Uneasy anger simmered in the officer's conference room. "Command signed off on this?" Bones had been upset since the meeting started because of the early hour, but now Jim thought he might be close to bursting a blood vessel. "The drug's never been tested on humans before! And who knows how it's going to affect Spock's physiology!"

"Admiral Sheen assured me that it was safe, Bones, and I requested that all the data be sent to you to look over," Jim replied, leaning forward in his seat at the head of the conference table. All his head officers were present, several still blinking sleep from their eyes. "You should get the information by the end of Alpha shift."

Bones grumbled but nodded. "Alright, but I want a medical team on the planet in case of an emergency."

Jim frowned. "I'm not sure that will be possible. The only Federation representatives on the planet are supposed to be those participating in the trials. After a trial is complete, the representative will beam back to the Enterprise. The last person left, the negotiator, signs the treaty."

Bones opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Spock spoke up, his gaze turned to Jim. "Captain, I believe that what the Doctor suggests may be possible," he said, his voice as steady as it always was despite the early hour. "The Ewlean have had a medical team present during the trials in the past. Since we are outsiders, I believe they will allow a small contingent of medical officers to beam down with the official representatives."

"Thank you, Commander. Lieutenant Uhura, confirm that with Command and find out how many medical officers we can bring with us."

"Aye, sir."

Jim turned back to the table as a whole. "Aside from Doctor McCoy's objections, does anyone else have anything they want to address? As it stands, the away team will consist of myself, Commander Spock, Lieutenant Uhura, and Lieutenant Sulu. The Enterprise will be in Scotty's command until we return from the planet."

Around the table, his officers shook their heads. Many still looked hesitant, but Uhura was smiling, and Jim could see the gears turning in Sulu's brain. They still weren't certain what 'cultivation' and 'artistic expression' meant to the Ewlean, but they had both accepted the assignment, boldly going without hesitation.

"Alright then. Everyone, familiarize yourself with the briefing and your role. Alpha shift starts in fifteen minutes. Dismissed."

The officers rose and filed out of the room until it was just him, Spock, and Bones left. The doctor sighed heavily and sat back in his chair, gazing thoughtfully at Jim, who resisted the urge to shift in his seat. He knew what his friend was thinking, and he didn't really want to hear it out loud. Unfortunately, Bones had never been one to keep his thoughts to himself.

"You sure you want to do this, Jim? They're going to give you a powerful hallucinogen and then they'll decide if you fulfill their idea of 'leadership'."

Jim let his shoulders sag slightly. "Actually, Bones, I'm almost positive I don't want to, but you know as well as I do how important it is for the captain of the Federation's flagship to take part in something like this."

Next to him, he felt Spock shift in his seat, and he knew without looking that the Vulcan's eyebrow had crept a few centimeters toward his hairline. That was a conversation Jim definitely didn't want to have right now, so he straightened back up and pushed on saying, "Besides, if you can beam down with me, Bones, what's the worst that could happen? I just hope I don't hallucinate a little line of monkeys following me around everywhere." He plastered on a grin, although he knew Bones wouldn't be fooled.

"You're going to be the death of me one of these days, Jim, I swear," his friend groused. "If I find a single thing in that drug you're even slightly allergic to I'm pulling you out, Captain or not. Got it?"

This time Jim's grin was a little more genuine. "Sir, yes, sir," he said, snapping off a salute.

Bones rolled his eyes and stood from the table as Jim dropped his arm. "I'll let you both know when I get the drug data from Command. I assume you want to look it over, Spock?" From the corner of his eye, Jim saw his first officer nod.

"That would be appreciated, Doctor."

"Mhm." Bones was almost at the door when he stopped and turned back. "Remind Sulu that he needs to get his physical done if he wants to so much as breathe on that planet, much less participate in any of those trials."

"I'll send him down after shift."

Bones nodded and left the room, the door hissing shut behind him. Jim stood from the table, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn. The briefing had ended up taking him thirty minutes longer than he had expected to get through, and he had actually fallen asleep on the couch with his PADD still on. He had almost scared an ensign to death when the sound of the door opening caused him to wake with a start and roll off the couch. All in all, his day was off to a less-than-ideal start, and he was hoping Rand would have the chance to stop by with a fresh cup of coffee during Alpha.

