The BLTS Archive - S'Brin
by Fishey_me (fishey_me@yahoo.com)

---

Disclaimer: I own Lieutenant Hernandez, S'Brin and Simon. However,
Star Trek and all related characters belong to Paramount. Go them.

Author's Note: The Prologue and a handful of other chapters will be
told like my story "Once She Had Noticed," from the point of views of
the three major female crewmembers, due to popular demand. Unlike that
story, much of this story will be told in the omniscient third person,
focusing on Spock and McCoy. This is by Fisheyme only, but Traycon3
has been a great sounding board for my ideas. Thanks T3!

Author's Note 2: I do not actually speak Vulcan. Ergo, my translation
of the word "S'Brin" is merely for the sake of this story, and cannot
be considered accurate.

---
Prologue
Janice:
---

She gasped as she heard him raise his voice to Spock. It was so unlike
him to raise his voice at all, much less to a man he admired as much
as Mr. Spock. But Spock was unfazed, despite the swearing. Lieutenant
Hernandez seethed.

"I don't understand, sir. I've gone step by step over the procedure;
what in the name of God is wrong with it? You've let lab techs do
their own experiments before!"

"For one thing, Doctor McCoy has also told me about your intended
experiment and what it entails. He has already denied your request to
work in the medical labs."

"You out-rank him, sir. Surely you-"

"For another, I believe that your experiment, while laudable in goal,
can easily be corrupted in practice. I cannot condone such a
possibility occurring on this ship. I suggest you petition Star Fleet
or some other research facility and conduct this research privately."

"Sir-"

"My decision stands, Mr. Hernandez."

Hernandez clenched his fists and scowled. "McCoy's an old fool! I'm
sure he lathered his description of my experiment with backwards and
conservative Southern bullshit! Look at this with an open mind, sir!"

She shifted her weight and looked at the captain. He didn't look
pleased, but Spock was holding his own, so he didn't speak up.

"Doctor McCoy is as able a scientist as you or I." Even she could hear
the slight edge of irritation creeping into Spock's tone. "And I judge
your work without bias, but completely logically. My decision stands."

"You're just mad that I affronted your lover! Can't you see I'm trying
to help people like you?"

"Jeraldo!" she gasped.

Spock stood to his full height. "Doctor McCoy and I are not lovers,
Mister Hernandez. As for your 'help'," Spock put his hands behind his
back, "that is not a military matter. Again, I would recommend that
you attempt to conduct this research in a private facility.
Dismissed."

Hernandez glared at Spock for a minute, but then left.

She looked at Jim and wondered what he was thinking about all this. He
was looking at Spock.

"What was he going on about, Mister Spock?"

"Mister Hernandez wishes to conduct research into means of producing
offspring for same-sex parents. Hence his 'I'm trying to help people
like you' declaration."

"Sounds pretty noble. Why are you denying it?"

She knew he was saying that just to make Spock look at other angles...

"The theory is laudable, Captain, much like communism."

She couldn't help but look at Chekov at the mention of something so...
Russian.

"However, like communism, the practice is next to impossible when one
factors in the human desire for a specific gender, race, hair color,
eye color, genetic disposition for stamina..."

"You're suggesting the process might invariably lead to eugenics?"

"In essence."

She shuddered as she remembered Kahn: so handsome and yet so cruel.

"I see," Jim said, nodding. "Alright then."

She felt something in her gut tell her that this wasn't the end of
this problem... But she couldn't bring up the courage to say anything.
She was just a yeoman, who would believe her?

---

Jeraldo looked at the data on his terminal. If he could just determine
one variable... It could work if only he just, but no. It didn't
matter. No one would let him do this. No one wanted him to do this.

God, Spock was blind, Jeraldo knew it. If he would stop being so
worked up about that damned cracker he would surely see all the
potential for new life. Surely he had to see...

This was all McCoy's fault! If he would stop toying with the Vulcan:
teasing him, praising him one minute and bullying him the next,
jerking his chain and never giving him a moment's peace. Didn't he
have any idea what he was doing to Spock? All the science staff could
see the way their chief could be worked up sometimes for weeks about
one quip that the doctor spat in one argument. It wasn't fair that
Spock could be so infernally devoted to someone who obviously hated
him.

Jeraldo growled and slammed his fist into the glassy screen of his
computer. A long web-like pattern remained in place when he pulled his
hand away. It hadn't really hurt. A thin triangle of sharp glass fell
out of the monitor.

"Oh, what a tangled web we weave," he muttered, idly fingering the
shard. His finger began to bleed. "Why won't they let me bring life?
I'm no spider... I won't eat my own young. No, the spider is the one
who tastes the blood of trapped prey."

He lifted the glass into his hand, admiring the sharp, stained edges.

"Spock to Mr. Hernandez."

"Here, sir," Jeraldo breathed, looking wistfully at his own blood.

"Please report to Medical Lab 6."

"Si, senor."

He stood and walked out of the oppressive dark of his quarters,
clenching the glass in his fist.

Ffft, ffft. Softly, dark spots appeared on the red carpet in the
corridor as the Enterprise consumed the last remnants of the man he
used to be.

"Down came the rain and the spider washed him out," Hernandez hummed
as he walked into the medical lab.

"Ensign DeSoto forgot to wear her gloves and was injured," Spock said,
not bothering to look up from his monitor. "Will you assist me in
completing her experiment?"

Jeraldo nodded and sat at the terminal, but all he could see was the
data he could never present. "Dead in the womb."

"What was that, Lieutenant?" Spock asked, not looking up.

"All our hopes are dead in the womb because of a careless surgeon...
There's nothing left. No life," he trailed off.

Jeraldo opened his hand and saw the glass shard, like an iceberg
floating in a red sea. He lifted it in his fingers and opened up a red
river down his forearm.

"Drink up, little spider," Hernandez whispered as tears escaped from
his eyes.

"Mr. Hernandez?" Spock asked, looking over at the lieutenant. "Are you
well?"

Jeraldo sobbed. His family would hate him. This was his only chance to
do anything good for them. "Ivan was depending on me."

Spock looked over at the human's trembling shoulders. "Is your
brother's name not Ivan?"

Jeraldo didn't respond. His blood was running slowly. He tried to move
the glass to his other hand, but his fingers were slick and sticky and
his hand couldn't grip it. His tears mingled with his blood and the
glass slipped to the floor.

When Spock stood to note Hernandez's condition, he was overwhelmed by
the amount of blood. Reining in his astonishment, Spock walked calmly
to the comm. panel in the wall and depressed the button.

"Spock to Sickbay, emergency in Medical Lab 6. Mr. Hernandez has
injured himself and is bleeding heavily."

"I'll be right down," McCoy replied.

"¡No¡ Guarde esa araña lejos de mí!" Hernandez yelled.

"Why did you do this, Mr. Hernandez?" Spock asked, seizing the
lieutenant's arm and pressing a pressure point.

"No," Hernandez pleaded, "No, it isn't worth it. My blood isn't on
your hands. Let the butcher cut me up; I don't want to be put me back
together again. I've had such a great fall."

"Butcher, fall? You are not making any sense. Stop struggling, you
will lose more blood."

"I KNOW! Let me go!" But Hernandez was too weak to struggle. He
continued to sob.

McCoy and Chapel rushed into the lab. McCoy took Hernandez's arm from
Spock. "Good God, Jeraldo, what have you done?"

Hernandez gripped McCoy's forearm with his other hand. "I am innocent
of this man's blood," he spat, his wild eyes blazing. "It is your
responsibility."

McCoy looked down at the blood all over his hands. Chapel handed him a
bandage, a look of concern apparent in her eyes.

---

Spanish for non-Spanish speakers:

¡No¡Guarde esa araña lejos de mí! – No! Keep that spider away from me!

---
Chapter 1: Genius and Insanity

(Author's Note: This chapter takes place a hand full of months after
the prologue. Tzu is pronounced 'Suu'.)

---

"Can you believe Hernandez escaped?" Doctor McCoy asked his old friend
Captain Kirk as he sat down next to him in the briefing room. Kirk
shrugged.

"I've got to believe it. We're being ordered to find him in
conjunction with Commander Tzu from Starfleet Security."

"How did he get out?" Sulu asked, "I knew him, Captain. He's not
particularly brilliant or strong, just a poor scientist who went
crazy. He was a nice guy until... " He trailed off.

"Until he snapped," Chekov finished less delicately.

The door opened and two men walked in. Mister Spock sat next to Kirk,
and his much shorter companion, Commander Tzu, stood at the front of
the room, facing the other officers.

"As I'm sure you all know, Lieutenant Jeraldo Hernandez escaped
yesterday from the penal colony on Theta Psi 7 where he was receiving
psychiatric care. He hijacked a shuttlecraft and is now holding three
innocent people hostage. He is armed with a class two phaser and it is
assumed he can pilot a shuttlecraft on his own, as per his Academy
training."

"Has he given any clue as to his intended refuge or his reason for
escape?" Spock inquired.

"He only said his work was done, but not properly recorded. We aren't
sure if he was serious or suffering from another one of his
delusions."

"Assuming he was lucid at the time... Doctor, could his statement
relate to his research which you would not condone?"

McCoy nodded slowly, "It could, but if he's completed his research,
what if he starts experimenting? Or has already started?"

"Are you referring to his research on genetically engineered children
for same-sex couples?" Tzu interrupted. Spock and McCoy nodded. Tzu
looked uncomfortable for a moment. "I assumed so. I'm afraid to say
that it is quite likely he has already begun his experimentation.
Before he escaped, he received a number of comms from his brother,
Ivan. Of the ones we could access, the first read: "It's okay, you
tried. Don't beat yourself up. We can give you more samples." The
second: "Are you sure that's legal?" The third: "I've got them, but
let me and Chaz give you more samples first." And the final: "Yes! It
worked! Thank you so much! Are you sure you want to try the other
samples?" Tzu cleared his throat. "I think we can safely assume the
samples Ivan spoke of were semen samples from he and his husband,
Chaz. If "it" was a viable conception-"

"Mister Hernandez would be an uncle," McCoy finished.

"You mean he made a baby from two men's DNA?" Scotty asked with
surprise. "I'll be."

"That is our hypothesis, yes," Spock agreed. There was a brief
silence.

"Then could he be going to visit his brother?" Uhura asked, "I know if
I had a niece or nephew, I'd want to see it as soon as I could."

"If he is, he's going the long way. He's heading the opposite
direction of Earth, where it is reported his brother lives."

"Well, he is mad," Chekov muttered. Tzu frowned.

"Quite."

"So, Commander, am I to assume that we are to follow and apprehend
him?"

Tzu nodded at Kirk. "Yes, Captain. Also, we must do so without
bringing harm to any of the hostages."

"So, I guess we can't use the tractor beam to drag him in kicking and
screaming?" Kirk joked.

"Let him scream," Tzu said with a smile, "It's that kick we're worried
about. I'll give your navigator the coordinates."

"Thank you, Commander. Bones, Spock, I want you two to review his
research before he... snapped. That work is his life; if you
understand it, you might be able to talk him into letting the hostages
go. Chekov, get those coordinates. Sulu, when the course is set,
proceed at warp five. Dismissed, gentlemen."

Everyone except Spock and McCoy went to the bridge. Spock and McCoy
went to the medical lab.

"Did you ever think he would succeed?" McCoy inquired.

"I believed his theory was viable, though unethical."

"What do you think they'll do?"

"To Hernandez?"

"No, the baby," McCoy amended, shaking his head.

"Assuming there is one? Assuming it survives?"

"Yeah." His voice was distant

"It will be researched the entirety of its life. Its biological
parents will be institutionalized and so, unless it is put into the
custody of its extended family members, it will be the responsibility
of the orphanages."

"You say it like the baby is an animal! Poor thing, I really worry
about him."

"You assume it is male?"

"Better than "it"!"

"Perhaps you should be more concerned with the second transmission
Hernandez received."

"Which one?"

"Are you sure that is legal?" Spock quoted, "Which was later followed
by: we got them, but-"

"Let me and Chaz give you another sample first." McCoy finished. "They
were using other samples, so?"

"I would hypothesize that they stole other samples. If so, they may
have another couple's child."

"Or be developing it. My God, and not even with consent. Damn."

Spock nodded. "Do you still have his files?"

"Yeah, let me pull them up." McCoy began working at one of the
computers. "Here they are. It looks like his math works out."

Spock read over McCoy's shoulder. "He might have changed some of the
data. These calculations are off. He has been able to continue his
research the whole time."

"Of course, there's no harm in letting an insane person use a
calculator. Damn it. Can you make the calculations work, since he
managed to?"

"I shall endeavor to do so."

McCoy nodded and crossed his arms. "What really bothers me is that he
was actually able to do it. I never thought he would be able to once
he snapped."

"The expression states that there is a fine line between genius and
insanity."

---
Chapter 2: Alright? No, But I'm Finished
---

The Enterprise caught up with the shuttlecraft in a matter of hours.
Uhura hadn't managed to raise them, but she kept trying. Spock walked
onto the bridge.

"How was the research?" Kirk asked.

"Obviously effective, but rather tedious work. Many of his
calculations were incorrect, so I had to rework them."

"But you understand the work?"

"Naturally."

"Good. Can you try and raise him? He might have detested that you
refused his request for research facilities, but he respected you in
his way."

Spock stood beside Uhura at the communications console and at her
signal began. "Enterprise to shuttlecraft. Mister Hernandez, please
respond." Silence. "Repeat, Mister Hernandez, please respond."

