Oopsie! I'm sorry for the slightly longer wait, but I've been writing Hate This a LOT, and grande final chapter is being long and obstinate (no doubt it doesn't want to end *sigh*). Anyway, I like to think of this chapter as The Pancake Chapter. Why? Because quite a few things happen in it but the most relevant, somehow, seems to be the pancake XD

Chapter Three: Veritas et Utilitas

Starbase Theta was a brand new facility built near the Class K planet Abscido II, and Jim had never been there before.

He didn't know much about it beyond what was in the ship's archives, nor was he familiar with the Commodore who ran it (a certain decorated Commodore Emerett), but Spock had told him they had an incredibly advanced science program which his First Officer had sounded very interested in.

Jim, however, was far from looking forward to their arrival. In fact, part of him was still waiting to wake up from the worst nightmare in history, and discover no one was examining his relationship with his closest friend in uncomfortable, minute detail, and he could still live with the certainty that Spock was his and nothing could tear them apart. Because he felt as though some kind of cruel, terrible practical joke had been played on them both and he was just waiting for the punchline. And it just never came.

"So how long will this whole process last?" McCoy asked him on the way to the transporter room.

"Well, it begins in ten days but I have no idea how long it will actually go on for," Jim replied, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in his stomach; he hated all the attention he was going to get when they beamed down. Good thing there were no media on the Starbase; he'd had enough of those people back on Earth, after getting command of the Enterprise and before leaving on his first mission. "Everyone has shore leave and free use of the facilities until further notice, except a couple of people from Maintenance and Engineering, of course."

"Engineering?" His CMO sounded surprised as they rounded a corner. "We haven't had any problems, have we? I'm sure Maintenance can handle her for now, I mean, she's docked and everything."

"Yes, that's what I figured too, but on second thought-"

"Scotty refused to leave."

"Yup."

"Fantastic. Well, I'm certainly looking forward to some rest, but..." and here McCoy's eyes clouded, and he stopped Jim by grabbing his arm. "I'm real sorry it's at the expense of you two... it's unfair, and stupid, and you've been working so hard and you don't deserve this."

"Look, don't worry about it. I'm sure everything will be fine." But he couldn't quite meet the doctor's eyes as they started walking again. "Spock and I are meeting our lawyer today, too."

"That's great."

The false cheer in his friend's voice made Jim smile quietly. "Thanks, Bones."

"For what?"

But he forgot about answering when they entered the transporter room, to find Spock already waiting for them inside. "Hey, you're here!"

"... Yes."

The Captain rubbed his hands happily and walked over to the panel. "Scotty, are we ready to beam down?"

"Aye, sir."

"Good. Are you coming with us, Bones?"

"I just told you I still have to finish packing. And Ensign Reeves needs a last-minute check-up before he's allowed to walk, let alone go around beaming places. Unlike some Starship Captains that seem to think they can just decide-"

"Okay, okay, we'll see you around, then." Jim said hastily, eyeing Spock, who was following the exchange with interest. If his first officer was under the impression that Jim was medically cleared to do whatever he wanted, well then, that just meant he had interpreted Jim's (completely unintentionally misleading) comments regarding his discharge in a way that wasn't entirely... accurate.

"Remember to take it slow. Rest. You should be in bed at this very moment," McCoy kept speaking with a stern tone. Spock's eyes narrowed a fraction and Jim groaned internally.

"I'm fine."

"And give me a call once you've talked to the attorney. Tell me how it went," the doctor added. At this Jim couldn't resist an unexpected smiled, feeling touched at how someone seemed to really, genuinely care what happened to him. He'd never stop being surprised at stuff like that.

"Definitely."

"Oh, and goodbye to you too, Spock. Good luck."

"The concept of luck-" But the doctor was walking away with an amused chuckle.

Spock turned to Jim with a hint of exasperation in his eyes, and they both walked to the platform.

"'Doctor McCoy is a most illogical, flawed Human.'"

"Captain?"

"What? That's what you were going to say, wasn't it, Spock?"

Spock didn't answer but his expression was harder to dechyper this time; probably repressing the urge to sigh or something. Jim winked at him anyway.

"Scotty, are they ready for us?"

"Aye, Commodore Emerett is waiting to greet you personally."

"Really?" That wasn't exactly a good sign, and Jim was instantly suspicious. "Well, let's hope he hasn't brought an entourage with him. Energize."

