Run Amok, 1/2
Title: Run Amok
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Sakurai Sho/Ohno Satoshi (somewhat implied); Sakurai Sho/Matsumoto Jun (past)
Summary: “Our commander here is experiencing a neurochemical imbalance, Captain. It’s what is causing his strange and violent behavior,” Ninomiya said. “He’s currently undergoing pon farr.”
Notes/Warnings: For boblemon as part of the jpnforph fundraiser. It is also still Sho’s birthday in my timezone, so hurray! Happy birthday Sho! This very strange story is a Star Trek AU, but it’s my hope that non-Trek fans might still enjoy it. If you at least know who Spock is, that should help you. Yes, Sho is a Vulcan because why not. This story is entirely based on the plot of Amok Time, an episode from the original Star Trek series (the Kirk and Spock one).
Names are written [First Name][Last Name] to match how the series usually addresses people from Earth, including Japanese characters like Hikaru Sulu and Hoshi Sato. But since it's Arashi, they're still very friendly with one another (there's -kuns and -chans flying all over the place). Any Trek canon errors are due to laziness, most likely. Live long and prosper, y’all.
Captain’s log, stardate 2268.5. The Stormchaser has successfully delivered Admiral Roddenberry to the economic summit on Altair VI. Upon conclusion of the summit in eight days, we are due to retrieve the admiral and return him to Starbase 192. In the meantime, we have been tasked with analysis of soil samples from various asteroids here in the Altair system.
-
Captain’s personal log, stardate 2268.5. Soil samples are really boring.
-
Ohno stood up straight, hoping he looked somewhat professional as Admiral Roddenberry and his staffers dematerialized. Once the bigwigs had vanished from the transporter pads in the usual shimmer of light, he exhaled heavily, tugging at the collar of his uniform jacket.
Behind him, he heard Chief Aiba chuckling. “It’s like having the professor breathing down your neck during an exam, huh?”
Ohno turned, nodding as Aiba’s swift fingers traveled across the console, ensuring that their precious human cargo made it planetside in one piece. And good riddance to the admiral. Having people on board who outranked him always made him nervous. They always asked questions about how he ran his ship, and he didn’t much care for their meddling. “If this was my ship…” they’d always start blabbing, men and women who hadn’t sat in a captain’s chair in a decade.
Satoshi Ohno, captain of the U.S.S. Stormchaser, was not what you’d call Starfleet’s finest. To this day, it still stunned him that Starfleet had even promoted him this high, given what many back in his Academy days had called his “appalling lack of interest in command.” But that was neither here nor there, and he was already halfway through his first five-year mission as captain. He suspected he’d be given another one, simply because he hadn’t screwed anything up too badly yet.
The Stormchaser was not the fleet’s fastest, nor its toughest, nor was it the fleet’s flagship. It had been months since they’d even had to fire a warning shot. Ohno, of course, preferred things that way. He knew that cadets graduating from Starfleet Academy dreaded getting assigned to the Stormchaser. VIP transport half the time. Scanning stuff, launching probes, and updating star charts the rest. But even though it was boring work, Ohno was fine with it. The last thing he wanted to do was be responsible for first contact with some alien species or take on a Klingon bird-of-prey.
Boring kept him and his crew alive.
He leaned against the transporter console heavily. “Eight days of freedom,” he murmured happily.
Aiba beamed from ear to ear. “I was hoping, sir, that I could work on the food replicators this week…”
Ohno looked up. If there was one thing his chief engineer liked to do, it was tinker with stuff that was already working correctly. Aiba was a smart guy, Ohno had always liked that about him, but he could be a little overenthusiastic. “I’ll…I’ll think about it. Set up some time with me later, we’ll chat…”
Aiba’s smile faltered the slightest bit. He was the only person on Ohno’s crew of more than 300 who thought the replicators ought to be able to make more traditional Chinese dishes. But everything else that came out of the replicator was just fine, and Ohno didn’t want any of Aiba’s tinkering to result in some culinary strangeness. It had been at least four months now that he’d dodged Aiba’s request, and he had yet to feel too bad about it.
“I’ll be on the bridge,” he said, knowing Aiba wasn’t the type to disobey and delay him. He headed out of the transporter room, prepared for eight days of soil samples. Not that he had to do much more than check in on the science team’s progress. They could handle all that stuff just fine. It was probably the best thing about being the captain - he’d gotten incredibly good at delegating.
He shut his eyes, peacefully enjoying the gentle hum of the turbolift as it carried him up to the bridge. His peace was slightly interrupted when the doors whooshed open, and he discovered Lieutenant Matsumoto was in his chair. Nobody had told him about a change. Ensign Kitagawa was in her usual place at the helm, Ikuta beside her in the navigator’s chair. But then Matsumoto’s place at the comms station was filled with a random ensign. Well, Ohno kind of recognized her face, but he’d always been awful with names.
Matsumoto got to his feet as soon as Ohno came close. Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Captain on the bridge,” his communications officer announced with a rather haughty flip of his hair.
He waved his hand. “Get back to work.” And as usual, they did so.
Matsumoto stayed beside him as Ohno took his seat, gazing out the view screen. Matsumoto still had them in orbit of Altair VI, the planet’s white cloudy atmosphere below them looking almost like a fluffy mattress to Ohno. Hmm, a nap soon would be a good way to wrap up the afternoon. He glanced over to yet another unfamiliar ensign sitting at the science console to the right of his captain’s chair.
“Commander Sakurai was feeling under the weather, sir,” Matsumoto said. “He left for his quarters about an hour ago.”
Ohno raised an eyebrow at that. Sho? Leaving the bridge of his own accord? It usually took a direct order from Ohno to get him to leave. His first officer was a workaholic, and probably the main reason the U.S.S. Stormchaser ever got anything accomplished. “He okay?”
He saw Matsumoto try and aim for a somewhat diplomatic look, but he’d always had an expressive face. Ohno saw the slightest quirk to his lips before he answered. “I…believe so, sir. I’m sure if it’s serious he’ll go to sickbay.”
“I’ll go bug him later,” Ohno decided. He lowered his voice so the others wouldn’t overhear. “Jun, seriously, is he going to be alright?”
It was Sho who was supposed to be coordinating the probes for the soil samples. Ohno didn’t know the first thing about it, and he didn’t want to look like an idiot. He knew the crew snickered about him behind his back sometimes.
Matsumoto leaned over. “He looked like he was going to throw up. His ears were bright red…”
Ohno was confused. “I’ve never seen him get sick before. Doesn’t he have like a super immune system?” he whispered.
“That’s what I thought too,” Matsumoto whispered back. “I thought Vulcans were immune to a whole bunch of stuff.”
He sat up straight in his chair, clearing his throat. “Lieutenant, thank you for the report. Please return to your station.”
Matsumoto walked away, and Ohno gripped the arms of his chair. Sho Sakurai, out of commission? That sort of thing was impossible. Or so he’d always counted on.
-
“Will it go away?” the ensign asked in a rather adorable panic, squirming around on the table while Nurse Yoshitaka jotted things down in his chart. “Or am I going to have those down there forever?”
Kazunari Ninomiya, ship’s doctor, could only load up his hypospray device with a fancy cocktail of antibiotics for now. “Well the lesson learned, Ensign, should be ‘maybe I shouldn’t stick my dick in that,’ right?”
Yoshitaka chuckled under her breath, coughing and looking away while the poor ensign scowled up at him. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a really awful bedside manner, Dr. Ninomiya?”
“You’re the fourth today,” Nino replied, tilting the ensign’s head back so he could administer the hypo. “Hold still and shut up.”
Truth be told, this was a new sexually transmitted infection. The ensigns and crewmen were always catching the weirdest new shit when they went off on shore leave. Nino supposed that he could be earning some more respect at Starfleet Medical for writing articles about these things, but leave that for the nerds. He did his part, jotting down his notes and sending them off along with samples of the strange viruses and bacteria that found their way into the Stormchaser crew’s bloodstream.
“Come back tomorrow, and we’ll see what works and what doesn’t. Then we’ll figure out a treatment plan,” he said, taking the med-pad from Yoshitaka’s hands and skimming her notes. He typed in his own diagnosis - “didn’t wrap it up, sucks to be him” - and handed it back. “Nurse, please schedule our friend here for a follow-up tomorrow afternoon.”
Leaving the whining ensign and his strange new green genital warts behind, Nino scrubbed his hands in the detox washer and was halfway to the comfort and quiet of his office when the sickbay door whooshed open, and a superior officer walked in. Great. Just great.
It was Commander Sakurai with his pointy ears and snooty attitude. But to Nino’s surprise, he was looking surprisingly uncomfortable. His uniform was rumpled, as though he’d slept in it. And he had dark bags under his eyes. More than usual anyhow. “There’s nothing I can do for you,” Nino said immediately. “Your ears are stuck that way.”
Sakurai could barely manage one of his usual scowls. “That joke has never once been amusing.”
Sakurai was within his rights to report Nino for all his teasing, but he never had. Nino assumed it was that superior attitude of his, that Nino was small fry and his remarks nothing to take to heart. If Sakurai had one. Well, Nino knew he technically had one. But the Stormchaser’s commander and chief science officer was a strange one all around. The product of a marriage between a human male and a Vulcan female, he possessed the traits of both species. The insane work ethic and arrogance (and pointy ears) of the Vulcans, and the curiosity and strong emotions of humans.
Although Sho Sakurai did everything in his power to tamp down his emotions. The Vulcans were a rather cold and unfeeling species, and they mostly gave Nino the creeps. It was unhealthy for Sho to try and suppress his human half, Nino had always thought so. One day he was going to crack, and he’d probably launch a torpedo on a planet of harmless farmers before the captain could blink. Maybe Sho’s appearance in Nino’s sickbay was the start of that mental breakdown he’d predicted since the day they’d met.
“What’s wrong? Oh-chan tell you to knock those 18-hour rotations down to 16?”
Sho walked slowly to one of the open tables, sitting down heavily. Nino knew things were serious when Sho didn’t even bother to scold him for referring to their commanding officer by such a casual nickname. He looked up at Nino.
“Can you give me something to help me sleep?”
“You sleep?” Nino replied.
“Like anyone else, Doctor.” Sakurai shifted uncomfortably. “I would appreciate your discretion in this matter.”
“Anything I dispense gets noted in your chart. Starfleet can pull medical records with just cause. Court-martial, psych eval, all that good stuff. But nobody but my staff will know about any treatments you receive here.” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb to where Nurse Yoshitaka was running the noisy decontamination machine. “She’s the only one on duty right now. She likes hot sauce.”
