A/N: Another big THANK YOU!! to mrstater for her beta-reading and her suggestions. I've got no idea how many parts this is going to be, but I'm really enjoying writing Nyota's last few months at Starfleet with Gaila and Kirk and McCoy. And, of course, with Spock. I'm expanding the cast a little bit in the next part; I've decided I really like writing the women of Star Trek too. Hope you enjoy!
Part Seven: From the Beginning
"I hate to bother you, but Commander Kyle demanded the reports today, and I can't go into his office empty-handed."
Nyota's voice is louder than it normal, but not due to anger or frustration. She matches Spock's long, elegant strides as they round the corner and head toward his office. She forces the air out of her lungs as she moves, causing the volume of her voice to increase.
There are other cadets around them, and using Commander Kyle as an excuse to see Spock for something as innocent as transmission quality reports would stifle any gossip floating around about them. Because Nyota knows that the cadets talk, and Gaila warns her often about who is saying what about her and Spock these days.
Gaila then threatens to kick all their asses; she also plots with Nyota their revenge on the Starfleet scuttlebutt network.
"No, Cadet Uhura," he says dispassionately, holding his tablet behind his back, "you should not return to Commander Kyle with nothing. I have the reports he requested in my office." Spock touches the pad next to the entrance and the door slides open. "Come inside." He stands back and allows her to enter first. Nyota walks into the dim room. She hears a slide and the beep of the door shutting behind her. There is a click as the entrance's lock is engaged. His office is still dim, as the windows are shaded and practically opaque.
"Computer, decrease window opacity by fifty-five-point-seven percent."
Upon Spock's command, the windows lighten to allow a small amount of sunlight to enter the room.
Turning around, Nyota lets out a breath. "Good morning, Spock." She smiles; she can feel herself aglow.
Spock walks toward her, his lip drawn to the right side of his face, almost — almost — as if he was grinning. "Would I be accurate in my assumptions that Commander Kyle did not request any reports, and this was an excuse employed so that we may see each other, albeit briefly, this morning?"
She approaches him, her smile now easing into a gentle smirk. "Actually, he was demanding them yesterday." She laughs as he arches his eyebrow. "But I didn't mind asking you for them myself."
His face is relaxed as he replies. "I have no objections to your methods, Nyota. To see you this morning after having no formal plans to see you so soon after our dinner is quite satisfying."
"You didn't think you'd see me today?"
"I had expected our paths to cross at some point. When they did, I was planning to inquire whether you had any interest in viewing the exhibit of ancient Vulcan artifacts on display at the Institute. That is, if you have not viewed them yet?"
Nyota does not tell Spock that she drug a protesting Gaila to the exhibit after it was installed last year. Instead, she maintains her casual demeanor, nods and says, "I'd love to go. Were you thinking about this weekend?"
"I was. We can discuss the details at a later time."
"Don't forget," she says, practically standing underneath him, still smiling at him, "I still want to learn about the Vulcan lute. I never had any idea that you were musically inclined. You can teach me how to play."
"It is not common practice to teach humans how to play our instruments."
Nyota has to stifle a laugh; she does not think Spock quite understands "double entendres." She also quietly curses Gaila for corrupting her mind so thoroughly. She keeps her voice as innocent as possible. "But you could still show me how you play it, can't you?"
He nods once. "Of course. I only meant that such training is not orthodox in our culture. However, exceptions can be made."
Spock leans in, ever so subtly, toward her.
"May I kiss you again, Spock?"
"You ask for my permission now? You did not require it Saturday night."
She laughs a little bit, averting her eyes to the ground. "I just had to go for it then, you know?" Nyota clears her throat. "I imagine that you wish it had gone a bit differently, that I should've asked for your permission."
She is startled when he wraps his hand around her arm. His touch is firm, but gentle. "I have no such wish. For me, it was—"
"Satisfactory?" It seems to be his favorite word when something pleases him.
"Quite pleasurable." His hand slowly moves up until it touches her face, much as she did Saturday night. "If I have any regrets, it is that I did not do more to demonstrate my regard for you, or to initiate more personal, more intimate contact."
