Fanfic: Ihwaz
Story Title: Sleep of Reason Series
Chapter Title: Ihwaz
Prompt: Stuffed animal
Universe: STXI
Rating: PG (for the swearing)
Relationship status: None
Word count: +/- 3,700
Genre: Friendship
Trope: De-age/kidfic
Warnings: None
Summary: Spock is pleased and it’s because of the starfish.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Star Trek & its universe; the (Pattern) Jugglers belong to Alastair Reynolds; and another one belongs to TB - just borrowed them. =)
Notes: A prompt from the schmoop_bingo card a friend gave me.
Admiral Christopher Pike hasn’t moved from his frozen state in the last four-point eight minutes. He begins to think that the Admiral might be suffering from ankylosis, or other related disorders that could be due to the surgery he’s had.
“Come again?” the Admiral requests, finally out of the daze. “I think my ears are not working.”
The Vulcan obliges. “The Enterprise cannot accept the mission or any mission that entails first contacts, possible military entanglements and exploration of uninhabited planets for at least twenty-seven days, Admiral.”
“Wow,” Pike blinks, formality long gone. “I think I need hearing aids, or an ear surgery. I’m calling my physician after this.”
“You are not experiencing hearing impairment,” Spock says, patiently. “Nor you are ill, Admiral.”
“Maybe.” Pike sighs and tangles his fingers over the desk, inclining forward. “You are aware that you are disobeying a direct order, Commander Spock. Care to tell me what’s going on?”
“Before I do, Sir,” says Spock. “I must request for this discussion to be unmonitored and unrecorded.”
Pike gives him an skeptical look before reaching his hand out of the view. “Done.”
“One moment, Sir.” The Vulcan makes certain of the security of their conversion, blocking necessary channels and paths and setting up layers of protection codes to ensure their privacy. “As I have stated earlier, the mission to the Juggler’s homeplanet, Vaita, has been successful and Starfleet has obtained a seventy-five Terran year trade of benarium crystals.”
“I’m expecting a ‘but’ here,” interjects Pike.
Pause. “There has been a mishap.”
“A mishap,” Pike echoes with a frown, then he groans, “What did Jim do this time? Did he try to sleep with the leader or one of her subjects? Her daughter? Is that why I’m talking to you right now and not him?”
Fascinating. The Admiral shows extensive knowledge of the Captain’s customary flirty behavior, even though Jim has not and certainly will not do such acts to jeopardize any of their missions. “The Lady Liadlaw doesn’t have a daughter, Admiral. Captain Kirk neither had engaged copulation with her nor any of her subjects and staffs before, during and after the negotiation.”
“Did Jim eat something he’s allergic to again?”
“Negative.”
“Is he hurt? In comatose? McCoy holding him prisoner in Sickbay?”
He’s not really sure about the last bit, but again, the Admiral has speculated wrong. “Negative, Sir. Captain Kirk is in optimal health, and Doctor McCoy is perhaps in the medical ward.”
“Then what?” Pike asks, getting agitated. “Get to the point, Spock.”
He braises himself. “Captain Kirk is currently… unfit for duty.”
“Spock,” warns Pike. “If you don’t tell me what the hell is going on there, I’m going to court martial you for withholding vital information from Starfleet.”
More like withholding information from him, Spock thinks to himself. It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell the Admiral of their current situation. He just doesn’t know how without revealing the true cause of the Captain’s transformation. Spock may be a skilled orator, but he’s a lousy liar - according to Jim, Nyota, Doctor McCoy and Admiral Pike himself, and he actually believes that.
“Perhaps it is best that I show you, Admiral,” he says instead. Quickly, he stands and walks out of the monitor’s view.
“Spock? Where are you going?” Pike calls from the screen. “Oy!”
When Spock returns to his seat, Jim is on his lap.
“Oh-kay, this is unexpected,” Pike says slowly. “Whose kid is that? I sure hope you guys didn’t kidnap anyone. That would be a political relation’s nightmare.”
Spock ignores the Admiral’s statements and whispers to the child’s ear, “Please introduce yourself.”
Jim meekly nods before looking straight to Pike’s eyes. “My name’s James Tiberius Kirk. What’s yours?”
Silence descends upon them, lasting for ten-point-six seconds. Then the Admiral speaks, “You’re kidding. Is this a prank?”
Spock can’t help raising an eyebrow. “Vulcans do not engage in what humans call ‘prank’, Admiral. And I believe it is proper propriety to answer a question when asked.”
“Oh like you did earlier on?” Pike bites back.
“Admiral,” he beseeches.
“Fine,” says Pike, rolling his eyes. He then looks at Jim. “I’m Admiral Christopher Pike of Starfleet Command. Nice to meet you.”
“I don’t like you,” Jim suddenly declares, making a move to detach himself from Spock, but the Vulcan keeps him in place.
“Of course he doesn’t,” mutters the Admiral, too low for a human to hear but not for Spock. “How old are you, kid?”
“Four,” Jim shortly replies. “What’s it to you?”
Pike sighs, appearing tired and tad annoyed. “You’re him alright. Snippy and has no respect for authority even at such age.” He narrows his eyes to Spock. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Commander. Better start now before I demote you back to ensign.”
