The Trust of a Bonding

by
K.V. Wylie
1999

At her arrival he courteously shut off the computer terminal, though she had long since ceased to be polite to him.  Forty-four seasons of a marriage consummated for duty's sake had eroded all but the most token of gestures.  Still, he was her husband.  Complete possession of a property meant something to her, enough to give her dark eyes an unVulcan flash as she regarded the papers on his desk.

"Your plans are unchanged, Husband?"

"This is for the good of many," he replied.

"He is Human.  He does not know our world."

"I will tell him all I know.  The possibility that he can help is not minimal, Sah'Sheer.  He is gifted."   He sensed her disdain through their bond and flinched.

She crossed the room to a window where the wind blew endless sand patterns on the glass.  "Many would say you act in desperation."

"Do many say that?  Thine own mother approves."

She whirled around.  "I will not stay to witness this!"

Several thoughts went through his mind.  Not a threat, for he would not seek her for four seasons.  Not an ultimatum for he had long decided on this.

"You must do as you choose," he sat and averted his eyes, to see no offence, to give none.

She left him alone in his darkening room.  It was not until evening, when he lay down in an empty bed - for not even Vulcans prefer to sleep alone - that he allowed the full consideration of her absence to affect him.  It affected him, oddly, not at all.

---

Leonard McCoy trudged into his office and fell into his chair.  It had been a long, fruitless day, more useless than  usual.  He'd just finished treating a cadet who had, of all things, burned his lips on an electron wrench.  The patient before that one had discovered a new way of entering a top-hatch shuttle - by plummeting into it from a catwalk overhead.

He leaned his elbows onto his desk, which knocked over a rather tall stack of tapes.

"It never ends," he muttered, unable to find a place to rest his head.

The lab door swished open.  McCoy heard voices, a casual tone and a lower, precise voice.  He stilled in the chair.

"I'm not here," he whispered, trying to send the comment telepathically.  If Vulcans could send mental pages of technical journals through space and time, he should be able to manage three words over six feet.

It didn't work.  His office door opened and Spock entered, followed by James Kirk.

"Look, I'm not -" he started but was interrupted by the Vulcan.

"Medical analyses of specimens 133D through 146A are still pending, Doctor.  As well, your Quality and Safety Assessments are 43.7 hours overdue.  My evaluations cannot be completed until full information from your Medical Department has been forwarded.  Such inefficiency -"

"I'm not here."

The Vulcan eyed him.  "When will the overdue information be available?"

"I'm not here!" McCoy repeated.  "This is an empty chair.  You don't see me.  I'm anywhere else but I'm not here right now."

Spock glanced at Kirk but the Captain was blandly inspecting the floor.

"Get a tricorder," McCoy said, "and if I actually register, I'll discuss the overdue reports with you.   However," the doctor closed his eyes.  "I can't see a thing myself.  I don't even think the lights are on in here."

"They are certainly not on somewhere," Spock said as he deposited more tapes on McCoy's desk.

"He'll get the tricorder," Kirk said after the Vulcan had left.

"If for no other reason than to irritate me," McCoy grumbled.

"I've been waiting on some of your reports too, Bones."

"How do you know they're my reports?  Ever since Starfleet started this diversification process, my job description's gone through a chopping block.  I've got seven `counsellors' suddenly using my desk, ready to argue every detail of everything I do.  I do six page reports only to find they're not part of my job anymore.  Half the stuff I've done lately had been a duplication of someone else's work.  The other half, well, I didn't know I was still supposed to do."

Kirk smiled.  "I thought you always complained that you were overworked."

McCoy scowled.  "You know the old phrase about too many cooks.  Didn't Starfleet toy with the idea of splitting up my job before?"

"It was phasing out just as I received command of the Enterprise," Kirk said.  "I remember that there was an on-board psychiatrist for a couple of months.  Every time we went to alert status, she'd haunt the bridge, observing `crew reactions to elevated stress'."

"Now they call it Personalized Adaptation and Integration in Closed-Ship Environments," McCoy said. "Whatever the hell that means."

"The new crewmembers are getting younger.  Starfleet admissions policy is changing.  I think they're trying to balance individual strengths and abilities right from day one," Kirk said.  "It's not a bad idea, Bones.  I can think of a few problems that could have been avoided over the years with this policy."

"Thanks," McCoy retorted.  "Now I even feel useful in retrospect.  Was that your point in stopping here today?  To cheer me up?"

"Actually, Bones, I've still got that damn headache."

McCoy frowned then picked up a small scanner.

"Bones," Kirk started.

"We've been on a milk run for six weeks.  You have nothing to do.  How can you possibly have a headache?"

"I just got new orders.  We've been diverted to Vulcan."

"So?"

"It's the only place we'll get any R&R for the next three months."

"I may just get a headache.  Vulcan's about as exciting as an ant farm," McCoy handed Kirk a couple of pills.

"I suppose I should take this opportunity to catch up on my sleep," Kirk sighed tiredly.

"Excuse me, Jim, but isn't that what you have been doing?"

Kirk stood.  "Of course this milk run should also give you a chance to get caught up on all those back reports, RIGHT?"

"They're practically on your desk," McCoy said as he closed his eyes and laid his head down on this arms.  "You know paperwork is my endless joy."

---

The bridge was boringly quiet.  Kirk sat in the command chair and contemplated the main screen.  He was hard-pressed to find any evidence of movement.  The stars seemed absolutely still.

He wasn't sure he liked training voyages, the green runs, the monotonous drilling, the endlessly-repeated routines, constant inspections of nervous cadets and their departments.   They were allowed light science duties (but if they had to check out one more pulsar, he was going to turn the ship's phasers on it).  Their flight path was locked in and no deviations were allowed.  The ceiling on speed was warp three.  (Warp three point one would require Kirk writing an interminable explanation.)  And those thousand department briefings, all of which Kirk was expected to attend, made him itch for even a Klingon ship to fall out of the sky.

He had to admit, though, he was one of the proponents of hands-on training.  The cadets on board had been hand-picked, only those supposedly capable of extended stress and demands of Starship duty, the highest notation possible on Academy records.  Still, it was stifling.  Kirk wasn't used to sitting on his...seat, knowing the high point of his day would be an uninterrupted lunch.

Spock came onto the bridge followed by a string of cadets and one of the new counsellors, a tall women wearing medical blue.

Kirk watched the group gather around the science station, hushed under the tones of the Vulcan's low voice.  None of them even dared fidget.  Kirk could imagine their hearts palpitating even as he watched.  The counsellor stood apart and watched without appearing to watch.

Eyeing them, Kirk sympathized with McCoy's lament of feeling redundant.  The medical section bombardment had ripped McCoy's job description into hamster litter.  On the other hand these training runs usually resulted in one or two cadets showing up in tears in the Captain's quarters with a guilty resignation and an apology delivered in a shaky voice.  Kirk had come to expect these scenes.  But this run there had been none.  No tearful ensigns.  No resignations.  No apologies.  These counsellors were doing something right.  Kirk knew this was no reflection on McCoy, who simply did not have the time to follow all these groups of cadets around ship.  Nor had it ever been expected of him to do so.  Still, it must be disheartening to have these seven counsellors waltz in and just take over.  Kirk made a mental note to spend some time trying to cheer McCoy up.

The Vulcan moved to the weapons console and the group followed him frantically.  Kirk noticed Uhura and Sulu exchange sympathetic smiles.

"Status, Mr. Sulu," Kirk asked.

"Seventeen hours to Vulcan, Captain."

Kirk nodded his thanks as he rose.  He circled the bridge, trying to look interested at the routine readouts.  Finally, at the turbo-lift, he said,  "Uhura, you have the con.  I'll be...at lunch."

She smiled as he added, "Be sure to interrupt me for any reason."

---

"I see you brought a tricorder," McCoy said as Spock entered sickbay.

"Your reports are now fifty-one point two six hours overdue, doctor."

"Everything's all done.  I left them on my desk.  Help yourself."  McCoy strode out of the room, leaving the Vulcan to ponder ten stacks of unlabelled tapes sitting twenty-eight deep in a long row.

---

"Orbit attained, Captain," said Sulu.

"Vulcan acknowledges our flight path and welcomes our ship," Uhura added.

"Fine.  Shore Leave is now officially declared," Kirk said, noting the trainees' heads all perking up.  "This is wonderful.  Vulcan has no bars, no theatres, no parks, no shopping districts, no shade, no shows, and no single people.  Let the fun begin."  He caught Spock's oddly-chagrined look.

"I must differ with your assessment, Captain," the Vulcan said.  "There is a tourist bar in the capital city."

"Which serves only altair water," Kirk cut in.

"While I admit there are no theatres such as on earth, there are galleries and music halls."

"If you can call one hundred kissars music," Kirk added with a smile.  An eyebrow rose.  Kirk was beginning to understand why McCoy baited Spock so much.

"We do have open spaces which would qualify as park-land since they are protected from development."

"No trees.  All sand and wind."

"There are many market places."

"They sell fruits.  Just fruits."

"However, shade is rather lacking," Spock finished.

"Your planet's two trees do try," came McCoy's voice as he stepped off the turbo-lift.  He looked over at the Captain.  "Your announcement of shore leave sent my interns running like hell for the transporter room, poor buggars.  Wait 'til they feel the heat of midday Vulcan."

"It isn't that bad, Bones," Kirk said, catching Spock's dour expression.  "After all, there's a bar in Shi'Kaver."

"Such as it is," McCoy grumbled.

Uhura's board beeped.  She turned to McCoy. "Doctor, I have a surface call for you from the Shi'Kaver Teaching Medical Facility."

McCoy looked surprised.  "I don't know anyone there."

"Coming on visual," Uhura said.

The main screen cleared to show a tall male standing beside a desk.  He had the darkest eyes Kirk had ever seen on a Vulcan.

"Captain Kirk, my acknowledgement," he said coldly.

"Can I help you?" Kirk asked.

"I would speak with your physician, Dr. Leonard McCoy."

"I'm Dr. McCoy," the doctor stepped forward.

"I am V'Rhsal.  I have read your paper on Movement Reactive Disorders, Stardate 8309.2.  It was most interesting."

"Thank you," McCoy said in a puzzled voice.

"Have you continued research in this area since that paper?"

McCoy hesitated.  "Um...why do you wish to know?  Do I know of you?"

"We have never met, Dr. Leonard McCoy, but I have been following your research on movement disorders for six point nine
years.  I am a bio-engineer and would set up a convenient time to speak with you."

"Oh," McCoy said.

V'Rhsal waited for a moment, but when the doctor said nothing more, he continued, "I am in my office at this time, Dr. Leonard McCoy.  Will your schedule permit a meeting now?"

"I was just going on leave."

"Perhaps tomorrow?"

McCoy breathed out.  "Give your co-ordinates to our transporter room and I'll be right down."

V'Rhsal nodded and signed off without another word.

McCoy glanced at Spock.  "Do you know who the hell he is?"

"Kór V'Rhsal is a bio-engineer, doctor.  He designed the neuroscanner which you use in your examination room."

"You mean, that big thing over the table?"  McCoy questioned.  "It says Kabu-Kabu at the back."

"Nevertheless, it is Kór V'Rhsal's design.  His theories form the basis of much of your neuroplasmic equipment."

McCoy sighed tiredly.  "I only use the stuff.  I don't know where it comes from.  As for that paper he mentioned, I'm not sure I remember which one it is."

"I read it," Spock said.  "You wrote it after our experiences with he Kelvan neural field projector."

"Oh, THAT one,"  McCoy shrugged.

"I must confess I did not find it to be one of your better papers," Spock said  "Your conclusions were not entirely supported by
your evidence and your opening was vague."

McCoy's expression hardened but his voice was quiet.  "Thank you, Mr. Spock."  He disappeared into the turbo-lift.

"Curious," Spock said.  "I would be most honoured to speak with K'or V'Rhsal.  He is a brilliant scientist."

"Maybe you should join Bones down there, to give him a little moral support," Kirk said with a smile.

---

V'Rhsal's office was at the end of the longest corridor McCoy had ever walked.  "I didn't feel like hiking," he grumbled as he trudged.

He had dug out the said paper and quickly read it before beaming down and he had to agree with Spock.  He'd written it with the barest attention, hoping to get away with his report for Kirk's log and his own medical report at the same time.  He'd still been numb from Natira when they'd met up with the Kelvans.

He came to V'Rhsal's door and had raised his hand to knock when the door snapped open.

"How the hell do they manage to do that every time?" he thought to himself as he entered.

His next thought was that V'Rhsal on the screen was nothing to V'Rhsal in the flesh.  McCoy stepped in and looked up.
However, he had once stood up to T'Pau.  One bio-engineer was not going to faze him.
 
Nice to meet you, Mr. V'Rhsal," he said quickly.

The Vulcan indicated a chair.  "You are generous to attend here, Dr. Leonard McCoy," he said in earth English.

The chair had a large cushion but it was still like sitting on a rock.  McCoy tried to get comfortable, then gave up.

V'Rhsal clasped his hands behind his back.  "Is it customary for humans to ingest liquids during a meeting?"

"It's ok.  I've tasted the `liquids' on this planet."

The Vulcan sat as well.  "As I stated seven point three minutes previously, I have read your paper on Movement Reactive Disorders."

"Which is why I'm surprised to be here," McCoy admitted.

V'Rhsal regarded the doctor curiously.

"It wasn't one of my better papers," McCoy added.

"Have you revised your theory?"

"No.  I haven't really um..." McCoy looked into the expressionless eyes and said, "No."

V'Rhsal leaned forward on his desk.  "You specified the working mechanism of the Kelvan device but, unfortunately, I have not been able to duplicate the design."

"I could get the design for you, if that's all you want."

