DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of Cheree Cargill and is copyright (c) 2002 by Cheree Cargill. This story is Rated NC-17 for sexual situations.

THE CASTAWAYS

by Cheree Cargill

PART NINE

"WALKING IN THE PROMISED LAND"

Gradually daylight penetrated the scattered timbers that littered the hillside. The cut and shaped logs had once been a cabin but that fact was hard to distinguish now. Fallen pines and broken deciduous trees nearly obliterated the ruined dwelling and mudslides had wiped away any signs of habitation, leaving little more than deadfall.

Overhead stretched a crystal clear, incongruously blue sky, swept to pristine clarity by the past night's hurricane winds. Birdsong and the gurgle of still swollen streams rushing down the hillside were the only sounds, underlain by the soft whisper of the distant ocean lapping onto a scoured beach. Higher up, detritus lay thickly amid the downed trees, but on the beach itself, the waves had taken back to sea nearly all that it had brought in with the storm surge.

Down near the jutting cliffs, the body of a large marine animal lolled in the surf and already was the source of contention between ocean-dwelling scavengers and those of the land. But the sounds of their squabble was too far away to disturb the birds that had returned to search out their destroyed nest sites in the former clearing.

As the dawn wore on into full morning, a log in the pile abruptly moved, scattering the birds to flight. The log lifted, shunted to one side and fell back, revealing a human hand. Or a Vulcan hand, in actuality, for the scrapes and cuts that marred it bled green, streaking through the dirt and mud that covered it. It was joined by another that grasped the next log and strained to move it as well.

This resulted in an opening and a dirty, disheveled, black-haired man emerged, forcing his way to freedom, almost like a hatchling emerging from a nesting burrow.

Out in the open at last, Spock lay catching his breath for a long minute, his vision still blurry and his head still pounding from the blow he'd received the night before when the cabin had collapsed. Christine and the three children were still buried underneath the fallen structure, their only hope of survival lying in the fact that all had been huddled up under the rock overhang that formed a section of the back side of the cabin.

There was a scrabbling sound and Spock forced his eyes to seek its source. A few seconds later, their pet hunting cat, Scruff, clawed her way out of the debris, her black-spotted golden fur nearly covered with mud. Looking around wildly, she gave a scratchy meow and then leaped nimbly away over the piled timbers and disappeared from sight.

Spock thought no more about the little animal. She had proven again and again that she could fend for herself, although she chose to stay with her "family" when not away hunting. Wearily, the Vulcan got to his feet, balancing precariously, and began the task of digging out his wife and children. As he did so, he spared a thought toward the home they had lost in the storm and to another that he had built far away...

* * *

The morning fog had lifted and had nearly burned away, but the long grass through which Spock waded was still wet with dew and soaked his leather moccasins and leggings. Behind him, Christine picked her way along the trail he had made, the baby peeking curiously out from the carry cloth across her mother's front. In the rear, Sapel trod the same pathway, keeping an eye out for Scruffy, who was hunting mice in the grass.

They had been wandering for a month now after escaping Lemuria, intent on getting back to their valley home, but delayed by heavy rains and swollen rivers, so that they were forced farther and farther north as they searched for a way across to the east. So far, they had been thwarted, for the early summer downpours had caused the rivers and creeks to jump their banks, spreading out over their flood plains and forming an impenetrable barrier. Instead, the travelers had taken to the higher ground of the foothills, climbing more toward the mountains. The peaks stretched along the western horizon, then took a "S" curve to the east and then marched on to the north. The streams and rivers that ran from their slopes were becoming more numerous, forming the upper branches of the big river they'd been following for days now. Spock was beginning to think they were going to have to go all the way to its headwaters before it would be narrow enough for them to cross.

Summer was advancing steadily and he was also worried about such things as permanent shelter, enough food to feed them through the winter, clothing and other necessary provisions. They had not taken any more than they could carry when they had left the Teela'u and Spock had done his best to hunt as they journeyed north. Fortunately, it was a time of plenty, with spring calves and foals doubling the population of the herds of game animals, and he had no problem securing enough food for their needs.

But the would have to find a place to settle soon if they didn't make it back to the valley with the next two or three weeks. He had no intention of taking them back to Sea Home for at least a year. The war between the Teela'u and their rivals, the Teeli, made that impossible. There was also the possibility that the Teeli were looking for them, to exact revenge for the death of their leader, Su'a, and Spock would not subject his family to that sort of danger. In any case, no matter what the political situation in the south, getting back to the valley or finding a new place to live was increasingly imperative.

Spock paused atop a hummock and surveyed the terrain before them, his keen eyesight searching out obstacles and dangers as well as any game. They were low on food. He would need to hunt very soon.

Christine joined him and the two stood, the breeze ruffling their hair. "What a lovely place," she commented, hoisting T'Jenn up free of the carry cloth so that the baby could see. She was nearly seven months old now and beginning to crawl when she got the chance. A big baby at birth, she had continued to gain weight steadily and was now quite a burden for her mother to carry. Christine parked the child on her hip and eased her back a little as they stood.

"Indeed," Spock answered, squinting against the wind. "The rains have made it quite lush. I see a herd of grazers across the valley there. I can't make out what they are, however."

"Do you want to find a camp then and stay for a few days?" his wife asked, aware of their need to replenish their supplies.

"I believe it would be a good idea," he answered. He looked over the gentle valley and then pointed. "There. That spot at the base of the hill appears to be sheltered. There are trees and I can see a stream. We'll head for there and make camp if it is suitable."

"Okay. Sounds good to me." Christine slipped T'Jenn back into her sling and took up her walking stick. "Sapel!" she called to her son, who was exploring off to one side. "Don't get lost!"

"I won't, Mama!" he called back. "Scruffy's caught a rabbit! I'm just gonna get it."

Spock and Christine waited until the boy came running back, clutching the cat's kill by its long hind legs. "Look! This'll be a good lunch!"

"Wonderful! Be sure and give her the innards," the woman reminded him.

"I always do." Sapel bent to scratch his pet between the ears. "Good girl, Scruff!"

The hunting cat purred and followed close behind her young master as the family set off again. Abruptly, though, she halted and her tufted black ears shot to attention, her green eyes huge as she turned all her senses toward something she had detected. Quivering, she stood rapt for several long moments, then uttered a soft meow. Then, just as quickly, she shot after her family and stayed close to them for the rest of the morning.

* * *

The buck jumped wildly to one side and disappeared an instant before the shaft thunked into the tree trunk behind it.

"Pekhaya!" Spock said in exasperation, causing Christine to laugh reflexively at his language, but then followed him up the slope as he went to retrieve his arrow.

"What?" Sapel wanted to know.

"Oh, Papa said a bad word," his mother answered but didn't elaborate. They'd been traveling all day and had happened upon the deer in its daytime lay-up. Spock immediately had an arrow nocked and drawn, but the deer was even quicker than he was and had now vanished as if it had never existed.

Christine and Sapel joined him as Spock was working the arrow point loose from the tree trunk. "Bad luck," she commiserated.

"Luck had nothing to do with it," he responded, examining the broken stone point. "It was a matter of reflex and speed. The buck simply reacted faster than I did." He stuffed the damaged arrow back into his quiver. "Shall we move on? I would like to find a place to make camp fairly soon."

The threesome continued up the easy incline toward the ridge above them, Spock helping his wife a bit as she puffed from her double load of her backpack and T'Jenn's carry sling. But she couldn't help grinning at him. "What was that word you used again?" she teased, knowing full well what it meant.

"Never mind," he answered, refusing to look at her. "I did not intend to use an expletive such as that."

"My, my. I'm shocked that words like that even exist in Vulkhansu!"

He gave her a sideways glance in reproval then turned his attention to their surroundings. They were threading their way through an unusual number of downed trees, all of them extremely old and decayed, with the new but fully mature growth pushing up between and through them, towering to a height of thirty feet or more. All of the fallen timber was lying aligned in the same direction as if it had been blown down by a strong wind, but clearly it was something that had occurred a very long time ago. The forest they were traversing showed all the signs of being hundreds of years old, completely recovered from whatever had befallen its predecessor.

Christine noticed it as well and remarked, "What do you suppose happened here?"

Spock shook his head. "A wind storm, perhaps, or slope failure, or--" They topped the ridge.

"Or a volcano!" Christine exclaimed.

The three people halted in amazement as they stared at the vista spreading before them. Stretching away below them was a huge, shallow, bowl-shaped depression, easily ten miles wide, thickly forested and surrounding a wide, crystal-blue lake that nestled at its heart. The forest was broken here and there by open meadowland, frosted with a covering of white, yellow and pink flowers, in places running right down to the waterline. From the hillside to their left, clear streams rushed down to the lake and, far to their right, they could see where the lake overflowed a natural dam to form the beginnings of the river they had been following for so long.

But it was what loomed in the distance, perhaps fifteen miles away, that drew their eyes inexorably upward. Rising majestically into the clear air, symmetrical and perfect, was a gigantic conical mountain, its summit crowned with snow, clouds drifting around its peak. They could see the green of forest crowding halfway up its slopes, then giving way to grayish-brown rock before being overtopped by its glacial cap. Behind it, more peaks marched away into the purple distance, but this one stood alone in its grandeur.

Sapel made an awe-struck sound, his eyes wide, as Christine breathed, "It's gorgeous! My God! It reminds me of Mt. Hood or Mt. Fuji!"

"Or Seleya," Spock agreed softly, also caught with the beauty of the landscape. "It's like Mt. Seleya on Vulcan. It's the only mountain on Vulcan high enough to have snow."

Somehow they managed to drag their enraptured gazes away from the peak and survey the valley that lay before them. Even from this distance they could see herds of elk grazing in the clearings and flocks of water fowl congregated on the lake. Here and there, the water's surface rippled and splashed as fish leapt for insects. Patches of color among the trees hinted at ripening fruit and dense stands of reeds grew along the water's edge.

Christine reached out and took her husband's hand, her voice hoarse with emotion. "Paradise, Spock," she whispered. "We've stumbled on Paradise."

* * *

Holding T'Jenn firmly, Christine tested the water temperature with her bare foot. The lake waters were cool, but not too much so after absorbing the heat of the summer sun. The afternoon had been sweltering and Jenny fretting from the heat and another emerging tooth, finally prompting Christine to decide that they both could use a swim. Dressed in her leather halter and loincloth, the woman waded slowly out until she was waist-deep and smiled at the startled little squeal her baby gave as the water touched the infant's bare bottom.

"Now ... isn't that nice?" Christine asked, bobbing T'Jenn up and down a bit to get her used to the temperature and feel. "It's too bad your dad and brother aren't here. I'll bet they're all hot and sweaty and dirty right now."

"Hot and dirty at least," came a deep baritone from the shore and Christine spun around to see her husband standing at the water's edge, an amused expression on his handsome face.

"I didn't hear you come back," Christine answered with a welcoming smile. "Did you do well?"

"Yes, we bagged a nice two-year buck," Spock answered. "The antlers won't be of much use, but the rest should furnish us with a good deal of material. And it should be fairly tender as well."

"Well, I'm sure we'll find a use for the antlers, too. Nearly everything is good for something," his wife answered and then asked, "Where's Sapel?"

"He shot a gopher mouse and brought it back for Scruff." Spock raised an eyebrow and commented, "Although I believe she is quite capable of hunting for herself."

"Well, she's welcome to those rats. They're no good for eating and they just chew up things and contaminate them." Christine grimaced. The burrowing rodents were one of the down sides to their almost idyllic new home. They were everywhere and got into everything.

Fortunately, Scruffy was an enthusiastic mouser and kept the camp fairly free of the little animals. The hunting cat had grown sleek and fully mature with the coming of high summer. About the dimensions of a medium-sized dog, her black-spotted golden coat blended in perfectly with the shadows and colors of the yellowing grasslands and underbrush of the woods. She had begun to disappear for two or three days at a time, but always returned purring and happy to see them.

Spock tilted his head a bit as he peered at his wife, his fists parked on his hips, and Christine mimicked his posture as best she could while holding the baby. He was absolutely magnificent, she decided. Tall and lean, clad in buckskin leggings and loin cloth, but shirtless from the waist up, his skin was a rich bronze with the greenish patina he acquired when deeply tanned. His raven-black hair had grown out once more halfway down his back and now moved about his powerful shoulders as the slight breeze toyed with it.

Christine found herself experiencing the familiar tightening between her legs and his twitch of one eyebrow showed that he had felt it, too. "Why don't you join us for a swim?" she invited him.

"I do need to begin work on that buck," Spock replied, but there was no real conviction in his voice.

"It'll keep for a little while," she retorted, her blue eyes half-hooded in temptation.

"Indeed," he replied in a whisper, his mouth pulling into a little smile. "A short swim would be rather refreshing." Without further commentary, he slipped out of his leggings and moccasins, leaving them lying on the grassy bank, laid his knife scabbard atop them, within easy reach, and strode into the water, still wearing his loincloth.

Reaching Christine, he drew her into a loose embrace and kissed her soundly. When they drew apart, he murmured, "Were I not afraid that Sapel would join us momentarily, I would do far more than simply kiss you."

"Spock!" she admonished, laughing. "Not in front of the baby! My goodness, have you no shame?"

"Not when it has been such a long time since I have possessed you, wife," he responded in a throaty rumble, pulling her close again. "If I am forced to wait much longer, then I may declare myself kholinarhu and take a vow of celibacy."

"Don't you dare," she whispered back, kissing him with determination.

They were interrupted by a whoop and a splash and Sapel was suddenly with them, naked and full of energy. "Papa! C'mon! Race ya!" The boy struck out immediately for the little island that rose up about two hundred yards off shore.

"It seems I am challenged," Spock sighed. He launched himself after his son, swimming strongly in order to catch the brown streak already far ahead of him.

Christine turned with T'Jenn to watch them. "Men are so silly!" she told her daughter conversationally. Jenny made a burbling comment in return, her blue eyes wide. "Well, we're here to relax, aren't we? Let's you and I have a little splishy-splash and then stretch out in the shade for a nap, shall we?"

T'Jenn seemed to find that an excellent idea and Christine took them into a little deeper water so that her baby girl could get throughly drenched from the safety of her mother's arms.

* * *

Spock was already in bed when Christine finally got T'Jenn down, checked on Sapel in his own tent to make sure he slept, and took care of her before-bed chores. As she started to let the tent flap down, Spock said quietly from the darkness, "Leave it up. It's too warm tonight to close it and besides I enjoy the view from here."

Christine turned and gazed out at the moonlight shimmering on the lake and smiled. "Yes, it's gorgeous tonight. The moons are a day or so from full and it's really bright out."

"That's not the view I was referring to," he answered in the low rumble that sent chills over her with its implications. "You, silhouetted against the moonlight, is what I was enjoying."

"Oh!" she responded with a startled little laugh, then her voice dropped into a throaty purr. "Then perhaps I should give you something to look at."

Stepping back so that the silvery moonlight illuminated her, Christine struck a seductive pose and held still for a long moment. She couldn't see Spock in the darkness, but she could feel his eyes on her nevertheless. Making sure that she had his undivided attention, she methodically began to unbraid her waist-length hair, all the while maintaining her gaze with him. Spock sat up cross-legged on the soft leather sleeping hide, his interest apparent, even in the gloom of the tent.

Reaching the top of her braid and running her fingers loosely through the mass to separate the strands, Christine bent over and shook the sun-streaked tresses freely then flung her head back so that her plait-crinkled hair fell in a long cascade about her. The moonlight reflected softly off the flowing surface as if it were wind-rippled water.

Pausing for effect, she then reached behind her and slowly worked at untying the knot that secured her halter top. She took a maddeningly long time about it, but Spock never took his eyes from her. After a while, the knot came loose and the halter dangled free, still hiding her breasts but tantalizingly so. She then brought her arms up and slipped them behind her neck, pulling open the knot there.

When it came free, she held the rawhide strands to keep it from falling and pressed the garment to her. Slowly, making certain he was watching, Christine let the halter drop away and fall to the ground, baring her ample bust. Already full, her breasts were swollen from nursing and jutted proudly from her chest. Playfully, she ran her hands over them, gently cupping and lifting them, teasing him with their ample size. Her large nipples protruded farther as she fondled them and she could feel them oozing droplets of milk, even though she had suckled T'Jenn before putting her to bed.

Coyly, Christine smiled and pushed her breasts together and up. "Like the view?" she asked.

"Very much so," Spock murmured in a low voice. "But is that all I get to see?"

"What else do you want to see?" she prompted him.

"Part of the landscape is still obscured," he responded. "I would like to view that as well."

