(Standard Year 2251)
Return to Valjiir Stories
Their love-making had been playful, gentle, and most of all equal, three things sex with Richard never was. It was near dawn and they were lying on Jade's bed, enjoying yet another glass of wine and indulging themselves in the kind of sexual play that isn't really intended to lead to anything else. Simone had just accidentally spilled some of the wine onto her stomach, and Jade, doubting it was an accident, had just slid down to lick it up when the bedroom door opened.
"Can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?" Richard sneered.
Jade started, pulling the sheet up over her body almost as a reflex.
"Never heard of knocking, Richard?" Simone asked caustically.
"Never heard of men?" Richard replied, matching her tone.
"Richard..." Jade stumbled, "...you didn't call... and I... I didn't..."
"I can see what you 'didn't'," he mocked. "Well, it's obvious that you don't need me..." He turned to leave and Jade jumped up from the bed.
"Richard, please, let me explain!"
"Jade, he's right," Simone's soft voice said. "You really don't need him. The man's no good for you."
Richard turned back with a mocking leer. "You wouldn't think any man was good for her, would you, Simone?"
"I wouldn't think you were good for her even if you were a woman," Simone returned coolly.
Richard's face darkened. "I don't have to stay and listen to this."
"No one invited you," Simone pointed out.
"Simone, shut up!" Jade hissed. "Richard, if you'd just listen...."
"Tell Sigmund, honey," Richard jeered. "It'll make as much sense as any of the other shit you make up as you go along."
Jade felt her skin burning. "I can understand how this affects you..."
"Affects me? What makes you think anything you do or anything you could do would possibly ever affect me? My life's set, Jade. You're just in the way of it."
Tears scalded Jade's eyes. "Please, don't say that..."
"You're the one who wants this, Jade. That's fine. But I don't play second chair to anyone."
"Simone doesn't mean anything to me!"
"Jade!" came Simone's gasp from the bed. The wine ached in Jade's head, the anguish that somehow pulled her to Richard was pounding in her. She heard herself pleading with him not to leave, she heard herself telling Simone to get out. She heard herself soothing Richard's jealousy, humbling herself, giving in to every argument he made, agreeing to every accusation. She proved her love by inviting, seducing, and finally begging him to make love to her. But the memory of Simone's sweet, caring giving wouldn't leave her. When Richard fell asleep, as he always did, she cried in the bathroom, hard enough to bring up all the wine she'd drunk. "You don't drink, do you?" Robyn said over breakfast.
Jade sipped her coffee, shaking her head.
"Maybe you should start. A couple of really great hangovers might cure this nasty escapist habit you're developing."
A smile tugged at Jade's lips. "Why do you think I don't?" She pushed her plate away, preparing to stand. Robyn reached across the cafeteria table, grasping her hand, her expression frustrated and angry.
"Doctor, you're too good to fuck up on something that's this important." The brown eyes softened. "Think about that next time you fill your pipe, huh?"
"I will," Jade replied, then sighed as Robyn's grip tightened. "I promise." Reluctantly, Robyn let go, still eyeing Jade with wary skepticism. "Really," Jade added. Her voice must have carried some conviction, because Robyn nodded.
"Therapy in half an hour, right?" she said.
"Yes, Robyn."
"Okay. I've got some modifications to get in before you start so make sure I'm clear."
"Yes, Robyn."
"And remember what I said."
"Yes, Robyn."
"Stop that!"
Jade smiled. "Yes, Robyn."
The red alert blared suddenly.
That was wrong.
Jim turned to Uhura, expecting a sheepish apology.
"Klingon ship, heading 314 mark 02 and closing," Chekov said from Navigation.
"Shields up, phasers armed," Sulu added immediately.
"Wait just a minute," Jim began, turning back. He'd received no report, given no orders...
"No time, Captain," Spock's voice said from over his shoulder.
"Firing all phasers," Sulu continued, "arming photon torpedoes."
"Wait!" Jim demanded, rising from the con.
"Direct hit," Chekov reported. "They are returning fire."
The ship rocked with the impact.
"Second ship approaching, warp two," Spock said.
"Firing photon torpedoes," Sulu responded.
"Changing course to intercept second ship," Chekov returned.
"Fire at will as soon as we are in range," Spock began.
