The reception's overall soundscape had been decreasing over the last twenty two minutes. More Jhuhjia had filtered in, were engaging with the officers and the crew who had trickled down to the main floor. The Jhuhjia occasionally corrected each other's behavior with sharp pokes and bared teeth.

Kirk stifled a yawn and surreptitiously rubbed one eye. "How are you doing?" he asked.

Spock had been lightly meditating, filling in with information as it was requested.

Kirk motioned toward the drinks table, but when he arrived he took up a water. "You're already half checked out. I think." He looked Spock over as he drank thirstily. "We should call it a night. I think we're supposed to pick up an escort at the door. The captains are staying in something that is translating as the Trunk House. Hopefully you get a room that gives you some privacy. Hopefully it's not so far you freeze on the way."

"You need not expend concern for me, Captain."

Kirk set the empty glass down. "Per usual." He sounded almost wistful. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Of course, Captain."

At the door, Spock was given a slightly sticky filament fiber wrap that resembled a moth cocoon. Apparently their hosts had been informed of the difficulty with the cold and were making do. Spock tested the stickiness to be certain it did not permanently adhere to his dress blues, and while doing so was summarily wrapped up by two Jhuhjia and led out.

The Jhuhjia walked through the moonless darkness with heads low, large eyes wide open. Spock could see as well in the darkness, but his hosts clearly assumed his ability was equal to that of a human. They paused and noted every step up and down and every obstacle no matter how minor.

They reached a hollow formed by steep hillsides lined with octogonal holes and ladders for access. He was shown with his fingers on a relief diagram in wax which opening was his. Spock climbed up and gratefully rotated the earthen hatch down and closed behind him, a setup that reminded him of a trapdoor spider. Inside it was fully modern, and while not warm, it was not bitterly cold either. His duffel, with his kit still inside, rested on its own decorative stand worthy of holding an icon. Spock donned his warmest robe and sat on the bed since the floor was far too cold for kneeling.

He badly needed sustained meditation. His reactions tonight had been alien to him and without better understanding he could not apply the correct disciplines. Worse, those reactions could increase in intensity due to a feedback loop.

Though it smelled of loam and dried reeds, his room was wonderfully still, conducive to an easy meditative mode. Spock stepped through the evening in his memory, noting each area of concern.

Firstly, he had been overestimating his own continued desire to be an outsider. If this were not so, he would not have been overly affected by a group expression of acceptance.

Secondly, he had weighed a gross misunderstanding, a wholesale untruth, as a positive. This was a logical fault. Truth was always the superior path, but in this tangled situation the error seemed to have revealed other truths that otherwise would have remained hidden.

The first of these truths was within himself prior to this and he'd simply been dismissing it, illogically so: He was, at this point, no more nor less accepted than anyone else in Starfleet. Continuing to consider himself an outsider was something he, himself, was sustaining. It now possibly represented a maladaptation to his circumstances. That implied he was holding to it for other reasons: out of habit, as part of his identity, or perhaps something else as yet unexamined. Dr. McCoy would say that he was using it as a barrier to keep others away, as the good doctor himself did with his brusqueness.

The second revealed truth involved another disregarded feature of himself: the force of his Vulcan pride. He had not experienced this emotion in this context before now and still could not fully rein it in even in the quiet of an alien room. It still warmed him as if with internal heat applied to some part of him that clung hungrily to it. It felt uneasy and unpredictable but in a pleasing way. Utterly illogical, but undeniably a part of him at the core where his disciplines would need to be applied with focused intent to have any impact, assuming those he'd been taught would have any impact at all.

Peripheral to all this, yet relevant, were the things he could not control, such as what others chose to tell themselves about reality. He would not have previously estimated that the Enterprise's personnel were likewise misled. They certainly had their own myths about their senior officers. Every combination of possible personal interaction and deed was posited, laughed over, bet on, and dismissed over time. It was simply a part of human group behavior. But given the widespread awareness of the acuity of Vulcan hearing, Spock could not begin to estimate to what percent of their own crew believed this.

