Yon t'Ashaya

Title: Yon t’Ashaya

Author: Tempest

Series: TOS

Paring: S/Mc

Rating: Somewhere between PG-13 and R, allusions to homosexual sexual activities and graphic male/male affection

Summary: Onboard a ship manned completely by Vulcans, Captain Spock goes into pon farr.

Hypothesis: When surrounded by other Vulcans, do they know when a male to whom they are not bonded goes into pon farr? Can they tell?

Disclaimer: I don't own TOS. I never have, and I never will. Star Trek and all of its relations are property of Paramount and Viacom. I only own this story. Anybody who has a problem with the thought of men in homosexual relationship with each other, please stay away. Any little ones stay away as well. Flames and feedback are welcome. Please ask before putting this anywhere. Once more: I don't own Star Trek, but I own most everything else.

Author's Notes: This story takes place in an on and off AU of mine wherein Starfleet has decided to separate all ships by species. As a result, Spock is Captain of the U.S.S. Intrepid-A. This is MY view of pon farr. MINE! And I created every single Vulcan on that ship save Spock, so keep that in mind.


Yon t’Ashaya

By Tempest

November 16, 2004



      Spock sat in his center command chair, looking at the main screen. The bridge was completely silent, the Vulcan personnel able to complete their tasks without the idle chatter that took place when Terrans worked. He resisted the very human compulsion to glance at the chronometer. His time sense told him there was still another 12.94 minutes left in his duty shift.


      He looked around the bridge for a moment. The Intrepid-A was substantially different from the Enterprise. His personnel were more logical, more efficient, and the ship better suited his needs, as it was designed for Vulcan crew. But sometimes, he missed the friendships he had built with the Terrans onboard his old ship. Although it was difficult, he was able to function without them, all except for one.


      His thoughts turned suddenly to more intimate matters, to the man that awaited him in his cabin, to his bondmate, his beloved Leonard McCoy. In now 12.62 minutes, he would be able to retire to his cabin, lock the doors and take his mate to their bed. There, he would pleasure both of them; while his mate would call out his name, and those blue eyes would look at him in pleasure and devotion.


      Spock forced himself to stop this train of thought before his body began to respond. Now was not the time. He returned his attention to the last few padds his science officer had him sign, until the low tone sounded, signaling the end of the shift.


      Spock rose from the center chair, relinquishing it to his First Officer and left the bridge. "Deck five," he told the turbolift, and it began to move. Soon, he thought, he would have his mate. Once more, his thoughts projected his desires.




      Down in sickbay, Leonard McCoy was looking over a tissue sample with the Chief Medical Officer Sorek. Aside from his mate, Sorek was the most tolerable Vulcan onboard the ship, and had a soft spot for him. McCoy turned to the Vulcan, "Sorek, come look at this."


      Sorek came over, leaning down a respectable distance above McCoy so as their closeness was not uncomfortable and peered into the microscope. "Fascinating, I believe you found the mutating agent that affected Ot-lan T'Lana. Excellent work, S'Haile."


      McCoy smiled, "Great, that's a load off my mind. When can we start on the serum?"


      Sorek looked at the slide again, then met McCoy's eyes, "We can begin immediately. But according to the chronometer, the duty shift has just ended. I will stay afterwards, but I assume the Captain would prefer I not detain you."


      McCoy shook his head, "Nah, I want to help with this, and besides, Spock can wait a bit for me." As McCoy finished his statement, a shudder coursed through him, his eyes widening slightly.


      Sorek raised his eyebrow, reaching for a scanner, "S'Haile?"


      McCoy waved his hand, dismissing the scanner. "I'm fine, but on second thought, you take care of the serum."


      Sorek nodded, "I shall see you tomorrow."


      "Yeah," McCoy said as he hurried out of the room, "tomorrow."




      McCoy stepped off the turbolift and headed directly for the cabin he shared with Spock, his pace quick.


      Arriving there, he quickly palmed the door open and stepped inside, feeling the cooler temperature of his quarters blast against his skin. Although the temperature was higher than Terran normal, it was still cooler than the rest of the ship, designed specifically for Vulcan chemistry. That was one of the accommodations his mate had made for him.


      His eyes adjusted to the light change, Spock had turned the lights lower than normal. Spock lay on his back on the bed, his uniform all ready off. McCoy was unable to contain his surprise; this was far from usual.


      Spock never looked over at him, but undoubtedly sensed his presence. "Leonard," he said softly, "Come to me."


      McCoy was cautious but obeyed the request of his mate, moving closer to the bed.


      Spock reached out a hand to pull McCoy closer; his fingers touched the fabric of the human's uniform. "You are still clothed, my adun? Remove them, and join me."


      That was even less usual, but seeing the Vulcan's nude body was always more than enough to get McCoy past just about anything. He quickly stripped off his clothing and slid into bed beside the Vulcan.


      As soon as the cool human skin came into contact with him, Spock turned on his side, wrapping his arms around the slim form of his mate and kissed him deeply. His hands moved over McCoy's body, touching and feeling, as his own body pushed the human into the mattress of their shared bed. He rubbed his body, hotter than usual, against the coolness of his bondmate's flesh, while his hands roamed and his lips continued to seek the human's.


      They continued like this for a good half hour until finally, the exhausted Vulcan lay back against the bed covers and pulled the human to lie atop his chest, stroking the soft, brown hair of his mate.


      McCoy looked into the deep brown eyes of his Vulcan, a question in his own. "Spock," he said softly, "what in God's name was that for?"


      Spock looked apologetic, his fingers continuing to stroke McCoy's hair. "I am sorry, Leonard. I was overcome with a need for you."


      McCoy sighed and nuzzled his cheek against the Vulcan's. "Understandable, I mean, how could you resist me?" He grinned.


      "If I had a means of doing that, we would hardly be bonded," the Vulcan replied with mild amusement and pulled him more tightly into his arms.


      McCoy nodded, adding a "Yeah, I'll give you that." He sighed contentedly and then leaned down to kiss the Vulcan's nose. "I think we need a shower and some dinner. I didn't take a lunch break today."


      Spock moved into an upright position on the bed. "I do not have an appetite presently, but I would certainly enjoy sharing a shower with you."


      McCoy climbed to his feet out of the Vulcan's arms and held out a hand to help Spock up as well. "You're not hungry at all? Is something wrong?"


      Spock took the outstretched hand, unneeded as it was, and rose to his feet as well. While the two walked to the washroom, he shook his head. "Nothing is wrong, Leonard. I simply have no appetite. It is not all that strange."


