VARIATIONS ON A THEME 4

by

Sheila Clark and Valerie Piacentini

Commander Kirk, First Officer of the USS Enterprise, was frowning slightly as he made his way to sickbay. The call the senior nurse had made sounded urgent; Tamura was clearly distressed about something, yet she had said, 'I think you'd better come to sickbay to hear about this' - not 'Dr. McCoy thinks'.

Receiving the call, Spock had glanced across at his second in command. Everything on the bridge was routine at the moment; the ship was four days out from Starbase 8 on the first leg of a routine mission to give several colonies their annual Starfleet medical check; there had been no emergencies of any kind. Kirk glanced back at his Captain with a slight shrug that said, 'It can't be much.'

Spock apparently agreed. "Check it out, Mr. Kirk."

"Yes, Captain."

So now Kirk was making his way from the elevator to sickbay, wondering what had happened to make Nurse Tamura call the bridge.

As the door opened to admit him, Kirk heard the voices raised in anger. First McCoy's, then the girl's, quieter but determined. Her words reached the First Officer clearly.

"I am a nurse first, and a member of the crew of the Enterprise second, Dr. McCoy."

McCoy seemed to become aware of Kirk's intrusion, and obviously altered what he had been about to say. "I'll give them a full report," he said almost dully, his anger visibly fading. "I promise."

She looked intently at him, then nodded and turned away. As the door closed behind her, Kirk said quietly, "That was some scene, Bones."

Instead of following the obvious line of thought McCoy said abruptly, "I've just finished the crew's routine medicals, Jim."

"And?" If McCoy didn't want to talk about his argument with his head nurse, Kirk was the last man to push him about it.

"The crew is all in perfect health - with one exception."

Something in McCoy's tone half alerted Kirk. "Bad?"

"Terminal."

Terminal. There were almost no terminal ailments now, although Kirk knew that in the past many now curable diseases had been fatal. "Who is it?"

As if Kirk hadn't spoken, McCoy went on. "He has one year to live - at the outside chance."

"Who is it?" Kirk asked again, more sharply.

"The ship's Chief Medical Officer."

It took a moment to sink in. "You?"

"I'll be able to work most efficiently in the time left if you can keep it to yourself, Jim."

You don't want pity, Kirk thought. "Spock will have to be told. I don't see any reason to inform anyone else. What is the condition?"

"Xenopolycythemia."

Kirk had come across a mention of it in one of his scientific journals. It was one of the rare blood diseases, and it only attacked personnel who worked, and therefore lived, in space; only about one in two hundred thousand was affected. Because it was so rare, attempts to isolate its cause and to find a cure were sporadic. And even if Bones, with a personal interest in finding a cure, were to devote all his spare time to researching it, he was extremely unlikely to come up with anything useful in the three or four months he had before the debilitating effects of the disease caused so much damage to his system that full recovery was hopeless. The knowledge made a reply impossible. He could only look helplessly at his dying friend in silent sympathy.

"It was serious then," Spock said as he entered Kirk's cabin in response to his First Officer's call.

Kirk nodded. "Xenopolycythemia - have you heard of it?"

"A rare blood ailment," Spock replied.

"Bones has it."

Spock nodded, hardly surprised. "This is one occasion when my previous experiences are of value. Fortunately, we are not too far from the co-ordinates - "

"Co-ordinates?" Kirk asked blankly.

"This happened in the other universe," Spock explained. "We came upon a race who had a cure in time to benefit our McCoy. This time I know the situation on Yonada, so the problems - "

"Yonada?" Kirk cut in, anxiety sharpening his tone.

"Yes - Jim, what is it?"

Kirk ran his tongue over suddenly dry lips. "Spock - we found the world of Yonada a few months before you came here. It was a plague world, only a handful of immune carriers left alive. We beamed one aboard, kept her in quarantine in sickbay until the Captain found out who they were and why they were there. Their sun had gone nova, they were searching for a new world to settle, but every one they came to they had been forced to leave; they suffered from agoraphobia as a result of always living in a fairly enclosed space, and none of them had been able to adjust to living under the open sky. Eventually they had stopped looking, living perfectly contentedly in their artificial world until the disease struck.

"But their world was on a collision course with a heavily populated colony planet. It might have been possible to alter Yonada's course, but the Captain wouldn't risk sending anyone aboard, not even a volunteer, to find out, and the handful of survivors had forgotten all they ever knew about controlling their vessel; even their records had been lost when the main computer malfunctioned. At any rate, the Captain beamed the woman back then destroyed Yonada completely. He might have taken the risk if there'd been any chance of gain, but he wouldn't even evacuate the few survivors. He said that they were disease carriers who couldn't be settled anywhere - that it was kinder to destroy them with their world." Kirk's voice shook slightly. "Perhaps he was right - though whatever his real motive, 'kindness' was surely not really part of it."

"Nothing was salvaged?"

Kirk shook his head. "Nothing."

It was almost a week before Spock brought the subject up again. Kirk had seen very little of him during that time; even his duty hours were mostly spent in his quarters, and the 'Do not disturb' sign was apparently permanently lit. Although puzzled, Kirk accepted his friend's withdrawal tranquilly; Spock said he had work to do - if he felt he required several days of solitude to do it, that was up to him.

Finally Spock called the bridge, where Kirk had the con.

"Mr. Kirk - I would like a word with you in my quarters."

"On my way, Captain." Kirk flicked off the intercom. "You have the con, Mr. Sulu." He strode confidently into the elevator.

He entered Spock's cabin in response to the Vulcan's call and stopped dead, staring at the transporter-like structure that occupied half of the living and working area.

"What on earth...?"

"If McCoy is to be saved, Jim, drastic measures are necessary. I have rebuilt the machinery that let me enter this universe; it is attuned to what is left of the equipment I left behind. When I came through permanently I destroyed the doorway, and though much of the machinery would have been damaged beyond reconstruction when that happened, my tests show that enough remains that I can focus on it and return to it. I will go through, find the other McCoy, obtain the cure from him, and return. It will take a few days, but it should not take too long - when I left, McCoy was based on Vulcan, running his xenomedical school there, and I doubt that he would leave; nor would he retire, for he is the sort of man who 'dies in harness'. If he has left Vulcan for any reason, I will come back and let you know, then go through again to follow him."

"Dangerous," Kirk said.

"Yes - but it is our McCoy's only chance."

'Our' McCoy - not 'your'. Our. Such a little thing, and yet so emotionally satisfying as a reaffirmation of Spock's commitment to this universe.

"Yes," Kirk said. "And I see that you must be the one to go - you know where the... the xenomedical school is. In that respect, the other universe is more advanced than this one."

"Such a school may be started here in time," Spock answered quietly. "It was begun by Dr. McCoy in the other universe. With Captain Kirk dead and myself promoted away from the Enterprise, he chose also to retire from active service. His medical knowledge of many races filled a specialised need; he realised that space-going doctors required a wider range of experience than was offered by Starfleet Academy, excellent though the medical course given there was. So...

"At first he took only a few students in his home, but word spread, and he had to find more spacious accommodation. Then he had to find more teachers. The staff he selected was made up of experienced Starfleet medical officers either retired or invalided out through injury or failing a routine medical examination. The success of his methods led to Starfleet agreeing to finance his school, and he resumed his career in Starfleet. His primary concern is the medical school, but he also holds - or held - the position of Head of the Medical Section of the Vulcan Starbase."

"I see."

Spock smiled suddenly and unexpectedly. "One thing I do remember about the treatment of xenopolycythemia - I teased the other McCoy rather unmercifully about it at first, I'm afraid, until I realised I was being unnecessarily cruel - he must stop eating meat. Our McCoy might be helped by doing that now."

It took a moment to sink in. "Poor Bones!"

"He can still eat the flesh of poultry or fish," Spock added, "but not red meat, ever again. I should have remembered that a week ago. Although the cure is complete, susceptibility to the condition remains, and a controlled diet is necessary."

"I think Bones has been off his food anyway since he diagnosed it," Kirk told him. "When I've seen him in the mess, he's been nibbling at things like omelettes." He looked straight at Spock, knowing that they were now talking, at least in part, to waste time. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes."

"Spock - our link." Kirk touched his forehead. "Will I be able to reach you?"

The Vulcan considered for a moment. "I do not know, Jim - I think it unlikely. An incomplete bond, stretched between two universes... Do not be alarmed if you cannot touch my thoughts."

Kirk held out his hand. "Be careful, my friend."

The Vulcan nodded as he took it. "Very careful," he said. "If all goes well I will require only two, possibly three, days, but I may be longer if McCoy is away in another part of Vulcan, as he sometimes is."

"I'11 try not to worry."

The firm handclasp loosened; Spock stepped into the 'transporter chamber' of his device, fastening a small box to his belt; Kirk knew it was the key for his return.

"Depress the green button," Spock instructed. Kirk obeyed; the Vulcan shimmered for a moment, and disappeared.

Not until Spock was gone did Kirk realise that he had given no instructions to cover the period he would be away; as far as the ship was concerned, Spock was still engaged in the routine work that had been occupying his attention for some days - only Kirk knew otherwise. It did mean, however, that should any emergency arise, its resolution sat firmly on the First Officer's shoulders. Kirk swallowed nervously, then straightened resolutely. Spock trusted him to look after the ship. He would not fail.

The days dragged past - first the two that Spock had estimated was the least time he would need... then a third... a fourth... a fifth. By the sixth day Kirk was almost frantic with worry.

'If he has left Vulcan, I will come back and let you know,' Spock had said. That he had not meant that McCoy was still there. The delay indicated that either he had been hard to get hold of - or that Spock was in trouble.

Spock was in trouble. Kirk was sure of it.

The small box that was the key to his return should operate anywhere, and Spock would be drawn back here. So he had not operated it. The momentary fear that it had not worked Kirk dismissed as not worth consideration. It was not, after all, in any way experimental, but a reconstruction of the device that had brought Spock safely here in the first place.

No. Spock was in trouble. That meant someone would have to go after him - and the only person who could go was Kirk himself. No-one else knew the truth except McCoy, and he certainly could not leave the ship in his condition. It had to be Kirk.

Yet Spock had left the ship in his charge. How could he abandon that responsibility?

How could he abandon Spock?

