SOMETHING HIDDEN

by

Sheila Clark

The Vulcan youth looked at the application form he had just completed. Long and complicated, it included many questions the purpose of which was obscure; questions that seemed meaningless, illogical, irrelevant. Of what interest was it to anyone but himself what hobbies he pursued? It was perhaps necessary to say that he had no brothers or sisters, or to give his parents' ages - not that he was sure of his mother's age, for she didn't know for certain herself, coming as she did from a planet with a different length of year; she had never bothered to compute the Vulcan equivalent of her Terran age, for she didn't think it mattered - though why it should be necessary to put it in the form, he couldn't think. However, he had endeavoured to answer all the questions as fully as possible, even the ones he considered the most stupid, for this was a form applying for entry to Starfleet, the elite of the Federation; and his greatest desire in life was to become a Starfleet Science Officer... even, perhaps, to attain the almost unthinkable heights of serving aboard a Starship. He still cherished memories of the day when his school class had been taken aboard the U.S.S. Farragut and shown round her. He had had to be literally pulled away from the Science Department, he was so fascinated by the array of beautiful instruments and machines at the Science Officer's disposal. He had experienced emotion that day, even though he was sure he had hidden it so that no-one saw - his schoolmates would have been quick to mock him if they had seen. Not envy, he decided, even now unsure of how to label his reaction of that day. No, not envy... something more complicated than that, but surely not so undesirable... the longing to have these instruments, so much finer than the best his school could produce, to work with...

That was the day that he had first decided what career he wanted to follow. If only life was as easy as making that decision had been. For his father wanted him to join the Vulcan Science Academy. They were at least agreed on one thing, Spock thought; they were both decided that he should follow a scientific career. He hadn't yet told Sarek that he wanted to join Starfleet; he was waiting for a suitable opportunity, for he knew that Sarek would not willingly agree. Sarek, he knew, would take a great deal of persuading... if indeed he listened at all. It was not customary for a Vulcan son to choose his own career, or to oppose his father's wishes in the matter... indeed, in any matter. Even Sarek had been subject to his father for long years after his marriage to Amanda. As a boy, Spock had sometimes wondered how Sarek had ever found the courage to tell his father he intended marrying a Terran, until he discovered that Sarek had presented his father with a fait acompli - a young wife, already pregnant, unlikely as the Vulcan-Terran genetic cross had appeared to be. Only later had he discovered details - the mating fever, eased by the young human girl, daughter of a diplomatic colleague, the Vulcan ethos that made the marriage necessary because of the mental closeness caused by the mating. His parents were fortunate that he survived; a later pregnancy had had to be terminated to save Amanda's life - there was no way that the unborn child could have been saved. Thereafter, she could not conceive again. He had been bitter about it; only six, he was already subject to mockery and taunts from his schoolmates - his Human blood was cause enough for accusations of emotionalism to be thrown at him, rightly or wrongly; he had desperately wanted someone to share his apartness; a brother of the same mixed blood. But his brother had died unborn, killed by antibodies that he had started in his mother's blood...

He dragged his mind away from the unwelcome memory and studied the form again. Everything filled in correctly - even his mother's age, approximated by himself - everything except the date...

Carefully, he put the form away. He still had several weeks before the closing day for applications for this year, several weeks to try to persuade Sarek. He could, of course, apply and present Sarek with a fait acompli; but he didn't want to do that. It would disturb his mother too much. He had only once seen her cry - and it was not an experience he wanted to repeat.

The opportunity he was seeking didn't come for two or three days. However, he was reasonably satisfied; he had thought he might have to wait a lot longer, perhaps even broach the subject at an inauspicious moment in order to deal with it before the closing date.

Sarek stared at him with as open a display of amazement as Spock had ever seen him show, but no anger.

"Starfleet? Spock, you cannot be serious. Oh, I have nothing against Starfleet; its ships do much good, and scientific knowledge has increased greatly because of its exploration. But there are occasions when Starships are compelled to use force in order to keep the peace; if only because there is not the time, nor a trained diplomat present, to find a non-violent solution. If they would only agree to including a trained diplomat on every ship!... Spock, surely your Human blood is not so strong that you would accept being present when there is violence, or willingly serve with those who would kill other sentient beings? Even your mother, Human though she is, detests violence."

"Father, I thought of this. I weighed the good Starfleet does against this. I believe the balance is for good."

"Perhaps. But the violence cannot be forgotten."

"I considered also the many opportunities for scientific research that would - will - be open to me on a Starfleet vessel. I remember the instruments I saw on the Farragut - vastly superior to any I have ever seen on Vulcan. To have such at my command - what I could not discover!"

"Spock - I ask you to consider again. Do you think you will be assigned to a Starship? Is that what attracts you? Your chances of such a promotion are slight. Vulcans advance slowly in Starfleet, I have learned. We are not considered 'Good officer material', because of our love of peace. You would be assigned first of all to a small research or survey vessel, and would be left there for years, running all the risks, never heard of, getting little credit; have you so little regard for our name? In the Science Academy, you would advance according to your abilities. And the Science Academy gathers data from all over the Galaxy, not just from one ship and the limited technology one ship can cover. I think you will find the instruments at the Science Academy the equal of any you saw on the Farragut - there is no expense spared to give our scientists the best. I am convinced that you would find the Academy much more rewarding professionally..."

But not personally, Spock thought mutinously.

"...I do not refuse you permission," Sarek went on. "But neither do I give it. This must be your decision. Only remember that I will not approve of your joining Starfleet. I ask you also to think of your family, and of racial considerations. You know the circumstances that led me to marry your mother. I have not regretted it, to be sure; but her life has not been easy, and I, too, had many adjustments to make. You know the pressures that are put upon you; do you want your son to know them too? T'Pring cannot go into Starfleet with you; she has no training, nor aptitudes suitable for Starfleet. Do you want to become a bigamist, with a mate in Starfleet and a bondmate on Vulcan? That, at least, I did not have to consider; my bondmate died before I went to Earth. But had she not, she could have accompanied me. An ambassador's wife needs few skills. Remember too, Spock, I know what it is to live among outworlders. Even the most tolerant of them look at you askance, wondering, speculating... Even in all the years that she has been here, your mother is still regarded as an alien."

"But so am I, who was born here!" It was an anguished cry he could not hold back.

"To leave - to choose to live and work among Humans - would confirm the truth of the accusation." There was little sympathy there. "Think about it a little longer, Spock."

He was dismissed. He went to his room, to think as he had been bidden; but he didn't get peace to think. He had only been sitting in his room for a few minutes when his mother came in.

"Spock - your father told me. Oh, Spock, you can't want to leave us?" The emotion she normally kept hidden with almost Vulcan efficiency was showing fully. He hoped she wouldn't cry...

"Mother, I do not want to leave. But I have my life to consider. I know what I want to do with it..."

"Spock, believe me, it isn't easy living among aliens. Don't think your Human blood will help you; it won't, because you look Vulcan, think Vulcan, behave Vulcan. And you won't ever get the same chance for promotion that Humans do. No race favours outworlders before their own people, no matter how able they are, and everyone knows that Starfleet is Human-dominated. Humans are the most chauvinistic of all races, Spock; I'm Human, I know. Spock, your father lived on Earth for several years. He knows what he's talking about. Take his advice. Forget about Starfleet. Please."

Tears were beginning to run down her face; she turned and left hurriedly, leaving Spock staring after her helplessly, more disturbed than if she'd broken down completely.

At last, he walked slowly to the drawer, and took out the Starfleet application. He read it through carefully; then, his lips set in a tight line and anguish in his eyes, he tore it across.

He was unenthusiastic about applying to enter the Vulcan Science Academy; equally unenthusiastic when his application was accepted. Sarek was complimented on his son's self-control, and accepted the compliment with equanimity, believing it to be justified. He never understood, then or later, that for Spock the zest had gone out of life.

His contemporaries noticed a difference too. No longer did he appear to be fighting to control emotion; no longer was it relatively easy to bait him. He accepted what life offered, now, with quiet resignation; when Sevar tried to mock him, he simply stared at the youth without response. The mockery and taunts stopped that day. The game was no longer rewarding.

He became a Junior Scientist - a grade almost of apprenticeship. He rose to full Scientist with unusual rapidity - his work was accurate and efficient, even by Vulcan standards, and it, at least, was something meaningful to him. At an age when most Vulcans would have considered themselves fortunate to be promoted to full Scientist, he was further promoted, becoming Chief Scientist. He could not rise much higher.

On the day his upgrading was announced, Sarek looked triumphantly at him, permitting himself the luxury of expressing his feelings in the privacy of their house.

"Was I not correct, my son, when I advised you to forget your childhood ambition? Could you possibly have attained this rank so soon anywhere but at the Vulcan Science Academy? You have honoured our name."

Spock said nothing. No trace of elation showed on his face; for even this did not have the power to excite him.

"Have you nothing to say, Spock?"

"I am a scientist, Father. Titles mean nothing to me. All that matters is being permitted to continue with the research in hand."

"A reply worthy of my son. I am proud of you, Spock."

The larger satellite of the planet called Zaynol was close to Roche's limit; so close that it couldn't possibly be long before the gravitational stresses destroyed it, shattering its globe into millions of fragments and killing the many species of animal and plant life that lived there; for Zaynol's system was unique, in that life was possible on the satellite but could not survive in the chlorine-methane-carbon dioxide mixture that made up the planet's atmosphere.

The event itself, while not rare in the history of the Galaxy, was rare enough for scientists from all over the Federation to want to investigate it. The break-up was so imminent, however, that the Federation Council was unwilling for too many of its top scientists to run the risk of investigating the phenomenon personally. One group could go, the Council said. One group only, and that, not more than a dozen men.

The Vulcans had the best claim to be that group; not only had they first identified the satellite as being ready to disintegrate, but also, since the temperature and atmosphere were close to Vulcan norm, they could live there without added environmental protection, unlike any of the other races that clamoured to go. They readily agreed to make their findings available for the study of scientists of all other races.

The Science Academy was asked to submit a dozen names; and among them, and recommended to command the group, was Chief Scientist Spock.

Hurried meetings followed; there was little time. On Spock's suggestion, a team of technicians left immediately, while the scientists were still finalising their arrangements, to build and stock a research station on the doomed satellite, and to set up automatic recording stations on Zaynol itself. The results of these would be relayed both to the satellite and to Vulcan itself - the moon's destruction would inevitably cause disturbances on the planet. The research personnel needed to gather the information to correlate it with information gathered on the moon, and the stations would continue to relay information to Vulcan long after the final holocaust, information that could be integrated into the over-all picture. A further recording station was set up on the planet's smaller satellite, although it was so far distant that it was suspected that there would be little effect on it, except perhaps to let it break free from Zaynol to pursue an independent orbit around the sun until it was recaptured by one of the other planets. These, at the moment, were all quite distant as well, the two whose orbits were closest to Zaynol's being on the far side of the sun; the effects on them would probably be non-existent, since the over-all pull of the Zaynol system wouldn't be much affected. The bulk of the satellite would remain; only its composition would be altered.

One remaining personnel problem remained to be settled. Spock had not at first considered it; Sarek brought it to his attention. "You will, of course, be taking T'Pring," he said.

"T'Pring? I had not thought of it." Spock, never excited by anything, was always at his least enthusiastic when T'Pring was brought to his notice. Bonded together as children only seven years old, they had been given no choice in the matter, no chance of refusal. Their fathers were agreed - and even had they been consulted, neither could have passed much of an opinion; they didn't know each other, had never met before the ceremony. To the seven-year-old Spock, T'Pring had had little more reality than a puppet; thinking about it afterwards, he realised that he must have seemed much the same to her as they moved through the roles so carefully instilled into them by their parents. But as they grew older, and were permitted to see each other occasionally - a thing many parents did not permit - her lack of what he considered to be intelligent conversation and common sense began to irritate him. The girl was a fool, an echo of her equally foolish but more dominating mother. And - shaming thought - she was that most undesirable of creatures, a woman who occasionally showed emotion. Why, Amanda, his mother, Human though she was, had better control than T'Pring! He was different enough, with his Human blood; there was speculation enough about that, there always had been. And it was hard indeed that he, having a Human mother, should be burdened with an emotional wife!

