The sound of his door chime drew Spock from his morning meditation—a short session he often utilized to recall information that would be pertinent to the day's work and resolve any anomalies leftover from the previous night. He rose and extinguished his incense and candle before calling, "Enter."
The door slid open to reveal Nyota, PADD in one hand. "Did I interrupt your meditation?" she asked, stepping just far enough into the room for the door to close behind her. "I know it's a little earlier than usual, but I figured you'd be ready. I just dropped by to ask if you wanted to join Sulu, Chekov, and I for breakfast in the officers' mess."
"My meditation was nearly complete," he replied honestly, hands coming to rest behind him. "If you are willing to wait approximately two minutes and twenty-six seconds, I will depart with you."
Uhura smiled in response and leaned against the wall beside his door to wait. He stepped to his closet and pulled out a fresh uniform before making his way to the 'fresher to change. He locked both doors out of instinct, although he knew Jim had left his quarters thirty-seven minutes ago.
There was a smile on Nyota's face when he returned, but she didn't say anything as she led them both from his room and down the hall to the turbolift. Two ensigns were inside, busily discussing the experiments currently taking place in Lab 7 when they stepped in and did not seem to register their presence until the lift stopped again and they exited.
The mess was busy when he and Nyota walked in, sounds of discussion and utensils clinking against plates and bowls coming from all corners of the room. Nyota waved to Chekov and Sulu who were already eating before stepping up to one of the replicators. Spock did the same, and a few minutes later, they were sitting across from Chekov and Sulu who were arguing about the merits of hands-on navigational training for Starfleet cadets.
"Hands-on training is fine, Pavel, but not when you're in space and capable of traveling at warp speed into the nearest star," Sulu exclaimed as they took their seats.
"You worry too much, Hikaru," Chekov shrugged, gesturing with his spoon as he spoke. "Besides, I am sure you could put in safety measures to prevent that from happening. Or do the exercises in a mostly empty quadrant."
"You want to put a cadet in empty space and tell them to have at it? I don't want to be on that ship. I trained with simulators until my final test at the Academy, and I aced it."
Chekov frowned and turned to Spock. "What do you think, Mr. Spock? Should third and fourth-year navigation cadets be allowed to pilot a starship?"
Spock swallowed a bite of his krei'la before saying, "I believe that cadets who have achieved high enough rankings on the simulations should be allowed the 'hands-on' experience of piloting a starship—"
"Ha! I told you, Hikaru."
"However," Spock continued, "I believe such training should be carefully guided and performed under strict parameters."
It was Sulu's turn to grin now, but whatever it was he was planning to say was cut off as the doors to the mess opened once more and Jim and Doctor McCoy walked in. Jim was gesturing widely as he spoke, eyes sparkling at the disgruntled expression on the doctor's face. The pair stepped past their table toward the replicators, Jim shooting them a grin as he did so. Despite the fact that the expression was intended for the entire group, Spock felt his heart stutter in his side. He caught Nyota's eye, and she grinned knowingly.
Sulu and Chekov returned to their conversation, but Spock hardly heard them, his attention focused on his a —his captain. There were dark circles under Jim's eyes, but his movements were as energetic as ever. He made a mental note to ensure that the captain's workload was as light as possible over the next few days—it was vital that Jim receive adequate rest.
A gentle nudge against his foot snapped Spock's attention back to the table where he sat and its occupants. Sulu and Chekov had changed topics to a navigation system currently undergoing field testing, so he turned to Nyota and raised an eyebrow.
"Is the captain going to be at the concert tonight?" she asked, an odd inflection in her voice.
"He has stated his intention to do so."
A smile slipped across her face. "Good." Before Spock could question what bearing their captain's presence had on the performance, Jim and Doctor McCoy sat, occupying the last two open seats at the table. The doctor sat beside Sulu, leaving Jim to settle in the chair to Spock's right.
"'Morning, all," Jim greeted, smiling widely. "Have you been keeping up with the Sorel-nav system, Sulu? It's being tested on the Korolev , isn't it?"
