LABORATORIES
~ by Leigh Hall
, I.
J Leonard McCoy stalked away from the
First Officer and stared into the black depths
of the cavernous room, trying to get a grip on
J his roiling emotions. Why, suddenly, now
when everything depended on it, couldn't
that blasted Vulcan see logic? He had been
J sure Spock would allow him to do what
needed to be done, sure he would acquiesce
to the logic of the situation. He ran a hand
over his face as if that would clear away the
r turmoil inside. Maybe if he could present it
right, if he could do it calmly, rationally, he
might get through to that stubborn, pointy-
r eared... But hell, how could he be calm about
going off to be...
He glanced back into the circle of light,
r at his sleeping captain and Spock sitting
nearby, keeping watch as he tinkered with
his tricorder, making preparations. McCoy
I swallowed and closed his eyes. Very soon
now, the Vians would come back, and they
would take him away somewhere to that-
r stark black hole of a laboratory, no doubt,
where they already had a death-tube labelled
and waiting for him - and they would do to
him what they'd done to Jim. And then
I some, apparently. That is, if he could talk
Spock into it. It seemed damned unfair to -
not only be tortured and probably killed, but
r to have to insist on it himself, argue with
Spock for it, even beg for it...
McCoy stared into the blackness and
I shivered. Death. End of existence. It seemed
such an impossible thing, even after all these
years of medical practice and military action.
r He had seen so many deaths, sometimes
watching helplessly.from the distant bridge
of a starship, more frequently fighting it
tooth and nail and scalpel from some bed-
J side. Sometimes he managed to drag them
back; too often, he didn't. Once, a few times,
.-
I
95
~ r
God help him, he had even sped them on
their way. So many deaths, and still his own
remained unthinkable. McCoy took a deep
breath and let it out again. Well, death was
the one thing everybody managed in the end.
But it was hard, having to choose it.
The Vians only wanted one of them for
their experiments; the other two would be
freed. At least he could save Jim and Spock
if the Vians could be trusted. But La! and
-
Thann had given them predous little reason
to trust them so far, and if this was yet
another trick his death would be just as
meaningless as... He straightened up and put
the brakes on that train of thought right
there.
Kirk had been instructed to pick one of
"his men." That, presumably, left the captain
out as a viable choice. It was moot now,
anyway; McCoy had taken Jim out of the
running with a well-timed hypo, just in case.
That left him and Spock, and the choice was
obvious. All that remained was to get Spock
to acknowledge that fact, and the way to a
Vulcan's heart was through his logic circuits.
Well, of course, the way to a Vulcan's heart
was actually just under the 11th rib on the
left and then hang a right at the spleen, lift
up the two posterior ventral lobes of the liver
and... He grinned. That's better, Len, now
you're thinkin' likea Vulcan. He forced himself
to breathe deeply, and began lining up his
ducks.
One. The probability argument, A:
Spock had only a 7% chance of getting
through the experiments with all his faculties
more or less intact. McCoy had a whopping
13%chance.
Two. The probability argument, B:
Spock had more technological expertise in
his little finger than McCoy would ever have,
sickbay contraptions aside. Kirk and Spock
without McCoy had a pretty good chance of
I
r
 getting out of here alive. For Kirk and
McCoy without Spock, things wouldn't look
so good.
Three. The ship's safety argument: H
McCoy died, the Enterprise still had one doc-
tor, several nurses and some medics on
board. The Vians clearly posed a threat; the
ship was in danger and the captain had been
injured. A chief surgeon was more expend-
able in this situation than a first officer,
whose duty was to survive to take command
and get everybody the hell out of that sector.
Four. The economic argument: Doctors
could be replaced more easily than com-
mand quality starship captains and first of-
ficers. Spock had to look to Starfleet's
investment.
Five. The lifespan argument: He,
McCoy, had already lived about half his ex-
pected lifespan. Spock had lived less than a
fourth of his. McCoy had the least life to lose.
Six. The ethical argument: McCoy was
oath-bound to preserve life. Spock must
allow him to fulfill that oath.
Seven. The Kirk argument: Kirk would
recover from losing McCoy better than he
would recover from losing Spock. McCoy
gave himself a grim smile. He wouldn't use
that one, he thought. Spock wouldn't go for
it; he would just accuse him of acting on that
mythical martyr complex he insisted McCoy
had.
Okay. Six little ducks, sitting on the
water, perfectly calm, perfectly logical. He
was ready now. He turned and looked back
at the Vulcan, still quietly calculating away,
putting everything in order so that his
friends would have the highest probability of
successful escape once he was taken away to
have his magnificent mind turned to random
subspace static.
The real argument: Leonard McCoy
simply could not stand by and let that hap-
pen.
Looking at the stoic back bent over his
work, McCoy knew beyond any shadow of
doubt that Spock wasn't going to listen to a
single one of his arguments. There was noth-
ing in the galaxy so stubborn as Spock with
his mind made up. The human's mouth set
into the ghost of a dark smile. Except maybe
an oldcountry doctorwith his mind madeup. He
..
96
turned his back, opened his medikit, and
silently prepared his final and most convinc-
ing argument.
..........
Lal and Thann, having duly arrived and
transported McCoy to the laboratory where
they suspended him from ropes fastened to
his wrists, now raised the little black control
device that would lacerate his flesh and -
vanished abruptly as McCoy opened his eyes
into an even greater darkness. His heart
pounded wildly and his sleepshirt was
saturated with sweat that he had briefly mis-
taken for blood. Hoping that he had not ac-
tually cried out, he tried to breathe the terror
out of his system, but it wasn't working. The
oppressive blackness closed in upon him like
a shroud; he had to get up. Flinging his
blankets to the floor, he practically threw
himself out of the bed, barking a shin on the
night table as he did so. Damn! Why hadn't
he left a floor light on?
Because he was forty-five years old, and
he wasn't about to admit to anyone, includ-
ing himself, that he wanted a damn night
light, that was why. Shit, he thought, rubbing
his banged leg, it was like being six years old
again... Six years old in the creaky old
farmhouse in a thunderstorm, listening to
Davy tell the one about the drowned girl
whose lonely, damp little ghost would hitch-
hike home every year about this time, just
down the road a pace... He shivered. At least
back then he'd been able to crawl into bed
with Davy and be warm and safe from the
ghosts the boys had conjured up with their
stories. Ghosts, they knew, went after
solitary victims. Leonard McCoy had never
felt quite so solitary as he did right now.
Goddammit, it had been his finest mo-
ment. He had done the right thing. And it
had been hard, so hard to do. Why was he
being punished like this? Why should he
have to go through it all again? Over and
over and over and...
Post-traumaticStressDisorder,that's why.
Sometimes he hated being a doctor.
"Computer. Report time," he croaked
into the darkness.
 "2300 hours, and fourteen minutes," it
responded pleasantly.
He'd had about an hour's sleep, then. He
ordered the lights up, sat back down on his
bed, and ached for companionship, for the
touch of another person, solid, warm, and
real. Loneliness was nothing new to the
Enterprise's chief medical officeri it was just
the way his life had worked out, a chronic
complaint that he'd learned to live with. He
kept it under control, or at least at bay, with
long working hours and treated the
symptoms, whenever they emerged, with
evening conversations with his friends, ac-
companied by judicious doses of bourbon
and brandy. And, of course, an occasional
shore-leave fling with a paid sweetheart.
This was different, though. The loneli-
ness had taken a quantum jump into acute
form. He couldn't shake the fear and the
cold, and he wanted someone to give a
damn, to hold him and make it all go away
wanted it with a desperation that his medical
persona recognized as unhealthy. He was
fixating on the idea. Probably all went back
to his failed marriage somehow. Jocelyn...
after all these years he could think of her
now with longing as well as anger. The latter
emotion, he knew, was reciprocatedi he
wondered if the former might be as well. Not
likely, he sighed. The split had not been an
amicable one. Not by a long shot.
2300 hours. There would be people in
the mess, and in the rec room. Maybe it
wasn't too late to ask Jim in for a brandy. Un-
less... No, Jim had his eye on that geologist
they were transporting to Delphina Epsilon,
and she wasn't exactly resisting that devil-
smile of hisi it probably was too late to be
calling on the captain. Anyway, things had
been oddly strained between him and Kirk
since they'd escaped the Vians. He supposed
Jim was having trouble forgiving him for
taking things into his own hands. Must stick
in his craw... Well, they'd work it out, but
they hadn't done so yet, and he wasn't really
up to that session right now. He didn't want
an argument, he wanted... What did he
want? None of the options he'd been con-
sidering, he realized. He wanted...
Go ahead, admit it, Len. Protection.
. .
Maybe so. But he'd settle just for some-
one to touch, to hold. Was that so damn
much to ask? Maybe... He wondered if Chris-
tine was still up. Christine was kind. Not to
mention beautiful. And unattached. And
lonely, herself. If anyone on board would un-
derstand him, she...
Oh, right, Len, pick someonedirectly subor-
dinate to you. Goodmove. If you want to move
right on out of Starfleet. ]eezus...
Sometimes he hated being Chief Medical
Officer.
This was not only pointless, it was
downright stupid, he growled at himself.
There wasn't anybody and that was that.
Ought to get himself a great big damn teddy
bear, that's what he should do. What was
that critter Amanda said Spock had had?
Like a fat teddy bear? A sula? Sely?... sehlat,
that was it. He should get himself a sehlat.
No pets on starships,Len.Not since the trib-
- bIebusiness.
Oh, well. Spock had said those teddy
bears had 6-inch teeth, anyway. With his
luck the damn thing would give him rabies
within a week. Well, he'd gotten along so far
on this ship without either a lover or a sehlati
he could keep getting along without them.
He'd get through this like he got through
-
everything else on his own.
What he did need, before he sat here and
drowned in self-pity, was a shower. Might
help him get back to sleep, too, and medical-
ly speaking that was what he needed most of
all. He peeled off his damp sleepwear,
stuffed it into the laundry cycler, strode into
the head and dialed up a hot water shower.
When he emerged, warm and dry again, he
swallowed two tablets of a mild sedative -
something he hardly ever did, but if he
didn't start getting over this thing he was
going to have to remove himself from duty
altogether, and he didn't think he could
-
stand that right now and plopped himself
back on his bed without bothering to find
another set of pajamas. This time he left the
emergency foot lights on.
97
 II.
Spock exited the hydroponics laboratory
and made his way through the deserted
Deck 5 corridor toward turbolift 3, one part
of his mind swiftly cataloging the results of
his night's work while another mused over
the quaint Standard phrase for this segment
of the ship's day. Graveyardshift. Had the
human aversion to these hours produced the
name, or vice versa? Though his Vulcan
curiosity was of course famous for its will-
ingness to speculate endlessly on virtually
any topic, even he recognized this as absurd.
Clearly, it was time for him to meditate. Per-
haps he would even sleep for a few hours.
He had been up for 2.69 days, not long
enough to reduce his efficiency to any sig-
nificant degree, but he had found it best to
sleep ahead of schedule. Aboard the
Enterprise, one never knew when the small
advantage of a freshly rested mind and body
might become crucial.
A sharp sound caught his attention, and
he slowed his steps, trying to identify it. It
came again, lower now, behind him. If he
hadn't been listening for it, he would not
have caught it the second time. It was or-
ganic, clearly, rather than mechanical in
origin. His long, solemn face slipped into a
very slight frown as he realized that the noise
had originated in the Chief Medical Officer's
quarters. Instinctively, he turned and took a
few steps toward the door before he stopped
himself. He had no desire to eavesdrop. The
sound came again, distinguishable now as a
gasping intake of breath. Spock hesitated,
evaluating the possibilities. Was the doctor in
distress? Was assistance required? Or... was
he overhearing a coupling? He began a quick
retreat, but stopped again. No, that scenario
was improbable. Spock was not aware of
McCoy being currently "involved" as the
humans said, and the OviO was not given to
shipboard romance in any case. Such a
scenario was even less probable given the
events of five days ago. Unless... Perhaps the
doctor was in particular need of solace
precisely because of those events and had
sought out a lover. Who might...?
Spock shook himself, startled. Such
speculation was not like him. Something
.-
98
about the encounter with the Vians must
have adversely affected his thought proces-
ses. Perhaps it was the use of their transport
device, imperfectly tuned to his brain waves.
Nocturnal noises from private quarters were
certainly none of his business. Spock turned
and had already taken three strides down the
corridor when a louder, strangled cry
erupted from the room. Pain, unmistakably
this time, and the voice unmistakably
McCoy's. Spock darted back to the door,
swiftly punched a security override code into
the panel and stepped inside.
As the door sighed shut behind him,
Spock's eyes rapidly adjusted to the dim
room, lit only by the glow of a few red emer-
gency lights. The occupant was lying quite
naked on his bed, face down and evidently
asleep despite the fact that every few seconds
his whole body jerked and he cried out, the
voice somewhat muffled by the mattress. A
variety of traditional Terran bedding
materials lay strewn on the floor nearby.
Though the room felt chilly to Spock, a sheen
of sweat covered the human's skin. The man
was obviously in the grip of a nightmare
from which he should be rescued, but Spock
found himself reluctant to wake his col-
league. He examined this reluctance, found it
to be based on a selfish aversion to having
the doctor demand an explanation for his
presence there, and set it aside, stepping for-
ward to wake the human.
Spock's hand had barely grazed
McCoy's shoulder when the doctor curled
into a fetal position with a gasp, hands
pressed to his temples, a series of tremors
running through his body. Alarmed, Spock
pressed his hand to the human's back, trying
to gauge his body temperature and was
surprised to find the skin even cooler than
normal, rather than fevered. It was not, how-
ever, so low as to warrant medical attention,
he decided, especially considering the likely
consequences of embarrassing McCoy by
carrying him bodily to sickbay clad only in a
blanket. Spock did not wish to participate in
an argument with McCoy at this time; not
with the Vian incident so fresh in all their
minds, and, he saw, traces of it still visible on
McCoy's body. Half consciously, his finger-
tips followed the odd, dark lines that ran
-
down the doctor's lean back, and he
wondered again why the Vians had chosen
to simulate the effects of a whip on their final
victim. They had not done that to Jim.
Perhaps they had been testing Gem's
ability to deal with a variety of injuries: ex-
ternal, like these and the abrasions and con-
tusions that had been left on the wrists, face
and torso; internal, as in the doctor's rup-
tured organs and broken ribs; and chemical
imbalances such as the artificially-induced
"bends" and disruption of his homeostasis
mechanisms. Such a complex task would cer-
tainly have provided the Vian experimenters
with a rigorous test of her will, knowledge,
and healing capacity.
It occurred to him that McCoy would
surely "give him hell," were he aware of
Spock's current line of speculation, which the
human would perceive as cold, insensitive
and cruel in some way that Spock could not
fathom. The further realization that he was
actually looking forward to such an interac-
tion with the volatile surgeon distracted him
into a momentary slippage of his shields,
though he was still in physical contact with
McCoy. Fear, pain and a desperate, grim
determination rocketed up Spock's nerves
through the touch, a combination that left
him little doubt that McCoy was indeed
reliving his experiences in the Vian
laboratory. Spock let his hand slide lightly
up to McCoy's shoulder, preparatory to
shaking him to consciousness.
The doctor stirred, sighed, and relaxed
visibly. "You got a good bedside manner,
there, Spock," he breathed softly, but quite
clearly.
Spock pulled his hand back at the unex-
pected but all-too-familiar words. McCoy
groaned and called plaintively, "Jim? Spock?
Are you there?" Spock scanned the human's
face; McCoy was definitely not awake. The
stimulus of his touch had simply altered the
man's dreamstate, apparently for the better.
He returned his hand to McCoy's shoulder
and felt it relax noticeably, the doctor's
breath evening out as well. Deliberately
lowering his shields once more, Spock found
that his touch telepathy now registered con-
siderably less pain, along with an upwelling
of gratitude aimed squarely at himself. It
..
99
seemed there was no need to wake the doc-
tor after all; it would be quite possible to pro-
vide the necessary comfort without bringing
him to consciousness.
Maintaining contact, Spock reached for
the scattered bedclothes with his free hand
and managed to cover McCoy, tucking the
sheet around him a bit to absorb some of the
sweat as he did so. He slipped the pillow
back under the doctor's head, eliciting an
audible, contented sigh from the dreamer.
Mission accomplished, Spock drew his hand
away and retreated toward the door, but
froze in place as McCoy's eyes flicked open,
the sclera gleaming oddly in the dark room.
"Don' go, Spock," the familiar voice slurred
softly, one arm reaching out from the sheet,
"Don' leave me. Oh, God, don't leave me
here." Mesmerized, Spock stepped back to
the bedside; the surgeon's deft fingers locked
onto his wrist with surprising strength as the
eyes closed again. "Cold... So cold..."
Spock could not now make his escape,
nor even reach the cabin's environmental
controls, without waking McCoy. Perhaps
later. For now, the only logical course of ac-
tion seemed to be to remain, and to warm the
doctor with the high metabolism of his body,
just as he had done five days before. He
managed, a bit awkwardly, to get his boots
off, and stretched out on the bed alongside
McCoy. Immediately, the doctor buried his
face in Spock's shirt and began to weep
silently, drenching the startled first officer
with his human tears and a tidal wave of
human gratitude. After several minutes, the
sleeping man released Spock's wrist to wrap
an arm tightly around his waist, and fell still.
.....
Suspended in the dark laboratory,
McCoy peered out from his swollen, burning
face to see La! once more point his black-
gloved finger at Thann, and Thann again
raise the control device. His body panicked,
screaming at him, begging him to let it die,
but he wouldn't do it. He was going to beat
the odds these damned sadists had quoted
him. More importantly, he was going to
make those soulless beings acknowledge
what they were doing to him. He glared
directly into their eyes as a bolt of pain
seared through his abdomen and he felt
something tear. His body convulsed and he
-
cried out, as much from the horror of it the
knowledge that he was hemorrhaging in
there - as from the pain. But he kept staring
at the Vians as he twisted on their ropes; he
would not release them, or himself, from
this. If they were going to kill him, then by
God, they were going to have to look him in
the eyes while they did it.
Those eyes, ice-blue and bulging, con-
tinued to stare toward the Vian scientists
long after their owner's brain had quit
receiving any signals from his optic nerves,
shutting out all input in order to turn all of
the body's remaining energy to keeping the
heart pumping, the lungs filling, the
damaged kidneys filtering.
Abruptly, the scene shifted, and McCoy
found himself lying flat, his head turned to
one side, Spock's lithe arms holding him
securely while he coughed out the frothy,
bright blood flooding his lungs. A shadow he
knew to be Jim Kirk hovered nearby. The
extra warmth of the Vulcan's hands eased
the pain a bit. Sucking air after the coughing
fit had ended, he lay still and soaked up that
Vulcan heat as if it were life itself, as if it
could save him after all. He wished he could
bury himself in that sturdy warmth; wished,
too, that he had the strength to tell Spock
what a comfort he was, how glad he was not
to have to die alone in that black laboratory;
wished he could explain that he hadn't done
it out of some damn martyr complex. He'd
done it because he couldn't have borne to go
on living with the thought that Spock or Jim
had died in his place. He'd even like to be
able to apologize for dumping that burden
onto them instead. But he couldn't speak
anymore. All he could do was hope they'd
understand, and could forgive him for
choosing their lives over his own.
The two shadows conversed in low
tones, McCoy catching only a few phrases
through the persistent ringing in his ears, but
the familiar voices were a comfort in them-
selves. "...make him comfortable, but that is
all...," he heard dimly. A moment later - or
was it minutes? Had he passed out? Not
hours, he knew; he wouldn't last hours -
..
100
Kirk's blurred face loomed into his vision,
calling to him insistently, taking charge, hurl-
ing orders into the face of the catastrophe as
always.
"Bones!" the captain was demanding,
"Bones, hang on! You've got to hang on till
we can get you back to the ship, do you hear
me? Hold on!"
Well, that was one order he wasn't going
to be able to obey. He tried to get his lips to
shift into a smile as he moved his head ever
so slightly from side to side. But he was cold,
so cold... nothing seemed to happen. Then
Kirk was there again, pressing desperately
on McCoy's temples, the hands oddly un-
sure, out of place, out of their depth. The
voice came to him softly, urgently, almost
begging, "Bones, what can we do for you?
How can we get you stabilized? You've got
to tell us..."
A danger signal rang in McCoy's dulled
brain. Why were his friends here? They were
supposed to be gone. He had kept his part of
the contract, surrendered his life to those
damn Vians, and they had betrayed him
again. A surge of fury allowed him to open
his eyes, searching out his enemies, ready to
glower them straight to hell. But they were
not there; only Jim and Spock met his gaze.
Then he understood: they had been freed, he
had managed to buy their lives, but they
would not leave him while he still breathed.
He had to get them out of here before the
Vians changed their minds. His eyelids fell
as the rage left him, replaced by weary
despair. "Let... me... go..." Whether he had
managed to voice it or only move his lips, he
did not know, but Jim's reaction told him
he'd gotten the message across.
"No!"Kirk pressed hard on his face as he
hissed out the words, "I won't! You hang on,
you hear me? You - hang - on!"
Spock's voice came through, then, out of
the blackness. "Doctor, how can we make
you more comfortable?" And he slipped his
right hand up to touch lightly, fingers
splayed, at the link points on McCoy's face,
easing Jim aside as he silently offered a less
painful method of communication.
McCoy gave an inward smile that may
or may not have translated to one visible to
his friends. The Vulcan certainly knew
-

