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The fever will soon be upon me. I can feel it pulsing through my veins like the drum beat of a shi-kar-tor ritual. I can almost smell the smoke, taste the meat. The fever will come and take me to a place where my reason and my logic cannot follow. I relish the burning times; it is only then that my senses truly awaken. There is fire in my touch and devilry in my soul.
As I walk the ship’s corridors the crew scurry away from me. They can smell the danger and I in turn can smell their fear. It is sweet elixir. As I near my destination, I can smell him. My nostrils flare, taking in his scent. There is no fear on him. Not yet. That will be my task today.
I round the final corner and enter his domain. Sickbay. He has his back to me and does not turn. His mistake.
I cross quickly and force him into the wall inhaling his scent as I do so. I touch my teeth to his neck and taste his blood. The effect is intoxicating. First point to me.
He uses my distraction to his advantage, swinging round and throwing me off. “Spock! What the hell are you doing?”
I lick my lips. “Taking what is mine.”
He dabs at his neck then stares at the blood on his fingers. “I ain’t yours, Spock.”
“Really?” I ask, taking a step forward. He takes one back and finds himself against the wall. I move closer, forcing my body onto his. Slowly and deliberately I stretch one hand down between us and grab at his groin. He hisses on an indrawn breath. “Your body betrays you, Leonard. You are mine. You always have been mine and you always will be mine.”
He growls low in his throat. The sound serves only to deepen my arousal. I will have him whether he wills it or not. I force him over a console. He begins to struggle, but I am stronger than him. I knock his head into the console. He slumps down.
I rip open his uniform then unfasten my own. I spit on my hand and rub it into him. He does not stir. I force myself into him. Finally he begins to move against me. I rock back and forth. The scent of blood, his blood, fills the air. The intoxicating smell causes me to move faster.
As I near my end, I reach out and touch the meld points. Nothing. I move my hand and try again. Still nothing. Something is wrong. He is not in my mind.
I pull away from him. He falls to the floor and I let him drop. He is worthless to me now. I will find no release here.
I roam the corridors blindly, moving from deck to deck. I am searching for something, though I do not know what. He is no longer in my mind. I cannot feel the background noise of his thoughts. The sweet cruelty, the glorious pain, all of it is gone.
My journey takes me past the agony booth, but even the taste of fear and pain and death is not enough to give me release.
The engineer is here and it is only then that I remember. The other. The McCoy whose mind was filled with compassion and empathy and love. The bile rises in my throat at the very thought of it. He is in my mind now. He has taken the place of my McCoy. I curse his very name.
The engineer has noticed. “Is there something the matter, Mr Spock?”
The beast within me wishes to bear its teeth and fight. I push it done. The engineer might be able to help me. For a price.
“Mr Scott. Your concern is not needed.” He starts to turn back to the agony booth controls. “Your services, however, may be required.” I can feel his surprise, but he is quick to respond to this unexpected opportunity.
“What would be in it for me?” he asks.
His bluntness pleases me. “That would be negotiable.”
A grin spreads across his face. “I’m sure we can come up with something.”
I have explained to the engineer what it is I want. He thinks it possible, but it will take time. He wants the ship. I have promised to back him against Kirk. The price is not as high as I had expected. The wait will be harder to bear.
I consider returning to McCoy, but another idea occurs to me. I go not to sickbay, but to the crew quarters. I use my override to enter Ensign Chekov’s quarters.
The ensign reaches for a phaser, but I have his agonizer in my hand.
“Why are you here?” he asks, letting the phaser go.
“I want something from you.” I can smell the fear on him. It increases as I move toward him.
“What?” he asks, trying to be brave.
The effort is wasted. I know that he fears me. I know that he is a coward.
“Get up.” He doesn’t move, so I pull him from his chair. He glares at me now. I watch him squirm and fight. I can feel the fever returning. It pulses in my veins. My breathing quickens. I bear my teeth at him before leaning down to kiss him. Hard. I pull back, his blood on my lips.
His fear is stronger now. He reeks of it. “Mr Spock? What are you doing?”
I force him to his knees. “Service me.”
He looks up. “What?”
“Service me,” I say again.
Hesitantly, he reaches out and unfastens my uniform.
I grab his hair and force his head back. “I you try anything, Ensign, be assured that I will break your neck.”
He nods. He is a coward, he will not try anything. He swallows hard, then takes my erection in his mouth.
He is skilled at this. I do not risk the meld points. I do not wish to be bonded to this one, no matter how skilled he may be.
As my seed spills into his mouth, he tries to pull away. I hold his head, forcing him to swallow. Nothing should be wasted.
After a moment, I let him go and he pulls back. As I refasten my uniform, he remains on his knees. I cup his chin, “There may be something for you in this. But it will have to wait.”
The engineer is ready. After the incident, I pulled what he saw from my McCoy’s mind. Taking that into account, I prepare a new uniform and shaving off my beard. I am confident that I will be able to pass for this other Spock. After taking one last look in the mirror, I go to the transporter room.
“Mr Spock! I hardly recognised you.”
Ignoring the engineer, I move to stand on the transporter pad. “This will work?”
“It will. I can’t be sure I’ll put you down in just the right spot, but you’ll be on the ship, I can promise you that.”
