I

It was dark and quiet inside the captain's cabin on board the U.S.S. ENTERPRISE. Captain Kirk was fast asleep, lying on top of the warm, strong body of his Vulcan bondmate and first officer. Both men were still lying the way that they had fallen asleep last night; Commander Spock's right arm was wrapped loosely around Kirk's waist beneath the covers, while Kirk had both arms around Spock's waist. Beside the bed, their clothes lay in a mingled heap, with Spock's blue uniform shirt beneath Kirk's gold one. On top of the bedside table beneath the lamp was a much-dented, nearly depleted tube of lubricant, along with Kirk's gold and platinum chronometer.

The pre-dawn quiet was shattered by a hailing whistle from the computer console on the captain's desk. Kirk woke up, reached for his chronometer, and stared at it groggily. The illuminated dial said 0500 exactly. What the hell am I being woken up for at this ungodly hour? Kirk wondered. Reluctant to leave his nice, warm bed and his equally nice, warm bondmate, he nevertheless managed to drag himself away from both. After gently unwinding Spock's arm from around his waist, he covered him up with the sheet and golden insulated blanket before getting up to answer the call of duty.

By the time he got to his desk, Kirk was alert enough to remember which button to press to activate the comm link. He also remembered in time to lean in close enough to the screen so only his face would be visible. When Lieutenant Uhura's face appeared on the screen, he was relieved at having taken this precaution. Wouldn't do for poor Uhura to see me stark naked before she's even had her coffee! He chuckled inwardly as he imagined what the expression on her face would have been if she had. "Yes, Lieutenant?" he said, trying to sound wide awake. "Good morning, sir!" Uhura said brightly. "This is your 0500 wake-up call. We're now approaching New Britannia and should be in orbit in fifteen minutes."

Kirk then remembered that they were supposed to beam down to the Torgison ranch in another hour. The Terran colony planet's time was three hours ahead of ship's time, so Kirk had taken the precaution of ordering a wake-up call to make sure they would be on time to greet Brian Torgison, the head of the cattle breeders who had urgently requested assistance from the closest Federation vessel in the vicinity. "Thanks, Uhura. I'll be in the transporter room by 0600. Better start waking everybody else up."

"Yes, sir." Uhura smiled before she signed off.

Kirk went back behind the privacy screen which separated his office area from his sleeping area. He found the bedside lamp lit and Spock wide awake, lying in bed with the covers pulled up to his chin. "Good morning, sleepyhead!" Kirk greeted him playfully.

Spock gave him a smile before leaning over the side of the bed to retrieve his clothes, keeping the covers well wrapped around him. Seeing this, Kirk commented, "Isn't this display of modesty a bit illogical, in front of someone you've been intimate with for the past six months?"

"Six point two months," Spock corrected him automatically. As he pulled his underwear on beneath the covers, he added: "It isn't modesty that compels me to keep myself covered in front of you, as much as your fondness for keeping it so cold in here."

"What do you mean cold? It's a constant seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit!"

"For me, that is cold," Spock stated positively. "You forget that I am accustomed to a warmer climate. For me, a temperature of sixty degrees Fahrenheit is positively chilly, while one of ninety degrees is comfortably warm."

"If I kept it as hot in here as you keep your cabin, I wouldn't have the strength to screw."

Spock blushed olive-green at the playful vulgarity. "Really, Jim!" he murmured.

"Really, Spock!" Kirk mocked him affectionately as he sat on the foot of the bed. "Seriously, I've noticed that you never let me see you completely naked. We always make love with the lights out. When we shower together in the gym after working out, you always keep your back turned. And the one time I tried to join you in the shower up here, you practically threw me out. I got the distinct impression that I shocked you."

Spock suddenly became very busy pulling his boots on. "I was merely surprised by your unexpected arrival," he muttered.

"So surprised that you threatened to give me a neck pinch if I ever did it again. Come on, Spock! I've got nothing against modesty, but I really think you're overdoing it."

By this time, Spock was half-dressed. He allowed the covers to slip off his shoulders as he sat staring down at the highly polished toes of his boots. His shirt was draped across his lap, the gold commander's stripes on one sleeve gleaming in the dim light of the lamp. "You don't understand," he said awkwardly. "I was raised more conservatively than you were, and modesty is considered one of the seven prime virtues among Vulcans..."

"Even in front of your bondmate?" Kirk reached over to touch one bare shoulder, laying his warm hand lovingly on the even warmer skin. "Spock, I love you. You've said you love me. There shouldn't be anything we can't do together. Why won't you let me see you naked?"

"After six point two months as my bondmate, you should be familiar with every inch of my body by this time." There was a note of bitter sarcasm in Spock's deep voice as he continued to stare at his boots.

"Yes, but I would enjoy seeing it with the lights on for a change." Kirk gave his bondmate's shoulder a playful squeeze and was surprised to feel him flinch.

"I do not enjoy the sight of my own body," Spock confessed. "When I was a child, I was made to feel ashamed of myself for even existing. I was teased and taunted by my peers whenever I stripped for exercise or sports. They took pains to point out every little difference between my body and theirs, reminding me of my mixed blood until I became convinced that I was, indeed, the freak of nature they kept telling me I was. Logically, I know this to be untrue. But deep down, the human half of my nature, which I have had to suppress in order to pass as a Vulcan, keeps telling me that I am a monster, something that should never have been born. It also makes me feel ashamed of consorting with you, a full-blooded human who enjoys his sexuality without shame. I keep thinking you deserve a better bondmate than one such as I."

"Spock, you have nothing to be ashamed of," Kirk told him earnestly. "You're not a freak or a monster, you're just a product of a mixed marriage between two different races of humanity. I admit that I only lay with you at first because you were my dearest friend, and I wanted to help you in your hour of need. But afterwards, when I realized that I loved you, I wanted to be your bondmate so I could go on making love to you."

Spock looked at him with such love and gratitude that Kirk had to move a little bit closer to him. "When you found me in my cabin in the grip of pon farr," Spock murmured, "a week after that disgraceful duel on Vulcan, I thought you were only lying with me out of sympathy. I was still so ashamed of that incident, I wouldn't have blamed you if you had allowed me to die that day."

"How could I?" Kirk asked him incredulously. "You were burning with blood fever and had no mate to cool you. I didn't want to lose you, so I offered myself as a mate. It seemed a small price to pay to keep my friend alive. But you didn't make it seem like a sacrifice. You were so kind to me, handling me so gently, making sure I was satisfied before you were--even in the midst of your own need, you took the time to calm my fears and help me enjoy it. I know how difficult it is for a Vulcan to remain in control during pon farr. I was expecting you to be rough with me. The fact that you weren't is part of what made me love you."

Spock took him in his arms and held him close. Kirk nestled against him, enjoying the warmth of his body and the feel of his strong arms wrapped around him, the manly smell of him. There was no need for words between them, he could feel Spock's love for him through their bond, and knew that Spock could feel his love for him as well. He wished there was enough time for him to show Spock just how much he loved him. Spock felt his quickening desire through the bond and released him, gently pushing him away. "We are due down on New Britannia in forty-three point five minutes," Spock reminded him.

Kirk sighed. "Okay, let's take care of business." Both rose and headed for the adjoining bathroom between their cabins for their usual morning routine. Kirk always took a wet shower while Spock used the sonic booth, which was faster. Afterwards, he would retire to his own cabin to put on a fresh uniform, while Kirk went back to his cabin to do the same. Being so modest, Spock always wore his uniform trousers to the bathroom, waiting until Kirk was in the shower before depositing last night's clothing in the laundry chute. Before stepping into the shower stall today, Kirk caught his bondmate's arm.

"Have dinner with me in my cabin tonight?" Spock nodded. Kirk smiled and squeezed his arm. "Good. I want to discuss this modesty thing of yours at greater length. There's no reason why you should be ashamed to go naked in front of me after all this time."

"I agree it is illogical," Spock said, beginning to blush again. "But it is the way I am, Jim. I cannot change the habits of a lifetime overnight, even for you."

"I don't expect you to. But you can make a start tonight, can't you?" Kirk coaxed him.

"I can try, for your sake."

"Good. That's all I'll ask of you to begin with. Just that you try." He gave him a quick kiss before going into the shower stall. As soon as the door was shut behind him, Spock deposited his used shirt in the chute and began stripping the rest of his clothing off.

II

At 0900 hours New Britannia time, the ENTERPRISE landing party--consisting of Captain Kirk, First Officer Spock, Ship's Surgeon Doctor McCoy and his head nurse, Christine Chapel--beamed down to the region of Victoria. They were greeted upon their arrival by Brian Torgison, head of the cattle ranchers in Victoria. It was a remote rural area, ideal for raising cattle; lush, green countryside with plenty of water and few predators. After treating the landing party to a lavish breakfast at his ranch, the Lazy Susan (named in honor of his wife, who helped him found it), the big, blond Torgison led them out to the corral to show them what the problem was.

"Y'see, Captain, how healthy the beasties are out here?" Torgison pointed to the calves frolicking in the field beneath the high-voltage wire fence, their mothers grazing placidly or chewing their cuds beneath strategically planted Terran oak trees or the native rubberferns, which always grew near fresh water.

"Yes, it looks like you've got some fine stock, Mr. Torgison," Kirk agreed. "Terran Guernsey crossed with Darkovan Chervain, isn't it?"

"Aye, that's what I started with." Torgison, of Swedish descent, had been a native of Old Australia before emigrating from Earth to take part in the great experiment sponsored by the Britannia Commonwealth, formerly the United Kingdom of Great Britain, which was to start a new colony on this world for the purpose of relieving overpopulation throughout the Commonwealth's Terran possessions. All the settlers on New Britannia were farmers and animal breeders who had been awarded government grants to come up with ways of feeding large numbers of people as economically as possible. So far, the most progress had been made by the farmers; two years into the great experiment, they had already come up with a new potato that grew bigger and faster than the Terran variety, a new kind of rice that didn't require as much water to grow, and a soybean with a fleshy consistency that made texturized vegetable protein more meatlike, therefore more appealing. But Torgison and the rest of the cattle breeders were working on a new breed of cattle that was more like the free-range beef being raised back on Earth.

"I'll be damned if those critters don't look more like deer than cows," McCoy remarked, studying Torgison's cattle from beside the rancher.

"They do, don't they?" Torgison said, grinning proudly. "That's no accident, Doc. Anybody can raise good beef steers. But not many can raise meat for the gourmet market that's within the price range of a working man's pocket too."

"You mean you're trying to breed domesticated venison?" McCoy took another look at the strange cattle; they looked like small, red deer with short, pronged antlers, well-developed hindquarters and long, muscular legs that managed to support their bulk gracefully.

"Yep, bred some of me original stock to one of the native beasties. Lovely critters, kind of like African gazelles or veldbeasts. Great stamina, very graceful, strong and independent, but easily tamed once you get their trust. My cattle were good milk-givers, but kinda sluggish. A bit too tame, if you know what I mean. They hadda be prodded out of the barn every morning and shooed back in every night. I even lost a few to pneumonia because they literally didn't have the sense to come in out of the rain. And when it rains here, it pours! The stupid bloody things would be standing out here with their heads up and their mouths open wide to drink the rainwater. The ones who didn't get sick ended up drowning themselves."

"They sound remarkably stupid," Spock remarked, "even for cattle."

"Tell me about it! Them critters were so stupid, it's a wonder any of 'em survived infancy. The cows used to forget their babies were nursing and lie down right on top of 'em. A lot of calves got smothered that way."

"How horrible!" exclaimed Nurse Chapel.

