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April 29, 2009: Well, Geocities is closing sometime this year, so the whole Karmen Ghia shootin' match is over at the original Tripod home. Long live Tripod! I hope. Karmen. PS. This really IS the last update here. Hochofedra. Live long and prosper.

Technical Notes: This is a very huge file, please be patient while it loads. And, sorry, it won't load completely in Netscape (at least not in mine anyway). Also, alas, if a link doesn't go anywhere when you've clicked it, you might have to hit the Refresh button, sometimes (mainly in GeoCitiesHell) the file doesn't completely load. Refresh usually does the trick. Depending on where you are right now, this file is mirrored at either http://karmen_ghia.tripod.com/toshtrr.html or http://oocities.com/toshtrr/. Some people prefer one over the other and I can understand that. Please feel free to download it to your hard drive and read it offline, if you are so inclined. There will be a few minor changes to the text and one added part in the near future, but most of the changes will be in the C narrative, which is a different file. Thank you for your patience. Please feel free to contact me if you have any questions. Karmen Ghia, January 5, 2003




Ship's night, Starship Enterprise

A TOS Hypertext Round Robin By Karmen Ghia, Jane Skazki, Ellen Fremedon, Kira-nerys, T'Lin T'Thrill, Marcy, Acidqueen, MizzMarcee, Mecca, Menolly, Cait N, J Juls, Hypatia Kosh, Dread Nought, Lyrastar, Sunbeam, Istannor, Laura JV, Slasherfem

Ship's night, Starship Enterprise.

~end of Karmen Ghia part~

The captain strolled the deserted corridors.

Kirk was running, and something was chasing him, something he didn't want to have catch up with him; in front of him something he desperately needed to find, needed to ... just needed, more than breathing.

Welcome, Writers! Narrative in progress. Proceed at your own risk.























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


The captain strolled the deserted corridors. It was mid gamma shift, dead time. A man could stretch his legs, expand his lungs, clock up five circuits of the saucer, step back into his cabin and his eyes would close before his head hit the pillow.

It usually worked.

He was on the sixth circuit.

It had been one of those days.

A transporter glitch had turned serious as two shuttles collided when a plasma surge scrambled their sensors. And a bunch of Nidien pirates had turned up to try and take advantage of the confusion of a rescue operation involving e-suits, safety lines and triage in vacuo.

No casualties, not permanent ones. McCoy hadn’t even had recourse to miracles. But the captain had seen the effects in the eyes of the few people he’d encountered on circuits one thro’ five. They’d all come face to face with death. Close enough to count the pores on his nose, as Scotty had memorably put it before he’d recapped the scotch and taken the all-but-empty bottle back to his cabin.

Seven.

"Is everything okay, Captain?"

Hikaru Sulu, one arm supporting his helm partner, emerged from the observation lounge into the corridor.

"I thought you two were off-duty hours ago," Kirk said severely.

"I commed Chekov and he wasn’t in his cabin, so..."

The ensign had been piloting one of the shuttles. Kirk tried to determine, without asking, if Chekov was drunk or merely asleep on his feet.

"I was thinking," Chekov said, a tad defensive. "I couldn’t sleep."

Kirk and Sulu shrugged at each other. Telling Chekov not to worry was like water off a duck’s back at a time like this. Kirk wondered whether to tell the youngster about the beneficial effects of five circuits of the saucer, only it hadn’t worked for him tonight.

"You’re taking him to his cabin now?" he checked with the lieutenant.

"I’m taking myself," Chekov corrected huffily. He tugged his tunic straight, put one foot in front of the other and tripped over it.

Kirk grabbed Chekov’s free arm to keep him on his feet. "What was he doing in the observation lounge?" he asked Sulu over the top of Chekov’s head. The ensign was staring at the deck, as if wondering why it hadn’t come up and hit him.

"Looking at the wreckage."

"It’s still out there?"

"Tractor beams are off line."

"Shit," Kirk said.

"Scotty said he didn’t have anyone awake enough to fix them."

"Is that Chekov’s cabin?"

"Yes." Sulu propped his half of Chekov against the bulkhead. "Thanks, Captain. I’ll take care of him. I don’t think he’s really all that drunk, just exhausted and too hyper to sleep."

"Well, he’s not the only one," Kirk agreed. He slipped his arm out from under Chekov’s, and then replaced it as the ensign threatened to collapse under his own weight. "Take it easy, there, Pavel."

"I’m fine," Chekov insisted.

"Damn. Scotty said the security system was fritzed. This door won’t open."

"That’s why I was in the observation lounge."

"Well, why the hell didn’t you say, you idiot. Someone could have been fixing it."

"Take him back to your cabin," Kirk said.

"I don’t want to go back to his cabin," Chekov said, in a whisper that he evidently expected to escape the helmsman’s perfectly good hearing.

"Oh?"

"We could go back to your cabin," Chekov suggested confidentially. He snuggled into Kirk’s arms.

"Makes sense," Sulu agreed. He wasn’t really paying attention. He’d opened the maintenance panel beside the door and was methodically pulling connectors. "It’s bigger."

"Is it?" Chekov asked. Kirk frowned, wondering if his continued participation in this rather odd conversation was a good idea. Chekov was looking up at him thoughtfully.

"No," Kirk said.

Chekov puzzled over this for a moment.

"Done it," Sulu announced. "I’ll take over, Captain." He hesitated. "I mean, if you..."

"Sure. He’s all yours."

"Good night, sir," Chekov said correctly. Then he stood up on his toes and kissed his startled captain full on the lips.

"Good night, Chekov," Kirk said, once he got the use of his mouth back. He rolled his eyes at Sulu. "Are you sure he’s not drunk?"

"Maybe he is," Sulu said quickly. "Yeah, he probably is. Very drunk."

"I’ve always wanted to do that," Chekov said, now behaving as if Kirk wasn’t there and Sulu was the sole recipient of his confidences.

"Shut up, Chekov." Sulu bundled the ensign in through the door of his cabin. As he tried to follow his friend, Chekov put the brakes on and looked back at his captain.

"After today, I wanted to tell you."

"That’s okay," Kirk reassured him.

Chekov nodded and allowed himself to be gently propelled into the cabin.

The door slid shut and Kirk took a deep breath. It had indeed been a hell of a day. Maybe he too should be telling a certain person how he felt.

~end of Jane Skazki part~


Eight circuits ... Nine ... Ten.

He followed that train of thought halfway through an eighth circuit of the saucer, until raised voices from Sickbay distracted him.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


He followed that train of thought halfway through an eighth circuit of the saucer, until raised voices from Sickbay distracted him. The noise was coming from McCoy's office. He hesitated a moment before stepping into the door's sensor space.

"Bones? What's all the--"

McCoy and Spock looked up from opposite sides of McCoy's desk. There was a mostly empty bottle between them.

"--racket..." Kirk let the door close behind him, avoiding the wreckage of another bottle on the floor. Hardly anything in the office was where he remembered seeing it last. Or in comparable condition. "Bones? Spock? What the hell happened in here?"

~end of Ellen Fremedon part~


"I'll tell you what happen'd here, Capt'in, sur!"

A moment passed and Kirk sensed his officers falling into an instinctive, cooperative, self-preservation mode.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Kirk was running, and something was chasing him, something he didn't want to have catch up with him; in front of him something he desperately needed to find, needed to ... just needed, more than breathing.

Something diffuse, intangible.

Someone.

His heartbeat a heavy thump in his ears, and the noise grew louder with each agonizing step as his feet thudded against the floor of his ship. The sound echoed, bounced off the walls; a hollow sound that made his anxiety grow.

And then, he saw the shadowy figure of something ahead. Black robes billowing. Something ... someone.

Spock.

"Wait up!" Kirk shouted. "Wait. Don't go ..."

*Don't leave me*

That's when he woke up, sweating, aching and alone.

Kirk forced himself out of bed, knowing that sleep wouldn't come for many hours now. He'd only fallen asleep minutes ago, and he knew he'd just have to face another sleepless night.

"He's gone," Kirk told himself once more, wincing at the sound of his own voice, the flatness of it, the .... feeling of being lost growing for each day. It was as though the truth of Spock not being by his side just wouldn't sink in, no matter how many days, weeks or even months passed by since they had both left the Enterprise.

Kirk roamed the rooms of his house. It was situated on the ocean, barely ten minutes by hovercar from Los Angeles city. The bungalow was a beautiful place, one that he'd thought would help him feel better, as though he'd finally found a house that he could call home, but he was itching to get away from it.

*Perhaps you should go to Vulcan to find Spock, and let him know that you've made a mistake.*

But fear surged inside him. Of what he couldn't quite tell.

He could still remember the blank look on Spock's face that very last day. Kirk winced. He hadn't meant to sound so harsh, so ... unforgiving when he denied the feelings he'd had for his first officer for ... years.

But the desolation and shuttered expression in Spock's black eyes told him that no matter what he had truly meant, rejection, plain and simple, was what Spock had seen on his face. And inside, Kirk knew very well that it wasn't how he truly felt. He loved Spock but couldn't convince himself to admit it out loud.

Something held him back. It was fear, fear of his own feelings and the strong emotions he saw in the face of a man that he'd worked beside for five whole years. Emotions that had no business being there.

Kirk swallowed. He had never expected Spock to act on the tension that existed between them, never expected Spock to ever bring it up. And when he did ... Kirk was ashamed of his own reaction. He'd been so afraid that rather than acknowledging the fear, he'd lashed out and driven Spock away, the only person he had ever truly ... loved.

So, now what was he supposed to do?

~end of Kira-nerys part~

The walls of the bungalow were suddenly closing in on him, he had to get out.

He made coffee.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Eight circuits ... Nine ... Ten.

Kirk was still wound up too tight to settle down for the night. The incident with Chekov only added to his troubles. For months now, he had been harboring feelings for Spock -- feelings far stronger than mere friendship -- but kept them to himself.

'After today, I wanted to tell you.' Chekov had said ... and he had a point ... days like today made us see that there may not be a tomorrow, so we should make the most of the time we have. Perhaps it *was* the right time for Kirk to tell Spock how he felt ...

But then again, what would be the point?

After all, Spock had said time and time again that he could not experience emotions as a human would ... and his discomfort around Nurse Chapel, after she confessed her love of him, was plain for all to see. He did not want to jeopardize the friendship they now shared by confessing his true feelings ... yet on the other hand, he ached to be with him.

After his tenth circuit of the ship, he had altered his course, and suddenly realized he was just outside of Spock's quarters.

He stood, staring at the door.

Several times, he moved as if he would press the door buzzer, then change his mind. He went so far as to even walk away, only to return once more. Finally, with a softly spoken curse, he gave in to temptation and raised his hand to press the buzzer ... only to pull away suddenly, as the door opened before him.

~end of T'Lin part~

A startled Uhura met his gaze.

Kirk took a took a step away from the door as two forms locked together in a kiss stumbled backwards out the door.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


"I'll tell you what happen'd here, Capt'in, sur!" McCoy slurred, stumbling slightly as he stood and attempted to round his desk, kicking an empty bottle in the process. "Yer goddamm'd Vulcan first ossifer is a drunken lunatic!"

Jim's face showed his shock at the situation. Had all his senior staff lost their mind this evening? "My first 'ossifer,' Dr. McCoy? It seems that you, yourself, have had way too much to drink this evening," Kirk stated sternly.

"Yessir'ee, you are correct." McCoy attempted to nod his head assertively, but dipped so low that he nearly struck his forehead against the desk he was clutching for support. "But I'm still sober 'nough to know that what went on here today was neither logical or spec...exsp...expected like this fool believes!" McCoy stammered, his heated gaze settling on the man still seated in the doctor's private office.

At this statement, Jim forgot McCoy's condition and turned his attention to his first officer. "Spock, you believe that what went on here today was avoidable? I would like to hear your reason for this."

"Captain," Spock straightened in his chair. Jim noticed his difficulty in keeping his posture rigid and seemed to sway slightly from side to side. Spock? Drunk? Never before had Jim seen Spock take any more than the occasional sip of alcohol, and then only in rare times of private celebration between the three of them or at formal, ceremonial occasions when a toast was expected. As if satisfied that he had perfected his delicate balancing act, Spock continued. "I did not state that the incident today was either logical or expected. I merely stated that with the energy field generated by the proximity of the shuttles to one another, the amplification of the warp core temperature by three point one six nine, which was created from the stasis holding position of the ship at the time, and the stability of the plasma being compromised because of the increased heat in the field, that the possibility of this occurrence could have been predicted within an error factor of twenty-seven point eighteen percent."

"See, Jim! There he goes again!" McCoy shouted.

Jim shook his head toward Bones with a quick glance in an attempt to silence him. Looking back at Spock, he stated, "Are you saying we should have known this was going to happen? You're talking about a pretty big error factor when you say twenty-seven point...whatever percent, Spock." He heard the defensive tone in his voice. He, as much as anyone, would have liked to have avoided the events of the day, and the emotional trauma that had seemed to affect everyone onboard in the hours since.

"Twenty-seven point eighteen, Jim, and I am not attempting to place blame. I am making an observation, nothing more."

"So why didn't we know about this ahead of time, Mr. Spock? We've landed multiple shuttles before without incident."

"Indeed, however there has never before been an attempt with two shuttles while the ship was being held in a station-keeping position. It is a risk factor never previously considered."

"So, what you're saying is that there was nothing to base this criteria on prior to the accident. That we had no way of knowing that this would happen...until it happened."

"I am saying that had my data been more complete, we would have been aware of the possibility."

Now it was beginning to all make sense. The reason why Spock was sitting in McCoy's office locked in battle and stewed to the gills was becoming obvious. "I thought you said you weren't trying to lay blame. Seems to me you are sitting here blaming yourself for something that we had no way of knowing. Spock, you can't blame yourself for a design flaw. We can be grateful that no one was killed and make sure the same situation isn't repeated."

"Jim," McCoy interrupted as he straightened, somewhat. "I wouldn't go there. That's exactly what I've been trying to tell the stubborn son-of-a-bitch for the last three hours and it only gets him more pissed off."

"Perhaps if you had stayed sober, you both would be thinking clearly, Doctor!" Jim replied, the irritation at the situation evident in his voice.

"Ah, Jim! It just ain't polite to let a man drink alone!"

Jim rubbed his hand across his forehead. He was getting the mother of all headaches, but certainly didn't trust Bones' judgment to treat him, not in the current state he was in. "Bones...go to bed. Consider that an order. Spock, you're coming with me. We'll deal with this mess in the morning after we have recovered the wreckage. I'm going to need you thinking clearly, so it's off to your cabin, a cold shower and to bed with you." Jim didn't add that it would be his wish to crawl in that bed with him, now was certainly not the time.

"Yes, Jim," Spock replied and rose from the chair with more difficulty than his usual grace afforded him. Once steady on his feet, he headed for the door.

Walking beside him so he would be there to catch him, as he had to Pavel just a short while before, Jim called over his shoulder to his chief medical officer, "Bones, make a note so you won't forget. I want detox injections ordered for any crewmember who has even smelled alcohol tonight."

"Sure...sur...I'll note make of that right now," Leonard waved with a toss of his hand as he sauntered unsteadily toward his sleeping quarters. Jim knew Bones was not going to remember his order and decided to take it up with the doctor first thing in the morning, when he was thinking clearly. He knew he could write up the majority of his senior staff for their actions this evening, but who would clean up this mess if his senior officers were all confined to quarters?

After getting Spock to his cabin, Jim decided this night was not going to get any better no matter how many turns around the saucer he took. Actually, the privacy of his cabin seemed the only refuge to the insanity that seemed to have gripped the crew. Better to let them work this out for themselves and deal with it fresh tomorrow. The door of his cabin slid open and he stepped inside. His aching head welcomed the darkness. He knew this cabin like the back of his hand. He certainly didn't need to call on the lights to strip down and get into bed. Dropping the last of his clothing on the floor, he felt for the sheet. He thought he remembered throwing the covers into place this morning as he rose, but when he finally located the hem halfway down the bed, decided he was mistaken. Well, it had been a day for confusion.

Slipping under the blanket and stretching out, he realized that there was something wrong. Just as he turned to see what was keeping him from moving to his spot right in the middle of the bed, an arm snaked around his waist. From out of the darkness came the sound of, "Keptin, Sulu was right. Your cabin is bigger."

~end of T'Thrill part~

Jim sat up with a start.

"What the….?"





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


He made coffee. Why not? Sleep was completely out of the equation. Any more tension couldn't change anything. Still operating under vague feelings of shame, he used the fitful glow of the city to see by rather than turn on the lights.

Grinding, measuring, spooning, brewing. The ceremony was a study in what Bruce Lee called the serenity of repetition. And the familiar movements and odors began to unknot some of the ropes of tension strung along his back.

The darkness was soothing too. It might be the kind of illumination on the Enterprise late in the shift. Here in this incubatory realm he felt as though he could almost think his way through the problems he'd given himself.

Spock was gone, but he hadn't been the one to run away. He had dug his spurs into Spock as surely as if it had been a royal command.

*Look what you've done, James.* Jim poked his cup around in a little circle and stared at it. Suddenly drinking the brew wasn't as fulfilling as making it.

What was it Bones had said of him once? "Self recriminations are easy, captain..."

Yes; he'd been deserving of a "captain" speech that day. Forcing decisions that were unpleasant for the sake of the ship...one of many such incidents.

"...self recriminations are easy, captain, but its quite another thing to actually examine what you've done from a distance. Your knack for guilt isn't very original..."

The words had hurt. Bones' advice often did when he was in need of a scolding. Or when Bones felt he was repeating the mistakes of his past--that *really* got the CMO riled up.

"...isn't very original...have you even taken a look at your own logs, Jim? I mean, really, actually looked at them?"

"...what am I looking for, Bones?"

"I'll tell you if you can't figure it out..."

How much had Bones known? Had he seen through both of them and grown impatient with the endless runarounds? Jim suddenly wanted to ask the man a lot of questions, but McCoy was as good as on the other side of the Klingon Empire right now; wholly unreachable except on his own terms.

*Maybe he saw more than we knew...* Jim leaned his chin in his hand and brooded into the dark distance where his wall ought to be. *He joined space because of a relationship gone bad; broken heart. Like a scene from a bad vid. And speaking of bad, what would anyone think of me? This wouldn't be a believeable plot, would it? The Great James T. Kirk, the man who faces aliens, enemies and even gods, can't face what's inside him. That's where he does all his running.*

Without thinking, he sipped his coffee. Without thinking, he swallowed. McCoy would have been a good foil for this...Jim was realizing that his denial of his own emotions had betrayed Spock to the core. After years of being a good example of humanity, he wasn't supposed to look Spock dead in the eye and lie about what they both knew was the truth. Denial had been Spock's ticket, for years. Learning how to be honest with himself had been long and hard. And how had Jim rewarded that struggle?

Badly.

*I'm more afraid of myself...than I am of any Vian or omnipresent being. Not good for my reputation, is it? And what does that make Spock? "Kirk's Shadow" the Klingons call him. I used to wonder if it hurt him to be called that. And I never asked. He probably would deny it bothered him...*

Spock...

Jim got to his feet, drink left behind. He still wasn't thinking too deeply about what he had to do. If he did his nerve truly would falter. Overthinking killed a soldier. Starfleet had taught that lesson over and over again.

Holding his breath, he went to the comm on his desk.

~end of Marcy part~

Sarek would know how to reach him, he would start there.

But before opening the link to Spock that he had intended he called up his own logs, and started reading.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Jim sat up with a start. "Pavel! What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted.

"I told you, in the corridor. After what happened today, I wanted to do this. I've wanted to do this for a very long time."

"Pave," Jim's voice softened, "you don't know what you're saying. It's the liquor talking. Seems there's a lot of that going on tonight. What you need is to go back to your cabin and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow things will look a lot better."

"Nyet! No...please...please don't make me go back there! I don't want to be alone, not tonight! Every time I close my eyes, I see..."

Jim felt the shiver that ran through Chekov's body. Today, this officer, one of the finest, bravest in the fleet, had stared death in the face. The brash confidence he had long associated with Pavel had been replaced with a vulnerability that Jim had never seen from him before. Playing the roll of comforter was not one that Jim usually felt at ease with, but he knew that tonight, this man needed that from him. Perhaps tonight, he realized, they needed that from each other.

"Keptin?.........Jim?" Pavel whispered in the darkness. Jim knew he was waiting on an answer. Would he be allowed to stay? Or would his captain send him back to the lonely darkness of his cabin to face his demons alone? No, there would be no more demons torturing this man tonight, Jim decided.

Lying back down, he wrapped his arm around Pavel's shoulder and pulled him to his chest. "Shhh..." he soothed. "You can stay here, Pave. Whatever it is, we'll face it together, okay?"

Chekov laid his head snuggly on Jim's chest and wrapped his arms around his captain's waist in a grip that Jim could have only described as one of desperation. Almost absentmindedly, Jim began to smooth back the hair that spilled onto his shoulder and began to softly comb his fingers through the soft, thick mane.

The arms around him began to relax and he felt a hand move from around his waist to his chest, then to his one exposed nipple. Slowly, Pavel began to trace the sensitive nub with his fingertip and gently roll it between his finger and thumb. Jim felt his body begin to respond to the sensual touch.

Jim began to explore further with his hand, tracing the outline of the small, round ear, the back of the neck and across Pavel's shoulder. Scraping gently with his fingernails, he followed the path of the young officer's spine from his neck to his waist and felt Pavel press against him with growing arousal. When Pavel turned his head and captured the, now hard, nipple that had been lying beneath his cheek, Jim felt the knot of desire within his gut explode. Good sense told him this shouldn't be happening, but good sense had seemed to take its leave of the ship this evening.

But even in the haze of passion that threatened to overtake him, he knew he had to be sure this was what Pavel wanted. With all the resistance he could muster, he reached for Pavel's head and pulled it up. In the darkness he could make out the glistening of the dark brown eyes. "Pavel, are you sure about this?" he asked.

"Jim," Pavel whispered, "I'm not so drunk as you think. I'm sure. Just as sure as I know that tomorrow we will go back to like it was before this accident. And that's what I want. For everything to be like it was. But not tonight. Tonight, I want this. But, do you want me to stop?"

Jim swallowed, hard. Whatever the consequences of this night, he knew this is what he wanted too. "No," he breathed, as he pulled Pavel's mouth to his. The taste of the sweet, young mouth against his, lightly flavored with the fiery taste of the Vodka that Pavel had consumed earlier, tore away the last of his resistance.

The fingers that had been taunting his nipple found their way down his body and captured his erection. His own hand enjoyed the discoveries of Pavel's body as it slid down the hard, muscular form until he was caressing the length of his navigator's rock-hard, seeping cock.

Through the night, they discovered the taste and feel of each other as they explored and touched and fucked and sucked their way to the early hours of the morning. All needs and desires were satisfied when sleep finally claimed them, still wrapped tightly together within each other's arms. And it was Pavel freeing himself from the confines of his arms that awakened Jim. "Morning," Jim smiled at the man sitting up next to him.

"Da. It is a good morning," Pavel smiled back.

"What time is it?" Jim yawned.

"You can sleep for a while, yet. It's early. Oh-five hundred," Pavel answered as he moved to cross Jim to get to the open side of the bed.

"You're leaving?" Jim asked, suddenly quite awake and not willing to let him go, not yet.

"It's time, Keptin. If I do not leave now, the corridors will be crowded and everyone will know I spent the night here."

So, Jim noted, it was back to 'Captain.' Pavel was right, of course. The fewer people who knew about this night, the better. But he couldn't help, just once more, brushing the dark hair away from the youthful face and wishing, for this moment, that their time together wasn't through. "And if I asked you to stay?"

"Then, I would stay. But then Starfleet would find out and I would be transferred off of the Enterprise."

"And things could never be as it was before, could they? Can it be as it was, Pavel? After last night? Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes, Jim. I will be fine, now. But, thank you."

"For what?"

"For letting me stay. For making me feel like you would let me stay longer. Can I tell you one thing before I go back to being just your navigator?"

"Pavel, you have never been *just* a navigator to me, you never will."

Chekov smiled.

"Go ahead, what would you like to say?" Jim asked.

"I found out yesterday just how quickly we can lose everything. It made me see how important it is to take those chances that we want, but are afraid of. I've watched you with Mr. Spock, we all have. Take the chance."

Jim opened his mouth to respond, but there were no words that would come out. Was he really that obvious? Before he could say anything more, Pavel was dressed and gone.

The day was a busy one and since the science team was addressing the problems that had occurred the day before, Jim saw little of Spock. For the most part, the crew seemed over the trauma that they had suffered less than twenty-four hours before and everything was running remarkably smoothly. Pavel had reported to the bridge on time and was his usual, smiling self. When the tractor beam failed to retrieve all the wreckage, it was decided to use the extendable crane to capture the last of the shuttle remnants and bring them into the bay. When Pavel proudly announced to a groaning bridge team that the crane was a Russian invention, Jim knew everything was as it had been before. Only once during the shift did their eyes meet and a soft smile pass between them.

At the end of the day, when the ship had quieted down to the soft muted hum that was so familiar during the mid-gamma shift, Jim began his usual circuit around the saucer. But tonight he would not make even one full rotation before he found himself at Spock's door.

Signaling his presence, he stepped inside when the door slid open. Seeing Spock standing there had the usual reaction, as if his breath was being pulled from him. He knew that there was one person he had encountered who he loved, and that man was standing before him.

Some small talk was exchanged between them regarding the accomplishments of the day. When it seemed there was nothing else to say, Jim turned to leave, but turned back. Pavel's words had rung heavy in his ears all day. Steeling his courage, he started, "Spock, someone recently made me see how quickly things can change. I may be taking a big chance here, but there is something I need to tell you....about the...feelings I have for you." One more deep breath, and he said, "You see, Spock, it seems I love you."

The few steps between them were quickly covered; Jim wasn't certain who had made the first move. But he found himself encased within strong, warm arms. A deep, rasping voice, thick with emotion, purred into his ear, "It's a chance I've been hoping you could take, Jim. Yes, for a very long time I have wished for you to take such a chance."

~end of T'Thrill part~

~The End~

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TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Sarek would know how to reach him, he would start there. He wouldn't stop until he could take Spock's face between his hands and tell him those things that he should have said then. Even if Spock rejected him, he would finally have the kind of peace that only comes with truth.

Peace...something he hadn't known since those last days on the Enterprise. There were times when his duties as head of fleet operations consumed his waking hours, and for those brief respites he could forget about the dark eyes, filed with pain, that stared at him that day. But then night would fall, exhaustion and fatigue would drive him to bed for a few hours of rest, rest that was rarely achieved because the nightmares would begin all over again.

There was an ember of excitement that seemed to ignite within his chest as he sat down at the desk. It was a strange, yet familiar, feeling that had not been there for a long, long time. It was only a spark, but it was a spark that reminded him what it had felt like to be alive. He realized that the time spent at Starfleet headquarters hadn't been living, just merely existing.

There was no turning back now. His decision was made. He would need to notify Nogura that he was taking a leave of absence. He wouldn't be able to tell him how long. As long as it took, was the best answer he would have. Spock may still be on Vulcan, but wherever he was, even if he had to follow his trail through the Antaries nebula, it didn't matter. He *would* find him.

He commed the communications center. "This is Admiral James Kirk. I need to be linked with the Vulcan Embassy in S'hi'kar. I want to speak directly with Ambassador Sarek."

"That will take a few minutes, Admiral," came the reply.

"Signal me when you have it setup. I'll be here."

"Yes, sir."

Jim stood up and paced nervously around the room. The spark within him had grown into a full-fledged flame of anticipation and desire. What was he going to tell Sarek? Did the Ambassador know what had happened between them? If so, would Sarek tell him where Spock was? If Spock is still on Vulcan, he knew a transport could get him there in three days, but was there a way to get there faster? The Enterprise was due for test runs after the refit, but that was still weeks away and there were no other starships in the quadrant. And even if there were, Nogura would probably be less than willing to allow him confiscate one for the purpose of chasing down a potential lover. Nogura could be mighty narrow-minded that way. Jim chuckled to himself and realized it was the first time he had laughed since, well, he couldn't remember when.

Soon, he hoped, he would laugh often. Spock had to forgive him. Had to let him hold him like he wanted to then, when he allowed his own fears to stop him. Oh...what an indulgence in ecstasy it would be to hold that sweet Vulcan close and feel that delicious warmth penetrate and fill him. He would claim that mouth, over and over, and feel the hot breath as it beat against him, trailing a path of discovery down his body. Jim knew that this time there would be no hesitation, he would say all the things that Spock longed to hear, whisper all that he felt into the delicate, pointed ear.

He stood at the window and stared out over the ocean, but was seeing much further beyond. His arms crossed, his hands gripping his biceps, he was lost in the fantasy of being held by, and holding, the one he loved. His own shiver brought him back to reality. "I'm not running anymore, Spock. I'm coming to you. Wait for me," he whispered to the reflection in the glass.

He jumped when the comm unit beeped. He dashed back to the desk and sat down. With one deep breath to steady his newfound emotions, he keyed the comm pad.

But instead of the communications officer, there was the face of Admiral Nogura.

"Admiral Kirk, we have received an emergency message from Starbase 12. There is a situation arising on the outer rim. I'm calling in all senior personnel....Just a moment...Kirk, word has been received that one of our outposts has been destroyed."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes, Admiral," Jim stated.

He called for a hovercraft and slid into his uniform. The fire that had warmed him from within had once again grown cold.

~end of T'Thrill part~

The call from Sarek was put through to Kirk while he was being driven to Starfleet Headquarters.

The call came in just when Kirk had entered the elevator to go up to the meeting floor.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


A startled Uhura met his gaze.

"Good evening, Captain," she finally got out.

"Good evening, Lieutenant," he replied.

"I just...hmm..."

"You don't have to account for anything, Lieutenant," Kirk stated firmly, although inwardly he was dying for a simple explanation.

Spock appeared next to Uhura, wearing off-duty clothes which consisted of long black pants and his brownish robe which looked like velvet - although Kirk never had had the heart to actually touch it.

"The Lieutenant couldn't sleep, as most of the crew today," he said, eying Kirk who was fully aware that his own tiredness was showing. "We decided to practice on the concerto no.3 of S`hetask for our next performance."

Kirk nodded. "I see."

The following silence was short and painful, and finally broken by Uhura who stepped out of the door and turned around to face both men. "I will go to bed now. Thank you, Mr. Spock, I feel much more relaxed now. Good night to you. Good night, Captain." She inclined her head and went away, obviously glad to escape the slightly embarrassing situation.

"Did you wish to contact me, Captain?" Spock addressed himself at Kirk, who had been looking after Uhura and was now caught off-balance by the Vulcan.

"No... no... I was just passing along on my way to my cabin, when Uhura came out..." Kirk knew that Spock knew he was lying, but that didn't matter. Spock would simply accept his explanation under the codex of privacy, like he always did. At least he didn't have to tell him the truth...

Kirk was just turning away from Spock when the Vulcan raised a hand, almost touching his arm.

"What about a game of chess, Jim?" Spock's voice was dark and silky, and somehow inviting...

~end of Acidqueen part~

Or, maybe it was no different from how he always perceived that voice when it spoke his name.

But no matter how inviting the voice, Kirk could not bring himself to accept the invitation.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


"What the….?" Jim gasped as strong arms pushed him down onto his back and a naked body rose up to straddle him.

Insistent lips covered his own, taking advantage of the captain's surprise to invade his mouth with deep, soul-searching kisses. Pavel pulled the sheet tightly around them, forming something like a cocoon that effectively blocked Jim from pushing the amorous Russian away.

For a moment, Jim just laid there, the monster headache that had been a mere threat before now pounding mercilessly with every beat of his heart. His mind warred with himself.

~~This is not right! This is not proper behavior! I'm his captain, for Christ's sake! He's in my direct chain of command! The code of conduct states… !~~

But his body was saying another thing altogether as he felt himself responding to the heat that Pavel was generating as the supple body rubbed seductively against his thighs, groin, and torso. The Russian reached down to stroke him and Jim's erection bloomed with the added attention. This only seemed to prod the younger man on even more.

About the time Jim was starting to feel his head was about to explode from the combination of headache and lack of oxygen, Pavel finally broke off the kiss. The Russian began tracking passionate kisses down Jim's chin and over his throat, all the while murmuring, "I hev always…" (kiss) "….wanted…" (kiss) "…to do this..." (kiss) "…Keptain."

"S…so you say, Pavel," Jim gasped as the Russian's lips made contact with his nipple. Jim thrust his hips up into his navigator's hand as it continued to pump his cock. His body seemingly detached from his mind and any form of common sense whatsoever, the captain found his hands snaking between the now loosened sheet and the smooth body above him. He caressed the ensign's back and then ran his fingertips through the young man's dark, silky hair, getting lost in the sensations as those wonderful lips traced kisses lower and lower down his body.

His mind raced, wondering what the hell was going on with the people on his ship. Although many of the crew seemed out of sorts earlier, unable to let go of the tension surrounding their collective near-death experience, things didn't seem totally out of the ordinary until Pavel kissed him in the corridor. After that, the signs became more disturbing. He found McCoy and Spock slopping down drunk. Perhaps that wasn't totally out of character for Bones when he was off-duty and another doctor was left in charge, but Spock? And then he found the Russian in bed with him. Pavel seemed to be one of the first affected and he'd been one of the shuttle pilots. The young man had been right in the middle of the danger, alone in his craft. Facing death--totally alone. Was this just a need to release some stress? Or was it something more ominous? Could it be some kind of space sickness? A virus? Something caused by the plasma pulse? Jim's headache began shortly after the ensign got him in a lip-lock in the corridor, the buzzing in his head getting progressively worse from there.

Although Jim thought he could be on to something--thought he should contact the bridge or someone about the possible dangers to his ship--all speculation and logical thought immediately left him when the young man's mouth licked around the head of his erection.

Feeling by now totally drunk with lust and need, Jim groaned as his hips thrust up and down in wild abandon to the ensign's ministrations on his cock and balls. Gods…the kid had a wonderful, talented mouth. And his fingers! Gods! Right there! Oh god! If this were madness, he'd go willingly into the depths.

"I hev always…" (slurp) "…wanted…" (slurp) "…to taste you…" (slurp) "… Keptain."

The ensign totally enveloped the erection and the intensity of the sensations that flowed through Jim almost caused the captain to cum. The Russian seemed to sense this and slowed his movements, pressing down on Jim's hips to still his thrusts and allow his captain's body to compensate for the mounting stimulation until he was ready to continue.

"Oh god. Oh, Pavel," Jim moaned after the tide was driven back for the moment and the ensign began sucking him in earnest again. Knowing he was lost, knowing he wanted this with someone else, Jim tried to force his hands to push the younger man off, to put a stop to this before it was too late. But he couldn't. This felt too good to stop. As he gently caressed the back of his navigator's neck, he was suddenly reminded of the old songs that his brother, Sam, used to listen to as they were growing up on the farm in Iowa. His brother loved the recordings found in the archives from late twentieth-century Earth. Sam used to play them all the time--at ear-splitting volumes--much to the consternation of their mother. But two lines from one of Sam's favorite songs suddenly came to mind. "When you can't be with the one you love…love the one you're with."

Love the one you're with. Love the one you're with. Jim's body certainly had taken up that siren song. He felt his hips thrusting up to meet Pavel's movements above him, fucking the young man's mouth until he was ready to explode.

"I…I'm going to…oh, Pavel," Jim panted before he thrust up one final time and, with an agonized groan, erupted.

Moments later, his mind began to clear, feeling sated and content in a post-coital haze. He realized that his headache, which had pounded mercilessly just moments before, was completely gone. What was left was a fuzzy, drunken happiness that made him chuckle to himself.

He looked down at Pavel, who was cleaning his captain's groin most efficiently with his mouth and tongue. Jim reached down and gathered the youthful body up against his chest. He rolled them over, laughing, as he pinned the younger man beneath him. Looking into his navigator's face, reading the raw lust that still simmered in those dark eyes, Jim felt his cock jump.

Leaning down, Jim captured the Russian's mouth, much like the younger man had done to him just moments before. Tongues warring with each other, Pavel finally relented and allowed Jim inside to do a little probing of his own.

The rest of the night moved in slow motion for Jim. First he fucked Pavel hard on the bunk. Then he bent the ensign over the foot of his bunk and fucked him again. Then they ended up on the floor, Jim sucking the Russian off until the young man started talking incoherently in his native language. They made love up against the bulkhead and on top of Jim's desk. Jim taught Pavel some of his favorite moves and positions, while the captain learned a few things himself from the lusty Russian. They were like an unstoppable fucking machine, seemingly lacking the need for rest or sustenance in between their lovemaking to recharge themselves.