"You look fatigued, Captain."

Spock's voice startled Jim out of his wandering thoughts. He had forgotten the Vulcan was still sitting—no, standing—next to him. "We aren't on duty for another ten minutes, Spock, it's Jim," he declared, turning to his first officer.

The Vulcan's eyebrow rose as Jim had known it would. "Was your rest inadequate?" Spock questioned, his deep voice rumbling over Jim's name.

"Turns out the couches in the observation lounge don't make the greatest beds," he replied with an easy grin, stepping around the table toward the door. "But another cup of coffee and I'll be fine."

The inflection of Spock's voice didn't change, but Jim could hear the doubt as he asked, "Would you prefer to reschedule our chess game this evening?"

Jim chuckled and shook his head. "I haven't rescheduled a game yet, Spock, and I'm not going to now because I missed a couple of hours of sleep," he declared as he made his way to the door, Spock following close behind. "I can't promise that I won't fall asleep in the middle of trouncing you though."

Spock easily fell in stride with him as they made their way down the hallway to the turbolift. "As it is my turn to host, I will have the advantage, Jim. If you are to fall asleep, it will be in the midst of your defeat," he declared, and Jim could have sworn there was a grin pulling at Spock's lips.

A laugh bubbled up from Jim's chest and filled the turbolift. "We'll see about that, Spock," he said, still smiling as the doors slid closed. "Bridge." The lift began to move and a comfortable silence fell between them as they sped toward the bridge.

. . .

Alpha shift was quiet. Now that the Enterprise had changed course to Ewle, they were traveling through space that had been well charted before and there was little that needed Spock's direct attention. Such circumstances often left the bridge crew restless, but today was an exception to that rule.

Sulu and Chekov had been quietly talking about their performances the night before as well as the upcoming mission—the ensign was disappointed that he had not been included on the away team—and Uhura was monitoring communications from Command while reviewing the briefing. Other members of the bridge crew were tending to their stations and moving about as their duties required. And then there was Jim.

Spock had angled himself—unconsciously, although he had not adjusted his position once he had realized what he had done—so that he could see the man from the corner of his eye as he reviewed reports that had been sent to him from various members of the science division. An hour into their shift Yeoman Rand had appeared with a mug—coffee presumably—and a stack of PADDs for the captain, who had accepted both with murmured words of gratitude. The mug had been emptied a scant ten minutes later as Jim worked his way through the PADDs, humming softly to himself.

Now, Jim was staring out the viewscreen, and although Spock could not see the details of the man's face he knew his eyes were vacant. He was likely only a few minutes away from falling asleep in the captain's chair. Part of Spock wanted to relieve the man of his duty so that Jim could sleep in comfort elsewhere, but he knew that Jim would not appreciate such a discussion on the bridge. As Jim's head began to tilt forward, however, Spock decided that he had to do something and so he pulled up the report that he had received from Doctor McCoy half an hour ago about the drug that would be used during the Ewlean trials and crossed the bridge to Jim's chair.

"Captain." The way Jim flinched slightly at the sound of his voice was nearly imperceivable, but Spock felt his concern deepen. His ashayam pushed his mind and body to their limits far too often to be healthy, and although it had yet to truly impact his ability to lead the ship—Jim could be bleeding out and still perform his duties admirably—it was taking a toll on him.

"Don't tell me there's another anomaly putting off more energy than the sun on your sensors, Mister Spock," Jim said with a grin. The words were spoken lightly, but Spock could hear the underlying concern. Another unforeseen encounter was the last thing Jim wanted, he knew.

"No such anomaly has appeared thus far, Captain. However, I have Doctor McCoy's report on the drug that will be used during the trials. It has no Federation Standard translation, but the doctor refers to it as the 'headache cocktail'," Spock replied, handing Jim the PADD. "It appears to be compatible with both human and Vulcanoid physiologies, with the most severe anticipated symptoms being brief nausea and mild cephalgia."

"Thus the 'headache cocktail'," Jim murmured under his breath as he accepted the report. "Thank you, Spock. I'll give the PADD back tonight?"

Spock nodded. "That is acceptable." Jim's attention turned to the device in question and as Spock had no real reason to linger at the captain's side, he strode back to his station.

