TASHIRYA By Gamin Davis (More Visions of Future Past, 1992) TOS, K&S&f, Ch, Mc; H/C, angst (PG-13 for graphic mind-rape)

Captain’s Log, Stardate 9006.30:

        We are now four days into the Enterprise’s current assignment, patrolling the Federation boundary of the Klingon Neutral Zone and I’m again reminded why so few starship Captains ever volunteer for this duty. It doesn’t take long to become monotonous, and that monotony is starting to affect many of the crew, myself included. Yet I know that, paradoxically, it’s just this kind of assignment that requires us to stay at our most alert and efficient. So far, we’re staying on top of things; everything remains quiet in and around the Neutral Zone -- too quiet. I almost find myself wishing something would happen.

        Kirk made the log entry from his cabin as he dressed, though he wondered as he did so why he was in so much of a rush to get to the Bridge. He had technically overslept, since it was nearly an hour into his watch, but he had needed the sleep...and if anything significant had happened, Spock would have contacted his quarters and awakened him. Nonetheless, as he quickly finished dressing and hurried out the door, some strange sense of foreboding told him that his presence was -- or very soon would be -- required.

**********

        When Kirk stepped out of the elevator, however, all appeared to be peace and quiet on the Bridge. Spock turned toward him as he approached and a look of understanding passed between them as the Vulcan got up from the center seat to return command to Kirk; he knew the Captain never overslept unless he had lost a substantial amount of sleep over the last few days -- as Spock knew he had recently. It was, therefore, unnecessary to comment on it.
“Any developments?” Kirk asked, mainly out of habit, as he sat down.
“None so far,” Spock replied as he stepped up to his seat at his own station.
Kirk sighed, watching the main viewer in silence for a time and turning back toward Spock, found his Science Officer completely absorbed in his scanner readings. “Find something?” Kirk asked.
Spock glanced up briefly before returning his attention to his instruments. “A momentary blip… possibly a power surge, but if so, I am unable to identify its source,” he remarked.
“A power surge—”Kirk whirled back to the main viewer. “Then something is out there!” He carefully examined the starfield shown by the viewer, and it suddenly seemed that certain areas were distorted, as if he were seeing the stars through a heat haze.
Suspicious but also uncertain as to whether or not his eyes were playing tricks on him, Kirk glanced back at Spock for verification and found that he, too, was studying the viewer intently.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“If you are thinking that that might be the distortion effect produced by a cloaked Klingon ship, I would say that is a distinct possibility,” Spock opined, turning back to his instruments.
At that moment, several things happened at once. As Kirk turned back to the main viewer, a Klingon ship materialized before them. “Captain!” Sulu shouted.
“I see it.” Kirk turned back to Spock. “Spock?”
“Sensors show it as a K’tinga class cruiser, holding position some eighty thousand kilometers from us,” Spock informed him, then looked around at Kirk in puzzlement. “Most odd, Captain. They have taken no defensive action--not even raised shields.”
 
 

“Hmm.” Kirk didn’t believe for a minute that a Klingon ship would venture so close to their own Neutral Zone boundary simply to socialize with a Federation starship. As Kirk was about to ask Uhura to hail the Klingons, Spock got up from his seat and started toward Kirk, a confused expression on his face.
“Jim, the Klingons are activating—” That was all he had time to say before his body was enveloped
in the shimmering light of what Kirk recognized as a Klingon transporter beam.
“Spock!” he cried in alarm. But Spock was gone. “Sulu, go to red alert.”
“Aye, sir...red alert.”
Kirk whirled toward Uhura. “Get me ship-to-ship!”
Uhura started to comply, then looked at him again. “The Klingon ship is hailing us, Captain!” she told him in surprise.
“Intercom,” Kirk ordered, turning back toward the main viewer. The starfield disappeared, to be replaced by the image of a Klingon whom Kirk immediately recognized. The passing years hardly seemed
to have touched him.
“Kor!”
“Presently in command of Klingon Imperial cruiser Katara. Good, Captain...you remember. Now we can dispense with the preliminaries,” Kor confirmed, seeming pleased. Whether it was Kirk’s memory, his success in abducting Spock, or something as yet unknown that was the source of his pleasure, Kirk was uncertain.
“So you’re behind this. What have you done with my First Officer?” Kirk demanded.
“Nothing--so far,” Kor replied. “Of course, I do have plans for him. He doesn’t know it, but he just volunteered to be a test subject for a certain...experiment we’re engaged in.”
“ ‘Experiment’?” Kirk repeated warily.
“With a new type of mind-sifter developed by a talented Romulan specialist we’ve employed for
just this purpose,” Kor elaborated, appearing to derive great amusement from Kirk’s reined but increasingly obvious concern for Spock. “She is sworn to produce a device which, unlike the earlier model which your Spock found so easy to resist, it will be as effective on Vulcans as it is on Humans.”
Kirk fought to keep the shock from showing on his face as Kor continued.
“Naturally, we needed a Vulcan to test it on--so imagine my pleasure when it was learned that the Enterprise had been assigned border patrol. Now we can get our test subject without even entering Federa-tion space.”
“Kor, if you think I’m going to just sit here and let you have your way with Spock's mind—”
“You have no choice,” Kor retorted, the smile disappearing from his face. “We’ll return him to you after we’re through, of course...”
“You mean whatever is left of him!” Kirk interrupted, in growing impatience.
Kor ignored him, continuing in a dangerous tone. “...and I warn you against any rescue attempts before then. You no doubt remember that I promised to have the Vulcan dissected; the idea still interests me, and I'm sure it would interest our scientists even more.” He glanced at someone Kirk could not see. “Moni-tor the Enterprise for intership transporter activity. If they try to beam anyone from their ship to ours or vice versa, I want to be notified immediately.”
Kor now turned back to Kirk, and the smile returned to his face, the smile of a predatory animal who has his prey backed into a corner. “There, Captain. As the Earth expression goes, you’re covered. I’ll contact you when we’re ready to return Spock to you. Kor out.” He had forgotten, for the moment, that animals of prey were at their most dangerous when cornered.
 
 
 

Shortly after his discussion with Kirk, Kor left his Bridge and went down to Medical to check on his Vulcan prisoner. Spock was being kept in an isolated section of Sickbay that had been specially equipped
in accordance with the Romulan doctor’s instructions. Personally, Kor had no use for Romulans--and this Romulan in particular--but the order to take full advantage of her special knowledge and abilities had come directly from Klingon High Command, and Kor knew that his personal feelings on the matter would have to be set aside. He had been honored with the responsibility of insuring the success of this new mind-sifter as a weapon against the Federation, and he intended to see that they did not regret entrusting him with such an important mission.
As Kor expected, he found Spock strapped into bed asleep, with the Romulan and two of his own nurses nearby, monitoring his condition. The Klingon nurses saluted as he entered; the Romulan merely looked around at him with a sullen expression on her face.
“Well, Dr. Tashirya? How is our prisoner?” Kor demanded.
“Sedated and resting comfortably at the moment,” the Romulan woman replied. “He appears to be
in excellent health, but some readings are definitely off the Vulcan norm. In other words, Commander, the subject is not a full-blooded Vulcan, and whatever results I get may not be entirely conclusive.”
Kor wasn’t about to admit to not having known this. “He blocked our earlier mind-sifter just as well as any full-blooded Vulcan, Doctor. I think he’ll do,” he countered. “And you, of all people, should be the last to complain about his...bad blood.”
The expression of barely controlled anger on Tashirya’s face in response to this was most satisfying to Kor. “Contact me when he awakens. I want to be here when you start the tests,” he told her, turning to go and leaving Tashirya fuming silently.

 

On the Enterprise, Kirk was briefing McCoy on what had happened to Spock and they were dis- cussing the situation as Kirk paced back and forth across the Bridge in frustration.
“Jim, we’ve got to do something!” McCoy insisted.
Kirk whirled to face him. “Don’t you think I know that, Doctor? How can I get Spock out of there without putting him in worse danger than he is now? They’re monitoring us for transporter activity.”
“Would Kor really...dissect him?” McCoy questioned.
“He has never impressed me as someone who's in the habit of making idle threats,” Kirk noted, turning to Uhura. "Contact Starfleet and advise them of our situation--tell them that I take full responsibility for any treaty violations that result from rescuing Spock.”
“Yes, sir.” Uhura moved to comply, still speaking to Kirk as she did so. “You realize, of course, that at this distance, it’s going to take at least three hours to reach our nearest base.”
“Of course.”
Starfleet had bases near the Neutral Zone, but unfortunately, none were this close to the border in the sector they were patrolling. Kirk considered the situation for another moment, then addressed Uhura again.
“When you’re finished with that, contact Engineering and have Scotty meet me in my cabin.” Then looking toward helm/navigation and back at McCoy in turn: “Sulu, take over here--contact me immediately if you hear from Kor again, or if that ship so much as looks cockeyed at us. Bones, with me; maybe between the three of us we can come up with something.”

Two hours later, Spock finally awoke...and as his eyes focused, he realized he could not move. Before him was the countenance of an unusual-looking Romulan woman, whose dark golden hair was
pulled back in braids that apparently fastened at the back of her head. Her expression of controlled curi-osity, uncertainty, and regret told him that she took no joy in what she was about to do to him, but her manner was one of resigned determination, and Spock’s muscles tightened instinctively as he looked at
her.
 
