Exploration. Discovery. To bound headlong into the seemingly unknown. The concealed, the uncharted, the unnamed. The still untold tales not yet revealed to the inquisitive gaze. Is that not why this vessel is here, with her occupants of keen mind and prurient eyes? Is this not what they all signed up for, so enthused and so new? Indeed, this reasoning is theirs for the undertaking of this task. Portions of the vast black expanse not yet found, stars undocumented, oddities left unseen, planets awaiting dutiful research.

And yes, one such celestial body does enter the orbit of curious irises. An outwardly appearance of amber and russet tones, it almost bears a resemblance to the First Officer's lost home world. With the exception, of course, being the blended hint of moss tones, which daub the lit half of the atmosphere in a spectacular aura.

The Vulcan's intrigued gaze, of course, is hardly unheeded by his Captain, with the blond man pivoting his chair to glance at his friend.

"I can see that you're interested in this planet, Spock.", he begins, a smirk forming, "Want to take a closer look? For science, of course. Assuming the atmospherics are good?"

"Sensors have detected no toxins within the atmosphere. The air is quite breathable, Captain."

"Alright, then...take some of the junior officers with you. It'll be like a field trip." At the Vulcan's raised brow, the blond man alters his phrasing. "An educational expedition, Spock."

"A most agreeable notion, Captain. I will assemble an away team momentarily." A rise of the lengthy figure now, in a departure from his station.

"Don't have too much fun.", a quip sounds from the Captain, as his friend takes but a single step into the now open turbolift.

Expectedly, there is a lifted brow in response to the phrase, and the Vulcan is concealed by closing doors.

And thus, a bundle of junior science officers is summoned, subsequently joining their Senior Officer in the transporter room. Within their respective grasp, are tricorders, sampling equipment and the like, all gathered prior to their arrival to this part of the ship. With a briefing given by the First Officer, all gadgets and persons take up placements on the pad. In a hum and rings of gold luminescence, the group depart for their expedition.

ooo

The view planetside is far more absorbing, far more fascinating for the eager junior officers and their expedition leader. Striking sandy scapes of orange and peppered with spatters of moss, russet ridges extending far into the green-tinted sky, and a heat not as overwhelming as one might initially expect. The surface of this world does not betray its outer view, and yet it continues to instil a bellowing of the First Officer's curiosity.

With equipment laid out in all thoughtful manner, all methodical and evenly-spaced by the junior officers, the expedition's lead gathers the small group. In the formulation of a plan, there is a branching off, an arranging of teams. Despite the relatively small size of the collective crew members, there is enough for a few sets of two, or even three in one example.

And now, there is a breaking of the group into its respective portions and a subsequent hum of activated gadgets. The separate teams work in muffled harmony, with very meagre amounts of small talk amongst the scientific chatter. Meagre indeed, as the wonder of their surroundings and readings of tricorders grasp their attention. The Commander, of course, has consigned a task of his own; with a gadget of the equivalent size to a PADD, and a collection of small sample containers, he begins the methodical drilling of a nearby rock face. Ever cautious, he is, to not disturb any possible housing this wall may provide for local fauna or avian or insect lifeforms, he performs initial scans with a tricorder to determine the most optimal placement for sample collecting.

In silence, he makes a small burrow with the drill, whilst the junior officers collect samples of their own: a few millilitres of water here, a few grams of sand, a plant or leaf cutting there. All of these samples are small in volume, enough only for study, examination and categorisation. The specimens the Commander collects in the containers attached to his drill are each no larger than his own finger, acquired from different rock faces and boulders, and safely housed separately within their respective vessels.

The unique landscape of this world is not too dissimilar from his own; almost barren, yes, but with spatters of foliage dotted about, like the freckles on one's own skin. Familiar is the climate here, with a heat so intense and a sunglow so seemingly unforgiving. Yet, it seems alien to him at the same time. Of course it would, as no two planets are ever exactly the same, yes?

Just a couple of hours of methodical and careful specimen gathering, and the Vulcan can clearly discern some degree of weariness in the eyes of his junior peers. Moreover, the dry air and growing heat has begun to affect their very Earth-acclimated human bodies. In spite of all of this, their enthusiasm, however, seems not to have faltered during this excursion.

