Home is the Sailor

by Pat Foley

In this post JTB story, Kirk comes to grips with where command ends and friendship begins. Holo series. Complete.

34. Chapter 34

Home is the Sailor

By

Pat Foley

Chapter 34

The next morning, McCoy woke to enough crashes and bangs that he fell off of the narrow couch in Spock's workroom, leaping to get to Sickbay, his sleeping mind having interpreted the noise to mean he was back on the Enterprise and the ship was in a red alert. Even that short fall in heavy gravity knocked the air from his lungs. He sat up on the floor, wheezing for breath, having missed both his previous night's and current morning's dose of triox. Plus none the better for having spent the entire night away from his climate controlled suite on the second floor to camp on Spock's uncomfortable workroom couch. Once he had his eyes and ears open, not just his surroundings but the cadence of Vulcan speech below - as various males in the courtyard below called back and forth to each other - let him know where he was.

He rubbed the sore hipbone that he'd fallen on and rising painfully, peered into Spock's room. It was empty, the bed made cadet neat, the lematya motif embroidered on its coverlet shimmering in gold and silver. Spock and Jim had apparently already gone down to breakfast.

When he had cleaned up and dressed, he found only Amanda downstairs. She appeared to be at the center of a whirlwind, ordering around a staff of Vulcans that seemed to have multiplied exponentially in the night. Workmen were carrying what looked like bundles of scaffolding through the gardens. Boxes and bundles and bushel baskets of supplies and foodstuffs were being stacked up on both sides of the corridor leading from the garden court door to the kitchen.

"What is going on?" McCoy asked. After his shattering night, all this activity, not to mention noise, left him a bit stunned.

"Just getting ready for the party tonight," Amanda said. She was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt; she was barefoot; her hair was braided in a single tail down her back, she had a clipboard in her hand. But for all her innocuous looks she was as in command of the forces around her as Jim was on the bridge in the middle of a battle. As some Vulcans came through carrying a large crate, McCoy flattened back against the wall, well aware that when you faced off an immovable force you tended to get blown away.

"Can I just get some coffee?" McCoy pled.

"Of course. But don't go in the kitchen today," she warned. "You'll get trampled."

McCoy sank down at the breakfast table. After a moment, the Vulcan girl that McCoy had seen before came out and brought him coffee and some breakfast selections, her snub nose wrinkled in distaste and her head turned away from the smell of the beverage. She also placed a pot of tea precisely before her human mistress.

"Where's Jim and Spock?" McCoy asked Amanda, after he'd gulped down half a cup of the burning liquid. At least Vulcans knew to serve coffee really hot.

"They went before breakfast to work out. Jim expressed the intention of pounding my son into the sand," Amanda glanced over at McCoy. "I do hope he was speaking figuratively."

"Oh, I don't know," McCoy said sourly. "Who can tell with those two?"

"I might have intervened," Amanda mused absently, tallying items on her checklist, "except that even as washed out as my son looks, I think he can still take Jim. Just barely maybe, but given Jim still isn't quite acclimated, maybe enough to get him down once."

"We can only hope," McCoy said. He poured himself a second cup, thinking of the events of the previous night. "Amanda. Where can I make a subspace call? Private. Security scrambled."

She blinked, regarding him. "You can make a subspace call from any communications terminal. But if you want something with the highest security encoding, you'd best use Sarek's office."

McCoy followed her in and waited while she brought up the communications program, tapping through various encryptions. "There," she stood back. "Up to Federation High Council level encryption."

McCoy sat down. "Thanks."

Amanda stood there, eyeing him a moment, hands clenched on her clipboard, obviously suspecting it had something to do with her son, but forcing herself not to ask. Then she took herself reluctantly away.

McCoy addressed the terminal, gave it the link codes for Starfleet HQ, and then ordered. "Connect me with Komack. Admiral. Starfleet Command."

In a gratifyingly short period of time he was facing the white-haired Chief Admiral. "Thanks for taking my call, sir," McCoy said.

Komack reached out to a control to set the pickup closer. McCoy almost wished he hadn't, and leaned back himself reflexively, even though they were parsecs apart. The expression on the admiral's face was neither pleasant nor welcoming. "I've got a Federation Starship in for a not entirely necessary refit," Komack growled. "Almost an entire crew on leave. Two Command officers down. Why wouldn't I take it? Do you know what this jaunt of Kirk's is costing Fleet?"

McCoy chewed his lip. "I need another week."

"Why?" Komack sat back. "You can't seriously believe it will make any difference, do you?"

"I wouldn't ask otherwise."

Komack shook his head. "Not Enterprise. She goes back into service the second her refit is done."

