The Trust of a Bonding, Part 2

THE TRUST OF A BONDING
by K.V. Wylie

CHAPTER 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.

CHAPTER 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.

CHAPTER 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."

CHAPTER 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 T
.N.T."

"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.

CHAPTER 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."

CHAPTER 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."

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."

CHAPTER 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. Christine 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. Christine 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.

CHAPTER 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.

CHAPTER 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 Christine 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. Christine 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, Christine 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."

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