Disclaimer: Star Trek and all characters therein were created by Gene Roddenberry and the copyrights belong to Paramount and therefore Viacom. I couldn't possibly own them without huge amounts of money or time travel, neither of which I have yet managed to attain.
One Equal Temper
Three
The not quite uncomfortable silence that followed McCoy's exit seemed to devour anything even halfway intelligent Kirk might have come up with to say in the wake of the doctor's presence, so he swallowed the inanities that rose automatically to the tip of his tongue and the silence dragged on as Kirk studied Spock and tried to figure out what was going on in that brilliant head of his. For his part, Spock appeared to find the surface of his desk the most fascinating thing since the last sub-space anomaly.
Finally, Spock raised his head just enough to look past his desk at that point in the wall he'd been staring at so fixedly earlier. "Was the message relaying the doctor's concerns the only reason you wished to speak with me?" he asked.
"No," Kirk said honestly, with a half smile. "It was just my excuse so that you wouldn't . . . throw me right out again should you prove to not be in the mood to deal with your difficult, over-emotional, all-too human commanding officer." He tried to make eye contact with Spock again, tried to connect, tried another smile, felt it fall flat. "Not that I would blame you, but I'm more than your captain, I'm your friend. At least I like to think that I am. As a friend, and as a more experienced officer, in the area of losing people under one's command at least, I thought you might want someone to talk to. Frustrating as I may be."
"Frustration is a human emotion, Captain," Spock said after a moment.
"And I suppose you're going to say that so is friendship," Kirk broke in. He took a deep breath and told himself to blow his own frustration right back out with it. It wasn't Spock's fault that Kirk was having issues with this tendency of his at the moment. It was just the way he was, and if Kirk lost his temper with him over it he would be no better than the members of his crew whose actions were in question. Most of the time he relied on Spock's cool logic in the face of pressure. He couldn't praise the man for the trait when it pleased him and condemn him for it when it didn't; it wasn't fair. Kirk slid his hands together behind his back and clasped the fingers of one around the wrist of the other.
Spock looked away completely, and when he spoke again his voice was so hoarsely quiet that Kirk could barely make out the single word. "Yes." He got up, turned his back on Kirk as he started for the divider that split his quarters into two parts. His limp was painfully obvious.
"And what about guilt?" Kirk demanded. Spock stopped with one hand on the partition but didn't turn, and Kirk's frustration boiled up beneath the surface of his skin, a sudden burst of angry heat. "I'm talking to you, Mr. Spock!" he barked. "You will look at me while I do!"
He felt the very same emotion he'd just mentioned when Spock turned slowly, unwillingly, but turned, of course, because Kirk had ordered him to, and met his gaze. For a brief moment, the Vulcan's face was dark with exhaustion, and Kirk could see the lines of that weariness and perhaps something more, some shadow of emotion Spock would never have consciously admitted to written deep across his features. A moment later the control was back as if it had never slipped, even the weariness largely gone, buried somewhere beneath that iron control. God, Jim, Kirk thought with disgust at himself equally as intense as his previous irritation, bully him some more, why don't you. He came in here and asked Spock to talk to him as his friend, not his captain, and here he was throwing his rank in the other man's face. Beautiful. Flawless strategy. No doubt it would work perfectly. Sometimes he wanted to hit himself, he really did.
"Look, Spock, I—" he blew his breath out. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."
"No, Captain," Spock said, face and voice now a study in control. "It was not. On the contrary, I was disrespectful."
"I came here to be your friend, Spock, or . . . try to be," Kirk said. "You don't have to worry about being disrespectful to your friends." He gave a shaky grin and tried for a weak attempt at humor. "Just look at Bones." He hesitated. "Look, do you need anything? A new boot? I'll get it." He ducked around the partition at Spock's hesitant nod before the Vulcan could do anything to stop him, assuming the closet was located in the same place it was in his cabin. His assumption proved to be correct, and a second later he was handing Spock a new right boot, this one of the looser, off-duty variety.