"Someone's got a broken record-ord. The sweet song tends to skip-ip!"
Lieutenant Hernandez's voice sing-songed through over the comm. line.

"Mister Hernandez, please power down your engines and prepare to be
boarded," Spock continued, unfazed.

"Sorry, Spocky, but I'm in a hurry!" Hernandez laughed. "I've got a
few reports to finish, but they'll be on your desk in the morning,
sir!"

Kirk and Spock exchanged a glance. "Lieutenant, if you don't power
down your engines, we will be forced to open fire on you," Kirk
warned.

"Oh, please, Captain, don't insult me! I'm crazy, not stupid! You
don't want these stuffy shrinks to die, do you?"

Kirk scowled.

"Is the old coot still aboard, or did he do us all a favor and kick
the bucket?"

Kirk looked at Spock; both of them were confused. "Coot?"

"Ol' Lenny McCoy! Oh, please say he's still alive. I want to tell him:
I told you so!" Hernandez cackled.

"Doctor McCoy is still with us."

Hernandez laughed some more. "Excellent! I want to talk to him!"

"He is busy," Spock stated.

"Busy, busy, busy Bones! Make him un-busy; this Tellerite is annoying
me!"

"Comm McCoy, Uhura," Kirk ordered, "Bring him up here."

"I knew I always liked you. While we wait, how's the crew?"

"Don't toy with me, Hernandez!"

"Oh, sir, no, sir! I'm just curious. What about Commander Tzu? Is he
still on my tail?"

"I'm here, Hernandez," Tzu replied.

"Wonderful," Hernandez drawled sarcastically. "I'm sure you're waiting
to cuff me in irons, then? Hm?"

"Not if you come quietly."

"Ah, I have the right to remain silent! LA LA LA!" he screeched.
"Anything I say or do has been used against me! I'll not go gently
into that good night!"

McCoy walked onto the bridge. "You wanted to see me, Jim?"

"Hernandez is on the comm."

"Hey there, Doc!"

McCoy crossed his arms. "Jeraldo, are you alright?"

"Alright? Am I ALRIGHT?!" Hernandez screamed. "Is that animal,
vegetable, or mineral? Alright? NO! But, I'm finished! She's
beautiful, dark hair, light skin, the prettiest eyes...  I didn't even
have to try! You see, no eugenics! Just chance!"

"You're an uncle?" McCoy asked.

Hernandez sniffed. "Uncle, brother, mother, niece, cousin...  I'm
crazy!"

"Power down, Hernandez. We'll try and make you well."

"Neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well... But Civil, Count, as
civil as an orange, and something of that complexion..."

"Much Ado about Nothing," Spock stated.

"Exactly! Nothing! Nothing is everything to me; everything is nothing
to you! This is my life's work! The work for life! Not death, like
you! See everyone dying; see everyone dead, what fun we are having!"
Hernandez sounded utterly enraged.

"Calm down, Jeraldo," McCoy said shakily, "No sense in getting upset."

"Woo! Better sedate me, I'm getting a little wild. No problem though,
I'll do it!"

Hernandez's ship powered down completely. Not even life-support
remained.

"Kirk to transporter room, beam those people aboard. Tow that shuttle
in." Kirk ordered.

After a minute, Scotty commed the bridge. "We've got them sir.
Hernandez is asleep."

"Asleep?" Kirk asked Tzu.

"One of his little jokes. When he didn't want us to sedate him, he'd
freeze up and act sleep. At least we thought we could restrain him,
but then he'd toss and turn. We all got frustrated until we realized
he was acting."

Sulu shook his head. "It's sad to think of how he used to be."

"Try not to, Mr. Sulu." Kirk said with a sigh. "Commander Tzu, you'll
want to see him to the brig?"

"I would sir."

"McCoy, you should check the psychiatrists over, Hernandez too. Make
sure the stress hasn't made him any worse than he already is."

McCoy nodded and he and Tzu left.

"Very strange, Captain. Why would he power down now when he would not
before?"

"He's crazy, Spock. I doubt he knows why he did it."

---
Chapter 3: Calm Before the Storm
---

McCoy finished scanning the psychiatrists – all were fine – and went
down to the brig to scan Hernandez. Tzu met him there.

"He's cuffed and seems lucid for now."

"Calm before the storm?" McCoy asked.

"Usually is. Talk to him if you can. You're a shrink too, right?"

McCoy grinned. "Aren't you?"

"I hate talking to them. I can predict their movements, track them
down...  But talk to them?" Tzu shuddered.

"Then how do you know they're really crazy?"

"I let sane people like you talk to them. Go on in."

McCoy sat next to Hernandez who was staring at the ceiling, and heard
the force-field reactivate behind him.

"Hey, Doc."

"Hey, Jeraldo. How are you feeling?"

"Pretty good. See? I told you I could do it."

By 'it,' McCoy assumed he was talking about making that girl. "I never
said you couldn't; I said you shouldn't."

"Her name is Teresa, isn't it beautiful? My brother-in-law named her.
Do you have kids?"

"I have a daughter, Joanna."

"Any sons?"

McCoy closed his tricorder. "Nope, just my daughter."

"How old is she?"

"Twenty last month. She's studying to be a nurse."

Hernandez sat up and studied McCoy with his wild eyes. "Does she look
like you? Blue eyes, brown hair?'

"Oh, yeah, she's got my eyes." McCoy stood up. "But she's got her
mother's red hair. She doesn't really look like either of us. She's
got a round face like me but her momma's refined features... Pretty as
a peach."

Hernandez chuckled. "Ever want more? Kids, I mean."

"My wife and I are divorced, and I'm not involved, despite what you
may have thought."

Hernandez laughed out loud. "I'm crazy! What I think is madness. But
I'm not the only one who thinks it, does that make everyone else crazy
too?"

"I don't know, but they didn't steal shuttlecrafts."

"I'm innocent by reason of insanity," he joked.

McCoy chuckled. "I'm a doctor, not a lawyer. I'll let them handle
this."

"Lawyers make me look sane. I bet you're a good father."

"Not as good as I'd have liked to be. I'd change a lot if I could."

"It must be nice, having kids."

"Best thing in the universe. I love my daughter to death, and we get
along great."

Hernandez nodded and yawned. "I'm tired. Stealing shuttlecrafts is
exhausting work."

"Well, before I go, I have a few questions I need to ask you." The
unsaid 'before you start raving again' hung in the air like a foul
stench.

"Ask, but I may not answer."

"Where were you going?"

"To see my niece."

"Where is she?"

"With her papi, my brother."

"Are they on a planet, a space station, or a ship?"

"None of the above."

It was like playing twenty-God-damned-questions! "An asteroid? A
moon?"

"Yes."

"To which?"

"A moon."

"Luna, or some other moon?"

"Yes."

"Which one?"

"Another moon."

"Damnit, man, you keep givin' me circular answers and I'll never know
where that girl is!"

"I think that's the point, Doc. Sorry, but I won't endanger her or my
brother."

"Is she the only baby you made?"

"No, of course not." After a long pause, Hernandez muttered, "Even I
don't always get things right on my first try."

McCoy shuddered. "How many did you lose?"

Hernandez lay back on his cot. "About seven. That isn't counting the
attempts that never actually conceived."

McCoy sighed and looked away. "My God, seven?'

"Seven. Two of them paired up YY. A Boy is XY and a girl is XX. YY is
dead."

"I know my basic biology, Jeraldo."

"Yeah. The others died in improperly balanced amniotic fluid. Teresa
was the first, hopefully of many. The Hernandezes believe in big
families."

"Why not adopt?"

"There's nothing quite like holding your own child in your arms... I
lost my baby boy to SIDS when I was younger."

I'm so sorry Jeraldo. I really am." McCoy crossed his arm. "So, why
not research SIDS prevention or something?"

"It's called sudden infant death syndrome for a reason, Doc. Besides,
Ivan was always a better 'parent', and he's always wanted a baby of
his own for so long. My baby... He was born out of wedlock. I don't
really want kids of my own."

McCoy sighed and left the cell and reactivated the force field behind
him.

---
Chapter 4: Thirty Seconds Too Late
---

McCoy went to the bridge. Kirk cast a glance at him from over his
shoulder.

"How is he, Bones?"

McCoy shrugged. "He's lucid at the moment, but a bit too lucid to tell
us where his brother and the baby are. He never was stupid."

"Why the long face?"

McCoy looked up with surprise. Spock wasn't the only one who could
hide his emotions; he hadn't realized he was letting his discomfort
regarding the seven stillborn babies show.

"Hernandez told me he lost seven babies before Teresa."

"Who?" Kirk asked.

"Oh, sorry. That's the baby girl's name. Teresa."

"I see. Look, Bones, don't let it bother you. Babies are stillborn all
the time."

"Maybe, but I don't have to like it."

"That, Doctor," Spock said, not even looking up from his scanner, "is
why you are a doctor and Mr. Hernandez is in a cell."

"Are you saying my compassion is actually a good thing?"

"I merely stated that your desire to preserve life, rather than your
ability to disregard death, makes you a more adequate surgeon."

"Gentlemen, I don't want an argument right now. I still have a
headache from listening to Hernandez's raving a while ago," Kirk
interrupted before McCoy could reply. McCoy just nodded instead.

Uhura looked up from her station, a very confused expression on her
face.

"Captain?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Something on the ship is receiving a distress call."

"Something... on the ship? Not the ship itself?"

"Yes sir, something on the ship."

"Perhaps Hernandez's shuttlecraft, Captain," Spock suggested.

"Can you intercept the signal, Lieutenant?"

"Of course, Captain."

"Do it."

A brief static sound could be heard and then the shrill sound of a
baby crying.

"Jeraldo, Jeraldo, answer me por favor! Teresa is sick... We think it
may have to do with some genetic instability,"

"Lieutenant, can you respond?" McCoy snapped.

"I'll try, sir." She pushed a few buttons. "Audio only, sir."

"Jeraldo, the tricorder shows her immune system is in overdrive, but
she's killing her own cells. We don't know what to do!"

"Mr. Hernandez, this is the USS Enterprise, can you read us?" Kirk
interrupted.

"Dios, I, I just wanted to talk to my brother... "

"Ivan, this is Doctor McCoy. I want to help you."

"We have your brother in custody, Mr. Hernandez," Tzu stated.

"McCoy? My brother mentioned a McCoy... But if you are a doctor you
have to be able to help us. Senor, we need all the help we can get."

Kirk walked over to Spock's station as McCoy spoke with Ivan. "Can you
trace the signal?" he muttered in a low tone.

"I am attempting to do so."

"McCoy's doing his best, but we need to get that little girl to
sickbay, now."

McCoy continued to talk to Hernandez. "Is the injection helping?"

"No, senor... The white corpuscles are still working like mad... 
Wait, the tricorder says... Santa Maria..."

"What? Ivan, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's happening!"

"Her genetic matrix is breaking down! She's dying, senor!"

McCoy whipped his head over to Kirk and Spock. "We need to be there
NOW!"

"Mr. Hernandez, can you tell us your location?"

"Uh, a moon...  Thoralis 6 I think, or is it Lokina 7... Senor, I
don't know..."

"I have the coordinates, Captain. Thoralis 7," Spock said, sending the
coordinates to Chekov's station.

"Mr. Chekov, set coordinates and take us there, maximum warp," Kirk
ordered.

"Aye, Keptin. Estimated time to arrival, 13 minutes."

"Ivan, we're coming to help the girl, but if you have any shields to
keep people out, you have to lower them so we can beam in." McCoy
looked back at Kirk. "If we're gong to help her, we need to be there
faster. I have a genetic stabilizer in Sickbay, but it'll do her no
good in ten minutes."

"I'll talk to Scotty."

Spock wordlessly counted the seconds. It took 630 seconds... 10.5
minutes to reach Thoralis 7. He privately hoped McCoy had been
incorrect in how long the genetic destabilization would take, or that
McCoy had given a smaller estimate in order to allow him more time to
work with the girl. Unfortunately, for the first time it seemed to
Spock, McCoy's estimate was perfectly accurate. If the ship had
arrived 30 seconds sooner, the baby Teresa might have still been
alive. "Kirk to Tzu."

Commander Tzu clicked the comm. panel in the brig on. "Tzu here."

"We're taking a brief detour to Thoralis 7—"

"No!" Jeraldo yelled, jumping up from his cot in his cell. "Why? How
did you know?"

"Your brother called us. Teresa...  Didn't make it, Jeraldo. Bones did
all he could, but... it was too late. I'm sorry. Kirk out."

Tzu looked over at Hernandez. The lieutenant looked horrified, all his
muscles tensed like a beast in a cage, seeing its prey. "It's over
then, Hernandez. Your project is done."

"She was innocent!" Hernandez growled. "She was a baby."

"McCoy did all he could. If you had told us where she and your brother
were, then we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Do you have any idea what it means to care about another human
being?"

"Human beings? Yes. I keep freaks like you and your brother from
hurting normal people when you try to play God."

Hernandez hurled himself against the force field with all his might.
The light in the room was blinding. When Tzu could see clearly again,
he saw Hernandez lying unconscious on the floor.

"Damnit." Tzu swore, grabbing a tricorder and lifting the force field
to Hernandez's cell. When he crouched by the madman's side, a fist
shot out – lightning fast – and rendered Tzu truly unconscious on the
floor.

"Idiot," Hernandez grumbled as he pulled himself to his feet, taking
Tzu's phaser and dusting his shirt off. "When the wind is southerly, I
know a hawk from a handsaw." He laughed harshly. "Don't you, Mr. Tzu?"

As he left, he closed the force field behind him.