"Aye, me missus felt the same way. She and the kids used to bottle-feed the orphans whose mothers drowned themselves in the rain. In fact, it was her idea to try crossing the silly creatures with one of the New Britannia beasties, after our kids made a pet of an orphan calf they found. The beastie was male, so soon as it looked old enough to breed, I introduced it to three of me cows." Torgison chuckled. "Ol' Rusty didn't waste any time. He got all three of 'em pregnant and all three dropped a healthy bull calf. They had their mother's looks and placid nature, but a healthy share of their father's good sense. You didn't have to call any of 'em twice, they always came running at the sound of their names. And they not only had the sense to come in out of the rain, they could even smell it coming and run for cover before the skies opened up. The calves they bred were as smart as they were. Pretty soon I was loaning out Rusty and his sons to every cattleman in the region."

"So all the cattle in these parts have the same parent stock?" asked Kirk.

"That might cause problems later," Spock pointed out. "The undesirable traits of stupidity and passivity might resurface as a result of inbreeding."

"No fear of that, Mr. Spock. Me and the lads managed to catch a few more specimens of New Britannia stock and hand tame 'em the same way me kids tamed Rusty. We keep exact records of whose cows were served by which bull, to avoid that inbreeding you mentioned. Of course, a bit of inbreeding is necessary when you're starting a new breed, but I don't like to overdo it meself. It thins the blood and makes for nervy, temperamental stock."

Spock nodded in agreement. "Indeed. It is always well to inject fresh blood into a species one is trying to improve, lest the undesirable traits one is trying to breed out should reappear in succeeding generations."

"I couldn't agree with you more. This here is the seventh generation of New Britannian cattle." Torgison waved his big hand at the handsome creatures roaming freely behind the fence. "But if you fellas don't help me, it may well be the last generation."

"What seems to be the problem?" asked McCoy. "All these animals look healthy enough."

"They're just the uninfected ones. The sick ones I've confined to the barn, in a special quarantine section behind a stasis force field."

"That bad, huh? Well, let's have a look at 'em."

Inside the barn, two of Torgison's men were kneeling beside a yearling calf that lay stretched out in the straw. As Torgison and the landing party approached the stall, one of the men looked up and said, "I'm afraid we've lost another one, Brian."

"Damn!" Torgison said in disgust, staring resentfully at the dead animal behind the transparent force field. "Which one?"

"One of the pet calves, Susie Q."

"Uh-oh! That's me little girl's favorite," Torgison told Kirk. "She's gonna be real upset."

"I'm upset, too. This makes the tenth one this week." The man who had spoken to Torgison brushed his long, blond hair out of his eyes as he leaned back on his heels and sighed. He looked very young and earnest, but managed to maintain a professional air despite the casual way he was dressed. Like Torgison and the man kneeling opposite, he wore blue denim overalls and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and sturdy, high-topped boots with metallic toecaps. His long, sensitive-looking white hands reminded Kirk of Doctor McCoy's skilled surgeon's hands. His displeasure at losing the calf was just like McCoy's attitude when he lost a patient. Kirk guessed that he was probably a veterinarian, as dedicated to his four-legged charges as McCoy was to his two-legged patients.

Torgison confirmed his guess a moment later. "This here's Doctor Miles Cafferty, me resident animal doctor. He's been with me since we started this breeding project. I keep telling him if we lose any more beasties, I'm gonna have to put him to sleep, but the damned fool keeps losing 'em anyway. 'Smatter, Miles, losing your touch?" Despite his rough teasing, everyone could see that he was really quite fond of the younger man.

"No, I'm losing my patients," Cafferty punned. "More and more of 'em every day. And I don't like it." He studied the people in Starfleet uniform who had come in with his boss. "Are you folks from the ENTERPRISE? If so, I hope that at least one of you is a zoologist."

"Will an old country doc do?" McCoy asked with a grin. "I'm Doctor Leonard McCoy, ship's surgeon. This here's our captain, James Kirk, our first officer and science officer, Mr. Spock, and my head nurse, Christine Chapel."

Cafferty's serious expression lightened a little. "You sound like you're from down home, Doc," he said to McCoy in an unmistakable Southern drawl. "Good to hear another Southerner after listening to all these Aussies for the last two years. Their halfassed English accents make me sick. Y'all can't understand half of what they're saying, and what you do understand don't make no sense."

"Get outta here, you bloody Yank!" growled Torgison. "Is that the thanks I get for hiring you straight out of vet's school?"

"You were just too cheap to hire an experienced vet," Cafferty retorted good-naturedly. "And I'm not a Yank, I'm a Reb! After two years, you still can't tell the difference?"

"All you people from the States are Yanks, as far as I'm concerned. You all look alike to me." Torgison looked over the landing party and blushed a little when he saw Spock. "You obviously aren't from the States," he said sheepishly.

"Obviously," Spock said dryly.

"He does tend to stand out in a crowd, doesn't he?" Kirk remarked, smiling at Spock. Meeting his eyes, he sent him a message of love through their bond, a wave of affection that made Spock raise one eyebrow with the intensity of his feelings.

"If you'll turn off the force field, Mr. Torgison," McCoy now told him, "we can get started. Spock?" McCoy looked up to see his captain and his first officer still staring intently at each other. Raising his voice slightly he said, "Spock, I'm gonna need your help here."

Spock broke eye contact with the captain and managed to reply without a trace of resentment in his voice. "Of course, Doctor." Kirk blinked as he felt their mental contact gently broken off. A bit dazed, he managed to step out of Spock's way in time to let him pass through the doorway into the quarantine stall. As Spock passed, he steadied him with a gentle touch on one arm. "Excuse me, Captain," he murmured aloud, while saying silently through their bond, I'm sorry, T'hy'la.

That's okay. Carry on, Kirk told him. He sat down on a bale of hay in a corner to get his bearings. Nurse Chapel paused before joining McCoy and Spock, looking worriedly at the captain.

"Are you all right, sir?" Chapel asked him.

"Oh, sure. I'm just a little tired." Kirk faked a convincing yawn. "Had to get up pretty early this morning, you know." He smiled reassuringly at her. "I'll just sit here and kibitz while the rest of you work."

Chapel smiled back before she joined the others by the dead calf. Kirk didn't miss the lingering looks she kept giving Spock. Poor woman still doesn't know about us. I wonder if we should tell her? He knew that Spock was too much of a gentleman to confront her directly. Ever since the time the ENTERPRISE was infected by an alien virus that forced hidden feelings to the surface, Spock had been very self-conscious around Nurse Chapel, knowing how she felt about him and knowing he could never respond to her in the way she desired. It had been difficult enough for him to confront his feelings about Kirk, when they were alone together trying to help each other overcome their inner fears long enough to prevent the ENTERPRISE from crashing into the dying planet they were orbiting. Maybe that was why he was so modest in private, now that they were bonded. Lingering shame over daring to feel anything other than loyalty to his captain?

Kirk watched him working over the dead animal, collecting a sample of hair from the body, asking for samples of fecal matter and about diet, grazing habits, and all the bodies of water from which the herd drank daily. He was proud of his bondmate's brilliant mind. If anybody can figure out what's killing the cattle, he can. He knew how important it was for Torgison to find out what was killing his herd; the government grant he'd been given would have to be repaid in full if tangible results weren't produced within two standard Terran years. Federation inspectors would be coming to New Britannia in two weeks to report on the progress the settlers were making. If Torgison didn't have enough healthy specimens of the new breed of cattle ready for marketing, the inspectors would have no choice but to recommend reimbursement of the government monies. A man with a growing family could ill afford to pay back such a sum. Thinking of Mrs. Torgison and the four children back at the house, Kirk hoped that Spock would be able to help, for their sakes.

When Spock had all his samples, he and the others took a brief tour of the barn to examine the rest of the sick cattle. There were thirty head; most of them were in the terminal stage of the mysterious disease, lying on their sides and breathing heavily. The rest were feverish and apathetic, with glazed eyes and tongues hanging out, constantly lapping at the water bottles in their stalls. Their leg joints were so swollen they could hardly stand. And those who had sunlight shining into their stalls were huddled in back in the shady area, their eyes closed against the bright light.

McCoy petted a pretty chestnut-colored heifer, who managed to nudge him affectionately with a little black nose that would normally be cold and wet, but was now hot and dry. "It looks like some kinda flu to me," he commented to Cafferty as he held his tricorder over the heifer's head, recording her symptoms. "Do the cows dry up when they get it?"

"Yep," said Cafferty. "We've got a lot of hungry, unhappy calves in the pen outside. The kids bottle-feed them, but they miss their mamas."

"Don't the calves also become sick when their mothers are stricken?" asked Spock.

"Not all of 'em," said Cafferty. "About half of 'em remain healthy, while the other half fall sick at the same time as their mothers. We still don't know why."

"Maybe it's something in the cows' milk?" McCoy suggested.

"If it were, then the humans who drank the milk would also be ill," Spock said. "Have any of Torgison's family or the ranch personnel been affected?"

"No, Brian's kids have all been drinking the milk and they're fine. We cut 'em off soon as the cattle started dying, just in case. Now the milk is triple pasteurized, to make sure the kids don't get sick from drinking it. But we still don't know what's causing this fever."

"I will need samples of the milk, and your feed and bedding, as well as soil from your pastures. Doctor McCoy, may I suggest you take blood samples from the people who tend the cattle, as well as from the stricken animals?"

"I'm way ahead of you, Spock. We can't rule out the possibility that this may be a cross-species virus, spread from people to animals, or vice-versa."

"I thought of that already," Cafferty told them. "And I checked out every human and critter on this spread. But I still didn't find anything." He sounded miffed at McCoy and Spock for doubting his professionalism.

"Take it easy, son," McCoy told him soothingly. "I'm sure you've done all you could. But it never hurts to double-check. And our science and medical labs on the ENTERPRISE are a lot better equipped than whatever you may have down here. We'll send samples of everything to both labs and see what we come up with."

Cafferty sighed. "Okay, you do that, Doc. I'm sorry I flew off the handle, but I'm getting mighty tired of seeing my patients drop dead on me."

"I know the feeling, son. At least you don't have to break the news to any grieving next of kin."

"Except for little Roseanne Torgison. That there calf was her favorite." Cafferty nodded toward the dead animal.

"We will also need specimens for dissection," Spock told him. "May we take this carcass back up to the ship? A necropsy may prove illuminating."

"I don't see why you shouldn't. Hope you find more than I did." Cafferty went to inform his boss while Spock and McCoy hoisted the dead calf between them to carry it outside.

III

Later that night, Spock dragged himself around his quarters as he prepared to go to dinner in the captain's cabin. He had spent the better part of the day dissecting the dead calf and examining its internal organs, along with four of his lab assistants and two biologists. He couldn't remember ever being so tired before. While it was logical to be fatigued after putting in a full day's work, his Vulcan constitution had never failed to snap back at the end of the day, particularly when he had something pleasant to look forward to. Like dinner with Jim. And afterwards. Just thinking about what his bondmate liked to do after dinner was enough to bring a smile to his face. He quickened his pace, trying to get everything stowed away neatly so he would be in time for dinner. It was 1830 hours; Jim was expecting him at 1900 and Spock was always punctual.

His throat felt so dry. Spock poured himself another glass of water from the carafe on his desk and drank it all. The carafe was nearly empty now. This was the third glass he'd drunk since getting back from the lab. Now he was also becoming aware of a headache. Only a mild one; he could keep the pain at bay with mind control. It is probably a tension headache incurred by the stress of work, he told himself. It will surely go away after I have sufficiently relaxed in Jim's company. He wondered how being in Jim's company could be so relaxing and yet so stimulating at the same time. As he was about to leave, he saw one of his styluses lying on the floor by the desk. When he bent over to pick it up, he felt a wave of dizziness. Grasping the edge of the desk, he pulled himself up slowly, breathing deeply until the dizziness passed. He felt pain in his hand, the one that was holding onto the desk. When he looked down at it, he saw that the joints of his fingers were swollen.

