Listening to the scratchy noise coming over the open channel, a significant change from the frequency’s dead silence an hour ago, Chief Engineer Scott praised, “This is fine work, lass.”

“Don’t say that yet,” Uhura warned him, though her expression indicated that she was pleased by the compliment. “Thank me when the pattern becomes intelligible.”

“I’ll do more than that! Next time we dock, ye can have the fanciest dinner ye want on my tab!”

Her look, at first surprised, turned speculative. “You don’t have to buy me dinner for doing my job, sir.”

Scotty’s face colored.

“However…” The corners of the woman’s mouth turned up the tiniest bit. “…I would consider the invitation if it came along with the company of a friend.”

Her companion’s blush deepened. “I, ah, that is… a friend, you say?”

He never received her reply, for they were both distracted by a frantic beeping from her control panel.

“Incoming message,” announced Uhura, her mellifluous tone turning business-like.

“From?” he queried, placing a hand on the back of her chair and leaning over her shoulder.

She swiveled in her chair to look directly at him, two fingers pressed to her earpiece. “Starfleet.” Her mouth flattened a moment later. “A cease-and-desist order. They want us to recall the search party.”

Scotty stared at her, sifting through the implications of what she had said. “How,” he wanted to know, lowering his voice, thereby deepening his brogue, “did they find out? I specifically recall Mr. Spock asking you to delay the status report until we knew more about the situation on Tassos III.”

Their gazes met, held.

“I am not certain,” Uhura answered at last, the hidden meaning in that statement quite clear: But I will find out.

The Chief Engineer gave her brief nod and backed away, his expression grim.

The Enterprise had a rat onboard. Could things possibly get worse?

The small patient ward was eerily quiet, barring the steady beep of one active biobed. At the back of the room, Leonard watched his adversary, and his adversary watched him. Eventually, when the doctor had had his fill of the strained silence between them, he demanded, “Aren’t you going to say something?”

The man smirked.

Leonard cut him off as he opened his mouth. “Spare me the threats. I’ve heard plenty of those already.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s your name?” At the lack of response, he rolled his eyes heavenward and pointed out, “It’s not going to matter if I know.”

“Tom,” came the grudging reply.

“Tom,” Leonard said, “you’ve got a major problem on your hands.”

Tom’s expression turned sour. “Don’t I know it.”

Leonard ignored that insinuation. He raised one finger. “First, you’ve kidnapped a Starfleet officer. I may not be high-ranking but my captain certainly is. He’s our golden boy, you know. A lot of admirals are going to take offense to you messing with Kirk. Second,” he raised his voice to talk over any pithy remark Tom might have made, “you’ve pissed me off.” He pushed away from the counter he had been leaning against. “I really don’t like it when people hurt my friends. I’ve half a mind to show you what my right cross can do.”

“You could try,” Tom taunted.

“I would succeed,” Leonard corrected.

The man’s upper lip curled.

“Watch it, mister! You’re asking for trouble,” Leonard snapped in warning, then blinked. That had sounded an awful lot like Jim. Time to change tactics. “Tell me where Kirk is.”

“No.”

“Then take me to where Kirk is.”

Tom’s mouth twisted into an ugly smile. “Maybe he’s six feet under. You still wanna see him?”

Leonard didn’t believe that. Refused to. “Tom, consider my offer while I’m being reasonable. If you take me to Captain Kirk, I’ll testify at your hearing that you cooperated. It could minimize your sentencing significantly.”

“I won’t be goin’ to prison, Doctor. I’m exactly where I belong.”

No choice then, thought McCoy. He would have to take this brute down.

He started to move forward but caught sight of a shadow behind Tom that didn’t belong there. Always quick at thinking on his feet, he used his forward momentum as a pivoting motion instead, purposefully turning his back to his captor and walking in the opposite direction.

As expected, Tom jumped up to catch him, thinking Leonard was up to no good. He began to demand, “Where in hell do you think you’re—”and never saw the blow to the back of his head coming.

Tom was a big fellow. The blow stunned him but didn’t take him all the way down. Leonard’s hand closed around a hypospray hidden in his pocket and with great satisfaction he jabbed it into the side of the man’s neck. When Tom reached for him, he stepped out of the way. The man collapsed as the sedative quickly took effect.

“Well,” drawled the doctor, “that was anticlimactic.” Then he looked at the newcomer with interest.

