The Needs of the Tribble
"Nobody seems to know where Tribbles come from…."
From "The Trouble with Tribbles"
TOS Season 2
James T. Kirk, revered Captain of the Starship Enterprise, many times decorated intergalactic hero, beloved son of Winona Kirk, adored Uncle of Peter Kirk, and youngest Captain of the Terran Starship Fleet, stumbled into his quarters and almost fell on his handsome face. He was totally exhausted. He was coming off a 16 hour work day, and he longed for a shower, peace and quiet, and his bed. It had been a very long and frustrating day. A day filled with annoying comm calls from clueless Admirals, a long meeting with a very grumpy McCoy shoving dwindling crew morale stats at him, a semi hysterical comm from Scotty reporting a sub atomic hum in the warp engines, (although how one could hear a sub atomic hum was beyond Jim) another long meeting with the quarter master detailing shortages that were getting critical, and finally a replicator malfunction; it was giving out banana pudding instead of chocolate pudding. This last was the most serious of all; after all, as Napoleon said, "an army marches on its stomach", or in the case of the Enterprise crew, warps on its stomach, and food, aside from oxygen and water, was the most important thing to the crew of a Starship.
Jim toggled the comm unit. "Yes, Captain?"
It was the middle of Beta shift, but for the life of him Jim couldn't remember who was at the comm board.
"Um," was Jim's intelligent comment.
"Ensign Masters here, Sir," a soft, understanding, soothing tenor voice responded.
Ensign Masters would go far, Jim decided, he could tell that he was a very intelligent and sympathetic young man. "Ensign, it has been a very long day, I'm about to hit the sack. I am not to be disturbed unless the engine nacelles drop off or the saucer section explodes, and even then, contact Commander Scott or Commander Spock first. Understood?"
"Understood, Captain. I'll see to it, Sir. You get some rest now and have a good night, Sir."
"Thank you, Ensign." Jim sighed in relief. He took off his gold shirt and black pants, pulled off his black boots and hit the shower. He came out dressed in his softest sweat pants and oldest t shirt, pulled back the orange coverlet on his bed, and got into his bunk. He drew in a long blissful sigh, plumped up his pillows, turned on his right side, drew up his knees, and closed his eyes. His eyes opened again almost immediately. He felt a small soft lump under his right hipbone. Were his sheets bunched up? Usually they were stretched military tight and straight, his yeoman was always meticulous about his sheets, and you could, as in the old army days, bounce a coin off of them. He reached a hand down to pull the sheet straight and his hand came in contact with something soft and furry. What the hell? He felt for it again, yes, definitely something soft and definitely furry. With another frustrated sigh, he got up.
"Lights, 50 percent," he said, drawing back the coverlet and top sheet.
His hazel eyes opened wide in horror! It couldn't be! It wasn't possible! Yet, there it was! Small, soft, fluffy, round, and disgusting. It was thrumming and cooing softy; a baby Tribble was in his bed! Jim opened his mouth and yelled at the top of his lungs. "SPOOOOOCK! SPOOOOCK!"
His bathroom door banged loudly and Spock lunged through their shared bathroom connecting door at a run. "Captain! Jim! What is wrong? Are you all right?" The usually soothing baritone voice was rough with sleep and slightly breathless from running.
Jim spared him a glance, distracted momentarily from his fury by the sight of his First Officer. Spock stood there with bare feet in his Star Fleet issued blue pajamas, his usually shiny cap of sleek bangs sticking up at a 45 degree angle, his face pale, and his pupils blown wide in alarm.
"Jim." Spock scanned Jim swiftly, he saw no blood, no obvious injury; he relaxed minutely and willed his heart rate to return to normal. He noted however that Jim's face was bright red, his breathing erratic, and his hazel eyes blazed with rage and something akin to horror.
"Jim," Spock said again, soothingly, "what has happened? What is wrong?"
Jim took in a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. "Spock," he said tightly. "There is a Tribble in my bed."
"A Tribble, Sir?" Spock looked unbelievingly at his Captain. "That is not possible, Captain. We removed every single Tribble from the ship before leaving Station K 7 and Sherman's Planet. Mr. Scott and I did a level one scan and search of all the ship's systems before we departed Station K 7. There were no Tribbles left on board. I can assure you, Captain, that the Tribble scan was exhaustive and thorough."
"Then, Mr. Spock," said Jim through clenched teeth, "what do you call this?" He held out the baby Tribble to Spock.
Spock looked at the being in his Captain's hand in disbelief. "I call it a Tribble, Sir; it is most definitely a Tribble," he said softly. "I am, however, at a loss to explain how there is still a Tribble on board the ship."
