Star Trek Big Bang: Bang a Gong (1/3)
I decided to be nice and break up the fic to post on LJ, too.
Title: Bang a Gong
Artist: ashleyj28
Mixer: jouissant
Betas: rhaegal and lazulisong
Character/Pairing(s): Ensemble; Kirk/Spock (background McCoy/Uhura)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 22,700
Warnings: None, except for: this is what happens when I make a conscious effort to write comedy.
Author's Notes: AKA When Jim Met Spock, or the pon farr romcom. The only TOS thing I took as canon for this fic was Amok Time; the rest is all lies about Vulcan reproductive and marriage rites. As well as shenanigans.
Summary: The chronicles of the Sad Bastards Club (Enterprise Chapter).
Link to Art: Here
Link to Mix: Here
"New orders coming in from Starfleet, Captain," said Uhura over the busy murmur of the bridge.
Jim spun around in his chair to face her. "What are they, Lieutenant?"
"We're to divert course to Starbase 12 to pick up supplies needed for the Vulcan colony."
Their third milk run in the first six months of the mission. "All right then," said Jim. "Guess the exploration of the Omicron Tauri system will have to wait. Chekov, how long will the diversion take?"
Chekov thought for a second, because why just use the console in front of him to calculate it when he could show off his brain instead? "Assuming the briefest possible stop at the starbase and then one, perhaps two days at the Vulcan colony, it will be two weeks before we are back on course for Omicron Tauri."
"Thirteen days and four hours, Ensign," said Spock without looking up from his station.
Jim rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. "Set our course, Chekov."
"Aye, Captain."
Jim settled into his chair and sighed to himself. At least if it was the Vulcan colony, he could convince himself that being Starfleet's errand boy was worth his time.
***
They'd made good time to the starbase and the loading of supplies onto the ship was proceeding efficiently under Jim and Spock's supervision. Well, Spock's supervision. Jim was just hanging around, annoying Spock and checking things out. He was avoiding both his yeoman, who was hunting him down to bury him in paperwork, and Bones, who had taken advantage of the starbase stop to requisition some medical supplies and was on a holy tear getting things organized. He'd almost made the quartermaster cry an hour ago, which Jim had been forced to deal with.
"So, Spock," said Jim, nodding at Nurse Chapel as she stormed past them, "are you looking forward to visiting home for a bit?"
Spock was looking down at his PADD. "I do not live on the Vulcan colony, as you are aware, Captain."
Jim winced; maybe he'd been bugging Spock too much already. "Okay, but your dad lives there, right? Home's where your family is, or at least family tends to think so. Maybe some old friends are still around? You get to see them."
Spock was silent for a moment. "Indeed. I will most likely arrange a visit with my father, if time permits."
"We'll make time," Jim said. "We haven't been able to give the crew liberty on a safe planet in months so it's not like anyone will object to an extra day there, if it comes to that."
Spock finally looked at him; his face was a mask as usual. "It would be prudent to continue to Omicron Tauri promptly upon delivery of the supplies."
"It's one day, Spock. Omicron Tauri is two weeks away at Warp 7. We're not creating anywhere near the kind of delay that Starfleet already has. Visit your dad."
"You are the captain," said Spock, sounding as though he wished otherwise.
"Damn straight I am," said Jim, and walked off to go pull Bones away from whoever he was terrifying now. Although from Chapel's expression earlier, it was possible he'd be rescuing Bones from her instead.
***
"There it is, ladies and gentlemen," Jim said when the planet loomed on the main viewscreen. They were in geosynchronous orbit; ocean stood out vividly blue around the edges of a huge landmass, brown desert brushed with hints of red. A single, bright green trickle of plant life wound its way through the northwest part of the landmass. Jim thought it looked like a mountain range. The full effect was breathtaking, like every new planet when viewed from orbit. Another impossible cluster of life in a universe that was mostly empty.
"May I present to you...." Jim faltered. "Vulcan II? New Vulcan?" He looked at Spock, ignoring Uhura's scoff from behind him.
"While I believe the Federation refers to it both by its astronomical designation, Chi Draconis IV, and as 'New Vulcan'," said Spock, sounding disinterested although he was staring at the viewscreen just like the rest of them, "the Vulcan name for it is T'Hamlan."
"What a beautiful name," said Uhura.
"What's it mean?" Jim asked.
Spock tore his gaze from the viewscreen to look at Jim. "Hamlan is the Vulcan concept of paradise. The planet's name suggests that it is derived from that place."
Jim raised his eyebrow. "That's a pretty romantic idea for Vulcans."
"Perhaps," said Spock, raising his eyebrow right back.
Jim sat up. "Well, now that we've all learned something, let's get this show on the road."
"I've already made contact with the port authority, Captain," Uhura piped up. "We're clear to beam down."
Jim got to his feet. "Spock, Sulu, and Uhura, with me. Uhura, call Dr. McCoy and Chief Zaidi to the transporter room for beaming down with the landing party."
"I think Chief Zaidi's still angry with the doctor, Captain," Lt. Breen cut in.
Jim sighed. "Fine. Leave Dr. McCoy aboard. We can't have the quartermaster breaking down again. Let's go," he said, walking to the turbolift.
***
Jim's first impression of New Vulcan upon beaming down was heat. "Jesus," he gasped, almost stumbling as the temperature change assaulted him.
Spock, by contrast, straightened a little more. "We are a desert-dwelling species, Captain."
"Was Vulcan this hot?"
"You were there."
"I was in freefall," Jim pointed out. "The temperature didn't really register."
"No," piped up Sulu, "I remember it being this hot."
"In freefall," said Jim skeptically.
"It was a long way down. I had a surprising amount of time to think."
Jim shook his head and was about to open his mouth again when a middle-aged looking Vulcan approached them, with two assistants standing just behind him. "We welcome you," he said, spreading his fingers in that Vulcan greeting, "to the settlement of Palik'Kahr. I am Sevek."
Spock returned the greeting smoothly and said something in Vulcan, which the greeter repeated with a nod.
"Thanks, Sevek," said Jim somewhat awkwardly, "it's good to be here."
"Captain Kirk, perhaps you would like a tour of the colony as the supplies are unloaded."
"Sure," Jim said with a shrug. "I think my quartermaster's got things under control." He looked at Zaidi. "Just, you know, comm me if you need to."
"Aye, Captain," said Zaidi. "Can I get started? This heat is ridiculous."
"We have several personnel prepared to assist you," said Sevek.
"Great. I'll call my team to get started with the beaming," said Zaidi, flipping open his comm.
"Spock," said Sevek, "if you are at liberty, Sarek has asked for you to see him."
Spock blinked. "I should oversee the unloading of supplies," he said.
"Chief Zaidi's fine, Spock," said Jim. "Just go. You can join the tour later, if you want."
Spock gave Jim an inscrutable look. "Very well," he said finally. One of Sevek's assistants led him away to find Sarek's house.
"He looked annoyed," said Uhura as they watched him go.
"You can tell?" said Jim.
Uhura narrowed her eyes at him, the look that said, 'you're an idiot, and if it weren't incredibly insubordinate I would use words to tell you so'.
"Shall we begin the tour?" said Sevek. He left his other assistant with Zaidi as Jim, Sulu and Uhura followed him away from the transporter loading area.
***
Spock didn't join up with the tour at any point during the afternoon, and when the rest of the landing party was invited to dinner with the colony officials (including Ambassador Spock, Jim noted with a grin), neither Spock nor his dad joined the festivities.
"I wonder where he is," said Jim over dessert--some kind of mouth-wateringly sweet fruit.
"He's spending time with his last remaining family member, Captain," said Uhura in an undertone. "Most people would choose that over you."
"Hey," Sulu said, but Jim cut him off, because she did have a point, and even though they had a transcendent bond formed under great threat of death, Jim really didn't need Sulu to defend his honour.
"You're right," he said instead, scooping up another spoonful of fruit to eat. "I hope they're enjoying their visit."
Uhura looked him up and down silently for a second before she went back to eating, too.
When they beamed back up to the ship at nightfall colony-time, still without Spock, Jim offhandedly queried the computer. Spock was in his quarters.
Jim hesitated for only a second before setting off for the officers' deck.
Faced with Spock's door, though, he found himself indecisive again. He walked in on McCoy in his quarters all the time (it was just the relationship they had; he had to retaliate somehow for all the surprise hyposprays) but even after six months of working together pretty smoothly, Jim didn't feel anywhere near the same level of comfort with Spock. Teasing him on the bridge was one thing, but Spock's quarters were his private space. Then again, Jim couldn't deny, at least to himself, that he was a hopeless busybody when it came to people he liked, and concern was flaring in the back of his mind. His finger moved to the buzzer almost on its own.
There was no response for a long enough stretch that Jim nearly turned and escaped to his own cabin, but then Spock called, "Enter," and the door opened.
Jim took a step inside and then hesitated in the doorway. Spock was sitting cross-legged on a mat in the middle of the room. The air smelled of incense.
Just as it occurred to Jim that this was the first time he'd ever been inside Spock's quarters, Spock rose gracefully to his feet. "Do you require something of me, Captain?"
"Uh," said Jim, taken aback. "I--" He looked around, trying to recover. "I hope I'm not interrupting something."
"I was meditating, but it is not problematic to be interrupted, as I have lab paperwork to complete. What do you require?" Spock was extinguishing the incense in its little pot on the floor and rolling up his mat.