The transporter room disappeared in front of his eyes and then he knew of nothing else until another, unfamiliar room came into view.

He'd been right to expect a welcoming-committee. Possibly even a tad optimistic; the word 'committee' seemed to imply some sort of organized force.

Starbase Theta was one of the newest and largest in the galaxy, and therefore housed an incredible number of officers; scientists, engineers, maintenance people, etcetera. It seemed to Jim at that moment as though they had all attempted to cram themselves in the one small room and not entirely succeeded, and so had spilled out into the corridor. And probably the entire floor. Maybe even the whole Deck.

Lovely.

Standing a few feet in front of everyone was a tall, gray-haired man with the self-assured air of one who is comfortable in his rank, and knows it's a high one.

"Young Captain Kirk, at last. Welcome to Starbase Theta."

The Commodore's deep voice held a touch of condescension Jim caught immediately. Nevertheless, Jim stepped off the pad and offered his hand, and Emerett shook it.

They had communicated before the Enterprise docked, but up-close the effect of the man's imposing figure was lessened by the slight strain of his belt and what had to be the beginnings of a second chin.

"Thank you, sir. This is Commander Spock, my first officer."

"Commander." Emerett nodded at Spock, then waved carelessly behind him. "This is my assistant, Neil Dervin." A man Jim hadn't even noticed carrying a large stack of PADDs waved awkwardly from Emerett's left. "I hope you will both feel at home here during your... stay."

Jim resisted the urge to snort in derision and plastered a diplomatic smile on his face. "Well, I can't honestly say I'm glad to be here, but it's an honour to meet you, Commodore."

An artificial-sounding laugh greeted these words, made all the more contrived by the very conspicuously silent crowd watching them.

"Yes I, too, wish the circumstances were different..." Assessing brown eyes moved from Jim to Spock again and back. "... but I've already informed Starfleet Command that I don't plan on having you followed around by security men all day."

"Huh. Seeing as how that's not really standard protocol when there is no murder charge, I don't see how you could have done any different. But thank you all the same, sir."

It was then that Jim decided he definitely didn't really like Emerett much. Clearly the feeling was mutual, by the grimace the Commodore gave him in return.

"So, I trust my crew has caused no problems? The base looks amazing but it must be hard to accommodate four-hundred extra people."

"I'm told everyone has settled in perfectly, Captain. Our facilities are more than capable of housing up to a thousand officers."

"Wow, that's great."

Oops. He should have probably said 'that's excellent' or 'that's marvellous', and not 'wow'. But the indignant expression on the Commodore's face made the little slip worth it.

"Very well then, Neil will have someone show you to your assigned quarters."

He couldn't resist; "Awesome."

Something about his cheeky tone must have irritated the man, because Emerett dropped his pretense of good-humour for a second, to add: "I was informed that you asked for adjoining rooms."

Jim paled. The crowd began muttering and frowning.

"Good luck explaining that to the jury, Captain."

It wasn't true, of course, but he couldn't exactly call out the decorated Commodore in front of so many people, no matter how much he may want to. And yet... Jim's automatic repulsion for authority figures notwithstanding, the man had just ridiculed him in public by lying.

"That's weird, I don't remember making such a request. Are you sure you're not going senile?"

The whispers ended abruptly, giving way to shocked expressions and, to Jim's grim satisfaction, a couple of badly-concealed admiring looks.

Emerett snorted. He was a wonderful actor. "You fancy yourself a funny guy, Kirk? I look forward to seeing you use that sharp wit to defend yourself in court."

"I look forward to it too." Jim grinned brightly. "Defending myself, I mean, not seeing you again anytime soon."

And he swept out of the room, aware of the fact that he had just done something incredibly stupid and reckless but too angry to care.

"That was not a wise action, Captain," Spock said quietly as they made their way through the throng of officers.

"I know."

There was a pause.

"You did not actually request our rooms be adjoining, I assume?"

Jim was surprised. He had thought Spock knew him well enough by now not to have to question something like that.

"Of course not."

"I thought it a preposterous notion."

"... Then why did you even ask?"

x

In the end the lawyer was assigned by Starfleet, so they never got to choose who their defense would be. All Jim knew of the man was his name; Nathaniel Moss, and that in the quick search he'd done before they arrived he'd come across a very impressive record of successful cases, not to mention that when Admiral Pike had called to unofficially wish them good luck, he'd congratulated them on landing one of the best, which was definitely encouraging.

