Title: Another Country Beckons
Codes: K/S; TOS: PG; New
Author: Rae Trail
Feedback: raetrail@yahoo.ca
Summary: A starship captain discovers that his subconscious mind has been busily courting while his conscious mind runs his ship.
Disclaimer: Paramount and Viacom, and probably other entities, own all things Star Trek. I consider this fair use; this is fan fiction, and no money will be made from it.
Warnings: Unqualified acceptance of sexual relationships between men.
Notes: Various excerpts from “The Waste Land” by T.S. Elliot.
Another Country Beckons
by Rae Trail
Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
**
‘The blackness of space is not absolute.’ Gazing out Spock’s porthole after completing his nightly reports and stopping by his First’s cabin hoping for a chess game. Musing. Kirk knew space wasn’t black, of course. Knew many of the phenomena that stretched, distorted, and lighted that blackness. But the thought had come from somewhere. From a thought exercise he’d heard of as a child, perhaps? He shivered involuntarily.
“Spock, do you recall an old paradox, about why space is black and not a blaze of light?”
The vulcan did not look up from his terminals. Four screens working just now, Kirk noted. Plus two palm padds glowing on the extended work surface beside him. “It was never regarded as a paradox on Vulcan, Jim. I believe you are referring to Olbers’ Paradox. Humans wondered why, if space was infinite with an infinite number of stars in all directions, the sky was not brilliantly lighted. Of course, upon discovery of the finite value of the speed of light and the nature of the distances involved, the pervasiveness of dark matter and other obstacles to transmission, coupled with the fact that average light from a given direction diminishes in inverse proportion to the distance of the source from the observer, humans realized their error.” Spock appeared to believe he had answered the question. His long fingers danced over two of the screens, there was a flash, and one screen went dark.
“Olbers. Yeah.” Kirk turned back to the thick porthole and contemplated the blackness. Thinking like that made his brain twist. He nodded acknowledgement to the universe. “Too damned vast. Any chance you’ll finish that before we make orbit tomorrow?”
“To which ‘it’ are you referring, Jim?” Spock did look up then, a quirk on his lips that denoted amusement. “I will finish all of the ship’s business in approximately 47 minutes, depending on intranet download time. My own projects will, however, occupy a further hour after that, including uploads to the portables.”
Jim didn’t sigh. It was always so, Spock tying up loose ends before what he complained of as ‘enforced inactivity’ during planetside away missions, diplomatic missions or shore leaves. As they were estimating two to five days planetside, Spock was pre-approving a new rotation’s duty roster for all 430 personnel tonight, something he would normally not have tackled for another 2 days. “No chess, then. I’m going to take a turn around the ship before I call it a night.”
“Very well. I will forward all ship’s business to your yeoman for your signature in the morning.” Spock was already gone again, some arcane figures scrolling up a previously dark screen. Kirk straightened up and strode toward the door, pausing briefly to squeeze Spock’s shoulder as he passed him.
“Good. See you tomorrow.”
Kirk slowed his stride once outside, padding softly past the various senior officers’ doors. McCoy, Uhura. Corridor. Sulu, Scott. Corridor. Turbo lift. He got in and spent a moment in thought. “Engineering.”
‘Why do I have a yeoman at all, when Spock does all the reports?’ Not that Spock did, of course. Ensign Peters, current acting yeoman, did the basics: crew scheduling, fuel consumption, general stores requisitions... all things that came to him in basic form from various department heads. Most yeomen would feed that raw data into the ship’s mainframe and have viable reports to hand to his or her or its captain in seconds. It was good training for a young officer, teaching them about all the tedious detail work that a well-run Starship generated. Kirk remembered the couple of months he’d spent doing it, without fondness.
On Enterprise, however, Spock handled the summation of these things: Fuel anomalies, trouble spots in rotations, unusual consumption, repeated malfunctions, anything out of the ordinary. Kirk had once asked Spock why he bothered, when the computer could do it all so easily.
“I am aware of that, Captain,” had come the rumbling voice. “It is true that if I do it, the initial synthesis takes longer by a factor of point five three. However, over the long term that time factor is reduced to a negative factor of minus point zero nine five, as my own genetic software automatically correlates repeat or related anomalies over the entire time that I have summarized the reports, while the computer automatically disregards any reports that are more than 4 Standard months old. Reprogramming the computer every day to trace similar occurrences of irregularities in a multi-dimensional model that changes parameters on an almost daily basis would require significantly more time.”
“I believe you are talking about ‘intuition’, Spock!”
“You are mistaken. I merely state that I am capable of acknowledging parameters which are not part of the computer’s programming.”
“Other ships manage to run on computer output, Mr. Spock.”
“Enterprise is not ‘other ships’, Captain.”
A point of pride. Kirk knew better than to comment on it. Spock got it all done, and he got it all done better than any other exec in Fleet. The results begged the question. Kirk knew he, too, was guilty of circular logic where Enterprise was concerned. He also knew better than to point it out to his First Officer. He knew that Spock ran the computer solutions as well, for the purely pragmatic reason that he was unable to perform his duties an average of 3 days out of every 43 due to injury or absence. Usually absence, knock on wood.
