Into the Song Suite Part 1 Title: Dear Sam 28 STARFLEET DIPLOMATIC COURIER, CODED SECURE George Samuel Kirk Jr. Bioagricultural Industries, Kirk Inc Deneva Central 17 Junque St. Deneva, UFP Dear Sam, Beautiful. Just absolutely beautiful. Now this is nothing but pure pleasure and a reward for the crew. I told you we were going to investigate and sample a planet that had been found circling a G Type star. You know the routine, so I'll just say it's so far that the scout ship that found it, still hasn't made its way back to Federation space. We're bigger and faster, so we'll be there and on to another mission before those poor folks make home again. I love what this ship can do. Anyway, imagine this sun, larger than Sol, older, giving off an almost white glow. It's less than yellow and not quite white. Visualize 12 planets circling the sun. The farthest is past Pluto versus Sol. The closest is approximately at Venus. That means four of the planets can be terraformed and the best part is they all have absolutely no sentient life. Can you believe that? Damn, what a find. Now there are the oodles of life on all four worlds, but Spock is almost certain that no planet has a sentient life form. Colony world, here we come. Hot damn! Let me tell you about my favorite one of the four. The scout ship named it Poseidon. It's not hard to figure out why they did that. It's 85 percent water. A deep cobalt blue sea covers it with a slow and sleepy tide on the surface. There are little archipelagos and big islands scattered all over its surface, but most are grouped around its equatorial belt. The waters are warm, so warm and sleepy. I waded in seas the temperature of a cool bath and floated on shallow soothing waves that surged slowly beneath me. I played, Sam. The creatures are not afraid of us and one group that looks a little like a cross between otters, dogs, and whales with no arms, just pseudopods, will even let us touch them. The heads were the closest things about them to otters and eyes were dark blue, like a sea. They glittered like multifaceted jewels in the white light of the sun. The skies are clear here and absolutely calm. I wonder what their winter or rainy season is like. We will stay here for about two weeks. We already set up camp on the largest island and my crew was talking about volleyball nets and soccer games. Floating on crystalline seas with the sounds of the surf to lull me to sleep, I dreamed. For once, all my dreams are filled with peace. We are very careful. No one has gotten hurt and none of the creatures have any toxins, stings, or bites that are inimical to Humans or Vulcans. I'm not so sure about the little sea dogs. I think they may be sentient. Spock says no because they use no tools, build no edifices, have no discernible language, and demonstrate no social interactions not seen in any herd animal. Spock and some of the zoology folks are in the lab having a hot debate right now. I laugh because there's nothing I could add to the discussion and when they decide, they will bring me into the loop. The other planets had only rudimentary lifeforms so they didn't require a lot of thought. This one does. The Prime Directive is absolutely clear on colonizing worlds with existing sentient life forms. That is one part I'll never disagree with. I have memories of Australia, New Zealand, Hawaii, mainland North America, and South Africa. I will never willingly violate that principle. It was peaceful for a change and I am having fun. Spock and I went diving with some of the lab crew. We picked up some unbelievable samples of plants and aquatic life forms. It was so easy because they just came to us. Of course, Spock will return all the animals to their habitats after he finishes with them. We didn't come here to ruin everything or kill what we don't understand. Once, when I was about nine, Grandpa and Jean took me to the Museum of Natural History in Chicago. It was one of the few museums left untouched by the eugenics war. The local tyrants had a love for history and research, so they spared it. Upstairs, where the public is never allowed to go, are rooms and rooms of wooden cases that are 12 ft. tall. Those cases were filled with long drawers, labeled with small cramped markers. I had no idea why they took me there, at first. Then, Grandpa pulled out one of the drawers. It was filled with dead, stuffed, Cardinals. Every damn drawer, nook, and cranny was filled with stuffed dead things. Even extinct animals like carrier pigeons and Dodos were in there. I was horrified. On the farm, you kill what you need to eat, or what you are selling to eat. You don't kill for trophies or to stuff something as beautiful as an South American Macaw, and then put it in to a drawer. I know, I know. They didn't have the same tools we have now. They used what they knew. I know that now, but I was outraged as a child. We haven't killed anything, Sam, and nothing has killed us. Sentient, or not, I like swimming with my little sea dogs. Even Spock is enjoying himself and now he's having a real ball. What he's deciding is vital. He's in his element. I let him run with it at times like this to build up his confidence for the times when I will really need him. Maybe one day, he'll learn to go with his gut reaction. McCoy is having fun, too. He found some plants that have medical potential so he's humming and collecting them. I've let anyone who wants to, go down to the surface and we even had an old-fashioned luau. Jean would have loved it since she tells folks she's from Hawaii. We didn't roast pig, though just veggie steaks, and stuff from the stores. We're low on fresh food, so we worked with what we had. I'm content, Sam. I've got a great crew and two of the best friends in existence. Of course, I also have you. Next thing you know, I might get laid and I'd have to die of bliss. Fortunately I have no trouble remembering sex, even if I'm not getting any. I wonder if those otter things have good . . .. Gotcha! Made you laugh. Love Ya Big Brother, Jim Into the Song Suite Part 2 Doctor's Logs 33 This is a lovely world. I'm enjoying the hell out of it. Crystalline beaches surround us, unmarred by human footsteps or kiosks advertising the latest in fruit drinks. Oceans for as far as the eye can see roll with sluggish tides and ancient waves. This planet makes me feel young as a second. Most importantly, there are no Klingons on this planet, no carnivores, no Orions, and nothing to kill my crew. Maybe we can get through this one adventure without any losses or injuries. I'll drink to that. Jim has decided to let everybody go down to the world and have a go at some shoreleave. Spock swears there's nothing down there that will hurt anybody. There doesn't seem to be any toxins inimical to human life and there doesn't seem to be anybody who wants to make humans into dinner. I would call this place Nirvana, wouldn't you? We need a break right through here. When I think about what's been happening to this crew over the last few months, I have to stop and shudder. I'm not sure any of us were ready for this type of adventure. You would think that out in space where planets are separated by millions of miles, there would be plenty of room to keep out of trouble. What ever is the case for the rest of the star ships in Starfleet, that certainly ain't the case for us. I need this rest, the crew needs this rest, and Jim needs this rest. I'm not sure about Spock, or what he needs, because he would never tell me. I watch Jim take a deep breath and keep plodding ahead and I hope he doesn't run into any walls. One day he will and I can only hope and pray that I'll be there to put him together afterwards. I went down to the planet surface to relax for a while on the beach. The sand was unusually fine, the result of millions of years of water wearing it away to the smallest particle of matter. It's gray, because of a high proportion of silica and it works Its way into your pores and under all of your fingernails. We all have to go through decontamination at least twice before beaming aboard the ship. Still, I have to say that I'm enjoying it. There's not much for me to do and the view is magnificent. I've thought a lot about the incident with John Gill. I guess I can accept the fact that Jim killed the man. God knows Gill made an unforgivable error. One of the things Starfleet drummed into us before we ever came out here on the ship, was to never try to make anyone else's civilization into a copy of our own. Gill knew he was wrong and he did it anyway. How many times did Humans make the same mistake on Earth? Why is it that we never learn our lesson? How many civilizations did pride, arrogance, and the concept of the manifest destiny destroy? It wasn't until the 20th century that Americans finally admitted that Columbus didn't discover America. Shit, Viking, Polynesian, and African sailors had already been there centuries before and there were millions of people living there already. How do you discover someplace that was never lost? What he did was rediscover a route to a land that was already populated by civilization as old as his own. What he did was set up the destruction of that civilization and begin a process of rationalization for the rape of a land and the people. All it was done out of the true belief that European civilization was imminently better than anything ever found. John Gill made the same mistake. He decided that what he offered was better than what they would come up with on their own. He decided that he knew what was best. What a crock. So, Gill is dead and life goes on elsewhere. The universe didn't even bat its eye. I'm not quite sure what to do about Christine. Jim told me about everything that happened down on the planet with her. He told me something he didn't put in his own report and that was her begging him not to make her choose between her fiancée, Roger Corby, and her duty to Starfleet. I wonder what her choice would've been, if Corby had been alive and not an android. I didn't see the android that came on board. I have no idea if I would've recognized the substitution. I can only hope and pray that I would've missed Jim's humanity, but maybe it's more complicated than that. I asked Spock how he picked it up, and he took a longer time to answer me than I expected. I'm not sure he gave me the absolute truth, but he said Jim hollered at him and told him he was tired of Spock's half-breed interference. That clued Spock into the fact that it wasn't Jim. I know I've covered this territory before, but it continues to eat at me. What is the difference between an android with all the memories of a man, and a man with all the memories of a man? The damn robot was identical to hear Spock tell it, and yet he knew. I asked him if he touched Jim, and he denied it. If it wasn't touch telepathy, what the hell was it that clued Spock into the deception? I don't accept the bit about Jim yelling at him. Jim yells at a lot of people, and they usually have it coming. Strange when you think about it, ain't it? Why didn't he just think that Jim was tired of his interference? I asked him about that. Spock said: " Jim has never evinced any racial animosities or antipathy towards anyone regarding their genetic inheritance; it's always about their personal performance." Spock told me if Jim had hollered at him and said, I'm tired of your meddling, Spock would've left the room and left Jim alone. He then would've waited approximately 23.4 minutes for Jim to come and apologize. He says he has tracked Jim's emotional outbursts, and it never takes Jim more than 30 minutes to apologize for angry outbursts. He said that if Jim had not come within that time, he still would've been suspicious. How do you like that? He has Jim's apologies down to a fine science. Dammit if he isn't right though. Jim never stays angry for long, and if he goes off on you and he's wrong, he always apologizes. It was one of the first things I noticed about him when I joined the ship. It is a vanishing rare trait in a man of power and privilege. Power corrupts and so on. It will corrupt him too, eventually, but until that day, he does a damn good job of keeping himself in check. One of the things he never asks anyone to do is change who they are. He wants us to hit the mark, do our job, but he allows us the ability to do it our way. Results are what counts on this ship. I like that. I have to, considering my mouth. Nobody has to tell me how abrasive I am. I know it and if I didn't, I've been told enough to remember. I can't change who I am. Thank God he sees through my rapid fire lips to the real me. Thank God he has enough balls to apologize when he's wrong. I'm really grateful that a hate filled diatribe against an Officer is so atypical, that it set off every alarm in Spock's head. Spock told me that Jim even apologized for his choice of what to use to clue Spock in. He knew it would hurt Spock's non-existent feelings to hear it, but he had to put the welfare of the ship ahead of Spock's emotional welfare. Jim said he figured that if it worked, Spock would accept his apology. If it didn't work, he'd be dead, and never know what Spock thought. I'm going to go get a cooler and stock it with mint juleps, put on some tanning lotion, and head to the beach. I'm planning on trying to get my captain drunk. . yet again. It's an ongoing project. Scotty keeps asking why I try. He says he has never seen the man drunk, but he has seen him consume an impressive amount. Scotty claimed that Pike couldn't get drunk either. He thinks it's some secret thing they do to Starship Captain's to keep them from being security risks. I didn't tell him that Jim has hinted at the same thing, but I don't buy it. Physiology is physiology and chemistry is chemistry. I'll find the right mix one-day, and I'll finally see that boy with his hair down. When I stop to wonder why it's so important to me to get him likkered up, I realize that it's all about me, and I can accept that. He has to have something, some one thing that will allow me a better look inside that fortress of his command image. I need to know the real him, especially if I am going to be responsible for his soul. Soul. Brrrr. Weird, where did that come from? I don't know, but it sounds right. Maybe we can get a barbecue going with some veggie burgers. Yum. Give me a slab of real pork ribs, any day. End Log Into the Song Suite Part 3 Doctor's Logs 34 We had a really nice time yesterday. I should've known that meant something was going to happen. So ,we had a little excitement last night. This is our seventh day on this water world and each day is more pleasurable than the previous one. We had a giant barbecue after sundown and I think probably half the damn crew was down there partying. We have veggie burgers, reconstituted steaks, and reconstituted corn on the cob, and we actually did eat some fresh fish from the planet's surface. Needless to say, I pulled out my bottle of Kentucky bourbon and tried to get my Captain drunk. He thinks it's funny when I do that. He sits back and