ST: TOS 1x07, "What Are Little Girls Made Of?"
KIRK: "Something bothering you, Mister Spock?"
SPOCK: "Frankly, I was rather dismayed by your use of the term 'half-breed,' Captain. You must admit it is an unsophisticated expression."
Set during TOS 1x05, "The Enemy Within
A/N: I took the dialogue (above) from 1x07 but set it in 1x05 so that rather than android-Kirk calling Spock a half-breed, evil-Kirk does.
Unsophisticated Expression
"Mr. Spock—is something concerning you?" Kirk hovered as casually as possible.
"Concern; a human emotion often observed to be a result of statistically uncertain odds. No, Captain. I am not concerned." Spock turned his back on the Captain, mistaking the conversation as finished. Kirk all but rolled his eyes.
"Fine, then. Not concerned. Distracted? Curious about something perhaps?"
"If you are implying I am unfit to perform my duties, I assure you I am functioning at maximum capability." Spock stood at full height, silently and placidly awaiting a response.
"I can see that." Kirk's pitch rose with a hint of humor. "Never mind."
Jim returned to his chair, crossed his legs and directed his attention to setting a new course.
"Current warp factor, Mister Sulu?"
"Cruising at warp factor three, Captain."
"Lay in a new course to Endochian 7- warp factor five."
"Affirmative, Captain."
Sulu nodded, Chekov gave a silent acknowledgement, and Mr. Spock continued toying with his instruments. The bridge was considerably busy, despite there being little excitement; everyone catching up on missed assignments, neglected duties. It seemed that not even Kirk was exempt from playing catch-up from the previous days' chaos; Yeoman Rand appearing with a tray of food.
"Captain? You haven't made it to the galley yet today."
"Yeoman, yes, thank you." Kirk nodded and accepted the meal, looking around at the many faces on the bridge. Surely he hadn't been the only one too preoccupied to eat; his eyes landed once again on Spock, still mapping their current position. Their brief conversation minutes earlier had ended without satisfaction— Spock denying that he harbored misgivings. Still, Kirk knew many things and his crew's disposition was no exception. Spock was troubled, whether or not he was aware of it himself; his Vulcan side often masking confusing, unwanted, or challenging facets of his human half. With Rand still lingering, Kirk beckoned her over once again.
"Captain?" She inquired.
"Would you please check in with the crew here? Make sure they take due time to eat and rest? And don't let Mr. Spock escape your rounds."
Yeoman smiled, gently rolling her eyes.
"Of course, Captain. No one will evade my interrogation."
Kirk smiled back, happy to hear it.
"Fine work, Yeoman."
Kirk returned to people-watching for a brief time, until Chekov reported that their course was steady and clear; Kirk then, admitting to exhaustion, retired to his quarters. His dreams were far from peaceful—an imaginative reenactment of the day's events. The violent, spitting, cruel and desperate facets of himself holding his compassion and docility hostage. Waking with a start, he quickly abandoned the notion of rest and decided that it was in order to visit Bones. He spoke quietly to the elevator, directing it to take him to deck five. Upon the opening doors, Kirk was met with the familiar, boisterous, bitterness of Leonard McCoy.
"If you don't sit on the bed, I'll strap you to it, Ensign. And then I'll have your meals made to gelatin, and personally invite the Captain down here himself to feed it to you on a baby spoon—"
"Well, with an offer like that how could you ever refuse?"
Kirk strutted into the room with an immense pride for his dry brand of sarcasm. More entertaining, however, was the embarrassed (albeit somewhat pleased) look on the doctor's face.
"Jim!"
"Looks as if I've come to strengthen the validity of your threats…" Kirk's quiet tone soon snapped into a loud command. "Ensign Brooks, you will remain in SickBay for however long Dr. McCoy deems fit, and you shall execute all of his orders to the T of my name, do you understand?"
"Yes, Captain."
Kirk nodded and stepped away, McCoy trailing him closely.
"I came to check-in but I can see you're not at risk of boredom." Kirk raised his eyebrows ever so subtly, but it triggered a worry in the doctor that his captain was somehow overwhelmed.