"The design is part of it," V'Rhsal said.  "Your ending conclusion stated that the reverse situation of the neural field was possible."

I believe that if normally healthy muscle function can be affected by a neural field, then normally paralysed or tetansed muscle should, in theory, respond to a strong neural field, " McCoy said.  "However, in theory, the effect would last only as long as the neural field operated.  I doubt there would be any permanent change in the muscle tissue."

V'Rhsal thought for a moment, then said, "Could cortical brain function revision with simultaneous neural field operation sustain permanent change?"

"What do you mean by brain function revision?"

V'Rhsal chose his words carefully.  "If, perhaps, you believed or were led to believe that the neural field's effects were of a healing nature, could there be permanent change in the muscle tissue?"

McCoy eyed the Vulcan.  "Mind over matter?"

"Pardon?"

"Explain it to me again.  This is an odd theory coming from a Vulcan."

"Doctor Leonard McCoy, it is your theory.  Tell me, please.  If a small neural field was created, one that allowed movement in a paralysed muscle but sporadically, over a lengthened duration of time, is it possible that brain function, as it adjusts to seeing in evidence such prolonged muscle movement, could affect or even complete the healing process?"

"Seeing is believing,"  McCoy said.  "Well, I can't discount it.  I've seen people do things considered medically impossible simply because they believed they could do them.  But I'm afraid it doesn't happen too often."

"It does not...happen at all on this planet," V'Rhsal said.  "We are a logical people.  We do not question accepted reality.  If a muscle has suffered in medical opinion permanent damage, we will not attempt further healing.  I have heard that some humans go beyond what their doctors thought possible.  You wrote papers of seventeen such cases you had been personally involved with.  You suspected that belief in being healed led the way to physical healing.  You also suspected, but could not prove, that adult brain tissue can, unlike medical theory, actually repair itself under proper conditions."

"There could be many factors besides simple belief.  What is this all leading to?"

V'Rhsal was quiet for a moment, his black eyes focused on a point somewhere beyond McCoy's chair.  At length, he continued,  "Do you know of the Vulcan disease Khlabar?"

McCoy thought for a second.  "Um, affects spinal cord, the cerebellum.  Certain nerve endings, mainly those that respond to 6-hydroseron.  A very painful and slow progression of nerve degeneration.  Some personality changes too if I recall."

"You are correct,"  V'Rhsal said.  "Khlabar affects twenty percent of Vulcans in their second century and that percentage is increasing.  It can progress very slowly with only symptomatic activity for some time but, most often, onset is rapid.  Those who suffer become unable to walk or co-ordinate their hands.  Speech can be affected as well as short-term memory.  We have palliative measures, nothing more.  Prognosis is always death."

McCoy eyed V'Rhsal.  "This disease has been around for two centuries."

"And we have searched for a cure for two hundred years in vain."

"Vulcan research has a tendency to be very thorough."

"But logical," V'Rhsal said.  "We cannot go beyond our logic.  Your papers indicate a unique creativity.  You do not seem bound by logic."

McCoy tried to decide whether or not he'd been insulted.  "Mr. V'Rhsal, a neural field would be another palliative measure.  It could only slow down degeneration."

"It should be possible to reverse progression, if I understand your paper correctly."

"Now wait a minute.  I wrote--"

"You wrote about a neural field's effects overcoming central nervous system impulses, an outside stimulation bypassing the body's own internal messages.  Prolonged outside stimulation could, in your theory, permanently affect central nervous system messages."

"The term is could," McCoy emphasized.

"Is there reason to discount the possibility?"

"Logic suggests..." McCoy trailed off at a flash in V'Rhsal's eyes.

"You are correct, Dr. Leonard McCoy.  It is not logical."

McCoy tapped the top of the desk.  "Mr. V'Rhsal, since you already understand this illogical premise, you have the capabilities
to carry this through.  I'm confused as to why you've asked me here."

"I have no misconception about my capabilities.  If I attempt to progress this theory alone, or in partnership with another Vulcan, probability is ninety three point seven percent that I will fail.  No other Vulcan of my association can understand the 'logic' of this theory."

"Gee, that's kind of hard to believe," McCoy said with a bland face.

V'Rhsal looked hard at McCoy.  "I am aware of your accomplishments and capabilities.  You understand the Kelvan neural field and have felt it's effects and you are a medical doctor with knowledge of Khlabar.  I can build whatever sort of neural field you would wish.  In partnership, I believe we could accomplish an objective."

"What objective?  Cure?"

V'Rhsal nodded, oblivious to McCoy's scepticism.  "Research facilities here are expansive, Dr. Leonard McCoy.   As well, I have a laboratory in my home which I would adapt or expand in any way you deem necessary.  Vulcan Science Academy will advance funding for a three year duration."

"Take their money.  I think you can do this on your own," McCoy said.

"I was not clear.  The Science Academy will advance the money only to you."

At McCoy's silence, V'Rhsal continued, "You are a physician.  I am an engineer.  Logically, we are research-compatible."

McCoy opened his mouth, then realized he had nothing to say and closed it again.

"I do not know how humans understand time.  Is a three year duration prolonged for you?  If you have other commitments, there is no reason for you not to fulfil them as well.  We can adjust our schedules.  What you will start for me, I can sustain until you return.  Our partnership has a success probability of eighty-nine point nine percent of either concluding in a cure or some positive reversal technique."

"This is important to you personally, isn't it?"  McCoy asked abruptly.  "Going to the Academy with such an entirely human theory and nothing else seems an extreme act."

V'Rhsal's voice and face were toneless.  "He who sired me died from Khlabar three seasons past.  My teacher died last year and my brother-kin shows symptoms.  In Shi'Kaver, many suffer, and they come here to this hospital to die."

McCoy looked down at the carpet.  Three years were, well, three years.

V'Rhsal came around the desk.  "Do you wish time to answer, Dr. Leonard McCoy?"

McCoy said something that surprised him very much.  "No.  I can answer you now.  I would be honoured to work with you on this."

CHAPTER TWO

McCoy gingerly picked up a sleek, black silver tube and frankly, admired it.  It was a fine-point sub-laser designed for work in cortical tissue.  A luxury item even for a Starship.  He'd never dreamed of ever seeing one or even holding one so freely.  They were exceedingly fragile and expensive instruments.

He set it down carefully and turned to face V'Rhsal, who had been watching him explore the lab.

"Tell me what you need, Dr. Leonard McCoy. and I will get it for you."

McCoy tried not to laugh.  "I can't think of anything you don't have.  My God, you've got things down I've never imagined."

It still felt unreal.  They had gone to the Academy and signed the papers for the funding.  McCoy had toured the hospital and was now in V'Rhsal's laboratory, a huge underground series of rooms below his house.  The sheer variety of V'Rhsal's equipment astounded McCoy.  He couldn't begin to guess at what half of these things were around him.  Upon closer inspection, McCoy realized that much of the equipment down here were prototypes and that no one, except their builder, had seen them either.  The Vulcan was clearly not one to rest on his previous laurels.

"Tell me, what made you decide to get into this line of work?"

V'Rhsal seemed taken aback.  "I do not know."  He handed McCoy a couple of tapes.  "I have made notes.  Being non-medically trained, I am unable to advance your theory.  Perhaps you would review.  Also, I will obtain a desk here for you, and there is a bedroom upstairs for your living quarters."

"I thought I'd look for an apartment near the hospital," McCoy said, and thought, Good Lord.  I haven't even told Jim yet!
You're crazy, doctor, though this place is a dream come true.  Things in here he'd fantasized about.

"Would it not be more convenient to stay here?"  V'Rhsal asked.

"It's your home."

"I live here, as does my wife."

"That settles it.  Women don't like having me underfoot, I know."

"She has vacated for the three year duration."

McCoy frowned.  "Why?"

"For us to work together effectively my wife must vacate the home.  I thought you understood, Dr. Leonard McCoy.  You have had extended contact with Vulcans."

"One dubious Vulcan and I'm afraid you'll still have to explain this to me."

V'Rhsal sat down.  "You have noticed that very few Vulcan-Human teams can sustain long-term partnership."

McCoy shrugged.  "I know of only three such teams.  I thought it was a matter of choice."

"It is not choice as much as biology.  Vulcan and human brains process differently.  There are chemical and electrical incompatibilities between the two thought systems.  For example, Vulcans generally sustain activity over a long period of time, without sleep or food, in order to accomplish a goal.  This is most productive.  Humans need...breaks in the activity in order to maintain efficiency.  Another example would be--"

"What does this have to do with your wife?"  McCoy cut in.

"For us to be able to work compatibly and eliminate the risk of fruitless endeavor and duplication, we will undergo mind-meld."

McCoy felt the ground leave his feet.

"We will then be able to interchange and build upon information easily and quickly.  A meld will enable us to set up a mutual rhythm or cycle of work and rest periods."

McCoy's ears filled with pounding blood.

"Hence our three year project does not have to substantially interfere with your other commitments.  While I intend to devote my time fully to this, you will have the opportunity to leave and return without our losing access to one another.  We will always have some contact.  This has been done successfully before."

McCoy swallowed.  "And your wife?"

"She will be on a Vulcan exploration ship.  She is a geologist."

"But, doesn't she mind?  Doesn't she have a bond with you?"

"We severed it," V'Rhsal said without a trace of emotion.  "It is a temporary separation.  We have been bond for forty-four seasons.  We need not return to each other for four years."  This last came out rather quietly.  "I will not explain to you why that is so."

"I already know," McCoy said.

V'Rhsal looked at him.  "I see.  Then, perhaps, you understand why we had to sever the bond."

"No, sorry, I don't."

"To meld while she was bond to me would affect you, Dr. Leonard McCoy.  It would impair our meld.  You would have contact not only with me but with her as well.  You and I would not be able to adjust to one another as her presence would affect us.  Our communications within each other would be distorted by her thoughts and experiences.  Our separation is temporary and possible benefits certainly outweigh any other variables.  We have no children.  There is no reason against the separation."

McCoy stared back, aghast.

V'Rhsal pulled up a chair and sat in front of the doctor.  "And you would also have to separate from sexual and emotional encounters with your wife as their effects would certainly reach me through you.  The reaction on me would be...disturbing."

"I have no wife."

"Then there should be no problem."

"There IS a problem.  Are you saying that I would have to be celibate for THREE YEARS?"

V'Rhsal sat back.  "Is three years too long for you to abstain?"

"I don't...I mean...well, SURE, it's nothing to you, going seven years but..."  McCoy fumbled.

"Vulcans do not abstain entirely and my cycle is eight years, not seven."

McCoy got up and paced the room.  "Three years!  That's one thousand and sixty-eight days!  Good Lord, I'll be fifty-five!
What about, once in a while, could I even just--"

"No," V'Rhsal said quickly.

A hologram on the table caught McCoy's eye.  The man in the picture was older but the features were V'Rhsal's.

"He who was my father," V'Rhsal said, as if reading McCoy's thoughts.  Of course he would be doing so soon enough, McCoy thought glumly.

"It was taken before we knew he was dying."

McCoy, surprised at the lack of feeling in the remark, looked up and caught a fleeting moment of sadness in the dark eyes.

"I'm sorry," McCoy said.  "My father was very sick too before he died."  He returned to where the Vulcan was.

"Do what is necessary,"  McCoy said softly.

"Art thou prepared?"

McCoy sat, knowing it would be better to stay off his feet.  "What do I do?"

V'Rhsal moved his chair closer.  "Simply answer.  Art thou prepared?"

McCoy met the dark eyes.  "Yes."

He closed his eyes as the long fingers touched his temples.  He could hear the Vulcan's steady breathing and the gusts of wind-blown sand outside.

It felt cold at first.  A tendril probed down through his conscious mind, like a dangling icy thread.  His first impression of the Vulcan had been correct.  His own mind was like water lapping against the edges of the Vulcan's mental glacier.

V'Rhsal's voice thudded through the ice.  "Art thou ready?"

"...yes..."

McCoy submerged.  He gulped a chilled, green spasm of sea water as he fell under the surface of his own mind but the surface and waters were also the Vulcan's mind.  There was no longer any ice; all was water.  He felt the sensation of movement, yet his feet were still on the floor.  He heard the heavy throb of the cold water, and still the sand raged outside the window.  McCoy's sensation was akin to having his mouth open underwater, having it all rush down his throat and into his lungs.  He started to gag and, in his mind, came the Vulcan's voice,  "Calm thyself and open to me."

He floated into the green and took a deep breath in.

McCoy had felt the mind meld before with Spock.  Now he realized that Spock had only skimmed the barest surface.  To open to V'Rhsal fully was to see all that he was run and burst to the surface, fully exposed and naked.  The water pulled at him.  He drifted in an endless ebb of tide.

The Vulcan also lay bare and open.  McCoy turned and saw all, saw a young V'Rhsal, growing into a man, then saw his own young self, his life flowing by in the water.  He caught a glimpse of his daughter's birth, then his divorce came and went.  Places, people, Miri, Gem, Eileen, Natira, a walk with a six-foot rabbit in a deep green forest.  And he saw what was not his.  Classrooms, laboratories, dark-swept sand and hot mountains, a young girl growing and the frenzy that drew a young Vulcan male to her.  McCoy tasted the bitter bloodlust, and then he saw one Vulcan so clear he thought he could touch him.  V'Rhsal said "My teacher."  A young Vulcan was the teacher, soon ravaged by the pain of the disease.

"Can thee accept me?"

McCoy laughed acridly.  "Look at all I have done."

He felt the Vulcan again but he was warm now, the water serenity and the Vulcan close.  "I see.  Thou art Human.  I art Vulcan.  Neither better.  Neither worse.  One to the other."

McCoy felt himself smile.  Felt the Vulcan's reaction to it, to something V'Rhsal could neither do nor understand on his own.