 

“Where am I?” he asked.
“You're a prisoner of the Klingon Empire, presently being held aboard Imperial cruiser Katara, commanded by Kor,” the blonde Romulan told him.
“Kor...” Suddenly the memories came flooding back. Spock had been standing on the Enterprise Bridge, talking to Jim, when the scene had suddenly dissolved and he had found himself in a Klingon transporter chamber. He remembered being surrounded by Klingons, this same Romulan approaching him with a hypo--then nothing.
“Why am I here?”
“I needed a Vulcan test subject for the new mind-control machine I’m working on for the Klingons, and Kor apparently chose you.”
Spock thought he detected a trace of distaste in her voice as she spoke of Kor, but chose not to comment on it, instead merely taking note of it and filing it away in a corner of his mind for future reference. As the effects of the sedative gradually passed, Spock also found himself wondering why a Romulan would be building something destined to become a weapon for the Klingons rather than something that could be used by her own people. At the moment, however, his thoughts were interrupted by the Romulan's voice as she spoke to him again.
“Kor tells me that your name is Spock and that you're second-in-command of the Federation ship Enterprise. Is this true?”
Spock got the impression that she was merely making conversation rather than digging for informa- tion, but thought it best that he remain silent, anyway.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” she continued, a strange expression of understanding in her eyes. “I gave you a complete examination while you were asleep. You’re a very interesting specimen, Spock. You’re half-Human, aren’t you?”
Spock was getting tired of the prolonged suspense and of the Romulan’s apparent attempt to treat this as a social occasion. “I do not see why that should be any concern of yours,” he retorted coolly, with controlled impatience.
Tashirya was given no time to think of a response to this, for one of the Klingon nurses returned. “Notify Commander Kor that the subject is awake and we can begin the tests as soon as he arrives,” she ordered the nurse, suddenly all-business again. As the nurse went to activate the intercom, however, and Tashirya’s eyes returned to Spock’s face, he saw again the expression of mingled regret and resignation within them.
Kor arrived a few minutes later. His eyes met Spock’s for an instant, and an expression of recognition and apprehension flitted briefly across the Vulcan’s face before he was able to suppress it.
It amused Kor, though there was no humor in the death’s-head smile he gave Spock in return. “Greetings, Spock. I see your memory matches that of your Captain. Yes, I brought you here. I regret
the suddenness of your departure, but you would hardly have accepted a formal invitation. By the way, speaking of your Captain, don’t expect any help from him. I’m afraid I’ve put him at something of a disadvantage; specifically, if he makes a single move to rescue you, he effectively donates your body
to Klingon science.”
Spock refused to allow Kor the satisfaction of seeing his reaction to the Klingon’s gloating.
Kor, meanwhile, found himself a seat a short distance away. “All right, Tashirya, get on with your demonstration. Let’s see how this device of yours works,” he ordered.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

In spite of his position, Spock’s usual scientific curiosity was aroused, and found himself listening intently as Tashirya spoke. “As you know, Commander, I’ve made extensive studies of Vulcan physiology and psychology. You insist on referring to the machine as a ‘mind-sifter’, though that’s not entirely accu- rate,” she began. “A better name might be ‘mind-inverter’, since what it essentially does is turn the mind inside out. It literally exposes the mind, or rather, its contents. The subject can be made to relive any painful moment he has ever experienced, or it can be altered to be even more painful. Mental images are converted to visual and presented in this viewer, called a ‘thought-display.’ In this way, information can be extracted easily--no matter how much resistance is offered.”
“Interesting,” Kor commented. “However, I don’t have to be an expert on Vulcans to know that their resistance is so high that none of our previous mind-sifters have been able to penetrate it. Are you so certain that this ‘mind-inverter’ will be any different?”
“It was designed to be,” Tashirya returned. “You see, one thing no Vulcan can bear is having his inner thoughts and especially emotions...laid bare before strangers or enemies. He will resist--and the more he resists, the deeper the machine reaches into his mind. And, presumably, the worse the...results.”
“You’d have some idea what to expect, then.”
“Yes.” Tashirya did not elaborate. It was enough that she had to subject this Vulcan who had done nothing to harm her (enemy alien though he might be), to such torture, without also dwelling on the degree and specific nature of the suffering it would cause him.
While they talked, Spock had been surreptitiously testing the strength of the restraints binding him to the table, but his efforts proved futile; the straps were made out of some unfamiliar and exceptionally strong material, and it was clear that he was there to stay. He realized abruptly that Tashirya was watching him, but noticed also that there was nothing resembling anger or reproachfulness to her facial expression. It was more as if she wanted to say something to him--possibly words of encouragement or at least apology--but either could not find the words or was too intimidated by Kor to even search for them.
“Well?” Kor demanded. “What are you waiting for?”
Drawing a deep breath, Tashirya began. Spock watched her and the machine above his head as she pulled down something that resembled a large handlebar with an opening in it and positioned the sides so that his head was in the opening, adjusting it until the ends touched his temples and his head was held firmly between them. She then positioned the viewer so that everyone in the room (including Spock) could see the thought display, and summoned one of the nurses.
“Kara will operate the controls, except in alteration mode,” she announced. “I will monitor the bioscan and thought display. Kara, turn the machine on...start at Level One.”
Kara obeyed, and Spock was immediately aware of something forcing its way into his mind. There was the same revulsion at the forced alien mental contact that he had experienced under Kor’s mind-sifter on Organia, but nothing his mental shields could not withstand.
“Level Two,” Tashirya ordered.
“Level Two,” Kara confirmed, making the adjustment.
Spock tensed perceptibly as the ‘something’ pushed deeper into his mind, but so far his shields remained untested.
“Level Three.” Tashirya’s eyes were on the bioscan as she spoke, though so far the readings remained within normal Vulcan range.
Kara made another adjustment. “Level Three attained.”
Now the unwelcome presence within Spock’s mind began to press itself against his shields with more and more force. Spock closed his eyes to enhance his concentration as he sought to reinforce his shields, but otherwise gave no external indications of the mind-inverter’s effects.
 
 
 
 
 

Tashirya’s next words were for Kor’s benefit, though she kept her attention on Spock. “Normally, Level Four would be sufficient for any race without the Vulcans’ natural shielding abilities. On the other hand, even a Vulcan would be in danger of permanent damage from anything beyond Level Six,” she informed him from behind a barely-maintained mask of clinical detachment, then spoke to Kara again. “Level Four, Kara.”
The Klingon nurse complied. “Level Four attained.”
The thing in Spock’s mind continued to exert pressure against his shields, now beginning to break them down as it probed deeper and deeper. As Spock struggled to maintain the shields, the effort it was costing him began to show externally and on the bioscan; his breath began to quicken, and the readings began to fluctuate.
“Your mind-inverter seems to be working as expected,” Kor observed.
“Yes, it does,” Tashirya agreed, making it nothing more than a statement of fact.
“Why the lack of professional pride? You should be pleased.”
“I’m a physician and psychologist, not a torturer,” she retorted. “This is one of the reasons Romu- lans never take prisoners; there's always the temptation to take advantage. And besides, once the mind-inverter has proven itself, it becomes the property of the Klingon Empire and I have nothing more to do
with it.”
“What you call torture we prefer to think of as a means to an end, one we’re willing to use whenever necessary,” Kor returned.
Tashirya returned her attention to Spock; his condition was unchanged, except that color was begin-ning to drain from his face. “Take it to Level Five,” she told Kara reluctantly.
“Level Five,” Kara confirmed, adjusting the necessary controls one last time.
Within Spock’s mind, the malevolent presence seemed to grow claws and fangs. It tore through his shields with such force and finality that Spock knew that his only means of protection was gone for good. Tashirya strove to ignore his increasingly obvious discomfort, hoping she was at least keeping her empathy for him from showing outwardly. It would do neither of them any good for Kor to get the idea that she had gone soft on her test subject.
“Viewer on,” she ordered abruptly, with forced harshness. “Begin search mode.”
Kara turned her attention to a different set of controls, touching one. Kor stood up, watching in fascination as images sped by in reverse on the viewer.
“Slow it down, Kara. Point seven-five,” Tashirya instructed.
Kara obeyed again, and all watched as the images slowed down enough to be seen and understood.
“Are you looking for something specific?” Kor asked.
Tashirya hid her discomfort at finding him literally looking over her shoulder. “Not at the moment,” she replied.
For the next several minutes, she divided her attention between the viewer, the bioscan, and Spock. His eyes were open now as he, too, watched the viewer through a haze of agony, realizing for the first time what was being done to him and inwardly rebelling--but helpless to stop it. Needles of pain ripped through his mind, tearing every thought and memory from deep within him and translating them into visual images to be displayed on the viewer. And somehow during the increasingly harsh and agonizing probe-and-transfer process, Spock was mentally reliving everything within him, pleasant or not, even as it appeared on the viewer.
Tashirya studied his reactions to certain images with interest and a certain sense of guilt, but was careful to keep the latter hidden. “This is almost...too easy, Commander. His mind is full of painful memo-ries.”
 
 
 
 

“So you’ll have a greater choice than you expected,” Kor snapped, fortunately too impatient to notice the telltale hesitation in her speech, and eager to see the final test of the mind-inverter’s usefulness. “Go on, choose one and do something with it. My government wants proof that this machine of yours can provide an effective threat.”
“That should be no problem,” Tashirya assured him coolly. She observed Spock again and found him trembling, his face colorless, eyes frozen open in horror, both seeing and not seeing the images on
the viewer. She looked back and forth curiously between Spock and the viewer. “Hold, Kara,” she said suddenly. The image froze. “I think we’ve found our target. Forward search, speed point two-five. Look, Commander--the dark background indicates a dream or nightmare image.”
Neither Tashirya nor Kor could have known the significance of what they discovered: Spock’s previously deeply repressed memories of his last pon farr and the Vulcan ceremony during which he had nearly killed Kirk--followed by the nightmare that had assailed him constantly for the first few weeks afterwards, a nightmare in which Kirk had not survived.
“All right, Kara, we’re going to switch,” Tashirya informed the nurse. “You monitor the bioscan while I operate the alteration controls.” They switched sides of the examination table, each taking the other’s previous position. “Now, Commander, because the subject simultaneously experiences what you see on the viewer, any changes I make there also change the subject’s memory accordingly. In this case, the removal
of a single memory fragment will change the subject's memory of his entire past from that moment on... thus.”
As Tashirya singled out Spock’s memory of the moment after they had beamed up from Vulcan and he had found out that Kirk was still alive, Spock--already in agony after having had his mind torn open and being forced to relive these memories and nightmares--finally succumbed to fear. With his sudden aware-
ness of what was about to be taken from him, Spock’s mind was plunged into chaos and desperation. He sent out a silent cry of anguish to the only person he knew capable of perceiving it.
But Tashirya and Kor heard only the first attempt Spock had made to communicate with them since before the mind-inverter had been activated, little more than a hoarse whisper: “Please, no ...do not do this...”