For the remainder of Alpha shift, Jim pored over the medical report, pausing every half hour or so to check in with the other members of the bridge crew and receive updates. He did not doze off again, although Spock could still read weariness in the line of his shoulders whenever his gaze wandered unthinkingly to his ashayam.

When the Beta shift replacements arrived, Jim lingered only long enough to remind Lieutenant Sulu of his physical—which was met with a low groan from the helmsman and a laugh from Chekov—before slipping off the bridge. Spock stayed longer, receiving an update on the changes that had occurred to the ongoing experiments during the shift.

For a moment, he thought about locating his captain and attempting to persuade Jim to rest now that they were off duty, but he quickly dismissed the idea as futile. Instead, he took the turbolift down to the labs. It would do his mind good to be immersed in the routine of his scientific duties, and they would occupy enough of his attention that his thoughts would not be able to linger on his worry for Jim.

In theory.

. . .

Jim paced around his room, irritation flickering at the edge of his mind. It wasn't directed at anyone or anything, not even the upcoming mission really, just simmering there with only enough shape to be distracting. He should have known falling asleep in the observation lounge was a horrible idea, and not just because of the crick in his neck.

He pushed a sigh from his lungs, and some of the pressure in his chest eased slightly. He was exhausted, but he was also too wired to get any real sleep. All his body would be able to do now is doze, and that would only make it harder for him to sleep tonight. He thought about reviewing the briefing—there was no way he had retained all of it from last night—but he didn't really want to sit at his desk for hours after his time on the bridge.

Maybe going for a run would help. Even if it didn't, it would do the crew to see him up and about.

That thought in mind, Jim crossed to his dresser and pulled out his red workout pants and a grey t-shirt that had his name across the shoulders in blocky letters. He changed quickly and was out his door in no time, nodding to crewmen as he passed them in the halls. Now that he had a destination in mind that didn't involve him sitting still there was a certain spring in his step, and his cheerful greeting to the ensign just outside the gym was barely forced.

After another few moments of debate, Jim decided to take a few laps around the track rather than use the treadmill. He wanted to be moving. He took a few minutes to warm up—he would hear Bones' voice scolding him the entire time if he didn't–and soon he was jogging around the track.

His mind, which had been irritatingly fuzzy ever since his second cup of coffee had worn off hours ago, cleared. Instead of filling with thoughts and worries of the ship though, it focused on the thud of his feet against the floor, the feeling of his heart pumping in his chest, the smell of the recycled air as it filled his lungs. It was wonderful.

Exercise had always been a sort of escape for him, and it calmed him in the same way meditating or praying calmed others. When he was running or working out, the universe seemed to narrow until the only thing that needed his focus was putting one foot in front of the other. In his academy days, the habit had kept him in prime shape and impressed more than a few partners. Now, his body was getting older, and the weight lingered, but he found he didn't mind. He still felt young, especially now as he raced around the track.

Sweat had drenched his shirt by the time he finished—breath coming hard—but the irritation had burned away, and as Jim made his way to the showers he couldn't help but grin.

. . .

"Your move, Mister Spock," Jim said, leaning back in his chair, eyes fixed on the chessboard as he waited for Spock to react to his latest play. They were only twenty minutes or so into their game, too early for there to be any reliable hint as to who would come out on top, and Jim wanted to see how the Vulcan would respond to his ploy.

Playing chess with Spock was interesting. Jim was never one to back down from an intellectual challenge, and he had graduated at the top of a number of science classes. There were times, however, when he couldn't take another scientific lecture or report on the Enterprise's engines. It was never like that playing chess with Spock. Jim had a feeling he could sit across the board from the Vulcan for days without ever feeling the urge to go for a run or pace around the room.

"I cannot see the logic behind that particular move, Jim," Spock admitted after a long moment. "However, as your previous record has shown, you excel at using such illogic to your acute advantage."

Jim grinned. "It's all part of my charm, Spock. Every captain needs their thing."

Spock didn't reply except to move his knight, sidestepping the trap that Jim had been intending to build. Was that avoidance intentional, though, or incidental? He frowned thoughtfully, fingers drumming against the table. After a minute or two of thinking, he moved one of his pawns forward.

"How are the experiments in the labs going?" he asked, only partially in the hopes of distracting Spock as the Vulcan planned his next move.

