Kirk noticed Spock glance back at the dragon as they walked under the stone arch of the building's entrance. The Vulcan's brow had furrowed very slightly when he turned forward again, but he merely gave a tiny shake of his head in reply to the captain's wordless question. Kirk glanced at the hulking guards surrounding them and resisted the urge to press his first officer. He trusted Spock's judgment in not voicing whatever his concern was.

They had barely cleared the heavy wooden doors when Varen and several guards met them in the hallway. The Captain of the Guard did not look pleased to see them.

"That dragon is obviously a Tracker," the Keeper snapped at him. "It should have been bound more securely!"

"Yes, my Lord," Varen said stiffly, clearly chaffing at the rebuke. "Lord Tomlin had insisted that the beast be given extra room for its injured wing. Had I been made aware of your visit, my Lord," he added with a touch of disapproval, "I would not have indulged the Vanguard's healer."

"I do not need your permission," the Keeper replied sharply, and Varen clenched his teeth. "See that it doesn't happen again, Varen – and find out how the Shadowguard managed to get Kirk's scent."

"Pardon?" Kirk asked, and both Varen and the Keeper turned to look at him in surprise. Kirk realized he'd spoken out of turn, but he was determined to be treated as an equal here. "My scent?"

"The dragon that attacked you," the Savant said when both men simply stared at him, "is a Tracker. They are trained to hunt by scent. Somehow, the Shadowguard must have gotten a hold of something with your scent on it, which was given to the dragon to Track you."

"I have already looked into the matter, my Lord," Varen said, looking away from Kirk as though he did not exist. "My sentry reports that Trin is the only one to come in contact with him before they were taken to the guest cottage, and no one else before the Shadowguard attacked."

Kirk frowned at the implication that Trin had sold him out, but he could not contest the fact that he had shaken the man's gloved hand. His instincts cried out at the notion, and Kirk made a short, negative gesture. "No. There must be some other explanation."

Varen finally graced him with his full attention, giving him a hard, calculating stare. Kirk glared back at him. Varen might not be in the Shadowguard's pocket, and he might have the admiration of the soldiers and riders in the Vanguard, but Kirk did not like him. There was something of the bully in this man, a snide lack of respect for people he considered beneath him. Men like that respected power and little else. So Kirk returned the stare, backing it with every ounce of authority and confidence at his disposal.

Varen's eyes narrowed a fraction. "His gloves were missing when I sent my man to check this morning."

Trin hadn't been wearing gloves when they went on their trip to the woods. Then again, he hadn't been wearing any of his riding gear aside from the saddle, which he suspected Peth had been putting on herself before being interrupted, and so Kirk stood his ground. "All that means is that someone got a hold of his riding gloves – not that Trin himself did anything wrong."

"The Shadowguard were very thorough," Spock said. If Kirk had gotten surprised looks for speaking out of turn, it was nothing compared to the almost angry look tossed their way by Varen. Before the man could object, for he clearly intended to, the Keeper waved a hand at Spock to continue. "Not only did they send a dragon, but they had a backup assault force waiting in case that failed. Were it not for Trin sounding the alarm as soon as he heard the Tracker attack the cottage, that assault force would certainly have succeeded. Why would he have done that if he was instrumental in summoning them?"

"Very true," the Keeper said thoughtfully. "I don't think the Vanguard had counted on that, or on Peth. We should all be grateful they have been staying at the Court." He gave Varen a stern look, who said nothing. "It seems more likely that some one else took them. I will speak to Trin when we return to the Court," the Keeper said, and Varen briefly dipped his head in a grudging nod of acceptance. "For now, we are here to question the prisoner."

"As you wish, my Lord," Varen said, and turned to lead the way deeper into the Keep.

They went down two flights of narrow, stone steps that eventually ended at a stout wooden door with a small window cut in it. Varen rapped on the wood, and a face looked out at them from between the metal bars of the window. The face bobbed in surprise, and then the door swung open on rusty hinges to reveal a short, heavily muscled man with thinning brown hair. The Keeper made a gesture, and the army of guards remained behind in the corridor as they were ushered inside. Kirk looked around as they were led down a corridor lined with identical doors. It was a classic dungeon, like something out of the medieval times. The stone walls down here were damp, and the air was heavy with the musty smell of mold. Kirk glanced at Spock, who raised an eyebrow in agreement.