Kirk, meanwhile, was pacing back and forth in his cabin. “We seem to be getting nowhere fast. Neither of you like my idea, but I don’t hear you coming up with anything better.”
“What we need is a diversion--something to keep the Klingons’ attention off our transporter long enough to beam over,” Scotty decided.
“Like what?” McCoy demanded. “If we do anything that Kor chooses to take as an hostile act, Spock will surely suffer for it.”
“Exactly,” Kirk agreed. “Scotty, they’re going to be monitoring ship-to-ship transporter activity--meaning one transporting back and forth between the Enterprise and Katara. They won’t expect someone
to be transporting from a secondary origin point--like a shuttlecraft.”
“But they’ll see the shuttlecraft being launched,” Scotty pointed out.
“Not if we keep the Enterprise in their line of view and the shuttlecraft behind us,” Kirk insisted. “Once it’s launched, we have it hold at station-keeping directly aft of us.”
“It’s still risky, Jim,” McCoy told him.
“I know. But we don’t have any choice; the longer we delay, the worse Spock may be hurt.”
The looks exchanged by McCoy and Scotty indicated that they were ready to give in. “All right,” Scotty acquiesced. “Do you want me to handle the transporter?”
“Maybe you’d better. And notify the hangar deck--I want a shuttlecraft as soon as they can get one ready.”
Scotty nodded and turned to leave. It was just then that Spock’s agonized mental cry reached Kirk’s mind. Jim! Jim, please stop them ...
 
 

The thought broke off abruptly, in the midst of searing pain, and the force of it nearly floored Kirk. “Spock--!” Kirk appeared to McCoy to be in the process of collapsing, and he was at Kirk’s side instantly.
“Jim! What is it?” he asked in alarm, catching Kirk as he started to fall.
Kirk straightened slowly. “I was just...in mental contact with Spock. He’s hurt—they’ve done something terrible to his mind. I’ve got to get to him before anything worse happens.”
“So what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”
Kirk met McCoy’s eyes in a momentary acknowledgment of their mutual concern for their Vulcan friend, then both headed for the door.

It had taken only moments to reprogram Spock’s memory once the memory fragment concerning Kirk’s survival of the ceremony had been deleted, but remaining oblivious to Spock’s reaction was proving to be more of a challenge to Tashirya than she had expected. Bioscan readings had settled down almost to normal and his body had become quiet again--unnaturally so--but his eyes bore an empty, haunted expres- sion, and his face was streaked with tears.
Kor, however, was quite satisfied. He normally preferred not to be present when these mind-sifter devices were being used, but he had this time been ordered to personally verify its effectiveness. He took no particular joy in what Tashirya viewed as torture, but there were times it was necessary; Command would be pleased with her mind-inverter. It was regrettable that such a formidable adversary as this Vulcan had to go through such an ordeal--and even more regrettable that he could not be allowed to return to the Enterprise alive, as he had realized since talking to Kirk.
“Most impressive, Tashirya. My report to Klingon High Command will be quite favorable.”
“I kept my part of the bargain,” she stated, doing what she considered a masterful job of hiding the growing feeling of nausea in the pit of her stomach.
“And we will keep ours--all in due time,” Kor assured her, with seeming sincerity.
Tashirya, however, didn’t trust him. “I’ll prepare Spock for his return to the Enterprise,” she told him, turning back to the machine’s controls and reaching for those that were meant to reverse the memory alterations.
“Don’t bother, Doctor. He’s not going back.”
Tashirya stared at him. “But you told his Captain—”
“I’ve reconsidered,” Kor interrupted coolly. “This wonderful device of yours will be worthless if the Federation finds out and manages to get their hands on it. I can’t take the chance that Spock might return to normal and tell all he knows about it.”
“Then what are you going to do with him?” Tashirya asked.
“Oh, eventually I’ll have to kill him, but for the time being, I think I’ll let you study the after-effects of your mind-inverter,” Kor decided.
Tashirya didn’t like his casual tone, and the fact that Kor was now planning to keep Spock here did not bode well for her. Kor, meanwhile, went to activate a desk intercom. “Security, this is Kor. Send two guards to Sickbay. The Vulcan prisoner will be taken to the Detention Area.”
“Security acknowledges. Two on the way.”
“Commander, that’s hardly necessary,” Tashirya protested. “I can take him myself. He’s in no condition to offer any resistance.”
“Standard procedure,” Kor told her flatly. While they waited for the guards, Tashirya replaced the bars holding Spock’s head in place and unstrapped him from the table. He rolled over onto his side and curled up into a fetal position; she reached instinctively but cautiously to help him up, but he pulled away from her touch. Just then, the guards arrived and Kor directed them to the table. “Take him.”
 
 
 
 
 

Tashirya found herself elbowed out of the way as two Klingons moved forward, grabbed Spock and pulled him roughly to his feet. However, prolonged exposure to the mind-inverter had left him so weak he could barely stand, let alone walk, and they half-dragged and half-carried him through the corridors to the Detention Area. Tashirya followed watchfully, her thoughts filled with controlled disgust.
At last they arrived in the Detention Area. Spock was taken into a cell and literally thrown to the deck--but before Tashirya could follow him inside, the two guards activated the forcefield across the door and proceeded to beat and kick the already virtually limp Vulcan.
“Stop it!” Tashirya commanded, having finally had all she could take. “Stop it before I report both
of you to Kor!” She estimated that a full five minutes went by, however, before the guards tired of their sport and went back to the door to deactivate the forcefield so she could enter, which she did slowly, now glaring at them in open anger.
“Kor does not take orders from Romulans,” one told her condescendingly. “In any case, what happens to him is no longer of any concern; he’s as good as dead.”
They assumed their posts outside the door and Tashirya started toward Spock, still shouting over
her shoulder at them. “How can I make an accurate assessment of mental after-effects when they’re in-fluenced by unrelated physical injuries? Animals! What honor do Klingons find in attacking an opponent who is incapable of fighting back?”
They ignored her, however, and Tashirya returned her attention to Spock, helping him up on to a nearby cot. Spock curled up again--or tried to--since it was now obvious that his pain was no longer strictly mental or emotional and he could not move without difficulty...and backed away from her as she sat beside him on the cot. She took out her portable bioscan and examined him briefly; he appeared to have a couple of cracked ribs and was going to be sore and bruised for the next few days, but that seemed to be the full extent of his injuries.
Once again, Tashirya tried to touch him. This time, perhaps because he was too tired and sore, Spock did not react, but she could feel his muscles stiffening again in distaste and distrust as she rested her hand gently on his forehead.
“You have nothing more to fear from me,” she said, trying to soothe him.
It was doubtful that Spock understood her words, but something about the tone of her voice had a calming effect on him; he slowly began to uncurl himself and tried to relax.
“Yes, try to sleep now.”
Perhaps in time, Tashirya thought, she might be able to prove to Spock that he could trust her, given the chance--but he had no reason to now, in his condition and after what she had already done to him, so Tashirya finally decided not to waste any more breath trying to convince him.
 

II
 

        Scotty had beamed Kirk and McCoy directly to the room in the Klingon Sickbay where Spock had been held, but of course he was gone by the time they arrived. It seemed to take far
too long to locate him, even with the help of McCoy’s tricorder, but they finally reached the Detention Area. The sound of phaser fire brought Tashirya back to her feet, and she ran to the door of her cell, where she found the guards unconscious on the deck—and standing over them were two Humans whom she recognized immediately from the mental images Spock had revealed on the thought display viewer.
        They ignored her, now intent on deactivating the force-field that still blocked the door.
“Damn—I was afraid of this,” Kirk muttered. “I’ve never seen a force-field control panel of this design before. Must’ve upgraded everything to match the new ship design.” Naturally, this was the first chance Kirk had ever had to see a K’tinga-class cruiser from the inside.
        “Hurry, Jim. The Klingons could pick us up on the internal sensors any time,” McCoy
reminded him urgently.
        “I know. I’m hoping I’ve bought us some time by sneaking up on them like this,” Kirk returned.
        Tashirya silently watched him fumble with the controls for a few minutes, then, in obvious impatience and frustration, take out his phaser again. At this point, she finally made her presence known. “Captain, don’t. If that control panel is destroyed, Kor’s entire Security force will be alerted,” she warned him.
        Kirk and McCoy stared at her, startled and distrustful. “Who the hell are you?” Kirk demanded.
        Tashirya came as close as she could to the door without touching the force-field. “All you need to know right now is that I’m someone who can tell you how to deactivate the force-field,” she replied evasively.
        Kirk realized abruptly that she must be the Romulan “specialist” Kor had mentioned. It occurred to him that he should not trust her, but he was rapidly running out of time and alterna- tives. “Do it,” he said finally.
        “It operates on a color-code sequence, Captain. Push the red button first, then the blue one twice, then the red one twice,” she instructed him.
        “Red-blue-blue-red-red,” Kirk echoed, punching it in as he said the words. Immediately, the force-field-on light around the edge of the door went out, and Kirk quickly stepped through, followed by McCoy. Again ignoring Tashirya, they hurried toward Spock, Kirk instinctively reaching his side first.
        Spock, who had been lying quietly on his side and trying to rest, stared at Kirk with an increasingly worried expression on his face.
        “Spock—” Kirk stopped abruptly, seeing something in the dark eyes he had never seen before. It was not a lack of recognition; quite the opposite. It was more as if the sight of Kirk was physically painful for Spock.
        He turned away from the sound of Kirk’s voice, burying his face against the cot. “No… no, please… please leave me alone,” he half-whispered at last, in a muffled and agonized voice.
        Alarmed and confused, Kirk whirled toward Tashirya. “What did you do to him?” he demanded.
        Tashirya approached him hesitantly. “His memory has been altered, Captain—specific- ally, his memory of you,” she told him factually.
        “What do you mean? How?”
 
