Spock fell into parade rest behind Jim's right shoulder as they came to a stop at the head of the conference table. The screen in the middle was blinking faintly, an indication that a video-caller was waiting for them to accept the transmission. In front of him, Spock saw Jim take one, two deep breaths and then lean forward to push the button that would open the call.
A moment later, Admiral Sheen appeared on the screen. The admiral was a woman in her mid-fifties, although her hair was still a deep brown. Spock knew little of her beyond her official service record, but that was evidence enough of her capabilities. She had mediated civil wars on three different planets during her tenure as a captain and her record as an admiral thus far was equally impressive.
"Captain Kirk, Commander Spock," she greeted with a nod to them each in turn. "Thank you for joining me on such short notice."
"Of course, Admiral. What do you need the Enterprise to do?" Jim asked, forgoing any additional small-talk. Spock appreciated the decision.
"How much do you know about the planet Ewle?"
Spock watched Jim's head tilt a fraction to the side and knew the man was frowning faintly. "Not much, I'm afraid. They've been seeking to join the Federation for a few years, but the process has been delayed by the beginning of one of their holy cycles. Something about the government being unable to make important decisions during that time? Mister Spock?"
"The Shadcha cycle began three standard years ago, Captain, and Ewlean tradition dictated that no treaties be signed during the cycle, however, negotiations have continued," Spock supplied. "My knowledge beyond that is limited."
Admiral Sheen nodded. "You are both correct. The cycle was expected to last another year, but a child was born in one of their temples two standard days ago with some kind of birthmark that apparently marks the end of the cycle."
Jim nodded. "So you need someone to go and finish the negotiations."
"Yes, Captain, although this is a...unique situation. The treaty is drafted and ready to be signed. The Ewlean have agreed to all of the terms and seem eager to begin participating in the Federation. However, they warned us that before they could sign anything, the representatives of the Federation would need to pass four trials, one for each of their holy attributes."
Spock forced down the urge to sigh. He was not one for superstitions, but even he had to admit that the Enterprise seemed to encounter such 'unique' situations with a much greater frequency than other Starfleet vessels, even those assigned First Contact duties. If Jim's mind was running through any of the same thoughts, however, they weren't evident in his voice when he spoke,
"Do we have any additional information about the trials?" he asked.
"We know a few things. Each trial will exemplify one of the four holy attributes, which translate roughly to 'cultivation', 'artistic expression', 'leadership', and 'negotiating'. Each trial has to be completed by a different member of your crew, Captain. From what the Ewlean have told us, the trials involve a special drug that induces specific hallucinations without inhibiting movement. The priest will—"
"They're going to drug us, Admiral?" Jim interrupted, and Spock could hear a faint tremor in his voice. He doubted the admiral would pick up on it, but he stepped forward and allowed his shoulder to brush his captain's regardless, giving the man a physical sensation to ground himself with.
"I understand your hesitation, Captain, but Ewlean scientists have tested the drugs and found them safe for humans and Vulcans alike."
Jim's shoulders squared. "I would like an explanation of the drugs' makeup sent to my Chief Medical Officer regardless, Admiral."
The woman's lips twisted into an understanding smile. "Of course, Captain." Jim nodded his thanks and gestured for her to continue. "The trials will be a mix of mental and physical, but I've been assured that any injuries will be minor. This isn't supposed to be life and death. Really, it's just an elaborate ceremony."
Privately, Spock doubted that was entirely the case. Too often, the Enterprise had been assured safety and met with danger instead. Miscommunication was a common problem in a Federation composed of dozens of planets and even more cultures and languages. A perfect translation of such a culturally specific event as these trials was highly improbable.
"Understood, Admiral. When is the Enterprise expected at Ewle?"
"In eight standard days," Sheen replied. "The trials will begin the day after you arrive, and will continue, one per day, for four days, with the treaty being signed on the fifth."
Jim nodded slowly, absorbing the information and no doubt already determining who in the crew was best suited for each trial. "How long will it take us to reach the planet from our current position, Mr. Spock?"
"Approximately 6.73 standard days at our current velocity, Captain, assuming there are no delays."
