How We Are (but not how we're going to be) Part 1
Title: How We Are (But Not How We’re Going To Be) [part one]
Artist: insideapollo
Mixer: jazzy_peaches
Series: Reboot, AOS, XI
Characters/Pairings: Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Uhura, Miranda Jones, an abundance of OCs; Kirk/Spock Warnings: an abundance of minor TOS characters and (mostly alien) OCs. Also major douche-y-ness from everyone for a while, but then bam! rom-com. Beware.
Rating: R
Word Count: ~35k
Summary: Even when they hate each other, they're still sort of falling in love.
General Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related people, places, things, and possibly ideas are the property of Gene Roddenberry, CBS, Paramount, possibly JJ Abrhams and just generally tons of people who aren't me. No money is being made off of this fan-work and no copyright infringement is intended.
Link to Art: This is how we are (but not how we're going to be)
Link to Mix: Judging From Picture Books
Masterpost
[Part One]
Even after direct contact with the human species for five point eight two years, Spock finds that he still does not understand them as well as he perhaps should. He understands individual human beings, of course-Ensign Chekov, for example, is boisterous and eager to learn. Spock has spent more than one evening with him in the Science labs aboard Enterprise discussing telemetry and the feasibility of quantum hyperinflation in a controlled environment. Doctor Simon Tam from medical and Lieutenant Mira Romaine from the science department are even-tempered and very logical, and Spock has no trouble communicating effectively with either of them. Nyota-has of late become more difficult to understand, but that does not stop Spock from attempting communication with her or even enjoying her company.
Neither does he have any particular qualms with any of the Andorian crew, nor the Orion, Denebian, nor Stryptilian complement of the ship. Perhaps, if Spock may be so bold as to extrapolate, it is only one particular human being who continues to baffle him, and the consistency with which they interact has made Spock biased. He must meditate on this possibility at the next available juncture, and so Spock files the information away for Gamma shift.
Of course, Spock is referring to Captain Kirk. In fact, he is willing to admit to a potential problem in their working relationship approximately sixty eight days into their five-year mission. He is, unfortunately, unable to give himself a more accurate approximation, as he is still unsure his belief has any basis in fact.
(Spock imagines that his mother would say he is “over thinking things,” but she is dead and he cannot hope to know what she would say in such circumstances, so such a thought is neither necessary nor wanted.)
The friction between Captain Kirk and himself continues to baffle him, however, because he had believed their working relationship to be quite complementary after their success with Nero.
“It’s because the whole crisis with Nero was, well, a crisis,” Nyota explains to him one afternoon in the middle of the Mess Hall. Spock is scheduled to work Beta Shift today, and so is enjoying an early breakfast while Nyota-who was working Alpha-has a late lunch. “People work differently under a lot of stress. There was this girl in my Intro to Battle Tactics class at the Academy; her name was Tel-ak’hmes. She was brilliant in her field of study but had really bad test anxiety. She would put so much stress on herself the week preceding an exam that she completely blanked on test day.”
“What was her field of study?”
Nyota breathes out heavily in what could be interpreted as a sigh. She sets her fork down and studies him carefully.
“History of Denebian culture,” she says slowly. “But it’s not relevant to the point I’m trying to make, Spock.” Perhaps expecting a response from Spock that he does not give, she pauses for a moment before continuing. “There are individuals who perform better under duress, and others who don’t. Either way, events that carry a lot of stress can bring out characteristics that the individual wouldn’t normally exhibit. Most of the class thought Tel-ak’hmes wasn’t very smart, because she was always stressing over her test-performance, but she was one of the smartest people in there.”
She takes a slow sip of her glass of water, her eyes trained on Spock. For his part, Spock is not entirely certain how he should respond. He can understand Nyota’s reasoning; however, he does not know if he agrees with her conclusion. In fact, he protests quite strongly the implication that the captain is only capable of expressing the abilities he’d exhibited on the Narada during crises.
In Spock’s opinion, further evidence is required before such a blanket statement can be given. He wants to tell Nyota that her logic is not sound and that perhaps her biases towards the captain are clouding her reasoning skills.
Instead, he says, “Thank you, Nyota, for your input.”
She smiles at him then, the first time since he had asked for her opinion on the matter. Spock thinks that perhaps he is beginning to understand why tact is so important when communicating.
“I have to get back to the bridge,” she says. She stands and hesitates for a moment before speaking again. “Will you walk with me?”
“I have an appointment with the Science Department heads in four point six minutes,” is Spock’s response. He cannot help but notice that the smile previously gracing Nyota’s delicate features is now gone.
“Of course,” she replies. “I guess I’ll see you some other time, then.”
“Undoubtedly,” Spock answers.
He does not watch her depart. Instead, he finishes up his bowl of fruit and proceeds to the Science Department.
His meeting with the ten heads of the Science Department is short. After only two months on the Enterprise and less than half a dozen exploratory missions logged, it is no surprise that there is little mission-related business to discuss. He approves several independent research projects and dismisses his subordinates fifty eight minutes later.
With fifteen minutes until his shift officially begins, Spock enters the bridge. Alpha shift is already very near over, but the nature of Spock’s schedule has him working at odd times. It is true that his circadian rhythms long ago adapted to that of a typical human diurnal schedule, because of the length of time he spent at the Academy, but lately Spock has gone out of his way to reacquaint his body with the old Vulcan day. It was tedious to force his body to adapt to a schedule that is not implemented aboard the starship. It is also more work for the quarter-master, with whom Spock has spoken with and agreed to help plan his schedule accordingly.
It is, quite unabashedly, illogical for Spock to work four hours per shift, every shift, every day. However, upon first waking, Spock thinks of Vulcan, and when he enters the mess hall it is quite empty-as most of Enterprise’s crew is either in the middle of shift or very much asleep, and so he thinks of Vulcan then. When he walks onto the bridge or science labs, and his subordinates turn to him, Spock rather hopes they also, will think of Vulcan. And in this manner, illogical behavior such as Spock’s is quite justifiable.
Someone appears to have recently said or done something humorous as Spock crosses to his station, for laughter still hangs in the air around them. The atmosphere on the bridge is relaxed and amicable when Lieutenant Gabrielle Laura stands, already familiar with his routine. She nods in acknowledgment and prepares to exit the bridge.
“I relieve you of your duties as acting Science Officer, Lieutenant,” he says before she reaches the elevator.
The lieutenant whips around and salutes him, blushing faintly.
“I am relieved, sir,” she says quickly, perhaps having forgotten simple Starfleet procedure.
“Spock, you don’t have to go through that every time you report for duty,” the captain says when the lieutenant has disappeared, swiveling in his chair to face him.
He is smiling good-naturedly, as is much of the bridge crew. Ensign Chekov and Lieutenant Sulu share a look over the helm before turning to study him.
“It is standard procedure,” Spock responds neutrally.
“I know that,” is the captain’s amiable response, “But it’s cumbersome and antiquated, too. Would it kill you to be a little more lax, Spock?”
“If you believe certain Starfleet regulations to be obsolete, sir, then I suggest you send a formal petition to Starfleet Headquarters.”
The atmosphere on the bridge changes abruptly. The captain is no longer smiling; rather, there hurt flashes across his face before it is replaced by the faint shadow of a frown. His relaxed posture straightens out abruptly, the sound of his feet hitting the floor is inordinately loud in the ensuing silence.
“Of course, Commander,” he says. Something about his mood has shifted, as the relaxed atmosphere around the bridge has tensed minutely. “Thank you for clearing that up for me.”
Clearly the captain has taken offense where none was intended. Spock is unsure if he should apologize for whatever he may have said to cause such a negative reaction in the captain.
“Thanks are unnecessary,” Spock tries.
“Right, obviously,” Captain Kirk says, and even Spock can detect the sarcasm in his voice.
At that moment, Alpha shift officially ends, and the flood of Beta shift crew effectively cuts the conversation short. Kirk swivels back around to face the viewscreen and does not say a word as Beta shift begins.
It is obvious that the bridge crew feels the lingering tension between Kirk and himself; the only conversation on the bridge is stifled and somber. Captain Kirk waits only long enough for every member of the Beta shift crew to become situated before he stands.
“You have the bridge, Commander,” he says, and while the comment is directed at Spock, he keeps his gaze firmly locked on the viewscreen.
“Acknowledged, Captain,” Spock says.
He notices that even after the captain has gone, the tension does not ease out of the crew for another one point seven hours.
***
Catulla is a planet skirting dangerously close to the Neutral Zone. The Federation achieved first contact with it nine point seven years previous, but its planetary government has a history of paranoia and neutrality, which has proven cumbersome to certain Starfleet admirals. A formal treaty with has been stalled no less than four times in the intervening years. The most recent of which-two point two years ago-was postponed after a scandal with a Catullan Ambassador’s son.
Recently, however, the Federation has been able to reopen negotiations with Catulla, as its people have been growing increasingly restless over the possibility of Klingon invasion. A series of diplomatic summits has been called on the planet, and as a show of good faith, Enterprise has been ordered to the planet to witness the negotiations and-as Admiral Pike had told them over transmission-“generally act important.”
To Spock it does not seem the most logical course of action, to send a starship fitted for battle to a skittish, paranoid planet. Unfortunately he cannot comfortably speak with the captain of his misgivings; their working relationship as it stands is lukewarm at best. He is uncomfortable with lodging a formal protest against the mission. Instead, he merely makes a note to himself in his personal log and reports to the transporter room at the scheduled time.
The captain is already present; he is leaning against the console, flexing and un-flexing his hands as he speaks with the other members of the landing party. For once Spock had been in agreement with Kirk on the members of their landing party. Lieutenant Commander Ailough Tor-an Orion male-is head of Enterprise’s Department of Xenocultural Relations. He and Nyota will serve as suitable replacements for formal diplomats. Two security personnel are on the far side of the transporter room, inspecting a pair of phasers before strapping them onto their respective holsters.
Kirk looks up at that moment; he smiles hopefully in Spock's direction before a muscle in his jaw twitches and he stands straight up.
“Ready, Commander?”
Spock inclines his head once in acknowledgment.
“All that remains is confirmation from the Catullan government that we are clear to beam down,” Spock says. “For a planet with a history of semi-isolationism, Catulla’s transporter protocol is remarkably similar to that of a typical penal colony.”
Spock finds it quite fascinating that such a coincidence should occur, and is in fact calculating the odds of such an occurrence when the captain replies.
“Don’t tell those diplomats down there that little bit of trivia,” he says, that muscle in his jaw still twitching. “I doubt politicians will want to hear they run their planet like a prison.”
The transporter room goes suspiciously silent after that proclamation. Spock raises an eyebrow and attempts to curtail the sudden frustration that builds up within him. Of course he did not mean his remark to be offensive, nor did he intend to repeat the statement to anyone on the planet’s surface.
“Of course, Captain,” Spock answers because he does not wish to have an argument before this mission.
