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The day of the Kelvin disaster, the galaxy learned that Vulcans and Romulans share an ancestry. This sparked a massive uptake in xenophobia directed towards Vulcans.

Spock's counterpart informed him that in his universe, such information was not revealed until an encounter nearly four months into their first five-year mission. The Spock of that universe dealt with the resulting xenophobia as a fully-grown, emotionally matured and accomplished Starfleet officer. 

(Emotionally matured might be a bit of a stretch.)

He handled it with what he thought was utmost professionalism while simultaneously trying to retain any dignity he could. That is to stay, he froze like a broken computer, completely caught off guard, and then Kirk displayed that terrifying icy anger he got sometimes, for the first time that Spock had seen.

After thorough and heavy debate, Spock convinced Kirk not to issue Stiles a formal reprimand on his file.

But this was not that universe. This Spock was not that Spock, and this Kirk was not that Kirk.

"I understand you gave up a career in bio-research to sign aboard a starship," Kirk said amiably.

"I know he's alive down there, Captain," Chapel said. 

"It's been five years since his last message," he said, aiming for tactful but realistic. He could only hope he was successful. 

"Roger's a very determined man," she insisted. "He'd find a way to live."

"Beginning signals to surface, sir," Uhura said.

Kirk hopped out of his chair and approached the science station. "Put it on all frequencies, Lieutenant."

"Ship's records show little we do not already know about this planet, Captain. Gravity is 1.1 of Earth. Atmosphere within safety limits," Spock said.

"But the surface temperature of that planet is 100 degrees below zero."

"It may have been inhabited once, but the sun in this system has been fading steadily for a half million years," Spock said. "Now Dr. Korby... Often called the Pasteur of archaeological medicine. His translation of medical records from the Orion ruins revolutionized our immunization techniques."

"Required reading at the Academy, Mr. Spock," Kirk said dryly. They weren't two months into their mission yet. They didn't really know each other yet. Spock's respect would come, the epic friendship would come. Jim had faith. "I've always wanted to meet him. Do you think there's any chance of him still being alive?"

Spock did not answer.

Jim grimaced to himself and went back over to Christine who, y'know, actually liked him. She was horribly optimistic, and Jim didn't-- try to dampen that, he just didn't want to see her heartbroken after they-- most likely-- failed to find this guy. He couldn't ever imagine being in love the way she was, hanging on for years without contact, giving up a career, refusing to accept even death as the end.

Though, if the Ambassador's memories from their shared meld were to be believed, once upon a time he had done exactly all of that to the letter and then some.

But he wasn't that Kirk. And in this universe? Love didn't seem to be on the books.

"Enterprise. Come in, Enterprise. This is Roger Korby. Repeating: this is Dr. Roger Korby. Do you read me, Enterprise?"

"Enterprise to Korby, we have your landing coordinates pinpointed and we're preparing to beam down a party. It may interest you to know that we have aboard this vessel--"

"I have an unusual request, Captain Kirk. Beam down alone, just yourself. We've made discoveries of such a nature they may require an extraordinary decision from you."

Spock got up and went to the captain's chair to express his disapproval. "That is an unusual request," he said warningly.

"...The man making it is Dr. Roger Korby," Jim defended.

And no, scientific hero worship did not play into that.

Shockingly, it seemed to work on Spock. "You are certain you recognize his voice?" he asked Christine.

"Have you ever been engaged, Mr. Spock?" she asked.

Spock was, in fact, currently engaged. He failed to see the relevance. Kirk had an amused expression on his face, like he found the idea of Spock ever being engaged completely ridiculous.

"Oh yes, it's Roger," Christine said, smiling and positively radiating joy. Spock swore he could feel the noise of it hitting his shields even from this distance.

"Agreed, Doctor," Kirk said into the comm.

"However, there will be two of us. Hello, Roger," Christine said, still beaming.

"Christine?"

"Yes, Roger."

"Darling, how-- Where are you? Yes, yes, by all means, Captain. I-I had no idea, no hope. Darling, are you alright?"

"Yes, Roger. Everything's alright now."

Spock took the con and it wasn't even two minutes later that Kirk commed him.

"Kirk to Enterprise."

"Spock here, Captain."

"Beam down two security officers."

"Any problems, Captain?"

"Some delay in meeting us. Probably nothing. Kirk out."

Spock gave the command and resumed his duties. He felt a slight sense of unease, and quashed it mercilessly. Statistically, the Enterprise had to have some peaceful, easy missions. It was bound to happen eventually, and this might be it. Spock would not spend that time worrying.

Worry was illogical and accomplished nothing. Giving in to it was a human weakness of his. It would not be tolerated.

"Frequency open, Mr. Spock," Uhura said. 

"Spock here, Captain."

"Contact established with Dr. Korby."

"We were becoming concerned, Captain. Your check-in was overdue, and since we had not heard from your security team--"

"No problem, Mr. Spock. Bear with me. We will be returning to the ship within forty-eight hours. Dr. Korby's records and specimens will require careful packing."

"Captain, are you alright? You sound tired," Spock said. There was a beat of silence. "Acknowledge, Captain. Is everything alright?"

"Fine, Mr. Spock. Dr. Korby has made some fascinating discoveries. All under control. Stand by for regular contact. Kirk out."

"Captain," Spock greeted. "We finished ahead of schedule."

"Dr. Korby has considerable cargo to beam aboard. I'll have to go over our destination schedule with him," he said, rifling through a drawer and pulling out a padd.

"You intend to go back down with the command pike?"

"Mind your own business, Mr. Spock. I'm sick of your half-breed interference, do you hear?" he said absently.

"...Yes. Very well, Captain."

"You look upset, Mr. Spock," he said, sickly sweet. "Is everything alright up here?"

"No problems here, sir."

"Good. I'll beam up shortly with Dr. Korby and party."

And that was that. It really was an easy, peaceful mission, with the exception of the deaths of both security officers in a freak rockslide, apparently. They dropped Dr. Korby off at Midas V, and despite all the fuss about his groundbreaking discoveries, they were written up in the report as being fairly mundane.

He did seem unusually anxious to get to Midas V, however, to continue his uninteresting research. Nurse Chapel transferred off the ship to be with him. Uhura gave her a watery hug and kiss, McCoy was gruff and told her to look out for herself, complaining about how he'd never have another head nurse as good as she was.

"Well in fairness, doctor, I was a bit over-qualified," she teased.

"Damn right," McCoy said. He gave her a quick hug. "You go on and get your doctorate for me, you hear?"

"Of course, doctor."

He gives her one last hug and the entire medical staff and all her friends see her beam out, waving and wishing her well the entire way.

They have mundane missions, finally, normal stops and drop-offs. They ferry diplomats around and do star mapping and collect samples upon samples from every planet they come across. Things proceed exactly as they were before, with one exception. The captain stops asking Spock to play chess with him, to eat meals with him. Overall, he stops associating with him entirely outside of work.

He also appears to do the same to a Ms. Gaila Vro.

"Jimmy! Come play cards with me and Scotty, it's been forever," she says excitedly.

He arched an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure you're supposed to call me 'captain,' Lieutenant."

She giggled. "Okay, Captain," she said, voice sultry. "Well, if you don't wanna play cards, then maybe we can go to your quarters and have sex instead."

Scotty grimaced and took another drink. Spock quite agreed with the sentiment.

Kirk leered and walked over to the lieutenant, trailing fingers over her shoulder and up her neck. He suddenly curled his fingers and gripped the hair just above her neck tight, yanking her head back and making her shoot him a questioning glance. "Sure thing, sweetheart. Now see, doesn't that seem like a much more appropriate activity for someone like you?"

"Someone like me?"

"An Orion whore," he smiled. "All you people are good for is a fuck."

"Cap'n!" Scotty said, outraged.

"Jimmy?" Gaila asked.

"What?" he said. "Like isn't true? I mean, c'mon, an Orion in Starfleet? There's a reason you're the only one, Lieutenant, and it's 'cause you give such good head."

"Captain!" Scotty stood from the table, face mottled red with rage. "I demand you apologize to my engineer right this instant!"

He laughed. "Oh, so she's yours, is she?" He shrugged. "Alright. Sorry, Kiva."

Gaila's face crumbled and then reformed itself into a stone mask in an instant. She laid down her cards and walked out of the rec room at a carefully controlled pace, head high and holding all the grace and poise of a queen.

Spock made a point to approach her the next day.

"Lieutenant Vro," he said. "May I speak with you?"

She looked up at him from her secluded spot all alone in a back corner of the mess. Her eyes were hard and dull. "Sure," she said. "As the humans would say, 'knock yourself out.'"

Spock placed his tray down at the seat opposite her. "I could not help but overhear your conversation with the captain the other day."

She winced.

"I wish to ascertain your emotional wellbeing."

"I'm fine," she said. "It's nothing I haven't heard before. It's just, I thought Ji-- I thought he was different." She poked at her salad of vibrant Orion leaves and fruits. "I loved him."

"He is not what I thought he was either," Spock admitted. "Do you intend to file a report against him?"

She laughed. "What good would it do? What, they'd put a little note in his file and make him go to sensitivity training? So what? And, you know, I don't... I don't want to hurt his career. He was my friend for years. When I first came to Earth, I was completely alone and didn't even speak Standard. I slept with everything that moved because I thought I had to and my therapist has a lot of opinions on that, but whatever. Jimmy was the only one who didn't treat me like... like I was just a hole to fuck. Him and Nyota, they got me through the Academy when I would have crashed and burned otherwise."

"I grieve with thee," Spock said.

"He called me Kiva," she said. "That was the name my first master gave me. It took me three years to trust Jimmy enough to talk to him about it. And then he called me Kiva."

"His actions were inexcusable and uncalled for. I strongly recommend writing him up for improper conduct, but it is ultimately your choice."

"Thanks, Spock," she said. "But if I have a choice, I think I'll take it. Who would believe me anyway? I mean, we were sleeping together. The captain of the Federation flagship accuses a former Orion sex slave of sleeping her way to the top? After we've spent years actually sleeping together? There would probably be more repercussions for me than for him. Worst case scenario is they start investigating whether I deserve my commission." She shook her head. "I'm not gonna make a fuss. I worked way too hard to get here. This is a dream come true, I can handle a few comments."

She took a deep breath and flashed Spock a bright smile. "See? I'm fine."

They visited a planet that was, inexplicably, an exact replica of Earth in the early twentieth century. They encountered a pubescent child named Miri who took quite a shine to the captain and informed them that a plague had wiped out all of the adults, leaving only the children behind.

Then a blue and red plague spot appeared on McCoy's hand.

Soon enough, the entire away team except for Spock was displaying symptoms. Miri led them to a long-abandoned hospital where they could go over the existing data and work on creating their own cure before the madness set in. The captain had a spot on his hand, the last to show signs, and he seemed to make a habit of displaying it, looking at it intently, putting it in clear view of others. Spock determined this to be an illogical human urge to assure the crew he was in this with them.

"Bones," Kirk said. "Why do you think the symptoms haven't appeared in Mr. Spock?"

"I don't know," he said. "Probably the little bugs or whatever they are have no appetite for green blood."

Kirk snorted, smiling.

"Being a red-blooded human obviously has its disadvantages," Spock said. "There you have a museum piece, Doctor. Lens type: manually operated, light-activated--"

"Spare me the analysis, Mr. Spock, please. It is enough that it works." He said. Spock happened to know that he kept an extensive collection of obsolete medical technology, presumably for instilling fear within his patients. Though he had to admit that his proficiency with antiques was quite useful at the moment.

"I estimate she has five or six weeks left," Spock said quietly. Miri was across the room they were using for research. Kirk had asked her to sharpen a bunch of pencils for them.

"What about us?" McCoy asked.

"The older the victim, the more rapid the progress of the disease."

"And you?" Kirk asked. His mouth twisted into something sour. "Not even the disease seems to be interested in you. I suppose after this is all over and we're all dead, you'll just beam back to the Enterprise and take command of my ship."

"I am a carrier," Spock said. "Whatever happens, I cannot go back to the ship. And I do want to go back to the ship, Captain. I assure you I am as invested in looking for a cure as you are."

Kirk gave him a level, cynical look. "Right. Of course."

He asked Spock repeatedly if he was sure about his calculations, even going so far as to have them confirmed by shipboard scientists. Spock and McCoy were able to work together to resynthesize the original virus and thus create a cure, eventually.

Spock made the mistake of leaving McCoy unattended for a few moments, however, and in the throes of madness he injected himself with the untested, possibly unstable and unsafe vaccine they had concocted. He promptly passed out. 

He was very lucky that it worked.

Kirk called him a dumbass and gave him a long hug.

When Spock was eleven, he initiated a physical altercation with three of his peers. He was remarkably small for a Vulcan of his age, possibly even for a human, he was unsure. In addition, as a hybrid, his strength was a fraction of that of his full-blooded peers. It was almost unbelievably foolish of him to physically challenge three opponents. It was an extreme failing of his logic. His fragile human control was completely overcome by the strength of Vulcan emotion.

An instructor felt inclined to use the incident as a case study in a lecture.

"Cross-breeding has its purposes," they said. "In the fields of botany and microbiology, it can even be useful. Many compatible sentient species engage in interbreeding with no ill effects. However, Vulcan biology is unique and comes with unique demands. Vulcan emotion runs deep and strong. Our control is unparalleled by any other species in the galaxy, and it is a necessity. To procreate with other species lessens that control. It is a failing of logic to not consider this. Vulcan half-breeds are thus both over-emotional and out of control, a throwback to the era of pre-Surak savagery."

The instructor looked directly at Spock. "The fact that the only one to survive to maturity is of the House of the Surak is both ironic and shameful. There have been eight deliberate attempts to create half-breeds. Only one has been successful, and even that is sterile, perhaps for the best. In my personal opinion, the creation of such beings is dangerous and should be considered criminally negligent. Just two weeks ago, the son of Sarek assaulted three of his peers. His emotions will only grow stronger and more uncontrollable with time. This poses a threat to Vulcan society."

The instructor scanned the room imperiously. "I now propose an intellectual exercise. I invite you all to participate in a class debate on the benefits versus the costs of cross-breeding, and when it is appropriate, if at all."

Amanda Grayson had three miscarriages before Spock was born. She always called him her miracle baby.

"Mother, that is illogical," Spock protested. "My existence is not a miracle by any definition of the term. It was the result of years of deliberate labor and was hardly surprising. It did not involve divine intervention and while statistically improbable, it did not have welcome consequences."

"Of course it did,  pi'veh," she said, kissing the top of his head. "It resulted in you."

An escapee from a penal colony manages to sneak aboard in a cargo container.

"Interesting. Your Earth people glorified organized violence for forty centuries, but you imprison those who employ it privately," Spock commented.

"And, of course, your people found an answer," McCoy said.

"We disposed of emotion, Doctor. Where there is no emotion, there is no motive for violence."

They encounter a weird glowing cube that stays directly in front of them no matter what they do. Spock says that it is likely either a space buoy or, concerningly, flypaper.

Doesn't understand human metaphors, Jim's ass.

They try to fly away, it doesn't work, so they blow it up instead. Kirk can only hope they have not provoked war. And now he has to decide to continue exploring further or turn back to safety with their tail between their legs.

Spock is bent over the science station to look into his awkwardly angled sensor. Jim walks up behind him and takes a seat on the rail that encircles the bridge, taking a moment to appreciate that ass. Spock doesn't notice, still looking into his sensor.

"Nothing, Captain. No contacts, no objects in any direction."

"Care to speculate on what we'll find if we go on ahead?"

"Speculate?" he asks, finally turning around and taking a seat. "No. Logically, we shall discover the intelligence which sent out the cube."

"Intelligence different from ours or superior?"

Wow, since when did Spock wear makeup? Jim had noticed the eyeshadow before, but it seemed particularly obvious now, indigo slashing upwards along the line of his brow. And pink lipstick. Jim wondered if his lips actually were pink, or if they were tinged green from his blood.

And it would be nice to see what other pink or possibly green body parts he might have, but Jim had already pushed it enough for today. A red alert had sounded right towards the end of his quarterly physical with Bones, and that had inadvertently resulted in Jim comming Spock twice while shirtless and sweating. And also walking through the halls that way. Whatever, he had to deal with the red alert, he figured putting on a shirt could wait.

"Probably both," Spock said. "If you are asking the logical decision to make--"

"No, I'm not. The mission of the Enterprise is to seek out and contact alien life."

"Has it occurred to you there is a certain inefficiency in constantly questioning me on things you have already made up your mind about?"

He grinned sharkishly. "Someone has to make sure your logic's up to snuff, Spock. I mean, it's gotta be hard for you to fake it all the time, playing at following Surak's teachings. I just don't want a repeat of what happened the first time we met, ya know?"

Spock stiffened. "Such a lapse will never occur again."

"Good," he said. "Because I know what you Vulcans are like. I've been inside your minds. All animals, every last one of you, putting on a pretense of civilization. But even that can't last forever." He grinned and looked Spock up and down, slowly, letting him feel the weight of his gaze. "Every seven years, right?"

Spock's eyes widened involuntarily. "Captain--"

"Back to work, Mr. Spock," he said loudly, walking away.

The alien vessel declared their ignorance and destruction of the warning buoy demonstrated un-peaceful intentions, and for that, they would be destroyed. So then Kirk just started making shit up about an imaginary substance called corbomite that worked in mysterious ways and would totally destroy any vessel that tried to destroy the Enterprise, and conveniently there was no record of it ever, at all.

It worked, shockingly.

But then a much smaller ship detached from the big massive ship and started towing them to a planet where they would be interned and the Enterprise destroyed. A surprisingly merciful fate, given what they had been told to expect five minutes ago.

They were able to pull away, but they nearly blew their own engines in the process.

"A signal, Captain," Uhura said. "It's very weak. It's Balok. It's a distress signal to the Fesarius. His engines are out... His life-sustaining systems aren't operating. The message is repeating, sir."

"Any reply?" Kirk asked.

"Negative. His signal is growing weak. Sir, I doubt if the mother ship could have heard it."

"Plot a course for it, Mr. Chekov."

"For it, Captain?" Spock asked.

"Dead ahead." He walked over to his chair and pressed the button for the intercom. "This is the captain speaking. The 'First Federation' vessel is in distress. We're preparing to board it. There are lives at stake-- by our standards, alien life-- but technically lives nonetheless. Captain out."

"Course plotted and laid in, sir," Chekov said.

"Mr. Scott, ready the transporter room."

"Aye, sir."

"Mr. Sulu, bring us to within 100 meters. Ahead slow."

"Ahead slow, sir."

McCoy pushed off the bulkhead and went over to his friend. "Jim, don't you think this is a bit dangerous? Fifteen minutes ago, that guy was ready to kill us all! And now you're bringing him on board?"

"He'll be half-dead and up against over four hundred humans, Bones, what's the worst he could do?"

"Repairing his ship--"

"Who said anything about repairing his ship?" Kirk asked. "I'm not sending people over there to save his ass, Bones. That fucker's gonna pay for his crimes. If I have my way, he'll never see his homeworld again."

Spock settled in before his computer console and placed a call request into New Vulcan. It connected within 3.8 minutes.

He held up the ta'al, and his counterpart did the same.

"What troubles you, young one?" the ambassador asked, entirely too perceptive for Spock's comfort.

"The captain," he said. "He implied that he has experienced a mind meld before. In addition, he spoke of pon farr."

"Ah," his counterpart said. "Yes. I did meld with him. It was a necessity of circumstance, I'm afraid. While on Delta Vega, I wished to convey a maximum amount of information in a minimum amount of time. I was aware of acute emotional transference, but he neglected to inform me that some of my other memories may have slipped through."

"I see," Spock said, frowning slightly. "You encouraged me to pursue a connection with him. You called him a friend. I assume you meant such in the human definition of the term?"

"Negative," the ambassador said. "James Kirk is our t'hy'la."

"I fail to see how that is possible. He is an extremely unpleasant individual."

The ambassador's face shone with warmth and amusement. "Give him time, young one. You are only a few months into your mission. I have no doubt that he will show himself to be one of the greatest, kindest souls you will ever encounter."

Spock is not unused to xenophobia. From age twelve up until he left Vulcan, he kept a dermal regenerator hidden in a tomb of rocks in a secluded area of his parents' estate. He developed a pattern for dealing with it.

After the first incident with his schoolmates, he told his parents. The school did not contact them because students' personal matters were not their concern and also because there is no Vulcan procedure for handling emotional conflicts. Such things are private and expected to resolve themselves.

His mother fussed and gasped and treated his wounds and made him tea, encouraging him to talk about it. He was stiff and robotic throughout the whole affair. He had never been so Vulcan as he was then. 

Amanda was outraged and called the school, yelling at them about bullying and outdated policies and intervention. Her emotionalism ensured she wasn't listened to.

Sarek sat him down and spoke with him about Vulcan nature. He told him he had a choice: to be human or to be Vulcan. Or perhaps he did not say that, but it was what Spock heard.