There was no choice. It only remained to think up a good reason for handing command over to Charlene Masters.

Research?

It would serve him for now, as it had so frequently done in the past - but what reason could he give for Spock's absence from duty? One or other of them had to be available.

He could, of course, involve McCoy. A disease, contagious, requiring isolation, confinement to quarters... but he did not want to approach McCoy. That would mean giving an explanation, and he did not want to arouse hopes that might prove false.

Kirk sat, gathering his thoughts as Spock had taught him, considering the possibilities as logically as he could. He quickly reached one positive conclusion. He must confide in Masters.

Not fully, of course, but fully enough for her to appreciate just what Spock had done, and why. Then together they could enlist McCoy's help with some story of a research trip gone wrong. But then McCoy would certainly wonder why Spock had gone back into the other universe. What reason could he give? It would be so much easier if, like Masters, McCoy did not know of Spock's alternate universe origins.

Or... Don't tell McCoy yet. Tell Masters, then go, leaving her to tell McCoy the bare facts that had been revealed to her. It would be easier for him than lying; Masters could simply say she didn't know what research they were engaged on, and McCoy was far less likely to suspect her of telling him less than the exact truth. She could then call on McCoy's aid to cover up their disappearance. Even Starfleet Command would not question the word of a Chief Medical Officer, and the odds were favourable that on such a routine mission no-one would want to contact them anyway.

There was plenty of time, too; checking the colonies would take some three months before they had to return to Starbase, even to transfer McCoy off. The initial progress of xenopolycythemia was slow, and because of the frequency of checks had been discovered quickly; only in the final months did the buildup of poisons it caused weaken the patient to the point of incapacitation, although he would soon be unable to hide his growing weakness from the rest of the medical staff. The colonies were well inside Federation space - there should be no emergencies. But he - and Spock - had to be covered.

His mind made up, Kirk reached for the intercom - then paused, even as he touched it. No. Better for him to visit Masters in her cabin. That way there would be no evidence that First Officer and Chief Engineer had prediscussed anything.

If Charlene Masters was surprised when she discovered the identity of her visitor she hid it well.

"Yes, Jim?" she asked quietly, a hand moving to freeze the image of the technical diagram in the viewer. There was clearly something on his mind - that habit of twisting his ring... Is he even conscious of doing it? she wondered.

"Charlene, I need your help." It was an abrupt statement that sounded almost forced, and she frowned slightly.

"Anything I can do, of course," she agreed, gesturing to a chair. Kirk sank into it. He seemed to be thinking.

"What is it, Jim?" she asked as he showed no sign of going on.

"Spock," Kirk said. "He's in trouble, Charlene - I'm sure of it."

"If he won't tell you, Jim, he won't tell anyone," she said gently.

"It's not as easy as that," Kirk told her.

She waited patiently for him to go on, but he seemed to be having difficulty in finding words. Finally he said, still abruptly, "This concerns McCoy too, Charlene. He asked me not to tell anyone - but before I can explain this whole thing to you I have to let you know. Please - you must keep the knowledge to yourself."

Puzzled, she nodded, and Kirk continued. "Don't even let Bones know you know."

"All right," she agreed.

He took a deep breath. "Bones is dying, Charlene. Xenopolycythemia." Seeing her uncomprehending stare, he explained. "It's a rare blood disease, a sort of inability in the blood to rid itself of body poisons, the corpuscles can't carry oxygen round the body as efficiently as normal, and there's no cure - it's too rare for anyone to have been allocated funds to research it."

Shock showed clearly on her face. "Oh God!"

"He has - at most - a year to live. If a cure could be found inside the next three months or so, he could recover fully, but after that there's too much damage been done to the vital organs - even if he lived he'd be a permanent invalid. Without a cure, death is inevitable. He'll stay with the ship until we get back to Starbase 8 - then he'll be transferred off, ostensibly to a shore posting. In actual fact..." His voice faded and he swallowed the lump that threatened to choke him.

Masters looked keenly at her senior officer for a moment. "All right - where does Spock fit into this?"

"Several years ago, Spock did some personal research into the theory that other universes exist." Kirk spoke carefully now. "He never published his findings because he came to the conclusion that the whole subject could be terribly dangerous, and he deliberately destroyed everything - equipment, records, the lot - that had any connection with it. However, before he did that he actually visited at least two other universes - possibly more, but I only know about two.

"He found many similarities, with much the same people. Relationships, personalities, even events sometimes varied slightly, and it was this in part that created the danger. Can you imagine an unscrupulous man, prevented here from doing as he wished, going into another universe, taking his counterpart's place...?"

"Yes," she agreed. "An interesting technical achievement, but... Go on."

"During the time Spock spent in one universe, he came across a mention of a cure for xenopolycythemia."

"He rebuilt his equipment?"

No wonder she has risen to Chief Engineer, he thought; her mind was remarkably sharp.

"Yes. He went through a week ago, expecting to require at most two or three days. He promised to come back and let me know if he discovered he would be longer. He has not come back."

She thought about it for a moment. "How many people know of this?"

"Bones knows about the earlier experiments, but not about this attempt; we decided not to tell him in case we failed. And now you. Nobody else knows."

"What do you mean to do?"

"Someone will have to go after Spock. Since I know most about what he planned, it will have to be me. But I can't go without your help, Charlene. I need you to take command of the Enterprise, and also to cover up for us somehow should any new orders come through - though I don't expect that to happen. Bones can probably help you - except that he mustn't know why we went through to the other universe. I don't want to see him before I go - I can't lie convincingly, he'd know I was hiding something - but all you need tell him is that I said Spock was in trouble in an alternate universe, and I went after him. He'll understand that."

"Have you any idea how long you'll be?"

"No. It all depends on so many factors." He did not add that there was only one return mechanism - and Spock had it. If he failed to find his friend he would not be able to return.

"All right, I'll take over, enlist McCoy's help and cover for you as long as possible. Just try not to be too long, huh?"

Kirk smiled, a mixture of relief and gratitude. "Thanks, Charlene. I won't forget this."

"When do you mean to go?"

"Now seems as good a time as any."

They went along the deserted corridors of the ship's night without meeting anyone and Kirk opened the door of the Captain's cabin. Charlene looked at the hastily-built transporter-like equipment with interest. Kirk indicated the appropriate button.

"Press that green button," he instructed. As she nodded he crossed to the 'transporter chamber' and entered it. "Ready."

She pressed the button. For a moment she thought it was not going to work; for a moment Kirk was aware of fear, fear of the unknown; then he shimmered out of sight.

"Good luck, Jim," she murmured softly; then, eyes alight with interest, she turned her attention to examining, without touching, the machinery that half-filled the room.

Kirk regained awareness to find himself standing in a cellar, dimly lit by a fading emergency light in the ceiling. The furniture could be seen only as dim shapes in the faint twilight of the room.

There must be a light switch by the door, Kirk thought, staring round in search of it. A rectangle, slightly darker than the rest of the wall, attracted his attention; he moved to it. Yes, a door. He ran his hand down the wall beside it and found the switch.

He blinked in the sudden brightness, his eyes readjusting, to look round with some interest - and froze. A figure was sitting at a console a little to one side of him. He moved forward.

Mercifully, the eyes were shut. He could not have borne it otherwise.

There was no blood staining the Commodore's shirt; the Captain's blood had ceased to flow even before Spock withdrew the knife that had killed his counterpart. But at this distance, Kirk could plainly see the blackened blood encrusting the wound on the corpse's neck.

The body had mummified in the dry heat that penetrated even this closed cellar. Always thin, the Captain's face had not been altered to any extent by the mummification, but death had relaxed it into a strange gentleness that the Captain had never shown while he was alive.

Kirk looked at his dead tormentor, trembling with shock - he had forgotten that Spock had left the body here. And remembering.

Remembering pain. Remembering humiliation. Remembering the Captain's last words as he died.

Remembering two tapes; one, a message intended for him; one, a personal record the Captain had never intended anyone to hear.

"I'm sorry," Kirk said quietly. "I could have loved you - but you made sure I would only fear you. Is it so surprising that at last you made me fear you too much? Perhaps in another universe, with a stronger Kirk, you would have found the companionship you denied to us - and I do wish you could have known it. You were never happy, were you?"

He studied the body for a moment longer, then turned away.

The door opened easily at his touch, and Kirk found himself in the little used area where old Starbase records were stored - it seemed that in this universe, as in his own, the bureaucratic mind discarded nothing, remote though the possibility was that it would be needed again. Spock had told him that the warning devices he had set proved that no-one else had ventured this far into the cellars in all the time he had used his hidden base.

From Spock's description, and his own limited knowledge of the Vulcan Starbase complex in his own universe, Kirk knew that the greatest danger lay in being seen as he emerged from the hidden room. Having reached this far, he could mingle with the headquarters staff who went about their duties even in the Commodore's private residence, his uniform rendering him simply another faceless unit in the busy life of the base. A sudden impulse had made him lift a discarded clipboard from the cellar, and he now carried it in such a way that it concealed the ship's insignia on his shirt - among the base staff might be someone who would recognise the Enterprise arrowhead, and know that none of her officers had any business on Vulcan.

Luck was with him - or perhaps it was simply that the lower levels of the base were seldom used, for he saw no-one until he emerged into a busy corridor and joined the flow of hurrying men and women. Mentally, Kirk blessed the attitude that assumed that a man in uniform who acted as though he had a right to be where he was, probably did. Assuming an intent, serious expression, he walked briskly along the corridor, passed unchallenged through a side door, and emerged onto the open area of the base.

Here he paused, considering his next move. The main gate would be guarded, he knew, and it seemed foolish to risk being stopped - sometimes a security check covered those leaving, as well as entering, the restricted area of a base. It would perhaps be wiser to take the longer, but less sensitive, route across the spaceport which served both the base and the civilian traffic, and to leave the area by the unguarded exit into the township.

Not in his uniform, though. That will be too conspicuous, Kirk thought. The presence of a Starfleet officer in such a quarter would be noticed, remembered, and perhaps mentioned in the hearing of those whose attention would be undesirable.

Just ahead of him a group of mechanics emerged from a hangar belonging to one of the private spacelines; the sight gave him an idea and he slipped inside, heading for the locker room.

