As they arrived at the set of coordinates mentioned by the second probe, Uhura made sure that she was on the bridge, even though she was technically off duty.

"Sensors indicate a third probe, Captain," said Spock

"I like a treasure hunt as much as the next guy, but this is starting to get a little old."

"Captain, the message is slightly more complex this time. It's repeating the words 'Save the innocents, while there is time' and it's repeating two sets of coordinates, and some kind of mathematical equation," said Uhura

"Math? That sounds like a job for everyone's favorite science officer." Uhura rerouted the translated equation to Spock. "Well, Mr. Spock?"

"I cannot be completely certain, but it looks like the formula for the rate of decay of the hydrogen core of a large star. "

"And that's used in order to -?"

"To predict when the star might go supernova, Sir."

"Do either of the sets of coordinates we received correspond to a star that might fit the equation?"

"The coordinates are close to the Neutral Zone, Captain, and to each other. The Federation has not completely mapped that area of space. Indeed, I had hoped that we would be able to add to that effort on this mission."

"Set course, Mister Chekhov. I suppose we'll figure out which set of coordinates to make a bee line for, once we get there and see the lay of the land."

Uhura looked over at Spock. She could tell he had barely understood a word of that last sentence.

"This mystery is really intriguing. At least I don't have to explain to Starfleet why we aren't heading in the right direction, since these mysterious Uruk-na have graciously provided us with a problem near our assigned area. If only all unknown species were so obliging. I think maybe, though, we'll keep this possible errand of mercy amongst ourselves. What Starfleet Command doesn't know, won't hurt them. How long until we arrive, Mr. Chekhov?"

"One week, two days, Captain."

"We'll just have to amuse ourselves in the meantime."

Kirk left the bridge with Chekhov, since they had the first lunch rotation that shift. Spock stepped over to Uhura.

"Lieutenant," he said quietly, "Please arrange a secure channel to Starfleet, using my authorization code." Uhura nodded, and complied with his request. Ten minutes later, she smiled as she looked over him. She didn't even need to ask. He was accessing her original report on the Uruk-na, taken from the Deep Space Array files, which were probably still classified. He and Kirk were so different, yet so similar. Neither could resist a treasure hunt.

Two days later, they were in her quarters, finally in for the evening. Starfleet Command had been asking for updates. Spock had spent the day composing some deliberately vague reports. Uhura looked over at him. He was seated at her desk, holding a PADD that he hadn't put down all day. When she looked at the screen, she saw that he had been running algorithms, mostly on the original transmissions they had received over the Deep Space Array. She put a hand on his shoulder. He nodded, and with a little reluctance, he put down the PADD. He changed into his pajamas. The last few times he had stayed over, Spock had brought what appeared to be traditional Vulcan night attire: a set of loose flowing pajamas that reminded Uhura of traditional men's wear in South Asia on Earth, except that Spock's outfit was entirely black. They weren't exactly regulation, and Uhura wondered whether they were a small gesture of mourning on his part. Perhaps she would ask, later, when his grief was less new.

As he waited for her to finish changing, he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, apparently lost in thought. She climbed into bed, and touched his arm.

"Your analysis of the Uruk-na was parsimonious, Nyota, almost admirably so."

"Is that a back-handed compliment, Spock?" Spock paused.

"Is that a metaphor from the sport of tennis?" he asked. She laughed.

"I'm not sure. I've never heard you praise a thin report before. That certainly wouldn't have been the case for any of the assignments you handed out when I was one of your students."

"My students at Starfleet Academy were usually asked to report on known phenomena. A thin report usually reflected a lack of attention to detail that was easily obtained through secondary sources. Your report, on the other hand, avoided the mistake common to many researchers of overinterpreting the data. You had very little data, and you resisted the temptation to conclude too much."

"Those algorithms you are running…"

'I am trying to triangulate the coordinates you received over the Deep Space Array with the locations of the probes. Perhaps we can determine a probable location for the Uruk-na's system of origin."

"Anything, so far?"