 
 

        She closed the distance between them. “There was a Vulcan ceremony a number of years ago during which he almost killed you—and a nightmare that tormented him for some time after- wards. Do you remember?”
        Kirk nodded, his eyes blazing in anger, and only his overriding concern for Spock’s recovery kept him from strangling her then and there. “And you made him relive those memories! You damn—”
        “I did more than that,” Tashirya interrupted, clearly taking no pride in what she knew she had to reveal. “I altered his memory of that time by removing from it the moment in your Sickbay when he found you alive. Now the nightmare has become real; in his mind, you are long dead and he sees you only as an apparition—a nonexistent reminder of his guilt in destroying the one thing he valued above all else.”
        “My God…” Kirk was too shaken to pay any attention to the note of regret he thought he perceived in her voice and instead simply turned to McCoy. “Bones, can you verify any of that?”
        McCoy was already seated beside Spock on the cot, had his medscanner out and was run- ning it around various areas of Spock’s head. “There are indications of some kind of deep shock … evidence of massive emotional and psychological trauma,” he confirmed.
        Kirk looked back accusingly at Tashirya. “Is it reversible?”
        She was spared having to answer by McCoy’s interruption. “Wait a minute, Jim—that’s not the end of it,” he continued, running the medscanner over the rest of Spock’s body. “There’s physical damage, too. Somebody beat the daylights out of him—two fractured ribs, minor inter- nal bleeding, and a lot of bruising on his upper body. There’s no way he’s going to leave here under his own power.”
        Kirk cast another accusing look at Tashirya. “I thought you and Kor were only interested in his mind!”
        “I was—that is, Kor was. Captain, I never hurt him physically—on my honor as a Romu- lan; that was the guards’ doing. I was about to see to his wounds when you arrived,” she tried to assure him.
        “You’re a doctor?” There was no way Kirk could keep the incredulity out of his voice.
        “Yes,” Tashirya replied. At the moment, further elaboration or explanation seemed point- less—and the Human would not have believed her if she had attempted it.
        Kirk returned his gaze briefly to Spock, wondering what possible reason the Klingons might have had for physically abusing a prisoner who was already beyond the capacity of being
a threat to them; he then looked back at Tashirya and repeated the question he had asked earlier. “Can you reverse his mental condition?”
        “If I could get to my mind-inverter, theoretically. But Kor won’t give me access—he wants Spock to remain as he is. He never really intended to return him to you.”
        Again Kirk looked back at Spock, not really surprised but also not wanting to dwell on what Kor’s plans for the Vulcan might really be.
        Spock, meanwhile, had become quiet again. As Kirk watched, McCoy tried to comfort him. “Spock…do you remember me?” the Doctor asked softly.
        Spock regarded him uncertainly but nodded in response.
        “Good. Now, don’t worry; we—uh, I’ll have you out of here in a minute.” McCoy hastily corrected himself in mid-sentence, realizing that, at least for the time being, they would have to assume that Spock would not recognize Kirk’s existence in his present state of mind. McCoy put away his medikit and rolled Spock carefully into a more comfortable position on his back, then rested one hand cautiously on Spock’s shoulder and the other near Spock’s face on what appar- ently passed among Klingons as a pillow—a raised but not-very-soft area at the head of the cot.
        With difficulty, Spock moved a little closer to him and reached toward the hand that lay near his face, squeezing it weakly in understanding and appreciation.
 

        Kirk activated his communicator. “Kirk to Enterprise.”
        Instead of being answered by Sulu, the call was automatically transferred to the Trans- porter Room. “Enterprise. Scott here.”
        “Scotty, stand by—we’re going to need to get out of here fast. Have our pilot take back the shuttlecraft; we won’t be using it on the return trip because there’s not going to be enough time. And contact Dr. Chapel and tell her to have a medtable waiting in the Transporter Room.”
        “Aye, Captain. Anything else?”
        Kirk could see McCoy trying frantically to get his attention. “Just a minute, Scotty… yes, Doctor?”
        McCoy nodded toward Tashirya. “She’s the only one who knows what she did to Spock. Don’t you think we’d better plan on taking her along?”
        “You’re right; I’d almost forgotten about that.” Kirk spoke into his communicator again. “Scotty, better also have some Security people standing by. We’re going to be bringing a…
guest.”
        “Understood,” Scott replied.
        Before Tashirya could decide how to react to this, there was suddenly a great deal of noise outside the cell. She ran to the door and found a large group of Klingons bursting through the Detention Area entrance, Kor himself among them. “It’s Kor!” she cried over her shoulder. In one motion, she grabbed Kirk’s discarded phaser and fired into the attacking Klingons, downing a number of them instantly, but Kor and one or two others rolled clear—Kor obviously heading for the cell door’s force-field controls.
        Behind her, McCoy lifted Spock off the cot gently but with difficulty and carried him awkwardly as he and Kirk ran to join Tashirya. Standing almost in the doorway as Kor deacti- vated  the force-field, she took aim not at him but at the desk intercom controls nearby, and as soon as the force-field was gone, fired her appropriated phaser at it, just missing Kor as he tried
to get back out of the way. Kirk yanked her clear of the smoke and sparks that rapidly began to fill the office area, back into the cell, and grabbed back his phaser as he did so.
        Kor, barely able to see them now for the smoke, was in a fury. “Enjoy your moment of triumph, Captain—it will be brief! I’m not finished with Spock yet—or with you!” he told Kirk in a voice that only hinted at the real amount of anger behind it.
        As the remaining Klingons surged blindly but determinedly forward and Tashirya started to draw a dagger against Kor from within her uniform, Kirk deactivated his communicator again, shouting into it urgently. “Scotty, now! Get us out of here!”
        The Klingons stopped dead in their tracks as the three Federation prisoners and their Rom ulan “assistant” began to dematerialize and finally faded from sight. Those that were conscious ran out into the corridor for some needed fresh air, and Kor sent someone off to the nearest wall intercom to contact Maintenance. Kor’s First Officer appeared at his side, still coughing intermit- tently. “What of the Romulan, Commander? Do we take her back?”
        Kor waited until his own coughing had subsided, now making an obvious effort to regain his composure and reveal no sign of his frustration to his subordinate. “If it were up to me, they could keep the woman and good riddance. Unfortunately, she’s the only one qualified to operate her mind-inverter without supervision, and our orders are to hold her here until the machine can be duplicated and our people trained to operate it. We’ll get her back, and the Vulcan, too. Kirk would give her back rather than risk treaty violation over a Romulan who just ‘tortured’ his second-in-command.”
 
 
 
 
 

        Christine Chapel had learned of Spock’s abduction at the same time as McCoy, so when the call came summoning a medical team to the Transporter Room, she was ready—having alrea- dy decided to go along herself if Spock was that badly hurt. And she and McCoy had known he would be at the outset; any time a Starfleet officer, a Klingon, and a mind-sifter were brought together, it was generally a foregone conclusion that said Starfleet officer would be left with scars
--mental, if not also physical.
        She and a nurse were present with a medtable, therefore, when Kirk, McCoy, Spock and a Romulan woman materialized on the platform. Her eyes immediately focused on Spock as he lay cradled in McCoy’s arms, his head on the Doctor’s shoulder, and her eyes did not leave him
as McCoy carried him over to her. “What’s happened to him?” Christine asked in alarm, helping McCoy settle the Vulcan onto the medtable.
        “I’ll explain when we get to Sickbay,” McCoy returned hurriedly. “Let’s go.”
        Behind them, two guards quickly disarmed Tashirya as she stepped down off the trans-porter platform, remaining then on either side of her. “Take her to the Brig, sir?” one guard asked of Kirk.
“No, we’ll need her in Sickbay. Bring her and follow me,” Kirk told them.

        A few minutes later Spock was settled into a diagnostic bed in an isolated and currently unused room in Sickbay; McCoy gave him a sedative so he could immobilize Spock’s ribs before treating his other wounds. Kirk watched anxiously from across the room, out of Spock’s line of view, with Tashirya, but it was some time before McCoy felt confident enough about Spock’s
condition to leave him alone with Christine.
        Finally, however, he went to join Kirk. “How is he?” Kirk asked.
        “Physically, he’s going to be fine—although he’s going to have to spend the next few days on his back,” McCoy informed him. “However, mentally…” He looked at Tashirya. “I think you’d know more about that than I would.”
        “I know you’re going to have to have someone watching him every minute…preferably someone he trusts,” Tashirya replied, turning her attention to Kirk. “Captain, Spock never dis- cussed his nightmare with you in any detail, did he?”
        “No,” Kirk admitted reluctantly, reflecting on his own memories of Spock’s pon farr and the days immediately afterwards. “He seemed so…disturbed by it that I never had the heart to ask him to explain it in any more detail than he did. All I know is that it had something to do with the ceremony and me dying.”
        Tashirya nodded in acceptance of this. “I, on the other hand, ‘saw’ all of it, since the mind-inverter displays mental images on a thought display viewer, nightmares and all—and you
should know that there’s a point in this nightmare at which Spock stabs himself,” she revealed.
        Kirk was distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of this enemy alien having such intimate knowledge of Spock’s thoughts and emotions, and knew that Spock himself would have been em- barrassed by Kirk discussing them with her if he had been in his right mind, but at the moment they needed whatever input she could provide. “Doctor—” he began, then stopped and started over. “There are too many doctors around here. What’s your name?”
        “Most people just call me Tashirya or Dr. Tashirya,” she returned.
        “Tashirya, I think you’d better tell me about the rest of this nightmare. Under the circum- stances, I think Spock would understand why I need to know.”
 
