2258 - August 12th 1930

Chris laughed softly as the Older Spock explained how he became her friend. "I cannot believe we didn't meet until the Enterprise." She exclaimed. "But that doesn't surprise me one bit I tripped into you."

The smile on the wizened face made her smile wider. "You never did explain why you tripped into me." He said softly. "You are not a clumsy person."

She snickered. "If I'd met My Spock under different circumstances… I could see myself deliberately tripping into him."

Those eyes widened. "It was deliberate?"

Chris nodded. "Probably wanted to see if you were as built under that uniform as I imagine My Spock is." She winked.

His eyes had a far away look. "That insight is… helpful to understanding."

"So is he? Were you?" She asked teasingly.

"'Built'?" He asked, his eyes twinkling with his amusement. She nodded. "I was, and still am, very strong, yes."

Chris rolled her eyes. "So not what I meant, and you know it." She quipped. "But I'll let it slide, since you seem determined not to answer my questions."

"I shall answer some, just… not that one." He answered. But his eyes said another story… he wasn't entirely sure of something.

She frowned slightly. "You know, I think Spock is attractive for a number of reasons. His easy grace, his tender heart, his eyes," she grinned, "the ears." She blushed. "His hands." She locked her eyes with the elder Spock's. "I know he's proably not… swimsuit model ripped. But that's a GOOD thing." She gently touched his arm. "I'm quite sure the other me felt the same."

The older man sighed. "You are too perceptive, Chris. You see so much about the pain and affections of others. But when it comes to the affections others feel for you… you are as oblivious as any Vulcan."

She sniffed, acting offended. "Was that an insult, a compliment, or a bit of both?"

"It was a compliment and an observation, never an insult." Was the smooth, heart-felt reply. He glanced at the clock. "We ought to focus on what it is you wish to learn."

She sighed and rolled her eyes but nodded. "But I was having fun." She complained lightly.

Those eyes, so familiar but so not, smiled brighter. "As was I, T'hy'la, as was I. But the time is short."

Chris felt… odd when he called her the endearment. She liked hearing it, in the context that he used it in. She just wished her Spock would be the one to say it. "Alright," she sighed, "So, what's the trick to it?"

There was a particular smile. "Simply do not actively think of it. And if it is an emotion… simply focus on a different one."

"That's like saying 'don't think of the number 10'." She said, laughing.

"I do not understand." He said.

She rolled her eyes. "If you say that to a human, all they can think of is the number 10."

He smiled. "I see the conundrum. But you are part Vulcan, and trust me when I say, you can do this quite well."

"So… it's just… practicing?" She asked and he nodded. "Yea… I guess we could do that. What should be my number 10?"

His eyes smiled. "Have you thought of a Christmas gift for my younger self?"

He reached forward and touched her hand. The shock of that touch made her startle for a moment. She could feel his mind, brushing against hers, overlapping very slightly. She looked into herself and 'saw' her own mind and where theirs over lapped.

'Christmas?' came the soft echo in her mind.

'Halloween' she replied, decidedly NOT thinking about Christmas and her anxiousness for the holiday. 'I don't know what I want to be yet.' She confided through their bond. 'I'm thinking of bullying you into dressing up… The younger you. Maybe I'll get Jim to make it a ship wide order…'

She felt the mental laughter. Like her Spock, his mind was dark and warm, but it was… less … something. There was something different between the two, nothing vital, or devastating, just a subtle… something. 'Age, my T'hy'la, it is the age and experience difference.' He explained. 'What about Christmas?' He prompted.

Instead she thought of her Spock, saw him in her minds eye, and began 'seeing' him in different costumes. A chicken suit, as the front half of a cow, the back half of a cow, a cowboy, an angel, a devil… The last two were met by mental laughter.

'Christmas' He prompted again. Her mind wandered slightly, she saw Sarek's face as he walked her to her Me'Me's…

'How about a superhero?' She asked, focusing again on Spock and Halloween. She saw him as Superman, then Spiderman, them Batman. She grinned. 'He can be Batman, I'll be Cat Woman.'

'I would not have worn spandex for you until many years into the relationship. Good luck with that endeavor.' He thought back at her.

'I AM many years into the relationship. We have been friends for years.' She quipped back.

That gave him some pause. 'Christmas?' He asked and her mind wandered to images of Amanda, a scrapbook…

'DANG IT!' She thought, pulling her hand from his and breaking their connection. "Arg, I thought I was doing so well…"

There was an indulgent smile. "You are much better, in fact, than I anticipated. How many times have you let Spock into your mind thus?"

