Ruth had gone from pacing in Sickbay to – after McCoy barked at her for the hundredth time to let him think in peace - pacing in her quarters. She knew McCoy was going to try and find a medical answer to stop the hormonal overload in Jilla’s system, but Ruth had a more practical and more immediate solution in mind. She’d thought of simply using her empathy to take the build-up herself, but soon realized that she’d only be compounding the problem. Her body liked being aroused and so wouldn’t heal it, thinking there was nothing to heal. And she didn’t really think Jim Kirk would want the chaos of an eternally horny Antari on his ship. So the only real question was how to do it. She already knew it wouldn’t be easy. It might, in fact, prove to be the most difficult con job she’d ever pulled.
But it’s for a damned good cause.
He’s not gonna see it that way.
But he will see the logic in it. He’s the only hope of saving her life.
He’ll suggest we take her to Vulcan.
Yeah, right, like they’re gonna help after throwing her off the planet. Besides, he’s not married, not even ‘more than a betrothal, less than a marriage’ with Miss Colder-Than-A-Glacier, whatever her name was, if what Bones told me is accurate. So he’s really got no reason to say no.
But when it comes to sex, I bet he finds one.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a streak of red and silver that threw itself on the bed and became Jilla. Ruth crossed to her quickly and opened her mouth to speak, then shut it as she saw the horrified, pain-filled grey eyes. She sat on the edge of the bed and waited until Jilla’s features took on some of their semblance of normal control before speaking. Then she made sure her voice carried nothing but quiet concern.
“What happened?” she asked.
Jilla took a deep breath, sitting up. “I – “ she began, then swallowed, her gaze lowering. “I went to – speak to – Commander Spock…”
Ruth groaned. “Oy gevalt.”
“Only to explain,” Jilla continued swiftly, “only to apologize…” Her tone was one of panic, making it clear that something other than what she had intended had occurred.
“It’s not your fault, Jilla,” Ruth said. “Pon farr is uncontrollable…”
Jilla’s eyes grew wide with horror
“It’s okay,” Ruth soothed quickly, then shrugged. “I did a little research. Bones found out and…”
"It was supposed to be undetectable…” Jilla whispered, then looked up at Ruth. “Selar told me…”
“Selar didn’t count on you being examined by a doctor who’d had to isolate it from non-Vulcan factors before,” Ruth returned dryly. “Spock is half Human.” She straightened. “The point is, we’re both working on it and we’ll find some way to help you.”
Jilla shuddered. “And if I do not want to be helped, Ruth?”
Ruth frowned. “We’ll see about that.”
She stood outside the First Officer’s quarters. She had sounded the door chime, but had received no answer. She pressed the button again, and a voice that sounded strangely weary said, “Come.”
She stepped inside. Spock sat on his bed, his fingers steepled. He didn’t look up. “What is it, Miss Valley?” he asked hoarsely.
“I think you know, Mr. Spock.” He glanced at her, his eyebrow rising. “Jilla Majiir,” Ruth continued. “Her – ah – condition? And what can be done about it.”
He looked away. “I cannot help her,” he said, and his voice was toneless.
“Her husband is dead,” Ruth went on, “but she isn’t a telepath, and another Vulcan might save her life. The Captain would undoubtedly agree to the long detour if no other alternative could be found, but it might be difficult to get Vulcan’s aid since they kicked her off the planet. And a candidate could be equally hard to find since she has no inheritance. It’s hardly logical to dismiss the obvious solution.” She took a few steps forward to stand next to the bed. When Spock made no reply, she said, “You’re the only Vulcan on board, Commander.”
Spock got up and crossed the room in front of her. “I can do nothing for her,” he insisted.
“Bullshit.”
He turned, staring at her. “Ensign, I cannot believe you are unaware of the nature of the Vulcan biological…”
“Mr. Spock, I cannot believe you are unaware of the seriousness of the situation!” Ruth snapped. “Jilla will die!” Again she stepped closer to him. “Besides any moral consideration, you have a duty to this ship’s personnel.”
“Any one life is expendable, Ensign.”
“Not if there’s a possibility of saving it without endangering either the ship or the rest of the crew,” Ruth shot back.
Spock’s eyes met hers. “It was last evening, was it not, that you suggested I leave Ensign Majiir alone?” he reminded. “Your exact words were, I believe, ‘lay off’,”
“That was before I knew what was going on,” she returned.
Spock stared at the determined violet eyes for a long moment, then abruptly walked away from her. “You do not understand what you are asking,” he said.
She followed him. “Oh yes I do, and I know it’s an uncomfortable subject for Vulcans, but it is…”
“It is impossible, Miss Valley.”
