Spock surveyed the Galileo from just inside the hatch, and nodded with satisfaction. The shuttlecraft was trim, her payload balanced to the gram.

Spock himself felt exhilarated. He had not eaten since his meal with Nyota the night before. It was good to fast before an ordeal. He did not intend to break into his meager ship's stores any time before arriving at Emagious III, approximately 43 hours from now. Once on the planet's surface, he hoped to make a rational assessment of the world's natural bounty. He would count it a personal triumph if he could return to the Enterprise with exactly the same allotment of rations as when he departed.

A muffled Hulloooo drew his attention to the outside of the craft. Spock ducked through the side hatch and paused on the top step. In addition to the inevitable technicians scurrying about the shuttlecraft bay in preparation for a launch, Spock saw a greeting party—a farewell party?—stepping through the cargo bay door. Captain Kirk, in the lead, waved cheerily. Close behind him were Dr. McCoy, his dear Nyota, Ensign Sulu, and Mr. Scott. And every one of them was carrying something.

Spock suppressed a sigh. Considering the timing, Spock could only assume these were gifts—in all likelihood, additional supplies that he would be expected to take with him. He wondered how offensive it would be if he simply sealed the hatch now, and waited inside the necessary ten minutes before his scheduled departure time. Resigned, he stepped down to the cargo bay floor to meet them.

Kirk spoke first, a grin all over his face. "It's about that time, eh?" He handed Spock the object in his hands.

Spock turned it over, examining it. It was a short length of hollow, plastic tubing. He looked at the Kirk, questioning with his eyes.

Kirk jerked a finger toward something behind Spock's back. "It goes with that."

Spock turned to find two technicians, obviously by pre-arrangement, lugging a man-sized canister of liquid oxygen toward the shuttle's aft door. They heaved it into the rear hold with a clang, then started maneuvering it inside. Frowning, Spock turned back toward the captain. Kirk raised his hands before he could speak.

"Now, I know you prefer to travel light. But I've checked your consumables. If Emagious III proves to have a harmful atmosphere, you don't have nearly enough oxygen to last the entire time in your enviro suit."

If Spock were human, he might have had to count to three hippopotamuses, as his mother used to say. Instead, he spoke in his calmest voice. "Were Emagious III indeed to prove inimical to humanoid life, I would simply abandon the mission before my supplies ran out."

Kirk wagged a finger at him. "What if the shuttlecraft was damaged, and you couldn't fly away? What would you do then?"

Perhaps it was indeed time to count to three hippopotamuses. "Captain, the odds against the shuttlecraft being damaged and Emagious III being totally unable to support humanoid life are—"

"Don't quote odds," McCoy interrupted. "I've seen what you're carrying in that shuttlecraft, and it flies in the face of every reasonable safety precaution that Starfleet puts out." The composed faces of everyone else in the party tended to support the conclusion that they agreed with the doctor.

Spock was forced to state the obvious. "Starfleet guidelines are designed around human parameters, Doctor."

"Don't give me that 'Vulcans are immune' speech, Spock, I beg you. I've had a look at your medical kit, and it doesn't begin to scratch the surface."

He stepped forward to display the rather bulky kit he was holding in the crook of his left arm. Spock consulted his internal clock. Nine minutes until scheduled departure. If he wanted to get away on time, it would be wisest for him not to challenge any of their offerings. Spock composed himself to listen patiently.

Dr. McCoy did not observe him, but was busy digging through the kit. "Now, you've got enough aboard the shuttle to handle any routine emergency— physically. But why the Sam Hill you didn't bring any medications is beyond me."

Spock broke his newly born resolution not to speak. "Human medication—"

"Shut up. I'm not letting you say 'no' to this."

Spock resolved once again that silence was golden.

McCoy dug through his pack. "Painkiller, coagulation enhancer, every kind of antibiotic you can think of—" He looked up. "It's an unknown planet, Spock. You have no idea what kind of medication is going to work against these bugs."

"Indeed. That is why I had chosen—"

"And bug spray!" He briefly held up a canister of it, and then dropped it back into the bag. "Why the heck you aren't taking bug spray is beyond me." McCoy shook his head and resumed pawing through the contents. "Prevention, Spock. That's better than any cure."

Spock could see Nyota and Sulu trying to hide their smiles. He merely said, "In this instance, Doctor, I agree with you."

