Chapter 10: The Cold Shoulder

Ethereal notes had escaped beyond Spock's cabin, the ordered sounds resounding through the hallway beyond his door before fading away into the stillness of the evening in Officer's Country. It was "night" on the Enterprise, and the lights were dimmed throughout the ship's corridors to better simulate an earth-like circadian rhythm. Most of Alpha shift was by now relaxing or getting ready for bed while the Beta shift took over general operations and routine maintenance. The Enterprise herself was gently humming as she glided through space at low warp. The ship and her crew settled down for a quiet and uneventful evening.

The soothing hum and slight vibration of the deck plates coupled with the soft ambiance of the ship's darkened corridors were usually both comforting and deeply calming, but as McCoy paced down the passage towards their ultimate destination, he felt as though he were walking into a great, murky unknown.

"You're not going to chicken out now are you?" Kirk walked one step ahead of McCoy as they made their way down the deck, their boots clicking subtly across the metal plates. As always, Kirk forged ahead despite the bit of dread he felt in the pit of his stomach, the bourbon leaving him feeling as if his belly was tied in knots.

McCoy bristled slightly and let out a harrumph.

"Cluck, cluck, no. I suppose at this point it's my duty as an officer if not that of a gentlemen. And, perhaps it would be better if I served up my portion of crow and ate it before I can really taste it." McCoy patted his stomach, and unbeknownst to Kirk also felt a sting in his guts as if a ball of acid was churning inside him.

Both men stopped together in front of the doorway of Spock's quarters in mutual hesitation. They had of course been in there hundreds of times, but with an expected 110°F plus internal temperature, and with practiced care they took a moment to prepare.

Fanning the flames of hell indeed, Kirk mused to himself.

"Let's just get this over with, Jim. That bourbon is making me sleepy, and considering how warm you know it's gonna be in there, I don't want to risk dozin' off and closing my eyes." McCoy squinted one eye and feigned a yawn for emphasis while rocking back on his heels.

"You can sleep when you're dead, Bones. You might as well apologize now before you procrastinate yourself out of a good honest exorcism. Anyways, I don't think Spock could be that miffed. I can hear him playing his harp." Kirk moved his ear closer to the door to listen. "A movement by Salet of T'lingShar, if I'm not mistaken."

"You would know that, wouldn't you?" McCoy shook his head and pursed his lips together in a sour scowl. "Yeah, I'm sure he's as sociable and warm as ever, ready to greet us with a slice of pie and an even heartier smile. Pfft! Damn it, how did you convince me to do this in the first place?"

"Considering you convinced yourself before dragging me along, I'm surprised you'd even be arguing at this point." Kirk cocked an eyebrow at McCoy, imitating their quarry beyond the door. "Well, we've made it this far; we might as well finish the mission. Doctor, if you will do the honors, please." Kirk stepped aside and with exaggeration motioned towards the glowing amber call button.

Glaring, McCoy bit his lower lip as he pressed the illuminated switch beside the cabin door, signaling their presence. The lilting reverberations of the harp abruptly ceased and for a moment a tense silence hung in the air. Methodical foot falls approached as the door whooshed open and Spock stepped forward. He stood in the doorway like a foreboding storm cloud, illuminated by the reddish glow from within and barring the path of his visitors from immediate entrance. His features unreadable, Spock let the silence persist for a few moments before addressing his visitors.

"Admiral. Doctor." Each syllable was spoken with a cold and sterile perfection of inflection.

Don't try to tell me he isn't pissed off now!

McCoy didn't have to say it for Kirk to read his all too expressive message loud and clear. If there was one thing Spock could do in an instant, it was put down a sheet of ice in the heat of summer you could skate on without him even moving a muscle. Admittedly, Kirk thought it was a pretty great party trick except when it was directed at him personally. If it had been under more dire circumstances, it would have been downright terrifying. Not willing to be cowed, Kirk met his friend's frosty gaze before uttering acknowledgment.

"Spock."

Kirk bowed his head somewhat to show a polite deference but kept his eyes steady. McCoy picked up the hint and followed suit with the same behavior.

Over many years and experiences with his first officer and friend, Kirk had learned that subtle motions tended to make a better impact in everyday interactions with Vulcans. Whereas humans relied on more overt gestures, Vulcans were more apt to cooperate if you showed a little control and, well, logic in your bearing. In the unusual case of dealing with an irritated Vulcan, it was important, imperative even, that you didn't back down or make any sudden wild movements.

