Enhanced Part 1

"No date tonight?"

"Seems not." Lieutenant Sulu leaned across the table to take the mug of coffee Lieutenant Uhura had just carried from the replicators.

The rec room was quiet. A film buff from engineering had arranged a 'screening' of something called 'The Rocky Horror Show' in one of the cargo bays, but a minor disaster on the bridge had delayed the early evening shift change and Sulu, along with his colleagues, had missed the start. Their plans for the evening in disarray, the two lieutenants found themselves at a loose end. They slid into chairs at opposite ends of the table and nursed their drinks.

"So how are you these days?" Sulu asked after a moment.

Uhura gave him a severe look. "Fine. You?"

"Fine."

"I suppose Pavel's eating dinner with Myfanwy?"

Sulu nodded.

Uhura shook her head. "It's weird. I thought I liked her when she first came aboard, but since she and Pavel have been... an item, she's really started to grate on me."

"She's completely incompetent," Sulu agreed. "And off duty... He sure knows how to pick them."

"Perhaps it's her legs," Uhura speculated.

"They're no nicer than your legs, Lieutenant."

She spluttered into her coffee. "I hope you're not suggesting I'm jealous, Mister Sulu. Chekov can date whomever he likes. It's none of my business. She's just a... a zero. I can't imagine why Starfleet ever accepted her. But still, it doesn't matter to me."

"She's a klutz too. I've never seen anyone so clumsy."

Uhura dipped her spoon idly into her coffee and wound it around a couple of times. "Tell me, Hikaru, why are we sitting here bitching about Pavel's girlfriend?"

"Because she's such an easy target?" Sulu suggested. Uhura looked unconvinced.

"Because at least he *has* a girlfriend?" the helmsman tried.

"Mmm..." Uhura trailed her spoon across the table, tracing a line of coffee on the plastic surface.

"I thought you and Gaudi had something going. What happened to that?"

"I don't know. I really thought we were going somewhere. Then it... just fell apart. How about you and Naylor? Oh, she's getting that transfer, isn't she?"

"She requested it."

"What?" Uhura glanced up and looked her friend in the face for the first time. "Really? I had no idea. She isn't going because of..."

"Something I did? I don't think anything I did rated highly enough to make any difference."

They were silent for a moment.

"Well, Pavel still has Myfanwy." Sulu's tone was artificially bright.

"The cretinous Celt," Uhura said.

"Nyota!" He sounded genuinely shocked.

"I can't help it. When she sits and looks at him with those eyes like underdone poached eggs, I just want to throttle her with her own pantihose. I heard her call him 'Pasha bach' yesterday. God, it makes me want to throw up."

She followed the direction of Sulu's gaze back to the spoon in her hands, the spoon whose handle she'd just folded back on itself. "There's... I don't know... something irritating about her," she said weakly.

"Nobody else seems to think so."

"Oh, for heaven's sake." She hooked the spoon over the rim of the mug as if she'd always intended to make the modification, and walked out, leaving Sulu alone at the table.

 

The helmsman sat there for a couple of minutes, thinking of various things that he could be doing, like updating the training schedules for the new rotation of ensigns. They were an average bunch. None of the four assigned for bridge experience had the spark that had instantly marked out Pavel Chekov as a born navigator. And, Sulu admitted to himself, none of them was quite as entertaining. The full Vulcan ensign, T'Neel, had attached herself to Spock as a kind of fifth limb, as if she didn't quite trust the humans to instruct her correctly, but the rest were... as bland as Myfanwy Jenkins was grating.

Chekov, Sulu found himself thinking, had probably been more than a little grateful to T'Neel for usurping his place as Science-Officer-in-training. She definitely had the acolyte demeanour. Silent and sexless.

He looked up at the sound of the rec room doors opening, and realised Chekov, sans Myfanwy, had just entered.

"Hi, kid," he said absently, waving the ensign over to join him, and waiting for the slavic grimace this form of address normally provoked. Chekov seemed unaware that Sulu had said anything. He sat heavily on the chair Uhura had just left and stared dispiritedly at the drying coffee rings.

"Is Myfanwy on call tonight?"

Chekov looked up and blinked at him. "No."

"I thought..."

"No, she is not on call. She..."

