My head pounded. My eyelids felt like lead. What had hit me? Then I remembered that I had been caught. "Spock," I murmured and forced my eyes open. "Spock."

I was lying face up on a wooden floor in a lamplit room. Only the breathing and movement of people around me broke the quiet. I had difficulty in focussing but after a few seconds my vision began to clear. I took a deep breath. I had thought myself cautious in my attempt to breach the outpost but somehow the guards had caught me. So much for my academy stealth training.

Carefully, so as not to startle anyone, I raised myself into a sitting position. I froze as cold metal touched the side of my neck and a voice demanded, "Who or what is Spock?"

So, Spock had not given his name. Whatever his reason, it must be a good one. I would follow his lead. "He is a friend." I glanced down to see a long-bladed knife pressed against my skin.

"Another Roman?" the voice jeered.

"I am not a Roman. Neither is he."

The knife was taken away but before I could move, my arms were tied behind me and my head forced down by unyielding hands. Only once the bonds were secure was I allowed to look up. My inquisitor was a fair-haired, bearded man who had the natural command air of a leader. He studied me with barely restrained contempt.

"You look like a Roman to me," he said. "Short hair, beardless, and you wear the uniform."

"Sir, I'm searching for my friend. I found dead soldiers close to the forest temple and took their clothing as a disguise. It seemed the safest thing to do in case I came across Romans."

"Did your disguise work?" the man asked with a sneer.

"Yes. They let me stay at their forts and gave me a fresh uniform."

"You're a spy. Name yourself, Roman."

I tried to show my sincerity by an unflinching gaze and even tone. "My name is James Kirk and I am not, I repeat, a Roman."

"Perhaps he speaks some truth, Wurguist," another interjected. Had my explanation worked? An older man came into my line of vision. "He does not seem like a Roman."

"Many flock to their banner. They have conquered the world by fathering children in all their occupied territories. He is but one of these." Wurguist said. "No, Gorvus. He is a Roman."

He bent and picked up my carryall, which in the struggle, must have been wrenched from me. Damn, I should have hidden it, I chastised myself.

Wurguist struggled with the catch. It was code-locked and only pure luck would open it unless the correct sequence was known. Frustrated now, Wurguist took out his knife and attempted to cut the material but finding it resistant, he flung the carryall to the other and said, "You try it, Druid."

So the other man was a priest. I searched my memory for anything I'd read about the druids. One thing was certain; they held great power. Some legends told of magical abilities but I doubted if that were true. Knowledge could appear like magic to the gullible. However I kept an open mind for I had seen many strange things during my career.

The druid fiddled with the carryall. "What kind of trickery is this?" he exclaimed.

Wurguist grabbed me by the throat and held the knife to my ear. "You will open the satchel or I will kill you," he threatened.

I blinked and was about to speak when a long-fingered hand encircled Wurguist's wrist and a well-known deep voice spoke. "These threats are illogical."
Spock.

I gulped and looked sideways, shock rippling through me as the difference in Spock's appearance registered. How had his hair grown so long in just two days? I dismissed that question for the moment and concentrated on more important matters. He was obviously playing the role of a Vanyar but I didn't know the circumstances surrounding his being here. I needed to take my cues from him. My tension began to ease. I had found him and, despite the report that he had been stabbed and struck by a sword, he wasn't at death's door, as I had feared. I shivered as I remembered the pain that had seared through the link.
Vulcans could self-heal. The last time Spock had suffered a head injury, and exacerbated by the very real danger of hypothermia, his healing ability had been severely curtailed. Perhaps this time it hadn't been affected. How else would he be walking about like this? I gave silent thanks as I drank in his very presence.

"Lord Vanyar, the Romans only understand violence," Wurguist stated. "How else will we learn what we need to?"

At Wurguist's gasp of pain my attention was drawn away from Spock I could see the skin of Pict's arm turning white. "Release this man. I will take the satchel," Spock said.