"What about Kirk?" McCoy asked.

"You think the Enterprise can return to duty without her Captain?" Komack asked with irony.

"Scotty could take her for that long," McCoy ventured. "Give her a week's shakedown and then-"

Komack broke into that. "I realize you are not in the military chain of command, but you must realize, Doctor, that Commander Scott is not the Enterprise's Captain."

McCoy narrowed his eyes. "I do think this particular command team is worth an extra week."

Komack spread out his hands. "I might agree. Except we both know that it's not going to make a damn bit of difference. Unless you think Kirk needs another week for it to sink into his head that he needs a new Exec. But I doubt he's that slow on the uptake. So what gives?"

"Maybe you know something I don't, Admiral," McCoy said testily.

"Mendez forwarded his logs to me on the subject," Komack growled. "I trust Jose. I've read all the official reports, including the ones from Commander Spock's Security debriefings."

"Well, you're one up on me. I'd like to get ahold of them."

"Trust me, Doctor, you wouldn't. That's one circumstance where rank does not grant a privilege."

"They couldn't be that bad. And I do want them. Besides, Spock was cleared," McCoy argued.

"He's broken."

"He didn't break," McCoy countered.

"Did I say he did? Never-the-less, he's still broken. No officer can come back to active duty after a drubbing like that." Komack shook his head in memory. "He'll never be fit for command again. It's impossible."

"I didn't know you were a doctor, Admiral."

Komack rubbed his forehead, swallowing hard, mind still back on what he'd read. "I've seen reports on other officers after their experience with the mind-sifter."

"Humans, perhaps."

Komack gave McCoy a wary look as if unwilling to be drawn into specifics. "Vulcans too."

"None with Command training, I'll wager," McCoy said, who had a fair idea of the Vulcan command officers in Fleet. "And Spock's different. He's exceptional."

"Is he?" Komack tilted his head. "How? You've certainly had nothing to report."

"It hasn't even been a full week," McCoy protested.

"Yet, you're asking for a third. I was against this damn fool scheme," Komack said, shaking his head, aggrieved. "Shore leave on Vulcan of all the godforsaken places. The Enterprise in refit. The only reason - the only reason - I went along with it because it was pretty clear the alternative was to lose two command officers, rather than one. I'd have either to discharge Kirk, or charge him with mutiny for disobeying orders. So I gave Kirk a couple of weeks to come to his senses. If he needs more than that, Doctor, then I miscalculated. What have you to say on that subject?"

"I'd say it sounds like you've already written Spock off," McCoy groused. "And that's hardly fair. You gave Enterprise this mission in the first place. You let Spock walk into that. You let Jim go after him."

"Enterprise was the best choice for it. As for his rescue, I couldn't let Commander Spock remain in Klingon hands if I could possibly retrieve him." Komack's eyes had narrowed, his face grave. "Humans at least die quickly under that sort of torture, Klingons not being especially subtle in their methods. Vulcans don't. Nor is our command conditioning guaranteed to hold under prolonged circumstances. There's always the possibility he could have outlasted its effectiveness and he might have broken. And don't think I haven't taken grief from Fleet Security on that. At least we retrieved that situation. Though I've been told to guard against its happening again."

McCoy sat back following that thought through to its conclusion. "Surely they can't keep Vulcans out of the Fleet."

"No, but they'd be happier if they were out of the Command track." Komack brushed off his gesture. "I know. We're a United Federation. But the fact is, our organization and methods are designed and tested mostly for and on humans. Aliens don't fit into that. Politics, not practicality, got Spock into the Command track during a period where Fleet felt pressured to include more non-humans in command. I'll not say it isn't inevitable as the Federation becomes more diverse. The political realities are unavoidable. But practically speaking, as an organization we're not entirely set up for it yet, methods wise. As Commander Spock's career can attest. And we were just damn lucky this time. "

"I don't know that I'd call what happened to Spock lucky."

"Call it what you like. But we pulled him out, and alive too. At least we shored up that security risk and we got a good bit of data out of him. I'll admit, it might have been the wrong call to let Kirk retrieve Spock, if it means he's lost his command objectivity. I don't want to lose two officers from this. But if Kirk chooses to disregard orders again, I'll have no choice."

"What about Spock?

Komack looked exasperated. "Oh, come, doctor. Commander Spock has given enough to Fleet. I don't think we need to ask more of him."

"I'm just asking for Starfleet to give him an extra week to come back."

"To come back to what? He can't possibly serve on a ship with the possibility of action. And as for elsewhere, let's face it, Doctor, he doesn't need to pass reinstatement to be a civilian teacher or researcher - if that is his intention. Does he even have any intentions yet? Can he?"