Which absences he always followed up by reading every report generated while he was unable to complete his nightly ritual, to allow his ‘genetic software’ to catch up to the current models. Sheesh. Kirk had once accused him of micro-managing, and had learned from the week-long sulk that followed that a) vulcans did not micro-manage and b) vulcans did not sulk.
The turbolift opened silently at main engineering, and Kirk padded through the big double safety doors and stood staring down the main matter/anti-matter well. The throb of the big ship’s heart was all around him, coming up through the soles of his shoes and pressing gently in the air against his uniform. He looked around carefully; something felt amiss, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
It was nearly 2350 hours, and the Beta watch was beginning to yawn. Gamma should be trickling in. Kirk glanced across at the crew person monitoring the power grid, a middle-aged terran Master Specialist wearing the double crossed spanners of the Corps of Engineers on his breast. Bresson. Besson. Damn, Kirk couldn’t recall the man’s name. He had a steaming cup of coffee to hand, and appeared alert enough, but Kirk saw that he was shifting his feet nervously. Probably wishing he could telegraph the captain’s presence to the rest of his watch, Kirk surmised. He shot the man a half-smile, then stepped over the railing and slid to the lower deck to have a walk around the warp core.
A really young pair of crewmen, 2nd class, supervised by a severe looking cadet, nearly fell over themselves as they cleared a path for Kirk among the mess of a disembowelled control unit of some kind. Looked like a make-work project, Kirk thought. He nodded in a curt but friendly enough manner, stepped around the worst of the mess, and kicked a stray module that looked like part of a power routing unit back toward one of the youngsters.
“Let’s keep a tidy workplace, gentlefolk.”
“Sir, yes sir!” Kirk walked on, generally pleased with the overall look of the department, though something was still nagging at him. Behind him he heard the disgruntled hissing of the cadet as she reprimanded the crewmen for the supposed slight to her honour. Cadets. He barely remembered being one. Blocking a bad memory, no doubt.
At the Duty Station on the core deck he spent a couple of minutes with CPO Abrams, looking over the scheduled maintenance for the following 10 days, then strolled back into the corridor and took the lift up to Recreation.
While a ship’s logged hour ended at 59 minutes and 31 seconds, a crew hour ended at plus or minus 6 minutes. So it wasn’t surprising to see a few Beta watch crew getting their supper while some of Gamma watch was finishing breakfast. These things evened out over time. Kirk acknowledged many greetings as he looked around the huge main mess, and then paced across to the replicators.
“Cap’n can’t sleep,” he heard behind him. “Planetfall tomorrow.”
“He always up before we make orbit?”
“Always. Mark my words.”
Kirk grinned to himself as he requested his hot chocolate. Maybe that’s all it was, this off feeling he had. He contemplated going to the Bridge, but he had supervised the Beta/Gamma hand-off only two nights earlier and didn’t want the junior officers to think he was keeping an eye on them. Damn, he really could have used Spock’s calm company over the chessboard. He noticed Sulu and Chapel sitting together with a deck of cards, and crossed the room to greet them.
“Morning,” he said, just as the chrono ticked over to 0000 and the mess began to empty of Gamma personnel very quickly. Hikaru and Christine looked up and smiled.
“Hi, Captain,” Sulu offered. “Have a seat and watch Christine lose a week’s pay.”
“Tut, tut, Mister Sulu, gambling in front of the youngsters. Nurse Chapel, I’m surprised at you.” He swung into a seat and scanned the table; they were playing blackjack. He grinned.
“So am I, Captain. I should know better than to risk anything I can’t afford to lose on this Asian mind-reader,” Chapel responded in her soft, deep voice, sounding rueful.
Sulu gathered the cards together and began to shuffle. “It’s not mind-reading, Chris. It’s just a case of following the cards and estimating the probabilities. Spock could teach it to you in an hour, if he could teach it to me. You’ve got a good head for numbers.”
Chapel snorted and shook her head. “Mister Spock, sit down alone with a woman for an hour, outside the line of duty? Have you lost your mind, Hikaru?”
Kirk frowned. “I’m not sure that speculation is appropriate, Ms. Chapel. I realize that you and Spock have had some disagreements in the past, but that’s no reason to suggest he is a misogynist.”
“Oh, hell, Captain, he’s not a misogynist. I don’t mean that at all.” Christine shook her head and smiled at him. “It’s just that, on Spock’s list of things to do with his time, spending any in recreation or relaxation with a woman is so far down as to be beneath consideration. Surely, as well as you know him, you must realize he just doesn’t ‘get’ women. Doesn’t mean he can’t work with us, he manages that beautifully. He just has no interest whatsoever in socializing with us.”
Sulu was trying hard not to smile. He glanced up at Kirk and held up the cards. “Deal you in, Captain?”
Shaking his head, Kirk turned back to Chapel, determined to set her straight. “Ms. Chapel... Christine. Spock doesn’t socialize, in the general way we do, it’s not a trait of vulcans to require recreation or relaxation in the same way.”
She laughed out loud then, and her eyes were wide and incredulous. “Oh, come on, Captain. He listens to music with Pavel at least once a week, and they review poetry together. He fences with Hikaru, and has even offered to teach him to use a ‘lirpa’. He plays chess with you almost nightly, and almost always takes his meals with you and Leonard. Tell me you are always discussing ship’s business then. But you’ll never catch him practicing his lyre with Nyota, or teaching me to cheat at cards. He just isn’t interested in women.”
