trusted McCoy. After everything I’ve seen I should have known better, I shouldn’t have trusted McCoy.
He heard the door open; he lay very still, pretending to be asleep. Light crept past the folds of his sleeve. He wondered if McCoy had come to dispatch him, as he had got rid of the captain, or if Spock had come to poison him, as he had somehow poisoned Lee, and Judge Desmoulins, and the security guard. Footsteps approached. He prepared himself to fight, trying to tense his muscles without appearing to move.
“Mr. Braithewaite?”
The tension went out of Ian in a rush. He pulled his arm away from his eyes and sat up quickly.
“Mr. Scott—thank god!”
“I had to override the lock,” Scott said. “I tried to reach ye on the communicator, but I couldna get through.”
“They’ve cut me off,” Braithewaite said. He sprang to his feet. “I tried to give McCoy another chance, and he had me arrested.”
“Aye,” Scott said dully.
Ian took Scott by the shoulders. The engineer did not meet his gaze.
“I knew I could trust you,” Ian said. “I knew there had to be somebody on this ship who would make a difference. My god, if you weren’t here—”
“Dinna remind me,” Scott said. “Dinna tell me compliments. There’s naught but shame in all of this.”
“We’ve got to try to recapture Spock and Mordreaux. They’ve both left the ship but they might have overlooked some kind of clue. They were working in Mordreaux’s room—come on!”
He plunged out into the corridor, oblivious to being seen or recaptured. Scott followed.
Dr. Mordreaux hunched down in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest. He glowered at Spock.
“Dammit, no!” he said again. “Iknew this would happen if I helped you, I knew it. You’ll never be satisfied till you manage to impose your own will and your own ethics on mine!”
“I assure you, Dr. Mordreaux—”
“Shut up! Get out! Do whatever you want, I don’t care.”
“Do you release me from my bond?” “No! Your actions are on your own head. If you do this, I’ll expose you for the liar you are.”
Spock gazed down at the time-changer. Dr. Mordreaux’s threat was trivial enough: If Spock broke his promise and kept the professor from being arrested, the promise technically would never have been made; if Spock failed, the professor would be taken to the rehabilitation colony, and no one would pay attention to what he said. But even if the threat were a compelling one, it would not control the Vulcan’s actions. Spock alone had to decide whether he must break his word, and whether he could live with himself afterward if he did.
The door to Dr. Mordreaux’s stateroom slid open.
“Ye said they’d escaped” Mr. Scott said to Ian Braithewaite.
Braithewaite stared at Spock and Mordreaux, his stunned expression changing to relief and triumph. “It doesn’t matter, we’ve caught up to them. Get that thing away from Spock. It’s—it’s a weapon!”
“Mr. Scott,” Spock said, “have you been looking for me?”
“Mr. Spock... Mr. Braithewaite has made some serious accusations against you, and against Dr. McCoy. I ha’ some questions I canna work out in my mind. I think we must talk.”
Braithewaite snorted in disgust.
“Are you giving me an order, Mr. Scott?” Spock asked.
“I dinna wish to put in a formal charge of unfitness against ye, but I will if ye force me to it.”
“You will be charged with mutiny.”
“Will ye no’ just explain?” Scott cried. “Ye willna answer my questions, ye’ve lied to me—”
“For gods’ sakes, Mr. Scott!” Braithewaite yelled. “This is no time to argue over your hurt feelings!” He lunged toward Spock. “Give me that—”
As Braithewaite grabbed for the time-changer, Spock pushed him aside and fled. He shouldered his way past the two security officers at Dr. Mordreaux’s door, but Scott and Braithewaite followed him on the run, and the taller man closed the distance quickly.
“Stop him!” Scott shouted, and the sounds of confused voices and running footsteps intensified into chaos.
Spock raced through the corridors of the Enterprise . He spun around a corner and ran headlong into Dr. McCoy and Captain Hunter. But Hunter had no reason to try to stop him; he escaped again and abandoned McCoy to the confusion as Scott and Braithewaite caught up to them. He could hear everyone shouting at each other, cursing, yelling conflicting orders and explanations, with McCoy doing his best to complicate matters further. But after a moment the muddle broke up into a string of pursuers again. As Spock plunged into the transporter room, Ian Braithewaite put on a final sprint, launched himself at Spock, and rammed into the Vulcan’s knees. They went down in a tangle, Ian clutching at the time-changer and trying to drag it away.
Spock clamped his fingers around the muscle at the base of Ian’s neck, seeking out the vulnerable nerve. The prosecutor collapsed in an angular heap. Spock freed himself and lurched to his feet. Without taking the time to double-check the settings of the changer, without stopping to think whether he should try to go farther back than he originally planned, all the way to the beginning, Spock leaped onto the transporter platform. Hunter appeared in the doorway, her energy-pistol drawn. She aimed it: it would not stun; it was a killing weapon.
Struggling halfway to consciousness, Braithewaite groaned. “Stop him,” he said. “Stop him, he murdered Jim Kirk.”
But she hesitated. As Mr. Scott and two bewildered-looking security officers rushed into the transporter room, followed a moment later by Dr. McCoy, Spock pressed the controls and felt the rainbow light engulf him, crush him, and rip him away into the continuum.
Dr. McCoy felt the warp engines shudder into unwilling resurrection, feeding their power through the time- changer. The drain was too great. As the lights faded, the doctor watched Hunter lower her energy-pistol.
She had plenty of time to fire, McCoy thought.
“What the hell did he do?” Hunter said.
“He made a fine botch of my repairs again, for one thing,” Scott said from the darkness, his old self for a moment.
“Emergency power should come on line in a minute or so,” McCoy said. “Like I told you, we’ve been having some problems—”
“You’ve got more than problems,” Hunter said, in a tone that silenced him.
The quiet movement of the air returned, and the lights glowed dimly back to life around them. The voices of frightened crew members jumbled together in an erratic crescendo. The computer began to babble, then lapsed into fuzzy white noise.
Mr. Scott helped Ian Braithewaite to his feet. Dazed, the prosecutor almost fell again. McCoy hurried forward, but Ian jerked away from his help.
“Keep your hands off me.” He sat down on the transporter platform and buried his face in his hands.
“All right, Ian,” McCoy said mildly. He turned to the security officers. “Is anyone guarding Dr. Mordreaux?”
“I—I guess not, Doctor.”
“You better get back there then, both of you. Everything’s under control here.”
They looked skeptical. McCoy did not blame them.
“Out!” he yelled.
They left, reluctantly, to return to their post. McCoy folded his arms and regarded Braithewaite.
“You’re supposed to be in your quarters, Ian,” he said. “What are you doing out?”
“I freed him, Dr. McCoy,” Scott said. “I dinna ken what’s happened to this ship, I dinna ken what’s happened t’ye and Mr. Spock since all this started. But Mr. Braithewaite has asked questions that need answering, and you willna answer them.”
“Scotty, you disobeyed my direct orders—”
“Your orders! Ye are no’ a command officer! What business had he leaving ye in command?”
“Spock left the doctor in command because it was the only way he could carry out his plans,” Braithewaite said. “He had to keep you out of the way.”
“Now just a minute,” McCoy said.