"And there always seem to be delays," Jim muttered under his breath, quiet enough that the admiral would not be able to hear. Then louder, "We will alter course for Ewle right away, Admiral."
"Thank you, Captain. I am sending the full briefing along with the notes of the officers who were originally set to take the trials to your PADD. Choose your representatives wisely, Captain, and if possible, see to it that you and your First Officer are among those who take the trials."
Jim nodded shortly. "Yes, ma'am. My communications officer will be in touch if we require any further clarification."
"Good luck Captain, Commander," Admiral Sheen said and then the screen flickered to the Federation logo, which lingered a few moments before fading to black as the screen powered off.
As soon as the admiral disappeared, Spock saw Jim's shoulders slump. The man leaned forward, his hands resting heavily on the table.
Spock moved without thinking.
Jim started as his hand came to rest gently on the man's shoulder, but he quickly relaxed into the touch. "I suppose our easy run of things had been lasting too long anyway. Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later," he said with a huffing, humorless laugh.
"Indeed." Perhaps he could have argued the illogic in his captain's belief, but Spock was too focused on pushing a subtle feeling of comfort through his fingers to bother constructing such an argument. Jim would not want to hear it.
"I'll send the senior officers a message to let them know about the new orders. Meeting before shift tomorrow, you think?"
"It would be advantageous to deliver the pertinent information as soon as possible," Spock agreed. It would mean they would both need to delay their sleep in order to read the briefing from the admiral, but Spock knew Jim rarely slept with any consistency so soon after receiving new orders that could put his crew in danger.
"Mmm. Any ideas for who to send to the trials?" Jim's shoulders still held tension in them, but his voice was less strained now. Spock continued to send focused waves of comfort through his fingers—carefully keeping his mind shielded from Jim's emotions—as he replied,
"You are the most obvious choice to fulfill the attribute of 'leadership', Captain, and I believe Mr. Sulu or a member of the Biology Department would suit 'cultivation', assuming that the word is to be taken in a biological meaning."
Jim rolled his shoulders and stood, and Spock allowed his hand to fall away. "My first thought for 'artistic expression' was Uhura, but I'm not sure what the Ewlean mean by art. Does singing count? She paints too, but then again, what we might consider beautiful could be offensive or even overly simplistic to them." The tension was back in Jim's voice, but this time Spock resisted the urge to step forward and calm his ashayam. His emotional controls were already frayed from the performances, and he doubted his ability to continue to shield properly.
"It is likely that the briefing will provide more information, Jim. There are eight days before the decision must be made."
A small smile appeared on Jim's face and his eyes softened. "Is that your way of telling me to slow down and stop panicking, Mr. Spock?" Spock only tilted his head in response, which pulled a deep laugh from Jim, as he had hoped it would. "Alright then, I'll read the briefing, and then I'll panic, how does that sound?"
Jim's tone was light, and Spock knew the man was joking, but he could not suppress the urge to step forward. "There is no reason to panic, Captain. Regardless of the lack of preparation, there is not a crew in Starfleet that can match the success record of this vessel under your leadership. This mission will be no different."
Something in Jim's expression softened. "What would I do without you, Spock?" he asked with a quiet chuckle. "Thank you. Would you like to join me in looking over the briefing?"
Spock opened his mouth to accept the invitation but closed it when he remembered the current state of his emotional controls. "Thank you, Captain, but I would prefer to meditate for some time before beginning my review."
"Of course, of course. Well, I'll see you in the morning, Spock." Jim declared, an easy smile curving his lips.
"Good night, Captain."
. . .
Meditation did not come easy to Spock. In fact, after forty-two minutes of vain attempts, he rose from his mat and crossed the room to pick up his PADD. Perhaps it would do his mind well to focus on the upcoming mission instead of the way Jim's eyes had looked when they met his during his performance of Le-sumalik Yel.
A small voice in his head told him that there was nothing in the universe so consuming as his ashayam.
The briefing was one hundred and three pages long, as it contained notes on the culture of the Ewlean, the private observations of a three different ambassadors, specific details of the treaty, a summary of the trials they would be participating in, as well as the remarks of the officers who had formerly been preparing to undergo the trials. Spock settled into his chair and adjusted the font of the PADD to something easier for him to read, and began the process of familiarizing himself with the Enterprise's new mission.