Sulu, who had coloured strangely during this little speech, began to deal the cards. “It’s not cheating. Besides, he helped Nyota reprogram the holoprojectors last month so she could cycle those old vulcan stereos.”
“Vulcan stereos, showing vulcan history. And the reprogramming had ramifications for the ship’s communications systems. That was work, Hikaru, not fun.” She peeked at her cards and then sighed. “I think I’ve had enough of this game for tonight. Maybe you could teach me how to figure the probabilities some day?”
“I’ll be happy to try, Chris. Captain, don’t pay too much attention to her; it’s just sour grapes. Half the females on this ship are in love with Spock, and about a quarter of the men.”
Kirk laughed as Chapel blushed, but sobered at her next remark. “Not me, not anymore. But I wish good luck to the men that are. How about you, Hikaru? A little nip and tuck with our handsome first officer?”
Sulu chuckled, but didn’t seem the least bit surprised by the comment. “I’m hopelessly het, Chris. My one attempt at boys was so long ago I’ve almost managed to forget how embarrassing it was.”
Kirk managed to maintain a neutral smile as he stood up. “Well, this is straying into the kind of revelation that you really don’t want your captain hearing. Goodnight, you two.” He barely heard their ‘goodnight’s, his mind spinning as he walked toward the door.
Once safely in the turbolift he leaned against the wall and tried to think. No matter which way he parsed that conversation, it seemed that both Sulu and Chapel took it for granted that Spock was homosexual.
Spock. How could that be, and Kirk not have known? It didn’t seem possible.
Kirk realized he was still gripping the now empty mug that had held his chocolate, and that the lift was waiting for directions. He called for Officer’s Quarters and straightened up as the lift began to move. On impulse he checked the status lights at Bone’s door; the doctor was still awake. Kirk punched the announcer before he could change his mind, and stepped inside as soon as the door opened.
McCoy was lying on his couch, a padd on his lap and a glass of bourbon on the table beside him. The bottle beside it was nearly full.
“Hey, Jim. What’s up? Or just the usual trouble sleeping?”
Blowing out his breath in frustration, Kirk swung himself onto a chair and set the empty mug on McCoy’s table. He reached for the bourbon bottle and poured himself a generous portion. “Am I that transparent? Do I always have trouble sleeping the night before planetfall? Some youngsters were talking about it in the mess.”
“That’s what’s bugging you? Of course they notice, and talk about it. Everyone on this ship is a dedicated Kirkologist, Captain. Their lives revolve around you. That’s simply the nature of society on a starship.”
“Some people seem to be paying more attention to Spock, these days,” he ventured. McCoy sat up abruptly and set down his padd.
“Uh-oh. I knew you’d hear about that sooner or later, I should have brought it up. Believe me, Jim; no one thinks it wrong or dangerous or anything like that. In fact, I’d say that the vast majority of the crew actually feels there is a kind of poetic harmony in it. I know that stress levels dropped significantly when the rumour started going around.”
“Huh? Why, just because half the women on board could stop obsessing about him?”
McCoy laughed aloud. “About both of you, of course. Don’t worry, if you two continue to ignore it, it’ll peter out and become ‘just one of those things’ pretty quickly.” He stopped when he saw the intense gaze that Kirk had focused on him. “Jim?”
“What exactly are you telling me? What rumour?”
McCoy sipped his corn whiskey and cocked his head. “You’re kidding, right? Weren’t you talking about the current scuttlebutt about you and Spock taking up housekeeping?”
Kirk felt his mouth dropping open as a wave of shocked heat ran over him. “Me? And Spock?”
“Who else? Did you hear something different?”
After a long moment of silence in which Kirk struggled to make sense of what McCoy had just told him, he summoned a coherent sentence. He noticed his voice was tight. “I take it you don’t believe this particular rumour, Bones?”
“Hell, Jim, I figured that if it were true, you wouldn’t be trying to hide it from me. That would be against the rules, and it would be bad form for the two senior officers to break regs. Besides, you’re my best friend. If you and Spock had finally started a serious relationship, I knew you would have told... Jim, you’re awfully pale. This really bothers you?”
Kirk gulped his whiskey and poured himself another shot, his hands shaking. “I don’t know what I feel about that, Bones. I didn’t even know Spock was... I thought he was heterosexual. I remember thinking about it once, ages ago when I first took over the ship... something in his manner... I dismissed it as a racial difference rather than a sexual indicator. Then that business with T’Pring. If I thought about it at all I assumed that homosexuality was illogical, having nothing to do with procreation.” He downed the second shot of corn whiskey and was about to pour a third when McCoy took the bottle away from him.
“Jim, Spock is as queer as an Aldebaran newt. I thought you knew! That Pon Farr thing, it’s a biological imperative certainly, but it has nothing to do with sexual preference in terms of a vulcan’s sensual nature. It’s only about making babies. Whereas, I know you’re aware that most of us sentients have sex for a lot of other reasons besides the continuation of our various species! Spock doesn’t have any interest in women.”
“But he has interest in men?”
“I could name half a dozen he’s gotten horizontal with over the last year, and I bet there are more I haven’t noticed. He only just attained sexual maturity after all, so I think he’s playing the field a bit. Or as much as vulcans do. Remember when you figured out how your plumbing worked?”
