Title: The Trust of a Bonding

Author: Kim V. Wylie

Series: TOS

Rating: PG

Codes: McCoy/Other

The Trust Of A Bonding

by K.V. Wylie
1999

At her arrival he courteously shut off the computer terminal, though she had long since ceased to be polite to him. Forty-four seasons of a marriage consummated for duty's sake had eroded all but the most token of gestures. Still, he was her husband. Complete possession of a property meant something to her, enough to give her dark eyes an unVulcan flash as she regarded the papers on his desk.

"Your plans are unchanged, Husband?"

"This is for the good of many," he replied.

"He is Human. He does not know our world."

"I will tell him all I know. The possibility that he can help is not minimal, Sah'Sheer. He is gifted." He sensed her disdain through their bond and flinched.

She crossed the room to a window where the wind blew endless sand patterns on the glass. "Many would say you act in desperation."

"Do many say that? Thine own mother approves."

She whirled around. "I will not stay to witness this!"

Several thoughts went through his mind. Not a threat, for he would not seek her for four seasons. Not an ultimatum for he had long decided on this.

"You must do as you choose," he sat and averted his eyes, to see no offence, to give none.

She left him alone in his darkening room. It was not until evening, when he lay down in an empty bed - for not even Vulcans prefer to sleep alone - that he allowed the full consideration of her absence to affect him. It affected him, oddly, not at all.

---

Leonard McCoy trudged into his office and fell into his chair. It had been a long, fruitless day, more useless than usual. He'd just finished treating a cadet who had, of all things, burned his lips on an electron wrench. The patient before that one had discovered a new way of entering a top-hatch shuttle - by plummeting into it from a catwalk overhead.

He leaned his elbows onto his desk, which knocked over a rather tall stack of tapes.

"It never ends," he muttered, unable to find a place to rest his head.

The lab door swished open. McCoy heard voices, a casual tone and a lower, precise voice. He stilled in the chair.

"I'm not here," he whispered, trying to send the comment telepathically. If Vulcans could send mental pages of technical journals through space and time, he should be able to manage three words over six feet.

It didn't work. His office door opened and Spock entered, followed by James Kirk.

"Look, I'm not -" he started but was interrupted by the Vulcan.

"Medical analyses of specimens 133D through 146A are still pending, Doctor. As well, your Quality and Safety Assessments are 43.7 hours overdue. My evaluations cannot be completed until full information from your Medical Department has been forwarded. Such inefficiency -"

"I'm not here."

The Vulcan eyed him. "When will the overdue information be available?"

"I'm not here!" McCoy repeated. "This is an empty chair. You don't see me. I'm anywhere else but I'm not here right now."

Spock glanced at Kirk but the Captain was blandly inspecting the floor.

"Get a tricorder," McCoy said, "and if I actually register, I'll discuss the overdue reports with you. However," the doctor closed his eyes. "I can't see a thing myself. I don't even think the lights are on in here."

"They are certainly not on somewhere," Spock said as he deposited more tapes on McCoy's desk.

"He'll get the tricorder," Kirk said after the Vulcan had left.

"If for no other reason than to irritate me," McCoy grumbled.

"I've been waiting on some of your reports too, Bones."

"How do you know they're my reports? Ever since Starfleet started this diversification process, my job description's gone through a chopping block. I've got seven `counsellors' suddenly using my desk, ready to argue every detail of everything I do. I do six page reports only to find they're not part of my job anymore. Half the stuff I've done lately had been a duplication of someone else's work. The other half, well, I didn't know I was still supposed to do."

Kirk smiled. "I thought you always complained that you were overworked."

McCoy scowled. "You know the old phrase about too many cooks. Didn't Starfleet toy with the idea of splitting up my job before?"

"It was phasing out just as I received command of the Enterprise," Kirk said. "I remember that there was an on-board psychiatrist for a couple of months. Every time we went to alert status, she'd haunt the bridge, observing `crew reactions to elevated stress'."

"Now they call it Personalized Adaptation and Integration in Closed-Ship Environments," McCoy said. "Whatever the hell that means."

"The new crewmembers are getting younger. Starfleet admissions policy is changing. I think they're trying to balance individual strengths and abilities right from day one," Kirk said. "It's not a bad idea, Bones. I can think of a few problems that could have been avoided over the years with this policy."

"Thanks," McCoy retorted. "Now I even feel useful in retrospect. Was that your point in stopping here today? To cheer me up?"

"Actually, Bones, I've still got that damn headache."

McCoy frowned then picked up a small scanner.

"Bones," Kirk started.

"We've been on a milk run for six weeks. You have nothing to do. How can you possibly have a headache?"

"I just got new orders. We've been diverted to Vulcan."

"So?"

"It's the only place we'll get any R&R for the next three months."

"I may just get a headache. Vulcan's about as exciting as an ant farm," McCoy handed Kirk a couple of pills.

"I suppose I should take this opportunity to catch up on my sleep," Kirk sighed tiredly.

"Excuse me, Jim, but isn't that what you have been doing?"

Kirk stood. "Of course this milk run should also give you a chance to get caught up on all those back reports, RIGHT?"

"They're practically on your desk," McCoy said as he closed his eyes and laid his head down on this arms. "You know paperwork is my endless joy."

---

The bridge was boringly quiet. Kirk sat in the command chair and contemplated the main screen. He was hard-pressed to find any evidence of movement. The stars seemed absolutely still.

He wasn't sure he liked training voyages, the green runs, the monotonous drilling, the endlessly-repeated routines, constant inspections of nervous cadets and their departments. They were allowed light science duties (but if they had to check out one more pulsar, he was going to turn the ship's phasers on it). Their flight path was locked in and no deviations were allowed. The ceiling on speed was warp three. (Warp three point one would require Kirk writing an interminable explanation.) And those thousand department briefings, all of which Kirk was expected to attend, made him itch for even a Klingon ship to fall out of the sky.

He had to admit, though, he was one of the proponents of hands-on training. The cadets on board had been hand-picked, only those supposedly capable of extended stress and demands of Starship duty, the highest notation possible on Academy records. Still, it was stifling. Kirk wasn't used to sitting on his...seat, knowing the high point of his day would be an uninterrupted lunch.

Spock came onto the bridge followed by a string of cadets and one of the new counsellors, a tall women wearing medical blue.

Kirk watched the group gather around the science station, hushed under the tones of the Vulcan's low voice. None of them even dared fidget. Kirk could imagine their hearts palpitating even as he watched. The counsellor stood apart and watched without appearing to watch.

Eyeing them, Kirk sympathized with McCoy's lament of feeling redundant. The medical section bombardment had ripped McCoy's job description into hamster litter. On the other hand these training runs usually resulted in one or two cadets showing up in tears in the Captain's quarters with a guilty resignation and an apology delivered in a shaky voice. Kirk had come to expect these scenes. But this run there had been none. No tearful ensigns. No resignations. No apologies. These counsellors were doing something right. Kirk knew this was no reflection on McCoy, who simply did not have the time to follow all these groups of cadets around ship. Nor had it ever been expected of him to do so. Still, it must be disheartening to have these seven counsellors waltz in and just take over. Kirk made a mental note to spend some time trying to cheer McCoy up.

The Vulcan moved to the weapons console and the group followed him frantically. Kirk noticed Uhura and Sulu exchange sympathetic smiles.

"Status, Mr. Sulu," Kirk asked.

"Seventeen hours to Vulcan, Captain."

Kirk nodded his thanks as he rose. He circled the bridge, trying to look interested at the routine readouts. Finally, at the turbo-lift, he said, "Uhura, you have the con. I'll be...at lunch."

She smiled as he added, "Be sure to interrupt me for any reason."

---

"I see you brought a tricorder," McCoy said as Spock entered sickbay.

"Your reports are now fifty-one point two six hours overdue, doctor."

"Everything's all done. I left them on my desk. Help yourself." McCoy strode out of the room, leaving the Vulcan to ponder ten stacks of unlabelled tapes sitting twenty-eight deep in a long row.

---

"Orbit attained, Captain," said Sulu.

"Vulcan acknowledges our flight path and welcomes our ship," Uhura added.

"Fine. Shore Leave is now officially declared," Kirk said, noting the trainees' heads all perking up. "This is wonderful. Vulcan has no bars, no theatres, no parks, no shopping districts, no shade, no shows, and no single people. Let the fun begin." He caught Spock's oddly-chagrined look.

"I must differ with your assessment, Captain," the Vulcan said. "There is a tourist bar in the capital city."

"Which serves only altair water," Kirk cut in.

"While I admit there are no theatres such as on earth, there are galleries and music halls."

"If you can call one hundred kissars music," Kirk added with a smile. An eyebrow rose. Kirk was beginning to understand why McCoy baited Spock so much.

"We do have open spaces which would qualify as park-land since they are protected from development."

"No trees. All sand and wind."

"There are many market places."

"They sell fruits. Just fruits."

"However, shade is rather lacking," Spock finished.

"Your planet's two trees do try," came McCoy's voice as he stepped off the turbo-lift. He looked over at the Captain. "Your announcement of shore leave sent my interns running like hell for the transporter room, poor buggars. Wait 'til they feel the heat of midday Vulcan."

"It isn't that bad, Bones," Kirk said, catching Spock's dour expression. "After all, there's a bar in Shi'Kaver."

"Such as it is," McCoy grumbled.

Uhura's board beeped. She turned to McCoy. "Doctor, I have a surface call for you from the Shi'Kaver Teaching Medical Facility."

McCoy looked surprised. "I don't know anyone there."

"Coming on visual," Uhura said.

The main screen cleared to show a tall male standing beside a desk. He had the darkest eyes Kirk had ever seen on a Vulcan.

"Captain Kirk, my acknowledgement," he said coldly.

"Can I help you?" Kirk asked.

"I would speak with your physician, Dr. Leonard McCoy."

"I'm Dr. McCoy," the doctor stepped forward.

"I am V'Rhsal. I have read your paper on Movement Reactive Disorders, Stardate 8309.2. It was most interesting."

"Thank you," McCoy said in a puzzled voice.

"Have you continued research in this area since that paper?"

McCoy hesitated. "Um...why do you wish to know? Do I know of you?"

"We have never met, Dr. Leonard McCoy, but I have been following your research on movement disorders for six point nine
years. I am a bio-engineer and would set up a convenient time to speak with you."

"Oh," McCoy said.

V'Rhsal waited for a moment, but when the doctor said nothing more, he continued, "I am in my office at this time, Dr. Leonard McCoy. Will your schedule permit a meeting now?"

"I was just going on leave."

"Perhaps tomorrow?"

McCoy breathed out. "Give your co-ordinates to our transporter room and I'll be right down."

V'Rhsal nodded and signed off without another word.

McCoy glanced at Spock. "Do you know who the hell he is?"

"Kór V'Rhsal is a bio-engineer, doctor. He designed the neuroscanner which you use in your examination room."

"You mean, that big thing over the table?" McCoy questioned. "It says Kabu-Kabu at the back."

"Nevertheless, it is Kór V'Rhsal's design. His theories form the basis of much of your neuroplasmic equipment."

McCoy sighed tiredly. "I only use the stuff. I don't know where it comes from. As for that paper he mentioned, I'm not sure I remember which one it is."

"I read it," Spock said. "You wrote it after our experiences with he Kelvan neural field projector."

"Oh, THAT one," McCoy shrugged.

"I must confess I did not find it to be one of your better papers," Spock said "Your conclusions were not entirely supported by
your evidence and your opening was vague."

McCoy's expression hardened but his voice was quiet. "Thank you, Mr. Spock." He disappeared into the turbo-lift.

"Curious," Spock said. "I would be most honoured to speak with K'or V'Rhsal. He is a brilliant scientist."

"Maybe you should join Bones down there, to give him a little moral support," Kirk said with a smile.

---

V'Rhsal's office was at the end of the longest corridor McCoy had ever walked. "I didn't feel like hiking," he grumbled as he trudged.

He had dug out the said paper and quickly read it before beaming down and he had to agree with Spock. He'd written it with the barest attention, hoping to get away with his report for Kirk's log and his own medical report at the same time. He'd still been numb from Natira when they'd met up with the Kelvans.

He came to V'Rhsal's door and had raised his hand to knock when the door snapped open.

"How the hell do they manage to do that every time?" he thought to himself as he entered.

His next thought was that V'Rhsal on the screen was nothing to V'Rhsal in the flesh. McCoy stepped in and looked up.
However, he had once stood up to T'Pau. One bio-engineer was not going to faze him.

Nice to meet you, Mr. V'Rhsal," he said quickly.

The Vulcan indicated a chair. "You are generous to attend here, Dr. Leonard McCoy," he said in earth English.

The chair had a large cushion but it was still like sitting on a rock. McCoy tried to get comfortable, then gave up.

V'Rhsal clasped his hands behind his back. "Is it customary for humans to ingest liquids during a meeting?"

"It's ok. I've tasted the `liquids' on this planet."

The Vulcan sat as well. "As I stated seven point three minutes previously, I have read your paper on Movement Reactive Disorders."

"Which is why I'm surprised to be here," McCoy admitted.

V'Rhsal regarded the doctor curiously.

"It wasn't one of my better papers," McCoy added.

"Have you revised your theory?"

"No. I haven't really um..." McCoy looked into the expressionless eyes and said, "No."

V'Rhsal leaned forward on his desk. "You specified the working mechanism of the Kelvan device but, unfortunately, I have not been able to duplicate the design."

"I could get the design for you, if that's all you want."

"The design is part of it," V'Rhsal said. "Your ending conclusion stated that the reverse situation of the neural field was possible."

I believe that if normally healthy muscle function can be affected by a neural field, then normally paralysed or tetansed muscle should, in theory, respond to a strong neural field, " McCoy said. "However, in theory, the effect would last only as long as the neural field operated. I doubt there would be any permanent change in the muscle tissue."

V'Rhsal thought for a moment, then said, "Could cortical brain function revision with simultaneous neural field operation sustain permanent change?"

"What do you mean by brain function revision?"

V'Rhsal chose his words carefully. "If, perhaps, you believed or were led to believe that the neural field's effects were of a healing nature, could there be permanent change in the muscle tissue?"

McCoy eyed the Vulcan. "Mind over matter?"

"Pardon?"

"Explain it to me again. This is an odd theory coming from a Vulcan."

"Doctor Leonard McCoy, it is your theory. Tell me, please. If a small neural field was created, one that allowed movement in a paralysed muscle but sporadically, over a lengthened duration of time, is it possible that brain function, as it adjusts to seeing in evidence such prolonged muscle movement, could affect or even complete the healing process?"

"Seeing is believing," McCoy said. "Well, I can't discount it. I've seen people do things considered medically impossible simply because they believed they could do them. But I'm afraid it doesn't happen too often."

"It does not...happen at all on this planet," V'Rhsal said. "We are a logical people. We do not question accepted reality. If a muscle has suffered in medical opinion permanent damage, we will not attempt further healing. I have heard that some humans go beyond what their doctors thought possible. You wrote papers of seventeen such cases you had been personally involved with. You suspected that belief in being healed led the way to physical healing. You also suspected, but could not prove, that adult brain tissue can, unlike medical theory, actually repair itself under proper conditions."

"There could be many factors besides simple belief. What is this all leading to?"

V'Rhsal was quiet for a moment, his black eyes focused on a point somewhere beyond McCoy's chair. At length, he continued, "Do you know of the Vulcan disease Khlabar?"

McCoy thought for a second. "Um, affects spinal cord, the cerebellum. Certain nerve endings, mainly those that respond to 6-hydroseron. A very painful and slow progression of nerve degeneration. Some personality changes too if I recall."

"You are correct," V'Rhsal said. "Khlabar affects twenty percent of Vulcans in their second century and that percentage is increasing. It can progress very slowly with only symptomatic activity for some time but, most often, onset is rapid. Those who suffer become unable to walk or co-ordinate their hands. Speech can be affected as well as short-term memory. We have palliative measures, nothing more. Prognosis is always death."

McCoy eyed V'Rhsal. "This disease has been around for two centuries."

"And we have searched for a cure for two hundred years in vain."

"Vulcan research has a tendency to be very thorough."

"But logical," V'Rhsal said. "We cannot go beyond our logic. Your papers indicate a unique creativity. You do not seem bound by logic."

McCoy tried to decide whether or not he'd been insulted. "Mr. V'Rhsal, a neural field would be another palliative measure. It could only slow down degeneration."

"It should be possible to reverse progression, if I understand your paper correctly."

"Now wait a minute. I wrote--"

"You wrote about a neural field's effects overcoming central nervous system impulses, an outside stimulation bypassing the body's own internal messages. Prolonged outside stimulation could, in your theory, permanently affect central nervous system messages."

"The term is could," McCoy emphasized.

"Is there reason to discount the possibility?"

"Logic suggests..." McCoy trailed off at a flash in V'Rhsal's eyes.

"You are correct, Dr. Leonard McCoy. It is not logical."

McCoy tapped the top of the desk. "Mr. V'Rhsal, since you already understand this illogical premise, you have the capabilities
to carry this through. I'm confused as to why you've asked me here."

"I have no misconception about my capabilities. If I attempt to progress this theory alone, or in partnership with another Vulcan, probability is ninety three point seven percent that I will fail. No other Vulcan of my association can understand the 'logic' of this theory."

"Gee, that's kind of hard to believe," McCoy said with a bland face.

V'Rhsal looked hard at McCoy. "I am aware of your accomplishments and capabilities. You understand the Kelvan neural field and have felt it's effects and you are a medical doctor with knowledge of Khlabar. I can build whatever sort of neural field you would wish. In partnership, I believe we could accomplish an objective."

"What objective? Cure?"

V'Rhsal nodded, oblivious to McCoy's scepticism. "Research facilities here are expansive, Dr. Leonard McCoy. As well, I have a laboratory in my home which I would adapt or expand in any way you deem necessary. Vulcan Science Academy will advance funding for a three year duration."

"Take their money. I think you can do this on your own," McCoy said.

"I was not clear. The Science Academy will advance the money only to you."

At McCoy's silence, V'Rhsal continued, "You are a physician. I am an engineer. Logically, we are research-compatible."

McCoy opened his mouth, then realized he had nothing to say and closed it again.

"I do not know how humans understand time. Is a three year duration prolonged for you? If you have other commitments, there is no reason for you not to fulfil them as well. We can adjust our schedules. What you will start for me, I can sustain until you return. Our partnership has a success probability of eighty-nine point nine percent of either concluding in a cure or some positive reversal technique."

"This is important to you personally, isn't it?" McCoy asked abruptly. "Going to the Academy with such an entirely human theory and nothing else seems an extreme act."

V'Rhsal's voice and face were toneless. "He who sired me died from Khlabar three seasons past. My teacher died last year and my brother-kin shows symptoms. In Shi'Kaver, many suffer, and they come here to this hospital to die."

McCoy looked down at the carpet. Three years were, well, three years.

V'Rhsal came around the desk. "Do you wish time to answer, Dr. Leonard McCoy?"

McCoy said something that surprised him very much. "No. I can answer you now. I would be honoured to work with you on this."

CHAPTER TWO

<P

McCoy gingerly picked up a sleek, black silver tube and frankly, admired it. It was a fine-point sub-laser designed for work in cortical tissue. A luxury item even for a Starship. He'd never dreamed of ever seeing one or even holding one so freely. They were exceedingly fragile and expensive instruments.

He set it down carefully and turned to face V'Rhsal, who had been watching him explore the lab.

"Tell me what you need, Dr. Leonard McCoy. and I will get it for you."

McCoy tried not to laugh. "I can't think of anything you don't have. My God, you've got things down I've never imagined."

It still felt unreal. They had gone to the Academy and signed the papers for the funding. McCoy had toured the hospital and was now in V'Rhsal's laboratory, a huge underground series of rooms below his house. The sheer variety of V'Rhsal's equipment astounded McCoy. He couldn't begin to guess at what half of these things were around him. Upon closer inspection, McCoy realized that much of the equipment down here were prototypes and that no one, except their builder, had seen them either. The Vulcan was clearly not one to rest on his previous laurels.

"Tell me, what made you decide to get into this line of work?"

V'Rhsal seemed taken aback. "I do not know." He handed McCoy a couple of tapes. "I have made notes. Being non-medically trained, I am unable to advance your theory. Perhaps you would review. Also, I will obtain a desk here for you, and there is a bedroom upstairs for your living quarters."

"I thought I'd look for an apartment near the hospital," McCoy said, and thought, Good Lord. I haven't even told Jim yet!
You're crazy, doctor, though this place is a dream come true. Things in here he'd fantasized about.

"Would it not be more convenient to stay here?" V'Rhsal asked.

"It's your home."

"I live here, as does my wife."

"That settles it. Women don't like having me underfoot, I know."

"She has vacated for the three year duration."

McCoy frowned. "Why?"

"For us to work together effectively my wife must vacate the home. I thought you understood, Dr. Leonard McCoy. You have had extended contact with Vulcans."

"One dubious Vulcan and I'm afraid you'll still have to explain this to me."

V'Rhsal sat down. "You have noticed that very few Vulcan-Human teams can sustain long-term partnership."

McCoy shrugged. "I know of only three such teams. I thought it was a matter of choice."

"It is not choice as much as biology. Vulcan and human brains process differently. There are chemical and electrical incompatibilities between the two thought systems. For example, Vulcans generally sustain activity over a long period of time, without sleep or food, in order to accomplish a goal. This is most productive. Humans need...breaks in the activity in order to maintain efficiency. Another example would be--"

"What does this have to do with your wife?" McCoy cut in.

"For us to be able to work compatibly and eliminate the risk of fruitless endeavor and duplication, we will undergo mind-meld."

McCoy felt the ground leave his feet.

"We will then be able to interchange and build upon information easily and quickly. A meld will enable us to set up a mutual rhythm or cycle of work and rest periods."

McCoy's ears filled with pounding blood.

"Hence our three year project does not have to substantially interfere with your other commitments. While I intend to devote my time fully to this, you will have the opportunity to leave and return without our losing access to one another. We will always have some contact. This has been done successfully before."

McCoy swallowed. "And your wife?"

"She will be on a Vulcan exploration ship. She is a geologist."

"But, doesn't she mind? Doesn't she have a bond with you?"

"We severed it," V'Rhsal said without a trace of emotion. "It is a temporary separation. We have been bond for forty-four seasons. We need not return to each other for four years." This last came out rather quietly. "I will not explain to you why that is so."

"I already know," McCoy said.

V'Rhsal looked at him. "I see. Then, perhaps, you understand why we had to sever the bond."

"No, sorry, I don't."

"To meld while she was bond to me would affect you, Dr. Leonard McCoy. It would impair our meld. You would have contact not only with me but with her as well. You and I would not be able to adjust to one another as her presence would affect us. Our communications within each other would be distorted by her thoughts and experiences. Our separation is temporary and possible benefits certainly outweigh any other variables. We have no children. There is no reason against the separation."

McCoy stared back, aghast.

V'Rhsal pulled up a chair and sat in front of the doctor. "And you would also have to separate from sexual and emotional encounters with your wife as their effects would certainly reach me through you. The reaction on me would be...disturbing."

"I have no wife."

"Then there should be no problem."

"There IS a problem. Are you saying that I would have to be celibate for THREE YEARS?"

V'Rhsal sat back. "Is three years too long for you to abstain?"

"I don't...I mean...well, SURE, it's nothing to you, going seven years but..." McCoy fumbled.

"Vulcans do not abstain entirely and my cycle is eight years, not seven."

McCoy got up and paced the room. "Three years! That's one thousand and sixty-eight days! Good Lord, I'll be fifty-five!
What about, once in a while, could I even just--"

"No," V'Rhsal said quickly.

A hologram on the table caught McCoy's eye. The man in the picture was older but the features were V'Rhsal's.

"He who was my father," V'Rhsal said, as if reading McCoy's thoughts. Of course he would be doing so soon enough, McCoy thought glumly.

"It was taken before we knew he was dying."

McCoy, surprised at the lack of feeling in the remark, looked up and caught a fleeting moment of sadness in the dark eyes.

"I'm sorry," McCoy said. "My father was very sick too before he died." He returned to where the Vulcan was.

"Do what is necessary," McCoy said softly.

"Art thou prepared?"

McCoy sat, knowing it would be better to stay off his feet. "What do I do?"

V'Rhsal moved his chair closer. "Simply answer. Art thou prepared?"

McCoy met the dark eyes. "Yes."

He closed his eyes as the long fingers touched his temples. He could hear the Vulcan's steady breathing and the gusts of wind-blown sand outside.

It felt cold at first. A tendril probed down through his conscious mind, like a dangling icy thread. His first impression of the Vulcan had been correct. His own mind was like water lapping against the edges of the Vulcan's mental glacier.

V'Rhsal's voice thudded through the ice. "Art thou ready?"

"...yes..."

McCoy submerged. He gulped a chilled, green spasm of sea water as he fell under the surface of his own mind but the surface and waters were also the Vulcan's mind. There was no longer any ice; all was water. He felt the sensation of movement, yet his feet were still on the floor. He heard the heavy throb of the cold water, and still the sand raged outside the window. McCoy's sensation was akin to having his mouth open underwater, having it all rush down his throat and into his lungs. He started to gag and, in his mind, came the Vulcan's voice, "Calm thyself and open to me."

He floated into the green and took a deep breath in.

McCoy had felt the mind meld before with Spock. Now he realized that Spock had only skimmed the barest surface. To open to V'Rhsal fully was to see all that he was run and burst to the surface, fully exposed and naked. The water pulled at him. He drifted in an endless ebb of tide.

The Vulcan also lay bare and open. McCoy turned and saw all, saw a young V'Rhsal, growing into a man, then saw his own young self, his life flowing by in the water. He caught a glimpse of his daughter's birth, then his divorce came and went. Places, people, Miri, Gem, Eileen, Natira, a walk with a six-foot rabbit in a deep green forest. And he saw what was not his. Classrooms, laboratories, dark-swept sand and hot mountains, a young girl growing and the frenzy that drew a young Vulcan male to her. McCoy tasted the bitter bloodlust, and then he saw one Vulcan so clear he thought he could touch him. V'Rhsal said "My teacher." A young Vulcan was the teacher, soon ravaged by the pain of the disease.

"Can thee accept me?"

McCoy laughed acridly. "Look at all I have done."

He felt the Vulcan again but he was warm now, the water serenity and the Vulcan close. "I see. Thou art Human. I art Vulcan. Neither better. Neither worse. One to the other."

McCoy felt himself smile. Felt the Vulcan's reaction to it, to something V'Rhsal could neither do nor understand on his own.

They drew apart. McCoy sat private in his own thoughts again, listening to the Vulcan breathing, but he also felt a strange tension. His sense of direction was wrong. A warm pressure was on his chest and thighs. He broke the surface of the water and opened his eyes.

V'Rhsal's cheek lay against his own. The Vulcan's chest rose and fell against his and the heat of the Vulcan's skin burned through his clothes. Stranger too was the tension he hadn't identified earlier, now clear and unnerving. He straddled the Vulcan and there were certain areas pressed very closely together.

He said haltingly, "I've experienced the mind meld before. It was never like this."

The Vulcan pulled slowly away as if a quick movement would snap the fragile thread between them. When the physical contact was broken, McCoy felt inward and found the Vulcan's presence, changed from a glacier to an ocean.

V'Rhsal met McCoy's eyes. "You understand pain, Leonard. I was not wrong in this choice. I promise you. If you...dream it up, I will build it for you."

---

Vulcan mornings were hotter than overloaded warp engines. James Kirk wiped the sweat from the back of his neck as he opened his communicator. "Enterprise, this is the Captain. Is Mr. Spock on board?"

"Yes, Captain. Do you wish to speak with him?"

"No, Johnston. How's the crew recall going?"

"Complement is nearly complete, Captain."

"Are you still sending signals every ten minutes through Dr. McCoy's communicator?"

"Dr. McCoy beamed up an hour ago."

Kirk blinked, then said, "And did he say why he failed to respond to his communicator signal?"

"I didn't speak with him. I was informed of his beam--up by transporter personnel. Captain, you have a priority three message here from Vulcan Academy regarding crew replacement."

Kirk frowned. "What crew replacement?"

"Medical section, sir. The rest of the message is coded to your eyes only."

"McCoy never said anything to me."

"Sorry, Captain. That's all I have. Do you wish to speak with Dr. McCoy?"

"No, I'll be up soon anyway. Kirk out."

---

Leonard McCoy tapped the delete button. His computer terminal hummed, then said, "Accessing marked files, Dr. McCoy. Do you wish to delete marked files?"

"Yes," he said.

The computer hummed again. "Dr. McCoy, are you sure you wish to delete marked files?"

"Yes!" McCoy repeated.

The screen flashed red. "Warning! All marked files will be unrecoverable. Press escape to cancel delete request. Any verbal command will complete erasure from memory."

"Computer, delete those damned files now or I'll set fire to your motherboard!"

The computer clicked, then said pleasantly, "Deletion complete, Dr. McCoy. Do wish an activity log printed?"

"No, I think I'll remember that I did this."

His office door opened. McCoy heard the inner workings of the door mechanism, something he'd never picked up before. He heard the regular breathing, the deeper fill of a higher lung capacity, and, without turning, said, "Spock, long time no see. I'm sure I gave you every overdue report."

The Vulcan came around to the front of the desk. "I will refrain from commenting on that, doctor. I need your permission to access Medical data banks for approximately one point three seven eight hours."

"All right. I'll log it." McCoy felt the Vulcan's steady gaze on him. He wondered if the difference he felt inside showed outside.

"Spock, I'll bet you're really here because you've always had a secret desire to meet V'Rhsal and you're curious what the hell someone like that would want with someone like me."

"I admit that I have never met him," Spock said. "As for the rest, I would not pry."

"Do you want to meet him? I happen to know that he's free day after tomorrow."

"I have not asked to meet him, doctor."

"I'm inviting, Say fourteen hundred hours."

Spock's eyebrow rose. "Doctor, I--..."

"Spock, I'm inviting you to have some of that nasty Vulcan tea with ME. And if V'Rhsal just happens to be around, so be it. Does that satisfy your sense of propriety?"

"I would be honoured to have tea with you, doctor," Spock said so solemnly that McCoy had to work hard to keep from laughing. "Is he due to come aboard ship?"

"No, I'll have to give you an address." McCoy shut off his computer terminal. "This is just my way of showing you that I have no hard feelings over that lovely little comment you made yesterday."

"As I have, of course, overlooked your overdue reports being somewhere in the midst of two hundred and eighty unlabelled tapes."

"Spock, it constantly amazes me how much we understand each other." McCoy rose "Is Jim on the bridge?"

"I believe the Captain is in his quarters."

"I guess he's resting up after that date he had with that trainee yesterday," McCoy said, but the joke went flat. He met the Vulcan's dark eyes and saw that he hadn't kept this secret at all, that Spock had somehow noticed the difference, and figured it out. "I'm going to be gone for at least a year, right off. Maybe longer."

"But what a year it will be," Spock said gently.

McCoy started to smile. "All this Vulcan stuff jumbled up in my head and I can still walk and chew gum at the same time. Amazing." He turned towards the door. "Keep Jim from doing anything stupid, ok?"

"How?"

McCoy grinned. "See ya for tea, Spock. 1404 Khat'vere. Big black house."

McCoy went down the hall to the turbo-lift. He'd never noticed all the signs on the walls before, the contrasts and the deepness of the reds, the flecks in the blues, the long scratch on an intercom panel that tapered into little ridges. The engines had a rhythm that he could feel in the very walls, like a human's pulse. The feel and sound of these hulls were more familiar to him anything else.

Kirk answered his door at the first buzz. "Bones! Where in God's name have you been? Didn't you hear your communicator?"

"When?" McCoy asked.

"Last night. This morning. Didn't they teach you at the Academy? When you hear Mr. Whistle, you take out Mr. Communicator and flip the grid open."

"Jim...." McCoy frowned and the tone was such that Kirk lost his humour.

"Bones, the point is, we could have had someone sick or whatever."

"I didn't hear anything. I'm sorry. And, in case you hadn't noticed, we now have seventeen doctors on board this ship."
McCoy took a breath, and said, "I'm requesting a Leave of Absence, effective immediately. I can be replaced with a physician from the Vulcan Medical Academy, Starfleet trained."

"Is this what that coded message was about?" Kirk sat down, puzzled. There was a subtle difference about the doctor, barely perceptible. "Is something wrong, Bones?"

"I've been offered a research position. It's quite lucrative."

"Does it have anything to do with that call you got yesterday from that, uh, engineer, Versal or something?"

"V'Rhsal," McCoy said. "We've decided to partner." In more ways that I imagined, the doctor added to himself.

"You? With a Vulcan? I thought you complained they never ate, never slept, never smiled, didn't know how to have a good time."

"This is something I can't pass up." McCoy finally sat down himself. "I've cleared my things and M'Benga's bumped up to Chief Medical Officer. Maybe he can figure out what the C.M.O.'s allowed to do now." McCoy looked up. "I didn't mean to surprise you like this. It happened quickly from my point of view too."

Kirk caught the determined look in McCoy's eyes, but there was something else, something unfamiliar that he'd never seen before. "I...don't know what to say, Bones."

"Come down for tea with Spock day after tomorrow. Wait until you see this lab, Jim. It's mind-boggling. And V'Rhsal isn't so bad. I suppose I could get used to him. After all, I've had lots of practice with Spock's little ways."

"Are you leaving today?"

"Right now," McCoy rose. "I've got a lot to do. It's going to be a busy year. Well, three years actually."

"Three years?" Kirk repeated quietly.

"I'll be on Vulcan for one year, then off and on for two more. Come on, Jim. Wish me luck."

Kirk took a few minutes before he was able to rise. He shook McCoy's hand and said, "Well, Leonard...good luck."

CHAPTER THREE

p>

Leonard McCoy sat with his chair tilted back against the frame of the nursing station doorway. The Head Nurse was on a meal break and he took the opportunity to review her charts. They confirmed what V'Rhsal had told him. Whether it took six months or six years, those with Khlabar died. The cruel part was, their minds were aware of this to the end.

After an hour, flashing green cursors seemed to be everywhere. McCoy leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Ech'tel san e kor?"

He jumped. A small woman stood behind him, hunched unsteadily over a walking brace. Her face showed no emotion and no trace of the illness that was clearly wracking her body. Only her knarled hands over the metal of the brace indicated her state.

"Ech'tel san e kor?" she repeated.

McCoy tried to translate in his mind. "Um...K'vath." He pulled out a chair for her.

She sat down awkwardly. McCoy drew his chair before her so that they were on the same level.

"Yes," he said. "I am e kor, a physician. I am Dr. McCoy."

She studied him. "Th'li meh!"

He smiled. "That's because my parents were human. What can I do for you?"

She lowered her eyes and was silent for some moments. Finally, in a whisper, she said, "Tai sle h khro."

The pain is bad. For a Vulcan to admit that they could no longer control their pain was, McCoy knew, a desperate statement.
"What is your name?" he asked.

"Mah'lee."

He called up her file on the computer but her medications already included a strong narcotic.

"Your meds aren't due for another two hours," he said. "Do you wish your doctor called?"

She shook her head, then struggled to rise.

He almost touched her without thinking, a reflex to offer help. "May I assist you?"

She shook her head firmly, as if offended, and walked back into the hall. Her file indicated that she had been a musician, an adept and teacher of the thirty-six string kissar. Now she could not even straighten her fingers. Though it was ninety degrees in the hallway, she wore two thick sweaters over her dress.

McCoy watched her go, frail and bent, with slow, deliberate steps. Her walker brace squealed insultingly as she pushed it along the floor and her legs threatened to topple her. But she kept her head up as she placed every step.

He suddenly realized that he'd clenched his fists at the scene. "Damn," he said, then left the nurse's station, criss-crossing the long corridors to V'Rhsal's office.

He paused as he sat at the Vulcan's computer. It was odd, this feeling of another person hovering at the edge of his mind. He was slowly becoming aware of perceptions that were new to him, the presence of V'Rhsal not fully connected yet not quite apart. He had a lingering sense of where the Vulcan was, if V'Rhsal was asleep or awake. As each hour passed, the mind- link seemed to get stronger. V'Rhsal had told McCoy that there would be more communication within a few weeks, a mental interchange that would not be hindered by distance, but he felt flashes of it already. Last night in V'Rhsal's lab, he'd come across a prototype scanner. He knew what it was; it's design clear in his mind. He worked the controls and made sense of the readings - which had all been in Vulcan. The absolute awe had not yet diminished.

McCoy called a file onscreen, knowing how to work V'Rhsal's computer even though he had never worked with this operating system before. All these years he'd had such a deep distrust of Vulcan mind games for Spock's few mind -melds with him had left him with utter panic and terrible nausea. The feeling of another person crawling around his mind scared and revolted him. Yet, here he was, easing into a mental link with a stranger who was no longer a stranger. What was it T'Pring and Spock had said - never touching and touched? He understood that now. Stranger too how warm the touch was. V'Rhsal's demeanour was hardly that of a peaceful man. A Vulcan, McCoy felt, who could even intimidate Kirk.

McCoy blinked. That had been his first thought of Jim since he'd left the ship. Surprisingly, he'd had a good night's sleep, even though it was in a strange house, with new noises and with the steady drone of the ship gone. But now the memories rose - Scotty at the doorway, "Leonard, I've got a wee dram of stuff that will cure you of downing that brandy forever" - Jim's smile across a desk, "Bones, the women were so..." Yet he wasn't feeling regret. This was like a breath of fresh air, even if it was ninety-degrees and smelled of baked sand. He didn't feel so tired, no nagging ache in his neck, no young cadets flouncing around him with so much energy and enthusiasm.

Something nudged his mind and he knew V'Rhsal was in the hospital. A little later the Vulcan entered the office and switched on the light.

"Leonard, you can damage your eyesight by looking at a computer screen in the dark."

McCoy shrugged. "I was just checking your designs for a neural field projector."

V'Rhsal closed his eyes and McCoy felt a soft touch in his mind, like a flower petal settling on water. The Vulcan said, "The current is too strong. The spectrum of nerves affected is too broad." He opened his eyes and looked at the doctor for confirmation. "If I cause you any distress, tell me."

McCoy scowled. "This is your first real contact with humans, isn't it."

"You should now know it is so."

"Well, let me tell you. We're a lot tougher than we look. Of course you'll tell me if YOU experience any distress."

V'Rhsal studied McCoy, unsure of the doctor's humour. "I can't turn off my emotions," McCoy added. "I know they feel strange to you."

"You are human, Leonard. It is expected."

"Anyway," McCoy stood, "I think we should start with rats."

"Rats?" V'Rhsal stood too.

"You know, like Vulcan namachas. Small white namachas with tails. I want to start a family of them, bred to get Khlabar disease."

"I was not aware the disease affected terran rats."

"I can duplicate the symptoms."

"Should you not use Vulcan namachas, Leonard?"

McCoy shook his head. "Khlabar reminds me of something else I've seen. By the way, isn't there a geneticist researching the DNA structure for the gene at fault?"

"Yes, her name is T'Shyll."

"Do you think she'd take some time to talk with me?"

"I will arrange it," V'Rhsal said.

McCoy started for the door. "Well, I'm off to get some rats. I think I'll start with three and build a little family. Oh, I have two friends dropping by tomorrow afternoon. I hope you don't mind but it's the last time I'll see them for a while."

"Is Captain James Kirk one of them?"

"He's not unknown on Vulcan, is he?" McCoy tried not to smile. The display, or lack of it, made no difference. V'Rhsal twitched, affected.

"Are you sure about this?" McCoy queried softly.

The Vulcan shook his head. "You are concerned about me," he said with a trace of disgust.

"Is that a problem?"

"Your concern should rest solely with yourself and this research. You have no responsibility to me."

McCoy paused before replying. "Sorry. I'll try to...restrain my worrying."

"Such an endeavour would be in our interests." V'Rhsal sat at his computer and started working.

---

Kirk had closed his eyes during beam-down, having beamed down to Vulcan enough times to know the wisdom of doing so. He had barely solidified when a gust of sand hit his face. Right between the eyes. Right on schedule.

He rubbed his eyes clear before opening them a crack. "I've just about had enough of this damn stuff," he grumbled. "I find it in my hair for days."

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "I thought that only the good doctor complained about the sand."

"And if he was here, you'd be listening to him too," Kirk retorted.

The Vulcan started walking down the street and, after a moment, Kirk followed. They were in an area away from the city core. Many of the homes here were small, the yards mainly unfenced. It was very quiet, no sounds, no city noises. They passed only two other people, a man and a woman walking slowly down the middle of the road.

"Sure dead. I can't see Bones living here."

"Dead?" Spock asked in some surprise.

"It's just an expression," Kirk replied. "Don't Vulcans have any social life? What do you do in your leisure time?"

Spock sounded amused. "I would assume that Dr. McCoy is wondering the same thing."

Kirk rubbed more sand out of his eyes. "What about this V'Rhsal? What is he like?"

"I have never met him," Spock said. "He is of good family. His work indicates a dedicated mind. He has been honoured with fifteen scientific awards and many of his papers are required reading at Starfleet Academy. I would have been surprised if Dr. McCoy had refused an opportunity to work with him."

Kirk caught sight of a large gate and high walls that cut back from the street like the garrisons of a fortress. "Whoever lives here looks like they're expecting an attack."

Spock stopped at the gate. "This is the house."

Kirk sighed. "Poor Bones."

The gates suddenly opened and the two men exchanged glances before starting slowly down the front path.

The front door opened as they stepped onto the porch and Kirk recognized the tall, black-eyed Vulcan from McCoy's transmission.

Spock held up the Vulcan salute. "It is an honour to meet you, Kór V'Rhsal. I know of your work."

V'Rhsal returned the greeting. "The Physician McCoy is in the laboratory. This way."

He turned and led them down some dimly-lit stairs and through an underground expanse that reminded Kirk of dark mine shafts. He caught sight of covered objects, covered furniture, and a large computer network that took an entire room to house. The last room opened up with sudden brilliant sunlight into a large laboratory which sloped up to massive glass doors. McCoy glanced up from a computer terminal at their arrival and smiled. "Hey, Jim, Spock! I wasn't sure if you were coming."

"Sorry to be late. We got our orders. The Enterprise is pulling out tonight," Kirk said.

McCoy nodded. "Pull up some chairs. I've got coffee on."

Kirk glanced around as McCoy set out some cups but V'Rhsal had left.

"I found a place in the city this morning that sells real coffee beans, not that Vulcan shit," the doctor said.

Kirk chuckled. "Now if they only sold bourbon."

"I'll find some. Got to have your necessities." McCoy set a tray on the table and the dark odour of coffee wafted into the air.
"Where's the Enterprise off to?"

"Sigma," Kirk said. "Another civil war."

"Bad?" McCoy asked.

Kirk shrugged as he glanced around the lab. He noted Spock doing the same. "What are you doing here?"

McCoy lost his smile. "Have you ever heard of Khlabar Disease, Jim?"

"No, Bones. What is it?"

McCoy took a breath. "Well...it's not pleasant."

Spock took a tentative sip of his coffee. "Vulcan physicians have been studying Khlabar for two centuries."

"I know," McCoy said, "and they haven't progressed at all. It's very strange."

"And the Kelvan neural field?" Spock queried.

"I'll be working with the V'Rhsal neural field," McCoy said with a smile. "As soon as he builds it. He's designing one that will affect only a certain set of nerves."

"Are you hoping to arrest Khlabar progression?" Spock asked.

"We hope to do more than that."

"What is Khlabar?" Kirk asked.

"It's a disease that causes progressive nerve deterioration. One in five Vulcans are now affected by it. Onset unknown. Transmission unknown. Prognosis...fatal." McCoy rested his elbows on the table. "The progression of the disease reminds me of something I've seen before but, I don't know. I'm just an old country general practitioner."

"Uh huh," Kirk said. "How many times have I heard that one?"

McCoy suddenly looked up, as if reacting to a sound that Kirk didn't hear. "V'Rhsal, come and have some coffee."

Kirk looked behind him. The tall Vulcan was in the doorway to the next room but he came a few steps in at McCoy's request.

"Have some what, Leonard?"

"Coffee," McCoy repeated, pouring another cup. "Real coffee. You probably won't recognize the taste."

V'Rhsal sat and accepted the cup silently. There was quiet for a few minutes, then he said, "Captain Spock, notes of your research on Boltzmann entropy as it relates to ion path conservation have reached our libraries here. Have you explained the Asimov Paradox yet?"

"Our Chief Engineer aboard the Enterprise has worked out a reversing equation that eliminates the former necessity of including the paradox in the calculations of ion path waves."

V'Rhsal finally looked up. "So you have not been able to explain the Asimov Paradox."

"No, I have not," Spock admitted. "However, it's absence in the equations does not compromise the integrity of the resultant graph."

"Do you assume the graduation curve is a constant?"

"Yes," Spock replied. "I do not consider it would be otherwise."

"Dear Lord," McCoy sighed. "Get two Vulcans in a room and all they do is discuss quantum physics."

"Mechanical physics, doctor," Spock corrected.

V'Rhsal gave McCoy a quick look. "Actually, Leonard, you are correct. Boltzmann's Theory of Entropy is part of mechanical physics but Captain Spock's departure into reversing equations and constants of wave speed use quantum theory. Captain Spock's work in this area has not yet been successfully challenged."

Kirk saw Spock's eyebrows rise as he took the bait.

"Do you have an alternative theory, Kór V'Rhsal?"

"I do not believe the ion path waves are constant, but I would prefer to discuss this at some other time so that we do not bore Leonard."

Spock seemed taken aback. He eyed McCoy who was intently regarding his coffee.

"Refills, anyone?" McCoy asked.

"Please, doctor," Spock passed over his cup. "I am interested, however, if the way you plan to adapt the Kelvan neural field."

"Adapt, nothing! I'm getting a new one built from scratch," McCoy said with a chuckle. "We want to affect only those nerves that use 6-hydroseron as a transmitter."

"How will you manage to make the neural field so selective?" Kirk asked, remembering his own experiences with the Kelvan field.

"Each neural transmitter carries a specific electrical charge," V'Rhsal said. "We will base the field's range on those values. Leonard mapped 6-hydroseron's route in a rat's central nervous system and I measured the inherent charge. We should, in theory, now be able to adapt the field."

"Fascinating," Spock said.

"Logical," V'Rhsal replied.

"Magical," McCoy said with a grin that caused both Vulcans to stare at him. "You should see these rats we got, Spock. There's one that's a real instigator. He's only been here a few hours and he's escaped twice, pissed on my hand, and mated with the females. I've named him Kirk. He's in solitary in a metal box now, for obvious reasons, but I imagine he'll find a way out of there too."

Kirk choked on his coffee. "You've named him...what?"

"What could I do? The rat who bit her own tail off was already named Spock."

Spock was quiet however. "Doctor, is it possible to infect lab rats with Khlabar?"

"I'm going to mimic the symptoms," McCoy said.

"Would it not be more logical to use Vulcan namachas whose blood is copper--based?"

McCoy frowned. "I'm following another route."

"This is a hunch?" Spock asked. "This research is based on a human hunch?"

"Something Vulcan researchers have been unable to do for two centuries," V'Rhsal said softly.

Spock looked between V'Rhsal and McCoy and both eyebrows went up.

Later, back on the Enterprise, Kirk said, "Did you notice that every time you said something to Bones, V'Rhsal jumped in to defend him?"

Spock nodded. "Yes, I did."

"What do you make of him?"

Spock thought for a moment. "I do not believe he has had much experience with humans."

"He picked a helluva one to start with," Kirk said with a smile. "I doubt it will be very long before he finds out the McCoy hardly needs to be protected."

---

The morning wallowed hot. McCoy stood in the yard as the red sand blew past him. The sun had risen barely an hour ago and it was already eighty--nine degrees.

He rubbed the back of his neck and his palm came away gritty. A soft chime sounded through the open kitchen door, a signal that the tea had finished brewing. He'd finally ventured to the upper part of the house this morning, though he'd felt a tremendous feeling of guilt at doing so. V'Rhsal had been reduced to utter cajoling to get McCoy up into the kitchen and library and had almost given up with frustration he wouldn't admit to feeling. McCoy had tiptoed upstairs, feeling that, at any moment, V'Rhsal's wife would return and find him there. He knew that the invitation had been extended in good faith to him because he'd gone looking for an apartment yesterday evening and had been somewhat berated by V'Rhsal for doing so. Logically, he knew it would be more than inconvenient to live elsewhere when their research, lab, computer and rats were here. He knew that V'Rhsal must have spent a long time on the bedroom prepared for him, for it was full of the most odd but human assortment of things he'd ever seen, decorated by an alien who was trying to make him feel at home. But he felt like he was trespassing. It nagged him to be in someone else's home, walking their floors, drinking from their glasses.

He went inside and poured a cup of tea, wishing he had some good Kentucky whiskey to add to it. It was starting to nag him also, this constant perception of V'Rhsal in his head. The first initial high he'd felt from the release of giving his mind freely to the Vulcan had started to ebb for the meld was far more than he'd first imagined. He began to wonder if this was the way all melds were, or if there was something more going on. The responsibility of knowing another's secrets, and of giving his own up, was heavy in his thoughts. The weight of it, the light and dark of the mind pattern, was overwhelming.

"I don't know what the hell he thinks I am," McCoy whispered. "I can't work miracles. These people have searched for a cure for two hundred years!"

He felt a rise of emotion in his chest which disturbed the Vulcan. V'Rhsal was coming awake, the effect of McCoy's mental outburst.

He took a deep breath and tried to clear the panic from his mind as he went down to the lab.

It was after lunch before V'Rhsal came downstairs. The Vulcan was in faded clothes and black oil was smeared to his elbows.

"What have you been up to?" McCoy asked.

V'Rhsal hesitated. "Are you inquiring as to what I have been doing just now?"

"If it's not impolite."

As he washed up, V'Rhsal said, "You did ask me to check the flyer you purchased. I also fed your...rats."

"Our rats."

"Your rats," V'Rhsal returned. "I notice they have only one tail. They are not defective, are they?"

"One tail is normal for them."

V'Rhsal sat down. "Leonard, when you say that you want them to breed, I wonder how many rats you eventually expect to have."

McCoy lost his humour. "V'Rhsal, once they start getting sick, they're going to die. I know you don't like them. I'm not personally fond of rats myself. Those rats in there are tagged and registered with the Academy. I'll have to register each birth and I'll have to give the Academy a report on every demise. I know three rats can potentially make a lot of rats but believe me, we'll end up with very few once they start dying." He changed the subject. "How is my flyer?"

"The brake system has failed. One signal light is broken."

"Does that mean I shouldn't drive it?"

V'Rhsal lifted an eyebrow in an action so reminiscent of Spock that McCoy got a start.

"Leonard, the flyer is without a braking system. Do you honestly think you should use it before I fix it for you?" The Vulcan
sounded impatient, as if he were explaining this to a child.

McCoy was quiet for a moment. Then he asked softly, "How far away is your wife now?"

The eyebrow lifted again. "Do you wish me to calculate distance?"

"I just wondered if, perhaps, you already had."

V'Rhsal looked up. "What purpose would that information serve?"

"Forget it." McCoy put down his tea. "I know you've been waiting on me so I'm happy to tell you that I'm ready to infect some rats. By copying the mutations from the blood samples I took, I was able to make a synthetic bug that should mimic Khlabar with regard to symptoms and progression. I'm going to infect two rats first. Due to their faster metabolism, I should know within a day or two if my synthetic bug is on the mark. If it is, you'll be able to get going on your end."

"Do you suspect Khlabar is a virus or a bacterium?"

McCoy shrugged. "I'm not saying that yet. If it is, it's got a very selective transmission to it. I'm still inclined to believe there's a gene at fault. Anyway, we'll have to take the rats to the hospital to infect them. I didn't want to take any chances. The bug I made is in a sealed vial in the hospital's containment hot lab and that is where both it and the infected rats will stay."

"That will be inconvenient," V'Rhsal said.

"But safe."

"Leonard, those Vulcans afflicted with Khlabar are admitted to the hospital only when the disease has progressed past where their families can take care of them. Even in a hospital, the wards are not restricted. Simple infection control techniques, such as handwashing, are the only requirements."

"I'm not taking any chances, V'Rhsal. None. there are viruses with twenty to twenty-five year incubation rates. I'd rather be inconvenienced than run any risks." McCoy smiled quickly. "Since I have no brakes in my flyer, I guess we'll have to take the rats in yours."

"I will change my clothing first," V'Rhsal opened a locker and started undressing.

McCoy hastily averted his eyes. "I'll get the rats."

"Leonard," V'Rhsal said. "I sense some...emotion in your mind. Have I offended you?"

McCoy looked intently at the floor. "No, V'Rhsal."

"Leonard, there can be no dishonesty between us."

"Truly, I'm not offended but I can't turn off my feelings. I've been trying."

"I know." V'Rhsal's tone was gentle. McCoy glanced up, puzzled, then quickly looked away again. The Vulcan was entirely naked now. "Leonard, would you wish to learn some Vulcan techniques for suppressing emotion?"

"Not really," McCoy replied, staring hard at the walls. He heard V'Rhsal stop moving behind him.

"Leonard, I sense something again. Are you sure I am not offending you?"

"V'Rhsal, I'm trying to give you some privacy."

"Our minds are one. What privacy is there left?"

"Just get dressed."

The Vulcan sounded puzzled. "Leonard, the body is simply the body. As a physician, have you never---?"

"Just get dressed, ok?"

V'Rhsal put on his pants and reached for a shirt. "Leonard, if you undress in my presence, do you wish me to avert my eyes?"

McCoy took a deep breath. "I guarantee I won't do that."

"Explain." V'Rhsal came around the table but he was fully clothed now.

McCoy took a deep breath. "Well, humans tend to keep their clothes on."

"So do Vulcans."

"V'Rhsal, I can't explain it," McCoy said quickly. "Let's go to the hospital."

V'Rhsal turned towards the door, hesitated, and turned back. "Leonard, I sensed...shame?"

"V'Rhsal--"

The Vulcan interrupted. "You can shame yourself. Your body does not shame you."

McCoy mumbled something V'Rhsal couldn't hear as he went past the Vulcan.

CHAPTER FOUR

T'Shyll was a small but stern Vulcan who did not stop working at her computer terminal simply because he was being introduced to her. He spent the entire interview talking to the side of her face.

"I am told you are researching Khlabar Disease, Physician Leonard McCoy."

"Yes."

"Why did you wish to speak with me?"

McCoy took a seat, ignoring her lack of courtesy. "I understand you are looking for the gene at fault."

"I assume you feel it is inherited."

"It's a possibility."

"You should research in one direction, Physician Leonard McCoy. I am also told you feel Khlabar is a virus."

"Well, I don't discount that possibility either."

"Why should I talk to you about my research?"

McCoy hesitated. "We're both looking for a cure, aren't we? I was hoping to pool our resources."

"Explain that term." Her fingers flew at her keyboard and he signed tiredly.

"I was hoping we could exchange information."

"I have much more information on Khlabar than you do. It would not be a fair exchange. Also it is a Vulcan condition, not a human one. You are human."

McCoy stood and came up to her desk. "Look. If I'm going in the wrong direction with my research, could you at least tell me that?"

"I think you 'went in the wrong direction' the moment you came to Vulcan."

McCoy regarded her quietly for a long time before saying, "You know, I think you're bluffing. I think you haven't got a damn bit of information at all. Your search has been utterly fruitless and you're just too damn stubborn to admit such a thing to a human."

She did not react to him, but kept working at her computer without pause.

"Would it make a difference if Kór V'Rhsal came in here to talk with you?"

She stopped typing but did not look up. "This interview is concluded."

"Well, it was nice meeting you." McCoy left her office and fumed down the hospital corridor, ending up on a ward he hadn't yet encountered. In a sunroom sat a small Vulcan boy who seemed too young to be left alone. McCoy glanced up and down the hall but it was empty. He eyed the child with some concern, then shrugged to himself. "I guess they know what they're doing," he mumbled as he started back down the hall. At that moment the child looked up at him and stared.

"Vah nhee?" He touched his eartips. "Vah nhee?"

McCoy suddenly found himself smiling. In Vulcan, he said, "No, child. They did not fall off. I was born this way."

The child's eyes widened. McCoy entered the sunroom and bent his head. Tentatively, the boy touched McCoy's ears.

"Es ta lak e'nor!"

"Human," McCoy corrected. "Es ta human."

A while later, V'Rhsal found McCoy and several children on the floor of the sunroom reading a book. McCoy felt the Vulcan's presence and decided to ignore him. The children, however, quieted respectfully.

"Leonard, what are you doing?"

McCoy sighed. "It wouldn't do any good to explain."

A little girl giggled and shouted, "Yahoo, cowboy!" V'Rhsal stared at her.

"That's an old earth greeting," McCoy said quickly.

"Do these children's parents know you are here?"

"I haven't seen any adults for..." McCoy glanced at his chronometer in surprise. "For two hours."

"Perhaps we should leave quickly before an adult returns," V'Rhsal said.

"Why? Is there a problem?"

V'Rhsal paused. "The child was laughing. That is not Vulcan way."

"The child is not an adult."

V'Rhsal eyed McCoy. "True," he finally admitted.

"Am I really causing any harm? We were just reading a book. And besides, these kids can't get over the fact that I don't have pointed ears." McCoy stood. "I was in a tea shop while waiting on T'Shyll and I had a very hard time getting anyone to serve me. They took one look and kind of backed away. Maybe it would do some good to have early contact with an 'alien species'."

V'Rhsal's expression softened slightly. "I accept your logic. However, their parents may not. Was your meeting with T'Shyll to any profit?"

"I'll tell you in the flyer." McCoy said goodbye to the children and followed V'Rhsal outside into the strong sunlight.

"Did the children enjoy the book on surgical intervention in the elderly?" V'Rhsal asked.

"They can't read yet," McCoy said. "They looked at the pictures and I told them some old fairy tales. There wasn't a reader terminal in the room to get something more appropriate."

"Vulcan children are not like human children. I doubt a reader terminal would have supported any children's stories as you understand them," V'Rhsal said.

"Let me tell you about T'Shyll," McCoy started as he got into the flyer but the Vulcan shook his head.

"Tell me without words. It is easier."

McCoy closed his eyes. The thread between them flowed gently back and forth. The memory of the interview took only a few seconds to share with the Vulcan.

In his mind, McCoy apologized. if i hadn't been human, she probably would have opened up more

why do you say that, leonard

like in the tea shop

i should apologize to you. t'shyll and i have some family relationship but we do not speak by our own choice

but

many consider me too emotional

McCoy opened his eyes. "YOU?" he asked out loud.

"Yes, me." V'Rhsal started the flyer.

---

The sand blew all night against the windows. McCoy finally gave up trying to sleep and went down to the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee. It was pitch black outside, with only starlight over the mountains behind V'Rhsal's house. Standing at the window, McCoy could forget that a whole street of houses lay to either side of him.

He had been standing for some time when he heard a slight noise from the lab down below. Puzzled, he crept down the stairs and through the rooms until he got to the doorway of the lab.

"V'Rhsal, what are you doing?"

The Vulcan glanced up from a piece of equipment he'd been working on. "Leonard, is something wrong?"

"It's very late. Aren't you planning on getting any sleep?"

V'Rhsal returned to the equipment. "My body is not in need of rest, Leonard."

McCoy suddenly smiled. "For heaven's sakes, after all these years, I finally understand how it must have galled Spock to have me on his back every time he stayed up late. Vulcans actually need less sleep than humans." McCoy got another cup of tea for the Vulcan and brought it down to the lab. "Here, it's how you like it, strong and no sugar."

V'Rhsal looked at the cup. "If I am thirsty, Leonard, I am able to get my own drink."

"I don't mind getting this for you." McCoy sat down and V'Rhsal, after a moment, took a sip from the steaming mug.

"Is it strong enough? I practically disintegrated the spoon stirring it."

V'Rhsal nodded. "It is adequate. You took some time to make this in the fashion I prefer even though your tea was down here cooling."

McCoy frowned. "It only took a minute." He tapped the metal object on the table in front of the Vulcan. "Is that it?"

"It is my first prototype for the neural field," V'Rhsal said. "I will revise it to make it more compact." He took another sip of his tea. "Did you check on...our rats?"

McCoy smiled. "They're ok. I think one of the females is pregnant."

"That was prompt."

"Naming the male 'Kirk' was apt." McCoy stretched tiredly.

"Can you not sleep, Leonard?"

McCoy started to laugh, much to V'Rhsal's confusion. Finally he said, "Sorry, V'Rhsal. I'll be in the next room working on those chemical tracings of 6-hydroseron."

---

McCoy woke to hear V'Rhsal's voice in his mind. He dressed quickly and ran down to the lab.

"What is it?"

V'Rhsal was standing in front of McCoy's computer terminal. "What did you leave running here last night?"

"Chemical tracings." McCoy peered over V'Rhsal's shoulder. "Holy shit!"

"Interesting." V'Rhsal sat down at the terminal which was quietly humming. "It is filling its fourth tape. What kind of tracing is this?"

"6-Hydroseron. I tagged the transmitter with an isotope and left the computer to follow any impulse's path that uses it through a namacha's brain."

V'Rhsal glanced up at McCoy. "The transmitter's route does not appear to retrace itself at all. Every notation on screen says 'original tracing'."

