T'hy'la
Kitara Manoru
Disclaimer: Created by Roddenberry and owned by Paramount. No profit being made here.
Summary: Early in the first mission, the Enterprise visits the homeworld of the Conqui in follow-up to a first contact. Things do not go as planned, and Spock finds himself pondering his reaction to his new captain's peril. K&S friendship.
A/N: Set a few months after "Where No Man Has Gone Before" and taking into account details of Spock's childhood revealed in the animated series. This story should really be a longer affair, but it is what it is, so please take it in the spirit intended. I really just wanted to capture a moment.
I've waited 10 years to share any of my Trek fanfic, and 6 to share this one. So please be kind.
Illogical, but the five minutes seemed more like thirty to Spock. The Conqui had surrounded the landing party, outnumbering the six crewmembers two to one, disruptors set to kill, and diplomacy irrelevant. The Conqui subcommander held the Captain by the neck, her disruptor pointed at Kirk's head. Her trigger finger shook with apparent rage. Ten standard minutes, the subcommander had said, until their high priestess would arrive to evaluate the situation. Five silent minutes had passed as the Conqui stared at the Enterprise crew with obvious distrust and fury.
The Conqui ambassador had said the Messu Garden was a perfect beam-down spot. That the garden was holy ground only for the "purified" had not been mentioned. Logically, the ambassador wished all contact with the Federation to immediately cease. Now Spock had to assess this scared area in case fighting became necessary: a flat commons area, 20.3 meters by 19 meters. Thin, lavender trees, only three meters in height, with circular leaves. Eight-meter grey stone walls. Iron gate. No cover. One exit. Not promising.
Spock found his attention returned to the subcommander's shaking trigger finger. He knew Kirk was sizing up their captors, considering alternatives. The Conqui were orange-skinned, orange-haired humanoids with four arms and five-centimeter fangs. Fast, strong, and easily angered. Still, Kirk appeared confident despite the weapon aimed at his skull. Such a young captain—one who relied so heavily on intuition. However, Spock was developing trust in this human's judgment. In the past three months, since the transformation and deaths of Gary Mitchell and Elizabeth Denher, Spock's appreciation of the captain's abilities had nearly doubled—Spock estimated a slightly more precise 1.7 times. Unfortunately, Kirk's intuition had not helped him this time.
Spock considered the ambassador's possible motives for treachery. First contact with the Conqui, during which the Enterprise had met a Conqui ship, had gone well. A delegation of Conqui had beamed aboard the Enterprise for a session of cultural exchange. The Conqui were a private, highly religious matriarchy, however. They had hesitated before asking the Captain to visit their planet. Spock could not speculate on the specifics, but he suspected Ambassador I'rew's trick resulted from a religious belief or viewpoint.
The subcommander shifted her weight and tightened her grip on Kirk's neck. Spock watched the captain fight off a flinch of pain. For a moment, Spock analyzed his unusually intense attention to his captain's situation, testing his own reaction. But no, one had a duty to ensure the safety and continued existence of all crewmembers, especially one's captain. His concern was only logical.
Yet Spock felt tension throughout his body at the sight of the captain's predicament, and his breathing felt constricted. Why were his physical reactions betraying him? Granted, he and Kirk spent a great deal of time together; for example, he and his captain had developed a habit of playing chess together on an almost nightly basis. Kirk, in fact, seemed to enjoy the games, even look forward to them. Spock had to admit that this unprecedented experience was . . . pleasing. Plus the captain made a challenging partner.
And then two weeks earlier and shortly prior to first contact, the Enterprise had been assigned to help survey the Conqui's system. A team Vulcan scientists from the Intrepid had been studying the remains of a dead civilization on Conqui's sister planet, and Spock's meeting with the scientists had not gone well. Kirk had taken exception to the Vulcans' shunning of Spock. "If my best science officer does not meet your approval," he had informed them in a level voice, clenched fists hidden behind his back, "then logically our help would actually prove a detriment."