"I'd be more pleased if you'd let me look you over; I don't care what Spock says, there's no way you get split in two and fuzed back together without any side effects."
"I'm fine, Bones. Need some sleep is all. Scotty's covering the conn, I'm taking it slow. Promise."
"No offense, Jim but a promise from you is just you acknowledging what you should do, not what you will."
"Bones, I promise you that assumption is correct."
"Joy."
The whistle tone of the intercom sounded—Uhura's tone emanating from the speaker.
"Captain Kirk to the bridge please."
James walked to the intercom swifty, driving away the fun nature of the previous conversation.
"Kirk here. What's the situation?"
"Unidentified spacecraft has entered our course."
"On my way. Kirk out."
Without a goodbye, Jim left SickBay, McCoy with it, and went boldly to confront the next crisis.
( ) ( ) ( )
A low grade tension hung on the bridge, but it was lessened by the Captain's arrival. Jim rattled off his standard questionnaire and was met with few answers. The spacecraft in their path was not scanning the Enterprise, and was making no maneuver to evade their path.
"Lieutenant Uhura, open and scan Frequency Two for communications."
"Aye, Sir." She carried out the familiar order and waited for the silence in her earpiece to be broken. "Captain, I'm receiving no communications."
"Open all frequencies." He directed.
Again, she clicked the corresponding controls.
"Now hailing all frequencies." There was a brief silence before her next response. "I'm receiving a communication on Frequency Three but systems are unable to interpret, Sir."
"Initiate playback." Kirk directed, crossing his arms and leaning against his chair.
A confusing static first filled the bridge, but eventually a series of high-pitched tones began overwhelming the speakers. Kirk's worry was relatively low as battle seemed an unlikely outcome; still, successful communication was of utmost importance. Kirk extended his inquiry to the entirety of the bridge in hopes that collectively, progress could be made.
"Does anyone here recognize this language? Anything familiar at all?"
Silence hung momentarily before Scotty, of all people, interjected.
"Wee' no, Sir, not exactly. But it rings in m' ears with th' same irritation Tocharian does."
"Worth a try, thank you Mister Scott." Kirk nodded briefly and then turned back to Uhura. "Spock to the bridge if you would, Lieutenant."
She nodded, turning to her duty, and Kirk hovered over Chekov's shoulder, watching the monitors continue to process what information they could. The sound of the bridge doors gliding open was welcomed and Jim turned to observe Spock approach his sensors.
"Unidentified life force attempting a communication, Officer Spock. Engineer Scott proposed it may be Tocharian." Uhura, as communications officer, took it upon herself to inform the new arrival of the situation.
"Are they continuing to transmit?" he asked.
"Negative. They appear to be waiting for a response."
"If you would please initiate the playback…"
Wordlessly Uhura complied and once again the shrill sounds filled the bridge. Kirk waited until the sounds faded before interrupting.
"Analysis, Mister Spock?"
The Vulcan took a moment to think before responding; the process of thought clearly displayed on his face.
"I propose that this is a more specialized dialect of the broader Tochanian languages. Neither I, nor the computer banks will be able to run a full panel of analytics but a few words are not in dispute, Captain."
"And those would be…?"
"It is my best interpretation that they wish for us to turn on our visual channels."
Kirk looked away, checking in with his guidance officers.
"Any reported changes to the alien vessel's actions, Mister Sulu?"
"No changes, Captain. Holding steady."
"Alright." Kirk took a breath, standing an inch taller. "Uhura, commence video interface, if you will."
The screen soon began piecing together pixels until a clear image surfaced on the bridge screen; a collection of about fifteen very small, odd creatures. Approximately two feet in height with what could be described as leafy limbs, they appeared to be a humanoid form of plant life. Kirk was sure that Sulu— their resident hobby botanist—would be dying to observe their anatomy and autonomic functions. For now, however, he would have to wait. Kirk took an unnecessary step forward, as if he was meeting the creatures face to face, and began his formal introduction.
"I am Captain James Kirk of the U.S.S Enterprise. Our current systems are unable to read your messages in full, but we strive for peaceful communication... as best we can manage it."
