The further they walked, the more concerned Spock became. Lava tubes could be miles long, and though the captain made no complaints he was getting worse as time progressed. Spock began to worry over the wisdom of avoiding the Erisians in hopes of making good their own escape; even if they'd intended to use Jim and Spock as bargaining chips for Federation help with a domestic conflict, at least they might be able and willing to help Jim at the same time. Convincing Jim to go along with such a plan would have been difficult, though Spock was reasonably sure he could manage it if he had to.

They stopped frequently, not because Jim requested it but because Spock wanted him to, and it was a sign of his deteriorating condition that he didn't complain or argue.

During one such rest the sound of movement propelled them into a shallow depression in the tunnel wall. It had just enough space for the two of them to squeeze into, and at this proximity Spock could feel the captain was abnormally warm. They doused the light and held perfectly still, waiting.

Spock couldn't see the approaching group from his position, but their lights were a dull glow on the opposing wall as they came down an adjacent, intersecting tunnel. None of them spoke; the only sound was the shuffle of their movement. When they reached the intersection, their lights bobbed down a different fork than the one Jim and Spock had followed, leading them away once more.

They waited in the alcove, unmoving and barely breathing, until Spock couldn't hear the group anymore. He risked a step forward, paused, then reached behind himself and tugged at the hem of Jim's tunic. Jim followed close behind him, and they resumed their path, leaving the light off and feeling their way with their hands on the wall.

They made it another fifty meters before rounding a bend and coming face to face with a group of Erisians who had hooded their lamps and placed them into small depressions to keep the light from spreading.

The Erisians brought their weapons up in an instant, save for one individual in bright yellow and black robes, who just stared at them.

Jim and Spock stopped dead in their tracks, and Jim cut a look to him, his mouth set in a grim line. They held out their empty hands in front of them at the same time. The robed individual gestured at them, and Jim lowered his hands. Spock followed suit.

"You are far from the rest of your delegation," that one said.

Spock saw recognition in Jim's features, and he even mustered a weak smile. "There was a little problem with the floor. That stadium sure could use some renovations."

Some of the Erisians made a hissing sound; Nyota had said it was their indication of humor or amusement, but Jim watched them warily regardless. The robed one's eyes roved over Jim in turn, like they were noting his condition as compared to Spock.

"You're Ponosoi," Jim said, and some of the small party tensed, though the individual in the bright robes was not one of them.

"Yes," they said. Spock studied them; they had an air of command and authority about them, and the others cast furtive glances their way, watching how they interacted with Jim the same way Spock watched Jim interact with them.

"What did the Erisians tell you of us?" they asked.

"That you're a separate race." Jim coughed hard and wiped at his eyes. His fingertips came away dabbed with black.

The leader tipped his head, regarding Jim with greater scrutiny. "Is that all they said?"

Jim's breathing was labored, but Spock thought he could see him thinking the last three days over with excruciating care. "We couldn't help but notice there wasn't a single Ponosoi in a leadership position. Or any position of power."

Nyota had pointed it out to them on the first day. Spock felt understanding settle on him in a cold rush.

The leader tsked, and Spock suspected the sound was something like a Human's laugh. "We are biological constructs," they said, almost spitting the last word. "The Erisians made us to be their slaves."


Further explanation came in small snatches of conversation as the Ponosoi lead them through the winding lava tubes to the caverns where they lived. The leader identified himself as Qigora, and his lieutenant was the slim, lime-skinned Biraphi, but the rest did not offer their names.

The Ponosoi had been created by the Erisians to serve as an expendable labor pool, and were barely treated as 'people' despite how they outlived Erisians by decades and were a good deal more resilient to the planet's many diseases. Over the centuries handfuls of them had escaped into the wilds of the continent, hiding themselves deep in the caves that sprawled beneath the jungle-covered surface, where they'd built their own society. Every now and then an Erisian would defect and join them, and after a time one of those had turned out to be a scientist that was able to engineer them with the ability to procreate.

That had been the real turning point. Now able to reproduce on their own, their numbers had risen to the point where they could mount a proper revolt, but they lacked the industrial power the Erisians had. Even with Erisians abandoning their own people to join the Ponosoi's cause, it wasn't enough to make up for the head start the Erisian government had in terms of sheer resources.