"You haven't had a row, have you?" For some reason, Sulu felt a tightening in his chest as he said this. The prospect of dealing with a Chekov thwarted in love, he reassured himself, was enough to worry anyone.

"It's not... working," Chekov informed him succinctly.

"Oh well, there are other fish in the sea. Myfanwy wasn't exactly..." He hesitated, not sure whether now was a good time to repeat Uhura's slanders. "...your type," he finished tactfully.

Chekov frowned. "What are you saying?"

"She has purple hair," Sulu pointed out, accurately enough, "and when she goes on shore leave her clothes are held together with safety pins."

"Mi..." Chekov stopped. The most glaring impediment to their relationship had always been his inability to say the woman's name. "We are still friends."

"Oh. So what went wrong?"

"What I said. It just was not working out. In some ways." The Russian shrugged. "Probably I am too busy."

"Too busy for what?" Sulu asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He really couldn't tell whether Chekov wanted to be drawn on this or not. There were so many 'off-limits' topics at the moment.

Again, a shrug. "Anything. Probably I'm too tired."

The clamp round Sulu's chest was joined by a cold sinking sensation in his gut. This was beginning to sound hauntingly familiar. He shook himself. He was just projecting his own problems onto the Russian. "Maybe you just don't really fancy her. Perhaps you were never meant to be anything but friends."

Chekov shook his head. "No. I find her attractive. At least, I think I do..."

Sulu frowned.

"Hikaru... Can we... talk?"

"About..?"

Chekov glared at him. "You know what I want to talk about."

"Well... I thought I knew that none of us wanted to talk about that."

Sulu adjusted the position of his chair unnecessarily. The matter to which both men were having difficulty referring was the unexpected early sexual crisis of the ship's half-Vulcan first officer, Spock. He should, according to Vulcan norms, have been free from the symptoms of the potentially deadly pon farr for a full seven years after his betrothed had rejected him and forced him to fight to the death for possession of her, but either as a result of his half-Human heritage, or because the mating urge hadn't been properly quenched by combat, he'd found himself experiencing the plak tow, or blood fever, a mere twelve months later, while working on an isolated observation post with three of his fellow Enterprise officers.

The situation had been resolved without any physical ill effects when all three humans had volunteered to participate in group sex with Spock. The experience had, however, created a lingering awkwardness between the four people concerned.

"So what's the problem?" Sulu asked, leaning back in his chair and adjusting his body language to express acceptance and willingness to listen.

"Don't do that."

"What?"

Chekov gestured at him impatiently. "That 'come tell your big brother all your problems' act."

"I didn't know I was," Sulu lied. "Let me get us something to drink. Tea?"

"No. I want to say this now. I haven't... since Alpha Nine Four. I want to... I think I want to, but I haven't."

Sulu bit his lip.

"Made love. I haven't made love to anyone," Chekov clarified. He folded his arms and glared at Sulu as if the helmsman was personally responsible for this state of affairs.

"Let me get this straight. You mean you've tried and you couldn't?"

"Yes. That is what I said."

"Well, I... have you talked to Doctor McCoy?"

"No. Yes..."

"Oh. I get it. You went and told him you felt off colour and hoped he'd diagnose everything else without being told?"

"I am glad you find this amusing..."

"No. I don't. Sit down." Sulu held his breath while Chekov subsided into the chair again. "But he said you were okay, healthy, based on what you *did* tell him?"

"Yes. He... he asked if I was okay, if..."

"And you told him you and Myfanwy were getting along just fine. You are an idiot, Chekov. How can he help you if you won't tell him what's worrying you?"

"How easy would you find it, to tell someone..."

"Slightly more difficult than you're finding it right now," Sulu admitted.

Chekov frowned. "You mean..."

"I mean, at least you've told *me*. Up until now, I haven't told anyone. And... I have no right to speculate, but I suspect... we're not the only ones with this problem."

"You mean Mister Spock..."

"No. Hell, how would I know? How would *he* know, before the next time? I meant Nyota."

"But..."

"I think she's... lost interest too, like you. Uh, and me."

Chekov assumed a glazed expression, as if he was reviewing the evidence for this claim.

"Chekov, no one knew you were having problems. Except Myfanwy, I suppose..." Sulu wondered briefly if the purple hair wasn't part of the problem. It clashed so excrutiatingly with the yeoman's red uniform.

