Chapter 2: Priorities

The concept of sacrifice is drilled into every Starfleet recruit. During his first years aboard the Enterprise, Spock witnesses Captain Pike struggle to weigh the lives of crewmen against one another again and again. It is an ancient philosophy that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, but only when Jim Kirk takes on captaincy is Spock forced into a situation where the theory becomes practice.

He orders the three ensigns to evacuate the engineering deck and remains to locate the site of the phaser coolant leak. So near to the warp core, the coolant could cause a reaction that blows the entire ship apart. It is only logical that Spock stays; he is half-Vulcan. His stamina is greater than that of any human crewman and his lungs can take more breaths of the toxic gas before they fail. It is these extra breaths which give him time to locate and plug the leak. His death will be of use, he thinks as his lungs fill with poison and his muscles seize. His body will serve as a marker for the Captain and Chief Engineer Scott so they can carry out a more permanent, withstanding repair. The ship is safe. As his sight fails he thinks of Lyra. He wonders if she ever felt this peace.


He wakes, sluggish, in Sickbay. The unusual manner employed by Dr McCoy during the first blurry days of his recovery reveals how close he came to death. McCoy is a relatively recent addition to the ship, hired on the Captain's recommendation to replace the now-retired Dr Piper, and Spock has learnt quickly of his unorthodox and abrasive manner. Yet his tone when he informs Spock that his actions meant that no crewmen were killed or even injured is, Spock thinks, nearly kind.

When he no longer struggles to draw full breaths and the fatigue in his muscles is nearly wholly gone, Captain Kirk comes to visit. He brings the Tri-D chess board from the Rec Room.

"If you're up to it?" he offers. There is a wry half smile and a lingering worry in the Captain's eyes that Spock is too tired to decipher. "I need a break before I drown in all the Engineering repair reports."

"If these reports are numerous enough that one might drown in them, then a chess game seems only logical."

Kirk smiles and takes the Vulcan-joke-equivalent as a cue to set up the board. Halfway through the game which, as usual, has gone on longer than either man anticipated, Kirk looks Spock straight on and says, "Thank you for what you did. Your actions saved the ship and the lives of everyone aboard, at great personal risk."

"The cause was sufficient."

"But it's hard, putting your life lower on the priority list than anyone else's." Kirk's tone is gentle, understanding; what he is trying to understand, Spock does not know. "You will receive an official commendation of bravery, but there's more. I want to ask if you would be interesting in filling the post of First Officer permanently."

Spock blinks. He had replaced Gary Mitchell only because no other senior officer aboard could manage two roles at once and Starfleet had yet to find a suitable replacement. The thought of entering the command stream on a long-term basis is not something that has previously occurred to him.

Kirk takes his hesitation as a refusal, and pushes on, "You are a huge asset to this ship, Mr Spock, and the events of a few days ago proved that. I won't force you to accept the position, but I would be grateful if you would at least consider it. You would be serving the Enterprise doubly well."

Spock nods, an unusually human gesture. "Then I shall certainly consider it Captain."


The next morning Kirk receives Spock's official acceptance of the post, swiftly followed by the completed Engineering reports. Spock, back in his quarters, decides that sacrifice is a rare principle shared by Vulcan and by Starfleet. He has no overt wish to die. The ease with which he accepts the possibility of his death in order to save the lives of crewmen is simply a sign that he has, in one aspect of his life, successfully grafted both elements of his heritage.


"Bones, take care of him."

Spock mulls over his Captain's words. His heightened Vulcan hearing easily discerns McCoy pacing in his office, the occasional muttered curse cutting across the near-silent of sickbay. Spock does not blame the doctor for what has happened, but could not help himself from snapping at the Doctor's earlier ministrations. Vulcans are a fiercely independent race and humans even more so. Every part of Spock rebels at the thought of being a burden to be fussed over.

He knows, logically, that independence is something he can regain in time - his heightened Vulcan senses already give him an advantage in adapting to his condition - but he knows too that he will never serve in deep space again. One rushed medical procedure and his life has lost all relevance to the Enterprise.

During his years at Starfleet Academy, rumours of Lyra's suicide continued to circulate. Some claimed she overdosed on medication, others that she slit her wrists. The stories invariably escalated and mutated, and Spock never knew the precise manner of her death. Regardless, it would be easier for him. He has the power to slow his metabolism, heart-rate and breathing with the same ease that he can slip into a meditative trance. It would require concentration, yes, and he would be unable to do it in the Sickbay. The monitors would pick up his falling vital signs. In theory, if he were to wait until release to his own quarters-

"Sorry Spock, can you open your eyes for me?"

Spock starts violently. He had been so deep in thought he hadn't heard McCoy's approach. The Doctor does not comment on his lack of awareness and, as he tilts Spock's head gently towards the ceiling, Spock feels pity brush against his consciousness. Then he opens his eyes as requested and a bright, probing light bursts across his vision.

