Jim Kirk stared at the Vulcan standing rigidly in his quarters. "A vacation."

"Yes, sir."

"You want a vacation."

Spock didn't answer, his gaze fastened somewhere on the wall over Jim's left shoulder. His absolute stillness conveyed to Jim his unease in making this request, or perhaps his embarrassment.

Jim rose from behind his desk to remove the artificial barrier between them. Jim was generally good with people, but Spock was, as always, the exception. As the only non-human member of the crew, and considering their particular history, Spock was one person Jim really wanted to avoid making a mistake with. Still, not knowing much about Vulcans, he invariably ended up rubbing him the wrong way more often than he would have liked.

Thoughtfully, he approached his First Officer. "I understood from Captain Pike that you had never before requested leave of any kind."

"Correct."

"Why now?"

Spock's face went even blanker than before. Worry spiked within Jim, sharp and disturbing. Maybe it was a private thing. Spock had tons of private things. Maybe Spock would resent him for asking about it, for treading disrespectfully on yet some other ancient Vulcan taboo—

Spock put him out of his misery by answering, "I have never had need of leave before."

"I see," Jim said softly, although he didn't. How could he? Spock was good at not telling Jim anything, even when it was in Jim's best interest to understand.

Back on that horrible first day that they'd met, the older Spock had revealed to Jim the extent of his friendship with Jim's counterpart in the alternate timeline. Following hard on the heels of the Kobayashi Maru debacle and the stranding of Jim on a hostile ice planet, Jim naturally didn't believe it. Spock hated him—at least enough to set Jim up for expulsion and, upon Jim's regaining the ship, throttle him nearly to death. But Jim was determined to hammer out, if not a deep friendship, then at least a functional working relationship with his enigmatic First Officer. And they seemed to be making strides. Spock hadn't once tried to murder him since Jim had officially assumed command. That indicated real progress.

And now, just as that relationship was beginning to coalesce, it was being cut off. With a sudden flash of dread, Jim thought he knew the reason.

"You're going to the colony." Even as he said it, the thought struck Jim with the force of certainty. Spock had changed his mind, and he was leaving Starfleet forever. Or at least for a year, which would be bad enough. Jim would have to pick new officers and change everybody around. And what about Uhura? Would she want to go with him? Crap, there went two of his most valuable bridge crew members in one blow.

It was disappointing on another level as well. In a reverse of the usual method, as time went on, Jim felt his guilt over the way he had wrenched command from Spock increase rather than lessen. True, Old Spock had told him to do it, but Jim was the one who'd actually done the deed. It was his responsibility. He and he alone had pushed Spock harder than anyone ought ever to be pushed—after he'd lost his planet and his mother, for crying out loud, right before his eyes. Jim's remorse over that act, necessary though it had proved, troubled him every time he looked Spock's way. Jim had planned to have at least a year to try to make up to his colleague for his actions. He'd hoped that, by laying a solid foundation of respect, he could regain some of that lost ground.

Now all those plans were scuttled. Spock was leaving forever, and Jim would be stuck in the quagmire of his regret for emotionally traumatizing, not only one of Starfleet's most brilliant officers, but one of the last Vulcans in existence who, even if he was annoying, didn't deserve to have his life ruined even more than it already was due to Jim's cutting words. His failure to make amends would haunt Jim forever, and didn't that suck—

Spock interrupted the runaway train of Jim's thoughts with a detached reply. "I have no intention of visiting New Vulcan at this time."

Jim's imagination jerked to a halt. "You don't."

"No, sir."

Well, that was a relief. At least, it was a relief until Jim had a moment to think about it, when uncertainty made him almost as nervous as he'd been before. "Where were you thinking of going?"

"Emagious III."

"Emagious—" Jim was brought up short. "That's unexplored."

"Initial long-range surveys indicate that the environment should be conducive to the support of humanoid lifeforms."

"That's... debatable."

"The raw data would tend to support the viability of further assessment."

"Spock, the reason Emagious III was bypassed is because it's way more massive than Earth. You'd be squashed if you set foot on the surface."

A flicker of... something, crossed Spock's face. Irritation? Impatience with a mind less encyclopedic than his own? But he spoke with measured restraint. "Your concern is exaggerated. The gravity is only 3.86% higher than Vulcan's."

Than Vulcan's was, Jim thought, although he didn't say it. He swiftly calculated the difference, using those round numbers that mere humans resorted to for their mathematical exercises. It made Emagious's gravity about 9% heavier than Earth's, which was significant but not unreasonable.