Wurguist had gone pale. He nodded and as his wrist was freed he gingerly drew his hand away from me. Spock was staring at me and, as my eyes met his, I tried to convey some kind of reassurance that we would both get out of here alive. To my surprise the warmth, the recognition, the spark between us was not there. He's acting, I reminded myself but a shiver of dread slid through me as a small voice inside questioned that assumption.

The druid handed Spock the carryall. "Perhaps you, my lord, will find the way to open it."

Spock accepted it then returned his attention to me. "Who are you?" he asked.

Then realisation dawned. Spock wasn't acting at all. His memory had been affected. He didn't know me. He really didn't know me! I hadn't expected this and it needed delicate handling. "My name is James Kirk," I said. "I come from T'Varon." I was careful not to say too much.

His eyebrows rose as he considered my words. "Your face is familiar. Where is T'Varon?"

Relief left me weak. His memory was not totally lost then. I must jog it. Surely it would return given time and stimulus. "T'Varon is not a place but a ship. She is far away fighting the enemy."

"What enemy?" Wurguist butted in.

"An enemy of Alba," I said with caution.

"Rome?"

"They're called Irzae." It would mean nothing to the Picts but Spock might remember the name.

"Lord Vanyar, do you believe him?" the druid asked.

"Indeed, I do. Wurguist, this man interests me," Spock said.

"He is a Roman spy. He should be interrogated and, once we find out what he knows, executed." Wurguist stared down at me with hatred. "Death is too good for him."

I would not show this man my fear and instead stared up at Spock. If ever I needed your help, my friend, it's now. I spoke with my heart, my eyes, and my very soul.

"I do not approve of such bloodthirsty methods. This man has a right to be heard in a fair trial." Spock seemed puzzled as if he was striving to remember where he knew me from.

"We have no time for trials. Especially for Romans," Wurguist responded.

The druid stepped forward. "Lord Vanyar's wisdom is great. He is here to help us. His words should be heeded."

Wurguist was not pleased but used, no doubt, to conceding to the druid he said, "Very well. When there is time the Roman will be put on trial. Until then he is your slave, Lord Vanyar, if that is what you wish."

Perfect. That way I'll be able to be alone with him. I'll make him remember who he is.

"Slavery is morally wrong," Spock replied. His personal ethics had not changed despite his loss of memory. I just hoped they wouldn't listen to him on this.

"Your servant then," Wurguist said. "But keep him under control and out of our way."

"Very well," Spock said. He bent down, dragged me up by my bound arms and led me out of the hall to what must have been the outpost commander's rooms.

He pushed me down onto a chair and, sitting opposite, tried to open the carryall. His fingers, if not his mind, recalled my usual code and it snapped open. He delved inside, his eyes widening when he saw the items there.

"Do you remember those, Spock?" I asked.

His head jerked up. "I am the one you search for?"

"Yes. You recognised me didn't you? You knew how to unlock the catch. Try to remember the T'Varon, the obelisk, the Irzae."

He studied the tricorder and again his hands seemed to know something of what they were doing. He chewed at his lower lip. "I do not understand what this device is."

"Untie me and I'll show you," I said. "I give you my word that I won't try to escape."

He stared at me for a long time and I couldn't read him at all. It was almost as if he were a stranger to me. "You do not lower your gaze," he commented.

"Should I?" I asked. He'd been intimidating the Picts with those eyes of his had he? I could be affected just like anyone else and sometimes more so than most, but not right now. I smiled a little. "Spock, we are friends. Don't you remember?"

He shook his head. "I remember nothing." But to my great relief and gratitude he stood up, came over and unbound me.

"Thanks," I said, rubbing my sore wrists.

