Kirk drifted to awareness slowly and forced his eyes open. He eventually managed to focus on the familiar sight of sickbay's eggshell white ceiling. Within moments, a blob blocked his sight and resolved itself into McCoy's tired face. Kirk blinked up at him, and was rewarded with a wide, crooked smile.

"Well, hey there," McCoy drawled. Before Kirk could muster a reply, the doctor plucked at the short hairs at his temple. "You see this?" McCoy demanded with mock severity. "Grey hair, Jim. I swear, you're gonna to be the death of me."

It took more effort than he would have thought possible, but Kirk managed to heave one arm high enough to give McCoy an apologetic pat on the shoulder before letting it fall back to the bed. "Sorry, Bones." The words came out as a garbled croak, but the doctor seemed to grasp the meaning.

McCoy sighed and shook his head. "How are ya feeling?"

Kirk frowned slightly. "Tired."

"You've been out for nearly a day," McCoy said as Kirk worked to push himself up onto his elbows. He cast the doctor a quick glare when it looked like McCoy was moving to stop him. McCoy heaved a world weary sigh and instead helped Kirk into a sitting position.

"I take it you found the cure to my incurable problem?" Kirk asked, smiling.

McCoy waved a hand in the air with dramatic presentation. "I'm calling it Veygan Choriomeningitis," he announced grandly.

"That's a mouthful," Kirk said.

McCoy crossed his arms and shrugged. "Yeah well, I tried to make it sound as impressive as possible to try to get you off the hook with Coleman."

Kirk looked at him hopefully. "Did it work?"

"Nope," McCoy said with sickening cheerfulness. "Still, it's a nifty little bug. Gonna make a fascinating medical paper that should keep the whole field hopping for a little while."

Kirk snorted as he swung his legs over the side of the biobed. "Glad to be of service, Bones."

"Don't you dare try to stand up," McCoy growled. "Or else I'll leave you laying on the floor as a lesson in stupidity."

"I would advise compliance, Captain," Spock's deep voice intoned gravely, and both looked over at him as he approached. "The good doctor has been extremely irritable of late."

"Now, how the blazes—" McCoy started, then caught motion out of the corner of his eye. He turned just in time to see Christine make her escape. "Oh, for heaven's sake," he snapped at her as the sickbay doors hissed closed.

Kirk's weak chuckle drew him back to his patient. "Spock's got all the ladies wrapped around his little finger, you should know that by now," he teased.

Spock raised an indignant eyebrow, but let the statement go unchallenged.

"Traitors," McCoy groused, glaring at the closed door.

Taking advantage of the doctor's temporary distraction, Kirk decided to ignore good advice and slid off the biobed. His legs refused to work, and he had to catch himself on the mattress with his elbows before he managed to get his knees to lock into place. Contrary to his threat, McCoy instantly grabbed his arm to steady him as he wobbled precariously. Kirk didn't remember the concept of balance being so difficult.

"You're an idiot," McCoy barked.

Kirk frowned at him. "How did I ever let you get so insubordinate?"

"I find myself wondering that on a daily basis, sir," Spock quipped dryly, folding his hands serenely behind his back.

"Shut up," McCoy snapped irritably.

Kirk sighed and passed a weary hand over his eyes. "Report," he said, glancing at Spock.

Spock narrowed his eyes at his captain when he pushed away from the support of the biobed and took an unsteady step. Spock flicked a glance at McCoy, noting his unhappy glower. The doctor crossed his arms in silent rebuke, but made no effort to stop him. Spock tracked his captain's slow progress as he spoke. "The Enterprise is currently en rout to Starbase 11 to rendezvous with Ambassador Coleman," he said, and Kirk winced. "We will arrive approximately ten hours, sixteen minutes late."

"Approximately?" Kirk asked, pausing in his circuit of sickbay to give Spock a fond smile.

"Yes, sir. Our current velocity is subject to slight fluctuations."

"Scotty broke the engines," McCoy translated.

"I see," Kirk said, and sighed. "Tell me something, gentlemen," he said, looking between his friends. "When was the last time the U.S.S. Enterprise showed up on time for a diplomatic event of any kind, and nothing went wrong?"

"Oh, wait – I know this one!" McCoy said, then hesitated. "No, never mind."

"I'll tell you when," Kirk said. "Before I took command, that's when." He pointed at McCoy. "I think you're right. We're cursed."

Spock took a breath, and McCoy stabbed a finger at him. "Don't say it, Spock."

Kirk laughed, enjoying being able to do so without being in agony. He felt a sudden urge to check on his ship and his crew. He looked down at his chest and plucked at the standard sickbay overalls he was wearing.

"One hour," McCoy said, unfolding an arm to hold up a single finger before making a chopping gesture with the same hand. "And then you're going to bed." He understood the benefit to the crew of having the captain appear on the bridge, but he wasn't going to sanction more than absolutely necessary.