"I suppose... being raped by an alien is traumatic," Chekov suggested hesitantly.

Sulu stared at him. "He didn't... he never touched *you*, Chekov. I mean, like that. I made sure he didn't."

The ensign's puzzled frown drew his eyebrows almost into contact over his nose. "That... isn't what I remember."

"And it wasn't rape. Don't say that. We all agreed we'd do it."

"Well..." Chekov noticed the contorted spoon for the first time. He picked it up and looked at it. "Well, then..."

"You felt what he was doing to me, through the mindlink. That's all. And it wasn't rape, Chekov. You agreed. We all agreed."

"If I could feel it as if it was happening to me, through the link, how do you know you were not feeling it as if it was happening to you, when really it was happening to me?"

It was Sulu's turn to frown. "I just know. From the... the geometry." He shrugged and smiled feebly.

"So do I," Chekov said flatly. "And if it wasn't rape, and therefore was not traumatic, why am I... why are *we* having problems now?"

"I didn't say it wasn't traumatic," Sulu corrected him hastily. "That's a different thing entirely. All I'm saying is that legally, and morally, you can't say it was rape. You wouldn't want to, would you?"

"No."

"Good."

"But..."

"But you're worried because now you can't seem to get yourself back together."

Chekov nodded quickly.

"I've... uh, I've been wondering if it's a side effect of the mindmeld. I mean, Spock's not all Vulcan. He must have a little - more than a little - human male in him. What if he's fighting all the time to suppress his human sexual response, and we've somehow got caught up in that? What do you think?"

"How would I know what to think? All I know is that Mi..."

"Yeah, well. Myfanwy Jenkins isn't exactly Miss Universe."

"She's very nice. And she likes me..."

Sulu grimaced. "If you say so."

Chekov stood up, beginning to look more than a little irritated. "You know, Lieutenant, if it was not completely ridiculous, I would say that you sound jealous."

"Jealous?" Sulu shook his head. "Believe me, you're welcome to her."

Chekov smouldered briefly, then he scowled and turned to go.

"Look, hang on a moment. I didn't mean to..."

"It really doesn't matter," Chekov snapped, without turning back. "Neither I, nor Mi... we don't need your approval."

Watching his friend striding away across the rec room, Sulu was seized by remorse. He leapt up and ran after him, catching up to him by the door. "Chekov, wait..."

Chekov quickened his pace and Sulu caught at his sleeve. The navigator swung round, confronting Sulu with a very hostile expression.

"Maybe we should go see Doctor McCoy together. What do you think?"

"I can deal with this on my own."

"Pav, listen..."

"I have listened. All you want to do is insult my girlfriend."

"No, I..."

Finding himself talking to no one, Sulu pressed his lips together and thought of a few choice insults he could have used if that had truly been his intention.

 

***

 

"I don't believe this!" Lieutenant Uhura held up the scalloped and embossed square of ivory card, so that the gothic gold lettering caught the light.

Christine Chapel laughed at her. "Why? They make a sweet couple."

"No, they don't. Oh, they may be all over each other in public, but that's as sweet as it gets."

Chapel cocked her head inquisitively on one side. "What makes you say that?"

Uhura drew a breath. Sulu probably should never have told her about Chekov's problem with Myfanwy. "He can't possibly like her."

"Why not? For heaven's sake, Nyota, she's pretty -- I mean, underneath everything -- intelligent..."

"But she's not! She's a dishrag. And he's too young to be getting engaged. I bet she bullied him into it."

Chapel laughed again. "Isn't that what women have been doing all down the ages? And if they can't get what they want by talking..."

"Well, I know she hasn't been offering him *that*," Uhura said sharply.

"Oh? How do you know?"

"If she asks me to be a bridesmaid, I'll strangle her," the lieutenant said, deftly changing the subject.

"From what I overheard, Myfanwy's planning on asking Olwyn and Briony, but I wouldn't mind..."

Uhura frowned at the slightly dreamy expression that had disconcertingly come over her friend's face.

"I think it's very romantic, especially if they haven't... you know. That's so... romantic."

"I think it's downright stupid," Uhura contradicted.

"It depends. Sometimes, it would be necessary."

"Chris, you're not thinking about... him again, are you?"

"Well, I'm not sure if I'm imagining it, but he's been a lot more relaxed with me lately. Well, almost. For Spock."