McCoy was dying, and would not lie about
it. Not to Jim, not to McCoy, certainly not to
himself. However, he was willing to engage
in a bit of compassionate dissembling, allow-
ing Kirk a little more time to adjust to the in-
evitable.
But the doctor was not about to accede
to a meld on his deathbed. He had detested
the experience every time circumstances had
forced it on him so far; he saw no reason to
put himself through it again now. He was
dying, and he didn't like it one bit, but he
would do it as his unadulterated self, thank
you very much. Besides, just as Spock had
told Jim, it could happen any time now.
Spock wasn't a trained healer, and if he was
still in there, trying to jury-rig the human's
system together when it finally crashed, he
would die, too. And Spock, McCoy knew,
was just human enough to get himself killed
holding the link too long. He denied Spock
access to his mind, and felt just a hint of
rejection and regret as the fingers withdrew.
There was something they could do for
him, though, and McCoy, cold and hurting,
certainly had no objection to being made
more comfortable. Spock's left hand lay atop
his own. With a movement probably only
perceptible to the Vulcan, he managed to
direct the hand down to his abdomen, which
was growing increasingly painful as his body
cavity filled with the blood seeping from his
battered organs. The warmth gave some
relief; he concentrated on that comfort and
let his breath ease out in a long, thin sigh. His
trained ears, listening to his own breathing,
estimated his lung capacity down 30% now.
It wouldn't be much longer.
"Cold..." he managed to whisper.
Kirk started to remove his tunic, but
Spock placed a restraining hand on his arm.
"Not necessary, Captain. My metabolism
should provide sufficient warmth for tem-
porary relief." He did not verbalize what
both he and McCoy, and probably even Kirk
-
knew that any relief would only be neces-
sary for a few more minutes until the doctor
lost consciousness again from shock. Careful-
ly, Spock stretched himself over McCoy,
Ct)veringhis torso, folding the doctor's arms
1:\across his chest, enveloping his legs with
his own, holding himself so that he touched
..
101
I,
but did not press upon the dying man.
McCoy relaxed gratefully into the encircling
warmth, content, and felt his relief spilling
out of his eyes and down his face. Kirk
would misinterpret that. Oh, well. The physi-
cal contact meant that both the relief he felt
and his gratitude would be communicated to
Spock without any further effort on his part.
Spock could explain it all to Jim later. This
wasn't so bad. It really wasn't. He could
handle this. Pretty soon, it would all stop
hurting. Real soon now. He wished his
friends luck and let his eyes close.
..........
Well, this is an improvement,commented
the part of McCoy's mind that remained
aloof, observing the nightmare it was power-
less to stop. Until now, the dreams had con-
sisted entirely of replays of those hideous
hours in the Vian lab. This was the first time
his subconscious had let him relive as well
the scenes of his friends rallying to him. An
encouraging sign, he decided; he must be
recovering. If this kept up, Gem would be
showing up pretty soon, and that was cer-
tainly something to look forward to. With a
smile of pleasant, if groggy, anticipation, he
let himself slip back into the dreamstate.
To his surprise, however, McCoy
returned to the dream to find himself lying
on his side, his battered face still buried in
Vulcan warmth, Vulcan arms circling his
body protectively while his own arms en-
veloped Spock in a tight hug. My, my, he
thought, isn't this interesting? Not only was
his subconscious being suddenly nice to him
tonight, it was getting a helluva lot more
creative, too. He noted with professional in-
terest that while Spock wore his usual duty
uniform in the dream, he himself was quite
naked. Naked and... Goodgrief! With a small
shock he realized that he was responding
physically to the decidedly erotic overtones
of being embraced by the ever-remote First
Officer of the Enterprise.
He'd certainly never expected this par-
ticular fantasy to pop up in his dreams.
Though... he had to admit to a certain
curiosity as to just where this was headed.
There were, of course, certain implications in
 the clothing thing. Symbolic power, perhaps,
reflecting the inferiority complex the Vulcan
always gave him? Or something simpler? An
ordinary sexual fantasy? Seduction of the un-
attainable, a good old textbook standby. Of
course, there must be symbolism, too, in the
encounter having switched from the Vian
laboratory to his own bed. Perhaps he'd have
himself psychscanned in the morning. He
hadn't known he'd been thinking about
Spock this way. Maybe it was those pills. H
so, he'd have to start taking them more often.
Oh, hell,he thought, as Spock shifted his
grip, sending a decidedly sexual thrill down
his spine, anything is fair game in fantasy. Stop
analyzing and just roll with it, Len. Could he
get through his friend's damn shields in
dreamtime, if nowhere else? Here was an ex-
periment worth trying... Consciously, with
an almost physical effort, he elbowed his
professional training aside, determined to
just enjoy this odd gift from the recesses of
his psyche.
Breathing in the warm, coppery scent of
Spock, he slipped a hand under the Vulcan's
tunic, seeking even closer contact, skin to
-
skin. He felt Spock tense in surprise or per-
haps in mild revulsion; human skin, moist
and considerably cooler than the Vulcan
variety, must feel downright clammy.
McCoy kept his hand still, allowing Spock to
adjust to the feel and gradually relax, then let
his fingers roam gently through his
companion's curly chest hair, massaging ex-
pertly, slowly, taking his time. There was no
hurry. He could dream all night. At length,
he began circling the sensitive nipples, ex-
tracting an actual gasp from Spock a tri--
umph that was ridiculously exciting in and
-
of itself followed by a noticeable increase
in the rise and fall of Spock's chest as McCoy
continued to tease at the firm buds. His own
respiration rate was definitely on the rise, too
- -
along with some other things as he en-
joyed the feel of his skin on Spock's, so im-
possible in real life. He tugged encouragingly
at his companion's shirt and was absurdly
pleased when Spock obliged by lifting his
arms and allowing him to slip the tunic over
his head and off. The warm arms immedi-
ately came back around him, and this time
.-
amazing! - the hands began tentatively to
echo his own caresses.
McCoy led the dream-dance; his hands,
full of the fierce affection and sincere admira-
tion that could never be verbalized, worked
slowly up over the shoulder and down
Spock's spine. The dream-Spock reciprocated
lightly, cautiously, alert for sore places.
McCoy caught his breath, tried to crawl even
closer into his companion, and slipped his
hands inside the trousers to pass over firm,
lean buttocks. The tune to "Hot Cross Buns"
leaped impudently and irrepressibly into
McCoy's mind, and he chuckled aloud as he
began to knead the too-warm flesh. Impos-
sibly and delightfully, a small sound of
pleasure escaped the Vulcan. Thus en-
couraged, McCoy added kisses to his cares-
ses, working his way slowly up from Spock's
chest to his throat, along the jaw line, and
finally to the soft lips. The men lay evenly
matched now, length for length. McCoy's
penis, swollen and ready for action, sought
comfort between Spock's legs even as his
tongue entreated entry to the overheated
mouth. Spock obediently made room for
both, sending a shudder of pleasure through
McCoy. He opened his eyes to gaze into
Spock's, and revelled in the sight of the dark
eyes glistening, dilated and endlessly deep
with anticipation.
Amazingly, Spock now took the initia-
tive, pulling him into a tighter embrace,
wrapping one leg around his and pressing
their pelvises delightfully together, until his
grip on McCoy's knitting ribcage began to be
uncomfortable. McCoy started to pull away,
but the aroused Vulcan pursued him, hold-
ing his face firmly while he enforced his turn
exploring McCoy's mouth. His breathing had
grown fast, and was punctuated now with
sporadic, barely audible moans. McCoy felt a
stab of pain as a rib complained under the
strength of Spock's hold. He made a small
sound of protest, and Spock halted and
pulled away, gazing at the human in con-
fusion and concern.
McCoy stared back across the sudden
gulf between them, and the realization struck
him at last. "Oh, God," he whispered, "you're
- really you." Mortification flooded him, com-
municating itself to Spock through the now
102