"You know what this means," McCoy said as he sat down dejectedly. "That damn transmitter goes through the entire brain stem and cerebellum. Shit!"

V'Rhsal turned to McCoy. "What does it mean?"

"It's the reason why your people haven't come up with a cure. It can't be cured! It doesn't matter if you increase the central nervous system's sensitivity to 6-hydroseron because 6-hydroseron goes through almost every pathway through the brain stem AND so does every other impulse from the brain to the rest of the body. EVERYTHING going from brain to spine goes through the brain stem. Khlabar affects the brain stem therefore EVERY neural transmitter is affected. There's no way around it."

"There must be a way."

"V'Rhsal, the computer's on its fourth tape," McCoy said. "What the hell can we do? We can't set up the neural field to affect every impulse in the brain stem. That's where all our involuntary reflexes are, respiration, swallowing, gagging, all of them. I won't fool around in there." He tapped the computer screen. "And if this is just a little namacha's brain, can you imagine the complexity of a Vulcan's brain?"

V'Rhsal stood. "Leonard, set up an isotope tag in my brain. I wish to see just how complex it is."

"V'Rhsal, what's the point?"

"Leonard, please."

McCoy looked up in surprise.

"Is that not the proper term?"

"V'Rhsal, you could end up wearing a scanner on your head for a week until the computer finds a previous route."

"Perhaps longer."

McCoy grumbled as he got up. "Stubborn Vulcans. Don't know their head from a..." His voice trailed off as he pulled out a hypo. "V'Rhsal, I really don't think..."

"Leonard, you are wasting time."

McCoy reset the computer, then injected the isotope behind V'Rhsal's ear. "V'Rhsal, even if we try to follow the tracings in just the namacha, it would take months."

"Then we will follow the tracings in my brain stem."

McCoy scowled. "V'Rhsal, have you ever heard of the term obsession?"

"Leonard, if we use a carbon-based molecular chain, I am sure we could 'grow' the tracings directly from computer readout. That would take an estimated two point seven days."

McCoy blinked. "You want to grow a brain stem from plant tissue?"

"It would be the easiest, and safest way to continue this line of research."

"Even if we use the smallest molecular chain possible, it would still take up a helluva lot of room."

"You are right. Please assist me to clear the two furthest rooms. We can grow it there."

McCoy shrugged. "My mother always said I should get into farming. I guess this is as good a time as any."

---

There finally came a day when the sand didn't blow. McCoy checked on his rats, seventeen of them now, then decided to take advantage of the weather and walk home from the hospital. He passed few other people and those he did pass tended to avert their eyes. He, on the other hand, found it hard not to look around him. He hadn't seen a human for two months now. Every voice he heard was flat and inflectless and every face he saw wore the same austere expression. Not seeing other humans wasn't so bad. What was truly depressing him was the absolute lack of entertainment. No fiction section existed in the libraries and nothing with any swing to it ever graced the rooms of the music halls. News feeds reported very little outside of Vulcan politics and community information. The worst was he still hadn't found any place that sold liquor. He'd walked through every tourist spot and every off-world shop and found they were all run by Vulcans who did not understand the wonderful effects of alcohol on the body.

He stopped in a public square and took a seat on a bench. A few minutes later a woman and a baby sat down on the bench beside him.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. Nice day, isn't it?" McCoy said.

She nodded an acknowledgement of his greeting but did not speak. Pulling out a journal from her bag, she casually read it while she lifted up her baby and let it nurse. McCoy hastily rose from the bench and resumed his walk.

There was electronic mail waiting for him at the house. He picked the tapes out of the feeder and walked around to the back of the house. V'Rhsal's legs were all McCoy could see of him from underneath a flyer.

"Haven't you got those brakes done yet?"

He was not graced with an answer. McCoy sat down on a step beside a greasy metallic object and said, "I told you the brakes were fine. They stopped the flyer, but no, you insisted that they needed fine tuning. You've been under there all day and I bet that this is probably a main part of my braking system here beside me that you can't get to fit back in."

"Leonard, do not nag me," came the Vulcan's muffled voice. "And it is not as though you are without transportation since I gave you the code to my flyer which, I find, I did not hear land just now."

"It's at the hospital parking lot. It was such a nice day that I decided to walk back."

McCoy heard another muffled tone. "Was that cursing, V'Rhsal?"

"Vulcans do not swear, Leonard."

"Sure they do. They just don't admit it." McCoy stretched his legs out before him. "We've both got some mail here. Real exciting. You've got your subscription to Warp Drive Update."

"Leonard, will you be retrieving my flyer at any time soon?"

"You mean, you want me to walk all the way back?"

He was greeted with utter silence. Even V'Rhsal's tools stopped moving.

"V'Rhsal, I'm going absolutely crazy on this planet. There is nothing to do. I swear, this planet is so boring that even boring people don't come here."

"Leonard, perhaps you should vacation for a few days."

McCoy scowled. "There aren't any ships in spaceport to hitch a ride on."

"I suggest a walk in the desert at night. It is le'mayta season."

"Probably better company," McCoy muttered.

V'Rhsal slid out from underneath the flyer. "Leonard..." he started but before he could finish the sentence, McCoy handed him the metallic object from the steps.

McCoy, realizing what he'd done, stood and sighed. "Good God, this is eerie. I swear sometimes I can hear your thoughts so clear it's as if you were talking out loud."

V'Rhsal cleaned the piece of brake system. "Such is the reason for the link between us."

"Are you...picking up anything from me?"

The Vulcan slid back under the flyer. "Your thoughts are chaotic. It is difficult is isolate one concept at a time."

"I'll slow down. What am I thinking now?"

There was a long silence. Then V'Rhsal, very quietly, said, "I do not have a sister. Nor, I assure you, would I act in such a way with her if I had such a sibling."

"V'Rhsal, we have to talk seriously. And I can't do that with you under the flyer."

"Yes, you can, Leonard. I wish to finish this before the light fails."

"V'Rhsal, it's hard to say what I'm going to say without seeing your face."

"Using your eyes is but a small part of how you can see me now. Do not fear this, Leonard. We can speak now. There will be no deception, nothing hidden."

McCoy sat back down. "Then I'll tell you. I'm not upset with the lack of...life on this planet. It's really not that at all. But I feel you haven't been honest with me. There is deception here."

"How have I deceived you?"

"This isn't a mind meld, is it?"

"It is, Leonard."

"V'Rhsal, I'm not stupid. I've experienced the mind meld before, more than once. My God, I've never come out of it in such an intimate position."

"How much more intimacy is there than a merging of minds?"

"I was on top of you!" McCoy shot back. "V'Rhsal, it's nowhere near your time but you were..um...you know."

"Leonard, so were you."

McCoy shifted uncomfortably on the step. "V'Rhsal, everything you are, ALL that you are, ALL that I am, is open between us. Why? Why so deep?"

The Vulcan came out from underneath the flyer, wiping his hands on a cloth. "You said that James Kirk's name was well known on Vulcan. But so is yours. Do you think I would have contacted the first physician from the first starship that visited here? Do you think that any non-Vulcan doctor would have been sufficient'?"

McCoy frowned. "I don't know about other doctors but I'm just a general practitioner from Georgia."

"Planet ULAPG42821DB, you were able to stop a bound water poisoning that threatened the lives of everyone aboard the starship; 70 Ophiucus, you found the antitoxoid for the virus created by the life prolongation experiment; Deneva, and the
madness--"

"V'Rhsal," McCoy cut in.

"I have reviewed your own starship's logs and spoken with Ambassador Sarek."

"You spoke with Sarek about me?"

"He approved my desire to link my mind with yours for this research. His opinion was that we would be compatible." The Vulcan looked into McCoy's eyes. "Leonard, I know what you have done and what you are capable of doing. And so I waited for you to return to Vulcan. I waited for no other but you."

McCoy looked away. "V'Rhsal, what if I can't find the answers here?"

"Leonard, you have not even tried. I have received nothing from you but emotional refuse. You are polluting your brilliance with base regrets and guilt."

McCoy's voice lowered. "Pardon me?"

V'Rhsal's voice harshened too. "I will submit examples. I feel your irrational anger and distrust of doctors who would be your students but who happen to be younger and obviously more enthusiastic. I sense regrets over women whom you did not desire sufficiently or who did not desire you. And there is more, petty whining over advancing years, complaints when there is nothing of sufficient cause about which to complain. And all these endless, useless fears of failing to the point where you do not bother to try. You may be bored, but I have had to put up with all of that. You dumped it into my mind." He paused in order to steady his voice. "Leonard, I have not deceived you. You have deceived me. Not for one minute have you truly and honestly tried to outwit this disease."

McCoy clenched his fists to keep from socking the Vulcan. "You inbred bastard! You can't blame me for being human."

"That excuse is no longer valid."

McCoy jumped up and paced back and forth angrily. "Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!" He kicked at the flyer, then suddenly stilled and leaned against the metal.

"Damnit," McCoy said softly.

"Leonard?" V'Rhsal asked with some alarm.

"You're right. Damnit, V'Rhsal. I've been feeling...sorry for myself and, thanks to our mind link, I guess I've been sharing it all with you."

"Logically, you should acknowledge it but not let it stop you."

"My not being logical was one of the things you originally liked in me."

V'Rhsal came up beside McCoy. "I told you the ideal way to continue. Unfortunately, not even logical beings always follow it. I am somewhat outcast in my family. I shamed them with my emotions."

"What emotions?" McCoy retorted gruffly.

"I have personal, selfish motives for my wish to end Khlabar on this world - my father, my teacher, and now my brother. There have been others, and all who suffered did so in front of my eyes. I have given you the trust of a bonding because I...cannot
watch it happen anymore."

"A bonding?" McCoy frowned. "I was right. There's more here than a mind meld. So you deceived me."

The Vulcan silenced.

McCoy took a breath. "I'm not up on Vulcan things but I thought only married people were bond to each other."

"Usually," V'Rhsal admitted.

"What happens if you go into Pon Farr?"

"That is not for four years, Leonard. It will not happen with you."

"Thank God for small mercies," McCoy said. "Damnit, why the hell didn't you stop at a link."

"I originally intended to do so, Leonard, but it was your decision as well."

"I don't recall being asked. When did I decide?"

V'Rhsal looked puzzled. "During the initial meld."

"Like hell!"

"Leonard, when I stopped at what I thought was a deep enough level, you went deeper, so I followed. It is just as well. Ambassador Sarek mentioned that you had some trouble with mind melds and I do not wish to risk losing touch with you when you eventually return to the Enterprise."

"Don't blame this on me! I was never given the instruction manual on these things!"

V'Rhsal eyed McCoy and almost, almost smiled. McCoy felt the amusement in his mind and his jaw dropped.

"Well, poor Vulcan, I'm 'polluting' you with some good old human emotion as well."

"Interesting."

McCoy managed a laugh. "It sure is." He took a few steps towards the house. "I'm going down to check on our plant. Last time I looked it had filled that first room."

"It has grown bigger since then."

"V'Rhsal, you wore that scanner for four days before we got a repeat tracing on that transmitter. Your brain stem sits in a little spot in the back of your skull. The brain stem we're growing is over fifteen feet high."

"Do you think we should not try?"

"No," McCoy shook his head as he strode into the house. "I guess we will try."

CHAPTER FIVE

McCoy had not seen the house on the hill for forty-five years. It's dusky red paint and isolation among the trees gave it a rustic, cabin look, though, indeed, it stood three stories and had seventeen rooms. He was down below, in the river that spanned the valley, skating on the ice that hung heavy over churning water. He hadn't skated for forty-five years either. Strange, how these things went. The feel of the blades scraping was as familiar as if he'd been skating only yesterday. The winter was strong and crisp in his nose.

He skated past the clump of trees where he'd once had a tire swing and the house came into view again. The windows were all dark. Usually the kitchen light was on and his mother, cooking supper, would wave to him.

A wind gust chilled his face and ears. A few snowflakes came down from the sky, the promise of a storm. He skated faster, breathing hard in the icy air, but the house seemed no nearer. There, again, the same clump of trees, and he pushed harder only to move seemingly nowhere. The trees did not move. Suddenly the ice heaved up ahead. In the dim light a face stared back at him. He gasped at himself under the ice, his arms outstretched towards the surface, the skin throttled and blue.

He heard voices and saw children dancing wildly on the shore and their voices rang over the frozen river.

"Fire and ice and the joy of wild birth because we all live with witches."

McCoy jumped up. He was sitting in bed, the covers wrapped around his legs, and the heat hit his face like a hot towel. He'd barely caught his breath when a loud bang roared through the house.

He jumped out of bed and ran, crashing into V'Rhsal at the stairs down to the lab.

"What the HELL was that?" McCoy started but the Vulcan was taking the steps three at a time.

McCoy followed more slowly, coughing on plaster dust that choked the air. He came suddenly upon the Vulcan at the entrance to the first cleared room. McCoy glanced over V'Rhsal's shoulder.

"My God..."

Debris filled the room. The plant they'd been growing from the computer model lay scattered in brown chunks. The computer terminal lay on its side, the monitor blinking a dim blue.

V'Rhsal righted the computer and tried the keyboard. "The terminal has sustained a bad jar but the memory is intact. Voice mode does not work."

"What could have happened?" McCoy asked.

"Perhaps the computer can tell us." V'Rhsal manually punched up a string of codes. The terminal cleared but the memory responded slowly to the Vulcan's prompting. Finally a run of numbers crawled along the bottom of the screen.

V'Rhsal frowned. "According to memory, the molecular chain was the cause of the explosion."

"You're kidding," McCoy said. "The plant exploded? It was a simple chemical chain! How could it blow up?"

The Vulcan paused as he considered the numbers and codes. "We set up the molecular chain to exactly replicate the computer tracings of my brain stem. According to memory, there was energy contained in the tracing model."

McCoy kneeled on the floor, careful of the soggy, brown debris. "Energy? Where?"

"A moment, Leonard." V'Rhsal prompted the terminal again. "Our plant model copied every chemical base and atom structure, on a much larger scale. Apparently the brain stem stores energy in...pockets, I suppose for its own use. One of the pockets was weak and its containment was breached. That breach caused the explosion."

McCoy glanced around. "But, V'Rhsal, I checked the scan on your brain. You had no weak blood vessels, no aneurysms."

"Blood vessels are not plant tissues."

McCoy fell into a sitting position. "Good Lord, if we're all walking around with energy like this stored in our brains, it's a wonder we don't all explode!"

"Leonard, don't be so melodramatic. The model is four hundred and three times larger than a normal-sized brain stem."

"Well forgive me, V'Rhsal, but we've been down in this lab a lot. We could have been down here when the pocket went! Do you realize that?"

"Leonard, calm yourself. That did not happen. We will have to be more cautious."

"Cautious of what? We're working in the complete unknown here! How do we know what to be cautious of?"

"The energy released indicates that one of the larger pockets exploded. If there are further explosions, they should not be so substantial."

McCoy scowled. "So, what are we talking about? Just the loss of an arm or leg?"

"Leonard, there is no need of sarcasm either."

"V'Rhsal, we were planning on using this thing as a model for disrupting and re-routing neural impulses. Have you ever heard of osmosis?"

"It is a biological tendency to equalize chemical and electrical concentrations between the interior and exterior of a cell."

"I don't mean to be a killjoy but what do you think could happen if we re-route an electrical impulse away from a 'pocket' of energy?"

"Possible breach of the cell wall as the electrical concentrations attempt to equalize. However, Leonard, it is a merely a possible consequence. Many cells are semi-permeable, allowing one way flow only."

"But we don't know and we CAN'T know except by trial and error. It would be like having a box of candles with a few sticks of T.N.T. mixed in, and then sitting around in the dark and lighting them with your teeth."
The Vulcan keyed in a few more commands. "Leonard, this is not comparable to trinitrotoluene. The energy stored is intense but clean. Its release caused no biologically harmful effects in terms of residue. There are no toxins in the air beyond the plaster dust from the casings in the walls."

McCoy picked up a bit of the plant. "Look at this poor thing. It's been literally ripped open from inside out."

"We will have to grow it again. Perhaps if we tried a step or two up the molecular chain...." The Vulcan shut off the computer.

"V'Rhsal, even if I give all these pockets of energy the benefit of the doubt, and we disrupt a neural trail nine times and nothing happens, it only means that we'll get an explosion on our tenth try. We will breach another pocket wall. That could cause more damage. I mean, this is not only your house but your wife's as well. What's she going to say when she comes home and finds half her walls in orbit?"

"I have measurements of the energy released from this explosion. I will design a containment field for this level of energy, which should be more than sufficient for the consequences of any other breaches."

The Vulcan started cleaning up the plant debris. He righted a table, then said softly, "Leonard, what is that you are thinking?"

McCoy scowled. "I've got a name for them. 'But, oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day. If your Snark be a Boojum, for then. You will softly and suddenly vanish away and never be met with again. For although common Snarks do no manner of harm, yet I feel it my duty to say, some are Boojums......'"

The Vulcan looked puzzled. "That reference has no meaning for me."

McCoy looked up. "It will."

---

McCoy jolted awake with the image of the empty house in his eyes and the feel of the winter cold on his skin.

He sat up and tried to calm his lungs, then felt the twinge in his mind that told him the Vulcan was awake.

He pulled on some pants and padded downstairs. The lights were dim in the room where the plant tissue was growing. It groaned under its own weight and pulsed with lightning flashes of nerve impulses that flashed along its tendrils and were gone in a blink. It shivered where it neared the walls. The roots rustled underneath like the sounds of a hundred mice. McCoy could no longer find the floor, or even half of the walls. Whenever he stepped near it, or shone a light towards it, it cringed back into the darkness and groaned at him.

It frankly scared McCoy to be alone with it. Oddly enough, it didn't seem to bother V'Rhsal in the least. He stepped over it, through it, and even on it, without a second look. He was standing, now, in the middle of two huge roots that led into the bulk growing in the next room. He was unclothed, as was his sleeping habit, indicating that he had probably just awakened.

"What are you doing up?" McCoy whispered, looking carefully at anything but V'Rhsal. "Is something going on?"

The Vulcan shook his head. "No, Leonard. I am simply checking on the plant tissue."

McCoy shivered, utterly spooked. "Let's hope we don't find another weak pocket. I'd hate to have it explode right now."

"It is within the containment field."

"Yeah, and so are we. You're down here all the time, lately. What are you doing? Communing with it?"

"Hardly. It is just a plant."

"Modelled on your brain stem. You must feel some empathy."

"Interesting thought, Leonard. Perhaps if we did a tracing on my cerebral cortex, I could actually communicate with myself."

McCoy stared at V'Rhsal. "Was that a joke?"

"I fear you are contaminating me."

McCoy smiled. "If I am, it can only be to your benefit." He waded through some plant tissue. "Can we hurt this thing by being here?"

"I do not think so. This one is stronger," V'Rhsal gently touched a tendril.

The doctor found a clear spot and sat down. "I know this is four hundred and three times to scale, but some of these plant 'nerves' are so minute I need a microscope to see them. It's...awe-inspiring. We are literally growing part of a brain." An impulse flashed by McCoy, as if reacting to his words. "Though I have to admit, it gives me the creeps."

"Strange perception, Leonard. In your surgical career you have had contact with brain tissue."

"But it never outweighed me." McCoy rubbed his eyes. "V'Rhsal, I can sense some disturbance. Why are you up, really?"

"We are bond. I dream your dreams. What is the significance of the house?"

McCoy shrugged. "It's the house in which I grew up. I don't know why I'm dreaming about it."

"As we are both awake, perhaps we could dress and go to the hospital to check on our rats."

"Good idea. Poor things," McCoy said. "They're pretty sick."

"Ironic, Leonard, that as a doctor you find it easier to cause a disease than to cure it."

"Go get dressed," McCoy muttered. "...smart ass..."

---

One of the rats had died. McCoy gently lifted the small animal from the cage and ran a scanner over it.

V'Rhsal looked over the doctor's shoulder. "Cause of death, Leonard?"

McCoy laid the rat on the table. "Primary - Congestive Heart Failure. Secondary - progression of Khlabar-type symptoms."

The Vulcan regarded the rat without touching it. "I would say that your synthetic bug is a success."

"...whoopie," McCoy mumbled.

"I am curious, Leonard. Is it possible for iron-based blood types to be infected with Khlabar?"

"I would doubt it."

"Yet the symptoms and progression of Khlabar are apparent in these red-blooded rats."

"Yes, they are," McCoy nodded.

"How is that possible, Leonard?"

McCoy washed his hands. "It's possible because these rats really have Cere-myelitis, which is a distinctly human condition."

At the Vulcan's uncomprehending look, McCoy added, "Inflammation of the cerebellar cortex. It is caused by a virus which first enters and inflames the respiratory tract. Mode of transmission from the lungs to the central nervous system is, to this day, still unknown. You don't see much of it in humans now because we found a way to prevent it about one hundred and fifty years ago."

"Not a cure?"

McCoy shook his head. "No, we never did pursue a cure since our prevention methods almost completely eradicated it. It's part of our wide-spectrum booster shots. I thought of it after I did a few rounds with some physicians here. Do you know of a kissar-adept, Mah'Lee?"

V'Rhsal nodded. "Most Vulcans do. She is highly-regarded."

"She let me examine her. I noticed that her eyes had trouble making 'pursuit' movements, which are how the eyes follow moving objects. Also she had trouble keeping muscles in steady, contracted positions. The walking brace she uses is a terrible problem because she can't always maintain a hold on it."

"Leonard, Vulcan physicians know that Khlabar affects the cerebellum."

"Right, and it does that by interrupting messages to and from the thalamus, messages that are carried through nerve impulses that use 6-hydroseron as a neurotransmitter. Now, Cere-myelitis also affects thalamic messages but it does so by inhibiting the enzyme that breaks down the neurotransmitters after neuron excitement. That is the only difference I could find between Cere-myelitis and Khlabar, but I'm not sure if that truly is a difference at all."

"Then, you do not believe that Khlabar is inherited?"

McCoy shrugged. "I don't have any evidence to support it. On the other hand, I don't have any evidence against it. It would help if I could get hold of a few autopsy reports on victims of Khlabar."

"Why have you not done so?" V'Rhsal asked.

"I've tried. I've made several written requests to T'Pall, the Hospital Administrator, but all have come back with that big red stamp "Permission Denied". Apparently, she doesn't feel the need to explain why I can't see these reports."

V'Rhsal thought for a moment. "You may need permission from the family of the deceased to open archived medical files."

McCoy scowled. "And would I have to go through T'Pall for those names too? She won't even grant me a meeting with her."

"I will ask her, Leonard."

"Will she speak to you?"

V'Rhsal raised an eyebrow. "I would think so. I am her son."

McCoy stared at the Vulcan. "She's your Mother?"

"Is that not what I just said, Leonard?"

"Then you haven't, by the way, mentioned that I happen to be working with you for the next three years? Her secretary won't even let me place a call to her."

"Accept my apologies, Leonard, but my family has had little contact with humans and I have little contact with my family."

"Little contact as in none?"

"Perhaps."

"What's so bad about humans anyway?"

V'Rhsal stood. "Vulcan has a distrust of aliens. Our history is one of constant struggle against alien invaders. Some on Vulcan feel that alien contact of any kind is potentially harmful."

"And does your family feel that way?" McCoy persisted.

V'Rhsal paused. "I cannot answer for my family. I do not wish that you should judge Vulcans too harshly, Leonard. Humans are unpredictable. Their often irrational, emotional behaviour makes them potentially dangerous to those Vulcans whose logical outlook prefers prediction of reaction. What cannot be reasonably foreseen may disrupt harmony and calm."

McCoy covered the little rat, then checked the others in the cage. "Being Vulcan, V'Rhsal, I'm sure you don't mind a bit of harmony and calm."

"Leonard, I have had no occasion to regret linking to you since you have stopped feeling pity for yourself. In fact, I find it not unpleasant."

McCoy eyed V'Rhsal uncertainly for a moment, then abruptly rose. "The sun's coming up. I think I'll go down to the wards and check on Mah'Lee. She claims to be an early riser. I'll see if she was telling the truth or trying to put one over on me."

---

Mah'Lee was in a sunroom. A heavy shawl covered her small body and a blanket lay draped over her feet. On the floor, sitting quietly, were two small children.

Upon McCoy's arrival, one of the children looked up and said, "Yahoo, cowboy!"

The elderly Vulcan woman glanced at the child, then at McCoy. "Thee has had contact with my son's issue, Healer?"

McCoy stopped dead in his tracks, wondering if he'd, yet again, inadvertently, somehow insulted another Vulcan.

She waited for an answer. Finally, McCoy said, "I uh...may have read them a story or two. I didn't know they were of your family. I did not mean offence." Oh hell, he thought. Are all these damned Vulcans related or what?

The other child looked between McCoy and Mah'Lee, then asked softly, "Will Dokkar MacKoy complete the story about the tigger and the piglet?"

He sat down across from Mah'Lee. "I don't know if your grandmother would approve."

"I would wish to hear, Healer," Mah'lee said, surprising McCoy.

"Oh...sure. Where were we?"

"At the forest," said the girl.

"Oh, right, Piglet was walking through the forest when--"

"What is a forest?" asked the girl.

McCoy eyed her, then said, "Try to imagine so many trees that you can't see past them and their leaves block out the sun."
He scratched his cheek, trying to remember the rest of the story. "Anyway, Piglet was walking through the forest when suddenly Tigger jumped out of a tree and bounced him."

"Define bounce," the boy said.

McCoy squinted. "Pardon?"

"Bounce is an action, Dokkar?" the girl enquired.

"Like this." McCoy got up and hopped a few times, feeling rather silly. "That's bouncing. Tigger bounced Piglet and Piglet, being a very small animal, was very frightened."

"Frightened?" the boy interrupted.

McCoy blinked. "It's...um...a..." He eyed the three completely impassive faces before him and said, "Forget I said frightened. Piglet was not frightened. Piglet was a girl animal and Tigger was a boy animal and the two of them approached their parents. Tigger became a diplomat and Piglet earned her degree in astro-physics and their parents approved of their union so they joined minds and were married and had many children and lived a long, prosperous life together. The end."

The children looked at each other and frowned. The girl, hesitantly, said, "Dokkar MacKoy, we preferred your other stories."

McCoy couldn't help smiling. He noticed Mah'Lee studying him. When he looked up, she said, "I notice thy command of Vulcan tongue has improved greatly."

Another 'wonderful' effect of the mind link with V'Rhsal, McCoy thought glumly, hoping that he wasn't broadcasting the link so freely to her as he apparently did on the Enterprise to Spock. "I really came here to see how you were doing with that new medication."

"I do not complain, Healer."

"I know you don't complain," McCoy retorted. "And that's my chief complaint with you, that you never complain!"

She drew herself up with an austere gesture but her eyes were soft. "If it will please you, I will attempt to complain in the future."

"See that you do," McCoy muttered. "I'll see you later, madam. I'll be doing rounds with your doctor again."

Mah'Lee drew the blanket closer around her feet. "And will I receive a bill for all the visits with which you honour me?"

"Do you think you could afford my fees?" McCoy chuckled. "I'm quite pricy."

She considered for a moment, then sent the children from the room. "I could offer something in return."

McCoy shook his head. "It was a joke. I don't charge for house calls."

"I do not wish to pry, Healer, but I wonder how long you will be staying on Vulcan."

"Why?"

She looked him in the eye. "I could teach you some mental shielding."

McCoy sighed. "Damn. No matter how I try, everybody seems to know what's going on in my head. I hope I haven't offended you."

Mah'Lee's voice quieted. "I sense your emotions, not your thoughts. And, though I try to maintain your privacy, I can sense a
bonding as well. Would you learn from me?"

McCoy paused for a moment, then asked, "Can humans learn these things?"

"I do not know about humans. I would teach you."

"But...are you up to it?"

She drew herself erect but her eyes were warm. "Healer, now you offend."

McCoy smiled. "Well, Mah'Lee, I can tell you right now. You've taken on the challenge of a lifetime. I'll see you later."

He went down to the cafeteria and got a cup of tea. It was a horrid, Vulcan blend but he was getting used to it by now. He took a corner seat and concentrated on keeping his eyes down. There were only a few others in the cafeteria, but he had come to learn that it was not considered polite to even say hello unless he had something else, of more importance, to say too. Many Vulcans, he'd noticed, didn't even greet you at all but just walked up and launched into some monologue.

He rubbed his eyes. Strangely enough, he did not feel tired, despite the interrupted sleep and all the dreams of the last nights. His previous visits to Vulcan had always left him with a nagging weariness which he'd associated with the higher gravity and the terribly unexciting company.

A shadow fell across the table. He looked up into the face of a light-haired Vulcan. "Pardon if I intrude," he said.

"You're not intruding. Can I help you with something?" McCoy asked.

"I have noted you in the hospital. I am Soltar, a physician here."

"Dr. Leonard McCoy. Nice to meet you."

"I am honoured to greet you, Dr. McCoy."

I bet, McCoy thought grumpily. Out loud, he asked, "Would you care to join me?"

Soltar seated himself. "Since our paths have crossed so often, I wondered if I might be of any assistance to you."

Nosy old goat, McCoy said to himself. He managed a slight smile and said, "I'm doing some research here. Are you a general practitioner, sir?"

"I specialize in cardiology, Dr. McCoy," Soltar said. "I do not often see Humans other than Federation military personnel. How long will you be staying on Vulcan?"

"I think I'll be here for a while yet." McCoy took a sip of his tea and found it was worse than horrid when cold. "I'm working with a Vulcan scientist."

"Then you already have assistance. Forgive me for my intrusion." Soltar stood and took a step to leave.

McCoy looked up. "No, you're not intruding. I could use some company." He waited until Soltar had re-seated himself, then said. "I've had some surgical experience with a Vulcan cardiovascular system. Are you a surgeon?"

"I have performed surgery when necessary."

"I find the five chambers of the Vulcan heart interesting. Human hearts have only four."

"Normal human blood pressure is also higher than Vulcan, is it not?"

"Normally. I've often wondered how we can have such different cardiovascular systems, yet exist in very similar atmospheres."

Soltar considered this, then nodded. "I find that an intriguing thought, Dr. McCoy. I have never visited earth but I understand Vulcans can acclimate to it with little trouble. And, obviously, I see you here with no apparent ill effect. I would think that your heart would require more oxygen than this planet provides."

"As a Vulcan should get heady on the glut of oxygen in earth atmosphere, but they don't."

Soltar nodded. "I would be most fascinated to pursue this topic with you. I am due in my office in four point three minutes. Perhaps, later, you are unoccupied?"

McCoy picked a number out of the air. "Fourteen hundred?"

"That is acceptable, Dr. McCoy. My office is on level two, ward seven." Soltar took his leave.

McCoy watched him go, then regarded his empty glass. "Oh, what the hell," he mumbled and got up to refill his cup.

CHAPTER SIX

McCoy had not seen the house on the hill for forty-five years. It's dusky red paint and isolation among the trees gave it a rustic, cabin look, though, indeed, it stood three stories and had seventeen rooms. He was down below, in the river that spanned the valley, skating on the ice that hung heavy over churning water. He hadn't skated for forty-five years either. Strange, how these things went. The feel of the blades scraping was as familiar as if he'd been skating only yesterday. The winter was strong and crisp in his nose.

He skated past the clump of trees where he'd once had a tire swing and the house came into view again. The windows were all dark. Usually the kitchen light was on and his mother, cooking supper, would wave to him.

A wind gust chilled his face and ears. A few snowflakes came down from the sky, the promise of a storm. He skated faster, breathing hard in the icy air, but the house seemed no nearer. There, again, the same clump of trees, and he pushed harder only to move seemingly nowhere. The trees did not move. Suddenly the ice heaved up ahead. In the dim light a face stared back at him. He gasped at himself under the ice, his arms outstretched towards the surface, the skin throttled and blue.

He heard voices and saw children dancing wildly on the shore and their voices rang over the frozen river.

"Fire and ice and the joy of wild birth because we all live with witches."

McCoy jumped up. He was sitting in bed, the covers wrapped around his legs, and the heat hit his face like a fiery wet towel. He'd barely caught his breath when a loud bang roared through the house.

He jumped out of bed and ran, crashing into V'Rhsal at the stairs down to the lab.

"What the HELL was that?" McCoy started but the Vulcan was taking the steps three at a time.

McCoy followed more slowly, coughing on plaster dust that choked the air. He came suddenly upon the Vulcan at the entrance to the first cleared room. McCoy glanced over V'Rhsal's shoulder.

"My God..."

Debris filled the room. The plant they'd been growing from the computer model lay scattered in brown chunks. The computer terminal lay on its side, the monitor blinking a dim blue.

V'Rhsal righted the computer and tried the keyboard. "The terminal has sustained a bad jar but the memory is intact. Voice mode does not work."

"What could have happened?" McCoy asked.

"Perhaps the computer can tell us." V'Rhsal manually punched up a string of codes. The terminal cleared but the memory responded slowly to the Vulcan's promptings. Finally a run of numbers crawled along the bottom of the screen.

V'Rhsal frowned. "According to memory, the molecular chain was the cause of the explosion."

"You're kidding," McCoy said. "The plant exploded? It was a simple chemical chain! How could it blow up?"

The Vulcan paused as he considered the numbers and codes. "We set up the molecular chain to exactly replicate the computer tracings of my brain stem. According to memory, there was energy contained in the tracing model."

McCoy kneeled on the floor, careful of the soggy, brown debris. "Energy? Where?"

"A moment, Leonard." V'Rhsal prompted the terminal again. "Our plant model copied every chemical base and atom structure, on a much larger scale. Apparently the brain stem stores energy in...pockets, I suppose for its own use. One of the pockets was weak and its containment was breached. That breach caused the explosion."

McCoy glanced around. "But, V'Rhsal, I checked the scan on your brain. You had no weak blood vessels, no aneurysms."

"Blood vessels are not plant tissues."

McCoy fell into a sitting position. "Good Lord, if we're all walking around with energy like this stored in our brains, it's a wonder we don't all explode!"

"Leonard, don't be so melodramatic. The model is four hundred and three times larger than a normal-sized brain stem."

"Well forgive me, V'Rhsal, but we've been down in this lab a lot. We could have been down here when the pocket went! Do you realize that?"

"Leonard, calm yourself. That did not happen. We will have to be more cautious."

"Cautious of what? We're working in the complete unknown here! How do we know what to be cautious of?"

"The energy released indicates that one of the larger pockets exploded. If there are further explosions, they should not be so substantial."

McCoy scowled. "So, what are we talking about? Just the loss of an arm or leg?"

"Leonard, there is no need of sarcasm either."

"V'Rhsal, we were planning on using this thing as a model for disrupting and re-routing neural impulses. Have you ever heard of osmosis?"

"It is a biological tendency to equalize chemical and electrical concentrations between the interior and exterior of a cell."

"I don't mean to be a killjoy but what do you think could happen if we re-route an electrical impulse away from a 'pocket' of energy?"

"Possible breach of the cell wall as the electrical concentrations attempt to equalize. However, Leonard, it is a merely a possible consequence. Many cells are semi-permeable, allowing one way flow only."

"But we don't know and we CAN'T know except by trial and error. It would be like having a box of candles with a few sticks of T.N.T. mixed in, and then sitting around in the dark and lighting them with your teeth."

The Vulcan keyed in a few more commands. "Leonard, this is not comparable to trinitrotoluene. The energy stored is intense but clean. Its release caused no biologically harmful effects in terms of residue. There are no toxins in the air beyond the plaster dust from the casings in the walls."

McCoy picked up a bit of the plant. "Look at this poor thing. It's been literally ripped open from inside out."

"We will have to grow it again. Perhaps if we tried a step or two up the molecular chain...." The Vulcan shut off the computer.

"V'Rhsal, even if I give all these pockets of energy the benefit of the doubt, and we disrupt a neural trail nine times and nothing happens, it only means that we'll get an explosion on our tenth try. We will breach another pocket wall. That could cause more damage. I mean, this is not only your house but your wife's as well. What's she going to say when she comes home and finds half her walls in orbit?"

"I have measurements of the energy released from this explosion. I will design a containment field for this level of energy, which should be more than sufficient for the consequences of any other breaches."

The Vulcan started cleaning up the plant debris. He righted a table, then said softly, "Leonard, what is that you are thinking?"

McCoy scowled. "I've got a name for them. 'But, oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day. If your Snark be a Boojum, for then. You will softly and suddenly vanish away and never be met with again. For although common Snarks do no manner of harm, yet I feel it my duty to say, some are Boojums......'"

The Vulcan looked puzzled. "That reference has no meaning for me."

McCoy looked up. "It will."

---

McCoy jolted awake with the image of the empty house in his eyes and the feel of the winter cold on his skin. He sat up and tried to calm his lungs, then felt the twinge in his mind that told him the Vulcan was awake.

He pulled on some pants and padded downstairs. The lights were dim in the room where the plant tissue was growing. It groaned under its own weight and pulsed with lightning flashes of nerve impulses that flashed along its tendrils and were gone in a blink. It shivered where it neared the walls. The roots rustled underneath like the sounds of a hundred mice. McCoy could no longer find the floor, or even half of the walls.

Whenever he stepped near it, or shone a light towards it, it cringed back into the darkness and groaned at him.

It frankly scared McCoy to be alone with it. Oddly enough, it didn't seem to bother V'Rhsal in the least. He stepped over it, through it, and even on it, without a second look. He was standing, now, in the middle of two huge roots that led into the bulk growing in the next room. He was unclothed, as was his sleeping habit, indicating that he had probably just awakened.

"What are you doing up?" McCoy whispered, looking carefully at anything but V'Rhsal. "Is something going on?"

The Vulcan shook his head. "No, Leonard. I am simply checking on the plant tissue."

McCoy shivered, utterly spooked. "Let's hope we don't find another weak pocket. I'd hate to have it explode right now."

"It is within the containment field."

"Yeah, and so are we. You're down here all the time, lately. What are you doing? Communing with it?"

"Hardly. It is just a plant."

"Modeled on your brain stem. You must feel some empathy."

"Interesting thought, Leonard. Perhaps if we did a tracing on my cerebral cortex, I could actually communicate with myself."

McCoy stared at V'Rhsal. "Was that a joke?"

"I fear you are contaminating me."

McCoy smiled. "If I am, it can only be to your benefit." He waded through some plant tissue. "Can we hurt this thing by being here?"

"I do not think so. This one is stronger," V'Rhsal gently touched a tendril.

The doctor found a clear spot and sat down. "I know this is four hundred and three times to scale, but some of these plant 'nerves' are so minute I need a microscope to see them. It's...awe-inspiring. We are literally growing part of a brain." An impulse flashed by McCoy, as if reacting to his words. "Though I have to admit, it gives me the creeps."

"Strange perception, Leonard. In your surgical career you have had contact with brain tissue."

"But it never outweighed me." McCoy rubbed his eyes. "V'Rhsal, I can sense some disturbance. Why are you up, really?"

"We are bond. I dream your dreams. What is the significance of the house?"

McCoy shrugged. "It's the house in which I grew up. I don't know why I'm dreaming about it."

"As we are both awake, perhaps we could dress and go to the hospital to check on our rats."

"Good idea. Poor things," McCoy said. "They're pretty sick."

"Ironic, Leonard, that as a doctor you find it easier to cause a disease than to cure it."

"Go get dressed," McCoy muttered. "...smart ass..."

---

One of the rats had died. McCoy gently lifted the small animal from the cage and ran a scanner over it.

V'Rhsal looked over the doctor's shoulder. "Cause of death, Leonard?"

McCoy laid the rat on the table. "Primary - Congestive Heart Failure. Secondary - progression of Khlabar-type symptoms."

The Vulcan regarded the rat without touching it. "I would say that your synthetic bug is a success."

"...whoopie," McCoy mumbled.

"I am curious, Leonard. Is it possible for iron-based blood types to be infected with Khlabar?"

"I would doubt it."

"Yet the symptoms and progression of Khlabar are apparent in these red-blooded rats."

"Yes, they are," McCoy nodded.

"How is that possible, Leonard?"

McCoy washed his hands. "It's possible because these rats really have Cere-myelitis, which is a distinctly human condition."

At the Vulcan's uncomprehending look, McCoy added, "Inflammation of the cerebellar cortex. It is caused by a virus which first enters and inflames the respiratory tract. Mode of transmission from the lungs to the central nervous system is, to this day, still unknown. You don't see much of it in humans now because we found a way to prevent it about one hundred and fifty years ago."

"Not a cure?"

McCoy shook his head. "No, we never did pursue a cure since our prevention methods almost completely eradicated it. It's part of our wide-spectrum booster shots. I thought of it after I did a few rounds with some physicians here. Do you know of a kissar-adept, Mah'Lee?"

V'Rhsal nodded. "Most Vulcans do. She is highly-regarded."

"She let me examine her. I noticed that her eyes had trouble making 'pursuit' movements, which are how the eyes follow moving objects. Also she had trouble keeping muscles in steady, contracted positions. The walking brace she uses is a terrible problem because she can't always maintain a hold on it."

"Leonard, Vulcan physicians know that Khlabar affects the cerebellum."

"Right, and it does that by interrupting messages to and from the thalamus, messages that are carried through nerve impulses that use 6-hydroseron as a neurotransmitter. Now, Cere-myelitis also affects thalamic messages but it does so by inhibiting the enzyme that breaks down the neurotransmitters after neuron excitement. That is the only difference I could find between Cere-myelitis and Khlabar, but I'm not sure if that truly is a difference at all."

"Then, you do not believe that Khlabar is inherited?"

McCoy shrugged. "I don't have any evidence to support it. On the other hand, I don't have any evidence against it. It would help if I could get hold of a few autopsy reports on victims of Khlabar."

"Why have you not done so?" V'Rhsal asked.

"I've tried. I've made several written requests to T'Pall, the Hospital Administrator, but all have come back with that big red stamp "Permission Denied". Apparently, she doesn't feel the need to explain why I can't see these reports."

V'Rhsal thought for a moment. "You may need permission from the family of the deceased to open archived medical files."

McCoy scowled. "And would I have to go through T'Pall for those names too? She won't even grant me a meeting with her."

"I will ask her, Leonard."

"Will she speak to you?"

V'Rhsal raised an eyebrow. "I would think so. I am her son."

McCoy stared at the Vulcan. "She's your Mother?"

"Is that not what I just said, Leonard?"

"Then you haven't, by the way, mentioned that I happen to be working with you for the next three years? Her secretary won't even let me place a call to her."

"Accept my apologies, Leonard, but my family has had little contact with humans and I have little contact with my family."

"Little contact as in none?"

"Perhaps."

"What's so bad about humans anyway?"

V'Rhsal stood. "Vulcan has a distrust of aliens. Our history is one of constant struggle against alien invaders. Some on Vulcan feel that alien contact of any kind is potentially harmful."

"And does your family feel that way?" McCoy persisted.

V'Rhsal paused. "I cannot answer for my family. I do not wish that you should judge Vulcans too harshly, Leonard. Humans are unpredictable. Their often irrational, emotional behaviour makes them potentially dangerous to those Vulcans whose logical outlook prefers prediction of reaction. What cannot be reasonably foreseen may disrupt harmony and calm."

McCoy covered the little rat, then checked the others in the cage. "Being Vulcan, V'Rhsal, I'm sure you don't mind a bit of harmony and calm."

"Leonard, I have had no occasion to regret linking to you since you have stopped feeling pity for yourself. In fact, I find it not unpleasant."

McCoy eyed V'Rhsal uncertainly for a moment, then abruptly rose. "The sun's coming up. I think I'll go down to the wards and check on Mah'Lee. She claims to be an early riser. I'll see if she was telling the truth or trying to put one over on me."

---

Mah'Lee was in a sunroom. A heavy shawl covered her small body and a blanket lay draped over her feet. On the floor, sitting quietly, were two small children.

Upon McCoy's arrival, one of the children looked up and said, "Yahoo, cowboy!"

The elderly Vulcan woman glanced at the child, then at McCoy. "Thee has had contact with my son's issue, Healer?"

McCoy stopped dead in his tracks, wondering if he'd, yet again, inadvertently, somehow insulted another Vulcan.

She waited for an answer. Finally, McCoy said, "I uh...may have read them a story or two. I didn't know they were of your family. I did not mean offense." Oh hell, he thought. Are all these damned Vulcans related or what?

The other child looked between McCoy and Mah'Lee, then asked softly, "Will Dokkar MacKoy complete the story about the tigger and the piglet?"

He sat down across from Mah'Lee. "I don't know if your grandmother would approve."

"I would wish to hear, Healer," Mah'lee said, surprising McCoy.

"Oh...sure. Where were we?"

"At the forest," said the girl.

"Oh, right, Piglet was walking through the forest when--"

"What is a forest?" asked the girl.

McCoy eyed her, then said, "Try to imagine so many trees that you can't see past them and their leaves block out the sun." McCoy scratched his cheek, trying to remember the rest of the story. "Anyway, Piglet was walking through the forest when suddenly Tigger jumped out of a tree and bounced him."

"Define bounce," the boy said.

McCoy squinted. "Pardon?"

"Bounce is an action, Dokkar?" the girl enquired.

"Like this." McCoy got up and hopped a few times, feeling rather silly. "That's bouncing. Tigger bounced Piglet and Piglet, being a very small animal, was very frightened."

"Frightened?" the boy interrupted.

McCoy blinked. "It's...um...a..." He eyed the three completely impassive faces before him and said, "Forget I said frightened. Piglet was not frightened. Piglet was a girl animal and Tigger was a boy animal and the two of them approached their parents. Tigger became a diplomat and Piglet earned her degree in astro-physics and their parents approved of their union so they joined minds and were married and had many children and lived a long, prosperous life together. The end."

The children looked at each other and frowned. The girl, hesitantly, said, "Dokkar MacKoy, we preferred your other stories."

McCoy couldn't help smiling. He noticed Mah'Lee studying him. When he looked up, she said, "I notice thy command of Vulcan tongue has improved greatly."

Another 'wonderful' effect of the mind link with V'Rhsal, McCoy thought glumly, hoping that he wasn't broadcasting the link so freely to her as he apparently did on the Enterprise to Spock. "I really came here to see how you were doing with that new medication."

"I do not complain, Healer."

"I know you don't complain," McCoy retorted. "And that's my chief complaint with you, that you never complain!"

She drew herself up with an austere gesture but her eyes were soft. "If it will please you, I will attempt to complain in the future."

"See that you do," McCoy muttered. "I'll see you later, madam. I'll be doing rounds with your doctor again."

Mah'Lee drew the blanket closer around her feet. "And will I receive a bill for all the visits with which you honour me?"

"Do you think you could afford my fees?" McCoy chuckled. "I'm quite pricy."

She considered for a moment, then sent the children from the room. "I could offer something in return."

McCoy shook his head. "It was a joke. I don't charge for house calls."

"I do not wish to pry, Healer, but I wonder how long you will be staying on Vulcan."

"Why?"

She looked him in the eye. "I could teach you some mental shielding."

McCoy sighed. "Damn. No matter how I try, everybody seems to know what's going on in my head. I hope I haven't offended you."

Mah'Lee's voice quieted. "I sense your emotions, not your thoughts. And, though I try to maintain your privacy, I can sense a bonding as well. Would you learn from me?"

McCoy paused for a moment, then asked, "Can humans learn these things?"

"I do not know about humans. I would teach you."

"But...are you up to it?"

She drew herself erect but her eyes were warm. "Healer, now you offend."

PART SEVEN

He went down to the cafeteria and got a cup of tea. It was a horrid, Vulcan blend but he was getting used to it by now. He took a corner seat and concentrated on keeping his eyes down. There were only a few others in the cafeteria, but he had come to learn that it was not considered polite to even say hello unless he had something else, of more importance, to say too. Many Vulcans, he'd noticed, didn't even greet you at all but just walked up and launched into some monologue.

He rubbed his eyes. Strangely enough, he did not feel tired, despite the interrupted sleep and all the dreams of the last nights. His previous visits to Vulcan had always left him with a nagging weariness which he'd associated with the higher gravity and the terribly unexciting company.

A shadow fell across the table. He looked up into the face of a light-haired Vulcan. "Pardon if I intrude," he said.

"You're not intruding. Can I help you with something?" McCoy asked.

"I have noted you in the hospital. I am Soltar, a physician here."

"Dr. Leonard McCoy. Nice to meet you."

"I am honoured to greet you, Dr. McCoy."

I bet, McCoy thought grumpily. Out loud, he asked, "Would you care to join me?"

Soltar seated himself. "Since our paths have crossed so often, I wondered if I might be of any assistance to you."

Nosy old goat, McCoy said to himself. He managed a slight smile and said, "I'm doing some research here. Are you a general practitioner, sir?"

"I specialize in cardiology, Dr. McCoy," Soltar said. "I do not often see Humans other than Federation military personnel. How long will you be staying on Vulcan?"

"I think I'll be here for a while yet." McCoy took a sip of his tea and found it was worse than horrid when cold. "I'm working with a Vulcan scientist."

"Then you already have assistance. Forgive me for my intrusion." Soltar stood and took a step to leave.

McCoy looked up. "No, you're not intruding. I could use some company." He waited until Soltar had reseated himself, then said. "I've had some surgical experience with a Vulcan cardiovascular system. Are you a surgeon?"

"I have performed surgery when necessary."

"I find the five chambers of the Vulcan heart interesting. Human hearts have only four."

"Normal human blood pressure is also higher than Vulcan, is it not?"

"Normally. I've often wondered how we can have such different cardiovascular systems, yet exist in very similar atmospheres."

Soltar considered this, then nodded. "I find that an intriguing thought, Dr. McCoy. I have never visited earth but I understand Vulcans can acclimate to it with little trouble. And, obviously, I see you here with no apparent ill effect. I would think that your heart would require more oxygen than this planet provides."

"As a Vulcan should get heady on the glut of oxygen in earth atmosphere, but they don't."

Soltar nodded. "I would be most fascinated to pursue this topic with you. I am due in my office in four point three minutes. Perhaps, later, you are unoccupied?"

McCoy picked a number out of the air. "Fourteen hundred?"

"That is acceptable, Dr. McCoy. My office is on level two, ward seven." Soltar took his leave.

McCoy watched him go, then regarded his empty glass. "Oh, what the hell," he mumbled and got up to refill his cup.

---

McCoy knew he was a willing but very dense student to Mah'Lee. He grasped only the barest essentials of mind-shielding, probably much less than a child. He could construct a shield of sorts, but maintaining it was akin to the sensation of holding his tongue on a battery. The afternoon visit with Soltar went better. Soltar was a sociable Vulcan, very curious about humans, and McCoy found him pleasant company. He got home late to an empty house and took the opportunity to enjoy a long, sonic shower. When V'Rhsal was too near, the link was a constant reminder. Apart, McCoy felt his thoughts were more his own, his feelings less intrusive to the Vulcan.

He woke barely two hours after falling asleep, and laid there for another hour before it registered that he wasn't tired. V'Rhsal had returned. In his mind, he sensed the Vulcan asleep. After checking the plant, he left the house and returned to the hospital. McCoy didn't know if he was consciously trying to avoid the Vulcan, but he knew he needed a chance to breathe. He'd always been a private man, even with those closest to him. The feeling that he must try to help those who suffered from Khlabar was not always enough to compensate for being a walking, open window.

He fed the rats, then holed up in V'Rhsal's office and worked on the computer. It was well into the afternoon when he heard a slight tap on the door.

"Come in."

At the sight of Mah'Lee, painfully crouched over her walking brace, McCoy jumped up and escorted her to a chair. "Good Lord, woman! What are you doing?"

She eyed him sternly. "When the pupil does not come to his teacher, the teacher must go to him."

McCoy sat down beside her. "I don't want to tire you."

"Do not lie to me, Healer."

He sighed. "Ok. I don't think I can learn these things."

"You give up easily. I wonder that your bondmate does not teach you these things herself."

"Ah, yes, my bondmate," McCoy said. "Now there's a story."

"Another work of fiction?" Mah'Lee queried.

"Just an expression. Mah'Lee, think logically. Could there be any Vulcan-born woman on this planet who would ever remotely consider marrying a crusty, old human like me?"

She thought for a long moment, then replied, "Healer, it is not outside the realm of possibility."

"Mah'Lee, I'm linked with a man, not a woman."

When she didn't say anything, McCoy reiterated, "It's two men."

"A bonding is a bonding. Why does your bondmate not teach you how to shield?"

"It's not...I'm not..." McCoy tried. AI came here with good intentions. I was going to do a little research project and I agreed to a link with a fellow scientist. All of a sudden, I'm bonded. I have no idea how. And he tells me that it's my fault too. Mah'Lee, just what is the difference between a mindlink and a bond?"

"With a link, you open your mind to another. With a bond, you open your heart."

McCoy thought of V'Rhsal's absent wife, Sah'Sheer. "But it can be broken."

"Sometimes a marriage is wrong. Yes, a bonding can be broken."

"How do I turn it into a link?"

"Healer, you are linked."

McCoy took a breath and asked carefully, "How do I turn it into just a link?"

She frowned. "If you are bond or if you are linked, what is the difference? You will still achieve your purpose."

"The difference is that everybody and his mother seems to know what's going on in my head. I've been on Vulcan before. I've never encountered this."

"Healer, your bonding is sensed, but a link would be just as obvious. I would teach you how to shield so that you may walk in peace in public, not so that you may shut away from your partner. Do you not trust him to whom you are joined?"

"If I don't, I've taken a helluva gamble."

"He must trust you."

McCoy looked away in silence.

After some time, Mah'Lee gently touched his arm. "Student, let us begin the lesson once more."

---

Kirk's face filled the computer screen. "That civil war petered out. A few rebels and they push the panic button to the Federation. And so, Bones, we're still on that damned milk run. I've got trainees coming out of the duct work. You'll be happy to know that we have missed you because no one else has a key to your brandy chest. That Vulcan physician, Stirl, and I have had a few games of chess. Of course, I haven't won any of them. I think he wonders why we have so many shrinks on board. We were going over the duty roster and he kept asking me why it took him and seven psychiatrists to replace you." McCoy smiled upon hearing this.

Kirk yawned. "I don't have any other news for you. I'm looking forward to getting a tape from you though. Uhura says that your teaming up with V'Rhsal is a popular topic on Starfleet channels. Commodore Chow calls V'Rhsal 'The Glaciator'. She threw an award ceremony, in honour of his winning the Galactic Designation of High Scientific Achievement, and she says it was the most dismal party she'd ever been to, thanks to him. Chow says he can out-Vulcan T'Pau. Anyway, she's started a betting pool on how long you'll be able to stand him before you bail. I've got ten credits on this myself." Kirk's voice quieted. "I've had a couple of talks with Stirl. He seemed surprised that you were researching Khlabar. He says it can't be cured. He also mentioned that V'Rhsal's father recently died from Khlabar." Kirk looked directly at the screen. "Bones, I haven't heard much good about this. Remember, you can always come home."

The tape ended. McCoy leaned back from the computer screen and closed his eyes, listening to the sand pound the windows. He stayed quiet until, some time later, he heard the front door and steps in the hall.

The unspoken thought echoed in his mind. leonard, am i disturbing you?

no

my mother wishes to meet you before she allows you to examine autopsy reports

fair enough

the day after tomorrow

McCoy opened his eyes as the Vulcan continued down the hall and went into his room. It was dark out, and dark in the room except for the blue light from the computer screen. Depressed people live in dark places, he thought. Textbook case.

He got up and flicked on every light in the room. The sand still pounded but he could no longer see it. Damn sand. Damn sand everywhere he went, on the sidewalks, the paths, tracking on his feet down the hospital corridors. Damn sand. Damn hot weather. Damn Vulcans every goddamn place he went.

McCoy laid down on his bed and his eyes caught sight of a book on the bedside table, Fibres of the Auricles. A real book, a loan from Soltar. He had to admit, Soltar was a gracious host. They'd spent another afternoon together and the time had passed rather enjoyably. Two doctors discussing the medical aspects of hearts. Would have bored Jim right up the wall and down the other side. Soltar pouring tea and talking of the ventricles and the aorta...a tall man who reminded McCoy of Sarek. A Vulcan who was not afraid of humans and conversed with a glint of humour in the dark eyes. McCoy had tried some of the shielding techniques with Soltar that Mah'Lee had very patiently drilled into him. He didn't - probably couldn't - know whether or not he'd managed any kind of shield but Soltar hadn't reacted to him with that abrupt withdrawal that every other Vulcan around seemed to employ. Which reminded him...

McCoy gently reached through the link.

am i disturbing you?

V'Rhsal took some time to respond and he seemed hesitant.

you are not disturbing me. leonard, where have you been these past few days?

why?

there is some difference between us

damnit i hope so after all i've been through...why the hell didn't you tell me i was running around like a bloody transmitting antennae? all the time i thought vulcans were avoiding me because i didn't have pointed ears.

there may be that aspect too

children didn't avoid me

children are not adults

children are not mentally mature enough to sense bonds, are they?

Pause, then...

you are correct

but adult vulcans sense them. they sensed you! they were avoiding me in an attempt to give me some privacy.

i concede the point, leonard

then why didn't you teach me how to shield?

humans cannot learn such techniques. i--

McCoy shut him out. So completely, like a hangar door slammed shut, and the Vulcan was gone. Mah'Lee, you're a better teacher than you know, McCoy thought with some satisfaction.

McCoy gave the Vulcan five minutes, then opened the veritable flood gates. But he was greeted with...nothing.

v'rhsal?

yes, leonard

don't you have anything to say?

you are a remarkable human

say anything, v'rhsal, but don't you dare patronize me!

leonard, i would never dishonour you in such a way

i don't know whether to believe you or not. you don't know what it feels like to be walking around like i have!

is that what you think?

Another wall opened and McCoy found a whole ocean of emotions. Some floated on the top of the water but the deepest ones had been driven far below the surface. And he saw what he hadn't understood before. Vulcans were like rowers in a boat on dangerous waters, spending their time looking down at themselves. Sometimes the water cleared and there was a glimpse but mostly the water was too deep to penetrate and too strong to learn how to swim. They spent their time trying to keep their boat on an even keel.

McCoy felt a strange awe.

v'rhsal...vulcans are as flesh and blood as humans

such are our secrets, leonard

McCoy turned off the lights and closed his eyes.

---

McCoy, halfway down the stairs to the underground, was hip-deep in plant life.

"Do you think it's finally finished growing?"

V'Rhsal's head popped up from somewhere far below. "Computer tracings read complete."

McCoy stared around. Brown and green plant tendrils formed a lush undergrowth that comprised three rooms, two hallways, and most of the stairwell. The roots branched into a thousand different paths and the stems looped upwards in a four foot mass.

"So this is a brain stem," McCoy whispered. The plant tissue nearest him contracted away from his words.

V'Rhsal scanned it. "Weight is seven hundred point eight five three kilograms. Length...immeasurable by my scanner."

He lowered his equipment and frankly stared around him. "Fascinating."

The neural field generator was complete. It was a sleek, beautiful instrument which V'Rhsal had laboured on far into the night. Now the tissue was ready as well.

"Any weak pockets of energy?" McCoy questioned.

"I have no way of knowing, Leonard."

McCoy sat on a step. "Are there gaps between 'dendrites'? If a nerve impulse starts at one place, are we going to be able to scan for synapse excitement along it's path from 'neuron' to 'neuron'?"

"If the computer grew an exact replica, then, in theory, there should be synapses in here."

"I can't see any gaps. It looks like one long vine from end to end."

V'Rhsal waded towards the doctor. "I think the synapses are too small for our eyes to see."

McCoy frowned. "Then, if we start disrupting impulse paths, how are we going to know which ones they really are?"

The Vulcan managed to squeeze onto the step beside McCoy. "We will have to rely on the computer to follow the path of excitement."

McCoy gently touched a green tendril. It shivered at his touch but did not contract. "V'Rhsal, it's...humming. I don't know, there's some sort of vibration."

The Vulcan glanced over. "It believe it is talking to itself. You told me that the brain is never at 'rest'. There is always nervous activity."

"This thing spooks me."

V'Rhsal gave McCoy a sympathetic look but said nothing.

"I guess we're ready to do some serious work, fellow researcher," McCoy commented.

"Is that humour, Leonard? I have been...serious since we started."

"God, don't I know." McCoy tried to touch another tendril but it shied away from him. "If we can disrupt those paths which use 6-hydroseron, and if those paths are not major routes for any other neural transmitter, and if we can build 'bridges' around those specific pathways with the neural field generator, perhaps we can teach the brain to reroute its own neural impulses."

"Simple," V'Rhsal said.

"Now that's humour."

"Sarcasm, Leonard. I learned from you."

McCoy smiled quickly. "Can we disrupt impulses from outside the containment field you built in case of explosion?"

"Yes."

"Really?" McCoy studied V'Rhsal.

"Yes, Leonard. I figured out a way to do so last night."

"Is the containment field strong enough?"

"The use will be the test."

"How comforting."

V'Rhsal stood. "More sarcasm. Leonard, when we meet with my mother, I trust you will be more restrained."

"I thought you told me I wasn't supposed to say anything."

"The expressions on your face are words enough."

McCoy followed the Vulcan up the stairs. "V'Rhsal, why can't I speak directly to her? Why must I go through the meld with you?"

