Home is the Sailor
by
Pat Foley
Chapter 43
"If necessary, his flyer can be tracked," Sarek said to Kirk. "As I did when you were in difficulties on the Forge."
"He didn't take the old flyer. He took the new one," Kirk pointed out. He looked both worried but also somewhat doubtful as if he should be. Given Spock's disinterest in the flyer up to date, he'd wondered if Spock was going to ever go anywhere except by foot, or even look at a control screen again. That he'd taken off in a flyer was almost welcome to him.
Sarek paused, nonplussed at this. "There is no automatic tracking function on that flyer." He looked at them all. "It's not a child's craft."
"With the warp sled on it," Kirk ventured, "he could go anywhere."
"He will not leave the atmosphere," Sarek said, as if his own force of will was sufficient for that restriction. "His usual habit-"
"He wasn't headed to the mountains," Kirk said. "He was headed in the direction of Shikahr."
"Like I said, maybe he went to get something to eat," Amanda said dryly. "Without an argument."
Sarek just gave her a look. "At this point, we can't be sure where he has gone. I could have the transponder on that craft tracked by the patrol-" he surmised. "I could have them intercept and prevent him from leaving the atmosphere."
"Only if you never want to see him again," Amanda said sharply. "He hasn't done anything wrong."
"His departure was emotional."
"Well, that isn't a crime," Amanda said, deadpan. "Not even on Vulcan. I don't think we need to go that far. If he doesn't show up by morning-"
"By then, he could be anywhere, Amanda," Sarek said. "In the Federation. Or beyond. Given his emotional state-"
"You gave him that warp sled craft," she countered, suddenly angry. "Mere impulse wasn't good enough, oh no -"
"Do you think lacking one would stop him?" Sarek replied back.
"Whoa, whoa. Let's just think through this," McCoy said, waving his hands. "Not fight. We didn't hear him go upstairs to his suite. He couldn't have taken anything with him," McCoy pointed out. "So he can't have gone too far. I agree with Sarek in that I doubt he's gone off planet. Not without a bit more preparation."
"Spock's pretty resourceful," Kirk said.
"But he also tends to plan when he makes that big a jump. And I saw no signs leading up to something like that. So let's just think Vulcan. Now, if he runs into some difficulty, how much of a problem is it that he went out of here without identification, a communicator on his person, or credits?"
"I don't think identification is going to be a problem most places on Vulcan. Certainly not if he went to Shikahr," Amanda said. "He's going to be known. To Vulcans, anyway."
"Shikahr is a pretty big city," Kirk said cautiously.
Amanda shrugged. "He'll be known."
"Are you saying that every Vulcan-"
"He has been to Council," Sarek said, frowning at Kirk in turn. "And Shikahr is his city."
"I'm sure he knows it well," Kirk said, exasperated. "But he hasn't lived here for years. And if he didn't take anything-"
"It is his city," Sarek repeated.
There was a pause, where McCoy and Kirk looked at each other. "I take it you aren't just meaning it's his hometown." McCoy said dryly.
"That too," Sarek said.
"Do you mean it's his personal..." Kirk looked from Sarek to Amanda, half reluctant to say it.
Sarek frowned, impatient at this cluelessness. "I thought Spock had explained to you. These are our family's lands."
One of Sarek's aides came to the room. "There is an urgent communiqué from the Federation Undersecretary."
"It never rains, but it pours," Amanda said, sitting back down in her chair. "Even here."
Sarek set his jaw, glancing at Amanda.
"Go take it. Head them off at least. If you don't, they'll be sending out emissaries," Amanda said. "See if you can remember the word No."
"The question more is if they will accept it," Sarek said. "I'll be back shortly."
"I'll believe that when I see it," Amanda sighed. "Back to Spock."
