Kirk was walking his ship. He tried to be out and about on the lower

decks of the Enterprise as often as he could, to see the crew who did

not, in the ordinary course of their duties, encounter the captain.

It was also a habit of his, when worried or trying to think, to patrol

the corridors of the Enterprise as if guarding her from intruders.

Crewmembers on night shift nodded to him as they went about their

business, most knowing their captain well enough to realise that no

more formal acknowledgement was needed, Kirk being where he didn't

need to be, and it being the middle of alpha shift's night. Kirk

looked in on hydroponics, complimented the yeoman in charge of the

food synthesizers on the truly excellent night shift chicken-with-

almonds-and-don't-ask, refrained from asking, and went on to

engineering.

To his untrained eye, everything seemed to be fully functional in

engineering, although if there had been anything short of a major

coolant leak he probably wouldn't have spotted it. He congratulated

the engineering shift on meeting Mr Scott's high standards, suffered

himself to be given a personal tour of the phasar banks by an

enthusiastic Lemurian Lieutenant, then stuck his head into sickbay

(having made sure McCoy was off shift) to see if there was anyone

there who needed cheering.

There wasn't, and he found his steps tending towards science lab

seven. Ann Ridley was there, as she usually was even this late into

the night, bent over a mass spectrometer with a PADD in one hand.

Kirk coughed, to let her know he was there, and she said, absently:

"Hold on one minute there."

Kirk wondered if her reaction would have been different if she'd known

it was the captain behind her. Probably, he thought with wry

amusement, not.

Ridley showed a single-minded dedication to her work that was

impressive, although her temper was less obvious these days. She

finished what she was doing and turned. "Oh, captain." she said. "Is

anything wrong?"

"My inner clock," he said, smiling. "I can't sleep. What are you up

to?"

"I'm trying to reconstruct as much of the Ser Etta research as I can.

It's possible that the shuttle crash had something to do with a bio-

toxin containment breach or something else that made them do something

- so stupid."

"What have you found?"

"Nothing as yet. Joseph - Riboud - was working on Mansinni's

syndrome, but that's silicon based and unlikely to have effected any

of the research team. Everything else seems pretty much what you'd

expect." She perched herself on a lab stool and indicated that he

should do the same. Kirk did, feeling a little undignified with his

feet dangling. "I'm sorry, Captain. I wish I could have found

something to help with your people, but planetary weather isn't really

my speciality."

"It isn't the speciality of many, in Starfleet." Kirk said.

"Substeller weather is more our kind of thing. And, please, call me

Jim."

"Jim." she said, smiling slightly. "I'm Ann." Even smiling, she looked

sad.

"It's kind of late for you to still be here, Ann."

"Same as you, I couldn't sleep. I keep wishing I could do something

useful, but all I can think of is the base research, and that isn't

particularly useful."

"You never know, on an starship mission." Kirk told her, meaning to be

light. Perhaps the memory of all the other times 'you never know' had

turned out to be unimaginably deadly reached his voice, or his eyes,

because Ann looked at him quizzically. "I mean," he corrected himself,

"you can't predict what happens, or what's important, in a situation

full of unknowns. A side branch of some innocuous type of biological

research could turn out to hold the key to a whole new science of

weather management, for example." It was weak, and he knew it, but she

gave him a smile the joke didn't deserve.

"I was thinking of trying the night shift chicken-with-almonds-and-

don't-ask." he ventured. "Care to join me?"

"You actually call it that?"

"Right on the synthesiser board. It's a long Starfleet tradition."

"This I have to see," Ann said sceptically, getting to her feet.

"What else do you have on that board?"

He laughed. 'With 430 crew from nearly 50 different species, what

don't we have? From alphabet soup to zircon, the synthesizers handle

it all."

She rewarded him with another smile, and as they went down the hall to

the turbolift he began telling her about the needs of the two

crewmembers who consumed only light beams, and then the highly

carnivorous Gips, who required that their meals be alive... By the

time he got her to laugh, they were nearly finished their meal, and

Kirk realised with a sudden stab of guilt, he hadn't worried about

Spock more than twice in the time...

The first aftershock hit as they were raising the shelter, but the

rock beneath them was solid enough and no cracks opened up beneath

them. Larssen lost hold of the rope she was fastening and muttered

"Dogs copulating" in Romulan, and then "Dogs copulating with their

ancestors" when she had to search through the snow for the peg it went

with, but they got the shelter up in good time and dragged Grenwood,

travois and all, inside.

Larssen began ministering to the ensign and Spock let her. He found

the young man's obvious emotional distress physically uncomfortable at

close quarters, and remained at the other end of the survival shelter,

analysing his readings of the geological event they had just endured.

