Sarek had settled himself in the back of the shuttlecraft while his pilot and some of his staff manned the controls. They were three hours from their rendezvous with the Enterprise, and he had not been able to reach Amanda, though he tried for the entire trip. Slowing his breathing, focusing on her image, concentrating with all of his considerable strength, he reached out as far as he could go with that tenuous, incredible mind link that joined a bonded Vulcan couple. He had wondered once if the link might be diminished because she was human, but they soon determined it wasn't. If anything, the link was enhanced in some ways, simply because she was not embarrassed to love him.

She was the key holder, the one who could take the brief discomfort he felt when their fingers touched and make it something beautiful and pleasant. She was the keeper of the truth, or that which was their truth, anyway. She spoke the words of wisdom and comfort, the only one who could bring the small smile into play on his lips. Amanda, where are you? He asked the question silently, in his own mind, waiting for an answer, and when he didn't get it, allowing for a moment his stoic Vulcan persona to slip the slightest bit, knowing that he would be among Humans later, and that he mustn't allow them or his son, Spock, to see this side of him. His mind betrayed then what his heart felt, and that which was usually so well controlled, so carefully concealed in a special place inside him reserved for such things. His spirit screamed, if indeed a Vulcan spirit was capable of such things. Amanda! He was sure he would know if she had died, and he allowed himself to take comfort in that thought. At that moment, he didn't care one little bit whether comfort was logical or not. He knew himself to need it. Still, the idea that she was injured and in pain was almost more than he could bear, and not being able to contact her to be sure she was well was making it worse.

(0o0)

The chime sounded outside of the Captain's quarters, but he ignored it. He didn't want to see anyone at the moment. He looked up in surprise when the door whooshed open a moment later. The Commodore stood just inside the doorway at parade rest, studying him carefully. In a deathly quiet voice, masking a barely controlled fury, he said, "Commodore."

"Captain," she said, nodding curtly to him.

"I assume you are here for a purpose, so do what you came to do."

A small smile played around the Commodore's lips, and she stalked over to him. She stopped when she was standing right in front of him, and the two engaged in a staring contest. Neither of them dared blink or look away, and finally, she said, "You're angry, Captain. That's honest. I think once you hear what I have to say, you might be less angry."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

As it turned out, Kirk didn't get the chance to find out. Commodore Thavalan felt her knees buckle under her, and she felt herself pitching forward. As her world turned upside down, the darkness rose to meet her.

(0o0)

She became aware first of a lightening of the gray world she floated in. Then, a raspy voice and a hand slapping her cheek. For a moment, shapes and colors swirled around her head like she was stuck inside a kalaedascope. She finally opened her eyes to Doctor McCoy kneeling over her. She started to sit up and found herself unable to do so, though she couldn't see well enough to tell if there was something restraining her or if it was simply weakness on her part.

Running his portable medical tricorder over her, he discovered no major problems. Her blood pressure was a bit low, but that wasn't all that unusual. The Commodore, now recovering herself quickly, pushed his hands away and forced herself into a sitting position.

"Thank you, Mac. I am quite recovered now."

"All the same, I think I'll have you report to sickbay. I'd like to do some more tests."

"That's not necessary, Doctor."

"I'll decide what's necessary on this ship, madam. You can come on down to sickbay with me now, or I can confine you to your quarters, and stop by there later, when I am making my rounds." She was within her rights to argue, as she had as much authority on the ship as he did, according to Admiral Komack anyway. That authority was necessary for the mission at hand, but she understood the importance of using it when she needed it and therefore, not abusing it at other times. So, she decided not to press the issue until the day came when she really had to do so, and she knew that day would come, so she simply followed him down to sickbay without comment.

Commodore Thavalan was growing impatient at this second visit to sickbay. Several hours had passed while he performed his tests, and she still had her own work to do. "Thank you, Doctor. If you are finished with your tests for the moment, I will return to my quarters. I have much work to do before I meet with Mr. Spock this afternoon."

"I don't think so, Commodore. I think you need to stay here and rest, at least until the blood tests come back."

"I wish I could, but I can't."

"Medical orders, Commodore." So, the day came sooner than expected. Well then.

