Watching Scotty Sleep

Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott was sleeping. Really, that was not unusual. The Engineer had the capacity to fall asleep any time or anywhere he was able to achieve a more-or-less horizontal position.

The only place you could be sure he would not fall asleep was on the Bridge of the ship – and, well, that was really only guaranteed if Scotty were occupying the center seat, in actual command at the moment. There, he would be very focused.

Other than that, all bets were off.

Jim Kirk had seen Scott asleep in each section of Engineering, on the observation decks, in a corridor or two, and in every single one of the Rec Rooms.

He had slept in biobeds – and next to them.

He would arrive a few minutes early for briefings, and nap right up until the last possible second. He seemed to have a sixth sense that told him when Jim and Spock were going to open their mouths…

For a while now, since the real Deep Space work started, Scott favoured the Computer Bays, and random corners of various labs. Jim found this hysterical – Scotty spent months snoozing where the Vulcan would be most likely to run across him at any second.

Captain Kirk kept expecting Spock to say something: His First Officer was the model of efficiency, and had little patience for indolence of the sort thus displayed.

But Spock never said a word.

Then Jim went down to Astrophysics with Chekov to see something that the Science Officer had been working on. While Spock was talking, Scotty came in to listen, and seated himself on the floor, with his back against the counter.

When Jim and Chekov started asking questions, Scotty gradually shifted to a more comfortable position; and when the technician started in, Scott went to sleep. Sounds of breathing – a very gentle snore - soon filled the air.

Watching him out of the corner of his eye, Jim was amused. He waited with gleeful anticipation for Spock to notice: Because, really? This was gonna be awesome. And Jim had a front row seat.

The technician talked, and Spock went soundlessly about his business. After a few minutes, he came around the counter to retrieve equipment stored nearby. The Science Officer stepped over Scott's prone body, picked up the device he required, and returned, stepping back over the sleeping form. His movements were matter-of-fact; his face, as expressionless as ever.

Jim was astounded; he was speechless. He was so surprised that he simply didn't know what to say - and so he said nothing.

As the conversation went on around the silent Captain, Spock corrected the technician on an obscure point.

A second later, a burring voice rose from near the floor. "Are you certain about that, Mr. Spock?"

"Yes, Mr. Scott, I am. I have proven this point myself. If you would care to consult -" the serene Vulcan voice went on, but since Captain Kirk had no desire to consult Mr. Spock's Astrophysics Department Laboratory Report Number Whatever of Stardate When, he quit listening.

Jim glanced down to where his Engineer still lay on the floor. Scott's eyes were closed and his hands were still tucked under his head. He did not appear to have moved – Yet he most definitely was conversing with Spock: His lips were moving, even if what he said was unintelligible. Soon, he shifted a little; then sat up. He glanced up to see the Captain looking at him. He nodded, a little – an acknowledgement – but his focus remained on the Science Officer's observations.

After that, the Captain returned to the Bridge. When Chekov and Spock emerged from the turbolift a short time later, Jim Kirk gestured to the latter. "Commander. A moment, if you will…?"

The First Officer moved to stand in his customary position at the Captain's side. When Jim leaned over, so that his words would not be overheard, Spock stepped closer, and tilted his head a little.

His eyes were fixed on Kirk's face. He waited for the Captain to speak.

Jim took a second to formulate a sentence: This situation was totally unprecedented, and he thought he should be careful. After a moment, he turned a bit, so that his voice would not drift forward to the two men seated in front of him: His words were meant for Vulcan ears alone. He spoke very nearly in a whisper, "Mr. Spock, I am becoming somewhat concerned by an apparent lack of discipline among some of the officers." He looked up to see how the other was taking this.

Spock looked interested, but he didn't look anticipatory. He was waiting for the Captain to elaborate.

Jim wasn't sure what he should say. Frankly, this was a conversation he never expected to be having. "Not you, personally, of course." The compliment was acknowledged with a slight bow that only a Vulcan could pull off convincingly. "But today I noted that Mr. Scott…" He couldn't really finish this sentence with 'was lying around underfoot like a Golden Retriever,' could he? He trailed off.

Surprisingly, Spock picked up the conversational slack. "Mr. Scott is an extremely effective officer."

"He is?" Oh, God. He hoped that he didn't sound as dumbfounded as he felt.

Spock had averted his eyes. Jim cleared his throat a little.

Spock's nod was masterful. It distracted Jim completely from his embarrassment.

"Indeed."

The man was a born diplomat.

"Mr. Scott's methods may, at times, be unconventional – a result, I believe, of both temperament, and restrictions externally imposed by conditions inherent in his field of study - as well as subsequent experiences, no doubt - but his department consistently remains one of the most efficient on this vessel. Also, he is quite innovative; and inspires creative thinking, discipline, and loyalty among those with whom he serves."

For a non-technical subject, it was a pretty long speech for Spock - particularly since the subject was, in fact, another sentient being. Spock hated talking about people.

Jim was impressed.

Spock's unprecedented ability to read Jim remained unchallenged: He had glanced at the Captain's face, and spoke again, in the same confidential undertone. "I could go on – but I assure you, sir, that I have no concerns about Mr. Scott's tenure." Spock straightened slightly – a subtle Vulcan indication that, unless further questions were raised, he had nothing further to say.

Kirk took the hint. He spoke in a more normal tone of voice. "Thank you, Mr. Spock."