"You must think of it, Spock," Sarek said urgently. He hesitated, then went on. "Spock, the doctors who examined you all after your selection - they asked me to tell you. As your father, it is my duty. Your Human heritage has altered certain of the physiological characteristics of our race. Specifically, the characteristics associated with the onset of the... the mating urge. By Vulcan standards, you are still by far too young for the onset of Pon Farr. But you are already more than double the age at which most young Humans can first mate. The doctors believe that your Pon Farr cannot now be long delayed. T'Pring must accompany you - or you will die, your work unfinished."

"If T'Pring goes, all others who are bonded or already married must be given the opportunity to take their wives."

Sarek nodded. "Of course."

Spock sighed. "I would prefer to go without her... "

"You dare not. And indeed, Spock, you will probably find it easier to accept her presence once your union is finalised."

Spock shook his head, almost sadly. "She has no real intelligence. It is impossible to talk to her about anything meaningful. You can discuss things with mother, and know she will make sensible contribution to the discussion. T'Pring cannot."

There was little further delay. The dozen scientists, accompanied by T'Pring and seven other wives, set off for Zaynol. The four unmarried men were all widowed, and old enough to be safely past Pon Farr - it was only the onset of the mating urge that had to be satisfied or end in death. Spock found himself envying them a little. No - if he was honest, envying them a great deal.

They arrived as the parties setting up the station and the recording installations were finishing; those men left on the ship bringing the scientists, who settled down to their studies.

One precaution had been taken - the scientists were left an emergency transmitter as well as a standard one which was used to send off the processed data. This emergency beacon was to be activated when they decided that the satellite's instability was becoming too great; and all Starships entering the area were ordered to be on the watch for this signal. Anything smaller than a Starship, it was felt, would be too small to survive the altering gravitational stresses that would be set up by the satellite's change from a single solid body to a mass of debris. No-one said anything about what would be done if there was not a Starship in the area - in an emergency, a ship couldn't reach them in time from Vulcan; but the time involved was too uncertain for Starfleet to assign a ship to wait. There was always too much work for Starships to do...

The scientists settled down to what, they felt sure, would be an indefinite period of fascinating study. They knew, indeed, that the research could end with their deaths; the satellite's destruction could occur without giving them sufficient time to activate the beacon, even if there was a Starship nearby. But all had considered this; all had chosen to accept the assignment - in a sense, all were volunteers, willing to run this risk for the joy of making an investigation that no other scientist would be able to duplicate for millennia - if ever. And the data poured in, accumulating at an amazing rate; from the instruments on the satellite, from the planet below, and even, unlikely as it had seemed, from the distant smaller satellite. Each day's records were radioed off as soon as they were processed; seismographic records, weather records, animal behaviour records, plant growth, all correlated.

Each day, Chief Scientist Spock made his way from one group of researchers to another, checking their results, his computer-sharp brain comparing the results with those remembered from the day before.

Sometimes Seval, his immediate subordinate, found himself wondering if perhaps Spock wasn't rather young for his position, then the force of Spock's intellect and ability was forced once more to his notice. Strange man, Spock, he reflected; grave beyond his years, detached, self-sufficient even by Vulcan standards, he held himself completely aloof, all others at arm's length and asking for no-one's company in friendship. Even T'Pring seemed to be granted little of his company - if she was still a bondmate, rather than a mate, which seemed likely in view of his youth, that was less surprising. But he treated her more as a girl child, barely schooled, than as a woman soon to be fully mature; almost, it seemed, he scorned her as being unfit to be his wife. Certainly she was far from being Spock's intellectual equal - though she might, given time and more understanding treatment, develop the confidence and self-assurance that would fit her for her eventual position as matriarch of the family.

It was strange, though, that Spock, who could handle his fellow scientists so efficiently, should have so little understanding of how to behave towards his own wife. Could it be the effect of his Human blood? And was it that same Human blood that was responsible for the sadness that showed so often in his eyes, even though it was not detectable in his thoughts? Many Vulcans would not have noticed it - but Seval was the oldest of the scientists there, and could recognise it, though the younger among them certainly would not.

Spock himself was unaware, now, of being anything other than almost wholly content. His work was fascinating, rewarding; he had indeed advanced quickly in his career - did it really matter that it was not the career he would have selected for himself? Sarek was right; in Starfleet, his capabilities would not have been recognised so rapidly.

And if research work was occasionally monotonous, so surely would the long voyages between planetfalls have been... and if he had been an officer on a Starship, he would have been denied the right to investigate this phenomenon... always assuming I had been fortunate enough to be assigned to a Starship, he reminded himself, resolutely refusing to acknowledge the insidious little whisper that tried to remind him that scientific investigation on a Starfleet vessel, even a small research one, would certainly be more varied, and probably sometimes be experiences as unique as this one.

He woke one morning feeling slightly disorientated, conscious of his body in a way that was unfamiliar to him. He frowned, trying to relax, and finding it extremely difficult. He was also unusually conscious of T'Pring, lying at the far side of the one-roomed hut that was their home.

Without waiting for a meal, he went out, and he was half-way through checking some results before anyone else joined him. He moved from one to the other as usual, trying to take his usual interest in his work; to his horror, he found that it was getting increasingly difficult to think properly. Finally, he found that one of his calculations didn't agree with the one presented to him. Normally, he would have asked the erring scientist to check his results; but he retained enough sense to realise that on this day, it could very easily be his own calculations that were at fault. Quickly, he rechecked; how had he come to make such a simple, basic error? But he knew why.

Sarek - the doctors - had been right! This must signify the onset of Pon Farr... well, he might as well get the unwelcome business over with.

He went out of the laboratory hut, back to his own cabin. T'Pring, busy cleaning the place, stared at him in some surprise - this was the first time he had ever come back in the middle of the day. She saw the unusual glitter in his eyes as he strode towards her, and fear dawned in her own eyes. He caught her, and the awareness of her as a female completed his loss of control. He tore the clothes from her and threw her onto her bed. She stiffened, repressing a scream as she realised in her turn what was wrong. He pulled off his own clothes, threw them aside, and flung himself on top of her.

She gasped with the pain as her taut muscles tried vainly to deny him entrance to her body. She tried again to relax, knowing that her resistance, involuntary though it was, was making the whole experience worse for her, but her body was not yet ready for this invasion of her personal privacy. She was a full-blooded Vulcan, and for her the time was not yet ripe.

He thrust deep into her with a rhythmic pressure that went on and on. After a while, he paused for a few moments, then he began again, as avidly and as mercilessly as before. Even the mind meld between them was intensified, but it brought no pleasure either, only added discomfort, for the hormones that would have responded to his need were not yet being produced by her body, and there was nothing that her mind could do to trigger them into production.

Didn't he care how unpleasant this was for her? No, a distant voice told her. The forces ruling his body did not permit him to care.

Would he never stop?

It was many hours before he gave her peace. At intervals, the uncomfortable thrusting ceased while he bit and sucked at her neck and shoulders, marking them, bruising them; while his mouth covered hers so that she could hardly breath, his tongue forcing its way between her lips in a manner that she suspected had to be Human; and she submitted because she had no choice but to do so.

But even when the thrusting stopped, the unpleasant hardness within her body remained there, paining her, and her legs grew stiff and tired from the uncomfortable, awkward position in which she had no alternative but to hold them; and then the thrusting had begun again, getting more and more painful as her body was bruised more and more by the constant pressure.

The pauses between his assaults on her, during which he kissed and bit at her, slowly grew more prolonged; and at last he withdrew from her, and stood up.

They looked at each other, each aware that the other could not understand how they each had felt. At last, Spock said, quietly, "Your body was not ready to accept mine."

She nodded silently, tears in her eyes.

He looked helplessly at her, trying to find something to say; but she spoke first.

"Is it always like that?"

"I do not know. I would suspect that the first time always is, however."

"But why? Surely... " Her voice trailed into silence.

"Go on."

"Is that why there must be madness? Because it hurts so much?"

"It did not hurt me," Spock replied slowly. "I think it would not have hurt you, if your body had been mature enough."

She sobbed, once, before regaining a rather precarious control, and saw the distaste in his face.

"Don't you feel anything, Spock? Ever?"

"Feel? You mean emotion, T'Pring?"

"Yes. Spock, you're half Human. Does that mean nothing?"

"I am Vulcan."

"Your mother is Human! That's why... I was glad when you were chosen for me. I was sure... I can feel emotion, Spock. I was sure you would understand, because of your Human blood. But you don't! Seval looks at me with more kindness than you do!"

"I do not understand emotion," he replied firmly, believing that he spoke the truth.

She stared at him. "Don't you feel anything for your family? Your friends?"

"My family? I respect my elders. My friends? I have none. I want none. I respect those of my colleagues who are worthy of respect. Those who, in my opinion, are not, I avoid or ignore. How else should one react?"

"Isn't there anyone you like?"

"No," Spock replied quietly. The sadness Seval had noticed showed in his eyes, but T'Pring was incapable of recognising it. There was no-one... Sarek had been wrong. There was not even T'Pring.

No-one mentioned his absence, or that of T'Pring, any more than they - or he - ever mentioned a day-long absence of any colleague, unless he spoke of it first, although Spock considered it certain that everyone knew the reason for it. At least this reticence made it easier for him to face them, embarrassed as he felt about the whole episode. He plunged straight into his work next day, trying to make up for the lost time.

The days slipped past, each one adding to the sum of their knowledge of the forces that were being unleashed. Quakes, minor at first, were now a daily occurrence, each one stronger than the one before. It would soon be time to withdraw.

On the planet below, volcanism was increasing, although it was not certain how much of that was due to the basic instability of the terrain and how much to the altering stability of the moon that was their base. Then the day came when their previously geologically stable world also threw up a volcano.

An earthquake split the ground open; from the crack welled lava, oozing up, sluggishly at first, from a reservoir of magma deep, deep in the depths of the crust, oozing slowly as if unwilling to face the light and coolness on the surface. They observed from a distance, warned by the continuing tremors not to venture too close. The lava formed a river, flowing down a slight slope towards the encampment. Spock watched it, estimating its speed and direction, and came to the conclusion that even if the rate of flow increased as the new volcano gained in height, the camp was safe; the lava river would not reach it for several days, and then it would pass a little to one side of it. The only real danger would be if a new fissure opened, changing the direction of flow.

He assigned three of the scientists to watch the new volcano, recording its development, and the others went back to their duties in camp. Their eight wives were gathered there, busily attending to their domestic chores. Spock glanced round the group of women, noting with approval the calm way most of them were behaving despite the distant rumbling of the lava flow. His jaw tightened as he noticed the one who was showing most signs of distress. T'Pring was definitely looking frightened. It was no comfort to him to remember that members of other races would not recognise that she was afraid; he did, and it was shaming to him. His immediate reaction was to assign her some duty that would remove her from the presence of these other women, who would also recognise T'Pring's fear, if they had not already done so.

"T'Pring!" he exclaimed.

She went over to him, "Yes, Husband?" She fought to keep her voice steady.

It was time to go, anyway. He dared not wait much longer. "Go to the radio hut. Activate the recall signal."

"Yes, Husband."

She turned towards the hut; he could see the relief clear in her stance, in the way she moved, and wished again that it had not been necessary to bring her. For a moment he considered the mating habits of Humans, such as he knew of them. If he had inherited that from his mother, it would have been a useful attribute! To be able to mate when he wanted to, and not, as on this occasion too recently experienced, when his body decreed he must; to be able to dispense with the presence of his mate on an occasion such as this... most useful!

He sighed inwardly, and turned back to his work, putting the matter out of his mind.

T'Pring, making her way towards the radio hut, fought for self-control, her mind also a mass of warring emotions. Why do I find it so hard to control my feelings? she wondered. And why doesn't Spock understand? He's half-Human. But whatever he had inherited from his mother's race, it seemed that emotion hadn't been included. Why, even Seval seemed to understand; and the other women... they even admitted to sharing those fears she experienced - when their husbands weren't about. There had been several discussions among the women - private ones, during the hours when the men were busy; she had come to understand that she wasn't alone in feeling emotion; her uniqueness lay in being almost unable to control her emotions.

She choked back a sob, the habit of attempting control restraining her even though she was alone, and pushed open the door of the radio hut. It was a little stiff - had been since a fairly severe tremor had shaken the camp nearly a week ago. There was no way of loosening it, short of removing the door altogether; but they had chosen not to do that, leaving it to protect the radio equipment from the wind-blown sand that could have damaged it severely. Not that such sand-storms were frequent occurrences, although they were increasing in frequency; but it was better to take no chances.

