Killing Time 1st Edition by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

THE VULCAN AWOKE to the sensation of pain--someone slapping him repeatedly across the face. Hard strokes which did not relent.

He turned back toward pleasant darkness and dreams. Pain was easily ignored.

But the tormentor did not cease. Another slap. More powerful. Another. Again.

His eyes opened, refused to focus, and anger flared unexpectedly in the center of his chest. His hand shot out, grasped the offending intruder, and flung him roughly away. Slowly, normal vision returned.

"Well, Spock," McCoy said, picking himself up off the floor. "It's about time you came out of that healing trance! I thought I was going to have to bring in the heavy artillery!"

Eyes wide, the Vulcan steadied himself, only then realizing that he'd been moved to a high-backed recovery chair in Sickbay. Through the clear divider screen, nurses and orderlies hurried about their duties; and he was grateful that all seemed oblivious to his presence. He took a deep breath, somehow amazed that life still flowed through him. An eyebrow rose as composure returned.

"Forgive me, Doctor," he murmured. "I did not realize ..."

McCoy smiled, rubbing one wrist. "As long as you're among the living, I think I can live with a broken arm." But the blue eyes darkened.

"Ship's present status?" Spock asked, rising to his feet and only then noticing that he was bare to the waist. Somehow he had been dressed in a tight-fitting pajama bottom which vaguely resembled a leopard. He frowned at himself. A pressure bandage wound itself around his chest, just under the sternum, and as he stood a moment of dizziness threatened to drag him back down.

He fought. "Precisely ... how long was I in the healing state, Doctor?"

McCoy moved to the Vulcan's side. "You weren't out that long," he replied. "About eighteen hours altogether from the time we beamed up." He paused, studying his captain's unsteady stance. "The spear nicked your left lung, but no serious damage. But what was starting to worry me," the doctor continued, "was that you didn't seem to want to come out of the trance." He shrugged. "Can't say that I blame you ... considering what's been going on around here."

The Vulcan stepped away from the doctor, forcing himself to stand steadily on legs which threatened to buckle. "Explain," he demanded.

"Well, for starters," McCoy began with a sigh, "the whole Canusian Mission was just a ... ruse."

He laughed nervously. "From what Chekov told me, there is no Canusian Ambassador--at least not in the sense we were lead to believe. The whole damned thing was a setup--apparently by S't'kal himself." McCoy frowned. "But when Chekov contacted FleetCom this morning to tell them about the incident, S't'kal denied the whole thing--said the ShiKahr was never ordered into the Canusian system at all. First the Romulan orders--and now this. I don't think we need any more confirmation of our suspicions. S't'kal's mad as a hatter, Spock--but the question is how to get him out of power before he single-handedly wipes out every starship in the Fleet!"

The Vulcan considered the information in momentary silence.

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