Title: The Difference it Makes
Author: Gil Shalos
contact: Gilshandros@hotmail.com
Series: TOS
3/5
Rating: PG
Archives: ASCEML and ASC. Others ask

Summary:  When freak atmospheric conditions cut a landing 
party off from the Enterprise, Spock is forced to confront
 the differences between his command style and that of Captain
 Kirk.  Meanwhile, Kirk has to deal with his own
 frustration at the Enterprise's helplessness.
And then there's the Romulans....

Disclaimer: Paramount owns StarTrek, Kirk, Spock, 
the universe, my computer (no, wait,those last two 
are Bill Gates)


***************************************

Ridley frowned.  

'Computer, repeat sequence."

The graphs began to scroll across the screen again, and she 
watched them intently, waiting for whatever had caught her 
attention to do so again.  

The slightest flicker, the sense that there was something 
*there* that she should look at, and it was gone again.

"Computer, repeat sequence, one tenth speed."

Aha! she thought. There it was!  A spike at the in the 
seventeenth of the forty readings - tiny, yes, but 
definitely there.

"Computer.  Display readings fifteen through twenty, one 
twentieth speed."

And know she knew what she was looking for, there was a 
upward flicker in the readings preceding it, as well. 

Well, well, well, Ann, she thought to herself.  Who would 
have thought it?  Haemacrit and dioxin, side by side...

And stopped, and sat still for a moment.   Of course, she 
would never have thought it either, and would never have
thought to look, if she hadn't happened to be on a starship
that had a lab full of samples taken on a thousand different
worlds.  I could have worked on this my whole life, she 
thought, and never - and never once - 

"Oh, stop it!" Ridley said aloud, drawing a startled glance 
from Ensign Regna on the other side of the lab - or she 
thought it was a startled glance, it was never easy with 
Sulamids, but the eyesheafs had definitely swivelled. 

"Not you," she said quickly.  "Talking to myself."

"Yes, ma'am." said Regna, and rearranged hirself at the 
equipment again.  Ridley watched hir, but without seeing.  

I would have never once have thought of it, she admitted.  
If I hadn't been here.  

I wonder what else I've never thought of? I wonder what 
other answers I missed?  I wonder what else I would have 
found, if I'd been -

She didn't want to even think it to herself, but it was 
beginning to be difficult to ignore.  

*******
Larssen ran the tricorder over Grenwood again, and studied 
the readouts in silence.  He was asleep, and that saved her
from having to choose whether to tell him the results or to 
lie.  She took a few steps to the other side of the tent 
where Spock sat.

He looked up from his tricorder as she approached.

"He's not getting any better, sir." she said quietly, 
holding out the tricorder.  Spock took it and keyed through 
the readings.  

Larssen waited for him to say something, but he merely 
returned the tricorder silently, and turned back to his work.

He's not getting any better, he's getting worse, she wanted
to say, but bit the words back and went back to sit beside 
Grenwood.  

It was cold, even in the shelter, a dank cold that made 
everything feel damp.  Larssen shivered briefly, and then 
huddled closer to Grenwood.  She didn't know what she had 
expected Commander Spock to say about the tricorder readings,
but she had expected him to say *something*.  Perhaps it was
only to be expected from a Vulcan officer.  After all, there
wasn't really anything to be said.  

Except maybe something irrationally hopeful, a lie she could
pretend to believe in, something to ease the weight from her
shoulders.  That would have been human, not Vulcan, but 
Commander Spock was half human.  

Not the half that shows, Larssen thought.  Bob was getting 
weaker.  She tried not to think about what would happen as 
he got weaker, and weaker still, she tried to withdraw 
herself from the future and concentrate on where she was, 
but where she was was unbearable as well.  

The commander could take a shift at this, she thought, 
holding Grenwood close for whatever warmth it would give 
him.  It wasn't a fair thought, for she guessed by the way 
Spock remained as far away from Grenwood as possible that he
found the ensign's presence uncomfortable.  Surely, though, 
his human half must find it as difficult to withhold comfort
as his Vulcan half would find giving it to be?

She closed her eyes.  You've lived through worse, Cory, she 
told herself.  Deliberately, she summoned up the memory of 
her thirteenth birthday, made herself watch all over again 
the first time she had been taken to the zirdar house.  
This one has plenty of flesh, the man had said. This one'll 
do nicely.  Remember how it hurt, Cory? You've been through 
worse.

It wasn't true, though.  Nothing they had done to her could
compare to watching what was happening to Grenwood.  

Surpass fear, Commander Spock had said.  Pretending not to 
be afraid is not the same thing as casting out fear.  

Larssen shivered.  Well, she thought, it has to be worth a 
try.


*********

Kirk found the knowledge that members of his crew were on 
the planet below was almost bearable when he was surrounded
by ship's business.  The growing probability that the 
Enterprise would be needed elsewhere before they got Spock 
and his people back on board was  manageable when he could 
use crew rosters and section reports to keep his mind busy, 
and hold the anxiety in a distant part of his mind.  It was 
the end of each shift that was the worst, when he stepped 
away from the captain's chair and walked to the turbolift, 
and felt the empty space behind him where Spock should have 
been.

Kirk found his steps tending towards science lab seven when
his shift was over.  Ann Ridley did not ask him how he was 
feeling, the way Bones would.  Her obsessive interest in her
research was - restful, although there were moments during 
dinner when Kirk wondered if there was anything in the world
she could talk about besides haemacrit.  For the company of 
someone who didn't watch him with careful sympathy, however,
he could listen to stories about the strange behaviour of 
blood samples all night.

It became a matter of course that Kirk would invite Ridley 
to dinner, and that she would accept. Beta shift's 
chicken-with-almonds-and-don't-ask was not up to night 
shift's standard, but there were plenty of other options.  
The sight of the captain going about his usual practice of 
charming any female visitor to the ship reassured the crew 
who saw them in the officer's lounge, and (gossip being the 
only thing that could travel faster than warp 10) reassured 
the rest of the crew as well.  

Ridley was eager for company, and Kirk realised how difficult
it had been for her, ordered at a day's notice to leave her 
work, her friends and home, and set out on a starship where 
she knew no-one, on a search to find what had happened to a
friend gone missing.  

"I'm not the adventurous type," she confessed during their 
third dinner.  "I want to hole up in my laboratory where 
things are safe and the only unpredictability can be seen 
on graphs rather than out of the window.  I'd rather let 
someone ELSE seek out new life, and I'll just work out what
it is when they get home.  Particularly since the new life 
usually seems to be trying to kill you, as far as I can 
tell from the news."

"We've brought hundreds of worlds into the Federation 
peacefully!" Kirk protested.  "That may not make the news, 
but if you look at the lists of application for Federation 
membership..."