He was able to distract himself for precisely two hours, eighteen minutes, and thirty-seven seconds. That was when he finished the briefing, with the thought that he would need to call Doctor McCoy to look over the available information on the drug that would be used himself. His ashayam was allergic to a number of substances and had numerous underlying conditions that could be impacted by a drug such as this.
That thought quickly led to the reminder that Jim was going to be placing himself in danger once again, and there was very little he could do about it. According to the briefing, a more detailed explanation of each trial would be given the day of, and their party would have one standard hour to choose a representative and prepare. Aside from that and a description of the drug, there was very little information available as to the specifics of these trials. However, one of the officers who had been preparing for them had summarized the last time the trials had occurred. All four representatives had survived, but two had suffered broken bones, all had a number of lacerations, and one had required a week of recovery in one of the temples for 'healing of the mind'. And they had all been Ewlean. No outsiders had ever participated in the trials before.
Spock closed his eyes and allowed himself a sigh. Before The Realization, the knowledge that Jim would be putting himself in danger on away missions by virtue of both his position and his disposition was unsettling. Now, it caused a sickening fear to coil in the back of his mind.
It was not an unreasonable worry. Their position was a dangerous one, and the Enterprise was no stranger to death. However, he knew he could not act on it. Even if he and Jim were in a relationship, he would never stop his ashayam from doing what came naturally to him—James Kirk was not to run from danger in any form.
Another sigh fell from his lips, and Spock rubbed his eyes, a human trait he had picked up from his mother when she would work for hours in her garden or read to him until long after the sun had set. He needed to rest, and he had already proven meditation to be an unachievable goal tonight. But the thought of sleeping when there was still so much in his mind...
He was about to stand from his chair to attempt meditation again when his PADD let out a soft beep. A message from Nyota.
'Coffee in the officer's lounge?'
'Nyota, it is 23:17.'
'Tea then.'
'...you desire something from me.'
'No, I don't. I think you might want an ear though.'
'I already possess two of them.' He was being deliberately obtuse now, and rose from his chair to fetch his boots as he waited for Nyota's reply. It would be beneficial to have her insight on the events of the night, and he found himself wanting to escape the confines of his room.
The PADD buzzed as he pulled on his last boot. 'There's a joke I want to make but I won't. What kind of tea would you like? I'm making it from hand, not replicating. I've got jasmine, green, and a fruit blend.'
Spock raised an eyebrow. He was familiar with the joke in question, as Jim had stated several times during his time in Sickbay that doctor McCoy's findings were incomplete, as he had a left ear, a right ear, and a final frontier. Seventy-two percent of the time, that comment earned Jim at least another hour in the good doctor's irritable company.
'Jasmine. Thank you, Nyota. I will be there in approximately two minutes.'
'No problem.'
. . .
Jim rubbed his words on the PADD were starting to swim in front of him, and if he was honest with himself, he couldn't remember what the last four paragraphs he had read had said. Every time he tried to reread the section, though, a dozen or so measures from Spock's performance danced through his head and distracted him again.
He groaned and stood from the chair where he sat. He had relocated from the conference room to one of the observation lounges—stopping by the bridge to relay the new orders to the helm and by his quarters to grab his PADD and a large mug of coffee—and the sight of the stars moving past the window calmed his irritation. He strode the few steps to the window, humming as he did so, and leaned against the glass.
From what he had read about the trials so far, they shouldn't be anything his crew couldn't handle. From the ridiculously limited information available he had assembled a rough away team consisting of Sulu, Uhura, himself, and Spock for the trials of cultivation, artistry, leadership, and negotiation respectively. Scotty could stay and run the ship and Bones would be on-call if anything went wrong with the drugs. Stars he was not looking forward to that.
Since he was fourteen he had had a problem with not being in control of himself. Being on painkillers was disturbing enough, but a drug that would induce hallucinations that would somehow test his leadership? The thought was unnerving to say the least. He hated the idea of asking any of his crew members to undergo that, and he made a mental note to remind both Sulu and Uhura that this was a mission they were free to decline without penalty.