Uhura swallowed. She wasn't sure if Chapel had ever been told what had happened at the observation post. She hadn't observed any jealousy from her friend, but she'd told herself the whole incident had been simply an act of sexual 'first aid'. There had been no cause for jealousy. "Maybe if he feels you're more relaxed with *him*... it could just be that," she suggested.

"I don't know. I wondered if it was just because he was getting older. Or maybe if he'd started to think about finding someone... maybe another Vulcan woman..."

Chapel's voice tailed off into the depressed tone that had usually accompanied any discussion of the first officer in the past, but Uhura hardly noticed. In her mind's eye, she could see again the face of T'Pring, as it had first been revealed to them on the ship's viewscreen. A totally unexpected surge of anger -- spiteful, petty anger -- overcame her. And she'd never realised before just how much alike T'Pring and Myfanwy were. They were both petite, with slightly turned up noses and baby-doll mouths. Under its current luminous purple glow, Myfanwy's hair was even the same dark brown as T'Pring's, long and straight. It was probably an over-reaction to attribute the same murderous motives to both of them, but still, she couldn't help wondering just *why* Myfanwy Jenkins was in such a hurry to get her claws into Chekov.

"Although he has no reason to hurry. He has another six years to work something out," Chapel was saying.

Uhura gasped.

"What?" Chapel asked anxiously.

"What if..." The lieutenant clamped her hand over her mouth.

"Is something wrong?"

"I bit my tongue. Does... does everyone know about the engagement?"

"I don't honestly see how anyone on the ship could still be in the dark. When he accepted and she started dancing on the rec room tables..."

Uhura was already on her feet. "I've got to stop him."

"But why? Why shouldn't Chekov get engaged to Myfanwy, if he wants to?"

"Not Chekov, Chris. I've got to stop Spock."

 

***

 

James Kirk was tired, and confused. He disliked both sensations. They intensified each other. Spock, however, showed no sign of shifting from the end of his captain's bed. It was most unlike him to take a seat without being expressly invited, and he'd never normally choose so informal a perch, but the Vulcan seemed somewhat distracted this evening. He clasped his hands in his lap and held them rigidly together, as if he could control some inner demon like that.

"Can't you give me any idea what the problem is?" Kirk asked, yet again.

Spock stared at the ceiling.

"It's not something to do with what happened the other day, on the observation post..."

"Yes."

"Oh." Kirk suddenly decided to sit down too. He pulled the chair out from his desk, and sat facing his friend and first officer. "It's not... happening again, is it?"

"I am not entering pon farr, if that is what you mean."

"Then... what?"

"Ensign Chekov proposes to marry Yeoman Jenkins."

"I know. He had to ask my permission."

"And you gave it."

Kirk frowned. "I had no reason to refuse. You weren't worried that... that what happened between you will affect him in some way? Because if you are, he should maybe talk to McCoy, get some counselling, or..."

"It is not permitted. He is mine."

"What the hell are you talking about, Spock?"

"Rather, he is ours. And we are his. It is not permitted. She cannot have him." Spock's expression was very composed.

"Spock..."

"You must tell him, it is not permitted."

"Spock, it's really none of your business, or mine, who he marries. And if this is some hangover from your pon farr, then maybe it's you who needs counselling."

Spock stood. "Kirk, you are the head of the family here. You have the authority. You must tell him, it is not permitted." The Vulcan swept out of the cabin. Kirk stared after him.

***

Sulu entered the turbolift, his mind on the adjustments Mister Scott was planning for the warp interlink today.

"Hi, Hikaru. You haven't RSVP'd yet."

He suddenly realised who was standing across from him, her arms full of data cassettes.

"Not that we'd throw you out if you didn't, but I know my Pasha..."

"He's not *your* Pasha."

Myfanwy blinked at him. "Did I say something wrong, Lieutenant?" she asked uncertainly.

"He is not yours, and you may not have him. It is not permitted." Sulu frowned. His mouth had suddenly taken on a life of its own, a rather frightening one.

Again, she hesitated. Then she smiled. "This is a joke, right? Some kind of 'brotherhood of the bridge' thing?"

Sulu stepped forward and shoved her up against the wall of the lift car, all the time feeling as if he was standing just behind his own shoulder and watching himself behave in this outrageous manner.