"It is unkind to leave a person in discomfort." He had returned to his chair and was watching me. At least he had not lost his concern for me. How I wanted to make him remember everything. If he didn't then how could I persuade him to leave these people and go where we could wait for the T'Varon in safety.
Then there was the prime directive to consider. Every moment we were here increased the chances of breaking it. Anything Spock had done was negligible, I hoped, and had been unavoidable. Luckily the neighbouring Vulcans had started the myth of the Vanyar or else this planet's innocence of alien life could already have been destroyed. As for the Irzae attack, it could only be hoped that the natives believed it to be of divine nature. Of course one could say that whoever had left the obelisk had already interfered with the culture here. It was a matter best left to Federation lawyers.

I knelt down beside Spock and touched the tricorder he again held between his hands. "The screen is showing life-signs. These are human." I changed the setting. "And that one is yours."

"I am different to you and the others. That is obvious." He glanced at me then back to the readings. "How does this work?"

"We come from the T'Varon, Spock. A ship with all sorts of machines like this on it. Try to remember. You were on a landing party. You were attacked by Romans and injured." I lifted the carryall and rummaged inside for the mediscanner. He grabbed my arm and I groaned with the pain, for he didn't or couldn't temper his strength. "I want to show you... "

"Silence," he commanded. "You have not been given permission to touch the satchel."

I clenched my teeth as his grip tightened. Damn. I'd forgotten I was meant to be his servant. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

I was filled with frustration and pain. Why did he not trust me? I had thought the bond we shared could withstand everything and anything life could throw at it. It seemed I was wrong. Idiot! I lashed out at myself for thinking so negatively. How was he expected to trust me? I was telling him what must seem like all kinds of fanciful tales. He was disorientated and distressed by his amnesia. I needed to be patient with him. He was my responsibility and I would bring us both through this.

"I ask forgiveness," he said, suddenly releasing me. Had he sensed my pain? Was his telepathy working at a low level? I had not noticed anything for the usual slight tingle of his psi-energy was absent. Were his Vulcan abilities working intermittently? Were they suppressed or was he losing them? I blinked back a tear. Without them he would be handicapped.

* * *

A flash of memory unwound before Vanyar's eyes. In it, this man played a major role.

Kirk's emotions were palpable. "There is nothing to forgive," he said to me. "You have made my life tolerable. I sincerely hope we can be friends."

I recoiled from him in fear. "You know not what you say. It is impossible."

His hurt hit me like a tidal wave. "I will remove myself from your presence. Perhaps in my quarters, out of sight, I will cease to be an embarrassment to you."

He ran out of the room but I followed and found him sheltering, like some injured creature, in his quarters. "Mr Kirk, your emotions are disturbing the harmony on this ship. You must learn to restrain them."

"How can I do that when I don't know the rules," he replied in an angry tone. "I am treated like an outcast. No-one is friendly."

"Do I treat you as an outcast?" I was confused. He disturbed me like no-one had done before. "Mr Kirk."

"Please call me Jim," he said.

"Jim," I said, unable to stop myself responding to that heartfelt plea.

His smile seemed to light up his face, his eyes sparkled, and great joy poured from him. In alarm I stepped back a pace.

The scene disappeared as rapidly as it had arrived. Vanyar concentrated on trying to recover the memory. I called him, Kirk. He requested that I call him, Jim. He said the name aloud. "Jim."

The man's eyes filled and almost overflowed. In embarrassment Vanyar looked away. The other's emotions made him uncomfortable yet something inside Vanyar wanted to reassure Kirk.

"Yes, you do call me, Jim," Kirk said, in control now. "Do you remember anything else?"

"I recalled something but it has receded now. I only know that you were there." He shook his head and changed the subject. "What is that you wish in here?" He indicated the satchel.

"May I?" Kirk asked.

Vanyar nodded then watched as Kirk withdrew a small device. "What is it?" he asked.

"A scanner. It can tell me if you're ill. If an injury is causing the amnesia and if there is a cure."

"Proceed," Vanyar said, curious about the instrument.

Kirk touched the larger machine. "I've changed it to medical mode. I pass the scanner over your body like this. It then sends signals, which are displayed on the tricorder screen. "There's some kind of bruising. I don't understand much more. I only took the required first aid training. I don't know much about amnesia but if you are getting flashes of memory then it must be a good sign."