"Maybe just as well Sarek's out of here. Where do you think he might have gone?" McCoy asked. "In Shikahr, since that's where he was headed. To the Science Academy maybe, to look up old teachers? To see T'Pau, perhaps? She lives on the other side of the city. Does he have friends he might drop in on? Or old haunts?"
"I don't think he'll see his Grandmother if he was upset. He's never taken his troubles with Sarek to her, ever. He's at his most Vulcan with her." She frowned, considering. "As for the VSA, even before he finished his second degree there, I think the place bored him. He was just slogging through the motions till he was old enough to leave. I can't see him going there now."
"What about friends? Haunts?"
"In Vulcan society it is very impolite to drop in on a person's residence without giving notice. Vulcans just don't. He'd never do that either."
"Well, fewer and fewer options," McCoy said. "I suppose from a process of elimination aspect, that's good. But he must have gone somewhere. Where does he go when he's upset?"
"The Forge," Amanda said.
"But he didn't go there. What about haunts? Spock said Vulcan kids never have any free time. But surely once they get to be Academy-sized, they must hang out somewhere. Adolescents are the same everywhere."
Amanda's brows rose in surmise. "He was watching a performance earlier this afternoon, right? I saw a bit of it when I came in."
"That's right."
Amanda scribbled down a name and a set of coordinates. "You might check here. It's caters to young Vulcans - particularly the VSA crowd - it's not far from campus. Spock's familiar with it. It features live music. And food."
"Well, right now, that sounds like his kind of place. Particularly in his present mood."
"If you find him," Amanda said, "don't try to persuade him to come home before he's ready. He's entitled to a break from all of us. Just let us know, so I can head off Sarek from dredging the quadrant for him."
Kirk looked at the set of coordinates she'd scribbled on a scrap of paper, along with a name in Vulcan and human script. "I can't imagine Spock going to a …nightclub?"
Amanda looked at him, puzzled. "Why not? It's mostly Vulcans, so it's pretty innocent by Federation standards. But there are outworlders there as well to add a little spice. And it's very popular with VSA students. They listen to music, mostly outworlder groups. Debate the whichness of what. My students are always mentioning it. There are others, but this is the most popular. They have the biggest outworlder presence and the best music."
"It can't hurt to take a look-see," McCoy said, with a glance at Kirk. "Does it have a cover charge to get in? If he's without funds can he even get past the door?"
Amanda blinked at this. "I don't actually know. But Vulcan businesses seldom run on hard credits, even in the Terran Enclave zone. Retina scans, or palm or fingerprint readers would suffice to access his Vulcan accounts."
"Well, he'll be all right then."
Amanda bit her lip. "That's if he chooses to charge against them. He hasn't touched any of those funds since he left Vulcan eighteen years ago. But in the state he's in, he might not even think to remember that he stopped using them."
Halfway to the door, McCoy turned around. "Sarek cut him off to that extent?"
Amanda shook her head. "Spock would never have touched them anyway. You know how stubborn he is."
"What the hell did he live on when he was at the Academy?"
Amanda shrugged. "Starfleet standard issue. Summer jobs. Once he started working on Terra, he set up new accounts in Federation banks. I suppose he might have set up his id scans on Vulcan to reference those Federation accounts. But he was here so seldom I just don't know." She shook her head. "Either way, he could have access to both now. Sarek realized long ago that that was no way to force him home."
"But has Sarek even told him he uncut him off?" McCoy demanded.
"I don't know. I mean, it didn't matter really. Spock has his own funds now. And it's a delicate subject to settle. They have just started talking to each other again."
"Well, if he's going to settle here," McCoy said pointedly, "it is something of a material question. Even if he doesn't need or want them, he ought to know Sarek undid that."
"One thing at a time," Amanda said. "And Sarek is right. ShiKahr is Spock's city. For anyone who recognizes him, funds won't be a question."
McCoy shook his head. "This is a hell of a thing, Amanda."
"He had T'Pau and he had me," Amanda said. "He was never that cut off."
