Through Blind Men's Eyes, Part 4
Title: Through Blind Men's Eyes
Author: ladyblahblah
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating: eventual NC-17; Bones and Jim have dirty mouths, so possibly R for language at this point
Disclaimer: You think I own anything? Have you seen my car? Nothing is mine but the Noctaens and the plot, but I'm pretty sure no one's gonna fight me on that.
A/N: I appear to have been bitten by some sort of radioactive productivity bug and plan to ride with it until the fever sets in. I had a great deal of fun with this part, as Christopher Pike is a BAMF. True story. Oh, and BTW, someone who commented on the last section made a pretty good guess. But I'm not gonna say who it was, mwahahahahaha! As always, thoughts (or telepathy) indicated by italics.
Summary: The obligatory Pon Farr story . . . with a bit of a twist.
Part 1│Part 2│Part 3
Kirk was sitting in front of his console when Spock walked in through their shared bathroom. He motioned his First Officer over, not looking up until Spock had come to stand at his shoulder. His entire body, previously tense enough to snap into pieces, seemed to sigh in relief at his friend’s presence. Degree by slow degree he relaxed, and only when he felt like some semblance of his usual equilibrium had returned did he turn to smile wryly at his own body standing behind him.
“Pike will be contacting us any minute now. He was in the middle of a meeting when I called.” He ran a hand over his face. “Did you manage to contact your dad?”
“I did,” Spock confirmed. “He was expecting a response to last night’s communiqué. Though he was unprepared to see me in such a state, he has offered his assistance in getting our orders changed to New Vulcan. There will be Healers waiting to return us to our usual states upon our arrival.” He hesitated for a moment, then, “If it would not be inconvenient, I would like to request that the leave time you previously offered to secure be made available then. I should like to spend some time in . . . recuperation.”
“Yeah, of course, I’ll do what I can.” He would have to have a good look at the duty roster, he thought, to figure out how best to cover Spock’s absence. Just the thought of it, and of having to do without his First Officer, was making his head hurt. “I’m sure Command will understand the need for both of us to have a little bit of time off.”
The console gave a loud, insistent chirp, startling them both. Kirk swallowed nervously.
“That’ll be Pike.” He pulled up the call information to confirm in any case.
“So it would seem.”
“Right.” Vulcan palms apparently didn’t sweat, but Kirk was itching to rub them over his pants in any case. “Ready?”
“I believe the saying is, ‘as I shall ever be’.” A hand came to rest lightly, briefly on Kirk’s shoulder. He allowed himself a single moment to savor the sensation, then reached out and accepted the call.
“Ki-Commander Spock.” Surprise and confusion were clear on Admiral Pike’s face as he took in the face in front of him. “I’m sorry, my assistant gave me the impression that the Captain had called,” he said, his eyes flickering to the standing figure.
“Well, she wasn’t wrong,” Kirk said with a weak attempt at his usual grin. “We have a bit of a situation here, Admiral.”
The next forty minutes were the closest thing Kirk could imagine to Hell at the moment without the entire conversation also being held underwater. It took half that time for Pike to wrap his mind around so much as the concept of the problem, that the commanding officers of the ‘Fleet’s flagship had suddenly woken up in each other’s bodies. The second half he spent demanding answers that neither of them were equipped to give. By the time Spock told him that the Noctaens were apparently unable to reverse the switch-and Kirk still refused to feel guilty about that-the vein in Pike’s forehead was throbbing dangerously.
“Spock, you’re sure your Healers will be able to fix this?” he demanded, his fingers laced so tightly together on the desk that his knuckles had turned white.
“It is, of course, only theoretical,” Spock replied, and Kirk had to restrain the urge to kick him when Pike’s face started turning red. It was hell trying to convince his Vulcan that honesty was not always the best policy. “However,” he continued, “as the Noctaens informed Captain Kirk that I had the capability to return us to ourselves, I have every confidence that the trained Healers at the colony will be able to do the same. Our natural state is to have body and consciousness united; I theorize that it should only require a bridge of sorts between our minds to rectify the situation.”
“But you’re not confident enough in that theory to attempt it yourself,” Pike said shrewdly. It hadn’t been a question, but Spock inclined his head in any case.
“As I explained to Doctor McCoy, I do not have sufficient experience to ensure the Captain’s safety. As I am still a Starfleet officer it is a risk that I can not, in good conscience, take.”
“Spock, did anyone ever tell you your flawless logic is a real pain in the ass?” Kirk burst out laughing, and Pike winced. “That’s just . . . disturbing. Try to keep your amusement to yourself, Jim, or at least give me a little bit of warning next time.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now I-hold on a minute,” he cut himself off when the chirp of an incoming message on his end interrupted. He glanced away, eyes darting back and forth as he read whatever had appeared on his other monitor. Wry amusement overtook his face and he turned back to his conversation with the Enterprise. “Well, gentleman, it seems I’m to pass on your new orders,” he said dryly. “As luck would have it, Ambassador Sarek has requested an official Federation presence at the new Vulcan colony to officiate the opening of the new Earth Embassy.”
“That sounds like a job almost tailor-made for Starfleet’s flagship, Admiral.”
“Don’t be a smartass, Kirk.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll report to the colony with all due haste.” He leaned forward. “You know, this wasn’t necessary. I’d have pushed through permission for you do what you had to to fix this mess.”
“Yes, sir.” Kirk sat up straighter in his chair. “But, with all due respect, there was every chance that one or more of the other admirals in the ‘Fleet might have had objections. Especially those who might have expressed reservations, in the past, towards the idea of turning control of such an important vessel over to such a relatively young and inexperienced crew. And as Commander Spock’s father had already commed his son on an unrelated matter, it seemed prudent to take advantage of the opportunity.”
Pike gave a hum of acknowledgement. “Your ass is covered, don’t worry. Now, clearly the Ambassador knows about your . . . predicament. Who else? Have you informed the crew yet?”
“No, sir. Only Doctors McCoy and M’Benga are aware of the situation, and it wasn’t so much that we told them as they told us.” He grinned briefly. “Tough to say who was more surprised when I woke up in Sickbay, me or Bones. We have a meeting with the senior staff scheduled at 1600 to fill them in on what’s going on.”
“All right, then. That gives us-” He checked his chronometer. “-thirty minutes to figure out who the hell’s going to be running the ‘Fleet’s pride and joy.”
“I hope to god Bones thought to brief everyone,” Kirk said as they headed for Briefing Room A after Pike had signed off. “That’s not a conversation I want to have ever, ever again. We switched bodies; it’s not that difficult a concept to grasp, is it?”
“Jim, the basics of what has happened to us exists so far from the realm of rational thought that I count us fortunate that none of those who have been exposed to the situation have suffered any sort of a mental break.”