“Bones! That was ages ago, and besides, what my mother didn’t know couldn’t hurt her,” Kirk joked, trying to keep himself from blushing.
“Well, same goes for Spock. It’s really not any of your business, unless he tells you himself. I’m surprised you didn’t know; your sexual antennas are usually pretty well tuned up, but I’m more shocked that he hasn’t told you. I wonder why. You never made any silly remarks about gays, did you?”
“Oh come on, Bones! Me? I’ve tried every flavour of sex there is, I’m hardly one to throw stones. I’m just...” he trailed off. “It doesn’t seem logical.”
McCoy snorted and shook his head. “Sex rarely does.”
“But he was bonded to T’Pring.”
“They bond them all when they’re kids, Jim. To make sure that someone is aware of that first Pon Farr approaching. Like us humans, vulcans are predominantly het. But like us humans, you can’t tell either way until they start to care about sex, so they bond them based on the majority preference. I talked about it with Amanda last year. Sexual preference doesn’t usually become manifest in vulcans until they hit puberty, which for them is just before their first Pon Farr. Spock was just approaching sexual maturity when you came aboard the ship, and probably didn’t even realize that he was gay until that T’Pring nonsense. Haven’t you noticed how much he has... well, settled into his skin in the months since then?”
“But where the hell is the logic in that?”
“It’s logical for vulcans to seek a partner to provide emotional support, Jim. Just because they control their emotions and don’t use them as a reason for their actions, doesn’t mean they don’t have them. I’ll have to lend you some vulcan romantic poetry. It’ll knock your socks off. They are very passionate people... in the privacy of their own homes. Outside their homes they are cold, logical, and efficient. Did you suppose that Lady Amanda settled for violent sex once every seven years?”
“I didn’t think it was any of my business.”
“Well, strictly speaking, I suppose it isn’t.” McCoy relinquished the bottle and watched as Jim poured the equivalent of four drinks into his mug. “You’re gonna regret that in the morning.”
“I already regret it,” Kirk replied, sipping the strong liquor. “You’ll give me a detox, won’t you? I’ve had a shock.”
“And why? I don’t understand why you’re so upset. There are always rumours about you, and about Spock. In the imaginations of your crew you’ve been paired up with every enlisted person from Petty Officer up, and every officer on this ship over the rank of 2nd Lieutenant. Hell, for a while you and I were a very hot item, Chris and I had a big laugh over that one.”
“Does he have a lover on board right now?”
“Uh-uh, Jim-boy. None of your business, or mine, unless it interferes with the chain of command. Then we invoke the regs. But until or unless he notifies me of a conflict, I don’t ask and he doesn’t tell.” McCoy sighed deeply. “But I certainly hope so. If not now, then someday soon. He’s a pretty lonely old soul, Jim.”
That simple statement moved something in Kirk’s chest, and he nodded. It was the bourbon, he decided, that was making his eyes water. “I’d better get to my quarters before I start to stagger. Thanks for the chat, Bones.”
“You’re welcome. Come and talk about it some more once you wrap yourself around it a little better. I’ll program a detox into your morning coffee right now, Jimmy. Get some sleep.”
“Yeah.” He glanced at the wall chrono. 0127. “Goodnight, Bones.”
“Night.”
*
'My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak.
'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
'I never know what you are thinking. Think.'
*
The detoxed coffee had kicked in before he left his quarters, for which he was thankful. Despite his worry the night before, the booze had sent him to unconscious rest as soon as he’d gotten under the blanket, but the sleep had been of poor quality and full of whiskey evoked nightmares, and he’d woken up with a sour headache. Peters, his yeoman, brought a stack of padds while he was still dressing; rather than leave them for later, Kirk gathered them under his arm as he left his quarters to begin his day. He strode into main briefing at 0800 to find his entire landing party seated and waiting, all 20 of them, including Spock and Uhura. He managed his normal smile, and settled into his seat.
“Good morning, people. Iota Cetus Three, locally known as Parson’s World, or plain old Parsons. Class three Federation Colony, principal inhabitants human 92 percent, several other races represented. Colony has reached population threshold for an Academy intake college, and we are here to provide the curriculum and instructors for their first year students. The 8 of you staying behind here...”
He went on with his briefing, covering ground that they all knew but which had to go on the official record before beaming down. Once he had given the overview, he handed off to Spock who ran through a tedious list of required material, a long checklist that took nearly half an hour to confirm. Then Uhura, overviewing and reviewing the contact and emergency protocols for those remaining on the planet. A short Q & A, and then Kirk took the briefing back.
“Beam down will commence at 0930, from the main transporter room. Please make sure your personal effects are delivered to cargo handling before you report to the transporter. Dismissed.”
He sat back as the junior crew filed out, and observed Spock as he gathered his briefing materials together. The vulcan looked as he always did; quiet, intelligent, focused. Kirk gave a mental shrug and began to sort through the padds he’d brought with him, scanning and signing off the various reports. Halfway through he stabbed the intercom. “Ensign Peters report to main briefing.”
“On my way, sir,” came the young man’s disembodied voice. Kirk continued to review the reports, conscious of Spock sitting beside him, calmly waiting. He glanced up.
“Something to say, Spock, or just waiting to go to the transporter?”