"Aye, Captain," he replied, an eager grin on his face. "The Korolev's helmsman's been posting her reports for the past couple of weeks, and it seems to be running smoothly. They're taking her closer to the edge of Federation space next week to see how well the system runs in less-charted areas."
Jim nodded. "Good, good. Command hopes to put the Sorel-nav in all the new starships beginning next year, so this data should make them happy."
The conversation turned to other upgrades that Command had planned, specifically those that would be added to the Enterprise the next time the ship was at an adequately-staffed starbase. Fifteen minutes later, they had finished eating and disposed of their trays. The group stepped into the hallway, and Spock was about to enter the turbolift when a light touch on his shoulder stopped him.
"Stay a moment, Spock?" Jim asked, and Spock nodded, allowing Nyota to step past him and into the lift. Once the doors slid closed Jim turned and strode a few paces down the hallway. Spock followed and they came to a stop just past the doors to the mess hall.
"Have you seen Ensign Silva's request to transfer to the science division?" Jim asked.
"I have," he said, falling into an easy parade rest. "I had intended to discuss the transfer with her commanding officer tomorrow. She seems a promising candidate for the science department and took extensive training in xenobiology during her time at the Academy."
"But she was command track."
"Indeed. She has overseen a portion of the First Contact research for the past seven planets we have visited, and her knowledge of both xenobiology and command procedures has been valuable."
Jim nodded slowly. "Too valuable to move her to sciences full time?" he asked after a moment.
"I do not believe so, Captain, although I do not have the appropriate data to be certain."
Jim hummed. "What if she shadowed someone in the department for a week or so? She could be given a few tasks but still have access to people who can help her adjust to the change while we see if it's a good fit for her." Jim had crossed his arms in front of himself and now leaned against the wall, brow furrowing in thought. "Lieutenant Yahontov, maybe?"
On any other starship, this conversation would likely never happen, and if it did, it would not include the captain, but this was the Enterprise, and Jim Kirk was not an ordinary captain. There were times, Spock knew, when Jim felt out of touch with his ship and its day-to-day operations, times when the admiralty or latest crisis took too much of his attention. His crew knew the truth, however, and it was evident in the respect they all held for their captain.
"He would be a logical choice," Spock said, inclining his head slightly. "I will contact him after his shift has ended today."
Jim's face brightened into a smile. "Thank you, Spock, I can always count on you. Let me know what you and Yahontov decide, alright?"
"Of course, a—Captain." Spock had to resist the instinct to tense his shoulders at his near-miss. Something as mundane as discussing department transfers with his captain shouldn't cause such affection to well within him, and yet he could not deny the warm satisfaction that seemed to blanket his mind as Jim squeezed his shoulder briefly before stepping toward the turbolift. He followed silently, listening with half an ear as Jim good-naturedly complained about the reports he had to look over and sign during his shift today.
The bridge was calm when they arrived and they both took their places with ease, Sulu rising from the captain's chair to return to the helm. Before long, the bridge was alive with the sound of Chekov and Sulu arguing, people moving from station to station, Nyota humming the song she would be singing that night, and Jim murmuring under his breath as he looked over reports. The noise had bothered him once—a sign of just how human his fellow crew members were—but now it was almost comforting in its familiarity.
92.7 percent of Spock's focus remained on his station, as it was both his duty and privilege to oversee the star charting that they were doing in this sector. The remaining 7.3 percent, however, was largely focused on attempting to determine the impact of his Realization—he capitalized the word in his mind, an illogical decision but one that seemed to reflect the magnitude of the event appropriately—on his daily interactions with Jim.
His first instinct was to insist that he would be able to function as he always had, but various experiences over the past several days proved that he could not. Jim had not seemed to notice yet, but the man did not get to be a captain so young by being oblivious. Sooner or later, Jim would realize that something had changed, and he would confront Spock as he so often did.
And when the inevitable confrontation came? What would he do then?
