Title: Home (Multichapter fic with 35 parts)

Beta: Lissaea at Livejournal and T'Key'La

Warnings, Themes and Tropes, etc.: bondage, torture, prostitution, explicit sex, drug use

Summary: The Vulcans need a new home planet, so the Enterprise and her crew set out to find one for them.

"They'd come all the way for this? Which mad astronomer had sent them out here? Whose twisted idea had it been?"

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or any of its characters.

– Home-Part 5 of 35 –

The crews of the Enterprise and Excaliburhad been searching for a suitable planet for nearly three weeks. Jim scrolled quickly through the texts and diagrams in a report from Scotty, stopping only to read the paragraphs containing numbers until he found what he was looking for-the engineer had been able to improve their sensors' external quantum efficiency by 46.7%. Nice work, it would save power, but it wouldn't make it any more likely that the next planet they investigated wouldn't also prove to be as much of a waste of time as all the previous ones.

The doors to Jim's quarters swished open. Jim looked up from his work to see Spock standing in the doorway; punctual as always, even though this was an informal meeting.

Jim moved out from behind his desk to sit on the bench sofa. "Come in, Spock."

Spock raised an eyebrow at the seating arrangement, but sat down next to him. The sofa had seemed like a more casual place for this conversation, which was bound to be very awkward, he knew how private Spock was after all; now, though, he wondered whether Spock might've felt more comfortable if he'd kept the setting formal. Without the space of the desk separating them from one another the atmosphere was certainly more … intense.

He took a deep breath-it might not be any of his goddamned business, but he was the captain and they were both stationed on the bridge and so according to Starfleet protocol that made it his business.

"So, um, how's your relationship with Lieutenant Uhura going?"

Spock's eyes widened infinitesimally; he quickly turned his head and looked out of the window at the passing stars.

"Captain, I must apologize-."

Jim knitted his brow and stopped Spock midsentence. "What are you apologizing for?"

"That I did not inform you that Lieutenant Uhura and I are no longer in a romantic relationship."

For a moment all Jim could do was stare. He had not expected this. While he'd been worried about their relationship, he'd also been sure that Spock would've told him if they'd broken up.

"Since when?"

Jim found himself shuffling his body into a slightly different position on the seat, but no position he could find was comfortable.

"Since the inquiry started," Spock said evenly.

Jim ground his teeth. The inquest was nearly at its close, the results expected next week. He'd have to remember to make sure nothing breakable was in his reach when he read the verdict. Damn them! And why hadn't Spock told him earlier? If this had been a recent development, he'd have understood. Apart from the fact he'd thought him and Spock were friends, it was unprofessional. There were some rules against fraternization still, but most of them had been relaxed in the last sixty or so years. It was fine for two bridge officers to be together as long as he was kept informed. He clenched his jaw.

They talked for a while longer; Spock did his best to steer the conversation towards other topics, such as the improvements the crew were making to the sensors. But Jim wasn't focusing on what his first officer was saying, wasn't making any effort to appear as if he was. Spock made his excuses to get away from the uncomfortable situation; Jim was surprised he'd stayed as long as he had.

"Is there anything a ship's deflector dish can't do?" Jim said.

"Sir?" Isabaev asked.

"Hmmm? Oh! Nothing, I was just thinking out loud. Don't mind me."

He stepped over the cables on the floor, which reminded him of an upturned plate of multi-colored spaghetti. That had always been his favorite as a kid-multi-colored spaghetti with ice cream and chocolate sauce. It was just as good as it sounded and it was quite a letdown the Enterprise's food synthesizers weren't able to make something that complicated.

Spock was kneeling down on the floor next to Isabaev, hooking cables up to data terminals and PADDs.

He looked up. "Captain, we can finish without you here. You have not rested in over thirty-six hours."

Jim met his eyes; they looked so human.

"I can 'not rest' for another hour," he said. "If I go to bed now, then I will have stayed up all this time for nothing."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

Jim shook his head quietly. It was clear Spock wasn't following his 'logic'.

