Star Trek

Captain.

- Got a minute? - A minute.

It's Spock. You noticed anything strange about him?

No, nothing in particular. Why?

Well, it's nothing I can pinpoint without an examination,

but he's become increasingly restive.

If he were not a Vulcan, I'd almost say "nervous."

For another thing, he's avoiding food.

I've checked and he hasn't eaten at all in three days.

Well, that just sounds like Mr. Spock in one of his contemplative phases.

Miss Chapel.

- Dr. McCoy. - Captain.

What's this?

Vulcan plomeek soup. And I'll bet you made it too.

You never give up hoping, do you?

Mr. Spock hasn't been eating, Doctor. And I just happened to notice.

It's all right. Carry on, Miss Chapel.

- Bones, I'm a busy man. - Jim,

when I suggested to Spock it was time for his routine checkup

your logical, unemotional first officer turned to me and said:

"You will cease to pry into my personal matters, Doctor,

or I shall certainly break your neck."

Spock said that?

What is this?

Poking. Prying. If I want anything from you, I'll ask for it.

Captain, I should like to request a leave of absence. On my home planet.

On our present course, you can divert to Vulcan with a loss of but 2.8 light-days.

- What the devil is this all about? - I've made my request, Captain.

All I require from you is that you answer it, yes or no.

Space, the final frontier.

These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise.

Its five-year mission: To explore strange new worlds,

to seek out new life and new civilizations,

to boldly go where no man has gone before.

All right, Spock. Let's have it.

It is undignified for a woman to play servant to a man who is not hers.

I'm more interested in your request for shore leave.

- In the years that I've known... - You have my request.

Will you grant it or not?

In all the years I've known you, you've never asked for leave of any sort.

In fact, you've refused them. Why now?

Captain, surely I have enough leave time accumulated.

Agreed. But that isn't the question, is it?

If there's a problem of some sort, illness in the family...

No.

Nothing of that nature, Captain.

Then since we're headed for Altair VI,

and since the shore facilities there are excellent...

No. I must...

I wish to take my leave on Vulcan.

Spock, I'm asking you.

What's wrong?

I need rest.

I'm asking you to accept that answer.

Bridge.

- Helm. - Yes, Captain?

Alter course to Vulcan.

- Increase speed to warp 4. - Aye, sir.

Thank you, Captain.

I suppose most of us overlook the fact that even Vulcans aren't indestructible.

No.

We're not.

Captain's Log, Stardate 3372.7.

On course, on schedule, bound for Altair VI via Vulcan.

First Officer Spock seems to be under stress.

He has requested and been granted shore leave.

Ship's Surgeon McCoy has him under medical surveillance.

Captain, something's coming in on the Starfleet channel.

Priority and urgent, sir.

Put it on audio over here, Lieutenant.

Message complete, sir. Switching over.

To Captain, U.S.S. Enterprise. From Starfleet, Sector 9.

Inauguration ceremonies Altair VI have been advanced seven solar days.

You're ordered to alter your flight plan as filed to accommodate.

By order of Komack, Admiral, Starfleet Command.

Acknowledge.

Lieutenant Uhura, acknowledge that message.

Aye aye, sir.

Mr. Chekov, compute course and speed necessary for compliance.

We'll have to head directly there at warp 6, sir.

Insufficient time to stop off at Vulcan.

Head directly for Altair VI.

Sailor's luck, Mr. Spock.

Or, as one of Finagle's Laws puts it:

"Any home port the ship makes will be somebody else's, not mine."

The new President of Altair VI wants to get himself launched a week early,

so we have to be there a week early.

Don't worry, I'll see that you get your leave,

as soon as we're finished.

I quite understand, Captain.

- Bridge, Navigation. - Navigation, Chekov here.

Mr. Chekov, how late will we arrive for the ceremonies

if we increase speed to maximum and divert to Vulcan

just long enough to drop off Mr. Spock?

I do not understand, Captain.

How far behind schedule will diverting to Vulcan put us?

We're on course for Vulcan, Captain, as Mr. Spock ordered.

Thank you, Mr. Chekov. Kirk out.

Mr. Spock.

Come with me, please.

Deck 5.

You changed course for Vulcan, Mr. Spock. Why?

Changed the course?

Do you deny it?

No. By no means, Captain.

It is quite possible.

- Then why did you do it? - Captain, I accept, on your word...

that I did it.

But I do not know why, nor do I remember doing it.

Captain, lock me away.

I do not wish to be seen.

I cannot. No Vulcan could explain further.

I'm trying to help you, Spock.

Ask me no further questions. I will not answer.

- I order you to report to the Sickbay. - Sickbay?

Complete examination. McCoy's waiting.

Come in, Spock. I'm all ready for you.

My orders were to report to Sickbay, Doctor.

I have done so.

And now I'll go to my quarters.

My orders were to give you a thorough physical.

In case you hadn't noticed,

I have to answer to the same commanding officer that you do.

Come on, Spock.

Yield to the logic of the situation.

Very well.

Examine me, for all the good it will do either of us.

How do you figure it, Chekov?

First we're going to Vulcan. Then we're going to Altair.

Then we're headed to Vulcan again. Now we're headed back to Altair.

I think I'm going to get space-sick.

Jim, you've got to get Spock to Vulcan.

Bones, I will, I will. As soon as this mission is completed.

No, now. Right away. If you don't get him to Vulcan within a week,

eight days at the outside, he'll die.

He'll die, Jim.

Why...

must he die? Why within eight days? Explain.

I don't know.

You keep saying that. Are you a doctor or aren't you?

There's a growing imbalance of body functions.

As if in our bodies, huge amounts of adrenaline

were constantly being pumped into our bloodstreams.

Now, I can't trace it down in my bio-comps.

Spock won't tell me what it is.

But if it isn't stopped somehow,

the physical and emotional pressures will simply kill him.

You say you're convinced he knows what it is?

He does.

And he's as tightlipped about it as an Aldebaran shell mouth.

No use to ask him, Jim. He won't talk.

Come.

Stay.

McCoy has given me his medical evaluation of your condition.

He says you're going to die unless something is done.

What?

Is it something only your planet can do for you?

Spock.

You've been called the best first officer in the Fleet.

That's an enormous asset to me.

If I have to lose that first officer, I want to know why.

It's a thing no outworlder may know...

except those very few who've been involved.

A Vulcan understands, but even we do not speak of it among ourselves.

It is a deeply personal thing.

Can you see that, Captain, and understand?

No, I do not understand. Explain.

Consider that an order.

There are some things which transcend even the discipline of the service.

Would it help if I told you that I'll treat this

as totally confidential?

It has to do with biology.

- What? - Biology.

- What kind of biology? - Vulcan biology.

You mean, the biology of Vulcans?

Biology as in reproduction?

Well...

there's no need to be embarrassed about it, Mr. Spock.

It happens to the birds and bees.

The birds and the bees are not Vulcans, Captain.

If they were,

if any creature as proudly logical as us,

were to have their logic

ripped from them as this time does to us...

How do Vulcans choose their mates?

Haven't you wondered?

I guess the rest of us assume that it's done...

quite logically.

No.

It is not.

We shield it with ritual...

and customs shrouded in antiquity.

You humans have no conception.

It strips our minds from us.

It brings a madness which

rips away our veneer of civilisation.

It is the Pon farr.

The time of mating.

There are precedents in nature, Captain.

The giant eel-birds of Regulus V,