"Because you are an unbonded male and, since my father's death, she is an unbonded female. Old customs restrict private discourse between unbonded Vulcans who are not of the same family. My mother is...old-fashioned."

"I'm not Vulcan and, thanks to you, I'm not exactly unbonded." The last word fell flat. "She may sense that I'm bonded. God knows, every other Vulcan around me sensed it."

"Your shielding techniques have proved effective lately, especially with me. She may not sense the bonding. She does know, however, that we have linked minds. She has agreed to speak to you only if I, in fact, speak for you. She will allow you in the room with her, but that is all."

As they got into the flyer, McCoy said, "V'Rhsal, this isn't easy for you either, is it?"

The Vulcan did not look at McCoy, but it didn't matter if he did or not any more. McCoy could feel every mental nuance when they were physically so close to each other.

"My mother and I have not spoken since my father's death."

"I'm sorry to put you through this."

V'Rhsal lifted a disdainful eyebrow. "Do you or do you not wish access to those autopsy reports?"

"I don't believe the ends are always worth the means, that's all."

"Leonard, you have a right to those reports. Access denied simply because you are human is--"

"Oh, so you admit it! Finally!"

V'Rhsal turned to McCoy and found the human wearing a wide grin.

"V'Rhsal, I told you so. I told you so," McCoy said in a little sing-song voice.

"Leonard, perhaps you should practice being silent so that you will be in good form for my mother."

"Fine. I'll close my mouth. I'll just sit here and think."

PART EIGHT

T'Pall's chambers were absent of any personal items. Save a desk, a cabinet, and the carpet, her office was bare. T'Pall herself was a thin, black-haired woman with a stark profile.

"Leave us," she said to her secretary as McCoy and V'Rhsal entered the room.

The young male secretary nodded and shut the door behind him.

V'Rhsal kept his eyes down as he took a single step into the room. McCoy noticed that his mother did not greet him.

"May I speak with you, En'T'Pall?" V'Rhsal asked in a formal tone.

"Speak Kór V'Rhsal."

V'Rhsal raised his eyes. "Our request is known to you."

T'Pall studied McCoy coldly. Undaunted, he eyed her back, bracing his mental shields.

After her close scrutiny, she said, "I have already denied permission."

ask her why, McCoy told V'Rhsal.

V'Rhsal's mouth tightened but he said only, "We have come in person to ask you once more."

"By what logic do you feel your presence will alter my answer?"

"I considered that you might not know who this Healer is."

"Should I open private Vulcan family concerns to human inspection?"

"This physician is respected not only on his world but on ours. He wishes such information as he needs for his work here. He understands our code of silence."

"I do not know him."

tell her T'Pau will give me a reference

At the thought, V'Rhsal glanced quickly at McCoy but said, "En'T'Pall does not have the acquaintance of Ambassador Sarek, yet his character is well known on Vulcan."

T'Pall was quiet for a long moment. Finally, she said, "Kór V'Rhsal, is your request on behalf of this human based solely on logic or do this human's thoughts pervade your mind?"

V'Rhsal ignored the question. "His request is logical. Your denial is not."

v'rhsal, don't offend your mother, huh?

leonard?

don't tell her she's being illogical, please

V'Rhsal's mouth twitched slightly, as if he was going to smile.

tell her that i wish to see ten copies of autopsy reports. tell her that all references to family, age and gender can be removed before I see them. tell her that i wish to see them for two hours, after which time i will return them, uncopied and in full, to hospital records.

V'Rhsal glanced at McCoy with a quick hint of surprise, then relayed the request out loud to T'Pall.

T'Pall weighed the request for some time before saying, "Under such conditions, I will approve the request. The doctor must wait until all reports have been modified for him."

tell her thanks

not in my lifetime, leonard

"May we take our leave of you, En'T'Pall?"

She nodded and the secretary appeared to open the door.

Before either of them took a step, however, she asked, "Kór V'Rhsal, thee are linked with a human, but are thee still Vulcan?"

McCoy felt a twinge of anger from V'Rhsal. Outwardly, there was no sign of it.

"Have I given consent to be so questioned, En'T'Pall?"

T'Pall's eyes grew colder, but she said nothing more as they left.

---

The neural field generator murmured softly within the confines of an anti-gravity field. It was a very small device. McCoy had glanced at it askance when V'Rhsal had first shown it to him. The Kelvans' projectors had been small enough to affix on their belts, but the range of voluntary nerves they affected had been limited as well. V'Rhsal's generator weighed forty grams and was the size of a small plum, yet he planned to affect over seven hundred kilograms of plant fibre with it. And he claimed it would affect the rats' nervous systems without injuring them.

The generator droned but McCoy found himself holding his breath as he sat in the kitchen upstairs, outside the containment field, watching the output on computer monitor.

"Are you ready, Leonard?"

"I suppose," he said. "I hope Dale's law holds up."

V'Rhsal looked up from the computer terminal. "Who is Dale?"

"He was a human, twentieth-century psychologist. He said that each nerve uses and reacts to one chemical transmitter only. Science has never documented an exception to his law. Hopefully, when we disrupt 6-hydroseron pathways, we won't be affecting any other neurotransmitters."

"It is illogical to hope, Leonard. We must proceed as if we will be disrupting only 6-hydroseron. If new evidence is introduced, we will consider the results of it at that time."

"V'Rhsal, need I remind you that you wanted me here because I am illogical?" McCoy eyed the monitor. "I'm going to note the readings we're picking up now as the resting state of our brain stem. When you start disrupting, I want you to affect only the first motor neuron pathway in to our plant cerebellum, and do it quickly."

"Generator set for a ten millisecond disruption," V'Rhsal said.

McCoy took a deep breath. "Ok...now."

The readings barely changed.

"Playback," V'Rhsal stated, but even at reduced speed, there was no real change.

"Go in a little deeper this time," McCoy said, "but stay at ten milliseconds disruption."

Nothing changed much again.

The Vulcan looked over at McCoy. "Leonard, if I am judging these figures correctly, I am exciting the pathway, rather than oppressing it."

"That's right, V'Rhsal."

"Leonard, isn't exciting the 6-hydroseron's route the reverse of what we wish to do?"

"V'Rhsal, nerves react to hundreds of synaptic messages at any time. Some excite, some inhibit. We are exciting the pathway, but we are doing so by hyperpolarizing, meaning we're exposing the nerve to more inhibitatory stimulation than normal. This raises the threshold of the neuron's action potential, so that it will take quite a few more excitatory impulses before 6-hydroseron is released into the synaptic cleft."

"Leonard, I do not understand. Khlabar progresses by limiting the amount of 6-hydroseron in the synapses. Now, we are doing the same."

"You're right."

At the Vulcan's look, McCoy smiled. "Trust me, V'Rhsal. When 6-hydroseron gets into the synapse, how do you think it gets out again?"

"You said that an enzyme broke it down."

"Exactly. By inhibiting the path that uses 6-hydroseron, we're also inhibiting the enzyme's activity. I've set the scanners to measure that particular enzyme level, not the level of the neuro-transmitter. It sounds odd, but we haven't been able to precisely measure the activity of 6-hydroseron because it is always somewhat active. By eliminating 6-hydroseron in the synapse, I should, in theory, be able to trace the pathway by following a complete absence of the enzyme in places where it was before." McCoy tapped the computer monitor. "After the generator has hyperpolarized, we will reverse it and polarize. That lowers the resting potential of the nerve and it will 'fire' more easily. When that happens, the enzyme level should increase and I'll have a check to the route I'm trying to trace now."

V'Rhsal was quiet for a moment, then he said, "Logical."

"Logical...and tedious," McCoy said. "That's a helluva rambling vine we've got down there. We're going to be doing this particular activity for a long, long time. And this is only the first step."

"Vulcans do not recognize tedium."

"Humans do." McCoy yawned and reset his scanner. "Ready for the next ten milliseconds."

---

Two weeks later, McCoy decided that the chair was going to become a permanent fixture on his back end, that there was nothing more God-awful on this planet than their tea, and that he was glad they'd done tracings on the cerebellum and nothing else. The path they'd finally managed to track had looped around the plant's cerebellar 'cortex', wiggled deep into the 'folds', and branched out, finally, to where McCoy assumed the thalamus would have been had the plant tissue been allowed to progress. Fortunately, they hadn't breached any pockets of energy but they had filled seven tapes with their findings and McCoy had scribbled nearly a hundred pages of notes on top of that.

Run on computer simulation, the neuro-transmitter's route materialized as a long red line that danced around the medulla and spiralled gracefully into several areas of the plant cerebellum before suddenly sprinting into the end of a root. Blue circles indicated the pockets of energy they'd found, which McCoy had named `Snarks'. There were probably hundred of Snarks they hadn't found. And, of course, many Snarks would be Boojums, weak pockets, which could explode upon breakage.

"Incredible!" McCoy whispered, awe-stricken, as he looked at the red path winding on the computer screen. "Fourteen days, twenty hours a day, to follow this path. Two hundred and eighty hours for us to trail it. And look..." He touched his finger to his nose several times. "The impulse just ran the path three times in two seconds."

V'Rhsal nodded wearily. In a flat tone, he said, "Yes, it is incredible, Leonard. Now, can you figure out a way to bridge it?"

"Typical engineer. Wanting to build bridges before knowing what the foundation's like." McCoy scowled. "Can't you just sit here for a moment and consider the impact of what we've done? We've followed a nerve impulse! We've gone end to end with it! My Good Lord, how wondrous!"

V'Rhsal tried to stifle a yawn and failed.

"Tired?" McCoy asked with a grin.

"Leonard, can you bridge this pathway?"

McCoy shrugged. "It's not just one pathway, V'Rhsal. It's many pathways. Path A is a ballistic movement impulse. Path B is a pursuit movement. Path C..."

"Leonard!"

"It's too damn complex to bridge. It would take years just to work out all the connections. I've thought of a better way." McCoy sat down by the Vulcan. "With the neural field generator, we could take any flicker of an impulse in 6-hydroseron's path and jump it onto another's transmitter's tracks, sort of like the way a train switches at points. Instead of trying to 'bridge' around the problem areas, I think it would be easier to set up points where 6-hydroseron impulses would switch to another pathway. It would still be rather complex work, but less so than our original plan. The simpler we have this, the less mistakes we'll make."

V'Rhsal nodded. "That is prudent."

McCoy stretched. "I need a break."

"I could make a pot of tea."

"No, I mean a real break. I have to get out of this kitchen."

The Vulcan eyed the doctor for a few moments, then said, "I understand you. I wonder, doctor, during all your visits to this planet, that you never visited any of our national reserves."

"I usually kept to the tourist areas."

"If you desire, I could accompany you to one of these areas. I believe the change would refresh our minds."

"Do Vulcans take leisure for leisure's sake?"

"Leonard?"

"I don't want to talk about work. I need to step back from it."

V'Rhsal raised an eyebrow but said only, "I can abide by your condition. We will leave in the morning."

---

La'Val was a protected strip of land that, to McCoy's first look, seemed to be just more desert and sand. V'Rhsal had packed backpacks of the barest items needed for survival - rations, two sleeping bags, some cooking utensils and, oddly, a small penknife. McCoy had judiciously added a medkit, more clothing, and things he would rather eat.

During their first day's hike, they'd trudged up and down sand dunes, stopping frequently in the shade of various red stone cliffs that rose sheer out of nowhere and ended just as abruptly. V'Rhsal said little. Even their link was stretched out fine, which gave McCoy an easy breath. He needed some privacy after the last two weeks.

That night, V'Rhsal cooked a bland, all-vegetable meal, which McCoy ate because he was too weary to bother with anything else. It wasn't until the second day that McCoy realized why V'Rhsal had picked this park. They came upon a stretch of sand so silky and white that McCoy felt as though he were walking on warm powder. He took off his shoes and followed the sand around a ridge of high, black rocks. There he found the shore of a pale blue lake.

"How beautiful," McCoy said, shading his eyes as he looked over the water.

"This is Alzik," V'Rhsal said. "Bodies of water comprise less than twenty percent of this planet's surface. Alzik is one of the smaller lakes and takes in from the larger lake Forr. Forr has abundant fish and wildlife. It was logical that early Vulcans first set up their cities there, and not downstream here. This shore has remained almost untouched in our civilized history."

"Do Vulcans eat fish?"

V'Rhsal almost looked shocked. "Not any more, Leonard. I said early Vulcans."

Large tufts of blue-green grass grew near the water. To his bare feet, they felt like wet wool. His toes felt like they were under a quilt, the water was so warm. Putting the cliffs at his back, McCoy looked around him. The sand arched in a curve around the inlet. Farther across the water, McCoy could see the tops of black rocks. And there was not a soul around but themselves.

"Can I go in?" McCoy asked as he turned back to V'Rhsal, but the Vulcan had already stripped off his clothing and was wading into the water.

McCoy hesitated, then did the same and splashed in. Despite being so warm, the water was invigorating. He walked in until the water was at his waist, then dove in and swam until he found a reef near the mouth of the inlet. Small, black fish darted around his legs and blue plants gently stroked his skin in the currents of the water.

V'Rhsal was near the shoreline, moving awkwardly in the water. McCoy frowned at the sight, until he remembered seeing Spock doing the same thing. Though Spock had learned to swim, he was not generally graceful in water. Vulcans were not swimmers.

McCoy pushed off the reef and floated lazily, letting the current drift him towards the sand.

are you all right? he asked through the link

of course, leonard

why don't you come out for a swim

thank you but i am fine where i am

it might help you to know that, when your lungs are filled with air, it's very hard to sink

McCoy was not graced with a response to that one. As he drifted nearer to the Vulcan, he realized that V'Rhal was keeping his back to him.

v'rhsal, did i offend you with that remark? i didn't mean to

i am not offended, leonard, but you are unclothed. i thought you would wish me to avert my eyes. you remember, we discussed this

McCoy waded onto the sand and pulled on his pants. Oddly, he didn't seem to care what the Vulcan saw of him now. They'd spent two weeks sweating beside each other in that hot kitchen and frankly, he'd thrown modesty out the door. The physical closeness had resulted in a relentless mental closeness. V'Rhsal had access to all the most intimate places of his mind and he'd been privy to a few things rather confidential to the Vulcan. Not that they'd gone poking, but memories had come up, such as those unsummoned dreams of his childhood home. It was odd that he should be thinking about that. He hadn't thought about his mother for years. She'd died soon after that winter, and her face was a foggy, childish memory in his mind.

McCoy put his back against the clammy cliff. The Vulcan had waded around the point of the inlet and was out of sight. Except for the breezes, there was not a sound.

"Wonderful..." McCoy murmured to himself and closed his eyes. It was some time later that he felt a tug in his mind.

leonard

uh huh

i have found a suitable location to set up camp. would you transport our backpacks?

McCoy didn't feel like moving.

what's wrong with where i am now?

i have found a place sheltered from the shoreline

sheltered from the where?

the water, leonard

i kind of like the water

i do not mind water myself but i would not wish to sleep beside it

why not? it's cool and pleasant here

There was a long silence.

perhaps, leonard, we should set up separate camps tonight

suits me just fine. i ain't-a movin'. ya'll just come and get yer own stuff

It took V'Rhsal over an hour to return. McCoy opened one eye and asked sardonically, "Just how far inland do you feel you have to be?"

The Vulcan frowned at the lake. "It is not wise to sleep here."

"Why? Is it dangerous?"

"There are no predators, Leonard, but the air is damp."

"It's a relief to be away from all that hot, dry atmosphere you call air back in the city."

"As you wish." The Vulcan collected his backpack and departed. He also tuned down the link, leaving the doctor to wallow in aloneness.

McCoy started a fire when the sun dimmed and Vulcan's two red moons rose over the water. He caught some kind of a fish, hoping that he wasn't breaking one of the reserve's rules by doing so, and scanned it with his tricorder. It was all right for eating but it tasted bland, as if even the fish on the planet felt they had to be boring.

Snuggled in his sleeping bag, he looked up at the moons. They looked so close it seemed they would crash into the planet any second. If it hadn't been for them, McCoy could almost imagine himself back on earth. The smell of the water in the air and the sounds of the breezes blowing through the grass reminded him of the Savannah River. The long summer days with his fishing pole and the heat-drunk black flies that he used to catch to bait his hook. Those were the blessed early days of his life, before the responsibilities of college and before those first stirrings towards girls. Those long days of lazing at river's edge, with the wet mud between his toes. The dragonflies were always a vivid blue and waterbeetles used to skim around his line. If he stayed late he could catch glimpses of couples sneaking down to neck in the tall grass. And if he stayed any later than that, he would catch the hickory switch from his father when he tried to sneak home. It was the smell of the water that was so appealing, and the rush of it around his legs. He would hop on the rocks, slippery and green from algae, until he found the best spot for fly-fishing. He never failed to bring in a granddaddy bass. The smaller ones he always threw back (they were no sport) but the bigger ones he'd take home and his stepmother would clean them and cook them up. She never seemed to mind doing that, though it was a job he hated. He hated getting his hands dirty, even then.

McCoy rolled over on his stomach and looked out over the moons' reflection. The waves beat the shore, then retreated, as if stirred up by the night. They were white-crested now, foaming as they rushed to the sand. He could not see the curve of the inlet in the dark. The absolute isolation that he'd wished for was far deeper than he'd imagined.

He delicately grazed a strand of the link and touched so suddenly the Vulcan's presence that McCoy felt a strange, joyful comfort at it. Forcing it down, he turned over and closed his eyes, but the strand still quivered from the touch.

Finally...

leonard, are you all right?

McCoy smiled in the darkness.

go to sleep. i was just checking on you.

PART NINE

The morning was bright and hot. McCoy burrowed into his sleeping bag, to escape the sun, until the heat forced him out. He checked his chronometer and found it made no sense as he still had it set to ship's time. Glancing at the sun was no help either as he was sure Vulcan days were perpetual noons.

The little black fish bumped his legs as he swam to the reef. He could almost hear his father's warning - Never swim alone, son -and he smiled at it. He wasn't alone. Such an odd feeling, after all these years. The link hummed quietly on low. There the Vulcan was, awake, though what he was doing McCoy couldn't tell. Doing whatever Vulcans do in the middle of a desert, the doctor supposed.

He went under the water. The plants were such a vivid blue-green they hurt his eyes. The sun burned on his exposed back. Scuttling back to the shade of the red cliff, McCoy packed up his things. Then, donning a visor, he picked up V'Rhsal's trail, reluctantly leaving the water behind.

The Vulcan had camped, indeed, very far away from the water, in a crevice in a sheer, black-rocked cliff that rose out of nowhere like all the others. McCoy wondered if Vulcan had suffered, or perhaps still did suffer, from violent earthquakes that upthrust the rocks so jarringly.

V'Rhsal acknowledged McCoy's presence without looking up, something the doctor had seen Spock do many times (though he'd never figured out how they did it.)

mind if i accompany you, v'rhsal?

as you wish, leonard

They trudged through the hot sand until late evening when they came to a set of tall, lopsided rocks that looked as if they'd been placed there rather than discharged from the ground. They formed a rough semi-circle, their long shadows thrown out in the dying sun. Within their bounds was a large, round rock, swept smooth by the sands. It was the ghastliest hue of blackish-green McCoy had ever seen.

what's this place, v'rhsal?

éhes vegil, the road of the ending, the place where vulcans come to remember and give sacrifice

McCoy felt a sudden sweep of dèjá vu. How many times had he heard the same tone from Spock?

thank heavens i have a medkit

V'Rhsal regarded the doctor curiously.

what kind of a sacrifice are we talking about here, v'rhsal? sheep? goats?

are those animals, leonard?

The Vulcan sounded revolted.

v'rhsal, pretend i know nothing about vulcan customs.

i don't have to pretend, leonard.

are you planning on doing something special here? explain this to me or i'm liable to get in your way.

this is the place where the seventh march of surak ended, the place of our last execution for war's sake

and who was killed?

surak

*the* surak?

V'Rhsal stood a few paces from the rock.

the road of the ending....where our chosen-sent bled to death.

who killed him?

the woman who loved him, the woman he renounced when he cast off those passions that almost destroyed all life on this planet.

The Vulcan bowed his head.

vulcan regards death as a hunter, its victim as the hunted, and the coming together as a dance between the two. so it was that she hunted and he was the hunted, and they danced the death-dance around these rocks until they came to this spot. he drew off his cloak and laid down on this rock and waited for her.

McCoy's eyes widened.

he just lay down and let her kill him?!

V'Rhsal regarded McCoy gently.

old vulcan tradition demanded it so. he had cast her off without cause. as much as she loved him, she could not return to her family without retribution for her dishonour. she had the right to take from him that which he had taken from her, which was his love and his seed. with his own family's blade, and with her hunter's screams echoing through these rocks, she carved his heart from his chest and severed his penis from his groin. leaving him to die, she took this items back to her family, and thus entered her father's house unshamed.

McCoy clapped a hand to his mouth.

leonard, you look green

of course I look green. what a lovely woman. is this a tradition that can still be invoked?

no, leonard. while it is not a common occurrence, divorce is legal on this planet, with no loss of life or...appendage.

McCoy eyed the greenish rock.

what exactly do vulcans sacrifice here now, and don't tell me if it's something i don't want to know

V'Rhsal didn't answer. Moving closer to the rock, he unhooked his backpack and laid it on the ground. He withdrew the penknife and, rolling up his sleeve, laid the blade against the inside of his elbow. Aghast, McCoy watched the Vulcan slowly push the blade of the knife deep in his arm until only the handle remained. Blood welled up around the wound. V'Rhsal closed his eyes, his face impassive, then withdrew the knife.

Bright green streamed down his arm. McCoy closed his eyes, but could not close his ears to the sharp hissing of blood striking the sun-blasted surface of the rock.

After a few moments, McCoy cautiously opened his eyes. The Vulcan still stood in the same position, bleeding onto the ground.

damn vulcans...damn rituals every damned place you go...i'll never figure this planet out!

V'Rhsal glanced at McCoy with deep, black eyes.

leonard, the death of surak is something vulcans hold inviolable. i bleed with him.

i just don't understand the violence behind these things. even your weddings are potentially fatal.

McCoy checked the Vulcan's arm.

v'rhsal, you've damaged a nerve, are you sure you did this right?

if i bleed, leonard, then i have done it correctly.

still don't see the damn point of it all

blood carries all the things we fear.

fear is an emotion.

you are correct.

The Vulcan sounded amused. McCoy poured antiseptic into the wound and started bandaging it.

you just admitted that you did this because you feared to. i thought vulcans were supposed to master their emotions, not indulge them.

i have admitted to the obvious only. what is family but blood kinship? what is plak tow but blood lust? in your human culture, are there not legends of those who healed by letting blood, those who preyed by drinking blood, those who travelled to witness the blood sports? what did you inject in the rats to make them ill but tainted blood?

you have been reading up, haven't you? i'm not denying that humans are bloodthirsty, but so, apparently, are Vulcans.

bloodthirsty...what a strange word. i relinquished some of my blood in order to honour surak and what he was, not because i enjoyed it.

i wonder sometimes.

McCoy packed his medkit and straightened his back.

i guess we'd better find ourselves a place to camp.

i must remain here and keep vigil.

vigil over what?

i am honoured to complete the ritual.

V'Rhsal sat, crosslegged on the sand, back straight, and closed his eyes as if in meditation.

"Oh Good Lord," McCoy grumbled out loud. "V'Rhsal, before you drift away on me, where can I sleep that isn't full of predators?"

He was not given an answer.

He stamped to the edge of the rock circle. "Well, if I get eaten, I can tell you, it will end our research together pretty damn quick!"

He set up a sonic screen to ward off any animals and opened some of his rations. The Vulcan remained motionless by the bloodied rock, unacknowledging of any of the doctor's actions. As the night descended and the moons drew close to the planet, McCoy huddled in his sleeping bag. The desert grew alarmingly cold after the sun had set and it both annoyed and worried him that this stupid Vulcan who wouldn't risk getting some sea spray in his lungs would sit on the cold sand all night contemplating some rock. Just as he started to get a handle on this planet, it never failed but the sheer alieness of it came back to him again.

He rolled on his back and looked up at the stars. He wondered vaguely about Jim, still stuck on that training voyage. Funny how those milk runs turned out. The first one he'd ever done during his initiation into Starfleet had been on a science vessel. The CMO was a small, harsh woman who ran her sickbay like an army training station. What was her name now? Cowling? Dowling? Carolyn something or other. An excellent doctor though. He learned far more from her than from any of his professors at medschool. She didn't give an iota about the doctors around her but she would listen quietly to any complaint by any patient at any time. He was newly separated from his wife, and still reeling, and she had absolutely no patience for it. Told him to get himself together and take care of the injured, no excuses. Turned out to be the best thing for him, though, at the time, he found her lack of consideration rather heartless. She'd taught him how to bury himself in work, how to hide the pain, but, unfortunately, not how to make it stop hurting.

Then there was the other CMO, Fergus, a hearty, big man. Casual and friendly. Always smiling. And his daughter, Rachel, small and dark with the softest, longest hair. He could still remember the feel of it on the pillow beside him, waking up with the touch of it on his cheek. Laughing, kneeling over him, her hair hanging down like a curtain to the bed. That weekend on Ceres Six, in the little prefab cabin, with the smell of damp wood and that little heater in bed with them. What happened to her? So many people come and go, losing track doctor, and when was the last time it wasn't you who left? Not since Jacqueline and the sight of little Joanna, hugging a huge suitcase. Bye, daddy. See you soon, daddy. So many echoes of her little voice in his mind, so few actual memories. He'd leave for the hospital before she awoke, come home after her bedtime. For the longest time, his only image of his daughter was the sight of her in her crib, always near the head of it. He would pull her down to the middle, thinking it couldn't be good for her to push her head against the board like that. After his coffee, he'd check once more and there she'd be, at the top of the crib, inched up somehow even at only a few weeks old. Then she was gone and he felt cheated somehow. This little life I helped create and I never knew her. He cheated himself at first, then her mother took her away and it was just the occasional hologram and the childish voice on tape. Got a swimming medal today, daddy. Did she really know who she was talking to? And that little Vulcan girl at the hospital, her hair so dark that she seemed like Joanna of years back except for the ears. He'd stopped just at the look of her. Tell me the rest of the story, dokkar. Wasn't that a universal request. After all these years, though, he couldn't remember what the hell he'd really told Joanna. Winnie the Pooh, wasn't it? At least that's what he remembered. Of course, Vulcan children didn't have a clue why a stuffed bear would go looking for honey anyway. Funny how he'd sat down with them. He didn't often come across children, not like those on the shore, dancing...something about living with witches. He felt his mind drifting. Asleep, doctor, or awake? The house on the hill, so many rooms, no children to fill them, we never liked going in your house, lenny, there's ghosts, don't cha know? Just trying to scare him, like the dare, chicken, go out on the rope. Fire and ice. They'd had a fire, melted the ice thin. That's why his father took the tire swing down after he swung out and crashed through the ice, went under the water and gulped in until his lungs felt like they had burst. Woke up in a hospital room to see his mother crying beside the bed.

McCoy bolted up, the sweat running down his face, and looked around. V'Rhsal was still sitting ramrod straight, but had turned his head and was regarding McCoy curiously.

leonard, you were dreaming. are you all right now?

was i asleep?

McCoy drew a ragged breath.

you were asleep. you dreamed of nearly drowning in cold water.

why is this going on? i never had so many nightmares.

it is not usual for humans to dream so much? perhaps our link...?

sorry, v'rhsal. i didn't mean to interrupt you.

do not apologize, leonard. do you wish to break the link?

i'm not afraid of the dreams. it's just...

McCoy trailed off.

yes, leonard?

besides, v'rhsal, you said we needed to be linked. perhaps if we toned it down to just a link.

i do not understand.

you said we were bonded. that's deeper than a link, right?

it can be deeper at times.

ok, then, let's tune this down a bit.

leonard, we are `tuned down'. we joined our minds at a deeper level but we did not stay there.

i'm kind of fuzzy about the difference with all these levels, v'rhsal.

leonard, please rest assured that we are simply linked now. should we wish to go deeper, the bonding would allow us to do so. that is the difference.

are you sure we're not going deeper accidentally?

McCoy felt V'Rhsal mentally twitch.

leonard, to feel the full extent of the bonding would require a sexual act between us.

McCoy lay down with his back to the Vulcan.

v'rhsal, please accept my apology. i don't mean to drag you through all my nightmares.

leonard, you have your medkit. perhaps if you gave yourself something to calm your mind, you could sleep.

i don't dose myself. goodnight, v'rhsal.

He lay for some time, listening to the night sounds and looking at the moons. The Vulcan was hushed, only his breathing giving any indication that he was still there. It was some time later that McCoy heard V'Rhsal rise slowly and come over to where he lay.

leonard, though you are not sleeping, at least you are not dreaming either. that is some rest.

v'rhsal, don't worry about me. i'm ok.

i do not worry. worry is illogical.

so is gouging your arm with an unsterilized knife.

you are a stubborn man.

when i tried to worry about you, you got riled.

leonard, you have been...gentle to me, though i think you would deny it. however, allow me to return the same to you.

McCoy stiffened, not knowing what to expect. The Vulcan paused at this, then lay down. He moved slowly until he was touching McCoy; then he pulled the doctor against the expanse of his chest. McCoy suddenly heard Spock's voice, telling him that Vulcans don't like to be touched. But the feverish warmth of the Vulcans higher body temperature warmed him through his shirt, and nothing terrible happened, so he slowly relaxed.

leonard, when i first linked with you, i was...astounded to find you had lived so much of your life alone. vulcans do not believe that aloneness is necessarily good, though there are times when it is warranted. most vulcans prefer not to be in solitude, and, even when there is physical distance between, our mental bond with our mates keeps such solitude from us.

v'rhsal, don't psychoanalayze me. i haven't had an unhappy time of it.

i am not commenting on happiness or unhappiness. i have no familiarity with such concepts. i will admit that i have never experienced intimacy of such nature before as i have experienced with you. i now realize that i, too, have spent much of my life alone.

He hesitated again, but the doctor said nothing.

leonard, it is not good to always sleep alone.

McCoy glanced across the desert, the feel of the Vulcan very strong against him.

my bed isn't always empty, v'rhsal.

i was not referring to procreative actions. i was referring to sleep.

i know what you were referring to, smart ass.

forgive me, leonard.

McCoy closed his eyes, his mind lulling in gentle undulations. He felt the tide of sleep at the fringes of his consciousness. Felt, too, the Vulcan's hard nature calmed and quiet.

v'rhsal, can i ask you something? you don't have to answer.

speak.

why does your wife never contact you, at least send you a message?

because she is no longer my wife. i am no longer her husband. we dissolved the link.

she'll return in four years, right?

it was our families' wish that she and i be joined. she will not leave me to die. she would be outcast. why do you ask?

no reason. sleep well, v'rhsal.

---

McCoy woke to the feel of hot sand on his face. He had slept a deep, dreamless sleep, and it took him a moment to realize where he was.

"Right...still in the desert...." he muttered, rubbing his eyes. He tried to turn over but found himself pinned between a rock and a heavy weight. He craned his neck, then remembered.

V'Rhsal lay sleeping alongside him, dark and warm.

"...this sure is bizarre..."

As he shifted onto his side, cold granite scraped his behind. Wincing, he peered into the sleeping bag.

"Didn't I wear pants?"

"Pardon, Leonard?"

V'Rhsal was awake and eyeing him curiously.

"Could you move a bit? I can't breathe."

The Vulcan shifted back. "Is this adequate?"

"I don't remember being this close to the rock when I fell asleep. Look. In the sand. A big hollow where you started out!" The doctor pointed at indentations beyond where the Vulcan lay. "I've been crushed up against this stupid rock, my sleeping bag's full of grit, and I've lost my pants." McCoy poked around in the bottom of the sleeping bag.

but did you sleep well, leonard? V'Rhsal asked through the link.

McCoy scowled.

yes, thanks.

are you ready to return to the house?

sounds good to me.

---

They returned to the park entrance and took a flyer back to V'Rhsal's home. As the Vulcan was landing the aircraft, McCoy squinted down in the yard at a black object.

"What the hell is that?"

They got out of the flyer. McCoy's stomach fell. "Oh my God..."

Pieces of the kitchen wall lay strewn over the terrace. The door, which had been gently swinging at their approach, fell on the porch. A huge, black-edged hole was all that was left of the kitchen floor. Dust floating in sunbeams could not penetrate the gloom.

"Be careful," V'Rhsal said as he retrieved a portable light from the flyer.

McCoy walked around the edge of the hole but it was black and impenetrable. The Vulcan returned and shone a light beam down. "I see the stairs, the table..." he said quietly. "There is the cooling unit."

McCoy peered down carefully. "We left the containment field on, didn't we?"

"I do not see anything of our plant but there is a lot of rubble. It must be underneath." He flashed the light around. "There is your computer...smashed."

McCoy sat down and rubbed his forehead. "My God...this kitchen...all our work."

"Hold the light, Leonard."

The Vulcan lowered himself over the edge then dropped down. For a long moment, there was silence.

v'rhsal?

i believe the stairs are intact

McCoy heard a shuffling of debris, a few quick steps, then the Vulcan came through the basement doorway. He threw some tapes into McCoy's lap.

these seem all right. the cooling unit appears to have soft-landed, however, i do not believe the computer terminal is repairable.

v'rhsal, we left the containment field on!

McCoy's only answer was an stoical look.

---

They spent the rest of the day clearing debris. McCoy, in the basement, cleared out the main items. V'Rhsal adjusted the cooling unit and straightened the chair legs but was forced to disassemble the computer terminal. They piled the plastic of the floor in the back yard and McCoy was sweeping plaster when he suddenly stilled and glanced around.

v'rhsal, the plant's not here.

perhaps the explosion rendered it completely

but the last time we found pieces of it. i've found plastic, plaster, and some of that black moulding, but no plant tissue at all.

The Vulcan dropped into the hole and adjusted the portable lights.

wait, v'rhsal, the power's still on.

McCoy turned on the overhead lights.

odd, leonard.

odd indeed. these walls are intact. no explosion burns, no damage, no marks at all except those old ones from the first explosion. look.

McCoy indicated the clear basement walls.

and, v'rhsal, no plant tissue debris. none. it's simply not here.

The Vulcan glanced around the floors, then headed into the next room.

leonard...

McCoy put down the broom and followed the Vulcan into the locker room. His shoes slid on the floor.

it's wet in here.

They followed the sticky trail through the underground labyrinth. In the last room with the long windows was the plant, stretched over the chairs and tables. It cringed at their intrusion, it's tendrils rippling as it huddled in on itself.

McCoy scanned it quickly.

it's intact.

it must have come in here by itself.

v'rhsal, plants don't move!

this is plant tissue. it is not a plant-form in the usual sense.

it can't move! how the hell could it move?

V'Rhsal took a step towards it. Immediately a long vine shot out to the window. The plant contracted and the tendrils nearest the Vulcan slid slowly away. McCoy gulped.

that is how, leonard.

V'Rhsal turned to McCoy and raised an eyebrow.

close your mouth, leonard. i am going to take another step towards it.

V'Rhsal neared it again and the plant repeated the process, sending out a feeling vine and contracting in on it.

quite a slow process but it is free-movement. it reacted to my presence. i wonder, if we left the room would it return to it's former position?

It didn't. It didn't seem to care where they were as long as they didn't go near it.

simple reaction. non-directional. it moved away from a stimulus, leonard. i wonder, what was the stimulus that made it come in here at all?

i suppose, whatever happened in the kitchen caused it to move away.

this does not compute, leonard.

damned right it doesn't. that plant is intact! my scanner reads the same mass from it now as before. whatever exploded in the kitchen had nothing to do with this plant.

so...the containment field did not fail.

i guess it didn't, as it was supposed to contain any breaches of weak energy pockets from this thing, and this thing apparently didn't do anything but go on a hike. which brings us back to our first question. v'rhsal, what the hell happened in your kitchen?

The two men exchanged looks before returning to the scene of the damage.

v'rhsal, there's another thing that's odd.

McCoy picked up a piece of moulding.

it looks like it melted a bit. the plastic pieces look the same way. whatever happened upstairs released a lot of heat. if i was still on the enterprise and saw something like this, i'd think that someone took a phaser to the floor.

a phaser?

it's a weapon.

i know that, leonard, but we are not on board your ship. we are in a city suburb on vulcan.

that's what it looks like to me. if someone came in the kitchen door and saw the terminal and tapes and stuff, they wouldn't presume to look any further. who would think of a plant in the basement as being anything connected with what we left upstairs?

leonard, you are suggesting that someone committed a deliberate, irrational act of violence.

well, do you see anything else damaged except for what was left upstairs in the kitchen?

The Vulcan walked through the labs and McCoy trailed after him. At length, V'Rhsal stopped and picked up the neural field generator, which had been sitting in the midst of all his prototypes.

this is still here. if someone wished to destroy our work, surely they would have damaged this as well.

v'rhsal, it's a prototype too. it's sitting here in the middle of all your other inventions. it doesn't stick out at all. who else but us knows that it had anything to do with our research?

this is most disquieting. i find it...difficult to accept your theory.

i know. i'm suggesting that someone blasted in your back door, took a phaser to your kitchen table, then left. it is ludicrous. it's just...that's what it looks like to me.

McCoy took the tapes out of his pocket.

i wonder if these are ok.

V'Rhsal took a tape and inserted it in a terminal. After a moment, he nodded.

it appears fine. we still have our tracings. surely, if someone wished to destroy our work, they would have immolated these tapes as well.

when the tapes went crashing through the floor with my computer, that may have seemed sufficient. if someone did this, chances are they wanted to be quick about it. they wouldn't know that we had gone to that reserve. we never told anyone we were going. and, with my flyer in the yard, it does look like someone's home. to phaser the back door and table would take say fifteen to twenty seconds. in and out, real fast.

The Vulcan shook his head.

it is too illogical, leonard. who would have a motive? very few know what we are doing except that it is general research into khlabar. i told no one except those at the academy who arranged our funding.

McCoy shrugged.

i told kirk and spock.

and soltar?

no, i didn't figure it was any of his business. anyway, he only seems interested in human culture.

there is no motive. we pose no apparent threat to anyone. further, leonard, i have an alarm system and scanning equipment. the alarm was not triggered, which it would have been had anyone entered the yard.

well then, we're back to square one.

The Vulcan's jaw tightened as he started back to the stairs.

---

McCoy rubbed his eyes, then noticed the room was dark.

"Good Lord...what time is it?"

He turned on a lamp before shutting off the computer screen. The chronometer was still meaningless to him though he had celebrated his fourth month anniversary on Vulcan today. He found himself relying on his body's internal clock to nudge him to eat and sleep. Of course, how much of that nudging came from him and how much came through the link, was uncertain.

How strange it all was. Four months now, two months since the trip to La'Val. The kitchen floor was fixed and the computer equipment replaced and, now, secured. They'd been successful in using the neural field generator to jump tracks at points in the plant `cerebellum'. McCoy had switched 6-hydroseron's route through nearly every other transmitter's route and had found fewer points to actually switch than he'd first expected. In theory, he was changing the direction of the stimulus, affecting nerves that might not necessarily be excited...or inhibited, then jumping the impulse back onto the 6-hydroseron path just before the end of the circuit. It seemed to work in the plant well enough but the plant was far bigger than usual brain tissue. It was easier to follow the path of the nerve impulse, easier to slow it down, to guide it. In a rat, the pathway was infinitesimal. His only clue that he'd achieved a correct 'switching at points' would be the result. If he correctly jumped at all the points, if he applied a proper knee-jerk impulse to the tiny rodent, if the knee reflexed properly, only then he could only assume that he may possibly, somehow, have done the thing correctly. If...if...if...

McCoy stood and stretched. There'd been one blessing at least. No more explosions. The only pockets of energy they'd encountered had been Snarks. Even though V'Rhsal hadn't understood the Snarks and Boojums reference, he, too, had been referring to them as Snarks, and had breathed much easier in the last little while when it was only Snarks they'd found.

He went upstairs to his bedroom, stepping through the plant. It still spooked him. It was worse at times such as these, when the Vulcan was out and he was the only one in the house. But he was determined to brazen it out. In the past week, he was sure he'd noticed a change in the plant's reaction to him, a kind of acceptance even when he was close to it. It moved away less often, though it still had that tendency. As long as it didn't approach him, he figured he could live with it.

A tape lay on the dresser in his bedroom.

Mail must have come in, he thought, and popped it into the terminal. There was a lot of static, as if the message had been recorded over a magnetic field. Suddenly it cleared, and the image of James Kirk filled the screen.

"Bones, I got your tape. Sorry I haven't gotten back to you sooner but you know how it is. I'm glad to hear your work is going so well there. I didn't think you'd make it this long on that planet, especially working with Mr. Excitement there every day. Thanks to your sticking it out, I'm now fifty credits in the hole. Spock bet against the pool and he claims to be up nearly three hundred credits." Kirk frowned and lowered his voice. "With regard to your inquiry...I have to tell you, Bones, I've come up with nothing. Your teaming with V'Rhsal fluttered through the gossip vines for a while, but there wasn't much interest in your work itself. The talk's pretty well died out. Starfleet isn't interested, except in the matter of when you'll be returning to the ship. I put a trace on V'Rhsal's wife, Sah'Sheer but she's been on a Vulcan science vessel, the Nézni, this whole time. The Nézni's been in the Mutari sector and you know that's a quiet boonie-type place. Do you think it's possible that something just exploded innocently? Anyway, I'll keep my ears open for you. I have to leave now because Spock's waiting on me in the lounge. I'll have to checkmate him tonight, if only to keep him from harping on about that three hundred credits he won. Keep in touch, Bones, and I'll see you in six months."

The screen darkened. McCoy sat back in his chair, quiet for a few minutes, then sighed. There was no way that anything but a phaser took out that floor. He knew it, despite the untripped alarms, despite V'Rhsal, he knew it.

He waited until he heard the Vulcan come home before turning in. He didn't know why he couldn't sleep alone in the house with that plant. Damned silly, but there it was.

The Vulcan paused outside the door, then entered, the consent to come in passing so silently that it was a mere trace of a thought now. McCoy knew that V'Rhsal had passed an unpleasant evening, having to attend a family function of some sort. Though he did not have much contact with his family, he had not been broken from it. There were some things where duty required his presence, even if his presence consisted entirely of standing silently in a corner for three hours.

does your cousin now have a bondmate, v'rhsal?

the promise of a bondmate, leonard. she is yet seven.

V'Rhsal loosened the neck of his shirt, an oddly-human gesture that amused McCoy.

i stopped by the hospital, leonard. another rat died. i put it in the cooler for your autopsy.

what's the point? I know why the poor thing died. i just finished my last test on the plant tonight. we can start with the rats tomorrow.

V'Rhsal looked up.

tomorrow? that is three weeks earlier than your last projection.

there's no point in waiting any longer. hell, go down to the computer and see how much i got done tonight with you out of the way

V'Rhsal didn't rise to the bait, but, then again, he rarely did. He was no fun to tease.

i will see you in the morning, leonard.

After the Vulcan left, McCoy rolled onto his side and stared at the twin red moons. He had a nagging suspicion that one night those things were going to crash right into the planet and he wanted to have his eyes opened when they did so. Four months, and he still couldn't get used to two moons. Well, maybe that was a good sign. He didn't want to lose his `human-ness'. Sometimes he felt himself drifting into the quiet, Vulcan mode and it worried him. He'd find himself raising his eyebrows next, maybe growing points on his ears.

The wind picked up outside. A gust of sand shivered the pane and the moons dimmed for a moment when a cloud of dust blew across the yard. After a while, despite his earlier statement, the Vulcan returned. Permission silently asked and given, and the feverishly warm body grazed gently against him. Now touching, and touched.

They were often apart now, he one place, the Vulcan another, always working, and they were not apart, their thoughts a single breath away. Most nights he spent alone, dreaming horribly. This, to sleep abreast of the Vulcan was almost a gift, to have true sleep, dreamless and delicate. Curious...peculiar and not peculiar. The perception of the imminent male heaviness beside him..so indecent, so sexless. Whatever the Vulcan's reasons were he kept to himself. Something they did not allude to. Yet the simple acceptance of it all. So be it. A secret that bore no weight. What could it really matter anyway? And still, part of him wondered, and gaped on in distant shock. And part of him didn't really care, and settled down in lovely sleep.

PART TEN

The morning light was soft but the heat was oppressive. V'Rhsal slept unclothed and McCoy had given up wearing anything in bed too. Why dwell on it? The luxury of waking refreshed was too hard to resist.

They woke still hugging. Vulcans downplayed physical sensation between bondmates, claiming it too transitory to be definable. So the Vulcan was physically unaware of McCoy, though they wrapped around each other.

V'Rhsal opened his eyes. It was too hot for a top cover, yet he did not see who was beside him, for physical intimacy was not a concept he bothered with. Mental intimacy was concrete, something of substance. Physicality was nothing. But when the human half of the bed awoke, V'Rhsal, for the first time in his life, felt uncovered. He suddenly understood what the human had been seeing all this time.

Human eyes looked at him, over him, from the dark hair on his chest to the black hair between his legs.

sometimes i think that what i have been taught is wrong.

McCoy shrugged, not willing to respond. He felt something murky here, something coiled and hidden that he did not wish to approach.

sometimes, leonard, i wonder what i have been missing.

McCoy looked away, but the feel of their bodies against one another was strong. It flowed down, uncoiling and twitching. A strong surge of excitement affected them both, and he wanted to recoil. How could such a thing be possible? He felt the tide of agitated arousal and the friction of V'Rhsal's skin on his. The tide surged on until he was at the precipice, on the edge of coming, even though he had not moved in any way. V'Rhsal, almost overwhelmed, confronted the chaos.

i am master! i control!

But they both plunged over the edge. When the shudders stopped, McCoy opened his eyes to find himself covered in sweat and puddles of their combined ejaculate. He turned to V'Rhsal, but the Vulcan was inside himself, eyes tightly closed, fists clenched and twisting up the sheets.

McCoy got out of bed and cleaned up, moving like an automaton. The link rippled on the fringes of his consciousness, but he shut it out and left for the hospital, walking without noticing his surroundings. He somehow swallowed a coffee, accompanied one of the residents for morning rounds, and did the autopsy on the rat, setting his mind numbly at the tasks on hand. But, when the autopsy was done and everything cleaned, the stillness of the lab descended on him. When there was no hum of machinery, no sound of footsteps from the hall outside, nothing at all to distract, he found himself crumpling in a chair and burying his face in trembling hands.

The Vulcan avoided him for a week. McCoy crawled through the days, humiliated and angry. His mind whirled nonstop.

He finally resumed an outside contact. In the hospital coffee shop, Soltar, across the table, was droning on about hypoglycaemia and anticoagulants. McCoy could hardly focus on it though Soltar was usually good company.

A sudden shadow across the table startled the doctor. A twitch of the bond alerted him and he looked up into the deep, black eyes of V'Rhsal.

Soltar stood, in the courtesy of Vulcan fashion but, thanks to Mah'Lee's drilling, he did not seem conscious of the link.

"I am V'Rhsal, an acquaintance of Dr. McCoy. May I join your table?"

"We are honoured, Kór V'Rhsal. I am Soltar, a physician."

As the Vulcans took chairs, McCoy dropped his attention to his tea. There was no retreating from V'Rhsal's voice however.

"Dr. McCoy, it has been some time since we last spoke. I thought it best to inform you of recent developments."

"I have been keeping up on things." McCoy noted Soltar looking between them, if not aware of the bond, at least aware of the tension.

"Then you know there has been the discovery of a Boojum."

"When?"

"Forty-three point seven minutes ago."

McCoy took a breath, still not looking up. "How bad?"

"It was fully contained, Dr. McCoy."

Soltar stood. "Please excuse me. Leonard, perhaps we could continue our conversation at some other time."

McCoy felt a moment of panic. "Soltar, there's really no need. I'm sure Kór V'Rhsal will soon be on his way."

"I am due in my office, Leonard."

After Soltar's departure, McCoy stirred his tea, keeping his eyes down. He could hear the humming of muted conversations around him from the other tables. The coffee shop was busy at this time, with lots of activity, but it was no comfort.

When he finally looked up it was to find V'Rhsal looking idly around the room.

damn vulcans! does nothing bother them?

V'Rhsal picked up on the thought and turned back to McCoy. What the doctor saw in his eyes was a far cry from the unfeeling, Vulcan face.

McCoy let the link open.

leonard, i must ask forgiveness. i shamed myself. i meant only to offer comfort and a means for you to rest.

McCoy drew back in surprise.

you ask my forgiveness? we both--

leonard, mind your expression.

McCoy looked back at his tea, heeding the warning.

i shamed you, leonard.

McCoy felt an odd urge to laugh. Stupid self-centred Vulcans. Think everything in the universe is their fault.

v'rhsal, we kind of shamed on each other, though it mostly landed on me.

if by that you mean we performed a sexual act, then...

v'rhsal, for heaven's sakes!

McCoy glanced around the room as if worried that someone could have overheard their thoughts.

i was speaking of dishonour, leonard. in my culture such actions are performed only by mutual consent.

the same with my culture.

really?

McCoy's head jerked up. Red flooded his face as he realized that the Vulcan was teasing him.

you depraved, six-foot green fence post!

arousing your anger still works. leonard, we are being selfish, putting our feelings before our work, our petty suffering before those who suffer truly.

i know. it's just...

V'Rhsal took a sip of McCoy's tea and raised an eyebrow.

this is cold. may i get you another?

McCoy frowned, finding the Vulcan's attitude irritating.

i'm perfectly capable of getting my own.

leonard, i wish you would accept my apology, although...

The doctor waited, something he'd learned how to do very well on this planet. V'Rhsal twirled the tea cup distractedly.

i also submit that we are truly compatible or such an act would not have been possible between us. though i will endeavour to keep more control, such compatibility is positive with regard to our work.

...yeah...our work...

V'Rhsal waited. Finally, the doctor stood.

come on...i've got something to show you.

<CENTER---

The cold storage held two dead rats, tagged and ready for disposal. In the hot lab, three cages held the other forty rats, one cage breeding, one cage as a control group, and one cage of rats clearly affected by Khlabar-symptoms. This group swayed unbalanced through their cage, or lay twitching against the bars. Their food was untouched. It was less painful for them to remain hungry than to try to stand over the feeding cups.

McCoy leaned over the third cage.

i used your modified neural field generator on a couple of rats in here and in the control group.

did it help?

very well, in fact better on this small scale. All symptoms of Khlabar cleared up.

fascinating.

McCoy sighed.

no, it's disappointing.

The Vulcan paused in surprise.

it works, leonard!

oh sure, we've stimulated the nerve impulse, jumped the tracks at the points, switched it back just before the thalamus. but that was it. the poor rat was back to square one immediately after. you take someone up on the ward...well...they can't spend all their time in a neural field.

our original intent was to use the generator sporadically in hopes of affecting higher cortical change.

it's not going to happen, v'rhsal. the brain can't jump the tracks on its own, not to this degree. we've practically rerouted the whole impulse.

what about long term effects, leonard? side effects.

that's why i have the control group. i didn't see any side effects, no permanent changes at all.

that is...unfortunate.

are vulcans all so understated? it ruins the whole purpose of why we're doing this.

McCoy flopped wearily in a chair, rubbing his temples.

on the other hand, v'rhsal, perhaps the lack of side effects is a positive thing.

how do you mean, leonard?

McCoy held up the generator.

how small can you make this?

what size do you need it to be?

The doctor shrugged.

say, no more than an eighth of an ounce, all non-essentials out and i mean all. one to two centimetres at most and self-powered.

v'rhsal took the generator, eyebrows up in his hairline.

no side effects, no toxins. why bother to try reteaching the central nervous system? let's fool it, v'rhsal. make me something i can surgically implant in the base of the cerebellum.

V'Rhsal was staring at the doctor as if he'd never seen him before.

can you do it, v'rhsal? can you make it that small?

i...will certainly try.

i know it's not a cure but if we can jump the whole 6-hydroseron route, then, who cares how much it deteriorates? a drug to boost the immune system. we could slow Khlabar right down to a crawl.

incredible.

logical. if we can't keep mohammed near the mountain, then make the mountain small enough to fit in mohammed's pocket.

The Vulcan took the chair beside McCoy, still contemplating the generator.

can you do it?

The Vulcan looked at McCoy and almost smiled.

leonard, i did promise that i would build you anything you wanted.

---

Strangely, things rode easier after that. McCoy found it simpler to work beside the Vulcan, found the merest wisp of a thought enough for communication, the slightest gesture enough to convey a whole world of ideas. It was as if the humiliating incident had given them a mutual base on which to stand. They did not allude to it. McCoy did not wish to think on it at all. Yet it seemed to occupy every second thought. It cut at the very heart of how he saw himself.

Why so wrong? Why so abased? Remember, there, for a while, all those rumours about Kirk and Spock? Pure nonsense but they cut deep anyway. Kirk so quiet...so very, very quiet. McCoy tried to broach the subject but the Captain resisted every breach. When it seemed to be over, the Captain had finally spoken. Stirring his coffee, eyes down, he'd suddenly said, "What does it matter, Bones? Really? I know in my own mind what I am. Why should I need to prove anything to anybody? Why care about the rumours, the innuendoes by the dirty-minded?"

McCoy hadn't known how to answer that one. He'd been prepared to offer comfort, After all, Kirk's prowess with women was well known. And Vulcans were as sexually-charged as a damp zucchini. To imagine anything between those two required more storytelling art than the Grimm brothers possessed.

The doctor had shrugged. "Why care, Jim, except that you have to work around all these idiots? You're their Captain. You have to command them, lead them."

Kirk had frowned. "More than that, Bones. Why should it really matter anyway? Why do we still have all this shock, this dirty-minded, peeping-Tom streak? Look how far we've come, how civilized, how tolerant, how advanced we claim to be. Even if it had been true, why should it matter? Whose business would it have been? Who would really have been affected? Why couldn't we hear these things and just shrug and go on?" The hazel eyes had scanned the other tables around them, at all the mixed groups, different genders, different races, faces, species. "Look at the Argelians who have recognized same-gender marriages for centuries, and the Deltans who can have seven or eight in a single marriage. The Cabanians change sexes at the drop of a hat and the Thasians did away with genders millennium ago. I prefer women but maybe that's a restrictive way to be. I don't care to sample more than that but why should that mean anything either? Maybe it's the person you're attracted to. Maybe the gender is absolutely irrelevant."

McCoy had agreed with Jim at the time. After all, he was agreeing in the abstract. He'd never before applied it to himself.

A cool evening came at last. McCoy stretched out on the back stoop, having received a `care package' from a friend back on earth. Neatly wrapped bottles of jams and a large tin of sardines, peanuts, decent coffee, and, snugly fitted in the bottom, the largest most beautiful bottle of Kentucky whiskey McCoy had seen in a long, long time. Also in there was, oddly enough, a small watermelon. V'Rhsal found the doctor sitting casually in the deepening dusk, spitting watermelon seeds into the sand.

The Vulcan peered at the fruit.

what are you eating, leonard?

try some.

what is it?

watermelon. it's ok. Vulcans can tolerate it.

V'Rhsal took a tentative taste, then cut himself a wedge.

i have completed the generator.

you don't sound too happy.

ilidium-powered, lifespan of twenty to twenty-five years. it is the size of a tenth-credit coin.

but...

leonard, the best i could do was a quarter of an ounce.

so?

you did specify an eighth of an ounce. unfortunately i am unable to relieve any more weight from it.

The doctor broke into a wide grin.

you're kidding.

V'Rhsal frowned, unsure of the doctor's humour.

it's amazing! holy shit, v'rhsal, you took something that was originally seven pounds and got it down to a quarter of an ounce!

then, you are pleased?

well, i suppose pleased could cover it. awe-struck would be more like it. aren't you at all proud at what you've accomplished here?

i have achieved a partial objective.

McCoy chuckled, knowing the Vulcan better than that.

a tenth-credit coin is, what, a centimetre or two across?

one point seven eight centimetres from the federation mint.

there will still be quite a lump on the rat's neck after i implant it.

but it would not be noticeable on a vulcan neck.

McCoy lost his humour.

whoa, v'rhsal! you don't just jump from rats to people!

i do not think many vulcans would refuse participation in this aspect of our research.

i refuse! i will not even think of surgery until every test possible has been done on the rats and until i'm absolutely sure that every potential danger has been fully minimized.

leonard--

no!

V'Rhsal quieted. McCoy finished his watermelon, then leaned back to watch the moons rise. He was well aware of the Vulcan's reasons and of his own temptation in that direction. Despite the new medication, Mah'Lee was deteriorating.

The Vulcan's curiosity got the better of him. Poking through the care package, he picked out the jam and brought the label into the light spilling out from the kitchen.

raspberries, sugar, water, pectin, locust bean gum, citric acid, potassium sorbate. leonard, you actually consume this?

every chance i get.

V'Rhsal lifted the whiskey and frowned.

and the alcohol?

washes down the jam.

The Vulcan replaced the bottle and stood, shaking his head.

humans.

McCoy shrugged.

i bid you goodnight, leonard.

The Vulcan went into the house. McCoy tuned down the link, then opened it back up.

v'rhsal, did you check on the plant?

it is fine. i put it back under the containment field.

it moved out of it again?

it is slow movement, leonard. i will just have to check it more often.

why does it keep moving out of the field, i wonder?

despite the fact that it was modeled on part of my brain, i have no idea.

goodnight v'rhsal.

McCoy gathered up his package and went to bed.

---

Only candles lit the room. McCoy walked into the room, blinking as his eyes tried to adjust. Grown-ups moved out of the way at his approach. Someone reached for him, but was drawn back. He heard muted voices.

"Someone take the child out of here."

"Imagine, his father letting him in to see this."

"But it's his mother!"

>From his viewpoint, the coffin stood a mile high. He climbed on a stool, his nose assailed by the smell of cedar and roses. Grasping the edge of the cold wood, he hauled himself up and stood, looking down into the face of a young woman. He was nine and the look of her, lying as if asleep, was not a sight he was prepared for. He remembered falling back and a tablecloth full of candles came crashing down on him.

He jerked awake as he fell over the edge of the bed, gasping raggedly.

"...God...not again..."

Something cool rustled against his leg. McCoy reached down and froze.

V'RHSAL!!!

His mental scream brought the Vulcan running down the hall. V'Rhsal flicked on the lights then halted, staring around him.

The doctor was backed up against the window ledge, as far away as possible from the huge coil of the plant, Tendrils looped the bed legs and a length of brown vine had run up the wall and twisted in the ceiling light. An ugly, blackened splotch along the underside of a broad curve now lay exposed to the light, evidence of the last explosion. At the light, the plant cringed. It streaked down the wall. Leafs rustled as it slithered, trying to reach the dark under the bed. It stank like rotten potatoes.

McCoy was paler than V'Rhsal had ever seen.

leonard, how did it get up here?

what a dumb-ass question! how am i supposed to know?

fascinating. it navigated two flights of stairs, a hallway, your door jamb.

you said it was slow! you said you had it contained in the basement!

logically, i could not have foreseen this.

it's surprised us from day one! take the damned thing out of here! lock it up! nail it to the floor! just get it away from me!!

i will destroy it.

McCoy took a deep breath.

v'rhsal, i don't mean for you to kill it.

what did you mean, then, by `lock it up. nail it to the floor'?

just tie the damnable thing down somewhere. i nearly had a heart attack and that's no exaggeration.

leonard, we can grow another if we need to. this one is getting beyond control.

McCoy looked down at it in a mixture of revulsion and reluctance as the Vulcan gathered up what he could. He left with an armful, the rest of it uncoiling and trailing behind him. McCoy picked leaves out of the carpet and flushed them down the bathroom disposal unit. When V'Rhsal returned, he made a check of the room as well.

where is it, v'rhsal?

it is locked in the outside garage. i still think it should be destroyed.

let's just hope it doesn't explode outside containment. i wonder why it came up here. why didn't it go to you? it's like a part of you.

the plant is a study all in itself.

V'Rhsal brushed some debris out of the bed, then stopped and contemplated the mess of the room.

leonard, i won't have you sleep here like this.

you don't have to worry. i doubt i could even shut my eyes now.

the dreams, the plant, the link, the isolation of being human in this world....it is too much to ask.

i haven't been complaining...lately

but, leonard, seven months living in such a fashion, and still you have accomplished what two centuries of Vulcan research has not. we have hope with this disease now, but at what price?

McCoy picked some more leaves from the floor.

you're not listening to me. i may have lost a few years growth tonight but i haven't packed my bags.

we must end the link.

McCoy sat on the edge of the bed, strangely feeling no urge to cheer.

"Then I suppose I shall have to get used to speaking out loud with you," he said. His voice sounded odd in this house. And the words came so slow.

"As I with you," V'Rhsal said, clearing his throat. He sat beside the doctor.

"What about our work? We can't accomplish our next goal in five months. When I return to the Enterprise, we'll have to use the subspace channels and we won't have priority for them."

The Vulcan didn't respond immediately. His profile was as severe as ever. His black eyes were walls. Without the link, with only this sight to go on, McCoy knew he would be forever hesitating before opening his mouth.

"I am responsible for you."

"Like hell."

"Leonard...I--"

"I'm a grown man! You're not my look-out."

"The fact remains that the plant came up here for you."