For once, it wasn't them in the dungeon.

The guard unhooked a heavy metal ring full of keys from his belt and picked through them until he had the one he wanted. He entered first, then motioned for the rest of them.

The cell was better than Kirk was expecting. It was fairly dry, and the straw on the floor looked relatively fresh. The place didn't smell too strongly. There was no furniture, and the prisoner was sitting on the floor with one arm chained to the wall. His riding gear had been removed, and he had several new bruises across his face and bare arms, but otherwise looked in fair condition. He raised his head as they entered, and then his eyes went wide at the sight of Spock.

"Demon!" the man shouted, and tried to launch himself to his feet. Varen tensed and moved to draw his sword, but the prisoner's bindings dropped him back to the floor with a thud. "Demon," he hissed again, glaring at Spock.

Spock folded his arms across his chest and raised a single eyebrow in reply to the hostile greeting.

Varen turned to look at Spock with a condescending smile. "Congratulations, Outworlder – you've managed to get the first words out of him since he was brought in."

"Where has our shuttle been taken?" Kirk asked the man.

The Shadowguard's lips pulled back in a feral smile. "You're a dead man, alien. It's only a matter of time. We don't want your filth here," he said and spat on the ground at Kirk's feet.

"A pity," the Keeper said as Kirk turned away.

Kirk met Spock's gaze. He could think of only way, at the moment, to get the information they needed. If his ship was in danger, he'd order anything - taboos be damned. But his ship wasn't under any threat, and so the choice was Spock's. Spock's brows drew together and he unfolded his arms reluctantly, but did not have time to move.

"Kill him," the Keeper said calmly, and Varen drew his sword.

"Now, wait a minute!" Kirk demanded, then stopped in shock as the blade swung around and neatly impaled the rider through the chest.

Kirk stared in horror as Varen withdrew his sword and wiped it clean on the dead man's shirt before holstering it. Kirk shot a scathing glare at Varen, but rounded on the Keeper in fury. "That wasn't necessary!"

The Keeper blinked at him in confusion. "Of course it was," he replied. He gestured at the corpse. "Keeping him alive only invites rescue or runs the risk of escape, and they never talk."

Kirk bit off his angry words. What was done was done. Spock's face, when he glanced at him, was as expressionless as granite, and Kirk knew his first officer was just as appalled – probably much more so – as he was. Aside from the pointless loss of life, Kirk was irritated that they'd lost their chance to locate the shuttle. As much as he didn't want to admit it, finding the Copernicus was beginning to become a priority. If things kept going this way, Spock would end up giving the trade speech to the council.

"I hadn't thought we'd get anything out of him," the Keeper said as though Kirk's outrage was of no consequence. "I was really much more interested in the dragon. As I said, this is the first one we've ever managed to take alive and uninjured enough to salvage. And a Tracker! There hasn't been a Tracker born to the Vanguard in almost two generations!"

"Yes," Varen said, with a thoughtful expression. "With some retraining, this might be a very useful development."

The Savant sighed. "Shame we couldn't find out about your shuttle, though."

"Your transport is missing?" Varen asked with surprise that seemed just a touch forced.

Kirk decided to take a gamble. "Yes," he said, but gave a negligent wave of his hand. "I'm not worried about it, though," he lied, and looked up at Varen with a smile. "At this very moment, my ship is scanning the planet for it."

Varen frowned slightly. "Your ship can see very little of our world, because of our sun," he returned.

"The Federation does not kill its scientists for failures, and so our technology is considerably more advanced than the Klingons," Kirk said calmly. He made a show of absently studying his injured palm, brushing off a few flakes of dried blood. "While the radiation from your sun does cause us some trouble, my shuttle is made from a distinctive metallic alloy that the Enterprise will find, in time," he bluffed. "Even if the Shadowguard disassemble it completely, the metal is still traceable." Kirk crossed his arms and stared straight at Varen with a confident grin. "In fact, I'd say it'll lead us right to their stronghold, or at the very least somewhere important."