"It grows every year, I know." Ridley said.  "And I know you
do things like disaster relief, and medical help, and 
missions like this one... but this mission proves my point, I
think.  Joseph wanted to work out on the edge, and look 
where it got him: Frozen to death less than 30 million 
kilometres from the Neutral Zone." And look where it got 
you, her eyes said.  "Not for me, thanks.  I'm a coward." 

"It's hardly cowardice to-" Kirk started quickly, but she 
cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"You don't need to reassure me." Ridley said.  "I'm not 
fishing for compliments, and I don't need you to tell me 
what a brave little woman I really am, Jim.  The thought of
physical danger terrifies me.  I'm not proud of that, but 
I'm not ashamed of it, either."  Her gaze was challenging.  
"I wouldn't be here if I hadn't been ordered, and I want 
nothing more than to go home."

"I'm sorry we can't oblige you." Kirk said, and then thought
how that sounded.  "I mean, for your sake, I'm sorry.  For
my own, of course, I'm delighted that - um - I mean -"

"Thank you." Ridley said serenely, rescuing him, and smiled 
across the table.  

Kirk smiled back, slightly nonplussed by her cool assurance.
Then a hint of mischief lightened her expression.  "And, I 
should tell you, if it weren't for the circumstances and the
location, I'd be delighted to be aboard your ship."

Kirk wondered if he'd imagined the slight emphasis on 'your'.
Ann's expression gave him little help.  Your move, he 
imagined her thinking.

He cleared his throat.

"Have I shown you the observation deck yet?" he asked.

She grinned broadly.  "I was wondering when you'd ask."


******************************
It took Grenwood five days to die.

It is merciful, Spock thought on the second day, that he is 
scarcely conscious.  Then it occurred to him that this might
be merciful for Lieutenant Larssen and himself, but not 
necessarily for Grenwood.  Spock considered the possibility
that the discomfort the Ensign's turbulent emotions caused 
him had affected his judgement of the situation, and he had 
made an assumption about what was best for the Ensign based 
on what was best for him, Spock.  He reached the conclusion 
that he had done so, and made a mental note to address the 
matter in his mediations that evening.  

Larssen sat quietly most of the time, soothing Grenwood when
he woke and otherwise appearing lost in thought.  She moved 
around the tent occasionally, exercising her muscles as far 
as possible in the limited space.  Spock was curious as to 
her progress with Surak's admonition, but it would have been
a gross violation of privacy between Vulcans to enquire, and so he
remained silent.  

His silence was disconcerting to Larssen.  She had plenty of
experience serving with members of species whose patterns of
social interaction differed wildly from human habits, and 
would never have been eligible for an exploration posting if
her psyche results in the academy had shown the slightest 
discomfort with the different, the alien.  Yet Commander 
Spock's habit of speaking only when there was something 
essential to say began to wear on her.  

Larssen pushed the feeling away, telling herself that it was
foolish and irrational, and then stopped.  If fear was a 
lematya in her bed, perhaps this discomfort was something 
similar?  A lematya cub?

"Sir?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Do lematya have cubs?"

'The correct term for lematya young is lematyan."

"Thank you, sir." she said, and returned her attention to 
the consideration of the lematyan that was her discomfort 
with Spock. She was unaware that Spock's speculative gaze 
rested on her back for several minutes longer.

She chased that lematyan for the next day and night, 
following it relentlessly down many different tracks of 
thought: other Vulcans, full Vulcans, she had known and 
served with; other non-humans she had known in the past; the
circumstances they were in and the effect they had on her 
emotions; First Officer Spock himself, and her time on the 
Enterprise.  When the lematyan split suddenly into several 
different animals and each grew to full size, she took a 
shaken breath, and became aware that she was cold, and stiff,
and that it was morning.

She looked up, and met Commander Spock's eyes unexpectedly.
He had heard her gasp, and felt her sudden surge of unease, 
nearly as strongly as Ensign Grenwood's delirium, which was 
made palpable to him by the absence of the moderating 
influence of rational thought.  To Spock's surprise, 
Lieutenant Larssen flushed when she saw him regarding her, 
and looked down at her hands, swallowing hard.  The sense of
unease vanished, and he deduced she was again as much in 
command of her emotions as humans ever were. He did not wish
to invade her privacy by inquiring as to the case of her 
distress, and regretted the embarrassment he had clearly 
inadvertently caused her.  He turned his gaze back to his 
tricorder, and was once more absorbed in his work when she 
spoke.

"Sir?"

"Lieutenant."

Larssen hesitated, clearly choosing her words carefully.  
"Sir, has there ever been a consideration of Surak's 
teachings as ...dangerous ... to humans?"

She had his full attention now, and he gave her words the 
thought they deserved.

"Some schools of thought have proposed that human culture is
insufficiently developed to retain uniqueness when 
confronted with the powerful influence of Surak's teachings."
he said at last.  It did not seem to satisfy the Lieutenant.

"But - personally dangerous?"

Spock realised what she was trying to say.  "There is always
a debate between those who consider too close a scrutiny of 
emotions as dangerous, and those who consider it beneficial.
Such disagreements apply to many philosophical teachings, 
human, Vulcan, and others.  Vulcans, if one can make a 
statement about an entire species, tend to consider the 
second proposition valid.  However, few Vulcans would be 
arrogant enough to assume that what applies to their species
also applies to others.  The differences between Vulcan 
physiology and psychology and that of other species make 
such an supposition invalid."

He recognised Larssen's demeanour as that of a human who 
wished to confide something.  He had no desire to become her
confidant, particularly if it were a personal matter, and it
would cause her discomfort later to know that he knew of it.
Jim Kirk, or Leonard McCoy, had the ability to defuse such a
situation, but, Spock reflected, very likely neither of 
those two would have found themselves in such a position.  
Was his responsibility to Lieutenant Larssen best met by 
protecting her from the embarrassment an unconsidered 
revelation might cause, and the consequent discomfort she 
might feel in her work in the science section?  Or had he 
incurred and equal or greater responsibility on a personal 
level by encouraging her in introspection?

Spock chose his words carefully.  "I gather that your 
consideration of Surak's words has caused you some concern."

Larssen shrugged slightly.  "I just - I mean ..."  She 
stopped, then took her courage in both hands and jumped. 
"Commander, can I speak to you as a teacher and not an 
officer?"

That damned eyebrow went up so far Larssen thought Commander
Spock would cause himself an injury. "Lieutenant, I am not 
two separate people.  If you wish to tell me something that 
has a bearing on the safety of the Enterprise or her crew, 
or your performance of your duties, I cannot pretend I have 
not heard it."

She seemed, having decided to speak, to have no more doubts,
and her voice was quiet and calm.  "Perhaps you are the 
better judge of that than me, sir.  But - I was considering
Surak's words, as you recommended."  Spock reflected to 
himself that in a similar situation in the future he would 
recommend chess, or possibly solitaire.  "I was examining my 
emotions, recognising them, and ... well, sir, it's just 
that I don't think I like myself very much."