---

Just in case you don't speak Spanish...

-Por favor means 'please'.

-Dios means 'God'

-Senor means 'Mister' or 'Sir' (Thanks to Allyp for fixing my
spelling!)

-Santa Maria means 'Saint Mary'

Forgive me if you do speak Spanish and I misused any of the
expressions in the story.

---
Chapter 5: Adios, Papi
---
Nyota:
---

She gasped when she saw him holding the phaser. The captain and doctor
spun around to look at her.

"My God, Hernandez, put that down!" McCoy shouted.

She reached for the security alert button...

"Don't even try it, Miss Uhura. I've knocked out the whole
communications relay...  No one knows I'm here, and no one's going to
know."

"Jeraldo, put that down. There's no reason to-" McCoy started.

"Shut up, old man!" Hernandez shouted. "You've stolen everything from
me! Do you have any idea how much I've wanted to be able to tell my
brother that he and his husband could have kids of their own? How much
I've wanted to bring life and joy where before it was impossible?"

"Look, son, put the phaser down. We'll talk about this,"

"WHERE? In the brig? I'm tired of talking to you. Just hearing your
voice with that thick, disgusting drawl makes me SICK! No, I'm tired
of talking! This is it!"

The captain stood up. "Hernandez, put that down! That's an order,
Lieutenant!"

Hernandez was beginning to tremble. "I've devoted all my life to
this... And HE snatches it away. You killed her!"

"Her, her who?" Uhura asked, not realizing the words had left her
mouth.

"My niece... She was so beautiful... And that bastard killed her!"

McCoy took a tentative step up to Hernandez. "Jeraldo, I tried to help
her."

When the light flashed it was like time froze.

"Adios, Papi," Hernandez whispered.

McCoy just stood there, his eyes wide and his jaw shaking just a
little. The captain yelled something, but she couldn't tell what. She
didn't know how he got there, but in almost the blink of an eye Spock
had nerve-pinched Hernandez. Both Hernandez and McCoy collapsed to the
floor. The captain caught McCoy. No one caught Hernandez.

"Lieutenant, please go to Sickbay immediately. Tell Nurse Chapel and
Doctor M'Benga to get here expeditiously."

She wondered for a minute why Spock was talking to Hernandez, and why
was he talking so calmly? Shouldn't he at least be angry if...

"Lieutenant?"

Oh! Her! "Sorry, sir. I'm on my way."

"Once you have spoken with Sickbay, please inform Engineering that
communications are down, and assist them in repairs."

"Yes, sir."

She could hear the captain whispering commands to McCoy to stay alive.
She wished she knew how else she could help, but she was just a
lieutenant... What could she do?

---
(3rd person)
---

"I'll need you to come down with me to investigate the facility,
Spock." The captain muttered as he watched some medical orderlies lift
McCoy onto an anti-grav stretcher. Spock folded his hands behind his
back.

"Sir, I believe I would be of more use here."

"Doing what? The medical staff will take care of Bones and while were
in orbit of a moon deep within Federation space we don't need you on
the bridge." He stood and put a hand on Spock's shoulder. "Bones will
pull through on his own. He's made of tougher stuff than Hernandez
gives him credit for. Besides, the phaser was only set on stun."

"At point-blank range," Spock stated. Jim frowned.

"Regardless, we need you on the moon to scan the equipment Hernandez
was using to make all those kids. Maybe even figure out why the little
girl's genetic matrix broke down."

"Sir, any science or medical officer could-"

Kirk's grip on Spock's shoulder tightened and he looked the Vulcan
square in the eye, "My Chief Medical Officer is critical, and I'm not
willing to pull a single member of the medical team away from him
right now. I'm worried about Bones too, Spock, and regardless of
McCoy's condition, you are my Chief Science Officer."

Spock raised his head ever so slightly. "I am not worried, Captain.
That is an emotional state related to increased stress."

Kirk cracked a half smile. "Besides, Bones would never let you live it
down if he found out."

Spock only raised an eyebrow in reply.

---

When Jim and Spock beamed down with three security officers, Ivan and
Chaz Hernandez were waiting for them. Chaz was holding his daughter's
corpse. Jim lowered his head in deference to the two men's pain.

"I'm sorry for your loss, gentlemen."

"Gracias, senor. Your doctor did all he could. Is this he?" Ivan said,
looking at Spock. Spock shook his head.

"No sir. Doctor McCoy was-" he caught Jim's eye and noticed he was
being given the 'warning' look. "Is in surgery at the moment. I am a
science officer."

"Ah, si, senor. We are so sorry for all we have put you through... But
when Jeraldo told us he could give us our own child, we would have
done anything."

Kirk hesitated. In times like this, McCoy would normally have
interjected some emotional appeal in order to prevent these men from
being arrested.

/They lost their daughter and now you want to throw them in the brig?/

Jim shook his head. "Sirs, I need you to come up to the Enterprise
with us. What you were doing here is illegal and-"

"Are you going to arrest us?" Chaz whispered. He did not have a
Spanish accent like Ivan and Jeraldo.

Spock decided not to listen further. Jim was here to make the arrest;
Spock was here to scan. And so, he scanned. Much of the equipment
appeared to be functioning still. Perhaps the Hernandez's had
forgotten to turn the equipment off.

As he walked deeper into the laboratory, he heard a muffled whine
coming from the room next door. When he tried the door, he found it
was locked. He began to scan it.

Chaz looked over at Spock. "What's he doing?"

"Just scanning, Mister Hernandez," Jim said. Ivan whipped his head
over in Spock's direction.

"You cannot go in there, senor!" he snapped.

"I hear a noise," Spock said. "And my tricorder is showing a life-sign
in there. It appears to be deteriorating."

Chaz groaned and collapsed to his knees. "Not him too!" He wept.

"Can you help him, Senor, the way you would have helped our daughter?"
Ivan asked, wrapping his arms around his husband's head.

"Him? You made another one?!" Kirk exclaimed.

"A genetic stabilizer is universal, sir." Spock replied.

"The access code is 35782. Please, help him."

Spock keyed in the code. When the door opened, the whine became a
full-fledged scream. There was indeed another infant. In a crib with
an open incubation dome over the top lay a tiny, greenish boy,
writhing with apparent discomfort. His hair was black, long, still wet
with the amniotic fluids the child had apparently grown in, and
sticking to his ears and forehead.

"Is that your baby?" Kirk asked Ivan.

"No, senor. He is the baby Jeraldo asked us to make from the samples
he told us to get from Starfleet Medical."

"Whose DNA did you use?" Kirk asked, grabbing the man by the shoulders
urgently.

"We don't know!" Ivan whimpered. "He gave us sample numbers, which he
made us delete after we got the samples. He told us he didn't want any
loose ends!"

Spock held the baby in his arms. "Sir, we need to get this little one
to the ship immediately if we want to be able to help him."

Kirk nodded and opened his communicator. "Eight to beam up
immediately, Scotty."

As Spock felt the energy beam take hold of him, he felt a small
presence enter his mind and he was suddenly overcome with agonizing
pain.

---

More Spanish Stuff:

Adios: Good Bye

Papi: Father

Si: Yes

Gracias: Thank You

And in case it wasn't clear in the first five chapters of this story,
these names are pronounced phonetically:

Ivan: eevaan

Jeraldo: heraldo

Tzu: suu

S'Brin (The title and a character I keep alluding to in my
disclaimer): Suh-Brin

All other names and words are pronounced like they would be on the TV
show.

(Author's Note 2: For a picture I drew of Hernandez shooting McCoy
and a few cute comics relating to this story, feel free to go to my
website, the link of which is on my profile. All comics and pictures
are rated G and the standard disclaimers apply.)

---
Chapter 6: We're Doing All We Can
---

When they materialized in the transporter room, Spock fell to his
knees and screamed. Kirk and the others huddled around him. The room
was deafening with the baby and Spock's cries of pain. One of the
security guards ran to the comm. and called for a doctor.

"Spock, what's wrong?"

"Child... " Spock gasped out. "Touch-tele...  agony... take it!" Spock
groaned, thrusting the baby into Kirk's arms. Instantly, the intensity
was lessened, but he still felt a great deal of pain. However, this he
could control. The baby screamed louder.

"Spock, I didn't know your touch telepathy was so intense with
children," Kirk began, but then he wobbled slightly, "Oh no..."

"Captain?" Spock asked.

"I...  I feel like I've got a migraine all of a sudden." He ran a
finger along the slope of the baby's ear. "I think I know why."

If the green complexion had not been evidence enough, Spock's
suspicions that the child was Vulcanoid were confirmed when he saw the
tiny point at the tip of the little ear.

One of the medical orderlies came in and gave the baby a shot of the
genetic stabilizer. She offered to scan Spock, but he declined. Kirk
began bouncing the child in his arms some and the boy calmed down a
great deal.

"All better now, aren't you, little guy? Did you name him, Mr.
Hernandez?"

"No, senor. Jeraldo wanted to give this little one to his own Papis.
We didn't think it would be right to name a little one who wasn't
ours," Ivan replied softly.

"How's McCoy?" Kirk asked the orderly. She shook her head.

"Doctor M'Benga is doing his best, sir, and all the nurses, too. I'm
really the only one we felt we could spare. Should I set up a
pediatric care unit in Sickbay for this little guy?"

"That would be a good idea. When he's really stable and fed and
clothed and all that, get a DNA scan done. I want to know whose DNA
these two stole."

"Stole? From where? If we had a specific database to search, it will
be quicker."

"Starfleet Medical," Spock stated.

"Really? Okay. Well, could one of you bring him to Sickbay? I need my
hands free to set up the pediatric unit."

"I will," Spock said. "Hopefully, with my touch-telepathy, I can keep
the child from crying while the Sickbay staff works."

Kirk nodded and handed the baby off. "Plus, I think he likes you
better," he said with a smile. Spock merely cocked an eyebrow in
response.

---
Christine:
--

She gasped when she saw he was still here. It wasn't like him to stay
longer than necessary. She supposed even he could be moved by this
horror. He stood beside the biobed staring intently at the monitor.

"Mister Spock?"

"What is his condition, Nurse?"

She walked over and stood in front of him, looking only at her boss
rather than the man she'd pined after for all these years. "The phaser
was on heavy stun, thank God. His ribcage absorbed most of the blast,
but..."

"But?"

"The blast caused his heart to... restart, as it were. Like a
defibrillator would. The rhythm was thrown off, and so Doctor McCoy's
body has all but shut down, trying to right itself. He's in a coma at
present."

Medical mode was so much easier to be in when talking to him... 
anything else and she ran the risk of breaking down... Wanting to be
held or to be so overly emotional... It didn't matter. He didn't want
her either way. She needed to get over him.

But she couldn't.

Spock turned and looked at Len. She wondered if it was because he knew
what she was thinking, feeling. That was ridiculous.

"Is he on artificial respiration?"

"No, but his breathing is weak and irregular. We're keeping an eye on
him, Mister Spock." You don't have to worry, she thought.

But how could she think that when all of sickbay was worried sick at
the thought that he might not come out of this coma? To her knowledge,
he didn't have much to live for. Oh, there was his job, but the
mission was winding down and he'd told her before that he didn't know
what he was going to do when it ended... And there was his daughter,
but she was a grown woman, already engaged, it wasn't as though she
would stick around to keep him company.

It seemed everyone was willing to desert him. Even she herself was
planning on returning to med-school to become a full-fledged MD. The
captain was going to become an admiral, and Spock...  She didn't want
to think about what he was going to do. It broke her heart to try.

"I shall as well," Spock stated.

"What?"

She never thought she'd see him wait at someone's bedside while they
were...  That just seemed too emotional to her!

"The Hernandez's are in custody, and we are en route to Star-Base 6 to
deposit them. I am not required there and Doctor McCoy... "

She could see the gaping holes in Spock's logic, even from here.

"I'm sure he'll feel better knowing you were here, but... "

"I would not know, Christine."

She sighed. Of course he would. He and McCoy argued about things like
that every day. But it wasn't her squabble. They were both foolish
boys and she was a hopeless woman. She could never understand them.

---
Chapter 7: Baby Blues
---

Leonard McCoy opened his eyes to see the drab grey ceiling of Sickbay.
There certainly were better things to wake up to. He grunted and tried
to sit up, only to feel a heavy hand rest on his shoulder. He looked
over to see his old friend and co-worker, Dr. Geoff M'Benga.

"Don't try and sit up too fast, Len. You don't want your blood
pressure to drop and cause you to pass out."

"What happened? How'd I get here? Last thing I remember was bein' on
the bridge."

"Well, Hernandez shot you."

"What?! He shot me? That son-of-a-bitch! When I get my hands on him,
I'll-" Len tried to sit up again, but a wave of vertigo knocked him
back.

"I told you not to sit up so fast! And you aren't going anywhere, not
until I clear you fit for duty."

"I'm fine, Geoff. Once I get back on my feet," Len said, sitting up
slowly. "I'll be set to take on the-" as he kicked his legs over the
edge of the biobed, he felt woozy, "whole god-damned world. Uhg, I
feel like crap."

"You don't look much better. I can clear you to get your rest in your
quarters if you like, but considering your condition, I'll have to
have someone come in and check on you periodically."

"Nah," McCoy sighed, "I'd rather be here, where I can keep an eye on
things. It'll give me a chance to catch up on my paperwork."

M'Benga hummed in reply. "I figured you'd say that."

McCoy knit his brows, "What's that wailing noise? It sounds like
something cryin'."

M'Benga grinned. "Our newest patient. Are you up to walking? I can
show him to you."