“Both, sir.” Kirk stopped reading and straightened his uniform tunic before folding his hands on the table. “I note that Governor Nandipally Rao has invited us to a formal dinner this evening. May I suggest that you have Yeoman Peters resize your dress uniform?”
“Resize, Spock?”
“Captain, you have not worn your dress uniform since our reception enroute to the Babel conference. You have lost considerable weight since then.”
Kirk blinked and licked his lips. The statement was nothing more than Spock’s usual total awareness of what was going on around him, he realized that. And yet, in light of last evening’s revelation, it struck him as absurdly personal that Spock was keeping track of his weight. He quickly filtered through a number of responses, and decided to keep it light. “Mr. Spock, have you joined the McCoy Campaign to keep me dieting? I’m surprised at you.”
Spock shook his head. “I merely point out that you would be most uncomfortable in a poorly fitting uniform, sir, and that you will doubtless not have time to take care of the matter yourself.”
“Thank you, Mr. Spock.” The door swished open, and Kirk turned to Peters. “Ah, Peters, please have my dress uniform resized per the last measurements I had recorded for my standard uniform. And take these things away, they all look fine to me.” He pushed the pile of padds across the table and Peters, unsmiling, gathered them together. “Look into local customs, too, Peters, and see if I am supposed to take a host-gift to this formal event tonight, will you? Requisition something appropriate, if required.”
“Yes sir. Anything else, sir?”
“No. Carry on.” He stood up and tapped Spock lightly on the forearm. “Mister Spock, shall we take a tour of the bridge before we beam down?”
“As you say, Captain.”
Nandipally Rao had the tawny skin and black hair that went with his ancestral name, but startling green eyes that managed to look vitally interested in whatever was happening around him. He was powerfully built, and Kirk recognized in him the same sort of charisma that Kirk had, himself; the draw of the leader, the magnetism of the commander. Rao’s staff all seemed to adore him, deferring to him without sycophancy. Kirk felt at ease with him at once, and knew that he wouldn’t if their interests crossed in any way. He wouldn’t want to be in competition with Rao; blood would flow.
As it was, they got along perfectly.
The preliminary meetings with the Colonial Council and the Board of Governors went true to form. Compliments, meaningless pleasantries. General informational exchange. Acknowledgement of hard correspondence transported to planetary mail distribution systems, the reception of medical updates and technological manuals. They broke for an informal lunch buffet in the same conference room they were meeting in, and then the discussions around the formalizing of the Academy intake college began.
Kirk was squirming with boredom by mid-afternoon; or he would have been squirming if he had allowed himself the luxury. It was with considerable relief that he agreed to the governor’s suggestion that the preliminaries were over, and that the various instructional and support staff should get to work at the Academy building so that any deficiencies would be identified and corrected quickly, allowing Enterprise to continue on her patrol. He watched his team filing out with the Parsonians, and then turned with a smile for Governor Rao.
“A productive meeting, your Excellency,” he offered. The governor nodded and stood up beside him.
“I agree, Captain. I’m sure that StarFleet will be pleased with the calibre of young folk we’re turning out on Parsons. If I wasn’t so old, I’d be entering the Academy myself.”
Kirk shot him a look. “Give up your hard-won position to become a junior space cadet, sir? Seems like a strange choice for a man of your accomplishments.”
Rao laughed and waved a hand toward the door. “Let’s get out in the air, Captain. I suppose that it might seem strange, but I envy you your moving office, sir. How delightful it must be, exploring this vast galaxy, meeting so many different people, encountering interesting and new challenges daily. The office of Governor is dynamic, of course, in its own way, but can’t compare to the exploration of space.”
“I do enjoy my work, Excellency. Usually.”
“Call me Nandi, Captain. Protocol is for the press and junior staff.”
“And I’m Jim.” They walked down the utilitarian corridor of the government headquarters, and Rao opened a door into a severely landscaped interior courtyard garden. “You’ve done a good job here, considering the colony is only 3 decades old.”
“We’ve attracted a good number of very high quality people, thanks to the climate and geography. I wouldn’t want to be governor of a desert colony, nor yet a jungle. This is a nice, temperate, interesting place. You’ll be at this dinner tonight? Bring your senior staff.”
“Of course.”
They chatted for half an hour before Rao excused himself to deal with business, providing Kirk with a guide to take him across to the new Academy building. Utilitarian, almost ugly, it was a two story basic school, with 2 lecture halls, a science lab, several offices, an infirmary and a gymnasium, attached to a dull barracks that would house the 23 young people accepted into first year. Kirk knew that within a couple of years funding would start to flow back from StarFleet to Parsons, and that the ugly character of the school would vanish quickly if the quality of graduates was high enough; StarFleet rewarded and promoted those of its intake academies that excelled. Those that didn’t seldom lasted past their second year.
He hoped Parsons would excel. 23 students was a respectable number for such a small colony.
His people were scattered around the school, reviewing computer logs and source material, inventorying teaching aids and safety equipment. He found Uhura hunched over a terminal in one of the offices – she looked up brightly as he entered.
“Mister Spock is just over in the instructor’s barracks, sir.”
Kirk’s step faltered, and he frowned. “What made you suppose I was looking for Commander Spock, Lieutenant Uhura?”
Uhura’s mahogany skin darkened slightly. “I... apologize, sir. I don’t know what I was thinking. You wanted to see me?”