"STOP!" Jim thundered. All eyes turned to him. He glared back, planting his feet, hands on his hips. "Status, Mr. Spock; position of enemy vessels, Mr. Chekov; Mr. Sulu, keep firing in defensive pattern until I can assess the situation; Uhura, turn that noise off."
The chorus of yes, sirs was most satisfying.
Still, it was wrong, and Jim knew it.
"How did you know?" Jade asked.
Jim scowled, sitting up from the relaxed slouch the psycho-cin chair demanded. "Easy. Vulcans don't fire at will." His feet swung over the side of the couch onto the floor. "You should know that, Dr. Han."
And you shouldn't've caught it, Jade thought triumphantly, noting it in her data file. All it proves is that you can handle it when you know it isn't real, but still...
"Yes, Jim, I should know that," she acknowledged. He was rubbing his temples. "Headache?" she asked. He nodded.
"I thought - I think I should've been - should've reacted to -- usurping my com-- command..." The pace of his breathing was quickening. "But I knew it wasn't -- wasn't really -- he wouldn't..." He grit his teeth. Jade checked the monitors. Heart rate up, blood pressure up. "I knew it wasn't real and neither was -- is my fear, so..." He took a deep breath, and his last words came out in a rush. "But it gives me a headache to work it out."
"Let it go, Jim," Jade soothed. "There's no need to dwell on it. You've worked it out just fine."
Jim gave a shaky sigh. "Fire at will," he muttered. "Should know Vulcans better than that."
Jade smiled. "Yes, Jim."
She did, of course, know Vulcans better than that. She had, in fact, before she’d ever been to the desert planet. After all, she had grown up next door to the nephews of Amanda Grayson, Spock’s cousins. She’d never gotten along with the boys, and so it was natural that she become an ally of the Vulcan cousin they bullied so mercilessly. Spock never fought back. When she was young, it had infuriated her. She had argued, screamed, even done a little bullying herself to try to make the quiet, reserved boy defend himself. And he had calmly explained the Way of Surak, the philosophy of peace and total logic. And while she still hated the way he let his cousins run roughshod over him, she understood.
That had made it all the more difficult for her to understand what Selar Seliklrn Vtkrghdantm, her official Vulcan ‘case study,’ did to his Indiian child bride.
Over the course of the years she spent studying Vulcan psychology, she had learned as much from Selar as from her comparative research; far more, in fact, than she'd expected to, far more than she'd thought possible. She learned various Vulcan techniques of control and meditation. She learned to consciously regulate her respiration and heartbeat. She learned to not react outwardly when she thought it inappropriate. She learned why and how Vulcans used and took refuge in these things.
Selar became more than an assistant or a subject. At first he was her tutor, then he became a caring friend. They grew closer in her first year on Vulcan than she had felt to many of her Terran friends, for he learned as much about her as she learned about him.
She also learned, unfortunately, to love him.
Then, five years later…
Jade reached for her pipe, ignoring the echo of Robyn's voice and her own promise in her head. Jim's headache prevented further psycho-cin therapy, and he was undergoing more physical -- rehabilitation. With a surrogate. She had returned to her quarters, thinking of Vulcans and Selar... and she had to prepare a report for Baker.
"So I need this," she said to the empty room, but her defense sounded weak even to her.
And if you really do need it, Doctor...
"Yes, I know," she answered herself in annoyance. She paced across the small room and forced herself to sit at her desk and key up her report log minus her pipe.
"Status log, number three two, code N-O-V-A-C-E-K voice print check alb p’salk sp’ra’l.” Her voice trembled on the Vulcan greeting, and she had to repeat the words to gain access to the encrypted files. "Results of psychological cinema evaluation session, parameters six one E.V. -- "
The door buzzer sounded and Jade startled. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Save and clear," to the computer, and "come" to the door. It slid open.
Jim stood in the doorway, left hand pressed against his temple, an orderly at his side.
"Jim?" Jade stood, moving quickly to him. "What is it? Are you alright?"
"His headache's worse, Doctor," the aide answered. "The surrogate said he was becoming agitated."
"He can talk, Mr. Weiler," Jade snapped.
Jim grimaced. "Not -- well -- at the moment -- Doctor."