"One can narrow down several possibilities. There are still too many unknowns. Every algorithm yields two or three completely discrete locations. In addition, there is also the possibility that some of the coordinates in the original transmissions from the Deep Space Array were objects of interest, rather than locations that were necessarily close to their homeworld."

"You are trying to avoid overinterpreting your data?" she smiled.

"I am merely attempting to emulate your admirable example."

The second time she kissed him, her attempt to distract him from his work for was successful for the rest of the evening.

---------------------------------------------------------

The next few days were somewhat uneventful. Spock was running out of things to say in their updates to Starfleet. In a few days, they would be close enough to uncharted space that he could claim that they were engaged in mapping. He didn't tell the Captain, but he began drawing up suitable away teams, depending on what they found when they got to the coordinates. Would they end up making first contact with the Uruk-na? Would they have to initiate some kind of rescue of the "the innocents"? Either way, Spock felt that he was going to need an anthropologist, and a primary survey team. They would probably need Uhura, especially if they were making contact with the Uruk-na. His Vulcan hearing made their communications even more unpleasant for him than for the Captain and young Ensign Raymond.

When he needed to choose disaster specialists, he felt that it was time to get input from the Captain.

"Always thinking ahead, Spock."

"It is necessary for at least one bridge level officer to do so, Captain."

"Did you just insult me, Mr. Spock?"

"Captain, have you ever known me to engage in that kind of verbal horseplay?"

"No, I guess not. Alright, well, I think Lt. Pappandreou might be your man. When Nero attacked the fleet, he organized the evacuation of the Intrepid, then had his pod picked up by the Darwin, only to have to coordinate the evacuation of that ship. 50 percent of the crew complement saved in each case."

"Impressive, Captain."

"I think you'll also want someone who's good on the ground. Now, Ensign O'Malley is very good at search and rescue. She can set up a pulley system using only twigs and rocks like nobody's business. Such fast hands…" Kirk suddenly had a dreamy look on his face. Spock coughed.

"Would that be O'Malley with two l's, Captain?

"What? Yeah, I guess."

Three days remained until their arrival at the designated coordinates, and Spock didn't mind the downtime. As he sat at his post at the science station, he reflected on the fact that he was a profoundly changed man. Kirk had revealed to him their mission, to patrol the Federation edge of the Neutral Zone. Trouble was not expected per se, but Starfleet wanted to be cautious. It was feared that the Romulans might worry that the Federation would blame them for Nero's attack. If the Romulans feared some kind of retaliation by the Federation, they might launch a pre-emptive strike. Spock and Kirk had both had to admit the logic. The Enterprise was sent alone both to avoid alarming the Romulans, and because the Fleet was a little short on ships.

Yet, here they were, ignoring their mission, and Spock, who could quote regulations in his sleep, was not that concerned. Uhura had set up a daily contact protocol with the Federation outposts at the border. The coordinates to which they were headed were close enough to the Neutral Zone that if something immediate happened, they could arrive reasonably quickly. Spock had begun to accept that to serve with James Kirk meant to leave some of the rules behind. He was, truth to be told, intrigued by these probes, these "innocents".

What had been most gratifying had been his relationship with Nyota. He had been unsure how their working relationship would be affected by the closeness of their personal relationship, but he had found that they complemented each other very well. Nyota frequently anticipated his communications needs, opening channels and providing translations even before he had had a chance to ask. They also each had to spend some time off of the bridge, so they still had things to discuss in the evening. He realized that he should not have been surprised, since their excellent working relationship had originally given rise to their personal one.

He hadn't yet had the courage to move into her quarters permanently, or to invite her to move into his, but he found that other than his usual meditation periods, he did not wish to be without her. When he embraced her, felt her skin against his, he tried not to intrude on her thoughts too much, but he could feel her regard for him as if it surrounded him.

He spent the next few days trying to return some of the support that Uhura had given him. He brought her dinner after a late shift, repaired her door chime, learned the exact spots on her shoulders that would fade the tension that came from sitting in a chair all day.

Later, he would look back on that period and think of those days as idyllic.

"Commander Spock to the bridge. We've arrived at the coordinates."