Jim took another step inside, finally allowing the door to shut behind him. "I just... how was your visit with your dad?"
"It was adequate." Most of Spock's attention seemed to be on his meditation things.
"I was surprised we didn't see you at all. There was a dinner with the colony officials."
"I was aware. I did not wish to attend. My father remained with me."
Now that Jim was searching for it, he could see the subtleties of Spock's body language; the line of his shoulders was tense, where usually it was only rigid in a disciplined kind of way. And he was still fiddling with his incense pot. Jim's eyes narrowed as he put two and two together. "Something happened today."
"You will have to be more specific." Spock put the pot on a shelf and moved to his desk. Jim followed him, taking the chair on the other side.
"You know exactly what I mean. Something happened with your dad today."
"It is not your concern." At least Spock had abandoned the denial tactic quickly.
Jim studied Spock for a minute, thinking. Spock stared back levelly, his face the picture of calm. "Do you want to stay one more day?" Jim asked.
"As I told you at the starbase, it would be best that we return promptly to the exploratory mission we were tasked to complete."
Spock's answer seemed a little too quick. Jim cocked his head, trying to read between the lines.
"I have had sufficient time to interact with my father," Spock added. "Therefore it would be difficult to justify remaining. Also, the temperature in Palik'Kahr is much higher than ideal for a rest period for human crew."
"Uh huh," said Jim. "You're sure you don't want to stay? He's your only dad, you know." He felt a little mean to press the issue but Spock's stonewalling brought out the worst in him, apparently.
"Of course he is my only father," said Spock. "That statement is illogical."
Jim crossed his arms. "You can keep deflecting, or you can just tell me what happened. I'm more patient than you may have been led to believe."
"I told you that it is not your concern."
"I'm not trying to be nosy. Whatever you say stays in this room," said Jim. "But the longer I sit here, the more upset you look to me."
Spock looked down, picking up a stylus and putting it down again, aligning it at a precise right angle to the edge of the desk. "That is a result of your continued presence in my quarters, without invitation."
"Okay," said Jim, taking the cue to back off. He stood up. "Just, humans usually like to talk about problems with someone. Helps diminish their hold on us. And I kind of think it's not just a technique that works for humans."
Spock didn't say another word as Jim left his quarters. Out in the hallway, Jim took a deep breath and sighed. "That went well," he muttered. He took a detour to the bridge to order their departure before going back to his own quarters for bed.
***
Two nights later, Jim sat at his desk going through his message inbox, which was ridiculously overflowing. The door chime going off was a welcome distraction from deleting Starfleet newsletters. "Enter!" he called. It was probably Bones; he had this cute idea that exercising proper courtesy when he came to Jim's quarters might convince Jim to start doing the same.
It was Spock. "Are you occupied, Captain?" he asked.
Jim blinked but recovered quickly. "Nope, not doing a thing," he said, exiting his message application without looking at the terminal. "What's up?"
"As that question appears to hold no sensible meaning, I assume it is a greeting." Spock took the chair across the desk.
"It means, 'what's going on?'," Jim clarified, leaning back in his chair and grinning.
"I see. You recall our conversation two nights ago?"
What a question. "Yes."
"As a Vulcan, I hesitate to admit that the human convention you described intrigued me somewhat. However, it did, and I have been considering it ever since then."
"Well," said Jim blandly, "I know we're ridiculously illogical and all that, but you know what they say. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day."
Spock stared for a moment. "Indeed." He looked confused. "If you have finished attempting to annoy me with idioms, I have a request to make."
Jim mimed zipping his lips and gestured for Spock to go ahead.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I have spent the last two days exercising Vulcan practices of emotional control, including a great deal of meditation, but my 'problem', as you put it, persists. I do not know what other method to attempt, so I am willing to try speaking about it. If it does not diminish the negative emotions threatening my equilibrium, then it probably will not harm me further."
"That's the spirit," Jim said. "Lay it on me."
He bit back a grin when Spock stared at him for another second. Then Spock took a deep breath.
"My father asked to see me because of a request from my betrothed."
Jim's brain tripped over itself. "Sorry?"
"She had petitioned the High Council to sever our bond and my presence on the planet necessitated action on the issue. I was engaged in that process for the entirety of the visit."
"Wait," said Jim, holding up both hands. "Back up. Betrothed?"
"That is the closest Standard word which describes our relationship. Vulcans place a high value upon marital bonds for many reasons, and we are all therefore promised to another at a young age."
"Wow," said Jim. "I thought you were dating Uhura all this time."
Spock inclined his head. "That is a common rumour with a logical premise for those uneducated in Vulcan culture," said Spock, his tone implying that most people fit that description, "but untrue."
"But you two-- with the-- on the transporter pad--"
"The lieutenant and I are indeed close friends, and have been for nearly three years. She is a very tactile person, despite her respect for Vulcan cultural norms.... It was an unusual circumstance, compounded by shock and grief," Spock finished kind of lamely.
Jim's head hurt. "You never--"
"I am her superior officer, Captain. I was once her instructor. When my betrothal was also taken into account, it was, beyond question, an inexcusable transgression for there to be a romantic relationship between myself and Lt. Uhura."
"Then why did you let the rumours continue?" Jim felt a desperate need to sort this out in his head.
"It has been my experience that denial of a rumour typically does not diminish its presence. It seemed wisest to ignore it, since the situation between us never developed beyond that incident."
"Okay," said Jim, rubbing his temples, "so you were never with Uhura but you were always secretly engaged to a Vulcan girl. And she... survived?" He didn't know how else to ask it.
"T'Pring was on a VSA research vessel in the Vega system during the Battle of Vulcan," Spock confirmed, his voice unwavering and emotionless as it always was when the word 'Vulcan' came out of his mouth. "Are you now in possession of all the relevant facts?"
"God, I hope so," said Jim fervently. Then he thought back to what Spock had said before his brain had twisted itself into knots. "She wanted to sever your bond? Is that... is that like divorce?"
Spock's face stayed a mask. "As we had not yet solidified our bond of betrothal into one of marriage, the issue of its severance was not as serious as the dissolution of a full marriage bond. But the High Council's approval is necessary before a severance can occur."
Jim leaned forward without thinking, his hands reaching partway across the surface of his desk. "Did they...." He couldn't quite finish the question.
"They approved," said Spock.
"Why?"
"Her reasoning was eminently logical, as it always has been." Spock had started looking at the wall behind Jim's shoulder. "There are 12,837 Vulcans remaining out of an estimated six billion. Repopulation is on everyone's mind. However, as a half-Vulcan, half-human created through genetic manipulation, I am sterile."
"So you got dumped by your fiancée during your first visit to your home colony," said Jim, "because you can't have children."
"I do not believe," Spock said, and now his voice was fainter, "that it was her only motivation to do so. But that is the official reason accepted by the High Council for the severance of our bond of betrothal, yes."
"Jesus."
"Sharing this with you has not diminished my emotions," said Spock.
"Well, no," said Jim. "I think it takes quite a bit more than that, in your circumstances. I had no idea it would be this bad."
Spock said nothing.
"She didn't like you, did she?"
Spock shook his head.
"Yeah, I can't imagine a person doing that to someone they liked. For what it's worth, though, what's her name? T'Pring? T'Pring is a bitch with no taste whatsoever. I hope she has a million logical babies with someone half as awesome as you and realizes she missed out." Jim offered Spock a smile. "You'll find someone."
"I will not be bonded to a Vulcan again," said Spock. "Many childhood bonds were severed when our planet died, but there are currently more adult males than females, and a sterile male rejected by his bondmate will not find another one in those circumstances."
Jim looked at Spock, took in the subtle details of defeat in his bearing: downcast eyes, hands fisted in his lap, shoulders sloping down when they were normally confidently squared. He opened his desk drawer. "I have something to show you," he said, digging through the drawer before he lost his courage.
Spock took the holo when he held it out, examining it in silence. "This is a young human child," he said. He looked between Jim and the holo. "There appears to be a family resemblance."
Jim smiled wryly. "That's David. He was two when that was taken. It's a couple years old already, but it's the only picture I have of him. I don't think Carol even wanted me to have that one, but she was drunk when she sent it." He shrugged.
"This is your son," said Spock, making the connection. "I was unaware that you had a child."
Jim bit his lip. "I don't tell people about him; hell, I've never actually set eyes on him in the first place. Carol didn't think I should be a part of his life. Considering I was fresh off of a little stint in jail when she got pregnant, I guess I can understand where she was coming from." Jim cleared his throat. "Anyway. Even Bones doesn't know about him, so I'd appreciate it if you'd keep it to yourself." He took the holo back from Spock and studied it for a moment, his eyes tracing over his kid's blond hair and blue eyes and chubby cheeks before he set it gently back in the drawer.
"Jim," Spock started, using his first name for a change, "why have you shared something so private with me?"
Jim really wasn't sure himself; he shrugged. "I guess...." He looked around the room as he searched for the words he wanted. "I guess it's just that I know what it's like to feel rejected by someone you were close to," he said finally.
"I see," said Spock. He stood up. "Perhaps the sharing of my problem has aided me, after all."
"Good," said Jim.
He watched with his hand resting on his desk drawer as Spock left his quarters.
