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"Captain's log, stardate 5040.7. We reached our desired destination,
Starbase 4, two days ago and delivered the children of a scientific colony on Triacus - the last survivors of that doomed endeavour - to the authorities. As well as doing some minor repairs and refilling ship's supplies, I ordered an additional layover time and shoreleave for the crew for one standard day before we resume our patrol. End log entry."
Captain James T. Kirk ended the log and leaned back in his seat, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. He heard movement beside him and turned to see Spock stepping down from the upper bridge level to stand beside his chair. The Vulcan's face remained impassive, as always, just an elevated eyebrow hinted at his curiosity.
"Is something amiss, Captain? You seem to be contemplating a problem."
Kirk turned his attention back to the view-screen that showed the peaceful image of Starbase 4 hovering in orbit around planet Eto'Naruh. "No, not a problem Mr. Spock. I have been thinking about the children of these scientists on Triacus. About their past and future."
Spock tilted his head to one side. "I believe it is safe to assume that the authorities will contact the relatives of the children and make sure they are reunited with their families."
Kirk nodded. "Yes, of course you are correct, but that's not what I meant."
Spock turned fully to look at his captain. "Specify."
Kirk folded his arms in front of his chest. "Well, think about it. These scientists took their spouses and children with them to live on an alien planet to keep their families together, assuming their lives would be less disrupted. Had they not taken the children to the planet, the evil wouldn't have found a catalyst and the scientists would have simply returned to their families when their work was done instead of being killed."
The turbolift doors opened and a yeoman entered the bridge, stepped up to the captain's chair and handed him a PADD. He turned to her briefly, thanked her with a smile and dismissed her with a brief nod. He glanced at the PADD and then laid it in his lap to review later. He turned his attention back to Spock who watched him with a thoughtful expression. Kirk smiled lightly. He could almost hear the sound of the hundreds of evaluations taking place in the Vulcan's brain. Spock was looking for all the galaxy like he did when he was waiting for information from one of his computers.
After a few seconds the Vulcan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, crossed his arms in front of his chest, a small crease forming between his eyebrows. In the years they had served together Kirk had learned to read his friend well, knowing by posture and gesture that Spock had not reached a satisfying conclusion. Were he a computer instead of a man of flesh and blood he might as well have said 'insufficient data to compute.'
"I do not think I am following your evaluations, Captain," Spock said in a more human fashion and waited for an explanation.
"Well, there is no scientific analysis in my thoughts, Spock. I was just thinking of the cruel irony that made things turn out the way it did. Although they weren't aware of it they did exactly what they wanted to prevent - the separation of their families with tragic consequences for themselves in the end."
Spock nodded slightly. "I see what you mean, Captain. However, I can see no flaw in the scientists' decision to relocate their families. Since they were unaware of future events there was no actual 'right' or 'wrong' decision for them to make. They made the logical choice."
Kirk sighed. "Yes, of course. Tragedy can strike anywhere."
Spock bowed his head. "Indeed, Captain."
"Did your parents take you off Vulcan on your father's diplomatic missions when you were a child?" Kirk asked to change the topic.
Spock looked up. "Affirmative. Occasionally they did and I found myself benefiting greatly from these experiences."
Kirk laughed. "Okay. Point taken. I'm glad they made the logical decision too or else you might not have developed such an interest in space and might not be standing here with me, offering your valued input."
Spock did not smile, but his eyes glinted. "A wide speculation, Captain. But accurate to some extent."
"All right, then keep the reason for joining a secret," Kirk muttered, but by his expression and tone both men knew his mood was light.
Spock nodded. "Captain," he acknowledged and then returned to his post while Kirk picked up the PADD and began browsing through the displayed information.
Some time later, Spock reviewed another section of the scientific logs the Triacus team had recorded. Their findings coincided remarkably with the legends concerning the former inhabitants of the planet, many of them supporting the theory that they had been marauders. The team had excavated various artefacts of different origins as well as the remnants of many individuals yet unidentified - probably former inhabitants of neighbouring solar systems. Why they had been found on Triacus remained a mystery. The bones showed no signs of damage or malnutrition so they did not die by force or starved to death. They could also not find any cuts or other damage that would indicate that these individuals were used for food. Instead, the only damage that was found were old wounds that had healed before the individuals had died. Why had they stayed on the planet? Had they been allies, slaves or prisoners?
The sound of someone clearing his throat beside him interrupted Spock’s thoughts and caused him to look up from the scanner. He straightened abruptly and clasped his hands behind his back, suppressing the feeling of embarrassment about being inattentive to his surroundings. "Sir?" he acknowledged.
Kirk smiled. "I just received the shore-leave schedule. We'll be beaming down port side sections first. Do you have any preferences which section you will be joining? You will also have a choice of Star-base or planetary leave."
As expected, Spock shook his head. "I am not in need of rest as you humans define it, Captain. With your permission I would rather stay aboard and continue to review the logs of the Triacus teams, as well as assisting the cataloguing process of the artifacts we have beamed aboard."
"Permission denied, First Officer," Kirk said as he tried to maintain a neutral expression.
Spock's brows shot up in surprise. His captain had never disregarded his preferences in this matter before. "May I ask the reason for your decision, Captain?"