 
 
 
 
 

        Tashirya nodded reluctantly and spent the next several minutes describing to Kirk and McCoy in as much detail as possible the mental images she had seen of the nightmare which had assaulted Spock so mercilessly after he had nearly killed Kirk at Koon-ut-kal-if-fee. It had begun with Kirk’s death at his hands, then Spock had immediately resigned and presented himself for arrest. The worst part of his nightmare, however, had been that in which Spock, imprisoned in the Brig and en route to a starbase for court-martial, had withdrawn behind a wall of grief and shame, refusing to even take part in his own defense, and finally attempting to take his own life.
        And occasionally, the few times when Spock had not awakened himself at that point out of sheer terror, the nightmare had continued to a rather vague conclusion: Spock, abandoned and alone, living out the remainder of his days in a remote penal colony.
        Kirk and McCoy both felt sick with empathy for their friend by the time Tashirya finished her account, each calling to mind his own memories of the events surrounding their first terrible experience with pon farr. “Thank you for telling us,” Kirk murmured weakly, at last. “My God, is that what his mind sees as reality now?”
        “Yes. Until and unless the mind-inverter’s effects can be reversed,” Tashirya confirmed regretfully.
        Kirk regarded her curiously. “Why did you help us rescue Spock, anyway? You didn’t even try to escape when you found out we were going to take you with us.”
        “Perhaps it seemed the lesser of two evils, or perhaps I’m motivated by guilt,” Tashirya reflected evasively, uncertain in her own mind about her reasons. At Kirk’s distrustful look, she added, “Captain, do you really think I would willingly allow myself to be transported from my home planet to build mental torture devices for the Klingons?”
        Kirk noted the bitterness in her voice but refused to spare it any further thought. “Kling- ons and Romulans have been allies any time it suited their purposes over the last several years; everybody in the Federation knows that.”
        “No such ‘alliance’ had anything to do with this incident,” Tashirya assured him coolly. “My government knows nothing about it—nor, in my case, would they be likely to care.”
        Kirk decided for the moment not to ask why; instead, he asked, “Were you kidnapped, too?”
        “Yes,” Tashirya replied, choosing for the time being not to elaborate, since she did not yet trust either of these Humans enough to tell them any more than that. And again, Kirk did not press her for details; there was no immediate need for the information—so far.
        “We could use your help with Spock,” McCoy admitted warily, speaking for Kirk as well as himself and Christine.
        “I’ll do all I can,” Tashirya promised, knowing even as she did so that they had little reason to believe her.
        At that moment, they were interrupted by Sulu’s voice over the intercom. “Bridge to Sickbay.”
        “Kirk here. What’s happened, Sulu?” Kirk responded.
        “I think you’d better get back up here, Captain—we’ve been contacted by the Katara again. I have Kor standing by on ship-to-ship.”
        When it rains, it pours, Kirk thought to himself. “All right, I’ll be right there. Kirk out.”
        “He must want me back,” Tashirya told him decidedly. “The mind-inverter is useless to them without me to operate it.”
        Kirk nodded understandingly. “I’ll deal with Kor. You stay here and do what you can to help Dr. McCoy.” As she and McCoy headed back toward Spock’s bed, Kirk turned to the two guards. “Keep an eye on her, but stay out of the way,” he advised.
        “Understood, Captain,” they acknowledged.
 
 

        And with that, Kirk turned and left for the Bridge.

        “Let’s hear what Kor has to say,” Kirk said as he stepped out of the elevator and onto the Bridge. “On intercom.”
        The starfield and the Klingon ship disappeared from the viewer, to be replaced by Kor’s face as he sat down in the center seat. “Captain, you have something that belongs to me. I want it back,” he told Kirk matter-of-factly, appearing to have calmed himself somewhat since Kirk’s  abrupt departure.
        “If you mean Tashirya, Commander, I’ll be glad to discuss her return as soon as Spock
is back to normal,” Kirk replied coolly, deciding it would be better, at least for the time being, if he did not reveal what Tashirya had told him by questioning Kor’s right of “ownership”. “Right now, we need her here.”
        It was clear from the expression on Kor’s face that this was not a satisfactory arrange-ment. “Her presence won’t do you any good; the mind-inverted was specifically designed to produce permanent effects. The only way they can be nullified is by the mind-inverter itself,” he retorted, matching Kirk’s tone. I’m going to give you exactly two hours to change your mind and return Tashirya to me, Captain. After that… well, I’m sure you don’t want to provoke an incident between the Empire and your Federation.”
        Kor ended the communication before Kirk could say anything, and he got up and began pacing thoughtfully around the Bridge.
        “Tashirya—is that the name of the Romulan you brought back with you?” asked Sulu, who, like the rest of the Bridge crew, had not been given many details about their “guest”.
        Kirk nodded silently.
        “What are you going to do with her, Captain?” Uhura asked. “Give her back to Kor?”
        “No, she seems too important to him,” Kirk decided. “I think the best idea is to get her
to the nearest starbase and let Starfleet Command decide what to do with her.” Kirk paused, then turned his attention toward the Helm/Navigation stations. “Sulu, keep those shields raised; Kor won’t be able to beam her over himself like he did Spock if their transporters can’t penetrate the shielding to get a fix on her coordinates.”
        Sulu nodded in acknowledgment.
        “Now, plot a course for the nearest starbase.”
        Sulu punched up a chart on his personal viewer and examined it briefly. “That would be Starbase 28—ETA fourteen days at maximum speed.”
        Kirk stopped pacing finally and started for the elevator door. “On my order, you will
lay in and execute. In the meantime, keep an eye on the Katara—let’s let Kor sweat it out for a while.”

        Again standing in the doorway of the isolation room, Kirk watched in silence for a mom- ent as McCoy and Tashirya hovered over Spock, Tashirya still shadowed by the guards, until finally he was able to catch McCoy’s attention. McCoy went to join him.
        “How’s he doing?” Kirk asked.
        “I’ve finished treating him, but he’s going to be asleep for another hour or so,” McCoy told him.
        “And Tashirya?”
        “So far, so good. She seems genuinely remorseful and interested in helping undo what she’s done to him,” McCoy remarked thoughtfully. “Of course, I’d be able to tell you more if I’d been around her longer…”
 
 
 
 
        “As it turns out, you’re going to have ample opportunity to test her sincerity,” Kirk revealed—and from the expression on McCoy’s face, it was clear that Kirk had piqued his curiosity. “Get her over here,” he directed.
        McCoy left him briefly to return to Tashirya’s side, spoke a few words to her, and she followed him back toward Kirk. “You wanted to speak to me, Captain?”
        Kirk nodded. “You were right—Kor wants you back; in fact, he seems willing to risk treaty violation over you. I’ve been given a deadline and an ultimatum,” he told her.
        “Are you going to give me back to Kor, then?” Tashirya asked, her voice betraying nothing of the apprehension and distrust now welling up within her.
        “No, I’m going to take you to Starbase 28; they’ll decide what to do with you there,”
he continued then, watching her uncertainly for a reaction. “The base is in this sector, but some distance from the border. If Kor wants you, he’ll have to chase us across the Neutral Zone and
through Federation space to get within transporter range of you.”
        Tashirya simply bowed her head in acceptance of this. “I doubt his superiors would authorize such an action, even for the sake of the mind-inverter,” she opined quietly. “In any
case, he would surely have to consult them before taking such a drastic step.”
        Kirk had been counting on that and was pleased to have his beliefs confirmed, though
just now Tashirya herself commanded more of his interest. “But you have no preference in the matter,” he concluded, puzzled; he had expected her to at least protest being turned over to Star- fleet Command.
        “Very generous of you to ask, Captain, but no—it makes little difference to me,” Tashirya returned stiffly. “Whether I remain here or go back to Kor, I will still be a prisoner. If the choice were mine to make, however…it is said among my people that the Federation never mistreats its prisoners. I have no such assurances with the Klingons. And I did promise to help return Spock’s mind to normal.”
        Kirk knew somehow that she was still keeping some part of the truth to herself, but decided any further questions could wait until they were on the way to the starbase. Instead, he went to the intercom and contacted the Bridge.
        “Bridge. Sulu here.”
        “This is the Captain. Sulu, lay in and execute that course change we discussed—warp five. I want to put enough distance between us and the Klingons to be long gone by the time
that two-hour deadline arrives. And have Uhura notify Starfleet Command in case they want
to arrange a rendezvous to pick up our prisoner so we can return to border patrol duty.”
        “Acknowledged, Captain.”
        At that moment, Uhura’s voice cut in. “Captain, I just received Starfleet’s answer to your first message.”
        “Read it,” Kirk ordered, even though any response was now largely a moot point with Spock already rescued.
        “ ‘Message received and understood. Any rescue mission approved--proceed as you think
best, but avoid if possible any actions that might be interpreted as treaty violations. Keep us ad- vised on the situation. Brad Montgomery, Admiral, Starfleet Command, Border Sector 12, Star- base 28.’ ”
        “All right, Uhura, thanks. And get the one I just mentioned to Sulu out as soon as you can,” Kirk acknowledged.
        “Aye, sir. Bridge out.”
        Kirk shut off the intercom and looked over at McCoy. “Bones, do you need Tashirya here right now?”
 
 
 

“No, I suppose not—not with Spock still asleep and trying to recover from his wounds,” McCoy decided slowly.
        “Good. She can get some rest, then.” Kirk motioned to the guards, indicating the Rom- ulan woman. “Take Dr. Tashirya to her cell.”
        They obeyed, and Tashirya did not offer any resistance.

