Long Way Home part ten
Part Ten
By the time the Enterprise reached Omega Station, Jim’s side had healed with just the trace of a scar. Omega Station was at the end of the space merchants’ run. It was a sedate little station, located just outside of two colonized star systems that grew mainly agricultural stock that they traded for tech and luxuries. It reported little crime, and from all reports Jim had read on it, there was little to no seedy underworld.
“Oh, come on,” Jim protested at the transporter terminal.
“I have swapped shifts with Hikaru!” Chekov beamed at him. “Lieutenant Uhura said I should go have fun.”
Jim slapped a hand over his face. “I’m going to kill Bones.”
“Captain?” Chekov looked hopeful, like the blond Labrador puppies Jim had seen in pet store ads back in Iowa.
“I - it’s - oh, hell.” Jim dropped his hand with a sigh. “Come on, then.”
“Yes, Captain!”
Jim was about to give the go ahead to the wide-eyed transporter operator when Bones ambled his way into the room.
“Bones,” Jim grit out.
“What the…hell?” Bones stared at Chekov.
“This wasn’t you?”
“Are you out of your damn mind?”
“Are we going, Captain? Doctor McCoy?” Chekov glanced between them, eyes wide and hopeful.
Bones’ shoulders slumped. “Aw, fuck.”
“Shut up,” Jim pointed to the pad next to him. “You’re not leaving me.”
“Goddamn it all to hell!”
As it turned out, it probably would have been better for them if they’d stayed on the ship.
“Captain Kirk!”
Swarms of reporters found them entering the promenade. Chekov had skittered back, Jim framed in the door alone. In minutes, Jim was separated from Bones and his young crewman. Recorders were being pushed into his face. There were bright lights shining in his eyes. More than one hand groped his ass.
“Any response -”
“…trial of you stepfather…”
“…allegations of abuse…”
“…rumored sexual deviance…”
“Excuse me,” Jim put his head down and tried to peer through the herd. “Please. Excuse me.”
“…recent arrest of slavers…”
“…concerted effort against…”
“…child abuse and neglect…”
“…known cause to…”
“…avenge your…”
“Please,” Jim let his elbows do some talking. Someone was waving at him from a side door. “Excuse me.”
Bones reached out and with Chekov’s help, they caught Jim’s other hand. More questions exploded behind them as Bones shouted at the reporters and Uhura herded them to the transporter pad.
“Goddamn crazy people!” Jim threw his hands into the air. “Bones - Bones. Stop feeding them!”
“I had not expected such a crowd,” Chekov said. “Are they always so eager for news?”
“That is not normal,” Jim spat.
“Sir,” Uhura touched Jim’s arm, light and sure. “I believe they were tipped off.”
“I’ll agree with you there. I saw the Earth Tribune out there.”
“Sir…”
“For god’s sake, Uhura. Just call me Jim when we’re off duty.”
“Jim,” she said. “We should get you back on board.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Jim collared Bones as he was about to storm back out at the press of reporters who were pushed up against the glass doors.
“Bones. Bones. They have recorders.”
“I’ll give them something to report.”
“That’s what they’re looking for, old man. Come on.”
“Uhura to Spock,” the woman said. “Four to beam over.”
Bones was still shouting as they materialized. “Goddamn bullshit!”
Jim sighed, feeling the headache bloom behind his eyes. “Let’s go see how bad this is.”
It was pretty bad. Jim stared at the computer screen in his quarters, a knuckle pressed to his lips. Clips of Frank’s trial spilled out from multiple browser windows. Bullet point quick reference guides of Jim’s early medical history were paired up with numerous hypothetical reasons as to how he had come up with the injuries listed.
“I really was a clumsy kid,” Jim said. Spock, who had been standing at his side, gripped Jim’s shoulder. Jim tensed in the chair, but the hand did not withdraw.
“They’re going crazy over this,” Bones had his head in his hands.
“Mom’s never given interviews before,” Jim narrowed his gaze on the clips of his mother, pale and with red-rimmed eyes, clutching a tissue in one hand, Sam’s hand in the other. Sam, Jim was pleased to note, was looking more and more sour with each interview. “People still swarm over news of the Kelvin. Especially now with Vulcan and all,” Jim glanced up at Spock. “Sorry.”
“You have done nothing to warrant an apology.”
“What I don’t understand is why this trial is being publicized at all,” Uhura had her arms folded over her chest and a sharp gaze for the screen.