"I've seen every lieutenant, commander, and yeoman on this ship,
Geoff. I don't need you to,"

"Come on, Len. You'll like this."

McCoy shrugged and slowly pushed himself off the biobed. Geoff gripped
him under one arm and led him to a private room off the main section
of sickbay. Inside a little crib had been set up and a monitor was
flashing silently.

"Jeraldo made another one?" McCoy breathed, hardly believing his eyes.
He shrugged M'Benga off his arm and walked over to the tiny baby's
bedside.

"Apparently, he stole DNA samples from Starfleet Medical for this one;
there's no Hernandez blood in this kid at all. But there is Vulcan
blood."

"The pointy ears clued me in on that, Geoff. There can't be many
Vulcans in Starfleet." McCoy picked the little one up and tickled him.
"Shush, little guy. Whasa matter? Nobody's payin' any attention to
you?" The baby sobbed again.

"You're right, there's not. There are only 236 Vulcan DNA samples in
Starfleet Medical, and that's including any and all ambassadors and
Vulcans who man Starfleet vessels."

"Well, that's good. I guess you've pinned who the baby's daddy is
then."

"One of them. The other one is human. It'll take a while longer to
identify that parent."

"Well, don't make me guess, sonny. Who's the lucky father?"

"Spock."

McCoy laughed. "That's a laugh, Geoff! Spock? Who-boy, poor kid. I
hope he doesn't take after that side of his family."

"Spock's not all bad, Len."

"Ha!"

"You know he waited by your bed side for eight hours while you were
out? Apparently, when he noticed your life signs stabilizing he took
off, probably so you wouldn't get on his case."

McCoy sniffed the baby's diaper. "Nothing wrong there. Anyway, Geoff,
you know I don't really dislike Spock. I just like giving him He... 
Heck," McCoy amended, not wanting to swear around the baby. "Lord
knows if I didn't, no one else would."

M'Benga shrugged. "The little guy's probably just hungry. The problem
is: the formulae we've tried haven't been balanced for this kid's
needs. Too much copper, not enough iron, wrong calcium to vitamin
ratio... "

"Is there any one he seems to like best?"

"The standard human formula."

"Well, until we figure out the right ratio, we'll feed him a standard
human formula and supplement the other compounds."

"Won't it be too heavy in iron?"

"Maybe, but the kid needs to eat something. I'm not on duty, so I'm
leaving you in charge of the formula thing. Replicate me a bottle,
okay?"

M'Benga rolled his eyes and went to do so. McCoy made a face at the
baby.

"You're gonna need a name, little guy. Bet you don't like the sound of
Spock Junior. No... " McCoy wiggled a finger in front of the baby's
nose. The baby giggled, but then sobbed again. "You've got cute eyes,
kiddo. I didn't know Vulcan babies had baby blues. Must be all that
human in you. Wonder if it'll pass."

"Here's the bottle, Len," M'Benga said walking back in. "I heard you
muttering about his blue eyes. I ran tests; that's his genetic color,
not merely a lack of melanin. Very odd though, do you know the odds of
a Vulcan/human crossbreed having blue eyes?"

"Well, Amanda had blue eyes, didn't she?" McCoy took the bottle and
put it into the little guy's mouth. The baby started drinking.

"Um, no. They were hazel."

"Oh well, that's not important. She could have carried the gene and
passed it to Spock. It's possible for the two blue genes to show
through. Theoretically, anyone who carries the blue gene at all, even
if they don't express it, could be this kid's other dad."

"Unfortunately, that doesn't narrow things down any."

"But it does narrow things down some. How long does the computer think
the scanning would take?"

"Three days. That gives it time to scan every male DNA in the
Starfleet Medical. This way, we don't miss anything."

"Well, have the computer scan anyone who's served on the Enterprise
within the past three years first. I think Jeraldo was trying to make
a point, making Spock's son."

"What if he didn't pick Spock for any particular reason? What if he
just made the numbers up?"

"Then we'll find the sample eventually. It's not a problem, is it?"

M'Benga winced somewhat.

"Geoff...  If there's gonna be a problem, I need to know."

"I'm not sure. You know how guarded Vulcan's are about their
telepathic aspects, but when I was serving on Vulcan, I noticed
parents would almost immediately form bonds with their newborn
children. I don't know if that's because it's a physical necessity or
a cultural nuance. I was going to ask Spock when he came back to check
on you."

"Well, time may be of the essence!" McCoy half stormed, then once the
vertigo hit him again, half staggered over to the comm panel on the
wall. He leaned heavily against it, still holding the baby, and
slammed the comm with his free hand. "McCoy to bridge."

Kirk looked up from his fuel consumption report. "Bones! You're up!"

"Darn right I am! Is Spock there?"

"I am," Spock replied looking up from his scanner. "Should you not be
resting?"

"He should," M'Benga interrupted.

"I am resting. This wall I'm leaning against is very comfortable."

"Are you sure you're okay? You aren't swearing..." Kirk joked.

"Yes, I'm sure! But I'm holdin' a little baby who doesn't need to be
hearing my foul language."

"You should hold children more often then, Doctor."

"Oh, a fine time to crack a joke Mister Spock. Now, get your butt down
to Sickbay. I have a few serious things I need to talk to you about.
McCoy out."

Kirk chuckled. "I told you M'Benga would rat you out. You should have
just stayed and made up your own excuse for being there."

Spock looked only the slightest bit uncomfortable with the notion, but
only the well-trained eye would have noticed.

---
Chapter 8: I'll Try My Best To Be Logical
---

When Spock entered Sickbay, he was mildly surprised to notice that the
good doctor was on none of the biobeds, nor was he pacing angrily in
the main chamber waiting for him. He heard muffled speech coming from
the pediatric unit. When he looked in to the room he noticed that
McCoy was sitting in a chair and babbling at the little boy much in
the way he had babbled at Eleen's son a few years ago. The boy was
sucking on a bottle of formula.

"Doctor, you asked for me?"

McCoy looked up from the baby and nodded. "Yeah, please, come in. Sit
down."

Spock barely crinkled his brow. "As you wish." This didn't sound like
one of McCoy's tirades on expressing emotions.

"I owe you congratulations; this little guy shares half of your
genetic makeup."

Spock blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"This boy is your son," McCoy said with a smile. "Congrats!"

Spock looked at the wall behind McCoy. "Are you certain?"

"You try arguing with the computer," McCoy joked. "You're a daddy,
Spock. Now, I know that you may not be prepared for something like
this, but still you should try and be pleased about it."

"I had no intention of becoming a father," Spock stated, decidedly not
looking at McCoy.

"Plenty of men think the same thing when they go out for drinks one
fateful night. Now, I know that you did absolutely nothing to bring
this upon yourself, and I'm not going to thrust the baby into your
arms and tell you what to do. We are looking for the child's other
biological father as well, so I'll probably be giving someone else
this same speech."

"Doctor, I have no notions about raising children. Nor do I have any
interest in forsaking my career in order to raise a child."

McCoy frowned and the baby started to cry. The doctor looked down at
the child and tried to soothe him. "Shush, Blue. Shush. It's okay,
I've gotcha. . . "

Spock's shoulders slumped just the tiniest fraction. "He is upset
because you are angry. If you lay him in his crib, he will calm down."

"Good to know. . .  Shush, lil' blue. It's okay. Here now," McCoy
said, standing and laying the baby in the nearby crib. "You get some
rest. Doctor McCoy's gonna talk some sense into your daddy, okay?
Yeah. . . "

Spock tensed his shoulders back to their original position. Sense?
What right did McCoy presume he had to tell Spock about sense?

"Look Spock, I know your career is important to you, but you have to
realize that a child isn't something you can just ignore. Geoff tells
me that Vulcan parents form telepathic bonds with their babies. Now,
I'm not sure if that's a cultural practice, or a physical necessity,
but it might be something you need to do, and once you do, can you
ignore it?" Spock didn't respond, apparently considering the issue, so
McCoy continued, "I'm not telling you that you have to sacrifice
everything for a baby you had no part in making, but I am telling you
that while he's here and while he does share half of your DNA, you
need to start thinking about his future. Now, it's your prerogative to
give full custody to his other biological parent or, if he won't take
him, give him up for adoption. But until then, I can't morally let you
dump this kid off as Sickbay's responsibility."

"What do you propose I do? I am required on the Bridge," Spock pointed
out.

"Only for one shift a day. Usually, you work two. Now, I'm going to
try and work out something for you in the most logical way I can, so
you help me out with this."

Spock looked at McCoy with an inquisitive expression. "Proceed."

"You don't have a crib in your quarters. We do have a crib here and
Sickbay needs to keep an eye on the baby in case some kind of genetic
abnormality or cellular instability occurs. Therefore, the baby will
have to live in Sickbay. Do you agree?"

"Yes."

"You are the First Officer and Chief Science Officer of this ship. You
have to be available twenty-four hours a day, in case of some kind of
emergency, but technically you only have to be on the bridge for one
shift."

"I serve as the Captain during the graveyard shift."

"Well, until better arrangements can be made, Jim and Scotty are going
to have to fight over which one of them has to take graveyard shift
for a while. But I am aware that the universe is a dangerous place,
and so I will let you work longer than one shift per day in the event
of an emergency. That means only when we are in Red Alert or if Jim
calls you down. The choice you have is do you want to sleep during
night shift, or graveyard shift, because which ever of those you don't
pick is the shift you have to spend here in Sickbay taking care of
your son."

Spock looked over at the crib his son was sleeping in. His son. . . 
He held his hands tightly behind his back. "This is most frustrating."

McCoy sighed, "Fatherhood is, but its also one of the most rewarding
experiences in the universe."

"It would have been more logical for Hernandez to create a child from
your DNA, rather than mine. You are the one with whom he was most
aggrieved, and you can certainly raise a child better than I."

"Because I've done it before?" McCoy asked calmly, sensing – more so
than seeing – his friend's discomfort with the issue.

"In part," Spock replied with the barest hint of a sigh, "but also
because you can. . .  care for him in a manner which I cannot."

McCoy was surprised by Spock's statement, "Now, don't you dare delude
yourself into thinking your logic denies you the right to love your
son. He may have never said it, and it's possible he never will, but I
know your full-blooded Vulcan father loves you."

Spock raised an eyebrow, "It would not be logical."

"Love, not even paternal love, never is, but it won't kill you."

Spock thought about that for a moment, then stood and walked over to
the crib and looked at the little boy. As it turned out, the baby
wasn't sleeping. "He has blue eyes!" he noted with mild surprise.

"Yeah," McCoy chuckled, "Geoff says they're his real eye color. That's
why I was calling him 'Blue' a while ago."

"Can he see?" Spock asked in a low voice.

McCoy blinked. He felt like a fool; it had not occurred to him to
think that blue eyes might indicate blindness in some species. "I
think so. He giggled when I waved my finger in front of him, but I was
talking, too. I can get Geoff to run a test, if you like. But it's
very likely that's just his eye color. I mean he's mostly human,
right? My eyes are blue and I can see just fine. Are blue eyes
characteristic of blindness on Vulcan?"

"No, but I. . .  I have never seen a Vulcanoid with blue eyes. Gray
eyes are incredibly rare, but blue is unheard of."

McCoy nodded. "I can run a quick test for you, if you like, but it
won't be official."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I am technically on medical leave until Geoff declares me fit
for duty, but waving a little scanner around the boy's head shouldn't
strain me too much." McCoy walked over to his desk and grabbed his
medical tricorder. "May I have your permission to proceed?"

"Yes," Spock said with a nod.

McCoy scanned the little boy's eyes. The results had not yet
registered, but McCoy was fairly certain the baby was fine, especially
when the boy reached for the scanner with a tiny groping hand. He
checked the tricorder.

"Well, according to this, he's fine. His vision isn't 20/20 yet, but
he's a baby, so that's to be expected."

Spock looked at the baby who blinked at him.

"Why don't you say hello?" McCoy asked.

"He would not understand me."

"That's not the point." McCoy said. Spock could detect the same
sternness that he usually put in his lectures about emotions.

"Hello, my son," Spock said. The baby's head rolled a little to face
Spock and he made a gurgling noise.

Spock looked at McCoy and blinked with surprise. "He could not have
understood me."

McCoy patted Spock's shoulder. "I'm not so sure."

Spock could tell McCoy was not going to explain this to him. "Most
illogical."

McCoy just grinned and went back to sit at his desk and work on some
old reports.

---
Chapter 9: He Wavered
---

The next day everyone had either congratulated Spock on his new baby
or gone to Sickbay to find out if the rumors were true. McCoy and
M'Benga eventually got so swamped with visitors that they had to allot
certain visiting hours so the baby could sleep and McCoy could
recuperate without a pack of ensigns driving him wild.

"Heck, Len," M'Benga once commented, "I don't think it matters if we
find the other father! It seems like the whole ship wants to adopt
him!"

McCoy wasn't so sure. At least five blue-eyed junior officers came out
of the nursery wringing their hands and wondering the same thing: What
if it's mine? Even men with brown eyes looked concerned; many folks
had blue-eyed family members and quite a few of them were worried that
they'd somehow offended Hernandez. Could he have given them this child
out of spite? It could ruin a career officer, who, not wanting to
leave the child in the hands of the foster homes, would have to resign
their commission and try and learn to be a parent, or it could destroy
any other relationships: how many women would believe that the child
was a genetically engineered baby and not the result of a one-night
stand? True, some men looked hopeful, but they were few in number.