Towards morning, Pavel coerced Jim into taking a shower with him, the young man stating over and over that he had always wanted to do that. Jim was finding he enjoyed discovering what Pavel had always wanted to do with him. It had certainly been an enlightening night, one Jim wasn't likely to forget.

As if reading his captain's thoughts and desires, the Russian punched in the settings for a water shower. Jim nodded his approval. This was definitely not the time to take a sonic shower--only real water would do.

Although the need was still burning within him as he stepped into the shower, Jim decided to try slowing things down. He took a few moments to enjoy the simple task of lathering his navigator's dark hair with shampoo. For his part, Pavel wasn't listening to the subtle message, rubbing his backside up against Jim's groin. It didn't take long for the captain to forget his plan. He clamped his lover's hands into the handgrips that were recessed into the wall of the shower. After pouring body oil from the mounted dispenser into his hands, Jim prepared himself and then his companion--although Pavel seemed more than ready for penetration on a larger scale than his mere fingers. Answering the siren song again, Jim centered his cock and entered in one fluid motion. Their mutual need was so strong, so raw, that they started undulating wildly against each other as soon as they were joined, both building the sensations to higher and higher levels of passion.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Jim noticed a figure framed in the entrance to his bathroom. As he continued to thrust madly into the willing body in front of him and pumped the Russian's cock in rhythm, Jim squinted to make out the features through the steamy haze of the clear shower wall. The figure seemed frozen in the doorway. Trapped in the wanton needs of his own body, the captain couldn't stop his thrusts to investigate further. An agonized groan escaped his lips as he felt himself getting close. Forgetting their intruder for the moment, he closed his eyes, enjoying the soft, passionate moans of his lover. It was one of the things Jim had discovered that night; Pavel made the most delightful sounds when he was about to cum.

With a low growl, Jim thrust deep inside the ensign's body and erupted in a bone-rattling, mind-blowing climax. He stood there for a long time, taking in all of the input that was registering in a mad rush within his body. It was almost like he had never felt this alive before. Truly alive! And he was astonished at how wonderful it was. He marveled at the feel of his partner's body as he pressed the lithe figure up against the shower wall. He relished the feel of his cock as it pulsated inside the hot channel. He felt amazed at the sticky warmth of the fluid that flowed into and between his fingers as the Russian was pulled over the edge with him moments later.

Jim pressed his cheek against the Russian's neck and closed his eyes, his mind going muzzy in sated bliss. It was truly a blessing to be here, to be alive--to feel such life. It was a precious gift, a gift to be shared and lived to its full expression.

They stood there, motionless, for a long moment, the heated water of the shower hammering into their bodies. Slowly coming back to some level of reality, Jim opened his eyes. Remembering their intruder, Jim let out a gasp and turned towards the doorway to his bathroom. The figure still stood there, as if transfixed.

Jim gently withdrew from the body in front of him and placed a soft kiss on Pavel's shoulder. "We have company," he whispered, suddenly feeling protective of the young man who had shared such an amazing night with him.

Pavel didn't reply, but as Jim pulled away, the ensign slowly sank to the floor of the shower. Before Jim realized what was happening, the Russian had curled up into a fetal ball, holding his head and moaning as if in pain.

Jim knelt down, concern for his navigator overruling his desire to rush out to discover the identity of their intruder.

"Pavel? Pavel...what's wrong?"

"Hurts…head hurts," was all the ensign said. Then he began trashing about as if suddenly caught in a painful convulsion.

Jim pinned the Russian down onto his back. The stricken man started to choke, as if drowning from the water that was streaming down over them both. Jim tried to shield his companion with his body, diverting the water away from Pavel's face as best he could.

After a long moment, the Russian seemed to still in his arms. With his eyes still closed tightly, the young man stammered, "S…sair?"

"Pavel…talk to me. What's wrong?"

"I…I….," Pavel gasped, opening his eyes slowly and looking up at Jim, blinking as if awaking from a dream. He reached up to Jim's face, caressed it, and then trailed his fingers down the captain's bare chest. "I always wanted this," he said with childlike wonder. "Always…wanted you. But…but can this…be real? Are you real, sair?"

The Russian's face transformed from an expression of wonder to one of horror. With a sharp cry, he wrapped his arms around the captain's waist and buried his face in Jim's chest.

"Oh, sair! I…I was in the shuttle. I was…I was about to die," the young man stammered.

Jim held the young man firmly against his chest and rocked back on his heels, cradling the man in his strong embrace. "I know. It's okay. You're alive. You got out alive...so did everyone else," he soothed. His only thought at the moment was to reassure the ensign that he was safe, that this was indeed real, and they had shared something life-affirming that night. Whatever the repercussions to their careers and their personal relationship, Jim wasn't about to short-change Pavel and hide his affection for the young Russian--not after what they had just shared.

Jim tried to reach up with one hand to turn off the water to the shower. However, before he could do so, he heard the shower door open and the water suddenly turned off.

Jim looked up and gasped.

"Spock! What are you doing…?"

The tall Vulcan looked down at him. With an uncharacteristic gleam in his eyes, the first officer replied, "I could ask you the same question, Captain."

~end of MizzMarcee part~

For a moment Jim blushed in shame - then anger took over.

Kirk didn't know what to say, as Spock loomed over them.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Or, maybe it was no different from how he always perceived that voice when it spoke his name. So intimate, almost as if his skin was being caressed by those rich tones. How could it be that his navigator could kiss him in the middle of the corridor and he felt only surprise, but let this man voice one simple word, "Jim," and it took nothing more than that for the heat to begin rising from deep within him? The question was a redundant one; he knew the answer. It was because what he felt for Spock was ingrained into the very core of his soul.

As Jim pondered this, Spock still watched him. And when an answer was not forthcoming, an eyebrow, the right one, gently rose in question. Jim couldn't help but smile. It was always the right one that rose in question. It was the left one which Spock elevated in disapproval and both would disappear into the dark, silky hairline, often accompanied by the term, "Fascinating," when this beautiful man found himself concealing his amazement. Jim wondered if Spock was aware of this, or if he realize how carefully he had been under his captain's scrutiny these last years.

"You sure it's not too late?" Jim asked.

"No, it is not," Spock replied in what Jim swore was a half purr.

Jim followed him into the warm cabin and, as he had done so many times before, turned the chairs around so the small table was positioned between them. Spock retrieved the multilevel chess set, already prepared with all but two of the pieces in their starting position, and placed it carefully upon the table before straightening to face him. Jim knew the two remaining pieces, one ivory and the other a deep umber, were concealed in Spock's closed hands.

"Left," Jim stated, and Spock opened his left hand to reveal the ivory piece before placing both on the board in their correct position. Jim seated himself beside the table where the ivory-colored soldiers stood, ready for battle, and made the first move.

Strategies were challenged and the tactical prowess of each man shown as warrior after warrior was captured. Although Spock's game seemed at its peek this evening, Jim knew his was less than exemplary. His concentration was quite compromised as he watched those long, slender fingers as they maneuvered the dark army, then, after each move, returned to their steepled position. How Jim longed to have those fingers maneuver his body.

They both sat at an angle to the board, their legs stretched out before them. It was how they usually sat when in one or the other's cabin. More relaxed than either could be while on duty, or even in one of the rec rooms. And, it allowed Jim to study the length of the man seated beside him. He loved watching the movement of the long lines and the sharp angles, and the ripple of muscle that occurred beneath the soft brown material as Spock reached out to make each play on the board.

Jim's concentration on the game was further interrupted when Spock stated, "Your game is off. You seem preoccupied this evening."

In an attempt to cover his present train of thought, he answered, "It's the accident today. It seems to have affected the crew quite strongly, especially Mr. Chekov."

"In what way?"

"He's just not himself this evening. I ran into him and Sulu in the corridor. Pavel had been drinking, and quite a bit, it seemed." Jim looked up to the face across from him. Spock worked closely with Pavel; maybe he could shed some light on the actions from his navigator. "Spock, he kissed me. Then he said something about how he had always wanted to do that."

Both of the Vulcan's eyebrows disappeared beneath the dark line of hair. "Indeed!" he commented, his surprise undisguised.

"Do you have any idea why he would do that? I mean, you've worked closely with him. Is there anything I need to know about?"

"Jim, I am aware that the ensign holds you in high esteem. I am, however, unaware of any desire he has for a physical relationship. Perhaps it is the events of the day and the consumption of alcoholic beverage that caused him to react in such a manner. It has been my observation that human emotions are quite amplified in times of extreme stress and is often exacerbated by the consumption of intoxicants. And, as one of the shuttle pilots today, his stress is understandable." Spock moved a chess piece and Jim noticed the obvious mistake. Perhaps Spock's game was not quite as good tonight as he had thought. Jim captured the invading player.

"Maybe you're right," Jim replied.

The game continued in silence until, several minutes later, Spock asked, "Did you find it enjoyable?"

The question took Jim by surprise. Had Spock been concentrating on his navigator kissing him instead of the game? Maybe the reason the Vulcan's game suddenly took a turn for the worse was that he was disturbed by this. Well, Jim thought, one could hope. "Pavel? Kissing me?"

Spock nodded, slightly.

"Well, I wouldn't say it was unpleasant by any means," he teased. But then more seriously, he added, "I think it shocked more than anything. It's not that I have anything against kissing, but my navigator isn't the one who'd be my..." Jim stopped. He was saying too much and he knew it.

Nothing more was said between them for a while until Spock asked, "Why?"

Jim looked up from the playing surface to meet the dark eyes. "Why? Spock?"

"Why were you outside my door this evening? You do not have to pass my door on the way to your cabin, Jim."

Jim looked back at the playing table, unwilling or unable to answer, he wasn't sure which. He moved his bishop diagonally to where it came to rest in front of Spock's knight and removed his hand. In an almost immediate move, Spock moved his rook up and captured the bishop. "Check," he stated, as Jim witnessed the error in his judgment as it played out before him.

Jim looked back at his opponent and there was the questioning right eyebrow angled upward. Spock was still waiting on an answer. Jim knew the answer, but knew the courage he had found as he made his way to the cabin had left him.

Instead of placing the ivory-colored bishop to the side with the rest of the captured pieces, Spock held it in the tips of his fingers, rolling it slightly, his thumb caressing across the rounded top. The shape of the piece was undeniably very nearly a phallic symbol with a long, straight rod protruding up from the base, and ending in a distinctive, round, smooth cap.

The sight of Spock's administrations to the object undid Jim. He felt his body spring to life with arousal, and he was sure his reaction did not go unnoticed as the dark eyes, now even more black than usual, moved down his body and back up.

Spock stood up and, straddling Jim's legs, placed his hands on the armrests on either side of Jim's chair. Leaning down, he said in a deep, rasping voice that was only a breath above a whisper, "I'm still waiting on an answer, Jim. Why did you come to my cabin this evening?"

Jim reached up and placed his hand at the back of Spock's neck. Gently, he pulled the head toward him until their lips joined. Jim felt himself falling into this kiss as the warm lips parted against his. The taste he had longed for filled his senses.

He found himself being pulled to his feet and pressed tightly against Spock's body, his own hardness met with the hot, steely hardness of the man who, before this night was over, would be his lover.

His hands caressed the body beneath the ultra-soft material and as the uniform tunic was being removed from him, he untied the belt of Spock's robe and slid it from the broad shoulders. For the first time, bare-chested, flesh to flesh, they pressed against each other. Breaths were taken in quick, short gasps as kisses changed to nibbles against exposed skin wherever lips could reach. Gasps were replaced by soft moans as hands discovered areas that aroused and enflamed. Moving closer to the bed, all remaining clothing was systematically stripped away as more and more flesh became exposed until each were standing naked against the other.

Then they were no longer standing, but lying on the bed where they were rolling and thrashing and pumping, their bodies dueling against the other. Hard cock was rubbing against hard cock, searching, seeking those positions that would give them each maximum pleasure. Moans were replaced by deep, guttural roars as wave after wave claimed them. Streams of hot ejaculate spread within and between them. Beads of sweat poured from them as years of need and longing were fulfilled time and time again.

In the early morning hours, when Jim found speech was once again possible, he whispered into the damp, warm neck, "Because I've always wanted to do this."

~end of T'Thrill part~

"Hmmmmmm?" was Spock's lazy reply.

"And now that you have?" Spock asked, coolly.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Kirk took a took a step away from the door as two forms locked together in a kiss stumbled backwards out the door. The Captain instinctively moved sideways in order to avoid the couple. Kirk watched as the taller form, the one who had been walking forward pulled his mouth away from the other man's. "That's enough, Ensign." he said gently, pushing the blond figure away from him. Kirk dimly recognized Ensign Patrick Calleum, a promising science officer. He recalled some betting on who would be the first crew member to sleep with undeniably beautiful ensign.

The ensign who'd been kissing Spock. That thought struck Kirk still, as silent as if his blood was as ice cold as it felt. The ensign who'd been kissing Spock. Kissing Spock. Touching Spock.

The other two men in the hallway paid no attention to the Captain; as little as if he were not there at all. Calleum raised a slim hand and gently trace the arch of Spock's left eyebrow. Spock pulled the hand away after tolerating the caress for a moment. The Ensign held tight to the hand, pulling it to his mouth to kiss it, holding Spock's eyes. Spock arched an eyebrow at the young man pulling his hand away. "You are intoxicated, Mr. Calleum. Due to the events of today, I will consider it a result of human inability to tolerate the stress. I recommend you stop by sickbay and request medication to counter the nausea and headache you will doubtlessly have tomorrow as a result of your overindulgence. As for this encounter I will consider it a private matter between the two of us and will go no further. I do not want you to find it difficult to work with me as I value your work in the Science Department."

Calleum traced the curve of Spock's ear. Without change in expression Spock pulled the hand away much as he had pulled away the hand tracing his eyebrow, though without allowing Calleum to capture removing hand. "Mr. Calleum, it is time to return to your quarters."

"I would rather return to yours." Calleum stated huskily.

"That is not an option."

With a sigh, Calleum leaned up to lightly touched his lips to Spock's once more. "You'd give this up? For him? Does the Captain even know how much you love him?"

"I rather doubt it." Spock said dryly, absently. He grasped the ensign's shoulders and bodily turned him toward his quarters, which lay in the same direction as Kirk was standing, bringing him face to shocked face with the captain.

~end of Mecca part~

Calleum was the first to find his voice again.

"Mr Calleum," Spock repeated, "it is time to return to your quarters."





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


The call from Sarek was put through to Kirk while he was being driven to Starfleet Headquarters. For a moment he debated whether to take it, his romantic dream of chasing Spock half way across the galaxy had fled in the face of Nogura's news. Deciding that at least Sarek could give him news on Spock's whereabouts he opened the channel.

"Greetings, Ambassador." He raised his hand in the Vulcan formal greeting and the Ambassador returned his gesture.

"Admiral Kirk."

"Thank you for returning my call Ambassador. I wanted to contact Spock, could you please provide me with his location? I believe he is on Vulcan somewhere?"

If a Vulcan's face could be said to reflect surprise then Sarek's did at that question. He raised one sedate eyebrow.

"Spock had been studying at Gol since his departure from Starfleet. However, he is no longer on Vulcan, Admiral. I was informed that he had departed for Earth 28.65 days ago. I had presumed that he would have made contact with you upon his arrival."

Kirk was surprised at the shaft of anger he felt, Spock had been on Earth for three weeks and hadn't contacted him? Aware that Sarek was waiting for a response he held his features in a non committal expression and answered calmly.

"No, I haven't heard from him Ambassador. Do you know what his plans were?"

"Spock has rarely informed either his mother or myself of his plans Admiral. If you should hear from him, please ask him to contact his mother. She does become 'concerned' at these times."

Kirk felt the hovercraft settling to the ground and knew that they had arrived. With his thoughts in turmoil he hurriedly said goodbye to Sarek and exited the vehicle. The early morning air was cold and sapped away the last of his earlier excitement at having made plans to find Spock. The truth was that his friend had no interest in contacting him, had made no attempt to do so even when the opportunity had presented itself. Spock had obviously moved on with his life. It was time that he did the same.

Dismissing his tangled emotions from his mind he focused on the current situation. Nogura's message had been very grave, an entire outpost had been destroyed. How? As he strode into the main building he noticed the unusually high level of activity for this hour of the morning. There was a steady trickle of officers reporting for duty and he returned their murmured greetings with a nod. One of Nogura's aides was waiting for him, and escorted him through security up to the Admiral's office on the topmost floor of the building.

The older Admiral greeted his protégé with a solemn handshake.

"Jim, thanks for coming so quickly."

"What's the latest Admiral, has there been any further contact with Starbase 12? Do we know what happened to the outpost? Which one was it?" He rasped the questions out in his best command manner.

"There's been a visual message, but I want to wait to play it for you. I'm expecting..." The Admiral was interrupted by the chime of his personal intercom. He listened gravely to his aide in the outer office, and then cut the communication. "Here he is now."

The door hissed open behind Kirk and he turned to greet the new arrival.

It was Spock.

~end of Menolly part~

Kirk stood, facing the new arrival.

"Admiral Kirk," Spock nodded his head slightly in Kirk's direction, then stood and waited patiently for a response.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


For a moment Jim blushed in shame - then anger took over.

Anger at Pavel, for throwing himself at him, anger at himself, for giving in to the navigator, and anger at Spock for coming in just in this very moment...

Then anger got mixed with despair as he realized that he had probably spoiled what little chances Spock and he would have had for just one night with Pavel...

His impulse to throw Pavel away for Spock within the blink of an eye instantly gave Jim a bad conscience, and in the turmoil of his emotions his final answer shot out of his mouth like a bullet.

"We are in my cabin. And if you still don't know what we were doing here after all your peeping, you should study Humanity 101 once again!" he said. 'Oh my god,' Jim thought. 'Did I say this?'

Spock's face turned to stone.

He *had* said it.

"Very well, Captain," Spock replied icily and retreated straightaway. The shower door closed behind him with a bang of deafening quality.

'Oh my god, I fucked it all up,' Jim thought, and the sunken Pavel was forgotten as he jumped up and out of the shower, grabbing Spock's upper arm just before the Vulcan could leave the cabin.

"Oh Spock," he muttered shaking. "I'm sorry - "

Spock spun around and pushed Jim's arm aside with one single painful stroke, and there was no mistake - Spock was really angry now, too. Dark eyes sparkled, and his lips were tightly pressed together, an unusual hectic flush of green coloring his cheek bones.

"Do - not - touch - me!" the Vulcan hissed through clenched teeth.

Jim's eyes narrowed to small slits.

"Why not?" he replied challenging, placing his hand around the Vulcan's arm again and pulling their bodies near to each other.

"Don't you like it?" he asked in a husky voice, all too aware of the imminent danger.

"How dare you..." Spock's voice was barely audible, his blazing eyes only inches away from Jim's.

And then Jim kissed Spock with about as much cogitation as for his first sentence, thus delivering the kiss rather like an assault than like the tender touch of a lover...

When he drew away, the slap in his face made him fly through half his cabin and into the corner near his bunk, where he landed on one of the spoiled sweaty sheets they had disposed of earlier. His mind whirled in colors for some seconds, and when he could look for the Vulcan again, he found Spock was gone.

~end of Acidqueen part~


Jim knew with absolute certainly that Spock was completely gone.

"Hold STILL, dammit."

Jim staggered to his feet.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


The walls of the bungalow were suddenly closing in on him, he had to get out. He made his way to the beach, where the gently crashing waves and star-spangled sky would help to ease his anxiety.

Following the well-worn path to the isolated cove he had discovered his first night in the bungalow, he realized that he had spent a portion of every night here, for one reason or another. It had become his sanctuary ... his refuge ... his escape. He could not help but think that this refuge would not be necessary if he had made different choices ... if he had not allowed his fears to consume him.

On the Enterprise, fear had never ruled his actions ... never crippled him when it came to life and death decisions. But when it came to personal matters such as love and commitment, he always seemed to let fear have the upper hand. In his youth, there had been Ruth, then Carol, then Gary ... countless others over the years. He had always had a reason for pulling away when things got too serious.

He didn't even want to think about all the missed opportunities ... yet when everything he ever wanted had been offered to him, he pushed it away once again.

How could he have treated Spock that way, when every fiber of his being ached to be with him? Their last moment together continuously replayed itself in his mind, forcing him to make a decision.

Returning quickly to the bungalow, he punched in the code to Spock's home on Vulcan. As he waited for the connection to be made, he composed his thoughts, and hoped that Spock would allow him to say everything he needed to say.

But when the connection was finally made, it was Sarek, not Spock who appeared onscreen. A brief conversation revealed that Spock had gone to study at Gol, and fear once again consumed him ... for it might be too late to tell Spock his true feelings.

~end of T'Lin part~


As if on autopilot, Kirk ran to the bedroom and started throwing clothes into a travel bag.

Studies at Gol...





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


The call came in just when Kirk had entered the elevator to go up to the meeting floor. For a short moment he was torn between the again inflaming hopes and desires he had shaken off only minutes ago and his duties as Admiral, but then he made his decision.

"I will go to my office. Please put it directly through to there."

He stopped the elevator one floor below his original goal. He didn't have much time, so he sped to his office, almost hitting the door as it opened slower than he wished it to. He fell into the chair behind his desk and took a deep breath before he finally accepted the transmission.

"Greetings, Ambassador," Jim Kirk said when the face of Sarek appeared on the screen, and raised his hand in the Vulcan formal greeting, but there was no response. Instead, the Vulcan's features stood frozen, and not a hint of movement was detectable from his dark eyes down to the last crinkles of his robe.

Kirk frowned as foreboding flowed through his chest. But there was nothing to stop him now.

"Thank you for returning my call. I wanted to contact Spock, could you please provide me with his location? I believe he is on Vulcan somewhere?"

It was astonishing to see how the already frozen face could become mantled with another icy layer, and a slight nausea got its hold on Kirk. He could almost feel a cold breeze, although he sat in his well-tempered office.

"Are you alone?" Sarek's question caught him by surprise, but he nodded.

The Vulcan slowly bent forward, drawing just a fraction of an inch nearer to the screen, and suddenly the feeling of intimidation crept up Kirk's spine. It was hard for him not to retreat from the now piercing gaze of his vis-à-vis.

"When Spock took his final leave from his mother and me before his departure to Gol, I succeeded in ascertaining his motives. Probably you have not been aware that what Spock was ready to share with you is one of the highest taboos in modern Vulcan society."

Kirk flinched under this accusation. Yes, he hadn't known that till several months later, when Bones had sent him a small note about it. On Vulcan, male-male relationships were considered reminders of the warrior time, a dangerously unbalanced connection between two aggressive beings. Heterosexual relationships were the only accepted logical choice now. But would that knowledge have changed his reaction on that day in the past?

Sarek went ahead, only his overly stern facade betraying some of the deep-lying emotions.

"His commitment to you would have been a worse insult to our House than his joining of Starfleet. Expulsion would have been the logical result. He would not have been allowed on Vulcan again. He would have been considered 'not-born'. His files on Vulcan would have been deleted. No Vulcan would have talked about him again."

Sarek made a short pause, obviously to control and calm down his growing agitation on this subject.

Kirk swallowed hard. He hadn't realized that Spock had really put all his eggs in one basket - and his human captain had taken them and crashed them on the floor, trampling them into a shattered mess. He cleared his throat against the overwhelming guilt before he could answer, harsher than he wanted to.

"Well, then you should have been happy to get him back unspoiled - "

Sarek raised his hand, interrupting Kirk's speech in an - by Vulcan standards - almost outrageous way .

"He is not back - he went to Gol. He is dead to the outside world, even to his parents."

The sentence lingered between them for a second before Sarek went ahead.

"I am disappointed with him. I have been this for many years, as you well know. But his error in judgment concerning you is one I share. When I was aboard, I could sense that you held each other in more than high esteem. It was nothing I was satisfied with, but I would have accepted his choice in the end. Personal satisfaction can be considered a logical goal."

Kirk's heartbeat pounded in his ears. Was Sarek telling him he would have approved of their relationship, despite all the implied hardness for all sides, just for the sake of Spock's happiness? That was completely out of character for Sarek.

"Unfortunately, you could not admit your feelings. A typical flaw of Humans, as I tried to assure him, but as usual he did not listen to me."

Sarek leaned another fraction of an inch nearer to the screen. His voice grew darker when he said his final words.

"And today you call me because you want to talk to him? Maybe you changed your mind. Maybe you feel guilty. But your feelings are irrelevant. This harm cannot be made undone and the result has to be accepted. Kaiidth."

The Ambassador hesitated for a moment, and then leaned back slightly and raised his hand in the Vulcan formal greeting. "Live long and prosper nevertheless, James T. Kirk." The screen went blank as Sarek ended the transmission.

~end of Acidqueen part~


Kirk had one fervent wish right now: to avoid that meeting.

Kirk sat paralyzed in front of the comm screen, numb to the core.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


But no matter how inviting the voice, Kirk could not bring himself to accept the invitation. Uhura's presence stripped him of his resolve of moments before. "Sorry, Spock ... perhaps some other time. I think I've finally worn myself out enough to sleep."

"I see," Spock said. But Kirk couldn't help but notice the change in Spock's demeanor ... if he were any other person, Kirk would say he appeared disappointed. There was an uncomfortable silence between them for several heartbeats ... an interminable time in which Kirk almost changed his mind. As he opened his mouth to speak, however, Spock said, "Good night, captain. Sleep well," and then he stepped back to allow his door to close.

Kirk stood there, staring at the closed door for several moments longer. Shaking his head, he muttered under his breath, 'what have I done?' then walked the short distance to his own quarters.

~end of T'Lin part~


Spock stared at the closed door, puzzled.

He lay in bed, almost imagining he could hear Spock's deep, rhythmic breaths as he slept, the rhythm Kirk had committed to memory on a thousand away missions across the galaxy as the Vulcan slept deeply, almost silently had Kirk not been concentrating on the small, still sound.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


"Mr Calleum," Spock repeated, "it is time to return to your quarters."

"Yes, sir," the ensign said. And he walked past Kirk, his face flaming red.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Were you looking for me, Captain?"

"Was I..." Kirk couldn't pull his thoughts into order. "Spock, what was all that about?" he asked, hoping his voice wasn't as nakedly needy as Calleum's.

"Ensign Calleum is a young man with an overactive imagination," Spock said. "And today has been stressful for the junior officers."

"Calleum was in the Science labs," Kirk snapped. "Did he break a test tube?"

"Not that I am aware." Spock's composure showed not a crack.

"He asked you..." Kirk's voice descended to a confidential, but furious growl. "...if I knew how much you..."

"He offered himself to me, sexually. He chose to misunderstand my refusal, that is all. Perhaps an imagined prior claim was less... painful... than a simple rejection. If you have any further questions about what Mister Calleum said, I think you should address them to the ensign himself. But may I say, Captain, that I am not offended or insulted by what happened here tonight. I do not believe any disciplinary reaction is called for."

"If you say so," Kirk agreed. He forced himself to smile, and summoned up his most teasing voice. "He's not the only one to cross lines this evening. I had to fight off a lovestruck ensign myself a moment ago." He fixed his eyes on Spock's face, looking for jealousy, or at least concern.

"Indeed." Spock seemed completely unsurprised. "Mr. Chekov, I presume."

Kirk decided to go for a full frontal attack. "Do you love me, Spock?"

"Captain, I am a Vulcan of the house of Surak. You are a human of no particular social rank or intellectual attainment. I am obligated consider the future of my house and line at all times. You are male. You are too old and independent to be a concubine, insufficiently attractive to enhance my own social standing by acting as a visual accessory, and since most onlookers would presume that I had not purchased your sexual submission, a liaison with you would not even serve to advertise my economic power. In short, if I were seeking a lover, it would be manifestly illogical for me to waste your time and mine by flouting Starfleet's rules and propositioning you. Does that answer your question?"

"Yes." Kirk felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. "I'm glad you're not setting a bad example to your junior staff. Good night, Mr. Spock."

"Good night, Captain."

The two men turned away from each other, and Kirk let his wounded pride carry him down the corridor at a brisk pace. 'No particular social rank or intellectual attainment'. So that was what Spock thought of him. Presumably the Vulcan remained aboard the Enterprise because Kirk was some kind of lucky rabbit's foot who prevented calamity befalling his crew by sheer serendipity. 'Insufficiently attractive?' Who did the pointy eared leprechaun think he was? And what kind of economic power did Spock have on a commander's pay anyway? Or did his Vulcan daddy give him an allowance so he could buy the likes of Patrick Calleum and avoid compromising their family genome with the daughters of the Vulcan petit bourgeoisie?

"Oh, Captain, you're still awake."

He blinked the red rage out of his eyes and scowled at Yeoman Clayderman. 'No, you've just walked into my nightmare,' he considered saying. "Yes. Is that significant?"

"Admiral Greenleaf doesn't seem to think losing two shuttles is any reason not to have replied to his personnel reassignment requests, sir. I was just on my way to ask the duty doctor to order me not to disturb you."

"Let me see them." He held out his hand, still maintaining his rapid progress around the saucer. Clayderman was half running to keep up to him.

She handed him the padd and he cast his eye down the list of science personnel who could, apparently, be better employed on the research ship Clouseau than aboard the Enterprise. The name Kirk was looking for was missing. He added it, and deleted another at random. "That should keep the admiral happy," he said.

"Patrick?" she squeaked. "I mean, yes, sir. Should I tell Mister Spock before I inform these people that they've been reassigned?"

"I think that would be courteous. Tell him to speak to me if he can see any difficulties arising in his department."

He realised he was now outside his quarters. "Good night, Yeoman." He thumbed the door and left her. Inside his quarters, he drew what felt like the first breath of air he'd taken since Spock had rejected him.

~end of Jane Skazki part~


He held the breath for a few seconds.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Spock stared at the closed door, puzzled. When he saw Jim outside his door, he had assumed that he had come to see him, after all, his story of 'just passing by on the way to his quarters' had not been the truth -- his own door was closer to the turbolift that Spock's was -- Uhura's presence must have startled him.

But if Jim had wished to speak with him, why did he now refuse the invitation to play chess?

Of course, chess was not the only thing on Spock's mind ... as a matter of fact, he had planned on seeking out Kirk as soon as Uhura left, at her insistence. It had taken some time for her to convince him that he should reveal his feelings to Kirk, but she had been persistent, and after the events of this past day, he had to admit to himself that her arguments were flawlessly logical.

He left his quarters, and made his way to Kirk's. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he pushed the buzzer to announce himself. There was a longer pause than normal, but eventually the door opened. Kirk was standing there, shirtless. "Jim, we need to talk," Spock said, as he stepped into the darkened room.

"Yes, we do."

~end of T'Lin part~


Jim walked over to where a decanter and two glasses rested on a counter.

Spock took a deep breath.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


"Hmmmmmm?" was Spock's lazy reply.

"You asked why I came to your cabin," Jim explained. "Because I've always wanted to do this."

"This what?"

Jim nipped lightly at the hollow where Spock's neck joined his shoulder, his tongue soothing over the bite mark. "This." He rose up on his elbow, his lips traveling over the satiny smooth chest, marking his territory. "And this." His hand caressed the sharp angle of Spock's hip, fingers finding and raking through the tangle of dark hair between his thighs. "And especially this."

Spock raised his eyebrows. "I see."

Jim laughed, and planted a kiss on Spock's lips. "I don't know why I didn't kiss you sooner. I've wanted to for a long time now."

"Why didn't you?"

"Fear. Plain, old-fashioned fear. I was afraid of how the crew would react, afraid of rejection, afraid of loving anyone or anything other than Enterprise."

"You're not afraid anymore?"

Jim laughed. "Oh, I'm still afraid, I just decided I'm not going to let fear run my life."

"I still curious about one other thing, Jim," Spock said. "What will you tell the crew?"

"About us?" He shrugged. "I haven't thought that far ahead yet, but I suppose I'll tell them the truth. They're a good crew: hard working, loyal. They deserve nothing less." In one fluid movement, he was atop Spock, straddling his hips, a smile of triumph on his face. "Enough talking."

Spock's right eyebrow rose. "Again?"

"The night is still young, Spock, and there are many more things I've always wanted to do with you."

"I find the idea of spending more time in bed with you highly appealing, but it is actually morning now, Jim."

"But remember," Jim replied, "night and day are only simulated on a starship. I'm the captain; it's night if I say it is."

"In that case, Captain," Spock said, reaching up and wrapping his arms around Jim's neck, "what are you waiting for?"

~end of Cait N part~

~The End~

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As if on autopilot, Kirk ran to the bedroom and started throwing clothes into a travel bag. He had to do it; he had to go to Vulcan and tell Spock how he really felt. He knew, deep down inside, if he didn't go now, the old fears would creep back in and take control, and then he'd never tell Spock what was really in his heart.

Five minutes later, packed and anxious to leave, he ran into a dilemma: wheedle his way into getting passage on a starship, or travel by transport. A starship would certainly be faster, but there would be questions asked that he didn't really want to answer. Going by transport would be slower, but it would give him the anonymity he needed.

Two hours later saw him leaving the Los Angeles spaceport and heading for Vulcan. He spent the next two weeks of the voyage alternating between stark terror and euphoric optimism. As the transport docked on Vulcan, he wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers and squared his shoulders, running over in his head what he planned to say once he was standing face to face with Spock. He only hoped his newfound resolve wouldn't desert him once he was staring into those piercing brown eyes.

~end of Cait N part~

Kirk skimmed dangerously close to the desert surface in his aircar.

Obtaining access to Gol had been easier than he expected, and an acolyte had let him in promptly when he had knocked on the door of the main building.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Jim walked over to where a decanter and two glasses rested on a counter. "Drink? God knows I sure could use one."

"No thank you."

Jim shrugged and poured himself a shot of the whiskey, downing it in one gulp. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. Clearly he was waiting for Spock to speak first.

Spock cleared his throat, uncommonly at a loss for where to start. He wasn't use to letting his human side lead, and found it was more disconcerting than he'd expected. "I came here to tell you that I know why you were outside my cabin earlier."

"Oh?" Jim gave a small smile.

Spock wondered if, standing outside his quarters earlier, Jim had been as nervous as Spock was now. He could feels his palms sweating, something that had never happened before. "Uhura convinced me to tell you my feelings, especially after the events of earlier. It's one thing to tell yourself you'll work up the courage eventually. When your own mortality stares you in the face, courage is the least of your worries." He noticed Jim straightening up, a look of intense concentration on his face. "I don't want to die with you not knowing that. . . ." He walked forward and raised a hand to touch Jim's mussed hair, his fingers caressing the strands as if they were the most precious thing in the universe.

"That?" Jim prompted breathlessly.

Spock leaned down, his lips grazing Jim's ear, and whispered in a voice low and husky with years of pent up emotion, "That I love you."

"Oh, God." Jim pulled back to look into Spock's dark eyes. "Do you really mean that?"

Spock nodded. "With all my heart."

"I love you, too." Jim smiled, tears glistening in his eyes.

A smile spread across Spock's face, the first time he'd ever allowed his human side full reign. He wrapped Jim in a close hug, his hands running up and down his back. "I feared you didn't feel the same. All those away missions - all those women-"

"That was just because I couldn't have you," Jim answered. "I was so lonely, and frustrated." He chuckled. "I thought I'd lose you to Nurse Chapel."

Spock pulled back and raised his right eyebrow. "Nurse Chapel is a good woman, but all she has ever been to me is a fellow crewmember."

"That's good to hear," Jim said. "Now I don't have to have her transferred." He noticed Spock's frown and quickly added, "I was only joking."

"I can see it's going to be harder to indulge my human emotions than I had thought."

"I'll help." His grin was full of mischief. "I know one emotion we can start on right now."

"Oh?" The right eyebrow went up again.

Jim nodded, and took his hand, leading him to the bed. "Oh yes, but it's a very complex emotion, a lot of nuances to it, so it might take . . . oh, all night to explore it."

"It sounds fascinating."

"You haven't heard, or seen, anything yet," Jim promised.

"I could say the same to you," Spock countered. He slid his tunic off his shoulders, never taking his eyes off Jim's face.

"You could?"

"Oh yes." Spock's hands found their way to the front of Jim's trousers. "Did you know that there are over 122 arousal points on a Vulcan's body?"

Jim shivered grabbed Spock's butt, fingers kneading the tight flesh. "It could take me years to find them all."

"I'm counting on it."

~end of Cait N part~

~The End~

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Studies at Gol...

Jim found himself sitting and thinking of this as if his mind was not capable of anything else.