Kirk finally lost the battle and grinned. "Yes, you may," he said and lifted the PADD he held in his hand. Spock saw it was the same that the yeoman had handed Kirk earlier. The one that contained the standard statistical evaluation data Starfleet collected to evaluate the use of their star bases. "This is the list of the ships that are currently docked at the station, as well as a brief overview of personnel and passengers aboard," the Captain explained unnecessarily. Unbeknownst to himself the concentration crease re-appeared between Spock's brows, while he was trying to correlate that data with the captain's denial of his wishes.
"I found out there is a person aboard a small passenger vessel that you might want to meet," Kirk continued with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "Consider it an order."
Spock took the offered pad and skimmed the list of names until he found one that surprised him. When he lifted his gaze to look at Kirk again, a warm glow shone in his eyes. "Yes, sir. I shall make the proper arrangements to meet with her. I was not aware she would be here."
"Neither was I," Kirk answered. "Send my greetings to her. I'd be happy to welcome her aboard. Let me know if she'd like to come."
Spock nodded. "I will, sir. Thank you for making me aware of her presence, Jim," he added with a lower voice.
"Enjoy yourself," Kirk answered and took the PADD back before he headed for the turbolift to enjoy his own shore leave. "Mr. DeSalle, you have the con," he said before the lift doors closed.
Spock stood in the transporter room and waited patiently until the groups preceding him beamed down. His sensitive hearing caught a sound outside in the corridor and he blinked twice rapidly, his only outward sign of dismay. A few seconds later the doors of the transporter room opened and McCoy entered, happily whistling a tune. His gaze travelled over the assembled people and he drew out the note he was just whistling unnecessarily long when he spotted Spock. Letting the note end in a questioning high pitch, he made a beeline to the person he had least expected to see in the transporter room. He stood beside Spock.
"Well, I'll be damned," he said in his low southern drawl. "That really you Spock?" he said and let his gaze glide up and down the length of the Vulcan, who was clad in civilian clothing.
"Obviously, Doctor," Spock answered, his tone not showing his annoyance.
"Yeah, I see," McCoy said. "And you seem to be beamin' down? Lost some fancy doohickey out of one of them huge boxes we beamed up from Triacus? Or are you – lord behold – going down to enjoy yourself?!”
"Doctor, please.," Spock said, hoping the good doctor would cease his questioning. He felt flushed for a moment, his irritation obviously affecting him, so he controlled it.
"Ah, c'mon, Spock," he prodded. "Since the crisis' been over you ain't done nothin' but nose through those boxes and tinker with that crap. You haven't even touched food in the last few days."
"I did not feel the need for sustenance. And the content of these boxes are artifacts. I have been examining and cataloguing this 'crap' as you call it, in an endeavour to assist science to understand and reconstruct the sociological makeup of this area at that time..."
McCoy waved him off. "All right, Spock, all right. But ya must admit you're not usually the first person leavin' the ship when shore leave is called. It's only 'logical' of me to notice the exception," he said with a devilish grin.
Spock sighed. McCoy would not let him off the hook so there was no logical alternative but to reveal his plans. "If you must know, I plan to meet with my mother."
McCoy's blue eyes lit up and he smiled with genuine warmth. "Oh, I had no idea she's here, Spock."
"Neither had I, Doctor."
"Well, you should invite her aboard . I'd like to meet her again. I'm sure Jim wouldn't mind if you brought her."
Spock inclined his head. "He has already extended his invitation. I shall give her your greetings as well."
"You'd better, Spock." McCoy answered and wagged a finger at him. Movement at the transporter pad caught his attention and he took a quick glance in that direction before turning back to Spock. "Too bad you're several groups ahead of me or I'd make sure you don't forget."
Spock raised a brow. "Yes, too bad," he said so softly that only McCoy could hear and was pleased to see the doctor's eyes widen by a fraction.
Well, what'd'ya know, he finally bites back," McCoy said and winked. "Good for you. Enjoy your stay and tell Amanda we'd very much like her to join us for dinner."
Spock nodded while he stepped to the transport pad. "Take satisfaction in your stay, Doctor."
McCoy's eyes glinted with mischief. "You bet. I just know this cute little place . You sure ya don't want to meet later?"
Spock lifted an eyebrow. "I would rather not, thank you."
McCoy laughed. "See ya, Spock." And then he vanished from Spock's sight when the transporter was activated and he was sent down to the planet's surface in a sparkle of light.
Amanda squinted into the bright light of Eto'Naruh's binary star. She put on her sun glasses and her vision darkened to a tolerable level. Still she held a hand up to shield her eyes when the sparkle at the transporter station indicated another group of people arriving from the Enterprise.
When they materialized she couldn't see her son among them and sighed. The sun was getting quite warm. 'Now wait a minute,' she thought when a tall figure made its way over to the bench she was sitting on. She took off her glasses and squinted. When the man came closer she recognized familiar and very dear features and a wide, warm smile spread over her face. She got up, her hands extended. "Spock," she exclaimed warmly.
"Mother," he said, returning her greeting with his deep smooth voice.
Oh how good it was to hear it again, although they had just met a few months ago. "My son," she whispered, took his hands and squeezed them tight. Noticing members of his crew were still present, she didn't hug him so she wouldn't embarrass him. She stepped back, but continued to hold his hands.
"Now look at you." She admired him in his black flowing pants and shiny brown tunic with Vulcan writing embroidered down the chest. "I didn't even recognize you in civilian clothing." She winked at him. "You're stunning," she said softly.
