The Future is Past - August 17
Twisted Shorts August Fic-a-Day Challenge - Day 17
Title: The Future is Past
Author: hermione2be
Rating: PG/FR13/K+
Crossover: BtVS/Star Trek (2009)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of BtVS/Angel or Star Trek people, places, or ideas. This fiction is done simply for pleasure and I receive no profit.
Summary: Buffy spends time on Kirk's version of punishment duty.
Notes: Part 6 - Links Page
Seasons: Post-series/Post-Star Trek (2009)
Characters: Kirk, Spock Buffy, McCoy
Word Count: 2590
Buffy had to admit, when Captain Kirk and Commander Spock put their heads together, they were quite brutal. She had imagined herself cleaning things or stuck in a relay position during the repairs. But they had gone beyond that. She knew Kirk was still debating about her fate. She figured it was a better than simply turning her over to Starfleet…or whoever they would turn her over to for experimentation.
“Winters!” a male voice snapped.
Buffy took a deep breath and gritted her teeth into something resembling a smile. She turned from her position. “Yes, Doctor McCoy?”
“These crates need to be inventoried completely and compared against the order requests I made. Then repack them and store them in the medical storage bay, making sure to check them in so in an emergency we can find them,” he ordered. “Then all the ship’s med kits need to be inventoried and restocked and redistributed throughout the ship based on Starfleet regulations.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied. She waited until he had moved off and turned back to what she was doing. Muttering in Klingon under her breath, she considered Doctor Leonard McCoy. He was one of the older cadets of the last few years. And he was a crotchety man, even as a doctor. Unfortunately, the fight with Nero had catapulted him to Enterprise’s Chief Medical Officer.
Over the last three days, it had become clear Kirk and McCoy were friends. Kirk seemed to know what a slave driver the doctor was and had chosen this assignment as punishment. Perhaps, McCoy had been told that Buffy needed to be driven insane or even hinted that this was an unofficial reprimand. Or, more likely, McCoy was just a pain in the ass with some power.
Buffy finished what she was working on. Seeing the area was empty, she ignored protocol and manually lifted the five hundred pound crate. As soon as it was on the ground, she opened it. Various individual containers were packed inside. She scanned the barcode and counted the samples, then she cross-referenced it with the number ordered by McCoy.
And on and on it went. She kept occupied lifting and sorting things. It was nice to have a bit of time to work on her biceps. She had slipped into a rhythm, whiling away the time by trying to remember what the various medicines did.
So comfortable in the silence and exercise, she nearly dropped the bin she was moving from the top of a stack. “Dear Lord, woman, are you trying to kill yourself?!”
Buffy froze, the box held high in front of her. She sighed and slowly lowered it so she could see him. It looked like he was heading for a coronary, his face red with anger and a vein pulsing in his forehead. She smiled. “Is something wrong, Doctor?”
“You’re out of your little mind,” he told her, nearly yelling. “That is at least two hundred pounds of medicine or equipment.”
She lifted the container higher a moment then back down. “Closer to three hundred.”
His gob-smacked expression continued as Buffy set it down gently. Then he seemed to regain his senses. “Have you been here all night?”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Is it morning?”
Something in her tone set him off again. “Doing this work on no sleep and lifting things three times your weight, you must have a death wish.”
Buffy stiffened. It was true, in a way, had been for almost two hundred years. But something in his tone irked her. “I am more than capable of gaging my abilities.”
“But not time,” he snapped derisively.
“I have ten - no - nine days to complete the tasks assigned to me. When I do them is none of your concern, only that they are done correctly and completed on schedule.” She crossed her arms and settled her weight back on her right heel. “Unless you being a petaQ is to assist Captain Kirk in making my life miserable, what the hell is your issue with me?”
That seemed to take him back a moment. “What does Jim have to do with this?”
