Chapter 7: In Plain Sight

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and do not profit from depictions of them.

Warnings this chapter: length (6,500+ words). Chapter rewritten for logistical/characterization reasons.

"Fire!" Scotty roared. Simultaneously, he and Charlene reached for an emergency cabinet containing extinguisher tanks. The open flames were close enough to a sensor to start the automatic fire system. Two ceiling panels slid open and the emergency system dumped fire retardant powder onto the burning remains of the flying object and Charlene's damaged padd. Just in time, Scotty pushed Charlene behind him; light blue powder dusted him from shoulder to toe.

"Well, that's twice I'll change clothes tonight. I hope ye backed up all your data on that padd, Charlene."

"Always, in multiple locations," she replied. "Did any of that chemical get into your wound? Let me see it – better get you to Sickbay." Her long fingers moved carefully around the bleeding scratch as she tried to brush the powder away. "It isn't deep, but who knows what was on that object – it might infect you."

"Nay, lass, I'll go tae Engineering first," Scotty protested as other crew, responding quickly to the danger of fire aboard a ship, ran through the corridors.

"At least let me rinse it off!" Charlene grabbed a bottle of sterile water and First Aid kit from the emergency cabinet.

"Why are you worried about me? Did it hurt you?" Scotty realized that his hands had somehow clasped Charlene's waist. He reluctantly let go when Spock, Nyota, Sulu, and other crew ran into the corridor, halting at the sight of the burnt mess on the floor.

"Mr. Scott, is this the object of the alert?"

"Aye, Mr. Spock. It flew overhead, into a vent, back out of the vent, changed shape, flew dead at me and cut me on the head. Lieutenant Masters here held up her bag to stop it. It crashed and caught fire. There should be enough of the object left to analyze."

"Understood. Mister Scott, Miss Masters, thank you both for your actions in defense of the ship. Please report to Sickbay immediately in case of alien infection, and then to Engineering as soon as you have medical clearance."

Scotty glanced at Charlene, who nodded back without giving him an I told you so look in return. She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and then hurried off to Engineering.

Security crew arrived with a tricorder and hazmat gear; Spock used the tricorder to scan the object, simultaneously transmitting the data it gathered to Sciences and Security. He pulled on protective gloves and put the remains of the object into a bag.

The light mental fog created by her slow dance with Spock cleared rapidly when Nyota heard the alert. As soon as she saw that Scotty had only a minor injury – he strode off to Sickbay, his face grim – she sprinted for the bridge, where she was soon joined by two of her Communications staff. Using the tricorder data, they quickly compiled a preliminary report with images of the burned object and Nyota transmitted it to the appropriate division of Starfleet via a secure channel.

Jim Kirk's voice, deep and calm, sounded over the ship's comm, directing crew to their stations and issuing instructions to people on the bridge. The steady flow of his words imparted a sense of strength and readiness to meet any enemy. Nyota hadn't seen the Captain at the party; he'd been moody the last couple of days. She didn't know if he'd spent the last two hours sleeping or brooding alone in his quarters. When he turned in her direction from his place in the Captain's chair to request an open hailing channel to Starfleet Security, the bright, flat lighting of the bridge clearly showed dark circles beneath his eyes. Nyota returned her attention to her console, but something about Jim's demeanor worried her.

Sulu stepped into his role as the head of Enterprise Security. He and Spock carried out the Captain's request to direct crew to form small groups. The groups would investigate the entire ship, seeking other drones.

Donstelralth, Serranstivlen, and Stelendos asked Spock to assign them each to a search team. "Allow us to help you. It is logical, Opidsu (Lord) Spock," Donstelralth said in rapid-fire Vulcan with a rolling rrrr, a remnant of his regional accent from old Vulcan. The accent, which he'd carefully corrected through long practice to fit in better with upper-class clients, was only noticeable when he felt strongly about something. "We are stronger than humans - I do not intend offense, but you know it is true. We can lift heavy objects more quickly."