“The Admirals hate me.”
“They don’t hate you, Jim.”
“Some of them do, Bones, and we both know it.”
“You can’t have…” Then Uhura shut her mouth with a click.
“No, Jim just refused to -”
“Bones. Shut up.”
“Refused to what?” Uhura raised her eyebrows.
“Join Starfleet,” Jim said.
“Get down on his -”
“Bones!” Jim jerked forward, panic slicing through him.
“Sorry,” but Bones said it to the floor. Uhura’s scowl was back.
“She’s right though,” Jim marshaled on. Spock’s hand was warm on his shoulder, the thin slice of where the Vulcan’s flesh met his almost hot. “The trial should have been closed, quick to judge and all that. Frank pled innocent - on an insanity plea. That’s probably the only reason why it’s dragged on for this long.”
“And their harassment of you?”
Jim shrugged. “If Mom can get the press to focus on me and my insanity causing ways, then the more someone can leak that info to the jurors and influence the vote.”
“He killed a child.”
“Yes and if Mom’s strategy works out, she’ll have him off to some fancy institution she’s bribed the judge for instead of a hard labor penal colony for life.”
“She…” Uhura trailed off.
“Sam’s pretty pissed, though,” Jim paused one of the screens. Sam had pulled as far away as he could from Winona without leaving his chair. “Mom’s burning through the credits to get Frank good council. I bet Sam doesn’t like that too much.”
“He’s pissed about that?” Bones looked up.
Jim felt the old familiar ache spear through him. “Sam was a good brother. He just got tired of dealing with my fuck ups.”
“Jim.”
“A little tight there, Spock.” Jim patted at the Vulcan’s hand. “Don’t nerve pinch me. Again. That shit aches.”
“Jim.”
“Look,” Bones said. “There’s got to be some way to get this to stop.”
“Once Frank’s convicted, it will stop.”
“Not without dragging you into this mess.”
“I’m already in the mess.”
“Then in even worse.”
“Ah hah,” Jim froze a second screen. “I told you at least one of the Admirals hated me.” He pointed to a frozen, red-faced Admiral Macintyre.
“That one,” Spock said.
“The same one who summoned you over to the Kennedy?” Uhura studied the screen.
“The Admiral made several demeaning and derogatory remarks to Jim, as well as several that could be classified as slander,” Spock’s brow arched.
Uhura made a humming sound in her throat as her nails traced the Admiral’s picture.
“He was drunk,” Jim said.
“Drunk or not, the Admiral had no cause to act in such a manner.” Spock’s tone was stiff.
Jim snorted. “Macintyre has enough to worry about if he drags himself in front of the press. I bet Charlie would like him to shut up, too.”
“Charlie?” Uhura asked.
“Captain Macintyre of the Kennedy,” Spock said.
“You call him - oh, hell,” Bones dropped his head back into his hands. “That’s him.”
“Who is what?”
“Bones, shut up,” Jim said.
“No, I will not. I have the dermal regenerator’s records, Jim.”
Jim winced. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Wasn’t that bad?”
“It wasn’t! And I - it wasn’t -,” Jim could feel the heat spread across his face. “Look, just drop it.”
“Do you choose partners in a wish to be punished?” Spock asked.
“No!” Jim sputtered, jerking away from the Vulcan. “I damn well don’t!”
Uhura gave him a disappointed look.
“I don’t. It’s not like - sometimes things just get rough.” God, Jim couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. “Bars aren’t the best, like, whatever, and so I’ve had a rough patch? They’re never - god, just let this end.” Jim folded his arms on the desk and dropped his head to them.
“Jim.”
“Spock, look. It’s not - god, I can’t believe I’m about to say this. Women never stay, all right?” Jim kept his head down, eyes blurry as he stared at the desk. “They like me and all, and then they leave. Guys - men - it’s easier to have a fling and let it go. They don’t want anything from me, so it’s not like I’ll - I can get - whatever. Besides. I’m a captain now, right? Someone’s going to want the rank as a captain’s partner somewhere down the line. Maybe.” He heaved a sigh. “So, now that I’ve fucking humiliated myself in front of you, could you all just leave me to a night of drinking and don’t wake me up until we’re out of dock?”
The silence stretched for a long minute.
“I’ll get you my whiskey,” Bones said.
“You were always my favorite.”