Even McCoy found himself wondering what he would do if the baby ended
up being his. He was retiring anyway. . .  If he could find a way to
sort out his . . .  No, Len told himself, thinking like that would
only get your hopes up and you know how that's always worked out for
you. So, instead of dwelling on who the parent might be, he finished
his reports. It was quicker work than he expected, so he spent most of
his time taking care of the little boy. His reasoning was that this
way the nurses could deal more with patients and he could get some
rest. M'Benga thought about not allowing him, but Christine pointed
out that the baby needed attention, and tending to an infant had to be
easier on McCoy than fretting over Hernandez's medical condition or
getting mad because he couldn't patch up Scotty's latest burn or
lecture Ensign DeSoto for not wearing her gloves in the lab again.

Spock came back to Sickbay while McCoy was sleeping that afternoon. He
had commed a Vulcan healer to inquire about the bonds between parents
and children. The news was not good.

He quickly walked into the nursery and took the baby gently from
Lieutenant Uhura's arms.

"Would you give us some privacy, Lieutenant?"

"Sure, Mr. Spock. Congratulations, by the way. He's precious."

Spock was getting tired of hearing people congratulate him.

"Thank you."

She left and he took the baby's hand. "Hello, again, my son."

His mind could not truly enter the baby's mind; its telepathic
pathways were far too fragile and it could cause brain damage. Instead
he searched for a groping tendril of thought – something the child had
been emanating since he had woken in the incubation chamber. He took
hold of it and could feel a sudden sense of security. It was not his
own sense, he realized, but the baby's. Then contentment. . .  It was
difficult to keep the emotions separate from his own consciousness. He
wavered slightly on his feet, but was quickly steadied by his vigorous
control. He released the baby's hand and blinked.

"Fascinating."

"What is, Mr. Spock?" A rough, almost nasally voice said from behind
him. Spock turned to see Commander Tzu looking at him.

"Hello, Commander. I was referring to my parental bond with my son."

Tzu shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Would the child's other parent
have to bond with him, too?"

Spock looked at the baby. "Not unless I took a Vulcan mate. Then he or
she could bond with him instead. But on his own, my son will only bond
with his biological parent."

Tzu furrowed his brows. "I see. What are you going to do with the boy?
Keep him? Give him up for adoption?"

"I believe I will let the child's other father decide if he wishes to
keep the boy. I cannot."

Tzu walked over to Spock's side and looked at the baby. "He's raving
mad."

"My son?" Spock asked, confused by the comment.

Tzu shook his head and crossed his arms. "No, Hernandez. He's insane."

"I believe, sir, that is why he was institutionalized."

"He was institutionalized for having a nervous breakdown and
threatening to kill himself. I was referring to this. . .  experiment
of his." Tzu's tone was one of disgust.

Spock's expression did not show the offence Spock felt about hearing
his son referred to like that. This feeling was not logical; the child
was the result of an experiment. It was not as though Spock had a
mate. The baby began to fuss.

"The child is not harming anyone," Spock pointed out. "One can only be
punished for conducting an experiment which proves harmful in some
way."

"Not harming anyone?" Tzu barked, "Of course he's harmful! Look
around! Half the men on this ship are on pins and needles, wondering
what they'll do if the baby is theirs! Many of them have already
written up their resignation forms, and the rest are horribly
distracted from their work."

Spock blinked at Tzu and put the baby in his crib. "Why are you so
upset, Commander? It would not be logical for you to be concerned
about the running of this ship. You do not serve aboard her, and
tomorrow we will reach Starbase 12 and the child will no longer be of
your concern."

"Unless he's mine," Tzu pointed out. Spock looked the short Asian man
up and down and raised an eyebrow. "I know you're thinking that it's
unlikely, but my mother was of American descent and she had blue eyes.
. .  I cannot afford a child. My wife would be furious and my career
would be over, even if I gave the child up for adoption. The politics
of being where I am. . .  I'm trying to become Head of Starfleet
Security. If I go home with an illegitimate child or even if I give it
up for adoption, it won't matter. My political adversaries would be
all over me; I'd never get promoted!"

Spock did not reply. The baby was wailing now.

"Hernandez told me when he was in his cell. . .  He said I could use a
baby to soften me a little bit. That I could stand to have to get to
know someone for once." The Commander straightened his shoulders and
let his arms fall to his side. "I have a report to fill out, Mr.
Spock. If this child turns out to be mine, I'm not going to bond with
him."

"If you do not, the boy could suffer from serious psychological
damage, even mental retardation."

Tzu shook his head. "I don't care. I won't let myself be connected to
this. . .  freak of nature. This faggot's dream come true. No," he
spat and wheeled around. "Good day."

Spock did not look at the Commander as he walked out of the room. The
Vulcan's hands were shaking ever-so-slightly, even as he gripped the
rail of the crib. Humans claimed that they were above hate and
prejudice, but it seemed to Spock that that only applied when they
were not faced with danger or discomfort. "Good day, Commander." The
little boy sobbed a little and he turned his watery eyes up at Spock,
almost pleading for him to feel better so he wouldn't feel sad, too.
Spock raised his mental shields and the boy sniffled away another sob,
now more at ease.

"Some people can be such pigs," a more familiar voice muttered.

"Hello, Doctor," Spock stated without turning to face him. "Has Dr.
M'Benga been able to narrow down the list of potential fathers?"

"A bit, but it's still inconclusive. You'll be pleased to know that
Jim isn't the father," McCoy joked, trying to lighten the mood. "And
neither is Geoff."

Spock did not bother to comment. "Should you not be resting?"

"The baby woke me up, and I'm a light sleeper." McCoy walked over and
picked the boy up, holding him close. "Shush, Blue. It's okay, that
mean ol' man's gone. Yes he is. . .  Doctor McCoy's gotcha, see?"
McCoy asked gently tickling the baby with one finger. The little boy
giggled and took hold of McCoy's long finger with a tiny green hand.
McCoy wavered slightly and nearly fell over.

"Are you alright, Doctor?" Spock asked, quickly grasping McCoy's
shoulder to steady him. McCoy's arms tightened around the baby, not
wanting to drop him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. That shot's been playing havoc with my blood pressure
all day. It was just mild vertigo, Spock."

Spock noticed that the baby was sound asleep in the doctor's strong
arms. He blinked. Where had that thought come from? McCoy cleared his
throat. Spock dropped his hand.

"You should rest," he murmured. "I don't want you to drop my son."

McCoy nodded. Spock took the baby and bounced him in his arms, trying
to think about where these bizarre thoughts may have come from.
Unfortunately, he couldn't focus; but for the most odd of reasons –
his arms had brushed against McCoy's.

And it felt strangely, quite nice.

He would meditate on it the instant he could leave Sickbay.

---
Chapter 10: Being Needed
---

/The baby was crying. I slowly tried to rise and tend to him, but my 
mate was up first.

"Don't worry; I'll get him. You go on back to sleep."

I nodded and rest my head on the pillow, watching my mate rise. He
faded into the darkness and as he entered the baby's alcove, a light
switched on. My mate picked the little one up, their silhouette
interesting and pleasant. I could hear my lover humming an old Earth
lullaby to the little one and could see the shadow rocking back and
forth. The baby's wails softened.

I rose from the bed and replicated a bottle of formula. When I walked
in the sight of my mate –shirtless and gently rocking our little one
in his arms – stole my breath. I offered my love the bottle.

"I thought I told you that you could sleep."

"I did not wish too. He is hungry."

"I know; I can feel it. Here," he replied, taking the bottle and
putting it into the baby's mouth. My mate half smiled at me. He looked
tired, but peaceful nonetheless. I walked behind him and wrapped my
arms around him, looking at our son.

"He is so like you," I commented. My lover scoffed. "You cannot tell?"

"Vulcan ears, Vulcan blood, Vulcan telepathy – he's nothing like me."

"He has your eyes, Leonard."

My mate tensed in my grip. . . /

McCoy sat up right on his biobed, gasping for breath. For a moment he
wondered where he was, but, as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he
realized he was in Sickbay. If he was here, where had he been before?
He closed his eyes and tried to remember, but he hadn't seen anything.
. .  Just himself holding little Blue. . .  But he hadn't been himself
at the time; he'd been Spock.

Len shivered at the memory. It felt so real. It must have been a
dream. He had had dreams about himself and Spock for years, but this
was over the top. It wasn't as physical, as base or sexual as all his
previous dreams, but he knew it wasn't a memory. Unfortunately.

"You're focusing too much on fantasy, Len," He reminded himself. "The
little one isn't yours; he can't be – and Spock. . .  He won't be and
you know it. He doesn't even want to be." He yawned. "It isn't
logical."

He got up and went to a nearby sink and splashed his face with water.
His hands were shaking. He knew he wasn't going to get any more sleep
any time soon. He went to the little one's nursery. The baby was
sleeping contentedly. McCoy walked over and stroked a finger along the
puffy cheek, getting a bit of drool on his finger in the process. He
wiped it on his pants and sighed.

"Hope isn't logical either. . . " he muttered.

He stood there for a while, just watching the baby breathe and
listening to the monitors beep in time to the boy's rapid heartbeat.
It was comforting. . .  He hadn't felt like this since Joanna had
moved out of the house. Even when she was a teenager, occasionally he
would crack her door just a tiny bit and watch her sleep. No matter
how old she got, she was always her daddy's baby girl. Maryanne
couldn't take her away in the custody hearing, and Starfleet couldn't
keep him away when he was stationed on alien worlds. But now Joanna
was all grown up. . .  A nurse at Emory Hospital. . .  Engaged –
perhaps this Simon fellow was the one who took her from him - No, she
was a grown woman. He didn't lose her. He was so proud of her but he
felt useless, like he wasn't needed anymore.

Or he had until this little boy had been dropped into his Sickbay.
Even if his career was winding down, even if his friends were going
their separate ways soon, and even if he didn't have a snowball's
chance in hell convincing Spock not to leave for wherever he called
it. . .  There was someone now who needed him. It was a nice feeling.

A nice feeling he shouldn't even have. The baby wasn't his – he
couldn't be. Hernandez hated him and the universe just didn't work
that way. There's no way something so wonderful could happen to him.
He didn't deserve it. . .

He heard the main Sickbay doors swoosh open.

"I'm in the Nursery, Geoff," McCoy whispered, not wanting to wake the
baby or worry M'Benga.

"That is nice to know, but I am not Doctor M'Benga."

McCoy looked over his shoulder. Spock stood just inside the nursery.
In the light of the monitors, the angles of his face looked sharper
and his dark eyes looked more intense. McCoy looked quickly back at
the baby, his face flushing for a reason he pretended not to
understand. "Oh. What brings you here? Couldn't sleep?"

"I could not focus on my meditation," Spock corrected him. "I decided
that I would tend to the child." He did not come over though. Out of
the corner of his eye, McCoy thought Spock looked distracted,
transfixed.

"He's sleeping peacefully. You should be, too. You have duty in a few
hours. . . "

"Two point four two three hours. . . " Spock whispered. McCoy's
shoulders tensed, but for once it wasn't because Spock's precision was
annoying him, but the tenor of his voice. . .  It sounded odd.

It sounded sensual.

"Well," McCoy said clearing his throat and trying to seem at ease, "I
should be asleep then. My blood pressure is still going haywire and
all these painkillers I'm on have me loopy." He tried to walk past
Spock, but the Vulcan put his hand out, pressing it against McCoy's
chest. He winced at the dull pain caused by the contact. Then McCoy
looked into the Vulcan's eyes and saw something he's never seen
directed at him before. . .

/Mine./

Len had seen Spock give Zarabeth that look, and T'Pring before her. It
was an incredibly possessive look, one that spoke not just of
ownership but also of something a great deal more intimate.

Len's only conclusion was that he was still dreaming.

"Good night, Spock," he said very sadly. "I'll see you in the
morning."

He pushed past Spock and lay back on his biobed.

Just as his eyes began to slide shut, he could hear the baby cry.

He wiped a tear off his own cheek and was quickly reclaimed by sleep.

---
Chapter 11: Blue
---

Spock watched the doctor lie on the biobed, slightly irritated that
McCoy had not stayed longer — though he knew this irritation was
illogical — then turned to look at the baby. The child was sleeping
peacefully, but Spock could feel an overwhelming sadness probing at
the edges of his mind. This sensation was not his own. He took a deep
breath and focused on it, looking for the source, but as soon as he
did the baby began to fuss. Spock sighed.

He reached for the little one and lifted him into his arms. The child
reached over Spock's shoulder, trying to grasp something now too far
away. Spock tried to comfort the little one with some success. He knew
McCoy would have been more a comfort to the child, but he did not wish
to wake the doctor just to calm a baby. Spock liked to think he was
capable of silencing an infant without his mate's assistance.

. . .  No, Doctor McCoy is not my mate.

Why had he thought of such a strange notion? The baby began to wail.
Spock sighed again and began to rock the baby. It was not logical for
him to consider McCoy his mate, or even a potential mate. The good
doctor greatly disliked him and they argued frequently. Simply being
fond of his son was not a criterion for choosing McCoy as his mate.

. . .  Doctor McCoy liking my son is no criterion. There is no
evidence to suggest the boy is anyone else's. My affection for the
boy, no matter the parentage is irrelevant.

The baby wailed louder.

"If you continue along this mode of communication, you are going to
disturb Doctor McCoy, and he is not well. Please be quiet," Spock told
the baby.

The baby let out another wail.

"You are almost as bad as he is. You cannot even speak and yet you
insist on arguing with me. If you keep this up, I will give you to
Nurse Brady."

