Title: Home (Multichapter fic with 35 parts)

Beta: un-beta'd D: D: D:

Warnings, Themes and Tropes, etc.: bondage, torture, prostitution, explicit sex, drug use

Summary: The Vulcans need a new home planet, so the Enterprise and her crew set out to find one for them.

"They'd come all the way for this? Which mad astronomer had sent them out here? Whose twisted idea had it been?"

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or any of its characters.

– Home-Part 25 of 35 –

A man with a scarred face was pressed flush against Jim and was groping him-he wouldn't stop. Jim twisted his body and managing to hit him in the face with an elbow. Blood gushed from the man's nose onto Jim's shirt, staining it red.

"Keptin, wake up. We're back, we're home."

He opened his eyes. Chekov's smile was blindingly bright.

Then the words sank in as the dream faded. "The Enterprise?"

"Still docked at Luria II."

Jim grinned. That's what he'd wanted to hear.

Spock and Howard were already in the cockpit and Jim and Chekov joined them. They were slowly approaching the Enterprise, his ship.

"Hail them," he said, and found it impossible to keep the elation out of his voice.

Howard punched in the commands-Spock was of course still unable to use his hands. But Bones would get him fixed up in no time now they were back.

Scotty's face appeared on screen. "Ay dinnae want to believe it when they told me the ship you'd run off with had returned. Had to see it myself to believe it! Welcome back Cap'n!"

Jim grinned from ear to ear. "Missed much?"

The smile slipped off Scotty's face. "Admiral Barrows was rather unimpressed when he called and you weren't in to pick up the call."

"Just leave the admirals to me, I'll sort them out."

"It's not that simple, sir. The Excalibur is already on her way to Saketh."

As soon as he'd returned, Jim had had to lock himself in his quarters so he could work at his desk to draft a quick, but thorough, report to the admirals. There was no way he'd allow Barrows to take them off the mission. He'd been working on it non-stop for hours, when the text started to blurr in front of his eyes—and he was still only half-way through. The whole time he'd kept one eye on his in-box, watching it fill up fast. He flicked through the messages on his PADD—nothing looked like it required an urgent reply.

'Spock,' he wrote, 'I will be finished with my report in a few hours and then I'll submit it.'

If his first officer had changed his mind and did want to explain his behaviour to Jim, then he'd know to look for him sooner rather than later. He sent it off and decided he needed to take a break. Not to mention there was someone he owed a visit.

"Wow, that was quick, Jim ," Bones said.

Jim looked at him blankly.

"How are you?" Jim asked and sat down on Bones' sickbay desk.

"How am I?"

"Yes, you. I know what day it is."

His friend looked at him in surprise.

"Well, I won't be able to talk to my little girl today, but we already knew that." He was silent for a moment; then he walked around his office picking up charts.

"Jim, the message I sent you, it was an urgent one, so I'm glad you're here."

"You probably sent it while I was on my way over, I haven't read it. What's up?" Jim said, switching into Captain's mode immediately.

He got off Bones' desk and went to stand behind the doctor's chair instead so he could look over his shoulder at the charts.

"Rumor on this ship travels faster than light speed. It might only have been a few hours, but I already know about Spock and that prostitute. And about the talking to you gave him. Now I don't blame you, in fact it's nice to know Spock doesn't get special treatment, I know you've grown very attached to him, but he had a good reason."

Jim groaned. "Yeah, I thought there had to be some logic behind the madness, but he wouldn't talk to me. Did he tell you?"

Bones snorted. "Here's the data I took from him just before you guys left for the starbase and then ran off to chase pirates." He handed over a PADD. "The more models I ran it through, the more certain I was that something very wrong was happening to Spock's body. The results showed that Spock was dying! I was worried sick so I sent the data to some specialists in Vulcan physiology, whose reply was to forward me a dossier on this Vulcan condition called Pon Farr."

Jim's jaw was hanging open. Bones tone was reassuringly calm, and Spock was still alive, but he needed to hear it.

"Spock's not going to die, is he?"

"We're all going to die, Jim, and with you as our captain, probably sooner rather than later. Chasing pirates, taking drugs … I really want to strangle you, you know that? But don't worry, Spock's not going to die this time. I've already sent out my reports to Starfleet's experts and copied you in on them. They were convinced he wasn't going to survive-nice to be able to prove them wrong."