For purely personal reasons, T'Pring was glad they had left it.

She pushed the door shut behind her, knowing that its sound as it opened would tell her in plenty time if she was to be disturbed; and allowed herself to slump tiredly.

Oh, well, soon they would be away from this benighted hole. At least one good thing would come of it; Spock, already known as a promising young scientist, would be better-known once they got back. She would have some honour as his wife. It was some compensation for that awful day that was still too fresh in her memory. Why hadn't her mother warned her it would be so dreadful?

She went over to the equipment; and flicked on the switch of the recall beacon.

Almost as if the beacon was a signal to it, the ground began to shake as soon as the switch was down. T'Pring turned and ran for the door, staggering slightly as the ground trembled under her feet. She tugged at the door. It refused to budge.

She screamed in sudden, uncontrollable terror, tugging in panic at the door with all her strength. What if the roof should fall on her? She was still screaming when the floor of the hut split right open. The communications console with the recall beacon slid into the crack.

She pressed herself desperately against the door as the ground shook again, a long tremor increasing in severity until she lost her balance and fell, still screaming, clutching desperately at the air, into the void. A moment later, even as half of the hut fell in too, the crack snapped shut again, and her scream was cut off short.

This had been the worst tremor yet. The other Vulcans, even though they knew it was T'Pring screaming from the communications hut, even though they knew she would not have screamed like that unless matters had been desperate, could do nothing but lie still where the tremor had thrown them until the ground steadied again. Then they went towards the radio hut to investigate. But, of course, there was nothing they could do.

They stood staring at the wreckage of the hut; at the one standing wall, held up by the roof that lay with its other side balanced against the ground; at the planks sticking up out of the ground; and they knew what had happened. Seval glanced at Spock.

"We grieve with you, Chief Scientist," he said formally.

"We will not long survive her," Spock replied calmly. "The recall beacon has been destroyed."

As they stared at him, he added, "Even if T'Pring had time to activate it, it can only have been working for a few seconds. The chances of such a short signal being picked up are... very poor."

They returned to their work. Even though it was highly unlikely that the results they were now programming would ever reach Vulcan, it kept their minds occupied. And if rescue should come - why, it would let the Galaxy see that Vulcans did not allow the lack of any hope to defeat them. They would continue to work, regardless.

Seval felt that he would give a great deal to know just what Spock was thinking with regard to T'Pring's death. He knew that they had mated; formed the final bond. But Spock's eyes, that so often showed sadness, were veiled now, showing nothing.

And indeed, if Spock felt anything, it was relief. Relief that it should have been his wife who died, and not one of the others. They had the right to die with their men. Relief that she was no longer there, under these circumstances, to shame him with her fears. Relief that she no longer needed to be afraid. And, in a twisted way, relief that his own life was soon to end. For when he came to think of it, he really had very little that he valued that he might want to live for. The only thing he had ever wanted, he reflected, was the one thing he had rejected all his life - friendship. He had never met anyone to whom he felt really drawn; and he was not prepared to accept second best.

There was no great urgency about the Enterprise's mission to Epsilon Equulei.

It was actually a three-part mission, the other two parts of which were being carried out by the Excalibur and the Kongo. Three trinary star systems to be investigated, all possible data collected, and passed back to the boffins to be processed. A straightforward routine mission.

Captain James T. Kirk sat back in his command chair and yawned. These routine research missions were certainly peaceful, restful, even; but they did have a tendency to become boring. He was playing with the idea of leaving Chekov in command - good practise for the lad! - when McCoy, the Chief Medical Officer, came onto the bridge. Kirk glanced round as he heard the elevator door opening and grinned a welcome.

"Hello, Bones. How're things in your department?"

"Quiet. You wouldn't like to make a detour to some planetary system somewhere so that I could pick up some small animals or something to research?"

Kirk grinned. "Sorry, Bones," he chuckled. "There 's nowhere suitable along the route - unless you'd like to drop off at Lambda Pegasi and try your luck at finding something living in a chlorine-methane mixture?"

McCoy looked thoughtful. "Bacteria might," he began.

"They'd be small enough, anyway - but if you go down there, you go yourself. I'm not going anywhere near the surface of a methane planet without direct orders from Starfleet."

McCoy chuckled with Kirk. "Coward!" he began, but was interrupted before he could say anything more by Lieutenant Uhura. She turned from the communications console. "Captain - I just picked up a short signal on the emergency band, but it cut off after a few seconds."

"Did you get a fix on it, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir. It seemed to be coming from direction 157 mark 4."

First Officer Wood looked up from his station at the library computer. "That's about right for Lambda Pegasi, sir. There's that Vulcan research station there we were told to listen out for. They may want picked up."

"If they do, why cut the signal off?" McCoy asked reasonably. "Maybe they were just testing their beacon."

"We'll check it out anyway," Kirk decided. "If they were just testing, I'll put a flea in someone's ear for crying 'wolf', and then put in an official report to Starfleet, complaining. Mr. Sulu - increase speed to Warp factor six."

"Warp six, sir," the helmsman acknowledged.

The Enterprise sped on through space.

Kirk, while concerned for the possible safety of the Vulcans of the research group - he wouldn't have cared, himself, to be one of them, sitting on a doomed planetoid, not knowing whether they would get off it before it exploded - did think it possible that McCoy was right; one of the scientists, a species well-known for lack of common sense, had very likely tried the beacon to see if it was working, forgetting that the signal would be picked up. Even Vulcan must have its absent-minded professors, he thought cynically. Well, if it was a false alarm, they would be gratified to have rescue arriving so fast - even if it wasn't needed. And if it was genuine... the sudden cessation in the signal looked ominous. He tried not to think of that, fixing his mind rather on the fact that this did make a break in the monotony of the trip, which up to now had been singularly uneventful.

At last they arrived and swung into orbit around the still-extant satellite.

Wood looked up from his sensors.

"Extreme instability indicated, Captain," he said. "All that's holding it together is luck."

"So the beacon wasn't set off by accident."

"I don't think so, sir."

Kirk glanced round towards the communications console. "Uhura?"

"I can't raise them, sir."

Something was seriously wrong. "Any sign of life, Mr. Wood?" There was a short pause. Then -

"Several Vulcan readings, sir. At least some of the scientists are still alive."

"Give the co-ordinates to the transporter room, Mr. Wood, then take over; I'm going down."

He chose to go alone, although McCoy pleaded to be allowed to accompany him.

"No, Bones. I'm not risking anyone else." He glanced at Kyle, waiting patiently beside the control console. "Energise, Mr. Kyle."

"Energising, sir."

He materialised among a small cluster of huts... wooden huts? Now why had the Vulcans used wood for their buildings? He glanced round and saw that trees did figure prominently in the flora. He nodded to himself. They had simply used the nearest material available in bulk.

In the distance, he could see the glow of a volcano, and hear its muffled rumbling. Nearby, one of the huts had collapsed, and the material of which it had been composed was piled neatly. He walked forward, looking for the residents.

As he walked round one of the huts, two Vulcan women appeared, coming towards him. They stopped, staring with every appearance of surprise - which amazed Kirk, who had been led to believe that Vulcans never, under any circumstances, showed their feelings. He could only assume that, having given up hope, this was their reaction to hope reborn. He moved to meet them.

"James T. Kirk, commanding the U.S.S. Enterprise," he introduced himself. "We picked up a distress signal from here."

"The men are all in the laboratory," one of the women said. She glanced at her companion. "If you go for the water, T'Prell, I will take the Captain to the Chief Scientist."

T'Prell nodded and moved on as the other woman gestured. "This way, Captain Kirk."

"Thank you, Miss...?"

"T'Par. My husband is assistant botanist here."

T'Par led him to a hut that was rather larger than the others, without wasting words on further conversation. Kirk reflected that all he had heard about Vulcan was undoubtedly true; a Human woman, under the same circumstances, would have been chattering unrestrainedly, asking for news... except that Human scientists would have been unlikely to have been accompanied by their wives. Why had the Vulcans considered it necessary to take theirs, and risk their lives unnecessarily?

She opened the hut door and he followed her in, waving aside her almost instinctive hesitation, her apparent acceptance of the fact that he would expect to precede her. After all, he was the stranger, the guest, here.

The Vulcans inside were all male. None of them seemed to possess enough curiosity to look up from their work, although they must have heard the door opening; T'Par led Kirk to where a tall Vulcan stood watching a seated one at work.

"Chief Scientist," T'Par said softly, when it became clear that Kirk was not going to speak first, nor the men look up from their work.

The standing man raised his head, his face stern. For a moment it seemed to Kirk that the Vulcan was intending to rebuke T'Par for her presumption in daring to interrupt; then he saw Kirk, and an eyebrow lifted.

"This is Captain Kirk, Chief Scientist," T'Par said. She lowered her eyes as if to apologise for her presence, and turned to go.

"Thank you," Kirk called after her, wondering at the Vulcans' lack of courtesy. They had treated her as if she barely existed.

"Captain Kirk," the scientist said. "I am Chief Scientist Spock, leader of our group at this research station."

"We received a distress call from here," Kirk said quietly. "It was cut off short; we wondered if your beacon was being tested, but decided that we dare not ignore the possibility that the call was genuine."

"It was indeed genuine," Spock replied, equally quietly. "The seismic indications are that the satellite will disintegrate within the next day or so. But the beacon had only just been put into operation when a quake destroyed the radio hut...and killed the operator. I am gratified to learn that the signal, short as it was, was picked up."

"Thank my Communications Officer for that," Kirk answered, smiling. "She's a very capable young woman." It wouldn't do any harm to let the Vulcans know that Humans, at least, valued their womenfolk. He glanced round, and went on. "You certainly don't look like a group living under sentence of death."

"There was no logic in behaving in any other way," Spock said. "Even though our results were to die with us, we would at least have had the satisfaction of knowing exactly what was the course of events preceding actual disintegration. As it is, now all Federation scientists will benefit."

"Yes," Kirk said, wondering as he did if he would have had the guts to continue as the Vulcans were doing. They weren't even showing excitement over the prospect of rescue; not even the one whose work Spock had been... checking? had paused, but had continued tabulating his data as if there was no emergency.

"Well, sir," he went on, "if the satellite's destruction is as close as you say, don't you think it would be a good idea to get everyone on board the Enterprise as soon as possible?"

Slowly, almost unwillingly, Spock nodded. "Yes, Captain, I think perhaps you are right. But there are still readings coming in from our instruments here. The ones on Zaynol itself and on the further satellite are also being automatically transmitted back to Vulcan, but these are not. It would be regrettable if the final readings were all lost."

"The Enterprise has extremely good sensors," Kirk replied. "We - I mean, you - and your men can use them to take the final readings."

"You are generous, Captain," Spock acknowledged. He looked round at his men, and raised his voice slightly. "It is time to go. Gather all your data, and come."

He led the way outside, Kirk at his heels, and glanced round again as the other scientists joined them, one by one. "Fetch your wives."

The seven whose wives still lived left the group; Spock looked at Seval.

"Storl and Smair are checking the lava flow," he said.

"I will get them, Chief Scientist." Seval left, walking rapidly.

The other men began to reappear, accompanied by their wives. The women all walked a little way behind their husbands, Kirk noticed, and wondered why; T'Pau of Vulcan was a woman, admittedly a rather elderly one, yet she was of considerable importance on her planet, and men obeyed her - and this was definitely at variance with the behaviour of the women he had seen so far here. But even as he wondered, he realised that he was unlikely ever to find out the reason for this apparent paradox.

He noticed his acquaintance T'Par arrive, and smiled at her in greeting; but he had seen enough of these peculiarly unemotional Vulcans to be unsurprised when she failed to smile in return, although a slight inclination of her head seemed to indicate an acknowledgement of his courtesy. Just behind her came his other acquaintance, T'Prell, but he didn't feel he knew her enough to make a greeting necessary. He pulled out his communicator.

"Kirk to Enterprise."

"Enterprise. Wood here."

"The Vulcans here do require a pick-up, Mr. Wood. Seven married couples and five single men. Ready to start beaming up in five minutes. Kirk out."