“Why?”
He sighed. “There are many factors which make…”
She made an equally exasperated sound. “Mr. Spock,” she said firmly, “I’ve been doing a little research, remember? Biological research.” She paused significantly.
“On Mrs. Majiir, yes…” Spock began.
“Oh, don’t be so naïve,” Ruth broke in. “Her husband was Vulcan.” She took a breath, continuing. "The act of sexual intercourse, although infrequent, is not – I repeat, not impossible for a Vulcan male in good physical condition who is not in pon farr.” She politely waited for him to wince. “And you know it as well as I do.”
Again, Spock moved away from her. “Ensign, it is not simply a matter of one such act. The need is far greater. It is a thing no outworlder can know fully.”
She was right behind him. “All right, I accept that. Why can’t you at least try? If it doesn’t work…”
Spock whirled around so suddenly that Ruth actually had to back up a step. “Even assuming I consented, what of Ensign Majiir?” he demanded. “She is Selar’s wife. According to her own customs and laws she cannot accept another. Whatever else occurs, she is still bound to him and she will not, of her own free will, break that bond.”
“I know that,” Ruth stated calmly. “You’d have to seduce her.”
The silence was a roar of disconcerted indignity and disbelief.
“I will not induce another to act against her laws and customs,” Spock declared with tight control. Ruth lost her patience.
“Not even to save her life?” she demanded.
Spock looked at her, his eyes darkly anguished. “I cannot do what you ask of me.”
“Spock…”
“An aroused female may arouse me.”
“That is the general idea!”
“To pon farr!” His quiet rasp was a scream of agony and Ruth blinked. “To pon farr, Ensign,” he repeated, turning away, his voice a tortured whisper. “Now do you see why it is impossible?”
It took Ruth several seconds to reorganize her thoughts. Spock’s open display of emotion had jumbled them nicely. To see him in such pain, so haunted, so helpless… She brushed the feelings aside. She still had to find a way to convince him, for Jilla’s sake.
“Mr. Spock,” she began, as carefully and delicately as she could, “although I realize it would be an awkward and potentially discomforting situation, isn’t it worth the life of…”
“The Time is of mating,” Spock interrupted from between clenched teeth. “Ensign Majiir is already wed. I cannot be husband to another man’s wife.”
“You mean will not,” Ruth muttered.
“I mean cannot,” Spock countered almost fiercely. “The ceremony will not be allowed, as you yourself pointed out.”
“Is the ceremony necessary?”
The look on Spock’s face made it clear that such a radical thought had never occurred to him. Ruth sighed.
“Your race has shrouded this thing in so much custom and ritual you’ve forgotten what it really is,” she explained. “A hormonal change, a biological necessity that has nothing to do with permanent pair-bonding.” It was Spock’s turn to blink. “Jilla needs sex, not a wedding!” Ruth said bluntly. Spock’s ears flushed deep green. Ruth grit her teeth, and continued. “I know all about her vows, Mr. Spock. I think they’re ridiculous, but that’s beside the point. The important thing is that they’re as much a construct as your ceremony. She won’t come to physical harm if she breaks them because she’s not living among people who would condemn her for it. Her sensitivity won’t pick up any damnation, so she won’t die from the shame.” She paused, “But she will die if her needs are ignored. Her husband was Vulcan. The memories of him, physically, can and do arouse her. You’re Vulcan, your physiology can and does arouse her, by her own admission. The Time will form a bond between you, that’s true, but you're not betrothed anymore and, as I’ve said about a thousand times now, her husband is dead. Spock…” Her eyes looked directly into him, pleading, persuasive. “You have to try!”
She watched as the inescapable logic caught him. It was fascinating to see the quick flow of thoughts behind his eyes, and she realized that she had just talked him into something that could make it impossible for her to ever get to know that strong and beautiful process. Is it worth Jilla’s life?
Yes.
“I must… think,” he said slowly. “If it is truly the only way…”
Without another word, Ruth turned and left the cabin.
Jilla sat uncomfortably with Dr. McCoy in the mess hall. He had insisted she come to Sickbay to discuss her condition, and had been quite blunt and quite accurate in his assessment of it. She had confessed the truth to him, and he had attempted awkward reassurance. As it was plain such reassurance was, at best, premature, he ceased, but made it clear that he would be keeping a very close eye on her. So he sat with her in the mess hall.
There was a plate of food before her – McCoy had insisted – but she was not eating. The doctor was attempting to engage her in conversation that did not center around her medical profile, and she was grateful for the small comfort.