"You are . . . very kind," Spock said. His voice had gone slightly unsteady. No, I'm not, Kirk thought, his stomach clenching with more guilt, not really. "But you are my captain first . . . Jim." A deep breath. "It is vital that I, your . . . first officer . . . show the proper respect for your position."
"Not in private, it's not. Who's going to be listening in, the ship's computer? I think I'll survive the challenge to my authority." He stepped forward, let impulse carry him. His hand closed around Spock's forearm. "Listen, I'm no expert on how Vulcans deal with things like this, but I do know that the preservation of sentient life is important to you, maybe more important to you than to anyone else on this ship, and that includes me. I know you're not taking this lightly. You're not that kind of man." Spock opened his mouth to protest, but before he could Kirk amended his wording. "Vulcan. Being. It doesn't matter, not now, not with this." He searched Spock's face, looking for some sign that his words were getting through. "And this, none of it, means that you have to deal with . . . any of it alone. I'm here. For you to talk to, if you want. Got it?"
Spock looked back at him for a long moment. He was still holding the boot in his hand. "And if I decline your offer of counsel and friendship, Captain?" he asked. His voice was even, grave. There was no indication as to what he was feeling, if anything at all.
Kirk dropped his hand, swallowed hard. That had hurt. No more than he deserved, he reminded himself. "Then I'll leave," he said. "But I'll still have to talk to you about this sometime. Doctor McCoy recommended an official reprimand for Lieutenant Boma for the insubordination he showed toward you while the shuttle party was stranded, and I'll need to get your opinion on that at least."
After everything he'd already tried, he wasn't really expecting that to get a reaction; it was just a simple statement of fact, but Spock's eyes widened and his body stiffened, he sucked in his breath. "Lieutenant . . .?" he started, but let his words trail off into nothing as if he were having difficulty processing what Kirk had said. "Captain, no! This I cannot allow." It was the most emotional reaction he'd gotten out of Spock since he'd walked into his quarters. Kirk stared at him as Spock barreled on. "You are allowing your . . . feelings of friendship for me to lead you to overlook my transgressions, my errors in judgment, to see failures in others that originated in me alone. Captain—Jim—it is I who should be on report. More than that, I should no longer be allowed to continue on in my position as the first officer of this ship. My abilities are . . . adequate to my post as science officer, perhaps that of second officer, the capacity in which I served Captain Pike, but no further. Lieutenant Boma described me as a—a machine, and I fear that in the essentials if not the specifics he was largely correct. The executive officer of the Enterprise, your executive officer, should be an officer capable of commanding others effectively, of connecting with them on an emotional level. This is a task to which I am manifestly ill-suited, as you very well know, and now you have seen the disaster I make of command. You cannot allow me to continue in my post merely because you feel friendship for me. That is not what I want. That is not why I began to allow us to become . . . close. I—"
"Spock," Kirk said. He could hear how gentle his voice had gone. Spock just continued on with his desperate tirade. "Spock!" Kirk said more loudly and reached out to grasp Spock's shoulders. "Stop this. Listen to me. It's not like that."
Spock wrenched away and stared at him, his breath coming just slightly faster, deeper. "It . . . is not?" he asked with a valiant attempt at his usual stoicism.
Kirk let his hands drop and then didn't quite know what to do with them. Long-ingrained military instinct brought them tight behind his back again. "Not at all," he said. "First, you're the best first officer I could ever have imagined for the Enterprise—" briefly he remembered Gary again, and the old twinge of pain and guilt and betrayal twisted his gut, but it was true, without a doubt it was true—"far better than I had any right to expect you to become when I first gave you the position. You've done an exemplary job. Secondly, the first officer's role is to support and complement the captain. Perhaps you do struggle to connect with the crew. Fine. I don't need someone to do that. I need you, to . . . question the logic of my decisions, to reexamine the emotionality of my reactions before I think to do it, to figure things out before the computer gets a chance at it, to remind me that we're out here to explore when I forget what I've been given this big beautiful ship for in the first place. Can't you see what a mess we'd all be in if you weren't here to say, 'Captain, that is most illogical' whenever I get off track or target-fixated? Don't try to deny that happens," he said as Spock opened his mouth. "It would be illogical to say that I never make mistakes, and on my better days I know exactly what they are." He sighed. "And I've never thought you were angling for a promotion by spending time with me. I do remember practically having to order you into taking the position in the first place, you know."