"Gol? It's the Vulcan version of Mt. Athos." Bones had chuckled wryly once, on one of their countless late-night-weekend-on-ship drinking discussions. McCoy could keep a tight reign on his sentimentality....so long as he didn't go below a certain, invisible line in the Saurian brandy bottle. And the two of them had often wound up talking about anything and everything.

Well, almost everything. You couldn't talk to Bones about history without fighting. Bones was completely stacked when it came to contempt for the kind of men Jim held in awe. For every good thing Jim had to say about Abe Lincoln, Bones would shoot back something equally bad, such as his opiate addiction, his disbelief in God, and what about those Indians he hung early in his presidency?

So, Jim generally steered clear of anything resembling a volitile topic--sort of keeping a mental map of potential conversation starters with massive amounts of the oceans charted with HERE BEE DRAGONS.

"What about Athos?" Jim had wondered.

"Ancient Greek monastary, its still running itself." McCoy explained, leaning back in his chair. "Men only. They don't even allow female goats or rabbits on the grounds." He lifted his eyebrows silently. "Other than that, nice people."

Jim turned that over in his head. "They're like Gol?"

"Well, they don't purge all emotions. But that's the human mindset. Vulcans, at least Vulcans today, believe in the purging of all emotions to achieve that pure bliss they call logic." Again, the wry shrug of eyebrows. "No doubt back in Pre-Reform times, they were purging other things..."

Jim let the brandy burn his throat. "Since when did YOU get to be such an expert on Vulcana?"

"Since never." McCoy shot back. "But I know aesthetics. I've got enough of 'em in the family." Abruptly, his mouth snapped shut and he made a show of pouring more drinks.

Of course, the conversation had halted there. Jim remembered best his vague feeling of jealousy that McCoy had known something of Spock's people that he hadn't. After all, hadn't he made a study of his First Officer, and tried to get to know him as much as possible?

It was also back in a time before Jim had taken too many things in account. McCoy's passing comment about family aesthetics was haunting now. Spock was pursuing the bliss of logic...Bones was pursuing Nirvana in the form of research. To all accounts he was growing shaggy and semi-isolated and building an altar in Fabrini medicine.

Spock...in Gol.

Gol.

He thought of the moments when warmth had shone through that severe, lean face. A smile without reservations. Bitter tears over his mother's turmoil as a human on Vulcan. The coldness of his father. Even his nervous worry of touching the infant Teer had been something to treasure, for all those moments had opened the lid in the chest and bared the soul inside.

Gol.

Jim leaned his head in the palms of his hands, and closed his eyes, wondering if he would feel better if he gave in to the pain.

~end of Marcy part~

Was it possible he had weakened Spock so much as to drive him to this?





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Calleum was the first to find his voice again.

"Sir - "

Kirk silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"Dismissed, Ensign." His eyes didn't waver away from Spock's for a second.

"Sir -"

"Dismissed!"

Calleum shot a last unsure gaze to Spock and then hastily retreated in direction to his quarters.

Perhaps Kirk would have disregarded Calleum's imputation, if it weren't for the blush of green on his friend's cheeks and the slight wavering in his gaze, and for the way his shoulders had tensed for a second.

"Can I come in?" Kirk asked.

"Of course, Captain," Spock replied and stepped to the side to let Kirk enter as first.

The door closed behind them with a overly loud hiss, as Kirk turned around to face his second-in-command.

"Why don't you tell me what I don't know," he said with a forced lightness that betrayed him more than any other reaction could have done. 'Maybe it's exactly what I want to hear since months,' he thought.

But Spock had regained his control again and still stood by the door, even straighter than usual. The former gentleness in his face was gone, and he clasped his hands in his back before he stated flatly: "There is nothing to inform you about, Captain."

A very Vulcan way to say 'piss off', Kirk thought, and might have laughed about it if it wasn't for the painful foreboding that now or never he would have the possibility to tell Spock his true feelings. Or was that only his imagination, and he would Spock chase away in the unnecessary hurry of this moment, where he should really wait for his time to come... tomorrow?... in a month?... at the end of their mission, where hurt feelings could at least not influence their working relationship any more?

But then, he could not envision to work without Spock at all. Either he had to give up his love forever, or he had to have the guts to talk with him openly. And in this case this moment was better than most.

"Why don't you try, Spock? Perhaps you will find that I also have some things in my mind that I never told you." His voice trembled slightly with his last words. He was feeling like a teenager on his first date - but this here was much more important than any other date in his life. His stomach begun to cringe as Spock's face turned even more closed than before.

"Mr. Calleum was obviously disturbed by today's events, otherwise he would not have tried to propose me, or made the statement that you are inclined to overinterpret right now."

Kirk frowned. "I knew what he said and that he was only guessing - but I am more interested in your reaction to it." He made a single step towards Spock, carefully closing in.

"I have no eidetic memory, but you said you doubt that I know it. I interpret this as affirmation of his statement."

Kirk held his breath for a second, waiting for Spock's vindication. But none was offered, and so he closed in once more, now only inches away from Spock's face. How often had they stood that near during official missions, body to body in defense or fight, face to face in whispered discussions - but now emotional tension hung between them, and the air in the cabin was suddenly thick enough to cut.

Spock still didn't retreat, which gave Kirk enough encouragement to raise his hand and touch the Vulcan's arm cautiously.

"Spock..." he started, and then stopped again, unsure what words to say in that voice that even to his own ears sounded like that of a stranger in its unsteadiness.

He looked into Spock's eyes, and suddenly there was that sparkle again he had thought to see in rare moments, but each time had dismissed as a product of his own vivid imagination - surely Spock would never look at him *that* way...

Spock raised his hand to Kirk's face, and tenderly touched his forehead. Energy seemed to flood over his fingers directly into Kirk's brain, where it dissolved into every nerve cell. A second later he hastily withdrew, and stepped back, eluding the human's touch.

"Jim," he said, "I cannot do this."

Kirk closed in again, cornering Spock next to the door.

"I see no reason why not," he said with an unsteady breath, and raised his own hand now to touch Spock's face, lightly brushing over his green lips.

"We both want it, I can feel it," Kirk whispered.

"It's against regulations, Captain," Spock said, trying to use the official guidelines as a last weak resort, but Kirk was much to determined now.

"Fuck regulations," Kirk replied, and drew nearer, pressing his body on the warm one of the Vulcan. Heat flooded in waves back and forth, and two heartbeats joined each other in their almost unhealthy increase.

"Fuck... " Kirk wanted to repeat, but couldn't restrain himself anymore after this word. He kissed Spock.

And Spock kissed him back, at first reluctantly and shyly, and then dedicated, opening his mouth to Jim's probing tongue. They tasted each other for a long time, before they finally parted to breathe again.

Spock closed his eyes and leant his head back.

"Oh Spock, I love you." Kirk whispered trembling, pressing his head on Spock's shoulder.

"Jim... I don't know what love is..." Spock said gently, and pulled his head forward again to meet Kirk's gaze, "but if it is the feeling that without you my life would miss a very important part, then I love you."

Kirk smiled. "I hope there is more to it," he said. "I burn for thee, my t'hy'la." His lust flooded over to Spock, who after a last short moment of hesitation replied with the traditional words that unlocked his own needs.

"As I burn for thee."

"Oh god, I dreamt of this so often," Kirk whispered breathlessly. "Let me touch you, please you, make love to you..." His hands traveled under Spock's shirt in his urgent need to get close to this wonderful man - his wonderful lover.

"Then I suggest we make ourselves more comfortable," Spock replied in his pragmatic way, and a small smile appeared on his lips, turning Kirk's knees instantly weak.

They got out of their clothes and into the seldom used bed, sharing a deep embrace while kissing each other once more. And then they made love like they had kissed, first tenderly, then fiercely, over and over again until the artificial ship morning set in and duty claimed them...

Ensign Calleum was not pleased to find the captain in the turbolift when he entered it the next morning. The memory of previous night's encounter made him blush, and he tried hard to avoid a gaze at Kirk after the necessary formal greeting. But obviously Kirk wanted to talk to him.

"At ease, Ensign," the Captain smiled, and Calleum's tension diminished slightly, only to raise again when Kirk pushed the "hold" button and the turbolift stopped in the middle of the shaft.

"Captain, I have to apologize..." Calleum started, but was once again interrupted by Kirk.

"Mr. Calleum, there's no need to apologize to me. In fact, you've almost done me a favor. But an apology to Mr. Spock would be appropriate." Kirk seemed to be in high spirits, and some pennies slowly dropped in Calleum's head.

"Very well, sir, thank you, sir. I will do that."

"And make sure to stick to apologizing only." Kirk added casually as he released the "hold" button.

"Aye aye, Captain!" Calleum replied sternly, and was glad to escape the lift on the next floor.

'Too bad,' Calleum thought sadly while he made his way to the Science Lab, wallowing in disappointment and self pity until the well-built Ensign Dary Maruda from the Security department crossed his way.

"That's our fifth encounter this week. I think we should celebrate this. What about a drink tonight, Patrick?" Maruda asked with a broad smile.

"Sure, Dary. Let's meet after the shift," Patrick replied. He entered the Lab with a last gaze on the firm ass of his evening date. Of course Dary didn't have the right ears, but then, poor little ensigns had to manage with lesser goals...

~end of Acidqueen part~

~The End~

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Kirk had one fervent wish right now: to avoid that meeting.

But, as always in his life, duty compelled him, even the duty of an empty desk job. He proceeded to the conference room. Admiral Tweedledum, Admiral Tweedledee. Gol! Spock was beyond his reach now, utterly gone. Turned into some remote, glacial .... An outpost had been destroyed, Beta Alpha Lambda something. Nearest ship responding, the Nautilus. Her first officer, Hikaru Sulu, served under you, didn't he, Jim? Jim? Oh, yes, of course. Fine officer. Sulu had sat before him on the bridge, and Spock behind him. Spock. Might have been the Orions that had attacked. Nautilus ... regular reports .... Spock reporting, Captain. Those eyes. Why hadn't he seen the longing in those eyes? Eons later, the meeting ended.

Kirk rushed back to his office and grabbed the two fifths of Rom ale under his desk. Bones had given them to him, for medicinal purposes. Time for some medicine! He took several hasty gulps, felt the burning in his throat followed by the surge of heat throughout his body, wiped his chin on his sleeve. Ah, that old Rom ale feeling! The wanderlust set in; he popped the lid back onto the bottle. Hid both bottles in a duffel bag and left. Told his secretary he would be gone all day and get rid of everybody. Maybe tomorrow too. Urgent business.

He headed for the flitter pool without thought, found one, jumped in, recovered the Rom ale from its hiding place. Took another long draught, felt the fading heat return along with the feeling that his whole body was charged, and the sense that everything was ssssllllllooooowwww. He had to move. Started the flitter, straight up. Better not be anyone above him, but so what if they were? He took some more ale. He needed action and now. Space bimbos, the redshirts used to say. Word got around quick on a starship. Captain and his space bimbos. Wonder how Spock feels about that? Ha ha ha. Who gives a shit now?

He found a bar. Sleazy dump, just how he liked 'em. Or he thought he liked sleazy dumps, but it might be the ale affecting him. Naaaah. Nausicaan music so loud he thought his head was going to explode. Drank some more ale to relieve the pressure on his skull. Stood by the bar.

A waitress or whatever came over; want a drink, Sailor? Bajoran. Nice ass and tits. No, I have a drink. He handed her a few credits and gave her his usual roguish look. But it was probably the credits that made her follow him.

Out of the bar. The silence made his head feel like it would explode. He drank some more ale to relieve the pressure. Gave a swig to girly too. Hey, he felt generous tonight! He grabbed her arm and shoved her into the flitter, jumped in, headed straight up, merged the wrong way into heavy traffic.

Buckled sheet metal and tiny glass shards were all that the police found after the accident. That and charred bones. Analysis found the remains to be those of Starfleet Admiral James T. Kirk and an unknown Bajoran female. Obviously, the bodies were too badly burned for toxicology tests. The spacetruck driver was not injured.

~end of J Juls part~

~The End~

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He held the breath for a few seconds. Exhaled. Drew another, a deep sigh. Exhaled. No, this simply would not do! Unsatisfactory indeed! He reached into the secret Jefferies tube access panel that he had cut into the back of his closet and withdrew his five-liter bottle of Deltan sex pheromone concentrate -- the giant economy size. He pulled down the front of his shirt and poured a generous amount on himself, and then did the same down the front of his trousers. Oooo, that stuff was *cold*! But worth it, for sure.

The effect was, as promised, almost immediate. He could feel his skin growing hot and feel his heart beating faster. And there was something else, hot and fast-growing, that he wanted to feel and beat also. He knew pretty soon it would be too late; he'd wind up in here masturbating for three days. He staggered to the commpanel.

:::Boop::: "Now hear this, now hear this. Sulu, Uhura, Scotty, McCoy, Chekov, Chapel, Rand, and Smep report to my quarters, on the double. Oh, yes, and Ensign Bambi. Kirk out." Huh! Who cared about Spock anyway? The Deltan pheromone concentrate had no effect on Vulcans in any case.

Kirk ran around his quarters splashing everything with the concentrate: his bunk, his couch, his floor, his toilet. Then he poured a bunch into all the air vents. Lastly, he set the bottle down and stood just out of sight of the doorway. "Computer. Set door to open automatically when the doorchime is pressed."

Moments later, Sulu appeared. "Captain, you said, 'on the double.' Is anything ... :::sniff::: ." Sulu's curious gaze found Kirk in the corner, lightly stroking himself, and became a leer. "Oh, Captain, I had always hoped!" He grabbed one of Kirk's antique weapons from its wall sconce and slit his own tunic and trousers open. He then did the same to Kirk. They stood facing each other, slowly peeling away each other's clothes.

The door opened again. "Dammit, Jim, I'm an old country doctor. I can't run that fast ... ." He took a breath. "Why, Jim, Sulu, you ol' sonsabitches! I never thought I'd get invited to anything like this!" He took a couple swigs of his mint julep before dropping it and running over to them, unsealing his trousers on the way.

"Why, Boner, I mean Bones, it looks as though you're all ready for what I had in mind!" Kirk said. He, Sulu, and McCoy formed a circle and all grabbed a penis in each hand to start a mind-blowing clusteryank.

The door opened again; it was Ensign Smep. Smep was an ugly-looking guy, kinda overweight and with lots of acne ... ewwww, even on his back, Kirk saw ... ewwwwwww, even on his butt cheeks! He was, however, from the planet Dilithia, which made him sorta greenish. And he had the exact same haircut as Spock. Plus ship's grapevine had it that he loved to eat shit.

Smep soon confirmed the rumor by running up behind Kirk and tossing his salad like there was no tomorrow! "Ooooo, ahhhhhhh," Kirk groaned. He felt some gas building up in his colon.

Just then, who would appear at the door but Chekov! He didn't really need to inhale any of the concentrate, but hey, it couldn't hurt. "Ah, Keptin, I had vondered vhy you vould wex me so by ewading my inwitation earlier." He shoved in between Sulu and McCoy, who were still jerking away, and kissed Kirk on the lips.

"Actually, Chekov ... ooo, ahhh ... I've always wanted to see you ... eat ... vegetables."

"Good! I have brought some wegetables vith me!" The prescient nawigator beamed as he showed Kirk a basket of produce. "Vould you like me to eat beets or cucumbers?"

Kirk put on his best stern-captain face. "You know, Mister, as Commander Spock would no doubt inform you at this time ... ooo, ahhhh ... " he really had to fart now, with Smep helping peristalsis along. He let one. "... cucumbers are actually a fruit, NOT a vegetable."

Smep interrupted him. "Ohhhh, Captain, speaking of vegetables, that was SCRUMPTIOUS! Did you eat rutabagas today? Ohhhhhh, rutabagas, my FAVORITE!" He went back to his ministrations.

"But, since I didn't invite Spock here, go ahead and eat the cucumbers, Ensign." Kirk ogled as Pavel slowly inserted the end of a cucumber into his young, pouting lips, inserting, removing, inserting, removing, extending his tongue to wrap around the tip. "Ooo! Ahhhh!" Kirk came all over Sulu's arm. Luckily, the concentrate made him get another hard-on right away while Bones licked the jiz off Sulu. Pretty soon they both came, too, and all three of them started licking each other clean while they still wanked each other. Chekov moved so he could share the cucumber with Sulu and McCoy. Then the door opened.

"Hello, Captain, I ... !" Chapel goggled at them all. "Well, I can't have Spock, but hey, this isn't bad!" She hurriedly began to disrobe.

While she was removing her bra, the door swished open again. "Cap'n, sir, me old bairns canna take the strrrrain frrrom rrrrunnin' so fast up ta yer quarrrrterrrs an' ... " He gasped to catch his breath. Suddenly, his face lit up in a beatific smile. "Ah, Cap'n, I always knew ye'd come around an' ferrrget abou' that old slab o' ice, Spock!"

Chapel ran over and tried to climb up Kirk to sit on his face. He had to lie on the floor, so Sulu, Chekov, and McCoy adjusted position, but Smep had to get up. "Oh, Captain! How could you?" Smep wailed. "I just know there's a big turd in there, all ready to come out!" And Kirk realized that there was! So he turned his butt sideways a little bit.

Meanwhile, Chapel had covered his face with mature, womanly muff. Kirk figured he didn't really like her that much, but at least now he had something that Spock was too stupid to take. Ha ha! And hey, she didn't taste too bad. At least she liked to shower regularly. "Ohhhh, Captain, I always *knew* you'd be the best!" she sighed, rubbing her nipples.

"Care for some bangers and mash, lassie? Or at least the banger?" Scotty stood with his bare feet to either side of Kirk's head, his cock directly in front of Chapel's mouth.

"Certainly! I *love* Scottish food!" She began to suck him eagerly. For his part, Kirk got an excellent view of his engineer's hairy thighs and scrotum. "Sm, thims ims whmt it's limke to lmmk ump ymr kilt, hmmmmm! I appromve!"

He heard the door swish open again. He could see four black go-go boots through the tangle of bodies. He momentarily freed his mouth. "Hello, Uhura. Long time no see, Rand. Say, have you ladies taken a good, deep breath lately?" He heard twin sighs.

"Yes, we have, sir," came Uhura's rich, sexy voice.

"Yes, Captain," squeaked Janice.

"Uhura, see whether you can find a position. Rand, I mainly wanted to wear your wig."

Chekov jumped up. "No! *I* vanted to vear her vig!" He threw the cucumber down and ran over to Janice, tangling his fingers in her blonde splendor. "Wixen! Giwe me your vig! I vill wanqvish you ewentually!"

"Eeek! Eeek! No! No! Mmmmmm! Mmmmmm! Ahhhhhhhh!" They fought until they apparently decided it would be better to rip off all their clothes and have sex. Except Janice left her go-go boots on.

Uhura, meanwhile, had gotten an idea that Kirk hadn't thought of. She went over to the gravity dial and turned it way down. Then she took her panties off and jumped up, sailing through the air until her crotch was pressed snugly against Scotty's mouth. Kirk went back to sucking Christine while he watched the black, shiny heels of Uhura's go-go boots digging into Scott's flanks. "Ow! Rrrrimde me, lmssie!" Everyone fucked this way for several minutes. Christine tensed, washing Kirk's mouth in delicious, salty girlcum. He paused to lick his chops.

Finally, the door opened again. Kirk didn't have to look. "Ensign Bambi! I said, 'on the double'!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Captain, sir! I forgot how to work the turbolifts, so I had to crawl all the way through the Jefferies tubes, and then I got a run in my nylons, so I had to crawl back, and then ... oh, an orgy! Good thing I brought my strap-on and lube!"

She bellied up behind Ensign Smep and, by the exclamations Kirk heard, entered him rather roughly. But the shock made Smep dig in his tongue a little bit farther, and ... "ooo, ahhhh," finally Kirk was able to unload that shit he'd been wanting to get rid of for two days. "Thank you, Ensign. I tried eating rutabagas and everything, but nothing worked."

"No, no, Captain," :::munch, slurp::: "thank YOU!" The taste must have made Smep come, because he squirted all over the carpet.

"I oughta hire you around Sickbay, boy!" McCoy laughed. Sulu laughed until they both came all over Kirk again. The sight of it made Scotty come, and the taste of *that* made Christine come again (plus when Scotty came he accidentally bit Uhura's clit, which was always her secret fantasy, so *she* came). Christine's cum made Jim come. Chekov and Rand came just from the smell of all the cum in the air.

"What about meeeeeeeeeee?" wailed Ensign Bambi.

"It's your fault for being late, Ensign," scolded Kirk.

~end of J Juls part~

~The End~

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He lay in bed, almost imagining he could hear Spock's deep, rhythmic breaths as he slept, the rhythm Kirk had committed to memory on a thousand away missions across the galaxy as the Vulcan slept deeply, almost silently had Kirk not been concentrating on the small, still sound. A sound that, regardless of his imagination he couldn't really hear onboard ship... though he had tried many times.

Kirk rolled onto his stomach with a groan of frustration. Normally he could quell the intense longing he felt in the pit of his stomach to touch Spock, to make love with him, simply to be with him. Which only served to remind him that he had forgone that opportunity earlier. And in his mind he heard that silky voice again, inviting... Rolling back over with an entirely different sort of moan, he reached down to grasp the persistent reminder of his want for Spock. As he gently smoothed pre-cum over his erection he told himself that it was the stress of the day, the closeness of almost confessing his love to Spock, then his stupidity in denying himself the opportunity. Which he could have perhaps have convinced himself were it not for the many other times he'd found himself in an identical position without the extenuating circumstances. More Human self-delusion.

He felt himself nearing release as his mind re-played dozens of intimate moments during which he had almost reached out to Spock, as well as a few dozen scenarios that he had conjured up in his own mind. Spock, between Kirk's legs, his back arched to receive Kirk's body into his. Kirk, lying on his back, pointed ears rising and falling between his legs. Tasting Spock. Hearing that beautiful voice cry out in climax....

Just as he reached his orgasm crying out "Spock!" A slight knock sounded on the door that separated the Captain's quarter's from the First Officer's, a door used so rarely and so intimately that the designers of the ship had felt no need to install the ordinary trappings of security, only the voice of the owner of the room to which access was being requested was needed for the door to open. Which it did. To admit Spock just in time to see Kirk's semen squirt onto the captain's belly.

~end of Mecca part~


As he waited before the door, Spock pondered the reason Kirk had visited his quarters earlier.

"Spock," Kirk panted cringing, half in shame, half in lust, and somehow Spock seemed to understand it right this time.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Obtaining access to Gol had been easier than he expected, and an acolyte had let him in promptly when he had knocked on the door of the main building. Not quite the cloister, or rather Trappist conclave, he had imagined during the journey there.

He was left alone in the reception area for a few minutes. The decoration in the interior surprised him. He had managed to find out a little about *kohlinahr* during the transport journey and the Byzantine, eclectic and excessive collection of statues, scrolls and carvings seemed inimical to the pursuit of perfect non-emotion.

Then again, Buddhists sometimes sought enlightenment in ornate temples as well. But Jim was a Westerner, dammit--to him, contemplation started between bare walls.

Jim stepped forward eagerly when Spock appeared in the doorway, said his name without thinking.

"Why are you here?" Jim stopped short. Spock's voice, Spock's eyes were utterly cold.

The former starship captain was caught for a moment, but only a moment, and then he was in full battlemode.

"Is there somewhere we could talk privately?" he asked politely, glancing at the acolyte who had first let him in, now standing to the side.

Spock said nothing, only started down the hall from which he had emerged. The acolyte tipped his head in Spock's direction; apparently, he was to follow.

Stone echoes followed them down the hall. He had not expected Spock to be so angry.

Finally they were in a cell. With bare walls. No crucifix, however. Kirk caught himself and faced Spock. No sense in delay. "Spock, I . . . I made a mistake. I said the wrong thing to you, because I was afraid--"

"How many times?" Spock cut in sharply.

"Spock?"

"How many times do you intend to change your mind? You have been toying with me. And I should have realized that--I knew, from the beginning. You're too flighty. You flirt, and tease, but never stick around. You said it yourself, once: 'an unequal relationship cannot last.'"

"Unequal? What are you talking about?"

"What do you think!" Spock had gone from mere irritation to vehemence. "I deluded myself because I--" He closed his eyes and shook his head, "I was infatuated with you, but to you this is simply a game, an interesting diversion to tide you over until you can find someone new to challenge you." His eyes were blazing. "I went along with everything you wanted but no longer. I had forgotten who I was. I am a Vulcan. If I had remembered that I would not have allowed you to deceive me."

"Spock--!" he pleaded desperately.

"And you have lied to me. Do you expect me to give in when you plead with me to return? I won't have it."

Kirk found himself short of breath. He turned away, slumped against the wall. So this was it?

He balled a fist against the wall. Could he walk away and let Spock go to his grave thinking he had just been playing with him, that he did not love him? No. He had never given up, never, and he wasn't about to give up now.

He turned around and spread his hands in front of him, plea and supplication. "Spock--please--listen to me. Let me . . . try to explain."

~end of Hypatia Kosh part~


"I've lost," he started then paused for a painful breath.

Spock stood rigid.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


But before opening the link to Spock that he had intended he called up his own logs, and started reading.

He read for hours on end, seeing what he hadn't really admitted to himself, seeing what Bones had been talking about. The words on the screen told him everything he'd tried to hide for so long.

He loved Spock. Every single word showed him this truth, as plainly as someone had spoken it aloud, and truth be told he had known for a long time.

"I love Spock," he said aloud.

His heartbeat sped up, and his palms began to sweat, but with the stubbornness that had saved his life so many times in the line of duty he kept saying it, over and over again.

"I love Spock. I love Spock. I want Spock. I want him ... in my bed. I love him like I've not loved anyone else before."

The words were forced out of him, pushed and he choked on them, and he still kept repeating them, again and again, until they left his lips without the anxiety, until the sweat on his palms began to dry, until his heart wasn't beating so wildly in his chest anymore.

"I love Spock."

This time it was whispered, and this time he meant it, this time it didn't... yes, it still frightened him, but this time he wouldn't let that stop him from saying them aloud to his first officer.

He clicked on the comm and the signals went through.

"Captain Kirk."

"Spock."

"What can I do for you, Captain?"

"I need to talk to you, but not like this, not on the comm. Would you.... mind if I came to Vulcan?"

"I do not see a reason for us to meet, Captain Kirk," Spock said, his voice distant and the dark gaze cold and shuttered.

"I made a mistake."

There was hesitation now, but only for a fleeting moment. "I fail to see what your mistakes might have to do with us meeting."

"Damnit Spock!"

*Calm down, calm down. Don't ruin this* Kirk said to himself and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

"I hadn't meant to say it this way, Spock but.... "

He swallowed and lifted his gaze to look at Spock.

"But, I love you."

There was no hesitation this time and it was worth saying it like this, saying it over the comm, without Spock near, just to see the light begin to shine on Spock's face.

"I really do love you, Spock," Kirk repeated. "And I'm willing to do what it takes to prove it to you. I'm sorry it took me so long."

"I do believe we need to speak with one another, Jim," Spock. "PLease come to Vulcan."

Jim nodded but the link was already cut.

His heart beating in his chest, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty, Kirk started to pack.

~end of kira-nerys part~


Cutting the link abruptly, Spock rose and turned from the comm station.

Kirk stepped off of the shuttle at the Shikahr Spaceport and looked around for a cab.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Was it possible he had weakened Spock so much as to drive him to this? Drive him to escape himself. That powerful mind wished for nothing but to be torn asunder from his own nature? Was that possible?

Kirk clenched his hands beneath his forehead. He had been trying to protect Spock from Kirk's own human inadequacy. He could handle the responsibility of four hundred Starfleet lives but he couldn't handle the responsibility of one half-breed Vulcan's love. It was too much, it was too rare a thing, and he was too ill-equiped.

But he had blown it anyway, he realized. He had mishandled the situation as badly as possible and wounded Spock with the very weapon Spock had just handed him. His eyes burned and he pressed his knuckles hard against them until he regained his composure.

He stood suddenly and walked to the closet. He dug his duffel out of the back of the shelf then went to his dresser and threw in his essentials. He felt more energized than he had in a very long time. Missions he could deal with--this was just one he happened to have assigned himself.

He wavered only when he requested leave in a message to command. So many responsibilities here. He pursed his lips and sent the message off. He'd worded the request so as to leave no doubt that denying it meant their golden boy would be extremely uncooperative and unhappy.

He was a stoic himself on the shuttle trip between Earth and Vulcan. The only seat he could get at boarding time was 3rd class. He stood, out of uniform, staring out the portals at the starscape, for most of the trip. His body language warned the other passengers away, for which is was grateful. He couldn't afford to lose his focus, even for a moment, or he might remember how his fear had brought it to this in the first place.

At the Vulcan Spaceport, the heat reminded him that he had better find out just what he was getting into trying to reach Spock. They wouldn't let him into Gol directly. He would have to cheat. He found a travel store catering to humans and bought a full array of survival gear which he had put into another duffel just in time for the intra-planet flight to Jaleyi where he could rent an air car with enough range to make it to the desert of Gol.

Kirk moved constantly, never giving himself a chance to think. He liked this mode, he realized, as he registered for the aircar. Even the extreme summer heat wasn't slowing him down. He felt invincible as he crossed the ramp to where the rental aircars stood waiting and threw in his two duffel bags.

He pulled up the maps and flew to the base of the mountain range and landed on a high plateau, maxing out the car's altitude. He stared out at the barren red vista for a long while as the sun grew lower in the sky and T'Kuht rose opposite it. Too close that planet looked. Kirk wondered that the mountains weren't just drawn up by its gravity to meet it in the sky.

He shook himself and ate a snack and drank lots of water. Time for a little cheating. He pulled out a tricorder and betting that the master's of Gol were not keen on technology, scanned for a signal in the desert below that looked less than full Vulcan.

~end of Dread Nought part~


Yes! He found it -- half-human, half-Vulcan. This was going to be too easy.

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TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Kirk stood, facing the new arrival. A million thoughts went through his mind in a flash, but he did not utter a word, for fear of saying too much in the presence of the Admiral.

Spock, on the other hand, nodded in acknowledgment of Kirk's presence, then turned his full attention to Nogura. Kirk's eyes lingered on Spock for a second longer, then he, too, put his mind on the task before them ... personal matters would have to wait for a more appropriate time.

Nogura ushered them into the adjacent conference room, where several other high-level Starfleet personnel were waiting. They were apparently the last to arrive. Taking the last two seats at the table, Kirk tried to focus on what was being said, and not the man sitting beside him.

****

The briefing was over; those assembled were dismissed and made their way to their assigned posts. But Kirk had no post to go to. His part in this crisis was over. Younger men and women -- those currently manning starships -- would be going after those responsible for this latest crisis. All Nogura wanted of him was advice.

Kirk was sick to death of offering advice ... he wanted to *do* something.

But there was nothing for him to do ...

... no ship for him to command ...

... nobody to obey his orders.

He left the conference room, completely oblivious to his surroundings, and made his way home. So lost in his own personal misery, he was unaware of the person who followed him out of that conference room ... perhaps the only person who could possibly understand what he was going through at that very moment.

Spock.

****

Kirk arrived at his door, turning slightly to look behind him before he opened it. He jumped when he saw the shadowy figure who had stopped just outside of the glow of the street lamp.

"Who's there?" he called out. He knew intellectually that the prudent thing to do in this situation was to get inside, but part of him wanted -- no, *needed* -- the danger of a confrontation with the unknown. Deep down, he was itching for a fight ... and if it couldn't be some unknown alien race who indiscriminately destroyed space stations, then it would be a common street thief who was unfortunate enough to follow him home.

He stood poised, ready for a frontal assault ... when the familiar voice called back, "Forgive me, Jim ... I did not intend to frighten you."

"Spock? What ...?" he asked with pent up anger in his voice, but could go no further. There were too many questions, and this was not the place to answer them. "Dammit," he said with great emotion, as he turned and opened his door ... leaving it open for Spock to follow, if he so desired.

~end of T'Lin part~


Spock followed, as he knew Kirk expected him to do.

Not daring to turn around, Jim strode brusquely across the room.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


"Hold STILL, dammit."

How many times had Bones given that impatient order? Whatever. Jim was tired of hearing it. He opted to obey for as long as his attention span would let him. It was crazy; his mind kept jumping around and refused to settle down. He thought he would lose his mind as well as his equilibrium.

Plainly irritated, McCoy finished spraying his face, then leaned back. "A one-minute job accomplished in only five." He decreed. "Not bad when you're the patient in question."

"I'm not interested, Bones." The words came out mechanically, without spirit or snap.

McCoy was probably full of more detox than the margins of safety permitted. His eyes were overly sharp as he settled down at Jim's desk. Chekov had been led off and away by the good doctor long before, and Jim had used his time alone to wallow deep in his ugliest emotions. The urge to run after Spock had been checked by two things:

1) the fact that McCoy had appeared out of nowhere, literally in the wake of Spock's departure, and invoked his no-nonsense CMO persona while he took care of things.

2) the fact that Spock had hit him and now the rules were all changed.

"Never rains but pours." The doctor confessed. "I was hoping this wouldn't happen...but its just been one of those weeks, it looks like." He nudged a fallen command shirt into the floor.

Jim rubbed his forehead. "I don't know how to explain what happened."

"You mean, Chekov disconsolate, you wearing a shiner, and Spock stalking down the hall lashing his tail?" McCoy shook his head, violently. "Look, I already convinced Chekov that what happened between you two was perfectly normal behavior under situations of extreme duress."

Jim felt shamefully relieved. "How did you manage that?"

"It's not a total lie, y'know." McCoy leaned back in his chair, letting his eyes close for a second. "Kinda like playing the lottery, I've noticed. Sometimes, you hit the jackpot on all potentially wrong situations."

"Well what I did WAS wrong! Forget fraternization, Bones! He's practically a kid!"

"Um, better not take that tactic with him. You know how often he HEARS that?" McCoy shook his head again. "Look, Chekov is a resolvable situation. Your biggest problem is to get him to believe that what happened doesn't decrease your respect for him as an officer of the Bridge. Believe me, that's the priority."

Jim didn't know what to say. Somehow, 'but will you respect me in the morning' didn't sound right.

"Pavel's been through a million whirlwind romances and ill-fated affairs. All he cares about is your regard for him." McCoy leveled a finger along with a blue glare. "So we can scratch that issue for now. On to Problem Number Two."

"Spock's not to blame for what happened." Jim spoke without thinking.

McCoy closed his eyes and shot a prayer upward. "We are not going into blame, ok? Before you shoulder all the guilt of the galaxy, Atlas, you ever stop to think about what happened last night between me and Spock?" At the vacuum-silent figure on the other side of the desk he nodded. "I thought so. You would have probably thought it out, only Chekov, with typically tragic Russian timing, distracted you."

Jim's head, already fragile, was beginning a slow throb. "Bones...all right. Just tell me why the two of you were gettting drunk last night."

"Deal. Jim, Spock is, whether he likes it or not, vulnerable to a group mindset. You've seen it in action when the amoeba killed the INTREPID."

"Yes, I know."

"Hear me out. When we were trapped in Sarpedion's Ice Age I saw firsthand that Spock's control isn't completely self-generated. It depends in good measure on the psychic presence of his race." McCoy let that hang for a moment. "Now, think about this. Spock is the ONLY Vulcan who has spent most of his life around humans. What's the chance that he wasn't as affected as we were by the LUNACY of last night?"

"But..."

"Well?"

Jim's mouth was open, and he finally shut it. "Spock got drunk with you," he said at last, "because he needed a shoulder to cry on? Like Chekov wanted to, uh, cry on my shoulder?"

"Too right."

Jim's face went red and hot. "Why didn't he talk to me if he was upset?" He protested. "He's my First Officer! I have a right to know when he needs to talk!"

"Well, maybe if you'd had a chess game scheduled for that night..."

Jim had always hated sarcasm. "Quit it, Bones! Are you telling me he's wanting to hide something from me?"

"Not so much as protect you." McCoy answered with stunning bluntness.

"Protect me? What would Spock need to unburden himself about that he wouldn't want me to know about?"

Again, Bones winged a prayer upward. "Jim...after the way he reacted when he found you with Chekov, do you really have to ask me that?"

McCoy's voice was gentle. The words were not.

~end of Marcy part~

Once he was standing in front of Spock's door, his courage almost left him.

Kirk turned away from the Doctor and frowned. No, he did not, really, have to ask.





























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


As he waited before the door, Spock pondered the reason Kirk had visited his quarters earlier. Had there been a malfunction of the ship? A problem with his department? If so, why had Kirk left so precipitously? No matter, he would find out now.