The touch of humor, however grim, was reassuring. Jim wasn't regressing then. Jade apologized to Weiler and dismissed him, assuring him she could handle her patient. Then she gently led Jim to sit on her bed, pulling her desk chair next to him, trying not to seem self-conscious, nor reveal how unprofessional the thought of him sitting on her bed made her feel. She took his hands, speaking softly, using breathing techniques to help him gain some mastery over his headache. When his face had relaxed, losing some of the tightness, she said gently, "Tell me, Jim."
He grimaced again. "I was trying to relax with Lynn," he began. Jade frowned, then quickly schooled her features. Mention of the surrogate disturbed her -- one of the reasons James on her bed made her uneasy. She hoped he hadn't caught it. "Just swimming," he added, a little too defensively.
Damn. He caught it. But isn't this kind of perceptiveness good?
"But I couldn't stop thinking about -- about the session." He paused, his grip tightening in hers. "There's something about it -- about my reaction. I mean I knew the attack was wrong, but -- " He took a deep breath, his forehead wrinkling. "I was wrong. I didn't -- react -- like I think I should. Only..." His eyes met hers. "I don't know how I should have or why I think that and something -- something keeps trying to come out." He shook his head. "And I don't know what that is, either."
"You said something after the session about usurping your command," Jade put in carefully.
"Yes, I -- I know. I remember -- something. I'm not sure what. And it scares me." Jim stood up, pulling away from Jade's reassuring hands. "I know now that my fears are as -- unreal as -- as the pain." He held up a hand as Jade started to speak. "Now, Doctor. I've got no one inflicting pain now." He grinned crookedly. "Except myself." The grimace returned. "I'm afraid to remember. I'm afraid remembering will hurt. I want to stop hurting myself, I want to stop being afraid." His hands came up to press his temples. "Tell me how to do that, Doctor."
Breakthrough! Jade's mind thundered wordlessly. Breakthrough, breakthrough! Go slow, go careful, oh gods, Jade, don't fuck it up!
"Jim..." she began slowly, rising to stand in front of him, locking her eyes on his. "You remember the session." He nodded. "There's no pain there." Another nod. "You should've felt -- something -- at someone taking command of the situation out of your hands."
"Yes," Jim hissed through clenched teeth.
"In the context of the session, Jim; what should the man in the session have felt?"
"Anger," Jim responded promptly.
"Threatened?" Jade suggested.
"By whom? Vulcans don't..." Jim's eyes opened wide. "He should have. But I didn't. Because Vulcans don't."
For a moment Jade had to battle an unintended, giddy urge to check to see if James had purple eyes. He had just then sounded exactly like Ruth Valley. She shook the image away. "Who should have?" she asked.
"Any captain -- " Jim swallowed hard. "-- in the session should feel threatened. His command is being bypassed. But I didn't -- " His face tightened again. "Me in the session didn't because I trust -- I trust him -- Vulcans. Vulcans are loyal, fanatically loyal. He -- no Vulcan would usurp..." Jim started to breathe very heavily, his hands fiercely massaging his temples, his eyes closing.
"Jim, look at me," Jade put in urgently. "Memories, Jim. Look at me and think -- tell me what's happening." She carefully grasped his elbows, her eyes intent on his face.
Jim's eyes opened, panic swirling at the edges of his dilated pupils. "A uniform..." he rasped. "My uniform -- " he gasped sharply. " -- and he -- a Vulcan..."
"He has a name," Jade whispered.
"He wouldn't betray me!" Jim burst out, breaking from Jade's grasp. "Not for her, not for anyone!"
"What?" Jade gasped. Jim turned back to her, his breathing ragged, fists pressed to the sides of his head.
"He wouldn't, I trust him, how dare you..." Anger blazed violently in his darkening eyes, "...how dare you suggest it, how dare you give him that role?"
"Sp -- Spock?" Jade stammered in confusion.
"Yes, Spock, damn it...!" Jim inhaled sharply, falling abruptly to his knees. "Oh god!" he hissed, his voice hoarse with mounting pain. "Oh god, oh god, make it stop... make it stop!"
In anguish of her own, Jade knelt beside him, placing her hands on his face. "Anger at me, Jim, you're angry at me. Turn it out here, not at yourself. Jim, be angry at me. Jim... Jim, turn it out!"