His eyebrow climbed his forehead. "I hardly believe your assessment is accurate."
Amanda laughed. "Leave that evaluation to me, dear. I might be biased, but I'm not blind."
Spock inclined his head in obedience and she took his arm and led him away from the transporter pad. For a while they walked through the sun-flooded park in the inner city of the planet's capital, the path constructed by smooth stones leading them through greenish-blue meadows and places shaded by large mushroom-like trees. They spoke about the months that had passed since their last meeting on the Babel mission and Spock was pleased to hear that Sarek's health had improved to the point that he could resume his position as ambassador.
After they walked a while Amanda led him to a far corner of the park. "You must see this restaurant," she told him. "It's so extraordinary and the food is excellent."
As it turned out, the restaurant was no ordinary building, but an open air dining place of unique design. In the centre of the circular array resided a huge tree trunk, several meters in diameter, its hollow inside having enough room for the kitchen. All around the centre, thick branches spread out, forming half open, circular spaces, the abundance of lush, bluish-green leaves acting like a wall, making each of the units a separated, private place. The floor of each unit was covered with thinner branches covered heavy yellow blossoms whose unobtrusive fragrance filled the air. Each booth was placed where the blossoms were not as thick. There were soft cushions to sit on and a low table set between them, never disturbing the plant life surrounding it. They choose a booth facing a small lagoon and ordered dinner.
Spock looked around him at the high walls consisting of branches and leaves. "This is an curious structure."
Amanda nodded enthusiastically and swallowed a sip of the beverages they ordered. "Yes. And you know what? This whole place is actually one single plant. Isn't that amazing?"
Spock nodded. "Fascinating." His brows drew together a fraction when the leaves rustled slightly.
Amanda smiled. "You haven't even seen the best," she said. "When it's evening the leaves spread out to form a roof to protect the blossoms on the floor. That makes practically each booth a separate dining room.
Spock wanted to reply, but a soft chime announced their food was served. They set to eat and Amanda continued tell him about what she'd been up to these past months while he consumed his meal in quiet Vulcan fashion. She also told him that she would not be able to attend dinner on the Enterprise, as she was leaving in the morning. The ship had only stopped for two days to take on new passengers before moving on to the next port of call.
Amanda had never been one to approve of the Vulcan habit of silence during eating, so she chatted on and Spock listened. Even though he had not eaten for several days, he did not feel particularly hungry and although he regretted to waste food he set his fork aside, his plate still containing some baked vegetables.
"I noticed you took a small passenger ship to return to Vulcan. May I ask why?"
Amanda waved her fork. "You know, when you've attended endless functions with overly polite people, taking meticulous care with their speech so you don't know what they are really thinking, you wish for some honest company once in a while. And the best place to get that is an ordinary passenger vessel. Of course your father disapproved. He will be detained for two weeks. That's why I'm going home alone. Someone must oversee the harvest of the southern plains, you know."
Spock nodded. The harvest in that area of the estate had always been under her supervision so it would be logical to assume she wished to fulfill her role this season as well.
"Anyway, your father would have preferred to ship me with the next express courier shuttle. When I conceded to having some security people accompany me, he agreed to the slower transport."
"I could investigate the option to reroute the Enterprise to Vulcan," Spock offered. "You could travel more comfortably on the ship."
Amanda lifted a hand. "No, no. Thank you dear, but I'm quite satisfied with my transport. You meet the most interesting people on these ships."
Spock raised a brow. "Indeed." He looked around. "I do not see any security with you now, though. Where are they?"
Amanda took a look at his plate. "You don't tell me you're not going to finish this."
"I am not," he said. "You did not answer my question."
"Really, Spock. You must eat more. You are so thin," she said and forked a piece of vegetable from his plate, offering him the piece.
He shook his head. "Mother," he started impatiently.
Amanda shrugged and popped the piece in her mouth. After she had thoroughly chewed and swallowed it she noticed his impatient glance. "Okay. Well, I told them I had an excellent guard tonight. Who would be better suited than a trained Starfleet officer? Your martial arts education is at least as good as theirs, if not better."
Spock nodded. "Logical."
Amanda grinned mischievously. " I learned my share over the years."
She stole another bite from his plate and enjoyed the warm rays of the suns on her skin. She cast another look at Spock and her chewing slowed a bit in concern. Was it just the light or was his face a bit flushed? That reminded her of what she had done to him a few months earlier. After she slapped him his face had shown the same colour as it did now. He regarded her curiously, seeing her change of expression.
"Is something amiss, Mother?"
Amanda looked down, then took her napkin and wiped her mouth sedately to buy some time to compose her thoughts. "Well, yes," she said, barely able to look at him. "There is something that is bothering me since our last encounter and I wish to tell you." She faltered and looked up at him. His curious expression had not changed. On an impulse she reached over the table and took hold of one of his hands. It felt very warm.
"I should never have slapped you, Spock. I am so sorry," she blurted out.
To her surprise Spock did not retract his hand but turned it to hold her hand with his. "You need not concern yourself with it further."
"Why?"
Spock nodded. "No permanent damage was done. It is of no consequence."
"For me it is," Amanda said. She started briefly; his hand felt very warm indeed.
Spock seemed not to notice her momentary distraction. "You were distressed, quite understandably so. I could not help you and this distressed you further. The cause was sufficient."
Amanda scoffed. "Would that also apply if I were Vulcan?"