"What do you mean for me?" McCoy shifted uneasily on the bed.

The Vulcan, frustrated, opened the link.

leonard, we based the tracings on my brain while we were joined. it is naturally drawn to you. i believe it came up here in order to complete the bonding.

is that all? i thought you were referring to something sinister.

V'Rhsal glanced at McCoy in surprise.

v'rhsal, we'll just keep it tied up somewhere. i'll shut my door.

further than this, leonard, you have not getting sufficient sleep and you have been living in isolation from everyone you know.

it's possible to feel isolated in a room full of people you know.

then, you wish to continue the link?

i don't mind the link. it's the bonding part i could do without.

i am...dubious of achieving that end.

why?

the alternatives are to sever the link completely, or end it and reattempt to mindmeld. we have been joined at this level for some time. we have once...gone deeper. i do not believe we could achieve a simple mindmeld now.

McCoy got up and went to the window. The chronometer on the wall clicked once and the house creaked on its foundation in response.

v'rhsal, what do you want to do about this?

i think we should....

no. tell me what you want.

leonard, i do not understand the difference in the concepts.

that's a vulcan cop-out. i'm sure you do understand after being hooked to me for so long.

vulcans are not taught how to want. we are taught to act and think for common good. personal gain or loss is not part it.

v'rhsal, if you end the link, i will truly be alone here.

and the dreams?

The doctor sobered.

thinking back on my life i'm surprised i don't dream a whole lot more. v'rhsal, teach me to control the way you do. maybe that's what i need to learn.

i am not a teacher. perhaps you should ask the one who taught you to shield so effectively.

McCoy caught the hesitation in the Vulcan's mind. He turned to V'Rhsal but the Vulcan's face was as impassive as ever.

so what are we going to do, v'rhsal?

i will decide in the morning. try to sleep, leonard.

The Vulcan left.

---

McCoy shut off the computer screen and paced around the room. His head felt fuzzy and his stomach churned, which he knew was a combination of the heat and lack of sleep. It was like being an intern again.

He had felt the Vulcan come awake some time earlier but had kept the link down. Their conversation last night had been unsettling. As well, that plant was out there, somewhere, but, more than that, there was the awful remembrance of his mother and the smell of roses still in his nose.

Someone tapped at the door.

"Enter."

A female nurse poked her head in, surveying McCoy with that severe Vulcan look that he still found so disturbing.

"I heard movement in this room."

"I wanted to get an early start today."

She nodded and withdrew. He heard her steps down the hall, noises that would be indiscernable to him with normal human ears. She stopped and spoke to someone, words indistinguishable. The lower response suddenly startled McCoy. The doctor had learned some shielding techniques but they were nothing to the Vulcan who had mastered walls that hid as they braced. V'Rhsal must have erected his own shields this morning, without alerting McCoy that he was doing so, for now, here he was in the hall and the doctor had not felt him coming. V'Rhsal entered the office and shut the door softly behind him.

"I have made a decision regarding our mindmeld."

"Our bonding, you mean," McCoy corrected softly.

V'Rhsal did not react. The coldness in his eyes reminded McCoy of the first time they had met, that morning so long ago now.

"For the sake of your health, I see no alternative but to end the link between us."

"Fine. Let's get it over with." McCoy sat down.

V'Rhsal pulled a chair beside the doctor. "This may take some time. I am not sure how deep the joining is."

"Look, my head's pounding. I feel like I'm going to throw up. Stop delaying, damnit."

The Vulcan closed his eyes and, gently, laid his fingers on McCoy's temples. After a few moments, he withdrew the touch.

"I do not understand, Leonard. You told me to continue."

"I swear, sometimes, you are thoroughly clueless."

The Vulcan drew back, astonished, as the doctor got up and paced.

"V'Rhsal, I don't see how much we'll be able to do without the link once I return to the Enterprise. I'm not even sure that what we're doing will work anyway. We don't know. But there is a chance that we can help. I'm committed to trying. So what that I can't sleep?. Damnit, V'Rhsal, look at what they're suffering upstairs." McCoy pulled a tape out of the computer terminal. "I would appreciate it if you would review the tracings very carefully to make sure that we've mapped 6-hydroseron correctly. I've found a nurse who said he would assist me so I'm going upstairs to surgically implant the generator in a rat. After that I plan to throw up for a while, then read a book. If you want me, just call."

---

He woke up trying to catch his breath. The ceiling lights blazed at him.

Coughing, hanging over the side of the bed, he nearly leaped through the window when a quiet voice said, "Perhaps you should see a healer."

McCoy glared at V'Rhsal. "What the hell are you doing in here?"

"I saw the lights left on and...you were dreaming. If I close my eyes, I will dream your dream too." The Vulcan put down the book he'd found on the table. "Why are all the lights on?"

"If I wake up to that plant once more in the dark I swear, it WILL be the end of me."

"The plant is secure in the garage."

"Yeah, outside the containment. Small comfort."

V'Rhsal turned off all the lights but one.

lay back, leonard, and close your eyes.

The moment that McCoy felt the fiery Vulcan warmth, the stiffness in his neck eased. As he drowsed off into sleep, he mumbled, "How are you ever going to explain this to your wife?"

i do not have to explain. this is between me and thee and no other. rest, now.

---

In the pile of unhealthy rats, one scurried happily, eating from the abundance of food and mating with the feeble females that could no longer offer resistance. McCoy tapped the cage bar and chuckled.

guess which one i operated on.

V'Rhsal picked it up and felt the back of the neck gingerly.

i can feel the generator.

probably so can he but it doesn't appear to be bothering him. he had a little water in his lungs so i've started him on antibiotics, just to be on the safe side. fortunately his body isn't rejecting the generator because he's wide open to infection at this stage of khlabar. i'm going to start a course of drugs to boost the immune system once he's finished the antibiotics.

McCoy gently stroked the rat's head.

leonard, this is incredible.

it is, isn't it?

The Vulcan replaced the rat and closed the cage. His actions seemed subdued, even for him. McCoy frowned at it.

what is next, leonard?

keep my eye on him for a while, then, i guess trying the same thing with another rat. i sure hope this works, v'rhsal, because if it doesn't, well, i'm sure stumped as to any other options with the generator. can you build me another generator, v'rhsal, with the same settings as this one?

i started one last night.

V'Rhsal turned to go, then paused.

i walked through the wards this morning, as per your suggestion. have you been there lately?

two days ago

have you been to see mah'lee?

McCoy felt a sudden cold.

i would suggest you see her soon.

PART ELEVEN

The musician-adept lay on her right side, her fingers wrapped around the metal crossbars of the bedrails. At McCoy's entrance into the room, she opened her eyes.

"Leonard, sit by me."

McCoy pulled up a chair in the dim, hot room and laid his hand close to but not touching hers.

"What happened, nâdjânj?" he asked softly, shocked.

"It is nothing, Leonard. I grow weary."

McCoy sat with her, in silence. She closed her eyes as her hands trembled but her voice was as strong as ever.

"You are the only human I have ever met. Are they all like you?"

"I...don't know."

She nodded. "So open, so deceptive."

McCoy frowned, unsure of her meaning. "Mah'Lee, rest. I'll be back later." He went to rise but she called him back down.

"All these months, Leonard, I did not know why you were here."

"I told you, nâdjânj, research."

"Research into that which I have."

"Yes," he admitted, "but how do you know?"

She opened eyes which were still strikingly clear despite the pain. "I am told that you gave an animal this disease, and then you cured it."

McCoy paused, startled, then said, "It's not cured."

"It suffered, and now it does not suffer."

"I'm testing a device on it but it may not work."

"Why did you not ask my help?"

"Mah'Lee, I'm still at the animal testing stage."

"Leonard, I offer myself."

McCoy took a deep breath. "I can't possibly think of that. Experimenting with rats is one thing but...people! Not for another few months!"

"I do not have months."

McCoy looked down into the face, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's not ethical."

"It may not be humanly ethical, but it is Vulcanly logical."

"If what I've tried is wrong, the animal will certainly die."

"I will die regardless, Leonard. I offer you what I can. Anyone in these rooms will. There are fourteen others here with Khlabar, besides myself. You have only to ask."

"No."

"My life is not important but there are others who will follow me into this hospital bed. If you refuse my offer, they will certainly suffer and die. If you accept, they have a chance to live."

"Don't you think I'm trying as fast as I can? Don't you think that if I could help, I would? My God, I know you're dying! I know!"

She looked so frail that he wished back his outburst. "Leonard, my life is not the issue here. For the sake of all those who suffer and will soon suffer with Khlabar, you should be working with Vulcans, not with animals."

"Mah'Lee, I'm sorry but I just can't justify such reasoning."

She covered his hand with hers, her touch so unfamiliar and so strangely cold.

"I know that you have had some difficulty with the administrator of this hospital. I have amended my final request. I have made it clear that you will perform the autopsy on me and no other." She withdrew her hand and closed her eyes.

He looked at her for a long time then, quietly, turned and left the room.

---

McCoy slammed open the lab door. "You BASTARD! YOU TOLD!"

V'Rhsal glanced up in surprise. "Leonard?"

"I went to see Mah'Lee like you suggested." McCoy shot the words out, utterly furious. "And she knew! She knew about our research, about the rat I operated on! And I had to look at her, lying there so pale and small, and I had to tell her that I couldn't do anything for her. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?"

V'Rhsal stood, putting a table between him and the doctor. "Leonard, I saw her from the hallway. I knew who she was but I have never spoken to her."

McCoy stared at him in dismay. "How can I possibly believe you?"

"I could never lie to you."

"Vulcans DO lie! Don't tell ME they can't!"

"Vulcans can deceive, but I cannot do so with you. We are linked too deeply."

A strand in the link quivered gently. McCoy, deflated, sunk into a chair. "Then how did she know?"

"Many know," V'Rhsal said. "The communication port has been almost continually in use today. You have twenty-three messages, and I have spoken with the Academy twice in the past hour."

"How?" McCoy demanded. "How do all these people know?"

The Vulcan shook his head. "Perhaps the nurse that assisted you spoke of it; perhaps someone in the administration office of the hospital or someone from the Science Academy board. Those I have spoken to are...amazed that you have advanced so far."

"Damnit, how do I know we've advanced anywhere? It's too early to tell if the generator provides a permanent or just a temporary relief from Khlabar. The rat's body could easily reject the generator. It's immune system is all screwed up due to the disease. Any bug could kill it. It could even just die from the stress of all this. How can anyone think there's been any advance made here? I could be on the wrong track. What if I'm wrong?"

"Leonard, it is wrong not to try." V'Rhsal frowned as the communication port buzzed. "It is not my choice either to have our work known at this stage."

McCoy heard it click as it recorded an incoming message.

"Damn..." he muttered as he got up and paced to the back window.

"Alternately such interest is positive if we should need to draw upon other resources. If you can accomplish anything at all, Leonard, it is more than Vulcan researchers have done. Remember, one in five Vulcans can now expect to be stricken with Khlabar."

The doctor turned around. "I wonder why that is. Why DO so many of your people get this?"

"Why did so many terrans contract Cere-myelitis?"

"Because when it was in the first stage, that being a respiratory virus, it was extremely contagious. It resembled a bad, bronchial cold." McCoy quieted for a few minutes as he glanced at the computer terminal by the Vulcan. Finally, he asked, "Could I hook up with the hospital computer's mainframe on this?"

"Access is limited to a select few terminals in the hospital."

"Then I'll have to go back there. I want to review the current medical charts."

"Can I help you?"

McCoy glanced at the half-completed generator. "If you could spare a few hours, I'd appreciate some help going through the medical charts. Do you have right-of-access for them?"

"Normally, no, but the Academy has given me research status with limited access."

"Let's go then."

---

McCoy woke to the sound of the communication port in his bedroom. It was flashing blue, indicating an off-planet call.

"I thought I was just hearing it in my sleep," McCoy grumbled. The Vulcan got out of bed as the doctor fumbled quickly into a shirt and some pants. "Wait, now, V'Rhsal. What if this is for you?"

As the screen cleared to reveal Captain James Kirk, the Vulcan lifted an eyebrow and retreated downstairs.

Kirk smiled at McCoy's rumpled state. "Bones, did I interrupt you?"

McCoy blinked his eyes open. "What could you be interrupting on this planet?"

"The beard suits you. Almost makes you look distinguished."

The doctor managed a smile. "Very funny, Jim. How have you been?"

"Other than broke, fine."

"Have you been making more bets?"

"Unfortunately, yes," the Captain admitted. "I thought I'd give you a call. We were passing by when we found ourselves inundated by a glut of subspace chatter."

"About anyone in particular?" McCoy asked with some trepidation.

"Is it premature to offer congratulations, Bones?"

"Damn," McCoy took a deep breath. "Jim, I've had some success with a surgical intervention in a rat but that is all. In fact, I'm astounded that this has leaked out."

"Poured out," Kirk corrected. "Khlabar is something pretty bad, isn't it?"

"Yes."

Kirk sobered. "Have you had any more explosions?"

McCoy shook his head. "I'm still uneasy. It did look like a phaser blast in the kitchen. V'Rhsal's increased his computer security to cover viruses. We use self-contained computer terminals at home for our notes and charting. I actually carry computer tapes back and forth to the hospital lab and we've physically split our information in several separate rooms in the house. I know this sounds extreme."

"Better to be safe." Kirk squinted. "You know, Bones, you don't look bad at all. I'd almost say that Vulcan agrees with you."

"You called me at this hour to insult me?" McCoy grumbled. "How are things upstairs?"

"We're fine. It's been business as usual. Lately it's even been quiet."

"Quiet? With seven psychiatrists on board?"

Kirk smiled. "Quiet because we still haven't found the key to your brandy chest and M'Benga refuses to allow anyone to break the lock."

McCoy laughed, suddenly relaxing. "Where are you off to now?"

"Starfleet Dock Seventeen, Earth. Council meeting."

"If you have any time coming back, drop by. Otherwise, I'll see you in four months, Jim."

"Take care of yourself, Bones."

Kirk signed off and McCoy looked at the darkened screen without really seeing it. Behind Kirk had been all the familiar colours, walls, that stupid shield the Captain had picked up from somewhere and insisted on hanging over his desk where McCoy feared it would drop like a boulder onto his head.

The Vulcan entered the room bearing two cups of tea. He glanced at the darkened com-screen, then at McCoy's face.

go on. say it.

V'Rhsal raised an eyebrow.

say what?

scowl and say 'moody old humans".

The Vulcan sat on the edge of the bed.

'moody' is not a term with which i am familiar. i apologize, but i did overhear you tell your captain that you would return to the ship in four months.

that was our original plan.

there is still so much yet to do

i know.

McCoy took a sip of the hot tea.

---

The rat survived so well that McCoy took a chance and implanted a generator in a second rat. He returned to the hot lab the next day to find an empty cage and the Vulcan on his hands and knees under a table.

McCoy tried not to smile, which didn't make any difference anyway since his amusement reverberated through the link.

the rat escaped.

the one i just operated on? it's still alive?

The Vulcan frowned.

obviously it survived the procedure, leonard.

McCoy heard a thump and a muffled squeak. The Vulcan stood and held up a white ball of fur.

watch how you hold her, v'rhsal. she's a female in heat.

these females always seem to be 'in heat'.

The Vulcan deposited the animal in its cage with barely repressed disgust. Immediately the male rat mounted her.

V'Rhsal quickly washed his hands.

i just came from mah'lee's room.

how is the kissar-adept?

McCoy leaned forward on the table and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

she refuses any interventions. she's pushing me about her autopsy. you vulcans are so morbid.

V'Rhsal took the seat beside the doctor.

she wishes to help you.

i guess that's one way to put it. i went through those autopsy reports again and i found one common thing, not related to cause of death but, fortunately, something the coroner thought worthwhile to mention in a secondary note.

which was, leonard?

all those who died had scar tissue in their lungs. so i went back through all those medical charts, which was kind of tedious, but i discovered something interesting in the medical histories. it seems that nearly everyone stricken with khlabar who showed a quick progression of symptoms also had a viral infection within the year proceeding the khlabar diagnosis. so then i went and checked mah'lee and five others on the ward.

and...

same thing. they all had what they termed a 'bad chest cold' which required antibiotics. unfortunately, antibiotics don't do a thing when it comes to viruses. anti-viral agents are only good in vaccinations, in prevention. the antibiotics were prescribed to prevent any secondary infections but, mainly, these colds had to just run their course. i got some blood samples and a bit of lung tissue from one very understanding lady. i also picked up a vulcan namacha, you know, with the two tails. weird looking little rat.

where is he?

in soltar's lab. he and i made a make-shift vaccine off the tissue sample and gave it to the namacha. in a few days i'll infect the rat with khlabar and see what happens.

V'Rhsal paused.

soltar is now part of our research?

we're hardly keeping any secrets. however, a vaccine is no big deal. he says it's been done many times in the past.

unsuccessfully, leonard.

right, they've made useless vaccines off the blood samples. however, the viral infection in the lungs was a first generation bug. it's a little different.

McCoy glanced over at the rats.

we're going in two directions, v'rhsal. prevention, if there is a vaccine, and the generators. dear heaven, let one of them work.

V'Rhsal studied the doctor. The unspoken thought, she will die soon, hung between them.

McCoy got up to leave but hesitated at a sudden, high-pitched squeak. One of the rats convulsed at the side of the cage and fell over, landing in the water dish.

McCoy lifted the little body out, then froze.

oh, shit!

leonard?

McCoy felt the back of the rat's neck gingerly.

shit! v'rhsal, it's the male! it's the male i operated on!

He laid the rodent on a towel.

well, that's it then. don't you dare ask me to operate on a vulcan now.

---

V'Rhsal had a spread of metal parts and wires over the kitchen table. He looked up at McCoy's arrival.

i thought i had heard your flyer.

He got the doctor a cup of tea as McCoy sat heavily in a chair.

i'm surprised i didn't set any alarms off.

i tuned outside security to your flyer's engine frequency. did you do the autopsy on the rat?

he died of pneumonia.

that is hopeful. he did not die from the generator.

in a way he did. i had to give him anti-immune drugs so that his body wouldn't reject the generator. he couldn't fight off any infection.

McCoy took a sip of his tea and winced.

what's in this?

you mentioned that alcohol and tea were mixable. i opened the bottle that had been in the package from your terran friend. leonard, we do not have enough information to ascertain failure. how is the female rat?

she appears healthy. i put her in a sterile area but that means she's isolated. rats need the company of other rats.

McCoy scrutinized the mass of metal on the table.

what are you doing now?

V'Rhsal didn't look at him.

adapting a generator.

adapting it for what?

When the Vulcan didn't answer, McCoy pushed out from the table and paced to the counter.

damnit!

leonard, i still think that---

no! i don't care what the hell you think. you're not a doctor. you wouldn't be the one doing it. i'm not putting one of those things in a person and that's that!

you are fatigued. perhaps you should...

and don't tell me what to do! i'm sick of that.

i merely suggested.

i'm just angry, v'rhsal. hell, pneumonia, of all things! i didn't even notice he was sick!

how could you notice? he spent most of his time mating with the female, hardly the actions of an ill animal.

McCoy picked up his tea and went upstairs. He undressed in the dark and lay down, feeling sticky in the heat. The alcohol made him feel even warmer but it also eased the whirling in his mind and cleared the awful smell of antiseptic from his nose. The growth of beard itched from sweat.

He turned on his side, away from the strong moonlight. Downstairs, he could hear the Vulcan tinkering, the scrape of the chair and the click of metal parts. Outside was the wind and the incessant drumming of sand. The communication port buzzed. He heard the chair scrape again and the Vulcan's low voice.

"Please just leave me alone for two minutes," he grumbled. It wasn't the end of the world to be on the wrong track, but then there were those times when the whole world was watching. All those worlds... Miri's world, Gamma Hydra IV, the USS Exeter and Omega, Shanta-rhu and the constant rain, that blown-up place known as La Pig...had he really a hand in all that? Had it truly happened?

The Vulcan's voice quieted and he was left with only the sand. That and the vague feeling of being in someone else's house, a feeling that hadn't quite faded away. She was still out in that mutara sector, thank heavens. Still, he wondered. How could she just go? What kind of relationship was it that let them all just pick up and go? Just like your marriage, doctor, in case you've forgotten. Then again, what if she actually came back? That would be a sight, the way he was in this.

He opened his eyes. It was dark at the door.

"...damn...."

He opened the link.

have you checked on that plant lately?

of course. go to sleep, leonard.

it'll strangle me and then you'll see how well i'll sleep.

He was dozing when the creak of the Vulcan's steps on the stairs stirred him awake.

who called us anyway?

be calm, leonard. i have not had any news from the hospital. ambassador sarek returned from your earth this evening and i accepted his invitation for the both of us.

V'Rhsal sat on the bed, his back against the headboard. Cool drifted through the link like a gentle fog until the throbbing in McCoy's forehead eased.

it's awful, this waiting.

then you allow that mah'lee will die?

v'rhsal, i will not be the one to kill her.

McCoy closed his eyes to the sound of the sand on glass.

have you ever been to shanta-rhu?

i have taken very few trips from vulcan.

you probably wouldn't like it. it's very wet. the rain goes on and on. gets into everything.

did you stay there long?

i never get a chance to stay anywhere too long. the one time i tried, they drafted me.

i find it difficult to envision such a life. why did you choose it?

now there's a loaded question.

loaded?

McCoy smiled.

complicated.

unanswerable, leonard?

i've never taken the time to answer it, that's all. why did you choose your profession?

you asked me once before.

and you didn't have an answer.

i see. it was a loaded question. if i am not prying, may i ask you something more?

McCoy shrugged.

i have sensed a word from you...yonada. is this a place you have visited also?

just once.

it is often in your thoughts. why did you not stay there?

McCoy glanced at the Vulcan's unreadable face, at the dark eyes and brow.

the answer to that would take all night.

V'Rhsal regarded him.

forgive me, leonard. i invade your privacy.

after that incident that one morning, what privacy do i have left? which brings up a question for your logical mind to mull over. have i kept my word to you to be celibate?

V'Rhsal frowned.

does that morning now amuse you?

it's starting to.

illogical. the goal is to master the emotions, not be a slave to them. a study of vulcan history is a sober lesson of the cost of such enslavement.

you could try living in harmony with your nerve endings.

it is not possible. that morning was a shameful display. i not only disgraced myself but, worse, i did so with you. i was too curious. at the first sign, i should have mastered it.

impossible. could you have also mastered my display? in case you hadn't noticed, it happened to both of us.

but you are human. it is different.

oh?

McCoy sat up.

what do you think of humans, v'rhsal? do you think we just do it at every end and turn?

at every what?

i have some standards too and being with another male is not part of them.

leonard, i did not mean to insult you. i did not know humans regulated their procreative nature. i only meant, with the frequency of act and partners, humans seem to be...

seem to be what? immoral? deviant? depraved? unscrupulous?

i have noticed they breed like...rats.

McCoy rubbed at his beard.

let's hope none of this depravity rubs off on you through our link. don't stay up all night thinking, ok? i want to get some sleep.

As McCoy settled back down on the bed, V'Rhsal fell quiet. After some time, he turned back to the doctor.

leonard, i did not think you indiscriminate. i thought that humans accepted their nature and what happened between us would disturb you less.

When the doctor only scowled, the Vulcan added,

obviously, i am correct in this assumption.

v'rhsal, it's not that it disturbs us less. We just don't treat it as something that can kill us if we don't have it. you vulcans go through these big, elaborate rituals. you get the whole family running around shaking bells and parading through the desert. everybody knows what you got on your mind and, on top of that, if the woman decides she'd rather go shopping, you could just up and die. it seems like a helluva way to `procreate'.

leonard, vulcans prevent conception during the rutting.

oh, right!

a child conceived during such a frenzy is likely to be born impaired.

then, what do you...i mean, how do you...um...? what's the point of it?

i do not know the point of it. it is the vulcan way and has been for centuries. pon farr is the time of mating, not the time of conception. when we decide to conceive a child, it is a simple matter. the female's uterus is stimulated with an electric current to induce ovulation. she inserts a suction tube through her vagina. the male releases semen into the mouth of the tube by applying gentle pressure at the base of the penis. she lies supine for a period of time, then continues with her day's duties.

McCoy sat up and stared at the Vulcan.

where's the fun in that?

`fun?' do you mean, physical sensation?

yeah. the fun.

V'Rhsal shook his head.

the intent is conception. there is no need for physical sensation though the female might feel some discomfort from the current and the tube.

McCoy blinked.

you mean, you can `release semen' without feeling anything?

yes, leonard. do humans not have the same control?

i'd say we always feel it.

McCoy laid back down, his thoughts chaotic. Then he frowned.

that morning you felt something too.

i have admitted as much.

is that why you said you had shamed yourself? because it was pleasurable?

there is no logical rationale for what we did.

no, but maybe there's no logic involved in any of it. when humans get together it's for sharing something very deep, or it should be, though some of us are indiscrimate. the point is not generally conception.

humans do seem overinvolved with this activity. i do not understand how deep it can be when it does not involve mental joining as well.

so you think we're missing out?

V'Rhsal regarded McCoy for a moment.

leonard, hold up your hand.

McCoy did so. V'Rhsal raised a hand and slowly extended his fingertips, then closed his palm over the doctor's.

what do you feel, leonard?

McCoy's fingers trembled under a peculiar warmth.

it's...hard to put in words.

this is the beginning of pleasure. this is where vulcans start when they wish to share something deep.

Still shivering, McCoy pulled his hand away.

PART TWELVE

Soltar bent his elegant head over the small cage in his office and studied the small namacha. "The one appears to have tolerated the split-virus vaccine without ill effect."

McCoy nodded. "I'm glad."

Soltar straightened. "I checked him this morning. All life signs are normal. He had a slightly elevated temperature last evening and some swelling at the hypo pressure spot. I recommend at least ten days before infecting him with Khlabar."

"I appreciate this, Soltar. I can keep him if he's in the way."

Soltar shook his head. "He is no problem here and is not at risk from your infected namachas."

"You know that the one i operated on died yesterday."

Soltar looked over. "No, Leonard. I did not know that."

"Pneumonia."

"Possibly unrelated to the device you and Kór V'Rhsal developed. Will you try with another namacha?"

"I haven't decided," McCoy replied softly.

"If I can be of any help, you have only to ask. There is a lecture this afternoon on the Tohlmar Vascular Regeneration Technique. Would you care to attend with me?"

"I'd like to but I have a...social engagement."

Soltar regarded him curiously.

"Forgive my humour, Soltar," McCoy said as he stood. "I've been invited out to dinner."

---

McCoy was at the computer terminal in V'Rhsal's office when the link tingled. He paled, then, quietly, shut off the terminal and leant forward. V'Rhsal found him there a little while later, sitting silently in the dark.

leonard, we are late.

i'm not in the mood to go out and socialize.

ambassador sarek is waiting for us. i brought a change of clothing for you.

v'rhsal, i have an autopsy to do.

it will wait.

how can you be so cold-hearted? she was a wonderful lady.

we have accepted this invitation.

forgive me, v'rhsal. i shouldn't let a little thing like someone's death stand in the way of dining out.

The Vulcan's face was severe.

leonard, you are human but you are on vulcan. there are certain codes of behaviour and convention you should do your best not to insult.

don't pull that tone with me, vulcan.

leonard, i do not understand your overwhelming moods. each death is a loss but there is no gain by sitting inactive in the dark. master your grief and get up from that chair!

McCoy eyed the Vulcan for a moment before rising slowly. He picked up the clothing V'Rhsal had brought.

would it help you to see her before we leave?

McCoy shook his head as he changed.

you carry a deep anger with you, leonard.

will you please stop psychanalyzing me? it's really annoying.

my apologies, leonard.

---

Sarek's house was unchanged, familiar. It carried a strong, human touch despite the austere architecture and alien landscape. Sarek also seemed unchanged. He led them in to the living area.

"My lady wife is on earth visiting her family and will not be joining us."

"How is Amanda?" McCoy asked, his voice neutral.

"Very well. She will be sorry to know that she missed you, doctor. It is an honour to see you again, Kór V'Rhsal."

"I am the one honoured, Ambassador."

As they sat down, V'Rhsal added, "We were detained as we received distressing news this afternoon."

"Oh?" Sarek paused from pouring tea.

"There was a death at the hospital, an acquaintance of Leonard's."

"My sympathies," Sarek said, eyeing the doctor's impassive face.

McCoy picked up his tea, avoiding Sarek's scrutiny.

After a long moment of silence, Sarek turned to V'Rhsal. "I hear much of you and Dr. McCoy. I trust your work is progressing well."

"We believe it is too early to ascertain," V'Rhsal replied. "We did not present our work to public scrutiny."

"How was it made public?"

"We do not know."

"Do you wish an investigation made in that area?"

"No. We have taken precautions."

Sarek glanced at McCoy, his face thoughtful. "Doctor, I hope your stay on Vulcan has not been unpleasant. I admit, you are not someone whom I think would enjoy this society."

"You got that right," McCoy caught V'Rhsal's look, and added, "Fortunately, I didn't come here for a good time."

"Have you had opportunity to sample Vulcan culture?"

"I've had enough of kissars."

V'Rhsal raised a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. After a long stretch of silence, McCoy said softly, "Sarek, I'm sorry. The person who died this afternoon was someone that I truly liked. Though she was sick for a long time, and I knew there was little hope, it doesn't make it any easier."

"I am not offended, doctor," Sarek said. "I grieve with thee." He stood. "I have heated food that my wife prepared. She enjoys this activity and takes time to make it palatable for vulcan and human taste. I hope you will enjoy it."

"If Amanada made it, I look forward to it," McCoy said.

The meal, though meatless, was very good. It had been a long while since McCoy could remember liking the taste of his food. Sarek, in deference to the doctor's mood, kept quiet throughout the dinner. When McCoy put his fork down, the Ambassador looked over.

"Amanada often complains that she feels stifled by Vulcan rules and social standards. Do you find it so?"

"Well, I doubt I'd retire here," McCoy said. "What I have found most aggravating is an almost total lack of a sense of humour."

"Humour is an acquired attribute."

"I've also noticed that some Vulcans are very pushy." McCoy glanced at V'Rhsal who ignored him.

Sarek looked between them, a ghost of a smile in his eyes. "May I enquire about the progress of your research? It sounds as though I should not trust news reports."

McCoy took a breath. "We infected a rat with Khlabar. V'Rhsal stylized a small neural field generator which I implanted at the base of the rat's cerebellum. It rerouted impulses away from the damaged nerves. All symptoms disappeared. We had a happy rat, and then he died."

"He died of pneumonia, Leonard," V'Rhsal corrected.

"But he still died."

V'Rhsal turned to Sarek. "Leonard has repeated the surgery in a female rat and has isolated her in a sterile environment."

"How is she?" Sarek asked.

"So far, all right."

"And the symptoms of Khlabar?"

"No symptoms showing," McCoy admitted.

Sarek studied the doctor. "But you are not pleased?"

"It's not that."

Sarek paused, then said, "Implanting an adapted generator was not your original aim, was it Kór V'Rhsal?"

"We were forced to revise our working theory." V'Rhsal moved a plate out of the way and rested an elbow on the table. "It was Leonard's idea to use surgical intrusion."

"Interesting," Sarek commented. "And you had no problems with Academy funding when you revised the theory?"

"Fortunately, no, we did not," V'Rhsal said.

Sarek nodded. "If your research undergoes any more revision and you do find a problem, inform me and I will speak to the Academy. I do not forsee any obstacles, however. At this point they seem eager to invest in you."

McCoy frowned. "Since we're using their money, can I assume that they own the results of this research?"

"It is a natural assumption," Sarek said.

"Tell me, if I decide that surgically implanting a generator in a Vulcan isn't a good idea, but those old coots that sit on the board of that committee decide it is a good idea, will they ignore me and pursue this route anyway?"

"You should expect it."

On the ride back to the hospital, V'Rhsal glanced at McCoy.

you are very quiet. are you well, leonard?

considering where i'm going, i'm all right.

perhaps i should tell you something. the money that financed the generators was my own. i have the receipts.

why did you do that?

i am the only one to hold a patent. no one can use it without my permission.

The doctor managed a small smile.

do you have many reservations over the surgery, leonard?

i want to be careful.

then, be aware, you do have that option.

As V'Rhsal landed the flyer, he continued.

do you wish me to wait for you?

no, the walk will do me good.

---

The house was dark when McCoy returned. He palmed the front gate, holding his breath, but the alarms remained silent. He had his hand on the front door when, on impulse, he walked around to the back and into the garage.

It was pitch black inside. He stepped into the doorway but the lights failed to come on. As he groped at the wall, trying to find the light connection, his shoe banged something hard.

"Shit!"

He found the switch and yellow light illuminated a toolbox on the floor. There was nothing else in the room.

McCoy glanced around. He stepped back outside and looked around the yard. Finally, he darted up the stoop and into the house.

The kitchen was quiet and the door that led to the basement stairs was shut. He walked through the first level of the house quietly, passing by closed doors. He'd never been in some of the rooms though he knew what they were. V'Rhsal's study was near the front door, and a passage led to his wife's office. The main living area was dominated by his possessions and a segregated part of the house was clearly her's. It was as though two distinct apartments were contained under one roof. McCoy walked through silently, looking under tables, on furniture. Lights switched on as they sensed his presence and darkened noiselessly when he left.

He retraced his steps down the main passage and started up the stairs. The Vulcan was sleeping undisturbed so McCoy passed by the bedroom without entering. He tiptoed quietly, peeking into open rooms and passing by those with closed doors. The same division existed upstairs as it had down, with areas clearly meant as hers and others as his.

He ended in his own room. There was no sign of the plant.

He sat on the edge of his bed, then hastily rose and inspected underneath it.

"Where the hell are you?" he whispered. He went to the window but the high walls impeded his view of the neighbour's yard. Beyond the back yard he could only see sand. As he surveyed what he could see, he felt a sudden chill.

"Where the hell is...?"

McCoy opened the link and woke up the Vulcan.

v'rhsal, i'm sorry to disturb you.

what is wrong, leonard?

did you park your flyer somewhere else?

The Vulcan awakened fully. McCoy opened the communication port and called the Vulcan constabulary.

---

A huge Vulcan answered McCoy's call. He made a visual search of the yard and surrounding area quickly and impassively before returning to the kitchen where McCoy and V'Rhsal waited.

In a toneless voice, he asked, "Are you missing anything other than the flyer?"

tell him about the plant.

no, leonard.

v'rhsal, what if it blows up somewhere?

"There was a...houseplant, weighing approximately seven hundred kilograms."

"Colour."

"Brown and green."

"Type."

V'Rhsal hesitated, then said, "Fern."

"What type of plant was it, Kór V'Rhsal?" the Vulcan repeated.

"It was a prototype, a first generation, unclassified. It is potentially explosive."

He was given a long look. "What exactly is the nature of your research here?"

McCoy cut in. "It was a simple molecular chain based on cerebral DNA. It stored energy for its own use. Unfortunately some of the places where it stored energy were unstable. We had it under containment. Whoever took it is at personal risk."

He stared the big Vulcan down without flinching. "You can clear our credentials with the Vulcan Science Academy."

"I will do so, Kór Makkoy." He strode to the door. "The security system is quite effective, therefore, whoever entered your property knew how to do so without sounding an alarm. Do you suspect anyone?"

V'Rhsal considered momentarily, then said, "No, I do not."

"We have attempted to trace your flyer's recall signal without success. Security posts in the area have been alerted. When we have made progress, we will advise you."

McCoy made a pot of tea and handed the Vulcan a cup.

do you want me to spike it?

pardon?

with alcohol? it helps.

McCoy was given a severe look.

my flyer was secured. yours was open and nearest to the garage but mine was the one taken. i have sent a message to sah'sheer but she has not yet replied.

she's out in the mutara sector.

leonard, she is the only other person who knows the codes for the security system.

McCoy looked away.

v'rhsal, when we had the first problem i checked on where she was and i know she's still there. she is confirmed as active personnel aboard the Nézni and is still on that ship's logs.

He waited for a response, anger, confusion...anything...but the Vulcan remained calm in the link.

v'rhsal, you told me that you had to end your bonding with her in order to do this research with me. i have to believe you because i don't know much about these things, but it occured to me that she didn't have to move out.

that was her decision.

and not my business. but it still brings up the question of who was here and how did they know how to get around the security?

McCoy propped his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands, trying to get comfortable.

did you do the autopsy?

yes, i did. she went into respiratory failure. what a little lady, v'rhsal. she was so small on that table.

McCoy closed his eyes.

i also checked on our female rat. she's ok but i think she's pregnant. soltar's keeping his eye on the rat that i vaccinated. he suggested a ten day waiting period before infecting it and i concur with that.

The com port buzzed. McCoy groaned.

shit. whose turn is it? yours or mine?

V'Rhsal opened the port.

"Speak."

"Kór V'Rhsal, we have located a flyer matching your description. Section 2, Sub and Lahja. Will you identify?"

"Yes. I will be there directly."

---

Who was that woman, he wondered? Long, black hair flew out behind her as she walked along the shore. The wind flattened her dress against a rounded, maternal stomach. She came upon him suddenly, not realizing that he was there, and she started. Her eyes filled with fear.

"Please, sir, I must go home. My mother is waiting for me."

He felt himself moving, against his will, with heavy lead feet. His arm felt heavy and sluggish as he reached over and fastened on her arm.

"Please, sir, let me go! Please!"

Her tears felt hot on his skin. Why was he holding onto her? He strained desperately to release her but could not. Her arm was turning purple.

The wind slowed and a soft breeze blew off the water. It cooled his cheeks. His heart gently slowed. Opening his hand, he let her go.

The coolness did not recede and he woke to the sound of the Vulcan's voice in his mind.

do not open your eyes, leonard.

His heart jolted.

why?

calm yourself. i mean only to let you sleep. the dreaming is over now.

As he settled back down, the Vulcan's voice came more quietly.

what will you do when you return to the enterprise?

i suppose i will dream.

perhaps not. do you know who she was?

yes. my mother.

---

McCoy sat up, feeling sweat run down his back. He opened his eyes and the sun nearly blinded him. V'Rhsal was sitting in a chair, arms crossed, looking out the window.

what time is it?

irrelevant, since you follow earth's twenty-four hour day.

what time is it to you then?

The Vulcan did not answer.

v'rhsal, i think you're angry. don't take it out on me, huh?

anger is non-productive.

McCoy rubbed his temples.

what a godawful headache. i think i've had one since i've been here.

i apologize.

what for now?

i have given you back a memory you buried from yourself long ago.

it's why i've been dreaming, isn't it?

vulcans do not have the ability to obscure our memories. since being linked to me, i believe this part of myself has affected your mental defenses.

you mean my human mental bandaids.

perhaps, but there are events i wish i could forget.

V'Rhsal stood and walked to the window, laying his hands on the sill. After a long time, he continued. when i decided to ask your help in this research, sah'sheer told me she did not approve. she tried to change my mind.

was it because of the mindmeld?

there was more to it than that. she was most insistent in her disapproval but her opinion was irrelevant. until now.

V'Rhsal's shoulder muscles tensed.

my flyer was in pieces. you would not have known it, leonard. i barely recognized it myself. if it had not been for the registration number imprinted on the drive block, i would not have been able to identify it.

but i told you, she's too far away and this is a severe response, even if she didn't approve.

leonard, it took but a moment to teach the security codes to you. further to that, she has not replied to my message, though there has been ample time. it is in her best interest to avoid reply. she will not appreciate what i will say to her.

The sill splintered. McCoy's breath caught but V'Rhsal merely glanced down at it, at the pieces still held tightly in his hands.

insteady of wrecking your windows, perhaps you should change the codes on the security system.

i have already done so.

V'Rhsal dropped the pieces of sill and walked out of the room.

PART THIRTEEN

"Come here, baby." McCoy reached into the cage and picked up the female rat. She wriggled at first, then settled in his hand.

"You're getting fat, momma," he said as he gently stroked her stomach. She would deliver soon but her litter would be born infected with Khlabar. They would not survive.

He replaced the rat, then walked through the hospital to check on the namacha in Soltar's office. This was the one where his hopes lay.

He was in the coffee shop when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"May I join you, Leonard?"

Ambassador Sarek stood behind him, hands clasped behind his back in that posture his son had inherited.

"Certainly," McCoy answered.

As Sarek took a chair across the table, he continued, "I looked for you in your lab and was informed by a nursing aide that you often come in here."

"Well, no one stares at my ears here."

Sarek looked around the room, as if taking the doctor's comment literally. Finally he returned his gaze to McCoy.

"How is your work progressing?"

"All right."

"And yourself?"

"Fine."

Sarek studied him, then nodded. "You did not look well that night at my home."

"I don't doubt it." McCoy took a sip of his tea and made a face. "I tell you, Sarek, the first thing I'm going to do once I'm back on the Enterprise is get a decent cup of tea. I just can't get used to this Vulcan kind."

"It was in the second year of our marriage that Amanda tried to grow her own tea leaves."

"Now there's an act of desperation," McCoy said with a smile. The amusement was echoed in Sarek's eyes. "All these years I've known your son," McCoy said, "I think I finally understand what he goes through being on a ship full of humans."

"Has it been so difficult, Leonard?"

McCoy replied sardonically. "Look who I work with. Do you know what they call V'Rhsal behind his back?"

"The Glaciator," Sarek said.

McCoy chuckled. "You do know."

"Where is Kór V'Rhsal? I could not find him."

"I haven't seen him myself for three days."

"But you know where he is," Sarek said softly.

"I always know where he is. But this isn't the best of times to disturb him."

Sarek did not press further. Changing the subject, he said, "My interest in your work is not an idle one. The purpose of my visit to the hospital today was to visit an acquaintance who is in the terminal stage of Khlabar."

"I'm sorry to hear that. It's a horrible death."

"I do not wish to press you but I must ask. Can you offer any prospect?"

McCoy took a long time to respond. "No."

The Ambassador nodded once. He looked around the room once more, at the filled and busy tables. Finally, he said, "The Enterprise is due in Vulcan port in four point seven three eight days."

"Have you been in touch with Spock?"

"Federation Council. The ship is stopping only to transport myself and an aide on board. I will be meeting a Romulan delegation on the neutral planet Allát."

Prickles rose on McCoy's neck. "Starships escorting Ambassadors to neutral planets gives me a bad feeling."

"There has been some trouble along the Klingon-Romulan border."

"I thought they had a treaty."

"Which they have never admitted to," Sarek said. "The Romulan Embassy initiated first contact. They believe that Vulcan has been supplying the Klingon Empire with some sort of weapon."

"Vulcan? You mean, the Federation."

"No," Sarek said. "Vulcan."

McCoy sat back in his chair, troubled. "The Romulans are not quick to jump to conclusions. And, in my stay here, I've discovered that Vulcans are peace-abiding but not peaceful."

Sarek studied him. "I fear this news distresses you. I trust you will not shorten your stay here because of it."

"What I have started can easily be finished by Vulcan physicians," McCoy pointed out, irritated by the comment. "In fact, everyone seems to have their own opinion as to what should be done next."

Sarek nodded. "Exactly."

---

The wind coming off the lake whistled, an eerie lonely sound that whipped by McCoy's ears and chilled his face. "It is Vihár. The storm season approaches." V'Rhsal turned his face from the wind and drew his jacket closed.

The water rushed at McCoy's shoes and drenched them. Another wave neared and he took a step back, squishing in the icy sand.

"Worry is non-productive, Leonard."

McCoy managed a small smile. "You don't have to stay out here."

"You need me to show you the way home."

"I've got your map in my mind."

The Vulcan didn't budge. The doctor tried a different tactic.

"I thought your insurance paid up. How come you're not out buying another flyer?"

"I will do so tomorrow."

McCoy watched another wave come in, then turned.

"Let's go. I can't stand hearing you shiver anymore."

They walked along the shore, back towards where they had parked McCoy's flyer. The Enterprise had come and gone. The fact that Kirk had not sent even a greeting indicated the urgency of their latest orders. V'Rhsal, sensing the doctor's temptation to return to the ship, hardly left his side for a week. So it surprised him this morning when McCoy sent notification to Starfleet that he was extending his leave.

McCoy was just about to get in the flyer when a group of tall, dark-red rocks caught his eye.

"What's over there?"

V'Rhsal opened the door. "Thenés, the place of he who rests."

"Rests? As in buried?"

"Leonard, let us go." The Vulcan sneezed.

"Who's buried there?"

"Surak."

"Surak?" McCoy turned around.

"Leonard, it is not right to look upon him unless you have undergone Emlék, the ritual of Remembrance."

"What do you mean, look upon him? You can see him?"

"Yes." V'Rhsal got into the flyer.

"That Surak? Who died over a thousand of your years ago?"

He was given a forbidding look. McCoy took a deep breath. He could smell the approaching rain. The ground rumbled.

"Vihár," V'Rhsal said softly.

McCoy got into the flyer and shut the door. "Your world is so violent."

"My world was violent. We keep the scars to remind ourselves of what we once were."

The ground thundered again. "No, V'Rhsal. Your world is violent."

The Vulcan was quiet during the ride to the hospital. Finally he turned to McCoy and said, "I sense curiosity in your mind."

"You can hardly blame me. But if you say it isn't right to look at him, then I'll abide by that."

"What is the next stage of our research?"

"Infect the rat in Soltar's office."

"And the generator?"

"Still necessary. A vaccine is only good for prevention and don't look so damned astonished. I know you've already adapted three generators for Vulcans."

"One."

"Three. If you think it's possible to hide anything in that mass of wires and metal in the basement, you'd better think again."

"One unit has been adapted. Two are in the process, therefore they have not been adapted, past tense."

V'Rhsal sneezed.

"I hope you're not getting a cold." The moment he'd spoken the words, McCoy felt a chill. Keeping his voice casual, he added, "When we get to the hospital, I'd like to have a quick listen to your lungs."

His only response was an annoyed glance.

---

McCoy pressed his hand to the window pane and felt it shiver against the storm.

"If it isn't sand, it's rain," he muttered.

He heard coughing from upstairs.

"Damn."

He laced a cup of tea with antibiotics and took it upstairs. V'Rhsal, sitting up in bed, was also looking out the window.

"How long does this stormy season last?"

"A month."

"And the rest of the time it's dryer than a bone. What a crazy planet."

"It is no different from the desert ecological systems on your home planet. The Sahara and Gobi deserts have an annual---" The Vulcan was interrupted by a bout of coughing.

"Shut up and drink."

McCoy sat on the edge of the bed and handed the Vulcan the cup.

V'Rhsal took a sip, noted the taste, but said nothing.

Thunder boomed. For a split second the room was lit with bright light. Then the sky cracked and darkness returned.

"I'd like to get some work done. Will you be all right?"

He was given a severe look.

"Before I go I wonder if I could take a sample from you."

"Stipulate."

"A few cells of lung tissue. It requires a small incision."

"Purpose?"

"To set my mind at ease."

"I see no reason for it."

"I didn't ask if you did." McCoy got his medkit. "Open your shirt. Come on. It's not like I haven't seen your chest before."

The com-port buzzed while McCoy capped the tissue in a vial. He listened to the low hum, then said, "It's recording an incoming message."

He waited until the port stopped humming, then hit playback. The visual lit to reveal a striking-looking woman. She had graceful features and rich, brown hair that was swept back over clearly-pointed ears. McCoy swung the screen around. "For you?"

V'Rhsal contemplated the image. "She who was my wife."

McCoy packed up his medkit. "I'll be back later."

---

He took a walk through the wards as he listened to the storm outside. People were moving quickly in the halls, as if the rain had stirred them up.

He stopped by the nurse's station and checked a few charts, then went to the lab. The rats were quiet. The litter had been born but the babies were undersized. Two had already died and the other four were grey. They lay against their mother, hardly moving.

McCoy put the Vulcan's lung tissue under a microscope. He had just bent over the lens when the door signal buzzed loudly in the silence of the room.

"Enter."

The door opened. McCoy heard the storm again as T'Pall, the hospital administrator, came into the room.

McCoy stood up. "En'T'Pall, I am honoured," he said in Vulcan.

"I would speak with you, human Makkoy." Her hard eyes swept over him.

Undaunted, he frowned back. "Will you? I am an unbonded male." She was speaking what he thought was High Vulcan. Very unnecessary and really rude since he was sure she knew he hardly understood it.

"I find it necessary. The family of Mah'Lee indicated their displeasure to me that a human had conducted her autopsy."

McCoy shrugged. "That was her request."

"She was very ill when she reflected this request in her will."

"She was ill but her mind was still sound."

"In your opinion."

"There is nothing in her medical record to indicate that her own physician felt she was otherwise."

T'Pall was quiet and McCoy felt a small flash of victory.

Finally she said, "I am in charge of this facility. Therefore, I must assume responsibility for the actions of all those who work here. This responsibility covers your actions as well. If there is any question or concern arising, I must address it."

"If the concern is based solely on the fact that I am human, there is no logical basis for it."

"Why was her own family physician not in attendance during the autopsy?"

"I asked him. He declined. If Mah'Lee's family has concerns, why don't they just come and see me?"

"Duplication. I am already doing so," T'Pall said.

"Such as it is," McCoy replied. "Look, I'm here because I was asked to help. Khlabar affects twenty percent of your population. Your husband died from it."

"Vulcan is able to manage its own interests."

"Oh, this all comes down to pride, does it?"

"Illogical."

"Then what is this really about?" McCoy asked. "Does this have anything to do with your son?"

She regarded him placidly, unmoved by his outburst. "Seven official requests have been made to you regarding the use of the neural field generator which you and Kór V'Rhsal devised. I assume there have been unofficial requests. You refused all. I wonder what kind of help you truly offer."

"Those requests were for me to implant a generator in a person."

She regarded the rats. "Implantation has been successful with the namachas. A Vulcan suffering from Khlabar is the next, logical step."

"And if they die because of it?" McCoy asked harshly.

"It is a risk you took with these namachas."

"There's a big difference."

"They are living creatures. They have as much right to life as any other creature. However, they do not have the ability to give informed consent."

"People can consent to anything they wish. It doesn't make it right."

"Your human sentimentality has no place here."

"I'm hardly sentimental," McCoy said. "I don't give a sheep's behind what anyone thinks I should be doing next. The fact is that I have not completely ascertained the safety of this surgery. Until I have done so, I will not try it with a person. If anything should happen, it's my responsibility."

"And mine," T'Pall said. "I understand the weight of this decision. I concur with the hospital board that you are delaying unnecessarily."

"I have yet to see either you or anyone from the hospital board in here checking on these rats. I doubt you understand what the generator really does. I bet you haven't even seen it. On what kind of information are you basing your opinion?"

"Our decision was based on the report submitted to the board by your partner, Kór V'Rhsal. I would think that he understands what the generator really does," she said dryly.

McCoy sat down. The floor felt like it had shifted right out from under him. "When did he submit this report?"

"Four days ago."

"And did he recommend implanting a generator in a Vulcan?"

At her silence, McCoy looked up.

"Well?"

T'Pall eyed him back. "His report indicated that it was a logical next stage."

McCoy took a deep breath. "I know it is the next stage too, but did he recommend it?"

"He is an engineer. He would not make a medical recommendation. But I think he concurs that you delay without just cause."

"That is your opinion," McCoy said angrily.

"Then we will ask him. Where is he?" T'Pall reached for a com-link.

"He's sick."

"Confirmation would take one point six minutes. Is he at his house?"

"I don't want to disturb him. He's probably sleeping."

"Verify."

McCoy frowned. "Pardon?"

T'Pall's eyes bored into him. "You are linked with him. Verify if he is asleep."

McCoy blinked. Then, gently, he reached through the link.

v'rhsal, expect a call from your mother...

Out loud, McCoy said, "He's awake."

T'Pall placed the call. "Human Makkoy, you are in danger of having this research taken away from you."

McCoy got up and walked to the back of the lab, embittered. Vulcans acted solely on logic, he knew but he had trusted V'Rhsal more than he had ever trusted anyone.

T'Pall called to him.

bitch, he thought. Damned, pointed eared b-i-t-c... Then he heard V'Rhsal's voice, ragged from his cold.

"While I agree that surgical insertion of the generator in a Vulcan is the next stage, I submit this from a non-medical judgment."

T'Pall glanced at McCoy. "Kór V'Rhsal, has a generator been adapted for a Vulcan nervous system?"

"Yes."

"Do you know of any contra-indications from those rats who have undergone the surgical procedure?"

"No, En'T'Pall."

McCoy felt a wave of anger but clamped his jaw over it.

"Then, do you acknowledge there has been a delay in next-stage implementation?"

"Yes, I do."

McCoy sat down and rubbed his forehead.

"Kór V'Rhsal, would you be willing to work with a replacement physician for the remainder of this research?" T'Pall asked.

"No, I would not."

T'Pall stopped, startled. McCoy glanced up.

"Explain," she said.

There was a pause, then V'Rhsal answered, "I concede a delay between logical progression in this research, however, I must trust Kór McCoy's opinion regarding safety."

T'Pall had turned to look at McCoy. He swallowed, trying to keep any expression off his face.

"Kór V'Rhsal," she said, "The Hospital Board may also decide to remove you from this research."

"Understood. Perhaps you should tell them that I alone hold the patent for the generator design."

"End transmission." T'Pall cut off the feed. Her face was unreadable. She regarded McCoy for a long time before saying, "Kór V'Rhsal's link with you may be overextended."

"That's got nothing to do with the hospital board," McCoy replied quietly.

"I will, of course, consult with them tomorrow."

McCoy stood as she went to leave. "En'T'Pall, I truly am trying to help. Please believe me."

"What did you say?"

McCoy stepped back. "I'm...um...trying to help."

She honoured him with one of the most terrifying looks he had ever received in his life before whirling out the door.

v'rhsal, what did i say?

The Vulcan took a long time to respond.

leonard, we will have to work on your high vulcan.

what did i say?

you told her she had a sehlát up her nose.

McCoy clapped a hand to his mouth.

my lord, i wonder what else i said to her?

---

Sarek of Vulcan made adjustment for the gravity before leaving the meditation chamber. Adapting for various gravitation pulls was not an activity that normally interfered with his ability to concentrate. However, two weeks of feeling too light on his feet and breathing this air's glut of oxygen was making him heady. He'd reset the environment for the chamber this afternoon. Now, after a mere two hours, he felt quite refreshed and ready to resume his work.

He took the turbo to the crew's deck. James Kirk had extended an invitation to him earlier. He knew it was not an invitation at all but an order from the captain of the ship. Though he had been treated with every courtesy, these were strained times.

When he reached the Captain's cabin, he touched the buzzer gently.

"Come."

Jim Kirk was sitting at his desk when Sarek entered, but he rose and extended a chair.

"Ambassador, I thank you for coming." He opened the servitor. "Tea?"

"No, thank you."

"Then we might as well get to it," Kirk shrugged, resuming his chair. "Sarek, we've been sitting at this border for too long now without having any idea what we're doing here."

The Vulcan studied the human. "Three solar months, seventeen days ago, a Romulan embassy official hosted a Klingon entourage. They discussed a planet recently discovered to contain large deposits of anatremium, a planet which is in a grey area of disputed space between their two empires. The meeting lasted several hours, during which time they agreed on nothing. The Klingon party departed after claiming that the next time they visited they would bring a Vulcan who would state their case."

Kirk frowned. "A Vulcan? Who?"

"I do not know. No name was given and no one in my government claims knowledge. The Klingons were apparently most insistent or the Romulan official would not have believed their claim. Sixteen days after the meeting, the Romulan embassy sustained a massive explosion. Two died. Oddly, no cause for the explosion was found. No toxic residue was detected. The explosion originated in the room that had hosted the Klingon delegation. The room above housed some memory banks which were completely destroyed. The data lost was apparently quite sensitive though I have been unable to find out what kind of information specifically had been kept in the banks." Sarek paused for a moment. "Romulan security measures are inordinately exhaustive. They insist the room was carefully screened before and after the meeting. If the Klingons had thought to sabotage the embassy in any way, I am sure that their efforts would have been in vain."

"Yet the Romulans believe the Klingons left a bomb behind?"

Sarek nodded. "I find their logic fails. What kind of weapon is this that does not leave any trace, that does not look like a weapon, that takes sixteen days to explode?"

"It is hard to swallow," Kirk agreed. "If the Klingons had left a bomb, you can bet they would have set it to go off quickly. The longer the fuse, the greater the likelihood that it will be found. It is more likely that whoever left the bomb, if it was one, did so just before it detonated."

"Just after the explosion, the Klingons contacted the Romulans. They said the incident was a gift from their Vulcan friend."

"And, of course, if the Romulans think that a Vulcan is involved, the Federation may be backing him." Kirk frowned. "But it's ludicrous. I can't say I've met that many Vulcans but I don't believe your people spend much time developing weaponry. On the other hand, it makes more sense. A Vulcan could walk around Romulan stations without too much of a problem. Even to sensor scans, Vulcans and Romulans are fairly similar."

"No rational Vulcan would commit such an act," Sarek said, then added quietly, "unless it was...logical." He paused before continuing impassively. "The Klingon Government has indicated that their Vulcan friend will vandalize another Romulan embassy if the Klingons are not given mining rights."

"Did they say when this would take place?"

"Actually, it was scheduled for today."

Kirk blinked. "And...?"

"I have no more information at this point than you do, Captain."

"Did the Klingons happen to say which Romulan embassy?"

Sarek looked away. "The one around which we are in orbit, the embassy on Allát."

PART FOURTEEN

Soltar stood behind McCoy, holding a piece of gauze to his arm.

"Thanks for the blood."

"Is this a human custom, to thank?"

McCoy shrugged. "Only for us polite ones." He put a drop of Soltar's blood on a microscope slide and checked it quickly. "Nice and green and healthy. If I'm not prying, how old are you?"

The Vulcan regarded the visual from the slide. "Seventy-eight seasons."

"Do you know if there have been any cases of Khlabar in someone so young?"

"No, I do not."

"I suppose it doesn't matter for my purposes. I wondered if age has anything to do with how well the body can fight off the infection," McCoy donned some gloves and retrieved a small test tube from the cooling unit. "I'm going to give your blood sample some of the vaccine and then infect it with Khlabar."

"How long will you wait between vaccination and infection?"

"I'm not going to wait," McCoy put a drop from the test tube into the vial holding Soltar's blood and then dropped the vial into a centrifuge.

McCoy and Soltar had infected the vaccinated namacha, and he was living a healthy, happy life. McCoy had returned him to the cage with the infected rats and he discovered the joys of females...and lived happily. McCoy then vaccinated and infected three other animals, a small chooni which looked like a squirrel, an oroz which was related to sehlats, and Soltar's house pet, the dog-like lejár.

"I do appreciate all your help with this, especially risking your lejár."

"What little I have done has been an honour," Soltar replied Though his face was always a mask of Vulcan placidity, McCoy had come to recognize the small nuances in the tones.

Soltar retrieved the vial from the centrifuge as McCoy got another test tube from the cooling unit.

"Well, here goes nothing," McCoy infected the blood. Then he and the Vulcan stood back to watch the microscope screen.

The infected Khlabar cells were easy to spot. They moved fast, as if they'd been in jail and had finally been released. They attacked the healthy blood cells, encasing them. McCoy's heart sunk as he watched.

"Damn..." he said but Soltar shook his head.

"Leonard, look."

The Khlabar cells were unable to gain a foothold. They died slowly, their membrances rupturing. Within a few minutes, the infection was overwhelmed.

McCoy exchanged a look with Soltar.

"Infect the sample again, Leonard."

He did so, and the results were the same.

McCoy stared at the microscope screen as a flush spread across his shoulder blades. "Soltar, do I dare think...?"

He turned and Soltar was smiling.

---

V'Rhsal raised his glass solemnly. "Is this the correct human custom, Leonard?"

McCoy laughed as he repeated the gesture. "Yes."

"To your success," the Vulcan said.

McCoy took a sip of the altair water. "I don't want to sound premature, V'Rhsal but..."

"I will qualify. To your success to date."

"V'Rhsal, *our* success to date."

"Leonard, you were the one who thought of making a vaccine from the cells in lung tissue rather than from blood cells. It was your idea to surgically insert the generator. My contribution consisted of a theory which had to be discarded."

"You're right," McCoy said. "Making a neural field generator that weighs a mere quarter of an ounce is hardly anything to be proud of."

V'Rhsal raised an eyebrow, catching the joke.

"I've rather enjoyed the consequences of this," McCoy admitted. "Particularily the look on your mother's face when she tried to have us removed from the research on the same day that we presented the results of the vaccination tests to the Science Academy."

"I was not aware of any expression of emotion on her facial features," V'Rhsal said.

McCoy grinned. "Didn't it feel good to get the last word with her?"

"Feel?" V'Rhsal asked stiffly. Then he relaxed and met McCoy's eyes. "I concede, Leonard. It did feel good."

McCoy had spent the morning in meetings with the medical directors of four hospitals. He had agreed to vaccinate a small group of volunteer Vulcans who already had some contact with Khlabar. He refused to deliberately expose anyone to the disease. Surprisingly, all four physicians agreed. He had sat at the table, ready with a mouthful of humanitarian cautions and ended up simply swallowing them.

McCoy drained his altair water and set the glass down. "I infected an oroz with Khlabar and he's starting to show some symptoms. Once it's full-blown, I'm going to put a generator in him."

