Jim's nervousness increased as they approached New Vulcan. Vulcans made him nervous. He supposed he had a right to be nervous; after all, Spock had made perfectly clear what he thought about Kirk's insults back on the first day they'd met, at the expense of Jim's throat. But Vulcans could be really cool, too—like Spock was after he got older. Maybe Jim only liked older half-Vulcans; maybe that was the problem.

Jim cast a glance at the current timeline's Spock, manning the scanner at his science station. He wondered when the coolness factor would start to kick in. True, young Spock was a lot more relaxed after his vacation. But he still was an amazingly uptight individual. He didn't seem to "do" friendship. It seemed that, whenever Jim made an overture, Spock used it as an opportunity to prove just how emotionless he could be. He had a lot of personal demons to settle, that guy. Maybe he'd loosen up a little after the dust from his recent upheavals settled. Jim hoped so.

"Entering visual range," Sulu reported from the helm.

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu." Jim turned in his chair towards the rear of the bridge. "We're visual, Mr. Spock."

Spock did not take his gaze from the scanner. "Thank you, Captain."

Huh. Not even a glance at the forward screen. Clearly, Spock was using the approach to New Vulcan as yet another opportunity to prove that he didn't get excited about anything. This was the reason so many humans found Vulcans so frustrating. Well, Jim wasn't going to fall for it. He turned back around, determined not to let his First Officer's behavior get to him.

"Magnification four, Mr. Chekov."

"Magnification four," the navigator responded.

The dot resolved itself into a disk. The planet was tanner than Vulcan had been, with more brown and less red. It also had a lot more blue. Kirk knew that the oceans were nearly as salty as the Dead Sea back on Earth, but he couldn't help thinking that a planet with more available surface water had to be a gain.

"It looks... suitable," Uhura said from her station.

"It was the best that could be adapted within the allotted time," Spock replied, still not looking up. "There are noticeable differences in the composition of the atmosphere and proportion of landmass to water. The gravity, however, is nearly exact."

"That had to be the most important factor, then, as the other aspects can be modified over time—can't they?"

"Correct. The terraforming process will take some effort, but I believe it is an achievable goal."

Jim noticed how Uhura had avoided making any emotional observations—probably out of deference to Spock's mood. And what a strange mood it was. Although he looked relaxed—well, about as relaxed as Spock normally got—Jim sensed an increasing tension that hadn't been present earlier in his shift. Determined to barrel right in where angels fear to tread, he asked, "Are you planning to meet with anyone on the planet's surface, Mr. Spock?"

Those scanner readouts must have been really absorbing. Spock said (gaze fixed on his equipment), "I have made no arrangements to beam down."

"Shouldn't you? I mean, this kashek-shoret wak thing is going on, right? Shouldn't you be a part of that?"

"If they had wished my attendance, I would have been notified."

Jim furrowed his brows. Was Spock being slighted? Was that the reason for his curious behavior? "I wasn't aware that the kashek-shoret wak was an invitation-only event."

Spock went still for the briefest of moments. Yet his response, when he answered, was in the same measured tones. "It is not 'invitation-only'."

"Then why don't you put in an appearance? It would only be polite. We can easily wait for you while you pop down there and say hello."

"I do not believe 'popping' would be an appropriate behavior on this occasion. Some other time would be more suitable for a visit to New Vulcan."

The notion of Spock visiting New Vulcan was a disturbing one on several levels. First and foremost was the worry that Spock would decide that his duty to his people outweighed his duty to Starfleet, and Jim would be out his most valuable officer. Also, Jim couldn't help wondering whether Old Spock would be in attendance. He supposed he probably would be. But the elder Spock was a canny old gent; he would learn about the Enterprise's arrival, and make himself scarce to avoid running into his counterpart in this timeline.

But neither of these concerns carried any real weight. Jim was actually more concerned about Spock's shrinking family. He decided to come right out and say it. "Would you like to contact your dad? This might be your only chance to give him a personal farewell before we head off to parts unknown."

"My father is perfectly capable of reaching me through subspace channels if communication is desired, Captain."

"All right. It was just a suggestion." Kirk let his command chair spin back around to face forward. He found Sulu sending him an amused glance over his shoulder. Kirk barely lifted a shoulder in response. Grinning, the helmsman looked away. Kirk shook his head, not sure if he'd ever understand Vulcans and their enigmatic ways.

Uhura spoke quietly from her station. "I have the beacon, sir."

Jim straightened up, shaking off his mood. "Great. Let's hear it."

Uhura did something, and the mechanical voice of a female Vulcan filled the bridge.

"Enterprise. Welcome to New Vulcan. Your assistance in returning the stolen artifacts is appreciated."

"It's our pleasure, New Vulcan."

"We are transmitting the coordinates of our secure storage area. Signal us when you are ready to beam down the articles, and we will lower the force field. We appreciate your cooperation. Space Central, out."

The audio connection dropped.

"Short and sweet," Jim observed aloud. Then, perversely drawn toward needling the impassive Spock, he added, "Very efficient."

Needless to say, Spock did not respond.

"Coordinates received," Chekov reported.

"Fine. Plot a synchronous orbit."

"Aye, sir."

Jim looked back at Uhura. "Signal our compliance, Lieutenant."