“Hot…sauce?” Sakurai mumbled.
“Andorian hot sauce, the spiciest possible. Puts it on everything, says the replicators can’t quite get it right so she buys a jug of it whenever we hit a station.”
“Why are you informing me of this?”
Nino shrugged. “Beats me.”
There it was, the look Nino had been waiting for. Where Sakurai finally let the human side out and looked ready to deck him. His eyes wide, his nostrils flared. But instead of launching himself at Nino’s throat, instead Sakurai crossed his arms, shaking a bit.
“Will you be assisting me today or am I wasting my time?”
Nino chuckled, heading for the medical replicator on the far wall, punching in his code. Couldn’t have the whole ship dosing themselves and downing meds like candy. Most people were incredibly stupid when it came to caring for themselves, at least that had been Nino’s life experience. “600 milligrams of Nox. Authorization Ninomiya.” The replicator worked its magic, and he was even kind enough to fill a cup with water for the commander.
Sakurai took the capsules and the water, causing Nino to wince when his teeth crunched down on them angrily.
“You’re sure it’s just sleep meds you need today, Commander?” The guy looked awful. Much worse than Mr. Green Genital Warts at least. “I can grab my scanner, give you a once over…”
Sakurai got off the table, looking close to puking. “I’m fine. I think I understand my anatomy best.”
“Of course, may as well wipe my ass with that medical degree of mine.”
The commander took a deep breath, holding out his empty water cup. “Thank you for the capsules.”
Nino watched him leave. He sensed Yoshitaka beside him a moment later, handing over the med-pad so Nino could jot down Sakurai’s visit. “What’s eating him?” Yoshitaka asked, amusement in her eyes. Sakurai only ever came to sickbay for his annual physical (which he always passed with absurdly flying colors) or in case a crewman was injured. This was a first.
“I am dying to find out.”
-
It was rare that Commander Sakurai invited anyone to his personal quarters, at least as far as Aiba knew. Not that he was truly the unfriendly jerk that some of the crew painted him as. Aiba knew better, had known the guy for years, and just because he was a Vulcan (well, half Vulcan) didn’t mean he was a bad guy. People always gave in to stereotypes. Vulcans were unfriendly. Ferengi only cared about money. The son of a Chinese restaurant had no business enrolling at Starfleet Academy.
Well, Masaki Aiba was that son and here he was now, the chief engineer of a starship. He was a long way from that restaurant his parents ran on the outskirts of the Chiba Starfleet Shipyard now, but he’d grown up obsessed with ships from a young age, watching out the window as they were built before his eyes. The Stormchaser was his baby, and even though he supposed the captain had the most attachment to it, seeing as how it was his to command, Aiba had an affection for it that ran deep.
When something was wrong in engineering - with the warp core, with the propulsion systems - he could easily diagnose and fix the problem. The computers were good at pointing out errors, and his eyes and ears were always a good backup. But when something was wrong with a friend, there wasn’t always a computer at hand. Sho had sent a message to his personal workstation in engineering, apparently wanting a little secrecy.
“Please report to my quarters at the completion of your current shift.”
So here Aiba was now, obediently marching right up to Sho’s door and pressing the little chime outside and hearing its usual chirp. Hmm, he thought instantly. Had all the chimes for personal quarters been inspected recently? The current chimes were a little dull…maybe they could be personalized? It would just take a small tweak to the interface, and then anyone from the captain to a crewman could pick a sound effect of their choice. Oh, Aiba knew exactly which song he’d choose and…
The door whooshed open to reveal the exhausted, adorably round face of Sho Sakurai. “Chief, I said you could enter.”
Aiba had gotten lost in a great idea again. The captain was always laughing at him when he did, but Sho was rarely as sympathetic. “Ah, here I am, at your service,” he said in lieu of an apology.
“Please come inside,” Sho said weakly, and Aiba’s concern for him immediately shoved the chimes idea aside in his brain. He took in Sho’s quarters slowly. Aiba would be a popular guy now, having been inside the inner sanctum. People would ask if Sho had any “weird” Vulcan stuff inside. But it looked like usual quarters to him, if slightly larger on account of Sho’s position as commander. The only personal items he saw were a pair of globes - one of Earth and one that was probably Vulcan, if Aiba had to make an educated guess from the orangey-brown color. They sat side by side on brass stands next to a bookcase Sho maintained with a collection of antique print volumes.
The lights inside were dimmed, and Aiba figured it was by choice. If they were malfunctioning, a logical person like Sho would have already put in a work order with someone from Aiba’s team. Sho sat down heavily in the chair near his personal computer terminal, sighing. It wasn’t like Sho to sigh, at least not in front of other people. He usually maintained his composure. Something was really wrong with him.
“Are you okay, Sho-chan? Do I need to get Dr. Ninomiya?”
Sho didn’t even make his usual grumpy face at Aiba’s casual address. Yep, he was in a bad way. “The doctor is already quite gleeful about my current situation. I would rather not give him any further satisfaction.”
“Aww, don’t let Nino get to you. He’s always making fun of me too.”
“Chief Aiba, you are the ringleader of a ship-wide pornography ring, are you not?”
Aiba’s mouth dropped open, and he stood awkwardly as Sho stared at him, waiting patiently for a response. Abrupt changes in a conversation topic were often Aiba’s specialty, as a man with a brain that was usually five steps ahead of his mouth. He hadn’t expected it from Sho.
“I’m…I’m not…that is to say…”
“I haven’t brought you here to censure you,” Sho said, his voice rather hesitant and almost embarrassed. “I was hoping you might have something I could watch.”
Aiba considered himself a normal guy with a normal sex drive, and being in Starfleet was just one of those jobs that kept you away from your home port for a long time. Relationships came and went, and work kept them all quite busy. It could get lonely. Sometimes you just needed something to help you out, and Aiba knew the ship’s systems like the back of his hand. It was easy to keep things under wraps, to send things out to his fellow shipmates’ personal computer terminals under the radar. But apparently he hadn’t kept it quiet enough. Or someone had squealed.
“You want me to supply you with porn?” Aiba asked, crossing his arms and trying not to laugh. Sho wasn’t a robot, of course, but Aiba sometimes had a difficult time imagining Sho Sakurai as a sexual being. What would someone like Sho get off to anyway? The periodic table?
Sho looked down, and Aiba watched him exhale heavily, looking nervous. Was he ashamed of himself? There was nothing wrong with porn, really.
“I need to release some stress,” Sho replied. “Can you be of any assistance?”
Aiba decided not to pass any further judgment on Sho’s reasons. That was his business. And it was Aiba’s business to help him out. “Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” Aiba considered himself a connoisseur of sorts, having crafted quite the collection over the years. The captain was always giving him a thumbs up after watching one of his selections.
“In particular?”
Aiba stared at Sho’s bookshelf to keep from chuckling. “A species of choice? Pairing preferences? Male and female, male and male, female and female? Threesomes? Foursomes? Orgies? Interspecies? I have this Klingon one that would blow your mind, if you’re into watching rougher stuff. It’s these two females who have a knife fight beforehand and it gets really good once they start ripping out each other’s hair and…”
“Perhaps pornography was a bad idea,” Sho mumbled. “Forget I asked…”
Aiba turned back. “Oh…are you sure? If you’re into more artsy, tasteful stuff I’ve got this one striptease thing where there’s a guy in a Starfleet admiral’s costume and he slowly undresses and mostly just shows off his muscles so…”
“Chief Aiba, thank you,” Sho said, getting to his feet, and Aiba couldn’t help but notice him wobble a bit in discomfort.
Aiba held out a hand to steady him. “Are you…Sho-chan, do you just need to get off or something? Is it shameful for Vulcans to masturbate or…”
Sho’s eyes widened and he started to physically push Aiba toward the door. Despite how sick he seemed, Aiba was amazed at how strong the commander was, pushing him so hard Aiba’s feet nearly skidded across the carpet. “This meeting never happened, are we clear?”
“Uh…sure. Sure, it never happened. I can be discreet, you know!” The door to Sho’s quarters opened. “But it’s not healthy to…”
Sho glared at him, shutting him up with an icy look as two crewmen passed by in the corridor. “Dismissed!”
The door shut in Aiba’s face and he scratched at his head, confused. It wasn’t like Sho to behave this way. He stood there a few seconds longer before nodding his head and smiling. Sho was just embarrassed, that was all. Aiba headed straight for his quarters, and Sho could thank him later after he watched the lady Klingon knife fight.
-
He was supposed to be paying attention at his console, especially since they’d just received a sub-space transmission with an updated syllabary and grammar guide for both High and Low Rigelian, and he ought to at least have a basic grasp of what was being updated in the computer data banks. But instead Lieutenant Jun Matsumoto had his chair turned halfway around so he could, in a sense, spy on the commander.
Captain Ohno had been concerned about his first officer’s health, and rightly so, but when Sakurai had returned to the bridge just as the shift change came through, all it had taken was a mumbled “I’m fine” from Sakurai to send Ohno happily off on his way to a nap. In Jun’s mind, Sho definitely didn’t look “fine” - he looked ready to go supernova any moment, and Jun didn’t want to be caught in the shockwave.
He was antsy in the captain’s chair, tapping his fingers in an unsteady rhythm against the arms of the chair as they headed through the Altair system at half impulse power, puttering around while the probes they’d launched gathered up soil samples. Sho’s strange antsy feelings were making everyone else on the bridge tense up. It was so out of character for Sho that Jun had been on the cusp of quietly messaging sickbay for several minutes now. He could send messages anywhere in the ship, and even someone as smart as Sho wouldn’t notice right away. Not that Jun liked to abuse the power of his position, but Sho was not looking like someone who ought to be in charge of a starship right now.
But the thought of going behind Sho’s back, of tattling on him like a kindergartener, was what had kept Jun from doing it so far. He’d known Sho Sakurai far longer than most of the crew of the Stormchaser had, not that Jun was too keen on any of them finding out. They’d dated, years and years ago, back at the Academy. After months of people trying to hit on Jun in the cadet commissary with that tired old line - “hey, studying xenolinguistics? Bet you’ve got a real talented tongue…” - Sho Sakurai had been a breath of fresh air.
Jun had been struggling in class, and his Vulcan professor, a real hard-ass, had suggested that Jun either get a tutor or consider another career path. What Jun hadn’t expected was for Professor T’Yoko to recommend her own son to help him. And so they spent hours and hours getting Jun’s grades and his competence up, and one thing had led to another. If only Professor T’Yoko knew just how helpful her half-human son had been.