“I wanted to see what everyone was doing, Lieutenant, and get your impressions. How does the facility seem to you? Have they done their homework?”
She nodded, straightening up and crossing her arms. “They seem to have it all under control, sir. I doubt we’ll need to do much more than wait for our instructors to settle in.”
“Good. The sooner we’re back on patrol the happier I’ll be. You received my invitation to the dinner tonight, I assume?”
“Yes, sir. Formal.”
“Just so, Lieutenant. Carry on.”
He backed out the door and turned resolutely away from the barracks side of the building, pulling out his communicator as he strode toward the front of the school. So, even Uhura was in on the current rumour about him and Spock. It was damned embarrassing, but he couldn’t figure out why. Why should it matter to him if his people thought he was involved with his First Officer? What more appropriate liaison could he make? Damn it, if it were true he’d own up to it proudly, he thought.
“Kirk to Enterprise. Prepare to beam me aboard.”
“Standing by, sir.”
It occurred to him then that perhaps he was a little hurt that Spock had made no overtures toward him. Could he be feeling just the least bit left out? He paused in the shade of the ugly building and gave himself a mental shake. He was an experienced man, he’d finished with his sexual ‘experimenting’ years ago, and no doubt Spock knew it. It would be illogical for Spock to parade his inexperience before his commanding officer; especially given the unavoidable fact that since Kirk had been aboard the Enterprise the captain’s sexual adventures had primarily been with females, though of various species.
Perhaps Spock thought him exclusively heterosexual. Hmmm. It bore thinking about.
Later that day, walking down the corridor beside Peters and fussing with the collar of his dress tunic, his mind wandered back over the idea. It occurred to him that he hadn’t seduced any of the human command staff; that it would have been bad form. He had too much authority over them, it could easily be construed as harassment, and Bones would have had to report him to Fleet. Not worth the fun, at the risk of destroying a professional relationship. But not with a vulcan; they were immune to that sort of coercion, weren’t they? If he and Spock did hitch up, no one at Fleet could complain. Of course, he’d assumed Spock was het, and that vulcans weren’t prone to homosexuality. But knowing different, he felt the stirrings of curiousity about his enigmatic friend.
Wondered if Spock would be open to the notion of a liaison with his Captain, or if that would endanger the friendship they had built. There were many sides to the idea.
“Sir?”
He stopped outside the transporter room and looked at Peters. “I was wool-gathering. Sorry, Ensign. You’d better repeat all that.”
“Yes, sir. Governor Rao is a practicing Buddhist of the Tibetan Tantric tradition, and my research indicates that rice wine, tea, and fruit are the appropriate gifts for the occasion. As is customary on a colony world, I have included static-controlled seed for every fruit, and three of the tea seedlings, as a hope for the future. The wine is extremely potent, and should be used as an aperitif or an after dinner liqueur. It is a replica of a famous brand, made in the monastery at Lhasa. If he offers a toast to any particular god or goddess, you needn’t try to respond except to give a slight bow.” He demonstrated.
“Thank you, Ensign. Anything else I should be aware of?”
“Not to my knowledge sir. The governor was born and raised on Earth, and is, of course, a practiced diplomat.”
Kirk grinned. “So if I do something wrong he will, politely, not notice. Good. Ah, Lieutenant Uhura, looking very nice this evening. And Mr. Spock. The costume adds to your dignity.” He reached over and gave Spock’s upper arm a comradely squeeze.
Spock inclined his head, but Uhura gave Kirk a critical look and smiled mischievously. “Gracious, Captain, you do look good in that uniform. I believe you’ve lost some weight, too.”
He groaned aloud and glared at McCoy, now rounding the corner and coming toward them. “Uhura, I get more than enough of that from the good Doctor and my ever observant First Officer. Bones, did you recruit the whole crew to watch my diet for me?”
“More the merrier, I say. Though you are looking sleek, Jim. This the whole party?”
“Commander Llaydaod remained on the planet with her staff, and will meet us at the function,” Spock replied, stiff in his formal blues with the sash of his family across his chest. “Unless the Captain has passed the invitation to any other of the staff...”
“No, I think the four of us can get into enough trouble, and Scotty is minding the store. Peters, give that fruit basket to the Lieutenant and hand me the wine. It’s a host gift, Mister Uhura. You present it to Rao with our gracious so forth and so on.”
“Yes, sir, I know the drill.”
“Right, shall we go?” He turned and the door to the transporter room slide open. As he mounted the platform and took his place, he finished his instructions. “General embassy protocol, folks, and don’t stay for the night unless you’re sure you’re invited. And anyone who comments on what I eat gets three days in the brig on bread and water. Peters, make sure Scotty reviews the green-tag understock report, will you? He needs to get on to Starbase 17 about spares for the replicators, but I think he forgot during the environmentals upgrade. Then take the night off.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Co-ordinates received and locked in, sir.”
“Energize.”
**
It had gone well, he thought later, until the moment that Rao had leaned over to him and whispered in his ear. Dinner was over and the milling crowd had taken seats for a musical recital. Kirk was sitting beside the governor, enjoying the freedom from responsibility that the professionalism of his crew allowed him. On Rao’s other side, Spock was absorbed in the music. Behind them the other officers were scattered among the locals.
