she advised him. "At least once a month. Outside of that, you don't have to worry. They're tough to kill."
"A parting gift?"
"Something like that."
"In that case, thank you."
"In that case, you're welcome."
He regarded her. "It always was hard to say goodbye to you."
"You always managed," she reminded him, without rancor.
Jim nodded. Managing it one more time, he took out his communicator. "One to beam up," he said.
In the next couple of instants, he began to shimmer, and then to fade. Finally, he was gone altogether.
Carol took a deep breath, let it out. Her breath froze on the air. Turning to the opening, she exited the enclosure and headed back for the lab dome.
That was the easy part, she told herself. The hard part was still ahead of her.
After all, Spock would be with them for some time. It would take some work to keep him from finding out about David.