Chapter Eight: Making Arrangements

McCoy was working in the Sick Bay the following day when Kirk arrived, unannounced. "Doctor McCoy."

"Jim? Thought you were supposed to be with Spock." he reviewed the schedule. "Oh. Right. Scotty's turn right now."

"It is. And we've received word from the planet surface. The Chancellor's Medical Adviser called, something about finding one of the individuals you asked about? I thought you and I could investigate."

It took him a moment to remember, but then he was leaping for his tricorder. "Right. I remember. They've got folks who have a bad reaction to that juice of theirs. Asked if they could find me someone, to see if they could help."

"Well, it looks like it's paid off."

"Yeah. Let me just tell Chapel she's in charge, and you get on the intercom and tell Spock and Scotty where we're going."

Jim nodded. "Better yet, we'll stop by the cabin, and I'll have Scott set a secure channel for the communicators, in case we need it."

"Good idea." McCoy continued gathering his supplies, then stuck his head into Chapel's office to let her know he was leaving. The Head Nurse gave him a wave, sending him on his way while she continued with the requisition forms that were their only pressing business at the moment.

Five minutes later, they were at the door of Spock's cabin, which opened to admit them before they had a chance to knock. Inside, Spock was standing, his eyes full of uncertainty. "Captain. Doctor McCoy."

"What's goin' on? Everythin' was fine until a few moments ago, and then Mr. Spock looked like he'd taken a few too many shots of Romulan ale." Scotty was looking at both of them, and McCoy felt himself flushing.

Of course his elation at the chance for answers would have hit Spock full force, and he hadn't even considered that. "Sorry Spock. That was my fault." he made an effort to control his embarrassment and his excitement, and watched Spock's face and shoulders relax. "After your accident, I contacted the Chancellor's Medical Adviser. I was hopin' they'd have some sort of way to help you. Fellow couldn't tell me much, but he did say there were some who were 'uncomfortable with openness'. Sounded as much like your symptoms as anything else, so..."

"You have been seeking a way to contact such an individual. And I assume, from your reactions of a moment ago, the search has been successful." Spock swallowed.

"Yeah. Jim and I are gonna go down and see if we can get any information to help you. Don't worry, we'll keep your name out of it."

"I have no concerns on that front. Indeed, I was only considering whether I might ask to accompany you. Though my controls are broken, it is still possible that I might be of assistance, of only to identify symptoms or possible courses of action that you, as psi-null individuals, might not recognize."

McCoy considered it. Spock was right. None of them had the experience with psychic disruption that he did, and what little experience they did have was from an outsider's perspective. "Well, I'm a little worried about what the transport'll do to you, not to mention being back planet-side with a bunch of folks who like 'openness'. On the other hand, you're right about your experience, and I can't say conclusively that you'll be puttin' yourself in danger." McCoy ran over the various scenarios in his head. "I'll agree to it, if you'll give me permission to use a mild neural damper on you, to block out the worst of it. We can't take everyone down, or we'll be raising suspicions, and I'm not sure how much is gonna leak past us."

"A...reasonable precaution." Spock nodded.

"If it's all the same, I think it best be Uhura who goes down with ye." Scoty spoke up. "She's got the excuse of that project her and Mr. Spock are workin' on."

"Good thinking. Uhura, Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy and I will go down to the planet's surface. If anyone asks, we're making arrangements for the possibility of shore leave for the crew, to foster diplomatic relations. Scotty, you and Uhura set up a secure channel before we leave. Dr. McCoy, get on the com and tell the Chancellor's Medical Adviser we'll be there shortly. Then get Spock on that dampener. I'll say here with Spock. McCoy, you return here, and Scotty...you take over on the bridge and send Uhura down to meet up with us."

"Captain...it is customary to meet in the transporter room."

Jim gave Spock an apologetic smile. "I know. But that means you'll be exposed to the crew and the lower temperature of the ship for a longer period of time. I thought it might be easier to cope with the rumor mill than the exposure."

Spock seemed to consider. "Dr. McCoy's neural dampener will mitigate the worst of it. The cold will be...unpleasant, perhaps, but I should prefer it to the possible rumors that might arise from a deviation in normal procedure."

"All right. Bones?"

"Got it right here." McCoy pulled the appropriate hypo from his case and injected the contents carefully into Spock's arm. "Should hold for about...4 hours, give or take."

"We'll hope that's long enough." Jim sighed. "All right. We'll meet in the transporter room." With nods all around, they dispersed.

***U***

Fifteen minutes later, the transporter beam dispersed, leaving them standing in an ornate courtyard. McCoy took a moment to give Spock a quick look-over. The Vulcan had held up well, but the subtle shivering that had come over him in the transporter room hadn't escaped McCoy's notice. Or Kirk's, from the side-long glances the Captain was giving his First Officer.

Movement made all of them turn, just as the Chancellor's Medical Adviser emerged from the doorway that McCoy remembered leading to the formal Hall. Behind him strode another figure. A younger man, if McCoy was any judge, though the delicately reptilian features made it harder to tell than it might have been with a human.

