Star Trek: The Original Series: The More Things Change by Scott Pearson Page B

Chapel, the place she had in his life, his lack of context for understanding the depth of those feelings, complicated by their past, her love for him and how it had changed and matured.
    Chapel tried to pull away, embarrassed that she had felt his most private thoughts, but she seemed too weak to move her arms. Another part of her worried about the status of the shuttlecraft. How much of his repairs had Spock completed? Were they on course? She hadn’t even noticed if they were still at warp, and now she sat with her back toward the bow, unable to see out the port. Were they simply drifting, helpless and exposed, in open space? She had to get up. Had to check on Dax and the Copernicus . Chapel grabbed the hypospray to give herself a stimulant but felt it slip from her fingers and clatter to the deck as her eyes closed.

Chapter 6
    Chapel forced her eyes to open. Spock’s face was just inches from her own; she still had him cradled across her lap, and she had slumped forward as she lost consciousness, overwhelmed by the mental links she had experienced. She blinked her eyes to help them focus and looked at Spock. His color had returned to normal, and his breathing was deep and regular. His injured lip was slightly swollen, but the bleeding had slowed. Chapel sat up straight and tried to stretch her stiff back as much as she could without waking him. She turned his left arm slightly to get a peek at the laceration. It was shallow, with just a trickle of fresh blood. That wound required care soon, but she needed to give some thought to the shuttle. She glanced around, trying to get a sense of their status. There were no alarms going off, either from the cockpit or from the diagnostic unit aft, and the normal lighting had come back on. The thrumming she felt through the deck seemed like the usual warp speed sensation. Before performing repairs, Spock obviously would have programmed their course into the computer, along with several emergency subroutines, so perhaps they’d come through this just fine. At least what could be called “fine” under their current circumstances.
    Before Chapel could dwell upon those circumstances, she felt Spock stirring. She looked down in time to see his eyes snap open. He glanced around in confusion and raised an eyebrow. “Are we on the deck?” She nodded, smiling at him. He looked back up at her. “Are you holding me in your lap?”
    “Yes, I am.”
    His eyebrow lowered and he said, “Interesting.” He shifted a little, but he didn’t try to get up. “I remember being in the crawlspace and discovering some unsealed microbreaches in the outer hull. I had to keep the area clear of sealant to facilitate making the necessary repairs. My intention was to finish the work quickly, before the thinning air would affect my Vulcan physiology, which is adapted to lower oxygen levels. When I realized I had overestimated my tolerance, I called for your assistance, but clearly you did not hear me. Nevertheless, I assumed you would soon notice the developing situation on your monitor. I am curious . . . why did you respond so slowly?”
    Somehow he asked that without any sense of incrimination, with only a tone of scholarly interest. Chapel smiled sadly while she formulated a reply. She couldn’t tell him she’d been facilitating a link between Audrid and her symbiont and had lost all sense of time or her surroundings. She didn’t know if she should admit she had heard him call her name in her mind, and she wanted to avoid explaining how her heightened neural state had allowed her to unintentionally eavesdrop on his thoughts.
    “I’m sorry, I was at a critical point in my treatment of Commissioner Dax. I was so focused I just didn’t realize the danger you were in. When I did . . . it was quite a scare. For a split second I thought I might lose you.”
    “It appears you were successful in averting that outcome.”
    Chapel laughed. As a smile so wide it almost hurt spread across her face,