***
Omicron Tauri's third planet scanned as a Class L, mostly barren and dry with oases of vegetation and no other lifeforms to speak of. Jim let Spock and the biology team have an orgy of atmospheric tests and orbital scans of the surface conditions for a whole day before he started getting antsy.
"The air's breathable, right?" he asked Spock, turning in his chair to face the science station.
"It is 15% oxygen, 40% argon, 35% nitrogen and 10% assorted other gases, none of which are particularly poisonous in the concentrations in which they are present," Spock answered without turning around. "It is possible to breathe unaided for short periods of time."
"Surface temperature?"
"In the desert regions, it ranges from a low of approximately 260 Kelvin during hours of darkness, to 315 Kelvin during sunlight hours. The oases appear to have much less variation between day and night; the average high temperature in the regions we are observing seems to be approximately 300 Kelvin."
"Great," said Jim, bouncing to his feet. "Let's go."
Spock finally turned around. "Go where, Captain?"
"Planetside! Grab a team and meet me in the transporter room."
"It is unwise for both the captain and the first officer to leave the ship at the same time while on a mission."
"And yet, it's my prerogative to decide who goes on away teams," countered Jim as he sauntered to the turbolift. "There's no life except plants, anyway; we'll be fine."
The turbolift doors shut on any other protests Spock might have been making. Jim hummed a little tune as he descended to the transporter deck.
"This is not wise, Captain," said Spock again ten minutes later, as he entered the transporter room with three botanists in tow.
"Your concerns are noted, Mr. Spock," Jim grinned, hopping up on the pad.
"You will require this for an extended period in the thin atmosphere," said Spock, handing him a portable breather. "Please use it."
"Wouldn't want Bones to have another excuse to bitch," Jim agreed, taking the breather and dropping it in his pants pocket. "Energize," he instructed the transporter tech when everyone was in place.
The botanists scattered like kids in a candy store as soon as they materialized inside one of the pockets of vegetation on the surface. Jim smiled proudly when Spock arched an eyebrow at him. "Go on," he said. "Go play with the other geeks. I know you want to; you can thank me later."
Spock stared at him for a full ten seconds before hauling out his tricorder and moving to a nearby tree. Jim took a deep breath of the thin air, leaving his breather in his pocket, and picked a direction to wander off in. The whole expedition went really smoothly.
For about fifteen minutes.
"Did you just hear something crack?" Jim said suddenly.
Spock looked up from a fern he was fondling. "I believe the wind is disturbing the trees."
"Okay." Jim nodded, relaxing, and then there was a scream.
"That was Lt. Tal," said Spock as Jim drew his phaser.
They took off, crashing through the brush. The other two scientists caught up with them, phasers drawn and faces white with fear.
Lt. Tal was facedown in a pile of dead leaves; the back of her shirt was red with blood. Jim dove for her, leaves flying around him as he turned her over; he was faintly aware of Spock hissing at him to stop and then ordering the other two officers to cover him.
"Some small projectile hit her in the back; I don't know if it's still in there. She's still breathing," Jim said, grabbing his comm to hail the ship. "Kirk to Enterprise." But there was nothing but static, on six different channels. Jim looked up.
"Something's interfering with the comm signals," he said.
"The trees appear to contain unusually high levels of iron deposits," said Spock, his gaze firmly on the foliage behind Jim and Tal. "That may be the source of the interference."
"We'll have to move her into the open, then," said Jim. "I don't think we have much time."
"Wait," piped up Lt. Jones from behind Spock, "what about the thing that shot her? It might still be in the trees."
Jim looked down at Tal. She was unconscious, her breathing rapid and shallow. He'd talked to her over lunch in the officers' mess a week ago; she was working on her dissertation, about some herb native to Tellar that might cure ALS, and she was looking forward to the promotion she'd get after her defense. The projectile could have hit a lung, could have hit a lot of sensitive things, but she was still alive and might stay that way. Minutes counted.
"Getting her to Sickbay is our first priority," he said, already moving to pick her up carefully. "Stay alert and let's hope we see her attacker before it sees us. Let's move."
He scooped her up in his arms and had nearly made it to the nearest big tree, with Spock right on his six, when he heard a little whiff of air and something punched him in the shoulder.
"Ow?" he said, twisting so as not to crush Tal when he toppled into the tree trunk.
"Captain!" called Spock, appearing beside him and pulling him lower to the ground. The other two were covering the trees behind Jim. Spock grabbed Jim and hauled him around to see the back of his shoulder.
"What the fuck?" said Jim muzzily. His shoulder was burning.
"You were shot," said Spock. "It appears to have passed through the tissue but you are bleeding profusely. Give me the lieutenant."
"No," said Jim, blinking against the pain, which was getting really terrible really fast. "I can--" But his left arm pretty much wouldn't move, so he wound up not resisting when Spock took Tal from him. Jim took a deep breath and then hauled himself back to his feet, hanging onto the tree with his right arm. "Shit," he said, looking over his shoulder. He couldn't see much, but his uniform was soaking with blood.
"Yes," said Spock. "Do you still have your phaser, Captain?"
Jim drew it from his holster and clumsily set it to a high stun with his uncooperative left hand. "Okay, I've got you," he said, holding it up in his right. "Did you see whatever shot me?"
"We could neither see nor hear anything."
"Fantastic." Jim peered ahead into the foliage, which only seemed to get thicker. "Jones and Simchuk," he called back at the scientists, "stay on Spock's six. I'll take his twelve. We want to try and get a glimpse of this thing, if we can."
It was slow going, bushwhacking with one good hand with a phaser in it, but Jim did his best to clear branches out of the way for Spock. The going was tough, and made Jim feel lightheaded; he called a stop to put on their breathers, although Tal's mouth was too slack to accommodate hers. After about ten minutes, Simchuk made an alarmed noise and then ripped out his breather to talk.
"I saw a tail!"
"A tail?"
"Yeah, a lizard tail! Just for a second, about fifteen feet back in the brush."
"How big are we talking here?" Jim asked. "Iguana? Gecko? Dinosaur?"
"The part I saw looked as big around as my arm."
Jim choked on his breather as he put it back in. He made 'hurry up' gestures at everyone and renewed his attack on the ferns in front of him. It was just his luck that a supposedly uninhabited planet would end up being some fucked-up version of Land of the Lost. He'd hardly made it two steps when there was a hissing noise from off to his right and then the broad leaf hanging down in front of him suddenly had a hole in the middle.
He carefully raised his left arm to yank out his breather. "We're being hunted," he said softly.
Spock stopped directly behind him and shifted Tal to remove his own breather. "By a reptile with a projectile weapon?"
"I'm pretty sure you can't even make this shit up," Jim whispered back. "Does the Prime Directive apply here?"
Spock paused. "The creature appears to be an intelligent hunter, but sentience is not assured."
"Good," said Jim, as he adjusted the setting on his phaser again.
Spock eyed him. "Should we kill it, Captain?"
"Should it kill us instead, Commander?"
Instead of answering, Spock nodded forward, into the trees. "We must keep going in this direction."
Just as desert sunlight started to show through the foliage and Jim had begun to think they'd get out alive (dizzy with relief, or blood loss), their hunter made its move, cutting off their exit. Jim staggered to a halt, raising his phaser. It was a ten-foot-long quadrupedal reptile, crouching in front of them with its head at the height of Jim's chest; it hissed loudly and took a step forward.
Jim took a step back, nearly running into Spock. "Jesus," he said.
"I cannot see the means by which it fires projectiles at such velocity," said Spock.
Simchuk fired his phaser at it; the lizard hissed again and reared up to spit. Simchuk screamed and dropped his phaser, clutching at his upper arm. Blood leaked through his fingers.
"You had to fucking ask, didn't you, Spock?" Jim muttered.
Spock was blinking at the lizard. "It uses some biological process to create projectiles and then uses its throat muscles to fire them at its prey." He glanced up at the trees. "The high iron deposits in the area may be related."
"It spits bullets," Jim snapped. He switched his phaser to 'kill'.
"Indeed," said Spock, his tone a little arch at the oversimplification, but this wasn't the time. Instead, he set down Tal and drew his own phaser.
Jim shot the thing, aiming for its head. It hissed again, but didn't die. Dark, sludgy blood trickled from the wound he'd made.
"Fuck," he said as the thing reared up and opened its mouth. Before it could spit a bullet at Jim's face though, Spock shot it right inside the mouth. What was left of it afterward fell over in a puff of decaying leaves.
Jim stared at it for a minute. "Nice shot," he said finally.
"Thank you, Captain." Spock scooped up Tal again and surged forward, making for the sunlight. "I suggest we hurry; there is no reason to believe that was the only reptile present."
Jones grabbed Simchuk and they all hauled ass out into the desert, squinting as they burst from the tree cover into the harsh sun. Jones whipped out his comm. "Landing party to Enterprise. Requesting beam-out. Medical assistance required."
"How is she?" Jim demanded, reaching over to Tal to look for a pulse.
"Her heart rate is approximately half of human normal," said Spock, "and her respiration is shallow and intermittent. The blood loss has been quite severe. But she is still alive."
Jim sighed loudly as Scotty began to beam them up.
Bones' pissy look was already in place when the transporter room clarified around Jim, and it intensified when he saw all the blood. "Chapel, bring the stretcher over," he snapped. "You two walking wounded idiots, Sickbay. Let's go."
