They could not pretend their position in auxiliary control was safe in the slightest. Although Jim was nursing every last bit of sub light speed out of the system they were still tens of minutes from Earth, and the Orions were clearly audible outside the door, trying to get in. Spock knew how Jim's finger must be itching to send the ship to warp, but to go to warp in a solar system was to risk a wormhole, and that risk was too great to take, for themselves and any other ship in the vicinity.

Spock wanted desperately to be able to monitor the situation visually. He felt incredibly vulnerable and incredibly redundant.

'Jim,' he said in a low voice.

'Speed holding steady,' Jim replied instantly. 'The door's still looking solid. I'm working on remotely locking the engine room down in case it occurs to them to go directly to the impulse drive.

'Uncle Jim, I need the toilet,' Peter said suddenly, in a whining voice, and Spock sighed silently.

'There isn't one,' Jim said flatly. 'You'll have to hold it, Petey.'

'I ca-an't,' Peter half-wailed.

'You must,' Spock said, in a voice sharper than he had intended, and Peter instantly fell silent.

'Jim, is there anything on sensors yet?' Spock asked. 'There must be traffic.'

'It's a big solar system,' Jim murmured, then said louder, 'Trust me, Spock, I'm looking out for anything that might be able to help us. Trouble is, they might fire on us first.'

'The vast majority of vessels are largely unarmed, and would not risk trouble with an Orion trader,' Spock pointed out.

'Then I'm not sure we can hope for any help until we reach Earth.'

'It might be possible to send out some kind of signal,' Spock said patiently. 'Perhaps an old-style SOS. We could signal through our control of the engines, or even of the running lights.'

Spock subsided into silence again, considering how that might be accomplished. He closed his eyes and tried to tune out the noises from outside to just enough of a degree that he could think with clarity. He needed to be alert, but he needed to be able to think.

It should be possible to control the running lights from Auxiliary. How likely was it that other ships would notice, would recognise the old style Morse code? Would anyone be able to recognise a more complete message? Perhaps with the attention of the right vessel they could communicate far more than a simple 'save our souls.' At any rate, Spock did not require anyone to save his soul. It was his body that was his concern. His soul, should it come to that, he would pass to Jim. He had never spoken to Jim about the eternal Katra, but he had no doubt that Jim would be receptive.

He straightened his spine and removed those thoughts from his mind. They had no place here. It was, of course, possible that they would all die, but thinking of that would not lessen the chance. Focussing on what needed to be done was the best way of staying alive.

He opened his eyes again, and stiffened. What was that? There was an amorphous blur of light in his left eye. He sat for a moment, transfixed, wondering if it were some kind of hallucination. That seemed the most likely explanation. But when he lifted his hand and pressed his palm over his eye, the blur darkened.

Spock bit his lip into his mouth, catching his breath, catching the words he wanted to utter inside. He wanted to cry out Jim! but this was not the time for such distractions. Still, he was distracted. The patch of light floated like a badly focussed jellyfish in his vision. It was in all probability very small, but it was undeniably there.

He closed his eyes again and the patch subsided into darkness. He turned his attention back to the consideration of how to signal any passing ships. If he could get into the workings of the consoles in here he could probably reroute the signals to the running lights. It was even possible he might be able to manipulate the sensors in order to make them project a crude but readable distress signal. There was still the issue of the Orions outside the door, though. They had become suspiciously quiet, although Spock could still hear some kind of activity out there.

Spock blinked again. It seemed that the patch in his left eye was bigger. He could make out a difference between lighter and darker objects. The urge to call out in joy to Jim was great, but he swallowed it down again. Jim was concentrating hard on what he was doing, attempting to coax a little more speed out of the engines and trim the course to make their return to Earth as swift as possible. But this was overwhelming. He had never imagined he would think an unfocussed blur of light so incredible.

'Spock, I think they're close,' Jim said, and Spock snapped his attention to him.

'Specify,' he said crisply.

'The Orions. I think they're close to getting into this room.'

Jim's voice was laden with apprehension. Spock wished he could do something. His own life was not paramount in his thoughts, but he wanted to preserve Jim, and also his young nephew, who had been through so much.