"It is against Starfleet ethics to put guests at risk of injury or in the line of combat," replied Spock.

"Sanoi, I insist." Donstelralth's long, graying hair swung as he shook his head in disagreement. "I will help search. If I am injured I will bear the wound proudly because I have helped the Enterprise."

"One like me can seldom repay anyone with anything except labor." Stelendos spoke up earnestly, so eager to help that he forgot his shyness and finally made full eye contact with Spock. "Starfleet rescued us, and I wish to help in return."

The Vulcans were sincere and Spock did not wish to offend them. "Agreed, osular (honored people). You may join the search. Please contact me immediately if any problems occur."

...

As the search began, Sciences analyzed the mysterious object, providing a preliminary identification of it as a kind of drone. No one knew how many were aboard, so the crew was directed to search for similar objects. Nyota used the ship wide channel to provide a verbal description for crew in areas without monitors.

"The drone is approximately 30 millimeters long, 25 millimeters wide at its broadest section. When aloft, it appears as a cluster of colored lights. The drone is capable of flight and has a front-mounted heat sensor, as well as several claw-like projections. Approach with caution; use of phasers is permitted. It may use a moderately strong magnetic field to attach itself to surfaces..."

An atmosphere of grim efficiency enveloped the ship as crew used handheld scanners, the ship's built-in security system, and visual examination to search for another drone. People searched thoroughly, anxiously, some kneeling on the floor to look beneath furniture without regard for the condition of their party clothes. How could they know if the object followed remote directions or not? It might hide itself atop a beam, behind a box, in any room aboard ship with a vent. No Jeffries tube went unexamined; fiber optic and robotic cameras searched miles of vents. Crew members permitted every centimeter of their cabins to be searched by volunteer teams, and then rotated back into search crews themselves. Donstelralth and the Vulcan apprentices lent their strength to moving heavy crates and furniture. Several crew members felt mildly embarrassed when search teams saw unusual personal possessions in their quarters. However, under emergency conditions no one cared much about which thirty-five-year-old had a small, much loved teddy bear, or who owned Tellarite sex toys. Only alien objects capable of harming the Enterprise mattered to people attempting to save their own lives.

Charlie Steap followed the members of his search team, looking busy and making the occasional cheerful remark. He behaved like a good crewman as they walked the corridors, climbed stepladders to look atop cabinets and beams. If he hadn't felt so comfortably smug he'd have laughed at everyone. He knew something about the drone that they didn't. The construction of the drone was unfamiliar to him, although he knew it was technologically advanced. As he'd pulled the drone out of his sleeve before releasing it into the vent as they'd told him to do, he'd almost marveled at it. He supposed it held some sort of tracking device and could be remotely controlled. The drone also had some kind of sensor, maybe for body heat. It hadn't pressed the metal disk into his arm until he'd exerted himself a bit, carrying the box while he walked to Sciences with Chekov.

The aliens hadn't told him much, he realized. His discussions with them were one sided: he told them about what the Enterprise was doing and where and they told him that the next payment was forthcoming. Steap frowned. Where was their home planet? Why did they look slightly different, perhaps disguised, during each video call? Each time he tried asking them for details about themselves, they either ignored his questions or reminded him that they controlled his next payment.

Too bad he didn't know more about them. If he did he might be able to turn on them and sell the information to Starfleet. Naturally, he'd been taught at the Academy that Starfleet never paid for information, but Steap didn't believe that anymore. Everyone and everything had a price.

...

Enthusiastic but serious, the Vulcans assisted with the search, using their strength to help move and replace stacked items. They worked on separate teams. Donstelralth, who spoke Standard fluently, surprised many of the Enterprise crew with his dry wit and philosophical Vulcan quotations ("Pulau na'vathular k'nuhk. Nar-tor pulaya s'au k'ka'es - k'el'rular tun-bosh (Reach out to others courteously. Accept their reaching in the same way, with careful hands)".