As he had hoped, several pairs of engineering coveralls were lying around; choosing the one nearest his size Kirk pulled it on and surveyed himself in the mirror with a grin of satisfaction - the act had transformed him from a Starfleet officer into a nameless and unimportant civilian technician.

Confidently, he left the hangar and joined the steady flow of people heading off the base; the bored guard on duty scarcely lifted his eyes as they passed, though Kirk had seen him moments before challenge someone who sought to enter.

Safely on the street, Kirk made his way to a video booth end consulted the directory for McCoy's address; for a moment he was tempted to call ahead, but decided against it - there was no guarantee that his call would be put through to the Head of Medicine on the Vulcan base, and he dared not give his name. Better, he thought, to make personal contact with McCoy if he could, and rely on the shock of his physical appearance to gain him speech with the doctor.

Memorising the address, and the route to it, Kirk set off to walk. He had not thought, in his haste, to bring any cash with him - if indeed the money of his universe was the same as in this - and in this universe he had no credit number to give.

His way led through the least reputable part of the township. It was early evening, and the lights of the drinking dens and brothels were already twinkling into garish life. For the most part he managed to avoid the revellers who thronged the streets, but at one point, as he stepped out of the way of a staggering drunk, he collided heavily with a very tall, thickset man who was forced to clutch at him to prevent the lighter man from sprawling into the road.

"Sorry, youngster, I..."

Kirk looked up enquiringly as the voice faded. He had never met the stranger, he was certain - he could not have forgotten the bright, cunning eyes or the distinctive moustache - yet the man was staring at him in open-mouthed astonishment.

That was the other thing he had forgotten, he realised; McCoy was not the only man on Vulcan who might recognise the face of Jim Kirk... though, to be sure, his youth would be confusing...

"Excuse me, sir." Since the man seemed disinclined to release him, Kirk wriggled free of his grip and stepped aside, walking on quickly. He glanced back only once, to see the stranger staring after him. Thankfully, he ducked down a side street, and was soon hidden from the man's sight.

On the main street a thoughtful figure raised a hand to stroke his drooping moustache as he followed the retreating youth with speculative eyes. After a moment he turned towards the bar he had been about to enter, hesitated, then walked slowly away.

Suddenly he felt very old and tired; memories of younger, happier days, daring chances, grandiose schemes that had somehow never worked out quite as he had intended, filled his mind, called to life by a pair of hauntingly-familiar eyes. So long ago... Purely a chance resemblance, of course. Harcourt Fenton Mudd had never believed in ghosts - and he wasn't about to begin now.

After a few minutes Kirk began to doubt the wisdom of his detour. The street he was following was in the roughest section of the town, and he hurried along, his eyes lowered, hoping to come soon to a cross-street that would take him back on the way to McCoy's.

From open doorways soft voices called to him, promising him a variety df pleasures; once arms entwined around his neck, seeking to draw him in, a proposition to which he reacted instinctively by pulling away and almost running from the sound of the mocking laughter that followed him.

It was with considerable relief that Kirk turned into a quieter street, but it seemed that a different danger awaited him. He was just passing beneath a street lamp when a burly man in the uniform of one of the civil spacelines stepped out and blocked his path.

"Just off the ship, kid?"

"I... I'm going to meet friends..." Kirk backed away nervously, then realised that three more men had come up behind him. "They'll be waiting..."

"You can spare a few minutes, surely?" The man was gazing at the shoulder of Kirk's coveralls. "I see you're an engineering technician - just what we need."

"I already have a berth, thanks." Kirk knew a moment's relief at the realisation that the man had not, as he feared, accosted him in search of a sexual partner, but he was well aware of the risk of being forcibly abducted to serve on one of the less strictly run civil ships, and once he vanished into enforced service it would be months before he could even try to escape, far too late to be of any help to Spock - and certainly too late for McCoy.

With a courage born of desperation and the need to avoid capture at all costs, Kirk seized the only chance he had, that of surprise. He dodged aside, avoiding the clutching hands, and fled as fast as he could, aware that his chances of finding help, or even a safe hiding place in this area, were very slim indeed.

The Vulcan guard executed a punctilious salute, and received in exchange an absent-minded wave from the muffled figure who approached the main gate of the Security area of the Starbase.

"Do you wish an escort, Doctor?"

"An escort?" Surgeon-Admiral Leonard McCoy, Director of the Institute of Xenomedicine on Vulcan, Chief Medical Officer for the Starbase, snorted indignantly. "What the blue blazes would I want an escort for, Sandor?"

The Vulcan raised a resigned eyebrow, wondering for the hundredth time how anyone as irascible and apparently disorganised as McCoy could contrive to remember the name of every member of the Starbase staff.

"Were you not aware, Doctor, that Commodore Sendak placed the entire base on full security 7.5 days ago? All key personnel are naturally provided with an escort if required."

"Well, I don't need one. I've been too busy to bother about Sendak's damned security drills. I'm going home for the first time in a week, and I don't want to be bothered with any of your nonsense, Sandor. Go and guard someone important - all a doctor does is clear up the mess you fellows create. Goodnight to you."

"Goodnight, Doctor."

McCoy pulled the collar of his cloak closer around himself, and set off to walk the short distance to the small house he had taken in the town, preferring to have his private dwelling outside the Starbase.

Despite the bitter cold his steps slowed as he found himself studying the glorious night sky of Vulcan. Strange, he thought, that after all these years this was where his career was ending, even stranger that he had learned to love this alien world, perhaps even to understand its people - a little.

His eyes, still intensely blue, clouded as his gaze rested on a small, dim star low in the heavens, an insignificant speck in the grandeur arched above him. His own sun... his and Jim's - and Spock's...

But Jim was twenty years dead, and Spock...

"Where the hell are you, you stubborn, irritating Vulcan?" he murmured aloud; despite his words, his voice was soft with grief.

Jim's last resting place was very close; his friend lay beneath Vulcan's red soil, for Spock had wished it so, and there was no-one else left on Earth to care where he was buried. Spock, though - Spock had vanished utterly three years ago, leaving no trace of his passing and McCoy's grief was still fresh in his mind.

"Did you go to Jim? Was that it?" he whispered. "Couldn't you have told me? I'd have understood."

Yes, he would have understood that, for after Jim's death the Vulcan had altered terribly. Not obviously - to anyone else he still seemed the controlled, emotionless Vulcan; but on occasions the mask had slipped, and McCoy had seen the bleak misery in the dark eyes.

Those years on the Enterprise... Spock had taken command because it was Jim's wish...and McCoy had remained at his side, partly because there was nowhere else to go, but mainly because each found a bitter comfort in the memories they shared - and a refuge from the one memory neither dared examine too closely, that of the mindless, terrified, pitiful thing that had whimpered out its short life in Spock's arms.

Then... that last voyage - McCoy absent attending a course in preparation for his eventual retirement from Starship service; Spock returning, his eyes vividly, terribly alive, taking command of the Starbase; an offer he had refused until now; only to plunge into months of mysterious, secretive research during which McCoy seldom saw his friend. Spock's collapse, the sudden despair that had overwhelmed him until McCoy felt the cold dread of losing him; the inexplicable recovery, the return to his obsessive secrecy... and the mysterious disappearance without word or sign.

Since then - nothing. Only an aging, lonely man who buried himself in his work to keep from howling his grief for the friends who had been dearer to him than any family.

Shaking his head, McCoy quickened his pace. He was passing through the civilian spaceport area, the usual sort of rough-and-ready town that seemed to spring up automatically to cater for the commercial space crews - and often Starfleet men on shore leave. The Vulcan authorities were not altogether happy at having such a complex on their territory, but reluctantly accepted that it was inevitable; in return the space crews confined their relaxation to this area, for the disciplined environment of the rest of Vulcan was not to their taste. Besides, why risk incurring the penalties of Vulcan law, when all that they required was available here?

Despite the roughness of the area, McCoy was safe enough - respect for his medical uniform protected him from assault - and his home, situated in its own grounds, was far enough from the bars and nightclubs to enjoy a measure of peace and quiet.

Absorbed in his memories McCoy threaded his way through the crowds thronging the streets, intent on a good time. One burly engineer in the uniform of a commercial spaceline collided with him, then apologised hastily as he recognised the medical insignia.

McCoy continued on, frowning as the man rejoined his companions. This group was completely sober, alert, looking round as though in search of something; and the doctor knew what it was.

The civilian crews were drifters, always changing employment when the fancy took them; and it was not unknown for a liner to be stranded if a crewman jumped ship. The simplest and easiest solution was to kidnap a replacement. It was the shanghai system of the old sailing days brought up-to-date, and although Starfleet had done its best to stamp out the practice their efforts were fiercely resisted by the men themselves, who preferred to take a chance on being kidnapped rather than have their freedom curtailed by official registers and contracts - 'bureaucratic interference', they termed it.

With a sigh of relief McCoy turned into the alley that led to his house. The gate swung open at a touch, and again he frowned, certain that he had closed it last time he left; then he shrugged - the medical insignia was repeated in the design of the gate, perhaps a patient had been seeking help.

He lingered for a moment in the garden, taking a last look at the night sky, then turned to place his hand on the identification plate beside the front door. As he did so a movement in the deep shadows of the porch made him start.

"Who's there?" he demanded sharply.

"Dr. McCoy?" The voice was faint, hesitant, disturbingly familiar.

"I'm McCoy. Who are you? Do you need a doctor?"

"I need... I must speak with you." The voice was more confident now, but still breathless.

McCoy hesitated. "Call my office and make an appointment," he growled. "I'm off duty now."

"No, please. You must listen to me -" His unseen companion broke off as voices sounded in the alley outside. "Don't let them see me. They're looking for me, to take me aboard their ship. I eluded them, but they must have followed me. Please, let me in! I've got to talk to you!"

"I don't know about that." McCoy was doubtful. Admit a stranger into his home at this hour? Although as a doctor he should be safe enough, there were a lot of odd characters around.

The voices came nearer, and the doctor recognised the tones of the man who had bumped into him earlier; the gate creaked, and slow footsteps rang on the path.

His visitor gave a gasp of sheer terror. "Bones, please! Let me in!"

No-one's called me 'Bones' in twenty years! was McCoy's first thought. He pressed his hand on the plate. "Get inside, and keep quiet."

