“You wanted to see me, Doc?” Sulu asked with a cheerfulness that rang painfully false in McCoy’s ears.
McCoy gestured for the young man to sit down, and asked, “Sleeping any better?”
Sulu’s smile faded under McCoy’s steady gaze, and he replied honestly, “No.”
McCoy considered very carefully before he offered gently, “I could authorize a partial memory erasure for you, you know.”
The anger flared in Sulu’s eyes, but his answer was only a repeated, firm, “No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Sulu studied the desk top, avoiding the sharp blue eyes. “I thought you told me the tests showed I was readjusting.”
McCoy nodded.
Sulu waited for him to say more, but when the Doctor remained silent, he continued, almost in a rush, “It isn’t the memories. The few people here who really know what happened have been very supportive. They’ve tried to help.” He grimaced wryly. “At least, most of them have. And the bad jokes are to be expected. It’s human nature. They feel uncomfortable -- they don’t know what to say. It's easier to laugh it off. I laugh with them. What else am I supposed to do? I can’t...” He broke off and shut his eyes for a moment, struggling with some painful emotion, then opened them and looked steadily at McCoy. “Would you think I was crazy if I told you that I was almost happier on Caria than I am here?”
“Not crazy,” McCoy replied slowly. “But I have to wonder what it was there that made you happy. Do you know?” Sulu didn’t answer. “Are you lonely?” McCoy asked softly.
“No, of course I’m.... yes, maybe…. I don’t know,” Sulu faltered. “It’s just that no one here understands, not really. I guess it’s ridiculous to expect them to.”
“No one? What about Spock?”
Sulu’s expression grew defensive. “He doesn’t remember that much.”
“Have you asked him?” McCoy probed.
“Of course not!”
“Why not?”
“Because he won’t-- !” Sulu blurted out angrily, then clenched his teeth. “Shit! Why would I want him to remember? Listen, Doc, is this really any of your business? If I tested out--”
“The welfare of everyone on this ship is my business,” McCoy cut in sternly. “And I don’t base all my conclusions on tests.” He forced himself to relax and ignored the young man’s resentful attitude. “Just what was your relationship with Spock on Caria.”
“That’s in my report, Doctor,” Sulu said sullenly.
“No, it isn’t. Not what I want to hear.”
Sulu’s voice became sarcastically astonished. “Why, Doc, I didn’t know you were a voyeur.”
“Cut the impertinence, Sulu,” McCoy ordered. “What happened between you?”
“None of your damn--”
“Lieutenant,” McCoy interrupted, “you’ll answer the question.”
Sulu looked rebellious, his fists tightly clenched, but he answered. “After we were captured, we watched a dozen men rape Kim Park until she died. Spock went berserk. He was too valuable to kill, but they beat him senseless and gave him the molian. After that, I took care of him.” He glanced up furiously. “What else could I have done? He was lucid sometimes, but I was never really sure how much he understood, how much he was himself..” Sulu’s words came faster, as if he were talking to himself and had forgotten McCoy’s presence.
“You don’t know what the drug did to him -- what those bastards did to him. I had to protect him some way, any way. That’s the only thing that kept me going, taking care of him. Darrell Kent went crazy one night. He knew what would happen if he tried to escape, knew he didn’t have a chance. But I think it was what he wanted. He didn’t think we’d ever be found, so he got out the only way there was. After that, surviving seemed the only thing that mattered.” There was a pause, and Sulu’s voice got quieter. “Maybe I’m a better officer, or maybe I’m just more of a coward. I couldn’t do what Darrell did. It would’ve have left Spock alone, and I couldn’t do that.” Again his dark eyes flashed up, this time full of anguished entreaty. “He wasn’t functional, he needed me! I did what I had to, but I tried to take care of him! He didn’t seem to mind the things I did for him, the things I said....” His voice choked off. “I kept telling him that you would find us, that everything would be all right.” Sulu’s eyes glistened but no tears escaped. “I was lying through my teeth.... and it’s still a lie. It’s never gonna be all right.”
“Are you in love with Spock?” McCoy asked abruptly.
Sulu jumped, as if startled, then flushed furiously. He glared at McCoy, starting to speak a few times, then he took a deep breath and dropped his gaze. “Maybe on Caria I thought I was,” he replied cautiously.
“And now?”
