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The supposedly Earthlike surface they landed on was distinctly unlike Earth. Rolling hills were reminiscent of Earth's Great Plains, but the grasses that spread across the landscape were a pale shade of purple rather than green. A unique byproduct of the scattering of the atmosphere. While breathable, the composition of gasses led to a sky that appeared orange rather than blue, and forced the humans in the Enterprise landing party to breathe a little harder. Spock had noticed Kirk attempting to hide it. Some vain idea that the captain should not be perceived as having so human a weakness. It was no weakness in Spock's eyes, simply the expected byproduct of a planet with the oxygen levels of an area of high elevation on Earth.
As a Vulcan, Spock adapted quickly to the oxygen concentration. What he did not adapt quickly to was the temperature, a few degrees cooler than what would have been comfortable for him. He would not let it interfere with his work. Perhaps out of his own vain ideas of Vulcan pride, he tried to conceal how much he wanted to shiver. The long sleeves of the thin Starfleet uniform were most helpful in hiding his goosebumps.
A tricorder scan of the area revealed no lifeforms on the surface beyond the landing party. They were not, however, alone on this planet. A few hundred yards away, a structure marked a shaft leading underground. That was where a small concentration of lifeforms appeared. Not human or Vulcan, but similar enough that they would have looked as one to the untrained eye. This was the colony they had been sent here to contact. This was their mission.
The way Kirk had explained it, they were a small group of religious escapees from a nearby planet. Conflict there had forced them to flee, but their ship was small, rudimentary. It wasn't able to take them out of their solar system. Instead, they landed here, on a habitable moon orbiting an outer planet which itself had been bombarded beyond recognition. Though small in the moon's sky, dark patches of destruction rimmed with flame were still visible on the planet they orbited. This religious group had committed the worst crime of all: they had advocated peace. Thus they had to run, or be destroyed.
The Enterprise was to recover this group and bring them to a nearby Federation outpost where they could undergo medical treatment for a disease they had acquired from the surface of the moon. No one had yet been able to identify what this disease was, but it had already rendered three of the small group's men incapacitated. Records showed that symptoms first appeared like a pollen allergy, with congestion and eye irritation, before the affected individual fell unconscious and could not be revived. It was only a matter of time before the disease became deadly.
"I don't get it, Jim," Bones said as the landing party stepped into the elevator. Its rudimentary structure implied that it had in the past been a mining elevator, designed for hauling men and heavy equipment. "Nothing on the surface could cause symptoms like that. The plants, the atmosphere, they're all relatively normal. Or, if not normal, survivable, anyway." Examining his tricorder, the doctor thought for a moment. "Maybe these people are allergic to the pollen. That's the only thing I could think of, unless there's something underground that's taking them out."
That was a possibility. Moons of this scale were notoriously seismically active due to the gravitational pull of the planet they orbited, which may lead to the release of noxious gasses. No matter what, they presented a danger to the landing party. "Need I remind you, Doctor, that the people we are recovering are nearly genetically identical to Earth humans. You all may be susceptible to the same hazards these people are currently facing."
As much as Dr. McCoy hated to agree with him, he always acquiesced when he knew Spock was right. That was one reason why Spock respected him. "He makes a solid point. We'll all need to keep an eye on ourselves, and if any symptoms appear, let me know immediately. That includes you, Spock. Your Vulcan blood may not protect you from whatever is causing this."
"I'll be sure to inform you the second I feel ill." Returning his attention to Jim, Spock said, "Captain, we ought to be certain that this disease is not transmissible to the rest of the crew before we beam survivors back to the Enterprise."
Jim nodded. He would do nothing to compromise the safety of the ship and the 430 people who called it their home. "It sounds to me like you two aren't even sure it is a disease. But I agree, we need to figure out what it is before we risk spreading it to others." The elevator neared the base of the shaft. Standing in front of their party, which also included Sulu and a young nurse ensign named Ilyana, Kirk said, "Remember, these individuals are refugees. They may behave differently to how you think they should because of the stress they've been under. Treat them respectfully, help where you can, and we'll try to bring them all back to the ship alive."