She sighs as she feels the warm comfort of his touch again. "The fact that you didn't run and we talked about it afterwards confirmed that that you enjoyed it."
He leans forward another inch, his hand still cupping her cheek. "Still. Vulcans do not engage in demonstrations of emotions. It is something you may find different, even unpleasant, compared to your interactions with human males." For the briefest second, Spock's eyes appear dark, troubled. After a breath, the darkness clears. "I will understand if this deters you from continuing to seek out my company."
Nyota reaches up and touches his lips with her fingers. "I like you, Spock. I want your company. And I think you should kiss me now."
With that, he complies.
Gaila wiggles her eyebrows when Nyota fills her in.
"Hm… it seems as if you've got Mr. Sexy Smarty Pants—"
This earns a smack from Nyota.
"Ow! Wrapped around your finger."
"Would you keep it down, Gaila?" Nyota asks chidingly. "We're out in public."
"Fine! Remember, I wasn't the one who brought up the commander in the first place."
Nyota knows she is right. They are walking toward the mess hall, and she could not wait to tell Gaila about that morning.
It is rather like playing with fire, Nyota thinks as she takes a tray and listens to Gaila gab about all things male-related… "After all, I've got no idea how long it's been since your last relationship. You should be thankful that you can benefit from my expertise."
"Gaila, if there is one thing I'm certain your expertise won't cover, it's being in a relationship with a Vulcan."
However, her roommate ignores her and plows forward with her speech as she tears into a roll. Despite her chatty, ostentatious manner, Nyota knows Gaila is trustworthy. Mostly. At least, she is trustworthy with the things Nyota tells her. Having a female Orion roommate for these past three years, despite their divergent personalities, has proved to be particularly fortunate when she needed a confidante about her feelings for Spock. Orion women share intensely strong familial and peer-based bonds with one another; they view males as the weaker sex, valuable mostly for sexual and procreative needs. Being away from her home world for so long, and being virtually the only Orion woman in the Academy, Gaila found herself in dire need of a female companion. She needed to forge a sisterhood with another peer, or else suffer the next few years. After some stumbling blocks, she found that sisterhood with Nyota, and Nyota realized the feeling was mutual.
When Nyota finally confessed her attraction to the Vulcan commander to her roommate, Gaila vowed to take the secret to her grave, although the Orion stopped short from promising to not tease her about it.
In the middle of Gaila's vulgar explanation about various techniques that an Orion woman can do to her mate with both her tongue and her fingers, Nyota spies Cadet Luke Aldren at another table. He is pointing at her as he talks to his friends, the sneer on his face telling her that the topic is about her, and it is unpleasant.
She leans forward. "Do you have a problem, Aldren?"
Gaila stops talking and eyes Nyota and the other cadet. Aldren smirks. "Nope," he drawls. "No problems, although we're surprised to see you here without your pointy-eared boyfriend."
Nyota clenches her teeth, but she feels her heart accelerate. Normally, she gets along fine with Aldren, save for the usual, healthy academic competition. Lately, though, he has been copping an attitude with her. She and Gaila both suspected that it must stem from some professional jealousy, blaming it on whatever relationship he thinks she has with Commander Spock. Regardless of whether or not it is true.
Nyota can barely stand to look at him at the moment; his nasty smile makes her want to flick her spoon into his face.
"My boyfriend?" she hisses.
"Yeah. You know who I'm talking about."
She suspects he cannot and will not say Spock's name, in case he believes he is wrong. But he can spread innuendo and accusations that Nyota is earning her successes to a close relationship with the commander rather than on her own merits.
For all of her late nights, her long weekends spent in the language labs and in the Academy's libraries studying to get to the top of her class, Nyota wants to rip his head off and shove it right up his—
He stands up at his table, his friends watching him and looking at Nyota with smug anger. Leaning forward on his fists, he aims his words right at her. "I'm just wondering why you keep getting all the jobs in the department. We're all wondering that."
"Gaila," she says, poking at her friend, "let's go." However, Gaila's attention is focused on her PADD, and not on the two arguing cadets. Aldren continues blathering away.