“Jim,” came the husky voice. He’d half turned and smiled at Nandi, distracted from the piano solo, and raised his eyebrows. The blazing green eyes were centimetres from his own. Kirk felt a stir of sexual interest, and licked his lips before responding.
“Yes, Nandi?”
“Would I be stepping on any toes if I invited your Mr. Spock to stay after the recital? He seems open to the idea, but I don’t want to break any unwritten rules or hurt any feelings.”
Kirk had felt as if he were suddenly nailed to his chair, so quickly did his muscles tense. His eyes shot across Rao to the seemingly engrossed vulcan, then back to Rao. “No toes that I’m aware of, Governor,” he managed tightly. “What makes you think he wants to? He looks like he’s thoroughly involved in the music.”
“Oh, perhaps I’m wrong. I’ve been wrong before. Shame not to try, though. He’s rather...compelling.”
The frankness of that confession had rocked Kirk, and he’d torn his eyes away from Rao’s before the blush reached his cheeks. “Mister Spock may do as he pleases, of course. He is not attached to anyone aboard the ship, as far as I am aware.”
“Excellent.” Rao had sat back, all but licking his lips. Kirk didn’t hear another note of the music, his mind spinning, remembering his half-joking remark about not spending the night.
Good lord, he thought, the universe is conspiring to push Spock’s sexuality in my face. What the hell is going on with my karma, anyway?
And later, aboard the ship, avoiding McCoy and Uhura’s eyes as he paced beside them back up to the officer’s deck, he had scarcely been able to believe the alacrity with which Spock had accepted the Governor’s proposal. It was then that he remembered Peters’ remark about Rao’s religion.
Tantric Buddhism.
Great balls of fire. He hoped Spock knew what he was getting himself into.
“Jim?”
He startled and turned to McCoy, stopped outside the door to Kirk’s quarters. “Sorry, Bones. I was somewhere else.”
“Hmmm, you sure were. I asked if you wanted a nightcap before you turn in.”
“I... yes. Yes, I would. Come in, I have some good Scotch left from Starbase Aldrin.”
Settled in his quarters, both of them cradling glasses of amber fire, McCoy was studying him from under his brows. After a long silence the doctor cleared his throat. “Well, that solves the problem of the rumour, anyway.”
“No kidding.” Kirk heard the bitterness and winced, but it was too late. McCoy was smiling at him. That ‘I know what you’re thinking’ smile. “Don’t say it.”
“Say what? You were worried that your crew thought you were partners. Now they’ll know better within minutes. You know how fast news travels on this ship. Wonder who they’ll pair you up with next?”
“I hate gossip.”
“Then you shouldn’t be in charge of a bunch of highly imaginative people in a confined environment in deep space. This is great scotch, by the way. What’s the make?”
“Oban.” Kirk swirled his glass absently. “Bones, why didn’t Spock ever talk to me about any of this? I mean, why...”
“Why didn’t you know? I keep wondering that myself. Maybe he just doesn’t care to open up his very private life to you, especially after that fiasco at the kun-ut-kal-i-fee.” McCoy stumbled over the vulcan phrase. “Hope Rao’s ready for vulcan strength.”
“I hope Spock’s ready for Tantric sex.” He saw McCoy’s eyebrows shoot up and almost grinned. “That’s right. Rao’s religion of record is Tantric Buddhism. Ever hear of it?”
“God, I had a roommate who practiced it, back in med school. I always knew when he was ‘occupied’, the howling was ear-splitting.” He chuckled. “Mind you, vulcan sexuality is pretty tied up in mysticism as well.”
“Where do you learn these things!” Kirk set his glass down and stood up to pace. “I feel like a mushroom, Bones. Go on, I’m sure you have more to tell me.”
“Well, you know how strong he is. He killed you, after all,” McCoy drawled. “Stamina is part of that, too, Jim. I got a bunch of downloads from Mitch Beresford, after our Vulcan adventure was over though, unfortunately. Could have used the information earlier! Mitch spent a couple of years there at the Hybrid Medical Centre, and had a few adventures with vulcans. Our vulcan friends take their sexual pleasure very seriously indeed, Jim-boy. Apparently it would be illogical to espouse celibacy, as the body obviously needs sexual release to maintain a proper chemical and hormonal balance, even outside of Pon Farr. Beyond that, they feel that the emotions associated with orgasm are a purification of the baser emotions such as lust, greed, jealousy, and so on. And you know that vulcans never do anything by halves, Jimmy. Compared to a vulcan, your longest session would probably be considered a meaningless quickie.”
“Ouch, Bones. That hurts.” He laughed. “Well, well, well. The more I learn, the madder I am that Spock never propositioned me!” The chuckle he expected didn’t come. Instead, McCoy was peering at him over the edge of his glass with that familiar smirk. Kirk sat back down and shook his head. “You weren’t meant to take that seriously.”
“Captain Kirk, I take everything you say seriously. And I actually believe that you meant that last remark.”
“Oh, hell.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair and loosened the tight collar of his dress tunic. “I suppose I’m disappointed that Spock would be interested in one night stands. I kind of assumed that sex for him included some sort of touching of minds, and that doesn’t seem like a casual thing to me.”