At that moment, the transporter console beeps, indicating that Catulla has cleared them for beam-down. Kirk stares at Spock for another three point nine seconds, as if he cannot quite believe Spock has no more to say on the matter, before turning and jumping onto the platform.
“Get up here everyone,” he says sharply. Spock notes that the rest of the away team is twelve percent more hasty to obey his orders than usual. “Try not to cause a diplomatic incident.”
Spock ascends the steps to the transporter platform placidly and takes his place by the captain’s side. Kirk does not look his way as he says, “Energize.”
The Catullan High Governor, one Yssiri Cos, is not present when the away team beams onto the planet's surface. Instead they are greeted by a diplomatic envoy flanked by security personnel. As a standard procedure, newcomers to Catulla are subjected to a cursory security sweep. It is no different for Enterprise's crew. The Catullan security force does eye Lieutenants Barry Giotto’s and Angela Martine’s phasers somewhat suspiciously, but eventually they are allowed to pass into the Council Chamber, where the diplomatic summit will be taking place.
They all file into the room in two neat rows, where they are greeted with their first sight of the Council Chamber. It has a low, reinforced ceiling. The building itself is below ground, and its doors are a dense, heavy metal alloy, with a complex series of locks along the circular frame. The main door stands ajar now-perhaps as a show of good-faith to the Federation-but it is obvious that it is not usually kept so. Spock assumes that should the need arise, the room can also double as a fallout shelter. Still, it is brightly lit, and already several diplomats and admirals are mingling with various Catullan government officials.
Spock notes Admiral Komack's rigid silhouette on the other side of the chamber; he is speaking to a Catullan female who seems only mildly interested in what he is recounting. On the opposite end of the chamber, Admiral Pike stands, the only evidence of his ordeal on the Narada the cane he leans against heavily. He is chatting with two rigid Catullan males, both of whom have their hands tucked behind their backs. The away team disperses at the Captain's command, and Spock watches as they all wander into the crowd.
Particularly, Spock watches Captain Kirk as he winds his way through the crowd seemingly without purpose. It is not that Spock does not trust Kirk-he would not have asked for the position of First Officer had that been the case-but sometimes Spock finds he cannot quite tear his eyes away from the captain. It has lately become a habit, and when Kirk turns to scan the room once more and locks eyes with Spock, the hopeful smile he sends Spock's way too is quite familiar, as is the scowl that replaces it moments later. He is, however, too far away to hear Kirk's remark, so he does not feel entirely guilty for turning and resolutely crossing to a different area of the room.
That is, of course, when his father sees him. Spock’s relationship with Sarek has always been strained, and while the passing of his mother forced the two of them to communicate, it has done little to heal the yawning void that figuratively separates them. There is no way for Spock to excuse himself without appearing rude, and so he walks over to where Sarek is holding court with three dignitaries, Captain Stone from Enterprise's sister ship, USS Defiant, and two members of the Catullan's Governing Council.
"Spock," he says when Spock comes to a halt beside the group. "It is pleasing to see you again."
"Peace and long life, Father," Spock says formally to the casual greeting. "I hope you are in good health."
"I am," Sarek responds. Here, he turns to the group surrounding them. "This is Commander Spock of Vulcan, currently First Officer on board the United Starship Enterprise. He is also my son."
The others nod in acknowledgment of his rank.
At that moment, the High Governor chooses to enter the chamber. His entrance is preceded by a full security escort, which he dismisses with a casual wave of his arm. His hair is lavender and shining in youth, and is done up in tight ringlets in the style of his people. There is nothing particular about his dress to differentiate him from the other members of the Governing Council. Spock thinks this is perhaps another tradition that comes from a long history of paranoia. If a would-be assassin cannot tell members of the Governing Council apart, it would be much harder to pick out the High Governor. He steps up onto the ceremonial speaking platform and a hush almost immediately falls over the room.
“Honored guests,” Governor Yssiri says, smiling broadly. “It is in good trust that we welcome you today. Be welcomed into our fold, for tomorrow our negotiations begin.”
There is a smattering of polite applause at that before the governor steps down from the platform. Spock sees Kirk standing by the landing, waiting to greet him. For a second they lock eyes again, and Spock receives the distinct impression that he is missing some human social cue.
“Excuse me, Father,” Spock says idly, already departing from the small sphere of influence his father holds and weaving through the crowd to reach Kirk and the High Governor.
However, on Spock’s journey he is waylaid by Admiral Pike, Commander Tor and Nyota, all of whom introduce him to various dignitaries and Catullan politicians-they also force him to recite various illogical forms of pleasantries. It is therefore twenty-six minutes and fourteen seconds before Spock is able to reach Kirk and Governor Yssiri.
It would not be logical for Spock to lie to himself, and so he cannot honestly say he was not apprehensive of leaving Kirk alone with the Catullan High Governor. However, when Spock reaches the two of them, he finds Governor Yssiri in the midst of a booming laugh, clearly pleased with something. Kirk too is smiling widely, holding a glass of Catullan wine to his lips in an attempt to conceal his mirth. When he sees Spock, some of the joy flickers out of Kirk's gaze, but he maintains a somewhat forced smile while the governor composes himself. Spock clasps his hands behind his back and waits.
"Your Excellency Yssiri," Kirk begins, having practiced the standard Catullan greetings beforehand. "I entrust to you the knowledge of my Executive Officer. He is Commander Spock."
"Commander Spock," Yssiri repeats, taking a drink from his own ceremonial glass. "Your Captain is a remarkable specimen of humanity. Are all humans as eloquent as he?"
"It is true Captain Kirk is a singular human," Spock agrees slowly, suddenly very conscious of the way Kirk is staring at him.
"Your Excellency," Kirk starts, the smile dropping from his face. "I think-"
"I entrust my informal name to you, Captain Kirk," Yssiri says then. "It is Cos."
Kirk does not say anything for a moment. It is indeed a great show of faith from the High Governor, that he would supply Kirk with his informal name.
"Your trust is great to me," Kirk says awkwardly. "You may call me Jim."
Governor Yssiri laughs again and takes another deep drink from his glass. He waves his hand once in obvious dismissal.
"Go confer with your Executive Officer, Jim," he says amiably. "He looks to have issues to discuss with you."
Kirk nods to him and watches the Catullan make his way through the crowd. Immediately two members of the Governing Council flank him. Some minutes later, Kirk and Spock are approached by two servants who offer to lead them to their quarters for the duration of the mission. Spock is content to continue on in silence, mentally composing his schedule for tomorrow, until they come to a halt and it becomes obvious that Kirk and Spock are to be sharing sleeping quarters for the duration of the mission.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Kirk says, letting the formal composure he had kept up to that moment slip. “Is there a particular reason why we can’t have separate sleeping areas?”
The servants share a look that even Spock can interpret as apprehensive.
“Are your accommodations not to your liking?” one of them asks.
“It’s not that,” Kirk placates. His gaze flickers between the two servants, to Spock and away, the tips of his rounded ears flushing lightly. “My First Officer is Vulcan. Vulcans value their privacy.”
“Privacy,” the other servant repeats. “Do officers frequently keep secrets from their commanding officers?”
Kirk does not answer immediately. No doubt he is seriously considering the implication of the servant’s question. There is obviously a gap in Starfleet’s knowledge, as the question itself implies a large amount of trust between two commanding officers. Spock thinks that it may be a grave error to fail to answer this question to the Catullan’s satisfaction.
“These quarters will suffice,” Spock says then. “We are humbled by your hospitality. Please inform the High Governor of our satisfaction.”
The two Catullans bow momentarily and depart. Kirk and Spock are left staring into the large living area, which thankfully has two separate sleeping alcoves.
“Well thank fuck for small miracles,” Kirk says, mostly to himself.
Spock chooses to ignore the statement and instead enters their rooms. Spock knows they should be discussing the impending negotiations or at the very least what Kirk has discovered about Yssiri, but he finds himself reluctant to open up a dialogue with the captain at this juncture. Kirk is pacing around the room, restless, and Spock knows from previous experience that when Kirk behaves in such a manner he is not entirely receptive to Spock’s attempts at communication. Instead, Spock busies himself with reading through a copy of the peace treaty.
They pass the rest of the night in silence.
“I was thinking we could go check up on High Governor Yssiri,” Kirk says the next morning over their meal. “He made it a point to tell me last night how much he wanted to show us around.”
They are in a makeshift mess hall, with two rows of long tables set up as a temporary repast area. Kirk and Spock arrived this morning early, and so they are relatively alone at this juncture. Spock estimates that Nyota, Tor and the rest of their landing party will arrive momentarily.
“It is not necessarily required for us to remain inseparable throughout the course of our stay,” Spock answers, taking a slow drink from his glass of water.
“Why not?” is Kirk’s response. “They like it here when we show solidarity and stuff. You know Yssiri founded the Catullan Independent Research Association before he’d been elected High Governor?”
“Clearly, he is an intelligent and ambitious being.”
“Yeah,” Kirk says, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. “I think you two would have a lot to talk about.”
Spock does not know how to reply to such a comment, and so for the moment he remains silent.
“The High Governor seemed particularly taken with you last night,” Spock says into the silence some time later. The captain merely shrugs. “It is curious, considering the culture’s natural propensity towards mistrust.”
“I’m just naturally charming, Spock,” Kirk says in a way that Spock believes is supposed to be ‘teasing.’
“Of course, Captain,” Spock says. “I will remind you, of course, that said ‘natural charm,’ namely your sexual proclivity towards seduction and promiscuity, may be construed as threatening to certain species.”
“My sexual proclivity towards promiscuity,” he repeats. The captain lets out a short breath, blinks very quickly for a moment, and then assiduously looks away, choosing instead to study the contents of his plate. “Okay,” he says quietly. “First, you don’t get to call me a slut in public. You just. You can’t do that.”
“I did no such thing. I merely-”
“Okay, you don’t get to calmly insinuate that I’m some kind of whore in the middle of a fucking diplomatic mission.”
“I only wished to ascertain-”
“Just go,” Kirk says then. Spock finds his gaze wandering away from the blue eyes that will not look at him. Instead, he studies Kirk’s hands, the right closed tightly around his eating utensil, the left resting lightly against his forearm. “Do whatever you want. Just go.”
Spock for a moment considers telling the Captain that he is being needlessly defensive, as Spock does not believe Kirk’s promiscuity to be detrimental to his command. Except, perhaps he did, as on reflection Spock’s statement does carry a shockingly obvious negative implication. He wishes to apologize then, for speaking inappropriately, but Kirk is not looking at him. For a moment, he appears completely still, poised for fight or flight. At any rate, Spock recognizes an order when he hears one. He departs.
It is curious to Spock-no, that statement is incorrect. In the face of emotionalism, truth must always prevail, and so Spock forces himself to understand the truth. It is frustrating to Spock that 89 percent of his interactions with Captain Kirk end in much the same manner, namely with Spock either offended or the one to give offense. He is troubled by this recurring pattern, as at the moment he cannot find any particular reason for their interactions to conclude like this.
