The Sum of its Parts 7/10ish
The Sum of its Parts
by JB McDragon
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Action/adventure.
Characters: Spock and Kirk (eventual Spock/Kirk)
Spoilers: Uh. There was a new movie.
Word count: 42,000

Summary:
Broken: Adj. Def. 1. destroyed; made into pieces from a whole.

The Casari homeworld is a place that has yet to become unified. The people are ready to join the Federation, but one rebel faction will do anything to stop it. Anything, including capturing a starship captain and his first officer. With Kirk's memory damaged and Spock's mental shields shattered, escape is unlikely. It won't stop them from trying.


Notes: Many thanks to my beta-reader and font of information (aka, my pusher and dealer), alestar. The fic is NOW COMPLETE, and I'll be releasing a chapter every few days!

Extra note: I'll post a copy of this chapter rated R in one second, for those people who don't want to read sex. ;)



Chapter Seven

Kirk came up from sleep only grudgingly, feeling warm and content for the first time in... well, memory didn't come too easily in a half-dream state, but he thought it had probably been a while. He mumbled a wordless protest against wakefulness in general, and his wakefulness in particular, and breathed in the damp, earthy scent of another person. His arm was thrown haphazardly over their torso, his hand over theirs. He wondered absently who he'd gone to bed with.

That pretty blond from Delta V? Or, wait, weren't they due for shore leave?

Idly, he traced the fingers under his own. Down the outside of one, until he felt the bulge of a knuckle, and then the soft webbing between thumb and index. He stopped and retraced his path, up a long way before reaching fingertips and neatly trimmed nails.

The redhead from that bar the other night. She'd had big hands. No, not her, he decided without much conscious thought. He felt too close to this person.

His touch slid downward, following the line of skin. Whoever it was, he was too sleepy to look. He hoped they'd be willing for a start of the day grope. It was much more fun to take care of morning wood with help from another person. He smiled lazily against cloth, wondering if his face was on the pillow or if she was one of these who liked to sleep clothed. He could take care of clothes. Soon as he got the energy to do so. He was comfortable here, safe enough not to have to be self-sure and arrogant. His fingers kept tracing the outline of hers, lazily seductive.

Heat flushed through him, unexpectedly warm. He traced the next finger, shivering at the feel of skin over skin. At the soft roughness of each joint. He'd never noticed how very sensitive hands were, before...

His companion made a small noise, shifting beside him. Another wash of desire cascaded through Jim, and he moved one leg restlessly. His fingertips dragged over the top of the large hand, sliding down each digit. It felt better on the index. He changed his focus without thinking about it, stroking up one side, down the other. Restlessness washed away sleepiness in gut-tightening lust, and he opened his eyes a slit. He could see that he was pressed against a clothed shoulder, see a throat with an Adam's apple and didn't care that his partner was male, not with the rapidly building demands of his body.

Spock -- Spock? -- opened his eyes, looking hazy and little unfocused. Nothing of the cool, calm reserve lingered in them now. It was really hot. Kirk's arousal rose a notch, and somehow it echoed and came back brighter than ever. He could feel the shudder as he drew his fingertips down the over-large hand again, and heat coiled brightly in his stomach.

He didn't think he'd ever been so horny. His hands ached with the desire to be touched. His body throbbed. With every breath he could feel need spiral into the figure beside him and spark back, a flicker becoming an inferno. He pushed up onto his free elbow, sliding his arm down off Spock's hand and onto the slim boned wrist. He didn't bother supporting his own weight. Pressure and friction were more important now. He leaned in, sprawled half across Spock, chest to chest, running his hand up Spock's arm, feeling the shape of biceps.

And Spock moved, too, both hands sliding down Jim's bare ribcage, leaving trembling, licking flames of desire and arousal in their wake. Strong fingers wrapped around his hips and pulled him over and in so he lay full-length on Spock. They ground together.

"Oh, fuck," Jim managed to gasp, lowering his head and licking a stripe down Spock's neck. It echoed back to him, and for a moment he could have sworn he was underneath, a hot, wet tongue stroking-- He groaned and bit down on the edge of Spock's jaw, feeling that, too.

Spock rubbed up in a way normal human strength couldn't have managed. It pressed them together from their knees to their necks, and created the most delicious friction on his -- Spock's -- their cocks. Kirk nearly whimpered at the double whammy of sensation, and thrust closer -- as if he could get any closer.