"Bones, we can deal with this later," Kirk said. "If he needs help or gets in trouble, or even needs funds, the flyer has communications. Right now, I think all we need to confirm is that he's on planet."
"He'll be all right," McCoy said. "And if he's there, we'll find him."
"He won't be there," Kirk countered as they headed out to take Amanda's flyer, McCoy flatly refusing to squeeze himself into Spock's little airfoil. "Can you imagine? Spock doesn't like rowdy crowds."
"Well, she said it was mostly Vulcans and some outworlders. So it's probably not that rowdy."
Kirk flew toward the coordinates Amanda had given them, looking down at the city lights sprawling below them, musing on what Amanda had said. "How the hell can anyone own a city this size, Bones?"
McCoy shrugged. "You own the land and-"
"It's practically feudal."
"Vulcan culture tends toward that." McCoy shook his head. "All I know is, I'm going to have a talk with Sarek when we get back."
Kirk spared him a glance from the controls. "Good luck with that," he said, his voice neutral.
xxx
Vulcan's Shikahr might not be the hottest location for nightlife. But it does have a nightlife. A lot of it is tourist oriented. But there's always a nightlife for the youth crowd. And in Shikahr this centered on an area that was almost equidistant between the VSA and the outworlder enclaves. Spock knew the area well, from his own student days. He'd taken two degrees at the VSA and turned down an instructorship there before leaving for Starfleet. True to what he had said to Kirk, he hadn't had much time for socializing. And with his secret plans for enrolling in Starfleet Academy on his eighteenth birthday, he had never risked attracting Sarek's too close supervision by indulging in activities that stretched what license he had. Still, he had visited this establishment occasionally.
But it had been many years ago. So after landing his flyer, he approached it rather diffidently, unsure of himself and his welcome.
It was still early enough the crowd was large but not yet packed as it would be later, when occupancy limits would dictate some would-be patrons would be turned away, and young adults would be coming in for an evening's entertainment. Now it mostly students coming in after VSA classes, catching a dinner meal as much as for the music.
"Well, if it isn't the not-Herbert," a half-familiar voice said as Spock paused at the entrance. A human would be adjusting his vision to the darkened lighting. Spock's eyes were bred to Vulcan's moonless nights. It was his hearing and his psionic shields that required a moment's bracing before he moved into the fray. The music's volume at this club wasn't as loud as at one for humans. But it was still loud for him, compromisingly between acceptable for the mixed crowd of Vulcans and aliens there. It was almost painful until he adjusted his metabolism. But it was the combined wallop of unshielded and uninhibited minds, some of them enhanced by euphorics, against his own sensitive and battered shields that kept him poised like a diver above a freezing pool, reluctant to make the plunge. He stood for a long moment in the back of the club, breathing shallowly, wondering if he were able to handle this. For long moments, he missed that someone was speaking to him, nattering in the background just under and over the music and crowd noise.
"Hey not-Herbert. Not-Herbert! Hey, man, I thought we reached. Not-Herbert. Hey, it was Spock, wasn't it man?"
At his name, the voice finally registered and Spock turned his gaze on the speaker. An outworlder of course. Any Vulcan would have realized from his behavior that he was adjusting his shields and left him alone until he was ready. He stared at the individual for a long moment before the face and memory clicked. "Tong…Rad, is it not?"
"That's right, man. Tongo for choice. What are you doing here? Thought you were flying around on that ship of yours."
"It wasn't my ship," Spock said, crossing over to him curiously.
Rad had cut his hair shorter, and let it go from vegetable-dyed lavender back to silver. He wore shoes on his feet now, a requirement for Vulcan when in the heat of the day, sand and pavements would be too hot to walk barefoot. But Rad wore not many more clothes than he had on the Enterprise, when he'd taunted Chekhov over his uniform. In the Vulcan heat, his skimpy attire was practical.
"But Shikahr is my city," Spock continued, looking over the young Catullan. "How have you come to be here? The last we left you," he frowned in memory, "you were to find another Eden, correct?"