He replaced his communicator at his belt, fully aware that he didn't need to spell out his crew's orders. His First Officer would already be arranging for quarters to be made ready for the unexpected passengers; Uhura would already be notifying Vulcan that their research personnel were being lifted. It was very pleasant to have a completely competent crew, he reflected; and for a fleeting moment he compared his present crew with the one he had inherited on his first command, a small survey class vessel, and shuddered mentally at the comparison. Oh, he had licked them into shape, but it had taken some months, and until he had done so, he had had to specify every exact detail of what he wanted done. Though he still felt a certain sense of achievement at the way in which he had eventually welded that crew together, and he still remembered with considerable satisfaction the first time a member of that crew had managed to fulfil an order in all respects without first having it detailed.

He indicated to the Vulcans where they should stand. His first impulse had been the almost instinctive Human one to send the women up first; then he realised that it might be against Vulcan ethics to do so, and instead decided to send up three married couples. And it seemed, as the first six shimmered into invisibility, that he had made the right decision, for he could read no disapproval in the attitudes of the remaining Vulcans - for what that was worth. Though he was aware that he had indulged in some slight favouritism, for he had picked T'Par and T'Prell to go up in the first contingent.

He indicated that six more take their places. As these also vanished, Seval returned with the other two men. There were now eight of them left on the satellite; a married couple, four single men, the Chief Scientist and himself. He guessed that the Chief Scientist would expect to be left till last, and motioned the others into place.

As they also disappeared, Spock said quietly, "Captain Kirk, would you be good enough to leave me a communicating device when you return to your vessel? There are one or two machines whose results cannot be picked up on your ship's sensors, excellent though I know them to be. I will remain and communicate the readings to your ship, if you would add to your goodness by permitting Seval to receive them."

Kirk stared at the Chief Scientist with respect mixed with a little irritation.

"Sir, you are the leader of your group. That you are so although you are for from being the oldest member of the group tells me that you must be extremely capable. You must know that if you do this, you will probably die - have you thought what a waste that would be? What a loss to Vulcan science? This may be a thing that won't be repeated for millennia, but is it worth the loss to science of your brain? Your ability?"

Spock was silent for a moment. It seemed, almost, as if he was attempting to formulate his thoughts..

"Captain... I do not intend to commit suicide. Such an act would indeed be illogical. But the importance to science of this information is unmeasurable. As much of it as is at all possible must be collected. I will call for... rescue... before it is too late."

The communicator bleeped. Kirk pulled it out. "Kirk here."

"Standing by to beam you and the last scientist aboard, Captain." It was Scotty's voice. Kirk smiled affectionately to himself. Trust the Chief Engineer to take charge of this beam-up, as if he didn't trust Kyle!

"Continue standing by, Scotty."

"Aye, sir."

Kirk returned his attention to the Vulcan.

"Chief Scientist Spock. You will be busy. How will you know that the moment has come to call for beam-up? Will you not be too engrossed in what you are doing?"

"It... is possible," Spock conceded.

"All right, then. I'll stay here with you. You monitor the readings, and signal them to the ship. I'll watch out for the signs that tell us when to go - you can tell me what they will be?"

"Yes, I can tell you... but Captain, it is too dangerous. You are important to your vessel - "

"No more dangerous for me than it is for you. And you are as important to Vulcan, and to science, as I am to the ship." He flicked open his communicator again. "Kirk to Enterprise."

"Enterprise. Scott here."

"Scotty, beam down a communicator. Get Lieutenant Uhura to relay communications from the Chief Scientist to Scientist Seval, and allow one of the other scientists access to the bridge sensors so that they can complete as much as possible additional fact-finding before we leave. I'll have a communicator open as well; keep the transporter beams locked onto our signals, and stand by to beam us up the moment I give the word; the Chief Scientist and I are staying here to collect additional data."

"Captain - is that wise? We don't know if the ship'll stand up to the altered gravitational stresses as the satellite breaks up; we'd be better further away."

"Go out to maximum transporter range; that'll help. And be ready to veer away as soon as we're aboard."

"But Captain... Aye, sir."

A violent tremor shook the station; Kirk staggered and caught at a table to steady himself. Not long now, he thought; the tremors had been increasing in violence and frequency over the last three hours, since not long after Spock had begun his steady readout. The Chief Scientist had continued to relay the readings regardless of these same tremors; but Kirk was beginning to feel that they dared not wait much longer. The only thing that had kept him from yelling for pick-up fully an hour ago was the Vulcan's calm - and the illogical desire to have Spock think well of him. He didn't want the Vulcan to think him a coward, he reflected, and wondered why. He listened to the quiet voice, a little hoarse now after talking non-stop for so long, and found its deep tone soothing. Another tremor shook them; Spock glanced up, his attention attracted at last.

"It's getting lively," Kirk said. Somehow he managed to speak lightly, and wondered where his courage was coming from - or his foolhardiness. Every instinct bade him get out of here.

Spock nodded. "I think we dare not remain for much longer," he agreed.

"How are the readings going?"

"They also are... getting lively," Spock said, and wondered at his choice of phrase. The Human's courage was infectious, he reflected; if he had remained here by himself, he would have given up at least an hour ago, with consequent loss of much valuable data. He did not consider himself cowardly, but as he had said, suicide was illogical. And he found himself wanting to survive. But he could not - would not - show himself as being less brave than this Starship Captain. It was not logical, but he wanted to show himself worthy of the Human's courage. He had already realised that he would like to see more of Captain Kirk once they were safely on board the ship - if the Captain could spare the time. He had little idea of the intensity of duties of such a position; and he reflected that it was the first time in his life that he had wanted the company of any one specific person. And he found himself being distracted from his immediate work by wondering why he should feel this way.

With a mental effort he returned to his monotonous readout. Another tremor shook them; Kirk lost his balance and fell, while Spock only saved himself by hanging onto the table; then, seeing that Kirk had hit his head off something as he fell and was bleeding, Spock moved to him, crawling because of the continuance of the tremors - a long series of them, gradually getting stronger.

Kirk touched his hand to his head and looked at the blood that stained his fingers as Spock reached him.

"Are you all right?" the Vulcan asked.

Kirk nodded. "A gash - nothing serious."

"We'd better go," Spock went on.

"Your data?"

"Near enough complete." He had to raise his voice. The rumbling from the ground was getting louder. "It's too dangerous to stay longer; you are hurt already; next time might be fatal. It was an earthquake like this that killed T'Pring - the ground just opened and swallowed her along with half the radio hut. It might do the same to us if we wait longer."

Kirk nodded. Courage was one thing, he reflected; foolhardiness quite another - and he was already guilty of a degree of the latter. Wisdom had dictated a retreat quite some time ago. The Vulcan was braver than he, too; often it showed greater courage to give up than to go on. He raised the communicator.

"Kirk to Enterprise. Beam us up."

The beams caught them; they dematerialised, leaving the station deserted.

Tremors shook the station for several minutes after they left; then a split, similar to the one that had swallowed T'Pring opened to one side of the encampment, but it was a deeper fissure. Much deeper. Lava welled sluggishly from it; the huts nearest caught fire, the flames leaping high. The wind, which had been rising steadily even although the two men had not been aware of it - the sound of the nearby volcano and the grinding of the almost continuous earthquakes had disguised the sound of it - caught at the flames. Sparks flew, igniting another of the huts.

A herd of terrified herbivores, caught between forces they could not understand, shied away from their panic-stricken stampede close to the camp as they tried to escape from the noise and the glare of the lava, additionally frightened by the flames from the burning huts, and vanished into the distance. But there was no safety for them anywhere now.

The tremors increased in frequency, in strength; then, with deafening report - had there been anyone to hear it - the satellite exploded into fragments, some fairly large, but mostly fairly small. The atmosphere vanished, dissipated almost immediately as the gravitational pull of the satellite decreased virtually instantaneously; the flames went out, the lava cooled with frightening rapidity in the new, airless conditions. On some of the larger specks of rock that now littered the area lay the bodies of animals, killed instantly by the shock; on others, a few plants still lived - for a little while; lichens and algae for the most part. All had been instantly frozen in the sudden cold of airless space.

On the planet below, earthquakes also shook the ground, but their effects were less noticeably spectacular. A great tidal wave dashed across the oceans of liquid methane, flooding low-lying areas of the infant continents; but since there was no life there, the damage done was virtually negligible. The distant, lesser moon lurched in its orbit as the attraction of the larger satellite altered so abruptly, but the pull from the planet was sufficient to keep it a prisoner even although its distance from its primary did increase.

The two men materialised on the Enterprise; Kirk grinned at the Vulcan, aware of a certain sense of triumph.

"You should get your ship's doctor to see to your head, Captain, as soon as possible," Spock murmured.

"It'll be all right," Kirk protested.

"Captain, I insist," Spock said.

Why should he, Kirk thought; then smiled to himself. This solicitude - and on the part of a Vulcan, too - was strangely welcome.

"I'll take you up to the bridge first," he said. "You'll be able to see the end of the satellite on the viewscreen as well as get the final readings on the sensors. Then I'll go and get my head seen to."

He turned to Scotty, standing at the-control console. "Are we headed away from Zaynol yet, Scotty?"

"Aye, sir. Mr. Wood ordered the change of course as soon as he knew we had you fixed in the transporter beam."

Kirk nodded. He hadn't really expected anything else. Wood was a good second-in-command. It was just a pity that, although they got on well enough together, they were not, and never could be, friends.

He shook off the momentary sense of desolation and loneliness that was so familiar to him, and turned towards the door.

"This way, sir."

On the bridge, Sorel was bent over the sensor, his face strangely tense for a Vulcan. Kirk glanced at the viewscreen. Under extreme magnification, it was possible to see the huge lava beds that now covered much of the doomed world. As Spock moved to Sorel's side, his underling made way for him. He stared, fascinated, as the readings came in.

"Look at that!" Sulu breathed.

Spock glanced round from the sensor. Everyone - even Sorel - was staring at the screen.

It showed the globe disintegrating. Great lumps of matter seemed to be coming up at them like missiles determined to destroy them.

The Enterprise tossed wildly, caught in the altering gravitational pull. Kirk was sent flying again; Sorel landed beside him. Spock, at the library computer, grasped the edge of the console and managed to retain his position; Sulu, at the helm, struggled to regain control. Gradually, the ship steadied as the new gravitational stresses consolidated.

"In new orbit outside the asteroid belt, Captain," Sulu announced.

Kirk scrambled to his feet, then realised that Sorel was still lying there. He bent over him; Spock moved to his side.

The hurt Vulcan didn't move; Kirk glanced at Uhura. "Lieutenant, call Dr. McCoy to the bridge."

"Aye, sir." She swung round to her console.

Spock said quietly, "Sorel is dead, Captain. His neck is broken."

Kirk stared at him, slightly shocked at the even quality in the scientist's voice. This had been one of the Chief Scientist's men; surely he cared about losing one of his men, even if he had not been particularly friendly with the man?

Spock gave no indication that he even noticed Kirk's scrutiny as he continued, "However, your doctor can now attend to your head, Captain. His trip to the bridge will not be wasted."

Kirk couldn't restrain himself. "Don't you care about your man, Chief Scientist?"

"My solicitude, or lack of it, will not aid him now, Captain," Spock said evenly.

Kirk frowned, honestly trying to understand the Vulcan's attitude. He had enough non-Terran crewmen aboard to know that different cultures reacted in different ways to the same stimuli; but none of his crew showed the apparent callousness in the face of the death of someone they knew. Nor had he ever served with a Vulcan; although he had heard of their lack of emotional display, he still had no idea as to whether this reaction was personal to the Chief Scientist or Vulcan in general.

Something of his confusion must have showed in his face, for Spock, rather to his surprise, said softly, "We Vulcans grieve for our dead; but our grief is a personal thing, Captain. We see no good reason to inflict our sorrow on others."

Spock had spoken so quietly that Kirk knew that no-one else on the bridge could possibly have heard him. The realisation that the Vulcan had chosen to make him the recipient of a confidence was flattering; he replied, equally quietly.

"I understand, sir. My last question was impertinent; I apologise for it."

"It is forgotten, Captain. But I took no offence; you spoke from ignorance."

The elevator door sliding open to admit McCoy was something of a relief to Kirk, who was beginning to feel slightly embarrassed by the Vulcan's honesty - an honesty, he was sure, that was rarely shown to aliens. Kirk had a feeling that Spock would have left most men thinking that he was callous; would have ignored the shocked reaction of outsiders.