“Scotty tells me you’re quite the engineer,” McCoy said heartily. “Coming from him, that’s some compliment.”
“I learned much from my father, Doctor,” Jilla returned quietly.
“Yes, Ambassador Costain,” McCoy replied. “I met him once. A fine man.”
He was interrupted as Lieutenant Sulu approached the table. The handsome Asian’s tia was of boundless energy and easy sensuality – but there was always a touch of tension, of hunger about him. He was very compelling and that fact made Jilla very uneasy.
“We missed you the other day,” Sulu said, referring to Monique’s offer of swimming. Jilla flushed. “How about coming to the rec chamber? We’re going skiing.” He gestured to Uhura, Kyle, Monique and Chekov.
“I have never skiied, Lieutenant,” Jilla politely declined.
“That’s all right, neither has Uhura.” Sulu grinned at her. “Will you come?
“I think not.”
“You’ll make it an even number.”
“I fail to see why an ‘even number’ is necessary,” Jilla continued, her voice taking on an edge. She noted McCoy trying to warn Sulu off and it irritated her.
“Well, it’s not,” Sulu admitted, “but it does make the whole thing that much nicer.” He gave his best, most charming smile.
“No, thank you, Lieutenant,” Jilla said. Her body was tingling in a way she didn’t like. She couldn’t understand why Sulu was still asking. Didn’t he understand that she had said no?
“I’d be happy to teach you, and I’ll make sure you don’t get hurt.”
“I don’t think the little lady is interested,” McCoy tried.
Jilla glared at him. Did he think she was an child, unable to speak for herself? “Mr. Sulu, I…" she began again.
“If you really don’t want to ski, there’s a lodge fireplace,” Sulu went on. “It is a nice place to just sit and talk and get to know…:”
Suddenly, Jilla stood, angrily upending the plate of food onto Sulu’s chest. She began to stride out of the room and Paul Carter moved too slowly to get out of her way. He received his own cup of coffee on his arm for his trouble.
“What did I do?” Sulu asked, his uniform dripping with stewed vegetables.
“What’s with her?” Paul added, shaking his slightly scalded arm.
“She’s not well,” McCoy answered. He got up and went after her, but not before an alert security man informed the Bridge.
It had proven impossible for Spock to properly consider Ruth’s suggestion while in his quarters. There were too many reminders of Vulcan, of its ancient past and the fires that drove it. Under normal circumstances, this was more than proper; a Vulcan must not forget what could have been, indeed, what still could be without the Way of Surak. But as he had to contemplate evoking just those fires…
He recognized the effect Mrs. Majiir's hormonal imbalance was having on him. His thoughts were confused and disordered. He needed a focus, an aid to meditation.
He went to the Science Station on the Bridge. Ruth had found some errors in her beta-test of the new diagnostic program. Perhaps the intricacies and complexities of recoding would clear his emotions and allow for a logical decision to be made.
He loaded the stack-trace routine and while waiting for it to begin it processes, reread the reports on the anomalous warp traces. There was something familiar about them, though when he had checked them against the obvious possibility – the warp signature of the Seeder ship – there was no correlation. That possibility was the reason the Enterprise had been asked to make discrete observations in this sector. And simply because the traces do not match that particular ship is not sufficient reason to dismiss the idea, he mused. The Seeders were the basis for all sentient life in the explored portion of the Milky Way galaxy, and perhaps in its entirety. That such an ancient, vast race should only use one type of ship was hardly plausible.
With that in mind, Spock loaded all the reports of the warp traces and the Seeder ship signature and began to run a comparison of the differences between those factors and the kind and amount of differences in warp signatures of all the various kinds of ships, first in Starfleet, then broadening the comparison to all Federation ships, then to all ships known. If there were some similarities between the anomalies and the Seeder ship that were comparable in scope to the similarities between different known ships, it would be strong indication that the warp traces were indeed connected to the Seeders.
The problem was a great aid to clearing his mind. Unfortunately, it also cleared it of the fact that he had loaded the still-not-fully-tested diagnostic.
“Ensign Majiir?” Kirk said into the com. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir,” came the disembodied voice. “Dr. McCoy followed her out and said she was sick. I though you’d want to know, sir.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Kirk out.” He turned to Spock. “Any ideas?”
“Concerning what, Captain?” Spock asked, apparently distracted by the work he had come on the Bridge to do.
“Ensign Majiir’s sudden change in behavior. That scene in the rec room, and now this… It’s definitely not like her.”
Spock was silent far longer than Kirk thought usual. “Perhaps her Indiian nature emerging,” he said at last, though he seemed uneasy.