Kirk watched as all trace of expression drained from Varen's face, and knew in his gut that he had gambled correctly. Kirk didn't know yet how the Klingons figured into this mess, but now he knew for certain that Varen was somehow involved with the Shadowguard. Varen recovered quickly, though, and it was possible that no one else even noticed the brief lapse. "Let us hope so," he said smoothly, and both the Keeper and the Savant made noises of agreement.

They all turned at the sound of heavy metal-clad boots ringing on the stones in the corridor, and one of Varen's guards appeared in the doorway. He bowed low, and Varen gestured for him to speak. "My Lord," the man said, "the wistor bells are tolling."

"Just what we need," the Savant grumbled unhappily.

"Have their wagon brought directly to the entrance," Varen ordered, and the guard touched wrist to forehead and chest before rushing off.

"Wistor?" Kirk asked.

"A very unpleasant storm," the Savant answered as they were led back the way they'd come.

Kirk glanced back and saw the short guard with the keys start to drag the body out of the room behind them. He looked away. It wasn't the most barbaric thing Kirk had ever seen, but it rated pretty high up there on the list. The Keeper and the Savant's guards rejoined them at the stairs, and Kirk did his best to keep his strained breathing in check as they hurried back outside. The brisk wind that had been blowing all morning had picked up, and the noon sky had been darkened nearly to twilight. Deep toned notes were peeling across the open courtyard from a bell high in a tower. They stood at the entrance, waiting for the wagon.

"My Lord Keeper," Varen said. "Does the council intend to discuss the matter of Trin and Peth?"

The Keeper frowned. "That is not slated until next month."

Varen nodded. "That would normally have been the next council session. However, since a full council is being convened early, it is my right to request a ruling on the matter."

The Keeper sighed wearily. "Yes, Varen. Since you insist, I will add it to the matters to be resolved."

Varen gave a small, polite bow. "Thank you, my Lord," he said. "I must secure the Keep."

The Keeper waved him away with an irritated flick of the wrist.

"You can't blame him, you know," the Savant said.

"I know, I know," the Keeper said. "Just bad timing."

A loud, angry snort drew Kirk's attention to the dragon that was still staked to the ground not far away. He felt sorry for it. Spock cast him a quick, sideways glance and Kirk realized he was asking permission for something. He could usually follow Spock's cues, but at the moment he was drawing a total blank. But he nodded anyway, because Spock would not ask if it wasn't important. Kirk managed to hide his surprise when Spock turned and headed straight for the dragon.

The Keeper instantly scowled, but Kirk held up a hand before he could say or do anything to stop him. "Spock knows what he's doing," he said confidently, hoping he wasn't bluffing.

The Keeper's frown did not fade, but he rested his hands on his hips and made no move to interfere.

The dragon's eyes were open, and went wide with fury as Spock approached. The Vulcan stopped several paces away from the enormous head, and held out one hand, palm down, as though trying to calm the dragon. Kirk realized Spock was going to try a meld, and instantly approved. They couldn't get any information from the dead Shadowguard man, but surely the dragon knew as much as he had. The dragon strained against its bonds as Spock's eyes narrowed in concentration, and Kirk knew the Vulcan was weaving some kind of mental touch even from a distance. The dragon huffed in confusion, but relaxed and Spock walked slowly closer. He knelt on the ground and gently rested one hand on the side of the dragon's head. It blinked with uncertainty, but then its eyes slid closed and a low, content rumble vibrated from its throat.

"Is he a demon?" the Savant whispered beside him, and Kirk glanced away just long enough to catch the man's expression.

There was no fear, no anger, just curiosity, and so Kirk looked back at Spock with an enigmatic little smile. "He's been called worse."

It didn't take long, and Spock was silent for the duration. Spock had gotten good at these mind melds, and didn't talk out loud any more, or show any expression from what transpired. When he was finished he withdrew his hand and stood, staring down at the dragon for a long moment. The tattooed head tilted slightly, looking up at him adoringly, and a long tongue lolled out in a way that reminded Kirk of the family dog back on his uncle's farm. But despite the dragon's obvious lack of malice, Kirk felt his muscles suddenly tighten as Spock turned and walked stiffly back to the group. Even from this distance Kirk could see the tension in his first officer's shoulders and back.

Spock was angry.