They drew apart.  McCoy sat private in his own thoughts again, listening to the Vulcan breathing, but he also felt a strange tension.  His sense of direction was wrong.  A warm pressure was on his chest and thighs.  He broke the surface of the water and opened his eyes.

V'Rhsal's cheek lay against his own.  The Vulcan's chest rose and fell against his and the heat of the Vulcan's skin burned through his clothes.  Stranger too was the tension he hadn't identified earlier, now clear and unnerving.  He straddled the Vulcan and there were certain areas pressed very closely together.

He said haltingly, "I've experienced the mind meld before.  It was never like this."

The Vulcan pulled slowly away as if a quick movement would snap the fragile thread between them.  When the physical contact was broken, McCoy felt inward and found the Vulcan's presence, changed from a glacier to an ocean.

V'Rhsal met McCoy's eyes. "You understand pain, Leonard.  I was not wrong in this choice.  I promise you.  If you...dream it up, I will build it for you."

---

Vulcan mornings were hotter than overloaded warp engines.  James Kirk wiped the sweat from the back of his neck as he opened his communicator.  "Enterprise, this is the Captain.  Is Mr. Spock on board?"

"Yes, Captain.  Do you wish to speak with him?"

"No, Johnston.  How's the crew recall going?"

"Complement is nearly complete, Captain."

"Are you still sending signals every ten minutes through Dr. McCoy's communicator?"

"Dr. McCoy beamed up an hour ago."

Kirk blinked, then said, "And did he say why he failed to respond to his communicator signal?"

"I didn't speak with him.  I was informed of his beam--up by transporter personnel.  Captain, you have a priority three message here from Vulcan Academy regarding crew replacement."

Kirk frowned.  "What crew replacement?"

"Medical section, sir.  The rest of the message is coded to your eyes only."

"McCoy never said anything to me."

"Sorry, Captain.  That's all I have.  Do you wish to speak with Dr. McCoy?"

"No, I'll be up soon anyway.  Kirk out."

---

Leonard McCoy tapped the delete button.  His computer terminal hummed, then said, "Accessing marked files, Dr. McCoy.  Do you wish to delete marked files?"

"Yes," he said.

The computer hummed again.  "Dr. McCoy, are you sure you wish to delete marked files?"

"Yes!" McCoy repeated.

The screen flashed red.  "Warning!  All marked files will be unrecoverable.  Press escape to cancel delete request.  Any verbal command will complete erasure from memory."

"Computer, delete those damned files now or I'll set fire to your motherboard!"

The computer clicked, then said pleasantly, "Deletion complete, Dr. McCoy.  Do wish an activity log printed?"

"No, I think I'll remember that I did this."

His office door opened.  McCoy heard the inner workings of the door mechanism, something he'd never picked up before.  He heard the regular breathing, the deeper fill of a higher lung capacity, and, without turning, said, "Spock, long time no see.  I'm sure I gave you every overdue report."

The Vulcan came around to the front of the desk.  "I will refrain from commenting on that, doctor.  I need your permission to access Medical data banks for approximately one point three seven eight hours."

"All right.  I'll log it."  McCoy felt the Vulcan's steady gaze on him.  He wondered if the difference he felt inside showed outside.

"Spock, I'll bet you're really here because you've always had a secret desire to meet V'Rhsal and you're curious what the hell someone like that would want with someone like me."

"I admit that I have never met him," Spock said.  "As for the rest, I would not pry."

"Do you want to meet him?  I happen to know that he's free day after tomorrow."

"I have not asked to meet him, doctor."

"I'm inviting,  Say fourteen hundred hours."

Spock's eyebrow rose.  "Doctor, I--..."

"Spock, I'm inviting you to have some of that nasty Vulcan tea with ME.  And if V'Rhsal just happens to be around, so be it.  Does that satisfy your sense of propriety?"

"I would be honoured to have tea with you, doctor,"  Spock said so solemnly that McCoy had to work hard to keep from laughing.  "Is he due to come aboard ship?"

"No, I'll have to give you an address."  McCoy shut off his computer terminal.  "This is just my way of showing you that I have no hard feelings over that lovely little comment you made yesterday."

"As I have, of course, overlooked your overdue reports being somewhere in the midst of two hundred and eighty unlabelled tapes."

"Spock, it constantly amazes me how much we understand each other."  McCoy rose  "Is Jim on the bridge?"

"I believe the Captain is in his quarters."

"I guess he's resting up after that date he had with that trainee yesterday," McCoy said, but the joke went flat.  He met the Vulcan's dark eyes and saw that he hadn't kept this secret at all, that Spock had somehow noticed the difference, and figured it out.  "I'm going to be gone for at least a year, right off.  Maybe longer."

"But what a year it will be," Spock said gently.

McCoy started to smile.  "All this Vulcan stuff jumbled up in my head and I can still walk and chew gum at the same time.  Amazing."  He turned towards the door.  "Keep Jim from doing anything stupid, ok?"

"How?"

McCoy grinned.  "See ya for tea, Spock.  1404 Khat'vere.  Big black house."

McCoy went down the hall to the turbo-lift.  He'd never noticed all the signs on the walls before, the contrasts and the deepness of the reds, the flecks in the blues, the long scratch on an intercom panel that tapered into little ridges.  The engines had a rhythm that he could feel in the very walls, like a human's pulse.  The feel and sound of these hulls were more familiar to him anything else.

Kirk answered his door at the first buzz.  "Bones!  Where in God's name have you been?  Didn't you hear your communicator?"

"When?"  McCoy asked.

"Last night.  This morning.  Didn't they teach you at the Academy?  When you hear Mr. Whistle, you take out Mr. Communicator and flip the grid open."

"Jim...." McCoy frowned and the tone was such that Kirk lost his humour.

"Bones, the point is, we could have had someone sick or whatever."

"I didn't hear anything.  I'm sorry.  And, in case you hadn't noticed, we now have seventeen doctors on board this ship."
McCoy took a breath, and said, "I'm requesting a Leave of Absence, effective immediately.  I can be replaced with a physician from the Vulcan Medical Academy, Starfleet trained."

"Is this what that coded message was about?"  Kirk sat down, puzzled.  There was a subtle difference about the doctor, barely perceptible.  "Is something wrong, Bones?"

"I've been offered a research position.  It's quite lucrative."

"Does it have anything to do with that call you got yesterday from that, uh, engineer, Versal or something?"

"V'Rhsal,"  McCoy said.  "We've decided to partner."  In more ways that I imagined, the doctor added to himself.

"You?  With a Vulcan?  I thought you complained they never ate, never slept, never smiled, didn't know how to have a good time."

"This is something I can't pass up."  McCoy finally sat down himself.  "I've cleared my things and M'Benga's bumped up to Chief Medical Officer.  Maybe he can figure out what the C.M.O.'s allowed to do now."  McCoy looked up.  "I didn't mean to surprise you like this.  It happened quickly from my point of view too."

Kirk caught the determined look in McCoy's eyes, but there was something else, something unfamiliar that he'd never seen before.  "I...don't know what to say, Bones."

"Come down for tea with Spock day after tomorrow.  Wait until you see this lab, Jim.  It's mind-boggling.  And V'Rhsal isn't so bad.  I suppose I could get used to him.  After all, I've had lots of practice with Spock's little ways."

"Are you leaving today?"

"Right now," McCoy rose.  "I've got a lot to do.  It's going to be a busy year.  Well, three years actually."

"Three years?"  Kirk repeated quietly.

"I'll be on Vulcan for one year, then off and on for two more.  Come on, Jim.  Wish me luck."

Kirk took a few minutes before he was able to rise.  He shook McCoy's hand and said, "Well, Leonard...good luck."

CHAPTER THREEp>

Leonard McCoy sat with his chair tilted back against the frame of the nursing station doorway.  The Head Nurse was on a meal break and he took the opportunity to review her charts.  They confirmed what V'Rhsal had told him.  Whether it took six months or six years, those with Khlabar died.  The cruel part was, their minds were aware of this to the end.

After an hour, flashing green cursors seemed to be everywhere.  McCoy leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Ech'tel san e kor?"

He jumped.  A small woman stood behind him, hunched unsteadily over a walking brace.  Her face showed no emotion and no trace of the illness that was clearly wracking her body.  Only her knarled hands over the metal of the brace indicated her state.

"Ech'tel san e kor?" she repeated.

McCoy tried to translate in his mind.  "Um...K'vath."  He pulled out a chair for her.

She sat down awkwardly.  McCoy drew his chair before her so that they were on the same level.

"Yes," he said.  "I am e kor, a physician.  I am Dr. McCoy."

She studied him.  "Th'li meh!"

He smiled.  "That's because my parents were human.  What can I do for you?"

She lowered her eyes and was silent for some moments.  Finally, in a whisper, she said, "Tai sle h khro."

The pain is bad.  For a Vulcan to admit that they could no longer control their pain was, McCoy knew, a desperate statement.
"What is your name?" he asked.

"Mah'lee."

He called up her file on the computer but her medications already included a strong narcotic.

"Your meds aren't due for another two hours," he said.  "Do you wish your doctor called?"

She shook her head, then struggled to rise.

He almost touched her without thinking, a reflex to offer help.  "May I assist you?"

She shook her head firmly, as if offended, and walked back into the hall.  Her file indicated that she had been a musician, an adept and teacher of the thirty-six string kissar.  Now she could not even straighten her fingers.  Though it was ninety degrees in the hallway, she wore two thick sweaters over her dress.

McCoy watched her go, frail and bent, with slow, deliberate steps.  Her walker brace squealed insultingly as she pushed it along the floor and her legs threatened to topple her.  But she kept her head up as she placed every step.

He suddenly realized that he'd clenched his fists at the scene.  "Damn," he said, then left the nurse's station, criss-crossing the long corridors to V'Rhsal's office.

He paused as he sat at the Vulcan's computer.  It was odd, this feeling of another person hovering at the edge of his mind.  He was slowly becoming aware of perceptions that were new to him, the presence of V'Rhsal not fully connected yet not quite apart.  He had a lingering sense of where the Vulcan was, if V'Rhsal was asleep or awake.  As each hour passed, the mind- link seemed to get stronger.  V'Rhsal had told McCoy that there would be more communication within a few weeks, a mental interchange that would not be hindered by distance, but he felt flashes of it already.  Last night in V'Rhsal's lab, he'd come across a prototype scanner.  He knew what it was; it's design clear in his mind.  He worked the controls and made sense of the readings - which had all been in Vulcan.  The absolute awe had not yet diminished.

McCoy called a file onscreen, knowing how to work V'Rhsal's computer even though he had never worked with this operating system before.  All these years he'd had such a deep distrust of Vulcan mind games for Spock's few mind -melds with him had left him with utter panic and terrible nausea.  The feeling of another person crawling around his mind scared and revolted him.  Yet, here he was, easing into a mental link with a stranger who was no longer a stranger.  What was it T'Pring and Spock had said - never touching and touched?  He understood that now.  Stranger too how warm the touch was.  V'Rhsal's demeanour was hardly that of a peaceful man.  A Vulcan, McCoy felt, who could even intimidate Kirk.

McCoy blinked.  That had been his first thought of Jim since he'd left the ship.  Surprisingly, he'd had a good night's sleep, even though it was in a strange house, with new noises and with the steady drone of the ship gone.  But now the memories rose - Scotty at the doorway,  "Leonard, I've got a wee dram of stuff that will cure you of downing that brandy forever" - Jim's smile across a desk,  "Bones, the women were so..."   Yet he wasn't feeling regret.  This was like a breath of fresh air, even if it was ninety-degrees and smelled of baked sand.  He didn't feel so tired, no nagging ache in his neck, no young cadets flouncing around him with so much energy and enthusiasm.

Something nudged his mind and he knew V'Rhsal was in the hospital.  A little later the Vulcan entered the office and switched on the light.

"Leonard, you can damage your eyesight by looking at a computer screen in the dark."

McCoy shrugged.  "I was just checking your designs for a neural field projector."

V'Rhsal closed his eyes and McCoy felt a soft touch in his mind, like a flower petal settling on water.  The Vulcan said,  "The current is too strong.  The spectrum of nerves affected is too broad."  He opened his eyes and looked at the doctor for confirmation.   "If I cause you any distress, tell me."

McCoy scowled.  "This is your first real contact with humans, isn't it."

"You should now know it is so."

"Well, let me tell you.  We're a lot tougher than we look.  Of course you'll tell me if YOU experience any distress."

V'Rhsal studied McCoy, unsure of the doctor's humour. "I can't turn off my emotions," McCoy added.  "I know they feel strange to you."

"You are human, Leonard.  It is expected."

"Anyway," McCoy stood, "I think we should start with rats."

"Rats?"  V'Rhsal stood too.

"You know, like Vulcan namachas.  Small white namachas with tails.  I want to start a family of them, bred to get Khlabar disease."

"I was not aware the disease affected terran rats."

"I can duplicate the symptoms."

"Should you not use Vulcan namachas, Leonard?"

McCoy shook his head.  "Khlabar reminds me of something else I've seen.  By the way, isn't there a geneticist researching the DNA structure for the gene at fault?"

"Yes, her name is T'Shyll."

"Do you think she'd take some time to talk with me?"

"I will arrange it," V'Rhsal said.

McCoy started for the door.  "Well, I'm off to get some rats.  I think I'll start with three and build a little family.  Oh, I have two friends dropping by tomorrow afternoon.  I hope you don't mind but it's the last time I'll see them for a while."

"Is Captain James Kirk one of them?"

"He's not unknown on Vulcan, is he?"  McCoy tried not to smile.  The display, or lack of it, made no difference.  V'Rhsal twitched, affected.

"Are you sure about this?" McCoy queried softly.