"Yes, Mr. Spock. That is the question of the moment, how did it get here, and more importantly how did it get in my bed? Is there a practical joker on my ship?" Jim asked dangerously.
Spock looked at him with something akin to horror on his face. "Captain, I can assure you no one of board this vessel would ever indulge in a practical joke involving Tribbles, Sir."
"Very well, Mr. Spock, I will for the moment take your word for that, but we're going to get to the bottom of this. Call the command crew to come to my quarters. Tell them not to bother with uniforms, just to get here."
"Now, Sir?" Spock asked, thinking of the Alpha crew, all sound asleep.
"Now, Mr. Spock. Is there a problem with NOW?" Jim asked, looking dangerous.
"Negative, Sir." Spock huffed a small sigh. The Alpha crew would not be happy. He went to the comm unit and buzzed Lt. Uhura, Mr. Scott, Dr. McCoy, Mr. Sulu, and Ensign Chekhov. "Please report to the Captain's quarters immediately, uniforms not required."
Jim and Spock waited in ominous silence. One by one the sleepy command crew came into Jim's quarters. They were all in various forms of dishabille. Sulu and Chekhov in sweats similar to Jim's, Scotty in a bizarre plaid night shirt, and Uhura, with a matching robe covering her short nightgown. The robe and nightgown showed her lovely legs to perfection.
"Jim," said a disgruntled and irate McCoy. He was still dressed in his medical scrubs. "What the hell, Jim. I was just going to bed, I had two surgeries this evening and I'm exhausted. What's so damn important that it couldn't wait until Alpha shift?"
"This," said Jim, holding out the baby Tribble in his hand. "This is what's so important. There was a Tribble in my bed." He gritted his teeth as they all looked blankly at him. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to go to bed and feel a lump under the sheets and find a Tribble there?"
He heard a stifled snort from someone, but when he scanned their faces, they all looked back at him solemnly.
"Do any of you have any idea why there is still a Tribble on board my ship?"
No one said a word.
"Mr. Scott, did I not order that the Enterprise be exterminated from Bow to Stern of every single Tribble?" Jim's voice was dangerously calm as he looked at Scotty.
"Aye, Sir, and it were done, as Mr. Spock will attest. We got rid of every single one of the wee beasties, and just to be sure, after the level 1 scan and removal, we did an additional eye and hand inspection of every nook and cranny of the ship. I can assure you, Captain, there was not one Tribble left on board."
"And yet, Mr. Scott, Mr. Spock," Jim said ominously, "here we are, in my quarters, with me holding a Tribble in my hand, and not just a Tribble, but a NEW Tribble, a baby! And, may I add that where there is a baby Tribble, logic dictates," and here Jim looked hard at Spock, "that there is also a mother Tribble somewhere. How is that possible, gentlemen, after your level 1 scan?" Jim looked piercingly at his two Commanders.
Oh Lordy, thought McCoy. Jim is in a right royal snit. I bet we'll be here for hours tryin' to get to the bottom of this Tribble debacle. He yawned hugely, rubbed his tired red eyes and closed them.
"Am I boring you, Dr. McCoy?" Jim turned to him angrily.
McCoy snapped his eyes open. "No, Sir, Captain, Sir. I'm just beat and not really interested in Tribbles right this minute."
If anything, Jim's face got redder at McCoy's response. "Not interested! Did I hear you say you're not interested, McCoy? Well, Doctor," Jim said, jaws clenched, eyes blazing at McCoy. "I bet you'd be a lot more interested if Tribbles got into your bio beds, or hid in the drug cabinets, or nested in the medical instruments bins. I bet you'd be a lot more interested then, Doctor!" Sarcasm dripped from Jim's every pore.
McCoy eyes his Captain. Damn, Jim was furious and McCoy just wasn't in the mood to deal with it. "Jim, you need to calm down, you're gonna have a stroke, your face is all red and your blood pressure must be through the roof," was his less than wise or tactful comment. Spock closed his eyes wearily and waited for the explosion.
Jim drew in a deep breath, eyed McCoy with profound dislike, and turned his eyes to his other officers who were strangely silent. Spock could almost hear their combined silent voices in his head, don't look at him, don't look at him. And indeed all eyes were staring fixedly at the floor. "I suppose the rest of you aren't interested in Tribbles either. Although how you can even think that after what they did to all the qautrotriticale at the station, I don't know. You know we'll have hundreds of them faster than warp speed. I won't have it on my ship! Is that clear?"
Uhura!" Her eyes snapped up to meet his, a definite deer in the headlights look in them. Jim's hazel eyes blazed as he looked at his best and brightest. "Tell me this, what if they got in your communication console, or Sulu's helm console, or Chekhov's navigation controls, or Mr. Scott, into the warp core, or Mr. Spock, into your science labs. Would any of you be interested then?" It was deathly silent in the room. No one said a word.