She shrugged. "If it's every time we touch, skin to skin… maybe half a dozen or so times. But I've only really felt it twice." It didn't bother her much to think that he could have heard her thoughts. He was her friend… she loved him… she trusted him.

The older Spock looked contemplative. "You are… much closer than my Chris and I were far sooner. And yet you have not reached the romantic duality yet."

Chris shrugged. "There's something to be said for being the best of friends first, I guess. And I still maintain that friends is all we'll remain. Because unless he's hiding something from my empathy… He doesn't love me, and I won't risk our friendship. It means too much." She surprised them both when she kissed the older Vulcan's cheek. "Tomorrow?"

He nodded. "Yes, tomorrow." As she turned and walked away he called after her. "Chris, the scrapbook idea. He will be most appreciative. As will Sarek."

She blushed but nodded. "Thanks, I guess I needed to hear that."

2258 – August 13th 0128 Hours

Spock lay, or rather sprawled, atop his regulation-standard bed pallet. It was not often that he required sleep, he was part Vulcan after all, but he had felt the deep fatigue that generally meant his body required rest. He was deeply and soundly asleep, looking much less like the stoic half-Vulcan First officer of the Enterprise and much more like the young man he really was.

Sadly the peace was not to last for Spock that night. A shrill, high, piercing siren filled the air as the room pulsed with a red light. Spock launched off his pallet, his pale, bare chest heaving in his surprise. Instantly he realized what was happening and his breathing slowed, his dilated pupils narrowed, his heart rate slowed.

Immediately he knew what was going on, red alert had been activated. Something was very, very wrong. He lunged out of bed, grabbed his uniform.

"Spock to bridge." He said, sharply. "What is the situation?" He tugged his sleep pants off and pulled on his uniform underwear and pants.

"Mr Spock," said the panicked voice of his Night shift Science Station personnel, a lieutenant… something… "Three accounts of piracy in the last five minutes by passing merchant vessels."

Spock scowled. "And you idiots called Red alert for THAT?" He asked like he was talking to a child… maybe he was. But he did not stop dressing. He began on his boots.

"Original reports indicate that they might have been Klingon, sir." The petulant reply came after a few moments of silence.

"I shall come to relieve you in a few moments." He informed the idiot, stepping from his room purposefully, dressed and perfectly groomed. And walked right into Chris.

She bounced off his chest, stumbling. He grasped her elbows in his hands, pulling her upright. "Helluva way to start the day." She said, smiling wryly at him. They stepped together into the turbolift and he looked her over.

Her cheeks were flushed emerald, the vein in her neck pulsed rapidly, her eyes were tired, she wore her night clothes, a sweater, and her communicator badge. He frowned slightly at her, the barest down turn of his lips.

"Spock, just don't. It's way to early to bitch about my clothing." She tipped her head back against the wall of the tiny room. "Some of us can't control our immediate fear responses."

"You do quite well." He replied softly.

Her lips curled into a smile and he was at peace for half a second… and then the doors to the bridge opened. It was, generally, chaos. Together they stepped onto the bridge.

"Alright, shut up and calm the hell down!" Chris barked, pitching her voice in a way that made Spock want to jump and do exactly as she said. He shot her a look and she winked. Everyone in the room stopped and looked at her. "All non-essential personnel, get the hell of the bridge! You'd think we weren't expecting this!"

The crew, which had been running around like chickens with their heads cut off, settled. The turbo lift opened and Chekov and Sulu stepped into the room. Spock sat at his station and began studying the readings.

He did not need to look up to know that Chris made her was around the slowly emptying room. He could hear her footfalls, could hear the slow shift of clothing as crewmen slowly relaxed and calmed. She passed him, her fingers absently brushing his back too, he glanced up and she blushed green, realizing, he thought, that she had touched him… that she was actively making him at peace. She snatched her hand away.

"Sorry." She murmured.

He silently shook his head and turned his eyes back to his console. The charts and readouts all said the same thing. There had been three pirate attacks in apparent unison, scattered around the galaxy. One report, spotty at best, claimed it might have been either Klingon or Romulan. Which said exactly how little the reporting tactical officer's knowledge was as Klingons were NOTHING like Romulans.

The turbolift hissed open and Jim stepped onto the bridge. "Mr. Spock, what's the status. I heard so idiot blathering about Klingons."