“No, it doesn’t, does it? Remember though, he’s still learning about his sexual, and psychosexual responses. Just like you were when you were about 17 years old. How long did that phase last with you? Until about a week ago, wasn’t it?”
Both of them laughed then, and Kirk refilled the doctor’s glass. “Next to you, Bones, he’s my best friend. I don’t want to see him hurt.”
“He doesn’t want to see you hurt, either. And if you both keep cool about this, neither of you will be. Just take it easy, and if he wants to talk to you about it he will. At least, after tonight, he’ll know that you are finally aware of him as a sexual being.”
“I’d be interested in reading the material you got from Doctor Beresford.”
“Oh, really?” McCoy sipped the scotch, grinning widely. “A bit of prurient interest, Jim?” Kirk found he was blushing again, but didn’t look away.
“Maybe it is. I prefer to think that I care about Spock.”
“I’m sure you do. Care about him, I mean.” McCoy leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a minute, and Kirk braced himself for a lecture about his sexual conduct and misconduct over the years. Instead, McCoy skewered him with a look and began a ten-minute rant about the quality of the equipment in the new Academy infirmary.
Half an hour later he managed to get to bed without, quite, obsessing about what Spock might be doing.
**
Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
I do not know whether a man or a woman
—But who is that on the other side of you?
**
With the ship still in orbit, the Academy work going smoothly and nothing to do, Kirk decided on an inspection of all auxiliary control areas for the next morning. He breakfasted early, trying not to look around for his first officer, then called Scotty to a small briefing room and let him in on his plans. “I’ll need a couple of good technicians, Mister Scott, but not your best, if you’ll arrange it. And if you’ll mind the bridge for me...”
“Don’t ye think I’d be a better choice for that sort of inspection, sir? I know those systems like the back of me hand.” The chief engineer looked discomfited by his captain’s sudden impulse to inspect his back-up systems.
“Of course, you could spot anything wrong in seconds, Scotty. But I need to keep current on the technology as well. And if your least experienced staff can’t explain it to me well enough for me to run it blindfolded, they will need some remedial training and so will I. Make sense?”
Scotty’s lips had twisted and he cocked his head, accepting. “Aye, Captain. Aye, you are two refits behind on the auxiliary bridge, as well as the secondary weapons console and the emergency engineering backup systems.”
So Kirk found himself crawling under consoles and down Jeffries tubes, in the company of a pair of midshipmen who were even more nervous than Scotty had been. Preskin and T’thic’es, both aspiring to officer’s school in a couple of years, both hoping for a good report to their department head.
The new auxiliary systems were even more intuitive than the old ones, he realized; easier to use, rather than harder, and almost self-explanatory. The youngsters who were following him on the inspection managed to teach him the new routings and couplings easily, and he made a note to commend Scotty for the efficiency of his department.
“Bridge to Captain Kirk.” Kirk smacked his head on the roof of the tertiary photon tube, where he was tracing the new coolant ducting, and swore loudly. Much to the amusement of Midshipman Preskin, who was head to head with him.
“Did they make this one narrower than the old one, Preskin?”
“No sir. I do that all the time, sir.”
“Well, don’t. It’s damned painful.” He inched out of the tube and paced to the wall comm, rubbing a developing lump on the back of his head. “Go ahead, Scotty.”
“Governor Rao holding for you, Captain. Shall I have them pipe it down there?”
“Go ahead. Governor Rao, Kirk here.”
A moment’s silence, then the smooth voice came over. “Captain. Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”
Kirk rubbed his head and shot a grin at Preskin and T’thic’es, side by side as they closed up the photon tube. They smiled back, and Kirk turned back to the comm. “Not at all, Governor. How can I be of assistance?”
“Commander Llaydaod informs me that she is satisfied with the condition and equipment at our little Academy, and asked me to advise you accordingly. I believe that signifies a change-over of authority, Captain.”
Kirk nodded to himself. Hours ahead of their most generous estimate. He felt a surge of relief at the idea of getting underway again, and an image of Spock floated through his mind. He squelched it and concentrated on what needed to be done now. “So logged, Governor. I will begin recalling my people, and inform you when we are ready to leave orbit. Did you have any further business for StarFleet at this time?”
“No, nothing. I enjoyed meeting you and your crew, Captain. Please drop by if you find yourself in our little sector again.”
“Thank you, Governor. Kirk out.” He released the comm, and then hit it again. “Kirk to Bridge.”
“Scott here.”
“Scotty, issue an all aboard, and secure the ship to get underway for Starbase Seventeen. I want to leave orbit at 1800.”
“Yes sir. Are ye done with your inspection then, Captain?”
“Just about, Scotty. I’ll let you know when I’m finished. Kirk out.” He turned back to the midshipmen and smiled. “I believe my next stop is in the emergency engineering section.”
“Yes, sir,” T’thic’es purred, waving a tentacle toward the door. “You will find that the emergency over-rides have been re-designed with the IDIC Minority Access memorandum of last quarter in mind, in order to allow the console panels to lower themselves within .5 meters from the ground, thereby facilitating access...” Kirk followed the enthusiastic engineer out, marvelling at the quality of his crew. That the 2.5 metre tall being even noticed that the console panels were too high for some of its crewmates was wonderful all by itself. That it cared was even better, especially considering the way it was ducking to get through the standard doorways without hurting itself. Kirk rubbed his own head again, and smiled.