"So was it or wasn't it this Pon Farr condition?"

"I don't know. Apparently male Vulcans go into heat every seven years. They must return home to their partner and mate or die, that is the Pon Farr. But Spock's wife died on Vulcan."

Jim nodded his head. Spock had said every Vulcan should have a wife, and he'd wondered at that at the time. Now he was finally putting some of the puzzle pieces together.

Bones continued, "All the data suggests that he entered the Pon Farr. That's what the medical results say, but on the other hand the circumstantial evidence is against it. He's too young to enter the Pon Farr, far too young in fact, there's no reason why he might. And he survived, but he certainly didn't … ."

The doctor gripped the PADD in front of him tightly, his knuckles turning white.

"The poor guy certainly wasn't able to simply go back to Vulcan where his wife would have been waiting for him."

No, but he'd certainly found himself another woman.

"Don't look so crestfallen, Jim, I scanned Spock thoroughly when I healed his hands. He's definitely fine now. Whatever it was, it passed."

"If he's too young, is there some other explanation?"

Bones snorted. "As much as I can't and don't want to picture that stiff-as-a-board Vulcan having sex … I mean can you imagine it?"

Jim could do better than imagine sex with Spock of course, he could remember-he knew exactly what it was like to have such an unresponsive partner in bed. It annoyed him that Bones likened Spock to a board, but he had to admit the doctor wasn't far off the mark.

"But yeah," Bones continued, "Spock, like all male Vulcans, went through a phase during his teenage years in which he experienced Pon Farr like symptoms. If they don't get laid a lot they can get very agitated, which is probably some massive understatement, but they won't die. I guess its practice for the real thing. Apparently Vulcans marry at age seven, and that's the reason—they need to have a partner before puberty hits, which like in human males can start any time between the age of nine and fourteen."

"So you're saying it might've been some throw-back to his teenage years?"

So had he or hadn't he married that woman? Had be bound himself telepathically to a complete stranger? This was going to drive him nuts if he didn't get a definite answer.

"It's a possibility," Bones replied.

"Why didn't you tell me about this as soon as I got back on board?" Jim handed him back the data PADD.

"I was going let you know first thing, but then of course I found out Spock was fine, so it didn't seem urgent-and you'd locked yourself away to catch up on work. When I heard the rumors I wanted to tell you before you filed any reports with Starfleet about the green hobgoblin, though. Whether this was a full Pon Farr or just Pon Farr-like symptoms, Spock probably really did believe that he was dying."

Jim nodded numbly. "I can't believe I didn't stop to think about what was going on at the time. I was just so mad. I humiliated him in front of the others, and he might've been dying."

So much for not letting Ensign Howard go on any diplomatic missions due to his lack of tact when it came to alien races—he himself was the real culprit. He swallowed past a hard lump that had formed in his throat.

"Hey, hey, don't be hard on yourself," Bones said. "No starship captain would have reacted any differently. Jim, look me in the eye. There you go. Now listen. Of course you weren't going to be pleased finding him in bed with a prostitute, were you? You did nothing wrong. It's entirely Spock's fault for being such a tightlipped bastard. He had the choice to tell you what was going on with him and he chose not to, because he was just too embarrassed to talk about it. But guess what? Spock may have missed the memo, but being embarrassed is not a valid reason for withholding such information from your Captain. No, you were quite right to react the way you did."

Bones pulled a bottle of liquor out from the bottom drawer of his desk. "But maybe a report to Starfleet HQ isn't necessary, eh? Guy's already got a stain on his record what with his affair with Uhura."

"None for me," Jim quickly said before Bones could pour him a glass.

He let go of the back of Bones' chair and sat down on the edge of the desk; he had a lot to think about. The Pon Farr stuff did explain the confusing signals he'd gotten from Spock after they'd broken up. But he hadn't come to sickbay because of Spock-he'd come to be a good friend to Bones, whose problems were arguably greater than his. When he was alone in his quarters later, he could mull over everything he'd learnt about Vulcans and Spock.

"Don't let me stop you from having a drink, Bones, you probably need it."

"That I do," he said, and poured himself a generous measure. "The old dragon not only won't let me talk to Jo today, no, she's threatening to never let me talk to her again, because I dared complain about the situation."

"Bones, I'm so sorry! I don't know what to say."

His friend sank back into his chair and gulped down his drink. "You don't need to say anything. That you came to see me because you knew what day it was, not because of the message I sent you, that actually means a lot to me."