The Vulcan shook his head.  "You are concerned about me," he said with a trace of disgust.

"Is that a problem?"

"Your concern should rest solely with yourself and this research.  You have no responsibility to me."

McCoy paused before replying.  "Sorry.  I'll try to...restrain my worrying."

"Such an endeavour would be in our interests."  V'Rhsal sat at his computer and started working.

---

Kirk had closed his eyes during beam-down, having beamed down to Vulcan enough times to know the wisdom of doing so.  He had barely solidified when a gust of sand hit his face.  Right between the eyes.  Right on schedule.

He rubbed his eyes clear before opening them a crack.  "I've just about had enough of this damn stuff," he grumbled.  "I find it in my hair for days."

Spock lifted an eyebrow.  "I thought that only the good doctor complained about the sand."

"And if he was here, you'd be listening to him too," Kirk retorted.

The Vulcan started walking down the street and, after a moment, Kirk followed.  They were in an area away from the city core.  Many of the homes here were small,  the yards mainly unfenced.  It was very quiet, no sounds, no city noises.  They passed only two other people, a man and a woman walking slowly down the middle of the road.

"Sure dead.  I can't see Bones living here."

"Dead?" Spock asked in some surprise.

"It's just an expression," Kirk replied.  "Don't Vulcans have any social life?  What do you do in your leisure time?"

Spock sounded amused.  "I would assume that Dr. McCoy is wondering the same thing."

Kirk rubbed more sand out of his eyes.  "What about this V'Rhsal?  What is he like?"

"I have never met him," Spock said.  "He is of good family.  His work indicates a dedicated mind.  He has been honoured with fifteen scientific awards and many of his papers are required reading at Starfleet Academy.  I would have been surprised if Dr. McCoy had refused an opportunity to work with him."

Kirk caught sight of a large gate and high walls that cut back from the street like the garrisons of a fortress.  "Whoever lives here looks like they're expecting an attack."

Spock stopped at the gate.  "This is the house."

Kirk sighed.  "Poor Bones."

The gates suddenly opened and the two men exchanged glances before starting slowly down the front path.

The front door opened as they stepped onto the porch and Kirk recognized the tall, black-eyed Vulcan from McCoy's transmission.

Spock held up the Vulcan salute.  "It is an honour to meet you, Kór V'Rhsal.  I know of your work."

V'Rhsal returned the greeting.  "The Physician McCoy is in the laboratory.  This way."

He turned and led them down some dimly-lit stairs and through an underground expanse that reminded Kirk of dark mine shafts.  He caught sight of covered objects, covered furniture, and a large computer network that took an entire room to house.  The last room opened up with sudden brilliant sunlight into a large laboratory which sloped up to massive glass doors.  McCoy glanced up from a computer terminal at their arrival and smiled.  "Hey, Jim, Spock!  I wasn't sure if you were coming."

"Sorry to be late.  We got our orders.  The Enterprise is pulling out tonight,"  Kirk said.

McCoy nodded.  "Pull up some chairs.  I've got coffee on."

Kirk glanced around as McCoy set out some cups but V'Rhsal had left.

"I found a place in the city this morning that sells real coffee beans, not that Vulcan shit," the doctor said.

Kirk chuckled.  "Now if they only sold bourbon."

"I'll find some.  Got to have your necessities."  McCoy set a tray on the table and the dark odour of coffee wafted into the air.
"Where's the Enterprise off to?"

"Sigma," Kirk said.  "Another civil war."

"Bad?" McCoy asked.

Kirk shrugged as he glanced around the lab.  He noted Spock doing the same.  "What are you doing here?"

McCoy lost his smile.  "Have you ever heard of Khlabar Disease, Jim?"

"No, Bones.  What is it?"

McCoy took a breath.  "Well...it's not pleasant."

Spock took a tentative sip of his coffee.  "Vulcan physicians have been studying Khlabar for two centuries."

"I know," McCoy said, "and they haven't progressed at all.  It's very strange."

"And the Kelvan neural field?" Spock queried.

"I'll be working with the V'Rhsal neural field,"  McCoy said with a smile.  "As soon as he builds it.  He's designing one that will affect only a certain set of nerves."

"Are you hoping to arrest Khlabar progression?" Spock asked.

"We hope to do more than that."

"What is Khlabar?" Kirk asked.

"It's a disease that causes progressive nerve deterioration.  One in five Vulcans are now affected by it.  Onset unknown.  Transmission unknown.  Prognosis...fatal."  McCoy rested his elbows on the table.  "The progression of the disease reminds me of something I've seen before but, I don't know.  I'm just an old country general practitioner."

"Uh huh," Kirk said.  "How many times have I heard that one?"

McCoy suddenly looked up, as if reacting to a sound that Kirk didn't hear.  "V'Rhsal, come and have some coffee."

Kirk looked behind him.  The tall Vulcan was in the doorway to the next room but he came a few steps in at McCoy's request.

"Have some what, Leonard?"

"Coffee," McCoy repeated, pouring another cup. "Real coffee.  You probably won't recognize the taste."

V'Rhsal sat and accepted the cup silently.  There was quiet for a few minutes, then he said, "Captain Spock, notes of your research on Boltzmann entropy as it relates to ion path conservation have reached our libraries here.  Have you explained the Asimov Paradox yet?"

"Our Chief Engineer aboard the Enterprise has worked out a reversing equation that eliminates the former necessity of including the paradox in the calculations of ion path waves."

V'Rhsal finally looked up.  "So you have not been able to explain the Asimov Paradox."

"No, I have not," Spock admitted.  "However, it's absence in the equations does not compromise the integrity of the resultant graph."

"Do you assume the graduation curve is a constant?"

"Yes," Spock replied.  "I do not consider it would be otherwise."

"Dear Lord," McCoy sighed.  "Get two Vulcans in a room and all they do is discuss quantum physics."

"Mechanical physics, doctor," Spock corrected.

V'Rhsal gave McCoy a quick look.  "Actually, Leonard, you are correct.  Boltzmann's Theory of Entropy is part of mechanical physics but Captain Spock's departure into reversing equations and constants of wave speed use quantum theory.  Captain Spock's work in this area has not yet been successfully challenged."

Kirk saw Spock's eyebrows rise as he took the bait.

"Do you have an alternative theory, Kór V'Rhsal?"

"I do not believe the ion path waves are constant, but I would prefer to discuss this at some other time so that we do not bore Leonard."

Spock seemed taken aback.  He eyed McCoy who was intently regarding his coffee.

"Refills, anyone?"  McCoy asked.

"Please, doctor," Spock passed over his cup.  "I am interested, however, if the way you plan to adapt the Kelvan neural field."

"Adapt, nothing!  I'm getting a new one built from scratch," McCoy said with a chuckle.  "We want to affect only those nerves that use 6-hydroseron as a transmitter."

"How will you manage to make the neural field so selective?" Kirk asked, remembering his own experiences with the Kelvan field.

"Each neural transmitter carries a specific electrical charge," V'Rhsal said.  "We will base the field's range on those values.  Leonard mapped 6-hydroseron's route in a rat's central nervous system and I measured the inherent charge.  We should, in theory, now be able to adapt the field."

"Fascinating," Spock said.

"Logical," V'Rhsal replied.

 "Magical," McCoy said with a grin that caused both Vulcans to stare at him.  "You should see these rats we got, Spock.  There's one that's a real instigator.  He's only been here a few hours and he's escaped twice, pissed on my hand, and mated with the females.  I've named him Kirk.  He's in solitary in a metal box now, for obvious reasons, but I imagine he'll find a way out of there too."

Kirk choked on his coffee.  "You've named him...what?"

"What could I do?  The rat who bit her own tail off was already named Spock."

Spock was quiet however.  "Doctor, is it possible to infect lab rats with Khlabar?"

"I'm going to mimic the symptoms," McCoy said.

"Would it not be more logical to use Vulcan namachas whose blood is copper--based?"

McCoy frowned.  "I'm following another route."

"This is a hunch?"  Spock asked.  "This research is based on a human hunch?"

"Something Vulcan researchers have been unable to do for two centuries," V'Rhsal said softly.

Spock looked between V'Rhsal and McCoy and both eyebrows went up.

Later, back on the Enterprise, Kirk said, "Did you notice that every time you said something to Bones, V'Rhsal jumped in to defend him?"

Spock nodded.  "Yes, I did."

"What do you make of him?"

Spock thought for a moment.  "I do not believe he has had much experience with humans."

"He picked a helluva one to start with," Kirk said with a smile.  "I doubt it will be very long before he finds out the McCoy hardly needs to be protected."

---

The morning wallowed hot.  McCoy stood in the yard as the red sand blew past him.  The sun had risen barely an hour ago and it was already eighty--nine degrees.

He rubbed the back of his neck and his palm came away gritty.  A soft chime sounded through the open kitchen door, a signal that the tea had finished brewing.  He'd finally ventured to the upper part of the house this morning, though he'd felt a tremendous feeling of guilt at doing so.  V'Rhsal had been reduced to utter cajoling to get McCoy up into the kitchen and library and had almost given up with frustration he wouldn't admit to feeling.  McCoy had tiptoed upstairs, feeling that, at any moment, V'Rhsal's wife would return and find him there.  He knew that the invitation had been extended in good faith to him because he'd gone looking for an apartment yesterday evening and had been somewhat berated by V'Rhsal for doing so.  Logically, he knew it would be more than inconvenient to live elsewhere when their research, lab, computer and rats were here.  He knew that V'Rhsal must have spent a long time on the bedroom prepared for him, for it was full of the most odd but human assortment of things he'd ever seen, decorated by an alien who was trying to make him feel at home.  But he felt like he was trespassing.  It nagged him to be in someone else's home, walking their floors, drinking from their glasses.

He went inside and poured a cup of tea, wishing he had some good Kentucky whiskey to add to it.  It was starting to nag him also, this constant perception of V'Rhsal in his head.  The first initial high he'd felt from the release of giving his mind freely to the Vulcan had started to ebb for the meld was far more than he'd first imagined.  He began to wonder if this was the way all melds were, or if there was something more going on.  The responsibility of knowing another's secrets, and of giving his own up, was heavy in his thoughts.  The weight of it, the light and dark of the mind pattern, was overwhelming.

"I don't know what the hell he thinks I am," McCoy whispered.  "I can't work miracles.  These people have searched for a cure for two hundred years!"

He felt a rise of emotion in his chest which disturbed the Vulcan.  V'Rhsal was coming awake, the effect of McCoy's mental outburst.

He took a deep breath and tried to clear the panic from his mind as he went down to the lab.

It was after lunch before V'Rhsal came downstairs.  The Vulcan was in faded clothes and black oil was smeared to his elbows.

"What have you been up to?" McCoy asked.

V'Rhsal hesitated.  "Are you inquiring as to what I have been doing just now?"

"If it's not impolite."

As he washed up, V'Rhsal said, "You did ask me to check the flyer you purchased.  I also fed your...rats."

"Our rats."

"Your rats," V'Rhsal returned.  "I notice they have only one tail.  They are not defective, are they?"

"One tail is normal for them."

V'Rhsal sat down.  "Leonard, when you say that you want them to breed, I wonder how many rats you eventually expect to have."

McCoy lost his humour.  "V'Rhsal, once they start getting sick, they're going to die.  I know you don't like them.  I'm not personally fond of rats myself.  Those rats in there are tagged and registered with the Academy.  I'll have to register each birth and I'll have to give the Academy a report on every demise.  I know three rats can potentially make a lot of rats but believe me, we'll end up with very few once they start dying."  He changed the subject.  "How is my flyer?"

"The brake system has failed.  One signal light is broken."

"Does that mean I shouldn't drive it?"

V'Rhsal lifted an eyebrow in an action so reminiscent of Spock that McCoy got a start.

"Leonard, the flyer is without a braking system.  Do you honestly think you should use it before I fix it for you?"  The Vulcan
sounded impatient, as if he were explaining this to a child.

McCoy was quiet for a moment.  Then he asked softly,  "How far away is your wife now?"

The eyebrow lifted again.  "Do you wish me to calculate distance?"

"I just wondered if, perhaps, you already had."

V'Rhsal looked up.  "What purpose would that information serve?"

"Forget it."  McCoy put down his tea.  "I know you've been waiting on me so I'm happy to tell you that I'm ready to infect some rats.  By copying the mutations from the blood samples I took, I was able to make a synthetic bug that should mimic Khlabar with regard to symptoms and progression.  I'm going to infect two rats first.  Due to their faster metabolism, I should know within a day or two if my synthetic bug is on the mark.  If it is, you'll be able to get going on your end."

"Do you suspect Khlabar is a virus or a bacterium?"

McCoy shrugged.  "I'm not saying that yet.  If it is, it's got a very selective transmission to it.  I'm still inclined to believe there's a gene at fault.  Anyway, we'll have to take the rats to the hospital to infect them.  I didn't want to take any chances.  The bug I made is in a sealed vial in the hospital's containment hot lab and that is where both it and the infected rats will stay."

"That will be inconvenient," V'Rhsal said.

"But safe."

"Leonard, those Vulcans afflicted with Khlabar are admitted to the hospital only when the disease has progressed past where their families can take care of them.  Even in a hospital, the wards are not restricted.  Simple infection control techniques, such as handwashing, are the only requirements."

"I'm not taking any chances, V'Rhsal.  None.  there are viruses with twenty to twenty-five year incubation rates.  I'd rather be inconvenienced than run any risks."  McCoy smiled quickly.  "Since I have no brakes in my flyer, I guess we'll have to take the rats in yours."

"I will change my clothing first," V'Rhsal opened a locker and started undressing.

McCoy hastily averted his eyes.  "I'll get the rats."

"Leonard," V'Rhsal said.  "I sense some...emotion in your mind.  Have I offended you?"