If there was one skill Jim maintained over Spock, it was his ability to inspire a crowd. Such was why Jim was the captain and Spock his first officer. It was one thing to have the technical capacity to operate a starship. It was another thing entirely to operate its crew. Spock could assign people according to their strengths, he could maintain the ship during conflict just as well as Jim could. What he could not do as well as Jim was use human emotions to his advantage. Humans fought harder when it was for a cause they believed in. The crew of the Enterprise believed in Jim. Spock had long ago learned to do so as well.
Shuddering to a halt, the elevator doors opened into a rough-hewn stone room. Old mining equipment rusted beyond use laid against the walls, abandoned when the shaft ran dry. Standing before them, awaiting their arrival, was a woman who looked very much like a human only slightly taller. Hair pulled back into a tight bun, she wore a drab utilitarian outfit. Her eyes had a shine to them that implied greater vision in the dark than humans had.
Those shining eyes were tired. "Greetings, friends from the Enterprise," she said, her voice high-pitched and ethereal. "I am Solanna. I speak for the Shalarians." Holding out a thin, bony hand, Jim took it, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. The Shalarians were an affectionate people in spite of their conflict. "We are in great need of your help."
Leading them down the hall, Solanna explained how three more people had fallen to their mystery illness. None of them had been killed by it, but if enough of them were incapacitated, they would not be able to keep their group alive. The protection of the mine shafts came at the cost of being able to easily gather resources. The Shalarians who remained now had to spend all of their time either collecting food or attending to the ill.
According to Solanna, their group had not experienced the illness before landing on the moon's surface, implying that it was indeed something about this location that was taking a toll on their people. With the fact they had proceeded underground shortly after arriving, it would be difficult to determine if the cause came from above or below. Dr. McCoy would have to examine all possibilities.
The ill were held in a small side chamber carved into the stone. Cool walls bred dampness, beads of water collecting along curved edges in the face of the stone. The Shalarians had the foresight to create a system of directing this moisture into a container so that they would have a supply of fresh drinking water. One of the upright survivors, an old woman, wetted a cloth in the water before resting it on the head of one of the ill. She cradled the unconscious woman's face with her hand, thumb brushing her cheek. The contact would do more for the well than the ill. Evidently the Shalarians had the human quirk of providing unnecessary comfort to those who cannot feel it.
Leaving Dr. McCoy to examine the half dozen ill, Jim pulled Spock aside. "Opinion, Mr. Spock?"
"It's too early to determine what in the environment might be causing this reaction, Captain." Often, when Jim would ask Spock's opinion, he already knew the answer. They knew each other well enough by now, had worked together for so long that Jim could practically read Spock's mind. An unrealistic comparison as most humans including Jim lacked telepathic abilities. He simply had the uncanny ability to understand the Vulcan mind. When he asked Spock's opinion, it was to show human respect, something that Spock had come to learn was an honor. "Though it is likely whatever is causing this affliction is stemming from either the water on this planet or an outgassing in the mine shaft, both of which the Shalarians would not have been accustomed to on their home planet."
Jim nodded. He scratched his chin pensively as he looked around the room at the other ill. "There's only fifteen more Shalarian survivors left conscious. At this rate, they'll all be out by the time we figure out what's causing it."
From across the room, Sulu called, "Captain, look at this!" Progressing around the sleeping, Spock followed Jim to the far wall, where Sulu was pointing his tricorder. "There's all these little cracks in the stone. When you put your fingers on them, you can feel air coming through. But the tricorder wasn't able to identify what type of gas it is. Sensors indicate some oxygen and nitrogen, but a large quantity of an unknown substance."
"Spock, I want you to run a full analysis. If it is the gas, then we should be able to bring these people to the Enterprise without worrying about spreading it, but that doesn't eliminate the risk of biological contamination," Jim said. He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing his eyes. "Sulu, try to identify more of these cracks and see if you can find the source. I'm going to speak to Solanna about what her plans are for her people."