“Right,” she scoffed. She opened the box she had brought down and started checking the vials and things inside. She ignored McCoy as he moved around. As she repacked the box some time later, she prepared herself for another round. Since McCoy had already seen her doing some heavy lifting and no one else had come in yet, she grabbed the box and lifted it effortlessly to the stack that was headed for a supply room a hall over.
“Your DNA is completely human,” McCoy said suddenly.
Buffy frowned. “What did you expect it to come back as?”
“With your strength, I expected you were a half-blood.”
Some irritated noise emitted from the back of throat. She bit the side of her tongue and her cheek until the pain and metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. It helped to cool some of her need for violence. She started mentally cataloging the injuries she wanted to inflict on McCoy. When he was a bloodily mess, she imagined him naked and kissing her.
Buffy jumped back from when she was doing. Where in the hell did that come from?
88888888
“Bones!” Kirk greeted his friend enthusiastically.
“Jim,” McCoy replied.
“Why are you cooped up in here? I thought you had a dozen members of staff to get this place running.”
“I’ve been getting the crew data sorted. Going over everything.”
“And?”
“And I’ve been keeping an eye on Winters.”
Kirk’s expression froze slightly. “Why?”
“She seems to have trouble keeping track of time,” McCoy said. “If I don’t kick her out of here at the end of the day, she’ll just stay and work through the night.” He scoffed. “Happened twice last week that I know of.”
“She a hazard?”
“Doesn’t seem like. She lugs things around she shouldn’t be able to…but mostly she seems to have no sense of self-preservation.”
A strange choking noise came from Kirk. He cleared his throat, turning his head to hide a smile.
“Jim-”
Engineering to Medical, interrupted them.
“This is McCoy, go ahead.”
We have an emergency down here, the crewman said.
“Can you get him here?” McCoy asked.
No, a female voice said, I’ve got my hand in her chest. We need a stretcher and a doctor. Now.
McCoy shouted orders to his staff. Kirk and McCoy ran to the closest lift that would take them to engineering. They were pointed in the direction of the emergency by the various repair crews. McCoy pushed passed Kirk when they arrived.
Buffy had her hands in a brunette female crewman’s chest. Blood was everywhere. She did not even look up. “Crewman Simpson was hit by a low velocity projectile. It severed her aorta. I was able to reach in and cover the hole, but there is a secondary leak I can’t find without moving my finger off her aorta. I think it’s coming from behind the heart, possibly the pulmonary vein. I am keeping a slight pressure with the knuckle of my ring finger, it seems to be slowing the secondary bleed. Her heartrate is about 110.”
“The board is coming,” McCoy said, too in professional mode to question the strange turn of events. “I’m going to give you a sedative,” he told Simpson as he prepped an injection. “This will keep you calm and allow us to move you directly into surgery.”
Buffy took Simpson’s let hand in hers, keeping a tight grip. “You’ll be okay.”
Simpson nodded at them jerkily, her lips pressed white in an attempt to keep calm and quiet. McCoy was able to give the injection just as the board arrived.
“Roll her to the right,” Buffy ordered, keeping her hand secured in the woman’s chest. The board slipped in and they were standing, rushing for Medical.
88888888
Buffy scrubbed her fingers, hand, wrist, and forearm vigorously. Her skin was raw but she could still feel and see the blood on it.
“Where did you learn that?” McCoy’s voice was quiet but demanding.
“War,” Buffy said absently.
“What is that supposed to mean?” he stepped closer.
“Nothing.”
He took another step forward, his eyes were fixed on her profile. He glanced quickly at her hands only to find that they were covered in raw marks and welling blood.
“Damnit,” he snapped, grabbing each of her wrists. Both were slightly bleeding from the raw wounds she had given herself. “What the hell are you doing?”
She blinked at him, either not comprehending his question or his presence. She looked at her hands strangely. “I need to get the blood off.”
McCoy growled in annoyance. He kept her wrists apart until he got her to sit down. He grabbed a dermal-gel and started rubbing it along her damaged skin.
“I don’t scar,” she muttered.
“Yeah, that’s what this’ll prevent.”