extensive contact of their flesh. It was quickly
followed by outrage. 'What the hell are you
doing here?" McCoy demanded in a harsh
whisper.
After a beat, Spock replied from deep
within his normal Vulcan mask, "I believe,
Doctor, that I am... making love with you."
They stared at one another for a further
minute, both uncertain, acutely embarrassed,
but both also excruciatingly aroused, and
neither man willing to break off the en-
counter. McCoy itched to make some smart-
ass reply about the incongruity of Spock's
choice of words. "Making love," he had said.
Not "engaging in mutually pleasurable erotic
stimulation" but "making love". Love?
Spock? That most illogical of emotions? And
"with you," not "to you". Well, these were
probably not idioms that Spock really under-
stood very well. But then again, what if...
gods, what if the words meant exactly what
they said? Spock being generally both precise
and truthful in his choice of words, it was a
distinct possibility. Feeling that they were
balanced together over a precipice, and that
the added weight of any words at all would
send them plummeting, McCoy held his
peace as well as his breath.
It was Spock who broke the silence at
last. "Shall we continue this activity to its
logical conclusion, Doctor?" he asked with
his most infuriatingly innocent expression.
McCoy hesitated, then forced himself to
relax rather self-consciously against Spock's
chest once more, and gave him a tentative
grin. "Oh, shut up and kiss me," he ad-
monished by way of agreement, reaching im-
pulsively for the fastenings to Spock's
trousers. "And if you use any form of the
word 'logic' again tonight, I'll..." He searched
his companion's flushed face for a moment.
"I'll bite those points right off your ears," he
finished, leaving Spock to wonder whether
the doctor was aware of the erotic implica-
tions of ear-nipping, or had simply chosen
that threat at random. He stifled a ridiculous
urge to find out by assailing the human with
every conceivable form of the forbidden
word, and instead slipped a hand to the back
of McCoy's head, pulling their mouths back
together as ordered to enjoy a deep and
heated kiss. McCoy, only slightly distracted
..
103
1
by that activity, busied his own arms and
legs removing the remainder of his
bedfellow's clothing.
That task accomplished, McCoy kicked
the first officer's trousers and underwear
onto the floor and slithered with a happy
groan atop Spock's deliciously warm body,
pressing his groin enthusiastically down
against the Vulcan's. With a quite satisfac-
tory if unexpected whimper, Spock
responded by dropping his hands to
McCoy's ass, pulling him down hard to in-
crease the pressure. For long minutes they
rocked together with a slowly mounting
rhythm, mouths pressing in hungry har-
mony with hips, hands eagerly exploring one
another's alien skins for pleasure-points.
Spock's pulse raced now beyond the
human's ability to detect, and McCoy's own
breath was coming in short gulps until he felt
he must explode, when Spock suddenly
released the embrace and whispered hoarse-
ly to his partner, ''Doctor... I wish to be...
within you."
McCoy froze with a small shudder,
panting heavily, eyes closed briefly in a
grimace. Spock searched his partner's face in
the dim light, but was unable to read the
human's reaction to this request. After a mo-
ment McCoy, with evident effort, pushed
himself up, climbed off the bed, and headed
for the bathroom, his erection leading the
way while Spock watched with a sense of
loss and uncertainty; clearly he had offended
the doctor. Scouring his memory to formu-
late an appropriate apology, he rose and fol-
lowed McCoy.
"Doctor," he began, as he reached the
doorway, "I must apologize...," .
"Huh?" Straightening from the replicator
unit, McCoy gave the Vulcan a puzzled look
over his shoulder. "What are you on about?"
"I did not mean ~o offend you with my
suggestion. I would like... Shall we... Would
it be appropriate to... start over?"
The vision of a discombobulated Spock
sent McCoy's eyes wide with amazement,
then he laughed, and stepped back through
the door, grabbing Spock's hand as he
passed and tugging him back toward the
sleeping alcove. "Silly old Vulcan," he chided
as he crawled onto the bunk and pulled
 Spock down beside him, "I just needed to get
this." He pressed a small tube into Spock's
palm, and a kiss onto his collarbone. "Use
lots," he instructed. "And I mean lots. And
take it easy. I haven't... I mean... Well... this
isn't my usual style. Okay?"
Though clearly excited, his pupils deep
and dilated, the human was also visibly
tense, perhaps even somewhat fearful. Reas-
surance seemed to be called for. Spock
wrapped his arms around his partner once
more, massaging the tight neck muscles for a
while, then indulging in increasingly intense
kisses until both were again well aroused. As
he began to gently urge McCoy onto his
stomach, the doctor shivered either with
anxiety or cold, and Spock felt the human's
erection subside slightly where it lay press-
ing into his abdomen. Spock deftly pulled a
blanket over them in case it was the physical
temperature making the doctor uncomfort-
able. He kissed McCoy's forehead, murmur-
ing softly, "I have more control over this
function than humans, Doctor. I can and will
stop if there is any pain. If you want me to
stop at any time, I will."
McCoy nodded, eyes closed. "Okay," he
whispered, grateful for the reassurance, and
allowed himself to be maneuvered into a
prone position.
Spock continued the massage, working
down McCoy's back to the meager buttocks.
McCoy gradually relaxed into the sensations
and soon found himself greedily absorbing
the slow, protective caresses that carefully
skirted areas of soreness, and basking in the
sure knowledge that he was being looked
after, that he could give himself over to
Spock's care, and he would not be hurt. As
his body relaxed, his skin opened further to
the contact, tingling everywhere the long, hot
fingers touched him. It was incredible.
"My god, Spock," he breathed, kissing
the shoulder within reach, "you really do
have a good bedside manner. Where'd you
learn this?"
"The ship has a quite considerable
library." Spock replied seriously, without any
loss of rhythm. "It is one of the more interest-
ing benefits of starship service. This par-
ticular technique I believe I learned from an
.-
104
ancient Terran volume entitled The Handbook
of Swedish..."
"Spock."
"Yes?" Spock was working the tight
muscles of his thigh now.
"It was a rhetorical question, Spock. Just
a compliment, not an inquiry."
"Oh." Spock paused thoughtfully for a
moment, and said, ''Then I believe the ap-
propriate response would be 'Thank you.'"
McCoy squirmed as the hot hand
brushed over his testicles on its way to the
other leg. "Yeah."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." McCoy gasped as the
hand swept over his balls again, a little more
firml y. "MYgod , are you w e1come..."
Spock's penis, stiff and smooth with
desire, pressed into McCoy's thigh, sending
urgent signals to both their brains. McCoy
found himself actually biting Spock's
shoulder as he heard his companion flip the
tube open. He shivered again, with anticipa-
tion now. Spock warmed a dollop of the
lubricant in his palm, and began to smooth it
between McCoy's legs.
McCoy quivered with surprised
pleasure as hot cream was slathered over his
scrotum and up into the space between his
cheeks. "Spock...uh... I don't quite know how
to ask this, but..."
"Yes?"
Spock was so damned calm. 'Well... Do
you know what you're doin'?"
"I am applying lubricant in order to
facilitate..."
"Spock, you know what I mean, dam-
mit!"
Spock was silent for a moment, but con-
tinued to liberally oil McCoy's nether
regions. Finally, he replied, "I have no practi-
cal experience of this form of sexual activity,
Doctor, but as I mentioned before, the ship's
library contains a great deal of material..."
"Oh, gods," McCoy moaned as Spock
began circling a fingertip around his anus.
"So we both know the theory and neither of
us know...Oh! Jeezus!"Spock had slipped one
hot, well-lubricated finger up inside him. His
sphincter protested the violation with a sen-
sation that was a dramatic combination of
pleasure and an urge to defecate. McCoy was
-
.
II pretty well-read himself, of course, and his
-:-; :ients were of all persuasions, and he'd
: ::~performed and experienced his share of
l '.': a1exams. He had known what to expect.
II S~j, the reality was something of a shock. A
remarkably exciting shock
Spock held the finger still for a moment
II then slowly withdrew it. He kissed McCoy's
forehead again. He knew the gesture to be
vaguely parental and hence comforting, and
his bedmate had clearly liked it before. He
II seemed to still like it, the blue eyes closing
contentedly. "Did that hurt you?" Spock
asked. He knew, of course, that it hadn't-
II with so much direct skin contact between
them, he could hardly have missed a sensa-
tion of pain even with his shields fully
II engaged. But McCoy would want to be
asked.
"No," McCoy assured him. "No. It was
just... kinda strange. But nice. Do it again. But
'I you take it easy," he ordered. "Youhear me?"
"Yes, Doctor. I do not detect any change
in my hearing," Spock replied quietly. He
II shifted to lie lightly across the human's back,
and let his chin rest on the cool shoulder as
he spoke close to the exotic, rounded ears,
II "And I will proceed with due caution."
"Oh god," McCoy groaned as Spock
cupped his testicles in a hot palm, then ap-
II plied more cream to his anus and eased a
finger inside him again, massaging the
sphincter muscle, teasing the entrance open.
II "Oh, gods, thafs good, Spock Oh, my god..."
He clutched at the sheet, buried his face in
his pillow, and gave himself up to the sensa-
tions Spock was creating.
II .....
II McCoy lay quietly, exhausted and
sleepy in the aftermath of an exquisite or-
gasm, enjoying the feel of the hot, collapsed
II Vulcan in and around him. Spock had
proven to be a wonderfully patient, con-
siderate and capable lover. That shouldn't
II have surprised him, he supposed. Obviously,
touch telepathy ought to be quite an asset in
lovemaking. Instant, unequivocal feedback
from one's partner. And though towards the
II end Spock had not had quite the level of con-
trol he obviously expected of himself, he had
II , .
105
I
had enough to proceed, as promised, "with
due caution." A bit overmuch caution,
McCoy thought. There had been several mo-
ments when Spock had driven him crazy by
stopping for more ointment when all he'd
wanted was for him to keep on thrusting,
harder, farther, and faster. But they'd certain-
ly gotten there despite the aggravating little
delays.
Spock had climaxed first. The Vulcan's
orgasm had seemed to go on forever. He had
cried out once, just at first, his arms tighten-
ing convulsively around McCoy's chest as
his spine arched backwards, forcing his Penis
to its maximum depth and squeezing their
testicles together. Spock's whole body had
trembled violently while hot semen shot
repeatedly deep into McCoy. Transfixed,
paralyzed, and restricted to shallow breaths
by Spock's hold, McCoy had experienced the
Vulcan's release in his own haze of dizzy
pleasure; he had been very close to coming
himself, but while Spock's seed poured into
him his own feelings seemed to be
suspended, set adrift from the normal flow
of time.
At last, he heard Spock breathe in again,
and felt the steel arms relax their grip. He
took a few deep gulps of air himself and felt
Spock shift his weight to reach a well-oiled
hand underneath him and begin stroking his
aching cock At that point, he hadn't needed
much encouragement, and within seconds he
was wild with excitement, alternately buck-
ing his hips up into Spock and ramming
down again into the hot, slippery hand. Then
he was coming. And coming, and coming.
His own back arched as his semen sprayed
over Spock's hand; Spock used it to keep
working on him, pumping him dry. When he
thought it was over, Spock had reached up to
pinch his nipples, now free of the mattress,
and he had come some more. Then he had
collapsed, panting, down onto the mattress,
feeling like putty. Happy putty. Satiated
putty. Putty that had been well and surely
loved. Spock lay in a similar state. He didn't
know how the Vulcan had managed to hold
on and bring him to orgasm after his own
powerful performance, but he was grateful
that he had. Now he was enjoying feeling
them both as boneless puddles, their skin in
 maximum contact, the boundaries between
them almost dissolved.
It had been a thoroughly pleasurable
coupling, as far as he was concerned, with
surprisingly little pain, though a sweet ache
- -
in his rectum still full of Spock told him
he'd be walking a little funny that day. And
all indications were that Spock, now lying
virtually unconscious on top of him, had
found their encounter equally satisfying.
Oh, there had been some embarrassing
moments when Spock, panting, fevered,
very, very stiff and about to enter him, had
automatically pressed his fingertips to
McCoy's face to perform a bonding meld
that was no doubt a standard feature of Vul-
can sex, and McCoy had panicked and strug-
gled against him both physically and
mentally. After that, Spock had refused to go
on, out of fear that without a meld he
wouldn't be able to eliminate any pain he
might cause his partner. There had been a
rather frenzied argument before McCoy
finally persuaded him to resume things. But
they'd sorted it out, and it had been great.
Really great. The heat of him... gods, he felt
good. Now, however, the weight of the
Vulcan's denser skeleton and muscle struc-
ture was becoming oppressive.
"Spock," he said softly at last, "Hey,
Spock. You're fantastic and I love you, but I
can't breathe, lover."
Slowly, Spock roused, slipping cautious-
ly from him. McCoy closed his eyes, reluc-
tant to lose the contact - and suddenly it was
gone altogether. He felt the bed shift and his
eyes flew open to see Spock standing a few
feet away, reaching for his clothing.
McCoy propped himself up on his el-
bows. 'Where the hell do you think you're
going?" he demanded.
Startled, Spock froze with his Fleet-issue
underwear and tunic in hand. "To my
quarters," he replied in that aggravatingly
reasonable tone of his. "I seem... to require
sleep."
"Damn right you do. Come back here."
Spock simply gazed at him in confusion.
McCoy sighed. "Spock, it's very bad
manners to fuck somebody and then just up
and leave. Makes them feel... used. Dis-
posable. You follow me? Just when they
. .
106
should be feeling, you know, loved. So get
your Vulcan ass back in this bed."
When Spock still made no move, he
went on, "Hey, you started it, sailor. Sleeping
together's part of the deal. You gotta spend
the night with me." He smiled encouraging-
ly. "C'mon. It's not so bad. I hardly ever kick
anymore." He held the sheet open, his eyes
issuing challenge.
Spock dropped his clothes back to the
floor with a resigned and slightly disoriented
air and complied, climbing back into the bed
and once again stretching out alongside
McCoy. "I do not wish to be ill-mannered,"
he assured his companion.
"Glad to hear it," McCoy replied, sliding
a hand lazily across Spock's shoulder, then
wrapping the arm around him and nestling
his face into Spock's neck. He gave a con-
tented and sleepy sigh. "Look. If you don't
want people to know about this," he went on
gently, running a hand appreciatively
through the silky black hair above Spock's
ear, "you can sneak out before first shift. I
don't mind. Just... sleep with me for a while."
"As you wish, Doctor."
"And, Spock?"
"Yes,Doctor?"
"Spock... um, you don't call your lover
by his title. The name's Leonard."
"Yes, Leonard," Spock responded
obediently, if a little vacantly.
"Or maybe even Len." McCoy circled his
fingers sleepily in the hair on the back of
Spock's head, then let his hand slide all the
way down Spock's backbone and come to
rest on the buttocks with a soft pat. 'Well,
then again, maybe not," he sighed. "Leonard
will do fine."
After a moment, Spock asked, "Is there
anything else etiquette requires in this situa-
tion... Leonard?"
"Why yes, there is, Spock," McCoy
yawned, "It requires what we call the good-
night kiss." And he raised himself until he
could reach Spock's lips to claim that prize,
while his fingers traced the pointed ears,
then he settled back into his former position
and closed his eyes again. '''Night, Spock," he
said.
"Good night, Leonard."
"Spock?"
I
"Yes,Leonard?" McCoy could have sworn he saw a smile
II "That was pretty damn good for a pair of
theorists. "
in the shadows of Spock's face as he once
again cocooned himself against the Vulcan's
"Yes,"Spock replied, "it was indeed." chest, delighting in the overly warm arms
II McCoy wondered if Spock meant that,
or if his reading had told him that after
holding him dose, and in the overly warm
lips touching his forehead as a deep voice so
copulation humans often sought one close as to be almost inside his head told
II another's assurance that the experience had
been satisfactory. But he was too cozy to
him, "Sleep well... Len." Bathed in the heat
and wonder of Spock's affection, he drifted
worry much about it. He was just drifting off into sleep, and not a single Vian intruded
comfortably to sleep when a slight shiver into that rest for the remainder of the night.
II running through his companion sent a nag-
ging thought up to the surface of his mind.
He came awake again. "Spock?" he asked,
II "Are you cold?" Then, before Spock could III
reply, he went on, 'What am I saying, of
course you're cold, and of course you're not A soft, persistent chime worked its way
II going to admit to me that a Vulcan would through McCoy's ears and into his brain,
deign to take notice of a silly physical dis- dragging him reluctantly to consciousness.
comfort. Jesus Maria." He planted a grumpy Half-awake, he noted the unaccustomed
I kiss on the tip of Spock's long nose, climbed
over him out of the bed, and set the environ-
warmth next to him, and with a groggy smile
attempted to bury himself in it, simul-
mental controls to Saharan levels. Crawling taneously pulling the blanket determinedly
I back into his bunk, he settled again into the
comfortable hollow of Spock's arms. He
over his head. An agreeably warm some-
thing pressed on his naked shoulder and
might wake with a headache from the heat, rocked it gently.
"Doctor," came the stolid Vulcan voice,
I but at least he wouldn't have a hypothermic
Vulcan to deal with in the morning. Spock "The computer is sounding your wake-up
alert."
clearly needed to sleep, not just go into a
meditative trance, and in true sleep he McCoy lifted the blanket from his head
I couldn't adjust his metabolism to compen-
sate for the adverse environmental condi-
and, turning to face his bedmate, blinked
hard as he attempted unsuccessfully to stifle
tions of a starship designed for humans. a ridiculous, puppy-dog grin. "Spock!You're
I They'd have to figure out a more permanent
solution later.
still here."
Spock merely arched an eyebrow in lieu
That thought startled him with its im- of reproving McCoy for his annoying habit
I plication that he was expecting this relation-
ship to continue. Oh, gods, he was in trouble
of stating the obvious. He did not wish to
begin the day with an argument.
now. He was a competent diagnostician, and McCoy closed his eyes again, let his
I he knew the signs, even this early in the dis-
ease. He was falling in love.
"Leonard."
head drop onto Spock's shoulder, and com-
pounded his sin with a second statement of
the obvious in as many sentences. "People
"Mm?" will know."
I "Since you have left the bed and
returned to it before actually sleeping, does
Spock contented himself with a simple,
"Quite possibly."
10- etiquette not dictate that we should now "So... does that bother you?" He opened
I repeat the goodnight kiss?"
"Hm. Interesting point, Spock." McCoy
his eyes again, to search Spock's.
The First Officer allowed a shadow of
was curled into Spock's chest, and kissed a annoyance to flick across his eyes, knowing
'I conveniently positioned nipple. "Yeah, you
know, I think maybe it does at that." Spock
that McCoy was one of the few people on the
ship who could read it correctly. "Really,
reached for him, and they did. Doctor-" he began.
I . .

107
I
 "Yeah, yeah, I know. You're a Vulcan.
You're not bothered." He rubbed a stubbly
cheek on Spock's shoulder. 'Well, good."
"Your wake-up alert, Leonard," Spock
reminded him.
McCoy was too busy basking in sleepy
contentment to be bothered himself. "That
just means I get to sleep for 20 more
minutes," he mumbled. "Hold me."
Spock complied, but frowned slightly.
"Doctor-"
McCoy turned to glare at him.
"Leonard," Spock corrected himself, and
the doctor nodded and settled back down
comfortably. "Leonard, where is the logic in
setting your device for 20 minutes before you
intend to rise? If you require 20 more
minutes of sleep, why not simply do so?"
McCoy opened his mouth for a retort,
thought better of it, and turned over to face
Spock again, slinging an arm across his chest
and then easing a hand up to lightly caress
the puzzled eyebrows. ''Don't ever change,
Boopsie," he murmured. As the ptlZZlement
on the Vulcan features deepened, McCoy
chuckled and put a hand over Spock's mouth
to prevent further questioning. When he
detected surrender, he removed the hand
and replaced it with his lips - a chaste,
friendly good-morning kiss. ''Take me as I
am, Spock," he said seriously, "or not at all."
There was an unnerving silence as Spock
seemed to consider those options, the cant of
his left eyebrow indicating, to a practiced ob-
server, a state of some consternation. McCoy
wanted badly to know where he stood, and
where they were to go from here, but he had
not meant to deliver an ultimatum. He
reached to smooth the eyebrow back into
symmetry with its fellow, and gave his
partner a crooked smile. ''But relax. You
don't have to choose in any big hurry."
Spock nodded solemnly, then disen-
tangled himself from his companion and slid
gracefully from the bed. "I believe you have
16.23 minutes left to sleep," he told McCoy,
bundling the blanket back around him. "In
the meantime, with your permission, I will
use your shower."
"My shower. is your shower, Spock,"
McCoy replied, pulling the blanket back over
his head. His body clung to the warmth of
. .
108
the bed as his heart clung to the warmth of
Spock's affection. Neither was willing to face
the cooling that must come with light and the
ship's day. He lay in cozy, suspended exist-
ence, refusing to fear, refusing to hope, refus-
ing to think at all.
He was brought out of his cave -- after,
presumably, 16.23 minutes - not by his
computer's renewed alarm but by the aroma
of strong coffee and a hand quietly but insis-
tently tugging the cover back from his head.
He rolled over and pushed himself up to a
sitting position to glance up at Spock, now
dressed and combed, one arm outstretched
to offer him a steaming mug. The first
officer's impeccable, regulation tidiness sent
a cold wash of fear over him; Spock looked
very much as if their night together had
never happened. Was that how they were
going to play it? Had Spock made his
decision, running scenarios, calculating odds
even as he showered off the last vestiges of
McCoy's sweat and scent and kisses? The
face above him was as unreadable as a Torite
rune. McCoy tried to make his own match it
as he pulled the blanket closer around him
and held out his hands; when Spock placed
the cup in them, he saw with a sinking heart
that the Vulcan carefully turned the mug
three quarters of an inch to prevent their
fingers from coming into contact.
McCoy sipped at his coffee, trying to
make his mind blank, forcing down the urge
to make Spock speak his decision aloud,
trying to convince himself that he hadn't lost
anything. Spock hadn't been his before and
was not his now. The night had been a fluke,
an astonishing gift. It did not give him any
right to make demands. But his heart had
never been one for logic; it liked the gift.
Liked it a lot. Wanted to keep it, hoard it,
have it forever, all to himself.
Something had to be said, and the coffee
made a good excuse. Keeping his face
resolutely emotionless, McCoy made himself
look into the dark eyes again. "Thanks,
Spock," he said blandly, ambiguously. Let
Spock take that however he wanted. But he
was falling into those eyes again, the eyes
now suddenly not just of a friend but of...
well, his heart's desire. Eyes that he now
knew were quite capable of loving him back,
.
I if they would. He tore his gaze away. He
didn't want to say it, didn't want to grovel,
but it came out of his throat all on its own,
Doctor.Backto titles. "Well, First Officer,"
he responded with another forced grin, "you
did that. Whatever else happened, you cer-
unstoppable. "So, Spock..." He stared hard at tainly did that. And you've given me some-
I the wall in front of him. 'What happens
now?"
thing that will probably shove those
wretched Vians right out of my dreams. So,
Spock did not answer immediately. thanks. Now go on and meditate, before
I When he did, naturally he responded to the
literal question rather than the figurative one
someone else catches you having an emo-
tional response."
McCoy had intended. "I must return to my Spock accepted both the honest
I quarters in order to meditate before the day
watch begins," he said placidly, only the
gratitude and the peevish verbal slap with a
short nod, turned, and departed, leaving the
whoosh of starship doors to echo in the sud-
angle of his shoulders giving away a degree
den emptiness of the room behind him.
I of discomfiture. "Is there anything you
need?"
McCoy shifted his gaze into his cup.
.....
"Yeah," he responded quietly. "You." He
I turned to look at Spock again; the Vulcan
was standing with his hands clasped behind
By 20:55that evening, McCoy was alter-
nately pacing his room and taking absent-
his back, as if poised to give McCoy one of minded swallows from his third shot of
I his insufferable lectures. That was the last
thing McCoy wanted at the moment. He
bourbon as he waited for Spock to show up.
It had been a long, difficult day. He was pret-
averted his eyes again, and continued, head- ty much back into the regular sickbay routine
I ing Spock off, "Sorry, Spock. That's unfair. I
just... I need to know if I've had all of you I'm
now, but he was still having those odd little
episodes of near-catatonia, so he refrained
from examinations and limited himself to the
going to get. I need to know that."
office and lab work. There was plenty of that;
I Spock's eyes, when he met them again,
were clouded with uncertainty, a condition
McCoy had very seldom observed in their
botanical samples were pouring in from the
survey party down on Bendak 5. He should
long years together. "I do not know," he have been down there himself, of course, but
I replied at last. "I must meditate." There was
an uncomfortable pause, then he continued
the captain had taken one look at him when
he showed up in the transporter room at the
oddly, "Please do not judge me until I have start of the survey three days ago, and sent
I done so."
"Judge...? What do you mean..."
him back to sidebay with orders to have M'-
Benga give him a once-over, and a warning
"I must go now. I would like to discuss that if he worked even five minutes more

I this further this evening. Would 2100 hours

be acceptable?"
than a regular shift for the next week, he
would confine him to quarters under guard.
"Sure, Spock. Door's always open. 2100 So, he had joined his lab techs in busily

I would be fine." He grinned, "So would 2300.