It took a lot to make Spock angry. Whatever it was, however, would have to keep because the coach was rumbling up to them. Its wheels were too far apart for the cobblestone path, and were tearing ruts into the grass on either side. The vithran were clearly nervous, shaking their scaly heads and bleating anxiously at the darkening sky. They piled into the carriage, which lurched into motion moments after the door was secured.

They traveled in silence for a while before Kirk became aware of the Keeper fidgeting slightly, constantly glancing between the two officers.

"Ah, Federation Captain," the Keeper said finally, several minutes later, and Kirk raised an eyebrow at him to continue. "I intended no disrespect by assigning you guards from my Court," he said somewhat awkwardly. The Keeper's eyes flicked toward Spock briefly before continuing. "It had seemed that you had insulted my Court by traveling with only one guard, but I see now that I was in error. I will see to it that the two given to you are assigned elsewhere."

At the time, it had seemed like the act of a gracious host but Kirk suddenly realized now that having been assigned guards from the Keeper himself had been intended as a return insult, of sorts. An insult to Spock, specifically. Kirk stiffened in his seat, but felt pressure against the side of his boot and glanced to his right. The Vulcan did not look at him, but Kirk got the distinct impression that Spock was fairly screaming 'shut up now!' Kirk never took insults to Spock lightly, but he let it slide this time in the interests of diplomacy.

Instead, he gave a nod to accept the apology. "I'd like to retain Jolan, if possible," he said, because he liked having some one around that he could ask about customs.

"Jolan?" the Keeper said with surprise.

"Yes," Kirk confirmed, then added, "Is that a problem?"

"Well, no," the Keeper said with a slight shrug. "But he's from one of the outer provinces. Not a bad sort, and he came highly recommended by the garrison commander there, but he's proven to be a bit… forward at times. Noril is much more professional."

Kirk smiled. "Where I come from, initiative is the mark of command potential."

"Well said, Federation Captain!" the Keeper boomed happily, and thumped his fist upon his knee while the Savant sighed slowly. Clearly, both Veygans were relieved that the misunderstanding was being forgiven. "Then he is yours for as long as you wish," the Keeper said.

"Thank you," Kirk said, not the least bit disappointed with not having to see Nameless – Noril – again. The idea of Spock being thought of as his personal body guard, and a demon body guard at that, was more than a little amusing. But he supposed, under the circumstances, it was best if they believed that. The Shadowguard were obviously well informed and well organized to have set up that attack within just a few hours, not to mention finding and hauling away the Copernicus.

He still refused to believe that Trin and Peth had anything to do with that. "What matter concerning Trin was Varen talking about?" Kirk asked.

The Keeper sighed. "Something has to be decided about the boy, and I had hoped to have that extra month. But I suppose Peth is as big as she's going to get, so Varen does have the right to put the matter of Trin's station to the council."

Spock blinked. "Peth is full grown?"

The Keeper stared at Spock with indignation, and Kirk decided to nip that in the bud right then and there. "You will regard my second in command with the same courtesy as you would myself," he said firmly.

The Keeper glanced between the two Starfleet officers. "I see," he said, and his eyes showed a measure of respect as he gave a small bow from his seat. "My apologies. To answer your question," the Keeper continued, giving Spock a polite nod, "She has not grown a single span in the last two months." They were clearly meant to assume that meant she was full grown. Kirk and Spock shared surprised glances, but the Keeper continued. "All of the Court guards adore Trin, and they way they treat him, you'd think he was officially a Rider. I don't even know why the boy has applied for the station, though – Varen despises him."

"He seemed respectful enough," Kirk said slowly, then held his breath on a sudden pang in his chest as the wagon went over a large bump in the road.

The Savant sighed. "Oh, he's polite in public – too polite. Embarrassingly polite, if you catch my meaning," he said. "The people love him, and Varen wouldn't risk upsetting them too much. Trin's like some sort of hero figure right now – what child hasn't dreamed of being a Rider? But it's a matter of station, and Trin's born to simple country folk. That's what's to be decided by the council. And if they vote in his favor – that boy will be the first dragon rider born outside the Lineage."

The Savant's answer only made more questions, but there was no more time. The wagon stopped with a bone-jarring lurch, and moments later the door was being swung open. The storm clouds were low and threatening and the wind had picked up even more, rushing dried leaves about them as they hurried to get inside. Bells identical to those at the Keep were ringing, tolling the same rhythm.

