Title: A Celebration in Infinite Combinations
Characters: Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Uhura, Scotty, Nurse Chapel, various canon and OCs
Pairings: Maybe at some point Scotty/Uhura and unrequited Chapel/Spock, but nothing overt - you know me
Rating: K+ for violence, etc.
Summary: The first year of the five-year mission is a critical time for the crew of the starship Enterprise. A new chain of command, a new crew; and a new captain who must prove himself to both - all must work together and learn to function, not as a crew, but as a family.
Warnings/Spoilers: Liberties with early TOS canon, nothing beyond the usual. Spoilers and specifics are footnoted.
A/N: Twelve mini story arcs revolving around twelve sets of characters, all converging in the last chapter. Holiday and gift-giving themed story; every even chapter containing main characters and odd containing minor characters with nods at main characters. This is definitely a character exploration piece, with a holiday flavor - because we all need more holiday fluff and hope this time of year. It's a fair deviation from my usual triumvirate-oriented fic, but then I believe that's what NaNo really should be; an exploration of ability and deepening of character development. It's not totally OCs, though, for anyone who is hitting the backspace button right now; every other chapter is our own favorites. :) Also, this is obviously not a final final draft.
A/N2: I've begun posting this now, frankly because my NaNo muse has died under the strain of working overtime in holiday retail, and I need the feedback to prod it back into action in the seven days I have left to write almost 30,000 words. (yeah, I can dream, can't I?) :(

Prologue

James Tiberius Kirk was, by all accounts, an unusual man. He was a shooting star in the cosmos of Starfleet, one of the brightest and best all planets had to offer. At the age of thirty-one, he received captaincy of the NCC-1701, the U.S.S. Enterprise, earning a place in Earth's history as the youngest starship captain in the history of the Federation. No one, new crew and Pike's remaining crew alike, knew what to expect when he beamed aboard to take command of the vessel.

Whatever they had speculated would occur after the usual fanfare had died away, it was certainly not the bright smile, almost child-like in excitement, which greeted them, along with a rapid-fire series of greetings which left them all staring at the energetic human.

"Thank you, gentlemen. Mr. Mitchell, everything ready for departure?"

"Aye, sir," the First flipped a sloppy salute at the man, earning him a disapproving Vulcan eyebrow.

Kirk dismissed him with a nod. "Mr. Spock," he greeted, turning to the austere Vulcan. "I've found," and he looked ruefully down at his hand, "that I am apparently physically incapable of forming the gesture of greeting your people use to show respect. You'll simply have to take my word for it, Commander, that I've heard a great deal about you and I am honored you decided to remain aboard rather than transferring with many of Captain Pike's crew."

Montgomery Scott, the only senior officer aboard who had known the young Science Officer during Pike's command, saw the surprise register in the dark eyes before the bland, expressionless mask fell back into place.

"The honor is to serve, Captain Kirk."

Kirk nodded, and glanced at the wide-eyed young transporter operator and honor guard. "Mr. Garrovick, Mr. Tomlinson, Mr. Sukova-Tripana, welcome to the Enterprise; I trust you'll enjoy your posting. Mr. Scott, I'd like a tour of the engine room if you've nothing pressing?"

"Captain," Mitchell interrupted, rolling his eyes at the ensigns' dumbfounded expressions at the captain knowing their names. "Don't you want to unpack and have something to eat first?"

"Later, Gary, later. I've got things to see!" The human grinned, waving both hands eagerly as he backed out of the room after a thoroughly bemused Chief Engineer.

After the doors closed, the small group looked at each other, blinking.

"He knew my name," Sukova-Tripana muttered, staring at the closed door. "I've served on three ships before this one and no one ever did say my name correctly."

Gary Mitchell yawned and excused himself shortly after. The inter-comm chirped as he left, and Garrovick punched the button. "Transporter Room."