Dark eyes turned on McCoy soberly. “The situation is very different here, Dr. McCoy.”
“But your feelings aren’t. Which is why you almost wish you were back on Caria, in spite of everything else.”
Sulu had recovered himself. He shrugged and said blandly, “Whatever you say, Doc.”
You’re as cooperative as that blasted Vulcan, McCoy thought in exasperation. He looked sternly at Sulu. “No more sleeping pills. They won’t help you deal with this.”
“But....”
“What I want you to do, Lieutenant, is talk to Spock. Or don’t you think you two have something to settle?”
“He doesn’t remember,” Sulu said. “Whatever I felt -- he won’t remember. What’s there to settle? What good will it do?”
“Maybe he remembers more than you think he does.”
“And if that’s true, no wonder he doesn’t want to talk to me,” Sulu muttered. McCoy chose not to comment.
“That’s what you’ve got to settle, Sulu,” he said instead.
The young man sighed. “Whatever you say, Doc,” he repeated tonelessly.
McCoy ignored the evasion. “I mean it, Lieutenant. Consider it an order.” He looked at the helmsman again and shook his head. “Dismissed.”
After Sulu left, McCoy sat back at his desk, tired and worried. He did not like the emotional climate that was swirling around Spock. Not that there was much he could personally do about it. He had probably interfered too much already. He may have very well just lit the fuse on a very explosive emotional time bomb.
Spock accepted the Captain’s offer of a game of chess without hesitation. He welcomed the diversion of both the game and Jim’s company. His friendship with James Kirk seemed to be the only thing of any stability left in his life. He kept telling himself he needed time, but as the days passed, he grew only more confused. Caria and the drug had stripped him of every defense against emotion. And none of the techniques of either Vulcan or Human control were succeeding in putting his feelings in order, let alone controlling them. He knew he was losing all objectivity about his own internal psyche. He had never before allowed the uncertainty inherent in any hybrid to dominate his awareness. So it was that he was very glad of Kirk’s quiet, supportive friendship, and was tempted to tell him so. Without Jim’s undemanding understanding, he would have found this period of his life unbearable.
But he played chess in silence for the most part. Although he would have preferred the privacy of his or the Captain’s quarters, it was he who had suggested they play in a recreational area. He had to return to normal, or at least he had to resume the outward trappings of normal behavior. The crowded, noisy rec room full of Humans was forced therapy.
After the first few minutes, he was able to ignore the presence of those around him and concentrate on the board, the moves, what little conversation Jim made. Everything else was a blur.
Then, on some impulse he did not understand, he looked up and toward the door just as it opened. Sulu stalked into the room and Spock found his attention focused painfully on the young man. He had the odd thought that he hardly recognized him in the gold uniform. His eyes did not leave Sulu as the lieutenant moved in graceful, angry strides across the room. People spoke to Sulu, he acknowledged them, but moved past. His body seemed taut with pent-up tension, but his face was as deliberately blank as it had been among the customers in Seanan’s brothel.
Something was causing the lieutenant pain, and Spock longed to move across the space that separated them to comfort him. Improper. Impossible. Captain Kirk asked a question. Spock didn’t hear it, didn’t even listen. His complete attention, all the emotion he was unable to deal with, was concentrated on the slight, dark-haired man.
I do not -- I cannot -- I must stop this....
Jim’s hand touched his arm. “Spock?”
Spock shrank from the touch, shook the hand away. He stood, heard himself say “Excuse me.” And felt Sulu’s eyes burning into his back as he fled the room.
Jim watched him leave, wanting to follow, but thinking it might be better to give him time to regain his composure. He turned his attention to Sulu, the obvious catalyst for Spock’s discomfort. He felt an irrational wave of irritation, and chided himself for it. It really wasn’t Sulu’s fault.
Sulu finally took a seat at an empty table. He held a flask of what was probably saké, and seemed intent on a bout of solitary drinking. Not at all like the sociable, amiable helmsman Kirk remembered.
Kirk shook his head worriedly. There was only one solution he could think of, and that would be only a partial cure. Still, it would be better than watching Spock tear himself up. And Sulu, too, of course. He rose from his chair and approached him.
“May I see you in private, Lieutenant?”
Sulu set down the small cup, shrugged, and got to his feet. “Sure, Captain. Now?”