Or 0300.Anytime."
cataloging pharmaceutical properties of the
samples.
His staff had grown accustomed to
Spock hesitated to leave, however, and
when McCoy looked up at him again, he seeing him periodically freeze and turn un-
I lifted a hand toward the doctor's face, long
fingers reaching for the remnants of a welt
responsive, and knew what to do now. If he
started shaking, someone would come to his
above his left eye. But he stopped himself rescue, snapping him out of it with a call, a
I before actually making contact, turned
abruptly, and headed for the door. Halting
shake, or even a slap as necessary. Other-
wise, they let him be and worked around
before the sensors could activate it, he turned him until he came out of it. What they didn't
I again to face McCoy. "I apologize, Doctor. I
did not mean to cause you further distress; I
know, and weren't going to find out, was
that most of today's episodes had just been
intended only to reduce it." plain old daydreams, not those awful flash-
I . .

109
I
backs. He'd been trying to understand about
him and Spock.
As a result of all that daydreaming, he
thought he had it figured out now, and he
was pretty sure he knew what he had to do,
but it wasn't going to be real easy to pull off.
How it had happened was clear enough and
so was his own response. He needed some-
one to love him; had always needed that, but
right now he needed it desperately. He'd
have gone ga-ga over anyone who stepped in
and offered to take care of him the last few
days. When it turned out to be Spock... it had
just bowled him right over. Of course he was
in love. Natural. Normal human response,
topped off by the fact that he just didn't seem
to be able to makelove without falling in love.
For him, sex had a tendency to produce in-
fatuation with lightning speed.
But Spock... How to explain Spock's
response? Either the warmth of last night or
the coldness of this morning? He thought of
pon farr, of course, but that wasn't it. It
should be years away, but just to be sure
McCoy had checked the scansheets that had
been taken on Spock in the routine post-
planetary medcheck just a few days ago.
There was no hormone imbalance. Spock
was healthy as a horse.
Uh-huh. Hung like one, too.
He scolded himself for that thought, but
to no avail; it had already set loose a familiar
heat down in his trousers. Well, his need for
comfort seemed to be turning into plain old
lust. He supposed that was a good sign.
Spock. How was Spock suddenly able to
let go and be so affectionate? Maybe Spock
really was experimenting with his human
side at last. Or maybe he just pushed Spock's
daddy buttons somehow. Being needed was
a damn powerful pull on the old heart
strings for just about everybody; maybe his
own obvious need had allowed Spock to
abandon his reserve. No loss of face when
McCoy had been so vulnerable... He downed
his bourbon and poured another. Oh, who
the hell cared? It was enough that Spock had
allowed him, of all people, to experience that
part of him.
But then why had he gone all arctic on
him this morning? That was more important.
He had thought and thought and thought
..
110
about that. And he had come up with an
answer he didn't like one bit. It had to be the
meld. Spock had offered him a mind-meld,
and he had rejected it. That was probably
pretty damn rude. What would it cost a Vul-
can to offer up his privacy like that? And
then be turned down flat? And clearly, meld-
ing was part of Vulcan sex; maybe without it,
the experience just wasn't satisfactory.
Maybe a mind-blind partner was just dull in
bed. Spock had sure seemed satisfied,
though... But it must have to do with the
meld. And he had no solution for that. He
could march into hell for Spock, but he
couldn't undergo mind fusion for him.
Maybe in an emergency. But not on a regular
basis. Not since...
A bearded image loomed over him,
fingers reaching for his face...
No. He couldn't. So he just wasn't right
for Spock. But Speck probably felt guilty
about what had happened to McCoy down
there on Minara. He wouldn't want to break
it off, because he wouldn't want to hurt him.
McCoy would have to do it himself. He
wasn't going to have Spock making love to
him out of pity. If Spock didn't want him, he
wasn't going to try to hold him.
The door bleeped at him. 2100. Right on
time. He quickly shoved his shot glass back
into his liquor cabinet before responding,
"Come in."
Spock entered, and as the door slid shut
behind him, McCoy quickly took the offen-
sive. "Spock,look, you don't have to sayany-
thing. It's okay. I mean, I've thought it over,
and I have to tell you... It was nice and all,
but it can't work between us, Spock. It just
can't work." He steeled himself and looked
into Spock's black-velvet eyes. "Ilike women,
Spock. You need an exclusive bond, I under-
stand that, and I can't give it to you. First big
brunette that came along, and I'd He
shrugged. ..It's how I am. I'd just really rather
have a woman."
Spock looked at him solemnly for a mo-
ment, then clasped his hands behind his back
and said simply, "Ido not believe you."
McCoy had not expected to be caught
out so quickly. Having nothing to say to the
accusation, he said nothing.

"Are you able to discuss our situation ra-
tionally at this time, Doctor?" Spock con-
tinued.
McCoy bristled though he knew it was
just an honest inquiry into his state of mind
rather than the reproach it seemed to be. He
took a tight rein on his own emotions and
nodded. "Yeah. I think so."
"Then may I sit down?"
McCoy felt blood rushing to his face in
embarrassment as he struggled to retrieve his
basic manners. He waved a hand towards his
armchair. "Yeah, sure. Please. Um, can I get
you something to drink?"
Spock shook his head as he seated him-
self, and the doctor settled with some ap-
prehension into his desk chair.
"So," McCoy broke the silence, "what
makes you think I don't prefer women? Why
would I lie to you about that?"
Spock had steepled his hands, the joined
forefingers pointing at him like some kind of
weapon. "Ibelieve," he responded, "that your
statement was accurate, that in general, you
would prefer a female sexual partner over a
male. However, that general preference is
rendered irrelevant by the fact that specifical-
ly, you find that you now prefer... myself.
You have fallen in love with me. And you
would lie to me about it because you believe
I do not want you in return, and you would
spare me the emotional trauma of rejecting
you by rejecting me first. Am I correct?"
McCoy shifted in his chair and nodded.
"I do want you. This creates some
problems we must address."
That brought McCoy's eyebrows up.
That sure didn't sound like outright rejec-
tion. "And I'll just bet you're about to list
them for me right? In alphabetical order?"
And without giving Spock a chance to
respond, he went on, "All right, let me have
,em and we'll see how many I can shoot
down." He leaned forward, eyes wide and
intense. "Ready... Pull!"
He watched the puzzled flicker in
Spock's eyes turn to a satisfied gleam as he
deciphered the reference to the archaic Earth
sport of skeet-shooting. Three seconds. No
score. This was a years-old game between
them, McCoy trying to foil the Vulcan with
colloquialisms. If Spock had to ask for
. -
111
r
clarification, or remained perplexed for a
count of five, McCoy scored. The old pattern
put them both at ease, and McCoy felt the
smile behind his visitor's eyes.
"You are technically my subordinate in
the command structure. Inequality of power
makes a sexual relationship between us ethi-
cally questionable."
McCoy leaned back in his chair, mimick-
ed the configuration of Spock's hands, and
moved them slowly across his chest as if fol-
lowing skeet. "You ever notice me being par-
ticularly subordinate with you, Mister First
Officer? And as CMO I can give you orders
when I need to, and the Captain, too. I don't
see any real inequality of power here."
"Starfleet may not take that view, Doc-
tor."
"Starfleet can kiss my..."
"Doctor, Starfleet, to our purposes, is
represented on this ship by James Kirk. We
could be putting Jim in a personally difficult
position."
"Well,Jim doesn't need to know."
Spock just looked at him. Bedmates, as
McCoy knew perfectly well, did not remain
secret for long in the closed community of a
starship, however discreet their behavior.
"I mean officially, Spock," McCoy
clarified. "Sure, there'll be rumors. But there
are rumors now. About you two." He paused
at Spock's shocked glance. "Didn't you
know? I'm sorry, I thought you knew. Well,
hell, Spock," he went on uncomfortably, "it's
a logical surmise. Your quarters adjoin. You
spend a lot of evenings together. A fair num-
ber of the crew are pretty sure it ain't chess
you boys are playin' in there. So this'll just
keep everybody guessing. We'll just be care-
ful, that's all. We won't bring ourselves
under official scrutiny. Anyway, think about
the reason for those rules. They're there to
protect subordinates from coercion. And
there's sure not going to be any question of
coercion on either of our parts. So... Bang!
One down." He dropped his hands back to
his lap.
Spock nodded. "Then there is the ques-
tion of objectivity. Both medical and com-
mand decisions may be distorted when the
welfare of a lover is at risk."
 McCoy considered that one. It was a
problem. But he shook his head. "I saw you
put your own father's life on the line because
of the demands of logic and duty. You know
I took on the risks freely when I joined
Starfleet, just like everyone else on this ship.
You're not going to go against logic to
protect me if it comes down to it. If you ever
logically have to send me out to risk life and
limb, you'll do it. You'll hate yourself for it,
but you'll bottle that up and do what you
have to. Just as you should. And I haven't
been objective about you since... well, I don't
know since when, but certainly during the
last dozen times I had to operate on you.
And do you think I'm objective about Jim?
Or Christine? Or any of them, for that mat-
ter? Hell, no! But I can do what I have to do
in a crisis. What happens between us in my
bed isn't going to affect anything that hap-
pens between us in sickbay." He grinned and
leaned back in his chair. "Two. Pull."
"Finally... our needs appear to be incom-
patible."
At that, McCoy grew serious. Here was
the crux. ''You mean, you need to bond. A
mental link. Or it just isn't the real thing..."
He looked away. "I don't know what to say
to that, Spock, I don't think I can do it.
Having someone in my mind... Well, that's
just taking togetherness too far, I guess. I just
can't stand that..."
Spock was giving him a curious look.
''That is not what I meant, Doctor."
Startled, McCoy blinked at him. "It isn't?
But... Well, hell, Spock, I thought other than
that we were pretty damn compatible."
"A mental bond is necessary between
those mated for life. It is important in creat-
ing the proper psychological environment
for a family and it is vital in order to survive
pon farr. It is not necessary between us,
though a light link such as the one I at-
tempted to initiate last night would serve to
enhance pleasure and would also be a wise
precaution in case of pain."
"Oh."
"The problem is in... aftermath." It was
Spock who now shifted uncomfortably.
It gave McCoy a perverse gratification to
see his companion squirm a bit. As a doctor,
he at least had had plenty of practice discuss-
.-
112
ing intimate details in a nonthreatening man-
ner. "After... orgasm?" he prompted. "You
mean when you kind of passed out? I
figured that was normaL"
"A short period of... stasis... is quite nor-
mal, Doctor. No, I am referring to the need
for sleep."
There was a pause while McCoy
digested that information. "Spock... are you
trying to tell me I snore or something?"
Spack steepled his hands and gave him
an earnest look. "No, Doctor, you do not
snore. I would certainly have heard. How-
ever, you do... leak"
McCoy stared. Surely he didn't mean...
"I what?"he demanded.
"Leak," Spock repeated patiently. "You
leak emotions."
McCoy took a relieved breath.
Spock paused thoughtfully with a look
about the eyes that McCoy knew meant he
was consulting his internal thesaurus. "Or
perhaps," he mused, "'bleed' would be a bet-
ter metaphor." He looked up at McCoy
again. "In your case, an even more correct
term might be 'hemorrhage'. It is quite
natural to your species," he hastened to add,
realizing that McCoy was likely to interpret
that comment as an accusation, "and not sub-
ject to your own control. You are not at fault
in this, Doctor," he emphasized. "However,
sexual climax produces a near-total drain on
one's mental shields. I found myself bom-
barded with conflicting emotional impulses
throughout the night, and unable either to
control them at the source via mindlink or to
deflect them with shields." He paused, visib-
ly searching for a metaphor within the
human's experience. "Imagine your ears in-
vaded by Beethov'en's fifth symphony, a
quartet of yodelers from Zeta Cygnus III, the
dawn chorus of the birds and frogs of the
Amazon rainforest, and the barroom celebra-
tions of a cadet crew upon completing their
initial training cruise, simultaneously and at
high volume. It was most... disconcerting.
Rest was not possible. I did not function at
an acceptable level of efficiency today."
"Youdidn't sleep? All night?"
"No."
"Oh. Urn... so, 1... leak... even if I'm as-
leep?"
-.;
I
"Yes."
"Sorry, Spock."
"As I have said, you need not blame
yourself. However, since your species re-
quires continued physical contact with the
partner after sexual activity is concluded,
and mine requires physical separation in
order to recover... logic dictates that we are
not compatible partners."
McCoy laughed. 'Well, then... as I've al-
ways contended... Logic be damned, Spock!"
Spock gave him a mystified look. "Doc-
tor, I cannot pursue a relationship that will
inhibit efficient performance of my duties.
Weare engaged in exploration, frequently of
dangerous situations. Physical and mental ef-
ficiency are absolutely necessary."
McCoy shook his head in quiet amuse-
ment. "Spock... I have this friend who keeps
telling me that there are always possibilities.
He's a very smart friend. Mind you, he's not
always right, like he thinks he is. But in this
instance... I think we can work this out."
"Indeed?"
"Yeah. Indeed,"McCoy mimicked. "I see
several possibilities right off the bat. One is
that you'll get used to me." As Spock raised a
skeptical eyebrow, his voice grew indignant.
"Well, you might! Or you might learn that
letting your human half out to play once in a
while doesn't kill you, dammit! You can't tell
me you came here and crawled in bed with
me out of purely logical motives, Spock. That
was human compassion I was getting from
-
you not to mention human lust. You think
I don't recognize those?"
"Compassion," Spock intoned, "is not
only a human emotion, Doctor, nor does
logic preclude its exercise. Logic, in fact, re-
quires it. You were suffering from cold and
fear and remembered pain. To attempt to
provide you with a degree of comfort was in-
deed a logical course of action." He paused,
raising the joined forefingers of his steepled
hands to his upper lip. "However, I must
admit that I was unprepared for the...
aphrodisiac effect of your own affection for
me. It was quite remarkable." He cast a
speculative glance at his companion. "It
remains so," he added softly.
McCoy having no reply to that but a
pleased and embarrassed grin, Spock went
..
113
on, "However, I am afraid that the effect did
not, and could not, render the cacophony of
your emotions more tolerable."
"Spock... all couples have to get used to
one another's little foibles. For instance, right
now you're just too hot for me to be really
comfortable sleeping with you. But I could
get used to it."
"Doctor, for an unshielded touch
telepath to adjust to unfiltered emotion is
quite impossible. If sustained for a sufficient
length of time, it is probably the only effec-
tive method of torture that can be used on
Vulcans educated in the mind rules."
McCoy gave in. "Okay, so... two, maybe
I could learn to tone down all that stuff." He
didn't give Spock time to voice objections to
that hypothesis, but rushed on, ''Three... I
don't have to have everything my way,
Spock. You can say no if I'm too demanding.
You didn't have to stay with me, you
could've gone on back to your quarters."
"You made it quite clear that you re-
quired me to stay, Doctor."
"No," McCoy insisted. "Wanted you to
stay, yeah. Still do. I liked sleeping with you.
Almost as much as I liked making love with
you. But required? Since when can I require
anything of you? You've got rights, for
heaven's sake. Besides, I was acting from ig-
norance; if you'd told me the problem, I'd
have sent you packing back to your quarters
to sleep it off. I've been told I can be a selfish
s.o.b., but I'm not Attila. I wouldn't go so far
as to subject you to torture. You gotta stick
up for yourself, Spock."
There was a long pause before Spock
finally replied, "It seems I have left certain
variables out of the equation."
McCoy smiled at him and chided gently,
"Yeah. And after all this time, Spock, I sure
would have thought you'd know better than
to put me in any damned equation as a con-
stant instead of a variable. I'm insulted."
"Indeed."
It was McCoy's turn to leave a pause in
the air and grow serious. "So... one way or
another, I think we can work out the details.
The question is... do you want me the way I
want you?"
Spock gazed at him with serious dark
eyes, "And what way is that, Leonard?"
 Leonard. Was that an invitation? One
way to find out... McCoy smiled, stood up,
and walked over to him. Spock rose as he ap-
proached, and stood quite still as the doctor
reached two fingers of his right hand to trace
along his left eyebrow, as he had done so
many times the night before. "Every way,
Spock," he breathed. Then, slowly, as if
afraid of frightening off a unicorn, he let the
hand circle around to the back of Spock's
head, and moved in closer. He planted a
lingering kiss on the Vulcan's cheek. Spock
seemed to be in calculator mode, his expres-
sion set in stone. "Ughts dim," McCoy or-
dered, and wrapped his left arm around the
first officer's waist, drawing them tightly
together, groins pressing. Slowly, deliberate-
ly, he kissed the side of Spock's face, work-
ing past the high cheekbones, inching along
the ear. The Vulcan breathed easily, steadily,
thoroughly impassive.
McCoy's lips reached the tip of the ear;
he took it stealthily between his teeth and bit
down, none too gently.
Spock's breath sucked into his lungs in a
gratifying gasp, and he shivered and closed
his eyes. "I believe," he said, enfolding
McCoy at last in a return embrace, "that a
certain amount of..." He broke off with
another implosion of breath as McCoy's
fingers began attending to the other ear. "...
of experimentation... would reveal... the
answer... to your question, Doctor."
"Mm. Sure sounds logical to me," McCoy
murmured happily. "And how much further
research do you think it might take, Science
Officer?" He shifted his weight, letting his
nipples rub slowly across Spock's.
Spock blinked and leaned into the pres-
sure. "Proper research," he replied, reaching
his left hand under the doctor's tunic and
running it slowly over his lower back, "could
require... quite some time."
"'Quite some' is not a very scientific es-
timate, Spock."
"No," Spock replied, abruptly lifting
McCoy's tunic over his head, and dropping it
to the floor in a very un-Vulcan, untidy heap.
"It is not. This suggests that a preliminary
study would be in order." Spock's own blue
tunic joined McCoy's. The human's chest
was cool, soothing against the sudden sensa-
. .
114
tion of fever in his own skin. He pressed into
the coolness.
McCoy welcomed the heat, felt it kindle
his own skin. He slipped a hand between
their chests to circle the small, olive-colored
teats, turning up the thermostat. "Any par-
ticular time you'd like to start that prelimi-
nary study, Spock?"
Spock was once more thoroughly in con-
trol of himself, but was deliberately allowing
his body to enjoy the doctor's attentions. "As
you are still somewhat threatened by visiting
Vian scientists," he replied, shifting his stance
to ease his right leg between McCoy's knees,
his thigh lightly massaging the human's
genitals to attention while his hands worked
up and down McCoy's spine, "I would sur-
mise that the present moment would be an
excellent starting point."
McCoy, eyes closed, moved his feet
apart and slid a few inches down to give
Spock freer access to his bulging crotch. He
swallowed hard and burrowed his forehead
into Spock's shoulder as the Vulcan obliged
him by switching to a hand, the long fingers
stroking him gently through the fabric of his
Fleet trousers, and sending sparklers of
delight through his nervous system. "You
know, Spock," he got out between gasps, his
blue eyes open now and glowing in the
room's simulated twilight, "those damn
Vians sure are unpredictable. Show up any
old time. Day or night. I just never know."
"That should provide frequent oppor-
tunities for gathering data." Spock pressed
harder and was rewarded with an involun-
tary upward lurch and a moan from his
partner.
"Yep," McCoy babbled, "ill-mannered
folks, those Vians." He grabbed for Spock's
hand, urging it to work faster, harder, but
Spock simply imprisoned the hand in his
embrace, and continued tending to McCoy's
erection at his own sedate pace. McCoy
groaned and squirmed against him. "No
manners at all," he went on. "No knock, no
signal. Just pop right in. Uninvited, too. And
then haul you off and..."
"Doctor."Spock halted his activity.
"Yes, Spock?" McCoy was beginning to
pant.
I r