McCoy moved straight to Sorel. He moved his scanner over him and looked up at Spock. "He's dead, I'm afraid," he said.

Spock nodded. "I knew, Doctor. But Captain Kirk has injured his head; it requires attention."

McCoy frowned a little at Spock's calm acceptance of the death as he turned to Kirk. "Let me see, Jim."

"It's nothing much, Bones. The Chief Scientist is being too - "

"Too nothing, Jim. When did you do this?"

"On the satellite, just before we beamed up."

"Hmm. Then why is it still bleeding?"

Kirk hesitated, unsure of the answer; Spock spoke, still quietly. "The Captain hurt his head again when he was thrown off-balance by the turbulence following the satellite's disintegration."

"I see." McCoy gave his attention to the cut, adding, "Have you a headache, Jim?"

"Not really," Kirk replied off-handedly.

"That means you do," McCoy commented dryly. He knew Kirk's hatred of giving in to bodily discomfort. "Come on down to sickbay and I'll give you something for it." He glanced at Sorel's body. "Lieutenant Uhura, call sickbay and get them to send up a stretcher for - " he hesitated as he realised he didn't know the victim's name, and finished - "our casualty."

"Yes, Doctor."

"May I remain here to continue observations on the debris, Captain?" Spock asked.

"Yes, if you want," Kirk answered. "I'll be back shortly; when you're ready to go to your quarters, just tell me."

"I will, Captain." Spock bent over the sensors at the library computer, somehow looking completely at home as he did so. Wood moved from beside his station to the command chair as Kirk followed McCoy out.

In the privacy of the elevator, McCoy looked quizzically at Kirk.

"He's a queer fish, isn't he?"

"Have you ever known any Vulcans, Bones?" Kirk asked in reply.

"No... but I've heard a bit about them - and of course we had to learn a little about their basic biology before passing to practice space medicine. Some Vulcan psychology was thrown in. They don't believe in emotion. I didn't quite believe it until now. O.K., so the dead man was just one of his men - not necessarily a friend. But all good leaders feel something when one of their men dies. Only that one didn't... "

"Maybe he did but had too much pride to let it show," Kirk suggested. It was the nearest he could come to defending the Vulcan without betraying Spock's confidence.

McCoy gave a derisory grunt, then added, "But he did surprise me, just the same. After being so cold-blooded about his man dying, he was positively solicitous about you."

"I know," Kirk admitted.

"And that doesn't match up with any Vulcan behaviour pattern we were given."

"What would?" Kirk asked curiously.

"From what we were told, they're quite liable to ignore any personal injuries; so I suppose they would tend to ignore injuries in anyone else too."

Kirk was conscious of another surge of pleasure, and wondered why, even as he wondered at Spock's concern.

"Perhaps he just thinks I'm important to the ship so I must get proper treatment for even minor injuries," Kirk suggested.

"Yes, that would be within the bounds of possibility for a Vulcan's reactions," McCoy conceded.

"You know, Bones, I like him," Kirk went on as the elevator door slid open to permit them access to the corridor.

McCoy sighed. "Well, you've seen a little more of him than I have, staying down there for so long. I don't know whether I like him or not. I do know that I didn't like his reaction to his man's death."

"Sorel," Kirk said.

"Sorel, then. Now he's staying up there to keep on studying the debris. And do you know something, Jim?" he added as they turned into sickbay. "I got a list of the personnel on that research station so that I could check them all out - living down there these last few days must have been quite a strain even for Vulcans, and I wanted to get their normal readings - and there's one missing. One of the women... "

"Yes, he said something about the radio operator being killed when the beacon was destroyed - fell down a crack in the ground during an earthquake," Kirk remembered.

"Well, do you know who that woman was?" He waited a moment, then went on when he received no reply. "His wife, Jim. That's who it was. His wife. And he's up there recording data as if... as if nothing had happened!"

"He could feel that her death would be... would be wasted if he failed to gather as much data as possible," Kirk offered.

"Jim, could you behave like that if it was your wife that had died like that?"

Kirk considered. He thought over the two or three girls he had ever been attracted to; and grunted. "No, probably not," he admitted. "But then, I'm not a Vulcan. Bones, you know different, races react different ways - "

"But all other known races show grief at the death of someone close."

"Bones, you just told me that according to your lectures, Vulcans don't believe in emotion. You can't expect a Vulcan to react as we would."

"Jim, the Chief Scientist is only half Vulcan. According to his medical record, his mother is Human. You can't expect a hybrid to behave according to the normal pattern of either of his parental races."

"To have been selected as head of this particular research, he must be highly thought of on Vulcan. So he must be considered as being Vulcan. He certainly seems to think of himself as being Vulcan."

"What he thinks of himself as being and what he is aren't necessarily the same thing."

Kirk thought about the Chief Scientist for a moment. At last he said, "Bones... wait until you've seen a little more of him before you judge him - please?"

"I don't suppose I'll see enough of him to let me form a proper opinion; he won't be that long aboard, will he?" He reached into his medical cabinet for the bottle of headache pills. "But I'll try, Jim."

"I've a feeling he might be aboard for longer than you think, Bones; unless we get orders to the contrary, we have to complete our assigned mission before we head back to Vulcan with the scientists - and there's no saying how long it'll take us. Even though it's supposed to be straightforward, a trinary system is bound to give us some surprises. And if it should turn out to have planets... "

McCoy grimaced as he handed Kirk a couple of pills. "It beats me why they don't give these jobs to the survey boys. After all, that sort of thing's meant to be their pigeon."

"We do have more facilities, Bones. A survey ship just isn't big enough to cope with the gravitational stresses in such a system, anyway. It has to be a Starship." He grinned. "Just thank your lucky star that we don't have to do the other two systems as well." He took the glass of water McCoy offered him and swallowed the pills.

"I do," McCoy assured him fervently. Then he chuckled suddenly. "Jim."

"Yes?"

"Think how Vaz will react to having these Vulcan scientists on board."

Kirk thought - and shuddered. "Bones, that's not funny."

"You think not? Personally, I'm going to enjoy watching him trying to pick a quarrel with one of them."

In spite of himself, Kirk grinned. It was true, it would be quite amusing seeing the Tellarite Science Officer, who was well-known throughout the ship for the phenomenal shortness of his temper, failing to win any response from the Vulcans. But it would also make him abominably difficult to live with - more difficult than usual, Kirk corrected himself. Vaz was never easy to live with. Kirk knew well that Vaz was the reason for the large turn-over in staff in the science section of the ship - the only section of the ship with much in the way of turn-over. Most of the crew were more than happy to remain on the Enterprise; it was a taut ship, and a happy one - unlike one that Kirk had served aboard as an Ensign; it had been a taut ship, but a desperately unhappy one. Occasionally Kirk toyed with the notion of recommending Vaz for promotion that would take him off the Enterprise - and at the same time, make him someone else's problem. But the Tellarite was an excellent Science Officer. Kirk had no guarantee that a replacement would be half as efficient, or any easier to get on with. And it seemed too like giving up on the man, anyway. Kirk hadn't lost hope of understanding what made the Tellarite tick - not quite. But in his more pessimistic moments, he doubted if Vaz himself knew what made him tick.

Chief Scientist Spock was still bent over the sensors when Kirk returned to the bridge. Wood began to get up, but Kirk waved him back.

"Carry on, Mr. Wood." He crossed to stand beside Spock. The Vulcan - no, correct that, he thought, half-Vulcan - seemed totally intent on what he was studying. However, he looked round after a moment, apparently becoming aware of the Captain's presence.

"Captain Kirk," he said, acknowledging the Human. His gaze drifted to the dressing on Kirk's head. "How does your head feel?"

"I think it'll stay on," Kirk replied lightly, then realised that the Vulcan probably wouldn't understand a facetious answer. "It's fine, thanks. How is your data-collecting going?"

"Excellently, Captain. Everything appears to be settling down steadily into the new gravitational pattern."

"Then unless you want to continue monitoring for a little longer, I suggest you let someone else take over and come down to your quarters, get a meal and a rest. You've had a pretty busy day."

"You are considerate, Captain. However, we Vulcans do not feel fatigue in the way that you Humans do. I am perfectly capable of continuing for quite some time."

It was like a slap in the face. "If you prefer to continue, sir, there is no more to be said. When you are ready, I will have you guided to your quarters."

Kirk couldn't understand why he felt so hurt. The Vulcan had made a perfectly polite statement, a perfectly matter-of-fact statement. So why should he have taken it as sounding like a personal insult? A brush-off?

"I didn't say that, Captain. I said I am capable of continuing, not that I want to continue. I would be honoured if you would direct me to my quarters."

Was the Vulcan being tactful or sincere, Kirk wondered briefly as Spock turned to accompany him into the elevator. The Captain surveyed the men on the bridge, selected the navigator.

"Mr. Chekov, continue monitoring the Lambda Pegasi system. If anything interesting does show up, call the Chief Scientist."

"Aye, sir." Chekov moved up to the sensor, bent over it.

"He's a capable officer," Kirk assured Spock as they entered the elevator. "If he reports no major change, you can be sure there's been none."

"Thank you, Captain. As I said, you are indeed considerate." They fell silent as the elevator descended. It was one of those moments that could be very embarrassing, when neither of them could think of anything to say; and they did not know each other well enough yet to be comfortable with a silence.

Kirk broke the silence abruptly as the doors slid open. He didn't mean to sound intrusive, but even as he spoke he realised that his question must sound that way to the self-possessed Vulcan. And it must surely have been a difficult question for him to consider yet retain his self-control.

"I heard - it was your wife who died?" It was his tone that made it a question.

"Yes, Captain."

"I'm... sorry."

"These things happen." He hesitated as if considering another confidence, but if that was in fact what he was debating, he changed his mind about uttering it. Instead, he said simply, "Her death was quick, Captain. She did not suffer."

"What about Sorel? Was he married?" Apart from the two women, Kirk couldn't remember the faces clearly; he couldn't remember which men had been accompanied by woman when they beamed up.

"No," Spock replied. "He was one of the four who was not bonded."

Kirk stopped at a door. "These are your quarters, sir." He led the way in, showed the scientist the reading screen, the intercom and how to operate them. "Would you rather eat here, or will I show you the way to the mess?" he added.

"Are you also eating, Captain?"

"I think so," Kirk said. "I don't think I'll be needed on the bridge, but if I am, they'll call me."

"May I join you, then?"

"Certainly; if you want. I'll be glad of your company."

As they went, Spock said, "Do many new crewmen get lost during their first days aboard?"

Kirk chuckled. "It has been known to happen. Mostly as a result of a new man being hazed, though, rather than by accident."

"Hazed?"

"Having his leg pulled by the old hands..." He saw that Spock still didn't understand, and thought for a non-colloquial way of putting it. "Sometimes the old established crew play practical jokes on new men. It's a way of seeing what they're like. Giving them wrong directions to get somewhere is a fairly common way of doing that. We call that 'hazing' them. If they take it well - laugh it off, maybe try to play some sort of trick back - then they're accepted. If they get annoyed, they're quite likely to get jokes played on them all the time, and they never really are accepted. But men like that don't often pass the psychological tests."

"I see - I think." Spock sounded a little uncertain.

"There are exceptions, of course. My Science Officer, for example. He's a Tellarite."

"I have heard that Tellarites are best known for their extreme readiness to take offence."

"You could put it that way. Vaz is quick-tempered, even for a Tellarite. He is also very jealous of his position as Science Officer. Even though you are all civilians, he will inevitably see you as threats to his position. He will try to pick a quarrel with you - or if not you personally, with one or more of your staff. I've never worked with a Vulcan, but I have heard a little about your race. I'm not afraid that you will take offence at what Vaz says, or that you - any of you - would argue back. But - if you would warn your people about Vaz... "

The Chief Scientist's solemn face seemed to lighten for a moment; it looked almost as if he was about to smile but had changed his mind. "I will tell them, Captain; but none of us will quarrel... Captain..."

"Yes?"

"You say he is jealous of his position. Jealousy is foreign to Vulcans; but as I understand the meaning of the word, I thought one would be jealous of another person, not of one's work... You are speaking colloquially again?"