“Perhaps,” Kirk mused thoughtfully, “but Bones kept insisting there was something wrong with her. If it was just that, he’d be delighted.” He switched on the com. “Kirk to McCoy.”
It was a few seconds before McCoy’s voice said, “What is it, Jim?”
“Ensign Majiir…”
“I know, I’m workin’ on it!” McCoy snapped.
“I’m not checking up on you Bones,” Kirk explained. “I got a report from…”
“Then let me work. McCoy out.”
Kirk broke contact and looked up. “Spock…” he began, then glanced around. Spock was no longer on the Bridge. He sighed. He had a feeling something was going on that he didn’t know about, and just maybe didn’t want to.
Jilla fled to her cabin, her heart pounding. Control was rapidly failing her; soon it would be beyond her altogether. Then what would she do? How could she stop her reactions? What would they be if she let them loose? She had thought that it was Spock, Vulcan that filled her with fierce desire, because of Selar. But what if that was wrong? What if it was simply desire itself that would take her? She knew that it was fighting the arousal that had caused her to lash out at Sulu, and her desperate need to run from it. Hopeless despair claimed her and she curled up on her bed, weeping softly.
“Ensign Majiir.”
With a start, Jilla looked up. Spock stood just inside the door. If he had used the door chime, she hadn’t heard it. She quickly sat up, pulling her control around her like a shroud. “Yes, Commander? Forgive me, I did not hear…”
“I did not signal,” Spock replied. “Pardon the intrusion, but I believe there is something of urgency you and I need to discuss.” He stepped forward and the door hissed softly shut behind him. “My earlier – reaction – toward you was inexcusable,” he continued. “It is the duty of a ship’s executive officer to attempt to solve problems, not compound them.”
Jilla’s blood was racing through her veins and she couldn’t look at him.
“There is a – disturbance – within you that only I am capable of dealing with,” he said. “I suggest we begin doing so.”
Jilla took a ragged breath. Why are you doing this? she thought miserably You cannot wish a repetition of the thing that almost occurred in your quarters. You know, beyond any doubt, what your presence does to me. You have to know my control is becoming increasingly difficult. Why, why do you torment me?
“Your marriage vows were taken before you took up residence on Vulcan, were they not?” Spock asked.
“Yes,” Jilla managed.
“Before Selar found it necessary to alter your genetic structure?”
She nodded mutely.
“Is a member of any other race expected to adhere to Indi’s strict marital arrangement?”
Jilla looked up at him. “Sir?”
“Would, for example, an Antari be disgraced if Indiian custom was not rigidly followed after the death of his or her Indiian spouse?” Spock’s voice was tight, but unemotional. Jilla shuddered.
“It – it would be disapproved of, but understood,” she replied. “The traditions of the Antari are well known to be incompatible with…”
“Yet an Antari/Indiian marriage would be permitted?”
“If both wished it,” Jilla stammered. She did not understand the rapid-fire questioning, and Spock’s nearness clouded her thoughts.
“It is, then, permissible for the outworld member of an Indiian/alien marriage to, upon the Indiian’s death, disregard the finality of the vows?”
“To disregard… it would be impossible for Indi to force its judgment on another race, but… in a marriage, one vows….” Her voice trailed off as she stared at him, the strong desire making it impossible for her to hold her concentration.
“The Indiian half of your marriage no longer exists,” Spock said. His eyes gazed at her, sudden warmth filling them as his tone softened. There was only the slightest hint of dread and hesitancy marring their beauty…
No! Jilla pulled sharply away. Think of Selar, your vows…
“The Time is violent, Jilla, and inexorable. I did not foresee it as a consequence of the other genetic alterations which have enabled you to fully adjust to Vulcan life. It is irreversible. The cycle will continue, no matter what else occurs. I am sorry, my wife. I did not intend this.”“Be still, my husband, for I accept it gladly. I would be Vulcan.”
“You are no longer Indiian, Jilla,” Spock murmured. His use of her first name heightened her arousal, for it was an intimate thing. “Selar attempted to make you Vulcan. In this respect, he succeeded.”
Selar !
“It cannot be ignored. To attempt to do so is fatal.”
Jilla began trembling, and it was not with fear.
“What he did releases you, by your own customs, from the finality of your vows. He understood what The Time would do to you.”
Jilla rose from the bed, drawn to the soft voice, the strong patience, the scent of copper and spice.
“Jilla, you must allow me to save the life your husband gave to you. You must allow me to take your need, to give you what The Time demands.”
She took faltering steps toward him, her vision silvering, her skin beginning to glow with heat and hunger.
“I can fill you,” he whispered, and his quiet tone took on the power and command of ancient Vulcan. “Kah if farr, Jilla.”
