Author's Note: Set after Journey to Babel.

CHAPTER 1.

"Captain on the Bridge!"

"At ease, Mr Sulu." Kirk instructed, grinning despite himself when he saw that every crewmember aboard the Bridge had sprung to attention. It was an outdated custom, one he himself had abolished early on in his captaincy, but he appreciated the gesture. He had been in Sickbay for the past two days, recovering from a stab wound inflicted by Thelev, an Andorian who was later revealed to be an Orion agent in disguise. Settling back into the Captain's chair, he could not deny that it felt nice to know he had been missed. As he sat, however, he noticed the absence of one crewman in particular.

"Lieutenant Uhura, where is Mr Spock?"

"His shift ended a few hours ago, Captain. I believe he went with Ambassador Sarek to tour the science labs."

"Excellent," Kirk said, with feeling. It would seem that, even within Spock's complicated family dynamic, reconciliation was in the air. After the last few days of assassination attempts, forced diplomacy and his own, remarkably dull, period of recovery in Sickbay, he was relieved that things were settling back to normal. Or, at least, as normal as things ever were aboard the Enterprise.

"Mr Sulu, how long until we arrive at Babel?"

"Sixteen hours at our current speed, Captain."

"Perfect. Uhura, transmit me ship-wide."

"Putting you on now, Captain."

Kirk cleared his throat. "Attention, all passengers. We will arrive at the Babel Conference within one solar day. Upon arrival, you will be provided further details as to your quarters and the Conference schedule." He smiled wryly, adding, "We hope your stay aboard the Enterprise has been… pleasant."

At his signal, Uhura cut the transmission. "Will that be all, Captain?"

"One more thing Lieutenant, send a list of shore leave parties out to the crew."

"Shore leave, Keptin?" Chekhov turned in his seat, eyes hopeful. "All crew?"

"I rather think we've earned it after this trip, don't you Mr Chekhov?"

"Yes, Keptin!"

Conversation around the Bridge drifted towards shore leave plans and Kirk spared a glance to the vacated science station. Happy as he was to be back on duty, with Spock spending some quality time with his family, he was eager to see an end to this trip. The Enterprise was a starship, an exploration vessel – not a floating hotel, regardless of how the ambassadors aboard might be treating it. Even now, he could hear Uhura fielding complaints from the Altarian ambassadors about the temperature controls in their room.

"Captain!" He spun around in his chair, Uhura's tone having suddenly changed from placating to urgent. "Security have just patched through an alert – Lady Amanda was just attacked in her quarters!"

Kirk surged up and out of his seat. "Sulu, take the conn!"

He skidded to a halt in the doorway of Amanda's bedroom and had to hold back an inappropriate bubble of laughter at the sight which met him there.

Lady Amanda, regal and composed as ever, surveyed a very large and very unconscious man at her feet. She may have been human, but at this particular moment her expression dripped with pure Vulcan disdain. Her room was packed full of red-shirted officers and Kirk realised, with a jolt of visceral unease, that the man who had attacked her was also in Starfleet uniform.

"Captain." She smiled when he entered. "I am afraid your security team have transpired to be rather superfluous."

Lieutenant Giotto stepped forward sheepishly. "By the time we arrived, Lady Amanda already had the situation well in hand."

"Yes. Yes, I can see that, Lieutenant." Kirk looked to Amanda curiously. "Nerve pinch?"

She smiled innocently. "I am afraid I resorted to a slightly less Vulcan approach. His left arm is broken, and I expect he'll have a nasty concussion."

"I see." Kirk turned back to Giotto and the other security officers. "Do any of you recognise this man?"

The contingent peered collectively at the blond hair and bloodied temple.

"I might have seen him around Captain, but I was never on shift with him," one ensign put forward and the others all murmured in agreement. "Maybe he's from engineering?"

Amanda peered down at the man who had tried to kill her with a detached curiosity. "I couldn't say whether I recognise him. As an Ambassador's wife you come to meet so many different people. Faces start to look alike."

Kirk could easily empathise. Trying to memorize nearly five hundred crewmen on his ship was no easy task, as this incident had clearly revealed. He, too, felt as though he might have seen this man, but had never spoken to him beyond the odd greeting in the hallways or rec room.

"Giotto, call a medical team. Once he's been looked over, have him put in the Brig. I'll question him there when he comes to."

"Of course, Captain."

Kirk went back to Amanda. "I thought we were through with assassination attempts, at least on this voyage."

"I thought the same." She was still looking at the man on the floor. "This was different from the Orions' schemes, though. I don't think this attack was planned."

"What makes you say that?"

"The Orions' plan was well thought through, executed nearly to perfection... But I don't think my attacker planned his approach at all. It was rushed, it was hasty."

"Captain!" Giotto's panicked voice interrupted their brief conversation. "That was Sickbay, sir. They're on their way, but were delayed with a different emergency."

"What emergency?"

"Mr Spock, sir! He collapsed during a tour of the Science Labs."

Ambassador Sarek awaited them outside the Sickbay doors.

"Amanda, are you well?" He asked as they rounded the corner. "Lieutenant Giotto told Nurse Chapel there was an attack."