"Oh, you would, hmm?" Smiling, she turned her back on him, presenting him with her shapely hips and proceeded to repeat the torturous process of untying the belt knot on her right side, loosening the rawhide strip that secured her loin cloth. When this finally came loose, Christine looked over her right shoulder at her husband and allowed the belt to fall and the back flap of the loincloth with it.

The smooth, creamy hemispheres of her buttocks presented themselves, although the cloth was still clenched tightly between her thighs. She leaned forward a little more, thrusting her butt a bit more in his direction and slowly moved her hips from side to side. Then, with deliberate motions, she straightened and turned to face him, opening her legs a little as she did so. The long leather strap of her loincloth slid free as she pulled it from between her legs in a blatantly provocative move. Finally it was gone and she dropped it to the ground behind her.

She now stood naked before her eagerly watching husband and once more paused to allow him full effect. "Is the view better now?" she murmured, running her palms slowly up and down her body.

"Not only is the view much improved," Spock answered, "but I feel compelled to explore it closer."

Christine made a delighted sound in her throat and glided toward him, ducking back into the tent until she was positioned before him. The reflected moonlight bathed Spock's body faintly and she could see now that he too was nude. He was also quite aroused, judging from the interesting shapes she could make out in the darkness.

He reached up to place his hands on her hips and pulled her closer to him, and she had to move her feet apart so that she stood astraddle his legs. It was exactly what he wanted, for it put her pubic area in front of his face and opened her to his searching mouth. As her rich feminine odor flooded his olfactory senses, he pressed his lips against her soft flesh and slipped his tongue into the cleft of her sex.

Christine staggered but he held her steady, driving her nearly mad with his oral explorations of her sensitive center. Kissing, licking, tasting, he ran his tongue over and around her swollen nub, finally sucking her into his mouth and working her gently but thoroughly in its hot, wet recesses. Finally, she could stand it no longer, for her trembling legs were about to collapse underneath her and she pushed him away. Nearly panting with arousal, she put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself and sank down astride his lap, her thighs hugging his hips and her knees bent in a kneeling position. Heat and hardness prodded into her as she settled against him, sliding her arms around his neck. His large, strong hands moved up her back, fiery against her skin, and he pulled her close, capturing her mouth in a long, fervent kiss.

She could taste herself on his mouth and tongue, further exciting her, and she pumped her hips against his pelvis, allowing the head of his erection to slide back and forth against her wetness. His engorged organ throbbed hungrily and seemed to be searching for the threshold of her vagina. Playfully, she would not allow him access. Not yet.

Spock picked up her teasing spirit and wriggled underneath her, responding to her game. He pulled back from their kiss, his face suffused with wide smile. Gazing into her eyes, he whispered in an almost enraptured tone, "You are so beautiful to me. More beautiful than anything I've ever known." He drew her close again, his tongue probing past her lips, dancing and dueling with her own. She sank against him, stilling the movements of her pelvis.

The wonderful hardness between her legs abruptly found its goal, locking into her. They both moaned against the other's mouth, the sound coming as if from one throat, then abruptly Spock rolled her onto her back and shoved his hips forward. He was buried within her in that single move and began to thrust even as she gasped and arched up against him. She hadn't expected it so soon and the entry took her by surprise, but it quickly turned into a breathless excitement and grew with his almost frantic thrusts.

With almost equal speed, he soared to a resounding climax and slammed deep within her, freezing, and she felt his come flood the depths of her center, hot as lava within her. Breathing hard, he paused to gather himself and then bent to kiss her soundly, still buried to the hilt. The firmness and fullness of his erection had not dwindled at all with his ejaculation, merely taken the urgency from his actions, and he now began to move softly inside her once more, slowly this time, tenderly, a gentle massaging that made her shudder and catch her breath.

For a long moment, they held each other's eyes, what they could see of each other in the dark tent, then he picked up the pace of his strokes. Her excitement was climbing rapidly back up when she felt his fingers position themselves on her face.

Yes!! she shouted mentally, whether to him or to herself she wasn't sure, but then he was truly within her, filling her body and soul in a way that only a mind meld could bring. Suddenly, it was full daylight and they were alone by the beautiful lake, stretched beneath the sunlight and moving clouds, joined together in every way.

He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, his hips stilling for only the moment it took to reposition themselves, then he resumed thrusting up into her, as strongly as ever. Christine reared back and lifted her arms to push her hair out of her face. This brought her breasts up and completely exposed, her pink areolae and nipples extended in full arousal. His hands were covering them at once, squeezing, massaging, kneading. She dropped back down, propped on her stiffened arms, and he raised his head to reach her, sucking one of her nipples into his mouth and tonguing her expertly.

Milk formed and dripped from her other breast and he quickly switched to that one, suckling her as if he were a babe. It was too much. The sensations and sight of his dark head bent to her sent her over the edge and her vagina gripped his plunging penis in a spasm of ecstasy, intensely aware of every centimeter of his heaving flesh, every vein, every ridge. She threw back her head and screamed.

Her orgasm triggered his and he plunged up beneath her, his hips lifting hers off the ground, as he exploded inside her once more. Lightning crackled between the clouds overhead and the ground shook beneath them, the wind picking up suddenly to whip the lake waters into white-capped frenzy. On the horizon, the volcano erupted in a plinian column of fire and smoke, its snowy peak disappearing in the conflagration.

Then they were back in the darkness of their bull-hide tent, Christine astride her husband's hips and the star-flecked night outside as calm and moonlit as ever. Spock had his eyes closed and was working to regulate his breathing, his chest still rising and falling from his exertions.

She slipped off him and snuggled against his side, pulling his face over to kiss him gently. "Wow," she said. "That was good."

"Indeed," he panted.

She giggled softly. "That erupting volcano was a little ... um ... Freudian, wasn't it, though? Why not a train going through a tunnel or fountain shooting up?"

"It seemed appropriate, considering our current location."

"I suppose so." She slipped an arm over his chest and settled down to sleep. "Next time, though, try to think of something a little less conventional. How about ... uh ... a nova exploding? Or a ship going into high warp? Or maybe photon torpedoes shooting out of a forward tube?"

"The forward tube? Not the rear?"

She slapped him lightly. "What a typically grotesque, male thing to say! Go to sleep! Rear tube, indeed!"

He chuckled despite himself and pulled his wife into his arms.

* * *

"Mama, look at this rock I found," Sapel said, holding out his hand.

Christine straightened from her position on her knees where she was digging tubers with a stout pointed stick. T'Jenn was sitting on a spread groundcloth nearby, playing with a small set of carved wooden blocks, stacking one or two and then giggling in delight when they toppled.

"What have you got, baby?" Christine asked her son, pushing her sweaty hair off her forehead.

Sapel handed her a hunk of glassy, black rock. "Watch it. It's sharp," he said.

"Obsidian," his mother answered, looking it over. "Where did you get this?"

"Over on that slope. There's lots of it."

She nodded. "Show Papa when he gets back. I think he'll want to know about this." She gave her son back the rock.

"Why's that, Mama?"

"Obsidian makes good arrow points and knife blades, although it's pretty brittle. But it's easy to work and is very sharp."

The boy nodded and placed the piece of obsidian back into his pouch. "Scruffy 'n me's going hunting," he said, catching up his bow.

"Be careful and don't go too far," Christine warned him.

"We're not. There's a rabbit warren up in the rocks. We're gonna see if we can bag a few of them."

"Okay. Be back before dark." Christine watched her son lope away with his golden hunting cat on his heels. He was growing up so fast, she mused. And that thought triggered a less pleasant one, of Spock's words to her the day they had left Lemuria. Her fond smile faded and an irritated frown replaced it.

Sapel had been very quiet and depressed for a month after his father's harsh words to him regarding the disastrous events in the Teeli village. Spock and Christine had exchange quite a few harsh words themselves, neither of them budging an inch in their positions. Christine maintained that he had been much too hard on their son, placing the full burden of guilt on his young shoulders for his actions in bringing about the massacre of the Teela'u. Spock would not back down, saying that Sapel must settle things between himself and the souls of those lost.

"You've gotten awfully religious all of a sudden," Christine had commented acerbically.

Spock had not dignified that with an answer and, indeed, hadn't spoken to her for two days.

"Fine," she'd responded to his silence. "Pout all you want. See if I give a shit."

"You have a bad habit of allowing your speech to become vulgar when you're angry, you know," he told her coldly.

"Fuck off," she snapped back, deliberately confrontational.

After that, they had traveled in icy silence, speaking only when they had to. But after a week or so, the rigors of their journey and the innate love they shared had thawed the glacial distance between them. By the time they had come upon their current campsite, things were back to normal, although all three of them harbored the dregs of their experience deep within.

Christine bent back to laboriously digging cattail tubers from the edge of the lake. The plants were useful in every one of their parts. The root tubers were edible and tasted a bit like turnips. The stems could be woven into baskets and mats, or if chopped and steeped in boiling water, made a healing wash for scratches and cuts. The tuft of fuzz on the tip of the plant was collected and used as absorbent packing for T'Jenn's diapers or the pads Christine used when menstruating.

That brought yet another troubling thought. By her calculations, she should have started her period three days ago. Her periods were still erratic because of T'Jenn's nursing and the hardship of traveling. She hadn't thought she was ovulating when she and Spock made love, but it was just possible that she had been. She felt a note of panic bloom deep inside at the chance that she might have conceived. She did not want another baby. Not only was she still burdened with a suckling infant, but the memory of T'Jenn's difficult birth was fresh in her mind.

Not again, she thought to herself. I can't go through that again. I'm 41 ... or as close as I can figure ... and I simply cannot do it again. I'm too old!

Another little voice in her head answered her. Nonsense. Women have babies into their 60's. You're still a young woman.

I FEEL 60 sometimes, she admonished herself. No. If it turns out I'm NOT pregnant, then I'll make sure I stay that way. Spock won't like it ... what I'm going to have to do ... but he'll just have to live with it. I will. Until pon farr. I'll HAVE to let him then, but that won't happen for ... what? Five years? And then ... well, I'll just cross that bridge when I come to it.

With resolution, Christine mentally squared her shoulders and dug up another reed tuber.

* * *

Sapel silently brought his bow up, drew and let the arrow fly. About six meters away, the rock hare leaped with a squeal, then fell, shuddering convulsively. Racing to his quarry, Sapel saw that the animal was mortally wounded but not dead. For a second, the boy hesitated, then on inspiration, pulled the hunk of obsidian from his pouch.

The edge of the black volcanic glass was razor sharp and Sapel knelt to quickly and cleanly slit the rabbit's throat. Pleased with his make-shift knife, Sapel decided to make himself a proper weapon. His parents both carried metal knives and regarded them as their most precious possessions. Papa was always talking about how Sapel was nearly grown now. Well, a man deserved to be armed and ready for any situation. He'd made himself the weapons he needed.

Scruffy was crouched beside her master, her nostrils wide and delicately sniffing the rich scent of the rabbit's blood. Suddenly she sat bolt upright and stared up the hillside, her ears stiff and intent. Ready for danger, Sapel followed her gaze and immediately saw what had riveted Scruffy's attention.

On the crest of the hill was another hunting cat, larger, more muscular, and sporting a ruff of black cheek whiskers. After a moment of silent staring, it uttered a gruff sound and Scruffy immediately answered with a chirp. Then she leapt forward, scrambling away up the hill to the other. Just before she reached him, the male disappeared over the crest. Without looking back at Sapel, she followed the other hunting cat and was gone.

* * *

Spock roused himself from sleep as Christine slipped into the furs beside him. It was still dark, near dawn if his inner time sense was reliable, and it usually was. The moons had all set but the incipient first hint of morning hung in the air, the pre-light that promised of the new made day. The woman didn't speak as she snuggled back into the bed, her back towards her husband. He could sense the stiffness in her body and turned so that he was spooned against her. But as he slipped his hand over her waist, she flinched and tightened still further.

"Don't," she said in a low voice.

"What's wrong?" he asked, unable to read through her shields. Christine had learned over their years together to wall herself off as efficiently as any Vulcan and now Spock regretted that he could only sense feelings of agitation from her.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep," she responded.

He raised himself on one elbow and peered down at her through the darkness, his superior night vision picking her features out well enough to see the tears tracking down her cheeks.

"Christine, tell me what's wrong," he insisted gently. "Are you ill?"

She gave a sigh that turned into a sob. "No. I just had to go to the latrine, that's all. I ... I started my period."

Spock made a little sound of acknowledgment deep in his throat. "I thought that you wished for this to happen," he said.

"Of course I did!"

"Then why are you crying?"

"Oh, you never understand anything!"

That struck him mute for a moment as he pondered the complexities of human women. "Then you did not wish to have your monthly function?"

"Just go to sleep," she said wearily as if to end the discussion.

Spock lay back down, snugged against her, and deliberately slipped his arm over her waist. Again she tensed, but he refused to release her this time.

"I don't want to have sex," she told him after a moment. "Not now... Not..." She almost said "ever" but changed it in mid-sentence to "...when I'm bleeding."

"But I can hold my wife, can I not?" his soft deep voice queried close to her ear. "I can find comfort in her closeness, can't I?" She sighed shakily and he felt her relax, although her distress came through her yielding blocks. He let her cry quietly for a while as the dawn slowly lightened the eastern sky from black to indigo to powder. When he felt the tension leaving her at last, he reached up to stroke her hair and asked, "Can you tell me now why you are so upset?"

She didn't answer for a moment then whispered, "No. Yes. I don't know."

"It must be one or the other," he answered with a tender amusement touching his voice.

She had to laugh just a little and sniffled. "My hormones are all torn up right now. I was afraid I was pregnant again and I don't ... I mean, I wanted not to be. But when I felt the cramping and got up to use the latrine, I saw that I'd started and..." Her voice caught then steadied. "I didn't realize how deep down the instinct to have a child could be. It hit me like I'd lost another one."

Her chin quivered again and the tears welled back up. Spock pulled her closer and held her in his warm embrace. "I knew that you were not pregnant, t'hyla. I would not have allowed you to conceive again when you had stated so emphatically--"

"Don't tell me that oversized schnozz of yours was sniffing my scent again," she retorted, smiling through her tears.

His eyebrows went up. "My nose is not oversized!" he protested.

She squirmed in his arms until she was on her back looking up at him. "It is so oversized! You could out-track a bloodhound with that thing!"

He peered back with offended dignity. "The Vulcan sense of smell is superior to humans and our noses tend to be larger than humans' because the atmosphere on Vulcan is thinner--"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," she smiled, cutting off his lecture, laughing a little. She wiped her tears off her cheeks. "My moods are irrational right now. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Ignore me. I'll be all right."

"Yes," Spock replied softly and bent to kiss her. "I know you will. And I know that you do not wish any more children, beloved. I will honor that wish."

She hesitated, suddenly afraid to speak. But she had to say it, to make it clear. "Even if ... even if that means we ... we must not make love ... ever again?"

He sighed and his large, warm hand caressed her cheek. "I have told you, Christine, that a Vulcan male can endure a state of celibacy until pon farr occurs. The story of Vulcans having sexual relations only every seven years has a basis in fact. Many Vulcans are celibate until nature forces them to take a mate. If that is your wish ... then I will abide by it."

She peered up at him and once more her eyes shown with wetness. She shook her head. "No, it is not my wish! I just don't see any other way. I can't go through another pregnancy, Spock, I just can't."

Seeing her distress return full force, he drew her close and held her. "Then there will be no others. I promise it. In any case, are there not more ways to engage in sex than vaginal penetration?"

That made her laugh again. "Oh, endless ways! I'm just afraid to tempt fate!"

"Do you fear that I cannot control myself should be engage in those ways?" he teased her gently.

"Oh, I know you can control yourself. But who's going to control me?" she grinned up into his beloved face.

A whimper from nearby sounded, then turned into a lusty cry as T'Jenn awoke to hunger and a wet diaper. Spock jerked his head slightly in his daughter's direction. "That will," he smiled wryly and sighed. "I will get the fire built up and start breakfast preparations while you tend to the last of our children."

Christine pulled him down into a fervent kiss, then let him go, moving to see to the needs of her baby.

* * *

The axe bit into the tree trunk with a solid "thunk", sending chips flying and shaking down a shower of pine needles onto the sweating, shirtless man below. Spock worked the flint blade loose, drew back and let fly another telling blow. This time the pine cracked, shifted and slowly toppled to the ground with a crash, sending up a cloud of debris.

Spock wiped his face with a leather-gloved hand and surveyed his work with satisfaction. After a full week of labor, he had felled enough trees to begin work on the new home he was building for them. Christine had pointed out its necessity and, in truth, he had already been mulling over the design and supplies he would have to make and gather.