As soon as Tal was stabilized, Jim let himself relax and turn his attention to pissing off Bones from his biobed.
"It's just a flesh wound," he joked over the hum of the dermal regenerator. "You should see the other guy."
Bones shut the regenerator off and brought a hypospray out of nowhere, stabbing Jim's neck with precision accuracy.
"Shit!" Jim yelled, flinching. "Is there a lot of call for ninja reflexes in the medical community, Bones?"
"No, it's one of many bonus skills I bring to the table. Asshole."
Spock crossed the room from where Simchuk was being attended to, his arms folded over his chest. "How is your shoulder, Captain?"
Jim rolled it experimentally. "A little tight. I'll be fine."
"Relatively speaking," Bones hissed before stalking away.
"He prefers my blood on the inside of my body," Jim observed, watching him go.
"It is a positive trait for starship captains," said Spock. "I would like to reiterate that it is against policy for captains to join away teams, for reasons illustrated today."
Jim stared at him. "No. Look. If we hadn't both been there, the whole landing party could have died. Three injuries and no deaths instead? Awesome. Relatively speaking."
"We do have security teams for such purposes."
Jim waved it off. "What good am I to my crew if I'm too afraid to risk my life alongside them?" He paused. "Also, fuck. You and me? We're badasses."
"Pardon me?"
"Did you even see what kind of team we made down there? I mean yes, we were badasses on the Narada, too, but this just establishes that it wasn't a fluke." He gestured back and forth between them. "Bad. Asses."
"I do not wish to continue this discussion, as you may mistake further participation for encouragement."
"Sure," said Jim absently. "Oh, hey, did we figure out what was wrong with our scanners that kept them from picking up the gunslinging lizard, possibly plural?"
"Mr. Scott and Mr. Sulu are investigating, but my preliminary theory is that in addition to interfering with the comms, the trees also disguised the presence of lifeforms within the oasis we beamed into."
"So they're like leafy Faraday cages of disguised doom."
Spock looked away. "Essentially, yes."
"I want the sensors fixed."
Spock straightened a little more. "If they can be fixed, I will fix them, Captain."
Jim was still woozy from blood loss, so he stretched out on his biobed for a catnap before he had to go write up his mission report. "Thanks, Spock."
"Yes, Captain."
***
Something in the air definitely changed after that mission with the Wild West dinosaur (possibly plural). It was sneaky, though. Basically, one day two months later, Alpha shift ended and Jim and Spock walked off the bridge into the turbolift without bothering to pause their argument about whether getting to second base with the Orion Secretary of Defense could be considered good diplomatic relations. Just as Jim was punching the button for the officers' deck and changing the topic to dinner, deep inside his brain he had some kind of epiphany, or maybe a stroke.
"Jim?" Spock asked. Jim had shut up abruptly in the middle of a sentence about pesto sauce.
He looked at Spock in a daze. "Are we friends?"
Spock stared for a minute. "That may be an appropriate descriptor."
The turbolift doors opened but Jim ignored them. "When did that happen?"
Spock walked past him into the corridor; Jim followed dumbly. "I believe that it was gradual. Coordination of our schedules led to increased time in one another's presence and a great number of shared meals."
"Huh," said Jim.
"Do you wish to play chess tonight?" Spock asked as he led the way to the officers' mess.
Another thing, Jim abruptly realized, that had happened while he wasn't paying attention. They played chess--what, two, three times a week, now? Insidious. He rubbed at his face. "Sounds good."
"Very well," said Spock, and he walked over to the replicators.
***
Once Jim had been let in on the secret that he and Spock were--friends? Buddies? Bros? ...Once he noticed that they were spending time together socially and outside of work scenarios, he realized it was a surprisingly easy fit. They ate at least one meal a day together, usually arguing about ship's business in a mostly non-hostile kind of way. They played chess, which was the highlight of Jim's life because he won, like, all the time and Spock was going crazy trying to figure out how he did it. They worked out and Spock kicked Jim's ass all over the gym in front of an audience under the guise of 'helping him improve his close combat skills'. They went on missions when Jim could get away with joining the away team and dragging Spock with him, and sometimes things went smoothly and sometimes they were shot at, and sometimes Jim maybe fooled around with high-level military advisors and then Spock made him comm Pike when they got back to the ship. Because Spock was a killjoy.
"Where's your pointy-eared hip accessory?" Bones asked one night when Jim dropped into his quarters for a nightcap.
"What?" Jim asked, dropping into the chair opposite Bones' desk.
Bones rolled his eyes. "Spock. You two are always braiding each other's hair and gossiping about boys these days."
"That's not true," Jim insisted, grabbing the drink Bones had just poured him. "My hair's too short to braid." He took a sip, smirking at Bones over the rim of his glass, before he put it down and said, "Jealous? Have I been neglecting your needs, dear?"
"I don't know what to do with all the peace and quiet I've had lately," Bones groused, slumping in his chair and flipping Jim off in a good-natured way.
"I mean, God forbid I get along with my first officer," Jim bitched back, slumping in his own chair.
Bones raised both hands. "Did I hit a nerve, Jimmy?"
"It all kinda took me by surprise," Jim mumbled into his glass.
"Since the planet with the projectile-vomiting lizards?"
Jim thought. "Since T'Hamlan."
"What?"
"New Vulcan," Jim ground out.
"Oh. Why? He threw a Vulcan hissy fit while we were there, didn't he?" Bones kicked his feet up on his desk as he watched Jim.
Jim rolled the words around in his mouth, wondering how much he could actually tell Bones. "He had a good reason," he settled on.
"Whatever you say, Jim. So you have your own special club now, is that it?"
Jim snorted. "Yes. The Sad Bastards Club, Enterprise Chapter." He raised his glass mockingly. "You want in?"
"I'm probably already in the Earth Chapter," Bones said thoughtfully.
"Update your membership. Perks include free access to members-only pity parties."
"Well, how can I say no to an offer like that?" said Bones.
***
Once a week, there was a senior staff meeting at 0700, before the start of Alpha shift. For the first time in the history of that meeting, Jim was ten minutes early (Spock waking him up on time by practically leaning on the buzzer to his quarters might have had a tiny bit to do with it) and since Sulu, at the very least, normally stumbled into the conference room no earlier than 0705 and almost everyone else seemed to be in a similar state of mind this morning, Jim was sitting, bored, at the conference table. Bones was on his left, contemplating a cup of coffee in front of him, and Spock was on his right, going through his PADD. Uhura sat across the table in front of Bones, scratching at a fingernail.
Jim smirked to himself and discreetly made an O of his left forefinger and thumb and laid it on the top of his thigh. Then he waited.
Bones blinked owlishly at the sudden, slight movement and turned to give Jim's leg a confused glare. Jim took three seconds to relish the wide-eyed look of dawning horror before he punched Bones in the arm.
"Son of a bitch!" Bones snapped.
Jim laughed; they used to play that game all the time at the Academy, especially during lunch, late midterm cramming sessions and boring ethics classes (using the pinching variation and with loudness penalties). In their third year, Bones had introduced what he called a 'new variation', where Jim's punishment for looking at the finger-circle was a hypospray of vitamin boosters. Jim had stopped playing shortly after that.
But now he was wiping tears from the corners of his eyes while Bones swore at him, Uhura shook her head at them both and Spock raised his eyebrow at the whole tableau.
"Doctor McCoy, although I would not wish to deprecate his capacity for irritating actions, does not appear to have done anything to elicit physical abuse," Spock ventured.
"They're being boys, Spock," said Uhura.
"It's a game," Jim said brightly overtop of her.
"A game involving violence?"
"That's the best kind!" said Jim. "Look, this is how you play it. I just do this with my fingers," he demonstrated, "and then discreetly display it somewhere and wait for you to look at it. If you do, I get to punch you as hard as I want."
"How does this game continue without devolving into fistfights?" Spock asked, looking curious in spite of probably knowing better.
"Because you're not allowed to punch me back."
"I am not?"
"No punchbacks," said Jim sagely. "It's the rule."
Bones leaned around him to see Spock. "You retaliate by doing the same thing to him and making him look," he clarified.
"This game is illogical," Spock declared.
"It was invented by boys," Uhura hissed.
"It's a fine human tradition!" Kirk protested. "You love those! Look, here's another one," he said, and pointed at Spock's chest, bringing his finger in close.
Spock looked down at Jim's finger and Jim flicked him in the chin.
"No returns," said Jim.
Spock glared. Then the rest of the senior staff staggered in as a group, so Jim hastily got the meeting started. Bones kept sniggering through the first fifteen minutes, and Uhura rolled her eyes a lot.
By the time the meeting ended, Jim was dreaming of crawling back into bed, and his nice, warm blankets were the chief thing on his mind as he walked with Bones and Spock toward the turbolift. Spock was going to the biology labs for the morning, and as the turbolift neared Deck 3 he turned to Jim.
"What?" Jim asked as Spock stared at him expectantly. Then he looked down.
Spock flicked him in the chin.
"Retaliation is not permitted," said Spock, and walked out of the turbolift as Bones collapsed against the back of it, wheezing with laughter.
Jim stared after him in shock. "You're supposed to say, 'no returns'!" he called as the doors slid shut again.
Bones was crying, now, sitting on his ass on the floor of the turbolift. Jim kicked him in the thigh.
"Can it, dickwad," he muttered.