Spock lowered himself into deep meditation, dissected his mind. There was more than pride present. There was one more strong emotion. Another emotion Vulcans had not thought wise to fully suppress: Possessiveness. Spock's core instincts were reacting to a situation that was entirely socially based. His usual applications of logic fell short even now while examining it. Possessiveness existed entirely in relation to others, hence why it had reared up only in the context of this unusual evening.

Pride in the service of attainment coupled with possessiveness of a mate were the paired instinctive modes deemed necessary for survival of the Vulcan race. Thus they were allowed some free rein, in some cases a place of honor, when no other emotion was, especially in the context of Vulcans entering maturity.

Spock had passed through his Time believing his human half was giving him an advantage over such powerful instincts. He must now reassess this. Logically, his Time could have matured him. But the extent of this change was impossible to determine given he had only his changed mind from which to assess it. It may have to remain an unknown.

If he had more time to settle his emotions, to analyze and understand what he was experiencing, Spock estimated this could all pass by as an episode of self-learning. As it was, he had only three point four eight hours until dawn, until he was due to assist with an analysis of infrastructure.

# # #

The tour group was led from one domed lair through a tunnel and into another lair then into another tunnel. There was a concerning lack of emergency exits. They stopped in a tunnel lined solid with root ends. It at least let light in through the plantlife. Their hosts explained that respiration collected on the small root hairs, resulting in structural growth even in the dry season. They were rather proud of this discovery as it allowed for much lighter weight construction.

Kirk looked around at the strangling mesh on all sides. "Very clever," he said, hoping it came across with the right feeling. Despite training, despite his own background in agriculture, it pricked at some deep instinct of avoidance.

The ships' botanists halted the tour yet again by asking more questions. Kirk stepped back to where the tunnel was wider, then continued back to the domed lair which was tile lined and hung with roughly woven curtains apparently designed to be tattered. In comparison, it was downright homey.

Someone approached and Kirk turned, hoping for a diversion.

"Lieutenant," Kirk said in greeting to his communications officer, then stood straighter. "I understood today was supposed to be charting of large utilities."

"It is, sir. We have set up a field office at the switch station nearby." She glanced down the nearby corridor. The natural lining of it muted the voices considerably. "I was hoping to find you, Captain."

He shifted to duty mode. "Certainly, what is it?"

She glanced again down the corridor where the tour had gone.

"Over here," Kirk said.

Unfortunately, the only side room was another, even smaller, root lined tunnel leading into darkness. They stepped a few meters into it.

Uhura crossed her arms and set her expression.

"Yes?" Kirk said.

She met his gaze in the dimness. "I don't really know to say this, sir. I was elected to come talk to you because I am the alpha shift communications officer. And one assumes I should know how to communicate."

Kirk put his fists on his hips, rapidly considering all the ways a new Federation entrant event could go wrong. "What's going on?"

Uhura tipped her head away as if frustrated, an unusal gesture from her. She was usually nearly as stoic as Spock. She seemed to struggle to find words. Her gold earrings caught the light as they swung, accentuating her movements.

"Lieutenant. Are you worried about my reaction right now?" Kirk dropped his arms, estimating his posture wasn't helping. "I'd like to think I've never given you reason to be concerned about telling me anything. Because if I have, that's another discussion we should have some time, one where I promise to be set straight."

She smiled faintly, almost motherly. "You know, Captain. I consider that I know everything that goes on on the Enterprise. It's almost impossible to do my job and not know."

Kirk nodded. "Yes. I understand. And now I'm very curious what this is about."

She smiled wryly. "It would be easier if I were a hundred percent certain. But I cannot ask you what I need to ask you to be certain."

Kirk rubbed his chin with his knuckles and waited.