He ran his readings against his recording of the area where the rest

of the landing party had remained, and noted that they were in minimal

danger, before turning his attention to plotting a route for the rest

of the expedition that would take them through the areas of greatest

geological safety. Hearing Larssen crossing the shelter to him, he

looked up.

"I have established a low probability of harm to Yeoman Brand and the

others." he said, and she smiled. He noted the signs of strain around

her eyes and mouth and hoped she too would not collapse. He was not

sure what he would do if both his human crew curled up in the corner

sobbing and refusing to move. It was not a situation he had

experience with.

"Bob's sleeping." she said, and for the first time her quiet voice was

soft with fatigue rather than composure. Spock wondered how much of

her previous equanimity had been assumed for Ensign Grenwood's

benefit. "Or rather, he's passed out. I shot him full of delactovine

and adrenalse, but he needs proper medical care, sir."

Larssen knew as well as Spock that proper medical care was on the

Enterprise or at the research base.

"Can he endure further travel?"

She shook her head. "The cold will kill him long before we could get

him to the base, sir."

"Then we will remain here." he said.

"That will only ... delay ... matters, sir." Larssen said. "It's not -

it's not just physical, sir. He's given up, sir."

Spock had observed in the past that the more emotional species in the

Federation were prone to psychological ailments that could produce

fatal symptoms, particularly when combined with physical distress.

Despair makes even shallow cuts fatal, Dr McCoy had said once,

explaining the otherwise inexplicable death of a crew member.

Spock knew also that such ailments could be reduced, even relieved: he

had seen Jim Kirk persuade crew who were ready to lie down and die to

perform at the highest levels of efficiency. Unfortunately, he did

not know how his captain achieved this, or how to replicate it. He

said as much to Lieutenant Larssen.

"I don't either." she admitted. "I'm no Captain Kirk, sir."

And neither are you. her eyes said, before she turned away, and went

to lie down beside Grenwood.

Grenwood did not improve with a day of rest, and Spock realised that

the decision to go on without Larssen and Grenwood, leaving them to

die, or to give up the attempt to reach the base, was upon him.

However, it no longer seemed like an impossible dilemma. When he had

told Larssen that leaving Grenwood behind was not acceptable, he had

meant it. He would remain here with the two Enterprise crew and

preserve their lives to the best of his abilities. The thought of the

lost lives that the cure for Mansinni's Syndrome might have saved

weighed on him, but with a regret for the unachievable rather than an

urgent imperative.

When Larssen raised the matter with him in the evening, he told her

so. Instead of looking relieved, she frowned.

"You should go on, sir. I mean - I'd rather you didn't, personally,

but it's the logical thing."

"I have long ago ceased to be surprised," he told her "at human's

ideas of logical behaviour. Simply because something is what you

least desire to do, does not, automatically, make it the logical

option."

She did not seem to understand, "No, sir, but in this case, there are

so many who could be saved by that information, against me, and Bob.

I thought, anyway - we could build a sort of igloo, perhaps? And then

we'd be alright while you were gone."

"Not without a heat source, Lieutenant, and we have only one of

those."

"Bob is dying anyway." Larssen said tightly, as if he had not grasped

that fact.

"And you desire me to hasten his death? And cause yours?"

"No! No, but -" She paused. 'I - can't bear to think of - of all

those people, the last time there was a major outbreak of Mansinni's

tens of thousands died, I can't stand it, sir." Her face was set as

she looked up at him. "I can't let myself think about it sir, I can't

let it happen. The needs of the many - outweigh the needs of the few.

Of mine. And Bob's."

"Lieutenant," he said patiently, "that is an aspect of Vulcan

philosophy which is widely misunderstood. It might be the criteria

for a decision if all other possibilities were closed. However, a

great many things may yet happen. The Enterprise might discover a way

to communicate with us, even to transport us off the planet. The

negotiations could be delayed. The Realgar system could have become a

Federation priority for another reason while we have been out of

communication. The necessary compound may be discovered on another

planet, or a method of synthesising it may be invented. All of these

things are possible. If I take the shelter and the heat source and

travel on without you, these things remain possible, and I add another

possibility to them: that I reach the base in time to communicate with

the Enterprise and affect the negotiations. If I do so, however,

Ensign Grenwood's possibilities - and your own - end here. That is an

outcome I am not prepared to cause. This is not a matter for

discussion."

"Yes sir." she murmured. He moved back slightly, instinctively, at

the sudden surge of her emotions, but she controlled herself quickly.

"I'm very sorry, Commander."