Bones just fell over, still laughing.
Part 2
Title: Bang a Gong
Artist: ashleyj28
Mixer: jouissant
Betas: rhaegal and lazulisong
Character/Pairing(s): Ensemble; Kirk/Spock (background McCoy/Uhura)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 22,700
Warnings: None, except for: this is what happens when I make a conscious effort to write comedy.
Author's Notes: AKA When Jim Met Spock, or the pon farr romcom. The only TOS thing I took as canon for this fic was Amok Time; the rest is all lies about Vulcan reproductive and marriage rites. As well as shenanigans.
Summary: The chronicles of the Sad Bastards Club (Enterprise Chapter).
Link to Art: Here
Link to Mix: Here
"New orders coming in from Starfleet, Captain," said Uhura over the busy murmur of the bridge.
Jim spun around in his chair to face her. "What are they, Lieutenant?"
"We're to divert course to Starbase 12 to pick up supplies needed for the Vulcan colony."
Their third milk run in the first six months of the mission. "All right then," said Jim. "Guess the exploration of the Omicron Tauri system will have to wait. Chekov, how long will the diversion take?"
Chekov thought for a second, because why just use the console in front of him to calculate it when he could show off his brain instead? "Assuming the briefest possible stop at the starbase and then one, perhaps two days at the Vulcan colony, it will be two weeks before we are back on course for Omicron Tauri."
"Thirteen days and four hours, Ensign," said Spock without looking up from his station.
Jim rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. "Set our course, Chekov."
"Aye, Captain."
Jim settled into his chair and sighed to himself. At least if it was the Vulcan colony, he could convince himself that being Starfleet's errand boy was worth his time.
***
They'd made good time to the starbase and the loading of supplies onto the ship was proceeding efficiently under Jim and Spock's supervision. Well, Spock's supervision. Jim was just hanging around, annoying Spock and checking things out. He was avoiding both his yeoman, who was hunting him down to bury him in paperwork, and Bones, who had taken advantage of the starbase stop to requisition some medical supplies and was on a holy tear getting things organized. He'd almost made the quartermaster cry an hour ago, which Jim had been forced to deal with.
"So, Spock," said Jim, nodding at Nurse Chapel as she stormed past them, "are you looking forward to visiting home for a bit?"
Spock was looking down at his PADD. "I do not live on the Vulcan colony, as you are aware, Captain."
Jim winced; maybe he'd been bugging Spock too much already. "Okay, but your dad lives there, right? Home's where your family is, or at least family tends to think so. Maybe some old friends are still around? You get to see them."
Spock was silent for a moment. "Indeed. I will most likely arrange a visit with my father, if time permits."
"We'll make time," Jim said. "We haven't been able to give the crew liberty on a safe planet in months so it's not like anyone will object to an extra day there, if it comes to that."
Spock finally looked at him; his face was a mask as usual. "It would be prudent to continue to Omicron Tauri promptly upon delivery of the supplies."
"It's one day, Spock. Omicron Tauri is two weeks away at Warp 7. We're not creating anywhere near the kind of delay that Starfleet already has. Visit your dad."
"You are the captain," said Spock, sounding as though he wished otherwise.
"Damn straight I am," said Jim, and walked off to go pull Bones away from whoever he was terrifying now. Although from Chapel's expression earlier, it was possible he'd be rescuing Bones from her instead.
***
"There it is, ladies and gentlemen," Jim said when the planet loomed on the main viewscreen. They were in geosynchronous orbit; ocean stood out vividly blue around the edges of a huge landmass, brown desert brushed with hints of red. A single, bright green trickle of plant life wound its way through the northwest part of the landmass. Jim thought it looked like a mountain range. The full effect was breathtaking, like every new planet when viewed from orbit. Another impossible cluster of life in a universe that was mostly empty.
"May I present to you...." Jim faltered. "Vulcan II? New Vulcan?" He looked at Spock, ignoring Uhura's scoff from behind him.
"While I believe the Federation refers to it both by its astronomical designation, Chi Draconis IV, and as 'New Vulcan'," said Spock, sounding disinterested although he was staring at the viewscreen just like the rest of them, "the Vulcan name for it is T'Hamlan."
"What a beautiful name," said Uhura.
"What's it mean?" Jim asked.
Spock tore his gaze from the viewscreen to look at Jim. "Hamlan is the Vulcan concept of paradise. The planet's name suggests that it is derived from that place."
Jim raised his eyebrow. "That's a pretty romantic idea for Vulcans."
"Perhaps," said Spock, raising his eyebrow right back.
Jim sat up. "Well, now that we've all learned something, let's get this show on the road."
"I've already made contact with the port authority, Captain," Uhura piped up. "We're clear to beam down."
Jim got to his feet. "Spock, Sulu, and Uhura, with me. Uhura, call Dr. McCoy and Chief Zaidi to the transporter room for beaming down with the landing party."
"I think Chief Zaidi's still angry with the doctor, Captain," Lt. Breen cut in.
Jim sighed. "Fine. Leave Dr. McCoy aboard. We can't have the quartermaster breaking down again. Let's go," he said, walking to the turbolift.
***
Jim's first impression of New Vulcan upon beaming down was heat. "Jesus," he gasped, almost stumbling as the temperature change assaulted him.
Spock, by contrast, straightened a little more. "We are a desert-dwelling species, Captain."
"Was Vulcan this hot?"
"You were there."
"I was in freefall," Jim pointed out. "The temperature didn't really register."
"No," piped up Sulu, "I remember it being this hot."
"In freefall," said Jim skeptically.
"It was a long way down. I had a surprising amount of time to think."
Jim shook his head and was about to open his mouth again when a middle-aged looking Vulcan approached them, with two assistants standing just behind him. "We welcome you," he said, spreading his fingers in that Vulcan greeting, "to the settlement of Palik'Kahr. I am Sevek."
Spock returned the greeting smoothly and said something in Vulcan, which the greeter repeated with a nod.
"Thanks, Sevek," said Jim somewhat awkwardly, "it's good to be here."
"Captain Kirk, perhaps you would like a tour of the colony as the supplies are unloaded."
"Sure," Jim said with a shrug. "I think my quartermaster's got things under control." He looked at Zaidi. "Just, you know, comm me if you need to."
"Aye, Captain," said Zaidi. "Can I get started? This heat is ridiculous."
"We have several personnel prepared to assist you," said Sevek.
"Great. I'll call my team to get started with the beaming," said Zaidi, flipping open his comm.
"Spock," said Sevek, "if you are at liberty, Sarek has asked for you to see him."
Spock blinked. "I should oversee the unloading of supplies," he said.
"Chief Zaidi's fine, Spock," said Jim. "Just go. You can join the tour later, if you want."
Spock gave Jim an inscrutable look. "Very well," he said finally. One of Sevek's assistants led him away to find Sarek's house.
"He looked annoyed," said Uhura as they watched him go.
"You can tell?" said Jim.
Uhura narrowed her eyes at him, the look that said, 'you're an idiot, and if it weren't incredibly insubordinate I would use words to tell you so'.
"Shall we begin the tour?" said Sevek. He left his other assistant with Zaidi as Jim, Sulu and Uhura followed him away from the transporter loading area.
***
Spock didn't join up with the tour at any point during the afternoon, and when the rest of the landing party was invited to dinner with the colony officials (including Ambassador Spock, Jim noted with a grin), neither Spock nor his dad joined the festivities.
"I wonder where he is," said Jim over dessert--some kind of mouth-wateringly sweet fruit.
"He's spending time with his last remaining family member, Captain," said Uhura in an undertone. "Most people would choose that over you."
"Hey," Sulu said, but Jim cut him off, because she did have a point, and even though they had a transcendent bond formed under great threat of death, Jim really didn't need Sulu to defend his honour.
"You're right," he said instead, scooping up another spoonful of fruit to eat. "I hope they're enjoying their visit."
Uhura looked him up and down silently for a second before she went back to eating, too.
When they beamed back up to the ship at nightfall colony-time, still without Spock, Jim offhandedly queried the computer. Spock was in his quarters.
Jim hesitated for only a second before setting off for the officers' deck.
Faced with Spock's door, though, he found himself indecisive again. He walked in on McCoy in his quarters all the time (it was just the relationship they had; he had to retaliate somehow for all the surprise hyposprays) but even after six months of working together pretty smoothly, Jim didn't feel anywhere near the same level of comfort with Spock. Teasing him on the bridge was one thing, but Spock's quarters were his private space. Then again, Jim couldn't deny, at least to himself, that he was a hopeless busybody when it came to people he liked, and concern was flaring in the back of his mind. His finger moved to the buzzer almost on its own.
There was no response for a long enough stretch that Jim nearly turned and escaped to his own cabin, but then Spock called, "Enter," and the door opened.
Jim took a step inside and then hesitated in the doorway. Spock was sitting cross-legged on a mat in the middle of the room. The air smelled of incense.
Just as it occurred to Jim that this was the first time he'd ever been inside Spock's quarters, Spock rose gracefully to his feet. "Do you require something of me, Captain?"
"Uh," said Jim, taken aback. "I--" He looked around, trying to recover. "I hope I'm not interrupting something."
"I was meditating, but it is not problematic to be interrupted, as I have lab paperwork to complete. What do you require?" Spock was extinguishing the incense in its little pot on the floor and rolling up his mat.