"Now, wait a minute," Kirk started, drawing himself upright with annoyance.

"I'm serious, Jim," McCoy interrupted. "One hour maximum. In my medical opinion, even that much is probably pushing it." Kirk glared at him and McCoy sighed. "Don't make me pull rank. You know I will."

The captain narrowed his eyes in frustration, but he knew McCoy was probably right. He just didn't like being told he was limited, in any way. It grated on his nerves. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly and did his best to ignore McCoy's smug grin.

"Spock, go on ahead of me," Kirk said. "I'll be up as soon as I get changed."

Spock nodded and turned to leave, but halted as McCoy called after him. "Spock, I'm giving you a medical directive," he said firmly. Spock raised an eyebrow, and his eyes darted quickly between Kirk and McCoy. "You are to make certain that he goes to his quarters within one hour, and gets some rest. If he resists, nerve pinch him and drag him down here if necessary."

"Acknowledged, Doctor McCoy," Spock replied evenly. He glanced again at his captain, but Kirk and McCoy were now engaged in a blatant battle of wills and Spock decided to make a hasty retreat.

"Why did you have to do that?" Kirk snapped as the doors hissed closed.

McCoy smiled. "I've got it figured out," he said happily, ignoring Kirk's angry glare.

Kirk waited a second for McCoy to explain, but the doctor seemed content with that annoying smirk of his. "Got what figured out?" he demanded.

McCoy shook his head and crossed sickbay to where he had a fresh uniform folded on a counter. He handed the pile to Kirk and gave him a self-satisfied grin. "You're wasting your hour," was all he answered.

Kirk glared at the doctor for a moment, then decided to give up with a little grace. "All right, you win this one," he said with a sigh and began changing into his uniform.

McCoy nodded and gave Kirk a consoling pat on the arm before heading off to his office to give his patient some privacy and finish up his reports.

Kirk's irritation drained away shortly after McCoy left, and with it seemed to go most of his energy. Every muscle in his body ached, as though he'd been mountain climbing non stop for two days straight. He was tired. Very, very tired. His mouth was almost painfully dry and he thought about taking time to get a quick drink of water, but decided against it. He wasn't going to lose any more of his allotted hour.

He made his way to the turbolift, eager to check on the bridge. It wasn't that he didn't trust his command staff to run the ship in his absence, it was just that it was where he needed to be. He made certain his shoulders were straight and that none of his exhaustion showed by the time the lift doors parted again. Kirk let out a little sigh of happiness as the sounds washed over him, and paused just past the threshold to cast a critical eye over his domain.

He had less than one second to watch his crew work before Uhura noticed him, and she quickly stood with a small gasp. She took a step toward him, looking for all the world as if she were about to hug him. Instead, she dropped her hands gracefully to her sides. "Captain on the bridge," she announced with a wide smile, invoking the ancient, seldom used custom with a humorous twist of her mouth.

Instantly, everyone on the bridge fairly leapt from their seats and the captain received a barrage of grins. Chekov actually saluted, and seemed especially pleased with himself when Kirk singled him out with a laugh of disbelief.

Kirk waved a hand dismissively. "As you were, people," he said. His crew returned to their consoles, smiling and casting furtive glances over their shoulders and at each other.

The Enterprise had her captain back, safe and well, and the universe was right again.

"Welcome home, sir," Uhura said softly, and gently brushed her fingers against his wrist.

Kirk smiled at her. "Thank you," he murmured, and she returned to her station.

Kirk glanced around the bridge again, noting the almost buoyant mood, and had to smile. He looked over at Spock and his smile widened at the pleased expression that he caught a glimpse of before the Vulcan abruptly hid it away. The captain took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he settled into the command chair. It was good to be home. Within minutes, he was deluged by a succession of yeomen with reports for him to sign. He smiled quietly to himself as he did so, knowing that word of his release from sickbay was spreading through the corridors. It was embarrassing, really, but it also caused a pleasant warmth that helped combat the tired ache of his limbs as he read Spock's report on the mission.

When Spock materialized quietly at his right elbow, Kirk did not have to check the chronometer to know that precisely one hour had passed. He looked up at his first, and the quality of his smile changed to resignation. Kirk stilled the sarcastic comment that was perched on his tongue and instead shook his head in acceptance. When he stood, however, a wave of dizziness passed over him and he rested a hand on the arm of his chair for balance. He closed his eyes and it passed quickly. He glanced anxiously around the bridge, but his crew were busy attending their stations and no one had noticed the lapse.

Except for Spock, of course. Spock was regarding him with careful scrutiny, one hand curled over the opposite arm of the chair to keep it from spinning.

"Mind the store, Mister Sulu," Kirk called as he headed for the turbolift, and the helmsman acknowledged as Spock fell into step beside him. The crew would assume their captain was indulging one of his random urges to tour the ship. Kirk was in fact tempted to do so, but each stride served to convince him otherwise. It felt like he hadn't slept in a week. He was grateful when the doors slid closed and he could relax the forced pose of ease.

