There had been little to do besides standard ship maintenance in the two shifts since his communication with the Sochya. Jim's thoughts whirred in circles, trying to think of a way around the orders he had received: promote from within to replace Spock's functions. Rationally, he knew it was necessary. The science department was headless; they needed a leader.
Jim put his doubts aside. He had ship's business to attend to. "Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu, please come to attention."
Sulu rose from his station, taking a half step away from the chair, and snapped to attention. "Sir."
"Your performance onboard this ship has been exemplary. I am proud to have you as an officer and to call you my friend. I am promoting you to the rank of Commander and the position of First Officer." Jim gave a wide smile to Hikaru, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Congratulations."
"It's my honor, sir. I'll hold the position until Spock's return," Sulu declared with a tentative smile.
"You may return to your station, Commander Sulu. And update your uniform!"
"Yes, Captain." Sulu returned to his seat at the helm of the ship.
Jim shifted his focus to the science station. "Lieutenant Carol Marcus, please come to attention."
"Sir."
"I know you are already doing the job of head of the science department now that the position is… vacant," Jim briefly broke eye contact before continuing, "and I have seen and heard nothing but good things. You are now formally promoted to head of the science department."
"Thank you, Captain. Mr. Spock left the department in great shape. I promise to hand it back to him the way he left it." She looked pleased. Jim felt sick, but he kept a smile on his face.
"Resume your duties, Lieutenant." Jim couldn't help but feel that he had given up on Spock, somehow. Regardless, he needed to carry on; the ship needed to run smoothly.
Jim heard the familiar beep of his PADD in the early hours of Alpha shift.
He reviewed the details of the new mission he had just received. Admiral Chandra had penned the reply, though an emergency session of the Federation Council had been convened to vote on the issue of negotiating with the Xirans.
The vote had been close to unanimous in favor of negotiating a peace treaty. The mission brief included a goal for territory borders, taxes on imported and exported goods, an objective to gather more information on their technology, and finally, the Spock issue: Starfleet wanted Spock to return to headquarters for a full debriefing as part of the treaty. Jim pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. How on earth was he going to convince Spock to go along with that? He had no means of persuading Spock to leave his comfortable position onboard the Sochya, nothing to offer other than his old position .
"I've received new orders. Senior staff should prepare to meet in Conference Room One in ten minutes."
Jim turned his attention to the viewscreen. The Sochya was silhouetted by the system's sun, light blazing around for a moment as it as it orbited Hlish. Jim impassively watched the ship crawl slowly out of the golden sphere, trying not to think about what Spock was doing at that moment.
Jim stood for the meeting, too restless to sit. His senior staff were arrayed around the table, with Bones at the far end. "The Federation government voted in favor of negotiating a trade agreement with the Xirans. You have the guidelines for trade and boundary placement goals in the mission briefs I have forwarded you," he began. "Starfleet also wants as much additional information on their technology as possible. More information on the Xiran tech may lead to determining what, exactly, has befallen Mr. Spock."
"Finally, what will surely be the most difficult task: they want us to bring Mr. Spock back to Earth so that he may formally answer questions about his recent actions. Please leave this objective to me."
"I canna' believe Mr. Spock would come back to Earth willingly. Who would want to face a bloody tribunal if they could avoid it?" Scotty looked incredulous.
"There's nothing for it, Scotty, I'll have to convince him somehow." Jim felt frustrated already. What could he offer Spock that the Xirans didn't have?
"We would have a better chance of coming into contact with scannable Xiran technology onboard the Sochya. " Marcus sat up straight, voice betraying her excitement.
"At least the Xirans haven't tried to kill us yet." Bones was parked in his usual corner of the conference room. "It's a change of pace."
"Thanks, Bones. Just for that, you're on the negotiations team. So are Lieutenants Uhura, Marcus, and myself." Jim crossed his arms and looks out the viewport.
"Well, aren't I lucky." Bones smirked.
"If that is all, it's time to hail the Xirans and give them the message that we're good to start negotiating." Jim nodded to the room. "Dismissed."
Once he was back on the bridge, Jim had Uhura open a channel to the Sochya. In less than the span of a breath, their hail was answered. The bridge looked a bit calmer than the last time they had hailed it. Spock dominated the scene, hands loose at his sides, relaxed.
"Greetings, Captain. I trust you have heard from Starfleet?" Spock's voice was calm and steady, a familiar constant. Jim yearned to have him back by his side.
"We have indeed heard from Command. We are to go through with negotiations, Admiral. Now, your place or mine?" Jim tried not to smile, but he could tell he was not successful when he saw Spock's eyebrow quirk slightly.
"The Enterprise will be suitable to our purposes, Captain. If I am still welcome aboard." Spock's posture stiffened slightly as he said this.
Thinking fast, Jim answered, "Why don't we alternate ships as meeting locales. That way we both get to play host. The Enterprise can entertain first."
"I find your recommendation to be satisfactory. Basic information on the cultures of the Xiran Union and its current boundaries will be transmitted over to your ship. Are you prepared to begin negotiations today, or do you require additional time?"
"No, we're good. We'll lower our shields to allow your team to beam over in two hours. Don't bring any weapons, and limit your team size to six or less. We will restrict your movements on the ship to approved areas only, and you will have a security detail with you at all times. Do you accept these terms?"
"Affirmative. I will ask that you and your team follow these same protocols while onboard the Sochya. "
"That's fair." Internally, he groaned - how was he supposed to investigate Xiran tech while being shadowed by Xiran security? "See you in two hours, Spock. Kirk out."
"Well, looks like we're going to be having guests. Uhura, get me Cupcake." She nodded, connecting the bridge to Hendorff's comm.
"Hendorff here, sir."
"There's going to be a team of up to six Xirans including Spock coming over for the negotiations in two hours. Prepare pairs of security personnel to shadow the Xirans while we're on break, and set up security checks at key points around Conference Room One. They can access the rec rooms, the mess hall, and the observation deck. No more than that. Other locations on the ship need to be cleared with me or senior officers before they can access them."
"Finally, revoke Mr. Spock's security clearance. Reset it to that of a civilian. Any questions?"
"No, sir."
"Get to it. Kirk out." Jim felt his stomach quiver with anticipation.
Jim skimmed Spock's briefing on the Xiran Union. The home world and capital of the Xiran Union was Xira, a temperate class-M planet with a population rivaling that of Earth. The Union consisted of forty-two inhabited planets, many of which were merely colonies of their member races, of which there were nineteen. Jim skipped the subsections on the member races for now.