looks at me with this amused expression on his face, and matches me drink for drink. I gave up after about three hours. So guess what he did? He jumped up and went for a swim. You could see him out there against the glow of the moonlight. One lone figure, swimming back and forth against the flat horizon. Occasionally, a Seadog would push his head up out of the water to take a look at what idiot was disturbing their peace. I almost hollered out: "Never mind him. It's just Jim and he doesn't know how to relax." Nyota and Hikaru went off behind one of the dunes. Personally, I don't like to have sex on the beach. You get sand everywhere. At one point it seemed like every single person on the crew had someone to snuggle with it except for Spock, Jim, and me. I don't count Scotty because he snuggles with his engines. Spock just sat and read a scientific journal. He did make a concession in that he had on a swimsuit, but he didn't get in the water during the day. Later in the evening, when I had given up on my Captain getting blasted, I leaned back and relaxed in the sand. Most of the crew had wandered off. . .for a little island privacy. We had built a huge bonfire, it sparked, and it crackled in the background. Jim was out, pretty far, too far for my comfort, swimming. Occasionally, a Seadog would come up beside him, he'd grab hold of it, and it would pull him along for a way. It was pretty damn idyllic. Suddenly, Spock stood up and yelled at the top of his lungs. I didn't know what he was yelling about, so I panicked and ran over to him. My heart was thudding in my chest like a snare drum. All of a sudden, I saw. Something big was coming in towards the island and fast. I mean big enough to see the ripple it was making. Jim must have heard us. I was screaming now, and Spock was contacting the ship. He turned towards the shore and then swirled around to see what was coming. It was too close; they couldn't get a lock on Jim, fast enough. Suddenly, you heard this loud whoop and a scream of laughter. Jim came up out of the water on the back of a damn Seadog as big as an elephant. He was riding it, and it was swimming faster then I have ever seen anything swim. That damn fool stood up on the Seadog and started beating his chest and whooping like a lunatic. I almost wet on myself and he was laughing on the back of a new pet. I really wanted to beat him to death. Spock shut his eyes and closed the communicator. He took out his ever-handy scanner and began to take readings on the thing. I swear I'm telling the truth. Jim rode that thing for at least twenty minutes, and then it just came in towards the shore, close enough for us to walk out into the water and touch it. The real weird thing about it was, when we called out to Jim, he was just lying on the Seadog's back. Spock ran into the water and grabbed Jim off of the Seadog. The idiot had gone to sleep. He woke up with the stupidest expression on his face, I have ever seen from him. Spock half carried him to shore and plopped him down on the sand. If you think I was mad, you're damn tooting I was. If he was so buzzed, he was going to fall asleep in the water; he should've never gone out there. Okay, I was feeling guilty, too. I meant for him to get drunk, not eaten alive or drowned. Spock was looking at both of us with a look that in a human would have been called disgust. "Captain, it was not wise to swim while intoxicated and it was especially unwise to do so on the back of a beast you were unsure of. " Now that sounds mild, but mind you, Spock doesn't usually ever criticize Jim. Jim acted sort of strange. He shook his head and mumbled. I think he mumbled, but Jim never mumbles. I couldn't understand a word he said. Spock's eyebrow came up next, he touched Jim's temple for a brief second, and then he frowned, stood up, and pulled Jim up. He grabbed his chin and pulled it up so he could look at his eyes. I'm not sure what happened next, maybe command training asserted itself, but suddenly Jim was all there. I mean, he was fully alert. He reached up, took Spock's hand away from his face, and stepped back. "Sorry. That was stupid on my part. Fun, but stupid. " "You were almost unconscious." Spock replied. "It was a smooth ride, and it hummed to me. I guess I got too relaxed; no more night swimming for me. Why haven't we seen something that large before, I wonder?" Right about then, I wanted to barf. All the alcohol and the excitement were a bit much. I held it in because this was too good to miss. "I have no idea, but it is a planet. I am sure there are other things we do not know about, swimming in the ocean. Perhaps, the larger Seadogs prefer moonlight. Who knows what else could surface at night? It is even possible that a predator chased it to the surface." Now that was equivalent to Spock slapping the shit out of Jim for scaring him. First, Jim's head shot up and his eyes sort of gleamed, like he was about to tear a new hole in Spock's you-know-what for criticizing him. I'll give Spock credit; he didn't back down. He just stared at Jim and refused to look away. Spock won that battle because Jim blinked first. He actually hung his head like a kid. Woo, boy was he feeling it, if he did that. Usually, he gets pissed and rears up like a pit bull if someone reprimands him. "Complaint noted and logged, First Officer. I will put myself on report. You're right, I'm wrong." He wheeled around and walked away. Damn. Spock turned to look at me and I wanted to slink away too. "I didn't do anything." You know I couldn't just stand there and be silent. He looked away. Jim was getting in a sleeping bag, and zipped the top over his head. When I looked back at Spock, he was staring at me. "Why do you insist on trying to get him drunk and out of control?" I shrugged. "He's always on, Spock. I want him to be able to let his hair down, relax, shoot the breeze, have an unguarded moment. I haven't been able to get him to do it any other way. He needs to let go. I had no way of knowing he would decide to ride a damn water elephant. Your whole team said this place was safe." "He was not drunk, Doctor, and he was not asleep. The creature must have some soothing emanations, because he was in an almost trance-like state. However, I would not have expected you to realize that, since it is obvious you have 'let your hair down." Ouch, that hit the mark. I, for once, had nothing to say. The truth can do that to you, shut you up, I mean. "As for letting go, perhaps you should consider his needs more closely. Has it ever occurred to you that he has seen that part of himself and does not wish to see it again? Has it occurred to you that the time he spends with us is the time he lets his hair down? Until now, your attempt at manipulation has been amusing to him, but not to me. You will cease with this behavior, or I will officially reprimand you for engaging in actions harmful to the Captain." Yup, that's what he said. As a matter of fact, it had occurred to me, and I dismissed it. Jim is one of the most secretive men I have ever met. Oh, he seems to be open and friendly, but its all surface. He doesn't really share anything. He holds almost everything back that will open up any sign of weakness. He avoids doing anything that tarnishes his Starship Captain image. Well let me clue you in on something, only 40% of Starship Captains survive their tour of duty, and of those who do, only 20% last ten years after the end of their last Starship tour. Over-trained, over-hyped, too far away from routine life, they never fit in again. Imagine being the real boss, parsecs away from anyone who can stop you. If your crew believes in you, you can destroy worlds, feed planets, cure races, and then, its over and you're a paper-pusher asking landlubbers if you can wipe your own arse. They all have self-destructed from drugs, thrill seeking, self-sacrifice, or suicide. So there, I've said it. He's the youngest and probably the best we've ever seen. All that means is that his tail will be that much brighter when he burns up on re-entry, unless I can reach him first. Screw Spock. I know what Jim needs better than a half-breed, anal retentive, confused Vulcan celibate. I brought Jim into sickbay today and gave him a thorough going over. There ain't nothing wrong with that man. He's fine; his brain-scan and his bio-filters are all normal. Blood alcohol level was a little high, but I fixed that, since I caused it, so to speak. Spock is a worrywart. Next time, I'll just check for dangerous stuff first, before I get him toasted. And I'll make sure we don't drink near water, mountains, or wild animals . . .or fast ships . . .or itchy Klingons . . . you get the picture. Speaking of pictures, I don't think I'll ever forget the sight of Jim standing on top of that gigantic Seadog, whooping, hollering, and beating his bare chest. The moonlight made him glow. He looked more than a little magnificent, and less than really scary, if you know what I mean. It was a sight, I tell you. End Log Into the Song Suite Part 4 Title: Spock's Logs 20 The away team is missing. I must compose my thoughts. I'm having trouble concentrating. This egregious lack of control is not compromising my abilities to function as acting captain of the Enterprise. I have given all the appropriate orders and I have made the correct personnel moves based on current indication. It is now time for me to demonstrate my recognition of my role as acting captain of the Enterprise is to demonstrate leadership qualities by my actions. I do not feel like a leader at this time, but perhaps I can act in a manner to convince the uncertain. Jim has often said: "Appearance is more than everything, sometimes it is the only thing". I am not certain how long they have been missing. Because I had told my Captain that there were no obvious dangers on this planet, we had moved to mandatory 30 minute check-ins. They did not make their last check in and we have not been able to locate a signal from them. I have called back all the personnel who were on the planet's surface. I am forced to wait for the arrival of each and every one before I can leave the ship to investigate the disappearance of the shuttle. Regulations require me to make sure everyone is aboard and that I have signed off to Mr. Scott prior to my departure from the ship. I find myself requiring the use of this Log in order to make myself stay on the ship as we wait for Mr. Scott to return. I recognize it is not his fault he is not available right now. Yet, this recognition does nothing to lessen my sense of impatience. I shall meditate on the futility of impatience. My Captain is missing. We do not know where he is and we do not know what has happened to him and the seven crew members who accompanied him. All we can be certain of is the fact that the away team is no longer responding to our signals. We also know the shuttle's Tracking device is not registering on our sensors. Since the only humans aboard the planet are our crew, I have surmised if I remove all human presence from the planet's surface, the only remaining human shall be our away teams. I will use this tool to locate my Captain and the rest of our team. I shall not attempt to excuse my present behavior and my lack of emotional control. I recognize this demonstrates a deficiency in my abilities and training. I experience a heightened sense of discomfort at times such as this. We have attempted all reasonable means of contacting the shuttle and yielded nothing but continued silence. I also am experiencing a strange unease, which is not well formulated. I do not sense pain, death, or lack of consciousness. I. . .feel the hint of an altered sense, an unusual noise, throbbing behind my skull. I have never sensed this before. Perhaps it is telepathic in nature. I suspect this in retrospect. I should have made the deduction earlier. When Jim was lulled to sleep on the back on the Sea Dog, I made the assumption that alcohol was the major culprit. I was in error, I now believe. He has never been intoxicated in my presence, and certainly never on landfall on a new world. My. . .internal, unspoken, beliefs about the irrationality of Humans, contaminated my logic. I shall labor to correct this. Jim would sing to them, and play a most illogical game of fetch with his two favorite Sea Dogs. How ironic if they are the agent of his demise. Spock, here. No, Mr. Scott, nothing. Wait in the shuttle bay. I shall be there shortly. Have Dr. M'Benga meet us in the shuttle bay and notify security that we are ready to depart. End Log Into the Song Suite Part 5 Doctor's Logs 35 We've been here 12 days. I should've known it was too good to be true. I was enjoying the hell out of this place, until our away team went missing. Of course, it was the one Jim was heading. He could find trouble in the middle of a vat of whipping cream and single women. Damn. I feel sick to my stomach. Scotty is so upset, he lost his accent. Uhura is underneath her console. She mumbled something about tracking the subspace transceiver on the shuttle, even when it is turned off. She read it in a journal somewhere. Spock is even acting strangely. He and I got into an argument. He insisted I stay on board the ship while he sends out a rescue squad. I think I should be with the search team in case there are injuries among the missing. He wants M'Benga to go with them. Screw that. I'm the CMO and I should get to decide who goes and who stays. He's giving me some claptrap about M'Benga having Vulcan training that could help them. What damn difference will Vulcan mental discipline make if you find yourself having to put somebody's gut back in their abdominal cavity? Telepathy won't find Jim. Telepathy won't resuscitate shit. We broke off the discussion before it got ugly. I hate it when he goes all Vulcan on me. I'm better at trauma than M'Benga. Evan's better with the nervous system, infectious diseases and the eyes. We know who can do what and it should be my decision on who goes with the team. Jim always lets me decide. Damn Vulcan. Spock tries to act like nothing is out of the ordinary. We are following regulations involving a missing member of a command team on an unexplored world. We're on rule 23.456b, as if rules and regs find men. I know better. There's no way in hell that ship is supposed to disappear on a planet with no damn predators. The Cousteau is an exploratory vessel equipped for Deep Ocean research. Every Starship carries one now. It's not made for long trips in space, but it is space-worthy, in a rudimentary sort of way. That means we could find that damn ship anywhere. They last reported in over the Southern Hemisphere. Scotty tells me Jim was planning on investigating some unusual readings the robot probes had brought back. I saw those readings because I look at anything with biological implications. The readings didn't look anything like the stuff I've seen before. They were strong, but the biorhythms were the strangest thing I've ever seen in aquatic, non-hibernating, and/or suspended life forms. None of us had a clue what it