'Peter, are you ready with the weapon?' he asked in low voice.

'Yes, Uncle Spock,' Peter replied, but his voice was trembling.

Spock blinked, and gasped audibly. He could see the colour of Peter's hair, distinct in that blurred spot of light in his left eye.

'Spock, are you all right?' Jim asked, immediately concerned.

'I – seem to be recovering a certain amount of vision in my left eye,' Spock said in a very calm and level voice.

Everything went very quiet for a moment. Then Jim said, 'Spock – are you sure?'

Spock turned his head towards Jim's voice and caught a blur of golden hair and the pink of his complexion.

'I am very sure, Jim.'

That blur of gold and pink got closer to him very quickly and abruptly he found himself with Jim's arms about his neck as his human partner favoured him with the kind of kiss he would usually reserve strictly for the bedroom.

'Jim, the child,' Spock murmured as soon as he recovered the ability to speak, but his lips buzzed and pulsed with the energy of Jim's kiss and he would have liked to push all logic aside and roll him to the floor.

'Aww, Uncle Spock, I don't mind,' Peter said, but to Spock's ears he sounded rather embarrassed.

'The Orions,' Spock said then. 'Jim, the Orions.'

Jim's hand squeezed firmly over his shoulder, and then the human stepped back and stood shoulder to shoulder with the Vulcan.

'We'll be ready for them,' he said stoutly. 'I've locked in our course and speed and I just need to keep an eye on it to be sure they don't hack in to the system.'

'How far out are we now?' Spock asked. He had to work hard to push away the pulsings of blood that Jim's kiss had aroused in all of the most sensitive areas of his body. Now was not the time for distraction.

'A half hour,' Jim said.

Spock nodded briskly. It was hard not to focus on that patch of blurred light in his left eye. He needed to use it, but not have his mind locked on the thought of sight.

Abruptly there was a shout and a sound of grinding metal, and Spock riveted his attention towards the door.

'No, it's just a gap,' Jim was shouting. 'Spock, get behind the console. Get down now! They've got all the advantage. Pete!'

Spock felt his arm gripped and tugged by the boy, but he resisted the pull. If he so wanted he could make Peter feel like no more than a fly on his arm.

'Order, Spock!' Jim barked out, and Spock suddenly let Peter pull him away and pull him down. He crouched behind the bulk of an angled rising hardness that must be the console, blinking furiously as if that would help to clear the vision in his eye. He heard weapons fire, and his jaw set hard, but he would know immediately if Jim were hurt through the bond, and so far Jim was exercised but not hurt. The weapons fired again and a flash startled him, along with a reverberation of energy through the console he was huddled behind, sending him crashing back against the wall. Something in his back cracked with pain, and he gasped momentarily before pushing the pain away.

'Uncle Spock, you all right?' Peter asked, crawling over to him.

'All right,' Spock nodded, relieved that Peter was evidently all right too. He crouched lower as the weapons sang out again, and heard the dull soft thud of bodies falling. Peter's hand was gripping so hard at his arm that if he allowed himself he would feel pain.

'That's some of them down,' Jim said breathlessly, a note of triumph in his voice. 'The others have retreated down the corridor. I got them on a wide beam, got close enough up to the gap that they couldn't get the angle to shoot me. I need to stay at the door, though, Spock. I can't monitor the console and guard the door.'

Frustration welled and was rammed down again. Even with that blur of light in his eye Spock was useless.

The ship rocked, and Spock was galvanised.

'Jim?' he asked, but he was certain that Jim knew no more than he. That had felt like external weapons fire.

'Pete, get up and look at the console,' Jim snapped. 'External sensors. No, not that one. That one. The screen there. The button on the left. See anything?'

'It's a Starfleet ship, Uncle Jim!' Peter cried, his voice shrill with surprise and excitement. 'It's a real big one too. I think I – If it turns I can see its name. USS Cairo.'

Spock absorbed that and looked deep into his database of current Starfleet vessels. The Cairo was by no means a 'real big' ship, but perhaps it would look that way to Peter if it were filling a sensor screen. Less than a third the size of the Enterprise, but just as well armed, it was primarily a solar system defence vessel. It must have picked up the weapons fire on board the Orion vessel and come to investigate. The lack of response on communications along with the obvious signs of Orion ownership would have warranted direct force.