Why is my hand so sore? What is wrong with my fingers? He rubbed them with his other hand and saw that the joints of that one were also swollen. And his headache was getting worse. Spock rubbed his temples in an effort to ease the pain, but it wouldn't go away. Perhaps if I lay down for a few minutes...? His bed looked very inviting through the opening in the privacy screen. Had he been expecting Jim, he would have turned down the covers and put some incense in the bowl of the firepot beast on the table beside it. The heavy, black cast-iron creature was a stylized rendition of the ancient fire god which adorned his family's heraldic crest. It always held a few burning coals, symbolizing the hearth of home to all Vulcans who traveled far from their home world. Spock was grateful for the firepot's glow as he lowered the cabin's reddish interior lighting. For some reason, the light seemed much too bright tonight. It hurt his eyes. Spock decided that he would lie down, just for a few minutes.

I have plenty of time to meet Jim. I'll just have a brief nap before I go to dinner. I doubt if I could eat much tonight anyway. But it will still feel so good to be with Jim. Just to lie in his arms and let him run his cool fingers over my face, through my hair. He'll make the pain go away. He always does, my Jim. My Jim... He thought longingly of his bondmate before feeling another wave of dizziness come over him. Lying down on the bed, he closed his eyes and was soon fast asleep.

***

What's taking him so long? Captain Kirk waited impatiently for his bondmate to join him for dinner. It was already 1930 hours; it wasn't like Spock to be so late. Maybe he got held up in the lab? Kirk buzzed the science lab and asked if Spock was there. Upon being told he left an hour ago, he thanked the technician, broke the connection and buzzed Spock's quarters.

"Spock, are you in there? It's Jim." He heard nothing, saw nothing on the monitor screen. "Spock, are you in there?" he repeated. Still no answer.

Where could he be? Kirk fretted. Now don't get excited, Jimbo. Just relax and try to locate him through your bond. Concentrate. He sat down at the table for two full of covered dishes that had been set up by a couple of his yeomen. Closing his eyes, he thought of Spock and concentrated, reaching out to him mentally, trying to catch a trace of his aura. He visualized the science lab in his mind and sent out a psychic probe, searching every corner of it, but couldn't find Spock anywhere. He pictured other parts of the ship where Spock would be most likely to go and cast his mind here and there, sending out a mental summons to his bondmate. Spock, Spock, are you out there? He wasn't in the Rec Room, the Officer's Mess, Engineering or Sickbay. So Kirk cast his mind towards the first officer's quarters. When he did, he felt Spock's presence there, saw his aura glowing in the darkness behind his eyelids. Bingo!

He called to Spock silently, asking him what was taking him so long. When he got no answer, he probed a little deeper and felt Spock's mind on a lower level of consciousness than his. That could only mean he was asleep. He must really be tired. Well, I'll soon wake him up. He rose from the table and headed for the bathroom door.

***

Spock lay on his bed in such a deep, feverish sleep he didn't hear the hailing whistle from his computer. He also didn't hear his bondmate's voice calling him over the comm link. When Kirk tried to reach him mentally, his level of consciousness had already slipped below that of a waking person in good health. Spock's health was becoming worse by the minute.

When Kirk came through the door of their adjoining bathroom, he called to him. "Spock?" The chair behind the desk was empty, so he hadn't fallen asleep while hard at work on something. Not that Spock was likely to do such a thing; he would say it was illogical to fall asleep at one's desk when there was a perfectly good bed nearby that would serve the purpose much better. Seeing a pair of booted feet on the bed through the opening in the privacy screen, Kirk headed for Spock's sleeping alcove, where he found his bondmate stretched out on the bed.

"There you are, sleepyhead!" Kirk said lovingly. "Don't you know I've been waiting for you?" Getting no answer, he moved closer to the bed. "Come on, Spock, rise and shine. Time for dinner."

Spock didn't move or speak. Kirk reached out to shake him awake. The moment he touched his shoulder, he felt how much hotter he was than usual. The heat of Spock's fevered body could be felt right through his clothing. "Spock?" Kirk rested his hand on Spock's forehead. "My God, you're burning up!" he exclaimed. "Spock, are you all right? Can you hear me? Spock!" He shook him harder, but got no answer other than a brief moan. By the dim glow of the firepot beast, he could see that Spock's face was flushed green with fever.

Rushing to the desk, he hit the comm link. "Sickbay, this is the captain! Send Doctor McCoy immediately to Mr. Spock's cabin! He's unconscious and has a very high fever."

A worried-looking Nurse Chapel appeared on the monitor screen and said, "Doctor McCoy's very busy right now, sir. Several of Mr. Spock's science staff have also fallen ill. Four of them were able to walk to Sickbay, two had to be brought in after they collapsed."

"It sounds like something's going around," Kirk commented grimly.

"Doctor McCoy thinks so too, sir. I'll tell him about Mr. Spock as soon as he gets back from the Quarantine Ward."

"Quarantine? Is it that bad?"

"I'm afraid so, sir." Chapel hesitated before adding, "Captain, I hate to say this, but until the doctor gets there, you'd better keep away from Mr. Spock. He may be contagious."

"I'm staying here until the doctor comes," Kirk informed him determinedly. "Somebody's got to look after him. Kirk out." He snapped off the screen irritably. The nerve of that woman, telling me to keep away from Spock! He's always been there when I needed him, and nothing's going to keep me away from him now that he needs me! He went to the bathroom, soaked a washcloth in cold water, folded it, then came back and laid it gently across Spock's forehead.

"I'm here,T'hy'la," he said softly as he laid the cold compress on Spock's forehead. "I'm right here with you. Can you hear me?" Spock let out a low moan and stirred restlessly, but didn't open his eyes. "It's okay, love," Kirk told him reassuringly. "I'm right here by your side." He sat down beside him and took his hand, feeling for the pulse in the sinewy wrist. It was fast, too fast for a Vulcan. His skin, which was always hotter than Kirk's (making it very pleasant for Kirk to lay beside him at night), was now hotter than usual, with a pale olive flush. As Kirk stroked his hand, he saw how swollen the joints were. That must hurt, he thought, lifting Spock's hot hand to his lips and kissing it. As he rested his cheek against it, the words of the Terran marriage vow started running through his head: "For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part". He and Spock hadn't used such words to seal their bond, but the simple, traditional words kept haunting him as he sat by his sick bondmate's side, holding his fevered hand.

By the time McCoy arrived, Kirk had changed the cold compress on Spock's head twice. He'd moistened his bondmate's dry lips with the wet washcloth too, as well as squeezing a few drops of water between the parched lips. But the Vulcan never stirred once.

McCoy dropped his medkit by the bedside and pulled out his medical tricorder, tersely ordering the captain to "Step aside, Jim." He ran the scanner over Spock's head and upper body while Kirk stood against the wall on the opposite side of the bed, watching him. Examining the readings on the instrument's scales, McCoy muttered, "Just as I thought." He put it down and picked up one of Spock's hands, examining the swollen joints. When he carefully manipulated Spock's fingers, the Vulcan let out a moan of pain and tried to snatch his hand out of McCoy's grasp, but was unable to.

"What are you doing?" Kirk demanded. "Don't hurt him!"

"I'm trying not to." McCoy bent Spock's arm back at the elbow and got a more violent response. Spock cried out loud and pushed the doctor away. McCoy nearly fell off the edge of the bed, but was able to regain his balance as soon as Spock lost his grip. As Spock's arm fell weakly to his side, McCoy remarked, "Now I know he's sick. Normally he'd be strong enough to shove me right off the bed."

"Bones, what's wrong with him?" Kirk pleaded.

"You were down on the surface with the rest of us this morning. Don't you recognize the symptoms? Fever, swollen joints, intense pain. I'll bet he's been drinking a lot of water too, hasn't he?"

"Yes, the carafe on his desk was almost empty when I got here. I've been putting cold compresses on him and squeezing drops of water into his mouth."

"Well, at least you made him comfortable. I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do except put him in quarantine with the rest of his staff."

"But why? This can't be the same fever Torgison's cattle have!

"Then how come Spock and every other person who's been in contact with that dead calf we brought back is sick?"

"But you're not!" Kirk pointed out. "You helped him carry the dead calf outside to be transported!"

"Yeah, and I'll probably be down with the same damn thing within the next twenty-four hours!" McCoy said harshly. "I don't know how long an incubation period this disease has, but it affects different people in different ways. Four Science personnel walked into Sickbay after dinner complaining of headaches, sore throats, and fevers. One collapsed in the corridor on his way back to his cabin; Security found him and notified us. And one young woman was so weak, she couldn't even leave her cabin to go to dinner. She was able to call us before she passed out. We found her sitting at her desk with her head in her arms. She's got it worse than the others; her fever's so high, she's starting to convulse."

"Will that happen to Spock too?"

"Probably. I know Vulcans can run very high fevers without it affecting their brains, but he's half human and subject to many of our physical frailties." McCoy got out his hypospray and injected Spock with an antibiotic. "It didn't have much effect on the others," he admitted, "but at least it kept the fever from getting any higher." He packed up his medikit, walked out of the sleeping alcove into the office area and turned up the lights. "Now you get out here, Jim, so I can examine you."

"But Bones, I feel fine," the captain protested.

"I'll be the judge of that!" McCoy examined him thoroughly, even getting out an old-fashioned tongue depressor and checking his throat for redness. "Looks okay so far," McCoy told him grudgingly. "But I'm giving you and me the same antibiotic I gave Spock, just in case." After injecting Kirk and himself, he took him by the shoulders and looked into his face earnestly. "Jim, I hate having to ask you this. You know I respect your privacy and Spock's, especially where your relationship is concerned. But I've got to know; have you and Spock been intimate recently?"

"You mean, have we made love?" McCoy nodded. "No, not since last night."

"You're sure you haven't had any intimate contact since we got back?" McCoy persisted. "Even kissing counts."

"I'm positive! We've both been too busy today."

"Thank God!" McCoy sighed with relief. "One of the sick men spent some time alone with his fiancˇe before dinner. As I was leaving Sickbay to come here, she showed up complaining of a sore throat. I isolated her immediately. I've ordered Security to make discreet inquiries and find out who's dating who, so they can track down anybody who's had intimate contact with any of the sick people. Were you with Spock when he got sick?"

"No, we were supposed to have dinner in my cabin and he was late, so I came looking for him. I found him in bed when I got here." Kirk looked anxiously at his bondmate. "Will he be all right, Bones? This thing isn't fatal to people, is it?"

"We'll find out in the next twenty-four hours. In the meantime, I'm confining you to your quarters."

"Bones, you can't do that!"

"I already have! You, me, and everyone else who's been in contact with Spock or one of his staff members. If we're all still healthy by noon tomorrow, I'll turn us loose. But whether we get it or not, I'll have to notify Starfleet that we have an epidemic on board. It'll probably bring the Federation inspectors out here sooner to examine Torgison's cattle."

"But if you prove the cattle caused this illness, then Torgison will be ruined."

"And you and Spock might be dead!" McCoy told him bluntly. "Have you forgotten that whatever affects your bondmate can affect you as well? If he dies of this illness, you might die too!"

The thought of Spock dying was more frightening to Kirk than the prospect of his own death. "Help him, Bones!" he pleaded. "I don't care what happens to me, just help him."

