The second time was most definitely Jim's fault. This Christmas should have been perfect. They were in a layover in Earth orbit for a few days over the holiday period. While shore leave hadn't been universally approved, it was comforting just to be in orbit of home. But due to a mix up with the ship's kitchens there was not a fresh turkey to be found, and Starfleet would give no approval for the cost of last-minute turkey procurement.
That was how they found themselves in the current situation. The stench of shit was overwhelming. It wasn't just the shit. The urea that was mixed in made Jim's eyes water and his throat burn. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Spock with his acute senses. Add to that the heat of a thousand live turkey bodies and the constant clamour of clucking and gobbling, and it was like being in hell.
'Remind me, Spock, how we got into this situation?' Jim asked.
He was perched on a rail just to keep himself out of the shit and out of the way of sharp, aggressive turkey beaks as the males paraded around, gobbling and inflating themselves to ridiculous proportions. There was hardly room for the creatures to move in here, but they did their best.
'Are you sure you want me to, Jim?' Spock asked innocently.
Kirk snorted, but didn't answer, and Spock seemed to take that as an invitation.
'You suggested that real turkey would be desirable for Christmas Day on the Enterprise,' Spock began.
'Yes, yes, I know that,' Jim said impatiently.
'You discovered the location of this illegal factory farm and persuaded yourself that in the interest of animal welfare it would be acceptable to remove a portion of the birds, even though your intention was to kill and roast them.'
Jim groaned.
'On breaking in to the location your communicator dropped into the faeces on the floor and was rendered inert,' Spock continued. 'You had instructed me to travel without a communicator in order to minimise consequences if our movements were traced. On entering the barn you failed to chock the door – '
'I failed?' Jim interrupted, almost choking on his indignation. 'I failed?'
Spock's eyebrow rose smoothly. 'May I remind you, Jim, that I an a vegetarian? I also do not feel compelled to celebrate Christian holidays.'
Jim pushed his hands over his face and groaned again. 'Umpteen alien prison cells you've been in, Spock.'
'Umpteen is hardly a precise term, Jim,' Spock said.
Unlike Jim, Spock was still somehow immaculately clean. Jim just couldn't fathom it. How could the Vulcan walk into the poultry version of hell, and remain utterly, completely clean? He was like a cat.
'Umpteen times, Spock. You've been locked up and you've managed to crack yourself out somehow. And now we stuck in a barn – a barn of all places! And you fail to get us out!'
Spock shifted a little on the rail beside his captain. 'I am sure the ship will locate us soon,' he said.
'I told the ship not to track us,' Kirk sighed.
'In that case, since the feeding system here appears to be largely automated, it is entirely likely that we won't be discovered until the day following Christmas Day,' Spock opined. 'It is very doubtful, considering the neglect to which these birds are obviously subject, that anyone will come in here until the holiday period is over.'
Jim stared at him, a look of horror descending over his face. 'You mean – we're going to spend Christmas Day locked up in here with thousands of live turkeys? You mean, we could be holed up in my cabin spending time together for once, pop out for Christmas lunch with the crew, back to my cabin for – god, for an uninterrupted night together for the first Christmas we've both had booked off for years – and we're going to spend it here, eating turkey food, until some burly farmhand comes and opens the door and asks ever so politely why a human and a Vulcan are sheltering with his turkeys?'
Spock leant forward and kissed him. He didn't need to confirm what Jim had just said. That would only be rubbing it in.