Spock heard Kirk say his name. He advanced through the door just in time to ascertain the circumstances of that utterance.

Oddly, he found a distasteful amount of pleasure in his mind at the sight. Indeed, now, as Kirk gaped at him, all was made clear; the puzzle pieces of logic assembled into the only possible solution.

Kirk had called Spock's name in the throes of passion, as only a Vulcan wife calls her husband's name. Logically, Spock could only conclude that Kirk *had* understood the full Vulcan meaning of the koon ut kalifee. *Had* understood the consequences of his trickery.

He spoke to Kirk without preamble, even as Kirk was still drying himself with a corner of crumpled sheet. "I didn't know that, as a human, you would be apprised of all the details of Vulcan culture. Perhaps I hastily extrapolated my estimate of human ignorance from my observations of Dr. McCoy." Kirk, oddly, seemed confused.

"What? Spock! I can explain. It's just that ... "

"You don't need to explain, since you have just done what only a Vulcan wife should do." Still, Kirk stared at him, dull human cant full on his face. Fine, it was time to play teacher to this balky student. "Logically, you knew that if, through trickery, the defeated opponent survives the koon ut kalifee, then said opponent automatically becomes the victor's property."

"What ... ?"

"And that, if the victor's wife is unable to fulfill her duties, the victor's property is required to serve. I find myself ... somewhat ... " he allowed a minor upturn of one corner of his mouth ... "flattered ... at your anticipation of and practice for such servitude."

"Servitude? Spock ... what ... ?" Ahhhh, yet again Kirk was pretending to human ignorance. His humility was almost charming. Spock continued.

"The act of Nap'Rot'Laf, of course. I admit, it has not been attempted since ages past, and then only in legend. I had labored under the misapprehension that you, as a human, were ignorant of this Vulcan tradition, so I did not hold you to your obligation. But, by your calling my name during the moment of Nug'voo-tad, you have shown your assent. I shall now claim my property."

***

Bewildered, Kirk could only stare as Spock's hand moved toward his face. "My mind to your mind," his silky voice droned, "My thoughts ... to your thoughts." His heart raced with fear, but also with an emotion he couldn't name. Lust was probably closest.

At first, Kirk felt nothing but the touch of Spock's hot skin to his own; then his surroundings evaporated. He was paralyzed by the cool order of Spock's mind.

He felt himself drawn into endless blue squares of logic, accelerated into freefall through the black depths of Spock's knowledge. Captain, I estimate the odds against us at three million to one. It had always seemed so easy, the way Spock had rattled those numbers off. But here, here were the necessary calculations to arrive at those casual numbers. Kirk had never before realized the true extent of his own species' ignorance. Human "intelligence" was infinitessimal next to that of a Vulcan. He was a blundering insect caught in Spock's alluring trap.

Far above, an inferno blazed, sending a few sparks showering around him; this, he somehow knew, was Spock's intellect. Something that he longed to sense, to be a part of. He tried to stop his freefall, to rise toward it.

Spock was having none of it, though; Jim could sense the duranium control holding him back as he struggled in the maze of logic squares; and he realized Spock was only toying with his inferior human mind, and -- lower senses told him -- his inferior human body. We are bonded, wife. Submit.

As the powerful intellect focused on him for a moment, Kirk at last learned the truth: that he was indeed only Spock's latest possession. But that was enough. In fact, it was all he had ever wanted. You don't want the Enterprise. I don't want the Enterprise. You don't want Starfleet. I don't want Starfleet. You don't want to seek out new life; I am enough. I don't want to seek out new life; you are enough. The orgasm rushed through him then, physical and mental. To accept one's fate is to free oneself for ultimate pleasure. You would do anything for it. I would do anything for it, for this oneness.

***

The next thing Jim knew, he was on a cargo freighter bound for Vulcan, his baggage consisting only of practical items -- broom, dustpan, mop, dishrags, pots and pans, butter churn, housedresses, aprons -- everything he'd need for his new life. He lived alone on Vulcan and loved it, his contentment buttressed by the occasional flaring of his mental link with Spock. His husband's one brief visit every seven years, intense, blinding, was more than enough to carry him through their times apart. When Earth was later frozen solid by a recalcitrant space probe, Kirk was only somewhat miffed.

~end of J Juls part~

~The End~

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Kirk sat paralyzed in front of the comm screen, numb to the core. His pupils, fixed and dilated, lay where they had fallen at Sarek's cataclysmic words. But now instead of the Vulcan's face they beheld only a flat, black silence. Gradually, he became aware of his reflection as it coalesced on the glossy screen, a phantom suspended against the darkness.

In dismay he realized that it was no longer anyone he recognized. A phrase he couldn't quite place flitted unbidden though his mind. 'I am become a name.'

The wisp of an image before him was but a ghost of the man he had expected. Where full cheeks should grin pink and gold, now hard furrows of care worried the corners of tight lips. The brow was creased in continual indecision. Even his hair had transmogrified itself in sympathy; where once brassy shocks arced so impudently, now muted curls meandered without direction to be cut short at the boundaries of Starfleet decorum.

And no matter how he looked, there was no shadow to be found.

His wrist comm beeped, jolting his gaze, dissipating whatever had been there. "Jim, where are you?" the muted voice pressed. It was Lori. "This could be your chance. You need to get up here now!"

Now. Always. Never again. No time. Never enough time.

He slapped the wrist unit harder than necessary. "Coming."

***

The doors to Fleet Admiral Nogura's office slid apart to admit Kirk to the meeting. Lori caught his eye as he worked his way across the room past the assembled knees and stripes. Ever striking, Lori was now positively aglow, bursting with the enthusiastic vibrancy that had once drawn him to her. It seemed like a decade since he had seen her smile like that--smile at him like that. Absently, Jim's face returned her look with a vestige of the smile she had once loved.

But why now? Surely not for him. Whatever passion had drawn them to each other's shelter had been euthanized long ago. Sadly, it had become but another collateral casualty of Jim's private war on the gentle assailant that had so stealthily conquered his heart.

Oh Lori, my poor sweet savior, so right and yet so wrong weren't you? Why did you have to force yourself in so close? Didn’t you know that mortals flying too near the sun always, in the end, get burned?

Seeing her as she was brought back a flood of memories from their year of stormy marriage: the fervent lovemaking; the tears, his and hers, shed and unshed; the power of shaping worlds together. Most of all it revived the soul-wrenching desolation of waking up curled about her, drying body fluids hopelessly intermingled, knowing that no matter how desperately he drove himself into her, he would nonetheless find himself still utterly, inexorably alone.

But through it all there was not one memory of a smile like that, not one. Not from either of them.

The room was packed. Kirk set course for the only vacant seat. This put him catty-corner to the timeworn cedar desk, beside the admiral's left ear, and in front of the great window to the stars. Given the choices of a view he would pick the stars.

No, the stars held too much pain, too much promise. But the promise was now for someone else, not for him. Best not to think, not to feel. He dropped his gaze.

On the polished ebony sill below lived Nogura's personal pride, an ancient Bonsai willow which had been tended though the centuries by generations of family before him. According to legend an ancestor about to evacuate his ruined home in Hiroshima had hastily plucked it from the family garden when it was but a seedling. In the dark aftermath of the bombing the symbolic little plant was nurtured as a microcosm of life that could not only survive, but flourish despite, or perhaps because of, the horrors endured.

And the tree did flourish, but not unaffected. For as the months and years marched on it was clear that the little sprout taken from the formal grove of cherry and larch would become neither of these but instead, inexplicably, a weeping willow.

In the midst of its graceful, sweeping lines, a single lead weight hung rough and homely off one errant, wired branch. Jim recalled the day he had asked about it.

The old man told of how the tree had been untended during his Andorian captivity thirteen years ago. Upon his return more than four years later he found a branch had grown unnipped and untrained, breaking the perfect balance sustained for over 400 years.

"Why not prune it off?" Kirk had casually tossed out.

"It is too late now. Pruning it would leave a scar marring the flow of life energy though the trunk. Once a branch has matured there are but two options: to leave it grow as it will and accept the new shape of the life taken on, or to wire and weight. To patiently coax the life back to the form of the gardener's conceit."

The admiral had made his choice and hung the ugly lead weight from the offending limb. Through the years he had restrung, relocated and refined the weight many times. And though it take nine years or 109 years, he would have the willow weep again in the just the form he had set for it. It said something about Nogura, about how he ran the fleet, his people. Kirk wasn't sure it was such a good thing.

The ear swiveled and became by a pair of dispassionate eyes. "Good morning, Jim. What you have missed is that Outpost 12 is lost to subspace contact and presumed destroyed. Eight hours ago they reported escalating subspace interference and energy damping. One hour ago they lost all communications except low energy telemetry. Data sent indicate they were approached by an 8.3-kilometer long neutronium object. A pure anti-proton beam was directed from object to outpost. Shortly afterwards they ceased all transmission. Attempts to raise them have all failed."

Impassive as ever, Nogura's eyes had settled on Jim. Unflickering, they never left him.

Old instincts coming online automatically, Kirk leaned forward tensely. "The planet crusher? Another planet crusher? If it crossed the intergalactic void and breached the rim near Outpost 12, then any straight course will send it through populated Federation space."

"That is our conclusion as well. While R&D has developed an unmanned energy delivery device based on the reports from Enterprise, the problem now is interception. Currently the fleet is deployed almost exclusively along the Klingon and Romulan borders. Assuming this automaton can also change course like the one of L374, no starship can reach the rim before the search area becomes prohibitively large."

Nogura's eyes stayed fixed on Kirk's face. Why, Kirk could not fathom. There was no challenge. No threat. No apology. As always, the face was as placid as his willow.

"One tentative solution lies in the scoutship Zephyr. She has been outfitted with the prototype transwarp drive and is in spacedock here awaiting the arrival of her command crew. It is this assembly's opinion that there is nothing to lose and much to be gained by sending an ad hoc crew out on her to locate and monitor the object."

Suddenly it all converged. A vision of his future rushed past his eyes and roared into his ears so violently that he almost missed the admiral's next words.

"It is also the position of this committee that a commander with knowledge of the L374 machine would be invaluable. While it is contrary to standard procedure to dispatch flag officers into front line conditions, it is also the majority opinion that given your demonstrated field abilities and the immediate risk to Federation citizens, the benefits of such a plan outweigh the risks.

"So then, what is your opinion, Jim?"

He was being set free! Sweet heaven, Nogura was giving him back the stars! Not trusting himself to speak, he took a calculating breath. Midway through it hit him somewhere deep inside his belly, and he froze. When had Nogura in truth *given* anything to anyone?

Time stood still and he felt his consciousness drawn up and away, as if swept up to a balcony to attend the stage play of his own life. He saw himself, Nogura, the collected brass, the tree, the stars. He watched the scene play out. He saw himself on a ship that was his but not his. He saw his Spartan quarters with the neat, narrow berth that would be his home--empty, of course. He saw a crew of the best, only Starfleet's finest, who never could, never would, live up to what he would look for them to be. And still he could see no shadow.

Someone had once said that time was like a river with currents, eddies, and, oh my, yes… backwash! Maybe it is not too late. Maybe what *is* need not continue to be. He stared down at the man he had become and at the graceful 400-year-old tree that had survived two world wars. If that tree were to shrivel and die tomorrow it would matter not at all, except to the tree itself.

And, perhaps, to the man who had cared for it.

The river flows, the tree grows and the starship commander knows with all the certainty he has ever had in his heart that that gray apparition is not, or at least need not be, him. Maybe he had been premature; maybe Nogura's methods weren't so iniquitous after all. Above all else, life matters. His life, the tree, the man in gray. Life must be set right. Events can be reversed; stray paths can, be corrected. Anything is possible if people will only care enough to take action. A rich bass rumbled up from the back of the room breaking the spell and sending him crashing down to his seat. It was Frank Stone, the same Stone who had once had him court-martialed, now Quartermaster General of the fleet. "Heihachiro, this sounds like a risky precedent. If flag officers can be assigned hazardous duty once on the basis of experience, why not repeatedly? Or even permanently?" But curiously, despite his words his tone didn't sound worried. Not at all. In fact, it sounded quite encouraging.

Kirk smiled inwardly. Funny how friends appear where you least expect them. Thanks, Frank. But first there was a job to be done.

Kirk lifted his head. "Will Decker."

Nogura could not have looked more stunned if James T. Kirk had grown wings, flapped out the window and laid an egg. "Decker?" he mimicked stupidly.

"Yes," Kirk continued as if nothing had happened, "Will Decker is your man. He has a personal interest in the device, has studied all the Enterprise logs extensively and interviewed all the key personnel involved. He has an understanding of the machine equal to my own."

"But no where near your experience with deep space," a voice countered from somewhere, maybe Lori. Kirk couldn't decide if it mattered.

"Then assign him as a mission specialist along with a more experienced captain. But Will is the man who should go."

Ah ha! Nogura's face composed as his universe reformed in its proper shape. It was again impassive, all but for a knowing gleam in the eye he aimed at Kirk. "Decker is currently overseeing the refit of Enterprise. If he weren't back by the time she is ready to launch, there would be a vacancy for her captain."

Now Kirk let the smile reach his face. "Yes, I suppose there would be."

"And, in that case, would you have a recommendation, for a replacement?"

The grin broadened, his lips twitched with the effort of restraining his relief. The ersatz Kirk receded and the spirit born anew this morning in blaze of epiphany roared to life. "Unfortunately, Heihachiro, I will be unable to oblige. I must regretfully inform you that I will be unavailable for these, or for any other commissions, for the time being. This will serve as my notice that I will be taking emergency family leave effective immediately."

As the bombshell fallout showered over the room, Kirk made his escape without a backward glance. He headed for the Quartermaster General's suite. Less than five minutes later Stone appeared.

"Frank, I need a favor."

***

Four days later found him about the merchant freighter Icarus under the able command of Captain Jerry Portman. Stone had outdone himself. Portman ran a clean ship with an easy, jovial air. Currently contracted by Starfleet for Earth/Vulcan supply runs, she was well appointed including a complex array of long range and high resolution scanners. Kirk noted the alert settings: not just for typical pirates and hostiles, but also for Federation patrol cruisers. Wryly he decided this spoke of a ship and crew not unaccustomed to a robust bending of rules.

Testing the theory, shortly after boarding Kirk had met privately with Portman to sketch out his plan. Reassuringly the captain had simply chuckled and replied, "Well, I guess we'd best have all ship's business done first, in case we find ourselves asked to leave…expeditiously."

The crew of 27 was all Terran with one exception, the first mate, Stynek. Kirk would come to find he was married to the pilot, a bright, saucy young woman from the Greek islands. At first this seemed a strange match, but as he worked with Stynek on transferring template and scanner data he had scavenged from Enterprise logs, it became less so. He came to find in Stynek a piercingly familiar curiosity that logically would attract the Vulcan to that which lay well beyond the expected.

In a short time he came to respect the officer not only for his intellect, but also for the amicable equanimity with which he handled the issues of the human crew. He in him saw a loosely restrained passion for all the wonders that life among the stars had to offer. It made Jim more than a little jealous.

As they laid in the final link between scanner and transporter template, Jim pondered the choices made by another Vulcan Captain's Mate he had known. The parallels were simply too compelling not to prey on his mind. Without quite realizing he had said it aloud he pondered, "Stynek, do you ever find it all too much? Do you ever wish to return to your homeworld for a time?"

As soon as the words were out her regretted the forwardness. He braced himself for the reply he was not at all sure he wanted to hear.

Unexpectedly, Stynek responded quite easily. "If you are referring to Vulcan, the answer is 'no'. However, I no longer consider Vulcan to be my home. While I honor the achievements of Vulcan society and civilization, I have come to find the limits of any one culture restrictive. It is an interesting paradox as it was the study of the Vulcan philosophy of Nome and the ideals of IDIC that lead me to the conclusion that I cannot be content to consider myself simply Vulcan. I am of Nome."

"But every man must have a place he calls 'home'," Kirk persisted.

"Indeed? Then I claim Terra, the homeworld of she-who-is-my-wife, custodian of all she holds dear. By extension it is then home to all I hold dear, and therefore my home as well."

"Can you really turn your back on all of Vulcan so easily?"

"I do not turn back on it, Admiral; I simply assert that the constructs of Vulcan are no longer necessary for my contentment, while those of my spouse are." Stynek continued his work smoothly, patently unaware of the effect his words had had on the human. When he looked up some minutes later he found Kirk leaning against a bulkhead, fist pressed hard against his forehead as if to counter some unseen force pressing critically from within.

"Admiral?" Stynek probed quietly.

Wrenched back to the present, Kirk willed his body to a relaxed posture, opened his eyes, and acknowledged the Vulcan.

"The template installation is complete," Stynek continued, unsure of how to deal with this particular human and his quirks. "It would help final preparations if I were to be privy to the specifics of its intended use."

Now Kirk relaxed for real as he contemplated taking action. With a grin he said, "Mr. Stynek, we are going to park in synchronous orbit over Gol and beam the person matching those readings from the compound to this ship."

"Without advance notice?"

The grin broadened. "Without advance notice."

The Vulcan inclined an eyebrow. "That should prove most intriguing."

***

Seven hours later, cargo transport completed, Kirk and Stynek made their way back to the transporter bay.

Nothing left to lose, Kirk stood very straight beside the console. "Energize."

The figure materialized kneeling on the platform with his back to the room. Robed in white, hair wild and unshorn, he rose slowly. His face was hard, cracked and dry as the land from whence he had come. By the time he had turned to face his abductor anything that may have shown, surprise, or, more likely, the total absence of surprise, was long gone.

Kirk took a hesitant step forward, hands parting wide in welcome entreaty. Oddly, his throat had somehow stopped working. More with his heart than his throat he managed to choke out, "Spock."

And then it happened. Admiral James T. Kirk who had with mere words catapulted computers to self-destruction, spewed peace over solar systems, unshackled the collective mind of races--Admiral James T. Kirk could not think of a single word to say next.

Not to the man to whom he had stolen his soul.

The thousand thoughts and dreams and wishes that had inundated his being for the past weeks warped through his mind. Not one could he catch with his tongue.

"I presume," the Vulcan intoned in a shockingly normal voice, "that you have some motive for bringing me here."

Kirk licked the dry corner of his dry mouth with an even drier tongue. How to convey the ineffable? What would the young captain have done?

With resolution, he moved onto the platform and grabbed the Vulcan by the shoulders, holding hard. Holding his eyes. Motive? The nightmare resurfaced and the driving purpose that had spurred him unawares for so long now announced itself in full voice.

”I came to get you back."

The Vulcan shook his head almost imperceptibly. "Sir, I cannot go with you."

Kirk recoiled in almost visceral pain, hands dropping by his sides as if burned. He turned to recompose his thoughts, stepped back for distance, for breath.

"Spock, you yourself said…."

"Sir, I made a serious error in logic at the time I last spoke with you. Had it gone unchecked, I could have destroyed both of us. I am now taking measures to ensure that that does not happen again."

Smarting from the rebuff Kirk collected himself to go on. Failure was not an option. "Logic? Spock, logic is determined by the circumstances. You are half human, therefore it is not illogical for you to have feelings."

"Sir, my concern is not with any feelings which I may or may not possess. Feelings are a given for most sentient beings. My concern is that the actions I have taken regarding them, and those I had proposed to take, were and are dangerously illogical. This cannot be permitted to go further."

"Spock, I have spoken with your father. I am aware that there are…complications. But I also know that this: that what we have become is quite simply wrong. Look at us! You were right two years ago and we have to change it before it is too late." Gathering steam he reached back out to the Vulcan. The human's eyes were full, so full, heedless of decorum, elemental need winning out over pride. "Spock, we can't let this go on either. I need you. I want you. I want you with me, always."

This time the Vulcan did shake his head gently as he stepped down from the platform, stopping only inches away. The long forgotten heat of Spock's body threatened to overwhelm the human where he stood. He fought for composure.

"Spock, " Jim struggled raggedly, "I am in the admiralty now. We can find a way. Together we will find a way."

Spock's plangent tones, too long absent, massaged his soul as they rolled over him, through him. "Admiral, do you not see?" Did he imagine it or did the voice hold a tinge of ruefulness? "Starfleet is open to all Federation citizens--citizens in good standing."

Kirk's jaw dropped, steadied, lifted. He had not seen. He shifted leaning against the console to use the chill of the metal to solidify his thoughts. He took a dilatory breath, but oh gods, such a breath it was!

The acrid scent of the desert suffused his nostrils. His body was permeated with Spock's masculine musk, so impossibly alien and so intimately familiar at the same time. Spock stood close, so close, too close. As the dulcet heat enclosed him Jim was certain he would suffocate where he stood in the enormous cargo transport bay. He couldn't think, didn't want to. He wanted only to live in this moment. He inhaled again and drank deeply filling a place in his heart that had been dry for too long, a place he was not sure he had even known was there. A little voice in the back of his head politely reminded him that his mouth would be expected to say something very soon.

He closed his eyes and once more breathed the intoxicant into himself, not really for courage, but finally giving in to his want, reveling in the luxury. With a calmness that surprised even him, he made the leap. "I have heard that there a few other things in the galaxy besides Starfleet."

Oh, and such a leap! A blind, glorious hurdle into the unknown! Was it only the lighting or was that a bead in the Vulcan's eye? He couldn’t tell. His own body was becoming clammy. The fusion of their essences was positively dizzying. He couldn't think, couldn't look, couldn't do anything but drown in the living presence of Spock.

Deliberately Spock reached down and folded Kirk's hand in his own. He closed the half-step distance between them. Jim was now effectively pinned between the transporter unit and Spock's pelvis, too lost to care. His left arm, pinched by the metal, came up to snake around Spock's waist, the hand resting on the robed hip. The Vulcan leaned over the human bringing his hot breath up to Kirk's ear. Kirk turned his face slowly bringing his lips closer and closer to the Vulcan's cheek. The smell, the heat, the weight of him, the sound of Spock's shallow breathing was agony itself. His lips only a hair's width from the Vulcan's sandblasted cheek, he turned himself further towards the alien lips.

Before he could seal the motion, Spock's fingers shifted. He brought their coupled hands in to lie against their nearly mated thighs. He unfurled his first two fingers and with excruciating slowness moved his warmth downward on Kirk's hand.

As if completing a circuit, the contact sent a bolt surging though to the core of Jim's being. He was seized by the force of it, body held in tetany. On some autonomic level he knew he should order his body to stay standing, to blink, or at least to breathe, however his mind was unwilling to spare any bit of itself for the task, unable to tear itself away from the glory cascading through it.

For with the touch of fingertips the full force of the spirit that was Spock had entered his mind and erupted spreading flood and fire through the human's soul. It permeated through the thoughts and years reaching every lonely corner, touching every long neglected part of him, stimulating inchoate feelings Jim had yet even to classify. The past two years were swiftly swept away. Whatever it was he had said that fateful night no longer mattered. Spock now knew the truth, the depth, the force, the perennity of Jim's unspoken truth--possibly more fully than Jim himself did.

The intimacy brought both blessed relief from the old grief and a new soul-searing pain --too close, too much, too deep too fast. The pressure in his chest, his heart, his soul was too great. If he didn't find a way to take a breath he would die. Just as the weight of the onslaught threatened to pummel him into unconsciousness, the flood slacked off to the lightest ripple. When he knew anything again he had no time to concentrate on the invasion; the pain was forgotten having transformed itself into pure, ingenuous wonder. For however improbably, there was now a reciprocal response from Spock.

Whatever he had believed Spock had meant to offer two years ago, it was certainly not this. Like the rich blossom of the hyacinth, the alien feeling bloomed out of the receding floodwaters. He saw not a volatile mix of the passions like his own, but the cool order of pure, decisive ideals. Waves of trust, devotion, respect, wardenship, camaraderie, and yes, love peaked and climaxed inside Kirk's mind. For this the Vulcan had abandoned family, home, honor, career. For this he would trade all that he held dear. As Jim tried and failed to assimilate the great gift he had been given, the feelings were very carefully restowed within the desert soul from whence they came.

In less than a heartbeat Kirk was again alone in his own mind, shaken and trembling, supported by, my god, Spock's arms! He tried to back away, to catch his breath but the friction of each movement against Spock's encompassing presence only made the turmoil worse.

Spock's warm hands moved up to steady him, holding him by the shoulders, quietly waiting, just as of old. Always waiting--by his side. Had anything really changed? Hadn't it, in truth, always been this way between them? "Spock, I do love you. Please come home."

"Jim," there was no mistaking the sadness now. "I cannot. We are what we are. Whatever home your body may find, your heart is only and always among the stars. Field command is the greatest part of your nature. It is what united us and what fuels your spirit that I love so well. To kill that would be to destroy what you are, and therefore, what we are."

Jim swallowed hard, fighting the conclusion while forced by his own sense of justice to acknowledge the ineluctable truth.

"Spock, there has to be another answer. What you say may be true, but my friend, look at us. What we have become is every bit as untenable. This can't be our final lot in life. We must not let it end this way."

A smile that was not a smile flitted across Spock's face for just an instant. "Perhaps, t'hy'la, but that which we are, we are. We must establish that individually before we can make a place together."

"Spock, I have spent five years doing just that and two more years assimilating what those first five meant. My friend, I am ready!"

"Possibly. But I am not. I must return to Gol."

He groped for ammunition for a last desperate foray. "Spock, completion at Gol means permanent isolation from the outside world. Forever."

"Yes."

"You can't possibly want that."

"It is irrelevant. The paradox there is that if one achieves the objective of the Kolinahr, any wants one has, or has had, thereby become nullified."

"And if one does not achieve the objective?"

"Then, Admiral, there are always…possibilities."

Spock's face was placid. No longer hard, simply still. He disengaged himself from his former captain and walked smoothly to the platform. He turned to meet Jim's eyes one last time. He raised his hand in the gesture of salute. "Live long and prosper, Admiral."

The hand began to fold, but instead of letting it drop to his side, he curled the last two fingers in and swept the air in a small, slow arc as if caressing something precious and unseen. Then it was over.

Spock looked directly at Stynek, acknowledging him for the first time. In the perfect tones of non-emotion he said, "Energize."

Stynek looked to Kirk standing immobile, eyes only for his friend. He slid his fingers across the controls. Spock shimmered in a golden glow and was gone.

The moment broken, Kirk weighed his options with ease. He shot onto the transporter platform and pivoted. "Mr. Stynek, beam me down to wherever he went."

Stynek looked over to him and said calmly. "I must obtain permission from my captain before acquiescing to that request."

Face set, Kirk snapped in the old command tone, "Your captain told you to assist me, so assist!"

"He also ordered me to safeguard the ship and manifest, including your person, sir. The denizens of Gol eschew intruders. The security system is archaic, but extremely efficient. I estimate your survival time inside the compound at less than three minutes."

Thinking back to the 'security' at Spock's koon-ut-kal-if-fee, he could well believe that.

"Then put me outside."

Stynek referred to the console and appeared to read a sensor. "Temperature at the compound gate is currently 147 degrees. Mean useful consciousness of an unprotected human would be 38 minutes. Chance of reaching target within that time approaches zero."

Kirk spread his palms in wordless entreaty to someone, anyone. Face steely he marched over to the front of the console and raised his hand as if to reach for the controls. Abruptly he stopped and stared at the seemingly impassive officer before him. On impulse he asked, "Stynek, what would you do?"

The reply came with unforeseen gentleness. "I would live. For where there is life there are always possibilities."

Kirk looked up, his face shifting. A wisp of a lambent smile played over his mouth, his eyes, his cheeks.

"Yes, it seems I have heard that somewhere before."

The comm interrupted. "Portman to transporter room. Are we done here?"

Stynek inclined an eyebrow in inquiry.

Kirk motioned his head in a quick, tight gesture that could have been a nod, could have been a shake. He squeezed his eyes and whispered so softly as to be almost indiscernible even to Vulcan ears, "If only I knew."

What does a man do when he doesn’t know what to do? Who can he trust beyond himself? There could be only one answer for that. He reached for the smoldering memory of the psychic kiss and rubbed it twice for reassurance--or was it twice for luck? Hell, Spock had been right before, why not now?

He squared his shoulders. Kaiidth. He would follow this path to wherever--to whomever--it led. And who knows, some work of noble note may yet be done, not unbecoming men who strove with gods.

With confidence borrowed from another, not quite able to muster it in himself, he spoke. "Mr. Stynek, please tell your captain to take us home."

~end of Lyrastar part~

~The End~

Author's notes on part V: Thanks to Greywolf for plucking the magnificent little Bonsai tree out from the rest of Carolyn Clowes wonderful writing. Some readers may recognize lines from a Tennyson piece scattered throughout this part. They are intended solely as allusions; in no way am I attempting to claim his phrases as my own. Those who recognize the source will doubtless understand.

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Jim staggered to his feet. How could he have done what he had just done? Kissed Spock -- Spock, of all people -- with the taste of Pavel's hot cum still on his greedy human tongue? And now Spock would never, never love him, never trust him again...

[Spock! My Th'y'la that could have been! I'm such a fool!]

He threw a towel around his waist and ran through the door, not knowing what he would do. Ahhhhh, but he did know after all. He raced to the nearest airlock and threw himself out.

~end of J Juls part~

~The End~

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"And now that you have?" Spock asked, coolly.

Kirk opened his eyes wide and pulled away so that he could see his first officer's face. "Spock? I thought you were asleep?"

"I was. You woke me."

"I'm sorry..."

"I also find sharing a damp bed with a human inconducive to sleep. I think I will return to the Physics laboratory."

The Vulcan vaulted over his captain and began to dress.

"Spock?"

"You may remain here, if you wish."

"Spock, what's changed, since last night?"

Spock paused in closing the seam on his tunic and looked over his shoulder at Kirk. "Biology."

"Biology?" Kirk exclaimed, sitting up and glaring.

"You will be aware..." Spock stopped and sighed. "You are aware, Captain, because I have told you myself, that Vulcans are required to mate once every seven years."

"So what was... last night?"

Spock raised an eyebrow, as if he'd rather hoped that Kirk might have made the next connecton for himself. "Biology. A form of pon farr induced by stress." He waited, and then continued, "If a community is, for example, under attack, impregnating the females hastens the replacement of casualties, and also prevents insemination by the enemy."

"So you were... ready to inseminate anyone who'd let you?"

"Yes."

"And... that included Lieutenant Uhura?" Kirk had been so wrapped up in his own desire for Spock, that he'd failed to put any interpretation at all on Nyota's presence in the Vulcan's cabin. Now, however, it acquired a very unpleasant significance, particularly when he remembered her unwillingness to offer any explanation. Spock had done all the talking.

"She came to inform me that a certain amount of spontaneous sexual activity was taking place around the ship. She felt that, as first officer, I should be aware of this, and ready to deal with any resulting awkwardness over the next few days."

"Why didn't you say so, instead of all that stuff about practising some concerto?"

"Because she also came to warn me that... that you might be similarly affected."

Kirk felt an unwelcome blush rise angrily into his face. "She..."

"She thought I might wish to... avoid you."

"And instead, you seduced me."

The Vulcan looked offended. "I... inseminated someone who was willing to allow it, as my constitution demanded during a period of stress, and high risk of mortality."

Kirk frowned mightily. "Why don't you get back to your Physics lab, Mister Spock?" He rolled over and tried to get comfortable on Spock's rock hard bunk. The Vulcan had a nerve, complaining that the bed was damp, when the main problem was that it took the skin off your knees and elbows every time you moved.

Spock finished dressing. He disappeared into his bathroom, and came out with his hair smoothed back into place. He walked over to the bunk. "Jim."

"What?"

"I am what I am. You cannot make me into something else."

"Damn right."

"Do you want sentimental displays? Tears? Tantrums?"

"Well..."

"Sulking and pouting? I respect Mister Chekov as an officer and a scientist, and I am sure he will give you all the histrionics you crave. His cabin is number..."

"I know where his damn cabin is!" Kirk took a breath. "And I could have had him tonight, if I'd wanted him..." The truth began to dawn.

Spock spelled it out for him. "But you came here. To me."

"Yes." Kirk coughed. That had come out a little sulkily. "I see what you mean. Do I want you for who you are, or because I think I can turn you into something else, or at least enjoy something else in private. Okay, message received."

Spock pulled his boots on and walked over to the door, but stopped and turned back. "Yesterday's events were extreme, Captain, but now that a response pattern has been established, I believe we may share the consequences of periods of lesser stress, if you are willing."

Kirk felt his eyes bug. "Spock..." The door shut, and the Vulcan was gone, with no more morning-after affection than a rutting tom.

He leaned back against the bulkhead and examined his feelings. Did he want Spock, or didn't he? And if the answer was yes, then just did he think he meant by 'Spock'?

Respect, honesty, and the most competent and physically impassioned 'inseminating' he'd ever experienced.

And next time, he'd make sure the insemination took place on his own mattress.

~end of Jane Skazki part~

~The End~

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Yes! He found it -- half-human, half-Vulcan. This was going to be too easy.

Kirk swung around to trace the direction of the unusual lifeform reading. It was about ten kilometers north, not at the center of Gol; but toward the edge, in a region called Toh-mar. Yes, he remembered. McCoy had told him that initiates sometimes ventured there for private meditation, as the masters of Gol always stayed in the central area.

But enough reminiscing. Kirk jumped into his speeder and made for the location of that reading.

***

Following the ever-strengthening signal, he soon found himself in an area dotted with caves. Sure enough, now that he was closer, he found that the signal was originating below Vulcan's surface. He would have to get out and walk, but he was determined to reach Spock, and he was ready. He landed and got out, shouldered his gear, and made for a likely-looking cave entrance.

The rock around the edge of this particular cave was worn smooth in places from the frequent passage of feet; only the one life reading registered now, however. As Kirk descended inward, ever-closer to his goal, he wondered whether any nearby mineral deposits might confuse his tricorder readings. He decided not; the cave wall appeared ordinary.

He dug around for a palm beacon as he made his way further into the cavern. So far, there had been no side branches wide enough to pass, only small cracks through which the ever-present desert wind sighed. Someday, they also would be wide tunnels, but not yet. Kirk daydreamed as he strode farther, the cave merging in his mind's eye with the mystical hooded figure of Spock. He and Spock would have many days to explore in caves like these, after he had told Spock what he needed to hear. Because he *would* tell him tonight, his true feelings. And then Spock would forgive him; he *had* to! And all Kirk needed to do was to go forward, toward the strengthening life sign before him, half-human and half-Vulcan, the yin and yang that could both heat and quench his love. Reality began to melt into fantasy. He felt close to his goal, close enough to reach out and touch Spock's hot skin, to slide his fingers through Spock's long, glossy, ebon hair, close enough to press his own torso to Spock's and to feel the delicious hardness as their ever-questing members touched each other, to taste Spock's seed as the Vulcan cried out in ecstasy -- words were on his lips now, words that he must say to Spock -- "I love you, Spock," he whispered, practicing. "Spock. I love you. I love you." The words formed a mantra as he increased his pace until he was jogging downward, ever downward, breathless in the thin air of the tunnel. "I love you. I love you." Kirk was speaking the words aloud now. He had to, or he would lose his nerve when he saw the one of his desire. He thought he could hear breathing and movement other than his own echoing in the dusty cave. The lifeform was only a few meters away now. He barreled around a corner in the tunnel and halted, pointing his flashlight toward the source of the lifeform reading. "Spock! I love ... "

Before him, hands and knees sunk into the rusty dirt of the cave floor, bound as one in the throes of lust, Sarek and Amanda were going at it doggy-style. They stopped short as their eyes met his: Amanda in shock, and Sarek -- well, as in shock as he could be. Kirk, stunned, could only look from them to his tricorder, to them, to his tricorder, to them ... maybe he stared a little too long at them ...

"Gol darn it!" Amanda swore, looking askance. "Try to get a little change of scenery, and what the blurt happens? Him again!" She turned around and started to button her robe. "I *told* you we should have left the tricorder running, Sarek! Buuuuut NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! 'It would be an illogical waste of electricity.' Well, heeee dee neeee dee neeee!"

Sarek stood and helped Amanda up. He brushed the dirt off his knees and started to button his own robe. "Once again your actions have been precipitous, illogical, and typically human, James T. Kirk. I suggest you leave our planet now, before you create a diplomatic incident."

Kirk was so embarrassed, he hightailed it right back to the Enterprise and never tried to contact Spock again.

~end of J Juls part~

~The End~

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Spock followed, as he knew Kirk expected him to do. He stood in the doorway, staring at the retreating back of the man he once loved. "Jim," he said quietly, but Kirk's raised hand stopped him from saying anything else.

