MEANWHILE...(EARTH-DATE: JUNE 18TH, 2009.)
Meanwhile, Spock materialized in a tree. He was very awkwardly jammed in the y-fork of the trunk. The situation was almost as illogical as it was uncomfortable, he noted, as he attempted to shift the pressure from his crotch to his feet by bracing them against a nearby branch. This movement caused the tree to sway sickeningly and some ants to fall on his head. He sighed and blew an ant off his bottom lip.
"Hey! Are you an alien?" someone called from below. He looked down. A human boy was riding towards him upon an unwieldy antique contraption once called a "bicycle" on Twentieth-century Earth. Any being, Spock decided, that chose to ride such a frivolous and useless machine was suffering a serious deficit of logic. He suspected that this was probably why humans found them so appealing.
"Hey, Alien? You okay?" the boy yelled up at him, skidding to stop at the base of the tree. He was wearing old-fashioned clothing that flapped in the breeze and hung off his vaguely sickly and unattractive frame. He looked like the kind of kid who got beaten up a lot.
"Fascinating," Spock mused, wondering how he knew he was an alien and how come he wasn't running away screaming. He picked up his tri-corder and attempted a brusque scan the area, but the it wouldn't turn on. The child continued to chatter at him as he tinkered with the controls, apparently un-fazed by Spock's obvious disinterest. Spock estimated from his flimsy frame and weak appearance that even if aggravated, he did not posses the strength to come after him up the tree and deal any serious damage, so he was quite safe being rude.
"...anyway, so that's why I was completely coincidentally riding by when you apparated. It's so cool to see a real-live alien!" the boy chattered, squinting up at him admiringly. "You okay up there?"
Spock glanced down at him. He had a gruesomely-freckled nose and comfortingly dull brown hair.
"Apparate?" Spock asked, adjusting the knobs on his tri-corder.
"Sorry, I tend to use Harry Potter terms when I'm excited. I get my lunch money stolen a lot because of that, too. And because I don't have any underarm hair yet. I'm sixteen years old."
Spock felt one of his eyebrows lift.
"What do you call your planet?"
"Earth. This is Bolton, Massachusetts, year 2009." said the boy, rubbing his nose. He was wearing a very generic t-shirt and very boring pants. They were a bit high-waisted, Spock noted, similar to the ones Kirk used to wear, although the date that this design was popular had expired some twenty years ago. He looked around at the planet, observing the low, concrete buildings and primitive asphalt road. The dominant plant life was a crude strain of grass and appeared to be cropped short manually. An automobile zoomed by, rustling the leaves of the tree and making a few more ants fall on his head.
"That's my school, right there," the boy said, pointing at the large concrete building behind him. "I'm a Freshman here at Nashoba. And over there, across the street, is Classic Pizza III." the boy pointed to a small, square building with large windows opposite of the school. The parking lot was deserted.
"Classic Pizza III? Where are the others?" Spock asked, buying time as he computed the best strategy for exiting the tree without the adoring boy-child following.
"No, there never were any, I think. They just named it that when they set up here. The pizza tastes...weird...there..." mused the boy. "I think the hormones in it are what's stopped my armpit hair from growing."
"Your hypothesis seems logical, although it cannot be verified until the chemicals are properly analyzed and a report is filed," Spock said sympathetically.
"The food there tastes weird."
The boy and the Vulcan stared across the street at the squat white building with twin shivers of horror. Spock looked down at the tri-corder for data, but it was out of power. He flipped it over and observed that Kirk had taken out the batteries and had been storing his partially-chewed gum in the battery slot. Spock sighed. First his phaser, now his tri-corder. He wondered how Kirk had ever managed to have been issued a Captaincy.
"Hey, is that chewing-gum? Can I have some?" asked the boy. Spock ignored him. Logically, being transported back in time to this remote location was the result of a serious error aboard the Enterprise. He would have to attempt contact to warn the rest of the crew. Spock took out his communicator.
"Spock to Enterprise," he said. "Come in, Enterprise." He swung himself down from the tree and landed beside the boy, who goggled at him.
"Spock to Enterprise. Can you read me," he paused to pinch a nerve on the boy's neck, rendering him unconscious. "Enterprise?"