"How are we supposed to compete with you, Uhura? When we're not sleeping our way up the Starfleet ladder."
Oh, it's on!
Nyota stomps over to Aldren. She knows if she protests too much, it could raise suspicions about her and Spock, but his slander is far too much to bear.
She gets up in his face. "You've got something to say to me, Aldren? Say it! But if you're going to throw accusations in my face, then you'd better be able to back them up." She presses her face closer to his, staring at him with a furious glare. "Or are you just pissed that I'm better than you are in practically every xenolinguistics class that we've taken together? That I got the gold rating at the Oxford Linguistics Invitational, and you came away with the bronze?"
The other cadets all stop eating and stare at the showdown. There are a few personnel watching; Spock is, thankfully, not among them. Before Aldren can respond, an arm goes around his shoulders — and hers as well. Nyota stares into the face of her friend.
"Now, now," Gaila says, giving them both a shake, "can't you two crazy kids learn to get along?"
"I have a very hard time staying quiet when my intelligence is called into question, Gaila."
"Come on, Nyota," Gaila replies exaggeratedly. "Cut Aldren some slack. After all—" She turns a pair of sharp eyes onto him. "Some men can't help it."
Aldren raises his eyebrow. "Help what?"
Gaila brings her arm up over Nyota's head and faces the other cadet with fluttering eyes and a saucy grin. "That certain inadequacies in one area bleed into another."
"B-b-but… I-I… I don't—"
"Luke, it's okay. I don't believe all of the rumors from the men's locker room about you! Some, sure, but not all."
Nyota plays along and feigns ignorance, but her brow is still lowered in anger. "But Gaila, whatever do you mean?"
Gaila hums and moves her finger down through the air. "Ping! Ping! PING!" Her sound effects are slow, precise, and her finger points right at Aldren's crotch.
"Tricorder readings set to... miniscule!"
His friends, and the surrounding tables, snicker at him and Nyota howls in laughter.
"Not that we've ever done anything before." Gaila continues. "I do have some standards you know. I do have to consider appearance, temperament…. size." She flashes a slightly smug, mostly triumphant grin at a red-faced, spluttering Aldren.
"I've… I've never! We've never! That's none of your business!"
Suddenly, the Orion shoves her PADD into Aldren's face. "Maybe next time you want to cut down someone's intellect, you'll pick someone who's actually worse than you in your classes. See this?" Her finger points at his name and his rank in the department. "Your name is below Nyota's. Not above hers. Be-low! She's scored higher than you for the past two years now, and yet, you somehow think that she doesn't deserve her two aideships?" Gaila snorts. "Men! And as her roommate, I can tell you that she spends all her time studying, not ordering the latest off-planet fad guaranteed to — 'increase – your – size!'" She makes sure to emphasize, rather loudly, the last three words, and the cadets nearest them erupt in laughter and scattered applause. Gaila continues to stare at Aldren as she grabs Nyota's arm, shoves the PADD back into her bag and in a swift motion, lifts both hers and Nyota's bags off the floor.
Once they leave the Mess Hall, she lets go of Nyota's arm.
"The nerve of—!" Nyota glares back at the hall.
Gaila shakes her head; she is clearly angry about the confrontation. "Stupid – patriarchal – society! Men thinking they're so freaking entitled to everything and can't handle a woman doing better than them? And Aldren of all people! I can't believe he went there! Pfft!"
"By the way, how did you get that information? About our grades? And get it so quickly?"
Gaila hooks her arms around Nyota's. "A computer genius does not reveal her secrets. Besides, you mess with my Nyota, you're gonna get hurt!" The reply leaves Nyota speechless, but she and Gaila smile all the way until they are outside.
They walk from the Federation's Institute of Multi-Planetary History and Sciences. Spock verbalizes his approval of newly installed Vulcan exhibition. And, indeed, the collection was impressive, in its scope of capturing Vulcan history and in its logical presentation of the artifacts as a testament to the evolution of the species from the proto-Awakening era to the post-Awakening period to the present.