The Keeper turned to Kirk as soon as they had cleared the doors. "I'll have some food and drink sent up to your rooms while we wait for the council." Kirk nodded as the Keeper added, "In the meantime, I have matters I must attend to. You will be summoned when the council is ready." And with that, he turned way and headed down one of the many corridors branching off the room. The Savant glanced back at them with an apologetic little shrug, then hurried after him.

Kirk glanced at Spock, the two of them left alone as the clanking of the guard's feet faded away. "This is a very interesting culture," Kirk said.

Spock said nothing, and Kirk frowned. Spock was very good at concealing his emotions, but Kirk was very good at reading this particular Vulcan. The tension had not abated one bit, and so Kirk led the way back to their quarters without another word. The moment the door closed, Kirk spun around on Spock. "What did you find out?" he demanded.

Spock tensed even farther, taut as a bowstring. "The dragon was not present when the Copernicus was taken, but she had memories of a large cavern in the mountains. I do not believe it could be reached by foot. She had many memories of flying in mining equipment and hauling away excavated rock. Some of her more recent memories of the place include technology that I recognize as Klingon."

Kirk scowled. "So they are involved."

Spock hesitated. "I am not certain. Jisson had no memory of Klingons, except from a distance." Spock thought for a moment longer, studying images in his mind. "Captain, I believe the equipment was stolen from the Klingons, or abandoned by them when they left the planet."

Kirk considered the possibility that the Klingons really had completely left Veyga. It was a strange thought.

"A cavern in the mountains…"

"Very deep within," Spock added. "At the end of construction, Jisson walked a good distance back and forth down the tunnel, with insufficient placing of the light-globes."

"Deep enough to block the solar radiation?" Kirk asked.

Spock considered this, then raised an eyebrow. "Very possibly."

"They're studying it, Spock," Kirk said suddenly, with absolute conviction. "The Klingon equipment. Reverse engineering."

Spock nodded in agreement. "Once they became aware that there was radiation from the sun interfering with science, it would be logical to tunnel into a solid structure to block it."

"Well, I have to admire them for that, at least," Kirk said.

"It is only a matter of time until they gain superior technology and overthrow the Vanguard."

Kirk sighed. "There must be something we can do… this would never have happened if the Klingons hadn't broken the Prime Directive."

Spock did not answer, but they both knew that anything they did might only make the problem worse. Kirk's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, and he felt useless, powerless. It was only a matter of time until an epic war was waged. He could arm the Vanguard equally, if he had some clue what the Shadowguard were coming up with. But he didn't, so he couldn't. He could only hope that they failed in their attempts and threw away their stolen merchandise.

But even if they couldn't yet duplicate the technology, they did know how to use at least some of it – the missing Copernicus was proof enough of that. He thought of Trin and Peth and Jolan and Tara and Caya – and what a single Klingon disruptor could do if they got it working in this environment. "We can't let it happen, Spock," he said.

Spock bowed his head, but said nothing as he turned away. He could not condone breaking the Prime Directive if that was what his captain deemed necessary… but Spock had very privately come to believe that he could not stop him, either. Spock had never disobeyed a direct order before having met James T. Kirk. In the years since then, however, Spock had learned much about 'grey areas'. Sometimes, he missed the simple days of clear-cut black and white logic.

Kirk watched as Spock crossed the room and began picking up the books that had hit the floor before they'd left. Kirk mentally cringed as Spock carefully unfolded a page that had been creased in the fall, for both of them treated books with a certain reverence. Something was still bothering Spock. "Spill it, Spock," he said.

Spock looked up, and his fingers stilled on the book. "There is insufficient data to—"

"I'm not in the mood," Kirk barked, and Spock's expression went completely blank. Kirk regretted his tempter, but he didn't apologize. He knew Spock didn't like sharing what he considered off-the-wall theories without enough proof to back them up, but nine times out of ten Spock was right and Kirk didn't have the patience right now to humor the Vulcan.

Spock swallowed. "That dragon was severely mentally handicapped, little more than an animal." Kirk shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. Melding with that kind of mind had probably been somewhat… unsettling. If that was what was bothering Spock, then Kirk felt like a heel for calling him out on it. But Spock shook his head as if he had somehow heard Kirk's thoughts. "I have reason to believe that all of the dragons are similarly afflicted."