But that was long ago, and getting assigned to different ships after graduation had ended things quite decisively until somehow they’d both ended up on the Stormchaser. Now Sho was his superior officer, and even halfway through the Stormchaser’s five year mission things remained rather awkward between them. Relationships among crew, even past ones, ought to be reported to the captain, but as far as Jun knew, Sho had never said anything to Ohno about it. Sho either was embarrassed about it or worse, didn’t even care to remember. So Jun rarely went out of his way to be buddy-buddy with the commander.
That didn’t mean, however, that Jun couldn’t be worried about him. Sho had always been awkward, probably because he spent half his waking moments trying not to be emotional and putting up a tough front, but he wasn’t doing such a good job concealing his feelings now. Jun turned back to the console when his earpiece started blabbing at him, the computer notifying him that the translator had been fully updated. He was just about to give himself a Rigelian refresher when he heard a smacking sound, turning to see Sho’s fist smash once again against the arm of the chair.
“Ensign, plot a course for Vulcan. Warp six.”
Ikuta and Kitagawa turned in their chairs to stare at him. Jun watched in surprise as Sho got to his feet, one hand on his hip as he flailed the other in their direction. “Ikuta, plot the course. Kitagawa, drive. This is your job.”
“Sir,” Ikuta said quietly, shrinking a bit in his navigator’s chair. “Why are we going to Vulcan?”
“Are you questioning a direct order, Ensign?”
“The probes? The soil samples?” Kitagawa reminded him. Apparently she and Sho had served together on another ship before, and she was one of the only people Jun had ever known who wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him. But at the same time, Jun wasn’t about to be party to a half-assed mutiny on the bridge of the Stormchaser. Ikuta and Kitagawa had every right to question what was happening. Jun fired off a quick alert message to Ninomiya in sickbay and rose from his own console.
“Commander…”
Sakurai turned, his fists clenched. And in that moment, Jun realized that Sho definitely was not fit for command. He was out of his damn mind. He even kicked the command chair in his frustration, so hard it ought to have broken a toe. He then stomped over and shoved Ikuta out of his own chair, and he hit the floor hard. “For the last time, plot a fucking course to Vulcan or I’ll plot it for you!”
“Sho-kun!” Jun shouted this time, and the other crew members on the bridge seemed to freeze in place (though some were probably quite curious as to why the comms officer had been so…familiar with a superior officer). But Jun couldn’t help it. Sho Sakurai was the last person who’d ever behave this way. There was an emergency phaser near the science console, and Jun raced for it, pulling it out and setting it on stun while Sho sat at the navigator console, angrily plotting out the route while Kitagawa sat in shock beside him, probably wondering if Sho was going to shove her out of her chair too. Ikuta sat on the floor, stunned into silence.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jun asked, moving to the front of the bridge and approaching the navigation console with the phaser held out. “Step away from the console. Right now.”
Sho looked up, quaking in anger. One of the strongest and most human of emotions. Sho had even confessed to Jun once that it was one of the most difficult to suppress. And now he’d bottled it up for way too long. “We need to go to Vulcan,” Sho said.
“Our orders are to remain in Altair space until the conference is complete,” Jun said warily. “You ought to know that, seeing as how you’re second in command of this ship. You’re not in your right mind, and you pose a danger to ship and crew.”
Sho narrowed his eyes at him. “We’re going to Vulcan.”
“Then I hereby relieve you of command, effective immediately,” Jun said, voice a little shaky. “Please step aside or I’ll be forced to take action.”
Sho rolled his eyes, an action Jun was fairly certain he hadn’t seen Sho Sakurai do since some drunken cadet at an Academy mixer had asked him if Vulcans had pointy ears AND pointy dicks.
The instant Sho’s fingers headed back to the console, ignoring Jun’s warning, he knew he had to do it. He just wished the captain was here. Jun was giving himself so much paperwork now as he took a deep breath and fired the phaser at his commander.
-
When he came to, the world seemed rather lopsided. Ah, Sho realized, blinking a few times. He’d been given a very strong dosage of tranquilizers, and his body was sluggish.
“Well well well,” came the doctor’s all-too familiar, self-satisfied voice. “Look who’s awake.”
“It’s not funny,” he heard someone murmur to his other side. The captain. Sho looked between Ohno who was standing on his left and Ninomiya on his right, and he frowned.
Sho’s memory, usually quite sharp, was rather fuzzy. But one thing stuck out, definitely. “Matsumoto shot me.”
“He only stunned you,” Ninomiya said, holding his little scanner a few inches over Sho’s body, the small device humming as it passed over his face, down his torso. “And in the nick of time, according to everyone else on the bridge.”
Sho was confused. “The last thing I remember was…I was in my quarters. Chief Aiba had been there…then he sent me…he sent…” Sho clammed up, remembering exactly what the contents of that strange video had been. Vulgar and demeaning. And incredibly violent…
Ninomiya stopped his scanning, patting Sho on the top of his head in a rather condescending fashion. “You must have forgotten about going to the bridge and relieving Oh-chan from duty and then physically assaulting poor Toma-kun when he wouldn’t follow your stupid, selfish order?”
“I did…I did what?” Sho replied, looking back and forth. Ohno usually had a calm, even expression - one that Sho had always envied, seeing as how he spent most of his life aiming for an aura of serenity and Ohno, fully human, seemed to have no trouble achieving it. Perhaps he’d been a pure-blooded Vulcan in another life, if Sho believed in such things.
“You’re sick,” Ohno said, and this time his face wasn’t calm. It was oddly determined and astonishingly serious. “And we’re going to help you get well.”
“Lovesick is a closer approximation,” Ninomiya answered in a tone he seemed to know would irritate Sho. “Isn’t it, Commander?”
Well, Sho acknowledged. It appeared that the secret was out, and his myriad attempts at concealment and relief had come to nothing. This was quite possibly the most embarrassing moment of his life, save for the time he’d thrown a tantrum just outside the Temple of Amonak when he was eight, and his mother ignored him entirely, leaving him outside corralled with some Vulcanian sheep while she worshiped without him.
“Captain, I believe my outburst on the bridge is the result of my current condition, and for that I apologize.”
“What condition?” Ohno asked.
Please, screamed the portion of his brain that Sho vehemently disliked, the obnoxious human part. Please don’t make me say it out loud…
“Our commander here is experiencing a neurochemical imbalance, Captain. It’s what is causing his strange and violent behavior,” Ninomiya said, and Sho was confounded as to why it seemed to please him so much. “He’s currently undergoing pon farr.”
“Pon what?”
Sho wished to sink through the medical table, to perhaps become one with the sickbay furniture. Anything so the captain wouldn’t know. But that was yet another illogical concept, and Sho really hated that both his human side and his Vulcan sides were warring against him.
“Pon farr,” Ninomiya explained, patting Sho on the shoulder. Yet another unsolicited and unnecessary contact. “It’s the Vulcan mating period. They can sit around and meditate, judge us humans for our silly emotions, and feel superior all they like…”
“That is profoundly untrue,” Sho protested weakly.
“…but every seven years they’re all knocked out with this pon farr. It’s a biological impulse to mate. To fuck. Basically Sho needs to fuck someone.”
“Nino, that’s a bit much,” Ohno said awkwardly, trying to look solemn when he seemed to want to laugh, and Sho was kind of irritated all the more that his captain wasn’t taking this seriously.
“It’s true though,” Ninomiya said. “And like a salmon heading upstream, our Vulcan friend here is feeling a biological compulsion to return to his birthplace and get busy.”
“It’s not…quite like that…” Sho mumbled, knowing his ears were burning.
“So that’s why you tried to change course,” Ohno said. “I’m sorry you’re dealing with all this. It must be…strange. But as you know, we have our orders and we can’t leave Altair any time soon…”
“Ah, as a medical professional, I must respectfully disagree on behalf of my patient,” Ninomiya interrupted.
“Huh?” Ohno asked. Sho finally gave up any attempts at composure, covering his face with his hand so he didn’t have to watch them talking about him like some wild animal.
“I’ve completed my scans, and as we know, our Sho-chan here is only half-Vulcan. You’d think that would lessen the degree to which this mating period would affect him. Unfortunately that is not the case. He’s only going to get worse, Oh-chan, unless we get him to Vulcan.”
“Get worse how?”
Ninomiya was surprisingly firm. “He’ll die if he’s unable to see his pon farr to its natural conclusion.”
“Whoa, seriously?”
A captain of Starfleet, replying with “Whoa, seriously?” If it was anyone else, Sho would be upset, but his captain had always been a strange person, and Sho respected him despite that. He decided not to hold his answer against him.
“So if it’s just a…mating thing,” Ohno said, clearing his throat to probably hold back yet another chuckle. “If it’s just that, Sho-kun, can’t you just um, find someone on board? Or there could be a nice brothel on Altair VI, we can do some research…”
Sho moved his hand from his face, stunned, but before he could even dignify Ohno’s solution with a response, Ninomiya burst into laughter. He nearly doubled over, hitting the med table with his hand repeatedly until he regained himself.
“He needs to go to Vulcan, Oh-chan. He has to fuck somebody on Vulcan. The whole salmon thing.”
“I’m not a fish!” Sho protested, almost grateful that Ninomiya had doped him up with some pretty powerful stuff. He might have put his fist through one of their faces, and that would be an unwise move.
But it was true. He’d undergone his last pon farr seven years prior, and thankfully he’d arranged for some shore leave to go home. His mother had tried to push marriage on him then, but he’d gone to and from Vulcan before she could catch him. This time, unfortunately, his pon farr had struck an estimated 2.67 months early, and there’d been no time to arrange for shore leave. If a Vulcan didn’t get home, it was riskier completing the pon farr elsewhere. The Vulcan atmosphere, the sheer feeling of “home” was enough to help bring him back into balance.
“Captain, allow me to borrow a shuttlecraft. I can arrange transport from Altair VI and cause no further problems,” Sho reasoned. “I will return upon completion of this period and if I am to be punished for my irrational actions, I will stand ready to accept it.”
Ohno was staring at him now, serious once more. As though a switch had been flipped, a switch that actually reminded Satoshi Ohno that he was the captain of a starship and not just a fellow with a really nice chair.
“We’ll go to Vulcan. We’ll get you there, I promise. I won’t let you die.” He looked over at Ninomiya. “How much time do we have?”
“Since our friend here has already reached the smacking people around and forgetting it stage, I’d say we have six days.”
Sho watched in astonishment as Ohno summoned the bridge. “Please plot a course for Vulcan, maximum warp.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Ikuta, his voice echoing through sickbay.
“But the soil samples,” Sho reminded him. “And Admiral Roddenberry!”