An empty threat, but, “Certainly, Sir.” He inclines his head down to Jim, murmuring, “You may return to your puzzles.”
Jim looks up. “You’re not going with me?”
“I will be with you after I have spoken with Admiral Pike,” promises Spock as he sets him down.
The child looks at the screen, and then walks back to the sleeping area of the room without a word.
“Huh. He really doesn’t like me,” remarks Pike when Jim’s no longer in their sight or hearing range.
“Admiral?”
“The kid just glared at me, Spock,” Pike explains. “I don’t have to be a genius to understand that. Anyway, let’s get back to the subject. What the hell happened?”
Spock starts to narrate the incident, which is very brief, since he’s restricted to say anything more.
“That’s it?” Pike says incredulously. “Jim and some of the crew went down to Vaita to negotiate, he gets turned to a kid and he’s aging one year every twenty-four hours.”
“Affirmative.”
“And you’re not telling me everything, Commander,” the admiral accuses with a sharp glare. “You know who and what caused Jim’s transformation. Tell me.”
Calmly, Spock answers, “I cannot, Admiral.”
Pike studies him carefully. “Commander, I order you to -”
“I cannot,” Spock interrupts uncharacteristically, causing for Pike to gawk at him. “I meant no disrespect. I truly cannot divulge any more than what I have informed you, Admiral.”
“Alright,” sighs Pike. “I get it. I’ll just tell the higher ups that Enterprise needs to resupply to cover this up. Better go to the nearest starbase for that. Stay for as long as you see fit. Then, you guys are on charting duties.”
Spock nods. “You have my appreciation, Admiral.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Pike says, dismissively waving a hand. “I still have to get your report on the negotiation, Spock. And oh, don’t forget to concoct some brilliant believable lie about needing to resupply. Unless you guys actually do.”
Spock doesn’t refute him. “Understood.”
“Take care of him. Pike out.”
The screen blackens and Spock is left to stare at his own reflection. That actually went far better than he’s anticipated. The Enterprise has long left Vaita’s orbit and is already en route to the nearest starbase at warp factor eight; their time of arrival will be two days and six-point-one hours. As Starbase 12 is located close to Risa, perhaps it is pragmatic to grant the crew shore leave.
“Is the old man gone?” a small voice asks.
Spock turns to see Jim peeking from the dividing wall. He stands and walks towards the child. “Yes, James, he is gone.”
“I don’t like him,” Jim says, wrinkling his nose. “He’s in the mi-milty.”
Astoundingly, when Jim has turned three years old, he’s been articulating several words in sentences, and appears to have a good comprehension of what he hears. It is such a large leap from when he was two. And now that he’s gained another year, Jim is much more expressive with what he thinks, believes and feels.
“Military,” corrects Spock, a hand on Jim’s head. “As I am.”
“You’re different,” Jim states firmly, holding Spock’s gaze as he squeezes the undistinguishable plush in his arms.
Curious. “How?”
He carefully removes the Vulcan’s hand from his head, clasps it tightly, and declares, “You’re Spock.”
The corridors of the seventh deck are buzzing with crewmembers who have just finished their shifts and who are on their way to theirs. They sometimes would halt their steps and whisper to their companions. It is of no use though, because Spock can still hear and understand their hushed conversations as he walks through the halls, Jim in tow.
From his peripheral view, he can see the child looking around and occasionally glaring to those he catches staring at them. In the least, Jim is quiet, hasn’t even verbally attacked anyone since Spock has scolded him - gently, of course. He doesn’t understand Jim’s aversion and distaste of those in Starfleet, which is everyone, except for him - which is another oddity itself. Even those he has likened when he was younger are now disdained. When Spock’s inquired for his reasons, Jim has answered him, truthfully.
A tug draws Spock’s attention to the child.
“Do I really have to?” Jim whines.
This is the fourteenth time he’s asked that exact question, and every time, Spock gives him the same reply. “Yes, James. It is required.”
“But I don’t like that place,” the child insists. “It stinks there.”
Spock stops in front of Sickbay’s entrance, just far enough for the sensor to not detect them and stoops down on one knee, meeting Jim in the eyes. “We will not stay long. I am certain Doctor McCoy will finish swift with your medical examination.”
“But-”
“James,” Spock says gently. “It will be short.”
Reluctantly, the child nods, despite the evident pouting of his lips. “Can I get treat after?”
Spock would have laughed if he were prone to such act. But, yes, he finds that he’s amused. He gets up, eyes still on Jim when he says, “Only if you behaved.”
Just as he’s about to step into the medical ward, a large, moving object crashes into him, sending the said object toppling on the floor; Spock remains unaffected by the impact.
“Goddamnit!” cries Doctor McCoy, holding his nose as he sits up. “Watch where y-” He cuts himself off when he sees who he’s crashed onto. The doctor swiftly gathers his limbs, standing, and without warning, he grabs Spock’s front uniform with a forceful pull, but he’s dragged back since the Vulcan stays in place.
“We need to talk, you green-blooded hobglobin!” he hisses behind the hand pressing his nose. He tries pulling him again but to no avail. “Move it!”
“Something the matter, Doctor?” asks Spock calmly, one brow elevated.
McCoy sputters something under his breath. “Damnit, just come with me!”