One of his knees slid aside, landing on the hard wooden floor. He used it as leverage, that and Spock's hands pulling him in. He buried his face near Spock's neck, breathing sweat and dirt and the odd metallic scent that was Vulcan. He skimmed his hands up under Spock's shirt, shuddering again as soon as their skin touched.

On the softest of exhalations, Spock murmured, "Yes." That single word made Jim's muscles clench. Spock's head turned, mouth pressing up against Jim's jaw, the corner of his mouth--

Jim turned his head to kiss back, lips opening, tongue sweeping in to stroke against Spock's tongue, to slide against warm heat, and all the while Spock's hands were keeping up a grinding rhythm, pulling Jim's hips in to rub them together.

Kirk groaned, the noise swallowed, and scratched his snub nails down a narrow ribcage heavily padded with muscle. The sensation as it echoed back was stardust and alien and human all in one. Spock arched beneath him, one foot bracing against the floor to thrust up harder, and there was no more kissing because it was so much more important to grind and thrust and slide and fuck.

He needed to brace his weight on one hand to thrust harder, but he could drag the other hand down -- and ohgod he could feel that, too, feel the touch of skin on his side, hot breath against his neck, hear his own heartbeat pound slow and fast at the same time -- and hook Spock's pants lower, hook his own lower -- the hands on his hips held him close. He fought against them, struggling to get space between their bodies.

"Spock--" He laughed, just that and nothing else, accompanied with a heartfelt groan. Finally, Spock loosened his grip and Jim pulled away the tiniest bit.

"Wait--" Spock leaned up, fingers tightening again, and Jim felt a flash of arousal-lust-heat- now through the touch on his hips.

"S'okay," he managed to croak, letting his head sink to brush his mouth against Spock's -- all he could manage without plastering them together again (but oh God, that was tempting). One-handed, he yanked his pants down enough to free his cock, yanked Spock's down the same amount, and dropped back down, skin to skin.

It was like touching a live wire. Spock braced both legs on the floor, and distantly Jim felt a flash of pain through his -- not his -- abraded feet. It didn't matter. It was a drop into a tsunami, adding to the whole and changing nothing. Jim couldn't even keep a rhythm up, shuddering and jerking, rubbing up against Spock's prick and it was perfect and brilliant and--

Orgasm was ripped from him, body and soul, smashing him into bits and pieces as he felt it rock through Spock, too, double the intensity, triple the intensity, until he couldn't breathe and he thought his heart might stop because each kept feeding the other sensation.

When he could finally think again, his muscles were still shaking. He felt like a husk, burned through and left. His breath came hard and fast, his lungs ached, sweat damp on his skin. The fingers on his hips flexed once and stopped moving. He could feel Spock's heartbeat -- on his stomach, which was just weird. Breath as unsteady and harsh as his own warmed the side of his head.

Sanity began to sink in, as the Vulcan below him went quietly still.

"Spock?" Jim croaked.

"Yes, Captain?" It was so formal, it almost hurt.

"Do we... do this often?"

"No, Captain."

Jim licked chapped lips, and winced at the moment of pain. Then he pushed away, rolling off of Spock and scooting out from under the blanket, leaning against the wall several feet distant. Spock sat up, staring straight ahead, tugging the blanket up over his lap.

Jim pulled his pants back up and wished he had a shirt. At least that might cover the smears of semen across his stomach. He rubbed at them, and wiped his hand off on the corner of the blanket.

Spock didn't look at him.

"Okay. Well. That was... educational." The best fucking orgasm he'd ever had, is what it was. His toes still tingled. He'd just had sex with a man. He was pretty positive that was a first, because if it wasn't a first he probably wouldn't be so busy freaking the fuck out. "Uh. Have you ever done... that...?"

"No, Captain." Spock was still staring at the damned wall.

"Wow. So that was, um..." What the hell was it? "We're both adults. I mean, sure, this is weird, but we don't have to panic or anything. Let's not be crazy about this." His words pattered out between them, and still somehow didn't either fill the silence Spock was keeping, or bridge the sudden chasm.