He chose Vulcan.

Sarek talked to him about methods of suppression and control and meditative techniques. He told him that violence went against the tenets of Surak. A true follower of the Vulcan way would never take another's life, no matter the circumstances. He spoke of Vulcan martyrs who would sooner die of starvation in the desert rather than renounce their vegetarianism and kill to eat. He told Spock that he was a descendant of the great Surak himself, that such devout logic was in his blood, his blood that ran green like any other Vulcan's. He told him this was his heritage.

He taught him Suus Mahna, but Spock insisted on learning the defensive moves only.

A few times after that, his mother asked him if he had ever gotten in any other fights at school. Spock always answered no. It was not a lie. A true 'fight' requires mutually enacted violence, and Spock's continued altercations were anything but mutual.

He followed the Vulcan way devoutly. The logical failings of others were not his concern.

Ms. Karidian was blonde, nineteen, and a damsel in distress. She was also a horrible flirt.

And it appeared that so was the captain.

Spock had heard of Kirk's reputation before. Nyota had wasted no time informing him exactly what she thought of their commanding officer. And during the incident at the Tantalus colony, Spock had burst into the facility armed with a phaser only to find Kirk passionately making out with Dr. Noel. He had given him his best disappointed glare and then attended to the crisis.

But this was on a whole different level entirely.

"See, our schedule is like a chain. One break and it all collapses," Ms. Karidian said.

"Be a shame if that happened," Kirk murmured.

She looked up through her eyelashes at him. "If ever we needed a good Samaritan."

Kirk clicked his tongue and went over to lounge in his chair. "Well, I--"

"I appeal to you."

"The regulations are very clear about taking on passengers."

"I'll make a bargain with you, Captain."

He grinned. "What have you got to trade?"

"Special performance for the crew," she said, chin high. "In exchange for a lift."

"You make it sound interesting. The crew's been on patrol for a long time." Patently untrue. "They could use a break in the monotony." There was no monotony.

"Then you'll do it?" she asked, ecstatic.

"You've got me backed into a corner," he smiled. "The crew would never forgive me if I deprived them of your performance... and your presence."

"Thank you, Captain. I'm eternally grateful," she said. "I'll get the company ready. This means so much to them."

He led her to the turbolift, eyes on her the whole way. "Mr. Spock, prepare to leave orbit as soon as the entire Karidian company is beamed aboard."

"May I inquire as to our course, Captain?" he asked.

"Benecia colony."

"The Benecia colony is eight lightyears off our course."

"Mind your own business, Mr. Spock. I'm sick of your half-breed interference, do you hear?"

Uhura whirled in her seat. "Captain?!"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

She gaped. Her mouth snapped shut, anger clouding her features. "Nothing, sir."

"Lieutenant Kevin Riley in communications-- I want him transferred down to the engineering deck," Kirk said.

"He came up from engineering, Captain," Spock said.

Kirk glared. "Yes, and now I'm sending him back. Or is that too hard for your hybrid brain to compute?"

Spock ignored that. "Any explanation? He is a fine young officer. He is bound to consider this transfer a disciplinary action."

Kirk gave him a dry look. "Can you just once follow my fucking orders, Spock? I think I've had enough of your Vulcan condescension for one day."

Lieutenant Riley somehow ingested tetralubisol that had made its way into his milk glass. Spock made a note to check all of the synthesizers for dangerous malfunctions. A phaser on overload was found in the captain's quarters and incinerated with barely seconds left. Spock proposed a formal investigation.

"Nope," Kirk said. 

"Captain, regulations state that when an assassination attempt has been made aboard a Federation starship, the command team is required to launch an investigation. As you were the target of this attempt, it is only logical that I take over the proceedings."

"Logical, Spock, maybe, but completely unnecessary. I'm handling this."

"If I may at least advise--"

"You really don't--"

"The Karidian players are highly suspect," Spock plowed on, and shockingly, Kirk snapped his mouth shut and let him talk. "A Dr. Thomas Leighton was murdered while we were in orbit of Planet Q, at a dinner party he was hosting for the Karidian players. I believe you asked me my opinion of him shortly before this. The troupe is invited onboard the Enterprise, and an officer ingests poison under highly suspect circumstances, hours after you transferred him for what I now believe to be an effort to preserve his safety. Shortly thereafter, a phaser on overload is placed in your quarters, and you are not unduly surprised. This tells me that you know exactly what is going on. You know who the targets are. You likely know who the perpetrator is. You knew the Karidian players were dangerous and you brought them on board anyway. I have not yet cross-referenced the names of the involved parties--"

"Don't," Kirk warned. "I think you've done quite enough, Mr. Spock. I forbid you from investigating further. If I find out you have anyway, I'll bring you up on charges of insubordination."

"Very well, sir."

Kirk grinned and slapped him on the shoulder.

It turns out that Lenore Karidian is the wanted serial killer, and her father is Kodos the Executioner.

She kills him too.

Spock connects the dots. She was going after the Tarsus 9 to protect her father, killing off the only eyewitnesses who could endanger him. Meaning that Kirk was one of those few. Perhaps living through a eugenics purge is what has led to his unseemly views, his belief that humans are superior to all others. Kodos put every nonhuman on Tarsus on the kill list. Kirk would have seen that as an adolescent. It was a poignant way to drive a message home, and would surely have had a great impact on young and impressionable minds.

Spock concludes that Kirk had been most definitely on the live list. It was only logical.

Spock was in the gym, stretching in preparation for going through some Suus Mahna exercises. The gym is not unduly crowded today, for which he is thankful.

Kirk and McCoy are halfway across the room from him, and speaking with relative quiet. They likely believe he cannot hear them.

The sound of a slap. "Stop ogling the hobgoblin."

"What, how am I supposed to not ogle him? You see the way he's bending over there? He's like... exceptionally bendable. That can't be natural."

"Thought you hated him."

"I do. I still appreciate a fine piece of ass when I see one though."

McCoy snorted. "Keep dreaming, kid. Vulcans are the most prudish society in the Federation. He sure as hell ain't gonna sleep with you."

"Oh believe me, I will keep dreaming," he leered. "I've never had a Vulcan before. Need to cross them off my 'aliens to screw' list."

"You got issues, kid."

"'Course, maybe Spock shouldn't count, him being half-and-half like that."

The doctor gave him a strange look and they resumed their boxing.

Spock moved on to practicing his defensive maneuvers and the captain and doctor let their conversation fall. Things continued in this manner for 8.4 minutes.

"Hey, Spock!" Jim called out, grinning and trotting over to him. "Wanna spar?"

"Captain, I must decline."

He frowned. "Why?"

"I have dedicated this time to practicing Suus Mahna maneuvers."

"So practice them on me," he said.

Spock could think of no logical rebuttal. Why could he think of no logical rebuttal?

"C'mon, Spock," Jim said, hitting him with the full force of what he referred to as his 'puppy dog eyes.' "Please?"

Spock suppressed a sigh. "Very well, Captain."

They took their places on the large empty space reserved for sparring and padded with mats along the floor. McCoy meandered over, taking a place at the edge of the area and leaning back against a treadmill to watch.

Spock assumed a defensive stance and Jim had already lunged.

Jim was a whirlwind, inescapable, and Spock used every move he knew and even made up a few, but he kept losing ground.

Jim flipped him over his shoulder and Spock went sprawling on the mat, barely getting to feet in time to receive a punch to the solar plexus that knocked the wind out of him. He dodged and attempted to wrest Jim's arm behind his back, but the man slipped out of the hold easily and kicked Spock's legs out from under him. He gave a swift kick to Spock's side, right where his heart was, and he curled in on himself protectively. Jim crouched down before him for better reach, grinding his foot down on Spock's hand and making him cry out as bones were crushed. He grinned in that horrible way that Spock was getting used to and slammed a fist into his face with the force of a bullet.

"Jim!"

Another punch, this time to the eye.

"Jim, the fuck! Security!"

Jim jumped back away from Spock as if burned. He started stammering. "I-I'm so sorry, oh my god, I don't know what came over me. It's just, this thing with Kodos--"

"Shut the hell up," McCoy snapped. He waved off the security officers and helped Spock to his feet, letting him lean on him. He gave Jim one last glare and led Spock out of the gym to medbay.

He put Spock in a private examination room to keep him away from prying eyes. McCoy was white-faced and tight-lipped throughout the entire examination.

His heart had suffered severe bruising. There was a minor fracture line around his cheekbone and another along his eye socket. The right side of his face was puffy and swollen, already going from green to the blue-ish shades of Vulcan bruises. His right eye was filled with blood. Several bones in his right hand had been pulverized. 

McCoy tenderly wiped away all the blood and fixed his broken bones. He used a dermal regenerator to repair the torn flesh, but the evidence of bruising would remain. He wrapped Spock's hand in bandages, careful not to touch the flesh, and then slipped a black medical compression glove over it.

"I want you to wear that for one week and then come back here to have your hand examined again. Don't do any work with it, or generally anything, really. I don't think your psi-sensitivity has been damaged there, but I know how fragile and sensitive Vulcan hands are, so I want to err on the side of caution. Use your left hand for everything until I tell you otherwise. Is that understood?"

"Yes, doctor."

"Good." He nodded. "Now listen. I don't know what the hell was wrong with Jim today--"

"I do not believe anything was wrong with the captain."

McCoy gave him an incredulous look. "He beat the ever-loving shit out of you in a fucking sparring match and you don't think that's out of character?"

"Negative," he said. "I am aware of the captain's animosity towards me. That, combined with severe and unusual stress, would logically elicit an emotional response and actions that normally would have suppressed."

"So let me get this straight," he said. "You think that Jim hates you so much that it takes all his control to refrain from physically beating you, and that when he gets a little bit stressed and goes postal, that's just an excusable slip-up? Spock, is there something you need to tell me?"

"Negative."

"I know you and Jim ain't exactly the best of friends and you have your disagreements, but this is not normal behavior. This is not how command teams are meant to function."

"I am aware, Doctor. There is nothing that can be done about it, save my own demotion."

"The hell there isn't anything that can be done about it! Spock, this isn't right! I oughta have you both psychologically evaluated for a stunt like that!"

"That would not be needed nor appreciated, Doctor."

"Alright then, work it out yourselves. But you will work it out. You two need to trust each with your very lives. Now, you and I have our differences, but that's never put anybody's lives in danger, and it's certainly never landed someone in medbay with broken bones, for god's sakes. I'm not askin' you to be all buddy-buddy, but I want to see some improvement. Don't think for a second that I'm gonna let this go."

"Bones says I need to apologize to you or else he'll write me up for misconduct," Jim said later. "So I'm sorry."

Spock was not actually stupid. He arched an eyebrow. "Apologies are unnecessary. Especially false ones."

"I agree with you completely. But Bones doesn't." He shrugged and gave a quirk of his mouth. "If he asks, just tell him I apologized and that the rest is private, okay?"

Spock nodded.

When Spock announced his enrollment in Starfleet, his mother warned him that he might face xenophobia while living on Earth. He did not heed her words. He frankly found them to be preposterous. On Vulcan, he had faced discrimination due to his impure blood and human characteristics. His blatant emotionalism and lack of control. His horribly expressive eyes. He had always been counted as a human. When he left the planet of his birth, many referred to it as him leaving to be with his own kind. He could not imagine that the full-blooded humans would not recognize him as one of their own, despite his half-Vulcan heritage.

But they did not. They viewed him as totally Vulcan, totally alien. They apparently did not notice the physical differences between himself and his full-Vulcan peers, differences that had been continually pointed out and remarked upon for the entirety of Spock's life.

And he found, strangely, for the first time in his life, that he was judged as being too Vulcan. His mother had been right.

Kirk was in the middle of officiating a wedding-- something he had always wanted to do-- when Spock sounded the red alert.

Outpost 4 under attack, Outposts 2 and 3 gone radio-silent. These outposts happened to be the military bases that were stationed in a neat little row just on the Federation's side of the Neutral Zone.

So it was pretty clear who exactly was attacking.

Spock briefed the crew over the intercom. "Referring to your screen maps, you will note beyond the moving position of our vessel a line of Federation outpost stations. Constructed on asteroids, they monitor the Neutral Zone established by treaty after the Federation-Romulan conflict of over a century ago. As you may recall from your histories, this conflict was fought-- by our standards today-- with primitive atomic weapons and in primitive space vessels which allowed no quarter, no captives, nor was there even ship-to-ship visual communication. Therefore, no human, Romulan, or ally had ever seen the other until the day of the Kelvin massacre. Little is yet known about them.

"The treaty, established by subspace radio, established this Neutral Zone, entry into which by either side would constitute an act of war. The treaty has been unbroken since that time. Captain."

Kirk took over and informed the crew of the standing order to all Federation starships: do not enter the Zone under any circumstances. They were permitted to defend themselves, but if it came down to it, this ship and any outposts were expendable for the sake of maintaining the peace.

It had been a long, brutal war.

"We know Outpost 4 has been attacked, sir, so if we intercept the Romulans now--" Stiles started.

"After a whole century, what will a Romulan ship look like, Mr. Stiles?" Kirk asked. "I doubt they're gonna radio in and identify themselves."

"You'll know, sir. They're painted like a giant bird of prey."

"Didn't know you were so into history."

"Family history. There was a Captain Stiles in Starfleet then, two commanders, several junior officers-- all lost in that war, sir."

He nodded. "I knew a lot of good officers who were lost in the Battle of Vulcan. Romulan bastards got my dad too. But orders are orders; I can't go into the Zone just to shoot at them." He smiled slowly. "But if they should happen to get caught on our side of the Zone, well, that's another story. I've killed Romulans before, but I don't think it was quite enough to even the score, was it?"

Stiles smirked. "No, sir. It wasn't."

"Cancel battle stations. All decks standby alert," Kirk said.

"Captain," Stiles said, spinning around to face him. "May I respectfully remind the captain what has happened? Romulans have crossed the Neutral Zone, attacked our outposts, killed our men."

"Mr. Stiles--"

"Add to that the fact that it was a sneak attack!"

"Mr. Stiles, are you questioning my orders?"

"Negative, sir. I'm pointing out that we could have Romulan spies aboard this ship."

There was a moment of silence.

It was possible. It would take very little for a Romulan to disguise themselves as a human or human-like species. Even less for them to simply claim they were Vulcan. But Spock and an ensign named T'Rena were currently the only Vulcans on board. Spock had spoken with T'Rena in passing, and she conformed perfectly to Vulcan philosophy and had an insider's knowledge of their culture.

"...I agree, sir," Sulu said. "Respectfully recommend all decks maintain security alert."

"Alright," Kirk said. "All decks security alert."

Stiles seemed intent to glare at Spock, as if waiting for him to slip up and somehow reveal himself as a Romulan spy. It was to the point where he was distracted from his work, but Spock elected not to point that out. Now did not seem like a good time to alienate the humans.

Kirk kept looking over at him as well. This was puzzling, as he knew full well that Spock was Vulcan.

Finally he came over to the science station, half-bracketing his chair with his arms and speaking close to his ear. "That guy we saw on the screen, the Romulan captain," he said. "He sure looked an awful lot like your dad."

Spock shifted away in an effort to regain some of his personal space. "There was some physical resemblance," he admitted. "There were also noteworthy differences."

"Yeah? I didn't see any," he said. "I said they looked alike, but that's not quite true. That thing up there is a damn mirror image of Sarek. You sure your dad isn't a double agent? Wouldn't want this to get awkward."

"My father is not a Romulan spy, Captain. He is currently on New Vulcan, liaising with Earth, and you can comm him if you wish."

Kirk laughed. "Yeah. Yeah, of course you're right. God, you Vulcanoids all look the same." He pushed away and wandered over to Uhura's station. "Decoding?"

"Cryptography is working on it, sir," she said.

"Give it to Spock," Stiles muttered.

Kirk smirked, glanced lazily over at Spock, and returned to his chair.

Stiles is sent off down to phaser to man the weapon systems in a small, closed-off control room.

"Damage reports, Mr. Stiles?" Spock asked.

"Negative," he said, eyes fixed on the console.

"Will you require any assistance here?"

Now he turned to look at him, eyes practically burning. "I think we can handle things without your help, Vulcan."

Spock inclined his head and left the room.

Mysterious purple gas immediately began pouring out of a thingamajig. It filled the room at an unprecedented rate.

"Tomlinson!" Stiles called out, but it was too late, Tomlinson had already collapsed onto the ground from inhaling too much of the purple smoke.

Stiles coughed and gagged, falling to his knees.

It was at this point that Kirk started screaming over the intercom for him to fire the phasers. Stiles reached desperately up for the console, straining to press a button, any button.

Spock rushed into the room and his fingers flew over the keys to vent the place, then he ran over to another console and pressed the button to fire repeatedly, delivering the finishing blows.

McCoy dragged them both off to medbay, grumbling the entire time about damn fool stunts. Kirk joined them shortly.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes, very well. Thank you, Captain," Spock said.

"And you, Mr. Stiles?"

"I'm alive, sir. But I wouldn't be. Mr. Spock-- he pulled me out of the phaser room. He saved my life. He risked his life, and after I--"

"I saved a trained navigator so that he could return to duty. I am capable of no other feelings in such matters," Spock said primly.

"How many men did we lose, Bones?" Jim asked.

"Only one. Tomlinson. The boy who was going to get married this morning," he said. "His fiance's at the chapel now."

Spock frequently took his meals in the company of Nyota and Gaila, and occasionally Mr. Scott. Today was one of those such days. Chekov also elected to join them, citing that Sulu was skipping lunch to continue working on a botany project.

They spoke amiably about the upcoming shore leave, the recent election of a new Federation president, and had a minor debate on the prevailing theories of particle physics that Nyota did not take part in.

Then Kirk and McCoy, seeing most of their senior staff sitting together, decided to join them.

Nyota dabbed a napkin to her lips and discarded it on her tray. "If you'll excuse me, I have a joint project going on with cryptography to translate a Trillian code used in ancient wartime."

"Oh, I'll go with you!" Gaila said. "You could use someone to help with the coding, right?"

"Oh yeah, definitely, thank you so much," she said. "Spock, do you want to come too?"

"It does not appear that my skills are needed," he said.

Nyota smiled. "Come anyway. It'll be fun."

He arched an eyebrow. "As a Vulcan, I have no need for fun."

Kirk snorted. He opened his mouth to make a comment, and Nyota cut him off.

"It will be a stimulating intellectual exercise that serves the dual function of strengthening your social bonds, how about that?"

"Very well," Spock acquiesced. He gathered his tray and followed the two women out of the mess hall, disposing of the food on the way out.

They went to Nyota's quarters and she immediately went over to the synthesizer. "What do you guys want? So sorry you didn't get to finish lunch, by the way."

"Oh, it's fine," Gaila said breezily. "I'll have crinan juice and some tuteya."

Spock frowned. "If you were not finished eating, then why did you choose to leave at that time? Surely the Trillian code could wait."

"Oh Spock," Gaila said. "There is no Trillian code."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I made that up," Nyota said.

"For what purpose?"

"To escape and rescue you both."

"May I ask from what?"

"You seriously don't know?" Gaila asked.

"Kirk," Nyota said. "Now you don't have to spend time with him. God, it's bad enough that he's our captain, but does he really have to intrude on our personal time?"

Gaila scoffed. "Please. He wasn't there for us. He was there for Scotty and Chekov and Bones. He's probably glad we're gone, if he even noticed at all."

Nyota flopped on her couch, sipping some exotic fruit tea from Delta IV. "You know," she said. "I thought Kirk was a lot of things, but I never would have pegged him for an outright racist."

"He does appear to have troubling views," Spock said.

"It's not just his views that are troubling," Nyota said. "Half your face was covered in bruises two weeks ago and you're still wearing a compression glove on one hand. You never explained what happened, but it was Kirk, wasn't it?"

"...We were sparring."

"Sparring. Right."

"Now see," Gaila said, leaning forward in Nyota's desk chair. "I go sparring twice a week. I've never once been injured, no matter who my opponent was or how fast the match ended. So, y'know, that maybe doesn't sound like sparring to me."

Spock took a seat next to Nyota on her couch, body suddenly feeling heavy. She stretched out her legs so that her feet rested in his lap. "I do not wish to discuss the matter," he said. "It is over now, and my injuries are almost entirely healed. That is all that matters."

"Yeah, until Kirk gets you killed in a firefight, or straight-up orders you to your death."

"That will not come to pass."

"You don't know that," she said. "I don't know how the fuck he passed his psych exams, but that man never should have been made a captain. I don't care how desperate the 'Fleet is. Starfleet's mission is one of peaceful exploration and contact with new species, and having a raging bigot in charge undermines that."

"Take it up with Command, then," Gaila said lazily. "See what good it'll do. Maybe then they'll make Spock Starfleet's first ever Vulcan captain instead of Kirk. Wouldn't that be a nice, shocking turn of events?"