“And James?”
The doctor notices Jim and then turns his head to the room. “Chapel!” he bellows angrily. “Get Jim checked!” He faces the Vulcan with a glare. “Satisfied?”
Spock doesn’t move for a moment before he looks at Jim, who is muffling his giggles. “I will return shortly.” Only when Jim nods in agreement that Spock allows himself to be hauled by the highly irate Medical Officer. He spares a glance over his shoulder to see Nurse Chapel leading Jim further inside.
As soon as they’ve arrived in the doctor’s office, McCoy detaches his hold of Spock, walking away from him to rummage around the room. He’s able to procure a towel and immediately covers his nose with it, tipping his head up. Spock can see blood on McCoy’s right hand as he continues to press the material to his nose with the other.
“You are injured,” states Spock, wondering.
McCoy is still able to glower at him even with his head angled upwards. “You injured me, you damn hobglobin. You and your damn high-density clavicle! Be grateful you didn’t break my nose or I’d slowly slice your damn pointy ears with an obsidian scalpel.”
The eyebrow goes up again. Spock’s fully aware of the Chief Medical Officer’s collection of the various types of the aforementioned surgical tool. “If you recall, Doctor, you collided to me. I was merely standing by the entrance as the Captain and I waited for the door to fully open.”
“Exactly,” grumbles McCoy, now wiping the blood around his olfactory organ and its proximity before making twisting motions of his facial muscles. He carelessly tosses the towel on the couch after he’s cleaned his hand. “You just stood there when you could have moved away! You’re a damn Vulcan, you’re supposed to have insanely good reflexes!”
Spock doesn’t sigh. “You wished to privately speak with me,” he states instead, steering off from the subject.
“Yeah,” he grunts, resting against his desk as he repeatedly massages his nose. “Pike called, and apparently, a certain Acting Captain didn’t tell him the whole truth.”
“Did you?”
“What do you think?” growls the doctor. “Of course not! You made it clear that no one else should know. Even with the private channel he’s used, I couldn’t risk it.” McCoy loudly exhales. “But Pike’s got the right to know.”
Unable to understand, Spock can’t stop himself from asking, “For what reason?”
“Because it concerns Jim,” the doctor says heatedly. “Pike’s one of the few people Jim looks up to. The man means more to him than just the one who got him to join Starfleet, respects him not just because Pike’s an admiral.” He pauses, then, “Besides, Pike treats Jim like his only favorite prodigal son. He cares and worries about him.”
“Admiral Pike is aware of the Captain’s condition,” says Spock. “They have briefly spoken earlier.”
“But Pike still doesn’t know how it happened or who did it.”
“Indeed, Doctor,” Spock agrees. “Whether or not the Admiral is to be informed of its cause, the current circumstances stand. The Captain will continue to grow one Terran year every twenty-four hours, he will remain unfit for duty until he’s reached his correct age, and the Enterprise still cannot accept missions that may lead to dangers until that time. We will only breach the contract that was agreed upon with the Jugglers if the Admiral, or anyone else, were informed.”
After a long pause, McCoy concedes, “Fine. I get your point.” He then walks passed Spock; the Vulcan follows him with his eyes. The doctor activates the coating of the room’s large window, automatically dimming the lights in the office. The transparent aluminum becomes a one-way mirror, giving them a clear view of Jim sitting on a biodbed, without anyone seeing them.
“How did their talk go?” Doctor McCoy asks as he observes the child. “Jim and Pike, I mean.”
Spock stands aligned with the doctor, hands clasp on his back. “James verbally stated his dislike of Admiral Pike.”
“Same to all of us, huh,” remarks McCoy. “Well, except you. He likes you, a lot.”
“I have inquired regarding that matter,” says Spock, watching Jim swinging his legs. “He dislikes you due to the smell of drugs and chemicals.”
McCoy snorts, “Figures. Jim’s hated infirmaries, doctors and nurses for as long as I’ve known him. He only likes me because I give him caffeine-rich serums to keep him going and I prescribe booze as an alternative medicine.”
“You have also saved his life several times, Doctor,” Spock adds.
“I know,” is his response. “But that doesn’t count.”
Jim is currently squeezing tight his plush toy with both arms, protectively shielding it from Nurse Chapel’s attempt to pry it away. It doesn’t take long for the nurse to surrender, to which Jim smugly smiles.
“It is most curious that James is… attached to that particular object,” observes Spock.
“You mean that potato sack he’s holding?” McCoy rhetorically asks. “It’s normal for kids his age to get attached to things, mostly because they feel alone and lonely. Wait until he creates imaginary friends. Kids also have that tendency. Don’t worry though, he’ll outgrow it eventually.”
“From what I understand,” Spock starts, “human children have more inkling to more… aesthetically pleasing and colourful items.”
Time stops, and McCoy very slowly turns to look at the Vulcan. “Did you just call Mister Oogie Boogie ugly?”
“I made no such assertion,” Spock counters, trying to sound less indignant as possible.
“Oh you did!” McCoy laughs heartily.
“As I have stated-”
“Whatever, Hobglobin. Man, I wish I got that recorded.” The doctor crosses his arms and returns to observe Jim, a wide grin still pasted on his face. “It depends on every kid. Some like colourful things, others go for the opposite. It’s all about preference.”