A shadow slipped inside the door, and with a calm he was very far from feeling, McCoy turned to greet the newcomer.

"Can I help you?" He winced as a flashlight fell on his face, blinding him.

"Oh, it's you again, Doc. Sorry to bother you. We're looking for a deserter; one of my men thought he'd seen him come this way. You haven't seen him, have you?"

"Sorry, no - I've only just arrived," McCoy said. "You may search the garden, if you wish."

"Thanks." The man tramped off, and for a few minutes the garden was full of voices and flashing lights as the search progressed. At last the men drifted away, and the engineer returned.

"No luck?" McCoy asked.

"No - I guess he got away. Sorry to disturb you, Doc. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

McCoy waited until the man closed the gate before he entered the house, locking the door carefully behind him. The room was in darkness, and a touch on the light switch revealed his visitor sprawled unconscious just inside the doorway.

Concerned, McCoy knelt and turned the limp body over - then stared down in sheer disbelief as time spun back twenty, thirty years, and he gazed into the face of Jim Kirk.

"Impossible!" he muttered. Jim Kirk was twenty years dead, and anyway, his visitor was far too young. But could it be... could it possibly be that unknown to him his dead friend had fathered a son? Marlena Moreau... Anne Mulhall ... Areel Shaw... There had been so many women...

And yet... Jim Kirk's son in the drab coveralls of an engineering technician?

Setting the mystery aside for the moment McCoy touched his fingers to the sluggishly bleeding cut on the young man's face. First things first, he decided, and lifted the man onto the couch before going to fetch his medical kit.

The injury tended, he sought for further damage, but the stranger seemed only to be suffering from extreme exhaustion; as McCoy pulled off the coveralls, though, the mystery deepened - his visitor wore the uniform of a Commander in Starfleet, his insignia the gold arrowhead of the Science Department of the U.S.S. Enterprise.

"Impossible," McCoy repeated. Thelev of Andor was Science Officer of the Enterprise now, under Sulu's command; and McCoy was convinced that he would have heard of any officer in the Fleet who was Jim Kirk's double.

There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask, but when those disturbingly familiar eyes opened at last, McCoy's first thought was for his patient.

"How do you feel?"

The young man accepted McCoy's help to sit up, and drained the glass that was handed to him. "I'm fine now. That engineer got in a lucky punch - he almost caught me."

"Then do you feel up to telling me who you are, and what you're doing here?"

Firm lips curved in the well-remembered grin. "Don't you know me, Bones?"

McCoy looked at him, his eyes shadowed. "I know who you seem to be. But I'm too old and tired for guessing games - and it hurts too much. Are you... his son?"

"I'm sorry." The teasing light died in the hazel eyes. "It's just - meeting you at last... Spock's told me so much about you."

"Spock? You've seen him? He's alive?" Feeling suddenly faint McCoy sat down heavily. He was aware that his erstwhile patient had jumped from the couch, that a strong arm encircled his shaking shoulders.

"I'm doing this so badly," the quiet voice murmured,.

"Spock... To have news after so long... Is he well? Tell me," McCoy pleaded. "Did he seek you out, is that it? He found Jim Kirk's son, and - "

"No, I am not Captain Kirk's son. I'll tell you all that I can." The stranger sat back on his heels, one hand resting lightly on McCoy's arm. "Have you ever heard of the theory of alternate universes?"

"Vaguely." McCoy frowned in concentration. "I remember listening to Spock and Scotty discussing it once, but most of it went over my head. As I remember, it's an argument that parallel universes exist alongside ours, possibly similar, possibly very different."

"It is more than a theory, for I am the James Kirk from one of those alternate universes. There is much that I cannot tell you, but after your friend died, Spock learned that these alternate universes do exist, and realised that in some other reality Jim Kirk still lived, and might have need of him. He was able to... to study the alternate time-lines, and eventually learned to pass between them. He... He found me in great peril, and came to my aid - then for many reasons he could not leave me. He remained in my universe."

"Did a Spock not already exist there?" McCoy asked.

"He had done - but he died." For a moment the hazel eyes fell. "One of the differences was, he'd been Captain, I was First Officer. Spock assumed his place."

"It must have been a comfort to you both, to have found each other. Your Spock's death must have grieved you."

Colour flooded the pale cheeks. "Forgive me, but I cannot bear to speak of it, even now," Kirk said quietly. "His death left the ship in grave danger, and I was in no fit state to take command. Spock saved my life and my sanity. He made his home in my universe, and we were content, until... until it became necessary for him to return here."

"What brought him back?"

"You did."

"I?"

"Well, your counterpart in my universe - 'my' Dr. McCoy. He's dying, and Spock came to ask your help."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Xenopolycythemia."

"I remember. It was a long time ago."

"Yonada no longer exists in my universe - another difference. Spock thought to come back, get the formula for the treatment from you. But then - "

McCoy sat up quickly, noting Kirk's increased pallor. "That's enough for now - you can tell me the rest later. You're exhausted," he said firmly.

"I'm all right," Kirk insisted, his eyes following McCoy as the doctor stood up and reached for his medical kit. "It's only the after-effects of the transfer. What matters is that something went wrong - Spock didn't come back."

"So you came after him, huh?"

"Yes, I - " Kirk's eyes widened as McCoy pressed a hypo to his shoulder. "No - You don't understand. I must... " His voice faded as he slumped unconscious.

"A few hours won't make that much difference," McCoy grunted as he lifted the limp body and carried Kirk into the spare bedroom. "You'll be more use to Spock - wherever he is - once you're rested."

Gently he drew the cover over the sleeping figure, then stood looking down at the well-remembered face. It was an almost incredible story, yet somehow McCoy knew that it was true, knew it with a certainty that went beyond reason, beyond probability, as he responded in the old way to the presence of Jim Kirk.

An alternate universe... Jim alive and well, Spock once more at his side... Wait, though! What had Jim said? Spock had returned here, was missing...

The Vulcan would have tried to reach him - that at least was certain. McCoy went into the small office he used at home and checked the recorded calls made to his number during his absence. There was nothing he could not account for, no name he did not recognise, no message that could have been an attempted contact by the Vulcan.

Thinking hard, McCoy moved into the kitchen and automatically prepared a light supper. Perhaps when Jim woke he would have some idea where to start looking - he would have known Spock's plans.

If only there was someone he could trust, someone he could ask for help, but the disappearance of Commodore Spock had mystified Starfleet - here on Vulcan even the most indirect enquiry about him would quickly reach the ears of a higher authority. McCoy quailed at the possible complications of Starfleet Command learning of the alternate universes. No, he and Jim must tackle it alone - but how?

The door signal chimed and, making sure the bedroom door was firmly shut, McCoy went to answer it; he half expected to see the men who had been pursuing Kirk, but instead the door slid aside to reveal a totally unexpected figure - and the answer to his wish of a few moments ago.

"Scotty!" McCoy grabbed the engineer's arm and pulled him inside. "Scotty, am I ever glad to see you!"

"I thought tae surprise ye, Leonard." The engineer returned McCoy's hug of welcome. "I'm addressing a conference here on Vulcan in a few days, but I came on early tae have some time with an auld friend. Man, it's been a long time! But you're lookin' well, Leonard."

"You too, Scotty. Oh, this is marvellous - you couldn't have come at a better time. There's something - someone - I want you to see. You won't believe it - I hardly can myself, but... Oh, come and see for yourself!"

Half laughing, half crying, McCoy led the bewildered engineer into the bedroom, turned the lamp on at its lowest setting, and pointed to the bed, watching his friend's face as his eyes slowly made out the sleeping figure.

Bewilderment, hope, confusion, recognition, flitted across Scotty's face in rapid succession. "Jim Kirk? Och, it canna be." Stunned, he sat down quickly on the bed.

The sudden weight disturbed Kirk, who stirred restlessly. McCoy moved closer, anticipating the moment when he awoke, savouring Scotty's startled delight.

"Spock." Half asleep, Kirk reached out and touched the engineer's shoulder. He murmured a few words in Vulcan, then opened his eyes, blinking sleepily as he focused on the face leaning over him.

To McCoy's utter astonishment, horror and despair clouded the hazel eyes, and Kirk shrank back as far as he could.

"Scotty - I'm sorry! I didn't mean... Forgive me..." The disjointed words were scarcely audible as Kirk turned away, burying his face in the pillow. "I can face my other ghosts now - but not yours, Scotty - never yours. You were kind to me once... Don't punish me now - please..."

Suddenly McCoy realised what was wrong. "Jim, wake up." He caught Kirk's shoulder, alarmed at the violent trembling of the body under his hands, and pulled Kirk round to face him. "Don't you remember where you are? This isn't your universe - it's the one Spock came from." And what was your relationship with Scotty there, when you're so afraid of him here? his unspoken thought continued.

"What...?" Scotty began, but McCoy waved him to silence.

"Jim, there's nothing to fear. Remember what happened."

Slowly the trembling stopped, and Kirk raised his head, the shadows clearing from his eyes as he came fully awake.

"I was dreaming, and forgot. I thought..." He looked at Scotty, and the engineer frowned in concern at the mixture of shame and joy in the eyes that shyly met his.

"The other - alive here," Kirk whispered almost to himself.

"Leonard, what's goin' on?" Scotty demanded. "Who's this?"

Quickly McCoy repeated the story as he knew it, and the engineer shook his head in confusion.

"Alternate universe? Aye, I know the theory. Spock alive, you say? And this is an alternate of Captain Kirk? Well, I've seen odd enough things in my time no' tae believe ye, laddie. But Captain... Jim... What the devil do I call you?"

"Call me 'Jim', please," Kirk said quietly. "I'm First Officer of the Enterprise in my universe, and not your Captain - though I know enough of him to respect him as you do."

"Jim, then." Scotty hesitated. "Why do you look at me as though you'd seen a ghost? I'd like fine tae help ye, but how can I do that if you dinna trust me?"

"It's not that." Kirk coloured painfully. "In my universe, you - your counterpart - he's dead, and it was my fault. Knowing that, can you trust me?"

Scotty looked deep into the troubled eyes. "I can," he said firmly. "Spock trusts ye, and that's good enough for me. Forbye that, James Kirk was my friend - and still is."