“Waste of time.”
“Bones, Slayer,” Kirk greeted. “How is everything?”
“Crewman Simpson is just fine, as soon as she wakes I’ll transfer her to Starfleet medical.”
Kirk nodded. He watched the two as McCoy kept rubbing Buffy’s arms and hands.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know,” McCoy admitted. “But she saved that woman’s life.”
“Scotty and Keenser were able to determine the cause. The repairs should prevent a repeat.”
“What do you know about Winters?”
Kirk shrugged. “Less than I know about you, more than I know about Uhura.”
McCoy glared at him in annoyance. But Kirk paid no attention, he crouched down in front of the chair. Avoiding the gel covered portions of her arms, he gently grabbed her elbows. “Slayer? You still in there?”
She looked at him strangely, her eyes slightly unfocused.
“Buffy?” he said softly.
The word jolted her slightly and she looked down at him, blinking. “Jim?”
“You still with us?”
She nodded jerkily. “I had blood on my hands.”
“From the crewman, Bones says you saved her life.”
“Last time it didn’t work,” she sighed.
“The last time?” he asked.
“The Council…I struck the blow and then - then tried to save him…” Her hands shook. She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to dispatch the memory.
Kirk cringed, guessing her reference to her last day with the Klingons. He removed his hands and stood. She followed.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” McCoy asked.
“I’m a jack of all trades,” she replied, quietly. “How is Crewman Simpson?”
“She’ll be fine in a few weeks.”
“Good.” She looked at her hands in annoyance. “Did I do this?”
“Yeah,” McCoy said. “The cream should keep them from being infected. I can administer a mild pain reliever if you need it.”
“It’s not painful,” she replied.
“Take the rest of the day,” Kirk told her. “You can start again in the morning.”
“I don’t nee-”
“That’s an order, Lieutenant,” he cut her off.
“Fine,” she stalked out of Medical without a backwards glance.
88888888
“Lieutenant!” McCoy called.
Uhura paused and turn. “Doctor,” she greeted him with a polite smile.
“I was hoping I could ask for your linguistic skills,” he said.
“Of course,” she faced him.
“Do you have any idea what ‘pet-tak’ is?”
She frowned. “How was it used?”
“You’re being a pet-tak.”
Uhura considered. “PetaQ,” she bit off.
“That’s it.”
“It’s Klingon. Generally used as an insult. No specific meaning, mostly extrapolated based on context.”
“So anything from being called an idiot to an asshole,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“You’re welcome.”
88888888
Buffy took a deep breath through her nose, feeling the air fill her lungs. She held it a moment, locking her diaphragm, then exhaled through barely parted lips.
She was startled from her task by the door chime. Too relaxed to be irritated she stood and opened the door.
Before her stood Prime Spock with a bag.
“Spock,” she greeted in surprise.
“I apologize for disturbing you.”
“You’re not,” she replied, stepping aside to let him in.
He entered her apartment as she turned on the lights.
“You were meditating?” he asked, seeing the candles she had lit.
She looked at the clock. “For about an hour. I was seeking patience.”
“Did you find it?”
Buffy led him to the kitchen. “Do you know, or know of, Doctor Leonard McCoy?”
Spock nodded. “He held the same position as he does now.” He set the bag on the table and began to unload it.
She filled the kettle and set it to heat.
“I counted him as a friend until his death twenty years before my mission.”
Buffy looked at him in surprise. “McCoy? Is this one different?”
“From what I’ve seen, his personality is unaffected.” He opened the containers to reveal a common rice and bean dish. “The Captain informed me that you saved someone’s life today.”
“And then had something resembling a psychotic episode?” she guessed, setting plates and silverware down.
“He expressed… worry.”
Buffy pulled the kettle off and set her tea service up. Once the leaves were steeping, she set it on the table and poured two glasses of water. She sat, looking over the rice, beans, and vegetables. They served themselves in silence.
“What did you know about me? The other me?” she asked.
