Chapter 6: The Time Approaches

McCoy's fears were proving to be true.

Ever since that stupid virus hit the crew, everyone had been on edge, and not just those who were infected. Take Janice, that sweet young woman who served as the Captain's yeoman. She'd been jumpy ever since shooting at—and narrowly missing—Uhura, who had also refuge in the Captain's office from out-of-control male crew.

Uhura was still pissed off about the whole thing with Sulu, who was embarrassed about that ridiculous display of bravado on the bridge-although McCoy suspected he wasn't too embarrassed by vids of his well-defined chest making the rounds among female crew and more than few of the men.

The science staff, who were always a hard read, were just sad. They missed Joe terribly. McCoy was a little hard-pressed to understand this once the initial shock wore off: Joe hardly talked to anyone but then, that was kind of normal for maybe half the science crew.

Christine was still upset that they were taken off-course from Exo III; at least, that what he thought she was upset. Since the virus, she and Spock were barely speaking which was definitely not normal. He questioned both of them privately about the encounter he'd interrupted. Both swore nothing was forced, but the two acted like they'd just met when they were forced to interact.

And Spock…Spock, he was pretty sure, was headed toward his Time, that unspoken event Vulcan men, and some women, went through to ensure the species kept on going.

McCoy knew about the Time from a couple of summers he spent at the Vulcan Science Academy's medical school arm. Even there, it was discussed in detached clinical language. Most of the information stressed the danger to the party undergoing Ponn Farr. Not much was said about the other party but the fact that there were specialists who treated "post-Ponn Farr" injuries spoke volumes. So did the occasional obituaries that listed "natural causes," unusual for a species that preferred more exacting terms. Most of the deceased were female.

Spock had once confided to him that he'd hoped his mixed heritage would shield him from Ponn Farr, or at least from the worst of it. His father, Sarek, who hosted him during his stays on Vulcan, had also confided to him that he and Spock's mother, Amanda, hoped for the same. They had requested ("begged", Amanda told him) the geneticists who'd assisted them with her conception and pregnancy to factor out that particular gene. Turned out that it was too deeply embedded in the genetic algorithms that would give him Vulcan physiology.

Spock also wondered if he could reproduce. He probably could, McCoy had answered, since the genomes among Vulcans and Humans weren't all that different compared to other biped species. He'd started to offer to analyze Spock's sperm but the reaction—an instant, glowing green face—left him mumbling an apology instead.

One thing he did know—that damned virus jump-started Spock's Time. It lifted his composure and lip-locked him with his attractive nurse/scientist on whom he'd suspected Spock had harbored a crush. He didn't think Christine reciprocated but who knows? Part of her, he'd hoped, was coming to the conclusion that her fiancé was lost for good. But that didn't mean he wanted his sensitive Vulcan buddy—who he understood was still considered an adolescent in his society-to be her recovery boyfriend.

"Hold the lift, Mr. Spock," Kirk said as he left his station for a break.

The Captain was following him. He was sure of it. Why couldn't he leave him alone? This man barely knew him. "Hold," he sighed.

Kirk entered the lift. "Resume," he commanded and turned to fix his eyes on his First Officer. He was concerned, very concerned, about the Vulcan.

Something in that virus fucked him up big time. He'd gone from being a pleasant enough, if expressionless, character to a tight-lipped brooder. Kirk had mentioned this in passing to Lt. Rosen, the second-in-command on the science crew.

"Sir, everyone in Science is still recovering from Joe's death," Rosen told him. "My feeling is that Commander Spock feels responsible for Joe. Vulcans tend to be what we'd call paternalistic although it's actually a matrilineal society. What some people see as a superiority complex is more of a feeling that their role is protective."

Useful information, yes, but he wasn't satisfied this was the whole story.

"Mr. Spock, I understand you play chess," he said, letting his expression lighten a bit.

Spock visibly relaxed. "I do, sir."

"Care to match wits later this evening?"

No, he didn't. But he also didn't want to give his Captain more reason to stalk him. "Certainly Captain. When and where?"

"My quarters, let's say 1900?"

Shit, he thought. "Certainly, Captain."