She straightened up and tossed the bedpan in her hand aside. “Thank you for distracting him, Dr. McCoy.”

Leonard grinned and pulled the woman into a hug. “Blanca, you’re a sight for sore eyes!”

She huffed against his shoulder, then pushed him away, growing serious. “Sir, I’m the one who should be grateful. Lt. Joran needs your help. He’s in bad condition.”

Leonard was already gathering up his tricorder and medkit as she spoke. “Before you give me the details about the patient who isn’t here, tell me about the one who is. What happened to your face?”

He heard the triumph in her voice as she replied, “A head-butt, sir.”

“Whose?”

“Mine.”

“Next you’ll be telling me I should see the other guy.”

“You should.”

He snorted as he waved the tricorder over her face. “Your nose is fractured. What’s your pain level?”

“Help Joran first.”

He reluctantly agreed to wait. “Then what’s the rest of the story? What happened to y’all?”

Olivares kicked Tom’s foot. “More like who happened. This bastard—and a few others.” The look in her eyes hardened. “They killed Garrison.”

Leonard’s heart clenched. Even knowing the answer was right in front of him, he almost couldn’t say the words. “And… Captain Kirk? Is he…?”

“He was alive the last time I saw him.” But the woman suddenly looked haunted. “I don’t know where he was taken.” Her jaw line hardened again as she pointed to Tom. “He knows, though.”

Leonard closed his eyes, realizing his mistake. “I administered enough sedative to knock out a Klingon troop. He’s not going to wake up anytime soon.”

Blanca’s gaze drifted to the other unconscious man in the room. “Then we’ll find somebody else and make him talk.”

Leonard hesitated. “Blanca… what’s really going on here?”

“I wish I knew, sir. Tappan wants Captain Kirk for some reason. Ambassador Leta betrayed us to him. This trip was a setup from the beginning.”

Leonard forced himself to swallow a curse. “You can tell me the rest on the way. Take me to Joran.”

She nodded and led the way from the room. “Andy’s with him. We took down the group holding us and ran. One of them got away.”

“The man I operated on,” Leonard guessed.

“Yes. I came here because I needed to do something for Joran. I couldn’t just…” The woman swallowed hard before she finished. “…watch him die.”

Leonard said, “You did the right thing.”

“If I hadn’t been lucky enough to find you here, Dr. McCoy, I doubt I would agree with you.” She stopped walking and gave him a pleading look. “You can save him, can’t you?”

He knew he couldn’t make any promises. “I’ll try my best, Blanca.”

She bowed her head for a moment, then resumed walking again.

Leonard followed her in silence. He wasn’t with Jim yet, but he was with Jim’s team. He had to believe that was one step closer to his goal. Only once did he glance back over his shoulder, feel a pang of regret that he didn’t have the information he really wanted. Then he let the feeling go.

Spock had been right. He was compromised in a way which hampered his judgment, made it difficult to focus. He shouldn’t have come on this mission. But now that he was here, there was no turning back.

You’re a doctor, he reminded himself. Protect and preserve. Jim would expect nothing less.

Yet, despite all, his gut told him he was going to disappointment himself—and Jim—in the end.

There was no mistaking the person who came through the hatch. Jim bit back his frustration.

“Dad!” Ram called, skidding across the grain to stand in the shadow of the platform. Jim followed him with more caution. “Down here!”

Tappan moved to the platform’s edge and laid his hands on the railing. “Good evening, Captain Kirk.”

“Dad,” Ram called again, waving his arms, “it’s me!”

“Ramses, please,” Tappan snapped, “be quiet! I came to speak to Captain Kirk.”

Ram staggered. Jim caught his arm.

The young man pulled away. “Dad, you—you knew I was in here? Then you had them…” The words trailed off.

“Ram,” Jim said, but Ram shook his head mutely and backed farther away, as far as possible, across the grain again to the opposite wall.

Jim rounded on Tappan, furious. “How can you lock up your own son?”

“To protect Ramses, of course.”

“From who?” Jim demanded. “The men who follow your orders?”

“From himself.”

“He’s not a threat!” Kirk roared. “You are!”

Tappan said nothing for a minute, just drummed his fingers against the metal rail.

“You’ll let him out,” Jim stated in his most commanding tone. “Drop the ladder.”