He is beginning to assume that perhaps he has no natural compatibility with the captain, and that none might ever form, despite the attitude of a certain older, alternate universe counterpart of himself. It is not a pleasant thought.
As it happens, Spock is participating in what a number of species would call “pacing” or alternately, “venting,” and as such is not entirely aware of his surroundings as he moves. Within the confines of his mind, he acknowledges that focusing on his frustrations is quite illogical. Were he not on duty, he would retire to his quarters for meditation.
Indeed, he is contemplating retiring to his quarters despite being on duty when he unexpectedly encounters a member of the Catullan Governing Council. Her hair is a dark purple and swept up in a high, severe arrangement. She nods her politely when she sees him, and Spock returns the gesture, taking a moment to recall her name from the files he reviewed last night.
Her name is La Turenga. She, along with three other members of the Governing Council, forms the conservative block that is currently advocating neutrality and therefore opposes the Federation’s presence.
“You are Commander Spock,” she says after a brief pause.
“Yes,” Spock acknowledges.
Governor La nods again.
“Ambassador Sarek has spoken highly of you.”
“You have spoken with my father?”
It is a redundant and very illogical question to ask, as she obviously has spoken with Sarek. However, Spock thinks that since perhaps the start of this assignment he has not been behaving quite logically. Moreover, Spock has never claimed to behave logically concerning matters related to Sarek (it took the end of their world for Sarek to bridge his stony silence, and even then Spock wonders if it is only for Mother’s memory that Sarek speaks with him at all).
“Yes,” La answers, seemingly unaware of Spock’s distraction. “He is a trustworthy alien, it would seem. The High Governor himself has taken to him, as well as your captain.”
“I noticed, yes,” Spock says.
Spock was not the only one to notice, then, the way Yssiri appraised Captain Kirk. He thinks back to the hurt that flashed across Kirk’s face and believes that despite this, he may still have been wrong to speak so brazenly to his captain.
“Will he attend the Reading of the Treaty this morning?”
As with all formal documents proposed on Catulla, the proposed treaty will be read in their entirety before the negotiations begin. The ceremony is projected to last from three to five hours and has been deemed optional to both Enterprise’s and Defiant’s away teams.
“The captain, of course, is free to do as he wishes,” Spock says slowly, aware that his answer here is important but not sure why. At any rate, they did not speak of it previously, so Spock does not precisely know the captain’s intentions. “High Governor Yssiri expressed a desire to act as ‘tour guide’ to Captain Kirk should he wish to know more of Catullan culture.”
Governor La is silent at that. They begin walking, a slow, meandering pace that La sets. The corners of her thinly-shaped eyebrows droop slightly in a way that suggests deep contemplation in her species.
“The High Governor is without djit-hiru,” she says at length. The Universal Translator struggles over her final word. “I would take care, Commander.”
“I do not believe I understand your meaning,” Spock replies when the Universal Translator fails to supply him with even a list of possible meanings for her word. “What is djit-hiru?”
“To have djit-hiru is to have those who share with you all.” She stops for a moment, both in speech and movement before continuing. “It is the most basic form of trust on Catulla.”
At that moment, the Universal Translator hums softly in his ear and spits out life-bond/family-love as possible translations. Spock raises his eyebrow and clasps his hands behind his back.
“I see,” Spock states. “In which case I still do not understand. Again, Captain Kirk is free to do as he wishes. While I do not believe that any proposed overtures made to him will be accepted, it is ultimately not my concern.”
His statement seems to have a not together exiguous affect on Governor La. Indeed, it seems to have affronted her. She begins to blink very rapidly, and the fine, gill-like slits along her neck flare open in either aggression or fear.
“You and your captain are not, then, djit-hiru?” she asks quickly.
“If I understand your meaning, no, we are not.”
“Oh,” she replies, running her wrist along her gills reflexively. “But surely, between your crew, you are all djitae-hiras?”
Here the Universal Translator is quicker in inferring her meaning. It supplies Spock with family-love/commune/home, specific enough for Spock to understand what she means.
“I do not believe so.” He pauses here, aware of how truthful he is being, thinking back to countless moments he has spent eating alone or with only the company of Nyota. No, Enterprise is not his home. But then there are conversations he has with the exceptionally intelligent members of the crew, the way they smile fondly to him when off-duty in a way Spock never can. He thinks that someday it could be. “Is this different on Catulla?”
“Captain and Commander are always joined,” La says. “It is law. To not have djit-hiru, even djitae-hiras is-suspicious.”
“I see.”
He thinks that this, perhaps, could be a troubling turn of events.
“If you will excuse me, Commander, I believe I will continue on alone.”
She disappears down the corridor, her pale gray robes swishing around the corner.
For six point seven seconds, Spock remains still, his eyes not wavering from the bend in the corridor. Then, he blinks, turns on his heel and begins a search for Kirk.
He searches for the captain for fifty four point seven minutes and across all six landings of the underground building. Spock finds him, as it happens, on the topmost level of the underground Governing Fortress. It is a high-ceilinged, somewhat empty atrium, with a large fountain as the only decoration in the center of the room. The topmost row of windows allow for faint slivers of silver light to spill in from the surface, and in one of those beams stands Kirk, talking quietly with Governor Yssiri.
“Captain,” Spock calls from across the room, his voice echoing along the walls of the atrium.
Kirk’s head snaps up, but Spock is too far away to interpret his facial expressions. He appears to speak with Yssiri again, who releases his hold on the captain’s upper arm. In six quick strides he is before Spock; inexplicably, he is smiling.
“Thank fuck you showed up,” he says quietly through his smile. “You were right about Yssiri, by the way. So whatever, don’t rub it in.”
“Captain, I must speak with you. Alone,” he adds, his gaze flicking over to Yssiri, who is watching them intently.
“Awesome,” Kirk says, and Spock cannot tell if he means it sincerely or ironically. “Let’s head back to our rooms.”
The tops of Kirk’s rounded ears flush lightly as he pushes past Spock into the stairwell behind him. It is now 1107 hours on Catulla. The Reading of the Treaty would have started at approximately 1030 hours. Spock regrets that he cannot be present at the reading, as he had made arrangements with Nyota to attend.
“So what is it, Commander?” Kirk asks when they are once again within the privacy of their temporary living quarters.
Spock considers the best way to phrase his quandary.
“I believe I inadvertently offended the leader of the opposition block,” he decides. “She referred to the workings of Enterprise as ‘suspicious,’ a word with numerous negative connotations attached to it.”
“So you’re not perfect.”
“My ego is not so inflated that I believed myself to be so, Captain,” Spock answers stiffly.
Kirk shakes his head at that, frowning suddenly.
“No, that’s not what-”
“The governor,” Spock continues, unwilling to be baited into an argument at this juncture, “expressed curiosity on the nature of our working relationship. She expressed some concern over the fact that we are not djit-hiru.”
“Did you figure out what that word meant?” Kirk asks, running a hand through the back of his hair. “I ran into it today too. I think trying to figure it out froze up my UT, because for a minute there I had no clue what Yssiri was saying.”
“I am still not entirely sure,” Spock admits. “From speaking with Governor La, it appears to be a figurative bond, formed by family members, friends or lovers of some kind.”
“Yeah, that’s what I had guessed,” Kirk says. Then-“Wait, you told her that we weren’t?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Here, Kirk purses his lips, runs his pointer and middle finger across the line of his jaw. The action is very close to obscene for a Vulcan, and so Spock averts his gaze. “I kind of told Yssiri that we were. Because, you know. We work together, and I thought it just meant friendship or something.”
“Captain, I am Vulcan,” Spock says, crossing to the other end of the room to inspect one of the paintings on the wall. “We do not have friends.”
The statement is not entirely true, as Nyota can perhaps be considered as such by some. But the type of friendship that Spock believes is implied by this new phrase-no, that Spock does not have. The captain does not respond to that immediately. In fact, so much time elapses that Spock does turn to look at him, believing for a moment that he may have inexplicably departed. Instead, Kirk is looking down at the ground, left hand trembling slightly, as if he is resisting the urge to clench it into a fist.
“Oh,” he says again, swallows before continuing. “Of course, Commander. How stupid of me.”
They are in the process of exploring multiple options for how to best deal with their possible situation when a call comes to the communication system in the living area of their temporary quarters. Kirk-who has been pacing for the past sixteen point seven minutes-scowls at the device before marching towards it.
"Kirk here."
"Kirk, I want to know what you two said to those Catullan Ambassadors that has them complaining about mistrust and distrust in the Federation."
It is Admiral Pike's voice, Spock recognizes. He crosses the space of the room to stand behind Kirk, so he is visible to Pike, before clasping his hands behind his back.
"A certain Catullan governor expressed her suspicions of me regarding the captain and my lack of djit-hiru," Spock replies, not missing the way Kirk flinches ever so slightly at Spock's words.
"Jit-hero?" Pike says in a remarkably abysmal attempt at the language.
"It's a complex word that means something like a--" here Kirk stops, swallows-- "a bond between two or more people."
"Like marriage or something?"
"Not necessarily," Spock interrupts. "Although it is my theory that the human concept of marriage is somewhat similar to one particular aspect of the djit-hiru. More generally it refers to a close personal relationship between those you work, live or commune with. None of which I have, and so responded accordingly."
Pike breathes deeply for a moment, Spock inspects the unobtrusive blue wall behind Pike's seat in the interim.
"So they don't trust us anymore because you don't have friends aboard the Enterprise?"
"Uh," Kirk says then, angling his head towards Spock but never breaking eye-contact with Pike. He wonders for a second if Kirk had wished to turn to Spock for guidance of some sort, but at the last moment dissuaded himself. "Not really. That would probably have happened when I kind of told them incongruous info. Sir."
"'Incongruous info'," Pike repeats. "Do I want to know this?"
"When posed with the question, the Captain told High Governor Yssiri that we were, in fact djit-hiru," Spock says.
"The UT didn't know how to translate it!" Kirk defends quickly. "I had to practically guess what it meant, and I guess I guessed wrong."
Pike is silent for a long moment after Kirk's statement (seven point five seconds). Finally, some semblance of a smile lifts up one side of his mouth.
"You were overdue for one, I'd wager. A wrong guess," Pike says then. He sighs, rubs at one of his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Okay. I think this is fixable. I just need you guys off this planet, yesterday."
"A physical impossibility, as there is no proven way to--"
"Yes sir," Kirk interrupts, his mouth set in a firm line. Spock quells his irritation at being interrupted, instead raising an eyebrow.
"Call in your away team before they get cornered and accidentally make the matter worse," Pike says. "Pike out."