"They are proceeding as anticipated. The complimentary research being performed on the Gandhi is expected to conclude in the next nine days," he responded, moving a rook to threaten Jim's knight.

"The data's all being sent to a research base after that, isn't it?" He would have to sacrifice a rook if he wanted to save that knight, assuming Spock would take the bait, but it would be worth it. He nudged the piece forward.

"Indeed. The final stages of the experiment will be completed there. If the hypothesis proves to be correct, the prototype material will be sent to Command."

"And the next generation of starships will have probes that can withstand almost anything."

Spock inclined his head. The fact that he didn't comment on Jim's exaggeration told him that he was trying to determine whether or not to take the bait that Jim had offered with his rook. A few seconds later, there was a black bishop where Jim's knight had been. He cursed softly, causing Spock to arch an eyebrow—he hadn't realized the bishop was in a position to strike.

They fell into silence again, and Jim redoubled his attention on the board, trying to map out all of Spock's potential strategies in his mind. Some days he could do so with a degree of accuracy that always seemed to surprise the Vulcan, but Spock had been playing differently today. He couldn't explain what had changed, but he knew there was something different in the way Spock danced the pieces across the multi-leveled board.

Another half-hour passed, and Jim lost a rook and several pawns. He was trying to find a way out of the trap Spock had built for his remaining knight when the Vulcan spoke, derailing his train of thought.

"During the briefing with Admiral Sheen and at the officers' meeting this morning, you displayed concern and even hesitance regarding the use of the Ewlean drug." The words were a statement rather than a question, and so Jim simply nodded, hoping that they were merely an absent observation on Spock's part.

They weren't.

"Caution is logical in the face of the unknown, however, your reticence is uncharacteristic in a situation such as this," Spock continued, and although Jim kept his gaze trained on the board he could feel Spock's eyes staring into his soul. "Furthermore, Doctor McCoy's inquiries suggest that your aversion is not unexpected."

Neither of those sentences were questions either, but Jim could feel the weight of the unsaid words on the air and squirmed in his seat. After a moment of indecision, he leaned forward, abandoning the game for now, and met Spock's eyes. He didn't want to dance around this for the rest of the match.

"You already know I was on Tarsus IV—" Jim's mind flashed to a scene not dissimilar to their positions now, although they had been sitting in his room that night— "and you know I saw some pretty horrible things there." Spock nodded once, eyes somber. "Well, a few weeks after the famine began, just when everything was beginning to get bad and people were first starting to die of starvation, a man started claiming he had a drug that could make all of our pain disappear.

"I only tried the shot once. When I came down from whatever high I had been in, I was lying in a room full of people sitting in their own sick, all wearing the same blissed-out smile." He swallowed, forcing back the bile that rose in his throat. The room had been cramped and dark and dank and heavy with desperation, and he could feel it all pressing down on his shoulders. "Just the one hit left people heaving up their guts after they came down, and it ended up quickening their starvation."

Spock's eyes shone with pain. "Forgive me, Jim. It was not my intention to rouse such painful memories."

Jim shook his head. "Apologies are illogical, remember? Don't worry about it," he assured, moving a pawn forward in a blind attempt to turn his friend's piercing gaze elsewhere. "I just like to be in control of myself is all. I looked over the report you gave me, and there's nothing in the Ewlean drug that should have any of the same effects. I'll be fine." He was convincing himself as much as Spock—he had tried to avoid thinking too long about the details of the trials so far—but he pushed on anyway. "Don't worry about it."

It was Spock's turn to shift his gaze to the chessboard. He was silent so long Jim thought he had decided to drop the topic and return to the game, but then he looked up once more, something undefinable swimming in his eyes.

"That is a desire I can understand, Jim," he said, voice hardly more than a whisper. "I do not know if I can offer you any comfort, but I will remain by your side."

Jim blinked, something in his chest tightening at the barefaced honesty in his friend's voice. "Thank you, Spock." Spock held his gaze for an eternity and a heartbeat before nodding once and moving his queen forward to seize Jim's knight.

An hour later, Jim was laying on the bed in his own room. He had lost the game, and yet as he turned on his side and burrowed into his pillow, his mind replayed Spock's words—the melody of the Vulcan's song providing a soundtrack to the promise—and he felt as if he had won anyway.