There was a long silence, broken only by Kirk's own heartbeat pounding in his ears and a trickle of sweat making its way down his back—god, it was hot in there—as his mind raced wildly back over everything he'd said, searching for any overly heated displays of emotion Spock would have found humiliating or glaring gaps in his own brand of logic, before Spock took a deep breath. The Vulcan's eyes closed, and he seemed to waver for a split second before he opened them again and was looking Kirk in the face, his own completely shuttered. He was still meeting his eyes, but Kirk could read nothing in his any longer. "Be that as it may," he said, "without my failures as a commander on the Murasaki 312 mission Lieutenants Latimer and Gaetano would still be alive."
"Maybe," Kirk said. He let his hands rest on his hips. "Maybe not. You're certainly right about one thing—I don't know enough about what happened out there to make that sort of decision with any accuracy. Why don't you . . . tell me what happened on that planet? Tell me everything, what makes you think you deserve a reprimand and Boma doesn't, all of it. And then make let me make my own decision." He finally tried another smile. "It's not that I don't trust your judgment, but deciding these things for myself is a captain's prerogative; wouldn't you agree?"
Spock blew his breath out, dropped his eyes. "Indeed," he said. "I . . . cannot deny the logic of your request."
Now the smile felt genuine. "No?" Kirk asked.
"No."
"Well, then, let's get started," Kirk said quickly as Spock's balance suddenly seemed to waver once more. "Just—sit down, all right?"
Spock just looked at him. Kirk recognized the expression. It was one he got from him every day on the bridge, a barely noticeable quirk of the eyebrow. Seeing it then seemed to bring home to him all in a rush that everything was back to normal, that he had his officers back, and it was Kirk's turn to steady himself against a tremor of relief that was hard to bury. "Captain," Spock said, "Relating the experiences of the Galileo mission team may take some time, and I am well aware that the environmental conditions in my quarters are not optimal for humans. Furthermore, I am afraid my cabin only contains one chair, the one accompanying my desk. Perhaps it would be best to remove to some more comfortable area beforehand."
More comfortable for him, maybe, Kirk thought, but not more comfortable for Spock, who was comfortable here, with the air too hot and red drapes in the background and . . . and that ugly statue back there. Besides, this was probably the most private arena in which they could hold this conversation. Kirk's own cabin might do, but there were a great many people with demands on his time, and the likelihood of them being interrupted there by some nonessential message the captain was nonetheless required to hear was all too high. "I'm fine here," he said. "I don't much care one way or the other. Be good for me to stand for a while after all that sitting on the bridge."
"Very well," Spock said, and sat. There was a moment of silence, as Spock carefully drew his boot on over the bandage. Kirk thought he'd have to prompt him again to get him started, but then Spock said, resting his hands once more on the desk, "You assigned me command of the mission because it was a scientific effort. Also because I am your first officer and therefore the logical choice for command when the captain is not available or not best-suited to the position in question. I understood this rationale, and therefore approached the mission as a scientific problem, much like the missions I was assigned to while studying at the Vulcan Science Academy." He paused and clasped his hands loosely on his desk. "I have no doubt that this would have been sufficient had the mission gone entirely as planned." No excuse, just a simple statement of fact. "However, the quasar phenomenon was significantly more unstable than our initial readings seemed to suggest."
