Chapter 3 - Debriefing

Despite being muted, Spock's Academy-assigned padd chirruped in the middle of class, in a way Spock had not heard before. Two officers in the rows ahead turned around to look back. Spock pulled the padd closer. A message with an official looking bracket around it flashed for his attention. It was from Commander Salicia Graham and it ordered him to report to her for a debriefing.

Spock expanded the message and replied that he was in class, but could depart if necessary.

A reply flashed back. "There aren't any first year classes scheduled at this time."

"I am not attending a first year class."

"Figures."

There was a lull. Spock didn't know the proper protocol to continue the interaction, and suspected the conversation was already outside protocol. Down in front, Captain Chanel was discussing modeling and estimation of short and long-term radiation hazards in living quarters and estimate model selection based on ship mission type and duty cycles.

A new line popped up. "Contact me as soon as you are available."

Spock hit the provided 'acknowledge' button and the message shrank away.

Just over an hour later, Spock followed the stream of officers out of the auditorium. As usual, several stopped to greet others, carry on conversations from the previous class meeting. Spock listened in to light banter, followup of life events, gossip. The atmosphere was vastly different from that of a class of Academy students, promisingly so.

Spock slipped sideways through the door and into the crowded corridor. He would have to exit the Annex to have enough privacy to use a communicator for a call.

"Well, that's delicious. Like an ice cream cone on a hot day. Ready to be licked as it melts."

Spock raised his head from checking his messages for a transmitter ID. This was the voice of Jaek, one of the third year cadets. He had cool brown skin and his black hair had been cut so short it appeared fuzzy.

Horton, Jaek's fairer companion with a shiny bald head, spoke lower. "If it ever does melt. Might be too icy. What an aft quarter, though. I'd follow that bootie anywhere."

Spock looked beyond the pair. Commander Graham was standing before the shifting 3D display covering the wall outside the auditorium, speaking in friendly terms with a Lieutenant from their class. Graham was narrow framed, and her light brown hair was fixed in a series of waves, ending in a curl toward her neck, a more reserved style than she'd worn in the feeds with Kirk months ago.

"Mmmm mm," Jaek said with excessive feeling. He caught sight of Spock behind them. "Get lost, Plebe. This is a virile, human male conversation."

Spock stepped between them, sideways to avoid touching either of them, and walked over to Graham, waited two meters away for her attention to turn his way.

"What's that skinny ogre doing?" Jaek said. "Cripes."

Spock heard them approach. Graham turned.

"Ah, Cadet. Just the Vulcan I needed to see." She glanced sharply at the other two coming up behind Spock. Spock heard them stop.

Graham's attention returned to Spock. She looked him up and down with an appraising eye. "Well. Interesting to finally meet you. Only got to hear your voice before now. In fact, I still hear it in my flashbacks."

Spock bowed his head. "I am very pleased to see you whole and in uniform, sir."

"No thanks to your best efforts otherwise, Cadet. I am indeed alive and back on duty." Her face relaxed, formed one of the subtle sly smiles Kirk favored in similar conversation. "But I'm here, right now, because you missed getting a critical debriefing."

"I reported to security, sir."

"I saw that one. It's not about that. Actually, you are doing me the incredible favor of saving me from reading yet another report. This way, I'm justified in just milking you for what I want over drinks." She turned and started walking. Spock followed, came alongside. "You drink?" she asked.

"Not generally, sir. It has little effect on me."

"You sound like an expensive date, Cadet. Well, you can watch me down a few daiquiris. It's a tradition for me to get at least one from this little tavern near HQ before shipping out and I haven't had a chance yet. It's a bit of superstition of mine. You probably don't partake of those, either."

Spock could feel eyes on him from behind.

"No, sir."

"You must be great at parties."

Automatic doors sealed behind them. They were in HQ proper, but in the public corridors. She glanced behind them without breaking stride.

"Getting harassed, Cadet?"

"Actually, sir. You were."

"Ohhh ho." She smiled like a predator. "Yeah. Little boys."

"Fascinating," Spock said. "This penchant for the males of your species to do the exact opposite of that which would be most likely to woo a mate."

She walked with her head down, hiding a laugh. She shook her head, making her hair sway, became serious again an instant later. They stepped through the interlock of the outside doors.

