With Joran settled on a second biobed in the patient ward, an officer on guard at the outer doors, and Olivares on her way back to Giotto, Leonard thought he should feel easier about things. Only, truth be told, he felt worse. Joran had told them of his brief encounter with Ambassador Leta. While it seemed the woman wasn’t as aware of Tappan’s plans as they thought she would be, Joran made a point of saying he hoped she never found Kirk. Leonard was inclined to agree with him. The Ambassador was hardly trustworthy. He also believed that the mysterious person who supported her agenda from a seat of power in Command needed to be ousted from the ranks. The whole ordeal smacked of conspiracy.

That, however, was a small problem compared to the medical emergency with which Leonard now had to contend. He waved the prime example of said medical emergency into the ward.

Spock entered cautiously, then came to a halt, raising an eyebrow at the unusual sight of a man sprawled face-down across the facility floor. “I assume this is Mr. Walken.”

“Yeah,” Leonard agreed distractedly, digging through a counter drawer across the room. “Guess we should’ve moved him.”

The Vulcan casually stepped over the body. “One should not waste one’s energy.”

Leonard snorted as he pulled out a packaged syringe. “And I thought I had a mean streak. Have a seat, hobgoblin. We’re going to be here awhile.” When he looked up, though, Spock wasn’t sitting down. “What are you doing?”

“A moment, please,” requested his companion. “I am attempting to break through the building’s security protocol. In the event we are attacked, it would be beneficial to have control of the shield system.”

“Hack the quarantine protocols too.” Just in case, Leonard added silently.

“Of course, Doctor.”

While Spock preoccupied himself with the computer, Leonard perused the available lab equipment in a nearby cabinet. The contents left him disheartened. He rubbed the back of his neck, let loose a sigh, and closed the cabinet door. Then he went to the biobed containing the sleeping Mr. Greene. Leonard noted the patient’s color was much improved. Running a tricorder scan over the area of the wound showed an improvement in the statistics too.

The surprise came when he lifted Greene’s arm.

Spock stopped what he was doing at Leonard’s exclamation. “Dr. McCoy?”

“It’s gone,” Leonard said in disbelief. He inspected the limb from armpit to wrist. “This can’t be right! I’m certain I saw the rash. Surely it couldn’t have—wait. Wait a minute.” He dropped Greene’s arm and stole over to the refrigerator. There, he retrieved one of the cold packets of blood. Then he put it down and picked up a different packet. “These aren’t standard-issue. Spock, can you pull up the latest inventory count?”

“I am already doing so.”

Leonard came to stand by his shoulder. “There,” he said, pointing to one of the computer records. “The blood packs aren’t synthetic. Someone uploaded donation tags.”

Spock’s fingers flew over the controls, causing several menus to whiz by on the computer screen. “I have located the corresponding medical logs.”

They went through each log, studying the list of names.

Spock remarked, “The blood donors are local.”

“Beyond than the violence, I haven’t seen any signs of sickness among the colonists like Greene’s. Greene came to Tassos III recently. He could have brought the infection with him but that wouldn’t account for his good condition now.” He almost hesitated to say his theory but did in the end. “If the infecting agent started here, then the colonists could have developed immunity from prolonged exposure.”

“Thereby implying that you unwittingly transferred the antibodies to an infected patient. It is a possibility, Doctor.”

Leonard went back to the biobed to inspect the sleeping man’s arm again. As he did so, something unpleasant occurred to him.

Spock left the computer to come stand behind him. His words were carefully spoken. “I must admit… how unfortunate it is I am not human.”

Leonard hunched his shoulders. What an understatement that was! While he was fairly certain he could isolate the antibodies from the donated blood (if they actually existed) and adapt a serum for humans, he had neither the tools nor the expertise to make it work for a Vulcan, not unless he had some help. And that help was currently far, far out of reach on a giant starship.

He said with a confidence he didn’t feel, “Scotty will have the transporter working in no time.”