After the revelation Jim had had in sickbay he was able to finish the report after only one further hour's work; it helped that he left out a large chunk of what had happened towards the end of that mission. Then he tried to do as much research as he could on this Pon Farr thing. He read over the information Bones had received, but the various accounts included in the dossier contradicted each other! One document written by a Vulcan nurse on Earth a decade ago stated female Vulcans weren't under the influence of the cycle, another paper written by a visiting biology Professor, who was Vulcan, at the Tellar Institute of Science said that they were.

There were letters, news articles, doctor's notes and even some high quality articles which had been published in the most obscure scientific journals-probably because talking about this was to break some kind of Vulcan taboo.

Once he'd worked through all that information, he was more confused than before, so he ran a search in the database on anything about other species on Vulcan.

Jim opened the first file that matched his search-a correspondence letter in the journal 'Mammalian Circadian Rhythms, volume 6835'.

I disagree with the findings of Petros et al in last month's publication that the disruption of the circadian rhythm of Sehlat Vorekis results in their death. I also entreat that their licenses for work with animals be revoked.

He skimmed a few paragraphs relating to the ethical treatment of lab animals .

... is linked with the reproductive cycles to which 86.53% of mammals on Vulcan are subject. The researchers seem to have further failed to divine the full purpose of that cycle. It is not only to ensure that offspring are born during the wet period, which occurs every 6.7216 Standard years on the planet, but also to ensure no weak members of the species pass along their genes. The mass migration of Sehlat Vorekis to their mating grounds has the consequence of forcing males to fight for the right to copulate. Adult sehlats who are too weak to secure a mate die, thus cleansing the gene pool, strengthening the species, and decimating population levels to allow the next generation access to the resources they require to grow.

Petros et al, however, only allowed their captive sehlats access to mates, not to their ancestral mating grounds. The reason most of their sample population died was due to this, and not due to the artificially induced disruption of their circadian rhythm.

Jim closed the article on his screen with shaking fingers. The harshness of 40 Eridani's three stars really had created a people who abhorred weakness; it was ingrained in their biology. He'd never heard of all of Vulcan coming to a halt every seven years for some gruesome fights to the death to win the right to have sex, so he was pretty sure that Vulcan's weren't subjected to that. But Pon Farr did sound hauntingly like this mating cycle.

And he tried, the emphasis being on tried, to find out the answers to all the questions he still had from talking to Spock the next day. Before shift, even during shift (it was a slow one-they were still docked at Luria II until he received confirmation from the admiralty as to whether they would be heading back to Saketh or not) and finally he tried questioning his first officer once more when their shift was over and they were alone in the turbolift together.

"So … are Vulcans anything like salmon?" he asked Spock. "I mean, um, not that I think you're like a fish, but salmon also have an instinct to return to their breeding grounds at some point in their lives to … ."

He stopped speaking because Spock was giving him a sideways look that had daggers in it and it was clear he was going to refuse to answer any such questions. Fine, he got the message, he wasn't stupid, but there had to be someone else he could ask.

He took his dinner in his quarters and spent the evening making calls to Earth. Finally he was put through to the most senior Starfleet doctor in San Francisco assigned to working with the Vulcans. Short of finding an actual Vulcan healer, he was the most informed expert there was. He would be stationed on the new Vulcan colony when it was set up. Jim reasoned he had their trust, so he must know about Pon Farr.

"Doctor Sargoni," Jim said, "thank you for taking my call. I know it's very late in California."

Sargoni smiled. "That's quite all right. I just got a message saying you had some questions and are currently looking at the viability of a planet for Vulcan settlement-you can call me any time. I'd be glad to help in whatever way I can."

Jim related the basics of what had happened to the doctor, leaving out as much as possible. He felt a bit guilty at talking about a part of Spock's life that was apparently very private to Vulcans, but hell, Spock was a Starfleet officer under his command.

"Hmmm… even considering the possibility that he married the Vulcanoid woman, I would say that it is highly unlikely Commander Spock went through Pon Farr since he survived. But no doubt it may have been very difficult for the Commander to accurately assess what he was facing. He's too old for the burn of the teenage years of a Vulcan, but too young to experience Pon Farr. The symptoms would have been similar for both - they would have clouded his judgement and made it hard for him to do anything but act instinctively."