"She has a point," Spock said. "Starfleet has existed for numerous decades, Nyota. And in all that time, every captain of every ship has always been human. It is fortuitous that I have even my current rank."

Nyota scowled. "You'd make a great captain, Spock."

"Negative. I would not," he said. "I have no doubt that there are Vulcans out there with great command potential, but I am most definitely not one of them, and furthermore, I do not desire to be. My duties as a scientist are pleasing."

She smiled softly at him and took another sip of her tea. "Gaila, get over here and cuddle with us. That's an order."

She beamed like the sun and giggled. "You're the same rank as me, you can't give me orders," she said, settling in on the couch nonetheless.

"Ah, but I'm a department head."

"Not my department."

"Whatever." She shoved her playfully, and countered it with a kiss to the top of her head. Gaila preened at the attention, snuggling into Spock's chest and pulling Nyota closer to her.

This was highly inappropriate behavior for decorated Starfleet officers, but Spock decided to permit it, stroking Nyota's hair absently.

"Mr. Spock, we're beaming down the starboard section first. Which section would you like to beam down with?" Kirk asked.

"Not necessary in my case, Captain. On my planet, to rest was to rest, to cease using energy. To me, it is quite illogical to run up and down on green grass using energy instead of saving it."

"Hmph. That figures. They really don't have any fun on Vulcan, do they? I don't know how your mother could have stood it, surrounded by lifeless computer-beings for years on end. Planet of the inanimate objects. That sort of environment just isn't healthy for a human, you know? We need love. They say that the men of Vulcan treat their women--"

"Captain, I did come here to discuss something with you," he said. "I picked this up from Dr. McCoy's log. We have a crewmember aboard who is showing signs of stress and fatigue-- reaction time down 9-12%, associational reading norm minus 3."

"That's way too low."

"He is refusing to take rest and rehabilitation. Now, he has that right, but we have found--"

"A crewmember's rights end where the safety of the ship begins. That man will go ashore on my orders. What's his name?"

Spock looked down at the padd curiously. "James Kirk."

He gave a plastic smile. "Wow, fuck you."

"Captain--"

"No, I don't wanna hear it, Spock. Shoulda known better than to trust someone like you. I don't appreciate being tricked. You wanna convince me to do something? You come up with a logical argument for it. That's the only thing you're on this damn ship for. And there's no way in hell I'm gonna take shore leave on your orders, you goddamn biological mistake."

They very soon determined the real nature of the shore leave planet, after Bones got stabbed in the gut by a knight and then rose from the dead with two scantily-clad cabaret girls in tow, whom he had apparently summoned through sheer force of horniness.

Kirk did end up beaming down after that.

"Spock, c'moooon, you have to come down with us," Gaila said. "I can do your makeup and me and Ny can help you pick out clothes and then we get soooo drunk and sleep with random crewmembers and we don't even remember it in the morning."

"That does not sound pleasant."

"It's tradition!" she said. "Ny, help me out."

"It is tradition, Spock," she said. She stripped efficiently out of her uniform and began rifling through her closet for appropriate civvies.

"Nonetheless," he said.

"Oh, come on! What if we skipped the getting blackout drunk part, huh? Would you beam down then?" Gaila asked.

"I would consider it."

"Yes!" she said. "Great! Ny, hurry up with your dress, we're moving this into Spock's room."

When Nyota had bought Spock black faux leather pants for Hanukkah one year, he had not anticipated wearing them, ever. Even she had admitted they were mostly a joke gift.

And now he was wearing them, through the efforts of blatant and protracted coercion. 

Thus launched The Shirt Debate. Spock wanted to wear a sweater, Nyota wanted him to wear a muscle tee, Gaila wanted him to wear some shimmery tank top thing or arrive shirtless. In the end, he wore a sweater, albeit a somewhat tight sweater that the girls picked out and seemed to appreciate the look of.

"Spock, I'll give you a blowjob if you wear high heels," Gaila said, licking her lips.

"Gaila--"

"I must decline."

She pouted, and then fixed Spock with a calculating look. "Okay, how about this? You know all those secret, illegal upgrades that Scotty makes? I will tell you about them beforehand, in detail, so that you can approve and log them yourself. Keep everything super-Regulation. For an entire month. If you wear high heels."

Spock paused. That was... tempting. But he would not make such a deal under false pretenses, as that would be immoral. "I feel I must inform you that I will not be engaging in regrettable sexual practices this evening."

"What? Why?" Gaila asked.

"I have a bondmate."

Nyota scoffed and waved her hand. "Spock, that excuse isn't gonna work. I know about Vulcan culture, and more importantly, I know you. T'Pring wouldn't give two shits if you slept with someone else. Actually, doesn't she have a steady girlfriend back home? That you wished her happiness with? Yeah. She would probably be hap-- pleased if you found someone else. She commed me two months ago and asked if you were 'engaging adequately' with other crewmembers."

Gaila put her hands on her hips and whirled towards him, face full of accusation.

The crew had set up an outdoor party of sorts, setting it up by simply imagining it into existence. Not everyone was there, some going off alone to indulge in their private fantasies coming to life-- a lot of which were sexual, but there were others like Sulu's as well. He had brought back the samurai from earlier, this time with equal armor and weapons for himself, and was determined to 'settle this once and for all.'

There was a small crowd of spectators around him. Chekov was running a betting pool.

The party itself was lit up with tiki torches and in the center was a fountain flowing endlessly with Romulan ale. Fireworks were continually going off in arrangements that varied from improbable to outright impossible. Buffet tables lined the glen and were overflowing with food-- rare delicacies from all over the Federation and beyond. Someone had conjured up a party boat and taken it out onto the lake, so the drunken revelry could continue out there. A number of others were in canoes or gondolas. There was a frankly inordinate number of fireflies, which the humans insisted was for 'the mood.'

Nyota kept pressing chocolates into his hand as the night went on, insisting Spock needed to loosen up on 'the best shore leave ever.' Spock went along with this in deference to her expertise. In truth, this was his first shore leave ever, as well as that of almost every other crewmember aboard. It was the first shore leave of their five-year mission, and many had been cadets before the mission began. Spock had not, but he always found an excuse to get out of going when under Pike's command.

He now wondered why, as this was not unpleasant, and the chocolate made him feel warm all over and quite a bit less stressed.

Lieutenant Shral O'oxinatrininan was not Spock's direct subordinate nor was he even in his department, he was in Uhura's. He was also quite attractive and stated his desires bluntly, in a way that Spock appreciated. He had leaned in close to Spock's ear to whisper this, warm breath ghosting and making Spock shiver.

They had beamed back aboard-- Spock taking a moment to say his farewells to Gaila and Nyota, who had similar plans for sexual intercourse with each other as well as T'Rena-- and Shral immediately began fondling Spock's hand, seeming to know exactly what he was doing, which again, Spock appreciated.

They were almost to Spock's quarters when the captain stepped out of his own and caught sight of them, jaw dropping. His eyes roved over Spock's entire body, stopping at their conjoined hands and glaring like it was a personal affront to him. His eyes were hard as diamonds when they flicked back up to meet Spock's.

Spock hurriedly keyed in his code and stepped into his quarters, ushering Shral in with him and closing the door.

"Hey, what was that?" Shral asked. "You two aren't together, are you?"

"No," Spock said. "We most definitely are not. The captain is merely... unpleasant. I do not wish to discuss it." He stepped close enough to breathe the other man's air, twining their fingers again. "There are much more pleasurable activities we could engage in."

He should have known that that wouldn't be the end of it.

A few months ago, Spock had taken to performing the majority of his duties from within the sanctuary of the science labs, unless he was absolutely required to be on the bridge for something. The science department as a whole was ecstatic about the change, seeing as most of them seemed to believe that Spock walked on water. He was able to offer more hands-on aid in this manner, and his scientists frequently came up to him asking for help or advice, which he gladly provided. It was somewhat reminiscent to his time as an Academy instructor, but different in that he had a load of scientific experiments to conduct himself, as well as the many duties of a First Officer.

He was currently going over personnel issues. Eight unnamed crewmembers had contracted Rigelian syphilis and Dr. McCoy wanted to test the entire ship's complement for it, just in case, as well as deliver a lecture on safe sex and preventative measures. Spock forwarded that particular request to the captain. Two ensigns from security had gotten involved in a physical altercation over a priceless Deltan heirloom they had bought together and that Spock had quickly determined to be a fake. Lieutenant Sulu was no longer speaking to Ensign Chekov after finding out that he had bet against him in the samurai battle on shore leave. There were two requests to transfer off-ship and ten requests to transfer on-ship, which was the biweekly norm.

Lieutenant Vro had sent him a detailed schematic of a modification Commander Scott intended to make to the replicators. It would either improve their speed, efficiency, and taste to a high degree or render them incapable of producing anything other than vibrantly pink strawberry mush. Spock was concerned as to how irreversible it seemed. He internally debated on preventing it being done or not. On the one hand, he could prevent mass disaster, but on the other hand, it would tip Scott off to the fact that he had an inside source in his department, and he might take to greater secrecy if he caught on. So really, what it boiled down to was whether or not Spock thought this was the biggest disaster Scott would cause this month, or if he was likely to do worse later on.

He was thoroughly engaged in calculating the odds of success versus failure when the captain sauntered into the science lab.

"Hey-o!" he said. "Surprise inspection time!"

Spock put down his padd and came to stand in front of him at attention. "Commander Spock reporting for duty, sir."

"Relax, Spock, this is gonna be super informal. I just wanna see what's going on. What's so interesting down here that you can't bothered to come to the bridge in over eleven days."

"Captain, if my presence had been required, you had only to state it."

"Not required, no. It's just... you get that every other starship in the 'Fleet keeps their First Officer actually on the bridge, right? In the captain's line of sight at all times?" he said. "You know, if being First Officer and Chief Science Officer is too much for you to handle, you should've told me instead of going all out for one job and completely ignoring the other."

"Have I been remiss in my duties in some way?"

His lips twisted slightly. "No."

"In what way have I displeased you?"

"I need my First Officer, Spock. You're supposed to be my right hand, at my beck and call whenever I feel like it. I want you on the bridge at least tw-- three times a week."

He nodded. "Very well."

"Good," Kirk said. "Now show me around. I want to hear about all your experiments. With as much time as you've been spending down here, I expect you'll have cracked Warp 10."

The inspection went smoothly, Spock's people working quietly and waiting their turn to show off their projects to the captain. There were 14 science labs aboard the Enterprise, due to its nature as a vessel for scientific exploration. The labs were generally quiet places, filled with only the whirs and beeps of equipment, the occasional murmur of scientists collaborating, the clink of glass vials, the hiss and bubble of compounds reacting. Spock found that it allowed for an almost meditative peace, and thus heightened concentration.

He would be displeased to exchange that setting for the organized chaos of the bridge three shifts a week.

The last experiment to be shown was Ensign Min's study on the effects of empathic projections on plant growth, with the hypothesis that positive emotional projection could increase crop yields up to 16% when applied properly.

Ensign Min was a young Betazoid woman and a skilled empath as well as a scientist. She had twenty potted tomato plants in her experimental group and another twenty in her control group. The plants were all kept in a special geranium lined with telepathic dampeners to keep unintended stray emotions from hitting them. Every day, Ensign Min gave the pots the appropriate dosage of water, sunlight, and a unique concentrated burst of emotion.

"So, let me get this straight," Jim said. "You're trying to prove that plants feel emotion?"

"No," she said. "I'm trying to prove that emotion affects plants. See, this is my Anger Plant. Look how bad it's doing. And that shriveled, dead-looking one over there? That's Despair. If that plant were a sentient being, it'd have clinical depression."

"You gave a plant depression," Jim said. "Wow."

She beamed. "Thank you, sir."

"Oh, th... Sure, kiddo," he said, with half a laugh and a somewhat condescending smile. He clapped Spock on the shoulder. "Well, Spock, it's nice to see what you're up to when you aren't taking Andorian dick up the ass."

The lab was deathly silent. Over twenty some ensigns suddenly found they had nothing better to do than stare at their commanding officers.

"Captain, that is inappropriate," he said.

"Yeah," Jim said, in an entirely different tone. "I'll say."

Let it be said that when Pike was captain of the Enterprise, the crew was the pinnacle of professionalism. Spock was proud to serve under such a man, and obeyed all his orders unflinchingly, without hesitation. The rest of the crew was no different. The Enterprise was the prime example of what a starship should run like. It was the crowning jewel of Starfleet. Its status as the flagship was not undeserved.

That said, the crew gossiped like there was no tomorrow, and that never had nor would change.

In the week that followed, Kirk wrote up six ensigns for insubordination, five from sciences and one from security.

It was tabled for discussion at the department heads meeting held every other Saturday for the first hour of Alpha shift.

There were five department heads: Lieutenant Uhura-- Communications/Linguistics, Lieutenant Hendorff-- Security, Commander Scott-- Engineering, Commander Spock-- Science, and Dr. McCoy-- Medical. The meeting was held in Conference Room A and Nyota brought muffins, as usual.

"Well," McCoy said. "What'd you do to piss off the science nerds, Jim?"

"Nothing, I swear!" he said. "Well, I mean, I gave them a surprise inspection, but it went really well!"

"Uh-huh," Uhura said. "Spock, how did the inspection actually go?"

"It proceeded adequately," he said.

"See!"

"Okay, 'adequately' means nothing," Uhura said. 

"What exactly did ye write these ensigns up for?" Scotty asked. "I mean, what did they say?"

"Um," Kirk said, blushing slightly. "I accidentally tripped Ensign Walters in the mess hall and she fell down and her food went flying everywhere, and then she flipped me off and said 'go fuck yourself, Captain Dickhead.'"

"That could be an isolated incident," Spock said, and McCoy nodded.

Kirk continued. "You know that Class K planet we just passed? Well, I was looking for science ensigns to go down on the away team with me to collect samples, and so I asked Ensign Davers, and she said she'd rather rip out her own eyeballs and eat them than spend five minutes with me. So I asked Ensign Matthews, who was standing right next to her, and he said he was too busy sucking Andorian dick. And then I asked Ensign Q'rtlkol, and he asked if I was sure I wanted him there, because he was a Rigelian and dating a human, which? I don't know. And so I basically said I didn't care what he did with his gross lizard dick, but it was apparently the wrong thing to say, because he told me to go eat my own feces."

Hendorff appeared to be engaged in a vicious battle to keep a look of absolute glee off his face, and Uhura was shooting Kirk her best icy glare of death.

"And so I told them that I was going to write them all up for insubordination, and then I went to find different, nicer ensigns. And I told this whole story to Ensign Gilmore, and she dumped like a whole giant thing of pepper into her drink, swirled it around in her mouth, and then spit it right in my face and walked away."

"I remember that," McCoy said. "Hey, how are your eyes doing? Has the inflammation gone down?"

"It's fine. Thanks for the eye drops," he muttered. "Okay, and so the last ensign was working on computer coding with Gaila, and literally I did was ask Gaila if she wanted to go up to my quarters, and the ensign threatened me? I didn't take it seriously 'cause this guy's like smaller than Chekov and probably couldn't take on a housecat and win, but still, threatening a superior officer is a serious offense. They're just a kid though, and probably weren't thinking, so I figured I'd only write them up for insubordination."

"How exactly did this ensign threaten you?" Uhura asked seriously.

"They said they'd rip my balls out and cut them into tiny pieces if I ever spoke to them or Gaila again."

Hendorff lost his battle and a short burst of laughter escaped him before he clamped down on it.

"Hey, this isn't funny! Gaila is one of my best friends, I should be able to talk to her without stupid ensigns getting in the way. Like, just 'cause that kid was jealous or whatever--"

"Laddie," Scotty said. "You seriously think Miss Gaila is your friend?"

"What?" Kirk asked. "Of course. We've known each other since forever."

Scotty let out a little 'hmph' at that, taking another sip of his morning tea.

"Sounds like the crew finally wised up to what a jackass you are," McCoy said.

"This is serious, Bones. My crew needs to respect me."

"Captain, if I may?" Uhura said. Spock's blood stilled in his veins. "I feel that maybe the problem is the crew doesn't feel like you respect them."

"What do you mean?" Kirk frowned.

"Well, it's just... some of your comments could be interpreted as being xenophobic."

"What?" he laughed incredulously. "I'm not xenophobic! I'm like the least xenophobic person ever! I mean, hell, I've slept with half the species in the Federation. And I have alien friends. Spock and Gaila are my friends."

"Captain, I am not your friend and I kindly ask that you never again refer to me as such," Spock said.

He paled. "What?"

"The word 'friend' on Vulcan is not to be used lightly and does not in any way describe our relationship. Sir."

His face darkened. "Alright," he said. "Next topic of discussion. Scotty, you broke every replicator on this ship, and so help me god, if I have to spend the next five years eating that disgusting pink pudding--"

Spock elected to work a triple shift after that. Then he spent a single shift sleeping and meditating in his quarters, and everyone was gracious enough not to disturb him. He worked the following Gamma and Alpha shifts in the labs, and repeated the process. All in all, he managed to avoid Kirk for almost four entire days.

He was eventually forced to work a bridge shift and almost immediately, Kirk called him into his ready room for a conference.

"What do you mean you aren't my friend?" he asked as soon as the door was closed. "We're t'hy'la. You know this. I know this. I know it wouldn't be appropriate for us to have a relationship, but why can't we be friends?"

Spock arched an eyebrow. "I did not realize you put such standards on yourself about fraternization. There are no regulations against it."

"It's not about regs."

"If I might ask, then what is it about?"

He snorted. "C'mon, Spock. Put that hybrid brain to work. There's no one appropriate for you. No Vulcan or human would want to dilute their race further by getting mixed up with you, and you're the only half-breed in existence, thank god. Like, you're hot enough for a fuck, I'll give you that, but an actual relationship?" He shook his head. "That's just wrong."

"I see," he said. "Why do you desire to be my friend, Captain?"

Jim opened his mouth to speak, and then paused, as if caught between two conflicting answers, as if something didn't quite compute. "Um. You know what, Spock? Forget I ever said anything. I'm... being illogical."

Spock led a team of six others in the Galileo shuttlecraft to investigate a quasar known as Murasaki 312.

They got lost and crash-landed.

McCoy sat down in the too-tiny seat in front of Spock, turning around to face. Spock used the opportunity to take his tricorder from him. "What do you think our chances are of contacting the Enterprise?"

"Under present conditions, extremely poor."

It was absolutely never a good sign when Spock refused to give an exact number. McCoy had heard a rumor that Pike had given him a rule to always keep it to himself if the chances of survival were under 5%. Now, that might not be strictly true. It might be some much higher number, maybe 20% or something. But as it stood, the entire crew believed that Spock had a 5% rule.

And it was fucking terrifying when he was intentionally vague.

"But they are looking for us, right?" McCoy asked.

"If the ionization effect is as widespread as I believe it is, Doctor, they will be searching for us without instrumentation-- by visual contact only. On those terms, this is a very large planet."

"Then you don't think they'll find us."

"Not as long as we remain grounded," he said. "We may be here for a very long time, Doctor."

He went outside to effect repairs and the doctor followed along after him.

"Well, I can't say much for the circumstances, but at least it's your big chance," he said.

"My big chance? For what, Doctor?"

"Command."

Spock turned away and returned to his work, but McCoy wasn't done.

"Oh, I know you, Mr. Spock. You've never voiced it, but you've always thought that logic was the best basis on which to build command. Am I right?"

Spock knew what humans thought of Vulcans. That they were all condescending, egotistical, and thought themselves superior. That after First Contact, they had held humans back technologically for over 90 years. That since the majority followed Surak's teachings, that meant they all thought the same way.

Spock had, on very rare occasion and usually in dire emergencies, voiced protest over a breach of protocol that Kirk intended to make. But he had never even thought to imply himself as a more capable captain. His regard for Kirk's personality notwithstanding, he was aware enough to recognize the man as a brilliant commander and strategist. Command was his passion. Spock, contrary to McCoy's apparent belief, had no intention of stealing his job.

"I am a logical man, Doctor," he said mutely. He simply desired this conversation to be over. Kirk wasn't even on this planet, and yet he was still the center of attention.

"It'll take more than logic to get us out of this."

"Perhaps, Doctor, but I know of no better way to begin. I am aware that command does have its fascinations, even under circumstances such as these, but I neither enjoy the idea of command, nor am I frightened of it. It simply exists. And I will do whatever logically needs to be done. Excuse me."

To reiterate: Spock does not want to be a captain, and furthermore, he realizes he would be terrible at it, especially if given a majority-human crew.

Case in point:

"Very bad, Mr. Spock," Scotty said from under a console. 

"In what way?"

"We've lost a great deal of fuel. We have no chance at all to make escape velocity. If we ever hope to make orbit, we'll have to lighten our load by at least 500 pounds."

"The weight of three grown men," Spock said.

McCoy looked up sharply. "Or the equivalent weight in equipment."

"Dr. McCoy, with very few exceptions, we use virtually every piece of equipment aboard this craft in attaining orbit. There is very little excess weight, except among the passengers."