The control that was strained to the breaking point snapped as the animal responded to the call of mating. Jilla rushed to him, pressing herself against him in eager submission.
“My quarters,” he said hoarsely. There was no sentience left for her to beg Selar for forgiveness.
“Sir, I’m picking up something on long range scanners,” Ruth said. She was manning the Science Station in Spock’s absence. She had a sneaking suspicion where he was, but he wasn’t on duty and she wasn’t about to divulge that information unless somebody asked. And even then, only if absolutely necessary. At least not for several hours.
“What is it, Ensign?” Kirk asked.
“I can’t tell, it’s too far away, but it’s moving. I calculate about the equivalent of warp fifteen.”
“I’ve got it, too, sir,” Lieutenant Kelly said from the helmsman’s station. "Equivalent warp fifteen confirmed.”
The turbolift door opened and Monique DuBois, Sulu and Uhura came onto the Bridge. Uhura was limping noticeably.
“Are you all right, Lieutenant?” Kirk asked her.
“Yes, sir,” Uhura replied, relieving Ensign Holden as Sulu and Ensign DuBois relieved Kelly and Lieutenant Arex. “I just broke my leg skiing.”
“You what?”
“Broke my leg skiing, sir. Dr. McCoy mended it, but he said it will be a little sore for a few days.”
“We were in the rec chamber,” Sulu added helpfully.
“I see.” Kirk obviously didn’t
“Captain it’s a – I don’t know what,” Ruth interrupted from Sciences. “But it matches the reports we've got about anomalous warp traces. We’re getting indecipherable readings…” She turned from the hooded viewer. “And we’re being scanned.”
“Have we got visual?” Kirk asked, forgetting about Uhura and skiing.
“Yes, sir, marginal but…”
“Put it on the scre – “ The word was interrupted by a loud blaring, something like a trumpet, and a brilliant flash of green light from every instrument panel. Uhura’s board was immediately flooded with calls from every deck. Sulu punched at his controls.
“Captain, engines have reversed themselves!” he said. At the seat next to him, Monique frantically tried to adjust navigation.
“Heading 34.15 mark 4, sir,” she said. “One hundred and eighty degrees from our plotted course.”
“She’s not responding,” Sulu added.
“Manual override,” Kirk ordered.
“No effect, sir.”
Kirk turned to the com. “Scotty!”
“Captain, what’re ye doin’ to my engines?”
“Not me, Scotty, Can you disengage?”
“I’ll try, sir!”
“Captain, my controls aren’t functioning,” Ruth reported. “I can’t get the computer.”
Kirk swiveled the con. “Uhura, get Spock up here.”
“NO…” Ruth blurted out, then, “I can handle…”
“I don’t doubt it, Miss Valley, but I need my First Officer,” Kirk replied.
“Sir,” Lieutenant Walking Bear said from the Engineering station, “weapons are off line.”
“Shields are functional, Captain,” Sulu reported.
“Navigation sensors show normal, Captain,” Monique rejoined.
“Mr. Spock is not responding, sir,” Uhura said.
“Keep trying,” Kirk returned.
“Captain,” Scott’s voice said from the com, “she won’t disengage. I’ve tried everything, even a full shut-down sequence and I canna stop her.”
"We’ve got to do something! Ensign Valley can’t get the computer…"
“Where’s Spock?” Scott asked.
“I don’t know,” Kirk replied, “Scotty, we show no weapons, but shields are …”
“Still no answer, sir,” Uhura said from behind him.
“Damn!” Kirk stood up. “Sulu, take the con, I’m going to Spock’s quarters.” Ruth jumped up from her chair.
“NO CAPTAIN!” She rushed after Kirk. “Sir, you can’t….”
The turbolift door closed on her words as the crew exchanged puzzled glances.
“…do that!”
“Ensign, there’s only one thing that would prevent my First Officer from responding to a summons; an injury so serious he couldn’t. If Spock is hurt, I need to know!”
The turbolift deposited them on Deck Five. Kirk raced down the corridor with Ruth at his heels.
“Captain, he’s not… there’s something I… you don’t know what…”
Kirk reached the door of Spock’s quarters. It didn’t open and Ruth said a silent ‘thank god!’ She hit the com and yelled, “Bones, get to Spock’s quarters, fast!”
Kirk was pounding on the door. “Spock! Spock, are you all right? Spock!”
“Captain, if you’d let me explain…”
Kirk ignored her and prepared to use the captain’s override.
“CAPTAIN!”
He whirled. “WHAT?!”
