12

(two novellas)

TIME IS THE FIRE - T'hera

"From what I understand, the victim, the Chosen One, myself in this case, is exposed to Rachtaro's full power for a length of time. The intense heat kills in a very few hours. Not a pleasant way to go to one's death, I suspect," Spock said, his voice slightly rough.

How can he speak of his own death in such a calm, matter-of-fact tone? Kirk wondered.

Oh, Spock! He began to pace back and forth, then stopped behind Spock. The black head was bent and the nape f the Vulcan's neck was so poignantly vulnerable that his heart twisted in his chest. He blinked back the tears that threatened, and rubbed the back of his hand under his nose.

Then a thought occurred to him. "Spock! You knew about this before, didn't you? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I only had an inkling, Jim. I fully understood the implications only today." Spock's voice was bleak.

"Still, you should have said something. I have the right to know." Drop it, James, Kirk told himself. What difference does it make now?

The Vulcan's voice was very deep and soft. Kirk could hardly hear him. "I did not wish to burden you more than necessary. You would know soon enough."

"Thanks, Spock. But friends share these things. Don't you know a burden is lighter if carried by more than one? Don't keep things to yourself so much. Share with me from now on. Promise?"

"Yes, Jim . . . you have my word. It is to be wished, most strongly, that the times we share from now on will be pleasant."

"Amen to that, Spock. Amen. Hopefully there will be time left to us that we can share, was Kirk's fervent wish.

WHAT CANNOT BE CURED - Janis E. Laine

"What in hell's gotten into you, Spock?"

At least Kirk had chosen the briefing room to confront him, Spock reflected. He could not have withstood being in Kirk's quarters, so near the bed . . . . WHY did the suppressant not do what it was supposed to?

" . . . I don't think you've heard two words of what I've just said. You haven't acted this way since before . . . . " Kirk stopped abruptly but the sentence finished itself in his mind: since before Spock had undergone his first Pon Farr. That was supposed to occur only every seven years, but the Vulcan was behaving in almost the same irrational manner now as then.

Realizing he was stammering, Kirk stopped, then met the issue head on almost. "Do you need to go back to Vulcan again?"

"No." He could say that honestly enough.

"Then would you mind telling me whatever possessed you to commandeer a shuttlecraft?"

"I did request a short leave, Captain."

"And I denied it!" Kirk couldn't understand the anger he felt toward his first officer and that made him angrier still. "I'm still commanding officer here," he barked. "You were going to desert . . . . " He almost said 'me.' That's a court-martial offense, Mister."

Spock couldn't bring himself to meet Kirk's accusing stare, so he studied the play of lights on the glossy toes of his boots. Choked by suppressed emotions, his reply was nearly inaudible.

"If the captain believes my actions warrant the bringing of charges, I shall not contest them," he said.

"Dammit, Spock!" Kirk exploded. "I don't want to do that. I just want an explanation."

"I can offer no excuse," Spock said tonelessly. "Perhaps you might classify my . . . lapse . . . as an incident of a medical nature . . . . "

POETRY

COVERS

ART

June 1987