So far, they knew absolutely nothing of the prosecution.

After the short walk to their quarters (turned out they actually had been given adjoining rooms) Kirk and Spock contacted the Enterprise.

"Wanna bet I can give Scotty the perfect coordinates so my clothes appear inside the cupboard?" Jim asked playfully. They had ten minutes to kill before meeting Mr Moss, and he knew the Chief Engineer would be bored, since there were very few people left to beam down.

Spock raised a sceptical eyebrow and didn't answer, but Jim thought he detected a flash of amusement in his first officer's expression.

"Hey Scotty, hang on a sec before you beam down our luggage, okay?" he called into the communicator.

"Aye, so long as you're not planning on changing the coordinates last minute."

Ignoring his engineer's chagrined tone, Jim went to the room's computer and began typing in an incredibly complex and detailed equation as quickly as he could.

"Factor in... what, two point one metres per floor, Spock?"

"Two point zero ninety-four."

"Perfect, and I think this is Deck 5..." his fingers danced over the keyboard in practiced ease, and he was so bent on the task he didn't notice the way Spock was looking at him.

And that was a good thing, too.

"Okay, I think I've got it."

Spock handed him the communicator and Jim recited the new coordinates he'd calculated. Scotty became immediately interested once he realized what they were going to do.

"The space is a tad too small for what we've got here... but 'tis an interesting notion, perhaps if we factor in a compression module..."

"Yeah, but a small one, maybe make it a 29 over 30 ratio just in case? I don't want all my shirts to be able to fit inside my allergy medicine box."

There was a pause.

"It's tiny."

"'O course, Captain."

"Good... are you ready, Scotty?"

"Perhaps it would be prudent to move away, Captain."

A warm, strong hand closed over Jim's arm. For a second he forgot what he'd been about to say as he turned to look at Spock, to try and catch some emotion in those eyes... because Spock never touched him. Ever. Not casually, at least. Not unless he was choking him to death, that one time, or yesterday when Jim had almost had a panic attack.

So this was... unprecedented (he really didn't think he was about to get thrown onto the first available flat surface right now... and choked). And it was weird, and strange, and totally unlike his first officer at all.

"Uh... what?"

In his astonishment he'd completely lost track of what was going on.

"While I cannot find a single flaw in your calculations, caution dictates we step back in the event of any unforeseen complications," Spock said reasonably. Jim blinked a couple of times and tried to clear his fuzzy head. Huh, maybe Bones had been right about him needing bed rest?

Spock was still touching him, which was distracting.

"Yeah... yeah, good idea."

Finally the hand slid away and they both took a few steps backwards.

"Okay Scotty, energize!"

It worked... mostly.

His favourite wrap-around shirt was the only one that didn't make it, but Spock consoled him by pointing out that he could simply replicate it again, though he 'personally saw no sense in wearing it so often, if the garment is not even the appropriate command-gold' to which Jim shrugged and replied 'I have a thing for the colour green'.

x

"D7:13 and... D7:14. This is it."

"Mr Moss' office cannot be here," Spock said flatly.

"This is the place he asked to meet us, Spock. Deck 7 Room 14."

It was the cafeteria.

"Then what activities do you propose we engage in while we wait for Mr Moss to arrive?" Spock said with an inquisitive eyebrow.

Too easy, Jim thought with a grin, and said; "Let's eat breakfast. I'm starving."

He walked inside first, took a tray and walked over to the replicators, ignoring the stares they drew from every officer in the crowded mess hall.

"Aren't you gonna eat something, Spock?"

"I do not need sustenance at this time."

"Suit yourself."

Jim was delighted to note that the Starbase allowed for a wider selection of foods than his own ship, and asked for some pancakes, besides his usual coffee.

"You have spoken of this meal before, Captain," Spock said curiously over his shoulder. Jim was surprised he'd remembered, since it had been at least three or four months ago during a particularly long and boring shift that he'd started daydreaming about warm pancakes oozing sugary syrup and smothered in cream.

"Yeah. You wanna try one?"

He scanned the place for a free table, and found a small one right in the middle of the room. It would have to do, even though the whispered conversations not quite out of ear-shot weren't exactly welcoming.

"... Perhaps I shall."