She breathed in and soldiered on. "The Enterprise crew are facing some confusion due to their peers here insisting… Well, insisting that you and Commander Spock are. An item, I guess is the word I will choose."

"I see. People have nothing better to do?"

"Even the Commodore believes this, Captain."

Kirk rubbed his bottom lip. "Let me make sure I understand you, Lieutenant. You are bringing to me concerns about a rumor that is, apparently, widely believed, but irrelevant to the mission."

"Like I stated before. It's confusing the crew. Your crew. And I thought you should be aware. It also nearly started a fight last night between some members of your crew and the Lexington's."

"What? Why?"

She shrugged elegantly.

"No one needs to defend me. I can defend myself if I see the need." Even as he said this, Kirk felt ill ease seeping into him. He looked away from his officer, focused on the middle distance beyond the sinuous tangle of roots and seeking root hairs.

"Do you want me to pass that on to the crew, sir?" she asked. "It might help."

"What? Oh. Sure. But more gently. I certainly appreciate their loyalty, but this is certainly not something to make trouble over. Please leave it to me."

She nodded, studied him closely. He could see that she longed to ask but would not.

Kirk certainly was close to his Vulcan first officer, had shared melds and silent understandings that he would be unable to explain the intimacy of in human terms. He relied on him heavily. And he was the most obsessively private individual Kirk had ever met.

Kirk took a deep breath. Anger was trying to find an outlet. Highly misdirected anger.

He wasn't feeling generous enough to explain himself even in a hint. "Is that all, Lieutenant?"

She lifted her head and assumed a posture more in line with her usual pride of place, something he also found reminiscent of Spock. "Yes, sir. That's all. I hope I'm not out of line."

Kirk held fast to a gentle demeanor he did not feel. "No. I'd always rather you talk to me. Thank you."

She seemed to undertand he was putting on a facade for her benefit. She dismissed herself with a last look back from under her long eye lashes.

Kirk stood alone in an earthen tunnel breathing in alien soil, alien damp. It was quiet enough he could hear his heart beating harder than it should be. He was reacting physically to an existential threat and hoped the tour didn't miss him before he could gather himself. There was no conceivable way Spock had not overheard these rumors. As well as Kirk knew Spock, he had no certainty how Spock would react, and only worst-case scenarios for the personal fallout from this for the two of them.

# # #

The day had passed in geocoded charting and modeling of utility loading. The Jhuhjia were tirelessly eager to reap the benefits of Federation membership. They saw the ships, the images of other Federation worlds, and they wanted all of it.

They were on the whole as good natured as reports indicated and the occasional snarling fight between two or three Jhuhjia over who would initiate the start up sequence of a water wheel demonstration or who would lead the science team to the next site was over quickly. No one officially interfered, having been informed this was how conflict was harmlessly resolved. Indeed the Jhuhjia in question were on friendly terms with each other not minutes later.

Late on the first day, Starfleet had requested a more thorough demonstration of Jhuhjia plant breeding for manufacturing. This was technology unique to this planet and letting them show it off not only allowed the Federation to learn, it let the new member feel they were on more equal footing with other worlds. Sciences was previewing this hastily assembled showcase when Kirk arrived along with the Commodore and staff.

Spock delicately examined a mutated flower bud used as a pump valve, marveling at its adherence to principles of bioengineering rather than materials engineering. Kirk stepped up beside him, facing the other way.

In a low voice Kirk said, "I need to talk to you."

"Of course, Captain."

"My quarters are in the treehouse by the pond. Twenty three hundred local time."

Other senior officers were arriving. Spock handed the valve to Kirk, gave him an overview of it based entirely on his own best guesses. Kirk accepted it, took a passing interest in it and put it down, too genuinely agitated to act the part Spock set up for him. Spock put his increasing concern aside until such time as he could act upon it.

The Jhuhjia growers arrived and, in halting, awkward translation, that revealed the need for more work from linguistics, explained the items collected in the room.