“Jim…”
“Uhura, please.”
“…All right.”
A too warm hand touched Jim’s shoulder. Loneliness washed through Jim; touch was something he craved, something his ladies put up with and the men ignored. Jim could grope and hang on all he liked when a body was above him. Then he could wrap his arms around a convenient neck and pretend all he liked.
The hand withdrew and Jim was left alone. He kept his head down as McCoy returned, settling a full bottle of whiskey and a hypo next to his hand. Good old Bones. Jim’s head came up as the door hissed shut behind his friend and he had the cap off and the bottle to his mouth a second after.
Jim dreamt that night of a warm body rocking over him, hot skin pressed close against his, hands cradling his head as a deep voice murmured words he couldn’t understand into his ear.
Jim had a plan to avoid most of his senior staff until the sting of humiliation had faded, but it seemed as though they had other plans. If it wasn’t Bones, then it was Spock to meet him at the door in the morning. Uhura would shadow him to midday meals and Spock would leave with Jim at shift end. Scotty cornered Jim for checkers the first night in the crew lounge. Sulu and Chekov had motorcycle schematics the night after - a conversation that had included both Scotty and Spock at some point. Bones had pie, which out of all them, was the weirdest part.
“Shut the hell up,” Bones had glared at Jim. “You owe me a bottle of whiskey.”
“Hey!”
It took Jim a few days, but it occurred to him on the fourth night, when Uhura was arguing with Sulu on some verb specifics on an archaic Japanese word, that his crew wasn’t going to turn on him. They weren’t going to point and laugh; they weren’t going to tell all his secrets to the passing lower crewmen. Rumors still bred like tribbles on the ship, but Jim heard nothing of what he’d said come back to haunt him in the wide eyes of his regular crew. Most of what he did hear baffled him; things like spiteful tales against Admiral Macintyre and anyone else who had said a bad word about Jim. The darker rumors spun tales about getting back at his mom, but Jim ignored them. His mom could win a Klingon over - she had done so in the past to get permission to hunt for the Kelvin’s destruction area for a scrap of his father’s remains. The human press would be cakewalk for her.
Spock was the one to surprise Jim the most. The Vulcan had had very little to do with the crew lounge in the past, unless Uhura was there. Now Jim could find him there most of the week, conversing with the small group of senior staff that congregated in one corner. Spock even offered to play a game of chess with him.
“Me?” Jim checked his coffee on the way to his mouth.
“Yes. Ambassador Sparek was quite impressed by your skills. I wish to verify this fact.”
“He was impressed?” Jim knew he was grinning like a fool. He had been exchanging correspondence with the older Spock, but had been specific to keep it light. The older Vulcan seemed concerned, but did not press the matter of the news cycles after one letter. Namia, as well, continued to ask after Jim and the rest of the crew. Jim liked telling her the funny stories of day-to-day ship life.
“Yes.”
Jim didn’t know how, but he could tell that the younger Spock wasn’t quite as pleased at Jim’s delight.
“Then, uh, how about a game?” Jim found Uhura pushing a chessboard at them - with a stern frown for Spock instead of Jim for once.
Weird.
The younger Spock was more aggressive in his moves than the Ambassador. Jim still put up a fight, causing Spock to bleed pieces until Jim was forced to concede.
“Most impressive,” Spock said after the game.
Warmth bloomed in Jim’s chest. “Not half bad yourself,” he said with a wide grin.
Uhura rolled her eyes at them as Spock frowned and Bones muttered into his drink.
Their orders after the tour of the Neutral Zone were to come to the Earth Space dock in Iowa to have the Enterprise overhauled on her yearly inspection. Jim was not looking forward to the two weeks of leave they all had coming up. Frank’s trial would be coming to a conclusion and the last thing Jim wanted was to be in the same solar system as Iowa when that fiasco ended.
Orders, however, had other plans.
“A full review,” Jim slumped in his seat in the ready room.
“It is standard procedure,” Spock said.
“Great.”
“Our record is almost perfect. All of our missions have been successes,” Bones pointed out.
“Although not all could be said to be ideal.”
“I was fine,” Jim muttered. “There was no reason to send that security team.”
Spock’s chin inched up as he continued. “Our actions on matters outside of our control have also been exemplary. The Admirals can, thus, find little to no fault with our progress.”
“Oh, yes they can,” Bones muttered.
As it turned out, both of them were right.