Spock blinks then, his mind for a moment grinding to a complete halt. Neither he nor Captain Kirk had thought of such a possibility, but if indeed members of the crew were forced to give their opinions on the matter, any disparate answers would be considered proof of their deceptiveness. Spock cannot believe such a thought had not occurred to him. It is a natural progression of intuitive logic. He recalls the argument exchanged between the captain and himself before Pike's transmission, surely the only logical culprit to Spock's slip in logic. It is unbearable that something as mundane as his working relationship with a superior officer can inhibit Spock's performance. Action must be taken, and soon.
"-Commander?" Kirk says from the other side of the room. Spock blinks again, aware suddenly that three minutes have elapsed. Kirk has his communicator in his hand and is repacking the clothes he brought along to the surface. "Uhura, Tor, Giotto and Martine have just beamed up. You ready?"
Spock's belongings are already packed, as he is not in the habit of leaving things in disarray. Even his garments from the previous day and his sleeping clothes had been neatly packed back into his bag before he departed for the morning meal.
"Yes, sir," Spock says. "I am ready."
They rematerialize on the ship to the away team gathered in a loose semicircle around the transporter pad. The transporter technician is concentrating very hard on something on the console; she hardly looks up when Kirk jumps off the platform.
"Get back to your stations," Kirk says quickly.
"Captain, what happened--"
"Is there something wrong?"
"I said," Kirk starts, his voice quiet and firm, not like Spock has ever heard before. Spock thinks, this is what a great captain sounds like. "I ordered you back to your stations."
After that, the away team moves around the transporter room efficiently, pulling off their phasers and making for the exit as quickly as they are able.
"You will all attend the debriefing tomorrow at 0800," Kirk says. "Hopefully your questions will be answered then."
"I believe I can have the debrief ready by 1500 hours today," Spock replies, his voice loud enough to carry. Nyota turns to him from the exit, her eyes wide. She purses her lips, clearly trying to communicate something non-verbally to Spock. "If you would prefer, Captain, in the name of expediency, to call the debriefing at such a time."
Kirk is facing away from him at this moment, so Spock cannot search his facial expressions for clues to his human emotions, but he does come to a stop at Spock's words. He does flex his hands once, twice, before he speaks again.
"That would be awesome," he says, in a voice that suggests the opposite is true. "Thank you, Commander."
"Thanks are unnecessary."
"Yeah, you've mentioned that before."
And with that, he departs, Nyota and Giotto moving out of his way as he hurries out. Spock is tempted to refer to his movement as "storming away," however that descriptor is very illogical, never mind that Spock has likened Kirk to a storm in his mind on more than one occasion. For two point seven seconds, those remaining in the transporter room are motionless. Then, Martine lets out a long breath and follows Kirk out. After that, the others file out.
The transporter technician huffs out a laugh to the almost empty room.
"Do you find something particularly humorous, Ensign?" Spock asks sharply.
"No sir," she is quick to respond. "Sorry sir."
When Spock arrives on the bridge, it is almost unnaturally silent. The ship is already in motion, the stars streaking across the viewscreen merely elongated flashes of light. They remind Spock, suddenly, of sitting out in the desert before his home on Shi’kahr with Mother as she pointed out the asteroids that would frequently penetrate Vulcan’s thin atmosphere. She had called them ‘shooting stars,’ which had puzzled Spock at seven. Now at twenty nine, watching as Enterprise shoots past the stars around them, he thinks the name to be quite apt.
He wishes she were still around to tell her she was right.
He takes a deep breath in and releases it slowly, slow enough that it cannot quite constitute a sigh, and turns back to his station.
“What is our destination, Captain?” he asks without looking up.
“Star charting,” he responds, pointing to the viewscreen. “That way.”
“That is hardly a specific destination, Captain,” Spock says, eager to submerse himself in work to banish the lingering sense of loss he only just inflicted upon himself.
“Two parsecs out of Beta Caeli,” he says tersely. Spock believes he is still somewhat dissatisfied with the outcome of the incident on Catulla. It is understandable. “Shouldn’t you be working on that debriefing, Commander?”
“I am capable of appropriately scheduling my time, Captain,” Spock says unthinkingly. “I will have a multitude of time to compile the debriefing report after my shift. I would suggest you do the same with your time, to avoid such time-management issues you accuse me of.”
There is a different human expression that comes to mind then; that of “biting one’s tongue,” for mere nanoseconds after the last word has escaped his lips, Spock knows he should not have spoken so candidly.
“Commander Spock,” Kirk says, his voice surprisingly light. For a moment Spock thinks he will engage in a human pleasantry and remark on the temperature around them. “I think your expert opinion may be required in the science labs right now. You better go down there and check.”
Spock does not move from his console. In fact, he does not bother to look up from his idling station-if he is not vigilant there may be an anomaly in this stretch of empty space he may miss from this inefficacious exchange with the captain. Spock calculates the statistical probability of such an incident occurring (point zero-zero-five percent) before offering Captain Kirk a response.
“There are no experiments in the Science Department that require my personal supervision at this juncture, Captain.”
Which is fact; Spock only just met with the department heads two full shift rotations ago.
“Spock,” the captain begins. For being a psi-null individual, Spock can feel the captain’s anger prickling against the back of his neck, anger that had not been there mere moments ago. He imagines the captain is clenching his fists tightly against the armrests of his command chair, but does not bother to look up from his station. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“I see.”
He has a sudden, illogical urge to refuse to comply even with this direct command. He knows that they are both angry. Empirically, he knows that ordering Spock off the bridge is the captain’s attempt to allow them both an opportunity to separate so they will not-in Kirk’s case-say something they might later regret. However, Spock is angry (angry because he does not know why Kirk is angry, because he is tired of all of the bickering and tension on the bridge, because he does not know how to fix this), and the gesture seems strangely irrelevant. A tense moment passes on the bridge where everyone watches them and no one moves. Eventually, Spock stands, unable to ignore a direct command from his superior officer. He pulls at the hem of his uniform shirt sharply before clasping his hands behind his back.
“Then, if you would excuse me, Captain, my presence is required on deck four.”
“Of course, Mister Spock,” the captain answers tightly. He swivels around to face the viewscreen and crosses his arms. “Don’t let us keep you.”
Spock does not report to deck four where he is certain his presence is not required. Instead, he instructs the turbolift to take him to medbay and ignores logic when it tells him he is behaving petulantly.
Enterprise’s Chief Medical Officer is treating a yeoman while arguing with one of his nurses. They do not appear to notice him, although Nurse Chapel does smile when she rushes past him with a tray of medical supplies at hand. Spock takes a seat in the small waiting alcove, where a very young engineer sits squirming silently beside him. Spock spends four point seven-three minutes trying to remember her name.
“Well, well, well,” Doctor McCoy says. “If it isn’t our executive officer himself.” He turns to the engineer and rolls his eyes. “Ortiz,” he says. “If there’s anyone on this ship who’s more accident-prone than the captain, it’d be you.”
Ortiz blushes faintly around a scowl and crosses her arms over her chest.
“I’m here for my full physical, sir,” she says. “Nurse Langston said-”
The doctor waves the explanation away and motions to Spock to follow him.
“Of course, Ensign,” McCoy says. “If you’ll excuse us.”
Spock follows the doctor into his office, watches as he circles around his desk and collapses into his seat with a deep sigh.
“Let me guess, Commander,” the doctor says as he swivels side to side in his chair. It reminds Spock immediately of Kirk and does nothing to ease Spock’s discomfort. “You’re here about the captain.”
At Spock’s terse silence, the Doctor merely laughs.
“You know, of the two of you, I didn’t think you’d be the first to come asking for my advice.”
“Doctor,” Spock begins, unsure how to respond to the previous statement, “as Captain and First Officer, Captain Kirk and I by necessity share a unique relationship, and under the somewhat unorthodox circumstances in which we briefly worked together-”
“You mean saving the whole damn world wasn’t enough to make you two buddies?”
“I have no need for ‘buddies,’ Doctor,” Spock answers tightly.
He does not mention that friendship was perhaps one of the main reasons he accepted the position aboard Enterprise, and that finding a relationship so different from that of his alternate’s is both startling and frustrating.
“So what are you here for, then?” It takes Spock longer than he would have expected to formulate a response to such a direct question. The doctor takes it upon himself to fill the silence before he can come up with a concise response. Spock notes how the man sighs audibly and leans both his elbows on his desk. “Let me guess. After you two killed Nero and became Super Space Heroes, you thought everything would be, I don’t know, rainbows and ice cream. Only it’s not. And you didn’t expect to want to kill him on a regular basis out here?”
“I do not frequently entertain murderous intentions toward the captain,” is all Spock can think of to say.
“That’s good,” Kirk’s voice says from the doorway behind him. Spock turns sharply and sees the captain leaning against the doorframe in a deceptively casual manner. “Because then I think we’d have a problem, Commander.”
It is physically impossible for the captain’s gaze to burn Spock in any way, and yet the metaphor seems surprisingly apt as Kirk’s eyes sweep up and down his rigid form. Doctor McCoy swears under his breath and stands, moving around the desk to stand between the two of them. Spock calculates the likelihood of a physical altercation occurring between them, recalculates to factor in McCoy’s apprehensive glare and the quiet, unreadable expression on Kirk’s face.
“I thought you were reporting to the deck four, Commander,” Kirk begins when Spock says “Do you believe it wise to leave the bridge without its Captain?” almost simultaneously.
“Are you kidding me?” the captain says. “I came down to talk to Bones, not to continue an argument I thought we’d settled-”
“Ordering me off the bridge is a petulant and childish way to settle an argument, Captain, and if that is your idea of-”
“Okay wow, did you seriously just call your commanding officer petulant?”
“Need I remind you that it was you who disrespected your Executive Officer on the bridge mere moments ago, Captain, with albeit sufficient provocation-”
“You’re the one who’s always belittling my command decisions in front of the crew! It’s not my fault that the only way I can keep from shooting you out an airlock is-”
“All right, you two need to stop,” McCoy finally says, forcefully pulling Kirk away from where he has stepped into Spock’s personal space. He turns to Spock and says-with only mild irony, Spock thinks-“I can see how even your hobgoblin brain could see you need help. I mean, god damn, you two, how old are you?”
“Hey!” the captain says, refocusing his attention on the doctor while Spock reminds himself that Doctor McCoy has a habit of baiting people.
“Shut it, Jim,” the doctor says sharply. “You know damn well you wouldn’t have come down here during your shift to bitch at me unless you were really pissed off. And you shouldn’t be so pissed off at your second-in-command.”
Doctor McCoy stops himself, and a slow, vaguely threatening smile begins to spread over his face. Kirk seems to realize that this is an ill omen of sorts, as he frowns and begins to subtly shuffle away.
“Bones?” he says. “Bones, whatever you’re thinking right now, stop.”
“Oh no, Jimmy,” McCoy answers. Roughly, he places his hand on the captain’s shoulder and shakes him while the captain grimaces. “I have just the solution for you two.”