Larssen hoped he would not press her on that.  If he did, 
she would answer honestly, but she did not particularly wish
to say *Sir, I was considering why I don't like it that you 
don't chit chat, and I discovered that I only like 
non-humans who behave in recognisably stereotypical ways.   
I've discovered that I'm somewhat bigoted, and that the fact
that you are more flexible and less remote than other 
Vulcans I have known makes me resent your difference from 
humans even more.  Furthermore, although I know that Bob's 
distress causes you discomfort and that, logically, I am the
proper person to care for him, I hate it, and I'm blaming 
you for it because you haven't demonstrated the concern for 
him or for me that I would expect from a human.  And I'm 
ashamed of myself. Is this what Surak wanted me to know?* No,
she did not wish to say any of that.  She realised Spock was
speaking to her, and snapped her attention to his words.

" - required that you like yourself." he was saying.  "Only 
that you know yourself.  If all the emotions people 
experienced were creditable and led to creditable actions, 
mastering them would not be required.  When Vulcan children 
are trained in the disciplines of Surak, they are not 
reprimanded for experiencing irrational emotions.  They are 
reminded that this is not shameful.  It would be shameful 
to be aware of such reactions and to do nothing to master 
them; or to express them; or to refuse to admit them and 
remain prey to them.  Would you care to hear what Surak 
wrote on this mastery, or would it disturb you further?" 

"I think it might disturb me further, sir, but I'd like to 
hear anyway." Larssen said matter-of-factly.

"Cast out fear.  Cast out hate and rage.  Cast out greed and
envy."  Spock's harsh voice was curiously resonant in the 
confined space.  "Cast out these emotions by using reason
to accept them, and then to move past them.  Learn reason 
above all.  Learn clear thought: learn to know what is from 
what seems to be, or what you wish to be.  This is the key 
to everything: the reality of truth, the truth of reality.  
What is will set you free."

"There is a human saying, 'The truth will set you free.'" 
Larssen said. 

"I suspect it refers to a different kind of freedom." Spock 
said.

"I'll take any kind I can get, sir." she said soberly.  
"Any kind at all."


*********************

Ridley was uncharacteristically quiet over dinner that night,
and Kirk wondered whether her work was going badly, or if it
was merely the unsatisfactory vindaloo which gave her that 
discontented expression.  Or perhaps she was tired of his 
company.  He was surprised to find that the thought gave him 
a little pang, and not merely of vanity.  Dinner with Ann 
had gone from being a duty, to a welcome distraction, to an
event he looked forward to in its own right.

"Penny for them." he said, and she looked up, startled, and 
then smiled.

"I was thinking about the lab." she admitted.

"Things not going well?"

"Actually, today 'things' went very well.  I isolated the 
gamma four readings and managed - " she paused.  "Doesn't 
this bore you?"

"No," Kirk said, "Although I admit I only understand about 
one tenth."

"I thought as much."  Ridley said.  "You get a sort of far 
away look in your eyes sometimes.  I didn't think it was 
me, so I figured it had to be the science."

Kirk grinned at her.  "Am I really that easy to read?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" she countered.

"No, I don't think I do."  He was smiling broadly now.  "It 
might damage my already fragile self-esteem."  Ridley 
guffawed, a loud indecorous noise that was quite at odds 
with her dainty appearance.  Kirk went on: "But, tell me 
about your gamma four readings."

"Well," she said, and did.  At length.  Kirk fought hard to 
keep any 'far away look' from his face, but knew he'd 
failed when Ridley stopped, and looked at him, and said 
kindly: "There's a book I can recommend on this, if you 
really are interested."

"Microbiology for beginners?"

"Microbiology for Starship Captains." she corrected.  "Or I
can take you through the basics in the lab sometime.  It's 
easier if you can see what I'm talking about."

"Do you make it a habit to provide science lessons for the 
captains of ALL the starships you travel on?"

"Only the ones I'm attracted to." she said mischievously.
  
"And, ah, do you make it a habit -"

"You don't want me to answer that, either."  Then her voice 
softened.  "No, Jim, I don't make a habit of it.  I'm not 
usually quite so - pushy - either.  But - I told you, 
I'm scared.  I know this is all in a day's work for you and 
your people, but it isn't for me."

"Flirtation as a remedy for anxiety?" Kirk said, feeling a 
little wounded in his vanity.  No, that's not fair, he told
himself.  What are you doing here, after all?

"Maybe." Ridley admitted.  "But I - wouldn't mind a little 
more than flirtation, Jim.  I can't help feeling like
we haven't got much time, and I - I want to-"  Her eyes 
filled with tears.  "I want to be alive.  You make me feel 
alive.  And I want to forget how scared I am."

Kirk hesitated, and then reached across the table to take 
her hand.  "You're clearly not a coward in everything." he 
joked, but his eyes were serious.  

"No." she said quietly.  "I'm a lot more scared of dying 
than I am of embarrassment."  Then she slipped her hand from
his.  "And I'm not going to be *unbearably* pushy, either.  
I'll be in my room, if you want to come by.  If you don't, 
I guess I'll see you for dinner.  No hard feelings."

Quickly, but with a certain dignity, she got up and left the
mess.

Kirk looked after her a moment.  It had been some time since
he had been propositioned with quite such devastating 
directness.  Half of him wished that she had been less 
honest, had spared his vanity more.  Half of him recognised
her urgency as a mirror of his own.  

I want to forget how scared I am, he repeated to himself, 
and got up and followed her.

******

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"Shh, Bob, shhh."  Larssen looked up at Spock, her eyes 
bright with tears.  Grenwood had been delirious for most of 
the day and was growing steadily weaker.  "Shhh, Bob, it's 
all right, it's all right." she said for the thousandth time,
stroking his hair.  She fought down the impulse to run out 
of the shelter by recognising it for what it was, her own 
fear of watching Bob die.  She fought down the impulse to 
hit Commander Spock across the face by recognising it as an 
irrational expectation for him to behave in a human manner.
She did not think she could ever fight down the guilt that 
ate at her as she once again reassured Grenwood that he had 
not failed, no, he had tried hard and done his best and they
were proud of him, he had not failed...

Bad enough that he's dying, she thought brutally.  To die in
guilt, and fear, and misery...

She turned aside for a moment, fighting for composure.  
"Sir," she said softly to Spock, "will you tell him he's 
not to blame? Please? I know - I know it's painful for you 
to be near him when he's - like this - but -" She realised 
to her horror that she was crying, and wiped her face 
hurriedly.  When she looked up, Spock had taken her place at
Grenwood's side, although he did not touch the young man.

"Ensign," he said, in a tone of authority Larssen could not 
hope to match, "you have nothing to reproach yourself for.  
You have performed your duties to the limits of your 
abilities under difficult circumstances and my mission log 
reflects this fact."

To Larssen's relief, his words calmed Grenwood.  "I couldn't
- I couldn't - " he murmured brokenly.