"Thank you, Scotty." Kirk smiled for a moment, and both men caught their breath as the old magic wove its spell again, ensnaring them both as willing captives in the web of Kirk's charm.

"Thank you both, my friends," Kirk continued. "There's not much more to tell. Spock reached Vulcan - I know that from the readings on the equipment - but obviously he didn't contact you, Bones. Something happened to him, and I must find out what."

"Do you know where he intended to arrive on Vulcan?" McCoy asked.

"When Spock commanded the Starbase he had a hidden workroom in the cellar of his house there. It was the one place he had precise co-ordinates for, and where he could be sure of materialising unseen. But he got beyond the cellar - I came that way, and there was no sign of him."

"Could he have had some sort of accident leaving the base?" Scotty asked.

"Spock knew the base better than any man alive. Besides, an injured man would have been found by Security and brought to sickbay, whatever was done with him after that," McCoy pointed out. "Even if it happened when I wasn't there, I see all reports as a matter of course, and there was nothing like that."

"Not an accident, then, and he wouldn't worry Jim by unnecessary delay," Scotty mused. "He'd have contacted McCoy if he'd been able to - so that means he was prevented."

"Prevented?" Kirk looked first puzzled, then alarmed. "Oh my god - the press gangs!"

"No, not that." Scotty shook his head positively. "Not even the most desperate Captain would risk shipping a shanghaied Vulcan. I was thinking more of the base itself. Jim, there are many people on Vulcan who would recognise Commodore Spock. Suppose..." He seemed reluctant to finish the thought. "Suppose he was recognised and captured? Isn't it possible that he's being held secretly while Starfleet investigates his disappearance? They'd call it desertion."

"They'd want to know where he's been all this time, and why he came back." Kirk pursued the thought. "They'd question him... Yes, it's possible. How do we find him?"

"Bluff," McCoy offered. "I'll go and see Sendak in the morning."

"Sendak?" Kirk broke in.

"Spock's cousin. He commands Starbase Vulcan now."

"In the other universe he's no friend of ours," Kirk said worriedly, remembering how the man had attempted to frighten him on the day of his bonding.

"He's no' an easy man," Scotty comforted, "but he's fair and honourable. He'll no' harm Spock, or allow him to be harmed."

"That's true," McCoy agreed. "I'll go and see him, tell him I've heard a rumour that Commodore Spock has been seen on Vulcan. If he denies it we'll have to think again, but I'm sure he won't tell me a direct lie. If Spock is here, I'll get in to see him."

"Is there any way I could come with you?"

"It's an additional risk," McCoy frowned.

"Not for me - remember, I'm twenty years dead on this Vulcan. Besides, I think it important that I come - whatever Sendak tells you, if Spock is on the base, I'll know."

"How can you?" Scotty looked puzzled..

"In my universe, Vulcans are telepathic. Apparently they have the potential here too, but it's a latent ability. Spock learned to develop his powers, and we are aware of each other; that's why I'm so sure he's alive."

"Oh, I see - I think. Hmmm, it won't be easy to get you onto the base... Hey, that Security alert! So that's why Sendak ordered it! I have an idea though... Tell you what, Jim. Get some rest - there's nothing we can do tonight anyway. In the morning I'll make a few calls, and if things work out all right I should be able to get you into the base."

"0kay, Bones - I am tired." McCoy smiled faintly at Kirk's unconscious use of the old nickname - it was going to be pleasant to hear it again, even for a brief time. "Goodnight, Scotty - I'll see you in the morning."

McCoy covered his guest with a blanket again, dimmed the light, then beckoned Scotty to follow him from the room. "I'd say we deserve a drink, Scotty."

"Aye." The engineer gazed back at the closed door. "Who'd have thought it? Jim Kirk and Spock... Thanks, Leonard." He took the glass, drained it, and held it out for a refill. "Did you see how he looked at me? Leonard, something terrible's happened tae the lad - it fair broke ma heart tae see that expression in his eyes, and know I'm the cause o' it."

"Not you - your counterpart. Talk to him, Scotty. I got the impression..."

"Aye?"

"I got the impression he needs... I don't know... Your forgiveness, perhaps. You saw how he was - nervous, ashamed and overjoyed all at once. It's going to be hard to remember he's not Captain Kirk, Scotty - but he is Jim Kirk, and any help I can give him, I will. But he needs something from you, too. Will you give it?"

"If I can," Scotty promised.

In McCoy's small guest room Jim Kirk tossed restlessly, too worried to sleep despite his aching tiredness. The effects of the 'transporter' seemed to have hit him harder than they had done Spock - though this was his first time, and the Vulcan had used the mechanism several times before. Could it have affected him somehow? A cumulative effect, distorting his judgement and reflexes, rendering him vulnerable? It was possible.

At last, abandoning the futile attempt to sleep, Kirk sat up in bed, hugging his knees, his eyes fixed on the brilliant stars so familiar to him now, identical to the ones that shone over his adopted world. He longed desperately to be back there in the only home he had known since his early childhood, to be safe in his room with Spock asleep just through the wall; and in the morning there would be Sarek's grave welcome, T'Pau's affectionate greeting...

But no. This was Spock's true home, he remembered. For a moment his old doubt and uncertainty filled him. Could it be - could it possibly be - that Spock, finding himself once more in his own world, had regretted the impulse that had sent him into exile, bound him to Kirk? Had he simply decided to stay here, to return to the family, the friends, the life that had been his? Had he finally tired of Kirk's dependence on him?

No gain, Kirk told himself firmly. The love he had felt through their half-formed bond was so great, so enduring, that the Vulcan would not even consider the idea of parting. More, there was McCoy, the innocent cause of his journey. McCoy, so desperately ill, his very life depending on the success of the quest. Whatever else, Spock would not permit their loyal friend to die without making every effort to save him.

Something was holding Spock here against his will, Kirk was certain. He dismissed out-of-hand the thought that the Vulcan might be dead, for incomplete though it was, he would have felt the severance of their bond. True, he would live if Spock died, for only the rare totally-comitteded bonding established a link deep enough to draw both partners into a shared death, but the part of his mind that was Spock's living presence still radiated its gentle warmth.

With a sudden need to touch his bondmate's mind Kirk reached out, calling, praying for an answer. He had reached Spock before over an immense distance... but he had been on the point of death then. For a moment he lay still, his mind open, receptive to catch the faintest echo of Spock's thoughts - but there was nothing.

He could be hurt - or ill. Kirk's heart jolted in fear. Perhaps they were wrong, perhaps Spock had been injured by the transfer process. Or the Security guards at the base might have harmed him. Yet if they had McCoy would have heard about it...

Vulcans are civilised! Kirk told himself sternly. They wouldn't - couldn't - leave an injured man without treatment.

What do you know of this Vulcan? Fear mocked him in the depths of his mind. Sendak commands here - and he took pleasure in tormenting you, did he not?

"He's different here - Scotty and McCoy both trust him." Kirk was unaware of having spoken aloud.

Then perhaps he wasn't captured, Fear suggested slyly. He could be hiding somewhere, unable to seek help. McCoy said there was a Security alert at the base.

"I had no trouble getting out."

You are clearly a Human - they'd be looking for a Vulcan. He could be trapped on the base, hurt, in pain, unable to reach McCoy, unable to return to the cellar. He could be dying...

SPOCK! Kirk gathered all his fear, all his determination, all his love, and projected his thoughts as intensely as he could. If you can feel me - I'm coming. I'll find you - believe me, I'll find you somehow!

There was no response to his cry, no way to tell if he had been heard or not. There was nothing more that he could do. As the sedative McCoy had given him earlier finally took effect again, Kirk slid down in the bed and closed his eyes wearily.

The following morning Scotty was halfway through an early breakfast when the spare room door opened and Kirk appeared. He smiled nervously at the engineer.

"Good morning. Where's Bones?"

"He went out early - he said to be sure you ate breakfast. Here, sit down."

"Thanks." Kirk slid into a chair and took the coffee Scotty handed him; as he sipped it his eyes kept returning to the other man's face, then flickering quickly away.

"Want to talk about it, Jim?"

"Huh?"

"Whatever it is about me that bothers you. Seems to me, Jim, it'd be easier on us both if we got it out into the open."

"You're right, of course - and you do have a right to know as much as I can tell you." Kirk stared down at his clasped hands. Without raising his eyes he continued painfully. "My life was... very different... from that of the Captain Kirk you knew. I grew up alone, with no family, no-one who cared whether I lived or died. I'm telling you that not as an excuse, not to gain your sympathy, but to help you understand why I was so desperate for kindness, affection - and why, when I thought I'd found it, I acted like a fool. Oh, I was clever enough academically - I won a scholarship to Starfleet Academy, graduated first in my class. I was even proud, when I was accepted for Command training, that I'd done it all by myself. The Enterprise was my first ship, under Captain Pike, then I served on the Farragut for a time, with spells on the Defiant and the Excalibur. Then I was transferred back to the Enterprise as Science Officer and eventually First Officer. I liked working with Captain Pike again, though we had little in common. They'd been good years for me - but I was so lonely... "

His voice faded, and Scotty watched the intent, brooding face, then dropped his gaze to Kirk's hands, noting idly that the younger man was turning a heavy gold ring on the fourth finger of his left hand - a nervous habit, the Scotsman assumed.

"I met someone," Kirk resumed at last. "At first he seemed everything I'd ever wanted in a friend - he made me feel... special, cared for... I trusted him... "

Gary Mitchell? Finnegan? Scotty wondered. Not Finnegan, for sure. It must have been Mitchell - history repeating itself.

"It was all a sick pretence, a trick to gain my confidence," Kirk went on. "He didn't want a friend - he wanted a... an obedient, docile, unquestioning follower. It took me a while to realise that, and when I did it was too late - he had a hold over me I didn't have the strength to break."

"Surely Spock would have helped you?"

"I... didn't know Spock then." It was no lie, Kirk told himself; he never thought of the Captain as 'Spock'. "I did many things I'm ashamed of," he continued slowly, "and the difficult thing now is that I can't fully explain why, or the nature of the power he had over me - it's one of the differences between our universes that he was able to do it, but he held my will captive, controlled me... "

"It's all right - I understand." Scotty thought fleetingly of the insane, no-longer-Human destroyer Mitchell had become. "Just tell me what happened."