"You are the key. I do know you. Will you assist me in recovering my memory?"

The force of Kirk's grin was disconcerting. "Of course, I will." He returned his attention to the device. "There are indications of neurological trauma. Spock, what happened to your other injuries? Did you go into healing trance?"

"Gorvus says that I was gravely wounded. He is convinced that I healed myself during sleep." Vanyar waited for Kirk's reply. Obviously the other knew more than he did. It was frustrating that Kirk was so familiar yet Vanyar could not pinpoint details of past interaction with him.

"Then your healing ability is working. Okay, Spock, would you let me try an experiment?" The expression in Kirk's eyes changed and Vanyar could not analyse it. He did, however, find himself agreeing without fully comprehending why.

Kirk seemed to centre himself before continuing, "There's a thing, a kind of talking without verbal speech that we do. To initiate it, you have to place your fingers in a particular pattern on my face. Does this mean anything to you?"

Something stirred in Vanyar's mind but he could not quite reach it. "No," he replied.

Kirk's disappointment was clear but quickly masked. "Will you try?"

"Very well. What shall I do?"

He watched in fascination as his hand was gripped and brought to the other's face. "Do you remember where the contact points are?" Kirk asked.

Vanyar shook his head. "Negative."

"I'll show you."

There was something familiar about this. Vanyar spread his fingers and it was as if they wanted to press against those points and what? He chewed at his lower lip in frustration. He should be sensing something now. He closed his eyes and words came unbidden to his lips. "My mind to your mind," he began but could not recall the remainder of the phrase.

"Yes, that's it, Spock. Now you say - 'My thoughts to your thoughts,'" Kirk prompted.

Vanyar repeated the words but nothing happened. It was as if a heavy weight in his head would not permit him to break through and speak in this private manner. The pain this caused took him by surprise and he drew his hand away. "It is useless," he said in a hoarse voice. "I know you do not lie. I feel I should be able to speak to you in this fashion and there is something further missing which is more than just memory. Tell me what it is."

Kirk sank back on his heels and his unhappiness was only too clear. "Spock, you come from a people known as Vulcans. A race known here as Vanyar. You have certain special abilities, some of which are damaged. You are a touch telepath that means you can sense thoughts and feelings when in contact with another. There should be an energy flowing from your fingers but I couldn't sense it."

"I have experienced this," Vanyar said.

"When?" Kirk asked, his eyes growing bright with hope.

"As I eased my pain." Vanyar interlaced his fingers. "It was most effective."

"Then your psi gifts are functioning, intermittently perhaps but still there. If you're actually aware of the healing energy then maybe..." Kirk straightened up. "Will you try to ease this ache in the back of my neck? You've healed me before, Spock. Please will you try? We might be able to connect again."

Vanyar nodded. "That is logical."

Kirk sniffed then smiled, "Exactly, Spock. It is logical."

Vanyar frowned but did not reply. He reached out and, as Kirk bent his head, touched the ugly bruise on the human's neck.

* * *

The intensity of Kirk's pain almost overwhelmed me and I attempted to ignore it. A short time later I realised it was impossible. He was about to lose consciousness and there had to be something I could do to help. I gripped his arm and willed his pain and nausea to ease, insisting that he not succumb to the blackness. He opened his eyes and stared at me, his attention not wavering as I prepared to heal his injuries.First I required his permission. He readily gave it, placing all his trust in me. Our eyes seemed to lock and a strange silence surrounded us. We communicated in some non-verbal manner that I did not understand then trying to control my shock, I said, "If you trust me, Jim, I am confident that the healing will be successful."

"I trust you," he confirmed my telepathic impression. "What must I do?"

"Relax and accept the healing power, I will do the rest," I told him.

"I'll do as you say," he replied.

