Star Trek XI -- "Parturiency"
This story was written for Trinka and kamiyo, who won my first help_chile fanfic auction. They donated $15 to Caritas. The prompt was a fic in which a pregnant Spock is kidnapped and Jim rescues him, with bonus points for BAMF!Bones, Jim storming a laboratory, and Jim talking to Spock's belly.
Many thanks to L for helping me hammer out plot issues. This fic is unbetaed.
Spoilers for Star Trek OS episodes "The Cage" and "The Menagerie".
Warning: this fic contains mpreg. Don't say I didn't warn you, now.
Spock's pregnant with Jim's child, and the trouble was only just beginning.
Parturiency | NC-17 | 5808 words | complete
Captain’s Personal Log, Stardate 2262.32: There may be an observable change in the command team dynamic tomorrow. At the very least we’ll be able to turn down the lights on the bridge, since I’ll be beaming, and I don’t mean letting Scotty experiment with the transporter again.
Jim had never experienced a courtship this long, or this sexless. True, most of the time Jim fucked first and did dinner later, if at all. But this was different. It was Spock; it was important. Taking it slow felt right, and even though Jim had a galactic case of blueballs, he knew it would be worth it.
And now that Jim found himself half-naked in Spock’s bed, Spock’s lean, too-hot weight pressing him into the mattress, Jim knew he’d been right.
Jim was forcefully pulled into the present when Spock’s tongue stroked over his left nipple, rough and little prickly, like a cat’s. Jim made an embarrassing keening noise and ran his hands through Spock’s hair. “Spock, quit teasing, I’m dying here.”
“I find that to be exceedingly unlikely,” Spock said, and they could have been discussing something on the bridge, he sounded so impassive. “Unless you are referring to the ‘little death’, an ancient Terran euphemism for orgasm.”
“Spock, you can’t just say things like that,” Jim groaned. His hands scrabbled against Spock’s shoulders, and Spock let Jim pull him up into a deep kiss. “How can you be so unaffected?” he whispered against Spock’s lips. They were already bruised green from Jim’s kisses.
Spock pressed their hips together, and Jim felt an answering erection against his own. “I am hardly unaffected, Jim.”
“Heh, you said ‘hard’.”
Spock kissed him into stunned silence. “I do not appreciate your juvenile sense of humor at this time.” With his usual elegant economy of movement, Spock stripped them of their remaining clothes and stretched out against Jim’s side, the heat of him welcome even in the already warm room. “You are remarkably aesthetically pleasing.”
“Flatterer,” Jim said, but there was a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the heat of the room or Spock’s skin. He tried to pull Spock back on top but wound up rolling so he was rearing up over Spock, his hairy thighs around Jim’s hips. Spock gasped and tightened his grip. “Spock?” he asked, shifting his hips.
Spock made a choked sound. “Please, Jim,” he gasped.
Like Jim was going to say no. “Do you have lube?”
“Unnecessary,” Spock said, and Jim groaned. “Saliva will be sufficient.”
Knowing Spock had a thing for fingers, Jim pressed the tips of his own to Spock’s lips. Spock made a noise suspiciously like a groan and sucked them into his mouth. A few seconds later, the gentlest tug from Jim and Spock released them. Jim leaned forward to kiss him as he brought his fingertips down to press up behind Spock’s balls. Spock sighed, and Jim’s fingers slid in to the second knuckle. “Okay?”
“Affirmative,” Spock said, his voice becoming choked as Jim began to shift his fingers. He looked gorgeous: sweaty, hair mussed, a little breathless, a dark green hickey on his collarbone. “Do not tease me, Jim.”
Jim chuckled, low and filthy, and added a third finger. The slide was easy; Spock must have great muscle control. “Ready?” he asked, waiting until Spock was pushing back against him eagerly, which didn’t take long. Jim removed his finger and, without needing to look, lined himself up and pressed in.
Spock made a soft keening sound and gripped Jim’s shoulders. “Jim, if you do not move, I will make you.”
Jim smirked but complied, Spock bucking up into each thrust. They were setting a bruising rhythm, but it was clear Spock was enjoying himself and Jim was on the verge of exploding. He reached down and wrapped one hand around Spock’s erection, with its distinctive double ridges.
“Jim?” Spock asked, placing the fingertips of his right hand again Jim’s face. They’d talked about this; mind melds are for more than just interrogation or the transfer of information. Jim nodded, and then he was gone.
*
Captain’s Personal Log, Stardate 2262.118: Spock collapsed on the bridge today and was taken to sickbay. McCoy tells me it’s nothing life-threatening, so I can’t go down to see him until I get off my shift. Damn, sometimes I hate being captain.
Jim came skidding into sickbay something like two and a half minutes after the end of his shift; he’d have to reprimand himself later. But Spock was visible from the door, sitting up in biobed with a PADD in hand. He looked a little pale, but otherwise fine. Jim felt like he could breathe for the first time since he’d heard Spock hit the deck plating. “Hi,” he said, suddenly almost shy. “How’re you feeling?”
“I am well,” Spock said, but Jim could tell he was distracted. He didn’t remind Jim that he didn’t feel, for a start.
“Bones have any idea what happened?”
“Affirmative. I-” Spock stopped, as if unsure how to proceed.
“Oh, tell him, Spock,” Bones said, coming out of his office. His grin didn’t reassure Jim at all. “I can’t wait to see his face.”
Spock visibly steadied himself. “Jim, I appear to be pregnant.”
Jim must have looked appropriately gobsmacked, because Bones laughed. “Sit down before you fall down, Jim.”
Jim did as he was told, collapsing into a chair next do Spock’s biobed. “I…don’t even know where to start,” he said. “I mean, I thought you were male, Spock.”
“According to Starfleet, I am,” Spock said testily. “Even after the destruction of Vulcan, we tend to be a secretive species, particularly on the subject of our biology.” Bones grumbled irritably, and Jim couldn’t disagree; this would not be the first time Vulcan secrecy had bitten them in the asses. “Vulcans have three genders rather than two, but since this third gender is not required for procreation, as in species like the Vissians, and to better assimilate into a largely-bigendered universe, it is not common knowledge. Physiologically we are almost identical to the male of the species.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me at some point?” Jim didn’t mean to sound whiny, but he would have liked to know.
“I believed you already knew,” Spock said, and Jim blinked. “When we have engaged in intercourse, you have unerringly found my-”
“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Bones said. “I don’t need to know that part.”
Jim decided to be smug about his assumed prowess rather than embarrassed by the fact that he’d missed. “Usually people mention that pregnancy could be a possibility. Or they use some kind of contraceptive.”
“Until today, I was functioning under the assumption that I was infertile,” Spock said, and Jim wanted to hug him. “There were tests when I was a child.”
Jim gave in and laid his hand on Spock’s knee. Spock didn’t react, but somehow Jim knew Spock found it comforting. “How far along is he?” he asked Bones.
“Twelve weeks, one day, ten hours,” Spock said.
“Now, wait a minute,” Bones said. “How is it that you didn’t even know you were pregnant, but you can calculate conception down to the hour?”
“Captain Kirk and I have only engaged in that particular sex act one time in the-”
“Okay, okay,” Bones yelled. “You’re just full of information I don’t want to know.” Jim could have sworn Spock looked smug. “ The medical logs have some information about the Vulcan gestational cycle. How accurate is that, in your case?”
“I cannot be certain,” Spock said. “As I am a hybrid, and carrying a child with additional human DNA, I believe the Terran expression is ‘all bets are off’.”