For all their emotional control and peaceful overtures, Kirk knew better. This was a species born millennia ago to war and dynastic rule, whose ancestors had nearly annihilated themselves in bitter clan disputes only to be saved by the grace of Surak's Logic. While they may spend their lives mastering their emotions, to think a Vulcan did not possess any feelings or that they couldn't hurt you was just plain stupid. He had a chest scar and evidence of prior cracked ribs to prove it, and the memory of the stinging blade of a lirpa made him want to instinctively rub his sternum. And, while he didn't believe their little chat would come to blows and he most certainly trusted his best friend with his life, he had learned not to test Spock after a certain point. You never know, he might decide to try out his Vulcan Death Grip on you. Kirk also knew the ancient ceremonial clan weapons Spock kept in his quarters weren't just museum pieces either, and the ancient ahn-woon pegged on the adjacent cabin wall was not entirely for show.

It had also been some time since Spock had treated either of his friends to his equivalent of the cold shoulder, and Kirk was certain there was far more to the situation than just a few tactless words. Shivering internally, it got him thinking back to the V'Ger incident only a few years in the past.

The ship had been in deep trouble after an intermix imbalance had nearly killed them all and the warp field degenerated into a wormhole. Kirk had been fighting against the uncertainty of the unknown probe as well as his own personal misgivings of captaining the Enterprise after being shown up by Decker. Of course, Will was just doing his duty and to be fair, he did save the ship by ordering against phasers but at the time Kirk felt angry and more like an outsider on the bridge than a commanding officer. After all, he may have been promoted but the Enterprise would always be his ship as far as he was concerned. Amid the chaos, and with the crew desperately pinned down by the hand of fate and seemingly helpless to intercept V'Ger, Spock had appeared unannounced and out of the void with his usual perfect timing. He had not even signaled his identity at arrival and only requested permission to board without pretense. It was quite a shock to everyone as he exited the turbolift and stood on the bridge larger than life for the first time since the five-year mission had ended. Most chilling of all had been the vacancy and distance he exhibited toward his fellow crew mates, many of whom at one time considered him as the closest of friends. Abrupt and all business, it was clear that Spock was utterly an island unto himself. Kirk became in those uncertain moments aware that everything he felt sure about his best friend was merely a sheen on the surface and what had only seemed like a lingering cold for years had somehow been replaced with the subzero vacuum of undifferentiated, impartial logic. No familiarity, no closeness, no sign that Spock even registered any of them on his sensors. It had devastated Kirk like a silent gravitic mine and made him feel even more alone on the bridge than he had ever before.

McCoy thought about darker memories to himself much as Kirk did, and gulped slightly while trying not to fidget. Well, here's hoping there aren't any lirpas or spiteful fiancés hidden in his coat closet.

Spock remained frigid and seemingly indifferent to their presence. His hooded, acute stare made it clear as dilithium crystals that he was making a critical assessment of both men, yet he gave no indication of his findings so far. He hadn't budged a muscle except to succinctly speak and flick his glare from one man to the next. He most definitely did not look like he was in the mood for a heart-to-heart over tea and crumpets.

McCoy could imagine his veins turning to ice water and shuddered. Damn Kolinahru parlor tricks! If he's just screwing with us, I'm going to reconsider this whole apology business. He kept his eyes lowered despite his internal argument. If anyone hated standing on ceremony, it was him.

Taking the plunge for both of them, Kirk remained resolute as he stated their business.

"We don't want to take up much of your time, we know it's late but… we were hoping to talk with you for a minute about what happened earlier. If you don't, we under-"

"You may enter, but I request that you please be brief."

Cut off mid-sentence. Kirk knew that he could assume there would be no raspberry tarts to go with this tea party, either.

Moving aside to allow his guests to pass, Spock remained inexpressive as he ushered Kirk and McCoy inside. As expected it was unbearably hot, and it appeared the firepot had been recently stoked. The lute was hung back in its nook. Nothing was out of order and as usual it was almost too neat, if that were even possible. Compared to humans, Vulcans always seemed near obsessive in their fastidiousness. Kirk observed that Spock didn't offer them a seat like he usually did, or turn down the temperature to something more tolerable to human comfort. Kirk almost regretted winning the staring match and was tempted to call his own bluff, but it was too late as he heard the automatic door swish behind them. There was no use delaying the inevitable, and in his own spiteful way he was looking forward to one hell of a good act of contrition on behalf of McCoy.