Kirk laughed despite himself. “I suppose you have a point. Still, once you’ve dealt with time-traveling Romulans and been shunted into an alternate timeline it seems like it would take more than this to phase you.”
He was sure this time that he hadn’t imagined the twitch at the corner of Spock’s mouth. “Indeed,” was all he said, however, and they slowed as one as they approached the briefing room.
“Right,” Kirk muttered. “Round two.”
He was grateful to Bones the second they stepped into the room, when they were met by five pairs of eyes staring in a blatant mix of concern and curiosity. McCoy must have taken care of the worst of it, then.
“I’m guessing you’ve all been caught up to speed,” he said, and took the chair at the head of the table. Spock seated himself to his right, and Kirk watched the entire bridge crew go ashen.
“Oh god, it’s really true,” Uhura said quietly. She looked, Kirk thought, as though she were caught somewhere between screaming and laughing. “I was sort of hoping this was some weird prank McCoy was pulling.”
“Despite his admitted flair for the dramatic,” Spock said, “the likelihood of Doctor McCoy abusing his status as the Chief Medical Officer aboard this vessel is so negligible as to be not worth mentioning.”
They all stared harder at that. “They . . . the keptin sounds like . . . and Mr. Spock . . .”
“Aye.” Scotty had apparently gotten some sort of sense from Chekov’s broken sputterings and agreed with him. “You know, I knew when I signed up that this ship wouldn’t ever be boring. It’s nice to be proven right.” He didn’t sound like he believed himself.
“What were you saying about a mental break?” Kirk muttered to his First Officer and reached up to rub at his temple.
“That is so weird,” Sulu said absently, his attention rooted on the visible display of emotion that Kirk was giving him. “It’s like they-”
“Switched bodies?” Kirk said harshly. He sat up straighter in his chair and watched his officers do the same. “Was I wrong in assuming that you had all been briefed on the situation?”
“No, Captain,” came the quiet chorus, and he nodded once, decisively.
“Good. You all have permission to freak the fuck out as soon as you’re off duty. For now, though, I need you to behave like the seasoned Starfleet professionals I know are in there somewhere while we figure out how to handle this.” He sat back again. “Mr. Spock?”
“Command has ordered our immediate deployment to New Vulcan in a display of goodwill and support,” Spock took over seamlessly. “At Warp three we should be able to reach our destination in just over two days, barring any unforeseen complications. Mr. Chekov, the file has been routed to your station. When our meeting has concluded, you will familiarize yourself and brief the crew at large before you plot a course for the colony.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Prior to discharging our duties, the Captain and I will visit with a group of Vulcan Healers in order to reverse our current condition. However, as far as the crew is concerned, this is a purely diplomatic mission. Per Admiral Pike’s orders, that is to remain the official report on record.”
“I want that to be clear as Tallonian crystal,” Kirk said firmly. “Spock and I will do our best to keep a low profile on the way to New Vulcan, but if anyone starts to circulate rumors it’s your job to quash them. It’s been made very clear to me, and I’m making it very clear to you, that the only people with the security clearance to know about this situation are in this room right now, with the single exception of Doctor M’Benga.” He turned to McCoy. “He’s your responsibility, Bones. You make damn sure he knows that this is to be kept under wraps.”
“Yeah, I got it, Jim.”
“Now. Ship’s business.” He nodded at Spock, and his First took up the reins as though he had never relinquished them.
“Due to some confusion as to which of us is to be legally acknowledged as captain of this ship, we have been taken out of the equation entirely. Captain Kirk and I will be on mandatory medical leave for the duration of our voyage. You may tell the crew that we have both contracted a heretofore unknown illness on Lambda Noctae Prime. This disease does not appear to be contagious, but some amount of caution is advised insofar as avoiding prolonged contact with an infected crewmember. Mr. Scott, you will be in command of the Enterprise until such time as we are able to resume our duties.”
The engineer swallowed heavily and nodded. “Aye, sir.”
“Mr. Sulu, this in turn places you as second in line for command of the Enterprise. As such, you may be required to present yourself for duty at a moment’s notice. If you do not feel yourself fit or prepared for such responsibility, I would advise you to take the necessary steps to rectify your status.”
Sulu started to turn Vulcan green at that, but he bobbed his head quickly. “Yes, sir,” he managed. Kirk saw Chekov nudge his friend in silent congratulations and fought down the urge to smile.
“Lieutenant Uhura.” She came to rigid attention, her expression as serious as any Kirk had ever seen on Spock’s face. “It goes without saying that this ship’s security has been endangered. We will be down our two most senior officers for the two point three seven days that it will take us to reach the colony, thus leaving us extremely vulnerable. Increased vigilance will be required to provide us with the earliest possible alert of any potential threats. You will need your very best staff on deck for all shift rotations.”
“I’ll work out a new roster immediately, sir,” she said at once. Kirk could see the gears already turning in her head, working out which of her people to draft for duty.
“We’re going to be fine, folks,” he said, taking in each somber face in turn. “We’ll need you all at the top of your game, but I think we all know by now that there’s nothing this crew can’t handle. Only the best get to serve on the Enterprise.” He let his pride seep into his voice, pride in his ship, pride in his people, and saw it reflected in the eyes of those around him. “This might cripple another crew. Let’s show them how it’s done. Scotty?”
The other man looked confused for a moment, then started. “Right! Yes! I’m in charge now, aren’t I? So then . . . dismissed!”
Kirk’s crew all stood, unsettled but determined to perform as admirably as ever. As they gathered their PADDs and began to file out McCoy moved over to stand between Kirk and Spock.
“Jim,” he said. “I’d like to get you back into Sickbay for some more tests.”
“I told you, Bones, after I’m back in my own body you can have a diagnostic field day, but I’m really not up to it now.”
“I don’t really care whether or not you think you’re ‘up for it’,” McCoy said, his voice thick with irritation. Sulu and Chekov, lingering behind, exchanged a glance. The teenager waved Sulu on ahead of him, nodding in his commanding officers’ direction to indicate a need to talk to one of them. Meanwhile, McCoy was going on. “This whole thing is turning out to be considerably longer-term than we’d anticipated, and there’s no way to predict any side effects you might experience. I’d rather not let either of you die on my watch, if that’s perfectly okay with you.”
“Later,” Kirk said firmly. He stood and reached for his own PADD.
“Not later,” McCoy insisted. “Now.” He grabbed Kirk’s upper arm to keep him from turning away, and Kirk ripped away from the weak grip with such force that it nearly pulled the doctor off his feet.
“I said later, now fucking drop it!” he bellowed.
The room fell suddenly, oppressively silent. Kirk squeezed his eyes shut and opened them to see McCoy place a reassuring hand on Chekov’s shoulder and guide him gently from the room, speaking to him so softly that even his Vulcan ears couldn’t pick it up. He braced his hands on the table in front of him and bowed his head, baffled and drained by the sudden burst of anger.