All summer they had lived in their bull-hide tents, but the year was passing and autumn wasn't far away. Christine had been working diligently on preparations for the coming winter. As fruits and grains ripened, she and Sapel spent long hours gathering and transporting as much as they could carry in the baskets she had woven from the cattail reeds. They gathered the nuts falling from the many trees in the area, dug tubers and roots, picked sweet berries from the vines that covered the hills (enduring the pricks and scratches of the tiny thorns), and even risked raiding a bee tree to steal the precious honey that lay within.

Spock divided his time between hunting the red deer that inhabited the valley and in helping his wife with the food preparations. They cut and smoked thin strips of meat into jerky, processed the bones and antlers into tools, stretched and tanned the hides into leather and warm winter clothing, and pounded the rendered fat into a paste mixed with fruit and nuts to form a nutritious, long lasting food.

But none of this addressed their need for sturdy and weather-proof shelter that would keep out the cold and snow. A plan took shape in the back of Spock's mind and he set off one day with his flint-bladed axe and the material to make more blades as they dulled and grew useless. He would have given nearly anything for a good steel axe-head, but dismissed it immediately. It was impossible, therefore no use in wanting what could not be had.

The last tree felled, Spock now began trimming it, chopping the branching limbs from the main trunk until he had a long, straight log, roughly twenty feet in length. He estimated a mid-point and set to work chopping the tree trunk into two equal portions, each about ten feet long. He had the rhythm down now after preparing several dozen others, and made short work of his task. Afterwards, he paused once more and took a drink from his water bag, the cleaned and preserved stomach of a deer. The mid-day sun was fierce, but he relished its heat soaking into his Vulcan bones, reminding him subtly of the glorious heat of his homeland. For a split second, he paused as nostalgia washed over him for its deserts and hills, the wind whistling over the mesas, the salt devils whirling up into the clear ochre sky… Then he shook that off as unproductive and went back to his job.

He lashed leather tracings onto the log, slipped into its harness, and dragged the first log to the location he had chosen to build their cabin. After returning for the other, he caught his breath and looked over the building.

It wasn't a cabin, strictly speaking, but a type of hogan and the design was universal in its simplicity and strength. Octagonal in shape, made of logs that overlapped at each angle, the hogan resembled the dwellings of the Aes, a people of the Northern Deserts of Vulcan. The type of dwelling was also found among the peoples of the Southwest American deserts, used both as homes and as holy places of worship. The one Spock was building was about fifteen feet across inside, roomy but at the same time snug. The walls were now about four feet in height and would ultimately rise another foot before the roof was put on. This was the most difficult part, for the rough-hewn slats Spock would need to cut would overlay one another and fall gently back until the roof became a slightly conical structure, held in place by weaving them with braided leather ropes and lashed to the upright poles that formed the corner anchors. At the top a smoke hole would be left open, this capped by a little chimney made of a hollowed out tree stump. It would serve as a baffle for rain and would also accelerate the draw of the chimney as wind blew over the top, pulling air up the vent.

A door had been left open facing the lake and this would be fitted with a leather and lumber door that Spock would build once the hogan was finished. And he had built Christine something else into the hogan walls … a window. During warm weather this would be open for ventilation and light, but he also had an idea for a "pane". He had noticed that the intestines of the red deer, sliced open, stretched and allowed to dry, were remarkably translucent. Not really transparent, but enough to serve as a covering for the window. And for deep winter, he would make a sturdy wooden covering to keep the cold at bay.

As the sun moved lower toward the western horizon, Spock heard Christine and children approaching, back from their latest gathering foray, and he paused to watch them come. Scruffy was with them, returned from her week-long absence, padding along at Sapel's side, her golden coat shining in the late afternoon sun. She scampered down to the lake shore and crouched to lap water thirstily.

"Hello, honey," Christine greeted her husband and kissed him lightly on the lips. "I thought you'd like to take a break and have a snack." She shifted T'Jenn more securely onto her hip and fished in her carry pouch, producing a fresh fruit like a peach and a folded tortilla, left over from that morning's breakfast.

Spock took them gratefully and they sat down in the shade beneath a large spreading tree they had dubbed an oak because of its acorn-like nuts. Christine put T'Jenn, who was now toddling, down to stand in the short grass. The baby swayed for a few seconds, then got her balance and stood watching her brother and his pet.

"Mama!" Sapel called. "Can I go swimming?"

"I suppose. Not for too long, though."

The boy whooped and immediately stripped naked, racing into the water with a huge splash and paddling out about fifty feet. Scruffy stared at him for a few moments, then pointedly turned her back and strolled to where her other "family" sat. The baby gurgled happily and made a grab for her, but the hunting cat deftly side-stepped the little hands and moved instead to curl up next to Christine, wrapping her tail about her. T'Jenn attempted to follow, lost her balance and sat down hard on her bottom, her expression flicking from surprise to outrage and then to happiness once more as she found an acorn in the grass before her and began to play with that.

Christine laughed and settled back contentedly. "The hut's going well," she commented, nodding toward the half-finished building.

Spock agreed, taking a bite from the peach and chewing the juicy fruit. "I should be ready to begin splitting the roof slats in a few days. I hope to have it ready for occupancy before the next new moons."

"How long until cold weather, do you suppose?"

"I do not know. About a month, I would estimate. The fruits and other plants are ripe, but the deciduous leaves have not yet begun to show signs of turning. And there is no predicting the weather," he shrugged. "We could experience a cold front within a couple of weeks, or the cold weather could hold off for two to three months."

"Well, I hope it holds off. The longer we have to prepare, the better. I don't know why, but something tells me the winter might be a long one."

Spock cast an eye her way and lifted one brow. "Ah, your grandmother's bones are aching again, then?"

She hit him on the arm. "Stop making fun of my Ancestor," she stated pointedly. "What do your Ancestors tell you?"

"That dead women's bones do not ache," he answered back with a twinkle in his deep brown eyes. "That is illogical. It is more logical to observe the plants and animals for signs of winter's coming."

"Yeah, Granny Chapel used to say basically the same thing, and anyway it's not her bones that ache. It's mine!" Christine lifted her arms above her head and stretched elaborately. "My back especially. Lord, but I hate picking up nuts."

"Make Sapel do it then," her husband suggested, sucking the peach nectar off his fingers.

"I do, but many hands made short work, as Granny used to say. Anyway, he helps me a lot. He really does. You should see him shinny up an apple tree!"

"Shinny?" Spock cocked the eyebrow her way once again.

"Never mind. Old Earth word." She reached down to absently stroke the purring cat by her side. For a time they were silent, watching their son splashing happily in the lake and their little daughter get to her feet and practice walking more than a few steps. "It's so nice here," Christine mused. "We could really make a home here if it weren't..." She stopped. "Spock, you do realize what we're sitting on top of, don't you?"

"Yes. This valley is a caldera," he answered quietly. "However, I have explored it during my hunting trips and I do not believe we are in any danger of an imminent eruption."

"Still makes me nervous, though."

"I have seen no signs of volcanic activity other than the hot springs and geysers at the other end of the valley," he assured her. "I would not be building us a cabin if I thought there was any danger at all in this location."

She shrugged sheepishly. "Yes. Sorry. But I just used to study geology a bit in college and there were always those instances of volcanoes that went off when people least expected it."

"Usually preceded by numerous warning signs that people chose to ignore," Spock answered, gazing at her directly. "Do not forget that Vulcan has active volcanoes as well, and that I grew up on the flanks of its biggest one, Mt. Seleya. I am well versed in the precursors of eruption."

Christine nodded. "I suppose you're right." She took a deep breath and turned a smile on him. "Of course, you're right. There hasn't been any activity in this valley for a very long time. That's obvious by how heavily wooded it is and by the variety of plants and animals. And there probably won't be any for long after we leave this place. Okay, I'll stop worrying. I promise."

"Indeed. If you need to worry about anything, worry that I will become too accustomed to lying in the shade and never finish the work on the cabin!" With that, Spock got to his feet and drew on his gloves. "Back to work!"

"Can I help?" she offered.

"You, on the other hand, deserve to rest in the shade," he answered. "You have been working extremely hard of late. Take advantage of the afternoon!"

She seemed about to protest, but then smiled and leaned back on her hands. "All right! Don't say I didn't offer to lend you a hand."

"Mama!" Sapel yelled from his waist-deep position in the lake. "Why don't you come swimmin', too? It's great!"

"I think I will," she replied and rose to her feet, snatching up T'Jenn and taking them both into the water.

* * *

The first cold snap hit about four weeks later, accompanied by several days of drenching rains. Then warm weather returned with flawless blue skies and summer-like temperatures. Mid-afternoons were quite hot, but sundown brought markedly cooler breezes and made the evening fire a welcome respite. Autumn had definitely arrived and, as it did, long lines of migrating birds began to stream overhead, flying south, and many of the herd animals followed suit, migrating to the plains several hundreds miles away.

This year, however, there was plenty of game nearby that would winter over in the steam-warmed caldera. At the far end of the valley, early mornings saw vast white plumes billowing up into the cold morning air from the hot springs and geysers, painted with shades of mauve and purple dawn light. Herds of red deer and the more massive elk stayed in the area overnight, moving out to graze as the day warmed and filtering through the trees whose palette had changed almost overnight from various verdant hues to a multi-colored array of golds, reds and browns. There was smaller game as well abounding in the caldera valley, rabbits and rock coneys, thick-plumed ground birds with limited flight capacity, tree dwelling branch climbers and flying squirrels, small horse-like browsers about the size of dogs, and something like an otter that lived in the waters of the lake and fed off the numerous fish.

Throughout the valley, too, the last fruits and nuts, grains and gourds, had reached their final blush of ripeness and Christine was gathering and storing as quickly as she and Sapel could work, vying with the animals who were working to store up body fat for winter. Spock would have helped them in the harvest, but he was devoting every daylight hour to putting the finishing touches on the hogan, working against a ticking clock to have it weather-proofed and winter-ready before the next cold front arrived, which could be any day now. All of them were exhausted by their frantic pace, but Christine especially seemed stretched near her limit.

Today, as every day, she was up at dawn, had them a hot breakfast of boiled grain ready, and ate as she breast-fed T'Jenn, now close to a Terran year old. She was planning to wean the child over the winter, but now she was contented to put that off until she had the harvest out of the way. Jenny was eating soft foods now, even feeding herself finger foods, but still nursing several times a day.

Once the child had finished, Christine closed her tunic, got their gathering baskets together, slipped T'Jenn onto her back in her carry sling, and she and her son started off. Spock was sipping the last of his hot tea and called after her, "Watch the skies, especially this afternoon. I think it may rain."

"You just get the finishing touches on the house," Christine answered over her shoulder. "Sapel and I will take care of the rest."

She said it playfully, but Spock detected a faint undercurrent to her voice that made him cast a curious glance at her retreating back. She had remained edgy ever since the pregnancy scare and now the strain of getting as much food stored as she could had only added to that tenseness. Even though she treated him in a pleasant manner, solicitous of his needs and attentive if he required it, there was nevertheless a little frown line between her brows that refused to go away and the smile on her lips never quite reached her eyes anymore.

Spock finished his tea and picked up his tools, beginning his day's work. He had the hogan nearly finished now and was applying a thick mud and straw caulking to the chinks between the logs. After that, he had to fit on an overlying layer of waterproof reed thatching to the roof. They had been living in the new cabin ever since the bad weather, enduring the drafts and rain that had penetrated the unfinished walls, but they needed it snug and warm for winter. Christine had laid down a flooring of rushes to insulate against the cold as they had huddled around the central hearth, but the wind still blew through the chinks and robbed the cabin of its heat.

Mixing powdered clay, water and chopped straw, Spock worked the mixture into a thick paste, then slathered the mud between the logs, smoothing and packing with his fingers until it was solid, then moving on to the next section. It was monotonous work and his thoughts turned back to Christine. She hadn't been the same since the disastrous events in Lemuria. The experience had traumatized her deeply, yet she had attempted to submerge it all and go about her normal activities, but the tension had seeped through nonetheless. The issue of Sapel's punishment was unresolved between them and she tended to keep the boy with her, essentially shutting out Spock's influence. He didn't know if she was simply afraid of losing him again or if this was an attempt on her part to claim her son's favor. Perhaps it was not deliberate, but it seemed to be working. There was nothing overt, but Sapel obviously preferred his mother's company to his father's.

Christine's behavior toward Spock had also changed subtly. Following the time when she thought she might have conceived, she had distanced herself from him. They had not made love since then. Spock found that he missed it, despite his declaration to her about Vulcan celibacy. He had become accustomed to the eager willingness she always showed when he initiated sexual relations. In fact, just thinking about it caused a familiar tightening in his groin and his penis gave a little twitch. Resolutely, he ignored it, concentrating on slapping more mud between logs. When had he become so physical? he wondered. In the beginning it was not like that. Not like that at all.

It was seven and a half years since they'd been stranded here and for the first few months he and Christine had successfully fought their growing attraction to one another. Of course, in those days, both nurtured the faint hope that they would be found and rescued, a dream long since abandoned. But they had striven to maintain the professional relationship they'd had on board the Enterprise, of First Officer and Head Nurse, but their living conditions and circumstances, their utter dependence upon one another to survive, had begun to change all that. He had found her to be nothing like the image he had formed in his mind. Instead, he found her to be intelligent and brave, resourceful and strong, pragmatic and yet respectful of his beliefs. And he had found her beautiful, her lush curves revealed as he'd never seen them, her deep blue eyes illuminated with sunlight, her blonde hair blowing in the breezes of their new home. Almost unbidden, his maleness began to respond to her utter femininity and he remembered vividly the day when their relationship had changed forever.

They had stood together on a hilltop, watching as a thunderstorm loomed in the distance. Thunder and a crash of lightning sent her leaping reflexively into his arms and he found that he did not want to let her go. It felt right that she be there, as natural as the rain beginning to fall around them, and when he had kissed her and her warm body melted into his embrace, the barrier they had built between themselves washed away with the first raindrops of the downpour to come.

They raced back to their cave home in the rain, becoming soaked as they ran, and once there had stripped off their wet clothes and moved again, almost tentatively for a moment, into each other's arms. It was all that was needed to fully ignite the fire between them. They had fallen together, flesh to burning flesh, and all the walls between them were irrevocably gone. They had made love while the storm raged outside, the thunder and lightning punctuating their own crescendos of passion and, when it was over, they were bonded together in a union of kindred souls.

She had seldom refused him since, her own uninhibited libido fueling the buried coals of Vulcan desire. She had taken him to heights of sexual expression he would never have known otherwise, playful and frenzied, tender and violent. Twice she had endured the fury and madness of pon farr, something few humans had experienced, and had still come to him with open arms and eagerness.

He had come to expect it, he realized, to revel in her sensuality and smoldering eroticism. Now it was essentially gone and he found that it left a void in his life that nagged at him subconsciously. He often found himself on the edge of sexual arousal whenever he was in her presence, watching hungrily as she opened her clothing and exposed her breasts to feed their child. He often found himself longing to bury his face there against her bosom and inhale her warm womanly scent, to kiss and nuzzle her firm breasts and drag his tongue over the taut protruding nipples, to take them in his mouth and suck them hard and--

Angrily, Spock yanked his thoughts away from his wife and back to his work, jabbing more mud into a crack. Control! he ordered himself sternly. Vulcans did not react in this manner. He was behaving as if he were an adolescent in the first Awakening and had not yet learned to control his body or his emotions. He was a mature man now, fully able to master his own body and mind. Christine had good cause to cease sexual relations with him. The risk of another pregnancy was too great and he agreed with her about that. There would be no more mental debate about it! The subject was closed!

Setting his mind to his task, Spock moved down the log wall and slammed another wad of caulking into the chinks still unfilled.

* * *

The winter winds howled with a ferocity that made the hogan quiver and creak, but its compact shape allowed the storm to pass over and around it. Inside, it was warm and dark, the embers of the central hearth fire glowing redly, the sounds beneath the moan of the wind across the chimney hole those of safety and contentment. The children were both asleep on the other side of the cabin. Scruffy was curled next to the hearth, lazily washing one paw, the faint rasp of her tongue on her fur scarcely audible. Occasionally a coal in the hearth would snap softly, reminding Spock drowsily that he would have to add a bit more tinder if the banked fire seemed to be ebbing too low before morning. The smoke hole was efficient in drawing smoke out of the cabin, but it also drew out heat and the fire had to be tended carefully in order to keep the hogan comfortably warm.