"You mean three of us have to stay behind," Boma said.

"Unless the situation changes radically, yes."

"And who's to choose?" he asked.

Spock arched an eyebrow. "As the commanding officer, the choice will be mine."

"You wouldn't be interested in drawing lots?"

"A very quaint idea, Mr. Boma, though I do believe I am better qualified to make the selection than any random drawing of lots."

"Alright, Mr. Spock. Who?"

"...My choice will be a logical one, arrived at through logical means."

"Mr. Spock, life and death are seldom logical," McCoy said. 

"But attaining a desired goal always is, Doctor. Now, gentlemen, I suggest we move outside to make a further examination of the hull in the event we have overlooked any minor damage."

This was the second time he had attempted to move the crew outside and out of Mr. Scott's way. They, again, chose not to listen. Spock stepped out anyway, in the hopes that they would follow.

Vulcan hearing was acute. Even if it wasn't, he was right outside the door.

"If any minor damage was overlooked, it was when they put his head together," Boma muttered.

"Not his head, Mr. Boma. His heart," McCoy said. "His heart."

Latimer was killed. Stabbed in the back with a spear considerably larger than he was. Spock yanked it out of the human easily, the tip covered in warm red blood.

"Fulsom point," he said.

"Sir?"

"This. Remarkable resemblance to the Fulsom point, discovered 1925, old world calendar. New Mexico, North America. A bit more crude about the shaft, I believe. Not very efficient."

"Not very efficient?" Boma repeated. "Is that all you have to say?"

"Am I in error, Mr. Boma?"

"You, error? Impossible."

"Then what, Mr. Boma?"

"There's a man lying there dead, and you talk about stone spears. What about Latimer?!"

"My concern for the dead will not bring him back to life, Mr. Boma."

"Mr. Spock," Gaetano said. "In the interest of efficiency, I don't think we should leave his body here."

"Bringing him back to the ship should not interfere with our repair efforts. If you need assistance--"

"We'll do it."

"This should save us at least 50 pounds, Mr. Spock," McCoy said, carrying out a heavy metal box.

"Excellent, Doctor."

A yeoman followed with another heavy box. "We should be able to scrape up another 100 pounds."

"Which would still leave us at least 150 pounds overweight."

"I can't believe you're serious about leaving someone behind. Now, whatever it is out there--" McCoy started.

"It is more rational to sacrifice one life than six, Doctor."

"I'm not talking about rationality."

"You might be wise to start."

Mr. Boma reappeared. "Mr. Spock, we're ready."

"For what?" he asked.

Boma frowned. "The services for Latimer."

"Mr. Boma, we are working against time," he said, handing Scott a tool. His expertise was needed here.

"The man's dead. He deserves a decent burial. You're the captain. A few words--"

Spock had never been to a human funeral, but he knew enough of their culture to surmise that deeply emotional words would be expected. He had no clue what about though. The honor of a warrior's death? A recitation of Latimer's noteworthy professional accomplishments? He could not even speak of his katra, as it had been lost to the ether with no one there to absorb and store it. Now that he thought about it, he knew approximately nothing about human death rituals. "Doctor, perhaps you know the correct words for such an occasion." 

"Mr. Spock," the doctor said emphatically. "That's your place."

"My place is here. If you please, Doctor."

"Now, look, we may all die here. At least let us die like men, not machines!"

"By dealing with first things first, I hope to increase our chances of staying alive," Spock said calmly. McCoy's eye twitched. "Well, Mr. Scott?"

"If you'll give me a hand with this conduit..."

It was agreed by the entirety of the landing party that it would be most logical to attack the natives and scare them off before they themselves were attacked. Spock elected to ignore the majority opinion out of respect for the sanctity of life. He instead instigated a false attack with Gaetano and Boma, shooting to frighten only. He then left Gaetano on guard and returned to the shuttle with Boma.

He was confident that the natives would not bother them again.

Shortly thereafter, he, Boma, and McCoy went to check on Gaetano and found him missing, his phaser discarded at his post. Spock promptly handed it over to McCoy to deliver to Scott so that its energy could be converted into alternative fuel. He then cited a "scientific curiosity" to discover what had happened to Gaetano, and handed over his own phaser in turn, in case that he never returns. He then left, unarmed, to go search the mountains for Gaetano, leaving behind two confused humans.

He supposed that it could possibly be alleged that some of his command decisions were somewhat questionable.

He found Gaetano's body quickly and lifted it up onto his shoulders to carry back to the shuttle. The natives then began throwing giant spears at him. Spock quickened his pace. The natives chased him the entire way back to the shuttle, and Spock entered quietly and took his seat, pointedly ignoring the war cries of the ever-approaching natives whom he had... led here.

McCoy sat down across from him. "Well, Spock," he said. "They didn't stay frightened for very long, did they?"

"A most illogical reaction. We demonstrated our superior weapons. They should have fled."

"You mean they should have respected us?"

"Of course."

"Mr. Spock, respect is a rational process. Did it ever occur to you they might react emotionally, with anger?"

"Doctor, I am not responsible for their unpredictability."

"They were perfectly predictable! To anyone with feeling. You might as well admit it, Mr. Spock, your precious logic brought them down on us."

One of the giant creatures began repeatedly slamming a boulder down on the shuttle. The humans started screaming at him from all angles. Spock had Scotty use the ship's battery to electrify the outer hull. It took three rounds of electrocution before the assault on the ship stopped. Spock estimated that the creature would be back soon, after realizing they were not seriously harmed.

"Please check the aft compartment. See if there is anything else you can unload to lighten the ship," Spock instructed.

"Mr. Gaetano's body is back there," Boma said.

"He will of course have to be left behind," Spock said.

"Not without a burial," Boma said.

"I would not recommend it. The creatures will not be far away."

"Not without a burial, Spock."

"It would expose members of this crew to unnecessary peril."

"I'll take that chance," Boma said. "You see, Spock, I would insist upon a burial even if your body was back there."

"Mr. Boma!" McCoy snapped.

"Well, I'm sick and tired of this machine!"

"That's enough!" Scott said, standing.

"Gentlemen," Spock cut in. "Alright, Mr. Boma, you will have your burial. Provided the creatures will permit it."

The humans on the bridge were acting strange once he returned. They cornered him in at the science station.

"Oh, Mr. Spock!" Jim said, smiling eerily, but it was not the typical unsettling smile he usually graced Spock with. "There's something I don't understand about all of this, and maybe you can explain it to me-- logically, of course. When you jettisoned the fuel and you ignited it, you knew there was virtually no chance of it being seen, and yet you did it anyway. Now, that would seem to me to be an act of desperation."

"Quite correct, Captain."

"Now, we all know-- and I'm sure the doctor would agree with me-- that desperation is a highly emotional state of mind. How does your well-known logic explain that?"

"Quite simply, Captain. I examined the problem from all angles, and it was plainly hopeless. Logic informed me that under the circumstances, the only possible action would have to be one of desperation. Logical decision, logically arrived at."

"Uh-huh," Kirk said slowly. "I see. You mean you reasoned that it was time for an emotional outburst."

"Well, I... would never phrase it in that manner, but those are essentially the facts," he said, fighting down a blush of humiliation. Nyota and Yeoman Mears were smiling at him fondly, the doctor was outright grinning, but he did not feel that the captain's teasing would progress in a lighthearted manner.

Jim was sitting on the edge of his console, and he used the opportunity to drape an arm over Spock's shoulders, face intimately close as he spoke, despite the public nature of their discussion. "You mean you're not going to admit that for the first time in your life, you committed a purely human, emotional act?"

"No, sir."

The captain chuckled, eking out grins from his nearby crewmembers. "Mr. Spock," he said. "You're a stubborn man. Well, almost."

Spock arched an eyebrow and returned to his work, the crew laughing and grinning at the captain's joke.

Spock was called to the captain's ready room for a private meeting immediately after that shift ended.

"Alright," the captain said. "So I've been going over this mission report. I talked to the landing party too, or the ones that survived it, anyway. It seems you have trouble holding the crew's respect, Spock, why is that?"

"I do not know, sir."

"I do. And I think you do too, you just don't want to say it," he said. "You lost two good officers on what was supposed to be a routine mission. You almost got the whole landing party killed multiple times. It was a damn fluke that we saw that fuel streak, Spock, and you know it. We had already abandoned the search and started heading to Makus III, and you had to know that too. You practically handed the landing party to those creatures on a silver platter when you led them back to that shuttle. You ruined your chance for a controlled reentry when you used up the battery trying to fix your own mistake. You are the reason that all those people only had forty-five minutes left to live once you initiated takeoff, and you didn't even deign to tell them that beforehand. And then, on an emotional whim, you jettisoned and ignited the fuel and shortened those forty-five minutes down to six. We transported you out while the shuttle was burning up in atmosphere. There weren't even seconds to spare. On first report, I wasn't sure whether we had beamed up five living people or five dead bodies.

"You couldn't have predicted what happened to Latimer, I'll give you that, but according to reports, everyone and even you yourself knew that not attacking the creatures was a bad move. It was your shitty command decisions that got Gaetano killed. Furthermore, if I'm reading the situation right, the crew ignored almost half of your orders. You couldn't hold their respect, you couldn't hold their command. You couldn't see anything past your own damn logic. They specifically asked you to give them inspiration, to give them hope, and instead you damn near broke everyone's spirits. This crew is human, Spock, and they have human, emotional needs. Your logic got two good men killed and almost caused a mutiny. You know what all of this taken together tells me?"

"Negative, sir."

"It tells me you aren't cut out to be First Officer. You're demoted," he said. "Sulu will be First Officer now. You'll retain your rank and position as Chief Science Officer, but that's it. You should really stick to science, Spock. It's a more Vulcan pursuit anyway. And that's always been your dream, hasn't it? To be perfectly, purely Vulcan?"

Spock stood frozen in place. He had not been expecting that. Perhaps he should have. Perhaps he should be more on guard around the captain. Perhaps he had gotten too relaxed in his position.

Jim looked at him expectantly. "Dismissed, Commander."

"Mr. Spock! Come sit with us!" Chekov called.

Spock closed his eyes momentarily and instantly regretted his choice to enter the mess hall alone.

Chekov continued enthusiastically waving as Spock walked over. The table was occupied by Chekov, Sulu, McCoy, and Kirk. Sulu gave a nod in acknowledgement as he sat down, and Chekov continued to beam at him.

He was counted as one of the science ensigns with a perhaps unhealthy hero-worship for Spock.

"No seriously, Bones!" Kirk was saying. "Scotty's been avoiding me and I don't know why."

"Uh-huh. Sure," McCoy said.

"The other day, I went down to engineering and asked if there was anything I could do to help, and he pretty much told me to get lost."

"You are not an engineer."

"But I have the training! I always help Scotty out. Except the last three times, he hasn't let me. That's an entire month of avoidance, Bones," he said. "And he's stopped coming to our poker games, too, and so has Gaila."

"Maybe they're screwing," Sulu said. 

"That's no excuse for avoiding your friends, though. They can screw and play poker," Kirk said. 

"Perhaps Mr. Spock can join us for poker," Chekov piped up.

"I don't think poker is really Spock's style, Chekov," Kirk said.

"Nah, that's a great idea," McCoy said. "Bet once we teach it to him, he'll take to it like a fly to honey. Hobgoblin's got the ideal poker face. Ain't that right, Spock?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I confess I do not know to what you are referring."

McCoy smiled and clapped him on the back. "You'll be perfect."

"Nah, come on guys, I mean-- Isn't poker sort of a... human thing?" Kirk said.

The table fell silent.

"What do you mean, Jim?" McCoy asked.

Kirk prevaricated for a moment. "I mean, do we really want some Vulcan buzzkill at our game? No offense, Spock."

"There is no offense where none is taken," he replied automatically.

Chekov frowned as if deeply disturbed.

"Sorry, Jim, I'm not sure if I'm understandin' ya right," McCoy said, his voice taking on a strange cadence. "You're saying you don't want Spock to play poker with us because its a humans-only thing and he's Vulcan?"

"Half-Vulcan," Kirk corrected. "And no, that's not what I'm saying. And since when do you like Spock, Bones?"

Spock murmured an 'excuse me' and picked up his tray to leave, but McCoy's hand shot out to his arm and urged him back down gently. "No, no," he said. "We're talking about this."

Sulu looked distinctly like he wished he could leave too, but he knew enough to realize he was just as trapped as Spock.

"What is there to talk about? It's just poker, Bones, geez," Kirk said.

"You know," he drawled. "When Uhura called you xenophobic, I figured she was just saying shit. Gal's never liked you, after all, I assumed that was just because you make about the same first impression as a Denebian slime devil, but maybe not. Maybe there's more to it."

Kirk met his gaze evenly. "There isn't."

"I think you better explain what precisely you meant earlier."

"I don't need to explain myself to you. You know, Bones," he said. "You seem awfully invested in this."

McCoy drew himself up. "And so what if I am?"

"I know you've always been fascinated with xenobiology, but really Bones, the half-breed?"

And that was when McCoy hit him.

In the event that both the captain and the first officer are incapacitated, unavailable, or in the brig, the second officer becomes Acting Captain and the head of the largest department is temporarily promoted to first officer.

On a vessel of scientific exploration, the largest department is Sciences.

So Spock was First Officer again.

Scotty was wringing his hands down in the open space in the brig, Spock at his side as he'd insisted that he did not "know nothin' bout command, laddie, I'm so out of my element, can't you do this?"

"Mr. Scott," he said, as he'd found the man to become unduly distressed when addressed as Acting Captain. "I suggest you begin by collecting full reports from those who initiated the altercation."

"Right, right," he nodded. "Who started it?"

"Dr. McCoy landed the initial blow upon the captain's person."

Scotty's eyes widened. "Really?"

Spock nodded. "I believe the occupants of the adjacent cells will welcome the reprieve. It has been requested three times so far that McCoy be removed, as he has yet to cease ranting since his incarceration."

Scotty barked out a laugh. "Aye, that sounds like the good doctor. Let's see what he's been up to."

"--of all the stupid-ass, racist, damn fool, idiotic things I've ever heard in my godforsaken life! You think you know a person, ya know? Ya spend damn near four years connected at the hip, and then he goes and pulls this bullshit! 'Half-breed'?! What the ever-living fuck? I oughta strangle that sonofabitch!"

"Dr. McCoy," Spock said, with ever-lasting patience. "Please answer in clear and concise terms. Are you or are you not confessing to starting the altercation?"

"Hell yeah I started it! I decked Jim right in his smug little face! And I'd do it again too. Bastard had it coming the second he opened his goddamn mouth."

"...I think I'm a bit confused. What exactly did Jim say?"

"He called Spock a half-breed."

Scotty's mouth stretched into a long '0', his eyebrows flying up his forehead. "Why, I never! The cap'n said this?"

McCoy nodded gravely.

"Well!" Scott huffed. "Ye can hardly be faulted for hittin' him. Ye were clearly provoked, and that's exactly what I'm 'onna put in my report. It's just a shame that Mr. Spock here didn't beat ya to the punch. Woulda hurt a hell of a lot more."

Spock arched an eyebrow. "Vulcans follow a philosophy of pacifism, Mr. Scott."

"Ah ye, but you don't really, do ye, Mr. Spock?" He winked conspiratorially. Spock resisted the urge to shrink in on himself.

"Hey, yeah, Spock. You were the only one at that table who didn't get involved. Even Chekov accidentally knocked me in the head in the middle of all his wailing. Why is that?" McCoy asked.

"I estimate that Ensign Chekov was almost completely unaware of his surroundings and actions, as he was in the throes of severe emotional distress."

"No, I mean why didn't you get involved?"

"I did end the fight as expediently and gently as I knew how."

"Ya just neck-pinched all of us. That does not count as being involved. Security was on their way to stun us anyway, ya just expedited the process."

"That was exactly my intention, Doctor," he said. "As I have stated, Vulcans are pacifists."

The incident report was submitted, scathing and painting a fully black-and-white picture. Spock edited it heavily, correcting and modifying Commander's Scott's Standard until it was unrecognizable. Scotty asked to see it one last time before it was submitted.

But then he didn't submit it at all until two days later, and the report was completely changed and now littered with southern phrasings. It gave a vastly different portrayal of events that was much more in line with Scott's original version. It was completely biased, and subjective, and a breach of protocol to allow Dr. McCoy to revise a report of an incident he himself started. Spock gave Scott a strongly worded verbal reprimand. Scott replied with a shake of his head and an order to get out of Engineering.

Then four days later, Spock was commed to the captain's ready room.

Jim looked as tense and angry as Spock had ever seen him. "Pike is requesting a video call, and he wants you to sit in on it. So sit."

Spock obliged. Jim flicked the link on. Pike's face appeared, oddly stern and grim.

"I assume you know why I'm calling," he said.

"The mess hall incident," Jim said.

"Incident? Half your Alpha bridge crew got in a brawl in front of everyone! You have any idea how bad that is for your command, Jim?"

"I know, sir, believe me. I accept full responsibility and I swear to you, nothing like that will ever happen again."

"It says here that McCoy threw the first punch. Now, the report says he was provoked. I'd like to hear from you what exactly by."

"I... may have insinuated that he and Commander Spock were in a sexual relationship."

Now Pike just looked confused. "And your best friend punched you over that?"

"I shouldn't have said that in front of everybody. It was rude of me, and I know it isn't true. Bones was just acting funny about Spock that day, and I know they don't get along in the first place, but I made an off-color joke anyway and I guess I struck a nerve." He shrugged.

"Yeah? That must have been one hell of an 'off-color joke,' Kirk. Commander Scott wrote you up for hate speech."

"What?!"

"That was my reaction," Pike said. "What exactly did you say, kid? Be honest here. It won't be held against you. We just need to clear this up so we can put it all behind us."

"I-I don't remember exactly? I think I said something about him having low standards? He'd already been acting prickly and defensive, and I definitely called him out on that. I think it was just a bunch of little things. He just didn't like me implying he was sleeping with Spock in general. That was the main issue."

"Low standards?" Pike repeated.

"Yeah?"

"Spock?" Pike prompted. "What were his exact words?"

"There were many exchanges over the course of the conversation," he evaded. Jim rolled his eyes.

"Last sentence before he got punched. I know you know it," Pike said.

"It does not bear repeating, Admiral. It was inconsequential."

"Try me anyway."

Spock pursed his lips ever so slightly. "The captain said, 'I know you've always been fascinated with xenobiology, but really Bones, the half-breed?'"

Pike's expression didn't outwardly change, but somehow his demeanor did, and drastically. "Kirk, you said that?"

"Um, probably? Why?"

"You don't see an issue with that sentence?"

"It was rude, I guess."

"You guess," he said. "How was it rude? What part of that sentence was offensive?"

Kirk eyed him warily. "...All of it."

"And why?"

"Bones doesn't fuck aliens."

Pike leaned back in his chair, face pale. He stared at them for long, long moments.

"These are serious allegations," he said. "Hate speech and ethical misconduct. I'm going to come aboard the Enterprise to investigate. Consider your command under review."

They picked up Pike at the nearest starbase. He told them to act like he wasn't even there, to continue as they normally would.

He wandered around the bridge, keeping a shrewd eye on everything, before settling in next to the turbolift. Just watching.

McCoy was on the bridge because it was his habit to complain to the maximum amount of people possible, and medbay was apparently too empty for his tastes. His presence was predictable enough that the yeoman had started to bring him coffee along with the rest of the bridge crew. "A void, a star desert," he said, staring out at the viewscreen. "The words conjures up pictures of dunes, oases, mirages."

"Sunlight, palm trees," Kirk added. "We're 900 lightyears from that kind of desert, Bones."

Earth. They were 900 lightyears from Earth.

"The precise meaning of the word 'desert' is a waterless, barren wasteland. I fail to understand your romantic nostalia for such a place," Spock said.

Absolutely false. A significant proportion of Vulcan poetry was dedicated to romanticizing the desert. Spock would do or give almost anything to visit the Forge one last time.

"Doesn't surprise me, Spock," McCoy said. "I can't imagine a mirage ever disturbing those mathematically perfect brainwaves of yours."

Spock blinked. "Thank you, Doctor." He moved back to the science station, leaving Pike stifling a laugh and McCoy giving him a sly look.

They found a lone planet just sitting in the middle of the star desert. Then Sulu and Kirk simply disappeared off the bridge, and Pike refused to take command, telling them they could handle it themselves and he was here to observe only. Scotty was called up to the bridge and uneasily assumed command. A rescue party was assembled and sent to the surface.

Then they lost contact with the rescue party.

So they beamed up every single living being on this supposedly uninhabitable, impossible planet, and things were okay for about a minute. Then some being who appeared to be a Napoleonic-era Frenchman just poofed into existence on the bridge.

"Where are all your weapons, Captain? Don't you display your weapons?" the being asked, smiling.

Kirk stood from his chair. "Trelane," he said. 

