Chapter 10

The Bridge door swished open. Lieutenant Uhura looked around and quickly smothered a grin. She cooed at him sweetly, "Welcome aboard, Captain. Did you have a pleasant leave?"

Kirk winced, clutched his head dramatically, "No need to shout, Uhura. I'm not deaf. Mr. Chekov, order all shore leave parties back to the ship and prepare to warp out of orbit."

Chekov checked his console, "All ship's personnel aboard and accounted for, Keptin."

Boy, that must have been some leave, he jauntily speculated. The captain was greener than Mr. Spock at his best! "All instruments at normal operational capacity, sir."

"Then set a course for Hiemal, Mr. Sulu. Standard warp." Kirk glanced surreptitiously around, wondering why no one else seemed to notice the queasy way the deck plates were rising and falling.

"Aye, sir . Standard warp." Sulu's hands moved smoothly over this board. "Course locked in. Estimated time of arrival, approximately eight-point six-three-two hours, Captain."

"Fine. Then I think I'll go and slee…er, read – the hangover…the overhaul reports. Uhura, you have the con." Kirk flinched. Scotty had to do something about those hydraulics; they were far too noisy. He entered the turbo-lift and in a far from command voice whispered, "Take me to Sickbay…."

Laughter erupted as soon as the doors closed.

"He'll be lucky if there are any hangover pills left," Sulu quipped. "The way I heard it, Doctor McCoy arrived on board looking as if he'd been pickled in embalming fluid."

The little men with pick hammers had decided to vacate his skull at last. Kirk was drifting blissfully on a rosy cloud of sleep when the intercom beeped insistently. He remembered to stop swearing before he depressed the switch. The lovely features of his communications officer looked at him from the small tri-screen. Not trouble he hoped. "What is it, Uhura?"

"Captain, forward sensors have just picked up the readings of a second vessel."

"Configuration, Uhura?" Kirk redoubled his prayer.

"Too far away to say, Captain, but it seems to be traveling on a parallel course to the Enterprise. Heading for Hiemal, Captain."

"I'll be right up. Hold our present course."

As he re-entered the Bridge, Kirk's eyes went automatically to the viewscreen, but there was nothing to be seen except the hazy star pattern. Sulu turned to him as he sat down still a little gingerly.

"Sir, the latest computer reports suggest the vessel to be a Type Three supply freighter – of Vulcan design."

Thank the Great Bird of the galaxy for that. Kirk swiveled his chair to where the young Russian had taken over at Spock's library console. "Mr. Chekov?"

The young Russian adjusted one of his controls. "It should be appearing on the screen any second now, sir. Identification positive. The ship is the Vulcan supply wessel, Re-hesy."

"Sir," Uhura's calm voice broke in, "I am receiving a transmission from the

Re-hesy. Shall I put it on visual?"

"Patch it in, Lieutenant."

Instantly the view on the main screen shimmered and winked out, to be replaced by the face of a man – a Vulcan, probably in his early or middle hundreds, Kirk judged. Although, as with most Vulcans, it was hard to tell, since they remained physically unchanged from early adulthood, aging only slightly over the years. Accentuated by sleek, shining, blue-black hair, his features were typical of his race, with upswept eyebrows and the familiar pointed ears. In his coloring, stance and build, he was a tauter, finer drawn duplicate of Ambassador Sarek – Spock's father.

"Captain James T. Kirk, commanding the Starship Enterprise. It seems we have the same destination in mind, sir."

The older man bent a calm, slightly curious glance on him, "Indeed, although, no doubt, for a different purpose." His lips curved almost imperceptibly as he held up his hand in the ta'al. "Live long and prosper, Captain Kirk. I am Sirak, leader of the research team on Hiemal. We have been expecting you for some time. It is an honor to meet you at last."

"Thank you, sir. The pleasure is mine. Kirk hesitated as he saw Sirak's glance wander over his shoulder to take in the other members of the bridge crew. "Is there something wrong, Mr. Sirak?