Stelendos learned many new vocabulary words as the search team opened and shut and pushed and lifted. Some of the words sounded obscene, judging by the facial expressions on the people who said them. It was agreeable to be accepted as part of the search effort. Even if it were futile he was proud to try to help other beings survive. It did not matter that so many were human. IDIC was real and he was keeping the philosophy alive through his actions. Surak would have been pleased.

…

Jim Kirk remained on the bridge, speaking to Spock, who strode through the corridors checking in with search teams and relaying reports to Jim. Jim also remained in constant communication with other crew and Starfleet officials. Nyota managed a rapid flow of incoming and outgoing communications. Starfleet tech from Starbase 231, the closest Federation outpost in their planetary sector, had questions about the ship's status, and simple wishes of hope for the starship and its crew. Nyota also relayed reports from the search teams to and from the bridge.

"Ms. Uhura." Spock addressed her formally during work hours. "You have now been at this station for eight hours and twelve minutes. Go on break and return after six hours unless summoned by the alert system or the Captain."

"Mr. Spock, I want to see this through. I can continue without such a long break." Her eyes felt dry from long hours of watching multiple monitors, and her lower back ached.

Spock looked at her doubtfully. "Such commitment is admirable, but fatigue results in errors. Your relief staff is here." He nodded at Lieutenant Chu, a Communications staff member waiting uneasily to replace Nyota.

"I haven't made any errors, and I prefer to remain on the bridge during this type of emergency." Nyota tried to keep the frustration out of her voice. She was tired, but too worried to leave her post willingly.

His voice remained flat, uninflected. "Lieutenant, this is an order."

"Yes, Mr. Spock." Annoyed, Nyota bit back further reply, gathered her padd and left her workstation. Spock meant well. He was right; she needed to rest, but she wanted to know what was happening to the ship. She lingered near a large monitor at the entry to the bridge, reluctant to leave.

Dr. McCoy strode out of the turbolift and over to Jim Kirk. "Captain, please tell me as soon as possible when we can scale back the search. I understand that this is an emergency, but for a few people this is the equivalent of a triple shift. Two crew people fainted. Folks ain't gonna be much help if they're delirious and hungry."

"Understood, Dr. McCoy. I'm ordering all crew but the team in the last sector to go off duty. They've only got one storeroom to search, and they're almost finished."

"When are you going to rest?"

"I'll stay on for a few more hours. I need to walk the ship myself, see how people are managing."

"Then you're going to sleep right? Let's be reasonable about this, Jim."

"When am I not reasonable?" Jim snapped. Heads turned away from screens at various workstations to stare as though observing a stranger. Jim's expression immediately showed regret. He rubbed his palm over his face. "Len, I'm sorry. Excuse me."

"Captain, it's all right. I understand, we're all stressed." Jim had appeared tense and distracted some days before the drone appeared, but McCoy decided to address that in a more private setting.

Jim's tired eyes connected with Nyota's. "Uhura, open a ship-wide channel. Please," he added carefully. She returned to the workstation and did so, apologizing to Lt. Chu. Jim spoke to the entire crew through the Captain's comm, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Attention, all crew. Thank you for your hard work. No evidence of intrusion by additional drones has been found, but we have one small area to search, so give it all you've got, people. Anyone not in that area, please sign out and then eat and rest. I know that you're all giving this your closest attention, and I appreciate it. Bridge crew rotates out with relief crew. Kirk out."

Spock approached the Captain's chair. "Captain, you have been on the bridge for eleven hours, twenty-one minutes, and eight seconds, inclusive of time before and after Mr. Scott's emergency call. May I suggest -"

"I'd prefer to discuss this later, Mr. Spock." Jim said. Spock looked back at him impassively, then glanced at the changing data on a nearby monitor and changed the subject.

"The search of the last sector of the ship is now complete, and the search produced nothing. No further spy devices were found; nor is there any indication of physical damage or sabotage."

