Abjure - (v.) To renounce or reject solemnly; To recant, to avoid
James Tiberius Kirk loved space, everything to do with space. The heat, the silence, the taste of recirculated air. Most of all, the stark and endless possibilities contained in every single parsec of this wondrous play ground. He, however, hated the squiggles it produced with a passion. That's what he had a science officer for, so that he would never have to lay eyes on another data imbued squiggle ever again.
His apparent loathing never seemed to stop his first officer from putting data laden pads in his hands. Like he was doing - right now. Kirk glared down at the spectrograph, involuntarily flashing back to Phys 4001: A Quantitative and Analytical Introduction to the Universe.
He'd taken the lecture and its' accompanying laboratory-because there was always an accompanying lab-his first semester at the academy. It was a required course for all command track cadets, the higher-ups believing the comprehensive overview would teach these future pilots and captains to handle and interpret massive amounts of data. It was an excellent exercise, really. As captain of the Enterprise, he was bombarded constantly with warp efficiency readings, Klingon intelligence reports, the number of crew members that had nightmares each night, even the concentration of oxygen in the crew's drinking water, down to the parts per million.
None of this turned memorizing the GCMS and NMR readings of Polaris IV's atmosphere into a fond memory. He'd aced the class, officially and permanently abjuring from all types of spectroscopy and their damn squiggles henceforth-or so he'd thought.
"What am I lookin' for here, Spock?" He asked, trying, and failing, to keep from rolling his eyes.