"You did all you could." Spock assured him.  "What you could
not do is beyond your power to alter."  

When Grenwood did not speak again, Spock rose and retreated 
to the other side of the shelter.  Larssen knelt beside 
Grenwood, and saw that his eyes were open and he seemed to 
recognise her.  

"Bob?" she said softly.

"Cory -" he said. "I'm not - not cold anymore.  But I'm 
scared."

She lay down beside him and slipped one arm beneath his head.
"It's all right." she told him. "It's all right, it's all 
right, it's all right ..." she held him and told him until 
she realised she was talking to herself.

Spock had felt Grenwood's death as it happened and he watched
silently as Larssen sat up and methodically began to remove 
the ensign's jacket and gloves before taking a body bag from
the medpack.  Her movements jerky, her face set, she laid 
the bag out.  Spock rose to his feet and went to help her 
lift Grenwood's body onto the bag, and she nodded stiffly in
acknowledgement but did not speak as she sealed the bag.  

"With the locator in the bag, the retrieval team can take 
him back to the ship when they collect the deceased from the
shuttle crash." she said flatly.  Spock could not determine 
her motivation for giving him information he already had, 
and said nothing. "We should move him outside immediately," 
Larssen went on, in that same cold tone, "to minimise 
decomposition."

"No significant decomposition will occur overnight in this 
temperature." Spock told her.  Larssen shook her head 
sharply.

"We should move him outside." she repeated, and Spock 
thought that perhaps she was uncomfortable with the corpse 
still in the shelter.

"As you say," he agreed politely, and bent to lift one end 
of the bag as Larssen lifted the other.

Larssen imagined she could hear Grenwood's voice, Not out 
in the cold, Cory, don't put me out in the cold... and she 
closed her mind to everything except the task at hand.  
With the body bag laid outside the shelter, she evaluated 
Grenwood's jacket and gloves, the gloves too big and clumsy 
for her, the jacket too small for Spock.

"Sir," she said, and laid the gloves beside him. 

Not in the cold, Cory, please...

Pulling Grenwood's jacket on, she checked the shelter for 
anything else that needed to be done.

"Will we move on in the morning, sir?"  She wanted to run 
outside and pull Grenwood back in, open the bag and cling to
the corpse, screaming.  She held still. Don't put me out in 
the cold, Cory...

"If you feel able, Lieutenant."

Spock had long ago noted that strong emotions could make 
humans behave in unusual ways, but he sensed no such 
uncontrollable emotion from Larssen.  Indeed, he sensed
nothing at all, not even the vague static most psychically 
immature beings gave off as their minds moved busily from 
thought to thought.  Yet the woman who stood before him 
could have been a stranger.

"I'll be able, sir." she told him, and turned to the task of
preparing to move.  When she had finished she looked around 
and nodded once, then went to the corner furthest from Spock
and lay down, her back to him.

"Lieutenant," he said formally,  "I grieve with you."

"Go to hell, sir." she said with vicious precision.   Not in
the cold, Cory, not out in the cold ... She could only 
maintain her self control if she held her mind very still, 
if she focused down very hard and did not think.  She knew 
that Commander Spock had just used a Vulcan expression of 
condolence, and in his own way meant exactly what he said.  
Her response was unjust, offensive, uncalled for.  I don't 
care I don't care I don't care I don't care...

Not in the cold, Cory, please, Cory, I'm so cold...

I don't care I don't care I don't care I don't care I don't 
care I don't care I don t care...

Spock heard her stifled sobbing, muffled on her sleeve.  He 
closed his eyes, and sat silent in the dark.

********

The three tone whistle of the comm. unit woke Kirk from the 
most restful sleep he'd had since Iyen's attempts at weather
control had failed.  He reached for the acknowledgement 
switch, and was momentarily disconcerted when he couldn't 
find it.  A sleepy murmur beside him reminded him why: he 
was not in his own quarters.

He slipped his arm from beneath Ann's head and got out of 
bed.  "Computer." he said softly, "Lights at minimum."

A soft glow illuminated the room and he found his way to the
comm. switch.  "This is the captain." he said, and then 
belatedly wondered if perhaps he should have let Ann answer 
her own calls.  

At the other end, however, Uhura sounded unsurprised as she 
said, "Coded transmission from Admiral Bantry, sir."

"I'll take it in my quarters." Kirk said.  "Give me five 
minutes."

"Yes, sir."  Uhura was never less than professional, but at 
times like this Kirk really wished there was a way to engage the  vid 
screen without making it two way.  He would have bet 
his last credit she was grinning, but he didn't want to find
out quite badly enough to confront his communications 
officer with her captain's nudity.

"What is it?" Ann was sitting up, her hair flattened on one 
side by the pillow.

"Starfleet calling.  I have to take it in my quarters."  He 
was dressing as he spoke.

"Will you come back?"  For a second Kirk heard only the pout
of every lover left alone in bed, and then he saw the vivid 
fear in her face.  Ann knew what a Starfleet communication 
could mean.

"If I can." he said.  

Ann nodded, pleating and unpleating the edge of the sheet 
nervously.  "All right." she said, her voice small, and then
with a shaky grin: "All in a day's work, right?"

Kirk sat down beside her on the bed, despite the shortness 
of time, and put his arms around her.  "I've kept this ship 
and this crew safe for three years." he said.  "I'll keep 
her safe yet.  Don't worry, Ann."

"You've got two minutes left," she said after a while.  
"Better take that call."

He swore, and ran.

Bantry's face was sombre, his gills a muted grey. "Captain 
Kirk, sensor buoys report a major incursion from the neutral
zone.  Five Romulan ships have crossed the border into 
Federation space.  The Enterprise is the only ship in 
position to intercept before they reach Starbase 43.  Your 
orders are to intercept the Romulans and either destroy them
or see that they return to their own space."

"Understood, Admiral." Kirk said evenly.

"Kirk, I'm sorry.  I know your people are still missing.  
Ser Etta will be given high priority for a flyby for all 
ships passing the sector.  You'll return to the system as 
soon as this mission permits."

Kirk did not point out how few ships passed the sector, or 
how unlikely it was that the landing party could survive 
until the next one was due.  Nor did he point out the odds 
of the Enterprise surviving a showdown with five Romulan 
ships, and even if she did, the odds against no new crisis 
arising.  He simply nodded to the Dulurian, and ended the 
conversation.

It was a long moment, however, before he activated the comm 
again.

"Sulu." he said softly.  "Drop a communications relay buoy 
in orbit.  Sensor logs of a five ship incursion from the 
neutral zone are on their way to your station.  Plot an 
intercept course at maximum warp and engage.  I'll be on 
the bridge shortly."

"Aye, sir."