Before Jim could walk away, Spock grabbed him by the arm. "Are you feeling well, Captain?"
Giving Spock that small, human smile that he reserved for the Vulcan, Jim brushed off Spock's concern. "I'm just fine, Spock. Nothing to worry about. If I feel any symptoms, you'll be the first to know. After Dr. McCoy, of course."
Jim was a good liar. When he had his mind set on something, nothing in the universe could stop him. Not even Spock. Relinquishing his grasp, Spock watched Jim as he crossed back to Solanna.
Being half Vulcan, Spock had become skilled in the art of controlling his more human impulses. Many who met him did not know of his human side. This was in part due to the dominant Vulcan genetics overwhelming that of humans, resulting in a hybrid that looked, sounded, and acted like any other Vulcan. These appearances were deceiving. Spock experienced bursts of human emotions that no Vulcan would ever have. Weaknesses like fear and anger he could control with logic. Irritation less so. The one emotion he did not yet have a mastery of was jealousy, solely out of lack of experience. He had not felt a deep, simmering envy until he had taken his position as Jim's first officer.
To see Jim standing so close to Solanna, to hear her whispering to him, it sparked an embarrassing jealousy within Spock. He knew it was illogical, that this was all part of both Shalarian culture and a requirement so as not to disturb those working in the room. And yet it still burned within him. The way his mouth grew dry when she reached out to touch Jim's arm.
Forcing his attention back to his tricorder, Spock ran through the script he told himself every time he felt like this. Jim was a charismatic leader. He knew how to make people feel good about themselves, even in a terrible situation. He drew people to him because of this skill. Women, men, those who fell outside the realm of either, people wanted to be around Jim. They became infatuated with him because he treated them with care and respect. Being emotional by nature, Jim accepted and reciprocated. Yet he would always choose the Enterprise first. No matter how much he cared for someone, no matter how much he appeared to love them, his ship and his crew took precedence.
His ship and his crew took precedence. That was what Spock told himself when Solanna rested a palm on Jim's chest, Jim bringing his hand up to cover hers. This woman would be coming to the ship with them and travelling with them until they reached the next Federation outpost. Which meant lots of time for Jim to get to know her.
It was not often that Spock disliked his Vulcan nature. Times like these, when other humanoids responded to Jim's human wish for contact, were moments in which he did. Spock's occasional touches and quiet forays into this aspect of human behavior were not enough to satisfy Jim's desires. His touch on Jim's arm earlier had sent fireworks through Spock's brain, and had been little more than friendly contact for one so physical as Jim.
The tricorder in his hands beeped as it provided him with a reading on the gas. Not biological matter, but something else. A chemical which would require further testing with the resources on the Enterprise. Producing a small canister, Spock gathered a sample from a crack in the wall. Hopefully it would be enough.
Suddenly, he heard Solanna gasp and call for Dr. McCoy. The symptoms had overwhelmed Jim, leaving him limp in Solanna's arms. Spock rushed over to help. Light in his strong Vulcan grasp, he laid Jim down, allowing McCoy to examine him. Already he was out like a light.
"Damnit, it got to him," McCoy muttered over the sound of his scanner. "Same as the Shalarians. Spock, do you have any idea what this could be?"
"Readings indicate it is not a biological contagion and instead an unidentified gas seeping from the walls." Kneeling beside Jim, he rested a hand on Jim's warm shoulder. The caves were even colder than the surface. Touching Jim would help warm Spock's stiff fingers and allow him to perform his duty better.
"Meaning you think it's safe to beam them all back up to the Enterprise." McCoy wasn't as good at reading Spock as Jim was, but he was certainly getting better at it.
"Correct. I believe returning to the ship now may prevent those unaffected by the gas from succumbing to it." Flipping open his communicator, Spock called the Enterprise and requested transport for the landing party and the Shalarians. "I've collected a sample of the gas which may allow us to formulate an antidote, assuming that reduced exposure does not revive them for us."