"And if that procedure works?" V'Rhsal prompted softly.

"If it works, and if I see no evidence of anything untoward, I'll seriously consider...a person."

"Time duration?"

McCoy shrugged. "A month?"

V'Rhsal nodded as he sat at the kitchen table. "Your leave ends in four months, six point five days. That should be a sufficient time frame."

"Vulcan physicians are more qualified to work with Vulcan patients. I could return to the Enterprise earlier, if needed," McCoy said, trying to word the thought discreetly.

To his surprise, V'Rhsal answered openly. "Sah'Sheer is not expected here for over two years, Leonard and, in this procedure, you are more qualified than any other physician, Vulcan or otherwise."

"I'm not trying to pry."

"This is your concern as well. Your link with me was the catalyst for her withdrawal." The Vulcan picked up a computer tape and regarded it without really seeing it, his gaze abstracted. "There are subjects which Vulcans do not discuss, not with outworlders, not between themselves. I have, however, been able to trust the most personal matters with you. I do sense a...worry in your mind regarding that which is unspoken. I will tell you. Sah'Sheer will return to me to fulfil family obligation."

McCoy sat down as well. "It's not just that. How is she going to react when she finds out about that one morning?"

"Irrelevant to her, Leonard. It was between you and me."

"In human culture these incidents are kind of relevant."

V'Rhsal eyed the doctor dispassionately. "Interesting. However, I would not dishonour your right of privacy by offering such information to her. It does not logically concern her as it was outside the bounds of our betrothal and marriage."

"But I have a suspicion she has acted with a logic you may not comprehend," McCoy said. He chose his next words carefully. "V'Rhsal, I do worry. I have witnessed this Vulcan madness. It is not a death I would wish on anyone." He paused before adding, "I don't know what inferences you have made regarding the assumed phaser blast to your kitchen floor and the destruction of your flyer. We still haven't had word on that potentially explosive plant we grew. But I infer that you suspect her somehow or you would not have changed the security system codes without her knowledge."

"Do you not also suspect her?"

McCoy shook his head. "Based on what I know of motivation and despite that I have never met her, I distrust her. But I think I distrust her more with regard to you than with our research. I can't believe a Vulcan capable of such destruction under these circumstances."

"Then, Leonard, who would you suspect?"

"A non-Vulcan."

V'Rhsal lifted a disdainful eyebrow. "That encompasses the galaxy."

"No, just anyone listening in on subspace chatter."

"Your theory not only requires a suspect but a motive."

"But yours has too many holes. What would your wife want with the plant? Someone has it."

"The plant has probably been destroyed by now."

"I didn't hear a kaboom. That bunch of leaves would have blown with the force of three tons of TNT."

"Three tons? I am sure I calculated three point six."

McCoy sighed as he got up to make tea.

---

The water was crystalline and warm. No trace of the storms remained. McCoy enjoyed the easy warmth of the lake even as the relentless sun seemed to scorch his back through his shirt.

"This is beautiful."

V'Rhsal, sitting barefoot in the sand behind him, shrugged. "I do not understand your fascination with water."

"What fascination? I'm just enjoying it."

They had taken a deliberate break today, McCoy from the confines of the artificial light in the hospital and V'Rhsal from the dark of his underground lab.

"When I was a boy, I used to spend the summers fishing."

"If I understand correctly what that is, it is barbaric."

"Only to a culture that begs forgiveness from plants before pulling them from the ground."

"We do not 'beg'. We ask."

McCoy smiled. "Whatever."

He walked along the shoreline. "I learned to swim when my father took me to see the great Pacific ocean. It's not easy to learn in salt water. You can hardly sink low enough to paddle." He kicked up some of the bottom mud and watched it swirl in the soft tide. "We went the next summer to the Atlantic but that ocean is cold."

The Vulcan got up and followed. "My father maintained inter-business communication systems. I accompanied him to see some of the installations. I found the organization and theory of the system intriguing."

McCoy glanced back. "But you didn't follow in his footsteps."

V'Rhsal frowned. "Pardon, Leonard?"

"You didn't end up with the same job."

"It was not necessary that I do so." The Vulcan stopped suddenly. "Thenés."

McCoy hadn't realized he'd walked so far. He turned back, away from the upthrust red rocks.

"Some sights are for Vulcan eyes only."

"Yes, I know," McCoy said, retreating past V'Rhsal. The Vulcan did not follow.

"You have kept Vulcan secrets. This I will show you."

McCoy glanced at the rocks. "V'Rhsal, I don't really wish to see it. I just wondered why it was so wrong to see it."

V'Rhsal looked across the sand. "Before Surak, Vulcans believed in many things. They believed in outside forces which ruled us, controlled our actions and thoughts. These forces had names and protocol. They were born of false superstition and base fear and we believed that they lived with us." He turned to the doctor. "Surak, in order to overcome these superstitions, undertook a journey alone, in this place. These hot sands were almost inaccessible by foot, impossible to survive in. He came out here alone and survived three months before returning to the cities. He claimed that, during his journey here, he called and captured those forces which controlled us. He said that they were responsible for war, for fear and distrust. He named them and said he had encased them in stones, these stones, forever locked away." He walked toward Thenés and McCoy started after.

It took nearly half an hour of hard walking in the sand. The rocks seemed to grow as they neared. Dark red, they stood twice McCoy's height and many times his width.

V'Rhsal neared but did not touch the enormous stones. "Do not look to their top, Leonard. It is...bad luck."

McCoy lowered his gaze. "I didn't think you believed in luck."

"This has nothing to do with belief. This is our history," V'Rhsal answered. "I stand by the first, the prison of Aälom who plagued with visions and dreams. Next is Moru, she of many griefs. After comes Asfèl who brought anger and madness, and beside him is the encasement of Iâko who stirred the tumults of the sea and air." V'Rhsal walked on slowly. The wind seemed to fight around these rocks. McCoy, feeling alternately silly and spooked, followed closely.

"Ekla, who sought power and dominion. Next is Cikk who invoked lust and desire. This is the hold of Jarë, who gave hunger, and then Icces who brought the cold." He stopped by the last rock and laid his hand on it. McCoy put his hand next to the Vulcan's, then quickly jerked it away.

"It's hot."

In a whisper, V'Rhsal said, "Uvaar, the murderer."

McCoy took a breath. "They're just rocks."

"We know that now. I suspect Vulcan knew it then. Surak did no more here than seek shade and meditate."

"Why did he make up such a story?"

"We needed to believe him, then and now." V'Rhsal looked up at McCoy. "This is the purpose of Emlék, the Ritual of Remembrance." He started walking again. "We must retrace our steps. Then we may go in."

McCoy trailed the Vulcan's steps, sweating in the heat. When they got to the first rock, V'Rhsal squeezed around it. McCoy hesitantly followed suit and found himself in a dim, circular area. A cloudy dome, looking small in the vastness around it, lay in the centre of the rocky floor.

"Such as he has lain," V'Rhsal whispered.

McCoy took a few steps, then murmured, "Oh my Lord..."

A yellowed skeleton lay inside the dome. Some of the leg bones lay askew but the arms were thrust out wide. The fingerbones were clenched in on themselves, as if agonized. Several ribs were completely shattered. The top of the skull was buried in the ground. But worse was the huge saber, jammed through the pelvic area. The long curve of the blade ran through the backbone and the tip of the sword cracked through the jawbone and forced it up towards the sky.

"He had many enemies, many who threatened and chased him. But it was his own wife who killed him."

"I thought she killed him somewhere else, um...éhes vegel."

V'Rhsal nodded. "He was moved here. It was felt this place was more fitting."

"And when they moved him, they laid him in this position?" McCoy asked in a hushed tone.

"It was the position in which he died." The Vulcan glanced around at the rocks. McCoy noted he was careful not to look to the tops of them. "Vulcan has carried many taboos from past time to the present, even though they seem illogical to outworlders. We do this to keep ever reminded of the way it was. We hold Surak's name in tribute but the purpose of this place is not to honour him. It is to honour that which he believed in. He was not a `magician' . He did not seek to dazzle or amaze. He was simply a Vulcan male who developed a philosophy that stands to this day." He took a step back the way they had come. "Leonard, this sight you must not reveal. You must observe Vulcan code of silence."

He walked out of the circle and McCoy came after him, quiet in his thoughts. It was easier going to return to the lake, to the blinding play of sun on waves. McCoy looked across the water for a while, then said, "I just want a quick swim. I get tired of sonic showers."

He stripped off his clothing and dove in. The Vulcan waited patiently, hands clasped behind his back. McCoy floated, feeling the sun across his stomach.

you will get another burn.

it's worth it.

that is not what you said the night you could not sleep and your skin hurt even from contact with the air.

McCoy smiled.

ok. ok. i'll come back in.

---

McCoy heard the com-port buzzing from the kitchen. Sighing, he put down his fork and plodded into the living room. It had been a long day at the hospital. All he wanted to do now was eat and sleep.

Soltar was at the other end. "My apologies for interrupting, Leonard. I wished to inform you that there is a volunteer for the surgery."

"Already?"

"Ten volunteered."

"There's only ten on the ward."

"Yes. I made a random selection, as per your instructions. His name is Kór Stoll."

McCoy frowned. "And does he know that I'll be the one operating?"

"Of course, Leonard. They all knew. Do you wish me to book a surgery for you?"

McCoy paused, then nodded. "Yes. Tomorrow afternoon if possible. And, thanks Soltar."

He ended the transmission and stood in the dark room. Though the oroz he'd operated on last month had developed a slight swallowing problem, there'd been nothing else. The same procedure with an igerret had gone smoothly. Still...

He returned to the kitchen, dumped the food, and went up to bed. The house was quiet. The wind outside had died down and the moons were gentle in the sky. He was lying in bed, listening to his chronometer, when V'Rhsal returned home. The security system beeped as it was put through a check. A few minutes later, soft footsteps passed by his door.

He stretched out on his pillow, trying to get comfortable. It was very hot tonight and perspiration slid freely off his legs and arms.

The Vulcan entered the room and asked, "Leonard, why are you not sleeping?"

McCoy rolled over. "What the hell does this look like? An ito-fër game? Look, just because you get a little moody after these family dinners--"

"I am a Vulcan. I am not...moody."

"Horseradish."

V'Rhsal blinked. "Leonard, I checked in at the hospital. You are scheduled to operate on a Vulcan tomorrow afternoon at 1330 hours. You have been working very hard these past eleven days. Is it not wise to rest as much as possible tonight?"

"You're nervous too, aren't you? After all, that's your thingamabob I'm gonna put in a person."

"Thingamabob?" V'Rhsal shook his head.

"Admit it."

"I am incapable of nervous behaviour. But I am unable to rest due to yours."

"Sorry."

"You have not experienced any sleeping problems since the memory of your mother's death was returned to your conscious mind. Could there be a further issue here?"

"Thanks for putting it so delicately, V'Rhsal, but no, I'm fine."

The Vulcan frowned. "You are not still suffering from that sunburn on your--?"

"Will you stop reminding me of that?"

"Have you had any word from your ship?"

At McCoy's silence, the Vulcan nodded and left.

PART FIFTEEN

Stoll was a large, swarthy Vulcan, intimidating despite the evidence of Khlabar in his actions. When McCoy entered his hospital room, he carefully studied the doctor up and down before speaking.

"You are the Healer Makkoy?"

"Yes, Leonard McCoy."

"I have heard much of you."

McCoy pulled a chair to the bedside. "I wanted to take some time to speak with you before the surgery this afternoon. I also wanted to give you a medical check."

"Have you not reviewed my chart?"

"Yes, but I'd prefer a quick check too. Do you have any objections?"

"No, it is logical. You may proceed."

McCoy took out his scanner and took some readings. "Has anyone told you about the neural field generator designed by my partner?"

"I have reviewed its specifications and am aware of its use in a namacha, an oroz and a igerret."

"Aware of its use? Interesting term. Do you know what happened specifically?"

Stoll regarded McCoy. "Indicate."

"The generator completely reroutes the path of 6-hydroseron in the cerebellum. It can be likened to a neural disrupter."

"A disrupter is a weapon."

McCoy shrugged. "That's its most deliberate use. I have been monitoring the animals with the generator very carefully and I have found no evidence of damage. However, the oroz has experienced a swallowing impairment and is on a pureed diet."

Stoll thought for a moment. "Do you foresee other results?"

"To be honest, this is a complete unknown for medicine," McCoy replied. "I traced the route of 6-hydroseron carefully and Kór V'Rhsal's design of the generator is quite precise. I want you to know, there are potential risks with any surgery and moreso when you are the first to undergo a procedure."

"That is a natural assumption."

"I wish to check four of your reflexes, Kór Stoll. This will require touching you."

"Proceed."

McCoy braced his own mental shields, then found he needn't have bothered. Stoll's were steel.

"The generator will be fixed just above the second dorsal. It's ilidium-powered so you're looking at twenty years of power. I'll need to make a two inch, lateral incision. To put it in, run a few tests and close will take about an hour and half. I'll have to use a general anaesthetic. Do you have any questions so far?"

"No, I do not, Healer."

"Has the lab been in to do bloodwork?"

"Yes, and I have undergone enhanced scanning."

"Well, I just wanted to have a look, see where I'm going," McCoy smiled but his bedside manner was lost on this patient. "When was the last time you ate?"

"I have fasted for ten point three hours."

"Good." McCoy put his scanner away. "I'll be assisted by your physician and by another surgeon, Kór Soltar. Judging by my observations, I expect you may have some mild, temporary impairment in your sensory reactions from the second dorsal down. It shouldn't last more than a few hours. I'll be with you when the anaesthetic wears off but I don't want you to try moving anything until I tell you to, and I definitely want you to avoid the healing trance. The generator has to sit quiet for a little while or your body will try to bypass it. I'll be lowering your immune system's reactions as well so your antibodies don't attack it. That means no visitors and you'll be in a sterile field."

"Understood."

McCoy packed his medkit away. "I'll be back just before surgery."

---

He had rediscovered the traditional intern pose, chair tilted back against the wall, legs stretched out and braced on the bed frame, arms crossed and chin on chest. It was the closest you could get to laying down while being on call.

It was just after 1600 hours and he could hear the supper carts in the hall. His stomach rumbled as they went by. He hadn't eaten since breakfast but he wanted to be here when Stoll woke up.

The Vulcan stirred once, then quieted. A few moments later, his eyes opened.

McCoy stretched, then stood. "Easy, Kór Stoll."

Stoll tried to focus. He blinked.

"Feeling fuzzy? It'll go away," McCoy said, pulling out his scanner. "Are you in any pain?"

The Vulcan tried to speak but his throat was hoarse. He shook his head.

"Here." McCoy gave him some water, then resumed his examination. "The surgery went very well. No problems. The generator is sitting at the base of your skull and it ran just beautifully in simulation during the procedure. However, like I told you, your body is trying to figure out what it is. So I don't want you going into a healing trance or even trying to control pain. Your physician left a prn order for painkillers with the nurse on this floor. I want you to let her know if you need anything. I don't want you in any distress."

"...understood..." Stoll managed.

McCoy tapped the Vulcan's fingers. "Can you feel this?"

"...yes..."

"And this?"

"...yes..."

"Good." McCoy glanced at the diagnostic screen over the bed. "Any tingling or numbness in your arms or legs?"

"A slight numbness in my left hand."

"Can you make a fist?" McCoy asked.

Stoll shook his head. McCoy glanced at him.

"Try."

"Healer Makkoy, I am unable to use my left side due to Khlabar."

"Stoll, remember I said not to try moving anything unless I told you to? Well, I'm telling you. Make a fist with your left hand."

Stoll blinked at McCoy's no-nonsense tone. Then, slowly, he attempted contracting his fingers. They moved slightly.

McCoy noted the diagnostic readings, then pulled out another scanner. "The generator is humming along."

"Humming?" Stoll questioned. He coughed and McCoy gave him more water.

"Just a human term," McCoy said. "I was talking to a physiotherapist after surgery and she's going to come in here tomorrow morning and do some exercises with you. Because you've been unable to use your left arm and leg, you've got some muscle atrophy. She and your physician are designing a program so that we can get you back walking."

Stoll swallowed, his face losing a bit of it's impassive expression. "I am unable to walk due to the effects of the disease."

"And I'm telling you that you're going to walk. Your tendons have shortened. I warn you, physio will hurt." McCoy put his scanners away. "I've started you on some anti-immune drugs. So, no visitors except your doctor and the physiotherapist, all right?"

Stoll raised an eyebrow.

"Don't be stubborn."

"Stubborn?" the Vulcan echoed hesitantly.

McCoy smiled. "I'll come see you tomorrow afternoon. Try and get some sleep."

---

McCoy stacked the empty cages and labelled them for sterilization. Very few rats were left in the hot lab and most of the equipment had been taken away.

The door opened and V'Rhsal entered. He glanced quickly around.

"You have been cleaning."

McCoy nodded. "I hope I didn't interrupt you when I called this afternoon but I thought it might help if you met Kór Stoll."

"For what purpose, Leonard?"

McCoy took a seat. "He won't walk, won't even attempt to weight bear. He claims that Khlabar has advanced too far."

"He was in terminal stage before you operated."

"He was but I expect he'll be around long enough to have the generator's power source replaced."

V'Rhsal raised an eyebrow. "That is encouraging."

McCoy smiled. "When we first met, you told me Vulcans were not able to believe in illogical things. You said only humans seemed to be able to heal themselves when rational belief told them they were incurable."

"I remember."

"Well, Stoll has a big case of the logics. He knows he was unable to walk before surgery and his doctor told him he'll never walk again. So he won't try."

"Why did you call me, Leonard?"

"I want you to explain the generator to him. I tried but he's too smart for me and I don't understand the schematics. I know he could walk."

"Perhaps there are other factors," V'Rhsal said.

"Nice try but I've already had three physicians playing devil's advocate with me today," McCoy replied, amused. "Kór Stoll had no use of his left arm before. In fact, he had no feeling left. Now he not only has sensation but he can make a fist, hold objects, and make fine movements such as writing. But to get him to do that took a lot of convincing. It took a whole morning of yelling."

"You raised your voice to your patient?"

"I practically shook him silly. He's a stubborn bugger."

"I am willing to explain the generator's function to him, if you think it will help. I do not have your bedside manner however."

McCoy stood. "Can't have everything."

As they walked to the ward, V'Rhsal said, "I have patented the adapted generator design and have sent it to the teaching facility's lab for production. Seven generators should be ready for use by the end of the week."

"One step at a time, V'Rhsal," McCoy said softly.

"How does the vaccine progress?"

"One of the volunteers deliberately infected himself with Khlabar after I vaccinated him. I chewed him out but he just kept giving me this dumb look and saying, 'but it was logical, healer'. However, he has no signs and no trace of infection in his blood. I was wondering if you would care to be vaccinated yourself. It's a quick hypo in the arm, that's all."

"As soon as we have spoken with Kór Stoll."

"As soon as you have spoken. After my last shouting match with him, I don't think he cares to see much of me right now." McCoy shook his head. "Stubborn Vulcans. You're all so damned aggravating."

V'Rhsal regarded the human with a droll look before asking, "Which room is his, Leonard?"

"The one at the end. I'll be in the nurse's station."

---

The Romulan embassy on the neutral planet Allát rumbled and rocked quietly to itself before spilling in a cataract of plastic, tintanium-sheeting, and glass.

On the bridge of the Enterprise, Spock raised his head. "Captain, sensors are registering a disturbance on the planet surface."

Kirk spun his chair to face the science station. "What kind of disturbance?"

"Ground disturbance, co-ordinates LJ five, intersect seventeen point three, in the planet's capital city."

Uhura spoke up. "Captain, I've lost the carrier signal from the Romulan embassy."

"Spock?"

The Vulcan straightened. "I believe it was the embassy. No detectable radiation, no trace of any known chemical toxin. Playback does not indicate any unusual sensor readings prior to the disturbance."

"Damage?"

"From the force indicated, I would say damage would be quite extensive, radiating to a maximum squared area of three point eight two kilometres."

"Damn..." Kirk looked over to the communication's station. "Uhura, buzz Ambassador Sarek's quarters and ask him to come to the bridge, then raise our embassy planetside. Tell them we can offer medical assistance."

"Yes sir."

"Spock, I want you to take readings of the damaged area very carefully. If we're allowed to send medical assistance, I want you to go along and do a thorough scan. Look for any signs of sabotage."

"This is a neutral planet."

"I know, Spock," Kirk said, "and I hope it stays that way."

PART SIXTEEN

McCoy scratched at his throat.

stupid collar! who designs these things anyway? embittered women?

V'Rhsal gave McCoy a small look before refastening the doctor's top buttons.

i sense agitation, leonard.

i hate going anywhere that requires dressing in a noose.

still, you must concede that very few humans receive the vulcan science academy accolade of achievement. you have well-earned this tribute.

we have well-earned this tribute.

leonard, you discovered a vaccine. you not only conceded the possibility of implanting a generator but did so successfully, more than once.

no, v'rhsal. we did this. together! you're in for halfsies, vulcan. don't try to wriggle out of it.

V'Rhsal gave the buttons a last tug.

is this more comfortable?

no.

V'Rhsal put on his coat.

i trust you have nothing more to delay you and that we are ready to depart.

McCoy put on his shoes. He got as far as the door.

just a minute.

V'Rhsal, halfway onto the porch, stopped.

what is it now?

i have to go to the bathroom.

again, leonard?

have a little sympathy. i'm going to be up on a stage in front of three hundred some odd people.

so am i, but it has not affected my bladder.

so help me, if you think one more nasty thought, i'm not going.

---

The Academy reception hall was overflowing with formally-dressed, somber Vulcans. Leonard McCoy, human, edged in behind V'Rhsal and groaned.

"Good Lord...."

V'Rhsal permitted a slight smile in the doctor's direction. "Do you wish to know where the washroom facilities are here as well?"

"I'd watch your step if I were you. Remember, it's my turn to cook dinner tomorrow."

An elderly Vulcan stepped up to McCoy and, in halting standard, said, "Healer Kór Makkoy, I extend greetings. I am Strik, First Preceptor."

The doctor, startled, replied, "Um...thank you. If it is easier, I do speak orthodox Vulcan."

Strik switched to Vulcan. "Kór V'Rhsal, welcome."

He led them to a table by the podium. As they walked through the crowd, McCoy felt himself keenly scrutinized, dissected by a mass of pointed ears and sharp eyebrows.

v'rhsal...am i the only human here?

it certainly appears so, leonard.

it's that version of hell i've always worried about.

When they were seated, the hall quieted. McCoy stared into his altair water, avoiding the mass of pale-green faces. It was bitterly hot, worse due to the crowd, and the altair water was warm.

Strik stepped up on the podium.

"Academy associates, advocates, sponsors, invited guests...I introduce to you Healer Kór Makkoy and Kór V'Rhsal who have accomplished one of the furthest goals of medical research. To describe their results, and, in deference to Kór Makkoy, I will use a human word for which there is no Vulcan correlation. The value of their work is inestimable."

McCoy felt a weight of deep silence. He hesitantly looked up then heard the pull of V'Rhsal's sudden intake of breath. Every Vulcan in the hall was standing. Their arms were raised, palms forward, in the solemn gesture of the Vulcan salute.

---

McCoy, holding a cup of real coffee, leant against the doorway. V'Rhsal, who had been prowling the edges of the living room, turned.

the coffee smells good, eh? want some?

momentarily.

McCoy tried to keep a smile off his face.

looking for the best place to display it?

i am merely judging the effect of light and shade on this wall.

the fact that this is the first view you have of this room from the doorway has nothing to do with it. that wall is obviously better than this wall here.

V'Rhsal hefted the plaque, then set it carefully on a table.

it should logically be hung in a place best suited in dignity.

and in a place where it stares back at you.

leonard.

come on. i think you should be very proud.

pride has nothing to do with it. we have accomplished a goal, and done so one year ahead of schedule.

i hope we've done so.

V'Rhsal turned to the doctor.

the vaccine works. stoll, the first on whom you operated, walked without hindrance to the stage and presented you with the award.

i'm just cautious, that's all. I hope he's still walking ten years from now.

it is not logical, leonard, that you are prompt to acknowledge success in others but slow to see it in yourself. if he walks a week from now, it is still more than he would have had otherwise.

V'Rhsal went into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of the heady black coffee. McCoy followed more slowly and took a seat at the table across from the Vulcan.

you've gotten suddenly quiet.

V'Rhsal finally looked up, his eyes unreadable.

leonard, i asked much from you. the hardest was the meld. i am uncertain how distressful and painful it truly was for you.

McCoy shrugged.

as i'm unsure how it was for you. perhaps that's because it's more than a meld.

we are bond.

McCoy swirled his coffee around the bottom of his cup and managed a smile.

sure is one of the oddest things that's ever happened to me, i can tell you.

leonard, is there any reason to remain bond to each other?

McCoy took a long time to answer.

i...suppose not.

V'Rhsal set his cup down. Out loud, he asked, "Will you be returning to the Enterprise soon?"

McCoy cleared his throat.

"I thought I might wait until third season. We still haven't isolated the virus that causes Khlabar and I'd like to give that a try."

"If we end the meld, you would no longer have to remain celibate."

McCoy laughed. "Ending the meld wouldn't change that, even if I didn't stay on Vulcan."

V'Rhsal eyed the doctor, unsure of the humour. Finally, he said, "You have been offered honourary citizenship. You may remain quite freely."

"Well, I hardly want to live here. Bloody boring planet." McCoy drained his cup. "Anyway, I've got my eye on a room near the university. I've been asked to do a few lectures."

"Leonard, you have a room here."

The doctor got up to refill his cup, staring into the dark liquid. "V'Rhsal, I have to ask you two very personal questions. The first is, when is your next cycle?"

He glanced at the Vulcan but V'Rhsal remained dispassionate. "Two years, Leonard."

"Second, when is your wife returning?"

"Two years."

"That's cutting it awful close." McCoy returned to the table. "I don't know much about it, but I kinda of think there isn't really a schedule to it at all. It could be in two years. It could be one or three years, right?"

V'Rhsal's eyes darkened. "It is unpredictable."

"She's out of touch with you. How is she going to know when to return?"

"I will tell her."

"And she'll come?"

"She will come."

McCoy looked across at the stoic features. "Then, there is no longer any reason to remain melded, my friend."

---

The wailing of the ship's automatic red alert was the first indication of the Klingon scoutship. The second indication was the visual. She literally drifted into view, propelled by harsh, solar tides, spinning silently to reveal a black, bubbled tear in her hull. Kirk frowned at the sight.

"Spock?"

"Klingon scoutship, class T, standard crew of eight to twelve. Low power functioning. Losing atmospheric pressure. No life signs."

Kirk eyed the ship. "What happened to her?"

"Sensors show extensive damage radiating from the ship's lower decks. Likely an explosion from inside the ship. Cause undeterminable without a closer inspection."

"No automatic beacon, Captain," Uhura said. "No distress signal."

"It happened without warning. Where did she drift from?"

Chekov looked up. "Course computations show back-course from quadrant TP5, dead space."

"Spock, any idea how long ago this happened?"

The Vulcan shook his head. "Unable to compute from this range, Captain."

Kirk swung back to the viewscreen. "Chekov, take an Away Team. Do a complete scan. Back on board in thirty minutes."

"Yes, sir." Chekov turned his station over to his relief and left the bridge.

---

Kirk looked up as Sarek stepped onto the bridge.

"Ambassador," he acknowledged.

"If I may, Captain."

Kirk nodded. Sarek took a place beside the science station. He studied the viewscreen which was relaying tricorder images from the Away Team.

"Have your men found any survivors?"

"No," Kirk replied. "They've found nine dead, five from the explosion and four from the atmospheric breach."

"Unfortunate," Sarek commented.

The interior of the Klingon ship was dim and smoky, the air heavy with dust and debris. The only lights were from the ship's failing emergency system and from the torches carried by the Away Team.

"The source of the explosion seems to be their medical sickbay," came Chekov's filtered voice.

Kirk could see him, ahead of the yeoman carrying the tricorder visual. He turned, to look back briefly, then shook his head and continued on, stepping carefully over piles of wrenched metal and plastic. Thick black cables swayed gently from the ship's motion. Chekov checked them with a scanner before moving them away.

"Their atmosphere isn't going to last too much longer, Captain. What should we do with the bodies?"

"Leave them. We don't want any accusations of interference by the Klingon government."

Chekov paused then said something too low for Kirk to hear.

"Pavel?"

"I said this must have been their greenhouse."

He stepped over a dark mass on the floor, then continued down a hallway. "Damage is much worse here. We're definitely getting close to the source of the blast."

The walls had bent out from the shock. Chekov, holding his arms out straight from him, was unable to touch the sides of a normally one metre width hallway. He looked down at the floor, then turned around, looking puzzled.

"We can't go much further, Captain. The floor won't take our weight. As well, tricorder readings indicate the hull breach is on the other side of this door. I don't dare open it."

"All right. Finish up your scans. Can you get to the engine room?" Kirk asked.

"We'll try."

Chekov pulled his men around and they backtracked. The tricorder visual grew jerky.

"There's a lot of...strange wreckage on the floor, Captain. Organic material. It almost looks like..." Chekov frowned. "Like a burnt garden."

"Direct scan feed to the science officer," Kirk said.

"Organic remains. Plant tissue," Spock said. "Nothing of interest."

"We still haven't found a cause for the explosion," Chekov said. "There's nothing in their engine room to explain it."

He swung the beam from a torch toward the floor. Long, leafless brown vines lay clumped and inert around his feet. Sarek suddenly came down beside Kirk's chair.

"Captain, call your men back."

Kirk glanced over at the Ambassador, puzzled by the tension in Sarek's tone.

"Ambassador?"

"They are in imminent danger."

"From what? All the Klingons died in the explosion."

Sarek studied the visual on the viewscreen. "The plant tissue is the source of the explosion and there is a vast amount of it remaining. Call your men back."

Kirk eyed Sarek for a moment, then glanced at Spock. "Spock, inform transporter room."

"All right, Captain."

"Now it's up to you to explain, Ambassador."

Sarek glanced around the bridge. "Perhaps somewhere more private, Captain."

Kirk rose. "Uhura, when Chekov returns, have him report to briefing room one. Spock, Ambassador, after you."

POST SEVENTEEN

Sarek took a seat in the middle of the briefing room table, across from Chekov who was just removing his portable life support system. "The plant came from Vulcan. I do not know who the Vulcan contact is with the Klingons but this does prove that they do, indeed, have such a contact."

"I do not recognize the plant tissue," Spock said.

"I do," Sarek said. "It is artificial, carbon-based vegetation, designed and grown by your associate, Dr. Leonard McCoy, and by Kór V'Rhsal. The plant was stolen from their laboratory."

"I thought they were doing medical research," Kirk said.

Sarek nodded. "They are. Dr. McCoy and Kór V'Rhsal grew two plant models of the cerebellum. The first destroyed itself. The second is on the Klingon scoutship."

"You still haven't told me why it's so dangerous," Kirk said.

"It is the source of the explosion," Sarek said.

Kirk and Spock exchanged a look before Spock said, "The force of the explosion that caused the damage to the Klingon ship was the equivalent of force point three megatons."

Sarek nodded thoughtfully. "It is possible."

"Check the scans," Kirk said. Chekov, who had remained silent throughout the conversation, nodded and pulled a terminal to him.

"Organic, tetravalent-bonded carbon, rudimentary structure. A couple of steps down on the molecular scale from a simple earth vine. Length..." he studied the readings. "It extends throughout all decks and ventways. Minimum - nineteen kilometres. Mass...immeasurable."

"Nineteen kilometres?" Kirk sat forward.

"The exact length is also immeasurable as the plant appears to have many strands looping and doubling back," Chekov said.

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "It does resemble nerve fibre. There are equivalent pathways comprising dendrites, axons, even synapses, some of which measure mere thousandths of a millimetre."

"McCoy and V'Rhsal grew this?" Kirk questioned. "Why?"

"It was smaller when in their laboratory," Sarek said. "It is, or was, an exact model of a Vulcan cerebellum. They used the plant model during initial tests with the generator."

"Fascinating," Spock said in a low tone.

"It has taken them two Vulcan years to come to this point in their research. Their work with the plant tissue also revealed some intriguing aspects of brain tissue. Our brain cells store energy in reserve pockets. These pockets are easily breached, must be so in order to be useful to the brain. The energy contained in the pockets in a plant model of such a size can be quite potent. Dr. McCoy told me that most disruptions of the cell walls surrounding the stored energy did not cause much reaction. He named these pockets...Snarks."

"Snarks?" Chekov repeated. Kirk saw Spock raise a thoughtful eyebrow.

"However, some breaching of the walls had quite disastrous results."

"Meaning, they exploded," Kirk said.

"Yes," said Sarek. "While this is a normal chemical reaction in compact brain tissue, it is something very different in plant tissue weighing seven hundred point eight five three kilograms, as it weighed when they owned it. The potential stored in those tracings was enormous. Those specific energy pockets that detonated vigorously were named Boojums. Since the results of breaking a cell wall surrounding stored energy could not be judged beforehand, the naming of the pockets Snarks and Boojums is quite descriptive."

Kirk glanced at the visual that had been recorded by the Away Team's scanners. "It looks like a dead fern, a big dead fern. I find it hard to believe that it blew out the back of a scoutship."

Sarek continued more quietly. "Dr. McCoy and Kór V'Rhsal understood how dangerous the plant model was. When they grew the second one, they kept it in a containment field."

"From where it was stolen," Kirk prompted, noting Sarek's reluctance.

"There were two incidents where sabotage would not be outside the realm of logical possibility."

"McCoy called me about one," Kirk said. "Over a year ago. He thought someone had taken a phaser to V'Rhsal's kitchen floor." He caught Spock and Chekov's sudden looks but ignored them. "I never heard about a second problem."

Sarek hesitated before replying. "Kór V'Rhsal's flyer and the second plant model disappeared one evening. Whoever...stole the flyer was able to circumvent an extensive security system. The precautions he and Dr. McCoy have had to take since that incident have been exceptionally elaborate. They destroyed the blueprint and computer tracings for the plant model. They removed their work from the memory in V'Rhsal's laboratory computer and stored it on tapes which were kept, unlabelled, in separate locations but those tapes are incomplete. The only complete parts of their research left are the design for the neural generator and the chemical composition of the vaccine that prevents Khlabar. The ability to recreate their work with the tracings exists now only in their minds. No written or computer record is left. It is a...great loss. They had mapped the nerve impulses in the cerebellum. To follow this impulse alone..." Sarek touched a forefinger to the tip of his nose. "took them two hundred and eighty hours. They tracked many impulse paths. The potential knowledge, the understanding of this organ of which medicine knows so little...to destroy all that work..." Sarek stopped, obviously intellectually horrified at the thought.

There was silence at that table. Then, softly, Spock said, "Dr. McCoy found a vaccine which prevents Khlabar."

"He and Kór V'Rhsal were honoured by the Science Academy this past month," Sarek said. "Many are receiving the vaccine."

Kirk switched the visual to a view of the scoutship. "Gentlemen, if you don't mind, I'd like to know what kind of danger that ship is."

Spock consulted his own computer terminal. "If I accept a minimum length of nineteen kilometres, the potential energy stored is seven to the tenth power megatons."

"In a plant?" Kirk asked incredulously. "It sounds ludicrous."

"All plants have potentially deadly properties," Sarek said.

Chekov whitened. "Seven to the tenth power megatons," he repeated. "And we all just tramped through it."

"You encountered Snarks," Sarek said. "There may not be any Boojums left."

"Or there may be a lot of them," Kirk said. "There's no way of knowing." He was quiet for a long moment. "Sarek, how much do you know about this plant?"

"Very little. Dr. McCoy and Kór V'Rhsal were disinclined to release papers."

"Captain, we cannot allow that ship to drift. In less than a week on her current course she'll be in the Janneau system," Chekov said.

"Under treaty terms, you must not destroy the Klingon ship without clear evidence that it is dangerous," Spock commented.

"I can't see myself standing in front of a Starfleet board, holding a fern as my defense. On the other hand, your power readings are quite clear," Kirk said.

"We could nudge the ship with a tractor beam and send it towards Klingon territory," Chekov suggested.

"Is there any way to beam that thing off the scoutship and disperse it in space?" Kirk asked.

Chekov shook his head. "It is in all the corridors and ducts. However, being plant tissue, it must need oxygen to survive. The scoutship has an atmospheric leak."

Spock interrupted, "The secondary hull is braced. The lower decks will not lose their life support."

"Could we open the primary hull breach into the secondary hull from here?" Kirk asked.

"It would require a photon torpedo, forbidden under the Organian Peace treaty," Spock said.

"What about damaging the life support?"

"Only possible from on board the scoutship itself, Captain," Spock answered.

"You tell me how to do it, and I'll beam over," Kirk said.

"Jim..." Spock started.

"Chekov walked all over it," Kirk started.

"That must mean it likes me. I'll go again," the young man cut in but was silenced by Kirk's severe look.

"No, Chekov."

"Captain, I know where the life support is. I walked right by it," Chekov said. "I can be in and out of there in two minutes."

The captain quieted. Chekov waited, knowing how much Kirk abhorred sending his people into danger, how difficult it would be for him to agree to this.

Finally, slowly, Kirk said, "You leave your communicator open. Be done in one minute because you will be beamed back."

"Yes, sir." Chekov gathered his portable life support system and left the briefing room.

Spock shut off the terminal and turned to his father. "There have been many attempts to find a vaccine against Khlabar."

Sarek nodded. "Dr. McCoy postulated that Khlabar disease was a secondary infection. Dr. McCoy used lung tissue, not blood cells to make the vaccine."

"How does the neural generator fit into this?" Kirk asked.

"The vaccine does not help those already infected. Kór V'Rhsal designed a generator that could be surgically implanted at the base of the cerebellum."

"And the surgery helps?"

Sarek nodded at Kirk. "Those who could not walk, now walk. They are able to leave the hospital within a few weeks and return to their homes and their work. They are still affected by Khlabar, but the generator reduces their symptoms to a manageable level. It is a high achievement."

Kirk frowned. "If Bones has found a vaccine, if this generator works so well, I wonder why he's still on Vulcan. He just extended his leave again."

"I have not been on Vulcan in some time," Sarek said. "In my last communication, it was noted that Dr. McCoy and Kór V'Rhsal were still engaged in some research though it is confined to the laboratory in Kór V'Rhsal's home."

Kirk eyed Sarek suspiciously. "Ambassador, you have met V'Rhsal, haven't you?"

"We have spoken."

"I mean no offense," Kirk said, "but they call him the Glaciator and it sure fits. I can't imagine McCoy voluntarily choosing to extend his leave so long."

"I spent an evening in their company before I left Vulcan," Sarek said. "They appear highly compatible."

Kirk's face wore such a look that both Sarek and Spock raised simultaneous eyebrows.

"Gentlemen, you'll never convince me," Kirk said, as they left the briefing room.

In the turbo lift, Kirk asked, "Sarek, could part of this plant have been left at the Romulan embassy?

"It is possible. There was much shrubbery there, apparently for decorative purposes. However, I can pose alternative theories to account for the explosion."

Kirk led the way onto the bridge and opened the intercom. "Transporter room, advise me when Commander Chekov is ready to beam over."

While Chekov was on the Klingon ship, Kirk quickly reviewed the situation for the bridge crew. He saw Sulu, in particular, react worriedly.

"Seven to the tenth power megatons?" the helmsman echoed. "From a plant?"

"If Chekov is successful in sabotaging the life support, we'll give that ship a nudge with a tractor beam and send it towards Klingon space."

"Plotting that now, Captain," Sulu said.

The intercom whistled. "Mr. Chekov is back aboard, Captain."

"Good." Kirk turned towards the science station. "Spock, I want---"

A sudden booming vibrated throughout the bridge. Uhura was thrown to the floor past Sarek who hit the side of the command chair.

Kirk wheeled back around. "Status!" he barked.

Sulu checked his readouts. "The scoutship is gone."

"Force one point seven megatons," Spock added. "Debris readings only."

Chekov bounded onto the bridge, eyes wide as he took in the sight on the viewscreen.

"I'm glad you made it back on board, navigator." Kirk exchanged a grim look with Sarek. "Well, I guess that takes care of our little problem."

"No damage reported, Captain," Uhura said.

"How about you?"

She smiled. "Ok."

Kirk unhooked the arms on his command chair and strode to the helm. "Chekov, plot a course to Vulcan. Sulu, give me an E.T.A."

Sulu did a quick calculation. "Nine days at warp six."

"Confirmed," Chekov said.

"Lay in and engage." Kirk walked to communications. "Uhura, please send a message to McCoy on Vulcan. You can reach him through the Shi'Kaver Teaching Hospital in the capital city. Advise him his leave has been cancelled and we'll be there to pick him up stardate 6974.2."

"Right away, sir."

Kirk walked the circular path onto the science station, where Spock and his father were studying scanner readouts. "Since McCoy created that plant, I'm going to need him. With all respect to Vulcan, he's more useful here."

"Understood," Sarek said.

"Spock, you have the con. I'll be in my quarters." Kirk strode into the turbo lift.

---

Kirk glanced around them as he and Spock walked down the long, gray corridor. "So this is the hospital that Bones has been working at. What a depressing place to beam down to."

"At least you did not get sand in your eyes this time," Spock said.

"I'd prefer the sand. Don't you people like colour, decoration, something to look at?"

"There are wall murals in the children's ward, for therapeutic reasons," Spock said. He opened a glass-plate door. "This way, Jim."

They passed several elderly Vulcans sitting on gray chairs in the hallway. They nodded at Kirk as he passed. A frail, little lady said, "Afternoon, Human."

She spoke in Standard, though her accent was thick. Kirk, startled, braked.

"Good afternoon to you, madam."

He looked over at Spock but he seemed as surprised as Kirk.

"Tell me, do you know a Dr. McCoy?" Kirk asked her.

She nodded. "Healer Makkoy. Yes, I know him. He performed my surgery."

As they continued down the hall, Spock said, "Fascinating."

"What do you mean?"

Spock flicked a slight glance at the lady behind them. "I suppose...out of respect...she has taken time to learn some standard."

"Respect...or gratitude?"

Spock frowned slightly. "Gratitude is an emotion."

Kirk smiled slightly. "Sorry. I forgot."

They stopped by the nurse's station. To the vulcan behind the counter, Kirk said, "I am looking for a healer, McCoy. I was told he was here."

In halting standard, the nurse said, "Healer Makkoy is expected back. His partner, Kór V'Rhsal, is there." He indicated a room behind Kirk.

"Thank you."

As they neared the door, Kirk said, "Tell me, Spock, what does Kór mean?"

"It is a masculine form of address. The feminine is En'."

"Should I use it?"

Spock regarded Kirk impassively. "Only if you can pronounce it correctly, which you have twice failed to do."

Kirk scowled as he pushed open the door.

They entered a patient lounge, empty except for a elderly man and V'Rhsal who were in two far chairs. V'Rhsal looked up at their arrival, nodded, then resumed his conversation with the elderly man. Spock stood a polite distance away, silent. Kirk followed suit. It was a long wait as Kirk's grasp of Vulcan was sketchy and the two vulcans apparently felt no compulsion to wrap up their conversation. After what seemed like a very long time, V'Rhsal finally looked over at them and said, in Standard, "Captain Kirk, Captain Spock. Leonard is now coming down the hall."

Kirk opened his mouth to ask him how he knew but V'Rhsal had already resumed his discussion with the elderly man. The door behind the Captain opened and McCoy walked in. The doctor broke into a wide grin.

"Jim, Spock, what you been doing the last two years?"

"Over two years," Kirk said. "Didn't they teach you how to count here?"

McCoy grinned again. "Sorry, Jim. Two years, two months, five point nine eight seven six five four three two one and a half days. How have you been?"

"Oh fine. We've just been booting around the galaxy, having a ball, you know us," Kirk managed casually, though he was rather struck by the doctor's appearance. McCoy was heavily bearded and the beard was mostly gray. There were a few more lines around the deep blue eyes; the forehead had another furrow. Yet he seemed happier than the man Kirk had known before.

"You look well, doctor," Spock said after close scrutiny.

"Oddly enough after all this heat, eh?" McCoy glanced at Kirk. In mock annoyance, he added, "I assume you have a good reason for cancelling my leave so abruptly. If you just give me a few minutes, you can tell me. Have a seat."

McCoy walked over to the elderly man and V'Rhsal. Then, in effortless Vulcan, started talking softly with them.

As they sat at the far end of the room, Kirk whispered, "Who was that?"

"It has been over two years, Jim."

Kirk saw McCoy pull out a scanner. The elderly man leant forward and McCoy gently felt the back of the vulcan's neck.

"Interesting," Spock said.

"What is?"

"My father mentioned that Dr. McCoy implanted the generator behind the cerebellum, in the neck."

Finally McCoy and V'Rhsal came over to them. To Kirk's surprise, the delicate-looking male stood and walked easily and quickly out the door.

McCoy sat down, his expression growing serious. "Ok, Jim. What's going on?"

"Are you missing a plant, Bones?"

McCoy frowned, puzzled. He and V'Rhsal exchanged a look and, a moment later, his expression cleared. "That plant."

"We found it."

"What do you mean, found it?" McCoy asked, looking alarmed. "It's not on board the ship, is it?"

"No, only the Klingons were dumb enough to do that," Kirk said. "It's a great weapon, Bones. Blends right into the decor. We think it may be responsible for taking out the Romulan embassy on Allát."

McCoy shook his head. "We discovered its explosive qualities in quite a lovely fashion ourselves." He turned to V'Rhsal. "I'm sure glad I'm not going to be around when your wife sees the state of the house."

V'Rhsal's expression did not change, as far as Kirk could see. McCoy, however, seemed to receive some acknowledgment from the Vulcan before he glanced back to Kirk.

"Do the Klingons still have it?"

"A lot of it has blown up," Kirk said. "Sarek's worried that the Klingons may still have enough to grow more."

"It does seem to grow all on its own," McCoy commented. "Is this why you've called me back?"

"That and the fact that we still can't get your brandy cupboard open." Kirk eyed the doctor. "Bones, I am sorry but I have to pull you out of here."

"It's all right. I was hoping to isolate the Khlabar virus but a physician I met, Soltar, has my notes and he's going to continue."

V'Rhsal finally spoke. "Is it known how the Klingons acquired the plant?"

Kirk shook his head. "That's classified information. Sorry."

McCoy stood. "V'Rhsal, I've still got a few things at the house. Can I leave them there for a bit?"

"Certainly, Leonard."

McCoy scratched at his beard, then smiled. "I guess this is still non-regulation."

"I'll get out the hedge-clippers." Kirk rose as well. "Bones, we can beam up outside."

McCoy glanced once more at V'Rhsal, then turned to Kirk. "Jim, I have to leave a couple of messages with my partner here. Could I meet you in the parking lot in, say, ten minutes?"

When he and Spock were down the hall, Kirk said, "I thought I'd find Bones in a more aggravated state. I thought Vulcans drove him crazy."

"Where did you ever form that impression?" Spock asked blandly.

"I really don't know." Kirk blinked in the sunlight as they walked outside. "Spock, did anything strike you as odd with McCoy and V'Rhsal?"

"No, Jim. Why do you ask?" Spock prompted.

Kirk shrugged. "It was nothing definite. Never mind."

PART EIGHTEEN

McCoy met V'Rhsal's deep, black eyes.

it's now or never, i guess.

V'Rhsal's expression softened.

i sense an emotion. regret?

McCoy snorted.

hardly. i'm glad to get off this oven of a planet.

leonard, i have a feeling.

you what? i need to sit down.

leonard, you once asked me what i wanted. i was unable to answer you as i did not understand the concept.

and now?

such as it is hard to admit to you, it is harder to admit it to myself. i feel that we should not end the meld at this time. my logic is unable to make a determination of the reason.

v'rhsal, i feel like i'm standing at the edge of something, looking down somewhere that i never wanted to look before. i know this doesn't make sense.

McCoy glanced down, away from the black eyes.

i have spent a lot of my life alone, v'rhsal. i admit i really resisted the meld, especially when i found out it was more than a meld. but i've become accustomed to you. if we end the meld, then i go back to being alone but this time i will know just how alone that is. this is such a selfish attitude that i can't believe i'm telling you.

we could remain as we are for a little while longer. i have become...accustomed to you as well.

V'Rhsal held up a hand with two fingers extended. After a moment, McCoy managed an awkward approximation of the gesture. The Vulcan touched his hand to the doctor's.

i will seek thee.

A noise came from the hall. McCoy pulled away and stood. "I had better get going."

When he got to the door, V'Rhsal said, "Keep in touch, Leonard."

"How can i avoid it?" McCoy grumbled as he shut the door behind him.

---

Spock could hear McCoy's voice from sickbay as soon as the turbo lift opened. Entering sickbay, he saw evidence of the doctor immediately. Two stacks of tapes balanced precariously in McCoy's in-tray on his desk.

"There you are," McCoy entered the room, adjusting a hypo. "I was wondering if you'd care to have the vaccine against Khlabar. I got your father just before he beamed down to the Vulcan embassy."

"And is he still alive?"

McCoy smirked. "I don't know. I guess you'll just have to take the risk, Vulcan."

Spock rolled up a sleeve. McCoy shook his head.

"Sorry. Lower the pants. It's intramuscular."

"Intramuscular? How archaic."

"I am just an old-fashioned country doctor. Come on, bend over."

Spock hesitated, then, slowly, unfastened his pants and bent over a table. The hypo sounded concurrently with the sound of a door opening. Spock, maintaining a carefully neutral expression, raised his pants and turned around. Christene Chapel stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and head inclined slightly as she regarded the scene before her.

"You may get a slight fever over the next day," McCoy said, as he emptied the hypo vial into the medical disposal chute. "Take a couple of aspirin for it."

"I suppose we all have our personal preferences, Mr. Spock," Chapel said amusedly, "but the other Vulcans on board received their injections in the arm."

McCoy beat a retreat into the lab as Spock wheeled around. Christene caught a glimpse of something in the Vulcan eyes, but it was gone before she could get a fix on it.

"I don't think I want to get in the middle of this one," she said, smiling, as she took off into the other room. Spock waited until the door has closed before taking a seat at McCoy's desk. Silently, he contemplated the stack of tapes in the tray.

---

McCoy, on his own initiative, avoided Spock for the rest of the day. He took a walk through the ship, starting with the lower decks. He noticed the ship's noises now, having been so long away from them. She vibrated with just the softest shiver before changing warp speed. She sighed when coming out of warp. The engines purred in the lowest deck, hummed in the highest. There was a difference in the smell of the air as it recycled in cool wafts from the vents.

He reported to the briefing room at the end of day watch, where Kirk, Spock, Sulu and someone he didn't recognize waited. The unknown was a dark-haired woman, stocky and tall and wearing the medical blue. She shook his hand warmly before taking a seat by the computer terminal.

McCoy took a seat, eyeing her cautiously. "Have we met?"

"Briefly, just before you took leave, sir," she said. "I'm Dr. Tyne Misu. I heard about your success on Vulcan and of your receiving the Vulcan Science Accolade. Congratulations."

"Thanks," he said quickly, then changed the subject. "Are you one of the counsellors, Doctor?"

"I'm a chemist. I've been working back and forth between your department and Captain Spock's." She smiled. "My latest project has been your plant."

"It's hardly my plant," McCoy corrected her in a quiet tone. "It's just a bit of organic plant tissue."

"A bit of organic plant tissue over nineteen kilometres long," Tyne said. "Hardly your average ground cover."

"See what you can do with a little water and few seeds?" McCoy turned to Kirk. "Is this what the briefing is about? The plant?"

Kirk nodded. "We're on our way back to the Neutral Zone. The Romulans are stirred up over the thought that the Klingons have some kind of new weapon being supplied to them by a Vulcan. They're edgy. The Klingons are gloating. And the only hint of any weaponry I've found so far is this lovely little flower from your garden. I need to know more about what it is before I can determine if it's actually the weapon the Klingons are using."

McCoy uncharacteristically silenced.

"Bones..." Kirk prodded.

McCoy finally looked up. "Jim, you told me that it blew up a Klingon scoutship. How do you know that?"

"We recorded the event on our scanners," Spock said.

"But, how do you know that it caused the explosion?" McCoy persisted.

Kirk frowned. "Bones, Chekov led an Away Team. He was on the scoutship. He waded right through it."

"I spoke to Pavel this morning," McCoy started.

"We didn't lose any men," Kirk said.

"Then how do you know it was the plant? Many things can potentially explode on a ship," McCoy said.

"That was my opinion in my report," Tyne said softly. "Captain, it is impossible for organic plant tissue of that rudimentary molecular structure to contain energy of such magnitude. It simply could not store it."

"I went over every bit of information in our scanner recordings, both from the ship and from Pavel's Away Team," Sulu spoke up. "I know there was no reason for that ship to explode the way it did. All of it's systems were functioning well. Damage was contained by internal safety systems. She should have just drifted until pulled into a magnetic field."

"Are you a botanist?" Tyne asked him.

"I know enough about botany to know that plant tissue cell structure could have the qualities that Ambassador Sarek described," Sulu said.

"As you see, Bones, we're a house divided," Kirk cut in, forestalling further argument. "I need information. Starfleet's waiting on my report."

"I'm afraid I won't be much help," McCoy said. "V'Rhsal and I grew an uncomplicated molecular chain. We kept it in the house"

"It would settle the question, Dr. McCoy," Spock said, "If you would reproduce the blueprint that you used as the basis for the plant model."

"I can't do that," McCoy said. "The tracings filled six computer tapes."

"Don't you have the tapes?" Sulu said.

"No," the doctor replied. "The tapes were destroyed."

"Don't you have any notes at all left of that part of your research?" Sulu asked. "Your work with the plant was obviously a major part of the investigation."

McCoy shook his head firmly. "Sorry, Sulu."

"Please don't take this the wrong way but I'm at a loss to know what good this meeting with you is accomplishing," Tyne said. "I don't believe organic plant tissue is capable of such destruction. Commander Sulu thinks it can. We were hoping you could provide some proof one way or another, Doctor."

"We could set up a scan on my cerebellum," Spock said, "and use that as a new blueprint."

"It wouldn't be possible to get an exact duplication with our organic fabricators," McCoy replied quietly. "The conditions for growth existed on Vulcan. Besides, if you think that the plant destroyed an entire scoutship, then someone somewhere changed something in it. What V'Rhsal and I had just wouldn't have done that."

Kirk sighed tiredly. "Gentlemen, we're arguing without data. I move to close this meeting."

Chairs scraped as Sulu and Tyne exited. Spock, however, remained sitting.

Kirk exchanged a look with McCoy, who was at the door, before saying, "What is it, Spock?"

"We are overlooking an obvious source of information, Jim. I regret that it did not occur to me earlier."

"Explain."

"Kór V'Rhsal, himself." Spock looked over to the doctor. "What was the strength of the containment field he designed?"

McCoy scowled. "I don't know."

"An intense field would not have been any more difficult for him to construct than a weaker one," Spock said.

"But he kept it in the house," McCoy said.

"If the containment field was sufficient, it would not matter where the plant was kept." Spock regarded McCoy for a long time. "You could ask him."

Kirk nodded. "Simple enough. Uhura could send a message through."

"It would be much faster," Spock repeated softly to McCoy, "if you could ask him."

McCoy hesitated for a fraction too long, causing Kirk to eye him curiously. Finally the doctor said, "Spock, the research is ended. The partnership is effectively over."

Kirk cut in. "McCoy, are you withholding information?"

"For Heaven's sake, Jim," the doctor retorted. "Call V'Rhsal. I'll give you the com code."

After McCoy left, Kirk eyed Spock suspiciously. "What was that all about?"

Spock managed a bland look. "Jim?"

Kirk outstared him. In a deceptively gentle voice, the Captain asked, "Is he holding something back?"

"I believe he told us everything he knew about the plant model."

Kirk mulled that comment over as they returned to the bridge. Spock, characteristically, changed the subject. "I admit I do not see how the molecular chain the doctor used could store and release energy in such a destructive fashion, however, I read the energy levels from the scan myself."

The turbo lift doors opened. Spock took his place at the science station. The Captain stopped by Uhura's board. "Lieutenant, prepare to open a call to Vulcan, please. It'll be a private com number."

"I will have to go through Vulcan Central," she said.

Kirk nodded as he plunked himself down in his chair.

POST NINETEEN

McCoy lay on his bunk, eyes closed. The room was dim and smelled of attic dust, despite the recirculation. No one had used his cabin while he was on leave and, while there was technically no dust in space, there sure was something that lay thick on everything, including the bed covers and pillow.

The smell of the dust dissipated. Suddenly his nostrils were overcome with the fierce red sand that he'd watched blow over the deserts for two years. He could no longer hear the drone of in-ship communications.

He was quiet for a long time. Then, slowly, a soft smile spread across his face.

He rose, wiping his eyes, and switched on the intercom.

"McCoy to bridge."

"Bridge. Uhura here, doctor."

"I've got a com-code for you. Jim wanted it."

"For Vulcan?" she asked.

"Yeah. It's uh...port central seven, line nine two four six nine."

He shut off the intercom and spent a few minutes looking at the familiar things around his room before getting up and going out the door.

Uhura turned from her board. "I have the call placed, Captain. It is a private residence."

"Put it on."

The viewscreen wavered, then steadied. Kirk recognized the underground lab from V'Rhsal's home. The Vulcan himself was seated at a table, his expression strikingly severe.

"Captain Kirk," he said in acknowledgment.

"Sir, I am sorry to disturb you," Kirk said, "but I've got a couple of concerns about..."

"Yes, I know," he interrupted.

"I would be grateful if you could tell me of any theories you might have," Kirk said impassively.

"I do not have enough data to formulate a theory," the Vulcan said.

"I understand that whoever stole it got past a rather extensive security system."

The Vulcan nodded.

Kirk waited but when V'Rhsal seemed disinclined to say anything more, he glanced at Spock.

Spock came down to stand beside the command chair. "Kór V'Rhsal, the Klingons hope to use the plant as a weapon."

"Curious," V'Rhsal said. "It would not be strong enough. It's unpredictability alone should deter from that kind of use."

"It could be handled if it was kept under a containment field," Spock said. "What was the strength of the containment field you designed?"

"Point five megaton coverage."

Spock frowned. "That would be insufficient for the plant we found on a Klingon ship."

"I did not have nineteen kilometres of it in my basement, Kór Spock," V'Rhsal pointed out.

Kirk frowned. "Would nineteen kilometres of it be enough to cause such damage to a space ship, roughly thirteen hundred tons, supporting warp speed and a crew of twelve?"

V'Rhsal thought for a moment. "No. A molecular structure must have been changed in it. However, I do not see that it has much potential as a weapon, at any size."

"Why not?" Kirk asked.

V'Rhsal blinked. "A plant, Captain?"

"Who'd notice one more bush in a pile of bushes?" Kirk asked. "Our scanners wouldn't be able to detect one particular leaf from another in a pile of organic matter. Furthermore, when it blows, it doesn't seem to leave much behind."

V'Rhsal was silent for a few moments before continuing. "Captain, I am sure your engineer can design any sort of a containment field you might require for defensive purposes. If there is nothing further..."

"There is something further," Kirk said. "The Romulans think that Vulcan is supplying the Klingons with a weapon. They don't know it's a stolen plant. They probably wouldn't believe such a story. In their shoes, I wouldn't give it much credit myself. But what they will believe is that we've broken our part of a very shaky peace treaty. I need all information you can give me."

The turbo lift doors opened. Kirk turned to find McCoy leaning against the rail. V'Rhsal's gaze flicked behind Kirk for a bare second.

"Captain, where is your ship headed?"

"Toward the neutral zone."

"This is of some urgency." V'Rhsal was quiet for a few moments more, then said, "The neural field generator that Leonard and I used detonates all pockets of energy in the plant tissue of a particular chemical make-up. I realize, though, that you would not wish to do so if you were too near the plant. Detonating the pockets of energy while it was still on a Klingon ship would be the alternative and would be a less destructive option as the pockets could be breached one at a time rather than all at once. If I am given a scan of a ship's deflector shield's wavelength, I could design the generator's frequency to penetrate the shield. I still find it quite irrational, however, that an intelligent race would even consider using a plant as a weapon."

"I think we all do," Kirk admitted. He heard McCoy snort behind him.

"Captain, I assume you scanned the Klingon ship before it was destroyed," V'Rhsal said.

"Yes, we got some readings," Kirk answered.

"Is the information classified?"

"I'll send you what I can."

V'Rhsal nodded, then ended the transmission.

Kirk turned to Spock. "Please prepare an information transmission for him. `Need-to-know' only."

The Vulcan returned to his station. Kirk breathed out and rubbed his forehead painfully.

"Headache?" inquired McCoy from his position against the rail.

"Not yet, but I'm expecting one anytime now." He glanced at the doctor. "Our next job - convincing the Romulans that their embassy was blown apart by a geranium."

---

McCoy found himself shaking hands with a skeleton, the yellow, boney fingers cold in his palm. The teeth grinned fiendishly as the skeleton motioned him forward.

The room was very dark. A single candle flickered their moving shadows on the walls.

He knew he was dreaming. Strangely, he knew he was in his bed, in his cabin, and still he followed this dream through with a feverish mind.