(>>>next>>>)
Artist: insideapollo
Mixer: jazzy_peaches
Series: Reboot, AOS, XI
Characters/Pairings: Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Uhura, Miranda Jones, an abundance of OCs; Kirk/Spock Warnings: an abundance of minor TOS characters and (mostly alien) OCs. Also major douche-y-ness from everyone for a while, but then bam! rom-com. Beware.
Rating: R
Word Count: ~35k
Summary: Even when they hate each other, they're still sort of falling in love.
General Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related people, places, things, and possibly ideas are the property of Gene Roddenberry, CBS, Paramount, possibly JJ Abrhams and just generally tons of people who aren't me. No money is being made off of this fan-work and no copyright infringement is intended.
Link to Art: This is how we are (but not how we're going to be)
Link to Mix: Judging From Picture Books
Masterpost
[Part One]
Even after direct contact with the human species for five point eight two years, Spock finds that he still does not understand them as well as he perhaps should. He understands individual human beings, of course-Ensign Chekov, for example, is boisterous and eager to learn. Spock has spent more than one evening with him in the Science labs aboard Enterprise discussing telemetry and the feasibility of quantum hyperinflation in a controlled environment. Doctor Simon Tam from medical and Lieutenant Mira Romaine from the science department are even-tempered and very logical, and Spock has no trouble communicating effectively with either of them. Nyota-has of late become more difficult to understand, but that does not stop Spock from attempting communication with her or even enjoying her company.
Neither does he have any particular qualms with any of the Andorian crew, nor the Orion, Denebian, nor Stryptilian complement of the ship. Perhaps, if Spock may be so bold as to extrapolate, it is only one particular human being who continues to baffle him, and the consistency with which they interact has made Spock biased. He must meditate on this possibility at the next available juncture, and so Spock files the information away for Gamma shift.
Of course, Spock is referring to Captain Kirk. In fact, he is willing to admit to a potential problem in their working relationship approximately sixty eight days into their five-year mission. He is, unfortunately, unable to give himself a more accurate approximation, as he is still unsure his belief has any basis in fact.
(Spock imagines that his mother would say he is “over thinking things,” but she is dead and he cannot hope to know what she would say in such circumstances, so such a thought is neither necessary nor wanted.)
The friction between Captain Kirk and himself continues to baffle him, however, because he had believed their working relationship to be quite complementary after their success with Nero.
“It’s because the whole crisis with Nero was, well, a crisis,” Nyota explains to him one afternoon in the middle of the Mess Hall. Spock is scheduled to work Beta Shift today, and so is enjoying an early breakfast while Nyota-who was working Alpha-has a late lunch. “People work differently under a lot of stress. There was this girl in my Intro to Battle Tactics class at the Academy; her name was Tel-ak’hmes. She was brilliant in her field of study but had really bad test anxiety. She would put so much stress on herself the week preceding an exam that she completely blanked on test day.”
“What was her field of study?”
Nyota breathes out heavily in what could be interpreted as a sigh. She sets her fork down and studies him carefully.
“History of Denebian culture,” she says slowly. “But it’s not relevant to the point I’m trying to make, Spock.” Perhaps expecting a response from Spock that he does not give, she pauses for a moment before continuing. “There are individuals who perform better under duress, and others who don’t. Either way, events that carry a lot of stress can bring out characteristics that the individual wouldn’t normally exhibit. Most of the class thought Tel-ak’hmes wasn’t very smart, because she was always stressing over her test-performance, but she was one of the smartest people in there.”
She takes a slow sip of her glass of water, her eyes trained on Spock. For his part, Spock is not entirely certain how he should respond. He can understand Nyota’s reasoning; however, he does not know if he agrees with her conclusion. In fact, he protests quite strongly the implication that the captain is only capable of expressing the abilities he’d exhibited on the Narada during crises.
In Spock’s opinion, further evidence is required before such a blanket statement can be given. He wants to tell Nyota that her logic is not sound and that perhaps her biases towards the captain are clouding her reasoning skills.
Instead, he says, “Thank you, Nyota, for your input.”
She smiles at him then, the first time since he had asked for her opinion on the matter. Spock thinks that perhaps he is beginning to understand why tact is so important when communicating.
“I have to get back to the bridge,” she says. She stands and hesitates for a moment before speaking again. “Will you walk with me?”
“I have an appointment with the Science Department heads in four point six minutes,” is Spock’s response. He cannot help but notice that the smile previously gracing Nyota’s delicate features is now gone.
“Of course,” she replies. “I guess I’ll see you some other time, then.”
“Undoubtedly,” Spock answers.
He does not watch her depart. Instead, he finishes up his bowl of fruit and proceeds to the Science Department.
His meeting with the ten heads of the Science Department is short. After only two months on the Enterprise and less than half a dozen exploratory missions logged, it is no surprise that there is little mission-related business to discuss. He approves several independent research projects and dismisses his subordinates fifty eight minutes later.
With fifteen minutes until his shift officially begins, Spock enters the bridge. Alpha shift is already very near over, but the nature of Spock’s schedule has him working at odd times. It is true that his circadian rhythms long ago adapted to that of a typical human diurnal schedule, because of the length of time he spent at the Academy, but lately Spock has gone out of his way to reacquaint his body with the old Vulcan day. It was tedious to force his body to adapt to a schedule that is not implemented aboard the starship. It is also more work for the quarter-master, with whom Spock has spoken with and agreed to help plan his schedule accordingly.
It is, quite unabashedly, illogical for Spock to work four hours per shift, every shift, every day. However, upon first waking, Spock thinks of Vulcan, and when he enters the mess hall it is quite empty-as most of Enterprise’s crew is either in the middle of shift or very much asleep, and so he thinks of Vulcan then. When he walks onto the bridge or science labs, and his subordinates turn to him, Spock rather hopes they also, will think of Vulcan. And in this manner, illogical behavior such as Spock’s is quite justifiable.
Someone appears to have recently said or done something humorous as Spock crosses to his station, for laughter still hangs in the air around them. The atmosphere on the bridge is relaxed and amicable when Lieutenant Gabrielle Laura stands, already familiar with his routine. She nods in acknowledgment and prepares to exit the bridge.
“I relieve you of your duties as acting Science Officer, Lieutenant,” he says before she reaches the elevator.
The lieutenant whips around and salutes him, blushing faintly.
“I am relieved, sir,” she says quickly, perhaps having forgotten simple Starfleet procedure.
“Spock, you don’t have to go through that every time you report for duty,” the captain says when the lieutenant has disappeared, swiveling in his chair to face him.
He is smiling good-naturedly, as is much of the bridge crew. Ensign Chekov and Lieutenant Sulu share a look over the helm before turning to study him.
“It is standard procedure,” Spock responds neutrally.
“I know that,” is the captain’s amiable response, “But it’s cumbersome and antiquated, too. Would it kill you to be a little more lax, Spock?”
“If you believe certain Starfleet regulations to be obsolete, sir, then I suggest you send a formal petition to Starfleet Headquarters.”
The atmosphere on the bridge changes abruptly. The captain is no longer smiling; rather, there hurt flashes across his face before it is replaced by the faint shadow of a frown. His relaxed posture straightens out abruptly, the sound of his feet hitting the floor is inordinately loud in the ensuing silence.
“Of course, Commander,” he says. Something about his mood has shifted, as the relaxed atmosphere around the bridge has tensed minutely. “Thank you for clearing that up for me.”
Clearly the captain has taken offense where none was intended. Spock is unsure if he should apologize for whatever he may have said to cause such a negative reaction in the captain.
“Thanks are unnecessary,” Spock tries.
“Right, obviously,” Captain Kirk says, and even Spock can detect the sarcasm in his voice.
At that moment, Alpha shift officially ends, and the flood of Beta shift crew effectively cuts the conversation short. Kirk swivels back around to face the viewscreen and does not say a word as Beta shift begins.
It is obvious that the bridge crew feels the lingering tension between Kirk and himself; the only conversation on the bridge is stifled and somber. Captain Kirk waits only long enough for every member of the Beta shift crew to become situated before he stands.
“You have the bridge, Commander,” he says, and while the comment is directed at Spock, he keeps his gaze firmly locked on the viewscreen.
“Acknowledged, Captain,” Spock says.
He notices that even after the captain has gone, the tension does not ease out of the crew for another one point seven hours.
***
Catulla is a planet skirting dangerously close to the Neutral Zone. The Federation achieved first contact with it nine point seven years previous, but its planetary government has a history of paranoia and neutrality, which has proven cumbersome to certain Starfleet admirals. A formal treaty with has been stalled no less than four times in the intervening years. The most recent of which-two point two years ago-was postponed after a scandal with a Catullan Ambassador’s son.
Recently, however, the Federation has been able to reopen negotiations with Catulla, as its people have been growing increasingly restless over the possibility of Klingon invasion. A series of diplomatic summits has been called on the planet, and as a show of good faith, Enterprise has been ordered to the planet to witness the negotiations and-as Admiral Pike had told them over transmission-“generally act important.”
To Spock it does not seem the most logical course of action, to send a starship fitted for battle to a skittish, paranoid planet. Unfortunately he cannot comfortably speak with the captain of his misgivings; their working relationship as it stands is lukewarm at best. He is uncomfortable with lodging a formal protest against the mission. Instead, he merely makes a note to himself in his personal log and reports to the transporter room at the scheduled time.
The captain is already present; he is leaning against the console, flexing and un-flexing his hands as he speaks with the other members of the landing party. For once Spock had been in agreement with Kirk on the members of their landing party. Lieutenant Commander Ailough Tor-an Orion male-is head of Enterprise’s Department of Xenocultural Relations. He and Nyota will serve as suitable replacements for formal diplomats. Two security personnel are on the far side of the transporter room, inspecting a pair of phasers before strapping them onto their respective holsters.
Kirk looks up at that moment; he smiles hopefully in Spock's direction before a muscle in his jaw twitches and he stands straight up.
“Ready, Commander?”
Spock inclines his head once in acknowledgment.
“All that remains is confirmation from the Catullan government that we are clear to beam down,” Spock says. “For a planet with a history of semi-isolationism, Catulla’s transporter protocol is remarkably similar to that of a typical penal colony.”
Spock finds it quite fascinating that such a coincidence should occur, and is in fact calculating the odds of such an occurrence when the captain replies.
“Don’t tell those diplomats down there that little bit of trivia,” he says, that muscle in his jaw still twitching. “I doubt politicians will want to hear they run their planet like a prison.”
The transporter room goes suspiciously silent after that proclamation. Spock raises an eyebrow and attempts to curtail the sudden frustration that builds up within him. Of course he did not mean his remark to be offensive, nor did he intend to repeat the statement to anyone on the planet’s surface.
“Of course, Captain,” Spock answers because he does not wish to have an argument before this mission.
