Star Trek Into Darkness Page 0,99
adversary with the steady determination of a machine, his right fist descending in pulverizing rhythm.
Strike after strike landed, sending more blood and then bits of flesh flying. If fortune was with him and the universe possessed any degree of fairness, Spock thought grimly, Khan would remain aware until the science officer could beat him to death. It was a most human desire, but at that moment, emotional control had long since fled from the science officer’s mind.
It remained for someone else to remind him of who and what he was.
“Spock!” Uhura staggered toward the two men. “Spock!” Another crushing blow landed. “STOP!”
Overcome with fury and bloodlust, only a lifetime of training enabled Spock to make sense of what she was saying—much less pause in his assault to turn and blink at her.
Kill him, Spock told himself. Kill him now, here. So he will never have the opportunity to harm anyone ever again. Kill him because of all he has murdered. Kill him because of . . . Jim.
He drew back his right hand for the final, executioner’s blow.
Then Uhura was there, kneeling in front of him. “Spock, Spock—stop! He’s our only chance to save Kirk!”
What is logical in such a situation? he asked himself. What would be the rational decision? It might not necessarily be what he personally might want to do. It might not necessarily be what even might be considered justice.
Eyeing the beseeching Uhura, the Vulcan brought his closed fist around one last time to smash the recumbent Khan square in the face.
Kirk opened his eyes.
Sunlight. Surprising how, no matter how advanced the simulation, a human could always tell real sunlight. It meant that unless he had been placed in a very peculiar corner of the ship indeed, he was no longer on the Enterprise. He tried to sit up. That didn’t work so well and, for now at least, he had no problem giving up on the notion.
He was surrounded, all but engulfed, by a concatenation of medical instrumentation. They beeped softly and flashed occasionally, flooding his surroundings with an assortment of color extensive enough to be more readily associated with a freshly decorated Christmas tree.
A white-clad figure appeared at the side of his bed to grin down at him. Since he recognized it, it was not, properly, an angel. He could not sit up, but it seemed as if his mouth worked well enough, so he grinned back. So hoarse were the words he formed that he almost did not recognize his own voice.
“I died.”
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic.” McCoy frowned down at him as he placed the instrument he was holding close to the side of Kirk’s head. “You were barely dead. It’s the full effects of the transfusion that really took a toll. Your body fought it right from the beginning. You were out cold for two weeks. Someday I’ll give you a full list of the anti-rejection drugs and other medications we had to pump into you to make it work. Makes for extensive reading.” The grin returned. “Tribbles handle it better.”
His mind not working quite as well as his mouth, Kirk struggled to digest all that the doctor had said. “Transfusion?”
“Your cells were heavily irradiated. We had no choice. The radiation poisoning had begun to affect your organs.”
It took a moment, but the slowly reviving Kirk gradually put everything together. The implications . . .
“Khan?”
McCoy nodded. “Once we caught him, I synthesized a serum from his super blood. Kind of like how an antivenin is produced from the actual venom? Once we got your body to accept the stuff, it . . . repaired you. Fixed damaged cells, protected healthy ones, replaced with astonishing speed those that had died. In all my career, I never saw an individual’s immunity levels rise so fast. Very useful stuff, that blood. I anticipate an assortment of awards once I get around to publishing the results.” He leaned closer. “As to possible side effects, none have been observed so far. How about it? Are ya feeling homicidal? Power mad? Despotic?”
When he could speak again, Kirk replied, “No more than usual.” The image of the grinning doctor seemed to waver, then solidify afresh. “How’d you catch him?”
“I didn’t.”
As McCoy moved to one side, Kirk was able to see to the back of the hospital room. Another figure was standing there. As it now came nearer, it gradually moved into focus.
Captain and first officer regarded each other.
“You saved my life,” Kirk murmured, gazing up at his friend.
“You saved