The moons grew brighter in the sky, grew craggy, circular features on their faces.

Kirk said, "Tell me more about this virus you wrote."

"It is an adaptation of code I started when I was eleven. At that time I resisted doing the exercises I was given. I wanted to write a program that overcame all other programs. A program that did its own programming by exploiting code it found. We are set to compete against each other in our lessons and I was determined to prove something."

He paused. "When I was older, I was encouraged to work on artificial intelligence, but I did not like that sort of coding. I wanted to work on something with the elegance of biology. The mindless reordering of genetics."

"You wrote an actual virus."

"Indeed. That was not the difficult part. The difficult part was representing any target system in the same terms so that the virus can utilize the program machinery it finds for its own purposes, just like a virus forces host cell rna to do its work. That is my program's weak spot, if it has one, that it had to have at least a few cases hard coded into it. It was not possible to create a fully generic representation of any adaptable computer system so that the code could mutate as I wanted it to."

"And it won't work on a non-adaptable one. Say, a simple embedded system."

"Correct."

"And the rebel colonists built adaptable bots."

"The systems they built upon have such features natively, and the wide range of environments they must operate in make it essential that the bots learn and share learning. Sharing parameter data would not suffice. I have a theory that the colonists didn't know how to avoid building in this manner, that in fact, the default systems they designed from are responsible for their success, not the colonists' intentional programmatic design."

Kirk felt chilled. "You think the robot army built itself up into the success that it is?"

"Not in an artificial intelligence sense. There is no AI present. It is simply biological style optimization run over enough generations of programmatic change. Every time one bot has a better outcome that learning is transferred to the others. And not just at the individual level, also at the network level, in the very way they organize themselves. Witness the two scouts who sprinted toward us. They were gathering data, trying a new program out. The network assigned them that task, therefore their learning, or in this case, my virus, was easily transferred back to the swarm from one of those units."

Kirk said, "No wonder we've been having such a miserable time of it. The Federation should have every advantage of resources and technology, but we are slowly falling behind."

Daybreak came on in earnest. Kirk stood before the high shelter, looking out. Spock was studying samples of dirt he'd collected on their surveys.

Kirk was feeling less hungry, as if he'd passed through the pain of it as through a curtain and now glided over it, untouched. Mostly. Spock had found a salt deposit so Kirk no longer felt dizzy when he drank enough water to make his stomach feel full for a few minutes.

Kirk said, "Can you make the escape pod orbit once with the scanner? There was another landing party, four thousand clicks to the east."

"It will be nearly impossible to rendezvous with them."

"I am curious if they are all right. But I don't want to put the equipment at undue risk either."

"I can lighten the pod to the minimum so it will need very little power to complete this task."

Spock did basic maintenance on the engines of the pod and rigged the medical sensor into it. Kirk helped as much as he could, determined to stay out of the way. Spock was clearly accustomed to working alone. A few hours later, Kirk watched the pod as it faded to a speck on the horizon. He wasn't feeling hopeful about much. Learning that Red and his team were okay would help Kirk's outlook a lot.

The pod returned within the hour, not orbiting, but making a round trip.

Spock moved his fingers over the controls of the medical scanner. Minutes passed. Kirk moved over beside him to look too, but the screen was updating too rapidly for Kirk to interpret it.

Spock said, "Your estimate for the distance away. How accurate is that?"

Kirk thought back to their briefing before the landing. "Four thousand one hundred eighty clicks. Ninety mark three."

Spock raised a brow, then returned to the sensor. After a few minutes, he shook his head. "There are no life signs. This device is not sensitive at range, however. And it would be easy to block. Under current atmospheric conditions your communicator should be in range at least one quarter of the time. But you have received no response on it."

Kirk climbed away over the uneven rocks, partly because he needed to move but partly to keep his emotions to himself. He felt bleak. He stood where the rise formed a ridge that fell away into a valley off to the south. He was becoming familiar with the barren alien landscape and that did not improve his mood.

A pebble sliding into a crevice made Kirk turn. Spock had followed him.

Kirk said, "What are the chances that your virus is the reason the Sanchez hasn't returned?"

