Chapter 7, In a Fever

It was late and the trio had played several matches. Finally, just before 2300, Kirk yawned and announced he's had enough.

"Long day tomorrow, gentlemen. But thank you for the competition."

"Thank you, Captain," Chekhov said, who had managed to keep up a steady current of cheerfulness and commentary at just the right times. He knew when to keep quiet during a match, and what to say after one was finished. He was happy to fetch drinks and snacks, and played a pretty good game, too.

Kirk made a mental note to thank him privately.

Chekhov's presence let him observe Spock less obviously than if they'd been alone. Spock was even a bit more relaxed with the Ensign's presence; it turned out Chekhov had been his student at the Academy, a "most satisfactory one" he mentioned during the evening. That was a little more emotional than normal, but in a good way. Perhaps he just needed opportunity to relax, post-virus.

The two men left together and Kirk moved to clear the table and wipe it down. It was too late to bother Rand for this kind of work and he didn't like the idea of going to sleep with food and drink still out. It was a holdover from his childhood on a farm, where open food invited in raccoons, possums and one time, a bear.

Something caught his eye. It was a padd Spock had brought with him that included vids of famous matches he explained he liked to study. Kirk picked it up. He could give it to Spock tomorrow, he knew, but he could also bring it to Spock's quarters. He was only down the hall.

He commed Spock. You left your padd; I'll drop it off.

Spock stared at the screen. Why won't he leave me be?

His door buzzed. "Enter," he said and Kirk stepped in. "Your padd, Mr. Spock." He held it out.

Spock reached for it. "Thank you Captain. It was kind but unnecessary. I would have retrieved it tomorrow."

"Jim. You can call me Jim when we're off-duty." Kirk swallowed. "Spock, may I sit down?"

Spock nodded. Like I have a choice? He motioned Kirk to an armchair on the other side of his desk and sat in his own chair.

"Spock, I don't know you well but I do know that something isn't right, and hasn't been right, since that virus outbreak."

Spock said nothing, just stared down at his desk.

"I understand Dr. McCoy wanted to check up on you. You know, it's his job to make sure that the personnel on this ship, particularly senior personnel, are healthy and fit. For duty."

Spock's head snapped up. "Has Dr. McCoy said I am not fit for duty?"

"No, he told me that you refused to see him. He can't come to that conclusion without examining you."

"What else did he tell you?"

"Only that he's concerned about your health…physical and mental. You've lost a valued member of your staff. You were infected by a serious virus that affected your behaviour. You were crying, Spock. I know that's highly unusual for a Vulcan."

Spock glowered inwardly. After running out of Sick Bay that day, Kirk had found him moping in one of the conference rooms. He tearfully told Kirk about how he'd never told his mother how much he loved her. Then he infected Kirk—he wasn't sure how but he was pretty sure that Kirk had slapped him; the virus seemed to spread through touch.

"Do you remember what happened in that room, Spock? We were talking about love, you and I. I told you you were better off without it, that I envied you. You told me humans need love and you understood why."

"Did you hit me?"

"Yes, I did. Twice. Don't your remember? You hit back and sent me flying across the room with hardly any effort!"

"I apologize…sir."

"Spock, you've already apologized and I've apologized for hitting you. Enough with the apologies. You haven't been the same since. Something is going on. McCoy wants to take you to Vulcan. Would you like that? He says the healers there can help you."

"No! I do not wish to go to Vulcan!" Spock practically shouted.

Jim regarded him for a moment. "We won't force you to do anything. But unless you tell us what's going on and how we can help you, you're not going to get better. McCoy doesn't think he can help you, although he hasn't even examined you. You both know something I don't. Either you tell me, or McCoy will. Either way, I am ordering you to go to Sick Bay tomorrow before you report for shift."

He rose to leave, and stopped. He turned around and sat on the edge of the desk. He leaned over toward Spock. "Spock, we want to help you. I want to help you. But you have to tell me what's going on or I'll have to go by the book."

Spock briefly lifted his eyes. "It is a matter of…biology."

"Biology," Kirk echoed. "As in Vulcan biology?"

"Yes. Have you never wondered how Vulcans choose their partners, without emotion to guide them?"

"Well…I always assumed it was done logically," Kirk answered, somewhat lamely.

"It is not logical. There is no logic. But we do have partners, mates. Mine was given to me at a very young age. We were seven.

"We were supposed to grow close but that never happened. She appeared…reticent. I know she was mocked for her association with me. They said she loved an…ape-man."

"So much for Infinite Diversity."

"Yes. It is one of many ways that Vulcans can be far from logical. The other is when our bodies tell us it is time to reproduce, to fully unite with our partners. If we do not, we will die."

"You will die?"

"On Earth, there is the example of salmon returning to spawn where they themselves were hatched. Empire penguins take a rigorous journey to return to their own birthing place. It is not dissimilar with Vulcans. Our logic is taken over by a driving need to reproduce every seven years, even if there have been children during the interim period. The drive ensures our kind will continue.

"But in order to live, we must…mate. Otherwise the madness will kill us."

Kirk took a few moments to take this in. "I see. Is this why McCoy suggested getting you to Vulcan? To reach a partner you don't want to see? But can she help you?"

"Yes."

"But you don't want to see her and you don't want her help."

"That is correct."