"Good. Thank you, Mr. Spock; notify all Enterprise crew that the search is complete, and join me in my ready room to make the formal report to Starfleet. McCoy, you too, please. Uhura, please gather the planetary dossier and base notes for Starbase 231 and join us in forty-five minutes; bring Mr. Scott with you." he added.

"Yes, sir."

Not all Starfleet personnel managed stress well or carefully. Spock knew that Nyota managed her own work-related tension through exercise, prayer, social activities, and occasional indulgence in knitting and recreational reading. Most of the human crew probably regarded his own meditation practice as a sort of stress reduction, unaware its spiritual and personal aspects. Usually Spock sparred with Jim or Sulu in the ship's gymnasium during the week. Jim had not come to the gym at the usual time for several days. Allowing for the possibility that Jim dealt with other responsibilities, Spock practiced martial arts with McCoy and Sulu instead. Now he regretted his lack of attention. It would have been easy to seek Jim out and inquire about his activities and psychological state.

…

Engineering, The Enterprise

Serranstivlen helped search in Medical, Sciences, and Engineering. He moved heavy panels and equipment. He also scanned catwalks to make sure that no additional drones were concealed beneath the walkways. He, like the humans, smiled when he heard Captain Kirk announce the search was over. Serranstivlen replaced a heavy roll of insulation material and left the small storeroom he'd been searching and returned to the main Engineering area where Scotty and other Engineering and Sciences staff concluded their search below the floor panels.

"Osasu Scott, I have finished searching inside the storeroom and found nothing. I see you are replacing the floor panels. I will help, they seem very heavy."

"Thanks, Serran. All clear! It's great to have ye Vulcan lads as part of this effort." The Engineer looked tired, but determined. Serranstivlen gripped the heavy panels in his big hands and maneuvered them back into place with help from the crew.

"Hardly need our help, do ya, muscles?" one of the other men – Steap, it was – said to him. "Hope you're not angling for a Starfleet job."

Was the man joking, jealous of his strength, or expressing some other emotion entirely? Most of the humans aboard had been cordial so far. Serran decided it was an expression of humor. He shrugged and continued to work until he had replaced the last floor panel.

"Thank ye, gents," Scotty said. "Anyone now pullin' a third shift, now hear this: get out! Go sleep, eat, rest easy for a while. I won't have anyone injured in my area because they're too tired to work safely. That goes for anyone on a second shift too."

"This has been an unusual experience, Osasu Scott," Serranstivlen said quietly.

"I thank ye for your help, lad. Call me Scotty."

"But you are an officer."

" Right now I'm just a very tired man from Edinburgh. Ye worked for hours here without asking for a break and ye get along well here. Use my nickname, unless ye feel compelled to call me Montgomery for some reason. Even me Mam called me Monty." Scotty glanced around the room. "One more thing, and then you go sleep or whatever Vulcans do. Will ye please return that toolbox to the storage pod on the next level up? The turbolifts may be busy now, so use that Jeffries Tube instead." Scotty inclined his head towards the hatch.

Serranstivlen hastened to pick up the toolbox and nimbly climbed up the Jeffries Tube. He heard footsteps, someone moving aside as he neared the top. A uniform miniskirt and a pair of shapely legs came into view, and he slowed his ascent to look at them more easily.

The blond yeoman from the party stared back at him. "Serran! I hope you like what you see; you're staring hard enough."

He opened the mesh safety door to the tube and let himself out. "Pardon me, please." He looked down at her. She did not appear angry, but he should explain himself. "I appreciate your legs."

She giggled. "Is that so? I appreciate your chest and shoulders."

He looked down at her with the ghost of a smile on his face. "Your laugh...it is like music."

"Oh, come on. That line's old even on New Vulcan."

"Perhaps, but it is true. It is a fine distraction in an emergency."

"The emergency and the ship search are over now. I'm so relieved; I just want to relax," she said, batting her eyelashes.