"Doctor,as I believe I have pointed out up into him, bearing down ever more firmly.
I before, you talk toomuch."
"Leonard, Spock. The name's Leonard.
For perhaps the first time on their long
voyage he willingly, faithfully, and even
Thought you Vulcans had better memories cheerfully followed his physician's prescrip-
I than that. Am I gonna have to bite those ears
off after all?"
tion, and let his human half "out to play," en-
joying the exquisite sensation of the soft belly
"Leonard." skin against his rigid organ as he once again
I "Yes,Spock?"
"Your logical course of action at this
made cautious, eager, amazed love with
Leonard McCoy.
point in time would be to... shut up and kiss ..........
me."
I "Okay, Sp... mmmf..." McCoy broke off
McCoy ran a hand idly and contentedly
as Spock decided that action was in order,
the human having once again failed to along Spock's ribs and up over the muscles
I respond correctly to reason.
Spock kept the doctor's mouth fully oc-
of his shoulder, now fully relaxed. The first
officer wouldn't mind. Not for a' few more
cupied as he casually picked him up and car- minutes, anyway. For a few more minutes,
I ried him to the now familiar sleeping alcove.
Once there, he allowed a rather dizzy McCoy
he could hold him like this, enjoying the feel
of the smooth, dry skin, admiring the power
a brief breathing space while he swiftly dis- in the lean body that had just given him so
I posed of the remainder of their clothing. He
paused a moment to gaze in some wonder at
much pleasure. For the time being, he gave
free rein to his upwelling emotions, some
the lean figure waiting for him there on the analytical part of his brain cataloging them
I bed, remembering the illogical sacrifice, the
unexpected insubordination; remembering
how the doctor had looked, sounded,
for him as they surged through him.
Gratitude; love; lust; joy; wonder... All of
them at just about hurricane force. He sighed
smelled when the Vians finished with him. and rubbed his cheek against that of his
I Was McCoy right? Would he really, if it were
necessary, be able to send this man out to
catatonic lover. No wonder Spock couldn't
handle that. A pity, though. For him, it was
death? Or had this liaison already thrown just exactly this roller coaster that made life
I wild cards into his logic patterns?
A cool dampness closing upon his swell-
worthwhile.
McCoy felt the pulse at Spock's temple
ing cock caused him to actually jump. jump up a notch. He'd be coming around
I McCoy grinned up at him with a self-
satisfied air. "Spock," he declared, "you got a
soon. Time to pull himself together. He
closed his eyes and visualized a stormy lake,
damn short attention span for a Vulcan letting his breath be the waves of emotion
I scientist. I don't think that's normal. I think
maybe I'm gonna have to run a physical on
that kept the surface roiling with whitecaps.
Gradually, he brought all three
-
-
waves, emotions under control, until the
breath,
you."
"Indeed?"
I "Yeah. Lie down and breathe deep."
"Certainly, Doctor." Obediently, he lay
lake lay placid, rippling gently, reflecting the
broken image of a golden moon. He tried to
calm it still further, his goal a mirror surface
down - flat on top of McCoy, his palms so quiet that he could count the moon's
I pressing McCoy's into the mattress, his knees
capturing the doctor's legs. As ordered, he
craters in it. So quiet that it would be no bur-
den to Spock. Almost there. Almost... He
breathed deeply, taking in the sharp, sud- could just make out the bright southern
I denly invigorating scents of the human: iron
and salt and soap and ethanol and after-
crater. Quieter. So quiet that Spock would
simply go to sleep when he emerged from
shave. He began to move in harmony with this sex-induced stupor, and would not have
I his breath, slow, even, deep, sliding his body
across his lover's, barely touching at first,
to leave him. Would not leave him here in
the dark. Would not leave him lying here in
the dark, on this slab... on this cold slab... in
then, as McCoy began to squirm and press
I ..

115
I
the laboratory.The lake water turned black
and roared around him in a sucking, surging
whirlpool. It reached for him greedily,
yanked at him, but his wrists were chained
to a rock. The water sought to claim him,
dragged at his legs; it would pull him in two,
but it would have him... He cried out...
..........
The first thing Spock noticed as he once
again became aware of his surroundings was
the wash of emotions beating at him from the
quiescent body beneath him. He winced and
called illogically upon his shields; he was il-
logically disappointed, though not surprised,
to get nothing but a short-lived flicker that
dimmed the unwanted waves of elation and
fear and determination only slightly before
allowing them to attack him in full force once
more. McCoy's body lay tranquil despite the
emotions that it was giving off. He was not
asleep yet, but perhaps he soon would be. If
he could get through a few more minutes of
this, the doctor would be safely asleep, and
he could extricate himself from the jarring
contact. He could go to his own quarters,
where he could get warm, and sleep for a
few hours. He could come back and check on
McCoy before morning, ensure that he was
not troubled by the Vians.
Spock ground his teeth as a jolt of pride
assaulted him, twined incongruously with a
loud burst of affection. Shields... No shields...
Therearealways possibilities,my son... Humans
had no shields; yet they sometimes did have
to shut out emotions. How did they do it?
When highertechnologyis unavailable,onemust
resurl to more primitive means. Perhaps
meditation. He went back to the earliest les-
sons, concentrating on his breath, focusing
his attention on a single point eight inches in
front of his eyes, down inside McCoy's mat-
tress. It worked; slowly, the roar ebbed to a
nearly tolerable level.
He found himself unable to maintain
even that simple meditative state, however,
as the need for sleep ate away at his con-
centration. He braced for a renewed surge of
unwanted emotion as he lost his hold on the
trance, but when it came, it was surprisingly
weak. Still unpleasant, but not overwhelm-
. .
116
- - - --
ing. Momentarily surprised out of his weari-
ness, Spock examined his partner carefully.
Was McCoy all right? Why had his emotion-
allevel dropped so precipitously?
It didn't take him long to determine
what McCoy was doing; he was engaging in
meditation himself. Excellent. Perhaps the
doctor meditated in order to induce sleep,
and once he was asleep...
The little waves pushed at him. Not
hard now, but pestering. His jaw twitched as
his mind once again tried to raise its non-ex-
istent shields. He sighed and closed his eyes
with a useless and therefore illogical wish
that Leonard would hurry up and go to
sleep.
Out of nowhere, a tremendous rogue
wave of fear and desolation crashed into
him. His eyes flew open, his hands clutched
at his temples, and he rolled abruptly away
from his bedfellow, falling to the floor with a
startled cry that was echoed by another. He
looked up to see McCoy's wide blue eyes
blinking owlishly down at him over the edge
of the bed.
"Geez, Spock," he exclaimed, "I'm sorry.
Are you all right?" He reached a hand to help
the Vulcan up, but stopped himself when
Spock flinched away from him. "Oh. Guess
that's not gonna help, is it?" he asked rhetori-
cally.
Spock pushed himself up into a sitting
position, rubbing his hip to increase circula-
tion and prevent bruising. "No," he replied,
almost testily.
"I'm sorry," McCoy repeated. "I really
thought I didn't kick anymore."
Spock gave him a long-suffering gaze.
"You do not."
"But... Well, then... Spock, what are you
doing down there?"
Spock mastered a surge of impatience.
"You do not kick, Leonard, but your emo-
tionalleak suddenly amplified approximate-
ly forty-fold."
~
McCoy blinked again. "Oh. A gusher."
"An apt, if overly colorful metaphor." II
"Sorry. Must've been quite a shock."
"Yes."
"I was trying to keep it down."
"I see." .
.
.
- -- --

"I thought maybe it'd be okay if I could
just keep my brain kinda calmed down until
you fell asleep."
Spock's only reply was a sigh that
turned into a yawn.
"Not a very successful experiment, I
guess," McCoy said dejectedly.
Spock reached for a blanket and
wrapped it around himself. The room was
sufficiently warm for McCoy. "Nor," he said
slowly, "was my own."
"Huh?"
"I was attempting to put up with your
emotional input long enough for you to fall
asleep. I believed I might, as you
hypothesized, begin to accustom myself to
the situation. Unfortunately, however, I
found it even less tolerable than on the pre-
vious occasion."
"Oh." After a moment, McCoy chuckled.
"So,we were trying to wait each other out."
"Evidently."
There was a glum silence, into which
Spock yawned again.
McCoy shook his head with a wistful
smile. 'Well, now we know. Sleeping
together's just not gonna be part of the pack-
age. It's a damn shame," he sighed, ''but so it
goes. Go home, Spock. Go to bed."
Spock nodded, and began to pick up his
clothing and dress himself in a sleepy daze.
"Um... that's my shirt,lover."
Spock stared at the tunic he had been
about to pull over his head, and noticed the
stripe-and-a-half at the end of the sleeve.
McCoy grinned and tossed Spock's own
tunic to land draped over the Vulcan's
shoulder. "Can't have you wandering around
the ship impersonating an inferior officer.
Now that would really start some talk!"
Spock nodded again solemnly, and
finished making himself presentable. "Good
night, Leonard," he said quietly, and started
toward the door. There was something about
that phrase, though, that nagged at him. He
turned back around with a puzzled wrin-
kling of eyebrows, and remembered. He
returned to the bed, where McCoy was now
sitting up looking bemused and just a little
forlorn. Spock steeled himself and took the
doctor's face between his hands to plant an
..
117
r
affectionate, if rather short-lived, kiss upon
his lips.
McCoy laughed. 'Thanks, Spock. Now
get on home before you fall over. G'night."
He paused, and asked, "Are you gonna be
able to get there okay?"
"Yes,"Spock replied seriously. "It is not
far." He seemed to wake up a bit as he eyed
McCoy carefully. 'Will you be all right?
What about... your visitors?"
"I'll be fine." It was the sort of partial
truth that was so useful with Spock. This
thing wasn't going to last forever. He would
be fine. Eventually.
Spock looked unconvinced.
"Go on, Spock. I'm planning to dream
about you, Hot Stuff." He tapped his
forehead. "I'm not gonna leave any room in
here for those assholes tonight."
Spock had not known that humans
could plan out their dreams. Sleep clamored
for his attention. ''Very well," he told McCoy,
"but do not make your dreams too energetic.
You require rest."
McCoy grinned. "Is that an order, sir?"
"No. It is... advice. And a request."
"A request?"
"Yes. I would like you to keep yourself
in fit condition to continue..."
"Spock,"McCoy interrupted, "Go to bed!
And that is an order. From your kindly fami-
lyCMO."
"Yes, Leonard," Spock replied, and left
the doctor's quarters. It was not until he ar-
rived at his own door that it occurred to him
to wonder why, if Leonard could direct his
dreams, he had chosen to put himself back
into the laboratory the night before. McCoy's
latent martyr complex could be asserting it-
self in new and possibly dangerous ways. In-
side his own warm, dark quarters, Spock
disrobed quickly and lay down in his sleep-
ing alcove. Perhaps the doctor required
psychiatric attention. But McCoy was the
ship's only psychiatrist. A conundrum. He
would have to think about it in the morning,
when his logic circuits were refreshed and
working properly. He felt he was missing
some crucial bit of this equation. Perhaps he
should also mention the matter to the Cap-
tain. Jim had known McCoy a long time. Per-
 haps he would know what should be done
for him.
Jim had apparently not been spending
much time with the doctor since their escape
from Minara, however. The captain normally
ate meals with McCoy, and also came to him
for ethanol and conversation one or two
evenings a week. Spock had seen no sign of
such visits lately. It seemed odd behavior for
long-standing friends. Jim had formed this
friendship with McCoy when he was a
lieutenant on the Farragut and had been in-
jured so severely that there had been doubts
as to his walking again. The surgeon had
given him back his legs and his confidence,
and it was that history of authority over Jim
that no doubt accounted for McCoy's relative
immunity to the captain's command
presence. McCoy said what he believed, with
an exquisite disregard for rank - a useful
trait, even if both Spock and the captain
found it sometimes personally annoying.
He wondered what Jim would think
about this new dimension to his friends'
relationship. Would he oppose it as inconsis-
tent with the spirit of Starfleet regulations?
Or would he approve, rejoicing in their good
fortune? Would he be jealous? If so, of
whom? Had Jim ever found McCoy sexually
desirable? Had he ever found him sexually
desirable? What would it be like to have
Jim's muscular body surging eagerly under
him as McCoy's had done? Or over him? Jim,
he suspected, would prefer to be a "top."
What would McCoy think if he knew that
Spock was even thinking about this? He had
said he could not give Spock an exclusive
bond, that he would want women. Was it
true? Did it matter? What level of fidelity
was expected of him? What level of fidelity
did he want himself?
Spock noticed that his mind was bab-
bling, stopped it, and sank instantly into the
complete, undistracted, dreamless and res-
torative sleep of his people. . with a firm grasp above the elbow. ''What do
IV
Jim Kirk felt a twinge shoot through his
lower back as he stepped down from the
transporter platform with several crewmen
. .
118
returning from the survey. He really should
have used an antigrav lever on that last root.
But with Maya standing just a few meters
away the chance to do something manly had
just been irresistible. He hoped the resulting
grimace had appeared more manly than
idiotic, but he had his doubts.
"Thank you, Mr. Scott," he told his Chief
Engineer, standing at the controls, and
nodded at the waiting cadre of blue- and
red-shirted ensigns. "Enjoy your shift,
people." He exited the transporter room
amid a chorus of eager acknowledgment.
The atmosphere of the planet below was
oxygen-rich and invigorating, with just a
touch of nitrous oxide produced by the local
vegetation. After reports from the first team,
the crew had been jockeying for planet duty.
McCoy's report had assured him there
would be no harm in breathing the stuff.
"We'll just have a real amiable bunch for a
while," he'd said. "But keep 'em down to a
half-shift a day." That not only prevented
overexposure, but ensured that everyone
who wanted to volunteer could get a chance
on the survey work.
Kirk entered the turbolift and automat-
ically told it, "Bridge." He leaned against the
rail, and felt another twitch in his back. "Can-
cel," he told the lift suddenly. "Sickbay." He
knew this particular twinge well. He'd save
both himself and McCoy a lot of trouble -
and the bridge crew a good deal of snapping
- if he had Bones take care of this now in-
stead of tomorrow.
When he arrived and asked if McCoy
could take a few minutes to deal with his
muscle spasms, Nurse Chapel informed him
that the CMO was not presently seeing
patients but that she thought Doctor M'-
Benga could probably see him right away,
and started to lead him to the examining
room.
"Just a minute," he said, stopping her
you mean, McCoy's not seeing patients?
Since when?"
She frowned slightly. "Since about the
last three days, Captain."
"Why not?"
"He's... for medical reasons, sir."
"What kind of medical reasons?"
.
I
"I think you should really ask him that He paused seH-consciously, "Oh, but I guess
I yourseH, sir. Sorry," she smiled apologetical-
ly. "It's private information."
I should warn you that 1..."
"McCoy,sit down."
He opened his mouth to voice an objec- McCoy's brows knit together in puzzle-
I tion, thought better of it, and replied, "I'll do
that. Where is he?"
ment, but he obeyed.
"As I said, I came down for a treatment,
"In Pharmacy, Lab 3. But, sir, don't you and I was told you aren't seeing patients."
I want Doctor M'Benga to..." She stared after
the captain's retreating back and sighed, "I
McCoy was silent.
"Well?"
guess not." "Um, yeah, that's right."
I In Pharmacy Lab 3, he found McCoy
hunched over an analyzer, examining spectra
lines. "Take a coffee break," he told the
"Why?"
"Well, I'm... not really fit to treat anyone
just now."
"Not fit? You took yourself off duty as
I physician.
McCoy glanced up, his scowl at the in-
terruption switching to pleased surprise as
unfit, and you didn't tell me? You didn't
think the captain should know something
he recognized the intruder. He straightened like that?"
I up and rubbed a knot in his lower back. "Jim!
Good to see you! How's it goin' down
McCoy blushed. "Not off duty, Jim... just
away from the patients for a little while,
there?" that's all."
I "Like clockwork. Come on, Bones, let's
get some coffee." A peculiar set to the
"Why? What's wrong?"
"I... well, I don't want to scare
captain's eyes informed the doctor that he anybody..."
I was about to be called on the carpet, and
Kirk was trying to avoid doing it in front of
Kirk's eyes widened with alarm. "Bones!
It's not that xeno-whatever again, is it?"
McCoy grinned crookedly. "No, no.
McCoy's technicians.
"Sure, Jim. Give me ten seconds, here." Nothing like that. I'm okay. I've just been
I HI:!pressed some codes, sending the data for
correlation, and ejected the sample. "Okay,"
having these little episodes is all."
"What do you mean, 'episodes'?"
he smiled, "I could use a coffee about now. "I'm having a little post-traumatic stress
I My office okay? We've got quite a backlog
down here, I'd rather not take the time to
trouble, Jim. I zone out every so often. And
it's generally considered bad medical prac-
head down to Rec." tice to have an out-of-body experience in the
I "Fine with me," Kirk nodded.
The short trip down the corridor and
middle of an examination, so I'm having
Geoffrey tend to the actual patients for a
through sickbay to McCoy's office was made while."