"You're sure?" Kirk asked in disbelief, and instantly wished he could retract the question. Of course he wasn't sure, or else he wouldn't have had to drag it out of him.

Spock hesitated, his fingers brushing absently over the edge of the book. "I would prefer to scan each individual with a tricorder, but judging from the behavior I have observed at the Keep and from the dragons station here at the Court, I am reasonably certain of my conclusion. Despite her handicap, the captured dragon was considered intelligent for her kind, if the Keeper's reaction to having acquired her is any indication."

Reasonably certain might as well translate as fact, Kirk knew. "What could possibly cause that?"

"Unknown, Captain," Spock said as he set the book on the desk and bent to retrieve the others. "I intend to search the data here for an explanation."

"But Peth…" Kirk started, then trailed off.

Spock looked up, and raised an eyebrow. "Peth is as sentient as you or I. She is a perfectly healthy example of her species and, I suspect, possibly the only one."

"Spock, there's no way an entire species can be retarded, with one exception," Kirk said.

"Not naturally, no," Spock agreed as he slid a closed book back into place on a shelf.

"Maybe Peth is genetically engineered, and the other dragons are the equivalent of chimpanzees," Kirk suggested as he sat on the couch and began removing his boots. They'd only been away for a few hours at most, but he felt like he'd been walking for a week.

Spock paused in the act of opening a book, considering the notion. "Possible," he said. "It is also possible that the dragons themselves were engineered from the vithra. It is also possible that they are simply related, and evolved naturally."

"You're saying the Veygans and the dragons could have evolved simultaneously?" Kirk asked. He set his boots off to the side and wriggled his toes in the oversized socks, enjoying the temporary feeling of freedom.

"It is not unheard of for a world to develop more than one intelligent species," Spock said. "The dinosaurs of Earth might well have evolved far ahead of humans had their environment not been drastically altered too fast for them to adapt, as an example. Without a tricorder scan of the vithra, the dragons, and Peth with which to make comparisons, I can do little more than conjecture," Spock said, and Kirk could detect more than a hint of frustration in the Vulcan's voice.

Kirk sighed and flopped back into the couch. The piece of furniture seemed to envelope him as he sank into the padding.

"One thing is certain, however," Spock said, his voice sounding like it was coming from very far away. "Trin and Peth have worked very diligently to conceal her intelligence."

Kirk pried his eyes open. "What?"

"There is sufficient evidence," Spock clarified, "to warrant the conclusion that, although people recognize Peth as above average, she is not considered sentient. This belief can only exist if she allows it to. Therefore, she has hidden her true capacity."

"Are you saying she acts like an animal?" Indignation was chasing away his weariness, and he struggled to sit up from the clinging embrace of the too-comfortable couch.

"I believe she attempts to do so, under most circumstances."

"Spock, there's no way that anyone who spends any time at all in her presence can fail to notice that she's not an animal!" Kirk objected.

"There are many animal species that endear themselves to humans and result in strong emotional attachments. Many treat them and talk to them as though they were people. Your Earth canines have been domesticated for centuries for labor and companionship. They are intelligent creatures, possessing a relatively large workable vocabulary and can be trained to perform a variety of skills and tasks. But if a canine did something uncannily human, the average person would think the animal simply extremely well trained, or perhaps just a fluke of personality. Certainly not sentience. These people are accustomed to thinking of dragons in those terms, so anything they might observe Peth doing would simply be explained away as a clever imitation."

"Spock… Are you saying…?"

"Yes, Captain," Spock said with certainty. "The people of Veyga think of Peth as nothing more than an exceptionally bright dog."

Kirk stared at Spock as he placed another book on the shelf. The Keeper seemed confident that the captured Shadowguard dragon could be trained to work for them, so there didn't seem to be a great deal of loyalty expected of the dragons to a particular rider. Therefore it must be possible for Peth to have a rider other than Trin, if his station was too low. But if people thought she was just an animal, an undesirable runt, then it was more likely that they would allow Trin to 'keep' her. Although how they'd gotten into that situation in the first place was still a mystery.