Each member world had its own government, which sent elected representatives of their interests to the bicameral Xiran Parliament. Their parliamentary system of government included the standard three branches: the Xiran Parliament, the Xiran Cabinet, and the High Court of Xira. The Xiran Cabinet was appointed by the Parliament and headed by a Prime Minister.
The supposedly peace-loving people had two fleets of warships at their disposal in the Xiran Exploratory Force. The briefing provided its operational charter, which Jim noted, closely mirrored Starfleet's charter. It stated that the fleets' mission was to explore space, seek out new civilizations, and to expand the knowledge of the Xiran Union.
Jim scrolled back to the subsections on member races, reading more closely on the details regarding the Xirans. They were known for their pursuit of knowledge and love of creative works. Scientists, artists, writers, and others who directly contributed to the expansion of Xiran culture were idolized.
Horticulture was important both in their architecture and in their way of life. They saw the state of a family's garden as an indicator of the health of the family unit, and the health of public gardens as a metric of the state of the government. They routinely invented new plant hybrids and had horticultural fads. Trampling plants or intentionally doing damage to one of these gardens was seen as a grave insult.
Spock had noted that a Xiran's wide, dark eyes were able to parse a wider gamut of light than a human's. The range of height and weight was comparable to humans, with a similar range of skin tones. They possessed six fingers and six toes. Their blood was copper-based.
There was no section dealing with their technology or specifics about their leadership, besides a list of names of government officials. Jim lingered on Spock's name, listed as Fleet Admiral.
After reviewing the report that Spock had sent over regarding the Xiran Union, Jim could no longer sit still. He fluttered through the ship, helping wherever he could. He even personally oversaw the cleaning of Conference Room One - he's pretty sure that was the first time the Ops cleaning staff received direct orders from their Captain.
Bones appeared in the doorway, irritation plain on his face. "Jim, are you terrorizing these poor crewmen and women?"
Jim looked up from where he was directing the arrangement of flowers from botany. "They love it, Bones."
Jim did not miss the save me glance that was cast at Bones from the ensign arranging the flowers. He rubbed his face with his hands, wondering if he was losing it.
"Let's take a walk, Jim." Bones made an after you sweep with his arms.
Jim opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. Jim knew Bones had his best interests at heart. "Sure, Bones. Keep up the good work everyone!"
A mumbled chorus of "Yes, Captain," drifted out to the hallway as Jim left the room. They strode through the halls, Jim a half-step behind Bones.
Jim tried to remain patient, but the silence got to him. "Bones, what's up? We've only got twenty minutes until the Xiran team arrives." Jim wrung his hands with nervous energy.
Bones led him into the empty observation deck. Once inside closed doors, Bones walked across to the windows, then turned back to Jim. "I've just heard about the Captain's impressive micromanaging skills, but I didn't think you would actually stoop to bothering the cleaning crew. Jim, you surely have more important tasks than picking flowers to impress Spock!"
Jim felt sheepish, ducking his head slightly and avoiding eye contact. "I... couldn't concentrate on my work, Bones." Outside the observation deck's ample windows, the Sochya drifted in space.
"Jim, you need to get your head straight where Spock is concerned. I know you two were close, but that's over now. Don't hurt yourself by assuming Spock is as he was when he was your First Officer. " Bones watched impassively as Jim sat slowly on one of the couches in front of the windows, sighing. "Hell, how do we even know what went on in that stone-faced hobgoblin's head? He could have been pining for an out the whole time.
"Treat him like a mystery to be solved, or simply like a mission objective. I'd hate to have to declare you emotionally compromised, but you're heading that way."
Jim stared out into the black, at the Sochya , at anything other than Bones. His head fell forward, eyes closing.
"I'm not compromised, Bones. I'm just… anxious to start the negotiations."
"Of course you are, Jim. But you don't get anxious."
"Whenever my ship or crew's in danger, I'm anxious."
"No, you worry. And you usually respond more productively than terrorizing the junior crew. And who's in danger now, anyway, for you to be anxious over?"
Jim felt his face heat. "Spock is still my crew, Bones. He may very well be in danger."
"He sure has a funny way of showing it, kid."
Jim was tired of the scrutiny. "Let's get to the transporter room, Bones. It's nearly time." Jim stalked off, not waiting for Bones or his reply.
The tell-tale shimmer of Xiran teleporters was right on time, Jim noted. How like Spock; ever punctual. He came to attention, as did his fellow officers.
Spock came into existence on the transporter pad alongside four uniformed Xirans.
"Welcome aboard the Enterprise ." Jim's anxiety was replaced by a sense of rightness as he took in Spock's familiar face.
There was a pause as Spock failed to return his greeting. Spock's eyes flitted minutely to take the whole room in before he finally nodded. "Allow me to introduce the Xiran delegation to these negotiations." He acknowledged the team of Xirans standing at attention a step behind him.
"Lieutenant Bifar, step forward." Bifar, a dark-skinned and heavy-set Xiran, locked his hands behind his back and stepped forward, bowing slightly. "He is an experienced communications officer, well-versed in xenolinguistics. He has served the Exploratory Force for four years."
"Lieutenant Shalisa, step forward." Shalisa bounced slightly as she took her step to the front, making her obviously-non-Xiran tail whip around, nearly hitting Spock. She waved cheerily at the Enterprise crew. "She is an expert on diplomatic and public relations, serving in the Exploratory Force for seven years."
"Commander Dez, step forward. He is the Sochya's lead science officer, serving in the Exploratory Force for fifteen years." Dez could not have been stiffer in his movements, simply staring at the bulkhead while Spock described his service.
"Doctor Veersha, step forward. She is one of the Sochya's premier physicians, serving in the Exploratory Force for nine years."
A light smile lit up the Xiran face of Doctor Veersha. "But I am proudest of the last five years that I have spent serving on the Sochya. " Veersha stepped back as Spock stepped down off the platform.
"Captain, I have already briefed my team on key members of your crew that you were likely to select for this endeavor." Spock looked past Jim. "Greetings, Lieutenant Marcus, Lieutenant Uhura, and Doctor McCoy."
Jim felt betrayed, imagining Spock giving briefings on the crew of the Enterprise . The Xiran team undoubtedly had an upper hand if they had access to all of Spock's insider knowledge of the Enterprise and the Federation. "How… logical." He had to restrain himself from saying more, which would undoubtedly lead to trouble. He could be a diplomat. "Let's get down to business, then. If you would follow me to the meeting room."