“In the event that he does not, Doctor, and the infection is fatal, you have my permission to perform an autopsy. Perhaps in that capacity I could be useful to you.”

Leonard whirled around. “How can you be so—!” He stopped himself, swallowed hard. “Don’t be morbid. You’re not going to die. I won’t let you.”

“The proposal is a practical one, given that you have no method of replicating a cure for a Vulcan.”

“I said I won’t let you die.”

“I heard you clearly the first time.”

They stared at one another.

“You’re cold, Spock,” Leonard said at last. “I don’t understand you.”

“Nor have I always understood you,” Spock countered with equal softness.

Leonard squared his shoulders. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll give you up without a fight.”

Spock blinked.

Leonard turned away, his mannerisms in sync with his resolution. “You’d better finish what you’re doing on that computer, Mr. Spock. From now on, you’re patient zero.”

Jim was dying.

He was vaguely aware of someone propping him up, calling to him, but his body ached and burned in turns. His mind kept confusing reality with fever-dreams. At one point, he opened his eyes, saw Governor Kodos cradling him and screamed. He couldn’t get away fast enough. The ground kept slipping and sliding under him. Hands insistently pulled him back. He was in hell.

Then it all changed. He was on the Enterprise, recognized the spartan style as Bones’ quarters. The bed sheets smelled of brandy and antiseptic. The pillow was warm. But Jim’s arms stayed empty no matter how far he stretched them. He sat up, wanting Bones, only to find himself in the captain’s chair on an empty Bridge. No, not empty; not quite. The silhouette of the officer standing in front of the main viewer, his back to Jim, was easily recognizable.

Jim called out to him.

Spock turned his head and said, “Wake up, Jim.”

Jim did.

The silo was completely dark and eerily silent. Kirk tried to wet his lips but his mouth was dry. His throat ached as though he had been grieving, and his limbs moved with uncharacteristic stiffness. The skin of his face felt cold rather than hot. Maybe he had come back from death, he thought. Wasn’t that what the Governor wanted? For them all to be reborn?

He remembered, then, that he wasn’t alone. “…Ram?”

Ram didn’t answer.

Jim forced himself to sit up. “Ramses?”

No deeper shadows, no rustling movements. Jim saw nothing and heard no one except himself breathing.

The boy was gone.

“I told you to stay with McCoy.”

Blanca was a tough woman and had never backed down from a challenge in her life. She countered, “I’m fit for duty, sir.”

Giotto appeared to think it wasn’t worth the effort to argue with her because, after a long minute of staring at her without blinking, he said, “You may relieve Danson, Lieutenant. Send him here.”

She saluted her commanding officer and marched off to find Danson.

Danson was in the middle of a debate with Sandeep about something or other that had them talking in hushed voices.

Blanca interrupted them. “Danson, the boss wants you.”

“Fine,” replied the other officer, shifting his phaser to his opposite hand, “but now you have to take up my cause as well as my station, Olivares.”

She watched him leave with her eyebrows raised. “What cause?” she asked her new partner.

“Danson doesn’t get it,” he said. “I tried explaining it to him a thousand times but he just can’t see it.”

“I need more specifics than that, Sandeep.”

All of a sudden Sandeep looked uncomfortable. “It’s, er, about them.”

The woman resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

After a surreptitious glance at the neighboring officers on also on guard duty, Sandeep leaned her way and whispered, “I’m talking about Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy.”

“What about them?”

“They’re—” The man made a weird gesture his hands. “—involved.”

Blanca grabbed a fistful of the idiot’s hair and jerked his head back so she could scowl in his face. “Are you spreading rumors about your superiors, Lt. Balasubramaniam?”

Sandeep’s eyes grew large. In the same breath, he exclaimed, “You can pronounce my name!” and “No, of course not!”

She eyed him warily, then let him go. “So what the hell did you mean?”

“They’re involved l-like an u-unit! A team!”