Another code, the one activating allcall transmission to the
entire ship.  "This is Captain Kirk." he said, and his voice
was confident and clear.  "We have been ordered to intercept
and repel a five ship incursion of Romulans who have crossed
over from the neutral zone.  When we've seen our Romulan 
friends out of the area, we'll return to Ser Etta and 
collect our missing people.  I'm sure you'd all like to do 
that as soon as possible, so I'm equally sure you'll be 
eager to deal with the Romulans with all possible speed and 
dispatch.  You can be confident I share that desire.  
Kirk out."

In Engineering, Scotty shook his head briefly, then turned 
to the his people.  "Ye heard the captain!" he roared.  
"We'll be backside deep in Romulans before ye know it, so I 
want those engines PURRING, d'ye hear me!"

On the bridge, Chekov ran all weapons systems up to 
readiness while Sulu, his face at its imperturbable best, 
ran a level two diagnostic on the manual controls.

In her guest quarters, Professor Ann Ridley put her hands 
over her mouth and closed her eyes, trying to stop shaking.

In sickbay, McCoy listened with a sinking heart.  He knew 
all too well how unlikely it was that the Enterprise would 
avoid further immediate orders  if they survived the fight 
with the Romulans, and orders after that, and after that.  
There were too many crises in the Federation to let the 
Starfleet flagship hang about forever, waiting on six crew 
members, and each crisis would take them further and further
away from Ser Etta. 

"Dammit." he said crossly.  Christine Chapel was in the door
of his office, tears standing in her eyes.  "Don't cry, 
Christine, we'll be back here in no time and that 
pointy-eared menace will be threatening my sanity again."

"Of course." she said in a tone that let him know he hadn't
fooled her one iota, and he turned away before she could 
see the moisture in his own eyes.   

*********************************************************************


They travelled, for the most part, in silence.  It was not 
Spock's nature to fill the air with idle chatter, and 
Lieutenant Larssen's usual fund of miscellaneous 
conversation seemed to have run empty.   She pulled her side
 of the travois silently, eyes fixed on the ground before
her, with more strength than Spock had thought she possessed.
He usually found human insistence on unnecessary and 
frequently redundant talk a source of irritation, but 
Larssen's Vulcan-like silences and taciturn remarks on 
essential topics were disturbingly unlike her.  After all, 
she was not Vulcan.  He wondered if this was grief, or if 
she sought to behave in a Vulcan manner as a consequence of 
her interest in Surak's teachings.  At one rest break, he 
said to her:

"Lieutenant, Surak originated the concept of infinite 
diversity in infinite combination.  He would not approve of 
a student who rejected their own uniqueness."

Larssen looked at him as if he spoken an incomprehensible 
language over an inconceivable distance.  "Yes, sir," she 
said politely, leaving Spock with the distinct impression 
he had just been humoured.  

If he had been the full telepath many believed him to 
be, he would have been more disturbed still.

Larssen trudged through the snow, using reason to examine 
her emotions.  She used reason to deconstruct her anger 
with Commander Spock, and congratulated herself on 
rationality when she no longer blamed him for not being 
human or for Grenwood's death.  After another day or so of 
searching self-examination and exquisite logic, she was able
to exonerate the Klingons (despite the fact that they had 
precipitated the situation by claiming the Realgar system);
the base research team (despite their stupidity in getting 
killed and drawing the Enterprise to this system in the 
first place); Captain Kirk and the rest of the Enterprise 
crew (despite their failure to get the landing party back in
good order and reasonable time).  Using reason, she realised,
she could place the blame for Bob's death precisely where 
it belonged: on herself.

This revelation was a peculiar relief, and she lost her 
footing with the force of it, falling heavily.  A sharp pain
in her knee when she tried to rise told her that she had 
injured her leg, but she could not bring herself to feel 
concern.

"I'll have to brace it, sir." she said to Spock as he knelt 
beside her.  "Could you pass me the medpack?"

He did so, and she found herself smiling at him.  He was on 
the other side of the wall, after all.  He was not guilty.  
Quickly, her hands more nimble and her head clearer than had
been the case for days, she strapped an emergency brace 
around her knee and levered herself to her feet.  The pain 
was bad, but it was almost as if it were happening to 
someone else.  She felt light, tireless, as if she could 
skim over the snow for days.

"Okay, sir, good to go." Larssen smiled sweetly at Spock 
again, and he felt a deep sense of unease.

"You cannot pull the travois, Lieutenant," he said.  "I will
pull it.  If you walk directly behind me, you can use the 
arms of the travois for support, and will not need to break 
the snow."

"Yes, sir," she said, still smiling.   The dawn of reason 
was a wonderful thing, she thought.  She had determined what
was, rather than what seemed, as Surak had written, and as 
he promised it had set her free!  No wonder Vulcans were so 
enamoured of logic!

As Spock pulled the travois forward, she took hold of the 
straps behind him and added her own strength to his.  It did
not occur to her to examine her conviction of her own guilt
with reason and logic.  She knew the truth, now, and had no
more need to think.  Everything was very clear, and very 
certain, and the terrible pain in her chest was gone.

She was, as Dr McCoy would have said, right out of orbit and
exiting the system fast.

When they had made camp for the night, she took off her 
trousers and unzipped the leg of her cold suit, revealing a 
swollen knee.  After nearly two months with her clothes on, 
an indescribable smell was also revealed.  Once, Larssen 
would have been embarrassed by the stench, and made a joke 
to cover her embarrassment; but that was before reason was
revealed to her, and now she remained unmoved.

The tricorder indicated a sprain, and when she fitted a 
brace and tried to fasten the cold suit over it the suit 
would not stretch to close.  Cheerfully, she put the brace 
over the suit leg and tightened it, ignoring the way the 
suit fastenings were driven into her skin, and then pulled 
on her trousers.  

"Should be no trouble tomorrow, sir," she told Commander 
Spock.  He was regarding her closely, and she gave him a 
beatific smile to set his mind at rest.  "Really, it's not 
that bad."

"Lieutenant," Spock said cautiously, "Are you sure you are 
- well?"

"Never better, sir." Larssen said calmly.  

Spock doubted that.  She seemed as calm and collected as the
Lieutenant Larssen he remembered, but the sudden transition 
from her laconic manner yesterday was not, as far as all his
experience was concerned, normal human behaviour.  And 
Lieutenant Larssen, two months or even two weeks ago, would
have cursed on taking a fall like the one she had taken 
today, would have shown signs of pain even if she remained 
composed.  She had always responded calmly to events, but at
the moment she was responding with indifference. Now, there 
was a distance in her gaze Spock mistrusted, but he could 
not think of anything to do.

As good as her word, Larssen did not let her injury slow 
their progress much.  She walked behind Spock, rather than 
beside him, but pulled the travois with a will and a vague 
smile.  They continued to make good time, and even made up 
some of the time they had lost while Grenwood lay dying.  It
began to seem possible they would reach the research base in
time after all.  


************************************************************


"Nothing yet, sir." 