“You’re a little more important than dirt, Sho-kun,” Ohno said with a gentle smile, patting his shoulder gently.
-
Captain’s personal log, stardate 2268.7. If Sho-kun dies, I’m fucked!
-
In general, Ohno didn’t much like to disobey orders. He often thought some of his orders were a bit stupid, but he still carried them out. He didn’t have the same ambitions as others in his line of work, rising through the ranks until you were named Admiral and got a cushy desk job back at Starfleet Headquarters on Earth. But he supposed it wouldn’t be the worst way to live. Disobeying orders, however, often got captains in hot water, and he didn’t much like the idea of a court-martial and all that nonsense. It was a tricky tightrope to walk, having to justify why he’d changed course, abandoned the Altair system. If he fucked up, he’d be in deep trouble.
An ex-captain, stripped of rank and ship, would have an awful hard time getting another job, and he was saving all of his Starfleet salary to retire and build his dream boat someday, a vessel that would travel the ocean rather than the stars, letting him fish in peace until death came knocking. But who knows what they’d do with all his money if he got booted from Starfleet? Could they take it all away?
To avoid all that fear-inducing crap, Ohno instead decided to utilize the talents of his officers, who were far more conniving than Ohno could ever hope to be. It was clear that all this pon farr stuff Sho was going through was mega embarrassing, and Ohno wasn’t cruel enough to rat him out to Starfleet Command. It was what Nino had said earlier, it was because Sho was like a horny homesick fish, and that was not something everyone and their mom needed to know.
So they were covering it up.
It had been Jun’s idea to send a scrambled message to Starfleet command, stating that they’d received an emergency beacon from Vulcan requesting their assistance. Jun, a master of showmanship, had composed a rather fancy fake message himself in the traditional Vulcan language, and Chief Aiba was using his computer expertise to give the message its authenticity, embedding Vulcan codes in the transmission. And then once Sho-kun was okay, they’d come back and Ohno would say it was all a false alarm, and Aiba could write up some technobabble about the ship needing upgraded sensors, blah blah, and nobody would really read all of that.
While they were taking care of the deception, Ohno was worried about his first officer.
He’d realized now just how valuable Sho was. Of course he was the person who ought to really be in command, and he was kind of a “shadow leader” for the Stormchaser. He always remembered people’s names (and was rather tactful in the ways he gave Ohno reminders). He knew tiny, helpful details about planets and peoples and all sorts of things. He was the best right hand man Ohno could have asked for.
Without realizing it, over the past few years of their mission, Ohno had come to think of Sho Sakurai as something more than just a colleague. Sho was his friend. He volunteered to do things Ohno didn’t want to, like researching etiquette for dealing with different species or composing speeches for him to deliver when he greeted guests on the Stormchaser. He often knew what Ohno was going to do before he did it, supporting him all the way. And for Ohno’s last birthday, Sho’s gift to him had been a limited edition fishing rod made from the finest Vulcan metal, something Ohno had wanted for years but couldn’t ever find.
As soon as Nino had implied that this pon farr thing might even kill Sho, Ohno had felt lost. What would he do without him? And not just Sho’s skills as an officer, but Sho’s kindness and caring as a friend (even if he tried to look serious when he handed over gifts or chatted with him about his hobbies). It was simply not something Ohno wanted to think about, even though any day could be their last on a starship, out in the deepest reaches of space and light-years from home.
To ensure that Sho didn’t hurt himself or anyone else, Nino had ordered Sho to be confined to a private room in sickbay until their arrival at Vulcan. When Ohno had completed his current rotation, he headed there, steeling himself for what he might find. Because Sho had gotten violent, Nino was keeping close watch on his vital signs, keeping him all but catatonic with tranquilizing medication.
Nurse Yoshitaka straightened when Ohno entered sickbay that afternoon. “How’s he doing?” Ohno asked.
The nurse frowned. “Dr. Ninomiya says it’s getting more and more difficult to determine the correct dosages. Because Commander Sakurai…well, because of his heritage. The amount of tranquilizers required to subdue a Vulcan in pon farr could give a normal human permanent brain damage. It’s getting tricky.”
“Understood. Please continue to send me progress reports throughout the day.”
“Of course, Captain. The doctor is with some other patients right now but…”
“I’ll visit with Sho myself.”
He headed past the empty med tables to one of the private rooms in the rear of sickbay. These rooms were rarely used, save for patients with serious illnesses, maybe a bad reaction to an unknown plant or its spores during a planetary visit. He entered the room, the door whooshing closed behind him. It was small, nothing more than a bed and the monitors on the walls tracking Sho’s vital signs.
“Computer,” Ohno said quietly. “Frosted glass please.”
This turned the clear glass windows of the room to dark gray, giving Sho some privacy. He didn’t need to be like a zoo animal on display. From the way Sho’s chest was moving under the blankets, it seemed like he was finally sleeping. He approached the bed slowly, cautiously. Ohno didn’t know the first thing about what the monitors over the bed were saying. That’s what Nino was for. But he couldn’t help frowning at the sight of his friend.
Seriously, what the hell was up with Vulcans? All they were about was logic, about shunning emotions. And for some reason, Sho preferred to embrace that side of himself. It was remarkable they only had these crazy bursts every seven years. He wondered what it might be like, dealing with what Sho-kun was going through. Of course Ohno had been desperately horny in his life before, and he wasn’t ashamed of that, but obviously not to the point of a psychotic break. He couldn’t even imagine needing to have sex so badly he might die.
He stood at Sho’s bedside, frowning. “We’ll get this all figured out. Just…don’t die okay?”
Sho obviously had no response, save for a rather noisy snore that pierced the silence of the room. That at least made Ohno smile.
The door opened, and Nino came in, his scanner in hand. “I don’t think you coming in here to privately jack him off is going to be enough, but bless you for trying. Gotta love that chain of command.”
Ohno took a step back from the bed. “I’m the captain, you know. You can’t talk to me that way.”
Nino just activated his scanner, humming quietly as he checked Sho’s vital signs. “It was a joke. Keep things lighthearted around here, ha ha.”
“I wouldn’t do something like that…”
Nino grinned. “Methinks the captain protests too much.”
Ohno hesitated for a moment, not that he’d actually come here to stick his hand in Sho’s pants or anything. “…you’re sure it wouldn’t help though? I mean, if there was someone Sho-kun liked and could be with for now. Until we get to Vulcan…”
Nino turned his scanner off, shaking his head. “Been doing some reading. Or more like I’ve had Nurse Yoshitaka do some reading and summarize it for me. Seems like it’s mostly a Vulcan thing, a bond with a mate kind of thing. Don’t have another Vulcan on the crew manifest right now to stand in and be pimped out to him. Not sure a human would cut it unless they had a preexisting thing with him. And I’ve never known Sakurai to have a thing for anyone, have you?”
Something started nagging at Ohno, almost as soon as Nino said so. What was it, what was it…
“Jun knows Sho’s mom.”
Nino was confused. “Huh?”
Ohno scratched his head. He hadn’t told his officers everything about Sho’s condition, it wasn’t their business. They just knew that going to Vulcan obviously had something to do with the first officer. But then Jun had volunteered to send a message to Starfleet Academy, to notify Sakurai’s mother that Sho was unwell and they were going to Vulcan. It hadn’t sounded weird at the time, but how had Jun known exactly where the woman worked? Because there was no way Matsumoto would have pulled up Sakurai’s personnel file without requesting permission from Ohno first. He’d simply known already…
He explained this to Nino, who looked even more confused. “Him and Matsumoto? Seriously?”
-
“Respectfully, sir, that’s none of your business,” Jun Matsumoto said, his discomfort obvious as he sat there in sickbay undergoing the most awkward bit of questioning Nino had ever witnessed.
It was pretty clear to Nino that Sakurai’s illness had Ohno scared shitless. Sakurai did a hell of a lot around the Stormchaser, and there was probably nobody that Ohno trusted more. But this was a rather extreme ask, even for the most loyal of his crew. They were still more than 12 hours out from Vulcan, and Ohno was so worried about losing Sho to the Vulcan equivalent of blue balls that he was seriously asking Matsumoto if he and Sakurai had fucked before.
Well, he asked in slightly more delicate terms. He wasn’t Nino, after all.
“Nino says Sho has to be with someone he has a bond with, at least to make the pon farr symptoms stop.”
“And you think because I knew that T’Yoko works for Starfleet Academy that means Sakurai and I are together? Sorry to disappoint, sir, but T’Yoko is one of the quadrant’s leading scholars in xenolinguistics. I studied under her.”
Ohno leaned forward, seeming desperate. “Maybe you could just snuggle with him for a while?”
Matsumoto launched himself from his chair, looking enraged. Nino just hoped they didn’t have two cases of pon farr floating around the Stormchaser now. Nothing in the journals and case studies he’d read implied that such a thing was contagious or able to be passed on to humans.
“Snuggle with him?” Jun screeched, getting up in his captain’s face. “Have you gone crazy?”
Ohno stood up from his own seat, doing his best to intimidate his comms officer. This was of course kind of difficult because not only was Matsumoto several inches taller than him, but Satoshi Ohno was kind of the opposite of scary. “Captain Marshmallow” was a term that often got bandied around the crew mess hall.
“I have not gone crazy,” Ohno insisted, hands on his hips. “I’m looking for all possible solutions to a problem. It’s an unconventional solution, I’ll grant you that, but it’s better to ask you than to just ignore it! If it was you, Lieutenant, sick with an illness like that, I’d drop everything to save your life!”
Ah, no he wouldn’t, Nino knew. Sakurai was a special case for the captain, whether Ohno was consciously aware of it or not. At this point it was best if Nino intervened, and he did so, stepping over to rest his hand on Jun’s shoulder to keep him from muttering curses at the captain in one of the dozens of languages he knew.
“We’re not saying you have to go in there and get horizontal with him,” Nino said. “It’s not an order. This is a simple inquiry, and if there’s nothing going on between you at present, then I highly doubt it’s going to make much difference. But if you and the commander are currently involved then…”
“We are not currently involved,” Matsumoto said, gritting his teeth. “But I do know him, and if he was involved with anyone on board, he would have already told you, Captain. Protocol is everything to him.”
“You see, Captain?” Nino replied. “Sho-chan will just have to sit tight for the rest of the trip.”
“Matsumoto, you’re dismissed,” Ohno said, looking a little embarrassed. “And, uh, sorry.”
Nino held back a smile as Matsumoto left sickbay in quite a huff. “Well, I think you’ve just made an enemy for life.”
Ohno sighed. “Now what are we going to do?”