"I see no reason to be distressed over what has happened, Captain. And I take full responsibility for--"

"Wait, who's distressed?" Except Spock, obviously, since he wouldn't look anywhere but at the wall, and he was calling Jim Captain again. Jim wasn't distressed. What was there to be distressed about? It was just jerking off. Really. A misunderstanding or something. Just a fluke. No big deal.

"Your rapid speech would indicate--"

"I don't have rapid speech. And anyway, you're the one staring at the damn wall. And what do you mean, you take 'full responsibility'? What kind of shit is that?"

Spock gathered the blanket further around his waist with tiny movements of his fingers. "I believe that my shields being low and us being in skin to skin contact resulted in--"

"We had sex because your touch telepathy made us?" It was hilarious. Too hilarious. Jim fought the urge to laugh hysterically. "But that means one of us had to want it, right? Feed it to the other one and--" And he'd woken up horny. "...Oh god."

Spock continued staring at the wall. The tips of his ears had gone faintly green, as had the line of his jaw.

"You're not gonna puke, are you? Because you look like you might."

"No."

"Okay. Great. Well." Jim looked everywhere but at Spock. "Does touch telepathy normally...?" They'd been sleeping together in the cell and this hadn't happened! ...He thought.

"I believe it was the added mental intimacy of sharing memories. And as I said, my shields were low."

That was oddly reassuring, and weirdly distressing. "We're both adults," Kirk reiterated, as if saying it enough would make everything normal again. "This was just like, a crazy kind of... thing." What had happened to his powers of speech? He used to have them. "You know. It was just... a weird coincidence. No one's fault, exactly." Fuck, had he just managed to Vulcan brain-rape Spock because Spock had given him a memory and Spock's shields were low and Jim had woken up horny? "I mean... you're okay, right?"

"Me?" Spock glanced at him, then away again. "Of course. Physically, there were no injuries, and it seems to have done little to my mental shields. It was, as you said, an accident."

"Right."

"And I take full respon--"

"Would you stop that? Christ, Spock." Jim rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "It takes two people to have, uh, semi-consensual sex." And he certainly hadn't been about to say no. Best orgasm ever. He really wished he hadn't thought that.

"Yes," Spock said tightly, "but if not for my telepathy--"

Oh. "Uh, I started it."

Apparently even Spock couldn't disagree with that. He tipped his head fractionally, but still didn't look over.

"So..." Kirk began again, "we're both adults--"

"You've said that several times, and I fail to see what our age has to do with--"

"We're both reasonable people, who can see that this was just a mistake, and everything's fine. I didn't take advantage of you," thank God, "you didn't take advantage of me." Best orgasm ever. "It doesn't have to change anything." Right. Like that ever worked. But then, he was usually dealing with emotional women, and Spock was... as opposite from all of that as it was possible to get.

Spock's shoulders seemed to relax ever so slightly. "That is logical."

"Yes. Logical. I'm glad we agree. We'll just put this behind us and, uh, never talk about it again."

Spock nodded. It was almost enthusiastic. "Yes. I believe that would be the rational course of action."

"Okay. Great." There was still semen on his stomach, and it was starting to dry. "There was a well out back. I'm gonna go wash."

Spock nodded again, and Jim rose, hurrying out of the room. So fucking awkward.

**

It was illogical to be embarrassed about what had obviously been a simple mistake. Therefore, Spock was not embarrassed. Even so, it was with a sense of relief (because the captain was being logical, too) that Jim didn't bring the subject up, after Jim had finished a cold bath.

Spock took one of his own, for hygiene's sake.

"You want the good news or the bad news?" Jim asked as soon as Spock walked back into the little house. Spock paused in the doorway, refusing to limp on his injured feet or leg, refusing to allow the cold of outside to drive him inside.

"Is there a reason I might prefer one over the other?" he asked curiously.

Jim looked at him, gave a quiet little laugh, and said, "No. The good news is, there's plenty of cans of food. Looks like they were preparing for a siege. Further good news is that there's plenty of alcohol, which means you, at least, can say hydrated." Jim paused, frowning inwardly. "You can stay hydrated with alcohol, right?"

"I will not become inebriated, if that's what you're asking, but alcohol is not known for its hydrational properties."

Kirk frowned. "Oh. Right. Well, the bad news is there's no clothing." Jim looked sadly at the pile of discarded bandages that used to be his shirt.