      McCoy nodded again, as he watched the Vulcan lean over through the shower stall to activate the water. The position gave him a perfect view of Spock's backside. "I'll give you that too."


      The Vulcan entered the shower stall and then made room for McCoy to join him. The human stepped inside and felt the wonderful sensation of hot water falling on him from the front, and the hot pressure of his beloved's body behind him. The nice thing about serving on an all-Vulcan ship was that none of them ever had the urge to take water showers, sonic ones being more efficient and thus logical. That left his shower without the water constrictions found aboard the Enterprise.


      McCoy let his eyes slip closed between the two sources of heat, and was surprised to suddenly feel a gentle rubbing motion on his back. He turned his head to look back at Spock, who had taken it upon himself to cleanse his mate.


      The movements of the cloth were long, efficient, and yet sensual. Within minutes, the entirety of the human's back was completely cleansed, and Spock reached out to turn his mate to face him.


      Spock looked into McCoy's face as he ran the cloth over his chest. The eyes were open only slightly, the pupils dilated. A grin was on the beloved face, one of contentment. His brown hair was matted and with the water looked almost as dark as Spock's own. As the Vulcan continued to run the cloth over his mate's body, and ruminate on the beauty of the man he held in his arms, he felt his own body begin to respond, and he willed himself to not make a move. *I already used him once, not more than ten minutes ago. I will not begin this now.*


      Once the human was completely clean, Spock quickly ran the cloth over his own body, before McCoy could make a move to return the favor. He knew that he would be unable to resist the erotic movements of a cleansing from his mate.


      McCoy opened fully his eyes to stare at Spock, who was running the cloth over his own chest. McCoy reached out, in an attempt to take the cloth from Spock. "Hey," he said softly, "that's my job."


      Spock responded by quickly rinsing the soap from his body and hanging up the cloth. He leaned down to kiss McCoy's forehead and shook his head. "It is done now, Leonard, and thus a moot point."


      The Vulcan stepped from the shower stall, and grabbed two towels. He wrapped one around his own waist, and then reached out to wrap the other around McCoy.


      McCoy stepped out of the shower stall, towel around himself and he returned to the main room of their quarters, looking back at Spock with curiosity. Something was definitely not normal, and he'd be on his toes. He dried himself as he walked and sat down in a chair. "Do you want to go to the mess hall or eat here?"


      Spock dried himself and donned his meditation robe. He then walked over to McCoy to take from him his towel and hang them back up in the head. "Since I do not plan on partaking of any food tonight, the choice is yours, however my preference would be to stay inside our quarters with you."


      McCoy replied with an "All right," and rose to the dresser to put on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, his typical off-duty clothing. He walked to the replicator, ordered a plate of spaghetti and took it back to the table in the middle of their quarters.


      Spock, in a somewhat atypical fashion, had gone to the cabinet where McCoy stored his liquor and selected a bottle of wine. He poured it into a glass for the human and handed it to him.


      McCoy took it, simply adding the action to his mental list of things different about Spock's behavior that night and began to eat.


      Spock sat down across from him, his eyes on McCoy's face and hands the entire time. At one point, McCoy had a bit of sauce just under his mouth, and Spock had to resist the urge to lean across the table and lick it off for him. Although he did not succumb to the urge, the Vulcan's body did respond to the suggestion. Knowing that the only answer to this was to separate himself from McCoy, he pardoned himself and headed to his meditation corner, where he lit his fire pot, and with some difficulty, phased out of his immediate attention.


      McCoy sipped his wine as he watched Spock meditate. Something was definitely up, and he vowed to get to the bottom of it. If what he thought was true, there'd be some difficulty. He finished with his dishes and put them back in the replicator, to be cleaned. He picked up a medical journal and sat down on the bed to read for an hour. When he finished, he went under the covers and closed the bed light, knowing that when Spock was ready, he'd come to bed.




      The next morning, McCoy awoke to find Spock awake and playing with his hair. Still groggy, he had nothing more to say then "Please don't tell me we don't have time for breakfast."


      Spock shook his head, as he leaned over to kiss McCoy and press him into the mattress. The Vulcan quickly discarded the human's bedclothes and sought comfort in the cool, human flesh.




      Forty-five minutes and one shower later, Spock and McCoy, both dressed for duty, arrived in the mess hall. Around them sat various Vulcan personnel, most of them speaking not in standard, but in dialects of their home planet. Usually, McCoy felt uncomfortable being the only human onboard, which was why unless Spock was with him, or occasionally Sorek, he ate in his quarters.


      Just as it so happens, Spock went onto the mess line to pick up breakfast for both he and McCoy, and as the human went searching for a place to sit, he heard somebody say "S'Haile," in a mild Shi'Kahr accent. McCoy turned around to find Sorek sitting at a table with a cup of spice tea and a fruit salad.


      McCoy sat down at the table and nodded to Sorek, saying "Spock's going to join us if you don't mind."


      Sorek raised his eyebrow, "Why would I mind if he, who is both the Khart-lan of this vessel and your adun, sat here?"


      McCoy grinned slightly "Just a human thing."


      Sorek nodded once in acknowledgement, and while taking a sip of his tea, posed his question in a lowered voice, "Are you well, S'Haile? And is the Khart-lan?"


      McCoy sighed and after a moment nodded, "I'm fine, and I think he is, too. Although I plan on watching him just to be sure."


      Sorek simply replied "Logical."


      At that point, Spock appeared with a tray of coffee and eggs, and a tray of tea and toast. He handed McCoy his tray and sat beside the human, greeting Sorek with a "Na'shaya, Hassu."


      Sorek responded properly with a "Na'shaya, Khart-lan," and then immediately reverted back to Standard, where the three of them discussed ship's business.


      The three of them were ending their meal and Sorek, in typical Vulcan fashion of not knowing quite how to treat Spock and McCoy together, said, "Khart-lan, you should be proud of S'Haile McCoy; he solved the medical case we had been working on last evening."


      "Indeed?" came the response, and an overtly affectionate look, considering the Vulcan company, at McCoy. McCoy simply shrugged and said, "It's my job."


      Sorek watched them; having often dined with them, he knew their psionic energies quite well, and something about it seemed different today. Unsure of what, he chose not to comment.


      McCoy, too, was watching Spock, very concerned but stubborn enough to not voice them until he was sure why he was.


