Spock set to work immediately drawing up all information he could find on all of the Orion clans that Jim had mentioned in their officially-unofficial meeting.

He dove into the disjointed practices of trade, espionage and business that the clans collaborated and warred through. It was all very savage and Spock found himself more than once distracted by thoughts of Kirk's supposed 'experience' with them.

His replicator had been on the fritz for some time- having slated his own repairs after the more important ones of the crew- so he was forced to leave his quarters to retrieve tea from the main mess, despite having quite buried himself in his work by this point.

"You know, I keep telling you to get that thing fixed," Jim grins at him all sunny smiles and bright, gleaming eyes as he hops to fetch his own order from the replicator-something rather unappetizingly called taco pizza from Jim's hometown, so-he-says. "How's the preparations?"

Spock declined to comment on the 'meal' Kirk had chosen.

"Tedious." He told Kirk as he inhaled some of the delicate steam lifting from his mug.

Excuse you it is literally the most nutritious and normal meal Spock has ever seen how even dare him.

"Theris'masu, yeah? I recognize the smell," Jim indicates the tea Spock's drinking. It's the first time Vulcan's ever come out of his mouth, at least as far as Spock is aware-Jim certainly never asked him what it meant. "What've you found so far?" he glances up from his own beverage, a blinding cup of Betazoid haisha powerful enough to kickstart the dead.

"The bartering and diplomatic tactics of these clans varies widely and seems often to depend on the whim and mood of said clan's leaders." Which was maddening, for a man who relied on scientific systems that followed logical progression.

"That's Orions for you," Jim huffs. "Kolar doesn't have governments the way we think of them. You ever hear the old joke, how can you tell an Orion merchant ship from an Orion pirate ship? If it's got weapons, it's a pirate ship. As long as you don't act like a steel rod's jammed up your ass by Starfleet Command, they'll probably respect you. Vulcans are good at keeping cluros."

He waited patiently for the tea to cool, not one to burn his lip on the first sip, "Vulcans keep their word." He agreed with the faintest sniff.

Jim keeps whatever thoughts he has about that to himself, but he meets Spock's eyes over the rim of his mug. "So we'll be landing on Relar in four days, so we'll have a little time to strategize. My contact's this guy," he slides over a touchscreen PADD with an image flickering to life as Spock wakes it up. It's a man who appears Vulcanoid, but the beaded dreadlocks in his hair and his clothing-style make it obvious he's Rigelian. "Kijja Seshanshaya, one of the patriarchs of the Heart clan of Viltan, one of Rigel's southern countries. He has a history of brutality, as does his father, but his wife influences his policies significantly in the area. It's advantageous to him to have a good relationship to the Syndicate, so if we get on his good side, there is a good chance we can resolve this without any bloodshed."

"I presume you have some idea how to get to that 'good' side?"

Jim's fingers drum the table rhythmically. "Water. Lots and lots of water. And if that doesn't work, I don't know. Maybe he likes juggling."

"Your lack of certainty on this matter is concerning." He informed Kirk.

"OK, hotshot," Jim raises his hands. "I don't hear you coming up with any brilliant solutions, so we're going to have to try it my way. And it's not a terrible plan. Han'shir is the hottest part of Rigel, they lack Federation resources and technology, it'll probably work."

"A hydrogen transformer may be an acceptable answer." He agreed thoughtfully, "However juggling is an untenable second option."

"Is not."

"I assure you Orions are not impressed by circus acts - their forms of entertainment are far more... diverse." he eyed Kirk as though expecting the Captain to correct him. Since he had so much ~experience.

"Good thing Kijja isn't an Orion," Jim shoots back dryly. "Although I'm betting he's probably got the same appetites. Rigelians, man. Now there's a people who know how to party."

"They have similar roots." Spock agreed, not going to far as to comment on the partying practices of the Rigelians.

Jim hums idly, taking a long sip of his drink while mulling over the real issue at hand thoughtfully. "Mentsh trakht un gott lakht," he murmurs under his breath.

"Pardon?" Spock eyed Jim's mug.

Jim grins brightly. "It means sometimes you have to get in there and figure it out, so that's what we'll do."

"Indeed." Spock did not sound convinced but he did sound as though he acknowledged that he would not be changing Kirk's mind any time soon. Which meant he'd have to do his own research and formulate his OWN backup plans.

Jim reaches over and pats his arm. "We'll make a plan. We'll make thirty plans if you want. Examine everything from every angle ad infinitum. And I want you to keep doing what you're doing. The more we know about everyone involved, the easier that will be."

Spock blinked. His deep brown eyes shifted to his arm where Kirk's hand had connected and for a moment he looked mildly alarmed- just a flicker of it in the way that his brows twitched.

"Very well." he agreed, "I will have a report for you by o'nine hundred."

Jim stands, collecting his tray with his half-eaten pizza disaster. "I await with bated breath," he gives a wry two-fingered salute before picking up his mug. On the way out he interjects between two crewmembers who both burst into laughter at something inaudible Jim's spoken, an off-hand joke, a meaningless triviality.