Nearly back to sleep, Spock became aware of a faint movement beside him. Christine lay with her back to him, drawn in upon herself. She was trembling faintly and occasionally making a small moan deep in her throat, obviously caught in the throes of a disturbing dream.

Turning over onto his side, Spock spooned himself against her, draping an arm across her waist and snuggling her against him. She quieted at his touch but did not wake and he sank into slumber after a moment.

* * *

The field of grass stretched out before him, rising up to the small hillock on which Christine stood. She was illuminated by the sunshine, her hair almost aglow as she waited for him, her body surrounded by an aura of light. She was clad in a long robe of hearts-blood green, apparently made of thin silk, because he could see her body outlined through the back-lit material.

Laughing, she opened the robe and let it fall away from her, revealing her beautiful naked body beneath. Her creamy skin was flawless, her full breasts epitomizing her womanhood, her shapely hips and long legs marked by the triangle of dark hair at the base of her abdomen. Beneath, he knew the pleasures and wonders that awaited, and in response he felt a surge of sexual electricity pulse through him. Walking toward her, he began stripping off his tunic as he went, eager for the encounter to come.

He had almost reached her when, again with a laugh, she turned and disappeared over the hilltop. Spock hurried after her, delighted in their game, but when he reached the top of the hill, he saw that she was already some distance away, farther than he would have guessed she could have gone. Undaunted, he trotted easily down the hill toward her, certain he would catch her this time.

Christine paused and ran her hands over her body, lifting her breasts up to him, teasingly. Her smoky blue eyes half-lidded, she pressed her breasts together in offering, this time bending her head and trailing the tip of her tongue along the top of one. The sight was unbelievably erotic and his erection pulsed harder, pressing against the leather of his loincloth. The bulge of his arousal was noticeable now and she stared hungrily at it before she was away once more, running through the waving grasses toward the lake.

His good humor fading a bit, Spock loped after her and, when he came to the spot she had been, he saw that she was again far head of him, now beside the lapping blue waters of the lake. Panting, he stopped to catch his breath and wonder how she could have outdistanced him. She had nearly been within reach.

She had paused once more and this time her sexual display was more blatant, openly caressing herself, massaging her breasts and bringing her nipples up to full height. Still hugging herself with the other arm, she slid the other hand down her belly and slipped her fingers between her legs, into the secret recesses of her sex. His heart pounding in his side, he watched as she rubbed and teased herself, throwing her head back in ecstasy, moaning aloud.

Spock gulped, still breathing heavily, both from exertion and from his own arousal. He was fully erect now, the loincloth chafing unpleasantly against the swollen head of his penis. He loosened the garment a bit to ease the friction, then stalked purposefully toward his wife. This had gone on long enough. He disliked being led on this way and determined that he would end this game at once. It had been much too long since he had felt her sheathed around him, hot and wet and tight. He needed her without delay, stretched beneath him on the carpet of grass, as he drove his aching loins to fruition between her welcoming legs.

Coyly, Christine watched him coming, then backed into the water until it was licking at her hips. There she paused again, still pleasuring herself with her fingers as Spock stopped at the water's edge. Quickly, he undressed, ready to follow her in, but as soon as his toes touched the lapping wavelets, he yanked his foot back in shock. The water burned him like fire! Or was it ice? He couldn't tell, only that he couldn't bear to step into it.

Helplessly, he stood on the shore and watched as Christine lifted double hands full and drenched herself with the water, allowing it to trickle off the rosy points of her breasts. Steam began to rise around her. "What's the matter, Spock?" she asked. "Why don't you join me?"

He tried again to put his foot into the lake, with the same results. It felt almost blistered, although his skin showed no evidence of burns.

"Oh, too bad," Christine said mockingly. "I guess you just don't want to fuck me bad enough." She massaged her breasts once again, baiting him, then said, "Oh, but I need it so bad! I need to feel that long, hard cock sliding in and out of me. Don't you want that, Spock? Don't you want to fuck me 'til I scream?"

He stood in frustration on the bank, unable to move, his erection throbbing. Reaching down, he took hold of himself, squeezing for control. Christine eyed him and sighed. "All right then. I suppose I'll just have to find someone else."

The waters behind her stirred and a man arose from their depths. The steam obscured his face and his form, all except the fact that he had a hard and impressive erection. Moving behind Christine, he bent her forward and spread her legs, then positioned himself between them and thrust his hips forward, burying himself inside her. She gave a squeal of pleasure and panted, "Oh, that's so good! Oh, yes! Fuck me!"

In powerless rage, Spock could only stand and watch, his fist clenched around his swollen penis, beginning to stroke it unconsciously. "Christine!" he demanded. "Why are you doing this to me?!"

"You know why, Spock," she answered, her voice and face filled with pity. "I need you. I want you! But you're full of babies and I don't want anymore. He can't get me pregnant like you can. I made him up." Seeing his clumsy masturbation, she snapped angrily, "Don't you think I need sex as much as you do? This is driving me crazy! But I can't do it with you anymore, so how else am I gonna stand it?"

"Christine, please!" the Vulcan begged, his hand working harder at himself. "There are other ways. Please don't do this."

But she had turned away, lost in rapture as the mysterious man pounded into her. A tear trickled down her cheek as they sank together beneath the waters of the lake, still locked in frenzied intercourse, leaving Spock standing alone on the shore of the steaming caldera lake, unable to bring himself to a satisfactory climax.

* * *

Startled awake, Spock was disoriented for a second before realizing that he lay in his bed furs with Christine still hugged against him, asleep. He had an enormous erection and an urgent need to slip his hardness between his wife's thighs, find her welcoming depths, and empty himself into her clutching warmth. But it was impossible. She had made it very clear that she no longer wanted sex with him. And he had promised her that he would not ask it of her.

Frustrated and agitated, Spock slipped from beneath the furs and moved to add more wood to the banked fire, then spent the remainder of the night on his knees in meditation before it, concentrating on the flame within the hearth and bringing under control the flame within his soul.

* * *

Christine sighed in bliss as Spock lowered himself onto her and into her welcoming arms. The weight of his body, supported on elbows and knees, was comforting rather than oppressive, and she slipped her arms around his neck and let her legs fall wider apart as he nestled his hips into place between them. It felt so good to have him back where he belonged and she spread herself eagerly to receive him. The thick probing rod of his erection unerringly found her opening and pushed smoothly past the mouth and into her depths, filling her in a way only he could. It had been so long and she was so tight...

Her head falling back in ecstasy, Christine gasped in response to his entry, to the sensation of his wonderful hardness sliding home to its full length within her, to the electricity that shot through her as he nudged against her cervix, so deep was he, to the shivers that pulsated as he moved within the clutching channel of her sex. Her gasp was stopped short as his mouth came down on hers, his tongue seeking and gaining the sanctuary between her lips, teasing her own tongue and the palate of her mouth. Moaning, she hugged him harder and returned the kiss in full measure.

When at last he raised his head, breaking the contact between them, she gazed up into his eyes, so close, a deep chocolate brown shaded by intensely black lashes. His soul was there within them, speaking to her as his words never could. His shuddering breath caressed her face from between parted lips, his brows bunched in concentration, and his long ebon hair curtained them both as he leaned over her. She reached one hand up and pushed the raven strands behind one pointed ear, allowing her fingers to linger on its curve, to caress its tip and glide down to fondle the lobe. Spock closed his eyes and drew a deep breath in response, his driving hips gaining even more power.

Then his dark gaze was on her eyes once more and his lips met hers briefly in a light, gentle kiss. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you so much."

"Oh, Spock, I love you too!" she answered fervently. The sensations surging within her began to grow exponentially with every thrust of his pelvis. He was as hard as a rock within her and his laboring breath told her that he was near to climax. There was sweat rolling off his body onto hers, trickling down her ribs like phantom fingers, and she arched her back up underneath him, causing him to drive even deeper within her. Lodged within her, she felt him harden and lengthen still more, the head of his erection pounding insistently against her cervix, seeking entry.

No, something told her. This was wrong. He was trying to break through the barrier to her womb, to lock the head of his penis there, to discharge his ejaculate as he would in pon farr. It had never happened except during Mating, when the physiology of the Vulcan male changed to insure pregnancy in his mate, enlarging so that he could deposit his seed directly into her uterus. No sperm could afford to be lost and, in Vulcan females, the texture of the cervix changed during Mating to allow the male to enter and lock into her until conception occurred and pon farr ended. Only then would he soften enough to pull out and dismount from her.

It was also excruciatingly painful and the female was always shielded against the agony. Christine was fully awake, however, and Spock had made no move to meld with her and protect her from his actions.

Christine stiffened and pushed against Spock's shoulders. "Stop," she said. "You're hurting me."

But his pounding thrusts did not slacken as he grasped her in steel-hard hands, his eyes holding madness now, almost unseeing as plak tow gripped him. Christine watched in horror as his eyes rolled up white and then orgasm was upon him. With a powerful thrust, he slammed into her a final time and the swollen head of his phallus punched past her cervix and into her womb, ripping her open, exploding with a torrent of white hot liquid that blazed in her like lava.

She screamed and clawed at the bunched muscles of his bare back, bringing welts of green blood to flow with his sweat over her, dripping down in verdant flows. Still he held her, pumping his fire into her, unseeing, unhearing, knowing only the animal-like frenzy to mate. At long last, his ejaculation slowed and stopped, but still he did not withdraw from her. Instead, he hunched over her in the same position, tied to her by his enormously swollen organ, still and waiting. Then he began to move again as the next wave of rut overtook him and the torment began all over again.

* * *

Christine came awake with a start, shaking uncontrollably and clutching at the bed furs for dear life. Breathing heavily, it took her a minute to slow her pounding heart and realize that it was just a dream. But the fear and memory of the pain remained with her yet, the images of the dream vivid in her mind.

She became aware that Spock was sitting beside the fire in the darkened hut, watching her. His gaze was hard beneath his lowered brows and the exaggerated relief of the flickering firelight on his angular face made him look very alien, very dangerous and strange.

"Do you actually think me capable of that?" he whispered harshly, keeping his voice low so as not to wake the children.

"What?" she asked groggily.

"That I would rape you like that?"

"What are you talking about?" she whispered back.

"Your dream. Have I ever been so brutal that you would believe that of me?"

Christine sat up, frowning at him as she struggled to wake fully. "How did you know what I was dreaming?"

His face took on an almost mocking aspect. "If I don't shield against them, I know your dreams. Your mind practically shouts when you're dreaming." He peered at her again with an angry, hurt expression. "I am not an animal, Christine. Even in pon farr. And I can control myself. I am fully aware that you do not wish sexual relations with me. I know that you do not want any more children. Your subconscious hostility toward that aspect of our relationship in unwarranted."

Christine closed her eyes and shook her head. "I don't believe we're having this conversation. It was just a dream, Spock. It doesn't mean anything."

He rose and began to gather his things. "The subconscious is often a window into the deeper thoughts of a person's mind. I believe we could use a little time apart. I'm going hunting."

"What? Where?"

"To Seleya." It was the name they had given the dormant volcano that loomed over the far end of the valley. "The elk herds have moved up the slopes into the forests." He slipped his parka on over his head and pulled his heavy fur mukluks on over his high moccasins. "I shouldn't be gone more than a week."

Christine had gotten up now and had one of the sleeping furs wrapped around her for warmth. "It's the middle of the night."

"It is dawn." He packed a pouch with dried meat and fruits, put the strap over his shoulder, and caught up his bow and quiver. "There is plenty of firewood cut. You shouldn't need any more until after I return."

"Spock, you don't have to do this, you know."

He paused at the door and turned back to look at her, his eyes depthless and unfathomable. "I need to be alone, Christine. This is very hard on me. Harder than I anticipated. I must center myself before we can go on. I'll be back within the week."

With that, he ducked through the low doorway and was gone, shutting it after him to keep out the cold. Sighing heavily, feeling both angry and depressed, Christine turned back to put water on to boil for tea and breakfast cereal. When he got like this, there was nothing to do but let him go off and do his meditation thing. He was impossible to live with, otherwise. Even after all the years of dwelling in relative freedom from emotional constraints here on this planet, Spock was still at heart a hide-bound Vulcan male.

What he always failed to realize was that there was a hide-bound human male lurking in there, too. One that needed reassurance that he hadn't lost her just because he wasn't humping her at the drop of a hat. Unwittingly, her mind flashed to the many instances when they had made love and in the many places and circumstances ... the snug cave of their valley home during a thunderstorm, the real bed onboard the now destroyed Romulan ship, the steaming hot pool at Sea Home, in meadows and underneath waterfalls ... gentle and wild, nasty and unrestrained, in every way possible.

Dispirited, she poked the embers hard with a stick to stir them to flame, her jaw tight, and poured grain into the now boiling water to allow it to cook. With the other stone bowl, she used the stick to nudge it off the fire and sprinkled aromatic leaves into it, allowing it to steep into tea. Stirring the boiling grain, she carefully moved it farther away from the fire and covered it with a large flake of stone that served as a lid. It took a while for it to absorb the water and soften, but Christine's thoughts were only halfway on what she was doing.

Goddamn it, it wasn't any easier on her to have to cut him off! Couldn't he see that? She loved having sex with him and, no matter what he said, it had just been a dream! It was nothing more than the anxiety and unreleased tension of being unable to continue an integral part of their marital relationship. She knew he was frustrated. She was, too! More than anything, she wanted to say the heck with it and jump him and screw his brains out! But she simply could not risk it. Her period had been messed up ever since T'Jenn's birth. Sometimes she would go weeks without one, then she'd bleed heavily for ten days. Then she wouldn't have another one for two or three months. Then she'd spot for a couple of days three weeks later. She didn't have a clue when she was fertile anymore and when she wasn't.

She desperately needed to see a good gynecologist but had only her own medical training to attempt a diagnosis. Perhaps she was starting into menopause. Or--and she shuddered at the thought--perhaps it was something more sinister. The list of "female problems" that that might be made her blood run cold, with cancer right up there in the number one position. Pregnancy might be the least of her worries. God, uterine or cervical cancer ... no hope for treatment on this forsaken rock of a planet. In civilization, it was a simple matter to prevent or cure any cancers that formed, but here...

Fuck it! She threw the stick into the flames and huddled in on herself, hugging the fur around her, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks. Spock, oh, Spock, she was so afraid!

Underneath her, the floor seemed to tremble for a second, making her equilibrium spin in a flash of dizziness. Then she noticed that she couldn't seem to stop swaying ... and that the cabin was creaking ominously.

* * *

Spock halted as the ground shuddered beneath his feet, then seemed to undulate in a wild little dance. It only lasted a few seconds and he waited for a larger shock, but none came. He was familiar with quakes from his years at Starfleet Academy in San Francisco, and now judged this temblor to be no more than a 2 or 3 on the Richter scale. This was a volcanic region and small earthquakes were likely very common here. He watched the ripples on the lake subside and return to normal.

At the end of the valley, the geysers were all erupting, plumes of white steam billowing into the clear morning air in a spectacular array, the dawn light tinging them with rainbow hues. For a moment, Spock watched them then continued on his way. He had briefly considered returning to the hogan, but then decided not to. No harm had been done by the little quake and he had faith that Christine could handle things there. He sensed no alarm from her through their bondlink, although he was aware of her emotional turmoil. That had been an ongoing thing, however, and seemed no worse than usual.

The walk through the outstanding scenery of the valley lifted his spirits and began to bring peace into his heart. Terra Two was nothing at all like Vulcan, but he'd lived on Earth for enough years to be able to appreciate the greens and blues of the mountains and forests there. This area reminded him of the Cascades region of northwestern North America. As he had explored, he'd seen that there were a number of mountains that were distinctly volcanic in appearance, some quite high and well-defined, capped with snows and even what appeared to be small glaciers. Others were low and eroded, covered with thick stands of forest, punctuated by blue mountain lakes, many fed by glaciers and snow melt, waterfalls shimmering as overflow sent streams down to lower lakes and ponds.

It was spectacularly beautiful and life was abundant here. The forests and glens abounded with game and there was so many types of trees and shrubs that bore edible fruit, he and Christine had named their valley Eden. The serpent in the garden, of course, was the fact that underneath their paradise lay the source of the volcanoes, hot springs and geysers in the area. This was a vast caldera that had erupted sometime in the past and the continued activity gave evidence that the region was not dead by any means, but only dormant. There did not appear to have been a major eruption here in a very long time, but geologic time worked on a different scale from the short lifespans of humans.