"DAMN YOU!" Jim exploded, and Jade was thrown nearly back to the bed with the force of his furious movement, knocking over her chair. "All your Freudian garbage, rivals, lovers, betrayal..." Jim ranted. "It wasn't her, It's got nothing to do with her! He's loyal to me, damn it all, loyal to..." He began sobbing. "Loyal to me, he's Vulcan, he won't threaten - he can't threaten - Vulcans don't... Vulcans are loyal..." Jim crumpled to the floor, tears streaming from his eyes, and Jade heard him whisper, "Spock."
She crawled over to him, hugging him, soothing him. He'd made a connection. She'd placed Spock as usurper in the session quite unconsciously. That triggered his memory of his nightmares years ago, during her first year on the Enterprise. She had suggested then, given the contents of the dreams, that he was jealous over Spock's recent marriage; jealous not of Ruth Valley, Spock's wife, with whom Jim had had a casual but not-by-any-means meaningless affair, but rather jealous of Spock; jealous the Vulcan had chosen a normal life over the lonely demands of Starfleet career officer -- the choice Jim had made. Jade had believed then that Jim was angry Spock had, in essence chosen Ruth over him. And her presence here had tied into Jim's memories of her presence then and had made the reaction -- and the connection – impossible to repress. His anger at her diagnosis then had been denied. But with the memory of Spock in his uniform -- captain's gold -- and the rage that sight had evoked when he had been retrieved from Earth's past, even in his mind-sifted state he was forced to see, and some part of his self had been trying to solve it ever since. The session brought it all to the fore. Poor James!
Jade waited until Jim's tears had run their course. Then she spoke softly.
"He is loyal, Jim. She doesn't change that. Part of you knows it. Part of you is afraid, but your fear is unreal. All you need do is let go of the fear." She took a deep breath. "Spock is loyal," she said, and waited for his reaction.
Jim stiffened, his voice halting, "I saw -- Sp -- him..." he grit his teeth. "I saw Spock in my -- my uniform."
"A captain's uniform," Jade corrected gently. "When he came to bring you from that other hospital."
"Yes," Jim agreed hoarsely.
"You'd been gone -- missing for over a year, Jim. He had to be captain."
"A -- a year?" Jim stammered.
Jade held his hands. "Yes, Jim. He wasn't disloyal."
"Cap -- captain's -- uniform. Not mine. Just..."
"Just captain's. Yes, Jim."
"Lots of uniforms," Jim murmured.
"Yes, Jim. Lots of uniforms."
He squinted, biting his lower lip. "I remember lots of uniforms. I remember... Mr. Baker -- " He stopped. "No," he tried again, "Doctor Baker. In uniform. There were lots of..."
"Doctor Baker?" Jade broke in
"Yes. Doctor Baker. The man here. But he was in - he had a uniform."
Jade was shaken down to her soul. Rear-Admiral Baker was a doctor. Not a paper-pusher, not an administrative desk jockey, not a herbert by-the-book. Not someone whose pushing, whose talk of projects and resources and deadlines, could be excused, if not appreciated. A doctor! Jade felt rage building within her, an incredulous, disbelieving fury. It was unacceptable, unforgivable...!
"Doctor?" Jim's voice asked hesitantly.
Jade shook her head. "I'm sorry, Jim," she managed. "Please, go on."
"That's all. Lots of uniforms,"
"And Spock," she ventured.
He grimaced. "And -- Spock."
"Jim, what are uniforms? What do they mean?" Jade asked, pushing, she knew, but needing this to counteract her own sense of anger.
"Starfl—" Jim began automatically, then gasped again.
"Just a word," Jade said quickly. "Like in the session, Jim. Put it in terms of the session."
"I'm tired, Doctor," Jim whispered.
Jade kept her sigh to herself. "Of course, Jim. We've done quite a lot for one day."
Jim looked wearily at her. "Did you plan this when you set up the session?"
She shook her head, this time in answer rather than to clear her mind. "No. You did this on your own. And I'm very proud of you."
He grinned tiredly. "So why do I feel worse?"
"Your headache's gone, isn't it?" she countered, getting to her feet and offering her hand. He took it, but stood up on his own.
"Yeah, I guess it is."
"Getting through these blocks is hard work. Which is why you're tired. But it's good work, Jim."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
"You're the doctor." He scrubbed the backs of his hands over his face, then paused. "If you didn't plan it, how did you make such a -- excuse me – such a stupid mistake?"