The Chancellor stopped, offering the traditional greeting of his people. "Captain Kirk. A pleasure to see you among us again. And your friends, McCoy and Spock. And..." He turned to Uhura.

Kirk didn't miss a beat. "Lieutenant Nyota Uhura. My Chief Communications Officer. She has an interest in languages and customs, and we were hoping that you might share some language lessons, some stories and songs of your people, for educational purposes and inclusion into our archives."

"Of course. We would be delighted. And ever so pleased if you might share some of your songs and stories with us as well." The Chancellor beamed.

"Oh, absolutely. I'd love to." Uhura gave the Chancellor a warm smile.

"Of course. I will make arrangements. But to business." The Adviser sighed. "Mr. Spock, I understand that our traditional feasting beverage has done you some harm. I am most apologetic. If we had known..."

"There is...no apology necessary." Spock's words were slow, showing the effect of the neural dampener. "You did not know. I did not know."

"Still. It is regrettable. And...forgive me if I speak wrongly in my ignorance, but you seem most unwell still."

"Yeah. That would be the medication. Spock bein' Vulcan and all, the stuff we give him for things like headaches is a bit more potent than normal. He'll be fine in a few hours."

"Ah. In that case...you have asked about those who do not do well with 'openness'. Understand, these individuals are often reclusive by their own choice. But Aranack has agreed to speak with you and give what answers he can. I can only hope it will help." He gestured the young man forward. "I will give you privacy for your discussion."

The Chancellor's Adviser left. Aranack studied all of them for a few moments, then nodded towards the smooth stone in the center of the courtyard. "Come, and I will answer your questions."

They settled down. Spock shifted several times, before he finally seemed to find a spot that suited him. McCoy blinked at the odd behavior before he realized the cause. Spock had arrived chilled, and though the planet was warmer, he was likely still cold. Sitting in the sunlight, his subconscious was probably driving him to seek as much warmth as possible, like a lizard or a cat. McCoy stifled that train of thought before amusement could overwhelm him and leak over, though he caught a raised eyebrow that suggested he hadn't entirely been successful.

Once they were settled, Aranack spoke. "What would you wish to know?"

"Anything you feel like telling us." McCoy fiddled with his tricorder so he could take notes. "At this point, we're pretty much flyin' blind on the side effects of that juice, especially the negative ones, so even if it seems like nothing to you, we'd like to hear about it. Maybe start with your first experience, and go from there."

"My first experience...I had reached the Age of Awareness. It is the age when we are considered old enough to account for ourselves, to understand right and wrong, to begin to make decisions. The Beginning of the Apprenticeship of Life, some call it. All children receive their first drink of the Linking Elixir at this point."

Linking Elixir. He hadn't known it was called that. McCoy made a note, then nodded for Aranack to continue.

"The taste of the drink was not bad, and it did not burn me as it had seemed to some others. For a moment, all was well. And then..." Aranack shuddered. "The world was suddenly too loud, too bright. Everywhere, there were whispers and murmurs. And under all, a humming, deep, like the flying insects but deeper, in my very bones. My mother bent over me, and I heard her worry. My father's eyes were filled with concern, but it was divided. Everywhere around me, it felt as if I was hearing secrets, and not just of people. Secrets of stone and plants and animals. It was...overwhelming."

"Sounds like. I sure wouldn't want to go through that."

Aranack nodded. "I was...afraid then. But my parents soothed me, and told me it was natural to be overwhelmed the first time. Natural to be confused. They said that the whispers proved I was blessed, that openness would be strong with me."

McCoy nodded, his own suspicions beginning to take shape. "Were they right?"

"That the openness was strong for me? Yes. But it was not a blessing." Aranack shivered again. "The humming never fades, even now. When I was older, and I reached the Age of First Maturity, I drank again. And it was worse. Loud. Painful. For days I could not tell what was said to me and what was not, and many times I spoke to things that were in another's mind and heart, rather than their voice. Of course, no one faulted me for it. Many rejoiced at my insight. But it discomforted me. It felt wrong, intrusive. There is much I had no wish to know of others."

"Uh-huh. You ever drink that stuff again?"

"Yes. At the Feast of Full Maturity. It is a rite of passage from childhood to adulthood. But I did not drink much, and afterward I went to the Places of Silence. Many go there to increase their awareness, but I went to dampen it. It helped, and since then I have avoided feasting and celebrations. I am careful, but even so...it is difficult sometimes."

"I bet it is." McCoy frowned. He was beginning to get an idea of what was going on. "You ever hear of anyone who had the same problem?"

"I have. There are a handful or so of us with each generation. The Blessed. Or the Cursed, depending on who you would ask. Most, like me, seek mild seclusion and solitude, and we manage well enough to get by without harm. Some few have a character which enables them to turn their awareness to helping others. Still others have been overwhelmed, and have taken to the Places of Silence to find themselves. Some return to live among the people. Some few do not. They are still respected, but many folk regard the Silent Ones as...strange."

"Yeah. I bet they do." McCoy pinched the bridge of his nose.