"Well, I care! And so does everybody else on board! Or do you really think Scotty wants to tear himself away from his precious engines to take over your duties?" He patted Kirk on the back and told him kindly, "Go back to your cabin now, Jim. I'll call a stretcher to take Spock down to Sickbay. You just stay put until I've had a chance to look you over again tomorrow."

Kirk turned to go, casting a longing look at Spock. "Can I say goodbye to Spock?"

"Okay, but make it brief. And no kissing!" McCoy warned him. He went over to the desk and pressed the comm link on the computer. While he was talking to Sickbay, Kirk was at Spock's bedside, holding his hot hand and looking down at him sadly.

Goodbye, my love, my T'hy'la Kirk said to him silently through their bond, trying to touch his unconscious mind with his love and concern. If I've got this thing too, then I'll be joining you in a little while. If not, then I'll probably be joining you anyway. Remember I'm yours forever, 'in sickness and in health, till death do us part'. Hot tears came to his eyes and fell on Spock's hand as he squeezed it.

He felt Spock squeeze his hand weakly in return and heard the Vulcan's mindvoice, like a whisper in his head. Jim, please do not weep. I could not bear to die if I thought I caused you a moment's unhappiness.

And I could not bear to live without you! Kirk sobbed aloud as he held onto his bondmate's hand. I'm warning you, Spock, if you die, I'll die! I'll use the death bond to join you!

No, Jim, you mustn't! The ship needs you.

And I need you! You must live, Spock. Live for me, I beg you!

I will try. Be strong for me, T'hy'la. Give me a reason to live.

You are my reason for living, Spock. Looking over his shoulder, Kirk saw that McCoy had moved over to the door to await the arrival of the stretcher bearers. He kissed Spock's hot, swollen hand and felt the pain Spock was feeling in his own body. He wept silently and kept on holding Spock's hand until the stretcher bearers finally came and took him away.

IV

By the next morning, everybody who had had any contact with one of the afflicted had been rounded up and confined to Sickbay. Two men who had been dating the same woman unknowingly were very upset to find out about each other. By then all those who were primarily afflicted were unconscious and not responding to outside stimuli, which was fortunate for the young woman in question, as both her suitors were now heaping verbal abuse on her head for infecting them with this disease, as well as for two-timing them, as they lay in separate bunks racked with pain and fever. Out of ten contacts made by seven people, only five of them came down with the fever. These five all admitted to having had some intimate contact with the afflicted, from kissing to actual intercourse.

McCoy, relieved to find himself and the captain among the unafflicted, released Kirk along with the others. After warning them all not to leave the ship and report to Sickbay if they began to exhibit symptoms, he began writing his report to Starfleet of an epidemic on board.

Meanwhile, Kirk went to the bridge and had Uhura contact the Lazy Susan to confront Torgison in person.

"Why didn't you tell us this disease was cross-species?" Kirk demanded. "Our science officer and six members of his staff came down with it right after performing the necropsy on that calf of yours!"

"I don't understand, Captain Kirk. None of my people have gotten the disease." Torgison stared out of the viewing screen at Kirk, looking as innocent as one of his children. "Only the cattle have gotten it and died. Maybe we've all got some kinda natural immunity."

"From what? The air? The food? Come on, Torgison, don't tell me there hasn't been any serious illness in your family or among your employees since your arrival on New Britannia!"

"Nope, we're all as healthy as horses. And right now me horses are a lot healthier than me cattle! Maybe you starship people just have lower resistance from being cooped up with nobody but each other all the time. You all ought to get out more often, take a walk in the fresh air, eat natural foods instead of that synthesized stuff."

"Spare me your lectures on healthy living, Torgison!" Kirk snapped. "I want to know why seven of my people became sick after brief contact with one of your sick calves, while all of your people are still healthy after prolonged contact with them! Just how long has this disease been affecting your stock anyway?"

"We-l-l-l-l, let me see." Torgison rolled his blue eyes upwards as he focused on some point above his head to collect his thoughts. "Was it last April? No, none of the new calves had been dropped yet. It must've started in March. It was still pretty cold outside at night, and when the beasties started getting sick, we thought they was just coming down with colds. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was March, 'cause it's June now and we've lost nearly half of the new calves as well as a third of the cows and bulls..."

"What about people?" Kirk persisted. "Are you sure none of your people started getting sick at the same time?"

"I'm positive! Come on, Kirk, don't be blaming me poor beasties for this. You know how hard it is to win a government grant. If those Federation inspectors find out my cattle have been making people sick, I'll never be able to sell 'em on Terra. Not only that, but I'll have to give back the grant. How am I gonna feed my kids, pay my employees?" He looked at Kirk so imploringly, one would have thought he was as much a victim of this mysterious disease as the crew of the ENTERPRISE.

Kirk wasn't impressed. "My ship's surgeon is already preparing to notify Starfleet of an epidemic on board. Since none of us can beam down, we'll have to remain in orbit around your planet and prevent anyone else from leaving. By force, if necessary. We'll also have to keep anybody from landing, except for the Federation inspectors who are sure to be arriving shortly after Starfleet receives Doctor McCoy's report."

"But you can't do that!" Torgison objected. "We're expecting supply ships with food and equipment!"

"You'll just have to do without supplies for the time being. Why don't you eat your sick cattle, since you seem to be immune?" Kirk broke the contact before Torgison could respond. He then made a shipside announcement over the comm link on his command chair. "Attention all personnel, this is the captain. Until further notice, nobody is to transport down to New Britannia. Several of our science personnel have contracted a fever from a biological specimen brought on board yesterday. If you or anyone you know has been in contact with the science officer or any of his staff since yesterday, report to Sickbay at once. Kirk out." Closing the link, he swung his chair around, stood up and informed Uhura, "I'm going to Sickbay to check on Spock and the others. Notify me immediately if Starfleet or the Federation contacts us."

"Yes, sir," Uhura responded, adding sympathetically, "I hope Mr. Spock will be all right."

"So do I, Lieutenant." Kirk was grateful for her concern. She was one of the few people on board who knew about him and Spock being bonded. As he headed for the turbolift he said, "Sulu, take the con. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Yes, sir." As the lift doors closed behind the captain, Sulu left the navigation station to take the command chair. But instead of sitting down, he stood staring at it warily.

"What's wrong, Sulu?" Uhura asked him.

"Uh, you don't suppose the captain's got it too? The fever, I mean?" Sulu looked a bit ashamed for asking.

"Of course not!" Uhura told him angrily. "Doctor McCoy wouldn't have let him come up here if he did! You sit down in that chair, Sulu, and stop being so silly!"

Sulu sat down in the command chair without further ado, blushing like a schoolboy at Uhura's reprimand. But some of the other crewmembers were also beginning to eye the command chair with misgiving. Even those who didn't know about Kirk and Spock being bondmates felt that the captain might be at risk, since he and the first officer were so close. While others were wondering if you could get the disease just from working next to someone, or handling something they had touched.

V

Rumor travels faster than fever on board a starship. Before 1800 hours that day, more than half the crew had reported to Sickbay. A very small number of them were hypochondriacs who always came down with the symptoms of whatever was going around. Others wanted more information about the disease or the people who had it. Worried friends were assured that the sufferers were being given the best of care. Doctor McCoy allowed some of them to visit the Quarantine Ward, after making them go through the decontamination chamber at the entrance and don protective gear before entering the ward itself.

Captain Kirk was among the first visitors. After entering the decon chamber and being bathed in ultraviolet and antiseptic rays, he put on the transparent face mask with attached air filter, a surgical gown, ultra thin latex gloves, and knee-high transparent foot coverings over his boots before emerging from the airlock into the ward. McCoy and four nurses, similarly attired, were already in there making their rounds. The two sickest patients were separated from the others inside a plastic oxygen tent in a corner. Both were in security restraints to keep them from falling out of bed while they were convulsing. The others were in sheetless waterbeds filled with cold water, attached to temperature control devices that kept the water cold, to give them relief from their fever. Spock's bed was in the corner closest to the oxygen tent. His breathing was very labored and noisy. McCoy was injecting him with a decongestant as Kirk approached.

"How is he?" Kirk asked, his voice sounding flat and metallic as a computer's as it emerged from the air filter.

"Not good," McCoy replied tersely. "He and four others have passed from guarded to serious condition. They're all having trouble breathing. Congestion seems to build up rapidly in the second stage. Those poor devils in there," he nodded towards the oxygen tent, "are in the third stage. Cafferty told me all the cattle that had it became convulsive before they finally died. So if our two critical patients survive the convulsions, there's still a chance for them to recover completely. Provided they don't choke to death on their own body fluids first," he added grimly. "Me and the nurses have been busy suctioning out the lungs of everyone in the second stage. Spock here seems to have a better grip on consciousness than the rest. That green Vulcan blood of his is giving him an unfair advantage over us poor red-blooded humans again." McCoy's filtered voice held a note of admiration for the Vulcan. "Good thing Vulcans are able to tolerate high temperatures. Just like human babies; no matter how high their fevers get, they usually sustain little or no brain damage. That's probably what's keeping him from going into the convulsive stage, too."

Spock's eyes opened and stared blankly into space before focusing on the two men at his bedside. Recognizing Kirk, he tried to speak, but could only whisper hoarsely, "Jim."

"Yes, Spock," Kirk said softly, stroking sweat-dampened black hair from his bondmate's fevered brow. "I'm right here."

Spock stared at him longingly, dark eyes bright with fever. "You are here, Jim. At last." Joy and relief were evident in his hoarsely rasped exclamation. "I thought you were here several times before, but it was only an illusion."

"Fever dreams," McCoy informed him. "A common occurrence when your fever's this high. Just don't go mistaking me for Jim now. You're not my type."

Spock eyed the doctor coldly. "I assure you, Doctor, as long as I am in full possession of my senses you need not fear for your virtue. What there is left of it," he added dryly.

Kirk laughed as McCoy glared back at Spock, looking like some blue-eyed alien monster with the oxygen mask on his face. "Why you miserable, pointy-eared bastard!" McCoy growled. "Just because I was not able to find a lover among my own crewmates doesn't mean I have to limit myself to the ship's roster in my search for a significant other."

"That is hardly an excuse for promiscuity. Unless you are hoping to find a paramour off ship who is unaware of your justly deserved reputation."

"Ah, shut up! Or I'll tell Nurse Chapel you keep asking for her in your delirium. You'll never be able to fight her off in your condition," McCoy said gleefully, imagining the lovesick Chapel hovering over Spock constantly while the sick man tried to convince her that he was not secretly in love with her.

"Come on, Bones, don't be cruel," Kirk told him. "Not unless you're willing to tell her why Spock is unavailable."

"Oh no, I'll let Spock do that. See if she believes you, Spock, when you tell her who you're really in love with. She'll probably think you're just delirious."

"And you call me unfeeling," Spock told him accusingly. "One of us will have to break the news to that poor woman sooner or later."

"Don't worry," Kirk assured him as he stroked his forehead. "I'll tell her myself if I find her trying to give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation while you're still conscious."

Spock's face was already flushed with fever, but the look he gave Kirk told him he was blushing beneath. "Jim, you are as bad as he is."

"Time for you to go, Jim," McCoy informed him. "Can't have you tiring my patient out. He needs as much rest as he can get if you want to keep him from going into the third stage."

"What'll happen if he does?" Kirk asked anxiously.

"If I do, you will surely feel it," Spock warned him. "Anything which seriously affects the physical condition of one bondmate always has a residual effect on the other."

"Another good reason for me to keep you from entering the critical stage," McCoy said. "Can't have both you and Jim flat on your backs. To say nothing of the risk of death to you both. No big loss in your case, Spock, but we really need Jim here. So if you have to go, please try not to take him with you."