Jim took another step inside, finally allowing the door to shut behind him. "I just... how was your visit with your dad?"
"It was adequate." Most of Spock's attention seemed to be on his meditation things.
"I was surprised we didn't see you at all. There was a dinner with the colony officials."
"I was aware. I did not wish to attend. My father remained with me."
Now that Jim was searching for it, he could see the subtleties of Spock's body language; the line of his shoulders was tense, where usually it was only rigid in a disciplined kind of way. And he was still fiddling with his incense pot. Jim's eyes narrowed as he put two and two together. "Something happened today."
"You will have to be more specific." Spock put the pot on a shelf and moved to his desk. Jim followed him, taking the chair on the other side.
"You know exactly what I mean. Something happened with your dad today."
"It is not your concern." At least Spock had abandoned the denial tactic quickly.
Jim studied Spock for a minute, thinking. Spock stared back levelly, his face the picture of calm. "Do you want to stay one more day?" Jim asked.
"As I told you at the starbase, it would be best that we return promptly to the exploratory mission we were tasked to complete."
Spock's answer seemed a little too quick. Jim cocked his head, trying to read between the lines.
"I have had sufficient time to interact with my father," Spock added. "Therefore it would be difficult to justify remaining. Also, the temperature in Palik'Kahr is much higher than ideal for a rest period for human crew."
"Uh huh," said Jim. "You're sure you don't want to stay? He's your only dad, you know." He felt a little mean to press the issue but Spock's stonewalling brought out the worst in him, apparently.
"Of course he is my only father," said Spock. "That statement is illogical."
Jim crossed his arms. "You can keep deflecting, or you can just tell me what happened. I'm more patient than you may have been led to believe."
"I told you that it is not your concern."
"I'm not trying to be nosy. Whatever you say stays in this room," said Jim. "But the longer I sit here, the more upset you look to me."
Spock looked down, picking up a stylus and putting it down again, aligning it at a precise right angle to the edge of the desk. "That is a result of your continued presence in my quarters, without invitation."
"Okay," said Jim, taking the cue to back off. He stood up. "Just, humans usually like to talk about problems with someone. Helps diminish their hold on us. And I kind of think it's not just a technique that works for humans."
Spock didn't say another word as Jim left his quarters. Out in the hallway, Jim took a deep breath and sighed. "That went well," he muttered. He took a detour to the bridge to order their departure before going back to his own quarters for bed.
***
Two nights later, Jim sat at his desk going through his message inbox, which was ridiculously overflowing. The door chime going off was a welcome distraction from deleting Starfleet newsletters. "Enter!" he called. It was probably Bones; he had this cute idea that exercising proper courtesy when he came to Jim's quarters might convince Jim to start doing the same.
It was Spock. "Are you occupied, Captain?" he asked.
Jim blinked but recovered quickly. "Nope, not doing a thing," he said, exiting his message application without looking at the terminal. "What's up?"
"As that question appears to hold no sensible meaning, I assume it is a greeting." Spock took the chair across the desk.
"It means, 'what's going on?'," Jim clarified, leaning back in his chair and grinning.
"I see. You recall our conversation two nights ago?"
What a question. "Yes."
"As a Vulcan, I hesitate to admit that the human convention you described intrigued me somewhat. However, it did, and I have been considering it ever since then."
"Well," said Jim blandly, "I know we're ridiculously illogical and all that, but you know what they say. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day."
Spock stared for a moment. "Indeed." He looked confused. "If you have finished attempting to annoy me with idioms, I have a request to make."
Jim mimed zipping his lips and gestured for Spock to go ahead.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I have spent the last two days exercising Vulcan practices of emotional control, including a great deal of meditation, but my 'problem', as you put it, persists. I do not know what other method to attempt, so I am willing to try speaking about it. If it does not diminish the negative emotions threatening my equilibrium, then it probably will not harm me further."
"That's the spirit," Jim said. "Lay it on me."
He bit back a grin when Spock stared at him for another second. Then Spock took a deep breath.
"My father asked to see me because of a request from my betrothed."
Jim's brain tripped over itself. "Sorry?"
"She had petitioned the High Council to sever our bond and my presence on the planet necessitated action on the issue. I was engaged in that process for the entirety of the visit."
"Wait," said Jim, holding up both hands. "Back up. Betrothed?"
"That is the closest Standard word which describes our relationship. Vulcans place a high value upon marital bonds for many reasons, and we are all therefore promised to another at a young age."
"Wow," said Jim. "I thought you were dating Uhura all this time."
Spock inclined his head. "That is a common rumour with a logical premise for those uneducated in Vulcan culture," said Spock, his tone implying that most people fit that description, "but untrue."
"But you two-- with the-- on the transporter pad--"
"The lieutenant and I are indeed close friends, and have been for nearly three years. She is a very tactile person, despite her respect for Vulcan cultural norms.... It was an unusual circumstance, compounded by shock and grief," Spock finished kind of lamely.
Jim's head hurt. "You never--"
"I am her superior officer, Captain. I was once her instructor. When my betrothal was also taken into account, it was, beyond question, an inexcusable transgression for there to be a romantic relationship between myself and Lt. Uhura."
"Then why did you let the rumours continue?" Jim felt a desperate need to sort this out in his head.
"It has been my experience that denial of a rumour typically does not diminish its presence. It seemed wisest to ignore it, since the situation between us never developed beyond that incident."
"Okay," said Jim, rubbing his temples, "so you were never with Uhura but you were always secretly engaged to a Vulcan girl. And she... survived?" He didn't know how else to ask it.
"T'Pring was on a VSA research vessel in the Vega system during the Battle of Vulcan," Spock confirmed, his voice unwavering and emotionless as it always was when the word 'Vulcan' came out of his mouth. "Are you now in possession of all the relevant facts?"
"God, I hope so," said Jim fervently. Then he thought back to what Spock had said before his brain had twisted itself into knots. "She wanted to sever your bond? Is that... is that like divorce?"
Spock's face stayed a mask. "As we had not yet solidified our bond of betrothal into one of marriage, the issue of its severance was not as serious as the dissolution of a full marriage bond. But the High Council's approval is necessary before a severance can occur."
Jim leaned forward without thinking, his hands reaching partway across the surface of his desk. "Did they...." He couldn't quite finish the question.
"They approved," said Spock.
"Why?"
"Her reasoning was eminently logical, as it always has been." Spock had started looking at the wall behind Jim's shoulder. "There are 12,837 Vulcans remaining out of an estimated six billion. Repopulation is on everyone's mind. However, as a half-Vulcan, half-human created through genetic manipulation, I am sterile."
"So you got dumped by your fiancée during your first visit to your home colony," said Jim, "because you can't have children."
"I do not believe," Spock said, and now his voice was fainter, "that it was her only motivation to do so. But that is the official reason accepted by the High Council for the severance of our bond of betrothal, yes."
"Jesus."
"Sharing this with you has not diminished my emotions," said Spock.
"Well, no," said Jim. "I think it takes quite a bit more than that, in your circumstances. I had no idea it would be this bad."
Spock said nothing.
"She didn't like you, did she?"
Spock shook his head.
"Yeah, I can't imagine a person doing that to someone they liked. For what it's worth, though, what's her name? T'Pring? T'Pring is a bitch with no taste whatsoever. I hope she has a million logical babies with someone half as awesome as you and realizes she missed out." Jim offered Spock a smile. "You'll find someone."
"I will not be bonded to a Vulcan again," said Spock. "Many childhood bonds were severed when our planet died, but there are currently more adult males than females, and a sterile male rejected by his bondmate will not find another one in those circumstances."
Jim looked at Spock, took in the subtle details of defeat in his bearing: downcast eyes, hands fisted in his lap, shoulders sloping down when they were normally confidently squared. He opened his desk drawer. "I have something to show you," he said, digging through the drawer before he lost his courage.
Spock took the holo when he held it out, examining it in silence. "This is a young human child," he said. He looked between Jim and the holo. "There appears to be a family resemblance."
Jim smiled wryly. "That's David. He was two when that was taken. It's a couple years old already, but it's the only picture I have of him. I don't think Carol even wanted me to have that one, but she was drunk when she sent it." He shrugged.
"This is your son," said Spock, making the connection. "I was unaware that you had a child."
Jim bit his lip. "I don't tell people about him; hell, I've never actually set eyes on him in the first place. Carol didn't think I should be a part of his life. Considering I was fresh off of a little stint in jail when she got pregnant, I guess I can understand where she was coming from." Jim cleared his throat. "Anyway. Even Bones doesn't know about him, so I'd appreciate it if you'd keep it to yourself." He took the holo back from Spock and studied it for a moment, his eyes tracing over his kid's blond hair and blue eyes and chubby cheeks before he set it gently back in the drawer.
"Jim," Spock started, using his first name for a change, "why have you shared something so private with me?"
Jim really wasn't sure himself; he shrugged. "I guess...." He looked around the room as he searched for the words he wanted. "I guess it's just that I know what it's like to feel rejected by someone you were close to," he said finally.
"I see," said Spock. He stood up. "Perhaps the sharing of my problem has aided me, after all."
"Good," said Jim.
He watched with his hand resting on his desk drawer as Spock left his quarters.