“I see,” the Vulcan intones, studying Jim from the distance. “The object is called Mister… Oogie Boogie?”
“Yep,” says McCoy. “Don’t ask where it got its name, Jim never told me.”
“The Captain has had the item since he was a child?”
The doctor shakes his head. “Nah. He got it around our first year in the academy. Don’t know where or from whom either. He just came with it when we met for a snack in Skellington’s diner outside the campus. Instead of going to a bar as we’d planned, Jim cancelled and went back to his dorm without giving me an explanation. From then on, he’s had it on his study desk in his room.”
“Most interesting,” states Spock. “The object has also been displayed openly on the curio in his quarters.”
“Yeah,” McCoy agrees quietly. Then, he commands the light on and restores the window’s default setting. “Let’s go. Jim’s results are up.”
Spock silently studies the stuffed toy. Mister Oogie Boogie, as Doctor McCoy has called it, resembles a Terran echoderm of class Asteroidea. It is brown in colour, has four limbs representing its arms and legs, a pointed head, an elliptical set of eyes and a black line as its mouth. Jim has made no mention of its name, nor has he has given it one. The child is indeed very much emotionally invested to the inanimate object, carrying it everywhere he goes and always has it near his side.
After the conversation he’s had with Doctor McCoy, Spock has researched regarding human children’s tendency to keep stuffed toys within their proximity. The most reason he has gathered is that children tend to anthromorphise these materials, believing that it possesses an essence or a life force. It also serves as a companion, a friend who will accompany the child in solitude and help him or her cope with the fear of darkness and other intangible things.
As of present, the toy is placed against the wall on top of the table. He and Jim are in the recreation room in Deck 8, with Spock teaching the child tri-dimensional chess. The young Captain has grown bored of the puzzles, mind-stimulating games and books he was provided with three-point-eight hours ago. To keep Jim entertained - and prevent a tantrum - Spock has decided to teach him chess.
And Jim is quite learning the game faster than Spock has predicted. He shouldn’t be surprised, but he is. Jim has shown high proficiency in understanding complex things that an average human child of his age cannot. Spock compares his brain development to that of a Vulcan child, but Jim’s approaches to different problems are unconventional. For instance, when facing a three-dimensional photo puzzle, instead of moving the cubes to solve it (as one should), Jim breaks the cubes and assembles it accordingly.
The child also has demonstrated a remarkable aptitude in reading. Contrary to what Spock has believed, Jim doesn’t like to read fictions or fairy tales. He prefers course texts such as history, elementary mathematics and science in general. Although there are still some (several) words Jim cannot understand, he still reads those topics, occasionally consulting Spock of the things he cannot comprehend. The subjects are of beginner’s level, but the Vulcan is nevertheless impressed and can’t help be proud of young James’ brilliant mind.
“Don’t worry,” Jim suddenly says, moving the knight to the lowest level. “It’s not going anywhere.”
“You cannot move the knight in that position, James.” Spock returns white knight to its prior place. “To what are you referring?”
He gestures his head to the toy. “Oogie. You’re staring at it.”
Spock doesn’t correct him. Instead he broaches the child’s attachment to the object, his curiosity getting better of him despite the research he has made earlier on. “I am merely curious as to why you refuse to let it out of your sight.”
Jim shrugs, placing the knight on the second level; a correct move this time. “I don’t want to lose it.”
The Vulcan counters the move by threatening the knight with a pawn. “Would placing it in your room a better choice than carrying it around? That way, the chances of losing it would be less.”
“I need it with me.”
“Why?”
Another shrug. “It’s a warning for the others.”
“I believe I do not understand, James,” Spock admits after much thinking. “Please explain.”
Jim looks at him, blue-eyes piercing, but he doesn’t say anything and so, Spock doesn’t push the subject. They continue with their game.
Later, when Spock is to retire, Jim enters his quarters through their adjoined bathroom and climbs on Spock’s bed. The child settles his head on Spock’s torso as the Vulcan commands the temperature to be lowered by few degrees to accommodate Jim.
Surprisingly, the inanimate object was not with him. “Where is your toy, James?”
Jim hmmed, eyes close. “In my room. I don’t need him here because you’re here.”
“Is that so?” Spock intones, strangely pleased.
“Oogie is the baddest of all monsters,” Jim says with a nod. “I captured it, so it’ll make other monsters go away. But I know you’ll protect me better!” Spock’s eyebrow elevates. “You’re my Ihwaz, Spock.”
There is a tingling in his gut that Spock doesn’t wish to interpret. “I see. Thank you, James.” He runs a hand through the child’s hair.
“G’night,” Jim mumbles before eventually drifting off.
Spock returns his attention on the PADD he’s reading, a small smile on his lips. Even without Jim telling him that, Spock is certain that he will always endeavor to protect him, no matter what and no matter from whom.
That is an Ihwaz’s promise.
More to come! =)
Return to Master Post
Ihwaz = comes from a name of a rune stone, which is a stone of "protection" or "defense". I took the liberty to translate it to "protector".