"Dr. McCoy, you cannot order me to stay here. I have as much authority on this ship during my mission as you do."

"We're a long way from Headquarters out here, ma'am. My authority on this ship is supported both by regulation and practice. Yours, even if it has been approved by Starfleet, doesn't supersede my authority as CMO. As Chief Medical Officer on this ship, I will tell you what you need and what you don't, when it comes to your health."

"Doctor, I trust you understand the position in which you are placing yourself. I don't think you want to quote regulations to me, I wrote most of the medical ones. The only way you could order me to stay here would be if going to my quarters put the rest of the ship at undue risk. It doesn't."

"I'm not so sure about that, Commodore. In the first place, we don't know what you have. It could be contagious."

"It isn't."

"In the second, it could disrupt the normal flow of ship operations."

"It won't."

"How do you know?" She hesitated for just a split second, and then decided against telling him how she knew, for the moment. She trusted him, she would not have chosen this ship first if she hadn't, but there was a proper time for these things, and this was not it. It should still be too early to show up in her blood, and if she told him, that would delay her mission considerably. Instead, she tried the argument from a different angle.

"Doctor, do you trust me?"

"You know the answer to that, but please don't ask me to put our friendship above my professional responsibilities. I just can't, Dee."

"I am not asking you to do that, Mac, and you know I wouldn't. You just expressed proper concern about whether my illness would endanger the rest of the ship. You know me well, both personally and professionally. Do you really think I would do anything to endanger this ship?"

"Not on purpose. You are asking me to trust you. I have to ask you—do you know what is wrong with you?"

"Not exactly. If it is anything more than fainting from an environment to which I am not accustomed, it can only be one of two or three afflictions that affect my people, and none of those pose a danger to anyone else. The classified part of my mission here is very important. I must talk to the Captain again, as well as to Commander Spock before the briefing. Plans have already been put into play—plans that could endanger the Enterprise if she isn't prepared for the mission. If you will allow me to go to my quarters, I promise I will rest between meeting with Kirk and Spock and the briefing. I don't know that this is anything serious. People faint for many reasons, and Andorians for more reasons than most. If it is, we will deal with it at a more appropriate time."

McCoy grumbled something about doctors making the worst patients, and then said, "All right, Commodore. I trust you. Please don't make me regret that decision. I will escort you to your quarters."

(0o0)

At 12:29 precisely, Spock waited quietly in the transporter room. Scott was operating the controls himself, at the Vulcan's request. There was unease to the Vulcan that worried Scott. A moment later, Dr. McCoy walked in. Spock nodded to him, and McCoy nodded back. He was uncharacteristically silent, watching Spock carefully. Apparently, he noticed something as well. The comm. link whistled at that moment, and Scott toggled the switch to answer it.

"Transporter room. Scott here." He heard the voice of Lieutenant Uhura on the other end of the connection. "USS Liberty reports ready for transfer, sir."

"Thank ye, Lieutenant."

"Energize, Mr. Scott." Scott's hands worked the levers on the transporter console, and a moment later, an austere and regal looking Vulcan was coalescing in a column of sparkling lights. As soon as the lights disappeared, Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan stepped off the transporter platform, as Spock stepped forward.

"Ambassador," Spock said, raising his hand in the salute.

"Spock."Sarek inclined his head toward his son, returning the salute. The word hung in the air for a moment, and then Sarek continued. "Is there somewhere we can speak privately, my son?" Nodding once, Spock turned and walked through the transporter room doors and into the hallway beyond, his father keeping stride with him. McCoy trailed along behind them, out the doors and into the hallway.

"I don't think so, Mr. Spock." Sarek turned and looked at the doctor as though he'd never seen him before.

"Explain, Doctor." McCoy looked at Spock, not really wanting to make an issue in front of his father, but unable to justify allowing him to go looking like he did. Spock inclined his head slightly, as if giving his permission to discuss this in front of his father. Sarek had asked for the explanation, but McCoy addressed Spock.

"Mr. Spock, I am concerned about you. You've not slept in over fourteen days, and you've not eaten at all today. Now, I know Vulcans do that sometimes and it may be perfectly normal, but judging by the looks of you, I think it is wearing on you."