Spock shook his head. "Of course not."
"So why make excuses for me then?"
"I do not. It is your nature - your emotions. You have not learned to control them as Vulcans have; therefore it would be illogical to expect you to react the same."
"Logical from your point of view," Amanda sighed. "But not from mine. It should not have happened. I am truly and deeply sorry."
"It is forgotten," Spock said. "We shall not speak about it further."
Amanda gave him a half smile, her remorse still not eased completely. "If that is your wish."
Spock nodded again. "It is."
He placed his other hand over hers and she frowned, regarding him closely. "Spock, are you feeling all right? Your hands feel very warm, as if you had a fever." She slid her hand out from his and reached for his forehead. Before she could touch it, however, he leaned back.
"Mother, please."
"Oh come on, Spock, Don't fuss like a child and let your mother check your temperature."
She reached for him again but he caught her hand. "I am no longer a child and I assure you that is not necessary. It is the intensity of the suns' rays that gives you the impression that my temperature is elevated."
"Well, it should affect me more than you."
"No, the foliage on your side provides 31.45 percent increased sun protection, compared to mine."
Amanda did not feel satisfied by his explanation. It was not that she doubted the accurateness of his computations or would ever bother to comped with her son on a mathematical level. She knew for a fact, though, that Vulcans could control their body temperature down to fractions of degrees and he'd not consciously forego this skill. He was not a boy anymore, though. If he decided not to tell her what was wrong with him she wouldn't stand a chance to push him to admit it. Her worried-mother feelings refused to vanish nevertheless.
"I am not in distress," he said, although admitting to himself that he felt warmer than usual. However, he was indeed exposed to the suns, the rays of the binary system being very warm on his entire body and he had to summon his bio controls to keep his core temperature in acceptable levels.
"Promise me, you will take care of yourself," Amanda said and squeezed his hand.
He nodded. "I will."
They spend another half hour in the restaurant, then he walked her back to the beam-up place where they said their farewells.
After she vanished Spock took a last look around. He still had a few minutes left before his scheduled return to the Enterprise. He walked to the bench Amanda had sat on when he arrived and sat down to watch the sunset. The suns of Eto'Naruh just dipped below the horizon and in a matter of minutes, they were gone. A cool breeze washed over the small plateau, feeling almost refreshingly good. A few seconds later his communicator bleeped. It was time to return to the Enterprise. He got up and positioned himself on the transport pad. Just before the beam whisked him away he felt another odd wave of heat wash over him.
The next day Spock sat at the desk in his quarters. His screen tied into the main viewer on the bridge, he watched as the Enterprise left orbit around Eto'Naruh and veered off into deep space to pick up her former patrol assignment. His inner time sense told him he had three point three minutes left until Jim got off duty and would follow his routine of coming by his cabin and take him to dinner. Occasionally they would also have a chess game afterwards.
He had no need for food and would have preferred the solitude of his quarters, but he did not wish to alarm Jim to his condition so he got up. He swallowed convulsively to ease the sensation of nausea. His condition had changed since this morning, but it had hardly improved. The heat waves had been replaced by occasional sensations of vertigo. He was not worried about having contracted a disease on Eto'Naruh, because, upon further analysis, he noticed he had experienced the heat waves before arriving there. He came to the conclusion that he probably suffered from a mild infection that did not require immediate medical attention. Logically he would refrain from demanding medical attention as long as his condition did not interfere with his work. As of now he had managed to suppress it during work hours.
Still, he could not deny a certain unease because he was not able to identify the cause of his condition. Nevertheless, as long as he felt fit for duty there was no need to alarm the captain or Dr. McCoy. Dismissing the thought for the time being, he reached for his uniform tunic and pulled it back over his head and wrested his controls back into place. When he left his cabin, Kirk was standing outside his door.
"Captain," he acknowledged.
Kirk stepped back. "Sorry, Spock. I'm a bit early. Ready for dinner?"
Spock inclined his head and after the door to his cabin closed the sound of two sets of boots grew faint as the two officers walked down the corridor.
One hour later only the sound of one set of steps returned, more slowly than before. The door opened and the tall silhouette of the first officer was outlined against the light of the corridor. As soon as he crossed the threshold the lights in his cabin came on. Spock stepped inside and when the door closed he leaned against it, shivering lightly.
"Computer, increase temperature by five point five degrees Celsius," he ordered.
"Acknowledged," replied the computer and Spock's fine hearing noticed an increase of sounds coming from the heating units. He remained standing by the door for a moment and noticed an unusual weariness in his muscles as well as shortness of breath. With dismay he noticed the continuing deterioration of his physical health.
He walked over to his desk and called up messages. He spotted a new report about the Triacus artifacts and felt an intellectual desire to review the reports, but when he sat down to read them he found that he could not concentrate. A spike of frustration penetrated his weariness. Since he wasn't able to work productively, he switched off the monitor, contemplating the option of meditation before retiring. He was aware though, that his body demanded more rest than his mind and so he made the decision to let his body rest and postpone meditation until the next day. Surely his body would have recovered until then.