Rad shrugged. "Never got the chance. Starfleet turned me over to my embassy, and they to my parents. Then I went through, well, sort of an intervention. After that, my father took an assignment here. I think mostly to get me away from certain elements. Though Catulla has joined the Federation, more or less provisionally. They've been siding with the Alliance lately. So our presence here isn't entirely because of me. And I've been continuing my studies at the VSA. My father's happy about that – he always wanted me to follow him further in his chosen field."
"I am familiar with those expectations," Spock said dryly.
"Man, I'm getting a crick in my neck looking up at you." Rad gestured to a chair. "Come, have a drink."
Spock hesitated, looking around vaguely. "Unfortunately, I seem to have come out without funds."
"You saved my life. I can stake you to a drink. And maybe a meal?" He eyed Spock's gaunt frame. "You look like you could use one, brother."
"That would be welcome. Thank you." Spock seated himself at Rad's table and turned to view the stage.
"No problem. As long as I keep up my studies, my father keeps me on a decent allowance." He snagged a pretty Tellurite waitress passing by, dressed only in a sarong with the club's logo. Her antenna were adorned with glitter. "I'll have a Kaferian cider –" he looked at Spock, "or two?" At Spock's nod, he said. "Two Kaferian ciders. Trillium leaves stuffed with kevas and triticale. And plomeek patties."
"That will do for me as well," Spock told the waitress, who veiled her eyes in Andorian assent. "I regret you have abandoned your quest," Spock said, turning to Rad. "I thought it seemed a worthy goal. You are not…angry," Spock ventured, "to have been derailed from it?"
Rad looked embarrassed. "Well, maybe not abandoned it. But I think I picked the wrong companions to go looking for it. Sevrin was crazy. I see that now. He nearly got all of us killed. You shipmates, but also my companions."
"Yes," Spock said, frowning slightly. "Now that you mention it, I do recall that."
"That was a bad scene, man. Sevrin even told me he was going to kill you all. Just before he set the acoustics. I didn't know beforehand. Didn't really believe him, even then. But I almost thought it was justified. That's how I was." Rad shook his head. "I could have spent the rest of my life in prison for murder. I can't say I'm sorry to have been brought to my senses."
"Well, perhaps with a less volatile leader," Spock said thoughtfully, "one with a more logical and less radical approach, you will eventually come back to it."
"Maybe. I miss Adam. And the girls. Can't say I miss Sevrin, now that my eyes are opened. And I don't mind continuing my post doc studies at the VSA. It's a good school." The waitress delivered their drinks.
"Your field was space studies, was it not?" Spock said, frowning, eyes half shut as he fought to get back the memories of that mission.
"Yeah. Hey, you okay?"
Spock opened his eyes and focused on his companion. "I'm well enough." He took a sip of his drink and drew a shaky breath. With some effort, he stilled the sudden trembling in his hands caused by his effort to remember.
"Look like you had a pain there, brother." Rad said, then shrugged and went back to himself. "I'm minoring in philosophy to keep up that interest. That department's not bad either. I wasn't sure I'd like Vulcan. Given I was sort of hijacked here."
"I can sympathize," Spock said wryly.
"I think Catulla politics aside, my father took this assignment because he thought I'd be safer on Vulcan from radical influences," Rad admitted. "But there are good people here. We reach."
"There are radical influences everywhere," Spock said. "Even on Vulcan. But I am pleased you are satisfied with your situation." Their meals arrived and they both fell to, Spock rather more avidly than he preferred to in public.
"Hey, Sanjean," Rad said, as a familiar figure walked by.
"Tongo," Sanjean said and then did a double-take. "And Spock. I wasn't expecting – well, I am pleased to see you out and about."
"I came to see the band," Spock said.