“Captain, Captain… Your ploy is too obvious.”

Jim started to raise his fists, forced himself to lower them. “It’s not a ploy, Tappan. I won’t climb up, but Ram will. You are not keeping him in here.”

“No,” came the argument, surprisingly from Ram. Ram raised his voice to carry. “Let him throw me away, Captain. I don’t care! I would rather stay with you. At least you give a damn about other people. My father has only ever cared about himself!”

“Ramses!”

“Screw you!” Ram shouted at the man in question.

Tappan broke away from the railing, paced to the ladder’s control box on the side of the wall. When he flipped back the panel, Jim broke into a sweat, thought fiercely, Yes, do it!

His hope died a moment later as Tappan dropped his hand back to his side and snarled. The man came back to the railing and leaned out over it.

“I will forgive you, Ramses, because you are prone to foolishness. You will see things my way soon enough.” Tappan turned his head to stare at Kirk. “Captain, you on the other hand will never know forgiveness. How dare you try to use my own son against me!” He straightened up. “I intended to make a deal with you. Now I have changed my mind.”

“I don’t make deals with the devil,” Jim shot back.

Tappan smiled and drew out an object, held it up for them to see. “Your men are searching for you. I thought you might care to tell them you are alive.”

Kirk’s heart lodged in his throat as he stared at the communicator. Had Spock sent a team after him? “I don’t believe you.”

“Ah, but the hope in your voice says otherwise.”

“No,” Jim refused firmly. “I know what your price is. It will never happen.”

Tappan adjusted the glasses resting on his nose, his look shrewd. “Eventually it will, Captain.”

“You are truly insane to think I would order the extermination of this colony. Even crazier,” he added, “to think anyone would follow that order.”

Tappan tucked away the communicator. “It amuses me that you think you know my true agenda, Kirk. Nonetheless, what you must do is inevitable. Shall I tell you why?” He lost his smile, then. “No, I think we would all be better served for you to find out on your own.” He returned to the open hatch, paused there when his son called out to him once more.

Ram returned to Kirk’s side. “You can’t leave us in here for long. It’s a death sentence for Captain Kirk.”

Jim gripped the young man’s arm, warning him, “Don’t bargain with him.”

Tappan laughed. “I am well-aware of his condition, my son. It’s what makes the captain’s decision of the utmost importance. Who should live, and who should die?”

“You’re wrong, Tappan. No one has to die.” Jim wiped at his forehead, swayed on his feet. Why couldn’t he stop sweating?

“Someone always has to die before fools learn,” Tappan retorted as he shut the hatch behind him.

When the lock engaged, Jim’s legs gave out.

The presence seated in the middle of the assembly room eclipsed all others. He commanded attention and inspired fear. Perhaps it was the way he looked, so extraordinarily unaffected by the proceedings, fingers steepled and eyes partially hooded in his human-like but not-quite-human-enough face, conjuring in the mind the image of a viper ready to strike. Who would be the victim was currently the main concern of everyone.

The tension in the room slowly climbed to its peak. Just before it could shatter, the man—the Vulcan—singled out a hunched form in a nondescript jumpsuit.

“That one,” he said. “Mr. Balasubramaniam, bring him.”

Sandeep was quick to obey. He had no desire to find out what would happen if he didn’t, for it was clear that Mr. Spock was in no mood to tolerate disobedience. Sandeep took a hold of the man’s elbow and escorted him to the middle of the room.

“I ain’t done nothing,” argued the farmer loudly, dragging his feet along the way. His gaze darted about, landing on everyone except the Vulcan watching him. But when Spock raised his left hand towards the man’s face, the man cringed and began to panic in earnest.

“I did nothin’, I swear! Don’t—don’t—” The fellow trembled, staring pale-faced at Spock’s extended hand. “—don’t hurt me!”

“My next action depends on you,” Spock stated very softly. “I require information. Will you give it to me willingly?”

Sandeep paled too. Mr. Spock wasn’t actually going to force his way into this man’s mind, was he? No, it couldn’t be. It was a ploy.

Then again, the Vulcan’s voice had been arctic when he had ordered his subordinates to round up as many colonists as they could find. While he hadn’t specifically told them to use force, Sandeep suspected Spock wouldn’t have batted an eye if they had had to drag people in barely conscious or bloody.