At that moment, the transporter console beeps, indicating that Catulla has cleared them for beam-down. Kirk stares at Spock for another three point nine seconds, as if he cannot quite believe Spock has no more to say on the matter, before turning and jumping onto the platform.
“Get up here everyone,” he says sharply. Spock notes that the rest of the away team is twelve percent more hasty to obey his orders than usual. “Try not to cause a diplomatic incident.”
Spock ascends the steps to the transporter platform placidly and takes his place by the captain’s side. Kirk does not look his way as he says, “Energize.”
The Catullan High Governor, one Yssiri Cos, is not present when the away team beams onto the planet's surface. Instead they are greeted by a diplomatic envoy flanked by security personnel. As a standard procedure, newcomers to Catulla are subjected to a cursory security sweep. It is no different for Enterprise's crew. The Catullan security force does eye Lieutenants Barry Giotto’s and Angela Martine’s phasers somewhat suspiciously, but eventually they are allowed to pass into the Council Chamber, where the diplomatic summit will be taking place.
They all file into the room in two neat rows, where they are greeted with their first sight of the Council Chamber. It has a low, reinforced ceiling. The building itself is below ground, and its doors are a dense, heavy metal alloy, with a complex series of locks along the circular frame. The main door stands ajar now-perhaps as a show of good-faith to the Federation-but it is obvious that it is not usually kept so. Spock assumes that should the need arise, the room can also double as a fallout shelter. Still, it is brightly lit, and already several diplomats and admirals are mingling with various Catullan government officials.
Spock notes Admiral Komack's rigid silhouette on the other side of the chamber; he is speaking to a Catullan female who seems only mildly interested in what he is recounting. On the opposite end of the chamber, Admiral Pike stands, the only evidence of his ordeal on the Narada the cane he leans against heavily. He is chatting with two rigid Catullan males, both of whom have their hands tucked behind their backs. The away team disperses at the Captain's command, and Spock watches as they all wander into the crowd.
Particularly, Spock watches Captain Kirk as he winds his way through the crowd seemingly without purpose. It is not that Spock does not trust Kirk-he would not have asked for the position of First Officer had that been the case-but sometimes Spock finds he cannot quite tear his eyes away from the captain. It has lately become a habit, and when Kirk turns to scan the room once more and locks eyes with Spock, the hopeful smile he sends Spock's way too is quite familiar, as is the scowl that replaces it moments later. He is, however, too far away to hear Kirk's remark, so he does not feel entirely guilty for turning and resolutely crossing to a different area of the room.
That is, of course, when his father sees him. Spock’s relationship with Sarek has always been strained, and while the passing of his mother forced the two of them to communicate, it has done little to heal the yawning void that figuratively separates them. There is no way for Spock to excuse himself without appearing rude, and so he walks over to where Sarek is holding court with three dignitaries, Captain Stone from Enterprise's sister ship, USS Defiant, and two members of the Catullan's Governing Council.
"Spock," he says when Spock comes to a halt beside the group. "It is pleasing to see you again."
"Peace and long life, Father," Spock says formally to the casual greeting. "I hope you are in good health."
"I am," Sarek responds. Here, he turns to the group surrounding them. "This is Commander Spock of Vulcan, currently First Officer on board the United Starship Enterprise. He is also my son."
The others nod in acknowledgment of his rank.
At that moment, the High Governor chooses to enter the chamber. His entrance is preceded by a full security escort, which he dismisses with a casual wave of his arm. His hair is lavender and shining in youth, and is done up in tight ringlets in the style of his people. There is nothing particular about his dress to differentiate him from the other members of the Governing Council. Spock thinks this is perhaps another tradition that comes from a long history of paranoia. If a would-be assassin cannot tell members of the Governing Council apart, it would be much harder to pick out the High Governor. He steps up onto the ceremonial speaking platform and a hush almost immediately falls over the room.
“Honored guests,” Governor Yssiri says, smiling broadly. “It is in good trust that we welcome you today. Be welcomed into our fold, for tomorrow our negotiations begin.”
There is a smattering of polite applause at that before the governor steps down from the platform. Spock sees Kirk standing by the landing, waiting to greet him. For a second they lock eyes again, and Spock receives the distinct impression that he is missing some human social cue.
“Excuse me, Father,” Spock says idly, already departing from the small sphere of influence his father holds and weaving through the crowd to reach Kirk and the High Governor.
However, on Spock’s journey he is waylaid by Admiral Pike, Commander Tor and Nyota, all of whom introduce him to various dignitaries and Catullan politicians-they also force him to recite various illogical forms of pleasantries. It is therefore twenty-six minutes and fourteen seconds before Spock is able to reach Kirk and Governor Yssiri.
It would not be logical for Spock to lie to himself, and so he cannot honestly say he was not apprehensive of leaving Kirk alone with the Catullan High Governor. However, when Spock reaches the two of them, he finds Governor Yssiri in the midst of a booming laugh, clearly pleased with something. Kirk too is smiling widely, holding a glass of Catullan wine to his lips in an attempt to conceal his mirth. When he sees Spock, some of the joy flickers out of Kirk's gaze, but he maintains a somewhat forced smile while the governor composes himself. Spock clasps his hands behind his back and waits.
"Your Excellency Yssiri," Kirk begins, having practiced the standard Catullan greetings beforehand. "I entrust to you the knowledge of my Executive Officer. He is Commander Spock."
"Commander Spock," Yssiri repeats, taking a drink from his own ceremonial glass. "Your Captain is a remarkable specimen of humanity. Are all humans as eloquent as he?"
"It is true Captain Kirk is a singular human," Spock agrees slowly, suddenly very conscious of the way Kirk is staring at him.
"Your Excellency," Kirk starts, the smile dropping from his face. "I think-"
"I entrust my informal name to you, Captain Kirk," Yssiri says then. "It is Cos."
Kirk does not say anything for a moment. It is indeed a great show of faith from the High Governor, that he would supply Kirk with his informal name.
"Your trust is great to me," Kirk says awkwardly. "You may call me Jim."
Governor Yssiri laughs again and takes another deep drink from his glass. He waves his hand once in obvious dismissal.
"Go confer with your Executive Officer, Jim," he says amiably. "He looks to have issues to discuss with you."
Kirk nods to him and watches the Catullan make his way through the crowd. Immediately two members of the Governing Council flank him. Some minutes later, Kirk and Spock are approached by two servants who offer to lead them to their quarters for the duration of the mission. Spock is content to continue on in silence, mentally composing his schedule for tomorrow, until they come to a halt and it becomes obvious that Kirk and Spock are to be sharing sleeping quarters for the duration of the mission.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Kirk says, letting the formal composure he had kept up to that moment slip. “Is there a particular reason why we can’t have separate sleeping areas?”
The servants share a look that even Spock can interpret as apprehensive.
“Are your accommodations not to your liking?” one of them asks.
“It’s not that,” Kirk placates. His gaze flickers between the two servants, to Spock and away, the tips of his rounded ears flushing lightly. “My First Officer is Vulcan. Vulcans value their privacy.”
“Privacy,” the other servant repeats. “Do officers frequently keep secrets from their commanding officers?”
Kirk does not answer immediately. No doubt he is seriously considering the implication of the servant’s question. There is obviously a gap in Starfleet’s knowledge, as the question itself implies a large amount of trust between two commanding officers. Spock thinks that it may be a grave error to fail to answer this question to the Catullan’s satisfaction.
“These quarters will suffice,” Spock says then. “We are humbled by your hospitality. Please inform the High Governor of our satisfaction.”
The two Catullans bow momentarily and depart. Kirk and Spock are left staring into the large living area, which thankfully has two separate sleeping alcoves.
“Well thank fuck for small miracles,” Kirk says, mostly to himself.
Spock chooses to ignore the statement and instead enters their rooms. Spock knows they should be discussing the impending negotiations or at the very least what Kirk has discovered about Yssiri, but he finds himself reluctant to open up a dialogue with the captain at this juncture. Kirk is pacing around the room, restless, and Spock knows from previous experience that when Kirk behaves in such a manner he is not entirely receptive to Spock’s attempts at communication. Instead, Spock busies himself with reading through a copy of the peace treaty.
They pass the rest of the night in silence.
“I was thinking we could go check up on High Governor Yssiri,” Kirk says the next morning over their meal. “He made it a point to tell me last night how much he wanted to show us around.”
They are in a makeshift mess hall, with two rows of long tables set up as a temporary repast area. Kirk and Spock arrived this morning early, and so they are relatively alone at this juncture. Spock estimates that Nyota, Tor and the rest of their landing party will arrive momentarily.
“It is not necessarily required for us to remain inseparable throughout the course of our stay,” Spock answers, taking a slow drink from his glass of water.
“Why not?” is Kirk’s response. “They like it here when we show solidarity and stuff. You know Yssiri founded the Catullan Independent Research Association before he’d been elected High Governor?”
“Clearly, he is an intelligent and ambitious being.”
“Yeah,” Kirk says, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. “I think you two would have a lot to talk about.”
Spock does not know how to reply to such a comment, and so for the moment he remains silent.
“The High Governor seemed particularly taken with you last night,” Spock says into the silence some time later. The captain merely shrugs. “It is curious, considering the culture’s natural propensity towards mistrust.”
“I’m just naturally charming, Spock,” Kirk says in a way that Spock believes is supposed to be ‘teasing.’
“Of course, Captain,” Spock says. “I will remind you, of course, that said ‘natural charm,’ namely your sexual proclivity towards seduction and promiscuity, may be construed as threatening to certain species.”
“My sexual proclivity towards promiscuity,” he repeats. The captain lets out a short breath, blinks very quickly for a moment, and then assiduously looks away, choosing instead to study the contents of his plate. “Okay,” he says quietly. “First, you don’t get to call me a slut in public. You just. You can’t do that.”
“I did no such thing. I merely-”
“Okay, you don’t get to calmly insinuate that I’m some kind of whore in the middle of a fucking diplomatic mission.”
“I only wished to ascertain-”
“Just go,” Kirk says then. Spock finds his gaze wandering away from the blue eyes that will not look at him. Instead, he studies Kirk’s hands, the right closed tightly around his eating utensil, the left resting lightly against his forearm. “Do whatever you want. Just go.”
Spock for a moment considers telling the Captain that he is being needlessly defensive, as Spock does not believe Kirk’s promiscuity to be detrimental to his command. Except, perhaps he did, as on reflection Spock’s statement does carry a shockingly obvious negative implication. He wishes to apologize then, for speaking inappropriately, but Kirk is not looking at him. For a moment, he appears completely still, poised for fight or flight. At any rate, Spock recognizes an order when he hears one. He departs.
It is curious to Spock-no, that statement is incorrect. In the face of emotionalism, truth must always prevail, and so Spock forces himself to understand the truth. It is frustrating to Spock that 89 percent of his interactions with Captain Kirk end in much the same manner, namely with Spock either offended or the one to give offense. He is troubled by this recurring pattern, as at the moment he cannot find any particular reason for their interactions to conclude like this.