"It's two blocks that way. Called the Tooth of the Dragon." Her communicator chirped and she flipped it out. "I just have to deal with this."

She took care of ship's business as they walked. It was sunny today, but heavily breezy, the kind of day where Spock noticed that his duty uniform wasn't sufficiently windproof. He was grateful when they arrived.

The tavern's purple metallic scaly entrance was squeezed between an interplanetary exchange office and an automated masseuse and UV parlor. The tables were each in an claw themed alcove with chainmail curtains.

"Thermal shirt, Cadet," she said. "How about over here?"

They slid in across from each other at a table in the corner.

"Sir?"

"Duty thermal shirt. You should be wearing one under your uniform if you got cold on that walk. I'm wearing one now. That's how I know."

"Yes, sir."

She set her communicator down, open to the ship's computer for audio logging, spoke an introduction onto the file with her name and serial number, had Spock do the same.

She looked straight at him. "You were with the Militants."

"Yes, sir."

Nerves overtook her skin for a few heartbeats, then the effect passed.

She said, "Vulcan Planetary Council has requested that the Federation remove their POWs from a correctional institution on Tantalus V and deliver them to a station in Vulcan orbit. USS Hampton has been ordered to do that. I want to know what I might be dealing with en route with these unusual guests. Just so you know the background."

"Understood, Commander."

"I can't believe you weren't debriefed. There should be hours of interviews for the computer to use for intelligence. Did your father block it? I saw he's a bit influential."

"Not to my knowledge. He has stated to me that I must face the consequences of my choices."

"Someone dropped the ball, then. Or assumed he'd object and didn't want to make official waves. Given the diplomatic strain we were under at the time, I suppose I can accept that."

She verified stardates and locations for the log. "All right, Cadet. Your ship commander was Zuram, right? That how you say his name?"

"Sufficiently accurate."

"Tell me about him."

Spock did so, while Graham sipped a dark pink liquid smelling of fruit and alcohol. He explained how Zuram ran the ship, how he recruited, how he usually seemed angry but kept it under control, which was unusual, usually a Vulcan would regain control or lose control completely if conditions went unresolved indefinitely. She prompted him for personality traits, started to conduct what if scenarios. Would he try and escape and how? Spock informed her that he had to guess, and did so. It became easier to guess as he went on. And Spock wondered at his willingness to forgo the rigors of logic based on hard facts.

When he slowed in his recitation, she said, "I understand what a guess is, Cadet. You know more soft info than you realize. And I need that out of you. Go on."

Spock continued. She asked more. Was Zuram still violent? Why was he a Militant in the first place?

Spock ran out of things to say about his former commander, even guesses. She ate peanuts one at a time in the ensuing silence.

"Did you have to do anything you regret?" She looked him up and down.

"Only to stand by helplessly. I was not with them long enough to be trusted with perpetrating violence. It can trigger a bloodlust that is difficult to rein in."

"Now, that's interesting. Who was second in command?"

Spock went through the officers of the flagship. She nodded often, drank a second daiquiri.

"I was tempted to request you for the mission," she said.

"That would not be wise. I betrayed them and my presence would be un-helpful. James, on the other hand, would be helpful to you."

Her left brow went up. Spock wondered if she'd picked that up from him just in the last forty-five minutes.

"How so? If your plan is to keep him from Lohanna, it won't work. Tantalus is only 4 days away. This should be a milk run. Worse case, Kirk needs new transport arrangements."

"I realize that. I suggest it because I know Zuram respects James."

"Now that does sound useful." She pushed the peanuts away. "The ambassador in his report stated that Zuram seemed frightened, hence his request. What would it take to scare him?"

"There was one being who frightened him, but he is dead. I have no alternative theories that are plausible. He would not frighten easily."

"That was my assumption. There've been some strange reports from suppliers to the colony and from the organization that oversees the penal facility. Nothing actionable, but odd stuff. Reports of one thing, then negations of those reports. And now a scared Vulcan Militant. Not a situation to just waltz into without eyes wide open and brain fully engaged."

She pushed the peanuts aside. "Can I buy you one, or do you need to get back?"

"I have completed my last class period of the day. But I do not require alcohol, although I understand and appreciate the social meaning of the offer."