"Really," Sanjean said, with a raised brow for the current act, a schoolgirl trio of three Andorians, who sang in acapella harmony while the crowd near the stage, a younger clientele befitting the early hour and the current performers, alternated between listening and jeering.
"Not them," Spock said. "The next act."
"Now they are good," Sanjean allowed.
"Join us," Rad said. He ordered himself another cider, raising a silver brow in inquiry to Spock.
Spock shook his head. Being Vulcan, he wasn't designed to need or consume large amounts of fluid and his glass was still half full. But he pushed his cleared plate away with a satisfied air.
"Want more?" Rad asked, nodding to Spock's plate.
"No, thank you," Spock said. "That was sufficient."
The schoolgirl group left the stage, to a mixture of traditional applause, table thumpings, flashing of table lights, and some catcalls. A backdrop rose to reveal the traditional instrument set for a rock band. Drums, keyboards, amps.
"Excuse me for a moment," Spock said and went wandering up to follow the Andorian girls into the green room.
"Are Andorian girls his type?" Rad asked idly.
"I don't think so. How have you come to know Spock?" Sanjean asked Rad.
Tongo had the grace to flush. "I met him on the Enterprise," he said. "In circumstances not to my advantage. Better days for him then, I suppose. Now he looks a little down on his luck and I'm the one who has it together."
"Down on his luck," Sanjean mused. "I suppose he has encountered some misfortune recently. I am not sure how luck plays into it."
"I suppose he has some resources here?" Rad asked curiously.
"Shikahr is his city," Sanjean agreed.
"He mentioned that. I suppose if he was born here, he has friends, relatives? Someone who can stake him to a meal and a bed? I mean, he seems rather …starved."
Sanjean looked at Rad a long moment, as if translating his words, striving to understand. "Oh. Well, he was born here. And his family is here too, of course. But when I said Shikahr was his city, I didn't mean that. I meant it is his city. "
Rad blinked at this. "He lives here."
Sanjean flicked a brow at that. "No, actually not. His home is outside the city proper, in the Llangon foothills, on the edge of the Llauresan range. So not quite in the city. He doesn't live here. It's just the city that is his."
"You mean, like he considers it his home even though he doesn't live here."
"No," Sanjean frowned. 'I mean the city is his. It belongs to him," he clarified.
Rad laughed. "You mean he owns it? Come on, man. He doesn't look like he owns a begging bowl. And he looks like he could use one. I just staked him to a meal."
"The city of Shikahr is traditionally gifted to the heir of Surak when he passes his – well, upon his fifth year of age. For his maintenance. It is part of his inheritance."
"You're serious?" Rad's eyes were wide. "Well, his rents sure don't look like they pay the bills, man. He looks starved."
"A matter of hostilities," Sanjean explained. "He was captured and tortured by Klingons during a recent mission. He is home to convalesce."
"Damn," Rad looked thoughtful. "Well, that explains the starved look."
"How odd," Sanjean said. "That you would think to offer him a meal. It would hardly occur to me. Like offering a glass of water to a man surrounded by a hundred fountains."
"But what if he didn't have the glass, man?" Rad asked.
"A material point," Sanjean concluded. "Logical."
"I am honored," Rad teased back.
Meanwhile, Spock stood at the entrance of the greenroom door, observing with a combination of interest and reminiscence.
The drummer Spock had seen on the video screen that afternoon, lean and spare, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth straightened up from bending over an amp. He did a double take and said, "Spock? It is you, isn't it?"
Spock nodded. "Yes, Richard."
The drummer turned to someone coming out of a fresher. "Chad, look who's here. It's Spock."
"No way, man. Hey, Junior!" a hefty black man enfolded Spock in a bear hug before he could react. "What you doing here?"
"I live here," Spock said. "Well, I did."
Richard cocked a brow, looking at Spock expectantly, as if in an old manner. "Hell, what's the time, man?"
"You have twelve point two minutes before the next set." Spock said automatically.