The skeleton stopped by a heavy, velvet curtain which swayed slowly. It was only then that McCoy noticed the strings on the yellow bones, marionette strings that rose up and disappeared into the black of a high ceiling. The skeleton stepped aside. McCoy understood that he was to open the curtains but he felt a heavy reluctance to do so.

He shook his head. Hard bones gripped his elbow, pulling him forward.

"No," he said softly.

Again the tub on his elbow. He pulled at the marionette string, trying to release the grip. When that didn't work, he turned his back to the curtain.

"I'm not looking," he said. "There are some things I don't want to see."

A piano started up. Someone was playing an old-style rag tune and off-key voices joined in with a chorus of a bawdy pub song.

Beyond the candle's uneasy light, he could see glimpses of half-dressed skeleton women in the embrace of drunken skeleton men. The men looked eerily depraved, bony fingers clutching the women's ribs, sneaking under the bodices and cracked corsets. Dusty wigs sat on the skulls of the women and big, black mustaches were fixed in the nose sockets of the men.

"Remember this one, doctor?" asked one of the women and they all started another dirty song.

One of the men put a glass in his hand, filled with a liquid that looked like blue ink.

"This is weird," McCoy muttered. He set the glass on the piano. The drink bubbled at him, then hopped away into the gloom.

A large wolf was playing the piano, its huge jaws drooling spittle onto the keyboard. A caterpillar was jumping from key to key, trying to wipe up the spit.

"It's not good for the ivory, you know," the caterpillar told McCoy.

"When I play rag, you need a rag," the wolf said.

McCoy rubbed his eyes, then turned to the skeleton nearest him. "Did I drink anything before I went to bed tonight? Do you remember?"

"A little brandy," the skeleton answered, its bones clicking as it shrugged.

"Must have been a bad batch," McCoy said.

A woman skeleton leaned near him, her wig nearly sliding off her skull. "Did you know that there is a nurse shark under the table?"

"Couldn't hold her liquor," the wolf slobbered.

McCoy glanced around the room. "Please don't think I'm rude but just who the hell are all you people?"

A man grinned. "Don't ya know, doc? We're all the ones that died on your table."

"Now let's not get overly-dramatic," the wolf said.

"All the ones who died?" McCoy repeated.

A woman skeleton caressed his arm. "Oh, you know. If only you'd been a little quicker...if only you'd studied that textbook a little more...if only you hadn't waited so long to operate...."

"Give the man a break," said the caterpillar. "He's only human."

The wolf sniffed. "I smell a little Vulcan in there too."

"That's right. I forgot," the caterpillar said. "You went and got hitched."

"No, I---" McCoy started but then he noticed a rope between his ankle and a leg of the piano.

"You are hitched," the woman said.

"I am not," McCoy untied the rope.

"You slept with him. It's been consummated," the caterpillar said.

"We sometimes slept beside each other," McCoy tossed the rope away, "so that I wouldn't dream stupid dreams...like this one."

"I resent that," said the wolf.

The caterpillar jumped on top of the piano. "You slept with him too!"

"Oh shut up," McCoy said wearily, untying another rope from his foot. "As far as I'm concerned, you're all just a swig of bad booze."

"It felt good, didn't it?" the caterpillar persisted.

"You're awfully dirty-minded," said the wolf.

"I agree," McCoy grumbled, working at a third rope.

"Of course you could say that you don't really know how it felt because it was over so fast," the caterpillar mused. "Didn't your wife used to complain about the very same thing?"

The wolf laid a heavy paw on him. "Listen you little two-inch string, you're talking about my old friend Lenny here."

"Enough's enough," McCoy said as a fourth rope appeared. "I want to wake up now."

"I was just going to play another tune," the wolf said as the room started to fade. He called out, "We'll be seeing you again, Lenny. When you wake up, you'll have a little something to remember us by!"

"You mean a big something!" the caterpillar giggled.

McCoy opened his eyes to the sight of his gray cabin ceiling and the feeling that he could use a very cold shower.

He sat up slowly, feeling the sweat down his back.

"Good Lord....I hope I'm not sharing this with you, V'Rhsal," he muttered.

He undressed and ran the cold sonic. The chronometer read early morning, still hours away from his shift. He debated starting early, then put on a set of coveralls and headed for the recreation deck.

There was an enclosed court behind the open area of the gymnasium. McCoy got a racquet and a ball and set up a slow volley against the wall. The ball smacked loudly in the early-morning stillness. McCoy threw more weight into his swing and the ball turned into a blue blur that zoomed past him. Retrieving it, he started with a series of fast, hard drives, holding nothing back until his palm grew sweaty on the racquet's grip and the ball was a stinging rush of air.

Finally he missed. He bent over, catching his breath, while the ball lost momentum and rolled to a stop by his feet.

"You're not half-bad," came a voice, startling him.

Tyne Misu stood in the doorway, wearing shorts, her long hair tied up.

"You're an early riser," he panted.

"Can I join in? I brought my own racquet."

He shrugged. "As long as you remember that you're playing against an old man."

She made a face. "After spending two years in Vulcan's higher gravity, you should be quite agile here."

Nevertheless, she did send the ball his way gently. After a few casual volleys, she said, "I hope you weren't offended by my last comment in the briefing."

McCoy returned the ball a little harder, speeding up the game. "What comment?"

"When I said the briefing was getting us nowhere."

"I warned you I wouldn't be much help," he said, amused.

Her hair swung as she backhanded the ball. "I've gotten in trouble with my mouth in the past."

"Really?" he asked blandly.

She grinned. "Once or twice. I have this problem of saying what's on my mind without thinking about the consequences."

"If you can't insult people, just what the hell kind of fun can you have anyway?"

"I have to admit, though, I truly do admire your mind."

"Such a naive young woman," McCoy said. "You ought to get out into the universe more."

"I think you deliberately act like you're not very smart."

"It's hardly deliberate." He made her work a little harder to return the ball, hoping it would quiet her.

"I've read many of your papers. I pushed for the Enterprise but," she paused to smack the ball, "you weren't here."

McCoy forced her to the far wall in order to return the volley.

"I'm interested in this plant of yours."

He drove the ball harder. "It's not my plant."

"It's half yours." She ran for the ball. "It's incredible the way it stores energy."

""I thought you didn't believe it could do that." McCoy forced her to the far wall.

"The atomic connections you designed must be fantastic."

"And now flattery," he mused and hit the ball hard.

She scowled briefly. "Curiosity. Do you know how many scientists have tried to replicate parts of the brain? You not only managed to do so, but did it with such a simple molecular soup. You just grew it. You just sat back and let it grow! A truly organic, working model."

"Sometimes I had to get up to water it."

"But think of the possibilities for knowledge! The doors it opened up!"

"The scoutships it blew."

"We don't know that." She was starting to pant now.

The meld with V'Rhsal had heightened his senses. He could hear the ball coming, see its trajectory. The time he'd spent in Vulcan's gravity did make this atmosphere a little easier. He considered briefly, then gave in and sent her running back and forth over the court, enjoying her deepening frown as she was forced more and more into a defensive posture.

She started hitting the ball with all her weight. He backhanded the next few effortlessly, sending her once behind him, then across the length of the court for the next. The thunk-smack of the ball on the racquets and the wall grew louder, drowning out her half-gasped words.

Finally he just drove it past her. She felt rather than saw the whizzing by her head. She turned and took the rebound in a leg before the ball rolled innocently into a corner.

"Old man nothing!" she managed.

McCoy walked over. "Sit down. Let's see."

There was no playful banter now. It was the voice of the physician. She sat down and extended her leg. She winced as he gently touched her thigh.

"Hurt?" he asked.

She nodded. "It's going to be a lovely bruise."

"But nothing's broken." He sat back on his heels. "Sorry about that."

"Take it easy, I'm old! My foot!" she said, smiling.

"The Vulcans have a similar version of this. They call it Ito-fër. Uses two balls at the same time. V'Rhsal and I used to play a few rounds every once in a while."

"You're part-hustler," she said as he helped her up.

"I think I missed my calling."

He picked up the ball and sent it back lazily against the wall. She watched him for a few moments, then said, "Have you thought of a way that the plant could be grown in this environment?"

"No."

"But if you used an earth-type molecular chain---" she started but he interrupted.

"If it can blow out a scoutship, I hardly think it's something the Captain would want on board."

"We could keep it contained."

"We?"

"I could help you."

"It not so simple as getting some soil and a few seeds. It took two weeks to get the blueprint alone. Then you have to design an atomic arrangement suited to that blueprint."

"We could do it," she persisted softly.

McCoy had a sudden memory of waking up to find the plant in bed with him. "No, we couldn't."

"You had a working model of the cerebellum. Do you realize how amazing that is?"

McCoy let the ball go past him. "And I thought you were just here to admire my racquetball playing."

"And your mind. Don't forget."

He retrieved the ball and left the court. She followed slowly.

"Doctor, I do wish to learn from you. That's why I wanted to be on this ship. Some of your work's almost required reading at the academy."

"Almost?" he asked, trying not to smile.

"It's noted in a bibliography in a textbook."

He returned the equipment to the stored. "All right. I'll discuss amino acids with you to your heart's content."

"Tonight then," she said. "I'll bring a little supper tray to your cabin and we---"

"How about in my office?"

She shook her head. "I notice you get interrupted a lot in your sickbay. When they know you're there, they come looking for you."

McCoy studied her but her face looked entirely innocent. "How about your cabin then?"

"My roommate is afraid of men." Tyne deposited her racquet in the stores as well. "At shift's end then?"

"Fine."

"See you then." She walked away, still looking innocent.

PART TWENTY

Tyne showed up promptly at sixteen hundred, bearing a tray with two huge salads and a decanter.

"I checked your diet card. Are you a vegetarian?" she asked.

"Only temporarily," he said, sitting at his desk.

She pulled up a chair across from him. "Is this all right?"

"It's fine. Thank you."

She poured him a glass from the decanter, a dark, red-coloured liquid.

He sniffed tentatively. "What's this?"

"Bordeaux. It's from my family table."

"Is it real?"

"As close as possible. We are millions of miles from France."

He took a cautious sip, then said, "It is good. How's your leg?"

"Sore as hell."

"Ask Christene for a couple of aspirin."

She frowned. "With all your education, is that the best you can do?"

He poured some dressing on his lettuce. "Get someone to rub it."

She laughed. "Is that an offer?"

McCoy glanced up, his face unreadable. "Don't you have a boyfriend? He'd do it for free whereas I'd bill."

She popped a piece of carrot in her mouth. "It's impossible to enjoy a boyfriend with a roommate like mine."

"And she NEVER leaves the cabin?" McCoy asked. "Just who is your roommate anyway?"

"Miss Frigid Virgin of the North and I have that typical french nature."

"It must be difficult for the two of you to find some common ground."

She leant forward, her eyes intent on his. "What kind of nature do you have?"

"Unless we're back at the old shack by the potato patch, with a ring on your finger and two goats as dowry, it's no go."

Tyne shrugged. "And I was hoping to seduce you."

At his snort, she added, "How do you think I got through the Academy anyway?"

"By drinking milk and studying hard?"

She broke up at his serious expression. "Well, that too. But I really am here to ask you about amino acids."

"Finally," he said.

"During my last year, I read a paper you published on the twelve non-essential amino acids and how they are the same twelve in every humanoid species despite vast differences in ecological conditions." She refilled his glass, then dug into her salad. "That paper excited me. I knew about the different types of humanoids in the Federation but I'd only studied the differences, not the similarities. The Academy library is huge but it had very little on this."

"Xeno-chemistry is rather new as a separate study," McCoy said. "However, I'm more generally trained. I'm not a chemist. There's nothing I could tell you that you couldn't find in the ship's resources."

"I've studied those tapes. I've got all the findings, all the reports, but I don't have the theories, the half-made, intuitive conclusions that a scientist would hesitate to put on record." She swallowed a mouthful of salad. "There's got to be a lot you never wrote down."

McCoy shook his head. "Flattery again, young woman. I don't fall for that."

"Are we at least agreed that wondering is the first step towards knowledge?"

He nodded.

"And I do have some questions. I wrote them down." She pulled a tape out of her pocket. "I'd love a chance to pick your brain. I've already pulled poor Spock's all to pieces."

"Now THAT I would have loved to have seen," he said.

Tyne tapped the decanter. "And if getting you drunk is the only way I can get anything out of you, then, I'm not above it."

"And I'm certainly not above getting drunk," he said and held out his glass. "Fill her up."

Half a decanter later, McCoy was beginning to think that getting drunk wasn't such a good idea. While their conversation seemed professional enough, she prefaced her questions by giggles. By the end of the decanter, he was freely rubbing the bruise on her thigh and they'd somehow wandered away from amino acids to the subject of the making of good homemade wine.

Tyne was drunker than he was. He set her glass away from her and asked, "If this is from your family table, why can't you handle it better?"

"Maybe I should have eaten more," she said, glancing at her half-full plate. She pulled her chair closer and laid her other leg across his lap. "How about the one that's not hurting, doctor?"

He shrugged and started rubbing. After a few minutes, she said, "Let's be blunt here, Leonard. I wouldn't mind at all if you worked your way up a bit."

"Hold it now. I have yet to see that goat dowry."

"Why don't we go to bed? I admire your mind."

"You can't admire someone's mind in bed."

"Yes you can. It's the positioning."

"Tyne, do you know how old I am?"

"You talk like you're a hundred and fifty." She sat forward until her breasts were pressed against his arm. "Tell me what you like about me."

"Besides your modesty?" he rebutted. The truth was he felt nothing, not a thing, not a hint.

She pulled him closer and kissed him. Her mouth tasted sweet, like wine and tomatoes, and still he felt absolutely no desire.

"Tyne," he moved her legs off his lap. "Forgive me."

She looked into his eyes and blinked. "Leonard, are you cheating on someone?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation, his answer a surprise to him as well.

She shrugged. "Can we get together tomorrow night, purely for scientific reasons?"

"Certainly but keep to your own side of the table."

She smiled, then stood, looking a bit wobbly.

"Can you get to your cabin?" he asked.

"Can I what? The idea!" Tyne frowned. "Leonard, I've been drinking that stuff since I was three."

And so saying, she promptly passed out on his floor.

---

Kirk entered sickbay. Christene Chapel glanced up from her desk and smiled. "He's in his office."

Kirk found himself smiling back at her easy warmth. "How do you know who I want?"

"Easy. Except for your physicals and the evening you tried to break into the brandy cabinet, we haven't seen you in here for two years," she said before returning to her work.

Kirk paused outside McCoy's office, hearing a higher-pitched voice coming from inside. He hesitated, then decided that if Bones had a patient, Christene surely would have said so.

He buzzed and the door opened. McCoy was sitting at his desk, surrounded by tapes and across from him, Dr. Tyne Misu was perched on a high stool, holding a lap-top portable from the lab.

"Am I interrupting?" Kirk asked.

"Please do," McCoy said. "This woman has me trying to remember my high-school chemistry and it isn't easy."

Tyne set the lap-top on McCoy's desk. "Leonard and I are setting up a little project involving amino acids."

"Amino acids," Kirk repeated slowly. "They don't have anything to do with say...plants?"

McCoy snickered as he poured a coffee for the Captain.

Tyne looked between McCoy and the Captain, then rose. "Len, I think I'll check on our crystals in the lab."

After she left, McCoy said. "How's your headache?"

"We'll know day after tomorrow." The Captain yawned and McCoy shook his head.

"You'd better get some decent sleep before then. You haven't been skipping meals, have you?"

"Doctor," Kirk said warningly.

"How's it been around here for the last two years anyway? I feel out of touch."

"If it hadn't been for your plant, it would have been one long, lovely patrol."

"Come on, Jim. You hate being bored."

"We escorted diplomats back and forth over the same two inches of space. I suppose all you did was work and learn to speak Vulcan."

"And damn near sprained my tongue doing so." McCoy took a drink of his coffee. "And, yes, we mainly worked."

Kirk paused. He still couldn't put a finger on the difference in the doctor. "I was surprised when you kept extending your leave. I didn't think Vulcan was your favourite place."

"It was hard at first," the doctor admitted. "Most of the Vulcans I met had never seen a human before. They tended to refrain from even looking at me."

"And V'Rhsal seems like a particularly cold character."

"Is he?" McCoy looked up. "I hadn't noticed." He cleared a few tapes off his desk so that Kirk could set his cup down. "Actually the heat bothered me more than anything. And those stupid Vulcans have never heard of an air conditioner." He refilled his own cup. "Mostly we were too busy to do much socializing."

"Do Vulcans socialize?" Kirk queried.

"Family things," McCoy said. "V'Rhsal and I went camping for a couple of days. We went to a reserve, La'Val. There's a beautiful lake and a gorgeous, white beach. Vulcans don't fish but V'Rhsal didn't seem to care much if I did. We went for a swim. I found this reef about half a mile out that---" McCoy stopped at the expression on Kirk's face. "What is it?"

Kirk blinked. "Let me get this straight. On Vulcan you went swimming and fishing?"

"I had a good time," McCoy said. "But I found you have to be careful in Vulcan's hot sun. V'Rhsal warned me about it but I still got this awful sunburn in a place that hadn't seen sun since I was seven or so. He was rather unsympathetic though he did go to a pharmacy for me."

The intercom whistled. McCoy opened the switch. "Yes..."

"Doctor, is the Captain with you?" came Spock's voice.

Kirk leaned forward. "What is it, Spock?"

"We received a transmission from Kór V'Rhsal twenty two seconds ago. He has dispatched his updated generator design."

"Good. Send it down to Scotty. I'll be up in a little while."

Kirk shut off the intercom. "I feel rather silly," he admitted.

"Why?"

"All this because of a weed."

"I don't think `silly' is a word I'd use," the doctor mused. "To be honest, it gave me the creeps."

"I suppose if you know how explosive it is..."

McCoy shook his head. "It wasn't that. It's hard to describe." He hesitated. "It was never still. It rustled and creaked and slithered."

Kirk chuckled. "Come on, Bones."

The doctor was serious. "It didn't have any roots. It used to move. It crawled over doorjambs and up stairs and once I even found it..." He trailed off. "It was a working part of a brain. It reacted to stimulus in odd ways and it talked to itself. When we finished our experiments, V'Rhsal wanted to destroy it. If he had, you wouldn't be having this problem with the Romulans."

"If it wasn't this, it would have been something else," Kirk said. "The border's been edgy for a while." He studied the doctor. "Have you any thoughts on how it was stolen?"

McCoy shrugged. "No."

"And it has nothing to do with when you asked me to check on V'Rhsal's wife?" Kirk prompted.

"I don't know what to think about her." The doctor rose abruptly and deposited his cup in the cycler. Changing the subject, he said, "I'm a little confused as to why we still have all these counsellors on board. I thought they were a temporary thing while the ship was doing training runs."

"So did I," Kirk admitted. "Once a month I suffer through a medical briefing with them. It's like listening to a room full of amateur Freuds discussing space-willies. They never agree with each other. They have twenty-five theories to account for every reaction they've observed in crew members. They all talk at once and by the end of the briefing they're usually screaming at each other."

"I have no sympathy for you, Captain. It was you who sat here and told me, and I quote, `It's not a bad idea, Bones. I can think of a few problems that could have been avoided over the years with this policy.'"

"Did I say that?" Kirk asked innocently.

McCoy scowled. "It's taken me four days to figure out my new job description, a job description I see, by the way, that you personally approved."

"Me?"

"Who's JTK is that at the bottom of the approval form?"

Kirk smiled. "Ok. I'm sorry I did it while you weren't here. But couldn't you at least get them to stop yelling at each other?"

"Yelling is normal for psychiatrists. Do you think I asked my patients in Shi'Kaver to stop speaking Vulcan?" McCoy asked.

A puzzled expression crossed Kirk's face. "Come to think of it, the Vulcans I met at the hospital were speaking Standard."

The intercom whistled again. McCoy tapped the button. "Sickbay."

"Leonard, I'm looking for the Captain," came Scotty's voice.

"What is it, Scotty?" Kirk asked.

"Captain, I've been looking at this packet the Vulcan laddie sent to me."

"Meet you up on the bridge, Scotty," Kirk said. "Five minutes." He ended the communication. "Come on, Bones. We'll need you too."

PART TWENTY ONE

A recording of V'Rhsal's transmission was running on one of Spock's screens. McCoy watched, intrigued at the sight of the generator reduced to white lines and an animated image that revolved slowly in a background of bright blue.

"It's a fair bright bit of engineering," Scotty said. "He started with the Kelvan's basic design but he's refined it considerably. There's not an extra hair of weight on her yet she's got a solid power base."

Kirk eyed the image. "Can you reproduce it?"

"Aye," Scotty said. "We could make ye one. To affect an entire ship, though, will require boosting with our engine's own power."

"What exactly would it do?" Kirk asked.

Spock paused the image. "If the Klingons have grown more of these plants, the generator will trigger consecutive breaches until the potency of the plant is rendered inert."

"Meaning it would blow up under their noses," Kirk said.

Scotty nodded. "Aye, if it was so inclined. What bothers me is the way the generator would have to ride through a ship's deflector screens."

"Ride?" Kirk asked.

"The type of deflector that the Klingons use operates in opposing wavelengths. Some are shorter, faster waves. They travel out from the hull. Deeper, longer waves return in. The generator should be able to ride on these longer waves as it uses the same system. But there is a problem," Scotty said.

Spock cut in. "While each Klingon ship we have encountered has used the same type of deflector screen, each screen itself is distinctly different, such as fingerprints are from one another. Each deflector screen would require fine-tuning the generator's field."

Scotty nodded. "Though I understand the mechanics of these little beasties well enough, Captain, they're nae really in my field. They're medical equipment."

"Spock will have to help you," Kirk said.

"For each Klingon ship we encounter, Mr. Scott and I estimate we will need five to eight standard hours in order to tune the generator and set up the field," Spock said.

Kirk was quiet for a few minutes, his arms crossed against his chest. "We don't have that much time."

Scotty nodded. "But we nae the designers of this beastie. We're working second hand."

McCoy had been silent. Finally he said, "I get the feeling you're missing something."

"Elaborate," Spock said. "Have we overlooked information in the transmission or has Kór V'Rhsal omitted information?"

"I haven't seen the transmission," McCoy replied carefully. He sat down at Spock's station as the Vulcan replayed the tape. "Who translated this into standard?"

"It was in standard," Scotty said.

"Maybe if we put it in Vulcan," McCoy said. "V'Rhsal's not a linguist. And I'm used to talking about it in Vulcan so maybe something will come to me." He quieted, translating in his mind as he watched the blue screen. He heard Kirk and Scotty, behind him, cross over to the command chair, their voices low. Spock remained standing, eyeing the doctor, his gaze unreadable.

McCoy glanced around the bridge. Uhura was busy at her station. Chekov and Sulu were talking, heads together, and a stray yeoman was busy at the far wall. Finally McCoy turned back to Spock. In a voice he knew only the Vulcan could hear, and in the Vulcan's own language, he said, "All right. I admit. I could just ask him."

"It would save time," Spock replied. "Beyond this, it is your own concern."

He moved behind the doctor, shielding him should Kirk happen to glance over. Then he closed his eyes and McCoy felt a gentle support.

He stared at the screen until his eyes no longer saw it. His mind's eye travelled in and down until he saw the glint of thread that held the connection. McCoy reached and touched V'Rhsal.

There was no distance, the Vulcan as close as if he, not Spock, stood behind. They needed no words. Mind thoughts, images as quick as wisps came and went. Here and gone, a strange exaltation, and a strange heaviness. He felt the rush of blood and the flapping of dark wings. He could taste, smell, feel the Vulcan. Then he opened his eyes and he was suddenly back on the ship, his knuckles white where he was holding the board. The screen was dark.

With a start, he heard his name.

"McCoy!"

It was Kirk's voice, insistent. McCoy blinked as he turned. Spock was just opening his own eyes and everyone on the bridge, including the yeoman, was staring at him.

"McCoy, are you deaf?" Kirk paced to the rail, then stopped short. "Are you ill?"

McCoy took a deep breath. "No."

"You're white to the gills."

"I'm fine." He steadied his voice. "Spock and I have figured this out."

The Vulcan shot a glance at him, as if to say `Have we?'

McCoy loosened his hands, trying to get the feeling back into them. "It's the proximity. Remember, I told you, I had to sit the generator almost on top of the cerebellum."

"Yes..." Kirk had stepped on the upper deck, his thoughtful gaze sweeping between McCoy and Spock.

"If the generator is within the Klingon's shields, it will naturally ride the waves in. It's attracted to the longer energy waves. It won't require any fine-tuning."

Scotty burst out. "What are you saying, Leonard? We cannae get that close!"

"We can't beam anything through their shields," Kirk said.

"The shields occupy space approximately one point three kilometres out from the hull," Spock said, catching on.

"Room enough for a shuttle," McCoy added.

"WHAT?" Scotty looked aghast.

"A cloaked shuttle," Spock said.

"Suicide!" Scotty shook his head.

"I volunteer," Spock cut in, ignoring the engineer.

McCoy turned on Spock. "You can't go. You don't know how to work the generator."

"You do not know how to pilot a shuttlecraft," the Vulcan replied.

"Gentlemen," Kirk said softly. He shook his head. "I am not sending any of my crew out for that nor am I accepting volunteers."

"Captain..." Spock started.

"They may not even have grown any more of those things," Kirk said.

"We have a duty to find out," Spock said, "if for no other reason than for proof that can be offered to the Romulans."

"Aye," Scotty added. "A weapon they can simply grow is too tempting, no matter how unstable it may be. But we cannae send people out in a shuttle." At Kirk's face, he and McCoy said at the same time, "And YOU aren't going, Jim!"

"We'll see." Kirk returned to his command chair.

---

The Klingons came out of the sky at exactly shift change the next morning. Twice the usual number of people on the bridge stopped abruptly as the red alert blared out and the shields powered up. Twice as many eyed the viewscreen nervously before glancing at the Captain.

"Clear the bridge," Kirk said. His day staff swooped into their seats as the turbo lifts snapped into operation. "Status."

"She must have been cloaked," Sulu said, "because she's close. Only fourteen hundred metres from us."

"They're hailing us, Captain," Uhura said.

Kirk nodded. A moment later the sight of the Klingon Bird of Prey on the viewscreen was replaced by an equally impressive Klingon male in full military dominance.

"Captain Kirk," he said politely, his mouth moving in the Klingon version of a smile which looked more like a snarl.

"I am he."

"I am Commander Kah'arrd. I am honoured to make your acquaintance."

Kirk found polite Klingons more unnerving than angry ones. He studied the Klingon for a few moments, before asking, "Is there anything I can do for you today, Commander, or is this a social call?"

"I feel it is time to speak, my Empire to your Federation. You are aware of some recent...border developments."

Sulu glanced up suddenly. Before he could speak, four more Birds of Prey appeared on the viewscreen. Kirk managed to note the arrivals without moving a muscle on his face. Kah'arrd, obviously expecting some reaction, studied Kirk warily. Then he sat back in his chair.

"As the human phrase goes, Captain...your place or mine?"

PART TWENTY TWO

"I'm not sure about this," McCoy muttered.

Kirk smiled at him. "You volunteered, Bones." He eyed the doctor climbing into the shuttle after him. McCoy moved slowly, cradling the generator Scotty had built.

Sulu climbed in after them, followed by three burly guards.

"Strap in," Kirk said. "We're off to a party."

They waited in the red, dim light of the shuttle until the hanger doors opened. They were going to time dropping their shields with Kah'raad's own ship, slip out, and meet the Klingons' shuttle halfway. Kirk felt the risk worth taking, though it was a very high risk to leave the starship while four Birds of Prey were within kilometres. But if they wanted to destroy him, they could have easily done so by now and been out of the area. This would also be an excellent test for the generator.

The signal came down from the bridge. Sulu glanced at Kirk but the helmsman's face betrayed nothing. He simply said, "The Allegiance is ready to go."

Kirk strapped himself into the co-pilot's chair. "Take her up."

The shuttled lifted and glided gently into the black of space. Sulu flew them softly, keeping the Enterprise between them and the Klingons until it would be absolutely necessary to leave her protection. Despite the tension, it was a graceful ride. Kirk watched the great starship through the port holes, revelling in the sweeping lines of the hull and nacelles, and the great disc in shadow above.

"You never realize how big she truly is until you see her from this angle," McCoy said in a hushed voice.

"Wait until you see how big these ships are, doc," Sulu said. As they swung around, the four massive Klingon ships fell into view.

The Klingon shuttle was coming to meet them, moving at a fast clip. Of course they well could go so quickly, Kirk reflected sourly, with such back-up. He glanced at McCoy.

"Do we actually have to be within the Klingons' shields?"

"No," McCoy said, "but we have to be outside of our own."

Kirk gauged the speed of the Klingons' shuttle, then turned to Sulu. "Speed up. Let's force this closer to their ship."

The shuttles met within a kilometre and a half of Kah'raad's ship. Kirk glanced out the back viewport and grinned suddenly. "Do Vulcans swear? I can imagine how Spock must be viewing our proximity."

"I'm glad someone's enjoying this," McCoy scowled as he set up the generator behind the last seat. "This thing hums a bit while it's going."

"We'll be up front," Kirk said. He felt a gentle thud as the hatchways of the two shuttles lined up. In front of him, his security had drawn phasers and were waiting silently.

"Ready McCoy?"

"Just a moment." McCoy made a last check. He had already checked the generator in trial runs with Scotty but this last action made him feel a little bit better. He turned it on, then said, "Sulu, just to let you know. If they're stupid enough to have grown any more of those plants, we may not wish to be this close."

"How long will it take?" Kirk asked.

McCoy frowned. "I don't know. Ten minutes or ten days. It depends on the plant."

Kirk stood and assumed an air of nonchalance. "All right, Sulu."

They opened the doorway. Kah'raad led his troop into the doorway and raised his fist in the Klingon salute. "Captain Kirk."

"Commander," Kirk nodded.

Kah'raad strode forward until he was a few inches from Kirk. "I have heard much of you."

"I have heard nothing of you," Kirk replied impassively, noting his men flinching at the nearness of the Klingon, their hands tightening on their phaser belts.

Kah'raad's eyes swept over Kirk's men. He had only two men to Kirk's five, unless there were more in his shuttle. After a long scrutiny, he said, "What I wish to say to you, Captain Kirk, is of some importance. Do you trust all of these men?"

"With my life," Kirk said, smiling.

"Your life is not the issue here," Kah'raad said with a shrug. "I will speak regarding issues of some sensitivity in our governments."

Kirk motioned the Klingon to the front chairs, then nodded at his security. "Four metres."

They stepped back the appropriate distance, which happened to put them almost on top of the Klingon guards. Sulu, after another glance from Kirk, joined McCoy in the back of the shuttle.

The two Captains studied each other for a moment. Then Kah'raad leaned forward and said something that came as a low mumble to McCoy's ears. There was a pause, then Kirk said something equally as low. McCoy exchanged a glance with Sulu. The generator hummed with a queer, rather unpleasant vibration that ran right up his legs.

"Should we be so close?" Sulu asked in a whisper.

McCoy shrugged. "To the Klingons or to this thing? It's enclosed except for this small opening." McCoy indicated a vent which was pointed at the shuttle's wall. "Scotty made it directional."

"Let's hope he did," Sulu said. "I can feel it in my calves." He quieted for a few moments, then said, "But if it's aimed at their ship, what will it do to them?"

The doctor returned Sulu's look grimly. "Let's hope none of them have any weak arteries."

Kirk and Kah'raad were still speaking low. Their guards, antsy, were shuffling from foot to foot and watching each other like hawks.

"Damnit, hurry up!" McCoy whispered, shaking his legs to get rid of the vibration from the generator. But it was nearly another ten minutes before Kirk and Kah'raad rose. They exchanged the Klingon salute again, and the Klingon returned to his shuttle. His guards sneered at the Enterprise men before following. The hatchway closed.

"Let's go home," Kirk said, looking sombre.

Sulu returned to his chair as McCoy shut off the generator. During the trip back, Kirk asked, "Well, McCoy?"

"The generator worked fine. The possibilities are that there were no boojums, that there was no plant, or that they've improved the plant so that the generator no longer affects it."

"I don't like that last one." The Captain turned his attention back out the viewscreen, obviously distracted.

They waited outside the hanger doors for Spock's signal. Finally they were back and the doors shut behind them.

Kirk hit the intercom. "Bridge."

"Spock here, Captain. I trust everyone is well."

Kirk chuckled. "If that's your way of wondering if any of us got out heads blown off, you can rest easy. Prepare for warp speed, Spock. I'll be up there momentarily."

---

Kirk, Spock, and Tyne Misu were at a table when McCoy entered the mess hall. He punched up a salad and tea from the food processor and joined them.

Kirk's face still wore the slightly distracted half-frown. Tyne and Spock, however, were a chunk of normalcy, she venting rapid questions at the Vulcan and he responding nimbly in his famous lecturing drone. McCoy sat down in time to hear Tyne say, "...but the genetics of it are all wrong!" She turned to the doctor. "Len, tell him-"

"I'm on break tonight," McCoy interrupted, amused. "It's Spock's turn to deal with you."

"Deal with me?" she snorted. "These are logical questions."

"Not entirely," Spock said in a politely neutral tone.

She pretended to huff into silence which, co-incidentally quieted the whole table.

McCoy glanced at Kirk. The Captain was merely picking at his steak.

"Not hungry, Jim?"

Kirk brought his full attention back to the table. He glanced at McCoy's plate. "You should talk, Bones. Where are you hiding the rabbit?"

"Believe it or not, Jim, vegetables are actually good for you."

"You can't fool me, Bones. Give or take an hour, you'll be back here looking for the cows."

Tyne glanced up. "Len, I thought you told me you were a vegetarian."

Kirk eyed her, then roared, "HIM? A vegetarian? He's eaten so many bovine he could have started his own herd."

Tyne broke in. "I haven't seen him eat any meat."

McCoy shrugged. "My lips have not touched meat for over two years."

"I don't think your lips ever touched it, it went down so fast," Kirk said.

Spock cut in. "I see Vulcan has had a positive influence on you, doctor."

"I think you've got that backwards."

Kirk glanced between Spock and the doctor thoughtfully. "Just what the hell are the two of you up to?"

"Pardon?" Spock asked as McCoy managed to look mildly intrigued.

Kirk shook his head. "Don't play innocent. It's like waiting for a bomb to go off. The two of you have been in cahoots ever since we came back from Vulcan."

"Cahoots?" Spock queried?

"Hardly!" McCoy said. "In fact, I'm waiting for the `other shoe to drop'."

"If you are referring to retaliation for the route you used for the Khlabar vaccine," Spock said, "then you may rest your mind. Vulcans are not vengeful."

"Like hell. I just spent two years on your planet, remember?" McCoy said, but to his surprise, Kirk did not pick up on the interplay. "Jim, what's wrong?"

Kirk put down his coffee, which was now cold. "Nothing's wrong, Bones. Spock, if you're done, I'd like you to take a turn on the bridge with me."

The Vulcan rose immediately. When they were in the turbo-lift, Kirk said, "Spock, there's something I need followed up. Discreetly."

Spock waited. Finally Kirk reached over and slapped the halt button. "I need you to check up on V'Rhsal and also on his wife. Her name's Sah'Sheer and she's on the Nézni in the Mutari sector."

"Check for what, Jim?"

"Anything. Everything. Background, family, political affiliations, what they do, what they own." Kirk led out a breath. "I didn't want to ask you this in front of McCoy."

"I see," Spock said neutrally.

"Or in front of Dr. Misu either. She and Bones are getting rather friendly. I've caught her coming out of his cabin."

"May I inquire as to the reasons for this?"

"Kah'raad may be setting me up but he told me the Klingons who met the Romulan envoy were working on their own."

"Why would he impart such information to you?" Spock asked.

"He claims he thinks I can act." Kirk tightened his jaw. "He said the Romulans have been retaliating against Klingon ships and I don't doubt that. The Klingons are probably suffering heavy losses at their borders. Kah'raad claims it's a Vulcan supplying the plants, many of them."

"Does he know the Vulcan's name?"

Kirk looked away. "V'Rhsal."

Spock was quiet for a few moments, then he said, "Jim, it is unlikely."

"McCoy said himself that whoever the stole the plant had to get by an extensive security system and it was extensive. We saw it ourselves. I don't think a fly could have got past."

"If Kór V'Rhsal had committed such an irrational act, Dr. McCoy would have known."

"Not necessarily. Bones said he came home to find the plant gone. It didn't happen while he was there."

"Irrelevant," Spock said. "McCoy would have known."

Kirk eyed Spock for a long time. Then he said simply, "Why?"

"It is not my place to say."

"Spock, we're dealing with a possible war. Tell me."

"Jim, I cannot. I am a Vulcan before I am a Starfleet officer."

Kirk leaned back heavily against the railing. He lowered his voice too. "Spock, there are words you've told me that I have never heard. There are things only we know between ourselves and they have gone beyond my commission."

Spock nodded. "Yes, but if McCoy has not spoken of this to you, I will not do so. It concerns nothing relevant to either of us, or to the Klingon/Romulan situation. I will post an alternate theory. En'Sah'Sheer must know the security system as well."

"Which is why I need her checked," Kirk said. "And don't change the subject, Spock. At this point, I'm ready to confine McCoy to his quarters."

"That is your privilege."

"Spock, for God's sakes!"

"Ask the doctor yourself."

"I would, if I knew what the hell to ask!" Kirk said frustratedly. "Spock, when we get to the bridge, I'm going to order this ship back to Vulcan to pick up V'Rhsal."

"You have been in further contact with him?"

"Just before dinner. He thinks he's coming on board as a civilian advisor."

"That would be his official capacity," Spock said tonelessly.

"I don't know what to believe yet. I need information, not guessing games. If V'Rhsal is responsible for this, he's committed treason against the Federation. I'm to keep my eye on him and that's been handed to me by Admiral Nogura direct." Kirk met the Vulcan's eyes. "Can't you see the position I'm in? f I do end up arresting V'Rhsal, what kind of conflict on interest does that present for McCoy now that there's this big unknown regarding them? Maybe you think their personal consideration ranks higher than an eagle's ass but it pales next to an interstellar concern."

Spock released the halt button. "Jim, I can no more tell you his confidences than him yours. However, I do not believe you will ever have the inclination to arrest Kór V'Rhsal."

PART TWENTY THREE

Kirk sought out McCoy early the next morning. He found the doctor setting up the lab and making coffee.

"I thought I'd catch you now before our days get busy."

McCoy took a chair. "What's up?"

"I wanted to ask you about what happened on the bridge the day before yesterday. I called your name four times before you heard me. I called Spock twice but he was off in some never-never land too. And the both of you looked sick beyond belief."

McCoy didn't respond. Finally, Kirk said, "I asked Spock about it but he clammed up."

"Sorry, Jim. I didn't hear you calling me."

Kirk outstared the doctor. When McCoy dropped his gaze, Kirk felt something inside him drop too.

The ship's intercom droned quietly from the hall and, in the next room, a door opened and closed. "We'll be meeting a Vulcan convoy in a few hours," Kirk said at last.

"I know," McCoy said.

"You do?"

"V'Rhsal's coming on board."

In a neutral voice, Kirk said, "I thought we could use his knowledge about the generator first-hand."

"You also think he's the one who gave it to the Klingons," McCoy retorted.

Kirk felt a cold stab of anger. "Spock was way out of line to---"

"I haven't spoken to Spock since he left for the bridge with you," McCoy said. "Besides, what else should I think?" The doctor frowned. "Jim, I don't understand your attitude towards V'Rhsal. You've hardly been around him."

"Bones, it's not that."

"It isn't anything else," McCoy said. "V'Rhsal no more gave this to the Klingons than you did. It's ludicrous to think so."

"Two years ago I would have taken your word on this. On anything," Kirk said.

The doctor stared at him. "Do you think I've changed my whole value system in two years? I am a Starfleet officer. Beyond that, I am your friend."

"But there's a difference in you," Kirk said.

"You've changed a bit too."

"You've changed a lot."

"Have I?" McCoy looked genuinely pained. Then it passed. "Jim, two years ago, I walked through the Shi'Kaver Hospital. I saw a Vulcan restrained, strapped in a chair. He couldn't move an inch. He'd lost the ability to speak. When he opened his mouth, he drooled, like an infant. He even had to wear diapers. And do you know what the prognosis was? He had another two, maybe even three years left. Can you imagine?"

Kirk shook his head.

"V'Rhsal lost his father to Khlabar, and a close friend. He had a brother who was showing symptoms." He drew a deep breath. "V'Rhsal wanted to try a neural generator which was, like, one of the longest shots there is. He asked for my help. After seeing that man on the ward, I didn't hesitate. Then V'Rhsal said there was a way to get an edge on our partnership, a way to truly pool our resources." McCoy finally looked up. "The mind meld."

Kirk looked about as utterly stunned as McCoy had ever seen him. He choked out, "You? With HIM? You didn't!"

"I did," the doctor replied quietly. "V'Rhsal ended his meld with his wife to join with me."

Kirk sat down as it went through him. Then, suddenly, he said, "You're still melded, aren't you? And Spock knows?"

"He's known for two years. He sensed the meld through me."

Kirk frowned. "But you hated it. Those few times that Spock..."

"Yes, I hated it."

Kirk searched McCoy's face. "Bones, why are you still melded?"

For a moment, the doctor's expression was the most unguarded that Kirk had ever seen. "Jim, I don't know. I'm...reluctant to end it just yet, I guess."

Kirk chose his next words carefully, "This puts you in the worst possible position. Starfleet ordered me to watch him. Why didn't you tell me before?"

"It's a very personal matter where Vulcans are concerned. I guess where I'm concerned too. Everything he is. Everything I am. It's all there. It's like walking around with my fly always open." The doctor refilled his cup. "Now that you know, you have to act in accordance with regulations. If you feel him guilty, you'll have to assume I've been covering for him. And if you fail to make that assumption, Starfleet will accuse you of a cover-up and it'll be your ass as well."

With a stricken look, Kirk said, "McCoy, if they find you guilty of treason, it's a death sentence."

To his astonishment, McCoy laughed. "Jim, for heaven's sakes, I can just see me sitting in the court room and the prosecutor says, `guilty of supplying weapons to a hostile faction' and out they come with exhibit A, one big fern."

"It's hardly a joking matter."

"It's hardly serious either. Jim, he can't go to the bathroom that I don't know about it."

Kirk was silent for a few minutes longer. Then, gently, he said, "Bones, if you break this meld now, I can keep you out of it. Surely it can't be that pleasant for you."

McCoy studied Kirk. "Why do you dislike him so much?"

"He sets off every internal alarm I have. I don't trust him."

"I do, Jim. Obviously, with everything."

---

To play it safe, Kirk had the department heads on hand to greet the Vulcan shuttle, if for no other reason than to make the appearance of respect. McCoy sent Christine Chapel as medical representative, an action Kirk was not comfortable with. Spock, however, seemed to have no unease, and acted as if the conversation with Kirk in the turbo lift had never happened. Kirk eyed the Vulcan as the shuttle came to final docking. So he had known for two years. On the other hand it certainly explained the disparity in Spock's attitude with McCoy since the latter's return.

The hatchway opened and V'Rhsal walked down the plank.

"Welcome aboard," Kirk said, smiling. The smile was quickly extinguished as the black eyes bored through to his backbone as they studied him.

"Captain," V'Rhsal said. If he had any inkling of the real reason Kirk had invited him on board, he gave no sign. Then again, Kirk could hardly expect he would. This one was all Vulcan.

V'Rhsal glanced at Spock. "Kór Spock, I look forward to discussing the Asimov Paradox with you."

"I look forward to it," Spock said. "The Chief Engineer, Mr. Scott, and I have made some progress in that direction since our last discussion."

Scotty stepped forward, a large grin on his face. "Pleased to meet you, sir. Your generator design is a bonny thing."

V'Rhsal paused. Then, to Kirk's amazement, warmth invaded the black gaze. "The design meets your approval then?"

"Meets my approval?" Scotty echoed. "Heavens, man! But if you'd care to work on something with me, I've got his idea concerning the warp engines..."

Kirk interrupted. "Mr. V'Rhsal, I extend my gratitude to you for agreeing to this mission. I feel it only right to warn you, though. We're on our way to the borders. I cannot guarantee your safety."

"You indicated such in your communiqué, Captain," the Vulcan replied.

Kirk stepped back. "Due to security, I am afraid you're restricted to diplomatic limits. My officers will explain this to you and show you to your cabin. There is a briefing tonight at 1900 hours."

He left Spock and Scotty to do the introductions with the rest of the officers and returned to the bridge.

PART TWENTY FOUR

Scotty was the only one in the briefing room when Kirk arrived that evening. The Scotsman looked a little flushed and Kirk, with a flash of suspicion, asked, "Scotty, are you sure you're up to this meeting?"

Scotty looked somewhat offended. "What do ye mean?"

"Let me smell your breath," Kirk said.

"Well, it was a wee nip," Scotty said. "But then, it isn't often we get the likes of that Vulcan laddie on board. We spent the afternoon in the engine room, fine-tuning as it were."

"You fine-tuned the warp engines while under the influence of Scotch?" Kirk asked. "Scotty, you heard me say diplomatic limits."

"We were in my office and we had the drink after the tour. To celebrate, ye see."

"We?"

"Well, the Vulcan laddie had a drop too."

"Are you pulling my leg, Mr. Scott?"

"It's true," Scotty said. "I opened my own private stock. Sure and enough but he gets a glass and joins me. He may be a Vulcan but he knows a good brand of scotch when he sees it."

As Kirk was trying to visualize the scene, the door opened and Spock and Sulu entered.

Kirk nodded at them, then continued, "Scotty, did the two of you have any time to devote to the generator, the reason Kór V'Rhsal came on board?"

"Well sure, but then Leonard came in. He and V'Rhsal disappeared somewhere and never came back."

Uhura and DeSalle, the chief of security, showed up next. Finally McCoy and V'Rhsal came in and took the remaining seats.

Kirk took a long look around him before speaking. "The Enterprise will be at Space Station C-6 in eighteen days. We will be meeting Romulan representatives to discuss possible treaty violations. I have no need to tell you what can happen should the Romulans feel we have broken the peace."

"It's the Klingons they have the fight with," DeSalle said.

Kirk shrugged. "That's not as clear to them. A Federation party consisting of Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan, Ambassador R'Heave of Delta, and Ambassador Chen of Earth will be at Station C-6 tomorrow. Hopefully, they'll break some ground for us. Our job will be to provide such evidence as we can in support of the Federation delegates. That means verification of the plant that the Klingons are using, proof that they've refined it on their own initiative, and any documentation that will clear Vulcan of charges of weapons conspiracy. To get such proof, it's imperative that we force encounters between ourselves and the Klingons. The odds aren't the greatest, but if we can run up against a Klingon ship that has a plant on board, we can detonate it using the generator. Organian Treaty will allow us some flexibility to take the ship back with us to C-6 as evidence."

Kirk saw Uhura and Sulu exchange a glum look. McCoy frowned. "Force encounters? Do you mean actively provoke the Klingons?"

Kirk nodded. "This course of action was decided upon by Federation council. Mr. Sulu, your job will be to plot us a nice course that puts us right through the most heavily accessed of their borders."

"I've spent years trying to avoid those spots," Sulu said softly.

"I hope you've all met Mr. V'Rhsal by now," Kirk continued. "He is the designer of the generator. Hopefully, he'll be able to come up with a way for us to avoid sending a shuttlecraft within the one point three kilometre radius of Klingon shields."

Spock interrupted. "Captain, this course of action could cause...misfortune for the Klingon crew."

"I'm aware that some Klingon lives may be lost," Kirk said. "It's a necessary risk."

"Captain, if we take a Klingon ship in tow, are we not in danger of provoking the Klingon Empire?" Uhura asked. "We could end up with war on two fronts at once."

"If we do take a Klingon ship, it will be only to prove the existence of the plant," Kirk said. "The Klingons will have breached the treaty, not us. Actually, the Federation's first directive was to leave this issue entirely between the Klingons and the Romulans. Unfortunately Vulcan has been dragged into it. We have been forced to act." Kirk paused before adding, "Mr. Spock, Mr. Scott, and Mr. V'Rhsal, your work will be with the generator. Mr. Sulu, if we do take a ship, your Away team will board her and transfer sufficient Starfleet personnel to run her. Dr. McCoy would also be boarding with a Medical Team to treat the injured. Mr. DeSalle, our `guests' would be your responsibility. Lt. Uhura, your job will be to send ahead to the Federation Delegation all documentation possible to clear Vulcan and the Federation of any complicity. Any questions?"

The barrage of discussion that followed made Kirk almost wish he hadn't asked. He noted, however, that neither V'Rhsal and McCoy said anything. Even Spock seemed unusually quiet. It wasn't until the meeting had cleared and he and Spock were the only ones left in the briefing room, that the Vulcan said, "Jim, would you, in fact, use Kór V'Rhsal, then deliver him over to Organian law?"

"That's a surprising question, Spock. Are you convinced of his guilt?"

"Hardly," Spock said. "But I was under the impression that you were."

"Spock, I'm not convinced, but if it wasn't him, then who got past that security?"

"There is an obvious answer," Spock said.

"I know." Kirk shook his head. "And if that's so, we're still dealing with a Vulcan."

---

Kirk flew out of sleep at the blare of the red alert. He slammed the intercom. "What's going on?"

"Explosion in shuttle bay, sir," Uhura said. "Deck being sealed off now."

Kirk ran into the turbo, carrying his shirt. In the lower deck, Scotty, McCoy, and a security team were standing outside the shuttle bay doors.

"Atmosphere ok," the Scotsman said. "No hull breach. Ready for entry."

"Open it up," Kirk said.

The heavy doors rolled back. Kirk glanced into the smoky gloom tentatively. McCoy, following, was holding a tricorder.

"I don't read anyone down here," he said, with a trace of relief.

"The bays should be empty at this time," Scotty said. He nodded at his men. "Spread out."

Kirk stepped carefully. "It smells like...burnt pine cones."

McCoy stopped and sniffed the air. His face suddenly dropped. "My God!"

"Bones?" Kirk asked.

"I know that smell. It's..." The doctor looked down. Kirk squinted through the debris-swirling atmosphere. There was something on the floor.

"Shit!" McCoy said. "Jim, we've got to get out of here!"

Kirk took a step towards the doctor and tripped over a rustling, feathery thing he couldn't see. Whatever it was groaned at his movement and slithered around his ankles.

McCoy fanned the air, trying to get a better look. "Jim, we've got to eject this off the ship. God forbid it should get into the ventilators."

"Eject what?" Kirk started but then he saw it. Long tendrils of what resembled heavy, brown ropes stirred over the tops of his boots, whispering and moaning. "Is this your plant?" Kirk whispered.

"It's NOT mine!" McCoy glared back. "It's a different one."

"Scotty, clear these men out."

The Scotchman was not easily moved by shrubbery. "We could use a pitchfork."

"This isn't funny," McCoy said, holding out his tricorder. "Look at the energy readings."

Scotty's face changed. He took a second look, then called out, "Come on, Lads. On tiptoes. You set your heels on the floor and you'll be working a double, I tell ye!"

"We'll secure the shuttles, open the hatch, and let it get blown out," Kirk said.

He stepped gently to the nearest shuttle, the Spirit, and locked its front pads to the loading dock. As he crept around to the rear pads, he saw the Allegiance tipped on her side. Blackened around a hole that gaped from her doorway were burnt, black vines spiderwebbed across the metal.

"Looks like the Klingons left us a present," Kirk said grimly. Or else V'Rhsal did, but he didn't voice that thought aloud. "Hurry up, Bones."

"Of course I'm hurrying!" McCoy retorted as he secured the Galileo. "I never liked this thing before!"

Kirk fastened the last pads, then straightened, his face thoughtful. "Scotty!"

"Here, Captain." The Scotchman was near the Allegiance, a sour expression on his face.

"Set up a containment field, pronto! I want a sample of this."

"Jim, that's dangerous," McCoy said.

"It's also evidence," Kirk said.

"Of what?" McCoy asked. "It doesn't prove a thing as far as the Klingons go."

"And it doesn't clear your partner either," Kirk said. "If you think the Klingons have refined it, chances are they've mixed it with some native Klingon weed."

"Jim, my tricorder reads energy to the sixth power."

"And we're up to our butts in it," Kirk shrugged.

"Goddamn smart ass sense of humour..." McCoy muttered as he stepped carefully towards the door. As he neared it, V'Rhsal entered, carrying a portable field generator. His black eyes swept across the shuttle bay.

"I know!" McCoy grumbled. He moved into the hallway. A few minutes later, Kirk, Scotty, and the Vulcan followed, cradling a piece of the plant encased in a force field.

Kirk secured the doorway, then opened the intercom. "Bridge."

"Spock here."

"Open the hanger doors."

"Captain, we have not pressurised the..."

"NOW!"

There was a low, rumbling vibration as the doors opened. The secured shuttles lifted slightly as the gravity and life support were overcome. The rest of the movement was not so gentle. Every bulb in the hanger suddenly exploded. The Allegiance hurled towards the opening. One of her pylons caught on the inside hull and wrenched sickeningly as she was sucked from the bay. A first aid kit flew after her, then a blur of a red toolbox. The roar of air was almost deafening.

"Harper! What did I tell ye about leaving your tools around?" Scotty yelled from behind Kirk. "This'll be coming out of your pay!"

"Captain," came Spock's voice from the intercom. "Scanners read high energy fluctuations from the Allegiance."

"I don't doubt it," Kirk said. "Tell Sulu to lock phasers on her and you can close the bay doors now."

"Federated Greenpeace won't like the way we're throwing our junk into space," Scotty commented after the doors had closed.

Kirk studied the piece of plant floating gently in containment. "Is that field strong enough?"

V'Rhsal nodded. "It is adequate. Captain Kirk, this is not the same vine that Dr. McCoy and I grew."

Scotty frowned. "It looks like a bloody fern. `Tis hard to believe it stores energy."

"Captain, the Allegiance has been destroyed," came Sulu's voice from the bridge.

"Good," Kirk replied. "Scotty, take it down to engineering. Mr. Sulu, I've got a flower delivery for you."

---

Kirk stared across the science station at the lit viewscreen. "No doubt, eh?"

Sulu and Tyne were hunched over the board. Spock stood quietly behind the Captain.

"No doubt at all," Tyne said. "For once, Mr. Sulu and I agree on something."

The Helmsman chuckled as he pointed at the blowup of the plant's cell structure on the screen. "This is definitely from Vulcan. I'd guess a le'croya or miiko plant pollen from the atomic arrangement. But see, right here, the space between has been reduced and there's an extra molecule, the arrangement of which I've never seen before."

"Could it be a Klingon plant?" Kirk asked.

Sulu shrugged. "I can't tell. It's not organic though. Our computer has no match for it but we can be definite on one point. This atomic structure has been deliberately engineered. It's not a natural grouping."

"Why is it so explosive?"

"The arrangement is holding under protest, Captain," Tyne said. "The whole system's strained. It's designed to collapse."

"The original part of the plant, the Vulcan part, stored energy in weak cells," Kirk said.

"It was being true to its blueprints," Sulu said. "As the design for the cell structure had been made by computer, I doubt that Dr. McCoy could have known it would be an unstable arrangement. It was just bad luck that the generator he used set off the stored energy."

"Can you and Tyne figure out how this plant has been altered from its original Vulcan state because, at this point, we still don't have any proof of Klingon involvement."

Tyne and Sulu exchanged a look, then she said, "We could try."

Kirk nodded. "Start now, then. Borrow who you need from Science and Medical sections. Mr. Sulu, arrange a relief for the helm."

PART TWENTY FIVE

Kirk got the call from engineering early the next morning. After a quick shower, he grabbed a coffee and headed down to the lower decks. Scotty and V'Rhsal were in a storage office, sitting at a desk littered with papers, tapes, and tools. Scotty, grinning proudly, placed what looked like a shiny, metal coin on the table in front of Kirk. "There's your generator."

"The neural field generator? That little thing?" Kirk asked.

V'Rhsal also sat. "It is not much bigger than the generator I originally designed for Leonard."

Kirk glanced at Scotty. "The one you made was a lot larger."

"Aye," Scotty shrugged. "But this is what it's supposed to be, just beautiful."

V'Rhsal picked the generator up and balanced it on his forefinger. "Mr. Scott and I tuned it to affect the refined plant tissue."

"And the range?" Kirk asked, eyeing it dubiously.

"It would still need to be off the starship," V'Rhsal said. "However, I believe it would work within an eleven hundred kilometre range. It would require shielding with a single vent to avoid affecting the person operating it."

Kirk scowled. "It looks like a ten credit coin. Are you trying to tell me that little thing will affect a ship?"

V'Rhsal's dark gaze regarded Kirk dispassionately for a moment. "It will affect the plant."

Scotty picked it off the Vulcan's finger and held it up to the light as if he were displaying his first born. "It's a work of art."

"The two of you haven't been into that scotch again?" Kirk warned.

Scotty shook his head. "We haven't had time to celebrate. I think I may have a wee bottle in the back."

He set the generator on the table, then left the room. Kirk gingerly picked up the object and regarded it curiously. Finally he looked up into the Vulcan's indifferent eyes.

"I sure hope this works because Dr. McCoy will be the one out in a shuttle."

"Leonard told me."

Kirk rose, shaking his head. "Scotty I can understand. He lives for this. Well, Mr. V'Rhsal, maybe we'll get an opportunity to test this out soon."

---

They found a Klingon ship that morning. She challenged the Enterprise, who was conspicuously on the wrong side of the border. Then, for no reason Kirk could discern, warped back into Klingon space.

"Bizarre," Kirk said.

"Disquieting," Spock commented. "They may be gathering backup."

Three hours later, they came upon a macho Klingon in a small scout with no sense of perception. McCoy and a pilot, in a shuttle, flew into the Klingon's blind side. However there was no reaction from the scout. After putting up with phaser fire, Kirk recalled the Spirit and retreated into Federation space.

Spock, at the science station, said, "Captain, we could meet with many Klingon ships before finding one with a plant on board."

"I know. We'll just have to keep trying. We may have to go after the bigger ships."

"I'm sure the doctor will appreciate your viewpoint," Spock replied.

Two days and seven Klingon ships later, Kirk came upon V'Rhsal in McCoy's quarters. "I have to ask you something."

The Vulcan's unsettling look fastened on the Captain. Kirk stood his ground. Holding the dime-sized generator, he asked, "Does this really work?"

"Yes Captain," V'Rhsal said. "Your own chief engineer verified it."

Kirk rubbed his chin. "I'm risking Dr. McCoy out there and some of these Klingons can get rather nasty."

"I am aware of the shuttle's complement," V'Rhsal replied. "I regret that these encounters with the Empire have not been more satisfying for you."

"I'm trying to prevent a war here," Kirk said. "I'm trying to get documentation and get out to Station C-6. The original plant did come from your basement. We still haven't explained that one either."

V'Rhsal, sitting across McCoy's desk, did not answer. Kirk noticed McCoy, in a chair by the doorway, fidgeting angrily however.

"You can understand that the Romulans are going to ask how the plant got from point A to point B," Kirk said.

"It is an obvious question," V'Rhsal said.

"Do you have any idea?"

"I do not," the Vulcan replied.

Kirk felt a wave of frustration wash over him. He'd spoken with V'Rhsal several times since the Vulcan had come on board, but each time had been brief and unpleasant. Even Spock had been more verbal when Kirk had first met him.

He decided to try a different route. "When the Romulans ask me who the Vulcan was that supplied the Klingons, what do you think I should tell them?"

"The truth, Captain, that you do not possess that knowledge," V'Rhsal replied tonelessly.

Kirk chose his next words carefully. "If I tell them that, their next suggestion may be that you come down to the meeting so that they can cut your balls off."

V'Rhsal did not look the least alarmed. Of course, Kirk thought glumly, he probably wouldn't know what an alarmed Vulcan did look like. "Mr. V'Rhsal, since you're on my ship, I am, in a sense, responsible for you."

"Illogical, Captain. I chose freely to come on board the Enterprise."

Kirk lowered his voice. "Mr. V'Rhsal, I saw the security around your house. Who else knows the system but you?"

McCoy held up a hand. "Me."

Kirk didn't acknowledge the doctor. Without moving his eyes from the Vulcan's face, he asked softly, "What about your wife? Where is she?"

"I have no wife, Captain," V'Rhsal said.

"Yes you do," Kirk said. "A geologist. Sah'Sheer. She's allegedly on a science vessel."

"She is my former wife."

Kirk clamped his jaw. "Mr. V'Rhsal, I'm trying to get to the bottom of this. It's not only my duty. I giving you the benefit of the doubt because of your association with Dr. McCoy."

"Captain, if I had any facts, I would impart them to you."

Kirk eyed the Vulcan for a long time before finally rising. "If you would even tell me your best theory, I would make every effort to help you prove it." When the Vulcan did not answer, Kirk finally left.

McCoy glanced at V'Rhsal. "I'm getting a little tired of these 'encounters' between the two of you. I can't figure out what's going on."

"I do not comprehend human motivation, however, he must have seen the change in you. It is, perhaps, more of a change than he expected from such a short duration apart."

McCoy frowned. "What change?"