Spock remained at Jim's side as they were beamed back up to the ship. Gathering Jim in his arms, Spock carried him to sick bay where Nurse Chapel and Dr. M'Benga already had begun attending to the ill. McCoy had taken Spock's sample to the lab to run a full slew of tests.
Jim was not a small man, and his presence often made him appear larger than life. Yet here, limp in Spock's arms, he felt as delicate and waifish as Solanna. An edge of protectiveness crawled its way into Spock's mind. This was no way for a starship captain to be. This was not how Jim would want to be perceived by his crew. Laying Jim gently down in one of the beds, Spock examined the life support readings. Everything indicated Jim was in perfect shape, save for being unconscious. The readings on the others stricken by the gas were identical.
The doctors could test for brain activity, but Spock had a faster way of finding out that would provide him with a little more reassurance. Placing his hand on Jim's forehead, he attempted to reach out, not so much as to meld but just enough to pick up flickers of Jim's mind at work. As if desperate for contact, Jim's consciousness leapt out at him. He was still in there, mind catching on Spock's, hooking him closer. Quickly, Spock removed his hand. He didn't know what might happen to Jim if Spock were to progress any further in this state. At least he knew now that Jim was still in there. He could still be saved.
A hand on Spock's back startled him. "Mr. Spock," Chapel said, voice apologetic, "Dr. McCoy requests your presence in the lab."
Without acknowledgement, Spock pushed past her and proceeded towards the medical laboratory. The equipment, an impressive collection of spectrometers and diffractors, buzzed with activity. McCoy stood in the center of the action, holding a container of the gas up to the light as he looked at it through a lens.
"I'll tell you, I'm tired of us being the first ones to discover all these new hazardous materials," McCoy grumbled, "Why can't we ever just go to a planet with farms and rolling hills? Maybe a horse or two?"
"We have been to planets of that nature, Doctor, and in that situation it was humans who attempted to kill us."
"Right, right. There's always gotta be something having it out for us." Handing the lens and container to Spock, McCoy explained, "It's not giving readings like anything I've seen before. But the way it diffracts light might be why the atmosphere on that planet looked so odd." McCoy hypothesized that the gasses had been held somewhere underground, the mining operations inadvertently releasing them. The Shalarians had simply been unfortunate enough to use the place for shelter.
Since the gas did not resemble anything known, it would take longer to develop an antidote. Spock had anticipated this. Yet it still gave him a sense of frustration. They needed to figure out how this gas affected humanoids, not just for Jim's sake but for the affected Shalarians. Though on the surface it only appeared to put them in a coma, it could be dangerous to the brain or other organs. McCoy left Spock in charge of the lab while he joined his team to examine those in med bay. Perhaps, if they were lucky, the affected would wake up on their own.
Glancing up through the lab door, he could see Solanna standing beside Jim, her hands on his arm. She leaned over him, whispering into his ear. He would not be able to hear what she said. He would not be able to feel the kiss she placed on his forehead with soft, plush lips. Spock pushed his gaze back to the readings from the spectrometer in front of him. It did not stop the way his gut burned.
Hours passed without any meaningful progress. Spock discovered that the gas was not truly poisonous, and would not kill a humanoid outright. However, had the Shalarians stayed and all fallen unconscious, they would have starved to death. Nothing explained why only some had fallen ill and not others. There was nothing to indicate why Jim had been the only of their landing party affected. Perhaps there was some kind of genetic composition that the gas targeted that Jim possessed and not the others, but it would take time to determine that. Dr. McCoy had attempted to awaken those sleeping with possible antidotes and stimulants to no avail.
To free up a bed in med bay, Jim had been moved to his quarters. At least Spock could focus easier now without his presence. Solanna stayed beside her people, so Spock did not have to think about what she might do with Jim.
It had grown late. The second shift had already come on, and Spock was still in the lab. He needed to know. He needed to figure this out. Jim would not have wanted to be asleep for his next shift.
As Spock leaned over a microscope, the lights in the lab dimmed. He looked up, less than amused as McCoy stood beside him, crossing his arms. "Though my vision is better than that of a human's, I prefer working in the light, Doctor."