He knew he was guessing, but he'd always had a fair intuition, and he knew xeno-psychology almost as well as xeno-biology. He had a feeling he knew what had happened, and was happening.

Like the people of Earth, these people had few psychics. Perhaps only a handful per generation that would register high enough to have notable skills. Earth had driven their psychics into hiding through fear and mistrust and persecution. This culture hadn't done that, but in their own way, they'd done as much damage. The constant attention, no matter how benign, must have been difficult. Especially when the entire population was in the habit of drinking beverages that would enhance what psychic fields they did have, and reducing shields to nothing. Naturally, those with higher susceptibility would have found coping mechanisms, including withdrawing fro society to avoid losing their minds. Without anyone to properly train them, it was the only viable option.

Of course, that was just a theory. But he did have a way to test it.

He held up his tricorder. "Aranack, I think I have an idea of what's going on here. But I'm gonna need to run a few tests to be sure. And I'd like your help."

"Of course. If I can assist you, I will." Aranack hesitated. "I was given to understand...your friend has difficulties with openness?"

"He does. And if you're asking me if helping him might help you and others like you too, the answer is, I don't know yet. But you have my word that I'll look into it. Maybe I'll find nothing, maybe I'll find something. It's hard to say."

"Even a chance is better than none." Aranack nodded. "What would you have me do?"

McCoy stood, brushing dust off his trousers. "Well, we're gonna need some place private, and then I'll walk you through what I need." He turned. "Jim, if you and Uhura could watch Spock for me."

"Of course." Captain and Lieutenant nodded. Spock himself seemed to be absorbed in studying the stones.

"Right." McCoy turned. "Now then, let's see what we can find out..."

***U***

Two hours later, Aranack was looking frazzled. McCoy was feeling frazzled. But he did have some answers.

Aranack had tested for a moderate level of psychic ability. Nowhere near in Spock's league, but higher than most people McCoy knew. Of course, he had no training in it's use, no way of controlling it. But the talent was there. Mostly latent, but there.

Which meant McCoy's theory was likely correct. The Silent Ones, the recluses and odd men out, were most likely the ones harboring the very gifts their planet sought to encourage. And they were hiding them, because they had no way of learning to use them without also going mad.

That was a problem for another time. For now, he had an idea of what was going on, and a possible way to help Spock. He shut his tricorder, then led Aranack back to the others.

Spock was looking much more alert. And much less comfortable. The drugs were probably wearing off. He looked up with an expression of relief, quickly masked, as McCoy joined them. "Doctor."

"Spock." McCoy offered him a nod. "Well, the good news is, I might have an answer."

"Tell us."

McCoy laid out his theory. Spock nodded at the end of his explanation. "The thought had crossed my mind when listening to Aranack's explanation. However..."

"Yeah, I know. Either way, Aranack here let me run some tests, and he does have a decently high psi rating. Higher than average for a human, though lower than the Vulcan average. And he says that he learned to control it by goin' to one of these Places of Silence. Which makes me think that this might be a solution for us too. At the very least, doesn't seem to me that it could hurt."

"No. It wouldn't. Especially since we were just discussing ways for Spock to have more insulation...it could work, I think. Spock?" Kirk turned to his First Officer.

"It could indeed be beneficial. Such practices, and places, are common on Vulcan. It might be easier to re-establish my controls." Spock's growing vocabulary was offset by his growing pallor.

"Uh-huh. Aranack, these Places of Silence..."

"They are free for all to visit, though few do so. I would be most willing to guide you to one such location."

"Sounds great. If you know one that's dry and warm, that would be ideal. Our Mr. Spock here is from a desert climate."

"I know of one. I will seek out the coordinates for you." Aranack dipped his head in a bow. "If you will meet me here tomorrow at noon, I will lead you there."

"Good enough." McCoy tipped his head to look at Kirk. "Jim?"

"Sounds good. That give me enough time to start authorizing Shore Leave. Our absences will be less conspicuous if the crew is on shore leave pending negotiations."

"Good plan. You clear that with Starfleet Command and the Chancellor. I need to get Spock back up before he has an aneurysm." The Vulcan was turning paler by the minute. "Not to mention Spock needs to pack his gear."

Spock swallowed hard, nodded. "That is...quite true."

"Then let's get moving. Spock, I'll join you as soon as I have everything arranged here."

"Yes Captain. Lieutenant Uhura, perhaps you should remain with Captain Kirk."

"Of course sir." Uhura nodded.

"All right." Kirk flipped open his communicator. "Scotty, I'm sending McCoy and Spock back. Uhura and I will be returning in a while. In the meantime, tell all departments to prepare for Shore Leave. Starfleet and the locals willing, we'll be beginning beam-down tomorrow morning."

"Aye sir." The Scotsman's burr came over the comm. "Standing by to beam up, sir."

McCoy flipped open his own communicator with a scowl. "Beam us up, Mr. Scott."

Seconds later, the courtyard dissolved in a beam of gold.

Author's Note: Yay! A potential solution appears.