"I suggest we make use of the blankets, Captain." As if Jim's silence had released him, Spock stepped fully inside. "While this is a desert and we need not worry about precipitation, it is still quite cold outside."

"I'd noticed," Jim intoned dryly. "If they wanted us to get away and call the Enterprise and the ambassador, you think they'll just let us go?"

Spock knelt beside the lighter of the two blankets, folding it quickly. He was dressed again, or as dressed as he could get, with one pant leg ripped off. Kirk was wandering around in his heavy weight pants with the heavier blanket draped over his shoulders. "I doubt it. They have no reason to believe we'll comply with their plans. At the very least, I would expect they'll be trying to keep us observed."

Jim sighed. "Yeah, I thought you might say something like that. So. Thoughts on what to do now?"

Spock stood, the folded blanket draped over one arm. "If my calculations are correct, there should be a settlement a day's walk from here. I suggest we empty the bottles of alcohol, fill them with water, and begin walking."

Jim looked up toward the hole in the ceiling and the sun far above. A pale shadow draped down over the line of his throat, as if accentuating the way skin slid over his Adam's apple, then down collarbones and a well developed chest.

Spock only noticed because the captain was half naked, and likely to become cold.

"Our day's halfway over already," Jim pointed out.

"Then perhaps we should begin moving without delay."

**

"How different are Vulcans and humans? I mean, we can't be too different, right? Your mom managed to get pregnant with you..." Jim trailed off, glancing over at the man beside him. The sun was high in its orbit, a tiny speck of light washing down onto the world and coating it all in pale red. It was really dreary. And it was cold. Walking at least kept them moving, but he could still see the fine shiver that had picked up in Spock's fingertips and hadn't gone away.

An expression touched Spock's face, or maybe the very edge of an expression. Like being brushed by butterfly wings, Jim wasn't sure if he'd actually seen it or not. He imagined he had, though. "I was... unexpected."

Jim's eyebrows shot up. "How'd that happen?"

"It was not thought that Vulcans and humans would cross-breed without great scientific help."

Jim mulled that over for a while. "I bet not many accidental births happen on Vulcan."

"Of course not. Children are regarded as a great boon. The only sure way to continue a species."

"Even half-human children?" As soon as the words were out, he wished he could snatch them back. But Spock only inclined his head wordlessly and said nothing. "Well, obviously you were wanted." Oh God, he really hoped so.

"My mother once told me I was a, 'gift from God.' She was a theist." He said this almost apologetically.

Kirk grinned under the hood of his blanket. "How irrational."

"Precisely."

Jim chuckled and shifted his blanket to try and cover more skin. The desert marched on in front of them. At least all those damn boulders were gone. "Tell me how we met. Did we get along okay?"

"Not... exactly, Captain."

That was interesting. The pause more than anything; he was learning that when Spock paused, he was either calculating or trying to phrase something delicately. Tact from a man who didn't believe in emotion: it was an interesting juxtaposition. "Did we hate each other?" Jim asked, almost gleefully.

"I do not hate."

"Did I hate you?"

"I believe there was some dislike on your part."

Kirk kicked at a small rock. This was like trying to interrogate a prisoner. "Any chance we'll get to a settlement before the sun sets?"

"Not unless a transport comes by."

"And that's not likely?" He didn't really need it answered. There'd been no sign of any roads or any civilization since they'd passed beyond the fence that went around the farmhouse they'd slept in. He asked anyway, just for something to talk about.

"I calculate the odds as one thousand, two hundred and eight to one."

Jim stopped walking. Spock continued on another few steps, then paused and turned to look back. "One thousand, two hundred and eight?"

"To one, sir."

Jim stared at him, then barked out a laugh and started walking, keeping distance between them. They'd had at least four feet between them all day. Ever since -- well, pretty much since they'd woken up so spectacularly (but Jim wasn't going to think about that). "What's the likelihood of the Enterprise managing to randomly beam us aboard?"

"Fifteen million, three hundred and ninety-five thousand, seven hundred and twenty-six to one." Spock hesitated, then added, "Approximately, with a point seven variable for who is leading the search and how long it took them to realize we're missing."

"Of course." Jim grinned. "And the odds that we'll find someone who can help us communicate to the ship without getting caught again?"

"Two hundred and fifty-three to one."

Somehow, that didn't seem so bad. "And the odds that we'll have sex again?" He had not actually just asked that. He really, really hadn't.