"Your concern for our welfare is touching, Doctor," Spock informed him sarcastically.

"Yeah, Bones, you're all heart. Why don't you go bug your other patients for a while?" Kirk suggested.

"Okay, I know when I'm not wanted." McCoy started to turn away, then paused, looked over his shoulder and spoke softly so that only they could hear. "Don't get too mushy, guys, okay? None of these people know about you."

"We'll be careful, Bones." Kirk waved him away and stood by Spock's bedside stroking his fevered brow, wishing he didn't have the gloves on so that they could mind meld. But he didn't dare risk removing them; he couldn't afford to get sick too. For all they knew, this disease was probably transmitted through sweat and other bodily fluids as well. Looking into Spock's eyes longingly, he said to him through their bond, I wish I could kiss you.

I, too, wish it, T'hy'la. Spock gazed back at him with just as much longing. But we must take care not to infect you, as well as to prevent the scandal Doctor McCoy thinks we will cause.

Kirk rested his fingertips against the meld points on Spock's cheek. If I wasn't wearing these gloves, could I meld with you?

No, Jim. Only I can initiate a mind meld. Our bonding link allows us to communicate mind-to-mind and to contact each other across limited distances. But in order to join minds, we must be in actual physical contact with each other, skin-to-skin. Spock closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against his bondmate's hand. But it is comforting to feel you touching me, even through a layer of latex.

Kirk stroked his cheek, feeling tears coming to his eyes. He let all his love and longing flow through the link, giving Spock a mental caress that felt like a warm glow beneath the fever burning in him. Spock sighed happily as he projected a mental image of them lying in bed together, locked in a loving embrace. One of my fever dreams, he told Kirk, his mindvoice sounding languid with pleasure. A recurring one, that feels so real I keep waking up expecting to find you in my arms. But you are never there.

I felt the same way last night, Kirk told him, projecting an image of himself lying alone in the captain's cabin, covers wrapped tightly around him as he hugged the pillow, longing for his bondmate's warm, loving embrace.

I will be thinking of you, T'hy'la, while you are thinking of me. Let us see if we can touch each other's mind despite the distance between us. It is a poor substitute for physical union, but for now, it is all we have.

I'll be looking forward to when you're well enough for us to join physically. Kirk gave him another mental caress, along with an image of them making love, with Kirk lying face down beneath him, clutching the pillow and moaning as Spock thrust into him over and over again.

Spock groaned and turned his head away. Please, Jim! Don't torture me like this! It is difficult enough having you here and not being able to hold you or kiss you!

I'm sorry. He knew Spock felt his regret at having caused him pain, even unintentionally. I was only giving you something more pleasant to dream about. Good night, my love. Kirk gave him one more mental caress before moving away from the bed.

He made a quick circuit of the other patients to see how they were, not wanting it said that the captain only cared about his officers when the rest of his crew was sick. Some of them were still able to recognize him and were touchingly grateful for this show of concern from their captain, making him glad he did it. The others were so far gone, they wouldn't have recognized their own mothers. Kirk made a mental note to notify the ship's chaplains that their services would undoubtedly be needed soon.

On his way out, he paused to look back at Spock. He seemed to be resting quietly, with just an occasional twitch as he stirred restlessly. Was he dreaming or starting to have convulsions? Kirk wondered if he should tell McCoy. But the doctor was busy tending to the critical patients inside the oxygen tent. So Kirk slipped back into the airlock to repeat the decontamination process, trusting in his chief surgeon to take care of all his sick crewmembers, not just the one who was dearest to him.

VI

Later that night, while McCoy was wearily dictating his medical log to include in his report to Starfleet, he was interrupted by a hailing whistle from his comm link. Putting his log on hold, he answered the hail. "McCoy here."

Uhura's image appeared on the screen. She didn't look too happy. "Doctor, I have Mr. Torgison on the line. He wants to speak to you privately."

"Does he, now?" Some instinct warned McCoy to take precautions. "Do me a favor, will you, Uhura? Put him through, but stay on the line yourself. I want you to be a witness to whatever he has to say."

"Yes, Doctor. Shall I record as well?"

"By all means." Uhura nodded and McCoy saw her press a certain button on her console before she disappeared from the screen and Brian Torgison appeared.

"Good evenin', Doc! How're we getting on up there, eh?" he inquired cheerfully.

"Oh, just fine, Mr. Torgison," McCoy all but sneered at him. "I've got twelve people in quarantine, two of 'em in critical condition, and five of 'em practically drowning in their own body fluids. Thanks to you and your diseased cows!"

"Now, Doc, you can't be putting the blame on me poor cows. Remember you starship people ain't immune to the environment down here like we are. You could have picked up this bug from any of a thousand things down here."

"The first ones to get sick were our science officer, four of his assistants, and two biologists who assisted him in the necropsy on that dead calf. The others became sick after being in close, intimate contact with them."

"But you ain't sick, are you?" Torgison studied him closely. "And neither is Captain Kirk, I'll bet."

"So far, we're both fine," McCoy admitted. "But that's no guarantee we won't wake up tomorrow morning with all the symptoms."

Torgison leaned closer to the viewing screen on his end and whispered, "How'd you like to wake up a rich man, Doc?"

McCoy stared at the big, blond Aussie on the screen, wondering if he had heard right. "Torgison, are you offering me money?" he said slowly, enunciating each word very carefully for the benefit of Uhura.

"Now, Doc, we both know how hard it is to practice medicine in space. All these exotic alien diseases can confuse a body. Honest mistakes can be made. If you were to put down in your report to Starfleet that your people got sick from some unknown virus that had nothing to do with me cows, I'd be mighty grateful. Yessir, I'd be willing to give you a lot of credit for saving me bacon. A whole lot of credit. Or should I say credits?" Torgison winked at him and smiled.

McCoy was so mad he felt like putting his fist through the screen to wipe that smile off Torgison's face. His first instinct was to tell him to shove it. Then he thought better of it. He decided to play along and give Torgison enough rope to hang himself with. "Well now, I don't know, Torgison," he said in his laziest Southern drawl. "You know how hard it is for a doctor to live within his means. 'Specially on the wages Starfleet pays. Hell, if I was in civilian practice I could make a hell of a lot more money than I do on this flying tin can. I really don't know if you can afford my consulting fee."

"Just say the word, Doc, and you could be making as much as a civilian sawbones makes in a year of private practice," Torgison assured him.

"I hope you're taking into consideration the fact that I'm a specialist in xenopathology. And that it's my professional reputation that'll be on the line if Starfleet finds out that I fudged on an official report."

"Oh, I understand, Doc. And I'm hoping you'll understand that I'd much rather pay you once than have to pay the Britannia Commonwealth back every month for the rest of me bloody life. That's how deep I'm into them for the grant they gave me to develop these beasties. I'm not giving that up without a fight. Not with a wife and four kids to feed, as well as fifty thousand head of cattle."

"I think we both understand each other very well, Mr. Torgison. Why don't you come aboard tomorrow morning, bright and early, before the captain wakes up? Say 0600?" McCoy figured he could get Kirk up that early for a matter this important.

"Be happy to, Doc. See you then!" Torgison signed off a happy man. As soon as he disappeared from the screen, Uhura came back on.

"Did you get all that, Uhura?" McCoy asked her.

"I certainly did, sir." She looked as disgusted as he felt. "Shall I notify Security to be there at 0600?"

"Yep. And I'll notify the captain, as soon as I finish my medical log. He's sure 'nuff gonna love this!"

VII

Captain Kirk was at his usual table in the Officer's Mess that evening, trying to do justice to his steak. But it seemed to have lost its appeal. After six point two months as a Vulcan's bondmate, he was losing his taste for meat.

"What's the matter, Captain? Isn't yer steak cooked enough?" Scott asked. He was making more progress with his steak and kidney pie.

"No, the steak's fine, Scotty. I just don't have much of an appetite." Kirk sighed as he laid down his knife and fork, staring regretfully at the nicely browned hunk of medium-rare steak he'd just cut into. "I thought I'd indulge myself tonight, since Spock isn't eating with us. You know I never eat meat in front of him. But it looks as if I can't eat meat without him here either."

Scott gave him a shrewd look. "It looks to me like yer missin' our Mr. Spock more than yer willin' to admit. You know, it just ain't the same without him here. He's always a proper gentleman, eve when he's bickerin' with the doctor and all." Scott was another member of the small circle of friends who knew about their relationship. "I dinna get a chance to see him today. How is he?"

"Just holding his own. He's got it bad, Scotty," a worried Captain Kirk confided in his chief engineer. "He's already entered the second stage, where he's having trouble breathing. If he goes into the third stage and starts having convulsions, it could be fatal." The troubled look on Kirk's face said it all.

"Now don't you be frettin' yerself, Jim," Scott told him soothingly. "Leave it to Doctor McCoy to pull our Spock through. Why, I've seen him hurt worse than this many a time before and McCoy has always pulled him through."

"Those were just physical injuries, Scotty. This is a new kind of illness. We're not even sure how it will affect humans, let alone Vulcans. Oh, I know Spock's had fevers before and survived. His mother told me he used to get a lot of them when he was a little boy. They seem to be a common childhood ailment among Vulcans. But he's never had one high enough to bring on convulsions before, and I'm afraid of what that's going to do to him."

"It'll take more than a few convulsions to shake the wits out of our Spock's head," Scott told him confidently. "Tell you what, Jim, why don't you come to me cabin after dinner and wash down that steak with some good scotch? I've got a bottle of twelve-year-old Johnny Walker Black that'll go down smooth as silk. Help you forget yer worries."

"I'm sure it will, Scotty. Let me try to get some more food in my stomach first." Kirk cut himself a piece of steak. While he was doing so, Uhura walked by with her dinner tray.

"Nyota, darlin'! Come join us!" Scott waved her over. "The captain needs a bit o' cheerin' up. Between my Scottish wit and yer pretty face, we'll soon make him a happy man."

"Flattery will get you anywhere, Scotty!" Uhura laughed. She came over to their table, started to sit down beside the captain, then paused uncertainly.

"Something wrong, Uhura?" Kirk asked.

"No sir, I was just wondering if you would mind if I sat here? I know Mr. Spock usually does."

Touched by her sensitivity, Kirk told her, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind, Uhura. Please sit down."

"Thank you, sir." She sat down beside him and took the cover off her dish. While she was sprinkling lemon juice on her green salad, Kirk put a piece of steak in his mouth. As he chewed it, Scotty began teasing Uhura about her "rabbit food", asking if she was imitating Spock or just trying to lose a few pounds. Uhura responded with a saucy comment about the Scotsman's eighty-six proof liquid diet. They both started laughing just as the captain began to choke.

Scott and Uhura didn't realize anything was wrong until Kirk grabbed his throat with one hand and began coughing. "Jim, what's the matter?" Scott asked him. Kirk tried to speak, but couldn't stop coughing.

"Sir, are you choking?" Uhura asked.

Kirk wasn't able to respond. He was too busy trying to get air into lungs that suddenly felt as if they were full of water. Uhura jumped out of her chair, got behind him and slapped him on the back between the shoulder blades. When nothing came out of his mouth, she pulled his chair away from the table, circled his chest with her arms, put her left hand over her right fist, placed the thumb side of her fist over the center of his breastbone and began doing the Heimlich maneuver, thrusting into his chest with quick backward thrusts.

Kirk was able to gasp between thrusts, "Stop! Please! I'm-not-choking! I-just-can't-breathe!" before he started coughing again.