"It got worse - but for the most part I was the only one he harmed. Then... I swear to you, Scotty, I didn't know what he planned! Your counterpart got too close to the truth, and had to be... eliminated. Because he trusted me, I was the bait in the trap - I led him to his death. I watched, and could do nothing. I loathed myself then, and what I'd become... and oh god, there was no escape for me! Then - soon after - Spock came, and freed me. I learned how to live again, to be happy... but you were dead - and it was my fault. Even Spock couldn't erase my guilt."

"And then your Spock died?" Scotty prompted as Kirk fell silent, absorbed in his memories.

"Hmmm? Oh, yes. Then the other - the Commodore - entered my universe. The Captain was dead, the ship was in danger, and I was unable to cope. He took command, saved us all. Afterwards... It was going to be difficult to explain what had happened, and only McCoy knew of the Captain's death. Spock needed me as much as I needed him, he wanted to stay, and I wanted... It seemed easier just to carry on as we were. We became very close. He showed me how to live with my guilt at last." Very near the truth, Kirk added mentally, then continued aloud, "The one thing I'd give my life to change is what happened to your counterpart; there might have been some way I could have saved him if I hadn't been such a weak, trusting coward."

"You suffered too, I think." Scotty's voice was very gentle as he reached out to touch the restless hands. "Laddie, what's done is done, and all your tears canna' change it. You didna' wish for my death, and you've paid too long for another's crime. Will you no' take an old man's advice, Jim, and let it be? There's much you've not told me, I know that fine, and it's your own pain and sorrow you're hiding. Look tae the future, laddie, and be happy, with my blessing."

"Thank you, Scotty." Kirk returned the handclasp. "I needed to hear that, more than you know. I've often thought... he would have forgiven me if he knew what really happened - but you can't explain to a dead man."

"Aye." Scotty tightened his grip for a moment. "Let's close that chapter, shall we? It's your Vulcan we've got to think of now."

"I know." Kirk rose and began to pace restlessly. "I wish McCoy would get back. "

"And your wish is my command." McCoy hurried into the room, carrying a light travelling bag. "You look better, Jim. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thanks. You and my McCoy have the same skill with a hypo. Any news?"

"Yes and no." McCoy sat down at the table. "Give me some coffee, Scotty. Thanks. I haven't been to the base yet, but I have found a way to get you inside." He gestured with his cup. "Open the case."

Kirk obeyed, and found a tunic and trousers of fine blue material, a pair of knee-high boots, and a length of cloth that matched the suit, but had no purpose that he could recognise.

"Just what we needed," grinned McCoy. "I thought of Vanek last night, but I had to make sure he'd agree first. One of my students," he explained, "from the hill tribes of Marabec. He'll be a fine doctor one of these days. Here, let me show you." Rising, McCoy took the length of cloth from Kirk and settled it over his head, binding it in place with a blue and white cord. "The loose end is caught up over the face - like this. It's standard dress for a Hillman - the headcloth has a religious significance, like the turbans of the Sikhs. The point is, the guards at the base, even Sendak himself, are so used to seeing Vanek accompany me that no-one will suspect you're not him."

"But won't he ask questions?"

"No. There's a complex relationship of trust between a physician and his students on Marabec. I gave Vanek my word that I needed his help for an honourable purpose, to help a friend, and he accepted my assurance. The responsibilities of friendship are highly recognised in his culture. He'll stay out of sight until he's needed, and when he is he'll tell exactly the story we want him to tell. Don't worry, Jim - he knows how to get round any truth drug or lie detector test Starfleet cares to try - so do I, for that matter. We'll have a story ready that no-one can disprove. Now go and get changed - we have an appointment with Sendak in just over an hour."

Commodore Sendak schooled his face to its most expressionless mask as Dr. McCoy bustled into his office. He had a great respect for the surgeon, and though it could not be doubted that the man was too inclined to be ruled by his emotions to suit the Vulcan taste, he was no fool - and Sendak had a secret he wished to guard from this man above all others.

He looked up enquiringly as McCoy planted himself in front of his desk, his blue eyes cold and intent, and the Human's first words destroyed any hope of secrecy.

"What have you done with Spock?" McCoy barked.

"Doctor, I scarcely think - " Sendak glanced meaningfully at McCoy's assistant, who stood just inside the door, watching silently.

"You don't have to worry about Vanek - he knows how to keep a still tongue in his head. Just answer my question."

"As you know, Commodore Spock disappeared - "

"Sendak, let's not play logic games." McCoy rested his hands on the desk and leaned closer. "People talk, you know, even on Vulcan. I know why you ordered that Security alert. Now, are we going to double-talk around the subject for the next hour? Where is Spock?"

"Under close detention in the Security section," Sendak admitted quietly. "No-one, save the guard who arrested him, the Security Chief and I, know his identity."

"Why such secrecy?"

"Doctor! Commodore Spock is - was - a respected figure on Vulcan, and in Starfleet. Three years ago he deserted his command, vanished without trace - now he is picked up in the heart of the very Starbase he deserted. He refuses to give any explanation for his absence, any account of where he has been, or the reason for his return. Starfleet Command has been notified, and by their order the Commodore is being held in close confinement until an investigation has been completed and charges decided."

"Charges? What charges?"

"Desertion, certainly. Possibly treason - he may well have been in the Romulan Empire. He was once offered a position of importance there - he might have decided to accept it."

"Spock a traitor? Don't be a bigger fool than you can help, man."

"The possibility exists, and cannot be ignored. If his long absence was involuntary, the logical thing to do would be to offer an explanation and give all possible information on his abduction. This he refuses to do."

"That doesn't sound like Spock. I suppose you're quite sure it is him?"

"Indeed. Full identity checks have been run."

"I want to see him."

"That cannot be permitted."

"It'd better be! I'm talking as Doctor McCoy, Sendak. By your own admission, no-one knows where Spock has been these three years. Any Starfleet officer who has been exposed to unknown hazards must be medically examined - you know that as well as I do. Besides, I'll have to see him eventually - Starfleet will need an evaluation of his mental condition."

The Vulcan nodded, conceding defeat. "This is top security," he warned.

McCoy grunted. "I've had top security clearance for over thirty years - and my senior students automatically have it too."

"Come, then. You will need my personal authorisation to gain admittance."

The two Security guards saluted smartly as Sendak halted outside a locked cell.

"Admit Dr. McCoy and his assistant," he ordered. "Inform me when he leaves."

"Yes, Commodore." The guards unlocked the cell - McCoy noted that the lock required two keys, one held by each - and swung open the heavy door. For a moment he wondered why this ancient method of confinement was being used rather than the force-field cells, then realised that with a force-field anyone passing the cell could see - and perhaps recognise - the prisoner. The use of the ancient cell was a blessing in this case, though, for it would give privacy for the interview with Spock.

The door thudded into place behind them, and Kirk's controlled stillness shattered; with a low cry of "Spock!" he sprang forward to the man who had risen from a low couch at their entrance.

Remembering how Spock had always disliked open displays of emotion, McCoy was startled when the impetuous figure was received with open arms. The two men hugged fiercely for a moment, then Kirk pulled back, searching the other's face anxiously.

"Are you all right?"

Spock raised one hand to Kirk's shoulder, and with the other unwound the disguising headcloth. "I am well," he said quietly. "But Jim - you should not have followed me. The danger - "

"The only danger I thought of was that I'd never see you again," Kirk said softly. "I was sure you were alive; I tried to reach you last night - "

"I believe I sensed your nearness, Jim. I could not touch your mind, but somehow I was no longer alone. I had confidence, a belief that all would be well... But how did you gain access to the Starbase?"

"I had help." Kirk nodded over the Vulcan's shoulder, and Spock swung round, realising for the first time that Kirk was not alone.

"Dr. McCoy!"

The surgeon found himself grinning, overwhelmed by the surprised pleasure in the Vulcan's tone. He could not quite bring himself to hug Spock as Kirk had done, but he gripped his arms tightly.

"Spock, it's been so long. It's good to see you."

A slanting eyebrow rose. "No questions, McCoy? No doubts, no worries about my loyalty?"

"Yours? I'd as soon doubt my own." McCoy's voice was rough with unshed tears as he glanced aside for a moment at the Human's glowing face. "Besides, I always knew where your first loyalty lay. Jim has told me as much as he can - I understand, Spock."

"Thank you, my friend. You know, then, about your counterpart?"

"Yes. I've given Jim the formula for the drug, and my notes on treatment. It's easy enough to make up once you know what's in it. You can't stay, of course?" His tone was wistful.

"I cannot. My life is there now - with Jim."

"I envy you that." McCoy looked longingly at the young face, the eyes shining as only Kirk's could at his reunion with his friend. Confidence radiated from him - now McCoy saw indeed the young Captain Kirk he remembered so vividly.

Unconsciously, he sighed. "No, it wouldn't be the same, would it? You're lucky - you have it all to do again. Me - well, I'm too old now, I can't go back... and there's no place for you any more in this world - or for Jim. It's just... I miss you both."

"I know." Spock's voice was very gentle.

"Don't mind me - just feeling my age, I guess. At least you're both alive, and together. Now, what we need is a way to get you out of here."

"You know this base better than I do, and it might have changed since Spock was here," Kirk said. "Any ideas, Bones?"

"Getting you out of the Security section is hopeless. If you were in sickbay something could be arranged."

"That might be possible," Spock said thoughtfully. "If I appeared to be in a coma, I would have to be removed to sickbay."

"No use." McCoy shook his head. "I wasn't allowed to bring any drugs with me."

"None are necessary. I have learned certain techniques unknown on this world. It is possible for me to put myself into a trance so deep that all my life signs will appear very low - the only requirement is that Jim must be on hand to recall me."

"Since he's posing as my assistant there'll be no trouble there - he'll have free access to sickbay. Anything else?"

"Sendak has the control mechanism for the 'transporter'. We must have it to return home."

"We can worry about that later," McCoy said. "First, let's get you out of here."

"When do you wish me to begin?"

"It'd be better to wait a little - then your collapse won't be too obviously linked with my visit."