"Scott here, Mr. Garrovick. The captain would like his things to be taken to his quarters, laddie; just two boxes, coordinates zero-one-one-alpha-one-eight over one-four-four-three-four-alpha-nine."

"Aye, sir. Material being transported?"

"Nothing organic; he says they're just books. No special precautions – Captain! Sir, please dinna touch that!"

"Oh, come on, Mr. Scott," the human's voice sounded from further away from the comm. "I minored in Engineering at the Academy; I'm not likely to blow up my own ship on my first day."

"Your ship! With all due respect, sir –"

"Oh ho, ownership issues already, Chief Engineer? And I say, this modification here certainly isn't regulation; what Orion pirate did you confiscate that from?"

Faint laughter, and the channel closed abruptly without further instructions.

"As you were, gentlemen," Spock intoned gravely, and the bug-eyed ensigns scrambled to obey their severe Science Officer.

Just the same, as he beamed up two ordinary containers from the coordinates given to him, Garrovick sent a sidelong look toward his mate. "Minored in Engineering? And these crates are full of books?"

"Saints preserve us," was the devout mutter he received in answer, and then they set to work.

Word spreads quickly on a starship, and the Enterprise was well-equipped with one of the biggest gossip chains in the 'Fleet. Before they'd cleared spacedock, everyone aboard was aware of the fact that their captain was not what anyone had expected. His first night aboard, Kirk appropriated the ship-wide comm to inform the crew that he wasn't some pompous stuffed shirt and for heaven's sake stop the saluting in the corridors, it interfered with efficiency. The second week he vetoed the regulation of repeating orders across the Bridge, informing a thoroughly aghast Commander Spock that they made his head spin, and anyway if a crewman couldn't listen well enough the first time then he didn't deserve to be on alpha shift bridge duty.

The third month he was aboard, he pitched a fit in Rec Room Four over the fact that the meal selectors on board had only four non-traditional Terran options programmed, and proceeded to tear the casing off and re-program the selector in question as demonstration for a dozen gaping Engineering and Recreational Programming crewmen. Spock watched in fascination from the door as the young human popped back up from his tinkering. A cheerful "Andorian sugar loaf, anyone?" accompanied by the chime of a completed meal selection, and the room broke into delighted applause followed by a clamor of requests for all sorts of meals, Terran or otherwise, which unfortunately left him the job of extricating the smug human from the fray.

Two weeks later, Kirk disappeared one evening after mess, and when Lieutenant Hadley of Environmental Control finally located him four hours later with a requisition which needed immediate signature, he found the young captain buried deep in Botany Lab Three, sprawled on the small plot of reproduced Terran grass-and-daisy mix, nose buried deep in an old, paperbound novel. The lieutenant only shook his head at the rueful greeting and explanatory "raised on a farm, you know," he received, and was pleased to have a story to tell at the lower decks' poker night the following evening.

The sixth month of the man's captaincy, the command structure underwent major upheaval with the death of First Officer Gary Mitchell, the terrible stigma of which extinguished some of that youthful light and energy for a time as the crew, and their captain, reeled in the wake of tragedy. Personnel were shifted, and some of them transferred, having seen the Great Barrier and wanting no part of the Federation's trouble magnet of a flagship. The chain of command morphed into a close-knit knot of people whose sole goal was to prevent what had happened on their shakedown from ever happening again.

For a few weeks following the inception of their actual mission, the Enterprise was relatively calm; and then with the addition of Leonard McCoy as Chief Medical Officer the tranquility – and the slightly subdued personality of their captain – was shattered into a thousand pieces and flung all across the galaxy. The CMO was good for the young captain, bringing out that unique energy which characterized Kirk's rise through the ranks, and within six months the ship was again running half on warp power, half on the charisma of her commander.

Which was why, nine months after their launch, no one was at all surprised to learn that the captain had some insane scheme in the works for the Terran holiday season.

"Jim, that's lame," was McCoy's typically unenthusiastic response, and while Kirk didn't think his First was any more thrilled with the idea the Vulcan took his side half out of loyalty and half out of desire to be contrary toward their Chief Medical Officer.

