Starships, as James Kirk was fond of remarking, were not democratic organizations. On the ship his word was Law, although he trusted that it was a law always tempered with common sense and compassion. However, no sane captain ignores the mood of his crew once he has ascertained it, and like all good commanders Kirk was almost preternaturally attuned to those under his command. He was also no fool,
THE PROBLEM
Spock knew something was wrong the minute Kirk entered his quarters. The coffee cup was clenched, not held in his hand and he'd run his left hand through his hair twice in the time it took him to enter and sit down.
“I take it the conference with Commodore Stone did not go as planned.”
“It seems we have a small glitch.
When the vicious thoughts crossed my mind, I was horrified. How I could consider them about anyone, never mind my closest friend, was beyond contempt. Ruthlessly suppressing them I tried to concentrate on the report needing my attention but my vision began to blur. As the words wavered then disappeared, my senses reeled and I panicked.
“Does this make me look fat?” Kirk asked.
He thought he heard Spock sigh, again. Well, yes, he did ask that just a little while ago, but Spock hadmerely launched into his lecture mode about differing cultural values of various societies through historical time periods, leading up to the Talurans, their hosts for the evening's reception where they were due soon, the reason he was standing there studying himself in the mirror. In a dress.
Captain's Personal Log: Stardate 6055.1
The ship is in orbit above Vulcan, where I and my science officer will spend the next three weeks. I accepted Spock's invitation to accompany him on shoreleave, with some trepidation. I fear I am losing my friend and I don't know why.
The door to Spock's quarters opened, but he stepped aside to allow his captain to enter first. As soon as he was inside, Kirk paused a moment to breathe in the welcoming warmth and stillness of the room before heading for the small sofa positioned against the wall on the far side of the Vulcan's bed. It looked to be waiting just for him. He smiled at his fancy musing.
The sky held that peculiar golden glow that only occurred after a storm over San Francisco Bay and nowhere else in the known galaxy. The City itself appeared to gleam, each pane of transparent aluminum glittering like polished glass, every titanium-sided building reflecting the golden-peach twilight. The bay rippled a restless apricot-tipped blue so deep it could have been the black of space but for the hint of cobalt hidden beneath each half-hearted wave.
…tock…. tock…
The soft noise slowly stopped being part of his dreams as he drifted back into reality. He opened his eyes to stare into the moonlit darkness of the room. Turning his head to the right, he could read the clock on the wall - two in the morning. What the heck was going on out there?
…tock…
Captain Spock looked up when Mr. Scott walked into the briefing room. He switched off the screen, but the report he had been studying continued to occupy his mind.
“Spock? Are you not ready yet? Himself will be waiting for us, and he's a notoriously impatient man,” Scott exclaimed, his fists clenched at his side.
The smell of human sweat, impact of blows, kinetic energy of the hard-muscled body rebounding and bearing him to the floor. Damp hair, and eyes alight. A very small part of Spock's mind catalogued the sensory input of the experience, another was occupied with their conversation.
“Stupid desk-bound bureaucrats!” Kirk exclaimed in the quiet briefing room. “One of these days I'm gonna tell 'em where to shove their sealed orders!”
“Captain,” Spock said quietly, “I do not understand why you persist in engaging in such a senseless harangue when, based upon prior actions, you will undoubtedly comply with Starfleet's orders regardless of your personal concerns over the legal, moral, and logical basis for such orders.”
Spock sighed.
An emotional expression certainly, but at this moment he did not care.
As he stood in the doorway of Kirk's quarters and looked into the darkness, he wondered when he would see his captain again.
“I do not deny that there is a place in various cultures for commemorations of tradition, McCoy.”
The doctor stuck out his chin and abandoned the dinner before him. “But you think that all this gift giving is illogical, don't you?”
Spock assumed a look of long-suffering that was not entirely feigned. “Not for the humans for whom the celebration is a part of their heritage.”
“Mr. Spock. It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard a lot about you and am looking forward to working with you. You've got quite a reputationSall good!”
James T. Kirk was nervous. Quite unusual for him, but he was nervous nonetheless. Mentally, he kicked himself. Only three hours into his new commandShis first commandSand he was already rambling and sounding like an idiot.
I used to try to make you look at my legs! My God, I can't believe I said that! How could I have been so stupid?
“Yeoman Rand...Janice...are you with me?”
She heard the warmth of a concerned voice in front of her. As her eyes started to focus she also saw the question reflected in the soft blue eyes of CMO Leonard McCoy.
“Sorry, doctor, you were saying?”
The box sat squarely in the middle of my uncluttered desk. I recognized it immediately when I entered my quarters. Nothing else it could be. Not with that distinctive gold and blue wrapping.
“Good morning, sir,” the young man said shyly. He was new to the ship, and Spock had already taken him under his wing. Not that Spock would ever admit to such a thing. But Kirk knew that Spock not only treated his people fairly, but for those who strove to achieve, he did all he could to help: classes, tutoring. Even now, off-duty, he was patiently explaining something to the anxious ensign.
Kirk began eating.