Summary; expansion on my oneshot,

xenophobia, where Mr. Spock is transferred temporarily under a xenophobic Captain Granby and can not communicate with Starfleet or Enterprise.

A/N: Does anyone know of any stories like this? If so, please tell me - I'd like to read one as well, but I couldn't find one, so I just had to write it instead. :) Hope you like it. And, to readers of my other stories, I know, I said I wouldn't be starting anything else when I need to update my other stories, but I couldn't help myself!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, characters, etc. I make no money off this.

Warnings: Language, violence, angst.


C3

After the disturbing meeting in the briefing room, Spock returned to his quarters (he was starting to be suspicious about why they were really so small) and now attempted to reach the Enterprise. He could not send a recorded message, however, and the Enterprise was, as he predicted, not close enough for the usual real-time message. Starfleet, of course, could also not be reached, nor even any Starbases or other Federation vessels - they were in an uncharted, unexplored region of space, and that meant no one could be contacted. He would have no choice but to try and survive on the Defiant until he could find a way to leave.

The Defiant's CMO, Doctor Harcourt, was slightly surprised when a Vulcan walked into her sickbay. "Commander! Hello, have you been enjoying your time on the Defiant?" She waved away a nurse, flashing him a cheerful smile, but this faltered a moment later. "What happened to your face?"

Proper respect no smart talk subordinate you can't do a thing... "Irrelevant. A minor incident. If you would be so kind...?"

"Of course..." looking a little bewildered, she raised a dermal regenerator to his face, and the marred skin healed under the instrument. "There, that was simple enough - might be a little tender for a while, however. How exactly did you...?"

Spock was quite capable of lying; he did not, however, like doing so. "If you will excuse me, Doctor, I am quite busy. Thank you." He turned and was out the door before she could blink.

Doctor Harcourt folded her arms, pursing her lips in thought.

That bruise, she thought slowly, had looked suspiciously like a hand-mark...


On the starship Enterprise, Captain James Kirk grimaced slightly once Scotty left his quarters. He was the best Chief Engineer he had ever known; as a First Officer, however, he left much to be desired... Well, he thought, a little abashedly, that wasn't completely fair. He couldn't compare Scotty to the best First in the 'fleet.

He sighed. He missed Spock already; he couldn't imagine three to four months of this!


Spock sat on his small regulation bed, cross-legged, with a small, special candle in front of him, put in a small cage that would protect anything from catching on fire if it fell as the ship was fired upon, or any such thing.

He thought on the events of the past week. He considered what had happened, the reasons, and the implications, and finally what would likely happen next. The last was simple to determine.

Ganby would not stop at this - and he could not allow the captain to go any farther. Who knew what he might be able to do if Spock waited the weeks, perhaps months, before he could obtain outside aid? He had to act.

It would take some time and planning, he knew, and he would be breaking regulation, but he'd learned from the best.


Step One: Allies.

The next day he left after an hour or so on the bridge to check on the Science Department; Ganby did not even acknowledge him leaving.

Sharp brown eyes sized up each person who saluted even as he bid them to return to their duties. One in particular caught his eye, a lieutenant who had applied himself admirably to all tasks he had so far performed during Spock's brief stay, and one who had always seemed quite respectful. He approached the lieutenant, recalling his name as he did so.

"Lieutenant Valit." The surprised lieutenant turned to him, surpised, and flashed him a smile as he straightened.

"Sir?"

"Lieutenant, what was your opinion on the previous Science Officer?"

Valit huffed. "He was... poor, Sir. Very low standards. Not very knowledgeable, either, had no idea what he was doing, Sir. He was terrible at the management, too. Could never figure out the paperwork or anything, and half the time no one was doing anything because he just forgot to give them an assignment. Frankly, Sir, it was a relief when he was relieved - ah, no pun intended."

He inclined his head."I see. Thank you."

He was silent; humans often felt the need to speak at silence, and he was not disappointed. "So, are you enjoying the change of scenery, Sir?" Valit asked cheerfully, marking something down on his padd.

"It has proved to be... interesting... though in way of duties there is little difference, save that I am no longer First Officer."

"First Officer and Science Officer..." Valit shook his head in admiration. "Roland seems run down just by his duties, can't imagine him running a department as well."

"It is not so difficult; I do not require so much sleep as a human."

Valit's eyes flickered from the padd, interested. "Really? How much?"