"I see it," the Vulcan said, humoured. "Does your captain know of our meld?"

"I didn't figure it was his...or anyone's business. But, yes, I told him. I think we both understand, though we have never spoken of it, that she might have to be dragged back. When I feel your time coming, I will tell her. I will go and damnwell move her myself."

"Do you think I could take someone forced to me?"

McCoy looked down. "There will be a time when you won't care one way or another."

V'Rhsal took a moment to answer. "Leonard, I sent a message to Sah'Sheer just after you left. I told her that you and I had ended our meld and...my blood burned."

McCoy glanced up but the Vulcan's face was stolid. "Where is she then?"

V'Rhsal continued impassively. "I have sent the formal declarations to her family of my intent to end the marriage. They have not responded. I may understand their silence as acquiescence."

"But what will you do when...?"

"I have time yet."

"Since she hasn't returned, it sure makes her suspect."

"She has betrayed me. Worse, she has betrayed Vulcan code."

"And Federation laws. My Lord, why?"

"My logic has failed to find an answer."

"Will you inform Vulcan council?"

"I have already," V'Rhsal said.

McCoy frowned. "Then why didn't you tell the Captain?"

"It is proper to go through Vulcan council."

"He thinks it's you!"

"He did before he contacted me to come on board."

"I'm trying to help you," McCoy said. "You're so stubborn!"

V'Rhsal looked amused. "I am a Vulcan. This is our way."

McCoy got up and paced the room. "He doesn't trust you. He doesn't understand how I can trust you enough to keep going out in that shuttle."

"Leonard, why do you go out?"

"That's our plant. Do you need to ask?"

"Guilt is valueless."

"Oh please shut up," McCoy said wearily, his back to the Vulcan.

At length, V'Rhsal stood as well and took a few steps to the door. "It is late, Leonard."

Minutes passed, and still the Vulcan had not left. McCoy finally turned but V'Rhsal's face was a mask, the eyes hooded and unrevealing.

"Leonard, do you ever think on that one morning and what happened between us?"

McCoy fastened his eyes on a piece of the floor tiling that had curled up. "It's kind of hard to forget."

"Leonard, I prefer you."

McCoy felt suddenly sick, right to the pit of his stomach.

"Can it be so?" he asked, hushed.

"However, you told me that you preferred female contact."

"I think..I'd rather have you."

The thread between them quivered.

"Leonard, will you lock your door?"

He complied, moving numbly to enter the code and a sleeping override, an electronic barrier that would silence all but the captain's communications. Tentatively, he took those few steps over to the Vulcan and touched him, felt the alien warmth under his fingers. They stilled in the gentle contact.

...remarkable, leonard...

McCoy drew a shaky breath at the mind touch.

there is something that humans would do now.

yes.

He ran his fingers up the Vulcan's shirt, brushing the tensed muscle and the expanse at the collarbone.

when do you return to your sickbay?

tomorrow morning.

V'Rhsal laid his hand on McCoy's.

the beginning of pleasure, leonard.

PART TWENTY SIX

A shrill squeal pierced his ears. McCoy jerked awake to find himself covered with a tangle of blanket. He groped for the intercom.

"...um...McCoy here."

"Bones, sorry to wake you. We have a possible long-range contact with a Klingon ship. She's big. Likely a bird of prey," came Kirk's voice.

"Ok. I'll be up soon." McCoy shut off the intercom and turned to see V'Rhsal awake, his eyes narrowed.

"Again, Leonard?"

McCoy rubbed his eyes. "I'll be damned if anyone goes out in that shuttle in my place."

"You call me stubborn."

McCoy pushed at him. "Look! I've got two inches between you and the wall, for heaven's sakes! You always squish me."

V'Rhsal allowed a small smile to soften his brow. "My apologies." As he loosened the covers so that he could move, his hands grazed the doctor. A strong surge followed his touch.

"I am honoured that you have permitted me a fulfilment of our bonding. But, always and at any time, it is your choice too."

McCoy shook his head. "What I have done..."

"What we have done," the Vulcan corrected.

"I've gone down a path I never thought I'd go."

The Vulcan studied him with black eyes, stillness like pondwater.

"V'Rhsal, I'm just wondering idly. Can two males survive pon farr?"

He took a long time to answer. "I do not want that to happen to you."

"Can two males survive?"

"There are male only marriages on Vulcan."

"Many?"

V'Rhsal smiled. "I do not know the exact count." He touched McCoy again, placing his fingertips to the doctor's in a caress of familiarity. That which joined them expanded and engulfed.

They had no need to assume the classic mind-meld position, fingertips to temples, Vulcan superior, Human supine. They were touching, McCoy knew, but where now? Fingertips, thighs, arms - where else? Everywhere and nowhere, so strange, this sensation. Where did one's skin end and the other's begin?

if i knock you up, v'rhsal, i promise i'll do the right thing by you.

McCoy felt V'Rhsal's smile in their minds, laughter like ripples. Whose synapses? Both, now. The joy of it. The sheer pleasure of the touching.

why is this so new to you, v'rhsal? didn't you ever make love with your wife?

translation. human term for sexual act.

McCoy's mentally laughed.

ok, didn't you ever perform a sexual act with your wife?

it was a frenzy. i would not call it love. it was not pleasurable either.

V'Rhsal felt the human's response to this. Felt something else too, something deeper, and it was delightfully sexy.

leonard, tell me about human love. tell me about sacrifice. tell me about needing. tell me how it feels to care for someone so much you would give your life for them.

So he told him. He told V'Rhsal, then realized the Vulcan already knew. The old knowledge, buried on a deeper level. But what were levels to them now? He felt the Vulcan at the deepest part of him, and that was only the beginning, like touching the sand at the bottom of the sea, only to find more sand below, and more and more, opening all of yourself and there was no all, no boundaries, no start, no end.

Someone could have been hammering on the door. McCoy knew he wouldn't hear. They were too far inner-directed. Outside ceased to exist. There came only the rhythms and tides of V'Rhsal's mind in his, and his in V'Rhsal's, and the delicious sensation of their skin on one another. It was fluid, so ecstatic, this mindsex. He felt a peak building, the rise of the wave to the tip of the iceberg.

He felt V'Rhsal's crisp thought.

i give you my name, leonard.

He told him his secret name, his lover's name.

what can i give you in return?

this, leonard. what you are giving me. this and this...and this.

And it was breathtaking.

---

A Klingon Bird of Prey sat heavy on the viewscreen. McCoy looked at it and his heart sank.

Kirk shook his head. "You're not going out this time, Bones."

"Pardon me?"

turned at the doctor's tone. "I'm sending someone else."

"Who?" McCoy challenged. "Who else knows how to work the generator?" There was a flash in the blue eyes unfamiliar to the captain.

Uhura and Spock looked up at the interchange. "I will go," Spock said.

"I can't risk you," Kirk said, still eyeing McCoy in surprise. There was Scotty, but Kirk could hardly risk that either. If he tried to go himself, Spock would bring down a whole book of regulations on him. Still...

"Spock, show me how to work it," Kirk said.

"Regulation two `a', paragraph `a', subsection one `a'," Spock said. "No commander of a vessel shall, under any circumstances whatsoever, is to voluntarily and without due recourse-"

"I know what the book says," Kirk snapped. Chekov had turned in his seat as well.

"Still no answer to our hails," Uhura said.

Kirk gave her half an impatient glance. McCoy was waiting, silent and oddly defiant.

Kirk finally stood. "Doctor, go get ready. Spock, I'm piloting that shuttle. You're in command and your first and ONLY priority is this ship. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Spock replied.

---

McCoy took the co-pilot's seat in the Spirit, the generator in an enclosed metal case the size of a ring box at his feet. He didn't speak or even look at Kirk while the latter did a pre-flight check. As they cleared the hanger doors, Kirk finally broke the silence.

"I hope the damn cloaking device holds good."

"It's worked every time until now," McCoy replied, his voice low.

"Maintaining radio silence." Kirk shut down as many systems as he could and flew the shuttle clear of the Enterprise and out towards the Klingon Bird of Prey. "Are you going to turn that thing on?"

"It's already going."

They neared the Klingon ship. She was a huge ship, by any standards, but it wasn't until they were flying outside it's hull that the sheer dimensions engulfed them. The harsh breadth of it stunned the senses. She flew malignantly, facing the Enterprise, matching her movements inch by inch, breath by breath. It stirred deep feelings of anger in Kirk to have that monstrosity so near his starship.

"Fifteen hundred kilometres..." Kirk said. "Fourteen hundred...You ok?"

McCoy started, then turned. The blue eyes were startling, coming to focus as if he were returning from the fog of a daydream. "Sure. I'm fine."

Kirk eyed him a few moments more, then returned to the controls. "Twelve hundred...eleven hun---"

The sky thundered. To Kirk it felt like two cement bricks suddenly slammed both sides of his head. Then he was looking at his feet. He caught a blue blur of McCoy, arms flailing, before his head smacked the floor of the shuttle. Stars burst in his eyelids, a smell of burnt rubber gagged him, and suddenly he was in floating black and there was no sound at all.

---

Kirk opened his eyes. A dark moistness stung them. Wincing, he reached up and pulled a cloth off his brow. Then, in a blurry squint, he looked carefully around him.

He was still in the shuttle. The red emergency lights were on and the chairs seemed oddly tilted to his fuzzy balance. He made a move to rise but stopped as pain stabbed his head.

"Easy."

He tried to turn as McCoy came around in front of him. "Don't move." The doctor took a reading with his scanner, then hypo-ed something in Kirk's arm. "You got a bump on the back of your head and you cut your cheek. That bled like hell. I suspect a mild concussion."

Kirk tentatively rubbed a temple as the pain receded. "How are you?"

"You broke my fall," McCoy managed a shrug. Kirk heard a rumbling sound, deep as if from far away. "Jim, that ship just blew. I can't describe it."

"Where are we?"

"I managed to land us on an asteroid. We're cloaked. There's no atmosphere out there so don't open any doors."

"And the Enterprise?"

"I don't know." McCoy averted his eyes. His shirt was ripped and Kirk could see a purplish bruise starting on an arm. "I saw bits of the Klingon ship go by us. A piece tore one of the Spirit's landing pads. Then they started firing and the Enterprise retaliated, so I got us out of the way. But our damaged pad was leaking. A Klingon shuttle chased us." He paused as another rumble vibrated through the metal floor. "That's them, looking for us." He listened for a few seconds, then added. "I landed this thing in some sort of hollow and shut the engines down." He shook his head at the sound of another blast. "They've been doing that for nearly an hour, hoping to stir us up. A couple of times I thought they'd actually hit us."

Kirk listened to the sounds of phaser blast for a few moments, then nodded. "I'd say they're a couple of kilometres out." He studied the doctor. "You're hurt."

McCoy shook his head. "It's nothing."

Kirk raised himself up, then put both feet on the floor and stood. He reeled a bit, but it passed and he could walk to the front of the shuttle.

The console has sustained little damage though the rest of the shuttle looked as though a fierce wind had battened through it. He tried a few systems, then relaxed when they came on-line.

"This isn't too bad. We could probably lift-off when our friends leave."

McCoy straightened his chair, then sat, wincing as he did so. With his foot, he gently kicked the box that held the generator. "Goddamn thing."

"Is it off?" Kirk asked.

The doctor nodded.

"Don't kick it anyway."

"Jim, they couldn't have had any warning. What we did...what I did...there must have been deaths."

"They started it, Bones." Kirk tested a few more systems, then sat back in his chair. "Spock's probably tracked us. If he's followed orders, he has a brig full of Klingons and one damaged bird of prey in tow. When it quiets, we'll decloak and fly out." He touched his cheek. His fingertips came away bloodied.

"Here."

McCoy tossed a gauze pad to him. His face looked gaunt in the faint starlight and red lighting.

Kirk glanced once more at the generator. "Are you sure it's off?"

The doctor shrugged. "I disconnected the power source."

"You did, eh?"

McCoy frowned at Kirk's tone. "What does that mean?"

"At the briefing with Sulu and Tyne, you swore up and down you didn't know a thing about it."

"It doesn't take an engineer to take out a battery and I don't care for your insinuation."

"The day after V'Rhsal came on board, I got Spock to ask him to reproduce the plant model and the generator. Do you know what your partner said?"

At McCoy's scowl, the captain said, "He said only you would be able to do so." He shifted, painfully stretching his legs out. "However, Tyne told me that even getting you drunk hadn't worked. She believed that you couldn't duplicate your own work and I believed her. She and Sulu have been trying to do it."

"It'll never work. What V'Rhsal and I did was just a fluke."

"Hardly a fluke," Kirk said. "The Klingons seem to be growing a garden-full."

"If I could have done this any easier, don't you think I would have instead of risking my ass in this damn shuttle?" McCoy glared. "And what the hell is that jerk talking about, saying that I could do it again?"

"Can't you tell me? You're linked with him."

McCoy glowered at Kirk. "You don't understand."

"Then TELL me! That's all I want."

The doctor looked furious. His tone was cutting. "Ok, Captain. Spock didn't track us, but he didn't have to. V'Rhsal knows exactly where we are. Unfortunately, they can't come get us because your Vulcan has neither Klingons in the brig nor Klingons in tow. The Enterprise was damaged by the explosion. Her shields are down and she can't fight back." As he stood, a burst of thunder reverberated through the shuttle, dimming the lights. "They're coming back." He left Kirk sitting alone at the front of the shuttle.

PART TWENTY SEVEN

The blasting stopped so quietly that it took Kirk a few minutes to realize that it was truly over. McCoy returned to the front of the shuttle as Kirk checked a few systems. But when he went to start the Spirit, the doctor shook his head.

"Don't. They're still there."

"They'd be pretty low on fuel by now." Kirk was irritated and sick with worry. His voice could also be cutting. The doctor, however, simply took a seat.

"What's going on now?" Kirk asked.

McCoy didn't look at him. "The Enterprise doesn't have warp drive. Apparently neither do the Klingons. Shields still down. She's just out of firing range of the Klingon ship."

Kirk softened his tone. "That's pretty handy, but it's making you a little green."

"If by that you mean I look sick, I can believe it," McCoy swallowed.

"Then I'll spare you the one about growing pointed ears." Kirk glanced through the port but the sky was unrevealing. "Bones, could you get a message to Spock through V'Rhsal? Does it work like that?"

"I can try."

"Tell him to get my ship the hell out of there."

McCoy was quiet for so long that Kirk glanced over uneasily. When the doctor opened his eyes, he did look green. "Spock says he'll do the logical thing."

"Damn him..." Kirk whispered. He stared out the port for a few minutes, then stood. "I suppose I'd better see what there is for rations. Want anything?"

"No."

"Sure? Not even reconstituted coffee?"

McCoy shook his head.

Kirk eyed him, troubled, before checking the stores. When he returned with two cups, he said, "I hate this waiting. It's all I ever seem to do." After a while, when McCoy still hadn't touched his cup, Kirk said, "Come on, Bones. What is it?"

The doctor stared out the window. "Have you ever done something you never imagined you could, an act so remote from what you thought you were that it just blows your whole sense of self out a porthole?"

"Are you referring to the mind meld?"

"No."

Kirk grinned. "Is this about Dr. Misu?"

"Jim, be serious."

Kirk sipped his coffee. McCoy didn't often open up and this was a rare opportunity. Carefully, he said, "An extended link with a Vulcan is the last thing any human would willingly do and you're the last human I thought would do it."

The doctor finally reached for his cup, his movements stiff and strained. "I told you it's not about the meld. I'm talking about when you do something where no one compels you, a decision you make on your own that astounds you afterwards."

"I understand," Kirk said quietly. "Sometimes, I look back and see things I've done and I'm shaken right through. Yet I would do the same again."

"That's not very comforting."

"Bones, you hold so much back, no one can comfort you."

A distant rumble vibrated through the shuttle. "Damn. They're back."

"I wish we had weapons," Kirk looked up as the ceiling shivered. "They know we're here. They're not going to give up. Spock, damnit. Get that ship back on line!"

---

McCoy, wide awake, wrapped himself in a sleeping bag and curled up near the back window. Kirk had fallen into an uneasy sleep some time ago and he envied it. What moved between him and V'Rhsal now throbbed heavily. Underneath the constant awareness of the Enterprise, and the worry, was an almost pleasurable ache. What have you done, Doctor? And a voice said, I slept with a man. Is this what I put women through all these years? But it wasn't the same. It was strange to call it physical for they had hardly moved. But the mental intimacy, the running of thoughts together like streams of water, the touching of nerve and fibre, that was the true meaning of sensation, of laying bare every last cell, every last strand quivering with cerebral pleasure. He had physically craved it. At the bottom of it, he discovered this morning that he had never known anything about love or lovemaking. And, at the bottom of it, he discovered that they knew how to touch in all the right places.

'I am honoured that you have permitted me a fulfilment of the bonding.' Then, damnit, he'd got up and started making plans for finding a wife, just when McCoy was opening his mouth to say, I love you.

Something nudged his mind. He stood, on legs half-asleep, and walked over to Kirk's chair.

"Jim, wake up."

Kirk bolted awake, hazel eyes instantly alert.

"What is it?"

"The Romulans have just arrived."

"Damn!" Kirk threw off his blanket and leaned over the console. "Strap in."

"We're not going up there now?" McCoy started but the Spirit was already coming alive, her engines pulsating.

"That's my ship." Kirk did a quick pre-check. "How is she by the way?"

"Warp still out. Shields and weapons back up."

Kirk half-grinned. "That's handy."

"Why don't you try it sometime?" McCoy grumbled as he buckled into the co-pilot's seat.

"I'm not crazy."

McCoy's stomach lurched as the shuttle lifted off and flew clear into space. The box that held the generator slid under his seat.

"Secure that," Kirk said.

As McCoy groped under the seat, the captain checked the scanners.

"There are three ships out there."

"I told you," the doctor said. Then he happened to look up. "Oh Jim..."

Battle-wounds scarred the Enterprise. A blackish streak curled over one of her pylons and continued up around the nacelle. Another one ran the length of the hanger doors. Worse, however, was the sight of the Klingon ship, poised between the Enterprise and the Spirit, her hull pock-marked from the explosion. As the Spirit neared, the Romulan scout came into view, situated as if at the third point of a triangle, her red, sleek lines a bitter contrast to the battle-pitted ships across from her.

Kirk launched the Spirit towards the Enterprise, increasing speed. McCoy, alarmed, said, "Jim, this isn't a square dance! You can't just barge in!"

"Ssh!" Kirk opened a radio frequency. "Enterprise."

"This is Captain Spock. Spirit, you are in a dangerous position. Advise you leave the area."

"I advise you let us in."

McCoy eyed the Romulan and Klingon ships as they neared, expecting to find phaser bolts ready to slice the shuttle open. Then a curious thing happened. As they neared the Klingon ship, she swung away, clearing the path.

"What are they doing? Looking for a better spot to shoot us from?" McCoy asked.

Kirk frowned. "Maybe they've put it all together - shuttle, plant, explosion." He kicked the Spirit into overdrive and barrelled towards the Enterprise. Suddenly he was looking at his feet again. The Spirit vibrated horrifically as a loud bang rocked her.

McCoy latched onto his seat as Kirk slammed into the controls. The Spirit spun, then slowly stablized.

"We did it to them again," McCoy said. But as the words came out, the Klingon ship came into view and nothing on her had changed. The hull was no worse and she was still moving slowly away.

A booming noise rolled through the shuttle. She rattled violently and, suddenly, the Enterprise was moving away from them.

"What the hell is that Vulcan doing?" McCoy demanded.

"Tractor beam," Kirk said.

"He's supposed to bring us IN!"

"From the Klingons!" Kirk engaged the Spirit's engines, running them until they squealed loudly. Smoke rolled out across the floor. Finally, glumly, Kirk leaned back in his chair. "They tracked us when I opened the frequency. I guess we're going out to dinner tonight."

The Bird of Prey engulfed their tiny viewscreen as the shuttle was dragged towards a lighted, open hatch in the belly of the great hulk.

"Only phasers....damn..." Kirk mumbled, looking around the shuttle. "Nothing to jury-rig."

They bumped down. Another shake indicated the tractor has loosened. >From outside the Spirit came footsteps, then voices.

McCoy stiffened. "That's not Klingon."

Kirk glanced over. "I don't hear---"

"They're not speaking Klingon. It's---"

The hatch opened and a massive shape filled the doorway. As the shape bent to enter, the light touched pale skin and elegant, pointed ears.

PART TWENTY EIGHT

Romulans do not escort. They carry. Kirk and McCoy were hauled to the small, dim bridge of the Klingon ship and dropped roughly at the feet of a very tall, smirking Romulan.

"Captain James T. Kirk. How strange to find you in a little shuttle. I didn't think you ever left the bridge of your ship."

Kirk looked carefully around him. The bridge was manned by five other Romulans but a single Klingon male was strapped in a chair by the viewscreen. He returned Kirk's look silently and sullenly.

"You may stand if you wish, Captain Kirk, unless you truly prefer laying on the floor."

As Kirk brought a knee under him, something crackled. Scattered brown leaves lay over the floor and the end of a tendril lay coiled around the base of the centre chair. He looked at the debris curiously.

"Nice of you to come to us," the Romulan said. "We've been looking for you for quite a while. We almost had hopes that you'd crashed on impact."

Kirk stood and said quietly, "If my officer and I are hostages, then you have committed an act of war, Commander."

"Centurion T'svak," the Romulan corrected, but his voice was more thoughtful. He studied the doctor carefully. "I believe I've seen your face somewhere."

McCoy tore his gaze away from the plant debris but remained silent.

T'svak reached into his pocket and pulled out something which crinkled as he unwrapped it. Putting his face up close to the doctor, he said, "I've discovered the Klingons have this very interesting thing on board. Would you care to sample it?" He suddenly thrust a brown object under McCoy's nose. McCoy, startled, jumped back.

T'svak chuckled, then put the object in his mouth. "I believe it's called chocolate. Klingons hold it in great value since they've only been able to get it by raiding Federation ships. Eating this is their one true claim of civilization."

"Centurion," Kirk said, "I trust you have some reason for bringing us on board."

"Obviously," T'svak said casually but his eyes were still on McCoy. Then, slowly, he smiled. "Of course. Now I know you. Here I was believing I would have to rely on information second-hand. By the goddess, here in front of me is the source of it all. I do know you. Dr. Leonard McCoy, of the now famous partnership of McCoy and V'Rhsal, the creators of this new secret weapon which the Klingons have so blatantly been using on defenceless, little Romulan outposts."

"I'm a physician, not a weapons designer. And Vulcans don't..."

"Vulcans do," T'svak said. "They do indeed. Tell me, Doctor, where is this fantastic new weapon of yours?"

Dryly, McCoy replied, "You're standing in it."

The Romulan took another bite of the chocolate bar, then strode up to the centre chair. It crinkled under him as he sat.

"I have little patience, doctor. This weapon of yours has caused many deaths."

"I know there have been deaths," McCoy said softly. "But there isn't a weapon, just a---." His voice was cut off by a disrupter in his throat. Kirk made a move, then saw the weapons were set to kill.

"Let's try that again," T'svak said.

McCoy, angrily, said, "It's a plant, the plant you're sitting in! It stores energy."

"I'd better report this right away," T'svak said. "The Federation grows plants that can blow up embassies. And I suppose you also have trees that launch missiles and small animals that can take out satellites."

"Why don't you ask the Klingon if you don't believe us?" Kirk said.

T'svak unwrapped another chocolate. "You're slow, Captain Kirk. I see you've never heard how to have the last word with a Klingon." He nodded at a guard. Immediately the Klingon was rammed back in his chair and his mouth forced open. Several of his teeth were missing and behind them, oozing purplish blood, was a mangled shred of tissue where the tongue should have been.

---

Kirk tested the forcefield at the exit of the Klingon brig, then rubbed his hand gingerly. "I have to admit, Klingons build efficient prison cells."

McCoy, sitting on the end of the one bunk in the small, grey room, said tiredly, "It may be efficient but they could have at least put in a bathroom."

Kirk's mind was still on the forcefield. "Perhaps if we used something metal. McCoy, get in touch with Spock and..."

"I can't."

Kirk turned around. "You did it before, Bones."

"I'm sorry," McCoy said as he leaned back against the wall. "It takes a lot of concentration and V'Rhsal has to do most of it. I've tried but he's not there." He closed his eyes. "We've been here over thirteen hours and Spock's yet to fire a warning shot. I knew he wanted your command all along."

Kirk stood on the bunk and checked the ceiling panels. "If the Romulans prove to Organian satisfaction that we developed a weapon, then they're not violating any treaty by holding us for questioning. Spock can't act." He finally sat down on the bunk as well and gave McCoy a strange look. "And if you know Spock hasn't used the phasers, obviously you're in touch with V'Rhsal at some level."

McCoy didn't answer.

"I wish Spock were here. He's great at breaking jail." Kirk's eyes roamed over the cell for the hundredth time. "I don't understand why we've been left here for so long."

"I don't understand why we haven't seen any other Klingons," McCoy said. "I looked in the other cells as we were passing and we seem to be the only occupants down here."

"The peace bond has been broken between the Romulan and Klingon Empires. Under Interstellar treaty, the Romulans have the right to seize the Klingon ship. Maybe the Klingons are on the scout."

"I hope so. That chocolate-eating, son-of-a-creepworm seems particularly bloodthirsty."

The Captain glanced at McCoy. The doctor looked white with fatigue.

"Bones..."

There was a long silence. Finally McCoy said, "The talks at Station C-6 have failed. Spock's been in touch with T'svak twice to warn him about the plant. T'svak still maintains that we've fabricated a story about an exploding bush as a cover for a new weapon. He also denies finding any evidence of the plant at all despite the fact that he's sitting in it and Spock can see it during visual transmission."

He opened his eyes to find Kirk looking half-amused, half-awed.

"I hope it blows up right under his ass," Kirk said.

"Oh, and he's still eating candy. Spock interprets that as a gesture of rudeness."

Kirk leaned back against the wall but his gaze was still on the doctor. "Once, only once, Spock and I melded for an extended period. It was when we boarded the Romulan ship to steal the cloaking device and he suggested it as a safety device, to keep us in touch. After a day I found I had a vague awareness of where he was. It never went further than that. But you're repeating things to me almost word for word."

McCoy looked away. "I suspect that Spock has, considerately, never really melded. The difference between what he's done and this is like the difference between a pushpin and a yardspike."

The forcefield quivered then disappeared. T'svak stood in the doorway.

"Did you sleep well?"

When he didn't get an answer, he smiled. "I suppose not, with only one bunk. Still, it's warm in here. No rodents. Doctor McCoy, I've come to ask you once more about your latest creation and I don't want to hear any more lies about leaves that blow up."

Kirk stood. "We've offered you the truth. The evidence is on this ship. You have no right to hold us."

"Captain, you will be escorted back to your shuttle within the hour. However I do have a right to hold the doctor. The Romulan Empire has issued a warrant for him and the Vulcan on charges of conspiracy, illegal weapons distribution, complicity, and sabotage. I have been ordered to take the doctor to intergalactic court where we will file for extradition papers to remove him to Romulan jurisdiction. By the way, doctor, where is your partner? On Vulcan?"

"I'd like to see this warrant," Kirk demanded.

"We'd all like a great many things, Captain. Unfortunately, we don't often get them." T'svak gestured behind him. Two guards entered the cell. "Return Captain Kirk to his shuttle and make sure he returns to open space. Dr. McCoy will be returning with us to our ship."

"Under intergalactic treaty, I am to be assured of the validity of the warrant."

T'svak shrugged. "You are not on the starship, Kirk. The warrant was shown to Captain Spock."

"AND I have the option of taking my own personnel to intergalactic court!" Kirk continued.

"Since said personnel is already on my ship, you don't have the option of demanding him back."

Kirk, furious, took a deep breath. "This isn't your ship."

"Legally, when I seize a ship, I have the right to hold any and all on it."

"Federation personnel with outstanding warrants can have a Starfleet guard accompaniment."

"An accompaniment which I can deny," T'svak said. "Give it up, Captain."

Kirk glanced at McCoy. The doctor, in a soft tone, said, "He's lying, Jim."

T'svak raised his voice. "Take Kirk!"

"Wait!" Kirk barked back, grabbing McCoy's arm. "Bones..."

"Spock hasn't agreed to this. That's why we've been in here so long."

"He doesn't have to agree to it, Doctor. It's the law," T'svak said.

"Spock has a problem with the warrant," McCoy started but Kirk was hauled away by the Romulan guards.

"The only problem is between that Vulcan's ears," T'svak retorted as he stepped out of the cell. Kirk's last view of McCoy was a backward glance before the forcefield shimmered into the doorway.

"I had better get a look at that warrant now!" Kirk ordered. "Or I will be incredibly less-restrained that Captain Spock when I return to my bridge."

T'svak shoved Kirk through a hatchway into the shuttle bays, then opened the Spirit and pushed him up the plank.

"You'll find the cloaking device has been disassembled but we did fix the stabilizer. Have a safe trip, Captain."

The hatch was thrown closed, then jammed from the outside. Kirk struggled with it for a few minutes, then stilled as the hiss of the atmospheric depressurizers sounded.

"Damn!" He sat in the pilot's chair, going over his options. The intercom crackled and T'svak's voice came over the line.

"Captain, the hatch doors may not remain open for too much longer and, with all the damage to this poor Klingon ship, I may not be able to return atmosphere to the hanger deck."

Kirk started the Spirit and flew her, angrily, out the hanger doors. He had no real wish to return to the Enterprise but he'd barely cleared the Bird of Prey when a tractor beam grabbed him and repelled him roughly towards the Enterprise.

"This has barely started, T'svak," he muttered, leaning toward the intercom. Static answered him.

By the time he landed the Spirit and got to the bridge, he'd formulated seven plans of attack. Unfortunately, none of them were legal.

Spock rose from the command chair as Kirk entered. "McCoy's still over there." Kirk told him. "If he'd known V'Rhsal was on board, I probably would have been held for an exchange."

"Centurion T'svak has not yet transmitted a copy of the warrant," Spock said. "The transporter room has a fix on Doctor McCoy but we cannot beam him in while the Klingon shields are in operation."

"How are we?"

"We sustained relative damage from the explosion. All systems are now back on line, including warp drive." Spock returned to his science station. "We have been scanning the Romulan scoutship. Due to the inclement relative sizes of it and the Bird of Prey, I suspect T'svak deemed it imperative to board with as many of his crew as possible. One life form remains on the scoutship. Regular crew complement is ten to twelve."

Kirk eyed the viewscreen. "This presents possibilities."

Spock continued. "Twelve minutes after the Romulans boarded the Klingon ship, there was further transporter activity back to the scoutship. However, the life form reading did not change. I assumed that T'svak had found the plant, or what remained of it, and beamed it to his ship. I contacted him to warn him of the danger. Illogically, he denied knowledge of the plant."

"That's the logic of war," Kirk said.

"Captain, we are not at war."

"T'svak is."

Spock considered for a moment. "He is treading a fine legal line but he has not entirely stepped over it."

"Transporter activity, Captain," Sulu said.

"Confirmed," Spock said. "It is coming from the Klingon ship. Their shields are lowering."

Uhura opened a line to the transporter room. "Mr. Kyle, stand by please."

"Do you have a fix on McCoy?" Kirk asked.

"Yes," Spock bent over his scanner. "Their shields are down."

"Now, Kyle," Uhura said.

There was a tense moment. Finally Kyle's voice came over the intercom. "I'm sorry, Uhura. I couldn't pull him out of their transporter beam."

"Reading seven life forms on the Romulan scoutship," Spock said. "One human. Screens are up. They have a tractor beam on the Klingon ship. I read engine activity."

"Impulse only," Sulu said.

"Course?"

Sulu bent over the helm. "Seven three six mark two. They're headed towards the neutral zone."

"Match Enterprise speed and direction with them."

"Aye, Captain."

Kirk glanced at Uhura. "Lieutenant, send a tight-beam transmission to Organia. Include the past two days logs and ask them for an emergency grievance hearing. Refer to Dr. McCoy as a hostage."

"Right away, sir."

Kirk hesitated, eyeing the viewscreen. Then he got up and went up to the science station. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, "Spock, what are the odds that T'svak did transport the plant to his ship?"

"Considering Romulan intelligence, known search methods, and mode of operations, I would estimate eighty three percent."

"The generator isn't in the Spirit. McCoy has it." Kirk glanced once more at the viewscreen. "Where's V'Rhsal? He's got to warn Bones."

"Kór V'Rhsal is in engineering with Mr. Scott."

"Get hold of him." Kirk walked over to Uhura's station. "Lieutenant, open a channel to the Romulan ship please."

"It's open, sir."

"Centurion T'svak. This is Captain James Kirk of the Federation Starship Enterprise. If you do not transmit a copy of the warrant for my officer, Dr. Leonard McCoy, within the next minute, I will be forced to take measures. Respond."

There was no answer.

"I know they received the transmission," Uhura said.

Kirk returned to his command chair. "Yellow alert, Mr. Sulu. Phasers at quarter strength. Put a shot in their path."

"On your command, Captain," Sulu said.

"Now."

The phaser bolts flew across the scoutship's nose. She continued on her way steadily.

"Nudge them, Mr. Sulu."

The scoutship rocked under the phaser fire.

"She's stopped," Sulu said. "They're powering up their phaser banks."

Kirk nodded at Uhura, then spoke. "T'svak, I wouldn't advise it. You'd better hurry up with that warrant."

"Transmission coming in, Captain," Uhura said. "Audio only to hard copy."

"Let's see it," Kirk said.

Spock pulled the tape from Uhura's board and relayed it through his station. "It is the warrant, Captain." He paused, studying his scanner. "It does appear legal."

"Damn," Kirk swore quietly.

"They've resumed course and speed," Sulu said. "Sixteen point five hours to neutral zone."

Spock turned. "Captain, if the warrant was indeed authorized, Centurion T'svak had no reason to withhold it. Advise confirmation of the court signatures."

"Go ahead." Kirk rubbed his eyes, then returned to the science station. "Let's see it, Spock."

As the Vulcan scrolled through the legalese-ramblings of the warrant, Kirk's anger got deeper. "How can they accuse him if they haven't got evidence of a weapon?"

"They have evidence of what it does," Spock started but Kirk had suddenly straightened.

"Captain?"

Kirk, smiling, turned to Uhura. "Lieutenant, tell Sub-Centurion T'svak that if he does not hold position, I'll be forced to blow him out of the sky."

"In those words, sir?" she asked, grinning.

"Well, in your own." Kirk crossed the deck. "Sulu, full power to phasers."

PART TWENTY NINE

T'svak came on screen a moment later, looking angry. "Captain, what IS the problem now?"

"It's this way, T'svak. If I had such an officer as Dr. John Leonardo McCoy, I would certainly deliver him into your sweet hands."

"A misspelling does not negate the integrity of the warrant, Kirk!"

"No, but you do need to wait for a corrected one to be issued. In the meantime, why don't we just hang around this part of space? It'll give you a chance to hoard the rest of the chocolate from the Klingon ship."

T'svak shut off the transmission. Kirk turned to Sulu. "Bring weapons to bear on the scoutship. If they so much as twitch, go across their bow again."

"Yes, sir."

As Kirk started for the turbo lift, he added, "Spock, you have the con. I'll be in engineering. If we get any word from Organia, let me know."

---

McCoy sat on the edge of a chair, scowling. T'svak's guards had dumped him into this cabin over two hours ago, then left without a word. Actually, they'd shoved him through the doorway. He caught his hand on the desk which delayed his rushing back to the door only to find that they'd locked it. His arm, cut deep, had bled heavily for nearly ten minutes and still oozed now. Out of protest, he let it run on the white carpeting and, as he watched, another red drop ran over his wrist and fell, silently, into a growing stain by his feet.

He glanced around. The cabin was actually very nice, probably officer's quarters. A long desk faced a wall of ornate shelving on which were a few plants and a long, garish sword. A computer terminal sat on a smaller desk and behind him, in a darkened, inner room, was a large, swelling bed covered in a pink and grey comforter. The bathroom was also rather elaborate with a tub that could fit two and tiled mirrors on the wall.

He'd turned on the computer earlier but soon gave up in frustration at the Romulan symbols on the screen. The intercom didn't seem to work, or else they were ignoring him. The door wouldn't budge.

Why they'd left him alone in such a fancy cabin, he couldn't fathom. The brig and an unpleasant interrogation session was more in line though, at this point, he still hadn't ruled it out.

The door chimed. McCoy, surprised, eyed it for a few moments before saying hesitantly, "Come in."

The door opened to reveal a large orang-utan of a guard. "Time to eat, Human."

He stepped back and a slight, long-haired Romulan woman entered with a tray. She smiled at him as she set it down on one of the desks. "Are you hungry?"

"No."

"I thought you might be by now. Look at you!"

He pulled back at her sudden exclamation, and followed her gaze down to his hand. "Sorry. I bled on your carpet."

She disappeared in the bathroom, then returned with a basin of water. Kneeling in front of him, she wet a cloth and pressed it against his wrist. "Did the guards do this?"

"No, the desk."

"Hmm." She inspected the wound. "It should be closed. I will have you escorted to our sick lab."

McCoy resisted pulling back from her touch. "If you don't mind, who are you?"

"Arhal." She looked at him and smiled again. "What is your first name? John or Leonard?"

"John."

She shook her head. "It does not suit you." She was still rubbing his wrist with gentle pressure. "John Leonard David McCoy, M.D. was the name on the warrant. But your Captain did call you...Bones."

"He's funny that way. He has this thing about names."

Arhal stood then pulled out a chair for herself. "I should tell you. You are on the Romulan Scoutship Nehaàn and we are currently holding position in Olvad's Cradle, sector three. The Enterprise, forced to recognize intergalactic treaty by the Organians, left the area a few minutes ago. We will be here another three days while we await a Romulan contingent."

"So I'm an official hostage now," McCoy muttered.

"Don't blame your Captain. He has to give way under the laws." Arhal picked up a plate. "Try some. I do not want you ill."

"I'm not hungry," McCoy replied, softening his tone.

"What may I call you? Bones?"

"If you want."

Arhal leaned forward and laid a hand on his unhurt arm. "I will tell you why you are here."

"To be tortured miserably before death?"

"Romulans do not torture. It is not our way." She pulled at a rip on his sleeve. "You are bruised here too, on this arm. But it is older. Did your Captain do this to you earlier?"

McCoy eyed her, not replying. Finally she pulled back. "I will have to find some more comfortable clothing for you. Bones, you and the Vulcan, Engineer V'Rhsal, have created a weapon which was delivered to the Klingons. If you had made this weapon and kept it on your own planet, it would not matter."

"I didn't create a weapon nor did I deliver any weapons to any Klingons."

Arhal met his eyes. Hers were vivid green and reflected like a cat's in the cabin lighting. "I believe you did not intentionally create a weapon but the results of your work are clearly destructive. Your Captain has said that your work was stolen from Vulcan. This I also believe. But the work was taken and used on Romulan outposts. The Romulan Empire has issued a warrant for your arrest. You will not be trailed in a court but it is our right to have you duplicate your work in our labs." She stood. "In the meanwhile, I can give you comfortable living quarters. Our physician will affix a transponder in your arm. This will allow you the freedom of the ship's halls without constant guard. I advise you, though, to stand clear of any restricted areas. You have been on Romulan ships on the past so I assume you know what a restricted sign looks like."

"Arhal," McCoy stood as well and looked down at her. "Just what is your position on this ship?"

"I am a visitor," she admitted. "My ship will soon be here."

"Your ship or the ship you serve on?"

She smiled again, a smaller, warmer grin. "I am Commander Arhal and my vessel is the Flag Ship Rhiannsu-Traal. I gave up these quarters on this ship for you and that is no small honour, Bones. I trust you will be appreciative enough to reward me by your work in the lab."

McCoy rubbed his wrist. "Commander, I would be happier in your brig."

"You are a gallant liar, Bones."

"And I don't want your physician to put anything in me anywhere."

"Don't push me or he may put the transponder somewhere other than your arm."

McCoy sighed. "The big thing is, it took both me and the Vulcan to do what we did. I'm not sure if I can recreate it on my own."

"Unless you wish me to deliver you to Romulan High Council, you will try. Eat now, Bones. In fifteen minutes you will be taken to sick labs." She left, her lithe form moving lightly through the doorway. McCoy sat down glumly as the door shut. He knew, thanks to the link, that she was also a gallant liar. However, the Romulans were no idle threat when they could well take what they felt equitable from his own mind. His work had been used, somehow, as a weapon. The Romulans had the right to demand he share it with them.

He scratched at his face. His mouth felt gummy.

"What the hell did she leave?" he said to himself, pulling the tray to him. There was some kind of purplish meat, yellow tubular vegetables, and an assortment of red leafy things. But it smelled all right and finally, in resignation, he ate it.

---

The physician was a dark, brooding Romulan who didn't say a word to him. He fixed up McCoy's hand, checked him over quickly, then injected the transponder. Arhal stood by the whole time, watching the board, her face unreadable. When he was allowed to stand, she motioned the guards away and said, "That was not so bad, Bones."

"No animal likes to be tagged," he retorted, but the gruffness in his voice surprised even him.

"Come to the lab." She strode out of the room and he followed quickly. The corridors were smaller than on the Enterprise but deserted and they were able to descend the levels quickly.

"I have accommodated a computer in standard for you. The intercom is connected to my room and you will inform me of your needs for equipment and supplies. You will make these requests to no other but me."

"And T'svak?"

"Has no choice," she shrugged, "though he would rather be overseeing you himself."

"I thought he was a centurion."

She laughed. "In his dreams." She stepped into the middle of the lab. "You may decide your own rest and work periods however, the more quickly you provide a working model of the weapon, the sooner you will return to your ship. If anyone enters this lab excepting myself, you will immediately inform me." She walked around the room. "Is there anything you immediately require?"

"I have no guarantee that you will return me to my ship, even if I manage to recreate this work by myself."

"You do. I have said it is so." Arhal came up to him. "A Romulan's word is as good as a Vulcan's. We both hold honour highly. Now tell me what you require to begin work."

"On the Klingon bridge, I noticed organic debris, specifically leaves."

"Bones, I find it difficult to see a plant responsible for the destruction on the Klingon ship."

"If your scientists had studied the make up of those leaves, you would see the possibility." He studied her, looking for a reaction, and was rewarded with a frown. The Romulans would have studied the leaves despite any claims to the contrary.

"I need that debris," he added.

"It will be delivered." Arhal left.

PART THRITY

McCoy worked the rest of that day. Arhal, herself, delivered the meals and he saw no one else. This was a military secret and he could understand her caution. But, he thought angrily, it was wasted caution. He could no more grow another plant than he could grow another leg. For her sake, he kept busy. When she delivered the leaves, he forced himself to focus on them.

"The chemical structure of the plant has been modified," McCoy said. "My original design comprised Vulcan organics but the atomic relationship has been in a way I don't recognize. I believe the Klingons enhanced the energy-storing capacity of the plant tissue on their own initiative."

Arhal was silent. When he finally looked over to her, he found her eyes were studying him thoughtfully. "Bones, those leaves do not store enough energy to toast a tuber."

"Put enough of them together and they'll toast a ship's hull."

"How many leaves would that require?"

McCoy hesitated, then admitted, "The plant the Enterprise first found on a Klingon ship was over nineteen kilometres long."

"Can you grow a plant from these leaves?"

"I don't think so," he said. "I need the stamen part of the stem in order to reproduce it. If I had, say, more of the plant."

"There is no more on the Klingon ship."

"You mean, there isn't any more there now," McCoy said softly, looking steadily into the green eyes. When she didn't answer, he continued, "Arhal, I can demonstrate, even with the few leaves here, that they were altered with something that does not grow on Vulcan. I can also attest, and the Vulcan Science Academy can witness, that the plant the V'Rhsal and I grew was based on a model of a brain stem and was designed for no other purpose than straight medical research. We had no intent to create weaponry and that's obvious by the fact that we kept the damn thing in the basement of his house and we both slept there with it. Once the Organians are made aware of these facts, I have no doubt that they will order my immediate return to the Enterprise."

Arhal didn't back down. "Bones, why were you and your Captain out in a shuttle?"

He blinked. "It was the Captain's idea, but it had nothing to do with the plant. He had a plan and it failed."

"Oh?" She cocked an eyebrow at him. "I believe that the Klingons had the weapon, whatever it may be, but not the detonator. I think that you and the Captain carried that detonator on the shuttle, therefore, it was something with a limited range. A detonator implies a fuse and implies that you were treating something on the Klingon ship as a weapon and not as stolen medical research."

"Once the Klingons modified it, we sure as hell treated it as something dangerous but---"

"Bones, when we searched the shuttle, we did not find any evidence of a detonator. I assumed that you and the Captain had jettisoned it on that asteroid. That may also be what the Organians assume." She stroked his arm as if she was petting a dog. Her tone was commanding. "Bones, you will be with me for some time."

"Then you're going to have to get me a stem."

"If I can find one."

"It shouldn't be that hard. You can start by looking on this ship."

She suddenly laughed. "You may be human but you have a backbone."

She did not return with anymore of the plant that evening and, finally, he gave up his fruitless puttering and walked out to the hallway. A Romulan in a doorway eyed him but did not return his greeting. On the plus side, neither did the guard follow him. An announcement sounded over the intercom in Romulan, which he didn't understand. Static drowned out half of it and even the engines sounded alien.

McCoy walked up the levels to his room, passing no one else. A bottle of Romulan ale and a glass had been left on a desk but there was no other sign of entry.

"Of all damn things," he mumbled. He wasn't sure if, despite the transponder, he was under surveillance, but if he was...

He uncorked the decanter and drank out of it, ignoring the glass. Then he lay down on top of the covers in the bed. It was hot in the room, almost stifling and he wondered if Romulus had the same climate as Vulcan. That awful, awful heat, just pressing down on you. It was a wonder he hadn't got heat stroke.

He rolled onto his stomach, felt the sweat itch under him, but more than that he felt restless and heavy. Uneasiness had been gnawing at him all day. He didn't know if it was coming from him or from somewhere else.

Closing his eyes, he reached inward.

v'hrsal...

ike trying to listen through the staticky intercom, he could barely find the Vulcan.

damnit, don't leave me like this!

Electric shocks, then...

leonard.

Like a gust of hot air, he recoiled.

what's going on?

the organians have not yet responded. we are waiting.

do you know what they want me to do?

i know.

i can't.

try.

v'rhsal, i feel very strange. my hands are shaking. when i try to focus on things, it seems like they're moving. i feel like...you won't understand, but i want to rip their pointed ears off their heads with my bare hands.

give them what they desire, then return to me.

i can't recreate the model. they're not going to believe it's a plant anyway.

we will do it together.

McCoy took a deep breath and hugged his face into the pillow.

---

He was throwing up when he heard the sound of the door. A moment later, Arhal's voice came from behind his back.

"Too much ale, Bones?"

Fearing it would only make him gag more, he refrained from retorting to her humorous tone. She wet a cloth, then wiped his forehead. "Perhaps a strong coffee will settle your stomach. I have some that did not come from the ship's reconstitutor."

McCoy pulled back from her curiously cool touch and managed a single word. "Why?"

She laughed. "Human, you are dense. You give me that weapon. My empire gives me a fleet!"

He swallowed. "I've told you what it is. If you'll just let me prove it to you."

"Tell me, Bones. What did you and your Captain carry out in that shuttle?"

"We carried us."

"And?"

"Just us. We were hoping to retrieve the plant." A spasm of pain ran over him. He bore it out with an expressionless face, hoping he was hiding it from her.

Arhal's steady look ran over him. "Bones, I'm going to ask you again and before you answer, consider this. There is more than one on this ship who wouldn't mind watching an accident happen to you. I'm all that stands in their way." She stepped back. "What was in the shuttle?"

"The detonator."

"Good. Make me one."

"I can't. I'm not an engineer."

"But you designed it."

"No, he did."

"He who? The Vulcan?"

"Yes, the Vulcan. I'm just a doctor. I keep telling you."

"What kind of a detonator was it? Chemical? Electrical? Plasmic?"

"Electrical, of a sort. It's use forced breaches of energy pockets in the plant."

At her silence, he said, "Arhal, if you want proof, you're going to have to give me that plant you took from the Klingon ship. If you don't, I warn you that I am just going to spend my time walking around this ship until an accident does happen." He looked her in the eye. "I do know what security areas look like so, believe me, I know where to walk."

PART THIRTY ONE

"He wants to what?" Kirk demanded angrily.

Spock ignored the outburst. "Kór V'Rhsal wishes to abide by intergalactic treaty and transport to the Romulan ship."

"I can't allow it. He's a civilian."

"Under Vulcan law, he is within his right."

"No way, Spock. It's bad enough they have McCoy. If they even guessed V'Rhsal was out here, they'd be shooting the hulls off us. I may not like him much but his safety is my responsibility."

Spock clasped his hands behind his back. "The Romulans want information. Dr. McCoy cannot provide it to them on his own and we cannot wait on the Organians."

"McCoy's hardly on his own there. He's linked with that Vulcan. He could have provided schematics long ago and he's got the generator in his pocket. If information was all they wanted, Bones would be back here by now," Kirk said. "So the answer to V'Rhsal is no. He's not going over there."

"Dr. McCoy has given them no more information than he gave us," Spock said, then silenced. Kirk eyed him for a few moments, not liking the Vulcan's stance.

"Well..."

"Jim, you do not understand the mindmeld."

"McCoy said the same thing to me. I don't pretend to understand. The point is, he was repeating messages verbatim."

"I know." Spock frowned.

Kirk waited. It was peculiar that the Vulcan, his Vulcan, hesitated to tell him.

It is not a simple mind meld," Spock said finally, as if concluding the end of an equation.

"Spock..."

"And none of our concern." He paused but Kirk did not push it. He perceived the concern, the worry. After all, it was his friend too. But his Captain would not pry. "Jim, you should allow Kór V'Rhsal to go."

"Are you questioning orders?"

"I would never presume to do such a thing," the Vulcan said stiffly.

"Of course, Mr. Spock." Kirk sat at his desk.

---

McCoy clutched the edge of the table as another wave of pain swept over him. They were starting to frighten him. This morning one had been so intense that he'd fogged out and found himself wandering disoriented in the hall a few minutes later with no memory of leaving the lab. They felt like bad cramps, only he couldn't tell specifically where the pains were originating. Vaguely, it was somewhere around his stomach and then they gnawed out. Two or three would come together, then they would ease for a while before renewing the attack.

He eased his grip on the table, leaving a wet handprint, and pulled a clean slide from the dispenser. Sterilizing a blade, he nicked his arm and let a few drops fall onto the glass.

"...shouldn't self-diagnose, doctor..." he muttered, "...unless the only other physicians around have pointed ears..."

He slid the slide under the microscope and bent over the viewer, hoping he had some time before the next spell.

"...white blood count ok." He refocused the microscope, cursing the tediousness of the process. "No evidence of food poisoning, for some reason."

The lab door opened. He caught sight of green. Her eyes? No, the plant! Leaves and vines of it.

Arhal studied him curiously as she draped the vegetation over a chair. "Here is your famous exploding flora. Did you know you're bleeding? You've opened that wound again." She neared. "You look feverish too. Have you been sick again?" She touched his cheek with fingers that felt like icicles.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Are you sure no one's going to come in here but you?"

Arhal's brow wrinkled at his harsh tone. "You're military property. Specifically, my military property."

"I'm only on loan."

She snorted. "Bones, if you're going to get sick and die, do it after you've given me your secret."

"It's the food," he lied.

She sighed, out of anger or weariness, he wasn't sure. A few minutes later he heard her leave the lab.

He stumbled towards the microscope, feeling the tingling sensation starting again.

"No way!" he said, gritting his teeth. He stained the slide and bent over the microscope again. "Damnit, there's got to be something. Come on!"

The table was moving. It was his hands, shaking, and his eyes were getting bleary.

"What the...?" He rubbed his eyes. "Testosterone? I wonder..."

The pain burst through him. When he came to, breathing raggedly, nearly twenty minutes had passed and the metal microscope was in pieces.

---

Arhal found him late that evening in the hanger, trying to commandeer a shuttle. Despite her small stature, she had well-developed Romulan muscles for she picked McCoy up and literally hauled him back to his cabin. It wasn't until the door was closed that she opened her mouth.

"The guard would have shot you! Are you so eager to die?"

"I've got to get back to the Enterprise."

"You know the terms!"

"No, I've got to..." McCoy trailed off, unable to find the words. His chest rose and fell raggedly.

"I have heard of you, Bones. I did not think you capable of a tantrum. And there's something else you've forgotten. The Enterprise left the area two days ago."

He picked up a chair and threw it at her, with a ferocity that shocked him. She stepped aside and it shattered into pieces against the wall.

"I have indulged you long enough," she said, furious.

"The ship is here. It's the Vulcan..." McCoy stopped, trying to grab his breath as another round of pain assaulted him.

"What Vulcan?" Arhal asked, but he could see by her face she'd already figured it out. She stepped cautiously toward him. "Did you meld with the Vulcan before you flew out in the shuttle?"

His hands tightened on the edge of the desk. She saw it but kept advancing. "That was terrible timing, Bones because, if he dies, you'll go with him. You have to be touching to break a meld." She stroked his cheek, touching him as if daring him to retaliate. "This is intriguing, Bones. It's become obvious that he had the brains in this partnership and he is going to have to come to you. All I have to do is wait for him."

---

McCoy opened his eyes to a blaze of ceiling light. The white light hurt less than the visions scalding the darkness of his eyelids. When the salt from the sweat on his face stung his eyes, he fought to keep them open rather than face the darkness again. He couldn't wipe his face, for Arhal had restrained his arms and legs. He would have felt degraded if he hadn't felt so deeply angry.

He focused on the sword on the shelf, running his eyes along the upraised sleek blade and handle. There was nothing else in his line of vision, except for the light. He couldn't even raise his head to see his arms. He could feel the restraints, but he couldn't see them. He couldn't hear anything either, not from the hall, not even the engines of the ship. The lack of vibration meant, at least, that they were still in the same spot. The Enterprise was still out there but the expected Romulan contingent must be very near indeed.

A spasm of pain trembled, as if testing the territory, then surged freely through his nervous system. Breathing hoarsely, he rode it out, clenching his teeth against the bitter taste it left in his mouth. Pain, obsession and desire - that description he had taken from V'Rhsal's own memories. Pain that craved release. Desire and thirst. No wonder they went into the madness of oblivion. No wonder they embraced it.

He focused on the sword and tried again to find the Vulcan. While fearing what he might find on the other end, it would at least give him a location. He had visions of a Vulcan from hell coming for him and he wanted to be forewarned.

When the next convulsion hit him, he gave up. Whatever the link had been, he'd lost it now.

Something cool pressed the side of his face. He strained to turn his head and found the bleared form of Arhal bending over him.

"Is it bad, Bones?"

He didn't answer. Finally she pressed the end of a straw in his mouth. "Drink. It will help."

Whatever it was tasted like wet leaves but it soothed. She sat on the edge of the bed and wiped his face with a gentleness that bothered him. "For a human, you have a high capacity for suffering."

"You have a high capacity for watching suffering," he said in a raspy voice.

"You knew the rules of the game when you started to play and I want that Vulcan."

"He'll be in no better shape to give you what you want than I am."

Arhal shrugged. "I have my own plan for dealing with him."

McCoy frowned. "At least give me the dignity of untying my arms. I can't reach anything and they're getting numb."

"I do not wish you to hurt yourself."

"One arm."

She undid one strap, then straightened the pillows under his head. "Perhaps, Bones, the Vulcan is leaving you to die."

"It's a long trip from his planet."

"But not so far from the Enterprise." Arhal met his eyes as she gave him another drink. "We both know the Enterprise is still here and that your partner is on it."

McCoy silenced. At length she said, "You deserve to know this. I offered your Captain a deal, you in exchange for the Vulcan. He lied and said he had no Vulcan on board. A Vulcan male caught in the madness is not a pleasant houseguest. Your Captain would do well to consider my offer."

"If Captain Kirk was willing to risk a civilian life to save my own, I would consider it a betrayal, and so would a Romulan."

She smiled. "You are brave and you seem to have a sense of honour. I will allow you this." She undid the other strap on his arm. Though she was in reach, he made no move to grab her.

"In the Vulcan's state, it would not be wise to feed you. You might aspirate. Is there anything else I can get you?"

He shook his head, feeling the now-familiar tingle starting again. He only wished her to leave before the full extent hit him. Unfortunately she stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, a witness to the onslaught of the pain. It was worse this time, like a nova gutting his abdomen. He closed his eyes, unable to stifle a groan. Her cool hands on him felt like icy needle-pricks. She stroked his face and murmured something in Romulan. When it was over, her eyes were very close to his.

"Bones, my physician could sedate you."

"No."

"It would be easier for you."

"Give me the choice to face it with my eyes open."

Arhal settled against the bed's headboard. "I will stay with you. Because you have courage, I promise you this. If you die, you will not be alone."

PART THIRTY TWO

"This isn't good," Chekov whispered to Uhura as they watched the Starships Venture and Valiant assume formation. The Romulan contingent of four flagships and another scout had arrived this morning but had been content to sit quietly with their weapons aimed unswervingly at the Enterprise.

"Arhal wants V'Rhsal and she's not going to back down," Uhura whispered back.

"I guess Doc didn't give them what they wanted. Sulu and Dr. Misu haven't been able to duplicate it. V'Rhsal refuses. I see one way out of this now," Chekov said, then quieted when the turbo lift opened.

"Status," Kirk said.

"Captain Fernandes is hailing us, Captain," Uhura said.

"Put him on."

Fernandes was sombre. "Jim, I wish I could say I'm happy to see you again."

"I know Enso," Kirk smiled. "What's your news?"

"I've got a personal carryover of orders."

Kirk nodded, then turned to Chekov. "Alert Transporter Room."

"Yes, sir," Chekov said as Kirk returned to the turbo.

Fernandes beamed over with three guards and a surly-looking Romulan which he brought into the Enterprise briefing room.

Surprise momentarily crossed Kirk's face. "What's this?"

Fernandes nodded and one of his guards shoved the Romulan into a chair. Kirk noticed that electronic cuffs were on the Romulan's arms and waist.

"Former science officer of the Vulcan ship Nézni, Commander Ralag."

"A Romulan on a Vulcan ship?"

Fernandes shrugged. "Found abandoned on some outpost and adopted by a Vulcan couple. He's got an interesting history to him, especially the last two years. He's broken one of the top Vulcan laws, the one about transporting weaponry and selling to an outside dealer. He claims he's an importer of rare plants on the side."

Kirk took a seat. "And I don't suppose any of these plants happen to be explosive?"

Fernandes blinked. "You've heard this? My information was supposed to be oral. No electronic transmission of any kind."

Kirk leaned forward. "And who happens to supply you with your foliage, Ralag?"

He was greeted with a sneer.

Fernandes frowned. "He claims some Vulcan named V'Rhsal, who, I hear, is on board your ship, Jim."

"He's here. Ralag, are you sure you got that name right? Are you sure it's V'Rhsal, not, perhaps, Sah'Sheer?"

Kirk was rewarded with a slight flicker in the Romulan's eyes. He turned to Fernandes. "Sah'Sheer is V'Rhsal's ex-wife."

"I see," Fernandes said. "Jim, if you'd care to put this Romulan in your brig, I'll give you your new orders."

Kirk nodded at Fernandes' guards. "My men are just outside the door."

When he and Fernandes were alone, he said, "You know that Dr. McCoy and V'Rhsal were partners for some research."

"I heard," Fernandes said. "It's hard to believe that a bush can take out a Klingon ship."

"The `bush' we found was over nineteen kilometres long and had one hell of a fuse," Kirk said.

"What did they need something like that for? I thought they were doing medical research."

"I'm not quite sure, but I can tell you what I think happened. Sah'Sheer did not agree in V'Rhsal's choice of partners."

"Why? Because Dr. McCoy's a human? I hear Vulcans can be funny that way."

"I don't know the whole story," Kirk admitted. "There must have been other grounds but McCoy's definitely part of it. She left V'Rhsal when the research started. A few months later, V'Rhsal and McCoy returned home to find what looked like the remains of a phaser blast in the kitchen. It destroyed a computer and some of their work. A few months later V'Rhsal's flyer and the plant was stolen. Whoever did it got past extensive security. McCoy contacted me and asked me to check out this Sah'Sheer. I contacted the Nézni and they said she was on board."

Fernandes leaned forward. "Easy enough to tell the codes to someone. It's a weak alibi."

"Very weak," Kirk said. "Of course it doesn't explain Ralag's motive."

"Maybe they're a twosome," Fernandes offered. "If Vulcans do things like that."

"I hear Vulcan women can," Kirk said dryly. "What have you got for me?"

Fernandes hesitated. "You might not like this. You've been ordered to transport Ralag and V'Rhsal to Vulcan."

"If I withdraw, that leaves only two of us. They've got six ships out there and they control what's left of the Klingon vessel. McCoy's on one of those ships."

Fernandes looked down. "I know. The Romulans have a right to him, under intergalactic treaty."

Kirk stood and paced around the table. "I'm hardly going to leave him."

"This came straight from the Old Man himself. He's probably waiting for you to call him."

"He's damn right I'm going to call him!"