"Don't fret, Captain. I'm only a bit upset with you. But this Mr. Spock you mentioned, the one responsible for that unseemly impudent act of taking you from me, which is he?"

"I am Spock," he said from the science station. Odd. He is not usually held at fault for rescuing people who did in fact desire to be rescued.

Trelane looked at him curiously, but continued to address the captain. "Surely not an officer. He isn't quite human, is he?"

Spock stood. "My father is from the planet Vulcan."

"And are its natives predatory?"

"Not generally, but there have been exceptions." V'tosh ka'tur.

"Really?" Trelane said, half-laughing. "You will see to his punishment?"

"On the contrary, I commend his actions," Kirk said.

"But I don't like him."

"Get off my ship."

"Oh, rot! You're all going back with me."

"We're not going anywhere."

"Nonsense! I have an absolutely enchanting sojourn on Gothos Planet for all of you, and you shan't spoil it for me. Anyway, the decor of my drawing room is much more appropriate--" every being on the bridge was suddenly in his drawing room "--and tasteful. Don't you agree?"

Sulu looked around. "...No."

Trelane bowed, because he always bowed to Sulu. "But so much more fitting, honorable sir."

DeSalle rushed him, and Trelane held up a finger and he froze on the spot.

"Oh, what primitive fury," he said. "Why, he's the very soul of sublime savagery."

"Trelane, let him go," Kirk said. Trelane shrugged, and Sulu caught DeSalle before he could collapse.

"We haven't even got our phasers," Sulu hissed.

"Yes, of course. I forget that I shouldn't frighten you too much. But I warn you. You can't provoke me again," Trelane said. "Come, everyone. Let's forget your bad manners. Let's be full of merry talk and sallies of wit. We have victuals to delight the palate and brave company to delight the mind. Come, doctor. Do partake."

Most of the bridge reluctantly took seats at the extravagant dining table.

"Ah, you've been quite derelict in your social duties, Captain. You haven't introduced me to the charming contingent of your crew."

Uhura and a yeoman were hanging back by a piano, distinctly unimpressed.

"This is General Trelane," Kirk said tiredly. 

"Retired," Trelane said. "But if you prefer, you may address me as the lonely squire of Gothos, dear ladies."

"Lieutenant Uhura of communications," Kirk gestured.

"Ah, a Nubian prize." He took her hand and kissed it. It was a miracle she didn't slap him. "Taken on one of your raids of conquest, no doubt, Captain?"

Spock might slap him.

Uhura yanked her hand away, but said nothing.

Trelane continued to comment on her to Kirk. "She has the melting eyes of the queen of Sheba, the same lovely coloring. And this!" He moved over to the yeoman now. "Is this the face that launched a thousand ships and burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Fair Helen, make me a mortal with a kiss."

He started to move toward her, and Kirk yanked him back by the elbow. "Yeoman Teresa Ross." He pulled him away from the women to hopefully prevent any further interaction. "I believe you have met our science officer, Mr. Spock."

Trelane looked at him disdainfully. "You do realize, don't you, that it's in deference to the captain that I brought you here?"

"Affirmative," Spock said.

"Well, I don't know if I like your tone. It's most challenging. Is that what you're doing, challenging me?"

You know, Spock hadn't been, but you have to take your opportunities as they come. "I object to you," he said. "I object to intellect without discipline. I object to power without constructive purpose."

Trelane looked delighted. "Oh, Mr. Spock, you do have one saving grace after all," he said. "You're ill-mannered. The human half of you, no doubt."

He grinned an walked away, forcing Ross to dance with him and Uhura to play the piano. Sulu and McCoy left the table to confer with their senior officers, just in time to see Trelane snap his fingers and turn Ross's uniform into a flowing pink gown. They had a brief conference on tactics and options, and then Jim turned around, put his hands on his hips, and spoke loudly.

"Don't be too upset by what you see, gentlemen. After all, his actions are those of an immature, unbalanced mind."

The music and dancing immediately stopped. "I overheard that remark, Captain. I'm afraid I'll have to dispense with you," Trelane said.

"You only heard part of it. I'm just getting started." Jim grinned, and yes, that was familiar. 

"Oh?"

"Yes." He sauntered over, getting up in Trelane's face. "I want you to leave my crewmen alone. I want you to leave my crewwomen alone too." He pulled Yeoman Ross away from Trelane and said in a false whisper, "You're not to dance with him. I don't like it."

"Does it actually make you angry, Captain?" Trelane asked, practically begging for attention, but Jim wouldn't look at him.

"You're not to accept his gifts either," he said, and pulled off Ross's silk gloves and the giant feather in her hair. She made a face, about to protest.

"Why, I do believe the dear captain is jealous of me!" Trelane crowed.

"I don't care what you believe! Just keep your hands off her."

"Oh, how curiously human. How wonderfully barbaric."

"I've had enough of your insulting attentions to her," he snapped.

"Of course you have. After all, that's the root of the matter, isn't it? You fight for the attention, the admiration, the possession of women."

"If it's fighting you want, then you've got it." He slapped him. 

"Are you challenging me to a duel?" He looked to be near tears of joy.

Kirk held his ground. "If you have the courage."

"Oh, this is better than I'd planned. I shall not shirk an affair of honor." He ran over to the fireplace and drew a box off the mantle. "A matched set just like the pair that slew your heroic Alexander Hamilton." He drew out a pistol and kept it pointed at Kirk's face as he clicked off the safety. The barrel of the gun was barely inches away, but Kirk didn't even look at it, choosing instead to give Trelane a steely glare. "And Captain, I never miss."

They stood across the room from each other, each with a pistol in hand.

"Oh wait," Trelane said. "As the one challenged, I claim the first shot."

"We shoot together," Kirk said.

"It's my game and my rules," he said. "But if you need to be persuaded..."

He turned his gun to the side and leveled it straight at Spock's head.

Kirk shrugged carelessly. "Alright. Go for it."

"Captain?" Spock asked, a spike of fear in his voice. Pike rose from his seat, every muscle tense. He stood dangerously close to Spock.

But Trelane just smiled and shot a bullet at the ceiling.

Spock breathed out shakily. Of course. Of course that was what the captain had been agreeing to. To let Trelane have the first shot. Whatever he may think of Spock aside, he was still a crewmember, and Kirk did not sacrifice crewmembers.

Pike seemed to visibly relax as well. That was fair as well; for all intents and purposes, he should have expected to see Kirk, his protege, be shot before his very eyes.

"Now, Captain, how do you have the expression? 'My fate is in your hands.'" Trelane closed his eyes and spread his arms wide.

Kirk cocked the gun and immediately shot the mirror. It shattered in an explosion of smoke and sparks, and Trelane started shrieking in panic.

Pike asked him about it later. Just to be sure. He didn't think-- But he was here to investigate, after all, and so he had to ask some tough questions.

"Earlier, with Trelane. When he pointed the gun at Spock. It sounded like you were agreeing to let him shoot him."

Kirk's eyebrows rose. "Yeah?"

"Were you?"

"No," he said, frowning. "No, of course not, Pike. I would never."

Pike nodded. "Alright. Yeah, of course, I know. I just had to ask, you know. Formalities." He shrugged.

Kirk's lips twitched. "Right. Formalities."

Amanda Grayson is banned from ever setting foot in 31 different religious institutes on Earth. She used to have a world map pinned up in their house, and every time she received a letter banning her from another church/temple/mosque, she would put a pushpin in the map for it, and she would laugh at it for the entire rest of the day.

Spock's existence was controversial even when it was purely hypothetical. It was controversial when he was conceived, and it caused a minor media flurry when he was born, and born healthy, at that. He was the first Vulcan-human hybrid to survive past the age of one. It was highly publicized, in everything from scientific journals to gossip rags to hard-hitting news networks talking about the political implications.

Spock was four when he received his first hatemail. It was mostly his mother and father who received such letters. Both of them were frequently called race-traitors and addressed primarily by those of their own species. They did not even come close to receiving equal amounts. Sarek was a high-profile politician. For as viscerally emotional as humans were, Amanda simply did not have as many enemies as Sarek.

Spock was seven the first time someone suggested suicide to him. He had just completed his kahs-wan and been marked with the ritual tattoo above his heart. A woman whom he did not know had spoken to him while it was being applied. She said he was an adult now, and able to understand logic, at least as far as was possible for a human. He should be able to comprehend that he was an abomination, that he was clearly not meant to exist. She explained that he posed a threat to Vulcan values, and without Surakian philosophy, Vulcans would be no more than savage beasts. She asked if he could understand, then, why his death would be to the betterment of society.

Spock had asked in turn why she did not simply kill him herself. After all, he was seven, weak and malnourished and dehydrated from his kahs-wan. Even at peak health, he was small for his age. He was a naturally frail and sickly child due to his hybrid blood. His strength was 2.1 times that of a human's, but still a fraction of that of a Vulcan's. He was weak and small and vulnerable, and she wanted him dead, so why did she not do something about it?

She had explained that killing went against Surakian philosophy, that it was beneath her to dirty her hands with his impure blood. But she explained further that killing should be acceptable for him, permitted he only acts against himself. There was one acceptable reason for suicide in Vulcan society: to have tainted a bond through abuse. She said that his situation was uniquely unprecedented, however, and that the shame of his existence was comparable to the shame of domestic abuse.

The man applying Spock's tattoo had finished then, and went to fetch his parents. The woman left before they arrived.

As he got older, more of the letters were addressed to him directly, pinging into his padd at random moments. They became more direct. The woman from the tattoo room was not the last to urge him to commit suicide. Some offered to do the job for him-- these were mostly from humans belonging to various hate groups. Spock alerted his father to those ones, and he had them summarily reported to the authorities.

"Father," he asked him one day. "Why did you choose to have me? You already had two children. Had you merely desired a third, it would have been a simple matter to adopt either a Vulcan or a human. Mother had three miscarriages before I was born. Twenty geneticists were involved in my conception. That seems to be an inordinate amount of trouble. Why did you insist on creating a h-hybrid?"

Sarek looked at him intently. "As you well know, I am the Vulcan ambassador to Earth. It is my duty to create a figurative bridge between our two planets and our two peoples. You are the ultimate symbol of our unity. A symbol of progress, and peace, and hope for the future. Your existence is eminently logical. Never forget that, my son."

"Vulcan memory is flawless, Father. I cannot forget."

Sarek arched an eyebrow. "Of course, Spock. My apologies, I must have forgotten."

Spock's brow furrowed, and he dismissed the entire exchange as nonsensical.

"Kirk here."

"Travers, Jim. We're waiting."

"Good, Commodore. We're on our way."

"Be sure to bring along your tactical people. I've got an interesting problem for them."

"We'll beam down immediately, Commodore. Kirk out."

"Captain, I wonder why he was so insistent that our tactical aides come down," Spock said. It had been requested more than once.

Kirk shrugged. "His colony is isolated, exposed, out on the edge of nowhere. He probably wants additional advice."

"Perhaps, Captain, but nevertheless I--"

"Spock," McCoy cut in. "Isn't it enough the commodore is famous for his hospitality? I, for one, could use a good nonreconstituted meal."

Spock looked at him serenely. "Doctor, you are a sensualist."

McCoy smiled at him, slow and... well, sensual. "You bet your pointed ears I am."

Kirk's breath caught in his throat and he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't compute anything beyond the fact that Spock and Bones were flirting. Right in front of him. It seemed innately wrong, so wrong, and for more reasons than just Spock's race. He felt like he had missed something precious, like some golden opportunity had been right in front of him and he had let it pass right by, but for the life of him, he couldn't imagine what. He just felt soul-crushing sadness and wrongness and a hard nub of angry betrayal at the center of it all.

He shook his head. He wasn't thinking right. Maybe he had some wires crossed somewhere. If Spock and Bones wanted to flirt, then apparently by Starfleet mandate, he wasn't even allowed to say anything about it. He shot a glance at Pike, wondering if he had caught that too, and then ordered everyone onto the transporter pad for immediate beam down.

Cestus III had been destroyed, burned to a hollow crisp, and all the messages they'd received had been faked.

And whoever had staged the attack was still around to drop shells on them. They found a survivor from the colony, half-dead, but seconds later O'Herlihy was killed by a falling shell. Beam back was impossible, because the Enterprise was being attacked up in orbit, and Kirk refused to let Sulu drop shields for even a second. He directed him through a space battle via comm link, and then they started getting interference and Kirk told Sulu to do literally anything he had to to protect the Enterprise.

That was when Kirk found the grenade launcher. Kelowitz gave a reasoned estimate where the invaders' base would be, and Kirk blew it the hell up.

Sulu commed that the aliens had used their transporters and were pulling away, and Kirk told him to lock on and not let them out of their sight. The landing party was beamed up, a search team of 30 paramedics were beamed down.

Kirk rested a hand on the medbay wall, looking down on the one survivor they'd found. Bones had already done what he needed to keep him from dying. Detail work such as fixing his face could be done later.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Kirk asked.

"Scanners reported a ship approaching-- we get them now and then. They're all welcome to use our facilities, you know that."

"Yes, I know."

"They came in at space normal speed, using our regular approach route, but... They knocked out our phaser batteries with their first salvo. From then on, we were helpless. We weren't expecting anything! Why should we?! We didn't have anything anyone would want!"

"Easy. Easy."

"They poured it on, like-- like phasers, only worse, whatever they were using... I tr-tried to signal them. We called up, tried to surrender. We had women and children. I told them that. I begged them! They didn't listen. They wouldn't let up for a moment."

"Lieutenant. The Enterprise received two messages-- ostensibly from Cestus III-- one for the Enterprise to go there and the other for myself and my tactical crew to beam down to the surface."

"They hit us a full day before you got there, Captain. No messages came from us." And then the man descended into hysterics.

"There something you wanna say, Spock?" Jim snapped.

"You mean to destroy the alien ship, Captain."

"Of course."

"I thought perhaps the 'hot pursuit' alone might be sufficient. Destruction might be unnecessary."

"The colony of Cestus III has been obliterated, Mr. Spock."

"The destruction of the alien vessel will not help that colony, Captain."

"If the aliens go unpunished, they'll be back, attacking other Federation installations."

"I merely suggest that a regard for sentient life--"

"Alien life. And there's no time for that." Uhura's head whipped around, ponytail flying over her shoulder. Kirk shot her a look, and she turned back to her station. He grabbed onto Spock and led him over to the science station, so they could have more privacy. "It's a matter of policy," he said quietly. "Out here, we're the only policemen around, and a crime has been committed. Zero tolerance. Do I make myself clear?"

"Very clear, Captain."

"Good." He slapped him on the shoulder and walked back to his chair.

"Okay. Okay, I can do this. I just have to beat up a Gorn--"

"You don't even know what a Gorn is."

"--and then the Metrons will let our ship go, and we'll make a note, and no one will ever fly by this system again. Piece of cake."

"Kirk," Pike said. "They said they're going to destroy the loser's ship. This is a dumb-ass idea."

He laughed, a bit hysterically. "You got a better one? I'm trying to prevent an invasion here, Pike."

"There does not seem to be much choice," Spock said.

And then Kirk simply vanished from the bridge, yet again, and the viewscreen showed him and what was apparently a Gorn on a dusty, mountainous planet.

"This is being broadcast throughout the entire ship," Sulu said. "Every screen."

Pike rested his hands against the back of the captain's chair. "Well, may as well enjoy the show."

Rand looked around hesitantly. "...Should I bring popcorn?"

"Sure, knock yourself out," Pike said amiably. The bridge crew settled into their seats, eyes focused on the screen.

The Gorn was a reptilian, lizard-like creature with multi-faceted eyes and long, crooked teeth. Its uniform (presumably it was a uniform) was a short and sparkly halter-top dress, paired with long, fingerless leather gloves.

For a while, they both just stared at each other dumbly.

Then the Gorn just. Walked away. And at first Jim thought maybe they would just ignore each other, but then the Gorn broke off a tree branch to use as a club, apparently. So Kirk hurried to go do the same. With a different tree, obviously. It'd be weird if they shared a tree.

The Gorn's stick was so much bigger and more impressive than Jim's stick that he just ended up tossing it away in shame. Then the fight began.

"Are they both drugged or something?" Sulu asked, munching his popcorn.

"It would not be logical for the Metrons to drugged them," Spock said.

"Yeah, but this is like, the lamest fight I've ever seen. Look how slow they're both moving. Ooh! Score one for the Gorn!"

"Don't cheer for the Gorn," Pike chided.

"But it is likely the Gorn will win," Chekov said. "Look at it. It is giant and made of muscle. Its skin looks thicker than Kirk's head."

"Guys. We are cheering for Kirk," Pike said.

McCoy snorted. "I ain't."

"Need I remind you all that the loser's ship will be destroyed?" he asked.

For a moment, there was silence. Whatever Kirk and the Gorn were doing on the screen, it looked a lot more like an aggressive make-out session than it did a battle. The Gorn had Kirk held tight against its chest, and he was clutching at its shoulders, the Gorn's face buried in his neck but not biting. Or at least, not hard enough to do real damage.

Spock wondered what sort of combat technique the captain was employing, as he had never seen its like before.

"Admiral Pike?" Chekov asked with wide eyes. "What happens if they simply do not fight?"

Pike squinted at the screen for a long, long moment. "...I'm pretty sure they're fighting."

Kirk writhed in the Gorn's grip, and Spock noted that he appeared to be smiling, when free enough of tension to do so. He threw his head back, and then suddenly slammed his hands against either side of the Gorn's head, making them hiss and fall back in agony.

Sensitive hearing, apparently. Kirk had made quite a fortuitous guess as to the ears' location, as they had no external structure to indicate where they were positioned.

And then Kirk ran away to fetch a very heavy rock and throw it at the Gorn, who grunted, but kept moving.

"We're gonna die," Sulu said.

"Hey, at least the fight's picking up speed now," Uhura said. "And we all knew Kirk would get us killed one day. It's sort of fitting that this is how it happened. He's on screen, the center of attention, getting his ass handed to him by a lizard alien in a sparkly dress."

"I like the dress," Rand said, stealing some of Uhura's popcorn. "It's cute. I think I saw something like that for sale in a starbase once. I would never wear something like that myself, of course, I--"

"Ooh! That had to hurt," Sulu said.

Chekov's eyes widened. "That is a very big boulder. The Gorn must be much stronger than a human. Or even a Vulcan."

"Kirk's gonna die, so hard," Sulu said. "Like wow. He doesn't even have a chance."

"Oh, look at him now. Really? Now's the best time to record your captain's log? The Gorn's hearing everything you're saying, you dumbass!" Uhura shouted at the screen.

"See, he just said it right there, 'I have no chance.' Even he knows he's gonna die," Sulu said.

"Are we sure communications are out?" Pike asked. "Maybe the Metrons lied. Why don't you keep trying, Uhura?"

"Ooh look, he is running away now," Chekov said.

"Good," Sulu said. "Look at that trap the Gorn's making. That is a big-ass boulder."

"I bet he falls off that cliff," Uhura said. McCoy just shook his head, looking away briefly.

"Wait, did he just win?"  Uhura asked. "Oh my god. Oh my god, no he didn't. What the fuck."

"A boulder was just dropped on them from at least fifty feet high, and they just walk away!" Sulu said. "Gorns are invincible."

Chekov pursed his lips, looking worried. Pike alternated from gripping the chair with white knuckles and drumming his fingers against it.

The Metrons contacted them to inform them that Kirk was losing and they should begin any end-of-life rituals they wished to enact in the time they had left, which they estimated to be very little. Then the Gorn commed Kirk and told him they were tired of chasing him around. They requested that he remain in one place and wait for them, and in return, they would give him a quick and merciful death.

Kirk ignored that and built a homemade cannon, basically, with diamonds as the fodder. He fired it right at the Gorn's face and knocked them down, defenseless. Then he picked up a sharp, pointed stone and stabbed it straight through their throat. Blood arced through the air and splattered across his face and clothes.

He stood up, triumphant, and addressed the invisible Metrons. "I won. I fulfilled your arrangement. Now release my ship."

"Well, I'll be damned," McCoy said, putting away his scanner. "There's not a scratch on him. Not even a bruise."

Kirk smirked and shrugged. "I'm just that good. Saving my ship, preventing invasion, and killing alien scum, all without breaking a sweat."

"...Alright," Pike said. "Well, I guess that's that. Submit me your report by 0000 tomorrow night."

Pike left, and Kirk grinned, turning to McCoy. "Well, Bones? Wanna knock back a couple drinks with me?"

He gave him a strange look. "Nah, not really."

"Uh... Okay, then. Cards? You beat me last time at poker, I'm still looking to win my credits back."

"No."

"Bones, come on," he said. "You aren't still mad at me, are you?"

"'Mad' isn't really the word, Jim. Captain."

"Look, it was a stupid thing to say, okay? I'm sorry."

McCoy faced him, hazel eyes burning. "Did you apologize to Spock?"

"What?" Kirk asked. "No. Why would I?"