was, but a few of us thought it was some huge form of living coral, or a massive school of fish. Spock didn't have any better guess than the rest of us. So, Jim decided to go investigate. I can just hear him saying: 'It might be fun.' I was busy with some samples of stuff that I thought might have a value as a nutritional supplement, and Spock was salivating over some anomalous structures on one of the larger islands. He suspected the structure were artificially constructed. Jim was bored. You could see it in the way his eyes wandered. We were too safe, too calm, and everything was too routine. I think he feels superfluous at times like that, so he was eager to lead a team to investigate the mystery. I'm told we lost contact with their team two hours ago. I didn't find out there was a problem until 1 hour and twenty- three minutes after the fact. Spock has called up all the crew and we're moving the ship to a stationary orbit over the last reported position of Jim's ship. Right now, Spock and I are barely talking to each other. I know I should do better in situations like this, but he really pisses me off. How dare he not let me know Jim was missing? He said, there was no cause to alarm me, and there was nothing I could do, so he saw no purpose in informing me. How about the fact that Jim is my damn friend? He has cut all interaction down to a bare minimum and barely explains what he's doing. I can't get used to this and I don't plan on trying to get used to his style of command. I came on board to serve with Kirk, not the great green stone face. One thing I've noticed, when Spock thinks Jim is in mortal danger, or hurt, he gets to be a minimalist. He won't even argue. So, the fact that he still argues with me means he thinks Jim must be alive and well. It's not logical, but it works. Trust me. Pause Log That was Spock. They found a signal from the Cousteau. It's coming from about 1,500 m below the surface of the water. He says there are life signals for all the Crew ... except one. I know who my money is on for being the missing one. What the hell were they up to? The shuttle won't respond, so Spock has three shuttles getting ready to launch with full security and rescue squads on board. M'Benga is going with them. I lost that battle. Spock suspects they may have run up on something biological and wants me ready to treat, or create antidotes based on Evan's readings and clinical evaluations. He says it may be something biological, then he makes this damn cryptic comment about strange sensations over the site where the signals are coming from. I asked him what the hell, 'strange sensations' mean. All he said was: "I have nothing concrete, Doctor. I will inform you when I do." I don't like this, dammit. I should be down there. I hate waiting up here for news. I've got to go. Shit. Pause Log Resume Log They have the crew, at least everybody except Jim. Damn, damn, damn. I told you. Shit, I told you. He'd better find Jim. I should have been down there. That pointy-eared, green-blooded, cold-hearted, idiot should have let me go down there. Something's wrong with all the people they found. They're all unconscious with identical readings to the ones we couldn't explain earlier. At least they're alive, which gives us a better chance for Jim to be alive. Damn and double damn. I have to go, the samples are coming up and I need to double-check everything before we bring the crew back on board. We can't let anything infectious on this ship. M'Benga already said It isn't any biological agent involved, but I have to sign off, too. You never know if the planet-bound person's judgement has already been affected. I gotta go. Pause Log The crew we recovered seems to be medically stable. Their blood and tissue samples don't show any virus's, toxins, bacterial agents, plasmids, parasites, alien fungi, chemical agents, or spores. We ran all of them through the biofilters four times before we allowed them on board. I couldn't find a damn thing in any of them that didn't register on their scans before they went down to the surface for the first time. So why the hell are all of them unconscious? Their brain waves correspond to REM sleep. So, all I can say is that they're probably dreaming. What the hell am I supposed to do; kiss them to wake them up? I have the computer working on some things. I tried regular stimulants, nada. Then I tried a little direct cortical stimulation, nothing. I went to the limbus, because it controls waking states. I might as well have spit in a cup and tried that. Shit. M'Benga is still on the surface. We haven't found Jim. I've talked to Spock and run some things past him. He's no help either. In fact, originality ain't Spock's forte. That's Jim bailiwick and Jim is nowhere to be found. Spock keeps saying Jim is alive. I have to hope he's right. I wonder what statistics he's using to bank on that. I'm tired of waiting to find out whose dead and who's alive. I'm really tired of having to find Jim and piece him back together. I. . .I don't want to lose him. He's my best friend and the best . . .no scratch that; he's not the best. You have to be peaceful to be the best. He kills too easily to be called a peaceful man, or a merciful man. He's the most complex, heroic man I've ever met and I won't stay out here without him. Shit, shit, shit. Damn, there's the computer. Soup's on. The samples are ready. Pause Log Resume Dictation Eu-fricking-reeka! I found the answer! Six talking, moving, oriented, young folks are sitting in my sickbay. Damn, this feels good. Believe it or not, a derivative of Ritalin worked. It used to be for Autistics along with low dose Saravi. The drug combination allowed Autistics to screen out the psychic noise that used to keep them from being able to live in the real world. It is also used to counteract some of the affects of suspended animation. I gave them each a dose and wham. They woke up. I got the idea from some articles I'd been reading on Borellian sleeping sickness. Who knew? They're radiating. . .I'm not sure what to call it. Maybe the best term is --peace. They, every damn one of them, said they remember a sound, almost like a choir or a heartbeat, but they can't sing or hum any sounds. The pieces of it are fading so fast, we can barely record their words before the memories fade. Sigmund says they're all emotionally healthy. I'll try to regress them under Subconscious Sigmund and see if any pictures play back. Memory is a funny thing, but they all remember Jim being on the ship before they fell asleep. Where the fuck did he go? Dammit, sometimes I think he does this on purpose. He's going to drive me up the damn wall. Why didn't they wait until he was older and a little more cautious before they gave him a Starship? A few more years from now, he'll realize he's not immortal and he's not the center of the damn universe. Just take a scalpel and slit my throat, why don't you. That would be better than waiting with nothing to do. Spock took an inventory of everything on the shuttle. One EVA suit is missing. Our First Officer is still on the surface. He won't come back up, even to talk to the crew in Sickbay. End Log Into the Song Suite Part 6 Doctor's Logs 36 It's been 18 hours and 36 minutes since we recovered the other members of the shuttle crew. That means Jim has 22 minutes of air left. Needless to say, I ain't happy. Spock and the security team have done everything except swim every square inch of the area around the shuttle. There should be a tracer on the EVA suit, but we can't find the signal. Uhura has boosted all of our receivers far past Federation specifications. Still nothing. The sensors are not picking up any human presence, nor ion traces from a powered suit. Spock hasn't returned to the ship at all. I'm not sure he's eaten or slept since well before Jim disappeared. I have talked to M'Benga a few times and he says the atmosphere down there is beyond tense. Giotto is driving Security, Spock is driving Giotto and Jim is still missing. M'Benga says the interference to subspace communication is getting worse, too, and they have no damn idea why. Spock sure as hell isn't going to listen to me now, especially after our last argument. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help. Maybe I need to look at those signals again. They're definitely biological in nature and maybe they have something to do with where Jim is. Jim has 7 minutes of air left, maybe less. It depends on how far down he is in the water and what the water temp is and how fast he's swimming, or how hard he's struggling. I've got to think. I reviewed all of our reports we generated on the recovered crewmembers. Let me talk this through and see how it sounds. 1. We lost seven crewmembers over an area with a strange biologic pattern that is wide, strong and resembles nothing more than living coral. 2. There is no coral anywhere near the signal or the place where we lost the shuttle. 3. The folks we recovered were in a deep REM State that required drugs to arouse them. 4. There are no ill affects of that state, at least none I can find. 5. Jim is missing. 6. One EVA suit is missing. 7. I just finished reviewing the Bioscans of all the returned crew, and the only other thing I found was a slightly slowed heart rate, a slightly lower than normal body temperature, and a 10% decrease in their metabolic rates. 8. Spock has found no trace of the EVA suit at any level up to 2500 meters. 9. If Jim were dead, the suit would turn off, float to the surface and emit a tiny signal. 10. This is starting to itch. I feel something, something . . .. Yes! If Jim is alive, he has to be lower than 2500 meters below the surface and his metabolism, body temperature, and heart rate must have slowed even more than the folks we recovered. The suit would say he's alive, but the readings would confuse its programming. The suit would maintain its position until all life signs were absent. Maybe the deeper he goes, the more his signals and life signs would resemble whatever it is we are getting from that area. Suppose it's something biologic, a hive mind or a conscious plant, or . . .I don't know, something big. So, where the hell is he? Think, McCoy, dammit! Let's assume he's so deep and his readings are so close to the ones we were investigating, that we aren't picking him up. If he merged his readings with the ones we were getting, there would be no way to separate him out from the other noise. If he's even deeper in REM, almost suspended, but with their bio readings, he would look like them, or it, on the monitors? I bet he'd be indistinguishable from the rest of the readings. So, if that's the case, he'd be even slower, colder, and more deeply unconscious than the crew I've already seen. What other attribute could we use to separate him out as a human from the background noise? Who's that? Into the Song Suite Part 7 Doctor's Logs 37 "Sit-down, Spock." "I do not require a seat, Doctor. Why have you insisted on our having this discussion in your office? I was willing to give you a report in Sickbay." "I don't want them to hear what I have to say you, Spock. It's because you left me on this ship that Jim came up here half dead. I told you I needed to be down there. I'm the trauma surgeon, not M'Benga. The delay getting the appropriate things done may have caused irreparable damage to Jim." "I have explained myself to you once, Dr. McCoy. I shall not do so again. If that is all you wished to speak about, I shall leave now. " "Wait one damn minute, Mister. I want to know what happened down there. Who brought Jim up to the surface? Who told you he'd be all right? And if you were in contact with an alien consciousness, then you're off duty until I clear you. Or, do you conveniently forget Starfleet regulations when they apply to you?" "There is no equivalent in standard for their name, Dr. McCoy. It would and did take a combination of telepathy and symbols to represent who they are." "Spock, sit down, before you fall down, dammit. Here, drink this. I don't want you falling out in the middle of my sick bay. You look like a damn avocado. " "I fail to see how insulting me can assist in achieving your goal of more information, Dr. McCoy. " "You're right, it probably won't help me, but it sure as heck makes me feel better. You put me through hell up on this ship and brought me back a friend who was almost dead. Part of me wants to punish you for that, Spock, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't take it out on you, at least now. Later, maybe I'll beat you with a sonic wrench. Tell me what happened with Jim and I promise to keep my mouth shut. " "Christine, raise his core temperature by one degree. " "Dr. M'Benga?" "Yes, Ensign Jones. " "The chamber is ready and up to the temperature Dr. McCoy asked for. Do you want to transport the Captain into the chamber now?" "Yes. I'm ready. Christine, get on the other side and Jones, you take his feet. We'll transfer him to the trolley on the count of three. " "Spock, I'm getting older every minute here. When are you going to start telling your story?" " 1 ... 2 ... 