      Spock's time sense told him it was time for him to report to the bridge. He rose from the table to deposit their trays in the recycling unit. When he came back, he nodded at Sorek and said "Ar'kadau muhl, Hassu." Sorek inclined his head in reply.


      Spock turned to McCoy and lifted his two fingers. McCoy rose to his feet and stepped beside Spock to return the ritual touch. The Vulcan spoke softly into his ear, "I shall see you tonight, my adun." With another movement, he turned and walked out of the mess hall.


      It was not lost on Sorek that Spock had rubbed his groin against McCoy's before leaving.




      On the bridge that day, Spock was having increased difficulty concentrating. His thoughts continued to slip back to the feel of the cool, human skin against his. His distraction was causing other problems, and finding himself to will away his body's response, he grew irritable. It was when he had said "Bath-pa" for the third audible time, and had raised his voice at his personal yeoman that he realized what was wrong. He did a quick mental calculation, logically; he should have ten days before the pon farr. That was more than enough time, he decided, and thus there was no need to alarm McCoy. He would approach the subject in a few days.


      His First Officer, Tavin, watched silently his Captain's behavior, and when his shift ended, he entered the turbolift and made his way to sickbay.



      McCoy and Sorek had finished replicating their newfound serum, when a shadow descended on the laboratory. McCoy turned around to see Tavin, and he resisted the impulse to nudge Sorek to get him to turn as well. Instead, he simply said, "We have company."


      Sorek turned around, and greeted the Tavin with an impassive face, "Na'shaya Zhel-lan."


      Tavin simply stepped inside the room and said in a thick accent of Kashral, "Hassu, I will speak with you."


      Sorek nodded curtly and turned to McCoy, saying "S'Haile, begin the administration of this serum." He removed his laboratory coat and walked out of the room, Tavin at his side.


      McCoy watched the two Vulcans disappear from the room. Something was definitely not right. He decided to ask Spock about it after their shift ended, and he went to load the hyposprays.




      Sorek led Tavin to his office and closed the door. It was simply a formality, for the entire medical staff, save McCoy, was Vulcan, and no Vulcan would eavesdrop on a conversation between senior officers.


      Sorek put his hands behind him in a position of parade rest as he focused his attention on Tavin.


      Tavin began to speak, lapsing into Modern Golic, which became loosely translated, as "I believe something is amiss with the Khart-lan."


      Sorek nodded gravely, "I believe you are correct. May I ask what has caused your belief?"


      Tavin stared at Sorek, "I witnessed him raise his voice with Yeoman T'Pak, when she did nothing to warrant even a warning. He has been irritable on the bridge and most distracted."


      Sorek nodded again, "Unfortunately, that is only logical."


      Tavin quirked up an eyebrow, "You do not mean to say, Hassu, that the Khart-lan..."


      "He is; I could sense it when I dined with him this morning."


      "I do not envy you your psionic abilities, Hassu."


      "I also do not know if the Khart-lan is aware of what he is going through. He has only had one previously, and it did not reach its logical conclusion."


      Tavin nodded, had he not been Vulcan, it could almost be said he was sympathetic. "Is S'Haile McCoy aware?"


      Sorek shook his head. "He realizes something is wrong, but he has never been through this, and does not know for what he should search."


      "It is your duty to inform him, Hassu, as we can be unsure as to whether the Khart-lan realizes."


      "I will inform him after the duty shift this evening. The Khart-lan could deteriorate into the plak tow very quickly, considering the documented factors of having his first interrupted, as well as a bonding to a male Terran."


      "I have heard the tales," Tavin replied, "You will need to prepare the S'Haile so he will be able to handle the beast within the Khart-lan."


      "Indeed, and you will need to undergo standard procedure for this scenario."


      "I will keep you informed, Hassu." Tavin gave a curt nod of his head and then left the office.


      Sorek stood a moment longer in the room, formulating a way in which to explain the situation to the Terran. When he decided he had an applicable means of explanation, he, too, left his office, to return to the laboratory.




      McCoy, while Sorek was meeting mysteriously with Tavin, finished filling the hyposprays with the new serum, and went about administering the dosage the Lieutenant T'Lana, who lay on a biobed in the female section of the sickbay.


      He was filling out the chart when he felt the same sensation over the bond he had felt yesterday. Spock was calling to him. He looked over at the main office to sickbay, knowing he should probably inform Sorek that he was leaving, but the door was closed, and thus he was not allowed to enter or interrupt.


      Like a deer frozen in headlights, he stood in the middle of sickbay for a minute longer, until he felt Spock's call to him again. Without another moment's thought, he turned on his heels and walked out of sickbay, heading towards their quarters.




      Spock awaited him on their bed; having decided that their meal break could be better spent engaging in other activities. He turned his head, when he heard the door to their cabin open. He watched as his mate stepped inside. Not wanting to wait another minute, Spock rose from their bed, went past the partition in their quarters, and pulled McCoy up and into his arms, where he proceeded to carry him to their bed, undress the human, undress himself, and climb atop him.


      Their closeness was the same as it had been for days now, frequent, longer than normal, and rougher than he believed Spock had in him. McCoy was thinking to himself about possibilities for Spock's behavior, when the Vulcan's lips descended on his, effectively drowning out all thoughts besides those of mutual pleasure.




      Tavin, after his meeting with Sorek, entered his office and sat at his computer terminal. He activated his comm. unit and requested engineering. The face of a Terran middle-aged Vulcan appeared on the screen, and he replied, in a rich accent hailing from Ta'Loth, "Nam-tor nash Mish-shal, stariben Satuk,"


      Tavin replied, "Nafai-tor nash-veh, Mishek," switching to Standard, he asked, "Are you alone?"


      Satuk replied, "I can be, Zhel-lan." The Vulcan moved out of site, and entered again in the engineering office. "You have business, Zhel-lan," Satuk asked?


      Tavin nodded, "In regards to one of our less pleasant duties. It concerns the Captain and a medical matter."


      The standard response of Vulcan surprise followed, as Satuk's eyebrow lifted. After a moment of thought, he replied, "You mean to say it is the Captain's Time?"


      Gravely, Tavin said, "Yes, Hassu Sorek has certified it, and mentions that the probability of him entering plak tow within a matter of days is quite high."


      Satuk schooled his features well. "You wish me to prepare the area?"


      "Yes, it is necessary for it to be ready for him and S'Haile McCoy."


      Satuk nodded in acknowledgement. "It will be ready by 2136 point 8 hours, Zhel-lan."


