Beyond Words (part 1)
Summary: An exhausted Spock accidentally calls Kirk "Ashayam" while on duty. Kirk is determined to find out what it means.
Fandom: Star Trek (The Alternate Original Series)
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
(cross posted to AO3)
To be honest, Jim wasn’t a morning person on the best of days, and though time in space didn’t quite feel the same as it did on Earth, Monday mornings were still unequivocally the worst of the lot. And really, spending the better part of the previous week locked in a holding cell with a number of his fellow Bridge crew hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park. The stressful last few days combined with the shitty universal constant that was a Monday morning had just made it all the more difficult for Jim to drag himself out of bed in time for Alpha shift.
The blearily nodded salutes from the rest of the bridge crew and the yawned “Keptin on ze bridge” from Chekov told Jim that the rest of the team would also prefer to be resting after the last four and a half days. Sulu was bent possessively over a cup of black coffee so strong the smell alone made the hairs on the Captain’s neck prickle. Uhura, even with the fading bruises on her jaw and eye, looked the most put together; but Spock - who was usually a very close, very polished second - looked worse than the rest of them combined, despite not actually having been a prisoner himself.
The Commander hadn’t beamed down with the other senior members to meet with the officials of Axilay 9. Instead, he had stayed behind to work on an experiment in the science labs, and to watch over Beta crew as they got in some practice time at running the ship with their supervisors away. This of course had meant that when the slightly panicked com came through that the away team had all been taken prisoner by a renegade militant group, Spock and the Beta team were the ones to mount a rescue.
The Vulcan, being the senior most officer on ship, had taken command and - as Jim had learned upon finally returning to the Enterprise late last night - literally hadn’t rested until the rescue mission had been a success.
Jim sat in his chair, rubbing absentmindedly at his knee which had a phantom ache - one of the renegade Axilayans had stomped it on the second day held in the cramped prison, and though Bones had been able to heal it quickly once they were back on the Enterprise, the memory of the pain hadn’t yet faded.
As he sat, Jim let his eyes glance over Spock. The Vulcan had the faintest green bruises under his eyes, the only outward appearance of tiredness that would be visible to the casual observer. But it had been years since Jim could call his friendship with Spock ‘casual’ and he could easily tell that Spock’s shoulders were slouched the tiniest bit - unimportant on anyone else, the miniscule slump was a sure sign of exhaustion in his first officer.
“Mr Spock, report” Jim said, breaking the drowsy quiet of the morning.
“We left orbit around Axilay 9 yesterday evening at 2100 hours, Captain. This morning at 0200 we received new orders from Star Fleet and are now making our way to the Sharleei Moon colony in the Drieht system to deliver the medical supplies we obtained from Starbase L’apann two weeks ago.”
Jim nodded as he flicked through his PADD, glancing quickly over the screen to check he had received the orders. Above the message flagged ‘Starfleet’ in his inbox sat Spock’s report from the last few days - the ‘received’ time stamp read 03:43am. Had the stubborn idiot really stayed up until quarter to four in the morning just to finish a report that could have easily waited another few days? Judging by what Jim knew of his first officer, combined with the slowed cadence of Spock’s speech and still slumped shoulders, Jim was going to guess ‘Yes’.
“The journey should only take us twenty-eight or so hours.” Spock finished his report - he hadn’t turned around as he spoke, instead appearing to read straight from the screen in front of him.
Jim raised an eyebrow.
Twenty-eight ‘or so’ hours? Usually the Vulcan had everything calculated to the nth degree and memorised perfectly after a single read through. The lack of specificity combined with the early time stamp on Spock’s report (to say nothing of his apparent reliance on his computer for notes) only added to Jim’s worry, and he sighed gustily as he stretched his back and felt it crack. Normally he wouldn’t call Spock out in front of the other crew members, but Jim’s concern for Spock’s health currently overrode his concern for his friend’s professional pride.
“Spock, are you sure you should be working? You’re exhausted - maybe you should go rest.”
“That is unnecessary. I am fine, Ashayam.”