He scowled down at her. "Listen to me, woman. He doesn't want you. He belongs to us. No matter how far you go, how hard you work to seduce him away from us, it won't work. He is bonded to us." He hesitated. "If you try to take him, we will fight you, to the death if necessary."

He released her and she shook her uniform back into place. Then she stuck her chin in the air. "Lieutenant, if you ever lay a hand on me again, in the course of duty or otherwise, I will remove your balls with a hacksaw. I don't have a clue what you're talking about, but I suggest you don't raise the subject next time we meet. Lift, halt at next deck."

***

Chekov stared at his friends, who had come to see him unannounced.

"How's Myfanwy?" Sulu asked, as he followed Uhura closely into the small cabin.

"Furious with you. I'm furious with you. She should report you to the captain so he could be furious with you too. What did you think you were doing?"

"I don't think I was doing anything. It wasn't me."

"Oh. Sorry. How stupid I am sometimes. You'd been taken over by aliens which forced you to terrorise lone yeomen in turbolifts. Of course, it happens all the time."

"Chekov, shut up," Uhura broke in.

Chekov turned his attention to her. "And why are you here, Lieutenant? What has this to do with you? I do know that Yeoman Jenkins finds you unhelpful, abrupt and sarcastic, but..."

"Can't you see what's happening?"

"Of course I can see. I just don't understand why the two of you have decided to make my girlfriend as miserable as you possibly can. I don't see why it should matter to you if I get married, or what I do. I simply wish..."

"Chekov, stop it. Do you really love Myfanwy?"

"Yes!"

"Have you been to bed with her yet?"

The ensign shot a look at Sulu that could have corroded duranium hull plates. He didn't answer.

"You are planning to marry a woman whom you don't find in the least sexually attractive," Uhura told him. "Is that fair to her, or even to you?"

"I *do* find her attractive. We simply haven't... We will sort it out, as soon as..."

"As soon as it's too late to change your mind? Pavel, you're mad."

Chekov abruptly sat down on his bunk, looking more stubborn than angry. "This is none of your business."

"Yes, it is. It's as much our problem as yours. You're just... finding out first." Uhura turned away to help them all to drinks from Chekov's stash of vodka. He watched her, but didn't object.

"Finding out what, exactly?" he asked coolly.

"That you don't want to be married to Myfanwy, even though she seems to be exactly the kind of woman you always planned to marry. She's lively, intelligent..."

"Please, lieutenant, you don't have to say this. I know you hate her."

"I'm trying to be objective here, Pavel. We both know I loathe her with a loathing that's beyond all reason. I've been trying to work out why. The last time I felt like this, I was about twelve and had just discovered my so-called best friend was riding home with the boy I fancied most in the whole universe."

Chekov accepted the glass of vodka but didn't drink it. He chewed his lip. "I don't understand."

"No, and neither did I until Sulu told me what he'd said to Myfanwy just now. I'm jealous. Because you're mine. And she's taking you away from me."

The ensign's mouth fell open. "I am *not* yours."

Uhura slid her own glass onto the desk and pulled the chair round so she could sit facing Chekov. "Yes, you are. I'm sorry, sugar, but Spock was wrong. You're mine, and I'm yours, and Hikaru's here, and Spock's, I assume. We just haven't seen him being affected by all this."

"The bond worked, even though there were four of us." Sulu sat down on the bed next to Chekov, close but not touching. "We're linked. For good or ill, till death do us part. I don't suppose it's legal or anything, but... well, I just know it's in place, it's there. I couldn't be bothered to have sex if I was given a free pass to the best brothel on Wrigley's. And it's not just me. Nyota says it's been the same for her, ever since Alpha Nine Four. Hasn't it?" He looked over to address the question to his colleague, and she nodded.

Chekov threw back the whole glass of vodka and blinked a couple of times. "No," he said, once his throat had unseized. "This problem I have with... that we have, it's not important. It just takes time. I was more... unsettled by what happened... with Mister Spock... than I realised." He watched Uhura shaking her head. "Okay," he said, "you don't believe that I love Mi... her, but I am telling you both that I don't love you. I have no wish to be involved with either of you like that, and as for Mister Spock... well," he coughed nervously. "It's ridiculous. Isn't it?"