“Great,” Bones grumbled. “Alright, since Jim looks like he’s going to explode, I’ll skedaddle and let you two talk for a bit. But don’t leave that bed, Spock, I’m still keeping an eye on you.”
Jim waited until they were alone in the sickbay before reaching to take Spock’s hand, surprised that Spock latched onto his fingers rather than avoiding them. “How are you, really?” he asked softly.
“I cannot tell you with any certainty at this time,” Spock said, which Jim took to mean that he was freaking. “This is a most unexpected turn of events.”
“Do you…do you want to terminate the pregnancy?” Jim asked. He felt his heart clench a little at that-something he’d have to investigate later, he’d never thought he’d wanted a family-but this was Spock’s life and career they were talking about.
“Logic dictates that I should,” Spock said. “The timing is inconvenient for numerous reasons, and I am not certain of my abilities to properly raise a child on my own.”
“I’m hardly going to abandon you, Spock, if that’s what you’re worrying about,” Jim cut in quickly. “I…I love you, I’ll back you up, whatever you do.” He felt what could only be described as a happy warmth in the back of his mind, and remembered that they were still holding hands. He wondered what of the tangle of his emotions Spock was picking up.
“I never doubted that,” Spock said, but Jim could tell he wasn’t being entirely honest.
“The mission’s almost over, we can take a sabbatical until the baby’s born, then work it out from there,” Jim said. “I’m sure Starfleet is dying to have you back teaching.”
“I wish to keep the child,” Spock said earnestly. It was the most emotion Jim had heard in his voice since the unhappy events that had brought them together in the first place. Spock must have picked up his surprise, because he said, “I have been having difficulty maintaining my usual control, likely because of the reserves my body has reallocated to the nurturing of the embryo. It is likely the increased effort I put into my shields kept me from sensing the other mind within me.”
“You can sense it now?”
“Only faintly,” Spock said. “May I show you?” Jim nodded, and Spock pressed warm fingertips to the side of Jim’s face. “My mind to your mind,” he said, and Jim was falling…
Warmth all around him, Spock’s mind, familiar and beloved. He let himself float on the wash of emotions like waves of an alien ocean until there was a sensation like a hand on his elbow and he was directed to focus.
Where Jim usually visualized Spock’s mind as science blue, this was green-gold, compact but strong, radiating contentment. The knowledge that Spock believed that simplicity of thought was normal for this state of development dropped into his mind, and Jim exuded happiness. He felt an answering ebb of complicated emotions wash over him and…
Spock placed his hand back in his lap and Jim smiled. “Never going to get used to that, am I?” He felt a sudden spark of amusement in the back of his mind that he knew wasn’t his own, but they weren’t touching anymore. “Spock, are you still in my head?”
Spock actually looked confused for a moment, and Jim felt what could only be described as Spock poking around in the back of his mind. “It appears our minds spontaneously formed a bond, likely on the basis of our decision to raise the child.”
“Oh God, did we just get married?”
“Vulcan law has a more complex system than Earth or the Federation,” Spock said, and Jim could feel…fear? “By Vulcan law, we are betrothed. I can remove the bond if you wish.”
“No,” Jim said quickly, “as long as it’s okay with you. I’d have liked to propose the old-fashioned way, but this works, too.” He smiled, and felt the fear ease.
“You guys done yet?” Bones asked, poking his head out of his office.
“Hey, Bones, we’re getting married,” Jim said, and he felt Spock’s exasperated amusement. He tried to project happiness back to him and was pleased with Spock’s surprised, happy response before Spock obviously raised his shields. They’d have to talk about all this later; Jim was a little overwhelmed now.
“Wonderful,” Bones said, but Jim could sense the real affection under the feigned annoyance. “I’m going to have a hell of a time updating your records.”
“I will contact the Vulcan Science Academy and see if I can supplement the information you have about the Vulcan gestation cycle,” Spock said, and Bones nodded. “I will also contact my father.” Now, that would be a fun conversation.
“Hey, Bones, think the baby will have my looks and Spock’s brains?” Jim said, smirking when his plan to annoy both of them worked beautifully.
“Our luck, it’ll be the other way ‘round,” Bones grumbled, and Jim pretended to be insulted. “I think you just weren’t eating enough for two. I know you tend to forget to eat entirely when you’re playing with one of your shiny experiments.”
“Vulcans require less food and sleep than humans,” Spock said, obviously put-out.
“Well, not this Vulcan,” Bones said. “Not while you’re feeding the little one, too. I’d ask Jim to help you remember, but we all know he’s worse than you.” Jim rolled his eyes. “How about this: you eat three meals a day, I won’t call you Mrs. Kirk.”
“That is inducement, Doctor.”
“You bet it is,” Bones said. He pulled a hypo and Jim winced in sympathy as Spock got a shot in the neck. “Prenatal vitamins. I’ll give you a hypo for them and you can self-administer. Now, both of you, out of my sickbay. And congratulations,” he added, more gently. “Lord knows what the universe is getting itself into.”
*
Captain’s Personal Log 2262.160: Crew seems to be taking it well, though I think Uhura’s secretly laughing at me. I’ve had people offer me babysitting services, which is just weird. The Admiralty, on the other hand, are not so accommodating.
“There’s nothing I can do about it, Jim,” Admiral Pike said, and Jim frowned. Pike didn’t usually use Jim’s first name in official transmissions. “The orders come from over my head. You know Komack’s never been a big fan of you two.”
Jim sighed. “Have you told Spock yet?”
“I was hoping you could pull him in here for this transmission,” Pike said. “Is he in his lab?”
“Bones keeps threatening him with bedrest,” Jim said, knowing his smile was fond but not bothering to hide it. He leaned over and pushed the call button. “Kirk to Mr. Spock, can you come to my ready room?”
“I will be there in 3.46 minutes, Captain.”
Jim grinned. He and Pike chatted until Spock arrived, trading ship and Academy gossip. “Spock, good, Admiral Pike wants to speak with you, too,” he said when the door slid open, revealing his visibly-pregnant bondmate. For whatever reason, the embryo was developing more quickly than a normal Vulcan or Human pregnancy; Bones was estimating they had less than three more months to go. Jim didn’t really want Spock giving birth on the ship, but it was looking more and more likely they wouldn’t have a choice.
“Admiral,” Spock acknowledged. He was standing so close to Jim’s chair that his hip was pressed against Jim’s arm. It was a protective gesture, and even though Jim knew Spock had been having trouble controlling his emotions now, it was still strange to see.
“I’m afraid I have news you may not like,” Pike said, and Jim could feel Spock’s concern in the back of his mind. It was still strange to be able to feel Spock that way, but it was also very helpful. “The Admiralty is reassigning you to the medical research station at Starbase 42.”
“I understand that Captain Kirk’s and my assignments after our current mission are still flexible, but I do not see the logic of my assignment to a medical research post,” Spock said. “Certainly there are personnel who are more qualified in that field.”
Pike sighed. “The new assignment is effective immediately,” he said. “And you’re not going to be a researcher, you’re going to be a research subject.” Test subject, Jim mentally translated, and he could feel Spock’s outrage, too.
“That is unacceptable,” Spock said, and even Jim was surprised by the emotion in his tone. “Dr. McCoy is perfectly qualified to provide my care, and we are recording all observations for the Vulcan Science Academy’s records. My reassignment at this time would be highly illogical, as there is no one to fill my position and a journey to Starbase 42, even at maximum warp, would take the Enterprise two weeks in the wrong vector in space.”