PS. Oogie Boogie & Skellington (from The Nightmare Before Christmas) are owned by Mr. Tim Burton (and Disney, I suppose). ;p
Chapter Title: Ihwaz
Prompt: Stuffed animal
Universe: STXI
Rating: PG (for the swearing)
Relationship status: None
Word count: +/- 3,700
Genre: Friendship
Trope: De-age/kidfic
Warnings: None
Summary: Spock is pleased and it’s because of the starfish.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Star Trek & its universe; the (Pattern) Jugglers belong to Alastair Reynolds; and another one belongs to TB - just borrowed them. =)
Notes: A prompt from the schmoop_bingo card a friend gave me.
Admiral Christopher Pike hasn’t moved from his frozen state in the last four-point eight minutes. He begins to think that the Admiral might be suffering from ankylosis, or other related disorders that could be due to the surgery he’s had.
“Come again?” the Admiral requests, finally out of the daze. “I think my ears are not working.”
The Vulcan obliges. “The Enterprise cannot accept the mission or any mission that entails first contacts, possible military entanglements and exploration of uninhabited planets for at least twenty-seven days, Admiral.”
“Wow,” Pike blinks, formality long gone. “I think I need hearing aids, or an ear surgery. I’m calling my physician after this.”
“You are not experiencing hearing impairment,” Spock says, patiently. “Nor you are ill, Admiral.”
“Maybe.” Pike sighs and tangles his fingers over the desk, inclining forward. “You are aware that you are disobeying a direct order, Commander Spock. Care to tell me what’s going on?”
“Before I do, Sir,” says Spock. “I must request for this discussion to be unmonitored and unrecorded.”
Pike gives him an skeptical look before reaching his hand out of the view. “Done.”
“One moment, Sir.” The Vulcan makes certain of the security of their conversion, blocking necessary channels and paths and setting up layers of protection codes to ensure their privacy. “As I have stated earlier, the mission to the Juggler’s homeplanet, Vaita, has been successful and Starfleet has obtained a seventy-five Terran year trade of benarium crystals.”
“I’m expecting a ‘but’ here,” interjects Pike.
Pause. “There has been a mishap.”
“A mishap,” Pike echoes with a frown, then he groans, “What did Jim do this time? Did he try to sleep with the leader or one of her subjects? Her daughter? Is that why I’m talking to you right now and not him?”
Fascinating. The Admiral shows extensive knowledge of the Captain’s customary flirty behavior, even though Jim has not and certainly will not do such acts to jeopardize any of their missions. “The Lady Liadlaw doesn’t have a daughter, Admiral. Captain Kirk neither had engaged copulation with her nor any of her subjects and staffs before, during and after the negotiation.”
“Did Jim eat something he’s allergic to again?”
“Negative.”
“Is he hurt? In comatose? McCoy holding him prisoner in Sickbay?”
He’s not really sure about the last bit, but again, the Admiral has speculated wrong. “Negative, Sir. Captain Kirk is in optimal health, and Doctor McCoy is perhaps in the medical ward.”
“Then what?” Pike asks, getting agitated. “Get to the point, Spock.”
He braises himself. “Captain Kirk is currently… unfit for duty.”
“Spock,” warns Pike. “If you don’t tell me what the hell is going on there, I’m going to court martial you for withholding vital information from Starfleet.”
More like withholding information from him, Spock thinks to himself. It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell the Admiral of their current situation. He just doesn’t know how without revealing the true cause of the Captain’s transformation. Spock may be a skilled orator, but he’s a lousy liar - according to Jim, Nyota, Doctor McCoy and Admiral Pike himself, and he actually believes that.
“Perhaps it is best that I show you, Admiral,” he says instead. Quickly, he stands and walks out of the monitor’s view.
“Spock? Where are you going?” Pike calls from the screen. “Oy!”
When Spock returns to his seat, Jim is on his lap.
“Oh-kay, this is unexpected,” Pike says slowly. “Whose kid is that? I sure hope you guys didn’t kidnap anyone. That would be a political relation’s nightmare.”
Spock ignores the Admiral’s statements and whispers to the child’s ear, “Please introduce yourself.”
Jim meekly nods before looking straight to Pike’s eyes. “My name’s James Tiberius Kirk. What’s yours?”
Silence descends upon them, lasting for ten-point-six seconds. Then the Admiral speaks, “You’re kidding. Is this a prank?”
Spock can’t help raising an eyebrow. “Vulcans do not engage in what humans call ‘prank’, Admiral. And I believe it is proper propriety to answer a question when asked.”
“Oh like you did earlier on?” Pike bites back.
“Admiral,” he beseeches.
“Fine,” says Pike, rolling his eyes. He then looks at Jim. “I’m Admiral Christopher Pike of Starfleet Command. Nice to meet you.”
“I don’t like you,” Jim suddenly declares, making a move to detach himself from Spock, but the Vulcan keeps him in place.
“Of course he doesn’t,” mutters the Admiral, too low for a human to hear but not for Spock. “How old are you, kid?”
“Four,” Jim shortly replies. “What’s it to you?”
Pike sighs, appearing tired and tad annoyed. “You’re him alright. Snippy and has no respect for authority even at such age.” He narrows his eyes to Spock. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Commander. Better start now before I demote you back to ensign.”