Sulu and Uhura looked at each other, and she gestured for the helmsman to speak.

"We think that because Spock is a far more powerful telepath than any of us, and more experienced, his control over his emotions is damping down ours. Our libidos are artificially depressed."

Chekov nodded furiously. "Oh, yes, now that makes sense, of course! But that doesn't prove anything, except maybe that Starfleet should post us to a different ship to allow us to recover!"

"You want to be transferred?" Sulu demanded, but Uhura shushed him with an impatient gesture.

"No, honey, listen. Spock is a touch telepath. If we're not bonded to him, then he can't have any emotional impact on us. So..."

"So you think you have proved in this way that the bond does exist?" Chekov snapped back impatiently.

"Think about it, Pavel. Are you really so upset about what we did together that you can't perform three months later? Honestly?"

He shrugged.

"And do you really love Myfanwy?"

Chekov opened his mouth to insist that he did, then closed it again. He thought for a moment. "Well, purely for the sake of your argument, let's say I agree that I don't love her, although I am absolutely certain that I find her more attractive than Spock, or Lieutenant Sulu for that matter. What are you suggesting?"

Uhura retrieved Chekov's glass and half-filled it again for him. "I am suggesting, that I'm not prepared to be celibate for the next seven years, or or seven months. Or seven days, dammit. And I am proposing, with your consent, gentlemen, since I can't guarantee the effect this will have on any of us, to seduce our bondmate and see if I can't increase the hit rate a little."

She waited to see what her friends' reaction would be to this proposal.

Sulu wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Pavel?"

"Most of the women on this ship don't seem to need to construct such an elaborate justification before they..."

"Dammit, you ungrateful... cossack. I'm doing this for all of us. Do you want to get your sex life straightened out or don't you?"

Chekov stood, knocking his vodka flying. He scowled at Uhura as if blaming her for the mess. "As Mister Spock would point out, if he was here, but you don't seem to think he is entitled to any input in this discussion, you are not being logical. I want to marry Mi..." He stopped and took a deep breath. "Myfanwy. I don't see what any of this has to do with that."

"Sulu, show him what we did earlier."

Sulu looked surprised. "Why don't you..."

"I think it'll have more impact if you do it."

"Do what?" Chekov demanded, taking a step back and bumping into the bulkhead of his cabin.

"Give me your hand, Pavel." Sulu held out his own hand, palm up.

Chekov regarded it suspiciously. "Why?"

"Why not? I don't bite." Sulu turned his hand over one way and then the other, then pulled his sleeve as if to show there was nothing concealed inside his cuffs. He extended the hand again.

Chekov humphed. "Tell me why first."

"No. Trust me. Go on. There's nothing to be scared of."

"I'm not scared," Chekov said automatically, and clasped Sulu's hand as if intending to shake it firmly. Sulu caught him as his knees crumpled.

"Wh... what?"

"Sit down. Your head will clear in a moment. Just sit down here." Uhura steered the ensign back to his seat on the bunk, careful not to let her hands brush bare skin.

"What the hell did you do to me?" Chekov demanded.

"Nothing, nothing special. I just... that's just what happens when we touch each other. That's why you can't marry Myfanwy, Pavel. You're bonded to me, and Uhura, and Spock."

Chekov examined his hand minutely. "No. He said this wouldn't happen. Spock said..."

"He said it might not result in a permanent bond. He said he didn't really know. He said it worked for seven Vulcans, not one Vulcan and three humans. We took a chance."

"No..."

The three of them sat in silence.

"And now we can't... with anyone else?"

"I don't know about 'can't', Pavel. For the moment, the problem seems to be that we don't want to."

 

***

 

Kirk put his signature on the last of the pile of reports Leonard McCoy had just given him and looked up. "Anything else I should know?" he demanded suspiciously.

The surgeon had a smirk on his face that was threatening to turn into a full scale grin any moment. "No. Everything is hunkydory. Very quiet in sickbay, which is why I'm so far ahead with the physicals. I had plenty of time for..." He stopped.

Kirk frowned. "For what?"

"Just a little surgery this morning. Reconstruction, cosmetic stuff. And if I might say so, a beautiful piece of work. I wonder sometimes if I should have been a sculptor. And the patient is fully fit to go back on duty tomorrow. Just a light sedative this afternoon, and absolutely no bruising or swelling."