After letting Spock out at the officers' quarters deck, Kirk headed toward Sickbay for a chat with McCoy.

"How are you feeling, Doctor?" he asked as he entered the med lab.

A couple of days earlier, the ship lost some of its gravity during a routine Engineering drill. Most of the crew enjoyed lighter, bouncier steps, but it was the women and some of the smaller men like McCoy who'd felt it most. Kirk himself had a few private laughs as he bounced up and down the corridors with Yeoman Rand.

McCoy, it seems, was enjoying this, too. Chapel tried to warn him that the gravity might come back online with little warning. Unfortunately, she was right. Gravity was restored just as McCoy was completing an aerial tumble—something he hadn't done since his undergraduate days for god's sake—when it returned to normal. He landed hard on his back.

"My old bones weren't meant for full gravity," he'd groaned to Chapel. Of course, she told the story to Uhura, who repeated it to Scotty and Kirk.

"The old bones are fine, it's just my pride that's hurt," he answered the Captain. He shook his head. "Should've listened to Chapel. What can I do for you, Captain?"

"I need to speak with you. In private."

McCoy nodded. "My office OK?" Kirk nodded back and the two headed out of the lab to the SickBay office suite.

"What's on your mind, Captain?" McCoy asked once they were inside and seated.

"Vulcans," Kirk replied. "The kind that suddenly turn into Heathcliff."

McCoy nodded.

"I need to know if my First Officer is fit for duty, Doctor," Kirk stated. "I can't risk the safety of this ship. I'm too new to know him well enough to understand if this is a temporary thing he'll shake off or if it's a new problem. What can you tell me?"

McCoy sighed.

"Doctor McCoy," Kirk said sternly, "Physician-patient privacy does not apply on a starship when it comes to fitness for duty."

"I know. It's just that…you would have to order him for a full exam."

"Can't you do that?"

"I tried, Captain. He refused."

"He refused?"

"His exact words were 'If you do not cease prying into my private life, Doctor, I shall break your neck.'"

"And this didn't concern you?"

"Of course it did."

"Why didn't tell me this?"

"I was going to, I swear I was. What I wanted to do first was a little surreptitious but necessary. I was analyzing his saliva when you came in.

"We were in the mess earlier. I was trying to get Spock to eat something. He agreed to have that soup he likes when I asked him to stop by for a post-virus exam. That's when he said he'd break my neck. Then he threw down his spoon and marched out of there. So I took his spoon and brought it to the lab here to analyze his saliva and see if anything showed up."

"Ingenious, Doctor. What did you learn?"

"Well, his hormonal levels—particularly the Vulcan equivalent of testosterone and cortisol—are high, very high."

"High as in, is he about to have a heart attack? Because dealing with him for much longer may give me one!"

"I think it would be beneficial if we could make a stop to Vulcan. We're getting closer to it…perhaps the Vulcan healers can help him. I don't think I can."

The Captain sat back and thought about this. "I'm seeing him tonight for a chess game, in my quarters. Am I safe to be alone with him?"

McCoy blinked. There was no way Spock should be alone with another male he didn't know very well. Anything could set him off these days. "If I may suggest, sir, invite Chekhov, too. Not only does he love chess—he and Spock sometimes play—but it won't hurt to have the head of security nearby when you're dealing with a hormonal Vulcan."

Kirk almost laughed. "Good idea, 'Bones.'"

"Meester Spock!"

Spock turned to see Chekhov walking toward him. "Mr. Chekhov."

"Meester Spock, we haven't played chess in ages. When can we have a match?"

"Interesting that you bring this up, Mr. Chekhov. The Captain invited me for a match tonight. Perhaps you would prefer to take my place?"

"Meester Spock! He's expecting you! But—invite me along and I'll play the weener."

Spock blinked, trying to gather his thoughts.

"I've never seen a Captain's quarters, you know," Chekhov smiled at him. "We'll tell heem I'm insatiably curious, no?"

"Um…very well, Ensign." He turned and continued toward the lab where he hoped to find some relief in focusing on samples from an asteroid they'd passed through earlier in the week.

Chekhov watched him leave. Um? He'd never heard the First Officer utter anything like that before.