The Thing It's Not

Well, now, this was unexpected.

Jim sank onto the edge of Spock's desk. He grinned a little. "Not 'biology,' then?" He couldn't keep the relief entirely out of his voice. Since he kinda had a secret thing for Spock's girlfriend, he was glad he wasn't going to be having that particular conversation.

"Not really, no." Spock replied. He was actually leaning back, now, against the wall. He even looked kinda… relaxed. Fascinating.

Well, alrighty.

Then it occurred to Jim: Spock was, apparently, amused by Jim's attempt to talk to him about sex; but not amused – not at all – about some particular other Vulcan thing. Now, that was interesting.

And if talking about sex – which, in these particular circumstances, was, to Jim, about as appealing as having his fingernails ripped out while in the midst of a root canal – was more relaxing than talking about whatever the thing actually was; then that, surely, was an indication of how serious a deal it was to Spock.

Might be a good time to revisit the whole "I'd like to understand you better – but you scare the hell out of me" scenario.

"Technically." Spock said, into the silence, as though the word was reluctantly drawn from him. All things considered, it probably was.

Technically?

Spock moved past him and lowered himself into the desk chair. Once more, he folded his hands. He looked at them a second. Then he exhaled: A perfect Vulcan non-sigh.

No, said Jim's mind. No, no, no.

Spock's eyes lifted to meet Jim's, then shifted to look at nothing, some 4 feet to Jim's left.

Jim found himself moving to the empty chair opposite Spock and sinking into it.

"'Technically,' -" Jim's voice had a rising inflection and he hoped that Spock would take it as a question and he would not have to formulate a question… that he really did not want to have to formulate.

Spock gave a small nod.

Jim waited, hoping (please, God?) that Spock would continue on his own.

The Vulcan's eyes were directed to something not floating a few inches off the corner of his desk. "That… person," Spock said, with admirable restraint (Jim translated it in his head to – well, worse) "did make reference to Vulcan reproductive practices. However, the majority of his discourse" ('discourse,' Spock, seriously?) "centered around other aspects of Vulcan physiology."

Before his mind got too engaged on that, Jim thought, he'd better say something. "Oh," he managed.

Spock's chin lowered again, by the tiniest amount: Another nod.

Spock's eyes rose once more to look at that spot off to Jim's left. Jim stopped himself - just barely - from turning to see what Spock was looking at. He kept his eyes on the Vulcan's face.

A minute later, his patience was rewarded with a slight movement at one corner of Spock's mouth, and then a flick of those red-brown eyes. This time Spock's eyes returned to his hands, still folded in his lap. They were veiled by pale lids and black lashes.

After long moments, Spock smoothly rose to his feet, and deliberately paced three steps away. Two steps back. Now he was leaning against the partition, arms folded once more.

He considered Jim for a few seconds before speaking.

"At the close of the Twentieth Century," Spock said conversationally, "Your Earth was populated by some 6 billion people. Although the majority denied the possibility, the planet's resources were in danger of becoming seriously strained. More humans were currently alive than the sum total of all who had lived on your planet up until that time.

"Your people had not yet developed space flight technology capable of carrying your civilization beyond the bounds of your atmosphere. If Earth had been destroyed at that time, humanity would have been wiped out utterly."

He knew this. Spock, he suspected, knew he knew this. Fascinating though it was (and unexcited as he was to get to the 'Vulcan physiology' part of the discussion), he hoped Spock would not lecture too much longer: It was pretty unnerving to hear Spock, of all people, talk about the destruction of planets.

Taking a page from the Vulcan's book, he hurried him along: He nodded - though, given his nervousness, perhaps more vigorously than he meant to.

Spock stopped talking and looked at him in silence.

Trying to keep his face perfectly blank, Jim met those inscrutable eyes. Until that instant, he had forgotten Spock had been both Lecturer and Instructor at Starfleet Academy. He now had the uncomfortable impression that he'd just tossed Spock unceremoniously out of 'one-of-these-days-we-might-be-friends' mode and into 'scary Vulcan Professor' mode.

But maybe that was just him.

Jim could feel Spock's eyes intent upon him for one full second after he, himself, blinked. The Vulcan straightened, and clasped his hands behind his back. When he spoke, the tone of his voice was slightly duller. Jim wondered whether that was an indication Spock was disappointed.

That flat Vulcan voice continued: "Once Earth did develop practical space flight technology, multiple planets with suitable locations for settlements were identified. Humans quickly spread throughout the surrounding quadrant of the Orion Spur. They have sought - continuously - without cease - similar worlds to exploit: By the time this starship was launched," (Which day was that? Uncomfortable now, thanks,) "Earth contained some 13 billion inhabitants; and that many more were located on various Earth and other Federation Member colonies, bases and vessels."

Jim's brain caught up at that: Really? There were, like, 26 billion Human beings out there?