***
Omicron Tauri's third planet scanned as a Class L, mostly barren and dry with oases of vegetation and no other lifeforms to speak of. Jim let Spock and the biology team have an orgy of atmospheric tests and orbital scans of the surface conditions for a whole day before he started getting antsy.
"The air's breathable, right?" he asked Spock, turning in his chair to face the science station.
"It is 15% oxygen, 40% argon, 35% nitrogen and 10% assorted other gases, none of which are particularly poisonous in the concentrations in which they are present," Spock answered without turning around. "It is possible to breathe unaided for short periods of time."
"Surface temperature?"
"In the desert regions, it ranges from a low of approximately 260 Kelvin during hours of darkness, to 315 Kelvin during sunlight hours. The oases appear to have much less variation between day and night; the average high temperature in the regions we are observing seems to be approximately 300 Kelvin."
"Great," said Jim, bouncing to his feet. "Let's go."
Spock finally turned around. "Go where, Captain?"
"Planetside! Grab a team and meet me in the transporter room."
"It is unwise for both the captain and the first officer to leave the ship at the same time while on a mission."
"And yet, it's my prerogative to decide who goes on away teams," countered Jim as he sauntered to the turbolift. "There's no life except plants, anyway; we'll be fine."
The turbolift doors shut on any other protests Spock might have been making. Jim hummed a little tune as he descended to the transporter deck.
"This is not wise, Captain," said Spock again ten minutes later, as he entered the transporter room with three botanists in tow.
"Your concerns are noted, Mr. Spock," Jim grinned, hopping up on the pad.
"You will require this for an extended period in the thin atmosphere," said Spock, handing him a portable breather. "Please use it."
"Wouldn't want Bones to have another excuse to bitch," Jim agreed, taking the breather and dropping it in his pants pocket. "Energize," he instructed the transporter tech when everyone was in place.
The botanists scattered like kids in a candy store as soon as they materialized inside one of the pockets of vegetation on the surface. Jim smiled proudly when Spock arched an eyebrow at him. "Go on," he said. "Go play with the other geeks. I know you want to; you can thank me later."
Spock stared at him for a full ten seconds before hauling out his tricorder and moving to a nearby tree. Jim took a deep breath of the thin air, leaving his breather in his pocket, and picked a direction to wander off in. The whole expedition went really smoothly.
For about fifteen minutes.
"Did you just hear something crack?" Jim said suddenly.
Spock looked up from a fern he was fondling. "I believe the wind is disturbing the trees."
"Okay." Jim nodded, relaxing, and then there was a scream.
"That was Lt. Tal," said Spock as Jim drew his phaser.
They took off, crashing through the brush. The other two scientists caught up with them, phasers drawn and faces white with fear.
Lt. Tal was facedown in a pile of dead leaves; the back of her shirt was red with blood. Jim dove for her, leaves flying around him as he turned her over; he was faintly aware of Spock hissing at him to stop and then ordering the other two officers to cover him.
"Some small projectile hit her in the back; I don't know if it's still in there. She's still breathing," Jim said, grabbing his comm to hail the ship. "Kirk to Enterprise." But there was nothing but static, on six different channels. Jim looked up.
"Something's interfering with the comm signals," he said.
"The trees appear to contain unusually high levels of iron deposits," said Spock, his gaze firmly on the foliage behind Jim and Tal. "That may be the source of the interference."
"We'll have to move her into the open, then," said Jim. "I don't think we have much time."
"Wait," piped up Lt. Jones from behind Spock, "what about the thing that shot her? It might still be in the trees."
Jim looked down at Tal. She was unconscious, her breathing rapid and shallow. He'd talked to her over lunch in the officers' mess a week ago; she was working on her dissertation, about some herb native to Tellar that might cure ALS, and she was looking forward to the promotion she'd get after her defense. The projectile could have hit a lung, could have hit a lot of sensitive things, but she was still alive and might stay that way. Minutes counted.
"Getting her to Sickbay is our first priority," he said, already moving to pick her up carefully. "Stay alert and let's hope we see her attacker before it sees us. Let's move."
He scooped her up in his arms and had nearly made it to the nearest big tree, with Spock right on his six, when he heard a little whiff of air and something punched him in the shoulder.
"Ow?" he said, twisting so as not to crush Tal when he toppled into the tree trunk.
"Captain!" called Spock, appearing beside him and pulling him lower to the ground. The other two were covering the trees behind Jim. Spock grabbed Jim and hauled him around to see the back of his shoulder.
"What the fuck?" said Jim muzzily. His shoulder was burning.
"You were shot," said Spock. "It appears to have passed through the tissue but you are bleeding profusely. Give me the lieutenant."
"No," said Jim, blinking against the pain, which was getting really terrible really fast. "I can--" But his left arm pretty much wouldn't move, so he wound up not resisting when Spock took Tal from him. Jim took a deep breath and then hauled himself back to his feet, hanging onto the tree with his right arm. "Shit," he said, looking over his shoulder. He couldn't see much, but his uniform was soaking with blood.
"Yes," said Spock. "Do you still have your phaser, Captain?"
Jim drew it from his holster and clumsily set it to a high stun with his uncooperative left hand. "Okay, I've got you," he said, holding it up in his right. "Did you see whatever shot me?"
"We could neither see nor hear anything."
"Fantastic." Jim peered ahead into the foliage, which only seemed to get thicker. "Jones and Simchuk," he called back at the scientists, "stay on Spock's six. I'll take his twelve. We want to try and get a glimpse of this thing, if we can."
It was slow going, bushwhacking with one good hand with a phaser in it, but Jim did his best to clear branches out of the way for Spock. The going was tough, and made Jim feel lightheaded; he called a stop to put on their breathers, although Tal's mouth was too slack to accommodate hers. After about ten minutes, Simchuk made an alarmed noise and then ripped out his breather to talk.
"I saw a tail!"
"A tail?"
"Yeah, a lizard tail! Just for a second, about fifteen feet back in the brush."
"How big are we talking here?" Jim asked. "Iguana? Gecko? Dinosaur?"
"The part I saw looked as big around as my arm."
Jim choked on his breather as he put it back in. He made 'hurry up' gestures at everyone and renewed his attack on the ferns in front of him. It was just his luck that a supposedly uninhabited planet would end up being some fucked-up version of Land of the Lost. He'd hardly made it two steps when there was a hissing noise from off to his right and then the broad leaf hanging down in front of him suddenly had a hole in the middle.
He carefully raised his left arm to yank out his breather. "We're being hunted," he said softly.
Spock stopped directly behind him and shifted Tal to remove his own breather. "By a reptile with a projectile weapon?"
"I'm pretty sure you can't even make this shit up," Jim whispered back. "Does the Prime Directive apply here?"
Spock paused. "The creature appears to be an intelligent hunter, but sentience is not assured."
"Good," said Jim, as he adjusted the setting on his phaser again.
Spock eyed him. "Should we kill it, Captain?"
"Should it kill us instead, Commander?"
Instead of answering, Spock nodded forward, into the trees. "We must keep going in this direction."
Just as desert sunlight started to show through the foliage and Jim had begun to think they'd get out alive (dizzy with relief, or blood loss), their hunter made its move, cutting off their exit. Jim staggered to a halt, raising his phaser. It was a ten-foot-long quadrupedal reptile, crouching in front of them with its head at the height of Jim's chest; it hissed loudly and took a step forward.
Jim took a step back, nearly running into Spock. "Jesus," he said.
"I cannot see the means by which it fires projectiles at such velocity," said Spock.
Simchuk fired his phaser at it; the lizard hissed again and reared up to spit. Simchuk screamed and dropped his phaser, clutching at his upper arm. Blood leaked through his fingers.
"You had to fucking ask, didn't you, Spock?" Jim muttered.
Spock was blinking at the lizard. "It uses some biological process to create projectiles and then uses its throat muscles to fire them at its prey." He glanced up at the trees. "The high iron deposits in the area may be related."
"It spits bullets," Jim snapped. He switched his phaser to 'kill'.
"Indeed," said Spock, his tone a little arch at the oversimplification, but this wasn't the time. Instead, he set down Tal and drew his own phaser.
Jim shot the thing, aiming for its head. It hissed again, but didn't die. Dark, sludgy blood trickled from the wound he'd made.
"Fuck," he said as the thing reared up and opened its mouth. Before it could spit a bullet at Jim's face though, Spock shot it right inside the mouth. What was left of it afterward fell over in a puff of decaying leaves.
Jim stared at it for a minute. "Nice shot," he said finally.
"Thank you, Captain." Spock scooped up Tal again and surged forward, making for the sunlight. "I suggest we hurry; there is no reason to believe that was the only reptile present."
Jones grabbed Simchuk and they all hauled ass out into the desert, squinting as they burst from the tree cover into the harsh sun. Jones whipped out his comm. "Landing party to Enterprise. Requesting beam-out. Medical assistance required."
"How is she?" Jim demanded, reaching over to Tal to look for a pulse.
"Her heart rate is approximately half of human normal," said Spock, "and her respiration is shallow and intermittent. The blood loss has been quite severe. But she is still alive."
Jim sighed loudly as Scotty began to beam them up.
Bones' pissy look was already in place when the transporter room clarified around Jim, and it intensified when he saw all the blood. "Chapel, bring the stretcher over," he snapped. "You two walking wounded idiots, Sickbay. Let's go."
As soon as Tal was stabilized, Jim let himself relax and turn his attention to pissing off Bones from his biobed.