It certainly was that, Kirk thought. True, it was his standing orders to study such phenomena, part of the extensive list of such directions Starfleet Command had handed him at the beginning of his five-year mission, and true, he would never have ordered the shuttlecraft expedition had there been any indication of undue danger, but the fact was he had almost lost most of his senior officers because he'd been trying to get up Ferris's nose and show him that Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise answered to a higher authority than the supercilious High Commissioner. Well, Kirk thought with a touch of rueful amusement, I certainly accomplished that much, didn't I? Much good it did us.
Spock continued. "Shortly after entering the Murasaki 312 phenomenon, however, the shuttlecraft encountered an area of violent radiation which appears to have been an ion storm. It was blown off course and it soon became apparent that the electrical interference was obscuring both sensors and communications on both crafts, the Galileo and the Enterprise. There was no choice but to make an emergency landing on the planetoid Taurus II." He stopped for a moment to look up at Kirk. "At this point I believe my actions were valid as well as perfectly justified. There was nothing that else anyone could have done, no alternatives either logical or illogical."
Kirk nodded, rather pleased with the success of his latest strategy. It'd taken long enough, but he'd finally managed to get Spock talking. "Certainly sounds that way to me. Go on."
Spock took a breath and continued. "While Mr. Scott attempted to repair the damage the shuttlecraft had sustained in the crash, I sent Lieutenants Latimer and Gaetano to scout the area, ordering them to remain in visual contact with the ship as they did so. In hindsight, it appears that by this point my . . . approach to the challenges facing us had caused some distress to the other crewmembers assigned to the mission, but at the time I was unaware of any such emotional disturbance and they obeyed my orders without comment. During the time Latimer and Gaetano were separated from the ship, Mr. Scott informed me that the shuttlecraft had lost significant amounts of fuel, such that it would be impossible to achieve escape velocity, and only possible to achieve orbit at all if the Galileo were to find itself five hundred pounds lighter."
"About the weight of three men," Kirk said.
Spock's eyes flicked up to him. "Indeed, Captain," he said. "That was my first thought as well, and I suggested as much. The truth of this statement was met with consternation and distress, as is only logical, at least for humans, at the thought of abandoning one's friends and comrades or perhaps of being abandoned oneself, but it was not disputed. However, my approach to the solution of the problem was challenged, both by Doctor McCoy and Lieutenant Boma, who suggested a drawing of lots." He hesitated. "I realize that this is a time-honored tradition among those of Earth when faced with an untenable situation," he said, "but there was no logic in allowing random chance to choose who was to be left behind. I refused to entertain the notion, instead insisting that I would make a logical decision regarding the matter."
"I would have done the same, Spock," Kirk said in a quiet tone, watching him carefully. "Command isn't about abdicating your responsibilities for the sake of imagined fairness, and it's the commanding officer's duty to make that kind of choice."
"I appreciate your reassurance, Captain," Spock said, "but it is not necessary, in . . . this particular matter, at least. I believe that I again made the only possible choice in the situation in taking the responsibility upon myself." Maybe, Kirk mused, but there were many officers who would have leaped at the chance to let fate decide for them who was to go and who to stay, to take from them the burden of that most difficult of decisions. And those officers weren't ones he would have wanted in command under him, or anywhere else for that matter. "I believe I could have phrased my decision better, however," Spock continued. "I announced my conclusion in the sparely logical manner I would have used on a mission on Vulcan. I may have I overcompensated for my lack of experience in such matters by reverting to a pattern I was accustomed to in my youth. At any rate, my announcement of this decision caused some measure of discontent in my fellow officers. I believe they felt that I was being unfair, and the doctor that I was being callous. This, however," he added with a touch of what Kirk recognized as humor, "caused me no great surprise."
Kirk smiled slightly at that. He bet it hadn't, and he was glad Spock had a sense of humor about McCoy's constant ribbing, at least. "I'm sure," he said, keeping his voice grave despite his private amusement, knowing Spock could see his acknowledgment of the humor in his eyes. He was surprisingly perceptive that way. "Go on."