They sat down and Jim sighed, the sense of companionship and warmth he usually felt around Spock betrayed by his ever-present instincts attuned to danger. He was already thinking ahead, as to why the attorney had asked to meet them like this, and trying to judge if they could really trust anyone working here as an ally or whether everyone was waiting to see the premature young Captain crash and burn in a scandalous trial.

"I must admit I find the smell... intriguing," Spock murmured absently, eyeing the plate with focused, meticulous intent, which was actually kind of hilarious, and found Jim wishing he could take a picture of the moment or something: 'Spock Versus the Pancake, A Love Story'.

"The taste is even better, I promise," Jim grinned, instantly cheered, and cut a piece of soft, steaming dough, then soaked it in the sweet liquid.

"Here, try it."

Suddenly there was a suspended moment when Jim, unthinkingly, proffered the fork toward Spock as though he intended to feed his First directly, and then paused, panic locking his limbs.

Spock's eyes flickered to the utensil and then back to Jim's face, but he didn't say anything, apparently settling to wait and see what his Captain would do.

But Jim was frozen. There was a loud thundering sound in his ears that might have been his pulse, and he felt weird, like his skin was burning, but with ice...

And then Spock leaned forward without meeting Jim's eyes and a completely inscrutable expression, and gently took the fork from his hand, careful not to touch their fingers.

Jim's throat went dry as he watched Spock's mouth close over the dripping, golden morsel and then pull back, leaving a moist trail on the silver prongs and calling his attention to the fact that Spock's tongue... well... existed...

"James Kirk?"

"Mr Moss!" Jim jumped up so abruptly his chair nearly toppled over, and he scrambled to catch it before it fell while at the same time extending a hand to the lawyer. Nathaniel Moss was a plump, dark-eyed gray-haired man, at least a head shorter than Jim, wearing a light brown coat instead of any of the regulation uniforms and carrying what looked like... a book.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain Kirk. I've heard..." here Moss glanced at Spock wearily, the half-Vulcan was still chewing with a perfectly blank face and hadn't even acknowledged him. "... so much about you."

"Spock just had pancakes with syrup for the first time. Give him a second," Jim said in a mock confidential whisper.

"I see." Moss smiled faintly back, seemingly in spite of himself.

Finally Spock stood up next to Jim, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Mr Moss," he said, inclining his head in a polite nod.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Commander Spock. We should really get going, my office is all the way on Deck 4..."

"Wait." Jim's expression hardened and he put a hand on the man's shoulder. So far the lawyer seemed deceptively friendly, but the Captain didn't trust him yet.

"Listen, I get that you can't always believe your clients or whatever bullshit it is that you were thinking when you asked us to meet you here. But I want to make something perfectly clear, sir." He took a step forward so he was towering over the shorter man. "You don't mess with us. You don't conduct little tests, or experiments, on us. You walk up to us and ask, directly. I don't like feeling manipulated, and that's exactly what you did just now."

"Captain Kirk, I think I'll do whatever I feel is necessary to ensure we'll win this case. And if that includes a little observation of your behaviour in a social setting, then that's what I'll get," Moss shot back immediately; his affable tone now unimpressed and sharp.

Well. At least he wasn't intimidated easily, and the man's regret sounded sincere when he added: "However... I am sorry. I never wanted to alienate you; we're a team here, and we're facing this together."

Captain and First Officer exchanged a glance.

"Thank you." Spock said curtly, and started walking. Somehow, somewhere, there had been a threat in those two words. Jim smiled to himself, managing to forget what had happened before Mr Moss arrived, and strode after Spock, matching the half-Vulcan's fast pace so they could talk a while more without interference.

"Are you going to admit the pancake was good? I told you it was good," he said smugly. Spock pretended to consider it.

"While I maintain that taste is irrelevant in the face of nutritional value... the pancake was... acceptable."

Jim grinned triumphantly, managing to forget, too, the pair of beady eyes fixed on their elegant forms, cataloguing every gesture, every look.

And he didn't hear Moss mutter to himself: "Oh boy. This is worse than I thought."

But Spock did.

Heehee *is sneaky* See what I did there?

Also, see how I very pointedly DID NOT ask for any reviews, comments, or otherwise beg for words of criticism about this chapter because hearing your thoughts makes me grin like a rather silly person and oh so happy?

SEE? :3