A/N After having spent the weekend in Yellowstone, I would just like to mention: We live on an AWESOME planet.

Sorry again for the cliffhanger. But now I can give you some epic-ness to make up for it. No promises on this, I got the Plague (fortunately AFTER I got back) so I feel like I've been hit by a shuttlecraft going warp 10 and my brain is floating in gunk. The good news is; I'm stuck in bed. Thus I can probably crank out quite a bit (if the meds don't knock me out) So hopefully I can supply you with enough chapters to make up for my little hiatus.

And yes, I DO know where our boys are going in this fic. Gonna be a bit Pete-n-Soral-centric for a bit, but we'll see our favorite crew later on.

Reviews would make me *cough gag sneeze* feel a lot better about being *cough* stuck in bed.

Also, forgot to mention in last chapter: the idea for the Vulcan disguise came from Aashlee Elizabeth let's give her a hand for a brilliant suggestion which I promptly stole and ran with *claps*.

Peter's mind couldn't quite come to terms with the figure before him. He had seen his roommate look somewhat "ticked" before, (like the time he had "borrowed" Soral's jacket and promptly lost it somewhere in San Francisco) but the Vulcan version of "ticked" was usually just a hard stare and a slight frown followed by mumblings that contained the words "Human senselessness."

This was completely different.

His roommate's face held no expression, but his eyes looked like they could bore a hole through Tritanium. He was breathing heavily, with his fist clenched. Peter could almost feel the waves of power that Soral was holding in tight control. He had known Vulcans had once been a violent warrior species, but he'd always had trouble imagining it… until now.

Soral knelt down beside him.

"You are injured," his said in clipped words.

"S'Ok, just got some skin I think."

Soral as good as said "do you think I'm stupid?" with the look he leveled at him. He tore open Peter's sleeve oblivious to the shocked looks he was receiving from passersby.

Laceration approximately 3 inches deep, blood flowing freely from the wound. A Human Peter's age and weight could likely only lose 3 pints before the injury proved fatal. He tore off a strip of his uniform and wrapped Peter's arm. The blade was no doubt contaminated. Infection was highly possible.

"We must get you to a Medical Facility."

"Just Academy Medical, don't wanna go to hospital," Peter gritted his teeth as he struggled to stand up. Soral steadied him with one hand,

"I'll manage. It's just my arm, not my legs."

The two began to walk slowly back. Soral refused to acknowledge the astonished looks the two received as they made their way to the nearest Transport Terminal.

Peter swallowed down another wave of nausea, and wondered if Soral was aware that he was 89% likely to be puked on. If he was, he clearly chose to ignore it.

They at last reached the Transportation Terminal. Unfortunately, the late hour ensured that there was a long line waiting to use it. Soral marched undaunted to the front, ignoring the grumbles and swearing shot his way.

"My friend is injured, we need an Emergency Transport to Starfleet Academy. Coordinates 000.3.4967."

The Transporter Chief blinked at the sight of this Vulcan and his "friend" who had pointed ears, a green tinged face, and a red stained arm. A question died on his lips as Soral stepped forward and said crisply, "Now." He motioned for them to step on the platform, and wrote off the incident as one of life's little mysteries.

Ooo

"Well let's see it," Bones said leaning in to the viewscreen.

Peter unwrapped his arm and showed off the rather nasty looking gash.

"You're a Kirk alright," Bones frowned, "But if you actually take your hypo-regimen like you're supposed to, it won't scar."

"You sure you're alright?" Jim asked.

"Yeah," Peter sighed replacing his bandage, "Just fighting some red tape over the whole thing."

"Surely Starfleet Academy is not holding you or Soral responsible for the unfortunate incident," Spock stepped in.

"Well… they are. Actually they are more upset that I wandered around the campus as a Vulcan. I think they're worried I'll mention something that'll embarrass them. Tomorrow I get called to the carpet for a long lecture on Vulcan/Earth Relations and how my actions could have far reaching consequences… yeah it's a mess."

"What about Soral?" Kirk asked.

"I told them the whole thing was my idea, and he had just tagged along to keep me out of trouble. They should leave him alone."

"Well," Kirk said, "I've done much worse and I'm still around. Just be honest and straightforward. Take the lecture, and then move on."

"Yeah… I seriously don't need any more crap to happen right now. We got a Training Cruise in two days, finals on Friday, not to mention the Ambassador is breathing down my neck about this speech. And now I got to tell him that I may or may not get to give it because I had the audacity to try and be a Vulcan for one day."

"Just try to get some rest, things will look up tomorrow," Jim said.

"And if they don't; I'll personally sign a Medical Statement saying you need a weeks vacation on Risa," Bones piped it.

"That'd be nice! Thanks guys, I'll keep you posted."

The transmission ended and the three shared the same look.

"I can think of no specific regulation that Peter has broken," Spock said thoughtfully.

"But he made them look bad," Kirk sighed, "And voice of experience: they hate that."

"He's a Kirk. All he has to do is flash that smile and act like his usual cocky self and he'll get out of it," Bones said, but they all knew that was wishful thinking.