An ample threat: Nurse Brady, as well as Nurse Chapel, seemed to have
a particular distaste for the little boy. Nurse Brady seemed to
dislike him because the boy could potentially be his son; Nurse Chapel
didn't like the boy because he wasn't her son. The boy didn't like
them because he could feel their distaste every time they tried to
hold him.

The little boy seemed to sense the warning Spock was giving him, and
stifled his next wail, sobbing instead.

"Thank you. Try and get some rest, little one. I am sure when you
wake, Doctor McCoy will play with you and perhaps Miss Uhura will
visit as well. I must retire."

Uhura, unlike Brady and Chapel, absolutely adored the baby – almost as
much as McCoy did. The baby grinned at the familiar sensation, then
blinked sleepily at Spock in the dim light and in a few moments, he
had dozed off in Spock's arms.

"I still attest that you cannot understand me," Spock stated, laying
the boy in the crib. Then, with a quick glance over his shoulder, he
pressed his forehead to the boy's tiny head, allowing feelings of
comfort and contentment to wash between them. The gesture was a common
Vulcan embrace between parents and small children. "Good night, my
son."

Just as he began to leave Sickbay, he looked at the doctor, now deeply
asleep on the biobed. He reached his hand out and gently placed it on
the human's shoulder. A wave of sadness swept through him and he
pulled his hand away as though burned. Could the feeling he received
earlier have been McCoy's? If so, how? They were not bonded. . .  It
was a puzzlement, and Spock intended to ask Dr. M'Benga about it the
next day.

---

When Doctor McCoy woke up again, Nurse Chapel was storming out of the
Nursery, wiping her tunic with a tissue and holding a diaper in her
other hand.

"Did he drool on you, Chris?"

"No," she grumped. "He was playing target practice. I think he was
aiming for my insignia. . .  or my eye."

McCoy snorted with laughter.

"It's not funny, Len!"

"Yes it is, Chris. Y'see, I had a daughter. I never had to worry
about, ahem, 'target practice', but even I know you put an open diaper
over the little guy before you change him!"

"Oh, well then, why don't you take care of this?" she snapped,
thrusting the soiled diaper at McCoy. McCoy laughed and took it from
her.

"Lord, is that a ripe stench." He laughed again and hopped off the
biobed, taking the waste to a disposal unit. "Is the little guy
changed?"

"Yes. I'm sure he misses you terribly. Why don't you make my life
easier and play with him?" She was very sarcastic.

"You don't like lil' Blue?"

"I like him well enough but he seems to have some problem with me!"
Chapel protested. "I've worked with babies for years, but this one
takes the cake. It must be genetic. No one in that family likes me."

"Sarek and Amanda liked you," McCoy countered, washing his hands in a
nearby sink.

Chapel grunted, and pushed McCoy away from the sink with her hip so
she could wash her hands.

McCoy walked into the Nursery and looked at the little boy in the
crib.

"Well, I hope you're proud of yourself. You hurt a lady's feelings.
You may be a Vulcan, but that gives you no right to. . . " He
faltered, stifling another laugh, "Um, disrupt a poor lady's
composure."

The little boy made a spit bubble and giggled when it popped. McCoy
felt a grin tugging at his lips.

"Well, I guess if you promise never to do it again. . . " He reached
into the crib and picked the little boy up. "I'll let this one
incident slide."

The baby clutched a tiny handful of McCoy's medical jumpsuit and
rested his head on the doctor's shoulder, reaching with the other hand
for the man's earlobe. McCoy offered him a finger instead. The little
boy tried to put it in his mouth.

"Nuh-uh, now, I just washed my hands. Don't you go tryin' to gobble
them up," McCoy joked.

"He cannot eat you; he has no teeth."

The comment reminded McCoy of his dream from the night before and he
shivered at the memory. "Spock, you can occasionally walk in and
announce yourself, maybe even say 'hello' instead of trying to correct
my musings to a tiny baby who can't understand a word I'm sayin',"
McCoy sighed, rounding on the Vulcan.

"I was merely attempting to put your concerns to rest."

"Well, thank you, sir, but the attempt was not necessary. Aren't you
supposed to be on duty?" he snapped.

"Jim suggested I come here because we are having a 'slow day'. Mr.
Chekov is manning my station."

McCoy felt his face begin to flush. "Oh." He cleared his throat.
"Well, you missed the fun part. Poor Chris had to change Blue here,
with rather disastrous results for her tunic."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "You still call him Blue?"

"You haven't named him," McCoy pointed out. Spock blinked.

"Ah." He stood closer to McCoy, scrutinizing the baby in his arms.
McCoy shifted his weight uncomfortably at the sudden proximity of the
Vulcan, but Spock ignored it.

Vulcans, much more so than Humans, put a great deal of stock in their
names. They were not merely sounds associated with a certain
individual, though many off-worlders thought that male names always
began with an "S" sound and female names always began with the
syllable "T'". This was not true, though it followed the traditional
naming system. Names had to reflect an aspect of the child, or an
aspect they were meant to attain. His own name was not something that
could translate into Federation Standard, but the idea was that he was
a 'balance,' or would attain a balance in his life. Both parents
usually deliberated the name of a child for months before the child
was born. Spock had no such luxury. He looked at the child, and while
he could think of many things he wished his son could aspire to, he
decided the most fitting name he could give the boy was one which
described a particular aspect of the child.

"I shall call you 'S'Brin,'" he told the child, which was still
sucking on McCoy's finger.

"That's a nice name," McCoy commented. "How do you spell it?"

Spock began to spell it in Vulcan characters. McCoy blinked at him.

"Sorry. . .  How do you spell it in Federation Standard? Geoff needs
to write it on the birth certificate."

"Ah. S-apostrophe-B-R-I-N."

McCoy walked out to his office, still holding the baby, and pulled
over a datapadd. He repeated the letters as he transcribed them.
"Gotcha. S'Brin, then. Bet you like that, don't you, little guy?"

The baby smiled blankly at McCoy, a bit of drool coming out of his
mouth.

"He seems pleased." Spock said distantly, his face softer than its
norm.

McCoy nodded. "Yeah. . . " He laid the baby back in the crib. "But you
didn't name him something incredibly stupid, like 'test-tube,' did
you?"

Spock furrowed his brows the tiniest bit. "Of course not, Doctor, not
unless you did. 'S'Brin' translates directly into Federation Standard
to mean 'blue.'"

McCoy half smiled and looked away, thinking to himself that it was, in
a small way, kind of sweet.

---

A.N - the numbers in parenthesis are 'footnotes’ referring to specific
episodes. The episodes referenced are listed at the bottom.

---
Chapter 12: I Feel Nothing I Did Not Feel Before
---

Geoff M'Benga was the xenobiologist in Sickbay, and while he wasn't
Spock's primary physician, he was the 'go-to' guy for any and all
alien problems the crew might be suffering from. Want to know how to
get Spock out of a healing trance? (1) Ask M'Benga. Want an
explanation as to how an alien killed a hapless ensign? (2) Ask
M'Benga.

Want to know why Spock received a telepathic broadcasting of Dr.
McCoy's emotions? You guessed it, ask M'Benga.

When McCoy was officially discharged from Sickbay, Spock pulled
M'Benga off to the side to inquire about the strange occurrence the
night before. M'Benga looked at him and frowned.

"You think he was broadcasting his feelings to you?"

"It is my hypothesis, yes."

M'Benga shook his head. "It's very unlikely, Spock. You know as well
as I do that it shouldn't be possible. Sure, you've mind-melded with
him more often than anyone else, but he's still human. Even a full
Vulcan couldn't pick up a human's emotions without touching them, not
unless they were bonded. I'll give it more thought, but Spock. . . "

"Yes, Doctor?"

"If he is upset, it's possible that you didn't glean this knowledge
just from telepathy. Can't you tell when Captain Kirk is in a bad
mood?"

"There is a distinct difference between observing the behavior
patterns to determine their emotional status and being able to sense
telepathically that someone is experiencing extreme sorrow and
regret."

"You know for sure that you were using your telepathy to sense this
then?"

"Yes."

M'Benga folded his arms, "There is one other possibility," he began,
drawing on an idea that had sprung to mind when McCoy had told him
earlier about the events this morning, "Vulcan children do form
telepathic bonds with their parents. S'Brin may have formed such a
bond with—"

"Doctor McCoy has not been confirmed as S'Brin's other biological
father," Spock interrupted.

"Nor has the possibility been denied. You may only work off a
computer's results, but little S'Brin might have already clued in on
it the moment he saw Len."

Spock went to look at the computer monitor where negative results were
popping up at a fairly slow rate. He was relieved to see that
Commander Tzu had officially been ruled out.

"Spock," M'Benga asked, "so far the only thing you've felt regarding
McCoy has been sadness, right? You haven't been getting any other
notions regarding him, have you?"

"What sort of notions do you mean?"

"Possessiveness. . .  Or passion. Any romantic feelings you didn't
feel before S'Brin came aboard."

Spock hesitated. He wasn't sure. Months ago, right up until Hernandez
had accused him of being McCoy's lover, he had never considered the
abrasive human as a potential mate, but the accusation had planted the
seeds of curiosity in his mind. Such curiosity was not common for him;
he had considered at least five of the command officers – including
Jim – as potential mates before, but within a matter of days (and in
the case of Jim, minutes - the man was simply too "straight") he had
completely dismissed the notion. But with McCoy, things had became
awkward.

His initial thoughts on the matter were that it would be impossible;
the two of them were simply too different in philosophies and
personalities, and they argued to the point of no return. Further
meditation on the matter had revealed that the doctor had heeded a
number of Spock's comments, from the philosophical by using logic in
non-scientific cases, to the practical by changing the formula of
certain painkillers to keep Spock from becoming nauseous when he used
them. Though he was not certain these changes were evidence of
anything further than close friendship, they did prove that the two of
them could move beyond their differences and work with one another.

But as the days and weeks passed, work matters took precedence in his
mind. He chose not to dally on emotional concepts and focused on more
important matters. Stars needed to be charted, Klingons needed to be
thwarted, and ambassadors had to be escorted. Emotions and the
dalliance on them were not logical. He had made plans, even before the
five year mission began, to return to Vulcan after his service was
completed and to study Kohlinar at Gol, so he knew he had to master
his control.

Until Hernandez escaped, he had all but forgotten about his
consideration of McCoy. Perhaps it was the memory of Hernandez's
accusation, perhaps it was because his irrational human half had grown
attached to the expressive doctor, or perhaps because of something
Spock could not define, but when Commander Tzu told Jim of Hernandez's
escape, Spock's thoughts went instantly back to his previous train of
thought regarding the doctor.

And when McCoy had been shot. . .

Spock clenched his fists. That had all been before he'd bonded with
S'Brin. But the question wasn't whether or not he considered McCoy a
potential mate, the question was: did he now feel anything for the
human that he had not felt before S'Brin came aboard?

Possessiveness?

/McCoy had looked absently past them and asked if they were of the
body. His mind had been taken, and Landru had taken it. When the
Lawgivers came to address them Spock had struck one of them, rather
than simply nerve-pinching him. Neither he nor Jim understood Spock's
reaction. . . (3)/

Passion?

/A powerful emotion indeed. . .  His second eyelids had opened and the
first thing he beheld was McCoy's face. Neither of them said anything,
but Spock's expression must have changed because McCoy laughed and
slapped Spock on the shoulder before leaving for the bridge. Spock
touched his shoulder and soon was back on his feet and headed toward
his station. (4)/

"No, Doctor. I feel nothing for McCoy that I did not feel before. . .
" Spock decided as he walked out of M'Benga's office and headed out of
Sickbay.

---

1 A Private Little War

2 That Which Survives

3 The Return of the Archons

4 Operation, Annihilate!

---
Chapter 13: His Mind Will Grasp Yours
---

Spock slipped into his quarters and took a deep breath. He rarely had
a chance to simply rest any more; he spent most of his time working or
with S'Brin and, when he wasn't doing that, he was sleeping. It
surprised him somewhat that an infant could elicit such exhaustion
from a fully-grown man.

Spock did not find the work required to keep S'Brin healthy and calm
exhausting so much as the work required to keep the child's emotions
from overwhelming him. True, the child only felt simple emotions, but
he felt them strongly and completely. Spock needed to meditate. He
knelt on the floor and lit the firepot.

He chanted, clearing his mind. As before, it was difficult to find his
center, but now he was able to recognize his son's mind. He blocked it
away and breathed.


/His head ached, but then again, so did the rest of him. He had hoped
this wouldn't happen to him, but hope was only an emotion and could
hardly be expected to save someone from the drives of biology. He got
off the turbolift.

"Oh, Spock, good you're here. Just lie down on the biobed and I'll. .
. "

"Doctor, my orders were to report to Sickbay. I have now done so, so
if you will excuse me,"

"I have my orders too, damnit, and they are to give you a thorough
physical so just-" His words were cut off as Spock grasped him by the
throat./


"It did not happen like that," Spock growled, trying to dissipate the
imagery.


/He pressed his mouth to McCoy's hungrily. The human grasped his
forearm and wrist. Spock loosened his grip on the man's throat, but
would not let him pull away. He briefly allowed him to catch a breath.

McCoy looked enraged. "Have you gone insane?!"

"In a fashion," Spock stated, this time pushing the human onto the
biobed. McCoy flailed, managing to kick Spock in the gut. Such a blow
would not have injured the Vulcan normally, but in this state he was
more vulnerable.

"Get off me, damn it! Do you think it's that easy?"

This whole experience was absurd, but that comment especially. "I
need. . . "

"And I want. I'm not a Vulcan, Spock." McCoy sat up, his blue eyes
soft. He slid off the biobed and put his hand on Spock's face. "You
don't have to take me. I'm yours."