“We just get the fish back to his pond and go from there.”
part two
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Sakurai Sho/Ohno Satoshi (somewhat implied); Sakurai Sho/Matsumoto Jun (past)
Summary: “Our commander here is experiencing a neurochemical imbalance, Captain. It’s what is causing his strange and violent behavior,” Ninomiya said. “He’s currently undergoing pon farr.”
Notes/Warnings: For boblemon as part of the jpnforph fundraiser. It is also still Sho’s birthday in my timezone, so hurray! Happy birthday Sho! This very strange story is a Star Trek AU, but it’s my hope that non-Trek fans might still enjoy it. If you at least know who Spock is, that should help you. Yes, Sho is a Vulcan because why not. This story is entirely based on the plot of Amok Time, an episode from the original Star Trek series (the Kirk and Spock one).
Names are written [First Name][Last Name] to match how the series usually addresses people from Earth, including Japanese characters like Hikaru Sulu and Hoshi Sato. But since it's Arashi, they're still very friendly with one another (there's -kuns and -chans flying all over the place). Any Trek canon errors are due to laziness, most likely. Live long and prosper, y’all.
Captain’s log, stardate 2268.5. The Stormchaser has successfully delivered Admiral Roddenberry to the economic summit on Altair VI. Upon conclusion of the summit in eight days, we are due to retrieve the admiral and return him to Starbase 192. In the meantime, we have been tasked with analysis of soil samples from various asteroids here in the Altair system.
-
Captain’s personal log, stardate 2268.5. Soil samples are really boring.
-
Ohno stood up straight, hoping he looked somewhat professional as Admiral Roddenberry and his staffers dematerialized. Once the bigwigs had vanished from the transporter pads in the usual shimmer of light, he exhaled heavily, tugging at the collar of his uniform jacket.
Behind him, he heard Chief Aiba chuckling. “It’s like having the professor breathing down your neck during an exam, huh?”
Ohno turned, nodding as Aiba’s swift fingers traveled across the console, ensuring that their precious human cargo made it planetside in one piece. And good riddance to the admiral. Having people on board who outranked him always made him nervous. They always asked questions about how he ran his ship, and he didn’t much care for their meddling. “If this was my ship…” they’d always start blabbing, men and women who hadn’t sat in a captain’s chair in a decade.
Satoshi Ohno, captain of the U.S.S. Stormchaser, was not what you’d call Starfleet’s finest. To this day, it still stunned him that Starfleet had even promoted him this high, given what many back in his Academy days had called his “appalling lack of interest in command.” But that was neither here nor there, and he was already halfway through his first five-year mission as captain. He suspected he’d be given another one, simply because he hadn’t screwed anything up too badly yet.
The Stormchaser was not the fleet’s fastest, nor its toughest, nor was it the fleet’s flagship. It had been months since they’d even had to fire a warning shot. Ohno, of course, preferred things that way. He knew that cadets graduating from Starfleet Academy dreaded getting assigned to the Stormchaser. VIP transport half the time. Scanning stuff, launching probes, and updating star charts the rest. But even though it was boring work, Ohno was fine with it. The last thing he wanted to do was be responsible for first contact with some alien species or take on a Klingon bird-of-prey.
Boring kept him and his crew alive.
He leaned against the transporter console heavily. “Eight days of freedom,” he murmured happily.
Aiba beamed from ear to ear. “I was hoping, sir, that I could work on the food replicators this week…”
Ohno looked up. If there was one thing his chief engineer liked to do, it was tinker with stuff that was already working correctly. Aiba was a smart guy, Ohno had always liked that about him, but he could be a little overenthusiastic. “I’ll…I’ll think about it. Set up some time with me later, we’ll chat…”
Aiba’s smile faltered the slightest bit. He was the only person on Ohno’s crew of more than 300 who thought the replicators ought to be able to make more traditional Chinese dishes. But everything else that came out of the replicator was just fine, and Ohno didn’t want any of Aiba’s tinkering to result in some culinary strangeness. It had been at least four months now that he’d dodged Aiba’s request, and he had yet to feel too bad about it.
“I’ll be on the bridge,” he said, knowing Aiba wasn’t the type to disobey and delay him. He headed out of the transporter room, prepared for eight days of soil samples. Not that he had to do much more than check in on the science team’s progress. They could handle all that stuff just fine. It was probably the best thing about being the captain - he’d gotten incredibly good at delegating.
He shut his eyes, peacefully enjoying the gentle hum of the turbolift as it carried him up to the bridge. His peace was slightly interrupted when the doors whooshed open, and he discovered Lieutenant Matsumoto was in his chair. Nobody had told him about a change. Ensign Kitagawa was in her usual place at the helm, Ikuta beside her in the navigator’s chair. But then Matsumoto’s place at the comms station was filled with a random ensign. Well, Ohno kind of recognized her face, but he’d always been awful with names.
Matsumoto got to his feet as soon as Ohno came close. Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Captain on the bridge,” his communications officer announced with a rather haughty flip of his hair.
He waved his hand. “Get back to work.” And as usual, they did so.
Matsumoto stayed beside him as Ohno took his seat, gazing out the view screen. Matsumoto still had them in orbit of Altair VI, the planet’s white cloudy atmosphere below them looking almost like a fluffy mattress to Ohno. Hmm, a nap soon would be a good way to wrap up the afternoon. He glanced over to yet another unfamiliar ensign sitting at the science console to the right of his captain’s chair.
“Commander Sakurai was feeling under the weather, sir,” Matsumoto said. “He left for his quarters about an hour ago.”
Ohno raised an eyebrow at that. Sho? Leaving the bridge of his own accord? It usually took a direct order from Ohno to get him to leave. His first officer was a workaholic, and probably the main reason the U.S.S. Stormchaser ever got anything accomplished. “He okay?”
He saw Matsumoto try and aim for a somewhat diplomatic look, but he’d always had an expressive face. Ohno saw the slightest quirk to his lips before he answered. “I…believe so, sir. I’m sure if it’s serious he’ll go to sickbay.”
“I’ll go bug him later,” Ohno decided. He lowered his voice so the others wouldn’t overhear. “Jun, seriously, is he going to be alright?”
It was Sho who was supposed to be coordinating the probes for the soil samples. Ohno didn’t know the first thing about it, and he didn’t want to look like an idiot. He knew the crew snickered about him behind his back sometimes.
Matsumoto leaned over. “He looked like he was going to throw up. His ears were bright red…”
Ohno was confused. “I’ve never seen him get sick before. Doesn’t he have like a super immune system?” he whispered.
“That’s what I thought too,” Matsumoto whispered back. “I thought Vulcans were immune to a whole bunch of stuff.”
He sat up straight in his chair, clearing his throat. “Lieutenant, thank you for the report. Please return to your station.”
Matsumoto walked away, and Ohno gripped the arms of his chair. Sho Sakurai, out of commission? That sort of thing was impossible. Or so he’d always counted on.
-
“Will it go away?” the ensign asked in a rather adorable panic, squirming around on the table while Nurse Yoshitaka jotted things down in his chart. “Or am I going to have those down there forever?”
Kazunari Ninomiya, ship’s doctor, could only load up his hypospray device with a fancy cocktail of antibiotics for now. “Well the lesson learned, Ensign, should be ‘maybe I shouldn’t stick my dick in that,’ right?”
Yoshitaka chuckled under her breath, coughing and looking away while the poor ensign scowled up at him. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a really awful bedside manner, Dr. Ninomiya?”
“You’re the fourth today,” Nino replied, tilting the ensign’s head back so he could administer the hypo. “Hold still and shut up.”
Truth be told, this was a new sexually transmitted infection. The ensigns and crewmen were always catching the weirdest new shit when they went off on shore leave. Nino supposed that he could be earning some more respect at Starfleet Medical for writing articles about these things, but leave that for the nerds. He did his part, jotting down his notes and sending them off along with samples of the strange viruses and bacteria that found their way into the Stormchaser crew’s bloodstream.
“Come back tomorrow, and we’ll see what works and what doesn’t. Then we’ll figure out a treatment plan,” he said, taking the med-pad from Yoshitaka’s hands and skimming her notes. He typed in his own diagnosis - “didn’t wrap it up, sucks to be him” - and handed it back. “Nurse, please schedule our friend here for a follow-up tomorrow afternoon.”
Leaving the whining ensign and his strange new green genital warts behind, Nino scrubbed his hands in the detox washer and was halfway to the comfort and quiet of his office when the sickbay door whooshed open, and a superior officer walked in. Great. Just great.
It was Commander Sakurai with his pointy ears and snooty attitude. But to Nino’s surprise, he was looking surprisingly uncomfortable. His uniform was rumpled, as though he’d slept in it. And he had dark bags under his eyes. More than usual anyhow. “There’s nothing I can do for you,” Nino said immediately. “Your ears are stuck that way.”
Sakurai could barely manage one of his usual scowls. “That joke has never once been amusing.”
Sakurai was within his rights to report Nino for all his teasing, but he never had. Nino assumed it was that superior attitude of his, that Nino was small fry and his remarks nothing to take to heart. If Sakurai had one. Well, Nino knew he technically had one. But the Stormchaser’s commander and chief science officer was a strange one all around. The product of a marriage between a human male and a Vulcan female, he possessed the traits of both species. The insane work ethic and arrogance (and pointy ears) of the Vulcans, and the curiosity and strong emotions of humans.
Although Sho Sakurai did everything in his power to tamp down his emotions. The Vulcans were a rather cold and unfeeling species, and they mostly gave Nino the creeps. It was unhealthy for Sho to try and suppress his human half, Nino had always thought so. One day he was going to crack, and he’d probably launch a torpedo on a planet of harmless farmers before the captain could blink. Maybe Sho’s appearance in Nino’s sickbay was the start of that mental breakdown he’d predicted since the day they’d met.
“What’s wrong? Oh-chan tell you to knock those 18-hour rotations down to 16?”
Sho walked slowly to one of the open tables, sitting down heavily. Nino knew things were serious when Sho didn’t even bother to scold him for referring to their commanding officer by such a casual nickname. He looked up at Nino.
“Can you give me something to help me sleep?”
“You sleep?” Nino replied.
“Like anyone else, Doctor.” Sakurai shifted uncomfortably. “I would appreciate your discretion in this matter.”
“Anything I dispense gets noted in your chart. Starfleet can pull medical records with just cause. Court-martial, psych eval, all that good stuff. But nobody but my staff will know about any treatments you receive here.” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb to where Nurse Yoshitaka was running the noisy decontamination machine. “She’s the only one on duty right now. She likes hot sauce.”
“Hot…sauce?” Sakurai mumbled.