"So you sought to infect one of their own leaders with this contaminant, and turn them into one of you," Spock said. "Then they would have no choice but to consider you from your own perspective."

Biraphi's face twisted. "Just so. Unfortunately," she examined Jim with narrowed eyes, "our aim was poor. We must apologize; it was not our intention to do this. We only wanted to expose the Erisians' duplicity."

Jim ran a hand through his hair and nodded. Spock imagined in other circumstances he might not accept an apology so easily (and especially not if it had been anyone but himself), but they had no choice. "Is it contagious?"

She shook her head. "No. It is very fragile-it is a wonder it has had any effect on you at all."

Jim coughed a morbid laugh. "I tend to be lucky like that," he said. Spock was sure Dr. McCoy would have agreed whole-heartedly.

If Biraphi thought Jim's comment was amusing, Spock couldn't tell. "The scientists should be able to fix you. They are adept at such things." She paused to look over her shoulder towards Qigora, then spoke in a lower voice. "But I must warn you. They will seek to bargain with you over it."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Bargain for what?"

"Your assistance."

Spock saw Jim go rigid. One of his hands formed a fist, then slowly relaxed. "Thanks for the head's up."

She flicked her fingers-maybe that was a form of Ponosoi acknowledgement-and pulled away, no doubt wishing to avoid drawing Qigora's attention. Spock traded a concerned glance with Jim, who sighed and rubbed at one temple.

"This is now, officially, going down in my report as a shitty mission."


One of the benefits of the Ponosoi leading them was that they had supplies. Jim didn't seem interested in eating, but water he was willing to take, and any time they stopped to drink Spock scrutinized him.

The physical changes were minor at first: patches of olive green and gray mottling on his skin; the strange, red-black tears; a faint copper color staining his fingernails. As their journey continued, though, they intensified.

The changes to his eyes were the most worrisome to Spock. The outer edge of his irises now had a glossy black ring that shown silver in certain lights, and sometimes Spock thought he saw dark green creeping from that new border into the sclera. The later effect came and went; when Jim was more lucid, the whites were clearer (if bloodshot), but when his gaze wandered Spock saw distinct veins of gleaming emerald.

As punishing as Qigora's pace was, Spock worried it wasn't fast enough.

During their last rest break, Jim settled himself down on a low, stone shelf. While Spock scanned him with a tricorder, Jim said, "I don't know what this is doing to me, but it's pretty bad."

"Indeed, Captain, your breathing is erratic and-"

"That's not what I mean." Spock looked up from his tricorder, and saw a tremor pass through Jim. "It's doing something to me. To my-head."

"Your head?"

"My mind. I keep hearing things, things that aren't there. Like, music, or voices when no one's talking. I know I'm not-I'm trying not to listen to it but it's getting hard not to. It's getting hard to concentrate." Jim groaned and doubled over, face stricken, and Spock forced himself to keep still lest they draw too much attention to themselves. He didn't want to risk that there was a point Jim might reach past which the Ponosoi would refuse to help.

"Goddammit," Jim hissed under his breath. After several more seconds he straightened and took a deep breath. Spock thought the color edging out from the beds of his fingernails was darker now, and had a metallic sheen.

"We need to get this fixed soon."

"We will, Captain."

Jim looked unconvinced. "Listen. If they can't-"

"It would be unwise for us to entertain possible courses of action until we have a better grasp on what may or may not be done." Spock was pleased his voice remained steady as he said it, because the sudden flare of emotion that backed his interruption was anything but rational or logical, and at its core was a simple truth: he had not run Khan down through the desolation of San Francisco just to lose Jim to something so capricious and random as standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Jim stared at him, then laughed; the soft, dry sound was more like a wheeze. "You and Bones. Like...two peas in a pod, with how you handle me."

"I am not sure Dr. McCoy would appreciate the comparison, nor the analogy you have used to express it."

Another laugh, this one more like himself. Spock tried to let it reassure him.

Jim rubbed at his eyes. "We're moving again."

So they were. Qigora gestured with his head further down the tunnel, and Spock nodded. He helped Jim back to his feet, and they resumed what Spock hoped was their journey to a cure.