McCoy flipped him off and looked about to walk away. Instead, he took a deep breath, speaking slowly, as if to a very dumb child. "You called him a half-breed. That is offensive. You owe him an apology."

Kirk snorted. "Alright. I'll play. Spock, I'm sorry."

"Apologies are unnecessary," Spock said.

"See, Bones? It doesn't matter. Spock doesn't care. Vulcans aren't like normal people, Bones, they don't have any feelings to be hurt. And besides, he's a grown-ass Starfleet officer. He doesn't need to be coddled in some special snowflake 'safe space' or whatever. Hostile aliens pointing guns in our faces don't care about our lives, much less anything else. If Spock can't handle everything not being perfectly PC, then he has no place in the 'Fleet."

"And what about friendly aliens, Captain? Did you forget that those exist? Are you even capable of respecting them?" He folded his arms. "You know what Starfleet's mission is, right? Peaceful, friendly first contacts? How can you expect to be able to do your job if you can't see past your own xenophobia?"

"I'm not xenophobic," he said, eyes hard.

"The Jim I know wouldn't have killed that Gorn. You had already won, kid. You didn't have to keep playing their game."

"I did what I had to do to save my ship," he said. "Bones. You're my best friend. We've known each other for four years almost. We helped each other out when we both had nothing. You're seriously going to ditch me over a little thing like this?"

"This ain't a little thing," he said. He walked away towards his office, then paused outside the door. "Spock! You coming?"

He raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless followed. The door closed behind him with a hiss. McCoy got out a bottle of bourbon and glasses. 

"You want any?" he asked.

Spock shook his head. "My father's race was spared the dubious benefits of alcohol."

"Yeah, I know, but there is such a thing as social drinking. Human custom," he said. "'Sides, you never know, you might like the taste. So. Do you want any?"

Spock eyed the substance curiously. "...Perhaps."

McCoy gave him a slight smile. "Good man." And he poured two glasses.

They drank in silent, amiable company for perhaps five minutes.

"So I want to apologize to you," McCoy said. "And before you say that's unnecessary, you're gonna hear me out. I haven't always treated you the greatest. I'll be honest Spock, I did not like you when this mission started."

Spock quirked up an eyebrow. "Are you saying that you 'like me' now? I was not aware that you cared, Doctor."

"You hush. I'm talking here," he said. "I've made some jabs at your race before, makin' fun of your Vulcan features and your logic and whatnot. That was out of line. And it took Jim callin' you a half-breed for me to realize it, which is fucked up in itself, but that's another matter. Point is, I'm sorry. I won't make fun of you no more."

Spock was silent, considering how best to phrase his next words.

"...If that is the case, then neither will I insult you anymore, Dr. McCoy."

He paled. "What?"

"I believe you heard me."

"Spock, that's weird. That's definitely not what I was going for here. I wasn't trying to coerce you or anything, I don't expect you to change the way you treat me at all."

"In truth, Dr. McCoy, I have always had a deep respect for your skill as a medical professional--"

"Stop! Stop. Never say something like that to me again," he said. He shuddered. "Okay. I see your point."

"I have a proposal," Spock said. "You can continue to insult me for being Vulcan, and I shall continue to insult your barbaric human practices."

McCoy nodded slowly. "I call your ears pointy, and you call me an illogical, emotional child. Sounds fair. Good," he said. "More bourbon?"

"Yes, please."

Silence reigned again, but this time it was less tense and more awkward. A fair trade-off, all things considered.

It was a long time before either of them spoke again.

"My dad was in the Humans First League," McCoy said.

Spock froze, subtly enough, unnoticeable if you weren't looking for it.

"He was always spouting bullshit. The way he talked, there was a right way and a wrong way of living your life. In his household, you had to act a certain way, think a certain way. And by god, he was my hero.

"Anyway, the HFL chapter in our area met every week. It rotated between a bunch of members' houses, and that meant sometimes it was at ours. My momma'd bake some sort of pastry to serve all the fellas-- there were women too, but not many, and not in charge. And they'd all sit around and drink beer, always beer. And they'd rant on and on about the travesty of aliens coming to Earth, they'd talk about how politicians had screwed them all over by allowing it. Talking 'bout how horrible it was that they could walk through town and see people in all sorts of colors they thought were wrong, non-human colors. Some of them were... Some of the stuff that was said in those meetings was terrifying, and I didn't realize it. It was just how'd I'd been raised, after all. I thought it was normal.

"But by god, nothing scared them more than the idea of interbreeding. They thought that was the first step to kicking humanity off of Earth. They honest-to-god believed the human race would be wiped out because of it.

"And then in my freshman year of high school, a Vulcan girl named T'Oseley moved to town and wound up in most of the same classes as me. I started talking to her because I was so damn curious to see how true it all was. Honestly? I was a racist douchebag at that point. I don't know why she put up with me for ten seconds, much less started hanging around with me. But knowing her... it opened my eyes, I guess. Made me a better person. Made me realize my dad had been wrong about some things, and made me start wondering what all else he was wrong about."

He chuckled. "It's stupid. But a Vulcan girl snarked at me one day and threw my whole world view out the window. She didn't know what she was doing, it wasn't her responsibility to teach me that shit, 'fix me' or whatever. 

"We fell in love, and I was never so scared in my entire life, Spock. I thought my dad would kill me if he found out, or kill her. I kept our relationship a secret as long as I could, but eventually my parents realized I was seeing someone. So I told them she was a human girl named Jocelyn Darnell. Darnishv T'Oseley. Slur it together in a southern accent, and it doesn't sound that different, just in case they overheard me on the comm or something. We were so, so careful. It sucked."

McCoy took a sip from his glass, and didn't seem to be about to say anything else. "What happened?" Spock asked.

"Oh, you're a nosy one, aren't ya?" he asked. "Suppose that's fair."

"If you are uncomfortable telling me, I do not require the information."

"Nah, it's fine," he said. "Soon as we graduated, we ran away together and got married in Vegas. Human-married, Vulcan-bonded, the whole thing. We scraped every penny we had together and rented the world's crappiest apartment. T'Oseley got some fancy office job, and I was off to med school. Four years later, we had little Joanna. Her Vulcan name is Darnishv T'Jo'ni. She's the cutest little thing ever, and the light of my life. The fourth successful Vulcan-human hybrid in existence. There are medical precedents set in place now. Doctors got it right with her on the first try, thank god. I owe your parents a hell of a lot, Spock.

"Anyway, little Jo's never once met her human grandparents. I told them about her, and haven't heard from them since."

"I grieve with thee," Spock said.

McCoy looked him in the eye. "Th'i-oxalra," he said. Spock exerted effort into suppressing his reaction at hearing this particular human speaking Vulcan. Fluently, and perfectly, albeit heavily accented.

"Anyway, somehow the matriarch of T'Oseley's clan heard about us, and she disowned. T'Oseley flipped her shit. Two weeks later, she was on a shuttle off the planet, bound straight for Gol. She's a kolinahr adept now. Took her three years. I researched the procedure. It's passed off as just a bunch of training and discipline, but from what I could learn, that's not it, is it?"

"It is not," Spock said. "Kolinahr is the complete and permanent purging of all vestigial emotions. It requires a healer to block off portions of the adepts' brains. As emotions can travel through bonds, it also requires all of them to be severed."

McCoy nodded. "And didn't that hurt like a bitch. She didn't give me any warning, either. Since it happened to both me and Joanna, we figured it was something in the apartment. They had the entire building evacuated for a week. None of the doctors could figure out what was wrong with us, 'cause Vulcans are tight-lipped as shit. We were both in the hospital for days, doped up high as kites on pain killers, 'fore someone finally thought to call in a mind healer.

"T'Oseley was petitioning to be readmitted to her clan, and she thought it would look better if she was raising her child and had her with her on Vulcan and was teaching her the Vulcan way and all that. She sued for custody, and won. I left Georgia, ditched my practice, and enlisted in Starfleet. Put my focus in xenobiology, 'cause there ain't enough doctors who do that, and especially not 'Fleet doctors. If I had my way, learning that shit would be required curriculum.

"And then I saw you on the bridge that day, spouting logic and arguing with my best friend about every damn thing, and I just kept remembering little Joanna clutching her head and screaming and crying 'cause her mother snapped their bond in half without a word. And I know that ain't fair of me, just 'cause you're Vulcan, to throw you in with the same group as her. I try not to be racist. I like to think I moved past that long ago, but the truth is, I'm still learning, and you got the short end of the stick because of that. So I'm sorry."

Spock regarded him dryly. "Apologies are unnecessary."

McCoy waved a hand at that, rolling his eyes.

"Doctor," he said. "There is no offense where none is taken. I do not care if you call me a 'hobgoblin.' I do not know why you perceive that to be insulting at all in the first place. Hobgoblins were Terran mythical creatures closely associated with the fae who had pointed--"

"I know what a hobgoblin is. I'm the only reason you're familiar with that word, Spock."

"Indeed. My point is, the majority of your insults are entirely ineffectual. I assure you, I have been called far worse."

McCoy looked stricken. "That doesn't excuse it at all, Spock. You're a man I respect and value as a friend. I don't wanna be one of the people degrading you day to day, no matter how little you think it is."

"I can see you are having an existential crisis over this and are refusing to listen to reason," he said. "Very well. I shall leave you to your emotions. You should know, however, that there is one primary difference between you and the captain that is worth quite a great deal. The captain believes he is not xenophobic and cannot be persuaded from this stance. You believe you are learning and actively make an effort to identify and remove xenophobic tendencies within yourself."

Spock stood from his chair and headed to the door, leaving behind a dumbstruck McCoy. "I ask that you never speak of this conversation again and return to normal as soon as is possible. I fear that further expressions of affection or respect on your part may cause the universe to implode."

McCoy snapped out of it, and his face immediately turned red with emotion. He let out a long string of indignant sputtering, and Spock slipped out of his office halfway through.

They got trapped in the gravity of a really, really big star, and slingshotting out of it had some unintended effects. Namely; half the crew were knocked on their asses, the power dropped off for a moment, and warp was out. Also, apparently they were in a low, tenuous orbit around Earth on solely impulse power.

But if a Federation starship is going to break down, then doing it right above Earth is absolutely ideal.

But Uhura couldn't find the normal Starfleet channel and they quickly determined that they had time-warped into the late 1960s. Then the US Air Force sent a plane after them armed with missiles and nukes.

Kirk pressed the intercom. "Scotty, initiate tractor beam. Lock onto that plane and hold it there."

"Captain, this type of aircraft might be too fragile to take our tractor beam," Spock said.

"Tractor beam on, sir. We have the target."

"Aircraft is breaking up, Captain," Spock announced.

"Transporter room," he said. "Can you lock onto the cockpit of that aircraft?"

And so that was how they acquired a 1960s pilot.

"--I never have believed in little green men," the pilot said, following Kirk out of the turbolift.

Spock had been conversing with Uhura at her station and so naturally, he was the first person on the bridge the pilot saw. He turned to face him and arched an eyebrow. "Neither have I," he said.

The human gaped, mouth drawing into an open frown and his brows furrowing together.

"Captain Christopher. This is my Chief Science Officer, Commander Spock."

Spock inclined his head in greeting. "Captain."

"Feel free to look around, Captain. But don't touch anything. I think you'll find it interesting," Kirk said, smug as ever.

"Interesting is a word and a half for it, Captain," Christopher said. He turned warily back to Spock, staring at him for long seconds.

Spock escorted Captain Christopher-- now out of his flight suit and dressed in honorary command gold-- into the captain's quarters.

"Captain's Log, supplemental." Christopher took the seat on the other side of Kirk's desk, and Spock stood at parade rest a few feet from his captain. "Engineering officer Scott informs warp engines damaged, but can be made functional and reenergized."

"Computed and recorded, dear," the computer said in a low, sultry voice. Christopher frowned, and Kirk avoided his eyes. "Computer, you will not address me in that manner. Compute."

"Computed, dear."

"Mr. Spock," he said. "I ordered this computer and its interlinking systems repaired."

"I have investigated it, Captain. To correct the fault will require an overhaul of the entire computer system and a minimum of three weeks at a starbase." Similar to how fixing the strawberry goo replicator issue would require every single replicator on the ship be removed and replaced, which would take at least four weeks at a starbase. Until then, they were all still eating neon pink slop for every meal every day. McCoy had informed them that it was surprisingly healthy, so none of them would be suffering nutrient deficiency any time soon, but that also meant that getting it fixed couldn't be declared a medical emergency.

Kirk sighed. "I wouldn't mind so much if it didn't get so... affectionate."

"It also has an unfortunate tendency to giggle," Spock said.

Christopher laughed. "I take it that a lady computer is not routine?"

"We had put it in to Cygnet XIV for general maintenance and repair. Cygnet XIV is a matriarchal society where femininity is the norm. They seemed to feel that the ship's computer system lacked a personality. They gave it one. The computer has been attempting to seduce the captain ever since."

Christopher laughed again. "Well! You people certainly have interesting problems. I'd love to stay around and see how your girlfriend works out, but--"

Kirk folded his hands on his desk. "I'm afraid you'll have to. We can't send you back."

"Can't?" he asked, frowning deeply. "But Spock here told me that your transporter can beam down an object, even from orbit this high."

"It's not the transporter. It's you. You know what the future looks like. If anybody else finds out, they could change the course of it and destroy it."

"Well, then my disappearance would change something too."

Kirk looked to Spock, and he shook his head. "I have run a computer check on all historical tapes. They show no record of any relevant contribution by John Christopher."

The man's jaw twitched. He leaned over the desk, face pleading. "Look, Captain, I don't buy all of your time-accident story. Now, the experts can figure out who you are, what you are. It's my duty to report what I've seen. Well, what would you do?"

"I'd... report. If I could. We can't take the risk."

"I don't want to know about risks! I have a wife, two children. What about them?"

"I'm sorry."

Spock walked into medbay where the captain and doctor were both conversing with Christopher, a gaping void of separating them. The 1960s man had attempted to escape the ship, even getting as far as having stolen a phaser and arrived in the transporter room to level it at the technician on duty and order that he beam him down. Then Kirk had walked in and swiftly rendered him unconscious.

"--Yeah. I see physical training is required in your service too," Christopher was saying.

Spock stopped before the biobed. "Crude methods, but effective."

"What does he mean by that?" Christopher snapped.

McCoy just smiled slightly. "It was just a joke, Captain."

Kirk shot him a questioning look at that. "Vulcans don't have a sense of humor, Bones."

The doctor's expression immediately soured, and he opened his mouth to retort, but Kirk was already moving on. "You said you had some additional information, Mr. Spock?"

"I made an error in my computations."

"Oh? This could be a historic occasion," McCoy said.

"One you will certainly never see again, Doctor," Spock said, arching an eyebrow. "I find that we must return Captain Christopher to Earth after all."

"Why? You said I made no relative contribution," he pointed out.

"A poor choice of words on my part. I neglected in my initial run-through to correlate the possible contributions by offspring. I find, after running a cross-check on that factor, that your son-- Colonel Sean Jeffrey Christopher-- headed, or will head, the first successful Earth-Saturn probe, which is a rather significant--"

"Wait a minute. I don't have a son."

McCoy's entire countenance seemed positively teasing. "You mean yet."

The captain and Lieutenant Sulu beamed down to Air Force base to erase the transmission recordings and photographs taken from Christopher's plane. McCoy was hovering anxiously in the transporter room, pacing and wringing his hands. "How long have they been down there?"

"15 minutes, 28 seconds," Spock said.

"Well, shouldn't they be coming up?"

"It is a fact, Doctor, that prowling by stealth is more time-consuming than a direct approach. In our case, a--"

"Shouldn't you be working on your time-warp calculations?"

Spock turned to him placidly. "I am."

He resumed standing at parade rest in the transporter room, and McCoy went through a series of facial expressions.

"Alright, Spock, I think it's time you and I had a little talk," Pike said. He had called Spock into his assigned quarters-- a large, opulent ambassadorial suite. "Why don't you sit down on that couch over there and I'll make you some tea and me some coffee?"

"Thank you, Admiral," Spock said, doing as instructed. Pike shook his head.

"Call me Chris, Spock. After all we've been through together, I think you've earned it."

"Very well."

Pike took a seat across from him, setting their drinks on the coffee table. Spock sipped his tea politely.

"So," Pike said. "Jim called you a half-breed."

"Affirmative," he said. "Adm-- Chris, may I speak freely?"

"Of course."

"I fail to see why such emphasis has been placed on a single exchange. It was a mere word, Chris. And it was hardly the first time I have heard it. Frankly, I feel this investigation to be a waste of Starfleet's time and resources. I do not know what you hope to accomplish here."

"Starfleet does not tolerate xenophobia. That's sort of the opposite of our goal here," he said. "You know what happens when the man at the top is a bigot?"

"No, sir."

"Two months ago, there was a sudden 67% increase in requests for transfers off-ship. I don't know what the hell happened on shore leave, but it pissed a lot of people off. That was also when Kirk started writing people up for insubordination for the first time. But strangely enough, none of the other senior officers seemed to have a problem with their subordinates disrespecting them or refusing to follow orders. It was just Kirk."

"We looked into that incident, and the results were inconclusive."

"Really? Because I read the reports. Ensign Q'rtlkol legitimately did not think the captain would even want to work with him on a professional level because he was in an inter-species relationship. Don't play dumb with me, Spock. Something happened. I wanna know what."

Spock fiddled with his teacup. "During shore leave, I engaged in sexual relations with Lieutenant O'oxinatrininan, who is Andorian. The captain became aware of this, and seemed to be acutely displeased by it. He made an inspection of the science department shortly thereafter, and concluded it with several comments which I believe the surrounding crewmembers found to be... in poor taste."

"In poor taste how? What did he say?"

"He made a somewhat crude allusion to my sexual habits and then stated that they were inappropriate."

"Is Lieutenant O'oxtrinan--"

"O'oxinatrininan."

"Right, that. Are they your subordinate?"

"Negative, sir. He is a command-track communications officer."

"He's not even in your department? Why would Kirk say it's inappropriate then?"

"I believe, sir, that the implication was it was inappropriate for members of different species to relate in such a way."

PIke leaned back. "This just doesn't sound like Jim. He's a good kid."

"As you say, sir."

"No, Spock, I need you to be honest with me," he say. "You swear you aren't making this up?"

"Vulcans do not lie, sir," he said. "In addition, I have nothing to gain from this."

"Yeah, you do. You could gain a captaincy and command of the Enterprise if I have to remove Kirk."

"You seem to be laboring under a false assumption. I am no longer First Officer. I was demoted 1.73 months ago."

"What?" Pike asked. "Why?"

"Captain Kirk cited my poor command capabilities."

"But you're a great commander. I trained you myself, I taught you everything you know. I had my pick of the entire Academy, and I chose you to be my First for a reason," Pike said. "The hell did he mean, 'poor command capabilities'?"

"He stated that I could not hold the crew's respect in any significant capacity. He said that I relied too heavily on logic and neglected emotional motivations. It was his firm belief that I should 'stick to science.'"

"So basically, he said that you were too Vulcan for command." Pike folded his arms. "And you didn't think to mention this?"

"This was following a particularly disastrous mission, Chris. My orders caused the deaths of two crewmembers and alienated the rest. I nearly got the entire landing party killed. The captain's logic was sound."

The admiral closed his eyes briefly, then shook his head. "How long has this sort of thing been going on, Spock?"

"Please clarify."

"The little remarks. The degradations. How long has Kirk been insulting you over your heritage?"

"I have never known the captain to interact with me in any other way, sir."

Pike cursed. "I swear he wasn't like this. I usually have a good read on people. He seemed perfectly fine at the Academy. He passed his psych exam for enlistment, I don't understand how they could have missed this... We don't give starships to people we can't trust around aliens. A captain is a diplomat, the face of the Federation. He needs to be a force for peace and unity and acceptance of all forms of life, not the type of guy who calls his subordinates half-breeds. God." Pike shook his head. "I'll have to ask around with the rest of the crew, especially the non-humans, see how much damage he's done. The Enterprise has already lost twenty-three excellent officers who chose to transfer off the flagship to less prestigious postings, I'll have to go through the records and see what reasons they listed, if any... It's a miracle the 'Fleet doesn't have a harassment suit on its hands."

He seemed to pause at his own words then, and looked at Spock curiously. "Why didn't you ever report him for misconduct? You say you've never known him to act any other way. We're almost a full year into the mission, Spock."

"Christopher," Spock said. "This is not the first time in my life I have faced xenophobia. Quite frankly, I do not have the time nor desire to report every single remark in poor taste that people make towards me. Furthermore, as a Vulcan, I have no feelings on the matter and am thus completely unaffected."

"Really," Pike said dryly. "Now, is that true, or is that just something you tell yourself?"

"Admiral, I am Vulcan. I have dedicated my life to following the Vulcan way. My relative humanity has no impact on this, and does not in any way make me less Vulcan. I ask that you please accept and respect this."