"Don't, Spock," Kirk said, then turned to face his old friend. "I know I hurt you ... and for that, I'm sorry ..."

"There is no need to apologize," Spock interrupted. "I was out of line, and never should have told you of my feelings ... I will not burden you with them again." Spock paused. He contemplated leaving, but after a moment, stepped into the room, and closed the door.

When he had been called by the Admiral, he knew that he would come face to face with Kirk, and told himself that he could handle it ... but it was a confrontation he had been avoiding since he returned to Earth.

Even now, Spock was unsure if his reluctance stemmed from the unresolved sexual tension between them, or the fear that Kirk would be less than receptive to the news that he had found someone to share his life with ... that someone being McCoy. Regardless, it was time to take another leap of faith, and open up to this man once again.

"Jim, I must go ... but before I do, I wanted you to know that I have been, and always shall be, your friend." He paused to compose his thoughts, then continued, "You are correct that I was hurt by your refusal of my feelings, but I should not have been. Leonard warned me that you would be unable to accept me, but I did not listen to him ... and when I returned to my quarters after my confession to you, he was there to console me."

There was a look of surprise on Kirk's face, but he did not interrupt.

"As you know, I went to Vulcan for a time. I went to Gol, where I could meditate on all that transpired between you and I ... and Leonard and I." Spock stepped further into the room, then added, "I had intended to remain there for the rest of my life, unable to resolve the conflict that was in my heart ... until Leonard convinced me otherwise."

Kirk put two and two together, and realized that he had waited too long to face the reality of his own feelings. He had lost Spock to McCoy ... something that he would never have expected, yet it was ironically appropriate somehow. "I see."

"Do you?" Spock asked with a raised brow ... something in the tone of Kirk's voice seemed off, but whether it was due to a lack of understanding, or anger, or jealousy, Spock was unable to tell. Most likely it was a combination of all, but Spock would take him on his word, and accept his understanding.

"I must take my leave of you now, but I do hope we can get together some time, now that I am back on Earth. Leonard would love to see you, as well." Spock said, knowing that he could speak for McCoy in this instance. He handed Kirk a small card, saying, "We have just moved in and would be honored if you would be our first guest."

"I'll have to check my calendar," Kirk said, knowing full well that there were few social events in his future. "I'll call you," he said, as he stepped past Spock to open the door for his former First Officer.

Spock accepted this, as he stepped out the door. "Good night, Jim ... it was good seeing you again."

"Good night, Spock ... give my regards to Bones." He watched Spock walk down the hallway, and disappear around the corner. When Spock was no longer in sight, Kirk turned and closed the door behind him ... it would be difficult, but he would make a point of seeing Spock and McCoy next week.

Perhaps someday, he would be able to find the courage to tell them *both* of his feelings ... but until then, he hoped that they found the happiness with each other that neither of them had been able to find with him.

~end of T'Lin part~

~The End~

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Kirk turned away from the Doctor and frowned. No, he did not, really, have to ask.

"Know any good curses, Bones?" he asked finally, his eyes skipping along the floor and towards the locus of his recent troubles, the shower. The colorful curses that were coming to mind didn't quite seem to cover the situation at hand.

"Welp, Ah don't envy ya now, Jim," the doctor drawled, and added, helpfully, "You better set things straight with him or the whole ship will know about it."

"I know," Kirk replied tightly. He reflexively curled his right hand into a fist. This was not a confrontation he looked forward to with any pleasure. Spock was a proud man, and that blow he'd delivered to Kirk's face left little doubt as to how he viewed the situation. The captain set his shoulders and headed for the door.

"Jim," the doctor said, stopping him. "Regulations--"

"Striking a fellow officer?" Kirk supplied.

"Do you intend to--"

"No."

"Captain, those regs are intended for everyone--you can't just let him flout them again and again." McCoy searched Kirk's unyielding face. "It's rank favoritism--"

"I'll make that call, Doctor," the captain snapped, and was gone.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Kirk didn't have to travel far on this deck to reach Spock's quarters. He was not surprised, after over-riding the door panel and quickly surveying the cabin, to find that Spock was not there. Of course not. Kirk knew exactly where Spock retreated when he was wounded. In less than ten minutes the captain was in Science Lab 3.

A dark head bent over a laser apparatus at the back of the lab. Kirk knew only that it was used to study properties of complex fluids. Spock could have told him. Spock. Spock was here suffering the hurt Kirk had caused him. "Commander," the captain said softly and when the science officer turned to look at him he jerked his head towards the conference room. "I'd like a word with you."

Spock's face was a carefully schooled blank. So, Kirk thought, he's shutting me out. Spock stood, his hands behind his back, and stepped forward, stopping more than a meter away and laying into Kirk with the awful scrutiny of his hooded eyes. Kirk stood straighter and put his own hands behind his back. Spock seemed to accept this gesture and followed him out of the lab.

The door to the conference room slid shut behind them: they were alone. "I have given you cause--," Kirk started but before he could finish the statement Spock cut in with "Captain, I realize my actions this morning were a breach of regulation."

Kirk said nothing for a moment, reaching for his own reserves of control. There was nothing he disliked so much as being interrupted, particularly by his own officers, and he was terribly tempted to lose his temper with Spock right now. I won't lose control of this situation, Kirk swore to himself, there's too much at stake.

"I have given you cause to question your faith in me as captain," Kirk said, fairly gritting his teeth. "Have I not?"

Spock stood motionless for a long time; he seemed to be regarding the floor. "Captain, I have never known you to fraternize with the crew." The Vulcan took a breath, and added in a more even tone, "Would you care to explain?"

"I'm not sure I can. I certainly never made a conscious decision--you've got to understand that, Spock! I don't know, some sort of strange reaction to what happened yesterday--he was there, in my quarters--I swear to you I thought I had more sense--!"

"Do you intend for this situation to continue?" Spock appeared to be the very picture of a dispassionate observer. Perhaps it was easier for both of them that way.

"No," Kirk answered. "Bones . . . talked with him. And I will, later."

"I see."

"You must know I don't intend for this to ever happen again." Kirk met his first officer's unblinking gaze. "You don't trust me right now, and that troubles me a great deal. I want to make this up to you, any way I can."

Spock still did not respond. Kirk tried a more fertile topic. "What you did this morning--"

"A regrettable lapse of control--"

"Mister Spock--"

"Captain." There was an air of finality to his words. "I will accept any punishment you see fit to hand down."

"There won't be any be any punishment, Mr. Spock. What you did arose out of a personal dispute between the two of us. Isn't that right Commander?"

Spock bit his lip; a crack in the veneer. "Irrelevant."

"I don't think so."

"It is of no consequence now."

"You must think I'm flighty, inconstant, don't you, Spock?" he pressed on. "You're disappointed with me."

Spock looked down. "Yes."

"I am a human being, subject to stress . . . to making mistakes. I never said human beings were perfect."

Spock shook his head. "Neither are Vulcans, nor I."

Kirk put out his hand. "Can you forgive me?" Kirk watched as something softened in Spock's gaze. The latter took his hand gently, and the human felt his heart's warmth rise within him. "I don't always make it easy, do I, being friends with you?"

"It is no matter," Spock said kindly.

Could he hope to reach for what he wanted most, again? Kirk wondered. He would never have a better chance. "Spock . . . there's a way that . . . we could help each other stay on our best behavior."

There was light in Spock's eyes when he answered, "Is this not what we are doing now, Jim?"

Kirk smiled, bemused. "Spock, I'm human--I've got emotional needs . . . physical needs . . . which aren't being met."

"Undeniable," Spock pronounced sagely.

"And you, Mister Spock. Don't you have needs, as well?"

"A weakness which can be controlled."

Kirk squeezed his hand a little more tightly. "Does it have to be that way?"

Spock was gazing at him in a very open way so Kirk pressed his advantage and attempted to bring their lips together but at the last moment Spock turned his head so their cheeks were touching instead. "May I remind the Captain that we are both on duty," he said softly, and pulled back. Kirk had his hand and was not letting go, however.

"So noted, First Officer, but I want to settle this now."

"Impatient."

"Coy."

"We have still not settled the issue of what caused such unusual behavior around the ship over the last 12 hours, including your own."

"Forget it. I'm not willing to excuse myself that way--are you? Stress, a general feeling of dis-ease . . . McCoy said Chekov checked out completely. The mind of Man is given to strange delusions under extreme stress. We will have cause for concern if the symptoms persist throughout the day."

Spock released his hand from Kirk's grip, joining it to the other hand, behind his back. "Are those your orders then, Captain?"

"Yes, and clever way to change the subject. Now back to the topic at hand."

"I am not certain--"

"We can't carry on like this."

"I beg your pardon?"

"This . . . push-pull relationship we have. Isn't it time we sorted this out into something more stable?"

"And you propose we do this by . . ." Spock's both eyebrows were raised as he let the implication dangle.

"Precisely!" Kirk grinned, then sobered. "Unless you don't want to . . ."

"It is not a question of not wanting to, but rather--"

"Whether you have enough faith in me to take the risk." Kirk placed his right hand on Spock's warm left shoulder.

"I am not one to be toyed with," Spock warned.

"I know," Kirk said with quiet intensity.

"Then you must be prepared for a significant change in your life-style. This . . . relationship . . . will surely leave an indelible imprint on both of us."

Kirk closed in on Spock. "It already has." Kirk's face was so close to Spock's now, and it seemed the Vulcan was leaning towards him. "Jim," Spock breathed and their lips met.

Abruptly the Vulcan separated them. "As I have said, we are on duty."

"Tease," Kirk accused as he brushed past his science officer and out of the room.

"Tease?" Spock echoed, indignant, and as always trailing one step behind him. "You know well that I have given you no cause."

13.20 hours later . . .

The captain of the Enterprise balanced on his hands and knees on his own bed as his first officer rode him from above. Spock's skin was flushed green just as Kirk's was flushed pink, and they were both quite given over to sheer pleasure.

"You . . . seem to . . . enjoy this . . . position," Kirk observed between pants.

"I am merely putting you in your proper place," Spock said with his infuriating control, betraying no shortness of breath.

"Izzat . . . so?" Kirk said. He had been surprised by Spock's sexual assertiveness, but could not consider himself the least bit sorry. They had started off the evening with Spock sucking him off while they were both still in uniform. The thought made his knees weak even now. Eventually all their clothes had come off and they had progressed to full-blown sodomy, but not without a good deal of fun in-between.

Spock pushed him down flat on the bed, and tried again to slip a hand onto Kirk's face, and again the human batted it away. "Why do you resist?" Spock asked, his voice deep and rough.

"What makes you think . . . I don't want to fight you for it? Ohhh . . ." He wiggled his hips and Spock ground into him. The Vulcan slipped a hot hand under Kirk's body and massaged his testicles, weakening his resistance. "You are only prolonging the inevitable. I will have what I desire."

"Ha! Who wants anything . . . that's given awaaaaaaaay--Spock!"

"Give it to me," Spock growled.

Kirk giggled. "Make me!" This game had gone on for a while, and Spock had so far been perfectly content to go along with the tease.

Spock nuzzled the back of Kirk's neck, kissed behind his ears and nibbled each lobe in turn. Kirk arched his back at this delightful attention. Suddenly Spock pulled Kirk's hands over his head and his torso up. His back was pressed against Spock's chest, while his wrists were held securely in Spock's right hand. "You can'tmakeme!" Kirk blustered while Spock calmly slid his left hand over the meld points. Kirk felt his friend's head lean against his own, his human ear brushed by a hot Vulcan cheek.

"My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts . . . "

"Sssssssssspock!"

"Our minds are drawing closer, closer . . ."

Kirk's stomach turned over as if he were falling and he felt his consciousness spread out, and then merge with Spock's. It was so *physical* this time, he could feel Spock's nervous system and the cock up his ass, and then Spock pushing somewhere deeper . . . he stretched up . . . up. White shot through him and Spock was *inside* him, and then it was over and Spock's head was leaning against his heavily.

Before Kirk could really think about it, Spock let go of his arms and encased Kirk's cock with his fist, sliding up and down with a pistoning stroke. Spock almost seemed surprised when the human suddenly shot his load and let loose an ear-splitting whoop.

"Boy, Spock, you're good!" Kirk exclaimed, only slightly recovered.

"Indeed?" Spock countered, and then took a breath himself. "I could say the same of you."

They separated and Kirk turned around to capture his first officer in a lip-lock. He tasted the strange elixir made up from all the places their tongues had been that night--such delightful perversity, and shared. Things were definitely looking up from now on.

~end of Hypatia part~

~The End~

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Once he was standing in front of Spock's door, his courage almost left him. He'd humiliated his best friend, the only man he'd ever truly loved. He couldn't begin to imagine what Spock had felt when he'd seen him and Chekov together in the shower.

He rang the chime three times and was about to give up when the door slid open. Jim's breath caught in his throat; Spock looked as miserable as Jim felt.

"Spock, I..." He hesitated, not sure what to say to convince the proud Vulcan that he was the one he really loved and wanted to be with. He reached out a hand, but stopped before it touched Spock's face. "I don't know what to say."

Spock raised his eyebrow. "I think you do."

Jim gave a half-smile. "You're right, as usual. Spock, I'm sorry. For everything. But--but not for loving you."

Spock was the one to reach out his hand this time, taking Jim's hand in his own. "I think we need to talk."

Jim smiled. Perhaps everything would be all right after all.

~end of Cait N part~

~The End~

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Not sure you read everything? Download a zip file of all the A and B narratives. Someday, when this is all finished, there will be a zip file that includes all the C narratives. Someday... in the way far distant future. I only hope I live to see it. :) The files are in MS Word only (sorry) and in a zip file, so you'll need Aladdin or WinZip or some kind of decompression software to open it, both Aladdin (I know) and WinZip (I think) are available on the web if you do a google or whatever search.

Yours,

Karmen Ghia
December 2002
TOS HTRR inatiated in June 2002 and completed someday in the future.
































Cutting the link abruptly, Spock rose and turned from the comm station. He gathered the loose robe in closer to himself and maneuvered through the outer door into the clear Vulcan night. A pair of dark eyes followed him across the anteroom.

He walked evenly up the flagstone path to the towering stone piling in the center of sparse cactus garden. The air was heavy and uncharacteristically pungent tonight. The krevnarc cactus that pollinates only once a year had apparently come into season. The tender pink blossoms fluttered gently in the light breeze, releasing their aromatic seed into to the harsh vastness of the Vulcan desert. The sharp scent assaulted his nose forcibly reminding him both of the beauty that may be found in life, and the necessity of seizing precious opportunity when presented.

As he strove to return his pulse and respiration's to physiologic norms, a part of his mind attempted to argue that the unbecoming increase was due solely to the change in air quality. Unfortunately, as a logical being, the remainder of his mind instantly saw through the ploy, cutting off his last avenue of acquittal.

Turning his back on the little house, Spock climbed the rock pilling to sit resting against the tall central keystone that jutted up towards the heavens. The rough rock had already cooled in the long hours since sunset, drawing the heat away from his body through the curve of his back where they made contact. He allowed himself a moment of gratitude for the palliative effects of this temporary asylum.

With some difficulty he was able to lull himself into the first levels of meditation. The chill of the stone stemmed the burning discomfort rising within him and allowed him to focus his thoughts. Having attended to his own immediate needs, he widened his focus.

The sky was black and brilliant with stars. Although Sol was far too dim to be seen from Vulcan, Sirius and Rigel were both visible. Spock's mind easily interpolated the position of Sol. Gaze fixed on the spot where his soul-mate held his answers, he wondered inanely if Jim might, perchance, be doing the same. Even more irrationally, that thought brought him secret comfort.

"I love you." Words he had never thought to hear from his t'hy'la. Not in that way. Not for him. Not ever. But how casually humans, one particular human, used the word. Could Jim know what it would mean to a Vulcan? How ironic it was that humans labeled Vulcans as unemotional, and yet it is the Terran based Standard language that was utterly powerless to convey the depth and strength of the sentiments fueling a Vulcan bond. Jim's words had rekindled a gasping hope long since locked away in a heavily barricaded portion of the Vulcan's heart. But they also gave rise to an unaccustomed fear. To how many others had Jim said those words, and for how many reasons, some transient, some utilitarian, but so few, so very few, still in remembered. What was it he was offering? Would it be enough? And if not, would it be as much as he would ever have? Would it be better to have a piece of the man, or none at all?

With no compunction Spock unabashedly placed a proscription on any further contemplation. Vulcan was four days from Earth by standard warp shuttle. With an inward smile he realized that if he knew his captain, Jim would be here in less than three. He would know then soon enough. Soon enough and five years later than it should have been.

In any event, there would soon be decisions to be made. The constraints of family, Starfleet and Vulcan biology all played across his mind. Curious how they seemed so much less substantial than they had just two hours before. He would wait to know Jim's feelings, and then the next course of action should fall logically into place. The relentless honesty intrinsic to his nature would not let him delude himself otherwise. Whatever choices he would like to think he had, Spock's body and heart knew that his choice had been made long ago. Once before he had called upon all his training to turn from the siren call of Jim's spirit. He had nothing left with which to resist. As certainly as any law of planetary rotation he knew that once faced with that golden smile he would be drawn inexorably to the man and held far beyond his will or ability to break away. For better or for worse, he would eagerly, gratefully, take whatever Jim would give for as long as Jim would give it. He would have to make it be enough.

The unseen spot where he knew Jim's blue planet turned had now slid down past the horizon. The night air seemed colder than it had before. Rising stiffly, Spock rose and slid back down to the garden path. Having determined nothing, but decided everything, he headed back to the little house and the life that had been his.

He was not surprised to see a light still on in the study or the computer still in use. He was not surprised when the other Vulcan rose, switched of the terminal and followed him to the sleeping chamber. He was not surprised that the eyes watched him from the doorway with easy restraint, pointedly not asking the questions they held.

So very little to decide when it came down to basic truths. Spock looked up and met the face fully. "I am fully functional. My condition remains satisfactory. I would prefer to be left alone tonight."

"As you wish. I will return in 12 hours unless you request otherwise." Without any change in expression Spock's betrothed turned and quietly left the house.

~end of Lyrastar part~

The following three days were in keeping with her normal routine.
































Jim knew with absolute certainly that Spock was completely gone. Not just from his quarters for the night, but from his life forever.

Oh, Spock would stay on the ship for the rest of the voyage, but he would never allow the kind of intimacy between him and Kirk that had existed before. Kirk had abused that beyond measure.

He might have gotten away with Chekov in the shower- Spock had never questioned any of his liaisons before; Spock would probably have even overlooked the fact that Kirk was Chekov's superior officer.

He could perhaps even gotten away with the insult to Spock about being unaware of human sexuality. 'The concept that Spock would have to repeat any course is ludicrous' Jim thought a trifle hysterical.

But, to touch him after being informed not to; to....attack Spock like that...unthinkable. To forcibly kiss a touch telepath....

He ruined it all. Now, he would not only never have Spock as a lover, he had lost the Vulcan as a friend. Spock would leave. And he didn't know what it would take to call his friend to him again.

~end of Mecca part~

~The End~

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"I've lost," he started then paused for a painful breath. "I've lost everything that ever mattered." He paced once across the room. "The Enterprise was one half of me and you were the other." He just barely held his voice against wavering in sadness as he said this.

"You have come only for yourself," Spock stated harshly. "Selfish, as usual," he added and composed himself with an inward certainty that made Kirk's confidence slip dangerously.

Kirk looked over Spock in his dusty robe, hands typically behind his back now as though relaxed, but with a tension that Kirk wasn't accustomed to seeing. He looked tense not as though ready for action, but ready to snap.

You have come only for yourself. Kirk moved his eyes to the bare wall. He tried to find the truth in himself. He couldn't deny that he didn't want to be alone, but had this always just been about him?

"I read what I could find about the kohlinahr." He pulled his gaze back to Spock's dark eyes and managed to force some conviction into his voice, "You don't want to be more than this?" He saw the subtle shift in the muscles around Spock's eyes that indicated he had gotten through with that. "You always have been more than this," he continued factually, gently.

He dropped his gaze and turned away. "I'd do whatever you want if you'd come back. Maybe someday you will." To settle himself, he considered that this kohlinahr was probably not designed for a half-Vulcan and wouldn't be permanent.

He walked slowly to the door of the room and put his hand out to swing it open. He paused there, hoping Spock would move but he didn't. He pushed it open and exited as though heading to his own funeral.

At the aircar parked alone on the edge of the vast plateau he keyed the door to open with the chit from the rental agency. It trundled open--its mechanism old and abused by numerous careless drivers.

A profound sense of defeat laid itself upon him. What was he going to do? Return to Ellaye, to his empty house and job? Fly the aircar into a fittingly grand stone peak? He was abandoning Spock again to his self-imposed suffering he could go home and settle into his own well-deserved pain. He shook his head and reached for the handle to swing himself into the compartment. Something gripped his other arm, hard.

Kirk turned around in surprise. He hadn't heard anyone approach. Spock's eyes were as alien as he had ever seen them.

"Whatever I want?" he asked.

The grip on his arm sent a stabbing pain to his spine, but Kirk didn't flinch. Two acolytes had followed Spock out past the stone monoliths. Spock waved them away and they departed. Kirk held the defeat in his mind to keep hope at bay. "I am yours," Kirk stated. Spock's gaze held an answering lonliness to his own.

Kirk had started this and had to finish it. "Do with me what you will. Even order me to go-if that is what you really want." A tear slipped down his sand stained cheek, fueled partially by the pain in his arm.

Spock's grip shifted suddenly to a more comfortable one. Kirk nearly gasped with relief.

"I apologize-"

"It's all right. You aren't yourself when you get angry--I understand that."

Spock's shoulders fell. "I am truly trying to succeed at the kohlinahr. . ." He looked out across the sand toward the distant peaks. "I make progress. . . and then I revert to this overwhelming emotional state," he admitted, with some apparent relief at informing someone of his difficulty.

"I fear more than anything that you might eventually succeed," Kirk said sadly, causing Spock's eyes to come up suddenly to meet his. "I'm sorry if I've done this to you."

"You alone are not at fault. I allowed myself to be susceptible to you."

"Maybe I'm not used to that."

Spock still gripped Kirk's arm firmly. They gazed at each other in silence before Spock said, "We should get you out of the heat."

The notion of being cared for again by this being sent another tear clearing a path down Kirk's face. Spock nodded with his head to indicate the Kirk should get into the aircar.

"Go to my parent's house. I will meet you there when I have made my official departure from the temple."

Kirk sat back in the seat and fought back his fear. He wanted to insist that Spock come now. He wanted to make Spock promise, to tell him that he feared he would change his mind. But he had to be totally obedient in this and trust Spock absolutely. He nodded mutely and fired up the antigravs. Spock backed away and as he slid the cover closed, Kirk thought he saw a small smile of satisfaction on his face.

T'Kuht had not risen and it was pitch dark by the time he flew back to Shi Kahr. Kirk knocked at the large stone door. After a long pause, Amanda opened the door.

"Admiral Kirk, this is unexpected." She backed away to let him in. She looked him up and down and led him to Spock's old room. "You look very tired. We can talk in the morning." She started to close the door to the room and paused when Kirk asked, "The Ambassador?" "He is away tonight," she said.

Kirk nodded and she departed. He stared mindlessly at the back of the door. He'd been bursting with the desire to tell her that Spock had promised to leave Gol, but fear of being mistaken held him back.

In the morning he woke to the cradling scent of Spock subtle in the room. He rose with a tender ache and washed up before presenting himself in the main room of the house.

Amanda sat drinking tea from a steaming mug. She looked up at him as he entered. "You came to speak with Spock?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Kirk sat across from her. "I did speak with him yesterday."

She put her mug down suddenly. "That is unusual to be granted access to an acolyte of Gol."

"Is it?"

She thought a moment. "I have heard that access is only given to those they expect to fail, with the idea that it will induce the acolyte to leave."

Kirk gripped his hands together. "He said he would leave."

Amanda gave him such an expression of suppressed joy, Kirk couldn't help smiling at her. "I hope you are correct," she finally said.

"Will Sarek be displeased?"

She shook her head. "I do not think even he approved, though he could not say as much."

Amanda brought him some tea and they sat in silence until the door opened. They both looked up to see Spock enter. He looked impossibly gaunt in his simple robe. They both stood up to greet him. Spock looked at Kirk and the human bowed his head obediently.

"Jim, I do not require a slave. Just your emotional loyalty."

"Is that was this was about?" Amanda asked in shock.

"You have that, Spock," Kirk said. "Always."

"Perhaps I should leave you two alone. I have a meeting in an hour anyway. Welcome home, Spock," she said, touching his arm briefly and then turning away as if to hide her face.

After the door closed Kirk said, "Thank you."

Spock pursed his lips and shook his head in wonder. "I am starting to believe it was the correct decision." At Kirk's curious look he continued. "Nearly all of the turmoil. . . I have been suffering has simply faded away."

Kirk stepped up to him and hugged him, at first gently, and then fiercely.

~end of Dread Nought part~

~The End~

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Spock took a deep breath. He had been to Jim's quarters many times and many times had seen Jim without a shirt.

But now things were somehow subtly different.

For various, logical reasons, Spock had learned at a very early age to interpret carefully any situation he might be in. He had avoided several very touchy situations back at school on Vulcan this very way. He had also avoided any open conflicts with his father by his ability to sense his father's moods. And, while he was grateful for the ability to avoid these unpleasant scenes, he knew it had made him wary, suspicious.

Now his powerful interpretative powers were clearly telling him something. But what?

He looked at Jim.

Jim looked pleasant, reasonable, expectant.

"It's a strange night, Spock."

Spock opened his mouth and shut it again.

"Come and look at what I was doing on the computer."

Spock followed Jim over to his desk, all the time watching the remarkably beautiful curve of his back bury itself in the tight black pants before his body flared out again, a curious kind of cleavage, as it were.

"Look."

Spock looked at the viewscreen. It was a view of a skyscape, clearly Terran because the sky was a lush blue streaked with pink clouds.

"When I was a boy back in Iowa, I used to lie on the ground and watch the clouds go by. I could see shapes in them and I'd make up stories to go with the shapes." Jim smiled, half to himself. "Dragons, princesses, castles. Well, I just found a broadcast of Earth's cloud formations for . . . homesick Starfleet personnel." He smiled again.

"Sir, are you homesick?"

Jim sat down in front of the computer and put his hands behind his head. "No."

Spock felt a wave of warmth ride through him. He would have given anything to caress the golden curls under Jim's arms, to bury his face in Jim's strong fragrance.

"Pink clouds were my favorite. They seemed to be more productive of idle fantasies."

They looked at each other. Then Jim stood up and faced Spock. "Spock, have you heard of Pandora's box?"

The change of topic was so abrupt it made Spock's head swim. "Is that not an ancient . . . earth myth?" he said. "A woman opens a locked trunk, despite her husband's warnings, and releases all the evils that plagued mankind in those days."

"It's a . . . metaphor," Jim said.

"A metaphor."

Jim glanced away, his heated golden eyes seemingly focused on nothing. "Yes, for being curious. Too curious. Spock, there are certain questions a man can ask which will complete destroy the relationship between the asker and the person he asks."

"I see," Spock said doubtfully.

"Would you like a drink? Ale? Saurian brandy? Water?"

"Do you have tea?"

"Certainly."

And Jim poured two cups, one for Spock and one for himself.

Then they sat together on Jim's sofa.

Where Jim leaned back and put his hands behind his head again.

When he did that, his legs moved and one knee touched Spock's knee.

Spock did not move his knee.

Jim gazed at him enigmatically.

Then he moved so that his arm was touching Spock's.

Spock stood up.

And pulled his tunic off. Now he was wearing his regulation teeshirt. Then he sat back down.

A hair's-breadth away from Jim.

"That looks more comfortable," Jim said pleasantly and again leaned against Spock.

"What were you saying about Pandora's box, Jim?"

Jim smiled. "Human curiosity probably wouldn't make sense to a Vulcan. I imagine Vulcans use only logic to form their relationships with the world."

Spock did not feel logical sitting there beside Jim. He shot a surreptitious glance at Jim, at Jim's broad neck and curved mouth. And he moved a little closer to Jim.

He could feel Jim's blood pulse when he did that, he could smell Jim's smell.

Then Jim moved one arm from behind his head and put it on Spock's shoulders.

Spock breathed in.

And looked at Jim.

They were face to face.

Then Jim leaned over so that their foreheads were touching.

And smiled at Spock.

"I appreciate the comfort you apparently feel with me, Jim."

"Do you need to go?"

"No."

To Spock, the very air seemed alive with some sort of potential.

"I hope there are no more emergencies tonight," Jim said. "Listen, do you know what Chekov just did?"

Chekov? "No."

"He kissed me. Just leaned over and kissed me."

Spock had a sudden vivid mental picture of that, both small men, lush and full-lipped, and they were kissing. "Did it bother you, Jim?"

"Pavel is not the first person I'd want to kiss."

"Who would be the first person?"

Jim was silent, merely regarding Spock.

And Spock, against all rules of Vulcan, against all rules of Starfleet, leaned over and kissed Jim lightly. Jim's skin smelled soapy, clean.

Then he pulled back and looked at Jim.

Jim was smiling.

"Thank you, Spock. That was very pleasant."

"Did you want me to do that?"

"I only want you to do what you want to do."

"Jim," Spock started and then hesitated.

"Yes."

"I must confess that I have found you . . . " found Jim what? Arousing? Yes, there was that aspect to it, but more too. "Jim, I think of you often."

"And you're the finest first officer in Starfleet."

"Thank you."

And Jim leaned in and kissed Spock; then, without actually taking his lips away from Spock's, he whispered, "That kiss was very nice, Spock."

Spock swallowed. "Nicer than Chekov?"

Jim pulled back a couple of inches. "To put it mildly," he said and smiled and leaned back into the sofa.

Spock sat so he was facing Jim. Then he put one arm around Jim's shoulders and one arm around his waist. Their breathing seemed syncopated.

And Spock leaned in again and kissed Jim.

Jim very gently pushed his face towards Spock; Spock could feel the clean sweet tip of his tongue.

The kiss was a long one; Jim was putting his hand on Spock's waist and keeping his lips open and Spock had time to calculate every atom of superwarm blood that seemed to be floating through his bloodstream and he felt Jim's pulse too, the pulse of his lips, his hands.

"Would you like to take off your shirt, Spock?" Jim said. "But only if you want to."

Spock leaned back and said nothing; then he took his shirt off and embraced Jim again. This time they were flesh to flesh, Jim's smooth chest against the dark hair of Spock's pectoral muscles, his abdomen. It was strangely pleasant just to be that way, as if they were naked together.

Jim ran his hands up and down Spock's back. Then he lightly ran his fingers inside the waistband of Spock's pants.

Spock became very still.

"I'm sorry," Jim whispered. His eyes were half closed. "I don't know what happened to me. What did you want to talk about?"

"Do not stop," Spock said softly. "Please do not stop, Jim."

"But you wanted to talk about something." Jim's head lolled against the back of the sofa, against Spock's arm.

"I wanted. . . Jim, I wanted to see you. Jim." And Spock stopped.

Jim opened his eyes and looked at Spock.

"Yes?"

"And, to be frank, I had hoped that something like this might transpire."

"What . . . what about Uhura?"

"She knows."

"Knows? Knows what?"

Spock moved away. Then he took Jim's hand in his. Jim's hand so cool, his so warm.

"She knows I love you."

"Spock!"

"And what about Ensign Chekov?"

Jim smiled; he had a beautiful mouth, beautiful teeth. "I rank too high above him."

"You could give him a field promotion."

"Spock, I don't *want* Pavel Chekov. And I think you know it."

Spock said nothing; he leaned in again and kissed Jim who was now languid and resistless in his arms. So when Spock stood up and pulled off his pants and shoes and underbriefs, Jim merely sighed and moved his hands towards the front of his pants.

Then he deliberately looked at Spock as he ran his hand up and down, letting it linger in the solid scented warmth at the base of his body.

Spock's ears were roaring; he was more aroused than he had ever been and he was swollen, jutting out over Jim's body.

Jim lifted his eyebrows at Spock's prominence; he kept moving his hand over the front of his pants.

Spock could not move his eyes away from Jim's hand.

"Spock, I've always wanted this. I've always wanted to see you naked." He lowered his voice. "I've always especially wanted to see *that*."

"Jim, I. . . will you take off your trousers as well?"

"If this were Vulcan, we'd both be wearing robes, wouldn't we? All we would have to do would be to open the robes and there we'd be. At any time."

Spock swallowed. He had not moved.

"Say it, Spock." Jim's hand was still moving.

"I would like to see you naked, Jim."

Jim gave him a heated glance. Then he undid the button at the top of his pants.

He unzipped himself and then gasped as he kept stroking himself, himself thick and gleaming, completely visible to Spock in the socket of his own fist. And, sighing again, Jim moved up and took Spock into his mouth as he rubbed himself.

Spock seemed to enter a world of blue air and pink cloud; he was comfortable, almost drowsing in the warm ecstasy of Jim's soft mouth. And he slit his eyes at Jim and it was not pink and blue but gold now, as if some beautiful golden leaves were falling on himself and Jim and they belonged together, and he heard Jim say, "oh no" in a low rough whisper and he felt something damp against his naked thigh, and it was his turn to finish and Jim had put both hands, now damp, on Spock's slender hips and was relaxing himself to take all of Spock in, and Spock had never been happier, and he wrapped his arms around his body and then he found that he was falling against Jim even as he was saying "Jim, Jim, Jim."

Then there was a time of nothing but sensation, and, when Spock opened his eyes, they were there alone and Jim was smiling at him.

Jim's pants were still open, and he was softening, no longer strong against his thighs, but ripened and finished.

Spock sat down and kissed Jim.

He could taste every chemical moment of their ecstacy on Jim's lips. Then he spoke. "Jim, did you hear me when I said I love you?"

"Yes, Spock."

"Was I wrong to tell you that?"

"Yes."

Spock was stunned.

"Spock, you were wrong to tell me now. You should have told me months ago. Think of the time we've wasted."

Jim was serious, Spock could tell. Jim had wanted him, had taken him into his mouth, had wanted him before, had wanted him for months.

Just as Spock had wanted Jim.

And it was as if a door were opening, a door to something pink and blue and gold that Spock could visit and never be longing or lonely, and he reached out to Jim, and said the only thing he knew to say.

"Jim!"

~end of Sunbeam part~

~The End~

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Not daring to turn around, Jim strode brusquely across the room. With great misgivings he churned over some of what Spock might have to say to him. Why he come only now, only after the crisis had rudely forced the strained reunion in the meeting hall. He heard the front door slide shut behind him. He reached the far window; there was no further to go. Still anxious to get some measure of restraint over his protean emotions, he paused dilatorily and gazed through the predawn gloom at the rocky cliffs to the dark sea below.

The timeless cadence of the waves breaking over the rocks was mesmerizing. He wondered for how many eons they had been doing just that. Whatever came to pass, it wouldn't really matter--not in any significant sense. He would turn and Spock would be there, or not. Either way the waves would continue to roll in and the rocks would stand. He and all he knew would live and die and still the waves would roll and the rocks would stand. Once he had had the power to make a difference. Once he had shaped worlds, civilizations, lives. Once he had been truly a galactic leader. Once he had had Spock at his side.

Cursing himself for wasting even more time, Jim turned to face his old friend. Funny, he hadn't felt footsteps, hadn't heard breathing, hadn't seen movements or shadows and yet he knew, or should he say presumed, that Spock would be there. Squaring his shoulders Jim crossed the three paces and the three years that separated them.

For the first time in almost three years he looked at Spock, really looked at him taking in the whole imposing presence. The face was harder than he remembered but there was not a line of tension in the body. He stood at rest impassively observing his erstwhile captain. With a lurch of his stomach Jim wondered just how far Spock had pursued the goals of Gol. Had he been spared the sting of well-earned asperity only to lose Spock forever to the antiseptic catechism of total logic? For a moment he was convinced of it. And then he met the eyes.

How had he ever deceived himself for so long? And why? As he looked up at the man who had been the finest part of the greatest segment of his life, reality came crashing down upon him. For whatever it would mean to him, to them, he loved Spock with a ferocity that caught him unawares. How could he have believed that what he felt for this man was any less fundamental, any less valuable, or any less permanent than that for woman? Any less? Come to think of it, where were those women now? Certainly not here. Not for the first time Jim contemplated the irony of the Vulcan teaching the human to recognize love.