Still, Spock had not seen any signs that the area was reawakening and he felt reasonably safe settling his family in this valley. It might be decades ... centuries, even ... before anything happened to force them to flee. And the odds were overwhelmingly good that long before that time the activity would increase in intensity, giving them ample warning. He was well-versed in the science of vulcanism. His home planet was aptly named in human tongues -- although the proper Vulkhansu appellation roughly translated as "home" -- for it was actively volcanic. Spock had grown up in the shadow of the dormant peak of Seleya and with an instinctual knowledge of natives of the region.

By mid-day, he had reached the slopes of the local Mt. Seleya, the mountain that stood at the head of the valley, and stopped to rest and have a bite to eat. He was still near the shores of the lake but above the geyser region. He could still catch a whiff now and then of sulphur in the air, giving the area an odor like rotten eggs, but for the most part the breeze coming off the mountain blew the fumes away from him and the scent of evergreens was dominant.

It was cold here and there was a bit of snow in shaded spots. It was still early in the winter and there had only been a flurry or two at this point. The heavier snows would come in a month or more. While his fur parka and mukluks kept him adequately warm, he hadn't needed snowshoes or any other winter gear.

Sitting on a fallen log, he took out a wafer of journey bread, rendered fat and fruit pounded together into a nutritious and high energy cake, and munched on it as he enjoyed the quiet surroundings. Many birds had left the area for warmer climes, but there were still a lot that stayed over in the geyser-warmed region. They hopped about the trees and twittered among themselves as they looked for dried berries and sluggish insects hidden in the bark. A flying squirrel emerged from its hole high up in the trunk of a pine and skittered around in a last minute foraging expedition. It would be hibernating soon, but was still compelled to gather any pine nuts it might have missed, packing on the fat to see it through the winter.

Spock enjoyed watching the little animals go about their business, feeling a serenity that he'd been missing for quite a while. It was like paradise here, compared to other places on this planet they'd lived. The wind picked up a little and he became aware of a low, hollow sound as it did so. Puzzled, he listened and tried to identify it. It wasn't animal in origin and it almost sounded musical to his ear. It rose and fell as the breeze did, sometimes fading totally away and at others rising in pitch.

Stowing his journey cake back into his pack, he caught up his bow and stood, curious to find the source. His search led him down to a large stand of thick reeds at the water's edge, where a little stream flowed into the lake. There he found a place where several of the bamboo-like stems had broken and were lying over atop their neighbors. As the wind blew through them, they produced a thin wail.

Inspiration was immediate and Spock suddenly knew one of the things that had been missing from his life since they had been stranded on this planet. He had always loved music and had missed his ka'athyra, his Vulcan lyre that had been a part of his life since childhood. He had often thought of making one, but had never had the time or materials to do it properly. Now he handled the thick hollow reed and envisioned a simple flute. Scotty had possessed a Celtic flute much like this but had not considered himself good enough on it to play for others. He was more accomplished on his pipes, which he brought out on ceremonial occasions.

Drawing his knife, Spock cut the stem and several others, stowing them in his pack. The long winter would prove the perfect time to experiment with making a musical instrument.

* * *

"Ouch!" Christine yanked her finger back reflexively away from the bone needle and stuck it in her mouth to suck on the hurt. After a few seconds, she turned and snapped at her son, "Sapel, I've asked you to be quiet! You're making me a nervous wreck!"

The boy looked up from where he was rough-housing with Scruffy. "I'm sorry, Mama."

"Mama!" echoed T'Jenn, tugging on her mother's sleeve. The toddler opened her mouth and made a sound that translated as "Feed me!" When Christine didn't respond, the little girl yanked more insistently. "Mama!!"

With an exasperated sigh, Christine looked at her husband. "Spock, will you take this child and get her something to eat? I am never going to get this sewing finished!"

From his work area of the cramped cabin, Spock sighed too and got to his feet. Picking up his daughter, he parked her on his hip and found a piece of bread for her. Then, catching up his flute, he said, "Come, t'chi'a, let's give your mother a bit of time alone." Ducking through the door, he went out into the early spring sunshine.

Sapel considered going with him, but he was more interested in playing with his pet hunting cat. Scruffy was acting funny lately, rolling onto her back and purring loudly. Every now and then, she'd give a little yowl and leap to her feet, looking around wildly, then would groom herself intensely. It was the liveliest she'd been all winter, shut in as she'd been with her family.

"She's just stir crazy," Christine had commented. "She feels spring in the air and it's making her nutty."

Sapel wasn't so sure. He's seen Scruff in all her moods and this was a new one. She had a new odor, too, a strong one.

Now his mother frowned over her sewing, trying to see by the light coming in through the membrane covered window and finally said, "Sapel, take that animal out of here. And leave the door open a bit. Lord, but I'll be happy when I can open this place up and air it out properly!"

"Yes, Mama." Sapel got up and donned his obsidian-bladed knife, then clucked to his pet. "C'mon, Scruffy. Let's go play." The hunting cat beat him through the door and made a mad dash immediately up a nearby tree.

Christine closed her eyes and did some deep breathing, attempting to calm herself down. She'd felt as if her nerves were stretched to the breaking point lately and her hands trembled slightly as she went back to her sewing. The cabin now quiet and the repetitive actions of stitching soothing her, her mind turned to the past three or four months.

Winter had been relatively mild here in the steam-warmed caldera. There had been snow and cold, ice crusting the lake, and harsh winds blowing down off the mountain, but overall it was nothing like the winters they'd spent in their valley home on the plains. There, arctic blasts had blown in blizzards and ice storms on a regular basis. But even here the family had been largely confined to the hogan's cramped dimensions. Four people and a hunting cat in one small room had them all longing for spring.

The first signs of it had arrived this week. It was still winter but they had found little purple flowers pushing up through the remnants of the last snowfall and some of the trees had bud swellings on their limbs. There was a freshness in the air as well that was hard to define but undoubtedly there.

Christine had not felt entirely well during the winter, her attention attuned to her own body. She hadn't had a period in four months, other than a bit of light spotting now and then. And there were other signs. Often at night, she'd throw back the fur coverings as waves of heat consumed her and she'd find herself drenched in sweat.

"What's wrong?" Spock had whispered in alarm the first time it happened, disturbed out of his sleep by her flapping her gown to cool off.

"Nothing. I'm just hot," she'd whispered back in irritation. "Go to sleep."

After a while the heat dissipated and she got cold again, now feeling clammy from sweat. She had begun to shiver and wrapped herself snugly in the furs, scrunching up against Spock's body in search of warmth. He had turned on his side to pull her against him, but she'd shrugged him away irritably. "Go to sleep!" she'd ordered him and stayed tensed up until she finally fell back to sleep herself.

By now she'd recognized the symptoms. She was undoubtedly beginning to go through menopause. It was early. She was only 42, as near as she could figure, given the longer year of this planet's orbit around its sun. If she were still in the Federation, she'd seek out an endocrinologist who would stabilize her hormone levels and ward off this "change of life" for another decade or two. It wasn't unusual anymore for women in their seventies to remain fertile and even produce children. There was one case of an 87-year-old woman having a baby by natural means.

Christine allowed herself a little smirk at that. Lord, she thought, who'd want to have a baby at 87! Then she smiled again. A Vulcan maybe. Many Vulcan women were still giving birth when they were over one hundred.

That caused her to glance up at the partially open doorway where she could hear the sweet strains of Spock's bamboo flute drifting up from the water's edge. In other circumstances, she could think of nothing she'd like better than to bear and raise Spock's babies. She loved him desperately, but this past winter she'd found her sexual desire waning. As her hormone levels changed, her libido had seemed to become dormant. It was more than just her determination not to become pregnant again. They could have had sex in a dozen different ways that would not have put her in the least danger of conceiving. In the past they had both indulged in a great deal of oral sex and even mutual masturbation was better than strict celibacy.

But she hadn't even wanted to do that. On occasion she'd tried to get herself stimulated, but it was as if the spark she needed wasn't there anymore. At least not as far as Spock was concerned. In fact, the other night she'd had a dream about Roger, back when she first knew him and they'd fallen in love. There was a tinge of eroticism to the dream that she couldn't remember, but which made her feel disloyal to Spock. If she was going to dream about someone, it should be her husband!

Christine sighed and put down her sewing, unable to concentrate on what she was doing. The spring weather beckoned her as well and she decided that a hot bath would soothe her nerves. Farther down the shore, near the geyser field, hot springs bubbled up and ran into the lake, where the boiling hot water was cooled to a tolerable temperature by the cold waters of the lake. It was a favorite bathing spot for them all but it had been too cold lately to make the trip down there.

Now, her mind made up, Christine gathered up her chamois towels and pinned her long braid up with bone hair picks. She found Spock sitting on a fallen log by the waterside, T'Jenn perched on his knee and listening in delight as her father played simple tunes on his homemade flute. He stopped and looked up at his wife as she came along side.

"I'm gonna go take a bath," she said. "I just need a good hot soak right now."

"Very well. I will come if you need me."

"Just watch the kids. I shouldn't be gone more than an hour or two." With that, Christine set out toward the plumes of steam rising about a mile away.

* * *

The place they liked bathe was a little cove where at some forgotten time in the distant past black volcanic cinders had formed a layer of ash. This had long since compacted and now formed a beach that was soft and firm underfoot and stretched for an unknown way underneath the lake waters. Hot springs trickled in steaming rivulets down through the beach, their tracks vivid with multi-colored algae and bacteria pads that thrived in temperatures no human could tolerate.

Where the waters of springs and lake mixed, the surface fumed and occasionally bubbled, but not far from there the water was like a soothing immersion of heat, perfect on a cold spring day for relaxing tired muscles and soaking away tension and grief.

Christine disrobed quickly, her skin prickling in gooseflesh in the cold air, and slipped her foot into the water. At first it seemed unbearably hot but then her senses adapted and she waded out until she was about knee deep. There a series of rocks protruded from the lake bottom, rising above the water level, and forming an ideal back rest. Christine lowered herself into the water and leaned back against the rock, sinking down until the steamy waters lapped about her shoulders and chin. With a luxurious sigh, she closed her eyes and settled back, letting the natural spa do its magic.

As her weariness flowed inexorably out of her, she dozed and began to dream.

She was in the caverns of Exo III, deep beneath its frozen surface, in the warm environs of the long lost city of the androids. In her dream, however, it was the University of Toronto and she was again a student in advanced biochemistry, finishing her master's degree. Roger was teaching it. They had been lovers for some time now and, as he lectured, she smiled at him and leaned back to rub her very pregnant belly. Inside her, Roger's baby moved and kicked, full of life and eager to come into the world. She was due soon, before the end of the semester actually. She wouldn't make it until the end of term, but she was confident that she could take her finals from her hospital bed and finish the course.

She couldn't keep her mind from wandering to the nights she spent with Roger and she felt her groin tighten in anticipation. Even heavily pregnant, she wanted him, to feel his big frame hunched over her back, holding her firmly but tenderly, as he rode her to ecstatic completion. It was odd, though, that she couldn't remember exactly when she'd become pregnant by him. She knew he was going away soon on a research project so maybe she'd decided not to wait. Yes, that was it. He had gone away and she'd found him here, on Exo, teaching the androids all about biochemistry.

The class seemed to be over now because all the androids were leaving. All except Andrea and the giant, Ruk. Christine frowned as the three of them came toward her.

"Ah, Christine, my darling," Roger smiled at her. "I wonder if we might use you for a demonstration."

"Of what?" she asked, puzzled.

"Well, you know how androids are made. I've shown you that," Roger explained. "But Ruk and Andrea are very curious about how humans reproduce. They know that we have mated to produce a child and they want to see how it's done."

Stunned, Christine looked from one placid face to the other in disbelief. "You must be joking!"

"No, I'm perfectly serious," Korby responded, his blue eyes wide with sincerity. "I promised to demonstrate our mating practices and, after all, you are the logical choice for that. You are my mate, after all."

Christine stood up and backed away. "This is absurd, Roger. I certainly will not have sex with you in front of these ... these..."

"But I thought you liked sex, Christine." He stared at her unblinking as he advanced.

"That's beside the point!"

"You'd have sex fast enough if I were Spock," he stated, his expression hardening slightly.

"Spock..." Her mind flashed to the tall Vulcan whom she'd met only weeks before on the Enterprise. "He doesn't love me."

"But you love him. You told him so," Roger reasoned, still advancing on her. "Just pretend I'm Spock. Close your eyes and make believe I love you."

He was pressing her against the wall now and she did close her eyes, but in confusion and terror. "No, Roger! Stop this! You're not Spock... Spock!" She tried to fight him off and, almost of its own accord, her mind screamed out, Spock!!!

Suddenly he was there, running into the room with his phaser in his hand, just as he had before. Only this time he was alone, no security guards behind him. He immediately vaporized Ruk and Andrea, then turned to meet Korby who had swung to the attack. The phaser beam hit Korby's hand at a glancing blow and Christine screamed as she had done before, horrified at the sight of spitting wires and hissing hydraulics revealed in Roger's damaged hand.

The scientist turned back to his fiancee. "Christine, does this matter so much? I'm human! He's not! I can love you! He can't!"

Her eyes were filled with tears as she answered, "Don't you see, Roger? You're not human! You can't love me!"

His face contorted and he lunged for her. "Then give me back the android child I planted inside you!"

Christine's screech of fear and denial was simultaneous with the shriek of the phaser beam, hitting Korby and destroying him forever. Spock instantly slapped the phaser against his belt and rushed to catch her as she fell, her legs giving out beneath her.

"Christine!" He caught her in his arms and lowered her to the floor, sinking down beside her to hold her tight against him, his heart pounding heavily in his side. "Thank Heya I was not too late. Are you injured?"

"No," she sobbed, then gasped as her belly cramped up. "Oh... I think I'm in labor!"

"I have to get you back to the ship." He attempted to get her to her feet but she clutched her stomach and cried out.

"No, there isn't time! It's coming!" She groaned as another hard contraction hit, then suddenly grasped his tunic and pleaded, "Oh, Spock! Roger was an android! They all were! Even the Captain! He said the baby is an android, too! I don't want to give birth to some ... thing!"

Spock stroked her hair and assured her softly, "You will not. I promise."

"How do I know you're not an android, too?" she sobbed.

"I will prove it to you." He rested her against the wall and drew the Romulan-design steel knife that was hanging at his side. With the point, he pricked his thumb and held it up for her to see. A bright emerald drop of blood shimmered from the wound and then trickled down. "Give me your thumb," he instructed her.

Trembling, she did and he stabbed the point of the knife into the fleshy pad of her thumb. She jumped involuntarily and ruby blood flowed immediately. Spock did not release her, however, but pressed the bleeding wounds together, the blood mingling into one variegated stream.

"Now, we are one," he told her softly, gazing into her eyes. "Our blood is one and our children will testify to that unity."

"But my baby ... it's Roger's," she protested.

Spock only shook his head. "See what you have borne..."

Christine looked down to find that she had indeed given birth. Somehow she had been so distracted that she hadn't noticed. She was naked from the waist down and between her legs, still attached to her by an umbilical cord, lay a perfect, elfin baby girl. She seemed too tiny to be real, but she squirmed and moved her arms and legs. Without hesitation, Christine reached to pick her up, cuddling the diminutive infant against her. Now she could see that the baby was Vulcan, her little ears coming to delicate points, her wisp of hair dark and shiny, her hint of brows sweeping up above coal black eyes.

"She is mine," Spock whispered. "She is ours." He leaned to kiss Christine's hair. "Never doubt that I love you, t'hyla. Never."

And Christine began to cry, with remorse and happiness and an upwelling of emotions she could not begin to name.

* * *

Spock!!!

The cry shot through Spock's mind like an arrow, causing him to physically jerk in response. Quickly he recovered and called, "Sapel! Come take your sister!" The boy hurried over and Spock handed the child into his hands. "Your mother needs me. Watch T'Jenn. Don't let her go near the water."

With that, Spock was off at a run in Christine's direction. It was about a half-mile from their cabin and he covered the distance in five minutes. As he arrived, slightly out of breath, he found his wife huddled on the shore, wrapped in her chamois towels and softly weeping as she dried herself.

"Christine! What's wrong? What is it?" he demanded, searching for some danger or hurt she might have suffered.

Dully, she looked up at him and answered, "Nothing. I'm all right."

"You Sent for me," he insisted. "It was quite strong."

"I was just having a bad dream. Nothing's wrong." She quickly pulled on her clothing and moccasins and started past him.

Exasperated and angry in spite of himself, Spock reached out and grasped her upper arm, stopping her in her tracks. "This has gone on long enough, Christine," he stated. "I want to know what is wrong with you and what can be done to correct it."

She tried to yank loose from his grip, but his Vulcan strength was like steel. "Let go of me! You're hurting me!"

