It takes nine days for Kirk to disobey his first order.
The anomaly is part mechanical and part…something else. It initially appears to be little more than a collection of debris, the extraterrestrial junkyard of the nearby populated system. But when the Enterprise gets too close, the broken bits of hull and depleted warp nacelles begin to shift until they are like unto long curving arms, drawing the ship closer. An energy field of indeterminate origin flares up and their warp capability blinks out, smothered. Lieutenant Sulu struggles to reverse their course with thrusters alone, but has little success against their slow drag towards the anomaly's center. Now visible past the thick layers of obfuscating refuse, it pulses, bright and massive.
"Captain," Nyota calls with sudden urgency. "There's a subspace signal coming from the…core. At first I thought it was just interference, but-" She tilts her head, favoring the left side where her comm bud is inserted, a familiar posture of concentration that Spock has always found charming despite the fact that it logically does not benefit her hearing at all. "There's a uniform pattern. It has- cadence, sir."
"Are you proposing, lieutenant, that this anomaly is speaking—that it is a living being?"
She purses her lips. "I don't know, sir. I can't be sure."
Spock is considering this when Sulu slams his hands against the helm in frustration.
"We're not moving under our own power at all anymore, sir," he reports. "Whatever's animating all of this trash, holding it together, our thrusters aren't strong enough to push back."
The chatter of the various bridge officers communicating back and forth, receiving and transmitting systems reports from all parts of the ship, is a dull hum at the back of Spock's consciousness.
"Mister Kirk, status."
Spock's first officer grimaces at his tactical station.
"Shields are holding, but there's no knowing what'll happen if we get sucked into that thing. Photon torpedoes are locked." Kirk's hands hover over the controls, barely waiting for confirmation.
"Hold fire," Spock orders evenly.
"We have to do something! If not we'll-"
"Much as there is no way that we can be certain what will happen if we are dragged into the center of the anomaly, we cannot be certain what effect a photon detonation will have on the anomaly. And that is without considering the possibility that it may be sentient. Hold your fire, Mister Kirk."
Kirk's stare is hard, but Spock is unmoved.
"Ensign Hadley," he continues, swiveling his chair to the face the science station. "You have full spectrum analyses of the energy signature do you not?"
"Yes, sir," she replies, blonde hair whipping as she spins to look at him.
"Are you capable of recalibrating the deflector shield polarity counter to those readings?"
Understanding immediately dawns on the ensign's face as she nods. "That could make it act as a repulsor for the debris that's encasing us. Yes, sir! I can also redirect some power from the thrusters to strengthen the field."
"Do so, please."
Spock presses the comm button on his armrest as the ship suddenly shudders.
"Engineer Scott, report."
"She's still not responding, Captain!" comes Montgomery Scott's heavily accented voice. "Whatever this thing is, it's not just dampening the warp core anymore. It's starting to leech our energy stores."
As if on cue, the ship shakes again, this time more violently. Enough so that Spock is nearly thrown from his chair. Gasps, yells, and thuds around him make apparent that he is not alone.
"Captain, our movement towards the center mass of the anomaly is accelerating exponentially!" Ensign Chekov reports just as Spock says, "Red alert. Everyone remain at your stations."
The bridge is washed in blinking red as the sound of screeching metal rings through the air.
"The field is constricting. It's going to force all this junk to breach the hull!" Kirk asserts, but Spock is only half-listening.
"Ensign Hadley!" he demands.
"Almost there, sir," is her reply, her brow furrowed in concentration as her hands fly over the controls.
The ship shakes again.
He does not speak loudly, but Spock picks up Kirk's protest nevertheless: "It's taking too long."
When he yells "Firing torpedoes!" however, everyone hears.
Colors ripple along the surface of the anomaly at the points of impact. Lights flare as those bits of the mass sink in on themselves. Nyota gasps in pain and when Spock looks she's snatched the comm out of her ear, wincing. The anomaly dims, then burns brighter than ever as it explodes with light. A shockwave heads directly for them as the trash cocooning the Enterprise falls away.
"Mr. Sulu-" Spock begins.
"On it, sir," Sulu responds absently, his attention focused entirely on the controls. The ship keens, cants, and nineteen silent seconds pass before it levels out in open space.