McCoy ignored that. "I always thought Fleet took care of its own."

"He was never ours to begin with. You ought to know that, caught up in that family now as you are. The political realities always were that Commander Spock was going to eventually resign and take up Vulcan duties when T'Pau ordered him home. She wanted her grandson to have an insider's view of Federation and Fleet defenses, or so we assume. It just went on past anyone's expectations."

"She hasn't ordered him home yet has she?" McCoy asked.

"Well, we took Sarek's request as a prelude to that," Komack said, shrugging. "Sarek's never wanted his son in Fleet. We believe we've suffered some backlash at Federation High Council levels these years because of it given he's not without influence there. He was never in our court before his son enlisted, and he sure hasn't been in it after. Another reason why it might be best we let this situation lie. He made it damn clear when Spock was recovered, he wanted his son home and no excuses. And regardless of who ordered it this time, it's only a matter of time before T'Pau does recall him. Spock's leaving now probably works out for the best for all concerned. Fleet, T'Pau, Sarek."

"You forgot to mention Spock in all those players. It ought to be primarily his choice."

Komack scowled. "Can he make a choice? Has he? If Commander Spock is functional and wants to return, we'll reinstate him. Somewhere. Provided T'Pau or Sarek doesn't step up and make the consequences for us too onerous. But I can't keep the Enterprise waiting around indefinitely, circling Vulcan like a yo-yo on a string, for an event that's not likely to happen. As for Kirk, he can follow orders and return to duty. Or he's not the commander for her either. The Enterprise is not going to stand on hold for him. I've got a dozen sharp officers eager for that command."

"None like Kirk, I'll wager."

"Careful, Doctor. Your bias is showing."

"Maybe that's a little true. But it's also true you'd have to go far to find a better command team. And a young one," McCoy pointed out, "who with a little care has a long productive career ahead of them."

"If that were true, I might be inclined to consider it. But I warn you, the current assessment at Flag rank is that Spock has to be written off, and Kirk might not be able to cut it without a Vulcan exec to steady down his impetuousness. In fact, there are some who are wondering who really was running the Enterprise day-to-day, given Kirk can't seem to face taking the con even briefly without Spock as his backup."

"You know that's nonsense. Anyway, isn't it an Exec's duty to manage the day-to-day running of the ship? A Captain only looks to her mission, and Kirk's always been exceptional at that. That's one reason why they were such a good Command team."

"Were might be the prevailing word. Kirk has to step up and move on. And you know that being the youngest Starship Captain in the Fleet comes with a target on your back and a lot of jealousy, at the lower and the higher ranks. Kirk used to understand that. I can, I will, shield him only so much and for so long. He's got to show some initiative in keeping that command. Or he will lose it."

"Admiral. Just one additional week."

"Based on what?" Komack challenged. When McCoy was silent, the Admiral shrugged. "I'll grant Spock extended medical leave. Not discharge him. He'll have every resource the Fleet can grant him toward his full recovery. That's only fair, even though it's not like that family wants Fleet help with his recuperation. They wanted him back. They were prevailed upon to accept you and Kirk as guests, but as for the rest of it, they've rejected every offer we've made to place him with Fleet recuperative facilities, medical services and the like. As for Kirk, he reports back on time, ready to take orders. Or he goes. And without an honorable discharge. Unless you're telling me he needs a medical leave. And then I expect a full report, with specifics." Komack shook his head at McCoy's grimace. "You don't know my pressures, Doctor. There's already murmuring in Fleet HQ that Kirk ought to take a demotion for his actions after Spock's capture. That he might not be up for Starship Command in the wake of these events."

"Fleet wanted Spock rescued."

"On our terms. Not Kirk's. And I won't have Spock's reinstatement dictated to me by you."

"What if I got T'Pau to make the request for a delay of the Enterprise?" McCoy asked. "It's not unreasonable given the time Spock was in Klingon hands."

"Damn it," Komack growled. "Don't tell me you have her on your side."

"Maybe I do," McCoy said. "I saved her son's life on the Babel mission. And unlike Starfleet Admirals, Vulcans do understand following through on an obligation."

"Threats go two ways, Doctor. You might find yourself pulled out of there and posted somewhere very unpleasant."

"I didn't mean it as a threat," McCoy said simply. "But if the political pressures for you as regards Kirk and the Enterprise become too difficult, she can provide heavy cover. And I don't think it's too much to ask."

"Doctor, what is going on with Commander Spock? Your reports have hardly been enlightening."

McCoy grimaced at that. He had expected to be put on the spot about this. "He's mobile," he allowed. "Physically functional as regard to basics, if understandably drawn."