The captain shook his head. "Should I stand back a couple extra inches when addressing any of my female of officers?"

McCoy took the stack of data padds back. "You're the only person on this ship who thinks being a triple E cup constitutes enhancement rather than chronic handicap," he said disapprovingly, but the smile reasserted itself almost immediately. "All in all, it's been a very good day's work. Very satisfying."

Kirk leaned back in his chair and watched his chief medical officer depart, wishing he could say the same about his day. He'd had to reprimand Chekov six times for inattention in the course of the morning, and the ensign had still looked as if he was about to fall asleep for most of the afternoon. Sulu hadn't looked much better. For a moment, he considered speaking to both of them about it, but decided not to. It had probably been a 'mens' night out' prior to Chekov's engagement, and if the two of them were beginning to relax with each other again, at last, he didn't want to interfere with that.

***

 

Uhura stood outside the first officer's cabin. She hadn't felt this nervous since... no, she told herself. Let's face it, you've never felt this nervous. She had always been a little in awe of the Vulcan. When they were working together, the fear went away, but it always returned. It was a mixture, she guessed, of his being an authority figure, a fearsomely intelligent being, so damn *calm* about everything, and so incredibly good looking. She sighed. But not good in bed. Or on the floor of an observation satellite control room as it had turned out. More like a fourteen year old succumbing to his first experience of premature ejaculation. If Christine Chapel only knew... She sighed again and hit the announcer.

"Enter."

"Mister Spock," she said, stepping into the room with as much poise as she could muster. Then she realised how badly she'd started. This was personal, and a matter that effected them as equals. 'Mister' simply didn't come into it. "I mean..."

"You have realised that we are bonded." The Vulcan laid a reader down on his desk and stood up.

"You knew?" She couldn't believe it. All that agonising, and he already knew. "How long have you..."

He looked surprised. "Ever since we consummated the pon farr, of course."

"And you didn't tell us? You didn't think we deserved to know?"

"I saw no purpose in telling you before I had taken advice from experts. I wanted to be in a position to answer any questions you might have."

Uhura gave in to her temper, all in a rush. "What experts? There weren't any bloody experts around when we needed them three months ago."

"There are none available now, but I have sent messages to Vulcan seeking advice from various authorities in the field. When I receive replies..." he stopped for a moment, as if it had just occurred to him that the replies might not be the ones they all wanted to hear. "I will inform you all promptly. Of course."

"Spock..." She took a step towards him, then stopped. He was projecting 'keep your distance' with every bit of body language available to a primate, arms folded, feet close together and flat on the deck. "Promptly? As prompt as you were letting us know about the bond?"

"Your reaction is illogical, Lieutenant. There was no need to tell you. You couldn't change anything. There is no risk. Now that I have completed the pon farr, it will not recurr in less than six years. The situation is hardly urgent."

"Not urgent?" Uhura demanded, scarcely able to believe her ears. "What about Pavel and Myfanwy?"

"They will not proceed with the engagement."

"What? Who told you that?"

"No one told me. It is simply impossible."

"Damn. Well, you're probably right. Quite apart from the fact that she's the most irritating female in Starfleet, Sulu practically threatened her with violence if she didn't back off, and Chekov thinks you've condemned him to permanent impotence. One or other of them will probably lose their nerve. But what happens when Chekov meets someone he does seriously want to marry? What if I do?"

Spock's eyes became hooded, threatening. "I will not permit it. He is mine. On Vulcan such infidelity, once bonded, is unthinkable."

"But he was thinking about it, Spock. Don't forget we're human, not Vulcan."

"It is not permitted."

"If you don't tell him that, if he doesn't even know he's bonded, how is he supposed to know?"

"Then I will tell him. He must understand that it is not permitted. You must all understand." Spock's voice was getting lower. Prickles of concern were raising the hairs at the nape of Uhura's neck.

"And what if we don't understand?"

"You are mine, Lieutenant. You have no choice."

"In law? Vulcan law? Or is this a biology thing?"

"When my time comes again, woman, you blood will burn too. You have no choice."

Uhura opened her mouth again, to protest. "Spock..."

"Leave me."

She was too angry to say anything coherent. Once out in the corridor, the door firmly closed behind her, she gave vent to her feelings. "You bastard, you total bastard."

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