McCoy looked intently at the floor.  "No, V'Rhsal."

"Leonard, there can be no dishonesty between us."

"Truly, I'm not offended but I can't turn off my feelings.  I've been trying."

"I know."  V'Rhsal's tone was gentle.  McCoy glanced up, puzzled, then quickly looked away again.  The Vulcan was entirely naked now. "Leonard, would you wish to learn some Vulcan techniques for suppressing emotion?"

"Not really," McCoy replied, staring hard at the walls.  He heard V'Rhsal stop moving behind him.

"Leonard, I sense something again.  Are you sure I am not offending you?"

"V'Rhsal, I'm trying to give you some privacy."

"Our minds are one.  What privacy is there left?"

"Just get dressed."

The Vulcan sounded puzzled.  "Leonard, the body is simply the body.  As a physician, have you never---?"

"Just get dressed, ok?"

V'Rhsal put on his pants and reached for a shirt. "Leonard, if you undress in my presence, do you wish me to avert my eyes?"

McCoy took a deep breath.  "I guarantee I won't do that."

"Explain."  V'Rhsal came around the table but he was fully clothed now.

McCoy took a deep breath. "Well, humans tend to keep their clothes on."

"So do Vulcans."

"V'Rhsal, I can't explain it," McCoy said quickly.  "Let's go to the hospital."

V'Rhsal turned towards the door, hesitated, and turned back.  "Leonard, I sensed...shame?"

"V'Rhsal--"

The Vulcan interrupted.  "You can shame yourself.  Your body does not shame you."

McCoy mumbled something V'Rhsal couldn't hear as he went past the Vulcan.

CHAPTER FOUR

T'Shyll was a small but stern Vulcan who did not stop working at her computer terminal simply because he was being introduced to her.  He spent the entire interview talking to the side of her face.

"I am told you are researching Khlabar Disease, Physician Leonard McCoy."

"Yes."

"Why did you wish to speak with me?"

McCoy took a seat, ignoring her lack of courtesy.  "I understand you are looking for the gene at fault."

"I assume you feel it is inherited."

"It's a possibility."

"You should research in one direction, Physician Leonard McCoy.  I am also told you feel Khlabar is a virus."

"Well, I don't discount that possibility either."

"Why should I talk to you about my research?"

McCoy hesitated.  "We're both looking for a cure, aren't we?  I was hoping to pool our resources."

"Explain that term."  Her fingers flew at her keyboard and he signed tiredly.

"I was hoping we could exchange information."

"I have much more information on Khlabar than you do.  It would not be a fair exchange.  Also it is a Vulcan condition, not a human one.  You are human."

McCoy stood and came up to her desk.  "Look.  If I'm going in the wrong direction with my research, could you at least tell me that?"

"I think you 'went in the wrong direction' the moment you came to Vulcan."

McCoy regarded her quietly for a long time before saying, "You know, I think you're bluffing.  I think you haven't got a damn bit of information at all.  Your search has been utterly fruitless and you're just too damn stubborn to admit such a thing to a human."

She did not react to him, but kept working at her computer without pause.

"Would it make a difference if Kór V'Rhsal came in here to talk with you?"

She stopped typing but did not look up.  "This interview is concluded."

"Well, it was nice meeting you."  McCoy left her office and fumed down the hospital corridor, ending up on a ward he hadn't yet encountered.  In a sunroom sat a small Vulcan boy who seemed too young to be left alone.  McCoy glanced up and down the hall but it was empty.  He eyed the child with some concern, then shrugged to himself.  "I guess they know what they're doing," he mumbled as he started back down the hall.  At that moment the child looked up at him and stared.

"Vah nhee?"  He touched his eartips.  "Vah nhee?"

McCoy suddenly found himself smiling.  In Vulcan, he said, "No, child.  They did not fall off.  I was born this way."

The child's eyes widened.  McCoy entered the sunroom and bent his head.  Tentatively, the boy touched McCoy's ears.

"Es ta lak e'nor!"

"Human," McCoy corrected.  "Es ta human."

A while later, V'Rhsal found McCoy and several children on the floor of the sunroom reading a book.  McCoy felt the Vulcan's presence and decided to ignore him.  The children, however, quieted respectfully.

"Leonard, what are you doing?"

McCoy sighed.  "It wouldn't do any good to explain."

A little girl giggled and shouted, "Yahoo, cowboy!"  V'Rhsal stared at her.

"That's an old earth greeting," McCoy said quickly.

"Do these children's parents know you are here?"

"I haven't seen any adults for..." McCoy glanced at his chronometer in surprise.  "For two hours."

"Perhaps we should leave quickly before an adult returns," V'Rhsal said.

"Why?  Is there a problem?"

V'Rhsal paused.  "The child was laughing.  That is not Vulcan way."

"The child is not an adult."

V'Rhsal eyed McCoy.  "True," he finally admitted.

"Am I really causing any harm?  We were just reading a book.  And besides, these kids can't get over the fact that I don't have pointed ears."  McCoy stood.  "I was in a tea shop while waiting on T'Shyll and I had a very hard time getting anyone to serve me.  They took one look and kind of backed away.  Maybe it would do some good to have early contact with an 'alien species'."

V'Rhsal's expression softened slightly.  "I accept your logic.  However, their parents may not.  Was your meeting with T'Shyll to any profit?"

"I'll tell you in the flyer."  McCoy said goodbye to the children and followed V'Rhsal outside into the strong sunlight.

"Did the children enjoy the book on surgical intervention in the elderly?"  V'Rhsal asked.

"They can't read yet," McCoy said.  "They looked at the pictures and I told them some old fairy tales.  There wasn't a reader terminal in the room to get something more appropriate."

"Vulcan children are not like human children.  I doubt a reader terminal would have supported any children's stories as you understand them," V'Rhsal said.

"Let me tell you about T'Shyll," McCoy started as he got into the flyer but the Vulcan shook his head.

"Tell me without words.  It is easier."

McCoy closed his eyes.  The thread between them flowed gently back and forth.  The memory of the interview took only a few seconds to share with the Vulcan.

In his mind, McCoy apologized.  if i hadn't been human, she probably would have opened up more

why do you say that, leonard

like in the tea shop

i should apologize to you.  t'shyll and i have some family relationship but we do not speak by our own choice

but

many consider me too emotional

 McCoy opened his eyes.  "YOU?" he asked out loud.

"Yes, me."  V'Rhsal started the flyer.

---

The sand blew all night against the windows.  McCoy finally gave up trying to sleep and went down to the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee.  It was pitch black outside, with only starlight over the mountains behind V'Rhsal's house.  Standing at the window, McCoy could forget that a whole street of houses lay to either side of him.

He had been standing for some time when he heard a slight noise from the lab down below.  Puzzled, he crept down the stairs and through the rooms until he got to the doorway of the lab.

"V'Rhsal, what are you doing?"

The Vulcan glanced up from a piece of equipment he'd been working on.  "Leonard, is something wrong?"

"It's very late.  Aren't you planning on getting any sleep?"

V'Rhsal returned to the equipment.  "My body is not in need of rest, Leonard."

McCoy suddenly smiled.  "For heaven's sakes, after all these years, I finally understand how it must have galled Spock to have me on his back every time he stayed up late.  Vulcans actually need less sleep than humans."  McCoy got another cup of tea for the Vulcan and brought it down to the lab.  "Here, it's how you like it, strong and no sugar."

V'Rhsal looked at the cup.  "If I am thirsty, Leonard, I am able to get my own drink."

"I don't mind getting this for you."  McCoy sat down and V'Rhsal, after a moment, took a sip from the steaming mug.

"Is it strong enough?  I practically disintegrated the spoon stirring it."

V'Rhsal nodded.  "It is adequate.  You took some time to make this in the fashion I prefer even though your tea was down here cooling."

McCoy frowned.  "It only took a minute."  He tapped the metal object on the table in front of the Vulcan.  "Is that it?"

"It is my first prototype for the neural field," V'Rhsal said.  "I will revise it to make it more compact."  He took another sip of his tea.  "Did you check on...our rats?"

McCoy smiled.  "They're ok.  I think one of the females is pregnant."

"That was prompt."

"Naming the male 'Kirk' was apt."  McCoy stretched tiredly.

"Can you not sleep, Leonard?"

McCoy started to laugh, much to V'Rhsal's confusion.  Finally he said, "Sorry, V'Rhsal.  I'll be in the next room working on those chemical tracings of 6-hydroseron."

---

McCoy woke to hear V'Rhsal's voice in his mind.  He dressed quickly and ran down to the lab.

"What is it?"

V'Rhsal was standing in front of McCoy's computer terminal.  "What did you leave running here last night?"

"Chemical tracings."  McCoy peered over V'Rhsal's shoulder.  "Holy shit!"

"Interesting."  V'Rhsal sat down at the terminal which was quietly humming.  "It is filling its fourth tape.  What kind of tracing is this?"

"6-Hydroseron.  I tagged the transmitter with an isotope and left the computer to follow any impulse's path that uses it through a namacha's brain."

V'Rhsal glanced up at McCoy.  "The transmitter's route does not appear to retrace itself at all.  Every notation on screen says 'original tracing'."

"You know what this means," McCoy said as he sat down dejectedly.  "That damn transmitter goes through the entire brain stem and cerebellum.  Shit!"

V'Rhsal turned to McCoy.  "What does it mean?"

"It's the reason why your people haven't come up with a cure.  It can't be cured!  It doesn't matter if you increase the central nervous system's sensitivity to 6-hydroseron because 6-hydroseron goes through almost every pathway through the brain stem AND so does every other impulse from the brain to the rest of the body.  EVERYTHING going from brain to spine goes through the brain stem.  Khlabar affects the brain stem therefore EVERY neural transmitter is affected.  There's no way around it."

"There must be a way."

"V'Rhsal, the computer's on its fourth tape," McCoy said.  "What the hell can we do?  We can't set up the neural field to affect every impulse in the brain stem.  That's where all our involuntary reflexes are, respiration, swallowing, gagging, all of them.  I won't fool around in there."  He tapped the computer screen.  "And if this is just a little namacha's brain, can you imagine the complexity of a Vulcan's brain?"

V'Rhsal stood.  "Leonard, set up an isotope tag in my brain.  I wish to see just how complex it is."

"V'Rhsal, what's the point?"

"Leonard, please."

McCoy looked up in surprise.

"Is that not the proper term?"

"V'Rhsal, you could end up wearing a scanner on your head for a week until the computer finds a previous route."

"Perhaps longer."

McCoy grumbled as he got up.  "Stubborn Vulcans.  Don't know their head from a..."  His voice trailed off as he pulled out a hypo.  "V'Rhsal, I really don't think..."

"Leonard, you are wasting time."

McCoy reset the computer, then injected the isotope behind V'Rhsal's ear.  "V'Rhsal, even if we try to follow the tracings in just the namacha, it would take months."

"Then we will follow the tracings in my brain stem."

McCoy scowled.  "V'Rhsal, have you ever heard of the term obsession?"

"Leonard, if we use a carbon-based molecular chain, I am sure we could 'grow' the tracings directly from computer readout.  That would take an estimated two point seven days."

McCoy blinked.  "You want to grow a brain stem from plant tissue?"

"It would be the easiest, and safest way to continue this line of research."

"Even if we use the smallest molecular chain possible, it would still take up a helluva lot of room."

"You are right.  Please assist me to clear the two furthest rooms.  We can grow it there."

McCoy shrugged.  "My mother always said I should get into farming.  I guess this is as good a time as any."

---

There finally came a day when the sand didn't blow.  McCoy checked on his rats, seventeen of them now, then decided to take advantage of the weather and walk home from the hospital.  He passed few other people and those he did pass tended to avert their eyes.  He, on the other hand, found it hard not to look around him.  He hadn't seen a human for two months now.  Every voice he heard was flat and inflectless and every face he saw wore the same austere expression.  Not seeing other humans wasn't so bad.  What was truly depressing him was the absolute lack of entertainment.  No fiction section existed in the libraries and nothing with any swing to it ever graced the rooms of the music halls.  News feeds reported very little outside of Vulcan politics and community information.  The worst was he still hadn't found any place that sold liquor.  He'd walked through every tourist spot and every off-world shop and found they were all run by Vulcans who did not understand the wonderful effects of alcohol on the body.

He stopped in a public square and took a seat on a bench.  A few minutes later a woman and a baby sat down on the bench beside him.

"Good afternoon, ma'am.  Nice day, isn't it?"  McCoy said.

She nodded an acknowledgement of his greeting but did not speak.  Pulling out a journal from her bag, she casually read it while she lifted up her baby and let it nurse.  McCoy hastily rose from the bench and resumed his walk.

There was electronic mail waiting for him at the house.  He picked the tapes out of the feeder and walked around to the back of the house.   V'Rhsal's legs were all McCoy could see of him from underneath a flyer.

"Haven't you got those brakes done yet?"

He was not graced with an answer.  McCoy sat down on a step beside a greasy metallic object and said, "I told you the brakes were fine.  They stopped the flyer, but no, you insisted that they needed fine tuning.  You've been under there all day and I bet that this is probably a main part of my braking system here beside me that you can't get to fit back in."

"Leonard, do not nag me," came the Vulcan's muffled voice.  "And it is not as though you are without transportation since I gave you the code to my flyer which, I find, I did not hear land just now."

"It's at the hospital parking lot.  It was such a nice day that I decided to walk back."

McCoy heard another muffled tone.  "Was that cursing, V'Rhsal?"

"Vulcans do not swear, Leonard."

"Sure they do.  They just don't admit it."  McCoy stretched his legs out before him.  "We've both got some mail here.  Real exciting.  You've got your subscription to Warp Drive Update."