Serranstivlen wondered if something were caught in her eye but remembered seeing such behavior among humans previously. Perhaps she welcomed more than conversation. "I have learned much aboard the Enterprise in a short time; the humans here tell me much about starship life, and Earth life, and the human body."

Her eyes widened with curiosity; she watched his bare arms flex as he lifted the heavy toolbox and put it away in the storage pod. "May we socialize? Perhaps I can share some of what I have learned."

…

Quarters of Lieutenant Charlene Masters, The Enterprise

It was the first time Scotty had ever been inside Charlene's quarters, though she'd previously visited his. Neat, but not oppressively so. Colorful holos on the walls, and a round shallow basket woven with contrasting reeds and a geometric pattern sitting on the table. He waited almost shyly in a chair near the door while she changed her shoes. Still feeling a rush of nervous energy, he'd asked Charlene to walk in the observation deck with him for a few minutes. Surprisingly, she agreed, saying that she couldn't sleep yet either.

His gaze lit on a small glass of water placed on the floor near the head of her bunk.

"Careful, Charlene – looks like ye forgot a water glass there last night. Mind ye don't walk into it."

"What? Oh – that's, uh, that's supposed to be there." She looked away for a moment, her hands fidgeting.

"Pardon?"

She stopped fidgeting and looked at him steadily. "It's a custom from my people. My family is from the South Carolina Sea Islands. You might have heard the terms 'Gullah' in your travels, or 'Geechee' in some of your old sound recordings. That's us. I had…a lot on my mind recently, and so I tried an old custom. If you want an ancestor to speak with you in your dreams, place a glass of water beneath the head of your bed and their spirits may give you a bit of advice. Usually I hide that glass when people come over."

"Oh. I've never heard of that, but makes sense, I suppose. If you wish someone to have a chat with ye, offer them a drink at least. 'Tis the polite thing to do."

"Not the sort of thing engineers usually do, though." She sat next to him. "Aren't you going to say it's unscientific?"

"No. Life isn't simple, as we've just been reminded. And yes, you're an engineer, but ye are a woman too." They looked at each other for a long moment. He almost reached for her hand. Almost. "Shall we have our walk now?"

They talked quietly about the search as they made their way to the Observation Deck. Exhausted crew people staggered past them toward their beds, exchanging weary, victorious smiles with them.

"Are you feeling any better, Scotty? Going to tell me what worried you in the transporter room?" Charlene asked when they were alone, standing by a broad window.

"I wasn't exactly worried, just...felt something. Keep this one close, 'Lene."

"I will."

"When I was not such a wee lad - nine years old - I was visiting my grandparents in the small town where they lived. I liked Edinburgh but their place was magic for a child - massive old trees, creaky old house, even a burn runnin' through the property - ah yes, you know a 'burn' is a stream, yes," he said as Charlene nodded. "On one visit during the winter holidays, I was playing outside with me brothers, and my grandmother came tearing out of the house. Gathered us all up like a hen and chicks and made us come inside. It wasn't even raining! When we asked her why she said, 'I'm afraid that one old tree in the garden is about to fall right on top of you' - she could see it happen, almost. We argued until she let us back outdoors, on the other side of the house - without trees. Within the hour, a ferocious windstorm rolled inland. Wind howling like wolves, pelting rain, tiles torn off the roof. That old tree came down right where we'd been playin'. All of us teased her and called it coincidence."

"You could look at it from both sides," Charlene said. "She loved you and wanted you to be safe, and naturally she'd be attentive to potential risks. After all, she'd been a mother herself."