"And mentally?"

McCoy sat back, reluctant to go into any detail that would compromise Komack's assessment at this stage. "He's generally oriented."

"That doesn't tell me much."

"It tells you he has the potential to serve."

"So does my three year old granddaughter. My question is, can he serve in the timeframe we're discussing? You want another week. Will it serve any purpose for me to hold Enterprise in station-keeping that long?"

"I can't guarantee that. He may be showing some signs of PTSD, but they could likely be exacerbated by his physical condition, which should rapidly improve." Out of pickup angle, McCoy crossed his fingers on that. "But I believe he wants to return."

"Has he said that?"

"He hasn't said he doesn't."

"That's not good enough."

"He's fighting hard to recover. And with any patient, that goes a long way. And don't forget. Spock may be not terribly important now in himself, compared to T'Pau or Sarek. But remember who he's going to be. In a hundred years, it won't be T'Pau you are dealing with, nor maybe even Sarek. It will be Spock. You might want to think twice before dealing less than fairly with him. It's only a few more days I'm asking for."

"That's if he survives this and is sane. And you know there's more involved than just the extra time. This is going over my head politically. I can't make that decision in isolation. Damn that family," Komack muttered darkly. "I won't say yes. I won't say no. You write up what you want. Full reports on Spock. And Kirk. Submit it to me, and to Medical. And I'll consider it and submit it to the Admiralty Board if I think its warranted. And where-ever else up the chain it needs to go. That's all I can promise." He leaned into the pickup. "But I warn you, Doctor, if Kirk doesn't show up on the Enterprise ready for duty when I order him to do so, I'll cashier him. He'll never command so much as an ore freighter in any Federation fleet. I already could have charged him with mutiny a half dozen times since this started. And I don't need cover for that. I have about had it with James T. Kirk. And as for Spock, you may think otherwise, Doctor, but I do have a Federation to consider this year, regardless of what some future Admiral might be facing from Spock a hundred years from now. I've been damn lenient so far in keeping the Enterprise and its crew waiting around for one officer whom everyone with Command and Medical flag rank has already considered it kindest to discharge."

"Maybe we should thank the Klingons, then, for providing the opportunity," McCoy suggested acerbically, raising an ironic brow.

"All right, Doctor. You've made your point," Komack warned. "You'd better take what I have offered before I reconsider."

"I appreciate it. And you'll get your reports, Admiral," McCoy promised, even though he dreaded the writing of them. "And thank you."

"Don't thank me," Komack warned him. "I haven't promised a thing."

"Aye, sir," McCoy said, but Komack had already cut the connection.

xxx

In a lower level of the Fortress lurked a very professional gym, with sophisticated environmental controls that could be set from null gravity to 5 Vulcan Gs. Kirk couldn't imagine anyone, full Vulcan or not, trying to exercise at that level of gravity, but he had no intention of resetting the G level from Vulcan normal anyway.

Spock routinely worked out in the Enterprise gym at Vulcan normal plus point five to keep his muscles from atrophying in the Earth normal gravity of the Enterprise. Kirk joined him for a little sparring at Vulcan normal once or twice a week, to give himself an extra edge. But there was a difference in working out at Vulcan gravity, and working out on Vulcan. The oxygen levels alone on this planet were pretty devastating even to a sedate human on triox, much less one engaged in strenuous activity.

"I don't know about you," Kirk said to Spock, as they moved to the mats, Kirk testing the grippy surface approvingly with his bare toes, "but I'm still pretty stiff and sore from yesterday. For today, let's do a little no contact sparring. Just marking the moves.

"That sounds reasonable, Captain," Spock said.

Given the heavy gravity, they stretched carefully. Warmed up gradually, progressing to a bit of light aerobics, and then stretched again. Kirk was quietly, seriously professional about what he was doing. Not only because his ability to complete a mission often rode on physical strength and how well he could handle himself in a fight, but also because he had to balance pushing himself with the risk of injury. Particularly working with Spock. Even when Kirk could lay a throw or a punch on him, Kirk couldn't put Vulcan force behind his moves. While Spock could heal a bruise or a strain so quickly it was almost inconsequential, he couldn't. Conversely, where he could go full out against his Vulcan friend, Spock had to restrain his strength or risk injuring his Captain – at least in the past. Kirk had always had to balance his desire for a hard workout against the risk of impacting his duty status for a mere moment's personal satisfaction in the gym. McCoy was pretty good with a hypospray and sonics. But even so, an injury was still an injury.

They weren't on duty now, but to Kirk that consideration was almost inconsequential. Both had lived for years with the knowledge that any shore leave could be interrupted by an emergency call. So when they moved from warming up to actual sparring, it was hard to say who was more careful.