      "That is acceptable, Mishek." With that, Tavin turned off his comm. unit and positioned his fingers in a basic meditative posture reminiscent of a steeple. Having gone through this cycle three times before, he knew what the Captain could become. After another moment's thought, he reactivated the comm. unit for another call.




      With a kiss, Spock parted ways from McCoy. He suppressed his confused pout until he was alone in the turbolift on his way back to the bridge. The last session of lovemaking with his mate had done absolutely nothing for him. Spock stopped that thought immediately. The problem was not with his mate; McCoy had been more than willing and the intimacy had been quite satisfying. The trouble was that it had simply done virtually nothing to relieve his arousal. The fever was coming upon him harder than it had the last time, and had it not been for McCoy's need to return to duty, he would have simply kept the human captive in their bed for the remainder of the day, satisfied to ignore his own commitments.


      He stepped off the turbolift and crossed to his center chair. The air, as it had been the last few days, was warmer than usual, but now it seemed even more heated. The bridge crew, though there was no evidence, seemed to be looking at him rather strangely. He ignored it and focused once more on the padd his Yeoman gave him, this time careful to say nothing to her.




      Sorek was almost concerned when he reentered the laboratory to find McCoy missing. He had been prepared to put out a page to security when his head nurse, T'Paria, informed him that McCoy had taken a lunch break. She also mentioned that he did not seem to be within his "usual Terran behavior parameters."


      Satisfied that the human was at least safe at the moment, Sorek returned to his office to begin compiling what would be needed when the time came. He was halfway finished when his comm. unit beeped. He activated it. " Nam-tor nash Has-sutauk, stariben Hassu Sorek."


      Tavin's expressionless face filled the screen. "Hassu, have you spoken yet with S'Haile McCoy?"


      "He has taken his midday meal break. I will explain to him when he returns."


      Tavin almost looked surprised. "I see. Be certain you do. We can take no risks with this situation."


      "Zhel-lan, 99.76% of this crew will understand this completely, and 66.6% of the crew have experienced it directly. I will be certain to discuss it with S'Haile McCoy as soon as he arrives back in sickbay."


      "Understood," Tavin replied. "I spoke with Mishek Satuk. He will have everything else prepared by 2136.8. Do you believe the Khart-lan will last until then?"


      "I believe he has at least another day of control left with him, perhaps two."


      "Then there should be no difficulty." Tavin cut the comm. signal, leaving Sorek alone in his office.




      McCoy, as it would be, did not return to sickbay after his "lunch." He went to the biology laboratory to finish up a second experiment he had begun work on the previous week. McCoy stayed there for a few hours, finishing phase II of the experiment, an attempt to replicate the Vulcan nictating membrane, also known as the "Vulcan inner eyelid" to help workers using radiation as well as a possible means of cure for partial blindness.


      McCoy was there alone, for the most part. The only other people in the area were enlisted personnel, taking care of basic tasks. Beta shift was to end soon as it was, so the place was even more abandoned than usual. That was, of course, until Nurse T'Paria entered the laboratory with a dutiful look on her mostly unexpressive countenance and a "Hassu Sorek requests your presence in surgery, S'Haile."


       Concerned, McCoy put down his slides and exited the laboratory with her. The walk to sickbay was brisk and as soon as he entered, he was his usual medical self. He slipped into surgical dress and went over to where his Vulcan, medical counterpart stood. It was not until the incision had been made, did McCoy realize that the patient was Lieutenant T'Lana.




      After five hours in surgery, McCoy slumped against the wall, closing his eyes. There had been too much green blood in that room. At least they had managed to pull her through. He took a deep breath and pulled the surgical scrubs over his body. He needed a long, hot shower and some cuddling with a different Vulcan body.


      He sighed, running a hand through his hair. No doubt Sorek would be busy for the rest of the night tending to T'Lana's particular mental needs. He allowed his shoulders to slump, too tired to even make it seem like he had learned anything from spending time with Vulcans and exited sickbay, knowing that they would find him if they needed him. They always did.



      "Khart-lan, Ot-lan T'Lana has had a relapse and is in need of surgery. Our medical staff is tending to her now. The entire staff." The last words were meant to punctuate the fact that McCoy, too, would be incapacitated for the rest of the evening.


      "Understood, Zhel-lan, will that be all?" Spock realized that if McCoy were detained, he would be without him, most likely, for the entire evening. Retiring to their quarters would do him little good, for he would be alone, and every scent in their rooms would only serve to further arouse him.


      Tavin stood at parade rest, studying the Captain mildly. "Ha, Khart-lan. Shall I relieve you of your post, now?"

      An imperceptible shake of Spock's head followed. "Rai, Zhel-lan. I am taking a double shift on the bridge this evening."


      Tavin kept his eyebrow from rising, although the decision was somewhat unexpected. He inclined his head respectfully. "Understood, Khart-lan. By your leave, then?"


      Spock nodded his head as well. "I will see you for your shift tomorrow, Zhel-lan."


      This time, the quirk of the eyebrow was beyond Tavin's control. "Of course, Khart-lan." With quick steps, he entered the turbolift. The doors slipped closed, as Tavin resolved himself to meditate on what was to come.



      Sorek sat in a chair beside T'Lana's biobed, monitoring her signs after the meld they had shared. His stylus flew over the padd he held, making notes for the nurses. Once finished, he called T'Paria over.


      "She will need to be monitored until morning. After that, further study of possible complications can be conducted."


      "Ha, Hassu," came the reply with a slight inclination of her head.


      Sorek turned and left, going through sickbay to find McCoy. It was imperative he speak with him, and soon. After a quick and efficient search, he was able to ascertain that McCoy was not there.


      Sorek suppressed a sigh as he went into his office, intent on getting the padd he would need to show McCoy and then track him down, when the comm. unit beeped.


      Despite his near frantic need, Sorek's voice remained calm. "Nam-tor nash Has-sutauk, stariben Hassu Sorek."


      Satuk's face filled the screen, his eyes narrowing as he took in the look on Sorek's face. "Nafai-tor nash-veh, Hassu. Zhel-lan Tavin asked me to inform him when I completed the task. He has been missing for some time, and I decided that since you are undoubtedly involved in this endeavor, you would wish to know that all is prepared."


      Sorek nodded once as he listened, his eyes darting away to scan for the padd he needed. "It is within normal specification, Mishek?"


      A single nod came from Satuk, "All is as it should be."


      Sorek moved away from the screen to pick up the labeled padd. "You did remember that the S'Haile is Terrasu, Mishek?"