"Well? I'm waiting for a response," Jim said furiously.
"Aye, Sir," came the chorus, all eyes back to staring at the floor.
Spock's lips twitched uncontrollably. Jim looked ready to explode. This had to come to an end.
"Captain, I will see to the Tribble, Sir. It will bother you no more, I can assure you."
Jim turned to Spock so fast it was a wonder his neck didn't snap off. "You are correct, Mr. Spock. This Tribble will not bother me any more. Mr. Scott, put it in a box and send it out of the nearest airlock!"
The chorus of gasps from his crew sounded loud in the small room. Jim looked up from the Tribble still clutched in his hand to see six pair of reproachful eyes on him. Jim looked back at them with hard cold eyes. He didn't care what they thought of his decision.
"Nay, Sir. I canna' do it. Tis' not in me to beam the poor wee beastie into the darkness of space to die a terrible death. Tis' inhuman Sir, that's what it is." Scott looked mulishly at his Captain.
"Mr. Scott, are you disregarding a direct order from your Captain?" Jim's voice had taken a dangerous timber to it.
"Aye, Sir. That I am. I canna' do it. I've never had an order to kill a poor innocent beastie before and I'm not gonna' do it. Now, Sir, I will take me self to the brig, that I will, and save ye the trouble of calling for security." Scotty's accent had deepened in his distress, but his eyes were steadfast as he looked at Jim.
"Jim," Spock's voice was soft and reproachful. "I did not think you were a callous or hard hearted person."
"Jim, just settle down!" Bones had just about enough of Jim's tantrum. "You're totally over reacting and your temper is getting the best of you. As long as we don't feed the baby he won't reproduce, and there isn't any need to kill the baby Tribble. We'll find someplace for the poor thing."
Jim looked at his affronted Alpha crew. He drew in another deep breath and felt his shoulders relax and his temper ebb. Perhaps he was over reacting just a little.
Jim threw up metaphorical arms in defeat. "All right, Bones, I'm calm. Where do you suggest we put it? Where's the nearest uninhabited planet? We'll set it down there."
Spock felt a very un Vulcan sense of relief wash over him. He eyed the crew and saw the sudden relaxation of rigid shoulders and stiff postures. Jim, usually the kindest and most compassionate of men, had indeed over reacted; but in justice Spock could understand why as he remembered the fiasco of Sherman's Planet; the bomb, the Klingons, the thousands and thousands of fat and pregnant Tribbles, the loss of all the qautrotriticale. Spock walked over to the computer console. "Let me check for the nearest uninhabited planet with an atmosphere for the Tribble."
Everyone looked hopefully at him as he scrolled through the star charts for an appropriate planet. "I regret to say, Captain, that the only planets close to us cannot sustain life," he said. He eyed Jim apprehensively.
Jim sighed. He really should have restrained his temper. His Alpha crew looked a little traumatized. "It's all right, Spock. We'll find a place for the Tribble." He handed the baby to Spock who took it and automatically began gently stroking the soft fur. "Sir, I will take the Tribble to my cabin and find a box to put him in. He will not bother you again."
"Just find a place for it, Spock," he sighed again tiredly. "The sooner the better. Now if everyone will please leave my quarters I want to get some sleep." He watched as they all trickled out, all except Scotty and Spock.
"Yes, Mr. Scott?"
"I'm waiting, Sir."
"For what, Scotty?"
"Well, Sir, to learn what my punishment will be, Sir."
"Oh, for Pete's sake, Scotty," said Jim in exasperation. "Go back to bed. This whole fiasco of an evening is best forgotten. There will be no punishment."
Scotty grinned. "Aye, Sir. Thank ye, Captain; and I apologize for ma outburst, Sir."
"All right, Scotty. Good night."
Jim hoped with all his heart that this day would soon be over as he turned to Spock. "Guess I over reacted a bit, Spock," he smiled sheepishly at his patient and long suffering First Officer.
"Yes, Jim."
"Let's hit the sack, Spock. I'm dead tired. Let me know tomorrow where the Tribble is going. Good night."
"Good night, Jim," said Spock, holding the baby Tribble tenderly in his hands.
Jim shook his head as the bathroom door closed behind Spock. He was asleep in two seconds.
In the morning Jim knocked at Spock's connecting door.
"Come in, Captain."
"Good morning, Mr. Spock. How is our guest this morning?" Jim smiled his sunshine smile, his usual good temper restored after a great night's sleep.