The farmer seemed to be of a different opinion about Vulcans. He slumped in Sandeep’s grasp and whimpered, shaking his head in the negative.

Sandeep felt true alarm when Spock leaned forward and pulled the farmer out of his grasp. The man collapsed to his knees and locked his arms over his head in an effort to protect himself.

Sandeep stuttered, “Mr. S-Spock…!” He heard some of the other officers cry out too.

But Spock simply sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers again, his emotionless stare fixed on the human whimpering at his feet. “You waste your tears. I have no inclination to touch your mind.”

The man slowly lowered his arms. “You… don’t?”

“What would I learn that I do not already know? You are a coward and a miscreant—a creature who acts without thinking, who feels no remorse for his wrongdoing, and who is easily swayed by greed and empty promises. In short, your mind is filth. I would not risk tainting myself with it.”

Sandeep’s eyes widened. Well, he thought, that’s one way to insult your enemy.

The farmer’s fear had turned to anger in the interim. “F-Filth! Filthy, am I?” He scrambled to his feet. “What the hell do you know? Who are you to come to our colony and judge us?”

Spock’s dark eyes glittered at the challenge. “I am Starfleet.”

The man sneered, as did several others.

“And I am placing you—and every adult present—under arrest,” said the Vulcan, raising his voice to carry, “on charges of conspiracy to undermine a federal investigation, blatant disregard for law and order, and unprovoked retaliation against my crew. Henceforth, Tassos III is under my jurisdiction.” Spock came to his feet, then, at the same time that Giotto gave a subtle signal for the other officers to prepare to close ranks. “To be clear, ladies and gentlemen, you made your choice and now I have made mine. Your settlement rights are hereby suspended. You are no longer citizens of Tassos III. You have one hour to gather your personal belongings and report for deportation.”

The room was shocked into silence but only momentarily. Sandeep leaped into action as all hell broke loose. He stunned three charging colonists before he could gather his bearings and move into position. From there, it was like being swarmed by angry hornets. He lost count of how many people he took down.

“Only Mr. Spock,” shouted the lieutenant at Sandeep’s elbow over the melee as they fired in unison at their attackers, “would have the brass to arrest an entire colony when we don’t have enough backup to keep them contained!”

“He lost Kirk,” Sandeep shouted back, “then McCoy, which is just like losing his mind! You can’t blame him!”

“If we survive,” sighed Danson, “I want a commendation for not losing my mind.”

“‘If’ being the keyword!” cried another officer, taking down a crop of people cheerfully. “Ahaha, I knew this would be my last mission!”

“Gentlemen,” interrupted Mr. Spock, who zapped people with deadly accuracy, “maintain your focus. There will be time for regret later.”

“Aye, sir!” the security team chorused.

Mr. Giotto leaned towards Mr. Spock and said something. Mr. Spock’s head whipped around.

Sandeep couldn’t help himself. He looked too. “Oh wow!” he said.

“Wow good or wow bad?” Danson demanded. “Bloody hell, where are all these people coming from? I think they’re multiplying!”

Sandeep crowed, “Backup has arrived!” and broke into a grin.

“Stay with the Commander!” barked Giotto, for Spock had already moved to the edge of their circle, intent on mowing down as many people as necessary to get across the room.

If their boss hadn’t had them practicing moving formations so often, Sandeep was certain their blockade would have fallen apart in that moment. Instead the circle flowed seamlessly with Mr. Spock in the direction he wanted to go. The colonists stopped coming at them in droves, no doubt confused as to why their target was giving ground and running away.

Running away we definitely aren’t, thought Sandeep. His grin broadened when at last he could heard the person Mr. Spock had been aiming for.

“What on God’s green earth is going on?!“

“Dr. McCoy,” the Vulcan responded, his voice hinting at relief, “you are alive. How… gratifying. Please enter the circle.”

“Olivares!” called Giotto. “Get your team over here!”

“Trying, sir!” the woman yelled back.

Blanca had no phaser but that didn’t stop her. She knocked heads together with her bare hands. The other officer with her wasn’t Garrison but Sandeep recognized him as one of Engineering’s boys, Kolarski. He looked like he was having more of a difficult time hanging onto McCoy’s flailing arm than fending off attackers.

McCoy was indeed flapping his arms, with a lot of indignation. “My god, it’s like World War III in here!”