Fortunately they had a long familiarity with each other's styles. And whatever conscious memory Spock might or might not have at this point, body memory always held a more primitive and truer recollection.

Finally warmed up, Kirk bounced up from a shoulder roll, faced off against his First Officer and looked expectantly at Spock. "Ready?"

Spock nodded, eyes narrowed, intent on Kirk's hands and body language.

"Slow and easy," Kirk warned him. With an officer fresh from a captivity situation, it was always possible even simulated combat could trigger a murderous rage. He trusted Spock to know him through anything – one benefit of working sleeve to sleeve with a telepath was that he felt they knew each other with their skins off - but he was still going to be careful.

He made the first move against Spock – Spock was a defensive player in hand to hand as well as ship to ship, and he invariably waited for Kirk to attack first. Spock read his attack easily – it was a classic one with which Kirk often began a sparring match. Spock rolled through a hole in Kirk's guard, reaching out with one hand and tapping Kirk's ankle for the foot he could have grabbed if they were doing more than marking moves. They both rolled, turned and were up on their feet. Kirk nodded to Spock, who came for him, moving to slip past him and grapple for a neck pinch move. Kirk sidestepped him, feinted left, and tapped Spock's wrist feigning the move that would have let him pull him over his shoulder by the unguarded hand and dump him. Spock obligingly did the shoulder roll that Kirk's move would have granted. Kirk followed him in the same motion as he were pulling Spock over with him. They both rolled in the duet-like ballet of battle. Kirk was sweating now and breathing harder. In the heavy gravity, he was just a little slower rising than usual, leaving himself open a second too long. Spock tapped his ankle, marking the move that would have let him pull Kirk's feet out from under him.

"Darn it," Kirk wheezed. "You get me with that every time." He flattened in the move that Spock's ankle grab would have given him, and couldn't rise fast enough to escape Spock's grapple. Completing the fall, Spock rolled over and put an arm over his throat, not touching, just feigning the action that he would have taken in a contact match. Kirk slapped the mat in acknowledgement of the fall. Spock backed off, and Kirk sat up off the mat, wiping sweat out of his eyes, and wheezing for air.

"Are you okay, Jim?" Spock asked. "I think you are not acclimated enough for this."

"Forgot to take my Triox this morning."

"I doubt you forgot," Spock said, raising a skeptical brow.

"You're right. I hate having to take those damn pills."

"We should stop then."

"No. Just give me a minute. Is there any water here?"

Spock went into an alcove and came back with a bottle of water and a towel.

"Try it quarter strength this time?" Kirk asked, after he'd drained half the contents and mopped his face.

"I don't know."

"You okay?" Kirk asked. "You seem to be keeping up."

Spock tilted his head from side to side, in an ambivalent gesture, his expression unreadable.

"Come on. One more fall. You're not even sweating."

"Vulcans don't."

"Breathing hard, then. We're supposed to be getting a workout. Not fair if I'm the only one getting one."

"If you wish."

Kirk held out a hand to be pulled up. Spock drew him to his feet. Kirk wickedly set his weight against him, trying to pull Spock off balance enough to get enough leverage to mark a throw. Surprised Spock twisted his wrist out of Kirk's grasp, breaking the handhold a bit more strongly than Kirk had expected. But then, he had taken the Vulcan unaware.

"Quarter," Kirk reminded him, flexing his wrist, backing up to get maneuvering room.

"Yours wasn't."

"Gotta do something to make an impression on you," Kirk said grinning with exuberance, glad for the verbal as well as physical banter, and went for Spock. Less in the stylized ballet of before, since they were well warmed up, this time hard and fast. For just a moment, Spock's brow furrowed, as if confused at the change. In that second's pause of indecision, he'd left himself open and unguarded. Kirk took full advantage of that, and got hands on him, used his weight for leverage. He grappled for a throw-down, though even underweight as Spock was, moving a Vulcan's mass in this gravity was a bit like uprooting a tree. Spock came back to himself, kicked Kirk's feet out from under him, rolled backwards, flipping Kirk over him, bringing them both down in a hard, awkward move with more power from him than Kirk expected this early in a practice match, even with his Captain upping the ante.

"Oomph," Kirk said as the air was knocked out of his lungs. Spock faced off against him, his expression unreadable, moving in to close more quickly than Kirk could react, with him disconcerted this time.

Kirk wasn't sure if Spock was just adjusting to the gravity and hadn't quite gotten the limits down, or if it was something else. But given his breathlessness, and knowing he couldn't get his guard up sufficiently, he decided to call a quick halt, before things went too far.