Spock blinks. Doctor McCoy's face is swimming blurrily into view. He blinks again. The face sharpens into focus. It is two inches from his own, tearstained and heavy with resignation; Spock lowers his mental shields a little further and feels, not entirely unfamiliar, uselessness seep through.

"Doctor McCoy." Eyes his mother would have called 'baby blue' flicker up to meet his, glistening. They freeze in a disbelieving stare. "I believe I may have neglected to consider the existence of the Vulcan inner-eyelid."


"Mister Spock. Regaining eyesight would be an emotional experience for most. You, I presume, felt nothing?"

"Quite the contrary, Captain. I had a very strong reaction." He keeps his mental shields lowered, lets the warmth and acceptance of Jim and McCoy and the Bridge Crew wash through him. "My first sight was the face of Doctor McCoy bending over me."

He does not mention Doctor McCoy's own, very emotional, reaction to his miraculous recovery and he also does not mention that his own reaction was, oddly enough, nothing but a faint sense of disappointment. Instead he anchors himself to the reactions of those around him - "best first officer in the fleet", McCoy says - and tries his best to move on from the experience. He is useful again; he must use his life to its best purpose in helping those who were so relieved at his recovery.


"Live long and prosper, Spock."

"I shall do neither." Emotion runs rampant inside of him still and somehow this gives the words to T'Pau more weight than if they were weighed and calculated behind his usual mental shields. "I have killed my Captain and my friend."

He tells them later, when it becomes clear Jim is not actually dead, that the madness of Pon Farr has passed. This transpires to be true, which he supposes is fortunate.

He wonders when the well-being of The Enterprise became so inextricably conflated with that of James Kirk.


He thinks often on the "priority list" Kirk referred to when offering him the permanent post of First Officer. During the Babel mission and all its complications, he resolves that his father's life is lower than that of his mother's, but both are lower than McCoy's (he notes with surprise) who in turn is below Jim's. Jim's stands on an equal footing to the lives of all those collectively aboard the Enterprise at any given time.

His own life, by this point, is not a consideration. McCoy puts his and his father's survival post-surgery down to "Vulcan stubbornness", but Spock can think of nothing else that could have been responsible save pure chance.


Both he and the Captain go on more planetside missions than regulation dictates, but none of the higher-ups question this on account of their repeated success. With each triumphant mission, each life-threatening risk that pays off, Spock's placement in his own ranking inches up a little higher. He has, he decides, been the benefit to the ship that Kirk had predicted. For the most part, thoughts of the "priority list" are kept at the back of his mind; the risks he takes are par for the Starfleet course, after all.


He is sure he is about to die, when the wrecked comm unit somehow manages to burst into life. Kirk is hailing his shuttlecraft. He should have predicted his Captain's stubbornness and tries in vain to dissuade him.

"Captain, I recommend you abandon the attempt. Do not risk the ship further on my behalf."

McCoy's voice is next to crackle through. "Shut up, Spock! We're rescuing you."

He almost believes himself grateful as he answers, "Why, thank you, Captain McCoy."


The Platonius mission changes everything. Spock's mental controls are in complete disarray and, a very first for him, he accepts Doctor McCoy's recommendation that he skip his shift and rest in his quarters. He does not meditate.

He might have killed Jim today. The same Vulcan mass, sinew, bone density and strength that has saved the life of so many aboard the Enterprise was nearly turned against Jim. And what would have happened then?

Their five-years in deep space is nearly over. Part of him, Spock realises, had assumed he would die before that happened. It wasn't that he wanted it, but statistically it was nearly a given; his risk-taking, Jim's foolhardy schemes and the nature of their work would allow him to reach no other conclusion. He had never considered what might happen after the mission as he had no idea that there would be an after. An after potentially with no Jim, no McCoy and no Enterprise; what else, then, was there?

Does it ever frighten you how big the universe is?

Spock had told Lyra that Vulcans were incapable of that emotion. With his shielding gone, he realises how wrong he had been. Reflecting on the nature of the emptiness and uncertainty before him, he does not only understand her fear, but feels it fill every aspect of his being. The universe is brimming with possibility, and nothing has ever terrified Spock more.

What, really, has he achieved? He has been First Officer of a Starship which will soon be out of his command. He has saved the lives of many crewmen who will inevitably die one day. He has attempted to stay true to the ways of Vulcan whilst living amongst humans and, not only has he failed in this, but he has failed too to adopt the culture of his human half. If he had died when Lyra did, in his first year at the Academy, would things be all that different?

This hopeless feeling is familiar. He thinks back to Deneva and the solution presents itself. He smiles over widely. His mouth should still ache from laughter forced from him hours ago, but he is numb to it. He recognises this euphoric feeling, the same Lyra had emanated in their last encounter. For the very first time, he can perceive the logic behind the choice she made.

He is not in Sickbay now. There are no monitors keeping track of him and no need to wait this time. He closes his eyes and slips into something deeper than meditation.