Nyota, however, remains distracted. Aldren's insults from earlier in the week continue to haunt her, and she cannot stop thinking about what the other cadets might be saying behind their backs. The day is still bright, and they walk past bright green trees and green grass. The sidewalks are moderately busy, and had Nyota's head been entirely in the present, she would have noticed more than a few people giving them odd looks, as they walked.
As Spock discusses his observations of the artifacts, Nyota smiles politely. She nods and agrees with him, but her mind is unfocused and stuck on a single, persistent thought, as if a message or transmission caught in a loop.
"I sense that something troubles you, Nyota."
"Oh… sorry," she says, shaking her head. "I guess I've been a bit sidetracked."
Spock places his hand on her back and gently guides her to a nearby bench. "There are a number of options available to relieve your anxieties. I would not impose any one of them upon you, but I shall remain present and assist with anything you deem necessary."
She blinks at him, surprised, but she does not protest as she takes a seat. Mulling over his words, she smiles. She cannot believe that she can be so charmed by his reasoning, and even his tone, although there is no emotion registering in his voice. However, he so much as admits that he will stay here for whatever she may need.
Nyota takes a breath. She does not know how Spock will react to what has been on her mind, but since it involves him, she might as well tell him. "Earlier this week, I had a run-in with another cadet, in the mess hall. Basically, the little—" She bites her tongue, stopping herself from calling Aldren a "bastard". "Basically, he insulted my intelligence. He insinuated," she says, practically spitting out the word, "that I did not properly earn my aideships."
Spock nods. "I see."
"I would've smacked him, but Gaila helped me set the record straight."
His eyebrow suddenly flies up, indicating surprise. "Did she? Fascinating."
Nyota chuckles ruefully. "No one should ever underestimate her computer skills. Ever. She knows how to get any information you ask for. Any at all."
Spock nods once. "I am aware that it was Cadet Aldren, and I am further aware of his statements toward you."
She gapes at him. "You are?"
"Commander Sun approached me after the confrontation and divulged the substance of Aldren's protests. That he accused you of inappropriate behavior with an unnamed professor — although there was enough information to conjecture that the cadet was referring to me — in order to gain an advantage in the Academy."
Her nostrils flare. "It sounds even worse coming from you without all the terrible innuendo." Nyota feels her frustration keenly.
"There is no method by which one can rationally temper such sentiments. Only by stating them directly can one confront the accusation and defend against it."
"But that's not going to be the end of it, Spock. You can show them all the proof in the world that they're wrong, but they'll just keep coming back with more and more, and distract and annoy. It's likely that the more he keeps saying anything, the greater the chance we'll get into trouble. You'll get into trouble."
"I can assure you that, in accordance to the relevant Starfleet Codes, we have done nothing wrong." There is no indication that he feels nervous or apprehensive or bothered. There is no indication that he feels anything at all. "The acknowledgment of our mutual preference for one another occurred after you ceased working for me. Furthermore, I only had your qualifications, your academic record, and your references in mind when I requested you to be my aide. You were the only candidate to find the error in my report. You successfully completed each step of the application process on your own merits. Therefore, you were not advanced because of any personal inclination that may or may not have existed on my part during that time."
She gazes at him shiftily, as if she is suspicious of him, but a teasing smile plays across her lips. "You are being honest with me, Spock?"
He bows his head. "I cannot lie. I can only speak the truth. Your intelligence and your hard work have taken you far in the Academy." Spock blinks once. "I will admit that both qualities have strengthened my personal appreciation of you."
Nyota's face flushes, but she smiles broadly. "It's nice to be appreciated for my mind."
Spock's face remains composed and emotionless and he says nothing in reply. This does not faze her, because his admission — that her intelligence attracts him — is far more than any Vulcan would normally admit. The ensuing silence gives her an opportunity to consider things. Her brow creases as she says what is still bothering her.
"Unfortunately, it's not going to go away. Honestly, people will think whatever they want to think, and say whatever they want to say. I don't know if they really care that you only ever considered my actual qualifications. If they think you and I have some special relationship with each other, then that's what they'll go with."
He nods twice before he says anything further. "There is one true solution to this problem."
"And that is—"
"That we do not see each other anymore outside of the Academy."
