Captain's log, Stardate 234859.98. The USS Enterprise is on a routine
mission to sector 234. Most of my crew needs shore leave. Well, except
for Spock, whose only needs are a hard rock to lay his head on and numerous
scientific problems that give me a headache. This next mission should be a
breeze, though, knock on wood, and from there it's straight on to Rigel 7.
I like to think of this next mission as a sort of a Spock Shore leave. It
should keep him busy for several weeks.
Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise leaned back in his chair, punching the red enter button on the arm, then swiveled around, observing his bridge crew. Lieutenant Uhura was leaning over her station, her mike in her ear, puzzling over a set of frequencies Commander Spock had asked her to decode for him. Her eyes were half closed, deep in thought, and her dark eyelashes curled gracefully over her cheek. Her legs were crossed, and her pile of black hair only seemed to add to the delicacy of her face.
"Uhura, get me Spock."
"Yes sir." The Bantu woman stretched across her control board, and hit a white switch. "Mr. Spock to the Bridge."
As she said those words, the turbo-lift doors swished open, and the science officer stepped elegantly into the bridge, cocking a sharp eyebrow at the communication's officer. "I believe I foresaw your next move, Captain," he said with a certain amount of dry humor. The Vulcan first officer was immaculately outfitted in his blue science uniform neatly combed black hair. The greenish cast of his skin was hardly noticeable under the lighting of the bridge. The only sign of his alien heritage was his sweeping, elf-like ears, slanted eyebrows, and perfectly straight face.
Kirk swung around in his chair, giving his first officer and best friend a boyish grin. "Check, Spock?"
"Indeed, Captain."
Just recently, Spock had taken to applying chess related metaphors to real life situations. It had amazed Dr. McCoy, who had remarked snidely to Kirk that he hadn't known that the Vulcan language had included a word for metaphor. The Chief Medical officer was known throughout the ship for his determination to expose Spock's emotional side. McCoy's constant barrage of drawling banter amused the Vulcan to no end. In some of their more reputable battles, the crew would take bets on who would win. The most recent battle had been, as Spock had stated dryly, "whether or not creativity was proof of emotion". The doctor had lost that one, and the chief engineer, Scotty, had had to buy drinks for twenty crewmen.
"Is McCoy still upset over your most recent debate?"
The Vulcan's mouth twitched upward slightly. "He does insist on me taking my physical within this week. I believe his motive is to dissect my "damned Vulcan brain" to find out what "makes it tick". It does not seem that he realizes that I have taken his King."
"Don't be so sure of yourself, Spock. You might find that Dr. McCoy doesn't want to replace it."
The Vulcan cocked his eyebrow, and swung back to his station.
"Keptin, we're approaching planet H-890."
Kirk looked over at Chekov. "On screen Ensign."
The planet appeared, a great tan rock floating over a background of black speckled with diamonds. Thin blue streaks marked rivers that webbed their way sparsly over its surface.
"This planet is class R, right?" Kirk said to Spock.
"Yes. Its atmosphere is covered in gamma radiation. However, it should not take affect on the landing party immediately on our arrival to the planet. We can stay there for a year if necessary without life support. After that length of time, the radiation should begin to take effect.
Suddenly, there was a jolt, and, Kirk grasped at the arms of his chair. Spock swayed in his seat and grabbed onto his scanner, leaning over it. "What's going on?"
The blue glow of the computer bathed Spock's eyes. "The planet is concealing a wormhole which is effecting the revolution of the planet around its sun."
"Are we in any danger of it?"
"No Captain. The Enterprise can steer clear of it." The Asian Pilot, Sulu, scowled into his instruments as he levered the ship into a tighter orbit. The ship responded with a shudder, but the pilot's deft fingers held her in a tighter circle.
"We're still clear of the planet's minimum orbit point?"
"Yes sir. We will spiral into the point in about 24 hours. After that, we'll have to pull out."
"Couldn't we just… pull out and start all over again?"
"No sir. The strain on the engines would be too great. Mr. Scott will be having a fit down in engineering as it is."
Sure enough, I whistle sounded from Uhura's board, and she turned to him expectantly. "Engineering, Sir."
Kirk chuckled. "Tell Mr. Scott that he doesn't have to worry. Will 24 hours be enough time to collect your data, Mr. Spock?"
The Vulcan arched his eyebrow. "More than sufficient, Captain. It should take approximately 13.56 hours to collect the data requested by Starfleet, and 4.67 hours to collect data for my personal research project. If I have a team of scientists with me, I should be able to cut the time in half."
"You'll have better than that, Spock. You'll have your Captain and Ships doctor with you, cheering you on."
The slender eyebrow arched louder, and the voice had an element of disdain in it. "Cheering Captain?"