"Leonard, will you be retrieving my flyer at any time soon?"

"You mean, you want me to walk all the way back?"

He was greeted with utter silence.  Even V'Rhsal's tools stopped moving.

"V'Rhsal, I'm going absolutely crazy on this planet.  There is nothing to do.  I swear, this planet is so boring that even boring people don't come here."

"Leonard, perhaps you should vacation for a few days."

McCoy scowled.  "There aren't any ships in spaceport to hitch a ride on."

"I suggest a walk in the desert at night.  It is le'mayta season."

"Probably better company," McCoy muttered.

V'Rhsal slid out from underneath the flyer.  "Leonard..." he started but before he could finish the sentence, McCoy handed him the metallic object from the steps.

McCoy, realizing what he'd done, stood and sighed.  "Good God, this is eerie.  I swear sometimes I can hear your thoughts so clear it's as if you were talking out loud."

V'Rhsal cleaned the piece of brake system.  "Such is the reason for the link between us."

"Are you...picking up anything from me?"

The Vulcan slid back under the flyer.  "Your thoughts are chaotic.  It is difficult is isolate one concept at a time."

"I'll slow down.  What am I thinking now?"

There was a long silence.  Then V'Rhsal, very quietly, said, "I do not have a sister.  Nor, I assure you, would I act in such a way with her if I had such a sibling."

"V'Rhsal, we have to talk seriously.  And I can't do that with you under the flyer."

"Yes, you can, Leonard.  I wish to finish this before the light fails."

"V'Rhsal, it's hard to say what I'm going to say without seeing your face."

"Using your eyes is but a small part of how you can see me now.  Do not fear this, Leonard.  We can speak now.  There will be no deception, nothing hidden."

McCoy sat back down.  "Then I'll tell you.  I'm not upset with the lack of...life on this planet.  It's really not that at all.  But I feel you haven't been honest with me.  There is deception here."

"How have I deceived you?"

"This isn't a mind meld, is it?"

"It is, Leonard."

"V'Rhsal, I'm not stupid.  I've experienced the mind meld before, more than once.  My God, I've never come out of it in such an intimate position."

"How much more intimacy is there than a merging of minds?"

"I was on top of you!" McCoy shot back.  "V'Rhsal, it's nowhere near your time but you were..um...you know."

"Leonard, so were you."

McCoy shifted uncomfortably on the step.  "V'Rhsal, everything you are, ALL that you are, ALL that I am, is open between us.  Why?  Why so deep?"

The Vulcan came out from underneath the flyer, wiping his hands on a cloth.  "You said that James Kirk's name was well known on Vulcan.  But so is yours.  Do you think I would have contacted the first physician from the first starship that visited here?  Do you think that any non-Vulcan doctor would have been sufficient'?"

McCoy frowned.  "I don't know about other doctors but I'm just a general practitioner from Georgia."

"Planet ULAPG42821DB, you were able to stop a bound water poisoning that threatened the lives of everyone aboard the starship; 70 Ophiucus, you found the antitoxoid for the virus created by the life prolongation experiment;  Deneva, and the
madness--"

"V'Rhsal," McCoy cut in.

"I have reviewed your own starship's logs and spoken with Ambassador Sarek."

"You spoke with Sarek about me?"

"He approved my desire to link my mind with yours for this research.  His opinion was that we would be compatible."  The Vulcan looked into McCoy's eyes.  "Leonard, I know what you have done and what you are capable of doing.  And so I waited for you to return to Vulcan.  I waited for no other but you."

McCoy looked away.  "V'Rhsal, what if I can't find the answers here?"

"Leonard, you have not even tried.  I have received nothing from you but emotional refuse.  You are polluting your brilliance with base regrets and guilt."

McCoy's voice lowered.  "Pardon me?"

V'Rhsal's voice harshened too.  "I will submit examples.  I feel your irrational anger and distrust of doctors who would be your students but who happen to be younger and obviously more enthusiastic.  I sense regrets over women whom you did not desire sufficiently or who did not desire you.  And there is more, petty whining over advancing years, complaints when there is nothing of sufficient cause about which to complain.  And all these endless, useless fears of failing to the point where you do not bother to try.  You may be bored, but I have had to put up with all of that.  You dumped it into my mind."  He paused in order to steady his voice.  "Leonard, I have not deceived you.  You have deceived me.  Not for one minute have you truly and honestly tried to outwit this disease."

McCoy clenched his fists to keep from socking the Vulcan.  "You inbred bastard!  You can't blame me for being human."

"That excuse is no longer valid."

McCoy jumped up and paced back and forth angrily.  "Damnit!  Damnit!  Damnit!"  He kicked at the flyer, then suddenly stilled and leaned against the metal.

"Damnit," McCoy said softly.

"Leonard?"  V'Rhsal asked with some alarm.

"You're right.  Damnit, V'Rhsal.  I've been feeling...sorry for myself and, thanks to our mind link, I guess I've been sharing it all with you."

"Logically, you should acknowledge it but not let it stop you."

"My not being logical was one of the things you originally liked in me."

V'Rhsal came up beside McCoy.  "I told you the ideal way to continue.  Unfortunately, not even logical beings always follow it.  I am somewhat outcast in my family.  I shamed them with my emotions."

"What emotions?" McCoy retorted gruffly.

"I have personal, selfish motives for my wish to end Khlabar on this world -  my father, my teacher, and now my brother.  There have been others, and all who suffered did so in front of my eyes.  I have given you the trust of a bonding because I...cannot
watch it happen anymore."

"A bonding?"  McCoy frowned.  "I was right.  There's more here than a mind meld.  So you deceived me."

The Vulcan silenced.

McCoy took a breath.  "I'm not up on Vulcan things but I thought only married people were bond to each other."

"Usually," V'Rhsal admitted.

"What happens if you go into Pon Farr?"

"That is not for four years, Leonard.  It will not happen with you."

"Thank God for small mercies," McCoy said.  "Damnit, why the hell didn't you stop at a link."

"I originally intended to do so, Leonard, but it was your decision as well."

"I don't recall being asked.  When did I decide?"

V'Rhsal looked puzzled.  "During the initial meld."

"Like hell!"

"Leonard, when I stopped at what I thought was a deep enough level, you went deeper, so I followed.  It is just as well.  Ambassador Sarek mentioned that you had some trouble with mind melds and I do not wish to risk losing touch with you when you eventually return to the Enterprise."

"Don't blame this on me!  I was never given the instruction manual on these things!"

V'Rhsal eyed McCoy and almost, almost smiled.  McCoy felt the amusement in his mind and his jaw dropped.

"Well, poor Vulcan, I'm 'polluting' you with some good old human emotion as well."

"Interesting."

McCoy managed a laugh.  "It sure is."  He took a few steps towards the house.  "I'm going down to check on our plant.  Last time I looked it had filled that first room."

"It has grown bigger since then."

"V'Rhsal, you wore that scanner for four days before we got a repeat tracing on that transmitter.  Your brain stem sits in a little spot in the back of your skull.  The brain stem we're growing is over fifteen feet high."

"Do you think we should not try?"

"No," McCoy shook his head as he strode into the house.  "I guess we will try."

CHAPTER FIVE

McCoy had not seen the house on the hill for forty-five years.  It's dusky red paint and isolation among the trees gave it a rustic, cabin look, though, indeed, it stood three stories and had seventeen rooms.  He was down below, in the river that spanned the valley, skating on the ice that hung heavy over churning water.  He hadn't skated for forty-five years either.  Strange, how these things went.  The feel of the blades scraping was as familiar as if he'd been skating only yesterday.  The winter was strong and crisp in his nose.

He skated past the clump of trees where he'd once had a tire swing and the house came into view again.  The windows were all dark.  Usually the kitchen light was on and his mother, cooking supper, would wave to him.

A wind gust chilled his face and ears.  A few snowflakes came down from the sky, the promise of a storm.  He skated faster, breathing hard in the icy air, but the house seemed no nearer.  There, again, the same clump of trees, and he pushed harder only to move seemingly nowhere.  The trees did not move.   Suddenly the ice heaved up ahead.  In the dim light a face stared back at him.  He gasped at himself under the ice, his arms outstretched towards the surface, the skin throttled and blue.

He heard voices and saw children dancing wildly on the shore and their voices rang over the frozen river.

"Fire and ice and the joy of wild birth because we all live with witches."

McCoy jumped up.  He was sitting in bed, the covers wrapped around his legs, and the heat hit his face like a hot towel.  He'd barely caught his breath when a loud bang roared through the house.

He jumped out of bed and ran, crashing into V'Rhsal at the stairs down to the lab.

"What the HELL was that?" McCoy started but the Vulcan was taking the steps three at a time.

McCoy followed more slowly, coughing on plaster dust that choked the air.  He came suddenly upon the Vulcan at the entrance to the first cleared room.  McCoy glanced over V'Rhsal's shoulder.

"My God..."

Debris filled the room.  The plant they'd been growing from the computer model lay scattered in brown chunks.  The computer terminal lay on its side, the monitor blinking a dim blue.

V'Rhsal righted the computer and tried the keyboard.  "The terminal has sustained a bad jar but the memory is intact.  Voice mode does not work."

"What could have happened?"  McCoy asked.

"Perhaps the computer can tell us."  V'Rhsal manually punched up a string of codes.  The terminal cleared but the memory responded slowly to the Vulcan's prompting.  Finally a run of numbers crawled along the bottom of the screen.

V'Rhsal frowned.  "According to memory, the molecular chain was the cause of the explosion."

"You're kidding," McCoy said.  "The plant exploded?  It was a simple chemical chain!  How could it blow up?"

The Vulcan paused as he considered the numbers and codes.  "We set up the molecular chain to exactly replicate the computer tracings of my brain stem.  According to memory, there was energy contained in the tracing model."

McCoy kneeled on the floor, careful of the soggy, brown debris.  "Energy?  Where?"

"A moment, Leonard."  V'Rhsal prompted the terminal again.  "Our plant model copied every chemical base and atom structure, on a much larger scale.  Apparently the brain stem stores energy in...pockets, I suppose for its own use.  One of the pockets was weak and its containment was breached.  That breach caused the explosion."

McCoy glanced around.  "But, V'Rhsal, I checked the scan on your brain.  You had no weak blood vessels, no aneurysms."

"Blood vessels are not plant tissues."

McCoy fell into a sitting position.  "Good Lord, if we're all walking around with energy like this stored in our brains, it's a wonder we don't all explode!"

"Leonard, don't be so melodramatic.  The model is four hundred and three times larger than a normal-sized brain stem."

"Well forgive me, V'Rhsal, but we've been down in this lab a lot.  We could have been down here when the pocket went!  Do you realize that?"

"Leonard, calm yourself.  That did not happen.  We will have to be more cautious."

"Cautious of what?  We're working in the complete unknown here!  How do we know what to be cautious of?"

"The energy released indicates that one of the larger pockets exploded.  If there are further explosions, they should not be so substantial."

McCoy scowled.  "So, what are we talking about?  Just the loss of an arm or leg?"

"Leonard, there is no need of sarcasm either."

"V'Rhsal, we were planning on using this thing as a model for disrupting and re-routing neural impulses.  Have you ever heard of osmosis?"

"It is a biological tendency to equalize chemical and electrical concentrations between the interior and exterior of a cell."

"I don't mean to be a killjoy but what do you think could happen if we re-route an electrical impulse away from a 'pocket' of energy?"

"Possible breach of the cell wall as the electrical concentrations attempt to equalize.  However, Leonard, it is a merely a possible consequence.  Many cells are semi-permeable, allowing one way flow only."

"But we don't know and we CAN'T know except by trial and error.  It would be like having a box of candles with a few sticks of T.N.T. mixed in, and then sitting around in the dark and lighting them with your teeth."
 The Vulcan keyed in a few more commands.  "Leonard, this is not comparable to trinitrotoluene.  The energy stored is intense but clean.  Its release caused no biologically harmful effects in terms of residue.  There are no toxins in the air beyond the plaster dust from the casings in the walls."

McCoy picked up a bit of the plant.  "Look at this poor thing.  It's been literally ripped open from inside out."

"We will have to grow it again.  Perhaps if we tried a step or two up the molecular chain...."  The Vulcan shut off the computer.

"V'Rhsal, even if I give all these pockets of energy the benefit of the doubt, and we disrupt a neural trail nine times and nothing happens, it only means that we'll get an explosion on our tenth try.  We will breach another pocket wall.  That could cause more damage.  I mean, this is not only your house but your wife's as well.  What's she going to say when she comes home and finds half her walls in orbit?"

"I have measurements of the energy released from this explosion.  I will design a containment field for this level of energy, which should be more than sufficient for the consequences of any other breaches."

The Vulcan started cleaning up the plant debris.  He righted a table, then said softly, "Leonard, what is that you are thinking?"

McCoy scowled.  "I've got a name for them.  'But, oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day.  If your Snark be a Boojum, for then.  You will softly and suddenly vanish away and never be met with again.  For although common Snarks do no manner of harm, yet I feel it my duty to say, some are Boojums......'"

The Vulcan looked puzzled.  "That reference has no meaning for me."

McCoy looked up.  "It will."

---

McCoy jolted awake with the image of the empty house in his eyes and the feel of the winter cold on his skin.

He sat up and tried to calm his lungs, then felt the twinge in his mind that told him the Vulcan was awake.

He pulled on some pants and padded downstairs.  The lights were dim in the room where the plant tissue was growing.  It groaned under its own weight and pulsed with lightning flashes of nerve impulses that flashed along its tendrils and were gone in a blink.  It shivered where it neared the walls.  The roots rustled underneath like the sounds of a hundred mice.  McCoy could no longer find the floor, or even half of the walls.  Whenever he stepped near it, or shone a light towards it, it cringed back into the darkness and groaned at him.