It appeared that Spock could read him better than he could read Spock. The Vulcan's voice was a touch dry: "Your species is nothing, if not prolific."

About 10,000 clever responses went through Jim's mind at that point.

Spock waited while Jim sorted through them to find one that the Vulcan might actually think was funny.

When no quip seemed to be forthcoming, Spock spoke again. "There are many, often contradictory, reasons for humans to choose to leave their planet of origin. However, one constant has been proven: Humans, in their constant need to expand their horizons, have carried the basics of their homeworld existence with them into their new environments."

Jim hadn't really thought much about how his people were perceived by others. Yes, he had studied Xenosociology, and had had multiple classes and seminars in First Contact Protocol, Interspecies Ethics, and related topics; but he hadn't really thought about what, given a similar course of study, those other species might learn about his own. He filed this away for further consideration later. It was obvious that Spock had a great deal of insight – He filed that away, too.

He began to feel a little hopeful. Maybe he and his Second-in-Command might actually develop a friendship one day. Here he'd been trying to find ways to include Spock in stuff he enjoyed, himself – So far, he had failed miserably at forging a meaningful connection. He hadn't really considered that, given half a chance, the Vulcan would probably provide perceptive and interesting conversation.

What, he wondered absently, did Spock truly enjoy?

Now he realized that his Science Officer was giving him the most basic of briefings - and that, although there were things here to think about, his attention had wandered.

Jim glanced up. Spock was patiently waiting.

Jim nodded, and Spock continued: "When humans travel, the cargo holds of their ships are full. They do not limit themselves to basic equipment, and necessities for the mission at hand. Indeed, to humans, it seems, non-essentials - even luxuries - are indispensable."

Remarkably, Spock's voice contained no judgment upon what was, apparently, to Vulcan sensibilities, a peculiar phenomenon.

Well, maybe not remarkable: This was Spock, after all…

"Yet, humans will embrace what they find on new worlds, provided these discoveries can substitute for things already commonplace within Earth culture. Humans will incorporate the new, and cheerfully adapt. This adaptability is a primary facet of the Human condition. Your species continues to eat the same substances, and add; wear the same garments, and add; perform the same activities, and add. Things that are no longer of relevance are simply discarded."

That last was certainly true.

When Spock said it, the assessment seemed kinda generous.

As for the rest? "You're right, Spock, of course. On one training cruise, we even carried sheep as cargo for the weavers on DuBois 4."

"Precisely. You illustrate my point very well. Resources are abundant on that world, (and are exported profitably), yet humans prefer, if possible, to have that element of home."

Spock was silent for a long moment. Jim wondered what he was thinking.

Spock's eyes came back to rest on Jim; but idly, as though his thoughts were still distant. After a minute, his gaze sharpened. Jim was ready to listen when he spoke again. "One unintended effect of human colonization methods is the preservation of Terran plant and animal life. Humans enjoy consuming corn; therefore they take corn seed with them into space. They enjoy wearing wool, so they transport sheep by starship. As humans have spread and thrived, so have the transplanted flora and fauna of Earth."

Jim thought about that, and about the sheep they had had to transport. He wasn't sure why Spock was telling him all this, but the baaing had been funny. He grinned. "That's cool, right?"

Spock didn't sigh.

For a second, Jim thought that the Vulcan was going to exercise his apparent House Rule and ignore the question; but, evidently, that was only a one-time thing.

Spock crossed to the chair behind his desk, and sat, his spine very straight. He didn't speak for another second or two.

"Though the competition of the imported lifeforms with those indigenous to the worlds in question has not always proven to be of benefit to the native population, this aspect of Human methodology has certainly proven beneficial for the lifeforms thus introduced." The Vulcan delivered this speech in a voice almost toneless.

For a minute, Jim forgot to hear Spock's words: He was too busy trying to analyze what Spock's voice was telling him. There was conflict hidden deep in there – disappointment? Disapproval? And what? Appreciation? No, not quite… Jim blinked.

He glanced over at Spock, whose face was even more empty than his voice. Jim shook his head a little, and gave a wry grimace. "Sorry, Spock, you're gonna have to say that again."

Spock sat in silence and looked at him.

It occurred to Jim that this was, by far, the longest conversation the two of them had ever had.

They seemed to have come a long way from 'Vulcan physiology' – and seemed to be getting further away still, rather than closer. Not that he was complaining.

He looked back at his Science Officer. He was sure Spock had some point for telling him all of this.

"It has not always been so 'cool' for the native species, Captain," Spock said. His voice was carefully neutral: Jim listened for sarcasm, but it was strangely absent.

"However," Spock continued, "corn and sheep are plentiful, and the people are happy."

Jim was gleeful at hearing Spock talk almost like a normal person – right up until it became obvious how difficult this was for him.

The Vulcan stood and moved away, betraying something disturbingly close to anxiousness.