3 .... . All right folks, make sure all the lines are secure. Christine, switch him over to the remote monitors. " "He's not heavy at all. I always thought he would weigh more. " "You're not the first to say that, Jones. I think we all assume he's bigger than life and indestructible." "Do you think he'll make it?" "God, I hope so, Ensign." "He'll make it. Leonard and Spock will kill each other trying to make sure he does. " "They're not that bad, Christine." "I'm here all the time, Evans. I know what I'm talking about. I'm not sure who would feel more devastated, Leonard or. . ." "Mr. Spock. . ." "I am thinking, Doctor." "No, you're stalling. Why?" "I can still hear them. It is most disconcerting." "You can still hear who? Will you open your damn mouth? Don't give me your super Vulcan look, I need answers." "Very well. It seems our previous evaluation about the possibilities of intelligent life on the surface was incorrect. We did not take into account the life cycle of the Seadog. I was remiss. I should have pursued the incident at the beach when Jim fell asleep on the Seadog. That was completely unlike him. Unfortunately, I attributed his falling asleep to the alcohol he had imbibed. It was not the alcohol that sedated him, it was contact with the Seadog. The larger Seadog had come up to investigate and he carried with him part of the song. Jim heard it without hearing it." "You hear what, Spock?" "The Song. It takes all of my effort not to hear it. You hear nothing? I hear it even now. I do not understand why I did not hear it earlier. Perhaps they have to reach out to you first, to hear it. That would explain. . ." "All I hear is you not telling me what I want to hear. " "They are enormous. Equivalent to three times the size of the largest sea creature ever known to inhabit your primeval oceans on Earth. As the Seadogs age, those who survive grow larger and larger. At a critical mass, they become aware and profoundly changed. They become part of the Song. They began to sing. Then. . . they sink towards the bottom of the ocean 6,000 m below the surface. Pressures down there are great enough to crush the life out of a human in 1.34 seconds without the protection of a suit. I must surmise the Captain heard the song on a level below consciousness. They had already sung to him once, when he rode the large Seadog on the surface. It pulled him towards them and when they were floating in the darkness of the middle ocean, he donned an EVA suit and went to join the song. "He floated down, rested on the back of an Elder, and entered the song. He became One Who Sings. He swam in the corona of stars, dove into black holes and emerged into new galaxies. It is galaxy without time, limitless space. Doctor, they sail the universe with their minds. They leave the corporeal form here on the bottom of the ocean and make their way through space to touch and taste the stuff of stars. They put everything they have ever passed into a song that has lasted for untold millennium. He hears the Song. I hear the song. I can feel the winds of space pulling me along towards the Orion Nebulae. There is music in the flicker of a solar flare. "It is difficult. "He did not wish to return. The suit was running out of oxygen. His corporeal form was failing. They Who Sing sensed he was dying and returned him to the surface. They did not wish his death to become part of the song. It is possible they never die once they learn to Sing. One who was still mobile returned him to us, but he remains in the song. I cannot touch his mind without touching the song. I will lose myself if I attempt it again. I cannot. . .help him." "Spock. . .Spock. . .look at me!" "I am fatigued." "No, you're almost unconscious. Are you saying that Jim is still under mental influence?" "Yes. He is still in the song. He still sails through space. They could not completely send him away without forever altering the Song. The Song is all. " "It sounds like you are still affected." "I cannot deny the strain inherent in resisting the Song." "Why do you?" "I beg your pardon." "I said, why do you resist it. It sounds just up your alley: exploration without emotional involvement. Why aren't you singing with the best of them?" Jim left, why are you still here?" "If I join the Song, Jim will die. Humans are not meant to leave their bodies in this fashion. His body will cease to function and when it dies, his mind will follow." "Won't you die, also?" "Unknown. Vulcans are. . .different. We are telepaths. It is possible I could endure forever." "I see." "You see what, Doctor?" "Never you mind. What do we do next?" "I. . .do not know." "I do, dammit. Go to bed. I'll check on Jim. You're off duty until further notice. Somehow, we'll figure a way out of this. First, you get some rest and I'll get his bio's up to speed. He's not dying on my watch. I won't have it." "For once, I concur. I can do nothing now. Perhaps when I am better rested. . ." "You are off duty, Spock, and you have been in contact with an alien consciousness. You can't do anything. Go to bed. I'll walk you to your door." "That is not necessary. " "Sue me. Come on." "Where is everybody? Christine! Evans! They must have taken him to the decompression chamber. Who left this log recorder on? Damn, I bet it recorded everything we said. Why people can't follow simple. . ." Into the Song Suite Part 8 Spock's Logs 21 I am changed, inutterably altered. I hear the Song. It is everywhere and I cannot escape. This is illogical. There should be no reason for me to remain aware of the Song of the Elders. I have erected psychic barriers, yet the Song scythes through them like a sandstorm. My defenses are shredded. <... > Jim is in the Song. I can hear the changes he has wrought. It is minuscule to the Elders, but his voice pulls me as surely as a lodestone. I am changed. It is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain myself, my place in this vessel of flesh. Jim calls me. <...> Joy, such joy. He sails among the stars. I can sense his journey. He does not realize it is dangerous. I think he believes he is only dreaming, free of nightmares for once. <...> He calls me ... and if I answer, he will die. I... must ... remain. <...> Space. The science is stimulating. The challenge offers rewards, but it is not sufficient unto itself. The stars are cold numbers, equations, wave particles. Jim feels them. I solely record them. <...> No, concentrate. The Elders can free him. They wish us no harm. If, I can reach them and stay free of the Song, perhaps I can have them free Jim from the Song. They are less dangerous to me than my own Captain. I do not feel joy in the stars. I sought space to find peace and freedom from Vulcan's censure. Jim's voice calls me more loudly than the Elders Song. It is he who connects me to the Song. Computer, do you hear it, can you hear it? <. . .> Illogical. You cannot record telepathic impressions. I am increasingly irrational. I must act quickly, before I no longer can. I will make the request, no, I will beg them. Jim, stop. Please stop. I do not wish to come. You must return. It is not a dream. The Song was reality. Jim. Please return. You will die if you do not return. This is your home, you belong here. N'kya a'tha, Jim. Choose life. Choose. <...> He cannot hear me. The Song was too loud, the voices too many. I must do something. I cannot sit and watch him die. <...> They wish us no harm. Dreaming, they sail the solar winds. We are not their enemies. Now, we are woven into the Song. There, I hear it again. I have tried to record it and cannot. Hear me. I record this in order for you to know why I have acted as I will shortly. This is Lieutenant Commander Spock of the Starship Enterprise NCC 1701. I was second in command of the Enterprise. I consider myself to still be in control of all of my faculties. The Song. Ah, he sings. My Captain does not know he is dying. Wrapped in the music of the stars, he sails further from me as I sit here. They meant to us no harm. To Sing, you are changed. When you are changed, you Sing. Do you not see? They do not know humans die, even though they Sing. My Captain Sings and he will die. I Sing and I may live. This should not be. I do not know how to describe what the Song brings. I see colors which are non descriptive of the reality. Colors should not sing. The galaxies are wave particles whose energy hums. The Elders sing to the tachyon, to the proton, to the Solar winds, to gods of dead worlds, to the Rings of Calista. There is nothing they do not sing of. <...> How could he resist, not knowing he does not dream? He leaves me, the ship, his crew, but only in a dream he thinks. Do not ever believe he abandoned us. He dreams. He dreams. <...> I began this log to ... I must record my thoughts before it is too late. To leave him in the Song is to let him die. I have pledged my life for his, my honor for his. He is my Captain. He calls me even now; thinking it is only dream. Even in the Song, I have not been forgotten. It is true I have meditated, with Jim, under the glow of the stars. I have enjoyed a greater sense of peace at those times. When Jim looks out upon the stars, he radiates an emotion he has described as joy. 'Joy: A state of proud and happy satisfaction.' I am able to define the term. He experiences it. He reaches out with his soul to touch them. I do not do this. Sometimes, I reach out to sense his emotions as it experiences joy. It is allowed; he has given me leave to share his sensations and learn from them. I simply watch Jim as he watches the stars. If I seek the stars when I am alone, it is only to meditate upon A'Tha. I feel a sense of completion at those times, but I do not believe I have ever experienced my own Joy. Joy is illogical. I would not deny Jim, because he seeks that which is illogical. I have never said this before. It is proof of my growing instability. I ramble. That is also a nonsensical statement. Kaadith. I go to bring him back. I go to end his Song. If I succeed, no one will ever hear this. If I fail, I left to do what honor dictated, honor and logic. There is no logic to my Captain dying in the Song. There is no honor in my not making the attempt to rescue him, even if I am lost. I cannot ask you to forgive me. I am not repentant. When I made the pledge to open my senses to his needs, to allow my mind to seek his in order to better know his will, I did not anticipate this occurrence. The Bond I have with T'Pring should have protected me from a new link. Perhaps, it is the absence of my parental Bond which has made me vulnerable to his calls. I did not seek this. I ask forgiveness for this only. It is improper to hear him so clearly without his leave. If we survive, I shall seek his approval of this link. Enough. He cannot hear me. The song is too loud, the voices too many. Mr. Chand, I wish to go to sickbay, now. It's 0135 in the morning, Mr. Spock. My time sense is intact. I'll have to come with you, Sir. I'm sorry, Mr. Spock, those are my orders. As you wish. <. . .> Into the Song Suite Part 9 Doctor's Logs 38 I can't sleep. It's almost 2:00 in a morning and I'm still wide-awake. M'Benga is on duty now, but there's not much for either one of us to do right through here. I hate feeling helpless. I don't want to say this. I think Jim may be dying and I haven't been able to do a damn thing about it. Shit. We've got his core temperature back to baseline and all of his nutritional levels, chemistries and vital signs are normal, and he hasn't batted an eyelid, or moved a limb. We're doing all the work and if we turned off the machines, he'd dwindle down to death. Maybe it would take a day, maybe two, but he'd die. He's unresponsive to painful stimuli, cortical stimuli, or brainstem stimuli. Jim just lays there and ignores everything we do. I'm exhausted. We have two levels and five labs on this ship devoted to science. Folks are working on their own time to find a solution, and nothing we've come up with has worked. I'm back to reviewing the records of the other folks we brought back. Why did they respond to treatment and Jim didn't? We tried getting a recording of the Song on all wavelengths and frequencies, including some I think Uhura invented just for us. Nothing. I'm almost desperate enough to call Jim's strange cousin, Jean Little. She scares the shit out of me, but if she can save Jim, I'll marry her. Unfortunately, he'll probably be dead before we find her. I'm too tired to even have a drink. Anyway, I need a clear head. One taste is all you get tonight, Leonard H.. The rest is for later, to celebrate fixing Jim. <. . .> 56 hours ago, I walked Spock back to his cabin and made sure he went and got in bed. I don't know why I bothered. Either, he's been in here with Jim, or in the lab trying to find out how to wake Jim up. I have no idea how much sleep he's gotten over the last few days. I doubt if he's had enough, but who can blame him? I had Giotto put a guard outside my First Officers cabin and Spock's being watched everywhere he goes. I only let him piss in private. Other than that, I don't trust him as far as I can spit him. It turns out the log tape-recorded everything we said in my office the other day. Spock and I didn't sound like we were on very friendly terms. That, I expected. What was surprising to me was how confused . . . and distant Spock sounded. It . . . scared me a little. Spock being focused is like Jim being in charge, a basic law of the cosmos. Evan and Christine got recorded, too. I never knew Evan was bonded to a Vulcan woman. Maybe that explains why he stayed on Vulcan for so long, why he stayed to learn Vulcan healing. I wonder what it was like. Why would anyone want someone in their head all the time? Well, I'll never ask him about it unless he brings it up. I don't think he meant for me to know. By the way, what did Evan mean about Jim being in Spock's regard? They're friends; that's all. Sometimes, it's hard to believe that anyone could be Spock's friend, but there's no accounting for taste. The last thing Jim needs is another case of hero worship, especially from his First Officer. Jim can do that to a person, make them put him up on a pedestal, make him something he's not. He's just a man like the rest of us with dicks. Yeah, I know he's smart and brave, loyal and conscientious, etc., but he's no frigging Boyscout. Hell, who would've ever guessed a Vulcan would contract a case of Hero Worship. I wonder if they have a phrase like that in their vocabulary. Spock was probably so starved for attention and affection, that Jim was like a revelation. If the idiot would try to integrate his warring halves, he might get another friend or two, But he's so busy being a reverse racist, he cuts out the rest of us. I know there's nothing else Evan could be talking about. Jim doesn't do men. I've seen men ask and I've seen him always say no. I think it has something to do with Tarsus, but I can't verify it. Why do I think that? Because Jim will screw an Aldebaran trisexual, but he won't look at a Human male, except to command them, or fight them. Even his friends aren't exempt. He's the top dog and nobody is his equal. I don't fool myself that Jim can have a relationship of equals. The only reason Spock and I work so well with him is because we know he's in Command, and he knows we know it. Sick, ain't it? Anyway, Jim would never screw a member of his crew, male or female. He didn't do that when he wasn't a captain. Too much conflict of interest for him, I guess. I think that's the only reason he and Uhura aren't an item. I see the way he looks at her. Damn, I see the way I look at her. The only het male on this ship who doesn't lust after Uhura is Spock, and I'm not certain Vulcans are het, bi or anything in between. There isn't any information on their sexual proclivities anywhere I can find. That shit is shut up tighter than Fort World Knox or an Alpha Centaurian Virgin Cult Priestess' you know what. No matter what the folks say or think about it, Jim keeps his trouser snake caged on board his own ship. God, what am I thinking? Spock would be the last person to lust after Jim. Damn, what a strange train of thought. I wonder what brought that on. Stress makes a man think weird things. Stress also gives me a particularly foul mouth. I wonder why? I don't think Spock and I would kill each other trying to save Jim, no matter what Christine says. I'd like to think we work well together, at least when Jim is in danger. I'd be lying to myself, but I'd like to think it. Maybe I'll call a truce with the Vulcan, and let him know I won't fight him if we need to work together for Jim's sake. I mean, dammit, I let him out of his cabin to do research, didn't I? That's against regs. He should be totally confined to his cabin, so I'm trying. I know there isn't anybody on this ship who will work harder to save Jim, so it's a good decision. He may be inscrutable for everything else but that. I'm so tired I stopped making sense hours ago. I need some sleep. I'll think about this after a few hours