The intercept course had not brought them in sensor range of
the Romulan ships.  Kirk frowned at the starmap in front of 
him.  If the flotilla had continued on their course for 
Starbase 43, they should be right underfoot about now.  
Instead - nothing. 

"Mr Sulu, lay in a course for the point the Romulans crossed
the border.  Mr Iyen, sensor scans to detect subspace 
emissions.  They've obviously gone somewhere that Starfleet 
hadn't considered."

"Now there's a surprise." muttered Chekov under his breath. 
"Newsflash: Starfleet Brass Fails to Predict Romulan 
Behawiour.  With any luck they've gone straight back over 
the border."

"That *would* be a surprise." said Sulu.  "Course laid in, 
Captain."

"Proceed at warp five.  No point overrunning their trail."

"Aye, sir."

The Enterprise turned to the new course, and Iyen's fingers 
flickered over Spock's console.  No, Kirk reminded himself.
Iyen's console.  He would be science officer until Spock 
returned, or until Starfleet assigned a new officer to the 
Enterprise.  He forced himself to face that prospect with 
something approaching equanimity, despite the sudden 
tightness in his throat.  From the way the rest of the 
bridge crew averted their eyes from the Science station, he 
guessed that they too were aware that Spock might never 
stand there again, might have been condemned to a slow death
by cold on Set Etta Five, thinking - no, knowing - that his 
captain had abandoned him ...  

Enough! he commanded himself, and forced himself to turn to 
Iyen.  "Acting Science Officer," he said formally, reminding
the bridge crew both that they had to deal with Spock's 
absence and that it was not yet to be treated as permanent, 
"any indication of the Romulans' emissions?"

"Not as yet sir." he said evenly, though his hands were 
shaking and his antenna were furled with agitation.

"Keep us informed." Kirk told him.

There was silence for a while, broken only by small sounds 
of bridge crew going about their necessary duties.  Kirk 
stared at the view screen.  He would need all his ingenuity 
and all his crew's expertise to defeat five Romulan ships, 
and he both dreaded and longed for the encounter.  Dreaded 
it, for the possibility of defeat, and longed to have it 
resolved so the Enterprise could return to the Ser Etta 
system.    And it was just plain wrong to be going into 
combat with Spock not on the bridge.

When the turbolift doors hissed open he started, 
and realised that hours had passed.

"Since we're not shooting this very second," McCoy said from
behind him, "I figured I had a few minutes to abandon my 
post and come second guess you all."

"Kibitzing is a rude on the bridge as it is in chess, Bones."
Kirk said absently, an old joke between them that reminded 
him sharply of the circumstances of the doctor's 'kibitzing':
evenings spent with Spock and McCoy and a chess board, the 
talk turning from humour bantering to serious and back again...

"Can I have a moment, Jim?" McCoy asked casually, so 
casually that Kirk turned and gave the doctor his full 
attention, then rose to his feet.

"I'll be in my office." he said. "Mr Sulu, you have the 
conn."

"Aye, sir."

The turbolift doors shut them off from the bridge and Kirk 
leaned against the wall for a moment.

"Stop the lift. Hold it here, command authorisation Kirk." 
He turned back to face McCoy.

"Come to scold me, Bones?"

"Only in moderation." McCoy said. "Get your mind on business,
Jim."

"Reading my mind, now?"

"I don't need to.  I can feel the pall of gloom all the way 
down to sick bay.  You did a good enough job on the comm but
you're slipping.  Captain."  

"You only call me that when you're angry with me, Bones.  I 
had no choice but to leave them-"

"I only call you captain when you need to be reminded of 
it." McCoy corrected him. "I might be an insubordinate 
medico, but I'm responsible for the psychological well-being 
and the morale of the crew as well as their physical health.
Right now, you have a ship full of people dwelling on the 
fact that their crew mates are stranded on a planet we're 
rapidly rushing away from and you're about to go into a 
pretty tense situation.  I think you might want to do 
something about that as a priority and stop mourning."

"I'm not mourning!" Kirk's fists clenched.  "He isn't - they
aren't dead, god damn you, not yet."

"Well, that's a start." McCoy observed.  "Now what are you 
going to do about it?"

"What can I do?" As quickly as it had flared, Kirk's temper 
subsided, leaving him drained and numb.  "There's nothing I 
can do except wait to find the Romulans."

"You can a: do your best to make sure this ship is in the 
best shape possible to take on the Romulans, which means 
doing a somewhat better job of inspiring your crew that you 
are at present.  You can also, b: find the Romulans faster
than you are now."

"And how do I do that?" Kirk asked bitterly.

"How should I know?  I'm a doctor." McCoy said very quietly,
weighing his words. "Not a starship captain.  Captain."  

"Computer, return this lift to the bridge." Kirk said, and 
nothing further.

As McCoy rode the life back down to sickbay he relieved his 
own feelings by roundly cursing everyone involved in this 
mess from Spock to Kirk to the Romulans to Starfleet to 
God Almighty.

As he entered sickbay, he heard the two tone chime of an 
allcall communication.

"This is your captain speaking." said Kirk.  "There are one 
or two things I want tell you all."  His voice was grave, 
yet relaxed.  "You don't need reminding that when we left 
the Ser Etta system, we left several of our crewmates - our 
comrades and our friends - in a difficult situation.   You 
also don't need reminding that if there's one thing that 
this ship, and this crew, are known for throughout 
Starfleet, it's that we don't leave our people behind. 
Ever."  Then the serious note left his voice for a moment 
as he added, "That and our chicken-and-almonds-and-don't-
ask, of course." One of the patients behind McCoy laughed, 
and the doctor's mouth twitched in mingled humour and 
admiration.  Kirk was very, very good.   

"We have not left our people behind." Kirk went on, serious 
again. "We have *not* done that, because we never *would* do
that.  But we're also the only ship in range to respond to a
very serious threat to the Federation - an incursion by the
Romulans into Federation space.  If our landing party were
here, standing next to you, you know that they'd be nodding 
right now as I say that we have no choice but to move to 
protect the innocent lives on Starbases and colony worlds
in this sector, lives that have no protection but that which
we afford them.  And you *know* that if you were part of 
that landing party, you wouldn't hesitate an instant before 
you said to the ship: 'Yes, go. Go and place yourselves, 
once more, between the helpless and those who seek to harm 
them.  Leave us here to take care of ourselves, and go and 
do the duty that we are all sworn to.'  You would say it 
with your whole hearts, and the landing party would say it 
with all of theirs." 

Kirk paused, and the silence stretched on unbroken 
throughout the ship as everywhere people stood with their 
tasks forgotten before them, heads up to hear the captain's 
words.   "And you would say it, and they would say it, in 
the full confidence that the Enterprise would be back as 
soon as duty permitted it, to take back to herself her 
missing crew.  Because if there is one thing, one single 
thing, that the Enterprise is known for, it's that we Don't.
Ever. Leave. Our. People. Behind."