“Lieutenant Monroe is to be promoted to interim Science Officer, and Admiral Komack is sending a new First Officer to meet you at Starbase 42,” Pike said, looking contrite. “I’ve already tried to stall this every way I can think of, Spock. I’m sorry.”
“I am certain you have taken every possible action,” Spock said, and the warmth in his tone reminded Jim that Spock had been friends with Pike before he’d ever met either of them. “I believe, then, that my only course of action is to resign my commission and return to New Vulcan. If it is not possible to assign the Enterprise to convey me, I will hire civilian transport at our stop at Starbase 74.”
Jim’s heart clenched, but he knew Spock was right. He’d read the formal orders from Komack; there had been something sinister in the phrasing, though he couldn’t put his finger on anything specific. “I’ll let him do it,” he said, reaching out to take Spock’s hand. It reflected how bad things were that Spock let him. “And after this current tour I’ll follow him.”
“I’ll bring that ultimatum to the Admiralty,” Pike said. “And I want to go on record saying I’d have done the same thing. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have news. Be safe.”
“You’d really resign?” Jim asked once Pike had signed off and they were alone, turning to face Spock.
“Vulcans do not lie, Jim.” Jim made a face. “Without hesitation. You would not?”
Jim smiled, sending a wave of affection to Spock through their link. “I think I just did.”
*
Captain’s Personal Log 2262.172: Chris finally got back to us about Spock’s ultimatum, and it didn’t go well. The Admiralty is refusing to change Spock’s reassignment, and they won’t let the Enterprise detour to take him to New Vulcan.
“This is bullshit,” Jim said, pacing back and forth in Spock’s quarters. Spock said on the bed, packing his few belongings into a replicated suitcase. Since his formal resignation two days before, Spock had been wearing civilian clothes instead of his uniform. The Vulcan robes were attractive in a slightly alien way, but Jim missed seeing the being he loved in science blues.
“I do not see the relationship between current events and cattle excrement,” Spock said, but Jim thought he was teasing. “There had been a 74.32% probability of this outcome.”
“It’s still bullshit,” Jim grumbled, settling on the bed. Spock activated the fasteners on the suitcase and placed it on the floor. “You’re a sentient being. You have every right to turn them down and still keep your job.”
“My position with Starfleet is less important than my health, or the health of our child,” Spock said simply. He sat back against the pillows at the head of the bed and put his legs up onto the bed with a soft, pained sigh. Jim poked around in the back of his head and then pulled Spock’s feet into his lap, massaging ankles he hadn’t realized were swollen. “Thank you.”
“You could ask, you know,” Jim said, with a fond smile. “I think it’s part of my job as the…well, the other father. Massaging your feet and going to the replicators in the mess when you’re having odd food cravings at 0300 and that kind of thing.”
“I did not realize there were such rules to these things,” Spock said, and now Jim knew he was teasing. “I am forced to admit that I will miss you an unmeasureable amount when I am on New Vulcan.”
Jim felt the change in conversational tone like he could feel the ship change from warp to a full-stop. “Me, too,” he said, resting his hands on Spock’s calves. “We’re out here another month and a half and then I’ll join you on New Vulcan as soon as all the paperwork goes through. I’d go with you now,” he added regretfully, “but I can’t just leave the ship without either of its command officers.”
“If you could,” Spock said, “I would not want you to join me.”
Jim smiled at the implied compliment, but it quickly faded. “We’re going to be arriving at Starbase 74 in a matter of minutes,” he said. “We can’t stay more than a few hours while Scotty loads on those new injectors.”
“I have arranged transport with a Tellerite freighter to New Vulcan,” Spock said. “I will likely be out of communication during the journey, but I will contact you as soon as we arrive.”
“Good,” Jim said, gently laying his head on the curve of Spock’s belly. “And you in there, you protect your dad, okay?” He chuckled at Spock’s raised eyebrow. “Let me be illogical, alright?”
Whatever Spock might have said was interrupted by the comm system wheezing into life. “Captain Kirk?” Sulu’s voice said. “We’ve arrived at Starbase 74.”
Jim sighed and sat up. “Tell Uhura to begin docking protocols, and let Scotty know to be ready for the first shipment. I’ll be on the bridge in ten.” He scrubbed both hands through his hair. “I probably won’t be able to see you off,” he said regretfully.
“Do not worry overmuch, Jim,” Spock said, reaching out to caress his fingers in the familiar gesture. “As long as we are bonded, I will never truly be separate from you.”
“Really? It works over distances that long?”
“The bond will be faint, but present,” Spock said. “I am grateful for this.”
Jim leaned in to kiss Spock the human way. “Me, too.”
*
Captain’s Personal Log 2262.226: Mapping star systems is really starting to grate. I swear, the Admiralty is punishing me; how was this more important than taking Spock home? It’s been almost a month and still no word from him. I’d say I’m starting to worry, but I’ve been worrying since Spock beamed off the ship. If worrying it all it takes to be a good parent, I’m going to be awesome.
“You know, you’re cute when you’re pining,” Bones said, and Jim wanted to hit him but he knew he was right. “Still no word?”
“Not yet, and even at warp one they should have gotten there already.”
“Have you considered calling him yourself?” Bones suggested, swirling his brandy, and Jim felt like an idiot. “You really hadn’t?”
“Shut up,” Jim said. “Computer, open communiqué to home of Ambassador Sarek, New Vulcan.”
“Acknowledged.”
“Ambassador,” Jim said, when Sarek’s face appeared on his screen. He almost looked worried, but Jim had to be imagining things.
“Captain,” Sarek replied. “Have you news of my son?”
Shit, Jim thought, as well as a lot of angrier things in a number of languages. “I was going to ask you the same question. He’s not on New Vulcan?”
“I received a text-only communication 15.7 days ago reporting that he would be delayed, and have not heard from him since,” Sarek said. “It is most illogical that he has not contacted neither you nor I.”
“The last I heard, he was boarding the freighter at Starbase 74,” Jim said. “Do you have any information on the freighter?”
Sarek shook his head. “It is most strange. I believe it to be astronomically unlikely that Spock would disappear of his own will.”
Jim hadn’t even thought of it. He was already picturing Spock being kidnapped. “Is it possible Starfleet would take…drastic measures to get Spock to the lab at Starbase 42?”
“Most things are possible, but I would consider it to be improbable,” Sarek said. “I will make inquiries.”
“Let me know if you find anything,” Jim said. Sarek nodded and ended the transmission. “Well, what the hell do I do now?”
“You probably have Uhura shake someone at the base, see if they find that freighter,” Bones suggested.
Jim shook his head. “There’s another way,” he said. “The bond. Spock said it would be faint, but still there. Maybe he can tell me where he is.” Jim was pleased Bones didn’t roll his eyes. Jim closed his eyes and reached out.
Spock.
But there was nothing, and Jim opened his eyes in shock.
“What?” Bones asked. “Did you find him?”
“There’s nothing there,” Jim said, eyes wide. He felt…empty. “It’s like he’s gone.”
“Could it be because of distance?” Bones suggested.
“No, he said it would always be there, no matter how far apart we were,” Jim said. “And he’s not dead, I’d feel it. The bond is just…gone.”
“Could he have separated you?” Bones asked. “I know we’re assuming he didn’t go willingly.”
“I would have felt that, too,” Jim said. “We talked about the bond a lot. If he-or anyone else-cut the bond, it would have hurt. A lot.”
“So what happened?”
“I don’t know,” Jim said. “Maybe some telepathic species has him, is blocking the bond.”
“They’d have to be very powerful.”