of rest. That's enough for you, Lady log. Leonard! He's gone, and he took the Captain! Fuck, fuck, fuck! How long and where? I don't know. I've been out of Sickbay for over two hours. I was in the lab looking at those wave resonance results and when I came back, Jones was in a closet, out cold along with Chand. The system alarms were bypassed and the Captain was gone. We both know it was Spock. How the hell could he have gotten down a hall full of people? It's 0215, there aren't more than a few folks in the halls around this time. He used the Vulcan nerve pinch on both of them. Chand, at least, should've known better than to let Spock near him. Fucking Idiot. I paged Giotto already. Good. Damn, Spock even took a portable life support pack. Double Fuck! Bridge! Where's Scotty? Did anybody beam off this ship or use a shuttle in the last hour? Damn. Get me Mr. Scott and patch him through to sickbay, stat. Damn, damn, damn. Leonard, you know Spock wouldn't hurt the Captain. I don't know a damn thing, Evan, except I bet the reclamation team is out cold in a closet somewhere, too. Spock's been acting stranger than I've ever seen him act. We don't know he isn't going down there to join the damn Song. Wake those two up while I go get an emergency pack together. Let Scotty know what we think. Keep it quiet, Evan. We don't want anyone to shoot the damn fool by mistake and hit Jim. They may both still be on board, though odds are against it. Okay, Leonard. Leonard! What? Look, this behavior Spock's exhibiting, it's. . . We don't have all day, dammit, talk! Leonard, it could be normative for Vulcans, especially in certain situations. Fuck normative behavior, Evan, he took my patient out of my sickbay. His ass is mine. Fuck! Crazy fucking Vulcan. I'll serve him up rare if he ends up killing Jim. Goddammit, how many times do I have to turn this damn log off! Into the Song Suite Part 10 Spock's Logs 22 I hear it flowing through my essence, giving music to the stars. I hear them sing notes without sounds, in voices without utterance. They are old, beyond my comprehension, old and not of this world. Here they landed, back in the mists of time and made their place in the abyss, in the deepest seas. No-one who has come has stayed. None that have seen have heard. . .until now. We see them, hear them, sing the Song in our meager voices, weak but audible and they rejoice in our voices. Do you not understand: to Sing is all? Those who Sing are changed and those who change, hear the Song. < . . .> I will continue to dictate this Log. It may be all I leave behind. Understand, I wish my Captain no harm. I do what I must. I ask forgiveness for disabling Lt. Chand and Ensign Jones. It was necessary. Kaadith. If I survive this encounter, I shall address the gaps in our security which allowed me to take my unconscious Captain from Sickbay to the Shuttle Bay. I believe a coded lock on the access tunnels would prevent unauthorized access by restricted personnel. I should not have been able to remove him from Sickbay and succeed in reaching the Shuttle. I also will make sure that only crew coded for egress shall have access to the shuttle bay. Any precautions I take will not prevent my captain, or myself and Mr. Scott, from circumventing them, but others will be slowed. My captain is in the rear cabin. I have attached his monitors to the portable Life Pack. The batteries will last as long as I will require, so I may do what I must. I must call the Elders to the surface. I must plead with them to pull Jim back. I must convince them that he is not changed, even though he Sings. Ah . . .he flies past a binary star and dives into the corona of the child, then he skims along a flare of the parent. Stars: parent and child, they sing together as one. I see. . .life unimaginable, in the heart of a star, it lives and thinks fiery thoughts. Life. Jim . . .touches it, hears its song. Freedom, he sings of freedom and the joy of discovery. He dreams. . . he thinks. . . and does in his dream what he would will us to do in his ship. . ..if he could. I lifted him from the Biobed, and his head fell against my chest. I felt. . .fear that I had chosen the wrong path. My word, my honor. . .I would never harm him. Never. McCoy will be incensed. I ask forgiveness, Doctor, but the cause was sufficient. The Song grows loud in my head. I am landing on the surface of the water, at the place we recovered Jim. Forgive me, Captain Kirk, this is a Log and it is not proper to address a superior officer by their first name in an official recording. I erred. The Song clouds my mind. I will set the inertial dampers to maintain station exactly two meters above the surface. I begin the call. If I am drawn into the Song and lose my way, I regret my weakness. The Captain will die, if this occurs. < . . . > Leave us both here, on this world. We do not belong on our worlds of birth. Our home is space. If the soul exists, we both will fly in the Song, forever. Jim, Captain Kirk, we must go to the door. We will wait for the Elders. I am disconnecting you from the monitors. We live or die in this time, as we came into this reality, shorn of everything but ourselves. A'tha azh kyani. I call. wwisshaalomnaaaaijsssuthanjhussmmannigwanndoathaanmmkas adommmithanjuubnnsjjwhhaujjkkwakwwanmdsimmmdishllmLLLLMIHOSH AJNnkanlsaNLJL;loajsakjlkjLKJLIJUPJnlknlsklkjlkIAAopljpl;Jpp ojpjpo;l;k;k;(PUU(GSUYATYGGLIJIIH:IHH:IYUYH:KASGHLUytggdashg dsuaYGUIGDUIGYUIgbjlgsdyuUUtgsuyytdyughGSJDGSYGTShgUITDSYAIY ISAGJHGSDUYzaguysFSIU7ytisfigsadgjzxgUDFYSFgtudystuoTFYDSFYS DFGyzgudygfYDG wusuiksadkLJHLKUDKUSGauigiugilUGHIUGHIughiughilukgiluGHIUGIU GIUGHIUGHIUGIUHGIughyiugiugiughiluhiluHYIULYHIUYHIUYHIUYHILU HIUHIULHuilyhiluhiulGSIWEOUEOUOIPuojhsoHJSKHCKSLJAisuxyycva9 Iye98euSYHDIUSHAhisuhgiuhILUXZdiuSAYiusaYIUFYIUShcIUSAY978fy dsSYYFIUYDSiouyiuyiuyiuyhxiuzhciuYY789Y978YIUYIUYIUsyiuyfdiu ydfiue98w9e809YEEKSADHFkjhkluydfkuyUKSYUILYFHVGXZCBVLIRGHSFM JBXCIdasjgxzouivsadhbvmnAsuytiytxcvgsdhfgjkSD77YFIUADFHGVXZM CVYUgiugcxvhzxgfdixlyfsahfsduiUIYFDghdjlfgtyasdijsdgfjhgzxci uyejgsjscxtyausiaydusaiodfe7ywYIUSDFYisduhxciuIUYDFSUBXC Yuiiy wwisshaalomnaaaaijsssuthanjhussmmannigwanndoathaanmmkas adommmithanjuubnnsjjwhhaujjkkwakwwanmdsimmmdishllmLLLLMIHOSH AJNnkanlsaNLJL;loajsakjlkjLKJLIJUPJnlknlsklkjlkIAAopljpl;Jpp ojpjpo;l;k;k;(PUU(GSUYATYGGLIJIIH:IHH:IYUYH:KASGHLUytggdashg dsuaYGUIGDUIGYUIgbjlgsdyuUUtgsuyytdyughGSJDGSYGTShgUITDSYAIY ISAGJHGSDUYzaguysFSIU7ytisfigsadgjzxgUDFYSFgtudystuoTFYDSFYS DFGyzgudygfYDGjjIMjIM jiAMS Jim jaiMAIJSiajsiamsmJim Jima sjaojsaisjIJIAJS Kairk JiajIS kIKaijsio Kirk ijhIJpsj aJSHIjijJim Kirk asuohas0ds Jmakes Jmaes KkiJISKirk Ah. Come. Hear me. I sing. I SINNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGG! Mr. Spock! This is Scotty. There is a disturbance under the Shuttle. Mr. Spock move the shuttle! Mr. Spock, please respond. Respond! Goddamn you, Spock. Answer us. Bring my patient back! Mr. Spock, turn off the signal inhibitor. We need to beam you out. I repeat, there are two life-forms approaching you from below. Mr. Spock! They are huge! Mr. Spock! Lt. Chand, position us over the shuttle access hatch on top. We can get into it from there since the transporters and remote control won't work. Closer, closer. Chand, we're through the outer access panel. I'll leave the com link open. Okay, prepare for transfer of personnel. Lt. Chand keep this ship close enough for me to spit on it. We are going to grab them and come back up through the access panel. Yes, Sir, Mr. Scott. Giotto, only use the phaser if you absolutely have to. Captain Kirk may not survive even a light stun in his condition. I understand, Dr. McCoy. We'll go in first, Mr. Scott. Neither one of you have a chance of subduing a full grown Vulcan. Security is trained to do this, and we're wearing the right stuff for it. These dive suits are battle ready and you're not, if you pardon my honesty, Sir. Vera Well. Do it, but don't hurt the lads, if you can help yourself. ISingwwisshaalomnaaaaijsssuthanjhussmmannigwanndoathaanmmkas adommmithanjuubnnsjjwhhaujjkkwakwwanmdsimmmdishllmLLLLMIHOSH AJNnkanlsaNLJL;loajsakjlkjLKJLIJUPJnlknlsklkjlkIAAopljpl;Jpp ojpjpo;l;k;k;(PUU(GSUYATYGGLIJIIH:IHH:IYUYH:KASGHLUytggdashg dsuaYGUIGDUIGYUIgbjlgsdyuUUtgsuyytdyughGSJDGSYGTShgUITDSYAIY ISAGJHGSDUYzaguysFSIU7ytisfigsadgjzxgUDFYSFgtudystuoTFYDSFYS DFGyzgudygfYDGjjIMjIM jiAMS Jim jaiMAIJSiajsiamsmJim Jima sjaojsaisjIJIAJS Kairk JiajIS kIKaijsio Kirk ijhIJpsj aJSHIjijJim Kirk asuohas0ds Jmakes Jmaes KkiJISKirk Depressurization normal. Inner access panel opening. Preparing to transfer crew. Mr. Spock? Spock! Damn, the man jumped. There, in the water, Giotto, get down there! Get them! Enterprise, you have our location. We have four men in the water. Lock on to them! Enterprise responding. Negative, unable to lock on, Sir. We are getting too much signal interference. What do you mean you can't lock on to them? Get Sanders down there to help you. Giotto, are you receiving me? Dammit. Lt. Chand, move your shuttle down towards them. Get weapons on-line. We can't get a lock from the transporter room. Something is breaking up the signal. Mr. Scott, it's too late. Look at that. Oh. . .my. . .God. < rummmmmmmmmmmmmmmbbbbbbbbbblllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeee> Jesus H. Christ, Scotty. I've never seen the like, Doctor. Mr. Chand, target the beasts. Don't fire until I give you word, Mr. Scott, targeting computer is unresponsive. < . . .> What else? Mr. Scott, all systems are now unresponsive and we have lost contact with the ship. Damn. Scotty, do you see any of them? No, Dr. McCoy, all I see is that . . . thing. The Mountain has come to Muhammad. I will be damned. Where are they? I can't see Jim, Spock or the divers. I don't have a blasted clue, Dr. McCoy, and none of the sensors are working. Chand, see if you can use the manual air jets to move your shuttle further away. The last thing we need is for us to collide and all hit the water. Manual controls are functioning. I am positioning the shuttle fifty meters above you. We have sufficient battery power for twenty minutes of manual function. There's the other one coming to the surface, Dr. McCoy. Can you feel the air? It's supercharged. Mr. Scott, the shuttle's sensors are back on line and we have life forms approaching from all directions. What are they, Chand? Seadogs, hundreds of them, all sizes, but none as large as what you see in front of you. Scotty, oh my God, do you hear it? I can hear it now. Do you hear it? ISingwwisshaalomnaaaaijsssuthanjhussmmannigwanndoathaanmmkas adommmithanjuubnnsjjwhhaujjkkwakwwanmdsimmmdishllmLLLLMIHOSH AJNnkanlsaNLJL;loajsakjlkjLKJLIJUPJnlknlsklkjlkIAAopljpl;Jpp ojpjpo;l;k;k;(PUU(GSUYATYGGLIJIIH:IHH:IYUYH:KASGHLUytggdashg dsuaYGUIGDUIGYUIgbjlgsdyuUUtgsuyytdyughGSJDGSYGTShgUITDSYAIY ISAGJHGSDUYzaguysFSIU7ytisfigsadgjzxgUDFYSFgtudystuoTFYDSFYS DFGyzgudygfYDGjjIMjIM jiAMSpockJim jaiMAIJSiajsiamsmJimJimasjaojsaisjIJIAJS KairkJiajISkIKaijsioKirkijhIJpsj aJSHIjijJimKirkasuohas0dspockJmakespockJmaespockKkiJISKirk Look, Mr. Scott, on the biggest one. Can you see them? All four of them are in that skin fold. That's Giotto moving now. He's going towards the Captain. What's that? The mountain just hit us in the ass. It looks like we're on its surface. I hope it doesn't mind. Let's go. Bring your equipment, Doctor. If we live, you'll need it. Doctor, grab that environmental belt over there, just in case. It'll give you 15 minutes of protection underwater; longer than that, you're toast. I really hate this. I'm gonna kill that pointy eared, green- skinned, idiot for making me have to walk on a frigging living whale-a-saurus. Be careful, Leonard, the skin is wet and verra slippery. < . . .> Into the Song Suite Part 11 Title: Spock's Logs 23 "Alright, Leonard, we are going to have to go across the surface of this beastie until we reach the Giotto. He's at 70 degrees north and 20 degrees east of us. I read the distance at 2.5k m before we lost sight of him." "This thing is as big as a damn Island and, wet too. "Generally speaking, your right, but no sense fretting about what we can't change. Let's go." wusuiksadkLJHLKUDKUSGauigiugilUGHIUGHIughiughilukgiluGHIUGIU GIUGHIUGHIUGIUHGIughyiugiugiughiluhiluHYIULYHIUYHIUYHIUYHILU HIUHIULHuilyhiluhiulGSIWEOUEOUOIPuojhsoHJSKHCKSLJAisuxyycva9 Iye98euSYHDIUSHAhisuhgiuhILUXZdiuSAYiusaYIUFYIUShcIUSAY978fy dsSYYFIUYDSiouyiuyiuyiuyhxiuzhciuYY789Y978YIUYIUYIUsyiuyfdiu ydfiue98w9e809YEEKSADHFkjhkluydfkuyUKSYUILYFHVGXZCBVLIRGHSFM JBXCIdasjgxzouivsadhbvmnAsuytiytxcvgsdhfgjkSD77YFIUADFHGVXZM CVYUgiugcxvhzxgfdixlyfsahfsduiUIYFDghdjlfgtyasdijsdgfjhgzxci uyejgsjscxtyausiaydusaiodfe7ywYIUSDFYisduhxciuIUYDFSUBXC Yuiiy "The noise is getting louder. Chand, are you reading this?" "Yes, Sir. I'm still reading you." "Good, keep this line open. None of us can communicate with the Enterprise. We'll use the up-link from our communicators to the Galileo and route it to your shuttle. We may be able to keep in contact with two systems boosting the signal. At least we can hear you now. " "Yes, Sir. Do you want me to move in closer?" "No, Laddy, but you come running if we call for you. " "Scotty, I don't like this. How do we know this beast isn't going to sink with us on top of it?" "We don't. If you want to leave, get back in the shuttle, Doctor. I've got to go get the Captain and Mr. Spock. " "Hell no, I'm not talking about leaving. I'm just saying I don't like this. Where are all those critters that are on the way here?" "Chand, how far are the Seadogs and how long do we have before they get here?" "They are moving at 35k m/hr and you have. . .less than 7 minutes if they maintain speed. " "Message received. Can you contact Giotto yet?" "No, Sir." "Verra well. Maybe once we get closer, he can hear us. He and Chavez are moving towards Spock and the Captain now. Keep working on making contact with the Enterprise. Try boosting the signal some more with the auxiliary generator." "Yes, Sir." wusuiksadkLJHLKUDKUSGauigiugilUGHIUGHIughiughilukgiluGHIUGIU GIUGHIUGHIUGIUHGIughyiugiugiughiluhiluHYIULYHIUYHIUYHIUYHILU HIUHIULHuilyhiluhiulGSIWEOUEOUOIPuojhsoHJSKHCKSLJAisuxyycva9 Iye98euSYHDIUSHAhisuhgiuhILUXZdiuSAYiusaYIUFYIUShcIUSAY978fy dsSYYFIUYDSiouyiuyiuyiuyhxiuzhciuYY789Y978YIUYIUYIUsyiuyfdiu ydfiue98w9e809YEEKSADHFkjhkluydfkuyUKSYUILYFHVGXZCBVLIRGHSFM JBXCIdasjgxzouivsadhbvmnAsuytiytxcvgsdhfgjkSD77YFIUADFHGVXZM CVYUgiugcxvhzxgfdixlyfsahfsduiUIYFDghdjlfgtyasdijsdgfjhgzxci uyejgsjscxtyausiaydusaiodfe7ywYIUSDFYisduhxciuIUYDFSUBXC Yuiiy "Scotty, this singing noise is really getting on my damn nerves." "I find it to be rather relaxing really. Watch your step, there. There's something moving over the surface to your right. It wouldn't do to step on this beastie's nose or the like." "I can't see them." "They're in that direction, over the little hill." wusuiksadkLJHLKUDKUSGauigiugilUGHIUGHIughiughilukgiluGHIUGIU GIUGHIUGHIUGIUHGIughyiugiugiughiluhiluHYIULYHIUYHIUYHIUYHILU HIUHIULHuilyhiluhiulGSIWEOUEOUOIPuojhsoHJSKHCKSLJAisuxyycva9 Iye98euSYHDIUSHAhisuhgiuhILUXZdiuSAYiusaYIUFYIUShcIUSAY978fy