Spock awoke with a start. Something was amiss. His time sense told him it was well into the ship's night and he had several hours of rest-period left before his next duty shift. It was most unusual for him to wake up prior to his customary rising time. He wondered what had awakened him and then remembered he'd had a most curious dream and recalled it. He had been back on Eto'Naruh, in that restaurant together with Amanda. He had sat there and listened to her talking and gradually her voice became slower and muffled. At first he could not find a reason for that being so, until his sight vanished in a green haze. Only then did he notice that the branches of the giant plant that formed a sheltering roof began to grow around him, closer and closer, their leaves blinding and smothering him with heat. He wanted to call out to tell his mother, but he could not breathe. The pressure increased and panic set in and he lashed out blindly.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Computer, lights - twenty percent," he ordered and the room filled with a soft glow. Spock squinted even in the low light and looked around. Beside his bed lay his desert ceremonial knife he had received in preparation of his khas-wan, the maturity test for Vulcan children. Only those who passed the test were allowed to keep the weapon afterwards and he kept it on the shelf behind the headboard of his bed so it would be close while he rested - as it was in ancient times. Now he found it lying on the floor. He also noticed the red draperies over the shelf were in disarray. So he had not only dreamed lashing out. He must have sent the knife flying to the floor himself. He snuck out a hand from under his blanket and picked it up to lay it back on the shelf.
He increased the light intensity in his room and sat up. When the blanket fell from his shoulders sharp cold hit him and he frowned. He laid down the desert knife and touched his shirt; it was soaking wet. His bedding was soaked as well. He shivered. Could it be attributed to the dream? He had seldom been known to perspire, but even Vulcans experienced nightmares, although they were rare. Or was it another item to be listed as the symptom of a possible infection? He mentally checked for other symptoms besides the heat and vertigo, but he was cold and when he got up he did not feel unsteady on his feet. He decided to dismiss the incident for now and examine the matter closer during his next meditation period in the morning.
After he took a sonic shower, changed his nightwear and bedclothes, he lay down under the sheets again, still lightly shivering. He ordered the computer to increase the temperature further and gradually he relaxed when the cold left his body and he fell back into a light sleep.
Captain Kirk sat in his command chair, reviewing another PADD. 'Couldn't have gotten more paperwork if I had become an attorney,' he thought sourly and signed the PADD only to grab the next. He noticed the sound of the turbolift doors opening. 'Ah, Spock!' he thought and started talking without looking up.
"Mr. Spock, I have some PADDs for you to co-sign. " He stopped when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a set of boots beside his chair. He frowned. These boots were too small; they couldn't possibly be Spock's. He lifted his gaze and Yeoman Lacroix was standing beside him with his cup of morning coffee. But Spock usually tended to arrive before the yeoman and even earlier than his duty shift actually began. He could be quite possessive of 'his' instruments and if someone made an adjustment he felt compelled to re-calibrate the apparatus to his satisfaction before setting to work.
Noticing the yeoman's questioning gaze at his hesitation, Kirk took the offered cup and set it on the armrest of his chair. "Thank you, Yeoman. Dismissed."
She nodded and walked back to the turbolift. Kirk glanced at the chronometer and noticed Spock was indeed later than usual, but not yet late for his shift.
Yeoman Lacroix gasped slightly and Kirk looked up to see her almost colliding with the first officer, as Spock left the turbolift.
"Excuse me, sir," she said and squeezed past him.
Spock nodded to her and then to his captain, ignoring Kirk's confused expression while he went to his station. Kirk dismissed the issue for the time being. Spock seemed to be eager to start his work and there was no need to reprimand him. He wasn't late after all and the teasing could wait. 'About two minutes,' he thought and grinned. He'd give Spock that long to 'catch his breath'. He couldn't know the Vulcan was doing just that.
After the promised two minutes passed he got up, no longer able to contain himself. Tucking the PADDs under his arm he casually strolled to Spock's station.
Spock looked up when Kirk came to stand beside him and the gleeful smile vanished from the captain's lips when he saw his first officer up close. Spock did not look good. 'No, not at all,' he thought, his concern growing. Spock's eyes were dark rimmed, as if he lacked sleep. But what was more alarming was the fact that a visible layer of perspiration covered the Vulcan's forehead and upper lip. That was not only unusual, but alarming.
"Captain?" Spock asked, ignoring his friend's concerned expression. "Did you want something of me?"
Kirk nodded and glanced briefly at the PADDs. "Uh, yes, Mr. Spock. I need you to sign these, but..."
"Very well, sir," Spock reached for the PADDs, but Kirk held them out of his reach.
"Not so fast, Spock. What's going on here?"
"Sir?" Spock asked innocently.
Kirk circled behind Spock's chair to stand on the other side of him, shielding them from the rest of the bridge crew. "You heard me. What's going on? First you decline our chess game for the third time in a row; plus you've been picking at your food for the past two days. I had dismissed it being your usual over-efficiency while studying these artifacts, but your odd behaviour hasn't stopped. You arrived late this morning."
"Not correct, sir. I started my duty shift as required."
Kirk shook his head. "You and I both know what I am talking about. You always come before you're required to, but not today."
Spock sighed. "I…was delayed this morning," he finally admitted.
"I see. Were you in too much in a hurry to take a look in the mirror?"
Spock seemed intent on playing dumb. "I was not aware my attire was amiss."
The muscles in Kirk's jaw stood out visibly, Spock's stubbornness and concern for his friend was gnawing at his patience. "Stop trying to fool me, Mister. That's an order." Then he continued in a gentler voice. "You look sick, Spock. You seem fatigued and you're sweating," Spock started to answer but Kirk cut him off. "I suggest you report to sickbay."