Spock had immediately squashed the irrational impulse to declare loyalty to his captain, especially since his duty to Starfleet already demanded loyalty.
The clicking of many Conqui sandals in the distance returned Spock's entire focus to the present. So the high priestess and her party were nearing. Two minutes remaining of the subcommander's estimate. The subcommander's grip was growing shakier. Spock felt his entire body primed for action. His gaze had not wavered from his captain and the subcommander. Despite Spock's self-analysis, the greater portion of his attention had never diverted from his captain, the landing party, and their captors. No one need die from the ambassador's treachery.
And the death of this captain would indeed be a great loss, Spock knew. He assured himself that such a sentiment was only logical, but the sensation that there was more to the thought nagged him. Spock had noticed that over the past 2.3 months the captain, despite his grief over the loss of his friend Gary, had begun paying closer and closer attention to what Spock said. Close attention in that way humans had, as if for some illogical reason they would listen to whatever you had to say just because you said it. And then there was the accompanying decrease of space when the captain stood by him—and the surprising fact that Spock didn't mind it. He had long observed that humans who were becoming friends started standing closer together. Did the captain consider him a friend? He, who was so disdained as a young child by his fellow classmates that they physically assaulted him? On rare occasions, Vulcans did develop close friendships where the friend was considered a sibling. From his earliest contact with his classmates, Spock had always considered the chances of his ever having a t'hy'la so remote as to be illogical to calculate.
The high priestess and her four-woman party entered the garden and stopped in front Kirk. "You, an off-worlder, dare to trespass on the scared grounds where only a quwe-level apostle may enter without special permission?"
Kirk met the priestess's angry gaze. "We did not know this was a sacred place. We were directed to beam down here by Ambassador I'rew. We would never—"
"Liar!" the subcommander hissed. Spock actually forgot to breathe as she depressed the trigger dangerously close the point of firing. The subcommander tightened her grip on the back of Kirk's neck once more, and with a grimace, Kirk inhaled sharply.
The high priestess turned to face Spock; the stiff fabric of her emerald robes rustled with a papery sound. She narrowed black eyes at him. "I have heard it said that Vulcans do not lie. Is this true?"
Spock regarded her solemnly. "Technically, I cannot answer your question either 'yes' or 'no'."
She inclined her head. "A reasonable answer. Tell me why your group has trespassed upon our holy ground."
"It is as the captain says. Ambassador I'rew directed us to transport to these coordinates. We were unaware that this was a sacred place. We certainly would not have chosen this spot had we known it was holy ground; given we are in diplomatic negotiations, we would not wish to cause any offense."
Twenty point five seconds passed as the priestess seemed to ponder Spock's statement. The subcommander faintly growled and pushed the end of the disruptor against Kirk's temple. Spock found himself giving more attention to the subcommander than the priestess.
"Very well." The priestess sighed as she turned to the subcommander. "Unhand Captain Kirk. We shall have to question I'rew instead."
The subcommander growled again but released the captain with a push. "You better hope your Vulcan is telling the truth, male."
The priestess held up two of her four hands in a quieting gesture. "It is all right, Subcommander." She faced Kirk. "I shall take you to a more proper place. Be advised, however, that if you are lying you will face dire consequences."
"I assure you, we tell the truth and have nothing to hide," Kirk said with his most charming grin.
The priestess simply nodded and waved for the Enterprise crewmembers to follow behind her party.
Kirk fell in step with Spock as they headed out of the garden. "Close call, wouldn't you say?" he whispered.
Spock raised an eyebrow in reply.
"If I didn't know better, I'd almost say you look relieved."
"Please, Captain. I am 'feeling' nothing."
"Of course." Kirk smiled that smile. The grin he had reserved for friends like Gary Mitchell. That smile? For Spock?
Spock decided he couldn't spare the time to analyze the incident.
A/N: Thank you to my reviewers!