He is beginning to assume that perhaps he has no natural compatibility with the captain, and that none might ever form, despite the attitude of a certain older, alternate universe counterpart of himself. It is not a pleasant thought.
As it happens, Spock is participating in what a number of species would call “pacing” or alternately, “venting,” and as such is not entirely aware of his surroundings as he moves. Within the confines of his mind, he acknowledges that focusing on his frustrations is quite illogical. Were he not on duty, he would retire to his quarters for meditation.
Indeed, he is contemplating retiring to his quarters despite being on duty when he unexpectedly encounters a member of the Catullan Governing Council. Her hair is a dark purple and swept up in a high, severe arrangement. She nods her politely when she sees him, and Spock returns the gesture, taking a moment to recall her name from the files he reviewed last night.
Her name is La Turenga. She, along with three other members of the Governing Council, forms the conservative block that is currently advocating neutrality and therefore opposes the Federation’s presence.
“You are Commander Spock,” she says after a brief pause.
“Yes,” Spock acknowledges.
Governor La nods again.
“Ambassador Sarek has spoken highly of you.”
“You have spoken with my father?”
It is a redundant and very illogical question to ask, as she obviously has spoken with Sarek. However, Spock thinks that since perhaps the start of this assignment he has not been behaving quite logically. Moreover, Spock has never claimed to behave logically concerning matters related to Sarek (it took the end of their world for Sarek to bridge his stony silence, and even then Spock wonders if it is only for Mother’s memory that Sarek speaks with him at all).
“Yes,” La answers, seemingly unaware of Spock’s distraction. “He is a trustworthy alien, it would seem. The High Governor himself has taken to him, as well as your captain.”
“I noticed, yes,” Spock says.
Spock was not the only one to notice, then, the way Yssiri appraised Captain Kirk. He thinks back to the hurt that flashed across Kirk’s face and believes that despite this, he may still have been wrong to speak so brazenly to his captain.
“Will he attend the Reading of the Treaty this morning?”
As with all formal documents proposed on Catulla, the proposed treaty will be read in their entirety before the negotiations begin. The ceremony is projected to last from three to five hours and has been deemed optional to both Enterprise’s and Defiant’s away teams.
“The captain, of course, is free to do as he wishes,” Spock says slowly, aware that his answer here is important but not sure why. At any rate, they did not speak of it previously, so Spock does not precisely know the captain’s intentions. “High Governor Yssiri expressed a desire to act as ‘tour guide’ to Captain Kirk should he wish to know more of Catullan culture.”
Governor La is silent at that. They begin walking, a slow, meandering pace that La sets. The corners of her thinly-shaped eyebrows droop slightly in a way that suggests deep contemplation in her species.
“The High Governor is without djit-hiru,” she says at length. The Universal Translator struggles over her final word. “I would take care, Commander.”
“I do not believe I understand your meaning,” Spock replies when the Universal Translator fails to supply him with even a list of possible meanings for her word. “What is djit-hiru?”
“To have djit-hiru is to have those who share with you all.” She stops for a moment, both in speech and movement before continuing. “It is the most basic form of trust on Catulla.”
At that moment, the Universal Translator hums softly in his ear and spits out life-bond/family-love as possible translations. Spock raises his eyebrow and clasps his hands behind his back.
“I see,” Spock states. “In which case I still do not understand. Again, Captain Kirk is free to do as he wishes. While I do not believe that any proposed overtures made to him will be accepted, it is ultimately not my concern.”
His statement seems to have a not together exiguous affect on Governor La. Indeed, it seems to have affronted her. She begins to blink very rapidly, and the fine, gill-like slits along her neck flare open in either aggression or fear.
“You and your captain are not, then, djit-hiru?” she asks quickly.
“If I understand your meaning, no, we are not.”
“Oh,” she replies, running her wrist along her gills reflexively. “But surely, between your crew, you are all djitae-hiras?”
Here the Universal Translator is quicker in inferring her meaning. It supplies Spock with family-love/commune/home, specific enough for Spock to understand what she means.
“I do not believe so.” He pauses here, aware of how truthful he is being, thinking back to countless moments he has spent eating alone or with only the company of Nyota. No, Enterprise is not his home. But then there are conversations he has with the exceptionally intelligent members of the crew, the way they smile fondly to him when off-duty in a way Spock never can. He thinks that someday it could be. “Is this different on Catulla?”
“Captain and Commander are always joined,” La says. “It is law. To not have djit-hiru, even djitae-hiras is-suspicious.”
“I see.”
He thinks that this, perhaps, could be a troubling turn of events.
“If you will excuse me, Commander, I believe I will continue on alone.”
She disappears down the corridor, her pale gray robes swishing around the corner.
For six point seven seconds, Spock remains still, his eyes not wavering from the bend in the corridor. Then, he blinks, turns on his heel and begins a search for Kirk.
He searches for the captain for fifty four point seven minutes and across all six landings of the underground building. Spock finds him, as it happens, on the topmost level of the underground Governing Fortress. It is a high-ceilinged, somewhat empty atrium, with a large fountain as the only decoration in the center of the room. The topmost row of windows allow for faint slivers of silver light to spill in from the surface, and in one of those beams stands Kirk, talking quietly with Governor Yssiri.
“Captain,” Spock calls from across the room, his voice echoing along the walls of the atrium.
Kirk’s head snaps up, but Spock is too far away to interpret his facial expressions. He appears to speak with Yssiri again, who releases his hold on the captain’s upper arm. In six quick strides he is before Spock; inexplicably, he is smiling.
“Thank fuck you showed up,” he says quietly through his smile. “You were right about Yssiri, by the way. So whatever, don’t rub it in.”
“Captain, I must speak with you. Alone,” he adds, his gaze flicking over to Yssiri, who is watching them intently.
“Awesome,” Kirk says, and Spock cannot tell if he means it sincerely or ironically. “Let’s head back to our rooms.”
The tops of Kirk’s rounded ears flush lightly as he pushes past Spock into the stairwell behind him. It is now 1107 hours on Catulla. The Reading of the Treaty would have started at approximately 1030 hours. Spock regrets that he cannot be present at the reading, as he had made arrangements with Nyota to attend.
“So what is it, Commander?” Kirk asks when they are once again within the privacy of their temporary living quarters.
Spock considers the best way to phrase his quandary.
“I believe I inadvertently offended the leader of the opposition block,” he decides. “She referred to the workings of Enterprise as ‘suspicious,’ a word with numerous negative connotations attached to it.”
“So you’re not perfect.”
“My ego is not so inflated that I believed myself to be so, Captain,” Spock answers stiffly.
Kirk shakes his head at that, frowning suddenly.
“No, that’s not what-”
“The governor,” Spock continues, unwilling to be baited into an argument at this juncture, “expressed curiosity on the nature of our working relationship. She expressed some concern over the fact that we are not djit-hiru.”
“Did you figure out what that word meant?” Kirk asks, running a hand through the back of his hair. “I ran into it today too. I think trying to figure it out froze up my UT, because for a minute there I had no clue what Yssiri was saying.”
“I am still not entirely sure,” Spock admits. “From speaking with Governor La, it appears to be a figurative bond, formed by family members, friends or lovers of some kind.”
“Yeah, that’s what I had guessed,” Kirk says. Then-“Wait, you told her that we weren’t?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Here, Kirk purses his lips, runs his pointer and middle finger across the line of his jaw. The action is very close to obscene for a Vulcan, and so Spock averts his gaze. “I kind of told Yssiri that we were. Because, you know. We work together, and I thought it just meant friendship or something.”
“Captain, I am Vulcan,” Spock says, crossing to the other end of the room to inspect one of the paintings on the wall. “We do not have friends.”
The statement is not entirely true, as Nyota can perhaps be considered as such by some. But the type of friendship that Spock believes is implied by this new phrase-no, that Spock does not have. The captain does not respond to that immediately. In fact, so much time elapses that Spock does turn to look at him, believing for a moment that he may have inexplicably departed. Instead, Kirk is looking down at the ground, left hand trembling slightly, as if he is resisting the urge to clench it into a fist.
“Oh,” he says again, swallows before continuing. “Of course, Commander. How stupid of me.”
They are in the process of exploring multiple options for how to best deal with their possible situation when a call comes to the communication system in the living area of their temporary quarters. Kirk-who has been pacing for the past sixteen point seven minutes-scowls at the device before marching towards it.
"Kirk here."
"Kirk, I want to know what you two said to those Catullan Ambassadors that has them complaining about mistrust and distrust in the Federation."
It is Admiral Pike's voice, Spock recognizes. He crosses the space of the room to stand behind Kirk, so he is visible to Pike, before clasping his hands behind his back.
"A certain Catullan governor expressed her suspicions of me regarding the captain and my lack of djit-hiru," Spock replies, not missing the way Kirk flinches ever so slightly at Spock's words.
"Jit-hero?" Pike says in a remarkably abysmal attempt at the language.
"It's a complex word that means something like a--" here Kirk stops, swallows-- "a bond between two or more people."
"Like marriage or something?"
"Not necessarily," Spock interrupts. "Although it is my theory that the human concept of marriage is somewhat similar to one particular aspect of the djit-hiru. More generally it refers to a close personal relationship between those you work, live or commune with. None of which I have, and so responded accordingly."
Pike breathes deeply for a moment, Spock inspects the unobtrusive blue wall behind Pike's seat in the interim.
"So they don't trust us anymore because you don't have friends aboard the Enterprise?"
"Uh," Kirk says then, angling his head towards Spock but never breaking eye-contact with Pike. He wonders for a second if Kirk had wished to turn to Spock for guidance of some sort, but at the last moment dissuaded himself. "Not really. That would probably have happened when I kind of told them incongruous info. Sir."
"'Incongruous info'," Pike repeats. "Do I want to know this?"
"When posed with the question, the Captain told High Governor Yssiri that we were, in fact djit-hiru," Spock says.
"The UT didn't know how to translate it!" Kirk defends quickly. "I had to practically guess what it meant, and I guess I guessed wrong."
Pike is silent for a long moment after Kirk's statement (seven point five seconds). Finally, some semblance of a smile lifts up one side of his mouth.
"You were overdue for one, I'd wager. A wrong guess," Pike says then. He sighs, rubs at one of his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Okay. I think this is fixable. I just need you guys off this planet, yesterday."
"A physical impossibility, as there is no proven way to--"
"Yes sir," Kirk interrupts, his mouth set in a firm line. Spock quells his irritation at being interrupted, instead raising an eyebrow.
"Call in your away team before they get cornered and accidentally make the matter worse," Pike says. "Pike out."