This was a kiss- quite different from what he had done before to the
man. His fever seemed to fade, replaced with a more gentle heat, which
caused Spock to sigh against McCoy's lips./


"I will not let this desire rule me. . .  I am a Vulcan. Emotion is a
thing of the mind; the mind can be controlled."

His mind was not cleared. . .  Spock stood and walked into his
bathroom.

"Perhaps Doctor M'Benga was correct. . .  If S'Brin has bonded with
McCoy that would explain why I am feeling his sorrow. . . "

He knew that did not explain his other feelings regarding the doctor.

"He is not my mate."

But. . .  He thought to himself, He is the father of my son. That
would not be if he were not my mate.

"No. . .  That is not logical. I have no proof that McCoy is S'Brin's
other parent, and even if I did, the boy was created in a test tube,
not because of any sexual act between Leonard . . .  Doctor McCoy and
myself," he corrected himself.

As the words left his mouth, the image of McCoy kissing him came to
mind, and Spock had to slam his fist on the bathroom counter to pull
his mind away from the thought.

---

McCoy groaned when the door-chime rang. He hadn't been able to sleep
in his own bed for almost a week, and pulling his self away from it
was almost a Herculean labor.

"What?" he spat at the door as it slid open. Nurse Chapel was smiling
at him.

"Only three more prospects for the computer to weed through."

McCoy's stomach leapt up into his throat. "Was that cause for you to
wake me up?"

"Maybe not in itself, but -"

"But nothing, Chris! I haven't been able to sleep in my own bed for
four nights, plus I'm still taking those painkillers."

"You're still on the list, Len. S'Brin could be your son."

McCoy stopped mid-rant. "Then let's go, shall we?"

Christine smiled at him.

McCoy couldn't decide if he was excited or depressed about walking
down to Sickbay. M'Benga was walking beside two younger men, Ensign
Roanoke and Lieutenant Finney. Both of them looked to be in good
condition, and both had blue eyes. McCoy swallowed the lump in his
throat.

"Nurse Regan went to get Mr. Spock, gentlemen. If you two would please
sit in Doctor McCoy's office, we will join you shortly," M'Benga told
the two men. McCoy bounced on his heels. Roanoke and Finney exchanged
a nervous glance, but followed Chapel into Sickbay.

"Neither of them wants the boy," M'Benga said, shaking his head.

"Well, neither does Spock, really," McCoy pointed out.

"True, which is one reason I have to ask you this. Len, if it turns
out S'Brin is your son, do you have the means and the desire to care
for him? I know you're retiring soon, but not for a few more months.
We can't have a baby on the ship for that long."

McCoy's heart was pounding. He had never considered seriously that
S'Brin would be his son. It was a faint hope that he hadn't let
himself dwell on.

"I'll have to make a call or two. I want to keep him. If I can't make
ad hoc arrangements, I'll resign. Geoff - " McCoy put a hand on
M'Benga's shoulder, " - y'all aren't just trying to make me feel
better with this, are you?"

"What, raise your hopes only to dash them cruelly? C'mon, Len. Have
some faith in us." Geoff smiled gently. "Oh, by the way, remind me to
contact Ambassador Sarek and Lady Amanda later."

"I thought Spock doesn't want S'Brin."

"He doesn't, but as Spock's son he is still a member of their clan.
Vulcans are big on lineage."

"Oh," McCoy muttered noncommittally.

"Are you two coming?" Christine asked, poking her head out from the
Sickbay doors.

"Still waiting on - Oh, here he is," M'Benga said waving Spock and
Nurse Regan over. "Please come on in, gentlemen – and lady," he
amended with a smile to the nurse.

McCoy tried to meet Spock's eyes to get a feel for what he was
thinking, but the Vulcan seemed distracted. They all walked into
Sickbay. Roanoke and Finney looked up at them. Finney swallowed a lump
in his throat.

"Nurse Chapel told us we'd have to form a bond with the baby. How do
we do that?"

Spock blinked and looked at the lieutenant. "You will simply have to
let S'Brin do it. If there is difficulty, I will assist, but his mind
will likely grasp to yours as readily as he will grasp your finger
with his hand."

Finney and Roanoke exchanged a glance. "Will we. . .  I don't know, be
like, married to you if we do this? I've heard Vulcans form bonds with
their partners. . . " Roanoke began. "And you see, I'm already
married,"

There was a sudden tension in the room. For a moment, everyone thought
they had offended Spock with that statement. S'Brin began to wail.

"I will tend to him," Spock said and left the office, leaving only an
awkward silence in his wake. M'Benga cleared his throat.

"It is not like that," he stated. "The bond will only exist between
you and S'Brin. I suppose you would be aware of Spock on some
peripheral level, but it will not be direct."

Finney and Roanoke looked relieved.

The computer chirped. "Match found."

McCoy felt as though the room was suddenly charged with electricity.
"Display match, computer."

---
Chapter 14: Why You Go See For Yourself
---

Spock held S'Brin close to him, whispering quietly to the boy in
Vulcan. He knew the child was feeling his tension regarding the bond.
He knew the three men in the room to be good men who would bond with
S'Brin no matter what effect it had on their relationship with Spock,
but he still wished it were not a factor. All of this emotional chaos
would make him one of the most unlikely candidates for Kohlinar. If he
could not find peace there, where else could it lie?

S'Brin tried to suck on his father's uniform.

"No. My uniform is not a pacifier or a bottle. It does not belong in
your mouth." He prodded the boy's cheek. The baby sucked on Spock's
finger instead. Spock did not sigh.

He heard the computer chirp. "Match found."

S'Brin blinked up at Spock, who pulled his finger from the boy's mouth
and bounced the infant in his arms.

"Display match, computer," he heard McCoy say.

There was a long silence, then the sound of a chair scraping against
the floor and a dull thud.

"Doctor!" Finney cried out, "Are you okay?"

"Just. . .  Just vertigo. . . "

"Here Len, let me help you up," M'Benga cautioned.

"No, it's okay. I'm all right." The good doctor didn't sound as
irritated as he normally would have from missing a chair. Spock looked
over at the doorway. For a moment nothing happened.

McCoy came up to the door. He looked like he was trying to keep a
straight face. His eyes shone, and he looked more alive than he had in
nearly a week. His mouth quirked, and he began to laugh. He quickly
strode over to Spock and gently lifted S'Brin from his arms.

"Doctor?"

"Oh, you delightful baby. . .  Oh, you amazing boy!" McCoy cooed at
S'Brin, apparently oblivious to Spock's presence. The baby giggled and
McCoy kissed the infant's face repeatedly. Spock put his hand on the
human's shoulder.

"You?" Spock asked. McCoy looked up at him, grinning as though he
would never be sad again. He shrugged one shoulder to the doorway.

"Why don't you go see for yourself?"

Spock didn't think he needed to, but he nevertheless left the nursery
and went into McCoy's office. Finney and Roanoke looked relieved, and
M'Benga looked pleased. Only Nurse Chapel seemed pensive, but she was
smiling politely. The computer monitor was showing a strain of DNA
labeled, "S'Brin," and matching portions of it to another strand.

A strand labeled, "McCoy, Dr. Leonard H." Spock's heart pounded and
his spirits rose, but he calmly placed his hands behind his back,
raised an eyebrow and said, "Ah."

The humans laughed. It was nice to break the tension, nice to finally
have the answer to the long unanswered question. Spock wanted to
control his heart and dispel the joy pulsing through him, but
something – whether his human half, or the bond with his son –
prevented him from doing so.

He walked back into the nursery, where McCoy was still babbling
nonsensical compliments to S'Brin.

"Congratulations, Doctor," Spock stated.

McCoy looked over at Spock and grinned again. "I'm a daddy."

That was, Spock thought, one of the most redundant statements he had
ever heard.

"Even if S'Brin were not your son, that would be true. You already
have a daughter."

McCoy's smile didn't falter. "Come here and look at my baby, Spock. At
- " he hesitated and laughed, "our baby. Boy, I never thought those
words would ever come out of my mouth."

Spock stood beside McCoy. "Nor did I." He looked at S'Brin, who was
cooing with pleasure and contentment. He had such blue eyes and a warm
smile. McCoy offered S'Brin a finger to hold onto and gazed lovingly
at the boy.

"You know, I wanted him to be mine the moment I saw him. . .  And he
is, Spock. He's my little boy."

Spock looked at McCoy. He wondered briefly how anyone could have
supposed S'Brin would be any other person's son. "I know."

McCoy's grin faded. "I need to call Joanna."

"Why?"

McCoy smiled softly. "Well, for one thing, to tell her she has a baby
brother. For another, I need to ask her. . .  I mean, if she can't
watch him until the end of the mission, I'll have to resign. I
couldn't bear to put him in foster care." He swallowed, and then
looked at Spock. "I'll need all the help I can get. Spock," he stopped
mid sentence. His eyes were pleading.

Spock looked away. All the joy he had been feeling upon knowing who
S'Brin's father was was quickly being overwhelmed by guilt. "I am sure
you will be an excellent father to our son."

McCoy's shoulders slumped somewhat. He walked over and put S'Brin in
his crib. "Spock," he whispered. Spock did not look at him. He
couldn't. There were too many conflicting emotions. McCoy put a hand
on Spock's cheek and angled the Vulcan's face toward him. "You could
be an excellent father, too, Spock."

Spock doubted it. In all likelihood he would end up attempting to
pressure S'Brin the same way he had been pressured by Sarek. He would
be too cold. McCoy always said he could out-Vulcan the Vulcans. He did
not want that for his son.

"I cannot sacrifice my career. . . "

"You may not have to."

"And when this mission is over I am going to Gol."

McCoy dropped his hand and glared. "Why? What in God's name could be
more important at Gol than taking care of your son?"

Spock did not answer. He knew his response would only upset McCoy
more. He wanted to stay with his son and his friend. He couldn't stay,
because being around them made him burn and made him feel and none of
that was logical.

McCoy must have seen something in Spock's eyes, because he stopped
glaring. Spock's gaze did not falter.

"You really don't know what to do with a warm, decent feeling, do
you?"

The last time McCoy had said that, Spock had almost believed he could
refute him. He did, after all, understand friendship. And McCoy had
understood that and let the subject drop. But now, staring at the man
who was his son's father and yet was not his mate, all understanding
seemed to leave him. It was not right. It was not logical.

He leaned in and touched his mouth to McCoy's. He had never kissed
someone before without being under the influence of things he could
not control. A part of him told him this was no different. His
instincts were going haywire, as humans would say, and he was no
longer certain how to regard his sometimes friend.

Spock pulled back. The humans on the ship would probably have defined
the kiss as chaste or childish. A "peck on the lips", as it were.
McCoy briefly put a hand to his mouth and looked thoughtful.

"I have to leave," the Vulcan whispered. McCoy closed his eyes and
shivered. Spock did not notice a temperature change. "I have to go
because I cannot find control. I am not myself."

McCoy's fists clenched and he seemed to be swallowing down all the
hurt he was feeling. "I want you to stay."

Spock gently put a finger under McCoy's chin and kissed him again.
This time McCoy kissed him back. Spock was trying to apologize. McCoy
was trying to persuade.

In the end, neither was successful.

---
Chapter 15: They Left
---

They had finally reached Starbase 12. There was really nothing else to
say about it, from McCoy's point of view. After what happened in
Sickbay, all he wanted to focus on was taking care of his son.

His son. . .  God, that felt so good to think.

He'd called Joanna. She'd had mixed feelings about the situation. She
was thrilled to have a sibling, but was rather surprised to find out
that she would have to take care of the boy until he could retire.

"A little brother! That's wonderful! Who's his momma? I didn't know
you were seeing anyone! You cad, you." She had laughed.

"I'm not seeing anyone, sweetheart. Someone genetically engineered the
boy from my DNA."

"Oh my God. . . Then, wait, who's the other parent?"

"My coworker, Spock. Look, sweetheart, I need to ask you a favor."

"Sure."

"Could you. . .  I don't know, baby-sit him for a while? I retire in a
few months, but I can't keep S'Brin on the ship for that long. It's
too dangerous."

"Baby-sit an infant for three months? Dad, you know better than me
that watching children is completely different from raising them, and
the first three months of an infant's life are. . ."

"I know, but there's no alternative. The only other thing I can do is
resign."

"Not three months before you retire! That would be ridiculous. But
what about Simon?"

"Your fiancé?"

"Yes. I. . .  I couldn't put my relationship with him on hold."

"Oh, baby, I'm not asking you to. If you can't take care of S'Brin. .
. "

"No! Daddy, don't. I guess - " She laughed harshly. "I guess if Simon
won't help me baby-sit my own brother, he's probably not going to be a
good father for my kids."

"What about your job? Will Emory let you take enough time off?"

"Family leave? Definitely. I'll call Simon and Dr. Richards right
away."

"Thanks so much, sweetheart. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

She waved her hand dismissively, "You don't have to. I owe you
everything. You always put me before everything else I think I can
take a page outta your book and put my baby brother before me. Where
and when can I pick him up?"

"We're stopping at Starbase 12 tomorrow, but if you need, I can stay
for a few days so you can get over,"

"Starbase 12? That's great! That's right along the route the Blue Moon
is taking to Boralis 6."

"The Blue Moon?"

"Simon's freight ship. He's the pilot. I'm sure I can get passage.
I've got to go call Simon. The ship embarks in three hours. I'll see
you tomorrow!"

"Wait, what if you can't get aboard?"