"You have nothing to apologise for." he told her, puzzled.

"I made a bad mistake with Grenwood. He'd still be back at the other

shelter, bored and safe, if I -"

"Your reasoning is faulty, Lieutenant. I chose Grenwood for this

expedition before you made your suggestions as to the composition of

the party. You have performed your duties to the utmost of your

capability, which is all that anyone can expect."

"Yes, sir." she said miserably, and stared down at her hands. Spock

was aware that another officer - Kirk, perhaps, or McCoy, or

Montgomery Scott - would have spoken, then, and found something to say

which offered comfort, and hope. He was not them, and did not know

how to go about such a thing. Nonetheless, Larssen was his

responsibility, and he could not allow her to sink into the despair

that had overtaken Ensign Grenwood. Spock cleared his throat.

"Do not spend time considering irrelevant possibilities, Lieutenant.

Such speculation is fruitless."

"'Irrelevant possibilities'? You mean, what if you'd left all of us

and gone alone, taking the risk the other shelter would support five?

What if I'd suggested Brand instead of Grenwood? What if I'd hit the

panic button the minute communications began to be disrupted?"

"That is precisely what I mean. We must deal with the universe as it

is, not as we would like it to be."

"Regretting nothing?"

"To regret is human, Lieutenant. But I do not regret you were there

to help me out of the ravine yesterday. If you must speculate, that

is one 'what if' you should consider. If you had not been there, I

would undoubtedly have died."

"You would have got yourself out somehow, sir."

"Your faith is reassuring," Spock said dryly, "and if you should

establish what that 'somehow' would have been I would like to know -

for future reference."

She grinned, then, and it was close to her normal expression.

"Possibly," he went on "without you and the ensign along, I would have

been closer to the base and in an area of more severe disturbance.

When you consider actions you could have taken or choices your could

have made differently, remember that they could have had unforseen

negative outcomes as surely as the choices and actions you did take."

"Yes, sir." she said, and Spock saw that it was more than a formal

acknowledgement. Larssen's eyes were clearer, and her she sat a little

straighter. "Thank you, sir."

He inclined his head, and turned back to his tricorder, where he was

running one more set of frequency analyses on the atmospheric

interference. This was a most uncomfortable conversation, and one he

had no desire to continue. Larssen, however, did not recognise (or

chose not to recognise) the non-verbal instruction to let the matter

lie.

"Sir, this "dealing with the universe as it is", I seem to remember

reading something about it in the writings of Surak."

He looked up again. "Yes, Lieutenant, it is one of Surak's sayings."

"Is that how Vulcans seem to - manage - so well?"

He laid the tricorder aside, and she went on hastily: "I'm sorry if

that's a privacy issue, sir. Forget I -"

"No, Ms Larssen. Surak's teachings are not private to Vulcans. His

instructions to celebrate diversity would preclude such an

interpretation."

"Then - is there some way you could teach me to understand that, sir?

To accept things as they are?"

He regarded her impassively. "It is not a question of teaching,

Lieutenant, but one of learning. Many of Surak's lessons are connected

to the mind disciplines which are unique to Vulcan, and to Vulcans.

While I am able to describe the philosophy of Surak, and repeat his

words, that does not necessarily mean you would be able to learn."

"No, sir." Larssen said. "I see." She gave a slight shrug, and

turned away. "Just a thought."

He watched her as she checked Grenwood's condition again and busied

herself with double-checking their food supplies. They might well be

forced to remain here for some time, Spock reasoned, and while the

enforced inactivity would have no effect on him, it might well have a

deleterious effect on Lieutenant Larssen's morale. As she finished

checking the food supplies and turned to the equally unnecessary task

of double-checking their medical supplies, he spoke.

"Lieutenant. Surak wrote that the first necessary lesson was to

surpass fear. The relevant part of his writings used the analogy of a

lematya in one's house. Until one admitted the presence of the

lematya, he wrote, one could not call animal control and have it

removed. Refusing to admit the presence of the lematya might save

one's pride, but it will not make the lematya go away. Similarly,

pretending not to be afraid is not the same thing as casting out fear.

To understand Surak's teachings, one must first understand this."

Larssen had given him her full attention as he spoke, and nodded. "I

will try to do so, sir."

He noted that she did not turn to another unnecessary task, but sat

down beside Grenwood, her expression thoughtful. Spock could not

judge her ability to comprehend Surak's teachings, but he judged that

the attempt would occupy her mind. As a Vulcan, the degree of her

understanding was of interest to him. As a Starfleet officer, he was

satisfied to engage her mind and keep her from useless speculation and

draining self-recrimination.