Part Eleven
By the time the Enterprise reached Omega Station, Jim’s side had healed with just the trace of a scar. Omega Station was at the end of the space merchants’ run. It was a sedate little station, located just outside of two colonized star systems that grew mainly agricultural stock that they traded for tech and luxuries. It reported little crime, and from all reports Jim had read on it, there was little to no seedy underworld.
“Oh, come on,” Jim protested at the transporter terminal.
“I have swapped shifts with Hikaru!” Chekov beamed at him. “Lieutenant Uhura said I should go have fun.”
Jim slapped a hand over his face. “I’m going to kill Bones.”
“Captain?” Chekov looked hopeful, like the blond Labrador puppies Jim had seen in pet store ads back in Iowa.
“I - it’s - oh, hell.” Jim dropped his hand with a sigh. “Come on, then.”
“Yes, Captain!”
Jim was about to give the go ahead to the wide-eyed transporter operator when Bones ambled his way into the room.
“Bones,” Jim grit out.
“What the…hell?” Bones stared at Chekov.
“This wasn’t you?”
“Are you out of your damn mind?”
“Are we going, Captain? Doctor McCoy?” Chekov glanced between them, eyes wide and hopeful.
Bones’ shoulders slumped. “Aw, fuck.”
“Shut up,” Jim pointed to the pad next to him. “You’re not leaving me.”
“Goddamn it all to hell!”
As it turned out, it probably would have been better for them if they’d stayed on the ship.
“Captain Kirk!”
Swarms of reporters found them entering the promenade. Chekov had skittered back, Jim framed in the door alone. In minutes, Jim was separated from Bones and his young crewman. Recorders were being pushed into his face. There were bright lights shining in his eyes. More than one hand groped his ass.
“Any response -”
“…trial of you stepfather…”
“…allegations of abuse…”
“…rumored sexual deviance…”
“Excuse me,” Jim put his head down and tried to peer through the herd. “Please. Excuse me.”
“…recent arrest of slavers…”
“…concerted effort against…”
“…child abuse and neglect…”
“…known cause to…”
“…avenge your…”
“Please,” Jim let his elbows do some talking. Someone was waving at him from a side door. “Excuse me.”
Bones reached out and with Chekov’s help, they caught Jim’s other hand. More questions exploded behind them as Bones shouted at the reporters and Uhura herded them to the transporter pad.
“Goddamn crazy people!” Jim threw his hands into the air. “Bones - Bones. Stop feeding them!”
“I had not expected such a crowd,” Chekov said. “Are they always so eager for news?”
“That is not normal,” Jim spat.
“Sir,” Uhura touched Jim’s arm, light and sure. “I believe they were tipped off.”
“I’ll agree with you there. I saw the Earth Tribune out there.”
“Sir…”
“For god’s sake, Uhura. Just call me Jim when we’re off duty.”
“Jim,” she said. “We should get you back on board.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Jim collared Bones as he was about to storm back out at the press of reporters who were pushed up against the glass doors.
“Bones. Bones. They have recorders.”
“I’ll give them something to report.”
“That’s what they’re looking for, old man. Come on.”
“Uhura to Spock,” the woman said. “Four to beam over.”
Bones was still shouting as they materialized. “Goddamn bullshit!”
Jim sighed, feeling the headache bloom behind his eyes. “Let’s go see how bad this is.”
It was pretty bad. Jim stared at the computer screen in his quarters, a knuckle pressed to his lips. Clips of Frank’s trial spilled out from multiple browser windows. Bullet point quick reference guides of Jim’s early medical history were paired up with numerous hypothetical reasons as to how he had come up with the injuries listed.
“I really was a clumsy kid,” Jim said. Spock, who had been standing at his side, gripped Jim’s shoulder. Jim tensed in the chair, but the hand did not withdraw.
“They’re going crazy over this,” Bones had his head in his hands.
“Mom’s never given interviews before,” Jim narrowed his gaze on the clips of his mother, pale and with red-rimmed eyes, clutching a tissue in one hand, Sam’s hand in the other. Sam, Jim was pleased to note, was looking more and more sour with each interview. “People still swarm over news of the Kelvin. Especially now with Vulcan and all,” Jim glanced up at Spock. “Sorry.”
“You have done nothing to warrant an apology.”
“What I don’t understand is why this trial is being publicized at all,” Uhura had her arms folded over her chest and a sharp gaze for the screen.