dsSYYFIUYDSiouyiuyiuyiuyhxiuzhciuYY789Y978YIUYIUYIUsyiuyfdiu ydfiue98w9e809YEEKSADHFkjhkluydfkuyUKSYUILYFHVGXZCBVLIRGHSFM JBXCIdasjgxzouivsadhbvmnAsuytiytxcvgsdhfgjkSD77YFIUADFHGVXZM CVYUgiugcxvhzxgfdixlyfsahfsduiUIYFDghdjlfgtyasdijsdgfjhgzxci uyejgsjscxtyausiaydusaiodfe7ywYIUSDFYisduhxciuIUYDFSUBXC Yuiiy "How big is this damn thing?" "Well, let's just say, it's big enough to plant crops on and leave it at that. " "There, there, I just saw something move. . . come on!" "Doctor! Chand, keep us up to date about the Seadogs. The Doctor has gotten his second wind. If they are too close and you can't contact us, shoot off a laser flare." "Yes, Sir. Your signal is steady for now. As long as I stay within a 2 km radius, you are clear." "Then stay that close. I have to go. Yon Doctor is sprinting for the Captain. I didn't know he could run that fast." "I'm going to kill that damn Vulcan." "Well, you need to reach him first, Doctor. Don't tucker yourself out running full out, do a steady jog." wusuiksadkLJHLKUDKUSGauigiugilUGHIUGHIughiughilukgiluGHIUGIU GIUGHIUGHIUGIUHGIughyiugiugiughiluhiluHYIULYHIUYHIUYHIUYHILU HIUHIULHuilyhiluhiulGSIWEOUEOUOIPuojhsoHJSKHCKSLJAisuxyycva9 Iye98euSYHDIUSHAhisuhgiuhILUXZdiuSAYiusaYIUFYIUShcIUSAY978fy dsSYYFIUYDSiouyiuyiuyiuyhxiuzhciuYY789Y978YIUYIUYIUsyiuyfdiu ydfiue98w9e809YEEKSADHFkjhkluydfkuyUKSYUILYFHVGXZCBVLIRGHSFM JBXCIdasjgxzouivsadhbvmnAsuytiytxcvgsdhfgjkSD77YFIUADFHGVXZM CVYUgiugcxvhzxgfdixlyfsahfsduiUIYFDghdjlfgtyasdijsdgfjhgzxci uyejgsjscxtyausiaydusaiodfe7ywYIUSDFYisduhxciuIUYDFSUBXC Yuiiy "Giotto?" "Yes, Sir." "We're just over the rise. We'll be there in a few seconds. Have you reached them yet?" "Yes. Sir. They're both unresponsive, and . . .the Captain looks bad. I can barely get a pulse." "Giotto, can you get him hooked up to the life pack?" "No, Dr. McCoy, there isn't one anywhere near him. If he had one on, It's gone." "Shit. I have an extra one. I'm on the way." "There. I see them and that music finally stopped. " "Move to the other side, Giotto." "Mr. Scott, this is Chand. The creatures have accelerated. You have three minutes." "I read you, Chand. Doctor. . ." "I heard him, damn it. Jim's vitals are dropping off the scale. We can't move him yet. Give me the life-pack." "Mr. Scott, do you feel that?" "The thing's moving. Dr. McCoy, We need to go. Now!" "One second." "Okay, he's on. Everything's going back up. Let's go. Who's carrying Spock?" "We have, Mr. Spock. Let's move, gentleman. Chand?" "Chand?" "No response. We'll wait until we clear the rise and try again." "There's a flare. The Seadogs are close." "Chand, do you read me?" "Chand, do you read me?" "Mr. Scott, I lost your signal for a moment. They're coming from all sides. You're cut off from the shuttle. I repeat; you are cut off from the shuttle. I will bring the Atlantis in to you to pick you up. " "Negative, you don't have enough battery power to bring it to us, land, and lift off with the increased load." "I can do it, Sir. I know I can. There are more of them coming up out of the water every second. You can not get through them to the shuttle. Do you see them yet?" "Oh, my God." "We see them." "I'm moving the shuttle." "It's too late, Laddy. We're surrounded." "Sir, what do you want to do?" "Maybe, if you fire at the ones between us and the shuttle, we can. . ." "No! They aren't hurting us. Remember one of the big ones brought Jim back to the surface. Wait, see what they want." "Sir..." "We don't want to start a fight with Jim and Spock both unconscious." "Good point, Doctor. Chavez, let's put Mr. Spock down and take up your position over there. If we need to move fast, you cover me, and I'll carry him. " "The Doctor's right, Giotto. We can always shoot. Let's see what the beasties want." "Very well, but if they make any aggressive moves, I request permission to fire." "Permission granted. What are they waiting for?" "Who the hell are you asking? Maybe they're waiting for the 'soups on' bell to ring." "They are herbivores, Doctor." "Your flights of fancy are needlessly distracting." "Spock!" "Mr. Spock, how are you feeling?" "Curious as to how you got here and how we became surrounded by the Seadogs, Mr. Scott, but otherwise, I am well. How is the Captain?" "Alive, no thanks to you, damn you." "Fortunately, I do not have the time or energy to argue with you, Doctor. Here they come." "Wait, Giotto. Don't fire yet." "Mr. Scott. . ." "Mr. Giotto, now would not be a good time to shoot. They are attempting to communicate." "My head is throbbing." "Mine too. What the hell is that?" "Sir, I am hearing something, a noise, a humming sound." "You are hearing the faintest echo of the Song, Mr. Giotto." wusuiksadkLJHLKUDKUSGauigiugilUGHIUGHIughiughilukgiluGHIUGIU GIUGHIUGHIUGIUHGIughyiugiugiughiluhiluHYIULYHIUYHIUYHIUYHILU HIUHIULHuilyhiluhiulGSIWEOUEOUOIPuojhsoHJSKHCKSLJAisuxyycva9 Iye98euSYHDIUSHAhisuhgiuhILUXZdiuSAYiusaYIUFYIUShcIUSAY978fy dsSYYFIUYDSiouyiuyiuyiuyhxiuzhciuYY789Y978YIUYIUYIUsyiuyfdiu ydfiue98w9e809YEEKSADHFkjhkluydfkuyUKSYUILYFHVGXZCBVLIRGHSFM JBXCIdasjgxzouivsadhbvmnAsuytiytxcvgsdhfgjkSD77YFIUADFHGVXZM CVYUgiugcxvhzxgfdixlyfsahfsduiUIYFDghdjlfgtyasdijsdgfjhgzxci uyejgsjscxtyausiaydusaiodfe7ywYIUSDFYisduhxciuIUYDFSUBXC Yuiiy "I'll be damned. That noise is coming from them. Are all of those things making that sound?" "It appears so." "It's too loud!" "I do not believe we have any choice but to tolerate the decibels, Doctor. They are moving closer. Do not make any threatening gestures." "Us make threatening gestures! We're in the middle of the damn ocean surrounded by singing seals, floating on the biggest damn hairball I've ever seen and you tell us not to threaten them?" "Dr. McCoy, at least we're still breathing." "Hmmph, how close are they going to get?" "Mr. Scott!" "Stand-by, Chand. We are fine for now." "You may be fine, Scotty, but I have a damn waterdog breathing seaweed in my face." "Thank-you for that insight, Doctor. Wait, do you hear that? Do you hear that, Chand? The Song has changed." "I am getting the signal, Mr. Scott." "Put it through the Universal translator, Mr. Chand." "Is that you, Mr. Spock?" "Yes, Mr. Chand. Use the program that combines harmonic communication scales." "Yes, Sir. I'm putting it through the translator. We're getting a translation. . .now. Patching it though." "OLD SING SONG SING SONG HEAT ENDS OLD SONG SING SONG" "Mr. Chand, send this through the translation program." "Ready, Mr. Spock." "Heat ends. Song Ends. Heat not world. youngling heat. Song not heat. Heat not Song. Heat youngling, not Song. Sings not Song. Heat not sing not world. Song Old not heat not old." "Send that. Mr. Chand." "What the hell is that. . ." "Shush, Doctor. Let him speak." "HEAT ENDS SONG NOT SING YOUNGLING SINGS HEAT SONG" "Heat hears Song sings Song Heat not world Song ends youngling heat Sings not song Heat not world youngling not sing not Song not sing" "YOUNGLINGS NOT SONG NOT SING NOT HEAT YOUNGLING HEAT NOT SING NOT SONG" "Heat youngling." "HEAT SING." "Heat youngling. Not sing world" "SONG ENDS" "Heat ends Song Sings heat sings heat ends" "HEAT YOUNGLING" "Heat youngling." "YOUNGLING NO SING" "Youngling no sing heat no sing heat no world" "HEAT NO WORLD NO SONG SONG ENDS HEAT." wusuiksadkLJHLKUDKUSGauigiugilUGHIUGHIughiughilukgiluGHIUGIU GIUGHIUGHIUGIUHGIughyiugiugiughiluhiluHYIULYHIUYHIUYHIUYHILU HIUHIULHuilyhiluhiulGSIWEOUEOUOIPuojhsoHJSKHCKSLJAisuxyycva9 Iye98euSYHDIUSHAhisuhgiuhILUXZdiuSAYiusaYIUFYIUShcIUSAY978fy dsSYYFIUYDSiouyiuyiuyiuyhxiuzhciuYY789Y978YIUYIUYIUsyiuyfdiu ydfiue98w9e809YEEKSADHFkjhkluydfkuyUKSYUILYFHVGXZCBVLIRGHSFM JBXCIdasjgxzouivsadhbvmnAsuytiytxcvgsdhfgjkSD77YFIUADFHGVXZM CVYUgiugcxvhzxgfdixlyfsahfsduiUIYFDghdjlfgtyasdijsdgfjhgzxci uyejgsjscxtyausiaydusaiodfe7ywYIUSDFYisduhxciuIUYDFSUBXC Yuiiy "Scotty, Jim's lifepack alarm is going off. Get us back to the ship!" "Heat not end heat not sing song not end." wusuiksadkLJHLKUDKUSGauigiugilUGHIUGHIughiughilukgiluGHIUGIU GIUGHIUGHIUGIUHGIughyiugiugiughiluhiluHYIULYHIUYHIUYHIUYHILU HIUHIULHuilyhiluhiulGSIWEOUEOUOIPuojhsoHJSKHCKSLJAisuxyycva9 Iye98euSYHDIUSHAhisuhgiuhILUXZdiuSAYiusaYIUFYIUShcIUSAY978fy dsSYYFIUYDSiouyiuyiuyiuyhxiuzhciuYY789Y978YIUYIUYIUsyiuyfdiu ydfiue98w9e809YEEKSADHFkjhkluydfkuyUKSYUILYFHVGXZCBVLIRGHSFM JBXCIdasjgxzouivsadhbvmnAsuytiytxcvgsdhfgjkSD77YFIUADFHGVXZM CVYUgiugcxvhzxgfdixlyfsahfsduiUIYFDghdjlfgtyasdijsdgfjhgzxci uyejgsjscxtyausiaydusaiodfe7ywYIUSDFYisduhxciuIUYDFSUBXC Yuiiy HEAT NOT END "I'll be damned. His vitals are coming back to baseline." "Mr. Scott! The Seadogs have started to leave and the big one you are on is starting to sink, fast. " "Got it, Chand. Let's move." "Chavez, pick up the Captain." "No, I have him Mr. Giotto." "Okay, let's move out, Mr. Spock, this island is getting wet." "Put him in the berth in the back. I'll stay back there with him." "Mr. Scott, close the hatch. Do we have enough power to take off?" "We don't have a lot left but we don't have any choice. We're sinking fast." "Mr. Chand, can you signal the Enterprise yet?" "No, Sir." "Very well. We will attempt to attain orbit. Follow us as close as safety will permit. Mr. Scott, shutdown all non- essential systems and redirect life support to the auxiliary engines." "Done." "Initiating lift-off." "20 meters, Mr. Spock." "200 meters" "1000 meters" "The interference is dissipating. The main engines are coming on line." "Shuttle Galileo, this is the Enterprise. Are you receiving us?" "Enterprise, this is the shuttle Galileo. Shuttle Atlantis is intact and following." "Mr. Spock?" "Yes, Lt. Uhura, it is I." "The Captain?" "Alive." "Thank God." "We will be arriving in. . .8.36 minutes. Have a medical team ready at the Shuttlebay." "Yes, Sir." "Spock." "Yes, Dr. McCoy?" "You might want to come back here. Jim is calling your name. God knows why, considering you almost killed him." "He is. . ." "Not awake, but he's coming around." "I. . ." "Mr. Spock, I am quite able to land a wee shuttle. Go on, Lad." "Call me if you require my assistance, Mr. Scott." "That I will, but I don't think I'll be calling you." "Chand, you still there?" "Yes, Sir. All systems are on line and humming." "Alright, Chand. I'm going to go to intra-ship and turn off the up-link. We don't need it anymore. Everybody is on their way home. By the way, good job Lad. We can cut the scrubbing of the engines by hand to just one week, and you can use a regular brush." "Uh, thanks, Sir. Chand out." Into the Song Suite Part 12 Spock's Logs 23 I know you are expecting a missive from your brother, Jim. He was rather agitated about your level of worry should you not get a timely response to your last letter. I have assured him that I would write you and my assurance allowed him to rest. As you have no doubt already concluded, Jim has had an adventure. He is in Sickbay and resting. McCoy will not allow him to dictate any letters or write anything for the next few days. Therefore, he is unable to respond to your query. I, for once, concur with the doctor's orders. We will be taking a short leave in 31.4 days, if things go as anticipated. He will meet you where ever it is convenient, as long as it is range of a Diplomatic Shuttle. I am honored you included me in the invitation and will also be in attendance. It is my desire that this letter finds you and your family in the best of health and possession of a harmonious spirit. Hopefully, my news of Jim's recent incident will not unduly worry you. He is doing well. I am told, using this encryption method, I am able to give you more details than is usually possible. I congratulate your family on the device. It is most circumspect and ingenious. I have never seen its like. Also, the code is extremely challenging and given its randomness, it would have been excessively challenging for even one such as myself to decode. Forgive me if I digressed. Jim and seven of our crew were on the other side of the planet doing deep water sampling, when we lost contact with their vessel. As you know, Starships are equipped with small vessels which are stored in the shuttle Hanger. This allows us to go as deep as your deepest ocean fault on Earth, your Marianas Trench. After the vacuum of space, and the challenge of warp-speeds, deep sea research has become routine. Perhaps it is my fault Jim was lost. I will accept any approbation he wishes to place upon me. It was my impression this planet held no intelligent life forms. The closest thing to intelligence I had seen was the pod behavior of the characters your brother had affectionately named, "Seadogs ". They were playful, fearless, and the crew had taken to swimming with them. Jim, as you can imagine, found this to be extremely stimulating and spent hours in that activity on his off shifts. He was wont to play fetch with his favorite ones, and named them: "Mutt and Jeff". When he wanted them to come to him, he would sing a song called "Sandman Blues". I am told it was a favorite of your Grandfather's. Jim says he would sing to the Horses at night to clam them. It was his Song that I suspect was at the root of it all. To Sing is to Dream. I shall explain. We, or rather, I was certain there were no large predators in the seas. It was obvious there were no land-based predators. In a sense, I was correct on both counts. When we lost track of the vessel containing our crew and captain, we immediately went to an alert status. All the away teams were recalled and security team was dispatched to the vicinity of the last signals. We were equipped with deep water suits. They allow one to exit the vessel and search in self-propelled, powered, armored suits. All of my previous conclusions were incorrect. There is intelligent, ancient, powerful, and mysterious life on this world. We must depart and never return. It is their wish that we leave them in peace. Samuel, the intellect of the beings on this world is amazing. Intelligence increases exponentially with age and size. The "Seadogs" are infants, floating and frolicking in ancient seas without foe or fear. As they age, those that survive grow larger and larger, and make fewer excursions to the surface, or the sun. In the deep, light descends towards the eternal dark of the ocean floors and paradoxically it is when the light from above is extinguished, that the light within begins to shine forth. On the ocean's bottom, behemoths twice the size of the sperm whale, rest on the ocean floor, warmed by thermal vents from the planet's core. They weave a living dream, a tapestry of realities and concepts too alien for land-based, circumscribed intellects to grasp. I have touched a living dream and I was humbled by it. Jim bathed in it and wished to drift away on its current. The members of exploratory craft heard/saw/felt the dream and floated unawares. When we finally found them, they were sleeping in profound innocence. All floated, seemingly unawares, except Jim. He does not recall how or why he did what he did. I suspect he answered the same call he has always heard. He wished to see and know that which was unknown and make it familiar. Your brother is ... possessed of an unquenchable