Nyota freezes, her eyes narrow. "You want to end this before we even get started?"
"It would ensure that I would not be accused of favoritism and—"
She shakes her head before he can finish.
"And your peers would not accuse you of achieving your goals through any means other than your own merits."
"No." Her decisive tone surprises her; Spock raises his eyebrow in response. "Forget it. Whatever this is between us, I like it. I like you, despite the fact that the Academy discourages relationships between cadets and instructors." She stares at him with a determination that no shield could withstand. "I tried to follow the rules, but I kissed you first. And then you kissed me back. So the way I see it, neither of us could abide by the ethical code, could we?"
"Apparently not." She does not miss the corner of his mouth barely twitch. Spock faces her, his hands covering his knees. "There may be another alternative."
"I'd love to hear any solution that doesn't involve us not seeing each other."
"We could approach the Academy's council and disclose our relationship to them. This would mitigate any future damage to either of our reputations should further questions arise."
Nyota cannot hide her doubt. Telling the council about her and Spock seems fraught with peril for both of them. They might ask a ton of questions and maybe even prevent her from being selected for the Enterprise.
"Um… I don't know. That could backfire big time, couldn't it?"
"In situations like this, honesty may be the most effective option to neutralize the effect of an intentional and malicious disclosure other cadets or Academy personnel may attempt."
She grimaces. "Spock, it seems—" Her eyes meet his.
"It seems what, Nyota?"
She bites the inside of her cheek. "It seems like we're asking for the Academy to punish us. They could still choose dismissal because we decided to hell with the rules."
Spock's eyes scan the area around them, even while his face remains as blank as empty canvas. He does not scoot closer, but he leans forward, his back still straight, his gaze direct and penetrating. "I am working under the assumption," he says, his voice low and steady, "that they will not do anything more than lecture us on the positives and negatives of cadet-instructor relationships." Spock speaks with a faint smoothness to it. His voice comforts her, more so than even his normal, composed tone. Nyota realizes he uses it more and more in their interactions away from the Academy. It is the tone he reserves for his more private moments.
The realization makes her feel quite warm and very comforted.
"That's a big assumption."
"And I will remind the council that you are no longer my student or my aide. According to the most literal interpretation of the Starfleet Code of Ethical Conduct, a relationship between a cadet and an instructor is not precluded if that relationship occurs after the cadet leaves the instructor's tutelage and training."
She straightens her back and eyes him with dubious amusement. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you?"
"I am thorough in my research, Nyota."
This time, she arches her eyebrow at him, more playfully than anything else. "Maybe you are onto something. Perhaps we can disclose to the council that we are in a relationship and there wouldn't be any retaliation." She feels warm at the thought. If they tried it, if they informed the higher-ups and they practiced discretion, it could eliminate the harmful effects if someone else ratted them out.
"If you do not agree, we do not have to tell them."
Her mouth opens, and for three seconds, she does not speak. She thinks through the other alternatives, none of which strike her as better than divulging the information to the council themselves.
Making her decision, Nyota closes her mouth and looks around them. Once assured that no one who should not see them together is around, she leans forward and places a gentle kiss on his lips.
Spock's face does not move, nor does it change. But his own lips respond to the contact, and Nyota feels that same uplifting swell, that wave of emotion extending beyond him, beyond her, meeting somewhere in the middle. It is the weirdest thing she has ever experienced…
And yet, it is somehow wonderful too.
She breaks the kiss first, but she still leans forward, smiling coyly, her eyes lingering on his face, his lips, his eyes and brow and ears.
"Spock, you can put me down for a 'yes, I agree.'"
"A 'yes, I agree?'" he repeats.
"Mm-hm. To telling the council. Or do you need my answer again?"
"There is a chance I did not understand it the first time. Perhaps further clarification is required."
"Hm… indeed." She mumbles the words softly against his lips.
She walks across campus, her mind distracted. Her attention is torn between recounting the procedures for some new noise control techniques being beaten into her brain by Douglas Kyle, and the meeting with the council to disclose her relationship with Spock, arranged at the commander's request.