"Captain," Spock began, but Kirk silenced him with a small wave of his hand.

"Deck five," he told the computer and grasped the handle. He glanced at Spock as the lift began to move, and couldn't help a surge of frustration at his own weakness. "Don't worry, Mother, I'll be a good boy and take a nap," he said with annoyance. Spock dropped his gaze to the deck and Kirk instantly regretted snapping at his friend. The irritation ebbed away in the face of Spock's silent acceptance of the undeserved jibe. Kirk sighed as the lift slowed and came to a halt, but the apology died on his lips as Spock followed him into the corridor. His first officer was fairly hovering at his side as though he expected him to collapse at any moment.

"Dammit, Spock," Kirk began angrily, stopping abruptly to glare at him.

Spock cut him off. "I have been given direct orders to ensure that you rest, and I intend to follow those orders to the letter." He clasped his hands behind his back with calm determination and faced his captain's ire with patience born of experience dealing with this illogical, prideful, stubborn human.

"It's a conspiracy," Kirk muttered, and turned away. He didn't believe in the no-win scenario except when it came to this persistent, over zealous, stubborn Vulcan.

As they drew near his quarters, he was forced to admit that there was some cause for concern. His legs felt like they were growing heavier with each step and the thought that he might need help finishing the short trip was enough to grant him a brief surge of fear-induced strength. Spock entered the cabin after him, and Kirk didn't have enough energy left to be annoyed. The bed suddenly looked like a vision of heaven. He ignored his Vulcan shadow as he sat on the edge of the mattress and bent to unzip a boot.

"Is there anything you require, Captain?" Spock asked.

Kirk glanced at the lavatory door. His mouth felt like he'd swallowed a wad of cotton, and now that he'd stopped moving he found it was impossible to start again. The door was less than a meter from the bed, but it may as well have been a hundred light years away. He sighed in defeat. "Some water would be nice…"

Spock moved to comply, grateful that his captain had finally accepted the situation. He plucked the glass from its niche above the sink and filled it. He had been away less than thirty seconds, but when he returned he had to force down a spike of alarm. His captain lay sprawled on the bed, legs dangling over the side as though he had suddenly fallen over backwards. Spock quickly set the glass on the shelf-like headboard, and rested a hand against Kirk's chest to assure himself that he was breathing. His pulse was slow and steady against his palm, and Spock relaxed when it became evident that his captain had only succumbed to fatigue.

Spock hesitated, but decided that he could not leave his captain in this state. He would not rest well, or for long.

And so Spock knelt to finish Kirk's task, removing first one boot and then the other. He slipped his arms under Kirk's back and knees and shifted him so that he lay properly atop the bed. He paused as Kirk curled onto his side, murmuring something too soft for even Vulcan hearing to decipher. Despite his exhaustion, Kirk was too light a sleeper for Spock to risk tugging the blanket out from under him. Instead, he moved the glass to make certain it was within easy reach should thirst awaken him, and then crossed to the environment controls on the desk to raise the cabin temperature.

After a moment of consideration, he also adjusted the communication console to reroute any inquiries to the science station. Kirk would likely be irritated when he discovered this, but Spock was prepared to cite McCoy's orders in his own defense. The same logic applied when he dimmed the lights and set the door chime to silent as he left. He locked the door with his personal security code as second in command of the ship. The Enterprise would arrive at her destination in nine point seven hours, and Spock fully intended that his captain not be disturbed for as much of that time as possible.

His orders were quite explicit.

Duty and logic demanded nothing less.

That part of him which he consigned to his human side gently mocked him with quiet laughter that sounded suspiciously like McCoy.

~ Fini

Author's Note: This was my first multi-chaptered story, and I'd chosen to start off by focusing on my two favorite characters. In retrospect, I wish I had included McCoy because his reactions are always so priceless. Kirk and Spock interact with each other somewhat differently in McCoy's absence, however, and that was what I was aiming for here. But not to worry – for those of you missing the good doctor, be assured that he plays a lead role in the next episode.

Thanks for sticking with Dragons of Veyga until the end!

(In case anyone is wondering, I am aware that the accepted spelling of the disease is Vegan Choriomeningitis. However, I have vegetarians and vegans in my family and calling the natives of this planet Vegans just kept irritating me for some reason. To the best of my knowledge, the term is not actually spelled out anywhere in canon, in any of the shows. So I took a bit of a liberty there. Also, I want to add that it wouldn't be a true Trek story without at least one massive loose end. That said, however, the working title of the sequel is 'The Renegades of Veyga'. Not any time soon, though, unfortunately. My Muse is currently obsessed with a tale starring Spock and McCoy stuck in Iowa's past attempting to save an infant Kirk from a Klingon assassin with a stolen alien time-travel device…)