"Rear view," Spock orders.
The viewscreen switches instantly back to the anomaly. Or where it had been. The tightly packed nest of ship parts and scrap has been thoroughly scattered. Pieces spin out alone into space, dying currents of energy running along their surfaces.
"Stand down red alert," Spock mutters as he rises. The bridge shines, pristine white, once more. Spock faces Kirk's station, his stare unwavering.
"I ordered you to hold your fire, Lieutenant. You could have set off any number of unpredictable chain reactions."
"But I didn't. And the ship was about to be destroyed, Captain," Kirk sneers, standing himself.
Spock maintains his control. "Your hyperbole is unnecessary and your argument invalid. The situation was being addressed."
"We were a little stretched for time if you didn't notice."
Spock turns and retakes his seat. "Your services will not be required for the rest of the shift, Lieutenant Kirk. Lieutenant Masters, please relieve him."
Masters nods and mumbles a rote "yes, sir" as she slides into the chair that Kirk has just vacated.
Spock doesn't watch as Kirk strides off of the bridge.
He is one of few.
oOo
When alpha shift ends, Spock summons Kirk to his ready room. The other man enters apparently in no better mood than he was hours earlier. Spock steeples his fingers as he rests his elbows on his desk, but Kirk does not wait for him to speak.
"I made a judgment call."
Spock very nearly fights a losing battle against scoffing. "As your commanding officer was present and my judgment in no way impaired, such an action was neither required of you or welcome, which was made clear when I gave you a direct order against it."
Kirk eyes him and crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair.
"Why did you even pick me as your XO?"
Spock pauses at the sudden change in tactic.
"I do not see how that is relevant to this discussion."
"Oh, it's relevant," Kirk says and he does, in fact, scoff. "You don't even like me, so why the hell did you pick me?"
"Under this rationale, one might pose the question of why you accepted given that you clearly are not especially fond of me either."
"It's the Enterprise," he says and shrugs.
It strikes Spock as odd that that could be the answer to so many questions.
They sit in silence, both considering, though Spock has few guesses about what exactly Kirk is thinking. When Spock does speak, he measures his words carefully.
"Besides being firmly against the most basic of regulations, strife between the ship's captain and first officer is hurtful to both crew cohesion and the efficient operation of the ship in question."
"Yeah. It's a bitch isn't it?" Kirk agrees.
oOo
Every two days, Spock makes a point to take at least one meal in the mess. The table that he chooses offers an unobstructed view of the door and three-quarters of the rest of the room. He nods acknowledgment at crewmembers who meet his gaze.
Traditional Starfleet instruction regarding creation of an optimum shipboard environment holds that a captain must stand apart from their crew, but not entirely. Their behavior should ideally command respect and awe, while also maintaining the perception that they can be appealed to directly for support should it ever be required.
To be detached, yet accessible is a very human sort of contradiction but, in this case, there is an underlying logic. A captain must know their crew. When dealing with species lacking emotional control this knowledge is insufficient if it is limited entirely to their professional capabilities. Realistically, those professional capabilities will not be all that influences their work.
Traditional instruction also holds that the ship's first officer is vital to the captain with regard to this process.
By regulation, the first officer operates as the primary arbiter for most personnel matters onboard ship. Following this, and without the weight of the captain's position, they are better equipped to gather more detailed and extensive information. But Spock's situation is not traditional and he does not have the benefit of anything but his first officer's most basic and grudging cooperation. He has no delusions that Jim Kirk will ever arrive in his office to provide him unofficial reports on personnel in order to assist him in increasing his knowledge of his crew. So Spock does what he must himself.
Though his ability to understand the ins and outs of human behavior has always been somewhat limited, his observational skills are unmatched. As such, he watches. Spock watches and keeps a mental catalogue of things that he perceives but of which he cannot discern the full significance. He knows that there yet more subtleties that evade him entirely, but the effort itself is a learning experience. He sees rivalries, friendships, and probable assignations.
He sees that Ensign Chekov experiences some measure of discomfort if Lieutenant Sulu or Ensign Koothrapali from Stellar Cartography are not among those present when he is in the mess. This, Spock determines, is likely contributed to Pavel Chekov's youth and will solve itself once the young navigator has opportunities to become better acquainted with other members of the crew.