He eased up just a little but did not release her. "You are nervous and irritable, you have nightmares, you have pushed me away whenever I touch you. This behavior is negatively affecting all of us. It is time to do something about it."

With tears welling more strongly in her eyes, Christine's countenance crumpled. "I don't know what to do! I think I'm going crazy!" And with that she broke down into agonized sobs.

Spock sighed and drew her into his embrace, having learned over the years that her all-too-human emotions sometimes simply required a good cry to set things right again. She clung to him and buried her face in the soft buckskin covering his chest, sliding her arms around him to hold him as if never to let him go and for several minutes they simply stood together, Spock stroking her hair and Christine pouring out the anxiety and despair welled up inside her.

When she finally raised her face and wiped the tears away, she was not as tense, but he could feel that there was still an ocean of unhappiness within her. He brushed away a tear from her cheek with his thumb and peered down at her seriously. "I believe that a talk is very long over due, my wife. I cannot help you if I do not understand what is causing you such distress. Come, let's go back to camp and you will tell me everything that you are feeling."

She couldn't help the sardonic little smirk that twitched one corner of her mouth. "I thought Vulcans didn't have feelings."

He quirked one eyebrow slightly. "I do not believe that an argument about such things would be appropriate just now. After being bonded with me for nearly seven years, I should think you would know the answer to that all too well."

She did smile then, though a bit sadly. "Yes, I do know. I do." She sighed and leaned against his side, slipping an arm around his waist, and they began the walk back toward camp.

* * *

Holding his baby sister, Sapel watched in dismay as his father disappeared at a dead run. He had absolutely no desire to be forced into babysitting, especially when he'd just been about to follow Scruffy on her prowling into the nearby woods. Turning in that direction, he was just in time to see the white tuft on the end of her tail disappear into the shadows and Sapel swung back in frustration, hoping that Spock would come back and take the toddler who was squirming to get down.

But the tall Vulcan was barely in sight, still going at a fast clip down the lake shore. In a few seconds, he was lost to view as well.

"Down!" T'Jenn demanded, wriggling out of her brother's arms. He let her feet reach the ground but did not turn her completely loose. She grunted and tugged to get her chubby hand free, squealing in agitation.

"No, Jenn!" he answered. She fought harder but then he had an inspiration. "Come on, let's find Scruffy," he said in mock happiness.

The little girl paused, recognizing the name. "Ki-ki," she answered with a broad grin, using her word for the "kitty".

"That's right. Let's go find the kitty." Taking her little hand, Sapel started off in the direction the hunting cat had gone, his baby sister beside him.

* * *

"I do not fully understand this physiological change," Spock said, walking slowly with his hands clasped behind his back, "but I do wish to help see you through it."

"I don't fully understand it either," Christine answered, matching his leisurely pace. "I mean, as a nurse, I know the medical reasons ... hormone changes and all that ... but it's not an easy thing to experience. My emotions are really volatile right now and I just feel like I'm about to jump out of my skin at anything. Back home ... in the Federation, I mean ... I'd be taking hormone supplements that would even all this out or even postpone it indefinitely. I'd be my usual smiling, cheerful self instead of the Psycho War Bitch from Hell."

He glanced at her with an indulgent smile. "You are hardly that," he answered.

"I feel like it, though." She sighed. "You all must have been ready to strangle me this winter. I can't have been easy to live with."

He shrugged. "You were ... um ... testy at times," he admitted.

Christine laughed and punched him in the arm. "Testy, eh? I'll show you 'testy'!"

She made a sudden grab for his mid-section, exactly on target for the few spots where she knew he was ticklish. Instantly realizing her intent, Spock leaped back then grabbed her wrists, fending off her attack but only using enough strength to prevent her reaching his ribs. She laughed again and redoubled her efforts, he dancing away and holding her hands back.

At last she gave up and, as he felt her stop her assault, he pulled her into his arms and bent to capture her mouth in an increasingly prolonged and urgent kiss. She leaned into it, opening her lips to his searching tongue, and almost immediately the long-damped fires in each of them sprang into being once again. His right hand came up to her face and his fingers spread onto her meld points, then he was there within her as he had not been for the endless, barren months of winter just past.

//T'hy'la! Beloved!//

//Spock! Oh, my Spock! I've missed you so much!//

Further communication flared into a non-verbal level, the colors of pure emotion swirling together in a kaleidoscope of hues and sensations. Bodies responded to minds and, before either of them knew it, she was on her back beneath him, fingers tearing at his clothing as quickly as he worked at hers, opening the way. He got her loin cloth aside enough to find her and then plunged into her with a force that drew a cry from both of them. Had he thought about it longer, he would have prepared her better, but she didn't care. Her body screamed to join with his and the rough entry sent her soaring up into almost immediate orgasm.

He paused to allow her to crest her wave of ecstasy, then resumed his frantic thrusts. It only took him a moment more before the unbearable pressure within his gut exploded in a frenzied release. With a gasp of near-pain, he emptied himself into her welcoming depths, but then did not pull away from her, for his erection was as hard and ravenous as ever. Instead, he rolled over onto his back, taking her with him, and she happily straddled him, sighing and wriggling deeper onto the wonderful impalement.

As she began to move her hips against him, he reached for the lacing on her shirt, pulling the rawhide strings away and baring her beautiful, full breasts. She had nearly finished weaning T'Jenn and her breasts were returning to their normal size. But they were still large and her nipples swelled to full extension in the cold air, arousing him to a new level. Pulling her toward him, he lifted his head and latched onto one of them, sucking vigorously, then switched and did the other.

Christine moaned and rocked against him harder, quickly building back to a rapturous peak. It triggered a like sensation within him and with a groan he released her and threw his head back, arching up underneath her as climax took him once more. This one she rode with him, her voice lifting to a keen of delirium as his fire erupted deep inside her.

When both came down, they sagged together, breathing hard, Christine's face sheened with sweat. As she opened sparkling blue eyes to gaze deep into his dark brown ones, she leaned forward and kissed him tenderly.

"We shouldn't have done that," she said softly. "I could get pregnant..."

He reached and took her face within his large, strong hands. "My t'hy'la, I will say this just once more and I want you to listen. I will not impregnate you unless it is your wish that I do so. The scent and taste of your skin is wholly different to me when you are ovulating and I will not have sexual relations with you during that time. I promise. But other times I want to hold you and love you as we have done since we came here. Withdrawing yourself is obviously detrimental to us both. Please ... trust me that I will do what is best for you ... for all of us."

Christine hung her head and tears leaked from beneath her dark lashes. "Spock ... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

She leaned forward into his arms and they lay embraced for a few more minutes, then he shifted beneath her. "We must get up, beloved. We have left the children alone too long now and also this ground is quite cold!" He kissed her gently. "Tonight, after they are asleep and we are together in our bed furs, I promise that we will continue this."

Laughing softly, she got off him and stood, tugging her loin cloth back into place and relacing her tunic. He rose and did the same, then hand in hand they hurried toward their camp a quarter mile away.

* * *

Jenny whimpered and tugged at Sapel's hand, obviously tired of walking. Intent on finding Scruffy, the boy picked her up and hefted her onto his hip. The toddler was nearly too heavy for him, but the hidden reserve of his Vulcan strength compensated. By Terra Two years, Sapel was seven years old, but in Vulcan or human reckoning, he was closer to ten.

"Ki-ki?" T'Jenn asked him.

"I don't know where the kitty is, Jenn," he answered, peering around them through the trees. "We'll have to keep looking."

The toddler pointed. "Ki-ki!"

Sapel looked in the direction she indicated and, after a few seconds, saw the pattern of a spotted golden hide among the trees. Something about it didn't look right, though, and Sapel hesitated. "Scruffy?" he ventured.

The hunting cat peered hard at the boy for a long minute, then abruptly leaped up and dashed away into the woods.

* * *

Camp was strangely deserted when Spock and Christine arrived back at their homesite. "Sapel?" the woman called and ducked into the hogan. She was back a minute later.

"Sapel!" Spock echoed, searching visually and listening for an answer.

"Jenny!" Christine was beginning to sound worried. "Spock, where could they be?"

"I do not know," he answered. "Sapel!"

"Oh, Spock, if something has happened to them--"

"I do not sense any distress from Sapel," he responded in a soothing manner. "They have likely just wandered away." He closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment then started toward the woods. "This way," he said and marched off, Christine hurrying after him.

* * *

A low growl stopped Sapel in his tracks. "Scruff?" he asked uncertainly.

The hunting cat crouched ten meters away swished its tail warningly and laid back its black-tufted ears, growling again.

"Ki-ki!" Jenn exclaimed in delight, but her brother was suddenly focused on the animal with complete attention, holding his sister firmly against him with his left arm and drawing his obsidian-bladed knife with his right hand.

This wasn't Scruffy. It was a wild male cat, the one their pet had mated. Her odd behavior and scent made sense now, too. Scruffy was in season and had gone into the woods seeking her mate.

T'Jenn squirmed again and tried to get down, but Sapel held her in an iron grip, backing slowly away. "Hush, Jenn!" he commanded in a low voice.

The cat bared its teeth and hissed a warning. "It's okay," Sapel told him softly. "We're not trying to hurt you. It's okay."

Abruptly there was a chirping sound to one side and Scruffy appeared, tail high and clearly impatient with her mate. Meowing, she sashayed in front of him, wafting her scent with her waving tail, then scampered off again.

Sapel held his breath and he and the male hunting cat locked gazes for a long minute, then the cat rose out of his crouch, gave the boy one more piercing glare, and disappeared after the female. Sapel released his pent breath and felt weak with relief. T'Jenn wriggled fiercely and he put her down, but refused to allow her to follow the two "kitties." The little girl's face puckered up in anger and she let out a wail and a flood of tears.

Tired of dealing with her, Sapel sighed as he resheathed his knife. "Aw, shut up, T'Jenn. Quit yer blubberin'."

"Sapel! Jenny!" Christine's frantic voice cut through the trees and then their mother was there, scooping up her baby and hugging her frantically. Their father was hard on her heels, knife drawn and scanning the scene for danger. "Are you all right? What has happened?"

"Nothing's wrong," the boy answered in disgust. "We were just following Scruffy, that's all."

"Why is T'Jenn crying?" Spock demanded, slipping his knife back into its belt scabbard.

"Aw, she's just mad. I wouldn't let her go off after Scruffy when she ran off."

Relief flooded through Spock, being replaced almost automatically with anger. "I told you to watch her."

"I did watch her!" the boy flared back.

"There is no need to raise your voice, Sapel," Spock warned.

"Watch your tone!" Christine snapped at the same time, still rocking her younger child.

But Sapel would have none of it. "For cryin' out loud!" he retorted. "You dump her on me and run off, but then don't trust me to have enough sense to wipe my nose!"

"Your volume level is unacceptable," his father said quietly in an icy tone.

"Well, quit treatin' me like I'm stupid!" the boy returned, although he was beginning to feel intimidated by his tall father's implied threat of punishment. While he knew that Spock would not physically punish him, he was too familiar with the mental ostracism Spock could inflict. Sapel and his father had only begun to mend their damaged relationship during the winter months just past and the wounds were still easily damaged.

Christine sensed the stand-off between father and son and stepped in, now that T'Jenn was snuggling against her shoulder, sniffling and sucking her thumb. "All right, there's no harm done," the woman said. "It's all over. Let's go home and have some lunch."

For a moment Spock and Sapel were silent, exchanging hard glares, then both seemed to back off. "Agreed," her husband answered softly.

"Fine," added Sapel.

With peace once more restored, the family started back toward their home on the lake shore.

* * *

Thunder was softly rumbling through the night as Spock slipped into the sleeping furs beside his wife. Spring rain was coming again, as it had been off and on throughout the past week. As the new season had progressed, grass had sprouted and trees had burst into leaf, turning the world around the homesite a fresh green that sang renewal. It was early yet and the threat of cold weather had not entirely abated, but new life was appearing. Early calves and fawns were already beginning to appear among the grazers and deer, although most would not be born until about a month later. But these harbingers of warmer weather had gladdened the hearts of the family.

The rains had begun several days before, brief loud storms, brilliant with lightning and tumultuous with thunder, dropping torrents in minutes, then passing on over, leaving the residual clouds to rain themselves out as they trailed behind. Tonight's storm promised to be just the same sort.

As Spock settled himself, Christine snuggled against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his skin, warm and alien, though familiar to her now as her own. He smelled of wood smoke and leather, of musk and perspiration, not unpleasant, but primally male. There was nothing rank or unwashed about his odor, but was the scent of honest masculinity and innate sexuality. It sent a tightness pulsing through her groin in answer.

He responded to the sensation that came through their bond, his own body answering her summons. Turning on his side to face her, he drew her against him, pulling her to his bare chest. Thunder again grumbled, louder this time.

"Do you remember the first time we made love," he murmured to her, stroking her hair away from her face in the darkness.

"Mmmm," she responded with a smile. "We got caught in a downpour. We were soaked when we got back to our cave."

"It was the first time I saw you completely naked," he answered, his lips teasing her cheek with light caresses. "You drove every bit of control away."

She laughed softly, baring her throat to his mouth. "You were going into pon farr. I could have stood there in a radiation suit and you'd've jumped me!"

"Possibly, but it was the sight of you standing there with your back to me, your hair hanging down to your waist, your skin lit by firelight that made me realize I could resist you no longer." He caught her mouth with his and held it, his tongue gently seeking entry between her lips.

When they parted, she gave a little moan deep in her throat and smiled. "And there you were ... shirtless and wet and your hair long and loose ... I nearly had an orgasm on the spot."

"Then we were already of one mind," he responded, pulling her once more into a long, sensual kiss. His fingers slipped into meld position and immediately their psyches joined into a mutual memory...

Christine was laughing and Spock nearly so when they ducked out of the driving rain and into the cave they had been calling home for six months. She went immediately to the rear of the shelter, where her bedding lay, while he wedged the door shield into place and poked the fire up higher, taking the chill out of the room. It felt good to his naked skin as his hair dripped little rivulets down his back and chest and he prepared to move to his own sleeping area to change out of his wet clothing.

Movement froze him where he was and he stood enraptured by the sight before him. Christine stood with her back to him and had already shed her soaked leather dress. It lay puddled around her ankles and she stepped out of it, kicking it away. She had undone her hair and was now leaning her head back, shaking the mass free, the blonde locks cascading nearly to her waist. His focus moved farther down, to the rounded, inviting globes of her buttocks, and long straight lines of her legs. The firelight painted her skin gold and scarlet, punctuated by deep shadows and hints of others.

Of its own volition, his body responded to the woman before him, his groin tightening and his breath coming short. Before he knew what he was doing, Spock was walking toward her, scarcely able to hear his own whisper through the blood pounding in his ears. "Christine..."

She turned to face him and the full impact of her femininity hit him hard. Her full, rose-tipped breasts came into view, nipples taut and high, then his gaze went down the curve of her stomach, past the dimple of her navel, to the triangle of dark hair at the juncture of her thighs. He caught a glimpse of the cleft beneath and its primal sexuality pulsed even stronger through his growing erection. Then his eyes came back to her face and he was lost. Her blue eyes pulled him into the maelstrom of emotions swirling beneath their surface -- love, lust, hope, need, fear...

And then she was in his arms, their lips together in a frantic kiss. Tongues fenced desperately as they unleashed the passion that had been building between them. Both their hands worked to free him of the wet leggings and loincloth that still clung to his lower body, to strip him of any impediment that would delay their joining. At last he was rid of the soaked clothing and they were truly together at last, skin to skin.

Thunder rolled as he took her down onto the sleeping furs, hungrily feasting on her lips and throat and breasts, his throbbing erection jabbing into her groin. Reaching between them, she grasped the pulsating rod and tugged him into position between her spread thighs, her very touch inflaming him beyond rational thought. The head lodged into place at her threshold and he needed no further plea. Hefting himself above her, his hips lunged forward and his engorged manhood rammed hilt deep within her.

Christine arched up beneath him with a cry and her nails dug into his back. Spock gasped aloud as well, overcome by the sensation of full penetration into her tight, wet depths. Though he had long ago surrendered his boyhood to the priestesses on Seleya, this was a wholly new and unexpected experience. Christine was not a dispassionate temple concubine, helping young men through their first Awakening. All her sexual energy and desire for him surged through her skin like electrical currents, reinforcing the already nearly unbearable pressure building in his gut. He gave a shove with his hips, driving him deeper, and that just made it all the more wonderful and exquisite. Beneath him, Christine moaned and squirmed, her hips moving in a corresponding rhythm.