I placed my hands on his injured leg and the power flowed from my fingertips to his damaged ligaments. It was a gradual process but they responded and began to heal. It was not easy to maintain the healing, for it was draining me at an alarming rate. I knew that I must not yield to my tiredness and, drawing on inner reserves, found the will to continue. My defences weakened. I was not prepared for his indomitable personality that captured and enmeshed my weary spirit. For a moment we were together, in a harmony of souls, but fearful of what had occurred I forced myself away. I knelt there, disorientated and more afraid than I had been since my childhood.

What had just happened between us?

Vanyar dragged his hand away. He stared down at his fingers, shocked by the vividness of the memory now racing away from him. He tried to hold onto it for he knew the occasion must have been of great import but try as he might, it was impossible to regain.

A strangled sob disturbed him and his attention was drawn to the kneeling man, now bowed over in some kind of discomfort. "Jim," he said.

Kirk straightened, took a shuddering breath, and looked up. "The ache is gone. Thanks."

"Does something else ail you?"

"I shared the memory but you don't recall it now, do you?"

Vanyar shook his head. "I regret," he began then lapsed into silence.

Kirk seemed to struggle for control. Vanyar reached out as if to comfort him then thought better of it. He clasped his hands together and waited for Kirk to speak. After one point two minutes, Kirk stood up. Vanyar frowned. How had he known the elapsed time?

"At least I know that you do have real memory flashes. That particular time was a turning point for us." Kirk faced him. "Your healing power is active, your instinctive responses are also there, so there's real hope." He hesitated then asked, "Spock, how long has it been since I was caught?"

"Thirty four point seven five minutes," Vanyar responded without thinking.

A smile spread over Kirk's face. "Good. Your time sense is okay." He pulled a chair over and sat down. "What do you remember of the events before the Picts found you?"

It was obviously important to Kirk so Vanyar tried to recall anything. Split second impressions exploded in his mind. "A clearing. Romans. A fight." A sudden flash of others like himself blazed its way through the memory void. "Two females and a male. Pointed ears. Dark hair."

"Yes, Spock. The landing party." Kirk's voice was shaking with emotion.

There was pain. Blackness. Vanyar closed his eyes. "Nothing more."

"Spock." A hand touched his arm. "It's okay. It'll come back."

Vanyar opened his eyes and found himself under intense regard. He swallowed uncomfortable with the emotions, which he was beginning to sense, from the other "Do not call me that name within hearing of the tribe. To them I am Vanyar."

"That would be wise, Spock. They don't need to know you're the one I was looking for." Kirk gripped his arm. "We must return to the clearing. If we have any chance of rescue it will be there."

"Why would I go with you?" Vanyar asked.

"It's where you belong," Kirk replied. "With me. On the T'Varon."

His words had a ring of truth to them but Vanyar wondered why he trusted this man, who was to all appearances a Roman. Further he believed his stories of a ship named T'Varon and of his own ability to read another's thoughts. There was something else; something that Kirk had not mentioned but was obvious to Vanyar's heightened senses. Although Vanyar did not recall the details, the memory flash had revealed a profound and intriguing relationship between himself and Kirk. One that Kirk was desperate to recover. One that Vanyar found himself reaching for.

"Fascinating," he said aloud. "Tell me more of this."

"You and the other three were sent to the obelisk - the temple - on a mission."

Vanyar searched his fragmented memory. "There is a vague recollection of a power surge."

"Yes. You reported how the obelisk came alive and injured the Roman soldier. You were ordered to remain and watch. Is any of this familiar?" Kirk's expression was full of hope.

Embarrassed, Vanyar looked down at the tricorder. "This ceased to work."

"That's right. It's one reason you weren't aware of the other Romans approaching. One ran you through with his sword. If your heart had been in the same place as a human's, you'd be dead."

Vanyar shook his head. "I do not recall." He looked up and studied the light-haired man beside him. "We are friends, are we not?"

Kirk's happiness was tangible. "We are, Spock, but it's more than that. We are t'hy'la - bondbrothers."

The strange yet familiar word sent a chill through Vanyar's body. "T'hy'la. Bondbrothers," he repeated. "Fascinating."