Uhura stopped doing the Heimlich maneuver and slapped him between the shoulder blades again. Kirk was now leaning on his elbows against the table, pushing his plate and Uhura's out of the way as he fought to catch his breath. By now the other diners had stopped eating and were staring transfixed at the captain, who appeared to be choking to death before their eyes.

"Don't just sit there, Scotty!" Uhura yelled at him. "Call Sickbay!" Scott ran to the nearest comm link while Uhura tried to calm the captain down. "Sir, don't panic. Take deep breaths. Breathe slowly or you'll pass out. Sir, please try to breathe more slowly. Captain, please..."

Uhura's voice seemed to fade into the distance as Kirk fought to catch his breath. A red haze rose before his eyes. From somewhere far away, he thought he heard voices yelling.

"Doctor McCoy! Stat! Respiratory distress!"

"Don't just stand there, get me suction! We need suction!"

"My God, how did his lungs get so full so quickly?"

"Never mind how, just get that stuff out before he chokes on it!"

"Doctor, he's not breathing! He's not breathing!"

Beneath the other voices, he could hear Spock's mindvoice calling to him weakly. Jim... It was the last thing he heard before he hyperventilated and passed out.

Uhura caught him as he fell sideways out of his chair, laid him flat on the floor and knelt beside him. "Captain Kirk, can you hear me? Captain!" She slapped his cheeks and got no response. Tilting his head back, she put her ear to his mouth. When she heard no breathing and felt no air coming out, she knew it was time to start CPR.

But as she started to put her mouth over Kirk's, a frightened woman called to her. "Nyota, don't! He might have it!"

Uhura looked up from her unconscious captain and saw all her fellow officers regarding him as fearfully as if he had the plague. They were all standing as far away as possible, too scared to offer help for fear of being infected by the mysterious disease that had already claimed twelve of their number, and now looked as if it had infected their captain too. Uhura's dark eyes blazed with anger as she addressed the woman who had spoken. "This is our captain! How can you ask me not to help him? How can you stand there and not do anything to help him yourself?"

The woman looked ashamed and turned her head away. A man standing next to her looked embarrassed, but unwilling to do anything that might put him at risk. There was some contrite muttering about "Somebody ought to do something," but nobody offered any suggestions.

"Are none of you going to help me?" Uhura demanded. When nobody came forward, she said bitterly, "Damn you all then!" and began rescue breathing.

Scott came running back as she was doing the chest thrusts. "A med team's on the way, darlin'!" he told her. "Just keep it up till they get here! When you get too tired, I'll take over."

"Thank you, Scotty!" she gasped, careful not to lose count. She completed the cycle of fifteen thrusts and gave Kirk two more rescue breathes. She listened for returning breath, heard none and started pumping his chest again. She breathed into his lungs twice, listened for him breathing, heard nothing and began pumping his chest again. She did it over and over until her arms began to ache and her knees were sore from kneeling. Her back felt as if she were about to break in two. But she kept on breathing for her captain until he was able to breathe for himself. Just as she was about to ask Scott to take over for her, Kirk gave a gasp, coughed twice, then began breathing again.

"Thank the Lord! Ye've saved him, lass!" Scott's voice rang out joyfully in the silence. All over the room, people who had been holding their own breaths let them out again with heartfelt sighs of relief. There were spatters of applause for Uhura's bravery and some words of praise added to Scott's. She heard none of it, being too busy catching her own breath as she leaned against the chair she had been sitting in. When the medics arrived, they insisted upon taking her to Sickbay along with Kirk. Then people remembered and started moving away again. What if Uhura's act of bravery had resulted in her being infected too? Scott was muttering under his breath about "bloody cowards not fit to wear the uniform" as he and Uhura followed Kirk's stretcher out the door.

***

Kirk came to in Sickbay. Seeing the worried faces of his senior officers and closest friends gathered around his bed, he wondered what had happened. "Bones, Scotty, Uhura," he said softly, acknowledging each of them in turn. "Who's minding the store?"

"Sulu is," McCoy told him. "Seems he's the only one brave enough to sit in your chair, now that you've collapsed from mysterious causes."

"What happened, Jim?" Scott asked him worriedly. "Ye had us all that worried! We thought ye was gonna die, till little Nyota here brought ye back."

"I knew that CPR course I took would come in handy someday," Uhura said cheerfully.

"It sure did. Thanks, Uhura." Kirk sat up, rubbing the sore spot on his chest where she had pumped him. "Ouch! I never knew you were this strong, lady! Remind me never to get you mad," he told her playfully.

"Aye, she's got great hands." Scott grinned at her. "And what stamina! Have ye been workin' out with Spock, lass?"

"She'd better not be!" Kirk growled, glaring at her with mock ferocity. Uhura laughed. She knew Spock could never be tempted from his bondmate's side by the charms of a mere woman.

"Speaking of Spock, we had a mighty close call with him tonight, too," McCoy told the captain. "His lungs got so filled with fluid, he almost choked to death. He actually stopped breathing for a few minutes. But after we suctioned out the congestion and gave him air, he came to. He doesn't seem any worse. But he keeps asking for you."

Kirk's eyes got very wide. "When did this happen?" he demanded.

"I think it was about the same time you were choking on your steak in the Officer's Mess."

"But he wasn't choking, Doctor!" Uhura objected. "When I did the Heimlich maneuver, nothing came out of his mouth. He told me he just couldn't breathe, before he passed out."

"She's right, Bones. I had already swallowed my steak before I started coughing. It felt as if my lungs were full of water and I was drowning."

Now it was McCoy's turn to be wide-eyed. "Holy shit! Sorry, Uhura! How long were you unconscious, Jim?"

"I don't know. Uhura, how long was I out?"

"It seemed like ages, sir. But I remember glancing at my chronometer before I started breathing for you, and again while the medics were putting you on the stretcher. I'm pretty sure it was at least four minutes."

"Bones, how long was Spock out?"

"Exactly four point nine minutes," McCoy said slowly.

All three of Kirk's friends looked shaken. Scott shivered and said, "Och, feels like a goose just walked over me grave!"

"You think that's weird, Scotty? Listen to this!" Kirk told them about the voices he had heard just before losing consciousness.

"That's exactly what Christine and I said while we were reviving Spock!" McCoy exclaimed. "It's like you heard it through his ears!"

"I think I did, Bones." Kirk was looking pretty shaken himself by now. "I also think that if you hadn't been able to revive him, Spock and I would have both died, in spite of Uhura's efforts."

"I think the CPR helped keep you breathing until Spock began breathing again," Uhura told him. "Then you both began breathing normally, in tandem."

"Is that possible?" Scott demanded.

"Why, Scotty, haven't you ever heard of two hearts beating as one?" Kirk asked him playfully. "Apparently, Vulcan bondmates have synchronized body rhythms. Which explains why when one goes, the other usually does too."

"I'm glad it wasn't your time yet, sir," Uhura said softly.

"So am I. Thanks again, Uhura." He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.

"Oh, ho! Now I wonder what Spock would say about that?" McCoy teased.

"He'd say it was only logical to express gratitude to a charming lady in a manner consistent with her human nature." Kirk got up from the bed. "I'm going to see Spock now," he told Uhura. "Would you and Scotty do me a favor and tell anybody who asks that I choked on a piece of steak?"

"Of course, sir," she assured him. "And neither of us will mention Spock's passing out at the same time you did. Will we, Scotty?"

"Of course not! Who'd believe us? I'm still not so sure I believe it meself." Scott was still shaking his head as he followed Uhura out.

"Hold it, Jim!" McCoy took him by the arm before he could move towards Quarantine. "Before you see Spock, I'd better tell you about the patient I'm expecting tomorrow morning. Think you can be up by 0600?"

"Who in his right mind would see a doctor that early?" Kirk demanded.

"Brian Torgison. Apparently he's so desperate to sell his cattle and recoup the money used to breed them, he'll do anything to keep word of this disease from leaking out. He wants to make me a very rich man, Jim. All I have to do is leave out any mention of his cattle when I report this mysterious illness to Starfleet."

"Why, you old quack!" Kirk said with mock indignation. "You were offered a bribe and you didn't cut me in? Damn it, what's the use of being captain if I don't get my share?"

"Oh, you'll get yours someday, believe me," McCoy growled. "Now, are you going to listen to my plan or not?"

"Lay on, MacDuff! Fill me in on your plans whilst we stroll to the Quarantine Ward." They left the ward arm in arm, with their heads together, whispering in a way that would have made Spock extremely anxious, if not downright jealous, had he been able to see them together.

VIII

Brian Torgison beamed up to the ENTERPRISE at the prearranged time the following morning. Lieutenant Kyle, the Transportation Officer of the day, didn't seem at all disgruntled at having to get up to activate the transporter at this ungodly hour. He greeted Torgison cordially and offered him an escort to his destination, which the Aussie accepted happily. As he followed the red-shirted Security man to Sickbay, Kyle contacted McCoy over the comm link. "He's on his way, Doctor."

"Good. Make sure you seal off the transporter room in case he makes a break for it," McCoy cautioned him. "Don't open the door until you hear me or the captain order you to, using the code words 'Typhoid Mary'. If we don't, you'll know we're being held at phaser point."

"Yes, sir, I've got it. Kyle out."

McCoy snapped off the comm link at his end. "Okay, everybody, let's take our places. Jim, you stand behind that tall cabinet near the door of my office. You should be able to hear every word from there."

"Right." Kirk went into the chief surgeon's office while McCoy addressed the three Security men.

"Garrovick, you and the boys are going to be sick for a little while. I want y'all to lie down on those beds with the covers pulled up to hide your uniforms. I'll dim the lights so you can pretend to be sleeping."

"Yes, sir." Young Ensign Garrovick grinned. "First time I was ever ordered to lie down on the job, sir."

"Enjoy it while you can, Mister. Now go to bed and try not to doze off, even if it is early. We'll need more than Captain Kirk's testimony if we're going to convict this turkey of trying to bribe a Starfleet officer."

So Garrovick and the other two Security men climbed into the diagnostic beds in a vacant ward, pulling the covers up to their chins to hide the fact that they were still in uniform instead of the blue coveralls usually worn by patients in Sickbay. McCoy dimmed the lights and left the sliding door ajar so they could eavesdrop on his conversation with Torgison.

Torgison's Security escort entered Sickbay ahead of him to announce him. "Mr. Torgison to see you, sir," the man said, winking at McCoy because he was in on the sting too.

"Thank you, Matthers. Would you wait outside, please?" The man nodded and withdrew, nodding pleasantly to Torgison as he left.

"G'day, Doc!" Torgison looked mighty chipper for someone up so early. McCoy remembered the three-hour time difference and envied him for having had his sleep out. "Are we alone?"

"Nobody here but us chickens," McCoy assured him. "And a few sick birds." He nodded casually towards the dimly-lit ward, where three sleeping figures could be seen lying abed.

"Those ain't the ones with the fever, are they?" Torgison looked a little uneasy as he eyed the 'patients' in their beds.

"No, everybody with the fever is in a sealed Quarantine Ward. Those poor fellas are all recovering from surgery. And they're still under heavy sedation, so you don't have to worry about waking 'em up."

"Well, that's a load off me mind." Torgison's cheerfulness returned. "I mean, that they can't overhear us. I ain't worried about the fever, 'cause I'm immune to it."

"Then you admit there is a fever on your ranch, being spread by your cattle?"

"Just between the two of us, Doc, I've lost a lot of me hands in the last two years. They started getting it as soon as the cattle started dropping. The missus and I dasn't even let the kids out to play on account of this damned fever. Until we discovered she and the kids was immune too."

"How?" McCoy demanded. "Was it something they ate? Is it in the air or water?"