It frankly scared McCoy to be alone with it.  Oddly enough, it didn't seem to bother V'Rhsal in the least.  He stepped over it, through it, and even on it, without a second look.   He was standing, now, in the middle of two huge roots that led into the bulk growing in the next room.  He was unclothed, as was his sleeping habit, indicating that he had probably just awakened.

"What are you doing up?"  McCoy whispered, looking carefully at anything but V'Rhsal.  "Is something going on?"

The Vulcan shook his head.  "No, Leonard.  I am simply checking on the plant tissue."

McCoy shivered, utterly spooked.  "Let's hope we don't find another weak pocket.  I'd hate to have it explode right now."

"It is within the containment field."

"Yeah, and so are we.  You're down here all the time, lately.  What are you doing?  Communing with it?"

"Hardly.  It is just a plant."

"Modelled on your brain stem.  You must feel some empathy."

"Interesting thought, Leonard.  Perhaps if we did a tracing on my cerebral cortex, I could actually communicate with myself."

McCoy stared at V'Rhsal.  "Was that a joke?"

"I fear you are contaminating me."

McCoy smiled.  "If I am, it can only be to your benefit."  He waded through some plant tissue.  "Can we hurt this thing by being here?"

"I do not think so.  This one is stronger," V'Rhsal gently touched a tendril.

The doctor found a clear spot and sat down.  "I know this is four hundred and three times to scale, but some of these plant 'nerves' are so minute I need a microscope to see them.  It's...awe-inspiring.  We are literally growing part of a brain." An impulse flashed by McCoy, as if reacting to his words.  "Though I have to admit, it gives me the creeps."

"Strange perception, Leonard.  In your surgical career you have had contact with brain tissue."

"But it never outweighed me."  McCoy rubbed his eyes.  "V'Rhsal, I can sense some disturbance.  Why are you up, really?"

"We are bond.  I dream your dreams.  What is the significance of the house?"

McCoy shrugged.  "It's the house in which I grew up.  I don't know why I'm dreaming about it."

"As we are both awake, perhaps we could dress and go to the hospital to check on our rats."

"Good idea.  Poor things," McCoy said.  "They're pretty sick."

"Ironic, Leonard, that as a doctor you find it easier to cause a disease than to cure it."

"Go get dressed," McCoy muttered.  "...smart ass..."

---

One of the rats had died.  McCoy gently lifted the small animal from the cage and ran a scanner over it.

V'Rhsal looked over the doctor's shoulder.  "Cause of death, Leonard?"

McCoy laid the rat on the table.  "Primary - Congestive Heart Failure.  Secondary - progression of Khlabar-type symptoms."

The Vulcan regarded the rat without touching it.  "I would say that your synthetic bug is a success."

"...whoopie," McCoy mumbled.

"I am curious, Leonard.  Is it possible for iron-based blood types to be infected with Khlabar?"

"I would doubt it."

"Yet the symptoms and progression of Khlabar are apparent in these red-blooded rats."

"Yes, they are," McCoy nodded.

"How is that possible, Leonard?"

McCoy washed his hands.  "It's possible because these rats really have Cere-myelitis, which is a distinctly human condition."

At the Vulcan's uncomprehending look, McCoy added, "Inflammation of the cerebellar cortex.  It is caused by a virus which first enters and inflames the respiratory tract.  Mode of transmission from the lungs to the central nervous system is, to this day, still unknown.  You don't see much of it in humans now because we found a way to prevent it about one hundred and fifty years ago."

"Not a cure?"

McCoy shook his head.  "No, we never did pursue a cure since our prevention methods almost completely eradicated it.  It's part of our wide-spectrum booster shots.  I thought of it after I did a few rounds with some physicians here.  Do you know of a kissar-adept, Mah'Lee?"

V'Rhsal nodded.  "Most Vulcans do.  She is highly-regarded."

"She let me examine her.  I noticed that her eyes had trouble making 'pursuit' movements, which are how the eyes follow moving objects.  Also she had trouble keeping muscles in steady, contracted positions.  The walking brace she uses is a terrible problem because she can't always maintain a hold on it."

"Leonard, Vulcan physicians know that Khlabar affects the cerebellum."

"Right, and it does that by interrupting messages to and from the thalamus, messages that are carried through nerve impulses that use 6-hydroseron as a neurotransmitter.  Now, Cere-myelitis also affects thalamic messages but it does so by inhibiting the enzyme that breaks down the neurotransmitters after neuron excitement.  That is the only difference I could find between Cere-myelitis and Khlabar, but I'm not sure if that truly is a difference at all."

"Then, you do not believe that Khlabar is inherited?"

McCoy shrugged.  "I don't have any evidence to support it.  On the other hand, I don't have any evidence against it.  It would help if I could get hold of a few autopsy reports on victims of Khlabar."

"Why have you not done so?" V'Rhsal asked.

"I've tried.  I've made several written requests to T'Pall, the Hospital Administrator, but all have come back with that big red stamp "Permission Denied".  Apparently, she doesn't feel the need to explain why I can't see these reports."

V'Rhsal thought for a moment.  "You may need permission from the family of the deceased to open archived medical files."

McCoy scowled.  "And would I have to go through T'Pall for those names too?  She won't even grant me a meeting with her."

"I will ask her, Leonard."

"Will she speak to you?"

V'Rhsal raised an eyebrow.  "I would think so.  I am her son."

McCoy stared at the Vulcan.  "She's your Mother?"

"Is that not what I just said, Leonard?"

"Then you haven't, by the way, mentioned that I happen to be working with you for the next three years?  Her secretary won't even let me place a call to her."

"Accept my apologies, Leonard, but my family has had little contact with humans and I have little contact with my family."

"Little contact as in none?"

"Perhaps."

"What's so bad about humans anyway?"

V'Rhsal stood.  "Vulcan has a distrust of aliens.  Our history is one of constant struggle against alien invaders.  Some on Vulcan feel that alien contact of any kind is potentially harmful."

"And does your family feel that way?" McCoy persisted.

V'Rhsal paused.  "I cannot answer for my family.  I do not wish that you should judge Vulcans too harshly, Leonard.  Humans are unpredictable.  Their often irrational, emotional behaviour makes them potentially dangerous to those Vulcans whose logical outlook prefers prediction of reaction.  What cannot be reasonably foreseen may disrupt harmony and calm."

McCoy covered the little rat, then checked the others in the cage.  "Being Vulcan, V'Rhsal, I'm sure you don't mind a bit of harmony and calm."

"Leonard, I have had no occasion to regret linking to you since you have stopped feeling pity for yourself.  In fact, I find it not unpleasant."

McCoy eyed V'Rhsal uncertainly for a moment, then abruptly rose.  "The sun's coming up.  I think I'll go down to the wards and check on Mah'Lee.  She claims to be an early riser.  I'll see if she was telling the truth or trying to put one over on me."

---

Mah'Lee was in a sunroom.  A heavy shawl covered her small body and a blanket lay draped over her feet.  On the floor, sitting quietly, were two small children.

Upon McCoy's arrival, one of the children looked up and said, "Yahoo, cowboy!"

The elderly Vulcan woman glanced at the child, then at McCoy.  "Thee has had contact with my son's issue, Healer?"

McCoy stopped dead in his tracks, wondering if he'd, yet again, inadvertently, somehow insulted another Vulcan.

She waited for an answer.  Finally, McCoy said,  "I uh...may have read them a story or two.  I didn't know they were of your family.  I did not mean offence."  Oh hell, he thought.  Are all these damned Vulcans related or what?

The other child looked between McCoy and Mah'Lee, then asked softly, "Will Dokkar MacKoy complete the story about the tigger and the piglet?"

He sat down across from Mah'Lee. "I don't know if your grandmother would approve."

"I would wish to hear, Healer," Mah'lee said, surprising McCoy.

"Oh...sure.  Where were we?"

"At the forest," said the girl.

"Oh, right, Piglet was walking through the forest when--"

"What is a forest?" asked the girl.

McCoy eyed her, then said, "Try to imagine so many trees that you can't see past them and their leaves block out the sun."
He scratched his cheek, trying to remember the rest of the story.  "Anyway, Piglet was walking through the forest when suddenly Tigger jumped out of a tree and bounced him."
 
"Define bounce," the boy said.

McCoy squinted.  "Pardon?"

"Bounce is an action, Dokkar?" the girl enquired.

"Like this."  McCoy got up and hopped a few times, feeling rather silly.  "That's bouncing.  Tigger bounced Piglet and Piglet, being a very small animal, was very frightened."

"Frightened?" the boy interrupted.

McCoy blinked.  "It's...um...a..."  He eyed the three completely impassive faces before him and said,  "Forget I said frightened.  Piglet was not frightened.  Piglet was a girl animal and Tigger was a boy animal and the two of them approached their parents.  Tigger became a diplomat and Piglet earned her degree in astro-physics and their parents approved of their union so they joined minds and were married and had many children and lived a long, prosperous life together.  The end."

The children looked at each other and frowned.  The girl, hesitantly, said, "Dokkar MacKoy, we preferred your other stories."

McCoy couldn't help smiling.  He noticed Mah'Lee studying him.  When he looked up, she said, "I notice thy command of Vulcan tongue has improved greatly."

Another 'wonderful' effect of the mind link with V'Rhsal, McCoy thought glumly, hoping that he wasn't broadcasting the link so freely to her as he apparently did on the Enterprise to Spock.  "I really came here to see how you were doing with that new medication."

"I do not complain, Healer."

"I know you don't complain," McCoy retorted.  "And that's my chief complaint with you, that you never complain!"

She drew herself up with an austere gesture but her eyes were soft.  "If it will please you, I will attempt to complain in the future."

"See that you do," McCoy muttered.  "I'll see you later, madam.  I'll be doing rounds with your doctor again."

Mah'Lee drew the blanket closer around her feet.  "And will I receive a bill for all the visits with which you honour me?"

"Do you think you could afford my fees?"  McCoy chuckled.  "I'm quite pricy."

She considered for a moment, then sent the children from the room.  "I could offer something in return."

McCoy shook his head.  "It was a joke.  I don't charge for house calls."

"I do not wish to pry, Healer, but I wonder how long you will be staying on Vulcan."

"Why?"

She looked him in the eye.  "I could teach you some mental shielding."

McCoy sighed.  "Damn.  No matter how I try, everybody seems to know what's going on in my head.  I hope I haven't offended you."

Mah'Lee's voice quieted.  "I sense your emotions, not your thoughts.  And, though I try to maintain your privacy, I can sense a
bonding as well.  Would you learn from me?"

McCoy paused for a moment, then asked, "Can humans learn these things?"

"I do not know about humans.  I would teach you."

"But...are you up to it?"

She drew herself erect but her eyes were warm.  "Healer, now you offend."

McCoy smiled.  "Well, Mah'Lee, I can tell you right now.  You've taken on the challenge of a lifetime.  I'll see you later."

He went down to the cafeteria and got a cup of tea.  It was a horrid, Vulcan blend but he was getting used to it by now.  He took a corner seat and concentrated on keeping his eyes down.  There were only a few others in the cafeteria, but he had come to learn that it was not considered polite to even say hello unless he had something else, of more importance, to say too.  Many Vulcans, he'd noticed, didn't even greet you at all but just walked up and launched into some monologue.

He rubbed his eyes.  Strangely enough, he did not feel tired, despite the interrupted sleep and all the dreams of the last nights.  His previous visits to Vulcan had always left him with a nagging weariness which he'd associated with the higher gravity and the terribly unexciting company.

A shadow fell across the table.  He looked up into the face of a light-haired Vulcan.  "Pardon if I intrude," he said.

"You're not intruding.  Can I help you with something?" McCoy asked.

"I have noted you in the hospital.  I am Soltar, a physician here."

"Dr. Leonard McCoy.  Nice to meet you."

"I am honoured to greet you, Dr. McCoy."

I bet, McCoy thought grumpily.  Out loud, he asked,  "Would you care to join me?"

Soltar seated himself.  "Since our paths have crossed so often, I wondered if I might be of any assistance to you."

Nosy old goat, McCoy said to himself.  He managed a slight smile and said, "I'm doing some research here.  Are you a general practitioner, sir?"

"I specialize in cardiology, Dr. McCoy," Soltar said.  "I do not often see Humans other than Federation military personnel.  How long will you be staying on Vulcan?"

"I think I'll be here for a while yet."  McCoy took a sip of his tea and found it was worse than horrid when cold. "I'm working with a Vulcan scientist."

"Then you already have assistance.  Forgive me for my intrusion."  Soltar stood and took a step to leave.

McCoy looked up.  "No, you're not intruding.  I could use some company."  He waited until Soltar had re-seated himself, then said. "I've had some surgical experience with a Vulcan cardiovascular system.  Are you a surgeon?"

"I have performed surgery when necessary."

"I find the five chambers of the Vulcan heart interesting.  Human hearts have only four."

"Normal human blood pressure is also higher than Vulcan, is it not?"

"Normally.  I've often wondered how we can have such different cardiovascular systems, yet exist in very similar atmospheres."

Soltar considered this, then nodded.  "I find that an intriguing thought, Dr. McCoy.  I have never visited earth but I understand Vulcans can acclimate to it with little trouble.  And, obviously, I see you here with no apparent ill effect.  I would think that your heart would require more oxygen than this planet provides."

"As a Vulcan should get heady on the glut of oxygen in earth atmosphere, but they don't."

Soltar nodded.  "I would be most fascinated to pursue this topic with you.  I am due in my office in four point three minutes.  Perhaps, later, you are unoccupied?"

McCoy picked a number out of the air.  "Fourteen hundred?"

"That is acceptable, Dr. McCoy.  My office is on level two, ward seven."  Soltar took his leave.