“Well.” McCoy cleared his throat and Kirk straightened. “I think you may have scarred Chekov for life. Wanna tell me what the hell that was about?”
“I’m sorry, Bones,” he said wearily. “I don’t know . . . there’s no excuse for that, for speaking to you that way. It’s just this damned headache,” he gritted out.
“Oh, well, now I don’t feel the pressing need to get you to Sickbay,” McCoy said with a roll of his eyes, but his hands were gentle as he tilted Kirk’s head up to peer into his eyes.
“It’s nothing,” Kirk insisted, batting him away. “It wasn’t so bad last night, but now it’s . . .” He winced, pressed a hand to his temple. “It’s just so loud in here,” he said helplessly.
“Doctor,” Spock said, stepping forward calmly. “There may not be need of a full examination. I suspect that what Jim is sensing is the collective psychic weight of the rest of the crew.”
“The what?”
“The thoughts and emotions of over four hundred crewmembers. That presence would have been lessened last night during Gamma shift, when the majority of the ship’s complement was asleep, but now with Alpha and Beta shifts converging it would be considerably more difficult to withstand.”
“None of that psychic business ever gave you any trouble,” McCoy accused, and Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement.
“I have been accustomed to my abilities since birth,” he reminded them. “Jim has been thrust quite suddenly into a body that is open to psychic input, without the experience necessary to establish the shields that keep Vulcans from suffering similar overload. However, I believe that I can assist him in accessing them through guided meditation.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Kirk offered. He tried a crooked grin on McCoy. “Worth a shot, anyway, right?”
“What about you, Spock?” the doctor asked instead of answering. “Any ill effects from being trapped in that claptrap Jim calls a body?”
“None to speak of,” Spock said over Jim’s noise of protest. “It is simply a matter of . . . adjusting. I am unaccustomed to experiencing the chemical and hormone reactions of the Human body firsthand, and I am finding it difficult to regulate them as I can my own.”
McCoy snorted and slapped Spock’s shoulder. “Welcome to the Human race. All right, fine, you two can try.” He jabbed a finger at Kirk. “But if you’re still hearing voices in the morning I’m ordering your ass to Sickbay, and don’t think I won’t send a security detail to fetch you if I have to.”
“Isn’t that insubordination or something?”
“You’re on mandatory medical leave, Jimmy. Right now you don’t outrank a fruit fly.” He turned to glare at Spock. “Take care of him,” he warned, and turned on his heel to march from the room.
“I’m not hearing voices,” Kirk assured Spock on their way back to Deck Five and the quiet of their quarters. “It’s not like that. It’s just this . . . this sort of pressure. Not even that, really. More the threat of pressure. Like standing in the middle of a crowd that keeps trying to press closer.”
“An apt description. This ship’s crew is mostly comprised of Humans,” Spock replied, “who are, for a generally psi-null species, exceptionally forceful in their mental projections.” Kirk’s laugh earned a raised eyebrow. “That statement was humorous?”
“Sort of. Chancellor Laaen told me that I thought loudly. Guess it’s not just me.”
“It is not,” Spock assured him.
They reached the door to Kirk’s quarters and he keyed in the access code. Prepared this time, the scent didn’t hit him as strongly as it had the first time. He walked inside and tried to ignore the headache still throbbing in his temples.
“So.” He rubbed his hands together and turned to face his friend. “How do we do this, exactly? I have to warn you, I’ve never been great at sitting still.”
That eyebrow again, and Kirk was caught off guard by the strength of his sudden urge to lean up and take a sharp nip at it. “I confess, I find that fact singularly unsurprising.”
Kirk laughed. The tension was draining from him again. “Maybe I’ve inherited enough Vulcan control to manage it this time.”
“There are tools that can enhance your attempt. I would recommend that you determine where you will be most comfortable while I fetch them from my quarters.”
“Mmm,” Kirk nodded distractedly, already looking around. He rejected the bed out of hand; no way would he be able to relax with Spock anywhere near it, even if he didn’t look like himself at the moment. There was an empty space on the floor in front of the desk, however, that he thought might serve well enough.
“Jim.”
The voice startled him, and he whirled to find Spock regarding him quizzically, setting the items he had retrieved on the surface of Kirk’s desk.
“Wow. That was fast,” Kirk said with an uncertain laugh.
“I was gone for several minutes,” Spock said carefully. Kirk frowned.
“Huh. Guess I must’ve been woolgathering. Lost in thought,” he clarified, and rubbed his hands together again. “So what’ve we got here?”
“The first and most important step in successful meditation is the comfort of the body to prevent distraction.” Spock handed over a folded black robe. “If you will change into this, I will ready the space.”
“Yeah.” The fabric was enticingly soft against his fingers. “In front of the desk here is fine.” He paused, opened his mouth as though to say something else, but forgot what he had been about to say before he spoke. With a shrug, he turned and stepped into the ‘fresher.
Kirk stripped quickly and methodically, pointedly not thinking again. Not thinking about how easy it would be to run a hand down his chest, to explore the feeling of soft skin and the ridges of Spock’s ribcage and the intoxicating beat of his heart in his side. Not thinking about the soft robe that he slipped over his shoulders, about the idea of Spock feeling that same fabric against his bare skin. Not thinking of how easy it would be to part the folds at the front and reach the naked flesh beneath.
Vulcan discipline or no, it was almost impossible for him to force down the arousal that tried to swamp him at his non-thoughts. Almost, but not quite. When he had himself under control again he headed back into his quarters and found Spock on his knees in front of the small firepot he had retrieved, igniting a small pile of incense that was already beginning to perfume the air.
“You will need to take a seat here,” Spock said without looking up, and rose in one fluid motion. “Assume whatever position you find most comfortable.”
Kirk lowered himself, intending to sit with his legs crossed in front of him, but his body altered its course halfway to the floor, and he ended instead with his legs tucked under him, seated easily on his heels. Spock nodded in satisfaction and settled across from him, the glow from the firepot bathing Kirk’s familiar features and turning them into something exotic. Something alien. Kirk closed his eyes in defense against the sight and inhaled deeply, letting the scent of the incense calm him.
“Focus on the fire in front of you, Jim.” Spock’s words were spoken lowly, so much so that Kirk almost couldn’t make out the tones of his own voice. “The flames will be your focus.”
Kirk forced his eyes open and fixed them on the fire. It flickered bright and warm, bathing the red clay in its light. He continued to breathe deeply; the incense mixed with the Human scent that lingered in the room and a buzzing sensation began beneath his skin, odd but not unpleasant.