"Cavé," Kirk said quickly, holding up a hand, before Spock could either mark the fall or complete it as aggressively as he'd just taken them both down. "Cavé, Spock. Pax."

For an anxious moment Kirk wondered if Spock was even going to yield. There was no acknowledgment of Kirk's command, by word, expression, or body language. His eyes held an odd blankness. And Kirk felt the barest flicker of fear, knowing how lethal Spock could be when out of control. But then, Spock straightened, frowning in confusion, drawing away, not bothering to do either move. He sighed, just a little, and blinked.

"You didn't hurt me," Kirk said, reassured by his now familiar body language. He wiped his eyes with a hand, and blinked as well, his eyes burning from his own sweat, looking around for the towel. "But I wasn't sure you were tracking." He sat up, rubbing the hip that had landed hard on the mat, and looked over at his First Officer. "You had this...I don't know. This kind of funny look on your face. You still do, sort of."

"I am sure I do not," Spock said, half offended.

Kirk grinned. That tone had been pure Spock. "Well then, I mean a blank look. You worried me, for a moment. And that last move sure wasn't quarter strength."

"Forgive me, Captain."

"I probably moved a bit too fast past the limits I called for, and you just responded in kind," Kirk admitted, rising stiffly. "We're both rusty. We've probably done enough for today. I know I need to get some triox in me before I try again. I obviously can't fight you like this. We'll just cool down and stretch, okay? Okay?" He looked over at his friend. "Spock?"

Spock blinked and came back to focus on Kirk, "Yes, of course, Captain."

"You had that look on your face again," Kirk complained. "Try to keep up, Commander."

xxx

Finding his way from Sarek's office blocked by crates of party supplies, McCoy wandered down the other end of the corridor and came out into the gardens on the other side. Making his way back, he met Jim and Spock returning from their workout, pleasantly tired.

"You were gone when I woke up this morning," McCoy accused.

"Gotta get up early to beat us, Bones," Kirk grinned, and then coughed. His face was red and he was wheezing slightly.

"You missed your triox again?" McCoy said disapprovingly.

"I'll take it, I'll take it," Kirk said. He frowned as a flyer came through the forcescreens and landed. "I thought your mother was home, Spock. That looks like her vehicle."

"I think that is Sascek," Spock said. "He must be bringing-"

"What the hell," Kirk said, and pushed McCoy behind him as two of the largest, toothiest beasts he had seen on Vulcan - save for Lauresa, and that hadn't turned out so well - came through the gate and made for them. But the creatures ignored both humans, heading straight for Spock. To Kirk's horror, the larger one in the lead launched itself in the air and appeared to go straight for his First Officer's throat. Kirk dove for the Vulcan, not quite sure what he was going to do. The creature seemed to take this amiss, and with a snarl deep in its throat, veered midair for Kirk.

Kirk instinctively reached for a phaser that wasn't on his belt.

Spock threw himself in front of Kirk, snapping out a command in Vulcan. The creature hit Spock; Spock went down clumsily, his body caught halfway between turning to his Captain; the creature went down on top of him, rapidly followed by the second, hot on its pads.

And then they both licked Spock's face.

Kirk let out a sigh, giving McCoy a relieved glance.

Spock sat up, and Kirk was relieved to see there was no blood flowing. It didn't seem possible that creatures that large could hit anyone in heavy gravity that hard and not have blood flowing, friendly intentions aside. Spock said something again to the creatures frisking around him and both of them sat, nailing their bottoms to the ground in picture perfect obedience.

Behind the creatures, one of the hugest Vulcans Kirk had yet seen came through the gate.

"Are these yours?" Kirk snapped, testy over his scare.

"They are mine, Jim," Spock said, wiping his face. "They belong to my family, at any rate. Sascek was just returning them. For guard duty, I presume."

"They will help walk perimeter this evening," Sascek said in nearly unaccented English. "Is there some problem?"

"The Captain was alarmed at their approach, and made a hasty move toward me. They misinterpreted his actions as an attack," Spock said.

Sascek raised a brow. "My apologies, Captain. These sehlets are family pets, naturally. But they are trained to guard."

"Sehlats," McCoy said, with a big grin on his face as he surveyed the animals with delight. "Heard about them. But I'd say those fangs are closer to eight inches. And they sure don't look like teddy bears to me."

"They've grown," Spock said, looking fondly at one of the creatures now steadily inching its huge bulk into his lap, cheating the hold in place order.

"Teddy bears?" Sascek questioned in puzzlement.

"Don't ask," Kirk said.