Jim could not believe it. The negotiations were a polite clusterfuck. The borders that the Xirans had drawn up overlapped the goal for Federation space massively and proposed trade investment rates were expansively different on both sides of the table. It had been like pulling teeth to even get the Xirans to express their goals.
Spock had been largely silent during this process, preferring instead to observe the discussion. Jim found Spock's gaze on him distracting whenever he took over the dialogue, and more than once had to intentionally look away from Spock to keep his chain of thought together.
The conversation reached dilithium ore and the polite, calm discussion dissolved into an argument. Shalisa spoke over Uhura and Dex made remarks that undercut both of them. Spock's authoritative voice cut through the rabble of voices. "Perhaps a brief suspension of our negotiations is in order."
Jim agreed. "Let's take a break, get something to eat." He stood, and the other attendees did the same. Walking to the door, Jim held it open. "Everyone to the mess hall!"
The group filed out. Jim noticed Bones had his hand on the small of Doctor Veersha's back. Thinking back, Jim recalled that they had been having their own conversation at the end of conference table. Jim smirked as their figures disappeared down the hall with a security team.
Spock was the last to leave the room, and now stood in front of Jim. "Captain, if I may ask a favor."
"Sure thing, Spock, errr, Admiral Spock."
"I require a space that is both quiet and reasonably private to meditate in for a portion of this break in our discussion." Spock looked like he would continue, but Jim cut him off.
"Of course, Admiral. How do your old quarters sound?" Jim kicked himself, he was being way too permissive.
"Captain, I require privacy and nothing more. My former quarters are quite unnecessary." Spock looked uncomfortable, shifting slightly.
"Your quarters fit the bill, and they're just as you left them: perfect for meditation. It's no trouble, Spock."
"Your recommendation is sound." Despite his agreement, Spock still seemed reluctant.
"Come on, Spock. Let's go meditate." Jim turned and started walking out the door.
"I must insist that you refer to me as Admiral Spock," Spock corrected, but there was no irritation to it.
Upon arriving at Spock's quarters, Jim keyed in the entry code. "Remain outside," he told the security officers that had accompanied him. "We'll be no longer than thirty minutes, isn't that right, Admiral Spock?"
"Affirmative."
The door swished closed behind them as Jim walked further into the room. He had been here before, though he and Spock usually met up in Jim's. The air was warm and dry, and Jim had the vague thought that he should have the environmental controls reset.
Jim turned to look at Spock, and was shocked at the change in his demeanor. Spock had approached a shelf and was gently running his fingers over the wooden base of his lyre, pain and longing clear on his face.
Jim abruptly had a change of heart. "We don't have to be here, Spock, there are empty VIP quarters on Deck 2…"
"We are already here, Captain. Relocating would be illogical." Spock looked up from his perusal of the shelf, meeting Jim's concerned gaze.
"You seem uncomfortable, is all, Spock."
"I admit to being somewhat discomfited, but it is not only these quarters that are the cause. Captain, I am surrounded by memories of a life that I believed until quite recently to be unattainable. I must re-center myself."
"Unattainable? Spock, we would take you back with open arms!" Jim realized he was oversimplifying matters. Jim took a step towards Spock. "Well, you would no doubt have to explain a few things, but the Enterprise would fight to get you back!"
Spock's eyes looked even sadder. "I have a responsibility to the Xiran Union, Captain. I cannot leave it, even to be First Officer of the Enterprise ."
"There's nothing I wouldn't do to get you back, Spock. You must know that."
Spock took a half-step forward, placing one of his hands on Jim's shoulder. Jim wondered, belatedly, if he was about to be Vulcan-throttled. Unexpectedly, images from his dream about being pinned to the bulkhead intruded on his train of thought. Jim shrugged off the inappropriately-timed fantasy.
Jim reached up and placed his hand on top of Spock's. He only had a minute to register warm before the hand slid out from under his and Spock turned away.
"I must meditate." Spock stalked away from Jim, sinking down to the floor in the corner of the room on one of the meditation mats.
"Of course, I'll be over here at the desk." Jim sat down heavily, feeling foolish after his proclamations to Spock. He slumped over, his cheeks resting in the palms of his hands. He turned on Spock's data terminal, intending to work on crew evaluations, but instead his gaze lingered on Spock's still form, mind whirling with questions.
Spock finished his meditation in a timely fashion, his stoic manner restored. He and Jim agreed to get something quick to eat from the mess hall.
Noting the curious looks and near-constant whispering from crew at Spock as they made their way to the food synthesiser in the mess hall, Jim felt some pity. Spock's posture was ramrod straight through it all though, even when one sputtering ensign bumped into him, saying, "Commander Spock!"
"Admiral Spock, now." Spock gently corrected, as the ensign blushed and quickly went on his way. Spock returned to the line for the synthesiser, unruffled.
After picking up their meals, Jim looked across the room to determine where to sit. However, Spock was intercepted.
"Admiral, I would like your opinion on a revision to our proposed numbers for tariffs on imported fuels, technologies, and vehicles." Commander Dex shifted his weight uneasily under Jim's gaze.
"I would like to hear your recommendation, Commander. If you will excuse us, Captain."
Commander Dex motioned to relatively private table, and the two went off together.
Jim hefted his tray and was about to resign himself to sitting at a random table when the doors to the mess hall opened and Lieutenant Uhura came in, followed by Shalisa, Bifar, and Lieutenant Marcus. They were all laughing.
Jim walked over, smiling, "I demand to be let in on the joke."
Shalisa grinned at him, saying "We have just come from your recreation room, where we played a game of ping-ping."
"Ping-PONG," corrects Bifar, with a deep chuckle, dark eyes twinkling.
"And it turns out I am terrible at it. They are mocking me, Captain." Marcus affects a pout, sparkle still in her eyes, earning more laughs from the others.
"Come, sit with me while I eat, tell me about it." The group found a table and sat comfortably arrayed around it. Marcus regaled the table with a tale of her mishaps. Jim listened and laughed at all the right places, but found his gaze shifting to Spock's dark head a few tables over.
"… After the fifth time hitting Security Officer Ryan in the head with my misplaced serve I just had to give up! Advanced physics degree or no, ping-pong is not my sport!" Marcus finished her rant, smiling as the others chuckled.
"I am glad for this opportunity to see Admiral Spock's original culture." Shalisa fairly beamed at Jim, and Jim grinned back.
"I doubt you will catch Spock playing ping-pong any time soon."
"The Admiral has always been known for his reticence in sharing information about his origins. When he revealed to the Xiran Parliament that there was a chance that there would be an alignment with his original timeline after so long, I was incredibly excited for him!" Jim tried to conceal how interested he was in this unsolicited earful.