Spock nodded in defeat. "As you wish, sir. I shall do so once my duty shift is over."
"I meant now, Spock," Kirk said. His voice held a sharp undertone as his responsibility as captain overruled their friendship. He leaned a bit closer. "Don't force me to make it an order."
Spock looked at Kirk and knew there was no way of resisting once the captain had slipped into command mode. So he yielded to the logic of the situation and got up. "Very well, sir."
When he was alone in the turbolift on his way to sickbay, Spock closed his eyes briefly and opened them abruptly again as another wave of vertigo hit him, accompanied by a sudden chill. When he was on the bridge a moment ago, he had felt quite hot. His weakened controls allowed the feeling of embarrassment to wash over him when he recognized how right Jim had been to send him off the bridge. Due to his awakening late this morning, he had not been able to meditate properly and his controls were failing him. After rushing to reach the bridge in time, he spent a few seconds slowing his heart rate and breathing. Once he had, though, the symptoms had hit him hard.. As a responsible officer he should have reported to sickbay in the first place. Kaiidth, it was now done. The lift arrived at the specified deck and spared him further musings. Before the doors opened he smoothed his uniform shirt and wiped his forehead with his sleeve to remove the last of the sweat from his brow. When the door opened he strode down the corridor, hands clasped behind his back, mentally bracing himself for an encounter with McCoy.
The sound of breaking glass filled McCoy's small office and the doctor glanced up from his desk that was cluttered with report chips and test results. He got up to see which one of the beakers he had killed by pushing a chart away from him, sending the glass bottle over the edge of the desk.
He didn't need to pick up the piece with the label on it, but smelled the contents of the bottle. "Aw, crap," he said when his dread was confirmed. He had destroyed the sample Scott delivered this morning. Although officially forbidden, but secretly tolerated, the engineers hid a small still somewhere in their section and Scott provided the doctor with samples once in a while. By the odour, this batch would have been good. Now he would have to ask Scotty for another. His intercom whistled and he flipped a switch to take the call. "Sickbay, McCoy," he said curtly.
"Bones, listen. Spock is on his way to sickbay. I want you to examine him thoroughly."
McCoy made a surprised face. "Oh, he is? Without an escort to make sure he's showin' up? Ya know it usually takes a bunch of mules to haul him in. C'mon, Jim. You're pulling my leg, aren't ya?"
"I'm not, Doctor. Make sure you give him a good check-up and then report to me on the double."
McCoy frowned and the captain's concerned tone made the playful smile vanish from the doctor's lips. "Is it an emergency, Jim?"
"Not yet, Bones, but he isn't doing well. I expect your report as soon as possible."
"Yes, sir," McCoy answered, all business.
He leaned against his desk briefly, wondering about Jim's manner. If he was that curt there must really be reason for concern. He'd best prepare for the arrival of his patient. He went over to the examination room prepared a biobed and calibrated it for Spock's metabolism so that it wouldn't go all nuts when the Vulcan was scanned, although he hardly expected normal readings after Jim's urgent call. He had not yet finished his task when the sickbay doors opened and he heard Spock's familiar step entering the room.
"C'mon in Spock. I'll be with you in a second. Jim told me you'd pay me a visit. I could hardly believe it."
"Yet here I am," Spock answered and the hoarse sound of his voice made McCoy look up.
The doctor didn't like what he saw. Spock looked indeed tired, dark circles under his eyes and the slight trace of perspiration on his forehead didn't bode well. All playful manner forgotten McCoy padded the biobed. "Hop on so that I can see what's wrong with you, Spock," he said. His medical training kicked in and he already began to assess his patient while he watched the Vulcan getting slowly on the bed. He activated the scanner and watched the machine go nuts with blinking lights and alarms as if he hadn't made any alterations. He sighed. "All right, Spock, let's find out what's bothering you."
A while later McCoy sat in his office and reviewed Spock's chart, still trying to figure out what was wrong with the Vulcan. He heard the door to sickbay open and listened briefly. He didn't need to look up to know it was Jim who first looked in the examination room and then the ward, searching for Spock.
"In here, Jim," McCoy called. When Jim entered his office, McCoy noticed the deep frown on Jim's face.
"Where's Spock? Didn't I ask you to report to me?" he said in an irritated tone.
"Wish I could give ya somethin', Jim, but as of yet there's nothing conclusive to report. I haven't yet found out what's makin' him sick."
Kirk's frown deepened. "What do you mean? Explain."
McCoy leaned back in his seat and motioned to a chair. The captain waved him off. "Well," he started slowly. "Your first officer is suffering from an infection. I identified the typical symptoms: fever, fatigue, elevated white cell count, but I haven't identified the cause of the infection yet."
"Where is he now?"
"I sent him to his quarters."
"Without knowing what he has? Maybe it's contagious."
McCoy nodded. "Yes, maybe. But he says he's had the symptoms for several days, so if it were contagious he'd have spread it throughout the ship by now anyway." He made a wide gesture with his arms to stress his point. "And ya know Spock, so I sent him to his quarters to stay there until I have his detailed blood results back. Puttin' him in more stress by keepin' him here won't help matters. I gave him a med-patch. It's feedin' his vitals into my computer at all times."
"I see. I take it he's at least confined to his quarters?"