"Near as we can figure out, the kids inherited their immunity from me and their mum. As soon as we figured that out, I had Miles make me up a batch of serum from our blood and we injected the rest of the staff with it. It stopped the fever cold."

"Did you try it on the cattle too?"

"Yep, but the serum only works on people. I was really hoping you fellas could find a cure for me beasties before the bleeding inspectors came, but since you didn't, I'll just have to go to Plan B. Don't you worry, Doc, as soon as this disease starts spreading on Earth, me and Miles will be happy to let 'em know there's a cure available. For a price, of course."

"Oh, of course." McCoy did a slow burn as he regarded the smiling Aussie, longing to wrap his hands around Torgison's neck and strangle him slowly. "Now I see why you don't want me to mention the disease in my report. You want to make a profit from the cattle and from the disease they'll spread."

"A man's got to make a living, Doc. Ain't nothin' wrong with making a little money off of other peoples misery. You doctors do it all the time." Torgison unzipped his brown leather jacket and pulled out a thick envelope. He held it out to McCoy. "There y'go, Doc. Fifty thousand credits for your trouble. And that's just the beginning. Me and Miles will need help refining the serum and making up bigger batches of it. You can be our sole distributor on Earth, for a generous cut of the profits."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Torgison. It warms the cockles of my heart to know you're so concerned for your fellow man." McCoy held out his hand for the money, smiling like Judas at the unsuspecting Torgison. As soon as he had the envelope in his hand, McCoy opened it to count the money. There it was, fifty thousand in Federation credits, all crisp, new bills. McCoy started counting them out loud, to the amusement of Torgison.

"It's all there, Doc. Y'know I wouldn't try to cheat you."

"I'm sure you wouldn't, Torgison. I was just making sure. Twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, forty..." McCoy kept thumbing the bills, expecting to see fresh ink smear his thumb any moment. "Forty-five, fifty. Yep, it's all there." McCoy took a few steps back. "Thank you, Mr. Torgison, this will be quite enough. Won't it, Captain?" he called into his office.

"Not if you're planning to cut me in," said Kirk as he came out of the office. "Good morning, Mr. Torgison," he said to the surprised Aussie. "A funny thing happened to me on my way to the Officer's Mess for breakfast. I just thought I'd stop by Sickbay to see how my first officer was doing, and lo and behold! My chief surgeon tells me you're coming aboard to offer him a bribe. Now you know that's a no-no, Mr. Torgison. So's this little scheme you have for selling the antidote to the disease along with the cause. I'm afraid you're under arrest."

"Now wait a minute, Captain, let's talk this over!" Torgison tried to bluff his way out. "We're all reasonable men, I'm sure we can come to some arrangement for profit sharing."

"No deals, Torgison." Kirk's voice became cold as ice while his eyes held Torgison in place like a tractor beam, staring at him with undisguised contempt. "Save your dirty money to make bail with, after the Federation inspectors get here and formally charge you with bribing a Starfleet officer, and attempting to transport animals proven harmful to humanoid life."

Torgison surprised them both by not making a run for it. Instead, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a handgun, a miniphaser capable of taking down a six-foot, heavyset man at a range of thirty yards. And it was set to kill. "All right! I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice!" He pointed the miniphaser at McCoy. "Hand over the envelope, Doc! Without it, you ain't got no proof I tried to bribe you."

"Don't be a fool, Torgison! Put that gun down!" Kirk's voice lost none of its steel-edged tone of command. "Do you want attempted murder added to the charges against you?"

"Attempted, my arse! D'you really think I'm gonna let either of you out of here alive? You're the only two witnesses. After you're gone, I'll take care of that ward full of fever patients. A mysterious fire in Sickbay ought to wipe out every trace of evidence. As well as that report of yours, Doc." Torgison smiled smugly. "Now no one will know about the disease until it gets a good hold on Earth. Then me and Miles will be able to sell 'em the antidote for nearly as much as we sold the cattle. And we won't have to split it with either of you."

Kirk stepped in front of McCoy to protect him. "Don't do it, Torgison! McCoy and I are not the only witnesses." He yelled, "Security! Get out here!"

Garrovick and his men came out of the ward with their own phasers drawn. They stood between Torgison and the only exit, keeping their phasers on him, daring him to make a move. "Drop it, Mister! And move away from Captain Kirk!" Garrovick ordered him.

Torgison looked over his shoulder at the Security men and swore loudly. "Son of a bitch!" He started to aim the miniphaser at them, then changed his mind and lowered it to his side. "Okay, you got me," he sighed. "Take it, Captain." He held out the miniphaser butt end first to Kirk. As Kirk reached for it, Torgison grabbed him, spun him around and pulled the shorter man up against him. Wrapping his left arm around Kirk's neck, he held the miniphaser to Kirk's head. "All right, I'm getting out of here and I'm taking the captain with me! Anyone tries to stop me, he gets it!"

"Jim!" McCoy cried as he started toward them.

"Get back, Bones!" Kirk ordered him. "Let him do what he wants to me! Just don't let him near the Quarantine Ward!"

Torgison started walking backwards, pulling Kirk along, keeping the miniphaser pressed against his right temple. Garrovick and the other two Security men were forced to let him pass, not wanting any harm to come to their captain. As Torgison inched his way toward the exit, Kirk pleaded with him. "Do whatever you want to me, just don't hurt any of them. And don't hurt the patients in Quarantine!"

"Ah, but if I don't get rid of them, how will I keep the bloody inspectors from finding out about the disease?" Torgison jabbed the weapon against Kirk's head. "Which way is Quarantine?"

"I won't tell you!" Kirk said stubbornly. "I won't let you kill helpless sick people!"

"Would you rather die instead? Which way is Quarantine?" Torgison hit him in the head with the gun butt, forcing a cry of pain from Kirk. "Talk, damn it! Where's bloody Quarantine?"

"Don't hurt him!" McCoy pleaded. "I'll take you there myself!"

"No, Bones! Don't show him the way to Quarantine!" Kirk begged.

"I have to, Jim. Move aside, boys." McCoy walked past the Security men, whose faces were full of misery at their own helplessness, and led Torgison and his hostage down the hall to the Quarantine Ward.

When they got there, Torgison took one look at the decontamination chamber and said, "Wait a minute! How do I know there ain't no Security man hiding in there?"

"Don't be stupid!" McCoy said sharply. "That's just the decontamination chamber! Everybody has to go through it before they can enter the ward."

"What's inside, then?"

"Disinfectant rays, masks, gloves, and foot coverings to keep visitors and medical personnel from getting infected."

"Well, I sure don't need any of them, 'cause I'm immune. As for your captain here, he ain't gonna be around long enough to worry about being infected. You just go on in ahead of me, Captain, in case there is somebody hiding inside. And remember, this gun's gonna be aimed at the back of your head at all times."

Kirk entered the chamber, followed closely by Torgison. McCoy watched in silent anguish, hoping Jim Kirk had one remaining ace up his sleeve to help him get out of this one.

Kirk managed to grab an air mask on his way through. That was all Torgison gave him time for. As soon as he had closed the outer door, he nudged Kirk with the gun to force him through the inner door. Kirk could feel the presence of his bondmate on the other side. He opened the door and stepped through it, looking straight ahead to avoid betraying Spock by looking in his direction. Torgison followed him in, still keeping the gun on him. He was so busy watching Kirk, he didn't see Spock pressed against the wall to the right of the door. Weakened by the fever as he was, Spock still had enough strength to grab Torgison by the neck and pinch him into unconsciousness.

Kirk smiled as he heard Torgison fall to the floor behind him. He turned around and there was Spock in his blue Sickbay coverall, a bit pale but still able to stand up straight as he regarded the unconscious Torgison at his feet. Looking up at his bondmate, he asked, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine now. How are you?"

"Weak, but improving. Once again my Vulcan blood protects me from the thousand natural shocks that human flesh is heir to." There was a hint of a smile on his stern face as he paraphrased Shakespeare, and more than a hint of affection in his eyes as he looked at Kirk.

"So you didn't enter the third stage after all." Kirk smiled behind the mask in relief. "If you're strong enough to get out of bed, you should be well enough to be discharged soon."

"I would have risen from my sickbed if I were in traction to protect you."

"Well, you better get back to bed now. I'll take out the garbage. And thanks, Spock." He added in the silence of his mind, T'hy'la.

Spock heard him through their link and said aloud, "You are welcome, Jim." He echoed the ancient term of endearment between Vulcan bondmates in his own mind, T'hy'la, followed by a mental caress that made Kirk's eyes turn dreamy with pleasure. He closed them as he savored the sensation, spreading through his body from the groin outwards, lighting up his nervous system like a million tiny flames. It made him feel almost as feverish as Spock. It passed quickly and he gave his bondmate a look of longing before bending to his task. After sticking Torgison's miniphaser in his right boot, he grabbed the unconscious man by the ankles and dragged him out of the ward.

IX

A week later, Spock was lying in bed in his own cabin, not quite asleep, but drifting pleasantly on the edge of slumber. Even though he was no longer symptomatic, McCoy still didn't consider him well enough to return to duty. For one of the few times in his life, Spock was forced to agree with him. Just walking here from Sickbay had taken every ounce of strength he possessed. The temptation to lean on his bondmate as he went had been almost overwhelming. Fortunately, his sense of propriety had prevailed. One simply did not make physical contact with one's bondmate in public, unless it was absolutely necessary. This would have been true even if Jim were female. Spock remembered his parents always being side by side in public, but never arm in arm. He knew they loved each other very much, but Vulcan propriety forbade them from demonstrating this feeling openly. It would have been most improper, even between bondmates of long standing such as they were.

Fortunately Jim had been content merely to escort him to his cabin, chatting about ship's business along the way. Spock had been gratified to hear that the Federation inspectors had arrived ahead of time. Their promptness had been inspired by the content of Doctor McCoy's report about the sick cattle, Torgison's attempt to bribe the doctor, and his intention of selling the antidote to the disease, thus profiting twice from the animals.

As for the disease itself, Spock's staff had acted on his recommendation and checked the carcass of the calf for vermin. They had found it infested with tiny, red insects like ticks. They had also checked the medical records of everyone who had been exposed to the calf or one of the primarily affected personnel, and found what Spock had suspected. Everybody with immunity to the New Britannian disease had once suffered from Lyme disease, a Terran affliction common in rural areas, usually contracted from deer. Or rather, from the ticks on the deer. Jim had caught the disease as a child, along with his brother Sam, after accompanying their father on a camping trip. McCoy had also had the disease in his adolescence, after going on a deer hunt with his father. Torgison and his wife had each gotten Lyme disease before they met, he from his frequent excursions into Old Australia's outback, and she from helping her father dress one of the deer he frequently brought home for supper. Their children had apparently inherited their immunity from both parents.

Once armed with this knowledge, the medics on the ENTERPRISE only had to modify the serum for Lyme disease and administer it to all those suffering from the New Britannian fever. Within twenty-four hours, the fever and all its symptoms had disappeared from all twelve. They still had a bit of joint pain, but that would gradually diminish with regular doses of vitamin B12, which, fortunately for Spock, was not toxic to Vulcans. Once he got over this lingering weakness, he would be able to return to duty.

Spock shifted position, sighing as he tried to get comfortable. Lying on his side, he buried his face in the pillow; it still smelled faintly of Jim, who had fluffed it for him before leaving. The beloved human had hinted that he would be glad to stay the night, but Spock had insisted that he retire to his own cabin. "I foresee a restless night for myself, and it is not logical that you should share my discomfort, seeing as how you must be on the bridge by 0900 tomorrow." Jim had reluctantly agreed with his logic and withdrawn. Now Spock was beginning to wish he had let him stay. It was so lonely lying here alone, without a warm, well-loved body beside him, loving arms wrapped around him, cool fingers stroking his face. Spock drifted into sleep, remembering the last time they had lain together. Jim had been so warm and loving, so eager to demonstrate that love. Spock could almost taste the kisses they had shared, feel Jim's warm, moist mouth on his...