Kirk nodded, and they went in silence to the Captain’s office, taking seats on opposite sides of the desk. Sulu eyed Kirk warily, and he seemed on the edge of some kind of emotional blow-up. It wasn’t going to make what Jim had to say any easier, but he had to think of Spock first.
“Mr. Sulu,” he began, “I saw what happened in the rec room a few minutes ago. And I recall what Mr. Spock said to you in the turbolift. I know there has been a great deal of understandable tension between you two.” Sulu started to make a defensive comment, but Kirk hurried on before he could speak. “And I’m well aware that the antagonism is on Spock’s part. I think you remind him too much of what happened. He’s not ready to face that. He hasn’t gotten his self-respect back yet. That no one else thinks any less of him - of either of you - doesn’t change how he sees himself. Seeing each other every day just keeps reopening old wounds. The best way I can think of to solve this problem is for you to transfer.”
Sulu sat bolt upright, eyes widening. He gulped, then stated flatly, “I don’t want a transfer.”
Jim ignored the tone and said reasonably, “You have an excellent record. This won’t hurt you at all. I’ll give you the highest recommendation. You’ll be up for promotion in--”
“I don’t want a transfer, Captain,” Sulu repeated, his voice hard.
“It’s difficult for you to know what you want right now,” Kirk insisted. “I think this would be best for everyone involved.”
“You mean you think it would be best for Spock,” Sulu corrected bitterly.
Kirk sighed. Well, it was the truth. It was pointless to deny it. “Yes. I don’t want to lose the best First Officer in Fleet.”
“You don’t want....” Sulu closed his eyes in an effort to control his emotions. When he opened them again, they were filled with anguish. “What about what I want? That doesn’t matter, does it? It’s what you want that’s important, and you’re going to use your rank to get it.”
“Mister,” Kirk warned, “I can understand your being upset, but I’ll only give you so much leeway. Don’t push it.”
Sulu laughed, a short, angry bark. “I understand, too, Captain. Maybe a lot better than you do. You think I give a damn about what you can do to me? Transfer me, court marshal me, beam me out at widest dispersal -- I don’t care. You can get rid of a rival, but you can’t change what happened between Spock and me.”
“What do you mean, rival?” Kirk demanded, as angry now as Sulu. How dare he? Rival!? What Spock and I share took years to develop. You spent only a few short months with him. And Spock was drugged the entire time. You’re nothing more than a reminder of painful memories, memories that I want to protect him from.
“Face it, Captain,” Sulu sneered at him. “You’re jealous. That’s the real reason you want to transfer me.”
“Nonsense,” Kirk snapped.
“And I’m jealous of you.”
Kirk stared, quite flabbergasted at Sulu’s words. Thoughts tumbled over each other in his mind, images and memories and suppositions crowding for attention. One image overwhelmed all others: the sight of Spock and Sulu, oblivious to the people around them, Spock aroused and Sulu satisfying him, touching him, giving him what Jim never had. And he had been angry, furious at the degrading spectacle. And even more upset, somewhere deep inside, that it had been Sulu and not himself that had been capable of making Spock react like that. He hated Sulu, and wasn’t proud of himself for it. But he hadn’t thought of how Sulu might’ve felt.
Sulu is in love with him, too, and every word he’s said is true. Kirk shut his eyes and forced the starship captain to think about this situation and assess the effects on not two, but three lives. Damn it all to hell, how did this mess get started? I don’t want to hurt Sulu, do I? Surely I’m a better man than that. But what do I want?
That answer came easily. I want Spock.
But what does Spock want? Ultimately, it’s Spock’s decision, it has to be. Trust him. Trust the years you’ve been his friend. Trust that not even a powerful hallucinogen can change that. Whatever happened on Caria was ultimately a lie, a fantasy. He may not want me, but it won’t be because he wants some false romance.
But you have to play fair, he told himself with sudden aching. You can’t simply eliminate the competition, or Sulu’s right and you are using rank to rid yourself of a rival. Are you that unsure of yourself? Are you that unsure of Spock? But you can’t push him. God, you can’t even tell him – unless Sulu does, too. Or can’t I? It’s his decision, but doesn’t he need facts with which to make it? And how would it be my fault if Sulu hasn’t told him how he feels?
And what if Caria wasn’t an aberration? What if what they shared was real? What if what Spock wants is…
Rival.
He finally remembered Sulu, still sitting there, watching him.