"It's just a flesh wound," he joked over the hum of the dermal regenerator. "You should see the other guy."
Bones shut the regenerator off and brought a hypospray out of nowhere, stabbing Jim's neck with precision accuracy.
"Shit!" Jim yelled, flinching. "Is there a lot of call for ninja reflexes in the medical community, Bones?"
"No, it's one of many bonus skills I bring to the table. Asshole."
Spock crossed the room from where Simchuk was being attended to, his arms folded over his chest. "How is your shoulder, Captain?"
Jim rolled it experimentally. "A little tight. I'll be fine."
"Relatively speaking," Bones hissed before stalking away.
"He prefers my blood on the inside of my body," Jim observed, watching him go.
"It is a positive trait for starship captains," said Spock. "I would like to reiterate that it is against policy for captains to join away teams, for reasons illustrated today."
Jim stared at him. "No. Look. If we hadn't both been there, the whole landing party could have died. Three injuries and no deaths instead? Awesome. Relatively speaking."
"We do have security teams for such purposes."
Jim waved it off. "What good am I to my crew if I'm too afraid to risk my life alongside them?" He paused. "Also, fuck. You and me? We're badasses."
"Pardon me?"
"Did you even see what kind of team we made down there? I mean yes, we were badasses on the Narada, too, but this just establishes that it wasn't a fluke." He gestured back and forth between them. "Bad. Asses."
"I do not wish to continue this discussion, as you may mistake further participation for encouragement."
"Sure," said Jim absently. "Oh, hey, did we figure out what was wrong with our scanners that kept them from picking up the gunslinging lizard, possibly plural?"
"Mr. Scott and Mr. Sulu are investigating, but my preliminary theory is that in addition to interfering with the comms, the trees also disguised the presence of lifeforms within the oasis we beamed into."
"So they're like leafy Faraday cages of disguised doom."
Spock looked away. "Essentially, yes."
"I want the sensors fixed."
Spock straightened a little more. "If they can be fixed, I will fix them, Captain."
Jim was still woozy from blood loss, so he stretched out on his biobed for a catnap before he had to go write up his mission report. "Thanks, Spock."
"Yes, Captain."
***
Something in the air definitely changed after that mission with the Wild West dinosaur (possibly plural). It was sneaky, though. Basically, one day two months later, Alpha shift ended and Jim and Spock walked off the bridge into the turbolift without bothering to pause their argument about whether getting to second base with the Orion Secretary of Defense could be considered good diplomatic relations. Just as Jim was punching the button for the officers' deck and changing the topic to dinner, deep inside his brain he had some kind of epiphany, or maybe a stroke.
"Jim?" Spock asked. Jim had shut up abruptly in the middle of a sentence about pesto sauce.
He looked at Spock in a daze. "Are we friends?"
Spock stared for a minute. "That may be an appropriate descriptor."
The turbolift doors opened but Jim ignored them. "When did that happen?"
Spock walked past him into the corridor; Jim followed dumbly. "I believe that it was gradual. Coordination of our schedules led to increased time in one another's presence and a great number of shared meals."
"Huh," said Jim.
"Do you wish to play chess tonight?" Spock asked as he led the way to the officers' mess.
Another thing, Jim abruptly realized, that had happened while he wasn't paying attention. They played chess--what, two, three times a week, now? Insidious. He rubbed at his face. "Sounds good."
"Very well," said Spock, and he walked over to the replicators.
***
Once Jim had been let in on the secret that he and Spock were--friends? Buddies? Bros? ...Once he noticed that they were spending time together socially and outside of work scenarios, he realized it was a surprisingly easy fit. They ate at least one meal a day together, usually arguing about ship's business in a mostly non-hostile kind of way. They played chess, which was the highlight of Jim's life because he won, like, all the time and Spock was going crazy trying to figure out how he did it. They worked out and Spock kicked Jim's ass all over the gym in front of an audience under the guise of 'helping him improve his close combat skills'. They went on missions when Jim could get away with joining the away team and dragging Spock with him, and sometimes things went smoothly and sometimes they were shot at, and sometimes Jim maybe fooled around with high-level military advisors and then Spock made him comm Pike when they got back to the ship. Because Spock was a killjoy.
"Where's your pointy-eared hip accessory?" Bones asked one night when Jim dropped into his quarters for a nightcap.
"What?" Jim asked, dropping into the chair opposite Bones' desk.
Bones rolled his eyes. "Spock. You two are always braiding each other's hair and gossiping about boys these days."
"That's not true," Jim insisted, grabbing the drink Bones had just poured him. "My hair's too short to braid." He took a sip, smirking at Bones over the rim of his glass, before he put it down and said, "Jealous? Have I been neglecting your needs, dear?"
"I don't know what to do with all the peace and quiet I've had lately," Bones groused, slumping in his chair and flipping Jim off in a good-natured way.
"I mean, God forbid I get along with my first officer," Jim bitched back, slumping in his own chair.
Bones raised both hands. "Did I hit a nerve, Jimmy?"
"It all kinda took me by surprise," Jim mumbled into his glass.
"Since the planet with the projectile-vomiting lizards?"
Jim thought. "Since T'Hamlan."
"What?"
"New Vulcan," Jim ground out.
"Oh. Why? He threw a Vulcan hissy fit while we were there, didn't he?" Bones kicked his feet up on his desk as he watched Jim.
Jim rolled the words around in his mouth, wondering how much he could actually tell Bones. "He had a good reason," he settled on.
"Whatever you say, Jim. So you have your own special club now, is that it?"
Jim snorted. "Yes. The Sad Bastards Club, Enterprise Chapter." He raised his glass mockingly. "You want in?"
"I'm probably already in the Earth Chapter," Bones said thoughtfully.
"Update your membership. Perks include free access to members-only pity parties."
"Well, how can I say no to an offer like that?" said Bones.
***
Once a week, there was a senior staff meeting at 0700, before the start of Alpha shift. For the first time in the history of that meeting, Jim was ten minutes early (Spock waking him up on time by practically leaning on the buzzer to his quarters might have had a tiny bit to do with it) and since Sulu, at the very least, normally stumbled into the conference room no earlier than 0705 and almost everyone else seemed to be in a similar state of mind this morning, Jim was sitting, bored, at the conference table. Bones was on his left, contemplating a cup of coffee in front of him, and Spock was on his right, going through his PADD. Uhura sat across the table in front of Bones, scratching at a fingernail.
Jim smirked to himself and discreetly made an O of his left forefinger and thumb and laid it on the top of his thigh. Then he waited.
Bones blinked owlishly at the sudden, slight movement and turned to give Jim's leg a confused glare. Jim took three seconds to relish the wide-eyed look of dawning horror before he punched Bones in the arm.
"Son of a bitch!" Bones snapped.
Jim laughed; they used to play that game all the time at the Academy, especially during lunch, late midterm cramming sessions and boring ethics classes (using the pinching variation and with loudness penalties). In their third year, Bones had introduced what he called a 'new variation', where Jim's punishment for looking at the finger-circle was a hypospray of vitamin boosters. Jim had stopped playing shortly after that.
But now he was wiping tears from the corners of his eyes while Bones swore at him, Uhura shook her head at them both and Spock raised his eyebrow at the whole tableau.
"Doctor McCoy, although I would not wish to deprecate his capacity for irritating actions, does not appear to have done anything to elicit physical abuse," Spock ventured.
"They're being boys, Spock," said Uhura.
"It's a game," Jim said brightly overtop of her.
"A game involving violence?"
"That's the best kind!" said Jim. "Look, this is how you play it. I just do this with my fingers," he demonstrated, "and then discreetly display it somewhere and wait for you to look at it. If you do, I get to punch you as hard as I want."
"How does this game continue without devolving into fistfights?" Spock asked, looking curious in spite of probably knowing better.
"Because you're not allowed to punch me back."
"I am not?"
"No punchbacks," said Jim sagely. "It's the rule."
Bones leaned around him to see Spock. "You retaliate by doing the same thing to him and making him look," he clarified.
"This game is illogical," Spock declared.
"It was invented by boys," Uhura hissed.
"It's a fine human tradition!" Kirk protested. "You love those! Look, here's another one," he said, and pointed at Spock's chest, bringing his finger in close.
Spock looked down at Jim's finger and Jim flicked him in the chin.
"No returns," said Jim.
Spock glared. Then the rest of the senior staff staggered in as a group, so Jim hastily got the meeting started. Bones kept sniggering through the first fifteen minutes, and Uhura rolled her eyes a lot.
By the time the meeting ended, Jim was dreaming of crawling back into bed, and his nice, warm blankets were the chief thing on his mind as he walked with Bones and Spock toward the turbolift. Spock was going to the biology labs for the morning, and as the turbolift neared Deck 3 he turned to Jim.
"What?" Jim asked as Spock stared at him expectantly. Then he looked down.
Spock flicked him in the chin.
"Retaliation is not permitted," said Spock, and walked out of the turbolift as Bones collapsed against the back of it, wheezing with laughter.
Jim stared after him in shock. "You're supposed to say, 'no returns'!" he called as the doors slid shut again.
Bones was crying, now, sitting on his ass on the floor of the turbolift. Jim kicked him in the thigh.
"Can it, dickwad," he muttered.
Bones just fell over, still laughing.
Part 2