"Mistake?" Jade asked, righting the desk chair she had fallen over.
"About Vulcans. ‘Fire at will’."
"That was planned. Your reaction wasn't."
"Then you do know Vulcans..."
"...better than that." She smiled. "Yes, I do."
"Doctor?"
"Yes, Jim?"
"How do I know that?"
Jade took a deep breath and faced him. "We've known each other for some time."
"We have?"
"Yes. From before your -- accident."
His forehead wrinkled. "You know Sp -- Spock." It wasn't a question.
"Yes, Jim."
He straightened. "You were wrong. Not rivals."
"Yes, Jim. I was wrong. It was fear, wasn't it?"
Jim stared at her, then walked slowly to the door. "It still is," he said.
The door opened and Weller stepped forward. Jim nodded to him.
"Back to Lynn?" Weller asked Jim.
The door closed on Jim's reply.
Jade took several minutes to make frantic notes. So much opened up, yet there were still so many blocks. It isn't hopeless, I can do this...
And keep him alive?
No, not now. I won't think of that now!
Father.
Richard.
Alan Turing.
Selar.
No, no! Vulcans, I know Vulcans better than that. Of course I do. My work with - my report is the standard - the only Federation text on Vulcan psychology. True, the Vulcan Science Academy has never recognized it, nor that psychology is a real science, but then again, neither do many physicists or mathematicians of nearly any race so I suppose they can be forgiven...
Mathematicians.
Physicists.
Sijer frowned. "I have a measure of respect for certain aspects of Terran computer science," he said, "but I find it hard to approve of the work of a man so deeply involved in the history of Terran warfare."
It was Jade's turn to frown. "Warfare? How do you mean?"
"Are you not aware of Alan Turing's connection with Terra's Second World War? He was employed by the government of a nation called Great Britain, and was instrumental in breaking the military code used by an antagonistic nation called Nazi Germany. I believe it was known as the Enigma Code."
Jade's frown deepened. "If I remember my history, Nazi Germany was a particularly cruel and ruthless empire. Surely any man of conscience would want to oppose such a regime. In military history courses at Alterra, it is taught that the breaking of the Enigma Code was instrumental in shortening that war." But she hadn't known Turing had been involved.
"No doubt you are correct on both counts," Sijer answered dryly. "Nevertheless, to allow oneself to be employed by a government willing to wage war for any reason seems rather distasteful."
"Even so, your distaste for the man's political affiliations hardly contradicts or reduces the importance of his work."
"There was a controversy late in your twentieth century concerning whether scientific data generated in unethical experiments conducted by that same Nazi Germany should be used in later scientific research, even when that data could be used to save lives. Do you feel ill-gotten or unethically obtained data is not rather tainted? If an unscrupulous person in your field obtained valuable psychological data – if there is such a thing as ‘valuable psychological data’…” Sijer paused, then tried again. “Suppose data were obtained through the grossest of torture. Would you not hesitate to use that data? Would not acceptance and use of the data imply a tolerance for the methods by which the data was obtained?" That gave Jade a lot to think about; about her profession, about Turing, and about the way Vulcan ethics permeated all aspects of their lives. Had those ethics permeated Selar's life as well? Had her ethics kept her silent? Had ethics taken him from her before there was a chance to have him?
That she had fallen desperately in love was evident. But she had learned enough, and quickly enough, to avoid telling him so. It would have destroyed their working relationship. Besides, it seemed a rather hopeless and pointless love. True, there had been marriages between Vulcans and Terrans -- most notably Sarek and Amanda, whom she'd actually known when she was a child in Minneapolis. But she'd also known their son and she had no wish for any child of hers to turn out to be that neurotic. And as admirable a people as Vulcans were, and however she might feel about Selar, she also knew how Vulcan men treated their wives. She knew damned well she'd make a lousy Vulcan wife. She resolved to say nothing, to do nothing that could in any way jeopardize what she had, and when her time on Vulcan was over, she swallowed her grief, promised to keep in touch, and said goodbye to Selar and to her dreams of requited love. After all, she told herself, she'd never gotten any indication from Selar that she might be his type.