Jim frowned in confusion just as there was a gasped “oh my God” from the corner behind him, and he looked over his shoulder to see Uhura staring at Spock in shock. Everyone else on the bridge had stopped what they were doing and were sharing confused looks - what had the Commander called the Captain?
There was an aborted movement to Jim’s right and he turned back to see Spock had frozen, his hands now unmoving on the buttons in front of him. The slump in the Vulcan’s shoulders had disappeared, replaced with a rigidity that made Jim feel tense just to look at. It took him a second to realise what else had changed about his first officer, but after a moment Jim was startled to realise that Spock’s pointed ears had flushed a deep green.
Was he- was Spock embarrassed?
“Sorry, what was that Commander?”
Spock jolted at his Captain’s voice breaking the increasingly awkward silence, and the Vulcan did the unexpected - he stood from his post and turned to face Jim. The usually sharp cheekbones were softened by the same green blush as his upturned ears and his eyes refused to meet Jim’s, instead staring a little to the left of his Captain’s face.
“I believe you may be correct after all, Captain. I am not currently performing at optimal levels - I request permission to retire to my quarters. I shall arrange for ensign Lopez to replace me.”
“Of course you can go rest Spock, but what-”
“Thank you, Captain,” Spock spoke over Jim hurriedly and then, without waiting to be dismissed or even giving a salute, he turned and walked swiftly from the room.
There was a long silence that was broken only by the swish of the closing turbolift doors shutting closed behind the fleeing officer, the quiet continuing for a few more moments after he’d gone.
“What the hell was that about?” Jim wondered aloud, and none of his crew responded. Everyone shrugged and returned to their jobs, murmuring quietly amongst themselves, all equally confused.
At her station, Lieutenant Uhura bit her lip indecisively before sighing quietly and bringing up a piece of code.
She knows exactly what she’s changing, has had this particular piece of cipher memorised from two weeks into her second xenolinguistics paper. Her assistant professor had lifted an eyebrow at her and said “excellent work Cadet Uhura” in a measured tone, approval shining quietly from his eyes. It hadn’t taken long for her and Spock to become friends (even if it’d taken much longer for them to become more) and soon Uhura had convinced him into regular social meetings. They hadn’t been dates - not at that point, anyway - and conversation had remained strictly academic for the first few weeks. Fairly early in their acquaintance they had met at one of the cafés on campus and his Starfleet duties - those other than teaching - had come up. They’d talked for hours; she’d had coffee and he’d had green tea.
A rush of remembered fondness quickened her hands, and it only took Uhura the better part of an hour to finish the edit; it was a quiet morning on bridge and coding wasn’t her specialty - but it was a language of a sort nonetheless and eventually the patterns and rhythms flowed similarly. She was pleased with the result, and glad that she was done before Kirk could notice and ask her what exactly she had been changing in the Enterprise’s translator database.
Uhura clicked back into a recording of the away mission on Axilay 9 and settled back into her official work, secure in the knowledge that there were now only three people on the whole ship who would be able to find the Vulcan to Standard translation of the term ‘Ashayam’.
The end of Alpha shift eventually rolled around and Jim followed his yawning crew to the Mess hall for some food. After grabbing some replicated tomato soup and toast, Jim made his way over to where Sulu and Chekov were chatting animatedly. Uhura sat with them, but was ignoring their antics to focus on her meal.
“Keptin!” Chekov said excitedly as Jim sat down. “Ve vere just vondering - do you speak Vulcan?”
Jim took a second to parse through the heavy accent before shaking his head.
“Afraid not - I know some Klingon and enough French to get me by, but spoken languages were never my specialty.”
Sulu gestured to Uhura, who was still determinedly ignoring their conversation as she chewed on her food methodically.
“Uhura won’t help us. Says to mind our own business and if we’d been interested in knowing Vulcan then we should have picked up a class while at the Academy.”
Jim raised an eyebrow as he dipped his toast in his soap.
“Oh really? What, you won’t even tell me?”
Uhura finished her mouthful and patted her mouth delicately with a napkin before answering.
“Is that an order, Captain?”
Something about the overly calm way she spoke grabbed Jim’s attention, and he stared at his Lieutenant. The corners of her mouth had turned down ever so slightly, and she was uncharacteristically refusing to meet his eye.