Jim nodded. “Computer, list all known species that have telepathic abilities that are as powerful or more so than Vulcans.” The list was long enough to be unmanageable. Jim frowned, an idea tickling at the corner of his mind. “Cross-reference with any species to have logged interest in fertility of other species.”
“No results,” the computer said.
“Cross-reference original list with Spock’s old missions,” Bones suggested.
“That’s narrowed it to half a dozen,” Jim said. “And a couple of those are Enterprise missions. Computer, bring up mission report summaries for listed species.” He turned the screen so Bones could see. “Anything jump out at you?”
“This one’s got no summary,” Bones said, pointing. “And I think that’s just a planetary designation, not a species. Talos IV.”
Jim clicks open the report, but all it says is that the planet was visited by Pike’s ship, and now it’s off-limits to all Federation citizens. On pain of death. Great. “Somehow, this sounds like the right place,” he said, pressing the button to call the bridge. “Helm, set course for Talos IV. Communications, get me a secure connection to Admiral Pike. Let me know when you have him. We need to talk.”
*
Captain's Personal Log, 2262.238: Of course Spock visited a planet of fertility challenged aliens while he was serving with Chris Pike. Why is my life full of coincidences like this? We're warping there now-only hours away, thankfully-but there's more bad news: Bones says we're entering the window he and Spock calculated as most likely for Spock to give birth. Naturally.
“Exiting warp in the Talos system in three, two, one,” Sulu counted down, and the part of Jim's brain that wasn't slightly hysterical noticed that his helmsman really liked counting things.
“Take position in orbit over Talos IV,” Jim said. “Scan for any lifesigns. Hopefully they won’t realize we’re here and block us.”
“There’s a cluster of lifesigns on an island off the west coast of the northern continent,” Monroe said from the science station. Jim missed hearing Spock’s voice so much. “One might be Vulcan. I’m not sure, there’s some kind of interference.”
“That’s to be expected,” Jim said. He had Pike’s description of events, and it was scaring the crap out of him. “Bones, Giotto, are you and the away team ready?”
“Ready, Captain,” Giotto said. “Engineer Scott is ready to beam us down on your command.”
“Wait until I get there,” Jim said, standing and heading for the turbolift. “Sulu, you have the con.”
“Jim, shouldn’t you stay aboard?” Bones asked, but it was clear from his voice that he didn’t expect to succeed.
“Spock’s down there,” Jim said. “Like hell I’m staying up here.” He all but ran down the corridor to the transporter room and strapped on a phaser. “Beam us down, Scotty.” Jim pulled his phaser, and they disappeared.
The surface of the planet looked just like Pike had described it: rocky and ruined, with a doorway built into the side of a hill. It opened as they approached, revealing an obviously not pregnant Spock.
“Spock,” Jim said, rushing over to him and taking his hand. “What happened?”
“The Talosians have taken the child,” Spock said, and Jim could hear the sadness and anger in his voice. “They wished to experiment on this new form of life. The embryo did not survive.”
Jim could see Spock’s emotions in his face, but when he reached into the back of his mind, it was still suspiciously empty. He dropped Spock’s hand and stepped back. “You’re not Spock,” he said, raising his phaser.
“Jim,” Spock said, reaching out to him. “Please.”
“No,” Jim said, and he fired, hitting the image of Spock full in the chest. The landscape wavered and coalesced into the courtyard of a remarkably Terran castle. Jim heard gasps from the away team behind him, breathed a sigh of relief; they were still with him. “Come on,” he called, gesturing to the arch where the original doorway stood. “This way.”
They ran through the arch, and Jim could feel the sizzle of a light forcefield on his skin. They burst into a new courtyard, this one filled with tables of reclining, feasting figures, a trio of Orion dancers in the center. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Jim said, running past the dancers and through another archway, Bones right on his heels and the security detail a few steps behind. As Pike had suggested, Jim focused on his anger and the sumptuous garden around them began to waver. “Focus, Bones,” he called. “Be angry.”
It felt like a puzzle sliding into place in his mind, but suddenly Jim could feel Spock, angry and scared and in pain. He held onto that like a lifeline and found himself in what could only be a laboratory. Spock was laid out on a table, struggling feebly, surrounded by short, big-headed creatures in grey robes. “Get away from him,” Jim yelled, stunning the closest Talosian. The others tightened their circle around Spock, so Jim was hesitant to fire for fear of hitting him.
Three bursts of phaser fire from next to Jim hit a trio of Talosians twenty feet away in the centers of their chests. Jim looked to see Bones standing next to him, phaser still in position. “Don’t be surprised, Jimmy,” he said, his drawl thicker than ever. “You ain’t the only one with weapons training.”
It seemed like they were the only ones who could see the Talosians to fire, but he and Bones were able to take down the rest of the aliens. As soon as it was clear they rushed to Spock’s side-the security team finally aware and comming the ship-and Jim watched helplessly as Bones scanned him. Spock didn’t seem to be aware of them, and Jim was sure his face was greyer than was healthy. The round curve of his pregnant belly stood out starkly.
“He’s going to be fine, Jim,” Bones said. “He’s sedated, but it’s nothing that’ll hurt him or the baby. I think they were using their mind tricks on him.”
“Captain, the transporter room says we need to be aboveground before they can beam us up,” Giotto said.
Jim nodded sharply. He handed off his phaser and lifted Spock into his arms. Spock was heavier than he looked, and his long limbs and protruding stomach made him hard to carry, but Jim pushed forward. “Giotto, have you been able to generate a map for down here?”
“Done,” Giotto said. “This way.”
Jim couldn’t run, but they walked quickly through the complex, and soon they were out in the slightly grey air on the surface. Jim lowered Spock to the ground as carefully as he could. “Beam us up,” he said into his communicator, arms still around Spock’s twitching body. The last thing he saw before they beamed was the recognition and happiness in Spock’s opening eyes.
It took a few minutes for the gurney Bones called for to reach the transporter room, and Jim clutched Spock to his chest, face buried in Spock’s shoulder and one hand on his belly. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re safe,” he said. “Both of you. I was so scared.”
“As was I,” Spock said hoarsely. He must have been yelling at some point. Suddenly, he convulsed, but when he looked up his eyes were clear. “Jim, I believe I am going into labor.”
*
Captain’s Personal Log, 2262.241: For the record, I’m noting that it’s 0346, but who would have expected any child of mine to make things easy. Spock was in labor for over 20 hours, but Bones swears to me that Father and baby are doing just fine; he hasn’t let me see them yet, the bastard. Instead, I’ve been stuck listening to Komack apologize for this fiasco. It’s not making me feel better. I just want to see my family.
When Jim was finally allowed into sickbay, he rushed over to the private room Spock had been assigned to. He stopped short, took a deep breath, and then waved his hand to open the door. Spock was sitting up in the bed, looking tired and faintly pleased. And there was a tiny bundle in his arms, wrapped in a silvery blanket. Do not just stand there, come in, Spock whispered into his mind, and Jim stepped into the room.
Jim tried to convey a question, and he felt Spock’s mental smile. A girl, Spock thought back. She is sleeping.
Jim stepped forward to stand next to the bed. The little face was smooth in sleep, but she had slightly upswept eyebrows, pointed ears, and a head of dark hair. Jim smiled so hard his face hurt.
“She’s beautiful,” Jim whispered. Without needing to discuss it, Spock transferred the sleeping infant to Jim’s arms, and Jim sat on the bed next to Spock’s hip. He felt Spock’s hand settle on his knee, and for a moment Jim was happier than he could remember being in a very long time.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, examining that little face, before the baby started to wake up. Her eyes, he noticed, were blue. He turned to place her back in Spock’s arms, and watched with amusement as the baby looked quizzically at the world around her. “So, a girl, huh,” Jim said. “How about we name her Amanda?”