McCoy nodded, but his thoughts were already elsewhere. He got up and paced the small office, hitting his flat hand with a fist. "If I just knew what's wrong with him, Jim! I ran every quick test I could. Nothin'! I even went back to a good ol' country doctor examination with stethoscope and reflex testing, during which your first officer accused me of not bein' any better than a 19th century medicine man with beads and rattles to assist me."
Kirk smiled lightly. "Well, at least his sarcasm is intact which is probably a good sign."
McCoy scoffed. "Now, don't ya defend him." He paused a second and then made a helpless gesture. "But then I have'ta admit he's right. After all, I'm not any closer to findin' out what's wrong with him." He sighed audibly. “I also drew blood for an extended blood panel. Hope this turns up some result. Otherwise...” he trailed off for a moment. “I tell ya, Jim, treating the first Vulcan-Human hybrid is more of a curse than an exciting case. He doesn't react like anyone else."
"He's not anyone else, Bones," Kirk gently reminded him. "Lets wait for the results of his extended blood test," he added in a comforting tone.
McCoy nodded. "Yes. Let's hope somethin' turns up." He rubbed his chin. "Several days, several days… I have ruled out everything with the same symptoms that wouldn't have worsened or caused additional problems by now.
Kirk frowned. "Several days, you say?"
"Yes, I thought he's just doin' the overly-efficient thing again and watching over these artifacts like a mother hen, not touching food nor resting. But he said he's had the symptoms for several days, so it's not that."
Kirk got up. "Do you think he could have contracted it somewhere?"
McCoy shrugged. "Anything is possible. Can't have happened on Eto'Naru, though. He says he's had it before he beamed down, but it was so subtle he didn't act on it. Damned stubborn Vulcan should've come to me in the first place."
Kirk nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe he caught it on Triacus?"
"Unlikely that he's the only one then. It would also mean an awfully long incubation period for most of the type of infections that could cause such symptoms, but you actually have a point there, Jim. Maybe we should check with the star base to see if anyone's shown the same symptoms?"
Kirk nodded. "I will. It could take some hours to receive an answer though. The star base reported an ion storm shortly after we left. Don't let Spock wander around until we know more," he said, leaving McCoy's office on his way to the bridge.
"Sure won't," McCoy called back, but the doors had already closed behind the captain.
"Come," Spock called. The door slid open and Spock peered around the edge of his sleeping alcove to see the identity of his visitor. Recognizing McCoy he lay back on his bed. "Come in, Doctor."
McCoy wiped a hand over his forehead. "Geez, Spock. It's hot as hell in here. Not been inside for ten seconds an' sweaty already. Care to tell me how I'm supposed to tell whether or not I already caught whatever bugs you're breedin'?"
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I fail to see why you have come at all, Doctor since I am wearing the med-patch. You must be aware my condition has not changed," Spock replied.
"Well, it's called 'house call', Spock. I'm your doctor. It's as much my job as holdin' the scanner over you. Besides, I don't trust these machines. I'd like to check on you myself."
"As you wish," Spock replied, draping an arm over his eyes.
Spock's quick defeat alarmed McCoy and he stepped closer. "C'mon, Spock. It won't take long. Please sit up for me."
Spock sighed, but then did as he was told. He raised an eyebrow when spotting the item McCoy took out of his medical bag. "Back to beads and rattles, Doctor?"
McCoy gave him a pained look. "Now you be nice or I'll give ya some of my potions," he threatened, knowing the effect most drugs had on the Vulcan's stomach. Spock's brow kept its position, highly perched on his forehead, but he didn't comment further. McCoy placed the stethoscope around his neck to get it out of the way and then felt the Vulcan's neck for increased swelling of the lymph nodes. He didn't find any change there either. They were as swollen as before. He placed the stethoscope in his ears. "Please take off your shirt so I can listen to your lungs again."
"We have been through this before. It is not necessary to repeat the procedure."
"Poppycock! Who's the doctor here? I'll tell ya what's necessary and what not. Now quit back-talkin' me!" McCoy barked.
Spock gave in and McCoy listened intently to his breathing for several minutes, then moved the stethoscope to the Vulcan's back and instructed him to take deep breaths again. Spock scratched his chest.
"Stop that, "McCoy ordered. "I can't hear anything but your scratchin'."
Spock's hand sank obediently back into his lap and the doctor continued his examination.
"I should have known," the doctor said after a while. "Should be a fortune teller."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Please elaborate," he said and scratched the same spot on his chest again that had bothered him all through McCoy's examination.
"You've developed a low rattle in your lungs, Spock," McCoy said and rummaged around his bag.
"May I conclude that you found the cause for my illness then?"
McCoy loaded a hypo. "No, not quite. If this had been your primary problem it would've shown up earlier. This must be some secondary infection - a side effect of what you're havin'. And you see the med-patch didn't pick up on it yet. This is what house calls are for, Spock."
Spock sighed. "So you are not closer to a conclusion than before?"
"No, but the results of your blood test still aren't back yet. I'm sure we'll find more clues there."
"If you say so," Spock said and watched as McCoy pressed the hypo to his arm.
"This ought to take care of the lung congestion," McCoy said and watched while Spock reached for his chest again to scratch. "What'cha doin' there, Spock?"
"My chest itches, doctor."
McCoy made a face. "Oh, really? Do go on? I can see that! You've been scratchin' there for quite a while. Let me see." He extended a hand and Spock flinched when he touched his chest. He felt several small bumps. He looked closer, but couldn't see much in the red light of the cabin.