“We’ll discuss this later Lieutenant,” he told him, then added, “Dismissed.”
“Second time tonight,” Sulu said, more to himself than to Kirk.
Kirk didn’t ask for an explanation, he just waited until the young man left before calling Spock’s cabin.
Spock did something he had never done before. He went to the rec room and programmed it for a Vulcan garden at night. He sat for a long time under remembered starlight and hot breezes, breathing the scent of desert air flavored subtly with night-blooming flowers. He tried to find calm, to find himself in the familiar yet foreign place. Yet Spock of Vulcan was not to be found there. The fact terrified him. He tried the strict order of the Academy, the busy chaos of Starfleet Headquarters, and even, in desperation, the distorted familiarity of Seanan’s brothel. None of it helped. Nowhere was a sense of peace, of belonging, of self which he so desperately needed. He came to the conclusion that there was no place he could program that would.
He left the rec room for his quarters, intending on showering and trying to get some sleep. He never slept for long, and what little sleep he got was never restful. But his dreams, though troubling, were often more pleasing than his waking hours.
He found the message light on his com blinking – and Sulu waiting in his cabin as he entered.
“Dr. McCoy told me to talk to you,” Sulu said tonelessly, though the space between them nearly crackled with emotion. The atmosphere paralyzed him and Spock was unable to answer for some time. The continued silence made Sulu increasingly uncomfortable and, oddly enough, angry. His stare became defiant, as if daring Spock to tell him to leave. Spock wondered at his anger. He hoped he did not betray his agitation when he finally answered.
“I see. Is that why you found it necessary to invade my privacy?”
Sulu flushed. “I had to see you… and not just because I was ordered to. You weren’t here. I didn’t know where to look for you, so I waited.”
Spock managed a mechanical nod, but his eyes lingered on the shining cap of black hair, the liquid dark eyes. The Asian features had an almost Vulcan look at times. You are very beautiful Hikaru, he thought, but he turned his attention to the flashing message light. He stepped to the com and depressed the switch that would play the message.
“Spock,” came the Captain’s voice, “I need to speak to you at your earliest convenience.”
“Excuse me, Lieutenant, I must return the Captain’s call,” he said, and Sulu rose. The thought that he would leave sent panic through Spock’s thoughts. “It will be just a moment,” he said quickly. Something unnamed flashed deep in Sulu’s eyes, and he sat back down, his head tilted questioningly. Spock activated the com.
“Kirk,” the Captain answered.
“Captain, you asked to speak with me?” Spock said.
“Yes, Spock.” Kirk’s voice sounded relieved. “It’s a - personal matter. Can you come to my cabin?”
“I am – engaged – at the moment, sir, but when I am free, I will certainly do so.”
“Engaged?” Kirk asked warily.
“Mr. Sulu apparently has orders from Dr. McCoy to speak with me.”
There was a pause, then Spock heard Kirk’s slow intake of breath. “Very well, Mr. Spock. Kirk out.”
Spock closed the com, then returned his attention to Sulu. “On what subject does Dr. McCoy wish you to speak?” he asked. But he stepped no closer to the young lieutenant.
Their eyes met and the tension that had been momentarily disrupted once again flared between them.
“You. Me. What you remember. What you don’t,” Sulu returned. His gaze dropped. “About Caria.”
A different sort of panic engulfed Spock’s mind. Dream fragments, distorted half-memories welled up around him. He knew he was flushed and he felt his hands starting to tremble.
“What…” he stammered, then swallowed convulsively and began again. “What aspect of…”
Sulu rose from the bed. “I know it’s difficult,” he said softly. “Does it help to know that I remember everything – so you only have to make a reference…”
“No, that makes it much, much worse,” Spock managed.
“I see,” Sulu echoed. There was silence for a while. “I don’t want to… I can tell McCoy that you don’t…”
“Why did he want you to speak to me?” Spock interrupted, hoping the anguish didn’t color his voice. Sulu took a step closer to him.
“He thinks – I haven’t been sleeping, and… he’s concerned about…” Again, Sulu’s eyes looked up into his. “And he’s worried about you and…” The Asian’s voice abruptly changed, the soft tones becoming full of harsh self-recrimination. “All right, I’ll stop stalling. I’ll be concise – and honest. McCoy guessed it anyway. And the captain knows. He wants me to transfer but I don’t think I could bear it – unless you tell me there’s no chance…” He took a deep breath. “I dream about Caria, Spock. Every night. And sometimes I wish we were still there.” Spock couldn’t stop the hiss of air that escaped him, but Sulu went on as if he hadn’t noticed. “Because there, you let me… there we could… we might have…” Sulu took another deep breath. “Because there I could tell you that I love you.”