Bifar looked mildly appalled. "You are sharing private information, Lieutenant."
"It's all public record. Anyway, this mission to Hlish took a lot of planning and research to time properly." Shalisa didn't look concerned, but Bifar's tone was cold and serious.
"You are overstepping boundaries. I insist that you cease this conversation's topic at once." Bifar's dark eyes had narrowed, and his upturned nostrils were mere slits. Jim wanted more information, but he also didn't want his source getting in trouble.
"Hey, has anyone seen Bones?" Jim put on his best worried face.
"He took Dr. Veersha down to see med bay." Uhura smirked a little. "He wanted to show her some scanners."
"I bet he did." Jim chuckled as he took a bite out of his food, noting the curiosity in the eyes of the Xiran officers.
"Why do you find their comparison of equipment humorous?" Bifar seemed to have relaxed from his previous chilly demeanor.
"Well, Lieutenant Bifar, I know Bones, er, Dr. McCoy pretty well, and he only shows the med bay to women he likes. Romantically."
"This is exceptional news!" Bifar was excited, his black eyes blinking rapidly. "Dr. Veersha has not taken a mate in many cycles."
"Dr. McCoy is a good man, is he not?" Shalisa questioned Jim.
"McCoy is my best friend." Unwittingly, his gaze slipped back to Spock. "Let's keep this whole McCoy-Veersha thing a secret for now, though, everyone. We wouldn't want to harsh their vibe."
"Harsh their vibe?" Bifar's eyes widen.
"I mean, disrupt their courtship." Jim was finished with his food, but he wasn't ready to leave the table. "Let's talk more about ping-pong. Do you have any games like it within the Xiran Union?"
The group amicably talked about the variety of paddle ball games found in various civilizations until it was time to resume the negotiations. They then went back to the conference room, and things progressed far better than the first session, though there were still many issues to conquer.
After the negotiations ended for the day and the Xiran delegation was safely returned to the Sochya, Jim called a short briefing to review the day's events and plan for their next meeting.
"Can we meet anywhere else, please? I am sick of staring at these four walls," Bones groused, gesturing to Conference Room One's rather minimalist decor.
"It's the biggest conference room, and the one reserved for senior staff. You know this, Bones." Jim sighed, then started the meeting. "Alright, let's go over the current Xiran trade proposal and compare their numbers to ours. Let's also figure out the key areas where we may need to ask Starfleet for wiggle room on their goal numbers to make the treaty work."
They worked intently together for at least an hour before Jim was stretching back, watching Marcus and Uhura compare two star charts on their PADDs. He looked at Bones, whose gaze was unfocused as his mouth curled into a smile.
"Thinking about someone we know?" Bones startled, shooting him a dirty glare. Jim continued, "Someone we just met today, maybe?"
"I don't know what you are on about, Jim," Bones grumbled, clearly preferring to avoid this topic.
"How did Dr. Veersha like the med bay?" Jim asked more directly.
"She was curious about our biofunction monitors and some of the experiments we have going on in the lab, but I got the impression that it was only polite interest." Disappointment was plain in the set of Bones' features, but he suddenly perked up. "She did say I'd get to see Sochya's medical facilities, which, based on her descriptions, are expansive..."
"Expansive, eh?" Jim had trouble keeping a straight face.
"Just what are you implying, Jim?"
Jim turned in his chair, facing Bones, and recited, sotto voce, " Bones and Veersha sitting in a tree, K-I…"
"That's enough!" Bones whispered quickly and quietly, interrupting him. "I'd think you would be pleased we were hitting it off. I'll be able to get up close and personal with their medical technology, which is part of the mission. Remember the mission? Or have you forgotten it in favor of spending quality time with Spock?" Jim looked at him dumbly until Bones continued, "You took him to his quarters and you were alone with him for over a half hour, Jim."
"Oh, that… Spock needed to meditate."
"And he needed to do it in his old quarters with you as his chaperone?"
Thinking fast, Jim came up with an excuse. "I'm trying to butter him up for when I have to convince him to come back to Earth, Bones. You know that's not going to be easy."
"You'd better think of something more logical than look how nice I've been ."
Feeling stung, Jim turned away from Bones and tuned back into the discussion on borders and boundaries.
The next day, Jim was nervous about boarding the Sochya, seeing Spock's ship. What could be so compelling that Spock would choose it over the Enterprise? Jim doubted Spock could find equals to the men and women of Jim's crew. Perhaps he found fault with its Captain, who had given the order to surrender their weapons on Hlish. Jim hurt at the idea that Spock might blame him for losing him, for not coming to the rescue.
Perhaps the answer would be found in the Xiran technology. More information on the rift devices may reveal what, exactly, has happened to Spock - whether it be mind control as Chekov hypothesised or something even more complex.
He was already in the transporter room when the broadcast coordinates for their beam-over were received and the rest of his team arrived. He decided not to show his apprehensiveness.
"Morning, ladies and Bones," Jim grinned broadly.
"Jesus, what are you so excited about?" Bones clearly did not match Jim's level of enthusiasm.
"We're going to go see Spock's ship!"
"May I remind you these are serious negotiations, not some grade-school field trip."
"Bones, you're no fun." Jim schooled his face into a serious expression. "Form up, people, let's get ready to beam over." Uhura, Marcus and Bones took their positions on the platform.
"Scotty, is the Sochya ready for us?"
"Their shields are down, Captain, and they expressed permission for your arrival with the coordinates."
"Alright. Energize." Jim watched as the familiar setting of the transporter room transitioned into something bright and blue. His feet sank into a rich carpet of mossy turf. He had to shield his eyes for a moment, as they adjusted.
"Welcome aboard the UXSS Sochya. " Spock's voice rang out in the open air. Jim took in his surroundings, gaping at huge, blue bioluminescent trees that seemed to tower over them. Their branches caressed the air, wavering lightly as if there was some sort of unfelt breeze. He lowered his gaze to ground-level, where a myriad of plants lined the base of the trees, foliage a variety of colors. The air smelled sweet and fresh, unlike the normally stale starship air. "You are currently in our ship's arboretum."
"Gotta admit, Admiral, I'm impressed." Jim slowly turned around, taking in the whole cathedral-like vaulted dome. He could almost see why Spock was attracted to this posting.
When he turned back to face Spock and the Xiran team, he noted that Spock was wearing a pair of worn gray gloves that almost perfectly matched his heather grey uniform.