"They must be afraid of being separated," Kirk said.

Spock paused, and glanced at him briefly before settling into the desk chair and opening a book. "I do not pretend to understand the motives involved."

Kirk snorted, but didn't comment. Instead, he heaved himself to his feet because he was pretty sure the couch was leeching the life out of him. He paced for a few moments, trying to get some circulation flowing. His legs felt like they were on fire, and he held his hand up to look at it as he flexed the fingers. The little puncture wounds had sealed over, but the skin felt tight and the joints were stiff. He left Spock to his books while he went to the adjoining bathing room and washed off the dried blood.

Spock was still pouring over a thick volume when he went back to the main room, and the rattling of the window caught his attention. He crossed over to it and parted the thick curtains as the wind howled through the courtyard and shook the glass in the pane. The sky was nearly black now, the thick clouds hanging so low he felt as if he might be able to reach out and touch them. They looked odd, like smoke more than storm clouds. Kirk stared at the roiling mass, finding it oddly hypnotic.

"Curious," Spock said from right beside him, and Kirk jerked in surprise with a startled gasp. Spock glanced at him briefly, and Kirk looked away with a twinge of embarrassment at having not even heard him approach. Spock said nothing about it, however, and instead held the other panel of the curtain aside and tapped a long finger against the glass. "No lightning."

Kirk looked back at the storm clouds, and realized that Spock was right. Those were certainly thunderclouds he was looking at, but there was no lightning, and hence no thunder. He recalled watching thunderstorms on a variety of different colony worlds. Every time they moved, he had to leave his friends. But no matter what world his mother had been stationed on, thunderstorms were always the same. That made them familiar, like a friend. And so he stared at the eerily silent storm, trying to imagine growing up on a planet with no lightning. He heard a low rumble and thought Spock must have been wrong because there was some thunder after all. It must be very far away, though. It rumbled onward for a little while, until it faded away.

"Jim."

Kirk jerked his head around. Spock was staring at him, eyes slightly wider than normal with concern, and he realized Spock must have been talking to him. He opened his mouth to ask him if he knew that he sounded like thunder, but his brain misfired instead and told his knees to give out. He stumbled forward into Spock, who instantly caught him under the arms with inhuman speed. He heard a sound that was something between a gasp and a groan as his ribcage screamed in protest, and everything spun away into darkness.

Spock tried to adjust his sudden armful of captain as he found himself supporting Kirk's full weight. Alarmed, Spock quickly walked backwards toward the couch, half carrying, half dragging the unconscious human clutched against his chest. He laid him out on the cushions, and sat on the edge, scanning him with the tricorder the moment he had his hands free. The readings were extremely discouraging, and Spock had to ruthlessly crush a surge of anxiety.

The list of ailments, both minor and major, glowing softly on the tiny, cracked screen were all taking an enormous toll. The symptoms that he could track to the infection were behaving like some variety of meningitis, but his tricorder could tell him little else. The storm brewing outside the stone walls was either assisting the sun's radiation, or was the result of a radiation spike from the star. Most likely the latter. Kirk had slipped into sleep now, and Spock saw no reason to wake him. He sighed, and shut off the machine.

Kirk shivered beside him, switching from fever to chills. Spock went to the larger bedroom and pulled the cover off the bed, briefly considering moving Kirk instead. But the couch was larger than a standard bunk on the Enterprise, and if Spock was honest with himself he did not want to let Jim out of his sight. He slipped one of the couch's intricately patterned accent pillows under Kirk's head and tucked the oversized blanket snugly around him.

Satisfied that his captain was comfortable, Spock returned to the desk. He glanced over at him every so often, for it was only a matter of time until the chills changed back to fever. In the meantime, he occupied himself by delving into all the historical writings that he could find. The language was a remarkably simplistic one, and having his tricorder at his disposal would make translations even quicker.

His head lifted a few minutes later at a sound from near the door. He cautiously approached, casting a quick look at Kirk as he passed, but whoever was on the other side was taking no care to be stealthy. Spock opened the door, and found Caya standing there with a large tray balanced against her hip and one hand raised to knock. She swallowed, but just stared at him wordlessly. Spock gestured her into the room, and she obeyed hesitantly.