An empty threat, but, “Certainly, Sir.” He inclines his head down to Jim, murmuring, “You may return to your puzzles.”
Jim looks up. “You’re not going with me?”
“I will be with you after I have spoken with Admiral Pike,” promises Spock as he sets him down.
The child looks at the screen, and then walks back to the sleeping area of the room without a word.
“Huh. He really doesn’t like me,” remarks Pike when Jim’s no longer in their sight or hearing range.
“Admiral?”
“The kid just glared at me, Spock,” Pike explains. “I don’t have to be a genius to understand that. Anyway, let’s get back to the subject. What the hell happened?”
Spock starts to narrate the incident, which is very brief, since he’s restricted to say anything more.
“That’s it?” Pike says incredulously. “Jim and some of the crew went down to Vaita to negotiate, he gets turned to a kid and he’s aging one year every twenty-four hours.”
“Affirmative.”
“And you’re not telling me everything, Commander,” the admiral accuses with a sharp glare. “You know who and what caused Jim’s transformation. Tell me.”
Calmly, Spock answers, “I cannot, Admiral.”
Pike studies him carefully. “Commander, I order you to -”
“I cannot,” Spock interrupts uncharacteristically, causing for Pike to gawk at him. “I meant no disrespect. I truly cannot divulge any more than what I have informed you, Admiral.”
“Alright,” sighs Pike. “I get it. I’ll just tell the higher ups that Enterprise needs to resupply to cover this up. Better go to the nearest starbase for that. Stay for as long as you see fit. Then, you guys are on charting duties.”
Spock nods. “You have my appreciation, Admiral.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Pike says, dismissively waving a hand. “I still have to get your report on the negotiation, Spock. And oh, don’t forget to concoct some brilliant believable lie about needing to resupply. Unless you guys actually do.”
Spock doesn’t refute him. “Understood.”
“Take care of him. Pike out.”
The screen blackens and Spock is left to stare at his own reflection. That actually went far better than he’s anticipated. The Enterprise has long left Vaita’s orbit and is already en route to the nearest starbase at warp factor eight; their time of arrival will be two days and six-point-one hours. As Starbase 12 is located close to Risa, perhaps it is pragmatic to grant the crew shore leave.
“Is the old man gone?” a small voice asks.
Spock turns to see Jim peeking from the dividing wall. He stands and walks towards the child. “Yes, James, he is gone.”
“I don’t like him,” Jim says, wrinkling his nose. “He’s in the mi-milty.”
Astoundingly, when Jim has turned three years old, he’s been articulating several words in sentences, and appears to have a good comprehension of what he hears. It is such a large leap from when he was two. And now that he’s gained another year, Jim is much more expressive with what he thinks, believes and feels.
“Military,” corrects Spock, a hand on Jim’s head. “As I am.”
“You’re different,” Jim states firmly, holding Spock’s gaze as he squeezes the undistinguishable plush in his arms.
Curious. “How?”
He carefully removes the Vulcan’s hand from his head, clasps it tightly, and declares, “You’re Spock.”
The corridors of the seventh deck are buzzing with crewmembers who have just finished their shifts and who are on their way to theirs. They sometimes would halt their steps and whisper to their companions. It is of no use though, because Spock can still hear and understand their hushed conversations as he walks through the halls, Jim in tow.
From his peripheral view, he can see the child looking around and occasionally glaring to those he catches staring at them. In the least, Jim is quiet, hasn’t even verbally attacked anyone since Spock has scolded him - gently, of course. He doesn’t understand Jim’s aversion and distaste of those in Starfleet, which is everyone, except for him - which is another oddity itself. Even those he has likened when he was younger are now disdained. When Spock’s inquired for his reasons, Jim has answered him, truthfully.
A tug draws Spock’s attention to the child.
“Do I really have to?” Jim whines.
This is the fourteenth time he’s asked that exact question, and every time, Spock gives him the same reply. “Yes, James. It is required.”
“But I don’t like that place,” the child insists. “It stinks there.”
Spock stops in front of Sickbay’s entrance, just far enough for the sensor to not detect them and stoops down on one knee, meeting Jim in the eyes. “We will not stay long. I am certain Doctor McCoy will finish swift with your medical examination.”
“But-”
“James,” Spock says gently. “It will be short.”
Reluctantly, the child nods, despite the evident pouting of his lips. “Can I get treat after?”
Spock would have laughed if he were prone to such act. But, yes, he finds that he’s amused. He gets up, eyes still on Jim when he says, “Only if you behaved.”
Just as he’s about to step into the medical ward, a large, moving object crashes into him, sending the said object toppling on the floor; Spock remains unaffected by the impact.
“Goddamnit!” cries Doctor McCoy, holding his nose as he sits up. “Watch where y-” He cuts himself off when he sees who he’s crashed onto. The doctor swiftly gathers his limbs, standing, and without warning, he grabs Spock’s front uniform with a forceful pull, but he’s dragged back since the Vulcan stays in place.
“We need to talk, you green-blooded hobglobin!” he hisses behind the hand pressing his nose. He tries pulling him again but to no avail. “Move it!”
“Something the matter, Doctor?” asks Spock calmly, one brow elevated.
McCoy sputters something under his breath. “Damnit, just come with me!”