McCoy watched him go, then regarded his empty glass.  "Oh, what the hell," he mumbled and got up to refill his cup.

CHAPTER SIX

McCoy had not seen the house on the hill for forty-five years. It's dusky red paint and isolation among the trees gave it a rustic, cabin look, though, indeed, it stood three stories and had seventeen rooms. He was down below, in the river that spanned the valley, skating on the ice that hung heavy over churning water. He hadn't skated for forty-five years either. Strange, how these things went. The feel of the blades scraping was as familiar as if he'd been skating only yesterday. The winter was strong and crisp in his nose.

He skated past the clump of trees where he'd once had a tire swing and the house came into view again. The windows were all dark. Usually the kitchen light was on and his mother, cooking supper, would wave to him.

A wind gust chilled his face and ears. A few snowflakes came down from the sky, the promise of a storm. He skated faster, breathing hard in the icy air, but the house seemed no nearer. There, again, the same clump of trees, and he pushed harder only to move seemingly nowhere. The trees did not move. Suddenly the ice heaved up ahead. In the dim light a face stared back at him. He gasped at himself under the ice, his arms outstretched towards the surface, the skin throttled and blue.

He heard voices and saw children dancing wildly on the shore and their voices rang over the frozen river.

"Fire and ice and the joy of wild birth because we all live with witches."

McCoy jumped up. He was sitting in bed, the covers wrapped around his legs, and the heat hit his face like a fiery wet towel. He'd barely caught his breath when a loud bang roared through the house.

He jumped out of bed and ran, crashing into V'Rhsal at the stairs down to the lab.

"What the HELL was that?" McCoy started but the Vulcan was taking the steps three at a time.

McCoy followed more slowly, coughing on plaster dust that choked the air. He came suddenly upon the Vulcan at the entrance to the first cleared room. McCoy glanced over V'Rhsal's shoulder.

"My God..."

Debris filled the room. The plant they'd been growing from the computer model lay scattered in brown chunks. The computer terminal lay on its side, the monitor blinking a dim blue.

V'Rhsal righted the computer and tried the keyboard. "The terminal has sustained a bad jar but the memory is intact. Voice mode does not work."

"What could have happened?" McCoy asked.

"Perhaps the computer can tell us." V'Rhsal manually punched up a string of codes. The terminal cleared but the memory responded slowly to the Vulcan's promptings. Finally a run of numbers crawled along the bottom of the screen.

V'Rhsal frowned. "According to memory, the molecular chain was the cause of the explosion."

"You're kidding," McCoy said. "The plant exploded? It was a simple chemical chain! How could it blow up?"

The Vulcan paused as he considered the numbers and codes. "We set up the molecular chain to exactly replicate the computer tracings of my brain stem. According to memory, there was energy contained in the tracing model."

McCoy kneeled on the floor, careful of the soggy, brown debris. "Energy? Where?"

"A moment, Leonard." V'Rhsal prompted the terminal again. "Our plant model copied every chemical base and atom structure, on a much larger scale. Apparently the brain stem stores energy in...pockets, I suppose for its own use. One of the pockets was weak and its containment was breached. That breach caused the explosion."

McCoy glanced around. "But, V'Rhsal, I checked the scan on your brain. You had no weak blood vessels, no aneurysms."

"Blood vessels are not plant tissues."

McCoy fell into a sitting position. "Good Lord, if we're all walking around with energy like this stored in our brains, it's a wonder we don't all explode!"

"Leonard, don't be so melodramatic. The model is four hundred and three times larger than a normal-sized brain stem."

"Well forgive me, V'Rhsal, but we've been down in this lab a lot. We could have been down here when the pocket went! Do you realize that?"

"Leonard, calm yourself. That did not happen. We will have to be more cautious."

"Cautious of what? We're working in the complete unknown here! How do we know what to be cautious of?"

"The energy released indicates that one of the larger pockets exploded. If there are further explosions, they should not be so substantial."

McCoy scowled. "So, what are we talking about? Just the loss of an arm or leg?"

"Leonard, there is no need of sarcasm either."

"V'Rhsal, we were planning on using this thing as a model for disrupting and re-routing neural impulses. Have you ever heard of osmosis?"

"It is a biological tendency to equalize chemical and electrical concentrations between the interior and exterior of a cell."

"I don't mean to be a killjoy but what do you think could happen if we re-route an electrical impulse away from a 'pocket' of energy?"

"Possible breach of the cell wall as the electrical concentrations attempt to equalize. However, Leonard, it is a merely a possible consequence. Many cells are semi-permeable, allowing one way flow only."

"But we don't know and we CAN'T know except by trial and error. It would be like having a box of candles with a few sticks of T.N.T. mixed in, and then sitting around in the dark and lighting them with your teeth."

The Vulcan keyed in a few more commands. "Leonard, this is not comparable to trinitrotoluene. The energy stored is intense but clean. Its release caused no biologically harmful effects in terms of residue. There are no toxins in the air beyond the plaster dust from the casings in the walls."

McCoy picked up a bit of the plant. "Look at this poor thing. It's been literally ripped open from inside out."

"We will have to grow it again. Perhaps if we tried a step or two up the molecular chain...." The Vulcan shut off the computer.

"V'Rhsal, even if I give all these pockets of energy the benefit of the doubt, and we disrupt a neural trail nine times and nothing happens, it only means that we'll get an explosion on our tenth try. We will breach another pocket wall. That could cause more damage. I mean, this is not only your house but your wife's as well. What's she going to say when she comes home and finds half her walls in orbit?"

"I have measurements of the energy released from this explosion. I will design a containment field for this level of energy, which should be more than sufficient for the consequences of any other breaches."

The Vulcan started cleaning up the plant debris. He righted a table, then said softly, "Leonard, what is that you are thinking?"

McCoy scowled. "I've got a name for them. 'But, oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day. If your Snark be a Boojum, for then. You will softly and suddenly vanish away and never be met with again. For although common Snarks do no manner of harm, yet I feel it my duty to say, some are Boojums......'"

The Vulcan looked puzzled. "That reference has no meaning for me."

McCoy looked up. "It will."

---

McCoy jolted awake with the image of the empty house in his eyes and the feel of the winter cold on his skin. He sat up and tried to calm his lungs, then felt the twinge in his mind that told him the Vulcan was awake.

He pulled on some pants and padded downstairs. The lights were dim in the room where the plant tissue was growing. It groaned under its own weight and pulsed with lightning flashes of nerve impulses that flashed along its tendrils and were gone in a blink. It shivered where it neared the walls. The roots rustled underneath like the sounds of a hundred mice. McCoy could no longer find the floor, or even half of the walls.

Whenever he stepped near it, or shone a light towards it, it cringed back into the darkness and groaned at him.

It frankly scared McCoy to be alone with it. Oddly enough, it didn't seem to bother V'Rhsal in the least. He stepped over it, through it, and even on it, without a second look. He was standing, now, in the middle of two huge roots that led into the bulk growing in the next room. He was unclothed, as was his sleeping habit, indicating that he had probably just awakened.

"What are you doing up?" McCoy whispered, looking carefully at anything but V'Rhsal. "Is something going on?"

The Vulcan shook his head. "No, Leonard. I am simply checking on the plant tissue."

McCoy shivered, utterly spooked. "Let's hope we don't find another weak pocket. I'd hate to have it explode right now."

"It is within the containment field."

"Yeah, and so are we. You're down here all the time, lately. What are you doing? Communing with it?"

"Hardly. It is just a plant."

"Modeled on your brain stem. You must feel some empathy."

"Interesting thought, Leonard. Perhaps if we did a tracing on my cerebral cortex, I could actually communicate with myself."

McCoy stared at V'Rhsal. "Was that a joke?"

"I fear you are contaminating me."

McCoy smiled. "If I am, it can only be to your benefit." He waded through some plant tissue. "Can we hurt this thing by being here?"

"I do not think so. This one is stronger," V'Rhsal gently touched a tendril.

The doctor found a clear spot and sat down. "I know this is four hundred and three times to scale, but some of these plant 'nerves' are so minute I need a microscope to see them. It's...awe-inspiring. We are literally growing part of a brain." An impulse flashed by McCoy, as if reacting to his words. "Though I have to admit, it gives me the creeps."

"Strange perception, Leonard. In your surgical career you have had contact with brain tissue."

"But it never outweighed me." McCoy rubbed his eyes. "V'Rhsal, I can sense some disturbance. Why are you up, really?"

"We are bond. I dream your dreams. What is the significance of the house?"

McCoy shrugged. "It's the house in which I grew up. I don't know why I'm dreaming about it."

"As we are both awake, perhaps we could dress and go to the hospital to check on our rats."

"Good idea. Poor things," McCoy said. "They're pretty sick."

"Ironic, Leonard, that as a doctor you find it easier to cause a disease than to cure it."

"Go get dressed," McCoy muttered. "...smart ass..."

---

One of the rats had died. McCoy gently lifted the small animal from the cage and ran a scanner over it.

V'Rhsal looked over the doctor's shoulder. "Cause of death, Leonard?"

McCoy laid the rat on the table. "Primary - Congestive Heart Failure. Secondary - progression of Khlabar-type symptoms."

The Vulcan regarded the rat without touching it. "I would say that your synthetic bug is a success."

"...whoopie," McCoy mumbled.

"I am curious, Leonard. Is it possible for iron-based blood types to be infected with Khlabar?"

"I would doubt it."

"Yet the symptoms and progression of Khlabar are apparent in these red-blooded rats."

"Yes, they are," McCoy nodded.

"How is that possible, Leonard?"

McCoy washed his hands. "It's possible because these rats really have Cere-myelitis, which is a distinctly human condition."

At the Vulcan's uncomprehending look, McCoy added, "Inflammation of the cerebellar cortex. It is caused by a virus which first enters and inflames the respiratory tract. Mode of transmission from the lungs to the central nervous system is, to this day, still unknown. You don't see much of it in humans now because we found a way to prevent it about one hundred and fifty years ago."

"Not a cure?"

McCoy shook his head. "No, we never did pursue a cure since our prevention methods almost completely eradicated it. It's part of our wide-spectrum booster shots. I thought of it after I did a few rounds with some physicians here. Do you know of a kissar-adept, Mah'Lee?"

V'Rhsal nodded. "Most Vulcans do. She is highly-regarded."

"She let me examine her. I noticed that her eyes had trouble making 'pursuit' movements, which are how the eyes follow moving objects. Also she had trouble keeping muscles in steady, contracted positions. The walking brace she uses is a terrible problem because she can't always maintain a hold on it."

"Leonard, Vulcan physicians know that Khlabar affects the cerebellum."

"Right, and it does that by interrupting messages to and from the thalamus, messages that are carried through nerve impulses that use 6-hydroseron as a neurotransmitter. Now, Cere-myelitis also affects thalamic messages but it does so by inhibiting the enzyme that breaks down the neurotransmitters after neuron excitement. That is the only difference I could find between Cere-myelitis and Khlabar, but I'm not sure if that truly is a difference at all."

"Then, you do not believe that Khlabar is inherited?"

McCoy shrugged. "I don't have any evidence to support it. On the other hand, I don't have any evidence against it. It would help if I could get hold of a few autopsy reports on victims of Khlabar."

"Why have you not done so?" V'Rhsal asked.

"I've tried. I've made several written requests to T'Pall, the Hospital Administrator, but all have come back with that big red stamp "Permission Denied". Apparently, she doesn't feel the need to explain why I can't see these reports."

V'Rhsal thought for a moment. "You may need permission from the family of the deceased to open archived medical files."

McCoy scowled. "And would I have to go through T'Pall for those names too? She won't even grant me a meeting with her."

"I will ask her, Leonard."

"Will she speak to you?"

V'Rhsal raised an eyebrow. "I would think so. I am her son."

McCoy stared at the Vulcan. "She's your Mother?"

"Is that not what I just said, Leonard?"

"Then you haven't, by the way, mentioned that I happen to be working with you for the next three years? Her secretary won't even let me place a call to her."

"Accept my apologies, Leonard, but my family has had little contact with humans and I have little contact with my family."

"Little contact as in none?"

"Perhaps."

"What's so bad about humans anyway?"

V'Rhsal stood. "Vulcan has a distrust of aliens. Our history is one of constant struggle against alien invaders. Some on Vulcan feel that alien contact of any kind is potentially harmful."

"And does your family feel that way?" McCoy persisted.

V'Rhsal paused. "I cannot answer for my family. I do not wish that you should judge Vulcans too harshly, Leonard. Humans are unpredictable. Their often irrational, emotional behaviour makes them potentially dangerous to those Vulcans whose logical outlook prefers prediction of reaction. What cannot be reasonably foreseen may disrupt harmony and calm."

McCoy covered the little rat, then checked the others in the cage. "Being Vulcan, V'Rhsal, I'm sure you don't mind a bit of harmony and calm."

"Leonard, I have had no occasion to regret linking to you since you have stopped feeling pity for yourself. In fact, I find it not unpleasant."

McCoy eyed V'Rhsal uncertainly for a moment, then abruptly rose. "The sun's coming up. I think I'll go down to the wards and check on Mah'Lee. She claims to be an early riser. I'll see if she was telling the truth or trying to put one over on me."

---

Mah'Lee was in a sunroom. A heavy shawl covered her small body and a blanket lay draped over her feet. On the floor, sitting quietly, were two small children.

Upon McCoy's arrival, one of the children looked up and said, "Yahoo, cowboy!"

The elderly Vulcan woman glanced at the child, then at McCoy. "Thee has had contact with my son's issue, Healer?"

McCoy stopped dead in his tracks, wondering if he'd, yet again, inadvertently, somehow insulted another Vulcan.

She waited for an answer. Finally, McCoy sa