At that moment a muffled voice resonated oddly from the room around them.

'Unknown vessel, stand down. You are out-gunned. Stand down and lower your shields.'

In the absence of communications the Cairo must have attached a communications drone to the hull of the Orion ship, and it was broadcasting its demands by resonance directly through the hull plating.

'Spock, I need you to take my position,' Jim said quickly. 'Petey, give him a hand. They just need to be able to see your weapon.'

Spock stood, ignoring the crick of pain in his back again. He followed Peter's guidance until Jim's hand touched him and closed warmly about his wrist. He reached out with his free hand to feel the buckled door panel and the sharp edges of the rent in it that the Orions had forced.

'Here, just get the muzzle through that gap,' Jim said. 'Keep yourself out of line of sight. I need you to cover us long enough that I can drop the shields.'

Spock nodded, holding his phaser where Jim had directed it and making sure that he himself was back from the gap. He certainly did not need to see through the hole, which was, in a way, an advantage. He extended his perception and sensed the unconscious forms of the Orions who had been stunned, and further away those who were still quite active. It would not provide him with accurate aim, but it was better than nothing.

'There,' Jim said after a moment. 'Shields down.'

He had barely completed his sentence and Spock could hear him returning to the door, when a warm hum enveloped them and Spock felt his body beginning to lose substance in the familiar grip of a tractor beam. He rematerialised in a place which was subtly but obviously different. Slightly warmer, a different scent in the air, a different note to the engines. This place was resoundingly Starfleet, and he allowed himself to relax minutely even as he heard barked orders to drop weapons and raise his hands. As he complied he heard Jim snapping out, 'I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise. My first officer, Commander Spock, my nephew Peter Kirk.'

Spock stood very still with his hands held in the air, trusting to the training of the Starfleet officers who were presumably holding weapons on them to distinguish between the Orions and their captives.

'All right, over there,' someone said.

He was aware of a slight non-verbal interchange, and then Jim's hand closed about his arm and Jim murmured, 'One step down, Spock, about two feet in front of you,' and he walked carefully off the transporter.

'Captain Kirk,' someone said, 'Sir, we – '

There were many people speaking at once. Spock was conscious of the need to access a communicator and speak to people on Earth and in Starfleet, but it seemed that nothing like that would happen until the human desire for fuss had been dealt with. He stood still with his hand on Jim's arm, letting Jim take care of the situation. Peter was being taken off to use the toilet after a shrill and urgent request. The sound of a medical scanner whirred near him.

'Even where there is no McCoy, there is still McCoy,' Spock commented, largely to himself.

'All right, all of you down to sick bay,' a woman said crisply.

'Doctor – ' Kirk began, and then fumbled for a name.

'Dr Ahmed,' the woman told him.

'Dr Ahmed, I can assure you we're quite all right,' Jim said smoothly.

Spock felt unguarded emotions bristle. He really was in the presence of a female McCoy.

'You are not quite all right, Captain,' the doctor replied crisply. 'You've all been exposed to type 7 radiation on that Orion hulk, and Commander Spock is sporting two broken ribs and if he unduly exerts himself before they're fixed he's risking a punctured lung – not to mention multiple bruises.'

'Spock, why didn't you – ?' Jim began.

'There was hardly time,' Spock assured him. 'When the Orions fired into the room I struck the wall. I didn't say anything because there was no need at that time.'

'Typical Vulcan. Where's that boy?' Ahmed asked distractedly. 'I need him in sick bay too.'

'He's in the head,' Jim said. 'There, he's coming now. Spock, take my arm, won't you? Commander Spock is blind,' he told Ahmed.

'Yes, I noticed, and I knew already,' Ahmed said rather wryly. 'You're not exactly low-key personnel, sir. But you still need to come to sick bay. Commander Spock, I'd rather you didn't walk.'

Spock sighed, and resigned himself to the ministrations of the doctor. It was likely that his ability to win arguments in medical matters would also be similar to his experience of McCoy, and it was easier to submit.