thirst for experience and adventure. Hearing/feeling/sensing the dream, he donned an EVA suit, left the vehicle, and settled towards the ocean's bottom onto the back of one of the creatures. He doesn't recall doing so. They heard his song dying in the dreaming and knew he needed to be returned to the light above. We were understandably concerned when we found the shuttle with everyone aboard except the Captain. Fortunately, I sensed the dream before we were close enough to be drawn into it. We used a remote-controlled device to direct the shuttle to the surface. Dr. McCoy was beside himself, of course, when we discovered Jim was not among the crew. I left him on-board the ship. I find Dr. McCoy's rigid dislike of telepathy to be an impediment to my function. He is still angry with me. Suddenly, the sea beneath the rescue team began to churn. The air around us grew turbulent and we were forced to use inertial dampers to maintain our positions. The sea life which had swum lazily to and fro around us seconds before, vanished. I ordered the shuttles and the security teams to evacuate the area immediately. I did not wish to lose anyone else will. I heard it distinctly. A voice in my head called out to me. There were no words, no specifics, but simply a call. Somewhere, embedded in the essence of the call was your brother's voice. I think you have already guessed this or perhaps sensed this. That explains your worried message to him, which he received yesterday. What do you sense of him, Samuel? Is it similar to a Vulcan familial bond? We, too, can sense the extremities afflicting our family members. I have done careful research regarding the documentation of this phenomena among humans. Humans have reported the ability to know of the danger, injury, or death of a close one for at least 1575 years of your written history, much longer if myth is taken as reality. Is this your gift as a Human, or is it something different and what can you tell me about it? Does your brother share the gift? I continue with the tale. I exited the ship and hovered above the ocean's surface my EVA suit. I waited as the water rippled beneath me. The only thing I can liken it to is witnessing the birth of an island. Rising up from the bottom of the ocean, was the most immense creature I have ever seen. A Seadog had grown to adulthood and was Seadog no longer. It was ancient, no longer using its eyes which were atrophied by the dark of eternal ocean night. It radiated the dream. Only my Vulcan training kept me free. I have no words to describe it, Samuel. I have no way to allow you to experience it. It is not time for us to dream as they do. "To sleep, perchance to dream. " Fain would I sleep ne'er to awake again. Imagine a train million years old with a million lives intertwined. Complexity beyond my understanding. Your brother sought the dream and a was pulled in like a ship into a maelstrom. His thoughts, were added to the dream, and now mine are also. He did not leave the dream willingly. I returned him to the ship and despite the best medicine Starfleet and Doctor McCoy could conjure, he refused to awaken from the Dream. I did not know what to do except to attempt to entreat the Old Ones to release him back to us. I stole his sleeping form from sickbay and returned to the surface. I have lost much of the particulars of the experience after I stationed the ship above the place I had pulled from the back of the Old One, only days before. I allowed myself to rejoin the dream and I took discordance, need, and perhaps something more negative into the Dream with me. I called for your Brother until I felt myself stretched and nebulous to the point of dissipation. I am not sure if he came or if he was pushed away, forced to return. Nonetheless, he returned. I know they pushed me away. He was undoubtedly rejected because of me. My voice brought discordance. My vision of death, pain, and strife, were things the dream did not have before. Once they became aware of us, they sent us both away. They do not fight, do not argue, and do not kill. They sent their children to speak for them, to transmit the words at a speed we could comprehend. Had the Old Ones attempted to speak directly to us, 100 years would have passed before we completed the first paragraph. I awoke on the back of an Old One, in the middle of the Great Sea. I awoke to the anger of Dr. McCoy and the patience of Mr. Scott. He attempts to think the best of me at all times. Jim was brought to the surface of consciousness as a metaphor, because the surface is where children dwell. That is where anger and death lives He. . . we, are children in their eyes and not intelligent or mature enough to dream. Your brother has been very quiet since his return to the ship. I surmise that he is angry with me also. His anger will pass. As I said, he is not injured physically. He had his EVA suit on the first time, life support the second, and Dr. McCoy is an excellent Physician when he is not hollering or angry. One can only guess what size and level of profundity is found in the oldest of the bottom dwellers. Per regulations, since Jim was out of contact and under the influence of an alien mind, he is not allowed to resume command or make contact with anyone until McCoy has cleared him. He sends his apologies for any worry his silence may have caused you. The charge I have accepted is often daunting, Samuel. Your brother is extremely difficult to protect, especially when he is his own worst enemy. In his defense, I heard the song. Our voices were like the buzzing of insects in the still of the desert heat. We disturbed their peace and marred their landscape. They felt no anger with us, more regret that we were not adults yet. They also pitied us slightly for the paucity of our vision. Were it not to for the sight of Jim's immobile body being held in the skin folds of a behemoth, I would have been sorely tempted to join the dream. Never, in all my existence, have I come closer to an intelligence as amazing as those who dream. We have shortened their name for the sake of brevity. Also, few can remember or pronounce their true name. It is 2361 syllables long and requires mental constructs. Enough. I must leave. He is waking up. I will ask him why he is angry with me and he will answer me as honestly as he can. I suspect Jim will not change, therefore I must increase my vigilance. Live long and prosper, Samuel and please convey my desire for your families' prosperity and peace to Aurelan and your sons. Jim did convey Peter's wish for a Vulcan ceremonial blade to me. I believe I have found something that will satisfy his needs, should you and your Wife approve of it. Into the Song Suite Part 13 Spock's Log 24 I have been restricted to my quarters for ten days pending complete medical review of my mental status. This is day four. Dr. McCoy is livid with me and it is probable that he has just cause to be emotional. I made a logical decision to attempt to retrieve the consciousness of my captain, yet it is obvious this decision is viewed in a somewhat altered light by Dr. McCoy. He actually yelled at me when we came on board. I have been named an 'inconsiderate, thieving, lying, grandstanding, sneaky bastard'. I have researched the cultural references for all of those acrimonious labels and I find that he is, in a strange sense, accurate for at least three of the descriptions. I lied by omission; I definitely utilized subterfuge and clandestine movement, I did take Jim without permission. I must decline the title of grandstanding, as I sought no glory. I did consider his reaction to my actions but the knowledge of how he would react did not deter me. Jim is still very weak from his recent experience. Dr. McCoy states it was if he was actually doing the flying through space. It seems to have depleted his muscle glycogen stores as well as his hepatic stores. He lost 7.2 kilograms in weight. I have sat with him to monitor his oral intake and assist him with utilizing his utensils. He often refuses my assistance, which results in him not taking in sufficient nutrients before the effort tires him. Fortunately, McCoy has taken the initiative of utilizing other means to rebuild his nutritional stores. I asked Jim why he called for me in the Song. "I wanted you to see what I was seeing. I wanted to share it with you." He called McCoy, also, but the Doctor's longstanding refusal to open his mind to psychic impressions, sealed him in his own head, alone and unable to hear. Jim. . .my captain is often very quiet and still. At first, I thought it was a residual, an echo of the Song which held him still. It is not. I finally asked him, and he said it was me. My actions have caused him a great deal of concern. He feels I should not have put his ship or crew in danger to rescue him. I sense he is ambivalent about and . . . uncertain of my motives for my actions. I am at somewhat of a loss to explain my decisions, now that I have the gift of hindsight. In the full light of my calm perusal of the facts, I am able to see why he would question my actions. His logic is not equal to mine. That is unusual. His conclusions and my have had concordance of 93.4%. Obviously, he did not review all of the parameters involved in my decision tree. Perhaps the Song affected me. I felt it pulling at my. . .my innermost self. It fades now. I am told Humans experience this with normal dreams, the fading of memory. Vulcans do not dream as Humans do, in allegorical, disconnected snippets of imagination and reality combined. At one time in our distant past, it is possible we did, but we have been trained out of the habit. To dream freely allows one's emotions free reign. Passions emerge, fears hold sway, and irrationality floods the mind. We would sink into our dreams and emerge insane, or so some posit. Therefore, we control even the sleeping state and force our minds to meditation or deep, dreamless slumber. Restorative sleep it is called, and so I have believed it to be, until I heard the Song. Who will restore my sleep now? Visualize the beating of your mother's heart, feel it suffuse your being, cool. . .no, for a Vulcan or a full Human, it would be warm. It is only I, half human, who felt a cool chest against my head. Amanda. . .she who is my mother. Look what your son has done. I digress. Hear it . . .tha-tha-thump. . .tha-tha-thump. It beats until it is all you hear, and your hands begin to clinch and unclench to the rhythm. Your feet hold the beat against your will. You rock. . .oh so subtly, until you are the rhythm. I hear it. I feel it. A slow sound of sand shifting in the desert, the breathing of a creature old and immense is added to the symphony, the crackle of the heat on the rocks of the Formaji. Sometimes, they hiss from the heat, drying the last bit of moisture from the hoary hold of the ancient rocks; blowing winds and the sounds of the surf on worlds where the seas are liquid ammonia fill your eyes with colors. Voices. Strain to hear them, and no matter how far you stretch your senses they flit away into the distance. Do not think of instruments. Lives, energy, light, darkness, are the tools to bring you music. I heard these things. In my head were the calls of the Elders, not words, and not notes. A name spoken in passing lasted for an eon. They are alien and ageless. Gargantuan and barely mobile in the physical realm, they were the epitome of puissance and unimaginable grace as they sped across the cosmos, in search of. . .no that is not correct. They search for nothing. They require nothing. They fear nothing. They are. In the Song, they are eternal and the Song is all. They exist to Sing, and they span the universe to sing of its wonders. Joy. . .contentment, surety. . never alone. They are never lonely, never rejected. This is what they sing. How could he resist? Jim. What will become of him? What will become of me? His voice. Against the backdrop of a symphony of sounds, I heard him sing. His voice was notes. His voice sung, laughed, and exclaimed in wonder. The Elders took his song and wove it into the Song, now held there for all times. A youngling who sang. Heat. They named him because he flared and burned like a sun's corona, reaching out far from the core of the Star, living and dying in an instant, glorious to behold. I had a name. I was . . . It is far easier to translate the mental construct for Jim into one word, than it is to do so for what I was named. Heat: a nova, expanding out into the living darkness of space; sun falling on a youngling's back as it basked in the sun of their world; water near a thermal vent, rising and warming the skin of an almost adult as it fed on the plants of the deep, skin of Elder against Elder, making circles of warmth in the cold of the deep. Jim was all of this to them: life, touching, experiencing, joy, creation, destruction, sharing. Jim: Heat; Spock: Voice Sing Noise Song. Does a longer name constitute an insult or a compliment? I suspect I was not complimented. I screamed against the notes of the Song. I flew and called out for Jim. I refused to leave him out among the stars he craved. I denied him his dream. I caused him pain, because I decided I knew what was best for him. He has only spoken to me briefly since he awoke. I do not believe he agrees with my decisions, but he will never say that. There was and is no logical reason to not want to be rescued. Unfortunately, he is not always logical. Yesterday he was stronger. We spoke for 1.54 hours. He asked, 'Why did you break quarantine and risk your life and your career for me, Spock? Why not let me go? I was content and if you had chosen to join the Song, you would have been immortalized. What do you want so badly in this reality? Where was your logic?' If he remained in the Song, he would die. If I remained in the Song, my Katra would have been part of the Song, even had I died. I would have continued. When he died, my Katra would remain in the Song, alone among the Elders. Alien. The Song gave me nothing. I did not desire it, therefore an eternity of being in it was not a logical choice. Jim, having no Katra would have left the Song upon his demise. Jim's death would have resulted in a null set for four equations. The Federation would have lost its most brilliant Starship captain, Jim would be dead, the Song would be without Jim, and I would persist in a Song in which I did not belong, or have been forced to serve under a less worthy commander. I attempted to explain my reasoning to him. He seeks to push me. He seeks to deconstruct me and rebuild me into something he can predict. If this continues, I will not be allowed any secrets from this man. Now my logic and my rationality are questioned by the man who would have been dead, but for my actions. My decision was logical. Perhaps there were five equations with null sets for solutions. If Jim had died, and I had lived. . .I would have returned to my previous solitude. I no longer seek what I once espoused as necessary. It is just as well. I gave Sam my word, and Jean Little. Jean called the ship two