"I'm fine, Sarek. How is Spock? What happened?"

"During our visit to the Botany Labs, Spock revealed that his capacity for thought was growing impaired." Sarek's words were impassive, but Kirk noted that he had reached with two fingers for Amanda, who met him with her own. "His breathing, too, became compromised. Doctor McCoy's initial scan on arrival revealed that Spock's blood production was up by nearly 200%. A result, no doubt, of the experimental drug used to facilitate the blood transfusion. This increase of blood production, so Doctor McCoy informed me, resulted in sepsis and subsequent organ failure."

Organ failure? Kirk thought with some alarm, as Amanda looked enquiringly to the closed doors of the Sickbay and back to her husband.

"The Doctor insisted I remain out here." Sarek's eyebrow flickered. "He was particularly colorful in his choice of phrasing."

"That's Bones's idea of bedside manner," Kirk joked, but quickly grew serious as he squared up to the door. "Come on, they must know something more by now."

Working with Spock, McCoy had grown quite adept at reading Vulcan worry – and Ambassador Sarek was worried. He rattled off information dispassionately regarding his son's medical history – and McCoy would have to follow that up later, because trying to squeeze any information from Spock himself was about as useful as trying to squeeze blood from a stone. Then, as they entered the Sickbay, Sarek started to ask McCoy questions – percentages, numbers, oxygen levels, all very important but not totally relevant right now. And yes, maybe he could have phrased it better when he ordered the Ambassador of Vulcan to get the hell out of his Sickbay, but at least Chapel was on hand to soften the blow.

"Ambassador, perhaps if you waited out here for the moment…"

McCoy ignored Sarek's departure, helping transfer Spock from the anti-grav gurney to a bio bed. Spock's brows were furrowed, lending him a puzzled expression few had seen. He took in the bustling nurses with bewilderment, breathing increasingly shallow.

"Alright Spock, you try and relax now. You're gonna be just fine."

Shockingly, Spock actually did as McCoy instructed, and relaxed. His eyes drifted shut, his head lolled back against the Sickbay-issue pillow and, as the monitor above his head began to screech, McCoy realised he had in fact succumbed to unconsciousness.

"Tri-ox!" A hypo was shoved readily into his had and he depressed it swiftly into Spock's shoulder. "Get a ventilator on standby."

They worked over Spock, pumping him with medications, taking readings, and pumping him with yet more medications. The tri-ox had little effect, and McCoy ordered a medical ensign to get their patient fixed up with a ventilation mask. At some point, Christine disappeared to another emergency, but McCoy was so busy working that it was only once he was certain Spock's condition was stable that he began to wonder what said-emergency had been.

"Bones?" It was Kirk's unusually timid enquiry that drew him from his concentrated inspection of Spock's chart. "Ambassador Sarek and Lady Amanda would like to see their son, if that's alright?"

"Oh! Er, sure." McCoy had the good grace to look a little embarrassed. "Sorry about, er, yelling at you there Ambassador. I didn't mean-"

"There is no need for apology. I understand the human tendency to become over emotional better than most Vulcans would."

Amanda shot a warning glance at her husband. "Try and remember you're speaking to a man who saved your life a few short days ago."

"A day can be neither short nor long, my Wife."

She ignored this comment with practiced grace. "How is he, Doctor?"

"Better than he was." They gathered around Spock's bed. Save for the ventilator that half-covered his face, he might otherwise have been deep in meditation. "It's that experimental Rigellian drug, the one that upped his blood production. A new medication interacting with his physiology which, you know, has never been predictable… I've got him on a cocktail of medication, trying to counteract the effects, but it'll have him woozy for the next few days at least. He'll have to be monitored in Sickbay, if we want to be safe."

"And that's all it was?" Kirk questioned. "Just a side effect of the drug? Nothing more sinister?"

McCoy frowned. "I don't think so, no. Why?"

"I was attacked in my quarters earlier today," Amanda explained. "The timing does seem like an unusual coincidence."

"Another attack?" McCoy shook his head in disbelief. "Your family have got to have the worst luck I've ever heard of. But in Spock's case, it's just that. Bad luck, and an experimental drug that didn't react quite the way we wanted it too." He picked up Spock's chart and flipped through it. "See here? Traces of the stimulant, still in his system. For Rigellians, this didn't pose an issue, in small doses the drug doesn't have an effect. We thought it'd be the same for Spock, but I guess not."

"You 'guess'," Sarek echoed flatly. "I would have expected a more thorough examination before my son was declared fit for duty."

McCoy's face grew hot. "As you may recall, Ambassador, it was Commander Spock who insisted on being discharged at the same time you were. I wanted to keep him in for further observation!"

"Well, let's just be glad that Spock is in good hands and that there's nothing more malicious at play," Kirk interjected, with a firm look to McCoy. "Speaking of which, I had best go to the Brig and question Lady Amanda's attacker."

"Yeah, sure. I'll let you know if anything changes." McCoy cast Sarek a dark look and retreated to his office. Kirk nodded farewell to the Ambassador and his wife and departed too.