“The Admirals hate me.”
“They don’t hate you, Jim.”
“Some of them do, Bones, and we both know it.”
“You can’t have…” Then Uhura shut her mouth with a click.
“No, Jim just refused to -”
“Bones. Shut up.”
“Refused to what?” Uhura raised her eyebrows.
“Join Starfleet,” Jim said.
“Get down on his -”
“Bones!” Jim jerked forward, panic slicing through him.
“Sorry,” but Bones said it to the floor. Uhura’s scowl was back.
“She’s right though,” Jim marshaled on. Spock’s hand was warm on his shoulder, the thin slice of where the Vulcan’s flesh met his almost hot. “The trial should have been closed, quick to judge and all that. Frank pled innocent - on an insanity plea. That’s probably the only reason why it’s dragged on for this long.”
“And their harassment of you?”
Jim shrugged. “If Mom can get the press to focus on me and my insanity causing ways, then the more someone can leak that info to the jurors and influence the vote.”
“He killed a child.”
“Yes and if Mom’s strategy works out, she’ll have him off to some fancy institution she’s bribed the judge for instead of a hard labor penal colony for life.”
“She…” Uhura trailed off.
“Sam’s pretty pissed, though,” Jim paused one of the screens. Sam had pulled as far away as he could from Winona without leaving his chair. “Mom’s burning through the credits to get Frank good council. I bet Sam doesn’t like that too much.”
“He’s pissed about that?” Bones looked up.
Jim felt the old familiar ache spear through him. “Sam was a good brother. He just got tired of dealing with my fuck ups.”
“Jim.”
“A little tight there, Spock.” Jim patted at the Vulcan’s hand. “Don’t nerve pinch me. Again. That shit aches.”
“Jim.”
“Look,” Bones said. “There’s got to be some way to get this to stop.”
“Once Frank’s convicted, it will stop.”
“Not without dragging you into this mess.”
“I’m already in the mess.”
“Then in even worse.”
“Ah hah,” Jim froze a second screen. “I told you at least one of the Admirals hated me.” He pointed to a frozen, red-faced Admiral Macintyre.
“That one,” Spock said.
“The same one who summoned you over to the Kennedy?” Uhura studied the screen.
“The Admiral made several demeaning and derogatory remarks to Jim, as well as several that could be classified as slander,” Spock’s brow arched.
Uhura made a humming sound in her throat as her nails traced the Admiral’s picture.
“He was drunk,” Jim said.
“Drunk or not, the Admiral had no cause to act in such a manner.” Spock’s tone was stiff.
Jim snorted. “Macintyre has enough to worry about if he drags himself in front of the press. I bet Charlie would like him to shut up, too.”
“Charlie?” Uhura asked.
“Captain Macintyre of the Kennedy,” Spock said.
“You call him - oh, hell,” Bones dropped his head back into his hands. “That’s him.”
“Who is what?”
“Bones, shut up,” Jim said.
“No, I will not. I have the dermal regenerator’s records, Jim.”
Jim winced. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Wasn’t that bad?”
“It wasn’t! And I - it wasn’t -,” Jim could feel the heat spread across his face. “Look, just drop it.”
“Do you choose partners in a wish to be punished?” Spock asked.
“No!” Jim sputtered, jerking away from the Vulcan. “I damn well don’t!”
Uhura gave him a disappointed look.
“I don’t. It’s not like - sometimes things just get rough.” God, Jim couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. “Bars aren’t the best, like, whatever, and so I’ve had a rough patch? They’re never - god, just let this end.” Jim folded his arms on the desk and dropped his head to them.
“Jim.”
“Spock, look. It’s not - god, I can’t believe I’m about to say this. Women never stay, all right?” Jim kept his head down, eyes blurry as he stared at the desk. “They like me and all, and then they leave. Guys - men - it’s easier to have a fling and let it go. They don’t want anything from me, so it’s not like I’ll - I can get - whatever. Besides. I’m a captain now, right? Someone’s going to want the rank as a captain’s partner somewhere down the line. Maybe.” He heaved a sigh. “So, now that I’ve fucking humiliated myself in front of you, could you all just leave me to a night of drinking and don’t wake me up until we’re out of dock?”
The silence stretched for a long minute.
“I’ll get you my whiskey,” Bones said.
“You were always my favorite.”
“Jim…”
“Uhura, please.”