And this was an idea which was to be painfully confirmed. She returned to Vulcan after an absence of over a year, having turned her resolve on its head. No other relationship in that year had come close to matching what she felt for Selar, and no amount of meditation or control exercises banished him from her thoughts. She'd gathered her courage, mustered every logical argument she could think of and prepared to speak her heart.
Only to be introduced to an Indiian child as 'she who is my wife'. It was mere fortune that gave her a logical reason for her intense but quite involuntary scrutiny of Jilla Costain. Jade had hidden her pain, her jealous anger, her bitter envy, in concern and disapproval of Selar's genetic alteration of his young wife. Her study of Vulcan psychology worked to her advantage and she was able to successfully hide the truth from him. She spoke of ethics. He spoke of commitment and love. Studying Indiian psychology -- a fluke of monumental proportions, since she had just come from her study of the inhabitants of Epsilon Indi -- also enabled her to evade Jilla's sensitivity, which identified emotions but could be manipulated when it came to understanding their cause. Once again, she kept her feelings to herself. She visited as frequently as she could, giving careful respect to Lady Vtkrghdantm and hiding the truth.
But Jade had not returned to Vulcan after Selar's fatal laboratory accident. His death was too great a grief to hide or evade. She could not face his widow with the knowledge of her own unrequited love. It took her many years to bury that feeling, to be able to face and even be friends with Jilla.
Yet still, she had loved Selar, and he had died. As her father had. As Richard had. She had no logical reason to blame herself. After all, she had done nothing.
Or had she? Maybe if she'd told him how she felt, his life would have been different. Or maybe he had known, despite her silence, and had been driven to the arms of an Indiian who wouldn't deny the truth. Vulcans were telepaths. She had been worked closely with Selar for over a year. How could he have not known how she felt? Perhaps it was her fault. Perhaps, having had a taste of a woman's love, the only option she’d left Selar was to find a woman who would acknowledge it.
But whether responsible or not, the fact remained: when Jade loved a man, he died.
Father.
Richard.
Alan Turing.
Selar.
"Good people die far too often," Admiral Baker said, "even when no one does anything wrong. If there is even the slightest trace of incompetence or inappropriateness in the behavior of a starship captain..."
"I know," Jade broke in stonily. It was time again for her weekly verbal abuse session, which officially posed as a status report. She had prepared for it as best she could, had rendered the knowledge of Baker's doctorate down to a simmer of resentment. She had tried to present James' breakthrough in the most positive of terms, but had to, in the end, concede that his response to a situation he knew to be false was not indicative of a corresponding mastery of the real thing. And, of course, instead of seeing the very real progress, Baker had seized upon Jim's acknowledgment that his reaction hadn't been appropriate for 'the man in the session.' "Hundreds of people," Jade acknowledged, "a complete starship, could die in an instant."
"The stakes are higher than that," Baker disagreed. "Entire worlds have been known to hang in the balance. Wars have been declared because of a stray word or misplaced command."
"Which is why," Jade insisted, "we cannot afford to give up on someone who has a proven track record."
"But what happens if your track star loses a leg? Certainly there are prosthetics, bionics; but artificial aids are not allowed in competitions."
Jade grit her teeth and stood up. She was reaching the end of her patience, her anger at the discovery of Baker's true profession approaching the boiling point. "What," she said, "are you talking about? Prosthetics? What has that to do with..."
"My point is there are limits to the amount of damage that can realistically be repaired and still produce a functioning system, one that performs adequately in the expected...."
Jade exploded. "I've had it with 'systems' and 'performance' and 'projects'," she snapped. "Next you'll tell me we should stop wasting a valuable resource on a non-functional system and re-deploy that resource -- meaning me -- into a more productive modality." She started pacing angrily. "I am neither a technician nor a tool, Admiral, and frankly, I am insulted and professionally outraged that you insist upon..."
"Doctor Han..."
"No, you listen this time!" She whirled to face him and planted her palms firmly on his desk. "This time you will hear me. I happen to know you are not the stiff-necked, know-nothing, cog-in-a-machine, report-pusher you pretend so well to be. You were once an experimental psychologist, weren't you? So why are you so hostile to our joint profession? Why do you pretend you don't understand my problems - the immense difficulties and delicate challenges we're facing here? Did you lose one too many patients, Doctor Baker? Were you promoted to a desk to keep your clumsy fingers out of innocent minds?"