With all specimen containers now filled, and plentiful data contained in the tricorders, there is not much left to do for the group. So, with that, final checks are made and equipment subsequently packed into safe housing, and a call is made by the Commander via communicator, signalling the group's readiness to return to the ship. Within moments, the officers and gadgets disappear in rings of gold.

All persons and equipment now safely aboard, there soon begins the parting of the group; with the hour becoming late, the officers will be in need of rest. Before their departure, the Commander gives one final order to the Junior Officers, that being the secured placement of the sample containers in their respective sections of the Science lab, to be catalogued come the morning.

Fresh data now downloaded and stored to the ship's memory banks, the tricorders as well are returned to their proper housing. All is well, with the expedition an informative success; yet, the Commander senses something odd. There is, within his head and his eyes, a meagre weariness. Perhaps, he is due for another sleep cycle; yes, that seems an appropriate conclusion at which to arrive. And yes, the samples of ore can perchance await his cataloguing of them until the morning after, despite his eagerness to attend the task.

All in good time, as goes the idiom.

ooo

In the several days that follow, the Vulcan sifts through the collection of ore in the science lab, collating the data during his off-duty hours. The information that he records into the ship's database include: specimen measurements, such as size, shape and weight; chemical components and properties; geographic locales and formation indicators. While for some, such a process may be a tad arduous, it is far from that for the Commander, who also bears the title of Chief Science Officer. For him, this venture as a whole has been rather...

"Sem-rik...", he murmurs.

("Fascinating...")

His brow furrows at what he had just muttered. Not for many years had he uttered even a lone phrase in his home world's native tongue; and yet, that is precisely what he had just done. Some of the specimens indeed warrant an intrigued reaction; several of the compounds contained within bear a near-matching resemblance to those found in the rocks spattered across the dusty plains of his home. Such an occurrence in the great expanse of space might not be impossible, however, extremely rare given the distance between this planet and Vulcan's wrecked locale is indeed quite vast. Hence, his utterance.

With a pinch of two fingers at his nose's bridge, he makes a conclusion, secured through logic of course. This conclusion being that, perhaps, it is time for him to retire to his quarters, the confines that they offer, and the restful somnolence that soft bedding creates. Factoring the late hour with his apparent weariness, his deduction is indeed quite...logical.

In professional silence, he places the samples in their proper housing, with all data correlating to each piece attached and downloaded into the ship's database. The task at last complete, his fatigued body rises from the bench at which he had worked, and finally makes his journey toward the lab's door. In need of his next sleep cycle, he travels away from the room, leaving behind his duties. The hour is late indeed, and his quarters welcoming; no doubt the Lieutenant would gift him a visitation tonight, as she had most other nights. Of this fact he is certain, with the pair separated for such a lengthy time. In spite of his current level of fatigue, her presence is quite favourable to him. And so, in stoic silence, he paces onward.

ooo

"You know...I'm the one that's supposed to be puffed out after we make love, Spock.", her words emerge from her throat in a huff as he clambers off her. "Are you alright?"

Indeed, his breaths are almost as huffed as hers; highly irregular is this, with his superior levels of stamina. Of this fact, she is keenly aware, and is all the more reason for her inquiry.

"Perhaps...I have become more weary after my recent away mission than I initially suspected. Rest...assured, Nyota, I am alright."

"Well, a good night's sleep should fix that." Once he is settled into position at her side, her head soon nestles into his chest, with an arm encircling his torso.

"Your statement faces no opposition from me." Gentle fingers caress her damp hair whilst he speaks, a simple yet effective display of his affection for her.

In a huddle, they lay, plush bedding veiling their bare figures in its cosy embrace. Indeed, his utterance may bear some truth, and her solution for sufficient sleep a viable remedy, yet there is still within her a mild disquiet. Almost as if, deep within her heart, there is a feeling that there may be something more to his apparent weariness. That something may be amiss.

And, whilst they both begin to drift into sleep, with her mind exhibiting the earliest inclinations of worry, she holds him taut in her trim arms.

END