Spock had not expected to hear those words, had not wanted to hear them... Except in your dreams, in your secret heart… But it solves nothing, makes nothing any easier! “That is not possible.” He stepped past Sulu, went into the bedroom, and stood before the weapons display. “It is not possible.”
Sulu followed him. He put a hand on Spock’s shoulder -- gentle, familiar touch – and Spock could feel the terrible anguish that flowed through the Human’s thoughts. “What isn’t possible?” he asked. “That I can love you?” Sulu shook his head. “You’re wrong,” he continued. “It just isn’t possible for me to stop.”
The words seared him even as they filled his soul with hope. “We are too different, Hikaru, I....” his voice trailed off. He could not understand why he had used Sulu’s given name. He could not turn to face him. “Since we were rescued,” he told him slowly, “I, too, have dreamt of Caria. But I fear – I think they may be but memories. About you. About us. I relive our life on Caria, fragments, images in which… in which we share – that which you speak of.” He felt the shockwave of surprise that went through Sulu, but went on. “I cannot banish these memories, yet I cannot – I have no frame of reference with which to deal with them. The – emotions – they engender in me…” He turned, allowing himself to look into Sulu’s eyes, acknowledging his own helplessness. “At first I told myself that I felt only gratitude toward you. You were kind when duty required only that you help me survive. Logically, I should have acknowledged what you had done and left it at that.” He paused, lowering his head. “I did not want to. I wanted… to talk to you, to find out if the fragments I recalled were accurate.” His voice grew almost inaudible. “If the emotions I remembered had been shared or were simply part of the drug-induced hallucinations.” He raised his head resolutely. “But when I asked Dr. McCoy if I could speak with you, I was told you had left with Lieutenant Uhura. You obviously did not need me. You wanted to resume your life. Understandable. And perhaps it was only hallucination after all. So I did not speak to you. I feared I would say too much, that I would influence you, or would make you feel guilt or responsibility for me. I did not want to interfere with what you wanted.”
“I didn’t realize.... I didn’t think you’d want… McCoy told me you were always with…” Sulu paused, then said softly. “It wasn’t done to hurt you. I didn’t want to intrude on what you wanted.”
Spock continued as if he had not been interrupted. “Then when Mr. Chekov implied that you were.... I grew angry on your behalf. More than angry. I have never experienced such a protective reaction before. I fought it, and in doing so... What I said was meant as comfort, that it was a fact like any other and changed nothing. But it sounded like a rebuke. For that, I am sorry, Sulu. The feelings I experience in connection with you are....deeper than I… You are male, you are Human. We are very different…” Bewilderment over took his senses. “Yet I have changed because of you. I am very lonely without you. I long for – the private moments, the feelings I remember. I am not familiar with emotional displays, or demonstrations, or even acknowledgements, and I do not know how to state… how to tell you... impossible though it is...” He took a deep breath. “I find to my amazement that I also love you.”
Sulu’s answer came in a stunned whisper. “Oh.” Then, jubilantly, “Oh!” Strong hands grasped Spock’s arms. Sulu’s eyes and smile were full of joyous enchantment and new-found hope. Spock’s pain began to melt under that smile. “I thought you were the one who wanted to forget,” Sulu murmured as his eyes searched Spock’s face. “It hurt, you seemed so cold to me. You seemed so happy to be with the Captain again. And I wanted you to be happy. I mean...”
“Why did you go with Uhura?” Spock cut in.
“Why did you go with Kirk?” Sulu countered.
Spock raised an eyebrow in honest consternation. “He is my friend,” he replied simply. He watched as Sulu considered this statement for a moment, then nodded. “You didn’t answer my question,” Spock prompted.
Sulu sighed, his shoulders shrugging. “To prove my manhood,” he replied quietly, obviously contritely. “It was my first chance in two months to sleep with someone I hadn’t been forced to sleep with -- except you, I mean -- and I grabbed it.” The handsome features flushed. “And all it really proved was that Seanan’s training paid off.”