Spock responded as if it were a perfectly acceptable question. "One thousand, nine hundred and twenty-six to one."

Jim blinked. "What?"

Spock repeated it.

"No, I mean -- not like, eighty million to one? I mean, one thousand, nine-hundred and whatever--"

"Twenty-six."

Kirk waved a hand, and his whole blanket flapped. "--that's pretty low."

"Still highly unlikely."

"Yeah, but not as unlikely as being found by the Enterprise and randomly beamed aboard."

Spock conceded the point with a nod. "We will likely be staying out here another night, Captain, and as we have no more than blankets and body heat..."

That was annoying. Jim scowled and kicked at another rock. "So, wait, you're telling me that you'd only sleep with me again if I got horny and overwhelmed your touch-telepathy because we were cuddling?" That had been a fucking good orgasm, damn it, and he was positive that Spock had felt it, too.

"My shields are feeling quite recovered, so in all likelihood you will not be able to overwhelm them again. And I will be on guard against it."

Jim kicked another rock. "Well... good. But -- not that I want to -- but there must be some other reason you'd have sex with me. I mean, that was a pretty low probability. Compared to zero." How had they gotten on this topic, again?

"Taking into account all possible reasons that you and I might ever have sexual relations again..." Spock trailed off, his eyebrows drawn low over his eyes. Jim watched him, enthralled. "I calculate that the likelihood is closer to one hundred and three to one. But that is taking into consideration even the inhibition-lowering spores reported to have been found on Omicron Ceti III."

"Ah-HA!" Jim cried, darting forward into Spock's path. Spock stopped and looked at him expectantly. "So you admit that if it weren't for your inhibitions, you would have sex with me again!"

"Actually, Captain, I was thinking that if it weren't for your inhibitions, you might--"

"I'm totally straight," Jim hastened to affirm.

"I see. Then perhaps one hundred and fifteen to one."

Jim eyed Spock, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's not a very different number."

"Being completely heterosexual did not stop you this morning, Captain."

"Stop me? It didn't stop you, either!" Jim tensed when Spock stiffened, and scuttled quickly out of the way when Spock's skin washed an odd shade of green. "Are you about to vomit?"

"No, Captain."

"You just turned green."

"Indeed."

And that was apparently the end of the conversation. Jim wrapped his blanket more firmly around himself, gave Spock a suspicious look, and, aware of the idiotic sight they made standing in the desert arguing, turned and continued on.

They kept the four feet of space between them.

**

"Do I have a girlfriend?"

Spock answered with the same implacability he'd answered all the other questions of the day. "No, Jim." He'd given up on creating professionalism with titles when Jim had started calling him Peaches.

"Why not?"

"I believe you did not want any of the crew to feel their positions would be in jeopardy or dependent upon consorting with you." It was completely rational. Spock had approved.

"Huh."

There was a period of quiet, broken only by their cautious footsteps through the lengthening shadows. Spock watched where he stepped, unable to feel his toes. They'd wrapped as many layers around his feet as they could, but still the cold from the ground soaked upward. The watery sun did little to warm anything. His fingers had frozen into position, clutching the blanket around his shoulders in a vain effort to retain body heat. Vulcans were meant for warm deserts, not cold ones.

"Do you have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?" The last had particular emphasis.

Apparently Jim still had no whisper of memory. Spock refused to be bothered by it. "I do not. I was seeing a Lieutenant Uhura, but as she had needs I could not meet it seemed illogical to continue." Jim looked at him very oddly, both eyebrows arching upward. Pale blue eyes flicked down toward Spock's hips. Spock simply waited, certain that nothing on Jim's mind would remain unspoken for long.

"I know first hand humans and Vulcans are sexually compatible..."

"Indeed we are. Her needs were in the form of emotional support I was unable to provide."

"Ah," Jim said with great authority. "You were a cold fish."

Spock glanced at him, unfamiliar with the colloquialism. He filed it away to look up later.

"Are you sure we didn't have sex before?"

"I am."

"Not even in that cell? There was only one bed. And it was an awfully small bed."

"We did not have sexual relations either in the cell or before." Spock refused to let Jim's questions make him uncomfortable. If there was one thing he'd learned in dealing with Jim, it was that any expression of emotion was seen as encouragement.

"I think we spooned."