“Mr. Spock is… I mean I think he’s engaged with… with Jilla … Ensign Majiir is…”
“JIM!” McCoy came running down the corridor. “Don’t go in there!”
Kirk turned to him, his jaw set, his face livid. “Bones, do you know what’s going on, because if you do…”
“Of course I know!” McCoy interrupted. “Just don’t go in there!”
“Why not?! Spock doesn’t answer his com!”
“That’s because he and Mrs. Majiir are…”
“That will not be necessary, Doctor,” Spock’s voice, strangely strained, came from the other side of the door.
“Spock, thank god! Are you all right?” Kirk asked.
“I am … undamaged, Captain,” came the wary reply. “However, I cannot, at this time, leave my cabin.”
“And just why is that?” Kirk demanded.
A decidedly female moan came from somewhere in the cabin. Kirk stared at McCoy, realizing what the doctor had said just before Spock spoke. He glanced at Ruth. Ensign Valley was blushing. He and Mrs. Majiir… He raised a weary hand to his forehead. “Bones, tell me you’re joking.”
McCoy shrugged. “Sorry, Jim,” he said.
Another female moan came from behind the door and Kirk scowled. “It hasn’t been seven years,” he pointed out.
“There are extenuating circumstances,” McCoy returned on top of Ruth’s,
“He’s in no condition to be on duty.”
“Remember I told you something wasn’t right with the girl?” McCoy continued. “I was right. Mrs. Majiir’s husband had a strange way of helping her adapt to Vulcan culture.” He scowled. “He altered her genetics, Jim. It’s the mating drive.”
“I just pointed out that it hasn’t been…”
“No, Jim. Not Spock. Her.” McCoy sighed. “And apparently it’s contagious, at least to other Vulcans.”
“WHAT?!” Kirk exploded.
“You weren’t listening?” Ruth asked. “Jilla’s crazy husband gave her pon farr. She’s – infected – Spock. And she could die.”
Kirk stared, unable to quite believe it. That madness, that agony contagious, and from an Indiian? He shuddered inwardly. Is it possible? It must be, if McCoy says it is. Altered genetics. My God, that girl’s a eugenics… No, gut reaction. She’s innocent. McCoy said her husband was trying to help her. How the hell is this help? Doesn’t she have to return to Vulcan? The ship’s out of control, we can’t… And even if we could, her husband is dead…
“How did Spock get involved?” he wanted to know.
“I was able to convince him it was a purely biological necessity,” Ruth stated, flushing all over again.
“Of course,” Kirk scowled. He turned to McCoy. “How long have you known about this?”
McCoy lowered his eyes. “About two days, Jim,” he confessed.
“Why wasn’t I told?”
“I've been workin' on some ideas to reverse the chemical changes, and Ruthie had this idea that if we could get Spock to – help out – “ McCoy shrugged.
“I might have guessed.” He closed his eyes, considering. No weapons, computers off line, the engines out of control – but we have shields, communications, navigational sensors, life support... “How long will they be - engaged?” he asked.
“Three or four days, Jim.”
Jim sighed. Of course. Spock’s drive was only turned aside. Now, with a willing partner… but days? How can this wait days? Mrs. Majiir’s life is at stake – and possibly Spock’s… but damn it, so are four hundred and nineteen other lives and my ship!
“Sir,” Ruth’s voice broke into his thoughts, “If you’d let me get at the main computer bank…”
“Can you do anything?” Kirk snapped.
“I’ll see when I get there!” Ruth snapped back, then added, “Sir.” Kirk couldn’t tell if her reddened face was from embarrassment or annoyance.
“Jim, Mrs. Majiir will die if her cycle isn’t completed,” McCoy said softly. “And I don’t know what effect it will have on Spock…”
“I know that, Dcotor.”
“And unless Bones can find a miracle cure, only Spock can save her," Ruth pointed out.
And Ruth could save the ship,” McCoy added.
Kirk sighed again. He didn’t like it, but he had no choice. At least, no reasonable one. Nothing else to be done. He turned to Ruth. “Get down to the Main Computers, Ensign.”
“Aye, sir,” Ruth said.
A barely audible “Spock…” came from the com to Spock’s cabin and Kirk switched it off.
“How in god's name did she get involved in…” Kirk began, jerking his thumb after Ruth. “Never mind,” he said to McCoy incredulous stare. “I know how.
“Spock, thank god! Are you all right?”
“I am … undamaged, Captain. However, I cannot, at this time, leave my cabin.”
“And just why is that?”
…moan…
“Bones, tell me you’re joking.”
“Sorry, Jim.”
…moan…
“It hasn’t been seven years.”