“And James?”
The doctor notices Jim and then turns his head to the room. “Chapel!” he bellows angrily. “Get Jim checked!” He faces the Vulcan with a glare. “Satisfied?”
Spock doesn’t move for a moment before he looks at Jim, who is muffling his giggles. “I will return shortly.” Only when Jim nods in agreement that Spock allows himself to be hauled by the highly irate Medical Officer. He spares a glance over his shoulder to see Nurse Chapel leading Jim further inside.
As soon as they’ve arrived in the doctor’s office, McCoy detaches his hold of Spock, walking away from him to rummage around the room. He’s able to procure a towel and immediately covers his nose with it, tipping his head up. Spock can see blood on McCoy’s right hand as he continues to press the material to his nose with the other.
“You are injured,” states Spock, wondering.
McCoy is still able to glower at him even with his head angled upwards. “You injured me, you damn hobglobin. You and your damn high-density clavicle! Be grateful you didn’t break my nose or I’d slowly slice your damn pointy ears with an obsidian scalpel.”
The eyebrow goes up again. Spock’s fully aware of the Chief Medical Officer’s collection of the various types of the aforementioned surgical tool. “If you recall, Doctor, you collided to me. I was merely standing by the entrance as the Captain and I waited for the door to fully open.”
“Exactly,” grumbles McCoy, now wiping the blood around his olfactory organ and its proximity before making twisting motions of his facial muscles. He carelessly tosses the towel on the couch after he’s cleaned his hand. “You just stood there when you could have moved away! You’re a damn Vulcan, you’re supposed to have insanely good reflexes!”
Spock doesn’t sigh. “You wished to privately speak with me,” he states instead, steering off from the subject.
“Yeah,” he grunts, resting against his desk as he repeatedly massages his nose. “Pike called, and apparently, a certain Acting Captain didn’t tell him the whole truth.”
“Did you?”
“What do you think?” growls the doctor. “Of course not! You made it clear that no one else should know. Even with the private channel he’s used, I couldn’t risk it.” McCoy loudly exhales. “But Pike’s got the right to know.”
Unable to understand, Spock can’t stop himself from asking, “For what reason?”
“Because it concerns Jim,” the doctor says heatedly. “Pike’s one of the few people Jim looks up to. The man means more to him than just the one who got him to join Starfleet, respects him not just because Pike’s an admiral.” He pauses, then, “Besides, Pike treats Jim like his only favorite prodigal son. He cares and worries about him.”
“Admiral Pike is aware of the Captain’s condition,” says Spock. “They have briefly spoken earlier.”
“But Pike still doesn’t know how it happened or who did it.”
“Indeed, Doctor,” Spock agrees. “Whether or not the Admiral is to be informed of its cause, the current circumstances stand. The Captain will continue to grow one Terran year every twenty-four hours, he will remain unfit for duty until he’s reached his correct age, and the Enterprise still cannot accept missions that may lead to dangers until that time. We will only breach the contract that was agreed upon with the Jugglers if the Admiral, or anyone else, were informed.”
After a long pause, McCoy concedes, “Fine. I get your point.” He then walks passed Spock; the Vulcan follows him with his eyes. The doctor activates the coating of the room’s large window, automatically dimming the lights in the office. The transparent aluminum becomes a one-way mirror, giving them a clear view of Jim sitting on a biodbed, without anyone seeing them.
“How did their talk go?” Doctor McCoy asks as he observes the child. “Jim and Pike, I mean.”
Spock stands aligned with the doctor, hands clasp on his back. “James verbally stated his dislike of Admiral Pike.”
“Same to all of us, huh,” remarks McCoy. “Well, except you. He likes you, a lot.”
“I have inquired regarding that matter,” says Spock, watching Jim swinging his legs. “He dislikes you due to the smell of drugs and chemicals.”
McCoy snorts, “Figures. Jim’s hated infirmaries, doctors and nurses for as long as I’ve known him. He only likes me because I give him caffeine-rich serums to keep him going and I prescribe booze as an alternative medicine.”
“You have also saved his life several times, Doctor,” Spock adds.
“I know,” is his response. “But that doesn’t count.”
Jim is currently squeezing tight his plush toy with both arms, protectively shielding it from Nurse Chapel’s attempt to pry it away. It doesn’t take long for the nurse to surrender, to which Jim smugly smiles.
“It is most curious that James is… attached to that particular object,” observes Spock.
“You mean that potato sack he’s holding?” McCoy rhetorically asks. “It’s normal for kids his age to get attached to things, mostly because they feel alone and lonely. Wait until he creates imaginary friends. Kids also have that tendency. Don’t worry though, he’ll outgrow it eventually.”
“From what I understand,” Spock starts, “human children have more inkling to more… aesthetically pleasing and colourful items.”
Time stops, and McCoy very slowly turns to look at the Vulcan. “Did you just call Mister Oogie Boogie ugly?”
“I made no such assertion,” Spock counters, trying to sound less indignant as possible.
“Oh you did!” McCoy laughs heartily.
“As I have stated-”
“Whatever, Hobglobin. Man, I wish I got that recorded.” The doctor crosses his arms and returns to observe Jim, a wide grin still pasted on his face. “It depends on every kid. Some like colourful things, others go for the opposite. It’s all about preference.”