“Andorian hot sauce, the spiciest possible. Puts it on everything, says the replicators can’t quite get it right so she buys a jug of it whenever we hit a station.”
“Why are you informing me of this?”
Nino shrugged. “Beats me.”
There it was, the look Nino had been waiting for. Where Sakurai finally let the human side out and looked ready to deck him. His eyes wide, his nostrils flared. But instead of launching himself at Nino’s throat, instead Sakurai crossed his arms, shaking a bit.
“Will you be assisting me today or am I wasting my time?”
Nino chuckled, heading for the medical replicator on the far wall, punching in his code. Couldn’t have the whole ship dosing themselves and downing meds like candy. Most people were incredibly stupid when it came to caring for themselves, at least that had been Nino’s life experience. “600 milligrams of Nox. Authorization Ninomiya.” The replicator worked its magic, and he was even kind enough to fill a cup with water for the commander.
Sakurai took the capsules and the water, causing Nino to wince when his teeth crunched down on them angrily.
“You’re sure it’s just sleep meds you need today, Commander?” The guy looked awful. Much worse than Mr. Green Genital Warts at least. “I can grab my scanner, give you a once over…”
Sakurai got off the table, looking close to puking. “I’m fine. I think I understand my anatomy best.”
“Of course, may as well wipe my ass with that medical degree of mine.”
The commander took a deep breath, holding out his empty water cup. “Thank you for the capsules.”
Nino watched him leave. He sensed Yoshitaka beside him a moment later, handing over the med-pad so Nino could jot down Sakurai’s visit. “What’s eating him?” Yoshitaka asked, amusement in her eyes. Sakurai only ever came to sickbay for his annual physical (which he always passed with absurdly flying colors) or in case a crewman was injured. This was a first.
“I am dying to find out.”
-
It was rare that Commander Sakurai invited anyone to his personal quarters, at least as far as Aiba knew. Not that he was truly the unfriendly jerk that some of the crew painted him as. Aiba knew better, had known the guy for years, and just because he was a Vulcan (well, half Vulcan) didn’t mean he was a bad guy. People always gave in to stereotypes. Vulcans were unfriendly. Ferengi only cared about money. The son of a Chinese restaurant had no business enrolling at Starfleet Academy.
Well, Masaki Aiba was that son and here he was now, the chief engineer of a starship. He was a long way from that restaurant his parents ran on the outskirts of the Chiba Starfleet Shipyard now, but he’d grown up obsessed with ships from a young age, watching out the window as they were built before his eyes. The Stormchaser was his baby, and even though he supposed the captain had the most attachment to it, seeing as how it was his to command, Aiba had an affection for it that ran deep.
When something was wrong in engineering - with the warp core, with the propulsion systems - he could easily diagnose and fix the problem. The computers were good at pointing out errors, and his eyes and ears were always a good backup. But when something was wrong with a friend, there wasn’t always a computer at hand. Sho had sent a message to his personal workstation in engineering, apparently wanting a little secrecy.
“Please report to my quarters at the completion of your current shift.”
So here Aiba was now, obediently marching right up to Sho’s door and pressing the little chime outside and hearing its usual chirp. Hmm, he thought instantly. Had all the chimes for personal quarters been inspected recently? The current chimes were a little dull…maybe they could be personalized? It would just take a small tweak to the interface, and then anyone from the captain to a crewman could pick a sound effect of their choice. Oh, Aiba knew exactly which song he’d choose and…
The door whooshed open to reveal the exhausted, adorably round face of Sho Sakurai. “Chief, I said you could enter.”
Aiba had gotten lost in a great idea again. The captain was always laughing at him when he did, but Sho was rarely as sympathetic. “Ah, here I am, at your service,” he said in lieu of an apology.
“Please come inside,” Sho said weakly, and Aiba’s concern for him immediately shoved the chimes idea aside in his brain. He took in Sho’s quarters slowly. Aiba would be a popular guy now, having been inside the inner sanctum. People would ask if Sho had any “weird” Vulcan stuff inside. But it looked like usual quarters to him, if slightly larger on account of Sho’s position as commander. The only personal items he saw were a pair of globes - one of Earth and one that was probably Vulcan, if Aiba had to make an educated guess from the orangey-brown color. They sat side by side on brass stands next to a bookcase Sho maintained with a collection of antique print volumes.
The lights inside were dimmed, and Aiba figured it was by choice. If they were malfunctioning, a logical person like Sho would have already put in a work order with someone from Aiba’s team. Sho sat down heavily in the chair near his personal computer terminal, sighing. It wasn’t like Sho to sigh, at least not in front of other people. He usually maintained his composure. Something was really wrong with him.
“Are you okay, Sho-chan? Do I need to get Dr. Ninomiya?”
Sho didn’t even make his usual grumpy face at Aiba’s casual address. Yep, he was in a bad way. “The doctor is already quite gleeful about my current situation. I would rather not give him any further satisfaction.”
“Aww, don’t let Nino get to you. He’s always making fun of me too.”
“Chief Aiba, you are the ringleader of a ship-wide pornography ring, are you not?”
Aiba’s mouth dropped open, and he stood awkwardly as Sho stared at him, waiting patiently for a response. Abrupt changes in a conversation topic were often Aiba’s specialty, as a man with a brain that was usually five steps ahead of his mouth. He hadn’t expected it from Sho.
“I’m…I’m not…that is to say…”
“I haven’t brought you here to censure you,” Sho said, his voice rather hesitant and almost embarrassed. “I was hoping you might have something I could watch.”
Aiba considered himself a normal guy with a normal sex drive, and being in Starfleet was just one of those jobs that kept you away from your home port for a long time. Relationships came and went, and work kept them all quite busy. It could get lonely. Sometimes you just needed something to help you out, and Aiba knew the ship’s systems like the back of his hand. It was easy to keep things under wraps, to send things out to his fellow shipmates’ personal computer terminals under the radar. But apparently he hadn’t kept it quiet enough. Or someone had squealed.
“You want me to supply you with porn?” Aiba asked, crossing his arms and trying not to laugh. Sho wasn’t a robot, of course, but Aiba sometimes had a difficult time imagining Sho Sakurai as a sexual being. What would someone like Sho get off to anyway? The periodic table?
Sho looked down, and Aiba watched him exhale heavily, looking nervous. Was he ashamed of himself? There was nothing wrong with porn, really.
“I need to release some stress,” Sho replied. “Can you be of any assistance?”
Aiba decided not to pass any further judgment on Sho’s reasons. That was his business. And it was Aiba’s business to help him out. “Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” Aiba considered himself a connoisseur of sorts, having crafted quite the collection over the years. The captain was always giving him a thumbs up after watching one of his selections.
“In particular?”
Aiba stared at Sho’s bookshelf to keep from chuckling. “A species of choice? Pairing preferences? Male and female, male and male, female and female? Threesomes? Foursomes? Orgies? Interspecies? I have this Klingon one that would blow your mind, if you’re into watching rougher stuff. It’s these two females who have a knife fight beforehand and it gets really good once they start ripping out each other’s hair and…”
“Perhaps pornography was a bad idea,” Sho mumbled. “Forget I asked…”
Aiba turned back. “Oh…are you sure? If you’re into more artsy, tasteful stuff I’ve got this one striptease thing where there’s a guy in a Starfleet admiral’s costume and he slowly undresses and mostly just shows off his muscles so…”
“Chief Aiba, thank you,” Sho said, getting to his feet, and Aiba couldn’t help but notice him wobble a bit in discomfort.
Aiba held out a hand to steady him. “Are you…Sho-chan, do you just need to get off or something? Is it shameful for Vulcans to masturbate or…”
Sho’s eyes widened and he started to physically push Aiba toward the door. Despite how sick he seemed, Aiba was amazed at how strong the commander was, pushing him so hard Aiba’s feet nearly skidded across the carpet. “This meeting never happened, are we clear?”
“Uh…sure. Sure, it never happened. I can be discreet, you know!” The door to Sho’s quarters opened. “But it’s not healthy to…”
Sho glared at him, shutting him up with an icy look as two crewmen passed by in the corridor. “Dismissed!”
The door shut in Aiba’s face and he scratched at his head, confused. It wasn’t like Sho to behave this way. He stood there a few seconds longer before nodding his head and smiling. Sho was just embarrassed, that was all. Aiba headed straight for his quarters, and Sho could thank him later after he watched the lady Klingon knife fight.
-
He was supposed to be paying attention at his console, especially since they’d just received a sub-space transmission with an updated syllabary and grammar guide for both High and Low Rigelian, and he ought to at least have a basic grasp of what was being updated in the computer data banks. But instead Lieutenant Jun Matsumoto had his chair turned halfway around so he could, in a sense, spy on the commander.
Captain Ohno had been concerned about his first officer’s health, and rightly so, but when Sakurai had returned to the bridge just as the shift change came through, all it had taken was a mumbled “I’m fine” from Sakurai to send Ohno happily off on his way to a nap. In Jun’s mind, Sho definitely didn’t look “fine” - he looked ready to go supernova any moment, and Jun didn’t want to be caught in the shockwave.
He was antsy in the captain’s chair, tapping his fingers in an unsteady rhythm against the arms of the chair as they headed through the Altair system at half impulse power, puttering around while the probes they’d launched gathered up soil samples. Sho’s strange antsy feelings were making everyone else on the bridge tense up. It was so out of character for Sho that Jun had been on the cusp of quietly messaging sickbay for several minutes now. He could send messages anywhere in the ship, and even someone as smart as Sho wouldn’t notice right away. Not that Jun liked to abuse the power of his position, but Sho was not looking like someone who ought to be in charge of a starship right now.
But the thought of going behind Sho’s back, of tattling on him like a kindergartener, was what had kept Jun from doing it so far. He’d known Sho Sakurai far longer than most of the crew of the Stormchaser had, not that Jun was too keen on any of them finding out. They’d dated, years and years ago, back at the Academy. After months of people trying to hit on Jun in the cadet commissary with that tired old line - “hey, studying xenolinguistics? Bet you’ve got a real talented tongue…” - Sho Sakurai had been a breath of fresh air.
Jun had been struggling in class, and his Vulcan professor, a real hard-ass, had suggested that Jun either get a tutor or consider another career path. What Jun hadn’t expected was for Professor T’Yoko to recommend her own son to help him. And so they spent hours and hours getting Jun’s grades and his competence up, and one thing had led to another. If only Professor T’Yoko knew just how helpful her half-human son had been.