His only comfort was the fact that Spock would be there with him. With the Vulcan's powerful mental and physical abilities, Jim had no doubt that Spock would triumph over whatever trial he was given, and the thought gave him some measure of courage.
He stared out at the stars for a while longer, thinking of the plans that would need to be made and the precautions that could be taken to ensure that this mission was as danger-free as possible. Eventually, though, he pulled himself away, striding over to the replicator in the corner of the room to make a fresh cup of coffee. He was about three-quarters of the way through, now. Another forty-five minutes and he should be done, which would give him enough time to pass out on a couch for a few hours before he had to get up and get ready for the officer's meeting in the morning.
. . .
"You performed remarkably this evening, Nyota," Spock stated as she handed him a mug of jasmine tea. She blushed.
"Thank you. I'm glad that the captain let us put this together. I got a message from him a couple hours ago saying he wanted to do something similar once a month and rotate departments and shifts so that the entire ship has the opportunity to get involved if they want," Nyota said, eyes shining happily. "He also gave approval to let performers wear cultural attire instead of their uniforms."
"It is my understanding that he enjoyed the performances, and he has often expressed a desire to learn about the cultures of those aboard the ship."
"Mmm," she hummed, leaning forward slightly. "There's one performance in particular he enjoyed."
Spock took a sip from his tea. "As I was not a witness to his reactions to all of the performances, I cannot verify that statement."
"You were a witness to the one that mattered."
A sigh fell from his lips, something that seemed to be happening with an increased frequency of late, and he set his mug on the small table between them. He had known what Nyota desired to discuss, and if he truly wished to avoid the topic he would not have agreed to meet her. Still, it was uncomfortable.
"I believe I may have been...excessively emotional this evening," he admitted with a slight frown. "Jim seemed to wish to discuss the performance but chose not to. I am uncertain what to extrapolate from this."
"Has he asked you about what happened on the bridge?"
Spock stiffened in his seat. "He has not."
"He hasn't asked me either, and the ship's logs say he hasn't looked for a translation in the computers. Which means he either didn't notice, noticed and already knows what it means, noticed and thinks he knows what it means, or noticed and is waiting for an explanation."
Spock blinked, shifting his gaze over to Nyota's face. She had one eyebrow raised and was leaning back in her chair, mug held in both hands as she took a slow sip.
"And what about at the concert tonight? What happened?"
"As I stated before, I believe I—"
"No, Spock, what happened between you and the captain? He looked like someone had just hit him over the head with a baseball bat when you finished playing."
Spock blinked again. "I am...uncertain. Le-sumalik Yel is a piece meant to reflect the joy an ancient warrior felt upon returning triumphant from battle to his mate, only to lose his mate a few months later to sickness. It is a piece of great emotion, and I instinctively sought Jim's presence while playing it. It seems he sought mine as well, although I cannot explain why."
Nyota hummed again and took another sip before replying. "Music is a language, Spock, and it's one a lot of people speak instinctively."
"I am aware that you believe Jim and I to be compatible, but that does not change the fact that he has not demonstrated any interest in my person, nor does it change the typical transience of his romantic endeavors." He picked up his mug once again and took a sip, savoring the heat that slipped down his throat as he swallowed. It was a welcome distraction from the way Nyota's eyes seemed to stare into his katra from across the small table.
"You might be surprised, Spock. I still think you should tell him, especially after what happened yesterday, but I won't push you." Spock nodded his thanks. "However, I do have a question for you. You see, Christine and I were talking, and she said that we should visit the arboretum that Sulu's been working on for our next date, but I know what Sulu's doing in there and..."
Both of their mugs had been empty for at least an hour by the time their conversation dwindled down, but Spock found that he did not mind the lateness. His mind was calmer than it had been in two days.
"Thank you for your company, Nyota. I wish you and Ms. Chapel luck in your excursion," Spock said as he stepped out the lounge door.
"No problem, Spock. See you in a few hours."
The door slid closed, and Spock found himself in an empty hallway, his thoughts quiet. Perhaps now he would be able to achieve the meditation he sought.
Le-sumalik Yel translates to 'Frozen Star'