"True," Scotty shrugged. "But the next year she saw my cousin Roger's car accident, the week before it happened. Made a videocall to Edinburgh to warn us. Even pointed to the arm he was gonna break; left arm, it was. She saw other things too. Finally I asked Mum and she said my grandmother had been saying things like that all her life, so often that she didn't notice it any longer. 'You know your family has the Sight, don't you, Monty?'And we didn't really discuss it much beyond that. But during the past few years, I've been having premonitions. Sometimes I see things clearly, when I don't want to see them. Other times I know something's…off, but I can't say exactly what it is or what it means. I just know, and I hate not being able to do something about it. That's what happened in the transporter room. Something's wrong, and it wasn't only the drone. Oh, 'Lene. Now you're just lookin' at me. Ye aren't thinkin' of calling Dr. McCoy, are ye?"

"Certainly not. It's nothing to be frightened of," she said soothingly. " And you know about me. Why would I, of all people, think anything's wrong with you?"

"Most people don't believe in what they can't see."

Charlene smiled at him. "Electricity. Sound waves. Gossip. Can't see 'em, but we all know how powerful they are, yeah? Really, Scotty, the oddest things about you are how you manage to get along so well with everyone aboard, and how you mysteriously obtain highly desirable items while we're on deep space runs. Really, where do you get Scottish breakfast tea - in a tin, no less - when the nearest planet is Andoria? Don't tell me it's transwarp beaming, because I won't believe you."

Relieved by Charlene's acceptance of him, Scotty smiled back. "I must keep some secrets, lass."

Charlene felt heat spread to her face. She liked hearing Scotty's voice call her lass. It was terribly inappropriate, but she felt soft and fuzzy and fluttery when he did, ridiculous feelings for a woman past thirty. Anyone else would have been warned of a complaint to Human Resources for calling her a girl, Somehow she and Scotty had entered a zone far, far away from work. Too bad she felt as though she had no map to guide her through properly. "Okay, you rascal. I'll keep your secret. I might not turn down a box of Brodie's in exchange, though."

"Playing hardball, my dear Miss Masters! Is Taylor's of Harrogate acceptable if I can't source the first?"

"Yes, thanks...and if you can find a jar of Marmite to go with it, you've got my loyalty forever." She elbowed him, and he blushed.

"A Marmite fancier too! You're the one's been keeping secrets around here, you under-the-table breakfast fanatic. Agreed, ma'am. Ye shall have your smuggled brekkie items, as soon as I can pull the appropriate strings."

Laughing, Charlene leaned against him, confirming his suspicions that she was indeed curvy and soft in some very nice places. Unfortunately, his communicator chimed. Uhura informed him that his presence was required in the Captain's ready room.

…

Captain Kirk's Ready Room, The Enterprise

Jim and Spock completed their required report to Starfleet by videolink. As the transmission ended Jim slumped back in his chair.

"Jim, may I inquire about your personal thoughts regarding this situation?"

"There's more to this than a drone. We don't know how long it flew around the Enterprise. It very likely gathered and transmitted data in some way that got through our communications security." Stubble rasped against Jim's hand as he rubbed his face. "Gentlemen, I've made a decision to space-dock at Starbase 231 and have the ship undergo a complete security search by ground crew. They'll search everything from tech to cargo storage. All Enterprise crew will take a shuttle to the surface of the base planet, Alpha Cachette, or beam down. Everyone will be temporarily billeted planetside, staying in Starfleet housing in the small city near the base. Kind of a compulsory shore leave," he said wryly. "When I'm satisfied with the results of the search, everyone comes back aboard and the Enterprise continues her mission."

Spock frowned. "Captain, I disagree with your decision. Our own Enterprise security personnel and crew have already conducted thorough searches of public and private areas, employing tools within the ship's own security system and hand-held scanning devices. As you know, I temporarily reassigned dozens of staff to assist in the searches, at considerable detriment to the ship's normal workflow. Please reconsider the utility of docking to conduct additional, perhaps unnecessary, searches."

"What if we've all missed something? What about my crew's safety?" Jim persisted. "I prefer losing a few days of scheduled travel over being blown up in transit, or allowing crew to suffer as the ship's systems shut down one by one. I'm responsible for hundreds of lives and I will not put them at risk."

"Have you considered the possibility that you, yourself, are at some risk now?"