"The baby Tribble is doing well, Captain. However, I must report that I have not found an uninhabited planet that will sustain life anywhere near the current Enterprise's position. "
Jim frowned. "Well, Mr. Spock, then widen your search. I'm sure Star Fleet would not object to a short detour, considering the danger of Tribble reproduction in an inhabited planet. Needs must as they say, Spock, and we must!" Jim spoke with strong emphasis. "Understood, Mr. Spock?"
"Understood, Captain."
"I have to get to the bridge soon and I'm hungry. Are you coming to breakfast, Spock?"
"Negative, Sir. I will continue my search for a suitable habitat for the baby Tribble."
Jim didn't see Spock until lunch time. He made his way to the Mess and spotted the tall lithe figure of his First Officer in the corner of their usual table. McCoy was with him and their heads were close together, deep in conversation. Jim wished he could think they weren't talking about him, but chances of that were pretty slim, he thought ruefully, especially after his behavior last night.
"Spock, Bones." He set his tray down, sat next to Bones and looked inquiringly at Spock. "Any luck, Spock? And have we determined how this Tribble stayed on board the ship?"
"No Sir, that remains a mystery. Mr. Scott and I have not come up with a reasonable explanation, other than that somehow the level 1 scan missed a very tiny Tribble. We will investigate further, but I am not sanguine that we will find the answer. However, I have found a safe place for our passenger, Jim."
"Ah; excellent news, Spock. Where is this safe place?"
"Vulcan, Jim."
"VULCAN! Spock, are you crazy, we can't take a Tribble to Vulcan! Think of the ramifications, the danger, and the political mess. Impossible, Mr. Spock!"
"It is all arranged, Jim. I spoke to my mother and explained the situation to her. She agreed that killing the baby Tribble was not a viable option. She has agreed to keep the baby for an indefinite period of time. I explained the parameters of the care and feeding of Tribbles very carefully to her. She has agreed to keep it caged, never let it out of the cage, and feed it only very occasionally and very little. It will not reproduce if it is minimally fed. I impressed upon her the great importance of this last."
"But Spock," Jim was flabbergasted, "what does your father say?" Jim's mind boggled at the thought of Sarek and a Tribble in the same house.
"My father is not on Vulcan at this time, Jim. He is in San Francisco on Ambassadorial business. By the time he returns the Tribble's home will be, as you would say, "a done deal." My mother says she will take care of Sarek; he will be occupied doing other things, she said." He paused, puzzled. "I am not quite sure what those other things will be, but Amanda is sure it will not be an issue and Sarek will not object."
Jim ducked his head to hide his smile. Be it far from him to enlighten Spock about his mother and his father doing other things.
"Well, if you're sure it'll be all right Spock, who am I to object. Bones, what do you think?" Jim looked dubiously at Bones.
'As long as the Tribble is contained and not fed often, it will be fine, Jim."
And so it was. Jim's mighty ship made a short detour into Vulcan space and parked within transporter range. Jim met Spock in the transporter room. Spock held a small translucent box with the baby Tribble in it. Jim inspected the box, it looked pretty secure to him.
"Otis and I will transport down, Jim. I will return within the hour."
"Otis?" Jim looked dazedly at Spock.
"I named the baby Tribble Otis, Jim. It is only logical that he have a name. My mother cannot just call him Tribble. On Vulcan every living being must have a name." Spock spoke with great seriousness.
"Um, yes, I see, Spock." Jim wondered briefly if he was in some kind of alternate universe. Was he really having a conversation with Spock about a Tribble named Otis?
Spock stepped up to the transporter pad, said, "Energize," and he and Otis disappeared. Jim walked slowly out of the room. Good thing he was off duty now, he needed a stiff drink. He went in search for Bones. Hopefully he also was off duty.
Jim and Bones were relaxing in the Captain's quarters with drinks in hand when Spock came in. "Spock! You're back! How did it go?" Jim raised his glass to the Vulcan inquiringly.
Spock nodded. He very seldom drank, but the successful conclusion of the baby Tribble crisis seemed to be an occasion to have one small drink with his Captain and the doctor.
"How is your mama, Spock? Hope you told her hi from us." Bones was very fond of Amanda. She had earned his affection and respect on their Journey to Babel.
"She is very well, Doctor. We had a short but gratifying visit after I left Otis in her care. She too, asked me to give you and the Captain her regards."
"So she was OK with keeping…. Otis?" Jim had a hard time getting Otis' name out without a chuckle.
"Yes, Captain. Otis has a good home now, and I will see Otis again next time I have leave. My mother told me something curious, a phrase I was not familiar with."
"What was that, Spock?"
"She said that although she had custody of Otis, that I should visit him when I can because I have "visitation rights." I will research that phrase."
Spock looked over at Jim and the Doctor; he was totally perplexed. They were both bent over whooping with laughter. He sighed. He would never understand humans.
The End