"McCoy to Chapel."

"Chapel here."

"Where the hell are you?"

"I'm at hematology, Doctor. Like you asked me. Remember?"

"Oh, right…well, what did they say, then?"

"They're saying they need another hour with the sample."

"Well Jesus, what the hell are they doing with it? Taking it to dinner?"

"The data is rather obscure, Leonard. This isn't exactly the kind of sample they test on a regular basis."

"Well they better include the equation of interthermodynamic particles and gravity within a four-dimensional reality, since they're taking so goddamn long. Alright. Fine. McCoy out."

He slapped the communicator back down on the counter and glared at it. The Vulcan beside him was laying completely still, his face slack. The sight of Spock's shoulder had strung up the doctor's rage once more, surfacing with a vengeance and pulling at his mind. If only he could get his hands wrapped around that damned alien's throat…

Exasperated of waiting and doing nothing helpful, McCoy plucked his magnifying PADD from the counter. He leaned over the unconscious Vulcan to meticulously inspect the markings inked into his skin. He edged his thumb over the startling blue threads, their erratic design over the left side of his torso making no pattern. McCoy had not had the mind to record their exact placings when he put Spock out, so he couldn't exactly say, but they seemed to have expanded. He traced the lines back up to the collarbone and wondered why it was here that they were all accruing. He leaned closer and switched the plate on his magnifying PADD to a micro-sight, his eyes squinting in his study.

Then he noticed something, something which he hadn't before seen. He blinked to refresh his eyes and leaned closer. The skin, there at his collarbone, seemed to be…inflamed. He brought his head up and his PADD down, and considered what he just observed. Then abruptly, he leaned back over and scanned the whole of the bruise-like flesh. He concluded with no other inclination of inflammation. Solely the collarbone, the same spot which these strange blue trails seemed to generate from.

Inflammation to the skin was caused by something. Always. There was never random inflammation, there was always a reason. Irritants in the air, allergies, friction. He replayed the scene in his head, Spock wrapped in wire, and thought of when it may have happened. It could have been the touch of the wires, but why such an isolated spot? Was the fabrication of these lines in tandem with the inflammation? He growled dismissively, the answer to such questions being far, far away. Until he got the results of that blood sample, there was hardly anything he could do besides twiddle his thumbs. Whatever. I'm a doctor, not a fucking god.

….

Time had passed slowly, yet far too quickly. The passage of time meant the closer Kirk's ship was to doom. He placed his chin in his hand and tapped his cheek. The last hour or so, in his pensiveness, he had continued to come to only one option. An option he regarded with distaste and detestation. Yet, it seemed to be, in fact, the only one option.

The swish of the turbo lift announced the arrival of Engineer Scott. He gave a shallow sigh as he looked at the back of Kirk's head and walked beside his chair. He put his hand on the armrest, his fingers twitching and tapping. Expecting a greeting but receiving only silence, Kirk looked up at him curiously. The Scotsman swallowed and adverted his eyes to the view screen, his eyes glossy.

"What can I do for you, Scotty?" Kirk finally asked. Scotty exhaled and looked to his feet.

"Captain…" he nervously met Kirk's gaze. "I was wrong, Jim. An' I'm sorry. I…I genuinely thought—"

"Scotty, Scotty," Kirk put his hand up and smiled at him. "You weren't wrong. We were, maybe…but the fault does not lay on your shoulders. In fact, you were the only one able to concoct a logical theory in the face of impossibility. That's admirable, my friend. I need you to keep doing that kind of thinking, seeing as we're still in this mess. Alright?" He patted his friend's arm, and a ghost of a smile crossed Scotty's face.

"Aye, Captain."

"Sickbay to Kirk." Scotty and Kirk exchanged glances as McCoy's filtered voice rang from the captain's chair.

"Kirk here."

"He's awake, Jim. And he's pissing me off."

A grin blossomed on Scotty's face, his guilt weighing a tad lighter. Kirk stifled a laugh. As long as his first officer was disturbing the peace of his chief medical officer, things weren't so morose. It seemed to be a rightness of the universe.

"Be right down, Doctor. Scott, the conn?"