"Doctor, I already know that."

Sargoni furrowed his brow. "Then what is it you want to know?"

"Well," Jim said and folded his hands in front of him. "I do have a question that is related to all this. The dossier sent to Doctor McCoy states that they would normally return home to their spouses. And you implied the Commander should have died had it been Pon Farr, even if he had found himself a wife. Is that because even if he'd had a wife he wouldn't have been able to return home—to Vulcan? How does losing their planet affect them?"

The doctor was silent, his mouth set in a grim line.

"Very astute of you, Captain. You already understand that you are not to repeat any of what you have already learnt for the sake of the Vulcan people's privacy, but what I'm going to tell you now is genuinely classified information."

Sargoni wrung his hands. "I don't mind telling you. I think you need to know. You have a Vulcan on board and you're looking for a new planet for them."

"What information has Starfleet been keeping from me?" Jim's eyes narrowed, picturing Admiral Barrows sorting through files, deciding which information was too good to pass onto Jim Kirk.

"When I first started gathering information on Pon Farr from the survivors I was told that it was something they don't speak of even amongst themselves. I assumed that was an exaggeration, but they were telling the truth-I felt like I was questioning primary school kids on sex. As you experienced yourself, there are many contradictory accounts and at first I put this down to the Vulcans themselves not knowing anything about the condition. As it turned out they were more right than we thought: across the entire population there's this huge variety in how the Pon Farr manifests itself.

"So, for example, some women experience it, while others don't?" Jim asked.

"Precisely. Over the millennia the Vulcan mating cycle was disrupted as their way of life became increasingly divorced from nature by spending more and more time indoors, exposed to unnatural light. In some populations on Vulcan Pon Farr is weak, but in others the ancient drives are still as strong as ever."

"So where does that leave the Vulcan survivors?"

"It leaves them with sad statistics. While some are guaranteed to survive their time, others are guaranteed not to. For others their chance of survival will depend on their experience and mental schooling."

"I take it that was one of the aims of your research, to find out who would be likely to survive. So tell me about Commander Spock."

"I can't tell you that," Sargoni replied.

"You're a Starfleet doctor, aren't you?" Jim said sternly. "Spock signed away his right to medical privacy when he took up his commission. I have here an officer who behaved out of line and no credible reason why. All we know is that he had Pon Farr-like symptoms. Whatever you know, I can assure you, it's relevant."

The doctor seemed to consider this. Jim knew the results of his research were probably classified, in which case he didn't have the authority to request the data. On the other hand the guy had already shared classified information with him, so he might be in luck.

"It's not for certain, Captain, as we cannot tell from DNA analysis how a Vulcan will experience Pon Farr, but from questioning his grandfather we know that in Spock's family it does seem that it's rough. If he'd already been through at least one cycle I might give him more of a chance, but under the current conditions I do not think it possible that he'd survive."

Grandfather? Hmmm ... he must mean Ambassador Spock. In which case the information was absolutely accurate. A cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

"Even if he had a wife?"

"Even then. He'd not be able to satisfy the instinct to return home and that would kill him first."

"Is there nothing the Vulcans can do? No medicine they can take?" Jim's fists were tightly clenched in front of him.

"There's one discipline called the Kolinahr, in which Vulcans purge themselves of all emotions. Kolinahr was something only very few attempted, less than one in a million Vulcans, and of those still only a fraction of a percent ever mastered it fully. None of whom survived."

Jim looked away, his brain racing.

A shiver ran down his spine. "But Spock could learn it, couldn't he? Someone could teach him that discipline?"

"Again, I'm so very sorry. Many male Vulcans are now attempting to complete the discipline, but they'e in emotional turmoil. They just lost their world. None are really in any fit state to even start contemplating learning it in earnest. It'll take a long time before they're in such a place mentally and by then it might already be too late."

"So is there no way to help the Vulcans?"

"Well," and now Sargoni sounded less gloomy, "that's where my colleagues and I come in. We're collecting genetic material and sperm from all Vulcan males at risk of dying, which is unfortunately the majority-most of the women do not suffer this seven year cycle, though. We can use artificial insemination. Their race will survive."

"But many won't live very long and Spock ... ."

The silence between them was grave.

"Thank you for answering my questions," Jim said finally, his voice wavering ever so slightly.

Sargoni nodded. "I'm glad I was able to shed some light on the situation."