I nod. “It will have to suffice. Energise.”
“Energising.”
I re-materialise in an unfamiliar room. It appears to be a garden of sorts. There would be no place for this on my Enterprise.
“Mr Spock? Are you all right?”
I turn sharply. “I am fine, Mr Sulu.”
He frowns. “If you’re sure?” I nod. He spares me one last glance before returning to his own business, whatever that may be. This universe is indeed strange. This Sulu is unscarred, but beneath the surface the changes are much more profound. It is unnerving.
I leave the room, checking the room designation as I do so. Deck 8. This place is the agony booth on my Enterprise. The sickbay, however, should be in exactly the same location. I move swiftly, endeavouring to avoid contact with these people. I arrive at sickbay without difficulty. The other McCoy is here. He is alone in his office, placing folders into a large metal cabinet. The advantage is mine.
He turns and smiles at me. “Give me a minute, Spock, will you. If I don’t file these damn reports, I’ll lose them.”
“It is illogical to keep hard copy reports, Doctor.”
He turns and wags a finger at me. “What happens if that computer of yours goes down, huh? I don’t want to end up administering a drug that a patient is allergic to because I don’t have their file.” He finishes the task in hand, then turns back to me. “What can I do for you?” he asks, leaning against the cabinet.
I take a step towards him. “It is more what I can do for you,” I say, voice low.
“Spock? You feeling all right?”
I take another step. I am close enough that we are almost touching.
He reaches for a medical tricorder, but I stop him before he can scan me.
“Spock?” he asks, voice a mixture of concern and confusion.
“Is this not what you have always wanted?” I ask, leaning down to kiss him.
He places his hands on my chest and pushes me away. “Now I know you must be ill. Come on, Spock, what is it?” He reaches for the tricorder and this time I do not stop him. He runs it over me, frowning at the readout. “Pon farr,” he says.
I incline my head a fraction.
“Then we need to talk to Jim, see if we can get you to Vulcan.” He moves towards the comm panel, but I move to stand in his way.
“It is not Jim I wish, but you.”
When he looks up at me, his expression is torn between concern and longing. What was in his mind when I melded with him is now plain on his face.
“You’re sick, Spock, you’re not thinking straight.”
I step towards him and he steps back until the cabinet is behind him. He has nowhere to go. “This is not an illness, Leonard, but a fever. I am not ill; I know exactly what I want.” I take hold of his shoulders and kiss him, harder this time. I do not draw blood - that would be too much for him. He must allow me into his mind so that I may sever the link.
He looks up at me before finally coming to a decision. He kisses me.
I hold on to what remains of my control long enough to touch the meld points. I move softly, gently, not at all like the first time I did this to him. I doubt he even notices. His attention is elsewhere.
I have reached the link in his mind. It is like a raw nerve in his mind. This will hurt. I move closer to him, trapping him. He needs to be still.
I pull my head up, breaking the kiss.
“Spock?”
“Shh, Leonard, this may hurt a little, but it is necessary.”
“Spock?” he asks again, concern heightened. If it has taken him this long to see that something is wrong, his wits are indeed dulled.
I touch the link, burning it away like a surgeon cutting out a cancer.
He screams.
I ignore him.
“Stop!”
I turn to the voice and am frozen for a moment. The other Spock.
He uses my distraction to pull me away from McCoy. He stands between us, like a mother guarding her young. Or a lover his mate. “What have you done to him?”
“I have removed myself from his mind.”
“What?”
“We were linked, he and I. Even here that must mean something.”
He looks at McCoy and then at me. “How did this happen?”
“It does not matter,” I say, taking a step towards the open door.
He moves with me, pace for pace, step for step.
“If this comes to a fight, brother,” I say, edging closer to the door, “I will win. Your compassion will keep you here with him and I will be gone. It can happen no other way. Logic dictates that you must let me go.”
“This is not a matter for logic,” he says, and I notice for the first time that his eyes burn. He too is at the beginning of the burning time. A curious parallel, but not one I care to investigate.
He lunges towards me and we grapple. In this at least we are matched evenly.
Then McCoy groans.
The other Spock glances at him for a split second. I spring forward and grip his neck. He falls to the floor at the feet of the other McCoy.
I stare down at them. I had meant to repair the damage done to this McCoy’s mind. What is done to the body may be transitory, but what is done to the mind is eternal. Now there is no time. No matter. He is not mine to be concerned with.
Moving swiftly, I leave sickbay and search for a transporter room. It is a simple matter to render the operator unconscious. They are weak here. That is clearer now than ever.
I configure the transporter according to the settings the engineer gave me. After setting a delay, I go over to the transporter pad. Soon, the welcome feeling of the beam takes hold of me.
As I materialise, the sound of screaming greets me. This is home, there can be no mistake. I am near the agony booth. On the other ship this was a garden. I wonder if I had been there would I be him. It is not logical to ask such questions.
My task is complete. The other McCoy is no longer in my mind. There is no one there. I am free to choose whomever I will. Briefly I consider the possibilities: young Chekov, skilled beyond his years; the engineer with his casual cruelty, but there was never any real question. I start towards sickbay. He is mine. He has always been mine. He always will be mine.
The burning times are upon me. It is time to give in to the fever. It is time to take what is mine.
End
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