As Blanca considered that, her temper subsided. “Of course they’re a team. They’re Senior Command.”

“It’s more than that.” Sandeep cringed back like he expected her to jump at him again and explained in a rush, “I’m just saying they are important to each other on a… a personal level. Not like personal-personal but like… personal.”

If this was the way Sandeep always conversed, it was little wonder Danson had been utterly unconvinced. “Listen up. If you’re saying our Captain is friends with his First Officer and CMO, anybody with two eyes and one brain cell can see that. If you’re saying they might have a little more interest in each other than is friendly, then that’s obvious too.”

Sandeep’s eyes bugged out.

Blanca cocked a hip. “But you can’t go around flapping your lips about it, Sandeep. Private business isn’t our business—even when McCoy is running around like a chicken with its head cut off, Mr. Spock is little better, and the Captain is heedless of the way he affects them. Our job is to keep them alive so that they can function together when the time comes.”

“Why?”

“Because we won’t accomplish nearly as much as we can without them.”

“That makes them sound like gods.”

She snorted. “If you want gods, you won’t find them on a starship—not the Enterprise, at least.”

He nodded and added a bit sheepishly, “I wasn’t trying to offend anyone. I’m just…”

“Amazed,” she finished for him. “Sometimes I am too.” Mainly, the woman kept to herself, that my seniors are such knuckleheads they can’t figure out what’s standing right in front of them.

Sandeep gave her a wide grin.

Blanca almost grinned back. Instead she crossed her arms in a business-like manner, lifted her chin, and said, “On that note, do you want to help me find Captain Kirk?”

The organism under the microscope’s lens twitched.

“What in heck is this?” Leonard muttered to himself as he magnified the view.

It had been difficult to isolate the virus. The skin cells of Spock’s rash were inconclusive, and his Vulcan blood was full of peculiar anomalies, of which only about half made sense to Leonard at any given time, let alone when possibly infected. Now that he thought he finally had a glimpse of what the agent looked like, he was wondering if his eyesight was bad.

That, or he had come upon something which was like no other known disease.

“I need a live specimen,” he said, leaning back from the microscope.

From across the laboratory counter, Spock lifted his eyebrow. “I consider myself alive, Doctor.”

Leonard flapped a dismissive hand. “That ice water you call blood is about as useful as one of Scotty’s engineering manuals.”

Spock looked at him in such a way that Leonard thought he might be amused.

“What?” he challenged.

“You are not an engineer.”

“I’m not a certified Vulcan specialist either!”

“Obviously.”

Leonard grumbled for some seconds. “You’re awfully cheerful for a sick person.”

“Other than the rash, I can detect nothing abnormal in my biological processes.”

“Which is why I need someone who is feeling abnormal, Spock. Someone in a… later stage. And preferably human, so I have a better chance of figuring out what we’re dealing with.”

“Then I apologize that I cannot be of more use to you.”

Leonard almost reached out to pat Spock’s arm. He blinked. Where had that urge come from?

The doctor sidled a little farther down the counter and retrieved his tricorder. “I should go back to the hall. Take more readings of the locals. They’re connected to this somehow. They could have the answer.”

“No.”

Leonard glanced up, frowned. “Why not?”

“The risk is too great.”

His frown deepened. “We have the situation under control.”

Spock left his stool, came towards McCoy. “You would be foolish to believe that. What caused the colonists to attack us may indeed come from a contagion but the person who cultivated their wrath, who has in fact perpetrated this dangerous series of events, remains at large. I have no doubt that he means us harm, Dr. McCoy. Captain Kirk is his primary target but, undoubtedly, we have also become persons of interest—which makes us liabilities to Jim.”

“You can’t confine me to this facility, Mr. Spock,” Leonard argued. “In a medical crisis, my authority supersedes yours.”

“You are not listening to my concerns.”

“I heard them well enough!” Leonard put down the tricorder. “But I’m telling you no more hiding me, Spock. And yes I know what that means!”