“The controls for a Vulcan’s mental shields are learned in childhood,” Spock intoned, “hardwired into the developing brain as deeply as language. Deeper, perhaps. The body is controlled by the mind, but the body remembers. You must relinquish control, Jim, in order to regain it.”
Normally Kirk would have had something to say about that, some comment on the irony of hearing such a thing from a Vulcan. But he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the fire in front of him, and his mouth seemed oddly disconnected from the rest of him. He inhaled.
“Release your mind’s hold.” The voice seemed to come from all around him, from inside of him, from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Be of the body, and let it remember. Let it reveal the shields to you.”
Kirk felt something tickling at the edge of his consciousness, feather-light brushes of something familiar, something welcome. He followed the sensation and found the mental equivalent of thin silk beneath his touch. It fell into place like a veil, misty and insubstantial. Another followed, and another, layer upon layer of whisper-thin cloth-not cloth energy thought need control will-that built until the pulsing pressure in his head had quieted, muffled to near-silence. He lifted his eyes then, blinking several times to bring himself back to his surroundings.
“I think it worked,” he said. He concentrated for a moment; the pressure from the other minds on the ship was being absorbed by the layers of his shields, and though the discomfort had eased he could still sense them. “Definitely better,” he proclaimed. A muscle jumped in Spock’s jaw and Kirk frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Though it seems that your warning about your predilection for movement was warranted. I found it problematic to remain in this position after the first fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen . . . huh. It didn’t feel nearly that long.” It was the second time in an hour that he had found himself losing time, and it made him nervous. “But hey.” He stood. “As long as it worked, right?”
“Captain, you should continue your meditation.” Spock stood along with him, ignoring Kirk’s glare for the moment. “You will need to practice keeping the shields in place.”
“For fuck’s sake, I’m not your captain right now, Spock. And I will continue, as soon as I’ve called Pike and briefed him on the meeting. He’s gonna get twitchy if he doesn’t hear from me soon.”
A smile flickered at the corner of Spock’s mouth. “Twitchy, Jim?”
“Yes, twitchy, and don’t pull that crap with me. You understand more than you let on, you just think it’s funny to-”
He cut himself off, a queasy feeling rising in his stomach at how closely his words mirrored what he had said in the vision that the Noctaens had forced on him. The image of Spock lying dying in his arms suddenly swamped him, and for a moment he thought he felt his hands grow sticky with blood. Then it was gone, and Spock was there in front of him, alive and whole despite the fact that it was his own blue eyes that Kirk was looking into, and he was lowering a hand that had never quite made its way to Kirk’s shoulder.
“Jim?” He wasn’t even making an effort to conceal the concern in his voice. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Kirk rubbed at his eyes and smiled, though the expression felt shaky on his face. “Just not used to meditation, I think. But practice makes perfect, right?”
“Presumably, given dedicated and consistent application, one could at least come close,” Spock said seriously, which made Kirk smile for real. “I will leave the firepot and the incense; I believe that you will benefit more from them than I would at present.”
“Are you sure?” Kirk didn’t want to protest; the incense was undeniably soothing, and it helped to mask the scent of him in the room. Still, he felt as though he should at least try. “You only have a limited supply, I wouldn’t want to use it all.”
“There will be ample opportunity to buy more at the colony,” Spock assured him. “I would prefer that you make use of what I have now.”
Kirk scolded his mind for trying to read something more into Spock’s words and nodded. “All right. Thanks.”
He had to take several minutes after Spock left to calm himself again. He hadn’t wanted his friend to go, had wanted him to stay for the rest of the day and throughout the night. The feeling was unsettling, to say the least. He enjoyed spending time with Spock, of course, but he had always been a man who liked his own space. This urge to be constantly in Spock’s company was new, and it made him distinctly uncomfortable.
Rather than taking the time to examine the feeling, Kirk seated himself in his chair and initiated a call to Starfleet Command. It went through almost immediately; Pike must have been sitting at his desk waiting for him.
“Good evening, Admiral. It is evening there now, isn’t it?”
“Sun just set,” Pike confirmed. “I’ve got a great view from my office.”
Kirk gave the cocky smirk that Pike always claimed irritated the hell out of him. “I’ve got a better one.”
“You do at that,” Pike said thoughtfully. Then, suddenly, “What the hell is going on there?”
He faltered. “The meeting, you mean? It went well, I think, or as well as could be expected. Everyone’s a little freaked out, but that’s only to be-”
“Kirk, playing dumb doesn’t suit you. You don’t really think I had you place a subspace call to brief me on a meeting I defined the damned parameters for, so let’s cut through the crap. There’s something else going on there, something you’re not telling me, and I want to know what it is.”
Kirk let his face go blank. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Bullshit, you don’t,” Pike shot back. He leaned forward, towards the monitor. “I’ve known you a long time, Jim. I was your advisor for three years at the Academy and kicking your ass at poker for two of them. You may be wearing a Vulcan’s skin, but your tells are as plain as ever. You’re holding something back, and I want to know what it is.”
“Is this part of an official inquest, Admiral?”
Pike made a frustrated noise and sat back again. “I don’t have the faintest idea how I’m even going to begin the paperwork for this one; my job will be hard enough as it is without trying to figure out how to file a gut feeling. This is just me asking. But don’t think for one second I won’t turn this official, bureaucracy be damned, if you don’t give me a straight answer here. I was going through my notes on your last transmission, and I can’t help but notice that an explanation for why the Noctaens switched the two of you is conspicuous in its absence. Let’s start there.”
Kirk sighed. “It was a gift,” he said at last. “A sort of, ‘thanks for all your help, please let us in your Federation’ thing. They said that Spock’s life was going to be endangered. I don’t know how they could know that, but based on what I’ve seen of them I didn’t have any reason to doubt them. And even if I had, I wasn’t willing to take the chance of turning them down when they said they could help me do something about it. The life of my First Officer was at stake; they were offering to help me save it.”
“And you leapt without thinking about what the consequences might be,” Pike guessed. Kirk’s smile barely tilted up the corners of his mouth.
“Someone told me once that Starfleet could use more of that sort of thing.”
“That person sounds like a real idiot.” The Admiral sighed and fixed Kirk with a measuring stare. “It’s not even close to everything, but I suppose it’ll do for now. I will be getting a full report from you when this business is concluded, Captain, and I do mean full. Don’t even think about trying to weasel your way out of it.”
“Starship captains don’t weasel, sir.”
“No, but genius-level adrenaline junkies have been known to try,” Pike said dryly. “A full report, Kirk. I’d get to working on it now.”
“I’d love to, sir, but I have to get back to my meditation.”
A disbelieving look and another frustrated noise. Then the Admiral shook his head on a reluctant laugh. “Meditation. Hell. Pike out.”
Kirk was still grinning to himself when he knelt to relight the firepot and the smell of incense filled the air again.