I in silence. As soon as the door had slid shut

behind them, McCoy activated his "emergen-
Kirk was silent for a minute. "Why
didn't you tell me this?"
cy only" light, and punched up two coffees. McCoy sighed. ''Well, I figured it would
blow over in a few days. I didn't see any call
I "I really did need this," he said, handing
one to Kirk and waving him to a chair as he
settled behind his desk and sipped nervously
to worry you." .
Kirk shot him an exasperated glower.
at his own. ''Well, Captain, as a keen medical "Dammit, Bones, I'm the captain of this ship,
I observer... I'd say you look a little agitated.
What's up?"
and I'm your friend. On both counts, I think
I'm entitled to know something like this!"
"That's what I want to know, Bones. I McCoy chewed his lip for a minute,
I came down here to have you plaso my back
for me and..."
shoulders slumping under the reprimand,
his gaze fixed inside his coffee cup. "Yeah,"
"Is that acting up? I told you to go easy he said finally. "Yeah, you are. Sorry, Jim. I
I on the lifting, Jim." He rose and reached for a
plaser lying on his desk. ''Well, let me have a
just... I was just kind of hoping it would go
away and I wouldn't have to bring anybody
else in on it..."
look, I can probably fix that up right now."
I ..

119
I
 --
"This," Kirk teased amiably, settling back
in his chair, "from the man who's always tell-
ing everybody - including our favorite Vul-
can, whom it drives to distraction - how
important it is not to keep things bottled up."
McCoy's posture continued to display
his dejection. "Sorry," he said again, looking
everywhere but at Kirk, "I don't seem to be
handling any of this very well..."
"Handling... what exactly?" Kirk in-
quired gently.
McCoy stared at him.
"Something in that last mail transmis-
sion?" Kirk prompted.
The doctor shook his head in both denial
and disbelief, and continued to examine the
captain's face closely for several seconds
before replying. "Minara," he said softly,
astonished that Jim had to ask. "Minara."
Jim's face said clearly Oh. That. As if it
were a fall from a horse, or a skiing accident.
There was an uncomfortable pause.
"They took you, too," McCoy broke the
silence, his voice defensive. ''Don't you
have... dreams about it?"
"No," Kirk said simply. "Idon't."
"No, you wouldn't," McCoy mused as if
to himself. ''You damn white-knight types,"
he went on, his tone almost accusing now.
"Go in, slay the dragon, get slashed and
burned in the process, and go home and
sleep like a baby. So long as you don't actual-
ly get killed."
"Bones..."
"I'm sorry." McCoy was growing more
agitated. "Like I said, I don't seem to be han-
dling this very well."
"Bones..."
"Know what I wish? I wish I could have
your personality type. Just for a few weeks.
Just to see how it feels to be so damn
resilient. To be able to just walk away and go
back to work when you've had the stuffing
blasted out of you. Instead of coming apart at
the seams. Getting the goddamned willi-
woos. You'd think-"
"Bones!" Kirk broke in firmly. "Stop it!
Stop kicking yourself. And me."
McCoy flushed and was silent.
"I don't think either of us has anything
to be ashamed of about Minara," Kirk said
heatedly. "And I don't think either of us
..
120
- - -.,.--
.
needs to apologize for who we are. And I am
not going to let you make me angry with you
for saving my life! So stop this and tell me
exactly what's going on with you."
It was clearly an order, and had the
desired effect; McCoy switched visibly to
medical mode. "All right. Ever since we
beamed back up from Minara, I've been ex-
periencing vivid dreams re-enacting the time
I spent in the Vian lab. Three days ago, I
started having random flashback hallucina-
tions while I was awake as well." He licked
his lips, and went on, almost defensively,
"It's not that uncommon for humans who've
been subjected to torture."
Kirk nodded. "Prognosis?"
"Uncertain."
'Worst case."
"Worst case... indefinitely continued un-
predictable flashbacks; paranoia and/ or
other emotional disorder leading to inability
to perform my duties; early retirement on
Starfleet disability."
It was unnervingly like talking to Spock.
"Okay. Best case."
"Best case, I get a good night's sleep
tonight, I never see another damn Vian the
rest of my life, real or imaginary, and some-
time, just once before I die, I beat Spock at
chess two games in a row."
Kirk grinned. That was more like it.
"Bones, you're sounding better already. See,
it really does do you good to talk about it.
You should take your own prescriptions
more often, McCoy."
"Yeah," McCoy grinned back. "Yeah, I
guess I should."
Kirk grew serious again. "So, what about
treatment for this?" f
"Well, I'm hoping it'll just run its course
and I'll be done with it."
The captain's eyes narrowed. "You're I
not going to do anything about it?"
"Not for now, no. There isn't any useful
chemotherapy for this over the long term. If I
it doesn't start clearing up on its own in a
few weeks, I'll have to take leave and maybe
try hypnotherapy at some Fleet medical I
facility. But... well, they don't have a very
high success rate with this kind of thing. So
I'm hoping it won't come to that." I
"There must be something you can do."
I
I
II
"I'm doing it. I'm keeping busy, and
II spending a lot of time in my bunk." Soaking
up emotionalsupport from your first officer,he
did not add. "Jim... I'll let you know when
II it's time to worry." He held Kirk's bright
gaze for a moment, then added, "Or to start
looking for a replacement."
I "That's an unacceptable solution, Doctor.
You'll have to do better than that."
McCoy smiled at him. "I'll do my best on
I that one, Jim. Count on it."
"I will. But you keep me posted. That's
an order."
"Yes,sir, I'll do that."
I "Daily reports," Kirk clarified.
"Over brandy okay?"
Kirk smiled and leaned back in his chair.
I "You've been hanging around Spock too
much, Doctor. You're turning into a mind-
reader."
I "No need to get insulting, Jim."
Kirk sat up straight again, a slight frown
crossing his face. "Speaking of Spock... do
I you think he could be having any repercus-
sions from Minara, too?"
McCoy hid his startle with a fairly con-
I vincing cough. "Idon't think so, Jim. Why?"
"He just seems to have been making
himself kind of scarce lately, that's all. He
usually comes around for chess most even-
I ings, but he hasn't stopped by for the last
several days."
"They didn't hurt him, Jim. I think he's
fin e."
I "Yeah, but... I'd feel better if you made
sure. His human side may be in trouble. It
I was hard on him, you know, watching
you..."
Die. It hung in the air.
I "Yeah. I remember. I was there. All right,
I'll talk to him." McCoy caught Kirk's gaze.
They might as well have it out now. ''What
about you, Jim?"
I "What about me?"
"Well, you've been making your self
scarce around me since we left Minara, and
I you just told me it's not because you're busy
with a chess tournament. Anything you want
to get off your chest?"
I Kirk's stiffened. "Like what?" he asked
warily.
"Like maybe... a reprimand."
I . .
"What?" That had clearly caught the
captain off guard.
McCoy met his eyes calmly, in control
now, wrapped securely in his duties as
therapist. "I thought you might have a little
something to say to me about insubordina-
tion."
"Bones!"Jim gave him a hurt look. ''You
really thought I'd put you on report for pull-
ing all our butts out of the fire? What do you
think I am?"
"The captain," McCoy responded quiet-
ly, "And an angry one at that. Look at you.
Now that you're thinking about it, you're
tighter than a highwire."
"Angry?" Kirk rose and paced the room.
"Well of course I'm angry! When I think
what those bastards did to you, I'd like to...
crack their fool heads together and hear their
tiny little brains roll around inside. But not at
you, Bones."
"You sure?"
"Yes.I'm sure."
McCoy pushed his tongue thoughtfully
against the inside of his cheek. "I'm not," he
said. "You're telling me you're not bothered
that I took away your right to command?"
"1..."Kirk stopped pacing and looked at
McCoy with a chagrined smile. 'Well, maybe
a little."
McCoy snorted. "That's better. So
describe to me exactlywhat it is that's pissing
you off."
"Bones... I came here to have my back
worked on, not for a psych session."
"Well I'm prescribing one. We can have
it out now, Captain, over coffee and off the
record, or I can make you an official appoint-
ment in sickbay. Your choice. But I'd really
prefer this way, Jim," he smiled. "Come on."
He tapped a finger on his chin. "Give it to me
right here."
Kirk stared into his cup for a minute.
.
"All right," he sighed. "I guess... Dammit,
Bones, I expected you to trust me."
"Trust you?"
"Yes! You knocked me out before I
could..."
McCoy waited.
"You should have trusted me... to have a
plan," Kirk finished.

121
I
 "Did you have a plan? Other than to go
with them yourseH, I mean."
"I...No, but..."
"But you're the Captain, and it was your
job to get us out of there and you failed,"
McCoy said bluntly.
"Kirk
~""
winced and closed his eyes.
"
J .&.1.&,...
Kirk opened haunted eyes to meet his
gaze again.
"You have to understand, Jim. I knew
you didn't have a plan. I don't think you
knew it, but I did. Because there was no way
out of that one. It was Kobayashi Maru time,
but you couldn't see it." McCoy sipped at his
coffee. "I know you better than anyone in the
galaxy, Jim. And you never could see a no-
win situation, because you don't believe in
them. Spock and I could see it, though. We
knew the only thing to do was cut our losses.
We just had a little disagreement about what
the least objectionable loss would be. We
agreed about you, though. And you know
that when Spock and I agree on something,
you can bet the farm on it. We were right,
too. That speech of yours was what saved us
all, Jim. Only... I doubt it would've worked if
they hadn't been just about finished with
their little experiment by then."
Kirk stared at him. "And next time you
think we've hit a no-win scenario, Bones?
What then?"
McCoy shrugged. "Idon't know, Jim."
"You'll just knock me out and do
whatever the hell you think best? Is that
what it comes down to?" Kirk pursued.
"Well... I suppose that's a possibility,
yes," McCoy replied. "But frankly, I don't
think you have to worry about that, Jim. It
was essentially a medical decision I made
there, remember. I was acting legitimately in
my capacity as CMO, doing what I con-
sidered to be in the best interest of the cap-
tain and crew of my ship. You were sick-"
"No, I wasn't. Gem-"
"You were still in pain," McCoy inter-
rupted in turn. "In my professional opinion
you were in no condition to command, and I
took appropriate medical action. I'll stand by
that decision. And honestly, Jim," he raised
his right hand in a gesture of oath-taking, "if
you hadn't been injured I wouldn't have
..
122
knocked you out. It was your decision; I'd
have let you make it."
"Right. And what about zapping
Spock?"
McCoy reddened.
"Well? Was his ability to command im-
paired, Doctor?"
Kirk could see the cogs turning as
McCoy scrambled for an answer. When the
blue eyes lit up, he knew the doctor had
latched onto one. "Apparently so, Jim,"
McCoy replied with a distinct note of tri-
umph. "He was letting sentiment interfere
with his logic. In my book, that's not normal
behavior for Spock"
"And that would be your testimony
before a hearing?"
McCoy blinked in startled dismay. A
hearing?He hadn't thought of that. But, of
course, Fleet regs would require a hearing.
He could be in deep trouble. He licked his
lips and replied firmly, "Yes,sir. It would."
Kirk shook his head slowly. "It would
never hold water."
"I suppose not. But it's all I've got.
Otherwise, I'd just have to plead guilty."
Kirk nodded. Guilty of an excess of
loyalty, an excess of love. He wanted to hug
McCoy. Almost as much as he wanted to
smack him. ''Well, lucky for you there's not
going to be a hearing, then, isn't it?"
McCoy smiled. "Yes,sir," he replied.
."But" if you ever do anything like that
agam...
"Understood, Captain."
"Good." Kirk relaxed out of his military
posture and settled back into his chair. "So,
about that daily report you're going to give
me. Your quarters this evening, say about
2100?"
"Urn, actually, how about tomorrow
after first shift?"
Kirk raised a brow in inquiring innuen-
do. "Anything going on I should know
about?"
Probably."I should turn in early," he ex-
plained. "I need to make up some sleep."
True enough. He did need a lot more sleep
than he'd been getting. He wasn't actually
planning on getting it, but he did need it. He
changed the subject. "So,you trust me to look
I
at that back, or do you want Geoffrey to do it
I for you?"
"You, if you're up to it. You know it
best."
I "I'm up to it," McCoy responded, stand-
ing up and waving Kirk to the narrow bunk
the doctor used when some emergency kept
I him in sickbay through the night. ''Take off
your shirt and get comfortable." He pulled a
chair up to the bed as Kirk obeyed, and
I began running skilled fingers over the mus-
cular back until he located the problem area.
"Okay," he said, activating the plaser, "this is
going to take a few minutes. Talk to me, and
I if I stop answering, call Chapel."
"Okay." After a short pause, he asked,
"So,Bones... How many Klingons does it take
I to change a light bulb?"
McCoy gave a good-natured groan, but
they continued to trade old worn-out jokes,
I and he completed the procedure with no
mental absences. He finished up with a
therapeutic massage of the muscles around
I the injury, stood up, and tossed Kirk's shirt
onto his back. "Okay, Captain. Layoff the
workouts for two days, and that should be
good as new."
I As he pulled his tunic back over his
head, Kirk gazed thoughtfully at McCoy. The
physical sensation of the doctor's warm, con-
I fident fingers working on his injuries had
brought vivid memories of Gem to the sur-
face. "Bones, I almost hate to bring this up,
I but..."
McCoy just looked at him quizzically.
"Well it just occurred to me... I think I
I know why I'm not having the same adverse
reaction you are."
McCoy frowned. "Oh?" he inquired
reluctantly, embarrassed at the memory of
I his earlier outburst.
Kirk's hazel eyes gleamed. "Yeah," he
said eagerly, "I think... Bones, I think Gem
I somehow took care of the emotional effects
as well as the physical damage. I remember,
when she was finished, there was this sense
I of... well-being." He waited.
McCoy just watched him, cautiously.
"She didn't get that far with you," Kirk
I finished. "She passed out. The Vians used
that device of theirs to repair the worst of
what they'd done, so you were out of actual
I ..
123
I
danger. But they didn't do anything about
the psychological damage." His eyes went
dark and distant. "Probably didn't even
occur to the bastards," he glowered. "Bones...
I'm sorry. I should have known what you
were going through. I feel like an idiot. And
not much of a friend."
McCoy blinked. "Don't," he said, "It
wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault.
Or mine. Or Spock's. It was them. Only
them." He cleared his throat. "I'd better be
getting back to work now," he said abruptly,
tossing the plaser back onto his desk.
Kirk rose and stretched his back. With a
satisfied nod, he told McCoy, ''Thanks. Your
place tomorrow, then. 1800?"
"Fine," McCoy responded as he escorted
him to the door. But instead of following him
out and heading back to the lab, McCoy
fetched himself another cup of coffee and
stared at the medical paraphernalia decorat-
ing his walls, his mind busying itself with
thoughts of Gem. He tried to remember what
it had felt like, whether she had indeed
worked on his mind. He couldn't recall any-
thing like Jim had described. Just the physi-
cal relief her touch brought as he lay there
drifting in and out of consciousness, until he
had finally roused enough to understand
what was happening. Then the panic and the
strain of trying to stop her, the relief of suc-
ceeding, the renewed agony from the effort,
and finally, the grateful sinking into oblivion.
And then the faint smile of welcome on
Spock's face when he roused again...
He glanced at the chrono. In just about
eight hours now, Spock would come to his
door, and take him to bed. To bed and much
too far away from Minara for Lal and Thann
to track him. A pleasant thrill crawled up his
spine and lodged at the back of his skull,
under a whorl of hair that seemed to fas-
cinate the Vulcan, judging from the time he
. had spent playingwith it.
The office door chimed. "Come," he told
it.
The door slid open to reveal Gem. He
stared as the graceful figure flowed toward
him in her diaphanous clothing and reached
a hand toward his head, which suddenly
ached abominably. She touched him and the
pounding in his temples grew distant, muf-
 fled. He smiled gratefully up at her, just in
time to see her collapse into Lal's arms. The
Vian carried her away, their figures growing
tiny as they vanished into the dark. Thann
stood in front of him, black control box in his
right hand as he beckoned with the left.
"Come, then," he intoned. McCoy stood,
shaking, terrified that he would not be able
to walk, that if he couldn't walk, this melon-
headed demon would take Spock instead,
sleeping or no. Right in front of his eyes,
while he stood here paralyzed, he would
take Spock and... Against a tremendous
weight, he managed to turn his head to look
at his friends companionably sleeping their
drugged sleep over in the circle of light.
Strength returned to his limbs and he walked
resolutely to join the Viano
McCoy returned to reality to find Chris-
tine Chapel shaking him by the shoulder.
Matter-of-factly, she laid a hypospray on the
desk and handed him a soft cloth. He stared
at the cloth for a moment, at a loss until he
felt the dampness against his hot cheeks and
realized that he had been weeping with fear.
He wiped away the evidence, and picked tip
the hypos pray . Stokaline, plus a mild anti-
depressant. He nodded, and she took it from
his hands and injected him, rubbing the
shoulder to speed the medication on its way.
He thanked her quietly, rose and headed
back to the lab.
Once again, he had won, he reflected
gratefully. But how many more times could
he do it? And when at last he failed? What
then? For if he failed once, he would go on
failing, again and again. He was horribly
sure of it. What would he do then? Take
refuge in insanity? He would not be able to
live with that particular failure, he knew. Not
that.
He picked up a spongy blue-grey
sample of some kind of Bendakan mold and
forced himself to concentrate on preparing it
for the analyzer.
v mean if you particularly want to... you know,
Spock arrived at McCoy's quarters
punctually at 2200 that evening to find the
doctor lounging in sweats,the room dimmed
..
124
to twilight and something Terran and or-
chestral emanating from the sound system.
The room was pervaded with the scent of
Saurian brandy -- a somewhat less objec-
tionable odor than that of either Romulan ale
or bourbon, the doctor's other common
choices of beverage. By the level in the
room's atmosphere, Spock estimated that
McCoy was presently savoring his fourth
dose of the substance.
"Spock,"the doctor smiled over the edge
of his glass, blue eyes lighting up with
pleasure. "C'mon in." As soon as the door
had slid shut, Spock turned to activate its
privacy lock. When he faced around again,
McCoy was standing just twenty centimeters
away from him. "Shields up, lover," he
demanded softly. "Iwant a hug. Now."
Spock complied. As McCoy's head
dropped against his shoulder, Spock could
feel tension draining off the human's back in
sheets. They remained in a quiet embrace
nearly a minute before McCoy straightened
with a final squeeze on Spock's biceps.
"Thanks," he said, relief evident in the
smoothing lines around his eyes. "I needed
that." He motioned Spock to a chair. "Altair
water?"
Spock nodded. "Thank you."
McCoy procured Spock's drink, handed
it to him, and padded back to his own chair
and brandy.
"You had a difficult day?" Spock in-
quired.
"Oh, not too bad. I'm just really tired."
He grinned. "You been wearin' me out,
Spock. I just don't have the stamina to keep
up with a Vulcan, I guess." He took a long
swallow of his brandy. "I think I better turn
in early tonight." Another swallow. "And
alone," he added pointedly. "Unless you..."
He broke off uncomfortably, obviously suf-
fering from an ambiguity of emotional
drives.
"Unless?"
"Unless... well, unless you're feeling... I
mean, unless you really... Oh, hell, Spock, I
join me tonight, then, sure... it's just that I
really could use some serious shut-eye."
"In fact, there is a certain experiment I
would like to try tonight, Leonard."