"A Vulcan can last several weeks, as much as two months or more, without sleep and still be functioning adequetely, though certainly not optimally."

"We could use more officers like that," Valit said, glancing around with amusement at a nearly-dozing ensign, head bowed over his microscope and nodding. "I've heard Kirk is a fabulous Captain. What do you think of Ganby?"

Spock noted an inflection in his tone as he spoke of Ganby; cautioun, perhaps? Disdain? There were several emotions there. "I find Ganby to be... a poor choice as a Captain."

This was risky, but Valit did not look affronted, if he seemed a little surpised. "Oh? Why?"

Spock tapped at his padd several times, so Valit would not be so suspicious of his 'random' choice to talk, and answered. "I have in the past encountered those who have not 'liked' myself, and have treated me with some hostility. These I must resign myself to as unavoidable. Such clear xenophobia in a starship officer, much less a captain, however, is quite a different matter."

"Xenophobia?" This time Valit did look shocked. "Toward you."

"Yes; it seems illogical that someone xenophobic would be picked for a Starfleet captain expected to interact with other species." He tapped the screen of his padd again (it was blank, but Valit didn't need to know that) and then glanced around. "I believe I will return to the bridge, if you will excuse me...?"

A little thoughtful now (and was that anger?) Valit nodded distractedly, and Spock left.

Success.


The seed of suspicion planted in at least one person's mind, Spock knew that Valit would be easier later to convince to help him, if necessary, and judging by the looks the female ensign behind Valit had been giving them, he imagined that what he had said would soon be around the Defiant via gossip - and, if he understood correctly, according to Jim and Dr. McCoy gossip often grew exaggerated in the retelling. Soon people would be saying that Ganby had struck him for being alien - which, though many might not believe it, actually was the truth.

He went to the bridge now. Ganby did not acknowledge him, though Roland inclined his head politely. The navigator and pilot looked at him, but while the navigator flashed him a smile, the pilot looked less than pleased. He made a mental note of this.

He took over from the Science lieutenant and began making and assessing the scans, but even as he did so his mind was on his plans.


CRACK

His suspicions had proved correct; Ganby, now emboldened by his apparent success and invulnerability, had not hesitated to take Spock into the briefing room (the sight of which, illogically, gave him now a strange twinge of fear) and harangue him over small 'offences' he had apparently given the Captain during his shift, as well as reprimand him for 'disrupting' the bridge. This time he did not attempt to choose his answers carefully, speaking boldly; it might seem masochistic, but to gain support, it was necessary.

"Sir." He looked up at Ganby evenly. Despite this, he could not seem to lessen the too-rapid beating of his heart. "I find your apparent solution to my 'disruptions' to be quite primitive."

A bruising grip on his arm pulled him up roughly, shoving him toward the door. "Confined to quarters - look at me!"

Spock did so, raising an eyebrow. Ganby's brow twitched, but so far, at least, Spock sensed at least of modicrum of wariness from the man toward these actions - he did not need to be overly apprehensive.

Ganby glowered, eyes burning into him with dark, savage intent, and after a moment Spock understood what he awaited.

He lowered his eyes. "I will go to my quarters, Sir."

"Good."

The door hissed shut behind him.

Fascinating.


Two hits this time, though the angry hand-shaped bruise on his forearm surely could be counted as well. One on his face, one a more discrete, a punch to the stomach.

Step Two could begin.


In the halls, he attracted stares, voices trailing off as crewman caught sight of him. He made sure to stop by Science before going to the bridge.

The officers saluted as always, automatically, taking in sharp breaths as the sight of him. He waved them at ease - only two dropped their salutes at first, the rest staring.

Slowly they moved back to their work, eyes lingering. Valit alone dared to approach him.

"Sir, are you alright? What happened?" The human looked concerned. He had chosen well; he thought he would have been able to find a true friend in this human, given time, by what he had seen; but right now he would have to be more concerned of his safety.

He did not pretend to misunderstand. "The captain became... upset."

"The captain did that?" Shocked, his voice was loud and carried, and a few glanced at them, startled. He lowered his voice, though Spock had been hoping for that. "The captain?"

"Indeed. Would you be so kind as to distribute this update of the shift-changes? I am due on the bridge."

"I - of course, Sir."

"Thank you." He left before Valit could say another word.