Nyota has no idea what to expect from the discussions with the council. She has practiced what she should say with Gaila, usually taking the opposite advice from whatever Gaila offered. Which was, of course, rather inappropriate.
She strides across the campus, walking across the well-trodden path between her and Gaila's apartment and the DeGrasse Tyson Building, the location of the Academy's library. She pushes past dawdling groups on the sidewalk, absent-mindedly waving at other cadets sitting in the grass. She walks past the large statue of Dr. Zefram Cochrane and the Vulcan Sorik which commemorates first contact, and she is just about to approach the building, when—
"Nyota!"
Her foot stops on the bottom step. She turns and sees Leonard McCoy running toward her. As he reaches her, he holds up his finger and lowers his head to catch his breath.
"McCoy? Are you all right?"
He takes a few more deep breaths and lifts his head up, swallowing as he does so. "H-have… you seen… J-Jim?"
Her forehead creases. "Jim Kirk?" McCoy nods. Her eyes shift to the right. "No, I haven't seen him recently."
He hits his leg so hard Nyota can hear the smack. "Dammit!"
"Is something wrong? McCoy, did something happen?" Nyota is surprised to hear worry in her own voice.
"Jim hasn't been himself since the damn Kobayashi Maru," Bones admits, shaking his head. "He hasn't been sleeping well. His eating habits are shit, and he's been drinking a lot more. I don't even think he came back to our apartment last night."
Nyota clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I don't really see how any of this is different than before."
Bones looks at her with dark eyes. "Well, he's drinking alone in the apartment and I usually know when he's been with a girl — or a female humanoid."
She finds this hard to believe. "How would you know, unless he's with them in your room?" He flashes her a knowing expression. "Ew!" she exclaims with a squeak.
"Yeah. And, unfortunately, Jim's got a big mouth too. He likes to talk." McCoy rolls his eyes. "And describe. Jackass." He nods toward the library. "You going in?"
"Yeah. Come on. We can talk more inside."
McCoy walks next to her as they enter the enormous, rotund lobby. There is a model of the Milky Way, hovering in the middle, suspended by state-of-the-art levitation hydraulics. They walk around it and continue across the floor, with its mosaic representation of the Sol System. They pass the walls, filled with the names of space missions and crews from the 1960s to the present day.
"I don't know, Nyota," he says, his tone defeated. "I've known and lived with him for two years now, and I've never seen him like this. He's a wreck. A total wreck!"
She shakes her head. "But he knows that the simulation is the hardest one at Starfleet. I have a friend who works the programming, and she says that no one's passed it in at least four years."
The right side of Bones' face scrunches together. "Well, I think he's taking it personal."
Nyota stares at him, utterly confused. "Personal?"
"He hasn't really talked to me about it." McCoy holds open the door leading into the main floor of the massive library, "but I think it has something to do with his father."
This admission surprises Nyota. She knows full well the story of George Kirk and the USS Kelvin. She knows she takes for granted that that man is James T. Kirk's father; it is often hard to reconcile that someone so damn arrogant could be the son of a true hero.
"Why would he even make that connection?" She walks through the doorway, turning around to talk to Bones. "The Kobayashi Maru preceded the Kelvin by almost a decade."
"It's just me doing a little armchair psychology, but look at the similarities, the details of the scenario." He ticks off each point. "An impossible circumstance, an unbeatable enemy, a life-or-death decision to make." He lets the door shut behind him, dropping his voice to barely a whisper. "It could've hit him in a really weird place. I heard him mentioning the Kelvin shortly after the test. I thought he was thinking about some maneuver or strategy or something. But maybe there's more to it than that."
"You think it's about George Kirk?"
McCoy sighs. He rubs his eyes; it is clear that he is tired and fatigued, but he cannot until he knows his friend and roommate is alright. "I don't know for sure, but he's real close to losing it."
Before she can reply, a voice at the library's front desk draws both their attentions. It takes only a few seconds, but Nyota realizes that the voice belongs to Jim Kirk. And he is shouting.
"It's just a damn dissertation! All I want to do is check the thing out."
Nyota and McCoy look at each other, distressed, and they run over to see what is wrong.