Uhura shook her head. "They closed the channel, sir."

Jim frowned. "That's odd."

"They did tell us earlier that they wanted to handle all transactions remotely," Uhura reminded him.

"We're 30,000 kilometers above their atmosphere. That's pretty damn remote."

Uhura gave him an arch look that clearly meant, You know Vulcans. Unfortunately, Jim didn't feel he knew them at all. There was logic and efficiency, but there was also Spock's tension. It was odd, and he wanted to probe a little more deeply into that, for Spock's sake.

"Can you get them back?"

"I'll try, sir."

"Captain," Spock's soft voice interjected. Jim turned his way, to find his First Officer actually looking at him over the top of the scanner. "There is little to be gained by reestablishing contact with New Vulcan."

"Spock, every spaceport in the Federation maintains an open channel during orbital approach."

"I am certain the ground station is tracking our approach."

"But I don't want to reestablish contact just for that. I want to—" Jim waved vaguely. "You know, tell them what we've got! How much room they'll need, and what kind of artifacts we'll be transferring down, and so on."

"I am confident that the personnel at the storage facility have already calculated the holding capacity of the Enterprise's cargo bay."

"But, your catalog— your handling instructions for some of the more delicate items..."

"With your permission, Captain, I will relay that information now."

"This isn't about information, Spock. It's about common courtesy."

Spock was giving him that look—that, What illogical human thing are you doing now? look. Jim hated that look. It made him feel stupid, and Jim wasn't stupid. Why were Vulcans always trying to make him feel stupid?

To his relief, Uhura interrupted. "I have Space Central, Captain."

"Great." Jim put up a hand toward Spock, indicating that the conversation wasn't finished. "New Vulcan!" Jim announced loudly, as he didn't know the name of the person he was addressing. "We have many rare artifacts in our possession. My First Officer has spent the last several days preparing these items for safe transport. I think you could benefit from hearing his recommendations."

There was a pause. "Your First Officer... Is Commander Spock aboard?"

"Yes. He's gone through everything and—"

"We had understood from your last communication that Commander Spock was on extended leave."

"He was, but he's back now, and he's got some information I really think you ought to consider." There was no response. "Hello? Space Central?"

Uhura reported from her station, "Transmission dropped, sir."

"What?" Jim's brows came down. "Now, that's just rude! Get her back."

Uhura jumped to it. "Working."

"Captain," Spock said softly.

"What?" Jim hadn't meant to sound so exasperated. He immediately softened his tone. "I'm sorry, Mr. Spock. What is it?"

"Personal communication would not be optimum at this time."

"Why?"

Spock hesitated. "It is important to minimize disruptive influences during kashek-shoret wak."

"You know what, Spock? I don't give two hoots about your kashek-shoret wak. No matter what's going on, they can still be civil. And my First Officer is not a disruptive influence!" Everyone on the bridge stared at him. "Usually, I mean."

"Sir," Spock began again.

Uhura interrupted at almost the same moment. "Captain." She flicked Spock an apologetic look. "I have Space Central again."

Jim wasted no time. "This is James T. Kirk aboard the starship Enterprise," he said loudly. "Who are you?"

"I am Stimm."

Jim blinked, surprised by the masculine tone. What had happened to the rude chick?

No matter. He regrouped and went on. "Stimm. We are carrying a shipment of irreplaceable Vulcan artifacts. My First Officer has amassed valuable information regarding the safe handling of these precious objects. I ask that you allow him to complete his assignment, and be allowed to supervise the offloading of our priceless cargo."

To his surprise, Stimm didn't answer directly, but merely said, "Spock," in a commanding tone.

"Is it safe for me to speak?" Spock replied, to Jim's growing amazement.

"Yes. Do you have the information?"

"I have prepared a file, ready for transmission."

"I will receive it."

"Understood." Spock looked at Jim. "Captain?"

Jim had been taken off guard by the Vulcan back and forth. Safe to speak? What the hell was that all about? "Yes?"

Spock nodded at his station. "May I transmit the file containing my handling instructions to New Vulcan?"

Jim chewed that over, then said firmly to the disembodied voice, "Stimm, I request that my First Officer be allowed to personally supervise the transport of cargo."

From the corner of his eye, Jim saw Spock stiffen.

"That would not be advisable," Stimm replied.

"Why not?"

"Personal communication would not be optimum at this time."

Jim started. What was it with these guys? Did all Vulcans go to the same phraseology school?

"Captain," the Vulcan spokesman continued, "the Enterprise agreed to handle this transaction remotely. We respectfully ask that you fulfill your part of the bargain."

"You didn't ask me," Jim argued. "You told me. And I'm telling you that my First Officer has spent significant time going through these artifacts, and only he can best assure their safe arrival."

Spock said softly—but loud enough for Space Central to hear, "Captain, sufficient information does exist in my detailed notes—"

"Your detailed notes are not the issue, Spock!" Jim addressed his next remark to the comm. "Listen, Stimm. I can understand why you don't want a flock of clueless humans stumbling through your kashek-shoret wak, but what's wrong with Spock? He understands what's going on—even if he won't tell us about it."

"Captain Kirk," said Stimm grimly, "under no circumstances are you to permit Commander Spock to beam down. If you do, we will be forced to take measures."