McCoy apparently found what he was looking for. He removed a flat packet that had a viscous quality. "Firestarter."

"I am carrying an adequate quantity of pyro tablets, Doctor."

"Pyro tabs are useless if you can't find a hard surface to strike them against."

Nyota interjected quietly, "Such as, if you're in a bog."

Spock glanced her way, recalling their conversation of the night before. Her thoughts were obviously similarly engaged, as she was smiling fondly in a way that warmed Spock inside.

But McCoy appeared to observe nothing strange about their interaction. "She's right. Now, this stuff—" He held the packet close to Spock's face, as if proximity would reveal its secrets. "You just take a piece out and twist it, and if there's any organic material at hand—"

"As there would be, in a bog," Kirk added, not understanding the joke but obviously enjoying how much the subject entertained Nyota.

"You smear it on that," McCoy continued, as if the others hadn't spoken, "and it will light."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Spock formally. "I can envision a circumstance where that might prove useful."

"It's no joke!" McCoy scolded, apparently failing to understand that Spock had just agreed with him. "A man can get hypothermia at 15° C. That's shirtsleeve weather. You only have to get a little cold and wet—"

Sulu interrupted, "Such as, in a bog?" Then he, Nyota, Kirk, and Scotty ducked their heads to hide their snickers.

McCoy threw up his hands. "I give up."

Spock gracefully took the bulky kit and the sealed packet from McCoy. "Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

Nyota stepped forward. She was—as he should have surmised—carrying a heavy pair of water-resistant boots. "Here. Use these when you get to your bog."

McCoy glanced irritably at the grinning people around him. "What's all this about a bog?"

The others broke into laughter. Spock said, "Lieutenant Uhura was kind enough to share some of her concerns with me last night over possible hazards I might encounter."

"And you're planning to sink into a bog?"

Nyota nearly doubled over, squelching her giggles with her hand. Kirk, watching her, beamed indulgently.

Spock said calmly, "No, Doctor. I've decided against it."

Scotty stepped forward. "Well, when you're sinkin' into the bog, before ye get too far in, you just might find this useful." He held forth the item he'd chosen to bring. "A laser beacon. Just in case, ye know, Emagious III has an environment that happens to put out a lot of interference. This wee lass," he tapped the cylinder's housing affectionately, "will be able to cut through almost any communication difficulty, easy as breathing."

"Thank you for your consideration, Mr. Scott." Spock shifted McCoy's bag and Kirk's hose to the crook of his arm, and took the laser beacon. Nyota set her jungle boots at his feet.

Spock turned his attention to Mr. Sulu. The helmsman seemed nervous, fiddling with a metallic object in his hand. "Well, sir, the Lieutenant told me about your dislike of sonic repellers. I understand; I don't care for them myself. And I can see why you might not want to fall back on using a phaser. That's been known to unintentionally damage a sensitive species."

Sulu kept his eyes from Kirk as he spoke, but Spock saw the captain perk up at hearing this piece of information. His gaze slide speculatively toward Spock—but Spock kept his attention focused on the helmsman.

"Still," Sulu continued, "I felt you shouldn't be without a long-range weapon of some sort. So... here's my compromise."

He held forth the item he'd been playing with. It was a sturdy tube about 20 cm in length with a slip-proof grip on the handle. Spock took it curiously.

The helmsman leaned forward. "There's a catch just above the grip here." He pressed a lever, and two metallic arms sprang from the end of the shaft to form a Y shape, with a connecting strap between them.

"It's a slingshot," Sulu explained. "An old Earth weapon. You put a projectile into the pocket of the strap, a stone or other heavy object. You pull it back by your cheek—here, let me show you."

Spock returned the weapon, and Sulu demonstrated the stance. He released the tension on the strap and returned the gift to Spock. "It's surprisingly accurate, and with a heavy projectile, you can get a range of 100 meters or more. In the base here—" Spock turned the weapon over, and Sulu pried off the end cap (as Spock's other hand was full). A flat, silver pellet gleamed inside. "You've got ten shots loaded into the handle. They're too light to travel far, but upon impact they'll burst, emitting a noxious gas and making a loud noise. It's another alternative, if you want to frighten something away without hurting it."

Spock found himself somewhat at a loss for words. He watched as the helmsman meticulously closed up the handle, restoring the slingshot to its ready state. Spock examined its sleek lines thoughtfully. "Thank you, Mr. Sulu. I will indeed find your offering to be of use."