      "I did, Hassu, although it makes little difference in this case. Besides, that is your duty."


      No response came from Sorek. A few minutes passed in silence. Satuk's voice softened slightly. "You have not yet been able to tell him?"


      "No, duty has prevented the inevitable thus far. I plan to speak with him soon. He must be prepared."


      "Understood, Hassu. When you need us, we will be ready."


      "Noted." With that, the comm. link was severed and Sorek quickly scanned the padd once more, before exiting sickbay on his way to the Captain's quarters.


      After a brisk walk, he arrived. The chime rang and he waited for entry. No response came. Sorek quickly checked his time sense: 0241. Certainly, the S'Haile was either resting from surgery, or, within a probability of 86.4% was currently involved with the Captain. He waited another few minutes, rang again, and when no response came, resolved to warn him in alpha shift.



Tavin finished his meditation a minute before the comm. unit signaled. Rising from his place before the fire pot, he reached to answer it. "Stariben Zhel-lan Tavin."


      A soft face of Vulcan feminine beauty filled the screen, a look of concern evident in her features. "Zhel-lan?"


      The surprise was evident in Tavin's eyes for only the barest moment before once more he masked his features. "Gol'nevsu, what is your business?"


      "Something is wrong with the Khart-lan." She replied, keeping as cool as he.


      "I know."


      "You are second in command; do you plan to do nothing, Zhel-lan?"


      "The situation is under control, and will be handled correctly at the time necessary, Gol'nevsu."


      "You give me your word?" Her eyes searched his features for any reaction.


      "I do. And I also give my word that the Khart-lan shall not repeat the actions he did towards you today."


      She nodded. "Then I shall not disturb you with this matter again, Zhel-lan." The comm. link was cut, leaving Tavin alone to his thoughts.


      *Khart-lan, I know you cannot hear me,* he thought to himself, *but it will be necessary for you to simply give in to the affliction, so you can be cured.*


      He moved towards his bed, intent on actually sleeping before the days he knew were to follow.



      Spock stayed on the bridge, reviewing their latest stellar cartography maps, and working at keeping his thoughts away from his mate. His mate was working in surgery, there was no way he could disturb him for such desires. Spock resolved to talk to McCoy and tell him what was happening so they could prepare. McCoy would need to be warned about what was expected of him.


      But even these innocent thoughts about his mate caused his body to respond in a way, of which he was not proud. Rising from his chair, he walked into his ready room. He told the helmsman that he would be working in there, but he chose to omit the fact that he would also be able to care of his own particular needs in the isolated chamber, at least until daybreak.



      Tavin fixed his uniform as he rode in the turbolift to the bridge. Although he would not admit it, his interlude of sleep had given him a more refreshed outlook on their current situation.


      The turbolift doors opened and he stepped onto the bridge. His eyes fell immediately on the empty Captains chair. Walking briskly, he came behind the helmsman, his voice stern. "Ot-lan, explain this."


      The Lieutenant turned around with his eyebrow raised. He had not realized the steps he heard belonged to Tavin. "Explain what, Zhel-lan?"


      His rest was the only thing that kept Tavin from showing the irritation at such a question. Instead, he thought back on his order; he realized he had not been specific. "Explain why the bridge is without a temporary commanding officer, Ot-lan."


      "Khart-lan Spock is monitoring the bridge from his ready room, Zhel-lan. The bridge is not without a commanding officer; he is only not visually obvious." On any other ship, that response would have been considered smug and most likely insubordination as well.


      Tavin's eyebrow crept only the slightest bit upward, as he reflected on that answer. "How long ago did the Khart-lan retire into his ready room?"


      "Six point three two Standard hours ago, Zhel-lan," came the immediate response.


      "Has he exited his room at all since then?"


      "Rai, Zhel-lan."


      Tavin's eyebrow crept up even more, his thoughts turning towards the inevitable worst-case scenario, which was becoming more probable with the answer to each question. "Has he actually activated the comm. to the bridge for monitoring purposes since he entered his ready room?"


      The lieutenant paused for a moment before answering, his newness to duty and his youth, having not yet gone through pon farr, obviously causing him to not realize what Tavin had. "Rai, Zhel-lan."


      "Have you attempted to monitor his own status whilst he was in there, Ot-lan?"


      "Rai, Zhel-lan." The lieutenant hung his head, only slightly, but it was enough of an admission of failure of logic that Tavin knew that no verbal reprimand would be necessary, especially in the circumstances, in which they found themselves.


      Tavin nodded once, and then walked slowly and silently to the ready room. He rang for entry once and patiently waited for a response. There was none. He tried once more, and still, no reply, not even an order by the Captain for privacy. Taking in a calming breath to prepare himself for the worst, Tavin palmed the door. "Door override, Beta 2B, Zhel-lan Tavin."


      The computer chirped back, "Door override in progress," and for the first time in his life, Tavin actually regretted the use of technology. Finally, the door slid open, and Tavin stepped inside. His Vulcan eyes took easier to the darkness of the cabin than they did to the normal bright lighting and he quickly scanned the room. Spock was not at his meeting table or on the sofa, but was instead huddled in a corner, his arms around his body and his head leaning back against the wall. His clothing was at least still clean, although Tavin could tell his trousers had been thoroughly used. He walked towards him slowly. "Khart-lan, are you all right?"


      Spock looked up at him in confusion for a moment, his brow furrowed. "Leave me be."


      Tavin's eyebrow crept to his hairline. "I cannot, Khart-lan, your presence is necessary on the bridge and it is my responsibility to make certain that you are there."


      Spock slowly climbed to his feet, staring at Tavin for a moment. He took in a deep breath. "Sickbay's status?"


      An imperceptibly silent sigh escaped Tavin's lips; the Captain still had his logic. "The surgery was a success, Ot-lan T'Lana will make a full recovery."


      Spock's brow furrowed even more as he heard this; he stormed towards the door, emotion not usually present in his voice, very much there. "Leonard has been released? When? And nobody informed me?"


      Tavin took in another deep breath; he knew what was to come. "You had decided to take the Gamma shift, I was in meditation, Khart-lan, and the medical staff was undoubtedly either busy, or in the S'Haile's case, most exhausted. Nobody could have informed you."


      Spock's eyes flashed for a moment. "He was down there with Sorek all night? He's mine! I must get him back."