Part 5
Author: ladyblahblah
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating: eventual NC-17; Bones and Jim have dirty mouths, so possibly R for language at this point
Disclaimer: You think I own anything? Have you seen my car? Nothing is mine but the Noctaens and the plot, but I'm pretty sure no one's gonna fight me on that.
A/N: I appear to have been bitten by some sort of radioactive productivity bug and plan to ride with it until the fever sets in. I had a great deal of fun with this part, as Christopher Pike is a BAMF. True story. Oh, and BTW, someone who commented on the last section made a pretty good guess. But I'm not gonna say who it was, mwahahahahaha! As always, thoughts (or telepathy) indicated by italics.
Summary: The obligatory Pon Farr story . . . with a bit of a twist.
Part 1│Part 2│Part 3
Kirk was sitting in front of his console when Spock walked in through their shared bathroom. He motioned his First Officer over, not looking up until Spock had come to stand at his shoulder. His entire body, previously tense enough to snap into pieces, seemed to sigh in relief at his friend’s presence. Degree by slow degree he relaxed, and only when he felt like some semblance of his usual equilibrium had returned did he turn to smile wryly at his own body standing behind him.
“Pike will be contacting us any minute now. He was in the middle of a meeting when I called.” He ran a hand over his face. “Did you manage to contact your dad?”
“I did,” Spock confirmed. “He was expecting a response to last night’s communiqué. Though he was unprepared to see me in such a state, he has offered his assistance in getting our orders changed to New Vulcan. There will be Healers waiting to return us to our usual states upon our arrival.” He hesitated for a moment, then, “If it would not be inconvenient, I would like to request that the leave time you previously offered to secure be made available then. I should like to spend some time in . . . recuperation.”
“Yeah, of course, I’ll do what I can.” He would have to have a good look at the duty roster, he thought, to figure out how best to cover Spock’s absence. Just the thought of it, and of having to do without his First Officer, was making his head hurt. “I’m sure Command will understand the need for both of us to have a little bit of time off.”
The console gave a loud, insistent chirp, startling them both. Kirk swallowed nervously.
“That’ll be Pike.” He pulled up the call information to confirm in any case.
“So it would seem.”
“Right.” Vulcan palms apparently didn’t sweat, but Kirk was itching to rub them over his pants in any case. “Ready?”
“I believe the saying is, ‘as I shall ever be’.” A hand came to rest lightly, briefly on Kirk’s shoulder. He allowed himself a single moment to savor the sensation, then reached out and accepted the call.
“Ki-Commander Spock.” Surprise and confusion were clear on Admiral Pike’s face as he took in the face in front of him. “I’m sorry, my assistant gave me the impression that the Captain had called,” he said, his eyes flickering to the standing figure.
“Well, she wasn’t wrong,” Kirk said with a weak attempt at his usual grin. “We have a bit of a situation here, Admiral.”
The next forty minutes were the closest thing Kirk could imagine to Hell at the moment without the entire conversation also being held underwater. It took half that time for Pike to wrap his mind around so much as the concept of the problem, that the commanding officers of the ‘Fleet’s flagship had suddenly woken up in each other’s bodies. The second half he spent demanding answers that neither of them were equipped to give. By the time Spock told him that the Noctaens were apparently unable to reverse the switch-and Kirk still refused to feel guilty about that-the vein in Pike’s forehead was throbbing dangerously.
“Spock, you’re sure your Healers will be able to fix this?” he demanded, his fingers laced so tightly together on the desk that his knuckles had turned white.
“It is, of course, only theoretical,” Spock replied, and Kirk had to restrain the urge to kick him when Pike’s face started turning red. It was hell trying to convince his Vulcan that honesty was not always the best policy. “However,” he continued, “as the Noctaens informed Captain Kirk that I had the capability to return us to ourselves, I have every confidence that the trained Healers at the colony will be able to do the same. Our natural state is to have body and consciousness united; I theorize that it should only require a bridge of sorts between our minds to rectify the situation.”
“But you’re not confident enough in that theory to attempt it yourself,” Pike said shrewdly. It hadn’t been a question, but Spock inclined his head in any case.
“As I explained to Doctor McCoy, I do not have sufficient experience to ensure the Captain’s safety. As I am still a Starfleet officer it is a risk that I can not, in good conscience, take.”
“Spock, did anyone ever tell you your flawless logic is a real pain in the ass?” Kirk burst out laughing, and Pike winced. “That’s just . . . disturbing. Try to keep your amusement to yourself, Jim, or at least give me a little bit of warning next time.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now I-hold on a minute,” he cut himself off when the chirp of an incoming message on his end interrupted. He glanced away, eyes darting back and forth as he read whatever had appeared on his other monitor. Wry amusement overtook his face and he turned back to his conversation with the Enterprise. “Well, gentleman, it seems I’m to pass on your new orders,” he said dryly. “As luck would have it, Ambassador Sarek has requested an official Federation presence at the new Vulcan colony to officiate the opening of the new Earth Embassy.”
“That sounds like a job almost tailor-made for Starfleet’s flagship, Admiral.”
“Don’t be a smartass, Kirk.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll report to the colony with all due haste.” He leaned forward. “You know, this wasn’t necessary. I’d have pushed through permission for you do what you had to to fix this mess.”
“Yes, sir.” Kirk sat up straighter in his chair. “But, with all due respect, there was every chance that one or more of the other admirals in the ‘Fleet might have had objections. Especially those who might have expressed reservations, in the past, towards the idea of turning control of such an important vessel over to such a relatively young and inexperienced crew. And as Commander Spock’s father had already commed his son on an unrelated matter, it seemed prudent to take advantage of the opportunity.”
Pike gave a hum of acknowledgement. “Your ass is covered, don’t worry. Now, clearly the Ambassador knows about your . . . predicament. Who else? Have you informed the crew yet?”
“No, sir. Only Doctors McCoy and M’Benga are aware of the situation, and it wasn’t so much that we told them as they told us.” He grinned briefly. “Tough to say who was more surprised when I woke up in Sickbay, me or Bones. We have a meeting with the senior staff scheduled at 1600 to fill them in on what’s going on.”
“All right, then. That gives us-” He checked his chronometer. “-thirty minutes to figure out who the hell’s going to be running the ‘Fleet’s pride and joy.”
“I hope to god Bones thought to brief everyone,” Kirk said as they headed for Briefing Room A after Pike had signed off. “That’s not a conversation I want to have ever, ever again. We switched bodies; it’s not that difficult a concept to grasp, is it?”
“Jim, the basics of what has happened to us exists so far from the realm of rational thought that I count us fortunate that none of those who have been exposed to the situation have suffered any sort of a mental break.”