        On the Katara, Kirk’s actions had the desired effect; the Klingons were completely taken by surprise. Kor, having gone down to Sickbay to join some of his medical staff in examining Tashirya’s mind-inverter, had been abruptly summoned back to the Bridge—and he stepped out of the elevator into what now resembled an agitated hornet’s nest. Klingon officers were frantic- ally fiddling with instruments on their control consoles or scurrying around in a sort of battle- ready anticipation that made them look like possessed ants.
        Kor’s second-in-command leapt out of the throne-like center seat and snapped to atten- tion, saluting Kor as he approached. “Commander, the Enterprise has broken out of its patrol course and is heading away from the Neutral Zone!” he reported, his voice filled with indigna- tion of a tiger whose whiskers have just been pulled by a mouse.
        He returned to his station and Kor sat down, whirling to his Chief Security/Operations Officer. “Lieutenant Klon, have our transporter lock onto that Romulan and beam her back now!” he ordered sharply.
        “Impossible, Commander. The Federation ship still has raised shields,” Klon replied, somewhat fearfully, anticipating Kor’s response.
        “Blast!” Kor slammed a fist into the arm of his chair.
        “I say we go after them!” his First Officer put in immediately.
        “I command here, Krev,” Kor reminded his subordinate coldly. “Following them into Federation space would be a clear treaty violation and tantamount to an act of war; only Imperial Fleet Command could authorize such a venture.” He shot a look at his Communications Officer.
“Contact them immediately and advise them of the situation.”
        “At once,” the officer replied, hurrying to obey.
        Krev approached Kor’s side again. “But we are Klingons! We pursue and destroy when an enemy defies us!” he protested. “Our orders—”
        “It is because of our orders that I cannot indulge your eagerness,” Kor reiterated impa- tiently, turning abruptly back to the main viewer in order to hide the infuriating frustration he felt sure must be evident not only on his face but in everything he did or said.
        He watched as the Enterprise receded into the distance, longing inwardly for revenge against Kirk and especially Tashirya, but deciding it would be best to keep to himself the fact that he saw no potential for glory in a war begun over a half-breed Romulan and a mind-sifter that seemed diabolical even by Klingon standards. Thus he found both curse and comfort in the know- ledge that Command would probably share the latter view.
        “Kirk may be soft, but he’s no fool,” Kor reflected bitterly, but still with a sort of grudg- ing admiration, not having meant to speak the thought aloud. He clenched his fists in anger. “Black Chaos take him!”
        Silence answered him, for the Bridge became abruptly quiet again; everyone knew better than to risk crossing Kor while he was in this mood. The loudest silence of all to Kor, however, was that of the Enterprise, which he continued to watch until it passed out of visual range.

 
 
 
        The response Kirk received from Starfleet Command indicated that he would have to be responsible for transporting Tashirya to the starbase himself, since there were no other ships available for rendezvous. Fortunately, there was one expected at one of the starbases closer to the border in a neighboring sector, so they would take over border patrol until the Enterprise returned to assume it.
        Four days passed while Spock's wounds continued to heal, but his mental condition remained unchanged. McCoy wanted him to recover physically before they began to concentrate on repairing whatever damage had been done to his mind, so Tashirya remained confined to the Brig. He and Christine kept a watchful eye on Spock, however, as she had recommended, though their observation of his condition was hampered by his refusal to communicate with them. He had not spoken since his return from the Katara.
        Kirk, meanwhile--when he was not in Sickbay keeping tabs on Spock --spent most of his off-duty time in his quarters, trying to use the ship's computers to do some background research on Tashirya. Late into the fifth day, he was interrupted by a visit from McCoy.
        "Find anything?" he asked as he entered Kirk's study.
        Kirk shook his head, turning off the viewer. "Not so far. There's no reference to any Romulan with the name 'Tashirya' in any of our Intelligence files," he told McCoy, disappointed but clearly not ready to give up. "But I assume that's not your only reason for dropping by."
        "No," McCoy admitted, coming closer. "I wanted to let you know that--aside from some soreness around the rib area--Spock's physical recovery is complete. I need Tashirya again. We need to make a decision on what to do with Spock...either keep him where he is, in Sickbay, strapped down if necessary, or let him return to his quarters under supervision."
        "All right, I'll contact the Brig." Kirk regarded him worriedly. "What's your opinion on that?"
        McCoy sighed heavily. "At the moment, I'm not even sure I have one. I've never seen anything like this...condition that Tashirya's machine has produced in Spock," he revealed. "He has withdrawn totally--not speaking, very little move- ment; Christine feeds him, I bathe him and help him change clothes. He's almost catatonic. I know he's aware of us and his surroundings, because I've seen him respond when Christine holds his hand--nothing elaborate, just something different in his eyes when he looks at her. And sometimes he squeezes her hand back."
        Kirk bowed his head in frustration, furious with the unfairness of the situation. "Damn. I wish I could be with him."
        "I know; so do I. But Tashirya seems convinced that Spock would never accept your presence now--and his reaction to you in that cell on the Katara seems to support that."
        "Nonetheless, I think I'll go to Sickbay with you," Kirk decided, hitting his intercom button. "Kirk to Brig."
        "Brig. Jacobson here."
        "Bring our Romulan prisoner to the isolation room in Sickbay. Dr. McCoy and I will meet you there."
        "Yes, Captain. Jacobson out."
        Kirk turned off the intercom and got up. "Let's go, Bones."
        McCoy followed him out wordlessly.

        Tashirya was waiting in the isolation room when Kirk and McCoy arrived, but Kirk spared her only a brief glance; he was more concerned with Spock, upon whom he focused his full attention. The Vulcan still lay in bed, his head raised slightly on his pillows, Christine beside him as usual. She was holding his hand again, talking to him softly, her efforts at hiding the depth of her anxiety all too obvious. Spock appeared not to respond, but also appeared calm and somewhat attentive. Encouraged--and having had enough of watching his friend from a distance--Kirk started toward Spock's bed.
        "Jim, no!" McCoy protested, going after him and trying to stop him.
        Kirk pushed past him, only to encounter Tashirya. "Captain, you have to stay back. He will become violent if he sees you!" Tashirya stood in front of Kirk, refusing to give ground and effectively blocking his view of Spock--and likewise, Spock's view of him.
 

        "Just this once--just for a minute. If he still reacts as adversely as he did before, I'll back off."
        She was unprepared for the look in Kirk's eyes and the near-pleading tone of his voice. "I suppose his response to you should be checked from time to time, strictly on an experimental basis, to see if it changes," she admitted, giving in and moving aside.
        Kirk approached Spock's bed slowly, Tashirya and McCoy following watchfully, and stood in concerned but apprehensive silence before the Vulcan.
        Spock stared at him for a moment with the same expression of agonized comprehension in his eyes that Kirk had seen in his cell on the Katara; he closed them tightly--and with an unintelligible cry, began to flail about with his arms as if to ward off an enemy. McCoy dragged a dejected and unresisting Kirk away.
        "Christine, for God's sake, restrain him!" he cried as he retreated with Kirk.
        Christine was already strapping the trembling Vulcan into his bed, trying to calm him as Kirk, McCoy and Tashirya went back across the room. "Obviously, no change," Tashirya observed.
        "Well, that seems to solve the problem of whether or not to keep him strapped down," McCoy decided.
        "If Captain Kirk will stay out of Spock's sight, that shouldn't be necessary, as long as he's being watched carefully," Tashirya assured him.
        Kirk looked at her darkly, started to say something, then thought better of it, turned away and walked out. Tashirya thought she could guess the nature of what he had intended to say from his facial expression.
        "He's very protective of Spock, isn't he?"
        McCoy nodded. "He comes by it naturally, Tashirya; they've been very close for a long time. Spock would be the same way if their situations were reversed," he returned quietly.
        Tashirya studied Spock with renewed curiosity and empathy. "I think I begin to understand why there was such fear within him of losing his Captain," she reflected, watching as Spock seemed to relax under Christine's efforts to soothe him. "It must be ...encouraging to know that someone cares more about your welfare than their own."
        At once startled and intrigued, McCoy turned to look at her, but she had moved off to Spock's bedside before the Doctor could either see her face or ask her to elaborate.

        For the next few days, Kirk did not go to Sickbay at all--knowing he would be unable to resist the urge to go to Spock's side if he did. He remembered what Tashirya had told him about the nightmare and tried to resign himself to the fact that the best thing he could do for Spock was stay away from him and out of the doctors' hair. This made it no less frustrating, however, to have to stand by helplessly while Spock's mental survival lay in someone else's hands, even though McCoy kept him informed about the Vulcan's condition.
        Tashirya practically lived in Sickbay, trying frantically but vainly to assist McCoy and Christine in finding some way to reclaim Spock's mind. After five days of futile testing and experimentation, McCoy was exhausted, Christine on the verge of tears and Tashirya nearly ready to give up.
        Within the darkness of Spock's mind, the only reality that mattered was that Jim Kirk was dead. Only two entities occasionally penetrated that darkness: Christine, touching and holding his hand, speaking gently to him, and McCoy, trying to encourage him, his voice seeming to come from a distance or from behind a wall that Spock could not break through. Though neither brought him much solace, Spock clung silently and fiercely to his awareness of their existence, unable to reach out through the walking nightmare that imprisoned his mind--recurring visions of claws tearing things from deep within him, followed only by the renewed awareness of his loss.
        Christine was standing near him with her back to him, talking to someone else. Spock tried to reach for her hand and was abruptly reminded that the straps prevented him from moving. Fighting through the haze of the nightmare, he forced himself to form a word.
        "Christine..."
 