But that was long ago, and getting assigned to different ships after graduation had ended things quite decisively until somehow they’d both ended up on the Stormchaser. Now Sho was his superior officer, and even halfway through the Stormchaser’s five year mission things remained rather awkward between them. Relationships among crew, even past ones, ought to be reported to the captain, but as far as Jun knew, Sho had never said anything to Ohno about it. Sho either was embarrassed about it or worse, didn’t even care to remember. So Jun rarely went out of his way to be buddy-buddy with the commander.
That didn’t mean, however, that Jun couldn’t be worried about him. Sho had always been awkward, probably because he spent half his waking moments trying not to be emotional and putting up a tough front, but he wasn’t doing such a good job concealing his feelings now. Jun turned back to the console when his earpiece started blabbing at him, the computer notifying him that the translator had been fully updated. He was just about to give himself a Rigelian refresher when he heard a smacking sound, turning to see Sho’s fist smash once again against the arm of the chair.
“Ensign, plot a course for Vulcan. Warp six.”
Ikuta and Kitagawa turned in their chairs to stare at him. Jun watched in surprise as Sho got to his feet, one hand on his hip as he flailed the other in their direction. “Ikuta, plot the course. Kitagawa, drive. This is your job.”
“Sir,” Ikuta said quietly, shrinking a bit in his navigator’s chair. “Why are we going to Vulcan?”
“Are you questioning a direct order, Ensign?”
“The probes? The soil samples?” Kitagawa reminded him. Apparently she and Sho had served together on another ship before, and she was one of the only people Jun had ever known who wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him. But at the same time, Jun wasn’t about to be party to a half-assed mutiny on the bridge of the Stormchaser. Ikuta and Kitagawa had every right to question what was happening. Jun fired off a quick alert message to Ninomiya in sickbay and rose from his own console.
“Commander…”
Sakurai turned, his fists clenched. And in that moment, Jun realized that Sho definitely was not fit for command. He was out of his damn mind. He even kicked the command chair in his frustration, so hard it ought to have broken a toe. He then stomped over and shoved Ikuta out of his own chair, and he hit the floor hard. “For the last time, plot a fucking course to Vulcan or I’ll plot it for you!”
“Sho-kun!” Jun shouted this time, and the other crew members on the bridge seemed to freeze in place (though some were probably quite curious as to why the comms officer had been so…familiar with a superior officer). But Jun couldn’t help it. Sho Sakurai was the last person who’d ever behave this way. There was an emergency phaser near the science console, and Jun raced for it, pulling it out and setting it on stun while Sho sat at the navigator console, angrily plotting out the route while Kitagawa sat in shock beside him, probably wondering if Sho was going to shove her out of her chair too. Ikuta sat on the floor, stunned into silence.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jun asked, moving to the front of the bridge and approaching the navigation console with the phaser held out. “Step away from the console. Right now.”
Sho looked up, quaking in anger. One of the strongest and most human of emotions. Sho had even confessed to Jun once that it was one of the most difficult to suppress. And now he’d bottled it up for way too long. “We need to go to Vulcan,” Sho said.
“Our orders are to remain in Altair space until the conference is complete,” Jun said warily. “You ought to know that, seeing as how you’re second in command of this ship. You’re not in your right mind, and you pose a danger to ship and crew.”
Sho narrowed his eyes at him. “We’re going to Vulcan.”
“Then I hereby relieve you of command, effective immediately,” Jun said, voice a little shaky. “Please step aside or I’ll be forced to take action.”
Sho rolled his eyes, an action Jun was fairly certain he hadn’t seen Sho Sakurai do since some drunken cadet at an Academy mixer had asked him if Vulcans had pointy ears AND pointy dicks.
The instant Sho’s fingers headed back to the console, ignoring Jun’s warning, he knew he had to do it. He just wished the captain was here. Jun was giving himself so much paperwork now as he took a deep breath and fired the phaser at his commander.
-
When he came to, the world seemed rather lopsided. Ah, Sho realized, blinking a few times. He’d been given a very strong dosage of tranquilizers, and his body was sluggish.
“Well well well,” came the doctor’s all-too familiar, self-satisfied voice. “Look who’s awake.”
“It’s not funny,” he heard someone murmur to his other side. The captain. Sho looked between Ohno who was standing on his left and Ninomiya on his right, and he frowned.
Sho’s memory, usually quite sharp, was rather fuzzy. But one thing stuck out, definitely. “Matsumoto shot me.”
“He only stunned you,” Ninomiya said, holding his little scanner a few inches over Sho’s body, the small device humming as it passed over his face, down his torso. “And in the nick of time, according to everyone else on the bridge.”
Sho was confused. “The last thing I remember was…I was in my quarters. Chief Aiba had been there…then he sent me…he sent…” Sho clammed up, remembering exactly what the contents of that strange video had been. Vulgar and demeaning. And incredibly violent…
Ninomiya stopped his scanning, patting Sho on the top of his head in a rather condescending fashion. “You must have forgotten about going to the bridge and relieving Oh-chan from duty and then physically assaulting poor Toma-kun when he wouldn’t follow your stupid, selfish order?”
“I did…I did what?” Sho replied, looking back and forth. Ohno usually had a calm, even expression - one that Sho had always envied, seeing as how he spent most of his life aiming for an aura of serenity and Ohno, fully human, seemed to have no trouble achieving it. Perhaps he’d been a pure-blooded Vulcan in another life, if Sho believed in such things.
“You’re sick,” Ohno said, and this time his face wasn’t calm. It was oddly determined and astonishingly serious. “And we’re going to help you get well.”
“Lovesick is a closer approximation,” Ninomiya answered in a tone he seemed to know would irritate Sho. “Isn’t it, Commander?”
Well, Sho acknowledged. It appeared that the secret was out, and his myriad attempts at concealment and relief had come to nothing. This was quite possibly the most embarrassing moment of his life, save for the time he’d thrown a tantrum just outside the Temple of Amonak when he was eight, and his mother ignored him entirely, leaving him outside corralled with some Vulcanian sheep while she worshiped without him.
“Captain, I believe my outburst on the bridge is the result of my current condition, and for that I apologize.”
“What condition?” Ohno asked.
Please, screamed the portion of his brain that Sho vehemently disliked, the obnoxious human part. Please don’t make me say it out loud…
“Our commander here is experiencing a neurochemical imbalance, Captain. It’s what is causing his strange and violent behavior,” Ninomiya said, and Sho was confounded as to why it seemed to please him so much. “He’s currently undergoing pon farr.”
“Pon what?”
Sho wished to sink through the medical table, to perhaps become one with the sickbay furniture. Anything so the captain wouldn’t know. But that was yet another illogical concept, and Sho really hated that both his human side and his Vulcan sides were warring against him.
“Pon farr,” Ninomiya explained, patting Sho on the shoulder. Yet another unsolicited and unnecessary contact. “It’s the Vulcan mating period. They can sit around and meditate, judge us humans for our silly emotions, and feel superior all they like…”
“That is profoundly untrue,” Sho protested weakly.
“…but every seven years they’re all knocked out with this pon farr. It’s a biological impulse to mate. To fuck. Basically Sho needs to fuck someone.”
“Nino, that’s a bit much,” Ohno said awkwardly, trying to look solemn when he seemed to want to laugh, and Sho was kind of irritated all the more that his captain wasn’t taking this seriously.
“It’s true though,” Ninomiya said. “And like a salmon heading upstream, our Vulcan friend here is feeling a biological compulsion to return to his birthplace and get busy.”
“It’s not…quite like that…” Sho mumbled, knowing his ears were burning.
“So that’s why you tried to change course,” Ohno said. “I’m sorry you’re dealing with all this. It must be…strange. But as you know, we have our orders and we can’t leave Altair any time soon…”
“Ah, as a medical professional, I must respectfully disagree on behalf of my patient,” Ninomiya interrupted.
“Huh?” Ohno asked. Sho finally gave up any attempts at composure, covering his face with his hand so he didn’t have to watch them talking about him like some wild animal.
“I’ve completed my scans, and as we know, our Sho-chan here is only half-Vulcan. You’d think that would lessen the degree to which this mating period would affect him. Unfortunately that is not the case. He’s only going to get worse, Oh-chan, unless we get him to Vulcan.”
“Get worse how?”
Ninomiya was surprisingly firm. “He’ll die if he’s unable to see his pon farr to its natural conclusion.”
“Whoa, seriously?”
A captain of Starfleet, replying with “Whoa, seriously?” If it was anyone else, Sho would be upset, but his captain had always been a strange person, and Sho respected him despite that. He decided not to hold his answer against him.
“So if it’s just a…mating thing,” Ohno said, clearing his throat to probably hold back yet another chuckle. “If it’s just that, Sho-kun, can’t you just um, find someone on board? Or there could be a nice brothel on Altair VI, we can do some research…”
Sho moved his hand from his face, stunned, but before he could even dignify Ohno’s solution with a response, Ninomiya burst into laughter. He nearly doubled over, hitting the med table with his hand repeatedly until he regained himself.
“He needs to go to Vulcan, Oh-chan. He has to fuck somebody on Vulcan. The whole salmon thing.”
“I’m not a fish!” Sho protested, almost grateful that Ninomiya had doped him up with some pretty powerful stuff. He might have put his fist through one of their faces, and that would be an unwise move.
But it was true. He’d undergone his last pon farr seven years prior, and thankfully he’d arranged for some shore leave to go home. His mother had tried to push marriage on him then, but he’d gone to and from Vulcan before she could catch him. This time, unfortunately, his pon farr had struck an estimated 2.67 months early, and there’d been no time to arrange for shore leave. If a Vulcan didn’t get home, it was riskier completing the pon farr elsewhere. The Vulcan atmosphere, the sheer feeling of “home” was enough to help bring him back into balance.
“Captain, allow me to borrow a shuttlecraft. I can arrange transport from Altair VI and cause no further problems,” Sho reasoned. “I will return upon completion of this period and if I am to be punished for my irrational actions, I will stand ready to accept it.”
Ohno was staring at him now, serious once more. As though a switch had been flipped, a switch that actually reminded Satoshi Ohno that he was the captain of a starship and not just a fellow with a really nice chair.
“We’ll go to Vulcan. We’ll get you there, I promise. I won’t let you die.” He looked over at Ninomiya. “How much time do we have?”
“Since our friend here has already reached the smacking people around and forgetting it stage, I’d say we have six days.”
Sho watched in astonishment as Ohno summoned the bridge. “Please plot a course for Vulcan, maximum warp.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Ikuta, his voice echoing through sickbay.
“But the soil samples,” Sho reminded him. “And Admiral Roddenberry!”