Kirk laughed despite himself. “I suppose you have a point. Still, once you’ve dealt with time-traveling Romulans and been shunted into an alternate timeline it seems like it would take more than this to phase you.”
He was sure this time that he hadn’t imagined the twitch at the corner of Spock’s mouth. “Indeed,” was all he said, however, and they slowed as one as they approached the briefing room.
“Right,” Kirk muttered. “Round two.”
He was grateful to Bones the second they stepped into the room, when they were met by five pairs of eyes staring in a blatant mix of concern and curiosity. McCoy must have taken care of the worst of it, then.
“I’m guessing you’ve all been caught up to speed,” he said, and took the chair at the head of the table. Spock seated himself to his right, and Kirk watched the entire bridge crew go ashen.
“Oh god, it’s really true,” Uhura said quietly. She looked, Kirk thought, as though she were caught somewhere between screaming and laughing. “I was sort of hoping this was some weird prank McCoy was pulling.”
“Despite his admitted flair for the dramatic,” Spock said, “the likelihood of Doctor McCoy abusing his status as the Chief Medical Officer aboard this vessel is so negligible as to be not worth mentioning.”
They all stared harder at that. “They . . . the keptin sounds like . . . and Mr. Spock . . .”
“Aye.” Scotty had apparently gotten some sort of sense from Chekov’s broken sputterings and agreed with him. “You know, I knew when I signed up that this ship wouldn’t ever be boring. It’s nice to be proven right.” He didn’t sound like he believed himself.
“What were you saying about a mental break?” Kirk muttered to his First Officer and reached up to rub at his temple.
“That is so weird,” Sulu said absently, his attention rooted on the visible display of emotion that Kirk was giving him. “It’s like they-”
“Switched bodies?” Kirk said harshly. He sat up straighter in his chair and watched his officers do the same. “Was I wrong in assuming that you had all been briefed on the situation?”
“No, Captain,” came the quiet chorus, and he nodded once, decisively.
“Good. You all have permission to freak the fuck out as soon as you’re off duty. For now, though, I need you to behave like the seasoned Starfleet professionals I know are in there somewhere while we figure out how to handle this.” He sat back again. “Mr. Spock?”
“Command has ordered our immediate deployment to New Vulcan in a display of goodwill and support,” Spock took over seamlessly. “At Warp three we should be able to reach our destination in just over two days, barring any unforeseen complications. Mr. Chekov, the file has been routed to your station. When our meeting has concluded, you will familiarize yourself and brief the crew at large before you plot a course for the colony.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Prior to discharging our duties, the Captain and I will visit with a group of Vulcan Healers in order to reverse our current condition. However, as far as the crew is concerned, this is a purely diplomatic mission. Per Admiral Pike’s orders, that is to remain the official report on record.”
“I want that to be clear as Tallonian crystal,” Kirk said firmly. “Spock and I will do our best to keep a low profile on the way to New Vulcan, but if anyone starts to circulate rumors it’s your job to quash them. It’s been made very clear to me, and I’m making it very clear to you, that the only people with the security clearance to know about this situation are in this room right now, with the single exception of Doctor M’Benga.” He turned to McCoy. “He’s your responsibility, Bones. You make damn sure he knows that this is to be kept under wraps.”
“Yeah, I got it, Jim.”
“Now. Ship’s business.” He nodded at Spock, and his First took up the reins as though he had never relinquished them.
“Due to some confusion as to which of us is to be legally acknowledged as captain of this ship, we have been taken out of the equation entirely. Captain Kirk and I will be on mandatory medical leave for the duration of our voyage. You may tell the crew that we have both contracted a heretofore unknown illness on Lambda Noctae Prime. This disease does not appear to be contagious, but some amount of caution is advised insofar as avoiding prolonged contact with an infected crewmember. Mr. Scott, you will be in command of the Enterprise until such time as we are able to resume our duties.”
The engineer swallowed heavily and nodded. “Aye, sir.”
“Mr. Sulu, this in turn places you as second in line for command of the Enterprise. As such, you may be required to present yourself for duty at a moment’s notice. If you do not feel yourself fit or prepared for such responsibility, I would advise you to take the necessary steps to rectify your status.”
Sulu started to turn Vulcan green at that, but he bobbed his head quickly. “Yes, sir,” he managed. Kirk saw Chekov nudge his friend in silent congratulations and fought down the urge to smile.
“Lieutenant Uhura.” She came to rigid attention, her expression as serious as any Kirk had ever seen on Spock’s face. “It goes without saying that this ship’s security has been endangered. We will be down our two most senior officers for the two point three seven days that it will take us to reach the colony, thus leaving us extremely vulnerable. Increased vigilance will be required to provide us with the earliest possible alert of any potential threats. You will need your very best staff on deck for all shift rotations.”
“I’ll work out a new roster immediately, sir,” she said at once. Kirk could see the gears already turning in her head, working out which of her people to draft for duty.
“We’re going to be fine, folks,” he said, taking in each somber face in turn. “We’ll need you all at the top of your game, but I think we all know by now that there’s nothing this crew can’t handle. Only the best get to serve on the Enterprise.” He let his pride seep into his voice, pride in his ship, pride in his people, and saw it reflected in the eyes of those around him. “This might cripple another crew. Let’s show them how it’s done. Scotty?”
The other man looked confused for a moment, then started. “Right! Yes! I’m in charge now, aren’t I? So then . . . dismissed!”
Kirk’s crew all stood, unsettled but determined to perform as admirably as ever. As they gathered their PADDs and began to file out McCoy moved over to stand between Kirk and Spock.
“Jim,” he said. “I’d like to get you back into Sickbay for some more tests.”
“I told you, Bones, after I’m back in my own body you can have a diagnostic field day, but I’m really not up to it now.”
“I don’t really care whether or not you think you’re ‘up for it’,” McCoy said, his voice thick with irritation. Sulu and Chekov, lingering behind, exchanged a glance. The teenager waved Sulu on ahead of him, nodding in his commanding officers’ direction to indicate a need to talk to one of them. Meanwhile, McCoy was going on. “This whole thing is turning out to be considerably longer-term than we’d anticipated, and there’s no way to predict any side effects you might experience. I’d rather not let either of you die on my watch, if that’s perfectly okay with you.”
“Later,” Kirk said firmly. He stood and reached for his own PADD.
“Not later,” McCoy insisted. “Now.” He grabbed Kirk’s upper arm to keep him from turning away, and Kirk ripped away from the weak grip with such force that it nearly pulled the doctor off his feet.
“I said later, now fucking drop it!” he bellowed.
The room fell suddenly, oppressively silent. Kirk squeezed his eyes shut and opened them to see McCoy place a reassuring hand on Chekov’s shoulder and guide him gently from the room, speaking to him so softly that even his Vulcan ears couldn’t pick it up. He braced his hands on the table in front of him and bowed his head, baffled and drained by the sudden burst of anger.