"Love, love, love that clock, man," Chad chuckled, shaking his head, face split with a big grin. "Missed it. We got a bit of time then. So what? You give up sailoring?"
"I'm on leave."
"But you gotta eat more, baby," Chad said, poking Spock's midsection. He settled back a bit, looking Spock over. "Look like I could break you in two like a matchstick."
"Yeah, give him half your food, man," Richard said, offering Spock a drag. "Then you might lose some weight."
"No, thank you," Spock said, rejecting the offered cigarette.
"Still a choirboy, eh?"
"Hey, leave Junior alone," Chad said. "Though if you gave him half your dope, you might stay on the beat for more than two measures."
"I can still beat you," Richard countered, but lazily and without rancor.
"I was surprised to see the group here," Spock said, lips twitching briefly at the familiar grousing between the band members.
"We're playing this circuit. Rigel, Altair, Weehounock, Rhemus 5. Vulcan. Good gig. Bread's good, anyway. Got another six months on the contract."
The other band members, lead guitarist Drew Cobb and bass player Finn McNeary came over and greeted Spock warmly.
"What's the crowd like?" Spock asked, another automatic question from the past, curious to see how a Vulcan crowd rated.
"First sets a little sparse." Drew said. "That lead-in schoolgirl group scares everyone away. But by the third set, the joint is jumping. Hey, you should play with us."
Spock flicked a brow, half amused. "You surely have no trouble finding a Vulcan lyrist here."
"Not on this circuit, no," McNeary agreed. "But rhythm guitar, second guitar, autoharp, acoustic, even backup keyboard aren't easy to find out here. You could do those. And we can always use a good electronics tech."
"Yeah, there's something wrong with my kick mike," Richard complained. "And I can't trace it."
"I can look at it," Spock offered.
"What's the clock, man?" Chad asked.
"Two point two minutes," Spock said.
"And we can sure use someone to keep us on the clock," Chad said. "You'll have to check his kick mike later. We're out of time now. Catch a set and we'll talk after the show. Or between sets."
"What the hell, man. He doesn't need to catch a set," Drew complained. "He sightreads clean."
"To sight-read, he'd have to have something to read. We don't have the sheets, man," Chad said. "They disappeared after Weehounock."
"The man has a point," Richard said, crushing his cigarette. "Don't think that I do have the sheets handy. They're packed away somewhere. I'll have to look for them. So catch a set and we'll talk."
Spock nodded absently.
"Later baby," Chad said, catching Spock's arm. "And eat something while you're listening. You look like you haven't eaten since we've last seen you."
The band headed out on stage and Spock went back to Tongo and Sanjean.
"You know these artists?" Sanjean asked.
"I did some work with them," Spock said remotely. "Many years ago."
"You performed? On stage?" Sanjean asked, a touch of incredulity marring his Vulcan calm.
"Not much. I was in StarFleet Academy. I couldn't tour. Sometimes in the summer. Mostly, I was a session musician."
"I'd have thought you'd work in astrophysics. Or computers. Your fields."
"I worked in those during the day," Spock clarified. "Weekdays. Evenings and weekends I did this," Spock nodded to the stage. "The recompense was better than my day job."
They watched the band in companionable silence for a while.
"They are good," Sanjean said.
"Oh, frack, it's Herbert," Rad said suddenly, shifting uncomfortably. "Captain Hard Lip himself."
Spock turned his gaze from the stage to see Kirk edge into the club, eyes narrowed, face set, on the prowl. He might have been walking into a Klingon cell block. Behind him, McCoy was looking around curiously.
"What's he doing here?" Rad complained.
"Looking for me I expect," Spock said, with a little sigh.
"Does Starfleet use press gangs to rope in its crew? Or what, are you A.W.O.L?"
"I suppose I could be considered A.W.O.L., if not officially. I walked out rather precipitously."
"Of Starfleet?"
Spock sighed again. "Of my father's house."
