Chapter Three: The Marriage of True Minds

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"I'm doing this under protest," Leonard McCoy says, standing on the transporter pad and shifting his medkit to his shoulder.

On the pad to McCoy's left, Spock feels a blaze of fury from Nyota that isn't communicated just across their bond. Apparently McCoy feels it, too.

"Don't look at me like that," McCoy says, turning toward where Nyota stands on his right. "The last time I tried to use this thing, I got hijacked. You can't blame me for being squeamish."

Before Nyota can respond, Spock says, "The shuttle would require both more personnel and more travel time, Doctor. We discussed this."

McCoy huffs loudly.

"I know that! I'm just making conversation."

Spock meets Nyota's gaze. His concern is not unfounded, he thinks.

It's true. The last time he and McCoy were transported together, an alien life form interrupted their transporter beam. If the Enterprise crew hadn't figured out how to find them—and if the aliens hadn't agreed to help them, despite great personal sacrifice—that transporter ride would have been their last.

Nyota's annoyance with the doctor softens a bit. Then Spock feels a ripple of an unnamed emotion from her. She's planning something.

"It's not too late to back out," Nyota says to McCoy. "The Vulcan healers haven't been able to do anything for Saril. If they can't, I don't know why you might be able to. Maybe Dr. M'Benga can return from his new posting on—"

"Now, wait a minute!" McCoy protests. As Nyota had known he would. Spock gives her an appreciative glance. "Just because I don't want to have my molecules scrambled doesn't mean I don't think—"

"Energize," Spock says, and the transporter room disappears in a shimmer of gold…

….and the foyer of the medical center on New Vulcan shimmers into view.

The young Vulcan girl, T'Sela, is standing with an older Vulcan woman who is dressed as a traditional healer in a thick green robe. Nyota moves immediately toward T'Sela, her intent to touch her—or worse, to embrace her—clear. Spock's mild alarm pulls her back and she darts a look in his direction.

A flash of annoyance, but gratitude, too.

"How is Saril?" Nyota asks, and T'Sela says, "I am not allowed to see him, but T'Zara has spoken to the doctors who attend him."

"You aren't his physician?"

This from McCoy. The older woman focuses on the doctor and shakes her head slowly.

"When Saril first fell ill, I was. His care has progressed to more serious intervention."

"What exactly's going on?" McCoy says.

To his surprise, Spock feels T'Zara's gaze turn to him, her discomfort obvious.

"It is…difficult…to discuss with outworlders. Perhaps you—?" she says.

At once he knows what T'Zara is asking. He flushes hard—and feels Nyota's concern ripple to him.

Before he can answer, however, T'Sela does.

"Pon farr," she says. "There are reported cases of premature onset of blood fever in older adolescents on the colony. Saril and I know of three other friends who have begun experiencing the symptoms."

T'Sela's recitation is matter-of-fact, delivered evenly and without inflection, yet Spock sees a telltale sheen of moisture along her brow and over her lip. She's not as imperturbable as she would like to appear.

"If that's all—" Nyota says, her relief flooding them both.

"What a minute," McCoy says, frowning. "Am I the only one here who doesn't know what the hell is going on?"

"Yes," T'Sela says at once, and McCoy looks more than a little nonplussed. "Vulcan males experience pon farr in a seven year cycle—"

"I know that much!" McCoy says. "But you said Saril was dying. I thought the cure was…you know, at hand."

The Vulcan healer leans forward and speaks so softly that even Spock has to strain to hear.

"There are reports of increased numbers of young men going into pon farr since the destruction of Vulcan," she says.

"Well, that seems logical," McCoy says. Catching Spock's eye, he hurries to add, "I mean, the whole purpose of this pon farr thing is to…prime the pump, so to speak."

T'Zara straightens up. Spock looks away.

With an audible sigh, the doctor throws his hands up. A sign of surrender? Nyota grimaces and Spock realizes that McCoy is more embarrassed than genuinely exasperated.

"But I still don't see why this is a medical emergency." McCoy's voice is gruffer than usual. Further proof that the topic makes him uncomfortable?

"For most of the young men, it is not," T'Zara says. "Those whose bondmates survived and have resettled on New Vulcan are doing well. However, those who enter plak-tau unbonded are slipping so quickly into a coma that even if a mate can be found, they are beyond help."

"But you and Saril—" Nyota says, and T'Sela shakes her head.

"Are not bonded. My arrangement with Tollock has not been annulled, although I have petitioned for it. We thought we had plenty of time, since the normal...onset...isn't until much later in life."

She looks up at Spock before continuing.

"Tollock agreed at first, but when we started to hear about this early pon farr, he became…hesitant. Saril did not want me to ask for the koon ut kalifee unless Tollock continued to refuse. Now it is too late, even if I am released."

"And this coma? What's causing it?" McCoy lets his medkit slip from his shoulder to the floor. Reaching into it, he takes out a padd and flicks it on.

"Your captain has asked that you be given access to our medical records and database," T'Zara says. "Saril's physicians may also agree to let you examine him, if you wish, though it is doubtful that anything more can be done for him."