***

I fought to control my emotions. Spock had recognised me and knew we were friends. Reliving the healing had been overwhelming. Unfortunately it was now a blank to Spock but I comforted myself with the knowledge that some ground had been gained. Surely his memory would return given time. I would help him by gradually feeding him appropriate details in the hope that they would trigger a response.

I wondered about that long hair. I couldn't be sure but the only answer that made any sense was that a healing trance sped up the body's metabolic rate and stimulated hair growth. The style suited him but under normal circumstances he would have been appalled by its length for Spock liked everything neat and precise. The lack of facial hair was simple to explain. He was too young, in Vulcan terms, to have developed any. Once we returned to the ship I would ask if I was right about the physical side effects of the healing process; until then it was unimportant.

A shadow fell across the doorway. "May I come in, Lord Vanyar?"

The druid was a formidable man. Tall and distinguished in his bright robes. There was no harm in showing respect so I vacated my chair and offered it to him. He nodded in acknowledgement and sat down. "What have you discovered?" he asked, looking at the tricorder lying on Spock's lap.

"Very little," Spock replied. "Inside the satchel are ship's instruments. I am familiar with them. They are not Roman nor is Kirk. I believe that he tells the truth and may be able to help me recover my memory. He will stay with me."

"Wurguist is angry," the druid replied. "He still wants to kill your servant as a spy. I have dissuaded him for the present."

I didn't need Wurguist to keep up his spite against me. I had to try and gain Gorvus' trust. He would make a good ally. "Sir," I ventured.

Gorvus turned to me. "Does your master permit you to speak?"

I glanced at Spock for approval, and said, "Yes, my lord. I swear I'm not a Roman spy. I know nothing of them. I only search for a friend."

"Is Lord Vanyar that friend?" he asked.

Damn. He's too perceptive. I'll have to give him some version of the truth. "I've been sent by his shipmates to bring him back. He is very important to them."

"What of our battle against Rome? No, Lord Vanyar must stay." Gorvus glared at me. "He was sent to us."

"It was an accident. He was not meant to stay here."

"Silence," Spock said. "It is my choice. I am indebted to these people and will remain. You will not speak further."

Damn. Now he's in first officer mode again. But how can I obey him when he's not in full control of his faculties? I bowed my head and replied, "Very well, sir." For the present I would submit to his wishes. Who was I kidding - I meant his orders!

Gorvus smiled. "You are used to commanding men."

"Indeed. Amongst my own people my rank is a high one." Spock stared at me as if a flashback had just occurred. "Kirk's presence is essential to the return of my memory. I would ask that you keep what he has told you to yourself. I would not have the tribe fear that I would abandon them."

"Certainly, Lord Vanyar, a druid holds many secrets," Gorvus replied. "One last thing. We leave at dawn for the next outpost. Keep your servant close to you. If Wurguist even suspects he is attempting escape his life will be forfeit."

Spock acknowledged those words and once Gorvus had left he stood up. "You will sleep there," he said, pointing to a corner of the floor at the far side of the room. I glanced with envy to the large comfortable looking bed that Spock had appropriated and sighed. Well, where else would a servant sleep, I chided myself. Surely even a lowly slave would have a pallet of some sort, I countered.

I debated whether to ignore the captain's orders and try contacting the ship but decided against it. I would break communications silence only if there was no other choice.

The night was cold and I huddled, shivering, under a thin blanket on the hard floor. I can usually sleep anywhere but I was tense after the events of the last hours and so damn cold.

After a while I heard movement then Spock's voice. "You may sleep at the foot of the bed."

I didn't argue. I was aching all over but moved fast before he could change his mind. In the almost pitch darkness I could barely discern the bed but I was somehow able to home in on Spock's presence and reached the wooden base without falling over anything.

"Thanks," I said as I curled up across the bed. It was hard but not as bad as the floor. "Are you warm enough?" I asked. "You feel the cold more than I do."