"During my interrogation I was given several drugs to encourage me to speak. They were harmless, Jim," Spock added hastily as Kirk looked at him with anxiety. "I was able to resist them easily, but if I had an allergic reaction..."

"Well thought of, Spock." McCoy grinned. "I'll tell the guards I'm worried, and ask them to check on you every thirty minutes. If you could seem normal on the first check, then increasingly ill, until they find you unconscious, say two hours from now? It'll seem more natural that way."

"Very well - in two hours. Jim, you must leave now."

"Yes. Take care, Spock." Kirk and Spock touched hands briefly in a seemingly ritual gesture McCoy found teasingly familiar, though he could not place it; then Kirk replaced his headcloth and moved to McCoy's side.

"Guards! I've finished here - you can let me out." Over his shoulder McCoy added softly, "Good luck, Spock."

Just over two hours later a wheeled stretcher was brought into sickbay, escorted by the two guards, and with Sendak himself in attendance. McCoy's eyes widened as he took readings - if he had not been warned, he would have thought that Spock was dying.

"Total life support, Vanek!" As his assistant guided the stretcher into the isolation ward McCoy planted himself squarely in front of the two guards as they made to follow."And where the hell do you think you're going?" he demanded belligerently.

"We must take precautions," Sendak intervened. "If he should escape..."

"Escape? In his condition?" McCoy glared at the Vulcan. "I'm going to have your head for this, Sendak! Pumping god alone knows what drugs into a prisoner without proper medical supervision!"

"Only a mild truth serum. It could not have caused - "

"Thank you, Doctor Sendak! It didn't occur to you, I suppose, that he might have developed an allergy to your 'mild' serum? Couldn't wait to find out what he'd been up to, could you? Now, perhaps, you'll never know. Now get out of here, and let me get on with my job of saving this man's life. Leave your wretched guards in the corridor, if you must, but I won't have them getting in my way here."

"Very well - there is only this one entrance to sickbay." Sendak peered through the observation panel into the room where the Marabeccan physician was busy attaching life support to Spock's motionless body. "He certainly seems in no state to be dangerous. You will inform me of any change in his condition?"

"Of course. Now get out." McCoy watched with satisfaction as the guards left to take up their position in the corridor, then entered the isolation unit, locked the door behind him, and blanked out the observation panel.

"Is it safe?" Kirk asked, removing the connections he had just set.

"Yes - you can bring him out of it now."

McCoy watched with curiosity as Kirk touched his fingers to the Vulcan's face, then frowned in intense concentration. After some moments he withdrew his hand, and before the astonished surgeon could prevent him, crashed his open hand against Spock's cheek.

"Jim!"

"I know what I'm doing."

Another blow landed - and another - and another. Kirk was drawing back his arm for the fifth time when Spock's hand rose from the bed and closed around his wrist.

"That will be sufficient," the Vulcan said tranquilly. "What are you doing, McCoy?"

"My job," the doctor grunted. "That serum might have affected you, you know." He concentrated on his scanner. "These cockeyed readings of yours, Spock - I'd forgotten how peculiar they are. Even with that, I don't like the look of them."

"I think it more likely to be the effects of the cross-universe transfer," Spock answered.

"Are you all right?" Kirk's voice was sharp with anxiety. "If you've been harmed - "

"I am only tired," Spock said reassuringly. "Sendak's questioning was thorough, and I needed to use considerable strength to combat the drug."

"If you're sure." Kirk extended his hand, and again they touched in that almost-familiar gesture.

"Spock," McCoy broke in almost apologetically. "About that mechanism of yours. Do you know where it is?"

"In Sendak's office."

"I was just thinking - perhaps I could get it for you. I can come and go without suspicion."

"It was in his safe - and I observed that he had not changed the combination. Do you remember it?"

"Yes - I should have no problem."

"Wait - there's something else. During one of the interrogation sessions, Sendak brought the control with him to question me about it. Someone had taken it apart - presumably to try and deduce its purpose. I observed that two of the smaller components were missing."

"Can you replace them?"

"It would be very difficult. I must, therefore, request a further service from you. There is an unfinished mechanism in my cellar workroom - if memory serves me, it contains the parts I need. Would you get it for me?"

"Of course. But how do I get to the cellar?"

The Vulcan described the access to the workroom, then added, "The combination on the door is the same as that to the safe. You should have no difficulty."

"I'll try my best," McCoy promised. "Now I'd better put in an appearance before anyone gets suspicious." He glanced at the time. "We'll soon have you out of here - but I'll have to call Scotty first."

"What do I do?" Kirk asked.

"Stay out of sight. In here's the best place - after all, we do have a patient in intensive care."

"What if the guards come in to check on Spock's condition? I may look like Vanek, all muffled up like this, but my voice - I haven't even heard it, to try to imitate it."

McCoy grunted. "Vanek doesn't talk much at the best of times - very taciturn people, the Hillmen of Marabec. Your best plan would probably be to wave impatiently at the diagnostic panel - though goodness knows the readings all look normal enough now! But I'll give instructions that you mustn't be disturbed. Intensive care, critical condition - there are plenty of medical phrases to toss at the guards, and they'll be glad to stay away in case they get it all again from you! "

"Don't overdo it," Spock warned. "You have your reputation as a doctor to consider, and my miraculous recovery will strain that as it is."

McCoy shook his head. "Sendak saw the readings. He's a very frightened man right now, Spock, make no mistake. He knows he acted outwith his authority over the truth serum - a doctor should have been present before any drug, no matter how mild, was given. That fright will make him think twice before he questions my diagnosis. Add to that, your readings fooled me, a doctor, as completely as they fooled him. He'll agree with my report; he's too honest not to, and besides it makes him look less of a fool if the doctor was tricked too."

It was, in fact, less than an hour later that McCoy returned, followed by Scotty, who grinned broadly at the sight of the Vulcan.

"Commodore! It's grand tae see you!"

"Mr. Scott." Though quiet, Spock's voice was warm with pleasure, and Kirk drew aside a little, conceding without resentment that these old friends must claim Spock's attention now; but almost at once the Vulcan reached out, drawing Kirk to his side.

In three years he has grown so old! Spock thought with surprise, and observed for the first time that silver gleamed in McCoy's hair too. No, not three years, he corrected himself. More than twenty - but grief blinded me. Forgive me, friends, for not seeing that you mourned him too.

"It's like nothing has changed." The engineer was looking at the two men with wonder. "Can you no' see it, Leonard? Jim Kirk, with Spock at his side, as we knew them. Och, if we could only have those days back again!"

"Please - do not... " Spock stepped forward and touched the engineer's shoulder.

"I know - it canna be. But leave an old man his dream, laddie." Scott's face tightened in determination. "We're wasting time."

"Yes, you've got to get out of here." McCoy shook his head, scattering the memories that had filled his eyes too. "Scotty will take you to a safe place where you can wait until I've had a chance to get to your mechanism."

"But if Spock escapes from here you'll be blamed," Kirk reminded them. "We can't let you be blamed..."

"No fear of that." McCoy chuckled as they moved out of the isolation ward into sickbay. "We have it all planned."

On one of the sickbay beds lay a figure dressed identically to Kirk, but bound and gagged. "Vanek came in with Scotty," McCoy explained. "Tie me up when you leave, then when he's taken you to safety Scotty will come back here openly and ask to see me. If the guards haven't been in here earlier to check on Spock, they'll find me then. It'll look as though Spock recovered unexpectedly, or else they'll think he was faking. Either way, Vanek will back my story."

"How can we leave without the guards seeing us?" Spock asked.

McCoy grinned. "You're as bad as Sendak - you've forgotten too." McCoy pressed a button which opened a sliding panel in the wall. "It's not much used, thankfully," he continued. "The passage leads from here to the mortuary, then on to emerge into a side street. We only use it to remove bodies - I've never liked trailing them all through the base - but for some reason Security never can seem to remember about it."

"Just as well," Scotty grunted. "Vanek and I came in that way, and saw never a soul. We'd best be moving, though, in case my aircar attracts attention. See you later, Leonard."

"You'd better tie me first," the doctor reminded them.

"Sorry."

Gently, but thoroughly, Scotty bound McCoy hand and foot, slipped a gag into place, then placed the doctor carefully on the bed. With a last glance the small party hurried through the panel into the dimly-lit tunnel beyond.

The street was deserted when they emerged and hurried into the aircar. Scotty took off at once, flying high enough for the occupants to be out of sight of anyone on the ground.

"You'd best make yourselves comfortable," he said. "We've a way tae go, and I daren't fly too fast in case we attract attention."

"Comfortable?" Kirk grimaced. A two-seater, the aircar was a tight fit for three, and to give Scotty room to manoeuvre Kirk and Spock had to huddle together in the passenger seat.

They flew in silence for some minutes before Kirk said, "Where are we going?"

"McCoy gave me directions - he said it was a place Spock often went. It seemed best tae take you somewhere familiar." As he spoke Scotty glanced at his passengers, and saw that Spock had fallen asleep, encircled by Kirk's arm, his head resting on the Human's shoulder.

"He was very tired." Kirk spoke softly. "Apart from anything else, he had little sleep before he came away - it took him several days to build the 'transporter'."

"Aye. He must think a lot of you, Jim."

"He does. But what made you say it?"

"Seeing him like that. Before - he never liked to be touched. Oh, he'd let J... the Captain, sometimes, but I've never seen him so relaxed with anyone."

"He knows how much I need him. Perhaps that's why - he always tried to make up to me for... for what happened."

"Jim - " Scotty swallowed. "Will you... will you take care of him in that world of yours? He belongs with you now - a blind man could see that. But..."

"I understand, Scotty." Kirk smiled affectionately at the older man. "You - and McCoy - you love him too."

"Love? Aye - I suppose we do."

They landed some fifty miles from the Starbase. Spock woke as the aircar came to rest, and glanced round. "A good choice, Mr. Scott."

"McCoy's suggestion, as I told Jim. Here, gi' me a hand wi' these crates - we packed a few supplies in case it takes longer than we hope."

They unloaded a couple of boxes, carrying them to the shade of some bushlike plants. Straightening, Scott looked at Spock. "That should do for a day or two," he said.

Kirk looked around. It was very like a place where he and Spock had spent a week's leave some months ago.