 

        She whirled toward him in surprise, her face radiating hopefulness. "Spock! You spoke! Please, say something else. Tell me what I can do for you."
        "The straps...hurt," Spock told her, with difficulty. "Please...I will not hurt you. I just...want to sit up." There were tears in his eyes.
        Christine shot a pleading look at McCoy, who silently nodded his permission, and she quickly removed the straps. Spock sat up cautiously, and when Christine again reached for his hand, he pulled his knees up against him, curling himself into a fetal position and drawing himself up against Christine.
        "Spock--!" she began, too startled to know how to react.
        Spock's body began to tremble. "You once said...you loved me. I...need to know that I still have that love. Please, if I do...just hold me."
        Before his voice had faded, Christine had taken him in her arms, and Spock held onto her as if in fear of his life. Tashirya watched them enviously, reflecting on what she had learned of these three Humans who had figured so prominently in Spock's thought-images, and wondered if Christine would be embar- rassed by the dream-images Spock held within him of her. What she had seen of them was quite tame by Romulan standards and would probably be fairly innocent by Human standards--but by Vulcan standards, they were certainly scandalous: mostly having to do with holding, touching and kissing in public.
        McCoy, meanwhile, went back to Spock's bedside--like Christine, suddenly full of hope that this signaled a change in the Vulcan's condition. "Spock?" he began quietly.
        Spock was quiet again in Christine's arms; his eyes had been tightly closed, but now he opened them again to look at McCoy. "Doctor...you are still here, too?" he questioned.
        "Yes, Spock, I'm still here."
        Spock closed his eyes again, laying his head back down on Christine's shoulder. "How can you... bear to be around me...after what I have done?"
        Cautiously, McCoy reached out to touch his shoulder. "You're my friend," he replied.
        With one arm still around Christine, Spock reached up with his other hand to touch McCoy's. "And I have no desire to lose either of you," he assured them. "But I...cannot bear this anymore. Please--I want to die. If you...either of you... still feel for me, please...help me die."
        McCoy and Christine stared at each other, stunned by the tone of complete surrender in Spock's voice. Christine just held him more tightly while McCoy looked on in silence; words seemed pointless. Again, abruptly, Spock withdrew into himself, refusing to respond to their attempts to resume conversation and direct it away from the subject of suicide. Eventually he fell asleep in Christine's arms.
        "It's no good," McCoy declared in frustration, as the three of them stood around the sleeping Vulcan, grateful that he had been too distracted to be very insistent on committing suicide. "We've tried every drug, every treatment, every form of therapy for mental disorders that any of us knows, and the best it seems to have been able to do is get him back to a verbal communication level. Dammit, there must be something we've overlooked!"
        Tashirya had remained silent throughout the conversation, still thinking and reflecting--and finally decided to reveal the idea that had been forming in her mind, as dangerous as it seemed. "Doctor, there may still be a way."
        "Let's hear it!" McCoy prompted, wary of anything introduced at this late stage in the progression of Spock's condition, but also willing to try anything possible. "What I saw in Spock's mind seemed to indicate the presence of a mental bond with Captain Kirk," she began cautiously.
        "Yes, they have a bond. It's part of what makes their friendship so special," McCoy confirmed. "But how does that help us?"
        "The Captain's mind still holds the memory fragment I took from Spock. If their minds were joined long enough--"
        "I'm way ahead of you," McCoy interrupted, knowing what she was suggesting and understanding why she hadn't mentioned it before. "But I think Jim should be in on this discussion. Let's continue it in my office after I contact him and he's had time to get down here."
 

        Tashirya nodded in agreement.
        Within minutes, Kirk had joined Tashirya and McCoy in the latter's office, while Christine stayed with Spock, continuing to monitor his condition. "All right, Bones, I assume I'm down here because one of you has come up with something," Kirk prompted. "Let's have it."
        Tashirya stepped forward. "There's one possibility left, Captain, and it's up to you. A mind-meld with Spock might restore his memory," she revealed.
        Kirk's expression conveyed understanding and concern. "But he won't even let me near him!"
        Tashirya nodded. "We may have to strap him down again, but that is the least of the dangers involved."
        "Such as?"
        "First, I have no assurance that it will work," Tashirya began. "Spock's present mental condition was caused by my removal of one memory fragment, and just as the mind-inverter took it away, sensing and accepting the same memory fragment within you should reverse the process and give him his memory of you back as he becomes more and more aware of your thoughts.
        "If it doesn't work, which is just as possible, the result could be detrimental to both of you. Spock's mind, in its current state, could refuse to accept yours or be unable to sustain the meld--in which case, his mind would be plunged deeper into insanity and yours would become trapped within the madness of his. And even if it works, it will only restore his memory.
        "The probing effect of the mind-inverter is unusually ...intrusive, because it was designed to alter its intensity according to the amount of resistance offered. It would make a Vulcan feel...violated. I'm not sure how long it will take Spock to recover from the trauma caused by that." If he ever can recover, she added silently.
        "And let's not forget one other thing: I've never tried to initiate a mind-meld before," Kirk added. "I don't even know if I can."
        "I assumed that, Captain. If this works as it should, Spock will take over control of the meld soon after you make contact."
        Kirk nodded, satisfied, and looked at McCoy, waiting for him to offer an opinion. "Doctor?"
        "It sounds to me like we could lose both of you," McCoy concluded, but I don't see that we have any choice. It's a risk for both of you or a certainty of permanent mental disability for Spock if we don't try."
        "Agreed," Kirk decided. "All right, let's do it."

        When they returned to the isolation room, they found Spock lying quietly in bed, still asleep, one hand still holding Christine's as she once again ran her bio- scanner over him. They went to join her, discussed what they were planning to do with her, and she persuaded them to wait until Spock woke up. In the meantime, Kirk resumed his usual position near the door while McCoy and Christine stayed at Spock's bedside and Tashirya looked on from the end of the bed. The atmosphere grew thick with tension as they waited for Spock to awaken, the silence broken only by occasional forced conversation between McCoy and Christine about Spock's condition.
        Finally, however, Spock awoke, and McCoy took the Vulcan's free hand in his. Spock looked up at him, startled, but still seemed outwardly calm. "Spock," he began carefully. "I want you to listen to me... listen and try to believe me. You have a visitor, and I want you to remember, however it seems to you, that he is real."
        It was not likely that his words would have any effect once Kirk appeared, but McCoy had to at least try to prepare him. Spock merely looked confused as McCoy motioned to someone out of his line of view--then Kirk appeared and began to slowly approach him. Spock's muscles stiffened perceptibly and he closed his eyes, sitting up and backing away, releasing Christine's hand, but for the moment retaining his grip on McCoy's.
        "No, it cannot be...leave me alone!"
 

        "Spock, open your eyes and look at me," Kirk urged, as he reached the Vulcan's side. McCoy released Spock's hand and moved out of the way.
        Spock shook his head emphatically. "Please...I did not mean to do it," he whispered.
        "Do you remember what McCoy told you?"
        "Yes." Spock opened his eyes again and looked not at Kirk but at McCoy in renewed confusion.
"Do you see him, too?"
        McCoy nodded, clapping Kirk briefly on the shoulder to prove his point. "He's real, Spock--he's
here and he's alive," he tried to assure Spock.
        Spock started to reach toward Kirk, thinking for a fraction of a second that it might be possible just because he wanted it to be, but then the altered reality that he now knew as truth reasserted itself and the darkness of irrationality again enveloped his mind. As it did so often, the nightmare of things being torn from within him by claws returned.
        "Then neither of you are real!" he cried, thinking the clawed thing must be responsible for this illusion and striking out blindly--at it, not at Kirk and McCoy.
        "Bones, I think you and Dr. Chapel better get back out of the way," Kirk advised as they tried to dodge Spock's flailing arms.
        McCoy nodded, looking at Christine, communicating quickly and silently, and they both backed
up toward the end of the bed to give Kirk room. Kirk caught Spock by the arms, holding him as still as he could, though the Vulcan still trembled violently.
        "See, Spock? I'm real. I'm touching you. You can feel me," he told Spock.
        Fear now mingled with the confusion in Spock's eyes. Could the clawed thing even simulate Jim's touch? "Jim...? No, no, I...killed you."
        Kirk could see that there was only one way Spock would ever be convinced. It was time to get on with the mind-meld, as much as he dreaded the possibility that he might do more harm than good. "I'm going to prove it to you," he continued soothingly, reaching up toward Spock's face, at first simply resting his hand on his friend's cheek as he looked into the dark, terrified eyes and tried to calm him. Finally, slowly, Kirk moved his fingers into what he remembered as the mind- meld position Spock had always used.

        Kirk entered Spock's mind gradually, in an effort to avoid sending the Vulcan into deeper shock or having his thoughts rejected outright. It turned out to be easier than he had expected--almost embarrassingly so. Spock's normal mental shields were gone, his thoughts and emotions open and unprotected, and Kirk immediately encountered Spock's memory of what had been done to him on the Katara.
        Images of memories, thoughts, and emotions being ripped from beneath the Vulcan's usual layers of shielding, publicly displayed and examined in detail by malevolent aliens, burst upon Kirk's consciousness, along with the horror, agony and humiliation that accompanied the memory.
        Spock, I'm here. Feel my thoughts, Kirk's mind told him.
        From somewhere deep within, beneath layers of darkness and false images--Spock reached out to him, hesitantly touching Kirk's thoughts with great apprehension.
        Jim...? It is you! But how? You are...you should be...dead, his mind-voice responded doubtfully.
        Kirk's consciousness moved deeper, touching and probing gently, ever aware of his friend's vulnerability, striving to comfort Spock by allowing him to explore his Captain's thoughts freely. No, my friend. That's not really the way it was. Tashirya tampered with your memory, his mind-voice assured Spock.
        Tashirya...the Romulan woman?
        Apprehension changed to confusion within Spock, then horror as the memory of the clawed thing returned--for now he recalled that his memory of the clawed thing and a Romulan woman named Tashirya had merged and were now one and the same. He shrank from the memory and instead reached out for Kirk's thoughts and the small but genuine thread of hope they offered rather than retreating deeper within himself, as he would have before this mind-meld.
 

        Then I did not kill you on Vulcan? Spock's mind questioned, not yet ready to accept what he would have taken immediately as fact in a normal meld between them.
        "No," Kirk revealed the memory fragment taken from Spock's mind--his own memory-image of the moment after their beamup from the ceremony on Vulcan and Spock's announcement to McCoy and Chris- tine of his intention to resign, when he walked up behind Spock and surprised him. Once again, Spock whirled toward him and greeted him with the openly joyous smile and near-embrace that McCoy had never allowed him to forget.
        Spock examined the memory carefully and curiously as something previously buried within him
was reawakened. Realization was soon followed by acceptance as he relived the memory through his own thoughts, feeling again what he had felt at the sight of the hazel eyes and lopsided grin that he had never again expected to see, and knew that Kirk's memory of his life since that fateful pon farr--not his own--was the true and factual one. Spock then continued to explore Kirk's thoughts and emotions for a time, purely for the pleasure of being able to do so.
        It was the nightmare, was it not? The nightmare was real?
        Yes, Spock. Tashirya made it real, Kirk's mind-voice confirmed.
        Spock's mind conveyed an understanding that was accompanied by a renewed inner strength, and he was finally able to assert enough control over the mind-meld to break it himself.