"It'd be my pleasure, Captain." He smiled graciously at him. Kirk leapt out of his chair, ready to either scold or cherish the Vulcan. Hours had passed since he had caught Spock's limp body in that empty corridor, witnessing what he thought was his death.

Although he of course knew otherwise, the human in Kirk had believed Spock was indestructible…untouchable. He'd seen Spock with broken bones, attacked by indigenous creatures, sent to sickbay countless times…and the Vulcan seemed to take any assault on him with ease. He never showed any sort of vulnerability, any weakness; how could something like this have happened to him?

Kirk nodded to a passing crew member as he turned a corner. He realized there wasn't anyone he would trust his life with more than Spock, and it was he always getting Jim out of trouble. It wasn't supposed to be the other way around.

"Jesus Christ in the sky, what is wrong with your grubby green brain?!"

The yelling reverberated from the sickbay to Kirk's ears. He raised his eyebrows as he entered medical to a familiar sight; through the open doorway, it seemed as though Spock was attempting to stand from his sitting position on the bed, McCoy angrily trying to keep him down.

"You are insufferable, Spock. Insufferable. SIT DOWN!" he barked, pushing down on Spock's shoulders.

"Doctor, you are being highly unreasonable. It is very apparent—"

"ME?! I'M BEING UNREASONABLE?! Spock, for the love of Maya Angelou in heaven, you do realize this is your second time in sickbay in less than two days? Right? Can you compute that? Fucking hell."

"Your indifference using such colorful metaphors seems to have increased, Doctor, which —"

"Don't you dare tell me how to talk, you walking thesaurus!"

"Gentlemen." Kirk cleared his throat as he stood in the doorway. They both froze and watched him lean against the frame. "What's happening here?"

"Your shiny daisy for a first officer is giving me an aneurysm, is what is happening. He wants to work, Jim. Work. With that kind of logic, I wouldn't be surprised if he still believed in Santa Claus."

"Doctor, it is highly illogical for you to even generate that comparison considering the character of Santa Claus was an Earth concept and was confined to Earth alone. Being that I was born on Vulcan, I was not introduced to your vacuous tradition. Captain," Spock turned his head towards Kirk as McCoy rolled his eyes dramatically. "I understand my situation is undesirable, and I logically understand I cannot resume my duties as I am being confined here. However, there is no rational reason on why I cannot work from the sickbay."

Kirk crossed his arms and flicked his eyes to the huffy-faced doctor.

"Bones?"

"He's losing his damn mind, Jim," said McCoy with a wave of his hand. "He hasn't eaten in days, his body has consumed far too much physical stress, and frankly, he's just, he's losing his mind." His face twitched as he turned to inspect the monitor. Treating Spock was worse than being sick himself. He mumbled something about the Vulcan being 'trying' and 'absurd', while impatiently scanning readings he'd already read. Kirk sighed.

"Spock, I don't know what to tell you, McCoy is—"

"I will remain in the sickbay, Captain. He can observe me and my progression the entirety of the day if that will ease his overactive mind, but nonetheless, I can work."

"What kind of work are you so hellbent on doing?" asked Kirk, somewhat perplexed. It was true that Spock always wanted to work, but it was particularly plucky of him to request doing so after recent events.

"I believe it would be a valuable use of my time to study and hypothesize the cause of my condition. Though evidence appears to point otherwise, I have not conceded to the idea of a physical being having the capability of controlling life at such a distance. If I can solve even a portion of it, it may prove crucial to the outcome of this entire situation. Regarding not only myself, but the Enter—" he stopped short, his breath hitching in his chest. Pain struck his shoulder and gripped his arm, pulses leaking into his chest cavity. He gripped the bed and stared at the ground, finding his focus in an attempt to control it. Kirk immediately pushed off the doorframe and moved forward, but McCoy put his arm up to stop him.

"It's happened a few times. It'll pass," he explained quietly. Moments after, Spock released a quiet breath and loosened his hands.

"Is this going to keep happening?" demanded Kirk in concern.

"I have absolutely no idea, Jim," McCoy lifted a scanner to Spock. "Everything that has happened and will happen is a damn guessing game. I have no way of predicting anything." Disappointed with his readings, he dropped the scanner to his side. Kirk blinked and ran through the options in his mind.