“That future is past,” he said. “It is not to be dwelt on.”
She smiled. “Knowledge is power.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “The only source of knowledge is experience.”
“Know thyself.” She quoted back. “Come Ambassador, you said I was part of a missing crew. Yet, you seem to know more about my secrets than if I was just a member of a lost ship.”
“Voyager has become legend.”
“You knew my true name and knew me by sight.”
“You entered Starfleet as Buffy Summers. Your name and picture were on every report of Voyager, along with one hundred others.”
“Was it common knowledge who and what I was?”
He sighed. “Your background was not common knowledge. However, your work was. You were the ship’s counselor and a member of senior staff.”
Buffy felt her eyebrow arch in disbelief. “Counselor? I’d be terrible.”
“You’re a hundred years older, perhaps that extra bit of time changed your mind.”
“And how bad am I at it?” she wondered.
“According to reports, including from your captain, you were an excellent counselor.”
She shook her head. “I can’t imagine.”
“The future has changed irrevocably,” Spock reminded her.
“The Vulcans,” she said softly.
“Yes, as the largest example.”
She nodded. Taking a bite, she refocused her thoughts. “I acted without thinking today. Made McCoy suspicious as hell.”
“Do you regret your actions?”
“Never,” she responded immediately. “I’d have never put someone at risk to protect my secret.”
Spock nodded once and they continued their meal in silence.
Once they had finished eating, Buffy poured them each a cup of tea and collected the plates. She sat down, wrapping her hands around her cup.
“Kirk informed me that you injured yourself.”
Buffy gestured to the splotchy spots on her forearms and hands, they looked like a histaminic reaction. “Slayer healing. They’ll be gone soon.” She sighed. “I had a moment of… there’s a memory, one I’m not quite past.”
“It is the reason for you meditation.”
“Not that it did me much good,” she admitted. “But it is not the worst thing in here.” She tapped her head. “All things fade in time.”
Spock made a sound of understanding. “They do.”
“I’m fine,” she told him. “How are things coming? Has the Vulcan Council decided on a planet?”
Title: The Future is Past
Author: hermione2be
Rating: PG/FR13/K+
Crossover: BtVS/Star Trek (2009)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of BtVS/Angel or Star Trek people, places, or ideas. This fiction is done simply for pleasure and I receive no profit.
Summary: Buffy spends time on Kirk's version of punishment duty.
Notes: Part 6 - Links Page
Seasons: Post-series/Post-Star Trek (2009)
Characters: Kirk, Spock Buffy, McCoy
Word Count: 2590
Buffy had to admit, when Captain Kirk and Commander Spock put their heads together, they were quite brutal. She had imagined herself cleaning things or stuck in a relay position during the repairs. But they had gone beyond that. She knew Kirk was still debating about her fate. She figured it was a better than simply turning her over to Starfleet…or whoever they would turn her over to for experimentation.
“Winters!” a male voice snapped.
Buffy took a deep breath and gritted her teeth into something resembling a smile. She turned from her position. “Yes, Doctor McCoy?”
“These crates need to be inventoried completely and compared against the order requests I made. Then repack them and store them in the medical storage bay, making sure to check them in so in an emergency we can find them,” he ordered. “Then all the ship’s med kits need to be inventoried and restocked and redistributed throughout the ship based on Starfleet regulations.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied. She waited until he had moved off and turned back to what she was doing. Muttering in Klingon under her breath, she considered Doctor Leonard McCoy. He was one of the older cadets of the last few years. And he was a crotchety man, even as a doctor. Unfortunately, the fight with Nero had catapulted him to Enterprise’s Chief Medical Officer.
Over the last three days, it had become clear Kirk and McCoy were friends. Kirk seemed to know what a slave driver the doctor was and had chosen this assignment as punishment. Perhaps, McCoy had been told that Buffy needed to be driven insane or even hinted that this was an unofficial reprimand. Or, more likely, McCoy was just a pain in the ass with some power.