Vulcan's foremost Synthesist looked back at him immediately. "Assuredly not, Captain Kirk. However, it appears I have been misinformed. I was under the impression that a kinsman of mine, a Commander Spock of Vulcan, was first officer of the Enterprise."

"That's correct, Sir. Mr. Spock is my first officer. He's on leave at the moment.." Kirk smiled again. "Perhaps if you would care to come aboard. I'm sure we could find much to discuss."

"Sirak inclined his head in acknowledgment, that most untypical half-smile just brushing his lips. "That wil be most pleasant, Captain. I shall be standing by."

The vision screen darkened and reformed, this time with a slightly fuzzy outline of the Re-hesy superimposed on a background of stars. Kirk pushed himself upright, hangover a thing of the past now that no danger threatened his ship.

"Bring us in closer, Mr. Sulu. As soon as we're in range, have Sirak beamed aboard and escorted to the senior officers' lounge. I'll be waiting there." That would give him time to shower and change his uniform, or Sirak was likely to think he always slept in it.

When he reappeared, Sirak's tall, powerful form was clothed in dead black pants and a tunic with a faint overlay of silver stitchery – an outfit both restrained and expensive which emphasized the arresting sensitive face of its owner. The two waiting officers stood immediately and Kirk stepped forward. "Welcome aboard, sir. May I introduce my senior physician, Doctor Leonard McCoy?"

"Pleased to meet you, Ambas…uh, Scientist," McCoy managed tactfully, trying not to stare. The resemblance was downright uncanny. Except for the straight, blue-black hair and fine-drawn features, he could be talking to Spock's father.

"Just, 'Sirak', Doctor McCoy. I come to serve." Again, he raised his hand in the ta'al salute.

"Very well…Sirak. Jim here tells me you don't know that our first officer, Mr. Spock, set out for Hiemal over four weeks ago. We're on our way to pick him up now."

Sirak's brows arched in Spock's familiar polite inquiry, "That is quite correct, Dr. McCoy. However, my lack of knowledge has a logical explanation. Three months ago, I left Hiemal for Vulcan. This is the first time I have returned since."

Kirk and McCoy exchanged a glance, concern written on both their faces.

"Then you wouldn't know if Spock actually arrived? Kirk asked.

"There appears to be some … anxiety…over this matter. Am I to assume that you fear for Spock's safety?"

Kirk glanced again at McCoy before he answered. "It's usual for members of the crew to check in regularly with the ship. Spock hasn't done so since he left. He did, however, mention that the storms on Hiemal have disrupted d communications before."

"That is correct, but never for such a prolonged period," Sirak admitted, dark eyes hooded in thought. "Is there a possibility of damage to his communication system. Perhaps some fault?"

"It still wouldn't explain why we haven't been able to contact your research team, sir."

Sirak tensed unmistakably. "They do not answer us – so it is true!" Sirak spoke almost to himself, his face totally expressionless, looking inwards at some private fear – or knowledge – of his own.

"You've also tried contacting your people without success?" Deep inside, Kirk could feel the unease blossom. Something was terribly wrong, and not only with Spock!

!I am of the opinion that the situation warrants further investigation, Captian – without delay. If you will excuse me, I must return immediately to the Re-hesy and…"

Uhura's voice erupted into the room. "Bridge to Captian Kirk."

Murmuring a swift apology, Kirk crossed to the wall intercom. "Kirk here. What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Captain, I've picked up a signal of some kind; nothing intelligible and very weak."

"Point of origin, Uhura?"

"That's just it, Captain – it's coming from Hiemal."

"Stick with it, Uhura." Kirk's palms started to sweat. He shurged trying not to let his sudden hope show too much. "What do you think, sir? Could that be possible?"

"Think, Captain Kirk…?" An eyebrow rose in faint disdain. "It would be pleasant, no doubt to believe that Spock is sending that message. However, would it not be more logical for him to transmit in a recognized language – Interlingua, Terran, Vulcan even? And if it is coming from the research base…it cannot be a member of my team."