“…All right.”
A too warm hand touched Jim’s shoulder. Loneliness washed through Jim; touch was something he craved, something his ladies put up with and the men ignored. Jim could grope and hang on all he liked when a body was above him. Then he could wrap his arms around a convenient neck and pretend all he liked.
The hand withdrew and Jim was left alone. He kept his head down as McCoy returned, settling a full bottle of whiskey and a hypo next to his hand. Good old Bones. Jim’s head came up as the door hissed shut behind his friend and he had the cap off and the bottle to his mouth a second after.
Jim dreamt that night of a warm body rocking over him, hot skin pressed close against his, hands cradling his head as a deep voice murmured words he couldn’t understand into his ear.
Jim had a plan to avoid most of his senior staff until the sting of humiliation had faded, but it seemed as though they had other plans. If it wasn’t Bones, then it was Spock to meet him at the door in the morning. Uhura would shadow him to midday meals and Spock would leave with Jim at shift end. Scotty cornered Jim for checkers the first night in the crew lounge. Sulu and Chekov had motorcycle schematics the night after - a conversation that had included both Scotty and Spock at some point. Bones had pie, which out of all them, was the weirdest part.
“Shut the hell up,” Bones had glared at Jim. “You owe me a bottle of whiskey.”
“Hey!”
It took Jim a few days, but it occurred to him on the fourth night, when Uhura was arguing with Sulu on some verb specifics on an archaic Japanese word, that his crew wasn’t going to turn on him. They weren’t going to point and laugh; they weren’t going to tell all his secrets to the passing lower crewmen. Rumors still bred like tribbles on the ship, but Jim heard nothing of what he’d said come back to haunt him in the wide eyes of his regular crew. Most of what he did hear baffled him; things like spiteful tales against Admiral Macintyre and anyone else who had said a bad word about Jim. The darker rumors spun tales about getting back at his mom, but Jim ignored them. His mom could win a Klingon over - she had done so in the past to get permission to hunt for the Kelvin’s destruction area for a scrap of his father’s remains. The human press would be cakewalk for her.
Spock was the one to surprise Jim the most. The Vulcan had had very little to do with the crew lounge in the past, unless Uhura was there. Now Jim could find him there most of the week, conversing with the small group of senior staff that congregated in one corner. Spock even offered to play a game of chess with him.
“Me?” Jim checked his coffee on the way to his mouth.
“Yes. Ambassador Sparek was quite impressed by your skills. I wish to verify this fact.”
“He was impressed?” Jim knew he was grinning like a fool. He had been exchanging correspondence with the older Spock, but had been specific to keep it light. The older Vulcan seemed concerned, but did not press the matter of the news cycles after one letter. Namia, as well, continued to ask after Jim and the rest of the crew. Jim liked telling her the funny stories of day-to-day ship life.
“Yes.”
Jim didn’t know how, but he could tell that the younger Spock wasn’t quite as pleased at Jim’s delight.
“Then, uh, how about a game?” Jim found Uhura pushing a chessboard at them - with a stern frown for Spock instead of Jim for once.
Weird.
The younger Spock was more aggressive in his moves than the Ambassador. Jim still put up a fight, causing Spock to bleed pieces until Jim was forced to concede.
“Most impressive,” Spock said after the game.
Warmth bloomed in Jim’s chest. “Not half bad yourself,” he said with a wide grin.
Uhura rolled her eyes at them as Spock frowned and Bones muttered into his drink.
Their orders after the tour of the Neutral Zone were to come to the Earth Space dock in Iowa to have the Enterprise overhauled on her yearly inspection. Jim was not looking forward to the two weeks of leave they all had coming up. Frank’s trial would be coming to a conclusion and the last thing Jim wanted was to be in the same solar system as Iowa when that fiasco ended.
Orders, however, had other plans.
“A full review,” Jim slumped in his seat in the ready room.
“It is standard procedure,” Spock said.
“Great.”
“Our record is almost perfect. All of our missions have been successes,” Bones pointed out.
“Although not all could be said to be ideal.”
“I was fine,” Jim muttered. “There was no reason to send that security team.”
Spock’s chin inched up as he continued. “Our actions on matters outside of our control have also been exemplary. The Admirals can, thus, find little to no fault with our progress.”
“Oh, yes they can,” Bones muttered.
As it turned out, both of them were right.
Part Eleven