Jim glared at Spock. "How is that?"

McCoy said in a calming tone, "Captain, if I follow Mr. Spock's line of thought, crisis situations sometimes produce intense reactions to stress. Not that I'm singling you out - it's just that the presence of the drone, coupled with your usual responsibilities, may affect your response to our situation."

"You don't think the crew's stressed?" Jim replied.

"Of course, but it's nothing unexpected; mild exhaustion, and a few people experienced anxiety or minor muscle strains from overexertion. Generally, a good, safe performance by an excellent crew."

"Maybe you should examine me next, Bones. Mr. Spock seems concerned about me."

"Doctor, I am indeed concerned about Jim's well-being. He has now been on duty for nearly twenty-four hours without an adequate meal or sufficient rest. Jim, I do not intend to make personal remarks, but I have observed some differences in your behavior during the previous two days."

Jim looked irritated. "Jeez, Spock, I have insomnia for a couple of days and that's reason for a psycho-vac? Whatever happens out here in space, I can handle."

McCoy winced. "Easy now, Jim. Please don't use that term."

"Sorry to offend your delicate sensibilities, Bones, but it seems like that's the implication. Nothing's wrong with me."

A few Starfleet Captains were known to have undergone what was pejoratively referred to as a 'psycho-vac', a forced removal from Captain's duties and their starships following psychological breakdowns. Spock knew that McCoy and Nyota loathed the term, both arguing that it was insensitive, cruel, and showed a lack of respect for people experiencing psychological stresses that might befall any humanoid in a position of great responsibility. It was unlike Jim to speak thus; he must be under a great deal of stress.

Spock remembered something Nyota had taught him about conflict resolution. He changed his body posture, uncrossing his arms, leaning slightly forward, and trying to make himself appear relaxed, empathetic, and willing to listen.

"Please excuse me, Jim. I did not mean to suggest that you are in an altered state of mind. I would like to hear what you have to say."

Surprised, Jim stared at Spock, then exhaled and leaned back in his chair. "Our recent experiences with combat situations and on-planet missions have been difficult, to put it mildly. Even my diplomatic trip to New Vulcan involved knife attacks. I have no shore leave scheduled for a while. Usually all this stuff doesn't bother me. Right now, it does."

"Understood. Right now it bothers you. I agree that leave time is beneficial to anyone." Spock echoed Jim's words. Nyota had explained that doing so helped the other person to understand that you were indeed listening to them.

McCoy watched Spock. His First Officer was obviously learning something from Uhura. Well, butter my biscuit. Marriage changes even Vulcans. Hell, if it works this well on Spock, maybe I should give it another shot.

"Guys, this emergency has been hard on all of us. The danger was within; we couldn't shoot phaser cannons at it. I could order you to go on leave, Jim. Think it over."

Jim stood up and stretched. "Believe me, I've been thinking about it already. Federation notes for Starbase 231 mentioned a large beach. We're arriving just in time for the end of the warm season, but if anybody's up for a last chance on the sand, I'm gonna put on my trunks and head out there on the first free afternoon." He smiled, looking a bit more optimistic.

"Back to the real issue here. No drone before Algid-17. So either it came up with us, or it lay dormant on board until it could conveniently fly through the corridors during the party…of course, it may have been flying through the hallways for several days before we even got to Algid-17. Everyone of us who went out in the landing party wore a suit; nothing was on those suits when we returned, right? The collection box contained nothing but soil and atmospheric samples, a tricorder, a few pieces of our own gear."

"There is one other way the drone may have come aboard," Spock said hesitantly. "The Vulcans."

"Donstelralth was honest with us – wasn't he? Why would Vulcans sabotage a Federation ship? They've got more to gain from the Federation than to lose. That dog don't hunt." McCoy shook his head.

"We'll have to question them," Jim said. "I'm sorry, Spock."