I
McCoy felt a stirring in his groin, work-
I ing against his general fatigue, as his mind
started trying to picture what Spock might
have in mind. "Maybe tomorrow'd be a bet-
I ter idea, Spock," he prevaricated, trying to
think like his own physician. "I'm really
tired. Besides, I think you should go beat
I Kirk's pants off at chess tonight. He's gonna
think you don't love him anymore. Today he
was hinting around that something might be
I wrong with you 'cause you hadn't been
around in a while. I told him I'd check you
out."
"I will make an appointment with Jim
I for tomorrow evening. Tonight, I would like
to try my experiment."
"Spock..."
I "You did not sleep well after I left last
night," his guest stated.
McCoy blinked his surprise again.
I "I would surmise that you dreamed of
the Vians again."
McCoy nodded reluctantly.
"And how many times did you see them
I today?"
The doctor's mouth grew tight with ir-
ritable refusal, but then he shrugged and
I searched the ceiling in thought for some
time, counting on his fingers. "Four," he ad-
mitted at length. "About the same as yester-
I day."
Spock rose, stepped over to McCoy's
chair, and extended his right hand. "You
must sleep. Come to bed."
I McCoy resisted. "Spock... if I go to that
bed with you in it, it doesn't seem very likely
that I'm going to do much sleeping."
I "You will. Come."
"Yeah, I'm sure I'll come, I'm just not
sure..."
I Spock grasped his wrist and pulled him
bodily to the sleeping alcove. He drew back
the bedcovers, removed his boots, and lay
I down, pulling McCoy onto the bed as well.
Shivers of anticipation coursed through the
human, tangible through Spock's low-level
I shielding, but he suppressed his own body's
response and maneuvered McCoy like a doll
until they lay spoon-fashion, Spock envelop-
I ing his companion, his legs and arms pin-
ning McCoy in place. Then he pulled the
I . .
125
I
1
blankets back over them, and ordered the
room into darkness.
McCoy tried to turn to face his partner,
but was held firmly in position. He waited
for Spock to initiate things, to start petting
him or removing his clothing, but Spock did
neither. Instead, he said softly, his warm
breath washing over McCoy's ear, "Sleep. I
will wake you when La1and Thann appear,
before they can harm you. They will soon tire
of the attempt, and will go away."
"Spock...you're talking nonsense."
"Yes. In the language of your own sub-
conscious. I believe it will be quite effective.
Sleep."
"Spock, I want..."
"No."
"No?"
"You did tell me that I have the right to
say no."
"Well,yeah, but..."
"No. Sleep."
"C'mon Spock, how do you expect me to
sleep with you right here, with your arms
around me? This is makin' me horny as hell."
"I can correct that situation," Spock
replied, and placed his fingers lightly on
McCoy's face, in meld configuration.
The response was dramatic. "No, dam-
mit!" the human cried, twisting his head
away and struggling in earnest.
Abruptly, as if burned, Spock drew his
hand away from the doctor's face and this
time allowed' him to twist around to face
him.
McCoy was breathing hard and trem-
bling. "Don't do that. Don't ever do that," he
rasped.
"I apologize." Spock reached the offend-
ing arm to caress his partner's shoulder.
"Leonard, I would not attempt to force a
meld upon you, under any circumstances."
McCoy, growing ever more attuned to the
nuances of Spock's face and voice, detected a
hint of both disappointment and hurt in
those words. With a weary sigh, he turned
on his back and let his head rest comfortably
on Spock's shoulder, his arm dropping to
give the Vulcan an affectionate and
apologetic pat on the thigh. "Sorry, Spock.
Yeah, I know you wouldn't do that. I really
do know you wouldn't. I just... I don't know,