      Tavin stepped between Spock and the door quickly. "Khart-lan, it is the undisputed knowledge of every member, not only of the crew of this ship, but of Starfleet itself, that you and he are mated. And I can assure you that Hassu Sorek has no designs on S'Haile McCoy."


      Spock made the attempt to go around Tavin, but the First Officer refused to move. He realized that by doing this, he was making Spock descend even more quickly into the plak tow, but he needed to protect the Doctor.


      Spock felt the fires of jealousy consuming him. Green began to swim before his eyes, and on the heels of the jealous fires, came those of protection, and those of need. "LEONARD!" He cried out in a frantic voice, as he shoved himself against Tavin with his full strength, knocking him clear onto the bridge.


      The Helmsman rose to his feet as he saw the two fighting officers come in from the ready room. Tavin was tripped to the ground and as he went to help him, he heard a soft, "No, call Security, then engineering, now Ot-lan."


      The young Vulcan still confused, he obeyed the order, initiating the bridge comm. "Tash-svitan na'shar'es."


      The deep Vulcan voice came over the comm. in an accent hailing from Vulcana Regar. “Nam-tor nash shar'es, stariben Varisk."


      "Tra-lan Varisk, the Khart-lan is attacking the Zhel-lan, come quickly."


      "I will be there shortly." The comm. link was cut and the Lieutenant quickly made way with his other call, watching as Tavin kept at trying to draw Spock back into the ready room, and most importantly, keep him confined to the bridge.


      "Tash-svitan na'Mish-shal."


      The reply was expedient, even considering Vulcan efficiency levels. "Nam-tor nash Mish-shal, stariben Satuk."


      "Mishek, Zhel-lan Tavin ordered me to call you. It is about the Khart-lan-"


      "Tell the Zhel-lan everything is prepared." The comm. was abruptly cut and the Lieutenant looked back at the two fighting Vulcans. Spock was holding Tavin captive against the wall. Suddenly, the turbolift doors opened and Varisk and a second security guard entered the bridge. They held no weapons in their hands as they both launched themselves at Spock, trying to pry him away from Tavin. The guard took up position between them, while Varisk delivered to'tsu'k'hy to Spock, who slumped immediately forward.


      Tavin pushed pashed the security guard to address Varisk, his order simple "Na'Mish-shal, Tra-lan."


      "Ha, Zhel-lan," was the serious response, as Varisk lifted Spock into his arms and went towards the turbolift. The doors opened, and the two guards and the unconscious body of the Captain entered, leaving the bridge behind.


      Tavin adjusted his uniform quickly and headed towards the Jeffries tube that connected the bridge to the other decks. As he began to climb, he called to the Lieutenant. "Ot-lan, I am going to sickbay. You have the bridge, and for the next several hours, do not contact me, security, engineering, or sickbay." With that, he disappeared into the tube.


      And dawning came upon the Lieutenant, and he hoped to himself that when his first time came, it would be nothing like this.



      McCoy had just walked into sickbay and had immediately found his way to T'Lana's beside. He pulled up the chair Sorek had used the evening before and sat down, examining the vital signs. His instinct was to reach out to take her wrist and check manually, but he also knew her healing trance was precarious at best, and she would not respond positively to such at touch. It was one of the things he regretted most about serving onboard an all-Vulcan ship.


      He heard soft footfall behind him and he turned to meet the eyes of Sorek. "I believed you would be here, S'Haile," he said quietly. "Her vitals are strong, and if her trance is undisturbed, she should make a full recovery."


      "I can't believe I messed up on the serum."


      "It is understandable. You have not been yourself, S'Haile. You could no more fully concentrate on this, than you could on the warp core. And it was my responsibility to have checked the formula before administration, and I did not."


      "It isn't your job to hold my hand over medical matters; dammit I'm a doctor too. Wait a minute," McCoy paused, his brow furrowing as he met Sorek's eyes, "What do you mean I haven't been myself?"


      "That is of what we must speak, now, S'Haile."


      "Well, Sorek just spit it out."


      "Since these are words, not saliva, I cannot 'spit it out.' As well, you know Vulcans are only capable of producing saliva when food is within the oral cavity."


      McCoy sighed; this was another thing he regretted about serving on an all-Vulcan ship. "I mean, just tell me."


      "I cannot in this area; we must discuss in my office."


      "All right, Sorek." McCoy rose from his chair and followed as the Vulcan stepped toward the medical office. And McCoy's gut was telling him he definitely wasn't going to like this.



      When the turbolift doors opened to reveal Main Engineering, Varisk stepped out, holding the unconscious Spock gently in his arms. His security assistant trailed only slightly behind.


      Satuk looked up from his office to see them and came quickly, offering his arms to Varisk, so the Captain could be given over. "I was unaware it was the Captain's Time," he said to the engineer as they walked towards the secluded area in the back level of the engineering offices.


      "Had it not been for perceptions on the part of Hassu Sorek, I doubt highly any of us would have been aware." The three men arrived at an area, which resembled a closet. Varisk outstretched his palm and placed it beside the door. The door, in turn, slid open, revealing a locker. Numerous sets of lirpa and Traditional Mating guard costumes were found inside.


      Satuk turned towards the security assistant, handing him the Captain's body, which the young man lifted with ease. "Take him to the chamber and make him comfortable. I will be there to tend to him in ten point three minutes. When he is there, return to Security and take over the station. Tra-lan Varisk will be quite indisposed."


      "Ha, Mishek," he replied, walking down another corridor and out of sight.


      Satuk turned back to Varisk as he reached for the costumes. "It is now time that our duty as Vulcans overrides our duty as Starfleet officers. Come, we must change."



      "S'Haile, would you like some tea?" Sorek asked, with almost Terran politeness, a surefire signal that something was very wrong.


      "No, I'd ask for bourbon, but if this is some sort of a medical emergency, I'd prefer to stay sober." McCoy sat down and rested his hands in his lap, looking up at Sorek.


      "An interesting choice of words, S'Haile." Sorek paused as he picked up the data padd, not quite certain how to explain this to a Terran.


      He was spared that decision when the doors to his office slid open to reveal Tavin, his ears and face somewhat flushed green and his hair mussed. "The Khart-lan has entered the plak tow, Hassu."


      McCoy's eyes went wide as he stood from his chair, his head spinning around to look at Tavin. "HE'S WHAT?!?!?!"


      Tavin looked from McCoy to Sorek. His eyes were incredulous and his voice was flat. "You have not yet told him?"


      "Medical matters caused unforeseen events, Zhel-lan, and I had assumed we would have more time. I was just about to tell him. How deeply has he progressed?"