"As you will. Captain," Sascek said, "I have been meaning to speak to you on another subject. I will need Federation I.D.s and retina scans for any of your crew that will be attending the party." At Kirk's raised brow, Sascek said, "It is a standard security precaution. We require a check on all offworlders coming to Vulcan, but particularly here."

"I don't believe that is necessary," Spock said.

"I regret I must follow orders," Sascek began.

"Yeah, sure, I can get them," Kirk said, only too familiar with Vulcans' attitude toward orders and opting for the easier route.

"Good," Sascek nodded. "Forgive me, I have duties to attend to. Spock, if you wish, I will remove these creatures."

"Yes, for now," Spock said.

Sascek whistled and the two sehlets frolicked off at his heels.

Kirk was frowning at Spock, who had yet to get up, now shifting on the ground with an abstracted look of near pain on his face. "Are you all right?"

"I'm not quite sure," Spock admitted. After a moment, he attempted to rise. He gave a sharp, shocked gasp, his eyes widening and he went back down without any pretense of normalcy.

"Whoa," McCoy said, who'd been looking after the departing sehlats. "What'd you do, Spock?" He was already pulling out his medscanner.

"I don't know."

McCoy raised his brows and whistled lightly. "You got yourself a stress fracture. Third bone in your foot - though I can't remember what you Vulcan's call it. Looks like you might have pulled a bunch of ligaments and tendons when you went down too. Still the remedy's the same, regardless of the name." He undid Spock's boot and manipulated Spock's foot. The Vulcan went white again and grunted.

"Bet that hurts," McCoy said, with his usual acerbic humor. "I can fuse it. With a bit of sonics you should be functional enough. Jim, can you go up and get my medical kit from my room? The black bag. Or are you too winded to get up there?"

"I'm fine," Kirk said, looking worriedly at Spock's white face. But then he got moving.

"I'll give you a dose of triox from it when you get back." McCoy turned back to Spock, and ran fingers and hands over Spock's foot again, twisting it this way and that. Spock closed his eyes and shuddered. "Yep. Thought you'd feel that. Definitely some strains there I need to address."

Kirk came back and dropped to the sand by Spock's feet, offering McCoy the bag. McCoy took out a dose of triox and gave it to Kirk. "Swallow this." He rummaged in his bag, took out a laser bone setter and pointed it at Spock. "This is gonna hurt," he warned. He proved himself right as Spock drew another sharp breath and his head dropped.

McCoy drew out his scanner again and nodded. "That's fixed it. A bit of sonics and some anti-inflammatories, and you won't even notice. Let's see if," he rummaged for the next instrument and reached for Spock.

Spock was breathing raggedly but this time he jerked back from McCoy's grasp. "No," Spock said.

"What do you mean, no?" McCoy groused. "I do the treating here, Commander. Despite your opinion of my beads and rattles-"

"Bones." Kirk said, catching McCoy's sleeve, his eyes widening. "Don't move."

McCoy looked at Kirk, then back at Spock's face. "Damn," he breathed. "Spock?"

Spock's eyes were blank, sheeted. But the look on his face was chilling, and his hands had clenched into fists. He was slowly gathering himself, intent on McCoy.

"What's happened?" Kirk breathed. "What'd you do?"

"Broke one of my own damn rules," McCoy muttered. "Damn fool - Spock," he snapped his fingers. "Spock!"

"Sascek," Amanda called from the distance. "I didn't say I wanted these creatures in the kitchen. Not when we're preparing for a party."

"I did call them, my lady," Sascek said, sounding embarrassed for a Vulcan, "but they did not attend."

"Because you love me, don't you, you walking rugs," Amanda said to the animals. "And I like you, a little. But not this much. And not today. You have to go, go, go out in the gardens."

Two sehlats frisked by, pausing to jump all over Spock, still conveniently at their level. They knocked him flat on his back on the ground and scoured his face again before sailing off.

"Spock?" Amanda said. "What are you doing? Are you all right?"

Spock looked up, from Amanda to Kirk to McCoy. He was blinking, confused, but he seemed somewhat more oriented. "I...don't know."

"The sehlats knocked him down," McCoy said. "And he was slightly injured. We could use some ice, if that's possible."

"Surely. But wouldn't you rather come in the house?"

"Spock," McCoy asked carefully. "Can you make it into the house?"

Spock didn't answer.

"I think just here for now," McCoy told her.

"Yes, of course." she said puzzled, but went away to fetch it.

"Spock are you with me?" McCoy asked intently, waiting till Amanda was out of earshot. "Do you know where you are? Who you're with?"

Spock drew a slow, careful breath and reaching up, rubbed his temples with his fingertips.

"Are you going to let me treat you?" McCoy asked. "Do you know who I am?"