"I suppose that wouldn't bother you— as long as you don't mind carrying eight extra kilos of weight around with you everywhere you go."

"I would appreciate the challenge. One of my motives in taking leave at this time is to improve my general fitness."

"Improve your—" Jim blinked, then chuckled. "Well, it's a good thing I met you during your unfit period. Any higher level of fitness, and you'd have killed me!"

Spock simply stared straight ahead without answering— not that Jim had expected a response. He suppressed a sigh and went on with his interrogation. "So you want to visit a heavy, unexplored planet on your vacation. What do you expect to do there?"

Spock kept his gaze focused on the wall. "Survey it."

Jim started. "By yourself?"

"I would welcome the opportunity to engage in a productive occupation during my absence. However, provided that Starfleet is amenable, I would expect to accomplish only as much as is reasonable for a lone individual to achieve during such a sojourn."

Great word, sojourn. So why did it leave Jim with a sinking feeling in his stomach? Jim sat on the edge of his desk, facing Spock. "Okay. How long do you plan to stay?"

"Six weeks should be efficacious."

"Six weeks!" Jim's shout wasn't enough to make the Vulcan flinch, but Spock did seem to tense slightly. Jim found himself pacing—when had he stood up? "Spock, I can't let you go for half six weeks. Starfleet would have my hide. I was expecting... I don't know, something more along the lines of two weeks." Two weeks in a library at Memory Alpha; that's what he would have picked as Spock's dream vacation. Oh, well. Live and learn.

Spock said calmly, "I believe Admiral Pike will support my application."

Jim looked up quickly. "You spoke with him?"

"No, sir. Thus far I have mentioned the matter only to you and Lieutenant Uhura."

That must've been an interesting conversation, Jim thought.

"I merely wish to state that I am 98.73% certain that Admiral Pike will support the decision—that is, if you do decide to recommend me for leave."

Jim looked at the deadpan face before him. Spock held his face and body in perfect control—or what might pass for perfect control to the uninformed observer. But Jim thought he was beginning to understand this complex puzzle he had acquired as his second-in-command. Spock's posture was too rigid, his face too schooled in its impassivity. Spock wanted this, desperately. Jim could see it in the cast of his shoulders, as if they were being pulled tight behind his back with a steel wire. He could see it in the way that Spock had never once, since beginning this conversation, met his eyes.

Jim took a breath and tried to reorient his thinking. Logic; that was the key. He could make some headway if he focused on logic. "All right. What do you need in terms of support?"

Spock relaxed marginally, obviously sensing Jim's shift in attitude. "Standard survey equipment will suffice."

"You want it beamed down?"

"The Galileo is designed as a survey vessel."

Jim was surprised. "You want a shuttlecraft?"

"If I take a shuttlecraft, the Enterprise will not be required to deviate substantially from its filed flight plan. It will also permit me to engage in long-range surveys while on Emagious III."

"Logical. How about supplies? You'll need enough food and O2 for six weeks."

"Negative. An abundance of consumables will restrict the amount of fuel and survey equipment I can carry."

Jim was perplexed. "What will you eat?"

"I intend to live off the land."

"You what?"

Spock did flinch then, and Jim cursed himself. It was like dealing with a bloody thoroughbred stallion. He forced his voice into a softer register. "Mr. Spock, that is—" Insane, even for you. "—an unacceptable risk."

"I have often employed such a mode of subsistence on Vulcan."

"Emagious III isn't Vulcan—sorry. It's an unexplored planet. You don't even know if you'll find anything to eat there."

"The initial reports indicate that the composition of the indigenous flora possesses a compatible chemistry."

"By long-range sensor scan."

"Logic dictates that something edible will present itself."

"Logic says no such thing. In fact, the odds are against it. If nothing presents itself, how will six weeks of starvation improve your fitness?"

"Vulcans are not humans. I can easily survive such a period of time without substantial nourishment."

"Sounds like a great vacation. Go to a planet where you'll carry an oppressive weight on your shoulders everywhere you go for six weeks and starve."

Spock said nothing.

Jim rubbed his eyes. What the hell. If Spock wanted to take a break by crawling around on an unexplored planet looking for nonpoisonous roots and berries, who was Jim to interfere? For all he knew, Spock might even find the experience uplifting.

Jim sighed. "Fine. Show me your proposed course. I'll want a look at the Galileo's manifest, too."

Spock somehow conveyed the impression of relief without actually moving. Neat trick, that. "Thank you, Captain."

Jim waved a hand. "My pleasure."

With mixed feelings, Jim watched his First Officer stride out the door.