"I do not believe so," the Vulcan mused, studying the psychological readouts before him. "Statistically speaking, it is a proven fact that most humans' psychological profiles dip downward during the holiday season, due to the emotion which I believe is known as homesickness."

"I'm not arguin' that point," McCoy muttered gracelessly. "But honestly, Jim – a Secret Santa gift exchange?"

"We're not an old ladies' knitting circle, so stop calling it that, Bones," the captain retorted, scowling. "I'd just like to see it be more of an activity to stop these little cliques I'm seeing popping up all over the ship. If we have it sufficiently randomized, then it will force the crew to interact with those whom they normally don't socialize with. Cliques detract from a spirit of unity, of camaraderie, and they have no place aboard a starship. Spock, you can program the computer to pair up people who don't usually see much of each other, can't you?"

"Affirmative."

"You're not going to have everybody happy about it. Some of the crew don't even celebrate Christmas, Jim, and that's their right."

"That's why I'm not making it mandatory, and I'm not calling it a Christmas gift exchange," the captain explained, waving a hand in the air to emphasize his point. "It'll be voluntary, and it'll just be an exercise to create a spirit of family among the crew. Let's face it, gentlemen," he added soberly. "For the next five years, this is our family. Male and female and neutral-gender, human and Vulcan and all those in-between – we are a family now. And if we don't work to keep that, we'll never be able to live with each other for five years."

His impassioned plea earned him two identical raised eyebrows on either side of the table, before the two beings he had grown in nine months to trust with his life and his ship exchanged a cautious look.

"Well, it can't hurt anything; will probably do some good, actually," McCoy finally agreed as a rare grin lit up his face, reaching all the way to his eyes. "Though I feel bad for whatever poor soul you draw in the exchange, Spock."

"You don't have to participate, Spock; it's hardly a Vulcan tradition," the captain was quick to interject.

Spock's eyebrow rose a fraction. "Any holiday, Terran in origin or otherwise, which engenders a spirit of compassion and peace, is quite laudable, Captain. I have no objections to the traditions associated with such a holiday."

Kirk fairly beamed, and McCoy hid his smile, knowing full well how much the captain seemed to rely on Vulcan approval for pretty much anything aboard.

"Besides," the Vulcan continued, as he swiveled a computer screen toward him and began tapping commands into the central core, "to refuse to participate would, I believe, defeat your purpose in fostering a spirit of camaraderie amongst the crew, Captain; would it not?"

"It would," McCoy interjected, smirking. "So by that same logic we can expect to see you at the annual Christmas/Solstice party, now can't we."

Spock's brows clenched fearsomely, while the captain clapped in utter glee. "He's got you there, Spock."

"Captain –"

"We'll talk about it when the time comes," the man chuckled, standing. "If you'll let me know when that program is completed, I'll alert the crew to the plan. I think two months is plenty of time for them to get to know their recipient and decide upon a gift, you think?"

"Quite. I shall forward you the access codes when it is complete; once distributed, each crewman need only access the Enterprise's computer banks under the Holiday Observances folder to be assigned a recipient."

"Great. Doctor, anything to add?"

"Make sure you limit the program parameters to those who want to participate, Spock, so we don't end up with someone giving a gift and not getting one in return," the man answered, glancing at the busily-typing Vulcan. "And we still have to go over those psych evals for the lower decks, Captain."

"Right, let's get started then," the captain declared, moving toward the door. McCoy followed close at his heels. "Oh, dinner still on for tonight, Mr. Spock?" Kirk added, pausing before the doors.

"Affirmative." The tone was expressionless, and the Vulcan never even looked up; and yet Kirk grinned as if he'd been granted the deed to the moon.

McCoy rolled his eyes as he followed the captain out, and only hoped whoever drew Spock's name got him something so utterly illogical Spock would be ashamed to keep it around.