Buffy finished what she was working on. Seeing the area was empty, she ignored protocol and manually lifted the five hundred pound crate. As soon as it was on the ground, she opened it. Various individual containers were packed inside. She scanned the barcode and counted the samples, then she cross-referenced it with the number ordered by McCoy.
And on and on it went. She kept occupied lifting and sorting things. It was nice to have a bit of time to work on her biceps. She had slipped into a rhythm, whiling away the time by trying to remember what the various medicines did.
So comfortable in the silence and exercise, she nearly dropped the bin she was moving from the top of a stack. “Dear Lord, woman, are you trying to kill yourself?!”
Buffy froze, the box held high in front of her. She sighed and slowly lowered it so she could see him. It looked like he was heading for a coronary, his face red with anger and a vein pulsing in his forehead. She smiled. “Is something wrong, Doctor?”
“You’re out of your little mind,” he told her, nearly yelling. “That is at least two hundred pounds of medicine or equipment.”
She lifted the container higher a moment then back down. “Closer to three hundred.”
His gob-smacked expression continued as Buffy set it down gently. Then he seemed to regain his senses. “Have you been here all night?”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Is it morning?”
Something in her tone set him off again. “Doing this work on no sleep and lifting things three times your weight, you must have a death wish.”
Buffy stiffened. It was true, in a way, had been for almost two hundred years. But something in his tone irked her. “I am more than capable of gaging my abilities.”
“But not time,” he snapped derisively.
“I have ten - no - nine days to complete the tasks assigned to me. When I do them is none of your concern, only that they are done correctly and completed on schedule.” She crossed her arms and settled her weight back on her right heel. “Unless you being a petaQ is to assist Captain Kirk in making my life miserable, what the hell is your issue with me?”
That seemed to take him back a moment. “What does Jim have to do with this?”
“Right,” she scoffed. She opened the box she had brought down and started checking the vials and things inside. She ignored McCoy as he moved around. As she repacked the box some time later, she prepared herself for another round. Since McCoy had already seen her doing some heavy lifting and no one else had come in yet, she grabbed the box and lifted it effortlessly to the stack that was headed for a supply room a hall over.
“Your DNA is completely human,” McCoy said suddenly.
Buffy frowned. “What did you expect it to come back as?”
“With your strength, I expected you were a half-blood.”
Some irritated noise emitted from the back of throat. She bit the side of her tongue and her cheek until the pain and metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. It helped to cool some of her need for violence. She started mentally cataloging the injuries she wanted to inflict on McCoy. When he was a bloodily mess, she imagined him naked and kissing her.
Buffy jumped back from when she was doing. Where in the hell did that come from?
88888888
“Bones!” Kirk greeted his friend enthusiastically.
“Jim,” McCoy replied.
“Why are you cooped up in here? I thought you had a dozen members of staff to get this place running.”
“I’ve been getting the crew data sorted. Going over everything.”
“And?”
“And I’ve been keeping an eye on Winters.”
Kirk’s expression froze slightly. “Why?”
“She seems to have trouble keeping track of time,” McCoy said. “If I don’t kick her out of here at the end of the day, she’ll just stay and work through the night.” He scoffed. “Happened twice last week that I know of.”
“She a hazard?”
“Doesn’t seem like. She lugs things around she shouldn’t be able to…but mostly she seems to have no sense of self-preservation.”
A strange choking noise came from Kirk. He cleared his throat, turning his head to hide a smile.
“Jim-”
Engineering to Medical, interrupted them.
“This is McCoy, go ahead.”
We have an emergency down here, the crewman said.
“Can you get him here?” McCoy asked.
No, a female voice said, I’ve got my hand in her chest. We need a stretcher and a doctor. Now.
McCoy shouted orders to his staff. Kirk and McCoy ran to the closest lift that would take them to engineering. They were pointed in the direction of the emergency by the various repair crews. McCoy pushed passed Kirk when they arrived.