There was a brief silence after he spoke, and a little movement from the creatures on the screen. Soon, however, more noise filled their speakers and Spock turned his head as if to concentrate. At the conclusion of their speech, Kirk appealed to the science officer.
"Spock?"
"Words of peace, Captain. Though I remind you this is a crude interpretation." Spock took a step closer to Kirk, the profile of his body now centered in their video transmission. Violently, the creatures erupted into high-pitched shrieks and scurried about their controls with panic. Without pause, Kirk called for condition yellow before attempting to pacify the aliens.
"You are in no danger! We make no moves to harm you."
Amongst the bustle of the foreign crew, one creature stood still, clearly the origin of the singular sound now emanating on the ship. All of Kirk's attention landed on Spock—awaiting his translation. The usually calming, steady voice from the first officer faltered for a brief moment—almost a hiccup, even if only for a moment.
"It appears, Captain, that their distress is caused by my appearance." Kirk's confused visage prompted Spock to continue. "I believe they have mistaken my physical form for that of a Romulan."
With a working theory, Kirk launched immediately into addressing it.
"We bring you no harm; no one on board is a Romulan. Mister Spock is our Science Officer, my Second in Command, and a Vulcan."
For a brief moment there was a pause to the alien ship's chaos; a consideration of whether or not these humans could be trusted. Despite the relative calm, danger still seemed to loom. After another burst of sound, Spock turned to his superior with a request.
"They are informing me, Captain, that they recognize me not entirely as a Vulcan. Permission to speak to them freely? Without immediate directive?"
"Permission granted."Kirk nodded and stood back to tell Uhura to send an alert to prepare battle stations. Meanwhile, Spock's calm tone narrated.
"It's true I am not entirely Vulcan; I maintain a human half. Regardless, however, I can assure you neither I, nor anyone on board, wishes to initiate a violent confrontation. I remind you that it would be most illogical for you to instigate unrest on the basis of my physical form."
There was another burst of chatter and Spock once again responded.
"Your concerns are justifiable, but nonetheless unnecessary. I assure you my loyalties and allegiances are not in dispute. First, to my Commanding Officer, Captain Kirk. Second, to the Enterprise. Third, the Federation. My personal identity, as you can see, is neither relevant nor present in these proceedings."
Kirk, raptured by the elegance with which his friend spoke, momentarily forgot the circumstances that landed them in this moment. For a final time the shrill sound filled the room, and Spock gave a nod before turning away from the viewing screen and back to the Captain.
"They are retreating, Captain."
Kirk nodded, pleased, and lowered alert levels back to the status quo. Spock immediately resumed his prior activities, and Chekov laid a new course.
James sat—the moment of rest bringing back the unfortunate memories of his own recent identity crisis. He had witnessed, felt, what it was like to be split down the middle and for the first time, considered if that was how Spock felt all the time. Impatient in regards to all personal matters, he couldn't stop himself from speaking.
"Mister Spock?"
"Sir?" The blue-shirted man turned.
"What you said a few moments ago—about your identity as…-" Kirk couldn't find his words, trailing off.
"A half-breed, Captain?" Spock finished for him.
"No, no, no, Mister Spock. Why would you presume I'd refer to you in such a way?"
"It was your own choice of words earlier, Captain. It was logical to assume you would use the same descriptor."
"That wasn't me, Spock. You know that."
"On the contrary, it was, in fact, you. But nevertheless, I see your point."
"What I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry, Spock."
"I see no gain from an apology, Captain. I do not feel in any way that your claims were either inaccurate, or dangerous."
"It's for me, Spock. It will make me feel better. So… I'm sorry."
Spock stood in silence, prompting Kirk to give him an extra social push. "It is customary that you accept this apology, if it so pleases you."
"Apology accepted, Captain."
Spock turned back to his duties, Kirk turned back to his command, and after a brief lingering silence, after a moment of ponderance, Spock extended one final thought.
"Despite its illogic, I do believe I feel better, Captain."
Kirk smiled a sly, shy grin, and didn't bother to concern Spock with any further commentary. Rather, he sat back, crossed his legs, and settled into contentment.
"Steady as she goes, Mister Sulu. Steady as she goes."