As the Vulcan once again slips into unconsciousness, with his eyes rolling backward into shutting lids, the physician at his bedside pays no heed to the evening hour. He had not, during this trying day; only excepting, that is, of the time-sensitive condition and treatment of his friend. Time-sensitive, in the fact that if the greatly needed and currently unavailable Benjisidrine is not acquired within the following half-day, all hope may be lost for the patient. Of this, the medico is indeed aware. With a mixture of woe and sympathy and hope, he glances at the First Officer, whilst appropriate preparations are made to once more part the folds of flesh that veil his heart, and repair any damage done by this latest attack.

While the laser scalpel slices into the skin, a herald appears to the doctor. Not from the ship's chronometer, but a man; one Doctor M'Benga, to be specific. He, whilst entering the ward's opened door, is McCoy's herald of the hour's lateness. The fresher-faced medico soon approaches his colleague, and the biobed atop which the Vulcan lay. An air of professional concern surrounds M'Benga, marking its lines upon his face. He knows of Spock's rather rare visitations to the ward, making his concern that much more justified. Now, he utters his inquiry at McCoy in a very low tone.

"What happened?"

"He's just had his second heart attack. I had to put him under again...". The reply from the fatigued associate causes M'Benga's brow to furrow.

"How long ago was the first?"

"A few hours."

"Strange...excuse me.". M'Benga soon departs from his colleague and the patient in a contemplative silence.

The rather brief exchange did not hinder the surgery's commencement, nor did it perturb the attending physician's concentration.

Yes, Doctor McCoy is quite aware of the oddness to the Vulcan's sudden awakening so soon after the surgery following his initial heart attack. However, due to the critical factor of time, and the careful utilisation thereof, he had not overly concerned himself with the 'how' in that regard. His focus had been more occupied with what it was that had afflicted his friend, how it had entered his body, how best to treat him... That is not to say that he wasn't disquieted by the patient's apparent regain of consciousness so quickly; it was merely that he hadn't the time to investigate such an unusual occurrence.

With McCoy's focus still fixated onto the patient, it is with the arrival of M'Benga and his keen mind that this particular riddle may soon be unravelled.

Whilst the Vulcan's heart is undergoing repairs yet again, the fresh-faced medico traverses the ward's sterile flooring. In mere moments, he approaches the bench adorned by the blood analysis machine; the very instrument his colleague utilised not long before. Such is M'Benga's knowledge, that he is very much aware of McCoy's usage of the machine in his medical investigation. This adherence to correct procedures is coupled with the professional synergy of both men.

His fingers now floating over the instrument, M'Benga glances back at his associate.

"You still have a sample of his blood in here, right?", he queries.

"Yeah...looking for something specific?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

With a tiny trill and a mechanic thrum, the blood analysis device is once again activated by M'Benga's stable hand. The fresh-faced physician places himself upon the chair to which the bench is assigned, his trained eye studying the additional sample that speckles a fresh dish in the microscope's viewfinder. A series of instructions is entered into the analysis machine, again by the medico's hand, thus informing the computer of what it is he now seeks.


Entering the bridge once more – after many hours of absence – the Captain and Lieutenant take the initiating steps of their joint plan. A rather fortunate element for Kirk's part is the fact that Sulu is currently situated at the Captain's chair, in temporary placement of he by whom the furniture is normally occupied. The blond man almost wonders if his crewmate had attended the gathering; that, however, is a query for another day. There is presently a much more urgent and serious matter to heed.

"Mr Sulu, I need you to look for something in the arboretum database – the Benji plant. I want to know if we have one aboard the ship.", before the helmsman rises from the chair, the Captain halts him to utter his instruction in a hushed tone.

The plan must not be made aware to too many, in the likely probability that the Vulcan's attacker is amongst those personnel currently stationed at the bridge.

"Benji plant, sir? That's native to Vulcan."

"I know... The Medbay needs it for medicinal purposes."

"Aye, sir. I'll get right on it." The helmsman quietly departs from his temporary seating, making the journey toward the turbolift.

During this hushed exchange, the Communications Officer contrarily does not return to her own station; she instead travels to that of the Security Officer. Under the guise of a routine check of the console, she politely ushers aside the crew member positioned there. Uhura has indeed been trained in the maintenance and repair of her own console, also the duties of other positions within the bridge personnel, so her facade is at least believable. With the lesser crew member relieved of her post, she is soon advised by her Captain to retire to her quarters for "a good night's sleep". Yes, the hour is indeed late.

After the Security Officer is veiled by the turbolift's closing doors, the Lieutenant settles into the console's now vacant chair. The Captain soon appears at her side, his figure leaned against the seat in an attempt to shield from wandering eyes the screen at which Uhura now stares. Her deftly trained fingertips touch at the array of controls, entering into the computer her commands. The system heeds her instructions, displaying to her the visage of a room spattered by vacant tables and chairs. The timestamp in the image's corner is of multiple hours prior to the present; a time that aligns with the moments before the birthday gathering.

"You're thinking whoever attacked Spock found the right moment at the party?", inquires Kirk upon sighting the recreation room footage; his eyes dart about the space behind them before his body shifts closer to the console.

"It's just a hunch – "

"But it's all we have going for us right now.". His voice, already hushed, now takes on a much quieter tone, more so than when his speech began. "We'll find who did this, Uhura, and they will answer for their crime. You have my word on that."

The following thought is not uttered aloud, yet is almost shared between the two friends. Fuelled by a conjoint rage toward the one who harmed their Vulcan shipmate, this lone phrase forms within their minds as the Lieutenant's eyes and fingers prance over the console in front of her.

Even if I have to kill them myself.