"Did you get that sample back from hematology?"

"Yeah. They say the organic make-up of the atoms in his blood is 'extremely atypical and nothing of clue to a foreseeable nor desirable result.' So basically, I'm putting in my recommendation to absorb the entire hematology department and have them work as lab hands, since they're a bunch of fuckin' morons."

Kirk gave a disheartened chuckle. That blood seemed to be their last hope. He locked eyes with Spock, wondering what the hell was happening to his friend's body. He was still too grey, deep bags under his eyes, but the strength in his gaze had not faltered. He inhaled deeply at the words he knew Spock to be saying.

"I think we should let him work, Bones."

McCoy shook his head, cynic, and rubbed his forehead. "See, I'm not surprised by that." The fire in his voice had snuffed out.

"I get what your saying, Bones, I do. And you're the doctor here, I don't want to override your word. But you said it yourself, everything is a guessing game. We have nothing at all to go on. Maybe Spock can figure this out, we both know how infuriatingly smart he is…it's worth a shot, right?"

McCoy nodded, a sadness beginning to replace his impatience. He felt defeated, vanquished. Not solely in this argument, but in his work. The fulfillment he found in his practices was deflating, a man before him dying while he didn't even know why.

"Yeah, maybe. It's not like he's getting any better, so, why the hell not."

Kirk lingered on McCoy for a beat before turning back to Spock, his eyes serious. "I don't want you leaving sickbay, for anything. Not without McCoy." Spock nodded; he understood. Kirk softened his expression.

"Are you alright?"

"At the moment, Jim, yes."

"Alright." Kirk eyed him dubiously, but Spock raised his eyebrows as if to tell him he was being honest. Kirk nodded his belief. "Keep me posted."

Seeing for himself that the Vulcan was alert, he made way for the exit, but McCoy stepped in the doorway and blocked him.

"Now hold on, Jim. What's the damn plan here?"

Kirk widened his eyes and turned around to look at Spock, who was sharing the look McCoy gave off. The two of them seemed to have found some kind of common ground in the midst of their disagreements. Kirk scoffed.

"Well look at this. Since when am I the one being ganged up on?"

"We just want to know you've still got your sense, Jim."

"You can be impetuous, Captain," agreed Spock. "It is a simple and logical desire to seek out what your implied course of action is."

"Listen, the two of you have jobs to do just as I do. Spock, your job is to not die. McCoy, your job is to have Spock not die. My job is to make sure neither of you nor the ship die. So let's all just do our jobs, alright?" He took a step forward to move past the doctor, but McCoy shifted in front of him.

"That sounds mighty suspicious, Mister Captain."

"Bones—"

"Captain, the doctor and I are suspecting you to wish to travel to that moon and do exactly as I feared you would."

"Spock—"

"Dammit Jim, so that is what's happening!"

"Gentlemen! Shut your traps and listen to me, dammit! Stop giving me that look, Bones, I'm not an incompetent man. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I'm not doing that…exactly." He looked between the two of them. McCoy crossed his arms, waiting. Kirk motioned for him to sit down, but he stayed at his post. Kirk exhaled.

"Look, Bones, you may have been right. This seems to be something akin to a no-win scenario. But that doesn't mean we just stop trying, right? That's not very logical, is it, Spock? We have to keep trying. We have to do something. We can clearly see that the alien's threat has held true, as Spock is undeniably unwell. Therefore we can conclude that it's threats regarding the Enterprise are true. Now I'm not going to just let some crazy alien bastard take my first officer and my entire ship while I pace trenches into the floor, waiting for it happen. So the only option seems to be that we continue to that moon, yes, and yes, we will get those crystals it so desperately wants. Now, wait! I said don't give me that look, Bones! We get those crystals, we return to D684, and then when we meet that creature again…we try and destroy them."

"Captain?" Spock's voice was punctuated with edge in his superior officer's sanity, but Kirk lifted his hands in explanation.

"Ive been thinking, Spock. And I don't think we have any other option."

Spock stared at him, completely silent, his eyes widened in slight astonishment. He was sitting rigid on the bed. It was somewhat eerie, Spock being left with nothing to say.

