I'm back! It's been a little while since posting here, but I've been hard at work. I recently finished all of the TOS episodes, and I was interested in the experience of rebooting one of them. My favorite episode is Journey to Babel, so it seemed only logical to use that one! I wrote with a transcript next to me, so most of the lines are directly from the episode-however, I've added some scenes and changed some dialogue to fit circumstance and the nuances of the reboot characters.

I love this episode because it explores such fascinating aspects of Spock's character and his relation to his father and the human world. I hope to expand on that and flesh out some other angles (especially in the light of his mother not being present in this reboot verse).

It's been a fun, sometimes challenging, interesting experience. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Rated T for mild language and violence. Takes place after Into Darkness, mild spoilers.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek.

"How do I look?"

Bones shot Jim a semi-disgusted look as the other man flashed an overpowering smile.

"Like an idiot, as usual," the doctor said. "Just dressed slightly better."

Jim turned to the mirror once more and smoothed down a few more wrinkles in his dress uniform. The material was much less comfortable than his usual attire, and more constricting. Apart from the transportation of an ambassador a few months prior, there had been little cause for pulling out the fancy clothes. They had lain wrinkled in a bottom drawer of Jim's quarters until minutes before, and they certainly looked it.

As Jim finished primping himself in the mirror, Bones fidgeted with his own collar agitatedly. "Dress uniforms, spit and polish. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to stand this." He frowned. "I feel like my neck's in a sling."

At this, Jim turned from the mirror and clapped one hand on Bones' shoulder, a familiar gesture of over-enthusiastic comfort that did nothing for nerves. "Lighten up, Bones. The Vulcans are the last delegates we have to pick up. As soon as we get them aboard, we'll be able to relax."

He strode past Bones to the door and it swished open without hesitation. Bones followed him out into the corridor beyond, where other crewmembers occasionally walked past. They all looked just as uncomfortable as Bones felt. The air of importance and dignity that arrived with the delegates permeated every inch of the starship, putting off even the lowliest of workers.

It was suffocating, Bones thought.

"Sure," he said, nodding to an Ensign that scurried past. "A formal reception tonight, a hundred and fourteen delegates aboard for two weeks…a few of them ambassadors..."

As if on cue, an ever-stoic Vulcan appeared from a side passageway, harsh hallway lighting accentuating the green flush in his cheeks. Spock fell into stride with Jim and Bones, fitting in to their formation with such ease as completing a puzzle.

"...half of them mad at the other half," Bones continued, "and the whole lot of them touchier than a raw antimatter pile over this Coridan question."

He didn't have to look to sense Spock's raised eyebrow. Doubtless the Vulcan had put together the pieces of the conversation already.

However, before he could interject, an intercom on the wall ahead of them whistled. Shooting a hard glance at Bones, Jim walked up to the intercom and thumbed the button. "Kirk here."

The high, thickly-accented voice of Chekov filtered through the intercom.

"Shuttlecraft approaching with Ambassador Sarek's party, Keptin."

Although the Ensign could not see him, Jim nodded. "Bring them aboard, Mr. Chekov."

"Standby to recover shuttlecraft. Honour guard to ze hangar deck."

"Thanks, Chekov," Jim said. He paused, gathering himself. "Kirk out."

He severed the connection and looked up at his two companions. His attempt at a smile was less than reassuring.

"Well?" he said. "Shall we?"

The hangar deck was static with a nervous energy. The honor guard stood at fierce attention, phasers in hand, arms crossed. A few nodded at Jim as he approached, but most seemed to be fighting a stiff anxiety. Jim didn't blame them; so many delegates in one confined location could be a risky business, and exceptionally good behavior was expected from everyone on board. The delegates from New Vulcan were especially revered, considering the events of two years ago.

Bones glanced upward at nothing in particular as a computerized voice sounded around them. Clear hangar deck. Clear hangar deck. Depressurizing. Recovering shuttlecraft. Hangar deck pressurizing.