He sees the manner in which Nurse Christine Chapel often regards Doctor McCoy and the fact that on some occasions when the doctor notices her eyes on him she only seems to stare harder, challenging. Which of them looks away first changes almost daily. Spock is uncertain whether this is something that will be relevant to the performance of their duties, but determines that he should monitor the situation nevertheless.
He sees the obvious anxiety in Ensign Hadley's bearing when she becomes the first person to take a seat at his table with him and attempt to engage him in conversation. She asks after possible adjustments to her console. Not an official request, as of yet; merely an inquiry as to his opinion. He offers it, and a few other suggestions besides, and though she does not remain for the entirety of the meal, he considers it a triumph. Moreso when others slowly begin to follow suit.
He sees that crewmembers who join Jim Kirk's table, on those occasions when he is present, do not also stop to speak with Spock immediately before or after doing so. He is put in mind of references Nyota made to her primary education and the lines invisible, yet understood, inevitably drawn in school cafeterias. Nonetheless, while Spock does not fear he is in danger of being declared excessively approachable by any member of the crew, he believes that he has been successful in establishing they that they can come, if necessary.
He tries not to see Nyota, but finds that there is little that he can do to prevent it. He senses her presence and his eyes inevitably follow his mind's preoccupation. They were never bonded, but their closeness, both physically and emotionally, had its consequences. Frequent melding, particularly of the sort in which they engaged, can create a connection. Spock doubts that Nyota feels it. She is not psi-sensitive and further, he imagines that if she did experience a similarly heightened awareness of him, she would have requested that he do something to undo it after the final dissolution of their relationship. If nothing else, she has proven to be disinclined towards reminders of what they were.
It is frustrating and there is a knot of dread within him that meditation seems incapable of banishing. He perpetually anticipates the day when his observations lead him to consider the probability of a romantic connection between her and some other crewmember. Even barring that, he does not wish to see new relationships that she is forming in her life without him.
She sits with Christine Chapel approximately 83% of the time. On more than half of those occasions they are joined by Lieutenants Masters and Sulu, and Ensigns Chekov and Hadley. An assorted collection of other bridge officers and crewmembers from both the communications bay and engineering are present at varying intervals. If Nyota notices the frequency with which he watches her, she does not acknowledge it. Even when members of her group speak directly with him prior to joining her, Nyota does not discuss him that he can discern. When they were engaged in their relationship, such public and casual discussion on her part is not something he would ever have desired. Now, he craves it, if only to present him with some manner of data about her state of mind.
Her work is as efficient and exemplary as ever and whatever feelings she may or may not have do not seem to factor at all into her ability to follow his command. Once, after presenting her internal communications reports for the day to him, she pauses in her departure only to gaze at him for a long moment before earnestly informing him that he is "doing a good job." No other such overtures follow and Spock does not know whether to interpret it as personal or professional encouragement.
Spock has turned the original conundrum of their positions over in his mind again and again and knows that he will never arrive at a more suitable resolution than he has. But every time he attempts to speak to Nyota about it, she is unreceptive. On three different occasions, she accepts his request to converse with her privately. On all three occasions, she listens to him only long enough for him to begin elucidating on his proposed solution before she interrupts him. It appears to be neither out of outright anger or impatience. She addresses him firmly by his rank and they both understand that this immediately, unavoidably and non-negotiably, brings a close to any personal discussion in which he is attempting to engage.
There is something that she wishes to hear from him that he is not saying, he comes to understand. Unfortunately, he does not come to understand what that something is.
In the greater scheme of his captaincy, these failures with regard to his erstwhile lover affect his work no more than they affect hers. But for all of the challenges of his job--most of which he actually finds stimulating--and the progress he makes towards becoming a better officer and a better leader, Spock knows that work alone ceased to be enough for him years ago.
When all is said, his command is solitary and he has become too well acclimated to sharing his life. His fears about his other self are ever-present in his thoughts, and he wonders if some things truly are unavoidable.
oOo
Spock does not inquire about what his double told Kirk regarding the alternate timeline—or their alternate lives—while they were on Delta Vega.
Kirk offers no insight into the matter.