"He is, indeed, an idiot Captain." Spock said firmly, keeping his sickly colored annoyance at bay. Chris snickered, settling into her seat beside Jim. "There was a single report in which an officer thought it may be either Romulan or Klingon."

Jim looked confused. "Aren't they like… not at all similar?"

"That is correct, Captain." He answered.

Jim frowned. "Chekov, Spock, can you make a decent guess for their trajectory and maybe see if their ion trails point to any particular ship make?"

"Aye, Aye, Keptain." Chekov said swiftly, his fingers tapping.

Spock let the mathematician backtrack their ion trail, he focused on running the necessary scans to determine possible make of the ship. Ion trails were not distinctive, like human fingerprints, but certain engines produced certain ion trails. And some engines were VERY indicative of certain races or groups.

"Keptain, sir. I haff determined where de are headed." His entire body trembling with the excitement he felt. Chris bit her lip to keep from grinning, wouldn't do for her to be grinning like a loon on their first big mission since Nero.

Jim felt a sudden vindictive satisfaction, he was looking forward to hunting down and slaughtering the pirates. "Good, give the coordinates to Sulu. Sulu, prepare to engage warp one." Jim turned to look at Spock. "Spock, what have you got?"

Chris looked at her friend, whose emotions she usually tried to block now, and noticed his slight wrinkle between his brows. "Captain they are… clearly Klingon ion signatures."

"Why does that bother you Spock?" She asked quickly, not letting Jim order Sulu after the pirates. Spock felt something… he was troubled.

"It is irrelevant." He retorted.

She sighed but Jim frowned. "No, no. Spock I'm big on intuition. If you've got a bad feeling about this- God only knows I can't believe I'm saying that- then you have to tell us."

"I do not believe in intuition." Spock argued.

Chris realized the best way to win him over was logic. "Spock, it's possible you sub-consciously noticed something that is illogical and you are feeling that. You simply have not consciously realized the flaw yet." She smiled patiently at him. "Tell us."

"The signatures are those belonging to WarBirds," Spock explained.

Chris frowned. "Isn't that weird? For pirates, who want to be ad… discreet as possible? To have engines belonging to our biggest enemies?"

"Yea…" Jim murmured.

Spock's eyes lit up and his brows smoothed. "Captain, it is a logical assumption that these 'pirates' are not pirates but Klingons using piracy as a means to draw us in."

"It's a trap!" Jim concluded, grinning like it was all his idea. Chris fought a smile.

"Do we go in then Captain?" Sulu asked, wary, "Now we know we might be able to turn their plan against them."

"The flaw in that logic, Sulu," Chris said, grinning at Spock, "is that we don't actually know their plans."

Uhura scowled. "There are no Klingon transmissions that I'm picking up. This was all planned in advance and they're working without direct communication."

Chris shuddered. That was bad… they were THAT organized? She could feel everyone's dread and it weighed heavily upon her. A hand brushed her neck discreetly and she was flooded with serenity. She glanced up and saw Spock walking past. He didn't look at her, or acknowledge that he had touched her, pulled her from her own mind.

Spock typed rapidly on a console and the main viewing screen became a sub-space map. Three red dots blinked slowly while a single green dot remained steady. "We are the green, the reported attacks all happened at approximately the same time, 0100 hours today. It is too great a distance for these attacks to be done by the same vessel. There are, without a doubt, at least three Klingon vessels. It is 95% likely that they are all Warbirds."

"Well," Jim murmured, "There goes the idea of storming into their midst, guns blazing."

"Not if you wouldn't be alright with going down in a blaze of glory." Chris added sarcastically.

Spock tensed and Jim glanced over his shoulder at her. They both had identical worried looks in their eyes, but Jim's whole face was worried.

"We wait them out." Jim ordered. "Remain on red alert and constantly monitor EVERYTHING. When they come back, which I am sure they will eventually, we need advanced warning. Because they will hit us hard, and they will hit us fast."

Bright blue eyes leveled at her. "Lieutenant Charis, please take the available time, and go get dressed in uniform then go see if the CMO needs any help. You've kept us calm long enough."

AN: Okay, tell me truthfully, did it suck? If it did I will HAPPILY rewrite and repost it. Constructive critism is not only welcomed, it's BEGGED for. I am aware action is my weak point. Help me to make both myself and my story better for you, my wonderful readers.

And hey… I posted twice today to reward all of you. Guess what we hit 1000 VISITORS to my story!!!