"How can you be so sure?" McCoy demanded, loath to have this new expectation shot down in flames so easily.

Sirak regarded him levelly, "I am sure, Doctor, but there is no proof I can offer to convince you of that fact. You must believe what you choose."

McCoy turned away, his expression a mixture of anger and disgust. "Damn Vulcans, not a one will give a straight answer to a question."

"Take it easy, Bones." Kirk was well aware that Sirak's Vulcan hearing could not have failed to hear the remark, but there was no censure in the dignified, calm, features.

"If it is of…assistance – to you, Captain and Doctor, I do not believe that Spock is dead."

"And that's straight from the same bush telegraph, I suppose?" McCoy sarcastically returned.

"Bush telegraph? Sirak's eyebrow climbed. "Ah, yes… one of your quaint human expressions. The 'obscure and rapid transmission of information through a country or population' , is the correct meaning, I believe. Not entirely an accurate description but let it stand. Spock and I are well known to each other. He has been a… protégé – of mine since his early childhood, and therefore it is impossible for him to suffer any misfortune without my awareness."

"Are you equally well-informed about your team, sir?" Kirk asked grimly. It was all he could do not to grab the older man and shake the truth out of him.

"Concern has been expressed by the captain and crew of the Re-hesy, but I cannot…there are factors which prevent…" Sirak swung abruptly way from them, afraid perhaps of showing more than he wished of some inner turmoil.

Once in control, Sirak faced them again, "It is true, we felt them die, but…" His fingers reached for his temple, forehead creased in a frown. The hand fell once more to his side. "No matter. It is illogical to speculate without adequate data."

"Then it's time we went in search of some answers," Kirk's tone was harsh with anxiety. "I'll have someone escort you to the transporter and – "

Sirak interposed, "If it would not disrupt your routine unduly I would prefer to remain aboard the Enterprise, Captain. Speed is now of the essence, and I doubt the Re-hesy has the capability to match a starship."

Kirk nodded. Although Sirak's face remained stony, he could not forget the brief expression of haunting sadness. And there was also Spock. What was between this man and his friend? Far more than just a distant kinship, or he would eat his commission, seals and all. "Of course. It's an honor to have you aboard, sir. I'll have a stateroom prepared for you, or… perhaps you'd like to accompany us to the Bridge? It might make the waiting a little easier to bear."

Sirak's eyebrow rose, but he nodded politely, lips curving in the smile he had learned to use after decades of living and working among these emotional humans. "Astute of you, Captian Kirk. Now I understand why Spock finds his duties on StarFleet so endlessly fascinating. I had thought such insight a rare attribute among humans. There is still much to be learned of your species, I see."

Kirk didn't know whether to be pleased or insulted by the back-handed compliment but smiled anyway. It was obvious that Sirak was trying to make himself agreeable, and Vulcans weren't especially noted for their tact. "Perhaps each of us still has much to learn, sir."

But as he reached for the intercom, Kirk's thoughts were far removed from promoting interstellar goodwill and understanding. "Kirk to Bridge. Inform the Re-hesy that Sirak will be remaining aboard as our guest, Uhura. Then ahead Warp Factor six."

The only Vulcan he was interested in at that moment was host somewhere in Hiemal, perhaps alone and injured. Kirk pulled his mind sharply back from that, feeling his body go cold and sticky with sweat. He stood aside politely, gesturing Sirak to precded him, and with McCoy treading on his heels headed for the bridge.

No, Spock was alive! Sirak didn't have a concession on that piece of information. How he knew, what the mechanics of it were, Kirk couldn't fathom, but deep in his subconscious, some sixth sense or instinct told him that Spock at least still lived. Illogical, he thought, and managed a grim smile. But illogical or not, that tiny scrap of insight was perhaps the only thing that kept him sane as the hours ticked past with agonizing slowness.

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