"I have already computed that. I give it less than two percent chance. And that is with some assumptions applied. One: that they encountered the robot pickup ship leaving orbit and engaged with it. Two: that they either communicated with it over an insecure connection capable of not just data, but code. This would be a gross security risk and I think it doubtful. Or that they brought aboard equipment from that ship."

"I doubt they would do that. But I suppose it's possible." Kirk sighed. "I want to hope the virus is the reason. At the same time I want to gut punch you for making it the reason."

Spock took a step back.

Kirk laughed without feeling it. "Sorry. I won't hit you. Realize that normally, if lunch is an hour late I get moody." He felt badly for threatening violence on his only companion, and a kid, no less. His mood slipped farther.

Spock said, "If you instigate violence you will lose rather badly."

Kirk's face broke into a grin. "Promise?"

Spock's eyes studied his own. "That is not a rational response."

"Yes it is. If you feel confident to stand against me, then I won't feel guilty for letting that slip."

"Ah. I see. Yes, I am quite confident. My family traditions keep alive several martial arts that would otherwise have been lost."

"In that case you can be confident I won't be hitting you. I don't have the strength to anyway."

Kirk looked out again, memorizing the view for lack of anything else to do. "Assuming that the Sanchez cannot show up, for whatever reason. Starfleet will send another ship, but it may be weeks. Or months. This is how the rebel colonists get us. They make us make bad decisions, like assuming this was an easy mission for a single small ship. They always seem to have more resources to throw at us than we expect. And are picking us off one at a time, which stretches the fleet even thinner."

Kirk rubbed his face, his eyes. Somewhere deep inside himself was that optimism that usually never failed him.

Spock said, "I have an experiment, but it needs to be conducted in the ravine where there is more moisture."

Kirk dropped his arm. "Let's go then."

Spock collected things on the way, branches, dirt from crevices in the rocks. Kirk started collecting similar things, hooking the thumb of his useless hand in the edge of his shirt to carry them. It felt good to have something to do. It kept his brain from feeling like it was vibrating in his skull.

Spock pounded the twigs into a mulch, mixed it with different soils. He could have been in a lab for all the precision he was using. He gave Kirk the task of hollowing stones into shallow vessels with the phaser.

Kirk longed to sleep, but there was a lot of daylight left. He was having flashbacks to his academy survival trip. He'd been insanely hungry then too, but he'd known it had an end, a return to a real bed. Lots to eat. He had stopped fantasizing about a shower to cut down on the number of things he longed for. He wondered if he could roll in the dust and feel cleaner, and the itching would stop. Dust had gotten under his padding, was abrading his neck. He wore it loosely, but that made it worse since it collected more dust. He'd have to try beating it on a rock.

They went deeper into the ravine, carrying a vessel under each arm. Kirk hadn't even asked what they were doing. He amused himself by not asking until they stopped.

"There are spores for several species of edible mushrooms in the soil. Likely imports from other colony worlds."

"We're growing mushrooms."

"Under the right conditions they will emerge quite rapidly, especially some of the hyper-modified varieties I believe I am detecting."

Spock arranged the vessels where there was moisture and indirect light.

Kirk said, "Is there anything you aren't an expert on?"

Spock finished and stood before saying. "I am not an expert at detecting sarcasm." He began walking away.

Kirk followed. "That wasn't sarcasm."

"It did not sound like flattery."

"Spock." Kirk grabbed his arm to turn him around. Spock flailed his arm wide, freeing himself. His posture remained alarmed, only calming by degrees.

"I'm sorry," Kirk said, feeling his shoulders fall.

They were in a narrow warm spot of the ravine, out of the wind. The heat made Kirk want to lay there and soak it up like a nutrient.

"I'm not at my best right now. I wasn't sarcastic or flattering. Just impressed by how much you know. That's all. I'm sorry I touched you. I'm an idiot. I do know better."

Kirk kept talking, seeking the magical combination of words to get back to where they had been. "I'm not sure how I offended you just now. I didn't mean to. I like you."

Spock studied him. He nodded. That was a concession. Kirk shut up then. They walked in silence back to the shelter.

In the warm shade, Kirk curled up with his shoulder pads as a pillow and tried to sleep. He swam in utter exhaustion but didn't drop off into blissful unawareness. He watched the light shadows moving across the ravine floor, closed his eyes, watched the shadows.