"Well... Yes, I suppose I am. What I mean is, he's afraid that someone else will prove to be more efficient than he is at his work and replace him; or that someone will come along who knows more than he does and make him look ignorant. In actual fact, he's an excellent Science Officer; one of the best in Starfleet. I know that; so should he. But he doesn't seem able to believe it. Just why he should be so unsure of himself, I don't know, and I don't think he does; there's nothing on his psychological profile to indicate why. McCoy thinks that someone might have played a joke on him sometime that misfired; he's very thin-skinned - I mean, it's very easy to offend or insult him without meaning to."

"That must make him very difficult to live with," Spock suggested.

"Very. The junior officers find it worst - " Kirk broke off, suddenly becoming aware that he shouldn't be criticising one of his senior officers so freely in front of someone who was, to all intents, a stranger. He comforted himself by telling himself that it was simply a returned confidence, to match the one the Vulcan had made to him.

"We will be careful, Captain. I would not like to make things difficult for you with any of your officers. That would be a poor return for saving our lives." He hesitated, then added, "I do not anticipate that we will be mixing much with your crew anyway. We still have work to finish, data to correlate..."

"Sir, you may be with us for quite a while. We are on an assigned mission; I can't abandon it without direct orders. We have reported picking you up; but unless we get orders to abort our mission and take you straight to Vulcan, I must continue to Epsilon Equulei, even though there is no urgency about our work there. I don't know how long we'll be there; that depends on what we find. You will have processed all your data long before we leave there."

"Epsilon Equulei? That is a trinary system, is it not, Captain?"

"That's right."

"I would appreciate the opportunity to make some studies there."

"That's exactly what I mean, sir, Mr. Vaz won't like it if you do. Oh, he won't be able to stop you, he hasn't the right. All he can do is protest, and I won't uphold his objections. As far as I'm concerned, if you want to make some studies, you're more than welcome to do so. However, he will try to make life difficult for you."

"But it doesn't matter who makes scientific discoveries; the important thing is that they are made."

"Can you understand wanting the credit for discovering something?" Kirk asked.

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow, considering. "I can understand ambition," he replied at last.

"I wonder," Kirk said as they turned into the mess. He showed the Vulcan the serving hatch and waited while the galley computer produced a meal to suit Vulcan tastes - a slightly longer time then it took to produce his own, a cheese dish rather than a meat one out of deference to what he remembered of Vulcan eating habits. As they went to a table, Kirk went on. "Define ambition."

"Why, the desire to succeed to the limit of one's abilities," Spock answered.

Kirk shook his head. "Not to most races," he said. "To most races, ambition means to rise to as important a position as possible, whether one is capable of holding it or not. For the power it gives. Oh, your definition isn't wholly wrong, many of us are trying to succeed to the limits of- our ability - but altogether too many of us are simply wanting to be important, or to seem important. To have people thinking you're clever, efficient... "

Spock looked slightly shocked. Kirk went on. "...ingenious, good at your work; to have them asking for your advice because they think you know everything..."

"But... but that's... that's illogical." Spock was so startled at the bare possibility of such behaviour in a scientist that his speech showed hesitation that Kirk was certain was completely uncharacteristic.

Kirk shrugged. "You know it; I know it. But by far too many people don't. Vaz... I wouldn't say that Vaz is so fantastically ambitious; he doesn't seem to want to be more than Science Officer on a Starship - but he does want to think that there's no-one who knows more than he does... " He sighed. "If you make your own studies of Epsilon Equulei, he'll be terrified that you find something he's missed."

"He could just as easily find something we miss."

"In which case, none of you will feel aggrieved... and he will feel... triumphant."

Slowly, Spock shook his head. "Try as I may, I cannot understand such an attitude."

Kirk grinned sympathetically. "To tell you the truth, neither can I. I can only appreciate that such an attitude exists."

They ate for a few moments in silence, then Kirk went on. "Well, let's forget about it for the moment. You will want some recreational facilities for your men?"

"We had none on the satellite, Captain. We had our work; that was enough to occupy our time."

"There, yes; but here, once you've finished sorting out your results, won't you need some facilities?"

Spock thought about it for a second. "Not really, Captain. Vulcans find it easy to supply themselves with - with what you would call entertainment. We meet to discuss things; we meditate. We can do these things in our quarters. We do not require to be where we might meet your Mr. Vaz."

"If he wants to meet you - and he will - he's quite capable of going to your quarters to do so - and pick a quarrel. You would find it more difficult to get away from him if he had ensconced himself in your cabin."

"Surely he would not be so discourteous."

"Oh, yes, he would. Tellarites have very little notion of privacy, I've found. Or maybe it's just Vaz; he has none. No, what I was thinking of... do you play chess?"

"Occasionally; when I have the time and the opportunity."

"I was chess champion at the Academy; no-one on the ship plays up to my standard. So I never get a game. Would you care to have a game with me, once you have time? Though I should warn you, I suspect I'm a little out of practise. I might not be up to your standard."

"Thank you, Captain. I would be honoured."

"And the rest of your men. The rec room facilities are open to them, any time they want. There are several chess sets available, and also a number of other games requiring skill rather than chance."

"I will tell them, Captain."

"Hello, Jim - Chief Scientist."

Kirk glanced round. "Hello, Bones." He looked back at Spock. "You haven't had the chance to meet our Chief Medical Officer properly, sir, have you?"

"No, Captain."

"This is Lieutenant-Commander Leonard McCoy; Bones, Chief Scientist Spock." He looked inquiringly at Spock. "I'm sorry, I don't know if you have any other title."

"No, Captain. The equivalent title on Earth might be professor; but since my qualifications are all Vulcan ones, I am not really entitled to use that term."

McCoy grinned. at Spock. He had come, Kirk realised, to make an attempt to follow his request to try for understanding of the Vulcan. "Sir, I've checked out all your men; medically, I mean. When you have time, I'd like to check you as well."

"What for, Doctor?"

"Well, you must have been subjected to considerable radiation, and there's no saying what the changing stresses might have done to upset your metabolism. Jim, I want to check you, too; you had long enough down there, with that volcano spouting away and the earthquakes, to have been affected too. All your men - and women - are perfectly fit, sir," he told Spock. "I've no reason to suspect you won't be. I'm probably worrying about nothing. But that's my job."

"I see. Very well, Doctor; when I have finished my meal, I am at your disposal."

"Thank you, sir." McCoy moved to the hatch, came back with coffee and a sandwich. "May I join you?"

"By all means, Doctor."

"Call me when you've finished with the Chief Scientist, Bones; I'll be on the bridge," Kirk put in.

"Sure, Jim."

"Captain, may I ask - how onerous are your duties?" Spock inquired,

"Mmm. It varies. Just now - not very onerous. I'm on call all the time, of course, but I don't need to be on the bridge much; so it's a good chance for the other senior officers to get the experience of being in the hot seat. Or even for some of the young men; Chekov hopes to go for Command one day - that's the one I left monitoring the Zaynol system for you. I sometimes leave him in command. It's good practise for him; and if he finds the men won't obey him properly, well, now's as good a time as any for him to find out, save him trying for a command he's not fit for. But he is a good man. He'll be a good Captain one day."

"I see. Part of your job, then, is training others to do the same job?"

"Yes - at least, I see it that way. I've known Captains who didn't - ones who were jealous of their positions too."

"You mean afraid to let someone else take command in case that person was better at it than the Captain himself, especially since he was less experienced?"

"Yes, Chief Scientist. That's exactly it."

"I fail to understand, however, how a person with such fears could be promoted to Captain in the first place."

"It's an interesting psychological quirk found in some people, sir," McCoy put in. "They lack self-confidence. No matter how much it is proved to them that they are able, they are still afraid that something will happen to prove otherwise. Some races are more vulnerable to this state than others. Medical science doesn't know why."

"That is not a logical attitude."

"No, it isn't," Kirk agreed.

A buried memory stirred. "Captain - isn't that one of the things Starfleet tests when one applies to join - one's degree of self-confidence?"

"Yes, you're right, Chief Scientist. McCoy could probably explain it better than I can - "

"It's difficult to explain," McCoy said as Spock looked at him. "With some people, lack of confidence only begins to show after they've attained. a certain position. They're all right till they've got there - then they begin to wonder... What happens if I make a mistake? They may even have shown up all right on simulated tests - because the pressure isn't real there. There's even a term for it; we may say they've reached their level of inefficiency; the level beyond which they are no longer capable of operating properly."

Spock looked thoughtfu1. "It is not logical to accept a position one is unable to fill properly," he said disapprovingly.

"Ah, but they think they can - until they're in it," McCoy replied. "And then their pride won't let them admit they can't cope. It's false pride - you could even say it's a form of cowardice - but it's a powerful motivating influence- to certain people."

"I begin to understand. But, Captain - " Spock looked at Kirk. "This does not include your Mr. Vaz?"

"No. He just wants to think he knows everything there is to know," Kirk said.

McCoy glanced at Kirk. "You warned Mr. Spock about Vaz?" Kirk nodded, and McCoy went on, "We think that's his... the reason for his behaviour pattern," he told the Vulcan. "But we can't be sure. Psychological studies of Tellarites are sparse, to say the least - even sparser than on Vulcans," he added wryly.

He finished his coffee on seeing that the others were already finished and waiting for him. Re pushed his cup away. "Well, Mr. Spock - will we go and get that medical over with?"

"If you feel it is really necessary, Doctor."

"I wouldn't be happy if I skipped it

"He means missed doing it, sir," Kirk translated.

Spock's face lightened again for a brief instant. "I believe I did grasp the gist of what he meant, Captain, thank you," he admitted, "But I would appreciate your continuing to translate your Human colloquialisms to me."

They began to move towards the door. They were barely half-way there when it opened to admit a Tellarite and a Human.

The Tellarite took three paces into the room, and stopped, starring at Spock.

"Ah, Mr. Vaz," Kirk said evenly. "Let me introduce Chief Scientist Spock, leader of the Vulcan research group we took off Lambda Pegasi. Sir, this is Lieutenant-Commander Vaz, my Science Officer, and Lieutenant Berkley, his chief assistant."

"I am honoured to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant-Commander. Yours also, Lieutenant."

"Huh!" was Vaz's reply. "I know your kind - insinuating yourself into the Captain's good books already."

Spock's eyebrows shot upwards, almost disappearing into his hairline. Berkley tried to intervene, throwing Spock an apologetic look as he did so.

"Mr. Vaz, the Captain is only being courteous towards a visitor."

"Head of the research station on that moon that disintegrated, eh?" Vaz went on. "I could have found out just as much from a standard orbit, if I'd been given the chance."

"I have no doubt you would have gathered a vast amount of data and correlated it most efficiently," Spock agreed.

Balked, Vaz continued on a slightly different tack. "Captain, I'd like to know why the Vulcans got the opportunity to observe the break-up on the bridge sensors while I did not."

"Mr. Vaz, you've often said you prefer your own sensors in the science department," McCoy snapped. "Can you blame the Captain for taking you at your word?"

"Sir, we can compare the results the Chief Scientist obtained with the ones we did," Berkley put in. "It would make a valuable comparison."

Not for the first time, Kirk found himself admiring Berkley's self-control. He was the only assistant Vaz had had who had been able to stand him for longer than he had to; even though he seemed to spend a great deal of his time calming Vaz down. He was a capable scientist too; even Vaz admitted it. Kirk sometimes wondered what alchemy Berkley possessed that made Vaz accept him. Logically, Vaz should have seen Berkley as a threat to his position.

"I would be happy to show you our results," Spock answered. "I would be most interested to see how they compare with yours." He hesitated, but only briefly, before going on. "You can also, if you wish, see the final results we obtained from the machines on all three bodies during the final hours preceding the disintegration."

"I'm not interested!" Vaz snapped. "Berkley, if you want to waste your time checking the Vulcans' results, you can - as long as your own work doesn't suffer!" He pushed rudely past them, heading for the hatch.

Berkley hesitated, looking at the Vulcan.

"Any time you want, Lieutenant," Spock assured him.

"Thank you, sir." He glanced over at his superior officer. "Mr. Vaz is interested, really. He just likes to pretend he doesn't care." He moved to join Vaz.

"That is the one man aboard who can stand Vaz," McCoy murmured. "And he gets dog's abuse for it."

Kirk glanced sideways at Spock, ready to translate if necessary, but Spock held up his hand. "From Mr. Vaz's attitude, I gather the meaning, Captain." He spoke as quietly as McCoy.