“I see,” the Vulcan intones, studying Jim from the distance. “The object is called Mister… Oogie Boogie?”
“Yep,” says McCoy. “Don’t ask where it got its name, Jim never told me.”
“The Captain has had the item since he was a child?”
The doctor shakes his head. “Nah. He got it around our first year in the academy. Don’t know where or from whom either. He just came with it when we met for a snack in Skellington’s diner outside the campus. Instead of going to a bar as we’d planned, Jim cancelled and went back to his dorm without giving me an explanation. From then on, he’s had it on his study desk in his room.”
“Most interesting,” states Spock. “The object has also been displayed openly on the curio in his quarters.”
“Yeah,” McCoy agrees quietly. Then, he commands the light on and restores the window’s default setting. “Let’s go. Jim’s results are up.”
Spock silently studies the stuffed toy. Mister Oogie Boogie, as Doctor McCoy has called it, resembles a Terran echoderm of class Asteroidea. It is brown in colour, has four limbs representing its arms and legs, a pointed head, an elliptical set of eyes and a black line as its mouth. Jim has made no mention of its name, nor has he has given it one. The child is indeed very much emotionally invested to the inanimate object, carrying it everywhere he goes and always has it near his side.
After the conversation he’s had with Doctor McCoy, Spock has researched regarding human children’s tendency to keep stuffed toys within their proximity. The most reason he has gathered is that children tend to anthromorphise these materials, believing that it possesses an essence or a life force. It also serves as a companion, a friend who will accompany the child in solitude and help him or her cope with the fear of darkness and other intangible things.
As of present, the toy is placed against the wall on top of the table. He and Jim are in the recreation room in Deck 8, with Spock teaching the child tri-dimensional chess. The young Captain has grown bored of the puzzles, mind-stimulating games and books he was provided with three-point-eight hours ago. To keep Jim entertained - and prevent a tantrum - Spock has decided to teach him chess.
And Jim is quite learning the game faster than Spock has predicted. He shouldn’t be surprised, but he is. Jim has shown high proficiency in understanding complex things that an average human child of his age cannot. Spock compares his brain development to that of a Vulcan child, but Jim’s approaches to different problems are unconventional. For instance, when facing a three-dimensional photo puzzle, instead of moving the cubes to solve it (as one should), Jim breaks the cubes and assembles it accordingly.
The child also has demonstrated a remarkable aptitude in reading. Contrary to what Spock has believed, Jim doesn’t like to read fictions or fairy tales. He prefers course texts such as history, elementary mathematics and science in general. Although there are still some (several) words Jim cannot understand, he still reads those topics, occasionally consulting Spock of the things he cannot comprehend. The subjects are of beginner’s level, but the Vulcan is nevertheless impressed and can’t help be proud of young James’ brilliant mind.
“Don’t worry,” Jim suddenly says, moving the knight to the lowest level. “It’s not going anywhere.”
“You cannot move the knight in that position, James.” Spock returns white knight to its prior place. “To what are you referring?”
He gestures his head to the toy. “Oogie. You’re staring at it.”
Spock doesn’t correct him. Instead he broaches the child’s attachment to the object, his curiosity getting better of him despite the research he has made earlier on. “I am merely curious as to why you refuse to let it out of your sight.”
Jim shrugs, placing the knight on the second level; a correct move this time. “I don’t want to lose it.”
The Vulcan counters the move by threatening the knight with a pawn. “Would placing it in your room a better choice than carrying it around? That way, the chances of losing it would be less.”
“I need it with me.”
“Why?”
Another shrug. “It’s a warning for the others.”
“I believe I do not understand, James,” Spock admits after much thinking. “Please explain.”
Jim looks at him, blue-eyes piercing, but he doesn’t say anything and so, Spock doesn’t push the subject. They continue with their game.
Later, when Spock is to retire, Jim enters his quarters through their adjoined bathroom and climbs on Spock’s bed. The child settles his head on Spock’s torso as the Vulcan commands the temperature to be lowered by few degrees to accommodate Jim.
Surprisingly, the inanimate object was not with him. “Where is your toy, James?”
Jim hmmed, eyes close. “In my room. I don’t need him here because you’re here.”
“Is that so?” Spock intones, strangely pleased.
“Oogie is the baddest of all monsters,” Jim says with a nod. “I captured it, so it’ll make other monsters go away. But I know you’ll protect me better!” Spock’s eyebrow elevates. “You’re my Ihwaz, Spock.”
There is a tingling in his gut that Spock doesn’t wish to interpret. “I see. Thank you, James.” He runs a hand through the child’s hair.
“G’night,” Jim mumbles before eventually drifting off.
Spock returns his attention on the PADD he’s reading, a small smile on his lips. Even without Jim telling him that, Spock is certain that he will always endeavor to protect him, no matter what and no matter from whom.
That is an Ihwaz’s promise.
More to come! =)
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Ihwaz = comes from a name of a rune stone, which is a stone of "protection" or "defense". I took the liberty to translate it to "protector".
PS. Oogie Boogie & Skellington (from The Nightmare Before Christmas) are owned by Mr. Tim Burton (and Disney, I suppose). ;p