"Is there someone, or something, that can be done aside from this woman?"

"There are priestesses who attend to males in my condition…but I do not want one. The one I want is promised to another and I cannot force her. I will not force her."

"Someone on this ship?" Kirk was a little incredulous. He'd once wondered about Spock and Uhura but after several weeks of observation, it was obvious that Uhura was a freelancer where love was concerned. Spock appeared content with his relatively small circle of friends and larger circle of admiring acquaintances.

Spock didn't reply, just hung his head.

Kirk rubbed a hand over his forehead. "OK, look, go to McCoy and get a checkup. That's an order. Maybe what's bothering you is made worse by traces of the virus. I'd also like him to consult with healers on Vulcan. Because as of now, I don't have full confidence that you're fit for duty. So as of now, Mr. Spock, I am ordering you to take 10 days of leave and do whatever you can to restore your equilibrium, to get back to normal…within reasonable boundaries, of course."

"Of course."

"Good night Spock."

"Good night, Captain."

He wouldn't' call him Jim.

Spock was more than a little stunned. He wasn't exactly relieved of duty but close to it. People would talk. Talk tended to get back to Sarek, with whom he'd had an uneasy relationship.

Sarek had been, to put it mildly, furious when Spock chose Starfleet. He'd understood his reasons for rejecting the Vulcan Science Academy but Starfleet was beyond his understanding. As a diplomat, Sarek mistrusted most military, particularly those dominated by illogical Humans.

If ever there was a Vulcan who understood Humans, it was Sarek. He'd married one and whilst he sometimes commented that it had been the logical thing to do in his capacity as Ambassador to Earth, there was no doubt that Amanda captivated him. Some Humans, Sarek once told Spock, could read others very well, including other species. They could influence them to act illogically. He'd certainly seen his mother get his father to act in very un-Vulcan like ways. He smiled at her. He kissed her in the Human style. He sometimes spun her around in an impromptu Human-style dance.

Sarek's normally expressionless eyes lit up whenever Amanda came into his vision. She enchanted him.

And then Sarek would turn around and demand Spock be the perfect Vulcan.

Sarek believed Starfleet was dangerous because it was controlled by Humans. Choosing it over the Vulcan Defense Forces was dangerous and illogical. Spock recognized it also put Sarek in a very difficult situation. Plenty of conservative factions on Vulcan distrusted him. Now they could point to his illogical half-Human Starfleet officer son as further evidence of his traitorous actions.

The last thing Spock wanted was Sarek hearing that he was resisting going to T'Pring to fulfill his destiny.

Christine was feeling guilty. It had been three—no, four—days since she'd seen Spock. Now he was taking time off—something she knew he'd only do when ordered. She should check in on how he was. He clearly looked unwell the last time she'd seen him.

She called up his dining records on the computer and was stunned to see he hadn't eaten anything in three days.

She commed him. Are you all right? I haven't seen you and now I know you aren't eating.

A few minutes later, her padd pinged. I am not myself.

Will you meet me in the mess?

No. I prefer if you would bring me plomeek soup.

I'd rather meet in the mess.

I do not want people to see me like this.

Well, at least he was willing to let her seem him "like this."

Fine. I'm off in 45 minutes and I'll bring your soup. And you'd better eat it.

She clicked off the comm program before he could answer.

She felt rather silly, walking down the senior officers' corridor with a tray like she was Room Service. Oh great—there's Len and the Captain. Now she felt even sillier.

"Plomeek soup, Nurse?" Len started in.

Before he could interfere, Christine pressed the buzzer to Spock's quarters. It immediately opened.

Spock looked at her coldly. "What is this?"

"It's what you asked me to bring you—"

"It is not appropriate for a woman to serve a man who isn't hers!" Spock shouted and knocked the tray out of her hands. Purple soup splattered against the wall.

"Spock!" Kirk was horrified. "What—why-?"

"Captain I request two months' leave."

"What?"

"I said, I am requesting two months' leave."

"Two months? Spock, that's a lot of time—"

"I have more than enough time saved up."

"I—"

"Captain, all I require is a Yes. Or. A. No. What is it?"

"No—well let me see what I can do—"

"So your answer is no. I see now." He looked at Christine. "Please accept my apologies, Nurse. As you can see, I am not myself." He slumped against the wall.

Kirk made a move toward him but McCoy brushed him off. He grabbed Spock's arms. "Spock! Can you tell me what's wrong? Is it…you know…"

Spock struggled to stand up straight. "I do not wish to discuss it, Doctor. Please, just help me back into my quarters. I am safer there."

McCoy nodded to Christine, who moved back toward Spock. Together, they helped him inside and steered him toward his bed. He promptly fell asleep.

Christine looked at McCoy. "What now?"

McCoy shook his head. "Chris, I can't tell you everything. I wish I could. But I can tell you that because I am a man, I am not safe here. I'm not 100% sure you are, either, but I don't think Spock would hurt you. It's a Vulcan thing going on…a biological thing…"

And then it clicked.

"Biological. As in, reproductive biology?"

McCoy nodded.

"And he doesn't want to go back to his bonded mate or whatever she is," Christine said slowly.

"How do you know about this?"

"He told me…after the virus, we talked and he told me."

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to stay here with him. And when he wakes up, I'm going to tell him he must go to Vulcan. If for no other reason, then for…me."