Spock asked neutrally, “Do you?”

“You don’t think I can handle myself!” The doctor flushed with anger. “Admit it. You’ve always thought of me as a liability. It’s not just this mission, not just because I love Jim. Hell, you’ve pretty much said the reason you don’t approve of our relationship is because you think I’m no good for him!”

Spock stepped closer until the only object separating them was the counter. “You should not make inferences when you do not have the appropriate information.”

Leonard leaned across the counter. “I have to infer, Spock, because you refuse to tell me what you’re feeling!”

“Would you truly understand me if I explained?” Spock wanted to know. “Would you accept what I have to say despite your numerous claims that I am not capable of emotion?”

“Of course you’re capable, you damn Vulcan! You’re the one who chooses to ignore the fact that you do feel!”

“Not this time,” came the Vulcan’s rumbling reply as he reached for Leonard.

“How touching.“

Spock’s hand froze near the doctor’s face. Leonard, already frozen by the unmistakable intention in Spock’s eyes, unfroze. He swallowed and managed to look towards the newcomer.

Augustus Tappan stood in the entryway to the lab with a smile that wasn’t at all pleasant.

“I apologize for interrupting,” he said, “but your lovers’ spat will have to wait. I need your assistance.”

Leonard’s gaze dropped to the phaser in Tappan’s hand. Damn. “I don’t think assistance is the right word.”

Tappan lifted the weapon slightly. “Hands where I can see them, please. Mr. Spock,” he said in warning when the Vulcan lowered his hands instead.

Leonard raised his hands. He nodded slightly to Spock, who slowly raised his hands as well.

Tappan came forward.

Dread formed in the pit of Leonard’s stomach. “What did you do to the guard?” he asked.

“I killed him.”

Leonard’s hands dropped out of shock but when Tappan aimed the phaser directly at him, Leonard quickly returned to his former position.

“You bastard,” he said, voice roughened by grief.

“Dr. McCoy, is that really something you should say to the man who holds your life in his hands?”

“I don’t care for threats. If you’re going to shoot me, do it already.”

“Mr. Tappan will not injure either of us,” Spock stated, sounding much too calm. “He said he requires our assistance.”

“Very astute of you, Mr. Spock,” praised Tappan. “Unfortunately, I need McCoy more than I need you.”

Leonard nearly jumped forward. “Don’t hurt him!” The damn counter kept him from shielding Spock, but he could and would beg for the Vulcan’s life if he had to.

Tappan looked at him. “Wake up Thomas.”

“I can’t. I have nothing to counteract the sedative with.”

“I did my research on you, Dr. McCoy. You’re very intelligent, very creative when it comes to creating medical miracles. Find a way.” He pointed the phaser at Spock. “Or he will die.”

It was Spock who supplied the solution. “Dr. McCoy tells the truth. It is not possible for him to rouse Mr. Walken.” He paused. “I, however, can.”

Tappan considered Spock in silence for awhile. “How?” he asked.

“Through a technique known only to Vulcans. I will stimulate his consciousness.”

“Spock,” Leonard said, alarmed, “the risk—”

“Is minimal to myself,” finished Spock. “I am very capable in this regard, Doctor.”

“Well I don’t like it.”

“I do.” Tappan nodded to Spock. “You may proceed, Commander, but I give you fair warning: if you betray me, the first person to suffer will be Dr. McCoy.”

“Understood.”

Tappan made Spock and McCoy walk side by side to the patient ward. Walken had been rolled over onto his back. Spock knelt to the floor and arranged his hands at the man’s temples. Leonard noted it didn’t look like Spock was preparing to enter the typical mind meld, but he didn’t say anything. He just watched.

“My mind to your mind… my thoughts to your thoughts…”

Tappan stood with his lips parted, gaze transfixed, clearly fascinated by the show.

Spock fell silent and stayed silent for several minutes. Leonard began to shift in agitation. He knew Spock was up to something that Tappan wouldn’t like.