Feedback is better than chocolate.
Many thanks to L for helping me hammer out plot issues. This fic is unbetaed.
Spoilers for Star Trek OS episodes "The Cage" and "The Menagerie".
Warning: this fic contains mpreg. Don't say I didn't warn you, now.
Spock's pregnant with Jim's child, and the trouble was only just beginning.
Parturiency | NC-17 | 5808 words | complete
Captain’s Personal Log, Stardate 2262.32: There may be an observable change in the command team dynamic tomorrow. At the very least we’ll be able to turn down the lights on the bridge, since I’ll be beaming, and I don’t mean letting Scotty experiment with the transporter again.
Jim had never experienced a courtship this long, or this sexless. True, most of the time Jim fucked first and did dinner later, if at all. But this was different. It was Spock; it was important. Taking it slow felt right, and even though Jim had a galactic case of blueballs, he knew it would be worth it.
And now that Jim found himself half-naked in Spock’s bed, Spock’s lean, too-hot weight pressing him into the mattress, Jim knew he’d been right.
Jim was forcefully pulled into the present when Spock’s tongue stroked over his left nipple, rough and little prickly, like a cat’s. Jim made an embarrassing keening noise and ran his hands through Spock’s hair. “Spock, quit teasing, I’m dying here.”
“I find that to be exceedingly unlikely,” Spock said, and they could have been discussing something on the bridge, he sounded so impassive. “Unless you are referring to the ‘little death’, an ancient Terran euphemism for orgasm.”
“Spock, you can’t just say things like that,” Jim groaned. His hands scrabbled against Spock’s shoulders, and Spock let Jim pull him up into a deep kiss. “How can you be so unaffected?” he whispered against Spock’s lips. They were already bruised green from Jim’s kisses.
Spock pressed their hips together, and Jim felt an answering erection against his own. “I am hardly unaffected, Jim.”
“Heh, you said ‘hard’.”
Spock kissed him into stunned silence. “I do not appreciate your juvenile sense of humor at this time.” With his usual elegant economy of movement, Spock stripped them of their remaining clothes and stretched out against Jim’s side, the heat of him welcome even in the already warm room. “You are remarkably aesthetically pleasing.”
“Flatterer,” Jim said, but there was a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the heat of the room or Spock’s skin. He tried to pull Spock back on top but wound up rolling so he was rearing up over Spock, his hairy thighs around Jim’s hips. Spock gasped and tightened his grip. “Spock?” he asked, shifting his hips.
Spock made a choked sound. “Please, Jim,” he gasped.
Like Jim was going to say no. “Do you have lube?”
“Unnecessary,” Spock said, and Jim groaned. “Saliva will be sufficient.”
Knowing Spock had a thing for fingers, Jim pressed the tips of his own to Spock’s lips. Spock made a noise suspiciously like a groan and sucked them into his mouth. A few seconds later, the gentlest tug from Jim and Spock released them. Jim leaned forward to kiss him as he brought his fingertips down to press up behind Spock’s balls. Spock sighed, and Jim’s fingers slid in to the second knuckle. “Okay?”
“Affirmative,” Spock said, his voice becoming choked as Jim began to shift his fingers. He looked gorgeous: sweaty, hair mussed, a little breathless, a dark green hickey on his collarbone. “Do not tease me, Jim.”
Jim chuckled, low and filthy, and added a third finger. The slide was easy; Spock must have great muscle control. “Ready?” he asked, waiting until Spock was pushing back against him eagerly, which didn’t take long. Jim removed his finger and, without needing to look, lined himself up and pressed in.
Spock made a soft keening sound and gripped Jim’s shoulders. “Jim, if you do not move, I will make you.”
Jim smirked but complied, Spock bucking up into each thrust. They were setting a bruising rhythm, but it was clear Spock was enjoying himself and Jim was on the verge of exploding. He reached down and wrapped one hand around Spock’s erection, with its distinctive double ridges.
“Jim?” Spock asked, placing the fingertips of his right hand again Jim’s face. They’d talked about this; mind melds are for more than just interrogation or the transfer of information. Jim nodded, and then he was gone.
*
Captain’s Personal Log, Stardate 2262.118: Spock collapsed on the bridge today and was taken to sickbay. McCoy tells me it’s nothing life-threatening, so I can’t go down to see him until I get off my shift. Damn, sometimes I hate being captain.
Jim came skidding into sickbay something like two and a half minutes after the end of his shift; he’d have to reprimand himself later. But Spock was visible from the door, sitting up in biobed with a PADD in hand. He looked a little pale, but otherwise fine. Jim felt like he could breathe for the first time since he’d heard Spock hit the deck plating. “Hi,” he said, suddenly almost shy. “How’re you feeling?”
“I am well,” Spock said, but Jim could tell he was distracted. He didn’t remind Jim that he didn’t feel, for a start.
“Bones have any idea what happened?”
“Affirmative. I-” Spock stopped, as if unsure how to proceed.
“Oh, tell him, Spock,” Bones said, coming out of his office. His grin didn’t reassure Jim at all. “I can’t wait to see his face.”
Spock visibly steadied himself. “Jim, I appear to be pregnant.”
Jim must have looked appropriately gobsmacked, because Bones laughed. “Sit down before you fall down, Jim.”
Jim did as he was told, collapsing into a chair next do Spock’s biobed. “I…don’t even know where to start,” he said. “I mean, I thought you were male, Spock.”
“According to Starfleet, I am,” Spock said testily. “Even after the destruction of Vulcan, we tend to be a secretive species, particularly on the subject of our biology.” Bones grumbled irritably, and Jim couldn’t disagree; this would not be the first time Vulcan secrecy had bitten them in the asses. “Vulcans have three genders rather than two, but since this third gender is not required for procreation, as in species like the Vissians, and to better assimilate into a largely-bigendered universe, it is not common knowledge. Physiologically we are almost identical to the male of the species.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me at some point?” Jim didn’t mean to sound whiny, but he would have liked to know.
“I believed you already knew,” Spock said, and Jim blinked. “When we have engaged in intercourse, you have unerringly found my-”
“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Bones said. “I don’t need to know that part.”
Jim decided to be smug about his assumed prowess rather than embarrassed by the fact that he’d missed. “Usually people mention that pregnancy could be a possibility. Or they use some kind of contraceptive.”
“Until today, I was functioning under the assumption that I was infertile,” Spock said, and Jim wanted to hug him. “There were tests when I was a child.”
Jim gave in and laid his hand on Spock’s knee. Spock didn’t react, but somehow Jim knew Spock found it comforting. “How far along is he?” he asked Bones.
“Twelve weeks, one day, ten hours,” Spock said.
“Now, wait a minute,” Bones said. “How is it that you didn’t even know you were pregnant, but you can calculate conception down to the hour?”
“Captain Kirk and I have only engaged in that particular sex act one time in the-”
“Okay, okay,” Bones yelled. “You’re just full of information I don’t want to know.” Jim could have sworn Spock looked smug. “ The medical logs have some information about the Vulcan gestational cycle. How accurate is that, in your case?”
“I cannot be certain,” Spock said. “As I am a hybrid, and carrying a child with additional human DNA, I believe the Terran expression is ‘all bets are off’.”
“Great,” Bones grumbled. “Alright, since Jim looks like he’s going to explode, I’ll skedaddle and let you two talk for a bit. But don’t leave that bed, Spock, I’m still keeping an eye on you.”