"My hands are tide," Kirk sighed, "I can't go asking for personal favors or leniency on my nephew. I don't think Starfleet would appreciate it, and I know Peter wouldn't."

"That doesn't mean we can't throw an ever-loving fit if they try to sack his speech," Bones jumped in, "If they're smart they'll leave the whole thing alone."

Lady Amanda normally ignored incoming transmissions that came in after she had retired to bed. Those were always for Sarek anyways. However, she made an exception for anything coming from Earth.

When her communications panel chimed she eagerly answered it; looking forward to another long chat with Peter. She was greeted instead with the grim face of Soral.

"The most honored Lady Amanda," He greeted, "I ask pardon for the lateness of the hour, however I have need to speak with Ambassador Sarek."

"The Ambassador has been called to duty and will not return until tomorrow. I am afraid outside communication is prohibited… however… I do have the ability to get in contact with him, if the matter is of urgency."

Soral shifted slightly, "I am… uncertain… if such drastic action is necessary. It is simply a matter involving Mr. Kirk that could affect his research. As the Ambassador has shown some interest in the project, I had assumed he would wish to know of this development."

"Is Peter alright?"

"He was injured, however the lingering physical damage was minimal."

Amanda pursed her lips. Speaking with Soral reminded her of many similar conversations she had had with her son over the years. Whenever Spock was in trouble, or needed help, he would behave in much the same way. Fortunately, being a mother, she knew how to get a Vulcan to spill it.

Three hours and forty-six minutes later the transmission finally ended. Soral paused momentarily in wonder at himself. He had certainly not expected to tell The Lady Amanda so much. Nor had he expected the conversation to take the turn it had.

"I… fought them off," he had finally admitted, "I lost control…"

"If you had not, Peter may well have been killed."

That simple sentence came bursting through his troubled thoughts with striking clarity. He had been taught that to lose control of one's emotions was a sign of weakness. At first, he'd berated himself for having done so, and considered it proof that he had become too accustomed to being on Earth. Yet… if he had not…. Peter might have been killed. That couldn't happen. Not to Peter.

But why? Peter was one of the 1,245 Humans he came into contact with daily. He hadn't seemed any different from the others at first. Kirk indulged in recreation that was neither healthy nor productive, became distracted easily, often procrastinated, seldom learned his subjects thoroughly, his side of the room was often in disarray, not to mention he had the tendency to intentionally behave in such a way to make himself as disturbing as possible.

Yet… despite the fact that Peter hadn't yet memorized how to calculate phase variances, he had gone to great lengths to learn about Vulcan Culture. Though he seemed unconcerned when it came to interacting with his female interest in public, he had reverently changed the subject after asking about Vulcan mating traditions. And though his "teasing" often proved to be an interruption… it was a welcome one.

Peter Kirk had attacked the idea of Vulcan/Human friendships with a tenacity that Soral had been unprepared for. His admission that Peter fit the definition of a "friend" had surprised him, but not nearly as much as when he admitted that Peter reminded him of his brother. Peter was certainly not Se'tek… and yet his inquisitiveness, stubbornness, and persistence were comparable. That was why… why he couldn't calmly watch Peter be attacked. He had already lost a brother once; he did not wish to again.

Spock,

I don't have time to figure out the Vulcan wording for this, so I'm afraid you're stuck with this very Human letter.

Thank you. SO MUCH.

I don't know how much time you must have spent going over the Regs, but I'm sure it was a lot. Obviously, I'd have never managed to find that little line about "leniency with regards to purposes of research or experiments" Soral says that should be a big enough loop-hole for me to jump through. Well, obviously he didn't say it quite like that, but you get the idea.

I have to go now, I gotta be there in 15 minutes. But even if it doesn't work out, I just wanted to say Thanks for doing that for me.

Also, you don't have to answer that last question I sent you about why you risk your life for Jim and vise-versa… I already figured out the answer.

-Peter

It had been 4 hours and 23 minutes, and the Admiral was still giving Peter a very thorough lecture. Soral had presented Mr. Spock's findings, only to be "told off" (as Peter worded it) and was afterward told to remain seated while Peter took the brunt of the Academy's embarrassment.

He reached in his pocket and held on to the communicator. Logic told him that the message he awaited could not be hastened by his holding on to the instrument. But… it was the only thing he could do. There was an 89.4% probability that the Ambassador would not get the message before the panel had finished punishing Kirk. The likelihood that he would be able to respond in time was significantly worse. However, Spock had tried to reassure him with the words: there are always possibilities. Hence, his grip tightened on the communicator, and Soral waited.

15.6 minutes later he felt the welcome vibration.

"Sir," he said standing, "I have a message from the Ambassador of Vulcan."

The Admiral's mouth fell open mid-yell, his face grew bug-eyed and red. Soral approached and handed him the message:

I, Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan, have personally endorsed the research of Peter Kirk and Soral. Though their methods may be somewhat unconventional, the results proved a success. After having gone over the records, I can see no clear evidence of any violation of Starfleet Protocol. I therefore strongly suggest, in the interest of Vulcan/Earth relations, that these two be granted pardon for any perceived or imagined error.