"It won't be much longer," Isabaev said. "Once we've finished re-routing these cables the computer should be able to process the data we're going to feed it in a very short time."

Jim smiled. "I'm glad to hear it."

After standing around them for another few minutes, Jim started to feel very uncomfortable about doing so, though. He remembered back when he was a midshipman and Commander Jelínek had insisted on constantly looking over his shoulder as he'd repaired a data sub-station. Jelínek had been such a control freak; he'd been glad when that assignment had ended and he'd gone back to the Academy to sit some exams.

So Jim found a bit of floor that was mostly clear of cables, pushed the few that were still in the way to one side, and sat down resting his back against a bulkhead.

The two first officers worked silently and efficiently. He watched from afar as Spock knelt down to take something out of a toolbox, his pointy ears far more elegant than Isabaev's round ones.

Spock wasn't human, even if his mother had been-he'd grown up a Vulcan, so Jim had to be careful applying his own set of standards to him. Vulcans were probably very private people. Spock might never chose to talk to him about his private life, no matter how close they became in the future, and hell, they were already incredibly close-in battle they had each other's backs, protected and relied on one another without a second thought.

He felt some of his back muscles relax. A little while later, … had it been minutes or an hour? He wasn't sure … the two firsts stood up.

"Finished," Isabaev said.

Jim got up and went to join them, stretching his tired muscles as he walked. They turned on the data terminal; numbers flashed across the screen in large arrays, while huge matrices were calculated in nano-seconds. He fought back a yawn and tried to wake himself up by finding something to focus on, but the data was being analyzed too quickly for him to keep track of it.

"Spock, can you tell anything yet?"

"LK98-9 is unsuitable," he replied.

Jim looked from Spock's impassive face to Isabaev's. She had clenched her jaw.

"That's the planet we'd had high hopes for, isn't it?"

Neither of them replied though as suddenly they both had their eyes glued to the display again.

"What's going on now?"

"There's a planet in sector XH-7 that we'd discounted," Isabaev said. "It seemed to be 'dead' … but the deflector dish's readings show that it does have a magnetosphere of some kind."

She turned to him with wide eyes. "It's probably still unsuitable, but it proves that this technique works."

Jim grinned at her. This was great news; their sensors alone just weren't up to the job.

"There." Spock stopped stream of analyzed data and pointed.

Jim followed the line of his elegant finger and let out a low whistle. "That looks good. Which planet is that?"

"HUY-98-6, we are scheduled to pass by its solar system in five point three days," Spock replied. "I will take the data to astronomy."

"Yes, do that. We'll let you know if there're any other interesting results here."

When Spock left and the doors had closed behind him Isabaev turned to Jim and shook her head.

"I can't believe after all this time we've spent building and programming this computer, he's happy to just go over the data in the astronomy lab. He'll miss the rest of the analysis!"

"The data's not going anywhere. It doesn't matter to him if he's here or not."

"But you're here," she said.

"Yes, but logically I should be in bed," he said and smiled weakly.

They watched the progress for a while longer in silence.

"Is it true?" Isabaev asked.

"Is what true?" Jim replied, mind not really focused on her words.

"Well, … about him and Lieutenant Uhura?"

Jim he clenched his hands into fists automatically.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have asked."

"The inquest will rule in a few days," Jim replied quietly.

Then this whole saga would be over, he hoped. It grated on his nerves that neither had informed him that their relationship was over. He covered his face with his hands to stop his anger from showing; Spock had apologized after all and in professional terms he supposed it was relatively unimportant for him to know who wasn't sleeping together anymore.

Isabaev leant in closer. "It's just … if it really is true … I simply find it hard to believe now that I've actually got to know Commander Spock. He's such a cold person."

"Yes, Vulcans do have a lower core body temperature, but I think you'll find his skin still feels warmer to the touch than most humans," he replied woodenly.