      "He has readied himself to fight for the S'Haile, and he seems particularly threatened by thee, Hassu."


      Sorek raised his eyebrow and remained silent for a long moment. "I suppose it is logical, in the ways of the Ancients."


      "Excuse me, gentlemen," came the response from McCoy, whose features had quickly descended from surprise into concern and fear. "Would one of you like to let me know exactly what the Hell's going on, and then more importantly, take me to him?"


      Tavin and Sorek exchanged a glance, and then Sorek turned towards McCoy. "S'Haile, your adun has entered the pon farr. More accurately, he has progressed past the mere pon farr, which is the beginning stage, into the deeper and more dangerous stage of plak tow, the blood fever."


      "You mean like what happened with T'Pring and Jim?"


      Sorek and Tavin exchanged another glance. This would not be easy to explain. "Not precisely, S'Haile. Although I am certain the Khart-lan was under the effects of the blood fever during that time, and the official reports support that, it is an entirely different situation. T'Pring and the Khart-lan were to be bonded, they had not yet, and she decided to choose another, which resulted in the fight between himself and Khart-lan Kirk, of which you are much more knowledgeable than I. You and the Khart-lan are already bonded, which needs no ceremony to deal with this. It is also impossible for you to choose a challenge in this situation."


      "And I don't want one," McCoy chimed in.


      Tavin's expression changed briefly to unexpected disapproval of how McCoy was reacting. Sorek's expression implored him to be tolerant. "Nor would we expect you to desire one, S'Haile, you bonded with him willingly and not in pon farr."


      "So, can I go to him now?"


      Sorek's eyebrow crept up towards his bangs. "S'Haile, may I ask what the Khart-lan has explained to you regarding this time?"


      McCoy could feel the eyes of both Vulcans focused on him, and that certainly didn't make the situation of talking about his and Spock's sex life any easier. "That his emotional control breaks and he can't control himself or his sexual urges for the entire time of the pon farr, and that it occurs once every seven years and requires a bond to exist between partners who undergo it together."


      "Oekon! Hassu, certainly the S'Haile cannot be serious regarding this matter." Tavin's voice cut through the room.


      Sorek glanced back over at Tavin, punctuating his words carefully. "I am certain the S'Haile would not use this time for exaggeration or humor." He returned his attention to McCoy. "He described nothing else to you?"


      McCoy's forehead creased in momentary concentration. "Not that I can remember. Is it that important, Sorek? I mean it's a bit late for explanations. I should probably just go to our quarters and help him out."


      "It is not that simple, S'Haile. Firstly, there is much that needs to be done to prepare you for this. And secondly, the Khart-lan is not in your quarters."


      "You didn't put him in the brig!"


      "No, he is not in the brig, either. We have him safe and under surveillance."




      "That is a secondary matter, S'Haile." Sorek punctuated his words with the tone he knew McCoy would recognize as medical urgency. "The primary matter is preparing you for that which is to come."


      A soft sigh escaped McCoy's lips as he acknowledged that. "You're right, of course. What do you need to do to prepare me?"


      "You will need to take a shower, firstly, and not a sonic one. You will need to use water and cleanse yourself with a certain herbal soap." Sorek walked to the back of his office and opened a closet door, which McCoy not only had not known had existed, but was certain had not existed in his own office on the Enterprise.


      Sorek removed a towel and a small bar of soap with Vulcan writing engraved in it. He handed them to McCoy. "You are aware of the location of the water showers, S'Haile. Do not take more time than necessary in there. Time is of the essence."


      McCoy took the soap and towel and looked at them, then up at Sorek and Tavin, and he sighed again, before heading off towards the showers near the patient wards.


      Sorek turned to Tavin and said quietly. "We have much work to do in precious little time, Zhel-lan."



      McCoy stood under the hot water, allowing it to cleanse all of the nervous sweat from his body. He began to rub the soap over his body, sighing once more as the scent of the thing reached his nose. The blasted thing was just too strong. One day, he vowed he would find a way of increasing Vulcan olfactory capabilities; jut not today. He willed himself to concentrate simply on the task of cleansing himself.


      He enjoyed hot water, but the thought that two Vulcans were waiting for him afterwards, and that neither of them were Spock, was just the situation to keep him from enjoying the sensations.


      He shut off the water and toweled off his hair and the excess water from his limbs. Then he wrapped the towel around his waist. He was simply thankful that the showers were so close to Sorek's office. When he stepped out of the shower, he noticed that the two Vulcans were now simply waiting for him in the doorway. He sighed again. This would be a long morning.



      Tavin's eyebrow rose as he saw McCoy come towards them. In his line of work, as well as in his home lifestyle, there was very little interaction with humans, and thus he had never even seen one without a shirt before. "Shaik," he said aloud, which earned him a glance from Sorek and a "Nam-tor ish-veh Terrasu, Zhel-lan."


      Sorek stepped towards McCoy, directing him towards the room that came off the side of the shower area. He pulled up a chair and motioned for the human to seat himself.


      McCoy did as he was bade and folded his hands in his lap, after making certain his towel was carefully covering his waist. He looked up expectantly at Sorek. "Now what?"


      Sorek stood before McCoy, giving him a look of what could almost be sympathy. "Now, the Zhel-lan and I must prepare you for the Khart-lan."


      McCoy looked incredulous. "Prepare me? Sort of like the 'Son, on this, the day of your wedding and soon to be honeymoon' kind of preparation?"


      "Not precisely, S'Haile. Although we shall instruct you during this time, the preparation is of a more...physical nature." As he spoke, Sorek had slowly been making his way back to the closet, where he began to gather several bottles of Vulcan design. He began to hand them to Tavin with an instruction in Vulcan, who then began to read the labels.


      McCoy's eyes widened slightly, as the words registered in his mind. "Sorek, I don't think I like the idea of where this is going."


      "It is necessary, S'Haile. You are Terran; you lack a certain pheromone that would make the pon farr easier for both the Khart-lan and yourself, and it is necessary to replicate it on your person.


      McCoy sighed softly. He knew that there was no chance of him convincing the Vulcans to let him do it by himself, and if they said the process was necessary, then it was necessary, and he was unwilling to take the risk of causing Spock's death because of his own stubbornness. "Do I have to watch?"


      Although his face would never betray it, Sorek did sympathize with McCoy. "No, S'Haile, you may keep your eyes closed, and if you wish, I could enter a meld with you to alter your perceptions until it is time for you to join with your mate."