Finally, Spock withdrew his hands and said, “Mr. Walken, welcome back.”

Tom Walken opened his eyes. Then he sat straight up, blinked, and grinned. Or rather, his lips pulled back from his teeth.

On instinct Leonard backed up a few steps as the man climbed to his feet.

Tappan hurried forward. “Thomas!”

Tom said in monotone, “Hello, Governor,” and held out a hand as if asking for something.

Tappan drew a second phaser from his jumpsuit and gave it to Walken.

Tom grinned without emotion again and, without ceremony, stunned Tappan.

Leonard leaped out of the way as Tappan keeled over. Spock calmly took the phaser from Walken’s hand.

“My god,” said the doctor, unable to look away from Walken, who lowered his hand and stood like a mannequin, staring vacantly ahead of him. “Are you controlling him?”

Spock retrieved Tappan’s phaser as well. “In a manner of speaking, Doctor. His consciousness is still dormant. I issued a set of instructions for his body to follow, the objective being to disarm and disable Tappan.”

Leonard turned to stare at Spock instead of Tom. “Disable?”

Spock didn’t elaborate.

Leonard bit his tongue, deciding the less he knew about the particulars, the better. He nudged Tappan with his foot. “Let’s deal with this idiot first. We don’t have a brig, but we can certainly tie him to a chair.” His eyes narrowed. “I have plenty of questions to ask him.”

“He will likely refuse to share Jim’s location.”

Leonard’s gaze narrowed further. “Who says I’m going to give him a choice?”

Spock didn’t reply to that. He bent down, picked up the unconscious man, and settled him over his shoulder, then looked at Leonard expectantly.

Leonard led the way back to the lab. He only paused once to glance over his shoulder at the frozen form of Walken, still staring ahead.

Spock, the doctor decided, could be exceptionally scary at times. How funny that Leonard should like him all the more for it.

It had been luck to catch Tappan sneaking towards the barn then to the grainhouse. Karen had been even luckier to escape his notice when he had stormed out of a tall silo unexpectedly and alone.

She hadn’t been certain what to call it when she discovered her son inside. Now they were both on the move, silently slipping between the warehouses, circling farther and farther away from the guarded domes in the waning daylight.

She was having a difficult time putting together a plan.

“We need to go back.”

“No.”

“I could have carried him. I can still do it!”

Karen spun around and told her son bluntly, “I said no, Ramses.”

Ram bared his teeth at her, looking momentarily wild-eyed. “I can’t believe you would do this. You’re no better than Dad!”

Her patience was nearing its end. Thought she hadn’t had to drag him forcefully away from the silo, Ram was still intent on making her feel regret. With every step that took them farther from Kirk, his words grew more heated, his voice louder. She didn’t understand why he was so adamant about a man he didn’t know. She tried explaining again, “Kirk wasn’t in his right mind. He attacked you!”

“He was trying to get away from me! The Captain’s sick, I told you that!”

“We’ll send someone to fetch him.”

Ram grabbed her forearm and demanded, “Why should I believe you? Either of you? Dad locked me in that silo, and you’re working with him.”

Her expression darkened. “Your father will answer for what he did to you, Ramses. I promise that.”

Ram laughed, the sound bitter. “Stop lying. You won’t touch Dad and we both know it.”

She gritted her teeth. “That’s not true.”

“You’re weak!” Ram spat back. “He’ll give you some lame excuse and you’ll forgive him! You always do!”

“Is it a crime to love your father?” she shouted.

“Yes!” Ram answered.

Karen tried to shake off his hand. His grip only tightened.

“Yes, it is a crime,” her son repeated, “because he doesn’t love you back!”

Karen flinched. A physical blow would have hurt less. She tried to reason with him. “We’ve never told you our history. You can’t understand what is between your father and I—”

Ram cut her off. “A man who loves you doesn’t ask you to trade your career for a prison cell. A man who should love his child doesn’t throw that child away. A man who has a shred of conscience doesn’t poison the livelihood of a thousand people!”