It seemed to McCoy that he could hear a low whisper from 
all across the ship, as if he could truly hear down to 
Engineering, to Maintenance, to Stores and to the shuttle 
bays, and the hair on the back of his neck rose as over four
hundred crew murmured those words with their captain.  

"In this engagement, we will fulfil not only our own duty, 
one of the very purposes this ship was commissioned and this
crew placed aboard her. We will carry with us the duty and 
the honour of the six crew members who cannot be aboard with
us now - Commander Spock, Lieutenant Larssen, Yeoman Shimona,
Yeoman Brand, Ensign Grenwood and Ensign Bai'tin.   
Remember them. Think on them.  Do not try to put them out of
your minds, as something too worrying and too upsetting to 
think about right now.  Remember them waiting for us on Ser 
Etta Six, trusting us to do more than our best as we trust 
them also.  They are watching us.  Let's live up to them.  
Kirk out."  

McCoy smiled to himself, and whispered to the air:

"I've done my part.  Jim's doing his.  Now just do yours, 
Spock!" 

*******************************************************************

The night that Spock's calculations showed they were less 
than three hundred kilometres from the base, the fifty-
fourth night since they had set out from the site of the 
shuttle crash, something occurred to Larssen.  "What if the 
Enterprise had to leave orbit?" she asked Spock.  Her tone
was mild, as if the subject were one of academic interest 
only.

"The possibility had occurred to me." he admitted.  
"However, in such an eventuality Captain Kirk would leave a 
relay buoy in orbit, which would be within the range of the 
communicator, once we have augmented its power supply.  
That buoy would relay the message."

"How much would it be delayed?"  

"By as much as twenty four hours."

Larssen looked at the calculations again.  "We won't make 
it." she said. "Not in time.  Not at my speed."

She had made no complaint at the gruelling pace he had set, 
although the toll it took showed in her pallor, in the 
prominence of her cheekbones and the shadows beneath her 
eyes.  It was difficult to tell beneath the bulky clothes,
but Spock judged she had lost a great deal of weight in the 
last week or so.  "We may well reach the base five days 
from now. If the Enterprise is still in orbit, that will be 
time enough."

"It seems a shame," she said slowly, "to have come this far,
at such a cost, and too miss by one day because I sprained 
my knee."  Her gaze fixed on something beyond the walls of 
the shelter, she rose to her feet with an eerie grace.  "I 
don't think that's a chance we can take.  You'll reach the 
base in four days if you only take necessary supplies," she 
continued, unzipping the front of her jacket and letting it 
hang open.  "and ditch the travois.  I suggest taking the 
medpack: the extra burden will be worth it if you need the 
stimulants in the last stages."  She began to walk dreamily 
towards the door of the shelter.  It was very clear to her 
now.  

Come out in the snow, Cory.  It isn't cold.  Come out in the
snow.

"Lieutenant Larssen.  Lieutenant Larssen!"

Larssen turned to face Spock one last time, her hand on the 
door of the shelter.  She was surprised, in a distant kind 
of way, to see him on his feet, coming towards her.  "What 
makes you think," he asked coolly, "my answer is different 
tonight than it was the last time you asked this question?"

"Because," she said as if speaking to a child, "this time 
it's *my* question." She began to laugh.  "I'm just going 
outside.  I may be some time." 

"If it is your desire," he said very steadily, "that I waste
valuable time searching for you which would more profitably 
be used in travelling, you are lacking in respect for the 
urgency of this mission and for Ensign Grenwood."

"Then don't search." she said sensibly.  The door was open 
now.  Spock knew he could easily catch and subdue her, but 
after that his options seemed limited to binding her hand 
and foot or remaining awake and on watch for the remainder 
of the journey.  He moved unobtrusively sideways, in 
position for the Vulcan nerve pinch should it prove 
necessary.

"I will not collude with you in this act." he said quietly. 
"If you go outside, I will bring you back.  If necessary, 
I will place you in restraints.  You may think you have the 
right to take your own life, but if I allow you to do so I 
will be responsible for your death, and you have no right to
make me so.  Close the door."  

Come on, Cory.  I'm lonely.

Larssen remained motionless and he said again, "Close the 
door, Lieutenant.  That is an *order*."

She blinked, and as if her vision had cleared saw Commander 
Spock standing beside her, his gaze intent on her face.  I 
grieve with you, he had said, and: I will not collude with 
you in this act.  Set beside his resolve, his rock-solid 
integrity, her belief that she had penetrated the heart of 
Vulcan logic and found in it a reprieve from the business of
living was revealed as self-delusion.  She had not mastered 
her emotions or dealt with her circumstances: she had only 
run away.    

Larssen swayed, and Spock thought she would bolt for the 
blizzard, and tensed.  Then she took a small, stumbling step
back into the tent and stopped, as if dazed.  He reached 
past her and fastened the door again, not taking his eyes 
from her as she took another step away from the entrance, 
then a third, and sat down suddenly on the floor.  

"One of your suggestions is sound, Lieutenant.  Tomorrow we 
will abandon the travois and take only the supplies 
necessary for five days travel.  I concur with you that the
medpack should be considered essential equipment, for the 
reasons you stated."

Her eyes closed, Larssen nodded mutely.  Her logic seemed to
have gone astray.  She no longer felt light, untiring, 
impervious to pain.  Her leg ached and she was 
gut-wrenchingly weary, and the pain in her chest was back. 
In dumb misery she watched Commander Spock separate the 
supplies they would need from those they would not and set 
about making two packs of what they would take in morning, 
with room in one for the survival shelter.  He makes 
decisions, she thought, and accepts the consequences, and 
goes on.  Like an officer is supposed to.  She did not think
she could ever get up from where she sat, but she knew she 
would, knew she would reach the base in time or die trying, 
as Spock would: on her feet, facing forward, not lying 
down in despair.

"I'm sorry, sir."  she said in a small voice, unable to 
stop the tears rolling down her cheeks.  

Spock considered her for a moment, and she braced herself 
for a reprimand, but all he said was:

"I can think of more convenient times for you to have 
discovered your imagination, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir." she whispered, uncomprehending.  

"Rest." he said. "We must cover a great deal of distance 
tomorrow."  

Silently, she lay down where she was and closed her eyes.  

******************************************************


"Captain! Romulans in sensor range, sir!"

Iyen's voice was sharp with excitement, but not with nerves.
 Kirk's instincts that the Romulans were following a 
circuitous path to Starbase 41, not 43, had paid off when 
they picked up an emissions trail.  The Enterprise's  more 
powerful warp drive had eaten up the distance between them,
while Kirk, Chekov and Sulu put their heads together over 
manoeuvres. The crew were charged with energy and eager for 
battle.

"Red Alert. Shields up" said Kirk.  "Tactical on screen."

The display showed the Romulans streaking through space in 
a staggered formation.  