If I can take on few Klingons, you'd think with a team we could take on one peeved Vulcan. Easier said than done. Damn, in this heat I'd think even a Vulcan popsicle should melt a little.

Hands to his side, eyes straight and confident, Kirk began what they had set out to do.

"It's obvious you aren't too keen on our social call, so I won't hold you in suspense. We both want to apologize for earlier in Sick Bay. It was rude and a breach of trust for us to make jokes about something that is a sensitive subject and culturally taboo. We should not have been so callous. Even after so many years together, it's apparent we can still put our foot in our own mouths, so to speak."

"Apologies are illogical." Spock's manner was steadfast and formal, and to McCoy it almost seemed as if he'd grown a few extra inches to tower over them.

I knew he was going to drag his infernal logic into this! McCoy raised a brow at Kirk with a telling "I told you so" expression.

His tone had remained cool and remote but Spock placed his hands neatly behind his back and cocked his head slightly to the right, a gesture construing that he may not have been enthusiastic to discuss recent events (if one could even use the word) but that he was at least receptive to listening.

"That may well be true, but nonetheless we felt it was necessary. Bones?" Turning to the Doctor, Kirk made it clear it was time for him to step up and recite his bit.

Shifting slightly and having already begun to sweat, McCoy started his confession in the only way he knew how; a rebuke. His uniform collar dug into his throat, and he absently tugged at it to relieve the hot strangling sensation of stiff cloth against his neck.

"Sometimes I forget that even with that thick hide of yours, you're still susceptible to a splinter now and again. I shouldn't have heckled you, especially when I know you've got your own cross to bear. Family is important, and nothing is worse than when you are required to watch from a distance with your hands tied. You don't need me to play Judas and crucify you… I'm sorry, Spock."

Spock's features softened slightly as his friend continued his guilt-ridden confession. While it was true that McCoy had irked him, as much as he did not want to admit it, the Doctor's customary taunting wasn't enough of an offense to warrant such a gushing admission of fault. Although McCoy could be as biting and irritating as a Loracus spitting termite and annoying to the nth degree, he was honest to a fault and one of the most loyal individuals Spock had ever met. He considered him to be one of his closest friends and was even somewhat fond of their continuous banter, although he would never admit it. Spock was also keenly aware of the effect his taciturn demeanor could have on his friends, and after years of living with humans in close quarters, was completely mindful that such demonstrations of aloofness could be punishment enough. Still, Spock waited patiently for McCoy to finish his apology before replying. An apology such as this from the Doctor was as rare as a Dyson Sphere and he wasn't about to interrupt him now.

"As I said, apologies are illogical. To use one of your own colloquialisms, 'sticks and stones.' I understand your intent, and although I find it unnecessary, I will accept it." Relaxing his posture, Spock moved his hands to clasp them in front of himself. It was another familiar gesture that Kirk knew to mean acquiescence or understanding. After a brief silence, Spock moved gracefully to the wall and turned down the thermostat to a more tolerable 85°F, also his way of showing one concession in exchange for theirs.

It was a polite social dance, carefully orchestrated and executed with precision.

As the tension began to diminish, Kirk decided to take a chance. He knew he was playing with fire but he wanted to understand what was really eating at his best friend. Once McCoy had compared Spock to an Aldebaran Shellmouth for his ability to keep his private affairs securely under guard. It was a near impossible struggle to make the Vulcan tell you something if he didn't want to, but Kirk had a knack for dealing with his tight-lipped cohort. Much like an otter with a stubborn clam in his grasp, Kirk wasn't likely to leave even the most difficult of shells unopened. With that in mind, Kirk hoped he wasn't digging himself and McCoy into a deeper grave by prying.

Notes:

1. Salet of T'lingShar was a famed Vulcan musician-composer especially known for playing the ka'athyra. Spock admits to Kirk while playing chess that Salet was a personal hero to him in his youth according to Dwellers in the Crucible by Margaret Wander Bonnano.
2. "But there's no such thing as a Vulcan death grip!" said Christine Chapel. "Ah, but the Romulans don't know that!" replied Kirk. From TOS: The Enterprise Incident.
3. The V'Ger incident is depicted in Star Trek: The Motion Picture.
4. A gravitic mine is mentioned in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan as being what strikes the Kobayashi Maru during simulation.