A small voice in the back of Spock's mind whispered that he should withdraw himself from Jim. It would be easy to do, on a starship as large as the Enterprise. He could change his shifts so that he worked when Jim slept, could distance himself from landing parties the captain was present on, could cancel their chess meetings and spend more time in the labs personally overseeing the experiments there. But he would not. He would not, because even imagining such hypothetical scenarios sent his heart clenching in his side. It took a negligible amount of effort to imagine the hurt and betrayal on Jim's face, and it was an expression Spock would rather die than see.
But what of rejection? Could he bear to see Jim's features twist to disgust as he realized that Spock had tainted their friendship with unwanted romantic regard? He doubted he would be able to withstand such a blow.
A blinking anomaly on his screen pulled him from his inner turmoil. The area of space they were currently charting was home mostly to stars in the middle of their life cycle, and yet his scanner showed an object giving off an extraordinary amount of power—an amount far closer to a star approaching supernova. It was not in a position to cause the Enterprise any harm, and he was about to make note of it in his digital log when it began to move at a speed nearly twice that of the Enterprise, on a heading that would intercept with the ship.
"Captain." Jim looked up. His lips were curled in their typical easy smile, but they hardened into a firm line as Spock said, "there is an object traveling toward us at warp 5.5, and it is displaying energy readings exceeding one times ten to the thirty-second gigajoules."
"Shields up, go to yellow alert," Jim barked instantly, and the bridge came to life as people jumped to obey his orders. "What else do we know about it, Spock?"
"Its velocity has decreased, captain. It is now traveling toward us at warp four. It appears to be roughly the size of Earth. The power levels are making it difficult to achieve accurate sensor readings, but it appears to be synthetic in nature."
"Synthetic? You mean like a ship?" Jim asked, disbelief coloring his words as his hands tightened on the armrests.
Spock met Jim's eyes. "Perhaps. I cannot detect any lifeforms through the energy output."
"Understood. Uhura, send out the universal message of peace and goodwill across all channels. I don't want to come off on the wrong foot against something that massive."
"Aye, captain, transmitting across all frequencies."
Spock bent back over his scanner. "Energy readings have decreased to one hundred billion gigajoules, Captain," he reported. "The object will reach us in 52.35 seconds." Despite the significant threat the anomaly could pose to the Enterprise , Spock couldn't help the curiosity that welled within him. What was this object made of that it could withstand such high amounts of energy followed by such a drastic decrease?
"Any response, Lieutenant?"
"Nothing, Captain."
"Keep hailing them. Chekov, put the object on the main viewer."
"Aye, Captain, coming on the main viewer now, sir."
The screen flickered for an instant before stabilizing. In the distance, there appeared to be a bright speck of light, rapidly approaching them. Soon it filled nearly the entire screen, an orb of pulsing orange and yellow, not unlike the star that Earth orbited on a much smaller, denser scale. Then, the object stopped.
There was silence. One second. Two. Thr—the communication panel in front of Uhura began to blink rapidly. "Captain, we're being hailed."
"Put it on screen, Lieutenant," Jim ordered, and Spock instinctively took the few steps that placed him at his captain's side.
The viewscreen flickered once again, and the nearly overwhelming light of the object faded, replaced instead by near pitch-black, a single beam of light providing illumination. "Greetings," Jim said, standing from his chair and stepping forward. "I am Captain James T. Kirk of the U—"
"You have trespassed into Dakk space, lightless ones," the being of light interrupted, their voice reminiscent of metal scraping across stone. "Vacate this sector. You have four minutes, and then I will be forced to render your vessel inoperable, and you will perish. I am—" the being's voice turned to a high-pitched whistle, and a headache bloomed to life behind Spock's eyes—"and I have spoken."
Silence fell over the bridge as the viewscreen flickered off. It lasted for several moments, tense and colored with the anxiety of the bridge crew until Jim turned in his seat and locked eyes with Spock. "Well," he said, grinning despite the gravity of the situation, "I think that went well, all things considered."