She was uncomfortable, he realised. It was a strange look on the normally self-assured communications officer, and so Jim forced his curiosity aside to laugh off his question.
“Na, don’t worry about it Uhura, I’m not that worried.” Jim turned to Sulu and Chekov, who both looked slightly disappointed that they weren’t about to learn the translation of the mystery word.
“It’s probably just Vulcan for Captain or something and Spock got embarrassed that he slipped up. It happens when you’re tired - Chekov you slip into Russian sometimes yourself. It’s no big deal; nothing overly exciting guys, I’m sure.”
Chekov nodded reluctantly, but Sulu looked between Uhura and the Captain shrewdly, having picked up on the tension in their exchange. After a moment, however, he too nodded, the conversation changing tracks as they started to discuss the colony they were heading towards as they finished their meals.
Jim spends the early evening sparring in the gym, and despite the absence of his usual partner it’s only after he steps out of his sonic shower that he decides to check on Spock. His curiosity and concern have been sitting in the back of his mind since that morning, and after quickly pulling on some clothes, Jim makes his way out of his quarters and down the hall to Spock’s door.
There’s no answer when he knocks, and after a brief internal debate in which Jim ignores the sensible voice in his head that says Spock’s fine and instead listens to the whiney voice that demands he find out what is going on right now, he quickly pins in his override code and the door opens with a near silent swish.
Jim loves being Captain.
The room he enters is warmer than the rest of the ship, in deference to Spock’s preferences as a desert dweller; this isn’t unusual. What is unusual is that the room is dark, and Jim can only make it a few steps into the room without worrying that he’ll knock something over. He can just make out the silhouette of someone lying in the centre of the bed, apparently asleep.
Good, Jim thinks with no small amount of satisfaction. He really ran himself into the ground these past few days.
The simple fact that Spock hadn’t woken - either when Jim knocked or when he entered the Vulcan’s rooms - proved just how tired his second in command was. It was just another tell added to the list.
Jim stood just inside the doorway and frowned as he considered Spock’s behaviour that morning on the bridge - in particular his slip up.
Ashayam.
It was killing him, not knowing what that word meant. Uhura’s reaction, both to Spock’s saying it in the first place and at lunch time, simply flamed the curiosity burning inside him. A flash of inspiration hit at the thought of his communications officer, and Jim decided then and there that he was going to get to the bottom of this - after all, he had official translation systems at his disposal. Why not use them?
With one last fond look at his sleeping XO, Jim left the Vulcan’s quarters, his shoulders set in determination. It wasn’t prying; not really. It was simply concern for his officer; a passing interest into the culture of one of his closest friends.
And Spock was one of his dearest friends, Jim had realised some months ago. The three and a bit years they had spent together exploring space had certainly seen some changes in their relationship. At one point Jim had thought that Spock would be, at best, a rival - at worst, an enemy. And while they certainly still competed against one another (Jim knew Spock kept a running score of wins and losses when they played chess) their interactions had mellowed over the long months.
Perhaps ‘mellowed’ wasn’t quite the right word. There was still the tension between them that had at first manifested as negatively as possible - anger, resentment, contention. But as time passed that tension had transformed, and suddenly rather than fighting against each other they were working in tandem so effectively that the Brass at Starfleet often joked the two were reading each other’s mind. Over time the intense dislike Jim had felt for Spock had slowly but surely changed into a deep-seated respect and a half-intrigued, half-exasperated affection. Their relationship had… settled - into what it had always meant to be, if the late Ambassador Spock was correct (and he usually had been, Jim thought with fond remembrance).
As it was now, the two of them rarely spent free time apart - looking back, perhaps Jim shouldn’t have been so surprised when he learned of Spock and Uhura’s split. Near the end Spock had spent more time with his Captain than he had with his girlfriend - that was always going to be a bad sign, Jim thought ruefully. Thankfully the two had remained friends; he didn’t quite know how they managed it so seamlessly, going from a relationship back to a friendship - but they had, and Jim was grateful his top of the line command team hadn’t fallen apart alongside their romantic relationship.