The surgeon looked up from the notes he had been studying. "Well, sir, you seem to be in perfect health," he said. "Your current readings compare favourably with the ones taken before you left Vulcan. In fact, I'd say you're in better health now than you were then; you've lost a fractional hormone imbalance you had." Spock's eyebrows lifted.

"May I go now?"

"Yes. Think you can find your way back to your quarters?"

"Vulcans have a perfect sense of direction, Doctor. We do not readily 'get lost' - although it can happen to someone who has suffered a head injury. I understand, however, that it frequently happens to members of other races."

"Well, most of the corridors look awfully alike till you're used to them," McCoy said.

"There are subtle differences that a discerning eye can detect."

"Well, you're never likely to fall into Vaz's fault," McCoy commented. "You're too sure of yourself for words!"

"It is not logical to refuse to accept the truth," Spock replied. "It is a well-known fact that Vulcans have the keenest and most discerning eyesight of any race in the Federation."

McCoy took a deep breath, struggling for self-control. "Sir, to you that statement may seem like stating a fact; but to Humans, it makes you sound..." He tried to find a word that avoided being in any way colloquial. "Conceited."

"Conceit is an emotion, Doctor. Vulcans are not capable of feeling conceit."

"I didn't say you were, I said it made you sound it," McCoy retorted. "Sir."

One eyebrow lifted. "Interesting, Doctor. Do I understand that you reject the emotion of conceit as being undesirable?"

McCoy stared at him. "Well... yes, I suppose I do. We - Humans that is - don't like conceited persons." He regained control of his too-ready temper. "We call them big-headed - or stuck-up. Neither term is complimentary."

"My knowledge of Human colloquialisms is increasing rapidly, Doctor. Thank you. And - I believe there is hope for your race yet."

Before McCoy could reply, Spock turned towards the door. McCoy watched him go, then flicked on the intercom.

"McCoy to bridge. Jim, you can come for your check-up any time."

"O.K., Bones; on my way."

Kirk also checked out perfectly normal; he pulled his shirt back on as McCoy finished logging the fact.

"I still think Spock's a queer fish, Jim," he said abruptly. Kirk looked a little surprised.

"I thought you were starting to get on fine with him."

"I didn't say I wasn't. But I came near to losing my temper with him just now - and it wasn't really his fault."

"Oh?"

"It's a matter of different... values, I suppose. What he calls a statement of fact about Vulcans, I'd call big-headed. He's..." he hesitated.

"Chauvinistically orientated towards Vulcan?"

"Well... yes."

"I suppose most of us tend to be orientated towards the values of our own race. It's natural."

"I know it is. That's what I meant - it wasn't his fault he annoyed me. He just did. Even though - basically - I don't dislike him. Just his attitude."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know. Gone to his quarters, probably. Or maybe gone to see how his men are settling in. I asked if he knew the way back to his cabin, and he said he did."

Spock had indeed found his way back to his cabin, and without any difficulty. He glanced round it, seeing it properly this time. It was a bare, not very welcoming little room; but to Spock, the bareness was not discouraging. Indeed, it was almost preferable to the clutter of hangings T'Pring had thought necessary - no, correct that, he thought charitably. The clutter of hangings she had been taught were necessary, either to rest the eye or stimulate the mind. It was not T'Pring's fault that her mother was so lacking in mental resources that she assumed everyone else was too; it was not T'Pring's fault that she had been taught to assume it too. It was, perhaps, her father's fault, a little, that he had not interfered to help his daughter... or was he content with his wife? Certainly it would have been against custom for him to have interfered; on Vulcan, a son was his father's child, a girl, her mother's, to be taught the ways of their people. He made his way through to the sleeping area, looking round approvingly. Everything that was needed was there; but there were no unnecessary trimmings. Practical.

He shivered. This was one thing he had noticed about the ship - the temperature was rather lower than he was accustomed to. It wasn't unbearably chilly - but here, in his quarters, he would prefer that one comfort. He noticed a thermostat on the wall. Yes, he could raise the temperature. He did so.

How were his men settling in? Perhaps he had better go and see... He hesitated to bother the Captain with so slight an inquiry as to their whereabouts, but ... The intercom!

He flicked it on. After all, surely the Captain wouldn't have shown him its operation, simple as it was, unless he meant him to use it?

"This is Chief Scientist Spock. Will my men report their whereabouts to me."

He had only a few seconds to wait, then the voices came, giving their room numbers. All on the same level as this one, he noted. He switched off, and went to see his men.

He found Seval first. His assistant was already - or still - buried deep in calculations, but raised his head when Spock knocked and entered. The room was comfortably warm; it seemed that Seval also had made use of the thermostat. "How is it going?" Spock asked.

"We have data on practically everything. We lost only a few moments between the time you came on board and the actual disintegration, and what happened then can be extrapolated. There is still a vast amount of work to be done on the data; it will be many years before everything is fully integrated - "

"Our primary duty is to tabulate everything, correlated where possible; we are not required to do anything more than that. That is someone else's privilege."

"Of course, Chief Scientist. I am permitting myself to be carried away with the intoxication of our discoveries."

"Understandable. Has any fresh data been relayed from the bridge?"

"No, Chief Scientist."

"In that case, I imagine there will be no more."

"But who is monitoring? I understood Sorel died, and the remainder of our men are occupied here, in their quarters."

"One of the Enterprise's junior officers, Seval. Captain Kirk assures me, a competent observer."

Seval looked a little doubtful. Spock studied him gravely. "Seval, do you believe that only Vulcans are competent?"

"Why, no, Chief Scientist."

"Why then do you appear to distrust this young man's efficiency?"

"I would have thought a senior officer, for something of this importance..."

"Seval, to Captain Kirk, this event is undoubtedly of little more than passing interest, important though it may be to science. He has other things to think about; other duties to attend to.

"It was generous of him to think of taking any officer, even a junior one, from his other work to continue monitoring just in case there might be any change while we are still in scanner range of Zaynol."

"Yes, Chief Scientist."

"The assistant to the Science Officer on the Enterprise is wanting to compare the data his department compiled in the final hours with ours. It could be a valuable study. Who is most easily spared from his work to assist with this comparison? I do want one of our men there."

Seval frowned thoughtfully for a moment. "Sisal, Chief Scientist. He had no further data to collect once the satellite broke up, since all life on it ceased instantly on disintegration."

"Sisal, then."

"Chief Scientist."

"Yes?"

"The assistant to the Science Officer? Not the Science Officer himself?"

"That is correct, Seval. The Science Officer is a Tellarite, and most uncooperative. The Captain assures me that Mr. Vaz will attempt to pick a quarrel with our men, for no reason. I have met Mr. Vaz, and I am convinced. that the Captain is correct. He tried to quarrel with me; when I failed to respond, he turned on the Captain with a petty complaint, easily refuted. But his assistant, a Human - Lieutenant Berkley - told me that he is interested in our work, he just refuses to admit he is. It seems illogical, but who expects logic from a Tellarite? I believe that if we co-operate with Mr. Berkley, Mr. Vaz will not remain aloof. From what Captain Kirk said, Mr. Vaz does not readily accept the fact of someone knowing more about a subject than he does. So his pride will not allow him to continue to feign uninterest. He will surely want to learn as much as he can."

"I am not certain that I understand, Chief Scientist."

"What do you not understand, Seval? The fact, or the motivation?"

"His motivation, Chief Scientist."

"Nor do I, Seval; and according to Captain Kirk, neither does Mr. Vaz himself, illogical though that may sound. I have promised Captain Kirk that we will avoid quarrelling with Mr. Vaz - all you have to remember is that when he sees you, he will in all probability begin to insult you."

"For no reason?"

"For no obvious reason. We reply courteously."

"Of course, Chief Scientist."

"One other thing.. Captain Kirk has made us free of the recreational facilities on the ship. Apparently there are chess sets available, some other games of skill in addition, and he says we are welcome to use them."

"Will we have the time?"

"Apparently we will. The ship is on course for Epsilon Equulei - "

"A trinary system!" Seval breathed.

" - and failing orders to return to Vulcan with us, he is continuing on his way there."

"Will we be permitted to make studies?"

"Yes."

"How long will we be there?"

"It seems that that depends on what is found. Again, Mr. Vaz apparently will not like us making independent investigations, but Captain Kirk has already said that he will not uphold Mr. Vaz's objections. We will be free to follow whatever line of investigation we choose."

Spock turned and left, leaving Seval staring after him with an expression of as near joy as a Vulcan could ever come, and made his way to the next room.

When he had seen all his men, and given Sisal his instructions for working with Berkley, as well as warning them all about Vaz and passing on the invitation for them to use the recreational facilities, he made his way back to his own quarters.

He sat down, allowing his mind to sink into the state of half-awareness that, for a Vulcan, frequently took the place of sleep.

In this state, it was possible for him to think about something that normally he would have brushed aside as being irrelevant; and he often found that his thoughts during this time achieved a relevance he had not expected. Now, in privacy for the first time since leaving Zaynol's satellite - no, for the first time since leaving Vulcan; T'Pring's presence had not been intrusive, exactly, but he had been unable to forget that she was there - he had peace to allow his mind to consider... whatever it chose to consider. It was not meditation, but something that was at the same time both more than meditation and less. One thing he had learned long ago; it was an ability personal to himself. Full-blooded Vulcans lacked it. It was a benefit of his Human blood; the only benefit, he sometimes thought, remembering schoolday mockery. But it had been responsible for several of the results he had achieved; the results that had resulted in his promotion, at such an early age, to Chief Scientist. He was grateful for it.

An interesting man, Captain Kirk... why had he offered to stay with him? And why was he being so helpful? That was not the normal behaviour pattern he had been told to expect from Humans... Why was he, himself, intending to accept the offer of a game of chess, and already anticipating seeing the Captain again? Could it be that he felt... friendship... towards him?

Friendship.

It was something he had never known. He had never felt the need for another person's presence; indeed, he had often regarded the presence of another person - even T'Pring, even his parents - as an intrusion on his privacy. He hoped he would give a good account of himself in the chess game - normally he played only against a computer, a completely different thing to having a live opponent. It was not necessary to win, of course; it was only necessary to play well. Strange... when the Captain had given the invitation, although he had accepted, he had really planned to make pressure of work an excuse for avoiding a match. Now he knew that, without realising it, he had changed his mind. Or had he? Had he really meant, all along, to accept the Captain's... friendship? And why had he asked to accompany the Captain at his meal? He had enjoyed the conversation... Was this friendship?

And the Doctor... he had been... not insulting, exactly, but... obliquely uncomplimentary. Yet he had not given the same offence that Vaz had done. Yes, he would like to see more of the Doctor as well.

What of Vaz? Well, Vaz was an enigma. His people were beyond the comprehension of any Vulcan. His father had met one or two Tellarite ambassadors... Gav, wasn't it? short-tempered, and not one to forget a defeat. All they could do was try to ignore Vaz's insults, reply politely, helpfully if possible, and keep out of his way as much as they could.

Would Vulcan permit the Enterprise to continue on her present course? The Vulcan High Council was very important in the Federation... Perhaps they should send their tabulated results off as quickly as possible, keep nothing about Zaynol's moon here to work on; then there would be no excuse for the High Council to recall them, especially as they would be able to make further studies if they went on. It would be interesting to study a trinary system, with its complicated interplay of gravitational forces. It would be pleasant to have the extra time to see more of the Captain...

The ship was not recalled.

The Vulcans quickly settled down to life on board. They frequently mixed with the crew in the rec rooms, and several of them, following the example of their Chief Scientist, challenged Humans at chess; and before long, a Human-Vulcan chess match was in progress; one that gave every indication of being long-drawn-out, with ten men on each side, each playing the best of three games against each of the members of the other team.

Spock and Kirk watched the fraternisation contentedly. They themselves took no part in this competition, but their own personal competition had become a nightly affair, with games often lasting two or three nights. And afterwards, they developed the habit of sitting talking after most of the crew had gone, late into the ship's night. Often McCoy joined them. Their conversations ranged far and wide; they spoke of Earth, of Vulcan; of other planets they had seen. Spock felt at a disadvantage there, for he had been so seldom off Vulcan; but he soon found he enjoyed listening, hearing about the planets the others had visited. They spoke of their beliefs and philosophies, Spock with a candour that surprised himself; they discussed the philosophies found on other worlds. And occasionally, when McCoy wasn't there, Kirk and Spock would sit quietly as it grew late, strangely unwilling to separate, in a comfortable silence.