“There are extenuating circumstances.”
“He’s in no condition to be on duty.”
Uhura clicked off the com. The Bridge crew had been listening, concerned for their First Officer’s well-being. The first moan had been interpreted as a medical emergency, but the second was unmistakable. Monique started to giggle, and Sulu and Uhura both glared at her. Sulu got up from the command chair and stood next to Uhura, his voice discreetly low.
“Uhura, you don’t think he’s really…”
“I’m trying not to think at all.”
A grin fought with Sulu’s features. “Who do you suppose she is?”
“Lieutenant Sulu!” Uhura stated indignantly.
“Well, aren’t you curious?”
“All I know is it isn’t me.”
They both turned as Scotty stepped onto the Bridge. “Where’s the Captain?” he asked.
“He went to Mr. Spock’s quarters,” Uhura replied. Fortunately, Scott couldn’t see her blush.
“What is it? Is Mr. Spock all right?”
“He sounds just fine,” Sulu said as he stepped back to the helm. Scott stared at him. Monique stifled another giggle.
“Are any of ye aware that we’re bein’ propelled after heaven knows what and we canna get into our computers to try and stop it?" Scott thundered. “Have ye all gone daft?”
The turbolift door opened and Kirk stepped onto the Bridge. “Status, Mr. Sulu?” he asked brusquely.
“No change, sir. Helm still not responding, engines still at reverse thrust. We’re up to warp nine and increasing.”
“What’s goin’ on, Captain?” Scotty asked. “Did you find Mr. Spock?
The Bridge crew was awkwardly silent. Kirk glanced around at the tight, averted faces. “We heard, sir,” Uhura said quietly.
Kirk suppressed a scowl.
“Not meanin’ to be rude, Captain,” Scott rejoined, “but what in blazes is the matter with this lot? And where's Spock?”
“I’ll explain later, Scotty,” Kirk replied. “Spock is – unable to be of any assistance. Uhura, any contact with the alien?”
“No, sir,” Uhura returned. “No response at all.”
“Course, Miss DuBois?”
“34.15 mark 4, unchanged, sir,” Monique answered.
“Mr. Sulu, see if you can get anything from Sciences.”
“Aye, sir,” Sulu said, moving up to the empty station.
“Scotty, how are the engines holding up?”
“Purrin’ like kittens and just as obstinate,” Scott said. “I canna control them at all, but there doesna seem to be any damage bein’ done.”
“Damage report?” Kirk said to Uhura.
“All decks report no damage – except Weapons Control reports no function and the computer doesn’t answer to any terminal. It displays the normal flow of information, and hasn’t effected communications or life support, but otherwise, there’s no response.”
This time Kirk scowled openly. Ensign Ruth Valley had better be able to do something… and fast.
Ruth scowled as she sat down at the computer in her cabin. The embarrassment in front of the First Officer’s quarters had made her acutely aware of what she’d talked Spock into. Intellectually, of course, it was easy: repeated, prolonged sexual intercourse for the survival of a sentient being. Emotionally it came out very differently – and she was having difficulty thinking of it in any other way. She couldn’t put her finger on why it was bothering her so much. It wasn’t as if she was a prude. But the reality of it had hit her emotions in a way she hadn’t expected.
So he’s screwing your roommate? So what?
So it’s – I don’t know – uncomfortable. What will I say to her when it’s all over?
Besides you’re welcome?
I mean, she’s so private… not to mention how private he is – and she knows I know… he knows I know and…
And he’s very good at pretending not to know things isn’t he? Almost as good at it as you are.
What are you talking about?
See what I mean?
She shook her head, ordering herself to stop the thoughts. Come on, baby, she said to the computer screen, let’s see what the nasty green light did to you. She only had to look for a short while before discovering the problem. It had nothing to do with the anomaly. There was a program running in the background, one that was cycling through every process and subroutine, gobbling up computer resources as it went. Ruth recognized it: the diagnostic Spock had asked her to test.
Boss, that was still buggy as hell! she lamented.Why did you run it!
She sighed in frustration but also in relief. At least repairing things would be easy. All she had to do was shut the program down.
“Computer,” she said. “Terminate diagnostic program twelve seven alpha.”
“Unable to comply,” the computer responded. “Program is security locked to prevent unauthorized tampering.”
Ruth scowled. “What’s the reason for that?”
“Diagnostic program twelve seven alpha compiles efficiency statistics on all system software processes. Unauthorized tampering would interfere with proper results.”
“This isn’t tampering,” Ruth objected. “I just want to shut it down.”
“Unable to comply. The indicated program is security locked to prevent unauthorized tampering.”