When they were close enough, Spock reached between two officers, snagged the doctor and unceremoniously dragged him into the circle. Sandeep and the officer knocking elbows with him opened up enough to let Olivares and Kolarski squeeze inside too.

“I can’t leave you alone for a second!”

“An ironic choice of words, Doctor.”

“That’s not my point!”

McCoy ranted about something else but his accent was thicker than usual and Sandeep had difficulty comprehending him. He did heard, “Doctor, please, you are breaking my concentration—” and “—pointy-eared—outta your Vulcan mind!”

He smiled to himself.

At least something good had come out of this mess. Dr. McCoy and Mr. Spock were on the same side again.

When Karen’s search didn’t turn up her son, she asked people around his age who she thought would be his friends. Most of them denied seeing him around; one young woman said Ram had been in the community hall for a while but where he had gone after that, she didn’t know. She then shyly tried to ask Karen a few questions, such as “Are you related to Ram?”, which had surprised Karen and made her begin to wonder. Had Ram never told anyone about her? She came to visit him as often as her schedule allowed, and she never tried to hide the fact that she was his mother. That Ram might be ashamed of her, or worse yet prefer others to think she carelessly abandoned him or had simply died, upset her immensely. It was no secret that she was Augustus’s lover. She was given that respect when she visited. Yet how could no one know Ram was their son? It made her wonder if Augustus, too, had meant to keep it secret.

That thought infuriated her. After decades of fighting to improve her position among her male superiors, of cultivating her connections to open doors for this colony which would otherwise have remained closed, of traveling the stars alone, and at the end this was her reward? She couldn’t lay claim to her own child!

Tappan could withhold his love from her but not Ramses. She would not allow it.

Absorbed by her fury, she almost didn’t notice the armed officers until it was too late. They came in through the side entrance of the kitchen. She hid at the back, in an alcove in between two large racks stacked with dry goods. When they were gone, she came out of hiding to find that they had taken the kitchen staff with them.

What was going on? Why were Kirk’s men walking about freely? Had they taken down Tappan?

Cautiously she investigated and discovered that the colonists were being herded into the central dome. She entered the building in a roundabout fashion, through a door used only by the engineers who had to access the maintenance shaft in order to work on the exterior shield. Every nook and cranny was empty except for one room; there she found a person laid out along the inner wall. At first she thought he was dead but when she knelt to touch him, she saw his chest rise and fall.

Turning his face towards her, Karen recognized him as Kirk’s co-pilot from the Copernicus. His eyes were closed, and his normally pale complexion was nearly translucent, displaying a latticework of blue veins just beneath the thin stretch of skin.

Karen slapped his face. When he didn’t respond, she slapped him again, harder.

The officer groaned, blinked open his eyes, and stared at her in confusion.

“What is Kirk up to?” she demanded, then raised her hand threateningly when he didn’t respond. “Answer me!”

He turned his face away, whispering, “Traitor.”

She curled her fingers in and reluctantly lowered her fist. “That is correct, Lieutenant. I betrayed you. I will make amends if you will tell me where—”

Someone yelled in the hallway. Another person followed suit, and then another.

Karen froze as the voices grew in number as well as volume, followed by the thunder of many people running. Someone or something crashed loudly against the closed door and Karen slapped her hand against her mouth to stifle her shock.

No one came in.

Eventually, when the sounds died down, she withdrew her hand from her mouth. She asked again, “What was that? What is Kirk up to?”

The officer on the ground coughed. His voice came in weak whispers. “Not Kirk. Capt’n. Gone.”

“What do you mean?” she asked sharply.

“Took him.”

She reached down and shook his shoulder, demanding, “Where is your captain!”

The man closed his eyes. “Gone,” he repeated. “With the boy.”

This fool was hallucinating. Kirk didn’t have a boy. He had trained officers who were running wild around the colony under someone else’s orders. She simply couldn’t make sense of any of it.

The ambassador started to stand up but a hand latched onto her arm, surprisingly strong for about one second before it limply fell away. She looked over the sick man, pitied him. “There is nothing I can do for you.”

“Save… Kirk.”

“If it suits me,” she told him, for it was clear he was dying and dying men deserved the truth. Then she left him alone, her conscience held in reserve for those who mattered, who had the power to punish her, like Captain Kirk.