Buffy had her hands in a brunette female crewman’s chest. Blood was everywhere. She did not even look up. “Crewman Simpson was hit by a low velocity projectile. It severed her aorta. I was able to reach in and cover the hole, but there is a secondary leak I can’t find without moving my finger off her aorta. I think it’s coming from behind the heart, possibly the pulmonary vein. I am keeping a slight pressure with the knuckle of my ring finger, it seems to be slowing the secondary bleed. Her heartrate is about 110.”
“The board is coming,” McCoy said, too in professional mode to question the strange turn of events. “I’m going to give you a sedative,” he told Simpson as he prepped an injection. “This will keep you calm and allow us to move you directly into surgery.”
Buffy took Simpson’s let hand in hers, keeping a tight grip. “You’ll be okay.”
Simpson nodded at them jerkily, her lips pressed white in an attempt to keep calm and quiet. McCoy was able to give the injection just as the board arrived.
“Roll her to the right,” Buffy ordered, keeping her hand secured in the woman’s chest. The board slipped in and they were standing, rushing for Medical.
88888888
Buffy scrubbed her fingers, hand, wrist, and forearm vigorously. Her skin was raw but she could still feel and see the blood on it.
“Where did you learn that?” McCoy’s voice was quiet but demanding.
“War,” Buffy said absently.
“What is that supposed to mean?” he stepped closer.
“Nothing.”
He took another step forward, his eyes were fixed on her profile. He glanced quickly at her hands only to find that they were covered in raw marks and welling blood.
“Damnit,” he snapped, grabbing each of her wrists. Both were slightly bleeding from the raw wounds she had given herself. “What the hell are you doing?”
She blinked at him, either not comprehending his question or his presence. She looked at her hands strangely. “I need to get the blood off.”
McCoy growled in annoyance. He kept her wrists apart until he got her to sit down. He grabbed a dermal-gel and started rubbing it along her damaged skin.
“I don’t scar,” she muttered.
“Yeah, that’s what this’ll prevent.”
“Waste of time.”
“Bones, Slayer,” Kirk greeted. “How is everything?”
“Crewman Simpson is just fine, as soon as she wakes I’ll transfer her to Starfleet medical.”
Kirk nodded. He watched the two as McCoy kept rubbing Buffy’s arms and hands.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know,” McCoy admitted. “But she saved that woman’s life.”
“Scotty and Keenser were able to determine the cause. The repairs should prevent a repeat.”
“What do you know about Winters?”
Kirk shrugged. “Less than I know about you, more than I know about Uhura.”
McCoy glared at him in annoyance. But Kirk paid no attention, he crouched down in front of the chair. Avoiding the gel covered portions of her arms, he gently grabbed her elbows. “Slayer? You still in there?”
She looked at him strangely, her eyes slightly unfocused.
“Buffy?” he said softly.
The word jolted her slightly and she looked down at him, blinking. “Jim?”
“You still with us?”
She nodded jerkily. “I had blood on my hands.”
“From the crewman, Bones says you saved her life.”
“Last time it didn’t work,” she sighed.
“The last time?” he asked.
“The Council…I struck the blow and then - then tried to save him…” Her hands shook. She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to dispatch the memory.
Kirk cringed, guessing her reference to her last day with the Klingons. He removed his hands and stood. She followed.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” McCoy asked.
“I’m a jack of all trades,” she replied, quietly. “How is Crewman Simpson?”
“She’ll be fine in a few weeks.”
“Good.” She looked at her hands in annoyance. “Did I do this?”
“Yeah,” McCoy said. “The cream should keep them from being infected. I can administer a mild pain reliever if you need it.”
“It’s not painful,” she replied.
“Take the rest of the day,” Kirk told her. “You can start again in the morning.”
“I don’t nee-”
“That’s an order, Lieutenant,” he cut her off.
“Fine,” she stalked out of Medical without a backwards glance.
88888888
“Lieutenant!” McCoy called.
Uhura paused and turn. “Doctor,” she greeted him with a polite smile.