        The mind-meld had taken only a minute or so in real time, but when they were both released from it, Spock looked at Kirk with full comprehension in his eyes, watching in concern as his shaken friend sought to recover. With much of Spock's mind and its usual receptiveness to Kirk's thoughts clouded by nightmare memories and false images, Kirk had been forced to sustain much of the mind-meld on his own, and the effort had left him unexpectedly drained.
        When he finally returned Spock's anxious gaze, the Vulcan's eyes met his briefly, then closed. At that point, he startled Kirk--as well as McCoy and Christine --by moving forward, putting his arms awk- wardly around Kirk and holding him for a time.
        Watching him, Christine breathed an audible sigh of relief while McCoy chose to express his verbally: "Your memory's back to normal...thank God."
        Christine took out her bioscanner and ran it carefully around various areas of Spock's head, watch- ing the screen over his bed as she did so. "It's true--some of the neurological and psychological trauma seems to have been reduced," she told McCoy eagerly. "Some areas already show signs of healing."
        For the first time since returning to the isolation room, Tashirya stepped forward to join them. "The mind-meld does seem to have accomplished its purpose," she acknowledged, looking from Christine to McCoy. "His memory is as it should be, and he accepts the Captain's existence--which is as much as I would have been able to do with the mind-inverter. The mental trauma you're reading remains because his memory of exactly what the mind-inverter did to him is returning and being reinforced."
        "All right, do you have any constructive suggestions as to what we can do to complete the healing process?" McCoy asked.
        Tashirya shook her head. "Unfortunately, the remaining healing will have to be largely up to Spock himself. Vulcan methods of mental healing are...their own...as I'm sure you know," she pointed out. "From this point on, no drug or form of conventional treatment will do him any good. Give him rest and quiet--and your presence, if he asks for it. Otherwise, he'll have to deal with it on his own."
        "You told us Kor wanted Spock permanently incapacitated," McCoy recalled. "You still don't know if he will recover, do you?"
        "No."
        Kirk had been holding Spock and trying to comfort him, but the sound of Tashirya's voice reminded the Vulcan that he was being a little too open in his emotional display; he abruptly released Kirk and looked embarrassed. "I am sorry..."
        Kirk smiled at him. "Don't apologize. I'm glad that you recognize me as being alive again," he returned, trying to reassure Spock.
 

        Spock regarded Kirk with veiled but obvious concern in his eyes, seeing the exhaustion still apparent in his friend's face and manner. "Are you all right?"
        Kirk was beginning to wonder about that himself, for he still felt dizzy and had a strong suspicion that he was about to faint. "I'm...a little shaky, Spock, but..." Abruptly, Kirk began to fall.
        "Jim!" McCoy cried in alarm, examining him as Spock caught him.
        "It's all right, Doctor--a side-effect to be expected in a Human who has never initiated a mind-meld before," Tashirya informed him, glancing at Spock for confirmation.
        "Quite correct," Spock responded, keeping his attention on McCoy and Kirk. McCoy, too, ignored her, looking to Spock for guidance. "My first inclination would be to give him a stimulant, but something tells me that in this case, rest would be better for him."
        "Precisely, Doctor," Spock agreed. "I will see to it that he gets back to his cabin." Still partially supporting Kirk, Spock carefully started to slide out of bed only to discover, much to his embarrassment, that his legs would not support both of them.
        "Whoa, Spock," McCoy cautioned, catching and supporting both of them until Spock was able to steady himself. "You're forgetting that you've been in bed for a week. You're in no condition to carry anybody else. I'll get Jim back to his cabin; you I'm releasing from Sickbay, on the condition that you let Christine go with you and follow Jim's example once you're there. You need rest as much as he does."
        Something resembling disappointment flitted across Spock's face as McCoy took charge of Kirk, but he gave in, seeing the logic of the recommendation. "Very well, Doctor."
        "And remember--just because I'm releasing you does not mean that I consider you fit for duty," McCoy warned.
        Spock nodded in acknowledgment.
        McCoy then looked toward the guards, pointing to Tashirya. "Security, take her back to the Brig."
        The two guards moved forward to flank Tashirya, who turned silently and headed toward the door with them. She had expected no more; after all, she was a prisoner, and her usefulness in Sickbay had come to an end. Spock watched her go, then returned his attention to McCoy and Kirk, who was now standing normally but appeared a little disoriented.
        "Bones...what's happened to me?"
        "Nothing fatal, Jim. You just need some rest. Come on."
        A moment later, they too were gone. Spock looked around to find Christine standing near him. "Ready to go?" she asked.
        "Quite ready," Spock assured her, moving cautiously away from the bed toward the door. Christine followed as he proceeded out of Sickbay and through the corridors to his cabin, careful not to offer assist- ance unless he asked for it.

        Once there, she watched from a distance as Spock entered his bedchamber and stretched out on the bed. As she turned to leave, he spoke to her. "I...hope that I did not behave too irrationally."
        Christine heard the embarrassment behind the tightly controlled voice and went to his side, wanting to reassure him. "Not really," she told him, knowing it would do him no good to know that the most irration- al thing he had done was refuse to allow Kirk near him without becoming violent. "You were just hurt and frightened...but after what had been done to you, I'd hardly call that irrational." It was a clever bending of the truth, but a necessary one, Christine told herself.
        Spock lay on his side, looking up at her curiously. "You were with me much of the time, then."
        Christine lowered her eyes. "You seemed a little more... responsive to me, so Dr. McCoy decided that I should be the one to supervise your treatment," she explained.
        When she looked back down at him, Spock regarded her with a raised eyebrow and an expression which seemed to invite her to elaborate. "You wanted me to hold you," Christine revealed, wondering if this would embarrass him now´as much as it would have in the days before his encounter with V'ger.
 

        Spock lowered his eyes and was silent for a long time as various emotions were stirred within him
at the idea of having allowed himself such close contact with Christine. At last, he spoke again. "Did it help me?"
        "It seemed to," Christine replied.
        Spock looked back up at her. "Then it was...logical for you to do so, and I have no reason to object," he concluded.
        It was not the response Christine had expected, though Spock gave no evidence of embarrassment, only a vague suggestion of discomfort whose exact source she could not identify. She opened her mouth to say something else, then thought better of it and decided to leave well enough alone.
        Spock returned his attention to settling into a comfortable position on the bed and prepared to put himself into the customary Vulcan sleep-trance. Christine decided that the most helpful thing she could do for him was to give him some time alone. Spock fell asleep shortly after she left, but it was a troubled, eyes-closed sleep that bore no resemblance to his usual trance state.

        A few hours later, Kirk awoke and decided to go check on Spock. He cut through the bathroom, entering as quietly as possible in case the Vulcan was still asleep, moving just as quietly through Spock's study, looking around as he went. The sound of music being softly played drew Kirk toward the partition and into Spock's bedchamber.
        He found his friend sitting on his bed and playing his Vulcan harp, as he often did when he needed to soothe himself and bring some measure of peace to his mind. Kirk backed up behind the partition and surreptitiously stuck his head around the edge.
        "Am I interrupting?"
        Spock looked up and stopped playing, shaking his head. "I had rather hoped you would come over when you were awake," he admitted hesitantly. "I trust you slept well?"
        Kirk entered again and went to sit beside him on the bed. "Very soundly. I guess that mind-meld wore me out," he returned, studying Spock worriedly. He still looked pale and drawn, and some nameless agony haunted the dark eyes. "What about you? You still look like hell."
        Spock bowed his head, setting his harp aside. "I was not able to sleep for very long. I am finding it difficult even to meditate," he explained.
        "You're having nightmares again, aren't you?" Kirk guessed.
        Since the nightmares that had followed Spock's last pon farr, he had not experienced others very often--just often enough, however, for Kirk to be reminded that his Vulcan friend was far from immune to them.
        "This... is worse," Spock told him in a tightly controlled voice. "The images persist, even when I
am awake: memories and emotions torn from within me...by something that seemed to have claws...ripping through--"
        "I saw something of it when we mind-melded," Kirk reminded him, stopping the Vulcan by laying a hand on his arm.
        Spock nodded in acceptance of this and llooked up again, knowing that Kirk had seen enough to understand what had been done to him and why he found it so painful and humiliating. Kirk's mention of the mind-meld reminded Spock of something else he needed to discuss, conveniently enabling him to change the subject without appearing too obvious.
        "I notice also that you referred to the Romulan as 'Tashirya'. Are you quite certain that is her name?"
        "No, all I know is that's the only name she gave us," Kirk explained, at once puzzled and curious. "Why? Do you know some reason why it shouldn't be?"
        "Possibly, Captain," Spock elaborated. "'Tashirya' is a Romulan corruption of a Vulcan word in its feminine form-- 't'shir'aia', which means 'outworlder'. It seems an odd name to give one's child, assuming she was given the name at birth."
        "Spock, are you sure about that?" Kirk questioned.
 

        "I do have some knowledge of the Romulan language, since it--like so much of their culture--has
its roots in that of Vulcan," Spock assured him. "I am also familiar with the masculine form of the word, 'sishiri'...I heard it from someone almost every day of my life from the time I was old enough to understand what it meant until I left Vulcan."
        Kirk's eyes met his understandingly, and Spock's eyes responded with an expression of appreciation amid the turmoil; they both knew that, though Spock had become noticeably less reluctant to discuss his childhood with Kirk since the V'ger incident, there were times when verbal reassurance from Kirk in the matter was unnecessary...and this was such a time.
        The Captain's presence was all Spock needed at the moment to remind him that he had found a place for himself among people who accepted him and cared for him as he was, that he was no longer the outcast he had been on Vulcan. Kirk acknowledged this with a smile, which Spock accepted gratefully.
        "That would explain why Intelligence has nothing on her under that name," Kirk decided.
        "Indeed."
        Kirk got up to leave. "Well, it looks like I have some more work to do," he concluded, then turned back to look at Spock, remembering his condition and suddenly uncertain about leaving him alone. "Are you going to be all right?"
        Spock nodded, not wanting Kirk to know that he had hoped he would stay a little longer.