Thinking about Uhura and Spock reminded Jim of his purpose in returning to his rooms, and he quickly made his way over to his desk and, more importantly, the computer he kept there.
It didn’t take him long to load up Starfleet’s Translator software.
“Computer, translate from Vulcan to Standard: Ashayam.”
“No results found.”
Jim paused, confused. He was sure he had pronounced the word exactly as Spock had that morning, and the ‘fleets translator software was the best known to man and alien alike. A sudden thought occurred to him.
“Computer, translate from Old High Vulcan to Standard: Ashayam.”
“No results found.”
“Dammit,” Jim sighed, running a hand through his hair. The familiar excitement of a puzzle was settling into the back of his mind - the association with Spock made him briefly think of the Kobayashi Maru and he smirked. It seemed Spock would yet again be the source of a conundrum that he wouldn’t be able to let go. Maybe he would have to tackle this puzzle from a different angle, like he had the unbeatable test. After a minute’s thought, Jim brought up the software history logs.
And there it was. In the Enterprise translations library history:
Last Edited: Stardate 2263.97, 0837hrs Ship Time.
Edited by: Lieutenant N. Uhura.
Information protected.
That sly minx. Jim hadn’t even noticed his communications officer messing around behind him during Alpha - judging by the timestamp, Spock had barely left the bridge before Uhura had started meddling in the Enterprise’s translation archives.
Information protected, the computer said - but there was no request for a password. His Captain’s override wasn’t going to help him here. He almost thought he should have a stern word with Uhura about that, but honestly he was just too impressed.
Jim grinned and cracked his neck. Looked like he was doing this the old-fashioned way. It only took him a few clicks to bring up the source code for the translator software and Jim settled more comfortably in his chair, familiarising himself with the encryption. He was on his second skim through when he realised that, actually - he didn’t need to familiarise himself with the security measures Uhura had implanted into the software; he already knew it. But why would Uhura use the same code that Spock had designed for the Kobayashi Maru - it was common knowledge that he’d hacked the test, and Uhura was smart enough to know that he’d be able to get around the coding again, even if it was implemented differently to account for the differences in software.
Unless she meant for him to break through.
But that didn’t make sense - if Uhura wanted Jim to know the translation, why hadn’t she just told him earlier at lunch? Why hide the information away in the first place - though, if she had truly wanted to keep the edit a secret, why not erase the record of her interference?
The only conclusion Jim could come to was that Uhura had locked the translation away not from Jim, but from the rest of the crew - and thinking back to the enquiring gleam in Sulu and Chekov’s eyes at lunch, the curious murmurs that morning as Spock had left the bridge… maybe Uhura had done so with good reason. The fact that she had chosen to leave the trail of breadcrumbs for Jim to stumble upon, the use of code that she knew he was familiar with; it all suggested that while Uhura hadn’t wanted anyone else to know the translation, she thought that Jim should know what it was Spock had called him.
That was as good an invitation as he was going to get, and Jim got started editing. It was delicate, detail heavy work, but he knew this code and for someone who hadn’t specialised, Uhura’s programming was clean and easy to work with - if you knew what had to be done. It took him a just over half an hour, but eventually he once again had full access to the translation archives, and Jim sat back and stretched smugly.
“Computer, translate from Vulcan to Standard: Ashayam.”
“Ashayam: meaning ‘beloved’ in the Vulcan language. Used as a term of endearment.”
Jim felt his jaw drop and he stared at the screen of his computer in dazed disbelief. His ears were buzzing and his tongue felt dry and clumsy in his mouth.
Well.
No wonder Uhura had locked the translator.
“Bones! Bones!” Jim banged on the door of his Chief Medical Officers rooms, barely waiting for the doors to open fully before he was barging past his friend.
“Jim I swear to God if this isn’t an emergency I will sew your mouth shut and knock you out in that order.” McCoy growled as he answered his door. “It’s getting on one in the morning and after this past week I’d appreciate a little shut eye!”
Bones’ pyjamas weren’t regulation; they were blue and white striped flannel, and Jim bit his tongue to stop a comment about the old-fashioned sleepwear escaping - he wouldn’t make that mistake again. Instead he waved his hand apologetically at the doctor, seating himself on the bed.