It could only be called an oasis, although there was no sizable pool of water in sight. An area of perhaps a hundred square yards was quite heavily vegetated; a strip a further hundred yards or so in width surrounded this - a strip in which plants still grew, but more sparsely, their growth stunted by lack of sufficient water. One or two hardy succulents advanced beyond that again, fighting an apparently drawn battle with the relentless sun that sought to dehydrate everything that attempted to defy it.

The plants were all succulents, some of them barrel-shaped like many varieties of Terran cactus, others tree-like, with water-storing leaves projecting from tall stems. Some were species he recognised, both from seeing them at the other oasis and from having seen cultivated forms in T'Pau's garden, but many more were new to him, varieties that had not been growing at the other oasis.

There was no sign of man-made shelter, and as he already knew, they needed none; instead they simply set up a camp of sorts in the shade of a clump of succulents whose heavy, fleshy leaves drooped almost to the ground. Spock selected one that grew some distance from the small spring that would provide them with the water necessary for their survival. A moment's thought served to show Kirk why they did not camp among the succulents beside the spring; this was certainly the water supply for many desert animals whose routine would be disturbed by the presence of men. Besides, any search there might be would certainly be centered on the available water.

"I'll be leaving now," Scotty was saying. "Either McCoy or I will be over to let you know how things are going. Don't be alarmed if you don't see us for a few days, though - we'd best let things settle down first."

The two men watched the aircar out of sight, then Kirk turned to his companion. "Come and eat," he suggested quietly. "Then get some rest - you must be exhausted."

"I am," Spock admitted, "and since we can do nothing until McCoy brings the mechanism, I confess it will be pleasant to relax here, in your company, Jim."

"I know. It's just... I keep thinking of our McCoy... "

"The delay will not be dangerous to him. We have several weeks yet before the effects of the disease become irreversible."

"You're right, of course. Come on, help me find the food."

The oasis was as beautiful as its counterpart, and for a day or so they rested, content simply to be reunited; but both were too well aware of the need to retrieve the return mechanism to relax fully. Unless McCoy could get to it without arousing suspicion they were trapped here - and while they could depend on McCoy - and Scotty - to help them, both men were growing older. What would happen when they died? And Bones, back in their own universe, condemned to a life, mercifully brief, of growing helplessness? It was not a thing either man could contemplate resignedly. And while it would be possible for Spock to rebuild his mechanism yet again, since they had no free access to the components he would need it might take months - and then they would return to the same charge of desertion that faced Spock here.

To help take his mind off a problem he was helpless to solve, Kirk prowled around the oasis, studying it as he had studied the other one. The similarities were too great, however; there was little new to catch his attention. But in the distance he could see something that looked... artificial? He drew Spock's attention to it.

The Vulcan smiled. "The ruins of the ancient city of Sas-a-Shar," he explained. "Once - millennia ago - it was a thriving community, the chief city of the land of Sharrasin. The land was fertile, rich agricultural land, and Sas-a-Shar and its people thrived. But then there came a period of drought, and the crops failed. Not just one year, or two; that, they could have survived. After the third year of drought, the smaller farmers were ruined. Irrigation projects that had been set in hand failed, for there was little water to spare for irrigation; even the wells in the city were drying up. The people began to leave.

"A few stayed on for a year or two longer, but it was hopeless; the rain never fell again. Nobody knows what happened; but at that time, Vulcan's oceans also began to dry up. Perhaps the sun's radiation altered; we cannot say, for there are no records of such things. The situation is not unique; we know that other worlds have known long periods of drought where once rain forests flourished. But on Vulcan the entire planet suffers."

"Yes," Kirk said. "Great seas that dried up. There was one in the middle of the American continent once - and the Sahara Desert - "

Spock nodded. "Perhaps one day the rain will fall again and Vulcan's deserts flower once more. And yet - it has been so long. Sas-a-Shar flourished in the days of pre-recorded history; what we know of it we know from legend."

"How long is Vulcan's recorded history?" Kirk asked, curious.

"My family's records go back for over two thousand Earth years. I know of only one other family whose records go back so far - but there are a few older ones where the direct line of descent died out and the records have been maintained by remote connections."

"In geological time, ten thousand years is nothing," Kirk pointed out softly. "Arid palaeontological eras last for millions of years." He looked towards the ruins again. "Over two thousand years," he murmured. "On Earth, in much less time than that, the ruins would have been covered over by dust. What has caused these ruins to remain so... so complete, and so visible? Back home there isn't anything like that - but Sas-a--Shar and Sharrasin must have existed there too."

"I do not know," Spock replied. "I explored these ruins once; empty, but almost intact, the houses look as though their owners had simply gone away for a few days and would soon be back. There is even furniture in some of the houses."

"That sounds quite interesting," Kirk commented as he thought how sad it sounded, even reported in Spock's most matter-of-fact manner. "I'd quite like a look around the place."

Spock looked over the desert towards the ruins. "Jim, McCoy could come at any time, either with the mechanism or to let us know that the search for us has moved further away. What if he comes and we are not here?"

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that."

Kirk sounded so disappointed that Spock said slowly, "If you take care, you could go alone. I did, when I went..." But there was nobody to care whether I lived or died - or so I believed, he thought, aware now that two men at least would have cared. "You can't lose your way, for the ruins are clear; and this oasis is in full view from them - and the only one in view."

Kirk thought about it for a moment, aware of the dangers inherent in solitary desert travel over even a short distance. "I'd like to go," he said, almost apologetically. "If you don't mind."

"Why should I mind, Jim? It would be selfish for me to deny you the opportunity. Someone must remain behind, and I have already seen the ruins. They are unique - a piece of ancient Vulcan still in almost perfect repair. I doubt that any place comparable exists at home."

'At home'. Spock was not even conscious of saying it, Kirk realised. He smiled at his friend.

"I'll try not to be too long," he promised.

Spock's face relaxed into an almost-smile. "It will take you several hours to satisfy your curiosity," he warned. "Just make sure there is enough daylight left before you leave the ruins to come back. If you think you've left it too late, don't risk heading back in the half light. Wait until morning."

"All right," Kirk agreed, aware that Spock would know through their bond-link if anything happened to him. He picked up one of the waterskins Scotty had left with them, checked that it was full, and set off.

The desert sand was firm, but yielding enough to make walking pleasant, and he moved briskly at first. As he neared the ruins, however, his pace slowed.

So big... He could think of nothing comparable, yet he knew he must have seen cities as big before.

Of course. People. Or rather, the lack of them.

He had never before seen a city devoid of people, of traffic, of movement - and the movement detracted from the immensity of cities that sprawled, an enormous blight, across the land, reaching out greedy tentacles to grasp and engulf smaller towns nearby.

Kirk shivered despite the heat. Perhaps, after all, he should not have come. Much as the idea of a look at ancient Vulcan had appealed to him, he did not really like cities.

No. Cities themselves were harmless. He did not like the mentality of the compulsive city dweller. And this city was empty, its compulsive dwellers long gone. Even Vulcan had them, or Vulcan would not have cities. The Captain had been one. He had seen no beauty in T'Pau's garden, had never appeared to consider the possibility of staying anywhere, while on leave, except in a big hotel, of the Star Gardens type, in a city.

Resolutely, Kirk closed his mind to the unpleasant memories provoked by his train of thought. Their mental awareness of each other's consciousness would let Spock sense his unease, and Spock would be disturbed by it. He could not permit that.

The Human moved along the external wall formed by the backs of houses until he came to a gateway. It was not a city wall proper, he decided, for it lacked any indication of the fortifications he would have expected, knowing the warlike nature of the Vulcans of long ago, and that in itself seemed strange. He went through the doorway, and found himself in a long narrow street. Doorways, some of them still closed by wooden doors preserved - though sun-dried and warped to ill-fittingness - in the arid heat, fronted the street; windows gazed blindly across at the equally blind windows facing them. Whatever had once sealed those windows against the weather had long gone, perhaps too valuable to leave behind when the city was finally evacuated - had it been glass, or sheets of thin horn or mica such as Earth had once used? Traces of latticework still showed at the edges of some of the windows; the panes, whatever they had been made of, had been small.

He entered the first house - and his awareness of Spock immediately ceased.

In their camp, Spock tried to relax as he waited, wishing that he could have accompanied his friend. But, unexpected though a visit so soon from McCoy was, it was still a possibility that they could not ignore. The surgeon knew well enough the dangers of a departure from observed routine, but it was unlikely that he had come under any suspicion, and his routine was frequently variable. Nevertheless, as Spock's oldest living friend it was logical that a discreet watch would be kept on him in case the fugitive tried to contact him - McCoy had promised that he would make no move if there was even the slightest chance that he might betray Spock's hiding place.

Was it a mistake to allow Jim to go alone? Spock wondered. He was even more aware than Kirk of the dangers inherent in desert travel, for he was a native of this desert planet, and his upbringing had included survival techniques his adopted world did not know. He fought down the image of a sandstorm whipping through the area just as Kirk was halfway back, catching the Human unaware, blinding him, choking him...

At least he was aware of Kirk, and that awareness would serve as a guide to lead him to his bondmate, his brother, should anything go wrong. And then -

The awareness ceased. Sudden, complete, it cut off to leave him trembling with shock and an overwhelming fear for Kirk's safety.

His mind reached out, calling, even as he began to move across the dry sand towards the ruins.

Then there came an answer. Kirk's mind, radiating reassurance. Spock caught at the link and held it.

*Jim - what happened?*

*I think I know. Just let me make sure...*

Again, and just as suddenly, the awareness ceased. Spock took a few hesitant steps, wanting to believe that Kirk knew what he was doing, but afraid of taking even the slightest chance with his bondmate's safety.

*I was right.* Kirk was back. *It's the buildings, Spock - as soon as I step inside, our link is interrupted. Out of doors there's no problem.*

*It is possible that certain materials can inhibit the mind touch. If any such have been used in the construction of the city, any enclosed space would effectively wall you off from me.*

*Well, at least we know what it is,* Kirk remarked practically. *It gave me a fright when it happened, though.*

*There should be no problem, except that you might find a growing discomfort if we remain too long out of contact.*

*Why? We've never had this problem before.*

*Because until now only distance has ever separated us, a distance the link could not span. This artificial barrier interrupts the contact