When he reached the bridge, you could have heard a pin drop.

Ganby had not looked at him, but he could not help but notice the silence and stares, and despite himself he turned around.

His eyes widened.

Spock continued to his seat as though oblivious, though this was far from the truth. After what he deemed a suitable time adjusting the instruments at his station amid the silence, quiet but for the faint whirrs of the machinery, he stopped as though noticing something and turned around, looking about as though puzzled.

"Is there a problem?"

Blinking rapidly, Roland seemed to come to himself. "What happened to you??"

As always, his Vulcan physiology was to his advantage; though the bruise would have looked serious on even a human, coloration and severity of bruises differed in Vulcans due to their blood, and his looked all the worse to humans because of it - his left cheek was blotched with a black bruise, suspiciously hand-shaped.

"Happened?" He feigned innocence, but the flustered Ganby interrupted.

"Science Officer, with me!" he snapped.

Spock lowered his eyes. "Yes, Sir."

Ganby seemed to realize his mistake, starting a little and glancing uneasily at the others, then quickly striding off the bridge. Spock did not need to look about to imagine the suspicion on the crew's faces.

Humans were delightedly predictable.


In the briefing room, the sight of which made his chest icy (strange, this association of the room and fear - he would meditate on it) he was told by Ganby, in a furious hiss, to discretely get his face healed in Sickbay, or damned if Ganby wouldn't make him regret it. He was strangely uneasy, though he could not pinpoint the reason, but now it was almost an immediate reaction for him to lower his eyes before the captain... He would think on this later as well.

He had no qualms of leaving for Sickbay, though he did not perhaps get there as discretely as Ganby had wished, instead taking as long a route as he dared, allowing numerous crewmen to see him. He entered Sickbay several minutes later.

Harcourt's eyes widened when she saw him. "Sir!"

This time she looked quite more concerned. "What - Sir, come into my office, if you will?"

"Doctor." He inclined her head, entering her office as she ushered him in, indicating a seat before her desk. He sat calmly.

He was not surprised when, before running a dermal regenerator over her face, she took a picture of him. He did not point had that he was keeping his own documentation of his accumulating injuries in his quarters.

"Commander, I need to know exactly what is going on," she said, voice firm with the authority all CMO's seemed to possess. "Would I be correct in guessing that you got this by the same means as the last?"

"An astute observation."

"Hm. Who gave you these?"

"I do not think you will believe me." She opened her mouth to object even as she moved to put the regenerator away, but he raised a hand. "If you do not mind...?" He pushed back his sleeve, and her face darkened. She ran it over his arm.

"Anywhere else?"

He lifted his shirt slightly, and her lips pursed and nearly disappeared. Finally able to put the machine away, she continued, voice full of barely contained fury. "Obviously, these were caused by someone intentionally."

"Obviously."

"But I won't believe you."

"I do not think so." Well, he was not quite above lying when it was necessary.

"Try me."

She stared at him, eyes dark with suppressed anger, and after a moment, he nodded. "Captain Ganby."

"We'll involve him, of course - who was it?"

"Captain Ganby."

She paused, looking half-confused, half stunned as realization came on her. "The Captain?" Her face reddened with fury, and her voice went to a near shriek. "The Captain?"

"Indeed."

"Well." She struggled for a moment. "Well. Well. We'll see about that. I'll relieve him of duty immediately, obviously there's something wrong..."

"I think, Doctor, that you will find that this is not so simple as you believe. I do not believe his mental state is any different than it has ever been; you will find no irregularities in your evaluations of the captain, and without medical evidence of his instability - "

"I have you as evidence, don't I?"

"Indeed. However, not all of the crew will accept this. Furthermore, to declare a captain unfit while not in an emergency three officers of level grey clearance are required to declare an officer unfit for duty. On this ship that leaves myself, yourself, the captain, and the first officer. I can not count, as I am the 'victim'..."

"So we would need to inform Starfleet. That's simple enough."

"All outgoing recorded communications are being monitored."

"Then to hell with regulation - Starfleet will understand when this is over. What else are we supposed to do?"

"I fear it will not be so simple. There will be many who will support the captain, regardless of any evidence presented. He will refuse to be taken from command, and with support of many of the ship, there would only be one way to stop him."

Harcourt took a deep breath, running a hand through brown-grey hair. "Mutiny."

"Mutiny," he agreed.


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