Jim waited until they were alone in the sickbay before reaching to take Spock’s hand, surprised that Spock latched onto his fingers rather than avoiding them. “How are you, really?” he asked softly.
“I cannot tell you with any certainty at this time,” Spock said, which Jim took to mean that he was freaking. “This is a most unexpected turn of events.”
“Do you…do you want to terminate the pregnancy?” Jim asked. He felt his heart clench a little at that-something he’d have to investigate later, he’d never thought he’d wanted a family-but this was Spock’s life and career they were talking about.
“Logic dictates that I should,” Spock said. “The timing is inconvenient for numerous reasons, and I am not certain of my abilities to properly raise a child on my own.”
“I’m hardly going to abandon you, Spock, if that’s what you’re worrying about,” Jim cut in quickly. “I…I love you, I’ll back you up, whatever you do.” He felt what could only be described as a happy warmth in the back of his mind, and remembered that they were still holding hands. He wondered what of the tangle of his emotions Spock was picking up.
“I never doubted that,” Spock said, but Jim could tell he wasn’t being entirely honest.
“The mission’s almost over, we can take a sabbatical until the baby’s born, then work it out from there,” Jim said. “I’m sure Starfleet is dying to have you back teaching.”
“I wish to keep the child,” Spock said earnestly. It was the most emotion Jim had heard in his voice since the unhappy events that had brought them together in the first place. Spock must have picked up his surprise, because he said, “I have been having difficulty maintaining my usual control, likely because of the reserves my body has reallocated to the nurturing of the embryo. It is likely the increased effort I put into my shields kept me from sensing the other mind within me.”
“You can sense it now?”
“Only faintly,” Spock said. “May I show you?” Jim nodded, and Spock pressed warm fingertips to the side of Jim’s face. “My mind to your mind,” he said, and Jim was falling…
Warmth all around him, Spock’s mind, familiar and beloved. He let himself float on the wash of emotions like waves of an alien ocean until there was a sensation like a hand on his elbow and he was directed to focus.
Where Jim usually visualized Spock’s mind as science blue, this was green-gold, compact but strong, radiating contentment. The knowledge that Spock believed that simplicity of thought was normal for this state of development dropped into his mind, and Jim exuded happiness. He felt an answering ebb of complicated emotions wash over him and…
Spock placed his hand back in his lap and Jim smiled. “Never going to get used to that, am I?” He felt a sudden spark of amusement in the back of his mind that he knew wasn’t his own, but they weren’t touching anymore. “Spock, are you still in my head?”
Spock actually looked confused for a moment, and Jim felt what could only be described as Spock poking around in the back of his mind. “It appears our minds spontaneously formed a bond, likely on the basis of our decision to raise the child.”
“Oh God, did we just get married?”
“Vulcan law has a more complex system than Earth or the Federation,” Spock said, and Jim could feel…fear? “By Vulcan law, we are betrothed. I can remove the bond if you wish.”
“No,” Jim said quickly, “as long as it’s okay with you. I’d have liked to propose the old-fashioned way, but this works, too.” He smiled, and felt the fear ease.
“You guys done yet?” Bones asked, poking his head out of his office.
“Hey, Bones, we’re getting married,” Jim said, and he felt Spock’s exasperated amusement. He tried to project happiness back to him and was pleased with Spock’s surprised, happy response before Spock obviously raised his shields. They’d have to talk about all this later; Jim was a little overwhelmed now.
“Wonderful,” Bones said, but Jim could sense the real affection under the feigned annoyance. “I’m going to have a hell of a time updating your records.”
“I will contact the Vulcan Science Academy and see if I can supplement the information you have about the Vulcan gestation cycle,” Spock said, and Bones nodded. “I will also contact my father.” Now, that would be a fun conversation.
“Hey, Bones, think the baby will have my looks and Spock’s brains?” Jim said, smirking when his plan to annoy both of them worked beautifully.
“Our luck, it’ll be the other way ‘round,” Bones grumbled, and Jim pretended to be insulted. “I think you just weren’t eating enough for two. I know you tend to forget to eat entirely when you’re playing with one of your shiny experiments.”
“Vulcans require less food and sleep than humans,” Spock said, obviously put-out.
“Well, not this Vulcan,” Bones said. “Not while you’re feeding the little one, too. I’d ask Jim to help you remember, but we all know he’s worse than you.” Jim rolled his eyes. “How about this: you eat three meals a day, I won’t call you Mrs. Kirk.”
“That is inducement, Doctor.”
“You bet it is,” Bones said. He pulled a hypo and Jim winced in sympathy as Spock got a shot in the neck. “Prenatal vitamins. I’ll give you a hypo for them and you can self-administer. Now, both of you, out of my sickbay. And congratulations,” he added, more gently. “Lord knows what the universe is getting itself into.”
*
Captain’s Personal Log 2262.160: Crew seems to be taking it well, though I think Uhura’s secretly laughing at me. I’ve had people offer me babysitting services, which is just weird. The Admiralty, on the other hand, are not so accommodating.
“There’s nothing I can do about it, Jim,” Admiral Pike said, and Jim frowned. Pike didn’t usually use Jim’s first name in official transmissions. “The orders come from over my head. You know Komack’s never been a big fan of you two.”
Jim sighed. “Have you told Spock yet?”
“I was hoping you could pull him in here for this transmission,” Pike said. “Is he in his lab?”
“Bones keeps threatening him with bedrest,” Jim said, knowing his smile was fond but not bothering to hide it. He leaned over and pushed the call button. “Kirk to Mr. Spock, can you come to my ready room?”
“I will be there in 3.46 minutes, Captain.”
Jim grinned. He and Pike chatted until Spock arrived, trading ship and Academy gossip. “Spock, good, Admiral Pike wants to speak with you, too,” he said when the door slid open, revealing his visibly-pregnant bondmate. For whatever reason, the embryo was developing more quickly than a normal Vulcan or Human pregnancy; Bones was estimating they had less than three more months to go. Jim didn’t really want Spock giving birth on the ship, but it was looking more and more likely they wouldn’t have a choice.
“Admiral,” Spock acknowledged. He was standing so close to Jim’s chair that his hip was pressed against Jim’s arm. It was a protective gesture, and even though Jim knew Spock had been having trouble controlling his emotions now, it was still strange to see.
“I’m afraid I have news you may not like,” Pike said, and Jim could feel Spock’s concern in the back of his mind. It was still strange to be able to feel Spock that way, but it was also very helpful. “The Admiralty is reassigning you to the medical research station at Starbase 42.”
“I understand that Captain Kirk’s and my assignments after our current mission are still flexible, but I do not see the logic of my assignment to a medical research post,” Spock said. “Certainly there are personnel who are more qualified in that field.”
Pike sighed. “The new assignment is effective immediately,” he said. “And you’re not going to be a researcher, you’re going to be a research subject.” Test subject, Jim mentally translated, and he could feel Spock’s outrage, too.
“That is unacceptable,” Spock said, and even Jim was surprised by the emotion in his tone. “Dr. McCoy is perfectly qualified to provide my care, and we are recording all observations for the Vulcan Science Academy’s records. My reassignment at this time would be highly illogical, as there is no one to fill my position and a journey to Starbase 42, even at maximum warp, would take the Enterprise two weeks in the wrong vector in space.”
“Lieutenant Monroe is to be promoted to interim Science Officer, and Admiral Komack is sending a new First Officer to meet you at Starbase 42,” Pike said, looking contrite. “I’ve already tried to stall this every way I can think of, Spock. I’m sorry.”