“You’re a little more important than dirt, Sho-kun,” Ohno said with a gentle smile, patting his shoulder gently.
-
Captain’s personal log, stardate 2268.7. If Sho-kun dies, I’m fucked!
-
In general, Ohno didn’t much like to disobey orders. He often thought some of his orders were a bit stupid, but he still carried them out. He didn’t have the same ambitions as others in his line of work, rising through the ranks until you were named Admiral and got a cushy desk job back at Starfleet Headquarters on Earth. But he supposed it wouldn’t be the worst way to live. Disobeying orders, however, often got captains in hot water, and he didn’t much like the idea of a court-martial and all that nonsense. It was a tricky tightrope to walk, having to justify why he’d changed course, abandoned the Altair system. If he fucked up, he’d be in deep trouble.
An ex-captain, stripped of rank and ship, would have an awful hard time getting another job, and he was saving all of his Starfleet salary to retire and build his dream boat someday, a vessel that would travel the ocean rather than the stars, letting him fish in peace until death came knocking. But who knows what they’d do with all his money if he got booted from Starfleet? Could they take it all away?
To avoid all that fear-inducing crap, Ohno instead decided to utilize the talents of his officers, who were far more conniving than Ohno could ever hope to be. It was clear that all this pon farr stuff Sho was going through was mega embarrassing, and Ohno wasn’t cruel enough to rat him out to Starfleet Command. It was what Nino had said earlier, it was because Sho was like a horny homesick fish, and that was not something everyone and their mom needed to know.
So they were covering it up.
It had been Jun’s idea to send a scrambled message to Starfleet command, stating that they’d received an emergency beacon from Vulcan requesting their assistance. Jun, a master of showmanship, had composed a rather fancy fake message himself in the traditional Vulcan language, and Chief Aiba was using his computer expertise to give the message its authenticity, embedding Vulcan codes in the transmission. And then once Sho-kun was okay, they’d come back and Ohno would say it was all a false alarm, and Aiba could write up some technobabble about the ship needing upgraded sensors, blah blah, and nobody would really read all of that.
While they were taking care of the deception, Ohno was worried about his first officer.
He’d realized now just how valuable Sho was. Of course he was the person who ought to really be in command, and he was kind of a “shadow leader” for the Stormchaser. He always remembered people’s names (and was rather tactful in the ways he gave Ohno reminders). He knew tiny, helpful details about planets and peoples and all sorts of things. He was the best right hand man Ohno could have asked for.
Without realizing it, over the past few years of their mission, Ohno had come to think of Sho Sakurai as something more than just a colleague. Sho was his friend. He volunteered to do things Ohno didn’t want to, like researching etiquette for dealing with different species or composing speeches for him to deliver when he greeted guests on the Stormchaser. He often knew what Ohno was going to do before he did it, supporting him all the way. And for Ohno’s last birthday, Sho’s gift to him had been a limited edition fishing rod made from the finest Vulcan metal, something Ohno had wanted for years but couldn’t ever find.
As soon as Nino had implied that this pon farr thing might even kill Sho, Ohno had felt lost. What would he do without him? And not just Sho’s skills as an officer, but Sho’s kindness and caring as a friend (even if he tried to look serious when he handed over gifts or chatted with him about his hobbies). It was simply not something Ohno wanted to think about, even though any day could be their last on a starship, out in the deepest reaches of space and light-years from home.
To ensure that Sho didn’t hurt himself or anyone else, Nino had ordered Sho to be confined to a private room in sickbay until their arrival at Vulcan. When Ohno had completed his current rotation, he headed there, steeling himself for what he might find. Because Sho had gotten violent, Nino was keeping close watch on his vital signs, keeping him all but catatonic with tranquilizing medication.
Nurse Yoshitaka straightened when Ohno entered sickbay that afternoon. “How’s he doing?” Ohno asked.
The nurse frowned. “Dr. Ninomiya says it’s getting more and more difficult to determine the correct dosages. Because Commander Sakurai…well, because of his heritage. The amount of tranquilizers required to subdue a Vulcan in pon farr could give a normal human permanent brain damage. It’s getting tricky.”
“Understood. Please continue to send me progress reports throughout the day.”
“Of course, Captain. The doctor is with some other patients right now but…”
“I’ll visit with Sho myself.”
He headed past the empty med tables to one of the private rooms in the rear of sickbay. These rooms were rarely used, save for patients with serious illnesses, maybe a bad reaction to an unknown plant or its spores during a planetary visit. He entered the room, the door whooshing closed behind him. It was small, nothing more than a bed and the monitors on the walls tracking Sho’s vital signs.
“Computer,” Ohno said quietly. “Frosted glass please.”
This turned the clear glass windows of the room to dark gray, giving Sho some privacy. He didn’t need to be like a zoo animal on display. From the way Sho’s chest was moving under the blankets, it seemed like he was finally sleeping. He approached the bed slowly, cautiously. Ohno didn’t know the first thing about what the monitors over the bed were saying. That’s what Nino was for. But he couldn’t help frowning at the sight of his friend.
Seriously, what the hell was up with Vulcans? All they were about was logic, about shunning emotions. And for some reason, Sho preferred to embrace that side of himself. It was remarkable they only had these crazy bursts every seven years. He wondered what it might be like, dealing with what Sho-kun was going through. Of course Ohno had been desperately horny in his life before, and he wasn’t ashamed of that, but obviously not to the point of a psychotic break. He couldn’t even imagine needing to have sex so badly he might die.
He stood at Sho’s bedside, frowning. “We’ll get this all figured out. Just…don’t die okay?”
Sho obviously had no response, save for a rather noisy snore that pierced the silence of the room. That at least made Ohno smile.
The door opened, and Nino came in, his scanner in hand. “I don’t think you coming in here to privately jack him off is going to be enough, but bless you for trying. Gotta love that chain of command.”
Ohno took a step back from the bed. “I’m the captain, you know. You can’t talk to me that way.”
Nino just activated his scanner, humming quietly as he checked Sho’s vital signs. “It was a joke. Keep things lighthearted around here, ha ha.”
“I wouldn’t do something like that…”
Nino grinned. “Methinks the captain protests too much.”
Ohno hesitated for a moment, not that he’d actually come here to stick his hand in Sho’s pants or anything. “…you’re sure it wouldn’t help though? I mean, if there was someone Sho-kun liked and could be with for now. Until we get to Vulcan…”
Nino turned his scanner off, shaking his head. “Been doing some reading. Or more like I’ve had Nurse Yoshitaka do some reading and summarize it for me. Seems like it’s mostly a Vulcan thing, a bond with a mate kind of thing. Don’t have another Vulcan on the crew manifest right now to stand in and be pimped out to him. Not sure a human would cut it unless they had a preexisting thing with him. And I’ve never known Sakurai to have a thing for anyone, have you?”
Something started nagging at Ohno, almost as soon as Nino said so. What was it, what was it…
“Jun knows Sho’s mom.”
Nino was confused. “Huh?”
Ohno scratched his head. He hadn’t told his officers everything about Sho’s condition, it wasn’t their business. They just knew that going to Vulcan obviously had something to do with the first officer. But then Jun had volunteered to send a message to Starfleet Academy, to notify Sakurai’s mother that Sho was unwell and they were going to Vulcan. It hadn’t sounded weird at the time, but how had Jun known exactly where the woman worked? Because there was no way Matsumoto would have pulled up Sakurai’s personnel file without requesting permission from Ohno first. He’d simply known already…
He explained this to Nino, who looked even more confused. “Him and Matsumoto? Seriously?”
-
“Respectfully, sir, that’s none of your business,” Jun Matsumoto said, his discomfort obvious as he sat there in sickbay undergoing the most awkward bit of questioning Nino had ever witnessed.
It was pretty clear to Nino that Sakurai’s illness had Ohno scared shitless. Sakurai did a hell of a lot around the Stormchaser, and there was probably nobody that Ohno trusted more. But this was a rather extreme ask, even for the most loyal of his crew. They were still more than 12 hours out from Vulcan, and Ohno was so worried about losing Sho to the Vulcan equivalent of blue balls that he was seriously asking Matsumoto if he and Sakurai had fucked before.
Well, he asked in slightly more delicate terms. He wasn’t Nino, after all.
“Nino says Sho has to be with someone he has a bond with, at least to make the pon farr symptoms stop.”
“And you think because I knew that T’Yoko works for Starfleet Academy that means Sakurai and I are together? Sorry to disappoint, sir, but T’Yoko is one of the quadrant’s leading scholars in xenolinguistics. I studied under her.”
Ohno leaned forward, seeming desperate. “Maybe you could just snuggle with him for a while?”
Matsumoto launched himself from his chair, looking enraged. Nino just hoped they didn’t have two cases of pon farr floating around the Stormchaser now. Nothing in the journals and case studies he’d read implied that such a thing was contagious or able to be passed on to humans.
“Snuggle with him?” Jun screeched, getting up in his captain’s face. “Have you gone crazy?”
Ohno stood up from his own seat, doing his best to intimidate his comms officer. This was of course kind of difficult because not only was Matsumoto several inches taller than him, but Satoshi Ohno was kind of the opposite of scary. “Captain Marshmallow” was a term that often got bandied around the crew mess hall.
“I have not gone crazy,” Ohno insisted, hands on his hips. “I’m looking for all possible solutions to a problem. It’s an unconventional solution, I’ll grant you that, but it’s better to ask you than to just ignore it! If it was you, Lieutenant, sick with an illness like that, I’d drop everything to save your life!”
Ah, no he wouldn’t, Nino knew. Sakurai was a special case for the captain, whether Ohno was consciously aware of it or not. At this point it was best if Nino intervened, and he did so, stepping over to rest his hand on Jun’s shoulder to keep him from muttering curses at the captain in one of the dozens of languages he knew.
“We’re not saying you have to go in there and get horizontal with him,” Nino said. “It’s not an order. This is a simple inquiry, and if there’s nothing going on between you at present, then I highly doubt it’s going to make much difference. But if you and the commander are currently involved then…”
“We are not currently involved,” Matsumoto said, gritting his teeth. “But I do know him, and if he was involved with anyone on board, he would have already told you, Captain. Protocol is everything to him.”
“You see, Captain?” Nino replied. “Sho-chan will just have to sit tight for the rest of the trip.”
“Matsumoto, you’re dismissed,” Ohno said, looking a little embarrassed. “And, uh, sorry.”
Nino held back a smile as Matsumoto left sickbay in quite a huff. “Well, I think you’ve just made an enemy for life.”
Ohno sighed. “Now what are we going to do?”
“We just get the fish back to his pond and go from there.”
part two