Pike's eyebrows shot up. "Oh. Oh, shit, that didn't... I didn't mean to imply--"

"I am aware. If you please, I have a time-sensitive experiment in Lab 7 that requires my attention."

"Of course, of course," Pike said, standing. "Um, I should have enough evidence collected within two weeks to declare Kirk unfit for duty. If anything happens between now and then, you come to me, okay?"

Spock nodded in acquiescence. Pike was still looking at him like he didn't quite believe he was fine. Spock elected to ignore this and left to attend to his unimportant experiment.

The first time Spock was assaulted for the sake of being assaulted, he was fourteen.

Stonn and two of his associates overcame him on his way home from school. The desert road from Shi'Kahr to Sarek's estate was completely deserted otherwise. They followed him out of town for no other purpose than cornering him alone in a secluded area.

Spock had stalwartly ignored their presence for 11.2 minutes.

Stonn eventually grew bored of this and called out to him. "Are you not going to even greet us now? You are behaving most rudely, son of Sarek."

"This is your 517th attempt to elicit an emotional response from me. The past 387 attempts have been consistently unsuccessful. It is illogical for you to continue. I have sufficiently demonstrated that I am unaffected by any words or actions you might take, and thus, you should stop," he said, quickening his pace.

"There are other motivations at play. Perhaps we merely wish to see you demonstrate your human weakness and inferiority, you viltah scum."

And then two of those much stronger, bigger Vulcans rushed him and grabbed him by the arms to hold him in place. Spock struggled vainly, squirming and kicking out his legs, lashing at the air.

Stonn took his sweet time walking over to stand in front of him. He looked him over with eyes completely expressionless and cold as snow.

The first hit slammed into Spock with the force of a bullet.

The Andorian Embassy in San Francisco is a true feat of engineering, a masterwork of architecture. It is surrounded by its own atmospheric bubble to keep snow on its grounds and a layer of ice frosted over everything. It's practically a palace of blue and white, polished marble and sparkling diamonds everywhere. The main lobby is an enormous room, decadent in the extreme, a high arching ceiling of blue-tinted duroglass covered all over with a spiderweb of white markings-- designed to imitate to ancient ice caves of their homeworld.

In Spock's second year as an Academy instructor, there was a terrorist attack staged against it, initiated by the Humans First League. They broadcasted it live on the holonet before anyone could stop them, and Spock and almost everyone he knew watched it happen in mute horror. They came in in their white gowns and their white masks of smiling faces, carrying old-fashioned rifles-- a purely human weapon, with only one setting: kill.

And they shot 57 Andorians. 35 died on the spot, 7 more of fatal injuries that couldn't be treated and prolonged their pain. As they were leaving, they threw a homemade grenade into the center of the building, causing a minor collapse.

Spock cancelled his classes for the next three days-- the only time he had done so-- and went to volunteer aid.

Vulcans and Andorians have a rocky and mostly hostile history with each other. You could not find two more dissimilar species. Andorians embraced passion, were highly emotional and somewhat warlike. In addition, the embassy was kept at less than half of human-normal temperatures. Spock was not unduly surprised to find himself the only Vulcan volunteer there. There were not many Vulcans that left their homeworld in the first place.

He was bundled up thoroughly for the cold and, he believes, mistaken for a human at first. The majority of the volunteers were human, seeming to feel the need to apologize without words for the actions of others, quite illogically. Spock was assigned to clearing rubble in the hopes of finding and rescuing additional survivors. While he was not fully Vulcan, he still used his increased strength for everything it was worth.

That was the first time he met Leonard McCoy.

The man was wearing medical scrubs and up to his elbows in blue blood, shouting and barking orders at the other paramedics, whom he seemed to believe were all incompetent morons.

"And just why exactly did you expect to find human-like bones, idiot?! Andorians are partially insectoid! What, did you think those antennae were for fucking decoration?" he shouted. "This osteo is fucking useless. Human-set equipment for Andorian triage, whose bright idea... What are you waiting for? Go get me those tools!"

Spock continued to clear the rubble, moving away heavy slabs of marble and duroglass that no full-human could lift on their own.

He did not see Leonard again until he spoke with Kirk at the Kobayashi Maru hearing, right after Vulcan had sent out their final distress call. He inadvertently overheard their exchange.

"Who is that pointy-eared bastard?" Kirk asked.

"I don't know," McCoy had said. "But I like him."

As it turned out, Kirk's command did not last for two more final weeks, because eight days later, he was accused of murder.

Technically, he was charged with perjury and culpable negligence. And technically, it was the ship's computer that filed the report. But Spock had hand-delivered it to the starbase commodore (on Kirk's own orders), so he had no doubt the captain was holding him personally responsible.

On the plus side, they were finally getting some repairs done. Scotty was very optimistic that soon, constantly eating The Pink would be a thing of the past.

The inquiry led to a general court martial, making Kirk the first Starfleet captain in history to stand trial. Commodore Stone had all but begged him to accept a permanent ground assignment and let him bury it, sweep it under the rug. He didn't want to see the good name of the service be smeared.

Kirk had demanded a trial.

The tribunal was composed of four old 'Fleet windbags and the prosecution was one of his exes.

Areel Shaw stood and spoke confidently. "I call Mr. Spock."

He rose and handed over a computer chip, then sat in the testifying chair.

"Spock, serial number S-179-276-SP. Service rank-- Lieutenant Commander. Position-- Chief Science Officer. Current assignment-- USS Enterprise. Commendations-- Vulcan Scientific Legion of Honor. Awards of valor-- twice decorated by Starfleet Command," the computer said monotonously.

"Mr. Spock, as a scientist, you know a great deal about computers, don't you?" Shaw asked.

"I know all about them," he said. From a human, that might seem an exaggeration, but with Spock, it was not.

"It is possible for a computer to malfunction, is it not?"

"Affirmative."

"Do you know of any malfunction which has caused an inaccuracy in the Enterprise computer?"

It still flirted with the captain, but it performed all its other functions efficiently and correctly. "Negative."

"That answer is based on your mechanical survey of the Enterprise computer ordered by the defendant prior to this trial, is it not?"

"Affirmative."

Shaw nodded. "Now the stardate--"

She called the personnel officer and that testimony was even more damning, as she detailed precisely how Kirk had pretty much ruined Finney's career. Kirk's lawyer didn't ask either of them a single question. Then Shaw called McCoy to the stand.

"Service rank-- Lieutenant Commander. Position-- Chief Medical Officer. Current assignment-- USS Enterprise. Commendations-- Legion of Honor. Awards of Valor-- decorated by Starfleet surgeons."

Shaw paced the room slowly, predatory. "Doctor, you are on the record an expert in psychology, especially space psychology-- patterns which develop in the close quarters of a ship during long voyages in deep space."

"I know something about it," he said evasively.

"You have just heard testimony of you own personnel officer, that it was an action of then-Cadet Kirk which placed an unerasable blot on the record of then-Lieutenant Finney. Psychologically, Doctor, is it possible that Lieutenant Finney blamed Kirk for the incident?"

"It's possible."

"He could have hated Kirk down through the years, blamed him for being passed over for promotion, blamed him for never being given a command of his own, correct?"

"He could have."

"Now let us hypothesize, Doctor. Is it normal for a person to return affection for hatred?"

"No."

"Do we not tend to at first resent and then actively dislike the person who hates us?"

"Well... yeah."

"Then I ask you, is it not possible that Captain Kirk became aware of Lieutenant Commander Finney's hatred toward him and perhaps, even involuntarily, began to reciprocate?"

McCoy sighed and closed his eyes for a second. "Yes. Yes, it's possible."

"James T. Kirk, serial number SC-937-0176-CEC. Service rank-- Captain. Position-- starship command. Current assignment-- USS Enterprise. Commendations-- Grand Kite Order of Tactics, Class of Excellence, Frenterus Ribbon of Commendation, Classes First--"

Shaw stood up abruptly. "The prosecution concedes the inestimable record of Captain Kirk."

"Well, now," Kirk's lawyer said. "I wouldn't want to slow the wheels of progress, but on the other hand, I wouldn't want those wheels to run over my client either."

"Continue," Commodore Stone said.

"Awards of valor-- Medal of Honor, Silver Palm with Cluster, Starfleet citation for conspicuous gallantry, Carragite Order of Heroism--"

"Stop," the lawyer said. "I think that's enough. We don't want this to take all day. The guy saved Earth, after all, he's got enough medals to fill a whole closet. Now Captain, despite what these machines indicate, was there indeed a red alert before you jettisoned the pod?"

"Yes sir, there was."

"Please tell us about it."

"Firstly, I am at a loss to explain the errors in the extract from the computer log. We were in an ion storm. Everyone in this court knows the dangers involved. I was in command. The decisions were mine, no one else's. Charges of malice have been raised. There was no malice. Lieutenant Commander Finney was a member of my crew, and that's exactly the way he was treated. It has been suggested that I panicked on the bridge and jettisoned the ion pod prematurely. That is not true. You have heard some of the details of my record. This was not my first crisis. It was one of many. During it, I did what my experience and training required me to do. I took the proper steps in the proper order. I did exactly what had to be done exactly when it should have been done."

"You did the right thing. But would you do it again?"

"Given the same circumstances, I would do the same thing without hesitation. The steps I took in the order I took them were absolutely necessary to save my ship. And nothing is more important than my ship."

"Your witness, Miss Shaw." The lawyers swapped places.

"Captain Kirk, you alluded to an extensive service record and plentiful experience. But is it not true that you are only ten months into your captaincy?"

"That is true."

"Is it not also true that you were promoted to command straight out of the Academy, thus bypassing the years of experience and familiarity with the inner workings of a starship that every other 'Fleet captain has?"

"That's true."

"Earlier you said that Lieutenant Commander Finney was a member of your crew and that's exactly how he was treated. How do you treat your crew, Captain Kirk?"

"With all of the respect and dignity that they deserve. They know their jobs well, Miss Shaw. I have the best crew in the 'Fleet."

"'All the respect and dignity they deserve,'" she repeated. "Captain Kirk. Are you not currently under investigation by Starfleet Command on charges of severe ethical misconduct and, I believe, xenophobic hate speech?"

"That's a misunderstanding between me and a friend. The situation is being severely misrepresented. It also has nothing to do with this."

"Please answer the question, Captain Kirk."

He pursed his lips. "I am."

"The prosecution does not wish to dishonor this man," Shaw said. "But facts are facts. I must invite the attention of the court and Captain James Kirk to this visual extract from the Enterprise compute log. Playback."

And then she showed a video where, clear as day, Kirk jettisoned the pod while on yellow alert.

"So you're just sitting here, alone in a conference room, playing chess against the computer?" Leonard asked.

"I believe that is quite clear," Spock said.

"You know there's a starbase down there, right? With new things to do and places to see and people to meet? You don't have to stay on the ship constantly. Or have you forgotten that you're not actually a part of its machinery?"

"I've just won my fourth game."

"But that's impossible."

"Observe for yourself," he said. "Rook to king's pawn 4."

"Bishop half level right," the computer said.

Spock moved the computer's piece, and then his own. "Checkmate," he said. "Mechanically, the computer is flawless. Therefore, logically, its report of the captain's guilt is infallible. However, the captain requested that I examine it, and I tested the program bank. I programmed it myself for chess some months ago. The best I should have been able to attain was a draw."

"So Jim might not be guilty. He might not be a murderer."

"Indeed," Spock said. He pressed the intercom button. "Transporter room, stand by. We shall be beaming down."

Spock and McCoy rushed into the courtroom at the last minute in their dress blues and quickly confered with Jim and his lawyer.

Then the lawyer gave a long, impassioned, rambling speech about human rights. He then called the Enterprise's computer to the stand, claiming Jim had a right to face his accuser directly.

Only there are some logistical problems in essentially calling the ship's entire computer network system to the stand, so what actually happened was they packed up and moved the courtroom onto the Enterprise.

And then, in the weirdest twist that any murder trial had ever taken, the lawyer alleged that the victim was not even dead. And then, by god, they proved it. Finney had been lurking on the ship this whole time. Kirk took a phaser and went to search for him himself, ordering everyone else to stay on the bridge. This was his business, with his old Academy professor, and he was going to settle it himself.

Then Finney started speaking ominously over the ship's intercom as a threatening, disembodied voice.

"Hello, Captain," he said. "Nothing to say, Captain?"

"I'm glad you're alive."

"You mean you're relieved because you think your career is saved. Well, you're wrong."

"Ben!" he called out. "Ben, it's not too late. We can help you."

"Like you helped me all along, kept me down, robbed me of my own command? I'm a good officer. As good as you. I've watched you for years. The great Captain Kirk."

The blunt tip of a phaser pressed into his back.

"They told you to do it to me," Finney continued. "You all conspired against me. You ruined me. But you won't do it anymore."

He reached around across Kirk's body and took the phaser out of his hand, tossing it into the distance. Kirk turned around slowly to face him.

"Put the phaser down, Ben."

"Oh, I wouldn't kill you, Captain. Your own death would mean too little to you, but your ship..."

"What about my ship?"

"It's dead. I've killed it. I tapped out your primary energy circuits."

Kirk told him his daughter was on board, and Finney promptly tried to kill him. Kirk beat the shit out of him, and Finney told him precisely where the sabotage had been done while lying on the floor of engineering and sobbing. Kirk fixed it. They didn't crash.

Finney was definitely going to jail, though. And Kirk had ripped another shirt.

He apparently also thought it was appropriate to kiss the prosecuting lawyer goodbye while on the bridge, which was massively unprofessional, and also said questionable things about the captain's standards for his paramours, as she had been trying to get him dishonorably discharged less than a day ago.

Pike took him aside privately and then made an announcement to the ship. Captain Kirk had been demoted to an ensign. He exchanged his gold captain's stripes for a plain red engineering shirt. He moved out of the luxuriously large captain's quarters to a smaller room that he would be sharing with three other ensigns.

Sulu was promoted, moved into the captain's quarters, and chose Spock as his First Officer. Lieutenant Reyes took over his position as the Alpha shift helmsman. Pike stayed on at Starbase 11 and caught a shuttle back to Earth from there.

Spock didn't see or hear of Kirk for three days.

The replicators were fixed, and everyone was taking advantage of it. Spock had seen an ensign earlier in the day replicate a piece of rhubarb pie and then cry at it. He, personally, was having kleetanta with forati sauce, ameelah, and a glass of green t'mara omi. Nyota and Gaila were similarly indulging in long-missed dishes from their native cultures.

"God, look at Kirk," Nyota said. "I almost feel bad for him."

The ensign was sitting, perhaps foolishly, at a table in the center of the mess that had been not-so-subtly deserted. It seemed that the entire ship was uncomfortable around him now. Most of the junior officers had yet to stop thinking of him as a superior, and other ensigns were always stiffly formal and professional around him-- those that hadn't become disillusioned with him earlier, anyway. Only a select few knew the reason for his demotion, but rumors and theories were flying everywhere. Most of them, Spock believed, were worse than the truth.

"Hey," McCoy said gruffly, appearing at their table out of nowhere. "Mind if I sit here?"

"Don't you wanna go sit with Kirk?" Nyota asked.

"We aren't really on speaking terms anymore," he said. He gestured again to an open seat, and Nyota nodded her consent.

"So why aren't you talking to Kirk anymore?" Gaila asked, ever one for bluntness. Nyota kicked her under the table. "Ow! What was that for?"

"It's fine," Leonard said. "I'm not talking to Jim anymore because he woke up one day and decided to turn into a douchebag."

"One day?" Nyota asked.

"Yeah?" Leonard said. "Why?"

"Oh, uh-- nothing. I've just always thought Kirk was a douchebag."

"Yeah, but now he's a racist douchebag."

"...That's not new either."

Leonard froze. He set down his fork carefully. "Did he say something to you?"

"No," Nyota said. "Not me."

Leonard looked around the table, first at Spock and then at Gaila. "That fight in the mess hall," he said slowly. "I was under the impression that it was the first time he'd ever said something like that."

For a while, everyone studiously avoided the implied question. Then, of course, Gaila just blurted things out.

"One time he called me by my slave name," she said. "I invited him to play cards. He said an Orion whore like me is only good for a fuck. And then he called me my slave name."

Leonard paled. He swallowed. "When was this?"

She shrugged. "Just a few weeks into our mission, I think."

"It was 2.25 months post takeoff," Spock said.

"And then there was his sparring match with Spock," Nyota said under her breath.

Spock could visibly see Leonard remembering that incident, remembering Spock's injuries, and categorizing the whole thing in new light. "You know," he said. "I always had faith in Jim. He made me really believe in him. He's the only reason I accepted a starship posting instead of just sticking around at Starfleet Medical. I genuinely thought he would be a good captain one day. I would see him studying like his life depended on it, taking everything so damn seriously and loving every second of it, and I thought to myself, 'Now there's a man I could serve under.' I really believed..." He shook his head. "I just can't believe I was so wrong about him. I don't know how I missed that."

"It was certainly no personal judgmental failing on your part, Doctor," Spock said. "He was somehow even able to fool trained psychologists."

Leonard shook his head again. "He's dangerous. God knows where his head's at right now. The man should have been dismissed from the service entirely. Pike's always had a soft spot for him... But he didn't know the full story, did he? If he knew about the assault--"

"There was no assault," Spock said. "We were in a mutually agreed upon sparring match that got out of hand. The c-- Kirk had been under severe strain and stress. As a human, he is not trained in matters of emotional control. Some lapses can be expected."

"Dear god, Spock, please tell me you don't expect that kind of shit," Leonard said. "Chrissakes. The man treated you like a living punching bag because he knew he could get away with it."

"There are often other motivations at play in such attacks."

"Yeah," Leonard said. "And none of them good." He glanced down at Spock's tray. "Vulcan port? Thought you didn't drink, Spock."

He arched an eyebrow. "I have been known to make an exception." As expected, it earned him one of Leonard's slow, sly smiles. "In addition, while being second only to Romulan ale, it is not nearly as intoxicating to a Vulcanoid as it is to most other species. Its effect on me is mild at best."

"A shame," Leonard said, still smirking. "I would love to see you drunk. Maybe you'd stutter or something; prove you aren't fully perfect once and for all."

Spock tilted his chin imperiously. "I shall do my very best to never give you evidence to that hypothesis. I do, after all, have an image to maintain."

Leonard barked out a laugh, and the women joined in, grinning and Nyota resting a hand on his shoulder.

Leonard began to associate more regularly with Spock. He now often took his meals with him. They already associated regularly and frequently through work-- medicine was a form of science, after all, and there was significant overlap when it came to the field of biomedicine. Leonard sometimes fought Spock for treasured lab space. He had once formally challenged Spock to a duel for use of Lab 14.

"You and me, two phasers, the bridge, high noon, Spock. Winner gets the lab, loser gets endlessly mocked. Be there or be square."

"There is no 'high noon' on a starship, Doctor."

"1200, smartass. I'm gonna shoot you right in your little green ass. And then I'll reorganize all your lab equipment and steal the centrifuge."

Spock had glared at him. Sulu had forced them to share the lab, and efficiency had decreased 47% that shift. It seemed that many of the ensigns were only pretending to work and were, in truth, listening to their superiors snipe at each other. They seemed to believe it was a show, and that it would one day have a conclusive winner, somehow. There was apparently a betting pool.

Spock was dismayed to find that more people were betting in Leonard's favor. He resolved to increase his sass by at least 10%.

And Leonard really did steal his centrifuge, his favorite centrifuge.

So the next day Spock ordered all the medical tricorders be recalibrated in the name of maintenance.

Similarly petty instances continued on for a solid week until Sulu was forced to awkwardly approach them and ask that they please stop. They had apparently inspired a bitter feud and rivalry between their two departments. The competition was good for efficiency, but the prank war was getting out of hand.

Sometimes, though, Spock did not see Leonard for days and the two of them interacted solely by sending academic journals back and forth accompanied by scathing reviews and debates. Spock suddenly found that he knew Leonard's opinion on just about every researchable topic under the sun. He found the arrangement pleasing, but inadequate.

He had no intention of ever stating such, but of course it happened anyway, quite by accident.

Leonard pounded on the door to his quarters one day, completely ignoring the buzzer. Spock pressed the button for admission, and he barged in, padd in hand.

"By all means, do come in, Doctor."

"And just what the hell do you call this?!" he asked, waving the padd around.

Spock cocked his head curiously. "Is it perhaps a padd?"

Leonard seemed genuinely too incensed to respond.

"Really, Doctor, it astounds me that you have been able to live this long, let alone practice medicine, with your skills of observation being such as they are."

"Your peer review of Dr. Flanif's clinical trial on replicating transplantable hearts!" he shouted, throwing the padd down on his desk.

Spock raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"The replicator can't even make a decent steak! God knows what it'd pump out if it tried to make a living, beating heart! Oh god, I can just imagine the horrors."

"You misunderstand the technological aspect involved. I assure you, it is perfectly safe."