The carnage was extreme, only mitigated by the fact that no one was actually bleeding or dead. Leonard, stuck in a corner of the large town hall, watched Giotto and his security team pick their way across the battlefield, checking bodies, removing weapons. The scene had horrified him when he first came upon it. It still horrified him, despite that his rational self knew there would have been no other choice but to fight in order to escape unscathed.

Leonard was pulled from his thoughts when his left arm started to move on its own. He looked down and saw that Spock was operating a tricorder and he was clutching the Vulcan’s blue tunic sleeve—had been, it appeared, holding onto Spock for quite some time. He let go in embarrassment.

Spock paused in what he was doing to ask, “Are you unwell?”

“You must think I’m a coward.”

Spock returned to perusing the tricorder’s output. “I see no correlation between your reaction and cowardly behavior. It is well-known that violence abhors you.”

“But still… you must of thought I was trying to hide behind you while everyone else was fighting back.”

“On the contrary, Doctor, I was hiding you.”

Leonard opened and closed his mouth. Before he could ask what that meant, Spock walked away.

“Now wait just a minute! Where are you going?”

Leonard hurried after him. When Spock came to an abrupt stop, the doctor almost crashed into him, managing to bounce back a couple of steps at the last second. He complained, “I know damn well you heard me, Commander!”

“Dr. McCoy, if you would try to control yourself, I have something of interest to show you.” The Vulcan presented Leonard with his tricorder.

Leonard eyed him warily, then forgave the annoying hobgoblin and took the device. After studying its display for some time, he pursed his mouth. “What am I looking at?”

Spock raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. Moisture content. It’s similar to the readings in the barn.”

“Precisely.”

“Could just be the atmosphere of this planet. Or maybe a storm system came through recently.”

“Doctor, I suspect that you did not thoroughly review my official report on Tassos III.”

“You put too many details in your reports.”

“I am a scientist. Details are my livelihood.”

Leonard snorted. “You’re a walking thesaurus with an appalling lack of a social life.”

“I socialize adequately with my peers,” Spock countered in a sharper tone.

Not lately. Leonard didn’t say that since the reason behind Spock’s recent reclusive behavior was mostly his fault. He sighed and handed the tricorder back to Spock, then took out his own.

As he fine-tuned it, he said, almost conversationally, “You heard Lt. Olivares’ report but didn’t ask for mine. I would wonder why that is—except I already know the answer. You’re afraid I might tell you something you would have to reprimand me for.”

“It is your duty to report on your actions and my duty, if necessary, to issue a reprimand.”

Leonard glanced at him. “We are both aware of what our roles are, Spock. I am saying that if you feel responsible for me, don’t. You agreed to let me come against your better judgment. That’s where your responsibility ends. If I make bad decisions or stupid mistakes while I’m here, that’s on me.”

Spock said nothing.

Leonard gave his attention back to his tricorder. “I didn’t try to get away. I was hoping Tom—Mr. Walken, accordingly to Blanca—would lead me to Jim.”

“Did it occur to you that he might have killed you once you were no longer useful to him?”

“Well worth the risk, don’t you think?”

“No,” Spock said, “I do not think so, Doctor, which is why we should not have this discussion until I have the appropriate amount of time to explain to you in detail why you are wrong.”

“There you go with those details again.” Leonard could tell his joke fell flat, for Spock simply stared at him until he swallowed his chuckle. “Fine,” he half-sighed, half-murmured. “Yell at me later if you want. I might even listen.”

“Doubtful, which is also why I will invite Jim to the conversation.”

Leonard made a face. “Now that’s just underhanded, Spock!”

“I intend to leave nothing out of my report to the Captain.” Having had his say, apparently, Spock changed the subject by remarking, “I anticipated a negative reaction from the colonists, although not to the extent of a riot.”

“Bet you didn’t.”

“The depth of their malevolence is quite disturbing.” Spock hesitated. “How I will phrase this… event in the report, I am not yet certain.”

Leonard crossed his arms. “Surely you don’t think this level of aggression is normal?” He pointed to a limp body half-hidden under a second body. “That’s a child, Spock, who came at you with a pick-axe!”

“Yes, I noted that.”

“Then you’ll agree it’s not far-fetched to say these people aren’t in their right minds.”

Spock turned to look at him. “Would you say they are psychologically damaged?”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t go that far. It’s clear that they’re sick, though.”