"Dr. McCoy," Spock answered.

"Good," McCoy said, letting out a breath. "Can I treat you?" He slowly held out the sonic diffuser.

Spock flinched, the sight of the instrument apparently triggering some memory or reaction.

Amanda came back with a plastic bag of ice. "We have coolpacks, and - why would you want to use this?"

"Old fashioned method," McCoy said. "Spock's balking at technology for the moment. Would you rather have the ice, Spock? It will feel awfully cold to you. Or the sonics? They'll actually feel warm, and work faster." He spoke in careful tones. "I could use drugs, but I think you'd care for that even less."

Spock didn't answer.

"What's wrong?" Amanda asked in a low voice, puzzled by McCoy's elaborately broad manner of offering the two options.

"I broke my own rule," McCoy said. "Forgot he was not up to his usual controls, and I hurt him. Even taunted him a bit that I was going to hurt him - not that I meant any harm, but hardly my best bedside manner. And it didn't go over well. I might have set him back a bit."

"I can hear you," Spock muttered darkly, still eyeing the instrument in McCoy's hands.

"Good. Because you wonked out and weren't really with us for a minute there. You were somewhere else."

"I didn't"-

"Yes, you did," McCoy said. "But it's my fault. So what is it, Spock? Sonics, or ice? Touch that ice with a fingertip. It's going to feel really cold."

"I know how ice feels."

"Then answer me," McCoy said. And abruptly reversed that demand. "If you can."

Spock drew a shuddering breath. "Sonics."

"Then I'll take the ice," Kirk said equably, and scrubbed his face and the back of his neck with the outside of the bag, before sinking down next to Spock, sleeve to sleeve. He opened up the plastic bag and took out a chip to eat. He nudged Spock with a shoulder, and offered one to Spock who shook his head. "You okay?" Kirk asked.

Spock nodded, but his eyes hadn't wavered from the medical device McCoy was adjusting.

"You've seen one of these before," McCoy said, even as Spock eyed it as if it were a poisonous insect. "Look, do you want to do it? You know the settings and the technique."

Spock shook his head.

"Okay, here we go," McCoy said. Spock closed his eyes and folded in on himself, shuddering as it approached him. Kirk wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and McCoy nodded. "Yeah, let him lean against you, Jim. He's not feeling any too steady at the moment."

"He'll be done in a minute," Kirk said to Spock, "And if he hurts you, I'll - I don't know. Put him on report. Beat him up. Sic your sehlats on him. Something. He'll pay."

"Very funny, Jim," McCoy muttered, giving Spock a wary eye, before snapping his instrument off. "All done. You did great. How about trying to get up now?" He reached out to help as Jim helped Spock get to his feet, but the Vulcan flinched back, and looked at McCoy with a narrowed gaze that the physician could excuse but not really condone.

Kirk looked at McCoy with a 'what now?' expression.

McCoy drew a cautious breath. "You haven't had breakfast yet, right? Had your workout first thing? Then why don't you both go eat? I'm sure Spock will feel better with a few solid calories in him." He jerked his chin in the direction of the kitchen and watched as Spock and Kirk went slowly off.

"What happened?" Amanda asked.

"I fell back into old patterns," McCoy said. "I told you before that I've a bad habit of teasing Spock. He never accepts painkillers. Refuses to accept conventional medical treatment. It's not one-sided. He teases me back, goes on and on about my primitive 'beads and rattles'. How Vulcan techniques are better. It's just …what we do. So I taunted him a bit, like I generally do when he gets himself banged up. But he was in pain during it. Like a damn fool, I forgot he hasn't got the same pain controls he's always had. It obviously triggered a reaction, a memory from his captivity. Now I wonder how much worse damage I've done than if I had just left that minor injury alone."

"But you're a doctor. I'm sure he-"

"Amanda, you do realize they had doctors there? In the cell with him. Bringing him back to consciousness if he even was lucky enough to pass out from the pain. Measuring just how much he could take before - and helping to-" He shut his mouth, seeing her go white. "Damn it. I'm sorry. I seem to be putting my foot in my mouth with everyone today. But that I'm a doctor cuts no real weight with Spock."

Amanda let out a measured breath. "I'm not stupid, Doctor. I know what torture means," she said. She rubbed one hand to her forehead and scrubbed at her eyes. "It's just more graphic to have you explain it." She looked up at McCoy. "You didn't mean to hurt. And he'll understand. It was...just an accident."

"We don't have time for accidents," McCoy said, thinking of Komack, right now spinning wheels in Federation circles. "One step forward, two steps back," McCoy muttered looking after the Fleet officers. "But time keeps marching on."

To be continued...