I panicked, that's all. Guess 01' Lal and
Thann are getting to me more than I
thought."
"That is precisely why I wished your
permission to establish a shallow mindlink,"
Spock replied evenly. "It would assist you in
falling asleep and would apprise me as soon
as a nightmare begins to form."
McCoy shook his head, swallowing
audibly. "No. Thanks, Spock, but no."
"There would be no invasion of memory.
I would require only a simple connection to
the subconscious..."
"No, Spock"
Spock knew from experience that there
was no persuading the doctor once his voice
had taken on that particular tonal quality.
"Very well," he conceded.
They lay comfortably together for some
time. Eventually, McCoy turned to Spock
again and kissed him impulsively, running a
hand up inside his shirt. Spock calmly
retrieved the hand and pinned it back to
McCoy's side.
"C'mon, Spock," McCoy complained.
"No. I do not wish to be aroused. I wish
to remain on guard."
"But..."
"No. Twice now, you have rendered me
unconscious while you allowed Lal and
Thann to take you away. You will not do so
tonight, Leonard."
"This is ridiculous."
"The only aspect of this that is ridiculous
is your continuing and remarkable resistance
to logic."
"What are you talking about?"
"It is illogical to prevent me from repay-
ing my debt to you. This time you will sleep
and I will watch for the Vians."
"For how long?"
"As long as it is necessary, of course."
"Spock.. are you saying we can't have
sex again until I get over this? Because that's
crazy. This could go on for weeks." Months,
his subconscious whispered. Years.
Spock pondered. "In that event," he said
slowly at last, "we will have to reconsider
our strategy. But there is no harm in trying
the experiment at least tonight. You do not
require sexual exercise three nights in a row."
"Says who? You're not a doctor."
..
126
II
"The ship's library..."
"Oh, no," McCoy groaned, "Now what I
have you been reading?"
It was time, Spock realized, for an ul-
timatum. Casually moving his right hand to
the juncture of the doctor's neck and
II
shoulder, he ordered, "Go to sleep, or I will
pinch you."
At that, McCoy laughed and sur-
I
rendered. "Okay, okay, anything but that!"
He really was tired. Obediently, he closed his
eyes. Spock's hand began making soothing
I-.
circles in his hair, well away from his link
points, and he let the circles carry him into
sleep. I
Five times that night, Spock woke him,
interrupting the Vians' laboratory tests. On
their sixth appearance, just as McCoy
finished telling them, "The choice has been
I
made," Lal glanced over at Spock, sitting
alert on the slab, then looked at Thann.
Thann gazed hungrily at McCoy, shifted his
I
eyes to Spock, and looked back at Lal. Then,
miraculously, just as Spock had predicted,
the two robed figures shrugged, pivoted, and I
walked away into the darkness. Wide-eyed
with astonishment and gratitude, McCoy
turned to stare at Spock Improbably, the
Vulcan winked at him.
I
I
Spock kept watch over his lover the next
night as well, awakening McCoy each time
the human's flickering eyelids indicated a
I
dream state. Eventually, however, when
Spock woke McCoy for the third time at
02:23, the doctor protested groggily, "Aw, .-
Spock... we were camping down on Cen-
taurus and... dammit, it was just getting
good. I had a zetil eating out of my hand. II
Right out of my hand... A blue-green one."
"Iapologize, Leonard."
McCoy nuzzled his shoulder. "Oh, it's .
okay. Maybe I can pick up where we left off
in a minute here... It's good luck if it sings in
your hand..." He gave a sigh as he grew more II
alert instead of retreating into sleep. "You
know, Spock, this really is a problem."
"Yes. It is inevitable that I will disrupt
pleasant dreams as well as nightmares. I am .-
sorry, but without a mind link in place, I can-
.
.-
I
not distinguish them in the early stages." The
I loss of a few dreams, however, did not seem
to him a significant disadvantage when
weighed against preventing the debilitating
I nightmares. And McCoy had reported a
reduction in daytime flashbacks as well,
quite probably the result of an increased
I quantity of restful sleep.
"Spock... you do know that humans hnve
to dream?"
I Spock turned to him and raised an
eyebrow. "Have to dream?" he repeated.
"Yeah. You can't keep stopping all my
dreams. It'll make me crazy. And I don't
I mean that metaphorically."
"That is a problem," Spock agreed.
Something else he had left out of an equa-
I tion. He wondered again if this intensified
human contact was interfering with his men-
tal processes. He had not known that fact,
but he should have researched this problem
I
well enough to discover it before implement-
ing a hypothetical solution.
"Yep. So... any solutions pop to mind?"
"If you would allow a link.."
"I thought we settled that one. Forget it."
"Then I do not know. How long can you
safely go without dreaming?"
"Varies. Several days to a week, I'd
guess."
"I would not expect you to be fully
healed within that time."
"No, probably not. Look, Spock, I need
to dream. I probably even need to dream
about the Vians. How about you just let me
dream unless it's a really bad one?"
"But I cannot recognize..."
{
"Nonsense," McCoy snorted. "You sure
recognized it the first time."
"You screamed," Spock pointed out.
t "Well, then I'll probably scream. Or kick.
One way or another, you'll know, all right."
"Not until the dream is well advanced."
t "That's okay, Spock," McCoy smiled,
propping himself up on an elbow to run his
thumb along Spock's eyebrow in the now-
( familiar gesture that indicated serious
entreaty, among other things. "That's when
I'll need you."
"Very well," Spock agreed reluctantly.
1 McCoy settled back down onto his pil-
low, one hand tucked under Spock's arm.
..
127
"Know something?" he asked sleepily, eyes
closed.
Spock refrained from commenting that
he knew many things, and waited patiently
for the human to answer his own question.
"You sure are one hell of a security
blanket."
Spock's left eyebrow went aloft and
stayed there as he tried to ascertain the con-
nection between Security, bedding material,
and the mythical human underworld, but
McCoy was asleep even before he could dis-
cover that he had won a round.
"So, Bones..." Kirk took another ap-
predative sip of the rich, red 2230 McCoy
had opened in celebration of a full working
day without a single hallucination. He
paused to enjoy its sweet, slow burn as it
moved over his tongue and down his throat
and burrowed into the corners of his body.
"That sounds like progress to me. But I'm
just a layman. Is it?"
McCoy was grinning happily. "I think
so, Jim. I think so."
"Good. That's good news." There was a
slight p~use .while another swig of brandy
was launched on its way. Kirk stood up and
began to toy casually with the few little
curios floating in magnetic fields in McCoy's
shelf space. "And how about Spock? Is he
okay, too?" - .
"Spock?Sure, he's all right. Why?"
"Well... I know you told me he was fine,
and you were right, he's been back to pretty
much the usual routine, but he still seems...
preoccupied. I'm winning too many chess
matches all of a sudden." Kirk replaced the
blue shell he'd been examining and began to
pace McCoy's quarters. "I'm not blind,
Bones; I've noticed he's spending a lot of
time with you. And the last two nights I was
looking for him and he wasn't anywhere to
be found, and I came by here and you had
your privacy lock engaged. So... are you
treating him for something? I know you can't
break confidentiality, but..." He halted.
"Bones, he's my friend; if something's up I
want to know."
 McCoy took refuge in his brandy for a
moment. It was going to have to come out
eventually. There was probably no time like
the present. "You're right, Jim, I have been
seeing a lot of Spock." McCoy gave a little
shrog. "Sitdown, Jim."
Kirk stayed put, clearly steeling himself
for bad news. "Go on."
McCoy grinned self-consciously. "Factis,
Jim, I've been seeing... all of Spock."
The little joke made absolutely no im-
pact on Kirk. "And?" he demanded.
"And?" McCoy echoed.
"And... how is he?" Kirk clarified.
McCoy stared at the captain. He had
never known Jim to be so obtuse, certainly
not about sex.
"Well?" Kirk queried again impatiently.
"Is he okay?"
"Okay?" McCoy blurted before he could
stifle it, "He's fantastic!"
As Kirk's look of relief at that answer
slowly changed to concern, McCoy realized
that he himself was blushing. Sheesh.
Kirk was looking at him oddly.
"McCoy... are you okay?"
"I'm... yeah, Jim, I'm okay."
"You don't look okay. You look like I
just turned into aVian."
McCoy snorted at that. "No. Believe me,
you'd know if you had."
''Then what's the matter with you?"
"Nothing. Jim, you don't understand...
Spock... Well, Spock's been seeing all of me,
too."
There was a short silence, and McCoy
breathed a sigh of relief. Well, it was out
now.
"You mean... mind meld?" Kirk asked.
"Is that why you two have been making
yourselves scarce? He's been treating you for
this trauma thing? With some kind of mind
meld?"
Jeezus. "Jim, please. Sit down and drink
that up."
Kirk ignored that suggestion.
McCoy sighed again. So much for sub-
tlety. Time to drag out the old sledgeham-
mer. "No, Jim, I don't mean mind meld. I
mean... body meld. You're right, Sherlock.
Spock's been spending his nights here, all
..
128
right. Or, more precisely," he jerked a thumb
toward his bed, "over there."
Kirk stared as the meaning got through.
"You mean... you and Spock.. are sleeping
together?"
McCoy grinned, fighting embarrass-
ment. "Well, to tell the truth, that's about the
only thing we're not doing together."
Kirk finally sat back down. "I don't un-
derstand."
"Turns out you can't sleep with a Vulcan
after... he climaxes. So no, we don't exactly
sleep together. If we make love, he goes back
to his own bed afterwards. If we don't, I
sleep and he... I don't know, composes Vul-
can haiku or works on multidimensional
spacetime equations or something."
There was a very long silence.
"Well," McCoy prodded at last. "Aren't
you going to say anything?"
"Idon't know what to say."
"How about' congratulations'?"
Kirk remained silent for some time
before he 'finally took another sip of brandy
and got out, "Congratulations." He gazed
thoughtfully at his friend. "McCoy, I've
know you for fifteen years. I've spent shore
leaves with you for five of those years. And I
never knew you were..." He shook his head
-
in disbelief.
McCoy's mouth quirked up into a grin.
"I wasn't. Jim, maybe I'd better start at the .
beginning..."
............... .
Spock was engaged in meditation prior
to his usual visit to McCoy's quarters when
his door unit bleeped despite the fact that he
had engaged his privacy lock. Alert for a
ship emergency, he quickly emerged from
his trance, deactivated the lock, and
responded, "Come."
Expecting the Captain or duty officer, he
was surprised to see McCoy step into his
room, not exactly inebriated but certainly ex-
uding a considerable fragrance of Saurian
brandy.
"Exactlywhat I had in mind, Spock," the
doctor said as he strode into the room.
Spock merely raised a puzzled eyebrow.
...J
 "Coming, I mean," McCoy grinned at
I him. "I think you've been baby-sitting me
just about enough for a while. Time for a
good roll in the hay, Buster." While Spock
I pondered that one, McCoy walked right up
to him and began running his fingers
through the Vulcan's thick, silky hair, count-
1 ing aloud. "One... two... three... four... five! I
win. It means,'fuck me,'" he explained. "Hay
is warm and soft and it smells nice. Kinda
prickly, though," he added as if remember-
1
ing, "and it sticks all over you." He kissed
Spock full on the lips. "Take me to bed.
Now.".
1 "Activate privacy," Spock managed to
order his door, before his mouth was sud-
denly full of McCoy. "Leonard..."
"Uh-uh," McCoy stopped him. 'We're
going over to that bed, and we're gonna
make love as long as we want to, and then
1 you're gonna go to sleep in your own bed in
this oven of yours, and I'll go back to mine."
He smiled at Spock and smoothed his raised
eyebrow. "I'll be in better shape to travel by
then than you will, I bet, and..."
"Leonard..." Spock tried again.
"No. I know what you're thinking, but
I'm a big boy, and I can handle them by
myself at least for one night. Anyway, the
way I feel right now," he pressed his groin
urgently into Spock's crotch, "nothing they
can do to me would be worse than not
making love with you." He grinned again. "I
know you think I'm lying to you. Go ahead
and check. Drop those shields a sec."
Spock did precisely that, his hands hold-
ing McCoy's face, and felt the sincerity of his
partner's words, the urgency of his desire,
the amazingly inflammatory tenderness
toward himseH. He deliberately left his
shields at a low level, allowing the emotions
to flow into him, enjoying them, allowing his
body to respond, enjoying the response.
McCoy was determined on this course of ac-
tion; it was only logical that they both enjoy
I it as much as possible. And it was abundant-
1 ly clear that his partner wished to be taken.
He let his hands slide down McCoy's arms to
his waist, and began slowly pressing the doc-
1
tor toward the sleeping alcove as he pulled
off his shirt and tossed it onto a chair. McCoy
laughed and cheerfully disposed of Spock's
..
129
shirt in the same way. 'We'll see if I can keep
'em straight," he commented.
Spock had him against the hard Vulcan
bed now and pressed him down to sit on it
and removed his boots. Sitting next to him,
he removed his own boots, and turned to
gaze with dilated eyes at the doctor's round,
lined face. For a moment, he thought that he
would be content simply to sit like this and
meditate upon his lover's face for hours, per-
haps days, perhaps his lifetime... But an-
ticipation was rolling off the doctor's human
skin now; Spock reached out to touch his
chest and the contact was electric and
violently stimulating. He pressed McCoy
down upon the bed, and quickly stripped off
the doctor's trousers, and then his own.
McCoy grabbed for his pants before
Spock could toss them across the room, and
retrieved a tube from his pocket. "A Scout is
always prepared," he said, offering it to
Spock. One...two...
"You were never a Scout," Spock ob-
jected, decoding the reference with no dif-
ficulty, "neither as a Terran adolescent, nor as
a Starfleet officer. Nor," he added, "as a small
two-man vessel with modest warp
capabilities. "
"Oh, yeah?" McCoy retorted happily,
"We'll see about that." He grabbed Spock's
hand and placed it firmly against his already
weeping cock. "Here's the control bar. Fly
me, Commander."
..........
"This is damned undignified, Spock,"
McCoy protested a short while later, his legs
folded around the Vulcan's shoulders as
Spock rocked slowly into him, pressing his
-
thighs down toward his chest and his ass
conveniently up -- with every exquisite
thrust.
"Indeed," came the predictable reply,
"but it does have certain redeeming qualities.
For instance, it enables... this." Spock reached
around McCoy's legs to hold the doctor's
face while he kissed him thoroughly, the ac-
tion of their mouths echoing that down
below. "I find it eminently... satisfactory," he
continued, when he pulled away for air.
Spock was, in fact, finding this the most suc-
 cessful of their experiments thus far. The
deep penetration was highly pleasurable.
More than that, however, he enjoyed being
able tc watch McCoy's face as the doctor's
sexual excitement mounted, to observe as
well as feel his partner's joy in him. "How-
ever, if your dignity will not tolerate this
configuration," he went on hoarsely, grunt-
ing as he once again drove himself deep into
his lover, "I will stop."
"Over my dead body, you'll stop,"
McCoy retorted, shuddering. as a wave of
pleasure took him. He grabbed at Spock's
hair, pulled him down to plant hungry kisses
all over his face. "Oh, god, faster dammit."
Spock complied, speeding up the
rhythm slightly, enjoying the way it made
McCoy throw his head back and writhe. It
pleased him that McCoy was being more
assertive this evening, both because it indi-
cated that the doctor was healing, and also
because it was... exciting. Illogically, since it
was clearly improbable, he wished that
McCoy would reconsider and allow their
minds to merge so that he could feel exactly
what his partner was feelfug.
"Wait!" McCoy cried out underneath
him, and Spock halted, surprised, his penis
only centimeters into his lover, poised for
another deep thrust. It was entirely unlike
the doctor to ask for respite; thus far in their
sexual activities, McCoy had been much
more inclined to urge him to more rapid or
stronger activity. He watched the doctor's
face carefully. Perhaps this position was un-
comfortable for a prolonged encounter.
McCoy's chest heaved; his eyes were
closed, and his adam's apple jerked twice as
he swallowed. These could all be signs of
anxiety, Spock knew, but they were also nor-
mal accompaniments to their lovemaking.
"Are you all right, Leonard?" he queried.
"Shall I disengage? Would you prefer
another position?"
McCoy opened his eyes and smiled
broadly. "Yes, hell no, and no," he replied.
His tongue flicked over his lips in a man-
nerism Spock knew did indicate anxiety,
then he reached up to take Spock's right
hand from where it was twining in his hair.
For a minute, he stroked the palm softly with
his thumb,. then parted the fingers and
..
130
- -
placed them roughly into meld configuration
on his face. He gazed into Spock's dark eyes
with a mixture of determination and ap-
prehension. "Goahead, Spock," he said quiet-
ly. "Do it."
Spock blinked. A craving for mind
fusion, brought on with his own sexual
arousal, warred with concern. Why the sud-
den change of heart in his companion? An
inner voice whispered to him to do as he was
bid... as soon as the meld was completed,
after all, he would have the answer to that
question. But something seemed wrong... He
slid carefully back into his lover, who
groaned with pleasure, twisted his fingers in
Spock's hair, tried to widen his legs to wel-
come him. Spock's mind hungered for
similar union, similar welcome. "Leonard,"
he said cautiously. He had to be very clear
about this; miscommunication on this point,
he knew, could be disastrous. "Are you as-
king me to perform a mind meld with you?"
McCoy smiled grimly and nodded.
"Yeah. Go ahead." Then he quickly went on,
"But... Um, what kind of a meld'll this be? I
mean... how deep... I mean... Hell, I don't
know what I mean..."
Spock lifted his hand from McCoy's face
and stroked his hair. "As limited or as exten-
sive as we choose," he replied. "At a first at- -
tempt, I would recommend limiting the
connection to present thought and sensation.
There is no need to include the memory
banks." That would be less satisfying, but
also a great deal less threatening to McCoy,
whose relief at that explanation was tangible.
"Okay," McCoy said, closing his eyes
again. "Go on."
His gruff playfulness gone, the human
lay still, anxious, very like a sacrifidal victim,
and Spock did not like being cast in the role
of a knife-bearing high priest. On the other
hand, once the meld was initiated, he was
certain, McCoy would see that his fears had
been unfounded; the experience would be
pleasurable, exciting and fulfilling. He
shifted his hand back onto McCoy's link
points.
"Are you certain?" he asked once more.
"Yeah," McCoy said again, stoically but
not very successfully trying not to flinch.
---
I
I Spock pressed firmly on McCoy's link
points, and began reciting the ritualistic
words to induce a hypnotic state in which
the meld could be formed. "My mind to your
I mind; my thoughts to your thoughts..." His
mind slid eagerly, joyfully out of its solitude,
dancing to join with Leonard, to show him
I this new dimension he could not have im-
agined before...
Spock's vision blurred and his senses
I numbed briefly while his neurons adjusted
to dual lines of input. The physical connec-
tions settled down first; within moments, the
world began to take on shape and texture
I again. He could see Leonard, and simul-
taneously see himself just as Leonard saw
him. He could feel every point of contact
I from both sides. He gave a contented sigh.
Leonard, ever the sensualist, was going to
enjoy this, especially the amplified dual or-
gasm. He would allow themselves a few mo-
ments to anticipate the pleasure before he
began moving in his partner again. He
turned his attention to Leonard's mental
state. The adjustment to instant thought-
communication might be quite unnerving.
He could feel McCoy's exhilaration in
the discovery and enjoyment of the strong,
focused Vulcan emotions now surging
directly within him, and his astonished
I delight at the sensation of full control of that
power. Exultation echoed through their
joined minds. With human-heightened ex-
citement and sure knowledge now of exactly
what his partner wished, Spock resumed
their love-making, thrusting into McCoy's
body even as his mind anchored itself within
McCoy's and deepened the connection. He
did so carefully, gently, aware of his
partner's skittishness, keeping his word by
giving a wide berth to the memory links
despite his own craving for that joining as
well.
McCoy sensed that craving, and they
held an instantaneous discussion, McCoy ur-
ging him to go ahead and take what he
wished, Spock resisting, arguing patience,
there would be more nights together, they
need not move into deeper levels of mind
fusion until McCoy was entirely comfortable.
McCoy surrendered gratefully to that logic,
and concentrated on the strange and
.-
131
wonderful dual sensations flooding him, the
extraordinary Vulcan awareness of his physi-
cal body, his sharpened senses, a remarkable
sense of centered well-being. As their bodies
heaved close to orgasm, Spock reinforced the
links to ensure that they would hold through
the impending violent flood of physical and
emotional release.
It was then, in carefully avoiding a
memory access point, that Spock's attention
was drawn to the site. Something about it
disturbed him, and he reached closer to it.
Immediately, anxiety began emanating from
McCoy, reverberating around them, and the
doctor's mind recoiled, attempting to
withdraw, to push him away. There was a
terrible dissonance between mind and body,
messages of ecstasy pouring in from their
skins while fear churned up at him from
within the mind itself. Spock wired as-
surance to his partner, asked for explanation,
received none. He sent delicate tendrils to ex-
plore the oddly distorted links. Raw edges
met him, curled away from him, cried out at
the contact. Spock was stunned, and it was
several moments before he understood what
was wrong. He immediately dismantled the
mindlink.
Back in.his solitary body, Spock found
his arousal vaporized as he considered what
he had found, and he slipped out of McCoy's
body, eased the doctor's legs to the bed, and
lay alongside him, unconsciously taking up a
protective embrace as he had done on their
first night together. McCoy blinked at him,
disoriented.
Spock was tracing McCoy's round
eyebrows, kissing his forehead, a feeling of
fierce protectiveness welling up in him. He
struggled for control, and gained some.
"Who did this to you?" he demanded.
"Huh?"
"You have been the victim of a forced
meld. Who did this to you?" he repeated.
"Spock,calm down."
"I do not wish to calm down."
"Spock..." McCoy gazed earnestly into
Spock's eyes, seeking something, "Good God,
Spock, what am I doing to you?"
That was unexpected, but he refused to
be distracted. "Who did this to you?" he in-
sisted.
 "What does it matter, Spock?"
"The invasion of an unwilling mind is an
unpardonable crime. A Vulcan who would
do such a thing is highly dangerous and
must be apprehended."
"Well, you're not going to apprehend
this one."
"We must."
"No, Spock. It was a long time ago. And
in another universe."
"Another universe..." Spock searched his
face. "My...alternate."
McCoy conceded the point with a reluc-
tant nod. "And I don't know about you," he
added, rubbing Spock's shoulder affec-
tionately, ''but I'm not about to go after him.
One afternoon on the I.S.S. Enterprisewas
enough for me."
There was a short silence while Spock
regained full control. ''This should have been
tended to immediately by a qualified healer.
Why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't know...," McCoy began, then
reluctantly corrected himself, 'Well, yeah, I
do. Spock, nobody likes to talk about rape. I
just wanted to forget it ever happened."
"You must see a healer as soon as pos-
sible."
"Gh, no. No, sir. I don't want anybody
poking around in my head, Spock. Um,
present company excepted, I mean."
"I do not have the skill to repair this."
McCoy sighed. "Look, Spock, the thing
is nearly a year old. Isn't it scarred over or
something? Most things heal up if you don't
go pickin' at ' em."
After a short silence Spock simply
repeated, "You must see a healer." It was al-
most a plea, and Spock's face was full of
agitated frustration.
The emotional display made McCoy un-
easy. He ran a hand up and down Spock's
spine and searched into the dark eyes for a
moment. He saw Spock return to his logic
and begin marshalling his arguments.
"Okay," he said, before the lecture could
begin.
Spock's surprise was clear. "You agree?"
he asked tentatively.
"Yeah. I think you know what you're
talking about. And unlike some Starfleet of-
. .
132
ficers I could name, I know enough to follow
reasonable medical advice. I'll see a healer."
"When?"Spock asked suspiciously.
McCoy grinned. "I'll start working on it
first thing in the morning," he promised. "I'll
find out where the nearest qualified prac-
titioner is, and I'll start the paperwork for
leave. Will that do?"
Spock nodded solemnly.
"Two conditions, though," McCoy went
on.
Spock merely raised an eyebrow in in-
quiry.
"Come with me when I go."
"Ofcourse, Leonard."
"And... come with me now. For crying
out loud, Spock... I mean, I suppose I should
have known making love with a Vulcan
would be a frustrating proposition, but all
this starting and stopping is ridiculous." He
grasped Spock's hand and once again placed
it upon his half-engorged cock, giving it a
push for good measure. "Now this time,
Commander," he admonished, "you con-
centrate and finish what you started, you
hear me? I want synchronous orbit, and I
want it now."
Spock actually smiled. "Of course,
Leonard." He captured McCoy's hands in his
own and pressed them onto the bed.
"Proceeding with sensor check," he an-
nounced, and kissed McCoy's eyes, and then
his ears. "Sensors functional and engaged,"
he reported.
McCoy couldn't believe it. His eminent-
ly logical, rational Vulcan was actually play-
ing pretend with him.
"Communications check," Spock mur-
mured, and dove into his mouth. When he
released him, McCoy gasped for breath, suc-
cumbing to a fit of giggles. The laughter gave -
way to a delicious shock as Spock intoned,
"Charging phaser banks," reached for the
lubricant and begin stroking both McCoy
and himself back to full arousal.
"Charge complete; engaging thrusters,"
Spock went on, maneuvering McCoy's legs
back up over his shoulders and positioning
his penis again. "Ready for impulse on your
command." He waited, motionless.
"Impulse, for chrissakes," McCoy
gasped, his sides aching. "Impulse!"
.,I
 I
I "Proceeding on impulse," the first officer
reported quietly as he began to press into
McCoy once more.
Dissolving in laughter and joy and lust,
I McCoy reached for Spock's ass to assist in
the acceleration to warp speed.
I ..........
Later that night, after he had tidied up
I his spent lover and tucked him in for the
night, McCoy settled comfortably into the
armchair in his own quarters. With the lights
I at half-moon, a recording of Vulcan
lytherette sonatas he had filched from
Spock's collection wafting gently over his
ears, and a shotglass full of nicely aged bour-
bon in his hand, he marvelled over the
evening's events. He could not remember
when he had last laughed so much, when he
I had last abandoned himself so thoroughly to
silliness. How odd and wonderful to do so
with Spock.
He was healing at last. By the contented
well-being flooding his body, mind and
heart, he knew that very soon he would be
leaving the laboratory on Minara behind him
for good - if he had not already. Before too
long they would find a Vulcan healer some-
where around the sector, and then the rem-
f nant ache in his brain, which he had been
attributing to tension headaches for the last
year, would be lifted from him as well.
McCoy was quite certain now that the
healer, when they found one, would also
confirm his own suspicions about Spock -
that their recent burst of intense sexual ac-
tivity had reset Spock's hormonal clock back
to the early stages of his aborted pan farr.
Spock would need to bond, and soon.
McCoy would propose himself for Spock's
bondmate, the prospect of an intimate men-
tal link no longer so frightening after this
evening's taste, and Spock, logical and
loving, would accept him. The healer would
no doubt also be able to advise him on deal-
I ing with his lover in pan farr. They would
take some leave - he'd make it emergency
medical leave if he had to - and together
they would get through it.
He grinned to himself. Pan farr. Those
words had always had a sinister sound for
. .
133
him because of all the secrecy and ritual hoo-
hab with which the Vulcans fenced it in. It
conjured up an image of violent, uncon-
trolled, dangerous and painful sex. Some-
thing to be endured, gotten through. But
now he wondered. If tonight was any indica-
tion... Could it be that the.real reason no Vul-
can would talk about panfarr was that they
just got so downright silly in heat that their
dignity couldn't admit to it in more sober
times? Well, if all went well, he'd find out
soon enough. At any rate, loneliness was at
an end for him. For them. The details -
housekeeping arrangements and whether
they would display their relationship public-
ly -- were simply unimportant and would
take care of themselves. All was well with his
universe. He downed the remains of his
bourbon, feeling the smooth fire flow
through his system, rose, and put himself to
bed.
When La1 and Thann arrived in the
small hours of the night, beckoning him to
come with them, he stood up with no fear
whatsoever and simply thumbed his nose at
them. They threatened him with that little
black device of theirs, but it malfunctioned,
springs and wires popping out of it from all
sides, bits and pieces falling to the floor and
rolling gaily away into the black cavern. He
laughed at his tormentors, turned on his heel
and strode firmly back to his sleeping
friends. He touched Jim's shoulder and the
hazel eyes opened, smiling welcome and
gratitude at him. Then, in front of Jim and
the Vians and God and everybody, he knelt
beside Spock, and woke him with a lover's
kiss. Looking back across the room, he saw
the Vians still standing there at a loss, puz-
zling over their stupid machine. La1gave the
device a little shake and looked up at Thann;
Thann tipped his head sadly to one side. Lal
dropped the disintegrating gizmo onto the
floor, and the two of them turned as one and
walked away.
McCoy felt his soul fill and swell with
satisfaction. He walked over and picked up
the remains of the machine. As his friends
joined him at the edge of the light, he drop-
kicked the damn thing into infinity.