"Hey, man, we reach. But even my father doesn't keep that tight a rein on me," Rad said. "And I stole a cruiser."
"So did I," Spock muttered into his cider. "Twice."
"They haven't seen you," Rad said. "If you want, you can duck out-"
But Kirk suddenly turned with his usual preternatural awareness of Spock, homing in like a hunting dog on their location.
Whether he'd been half tempted to evade their notice for a second or two, Spock gave into the inevitable and half rose, nodding at Kirk to show himself in the darkened club.
Kirk came over. "Spock," his eyes fixated on Tong Rad and bugged a little. "Uh….uhm…. One, wasn't it?"
"I'm not into that scene right now," Rad said.
"Thank god for that," Kirk muttered.
"We weren't meaning to track you down, Spock. But we were a bit concerned," McCoy ventured.
"I understand, Doctor," Spock said.
"Oh, right," Rad said. "Dr. McCoy."
"I trust you've been okay, young Rad," McCoy queried, settling at the table. "No ill effects from the acid?"
"I'm fine, Doctor."
"Good." McCoy looked from Rad to Spock back to Rad. "So how'd you come to Vulcan, then?"
"My father's Ambassador here. And I'm studying at the VSA," Rad muttered, less comfortable with McCoy and Kirk than Spock.
"Small galaxy," McCoy said. "Right, Jim?" He looked up at Kirk. "Sit down, why don't you?"
Kirk was looking with a frown from Rad, who he was beginning to dismiss, to Spock whose gaze had drifted to the band now finishing their set. "You okay, Spock?"
"I understand why you were prevailed upon to come after me, Captain," Spock said remotely. "But as you see, I am quite well."
Chad came down from the stage and waded through the crowd to their table. "Hey, Junior! Richard found some sheets if you want to review them. And he still wants you to look at his kick mike. He's been tearing his hair out over it. And you know how he cultivates that frizz."
"Junior?" McCoy said, eyes bugging.
"You want to make something of it?" Chad asked, with a friendly but ungiving smile.
Spock made introductions. "I'll look at it." He rose.
"We can do some arranging. If you want, you can join us the last set," Chad said, as they walked away.
"We shall see," Spock said, rising. "And for your information, Doctor, I believe it is called a nickname."
"Junior?" McCoy repeated.
"He was just a babe in arms when he started sessioning with us. But whoo boy, he could sight-read any score note perfect on the first take." Chad said. "And play anything with a string or a keyboard."
"What do I tell your parents?" Kirk said.
"That I'll be home late," Spock tossed over his shoulder.
"We can wait," McCoy said. "I've never been to a nightclub on Vulcan. Might be …interesting. If not fun."
"I don't get this, Bones," Kirk frowned. "This whole scene is not Spock."
"How do you know?" Rad asked suddenly. "He was into Sevrin's group from way before you ever knew him. Researched the movement, Sevrin's life. He was into us, man. And the music scene – you heard Chad. He was sessioning and jamming back in his Academy days. Maybe you're the one who doesn't know Spock."
"We've all done things in our youth," Kirk's gaze roved pointedly over Rad's shorter hair and shod feet. "But we grow out of them."
"Maybe it's his ace in the hole," Rad said, and shoved back his chair. "Excuse me. I have a paper to write. And I suddenly don't like the company. Herbert."
Kirk drew a sharp breath, staring after Rad as he walked out of the club.
"I thought you were going to be a little less rigid in your thinking, Captain Sir," McCoy said. "You jumped all over that kid."
"He's damn lucky. That kid just happened to steal a space cruiser, which was subsequently destroyed, and was involved in a dangerous counter culture group. If it wasn't for his father being an Ambassador, he'd have been in jail for the theft alone."
"He does sound a bit like Spock, doesn't he?" McCoy said, smirking a bit.
Kirk blew out a breath, "Oh, Bones, don't be so simplistic. You're playing into this."