"That will be quite enough, Doctor," Baker rumbled. "You are way out of line. I can remove you from this case with a single memo."
Jade blinked. Cold acceptance hit her like a wall of ice. There was nothing more she could do here. Baker would inevitably run out of patience and cancel James. Or he'd push her until she said or did something irrevocable; and as Robyn had said, this was too important to fuck up. However she looked at it, she was going to lose. And she would take James down with her if she fought until the bitter end. There was nothing she could do about it. Perhaps it was time to take a lesson from one of Starfleet's strategy manuals and cut her losses while there was still a chance of finding other therapy for Jim.
"Yes," she said, cold and hard. "I think you're right. I think this is quite enough." She stood straight and smoothed the fabric of her tunic. "I resign." She turned and started toward the door.
"You..." Baker stuttered. The door hissed open. "Hold it right there, mister!"
Jade stopped. She closed her eyes. Why am I stopping? she thought desperately. But she knew why. She wanted to be just bluffing. She wanted Baker to cave in. She bit her lip, still showing Baker nothing but her expressionless back, silently cursing her own weakness.
"Come back in the room," Baker said.
Jade didn't move.
"You're the one with all the optimism and high-sounding ideals," Baker continued. "You know goddamn well that if you walk, James Kirk will never leave this facility."
"Are you admitting," Jade said, pleased that her voice was still hard and cold, and that it didn't break, "that there is a chance I know what I'm doing?"
"I am reminding you that no one else will take this project -- except a few to whom Starfleet will not entrust it."
"It?" Jade stopped herself from pivoting back into the room. She didn't allow herself more than that single syllable.
"Him," Baker corrected grudgingly. A change came into his voice, so suddenly that Jade was astounded. "Sit down, Doctor," he said, and he sounded genuinely worried, shaken -- almost frightened. He said one more word that clinched it, a word Jade had never expected, never even imagined she'd ever hear from him. "Please."
Puzzled more than anything else -- and that was saying something -- Jade stepped slowly back and returned to the plain chair in the middle of the room. Baker sank back to his own seat. Both of his hands rested on the desk. His right hand was clenched and the knuckles were white.
"The only reason," Baker said quietly, "why you are here is that I recommended you."
"I am aware of..."
"The only reason," he went on, ignoring her attempted interruption, "why you remain here is that I continue to recommend it."
"I know where the decision..."
"The reason I continue to recommend it is twofold. One, we need James Kirk for missions far more important than you are currently aware of."
"Then why..."
"And two, the progress you have so far shown is nothing short of astounding."
Jade closed her mouth. Too many questions occurred to her at once for her to choose any one to ask.
Baker sighed. "I am under pressure, Doctor, a great deal of pressure, for reasons you will, I'm sure, someday learn. I have promised Starfleet that Captain Kirk will return to active duty, and in a reasonable amount of time. My reports to High Command, Doctor Han, have been -- even more glowing than yours to me. I have a great deal of confidence in you. The High Command is now convinced that if anyone can help Kirk, it's you, and that if you can't, his case is hopeless. I have staked my career -- as well as your own, and James Kirk's life -- on your skill."
"Then why," Jade asked, finding her voice again, "why have you been such an asshole?"
Baker blinked, then he smiled. "Because, Doctor, in my experience, assholes get things done."
It had been a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Jade hadn't had too many of them recently. When she wasn't fighting with Richard, she was debating psychological insights with Richard; and when she wasn't debating psychological insights with him she was humoring him; and when she wasn't humoring him, she was agonizing over just why in the name of all the gods she was in love with him. But he hadn't made his usual 'I've got tickets to...' call and she'd taken advantage of it. She'd gone to dinner with a couple of friends she'd been shamelessly neglecting, then out to a night club and finally to a small, candle-lit bistro where she sat drinking more wine than was good for her and getting intimately reacquainted with a particularly good friend. When the waiter politely suggested they either stop undressing each other or find a more suitable place, Jade invited Simone back to her apartment.
The director of the VSA was a computer scientist named Sijer. One day Jade found herself explaining her project to him. As an attempt to draw an analogy she thought he'd understand, she mentioned the Turing Test, the classic Terran definition of what should be recognized as a truly 'intelligent' computer.