"You try playing American football without cheerleaders, Spock. They're half the amusement," McCoy chuckled.
Laughing at the Vulcan's confused face, Kirk pounded a fist onto the comm. "Get a team of scientists and a couple security guards with you, Sammenen. We're going down to the planet.
Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise leaned back in his chair, punching the red enter button on the arm, then swiveled around, observing his bridge crew. Lieutenant Uhura was leaning over her station, her mike in her ear, puzzling over a set of frequencies Commander Spock had asked her to decode for him. Her eyes were half closed, deep in thought, and her dark eyelashes curled gracefully over her cheek. Her legs were crossed, and her pile of black hair only seemed to add to the delicacy of her face.
"Uhura, get me Spock."
"Yes sir." The Bantu woman stretched across her control board, and hit a white switch. "Mr. Spock to the Bridge."
As she said those words, the turbo-lift doors swished open, and the science officer stepped elegantly into the bridge, cocking a sharp eyebrow at the communication's officer. "I believe I foresaw your next move, Captain," he said with a certain amount of dry humor. The Vulcan first officer was immaculately outfitted in his blue science uniform neatly combed black hair. The greenish cast of his skin was hardly noticeable under the lighting of the bridge. The only sign of his alien heritage was his sweeping, elf-like ears, slanted eyebrows, and perfectly straight face.
Kirk swung around in his chair, giving his first officer and best friend a boyish grin. "Check, Spock?"
"Indeed, Captain."
Just recently, Spock had taken to applying chess related metaphors to real life situations. It had amazed Dr. McCoy, who had remarked snidely to Kirk that he hadn't known that the Vulcan language had included a word for metaphor. The Chief Medical officer was known throughout the ship for his determination to expose Spock's emotional side. McCoy's constant barrage of drawling banter amused the Vulcan to no end. In some of their more reputable battles, the crew would take bets on who would win. The most recent battle had been, as Spock had stated dryly, "whether or not creativity was proof of emotion". The doctor had lost that one, and the chief engineer, Scotty, had had to buy drinks for twenty crewmen.
"Is McCoy still upset over your most recent debate?"
The Vulcan's mouth twitched upward slightly. "He does insist on me taking my physical within this week. I believe his motive is to dissect my "damned Vulcan brain" to find out what "makes it tick". It does not seem that he realizes that I have taken his King."
"Don't be so sure of yourself, Spock. You might find that Dr. McCoy doesn't want to replace it."
The Vulcan cocked his eyebrow, and swung back to his station.
"Keptin, we're approaching planet H-890."
Kirk looked over at Chekov. "On screen Ensign."
The planet appeared, a great tan rock floating over a background of black speckled with diamonds. Thin blue streaks marked rivers that webbed their way sparsly over its surface.
"This planet is class R, right?" Kirk said to Spock.
"Yes. Its atmosphere is covered in gamma radiation. However, it should not take affect on the landing party immediately on our arrival to the planet. We can stay there for a year if necessary without life support. After that length of time, the radiation should begin to take effect.
Suddenly, there was a jolt, and, Kirk grasped at the arms of his chair. Spock swayed in his seat and grabbed onto his scanner, leaning over it. "What's going on?"
The blue glow of the computer bathed Spock's eyes. "The planet is concealing a wormhole which is effecting the revolution of the planet around its sun."
"Are we in any danger of it?"
"No Captain. The Enterprise can steer clear of it." The Asian Pilot, Sulu, scowled into his instruments as he levered the ship into a tighter orbit. The ship responded with a shudder, but the pilot's deft fingers held her in a tighter circle.
"We're still clear of the planet's minimum orbit point?"
"Yes sir. We will spiral into the point in about 24 hours. After that, we'll have to pull out."
"Couldn't we just… pull out and start all over again?"
"No sir. The strain on the engines would be too great. Mr. Scott will be having a fit down in engineering as it is."
Sure enough, I whistle sounded from Uhura's board, and she turned to him expectantly. "Engineering, Sir."
Kirk chuckled. "Tell Mr. Scott that he doesn't have to worry. Will 24 hours be enough time to collect your data, Mr. Spock?"
The Vulcan arched his eyebrow. "More than sufficient, Captain. It should take approximately 13.56 hours to collect the data requested by Starfleet, and 4.67 hours to collect data for my personal research project. If I have a team of scientists with me, I should be able to cut the time in half."
"You'll have better than that, Spock. You'll have your Captain and Ships doctor with you, cheering you on."
The slender eyebrow arched louder, and the voice had an element of disdain in it. "Cheering Captain?"
"You try playing American football without cheerleaders, Spock. They're half the amusement," McCoy chuckled.
Laughing at the Vulcan's confused face, Kirk pounded a fist onto the comm. "Get a team of scientists and a couple security guards with you, Sammenen. We're going down to the planet.