"Very well," she conceded, leading the way back to the lift with Sarela close at her side. "But if his condition worsens, Doctor, you may rest assured that blame will fall squarely onto yourshoulders."

McCoy bit back the sarcastic comment waiting on his tongue and followed the tour party into the lift. But as his eyes scanned the Vulcan, he shivered inside. Even beneath the hood, the darkened features were those of a trapped animal … an animal dangerous with its madness.

With Sarela and Thea asleep for the night, Spock studied the tapes which S'Parva had provided; and though the information was vast, consisting of several hundred hours of reading, there was no mistaking the fact that Thea had been directly involved. And yet, going back into Earth's past to stopthe Romulan operatives would not be as simple as stepping through some mystical portal of Time. He would need a ship; and stealing something as conspicuous as a Romulan cruiser would not be easy, particularly with Thea monitoring him at all times once they reached Romulus. She had made passing comment on Governor T'Rouln's attack on the palace, the Vulcan recalled; yet she had either not connected the governor's actions with the madness which was spreading throughout the galaxy … or she was, quite simply, pretending to ignore it.

But he glanced back down at the computer readout of the time-warp physics. In order to break the barrier between time and space, he would have to take a ship as close to the sun as possible, relying on the strength of the engines to pull the vessel free of the incredible gravity once a speed surpassing Warp Seventeen was achieved. That speed alone might be enough to rip a ship to shreds, Spock thought; the structural stress should, logically, be so incredible that the vessel would disintegrate. But apparently, something in the peculiar physics of faster-than-light travel caused an object moving at Warp Seventeen or greater to expand, to achieve infinite mass and thereby avoid destruction. In essence, the ship became partof time, and could navigate through the eons as well as navigating through physical space. To the Vulcan, it was only an untested theory; but to the Romulans, it was obviously a fact.

Once free of the sun's gravitational pull, the snapping effect would hurl the vessel to even greater speeds, until finally the time-flow would snap into reverse. He was both surprised and somewhat annoyed to discover that it was a matter of physics. In theory, at least, it appeared simple.

But as he felt the tensions mounting in his own body once again, he wondered if the entire ordeal would be rendered academic. Despite the fact that the pon farrwas attributable to the insanity of time displacement, he could no longer control its effects. A quick glance around the huge room confirmed that McCoy and S'Parva were already asleep, each curled onto an elaborate Romulan half-bed with brightly colored comforters.

The Vulcan took a deep breath, staring at his own neatly made bed. His legs trembled as he stood, but he moved carefully, using the wall for support as he stripped off the black robes and sat on the edge of the bed to remove the boots. After another moment, he lay down, closed his eyes and drifted into red darkness. Fire whispered, licking hungry tongue-flames over his body. Sleep did not come for a long time. But dreams were quick to intrude.

… Neutral Zone … desert world … blue sun.

It was an alien landscape, scattered with rocks, towering boulders, and a few scraggly bushes which had survived the harsh terrain. Deepening shadows lengthened, grew, coalesced into total darkness. Overhead, the clear night sky was strewn with thousands of curious eyes, shining in intriguing patterns and constellations … none familiar.

In the midst of the darkness, there was a voice—distant at first, then closer. It spoke one syllable repeatedly. The syllable, too, was a recognized sound, an arrangement of consonants and vowels which held meaning.

Spock … Spock?

The stars grew brighter.

Jim … Jim? He reached for it.

For a moment, the stars took them.

But gradually, the stars began to fade … and were lost somewhere in the silver-gray sky of an alien morning.

The Vulcan awoke, almost expecting to see the familiar face leaning over him, smiling some lopsided mischievous smile. But as reality returned, logic pointed out that it had been nothing more than a dream.

And yet … the star pattern remained in the Vulcan's mind; and the phantom voice whispered in his ear, calling his name repeatedly. With a lifted brow, he rose from the bed, careful not to awaken McCoy or S'Parva with his quick movements toward the computer console.

The drummer sounded in his ears, a symphony of thunder. But he made it to the chair, slumped into it, and activated the terminal. After finding the correct mode, he stared at the screen for what felt like hours. At first, the star patterns of the Romulan Empire were nothing more than alien configurations of light. But when he continued his search through the files, viewing the stars as they appeared from various planets in the Empire, he suddenly understood the meaning of the dream. It was Kirk's distress beacon, Kirk's way of letting him know where he and Richardson were located.

At last, as he continued rapidly thumbing the switch which would advance the program, he came to the diagram of the star patterns as viewed from Remus, sister-world of the Romulan governmental planet. And there, almost like a smile, appeared the precise constellation which had filled his dream.

Neutral Zone … desert world … blue sun …

As he sat there pondering the simplicity of the message, Spock felt the first glimmer of hope he'd experienced in a long time. But when he turned, preparing to dress for the day's events, it was to see S'Parva leaning quietly over his shoulder once again.

Another time, he could have responded with a lifted brow or questioning glance; but with the dream still etched in his mind, the fever burning brighter than stars in his blood, and the knowledge that they would soon reach the Praetor's palace, his eyes widened as a gasp slipped past his waning control.

S'Parva eyed the screen, however, almost oblivious to the Vulcan's uncharacteristic nervousness. Her whiskers twitched. "I saw the constellation in my mind, too, Commander," she murmured. "They've made contact, but … without a ship, there's no way to get to them."

But the Katellan's voice came through a distant tunnel. A sound like an ocean began to roar, and long fingers of hot darkness reached into the Vulcan's mind, tugging him down into unconsciousness. For a brief instant, surprise registered on angular features.

Greedy hands covered his eyes, caressing reality with fire. He fell.

Chapter Nineteen

WITH A GASP, Kirk awoke, hands constricting on some invisible demon which had crept into the tent during the night and now attempted to strangle his very life away. Movement was impossible, and hot dry air stabbed his throat as he tried to breathe.

"Whoa! Wake up, Jim!" a distant voice commanded insistently.

Hands closed on his shoulders—gentle, reassuring hands of a friend. He inhaled sharply, his eyes focused, and he found himself face to face with Richardson. Glancing suspiciously around the tent, he felt paranoia as he tried to sit up; but the twisted sleeping bag constricted across his chest and arms, throwing him back at the ground.

Quickly, Richardson unzipped the restrictive gear, hoisting Kirk into a sitting position. Brown eyes narrowed with concern. "That must've been one hell of a dream, Jim," he remarked, crawling over to the "door" and throwing back the two main flaps. "When I went out to take a better look at our predicament, you were sleeping like a little crumb grabber.