"He's worse, isn't he?" she asked, looking at Kirk, but did not wait for Spock to answer before rushing onward. "My Lady will be here soon, she sent me up ahead with the food that had been ordered."

"She will not have good news," Spock deduced from Caya's expression.

The girl shook her head sadly, and chewed her bottom lip nervously as she set the tray of food on the table. She looked up at him. "Are you really… a demon?"

Word certainly spread quickly around this place. Spock released a slow sigh. "If I denied it, would you believe me?" She thought about that for a moment, then shook her head. "Then why do you ask?"

Caya stared at him, but was spared having to answer because Spock turned away at another sound from the hallway. He recognized the muttering voice instantly, and opened the door.

Tara scowled at him without any show of surprise. "Why in the world are you on the top floor with a sick man?" she complained as she pushed past the Vulcan. She carried a large book tucked under one arm, and a satchel looped over the shoulder of the other. "I should have just let the servants tend to the meal, but I wanted to make sure they did it right," she huffed as Caya rushed forward to relieve her of the heavy bag. "Thank you, child," Tara said as Spock closed and latched the door again.

Tara looked at Kirk and sighed. "Did he fall asleep or pass out?"

Spock did not care for the terminology, but decided against commenting on it. "He lost consciousness thirteen point six minutes ago. He is sleeping now."

Tara stared at him. "Do you always talk like that?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Yes."

"He's a demon," Caya whispered to her mistress.

"Well, Demon," Tara said with a brief roll of her eyes, "I'm afraid you will have to summon your otherworldly minions from the sky for this one, because his illness is beyond us," Tara said and snorted.

Spock's brows drew together at the callous statement.

Tara sighed. "Have you no sense of humor?"

"No."

"What I mean," Tara explained with exaggerated care, "is that you will have to return to your ship. I'm certain that your medicines can take care of him, but we have no cure. It's a rare childhood disease, and fatal. I've never actually treated a case. I just remembered seeing the image in my studies."

Spock felt a cold lump settle in his stomach.

Tara opened the heavy book to a pre-marked page, and set it on the low table. Spock recognized the drawing on one side as the organism that the tricorder had identified. He scanned the information on the page, and tied in the universal translator. The technical terminology would be problematic, but it might be of use.

"Your ship isn't up there, is it?" Tara asked quietly. "Or at the very least, you can't get back to it right now."

Spock looked up, but did not reply.

Tara's face slowly turned grim. "I thought as much. I've taken the liberty of brewing a batch of trillanberry juice." She gestured at Caya, and the girl rummaged in the bag until she came up with a glass jar full of bright orange liquid. "My own concoction," Tara said as she took it from her and set it on the low table. "Tastes horrible, but it'll help."

Spock passed the tricorder over it, but Tara did not seem offended. To the contrary, she watched intently with open curiosity. It did prove to have promising attributes, so Spock gave her a small nod. Just for good measure, he also scanned the food while she plucked up one of the fluted wine glasses, filled it from the jar, and sat on the edge of the couch. It took a few moments, but she managed to coax Kirk awake long enough to drink it down, upon which he fell back onto the pillow with a small moan and sank back into sleep.

Tara sighed and touched a hand to his forehead, and then looked over at Spock. "That machine," she said, with a small jerk of her chin towards the tricorder. "Can it see anything?"

"Most things, if I understand your question correctly," Spock answered.

Tara stood slowly, as if debating something, and then walked over to where Caya was standing. Tara reached into the bag and pulled out a small jar filled with a white powder and set it on the table next to the book. "I heard you went to the Keep today," she said.

"Yes," Spock confirmed, for he could see no harm in admitting it.

Tara licked her lips nervously. "Did you see many dragons?"

Spock's hands tightened on the tricorder, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "Affirmative."

"Keep this, Demon," she said softly, staring into his eyes with a startling intensity of purpose. "Study it. And you will know our greatest secret, our greatest shame."

She suddenly walked toward the door, as if afraid of what she'd done. Caya snatched up the bag and hurried after her. "Oh," Tara said just as she pulled the door open. "They say the council will convene when Kilfor arrives, but I can tell you now that won't happen. See that he rests, but make sure he takes some of that every six hours or so. I will make more." And with that she was gone.

Spock latched the door closed, and stared at the innocent looking powder.