This was friendship, Spock decided after one of these evenings, and wondered that, of all the people he had ever known, the one he should be drawn to should be a Human that he was never likely to see again. No, two Humans, for he liked McCoy's company too, and he was fairly sure that McCoy liked his - or why come and join them? He knew that Kirk and McCoy were friends, and McCoy seemed to treat him, Spock, in much the same way that he did Kirk.

A Human saying he had heard once came back into his mind, unbidden. 'Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.' At the time, it had struck him as stupid; now, he understood. It would have been terrible to have missed the experience of friendship, even though they would, too soon, have to bid each other farewell. And he faced unflinchingly the thought of the loneliness that would then, again, be his.

For his part, Kirk managed to put out of his mind the fact that eventually the Vulcan would return to his own environment. At first he hadn't been too sure of how Spock felt towards him; but now he was certain that, little as it showed, the Chief Scientist thought of him as a friend. Bones, too; even though Bones often argued with Spock's point of view, it was mostly to keep a discussion going, and he was pretty sure Spock realised that too.

The gravitational pull of the triple system of Epsilon Equulei made itself felt while the ship was still well away from it.

Kirk called for a long range sensor scan. Wood examined the sensors for some minutes before he looked up.

"Captain, I think you should call Mr. Vaz to check this," he said. "There appear to be planets."

Vaz, summoned, stamped angrily onto the bridge, brushing past Spock who, as the leading Vulcan scientist aboard, had also been called to the bridge. By his attitude, Vaz made it clear that he considered it an insult to him that the Vulcan should be there at all; and Kirk reflected how right Spock had been when he refused Kirk's invitation to spend as much time as he liked on the bridge, on the grounds that it was discourteous to Vaz. At least they - or at least, Berkley - could try to placate Vaz with the perfectly correct information that this was the first time Spock had been on the bridge since they left Zaynol. Spock ignored the incident.

Vaz estimated that there were twenty-seven planets orbiting Epsilon, as well as an uncountable number of tiny planetoids too small to be considered anything but a nuisance to navigation, ranging as they did in size from several miles across to small pebbles. They did not form an asteroid belt, but were interspersed throughout the entire area controlled by Epsilon's three suns, two of which orbited each other in a period recorded as about a century, while the third moved around both very, very slowly, its period of orbit unrecorded, unmeasured by any race. The planets orbited all three apart from two whose orbits were inside that of the third sun. They were scorched cinders. The other two dozen planets also had very, very long years; it seemed unlikely that life could exist on any of them except in primitive form; for summer would be when all three suns were showing, and winter was undoubtedly when one of the suns eclipsed the other two - or even, just one of them. When that happened, the change in radiation must surely be lethal to any advanced life form that had begun to develop.

The Enterprise crept slowly closer to the system, deflector shields at maximum intensity. If one of the larger asteroids approached, they would have to destroy it with phaser fire; but Kirk hoped that they would not have to do this, even though it would be good practise for the phaser room crew as well as for Sulu or Chekov, whichever happened to be on duty at the time. He hoped the asteroids would all stay far enough away from the ship not to endanger her at all.

Several of the planets were on the far side of the system, too far away for anything about them but their presence to be registered; but there was no reason to think that any of them would be any different to the ones on their side of the triple suns.

The outer ones were too far from their multiple primary to be anything other than lumps of frozen rock; several were gas giants. Then came the ones that could be said to be within the ecosphere, two or three of them showing signs of having water - or at least water-vapour - in their atmospheres. Closer again were the ones too hot for any life to be possible.

The ship moved slowly closer to the triple suns. Vaz stationed himself immovably at the sensors on the bridge; Kirk knew that Lt. Berkley would have orders to monitor everything from the Science Department's sensors. There was no way that the Vulcans could make any contribution, and Kirk fumed on Spock's behalf. This was Vaz at his most petty, he considered; but Vaz was Science Officer, and in these circumstances, even Kirk could not override what Vaz considered necessary to his gathering of data. He often did use every available sensor, even though he claimed frequently that he preferred the ones in the Science Department for accuracy - Kirk couldn't even suggest to him that it was the first time he had done such a thing, so why not give the Vulcans access to one of the sensors? It must be galling for Spock; not that the Chief Scientist showed any irritation, but Kirk felt he was beginning to understand him, and he was certain that Spock must be feeling frustration.

"We must investigate the fifteenth planet!" Vaz exclaimed suddenly. "I am getting life form readings from there. Primitive ones... cold-blooded species... quite extensive. The fifteenth planet, Captain!"

Kirk glanced at Sulu. "Take us there, Mr. Sulu."

"Aye, sir."

Vaz chose Berkley to accompany him, two others of his junior staff, and accepted two security guards with ill-concealed impatience. Not for the first time, Kirk found himself wondering just why Vaz seemed to trust Berkley when he seemed to trust no-one else. He had never included his chief assistant in landing parties prior to Berkley's appointment, never given them any chance to show their ability... no wonder so many of them had applied for transfer. Even his junior staff got little chance to prove themselves...

Once Vaz was safely away, Kirk turned to Spock. "I'm sorry, Chief Scientist. He was just being awkward. If your men care to use the sensors until he returns, they're more than welcome to do so."

"Thank you, Captain." He glanced at Uhura. "Lieutenant, will you ask Seval to come up here, and - " he looked at Kirk. "The sensors in the Science Department, too?"

Kirk nodded. He turned back to Uhura. " - Stron and Selar to the Science laboratory."

"Yes, sir."

Spock turned his attention back to Kirk. "Will we get the opportunity to land, Captain?"

"I think so, sir. Once Mr. Vaz reports back, other landing parties can go down. There's no reason why one of these parties shouldn't be composed of your men."

There was no report from Vaz.

When his time for reporting in was five minutes past, Kirk swung round to Uhura.

"Call the landing party, Lieutenant. Whatever they've found, it's no excuse for missing a report."

"Aye, sir... Sir, there's no reply to their call-sign."

"Have you tried others in the party?"

"All of them, sir. No response."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Trouble, Captain?"

"Probably." He moved towards the elevator. "Lieutenant Uhura, tell a security detail to meet me in the transporter room at once. I'm going down. Take over, Mr. Wood."

"Aye, sir." The First Officer assumed the command chair.

Spock moved into the elevator with Kirk, as smoothly as if he had been doing it for years. "Captain, may I accompany you?"

Kirk thought about it for a moment while the elevator finished its downward trip. As the doors opened,

"I'd like to take you," he admitted. "But it will be dangerous - and I'm responsible for your safety while you are on my ship. If you were hurt - I'd be blamed, and rightly so."

"Even if I left a message to say that I accompanied you of my own choice?"

"Don't tempt me, Spock! It's impossible!"

"You did say we could go - "

"Once the first landing party reported in, But they haven't, and we can't raise them. So something's wrong. Until I know what it is, I can't let you go down."

Spock moved to join Kyle at the transporter console, a disappointed droop that he was unable to contain to his shoulders. Seeing it, Kirk suddenly realised how much it would mean to the Vulcan to be allowed to accompany him. In a way, it would be repayment for the way that Kirk had stayed with him...

"Chief Scientist - "

"Yes, Captain?"

"I shouldn't do it, but - come on!"

Spock crossed quickly to take one of the two empty stations in the transporter chamber. Kirk looked back at Kyle. "Energise!"

It was a primeval forest. Great tree-ferns overshadowed them; giant horse-tails waved their fronds in the gentle breeze. Creepers ran along the ground, twined their way up the stems of taller plants, strangled them so that their tops wilted while off-shoots sprouted up from below the point of restriction, where there was still sap to nourish them. Underfoot was a mass of rotting vegetation; Spock bent to pick up a handful of the rich humus, and worm-like creatures dropped from it as he lifted it. They quickly burrowed their way back into the mould, out of the glare of the triple sun.

There was no sign of any other life forms; no sign of the first landing party.

"Vaz!" Kirk shouted.

There was no sound, not even an echo. His call faded into deadness.

"Is it wise to make a sound, Captain?" Spock asked. "This type of environment sometimes gives rise to unpleasant carnivores; sound would attract these."

"Yes, you're right, sir," Kirk admitted, more quietly. He turned his attention to the three security men. "Spread out; be as quiet as possible. Keep your phasers set to kill, and your communicators handy. If necessary, have yourselves beamed back to the ship; you can rejoin us by beaming back to slightly different coordinates. We're looking for any sign, any sign at all, of the first landing party. Chief Scientist, you stay with me."

Spock followed him obediently as the party scattered. They moved through the forest, pushing their way through the tangle of fallen pleats. It would have been impossible if the plants hadn't been soft-stemmed end half-rotten. Underfoot was wet, unpleasant. Kirk's communicator bleeped.

"Kirk here."

"Lenoir, sir. I've found something." He sounded slightly sick. "Someone's leg, sir. And a lot of blood."

Kirk grimaced. "On my way, Lenoir." He swallowed.

"Unpleasant," Spock commented evenly.

They headed back the way they had come, tracking the signal from Lenoir's communicator.

They found Lenoir and one of the other guards in a kind of clearing that looked anything but natural. All the plants that were down were rayed out from a common centre; a great swathe had been mowed through the forest, widening at this one point into a great circle.

Slightly off-centre of the circle were the remains Lenoir had mentioned. The blood was only recognisable as such by the smell, strong enough to overcome the ever-present stench of decay, and by its registered presence on the tricorder; the leg, still clad, still booted, lay bent, as if its owner had been running when he had been caught by... whatever had caught him. A flap of cloth mercifully hid the raw flesh where it had been torn from the body.

Speck surveyed the scene. He noticed an indentation in the mould, and walked over to it.

"Captain!"

Kirk crossed to join him. He was staring at a large depression in the ground.

"What?"

"This appears to be a footprint, Captain."

Kirk studied the indentation. It was several inches deep; water lay shallowly in the bottom of it. It had the approximate shape of a footprint, right enough - but what kind of creature could have a foot large enough to leave a print fully thirty inches long, and almost as wide? A great three-toed foot... the beast must have been very large, very heavy.

Speck moved slowly forward. He went at least three yards before he stopped again.

"Mere is the next one, Captain."

Kirk shivered despite the clammy heat.

"What kind of - of monstrosity could leave a trail of footprints like that?" he asked.

"On Vulcan, before there was any trace of sapient life, there was a creature that we call a do-matya. We know it from fossil remains. It was large enough to leave footprints similar to these ones. I believe there were similar creatures on your Earth - tyrannosaurus, allosurus, gorgosaurus... These creatures lived when evolution attained the level that would be indicated by the flora here."

"How many years of evolution would be needed to give rise to such horrors?"

Spock shook his head slowly. "Who can say? On Earth, perhaps a million years. On Vulcan - perhaps three-quarters of a million, since our years are longer than yours. Here - how long is a year? These creatures can only have evolved since the planet entered its summer; when winter comes again, they will surely die, as all such creatures have done on all planets when the climate changed." He sounded almost regretful.

Kirk thought he understood why. The death of an entire species - even of a species as unlovable as this... He searched for some comment that might reconcile the Vulcan.

"There is one thing - if the year is so long, they might have time to adapt," he suggested.

Spock shook his head. "They are probably too well-adapted to their present conditions to be able to re-adapt," he replied. "The ones that will be able to survive are the small ones. It is always so."

Kirk decided to abandon the subject. He glanced over at the three guards. The third one, who had arrived last at the scene of death, was still looking pale and shaken; a young man on his first assignment, he had not yet had time to get used to the sometimes unpleasant nature of landing party duties. But, even so, Kirk noted with approval that he was as alert as the other two. All three, slightly fanned out, were watching both directions of the 'path' that the giant creature had left.

"Any trace of a large life form nearby?" he asked. He was rather relieved when the reply was negative. In these footprints, he had already seen as much of the monster as he wanted.

"I think we'd better return to the ship," he said. "We've found what happened to the first landing party; I'd hate us to disappear in the same way."

"Captain, the beast is nowhere near," Spock replied. "Will you permit me to remain a little longer to make some studies? Although this is not my main interest, there is a strange fascination in actually seeing a primeval forest such as this, and being able