“I am certain you have taken every possible action,” Spock said, and the warmth in his tone reminded Jim that Spock had been friends with Pike before he’d ever met either of them. “I believe, then, that my only course of action is to resign my commission and return to New Vulcan. If it is not possible to assign the Enterprise to convey me, I will hire civilian transport at our stop at Starbase 74.”
Jim’s heart clenched, but he knew Spock was right. He’d read the formal orders from Komack; there had been something sinister in the phrasing, though he couldn’t put his finger on anything specific. “I’ll let him do it,” he said, reaching out to take Spock’s hand. It reflected how bad things were that Spock let him. “And after this current tour I’ll follow him.”
“I’ll bring that ultimatum to the Admiralty,” Pike said. “And I want to go on record saying I’d have done the same thing. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have news. Be safe.”
“You’d really resign?” Jim asked once Pike had signed off and they were alone, turning to face Spock.
“Vulcans do not lie, Jim.” Jim made a face. “Without hesitation. You would not?”
Jim smiled, sending a wave of affection to Spock through their link. “I think I just did.”
*
Captain’s Personal Log 2262.172: Chris finally got back to us about Spock’s ultimatum, and it didn’t go well. The Admiralty is refusing to change Spock’s reassignment, and they won’t let the Enterprise detour to take him to New Vulcan.
“This is bullshit,” Jim said, pacing back and forth in Spock’s quarters. Spock said on the bed, packing his few belongings into a replicated suitcase. Since his formal resignation two days before, Spock had been wearing civilian clothes instead of his uniform. The Vulcan robes were attractive in a slightly alien way, but Jim missed seeing the being he loved in science blues.
“I do not see the relationship between current events and cattle excrement,” Spock said, but Jim thought he was teasing. “There had been a 74.32% probability of this outcome.”
“It’s still bullshit,” Jim grumbled, settling on the bed. Spock activated the fasteners on the suitcase and placed it on the floor. “You’re a sentient being. You have every right to turn them down and still keep your job.”
“My position with Starfleet is less important than my health, or the health of our child,” Spock said simply. He sat back against the pillows at the head of the bed and put his legs up onto the bed with a soft, pained sigh. Jim poked around in the back of his head and then pulled Spock’s feet into his lap, massaging ankles he hadn’t realized were swollen. “Thank you.”
“You could ask, you know,” Jim said, with a fond smile. “I think it’s part of my job as the…well, the other father. Massaging your feet and going to the replicators in the mess when you’re having odd food cravings at 0300 and that kind of thing.”
“I did not realize there were such rules to these things,” Spock said, and now Jim knew he was teasing. “I am forced to admit that I will miss you an unmeasureable amount when I am on New Vulcan.”
Jim felt the change in conversational tone like he could feel the ship change from warp to a full-stop. “Me, too,” he said, resting his hands on Spock’s calves. “We’re out here another month and a half and then I’ll join you on New Vulcan as soon as all the paperwork goes through. I’d go with you now,” he added regretfully, “but I can’t just leave the ship without either of its command officers.”
“If you could,” Spock said, “I would not want you to join me.”
Jim smiled at the implied compliment, but it quickly faded. “We’re going to be arriving at Starbase 74 in a matter of minutes,” he said. “We can’t stay more than a few hours while Scotty loads on those new injectors.”
“I have arranged transport with a Tellerite freighter to New Vulcan,” Spock said. “I will likely be out of communication during the journey, but I will contact you as soon as we arrive.”
“Good,” Jim said, gently laying his head on the curve of Spock’s belly. “And you in there, you protect your dad, okay?” He chuckled at Spock’s raised eyebrow. “Let me be illogical, alright?”
Whatever Spock might have said was interrupted by the comm system wheezing into life. “Captain Kirk?” Sulu’s voice said. “We’ve arrived at Starbase 74.”
Jim sighed and sat up. “Tell Uhura to begin docking protocols, and let Scotty know to be ready for the first shipment. I’ll be on the bridge in ten.” He scrubbed both hands through his hair. “I probably won’t be able to see you off,” he said regretfully.
“Do not worry overmuch, Jim,” Spock said, reaching out to caress his fingers in the familiar gesture. “As long as we are bonded, I will never truly be separate from you.”
“Really? It works over distances that long?”
“The bond will be faint, but present,” Spock said. “I am grateful for this.”
Jim leaned in to kiss Spock the human way. “Me, too.”
*
Captain’s Personal Log 2262.226: Mapping star systems is really starting to grate. I swear, the Admiralty is punishing me; how was this more important than taking Spock home? It’s been almost a month and still no word from him. I’d say I’m starting to worry, but I’ve been worrying since Spock beamed off the ship. If worrying it all it takes to be a good parent, I’m going to be awesome.
“You know, you’re cute when you’re pining,” Bones said, and Jim wanted to hit him but he knew he was right. “Still no word?”
“Not yet, and even at warp one they should have gotten there already.”
“Have you considered calling him yourself?” Bones suggested, swirling his brandy, and Jim felt like an idiot. “You really hadn’t?”
“Shut up,” Jim said. “Computer, open communiqué to home of Ambassador Sarek, New Vulcan.”
“Acknowledged.”
“Ambassador,” Jim said, when Sarek’s face appeared on his screen. He almost looked worried, but Jim had to be imagining things.
“Captain,” Sarek replied. “Have you news of my son?”
Shit, Jim thought, as well as a lot of angrier things in a number of languages. “I was going to ask you the same question. He’s not on New Vulcan?”
“I received a text-only communication 15.7 days ago reporting that he would be delayed, and have not heard from him since,” Sarek said. “It is most illogical that he has not contacted neither you nor I.”
“The last I heard, he was boarding the freighter at Starbase 74,” Jim said. “Do you have any information on the freighter?”
Sarek shook his head. “It is most strange. I believe it to be astronomically unlikely that Spock would disappear of his own will.”
Jim hadn’t even thought of it. He was already picturing Spock being kidnapped. “Is it possible Starfleet would take…drastic measures to get Spock to the lab at Starbase 42?”
“Most things are possible, but I would consider it to be improbable,” Sarek said. “I will make inquiries.”
“Let me know if you find anything,” Jim said. Sarek nodded and ended the transmission. “Well, what the hell do I do now?”
“You probably have Uhura shake someone at the base, see if they find that freighter,” Bones suggested.
Jim shook his head. “There’s another way,” he said. “The bond. Spock said it would be faint, but still there. Maybe he can tell me where he is.” Jim was pleased Bones didn’t roll his eyes. Jim closed his eyes and reached out.
Spock.
But there was nothing, and Jim opened his eyes in shock.
“What?” Bones asked. “Did you find him?”
“There’s nothing there,” Jim said, eyes wide. He felt…empty. “It’s like he’s gone.”
“Could it be because of distance?” Bones suggested.
“No, he said it would always be there, no matter how far apart we were,” Jim said. “And he’s not dead, I’d feel it. The bond is just…gone.”
“Could he have separated you?” Bones asked. “I know we’re assuming he didn’t go willingly.”
“I would have felt that, too,” Jim said. “We talked about the bond a lot. If he-or anyone else-cut the bond, it would have hurt. A lot.”
“So what happened?”
“I don’t know,” Jim said. “Maybe some telepathic species has him, is blocking the bond.”
“They’d have to be very powerful.”
Jim nodded. “Computer, list all known species that have telepathic abilities that are as powerful or more so than Vulcans.” The list was long enough to be unmanageable. Jim frowned, an idea tickling at the corner of his mind. “Cross-reference with any species to have logged interest in fertility of other species.”