He reached forward and grasped the warm shoulders. With that simple contact the years, the pain, the loneliness, the doubt all fell away as if they had never been. He had been granted a mercy of a magnitude he did not deserve.

Jim heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like his own echoing in his ears giving rise to the words he could not seem to find for himself. "My god it's good to see you! I've missed you more than I thought possible." He realized that his face was leaking a ludicrous smile that would not be subdued. Maybe it didn't matter; he was seeing an answering look on Spock.

Not sure how much longer his legs planned to support him, he backed into a chair. He waved Spock into the one opposite. "Where have you been?" he opened, unable to quite keep the hurt out of his voice.

Spock considered his response. Logically he should be able to give the requested information in only a handful of words. But his relationship with this particular human had never had much to do with logic. Opting to speak to the unspoken question, he began. "After the conclusion of our mission, I found myself somewhat adrift. The path I would have chosen for myself was apparently to be closed to me. Not coincidentally, it also became clear that the career for which I had prepared myself no longer held any appeal. Concluding that failure of my emotional control was the source of my dilemma, I took steps to correct that inadequacy."

Jim winced visibly. So that was to be it. No remonstrance, no admonition, just simple acceptance of his foolish insensibility. Somehow that gift cut far deeper than any acerbity.

Seeming not to notice his discomfort, Spock continued. "There is a discipline of study on Vulcan directed toward the goal of total logic. It is the Kolinahr. Immediately upon leaving Terra, I entered it."

"Total logic--as in the elimination of all emotion?"

"Among other things, yes."

Disbelieving, Jim whispered, "You wanted that?"

"Given the choice among available contemporaneous options, yes."

Jim wondered what could drive any one even half-human to such drastic measures. With a sinking feeling, he decided he knew. "Was it difficult?"

Spock met his gaze levelly. For a moment Jim anticipated an echt answer. Then Spock cocked an eyebrow. "No more so than would be anticipated as the consequence of so many years among humans. In comparison to life amidst the maelstrom of human emotion, it was a veritable haven."

Hackles raised, Kirk considered pushing the issue. Looking at the hard lines worn deeply into his friend's lean face, he decided Spock was right; there is a time for everything and this was not the time for this particular communion.

Jim straightened abruptly overtaken by a sudden need to move. He paced stiffly behind the chairs, until he realized it wasn't going to help. Whatever he was trying to escape dogged his every step. He stopped with a rueful snort that might be an apology of sorts he laid hands on the back of Spock's chair. "And yet you left."

"Yes."

Jim waited, but no more was forthcoming. "Why?"

A long pause. Jim paced back to his chair, didn't sit. Eventually Spock looked up. "Admiral, even with Vulcan controls over mind and body, there are some personal characteristics that are immutable. After a time it became apparent that achieving state I had desired would not be merely difficult, but impossible. There would have been no logic in remaining thereafter."

All true, but the evasion gnawed at the Vulcan's conscience. Logic dictated that although as a non-telepath Jim would not be aware of the psionic flare he broadcast to reach Spock on Vulcan, as a partner in the joinder, he did have a right to be informed. In contrast, beneficence dictated that until the human was more attuned to his own katra, it would not be a kindness to burden him with the implications. Beneficence won the day, but perhaps not unassisted. Acolyte of Gol or not, Spock could not quite rid himself of the notion that some less noble factors had been involved.

More interested in the missing three weeks, Jim prodded impatiently, "Your father said that was a month ago."

"Indeed," Spock caught his eyebrows before they could betray his surprise. How had he so easily forgotten to expect the unexpected from this man? "I was unaware that my movements were being monitored." He rapidly considered the scenarios that might have led to Jim trying to locate him. All re-affirmed his decision to come.

A little voice whispered that it might be better to let this drop as well, but he couldn't. He had to know. "So I ask you again," he ventured softly, "where have you been?"

Spock answered coolly. "Seeing that my emotions were not to be exterminated, the next logical course was to endeavor to understand and to cultivate them to my benefit." Collecting more than a trace of the old tone he bantered, "To this end I sought out the one person whom I would judge to be the consummate expert at fostering the undiluted chaos of rampant emotionalism and tirelessly nurturing frank illogic in all aspects of daily living: Dr. McCoy. I have been with him since my arrival up until the summons this morning."

Kirk started. "So after all this time, when you did come back, you sought out...McCoy?" Spock inclined his head. "So...you didn't come back for me but for...?" OK, Jimboy, you deserved that. And more. Move on. So he did.

Regaining his intrinsic sense of justice he asked more evenly, "Yes... the summons. Nogura knew where to find you, but your location was not available through Federation or allied databases. I know; I looked. Did you contact him? Avoiding official channels? Avoiding me, Spock?"

"No. My presence here this morning was somewhat serendipitous. Dr. McCoy was conscripted for his knowledge of the bioweapons suspected of incapacitating station personnel. Hearing of the situation and having some special knowledge in that sphere, I volunteered my services."

"But still...neither you nor McCoy saw fit to inform me that you were on Earth?"

Jim's face still wore a pinched look, unabashedly radiating pain. Thinking he would have done anything, anything at all to change that, Spock assuaged, "Actually, Admiral, upon greater reflection, the term 'serendipitous' may not be entirely accurate. The good doctor was most insistent that I come in his stead this morning. He claimed indisposition due to a sudden gallbladder attack."

"Gallbladder?" Jim barked. "He had that removed last year!"

"Indeed?" It didn't sound much like a question. "In any event, I should advise you that the doctor was most vocal in his objection to that aspect of our arrangement. It was I who urgently invoked his discretion until I had achieved greater personal stability. I had informed no one else of my whereabouts; not even my parents."

"Why not?"

Spock shook his head, searching. "I simply did not know what to tell them. Until I saw you."

Jim's heart skipped a beat. Maybe two. "And now?"

"It is my intention to remain on Earth for a time. The specifics depend upon you, but regardless, it is clear that the most gratifying part of my life has been that spent in association with you. I would prolong that for as long as is feasible.

"I am, however, understandably curious to know your current state of mind," he appended.

"I'm ashamed," Kirk said flatly. "For all the exotic beings, cultures and mentalities I have encountered in my travels and accepted without hesitation, how could I so badly misconstrue that which is closest to me? How could I so badly misunderstand myself? How could I be so provincial? So wrong?" He looked at Spock candidly, nothing but wonder in his face. "Can you forgive me?"

Complaisantly Spock replied, "Jim, among other things Dr. McCoy made clear to me that half-Vulcans may not be the only persons uncertain as to how to incorporate personal feelings into a broader perspective." Gathering steam he continued in the manner of a lecture. "Have you considered that your confusion might be due to, and not in spite of, the exceptional mental flexibility of which you speak? Time and time again you haven given your mind over to foreign thought patterns, beings of great power, spores, alien influences which we cannot begin to understand. And yet you always return to yourself unscathed.

"You have enormous ego strength solidly grounded by an unshakable sense of self. You are ever constant in your perception of who you are, what you are, your guiding purpose, your ethos. That constancy serves as the keel that steers you back. I unsettled that identity badly. It is not unexpected that you would be disturbed by and resistant to such a suggestion. In fact, I should have anticipated it.

"I assure you that there is nothing to forgive. As you have been most patient with my journey to reconcile my dual natures, it is now my intention to wait as long as is necessary for you to do the same. And to assist you in that process--if you will allow it."

The absolution washed over him, all but foundering him with relief. "Permission granted, for that as well as a great number of other things," Kirk said with a grin, "but unnecessary. I do believe I have found my answers as well."

Jim twisted to perch on the arm of Spock's chair. Leaning in towards the Vulcan he asked silkily, "So, what now?" his face as dangerously open as Spock had ever seen.

Vacillation from this man? No, not likely. For whatever reason Jim Kirk was uncharacteristically handing Spock the alterative decision. Fascinating, but as some things can be changed and some cannot be, there are still others that should not be. Spock yielded to the nature of the universe, to the nature of his universe.

"Jim," he chastised gently, "I believe you have more than sufficient experience with this type of scenario. May I suggest you simply disregard those variables you regard as novel, and act considering only those with which you are comfortable."

Jim stood abruptly and crossed as if to leave the room.

"Jim?" Spock queried uncertainly.

He stopped at the doorway, turned and favored Spock with his best, slow come-hither smile. In one smooth gesture he pulled the uniform tunic over his head and tossed it through the doorway. "Well," he winked, "are you coming?" With that he crossed the threshold into the bedroom.

***

Spock reached the bed to find Kirk already under the covers, outlined in the gray light of imminent dawn. From the looks of the discarded clothing he had stripped bare with impressive alacrity. Spock began to follow suit.

"Slowly," Kirk whispered. "I want to watch."

Seeing no harm, albeit no logic, in the request, Spock complied. Facing the bed he removed the outer robe one fastening at a time, putting to rest the question of what Vulcans wore underneath. At least during a California winter. He pulled off the black thermal shirt, catching the close fitting neck slightly at his ears. When he freed his head it was to find Jim's attention riveted solidly to his chest. Moving to the bed, he sat down on the edge next to awaiting lover. Jim reached out one hand and ran it through the rough hair on the alien chest. Spock shivered at the touch. He swallowed convulsively as Jim's fingers found a nipple and squeezed, hard. The fingers moved up to a honed pectoral muscle and kneaded mercilessly. Spock found himself totally unprepared for the force of the desire surging though him. He battled for physiological control, not sure whether the feelings threatening to drown him sprang from his own long suppressed yearning or Jim's. Casting away the last remnants of the tenets of Gol he concluded it was irrelevant and gave into the waves of overwhelming pleasure.

"Spock, please hurry," came the naked plea from the bed. Only his long history of obedience to that voice gave Spock the strength to pull away and stand long enough to remove boots and leggings. The abject failure of his physiological control was immediately evident. He took a moment to appreciate the unaccustomed freedom of not having to concern himself with it.

The first rays of sunrise were angling in through the north window, bathing Kirk in hues of cool pink and gold. The rapidly climbing light danced though his hair, bounced lambently off the broad shoulders. Spock stood transfixed by the beauty he had seen and yet not seen for years. Jim pulled the sheet back in invitation. The ineffable view of the rest of the man's offering broke the spell. Spock climbed in wordlessly drawing himself up next to the warm vibrancy of Jim Kirk.

As the length of their bodies came together, naked skin pressed to naked skin, Spock froze, stiffened.

"Spock?" Jim asked, concerned. He pulled back a little, leaving warm arms around his friend.

"Nothing," Spock managed with some difficulty. His body began to relax marginally in the embrace. "I am merely finding the actuality of the experience to be somewhat more... intense than the intellectual construct."

Inanely relieved, the words fell unbidden from Jim's mouth jumbled together with rippling laughter. "Yes," he averred grinning stupidly, "I love you too."

Jim pulled the unresisting Vulcan in closer to him. The back part his mind made note of the strangeness of hard muscles enfolding harder ones, a mirroring turgid penis that confounded his efforts to settle into comfortable hollows, the familiar face and feel of his friend suddenly transposed into lover. But he couldn't spare much thought for these trivialities. He was simply entranced by his lover.

He ran his fingers slowly over the Vulcan's corded shoulder, delighting in the shiver of muscles, the flush of skin, the rhythmic curling of fingers. He studied the Vulcan's face as he continued his relentless caresses. The intoxication escalated with each new response from the Vulcan. The spasmodic movements of the throat, the tremor in the arched neck, the sensual parting of the dry lips unleashed a heady rush of power that utterly boggled his mind. This great man, a veritable a bastion of strength and intellect, was rendered helpless by his merest touch. Just the thought brought a warning contraction to his balls. He clamped it down to continue his explorations.

No longer gentle, he grazed over the Vulcan's collarbone mouthing, licking and biting across and down the woolly chest. Spock writhed underneath him in blissful capitulation to the overwhelming stimuli of Jim's body and mind made reckless by their desperation for him. He reached up to cup Jim's ass in his hands eliciting a strangled moan from one or the other of them. He wasn't sure which. Mindlessly Jim ground his pelvis against the Vulcan's hot stomach, driven inexorably by the rhythm of the fingertips flickering against his anus. Feeling his orgasm threatening too soon, much too soon Jim threw himself backwards and grabbed his obstinate dick, hard.

When he thought could trust himself to open his eyes he saw his friend and lover smiling over him mixed in chiaroscuro with the bright full morning light. Focusing on the serenity in that face, Jim attempted to settle himself with pathetically mixed results. Tearing his eyes away to safer neutral territory he noted a change had settled over the room. The night was behind; a new day had dawned. He supposed he would never ask, but somehow he didn't think the poetry was lost on Spock either.

"Is there a problem, Admiral?" Spock inquired politely, pulling him out of his reverie.

"Jim," Kirk blurted testily. "We're in bed, Spock, for pity's sake, call me Jim!"

The distraction seemed to have worked. His balls relaxed infinitesimally to a tolerable level. He grinned. "It's just that I seem to be surprising myself this morning."

"Yes, this does seem to be the day for the unexpected. But I wonder, is it your intention to continue?"

"Arrummph!" Jim grabbed the Vulcan forcibly pulling him into a hard open-mouthed kiss, which did nothing to help the rekindled misery in his crotch. His pelvis again began circling mechanically against his friend, his need for release growing with each rising cycle. The fulsome prowess expended on faceless fawning women was nothing in comparison with this incredible transcendental high: having this amazing man here solely for his gratification. Taking an equal power to his own and having it bow to his will. He could never get enough of this. Never. Then he realized his mistake.

Without warning Spock moved. Effortlessly he threw the startled human back again and inserted himself firmly between the pale thighs. Pinning Jim's hips securely to the mattress, he began drawing burning lips over the smooth torso. Kirk started to fight his way up. Every movement just accentuated the teasing torture of his penis as it twitched and jerked against the Vulcan's neck. In short order he declared defeat and concentrated solely on being bathed in pleasure.

Spock moved down the sweaty skin nuzzling his nose softly in the curling copper hairs below the belly. In alarm Jim struggled to a half-sit, passion instantly replaced by unexpected horror. "Spock, no! You don't have to do that. It's...demeaning."

Spock looked up from his cradle and smiled contentedly with his eyes. With a calm that bordered on absurd under the circumstances he answered, "I confess, I have very little understanding of the concepts behind human sexual mores. Nonetheless, I assure you, only one of us is currently in a position to be compelled to respond beyond his ability to control, and that is not I. I see nothing demeaning about that from my position."

With that Spock lowered his head. Jim felt a roar of hot, moist breath enclosing his penis. He thought he would go insane if he couldn't move into it. He bucked wildly against the mattress desperate to replace the ethereal breath with the tight feel of the body from which it came. He raggedly choked out his lover's name and was rewarded by the sweet strength of a too hot mouth sheathing him, a rough tongue swirling round him. He had no time to cherish the relief, for with each thrust the agony building within him grew greater, not less. He gripped the Vulcan's head struggling in vain to force his leaking dick further inside. Spock would not be swayed.

"Goddamit, let me fuck you!" Kirk screamed out frantically, but that small release proved too much; it pushed him straight over the precipice. Prostate and balls contracting as if they would turn him inside out, he came violently spurting into the Vulcan's mouth.

Eventually the room reformed around him. With wonder Jim looked down to where the familiar cheek rested on his stomach. He gestured helplessly for Spock who slid willingly up to eye level. Jim regarded the face: long, hard angular, never beautiful. And yet Jim thought he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Was it just the reverberation of the inhumanly rapid heart resting on his belly, or was he trembling? Putting behind anything he had thought he had known about his own sexuality, Jim bent forward to kiss his love. Slowly, reverently, Admiral James T. Kirk licked and kissed every drop of his own semen out of another man's mouth.

Mission accomplished, Jim fell back into the pillows, pulling Spock on top of him. "Spock," Jim chuckled, "that was unbelievable." He added with a rueful sigh, "but I did want to make love to you."

"Is that not what you have been doing?" Spock asked curiously.

"Um, well," Jim hesitated, donning his best faux innocent expression, "I meant a bit more...actively."

"Ah. If you are using a euphemism for vaginal/penile or anal/penile intercourse, I believe that will have to wait for a time. At least, that is my understanding of the dynamics of the human male refractory period. However, I believe the converse should be possible."

Jim's eyes widened to their absolute limit. "You mean...?"

Spock pressed his erection lightly against Jim's hip in confirmation.

Groping for words anywhere in the vacuum of his whirling mind, Jim found none. Oh my, this certainly was a day for the unexpected. Resigned, he fell back on pragmatism. He reached into a cubbyhole of the headboard and extracted a very dusty tube. "More is always better," he instructed lugubriously, passing the tube.

Rolling onto his side, Jim willed himself to relax. He would trust Spock with anything, his ship, his crew, his command. He could certainly trust him here. Easier said than done, he noted wistfully as his sphincter winked hard at the touch of a gelled finger. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn he'd heard a laugh.

Jim closed his eyes and gave himself over to the feel of the long fingers stroking his neck, his chest, his stomach, his thigh. His otiose penis jumped a little in tentative interest, not quite reaching some critical mass. Sighing Jim turned to receive the hard sex that was, farcically, his lover's, not his.

Reaching out with his tongue and down with his hands he took the Vulcan's mouth with the first and his genitals with the other. He concentrated on the exquisite sensations in them and not on the probing finger invading his anus.

He couldn't quite stifle a gasp as the finger entered and homed in on his prostate, knuckle stretching the sphincter while the pad massaged the gland. Amazed at the strength of the stimulation, he had to admit that bedding brainy scientist types had distinct advantages. He had to stop himself from biting down on Spock's lip when the second finger entered. Any qualms long forgotten, Jim squirmed shamelessly between the hand in his ass and the dick pressing into his belly. He felt a pillow being slid down behind him, but couldn't quite grasp its significance. Then he felt himself being rolled over on to it.

The withdrawal of the demanding fingers was a new kind of agony in itself. The emptiness left to him was far worse than ceding any fatuous ideas he had had about potency and manhood. If he could have used his voice he would have pleaded to be put out of his torment. Then he froze. The void had been replaced by a warm, round presence waiting patiently at the threshold. Jim squeezed his cheeks, furiously trying to capture it, draw it within. Gasping wide-eyed he made himself focus on the surreal sight of the Vulcan looming over him. Spock knelt poised, sweating, breathing hard, but waiting in abeyance. Here on the far side of 40, James 'Tomcat' Kirk was about to lose his virginity to another man, to his closest friend. And ironically it felt more natural, more real, and more right than any other coupling he could remember. Funny, at this moment he could not for the life of him recall a single reason he had had for turning this man away. Not that it mattered. The past was done; the future awaited.

Spock hovered still waiting for confirmation of the permission that had long since been bestowed. "Oh, yes!" Kirk exhaled and gave himself over completely.

Cognizant of the initial precious pain, the Vulcan stroked at first slowly, carefully. As Jim began rocking underneath him he increased the vigor accordingly. In seemingly no time he was slamming his full length into the human as hard as he dared, holding back his own climax in hopes of once more seeing the ineffable vision of his captain's face hopelessly lost in that mysterious quintessential paroxysm.

"Yes, now! Yes, now," Jim cried repeatedly, beyond caring, beyond sore, almost numb with the incredible friction. He grabbed his own now rock-hard dick and began pumping frantically, sweating, rigid, so close but yet unable to get quite close enough. "Yes, now! Yes, now! Oh, Spock, yes, now, now, now!"

The door chimed again. Kirk's arm flung out reflexively and slapped the intercom. "Who?" he croaked, not quite able to assimilate his surroundings. He blinked through the darkness, brain reeling for orientation. He was in his own bed; he was at home. No, he was in his quarters--the shakedown cruise. He was home.

"Science officer Spock," came the reply.

"Come," he managed, signaling the lights. He swung one foot off the bed and began to stand. Groaning at the throbbing ache that had become his groin, he thought the better of it and remained seated. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and made a futile attempt to smooth his tousled hair.

Spock had crossed the anteroom and stood before him neatly dressed in full uniform, hands locked behind his back. "Is there a problem?" Kirk asked absently, still trying to quell the oneiric images that seemed far more probable than this current dichotomous interaction.

Spock tipped an eyebrow, considering. "Admiral, so far 464 problems have been identified in ship's systems, none in critical areas. 73 have been corrected; crews are actively working on 107 others. It is anticipated that all but 8 will be up to specifications before return to spacedock."

He took a step forward to stand knee to knee with the human looking up at him. An expression that could be described in no other way than a smile warmed his face as he extended a hand downward to take Jim's softly in his own for the second time that day. "However, that is not what I came to discuss."

Ship's night, Starship Enterprise. Kirk was no longer running.

~end of Lyrastar part~

~The End~

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Spock stood rigid. He thought, 'Please, t'hy'la, just talk. Then I can pretend to listen and again turn you away. You will come to believe the Vulcan in me could never accept you and you will return to your life and forget me.' He forced himself behind his icy shields, trying to show only emptiness in his eyes as his heart strained toward Jim.

Jim's hands dropped to his sides. "Explain, talk," he said. "Even in Standard, we make mistakes. We misunderstand. My Vulcan is not adequate..."

Spock's right shoulder just quivered as he suppressed a snort. 'Human intuition - even now he already knows.'

Unaware of his instant of hesitation, Jim plunged on. "Your grasp of my Amglish is perfect, Spock, but my grasp isn't. I can't risk saying this wrong. This is too important for mere words." He stepped forward. "Meld with me, Spock. You'll see why I'm afraid, why I've hurt you." The hazel eyes shone, "You'll see why I can't go on without you, my friend."

The monolith went nova. "I am NOT your friend," rage seethed from Spock in a palpable wave. And, in the next instant, was gone. "How did you feel when Edith Keeler died?" Spock's voice had become tired, almost ragged at the edges.

Jim could feel him pulling away, shutting out any emotion or contact. 'This can't be happening now - we were so close. I was so sure', he tried to marshal his thoughts. "Spock, you know I was devastated by Edith's death. She was so warm and beautiful, smart and kind. I wanted to be with her more than anyone I'd ever known." Jim closed his eyes, suppressing a shudder at the grief that could still tear at him. "But, Spock, that's past and I've accepted it. It can't affect what we..."

"Enough! We are not talking about 'we'; you are telling me how you felt." The Vulcan facade shattered again and just as quickly rebuilt even stronger and icier. "Now, Jim, how did you feel when Rayna died?" Cold as space, Spock was pulling away faster than galaxies hurtling to the edges of the universe.

"Rayna?” Jim furrowed his brow. "I loved Rayna, but she's gone. She died on Flynt's planet."

"And what did you feel?" Almost a whisper, almost a moan.

Jim stepped back, eyes casting back and forth as if the answer was a spider darting across the wall behind Spock's back. "Stars, Spock!! I don't feel anything!", as he probed the blank, grey spot in his soul. "What did you do?!" Confusion and anger were fighting to the surface and Jim knew that fear wasn't far behind.

"Come", Spock spun out the door and down the corridor so fast that Jim had to trot to keep up with those long, somehow desperate strides. Around through a maze of twists and turns they came up to a lighter, busier area. There was no one about, but it felt more like private apartments than the cold meditation cells.

"T'hara," Spock spat as he entered a room. An older Vulcan male was sitting by the window. He never moved as Spock stormed inside. Jim waited by the doorway, hesitant to be party to Spock's invasion of this obvious home.

A tall, spare woman of an age with Spock came from an inner room. After years of Vulcan watching, Jim recognized surprise and then shame as she saw Spock was not alone.

"Tell him", Spock no longer raged but demanded in the icy manner Jim feared would become all too familiar. "Tell the Admiral what happened." Spock pointed at the man seated by the window. He hadn't moved, hadn't budged. Jim wondered if he was deaf or just simple. Maybe this was Vulcan's answer to a mental hospital here at Gol.

"Sakar, what do you need?" she asked in a tired, bitter voice.

Sakar remained staring out the window, seeing nothing. "I thirst,' came a voice rusty from disuse. There was a carafe and a glass on the table at his elbow, but Sakar didn't move.

"Sakar, take a drink", a listless command from T'hara. Sakar turned and poured a glass of water, drank, and sat there holding the empty glass. And again he didn't move, he barely blinked.

Jim looked from T'hara to Spock and waited for the explanation.

She took the glass from Sakar, "Sit comfortably, husband." He resumed the previous posture, looking out the window, to no purpose, Jim realized. T'hara sat across from them. "I never completed my training. I would not submit during Sakar's pon faar." She looked away. "Physically, I could not fight him and so I took his will. I have yet to learn how to return it." She stood and faced Jim, "Leave."

They returned to Spock's cell, Jim wondering if she'd meant leave the room, leave Gol or just leave Spock. "OK, Spock,” Jim assumed his captain's stance, feet apart, chin raised, hands on hips. "You never finished your training. You took something from my mind." In a softer voice Jim raised one hand toward Spock, "but you did it to help me. You took pain and guilt away from me. I know you did it for love, my brother, my friend."

Jim couldn't recognize the low rumble that started deep in Spock's chest. Was it like thunder, or the hoofbeats of a marauding horde, or something more ominous, much worse? Jim paled. It was much worse: Spock was laughing.

"Love?" he could hardly sputter between the bellows now. Spock was holding his sides, bending back and forth, but there was no joy in that sound. If a human could laugh in agony, that’s how it would sound. Wiping tears from his eyes, "This will be the end, Jim. My shields are gone. If I were a true Vulcan, I'd be insane by now. But my human half has saved me for this one last revelation. And then, Jim, you will be gone."

Spock grabbed Jim by the front of his shirt and held up against the wall. Eyes wild, hair disheveled, hot breath against his cheek, "Do you know what I did with your grief and pain?" The hoarse whisper forced Jim to turn his head away. The Spock he knew had never hurt him, but who was this half-Vulcan now?

Dropping Jim to the floor, Spock caught his chin in one hand and stroked Jim’s face with the other, barely grazing the meld points. "McCoy said you should forget. I thought only to dampen your pain and let you get back to command status. But when I saw the depths of your torment and guilt, the exquisite edge to all that pain, I could not destroy it." Spock released him and turned to the wall. "I took it within myself. And I used it."

Jim could hear that was not a positive sense of 'use', not utilitarian, not productive. He knew he didn't want to know this and heard himself ask, "How?"

Spock slowly faced him, his face as alive with emotion as Jim had ever wanted to see it. But not this way. Not wry, and bitter, and molten. "You don't know the Vulcan word, Jim. It's not used in polite company. The closest equivalent in Standard or Amglish is masturbation." Looking down, he slumped back against the wall as if there was no other support for him and would not be ever again. "I can call up exactly how you felt watching her die. Each falter and tremble tore a piece from your heart. You tried send your vitality across to her. If you could have forced your blood from your fingertips, you would have infused her with your own life. Grief that her unique flower was gone forever from this universe; it was a black hole that sucked everything from your soul. You were alone and would never see a light like hers again." Spock raised his head and sought Jim's eyes. "The shards of that loss ripped through any shielding I ever thought I had. I was thrown naked into a star. I was consumed by the miasma." A cold, cold smile formed on those lips. "But that wasn't the best part. Oh no, my dear Jim, only you could give me the best part."

Jim shuddered at the orgy of emotion roiling back at him. "Best part? How is anything the best in this horror?"

"Your singular perspective on your role as captain of the Enterprise," Spock licked his lips like he was savoring Centauri chocolate. "The guilt." It was a moan from those newly wet lips. Spock quivered, closing his eyes and arching his head back. It should have been orgasm to make him look like this, but, no, this was worse. "You forced her to choose between you, her lover, and her father, her creator, her god! You forced her to yearn for the dashing, human starship commander who would show her the galaxy and take her from her planetary prison with Flint. You made her choose between the two men most important to her and when she couldn't choose, you made her choose death." Spock gripped his head in his hands as he turned against the wall, rubbing his body on the stones as is he could not get enough sensation.

"I didn't kill her," Jim shouted as he ran and grabbed Spock's shoulder, shaking him hard. "I didn't kill her!"

At the touch of his hand, the writhing stopped. As his hands dropped back to his sides and he straightened, the ice was back, the shields were up. "But you felt that you did. The paroxysms of guilt are the holiest religious ecstasies, the little death of orgasm, the implosion of all sensation."

"Spock, you can complete your training. You could give me that emotion back."

"It's never been accomplished. You will never have this piece of your soul again. T'hara's mate will never have a voluntary act again. And besides, I will not return this. In the dry, dusty katra of my Vulcan being, I now have a flame that warms me. It was not mine. I could never create it. But I have it now. And whenever I wish I can experience it fresh and new and devastating as a sword across my eyes. You will go now because I know there are thousands of feelings like this in your human soul. I hunger for all of them. Pain, grief, guilt - you may think you'd be happy without them. But I can also take your pride at getting into Starfleet Academy, your comfort from your mother's kiss, your pleasure with your first woman, or your joy when you found I could try to love you in the human way." Spock went to the door and held it open. "This is why you will go back to your life without me." Only darkness, emptiness in those black, black eyes. "I would devour you."

~end of Karen 1 of 7 part~

Jim took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. The more he thought about what Spock had said, what he was dismissing, the angrier he got.

Jim Kirk couldn't say when he left Gol.
































"Spock," Kirk panted cringing, half in shame, half in lust, and somehow Spock seemed to understand it right this time. Instead of leaving, he closed the door and came near, towering over his Captain who trembled in the aftermath of orgasm.

"You called my name," Spock stated, a sparkle in his eyes.

"Pure - coincidence," Kirk muttered with a wry smile, still fighting for breath.

"Of course," the Vulcan replied flatly, and for a moment Kirk feared that he had taken him seriously, but then his gaze got caught by the growing bulge of his friend. He cautiously raised his hand to touch the fabric, and the incredible happened - Spock didn't withdraw, but gave in to his touch.

"Spock," he gasped and sat up, ignoring the fluids that poured down his abdomen. He looked up and met the intense gaze of the dark eyes, and the desire he could see in the usually stoic featured rendered him speechlessly.

Spock raised his hand to his face and caressed his cheek for a moment, examining his reactions thoroughly. And then the Vulcan's ling fingers gripped his hair and slowly pulled him forward, till he slid from the bed down to his knees just in front of his dream man. *Oh my god... *

"Open my trousers," Spock whispered, the voice so well-known in its sound, yet so alien in what it said now.

With trembling hands Kirk fingered through the fabric of the soft pants, awkwardly clumsily opening the fly, and finally he freed what was hidden behind. The slightly curved, erected penis was shimmering green against his hands, as he started to caress it. This was even better than his fantasies, and he felt his own arousal building up again. Their heartbeats increased in unison, as Spock wordlessly conducted him to use his mouth on his member. Sucking and licking he worked around the shaft, while his hands massaged the base of it, and the balls, and stroke the soft skin of the inner thighs. He felt the shiver that ran through the body, and heard the soft moan that escaped the Vulcan's lips and that was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. Pursuing his assault he took the penis into his mouth as deep as possible, enfolding it with warm wetness and pressing his tongue on the bottom side of the glans. Slowly he pulled back, rasping his lips over its surface, and then swallowed it again. Back and forth he worked on it now, and soon he could feel the trembling in the Vulcan's thighs, the slight contraction in his balls, the pulsing blood in his penis, all those many small signs of the upcoming orgasm. Strong hands suddenly closed on his head and grabbed his hair, and he was forced to increase the rhythm, being pulled and pushed towards taking it even deeper, and finally the climax ripped through the Vulcan's body and hot sperm filled his mouth and almost suffocated him before the grip on his head was released and he was allowed to pull back and breath freely again.

A moment later he found himself in a tight embrace and the Vulcan's mouth claimed him, kissing him deeply for an seemingly endless time till his body fought for air once more, and only then the Vulcan set him free.

Gasping Kirk clung at Spock, unable to say a word. But that was not necessary, anyway.

After today, there was no more question.

~end of Acidqueen part~

~The End~

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Jim took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. The more he thought about what Spock had said, what he was dismissing, the angrier he got.

"What if I want to be devoured?" he shouted.

Spock raised his eyebrows and stared at him.

"It's my life, too, and that entitles me to have some control over it." He stalked closer to Spock, barely noticing that the other's eyes had turned to ebony. "I don't care if you'll never be able to give me that darkness back. No, I take that back, I do care. But if it doesn't happen it doesn't happen." His own eyes were darkening, turning to embers as years of pent up emotion spilled out. "I want to be your lover, your best friend, your partner for the rest of my life. If you're not willing to take that chance - to not even *try* -- then at least be my friend. Don't shut me out of your life totally." The steam that had built up and fueled his tirade seemed to dwindle and die out. His shoulders slumped and his face looked tired and haggard. "Yes, I love the Enterprise. But I love you even more. And if I can't have you in my life. . . ." His eyes begged with Spock to understand. ". . . .then my life means nothing."

~end of Cait N. part~

Jim knew he had only one option left to him in order to convince Spock.

"You did not hear what I said," Spock responded, a little too calmly.
































Jim Kirk couldn't say when he left Gol. It simply wasn't important to him. Instead of the steps and widening distance, his mind was on the visit itself. And Spock.

Some men can live their entire lives without knowing what they have wasted, what they have thrown away. They can die without being aware of the pain they have caused others.

They can die without being faced with the pain they have caused themselves.

For a long time Jim remained where he was, pulled off by the dusty dry trail between ShiKahr and Gol. It was night; T'Khut was on the other side of Vulcan, and the stars were able to shine through the dry atmosphere. The barrier dune between Spock's city of birth and the seasonal winds made a moat of blackness, and the organic spheres of the houses limned themselves by the lights they cast. Phosphorous plant life gleamed in distant mauve and greens and glacier-blues.

All his life, Jim Kirk had thought he had defeated his foes. He had believed with all sincerety inherent in his ability to conquer his fears and ride above them. But all this time he had been living a lie. It had begun in the core of his heart, and reached outwards to inflict everyone who had been brave enough to reach his friendship. Because he had not been honest with himself--

Jim closed his eyes and squeezed his lids tightly.

--Because he had not been honest with himself, he had not been honest with the Others. If charity began at home, God only knew what a cowardice born in the backbone could bring.

Spock's face, too lean, too drawn, and too thirsty, filled his eyes inside his mind, and created a domino of faces; Chekov's youthful, cleanshaven bewilderment when he caused his captain's displeasure. The ensign had always mistaken Kirk's reaction for disappointment, and there had never been a correction. Chekov would always feel unable to live up to his standards.

Sulu, the only one of the bridge crew who craved command as keenly as Kirk ever had; only he held himself back, waiting for his commander's support and approval. Years were passing, and he was still waiting.

Scott, who had been on the ENTERPRISE longer than Sulu or Spock, and who loved the ship with a more personal attachment than Kirk ever would. Kirk's love of his ship had a tinge of idealism; if he ever felt for the inner, physical workings of his starship as Scott did, he would never be able to order her to Warp Eight. Scott never asked for anything for himself; he only wished to be relied on. Jim tried to recall if he had ever thanked the man. And so far, he could not.

Uhura, passionate, intense, calm, collected, and sharp--tailor making herself to fit each situation. One of the rarest talents humans possessed, but she was one of the rarest humans anyone would ever meet. His arm-length distance from her was an old habit to protect himself from the women in his command sphere. And she had always deserved better than that. He had never considered that she would be a responsible adult with no interest in her captain.

Bones. When Jim thought of him, he thought of several things at once. McCoy scolding, laughing, mocking, using sarcasm like a rapier, shaking his head at foolishness, loudly demanding caution and taking deep offense at being protected. All of it just a mask that hid the heart he wore on his sleeve. When had he gentled his fights with Spock? When had Spock stopped fighting with him?

When Bones had wanted to stay with Natira, Jim's reaction had been pure emotion, and he had lashed out, trying to scald the other into rejoining them. McCoy's backhand across his face had been the reaction of an out-of-temper parent with a too-precocious child. And Spock, who would have ripped apart any Klingon, or Commodore that dared lift a finger against Jim, had done nothing. Jim remembered an irrational anger at Spock for that.

"Doctor, this is most unlike you." Spock had only said in that soft baritone.

"Is it, Mr. Spock? Is it really?" Bones had shot back. He did not look surprised when Spock had no further argument. He only looked tired and sad.

*I thought he looked like that because of the xeno.* Jim wrenched his eyes from the softly glowing city, and to his hands instead. They burned stark-white against the red volcanic sands. *But he'd been that way a long time. It started about the same time he stopped bugging me about my risk taking. And I didn't think anything of it; I just thought he'd seen the light and gave up being my mother hen. But that's when it started...he gave up, all right. He gave up on me. And Spock saw it.*

Spock had seen it because he had been feeling the same way. Had it been desperation that drove him to go to Jim? Or had he stubbornly clung to that hope he was known for--hope that he could always explain away in logical terms that drove Bones crazy. Spock had never given up on his captain, his t'hy'la, his other half.