Lieutenant Shalisa bounced forward. "We invite you to participate in an ancient Xiran ceremony to welcome guests. Xiran culture places an emphasis on botany and gardening."
She beckoned them over to a section of the arboretum floor that looked like it was ready for planting, earth churned loose and dark. There were four mats placed in a line on the ground by the dark earth.
"It is a simple ceremony, wherein the host and guest plant and water the seed symbolic of welcome on Xira, the bahfrit flower bulb. We have four bulbs ready for planting so that your entire team can experience the ceremony." Shalisa pulled a fist-sized magenta bulb from the pack she carried.
"Commander Dex will welcome Lieutenant Marcus."
"Lieutenant Bifar will welcome Lieutenant Uhura."
"Dr. Veersha will welcome Dr. McCoy."
"Admiral Spock will welcome Captain Kirk."
After these pronouncements, Shalisa gave the odd-looking bulbs to each of the Xiran team members, who then paired up with their Enterprise counterparts.
"Now, listen to my instructions as we complete this ritual."
"Approach the tilled earth and kneel on the mats that have been laid out for you." Jim walked into the soft earth, Spock at his left side, and kneeled in tandem with his former First Officer. The smell of fresh fertilizer was overwhelming. He noticed a jug of water with two handles to his right.
"Dig a hole approximately 24 centimeters deep together." Spock started scooping earth away, making a small depression. Jim hastily joined in, fingers lightly bumping against Spock's as they both dug. He felt rather than saw Spock tense next to him as his hand brushed across the back of a worn glove. Seemingly out of nowhere, the sting of rejection hit him. Spock couldn't even stand his touch anymore.
Jim avoided Spock's hands as they finished digging. Strangely, in the narrow depths of the hole, it seemed like Spock's hands were searching his out as their fingers awkwardly tangled.
"Next, place the bahfrit bulb into the soil, roots down. You both must have one hand on it."
Spock picked up the bulb in his left hand, and Jim extended his right hand to join Spock's. They smoothly lowered their bulb into the hole. Jim stole a glance at Spock's face and was surprised to see him flushed, focused on where their fingertips overlapped on the bulb. Spock met Jim's eyes, and they both dropped the bulb the last inch into the hole.
"Cover the bulb with soil."
They pushed the dirt back into the hole, quickly filling it. As they smoothed the dirt over the now-filled hole, Spock brushed his fingers against Jim's. Jim beamed at Spock, but Spock's gaze was on their overlapping hands.
"Now, lift the jug together as your host welcomes you using an old Xiran recitation."
Spock helped Jim lift the jug, which felt cool and smooth in his dirty hands.
Spock looked into Jim's eyes. "You are welcome to all that is mine, for I have judged you and found you worthy. Come into my house and make yourself merry. May our friendship bloom as brightly and as long as these flowers, green even in winter, returning to blossom year after year."
Jim felt his mouth go dry at Spock's words. He was consumed with images of their friendship - chess, heart-stopping missions, the bridge, mission reports, his face in med bay. If only Spock's words were more than a diplomatic symbol.
In his distraction, Jim missed the next order. But he just followed Spock's lead, pouring a small amount of water on their planted seed.
"Finally, the guest expresses his or her gratitude to the host with a reciprocal physical gesture. In my culture, we would twine tails, though Xirans bump forearms or embrace." She smiled at them brightly. "Human gestures are welcome!"
Jim looked warily at Spock. Spock, the touch-telepath who shrank away from most gestures. He took in Spock's gloved hands and an idea struck him.
He extended his hand. Spock, eyes wide, hesitantly took it. Jim ran his thumb across the smooth material of Spock's glove, firming his grip. Jim was focused on the way Spock's breath hitched, the way his hand felt hot and strong, not noticing that their handshake had gone on a second too long. Jim let go, belatedly realizing the other groups were all staring at them.
Sucking in a deep gulp of the sweet air, Jim was grateful when Shalisa broke the awkward silence.
"Great job everyone! We've completed the ceremony. Sochya botanists will take care of these plants in memory of our meeting." Shalisa seemed pleased with their performance. "We will now visit a washroom so that you may clean your hands. After that, we will resume negotiations."
She guided them down a dirt path through the arboretum, stopping at an immense doorway. The doorway way was lit with an opaque blue glow, and Jim watched as a strange, eight-winged creature darted near. The dragonfly-esque critter zoomed toward the glow, only to bounce off of it. Shalisa stuck her arm through the glowing border. "This forcefield is programmed to only prevent insects from escaping." She walked the rest of the way through.
The rest of the group went through the forcefield without incident, though Jim eyed it warily before stepping across the threshold. Spock's ship was certainly sophisticated, making the Enterprise look like last year's model. Spock had deserved a captaincy of his own but never seemed interested in pursuing it while he was stationed with Jim. He felt a pang of guilt, recalling their actions on Hlish.
They emerged into a corridor with doors on either side of the open hallway. The first thing Jim noticed, though, were the gun-toting security personnel waiting for them. The floor practically sparkled in light gray tile, with white walls and a dark vaulted ceiling. Shalisa pointed to one side of the corridor. "The Federation delegation may use the facilities here. Our team will use the others over on this side."
"Great!" said Jim, possibly a bit too enthusiastically. He approached the door, expecting it to slide open. He jumped a little as it telescoped open from the center. He went inside, and around a privacy wall there were stalls and two sinks. Jim hung back away from the sink, waiting for the others to file in.
"Well that was nice," Jim remarked, smiling.
Bones seemed irritated with him, bustling up to one of the sonic sinks. "It was nice. Well-thought-out and not something to be mocked." Bones turned on the taps, and white noise filled the small room.
Nyota sidled up to Jim. "Aren't you and Spock cozy, holding hands."
"We shook hands, Uhura. It's a greeting in our culture which you may have encountered in your studies."
"Vulcans don't shake hands, Captain. Their hands are too sensitive, being touch-telepaths. They kiss with their hands. Like this." Uhura grabbed one of Jim's hands, molding his hand so that the index and middle fingers were extended while the others were curled to his palm.
She mirrored his hand's position then ran her extended fingers along the back of Jim's.
"Did you just make out with me?" Jim had a playful expression on his face.
"More importantly, did you just make out with Spock?" she said, sharply, before turning to the sinks.
Jim dismissed the idea easily. Spock and he were just pals, buddies, friends. His mind drifted back to the satisfying strength of Spock's grip and Spock's quick little gasp as he ran his thumb across the back of his hand.
Nothing more. Just pals. Right.