It was all it took. An instant later, they were locked into a cadence as old as time and as new as dawn. Her long legs went around his hips and held him, her fingers digging into his back muscles, cries of ecstasy escaping her lips with every impact of his pelvis against hers. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked almost immediately, the storm giving added expression to their building passion.

With a ground-shaking retort, thunder reverberated the entire cave and Spock gave his own roar of completion. Release took him with explosive force and he slammed into her as far as he could, holding them both on the knife edge of eternity. Christine shuddered uncontrollably beneath him, a long keen escaping from clenched teeth.

Then both storms slackened their force and eased off, the thunder dying down to a muted grumble as the rain poured and Spock slumping over his lover's sweat-drenched body.

"Oh, God..." Christine murmured against his ear, still holding him tightly in her arms, trembling with the last spasms of climax she felt deep within her. He was still buried inside her, still hard, filling her like nothing she had ever felt.

Raising himself on one arm over her, Spock bent and caught her lips, all of his surging emotions expressed in the kiss. When he lifted his head, they were back in the shelter of their cabin, the rain pounding on the roof, the children asleep on the other side of the room. Christine closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm surprised we didn't wake the kids," she whispered.

"We were quiet," he assured her. "You were simply remembering the first time."

She chuckled. "More than remembering evidently!" He was hard inside her and she could feel the wetness of his ejaculation between her legs.

Spock lifted an eyebrow and smiled down at her. "Part of it was reality," he admitted.

"Mmmm..." She put her arms around his neck and pulled him back down to her, bringing his lips to hers. "Let's stick to all reality," she suggested and shoved her hips up against him.

He responded with a thrust into her depths, then settled into a soft, steady rhythm that would take them back to the excitement they had known so many times.

Beneath them, the ground suddenly moved in a shudder of its own, and this time it had nothing to do with thunder.

* * *

Spock stood looking down at the scene before him, trying to decipher what was wrong with it. Nothing came readily to mind. The wooded glade at the edge of the lake was peaceful, the water lapping quietly among the roots of the trees. Birds chirped and flittered in their branches, intent on tending and feeding their nestlings. In the reeds along the shore, water fowl swam with their ducklings, diving again and again for subsurface plants and insect larvae, minnows and tadpoles. On the other side of the inlet, deer were drinking, always one or two with raised head, alert for danger. Farther away, Spock could see a small herd of giant elk feeding, the cows and calves watched over by their herd stag, imposing and regal even without his crown of antlers. It was spring and he had shed them during the winter. He wouldn't begin to sprout the buds of new growth until early summer.

There was nothing in the least disturbing about the tranquil scene yet something about it was out of place. And then it came to Spock what was wrong with the picture before him -- the water of the lake was up around the roots of the trees. Where in the previous autumn this land had been high and dry, now it was underwater. Something had caused the lake to over run its shoreline here at the lower end of its bed and it was flooding a section of trees with a gentle inundation. Possibly it was because of the spring rains, but Spock didn't think so. The mature trees that were growing here did not tolerate having their bases under water. They were already showing signs of distress and he thought they would be dead before the summer was out.

Disturbed, he turned and looked toward the far end of the valley where the peak of the dormant volcano rose into the blue sky, its summit still covered with a brilliant cap of snow that ran two-thirds of the way down its cone. Snow melt might account for the rise in water level, too, but again he was hesitant to accept that solely as the cause. The little earthquakes they'd been experiencing for months caused him to wonder if there wasn't more going on beneath the volcano than was obvious.

Determining to keep an eye on the mountain and any activity it might be displaying, Spock turned back to his hunting and started on his way to the far side of the lake, intent on bagging a deer.

* * *

Spring wore on in a succession of brilliant days and rainy ones. Sapel turned seven and T'Jenn one year old, in Terra Two reckoning. The boy was closer to ten, however, in Earth years, and the toddler almost a year and a half. Christine had weaned her daughter over the winter months and gradually her breasts had returned to their normal size. But it seemed to Christine that they were not as taut as in her youth.

She stood one evening as she prepared for bed and lamented on the fact. "God," she commented, hefting her bare breasts with both hands. "I've gone from a 36C to a 54 long!"

Spock peered at her quizzically and his brows rose in question. "That is completely illogical, Christine."

"I know," she chuckled, "but it just goes to show what two kids and no bra will do to you! I feel like 'Federation Geographic woman.'."

That brought a further quirk to Spock's brows.

"You know, those articles in the nature holozines? Those jungle women with the saggy boobs down to their waists?"

"Christine, your breasts are still quite shapely and beautiful," he replied, having over his years with humans come to understand the importance human women set in the size and shape of their mammary glands. He didn't begin to understand it, but it was a fact he had long ago accepted and learned to deal with. He had also learned that complimenting one's mate and reassuring her of her innate sexuality was ultimately rewarding. "In fact, if you will come to bed, I shall demonstrate the extent to which your body attracts me."

She laughed softly and did so. Spock could not tell if she was actually blushing or whether it was the ruddy light from the hearth fire that caused her skin to glow. In any case, she did indeed reimburse his compliment in full measure and it was some time before they lay in companionable silence, snuggled in post-coital drowsiness, although neither of them was truly sleepy.

In the darkness, they could hear Scruffy moving restlessly about and, at last, Christine got up. "Do you need out, sweetie?" she whispered.

The hunting cat gave a low, scratchy meow and the woman unbarred the hogan door. At once the sleek animal slipped out and disappeared into the darkness. Christine remained standing in the doorway, peering out at the moonlit lake sparkling in the night. Naked, her figure was limned with silver in an ethereal halo.

Spock joined her, one of the sleeping furs wrapped around his lower body, and slipped his arms around her from behind, pulling her against him. His body heat felt delicious next to her skin and she wriggled and murmured happily.

"What is it?" he asked close to her ear. "What are you observing?"

"Nothing," she answered, folding her arms over his. "It's just so beautiful out tonight. I wish it were warmer. I'd love a midnight swim."

"It is too early yet for that," he answered. "The water is still quite cold. I do not wish for you to become ill."

"No, not when we're about to be grandparents," she responded.

He drew back in surprise. "What? What are you talking about, Christine?"

She chuckled. "Scruffy. It's time."

"Do you mean she is..."

"Of course, silly! I thought you were more observant than that! She's been 'nesting' for days now and tonight she was especially restless and licking her flanks. She's gone off to have her kittens."

Spock stood in dumbfounded silence. "I have not noticed her girth increasing. She did not look pregnant to me."

Christine glanced over her shoulder with a patient, martyred expression. "No, I don't suppose a man would. But one mother can usually tell another mother. Especially if one of those mothers is a nurse. Believe me, when she comes back, she'll have babies in her pouch." Turning in his arms, she nestled against him. "Let's go back to bed. I'm cold and I need a little Vulcan heat to warm me up!"

He felt his groin twitch in response. "Indeed, I am becoming chilled standing here as well. I do believe we will find ample warmth beneath our bed furs."

Mischievously, she reached down to stroke the hardening bulge below the fur wrapped around his middle. "Mmmm, I think something's getting warm under this fur! I think this might be just what we need to take the chill off!"

Breaking away, she moved with a graceful stride back to their bedding and he paused only to bar the door before following her.

* * *

The summer sun was setting in a blaze of orange as Christine tested the hares roasting over the open fire outside the hogan. Not far away, Sapel and T'Jenn were laughing and running in the soft grass that spread away to the lake shores, alternately playing with Scruffy's two half-grown kittens and chasing the glitterbugs that were starting to appear in the twilight. Little Jenny was naked, enjoying the warm air on her skin, but Sapel, befitting his more grownup status, was attired in his loin cloth. Otherwise, his burnished skin and long tangled black hair were his only adornments. It was too hot for anything else.

The day had been a scorcher and Christine had long ago moved their cooking hearth to the "yard" of their dwelling. Except during thunderstorms, they all lived outdoors now, the tiny cabin much too close and stifling to endure in high summer.

"Watch her, Sapel!" the woman called. "Don't let her go near the water."

"They are fine," Spock's voice said behind her and she looked up to find her husband standing behind her, his gaze turned introspectively toward the mountain that rose on the far northern gate of their valley. The peak was painted carnelian in the slanting sunlight, its snowcap pink and yellow. Its reflection in the still lake water was of a darker hue, but still looking as if a god-child had splashed it with brilliant pigments from a heavenly paint box.

"You're worried about something," Christine commented, turning back to her baking. She was grilling flat bread on her cooking stone, dipping out handfuls of grainy batter from a carved bowl and dropping it onto the hot surface of the level stone at the edge of the fire. After a minute, she gingerly caught up the edge and flipped it, allowing the other side to cook. The result was a tough, unleavened tortilla or pancake, one of their staple foods when she could find the grassheads ripe enough to harvest and grind to flour.

Spock glanced down at his wife, then returned his gaze to the mountain. "I have been surveying the area. I do not like what I am finding."

"About the volcano? What?" she asked, flipping a griddle cake off onto the waiting stack and starting another one.

He strode forward a few paces until he was more even with her position. "The signs are pointing to a definite increase in activity. I believe we should begin making plans to winter at Sea Home."

Christine looked up at him, a crease of worry between her brows. "How bad? And how soon?"

"That I cannot tell," Spock replied. "I am not a geologist. However, it was a science with which I was required to be familiar in my duties as Science Officer."

His wife nodded. Although Spock's core profession was astrophysicist and he was a level A7 computer expert, he had more than a passing knowledge of all the sciences which he oversaw on board the Enterprise. Exogeology and planetary surveys were major functions of the Science Department. Despite his protestations to the contrary, Spock had the equivalent of a doctorate in the so-called "earth sciences."

Christine flipped another cake over. "All those little quakes are getting stronger and more frequent," she said. "I don't like that a bit."

"Indeed. It would indicate magma rising beneath the area," he agreed solemnly. "There is a definite bulge beginning to form on the southwestern flank of the mountain. If you know where to look, you can see it from here."

She glanced up, focusing on the peak, its summit still lit brilliantly with the last rays of the sun, now disappeared beneath the western horizon. "Hmmm ... I can't make it out."

"No matter. It is there. There are numerous other signs as well," Spock replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "However, volcanoes are notoriously unpredictable. It could erupt tomorrow or ten years from now."

"Well, I doubt it's going to go in the next hour. These hares are ready to eat." She removed the rabbits from directly before the fire and flipped the final piece of flat bread onto the stack of cakes already cooked. Raising her voice, she called, "Kids! Supper!!"

"Yippee!" Sapel answered and grabbed his sister's hand, leading her back to the cabin.

"Not so fast, mister," his mother stopped him. "You two get to that water bucket and wash your hands and faces first! Spock, help them, will you?"

"Yes." The Vulcan seemed to awake from his reverie and came back to the everyday world, going to help his children while his wife cleaned her own hands of bread batter and set out their simple wooden trenchers in preparation for their evening meal.

On the horizon, the final glimmer of sunlight faded and disappeared from the glacier-capped mountain and twilight deepened into night.

* * *

"Mine!" screamed T'Jenn, grabbing determinedly for the honey cake Sapel was eating.

"Get your own, Jenn!" he yelled back, holding it out of her reach.

This only caused the toddler to increase the volume and octave of her protests until it was a full shriek.

"Hush that noise NOW!" their mother commanded as their father simultaneously ordered, "Kroykah!"

The children shut up instantly. Christine rose from her loom and stamped over to confront them. "Is that the last cake, Sapel?" she asked.

"I saw it first!" he protested.

"Give it to me."

Reluctantly the boy handed over the cookie. His mother broke it in half and awarded a section to each of the children. T'Jenn squealed in glee and scampered off, but Sapel was decidedly affronted. "No fair!" he exclaimed. "I saw it first!"

His mother was unimpressed. "Who said life is fair?" she answered coolly. "Sometimes you have to share."

Grumbling, Sapel walked away, his half of the honey cake clutched in his fist. Christine returned to her work. She had been experimenting this summer with weaving, using various materials ranging from plant fibers to the undercoats of wool shed by the plains grazers. She'd been teaching herself by trial and error and was beginning to produce rough but serviceable cloth. Currently, she was at work on a blanket.

Spock was sitting cross-legged nearby, a leather hide spread over his lap, knapping flint into arrowheads and spear points. "Perhaps I should begin calling you 'Soloman'," he commented, his eyes crinkled in amusement. "You are very good at dispensing justice."

"Parents don't want justice," she responded. "They want quiet!"

Spock repressed a reflexive laugh by ducking his head and turning it into a little cough instead. Christine didn't miss it. "What do Vulcan parents do?" she asked.

"Vulcan parents have no need to mediate such disputes," he answered in his best, most logical manner. "Vulcan children are too well-behaved."

"In a pig's eye, as a friend of mine used to say." She glanced up in time to see him arch an eyebrow at her.

"Seriously, is such behavior normal among human children?" he asked.

Christine laughed, her fingers weaving woolen threads across the warp of her loom. "Oh, yes! And worse! I used to have knock-down-drag-outs with my sisters. It's a wonder any of us survived." She clacked the loom comb down to seat the threads then started on the next row. "What about you and your brother?"

Spock paused for a few seconds while he chipped a point. "Sybok was 62 when I was born. I barely knew him. He was not welcome in our home."

"Of course. Sorry. I forgot." She looked up to watch her two children, now once more playing happily with the hunting cats. Scruffy was lying in the sun, keeping an eye on her kittens, not far now from their full growth. Over the winter to come, they would stay with their mother, but by spring she would drive them away as she mated and produced a new litter.

Christine sighed reflectively. "I think an only child misses something that one with siblings doesn't," she said.

"A great deal of conflict, it seems," Spock answered, testing the arrow point with his thumb. Satisfied, he set it aside and selected a flake of flint to begin on the next.

"Maybe, but you do missing something."

The two worked in silence for a while, enjoying the relative peace that had returned, when abruptly the ground beneath them trembled. It was very slight and, had they both not been seated, they might have missed it. Both turned their gazes on the mountain and sat watchfully for a few moments. Nothing more happened except that they could see the steam plumes from the geysers at the far end of the lake billowing into the air.

"That's the third one today," Christine said in a serious voice.

"Indeed," Spock replied, his brows bunched together in concern.

"We need to talk about leaving here and going south."

"I know. I have given it considerable thought." Spock turned back to his tool making. "To begin, I do not know exactly where we are. We were farther west than we normally travel when we fled Lemuria. I do not wish to return by that route and risk being near Teeli territory. I am concerned enough about the proximity of Sea Home to the Lemurian conflict."

"Do you think they would come that far east?"

"Unknown." Spock was silent then continued, "I believe it would be wise to strike out due east from here. We may be no more than 200 to 250 miles from the valley and our cave home. If we went east, we would eventually come to territory with which we are familiar."

"Eventually," she repeated. "But when? And what will we find when we get there? We haven't been to the valley in two years. Who knows what may be living in our cave?"

"I have thought of that as well," Spock admitted. "The later in the year it becomes, the more reluctant I am to strike out on a move. And yet ... the seismic activity here makes me reluctant to stay."

"I feel the same way," Christine answered, her hands busy at her loom. "It's about September now. My feminine intuition says, 'Don't go too far.' Particularly not when we don't know what we're going to run into. I've see the blizzards that can come sweeping down the plains east of here and I don't want to be caught in one!" She glanced up to find Spock looking at her and retorted, "I know! It's not logical!"

"No, but I have learned to heed your instinct," he responded. "I do not understand it, but I nevertheless recognize its existence." He paused and then went on in a faintly embarrassed tone, "My ... gut feeling is this. We stay here, but be watchful and prepared to flee should the need arise. We must put together an emergency kit and set it aside should we be forced to leave at a moment's notice. Otherwise, we will gamble that our restless neighbor will remain no more than that."

Christine turned her gaze toward the snow-clad volcano looming to the north, its beautiful symmetrical cone belying the fires that simmered beneath it. The steam plumes had drifted away over the lake, its crystal blue waters serene. From its western shore, a flight of black geese broke and thundered into the sky, turning south, their honks heard long after they had disappeared from sight. In their wake, the caldera valley lay in a deceptive quiet.

* * *

There was a definite nip in the night air that spoke of a coming storm, the first of winter, as Christine doffed her elk-hide wrap and let it slip to the ground. "Brrr," she commented, goosebumps rising from the cold air, and quickly shed her leggings, tunic and loin cloth. Naked, she waded into the hot water of the geyser run-off, here where it met the lake waters and had cooled enough to be tolerable. It was their favorite bathing spot.