"Pfft, I'll get aboard. Simon can't tell me no. He's such a big
softie."

She was so confident and sure of herself, just like he could be. He
knew she'd come through for him. He hoped he could meet Simon.

His daughter's love life was easier to think about than his own
convoluted one. He tried not to dwell on the kiss he and Spock had
shared in Sickbay. He concentrated on his son, his duty, his daughter,
and his job. . .  Anything but those warm lips against his.

He had brought S'Brin to the transporter room. Spock had come as well,
to thank Joanna for her help. Well, that's what Spock had said he'd
come for, though McCoy suspected that he had come to see S'Brin one
last time. The Blue Moon had docked an hour after the Enterprise had.
McCoy rocked S'Brin in his arms tenderly. In three months, the little
one would be so much bigger. He felt tightness in his throat.

Spock put a hand on McCoy's shoulder, a gesture that would have seemed
uncommon two weeks ago. The Vulcan looked very pensive.

"Doctor. . .  I know I have no right to ask you this," Spock began.
McCoy tightened his hold on S'Brin as he felt his spine stiffen. "But
I must. Will you. . .  Will you please speak well of my people to our
son? Will you allow S'Brin to feel as much pride for being part Vulcan
as for being part human?"


/Because every day you stay alive is another chance for that human
half of yours to peek out. . .  (1)/


McCoy looked at Spock with an almost guilty expression. He knew how
much ridicule and pressure Spock had had to endure for being half
human. "I don't want to make him choose which heritage he follows." He
didn't want S'Brin to feel as lost as Spock did. He couldn't do that
to his son.

"I know you do not."

"But I will," McCoy paused, licking his lips. "I will speak well of
you. And your people."

Spock's grip tightened, and then he let his hand drop.

Scotty looked at them from behind the transporter controls.
"Energizing," he said quietly. Spock nodded at him.

Within a moment a thin, redheaded woman with very blue eyes stood
before them. McCoy smiled and Spock raised an eyebrow. The young woman
ran over and put her arms around McCoy's shoulders for a second, then
stepped back.

"Hey, Daddy!" She looked down at the baby in McCoy's arms and cooed.
"Oh, he's precious."

"Hey, sweetheart," McCoy said with a smile. "Spock, this is my
daughter, Joanna. Joanna, my friend Spock. You already know Scotty."

"Aye," the Scotsman replied with a grin. Joanna smiled, and then bowed
her head politely at Spock. "Nice to meet you, sir."

Spock nodded at her.

Joanna looked back at S'Brin. "May I hold him?"

"Oh, sure!" McCoy laughed and handed the resting infant to his sister.
The baby slowly lifted his lids and gurgled sleepily. Joanna smiled,
and the baby cooed.

"He's absolutely precious." She looked at Spock. "You must be very
pleased."

McCoy crossed his arms and looked away. "Spock is a Vulcan, Joanna,"
he stated. "I'm sure he is, uh - " He tried to think of a word that
didn't connote an emotion. Nothing was forthcoming though.

"My son is a great pleasure to me, Miss McCoy," Spock interjected,
looking at his friend very gently. "A gift I cannot accept and do not
deserve."

McCoy pointedly did not look at Spock. Joanna, on the other hand,
fixed her eyes – her father's eyes – on the Vulcan. They were piercing
and expressive, conveying everything her father refused to let the
Vulcan see in his own eyes. Accusation, defensiveness, hurt, and pride
gleamed in those blue eyes. The Vulcan did not look away, but he did
blink.

Joanna looked back down at her brother. "Oh, Daddy! He's got the McCoy
eyes."

The doctor beamed.

Spock put his hands behind his back, standing at ease. "I would invite
you to stay, but I am told the Blue Moon must depart soon."

"You're right. Say, why didn't Simon come aboard?"

"He had to stay at the helm. The Blue Moon has to leave in fifteen
minutes." She bounced S'Brin in her arms and looked at her father.
"Oh, Daddy, I wish I could stay longer."

McCoy put his arms around her and kissed her cheek. "I'll see y'all
real soon. Go on now."

"We'll see you in a few months. Say 'bye-bye' S'Brin," she cooed at
her brother. The baby reached up and grabbed a lock of her long, red
hair.

"Bye, sweetheart. Bye-bye, little Blue."

"Good bye, my son," Spock said softly, surprising McCoy.

Joanna stepped up onto the transporter pad. "Energize, Scotty." Scotty
worked the controls and McCoy's children disappeared from sight. The
doctor coughed once and bowed his head.

Spock looked at McCoy. "She seems a good woman."

"Yeah," McCoy replied, his voice tight. Spock stared at him for a
moment, and almost without realizing it, put his arm around the
human's shoulders.

"And you shall see them soon, Doctor."

"You don't need to try and comfort me, Spock," the human whispered,
nudging the Vulcan playfully with his elbow. Spock said nothing.

"D'ya want me to tell Commander Tzu that he can bring the Hernandezes
in?" Scotty asked.

Spock dropped his arm and McCoy nodded curtly.

Tzu and one of the Enterprise's security officers led the Hernandezes
into the chamber. Chaz was holding Ivan's hand. Tzu had restrained
Jeraldo's hands with cuffs.

"Permission to disembark, Mr. Spock?" Tzu asked.

Spock nodded. "Granted."

Tzu tried to lead Jeraldo to the transporter pad, but the wild-eyed
scientist resisted, wrenching his body around to face Spock and McCoy.

"You made it, Papi," the man said, aghast.

"I did, Jeraldo." McCoy stated, crossing his arms.

"And where is the little one?"

"He's going home."

"Home? Where?" Hernandez tried to pull away from Tzu, but the
commander held him fast.

"With his sister, my daughter."

Jeraldo's eyes widened with disbelief. "You're keeping the baby? You?"
He grinned. "I told you, senor, I was just trying to help people like
you," he said, looking at Spock.

Spock looked down.

"I told you, Jeraldo," Chaz whispered. "You can't just play god and
make everything all better."

Jeraldo's shoulders slumped. "Then the experiment was not a complete
success."

McCoy's eyes burned with sudden rage. "An experiment! You bastard! Is
that what you call it? You shot me and toyed with the heads of every
man on this ship! You brought an innocent child into this world
without even considering the consequences to do what? To prove a
point?" McCoy lunged at the former lieutenant, but Spock caught him by
the shoulder.

"Doctor, calm yourself," The Vulcan ordered. McCoy rounded on him,
glaring.

"How can you just stand there? I've seen what this ordeal has done to
you!"

Spock met McCoy's eyes. "Yes. You have. And you have held our son. Has
that been so bad that you would attack a defenseless man and end up in
a penal colony for fifteen to twenty years, never seeing your son
again?"

McCoy swallowed a lump in his throat.

The security officer led the other Hernandez' to the transporter pad
and then stepped down.

"Energize, Mr. Scott," Tzu said. Within moments, they were all gone.

"I'm needed in engineering, lads," Scotty said, leaving. McCoy still
hadn't taken his eyes off Spock.

"We are also required on duty," the Vulcan stated.

"Spock, I. . . " McCoy started, and then shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Because you were right. It wasn't bad. . .  It was wonderful." He
sighed. "And I wouldn't have traded it for anything."

Spock nodded. McCoy then stepped in and gently kissed the Vulcan.
Spock put his hands on the doctor's shoulders and then, after a brief
second, pushed him away. They both knew it wasn't something they
should indulge in. They had to remember their duty for now, and later
they would both be leaving – one to Earth, the other to Vulcan. But,
for a brief time, they had been at home there in Sickbay with their
son and each other.

"I am required on the bridge, Doctor."

McCoy nodded, and they both left.

---

(1) Bread and Circuses

---

A N: The epilogue takes place about two years after Chapter 15. Yes,
there is a sequel on the way. I reiterate, after you read this, go
watch the Motion Picture. It makes the ending a lot happier.

---
Epilogue
---

"What color is this, Brin-Brin?" Joanna McCoy asked, waving a ribbon
in front of her two-year-old brother's bright, happy face. The toddler
grasped for it eagerly with pudgy hands and a giggle.

"Wed! Wibbon wed!"

"That's right!" Joanna cheered. "Now, what are Jo-Jo and Simon going
to do this summer?"

"Wed!" S'Brin squealed, putting his hands in front of his mouth.

Joanna fought back a laugh and reached over and started tickling the
little one, who cried out with laughter and surprise.

"What are you two doing in here?" McCoy asked as he walked into the
dining room from the living room. He had dust smudged into his sweater
from where he had pulled boxes of Christmas decorations from out of
the top of Joanna's closet.

"Daddy! Hee-hee, Jo-Jo's ticklin' me!" S'Brin gasped as he tried to
squirm away from his sister's grasp.

McCoy grinned, but hid it as he scratched his beard. "Herm, well,
Joanna. . . " he said sternly.

"Yes, Daddy?" The woman replied innocently.

""Give the kid a break," McCoy laughed, no longer able to maintain his
serious façade.

"Aww," Joanna sighed with a fake pout. She pulled her fingers away
from her brother's tummy and picked up a padd to show McCoy. "Alright,
I've finished all of my invitations."

McCoy took the padd and scanned it quickly. "Can I see the stack?"

"No," Joanna stated, swatting McCoy's knee with her hand. "You'll
probably take Momma's invitation out."

"I'd do no such thing!" McCoy laughed with surprise.

Joanna grinned gently. "It'd do you no good anyway, 'cause I've
already asked her personally to attend and to help me pick out my
dress."

"Joanna," McCoy said seriously, sitting next to his daughter and
putting a hand on her knee, "Whatever problems your mother and I had,
she's still your momma. She looked lovely in her wedding dress, and I
just know you'll look lovely in yours."

Joanna's eyes began to well up and she hugged her father tightly. Out
of the corner of her eye, she saw the ribbon she'd been playing with
slip away from the table.

"Daddy!" S'Brin laughed waving the ribbon about like a victory banner,
"Look it! I got it!"

"You little thief!" Joanna laughed, wiping her eyes as she turned to
look at her brother. "Now give it back. I need to put it on my last
invitation."

"No!" The boy snapped, pulling the ribbon tightly to his chest. "Wanna
give it to Ny."

"Miss Nyota isn't coming over today, kiddo," McCoy explained, "She's
at the Starfleet briefing for the Enterprise refit."

"Can we go see?" S'Brin pleaded, his blue eyes wide with wonder.
"Scotty say I his assis'int."

"Not today, son. Don't you want to come help me decorate for
Christmas?"

"No! Wanna go see Entapwise!"

"I tell you what, Brin-Brin," Joanna said soothingly, stroking
S'Brin's dark hair, "You help Daddy decorate for Christmas, and
tomorrow you and Daddy can go visit your grandma and grandfather on
Vulcan, okay?"

"Do what, now?" McCoy asked with surprise. His daughter smiled and
tossed her now short red hair. She had cut it to keep her brother's
grabby hands from yanking on it.

"Miss Amanda gave me a call the other day. She and Sarek would like
you to bring S'Brin up for his birthday."

McCoy leaned back in his chair and let out a long low whistle, his
gaze darkening. He had been both dying to go to Vulcan and dreading
ever seeing that desert world again since Spock left. When he tried to
console himself one evening by researching Kohlinar, thinking that he
would see that it really was the answer Spock was looking for, he only
ended up depressing himself further. Kohlinar wasn't just passions
mastery, but the complete eradication of emotions and, in time, the
self.

"You could have told me sooner."

Joanna frowned. "I know, but we've been so busy. You should go. It'll
help you to get your mind off the wedding arrangements for a while."

"Wanna see gwandma and gwandfafa!" S'Brin chirped, clapping his tiny
hands. Joanna plucked the ribbon out of his lap and McCoy lifted
S'Brin out of the high chair before the boy could notice.

"Okay, we'll go see your grandparents."

S'Brin cheered and bounced in McCoy's arms.

McCoy grinned. "Let's go put up the Christmas tree, okay, Blue?"

"'Kay." S'Brin said, hugging his father's neck and nuzzling his beard.
He giggled, "Your whiskers tickle!"

Joanna watched them head out to the living room. She knew how much her
father needed a rest. The wedding arrangements were tough enough, but
her mother wasn't making things any easier and neither were Simon's
parents. Normally, her father would go out to his garden, but that was
over at his new house, which was under renovation. He and S'Brin were
staying with her and Simon in her apartment until the house was done.
It was supposed to be done before Christmas. It was good for her dad,
really, to have so much to occupy his mind, but once the wedding was
over and the house finished, she knew his loneliness would set in. It
hurt her to know that she would be happy with the man she loved while
her father had no one but his two-year-old son.

He had never told her outright, but she knew how badly he missed
Spock. She could hear it when he told S'Brin of the Enterprise's grand
adventures. She could see it when she walked in on him sipping a
brandy on the porch and looking up toward the stars. She could see it
when he stroked S'Brin's ear while the baby slept. She didn't know if
they had been lovers, but she did know her father loved Spock.

She shook her head sadly and looked at the ribbon in her hand. Slowly,
a plan started to form in her mind. God only knew if it would work,
but it couldn't hurt to try. A slow grin spread across Joanna's face
as she reached for one of her blank invitations.


Dear Mr. Spock,

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Miss Joanna Laurette McCoy
to Mister Simon G. R. Simmons on the Twenty-third day of June, 2270 at
5:00pm.


As she tied the red ribbon around the invitation, she made a silent
prayer to God, the stars, the Great Bird of the Galaxy, anyone, that
something, somewhere, would make her plan work.

And thousands of light years away, a probe set a course to Earth,
searching for its creator.

---

The End