days ago. She spoke briefly with Jim and then asked to speak with me. She sat silently and stared at me across the screen. I thought she would not speak at all. "Spock, over time, water can break a rock. Which shall you be: the water, or the rock?" She then thanked me for my efforts and signed off. I am not sure I understand the question. I certainly do not see any logic in making a choice between those two options. I must end this. It is time to go to assist Jim with his meal. He will not allow any of the medical technicians or nurses to do so. My escort will be three security officers until the quarantine is lifted. Dr. McCoy insisted on the redundancy. I did not deem it necessary to tell him that even three Human guards could not stop a determined adult Vulcan male. Some things are better kept to oneself. Into the Song Suite Part 14 Title: Dear Sam 29 STARFLEET DIPLOMATIC COURIER, CODED SECURE George Samuel Kirk Jr. Bioagricultural Industries, Kirk Inc Deneva Central 17 Junque St. Deneva, UFP Dear Sam, I heard you made a ruckus about not hearing from me. That wasn't a good idea, Sam. Folks might want to know why you were so worried. How are you going to tell them that you heard me calling you in your dreams? I'm fine. Stop worrying. Knowing you, you've called Jean and Mom already. Call them off. You got Spock's letter so you know the general details. I can tell you the rest now. Okay, I'll start with the beginning. We decided to explore, map and categorize the flora and fauna on one of four possible colonizable worlds. We had named the world Posiedon. It's a serene, beautiful, place with beaches on crystalline sand and oceans warmed by constant winds and thermal vents. There were no predators, no poisons, and no owners. That's what we thought. I let everyone go down and play, and I decided I needed a break, too. All I wanted was to swim, and lay back in the sun for a few days. I remember telling you about the Seadogs. Let me see if I can quote myself. They 'looked like a cross between otters, dogs, and whales with no arms, just pseudopods. The heads were the closest things about them to otters and the eyes were dark blue, like the sea. They glittered like multifaceted jewels in the white light of the sun. " I bet that is pretty damn close to what I wrote you before. I'll pay you a credit for every word I'm off. They had no anxiety about humans at all, Sam. They just swam up and sort of asked to be petted. I didn't think anything about it after a while. I been places before where animals weren't hunted and they would just stand and look at you. They didn't often let themselves be touched, but what the hell. We scanned them and they had no teeth, no stingers, no toxins, so I touched them. I could feel a sound coming from them. I thought it was like a purr and when I played with them, or let myself be pulled along in the water by them, they purred even louder. Over a few days, I got them to play fetch, believe it or not. I used a big red ball, and they would push it along in the water and bat it towards me and I woould throw it oout again. I was having fun. One night we had a luau on the beach, and I was drinking with Bones. Spock was reading a journal and trying to ignore us. Bones is still trying to get me drunk. We had poured a lot, but I felt fine. I decided I needed to go out and swim. Now that I think about it, I was pulled out to swim by something I almost could hear at the upper range of sound. I didn't realize it then; I just got this stupid idea to swim. I felt it coming, Sam. It was huge and fast and I should've headed for the shore like a seal losing a great white shark, but I couldn't leave. I felt . . . wonder and a sense of joyful expectation. I was a child opening up presents on Christmas. When the Big Seadog came under me and lifted me up into the air, all I could do was shout with joy and laugh my head off. I decided than I was drunk and too stupid to know it. Power. I was lifted and carried like I was a toy. The sound was there too, louder and more. It carried something with it that I kept reaching to hear, kept needing to hear. I wanted it Sam. They didn't entice me. I went for it like a drugger for Synthenkephalin. I felt myself skipping along a current as old and as deep as the world and for a moment I felt a question in the water, a waiting expectancy. Who was I? It seemed to want to know that. There were no words, no word pictures, nothing I could really grasp and hold. I decided I had imagined it all and was drunk. I fell asleep on the back of a small whale sized being and I was too out of it to realize something wasn't quite as it should be. Part of me knew that if it started going too far away from shore, Spock would have them beam me off it's back, and part of me didn't care. I rode. When I got carried to shore by my new buddy, Spock and McCoy were so mad at me, I could almost feel it as a current in the air. When Spock accused me of being drunk and irresponsible, I got mad, mostly because I believed him. I felt drunk and irresponsible. I knew I had scared them and I believed I had imagined all the sounds and the currents because of the alcohol. The sense of peace and controlled power beneath me had made me feel . . .damn this is hard. I felt safe. Do you know how long it has been since I have felt absolutely safe? Yeah, you do know. I felt better attributing my feelings to alcohol, then thinking they might be real. Who the hell feels safe riding the back of a whale sized seal/squid creature over the waves of a nighttime alien sea? For the record, I enjoyed it. I regret making folks jump though hoops to find me. I regret Spock risking his life to save me, but I'm not ashamed of the journey I took. I swam among the stars. I saw sights I will never get to really see in this existence. I heard sounds not meant for human ears. Creatures intelligent and wonderful live on worlds we may never see. Beings who should have scared me wordless, had I been on the Enterprise, were only notes in the Song to the Elders. All they see is wonder and majesty. A few especially malignant races, unbelievably cruel and violent, were enough to give me pause. I will send a special message to Jean about those. The family might want to be prepared for them. Fortunately none of them have found their way anywhere near Federation Space. I'm still dealing with some after affects, I think. I keep hearing things I shouldn't and seeing things that aren't here anymore. They can hear things we can't Sam. Space is like a series of layers to them. Each layer flows over the other in an infinite number of infinite planes and they dive in and out of all of them like they would swim through water. Damn, that doesn't explain it well, does it? Let me try again. In the ocean, there are thermal currents that run all the way around the world. Jean told me once about ancient sailors who navigated the oceans from Africa to Micronesia and Polynesia to settle. They built Empires that spanned from Island to island and sailed their world with assurance. They did not use the Sun, or the Stars as much as they used the currents. They read them like they were notes in a watery symphony. They knew to get from one island to another in the chain, they went from b flat to a sharp to middle c. The music in the ocean was the song they heard and played. Some of the currents were seasonal and some were always present, but they all were part of the Symphony they saw and sailed. The Elders are that and so much more. A Sun going Nova is C sharp and a black hole is G, you know that deep G you could never hit in a song to save your life. They move from note to note, from place to place, and their movement is Song and their thoughts are Song and their vision is Song. Woven into the fabric of space are the same eddies and currents that we are too blind, deaf and stupid to see. They float along the notes and change the Song with their visit to a different Sound, a different place. I heard the Song. I floated on the currents and for a moment, I understood my place in this cosmos. God I was so happy, Sam. I was no longer afraid of failing my crew, or the Federation, or myself. My ghosts were quiet and my memories were mute. I called you. I wanted you to hear it, I needed someone to hear and see what I heard and to tell me it was as incredibly wonderful and melodious as I thought it was. Did you hear any of it? Spock heard it. His sounds were not mine, but they were equally as wonderful, I think. Instead of embracing the Song and floating on the waves of the cosmos, he refused to swim. He refused to dive into the quasars and trail along in the outer rim of supernovas. Don't ask me how they do what they do. I don't think they know. . .or care how it's done. The Song is all. I called Jean. . .she answered. I called Mom, and she didn't. I wonder why? I can't say much more about that until I see you. I will tell you one thing, Jean had never heard their Song before. She only stayed a second, a ghost, a reflection against the rings of Saturn. She smiled at me and said something I did not want to hear. "This is not for you, Baby. Go home." Then, in control as always, she left. I am sure as hell not a baby, but she and Mom can make me feel like a naughty five year-old with a look and three words. When I called for you, I could tell you were asleep; your answers were all fuzzy. I didn't mean to put you at risk and I won't ever do that again. I'm sorry. I just felt so. . .alive. I wanted to share it. When I called McCoy, his mind felt like it had a durasteel fence around it. I honored his barrier. Spock answered. At first, I think he heard the Song as I did, but I could feel him dropping behind, trying to weigh me down and keep me back. I didn't want to stay, Sam. I wanted to fly long the waves and the notes of the Galaxy. I wanted to see what was on the other side of the Galactic barrier. I wanted to hear what notes a new galaxy had in store. I wanted to skip along the surface of the seven rings of Aldeberaan and swim in the seas of Pollix 8. Each place, each step, each sight, became a new note in my choral, in their symphony, in the Galaxies unending Song. Spock tried to call me back. He screamed against the tide and I flew onward, ever outward and onward. In the end, he got his way. I'm back. I go along at warp speed in a ship, when I was sailing faster than thought, free. He did the right thing. I'm mad as hell at him, but he did the right thing. I just can't figure out why he did what he did. We're friends, I know that. You got him to promise to be my anchor. I know that too. But where does he get off deciding for me? The ship wasn't in danger, the crew was healthy and safe, life would've gone on without me. I am not talking about suicide, Sam. I'm talking about being among the stars, no, diving in the damn things if I wanted to. What kind of fool would I be to turn down a chance like that? When do I get to be free? When do I get to lay back and not have to do anything, but what I want? Damn, forget what I just said. I could delete it, but I guess you should know how nuts I am right now. It's better to say these things to you than to Spock. I have been very quiet around him for the most part. I know I am being irrational, so I don't say anything. I don't want to ruin what we've managed to cobble together so far. Sam, it does me good to talk to you, even when you are two quadrants away, and it will take a week to get a reply. I am a dunce, a nut, and a nincompoop. Spock did the right thing. He called me back to my duty and my purpose in life. He was and is my friend, even if I don't understand him. It's strange. I've learned how to read him much better, but that doesn't mean I understand what motivates him, or what he really is thinking. I mean you are a damn holovid to me with subtitles in case I missed the point the first time. I don't even need to read your face or body language. Dealing with him is like reading old- fashioned Braille with burned fingertips. You can just make out the words, if you press hard and ignore the pain . . . and the numbness. Bones, needless to say is pissed. I think if I wasn't still his Captain, he would smack me right in the forehead. He walks around and mutters a lot under his breath. 'Fool, damn idiot, inconsiderate pain in the ass', are a few of the monikers I've hear him mutter. Guilty as charged on all counts. I didn't get drawn in on purpose, but I didn't fight that hard either. The Seadogs were like playing with Mandella or Whinny and Spank. I was playing, trying to relax, and the next thing I knew, 10days later, I was sailing the galaxy. The Elders sent me back. I'm not sure I would've had the strength to come back on my own. There, I admitted it. Left to my own devices, I would've blown it. I am not invulnerable or infallible. I hate knowing that, admitting it is even worse. Had to do it though, or it would sit and make me into a liar, a caricature of a Starship Captain. You know, like the ones in the Saturday morning vids, always right, always wise, always brave. Screw that. I am always nothing. I wonder if the Elders are always the way I saw them. I loved what I saw of them. One strange thing to note. There was an area of space where I was not allowed to go. I asked why and I think the answer was: 'Our Sister who went away Sings alone there.' The Song sounded a little sad when they sang that. I wonder what made them sad. They were infinitely kind, gentle, and patient. I have never before seen any beings who demonstrated as much peace and joy as they did. I survived, more or less intact. You know, Sam, the strange thing is recently, command has made me feel isolated. I had come to believe I was nothing more than the Old Man. Folks might miss me for a second, but things would go on. The Universe would not even blink. Now I know the universe still won't blink when I die, but at least I am not as alone as I thought I was. At least one inscrutable Vulcan and one irascible Human Doctor would give a damn about me. Maybe there are even a few more. Penda came to visit me in sickbay. My hands still remember the feel of her skin from back in the good old days when she loved me. We are being such good little spacers: no hanky and no panky. The family doesn't count. You guys have to love me and miss me; I was such a cute kid. Anyway, I'm fine. I'm back on light duty and visiting the gym twice a day for strengthening and conditioning. Somehow, Spock manages to be there every time, so he helps me work out. Personally, I think he is undercover special ops from McCoy. Probably, supervising me is his penance for pissing Bones off. Oh, by the way, please send me two bottles of that special crated stuff you have hidden in the storage room. Make sure you put it in a diplomatic pouch and charge it to my account. You know which bottles I mean. Bones will have his piece of flesh. Damn, he was really mad. This may cost me a months salary but the last thing I need is a really pissed off chief surgeon. MAIL IT. . .QUICK. My life may depend on it. Just kidding. I hope. Love Ya, Jim