Spock stood for a moment more, scanning their surroundings for any signs of danger. The evening was quiet and tranquil. Almost too quiet, in fact, as if the native wildlife had sensed the impending storm and were already holed up. Overhead, the stars shown in frosty brilliance and there was a hazy halo around the three small moons, a sign that ice crystals were prevalent in the upper atmosphere, the precursor of the snows to come.

Still, it would not hit before the early morning and the family had taken this last opportunity for a hot bath before they were stuck indoors for the winter. Christine had bathed the children earlier in the afternoon and they were now safely in bed at the hogan. They had left Sapel in charge of things there, watching over his baby sister, while the two adults went to bathe. T'Jenn had been fast asleep when they left and Sapel was drowsing as well. The three hunting cats, Scruffy and her almost grown kittens, Pudge and Ro, were curled next to the fire, paws curved inward and long striped tails wrapped around their bodies, slitted eyes blinking sleepily as they purred next to the cozy warmth.

Next to the door, emergency packs had rested unneeded for three months, packed with non-perishable food, water, clothing and essentials. But, except for the constant, low-level earthquakes, there had been no further sign of seismic activity. Even those had seemed to taper off of late and the family was beginning to breathe a sigh of relief. The danger from the volcano was beginning to pass.

"Are you coming in or not?" Christine asked from the water.

"Yes." He turned and smiled at her, then leaned his hunting spear next to a rock, within easy reach, and undressed as she had. Once he was naked, he waded out to join his wife, now shoulder deep in the steaming water. She watched him approach, her eyes roaming over his magnificent body, from his long, nearly waist-length black hair, over his muscled shoulders and chest, down his flat stomach to the dark patch of hair at the junction of his thighs and the long column of flesh jutting below that. Her gaze lingered there and she unconsciously wet her lips. Even flaccid, he was imposing and she felt a pulse of excitement between her legs as she looked at him, no matter that his body was soon hidden from view as he approached her in the deeper water.

Chest deep in the water, he took her in his arms and bent to kiss her, loving the feel of her body pressed to his, of her full breasts against his chest, her stomach meeting his, her groin embracing his rapidly hardening penis. She slipped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss full measure. Their lips parted and their tongues touched, playing together in the increasing heat of their mouths.

Then he broke the kiss and moved his lips to tease and nip at her throat and Christine tilted her head back to give him better access. He paused over her throbbing pulse and tickled her skin with the tip of his tongue, before suddenly latching on and sucking deeply at her skin. Christine writhed against him, caught between a laugh and a gasp.

"Stop!" she finally managed to get out. "You're going to leave a mark!"

"Yes," he answered, his voice a soft growl, his mouth barely a centimeter above her throat. "I want to mark you ... make you mine." He bent back to his work, the suction of his mouth once more clamped onto her neck.

She sighed and closed her eyes. "I am yours, Spock," she whispered.

"Du ki'avon-telik?" he murmured as he kissed his way back to her face and mouth. "Vesht akarshif, lesh Vuhlkansu ulidar t'falek, t'salur mazhiv heh t'yon-dak yon-dukal."

Christine laughed. "Speak English, Spock! My Vulcan isn't that good!"

His hands roamed down her back to find her buttocks, squeezing the soft globes and pressing her more firmly against the hard shaft caught between them. "I asked if you hungered," he replied between kisses. "In the past Vulcans burned with the intensity of our sun. Now I burn for you."

"Oh, yes!" she answered and sank against him, one hand going up to the back of his neck and pulling him down once more to her. More fevered yet, their mouths moved together, tongues dancing with one another, and bodies beginning to move in the prelude of the ancient rhythm.

Hands leaving her buttocks, he slid his fingers up her sides until they reached her breasts, buoyant in the steaming water. Lifting both free of the surface, he bent and turned his attention to this part of her anatomy, his lips moving over the slick curves and rosy tips. She savored it for a long moment, then asked, "Are we going to bathe or make love?"

"Both." Spock tickled one taut nipple with his tongue then suckled it gently. Straightening, he gazed at her from beneath dark, heavy lashes, his arousal smouldering in the depths of his mahogany eyes. "Did you bring the soap?"

She laughed softly again and retrieved the hard grayish lump from atop a nearby rock. It was homemade soap, made from rendered fat and wood-ash lye, buffered with crushed herbs and flowers to tone down its smell and strength. It was crude and not very good soap, but the best formula she'd been able to concoct over the years. In any case, they had nothing else, short of scrubbing their skin with sand.

They rubbed the soap vigorously between their hands until they managed to build a lather, then washed each other as best they could, smoothing the suds over limbs and backs, helping reach difficult places, teasing over sensitive ones. Christine turned her back to Spock and lifted her hair up out of the way, nearly cooing as his big warm hands swept over her shoulders and down her spine. Then his arms came around her ribs and he cupped her breasts again, squeezing gently and pulling at her straining nipples until they rose even harder.

She leaned back against him with a sigh, then said, "Oh, darn, I dropped the soap."

"Never mind. Let it go." His mouth found the nape of her neck as he massaged her breasts and she could feel the hard shaft of his erection pressing between the cheeks of her buttocks.

Shivering, she turned in his arms and reached down to grasp the thick, pulsing rod, guiding it into the valley between her thighs. Without yet seeking entry, he moved his hips slowly back and forth, sliding his hot length against her, teasing her until she was gasping in response. "You're going to drive me mad like this!" she exclaimed.

"As you drive me mad during the Mating Time," he murmured back, his own breath beginning to come short.

"Oh, God, Spock, I need you! Now!"

The fire in her blood burned across the bondlink between them and Spock, aflame with their combined need, responded to her plea. His hands grasping her firmly beneath her buttocks, he lifted her and backed her against one of the boulders protruding from the water. As her arms went around his neck and her legs slid around his hips, he steadied her and unerringly found the opening he sought, then with one powerful thrust slammed himself home within her.

Christine gave a gasping cry and dug her nails into his flesh as he began to pump into her forcefully, his own arousal too great to control. Feeding upon each other's excitement, they built together toward climax, Spock's teeth clenched in fierce concentration, Christine's head thrown back and a sob of elation issuing from her throat with each impact of his pelvis against hers. His hips picked up their tempo and force and she felt him swell to rock-like hardness within her, then he missed a beat, slammed into her again, and with a deep groan he was there. Fire flooded into her depths, bringing a scream from her lips as his orgasm exploded within her, both physically and mentally, detonating a like convulsion of her own.

The lake bottom underneath their feet convulsed and the waters around them danced in agitation. Neither noticed, too engulfed in their mutual rapture. Only when Christine began to come down and breath again did she exclaim, "Spock! Look! The geysers are erupting!" That brought on a paroxysm of laughter. "Oh, lord, how Freudian can you get! All we need now are fireworks and cannons going off!"

"I will endeavor to achieve that for you then," he answered somewhat breathlessly. He was still hard within her, not yet sated, but he let her down and pulled out of her. The waters around them were hotter, bubbles rising up, as the flow from the geysers ran down to the lake in steaming rivulets. Christine was sweating from the heat and her skin beginning to turn red, although the heat felt good to him.

"Let's move up nearer shore," he suggested and they waded to where the water lapped onto the sandy beach. There they sank down into ankle-deep water, using its warmth to keep from being chilled by the night air but more comfortable than the depths where they had stood before. Christine prostrated herself atop him, straddling him without allowing penetration, and leaned to kiss him, resuming their love play. In response, he grasped her breasts in both hands and lifted his head to nuzzle and lick them, finally pulling one nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. The woman groaned, thrusting out her chest to give him better access, and he moved back and forth between the turgid nipples, nursing first one then the other.

Finally, Christine pulled away from him and bent to tease his own nipples with her tongue, biting gently, kissing, sucking, until the hard masculine nubs were swollen and taut. She went to trail her tongue down his stomach, but the fire within him was too great to allow much play. Grasping her shoulders suddenly, he rolled her onto her back, and in one smooth motion he was atop her, his hips spreading her legs wide apart.

"i'Aduni t'hy'la," he rumbled, his deep voice like thunder, wriggling himself into position between her thighs. "I burn for thee! My heart is flame! My eyes are flame!"

"I burn to feel thy flame," she whispered back, her fevered gaze locked into his, not quite sure if she spoke aloud or through their bond, in English or in Vulcan. Then her thoughts moved into pure, Human lust. "Oh, gods, fuck me, Spock! Fuck me 'til my teeth rattle!"

With an almost animal growl, he plunged into her again and all his innate civilization fell away. The primal ancestor that was a part of him took over and he became that barbaric warrior, taking his woman in the surrounds of the wild, as terrifying and untamed as the seething volcano looming above them. Below them the ground rolled again and again the two were too absorbed in their mating to notice. Instead, the barely harnessed fury of the earth fed the inferno inside them and the laboring man redoubled his thrusts, the pile driver force of his blows lifting her hips up with their power. The woman bucked beneath him, her head rolling from side to side in the agonizing ecstasy that threatened to overwhelm her, the unleashed Vulcan potency more than her Human strength could withstand.

He was lost in it now and abruptly came to his knees, hands gripping her buttocks, dragging her hips up with him so that they stayed firmly coupled. There, gaining more leverage, his thrusts resumed with even more force as his climax built to irresistible pressure. With a guttural, deep-throated howl, Spock slammed into her a final time and exploded with a gush of burning lava, pumping into her with a force she had seldom known. His orgasm blasted through her psyche with such force that blackness threatened to close in around her consciousness.

Then, without warning, the ground beneath them suddenly jolted in a terrifying wrench, slapping him forward onto her, knocking the breath from both their bodies.

For a second both lay stunned, then the lake waters went into a wild dance as the land undulated in a frantic jitter and a deep, subterranean rumble reverberated like the sustained blast of a monstrous cannonade. Within that second, the two were shaken back into the horrible reality of their situation.

"Jesus, God and Mary," whispered Christine, staring in terror over Spock's shoulder.

He didn't waste time on oaths. Scrambling to his feet, he jerked her up and practically flung her toward the shore. "Quick! Get dressed! Hurry!!"

It took them about three minutes to partially dry themselves, get their clothes on and grab their belongings, all the while listening to the volcano begin to tear itself apart, rocks crashing down its side, snapping full grown trees as they went, booming explosions as steam and gas began to rip their way up through cracks and vents, the hiss and scream of molten bombs being shot from the collapsing crater at the summit.

Then Spock and Christine were running with all their might toward their camp, hoping beyond hope that they would make it before the mountain exploded and wreaked its full fury on the surrounding countryside.

* * *

Sapel was frantic when his parents appeared out of the gloom, disheveled and with wet hair flying behind them. The boy was standing outside the door of the hogan, his little sister clinging to his leg and crying hysterically, as Spock and Christine panted to a stop.

"Mama! Papa! What's going on?!" the boy demanded, near tears himself.

Christine snatched her little daughter up and hugged her tight. Behind her, in the distance, the volcano emitted another fusillade and even in the darkness they could see the column of black ash and smoke roiling skyward.

"No time!" Spock answered. "Get the emergency packs! We've got to get away from here!"

Hurriedly backpacks were donned, weapons and sleeping skins were snatched up, and then the family was running as fast as they could up the slope behind their home. Christine looked back for a second and exclaimed, "Where are the cats?!"

"Gone," Sapel answered. "They took off when the earthquake hit!"

"We can't look for them," Spock stated, urging his wife and son on. "We must trust in their instinct to survive! Hurry!"

The ground shuddered beneath them, causing Christine to go down on one knee. She was carrying T'Jenn and nearly dropped the child, but Spock caught his wife's arm and pulled her back to her feet. They ran on into the night, through the forest whose trees swayed with each ground shock, raining sticks and any remaining leaves down on the fleeing group.

Then they were out of the trees and onto the open plains. Around them, terrified deer and elk, hares and tree-springers, tortoises and leapers, animals of every kind stampeded from the forest and to the safety of the prairies. The booming thunder from the volcano rolled over the night and above them the stars were being rapidly blotted out by the spreading ash cloud, now lit with streaks of forking purple lightning.

They were about two miles away when the shock wave from the greatest explosion of all knocked them to the ground. Spock scrambled to his knees and yelled, "That gully! Get in it and cover your heads!"

The four lurched/crawled forward and tumbled into the marginal shelter of a creek meandering across the prairie. It was no more than a few feet deep, but there was nothing else. Frantically, the parents shoved their children against the bank nearest the eruption, covering them with their bodies, and then pulled their sleeping furs over all of them, making sure their heads were well protected. Then they hung on for dear life.

It was not a moment too soon. The sound wave and debris cloud hit them almost simultaneously, blasting over them like a hurricane from the depths of hell. Hot ash rained on them as the earth bucked in cataclysm for a long moment, burying them in a gray blanket, and behind them the peak continued to thunder destruction as the lava plug in the volcano's crater disintegrated in the full-throated roar of an unleashed inferno.

The air was choking, but the thick animal hides offered some protection from the smothering atmosphere and heat. The debris cloud quickly passed and the quake settled into a constant trembling. After what seemed an eternity, Spock cautiously peeked from beneath the ash-laden bison hide. The movement caused the dusty covering of ash to fill the air and they had to wait a moment for it to settle once more.

The volcano was crowned by a column of fire shooting skyward, bright and hellish against the dark night, bombs and other pyrotechnics exploding from it like fireworks. The forest was on fire, too, ignited by the blast. The winter-dry timber and leaf cover on the woodland floor were proving excellent fuel and Spock could only thank the gods that they had made it through those woods before they burst into flame.

Overhead the sky was covered with the angry, boiling clouds of the still climbing volcanic plume, lit red-orange as it reflected the fury of the eruption and shot through with the blinding flashes of crawling lightning. Thankfully, the wind was out of the northeast and was blowing the bulk of the ash cloud away from them, but a fine sifting still fell like snow. But it was hot, searingly so in some cases. as live embers drifted down and, in the few places where the dry grass showed through the ash cover, it was beginning to smoulder and burn. Fortunately, there weren't many such places and the fires did not spread.

"We're still too close to it," Spock said as Christine and the children emerged. "We've got to get as far away as we can. If the wind changes and blows the ash cloud this way, we'll suffocate."

All four were coughing from the fine dust that covered everything and they lingered long enough to drench face masks in the little creek, tying them over their noses and mouths before starting out once more.

The journey through the night was nightmarish. Beneath their feet the ash was hot and many times seemed on the verge of burning through the thick bull-hide moccasins they wore. More than once Spock, Christine and Sapel sank ankle to knee-deep in the drifts. Only T'Jenn escaped this, riding on her mother's back. But worse still, every step stirred up a fog of the volcanic particles, making their eyes sting furiously, coating them all from head to toe in the powdery gray substance until the four resembled wraiths stumbling through the depths of Hades.

Around them, bewildered animals that had survived the blast now staggered blindly about, slowly choking to death as the asphyxiating ash filled their lungs. The people sent sympathetic gazes their way, but there was nothing they could do. To stop and put the animals out of their misery was time they could not afford to lose. Every step farther away from the thundering volcano might be the one that insured their own survival.

It was dawn, its peach-colored light barely staining the heavy shelf of volcanic clouds, before Spock called a halt to rest. They had walked over ten miles and were beginning to come out of the ashfall area. At least patches of grass were beginning to appear in the lee of the hills. There was still a light covering of gray dust, but nothing like what they had trudged through all night.

He pulled his mask down to his chin and took a cautious breath of air. Surprisingly, it was sharp and clean and cold, the brisk north wind bringing with it a bite that wrenched his thoughts back to the rest of the world at hand. Was it only yesterday that they had been happily and snugly ensconced in the little round hogan on the lake shore, waiting for the first winter storm to strike? It seemed weeks ago and the heat of the volcanic ash had turned their minds more toward surviving that than anything else.

Now Christine shed her mask as well and turned her face into the chill wind that gusted over them, stripping off their powdery covering into a trailing halo, whipping their plastered hair into clumps. She saw now that the dawn clouds in the east were different from the plume of the volcano, still rumbling away to their west. These were lighter gray, low and frosty looking, heavy with moisture and ice, and the wind brought with it a crispness that was all too familiar.

"I'm cold, Mama," Sapel said wearily, leaning against his mother's leg.

On Christine's back, Jenny whimpered, "Hun'gy!" She began to cry fitfully.

Spock and Christine exchanged miserable looks as they surveyed their situation. Here in the midst of the open plains, there was no shelter, no trees, nothing save low rolling hills with parched grass laid flat by the wet, rising wind. They had no food or water except what had been stowed in their packs and only the heavy sleeping furs for warmth. Behind them lay fire and destruction. Ahead was only desolation and endless miles of empty prairie.

With desperation and hopelessness, Spock and Christine clutched their children against them and watched in despair as it began to snow.

END OF PART NINE