Spock raised an eyebrow, hands folded behind his back. "The Dakk have threatened to render the Enterprise entirely inoperable if we do not vacate this sector in the next four minutes, Captain."
Jim's easy grin only widened. "But whatever fancy weapon they have, they haven't used it yet."
A sigh began to build in Spock's chest, but he pushed it down. He knew without asking that Jim would not order the Enterprise to retreat until he was able to speak to the Dakk at least once more.
As if Jim had read his mind, he turned in his chair and said, "Lieutenant Uhura, see if you can hail them again. I'm certain we can work something out."
"Aye, Captain," she said, fingers already flying over the instruments in front of her. "The frequencies they use don't match our instruments, so this will take a minute."
"Understood."
They now had three minutes and thirty-two seconds left. "Captain, perhaps it would be prudent to retreat while the Lieutenant establishes communications. Negotiations are more likely to succeed when performed in neutral territory."
"Worried, Mr. Spock?" Jim asked, his eyes shining.
"Negative, Captain. Nevertheless, it is logical to retreat until we can gather more data about our opponents. We know very little about the Dakk, and the power output that their vessel is capable of suggests that they are able to follow through on their threat."
"You might be right, Commander, but even if they are capable of turning the Enterprise into a floating tin can I doubt they'll do it."
This time, the sigh that had built in his chest escaped in a soft huff. "Ashayam, this conflict is easily avoidable." The second the words left his lips, Spock felt a cold dread settle in his stomach. Jim's face flitted through a half-dozen expressions too quickly for Spock to identify them, but before either of them could say anything, Lieutenant Uhura spoke up.
"Hailing frequencies open, Captain."
Jim held his gaze for another beat before turning back to the front of the bridge. "Thank you, Lieutenant. On-screen."
Spock's eyes turned to the viewscreen, drawn more by the sudden illumination than by any conscious command. His mind spun with the implications of his mistake, but he shoved those thoughts down as the being of light came into focus. He was a Starfleet officer—he would not be so easily distracted from his duties.
"What do you want, lightless ones?" the being asked in their rough voice. They had no facial features by which to judge their emotions or anticipate their responses, but Jim seemed unfazed, back straight as he stepped forward.
"Peace," he answered simply. "We come from the United Federation of Planets, and we are on a mission of discovery and goodwill."
"The Dakk have no need for your Federation."
Jim bowed his head gracefully. "We'll leave you alone, if that's what you want. Our purpose in this sector is to chart the stars here to learn about them and make travel safe for other members of our Federation. May we continue in our mission?"
The being seemed to think for a moment, humming long and high as they did so. "Very well. Put it on your maps, lightless one, that this is the territory of the Dakk. You may travel as you please, but any interference or attempts to establish a permanent presence here will not be tolerated."
"Thank you. The Federation will honor your wishes," Jim promised, and even as Spock's mind spiraled further and further out of control he could not help but wonder at the ease with which Jim faced and conquered the unknown.
The view screen went dark, and Jim collapsed into the captain's chair with a loud sigh of relief. He tilted his head up and to the side, an easy grin spreading across his face. "See, Spock, I told you it would turn out fine."
"Indeed, captain," he replied, careful to keep the turmoil in his mind from reaching his voice. Jim's eyes sparkled.
"Resume course, Mister Sulu. Uhura, did the computers record all of that conversation?" As Nyota responded in the affirmative and Jim ordered the recording analyzed and sent to Starfleet, Spock stepped back to his station. He felt Nyota's eyes on him, but he ignored her, illogically hoping that if he did not acknowledge his mistake, they would not either.
The muscles in his back and shoulders remained tense for the duration of his shift, despite his efforts to relax them. Every time Jim spoke, he expected the words to be directed at him: for the captain to demand a translation of the word, an explanation for his unprofessional behavior. But the words he dreaded never came, and when the clock ticked into the next shift he quietly exited the bridge as Jim discussed the reports he had signed with his yeoman.