"That… was… amazing," Peter finally gasped after the two returned to their quarters.

"It was unexpected for the Admiral to have ignored the clear evidence that had been gathered."

"That's not was I meant… I meant you were amazing! How in the Universe did you get the Ambassador to write that out?"

"I merely acquainted him with the details of what had transpired. In the interest of continuing this research, I felt such action was necessary."

"So I owe you twice now."

"You owe me nothing."

"Yeah I do! You keep saving my butt!"

"If my analysis of your personality is correct, you would likewise attempt to… save specific parts of my anatomy... if such a situation presented itself."

Peter laughed, "You bet. Let's just hope we don't make a habit of getting in fights. People keep saying we're like Kirk and Spock enough as it is."

"I consider such statements to be complimentary."

"So do I…"

Dear Uncle Jim,

Well, I survived my first Court Martial… which wasn't really a Court Martial, more of a sound flogging. Honestly wouldn't have changed a thing about it, though. I found it rather amusing to watch the Admiral squirm after he got the Ambassador's message. I got off with a warning and a semi-scathing lecture (The one I got from Grandma after I crashed the air-cycle was infinitely worse by comparison) and the good news is, I still get to give my report.

Found out who my Flight Partner is for the Practice Run. Soral. Surprise Surprise. We are gonna do the standard Jovian Run, (hoping I can convince Soral to let me try my hand at Titan's Turn), and then I believe we are slotted to do a meet-and-greet on some obscure planet I've never heard of. (Good thing Soral's the navigator.) We get more of the details later.

Anyway, just wanted to say "Thanks" for everything, and to let you know things are okay.

Soral is giving me that look again. He's been attempting to cram phase variance calculations in my head. Finals coming up, you know. Better get back to it.

Thanks again,

Your Nephew,

Peter

PS Think the Enterprise could be near Earth in time for my speech?

"Come on! Titan's Turn is like a right of passage for pilots!" Peter grinned as the two flew their small shuttle towards Saturn.

"I recall hearing a rather stern warning with regards to that maneuver."

"Well yeah, it's not for novices. I mean granted, you have to accelerate almost directly towards Titan, and then graze the moon's atmosphere before turning sharply around the limb at 0.7 c… But I got me a Vulcan Navigator. I'm not scared."

"A Vulcan Navigator does increase the chances of success by 26.3% However, factoring in a Human Pilot negates it."

Peter laughed, "You made that up. Come on! I wanna tell Jim I beat his record!"

For perhaps the third time that morning, Soral briefly contemplated creating his own list of "100 Very Human Behaviors Peter Kirk Exhibits" His strange attraction to danger was definitely #1. The most remarkable thing was he knew that in approximately 14 minutes Peter Kirk would likely have his way.

13.5 Minutes later the shuttle was shooting directly for Saturn's moon.

"YEEEEEEHAAAAAAAW!" Peter shouted as the shuttle swung around like a sling-shot. Soral found the noise oddly fitting for the sensation of flying almost uncontrollably towards the stars beyond.

"Now tell me that wasn't fun!" Peter puffed as he deftly maneuvered the shuttle back on course.

"It was… exhilarating."

"Ha! Does Vulcan have a phrase for "Yeehaw?"

"Negative."

"Well… we oughta make one!"

"It is presumptuous to assume one can create a word that will solidify itself into the lexicon of a language, particularly one as old as Vulcan."

"You know, the Klingon word for "relentless-enemy" is "Jams-T'-Kirk!"

Soral gave him the you-are-seriously-stupid-if-you-think-I-fell-for-that look until Peter couldn't hold back the laughter, "Okay, okay it was worth a shot."

Soral recalculated their arrival time and altered the course slightly. His roommate had only been in the shuttlecraft for 1 hour and 23 minutes and yet he was already showing signs of restlessness.

"We have 10.9 hours left before we arrive at Gladonga. Perhaps our time could be better utilized going over our research."

"Okay," Peter sobered a bit, "I actually do have something I wanna talk to you abo—"

He was cut off by the shuttles instant lurch forward. "Woah!"

A small part of Soral's mind wondered at Peter's continual use of phrases generally reserved for equestrian settings, before his focus shifted to his instruments' erratic readings.

"I've lost maneuvering thruster control on the Port side!"

"Acknowledged, I can get no clear data on the angle of our trajectory. However, I believe we are on a direct course with one of Driaka's moons."

"I can't change course! What is the atmosphere of Driaka?"

"If memory serves, it is Class P. Glacial with atmosphere consisting of nitrogen, oxygen and trace elements."

"I'll take your word for it," Peter gritted his teeth as he tried to plunge the shuttle to the Starboard, "I've got next to no handling on this thing, and I'm flying blind. I need you to give me feedback, Navigator."

"Acknowledged. Try to keep the shuttle turned to Starboard and release thruster power on my mark… 3… 2… 1"

The craft nosedived as it caught the planet's gravity and plunged towards the icy surface below.

A/N Don't worry. I'm writing the next chapter as you read this. But some reviews would keep me going :)