Spock shifted in his chair. "It was shortly afterward as we were engaged in assessing the damage to the hull of the Galileo that one of the two officers sent out earlier on reconnaissance screamed. Lieutenant Boma and I rushed to the origin of the noise to discover that Lieutenant Latimer had been killed by a spear to the back tossed by one of the indigenous lifeforms. I scanned the area, but there was no sign of any such lifeform at the time. When I returned to the others and examined the spear, I angered them by appearing more concerned with the construction of the weapon than over Latimer's death." He hesitated. "I did . . . regret, but it seemed more important at the time to discover the nature of his attackers in an attempt to increase the chances of survival of those still alive. I now think that I handled the moment inadequately. Jim . . . you would have said, or done, something appropriate, perhaps inspiring, but it appears my experience of the emotional expectations of humans is still inadequate. I did not realize that such an acknowledgment was considered necessary until it was already too late, and the two remaining lieutenants had formed their opinion that I was largely unconcerned with their welfare."
"I see," Kirk said, careful to keep his own expression blank.
Spock's hands tightened their grip on one another, but his voice was just as even and controlled as it had been previously when he spoke again. "After the incident, Gaetano and Boma insisted on carrying Latimer's body back to the shuttlecraft themselves, refusing my aid. I returned to assisting Mr. Scott with the repairs. By doing this, I to some extent postponed my responsibility to finalize the decision about whom it was necessary to leave behind. This was partly due to practical concerns, as we attempted to lighten the load of the shuttle by removing non-essential cargo. However, the fact remains that I was uncomfortable with the decision, and thus postponed it unduly and . . . illogically, even when it became clear that we would only have to leave one behind. Had I made an immediate decision, rather than pushing Mr. Scott in an attempt to make that unnecessary, we might have been able to make it to orbit and contact the Enterprise far more quickly than we did in the end, thereby resulting in the recovery of the shuttle and those aboard as well as the crewmember left on the surface."
"Equally likely that your hails would still have been obscured by the ion storm and whoever it was would have been killed by the creatures before you were ever able to contact us," Kirk observed mildly.
"Perhaps," Spock replied, but he didn't look at him. "Either way, that particular mistake was certainly not my last. After I refused to officiate at the services for Latimer in the interest of assisting with the essential repairs, I succeeded in further alienating the others, especially Mr. Boma, and my pushing of the issue resulted in the loss of the rest of the Galileo's limited fuel, constraining our already limited options even further. A strategy was discussed in order to deal with the creatures when it became clear that their rather hostile interest in us had not abated. Gaetano and Boma favored a frontal assault, but I objected to this notion on the grounds that it would cause unnecessary death. I ordered phasers fired to frighten, not to kill. I acted . . . arrogantly." Spock stopped, looking down at his hands, and Kirk stayed silent, waiting for him to resume his recollections.
Eventually, Spock took a deep breath and continued on as if he had never paused. "I then left Gaetano to stand guard and returned with Boma to the shuttlecraft. Another mistake. Mr. Scott had devised a method of fueling the Galileo with our phasers. When Mr. Gaetano did not report in a timely manner, we set out to search for him. He was not at his assigned post, though his phaser had been left behind. I gave it to Dr. McCoy along with my own to give to Mr. Scott and ordered both of the other officers to return while I searched for Gaetano. He, too, was dead. I returned his body to the Galileo while the creatures increased the intensity of their attacks on us. It was increasingly apparent that I had miscalculated in my earlier actions. I believed that they would react logically to the threat of our superior force, but as Dr. McCoy warned me might happen, they reacted emotionally instead. Or so he assured me; I could find no reason for their actions. They did appear to be rational beings, but they did not react in any way I perceive as rationality. I can only conclude that if I had been capable of an emotional understanding I could have predicted this response, possibly in time to save Gaetano. We retreated to the shuttle while Mr. Scott proceeded to drain the phasers to fuel it. The creatures then attacked the shuttle. I ordered Mr. Scott to electrify the hull in order to frighten them away. This strategy worked for a time. When Mr. Scott reached the end of his task, I aided the doctor and Mr. Boma in the burial of Gaetano, as Mr. Boma insisted and time was of the essence. Before we were finished, the creatures attacked one final time. This was when I acquired my ankle injury. I ordered the others to leave me, but they refused and disobeyed my orders, aiding me so that I was able to join them aboard the Galileo. This caused a delay that allowed the creatures to reach the shuttlecraft and attempt to hold it down. I ordered the use of the boosters to shake them off so that we could achieve liftoff, despite the fact that this destroyed our chances of a controlled re-entry into the planet's atmosphere." He sighed, didn't look up. "I believe you are already familiar with the rest of my actions, Captain."