“Well.” McCoy cleared his throat and Kirk straightened. “I think you may have scarred Chekov for life. Wanna tell me what the hell that was about?”
“I’m sorry, Bones,” he said wearily. “I don’t know . . . there’s no excuse for that, for speaking to you that way. It’s just this damned headache,” he gritted out.
“Oh, well, now I don’t feel the pressing need to get you to Sickbay,” McCoy said with a roll of his eyes, but his hands were gentle as he tilted Kirk’s head up to peer into his eyes.
“It’s nothing,” Kirk insisted, batting him away. “It wasn’t so bad last night, but now it’s . . .” He winced, pressed a hand to his temple. “It’s just so loud in here,” he said helplessly.
“Doctor,” Spock said, stepping forward calmly. “There may not be need of a full examination. I suspect that what Jim is sensing is the collective psychic weight of the rest of the crew.”
“The what?”
“The thoughts and emotions of over four hundred crewmembers. That presence would have been lessened last night during Gamma shift, when the majority of the ship’s complement was asleep, but now with Alpha and Beta shifts converging it would be considerably more difficult to withstand.”
“None of that psychic business ever gave you any trouble,” McCoy accused, and Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement.
“I have been accustomed to my abilities since birth,” he reminded them. “Jim has been thrust quite suddenly into a body that is open to psychic input, without the experience necessary to establish the shields that keep Vulcans from suffering similar overload. However, I believe that I can assist him in accessing them through guided meditation.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Kirk offered. He tried a crooked grin on McCoy. “Worth a shot, anyway, right?”
“What about you, Spock?” the doctor asked instead of answering. “Any ill effects from being trapped in that claptrap Jim calls a body?”
“None to speak of,” Spock said over Jim’s noise of protest. “It is simply a matter of . . . adjusting. I am unaccustomed to experiencing the chemical and hormone reactions of the Human body firsthand, and I am finding it difficult to regulate them as I can my own.”
McCoy snorted and slapped Spock’s shoulder. “Welcome to the Human race. All right, fine, you two can try.” He jabbed a finger at Kirk. “But if you’re still hearing voices in the morning I’m ordering your ass to Sickbay, and don’t think I won’t send a security detail to fetch you if I have to.”
“Isn’t that insubordination or something?”
“You’re on mandatory medical leave, Jimmy. Right now you don’t outrank a fruit fly.” He turned to glare at Spock. “Take care of him,” he warned, and turned on his heel to march from the room.
“I’m not hearing voices,” Kirk assured Spock on their way back to Deck Five and the quiet of their quarters. “It’s not like that. It’s just this . . . this sort of pressure. Not even that, really. More the threat of pressure. Like standing in the middle of a crowd that keeps trying to press closer.”
“An apt description. This ship’s crew is mostly comprised of Humans,” Spock replied, “who are, for a generally psi-null species, exceptionally forceful in their mental projections.” Kirk’s laugh earned a raised eyebrow. “That statement was humorous?”
“Sort of. Chancellor Laaen told me that I thought loudly. Guess it’s not just me.”
“It is not,” Spock assured him.
They reached the door to Kirk’s quarters and he keyed in the access code. Prepared this time, the scent didn’t hit him as strongly as it had the first time. He walked inside and tried to ignore the headache still throbbing in his temples.
“So.” He rubbed his hands together and turned to face his friend. “How do we do this, exactly? I have to warn you, I’ve never been great at sitting still.”
That eyebrow again, and Kirk was caught off guard by the strength of his sudden urge to lean up and take a sharp nip at it. “I confess, I find that fact singularly unsurprising.”
Kirk laughed. The tension was draining from him again. “Maybe I’ve inherited enough Vulcan control to manage it this time.”
“There are tools that can enhance your attempt. I would recommend that you determine where you will be most comfortable while I fetch them from my quarters.”
“Mmm,” Kirk nodded distractedly, already looking around. He rejected the bed out of hand; no way would he be able to relax with Spock anywhere near it, even if he didn’t look like himself at the moment. There was an empty space on the floor in front of the desk, however, that he thought might serve well enough.
“Jim.”
The voice startled him, and he whirled to find Spock regarding him quizzically, setting the items he had retrieved on the surface of Kirk’s desk.
“Wow. That was fast,” Kirk said with an uncertain laugh.
“I was gone for several minutes,” Spock said carefully. Kirk frowned.
“Huh. Guess I must’ve been woolgathering. Lost in thought,” he clarified, and rubbed his hands together again. “So what’ve we got here?”
“The first and most important step in successful meditation is the comfort of the body to prevent distraction.” Spock handed over a folded black robe. “If you will change into this, I will ready the space.”
“Yeah.” The fabric was enticingly soft against his fingers. “In front of the desk here is fine.” He paused, opened his mouth as though to say something else, but forgot what he had been about to say before he spoke. With a shrug, he turned and stepped into the ‘fresher.
Kirk stripped quickly and methodically, pointedly not thinking again. Not thinking about how easy it would be to run a hand down his chest, to explore the feeling of soft skin and the ridges of Spock’s ribcage and the intoxicating beat of his heart in his side. Not thinking about the soft robe that he slipped over his shoulders, about the idea of Spock feeling that same fabric against his bare skin. Not thinking of how easy it would be to part the folds at the front and reach the naked flesh beneath.
Vulcan discipline or no, it was almost impossible for him to force down the arousal that tried to swamp him at his non-thoughts. Almost, but not quite. When he had himself under control again he headed back into his quarters and found Spock on his knees in front of the small firepot he had retrieved, igniting a small pile of incense that was already beginning to perfume the air.
“You will need to take a seat here,” Spock said without looking up, and rose in one fluid motion. “Assume whatever position you find most comfortable.”
Kirk lowered himself, intending to sit with his legs crossed in front of him, but his body altered its course halfway to the floor, and he ended instead with his legs tucked under him, seated easily on his heels. Spock nodded in satisfaction and settled across from him, the glow from the firepot bathing Kirk’s familiar features and turning them into something exotic. Something alien. Kirk closed his eyes in defense against the sight and inhaled deeply, letting the scent of the incense calm him.
“Focus on the fire in front of you, Jim.” Spock’s words were spoken lowly, so much so that Kirk almost couldn’t make out the tones of his own voice. “The flames will be your focus.”
Kirk forced his eyes open and fixed them on the fire. It flickered bright and warm, bathing the red clay in its light. He continued to breathe deeply; the incense mixed with the Human scent that lingered in the room and a buzzing sensation began beneath his skin, odd but not unpleasant.