Spock blinks then, his mind for a moment grinding to a complete halt. Neither he nor Captain Kirk had thought of such a possibility, but if indeed members of the crew were forced to give their opinions on the matter, any disparate answers would be considered proof of their deceptiveness. Spock cannot believe such a thought had not occurred to him. It is a natural progression of intuitive logic. He recalls the argument exchanged between the captain and himself before Pike's transmission, surely the only logical culprit to Spock's slip in logic. It is unbearable that something as mundane as his working relationship with a superior officer can inhibit Spock's performance. Action must be taken, and soon.
"-Commander?" Kirk says from the other side of the room. Spock blinks again, aware suddenly that three minutes have elapsed. Kirk has his communicator in his hand and is repacking the clothes he brought along to the surface. "Uhura, Tor, Giotto and Martine have just beamed up. You ready?"
Spock's belongings are already packed, as he is not in the habit of leaving things in disarray. Even his garments from the previous day and his sleeping clothes had been neatly packed back into his bag before he departed for the morning meal.
"Yes, sir," Spock says. "I am ready."
They rematerialize on the ship to the away team gathered in a loose semicircle around the transporter pad. The transporter technician is concentrating very hard on something on the console; she hardly looks up when Kirk jumps off the platform.
"Get back to your stations," Kirk says quickly.
"Captain, what happened--"
"Is there something wrong?"
"I said," Kirk starts, his voice quiet and firm, not like Spock has ever heard before. Spock thinks, this is what a great captain sounds like. "I ordered you back to your stations."
After that, the away team moves around the transporter room efficiently, pulling off their phasers and making for the exit as quickly as they are able.
"You will all attend the debriefing tomorrow at 0800," Kirk says. "Hopefully your questions will be answered then."
"I believe I can have the debrief ready by 1500 hours today," Spock replies, his voice loud enough to carry. Nyota turns to him from the exit, her eyes wide. She purses her lips, clearly trying to communicate something non-verbally to Spock. "If you would prefer, Captain, in the name of expediency, to call the debriefing at such a time."
Kirk is facing away from him at this moment, so Spock cannot search his facial expressions for clues to his human emotions, but he does come to a stop at Spock's words. He does flex his hands once, twice, before he speaks again.
"That would be awesome," he says, in a voice that suggests the opposite is true. "Thank you, Commander."
"Thanks are unnecessary."
"Yeah, you've mentioned that before."
And with that, he departs, Nyota and Giotto moving out of his way as he hurries out. Spock is tempted to refer to his movement as "storming away," however that descriptor is very illogical, never mind that Spock has likened Kirk to a storm in his mind on more than one occasion. For two point seven seconds, those remaining in the transporter room are motionless. Then, Martine lets out a long breath and follows Kirk out. After that, the others file out.
The transporter technician huffs out a laugh to the almost empty room.
"Do you find something particularly humorous, Ensign?" Spock asks sharply.
"No sir," she is quick to respond. "Sorry sir."
When Spock arrives on the bridge, it is almost unnaturally silent. The ship is already in motion, the stars streaking across the viewscreen merely elongated flashes of light. They remind Spock, suddenly, of sitting out in the desert before his home on Shi’kahr with Mother as she pointed out the asteroids that would frequently penetrate Vulcan’s thin atmosphere. She had called them ‘shooting stars,’ which had puzzled Spock at seven. Now at twenty nine, watching as Enterprise shoots past the stars around them, he thinks the name to be quite apt.
He wishes she were still around to tell her she was right.
He takes a deep breath in and releases it slowly, slow enough that it cannot quite constitute a sigh, and turns back to his station.
“What is our destination, Captain?” he asks without looking up.
“Star charting,” he responds, pointing to the viewscreen. “That way.”
“That is hardly a specific destination, Captain,” Spock says, eager to submerse himself in work to banish the lingering sense of loss he only just inflicted upon himself.
“Two parsecs out of Beta Caeli,” he says tersely. Spock believes he is still somewhat dissatisfied with the outcome of the incident on Catulla. It is understandable. “Shouldn’t you be working on that debriefing, Commander?”
“I am capable of appropriately scheduling my time, Captain,” Spock says unthinkingly. “I will have a multitude of time to compile the debriefing report after my shift. I would suggest you do the same with your time, to avoid such time-management issues you accuse me of.”
There is a different human expression that comes to mind then; that of “biting one’s tongue,” for mere nanoseconds after the last word has escaped his lips, Spock knows he should not have spoken so candidly.
“Commander Spock,” Kirk says, his voice surprisingly light. For a moment Spock thinks he will engage in a human pleasantry and remark on the temperature around them. “I think your expert opinion may be required in the science labs right now. You better go down there and check.”
Spock does not move from his console. In fact, he does not bother to look up from his idling station-if he is not vigilant there may be an anomaly in this stretch of empty space he may miss from this inefficacious exchange with the captain. Spock calculates the statistical probability of such an incident occurring (point zero-zero-five percent) before offering Captain Kirk a response.
“There are no experiments in the Science Department that require my personal supervision at this juncture, Captain.”
Which is fact; Spock only just met with the department heads two full shift rotations ago.
“Spock,” the captain begins. For being a psi-null individual, Spock can feel the captain’s anger prickling against the back of his neck, anger that had not been there mere moments ago. He imagines the captain is clenching his fists tightly against the armrests of his command chair, but does not bother to look up from his station. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“I see.”
He has a sudden, illogical urge to refuse to comply even with this direct command. He knows that they are both angry. Empirically, he knows that ordering Spock off the bridge is the captain’s attempt to allow them both an opportunity to separate so they will not-in Kirk’s case-say something they might later regret. However, Spock is angry (angry because he does not know why Kirk is angry, because he is tired of all of the bickering and tension on the bridge, because he does not know how to fix this), and the gesture seems strangely irrelevant. A tense moment passes on the bridge where everyone watches them and no one moves. Eventually, Spock stands, unable to ignore a direct command from his superior officer. He pulls at the hem of his uniform shirt sharply before clasping his hands behind his back.
“Then, if you would excuse me, Captain, my presence is required on deck four.”
“Of course, Mister Spock,” the captain answers tightly. He swivels around to face the viewscreen and crosses his arms. “Don’t let us keep you.”
Spock does not report to deck four where he is certain his presence is not required. Instead, he instructs the turbolift to take him to medbay and ignores logic when it tells him he is behaving petulantly.
Enterprise’s Chief Medical Officer is treating a yeoman while arguing with one of his nurses. They do not appear to notice him, although Nurse Chapel does smile when she rushes past him with a tray of medical supplies at hand. Spock takes a seat in the small waiting alcove, where a very young engineer sits squirming silently beside him. Spock spends four point seven-three minutes trying to remember her name.
“Well, well, well,” Doctor McCoy says. “If it isn’t our executive officer himself.” He turns to the engineer and rolls his eyes. “Ortiz,” he says. “If there’s anyone on this ship who’s more accident-prone than the captain, it’d be you.”
Ortiz blushes faintly around a scowl and crosses her arms over her chest.
“I’m here for my full physical, sir,” she says. “Nurse Langston said-”
The doctor waves the explanation away and motions to Spock to follow him.
“Of course, Ensign,” McCoy says. “If you’ll excuse us.”
Spock follows the doctor into his office, watches as he circles around his desk and collapses into his seat with a deep sigh.
“Let me guess, Commander,” the doctor says as he swivels side to side in his chair. It reminds Spock immediately of Kirk and does nothing to ease Spock’s discomfort. “You’re here about the captain.”
At Spock’s terse silence, the Doctor merely laughs.
“You know, of the two of you, I didn’t think you’d be the first to come asking for my advice.”
“Doctor,” Spock begins, unsure how to respond to the previous statement, “as Captain and First Officer, Captain Kirk and I by necessity share a unique relationship, and under the somewhat unorthodox circumstances in which we briefly worked together-”
“You mean saving the whole damn world wasn’t enough to make you two buddies?”
“I have no need for ‘buddies,’ Doctor,” Spock answers tightly.
He does not mention that friendship was perhaps one of the main reasons he accepted the position aboard Enterprise, and that finding a relationship so different from that of his alternate’s is both startling and frustrating.
“So what are you here for, then?” It takes Spock longer than he would have expected to formulate a response to such a direct question. The doctor takes it upon himself to fill the silence before he can come up with a concise response. Spock notes how the man sighs audibly and leans both his elbows on his desk. “Let me guess. After you two killed Nero and became Super Space Heroes, you thought everything would be, I don’t know, rainbows and ice cream. Only it’s not. And you didn’t expect to want to kill him on a regular basis out here?”
“I do not frequently entertain murderous intentions toward the captain,” is all Spock can think of to say.
“That’s good,” Kirk’s voice says from the doorway behind him. Spock turns sharply and sees the captain leaning against the doorframe in a deceptively casual manner. “Because then I think we’d have a problem, Commander.”
It is physically impossible for the captain’s gaze to burn Spock in any way, and yet the metaphor seems surprisingly apt as Kirk’s eyes sweep up and down his rigid form. Doctor McCoy swears under his breath and stands, moving around the desk to stand between the two of them. Spock calculates the likelihood of a physical altercation occurring between them, recalculates to factor in McCoy’s apprehensive glare and the quiet, unreadable expression on Kirk’s face.
“I thought you were reporting to the deck four, Commander,” Kirk begins when Spock says “Do you believe it wise to leave the bridge without its Captain?” almost simultaneously.
“Are you kidding me?” the captain says. “I came down to talk to Bones, not to continue an argument I thought we’d settled-”
“Ordering me off the bridge is a petulant and childish way to settle an argument, Captain, and if that is your idea of-”
“Okay wow, did you seriously just call your commanding officer petulant?”
“Need I remind you that it was you who disrespected your Executive Officer on the bridge mere moments ago, Captain, with albeit sufficient provocation-”
“You’re the one who’s always belittling my command decisions in front of the crew! It’s not my fault that the only way I can keep from shooting you out an airlock is-”
“All right, you two need to stop,” McCoy finally says, forcefully pulling Kirk away from where he has stepped into Spock’s personal space. He turns to Spock and says-with only mild irony, Spock thinks-“I can see how even your hobgoblin brain could see you need help. I mean, god damn, you two, how old are you?”
“Hey!” the captain says, refocusing his attention on the doctor while Spock reminds himself that Doctor McCoy has a habit of baiting people.
“Shut it, Jim,” the doctor says sharply. “You know damn well you wouldn’t have come down here during your shift to bitch at me unless you were really pissed off. And you shouldn’t be so pissed off at your second-in-command.”
Doctor McCoy stops himself, and a slow, vaguely threatening smile begins to spread over his face. Kirk seems to realize that this is an ill omen of sorts, as he frowns and begins to subtly shuffle away.
“Bones?” he says. “Bones, whatever you’re thinking right now, stop.”
“Oh no, Jimmy,” McCoy answers. Roughly, he places his hand on the captain’s shoulder and shakes him while the captain grimaces. “I have just the solution for you two.”
(>>>next>>>)