Spock did his best to guess at the meaning of that, then finally had to ask. "I am unfamiliar with the term."

"You know. One person cuddles around the other, like cupped spoons?" Jim grinned at him, and he suspected that despite his best attempts, Jim was enjoying his minor emotional responses.

"Ah. We did spoon, but platonically, for warmth."

"Huh." They walked in silence. The small, red sun sank lower toward the horizon. They'd stopped for food a few hours before, pried from the tins carried in the pockets of the jailor's pants, and had enough left for another meal. It would be enough to get them to a settlement: Spock calculated that it would take them only five more hours to reach the nearest village.

The dustcloud behind them made him wonder if they had another five hours. Without shelter, though, all they could do was keep moving.

After another few hundred yards, Jim spoke again. "Did I ever hit on you before?"

"I--" Spock stopped, unsure suddenly if he'd have noticed. "Not to my knowledge."

"You don't think that's weird?"

Spock considered it. "Possibly, as you do 'hit on' everything, from what others say. I'm afraid I have trouble discerning flirtatious behavior in humans with simple friendly behavior."

Jim stared at him. "Not that, Spock!" he cried. "Don't you think it's weird that you can't tell! I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have hit on a man!"

Spock looked at him, baffled and trying not to be. "Then why were you asking?"

"Never mind," Jim muttered.

The wind, dead all day long, was starting to pick up again. Spock pulled his blanket closer around himself.

Jim broke the silence, sounding mournful. "Do I ever get laid? No wonder I jumped you."

Spock wondered if Jim thought of anything except sex. It was getting harder and harder to control his blood flow, to keep from flushing at the memory of that morning. The gentle touch of fingers sliding along his, murky thoughts of arousal... He blocked those off quickly. "I believe you take full advantage of shore leave."

"For all the good it does me. I can't fucking remember it..."

Spock tried to calculate how many days it had been since the shirai had been used, but his own black-out in the middle, and his subsequent interrogation, made that impossible. He was, however, certain that if memories were going to return, they should have begun to appear at a great rate by now. "Do you remember nothing?"

"Only what you gave me back last night."

"Hmm."

Though darkness was falling fast enough that he could no longer make out Jim's features, he could almost hear the very human smile. "Not a good sign, huh?"

"I'm afraid not. Perhaps--" He paused, rethinking his own words.

"What? I don't suppose you could pull them out of my head for me, could you?"

What he'd been about to suggest froze on his tongue. He could, in theory, pull images out of Jim's mind for him. Possibly jump-start the link between consciousness and stored memories. A true mind-meld, not any of the partial things he did to read thoughts, might break down those barriers--
It was a risk. It was meant only for the most committed of bonds. He didn't have enough practice. Human minds were very delicate. There were cases of warriors bonding together in the history of Vulcan, but that was in the barbaric ages, when they had allowed emotions to push them into war. "No, Jim," he said at last. "I can't." Then he continued before Jim could probe, knowing how the captain tended to grab hold of an idea and refuse to let it go. "But perhaps, if you searched your mind now... the one memory did return last night. That would indicate that others might."

"Yeah." Jim sounded glum.

They walked on in silence. The cold grew. Spock watched his footing all the more carefully. The tips of his ears hurt. He ignored that, as he ignored the pain stabbing up from his feet and the agony in his leg. Pain was a mental weakness.

Jim's breathing hitched. Spock glanced over as Jim stumbled and fell to one knee.

"I -- I remember--" The words choked off, memory unspoken. Jim's hand curled into a fist against the dirt, eyes closing tightly. His breath became labored.

Spock knelt beside him, one hand flat on Jim's back. Even with cloth between them, he could feel the mental torment radiating out, the fight that Jim refused to lose.

Spock could feel what that fight was doing to Jim's body.

"Let it go," Spock said firmly.

Jim shook his head once. The blanket fell to one side. Spock could see muscles standing hard against Jim's neck.

"Let it go," he said again, with more intensity. "This is killing you. Stop!"

It was too late. Arms and legs buckled. Jim's eyes rolled up into his head and he nearly sagged forward, facefirst into the dirt, except that Spock caught him and rolled him sideways.

There was nothing more to be done, as the seizure took over. Spock held him, tried to make him as comfortable as possible, and watched as his captain and friend convulsed.

********


Continue to Chapter Eight

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