Suddenly he became aware of pressure on his chest, a feeling of cool fingers stroking his brow, and a warm pair of lips pressed gently to his. Spock opened his eyes and found he was not alone in bed. In his sleep, he had rolled over on his back and now lay beneath his bondmate, who was lying half on him as he kissed and caressed him. Spock reached for the human's shoulders, expecting him to melt away like he always did whenever Spock dreamed of him while he was sick. But this Jim proved to be real, warm and solid, wearing nothing but his bathrobe. Spock had to exert every bit of strength he had to push him off.

"Jim, what are you doing here?" He stared at the human unbelievingly as he held him immobile, not easy to do in his weakened condition.

Kirk grinned at him shamelessly. "I missed you. I could feel you missing me too, through our bond. Every time I tried to settle down, I could feel you longing for me. So I figured as long as we both couldn't sleep, we might as well not sleep together."

"You are behaving irresponsibly," Spock reprimanded him. "Are you forgetting who is captain of this ship?"

"Are you forgetting who your bondmate is?" Kirk retorted. "And that I have a right to sleep with you?"

"Yes, I know you are entitled to lie with me whenever you wish. But Jim, I am still very weak. It would be so much better for us both if you waited until I was completely recovered."

"I didn't say I wanted to be intimate. I said I wanted to sleep with you. Just sleep, Spock." Kirk kissed him tenderly and said in Spock's Vulcan dialect, "I pray thee grant me this favor, T'hy'la, and thou may withhold from me any other favors. For I cherish thee as I do my soul, and would not be parted from either one."

"Thou art a shameless rogue, without manners or principal," Spock informed him, also in Vulcan. "Dare thee to insist upon thy rights when I am in no condition to refuse thee?"

"How else could I be sure of thy cooperation?" Kirk teased him. He kissed him again and said in Federation Standard English, "Please, Spock, just let me sleep with you. I promise not to bother you if you'll just let me spend the night."

Spock sighed. "Very well. Since I am incapable of ejecting you physically, you may as well spend the night."

"Thank you." Kirk shucked off his bathrobe and got under the covers with him. Lying on top of him, he rested his head on Spock's chest, sighing contentedly. Spock put his arms around him, wincing a little at the pain it caused, and held him close. They lay together happily, enjoying each other's warmth and closeness. After a while Kirk said, "Bones wants me to compliment you on the B'rer Rabbit strategy we used in Sickbay."

"You mean the reverse psychology I suggested you use on Torgison when he took you hostage?"

"Yeah, Bones thinks you got it from the story about B'rer Rabbit and the tar baby. It originated in the South, you know. That's how Bones recognized it and why he played along when I kept telling him not to let Torgison near the Quarantine Ward."

"I was not attempting to emulate the wily rodent in that old Southern folktale. I was merely hoping to lure Torgison to where I could dispatch him with a neck pinch, by appealing to his inherently stubborn nature."

Kirk chuckled. "Yeah, someone as stubborn as Torgison is bound to do whatever you tell him not to do. You sure had him pegged right."

"I have had much experience in dealing with stubborn humans," Spock reminded him, stopping Kirk's mouth with a kiss when the human started to protest indignantly.

Kirk yielded, enjoying the intimate contact with his mate that he'd missed so much. When they came up for air he told Spock, "I missed this almost as much as the sex."

"Why is that?" Spock asked.

"Because I've gotten used to sleeping with you, not just having sex with you. Most of the other people I've had sex with, I only slept with them afterwards because it would have been rude to throw them out. If they had to leave, I wouldn't try too hard to stop them. You're one of the very few people who I really enjoy sleeping with, as well as having sex with."

"I am pleased to hear that I compare favorably to your former lovers. At least the ones you really cared about."

"You're not jealous?" Kirk asked, half teasing, half curious.

"It would not be logical for me to be jealous of people I have never met, and who are no longer part of your life. Unless you are planning to renew your acquaintance with any of them in the future?"

"No way!" Kirk assured him. He hugged him extra hard, forcing a grunt of discomfort from him. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

"Not as much as I hurt myself, hugging you back," Spock admitted. "I still suffer from soreness in my joints."

"Let me kiss it and make it better for you." Kirk started kissing him, starting with his forehead, eyes, nose and cheekbones. He worked his way down the Vulcan's neck, stopping to nip one pointed ear playfully along the way. When he started browsing through Spock's chest hairs, where the thin, blue Sickbay coverall he still wore criss-crossed his breast, Spock became uneasy, remembering that he had nothing on beneath the coverall, not even underwear.

"Jim--" He found it very difficult to speak while his bondmate was "making it better" for him. "Jim, wait--"

"I can't wait," muttered the impatient human. He started unfastening the coverall. "I want to kiss you all over."

"Jim, please--" Spock began squirming uncomfortably beneath him. "Not yet, I beg you."

"It's okay, love. You don't have to do anything, just relax and enjoy it." Kirk undid the ties at Spock's waist and started to unwrap the garment from around him.

Spock panicked. "Jim, don't! Please, not with the lights on!"

"Why not?" Kirk asked sharply. "Will you please tell me why the hell not? Just what difference does it make if we do it with the lights on or off?"

"It would not be--seemly, for me to allow you such liberties." Spock felt as if he would die of embarrassment as he tried to tell him how he felt. "I have never been comfortable uncovering my nakedness in front of another man. Not since I was brutally taunted for doing so when I was young. Also, I still feel unworthy to be your bondmate, deep down inside, and I fear you will reject me once you see what I really look like."

Kirk almost laughed aloud. But the anguished expression on Spock's face warned him not to. He could see how serious the Vulcan was and how deeply he'd been affected by the mockery of his peers when he was young. It was up to him to make sure Spock knew he was loved, regardless of how he looked. "Spock, there's nothing unseemly about looking at the naked body of the one you love. And I do love you." He kissed him. "Before you got sick, you said we'd talk about this modesty thing of yours. Well, let's talk about it now.

"I love you and you love me. We've been bonded for over six months and I can't remember ever seeing you completely naked when the lights were on. Even when we made love the first time, you insisted on turning the lights off before we got undressed. Now we've finally gotten back together after being apart for so long, and you still want to turn the lights off. Well, I don't. I want to see you, all of you." Kirk caressed him through the opening at the neck of his coverall.

"When we bonded, you promised you would never deny me anything I truly needed. Well, I need to see you naked. Please don't deny me, Spock," he pleaded. "It's been so long since we've been together. If it really makes you uncomfortable, just close your eyes and pretend it's another of your fever dreams. You're not responsible for what happens in a dream."

Spock had to admire his logic. "I shall not deny you, T'hy'la. Do as you will with me." Closing his eyes, he laid back and let Jim do what he wanted. As long as he pretended it was only a dream, he wouldn't feel so ashamed.

As if in a dream, he felt cool human hands parting the cloth at his breast. Gentle fingers began caressing him, combing through his chest hair. That was all right, Jim often caressed him that way while he was still half dressed. Then he felt a warm mouth browsing through his chest hair, seeking one of the nipples buried beneath it. When it found one, it kissed the small green protuberance, then started to suck it. Spock let out a moan. His recent illness had left him hypersensitive to all tactile stimulation, so it almost hurt. But he couldn't ask Jim to stop. That would spoil the illusion that he was only dreaming.

Sensing his discomfort through the bond, Kirk eased up on his sucking, doing it more gently.

Now it felt better. Much better. Spock emitted a soft sigh of pleasure. When Kirk began to peel back the coverall to reveal more of his olive-toned flesh, Spock offered no resistance. This was beginning to feel more and more like one of his fever dreams. He didn't open his eyes even when Kirk unwrapped him like a present and bared his body to the groin. Those cool hands kept stroking him, feeling so good against his hotter flesh, while the alternating wet kisses on his nipples made them rise up into hard, green little nubs. His cock began to harden as well. Kirk carefully ignored it for the time being, shifting his body so he was resting on Spock's left leg, squeezing it between his own legs.

A muted moan and a feeling of discomfort through the bond warned Kirk that this was starting to feel uncomfortable too. So he shifted himself again and started rubbing his own rapidly hardening cock against Spock's stomach. The pleasurable sensations this caused made Spock arch his back, only to let out a groan of pain as his still tender vertebrae joints objected to his sudden movement. Kirk quickly put his hands beneath Spock's back, supporting him and easing the pain. He kissed him too, making little shushing sounds to comfort him.

Spock settled down and allowed himself to be loved, purring with contentment. This dream was getting better by the minute.

Kirk was able to pull down the coverall even further before gently lowering Spock back down to the bed. Now he flung the covers off his back and carefully eased the garment down Spock's thighs, licking his lips at the sight of his bondmate's delectable green organ, which was getting harder every second. He decided to speed up the process. Taking Spock's semi-rigid organ in one hand, he began to pump it while continuing to caress Spock's upper body with his other hand. Even in the dimness of the lowest setting of the cabin's reddish interior lighting, he could still see Spock's body clearly enough to admire his thin, powerful build. He continued to caress his love while pleasuring himself with the sight of his love's naked body, stroking every inch of it that he could reach.

Between the stroking of his body and the pumping of his cock, it didn't take long for Spock to come. When he did, he felt his bondmate's warm mouth descend upon his streaming cock and swallow every drop. Just like in my dream, he thought dazedly, remembering the most explicit one he had while lying in his fevered doze. As the familiar feeling of drowsy pleasure came over him, he found himself wondering if the whole thing had actually been real or just another dream. Had he really allowed Jim to see him naked, with the lights on?

Before he could drift off to sleep, he felt the welcome weight of Jim's body on top of his again. He felt Jim's mouth on his, kissing him, passing on the flavor of his semen.

"You're beautiful," he told Spock softly. "Every inch of you is beautiful. Why do you want to hide yourself?"

"You are not ashamed of me?" Spock whispered, hardly daring to ask. "My body does not repulse you?"

"No, why should it? Open your eyes, Spock. Look at me." Spock opened his eyes and saw Jim looking into his face. His hazel eyes were filled with love.

"Do I look like I'm repulsed?" Kirk asked him softly.

"Jim. My Jim..." Spock held him so close, this time it was the human who gave a moan of protest. "I'm sorry! This is another reason I'm ashamed to love you. I'm so afraid I may forget myself and hurt you in a moment of intense passion."

"You managed not to hurt me during pon farr," Kirk reminded him. "If you can control yourself during the most intensely emotional period of a Vulcan's life, I'm sure you'll have no trouble controlling yourself the rest of the time."

Spock held him close, ignoring the soreness in his joints. "And if you can help me relive a few more of those dreams I had in Sickbay, I think it may help me get over my excessive modesty."

"We'll help each other, Spock, the way bondmates are supposed to," Kirk assured him. Kissing him tenderly, he added, "I'm proud of you for letting me go this far with the lights on. Let's see how far we can go tomorrow."

"Jim, don't you require release?" Spock asked sleepily.

"Not tonight, love. Besides, I already shared yours." The bond allowed them to share sensations as well as thoughts and feelings.

"In that case, goodnight, Jim." They kissed one more time before settling down for the night in each other's arms. Gradually the room's sensors extinguished the light, then lowered the temperature to a level that was comfortable for humans, as Spock had programmed them to do whenever Kirk spent the night.

Once again Captain Kirk was lying on the warm, strong body of his Vulcan bondmate and first officer, and this time they were in no danger of being awakened too early.

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