"Computer, standard Earth day light," he ordered and the light in the cabin changed from red to white.
Spock squinted, while McCoy's eyes grew wide. "I'll be damned!" he exclaimed.
Spock frowned. "What is the matter, Doctor?"
"That damned red light! No wonder I didn't see it in here. You didn’t have these in sickbay before.” He wagged a finger. “See, another good reason for making housecalls. The patch wouldn’t have caught it.”
"Caught what?" Spock asked and tried to look down at his chest.
"Well, I have a suspicion now as to what you have!" McCoy said triumphantly. Go to the mirror and see for yourself."
Spock got up and walked to his mirror. When he could see his upper body in it. His chest showed a large number of small red dots, some of them framed by green streaks where he had scratched just moments before. "What are these, Doctor?"
"Welts, Spock."
"So I can see. Any theories which infection is causing them?"
McCoy shook his head while he packed his bag. "Can't tell you for sure yet, Spock, but I'll go to the lab immediately and order an additional test to confirm my suspicion. If I am right you might remain confined to your quarters for a while, but you'll be just fine," he said, picked up his bag and rushed out the door, leaving a confused Vulcan behind.
An hour later McCoy called up the results of Spock's blood test. He could not help but grin. At the same time a signal from the bridge came in.
“Kirk here, Bones. We got an answer from star base 4. It has been routed directly to your computer."
McCoy nodded, forgetting Jim couldn't see him. He skimmed the results briefly. "Just as I thought," he said then.
"Oh? What does it say?"
"Jim, you'd better come down."
"On my way, Kirk out."
Barely a minute had passed before the captain stepped through the door to sickbay, his pace brisk.
'Must be a new speed record,' McCoy thought but swallowed the teasing words upon seeing Kirk's worried expression. He got up and smiled. "Relax, Jim. It's not that serious, well, at least not in this case. It could be far worse."
"What is not that serious, Bones? I want an explanation now, mister, and I want it now."
"Well, the report says there's been a handful of cases with the same symptoms. They tried to reach all ships that had a layover there, but couldn't reach us because of the ion storm."
"Yes, they told me that as well. So?" Kirk demanded, his impatience growing unbearable.
"Patient zero was one of the children we picked up on Triacus. The little blond girl, Mary Janowski, remember her?"
Kirk nodded. "Serious?"
McCoy laughed. "No, Jim. The disease is mostly harmless with children. They'all all be fine and we caught it early enough in Spock to avoid any serious complications. That's the thing with this disease; it's a breeze for kids, but hell on adults. He’s on antiviral drugs already now and the worst appears to be over. You wouldn't believe it, but he has the chickenpox!"
"Chickenpox?"
"Yes, it's a disease most people used to get during childhood."
Kirk shook his head. "I haven't heard of it."
McCoy nodded. "That's not surprising, Jim. It's almost been eradicated ever since standard vaccination started. It's so rare nowadays that the scanners didn't pick up on it. I wouldn't have thought of it myself either, no matter how early Spock had come to see me."
"And Mary's injection didn't take or did she never receive one?"
"I checked her medical records. For some reason her parents failed to have her vaccinated. Her family joined the team on Triacus not long before the emergency set in. There you go, Jim. Our first officer has contracted a children's disease."
"I see. But how?"
"It's highly contagious, Jim. It spreads through air."
"But I don't understand. Wasn't Spock vaccinated as well?"
"He was, but it obviously didn't take. Told ya he's full of surprises."
"What about the station? The planet, the other ships that laid over at Starbase 4? Could there be a mass outbreak?"
“Hardly, Jim. As I said, most people who could contract it are vaccinated. I'll keep an eye on the crew, but so far no other cases have been reported. And you said yourself there was an ion storm, so we were probably the only ship the star base couldn't reach as of yet. The report says nothin' of their not bein' able to handle outbreaks if there are any. They identified it earlier than us."
Kirk nodded. "You're right, but keep monitoring the crew. How did Spock take it?"
"With a raised brow, but otherwise with dignity."
"He should be disciplined for not reporting the symptoms at once. He's in space long enough to know things like that can turn out very bad."
McCoy grinned. "Don't worry, Jim. I found the perfect disciplinary measure for him. Believe me, he's punished enough."
Kirk raised both eyebrows. "Oh? How?"
"Well, I sent Christine to his cabin with a bowl of oatmeal and an anti-itch ointment for the rash."
"How do you consider her treatment a punishment? She's a good nurse."
"I know that. I wouldn't have given her the job if she weren't. She has a soft spot for him, you know."
"Sure do," Kirk muttered. The picture of a bowl of plomeek soup flying across the corridor crossed his mind and he wondered briefly whether the oatmeal would stick to the wall as stubbornly as the soup had. Nah, Spock wouldn't.
"Well, you know what a loner he is. He deserves his privacy bein’ breached. I also think he owes her one for throwing that soup at her. He might not return her affection but I'm sure he's sorry about havin' lost his patience with her, and she, on the other hand, would enjoy a sweet revenge."
"You sure of that, Bones?"
"Sure she does, Jim. I asked her," McCoy said with a wide grin.
"Bones, you have a mean streak." Kirk got up and laid a hand on McCoy's shoulder. "I don't even want to think about how many girls you could find to embarrass me."
"Dozens, Jim, dozens!" McCoy quipped and both men laughed.
THE END