“I know, I won’t take long Bones, I just- I’m freaking out a bit.”
McCoy eyed his Captain shrewdly, crossing his arms.
“This is about the hobgoblin.”
“Says who?” Jim replies immediately, and McCoy groaned as he tiredly ran a hand down his face.
“I am not paid to be your damn marriage counsellor Jim.”
“That!” Jim said, jumping up and pointing. “That’s what this is about! Um - Spock. You’re always making jokes about me and Spock. Why?”
“Because you’re idiots, that’s why. Seriously Jim, what’s this about? Really.”
Jim paced the room a bit and McCoy watched his friend; the blond was almost manic with motion, tugging a hand through his hair, picking up the odd ornament and fiddling with it.
“You know Spock’s fine, right? He comm’d me this morning to let me know he was off duty - for the records, y’know. But I checked on him earlier this evening; he’s fine Jim. Just needed some rest.”
Jim nodded, but his pace slowed a bit.
“Did- did you hear about why he left the bridge?” Jim asked and McCoy snorted.
“Course I did. This ship’s got more gossip in it than a county church on a Sunday. He called ya something in Vulcan. Dunno what, don’t rightly care - ‘less he insulted ya,” McCoy added as an afterthought. “He always does have the best insults, particularly when it’s your giant head that needs deflating. Anything good this time?”
Jim scowled and resumed his seat on the bed.
“No, thank you, he didn’t insult me. He-” and here Jim trails off, and if McCoy hadn’t seen it himself he might not have believed the blush that spread across his Captain’s cheeks.
“Bones,” Jim says, desperately confused, “Spock called me ‘beloved’. Ashayam.”
McCoy stares at Jim for a full minute in silence, before he raises his eyebrows.
“Jimbo is this supposed to surprise me or something?”
Jim gapes at his MCO.
“What? Yes! He basically called me sweetheart! What do I do with that information Bones?! Was he just tired? Did he mean it? Or is it like when you accidentally call your teacher ‘Mom’? What if-”
“Oh my God.” McCoy interrupts and grabs Jim by the arm, dragging him off the bed. “That’s it. Out. I am too damn tired to deal with your love life, Jim. Honestly, you come in here banging on like it’s the end of the Goddamn galaxy or something,” the doctor shakes his head disparagingly as he pushes his friend out the door. “When really you just need to get your head outta your arse and talk to Spock. Honestly. Why’re ya panicking about this? Bugger off back to your room and get some sleep!”
The doctor leans against the doorway, blocking Jim from entering again. The blond stares at his friend in frustration.
“I’m not panicking,” Jim corrects with exhausted, slightly wild eyes. “I am- I am seeking advice. Obviously I shouldn’t have tried asking unhelpful, grumpy old men like you!”
Bones sighs - Jim’s comebacks get weaker the less sleep he’s had. He needs to send his Captain to go rest before he’s having to take Alpha shift off to sleep as well. Lord save him from these two idiots.
“Jim. This is all very simple. You have three questions to answer, alright? One: Do you like that pointy-eared git? Two: Does Spock like ya back? Now, these first two are, in my professional opinion, pretty damn easy - because going by the way you two idiots moon over each other, I’mma guess that’s a big ol’ ‘Yes!’. This last question’s the important one though. Question number three;” Bones leans forward with a sly look on his face. Jim leans in to hear what his friend is going to say and jumps back when the doctor reaches out and buffs him upside the head. “Why are ya still at my door?!”
Jim swears and shoots a look of mock betrayal at his supposed best friend, who simply sighs at him before grabbing at his shoulder with a gentle shake. “Seriously Jim. Go to your rooms and sleep - this will all look simpler in the morning. Doctor’s orders!”
And with that Bones briefly squeezes Jim’s shoulder and steps back into his room, the door shutting behind him. Jim stands and stares at the closed doors for a few moments before he turns and starts making his way to his quarters.
Maybe Bones was right, Jim thought as he rubbed his head where the doctor had gently slapped him (so much for ‘do no harm’!).
Maybe he was overreacting.
Yeah, Jim thought as he got ready for bed.
It’d all look simpler in the morning.
Read Part Two Here!