Boss, what in the galaxy were you thinking? Whoever would want to falsify the results collected by a software efficiency analyzer? “Okay, then, override security locks on diagnostic program twelve seven alpha, on authorization of Assistant Science Officer Ruth Maxwell Valley,” and she provided her system and voiceprint identifiers.
“Unable to comply,” the computer objected. “Insufficient security protocols submitted.”
Her frown deepened. Okay, she’d forge Spock’s security authorization. It shouldn’t be too hard, since it was, after all, stored somewhere in the computer to begin with.
It took almost ten minutes for her to assemble the proper override codes corresponding to those of the Chief Science Officer of the U.S.S. Enterprise, and she tried again. “Computer,” she said, “terminate diagnostic program twelve seven alpha, security authorization attached in the indicated file under Commander Spock’s identification account.”
“Unable to comply,” the computer complained. “Betatest debug timeout limit exceeded. Automatic lockout protocols are in place to prevent inadvertent premature termination.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Ruth wailed, but she knew very well what it meant. Spock had included a routine that even locked himself out of the shutdown procedures, to make sure he didn’t stop the program accidentally while he was doing something else. The lockouts had been timed, to go into effect after the diagnostic had been running for some set period. That way, if he’d been happy with the test results, he wouldn’t have had to do anything to keep it running.
“When did the automatic lockout protocols go into effect?” Ruth demanded.
“One hundred twelve seconds ago,” the computer answered.
“Less than two minutes?” she yelled.
“Affirmative.”
“Oy, gevalt. Okay, fine, you balky, hardassed transtator dump, just what is the proper procedure for shutting down diagnostic program twelve seven alpha?”
“There is no identified shutdown protocol,” the computer responded.
“You’re kidding.”
“Unrecognized input,” the computer objected.
Ruth slapped the terminal in front of her in a place roughly corresponding to upside the ears, and then went about trying to convince herself that there must be some way to shut the damn thing down.
There wasn’t one. There was only one option she could think of. The diagnostic had been started by Spock, up on the Bridge. It was an add-on to the normal system software, not part of the every-day stuff that the computer would normally do. If she shut down the entire computer system, and then brought it back up, it should restart without the diagnostic.
Since Engineering wasn’t responding, or Navigation, or the Helm, shutting down the computer was the only way to stop the engines short of ejecting the nacelles. And if she didn’t stop them…
Bwana will have no choice but to interrupt Spock and let Jilla die. But he sure won’t like this, either. She sighed and poked the com unit on her desk next to the computer terminal. “Bridge,” she said.
“Kirk here,” came the immediate response.
“Captain, I’m going to have to engage the manual emergency computer shut-down,” she reported. “There’s no other way to get the computer to reset itself so we can reset the engines.”
“Are you certain, Ensign?” Kirk’s voice asked.
You would’ve never asked Spock that. “Yes, sir, quite sure,” Ruth replied. “Fortunately, it shouldn’t take more than an hour or so to reboot the whole thing, during which time, the engines should be completely disengaged, and at least the controls from the alien outside should be ineffective.”
“And Scotty will have to be doing warp mixes without computer assistance.”
Ruth cringed. “He’s done it before,” she suggested.
She heard the Captain sigh. “Don’t do anything until I talk to Engineering,” he said.
“Oh, and...” she said.
“There’s more?”
“Yes, sir. Uhm, communications will go down as well. I respectfully suggest all personnel be issued communicators.” There was a moment of silence, and she wasn’t sure Kirk had heard her last statement. “Sir?”
“Very well, Ensign. Get a communicator from Supply and I’ll let you know when we’re fully manned.”
“Aye, sir.” Ruth closed the com.
All Hands sounded loudly as she quickly moved to Supply. Sulu’s voice reiterated the alert: “All Hands to All Stations. This is an emergency. Repeat. All Hands to all Stations.” Kirk’s voice explained the nature of the emergency. Every person on board would respond.
Except two, Ruth flushed, then grinned nastily.
There’s a thought. They won’t know about the override.
They won’t care, came the sour reply.
I hope one of them gets hungry.
Ruth, stop it! You made your bed…
You mean their bed.
Shut up!
There was already a line at Supply, but the communicators were being handed out efficiently, each crewmember putting his or her thumbprint on the inventory board. Ruth received hers and headed to the main computer core. She was climbing down the gangway when her communicator beeped.
She pulled it off her belt, flipping it open. “Valley.”
“We’re ready, Ensign,” the Captain said.
“Aye, sir.” Here goes nothing and I wish to god nothing was what was going on. She reached the internal banks, and threw the heavy set of double switches.