Sulu nodded and stepped back, his heightened color betraying his self-consciousness. Nyota was looking at him with gratitude shining from her face. Kirk still watched Spock with a sour expression. He was in all probability awaiting an opening to follow up on Sulu's phaser statement.

Just then the overhead comm went on. Chekov's youthful voice announced, "Two minutes until shuttle launch. Two minutes until optimum distance."

"Well, we'd better get going." Nyota stepped forward and gave Spock a peck on the lips. He generally was not in favor of public displays of affection, although Nyota had assured him that such gestures among humans were common and unremarkable. Unremarkable, indeed. Clearly Nyota misunderstood the potency of her kisses, however brief.

"Good luck," "Safe journey," muttered the others, waving at him because it was impossible to shake Spock's hand, as he held the open medical bag, hose, and laser beacon in one hand and his slingshot in the other. Nyota's boots nestled at his feet.

Kirk pointed a finger at him as he backed out of the shuttle bay. "Remember, your phaser's no good if you don't keep it on you." He winked, and followed the others out the double-wide door. The last glimpse Spock had of them was Nyota's face peeping through the closing doors, blowing him a kiss.

The doors shut, and Spock allowed himself 2.5 seconds to recompose himself. Then he raised his voice to address the three technicians who were still double-checking various components on the far side of the bay. "Thank you, gentlemen. That will be all."

The technicians exited quickly without fuss. The doors closed.

Swiftly Spock reached down to gather Nyota's jungle boots into his collection. He crossed toward one of the storage lockers and, fumbling a little with his burdens, opened the latch. He dumped the entire assortment inside, saving out only McCoy's firestarter packet and Sulu's slingshot. He slammed shut the lid and locked it, then hurried into the shuttle.

The oxygen canister was heavy, but he hadn't time for the anti-grav units. He wrestled the unwanted canister out of his aft hold and lugged it toward the storage locker. He wrenched it into place and locked it down with the other tanks, and then dashed back into the shuttle.

He arrived to the sound of Mr. Chekov's voice coming from the main panel. "—ock. Come in, Mr. Spock. Commander, do you read me?"

Spock slid into the pilot's chair, slightly out of breath. He touched the comm button. "Spock here."

"Commander, request permission to initiate launch cycle."

"Standby, Ensign." Spock glanced over his shoulder to verify that the forward hatch and aft door had closed. Swiftly he checked the indicators on his main panel. "Permission granted."

"Initiating launch cycle."

The warning lights and buzzer sounded, and the shuttlebay doors began to open. Beyond them glimmered the deep starfield of space. Spock ran through his prelaunch sequence rapidly. All lights showed green.

"Evacuating bay," came Chekov's warning.

The force field dropped, and the atmosphere rushed out the open door into space. Spock heard it as a whisper against the skin of his craft, followed by hard silence. He hit the startup sequence. "Engaging engines."

"Confirmed, Galileo. You are clear for launch."

The craft lifted with a satisfying nimbleness. Within 3 seconds, Spock had cleared the bay doors and was engulfed in the brilliant night of space. He felt a weight lift away from him. In fact, he seemed to feel lighter with every passing meter as the Enterprise fell away behind him. It was a curiously soothing impression.

He adjusted his course. "Steering two-seven-oh mark seven," he reported.

"Course correction confirmed. At projected course and speed, you should arrive at Emagious III in... 42 hours, 53 minutes."

"Acknowledged, Enterprise."

Kirk's voice broke in. "Have a fun trip!"

Fun. Spock sank into his chair. No, having fun was not Spock's purpose. He wondered if any human would understand—and then dismissed the inquiry as meaningless. No one fully understood another's situation. A meld could drop that barrier, for a time; but as soon as it was over, each participant was as isolated and misunderstood as before. To wish for circumstances to be otherwise was illogical.

It took an act of will for him to touch the comm button to respond. "Acknowledged." He wondered if his voice sounded as gravelly to the people on the bridge as it did to himself.

Nyota's voice whispered to him from the console, "We'll be tracking you out of the system."

Spock worked to find his voice. "Thank you, Enterprise. It is appreciated."

The voice link went dead. Apparently, everyone on the starship finally felt that enough parting words had been said.

Spock closed his eyes with relief. The shuttle powered smoothly forward, as he wrapped the silence of space around him.