Fernandes winced. "Easy. I'm just the messenger. And if it's any consolation, Jim, I'm not happy about it either." He stood. "I'd better collect my men and get back. Give me a shout before you leave."

"You'll hear me."

---

Spock entered the dimness of McCoy's quarters so softly that only a Vulcan could have heard his footsteps. V'Rhsal, sitting at the doctor's desk, looked up.

"What is his name?"

Spock studied the impassive face before him. "Ralag. He is a Romulan with Vulcan adopted heritage."

"And he served on the Nézni," V'Rhsal said.

Spock waited. Finally, he said, "He is in the brig. If you desire, I will escort you to him."

V'Rhsal stood. "I accept your offer and am honoured," he said in the traditional Vulcan response.

Spock followed a pace behind. Inwardly, he admired V'Rhsal's complete control, the mental discipline achieved to present such unemotion at this time.

"What is the doctor's status?" Spock asked.

"Restrained, and in pain."

They entered the turbo lift and descended in silence. Spock had broken the Vulcan code of silence when he had relayed suspicions of McCoy's condition to Kirk. V'Rhsal had not questioned Spock's breach of propriety. In fact, he had not alluded to it at all other than to report on McCoy's physical state. This Spock also admired for V'Rhsal had no Vulcan reason to speak of McCoy and, in fact, had disregarded his own personal privacy to address human worry and concern.

They walked through the security level to the brig. Ralag, curled on the corner bunk in the far cell, looked up at their arrival. His sneer disappeared upon seeing V'Rhsal.

"You will speak your name," V'Rhsal said, standing quietly before the forcefield.

Ralag was stared down. Finally, he spat, "Ralag A'r Stell."

V'Rhsal nodded, his face still utterly impassive. "Take her. She is yours."

As he turned to go, Ralag managed a derisive tone. "She gave me a message for you."

"Keep it unto yourself," V'Rhsal said.

Ralag laughed. "When she got your communication, she showed it to everyone on the ship. Then she gave it to me. She put it in my hands. She said you burned...with illogic."

Spock withdrew a few steps but V'Rhsal walked on quietly. Ralag jumped to the forcefield and shouted.

"Do you know she once aborted her womb? She killed anything of yours that started to grow in her and now she's pregnant with my child. Mine! Take THAT back to the human with you!"

The lift doors shut Ralag out. Spock lowered his eyes, giving what privacy he could. V'Rhsal, dispassionately, said, "Kór Spock, I acknowledge your actions."

"He did not speak to my ears." Spock looked up. "I would ask of the doctor's condition."

V'Rhsal's eyes clouded. "He is...difficult to reach. He is in much pain."

Spock considered his words before saying, "Dr. McCoy can withstand a great deal of suffering."

V'Rhsal did not answer. When the turbo lift stopped, Spock escorted him back to McCoy's quarters in silence.

---

Spock was working at his desk when the door to his cabin buzzed. Without looking up, he said, "Enter, Jim."

The door opened and Kirk came in, looking askance. "How the hell do you always know when it's me?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "You do not hesitate before sounding the chime."

Kirk snorted as he took a chair across the desk and set down the tray he was holding.

"Here. My turn to bring tea. I managed to wangle some of that awful Vulcan brew for you." He placed a cup in front of the Vulcan and, without looking up, asked simply, "How's Bones?"

"In much pain."

"You told me you had suspicions," Kirk sighed. "I have to say this. When you were going through...that time, it was fairly apparent. When I spoke to V'Rhsal this morning, I didn't see anything."

Evenly, Spock replied, "I am not full Vulcan."

"Look, I know it's probably none of my business--"

"You are correct. It is not," Spock said. "Nor is it mine."

Kirk finally did look up. "So what happens?" he demanded. "Is V'Rhsal going to let it kill him? If so, what happens to McCoy? Will Bones die too? What, in God's name, is V'Rhsal planning to do?"

Spock could have answered it in one word in Vulcan. In Standard, he had no words to choose. "The obvious solution is for Kór V'Rhsal to go to his...bondmate." Spock's voice sounded...shamed? Kirk blinked. He opened his mouth but said nothing.

Spock waited. He had often thought it a credit to this human that he could think rationally even in the midst of strong exasperation. He waited, knowing his Captain.

"Where is this bondmate?"

"On the Romulan scoutship."

"She's a Romulan?"

"He."

Kirk shook his head. "Vulcans do that?"

Quietly, Spock said, "McCoy does not have much strength left."

"McCoy? MCCOY?" Kirk started, then he closed his mouth as it all sunk in.

"It is not just a mindmeld, could not be at their level of communication."

"We're talking about Bones!"

"Who is at the wrong end of a bonding."

"He told me it was a meld!"

"Jim, it's much deeper."

Kirk leaned against the wall. "But McCoy's another male and he's not like that! What the hell could he do? Fight him?"

Spock turned away. "Kór V'Rhsal did not discuss his options with me. Regardless, he would have to be touching Dr. McCoy in order to end the meld."

"If he does that, won't he die?"

"Yes, he will die, but McCoy will live."

Kirk paused again, then said, "The Romulans aren't going to let him just waltz in. And if it means his death, they certainly aren't going to let him near Bones."

"He possesses knowledge which they want."

Kirk shook his head. "No matter how I view this, and believe me, I've tried in many ways, I can't let V'Rhsal off this ship. If they get him, we lose every option. We'll lose Bones for sure."

---

McCoy clutched the headboard, shaking under the anguish. When it lessened, he wiped his forehead. His sleeve came away bloodied. He could hear Romulans in the hall and a relentless buzzing in his head. A mist hung over the light.

"I never thought I'd go like this," he muttered. "I hope I take him with me." Was it only six days ago he'd sat up in bed and moved legs he could feel?

The wolf was playing piano at the side of the bed. "Did I drink anything before I went to sleep tonight?" McCoy asked him.

"Heaven knows," the wolf said. "I don't know what they serve in this joint." He played a few scales. "What do you want, Len? An old classic? A little Mozart? Lizt?"

"Brahms."

The wolf made a face. "His stuff's so dull. It'll put you to sleep."

"Brahms," McCoy repeated, closing his eyes.

"Len, when you listen to that stuff, you are getting old." However, the wolf complied, playing softly. "Len, I've been thinking."

McCoy opened his eyes. "Yes."

"You brought that generator with you. The plant's on board."

"Hmm..."

The wolf shrugged. "Fireworks, Len. Going out with a bang and all that. We could time it with the last chorus."

McCoy fumbled in his shirt.

"Other pocket, Len."

"Right." The generator was in the other breast pocket. It was the size of a coin but it felt curiously heavy on his forefinger.

"What do you think, Len?"

"It has merit."

"It's what I would do, my friend."

McCoy twirled the generator around as he listened to the music. "Are you ready?"

"On the downbeat."

McCoy brought his other hand up and fumbled at the power connection. It sparked and caught and McCoy, fascinated at the interplay of colours across the metal surface, held it up to the misty light. It twirled, there was a loud bang, and the piano died.

---

Kirk flew off his feet as the bridge tilted under him. There was a second of pitch black, then the red emergency lights came on.

"Chekov! Status!"

"Power loss, Captain."

"Source?"

"Outside the ship, sir. Unusual energy readings. I don't recognize them."

"We have lost the main engines," Spock said. "Secondary systems also out."

The alarms blared. "Intruder alert. Intruder alert."

Spock bent over his scanner. "Confirmed."

Kirk banged against the rail. "Where?"

"Here, Captain. On the bridge with us."

They stared around eerily. Kirk counted shadows and there was one more.

"I am Captain James Kirk. Identify yourself!"

"There is no need to raise your voice, Captain Kirk." The shadow at the viewscreen moved forward.

"Identify yourself."

The lights came on. A placidly smiling man in a simple robe stood before Kirk. "To you, I am Ayelborne."

Kirk eyed the Organian for a moment. "Ayelborne, you took a long time to get here."

"A `long time' is millennium, Captain Kirk. I am here. I am on your sister ships and your enemy's ships. I am at the council chambers on C-6. I stand in the ruins of Allát."

Kirk sat in his command chair. "I take it you got my message."

"I received your message before you sent it."

"Ayelborne..."

"Some silence please, Captain Kirk. I wish to see how we all stand."

Kirk exchanged glances with Spock. The Vulcan merely shrugged.

Ayelborne, still smiling, walked to the viewscreen. "Dr. McCoy used the...generator?" He looked to Spock who nodded. "Generator. Unusual word. He has just attempted to destroy the Romulan ship. Dreadful. Inherent in your kind. Of course I cannot allow it. Dreadful, terrible destruction. Utter waste. You have not learned much since our last meeting."

Kirk's jaw tightened. "Ayelborne, That's my man on that Romulan ship. Are you going to take a grievance hearing or not?"

Ayelborne closed his eyes. "I sense pain here, pain and...self-sacrifice. Curious."

"Ayelborne..." Kirk started again.

"Captain Kirk, I have decided. What the Romulans now possess, they will keep. The Klingons have paid already with their own lives. You and your kind will return to your home base. But the pain..." Ayelborne lost his smile. "This I must not allow either, to preserve life."

Kirk rose out of his chair. "Ayelborne!"

But the Organian had shimmered out of existence.

PART THIRTY TWO

"This isn't good," Chekov whispered to Uhura as they watched the Starships Venture and Valiant assume formation. The Romulan contingent of four flagships and another scout had arrived this morning but had been content to sit quietly with their weapons aimed unswervingly at the Enterprise.

"Arhal wants V'Rhsal and she's not going to back down," Uhura whispered back.

"I guess Doc didn't give them what they wanted. Sulu and Dr. Misu haven't been able to duplicate it. V'Rhsal refuses. I see one way out of this now," Chekov said, then quieted when the turbo lift opened.

"Status," Kirk said.

"Captain Fernandes is hailing us, Captain," Uhura said.

"Put him on."

Fernandes was sombre. "Jim, I wish I could say I'm happy to see you again."

"I know Enso," Kirk smiled. "What's your news?"

"I've got a personal carryover of orders."

Kirk nodded, then turned to Chekov. "Alert Transporter Room."

"Yes, sir," Chekov said as Kirk returned to the turbo.

Fernandes beamed over with three guards and a surly-looking Romulan which he brought into the Enterprise briefing room.

Surprise momentarily crossed Kirk's face. "What's this?"

Fernandes nodded and one of his guards shoved the Romulan into a chair. Kirk noticed that electronic cuffs were on the Romulan's arms and waist.

"Former science officer of the Vulcan ship Nézni, Commander Ralag."

"A Romulan on a Vulcan ship?"

Fernandes shrugged. "Found abandoned on some outpost and adopted by a Vulcan couple. He's got an interesting history to him, especially the last two years. He's broken one of the top Vulcan laws, the one about transporting weaponry and selling to an outside dealer. He claims he's an importer of rare plants on the side."

Kirk took a seat. "And I don't suppose any of these plants happen to be explosive?"

Fernandes blinked. "You've heard this? My information was supposed to be oral. No electronic transmission of any kind."

Kirk leaned forward. "And who happens to supply you with your foliage, Ralag?"

He was greeted with a sneer.

Fernandes frowned. "He claims some Vulcan named V'Rhsal, who, I hear, is on board your ship, Jim."

"He's here. Ralag, are you sure you got that name right? Are you sure it's V'Rhsal, not, perhaps, Sah'Sheer?"

Kirk was rewarded with a slight flicker in the Romulan's eyes. He turned to Fernandes. "Sah'Sheer is V'Rhsal's ex-wife."

"I see," Fernandes said. "Jim, if you'd care to put this Romulan in your brig, I'll give you your new orders."

Kirk nodded at Fernandes' guards. "My men are just outside the door."

When he and Fernandes were alone, he said, "You know that Dr. McCoy and V'Rhsal were partners for some research."

"I heard," Fernandes said. "It's hard to believe that a bush can take out a Klingon ship."

"The `bush' we found was over nineteen kilometres long and had one hell of a fuse," Kirk said.

"What did they need something like that for? I thought they were doing medical research."

"I'm not quite sure, but I can tell you what I think happened. Sah'Sheer did not agree in V'Rhsal's choice of partners."

"Why? Because Dr. McCoy's a human? I hear Vulcans can be funny that way."

"I don't know the whole story," Kirk admitted. "There must have been other grounds but McCoy's definitely part of it. She left V'Rhsal when the research started. A few months later, V'Rhsal and McCoy returned home to find what looked like the remains of a phaser blast in the kitchen. It destroyed a computer and some of their work. A few months later V'Rhsal's flyer and the plant was stolen. Whoever did it got past extensive security. McCoy contacted me and asked me to check out this Sah'Sheer. I contacted the Nézni and they said she was on board."

Fernandes leaned forward. "Easy enough to tell the codes to someone. It's a weak alibi."

"Very weak," Kirk said. "Of course it doesn't explain Ralag's motive."

"Maybe they're a twosome," Fernandes offered. "If Vulcans do things like that."

"I hear Vulcan women can," Kirk said dryly. "What have you got for me?"

Fernandes hesitated. "You might not like this. You've been ordered to transport Ralag and V'Rhsal to Vulcan."

"If I withdraw, that leaves only two of us. They've got six ships out there and they control what's left of the Klingon vessel. McCoy's on one of those ships."

Fernandes looked down. "I know. The Romulans have a right to him, under intergalactic treaty."

Kirk stood and paced around the table. "I'm hardly going to leave him."

"This came straight from the Old Man himself. He's probably waiting for you to call him."

"He's damn right I'm going to call him!"

Fernandes winced. "Easy. I'm just the messenger. And if it's any consolation, Jim, I'm not happy about it either." He stood. "I'd better collect my men and get back. Give me a shout before you leave."

"You'll hear me."

---

Spock entered the dimness of McCoy's quarters so softly that only a Vulcan could have heard his footsteps. V'Rhsal, sitting at the doctor's desk, looked up.

"What is his name?"

Spock studied the impassive face before him. "Ralag. He is a Romulan with Vulcan adopted heritage."

"And he served on the Nézni," V'Rhsal said.

Spock waited. Finally, he said, "He is in the brig. If you desire, I will escort you to him."

V'Rhsal stood. "I accept your offer and am honoured," he said in the traditional Vulcan response.

Spock followed a pace behind. Inwardly, he admired V'Rhsal's complete control, the mental discipline achieved to present such unemotion at this time.

"What is the doctor's status?" Spock asked.

"Restrained, and in pain."

They entered the turbo lift and descended in silence. Spock had broken the Vulcan code of silence when he had relayed suspicions of McCoy's condition to Kirk. V'Rhsal had not questioned Spock's breach of propriety. In fact, he had not alluded to it at all other than to report on McCoy's physical state. This Spock also admired for V'Rhsal had no Vulcan reason to speak of McCoy and, in fact, had disregarded his own personal privacy to address human worry and concern.

They walked through the security level to the brig. Ralag, curled on the corner bunk in the far cell, looked up at their arrival. His sneer disappeared upon seeing V'Rhsal.

"You will speak your name," V'Rhsal said, standing quietly before the forcefield.

Ralag was stared down. Finally, he spat, "Ralag A'r Stell."

V'Rhsal nodded, his face still utterly impassive. "Take her. She is yours."

As he turned to go, Ralag managed a derisive tone. "She gave me a message for you."

"Keep it unto yourself," V'Rhsal said.

Ralag laughed. "When she got your communication, she showed it to everyone on the ship. Then she gave it to me. She put it in my hands. She said you burned...with illogic."

Spock withdrew a few steps but V'Rhsal walked on quietly. Ralag jumped to the forcefield and shouted.

"Do you know she once aborted her womb? She killed anything of yours that started to grow in her and now she's pregnant with my child. Mine! Take THAT back to the human with you!"

The lift doors shut Ralag out. Spock lowered his eyes, giving what privacy he could. V'Rhsal, dispassionately, said, "Kór Spock, I acknowledge your actions."

"He did not speak to my ears." Spock looked up. "I would ask of the doctor's condition."

V'Rhsal's eyes clouded. "He is...difficult to reach. He is in much pain."

Spock considered his words before saying, "Dr. McCoy can withstand a great deal of suffering."

V'Rhsal did not answer. When the turbo lift stopped, Spock escorted him back to McCoy's quarters in silence.

---

Spock was working at his desk when the door to his cabin buzzed. Without looking up, he said, "Enter, Jim."

The door opened and Kirk came in, looking askance. "How the hell do you always know when it's me?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "You do not hesitate before sounding the chime."

Kirk snorted as he took a chair across the desk and set down the tray he was holding.

"Here. My turn to bring tea. I managed to wangle some of that awful Vulcan brew for you." He placed a cup in front of the Vulcan and, without looking up, asked simply, "How's Bones?"

"In much pain."

"You told me you had suspicions," Kirk sighed. "I have to say this. When you were going through...that time, it was fairly apparent. When I spoke to V'Rhsal this morning, I didn't see anything."

Evenly, Spock replied, "I am not full Vulcan."

"Look, I know it's probably none of my business--"

"You are correct. It is not," Spock said. "Nor is it mine."

Kirk finally did look up. "So what happens?" he demanded. "Is V'Rhsal going to let it kill him? If so, what happens to McCoy? Will Bones die too? What, in God's name, is V'Rhsal planning to do?"

Spock could have answered it in one word in Vulcan. In Standard, he had no words to choose. "The obvious solution is for Kór V'Rhsal to go to his...bondmate." Spock's voice sounded...shamed? Kirk blinked. He opened his mouth but said nothing.

Spock waited. He had often thought it a credit to this human that he could think rationally even in the midst of strong exasperation. He waited, knowing his Captain.

"Where is this bondmate?"

"On the Romulan scoutship."

"She's a Romulan?"

"He."

Kirk shook his head. "Vulcans do that?"

Quietly, Spock said, "McCoy does not have much strength left."

"McCoy? MCCOY?" Kirk started, then he closed his mouth as it all sunk in.

"It is not just a mindmeld, could not be at their level of communication."

"We're talking about Bones!"

"Who is at the wrong end of a bonding."

"He told me it was a meld!"

"Jim, it's much deeper."

Kirk leaned against the wall. "But McCoy's another male and he's not like that! What the hell could he do? Fight him?"

Spock turned away. "Kór V'Rhsal did not discuss his options with me. Regardless, he would have to be touching Dr. McCoy in order to end the meld."

"If he does that, won't he die?"

"Yes, he will die, but McCoy will live."

Kirk paused again, then said, "The Romulans aren't going to let him just waltz in. And if it means his death, they certainly aren't going to let him near Bones."

"He possesses knowledge which they want."

Kirk shook his head. "No matter how I view this, and believe me, I've tried in many ways, I can't let V'Rhsal off this ship. If they get him, we lose every option. We'll lose Bones for sure."

---

McCoy clutched the headboard, shaking under the anguish. When it lessened, he wiped his forehead. His sleeve came away bloodied. He could hear Romulans in the hall and a relentless buzzing in his head. A mist hung over the light.

"I never thought I'd go like this," he muttered. "I hope I take him with me." Was it only six days ago he'd sat up in bed and moved legs he could feel?

The wolf was playing piano at the side of the bed. "Did I drink anything before I went to sleep tonight?" McCoy asked him.

"Heaven knows," the wolf said. "I don't know what they serve in this joint." He played a few scales. "What do you want, Len? An old classic? A little Mozart? Lizt?"

"Brahms."

The wolf made a face. "His stuff's so dull. It'll put you to sleep."

"Brahms," McCoy repeated, closing his eyes.

"Len, when you listen to that stuff, you are getting old." However, the wolf complied, playing softly. "Len, I've been thinking."

McCoy opened his eyes. "Yes."

"You brought that generator with you. The plant's on board."

"Hmm..."

The wolf shrugged. "Fireworks, Len. Going out with a bang and all that. We could time it with the last chorus."

McCoy fumbled in his shirt.

"Other pocket, Len."

"Right." The generator was in the other breast pocket. It was the size of a coin but it felt curiously heavy on his forefinger.

"What do you think, Len?"

"It has merit."

"It's what I would do, my friend."

McCoy twirled the generator around as he listened to the music. "Are you ready?"

"On the downbeat."

McCoy brought his other hand up and fumbled at the power connection. It sparked and caught and McCoy, fascinated at the interplay of colours across the metal surface, held it up to the misty light. It twirled, there was a loud bang, and the piano died.

---

Kirk flew off his feet as the bridge tilted under him. There was a second of pitch black, then the red emergency lights came on.

"Chekov! Status!"

"Power loss, Captain."

"Source?"

"Outside the ship, sir. Unusual energy readings. I don't recognize them."

"We have lost the main engines," Spock said. "Secondary systems also out."

The alarms blared. "Intruder alert. Intruder alert."

Spock bent over his scanner. "Confirmed."

Kirk banged against the rail. "Where?"

"Here, Captain. On the bridge with us."

They stared around eerily. Kirk counted shadows and there was one more.

"I am Captain James Kirk. Identify yourself!"

"There is no need to raise your voice, Captain Kirk." The shadow at the viewscreen moved forward.

"Identify yourself."

The lights came on. A placidly smiling man in a simple robe stood before Kirk. "To you, I am Ayelborne."

Kirk eyed the Organian for a moment. "Ayelborne, you took a long time to get here."

"A `long time' is millennium, Captain Kirk. I am here. I am on your sister ships and your enemy's ships. I am at the council chambers on C-6. I stand in the ruins of Allát."

Kirk sat in his command chair. "I take it you got my message."

"I received your message before you sent it."

"Ayelborne..."

"Some silence please, Captain Kirk. I wish to see how we all stand."

Kirk exchanged glances with Spock. The Vulcan merely shrugged.

Ayelborne, still smiling, walked to the viewscreen. "Dr. McCoy used the...generator?" He looked to Spock who nodded. "Generator. Unusual word. He has just attempted to destroy the Romulan ship. Dreadful. Inherent in your kind. Of course I cannot allow it. Dreadful, terrible destruction. Utter waste. You have not learned much since our last meeting."

Kirk's jaw tightened. "Ayelborne, That's my man on that Romulan ship. Are you going to take a grievance hearing or not?"

Ayelborne closed his eyes. "I sense pain here, pain and...self-sacrifice. Curious."

"Ayelborne..." Kirk started again.

"Captain Kirk, I have decided. What the Romulans now possess, they will keep. The Klingons have paid already with their own lives. You and your kind will return to your home base. But the pain..." Ayelborne lost his smile. "This I must not allow either, to preserve life."

Kirk rose out of his chair. "Ayelborne!"

But the Organian had shimmered out of existence.

PART THRITY THREE

McCoy opened his eyes and found himself in another place. Perception was wrong. No, he was actually upright! His legs were free and tingling as the blood returned to them. The sweat was drying on his face.

A panel in front of him blinked a few lights. Where was this place? Those windows...a shuttle?

"My Lord, they take you to heaven in a shuttlecraft," he whispered.

"Leonard..."

He turned. In the chair beside him was V'Rhsal, looking visibly stunned.

"Where am I? Is this real?"

"We are in the Spirit..." V'Rhsal trailed off.

"How did I get here?" McCoy asked, still in a hushed voice.

The Vulcan managed to compose his face. "I believe the Organians have arrived."

McCoy glanced out the window as well. "There's a planet below us."

"Vulcan."

As V'Rhsal guided the shuttle through re-entry, McCoy rubbed his legs. "Do you know what they did? They tied me down! That was after I thought I had food-poisoning. And where the hell were you?"

"I could not reach you."

"Do you have any idea what I've gone through?" He eyed the Vulcan but V'Rhsal's face was completely expressionless. "It's your time, isn't it? Couldn't you have warned me before I left? Didn't you feel it coming?"

"No, I did not. It is too early."

They entered the atmosphere. There was a flash of heat in the shuttle as red and orange streaked past the ports. V'Rhsal became aware of McCoy's steady gaze on him.

"Leonard?"

"I expected, I don't know," McCoy said. "But you seem awfully controlled. Where are we going?"

"My house."

McCoy shivered suddenly. "What will happen then?"

"We will break the meld, then you will lock me away."

"V'Rhsal, I can't."

"We set out to defeat Khlabar and we have accomplished that purpose. Time now for endings, Leonard."

McCoy felt the shuttle touch ground. The engines quieted. "So much for your back fence," he said, glancing out the window.

V'Rhsal unstrapped himself from the chair and rose. "Let this be done within the privacy of my own walls."

McCoy followed the Vulcan silently, allowing V'Rhsal to control for both of them. But he could feel tendrils of fire laughing at the edge again.

They entered through the back door, into the kitchen, the place where he had spit watermelon seeds. Sunlight poured through the open blinds. He took off his boots and felt the floor warm under his feet. The cooling unit hummed softly and beside it sat a cup in the sink.

V'Rhsal climbed the stairs to his room. McCoy had rarely come in here thinking it a bare, depressing area. Now he understood why it was so. It contained nothing breakable and the door had a heavy lock.

V'Rhsal spent a few moments looking through the blinds, his hands resting on the sill. McCoy's stomach cramped and he sat on the bed, trying to ease it. "Pon Farr is like having a bad case of the runs."

The Vulcan turned. In every line, every muscle, in the razor-sharp of the black eyes, McCoy saw fury.

"Tie me, Leonard. Chain me. Fasten me down."

His voice was hoarse.

"No."

"Quickly!"

McCoy jumped. The man he knew was leaving in every course of pain and, as he looked, he felt a deep indignation at what could break a proud spirit.

"Quickly!"

Pain burned behind McCoy's eyes. Running in a trail of pricks it burst in every nerve.

"Leonard! Do not hesitate! RESTRAIN ME!"

"No! I CAN'T do that!"

McCoy touched the rampantly hot skin and felt the flutter of the Vulcan's heart. Torment like a fire flying over a fuel trail, raced over him, boundless, boundless fire surging through the link. Though terrified, McCoy hugged V'Rhsal to him.

The Vulcan felt the difference, the skin on skin. He ground. He wracked himself against the cooler skin. To McCoy it felt as though his flesh was being dry-scorched off of him but he held on. Wave upon wave of the white hot came upon him, now rushing, now slithering. His brain roared in a furnace. His eyes blinded. V'Rhsal shoved him brutally back onto the bed then came for him and the smell of sweat and copper overwhelmed him. Fingers dug into his temples, raging to complete the link. A bayonet thrust into his mind. Screaming, he pushed and, somehow, threw the Vulcan off.

Then it slowed. McCoy opened his eyes and found V'Rhsal hovering over him, staring blindly at the rumpled sheets.

He took a shaky breath, feeling the wicked hurt in his bowels. But the wave receded further until the link was nearly gone.

"...reflected fires..." V'Rhsal whispered, coughing as he tried to draw in air.

McCoy tasted his own blood in his mouth. One eye was swelling shut and his chest felt as though someone had taken a jackhammer to it.

The Vulcan touched McCoy's temples and opened the small strand left.

let us join in the ritual for mating.

my god, v'rhsal. it hurts!

i know but it is not from me. it is coming from you.

i don't understand.

be still. it will be all right now.

---

He woke to the sound of rain pattering on the windows and a cool breeze moving the blinds with a soft click.

McCoy sat up slowly, feeling dizzy. The covers lay crumpled on the floor and he was alone in the bed.

"V'Rhsal?"

The link opened. A strong surge of the Vulcan's presence, the heat, the touch of minds. He recoiled.

A few moments later, V'Rhsal entered the bedroom carrying a tray.

eat, leonard. it will help.

He sat beside the doctor, balancing the tray on his knees. He poured a cup of tea, then looked over and smiled.

McCoy took the cup, eyeing the Vulcan uneasily.

i was told never to trust a smiling vulcan.

i was told never to trust a smiling human.

explain this to me.

celibacy does not agree with you. fires from your mind reflected into mine. your desire started my pain.

McCoy ate carefully, then discovered he was hungry.

i have never felt so much pain. i thought it was your time. are you saying it was me?

V'Rhsal bent his head.

it was from both of us.

then, your time is still to come.

yes.

do you think this other could happen again?

if we remain joined and celibate, yes.

answer this simply, v'rhsal. can two males survive it?

i know two vulcan males can, however, leonard, answer me. you reconnected the power source to the generator, knowing there was a large amount of the plant-model nearby. did you not perceive the danger?

i perceived it.

would you have rather faced death than me?

you dumb Vulcan. you've got it backwards. i set off the generator to prevent you from coming for me. i had no guarantee that the romulans would let you live any longer than it would take to give the information to them. as far as i was concerned, they would have pried what they wanted from your mind and just kicked you out the hatch. and i had some idea that maybe your ex-wife might, you know, return.

she has chosen another.

McCoy put the tray on the floor, then pulled up the covers.

when i was strapped down on the Romulan ship, i had some free time to think. i know very little about this but i see one vulcan-human marriage and she does not appear to be suffering. so, i've come to a decision.

which is...

i want you.

V'Rhsal met the doctor's eyes.

i want you as well.

there's a way to break the cycle, isn't there?

it is possible, but it requires recurrent periods of mating.

McCoy laughed.

i don't have a problem with that.

and it would require your return to vulcan in one or two years time.

i can do that too.

leonard, in one year, or two, i could not guarantee what you would find when you returned. it would be much worse. you could die.

McCoy met the black eyes.

i would be here.

leonard, i cannot risk you. if we part, you could involve yourself in a normal human union that would not imperil your life.

v'rhsal, what is normal? with all my experience and education, i don't have a clue.

V'Rhsal set the tray on the floor, then reached over and pulled the covers down from the doctor's chest.

leonard, look at what i did to you.

McCoy pulled the covers back up.

i'll heal.

is this truly what you desire? could you commit yourself for the rest of your life? would you record it on vulcan public record? if your shipmates and family asked you, would you admit i was your mate? could you tell your captain that you have chosen me for your bed?

i am not ashamed of it. are you?

V'Rhsal didn't answer. Instead he got up and left the room.

PART THRITY FOUR

Kirk drummed his fingers on his chair arm as Spock guided the shuttlecraft through Vulcan atmosphere. "Every time we have dealings with the Organians, I feel slighted."

Spock glanced over but said nothing.

"We don't get the plant. The Romulans don't. I have to take their assurances that they've cleaned up the remainder from the Klingons. God knows what they put Bones through over there and Ayelborne doesn't seem to think we deserve an apology."

"There will be no war," Spock pointed out.

Kirk scowled. "I suppose it was also Ayelborne who scattered my shuttle, my chief medical officer, and that damned V'Rhsal over here to Vulcan."

"V'Rhsal's family has replaced the Spirit."

Kirk glanced around the interior of the shuttle. "Ok. This is better than Starfleet-issue. It still doesn't excuse it."

"Vulcan understands," Spock said simply.

Kirk leaned forward and tapped his fingers on the console. "Do you think V'Rhsal's still alive?"

"I do not know."

"At least Bones is ok. If V'Rhsal survived, I imagine they've probably ended that mindmeld by now." Kirk caught Spock's eye. "Or whatever it was."

"It is not our affair, Jim."

"It's my prerogative to worry. Bones always said that I did stupid things but he's sure got me beat this time."

V'Rhsal's home was at the fringes of the city, his back yard at the edge of a large stretch of sand. As they neared it, Kirk leapt out of his seat.

"Is THAT the Spirit?"

The once-high security wall was left in scattered clumps over red sand, flattened by the impact of the shuttle. The shuttle itself was scarred from re-entry. Black divots streaked from the belly up over the wings and a long crack ran across the roof. Wires hunt out the back hatch whose panel was now a spider's web of breaks. But the worst was the pilot-side pylon, almost completely sheared in half and bent completely backwards from its normal angle.

"So much for the security system," Kirk said. As they landed, and the full extent of the damage became more apparent, Kirk added softly, "I hope McCoy's in one piece."

The door of the house opened as Kirk was regarding the debris. A Vulcan Kirk didn't know came down the back steps.

"Captain Kirk. Kór Spock."

"Yes?" Kirk said.

"I am Soltar, a physician at the Academy Hospital and an acquaintance of Leonard McCoy."

Kirk eyed Soltar worriedly. Was McCoy in the hospital?

"Leonard left a portion of his work for me to complete. I delivered the results this morning. This way."

Soltar led them back into the house, into a large living area, then disappeared. The doctor had been sitting at a table by a terminal reader but jumped up at their arrival.

"Jim! Spock!"

"Good God, Bones! That's one hell of a shiner. Are you all right?" Kirk rushed over to him.

"I got it from the shuttle crash. I'm fine."

"I left you on a Romulan ship, doctor. You end up on Vulcan AND you're AWOL. You've got a lot of explaining to do."

McCoy scowled. "Someone does. One minute I'm enjoying the best Romulan wingding in the sector, the next I'm in freefall."

Kirk eyed McCoy strangely, then exchanged a look with Spock. The Vulcan, however, appeared to be studying the carpet intently.

"Where's V'Rhsal?"

"I don't know and I really don't give a damn."

"The Organians put the two of you on the shuttle together, didn't they?"

"Much to my eternal joy," McCoy muttered. "I thought the Organians were supposed to be smart."

Kirk had been genuinely uneasy, justifiably so, wondering if V'Rhsal would confront McCoy. After all, Spock had come at him during Koon-ut-Kali-fee without a shred of the person he'd known. "He's still alive?"

McCoy blinked. "We didn't crash that badly so I guess he is. Do you want some coffee?"

He went into the kitchen and Kirk, frustrated, followed. If McCoy didn't want to discuss it, nothing in the universe would move him.

"Do you know how it turned out?" Kirk asked.

"Yes," McCoy said, pouring coffee. "Sarek came by."

"And you know that Starfleet wants you to turn in your botany permit." Kirk sat at the table.

McCoy handed Spock a cup. "You'll like this. It's horrid."

"Bones, Starfleet isn't happy with you," Kirk cut in.

McCoy shrugged. "So?"

"The Old Man suggested that the two of us might want to drop by his office sometime soon."

"He's upset because Vulcan took Sah'Sheer and Ralag away from him," McCoy said. "I'm tempted to send him a potted plant for his office. What do you think? Something with a lot of leaves?"

"McCoy," Kirk warned.

"Give me a few moments to get my stuff and we can get going." McCoy retraced his path into the den. V'Rhsal was at the terminal, lightly tapping the keyboard.

kirk and spock are in the kitchen.

will you be leaving with them?

that was kind of the reason why i spent the morning packing.

V'Rhsal shut off the terminal.

i am gratified that soltar was able to utilize your notes in your absence. your departure will not affect further research.

to think i actually cared what was going to happen to you.

leonard, i care what is going to happen to you.

that's nice.

your presence in this house has affected me.

well i can't say you let it show.

McCoy picked up a book and stuffed it in the sack.

leonard, do i have your attention?

just hanging onto every word.

V'Rhsal came around to stand in front of the doctor.

you are angry, correct?

"Angry? ANGRY?" McCoy burst out. "You don't have a flying frog's NOTION what that is!"

In the kitchen, Kirk and Spock glanced at each other, than looked over their shoulders curiously.

"Leonard..." V'Rhsal started.

"Right in the middle of my telling you things I've never told ANYONE before, you just walked out! Do you know how that made me FEEL?"

"Angry?" V'Rhsal ventured.

McCoy glared at him. "Is that supposed to be a joke? You BASTARD!""

V'Rhsal hastily took a step backwards and whispered, "Did you say that Captain Kirk and Kór Spock were in the kitchen?"

McCoy took a deep breath, then lowered his voice.

"Do you remember what we did together?"

"My memory is quite adequate."

"We made love."

V'Rhsal looked at the doorway anxiously. "Leonard..."

"I would never have considered it with a male, much less an oversized anteater like you. It was something deep to me. When you got up the next morning and made plans to go wife-hunting, it hurt. And you had the gall to call humans depraved!" McCoy grabbed a tape and hurled it into the sack. "I should have known something was wrong from the first when I came out of that mindmeld to find you on top of me."

V'Rhsal put a hand to his forehead, looking very green. "Leonard, does it not bother you that your friends might overhear?"

"No!" McCoy snapped the knapsack closed. "Is that clear to you? Or do I need a sledgehammer to get it in your head?"

When V'Rhsal did not answer, McCoy snapped, "Don't you at least have the decency to say something?"

The Vulcan eyed the doctor warily.

"I give up." McCoy started for the door.

leonard, the meld.

end it quick

V'Rhsal glanced around the room, then motioned to the desk.

lean against this so you do not fall.

hurry up.

perhaps you should put down your possessions.

McCoy sighed and dropped the knapsack.

ok? are you finally ready?

close your eyes.

McCoy did so, then waited. He felt the Vulcan's fingertips graze his forehead. Prickles ran over his arms and chest.

"...what is this?..." he whispered.

The Vulcan touched his cheek to the Human's. "...it is the beginning, Leonard..."

"...Kirk and Spock are out in the kitchen!..."

The Vulcan so suddenly smiled that McCoy lost his balance. V'Rhsal put his arms around the doctor to keep him steady, then he reached down to open McCoy's pants.

McCoy knew Kirk would be perplexed by now over the length of time it was taking him to `pack up his things'. He doubted that Spock would intrude but Kirk had never been patient and might very well come down the hall to see what was taking so long. The ultimate - to be caught doing the wild thing on a desk with another man, but he was far too aroused to stop. Where V'Rhsal was touching him was crackling every nerve, the pleasure more extreme than with anyone else he'd ever loved.

A small moan escaped him, which he muffled against the Vulcan's shoulder. The warmth of the Vulcan skin came down on him as he leaned back over the desk. His thighs ended up around V'Rhsal's and one arm got trapped against a computer monitor, the positioning exceedingly awkward, yet they managed to put all the parts together.

V'Rhsal rubbed himself against the doctor. McCoy gasped.

does it hurt, leonard?

oh God, no...don't stop!

V'Rhsal's black eyes looked down into the human's blue ones.

touch me.

McCoy did, touching everything, lingering everywhere. By now they were physically grinding against each other.

McCoy felt himself grow taut, felt the Vulcan's answering hardness, felt his heart hammering and his abdomen tensing, groaning as the throbbing in his groin grew ponderous and heady. He kissed the Vulcan, feeling the alien lips over his. To his amazement, the Vulcan started kissing him back, breathing heavy against his mouth, sweat running off his lip.

McCoy felt the tip of the Vulcan's tongue touch his and it sent him over the edge.

it's happening! i can't stop it!

V'Rhsal pushed hard against McCoy. McCoy felt his own crisis spike, the sudden undulations, then the release and the cascade of sticky seed over his abdomen.

The Vulcan moaned softly, then came an answering stickiness from him as his ejaculate pooled with the human's.

McCoy closed his eyes and hugged V'Rhsal to him.

PART THIRTY FIVE

In the kitchen, the sudden, utter descent of silence unnerved Kirk. Leaning forward, he asked, "Do you think McCoy killed him?"

Spock studied his cup as if it was some new species of life. "The design of this pottery grain is quite intriguing. Did you note it is triple-glazed?"

"Spock-"

"Jim, I am not going to go and look."

Kirk half-rose, then sat back down, glancing in the hallway behind them.

---

McCoy opened his eyes. The room was dark.

"The sun's gone done," he whispered. "How long have we been in here?"

"Seventeen minutes, forty-four seconds," V'Rhsal answered in a low voice.

McCoy rubbed his cheek against the Vulcan's. "There's something in my back."

"A paperweight." The Vulcan reached around to the desk and moved it away. Then he stepped back to adjust his clothing.

"I can't believe we did that." McCoy risked a look at the doorway.

"They are in the kitchen, Leonard. Kór Spock is explaining the origins of Vulcan pottery to your Captain." V'Rhsal turned on the desk lamp. "We have been...indelicate."

"I don't care. If we had been caught, I would have just laughed and kept going."

"Leonard, preference of choice is recognized under Vulcan Family Law. We could register this union."

"Your family won't approve," McCoy said.

"The Head of my family is my paternal grandmother. She is the only voice. My union with Sah'Sheer did not result in children. The issue of an heir is not a consideration and the marriage has been ended by implied consent. As well, you have been granted Vulcan citizenship. Your skills are of benefit. My grandmother may require validation of a pon farr cycle but there is no logical reason for her to disapprove of this joining."

"Validation?" McCoy scowled. "You mean if we survive it?"

"I will need to seek you when my time comes upon me. Do you fear this?"

McCoy met the Vulcan's eyes. "No. Not at all. We've gone deep here. The difference of it...thrills me. It takes my breath away. It's worth anything to me."

"And we have only just started."

"I have one stipulation."

"Yes?"

"You hold anything back from me, you play around with my feelings just once, and I'll strip the hide off you."

"I quite believe that," V'Rhsal said seriously.

McCoy touched his fingers to the Vulcan's, then leaned forward and kissed him. "I want to again," he whispered beside the pointed ear.

"Leonard, we can't." V'Rhsal eyed the door leading to the kitchen. McCoy laughed and kept kissing him.

"Will you inform them?"

McCoy let go. "Yes, though I'd rather stay here."

V'Rhsal listened for a moment. "I believe they are now in the back yard."

"Great! They're out of hearing range." McCoy tugged at V'Rhsal's pants but the Vulcan jumped away.

"I'd prefer more privacy, and a place other than my desk." V'Rhsal pulled his zipper back up. "I will be at my office in the hospital."

V'Rhsal went one way. McCoy went the other, through the kitchen and out the back door. Spock stood, back stiff, at the furthest reach of the yard, where the desert sand began. Kirk had turned the Spirit's outer lights on and was picking through the rubble like a disgusted beachcomber. He looked up at the doctor's arrival and said gruffly, "What the hell have you done to my shuttle?"

"I wasn't driving."

"Did he even try to land right side up?" Kirk picked up a melted, brown...something, grimaced, then threw it back in the pile. McCoy waited, trying to compose his expression. He knew they'd heard the argument but was unsure just how much else had been audible. Finally Kirk plopped down on one of the pylons and said, "I'd just put all new chrome on."

"It's a bitch to keep polished anyway."

"What do the neighbours think of the mess?"

McCoy shrugged. "I don't know. I've never met either side." He quieted for a long moment. Spock took a few steps away from them, disappearing around the garage.

"Jim, I want to tell you something. Do you remember, years ago, those rumours about you and Spock, that the two of you were more than friends?"

"I remember," Kirk muttered. "It went around the ship like wildfire."

"If it had been true, it wouldn't have made any difference to me."

The doctor's tone jarred Kirk. He eyed McCoy uneasily. "What is this about?"

"It's about me and V'Rhsal."

"What are you saying, Bones? That you two sleep together?" Kirk asked, so stunned he could barely put the words together."McCoy, you allow this?" But while he said it, in his mind's eye, he remembered the doctor, standing stiffly at attention - I'm staying here. His reply - Bones, if we can't correct the course of this planet, we'll have to blow it out of the sky. And the doctor, stubborn, had said, I'm staying here with these people.

McCoy chuckled. "Yes, I allow it."

"My God, McCoy, why?"

"Why not?"

Kirk put a hand to his forehead. "Good thing I'm so near the ground. Saves me the trouble of toppling over."

"I've never seen you topple over," the doctor said gently.

"You know Vulcan males go through that seven year heat. We had enough trouble with Spock and he's only half Vulcan."

As if hearing his name, Spock reappeared on the other side of the garage. McCoy glanced at him, then turned back to Kirk. "Jim, I've fallen in love."

Kirk shook his head. "No way."

"Why do you think I kept extending my leave?"

"He's another male!"

"Jim, I kind of know that already."

"Was it not just ten minutes ago that you said you didn't care where the hell he was?"

"Actually, it was more like seventeen."

Kirk eyed the doctor, for, in truth, he was unnerved now. McCoy, for his part, was looking thoughtfully at Spock.

"Just how good is your hearing anyway?" McCoy asked with an odd tone.

Spock managed to look innocent. "I have a cold and my ears are somewhat congested."

The doctor smiled. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Spock."

The interplay between them had shifted in a way Kirk could not quite grasp. All he knew for sure was that the McCoy he faced now was a hundred and eighty degrees from the friend he knew two years ago. Back then, this was a conversation he and the doctor would never have had.

"Bones," he tried, "the risk of the thing!"

McCoy turned back to him, the same blue eyes Kirk had seen a hundred times, but they were not the same. There wassomething else in the blue Kirk had never before seen.

"The 'thing' is my business," McCoy said. "Jim, this is supposed to be good news."

"I'm sorry. Congratulations, Bones. But," Kirk stood. "If anything happens to you, whatever he is to you, he will pay."

PART THIRTY SIX

Kirk thought, by rising early, he would miss the Vulcan heat. In fact, it was waiting for him before he sat up out of bed. The thermal cover fell back and he hit, without the advantage of the barrier, a wall of mean hot.

"Damn..." He paced to the bathroom and stuck his head under the cold tap. "This is nuts."

He and Spock had spent the night at Spock's parents. It had been a long time since he'd had the pleasure of Amanda's company. More than that, the night gave him a buffer between McCoy's dropping the bomb and his facing V'Rhsal. Kirk had spent his life listening to his internal alarms, most of the time at McCoy's encouragement. Even when he hadn't agreed with it, he'd always thought McCoy's judgement sound, but accepting this meant overcoming every gut feeling he had

Spock had dropped into his Vulcan mode and was unapproachable on the subject. Kirk had no one else to talk to here, so he'd spent the night endlessly running through it on his own. He'd tried, but the image of that cold, side-stepping Vulcan kept smacking back at him. Two males were one thing and Kirk had no real problem with that, though he would never have figured it for the doctor. But this was beyond gender. To Kirk, it was akin to putting a goldfish and a shark in the same tank.

After breakfast, he and Spock took a flyer to V'Rhsal's. As Kirk strapped in his seat, he said, "Am I supposed to be honoured McCoy wants me to attend this ceremony?"

"There is no ceremony, Jim," Spock said as he guided the flyer into a main route. "This is a simple, formal declaration to V'Rhsal's family to recognize the union."

"A union or a marriage?"

"There is no difference. As investment of the family name is generally the foremost consideration when determining suitable unions, family interests can be served by the joining of two males or two females."

"That doesn't apply here. We're talking about McCoy and another male. I've never seen anything like this in him before. More than that, we're talking about McCoy and a Vulcan. You can't sit there and tell me this doesn't startle you at all."

"They have been joined for almost three years. I would hardly be 'startled'."

Spock landed the flyer in the front. As he powered down, Kirk said, "I'll support him. God knows he's done the same for me, many times, when he must have thought me totally deranged. He's supported me, but he never did it blindly."

When the flyer's motor silenced, they could hear noises from the back yard. V'Rhsal and McCoy had cleared up much of the wall and McCoy was standing in the last remnants of it, leaning on a shovel, when he saw Kirk and Spock.

"Here, Jim. This is for you." He tapped a pile of shiny metal with his shoe.

"What is it?"

"The chrome off the Spirit. I saved it for you." McCoy smiled quickly, then tossed the shovel into a corner of the yard.

V'Rhsal turned at their approach and nodded slightly. "Kór Spock. Captain."

"Hello," Kirk said, picking up a piece of the metal. "McCoy, where's the rest of the shuttle?"

"I think it's being turned into a bird feeder."

"What?" Kirk glanced up, unsure of the doctor's humour.

"Leonard," V'Rhsal said. "I explained the function to you quite clearly."

McCoy glanced over at Spock. "What on earth is a Conductive Reflex Oscillating Two-Way Pantitulator?"

Spock clasped his hands behind his back and said expressionlessly, "A bird feeder."

McCoy shot V'Rhsal a look that Kirk would have found funny under any other circumstances.

V'Rhsal put down his shovel as well and asked, "Leonard, are you ready to leave?"

McCoy held up a piece of the wall. "Not if you're driving."

The humour in V'Rhsal's next words took Kirk by surprise.

"Are you implying that my landing was less than satisfactory?"

"Funny, I do seem to have that impression."

"We could use city transportation, Leonard."

"Hiking the twenty-three blocks to the nearest stop in the heat of Vulcan midday would be a delight. What do you think, Jim?"

"I'm not getting into this, McCoy," Kirk said as he straightened.

In a serious tone, V'Rhsal added, "Leonard, you do not know the route. In addition, you have a problem with coming to a full stop before opening the hatchway on my side."

"That only happened once."

"I fell out of the flyer."

"It was only a few metres."

"Five metres."

"And you soft-landed."

"A lichen-spike bush is not a soft-landing."

Kirk turned to Spock. "You drive."

---

p> V'Rhsal's grandmother was a Kohlinar-Master and lived in shrines a significant distance in the Vulcan desert. It took almost an hour to fly there, an hour during which V'Rhsal and Spock talked softly in the front of the flyer, and Kirk and McCoy talked not at all in the rear.

After Spock landed the flyer and shut off the engines, he and V'Rhsal both stilled for a few moments, eyes closed, as if meditating. Kirk glanced at them, then shrugged and got out of the flyer. McCoy hesitated following, torn between standing in the hot desert sand or panicking quietly in the cool interior of the vehicle. He knew he would have to submit to a mind-touch by one of these Masters. That it would only take a few seconds was hardly comforting. His mind had already been through a windmill and he was figured there were still some pieces floating around somewhere. He didn't want more people in the wind with it. He wasn't sure either if they would pass the `test'. He had no idea what a true bonding was, and he wasn't sure if simply loving someone was enough.

V'Rhsal finally stood.

are you ready, leonard?

let's go.

The heat outside the flyer was horrific. It baked his skin and burned his lungs. Where the Masters lived seemed to be part of a mountain, the door inset against the sheer edge of a cliff.

V'Rhsal stood near the door for a moment. Then he spoke quietly, so low that McCoy had trouble hearing. He heard V'Rhsal's name, and that of his family. He heard his own name and something further in High Vulcan he did not understand.

The door opened.

come, leonard.

They followed V'Rhsal down a long hall and into a dim chamber. McCoy noticed Kirk almost on his heels, the captain's unconscious protective reflex. Normally he would have pushed Kirk away. Normally...

At least it was cooler here but there were no windows and nothing to sit on that wasn't made out of stone.

what do we do now? McCoy queried when, after about ten minutes, they were still alone in the chamber.

we wait.

V'Rhsal stood so McCoy did too. Spock stood near the doorway, hands clasped behind his back and head bent. Kirk paced with small, nervous steps. McCoy strained to listen but there was nothing to hear, nothing he could hear at any rate. The sweat soaked the back of his shirt.

Finally he heard a footstep and a tall, severe-looking woman entered. Her robes dazzled white, even in the dimness of the room. A large, glowing stone hung on a thick band from her neck and her eyes glittered coldly above it. She was attended by two blonde Vulcan women, beautiful but no less steely than their mentor.

The Master's eyes fastened on McCoy as if trying to cut through him. He held his ground. His new motto - always outstare them.

Finally she turned away. Her eyes flickered over Spock and Kirk. To Kirk's credit, he too returned her stare without blinking.

"V'Rhsal, son of Starn, son of T'Pall, why does thou come here?"

"I seek thine approval of my bondmate."

"Why does thee bring these off-worlders?"

"One to join. One to witness."

The Master's gaze swept over Kirk and Spock. "State who thou art."

Courteously but firmly, Kirk said, "Captain James T. Kirk, Starfleet."

Spock finally looked up. "I am Spock, son of Sarek, son of Amanda."

"Thee are both known to me." She returned to V'Rhsal. "Thy wife has rejected thee?"

"Yes."

"Why hast thou chosen a Human male?"

"It is my desire."

"Does he understand? Will he submit when thy Vulcan blood burns?"

"He understands."

V'Rhsal did not look at McCoy once during the interchange. Nor did he offer any support through the meld. McCoy, somewhat daunted now, had decided the best course was simply to stand quiet. The Master, however, started another cool inspection of him.

"What is thy name?"

"McCoy, John Leonard David."

"Makkoy, John Leonard David, since the earliest of memory, Vulcan males must endure the burning of the madness. If thee bonds with this man, thee will become part of the madness and it will become part of thee. Thine own blood will burn and thine own madness will come upon thee. Thee must also decide. If thou so choose, thou may leave here now."

He took a deep breath and said, "I am not leaving."

She bent her head. "Open to me."

V'Rhsal knelt in front of her. McCoy hesitated, then did the same, swallowing hard. Kirk made fists, nearly overwhelmed by the urge to grab McCoy and pull him away. Spock gently laid a hand on Kirk's sleeve.

The Master's fingers felt cool on McCoy's face but her mindtouch was swift and sharp like a thin needle flashing down. He gasped as she pierced the very core of him where the strands of the link lay reposed but she drew out just as swiftly and he heard her voice say, "This bonding is true."

She left a headache in her trail. McCoy rubbed his temples as V'Rhsal helped him up.

With a stoical expression, the Master said, "V'Rhsalkam and Makkoykam, thee are joined with thy family's consent in the presence of these two witnesses." Then she turned and left, her women a step behind.

McCoy found V'Rhsal's keen black eyes on him. "Did we pass?" he asked, feeling a little faint.

"I had no doubts, Leonard."

Kirk glanced at the closed door. "Is that it?"

"What do you mean, is that it? My God, you should have felt my end!" McCoy muttered.

Kirk's brow furrowed. "Bones, are you ok?"

"Oh, I'm ok. I'm just turning bloody cartwheels....someone drives a pickaxe through my head but I'm fine now...." he muttered as he plodded out the door. "...don't worry about me..."

Kirk went to follow but Spock's amused voice stopped him.

"Yes, he sounds perfectly normal."

---

Something buzzed in McCoy's head. He opened his eyes to find the wall less than an inch from his nose and an immovable weight at his back.

"Not again..." he grumbled. He tried to roll over. "Vulcan, wake up and move."

Without opening his eyes, V'Rhsal complied. "Leonard, answer the com-port."

McCoy sat up, reached across the Vulcan, then stopped. "You're closer."

"There is an eighty-six point three percent chance it is for you."

"Do you make these numbers up?" McCoy yawned as the message tape kicked in. When it clicked off, he tried to get back into his spot but found it occupied by a Vulcan who was half-asleep again.

"I've got it figured out."

"Pardon?" V'Rhsal opened his eyes.

McCoy sighed. "You're going after the warm spot in the bed, my warm spot."

V'Rhsal raised up, blinking. "I apologize."

"And well you should. I get the wind knocked out of me and I never have any room left by the time morning comes," the doctor admonished in mock severity.

V'Rhsal opened both eyes. "Are you always this pleasant in the morning?"

The doctor laughed, then kissed him. "I apologize too."

The kiss deepened. It was some time later when V'Rhsal said, "It is zero six thirty hours on your ship's time. You are due on board by thirteen thirty."

"How do you do that, know the time like that?"

"I would teach you but your mind is not ordered enough."

"Funny man." McCoy laid back, rubbing his eyes, then stretched languidly. V'Rhsal's hand brushed across the doctor's arm and came to rest on his chest.

there is something erotic in all this, leonard.

you admit to that?

i admit only the obvious.

hmm. look, vulcan, i've got a proposition. i'll teach you to respond a little more to your nerve endings and you teach me a little more logic and order. i want to out-logic this certain vulcan. it's a dream of mine

i see i will have an uphill battle. it is fortunate we have years in which to accomplish your aim.

we really are going to have to work on these jokes of yours.

PART THIRTY SEVEN

The Enterprise moved gracefully through the stars and all was in order. McCoy took a few hours to settle into his cabin before returning to sickbay. Some of V'Rhsal's clothes were still there and, as he hung them up, he reached inward and gently touched the Vulcan. They hadn't said goodbye. Under this system, they'd never parted.

Sickbay was muted. There were no patients, no lingering cases. Even the paperwork had been cleared. McCoy sat at his desk, seeing, for the first time, that the top of it was laminated and that he had a blotter. He turned on the terminal.

"Computer."

"Working."

"Log in. McCoy, Leonard, M.D. Chief Medical Officer."

"Working. McCoy, Leonard, M.D. Your file has been assigned to science department."

McCoy frowned. "Pardon?"

"Are you requesting further information?"

"Yes. Log me in as Chief Medical Officer."

"M'Benga, Geoffrey Richard, M.D. is Chief Medical Officer, U.S.S. Enterprise."

"He was the C.M.O. but now I'm here. Please correct the error."

"Working. McCoy, Leonard, M.D. Current status, assignment Science Department. Your Department Head is Captain Spock."

McCoy resisted an urge to hit the terminal. "Look, you pile of twisted microchips, I'm a physician. I belong in the medical department. Correct your files."

"There is no error in programming, McCoy, Leonard, M.D. Your status is active in the science department and you are three point four hours overdue for your shift. Please report to your department head immediately."

McCoy hit the intercom. "Bridge."

"Uhura here, doctor."

"Is the Captain up there?"

A moment later Kirk's voice sounded. "What is it, Bones? Can't find sickbay?"

"Jim, there's an error in the computer. It's got me down as working in Spock's department."

"Just a moment, Bones. I'll get it checked."

McCoy waited impatiently, listening to the sounds of the bridge over the line. Finally Kirk returned. "Bones, we put Starfleet docs direct into the personnel roster. They assigned you to sciences and I'll have to get clearance from head office before I can get it changed. In the meanwhile, enjoy your stint. Just a minute, Spock wants you."

The Vulcan's crisp tones came on. "Doctor McCoy, you are seriously overdue for your shift."

"Oh for pete's sake," McCoy started.

"Doctor, please report to second auxiliary science station," Spock said. "Lieutenant Sheffield is expecting you."

"You can't be serious," McCoy said.

"Bones, just wait it out until we get it fixed," Kirk said, sounding amused. "I'll get Uhura to send a message out pronto."

McCoy switched off the intercom. "Yeah...right..."

---

Second auxiliary science station was deep in the bottom of the starship, between auxiliary helm control and the food processors. It was a dismal, dusty place where all the old samples and files ended up for cataloguing and storage. Sheffield, a tall, pale man who looked like he belonged in a cave, welcomed McCoy happily.

"Isn't this something, doc? I finally got me some help down here."

"It's just temporary," McCoy mumbled, sneezing on the dust.

"I hope you've worn your old clothes. I've got me some grubby work today." Sheffield crawled into an access tube that served as overflow storage space. "We got ourselves a whole conglomerate of samples from the Denebian slime pits to put away. I've been just waiting for an extra hand to help me. Here!"

He threw something at McCoy who instinctively caught it. When he saw what it was, he wished he'd missed. He held a dead shell of a slime devil, a red, crab-like animal that smelled awful even before they died.

"I've got fifteen slime devils alone," Sheffield called out. "Babies, adults, all four genders. Man, we gonna have ourselves a good time today."

McCoy swallowed, then crawled in after Sheffield. "Well, fifteen isn't so bad."

Sheffield looked back at McCoy and laughed. "Sure, doc, fifteen of them. I also got me a family of Alderian Crust-Slugs, some Wango Biter Bats and a slew of Drip-Toed Worms. And that's just in the first lot."

He whistled as he climbed further and further up the shaft. McCoy, cursing, crawled more slowly, the slime devil under one arm. Three hours later he was completely covered in grey dust, shell fragments, and the web-like hair of the biter bats. The latter itched worse than anything he'd ever known. His head had stuffed completely to the point where a sneeze roared like a trumpet full of cotton.

"I have to...achoo!" McCoy sniffed. "I have to get a decongestant."

Sheffield shrugged. "You'll get used to this."

"Heaven forbid," McCoy, on hands and knees, started moving back the way he'd come.

"Don't let Mr. Spock catch you sneaking off-duty."

"You mean he'd better...ACHOO!...hope he doesn't get in my way," McCoy grumbled.

He was easing out of the tube, back-end first, with legs that felt as stiff as knotted pinewood, when he heard a soft chuckle.

"There's a view I don't see everyday."

McCoy straightened painfully and turned. Kirk and Spock were standing in the doorway. The Vulcan looked impassive as always but Kirk's face wore a wide grin.

"How's it going, Bones?"

"Very...ACHOO!" McCoy coughed some dust out. "Very funny! Are you both enjoying this?"

"As a matter of fact, we are." Kirk chuckled again.

Spock's eyes took on a decided glint. "Doctor, I trust you have tagged and stored the specimens in a manner to my satisfaction."

"You'll find them again, if that's what you mean," McCoy muttered. He pulled a long strand of bat hair from his tongue as he tried to swallow the rest of the hairball away.

"You'll be happy to know that we've got the clerical error straightened out," Kirk said. "I'll be booking you in as C.M.O. first thing tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" McCoy glared. "Why tomorrow?"

"Since you've started, you may as well finish out the shift," Kirk said. "Lt. Sheffield is long overdue to have a little help down here."

McCoy felt a dig of suspicion. "Both of you appear to be highly enjoying this."

Kirk leant against the doorjamb, arms folded across his chest. Spock looked innocent, as if a halo sat on his eartips. The Vulcan said, "Doctor, I trust the next time a report is due, you will deliver it to me on a labelled tape."

McCoy blinked. "Spock, that was three years ago!"

Kirk cut in. "And, McCoy, the next time you give a vaccine to Spock, I hope you use his arm."

McCoy buried his face in his hands and immediately regretted it as another hairball went up his nose.

"Doctor, you still have forty-five point seven eight minutes left on your shift."

McCoy glowered at the Vulcan and mumbled something.

"What was that, Bones?" Kirk asked pleasantly.

"I said," McCoy clenched his teeth, "Yes, sir." He turned and crawled back up the tube.

"Happy cataloguing!" Kirk called after him. A mumble came back to him. He glanced at the Vulcan, then sighed. "You know, Spock, I have a feeling we may come to regret this."

end