“What are you talking about?” she questioned sharply.

“Mom, for once, shut up. You’re more of a fool than I thought.” Ram stepped right up to her. He had gained more of the physique of a man than a boy since the last time she visited Tassos III and now almost towered over her.

For the first time, she felt a beat of fear when she looked at him.

“I don’t know why I care about you,” he said coldly. “I don’t think I will care anymore.”

She tried to cup his face. He knocked her hand aside. His grip on her arm began to bruise her.

“Ram… Ramses, what’s wrong with you? You’re hurting me.”

Ram smiled in a way that turned Karen cold. The eyes staring at her were no longer familiar. Something was very, very wrong. Even before his fingers encircled her throat, she realized with frightening clarity that the person she had saved from the silo was not her son.

With nearly every man, woman, and child contained inside of the central dome, the colony looked deserted: tools left astray, a windmill creaking in the distance, the occasional hum of a power generator. Sandeep slapped a small penlight against his hand as it flickered on and off. They didn’t have much sunlight left.

Out of a need to break the silence more than curiosity, he wanted to know, “Why did the boss agree to let us look for Kirk by ourselves?”

“He owes me.”

Sandeep wished he knew the story behind that statement. The thought that the Enterprise’s Chief of Security owed anyone any favors really shocked him. He knew at some point Kirk had fended off an unwanted career advancement for the man, but other than that most people—even Giotto’s direct reports—tended to stick strictly to business when confronted with Giotto’s gruff personality.

A possibility occurred to him. “Did you save his life once?” Sandeep guessed.

The officer at his side laughed. “Giotto never needs saving,” was her reply. She added tartly, “And that’s all I can say on the matter.”

Sandeep was disappointed, almost so much so that in his distraction he nearly ran into Olivares when she stopped walking.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

Sandeep paused to listen. Eventually he recognized a faint sound to the west of them. Someone was weeping.

Blanca jogged in that direction, Sandeep close behind. The scene they came upon drew them up short.

Ambassador Leta, her face blotchy and a bloody farming tool in hand, looked up at them from the ground. She pleaded, “Help him! Please, please, help him!”

Blanca knelt silently by the body and put a hand to his neck. “He’s alive,” she said.

“I didn’t mean it—oh god, I didn’t mean it!” The woman shook with her distress. “He wouldn’t stop! He was going to kill me! Oh god, Ram… Ramses…”

Sandeep caught Olivares’ gaze. She mouthed, “Her son.”

Oh shit. Ambassador Leta had attacked her own son? Why?

Blanca asked her, “Are you hurt?”

The woman shook her head, shivered violently, and began to cry again. She was in shock, Sandeep realized.

Sandeep circled to Blanca’s side. “What should we do?”

“He needs medical attention.”

Sandeep glanced at the Ambassador but she didn’t appear to be cognizant anything except her horror. “What if he… is like the others?”

Blanca stood up. “We will have to take that chance, Sandeep. We can’t leave him here to die.”

Leta’s head jerked up. “Don’t let him die!” she begged. “Help him, please! I—I will do anything you want!”

Olivares tensed. “Do you know where Captain Kirk is?”

“In the silo!” The woman flung her arm wide, which wasn’t helpful, but her confession gave them the information they needed. “The grain silo past the barn!”

Sandeep’s heart pounded. They finally knew where Kirk was! “Should I—”

“Help me lift him,” Blanca ordered, reaching for one of the young man’s limp arms.

“But what about the Captain?”

She flipped her communicator open with the other hand. “Olivares to Giotto.”

“Giotto here.“

“Kirk is in the one of the silos beyond the barn.”

“Are you en route?“

“Negative. Lt. Balasubramaniam and I are headed to the medical facility. The Ambassador is in our custody.”

“Good work, Lieutenants. Proceed.”