There was a moment's hesitation before he replied, "There was ice and snow and I was injured."

He was remembering when we crash-landed on an ice-planet and had taken refuge in a cave. I sat up and inched my way over to him holding out my hand. Our fingertips met, and I fell headlong into his memory.

I was in a cocoon of warmth. Jim was with me and we spoke mind to mind. It is the bond of brotherhood, I informed him.

Jim's interest was intense. Brotherhood? Tell me about it.

Those who join in a spontaneous spiritual meeting of mind and soul, I said. Telepaths understand and take an active part in such a relationship. Even if only one has telepathic ability he can assist the other to participate, if that other is willing, I said.

I am willing, Jim replied.

I know but you do not need much assistance. You are the catalyst. You reached my mind by some method of your own. You asked once what had happened during the healing. I did not dare then to believe it but during the meld you caught me. I could not escape your intensity of purpose. You knew not what you were doing, Jim, but you instinctively recognised in me the one who am your balance, your other self, and your brother in spirit.

He listened in growing awe and delight that became remorse as I added, I was afraid of you. I still am.

Jim was deeply moved by that admission. I wouldn't cause you distress. Teach me Vulcan restraint, I can't bombard you with my emotions.
If you will teach me to be more human, at least with you, I replied.

His joy flowed through me. I gasped at its power but accepted it. I don't know how to teach you that. I can only give you the love of a friend - a brother.
His emotions grew more intense and conflicting as I replied, I have never known this. Is it pleasant?

Spock jerked his hand away. "Sleep is essential," he said, his voice cold.

Still caught up in the emotion of the flashback, I swallowed and tried to control the tears that had welled up in my eyes. "Has the memory gone?" I asked.

"Affirmative," came the curt reply.

"Do you remember anything of it?"

"Negative."

I bit back my disappointment. "It was a special time, Spock. We discovered our bond of brotherhood. It'll all come back to you, don't worry." I returned to my place at the foot of the bed and eventually fell into a fitful doze. Sometime during the night I came half awake as another cover was placed over me. I smiled at Spock's thoughtfulness and settled into a deeper sleep.

We left shortly after dawn. The Romans always went bare-legged and didn't appear to feel the cold but I wondered how many of them caught chills and fevers. Even wrapped in my cloak, I was shivering. As the morning progressed it became warmer. The sun blazed in the sky and this place was so like Earth that I became homesick. I'm not sure how Alba compared to present day or even third or fourth century Scotland. There was equally magnificent scenery but further than that I could not tell. I could easily believe, though, that I had been transported back to Roman Scotland. Albeit another Roman Scotland.

We camped out of the mid-day heat and I was summoned into Wurguist's presence. Spock stood beside me so I was not too concerned. The warleader asked me questions about the outpost ahead which I answered to the best of my knowledge. I was giving no secrets away, for it was almost identical to the last one and Wurguist seemed satisfied. I hoped the outpost commander, Vettius Severus, would see sense and not attempt to fight this army. His fifty men were grossly outnumbered.

We travelled in the afternoon and made camp before sundown. The siege was to be at first light. To my surprise I was again ordered to Wurguist's tent. Spock did not object but he came with me.

The leader's words surprised me. "I wish you to parley with the commander. Offer him terms of surrender. Is he a man who would consider it?"

"Sir, when he thought me a Roman, the commander was very hospitable. He is a soldier of many years standing. A sensible, able man but proud. I doubt if he would consider surrender."

I was becoming more enmeshed in these people's disputes. But what could I do about it right now? I had to continue playing my part and get both Spock and myself away as soon as possible.

"Very well. With Lord Vanyar's permission, you will go. Take warning that if you side with them or do not return by morning I will give you to the druid for sacrifice to the gods."

That's all I need. What an end to the glorious career of James T. Kirk. I took a deep breath and thought carefully about my answer. "I pledge to Lord Vanyar that I will return. I've no wish to remain at the outpost. They can't win against you. I'll try and persuade them of that." As I waited for his response I looked over at Spock. There was a frown on his face but as he was determined on there being no more bloodshed he would allow my departure.