"And we have a policy in the library, Cadet Kirk; dissertations are non-circulating reference materials—"
Kirk slaps his palm flat on the counter. He points a finger at the cover of the book. "Excuse me, but in case you're illiterate, those words, right there? U – S – S – Kelvin. As in the ship my – father – LOST – HIS – LIFE - ON!" He aims a furious glare back at the librarian. "And the ship I – WAS – BORN – ON!!"
"Oh no," McCoy mutters. Nyota and he move closer.
"I'm James Kirk. George Kirk's freakin' son! You realize that he's a major part of Captain Pike's dissertation, don't you? You realize that without him, there wouldn't be any Captain Pike dissertation!"
"Jim—"
"Bones!" Kirk exclaims, shrugging the doctor's hand off of him. "These idiots don't even know who the hell I am."
McCoy grimaces, trying to figure out how to handle his friend. Kirk does not realize Nyota is with him; for the first time since the simulation, she can see large, grey bags under his eyes, and a couple of fresh bruises on his face, including one bandage on his brow.
He looks like hell.
McCoy subtly gestures for her to stand beside Kirk; she does so without drawing his notice. Kirk continues to babble on about needing to look at the dissertation, a manual—
"Anything! The Kobayashi Maru's been around long enough for someone to have written about it, right?"
"Jim, you're in a library, and you're causing a scene." Bones tries to calm him down, but his attempts have no affect on Kirk.
"You know the Kobayashi Maru is bullshit!" A number of students, absorbed deep in their books and computers, look up at the cadet's exclamation. "My own dad saved 800 people's lives that day, and you're telling me, George's Kirk's son, that I can't make it out of a stupid simulation alive? Come on, Bones."
Nyota grabs his arm, wanting him to shut up before security escorts him out. "Jim, look," Nyota says gently, but urgently, "you're working yourself into a state. You need to rest."
"No, I don't need to rest. And what the hell are you doing here?" He tears his arm away from her.
"I'm here helping McCoy find you. He was worried, and asked me if I've seen—"
She does not even see McCoy whip out the hypospray behind Jim's back. In a couple of quick, graceless moves, the doctor jabs the device against Kirk's neck and pulls the trigger. There is a puff as Bones injects his friend.
Nyota gasps as Jim slaps at his neck. He stares disbelievingly at him.
"Bones! What the hell didja—"
The cadet stops talking and his face sags. He falls like a noodle into McCoy's arms. The doctor swings one of Kirk's arms around his head, and nods at Nyota to get his other side. McCoy looks up with a smile, albeit nervous and shaky, at the librarian, who is staring at the scene, startled. "Heh, looks like the late nights finally caught up to him. He just wore himself out. We'll take him back to his room." He winks at her incredulous expression and he turns to Nyota. "Help me."
"What the hell did you give him?" she asks while trying to balance the unconscious Kirk between herself and McCoy, and pulling his deadweight body toward the entrance leading out into the spacious lobby.
"A light sedative. Nothing harmful. At least, nothing near as harmful as those two would've been," McCoy says, nodding at the two burly security officers who were coming over to check on the commotion. The librarian gestures at them, in a manner suggesting that they are not needed.
The two cadets drag Kirk back to the apartment that he shares with McCoy in silence. They waste no energy by talking, since it was taking all of their strength to hoist Jim Kirk's limp mass between them.
"Thanks. I can get him from here," McCoy offers when they arrive at the door. Nyota bows her head, freeing Jim's arm from her body, sore and sweating from the exertion. The doctor shuffles a bit and Kirk's head swoops. A groan escapes from him.
Nyota flashes a brief, sad smile at McCoy. He returns the gesture. And, oddly enough, he laughs.
"I promise I'll tuck him into bed and read him a story. If he's a good boy, I'll give him warm milk and cookies."
She chuckles. "Leonard McCoy."
"What?"
"He's incredibly lucky to have a friend like you."
He snorts and rolls his eyes as he punches his ID number with his free hand. "You don't have to tell me that. I know I'm a damn good friend. In you go, you hotheaded idiot!" he grunts, hauling Jim Kirk's moaning body into the open building.