It was his turn at the sinks, so he stepped up and vigorously scrubbed the dirt off his hands.
They took a quick trip through the decks of the Sochya, riding a lift up seemingly countless decks. Throughout their journey, Shalisa had been telling them about the various species in their crew and their homeworlds.
"That's Ensign Hobarg, he's from Gortyt, a planet covered largely in ocean. He can breathe underwater!"
"This is Lieutenant Chamvers, security officer. Her fur protects her from the cold on her arctic homeworld."
Jim found Shalisa's constant dialogue to be a welcome distraction, although he could occasionally feel Spock's lingering gaze on him.
"Here we are!" Shalisa did a slight bounce-bow in front of a wide doorway.
"This will be the primary venue for our negotiations on the Sochya ." Spock strode forward, entering the room first.
Jim followed, then stopped after taking a few steps in. The room's external side and ceiling were transparent, distant stars twinkling in the deep mystery of space. The external side sloped gently into the ceiling. Narrow, graceful support pillars infrequently blocked Jim's view out into the black.
A rectangular table was set up near the center of the spacious room with chairs on both sides but without chairs at the heads of the table.
Jim caught up to Spock, who had already chosen a seat. Jim took the seat across from him, saying, "You guys are really pulling out all the stops."
"I am sure I do not know the 'stops' to which you refer." Spock replied as he sunk into his seat.
The rest of the group took positions around the table, and the negotiations began.
Jim opened the discussion. "Ok, now, we've talked about trading many types of technology, but what about the rift devices? Can we reach an agreement on their trade?"
Spock's jaw stiffened, eyes suddenly cold. The change took Jim's breath away. "Rift devices and their technology will never be traded, and their technology will remain classified."
Jim didn't like the sound of that. "Why, Spock? Afraid of what we'd do if we got our filthy hands on your precious machines?"
"This decision was not made lightly. The ethical questions involved in travel through space/time are considerable, Captain." Spock looked to be getting agitated, hands gripping the edge of the table. The other Xiran delegates looked on with something like fear in their eyes.
Jim wanted to make his point. "What about Hlish? Seems like you let them have one without even giving them an owner's manual."
Spock's eyes were not quite meeting Jim's. "Hlish was… a mistake, one which I hope to rectify. Authorities are conducting further investigation as we speak."
"Yeah, well, the Federation is interested in the tech. Think of the benefits that we could gain from it!"
"I assure you, I will not waver on my stance." Spock and Jim sustained eye contact for a moment. It was Spock who looked away first.
Spock changed the topic. "Let us review proposed dilithium ore trade investment rates. As you know, the Xiran Union has a wealth of resources…"
By the time Spock announced it was time for a break, Jim had hatched a plan. It was time to see some real sights on this Xiran ship.
As they rose, Jim whispered to Marcus, "Give me your communicator."
Marcus gave him a confused look, but handed it to him without complaint.
Spock took off first, not waiting for the rest of the group. Shalisa took over, busily describing varieties of delicious Xiran cuisine, leading them to the door and out to the corridor. Jim lagged behind, turning to one of the security guards posted at the door. "I have to use the washroom, can you take me to the nearest one?"
The guard tapped a small sphere that was pinned onto his uniform, then said something into it. He grunted a few times to confirm his orders, then spoke to Jim. "A security officer will arrive momentarily to escort you to the washroom, Captain."
"Great." Jim opened his communicator, and started playing with the settings.
His oversized guard arrived, shuffling up to the door, boredom evident in the set of his heavy, crowded features. He had four eyes, a pair of which were half-lidded. His mouth and nose projected like a muzzle, drooping. "Lieutenant Yurdrn reporting for duty," he mumbled.
"Take Captain Kirk to Washroom Beta-9. Once he is finished, escort him to the main cafeteria."
"Yes, sir."
Jim obediently walked in front of Yurdrn, changing directions as ordered. They had not been walking for long when they reached a deserted four-way intersection. The route they were taking was bisected by another corridor that was on a sharp incline and turned on its way down.
Jim stopped, motioning for Yurdrn to stop too. "I think I hear something strange. Do you hear it? From over there!" Jim pointed ahead. As Yurdrn turned to look, Jim took a step to the side and back, so that he was slightly behind Yurdrn, then slid Marcus' open communicator down the corridor the way they had come as far as he could.
"Hear nothing," grunted Yurdrn, grasping Jim's arm and pulling him in front again.
"Could have sworn…" Jim pulled out his other communicator, pressing send.
"AAAAAAAAAAIIIIII GIIIIIIIBBBBBBBBLLEEEEEE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIII!" A terrible sound rang out in the empty corridor.
Yurdrn jerkily turned an about face, yelling "YOU STAY HERE!" He took his weapon from its holster and stalked in the direction of the sound, one great hand pressing the small sphere on his uniform repeatedly.
The horrid sound repeated, but Jim had already taken off down the descending path. He ran like a bat out of hell through empty halls as the corridor he was on perpetually declined further into the ship.
Jim had no direction in mind, and he knew that his deception would not last long. He prayed he would stumble across engineering, or an empty science lab, or even just a plain old computer terminal, but the corridors were bare. He did not dare duck into any of the sealed rooms that occasionally dotted the side halls.
Peaking around the corner of the corridor, he saw a Xiran soldier in full armor talking to an ensign.
"Don't worry, I'll be back in no time - it's just standard rifting today. And Bahsu will be there." The two embraced, then separated and split up.
Jim thought fast - he could get more information on the rift devices and try to see exactly what they could have done to Spock. Plus, the Federation would love to have additional intel on them. He followed the soldier at a careful distance down the hall, until the soldier stopped and punched in a code at a hip-height hatch about half the size of a doorway. He then opened the hatch, sat down on a ledge inside,and used a pole across the top to pull himself up while swinging his legs to face down into the depths. Jim watched as the soldier disappeared into the hatch. The door began swinging shut automatically.
Jim dashed over to the hatch before the door could shut. Pulling himself inside, he shoved off the ledge and launched himself down the chute. Sliding down the interior of the chute reminded Jim of waterslides from his childhood. There was a band of lights running along the ceiling, illuminating his journey. He weathered a series of curves that sent him riding high on the sides of the chute. Nervously looking ahead, Jim saw that the path was obstructed and ended in a dead end.
He scrabbled at the smooth surface of the chute, trying to slow his descent before he collided with the unforgiving wall that approached at top speed. His boots found no purchase, and so he curled into a ball, bracing for impact. No impact came, however. He looked behind him to see the 'wall' locking securely back into place. Another seemingly dead-end wall approached - Jim again braced himself, but this time he kept an eye on the 'wall' - it opened before him like clockwork.