“No results,” the computer said.
“Cross-reference original list with Spock’s old missions,” Bones suggested.
“That’s narrowed it to half a dozen,” Jim said. “And a couple of those are Enterprise missions. Computer, bring up mission report summaries for listed species.” He turned the screen so Bones could see. “Anything jump out at you?”
“This one’s got no summary,” Bones said, pointing. “And I think that’s just a planetary designation, not a species. Talos IV.”
Jim clicks open the report, but all it says is that the planet was visited by Pike’s ship, and now it’s off-limits to all Federation citizens. On pain of death. Great. “Somehow, this sounds like the right place,” he said, pressing the button to call the bridge. “Helm, set course for Talos IV. Communications, get me a secure connection to Admiral Pike. Let me know when you have him. We need to talk.”
*
Captain's Personal Log, 2262.238: Of course Spock visited a planet of fertility challenged aliens while he was serving with Chris Pike. Why is my life full of coincidences like this? We're warping there now-only hours away, thankfully-but there's more bad news: Bones says we're entering the window he and Spock calculated as most likely for Spock to give birth. Naturally.
“Exiting warp in the Talos system in three, two, one,” Sulu counted down, and the part of Jim's brain that wasn't slightly hysterical noticed that his helmsman really liked counting things.
“Take position in orbit over Talos IV,” Jim said. “Scan for any lifesigns. Hopefully they won’t realize we’re here and block us.”
“There’s a cluster of lifesigns on an island off the west coast of the northern continent,” Monroe said from the science station. Jim missed hearing Spock’s voice so much. “One might be Vulcan. I’m not sure, there’s some kind of interference.”
“That’s to be expected,” Jim said. He had Pike’s description of events, and it was scaring the crap out of him. “Bones, Giotto, are you and the away team ready?”
“Ready, Captain,” Giotto said. “Engineer Scott is ready to beam us down on your command.”
“Wait until I get there,” Jim said, standing and heading for the turbolift. “Sulu, you have the con.”
“Jim, shouldn’t you stay aboard?” Bones asked, but it was clear from his voice that he didn’t expect to succeed.
“Spock’s down there,” Jim said. “Like hell I’m staying up here.” He all but ran down the corridor to the transporter room and strapped on a phaser. “Beam us down, Scotty.” Jim pulled his phaser, and they disappeared.
The surface of the planet looked just like Pike had described it: rocky and ruined, with a doorway built into the side of a hill. It opened as they approached, revealing an obviously not pregnant Spock.
“Spock,” Jim said, rushing over to him and taking his hand. “What happened?”
“The Talosians have taken the child,” Spock said, and Jim could hear the sadness and anger in his voice. “They wished to experiment on this new form of life. The embryo did not survive.”
Jim could see Spock’s emotions in his face, but when he reached into the back of his mind, it was still suspiciously empty. He dropped Spock’s hand and stepped back. “You’re not Spock,” he said, raising his phaser.
“Jim,” Spock said, reaching out to him. “Please.”
“No,” Jim said, and he fired, hitting the image of Spock full in the chest. The landscape wavered and coalesced into the courtyard of a remarkably Terran castle. Jim heard gasps from the away team behind him, breathed a sigh of relief; they were still with him. “Come on,” he called, gesturing to the arch where the original doorway stood. “This way.”
They ran through the arch, and Jim could feel the sizzle of a light forcefield on his skin. They burst into a new courtyard, this one filled with tables of reclining, feasting figures, a trio of Orion dancers in the center. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Jim said, running past the dancers and through another archway, Bones right on his heels and the security detail a few steps behind. As Pike had suggested, Jim focused on his anger and the sumptuous garden around them began to waver. “Focus, Bones,” he called. “Be angry.”
It felt like a puzzle sliding into place in his mind, but suddenly Jim could feel Spock, angry and scared and in pain. He held onto that like a lifeline and found himself in what could only be a laboratory. Spock was laid out on a table, struggling feebly, surrounded by short, big-headed creatures in grey robes. “Get away from him,” Jim yelled, stunning the closest Talosian. The others tightened their circle around Spock, so Jim was hesitant to fire for fear of hitting him.
Three bursts of phaser fire from next to Jim hit a trio of Talosians twenty feet away in the centers of their chests. Jim looked to see Bones standing next to him, phaser still in position. “Don’t be surprised, Jimmy,” he said, his drawl thicker than ever. “You ain’t the only one with weapons training.”
It seemed like they were the only ones who could see the Talosians to fire, but he and Bones were able to take down the rest of the aliens. As soon as it was clear they rushed to Spock’s side-the security team finally aware and comming the ship-and Jim watched helplessly as Bones scanned him. Spock didn’t seem to be aware of them, and Jim was sure his face was greyer than was healthy. The round curve of his pregnant belly stood out starkly.
“He’s going to be fine, Jim,” Bones said. “He’s sedated, but it’s nothing that’ll hurt him or the baby. I think they were using their mind tricks on him.”
“Captain, the transporter room says we need to be aboveground before they can beam us up,” Giotto said.
Jim nodded sharply. He handed off his phaser and lifted Spock into his arms. Spock was heavier than he looked, and his long limbs and protruding stomach made him hard to carry, but Jim pushed forward. “Giotto, have you been able to generate a map for down here?”
“Done,” Giotto said. “This way.”
Jim couldn’t run, but they walked quickly through the complex, and soon they were out in the slightly grey air on the surface. Jim lowered Spock to the ground as carefully as he could. “Beam us up,” he said into his communicator, arms still around Spock’s twitching body. The last thing he saw before they beamed was the recognition and happiness in Spock’s opening eyes.
It took a few minutes for the gurney Bones called for to reach the transporter room, and Jim clutched Spock to his chest, face buried in Spock’s shoulder and one hand on his belly. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re safe,” he said. “Both of you. I was so scared.”
“As was I,” Spock said hoarsely. He must have been yelling at some point. Suddenly, he convulsed, but when he looked up his eyes were clear. “Jim, I believe I am going into labor.”
*
Captain’s Personal Log, 2262.241: For the record, I’m noting that it’s 0346, but who would have expected any child of mine to make things easy. Spock was in labor for over 20 hours, but Bones swears to me that Father and baby are doing just fine; he hasn’t let me see them yet, the bastard. Instead, I’ve been stuck listening to Komack apologize for this fiasco. It’s not making me feel better. I just want to see my family.
When Jim was finally allowed into sickbay, he rushed over to the private room Spock had been assigned to. He stopped short, took a deep breath, and then waved his hand to open the door. Spock was sitting up in the bed, looking tired and faintly pleased. And there was a tiny bundle in his arms, wrapped in a silvery blanket. Do not just stand there, come in, Spock whispered into his mind, and Jim stepped into the room.
Jim tried to convey a question, and he felt Spock’s mental smile. A girl, Spock thought back. She is sleeping.
Jim stepped forward to stand next to the bed. The little face was smooth in sleep, but she had slightly upswept eyebrows, pointed ears, and a head of dark hair. Jim smiled so hard his face hurt.
“She’s beautiful,” Jim whispered. Without needing to discuss it, Spock transferred the sleeping infant to Jim’s arms, and Jim sat on the bed next to Spock’s hip. He felt Spock’s hand settle on his knee, and for a moment Jim was happier than he could remember being in a very long time.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, examining that little face, before the baby started to wake up. Her eyes, he noticed, were blue. He turned to place her back in Spock’s arms, and watched with amusement as the baby looked quizzically at the world around her. “So, a girl, huh,” Jim said. “How about we name her Amanda?”
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