"Go to bed, Spock." While he wasn't an expert on Vulcan medicine like M'Benga, there were plenty of times in which McCoy pretended he was. He knew Spock did not need the same amount of sleep as a human. Normally, he respected that. "Jim's stable, he's not going anywhere."
"It would be a misuse of my time if I did not spend it working on a solution," Spock said, returning to the microscope less to actually use it and more to encourage McCoy to leave.
The doctor put a hand on his shoulder. Outside of Jim, McCoy was the only other person who Spock didn't mind the touch of. Ironic, considering how badly McCoy irritated him sometimes. It was one of those displays of human comfort that was usually coming from the right place. "Your time is better spent when you're able to focus on the task at hand. Take a break. If you don't want to sleep, that's fine, but just don't be here. Go sit next to Jim and watch him sleep or something."
Spock thought at first to protest, but that wasn't a terrible idea. If Jim were to wake up naturally, Spock could record it and provide the information to McCoy. It would be a useful case study for the Shalarians. "Perhaps I will, Doctor." Getting to his feet, Spock felt his spine pop from so many hours hunched over. "There are some tests which can be run passively. I'll set them up and then check on the Captain."
"Good." Giving his shoulder a squeeze, McCoy's hand fell away. For years, McCoy had been attempting to get Spock to admit to having more than Vulcan emotions. Spock would never admit that he was right. "I don't want to come in tomorrow morning and see you passed out over a microscope."
Choosing to ignore McCoy's comment, Spock got to work setting up several experiments that would run automatically overnight. When that was done to his satisfaction, he turned the lights back off in the lab, heading down the hall.
Jim's quarters were near his own, close enough that they often would head to the bridge together each morning. They would stand at the lift, Jim asking Spock about his evening, Spock providing him with the same string of answers he always did. Outside of work and Jim, Spock did not have much of a life. Jim never cared. He always looked happy simply to hear Spock talk.
The door to Jim's room opened with a swoosh. As anticipated, Jim was still unconscious, lying atop his small bed. For a moment, Spock hesitated. Then, he dragged a chair beside the bed. He could better observe Jim's condition from close by. Could watch the rise and fall of his chest, the subtle twitch of a brow as he dreamed. What did Jim dream about, in this state? Would he remember when he awoke? Were the Shalarians experiencing the same?
Being in bed for so long, Jim's hair was dishevelled. It would do no harm for Spock to brush his fingers through it. After all, the captain would not want to appear unkempt for his crew. Jim valued his appearance, and trusted Spock to help him maintain it. His hair was so soft between Spock's fingers. Like the feathers of a bird. It was beginning to thin, something Spock knew Jim was self-conscious about even though it was simply an unavoidable aspect of human genetics as they began to age. None of that mattered to Spock. Thinning hair or not, he was still Jim. He would always be Jim.
Spock thought of Solanna, leaning over Jim to press a kiss to his forehead. She was just the type of woman Jim appeared to prefer. Tall, thin, scantily-clad, and obsessed with him. Spock could see it now. Jim waking up, taking Solanna in his muscular arms and pressing his lips to hers. They'd spend a few passionate nights together on the way to the Federation outpost. She would beg him to stay, and Jim would say no, for love of the ship and his crew he could not. They would part each a little heartbroken. Until the next lover rolled along, and he could redo the cycle all over again. Such was the life Jim had chosen to lead. One that Spock had chosen to follow.
There was nothing that Spock was going to do to try and stop him. After all, why would he? Jim was his captain, his commanding officer, the man whose orders he followed. Any illogical jealousy or affection Spock might have felt was unimportant in the grand scheme of things. He did not want Jim to change who he was. Not on Spock's account, anyway. If Jim were to change, were to settle down, it would be Jim's choice, and a choice that Spock would respect, no matter how much it might hurt.
In this state, Jim could not feel. He could not hear or see. He would not have felt Solanna's touch. If Spock were to imitate her actions, Jim would never know. Spock's secret would never need to be revealed.