She stared at him wide eyed, but Jim felt worn out-he didn't want to talk to her. He left her at the console and stepped up to a large window. Oh, he'd never admit it to anyone, and even if he did, no one would believe him, least of all Bones, but he was a romantic through and through. He was surprised and confused at how Spock and Uhura's relationship had ended-wasn't it written in the stars that when two lovers so different got together against all odds that they stuck by each other 'til the end of time, come hell or high water, or in this case, the media?

Jim looked down at the PADD on his desk. As Spock's commanding officer it fell to him to write the reprimand once the board had ruled on his conduct-which it now had. Spock knew how he felt on the issue, so why was this so hard? Just write down anything, it wouldn't matter. But he'd once been on the receiving end of these kinds of reports himself.

In his lost years, as Pike had so politely and succinctly put it, he'd been a 'repeat youth offender'. He'd been to prison only twice, and both times for short stays, half a year maximum, as his crimes hadn't really been all that bad-at least they hadn't seemed so back then. Now, though … he shuddered. He didn't want anyone to associate the man he was now with the youth he'd been then.

A month after his release from his second stint in prison he'd hacked into the system and read his probation officer's report. Some said the truth hurt, and Jim wasn't going to disagree with that, but it had been about more than simply seeing it spelled out for him; it was a universal truth, he thought, that it was hard to accept yourself for someone you didn't want to be and when you were forced to do so, it was devastating.

And that's what he was afraid of, wasn't it? Writing this down made it real somehow … had Spock acted correctly? Right and wrong were very difficult concepts for one person alone to have to decide upon. But laws and rules didn't always leave room for individual circumstances. That excuse was one he'd used himself many times, his treacherous mind supplied. Jim picked up the offending PADD and wrote the reprimand. He didn't stop until he'd finished the damned thing and added it to Spock's permanent record.

The next day Jim and Spock were alone in the turbo lift on their way to the bridge of the USS Excalibur. Spock looked a bit off-color. Had he already read the reprimand?

"Are you ok?" Jim asked.

Spock turned his head and raised an eyebrow at him.

Jim shuffled his feet. "You just seem a bit … on edge."

Spock tilted his head and looked away from Jim. "While working with the navigator on the bridge of the Excalibur I noted that I was an object of visual observation. People were looking at me more frequently than they do on average on the Enterprise."

"We'll be back on our ship soon," Jim replied, keeping his eyes fixed on Spock's face, but the Vulcan didn't turn his head again, avoiding meeting his eyes.

When they exited the turbolift Commander Isabaev turned to look back over her shoulder at Spock, before returning her attention to Captain Patel. Spock walked over to Ensign N'goz at navigation and Jim followed him, but stood back a bit.

"Captain Kirk and I have discussed the proposed alterations to our flight plan with Starfleet headquarters. The course change has been approved. A minor deviation of one point four degrees is required to take us to HUY-98-6."

"Yes, sir, we're already scheduled to arrive in that system. In a matter of minutes actually," Ensign N'goz said. "I'll make the adjustments to take us to the planet."

A young ensign manning the communications terminal turned around in her seat. "Sir, the Enterpriseis hailing us."

"On screen," Captain Patel said and looked over his shoulder at Jim.

"Mr. Sulu, what can I do for you?" Jim asked, stepping forward.

"We've received a message from the Klingons via Starfleet headquarters. I'm transmitting it to you now."

Jim's face went serious at once. The screen was blank for a few seconds before the transmission started.

"Starfleet, you have sent battleships into a region of space we, the Klingon Empire, lay claim to. The system your ships are currently heading towards is legitimately Klingon. If your vessels are not recalled from the sector immediately we will be forced to take action."

Jim snapped his head around to look at Spock, who had gone very tense. It was obvious to him that Spock was trying to control his body's involuntary reaction to the message. He knew how much his first officer must hate that his famed control was slipping, right here in front of everyone on the Excalibur's bridge, so he looked away again quickly, pretending he hadn't noticed-and hoping that no one else had.