"Open a hailing frequency." Kirk said.  "Romulan vessels, 
this is Captain Kirk of the USS Enterprise.  You are in 
violation of the Federation Romulan treaty.  You are hereby 
instructed to return to the Neutral Zone immediately."

He held his breath while they waited for a response.  Come 
on, he willed the Romulan commander, see sense.  Do the 
right thing.  Let us all get out of here ASAP, I have other
things to do.  He had taken his own advice to the crew, and
stopped trying to ignore his anxiety over Spock.  Instead, 
he fed it, focussed it, added his anger to it and used the 
mix to fuel his concentration and determination.  Around 
him, he felt the bridge crew in the same state of hyper 
alert resolution.  

"They're returning our hail, Captain." Uhura said.

"Onscreen."  The tactical display vanished, visible now on 
Kirk's armrest display.  The Romulan commander glared at 
Kirk.

"We are in pursuit of a fugitive ship." he said coldly.  
"That ship is crewed by traitors to Romulus.  We insist that
you do not interfere."

As if to confirm his words, the second lead ship fired on 
the leading Romulan vessel, which twisted and turned in 
evasive manoeuvres.  Kirk leaned forward.

"Romulan Captain," he said charmingly.  "I understand your 
situation.  Please understand mine.  You are in violation 
of the Federation-Romulan treaty and I must insist you 
return to Romulan space immediately.  Your fugitive ship 
will be dealt with by the Federation."

"Pah!  Your Federation is notoriously weak-minded and ruled 
by soft emotions.  If the Treynis applies for asylum you 
will let them off with no punishment!"

Kirk muted the sound with a touch, said "Confirm name of 
lead ship" without moving his lips and returned sound to the
communication.  "Romulan commander," he said again, at his 
most winsome, "Do you have a name?"

"Sub Centurion Kaylis." the Romulan admitted reluctantly.  
Behind Kirk, Iyen said sotto voice, "Confirmed, Captain."

"Splendid." Kirk said, leaning back in his chair. "Now I 
know whose name to enter in my mission log when I record 
that the Enterprise encountered five Romulan ships in 
Federation space in violation of the treaty, and after 
giving them three warnings to return to their own space," 
his voice hardened "destroyed them all."  He leaned forward 
in his seat.  "Sub Centurion Kaylis, this is my third and 
final warning. I have urgent business elsewhere and I do not
have time to bandy words with you all day, although," and 
here Kirk smiled with chilling graciousness, "I am sure 
the experience would be charming.  I will see you in 
Romulan space or I will see you in hell and you have 
precisely five seconds to decide which. Am I understood?"

The response came as communications were cut off.  "The two 
last ships are changing course to intercept us, sir!" cried 
Iyen.  "They're attempting to lock on!"

"Evasive," snapped Kirk.  "Mr. Chekov, return their fire if 
fired upon.  Mr Sulu, get us in between the Treynis and her 
lead pursuer."

"Aye sir." from both and the gravity fluctuated as Sulu sent
the Enterprise into a twisting dive that took them beneath 
the closest ships - or above them, Kirk supposed, for 
direction in space was largely a matter of how you looked 
at it.  

"They're firing." Iyen reported.  "Aft deflectors holding."
  
Tactical showed photon torpedoes streaking away from the 
Enterprise, then one side of a Romulan ship shifted colour 
to red and that ship began to drop away to the edge of the 
screen.  The Enterprise gained on, then passed, the third 
ship and now only Kaylis' ship and the fugitive were in 
front of them.

"Mr Sulu," Kirk said, "I want you to drop us in front of our
friend Kaylis, directly in his course.  I also want you to 
do this with the Enterprise facing him."

"Aye sir." said Sulu, as if flipping a starship end over end
in warp while flying a precision course and evading enemy 
fire was all in a day's work.

"Then I want you to reverse, matching Kaylis' speed."

"Aye sir."  Sulu could be as unflappable as Spock when it 
came to flying.

"Match his course changes - he'll try to get around us - but
 make sure you reduce speed each time.  Let him get nice and
 close."

"Aye, sir."  Not quite so calm this time.  Kirk could tell 
that Sulu had his eyebrows raised.

"And prepare for my command to all stop."

"Aye - sir."  

Not a one of his crew made a sound, not even the relatively 
inexperienced Iyen, but Kirk felt them thinking questions at
him.  He smiled, and his voice was easy, even lazy, as he 
said, at Sulu but to all of them:

"They'll call this the Sulu Manoeuvre and they'll forbid 
anyone from ever doing it again, I guarantee.  But we'll do 
it today, and we'll call it the Ser Etta Manoeuvre."

"Aye, sir." said Sulu, and "Aye, sir." several others 
murmured.  All had their heads bent over their stations 
except Uhura, who was watching tactical.  

She looked across at Captain Kirk, her face properly sober 
but her eyes dancing.  

"Captain, I wish to report that the ship's betting board is 
offering odds on the outcome."

Not now, Uhura, he thought, not wanting Sulu to hear the 
odds against his success and wondering why she had chosen 
*now* to break the long-standing tradition that the bridge 
crew pretended lower-decks wagering didn't exist.  Before he
could say anything, Uhura continued:  

"Five to one on all Romulan ships destroyed in two minutes.
Two to one on all Romulan ships destroyed in three minutes.
Six to one on all Romulan ships destroyed in four minutes." 
She stopped as laughter rippled through the bridge, even 
Sulu joining in despite the sweat shining on his face.  As 
it died down she continued, "In addition, there are 
favourable odds on offer for those wishing to bet on the 
order the ships will be destroyed in, as well as the 
precise times of their destruction.  An announcement has 
been made that due to the reputations of the officers at 
Helm and Weapons, payouts will not be made on a "or nearest"
basis, but only for exact times to four decimal places.  
Moira regrets that bets cannot be accepted from Officers 
Hikaru Sulu and  Pavel Chekov, although other bridge 
officers are welcome to wager with the proviso of reduced 
odds due to insider information."

Kirk smiled.  "Ms Uhura, put me down for 20 credits on no 
ships destroyed and a course change for the neutral zone on 
the part of the last three ships in fifteen minutes or less."

"Aye sir." she said, and turned to her board as Sulu said: 
"Two minutes to intercept."

As the whooping red alert siren started, Ann Ridley jumped,
knocking her stool over.  The science crew around her had 
started shutting down their experiments, without panic but 
with a great deal of efficient haste.  Ann stood frozen, 
until a Sulamid scientist picked up her stool 
with one handling tentacle while gently pushing Ann in the 
direction of the corner with another.  

"Regulations require securing of all loose objects." s/he 
rumbled at Ann. "Includes Professors.  Suggest using 
takehold."

Ann stumbled to the takehold and grabbed it.  Her face felt
cold and numb, and the sounds of the crew closing lockers 
and fastening latches seemed very far away.  She hugged 
the takehold with both arms, and tried to keep her teeth 
from chattering.  


*******************************************
[end part 3]