"Seems to me you're the one trying to make things more simplistic than they are. To classify Spock merely as a scientist and Starfleet Officer, rather than the more complex being that he has been and could be again. And you've forgotten Sevrin," McCoy said, serious again. "The cult leader? Spock did know all about him."
"He knows all about a lot of things. That's his job. That doesn't mean he's into them."
"Except he was into them. You were pretty down on that group."
"They were undisciplined, work-shy-"
"And you were grim at the Academy. Some of them were quite skilled as I recall. Tong Rad was very gifted. They took over the ship pretty quick. While you were pitching a fit about spoiled, entitled Ambassadors' sons-"
"I-" Kirk gave McCoy a startled look. "I didn't mean Spock. He'd know I could never mean him."
"Just saying. Spock knew the group. He had researched their leader. Their philosophy. He was into their type of music. He learned all that somewhere. And it wasn't in front of a library computer. And if you don't know that about Spock, maybe it's because given your attitude, he thought it best not to tell you."
"Or he left it behind."
"Maybe," McCoy said.
"What do you know?" Kirk accused.
McCoy just shook his head. "Not much more than you. But I am a pretty good observer, and I watched and listened. Spock's looking for acceptance. He settled on Starfleet. But he could have easily gone the other way, maybe, if Pike hadn't taken him under his wing. Not all Starship captains were keen on having an alien officer in their line of command. Some of his explorations into counter-culture may have just have been Vulcan curiosity. He was in for a penny to human ways, so might as well have been in for a pound. But he knew their lingo damn well, and that means he spent some time with them or a group like them at one point, years before. He sure spent time with this band. You might have known that if you had cared to. Sometimes, Jim, you can have a bit of a closed mind about things."
"I wasn't born with a silver spoon," Kirk said. "And I'm damn glad for the education and the opportunity Starfleet's afforded me. And I wouldn't have had it if I had lounged about-"
"Do you hear yourself?" McCoy asked. "I know Tarsus was bad. Your own personal nightmare that you strove hard to rise above. Starfleet was your ticket for that. But when did you get so judgmental? Can you see yourself from Spock's perspective?"
"You can't want him to get involved in this scene."
"It's my job not to have any wants, but to take my cues from Spock," McCoy said. "And he looks like he's happy at the prospect of playing some music with his old friends."
"Sarek will be livid."
"Maybe. Maybe not. But I don't see why that matters to anyone but Sarek and maybe Spock. Why do you care if he does?"
"It's one thing for Spock to depart from his Vulcan training to join Starfleet. Another for him to join up with some counterculture crazies."
"Sevrin's gone, Jim."
"There's always another one of these reactionaries popping up to cause trouble. And Spock's not himself."
"This is himself too."
"He could be easily influenced. His going up to play with those musicians, in his state -"
McCoy sighed. "First, they are musicians, not counterculture crazies. Second, it seems like they are old friends. Old co-workers. Third, Spock's always played for the crew and with various groups. He played with Sevrin's group too."
"And you saw what happened there," Kirk argued. "While he was playing, they took over the ship."
"That wasn't his fault. Security was lax. Your security was lax."
"Not by my choice. I would have thrown them in the brig if Fleet hadn't dictated I treat them as guests."
"Regardless, his parents had him musically trained, so I doubt they are going to fall over in shock if he actually plays here before a group of his Vulcan friends and associates, any more than they would have his playing before Starfleet friends and associates." McCoy pushed back his chair. "I'm going to get outside out of this noise and call Amanda. Let her know he's here and safe. Then I think I'm going to have a drink and enjoy the show. I think you could use a night out too, Jim. As Adam once said, 'Herbert, you are stiff!' So, relax a little. Or maybe, crabby as you are," he lowered his voice confidentially, "you need to get laid."
"I'll Herbert you," Kirk muttered. But he waved the waitress over to order a drink and found himself catching the eye of a pretty Orion girl. And after a moment, smiling invitingly.
To be continued…