“The controls for a Vulcan’s mental shields are learned in childhood,” Spock intoned, “hardwired into the developing brain as deeply as language. Deeper, perhaps. The body is controlled by the mind, but the body remembers. You must relinquish control, Jim, in order to regain it.”
Normally Kirk would have had something to say about that, some comment on the irony of hearing such a thing from a Vulcan. But he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the fire in front of him, and his mouth seemed oddly disconnected from the rest of him. He inhaled.
“Release your mind’s hold.” The voice seemed to come from all around him, from inside of him, from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Be of the body, and let it remember. Let it reveal the shields to you.”
Kirk felt something tickling at the edge of his consciousness, feather-light brushes of something familiar, something welcome. He followed the sensation and found the mental equivalent of thin silk beneath his touch. It fell into place like a veil, misty and insubstantial. Another followed, and another, layer upon layer of whisper-thin cloth-not cloth energy thought need control will-that built until the pulsing pressure in his head had quieted, muffled to near-silence. He lifted his eyes then, blinking several times to bring himself back to his surroundings.
“I think it worked,” he said. He concentrated for a moment; the pressure from the other minds on the ship was being absorbed by the layers of his shields, and though the discomfort had eased he could still sense them. “Definitely better,” he proclaimed. A muscle jumped in Spock’s jaw and Kirk frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Though it seems that your warning about your predilection for movement was warranted. I found it problematic to remain in this position after the first fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen . . . huh. It didn’t feel nearly that long.” It was the second time in an hour that he had found himself losing time, and it made him nervous. “But hey.” He stood. “As long as it worked, right?”
“Captain, you should continue your meditation.” Spock stood along with him, ignoring Kirk’s glare for the moment. “You will need to practice keeping the shields in place.”
“For fuck’s sake, I’m not your captain right now, Spock. And I will continue, as soon as I’ve called Pike and briefed him on the meeting. He’s gonna get twitchy if he doesn’t hear from me soon.”
A smile flickered at the corner of Spock’s mouth. “Twitchy, Jim?”
“Yes, twitchy, and don’t pull that crap with me. You understand more than you let on, you just think it’s funny to-”
He cut himself off, a queasy feeling rising in his stomach at how closely his words mirrored what he had said in the vision that the Noctaens had forced on him. The image of Spock lying dying in his arms suddenly swamped him, and for a moment he thought he felt his hands grow sticky with blood. Then it was gone, and Spock was there in front of him, alive and whole despite the fact that it was his own blue eyes that Kirk was looking into, and he was lowering a hand that had never quite made its way to Kirk’s shoulder.
“Jim?” He wasn’t even making an effort to conceal the concern in his voice. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Kirk rubbed at his eyes and smiled, though the expression felt shaky on his face. “Just not used to meditation, I think. But practice makes perfect, right?”
“Presumably, given dedicated and consistent application, one could at least come close,” Spock said seriously, which made Kirk smile for real. “I will leave the firepot and the incense; I believe that you will benefit more from them than I would at present.”
“Are you sure?” Kirk didn’t want to protest; the incense was undeniably soothing, and it helped to mask the scent of him in the room. Still, he felt as though he should at least try. “You only have a limited supply, I wouldn’t want to use it all.”
“There will be ample opportunity to buy more at the colony,” Spock assured him. “I would prefer that you make use of what I have now.”
Kirk scolded his mind for trying to read something more into Spock’s words and nodded. “All right. Thanks.”
He had to take several minutes after Spock left to calm himself again. He hadn’t wanted his friend to go, had wanted him to stay for the rest of the day and throughout the night. The feeling was unsettling, to say the least. He enjoyed spending time with Spock, of course, but he had always been a man who liked his own space. This urge to be constantly in Spock’s company was new, and it made him distinctly uncomfortable.
Rather than taking the time to examine the feeling, Kirk seated himself in his chair and initiated a call to Starfleet Command. It went through almost immediately; Pike must have been sitting at his desk waiting for him.
“Good evening, Admiral. It is evening there now, isn’t it?”
“Sun just set,” Pike confirmed. “I’ve got a great view from my office.”
Kirk gave the cocky smirk that Pike always claimed irritated the hell out of him. “I’ve got a better one.”
“You do at that,” Pike said thoughtfully. Then, suddenly, “What the hell is going on there?”
He faltered. “The meeting, you mean? It went well, I think, or as well as could be expected. Everyone’s a little freaked out, but that’s only to be-”
“Kirk, playing dumb doesn’t suit you. You don’t really think I had you place a subspace call to brief me on a meeting I defined the damned parameters for, so let’s cut through the crap. There’s something else going on there, something you’re not telling me, and I want to know what it is.”
Kirk let his face go blank. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Bullshit, you don’t,” Pike shot back. He leaned forward, towards the monitor. “I’ve known you a long time, Jim. I was your advisor for three years at the Academy and kicking your ass at poker for two of them. You may be wearing a Vulcan’s skin, but your tells are as plain as ever. You’re holding something back, and I want to know what it is.”
“Is this part of an official inquest, Admiral?”
Pike made a frustrated noise and sat back again. “I don’t have the faintest idea how I’m even going to begin the paperwork for this one; my job will be hard enough as it is without trying to figure out how to file a gut feeling. This is just me asking. But don’t think for one second I won’t turn this official, bureaucracy be damned, if you don’t give me a straight answer here. I was going through my notes on your last transmission, and I can’t help but notice that an explanation for why the Noctaens switched the two of you is conspicuous in its absence. Let’s start there.”
Kirk sighed. “It was a gift,” he said at last. “A sort of, ‘thanks for all your help, please let us in your Federation’ thing. They said that Spock’s life was going to be endangered. I don’t know how they could know that, but based on what I’ve seen of them I didn’t have any reason to doubt them. And even if I had, I wasn’t willing to take the chance of turning them down when they said they could help me do something about it. The life of my First Officer was at stake; they were offering to help me save it.”
“And you leapt without thinking about what the consequences might be,” Pike guessed. Kirk’s smile barely tilted up the corners of his mouth.
“Someone told me once that Starfleet could use more of that sort of thing.”
“That person sounds like a real idiot.” The Admiral sighed and fixed Kirk with a measuring stare. “It’s not even close to everything, but I suppose it’ll do for now. I will be getting a full report from you when this business is concluded, Captain, and I do mean full. Don’t even think about trying to weasel your way out of it.”
“Starship captains don’t weasel, sir.”
“No, but genius-level adrenaline junkies have been known to try,” Pike said dryly. “A full report, Kirk. I’d get to working on it now.”
“I’d love to, sir, but I have to get back to my meditation.”
A disbelieving look and another frustrated noise. Then the Admiral shook his head on a reluctant laugh. “Meditation. Hell. Pike out.”
Kirk was still grinning to himself when he knelt to relight the firepot and the smell of incense filled the air again.
Part 5