      McCoy shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, Sorek, but I'll just handle this my own way." His eyes slipped shut and he vowed not to open them again until Sorek said it was time to see Spock.


      Sorek exchanged a glance with Tavin and then reached for the towel around McCoy's waist.



      Dressed as guards from a Vulcan wedding party, Satuk and Varisk entered into the room prepared for Spock. The Captain had been placed atop the pillowed bed in the center of the room and still remained unconscious. His black meditation robe lay folded on the bed beside him.


      The room was painted with the deep reds of their home world. A table in the back was covered in fruits and beverages. A water shower was equipped in the back and in the far corner, a meditation mat and fire pot were set up. The computer was programmed to play the Ancient music of mating and the floors were covered with native sand. A small chest beside the table was filled with bottles from Vulcan, to help with the ordeal. The lighting was set to a low setting, as the pon farr would make light painful. The air was hot and dry. A mirror lined the wall near the shower, reflecting the entire space.


      Although it was not the same as being on T’Khasi to satisfy the burning, it was close. And a Vulcan male in pon farr was not able to tell the difference. Considering the personnel, it had been tested time and again, and the Time had always been completed.


      Varisk, considerably younger than Satuk, was wary as they stood guard just within the room. Although he knew that the room was being monitored for safety precaution, and that there was a force field to protect them, the illogical terror was in the back of his mind. He had been barely able to overtake the Captain on the bridge earlier. Now, he was confined, stripped of all logic, and quite near the plak tow. Risk to his person was possible. And he did not want to have to use the weapon. Varisk’s hands tightened around the lirpah.


      Fortunately, the Captain did not seem to notice the presence of the two guards. The nerve pinch had taken its toll on his body, worn down by lack of both nourishment and rest. Hopefully he would not awaken before McCoy arrived, as Spock would undoubtedly try to fight or mate. Varisk was uncertain of which he would choose without his logic, but he did not want to be involved with either.



      Sorek finished closing the clasp of the Vulcan robe around McCoy’s body. He had to admit a small swelling of pride. He and Tavin had done exceedingly well in their task of preparation. McCoy was now dressed in a black Vulcan robe, similar to those of the sacrifices to the Ancient Ones. His skin had been anointed with the oils that would give Spock a familiar scent to ground him. He had been prepared internally for the joining. And he had been injected with vitamins for his vitality, as well as the pheromone that would allow for Spock to take his plak tow to completion.


      With a glance at Tavin, he shook the Doctor’s shoulder. McCoy had not moved during the entirety of the preparations. After a moment, the human opened his eyes, looking around cautiously. “We done?”


      “Yes, S’Haile. We have completed the preparations. It is time to take you to the Khart-lan.” Sorek helped the doctor to his feet. McCoy nearly stumbled, but then caught his bearings. He waved off the two Vulcans beside him in their offered help. “I’ll be fine. Where is he?”


      Sorek glanced at Tavin again. “I will take him. Alert them that we are going.”


      Tavin nodded slightly, and when the two had exited the sickbay, hit an intercom on the wall. “Mishek, sarlah au.” He clicked the intercom off when he heard a simple “Nafai-tor,” in response. His part in this was complete. It was now in the hands of the Hassu, and the S’Haile. Turning on his heels, he headed for the bridge, to take over the duties that Spock would undoubtedly miss.



      McCoy bled embarrassment as he and Sorek rode the turbolift down to the secret room in engineering. Sorek did his best to ignore the emotions, but realized he should reassure him. “S’Haile, the Khart-lan will not hurt you. And the fever should pass in approximately one week.”


      McCoy nodded. The turbolift stopped, and Sorek led him into Engineering. As they walked, the sound of a gong accompanied. McCoy tried his best to not think about the last time he had heard that particular sound. They went throughout Engineering and stopped at a back room. McCoy was fairly certain that there had been no similar structure on the Enterprise. Sorek stilled him and entered, taking the attention of Satuk. “Vesht lasha ish-veh,” he said solemnly, gesturing towards the human.


      Satuk nodded his head in acknowledgement, and pointed his lirpah at McCoy. “Come.”


      McCoy drew in a deep breath and stepped forward. With a last glance at Sorek, he entered the room, watching as the Security Chief nodded, and then left. The doors suddenly shut, and locked, the click drowned out by the echoing gongs.


      Cautiously, the human approached the unconscious form of Spock. No response from the Vulcan; perhaps he was sleeping. But as he bent over him, Spock’s eyes flew open. He made a grab at the doctor, taking hold of his wrist in a way that nearly broke it, but did not clench further. He paused, regarding him curiously, and then sniffed cautiously. No recognition entered the dark eyes, but something akin to need. He pulled the human down beside him, and licked at his neck. Apparently finding what he wanted, his hands began to tear at the robe.


      It hurt McCoy to see his bondmate this way; the logic stripped away from his mind, taken over completely by his body’s needs. Although he took immense pleasure in seeing Spock express emotions, this was more than he felt he could take. He closed his eyes as Spock’s hands moved over his body, and when the warm air hit his skin, he knew he was nude.


      During that time, the Vulcan ripped his own uniform from his body, and lunged upon the human. His mouth searched over his body, tasting, inhaling, but not quite pleasuring. And when he thought Spock would move to take, he felt a hot hand on his face. His eyes opened, taking in the sight of Spock’s dark ones, searching. And the familiar touch of mind followed. McCoy allowed Spock’s thoughts to carry him into the flames. And when it was done, and they were open, what small amount of restraint Spock had displayed disappeared. The two descended into a world of lust, and touch, and taste, and sensation, with no other awareness. There was nothing beyond the heat of one another’s skin, four searching hands, two thirsting mouths, and very needy flesh. Just as it was in the time of the Ancients.



      In another room hidden in Engineering, Sorek sat, watching through a two-way mirror. He had to make certain that Spock, in his madness did not hurt the human, and in case of a medical emergency, he was close enough to tend to it immediately. As such, he did not believe his voyeurism inappropriate, although he did silently mourn their lack of privacy.


      All appeared to be going as needed, and although Sorek, as a modern Vulcan, did not believe in a higher being, he was thankful. He, as Hassu, had been chosen as their attendant. Spock was his Captain, and to him he was loyal, and he held an, perhaps some would say, unhealthy affection for McCoy. He would keep them both safe.


      And, Sorek though to himself from the small back room, it is most fortunate that this Time comes only once every seven years. If it came any more frequently, the ship would never have time for exploration.



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