"Well think of it this way," continued Kirk, "we know they can reach us, harm us, kill us. So that means you are gonna die, Spock. We're all gonna die. And if we're doomed anyway, why not try taking them down while we're at it?" Kirk turned fully to Spock and took a few steps closer to him.

"I know you, Spock. I know you wouldn't just let them take this ship without some kind of fight."

"Captain…you are insinuating these beings are capable of telepathically controlling a physical body, of killing me. Of an entire starship. That they have that power."

"What the hell else is this, Spock? One second you were standing upright, telling me that your ailments were you just didn't want to eat, and then the next second you look like a falling corpse who couldn't even hear me yelling your name."

Spock swallowed and let his eyes slip to the wall. "I have no intention of allowing the Enterprise to be effaced if there was any action I could take against it. I do not see an action I can personally take, but," he looked back up, "If you are adamant on this, Jim, I will trust you. However I must ask why we are on course for those crystals when you intend on attacking the alien species regardless."

McCoy uncrossed his arms, his sternness ebbing away. The muddled future he'd been swimming in was becoming clearer. Kirk shook his head lightly.

"Because I need you with me when we make our move against them," he said quietly, fervently. "Maybe they'll stop doing this to you when they realize we're getting those crystals. You'll be back on the bridge when we fire the first torpedoes."

Spock glanced at McCoy, wondering if this is something they could accept. McCoy replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"Captain," continued Spock, "you imply you will in fact retrieve the crystals, even if your intention is not to hand them over. If we were to stand no chance against them, which is what I predict, they will still come upon the crystals in our possession. Once they have them…I am doubting that my extended life would be an equitable trade for that. Logically, we should turn around now. Use the time it would take to return for the effects to discourse through me, so the effects do not reach the ship before we reach the planet."

"Logical? Perhaps, Spock. But I'm not gonna do that. I'm not changing my mind."

Spock exhaled and spoke silently once more with the doctor. It was as he had predicted to McCoy; Jim couldn't let him die, even in the face of logic. McCoy broke away from the doorframe and stepped up to Kirk.

"What if we go to this moon, show 'em that we're there, but we don't actually pick any crystals up?" he suggested. "So far as we know, they can only tell if we're on our way or not."

"An interesting thought, Doctor, however they did mention these crystals prove critical to the functioning of their lives," said Spock. "The alien exhibited highly advanced senses, it would be unwise to assume this species cannot sense these crystals in our possession. I surmise that was your conjecture, Captain?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought too. I think we have to get them for this to even have the possibility of working."

"So, we are gonna destroy the crystals, right?" poked McCoy dryly. "Because it'd be pretty dumb to show up to a battle over gold when one party's gotta tank and the other's got an extra sharp pencil."

"Are you calling my ship a pencil, Bones?"

"Jim."

"Of course we're gonna destroy the crystals, Doc. See, we're all on the same page, aren't we? And my ship isn't a pencil. We've got weapons capable of destroying civilizations, that's more than 'extra sharp'."

"You're sounding a little barbarous, Jim."

"If I'm choosing between saving 400 lives of innocent Starfleet officers and the lives of a species willing to kill everything in sight, I'm choosing the former."

It was a difficult concept for the doctor. He agreed, of course. His ship, his patients, first. Anything else second. But the thought of purposefully destroying an entire colony, though it was the only option, was a heavy weight for him to accept. He himself wanted to personally rip the head off the one who did this to his Vulcan patient, but, how many others were there? Were they all like that one? Did this species have children, or families? He pushed his lips together in a tight line.

"It's all I've got to go on, Bones." Kirk placed a hand on his shoulder. "Send me to hell, but I'm not sacrificing my people for people who did that." He pointed to Spock's shoulder, then dropped his hand to his side.

"Alright, Jim. Alright. This might work, but really, it might not. That's a fat chance you're taking a risk on."

Kirk shrugged. "It's all I've got, Bones."

A hologram almost killed a Vulcan. What could it's physical presence do? What could a group of them do? It was a fat chance for the Enterprise to win, to somehow defeat this completely unknown species and escape with their lives. It was the only option, however, and it was a punch Kirk would throw his whole weight into. He turned his look to Spock.

"What do you need for your work?"