"Ah, then you feel it, too," Sarek said, quietly, looking at his son. Spock nodded once, but said nothing. He turned to continue walking down the hall, his father next to him and the doctor trailing a bit behind. When they reached his quarters, Spock ushered them both inside and motioned them to seats. He sat behind his desk, long fingers steepled in front of him, lips pursed, eyes burning more than usual. Finally, he said, "Doctor McCoy, I must speak with my father privately, in regards to what we were just discussing. I cannot share it with you, nor can I explain it in a way you would understand it. Please excuse us, Doctor."

"No dice, Spock. I am not letting you out of my sight. If you can talk to your father in front of me, I will allow the discussion, but if not, I am sorry Spock, Sarek, I just won't take the chance." A flare of electricity seemed to pass between the Vulcans, and Spock raised his hand as if he would meld with his father, but halfway to Sarek's face, a large hand closed on his arm in a vice like grip.

"No, that would not be prudent. We do not know what is wrong. I think, in this case, we might safely speak in front of an outworlder. I understand this man stood with you at your koon-ut-kal-if-fee. He knows something of Vulcan mysticism. Also, he has a duty to be concerned about your health. You must not deny him his duty." Spock remained impassive for a moment, and then spoke.

"Doctor, what do you know about telepathic contact?"

"I understand the concept, but the only firsthand experience I've had has been on this ship."

"Describe the experience for me."

"You know the experience better than I do, Spock."

"Humor me."

"All right. It is difficult to describe. I feel a presence in my mind that is different from what is usually there, and then I experience thoughts that aren't mine, as though I am the one thinking them. I see images clearly—and I know they belong to someone else. That's how it is at the beginning. At the end, it is as though the thoughts and images and the presence really are mine, and yet, not. I don't know how else to describe it."

"Sufficient, Doctor. That's precisely the way I would describe it as well, normally. Now…it seems that the thoughts and images have a veil over them, or are coming through a room filled with smoke and noise."

"Spock, are you saying that your telepathic radar has gone haywire?" McCoy asked, alarmed.

"Crudely expressed, but essentially correct." McCoy noticed that the Vulcan was not quite meeting his eyes.

"Do you know what it means, Spock?"

"It usually signifies interference of some kind, either on my end or the other. This time, it is illogical that it would be caused by something I did, since by my father's comments, I am inclined to believe he is experiencing precisely the same event."

"I have only seen it this strong in the presence of alien life forms," Sarek said, thoughtfully.

"Could we be causing it somehow, Spock? Humans, I mean," McCoy asked.

"That is illogical. Interaction with your people has never caused it before."

"Some kind of different technology on the ship, then?"

"Unknown at present, Dr. McCoy."

"What do you need, Spock? I will help you if you tell me how." It was Sarek who spoke. "The logical first step would be to check the ship for the presence of alien life forms."

"Agreed," Spock said softly. He toggled a switch on his desk. Lieutenant Uhura's face came up on the screen. She started to smile, and then smoothed her face to neutral once again, since she knew it was not necessary to smile at Spock, nor would it be returned. "Miss Uhura, please ask two members of the security team to meet me in my quarters."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Spock out." He turned to McCoy, but was interrupted before he could speak by the intercom's whistle. Opening the channel again, he fully expected to see Lieutenant Uhura telling him something she had forgotten. Instead, Commodore Thavalan looked back at him.

"Commodore."

"Mr. Spock. Is Dr. McCoy there with you?"

"Yes."

"Please meet me in Briefing Room 2 as soon as possible. I have something of some import to discuss with you. Bring your father and the good doctor with you."

"I am on my way. Spock out." He closed the channel, and turned once again to Dr. McCoy, who acknowledged him by holding a hypospray to his upper arm. One eyebrow quirked upward, and the look was reciprocated by McCoy, who answered the unspoken question. "Stimulant shot. Your readings are bad, Spock, even for you. I really want you to rest, but this will do, for the time being."

"Doctor McCoy, sometimes I am forced to wonder whether you might have some latent powers of telepathy that your file overlooks." Whatever McCoy had expected Spock to say, it certainly wasn't that. A dozen or more retorts ran through the doctor's head, but they all seemed wrong somehow. Finally, he said, "You never know, Spock. You just never know."