“Can you prove it?”

That question startled Leonard. “What?”

“Find the cause of their violent reaction, Doctor. If the sickness, as you call it, is unnatural and can be treated, then we must help them. If not…” Spock paused.

Leonard prompted, “If it’s not?”

“A different recourse must be undertaken.”

“I wouldn’t recommend trying to arrest them again.”

“Duly noted.”

Leonard harrumphed, then sighed and missed Jim deeply for a moment.

“Doctor.”

“Hm?”

Spock started to say something but was interrupted by Giotto, who handed a communicator to him.

“Commander, Mr. Scott would like a word with you.”

Leonard started.

Immediately Spock said into the comm, “Spock here.”

“‘Tis wonderful to hear your voice, Mr. Spock!“

“Were I human, the feeling would be mutual, Mr. Scott.”

Leonard leaned in and said, “That’s half-Vulcan-speak for: your voice is the best damn thing we’ve heard all day!”

“Thank ye, Dr. McCoy. No word on the Capt’n, I hear.“

Leonard tried to answer optimistically but his “Not yet” sounded depressed to his own ears.

Spock diverted away from that unhappy news by asking after the communication lines and the ship scanners.

“Scanners are still useless, sir. Uhura crafted a backdoor we can use to keep a channel open but we cannae say how long it’ll hold. If ye could locate the cause of our disruption and disable it, we’ll have everything restored in no time at all.“

“Understood.”

Scotty’s voice dropped all of a sudden. “Mr. Spock, we received an official communiqué came from Starfleet. We’re to cancel the mission.“

Leonard met Spock’s eyes, then Giotto’s. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

“Was the source validated?” asked Giotto.

“Aye.“

“A leak,” decided Leonard. “But since when?”

“Very recently,” stated Spock. “Perhaps as recent as Ambassador Leta’s arrival.”

“Why would she bribe one of the crew to contact Command when Command sent her?”

“I do not know, Doctor.” Spock turned his head to stare at a junior officer who came towards their group but stopped short as though he wasn’t certain about interrupting his superiors.

A chill ran down Leonard’s spine. He reached up and tugged at the collar of Spock’s tunic. Spock tensed under his hand, but Leonard said, “Hold still,” and Spock didn’t move away.

Seconds later, he released the Vulcan’s collar.

“Hello? Are you there?” called Scotty, as it had gone suddenly silent from their end.

“Mr. Scott,” Leonard said, taking the communicator gently out of Spock’s hand, “note this in the ship’s log: effective immediately no one will transport to or from the surface of Tassos III. I am placing it under medical quarantine.”

Giotto stared at him. Spock made an aborted motion towards his own neck.

Leonard couldn’t look at either of them.

“Doctor, are ye…?“

“Positive, Scotty. Code 7-10. I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can tell you other than that it’s a contagion. We’re in luck, there’s a medical bay here but it’s woefully understocked. Is there any chance you can get the transporters working?”

“I’ll give it my best.“

Leonard gave the communicator back to Spock and kept his eyes fixed on the ground.

“Anything else to report, Mr. Scott?”

“Negative, sir.“

“We will be touch.” Spock closed the unit. He minced no words as he addressed McCoy. “Do I need to be removed from command?”

“I’m not sure,” Leonard said. He finally looked up. “Spock…”

“There is nothing to add, Doctor. You made the right choice.”

Leonard blanched. Like Olivares, he didn’t know whether to agree or disagree with that statement so he said instead, “Let’s hope so. Will you come with me to the medical facility? The rash on your neck… I’ve seen it before.”

Spock handed his phaser to Giotto. “The charge is nearly depleted. Use it wisely.”

“What about the colonists, sir?”

“This structure has the largest capacity. They must be contained here. Mr. Giotto… if at any point in time I become indisposed, you will be in command of the ground team until the Captain’s return.”

Giotto nodded once and stepped back.

When Spock gave himself over to Leonard’s care, all that Leonard could think to say was “I’m sorry, Spock.”

And he truly was sorry. His distraction, his driving need to find Kirk, had blinded him to clues that, if he had been clear-headed, he would have never missed. He knew timing could cost lives. What if the cost was Spock’s? How would he ever recover?

How would Jim?

Sad news, my friends: there will be no update next week. I am traveling for a full seven days. I hope this doesn’t drive you too crazy!