"Oh, like how the transporter is perfectly safe? One time it split Jim into good and evil halves, Spock! That shouldn't even be scientifically possible!"

"It is illogical to allow your fear of technology to cloud your judgment about medical advances."

"Illogical?! I'll tell you what's illogical! Jumping on the bandwagon the second someone comes up with some half-baked theory just because it makes your scientific mind go all tingly with excitement! I realize it sounds nice on paper, Spock, but think about what this really means. With a completely synthetic organ, the risks of rejection alone are staggering."

"A risk that can be circumvented by using the patient's own scans and tissue samples as a template."

"Ooh yeah, that's just a brilliant idea. Take scans of a diseased heart and some of its diseased tissue and use it to make an exact, diseased copy of it. Then you put the patient through entirely unnecessary invasive surgery to swap out one crap heart for another."

"Dr. McCoy, obviously the damaged or unhealthy aspects of the heart would not be included in the replicator programming, and I assure you, no doctor is so foolish as to use damaged tissue for their sample. The cells would be taken from a healthy area of the heart."

McCoy looked at him searchingly. "And I suppose you really do think it's that simple, don't you?" He shook his head. "Spock, even you have to admit that replicator technology is shoddy at best. What happens when they put all these hearts in people and then they just quit out of the blue one day? Nevermind the myriad complications you can get from trying to artificial cells to reproduce. You may as well inject all these people with every cancer known to man."

"The chances of any of that happening have been accounted for, and the doctors responsible are working on it. Need I remind you, Doctor, that all the test subjects are freely consenting and aware of the risks? And you cannot deny the innumerable advantages of giving patients specialty-made organs tailored exactly to suit them. You speak of the chances of rejection based on their synthetic nature, but conversely, those chances are significantly dropped by the very nature of the experiment. In addition, it is not as if this is an entirely new concept in medicine. Dermal regenerators work by replicating the patient's own--"

"Dammit, Spock, I am actually a doctor, you know? I know how a goddamn regen works," he said. "And while we're on the topic! Those things are not infallible. You seem to think science is magic, Spock, but it actually isn't. Regens frequently produce dead cells, are rejected entirely, sometimes cause infection or mutated growths, and they don't even work on at least three known sentient species."

"I will admit that the technology is not perfect--"

"Ha!"

"--but I still support the premise and experimentation on it. Decades or even mere years from now, organ transplants from one living patient to another may be a brutal, barbaric remnant of the past, much like your frankly alarming collection of antique surgical tools."

"I keep those for a reason, Spock. I need to be reminded how far we've come, and how far we have to go. I'm not saying I'm against the theory, I'm just saying that they shouldn't go putting hearts in these people so soon when last week I tried to replicate a cup of coffee and it came out purple and hissin' and bubblin' like a witch's cauldron."

"Doctor, not all replicators are of the same qual-- What are you doing?"

"Pouring drinks," McCoy said. "Got a feeling that it's gonna take at least fifteen minutes for me to explain to you that I am a medical doctor and you are not, and then you're probably gonna spend about twenty minutes rantin' on about computer programming in replicator technology. Point is, this is gonna be a long-ass debate, so I'm settling in."

"I see," Spock said, narrowing his eyes. "You are aware that I am not actually James Kirk, are you not?"

"What?"

"I am aware that you and he frequently engaged in this manner while still in association."

"You think Jim and I sat around talkin' science and drinking sweet tea? Which is what this is, by the way. It's like pulling teeth, getting you to drink, so I'm not gonna subject you to a synthehol, which is yet another example of why the replicator is a failure of modern technology," he said. "Wait. The hell does this have to do with Jim?"

Spock will deny to his dying day that he shifted uncomfortably. "Shortly after you ended your association with Mr. Kirk, you began to increase the time that you spent with me. I am aware that humans experience a phenomenon called 'loneliness' when deprived of contact with others. It was therefore logical for you to seek out replacement company. For reasons that escape me, you seem to have selected me to fill this need. However, I must point out that it is unhealthy to truly pretend I am one who I am not, my status as a substitute in your eyes aside."

McCoy's eyebrows shot up his forehead, and he set the two glasses back down on the counter. He folded his arms and leaned back, seemingly content to stare at Spock. The inspection lasted nearly a full minute before he spoke.

"Spock, you got some issues," he said. "You seriously think I only hang out with you as a stand-in for Jim? And you were okay with that?"

Spock determined that the safest course was to say nothing.

McCoy cursed under his breath and looked around the quarters. He sighed. "Can't believe you're making me say this. Fuckin' insecure hobgoblin. I like you, okay? You are actually my friend. I know! I'm just as shocked by it as you are! Ugh. I... You're a good person in your own right and I like you for you."

His face was bright red now and he was refusing to look at Spock.

Spock pondered this. Truthfully, he had not entertained the idea. It had occurred to him as a possibility, of course, but he had always dismissed it as a self-indulgent notion, completely unsupported by the evidence. McCoy was brash and emotional and unbelievably strong-willed, and he had enjoyed Kirk's company due to him sharing those characteristics. Spock, in comparison, must seem quite dull.

McCoy glared and shoved a glass of tea into his hands. "Shut up. I could hear you thinking from all the way over there. Now, are we gonna have ourselves a debate or not?" he asked. "And drink your tea."

Spock took a sip obligingly and immediately made a face.

"Oh no you don't. Don't you dare insult good ol' fashioned southern sweet tea, Spock, I swear to god--"

"It is far too sweet to be palatable."

"That's the whole fucking point! Of course it's sweet! It is sweet tea, Spock-- what, you think you can just drink unsweetened, like some sort of a--"

"That is how I normally prepare my tea, yes."

"That's because Vulcan tea is drank by monks who think pleasure is a vice or something and you can tell. First time T'Oseley served me some, I thought something crawled into the tea kettle and died there."

"It is true that the smell and taste of theris-masu is frequently compared to that of death, but--"

"But what? You have no need for joy in your life? You enjoy suffering or something?"

"Doctor, that is false. Your human palate is simply too unsophisticated to appreciate the complexities of--"

"Oh, I'll show you some complexities," he muttered.

"I am curious as to how, as your southern sugar water clearly has none."

McCoy gasped in outrage, standing up abruptly and launching into a long, impassioned spiel. Spock hid a slight smile by taking a sip of tea.

It truly was disgusting to him.

The starship Archon had gone missing around Beta III over a hundred years ago. The Enterprise was finally sent to investigate.

Lieutenant Mallory and Lieutenant O'Neil beamed down as a scouting party, but only Mallory beamed back up, and in a... peculiar mental state.

A much larger reconnaissance party was sent down, the humans in typical eighteenth century men's wear and Spock in a long black cloak and a hood drawn to cover his ears and eyebrows. At first, it seemed like a perfectly normal, quaint, mannerly planet. Then the clock struck six, and everyone appeared to lose all sense of reason. They tore off their clothes, screeching, attacking one another, throwing rocks in shop windows. A woman leapt onto a crewmember and appeared to be attempting to maul him, her legs a vice around his waist. Townspeople were throwing things everywhere, shrieking with laughter, fights and revelry and sex being enacted by every one.

Sulu hurried the landing party into the nearest building and slammed the door shut behind them all.

Three old men stood in the room, looking at them like they were the strangest things they'd ever seen.

Sulu was able to successfully bullshit them into believing they were from the valley but then the old men started saying something about them being too young to be excused from the festival, which was apparently illegal. But they were, nonetheless, given rooms to stay in.

Which went well until the morning, when the clock struck six o'clock and the whole town froze. They slowly came to their senses, and immediately started going about their day, resuming whatever act had been interrupted by the festival last night.

The landing party crept downstairs and the inn keeper was holding his daughter, who was sobbing loudly and in hysterics, her clothes torn and in disarray. Spock helped McCoy lead her away to a sitting room, the doctor hushing and speaking soothingly as he administered a sedative. Soon everyone else filtered into the sitting room as well, following the inn keeper.

"She's asleep," McCoy said.

"Are you..." the man paused and walked over to Sulu, choosing to address their clear leader instead. "Are you Archons?"

"...Maybe we are. Maybe we aren't. What about it?"

"It was said more would follow. If you are indeed--"

"We must hide them quickly. The lawgivers," another old man said.

"We can take care of ourselves," Sulu said.

Then the lawgivers came, killed a man, and ordered them all into something they called the 'absorption chambers,' which did not sound good.

They were taken to what was apparently the waiting room for the absorption chambers, which was basically an open dungeon type thing, complete with stone walls and torches for light.

Sulu shook Spock's shoulders. "Wake up, man," he hissed.

Spock blinked awake and looked around, instantly alert. "Where is Dr. McCoy?"

"Dunno. He was gone when I woke up. So are O'Neil and Rodriguez."

The remaining two other members of the landing came awake, complaining of headaches from the hypersonic device that had been used to knock them all out. And then the door to the dungeon opened and two lawgivers escorted in McCoy and O'Neil.

"Hello, friend," McCoy said, smiling brightly at Spock. "We were told to wait here."

"Doctor, do you recognize me?" Spock asked.

"We all know one another in Landru," he assured him.

"Like Mallory," Sulu whispered.

"Dr. McCoy, this is very urgent. Do you remember who you are?"

"You speak very strangely, friend. Are you from away?"

"You must remember," Spock said harshly.

McCoy looked up to the ceiling, dopey and contented. "Ask Landru. He remembers. He knows and he watches. You are strange. Are you not of the body?"

Then the lawgivers took Sulu and there was nothing that could be done about it.

"Dr. McCoy, what will happen to him?" Spock asked.

Leonard was still acting rapturous and not quite there. "He goes to joy, peace, and tranquility. He goes to meet Landru. Happiness is to all of us blessed by Landru."

Spock melded with him.

It was not Leonard McCoy. That much he knew. The human's mind was being viscerally suppressed. He could still feel it there, under the surface, yearning to break free. Light and wit and conviction and the morals of a truly good man. All of it dampened and dark as if put under a shroud. It felt innately, intensely wrong, but Spock could do nothing to free him of it.

It was sickening.

"Well?"

"Impossible," Spock said. "He's under extremely powerful control."

The lawgivers came for him next and he went without protest. They had already been shown the futility of resistance.

Spock was strapped to a wall and exposed to the effects of a strange device.

"Have no fear, friend. The effect is harmless. My name is Marplon. I was too late to save your first two friends. They have been absorbed. Beware of them."

The restraints suddenly snapped off of his wrists.

"What about the captain?" he asked.

"He is unharmed, unchanged. I am of the underground movement against Landru. We have been awaiting your return."

"We are not Archons, Marplon."

"Whatever you may call yourselves, you are in fulfillment of prophecy. We ask your help. Here are your weapons." He produced two phasers from the folds of his robe, and Spock quickly deposited them in his own cloak. "Behave as you saw the captain behave."

The lawgivers reappeared in the room to collect Spock, and he forced a small smile. "Joy be with you. Peace and contentment."

McCoy quickly realized they were not 'of the body' and attacked Sulu, calling for the lawgivers to come help. And they did come, and Sulu took care of one and Spock grabbed the other and punched him so hard he went flying.

Sulu's eyebrows shot up. "Not your usual style," he said. "Getting sick of the neck pinch, Spock?"

Spock said nothing, merely began removing the lawgiver's robes to effect for himself a disguise.

They overthrew Landru (who turned out to be a tyrannical computer and not a person), which stretched the Prime Directive to the max without technically breaking it.

Spock took a somewhat perverse pleasure in debating with 'Landru' until it determined the only logical course of action was self-destruction.

The populace of Beta III and all who had been absorbed reverted to normal, including Dr. McCoy. Spock had never been quite so relieved and almost... happy, to see the human scowl.

He attached himself firmly to the doctor's side until M'Benga was finished looking him over. Due to McCoy's position as the CMO, the entire ship was ultimately in his care, and it was therefore eminently logical for Spock to assure himself of his wellbeing. Indeed, it could even be considered one of his duties as First Officer.

"Didn't realize that getting sucked into a computerized space cult meant I got my own Vulcan shadow," McCoy said.

"Well, Doctor, as you put it, mere hours ago, you were in a 'computerized space cult.' It is logical to make sure you have retained what little intelligence you possessed beforehand."

"Why, how incredibly kind of you, Spock. Say, while I've got you here in sickbay, you're overdue for your physical and I want to update you for thirteen vaccinations."

In the end, after nearly seven months of active duty and away missions, it was a simple engineering accident that did it.

A live wire swung loose from the ceiling and clipped Kirk on the shoulder, resulting in a minor burn.

Scotty was there when it happened. He put in a call to the bridge.

Sulu had Kirk escorted to medbay while accompanied by six guards. He gave the con to Uhura and took Spock with him to help with the questioning.

Kirk sat on the biobed, shirtless and scowling, flanked by three guards on each side. McCoy was pale-faced taking readings from his tricorder. He kept glancing up at him every few seconds, looking at his eyes, his face, his torn-up shoulder that showed wires and circuitry underneath.

"Well?" Sulu asked. "What is it?"

"Android," McCoy muttered. "Goddamn. This is the most advanced tech I've ever seen. There are synthetic organs in place, he's got a steady pulse, his mental faculties are all there. He-- it has all of Kirk's knowledge. And the skin! It's soft, it's warm, it reacts to touch just like you'd expect, it has all the right differences in coloration... It's fucking perfect. An exact duplicate."

Sulu turned to the machine. "Who created you?"

All that earned him was a smirk and half an eye-roll.

"Where did you come from?"

No response.

"How long have you been on the Enterprise?"

The android folded his arms.

"It is likely the switch was made while Kirk still retained his position as captain. It is far more beneficial for someone to have an android replace the captain of the Federation flagship than an ensign. Whoever did this likely wanted to put themselves in a position of power," Spock said.

Sulu nodded. "Put him in the brig under heavy guard. Reroute our course to Starbase 17 and call a department heads meeting for 1100. I'm going to go inform the admiralty."

"Seriously?" Uhura asked. "Kirk's been an android this whole time?"

"We don't know how long," McCoy said.

"Oh, it goes back to the Academy at least. I mean, you were his roommate. No real human could get by on that little sleep. Right?"

Spock saw McCoy reevaluate his entire life before his eyes.

"No. No!" he said. "He had physicals. He's had three physicals since the mission started, and I handled all of them personally. He checked out as a perfectly normal human every time. His last one was just over two months ago, it has to be at least after that."

"But did you not say that the android had synthetic organs and body processes in place?" Spock asked. "You examined it in medbay. Aside from its inability to pass a metal detection test, was there anything unusual?"

"...No," McCoy said. "God. I befriended a robot."

"Wait," Hendorff said. "I mean, we've seen this guy bleed before. I've seen this guy bleed before. At the very least, he was a human the day before enlistment. When was the last time he got injured?"

"The transporter incident," McCoy said. "When he got split into good and evil halves. He tried to rape Rand, and she fought him off, scratched his face."

"That was just two months into our mission," Uhura said. "So sometime in the eight months since then, someone got Kirk alone and replaced him with an android."

McCoy shook his head. "After this whole mess is over, I'm calling the whole ship into medbay one by one to inflict minor injuries on them. Just in case. Who knows how many other androids are on board?" His eyes narrowed and he looked around shiftily. "There could be an android in this very room."

Everyone went silent after that.

"Alright," Sulu sighed, standing up. "We'll get the whole crew tested before we do anything else. Man. The admirals are gonna love this one."

Spock presented the back of his hand, and McCoy drew the laser scalpel along it in a small, clean line. Green blood sprung forward and filled the cut, running out of one end.

"Thank god," McCoy said, breathing an obvious sigh of relief. "I am never calling you a robot again."

He swiped the blood away and ran a dermal regenerator over the cut, healing it instantly. He gave Spock a small smile. "Alright, now get on outta here. I've got 145 crewmembers left to test."

McCoy and M'Benga had tested each other first, out of mutual suspicion and to ensure that neither of them were an android hiding other androids among the crew. It took 3.79 hours to determine that 'Kirk' was the only android aboard.

They reconvened the department heads meeting.

"Okay. So we have ten months of mission debriefs to go through. How do we want to do this? Back to front or front to back?" Sulu asked.

"Well, first off, we can eliminate everything from after he was demoted," Uhura said. "Whoever these people were who did this, they wanted someone important. They wanted the captain of the Enterprise."

"Okay," Sulu said. "So that takes off the last... two weeks. We can discount it happening on Beta III, at least."

"Coulda happened at Starbase 11," McCoy said. "Easily. He was alone a lot there."

"Aye," Scotty said. "Starbases get all types. Ships comin' and goin' constantly. It'd be real easy for one of them to just... steal a man."

"Okay," Sulu said. "We'll check there first. What else?"

"When we went to the 1960s, he was alone at the airbase while the military interrogated him, right?" Hendorff asked.

Scotty snorted. "US military never that kind o' tech. Even we don't have that kind o' tech."

"Metrons coulda done it," McCoy said. "If we ever met a race technologically superior to us, it was them. We were ants to them, and they sure as hell didn't like us. Thought we were too violent and warlike. Maybe they never actually gave us Kirk back after the fight with the Gorn. Maybe they gave us an android instead, programmed to run things their way."

"If Ensign Kirk is with the Metrons, then unfortunately, he will simply have to stay with them. We cannot go back into their system. And it would be remarkably unwise to do anything that might provoke action against us," Spock said.

"Next mission is... Gothos," Sulu read off a padd. "Shit. Trelane. He wanted to keep us there forever, didn't he? And he had the power to do it, too."

"Yeah, but his parents wouldn't let him," McCoy said.

Sulu nodded. "True. Alright, the mission before that was Murasaki 312, which Kirk didn't go on. And before that was just shore leave."

"Shore leave on the planet with the living human replicas?" Uhura pointed out.

"Those were made of vegetable matter. In addition, it is a theme park. I find it doubtful that the proprietors were carrying out a devious scheme," Spock said.

"You clearly need to watch more horror movies," McCoy said.

"Before that we had the altercation with the Romulans at the Neutral Zone. Didn't even leave the ship," Sulu said. "Alright, and then there was... the Kodos thing."

"Both he and Miss Karidian were alone with Kirk on multiple occasions," Spock said. "However, I doubt that either had the intelligence necessary to create such a device. They were evil and mass murderers, but neither were technological geniuses."

"Then there was the incident with the First Federation ship. Balok? Freaky glowing cube? Kirk made up some shit about corbomite?" Sulu said. "On the ship the whole time, though. Next up was that thing at the penal colony with the mind control device."

"Coulda been," McCoy said. "People were smart and crazy enough to invent a mind control device. Replacing a human with a machine would probably have been a piece of cake for them."

"I'll write that down as a maybe," Sulu said. "So far we've got two. Alright, before that was the Earth 2.0 place with the child plague victims."

"Hey, Kirk got the plague there! He must have been human then!" McCoy said.

"Or he simply faked it, which would have been an extremely simple matter," Spock said.

McCoy folded his arms. "Well, the little plague kids certainly didn't do this."

"There was the mission where we picked up Roger Korby from that ice planet, Exo III."

"That was a milk run," McCoy said dismissively.

"Perhaps we should put it on the list nevertheless," Spock said. "The mission was somewhat suspicious."

Sulu shrugged and typed it in.

The investigation was thorough and lasted 3.1 weeks. They found him on Exo III.

Sulu, Spock, Dr. McCoy, and a security escort beamed down to the previous coordinates Dr. Korby had given them. 

"Stay close," Sulu said. "Phasers on heavy stun. Remember, just 'cause it looks like a person doesn't mean it is."

They crept forward along the rock ledge, an enormous canyon yawning out to the side. Somewhere in the distance, a pebble fell, and Sulu held up a hand for them all to stop.

"Who goes there?" he called out.

Silence.

"This is Captain Sulu of the USS Enterprise. We come in peace. We represent the United Federation of Planets," he said. "And we're looking for Jim Kirk."

Someone stepped forward out of the shadows. It was Kirk, blue eyes scared and haunted and just slightly hopeful. His hair was a mess, clearly cut haphazardly with a razor, and he had just the beginnings of a beard. He was wearing a green and purple jumpsuit, dirty and ragged and torn in places.

"Bones?" he croaked.

Leonard didn't react, staying firmly in place, eyes sweeping over him with a harsh gaze. "We have no way of knowing until we test him."

"Test me?"

"To know if you're really him or if you're an android," Sulu said. "It's a simple test. We just need to make you bleed."

"Make me bleed?" he asked, backing up like a skittish animal.

"A simple cut. A few drops of blood and we'll beam you right back up to the Enterprise," McCoy promised. "You wanna see the Enterprise again, don't you, Jim?"

"Yeah." He nodded, stepping forward and holding out his hand. "Yeah, of course. You have no idea."

McCoy opened up his medkit and pulled out the laser scalpel, making a small cut on the back of Kirk's hand. Red blood bubbled up.

"Well, I'll be," McCoy said. "It really is you."

"This isn't a dream," Kirk said, staring at his hand. "You guys really came for me."

Sulu flipped open his comm. "Scotty, six to beam up."