Brushing Jim's hair from his forehead, Spock stood and leaned over his bed, lips barely touching Jim's smooth skin. Instantly, there was a moment of pure connection. Of two minds meeting each other, two minds so deeply entwined that one would be unable to tell them apart. They were so good together. On the bridge, they worked as though they were one. Here, even with such a brief moment of contact, Jim's mind opened itself to Spock. Trapped in this unconscious body and yet still reaching out for his dearest and closest confidant.
Spock could hardly think. He should have been concerned for the Shalarians, for the others who had been so affected by the gas, and he could not give a damn about them. His focus was locked on the man in front of him. His captain. The man who he had come to love, as unlikely as it was. Before Spock even knew what he was doing, his lips were on Jim's. Slowly, tentatively, as though Jim would run away if he knew what was transpiring. That burst of energy that had appeared between them before was now a brilliant flame.
A hand was gripping Spock's hair, pulling him close. Jim, no longer just a passive recipient, was kissing back with as much vigor as he would give to an Orion dancing girl. Quickly, in spite of the hand in his hair, Spock yanked himself away, straightening his uniform.
"Captain," Spock said, voice unusually uneven, "I see that you're awake."
Breathing hard and looking a little dazed, Jim sat up, trying to get an understanding of the situation at hand. "Yes, I… I would say that I am." He gazed at Spock, warm hazel eyes brimming with affection. "And it was you, Prince Charming, who woke me up."
"My apologies, Captain. I don't know what came over me." There was no excuse that Spock could think of, no way out of this that would pardon what he had done. An urge that he should have suppressed told him to kiss Jim. While it had the generally positive effect of awakening Jim from his coma, Spock's actions were unbecoming of a first officer and of a Vulcan.
Jim's fingers ghosted over his lips. "Don't apologize. You've done what I've been too scared to try for the last three years." At the raising of Spock's brow, Jim added, "Unless, of course, that wasn't your intention, and I've just made a brilliant fool of myself."
Too scared to try? Had Jim been holding his own secret vigil for Spock? Could this be more than just a half Vulcan's emotional infatuation? Suddenly finding himself verklempt, Spock cleared his throat, hoping to clear his mind as well. "I believe there is only one intention behind why two people kiss each other. And if anyone has made a fool of themselves here, it's me. You likely did not imagine waking up to find your first officer's lips against your own."
"It was like the most beautiful spark of light passed through my mind. One minute I'm stuck, trapped in this dark, impenetrable void, and the next, there you are." Pushing himself to his feet, Jim was still unsteady from being out for so long. He stumbled, Spock catching him in his arms. It would have been easy to just let Jim right himself and move on. Instead, Spock held onto him, one hand on his waist and the other around his back. "Spock."
"Yes, Jim?"
"I'm not sure that I'm fully awake yet. Why don't you kiss me again just to make sure?"
One of those playful human traits, concealing true desires behind a joke. Nevertheless, Spock obliged, leaning down to catch Jim's lips against his own. Whether this would be one of Jim's throwaway romances or something more, Spock couldn't tell. But he could feel Jim's passion, through his lips, through his skin, through his mind. Spock wanted it all. He wanted to feel everything that Jim had to offer, to let Jim's emotions course through him like a stimulant.
The only thing that could interrupt them now was work. And Spock still needed to inform Dr. McCoy of his findings. Regrettably tugging himself away but not leaving Jim's arms, Spock said, "I must let Dr. McCoy know that you're awake."
"And let him get in the way of such a good thing?" At Spock's serious expression, Jim relented. He was still the captain and still had his duties. "You're right, of course. Before you call him, can you give me a few minutes to bask in this glow? If I'm going to spend the rest of the night with the good Doctor poking and prodding me, I'd like to spend a little longer enjoying this moment while we have it."
Resting his forehead against Jim's, Spock nearly smiled at the feeling of Jim's hands digging into his shirt. "I believe that would be acceptable." Leading Jim backwards, lips finding their way to Jim's earlobe, Spock added, "You may wish to be laying down for this part, Captain."