"Hey, Spock?" he said uncertainly. "How does that Vulcan salute go again?"

"It's quite simple, Doctor," Spock said, raising his hand. His fingers parted into the traditional V shape, unwavering through a lifetime of practice. Bones attempted the same gesture, but his fingers shook and refused to join.

"That hurts worse than the uniform," he jibed. "I'm gonna have to glue them together just to say hello."

Just as they reached the main doors, a figure in red trotted up to them and fell in beside Spock. The Vulcan reacted with as much shock as his heritage would allow.

"Nyota?" he said softly, eyes darting to the hangar doors. "What is the matter?"

The Lietenant smiled up at him. "What do you think? I came to greet the Vulcan party."

Spock looked around once more. "You are aware, of course, that my father is on board?"

The confusion at Spock's reaction began leaking onto Uhura's face. "Of course. That's why I'm here. To greet him with you."

"I am not sure that is the wisest course of action," Spock said.

This time it was Uhura who was taken aback. "And why not? Is there something wrong with me?"

"He is not aware—"

Before he could finish his sentence, the doors slid open. The honor guard snapped to attention in unison. Stepping out, in traditional robes of Vulcan and with a tangible air of importance, was Spock's father. He surveyed the greeting party solemnly, his eyes remarkably clear for one so lined by experience and age.

"Ambassador Sarek." Jim was the first to speak, stepping forward and displaying the Vulcan salute with an ease that could only come from his time with a Vulcan First Officer. "Welcome aboard."

"Thank you, Captain." Sarek returned the gesture. Though they had conversed briefly following the Narada incident, the tension and uncertainty between the two was tangible. Bones watched with a doctor's perception as sweat began to collect on the back of Jim's neck, just above the uniform collar.

"I hope you find your stay agreeable," Jim continued, his tone tinged with an attempted lightness. He swallowed and turned to the rest of the Enterprise party. "Chief Medical Officer Doctor McCoy. You may have met."

"Briefly," Sarek said with a nod.

Bones dipped his head. "Ambassador." He considered raising his hand in the Vulcan salute as well, but he could still feel the trembling in his awkward previous attempt. Better not.

"And this," Jim said, extending an arm to Uhura, "is our head of communications, Lieutenant Uhura. Perhaps you have made her acquaintance as well."

"I have not," Sarek said. Instantly Bones knew something was wrong—the way Sarek looked at her, the hardness and distrust in his eyes, the way his gaze flicked momentarily to Spock...

"Ambassador," Uhura said with a polite smile. "It is an honor to finally meet you. Spock has told me so much about you."

"Has he?" Sarek said coldly.

Bones wanted to say something, to stop Uhura from speaking, but if she caught any of the hostility, she pushed through it. "Why—of course."

"And to what end are you in his company for such periods of time?"

Then it hit Uhura, just as it hit Bones. The Lieutenant's face flushed with realization. Beside her, Spock tightened.

Sarek hadn't known of their relationship.

Without flinching, Spock finally spoke. His voice was low, his eyes flicking around the room at the other occupants of the deck.

"Father, Nyota and I are...romantically engaged. We have been for some time now."

With the slightest drawing in of the lips, Sarek looked him up and down. "I see."

The tension rose, peaked, and threatened to crush everyone in the immediate vicinity. Spock and Sarek remained locked in a battle of wills, each resistant to the other's stares.

As usual, it was Jim who broke the silence.

"Well, I think this is going to be a very interesting trip." He shifted his weight, the only visible sign of his discomfort reflected in his raised eyebrows.

Also, if Bones wasn't mistaken—was that a hint of amusement in his eyes?

That little shit.

"Can I show you to your quarters?"

Thanks so much for reading; hope to see you back for more! Let me know what you think: of the concept, the execution, etc. I love hearing from you all.

Stay tuned for more!

-Penn