“I was hoping I could ask for your linguistic skills,” he said.
“Of course,” she faced him.
“Do you have any idea what ‘pet-tak’ is?”
She frowned. “How was it used?”
“You’re being a pet-tak.”
Uhura considered. “PetaQ,” she bit off.
“That’s it.”
“It’s Klingon. Generally used as an insult. No specific meaning, mostly extrapolated based on context.”
“So anything from being called an idiot to an asshole,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“You’re welcome.”
88888888
Buffy took a deep breath through her nose, feeling the air fill her lungs. She held it a moment, locking her diaphragm, then exhaled through barely parted lips.
She was startled from her task by the door chime. Too relaxed to be irritated she stood and opened the door.
Before her stood Prime Spock with a bag.
“Spock,” she greeted in surprise.
“I apologize for disturbing you.”
“You’re not,” she replied, stepping aside to let him in.
He entered her apartment as she turned on the lights.
“You were meditating?” he asked, seeing the candles she had lit.
She looked at the clock. “For about an hour. I was seeking patience.”
“Did you find it?”
Buffy led him to the kitchen. “Do you know, or know of, Doctor Leonard McCoy?”
Spock nodded. “He held the same position as he does now.” He set the bag on the table and began to unload it.
She filled the kettle and set it to heat.
“I counted him as a friend until his death twenty years before my mission.”
Buffy looked at him in surprise. “McCoy? Is this one different?”
“From what I’ve seen, his personality is unaffected.” He opened the containers to reveal a common rice and bean dish. “The Captain informed me that you saved someone’s life today.”
“And then had something resembling a psychotic episode?” she guessed, setting plates and silverware down.
“He expressed… worry.”
Buffy pulled the kettle off and set her tea service up. Once the leaves were steeping, she set it on the table and poured two glasses of water. She sat, looking over the rice, beans, and vegetables. They served themselves in silence.
“What did you know about me? The other me?” she asked.
“That future is past,” he said. “It is not to be dwelt on.”
She smiled. “Knowledge is power.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “The only source of knowledge is experience.”
“Know thyself.” She quoted back. “Come Ambassador, you said I was part of a missing crew. Yet, you seem to know more about my secrets than if I was just a member of a lost ship.”
“Voyager has become legend.”
“You knew my true name and knew me by sight.”
“You entered Starfleet as Buffy Summers. Your name and picture were on every report of Voyager, along with one hundred others.”
“Was it common knowledge who and what I was?”
He sighed. “Your background was not common knowledge. However, your work was. You were the ship’s counselor and a member of senior staff.”
Buffy felt her eyebrow arch in disbelief. “Counselor? I’d be terrible.”
“You’re a hundred years older, perhaps that extra bit of time changed your mind.”
“And how bad am I at it?” she wondered.
“According to reports, including from your captain, you were an excellent counselor.”
She shook her head. “I can’t imagine.”
“The future has changed irrevocably,” Spock reminded her.
“The Vulcans,” she said softly.
“Yes, as the largest example.”
She nodded. Taking a bite, she refocused her thoughts. “I acted without thinking today. Made McCoy suspicious as hell.”
“Do you regret your actions?”
“Never,” she responded immediately. “I’d have never put someone at risk to protect my secret.”
Spock nodded once and they continued their meal in silence.
Once they had finished eating, Buffy poured them each a cup of tea and collected the plates. She sat down, wrapping her hands around her cup.
“Kirk informed me that you injured yourself.”
Buffy gestured to the splotchy spots on her forearms and hands, they looked like a histaminic reaction. “Slayer healing. They’ll be gone soon.” She sighed. “I had a moment of… there’s a memory, one I’m not quite past.”
“It is the reason for you meditation.”
“Not that it did me much good,” she admitted. “But it is not the worst thing in here.” She tapped her head. “All things fade in time.”
Spock made a sound of understanding. “They do.”
“I’m fine,” she told him. “How are things coming? Has the Vulcan Council decided on a planet?”