Therazine Chapter 11

They began the hike back to the Fortress with the sky a beautiful, soft pink with tinges of azure, not yet the oppressive angry red that came with the late afternoon on Vulcan. The morning felt golden to Jim, the rest of the day felt full of promise. The oppressive desire for the drug seemed to have left him. He felt stronger and more at ease than he had felt in months. He was not so naive as to think he was cured, just grateful to the Vulcan masters and Spock that he seemed to have passed through the worst of it. Spock seemed himself, always quiet and undemonstrative, but every once in a while, he looked at Jim and opened their link to check on him. Once, Jim felt it a little and looked over at Spock with a feeling similar to what it felt like when he sensed someone watching him, only stronger. He smiled a little to himself to know that Spock was checking up on him, watching him, was there in his mind, only lightly. And then he smiled more broadly, amused by it. He walked closer to Spock and asked him, "Everything all right?"

Spock felt Jim's amusement and answered with a little of his own. "All systems are satisfactory, Captain." And then smiled a little back at Jim, very naturally, as he continued the hike.


Spock felt the lowered air pressure before he saw the wall of sand coming at them on the horizon line. The mass was dusky red, with dark gray swirls and orange clouds of dust roiling as it moved over the sand. Lightning flashes added blue, ghostly illumination as they strobed the clouds. They were not too far from the shallow cave system where Jim had taken a nap in the cooler air after the long hike. Jim looked at Spock with an expression that said, and echoed in Spock's mind, "Should we be concerned about this? Should we run?"

Spock grabbed Jim by the arm and pushed him ahead. "Run!"

It wasn't easy to run in the sand, but thankfully, some of the paths they had to run over were rockier and offered firmer footing. It wasn't enough. They stopped just long enough to cover their faces with the soft, bloodstained cloth torn in two. The wall of sand and the howl of it, the deep throbbing like a freighter's churning engines, reached them before they made it to the cave. The air pressure had lowered and seemed to drag the air out of Jim's lungs. They were soon surrounded by a mass of sand that felt to Jim like trying to swim in sandpaper. Spock grabbed Jim and carried him easily, as if he weighed nothing, as one would carry a small child, shielding him with his back as he ran at top speed, shouting, "Cover your face!" Jim buried his face in his arms as best he could while holding onto Spock, hoping the Vulcan didn't drop him as he was carried over the sand.

The cave floor that had been covered with soft, sand drifts was now littered with dirt, rocks, and debris. The air was choking, hot, and smelled like sulfur. Spock shoved Jim into the cave mouth, against a wall, and covered the human with his body as the sand and rock ground against them in a roaring fury. The sound was deafening, even in the thin air. Jim felt as if he was suffocating as the fast-moving storm blew past them. Slowly, the air became more breathable as the dirt began to settle out. Jim gagged, coughed, and spit out the dirt, over and over, his lungs burning like they had when he was sick with Vegan choriomeningitis. He was bruised, scratched, and sore but thankful to be alive. Spock was checking him over, brushing dirt and sand from his friend, when Jim noticed a few drops of green on the dirt floor.

"You're bleeding."

"As are you." The Vulcan opened his satchel and took out the remainder of the stained cloth, using some of their water to dab at Jim's face, covered with scratches. Jim grabbed the water and poured it over his face, washing out his mouth several times. The grit was even embedded in his teeth. As Spock turned, Jim saw how bad the Vulcan's injuries were. The storm had torn his shirt from his body in places, his back and arms scoured by the sand and rocks, a mass of raw skin and bruises, dirt and small rocks embedded in his flesh. Spock's back had taken the brunt of the storm's angry force, as he used his body to shield the human, to keep him from being torn from his grasp like a piece of tissue paper.

"Give me that rag and turn around." Jim was going to try and stop the bleeding and realized he could make it worse than it was. At least the dirt was acting like a pressure bandage. "We need to get you back to the Fortress as soon we can. Your back is a mess."

The rest of the journey back to the Fortress was an unpleasant blend of heat and gritty pain for Jim, but he knew the Vulcan was suffering the most. Spock never complained and was careful to mask his own pain from the link they shared. Spock's back, shoulders, and triceps had stopped bleeding. The fabric, blood, and dirt had congealed into a crusty mass.

They were greeted by the Fortress staff. McCoy had left, not comfortable leaving Jim alone with Spock for some kind of a fraternity hike, as he called it, but he had a practice to return to, and Jim seemed to be doing well with his medication and the treatments he had received by the masters at Gol. Sarek's private physician had been called to the Fortress clinic. Jim didn't like the fact that he had to wait outside the clinic door after his own session with the doctor, while the doctor and Spock met privately. At last, the physician left, returning in his aircar to the capital city. Jim saw Spock leaving the clinic and hurried over to him. The Vulcan was wearing a soft, loose shirt of a linen-like fabric. Beneath the shirt, Jim could see the sealant in patches, shining dimly through the open weave of the fabric.

"Are you all, right?"

"I am functional. The remainder of the healing will take place tonight, as I meditate."

"That's good news. It's been a long couple of days. If it's all right with you, I'm going to take a shower and go to bed."

Spock nodded and followed Jim, slowly and stiffly, up the broad stone stairs leading to the family's private apartments.