Spock nodded.

Both of them shifted a little, so that they were looking out the view screen, side-by-side. To anyone on the Bridge who happened to be paying attention, the message was clear: The conference was over.

Jim Kirk could not speak the Vulcan language, but he was beginning to understand Vulcan: Spock liked Scott; he thought he was good for the ship, and had enough talent to excuse being a little eccentric.

Jim smiled to himself. It was an assessment any one of them could only hope to deserve.

The Captain would not repeat his First Officer's words, but on the strength of them, he went looking for Scott with a bottle in hand, once his shift was over.

Jim Kirk quickly located his quarry: His Chief Engineer was stretched out more-or-less horizontally across five chairs in the middle of the Officers' Mess. Though some dozen or more people were already here, Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott was sleeping.

Kirk thought about waking him; then decided to just let him lie. There was a small table near his head, and a few more chairs were grouped conveniently nearby. It appeared to be as comfortable a place as any, and maybe Scott would wake soon, on his own.

Jim grabbed a couple of glasses before sitting down. He poured a drink for himself, and one for Scott, and softly plunked the bottle on the table. He nudged another chair into a slightly better position, then leaned back and put his feet up. He propped one elbow on the table, and simply sat for a while, watching, as others arrived.

Hannity came in with Kyle.

Jim was often surprised how much the Bridge Crew would stick together, even when their shifts were over. When on duty they did spend a lot of time together, but it was not as though they spent a lot of time socializing. He decided that just sharing common experiences from a common vantage point must be enough…

Uhura came in chatting animatedly with Chekov. Sulu followed, smiling a little. The Helmsman gave a small wave to the Captain, but didn't interrupt his reverie… The three of them went to a large empty table near the wall. It would be filled, soon, he expected; but he knew they'd make room if he came with a tray. Jim could still hear their voices, and Uhura's laughter – He had to smile, himself.

Hickerson from Security came in with Timkins, from Engineering. Watching them, Jim wondered what it would be like to wear red instead of gold. What was it like to work in another part of the ship – Did they resent being away from the action? Or did they think that they were where the action was?

Jim remembered his own days studying for his sub-spec: The Engineering professors were dedicated and as fiercely protective of their own as tigers were of their cubs. Maybe that's why the graduates of that program were so tightly-knit. Or, maybe, just like the Bridge Crew, common experiences and common adversity bonded them together.

Jim thought ruefully of labs still crowded at 3 am, when he was trying to finish his third-semester project. He recalled half-listening as he dozed between lectures, in case there was something he needed to know. He remembered grabbing at sleep ten minutes at a time, because he never knew when he'd receive the call that an "emergency' had been declared – or, no less urgent, the equipment he'd wait-listed for was finally available

The Captain glanced over at the sleeping engineer. Jim suspected that - after the excitement of Starfleet training, with full-time access to the latest information and a lab to test his work - Delta Vega had been an absolute hell. Was that what Spock meant by 'subsequent experiences'?

Jim raised his glass and clinked it softly against the one he had poured for Scott. Very quietly he said, "Here's to Spock's recommendation."

He had just put the glass to his lips, and started to feel the first fire, when he heard the burring voice. "A very perceptive man, Mr. Spock."

Jim finished the sip without spitting or choking.

He glanced over at Scott. The engineer's eyes hadn't opened, but he was definitely talking: His lips were moving. "Interesting, too. Full of ideas."

Jim managed to put the glass down without a drop spilled. He was probably staring, now.

He must have made some noise, because Scotty opened his eyes and tilted his head back so that he could look at his Captain's face. "Your Mister Spock is like a magnet for everything interesting that happens on this ship. You know that, right?"

When Jim didn't reply, Scott just shook his head a little, then closed his eyes. "You mark my words, Captain. I've spent a lot of time in that man's company - so have you, for that matter - and that's where all the excitement is."

Jim took another sip, leaning back to gaze at the ceiling. He took another - and while he was feeling the always-surprising burn, he heard the door whoosh again. Afterward, the room seemed just a little louder, a little more crowded; the air, a little more electrically charged.

He looked over. Commander Spock had arrived alone, and was standing just inside the doorway, surveying the room quietly; before heading over to the table where Hannity, Kyle, Sulu and Chekov were talking – where Uhura was waiting.

Jim dropped his feet, and picked up his drink once more. He heard Uhura greet Spock, and the Vulcan's calm reply.

Scotty had swung his feet to the floor, and had picked up his, too. "Lovely voice."

Jim looked over at Scott, who waved his glass a bit - Jim followed his glance - It was obvious who he meant. "Distinctive."

When he looked back, Scotty's eyes were laughing at him over the rim of the glass. "Not like yours, of course, Captain, but still… Makes you want to pay attention, doesn't it - just in case it says something you might want to hear?"

After another sip, Scotty drank off the rest of his glass with a single swallow, and saluted his Captain with the empty.

When Jim did the same, Scotty pushed himself to his feet.

Grinning, Jim stood, too. "No, Mr. Scott, I think you're wrong." The other's surprised face made him laugh, and he clapped his friend on the back, before turning to grab the bottle he'd left on the table. As they made their way over to the others, he said, "You're thinking like an engineer." He slowed, and Scotty matched his pace. He dropped his voice: "Spock's a scientist, a Vulcan: Not a magnet, a catalyst."