*And he hadn't given up. I had to throw his heart in his face before the last straw broke him.*

Just because someone apologizes, doesn't mean you *have* to accept their apology. It was a hard lesson. If he hadn't been so concerned with himself and how he had felt, he would have thought of Spock first, and prevented all of this.

He thought that Spock looked too harsh in the life of Gol. Too gaunt and thin, like a caricature of a vampire.

He shivered all over at that unplanned thought. In a way, Spock was. He'd taken a piece of Jim's life and pulled it inside to live off.

And Jim's life, taken without permission, would slowly burn him up until nothing of Spock was left.

*I would have given him everything...* Jim realized his eyes were open again, and squeezed them back shut. Yes, he would have. He would have given. He told himself this, even though a very large part of him disputed this loudly; pointed out that he never actually gave to people, even the ones close to him. The Others' faces swam before him again, flickers of life and color. The fear had always held him back.

You have two choices, that inward part told him what he already knew. You can keep on going, or you can stay here, stuck between Gol and ShiKahr.

Forcing a choice, as he had forced Rayna to choose.

There was really only one solution.

*

"Jim?" McCoy's voice.

He didn't move.

"Jim."

Long silence while the standing man waited. Behind him, a flyer hummed beside the other one, its power cells almost dead.

The doctor dropped down to sit on the night-cooled sands, angling so he could peer up into the younger man's face. He didn't like what he was seeing. He hadn't seen it in a very long, long time. Jim Kirk was wearing that thinking-determined expression.

"Jim, they sent for me to come get you. D'you know how long you've been out here?"

He hadn't expected an answer--not that fast. It was more Jim's MO to string him along and give a grudging reply after much wheedling and threatening.

"I have a good idea, Bones. T'Khut's a pretty hard thing to miss when its going across the sky."

"T'Khut's a nightmare." McCoy said bluntly, relieved that Jim was beginning to communicate. "Jim, come on. There's nothing you can do here."

"You spoke to Spock." Jim accused.

McCoy didn't say anything to that. He had spoken to Spock, yes--but before Jim had ever come to Vulcan. And he felt very much like the rope in a tugging game, with his heart feeling the pain of both men.

Jim took the silence for an answer. "I am doing something, Bones."

Jim could always astonish him. "What are you doing, Jim?"

Jim's cracked lips stretched painfully. "You told him I needed to forget, so he made sure I forgot."

McCoy winced deeply and almost turned away. "Jim..."

"I'm not...blaming you." Jim spoke with difficulty. He hadn't spoken for days. It felt like a century. "I told him I didn't know his language very well. But you know, I don't think he knows ours."

"You're speaking in riddles, Jim. I should be used to that..." McCoy tried to grumble, but all this was just not familiar enough for banter. He swallowed hard. "Jim?"

Jim's broken smile grew a little bit. Bones looked terrible; sleepless. Where had they found him? And they shuffled him off to this godforsaken place to attempt to reason with him.

"Don't worry about me, Bones. I'm just making things right."

"Dying doesn't make things right." McCoy held up his tricorder like a bible. "Do you think Spock would be impressed at this?"

"Spock isn't Spock anymore. And its my fault. He's stuffed full of my emotions, Bones. My guilt--"

"--looks like you still have enough guilt to go around!" Out of temper at last, the doctor grabbed Jim's shoulders and dug his fingers in hard.

Jim's hazel eyes were rust-colored in the light of the red sands. And bloodshot. "My guilt." He repeated hoarsely.

*

A sedative took care of the first problem. The second problem was carrying Jim up the incline into the waiting car. After thinking it over, McCoy took the precaution of strapping him in. Firmly.

The fourth problem was calling the Federation Embassy and telling them things were under control and their precious Kirk was fine--in other words, lying through his teeth.

After that he sat and thought, overlooking not the city, but the distant mountains of Gol. Spock was there--entombed in living rock. No wonder Jim had chosen to contemplate ShiKahr instead--the city was an emblem of Spock's life, not this living burial in the mountains where only carrion-gliders lived.

The fifth problem weighed on his shoulders even heavier than this planet's gravity.

Only twice had he tried to help Jim against his will. The first time had been over that blasted cloud vampire. He'd had Spock's help back then, and both of them had been given a taste of Jim's powers of guilt. Experienced in human emotions, the doctor seen enough to be alarmed at Jim's powers of obsession--and known enough not to get too close to it. Spock hadn't been so lucky. Jim had been a burning fire, and Spock, chldlike in his ignorance, hadn't known that the fire could burn.

The second time he'd gone against Jim...McCoy closed his eyes, trying not to think of the bitter details, and seeing the bars of the Admiralty loom between them.

Jim wanted to die. To refuse him that right...well, that very well could be a third disaster--worse than the other two.

But people could want to die for the wrong reasons. And McCoy couldn't bear the thought of Jim doing that. He'd helped his father die--never and never again.

He leaned his arm on the support dash, closing his eyes and listening to the soft rise-fall of Jim's chest behind him. Whatever he did, it'd better be before he woke up...

Maybe Jim was right; maybe he could free Spock if he died. It was a possibility. In so many ways, Spock was a man possessed by an invading spirit. And unused to the power of emotions, the Vulcan had turned from a man possessed to a man addicted.

*I should never have mentioned Vulcan.* McCoy reached for self-blame, and stopped, shuddering as if he'd found himself on the brink of an abyss. No, blame and guilt had swallowed this world up. No more. Guilt tended to thrive in a static environment. He was through with that.

So now what?

Set things to rights. Somehow. Already his mind was searching through possibilities; giving Jim a temporary brain-death? It had fooled the touch-sensitive Spock before, back in the Marriage Circle when they'd fought over that stupid T'Pring. Possibly Spock wouldn't be fooled a second time. Not without a plausible reason.

*But there is a reason. He rejected Jim, just as Jim did him. He'd believe it if he felt Jim die?*

McCoy snorted to himself. Damn Vulcans. And damn the be-all, know-all Aesthetics. They thought they knew everything. Well, they didn't. He was a doctor, thank you very much, and he didn't just swallow the idea that someone would pick up another's personality and swallow it forever like a slice of cake. There had to be a connection existing between the two men. Vulcans believed all kinds of poppycock about the mind and will because they wanted to believe it. And they were masters of rationalization. Jim's cultural flaws had trapped him as surely as Spock's had done to him.

And if either would be free, he would have to find a way to break it. Setting his lips in a hard line, McCoy re-started his flyer. He'd have the authorities return Jim's craft. And then he'd probably have to file in a leave of absence.

He had a lot of work to do, but damn it, he'd do it, exploring all possibilities until none were left.

*Maybe it's my turn to play God--Lord knows, Jim and Spock have been guilty of that in the past...* McCoy almost laughed at the irony of it. How many times had he admonished his own students: "MD does not stand for Medical Deity!" But he didn't see much choice. Jim and Spock were both trapped in their emotional quagmires--and both of them, in their own ways, had never been emotionally grounded.

So guess who that left to do all the objecting thinking and planning?

He exhaled, slowly, through his teeth, and set the controls for auto. It was time he started planning.

~end of Marcy part~

~The End~

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Kirk stepped off of the shuttle at the Shikahr Spaceport and looked around for a cab. He must have looked like a lost puppy because an aircar bearing the universally familiar checkerboard, designed to make tourists feel right at home, sped ahead of the traffic and pulled up alongside him.

The driver didn't speak or turn as Kirk tossed his duffel on the far side of the seat and slid inside. He hadn't announced his destination before the cab surged skyward in dizzying fashion. Kirk grabbed ahold of the back of the seat in front of him to steady himself for what must have been a three-g ride to distance altitude.

He opened his mouth to give the driver his destination but his vision failed at that moment and he slumped forward in the seat.

Kirk awoke to darkness or a blindfold, he couldn't immediately discern which. His hands and feet had been bound securely by someone who had known what they were doing. Vibration from the aircar engine pressing against him had made his shoulder go numb. He could sense minor course changes in their flight that reminded him acutely of the Enterprise. In fact, all of his senses had come alive as they hadn't since the mission had ended. He strained his hearing for any clue as to his situation and bided his time until a chance to escape appeared.

Kirk's blindfold was removed to reveal near-darkness. Stars shown beyond the black figure who moved with non-Human agility away from him.

He sat up on the rocky sand and suppressed a groan as his head spun with the movement. The bindings securing him were still as tight as ever, so Kirk relaxed as much as possible and watched the figures moving away toward the gently glowing outline of an aircar.

"Excuse me," Kirk said.

They embarked silently and the car lifted off.

"Well, God-damn," he muttered and shifted to test his bonds.

He replayed in his mind the image of the driver of the cab. Just an ordinary looking Vulcan male, maybe a little younger than Sarek. Absolutely nothing had cued him that he was in danger.

"Must be losing my wits," he said as he felt around for a rock sharp enough to work on the cords binding his hands.

After crab-crawling around in the sand for fifteen minutes finding only round worn stones, he stopped for a break. Again, he tried to think of a rational reason for his predicament and failed. Heck, he couldn't even think of an irrational reason.

He turned over onto his side to find a spot where stones were not pressing into his thighs and his foot bumped something that sounded unnatural. Kirk scrambled over and by contorting himself around, seized upon a sizeable knife. He shook his head in confusion but wasted no time jamming the handle between two boulders and cutting the bonds on his wrists. His ankle bonds followed. Kirk thought a moment, then pocketed the cords and stuck the knife in his waistband and walked carefully over to where the aircar had parked.

It was much too dark for him here. Starlight alone lit the broad sky around him, except off to the right where an orange glow was appearing. Kirk sat on a boulder and waited for T'Kuht to rise and spill enough light over the landscape to enable him to get around.

By the dull orange light he surveyed the landscape. If that distant peak was Mt. Seleya, which it looked like it was, then he was over three hundred clicks from Shikahr. He sat back down and thought for a while. Considerate action in unknown situations was half of the reason he had survived the five-year mission to uncharted space. The other half was the phenomenal skills of his crew, one of whom he dearly wished were here with him right now.

If he remained here on this high point until morning he could potentially see the nearest settlement without traveling an excessive distance, but it meant staying where hostiles knew his location. Also given the heat of the Vulcan day, he would not have much travel time before needing to seek shelter until dusk.

He circled the top of the rise he was on and saw to the north-west a flickering of lights arranged as though composing a town. He headed off in that direction, picking his way carefully in the misleading light.

He hadn't gone a click when a strange sense of dread slowed him to a stop. It was as though every moment of command and animal instinct he had ever experienced were piled together into one sense of wrongness. He turned on the spot and saw nothing around him. The sense continued to sharpen and morph into desperation. Kirk spun again, trying illogically to get a fix on the strange sensation. He took a step to the east and oddly felt as though perhaps that was the correct direction.

He stumbled that way for a few minutes, each step re-enforcing the notion that this was the way to go. Command training forced him to stop and re-evaluate. What if this were some kind of trick? But why? They had their chance to kill him, why leave him out here? Forcing himself to do so against the driving instinct, Kirk sat down and stared off into the dimness.

This was some kind of telepathy, he considered. Spock, he thought with a bone vibrating chill. As soon as the thought had flashed through his mind, Kirk was certain. The strangeness of the sensation was caused by Spock attempting to block his emotions, he was certain. He had felt that shielding effect every time they had melded.

He started out in a run, tripping and barely maintaining his feet as he headlonged down the slope. At the bottom, the rockiness petered out and hard packed sand and slate slabs made the going easier. Kirk slowed down only when his lungs felt close to exploding.

He lost track of how long he had run. T'Kuht's progress across the night sky made him estimate over two hours. Exercise had fortunately been his main vice this last year other than expensive coffee. He slowed to a walk and tried to catch his breath in the rarified air. He began passing small leafless shrubs. Something bothered him about this, but he couldn't spare much thought beyond the siren of Spock's mind to dredge up the memory that toyed with him.

Another half click brought the memory slamming back to him as he heard just one grating scrape on stone before he was knocked to the ground. His hand had reactively gone for the knife on the back of his waistband but he'd been too slow. Long fangs had sunk into his upper arm and jerked him off of the ground before he could pull the knife clear and around in front of himself. By that time he had been unsummarily dropped hard on the stone again. With pain blasting his senses Kirk held the knife out defensively and made it to a crouch. The shadow of the lematre moved away making hacking noises and keening lowly at the foul iron taste in its mouth.

Stupid. Lematres like the scrub because that is where the prey is.

Kirk forced himself to move on. He pulled off his shirt as he walked and tore off a sleeve to use as a bandage. Using his teeth as a spare hand, he finally managed to get it tied tightly around his left arm, easing the throbbing marginally.

Morning came in a haze of pain. Despite the cool night air, Kirk was parched and day was just beginning. His sense of Spock had ebbed and surged but he had never lost sense of the best direction. By mid-morning, he began looking for roots to squeeze for moisture only to discover that he knew precious little about Vulcan desert survival. This was a civilized planet, why would anyone get stuck in the desert?

Kirk shook his head and immediately regretted the onset of a headache. He stood at the base of an escarpment that his direction sense insisted he should climb. He walked along it instead, producing howls of protest from his strange new homing instinct.

He found what he'd hoped for though, a tiny trickle of red-stained water oozing from a crack in the stone and compressed dirt making up the side of the escarpment. The metallic taste didn't stop him from pressing his lips right into the stone to drink his fill and then double that. He also soaked his clothes and then headed back to a seam he could climb with relative ease, even one-handed.

He felt strong and young when he made the top of the escarpment, even though he was close to wheezing. Each of his senses was thrown into stark relief and it felt good. He had been dead these last months, he realized, someone had just forgotten to toss him into the casket.

He looked around at the bleak landscape before heading for a tumble of stones for shelter from the afternoon sun.

Sitting still in the shade, his back against the cool surface of the stone was the hardest thing he had ever done. Every fiber of his being ached to take off at a run in the direction of Spock's muffled mental call. By the time the sun sank near the horizon, Kirk had tears of effort streaking his cheeks. When this was over, he was going to drag Spock home no matter what the damn Vulcan said. Forget his own stupid mistakes, this damn planet wasn't going to hold Spock if he killed himself freeing him with his own soul.

Pausing just to tighten the bandage over his swollen, disturbingly purplish wounds, Kirk started out again. It was a moment when the sense had ebbed, so Kirk continued on the course set by his last internal reading.

The dusky air was chilling him by the time he came upon the figure. He had been concentrating more on putting one sore foot before the other than on the landscape at that point. If he hadn't happened to glance up to set his bearings to Mt. Seleya he might have missed the Vulcan standing stone still, staring off back the way Kirk had come.

Kirk reached around behind himself but didn't pull out the knife. He stepped up in front of the figure, who failed to acknowledge him as though in a trance. He was wearing one of those silvery getups Kirk remembered from Spock's failed wedding. Kirk scratched his ear and looked around them at the barren rise they stood on.

"So," Kirk began, "the odds that you aren't involved in this are too astronomical to compute, not that I could at this point." He stared off at the spot the stranger was staring at. His arm had begun throbbing viciously and the pain was making it frighteningly hard to track Spock.

He resisted the urge to wave his hand in front of the Vulcan's eyes. "Any suggestions?" Kirk asked satirically.

The Vulcan turned his head and met Kirk's gaze, making the human step back in surprise.

"You must defeat me in combat," the stranger stated.

"Oh, yeah. Not a chance," Kirk laughed. He pulled out the knife and tossed it aside angrily. Dark eyes darted to watch it clatter among the rocks then re-met Kirk's. "And your name would be?" Kirk asked.

An eyebrow went up. "Stenn."

"Ah, so you must be a relative then." Anger flooded into Kirk's limbs giving them a renewed, though shaky, strength. He stalked past Stenn or tried to--Stenn had a hold of, thankfully, his good arm in an instant.

"You have no choice," the Vulcan stated evenly.

"The hell I don't," Kirk replied.

"Do not mock our traditions, Human."

"Clue me into them and I'll give respect a little try," Kirk managed. He felt suddenly dizzy, a combination of the injury, hunger, thirst and probably some kind of exotic infection.

"You are an outsider to this clan and cannot be accepted without passing the Tests of Loyalty."

Kirk's heart thudded in his chest with an odd kind of hope and it made him sway on his feet even more. "Combat eh?" he said with relish. "Chess then."

"I do not understand," Stenn said.

"I challenge you to a game of chess. It is a form of combat," Kirk insisted. "Beam in a game and let's get on with it."

Stenn stared at him oddly, the first crack that had shown in his control. "Very well."

As Kirk set up the 2-D board, Stenn commented, "If you were Vulcan, mental games would be impossible for you."

"They would?" Kirk commented. Between his ache of concern for Spock and the dizziness from his wound he could barely carry on a conversation.

"A Vulcan would be in a violent rage at this time."

Kirk paused and looked up at Stenn. "That doesn't sound very logical," he deadpanned and went back to straightening the rows of pawns.

Kirk had him in eleven moves. Stenn stood and bowed for Kirk to pass. Kirk took a few unsteady steps along the rise then called out Spock's name. He turned back to Stenn who had resumed his stoic pose, only facing Kirk now. "Where is he?"

An eyebrow went up. "You cannot discern this?"

Kirk's shoulders slumped. He had lost his sense of where to go. He had lost Spock. He gave Stenn a desperate look.

"He has been shielding himself from you," Stenn stated.

"Why?"

"We do not know."

Kirk closed his eyes and fought against the weight of defeat. He looked around them again. "You didn't ask him."

Stenn shook his head.

"Curiosity must be something he got from his mother," Kirk mumbled and stalked in the general direction he had been heading before, the direction Stenn was now facing.

Stenn's factual voice called him back. "You will need the knife."

A click and a half farther on and in near darkness, Kirk saw the first flickers of torchlight. He couldn't even generate an emotion of gladness, just gushing relief. He was shaking with the last ounces of strength when he entered the circle of torches. Spock slumped unconscious, bound in the center to a tall rough pillar. Kirk crouched to cut his bonds and looked up as footsteps approached. He didn't recognize this Vulcan either though behind the black mask, he might have been Stonn. Kirk pointedly ignored the battle-worn lirpa the Vulcan carried.

Kirk lowered Spock to the sand, knocking aside a bowl of foul looking liquid that suspiciously matched the stains around Spock's lips. "Where is Sarek?" Kirk demanded.

"He is non-participatory," a distant voice stated. T'Pau moved slowly into the center from beyond the torches.

Kirk bit down hard on every last nasty remark he longed to make. His attempts to rouse Spock had failed but his breathing seemed normal so he calmed his panic. "Something else I have to do?" Kirk asked with no little venom in his voice.

"No. You have proven yourself," she stated coldly and turned and walked away into the darkness.

Kirk rolled his eyes and turned back to the guard. "You have transport?" Kirk asked.

After a pause the guard spoke in Vulcan and Kirk got the idea that he didn't know any Standard. He turned instead to Spock, lifting him into his lap and tapping him lightly on the cheek. Finally Spock's eyes opened but they remained unfocused. His haunting, drug-induced, desperation slammed into Kirk. "Spock!" Kirk cried out and clutched at him fiercely. He couldn't break free of Spock's need in fact he could barely breath.

Hours seemed to pass before he realized he was being spoken to in Standard. Someone was peeling his hands away from Spock with inhuman strength. A heavy robe enveloped Kirk's knees as Spock was pulled from him. "No!" Kirk shouted and then understood Stenn's comment about violence. Kirk was ready to kill or destroy anything or anyone at that moment. He tugged with all his remaining strength at the hands holding his wrists, unconscious now of his injuries. His murderous scream was cut short by a merciful neck pinch.

Kirk came to in a stone room he thankfully recognized. A youngish looking Vulcan male was preparing a hypo. The door opened and Sarek entered looking as concerned as Kirk had ever seen him.

"He should be taken to the medical center," the doctor said in Standard.

"That would be very awkward," Sarek stated.

Kirk sat forward slightly. "I'll be all right."

"You have a dangerous systemic infection," the doctor stated. "Which I have only now managed to obtain the medicine for." He injected Kirk with the hypo then returned to the task of cleansing the dirt-embedded abrasions on Kirk's elbow. The lematre bite had already been neatly bandaged.

"Leave us," Sarek commanded.

The doctor stood and stared at Sarek for a long minute in an expressionless battle before backing down and quietly straightening his things and departing. In the wake of his departure, Kirk sat up though he didn't manage to sit up very straight.

"Spock needs you," Sarek commented as though stating commodities prices.

Kirk leaned forward and stood up and followed Sarek out. Once in the hall, he led the way to the meditation room. Spock sat on the meditation stone, his expression made him appear completely adrift.

"Spock?" Kirk rasped.

Startled, Spock turned to look at him in the dim light from the firepot. "You are unharmed?" he asked, shocked.

"Yes, Spock." Kirk glanced at Sarek. "Yes, I'm fine," he lied smoothly.

Spock swallowed hard. "I did not realize. . ."

Kirk approached him and reached out and then stopped. "Can I touch him?" he asked Sarek.

"Indeed."

Kirk grasped Spock's arms and crouched before him. "Didn't realize what?"

"After your call I asked T'Pau for permission. . . I did not realize they would invoke the dead traditions. They have not used them. . . they did it because you are an outworlder."

"Shush, Spock it is all right," Kirk commanded to stop the rambling flow. He turned back to Sarek. "Is it awkward to get him help as well?"

"I will leave you two," Sarek intoned and departed.

Kirk pursed his lips and moved to sit beside Spock, putting an arm around his spare frame and pulling him close. Spock let his head rest on Kirk's shoulder.

"You are injured," Spock observed.

"Just a flesh wound."

"I did not believe you would make it at all. I did not want you to try. I tried to block you out, but they simply forced me to drink more Shan-ra."

"Spock, everything is all right. Really. I would do it all again for you in an heartbeat, though I could use a good night's sleep first."

Spock pulled away slightly and looked at him. "You never cease to amaze me, Jim." He touched Kirk's arm. "Perhaps I should know better by now than to underestimate you."

"I would say," Kirk quipped. He started to stand. "Come on. Let's get you somewhere to rest."

Back in Spock's room, Kirk handed him his half-full water glass. "Have some of this, help you wash down the. . . Shan-ra, I think you called it."

Kirk felt himself swaying on his feet, so he sat on the edge of the bed. Spock set down the empty glass with a clunk and stepped over to him. "You are seriously injured," he stated, focus coming to his eyes for the first time.

Kirk shook his head. "No, no. I'm just exhausted." He waved at the medical kit sitting off to one side. "The doctor was here--I'm fine."

Spock peeled off a corner of Kirk's largest arm bandage. "You have a blood infection," Spock stated.

"He gave me something for that."

"What?"

"I didn't get the name." Kirk replied and flinched as Spock touched the massive bruise on his thigh. "Really," he insisted, "I'm all right." Spock was flipping through the transparent bound sheets of medicine and equipment in the kit. Kirk almost chastised him again, then realized the transformation that had come over his friend, his dark eyes now determined and controlled. He lay back and shut up and allowed himself to be taken care of.

"Your pain has eased?" Spock eventually asked after satisfying himself as to Kirk's condition.

"Yes."

"I apologize again for what has happened," Spock said with bowed head.

Kirk grabbed his arm. "Spock I not only found you out there, I found myself. I'm very grateful for that. If the James Kirk who had left Earth had been the one who arrived, I think you'd have been disappointed in me." They studied each other in silence for a minute before Kirk broke the moment by saying, "Do you have something to eat? I am absolutely famished."

Spock nodded and left the room. In the pantry he encountered Amanda. "James is in need of sustenance," Spock said.

Amanda looked him over. He looked hellish in his dirt-smudged robe and disarrayed hair. She held her anger in check and opened the cooler and take out two portions of rice and beans.

Spock watched her set the timer on the warmer for thirty seconds. He didn't know what to say to her. This was the part of Vulcan culture that she strongly disapproved of and he knew she was struggling to keep her criticisms in check. He wished he knew if she blamed him for going to T'Pau, for trying to do things correctly.

The meals finished heating and she put them on a tray for him with spoons and napkins. As she handed it to him he attempted to explain, "I thought he deserved recognition," Spock stated quietly.

She looked at him and sighed. "He does Spock. He does. Now go on--he hasn't eaten in two days and neither have you."

Amanda went for a walk to calm herself and to attempt to dull the memory of the sight of her son ruffled and distraught. She returned through the garden and felt calm enough from the exertion to face Sarek. She found him in the library reading from a padd.

The words she had planned to say escaped her as his borderline uncertain gaze met hers. "I did not approve," Sarek said, breaking the silence.

"But you didn't stop it," she retorted, pleased with the cold calm in her own voice.

Sarek stood, his thick robe falling straight around him. "I was not informed where the Test was to take place until it was over. It did not seem wise to call planetary security under the circumstances."

"I should check on them," she said and started to turn.

"I would not do so right now."

She turned back with a questioning look and he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh," she said and took a deep breath and dropped into one of the other chairs. She shot him an uncertain look and he replied, "They are attempting to be quiet, but are not quite succeeding."

Amanda covered her mouth to stifle the laugh of amusement and relief that tried to burst out. She sat back and curled her legs under her and crossed her arms. "I hope. . . I hope this ends his unhappiness." She glanced at Sarek. "Don't you dare try to tell me that is not worthy goal for Spock."

He gave her an innocent expression. "I would not attempt something as unwise as that."

~end of Dread Nought part~

~The End~

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A moment passed and Kirk sensed his officers falling into an instinctive, cooperative, self-preservation mode. They both began talking at once then subsided. Bones won out.

"Ah, just a little disagreement, Jim, Captain."

Kirk moved a large, curved shard of glass with his toe and raised an eyebrow at his CMO.

"I was just about to depart-" Spock began to stand up.

Kirk aborted this move with a hard hand on Spock's shoulder from behind. "Stay put," he commanded. Drunken junior officers blowing off the stress of a harried double shift he could overlook, but violent outbreaks among his senior officers was not acceptable, especially not on the edge of unexplored space.

"A disagreement about what?" Kirk asked in an undeterred voice.

McCoy shrugged as if to brush off the issue. "You know how it is, Captain."

"Spock?" Kirk redirected his question. The shoulder under his hand stiffened as the Vulcan sat straighter.

"It is no longer an issue, Sir."

Kirk pursed his lips. Kicking a chunk of glass, he asked, "Who broke this bottle?" His officers exchange a look.

McCoy stood up behind his desk and took on a placating posture. "Come on, Jim. Everything's straightened out now."

"Who?" Kirk demanded again.

McCoy shut his mouth and frowned at Kirk.

"I did, Captain," Spock said.

Kirk looked McCoy up and down. "You hurt?"

Surprised by the question, McCoy shook his head.

Kirk stared his CMO down for long seconds. "What did you say right before he threw it."

McCoy moved his mouth a moment before replying, "I don't remember," in a regretful voice.

Kirk stepped to the side of Spock, not taking his hand off his shoulder. "You would remember, though," he said to the Vulcan. He regretted this tact in the next moment as the memory of McCoy's words obviously stung Spock again. Kirk threw a frown at McCoy, who gave him a helpless look.

"Jim," McCoy said gently. "Let it go."

Kirk started to rise to that in defiance, then forced himself to back down. "Spock, come with me," he ordered and left the CMO's office.

They walked in silence back to Kirk's quarters. At Kirk's door, the captain triggered it and gestured for Spock to enter before him.

Kirk paced the room once. He was determined to get to the bottom of this but was also acutely aware that Spock could become violent again if Kirk pursued the issue less than carefully. "What started it?" he finally asked.

Spock had difficulty with the question and visibly hesitated replying.

"You joined McCoy in his office. . ." Kirk prompted.

Spock swallowed hard. He looked trapped. "Doctor McCoy wished to talk."

"About?"

"About the psychology of pirates, initially."

Kirk backed off at Spock's bona fide expression of panic. He hitched his hip on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms.

"Spock, you are the single most important crewmember I have," Kirk said and paused as Spock hung his head. "If there is something wrong, I need to know what it is." A niggling voice reminded Kirk that the last time Spock threw breakable things around the ship was right before an emergency trip to Vulcan. Well, actually that didn't count the incident in the transporter room when they were orbiting Ceti Alpha Five. In that case the breakable thing had been Kirk himself.

"Certainly you see the logic in that?" Kirk continued. He let that sink in and in a soft voice asked again, "What did McCoy say?"

Spock withered at that again, making Kirk wince in sympathy. Spock paced the space between the bulkhead and the room divider this time, clearly disturbed by his position.

Spock cleared his throat and stopped. He stared at the medals mounted behind glass over Kirk's shelving behind the desk. "I asked the good doctor's advice." Spock paused. Kirk remained still, gazing at Spock's profile.

"He mocked me, essentially," Spock finally managed in a quiet, harsh voice.

"He'd probably had a few," Kirk pointed out.

Spock nodded. "Perhaps." Spock closed his eyes. "Perhaps he is simply correct."

The last was spoken with such an underlying vein of sadness that Kirk dropped his arms and reached out to brush Spock's sleeve at his elbow. Spock startled at the touch and collected himself.

"I am in need of meditation, Captain," Spock stated.

Kirk ached to let him off the hook, but his command instinct overrode it. "In a moment, Spock," he said consolingly. Spock turned his head away slightly as though to hide his expression. Kirk gripped Spock's arm rather than just his sleeve. "Are you going to be all right?"

Spock nodded after hesitating.

"This is obviously something that has been bothering you for a long time. . ." Kirk braced himself. "Why don't you let me help?" He re-crossed his arms. "If you don't think I'll understand, I'll remind you that I understand you better than anyone else."

Spock stood with his head hung. "That is definitely true, Captain."

"You can trust me, you know," Kirk added after a very long silence.

Spock nodded again.

"I would never make fun of you, or mock you, and I'm going to give McCoy what-for the next chance I get."

"He was just speaking his opinion, Captain. He knows you better than I," Spock added quietly.

"I don't think that's true. I've never mind melded with Bones, after all," Kirk answered automatically then realized that Spock had let slip the topic of disagreement.

Kirk studied Spock's narrow profile and wondered what about himself would make his CMO and his First get into a full row. "I hope you were arguing on my side," Kirk said.

"Sir?" Spock turned to him.

"I said, I hope you were on my side of the argument because if you have a problem with my command you know to come to me with it."

Spock's confused gaze met Kirk's and Kirk realized he was way off-base.

"The topic was me. . ." Kirk urged.

Spock's eyes shifted as he realized his slip. He finally nodded. Kirk watched as the other's distress level shot sky-high again.

"What did McCoy say to set you off so?"

Spock exhaled shakily. "He said you-" he stopped, tilting his head as though to break an invisible bond around his neck.

"I what?" Kirk lost his patience. "Spock?" Kirk demanded in his best command tone.

". . . you could not possibly be attracted to a scrawny, male, half-breed-"

"What?!"

". . . who is. . .perpetually confused about his emotion priorities."

Kirk stared at him. "He said that? How much did he have to drink?"

"Quite a lot."

"And you probably caught him off-guard." Kirk leaned away from the desk and stepped closer. He studied Spock's aquiline nose and brow from the side. "You picked a bad time to talk to him--he usually gives better advice."

"He said you would not be interested, period."

Kirk calmed his own emotions with effort. "That is because I turned him down once, and not gently."

Spock turned to him suddenly at this.

"A very long time ago." Kirk gestured with his head. "Here, sit down." He led the way to the small couch beside his desk. He felt light and free and almost drunk with possibility.

Spock sat stiffly. "You are not. . . upset," he stated.

"No, Spock. I'm not." He rubbed his eyes. "Well, that is not quite true. It unnerves me to see my most stable officers losing control. I look to you two to always be my anchors when things get rough."

Kirk took Spock's hand loosely in his own. Spock bowed his head and stared at his own lap. "McCoy couldn't have been more wrong," Kirk pointed out.

Spock's gaze came halfway to Kirk. "You are implying that you are interested in a more physical relationship?"

He squeezed Spock's hand. "I have been trying to figure out how to tell you."

Spock shook his head. "You have given no indication. . ."

"I have been working hard at giving you no indication while I tried to decide whether it is a good idea or not." He covered Spock's hand with his other. "I really, deeply care about you, Spock." After Spock finished reacting to that in his own subdued way, Kirk added, "You are emotionally raw right now, but I can't resist inviting you to stay the night."

"Of course," came the rough answer.

Kirk grinned and brushed his hand over the back of Spock's neck debating whether to pull him closer or meet him most of the way for a kiss. Deciding not to seem too push Spock, he leaned over awkwardly and found Spock's lips.

They were falling backwards against the side bolster of the couch when Spock grasped Kirk's shoulders and sat him upright.

"The door," Spock whispered.

Kirk managed to stand just as the chime preceded the door sliding open. A chagrined McCoy stood in the corridor.

"I just wanted to apologize to Spock," McCoy slurred. Kirk gestured at the couch and turned his back on him and fiddled with the switches on his desk. "I didn't mean what I said," the doctor explained to Spock.

"I sure as hell hope you didn't," Kirk broke in without turning around.

"Ah," McCoy muttered in realization.

"Get lost, McCoy. We are still. . .talking," Kirk stated. He glanced at Spock, neatly composed on the couch in his steepled-fingers pose. He could feel McCoy's gaze on his back, but he didn't turn around.

McCoy stepped back through the doorway and the instant the door met the bulkhead, Kirk hit the lock switch. He turned back to Spock, studying his lean form with new eyes. Spock stood smoothly and approached him.

Kirk gazed at him a long moment before sliding his arms around the taller frame of his friend. Spock's hands were slow but the eventually rested on Kirk's shoulder blades. Kirk's voice came muffled from the chest of Spock's uniform, "I don't want to take advantage of you, you don't have to stay tonight."

Spock's hands tightened on Kirk. "You cannot take advantage of me. I am stronger than you and I am well aware of the jurisdiction of your command. Please, do not concern yourself." He hesitantly raised one hand and ran it over Kirk's hair. Kirk relaxed against him and he repeated the gesture.

Kirk shifted against Spock. "My desire is not going to disturb you?" Kirk asked.

"I do not expect so. Is that uncertainty one of the things that has kept you silent?"

"Probably," Kirk replied.

"You are only Human. I understand that," Spock stated dryly.

"Only Human?" Kirk pushed him to arm's length. "I'll show you 'only Human'."

Spock's eyebrows shot up as Kirk pulled him to his sleeping alcove and urged him back onto the bed. He looked down at Spock's sky blue uniform, at it laying flat on Spock's trim abdomen. He felt a sudden urge to tear it off of him, but decided that violence was undoubtedly the last thing Spock needed.

He sat beside Spock on the bed, unsealed the blue tunic and when Spock leaned forward, slid it off of him.

"Thank you," Spock said shyly.

Kirk froze and then said, "You reading my thoughts?"

After a hard swallow, Spock replied, "A little."

Kirk smiled. "I don't mind." He reached and pulled Spock's black t-shirt off as well. Spock lay back and Kirk reached for Spock's waistband.

"You are decisive in all things once you have determined a course of action," Spock observed.

"You want me to slow down?"

Spock shook his head. "I would not mind, however, if the room temperature were raised a little."

"Of course." Kirk went to the desk and adjusted the room up three degrees.

He resumed his position and slowly unsealed Spock's trousers.

"You are enjoying this," Spock said.

Kirk waggled his eyebrows. "I love looking at you. Do you know how hard it is after a workout to not look at you when you are changing?"

Spock shook his head and then tilted it back as Kirk ran his hands along Spock's hips to slide his pants off. "I truly had no sense of that. When you wish to hide your emotions, you are as adapt at it as any Vulcan." Kirk was pulling Spock's pants off of his feet, pausing to remove his boots as well.

"I think that is why we get along so well," Kirk said as he returned to sitting beside Spock's now naked form. He let his eyes rove freely over his soon-to-be lover. He stroked Spock's washboard abdomen, amused that it broke the rhythm of Spock's breathing. "Still cold?" Kirk asked as Spock's shivered coincidentally with his hand trailing over Spock's inner thigh.

"I should not be, it is sufficiently warm now."

Kirk bent over and kissed Spock's neck. Spock found the seal on his tunic and opened it. Kirk paused long enough to let Spock slide his tunic off. Spock rubbed his hands over Kirk's bare chest as he continued to explore Spock's upper body with his lips. His hand stroked Spock's penis raising another violent shiver from the Vulcan.

Kirk sat up and pulled the covers out from under Spock and covered his legs. He fetched another blanket and added that one to the thin one he normally used. He settled back on the bed and revealed Spock's testicles again and bent over and kissed the furred sacks.

"Jim," Spock breathed in pleasure.