For one of the rare times in his life, Spock followed an impulse and pulled Sulu into a fierce kiss. They were both startled by it. But Sulu’s mouth opened beneath his, and he allowed Spock to draw his tongue into his mouth. Spock found this a most delightful sensation, and lost himself for long minutes. When Sulu’s fingers came up to stroke his ears, Spock felt a jolt of desire course through him and pulled quickly away. Sulu stared at him in disappointment.
“What’s wrong? I thought....”
Spock had to take several deep breaths before he could answer steadily. “We are not thinking at all. Nothing has been settled.”
“What else needs to be settled? I love you, you love me.” Sulu’s dark eyes were filled with desperate entreaty. “Please don’t back away, Spock.”
Spock touched the yearning face gently. “There are things we should discuss before we begin a…. liaison.”
Sulu grinned at his choice of words. “Okay, let’s discuss.” The young man took his hand and led him to the bed, pulling him to sit down on it. “But we love each other, that’s what matters.”
Spock sighed, not wanting to explain but knowing he had to. “I am a telepath, you know that. In any sexual relationship we would meld. Such sharing is frightening to many non-telepaths.”
“It didn’t frighten me,” Sulu reminded him.
“Your choices were limited then.” Before Sulu could speak, he went on, “And I must some day marry and have an heir.”
Sulu straightened at that. “Because of the pon farr?”
Spock was embarrassed by Sulu’s casual mention of it, but remembered he had told him of it while he was drugged and had felt no shame then. “Because I am Vulcan,” he evaded.
“And Human. But we’ve got at least five years before you have to worry about that. You told me that on Caria.”
“I recall the conversation.”
“And a lot can happen in five years. Especially in the kind of business we’re in.”
That was true. Starfleet service was not a safe life. Spock saw the subtle logic in what Sulu was saying. To accept their feelings and have whatever they could together would be far more logical than denying them for some vague future that might never materialize. Spock had to agree. He wanted to agree. But there was more to Vulcan relationships than was the norm for the infinitely more casual Humans.
“Yet if fortune favors us, this cannot be – I cannot have… A relationship which is deliberately intended to be short-term is not…”
Sulu put a finger to his lips. “I know. I don’t want this to be short term. All I meant was when pon farr happens, we’ll deal with it then. ”
Spock flushed, unexpectedly grateful. “I wanted to be certain you were aware of all the facts. We must, after all, adjust to one another. This is not Caria where we have no other responsibilities or choices. Our duty must still come first.”
Sulu ran his fingers through Spock’s hair and traced the delicate tips of his ears. “Don’t you think I know that? I’ve thought about it - well, dreamt about it a lot.”
“As have I.” Spock took Sulu’s hands in his, and added almost shyly, “And I have found sleeping alone most unpleasant.”
Sulu’s smile was very gentle, very loving. “Is that the most blatant seduction you can manage?”
“I’m afraid so, yes.”
“That’s all right,” Sulu assured him. “It’ll do.”
Kirk waited anxiously for Spock to come on duty the next morning. He had received an apologetic call sometime after 0200 hours, Spock explaining that the conversation with Lieutenant Sulu had taken longer than he had anticipated, and asking if their meeting could be delayed until morning. Kirk, of course, said it could, but he hadn’t slept a wink. When the turbolift doors opened and Spock and Sulu stepped onto the bridge together, Kirk’s heart twisted painfully. Am I too late?
He watched numbly as they paused momentarily before going to their stations. Sulu smiled brightly at the Vulcan, and much to Kirk’s hurt surprise, the Vulcan returned it. It was the faintest of smiles, not the rare, delighted grin that he had several times seen light the stoic features. This was even more beautiful, if that were possible. It radiated peace, contentment, and shared understanding. It nearly killed Kirk to see Spock give it to someone other than himself.
Nearly.
He had spent the night wrestling with his own conscience, coming to grips with the fact that he could possibly lose this battle. And learning to accept the possibility. He realized now that he hadn’t done a very good job of it -- but at least he didn’t come roaring out of the con to pull the two apart.
Too late.
He swiveled his chair back to face the viewscreen, to stare blindly at the stars.
Resign yourself to it, Kirk, he told himself harshly. You’ve still got the best First Officer in Fleet. You’ve still got your best friend. You’ve still got the Enterprise. What more could any man want?