"I'd like to be the judge of that, if you don't mind."

"Certainly, doctor. Commander? Lieutenant? Do you wish to accompany us?"

"What about T'Sela?" Nyota asks, turning to the tall girl. "Can she see Saril now?"

"When he was still conscious, the doctors felt her presence might agitate him further. Now, however—"

The healer lets her words drift off.

Spock brings up the rear of the group as they head through the foyer to a large corridor beyond. At the end of the hall T'Zara pauses before a large alcove and motions with her hand.

"He's here, in the far bed."

T'Sela and Nyota make their way around portable scanners and other large equipment to a curtained area where a young Vulcan woman sits beside a monitor. McCoy follows, still looking at his medical padd. Spock remains in the corridor.

"You have a question?" T'Zara says, and Spock struggles not to show his dismay that he has been so transparent.

"This premature pon farr—" he begins. To his relief, T'Zara anticipates his question.

"No one older than 20 has been affected yet. That could, of course, change. Although his metaphor was, shall we say, exceptionally colorful, Dr. McCoy was essentially correct. It is logical that normal hormonal cycles would be accelerated or altered, given the increased biological imperative to reproduce in light of….."

T'Zara falters then, and Spock meets her gaze.

No one has agreed on the terminology yet to describe what has happened to Vulcan. An act of terrorism? A planetary implosion? A cataclysm? Genocide?

Spock resists putting a label to it. To do so somehow contains it, makes it smaller than it is.

He speaks of it rarely, but when he does, he calls it that day.

"Understood," he says simply.

"It might be wise," T'Zara says, "to makes plans accordingly. For yourself. Just in case."

"I appreciate your concern, but it is unnecessary."

"You are bonded, then? But you intend to remain in the service of Starfleet? If the plak-tau is as swift for others as it is for the young, you may be away from the colony when the need arises."

The smallest tendril of uneasiness slips into Spock's awareness, but he feels compelled to respond to T'Zara. Her interest, to be sure, is well-intentioned, and as such, deserves respect.

"Lieutenant Uhura and I underwent the Van-Kal t'Telan three months ago."

"A human?"

There it is. The slightest hint of disgust. Spock has heard it for so long—in the voices of his classmates, in overheard whispers in the marketplace—that it shouldn't evoke a reaction anymore.

Instead, it makes him instantly furious.

"Spock?" Nyota calls from across the alcove. He's furious again, this time with himself for alerting her to his anger, exposing her to the almost unthinking prejudice that has made him wary about other Vulcans.

"My mother was human," he says, his expression stony. "She was killed that day."

T'Zara blinks twice in rapid succession, the only indication of her surprise.

"I grieve with thee," she says, but Spock deliberately turns his back and watches Nyota making her way across the room toward him.

"Is everything alright?"

"Saril's condition?"

He knows that Nyota will recognize his redirection for what it is, barely controlled anger. She looks him in the face an extra beat before answering.

"Dr. McCoy says he's stable for now. He'll have to see the test results to know more."

Overhearing footsteps, Spock glances backward to see T'Zara retreating down the corridor.

"Hey," Nyota says softly when he faces her. "Don't keep me out."

"It was...nothing of consequence."

"Then why—"

His chirping comm spares him from having to explain further. Pulling it from his pocket, he sees the captain's signature as he flips the comm open.

"Yes, captain?"

"Spock, how soon can you get to the justice ministry?"

The medical complex is in the center of the budding city, unlike the justice ministry which is situated on the western perimeter. 2.34 kilometers at a minimum. Spock has insufficient data concerning footpaths and available public transport to know a precise travel time. He tells the captain so.

"Just get here as soon as you can," Kirk says. "Admiral Barnett put enough pressure on the High Council to get us in to see your father. Apparently Vulcan law is really strict about post-arrest visitation. They're already saying I've had enough time."

Kirk's last words pull Spock up short.

"You have already been to see my father?"

"He asked me to come down. He wanted to show me something."

Sarek wanted to see Jim Kirk? Had asked to see him and not Spock? Spock barely has time to process that thought before he hears the captain's voice again over the comm.

"And Spock," the captain says, "you aren't going to believe it."

A/N: As promised, each chapter title is tied to William Shakespeare. This one is from Sonnet 116: "Let me not to the marriage of true minds/Admit impediments. Love is not love/Which alters when it alteration finds."

It's a lovely—and perhaps unrealistic—idea about the unchanging nature of love. For the two couples in this chapter, at least, it's what they aspire to at this point.

The reference to the hijacked transporter beam is to my little fic "Twenty-four Hundred."

For everyone who reads and reviews, thank you so much. Fanfiction pays only in reviews, so for those of you who take the time to leave a word or two, you are the reason I continue to write.

Thanks to the other terrific writers of Star Trek fanfiction who give so much pleasure for their pains, including StarTrekFanWriter, whose Kirk/T'Pring fic is a great read. Check it out in my faves: "Logical Propositions."