"Few Vulcans would betray a rescuer, or betray loyalty once shown," Spock replied sternly. "Donstelralth and his apprentices worked beside our crew without resting until the emergency ended. They clearly expressed their desire to help us." Spock's cheekbones flushed green. "It is unlike Vulcans to deceive allies."

"Who else was able to bring anything aboard?" Jim demanded. "Me? Chekov? Steap? You? Do we need to question each other? All of us are Starfleet. The only other possibility I can think of is that something got transported during beaming, but Scotty's equipment would have caught it. Nothing was on those transporter pads except us and those Vulcans."

"It is unwise, Jim," Spock said tersely. "Although Donstelralth holds no political position, it is possible that some of his clients do. Donstelralth is a loyal Vulcan citizen and supports the goals of the Federation. If he is treated badly on the Enterprise, he may choose to express his discontent to a politically influential client and cause discontent. Please do not interrogate the Vulcans or ask to search their belongings unless evidence linking them to the drone is found. I will attempt to address the issue in a way that they will not find insulting. It is possible that their shuttle was tampered with, and that the drone was attached to their possessions."

"Somebody out there has access to the Enterprise schedule, then, and who knows what other classified information." Jim frowned. "Even the possibility makes a Federation search essential. We stay in space-dock, with some crew planetside, until I'm satisfied that the ships' safe. You know that the Federation would have ordered this anyway, Spock. I'd rather continue our mission, but we have to do it safely."

Nyota and Scotty arrived at the Captain's ready room then; Sulu and Chekov joined them. All listened carefully as Jim and McCoy explained the reasoning behind the plan to dock at Starbase 231 for a full search.

At Jim's request, Nyota presented an overview of useful cross-cultural communication information relevant to Alpha Cachette, the planet housing the land-based parts of Starbase 231. Climate (late summer), local languages (many, including Standard and a sort of local pidgin which was easy to understand), safety (very), entertainment (beach, café), and population (small city surrounded by farms, Mayor known for being smart , accessible to constituents, friendly to the Federation). Comfortable, but not particularly cosmopolitan; a good place to release some stress.

"Are there any other notes from the cultural dossier?" Jim looked drowsy.

"All local foods are safe to eat; however, one popular plant," Nyota gestured towards the projected image of a dark purple and green plant with heart-shaped leaves – "may produce headaches or disorientation in people unaccustomed to it. So if it shows up on your plate, just push it aside – politely, of course."

Nyota carefully maintained a composed, calm expression as she moved on. "Captain Kirk, I made a quick videocall to a representative of their tourist bureau to obtain more information about cultural norms. She mentioned an interesting aspect of the local culture which was not included in the official Federation planetary cultural overview. During the pre-Federation historical period, the dominant cultures of Starbase 23 engaged in some sort of female-oriented reinterpretation of various Earth-based, humanoid religions."

She looked around to make sure people were still paying attention, and continued. "As you all know, the planetary government is officially secular and that religion is no longer practiced. However, there are certain...cultural remnants. Even when local people are speaking Standard with you, they may make references to appreciation of certain aspects of female anatomy or psychology. Their own attitudes range from reverence to humor, it's unpredictable. However, they dislike outsiders who don't take the influence of their religious culture seriously. The best approach is probably to listen but avoid any reaction or comment."

"That's fine," Jim said. "I appreciate your additional effort. What is this religion, exactly?"

"Vulva worship."

An awkward silence fell over the conference room. Chekov flushed a deep red and studied the grain in the surface of the table. Sulu blinked, his mouth open. Scotty looked ready to burst from the effort of holding back a joke. Nyota sensed an inquisitive tingle through the mating bond and looked at Spock. He regarded her so intently that she felt heat rise to her skin in response.

I intend to turn this custom to our advantage, Nyota.

Jim Kirk's face nearly glowed with anticipation, as though someone had told him he would be allowed to enter a large amusement park and ride on all of the rides for free.

Thanks for reading, and special thanks to everyone who has posted a review or comment so far!