The tube began leveling out, slowing Jim's speed. The slick surface of the chute also began to feel more rough, slowing his progress further. Jim slowly skidded to a halt as the tube broadened and ended at a door with a red light blinking over it.
Jim steadied himself, rising to his feet and approaching the door. "Here goes nothing," he said under his breath. As the door telescoped open, Jim lunged into the room and hid behind a stack of crates.
There were three rift devices arranged in the hangar Jim now found himself in, huge ones, bigger than the one on Hlish, big enough that you could virtually park a shuttle in the gap in the middle. They were over fifty meters from Jim, but he could see plenty of Xiran soldiers milling around them.
Wanting to get closer, Jim scouted out the rest of the room to no avail. Other than the crates he was hiding behind, there was no cover. And, Jim realised, his position was precarious, as more troops arrived through the chute entrance, coming dangerously close to Jim.
He had contorted his body into a crevasse among the crates, peering through a crack between them.
A familiar whine sounded in the hangar, followed shortly by that same intense pit-of-the-stomach feeling from Hlish. Jim suddenly realised his folly in following the soldier to this point. He didn't see any easy way out.
The soldiers across the room formed into neat lines in front of the devices, some carrying heavy equipment with them.
The rifts were opening, spiraling open much faster than on Hlish, growing to gargantuan proportions. Thinking about radiation, Jim flipped open his communicator, intending to report that he had gotten 'lost.' But the device was not working; it would not even chime.
Giving up all hope of getting out smoothly, Jim stood, breaking cover. He waved his arms around, trying to attract attention, but the soldiers seemed too focused on their tasks to notice Jim.
Jim's arms felt weary, and he wanted to sit down. He leaned heavily against a stack of crates, knocking them over. The crates thudded against the floor around him as he blacked out.
Come back to me… Jim heard a familiar voice in the shrouding night, recognizing it as Spock. You must fight, Jim. Do not leave me. He thought of Spock, of teasing him on the bridge and of his familiar face. He remembered his mission: to get Spock back to Earth. Jim, there will be time for missions later. Now, focus on my voice and follow it…
Jim groggily came back to consciousness. "Anyone get the designation of that freighter," he mumbled, eyes shut.
"There was no freighter involved in this incident, Captain." Spock's voice rumbled out, definitely harsher than usual - the tone reserved for ensigns caught goofing off on duty.
Jim forced his eyes open, taking in his surroundings. He saw four beds with what looked like sensor arrays in place over them in addition to his own. The walls were plain, white and solid looking. One wall had a force field across a doorway, but the field was opaque.
Jim dizzily sat up and looked at Spock, who sat on a bed across from his. He was removing armor pieces from his body, revealing a tight bodysuit underneath. So far he had removed the arm pieces, the helm, and the chest, and was currently bent down in the process of working on removing a boot.
"I guess I'm in trouble, huh?" Jim asked, wearily.
"You intentionally misled and evaded your security detail, and proceeded into dangerous and classified sections of the ship. Furthermore, you exposed yourself to a near-lethal dose of radiation." Spock paused in his methodical removal of armor, looking at Jim with hard eyes as he lifted his chin. "Your guess is correct, Captain. I must insist that negotiations no longer be held on the Sochya due to your behavior."
Jim opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. He decided to try a different tactic. "Spock, where are we?"
"We are in a decontamination unit that borders both the rift bay and a secondary medical facility. We both require decontamination."
"I get that I need it, but why do you? You're all dressed up in that fancy suit. Doesn't it protect you?"
"I removed a portion of the armor, breaking its seal against radiation, to ascertain your well-being after bringing you here from the rift bay."
"You did… what, exactly? Took my pulse?" Jim felt a wave of satisfaction at the idea of Spock looking out for him.
"I... performed a brief mind-meld."
Jim balked at what Spock might have seen in his head. "That's pretty intrusive, Spock."
"It was necessary. I believed you would die, Jim." Spock looked away. "I believed the radiation would kill you, and I would be helpless, again. We have no miracle cure to resurrect you."
"I'm not as reckless as you think, Spock. I wouldn't have gone down that chute if I knew it lead to an active rift."
"Yet you admit to entering it without knowing where it would lead. There are countless possibilities with outcomes worse than ending up in the rift bay, Captain." Spock unclipped the boot, placing it on the floor with a clunk.
"All's well that ends well. How long are we in here for?"
"We will need to experience three courses of treatment in addition to the one that has already passed. Treatment occurs every fifteen minutes." Spock removed his other boot with another clunk. "I approximate we will be confined to these quarters for the next 51.54 minutes."
"Great." Jim already felt antsy. He watched as Spock stood to remove the pants section of his armor, which ran down to his knees and no further. Spock turned to face away from Jim, hands running down the outside of his thighs, pressing buttons and undoing clasps.
Jim passively watched Spock, curious about the action of the armor. He noticed the ripple of musculature in Spock's back and arms as his motions made him bend slightly at the waist. The armor unclasped down a seam on the right side and then hinged away on the left, peeling away in moulded panels from his flesh.
Jim's traitorous brain short-circuited on the phrase ' nice ass' when Spock bent to place the armor on the ground. He blinked rapidly, refocusing his gaze on Spock's shoulders, which, his brain chimed in, were also quite nice.
Jim was an open-minded guy; he was used to being attracted to all types of people: alien, human, male, female, trans- or other-gendered. But this was the first time he found himself noticing Spock. Sure, he knew Spock was handsome, in the way all guys were aware of their peers, but he had never thought of him as attractive. Until now.
Jim scrubbed at his eyes. He needed to rest. This was all too much. "I'm just take a little nap, Spock."
"Sleep, Jim."
Jim closed his eyes on Spock sitting in a meditation pose on the bed.
Another dream plagued Jim's rest, a variation on the mystery-man dream he had a few nights ago. This time, his strong lover was carrying Jim across his quarters, his legs wrapped around the man's waist.
Depositing him gently on the edge of the desk, the man ran his fingers over the nape of Jim's neck and spine, cupping Jim's check with the other hand. Jim busily grabbed the man's ass, pulling their groins into alignment, letting out a groan as his dick felt the pulse of another through layers of clothing. They kissed messily, grinding against each other, and Jim reached up to caress a pointed ear.
"Spock," Jim moaned. A hand reached for him, grasping his shoulder...