"Yes," Kirk said. "I am." He hesitated. "Those actions saved the five of you, Spock. You can't deny that."
"They did not," Spock said slowly, "save Lieutenants Latimer and Gaetano. And even if that were the case, they—they hated me, Jim." His voice didn't break, barely flickered. Only the use of his name when Spock had so carefully used his rank through the majority of their conversation betrayed anything other than his usual impeccable emotional control. "Any errors in judgment aside, it is the duty of the commanding officer to inspire respect and assurance in his officers, a sense of . . . security and belief even in the most impossible of situations. It is what you do." He stared down at his hands. "I appear to have accomplished the opposite."
Kirk looked down, considered, again crossing his arms against his chest. "And that is your report?"
There was a moment, silent and not quite strained, and then, "Affirmative, Captain," Spock said. "In a preliminary sense only, of course, but I believe it covers most of the salient points."
"Well, Spock," Kirk replied, "then, in a preliminary sense only, of course, I have to say that in my opinion, while you did . . . make mistakes, they are not serious enough to warrant any sort of official reprimand."
"But, Captain—" Spock started. He began to push himself to his feet again
Kirk shook his head. Spock hesitated then sank back down, looking vaguely confused. "The purpose of a reprimand," Kirk said, "is chiefly to bring mistakes in judgment or conduct to the attention of the individual in question, most especially when that individual is unaware of or refuses to acknowledge those errors. Alternatively, it is meant to bring those errors to the attention of any future commanding officers. You are already aware of your mistakes in this instance, Spock." Almost painfully so, Kirk added to himself. "The record of your report on the mission will be sufficient to bring those errors in judgment on your part to the attention of any future commander, and I see no reason to permit mistakes made during your first true command experience to adversely affect your chances at it in the future or to do the same to your career in Starfleet. You will learn from those mistakes, that much I'm sure of. It appears you already have." He shrugged. "I have no compelling reason to reprimand you. If I did so, it would be nothing more than a punishment. And that you don't deserve. You performed to the best of your ability and saved the majority of those whose lives you were responsible for. I'm not going to punish you for that. I . . . refuse to."
"Captain," Spock said, a little reluctantly, "I thank you, and yet I still—"
"My command, my decisions, Mr. Spock," Kirk said with a smile. "And my decision, now that I have the pertinent facts, is not to reprimand you. I certainly want you to continue on as my first officer."
Spock let out a breath. "Yes, Captain."
Kirk hesitated, let his thoughts run for a moment, then stepped forward, let his hand fall on Spock's shoulder. "You made mistakes," he said, "but you didn't . . . do badly, either." He smiled down at him. "You'll do, Mr. Spock. Now, get some rest."
Spock sighed, and a deep tension seemed to leave him, a tension that hadn't even been visible on the surface until the easing of it. "If that is what you require of me, sir," he said, and Kirk blinked at him until he realized that in his own way he was teasing back.
"It is!" he said on his way out the door. "I don't even want to see you before your next shift on the bridge tomorrow."
"You shall not," Spock said.
"Good," Kirk replied. "Later, then."
"Yes, Captain," Spock said.
"Jim."
There was a pause. "Jim."
Kirk turned, grinned, and then let the door close behind him.
Sometimes, really, he amazed even himself. That hadn't gone half badly.