Despite the daytime heat, Spock sat with his blanket over his shoulders as he scanned samples of dirt.

Kirk groaned and sat up. His head lolled. He had some salt and water and felt a bit better. His body ached when he sat up; it ached when he lay down. He rested on his back, fixating on the arch of carved rock. The sweeps from the phaser had left little grooves that seemed to be trying to impress some abstract meaning on his brain.

"I do like you," Kirk said.

After a minute Kirk turned his head to look at the Vulcan.

Spock continued working. "I do not know why you would."

Kirk put his hand behind his head to prop it up. His arms felt half numb but ached despite this. He could have been drugged, or ill with something nasty. The idea that mere food would cancel out his physical problems irked him.

"I don't need a good reason. You are likable."

"Your choices in companionship are somewhat limited at this time."

Kirk smiled. "They are. But even so. I'd chose you over most of my shipmates if I was faced with an actual choice."

Spock looked up. "That is not logical."

"I don't care. Even so I think I can argue it is. But I don't have the strength to argue."

"You have two energy bars remaining."

Kirk sat up. "Want half?"

Spock actually rolled his eyes, mostly sideways, but it made Kirk smile more. He fetched out the open snack bar and handed half over.

"Eat yours first," Kirk said. "I don't trust you."

Spock did.

Kirk nibbled on his, one tiny morsel at a time. Saliva poured into his mouth, flooding out of his lips, made each morsel float on an ocean. He might have spent half an hour eating two and a half bites.

Kirk said, "Now you want to argue?"

"If you wish."

Kirk propped himself up on his pads, legs stretched out crossed before him. This laziness was like shore leave only with much less food and booze.

"I think you are . . . let's see. I shouldn't use human terms." Kirk closed his eyes, trying to make his brain work. He wanted to say 'kind' but couldn't reframe it in safe terms. "Good at handling stress. You are easy to work with, and that's considering we've never worked together before. You are-"

"You are not trying to flatter me?"

"I don't get that. Where does that come from?" Kirk sat up. He felt drunk the way sitting straight was so difficult. "I don't mind you asking. I just don't understand that misunderstanding. It worries me. Frankly."

Spock relaxed. Kirk could see it as a process. He didn't speak while it progressed.

Kirk eventually said, "So. I understand you don't want to be flattered. That's perfectly acceptable. I'm not doing that. I'm telling you how I perceive you. That's all. Some people like receiving positive reinforcement."

Spock looked down at his work.

Kirk watched him. He looked vulnerable. Kirk could think of only one explanation. "Are you that unaccustomed to being told you did something well?"

"I am generally behind my peers."

"So what?"

"It is not acceptable in my family."

Kirk stared. "I'm probably going to say something I'll regret here." He sorted through things to say because 'why the hell did they mix with humans in that case' was all he could think of. "I just wonder why don't they logically expect you to be at least a little different." He huffed and leaned back on his pads. "So many parents have children and expect clones."

Spock's gaze was piercing. "Did your father expect a clone?"

"I don't know. He died when I was young. I didn't see him much. He was like me now. A Lieutenant in Starfleet."

Kirk shrugged. "I see it too much. We get a lot of kids come through. That's part of my job. I sort out who is really capable of what. Half the time, people are struggling to separate out what they want from their parents' expectations when suddenly that oppressive control is half a galaxy away. It's refreshing and surprising when it's not the case."

Kirk spoke into the ensuing silence. "I disappointed the hell out of my mom. She sure as hell didn't want me in Starfleet."

"Understandable."

Kirk waved his arms. "Spock, you're-" He almost said 'beautiful'. Kirk leaned his head back and talked to the rocky ceiling above. "I shouldn't say any more." But after a moment he added, "You are a nice companion to be stranded with. Let's just leave it at that."

Kirk closed his eyes. He swam again in fatigue, but didn't sleep. A long time passed. An hour maybe.

Kirk sat up suddenly. "Anything on the scanner?"

Spock picked his scanner up and moved it around. "Nothing."

"Sorry. I may be starting to hallucinate. I thought I heard something."

"There was nothing."

Kirk curled up on his side this time. He felt he weighed twice normal the way his bones ached where they pressed into the ground.