And shaking. Jim snapped awake. Spock stared down at him, looking concerned. "You were having a nightmare, Jim." He could smell the unique scent that he had always associated with the Enterprise and safety, but now recognised as Spock. Jim's dick twitched hopefully.
"It was just a dream, Admiral. You can relax." Jim shifted awkwardly under the blankets. "How much longer until we're free?"
"We have two treatments remaining. I approximate 16.27 minutes until our release."
"I slept through a treatment?" Jim felt better, but he knew that no one had disrupted his sleep until Spock shook him awake.
"They are non-invasive and administered remotely. Another treatment approaches. Do not be alarmed."
"Alarmed about what?" Jim apprehensively sat up at the head of the bed, drawing his knees up.
The cabin was flooded with a great white light, blinding Jim momentarily. The light dimmed slightly, then focused into a beam of light which traveled across the room, panning back and forth as if in a search grid.
It reached Spock first, who sat serenely on the edge of his bed, locking on to him and illuminating him brightly for a few seconds.
Jim warily edged off the bed and away from the light's search pattern.
"Jim, do not avoid treatment. It is illogical."
"I wish I knew what that thing does!" Jim dodged as the light beam approached his location again.
"While the precise nature of the function of the treatment is classified, I can say that it heals radiation toxicity. Jim, desist."
Jim sighed and ceased his attempts at dodging, allowing the beam to overcome him. He felt sensations of cold and weightlessness before the light went away and he was back to himself.
"Weird." Jim walked back to the bed he had claimed as his own, sitting down across from Spock.
"I will have my medical staff forward you the details of your treatment once it is complete."
"Super." Jim focused on the time remaining. Not on the curve of Spock's lower lip, or counting the strands of grey that infrequently peppered Spock's hair.
Standing abruptly, Spock paced in the empty area of the room at the end of the bed. "Captain, I have a confession to make. I saw, in your mind, an impression that related to your mission."
"Tell me what you saw, Spock." Worry made Jim's fists clench. Spock saw the mission?
"I am aware that you have been tasked with returning me to Earth for questioning by Starfleet Command."
Jim tried to relax. "Spock, I would never force you to do anything against your will. I just want the chance to persuade you to come back to Earth."
"There would have to be… concessions… from the Federation to mollify the Union. They will not allow me to travel so far from the home planet without significant merit."
"Allow you? Why? Can't you go wherever you want?" Jim rose from the bed as well, walking toward Spock.
"My responsibilities are great, Captain."
"We'll persuade them, Spock. You'll be able to come back to Earth, see the Bay again, get some great food and meditate to your heart's content. It'll be a drag to have to appear in front of the white-hairs of Command, but honestly, how long would that take?" Jim walked around Spock, smiling optimistically.
"You minimize the weight of my position, Captain." Spock finally met his gaze. "I will make overtures among the Parliament to determine if I may go to Earth."
"Great." Jim grinned at Spock. A companionable silence descended.
Spock moved to restack his armor near the door, picking up a few pieces at a time. Jim perched on the end of Spock's bed, watching him wistfully.
"Hey, did you recognise that sound?" Jim's grin nearly split his face in two.
"To what do you refer?"
"That horrible sound I played on the communicator to distract Yurdrn, you know, Aiiiiiiiii gggggiiiiiiiiibbbbbbll…"
Spock's eyebrow crept up his forehead as he hefted the chest piece of his armor. "Cease your impression. I recognised it. It is the call of the species you wished to name the 'turkosaurus,' as I recall."
"It looked like a dinosaur turkey and it spat ink all over Bones!"
"He was unable to synthesize a compound to remove the dye from his skin."
"Yeah, he was purple for a week, until you finally diverted some science officers to help him out."
"He was not in any danger."
"You enjoyed seeing him like that, Spock."
Across the room, Spock makes no comment. He came back to Jim, picked up the armor boots, then turned to carry them to the shielded doorway.
An idea struck Jim, one he found he didn't like at all.
"They treat you all right here, Spock?" Spock did not answer, fussing with his armor. Jim grabbed his arm, pulling Spock up to face him. "Are you happy with the Xirans?"
"My situation is a necessary one."
"That's not an answer, Spock."
"The final treatment will occur in less than sixty seconds." Spock turned away, facing the shielded door.
Jim hesitated, feeling weak. "I hope you are happy. Someone should be. It has to be obvious that there's a Vulcan-sized hole in the Enterprise's heart."
Spock looked at the floor. "Treatment will occur in 30 seconds."
"And what kind of explanation have you offered to explain why you can't come back? Duty, responsibility? What about your responsibility to Starfleet? To your crew? To me?" Jim sputters to a stop.
"I have learned much about responsibility in my time among the Xirans, Captain. More than I ever wished to learn."
"Cut the cryptic crap, Spock. Are they holding you here against your will?"
Spock did not turn around. "No, Jim, I am here of my own accord. Final treatment in three, two, one."
Bright light washed over the room and focused on Spock, then Jim. Immediately afterwards, the opaque forcefield came down, revealing a squad of Xiran security officers, a host of what looked like Xiran medical personnel, and one red-faced, angry Bones.
"Nice stunt, Captain. Nearly got yourself killed, again." Bones' medical scanner whirred over Jim's form as Spock stalked out of the room, surrounded immediately by the medical staff.
One Xiran peeled away from the others in security and addressed Jim coldly. "You are no longer welcome aboard the UXSS Sochya. We will escort you to a transporter bay where we will beam you back to your ship."
" And," Bones continued as they walked out of the decontamination facility, "the only tour of their medical facilities I got was directly to the data terminals monitoring your life signs. With an armed guard babysitting me. The little they are willing to share about their voodoo-like decontamination procedure carefully obfuscates all details but your vital signs and completely omits any information on the technology that treated you. You had a deadly dose of radiation; they did something. I can't make heads or tails of this beyond that. Yet, here you are: pushing the limits of my patience instead of pushing up daisies."
"Well, that's a good thing right? Not dead? Everyone happier that way, right?" The guard they were following stopped to key in a code on a door, and they proceeded through the now-open doorway.
"We'll see who's happy after your stay in my medical bay." Bones rubbed his brow wearily, allowing himself to be herded up onto a raised platform in the center of the room. "The rest of the team has already beamed back to the Enterprise . Got nothing more than that done, as you managed to stay undetected for about thirty seconds."
Jim stepped up on the platform as well. His fists clenched as he refrained from responding.
From the side of the room, a Xiran crewman called out, "Cleared to transport to the Enterprise ."
The lead security officer's voice boomed out "Energise." Jim closed his eyes as they beamed back to his ship.