"Say my name like that a few more times and I'll lose control," Kirk warned.

"It would be acceptable for you to do so."

"I don't think Vulcan sex is usually non-violent," Kirk observed.

"It is not," Spock admitted.

McCoy sat at his desk, debating whether to pour himself another. He'd expected Jim to come back down here and commiserate over Spock's confession of sexual desire, but he hadn't heard anything from him. He split the difference and tipped out a half-glass of scotch. As he brought it to his lips it occurred to him that Jim might be stupid enough to try to accommodate Spock's needs. The thought made him go cold. Vulcans didn't make love, they raped each other in madness.

McCoy started to stand, then remembered that he'd already been kicked out of Kirk's quarters once this evening. He sat back down and stared at the inside of the scotch bottle, his mind blank.

"I want this to be a gentle experience for you, Spock." Kirk said between kisses on Spock's thighs. He pushed Spock's legs apart farther with his hand and kissed him in the furred recess behind his balls.

Spock choked on the breath he was inhaling.

"I love inducing noises like that from you." Kirk stopped to pull off his boots. "Do you remember the night after the recovery mission on Beta Haley Eight when you were sore from setting up emergency shelters?" Kirk unsealed his own trousers and pulled them down and tossed them aside. "I convinced you that a shoulder massage would make you feel better." Kirk slid onto the bed, straddling Spock. "I actually made you moan twice I think. I fantasized that noise for a month afterward."

"It was very difficult to retain control while you were massaging me."

Kirk chuckled. "Too bad one of us didn't lose control. We could have skipped over all this intermediate waiting." Kirk bent down, brushing their chests together, stroking Spock's soft penis with his own rapidly hardening one.

Spock moaned beneath him and moved his hips in time with Kirk.

"Uhn, that sound," Kirk murmured holding himself hard against coming. He needed to back off. He tried to shift down the bed, but Spock's hold on his hips was restraining him.

"Spock," Kirk said. When he didn't get a response, he grasped Spock's arms. "Spock, let go."

Spock came to awareness and released him. "Forgive."

"It's okay," Kirk assured him and slid down to lay on Spock's legs. Spock's erection stood thickly at the edge of the blanket. Kirk ran his fingers along its braided shaft, then over each ridge making it throb with desire.

Kirk studied Spock's slack face a moment before closing his mouth over his glans. Spock bucked beneath him and grabbed Kirk's shoulder hard, trying to drive himself into his mouth. Kirk grabbed Spock's hand and pinned it to the bed. "Spock," Kirk said firmly. The hand flexed under his grip and Spock's chest heaved. "Relax, let me stay in control."

"Cannot. . ." Spock moaned.

"Yes, you can." Kirk wondered what would happen if Spock resisted him with his full strength. "You have Human control in there as well. Just flow with it--the more you ache now the more pleasure you are going to have." Kirk stroked Spock with his hand, watching Spock's control hold. "Keep your hands at your side."

Spock lifted his hips in need and Kirk obliged him by enclosing his head in his mouth again. He stroked the shaft with determined force as he sucked on the blunt tip. Spock's back arched hard and he whimpered, but he kept his hands still.

It suddenly occurred to McCoy that rather than calling the captain and potentially embarrassing himself again that he could just take a peek with the monitor using his medical override of the privacy setting. The system only logged it if he used it regularly, and he never used it and he was pretty sure no other medical staff did either.

His curiosity won out and he keyed in the sequence to call up the captain's desk monitor. It showed darkened quarters and the wall by Kirk's dresser. A strange noise came over the speaker, like a painful gasp. Frozen with fear, he keyed the monitor to turn until it showed the bed through the divider screen. McCoy's eyes went wide. His captain was giving the blow-job of the century to his First. It looked like Kirk had the foresight to tie Spock down because he didn't appear to be able to move his arms. God, what an erection, McCoy thought, Kirk had his mouth open about as wide as possible to get even the head in.

McCoy wanted to switch off the monitor, his arm even twitched once in that direction, but the scene held him mesmerized. Spock twisted and bucked on the bed in pure ecstasy emitting whimpery, needy moans. Kirk's hand stroked rapidly on the long coppery shaft and his tongue circled and lapped at the glans. The scene just continued and continued, McCoy lost track of time and only when Spock began crying out in orgasm, did McCoy have the sense to hit the lock switch for his office door.

His own cock pressed against the inside of his pants. He wondered if Kirk knew that Vulcans needed at last three rounds to be satiated. He looked forward with some curiosity to seeing how many Spock with his dual genetic makeup was going to need. He wanted to watch the golden boy working so hard at giving head again with a need that he didn't study too closely.

Kirk was speaking in a low voice, too low for the monitor to pickup. Spock's arms went around Kirk and McCoy realized with a start that he hadn't been restrained by anything more than Kirk's willpower. He shook his head, impressed with Kirk as always. He was actually glad that he couldn't hear them speaking clearly. Somehow that seemed like an unacceptable level of intrusion rather than the clinical one he was currently engaging in.

"You are still erect," Kirk observed as he shifted up to kiss Spock and stroke his face.

"I am not finished yet," Spock breathed.

"No? Well, what would you like next?"

"What you were doing was quite pleasurable and I do not have to worry about harming you."

"I can go back to that." Kirk started to shift back down, but Spock stopped him.

"In a few minutes. I need a pause."

"Okay." Kirk stroked his face again and fondled an ear.

"Please," Spock said, "I wish to take care of your need." He rubbed Kirk's half-erection with his thigh, causing it to jump. "I want to feel your completion."

"Say no more, Spock," Kirk said. He reached over to the side table and took out a tube. He spread it on himself with practiced ease and tossed the tube back on the headboard.

Spock wriggled under him and pulled his legs up, rolling his hips upward.

"This going to be comfortable for you?"

"I calculate that it is the optimum angle, yes."

Kirk grinned at that and moved into position. Spock's balls hung heavy between his legs. Kirk ran his lubed fingers down behind them to find Spock's anus. He then aimed himself and pressed forward. Spock relaxed and Kirk slipped in easily. He supported himself on his hands and began thrusting in long strokes.

"Is this pleasurable for you?" Spock asked.

"Yes," Kirk managed. "It isn't obvious?" He bent down and kissed Spock deeply, forcing his tongue into him in time with his hips. He couldn't hold back long and soon was jetting into Spock.

"He's more Human than he admits," McCoy thought, considering that a pure male Vulcan would never allow himself to be so dominated. Kirk looked good, no wonder he never lacked for bed partners.

Kirk moved back and guided Spock's legs down to the bed. He slid down again and began pleasuring Spock again.

McCoy hadn't consciously noticed but he had taken his own fly down and had his own erection out on his lap. "Well, hell," he said to no one and began stroking himself. He knew Kirk had no interest in him, but he could fantasize it was him getting such athletic attention.

Spock was much calmer this time and it took even longer. Kirk's neck was aching tired by the time Spock orgasmed a second time and finally went limp. He lay still as Kirk climbed up the bed to lie across him, pulling the covers with him. Spock stirred as Kirk settled in beside him.

"It is very unfortunate," Spock said.

"What is?" Kirk asked, making circles with his fingertips on Spock's chest.

"That I was able to control myself so well on Beta Haley Eight."

Kirk chuckled. "Well, it doesn't matter now." He kissed Spock's prominent collar bone before resting his head on the Vulcan's warm breast.

"Years of practical meditation have never produced in me such a feeling of completion."

Kirk tightened his grip on Spock's waist. "I am glad you are half-Human. I don't think I'd have gotten under your skin if you weren't."

"I don't think you would have either," Spock agreed and closed his eyes to enjoy the state of utter peace his mind had slipped firmly into. Kirk's damp coolness pressing against his side should have been a discomfort but he wouldn't have traded him for any warm, dry Vulcan.

~end of Dread Nought part~

~The End~

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Kirk skimmed dangerously close to the desert surface in his aircar. The storm was making it impossible to get a clear scan of the rocky surface. He could be right over Spock and never know it. Once again he cursed at the memory of the Vulcan 'priest', Sovelk. He had stood on the steps of Gol, clad in a severe black robe, looking down at Kirk.

"The acolyte Spock has embarked upon the Cha'un Wan - the Desert Trial. None may communicate with him until he returns."

Kirk's protestations about the illogic of one unarmed man venturing alone into the Vulcan desert for untold days and nights had gone unheeded. Even his warning of this severe storm had been ignored. Apparently the novice acolytes all embarked upon this trial. Sometimes they died. It was regrettable.

Finally he had left, storming out of Gol and slamming back into his aircar to conduct this mad one-person search. His intuition had rarely failed him during his years in command, and it was calling him now. He knew something was wrong with Spock.

The flicker when it came was brief and faint, hardly there. Kirk slammed the car to a stop and spun it around, crawling back over the same ground. There again. He surveyed the terrain below him and settled the car as close as he could to the spot the scanner had indicated. Donning a jacket and face mask he stepped out into the howling storm.

The wind was picking up the red dust and whipping it into his face, obscuring the readings on his tricorder. The sun was dipping towards the horizon and the air was an eerie red haze. Bent double into the wind he followed the faint trace up the side of a rocky outcrop. He reached out with his mind. It was possible he could reach Spock that way. Spock had once said that they were linked...

He saw the blood first. A pool of it at his feet. Green blood staining the red earth. The trail was easy to follow then. The rocks were giving some protection from the storm and he ran along the trail, feet stumbling among the rocks, hands searching for handholds to pull himself along.

He saw the creature first, its neck was broken. Matted brown fur was stained with green blood. Kirk had no idea what sort of animal it was, nor did he care. Frantically he continued on around a corner.

There he was, a twisted broken body lying face down on the surface. He was alive, blood was still flowing but there was so much of it...

"Spock!" His voice sounded strange in this thin air. "Spock!" Almost harsh.

He reached the body, sunk down on his knees beside it and clasped one shoulder to turn it around.

"Spock!" It seemed to be all he was capable of, just the one word. All the things he had planned to say to Spock when they met again, all the fine speeches, all left him. There was barely strength in him for that one word.

He gasped as the Vulcan's face came into his view, and then his torn chest. Almost turned away. Almost. Then one eye opened on that beloved face. The other was bloody and swollen shut. Spock's lips parted but no words emerged. He had no strength for speech. Jim's hands pressed to the gaping wound in the Vulcan's chest, and then to the one in his throat. Trying to stem the flow of blood.

"Spock, I'll go get help. Hang on. I'll get someone...You'll be fine." He knew the words were a lie. No help could come in time. He didn't know how Spock had survived this long. His hand fumbled at his communicator but his fingers were numb and would not work.

"No..." The word was a soft croak, but Kirk heard it. One hand fluttered up to Kirk's head and understanding Kirk pressed it to his temple. Contact was made.

Spock's mind voice was still strong, sounding clearly in Kirk's head. They might once again have been seated across the chess table, or on the bridge of the Enterprise.

"Jim, you came."

"To tell you how wrong I was. To tell you that I want to spend my life with you. I should never have run..."

There was a moments pause, and then a rush of emotion surged through the link, happiness.

"How can you be happy Spock? I caused this...We could have had so much, and I threw it away."

"We already had so much Jim." The link was filled with images of the two of them together, on the Enterprise. "You gave me so much Jim, and now you have given me this." The link was fading as Spock's strength failed him and Kirk pressed Spock's hand harder against his temple.

"Spock, don't go. Please stay with me."

He was answered, not with words, but with one final surge of energy across the link. Spock's mind came into his more deeply than it ever had before and in that one exquisite moment they were one, as joined as two beings could be. Kirk knew everything that Spock knew, felt everything that he felt and knew that his friend was as content then as he had ever been. Kirk's own grief was swallowed in the joining of their minds and accepted by both. Then darkness descended on them both.

When Kirk awoke he was out of the meld and lying next to Spock's body. Blood was still dripping onto the rocks, but no longer flowed. The heart was not beating and there was no breath. Spock was dead.

Slowly he came to his knees and knelt beside the body. Brushing a hand across his friend's face he closed the eyes. Removing his own jacket he placed it over the body, hiding the worst wounds from sight. The storm had died down, leaving a quiet calmness over the land. He stayed there beside his friend's body until an hour before dawn and then called for help from Gol.

The aircar came quickly, settling down beside Kirk's own vehicle. He stood and watched as a group of Vulcans emerged, Sovelk leading them. The Vulcan came to look down at Spock's body.

"I grieve with thee, Admiral."

Kirk said nothing, staring over Sovelk's shoulder. Several Vulcans clad in simple robes moved past them carrying a portable stretcher. They lifted Spock's body onto it and returned to the aircar.

"We will return him to his family." Sovelk said. Kirk nodded, still silent. Sovelk seemed to hesitate and then spoke again.

"When a Vulcan is dying he will meld with a relative, or a close associate, and pass on his Katra. This is then taken to the ancient hall and released where it will reside for all time."

Kirk finally turned his gaze on Sovelk, still saying nothing.

Sovelk hesitated and then continued.

"Forgive the breach of privacy but I must ask. Admiral, did Spock pass on his Katra to you? Was he alive when you reached this place?"

Kirk looked at the rocks where his friend had died and then back at Sovelk. He tilted his head slightly to one side and arched an eyebrow.

"He was dead when I got here."

With that he turned and walked towards his aircar. He could feel Sovelk staring after him but did not turn. He was exhausted and his grief was strong but his mind was clearer than it had been in a long time. Uncertainty had been replaced by purpose. It was time to move on with his life. He would return to Earth, find Leonard McCoy and make peace with him. Together they would return to Starship duty and go out amongst the stars once more. That was the logical thing to do.

As he entered the car he turned one last time and saw the first rays of the sun peeking up above the horizon. Soon it would be a new day. He turned away.

"Come on Spock, let's go home."

~end of Menolly part~

~The End~

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Jim knew he had only one option left to him in order to convince Spock. In desperation, he drew from his pocket the mini-phaser he had concealed there earlier, and pointed it at his own right ear. He was determined to leave this room in one of only two ways: as Spock's lover, or dead.

"Keep away from me, Spock. I know how to use this."

Spock stared, seemingly unmoved. "Indeed."

***

Spark struggled to control his emotions for the third time in as many hours. Flunking out of the Vulcan Science Academy had probably not been the most logical course of action for him to take as a youth, but he was paying for his laziness now, of course. It made for a certain kind of rational harmony in his universe, he realized. Now here he was in a smelly old spacesuit -- orbiting the planet that epitomized intelligence, cleanliness, superiority -- reduced to being a sort of planetary trash attendant. How logical that it was actually an antique refuse-processing plant which he was now dismantling.

Steadying himself against the reactor, he wielded his wrench and gave yet another twist to the ancient nuclear-powered trash vaporizer assembly. Space dust had become stuck in the threads, and loosening it was proving to be a more arduous task than anyone had predicted. One more twist should ...

"Oops." He had said the word in Standard, of course; there was no Vulcan equivalent, for ideal Vulcans would never have use of it. He did have, however, because his overzealous twisting maneuver had just sent approximately two hundred kilograms of enriched Blorkonium into a rapidly-decaying orbit about Vulcan.

"Spark to Spink." There went his emotions again, as he remembered that his incompetent brother Spink was running the orbital defense system for this sector. Spink, unknown to anyone outside the family, was rather too fond of Romulan ale -- and he had returned from Romulus only yesterday.

***

"I mean it, Spock! I'm going to shoot myself, and THEN you'll be sorry! THEN you'll be ... "

SSSHHHHFFFRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!!! POW!!!!

~end of J Juls part~

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Nothing.

Kirk shook the tricorder and held it to his ear before shaking his head and letting out a slight laugh at himself.

"We've found that the atmospherical conditions interfere with the use of signals here. A kind of a 'dead zone' if you'll pardon the expression."

Kirk started to whirl around at the well-known and beloved voice. He had time to gasp out "Spock!" and catch a glimpse of a heavy white robe before the world went black.

He woke in a cool darkened room, scant light entering from under a closed door and high, covered windows. The door swung open, admitting a robed and hooded figure. Spock.

"Ouch." Kirk said, good-naturedly, with a grin, fighting the urge to jump up and gather Spock to him.

"Your fluids were dangerously low. It is fortunate I was there when you chose to lose consciousness."

"Fortunate, Mr. Spock?" Kirk teased, grin evident in his tone.

"Very."

"I love you, you know." Kirk continued without changing tone, just so happy to be seeing Spock again.

Spock's eyes closed for a split second. "Actually, yes I do."

"You do?"

"My father said you were very upset when he spoke to you."

"I was. Gol?"

"I was studying the society. They're completely closed off from the Vulcan mainstream. It's...fascinating."

Jim began to laugh. "I thought you were becoming a member of their society!"

Abruptly Spock turned serious, though Kirk thought he was one of the few people to be able to discern the difference. "I was considering it, Jim. It was only because I knew you did love me that I could wait."

"You were so sure?" Kirk said wonderingly.

"Very."

~end of Mecca part~

~The End~

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"Admiral Kirk," Spock nodded his head slightly in Kirk's direction, then stood and waited patiently for a response. Spock's hair shone in the filtered light, blue black, like the darkness of space. He was wearing the uniform of a VSA Officer and looked every inch the complete Vulcan: intelligent, calm, and unreachable.

Damn him. Surprise, then rage flooded through the human's gut, rapidly followed by a warmth which almost made his eyes water. He could smell the Vulcan, a sudden whiff of something faint that was umistakably Spock, and undeniably missing from his awareness for far too long. A strict Vulcan diet caused a scent reminescent of cinnamon and burnt oranges. McCoy used to say Vulcans smelled like a Christmas on fire. He could hear McCoy's voice threaten to put lights on Spock and see if he had presents under him in the morning. Those were better days, far better.

"Commander Spock has returnned to assist us with our current dilemma, Jim. It seems he has relevant information regarding those who attacked our outpost."

He licked his too dry lips and turned to look at Nogura. No words had yet passed his lips and he was having trouble deciding what he could say without sounding like a complete and utter fool. "That's good, Sir.," leaked out somehow and Kirk winced at how inane he sounded to his own ears. He took a deep breath and decided a hello to the Vulcan wouldn't kill him or reduce him in rank. He turned back to and faced his former second in command. " Welcome back to Earth, Mr. Spock. I am pleased to see you."

"I am here to fulfill my duty, Admiral."

"I am not here to see you, Admiral," Kirk translated for himself.

"Be seated, Gentlemen." Nogura's voice filtered in through his ragged thoughts.

"You have always been faithful to your duties, Mr. Spock." Kirk almost laughed out loud at his understatement. You were always faithful to me until I screwed up. Did you know this idiot loves you, may even be in love with you, even though I have no idea what that means anymore? No, he couldn't say that, so he smiled faintly and crossed over to take a seat in front of Nogura's carved desk. Kirk's staff called the desk the great divide, for its size and the man who sat behind it.

Soft footsteps followed him and he refused to look as the Vulcan took a seat on this right side. Cinnamon, and a little of Spock's favorite desert fruit, what was it called, ah- 'Kewaat'. Spock had purchased some for him, once. It was incredibly sour and slightly sweet at first bite and then it began to metamorphisize into a bouquet of flavors, all unique and unearthly. He had dreamed every night he ate one and the dreams had been like the fruit: bittersweet. Nogura was looking at him which meant he had missed something. Damn, man focus.

"Sir?"

"I am not in the habit of repeating myself, Admiral. If you can be so kind as to check yourself into this meeting, I can avoid repeating myself, as I see I am now forced to do."

Kirk said nothing. Nogura hated apologies.

"Mr. Spock was on a training and mapping mission with the Vulcan Cruiser Ni Var when our outpost was attacked. The Ni Var picked up a large amount of subspace communication prior to the attack. They were able to clear up the signals and identify the source language, but they did not break through the encryption until it was too late." Kirk sat forward. He knew what Nogura was going to say next, he absolutely knew.

~end of Istannor part~

"It seems the Romulans have decided to toss the Treaty of Algeron out the window."

"It was the Gorn."
































"You did not hear what I said," Spock responded, a little too calmly. "Or perhaps you did not choose to hear." He paused. "I am refusing you, turning you down. I know this is not your experience of the behaviour of potential mates, but I am saying 'no'. You have nothing to offer me. Or rather, it makes no difference now whether you offer it or not. When my blood burns, if not before, I will take it."

"That's not true," Kirk said, and he was startled by how childish his voice sounded, how hurt. "And you can stay here and finish your training..."

"If I finish my training, I will be more powerful, not less. I may have more control, but I will have less need to exercise it." The Vulcan leaned forward, until he was speaking only a few inches from Kirk's face. "If you want a lover, I can recommend several who will be flattered by your interest, human."

"I want you."

"Is the thought of being devoured so appealing?"

"No, Spock..."

"You always have flirted with sexual danger, have you not? Is that the attraction? Do you think that you can resist me? Believe me, not many Vulcan females could have resisted as T'hara did. And you are not Vulcan."

"I don't want to resist you."

"You want to surrender yourself?" There was contempt in the question.

"I want... a partnership. I always thought we had a partnership."

The bitter, searing thunder of Spock's laughter began to build again. Then he stopped himself and reached out a hand to slowly push aside the lock of hair that had fallen across Kirk's brow. "So did I." He kissed Kirk, and the human felt his knees begin to weaken. "Then." The hot Vulcan tongue unlocked Kirk's lips and took possession of his mouth for long minutes. "Before I came to Gol, humiliated, rejected." Spock's hands gripped Kirk's shoulders and bore him to the stone floor of the cell. "And then..." With easy movements of his long, powerful arms, Spock ripped Kirk's shirt in two. "Because you had shown me that I was a fraud, that my logic was a facade, that I..."

Almost another minute passed before Kirk dared to draw breath and say, "Spock? What? What had I shown you, what did you learn?"

The Vulcan's voice was a whisper. "The seductiveness... of surrender."

To Kirk it seemed as if he was lying not on a flat, solid floor of rock, but on a fulcrum, teetering, his fate sent swaying one way and another by tremors of emotion. Spock's pulse was so fast, it seemed almost an audible vibration. His own life was so tenuous, he couldn't detect his own pulse at all. Spock's breath was hot on his face, Spock's hands, brand-hot on his skin.

"Apollo wanted you. He would have devoured you."

"I only wanted you."

"Trelane..."

"He was a child!"

"He was a god, in human terms."

"I only wanted you."

"Garth of Izar, M-5..."

"M-5 was a computer!"

"It wanted you."

Kirk turned his face away from the searing, teasing breath, and Spock slapped him. "And you used their desire against each of them in turn, didn't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I suppose I did."

"And Leonard McCoy, and Montgomery Scott..."

"Oh, come on, Spock..."

"Nyota Uhura, Pavel Chekov, I could go on. Indefinitely. Your officers were massively over-qualified, and underutilised, for the most part. Why did they stay?"

"Loyalty."

"Lust." Kirk's head snapped sideways under the force of Spock's palm. "They wanted... to surrender... to you."

Kirk blinked his eyes open as he felt hot wetness dripping on to his face, and suddenly knew where he had gone wrong. He should never have come to Gol, he should never have let Spock know that he was the supplicant, that he was begging for Spock to return to him. He should have done what he had always done. He should have commanded. He drew in the deepest breath he could, while Spock was leaning on his rib cage. "Let me up."

It worked, Spock sat back on his heels, eyes hooded.

Kirk pulled himself to sitting. "We're leaving."

"Indeed."

"Now."

"I shall pack my datacubes."

And he did. Five minutes later, the cubes stowed in a black satchel, Spock joined Kirk at the door.

~end of Jane Skazki part~

~The End~

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Not sure you read everything? Download a zip file of all the A and B narratives. Someday, when this is all finished, there will be a zip file that includes all the C narratives. Someday... in the way far distant future. I only hope I live to see it. :) The files are in MS Word only (sorry) and in a zip file, so you'll need Aladdin or WinZip or some kind of decompression software to open it, both Aladdin (I know) and WinZip (I think) are available on the web if you do a google or whatever search.

Yours,

Karmen Ghia
December 2002
TOS HTRR inatiated in June 2002 and completed someday in the future.
































Kirk didn't know what to say, as Spock loomed over them. He held onto Pavel, who continued to tremble in his arms, as he stared at his First Officer.

Pavel's unsteady sigh broke the spell, and Kirk said, "Spock, help me get him out of here, and I'll explain everything."

"Indeed," Spock replied, then turned to find a towel. Wrapping it around Pavel's shoulders, he then scooped him up, as if he were a small child, carried him into the bedroom, and gently laid him on the bed. He found the bedspread on the floor, and covered the trembling young Russian before focusing his attention once more on his captain.

Kirk had donned his robe, and was toweling off his hair when Spock asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Spock, it's not what you think." Kirk turned to look at Chekov, who had rolled into a fetal position on the bed and fallen asleep, then said softly, "I found him in my bed when I got back here last night." He hesitated for a moment, then continued, "I tried to stop him ... but he was *very* persuasive."

Spock looked from Kirk to Chekov, then back to Kirk again, before saying, "Although it was a shock to find you with the Ensign, that is not what I was asking." He paused, then continued, "Why didn't you ever tell me that you could ... that is ... I always assumed that you ..." Spock stopped, and turned away; the words would not come.

Hope filled Kirk's mind, as he thought about what was happening here. He had always assumed the Vulcan was unable, or at least unwilling, to express the love they obviously felt for each other, so had refrained from letting his own feelings of love show.

He closed the distance between then, and gently placed his hand upon Spock's shoulder. When the Vulcan didn't flinch from the contact, he pressed closer, and whispered into the delicately pointed ear, "Spock, I love you ... and want to be with you. I just didn't know that you could ..."

His words were cut off, as Spock turned and kissed him with all the passion he had been suppressing for these many years. When they parted for a breath, Spock said, "I've always wanted to do that."

~end of T'Lin part~

~The End~

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Waiting. It was always such for T'Prala. Spock did not require her presence, the presence of his chattel, so logically she would not stay. The house was his as she was his. She made her way to the small outbuilding, constructed for servants, where she stayed.

The following three days were in keeping with her normal routine. She returned to Spock's house every twelve hours, as usual. Either he required her and used her, taking his release upon her, or not. Kaiidth. Her own release she provided for herself, of course, when she had free time.

It was now the third day since Spock's interesting communication with the Earther. Did she feel a slight amount of anticipation for the prospective arrival, the strange alien? She needed to meditate to suppress it. Still, she did take a few moments to watch some Earth holovids first. Afterwards, she needed to take her own release before she could meditate.

Lying on her granite pallet, in light trance, she heard a scrape of gravel on the path outside. She opened her eyes to clear dawn. She rose, already appropriately garbed in the costume of a Gl'prth'ban, crimson jewel glittering in her navel. Quietly she slipped out the door of her hut.

He stopped when he noticed her on the path. He made a point of noticing her a second time, and a third. She placed her hands on the light gauze which covered her breasts, parting it to bare them. The alien turned completely toward her now.

"May I, ummm, help you, Miss ... "

Yes, the rumors she had heard were indeed true. This alien was a male who loved males, yes, but also very much a male who loved females. Many females. And, her struggling emotions told her, he was -- beautiful. The sparkling eyes and wavy hair of this alien bore the color of Vulcan's deserts the way no Vulcan's eyes or hair could. This effect was startling to her and woke even more emotions to do battle with her formerly-iron will.

"I believe your Earth expression is ... 'Howdy, Sailor. New in town?'" T'Prala grabbed the alien's collar and dragged him into her hut. He did not protest.

"Once you've had Human, you never go back." Wasn't that what T'Slut had told her? But she hadn't believed, no, not then. But now ...

He licked her. He loved her and licked her and sucked her and tickled her and rubbed her and scratched her and licked her and sucked her and finally, finally, after she had reached her satisfaction many times, he fucked her. They grabbed the next space shuttle for Earth and lived happily ever after.

Spock counted himself lucky to be rid of them both.

~end of J Juls part~

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"It seems the Romulans have decided to toss the Treaty of Algeron out the window."

It was as bad as Kirk thought.

The admiral put in a recorder chip and activated the screen on the wall behind him. "Starbase 12 was able to record this message before the outpost on Norelae II was destroyed."

The screen came alive with the haggard, frightened visage of the outpost leader. "Started ten minutes no defenses, peaceful farming communi Need help, now." Parts of the small building behind him were on fire and Kirk could see sparks flying from the equipment in front of the man. The leader gave one last frantic look behind him just as the wall exploded in a thunderous boom that shorted out the sound relay. In two seconds the visual shorted out as well. Kirk had seen enough.

"When do I leave?" he asked Admiral Nogura.

"The USS Sitting Bull will be ready to leave space dock in half an hour. She's not the Enterprise but she's fast, has a smart crew and is in top condition. She's yours for this mission - Captain Tucker retired and her new captain hasn't been assigned yet."

"Can I add some of my own men?" Kirk wanted to know, already comprising a list in his head of who was readily available.

"As long as they can report for duty in," Nogura checked his watch, "twenty-eight minutes."

"Understood." Kirk was itchy to be dismissed - he had less than thirty minutes to convince Spock of how he really felt about him, and report to the Sitting Bull. Not exactly as he'd pictured his day going.

"Spock and the Ni Var will be accompanying you, as well as the USS Saipan and the USS Intruder. You'll have time to coordinate plans during the flight to Starbase 12." Nogura stood up and Kirk did the same. He shook the older man's hand. "We want this taken care of and taken care of with the least amount of bloodshed. We hope it's just a renegade Romulan ship, but with them you never can tell. We're not looking for a fight, but if it's war they want, we're not going to just roll over and hand them the Federation."

Kirk managed to nod his head in agreement and then follow Spock out of the admiral's office. His head was still reeling - Spock would be accompanying him? Maybe not the same as being on the same ship, but he'd be there regardless. Kirk's world was quickly spinning away from him at warp speed. Everything he'd pictured, imagined, when he'd woke up that morning was nothing more than a pipe dream now. But he had to try.

"Spock, could you wait up, please," he called out.

The tall Vulcan stopped in the middle of the corridor and tossed a look over his shoulder. "Yes, Captain." Formal. Prim. Proper.

Kirk had a feeling this was going to be harder than he wanted. "Could I talk to you privately?"

"Captain, I'm sure you're aware that we have a schedule to adhere to. We are expected to be leaving spacedock in just-"

"Two minutes, Spock, two minutes of your time. You owe me that."

That eyebrow went up. "I owe you nothing, Captain."

Ouch. It hurt all the more because it was true. "Please." Kirk put his everything into that one word.

The tension seemed to relax some in Spock's shoulders. "Very well, two minutes."

Kirk steered him into an empty office. As soon as the door closed behind him, he turned to the Vulcan. The man who was the other half of his soul. "I screwed up, Spock, big time. You did something I never thought you'd do - confess your feelings for me - and I didn't know how to react. I panicked. I thought to deny how I really felt, was the best thing to do at the time."

"Why?"

"Why?" Kirk ran a hand through his hair. "Hell, Spock, why do we do anything that we do? You've said it yourself on countless occasions, 'Humans are illogical'." His voice started to shake. "All I know is that I love you, Spock, more than I love the Enterprise, more than I love serving in Starfleet, more than I've ever loved anyone else. I cannot image my life without you in it." He kept his eyes focused on his hands. If he looked up . . . well, he didn't think he could take seeing the rejection in Spock's eyes.

A strong hand cupped him under the chin and turned his face upward. Spock's eyes were shining and the corners of his mouth were turned up at the edges. "Was that so hard, Jim?"

Kirk was speechless.

"I would have sought you out - eventually. I wanted to give you time to realize how much you'd 'made a mess of things' as Dr. McCoy would say."

"You . . . you mean-" Kirk couldn't finish.

"I forgive you, if that's what you're asking." His hand caressed Kirk's cheek. "I would forgive you anything."

The love shining in Spock's eyes was almost too much for Kirk to comprehend.

Spock's lips turned up into a half-grin. "We have much to discuss when this mission's over, Jim, wouldn't you agree?"

Kirk nodded, not able to trust his own voice.

Spock cleared his throat and stood up straighter, dropping his hand back to his side. "I fear it's been almost four minutes, instead of the promised two, Captain. We should head for our respective ships with all due haste."

"Yes." Kirk snapped out of it and adjusted his uniform top. "I agree, Spock. All due haste."

Spock raised his eyebrow. "Logically, the quicker we conclude the mission, the quicker we will be able to take leave - together."

Understanding dawned and a wide smile spread over Kirk's face. "Spock, your logic is most astounding."

Lighter in heart and with a two-fold purpose, they exited the room and headed down the hall - side by side.

~end of Cait N part~

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"It was the Gorn."

Okay, maybe he *wasn't* absolutely sure what Nogura was going to say.

"They've evidently decided to expand their territory, and we're in the way."

It was as bad as Kirk thought.

The admiral put in a recorder chip and activated the screen on the wall behind him. "Starbase 12 was able to record this message before the outpost on Norelae II was destroyed."

The screen came alive with the haggard, frightened visage of the outpost leader. "Started ten minutes–zzzzt–no defenses, peaceful farming communi–zzzzzttt–Need help, now." Parts of the small building behind him were on fire and Kirk could see sparks flying from the equipment in front of the man. The leader gave one last frantic look behind him just as the wall exploded in a thunderous boom that shorted out the sound relay. In two seconds the visual shorted out as well. Kirk had seen enough.

"When do I leave?" he asked Admiral Nogura.

"The USS Sitting Bull will be ready to leave space dock in half an hour. She's not the Enterprise but she's fast, has a smart crew and is in top condition. She's yours for this mission - Captain Tucker retired and her new captain hasn't been assigned yet."

"Can I add some of my own men?" Kirk wanted to know, already comprising a list in his head of who was readily available.

"As long as they can report for duty in," Nogura checked his watch, "twenty-eight minutes."

"Understood." Kirk was itchy to be dismissed - he had less than thirty minutes to convince Spock of how he really felt about him, and report to the Sitting Bull. Not exactly as he'd pictured his day going.

"Spock and the Ni Var will be accompanying you, as well as the USS Saipan and the USS Intruder. You'll have time to coordinate plans during the flight to Starbase 12." Nogura stood up and Kirk did the same. He shook the older man's hand. "We want this taken care of and taken care of with the least amount of bloodshed. We hope it's just a renegade Gorn ship, but with them you never can tell. We're not looking for a fight, but if it's war they want, we're not going to just roll over and hand them whatever they want."

Kirk managed to nod his head in agreement and then follow Spock out of the admiral's office. His head was still reeling - Spock would be accompanying him? Maybe not the same as being on the same ship, but he'd be there regardless. Kirk's world was quickly spinning away from him at warp speed. Everything he'd pictured, imagined, when he'd woke up that morning was nothing more than a pipe dream now. But he had to try.

"Spock, could you wait up, please," he called out.

The tall Vulcan stopped in the middle of the corridor and tossed a look over his shoulder. "Yes, Captain." Formal. Prim. Proper.

Kirk had a feeling this was going to be harder than he wanted. "Could I talk to you privately?"

"Captain, I'm sure you're aware that we have a schedule to adhere to. We are expected to be leaving spacedock in just-"

"Two minutes, Spock, two minutes of your time. You owe me that."

That eyebrow went up. "I owe you nothing, Captain."

Ouch. It hurt all the more because it was true. "Please." Kirk put his everything into that one word.

The tension seemed to relax some in Spock's shoulders. "Very well, two minutes."

Kirk steered him into an empty conference room. As soon as the door closed behind him, he turned to the Vulcan. The man who was the other half of his soul. "I screwed up, Spock, big time. You did something I never thought you'd do - confess your feelings for me - and I didn't know how to react. I panicked. I thought to deny how I really felt, was the best thing to do at the time."

"Why?"

"Why?" Kirk ran a hand through his hair. "Hell, Spock, why do we do anything that we do? You've said it yourself on countless occasions, 'Humans are illogical'." His voice started to shake. "All I know is that I love you, Spock, more than I love the Enterprise, more than I love serving in Starfleet, more than I've ever loved anyone else. I cannot image my life without you in it." He kept his eyes focused on his hands. If he looked up . . . well, he didn't think he could take seeing the rejection in Spock's eyes.

"Eloquently put, Captain, but a bit late." The steel in Spock's voice cut through Kirk's heart like a knife. "You had your chance, and you decided it wasn't worth it." Spock cleared his throat and Kirk finally looked up. The Vulcan's eyes were black as obsidian and just as hard. "Your two minutes are up."

With that, he turned on his heel and left the room.

The knife twisted in his heart, and lodged there, probably for the rest of his life. Kirk slid into a chair and dropped his head into his hands. His silent tears fell onto the surface of the conference table, ran down the side, and slowly dropped onto the floor.

~end of Cait N part~

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