She flipped the communicator closed and left it on the table. She looked him up and down for a fourth time. "I have to admit, I couldn't imagine what Kirk saw in you, especially given your age. I'll concede you might have one or maybe two redeeming qualities."

"I also was curious to meet you, Commander, after seeing you with James in the feeds. And I am very pleased that you are intact. And I am honored at the risk you put forth toward preserving my planet-"

"Your father already covered this." This was snapped out.

Spock nodded.

She sucked down the remaining portion of her daiquiri in one long pull, set it aside, looked at her fingertips.

Spock kept his gaze down, gave the impression that he could wait indefinitely.

She put her glass aside with care. "This has been a tougher action to get over than arguably much worse ones."

She looked around the bar outside the alcove. Frowned.

"It was the way all the assumptions got flipped upside down. The way people acted without any introspection and it was all hands to prevent something that shouldn't have been possible in the first place. And then. The way once command started shining a light on things, I was seen as suspicious. Me. Had to fight like a demon to prove otherwise. I don't like to believe we're that fragile on either side of things. Even after what happened. Starfleet, that is. We're supposed to be on the side of right. I still believe that. And maybe that potentially makes me part of the problem."

She picked up and sucked up the newly melted and pink stained ice water. "This mission looks like it might be upside down as well. Who the hell knows what's going on?" She waved the bartender away from giving her a refill. "It'll be good to have James along. He's solid. Resilient. Doesn't seem to care if there's chaos."

"He sees situations clearly when it seems most unlikely to gain such perception."

She nodded, pushed out of the booth. "I have a ship full of things to take care of." She tugged her uniform down crisply. "And back to the Academy with you, Cadet. You've taken up enough of my time."

"Yes, sir. And good luck, sir."

She gave her head a rapid shake. "What kind of Vulcan are you?"

"I am myself, sir."

"I see. Well. Hold onto that if you can."


"Spock," Kirk put his hands on Spock's arms and gripped hard. He had arrived in Spock's dorm room as soon as Spock messaged that he had returned from dinner and a lab assignment.

Kirk shook his head. "Instead of shipping out in eight days, I'm shipping out in eight hours."

"Did I act in error?"

Kirk relented, spoke gently. "No."

Spock said, "You have acted bored the last few days. Unusually fidgety."

Kirk smiled. "I have been that. But what exactly did you tell Graham? I've only talked to Zuram twice, maybe three times. Through a forcefield."

"Zuram contacted my father specifically to verify that my brother was dead. My father explained how he died. Zuram told him he was impressed with you before, but this increased his opinion."

Kirk put his chest out. "I didn't get the sense your old commander was impressed with me."

"He stated to my father that he thought you were strong and fair despite the broader situation encouraging otherwise. That isolation from circumstance to retain one's own path is one of the essences of Vulcan strength, even for those who do not closely follow Surak."

Kirk let out a long breath. "And Zuram respects the personal touch when it comes to killing. I suppose I knew that."

"And he was frightened of Sybok, unable to overcome him, which you succeeded at."

Kirk rubbed his forehead. "I haven't thought about what happened lately. At least one of those melds pushed the memories down a bit, I suspect. Made the memories feel old." He lifted his gaze. "How are you doing? I haven't asked."

"I am well enough. I have more memories of him than those last few. Those recent memories are, perhaps, diluted by that past. I am relieved, perhaps regretful to be so, if I allow myself to feel anything."

Kirk touched Spock's arms again, rocked up and kissed him. "I should report to the Hampton a little earlier than my orders. That leaves us a few hours."

"Do you wish to engage in intercourse again?"

Kirk grinned, shook his head. "No. I just want to hold you."


Spock lay staring at the ceiling. He thought over his Leadership readings, wondered about the sections he had not understood. He did not wish to question Kirk about them, as he had planned to previously.

Kirk was curled around him, on his side, his bare skin shifting minutely over Spock's as he breathed. He wasn't asleep, but his eyes were closed and he lay unmoving. Spock could feel Kirk's pulse in his leg, at his wrist where it lay over his chest, could feel his heart against his ribs. He smelled vaguely like the ocean.

Spock closed his eyes as well, let himself float without disciplines. Let his human nervous system responses take over. Fell into sleep.