She closed the communicator, and Sandeep helped her haul Leta’s son upright. Leta dropped the tool and clumsily came to her feet.

He wondered how Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy were going to react to the news of Kirk’s recovery, but then he realized he would likely found out before anyone.

He just didn’t know why he had an uneasy feeling about it all.

Tappan woke up and started laughing. Leonard had known they had a madman on their hands, but now he had to wonder just how mentally unhinged Tappan was compared to the other colonists. While their previous attackers had been wildly violent, Tappan’s show of lucidity was the exact opposite of chaotic. There was cleverness in the eyes hidden behind his pair of glasses; there was self-control in the way he relaxed into the chair, and premeditation in his words and actions.

“This is not what I expected,” the man said after testing the straps McCoy had used to bind him. “I have been well and truly caught. You have my admiration.”

Spock moved to stand directly in front of Tappan. He locked his hands behind his back. “Where is Captain Kirk?”

“Kirk is probably dead by now. I wouldn’t bother.”

A muscle twitched in Spock’s cheek. Leonard forced himself to stay quiet. He had agreed to let Spock lead the interrogation since Spock had made the valid point Leonard might not be able to keep a cool head.

“I am perfectly capable of taking the information from you,” Spock said.

Well, so much for Spock being the more controlled of the two of them.

“You wouldn’t waste time talking to me if you intended to rape my mind, Mr. Spock.”

Spock didn’t flinch but Leonard did.

Tappan’s look turned shrewd. “Was that what you did to Thomas? What would your people say about you abusing the free will of another living creature?”

“That’s enough!” Leonard barked, stepping towards the man in the chair. “If you want to talk about foul deeds, let’s discuss yours, which includes murder!“

“Doctor.”

Leonard pursed his mouth in dismay but swallowed his next comment.

“Mr. Tappan, you are correct in a sense. You will not be tortured. However, given your present circumstances, you are logical enough to know it is in your best interest to cooperate.”

“I am infinitely logical, Commander Spock.”

“That statement I am afraid I cannot agree with.”

“He’s going to talk us in circles,” the doctor growled. “Just let me give him a truth serum.”

Spock raised both eyebrows. “Do you have that available?”

No, thought Leonard. Tappan didn’t know that, though. He patted the medkit at his side. “I always carry some.”

Spock’s eyebrows went up another inch.

Tappan laughed as Leonard snapped open his medkit.

“I wouldn’t piss me off if I were you!” Leonard threatened. “I can whip up a cocktail that’ll make the Rigellan pox seem like a walk in the park!”

The man kept on laughing.

Nonplussed, Leonard looked from Spock to Tappan and back again. “Spock, I think he’s finally lost his mind.”

“Like the others, it seems.”

“Oh, I’m not mad,” the leader of Tassos III insisted. “I am entertained by your situation.”

“There’s nothing funny about this situation! People are dying!”

“I wonder,” he went on to muse, “if you say that because of your Vulcan or because of yourself?”

For some reason, Spock stiffened.

Leonard didn’t understand his meaning. “What?”

Tappan smiled. “It’s obvious to me. You’re infected, Dr. McCoy. Time is running out… for all of you.”

Leonard just stared at him. It was Spock who reached for Leonard, who gently drew down the doctor’s collar of his blue tunic to reveal a familiar discoloration across his collarbone. Leonard didn’t have to see the rash to know it was there. The spot suddenly itched with a fierceness.

Damn, he thought. He had hoped he had more time. In that, Tappan was right.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Spock? Have you lost hope now that you will lose your doctor as well as your captain?” Tappan taunted.

Leonard’s mouth thinned into a grim line. He had had enough. “Spock, I don’t say this often, but I want you to shut this man up.”

Spock looked at Tappan queerly. “It would be my pleasure, Leonard.”

Tappan lost his smile.

Leonard would have stayed to watch the nerve-pinch but just then Spock’s communicator beeped from beside the computer terminal, and he went to fetch it.