Episode: The Trouble with Tribbles
"I believe, gentlemen," and the word is fairly dripping with sarcasm, "that my orders were to get every. Last. One. Of these…creatures, off my ship."
Captain James Tiberius Kirk, in full ranting mode, spins on his heel in front of his seated subordinates, hands fisted on his hips. Eyes flashing, he stares down his First Officer, who naturally shows no outward reaction. "Imagine my feelings, then, when after breaking orbit from Starbase K-7 I discover that two of my commanding officers have blatantly disregarded that order."
Scotty looks slightly suicidal, but begins to raise his hand, three fingers in the air. A sharp elbow from McCoy stops him, aborts the action before the captain can see.
"Three of my commanding officers," Kirk amends sharply, and McCoy gives up, because the captain has almost Vulcan-like senses after a couple years in Spock's company. "Gentlemen, I do believe my orders were quite clear. What have you to say for yourselves?"
"Well, first of all, Captain, the poor thing's been kept on a strict diet and it hasn't reproduced in the week it's been aboard," McCoy begins, in that placating tone that he occasionally adopts in an effort to keep stubborn patients in Sickbay without physically sedating them.
"I fail to see how that is grounds for clear insubordination, Doctor McCoy," is the cold retort, and he winces, knowing from the tone that it is The Captain speaking and Jim is nowhere to be found right now.
"We found it only after we'd left orbit, sir," Scotty, bless his heart, attempts to reason with their irate commander, with little effect. "We couldnae just put it down like a – like a puir rabid dog or something, sir!"
"So instead of informing me of its discovery, you instead decided to take it upon yourselves – all three of you – to keep it as a pet without my knowledge?" Scott winces at the tone, and shakes his head silently; it's wiser to just shut up in these situations and let the captain's rant run its course.
"Jim, don't you think you're overreacting just a little bit?" McCoy ventures calmly.
Kirk whirls his direction, eyes flashing. "Doctor, within twenty-four hours just one tribble had crippled this constitution-class starship to the point of threatening our food supply and every vital system aboard. Had we been in deep space instead of orbiting a space station, every person on this ship would have been in serious danger of starvation, because the amount of tribbles invading our engine room would have shut us down and left us drifting without the ability to call for help! Does that sound like an overreaction to you, Lieutenant-Commander?"
Oh, geez, he's pulling out the ranking titles now; sure indications that a tantrum of epic proportions is probably on its way. McCoy sighs and mentally hunkers down to wait it out.
"The captain is quite correct, gentlemen. Should the animal escape its confines, it could in theory pose a serious danger to the workings of this ship, however unintentional its actions would be." Spock's trying to get himself firmly back on Jim's side, and McCoy hates him for it, because he's so danged good at it it's really almost sickening.
But not this time, apparently; Jim is worked up good and angry, and even Spock's admitting to being in the wrong isn't having much effect. McCoy can't help but feel a little bit meanly glad that the hobgoblin isn't getting off scot-free this time; Lord knows the pointy-eared menace has already mutinied and stolen the ship itself and got no more than a slap on the wrist for it. Bad for morale, this knowing Spock can get away with murder because he's the captain's favorite and nobody does puppy-eyes like a Vulcan, however weirdly adorable that might be.
"And if your logic recognizes this fact, Commander, then why did you not inform me of the existence of this potential danger to my ship?" The words are sparks, crackling with energy as they are fired rapidly at their First Officer, who has just unwisely drawn the attention to himself. "You are aware, that such a lack of action constitutes professional negligence and is grounds for Starfleet reprimand?"
Spock only blinks placidly back at his angry captain, eyes wide and dark and oh-so-innocent. "I am aware, sir."
"Now look, captain, Mr. Spock wasnae even the one who found the puir thing, an' he did say we should tell ye it was hidin' in the intermix chamber –"
"Scotty, just shut up," McCoy mutters under his breath, because the loyal engineer's just going to pour petrol on that fire.
The stupid little animals are a sore spot with Jim now, because they embarrassed him more than once both aboard ship and on the space station, and if the captain has one fault it's his ridiculous pride in his captain-image. McCoy will never forget the sight of Kirk woefully buried up to the neck in tribbles, and he knows that however expressionless Spock might have been at the time, the Vulcan was fairly twitching with amusement by the time they'd dug out their longsuffering captain.
But the whole incident, plus the very real danger to the ship, have blown the menace of the furry pests way out of proportion now, and they really should have known better. Despite the impossibility of the creature's reproduction if it's not allowed unlimited access to food, the potential for disaster is still there, and they should have told the captain of the tribble's existence.
And, however much he and Scotty might privately poke fun at Spock and his stuck-up Vulcanity, neither of them's going to throw the poor Vulcan under the shuttlecraft and point out that neither of them is really that enamored with the purring little furball.
While he's been trying to keep Scotty from making the whole thing worse than it really is because nobody can get through to Captain-Kirk-on-a-rampage except Spock, Jim has turned his full attention on his First Officer. Spock, standing now to properly counter the captain's chastisement, weathers the explosion with true Vulcan patience, only nodding when appropriate and interjecting some random calm logical comment when he can.
Finally Kirk winds down, ending up toe-to-toe with his First, arms folded over his chest and scowling up at the taller man.
"In other words – you kept it because you like it, Mr. Spock," he states flatly.
Spock somehow manages to look highly affronted using only his eyebrows.
"To destroy a life form simply because of the potential danger it might possibly cause unsupervised is nothing less than a moral crime, Captain. You know this as well as I."
"And you also know he's a sucker for fuzzy animals, Captain," McCoy drawls, happy at this point to just sit back and watch the fireworks, since the attention has been diverted from him and their unfortunate Chief Engineer, who got reluctantly roped into the whole thing through some artful blackmail on McCoy's part.
If looks could kill, Spock would have incinerated him on the spot; as it stands, however, he only grins angelically up at his two commanding officers, both now equally ticked-off at him.
After a brief staring match, Kirk turns back to his First Officer, and his voice softens just slightly. "You really want one, don't you."
Spock of course says nothing to incriminate himself either way, merely reiterating that load of baloney about moral crimes and innocent animal life forms, etc., etc.
"Did I just hear you say it's illogical 'to harm a sentient life form which is aesthetically and auditorally pleasing'?" Kirk finally interrupts, eyebrows nearly vanished into his hairline.
Spock's ear-tips suddenly turn an odd shade of jade.
The captain's lips twitch suspiciously, and he finally holds up a placating hand as Spock launches into yet another long-winded explanation of their actions. "You know what, fine," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a headache. "But I swear, Spock, if I find so much as a hair of that…thing, on my Bridge, or anywhere else in my ship, I will have it out the nearest airlock without any deliberation. Is that clear, gentlemen?"
He receives three identically silent nods, and finally sweeps from the room in dramatic disgust, muttering under his breath about insubordination in the command chain, etc., etc.
Thankful silence falls.
"Ah believe ye owe me five credits, Doctor," Scotty burrs cheerfully in his ear. "Told y'so."
"And I believe both of you owe me three hours of detailed inspection duty for my…efforts, in this incident, gentlemen. My departmental staff will be contacting you shortly to schedule these inspection tours."
McCoy groans, head in his hands. He's sold his soul to a Vulcan, God help him.