"What say you, Lord Vanyar?" Wurguist asked.

He was silent for some moments before replying, "Kirk has my permission. If he can save lives it will be worthwhile."

After being briefed on the conditions of surrender, I left the tent accompanied by Spock. Before I mounted my horse, I handed him the carryall. "Please keep it safe until my return." I chewed at my lip and looked at my friend. "Take care," I said.

There was confusion in his eyes as he replied, "I shall await your return, Jim."

I was pleased at him calling me by my first name and a sudden longing for the past months overcame me. "We'll get back home. I promise you. Everything will return to normal. You're my friend. We've known a unity that few have ever experienced." There was a touch of alarm on his face similar to those times when my emotional behaviour had unsettled him. Perhaps he was aware of it now. If only. "I'm sorry. I know my emotions are hard for you to bear."

He placed his hand on my shoulder in parting. "Jim, I do not understand."

My vision blurred and I slipped into another flashback.

I grabbed him by both shoulders and shook him hard. "You are not listening to me, Jim," I said. "I asked for your help in overcoming my reserve with you. I wish to overcome it. You have ended my isolation and loneliness. I will not return to such emptiness."

With an impulsive show of bravado and to prove my sincerity, I pulled him into a hug that almost knocked the breath from his body.

Instead of protesting Jim laughed and balanced himself as the mind-link flared up between us.

Physical contact is most interesting, I commented.

If you can breathe, he countered.

I eased the pressure. Sometimes I neglected to compensate for my greater strength. You trust me. Your mind is completely open to me.
I trust you like no other, he said. I don't understand the bond of brotherhood. I only know it's right.

I thank thee, I replied formally.

Anyway I could free myself if I resorted to dirty tactics.

Jim never failed to amaze me. I held him in an unbreakable hold. Indeed! I replied with disbelief.

"But I don't think I'll try," he replied aloud to my further surprise. "I feel too safe here."

I would never understand his quirky humanity but the trying would be most interesting.

I blinked as the moment ended. I remembered it well. It was the time when Spock had finally decided that he wanted to show that he could be more human - at least with me. Now he yanked his hand away as if stung and I could see the memory fading from his eyes.

He stepped back and, with a pang of regret, I turned away. Seconds later I left on my mission.

I encountered no problems and on reaching my destination, the guard let me in and I was escorted to Severus at once. "So you decided to come back," he said. "A sensible move."

I sipped at the wine he gave me and once settled down, I dropped my bombshell. "The next outpost has been taken by the Picts. They captured me and sent me with a message for you. I am able to offer you the conditions for your surrender."

He jumped to his feet but before he could issue any orders I grabbed his arm and pushed him back onto his chair. "They're just under a mile away preparing to attack you. They're looking for a way not to spill any more blood. Think, sir, of the lives of your men."

"Traitor," he spat. "You do their bidding like a pet dog."

"Severus, you're outnumbered more than four to one. They'll overrun you just like they did the other outposts. There's been enough bloodshed. If you surrender, they'll let you go unharmed."

"Surrender to barbarians! Run away like curs!" Severus' face grew purple with rage. "What kind of Roman are you? We don't abandon our forts. We defend them to the last man."

"Think of the families of your men. Their children," I countered.

"Roman soldiers know the risks. We will not submit to barbarians."

Despite any argument I could throw at him, he would have none of it and called his guards in. "Lock this traitor up. He'll be dealt with when the Picts are defeated."

Unarmed combat skills helped me dispatch three of the Romans but it was a difficult and dirty fight. Eventually I was overcome and thrown into a cell. Left there alone as the outpost prepared for battle I cursed my bad luck as I tried to clean my bruises and scrapes, minor at least, with strips torn from my clothing. I tried to relax but it wasn't easy. Whatever the outcome of the fighting it seemed that I was going to die unless Spock could intervene.

* * *

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