As suspected, Dr. McCoy and Mr. Scott were already hard at work, slaving away over an exotically shaped bottle of some amber liquid. McCoy's eyes lit up when he saw Nyota walk in.

"Well, look who decided to join the party! Pull up a chair, angel."

Nyota waited for the door to close behind her, then fell back against it. She put her hands over her face and screamed—a gargled shriek of frustration—counting on the soundproofing to keep the cry from carrying to Christine in the next room.

The two men stared at her with wide eyes. After a moment, Scotty said, "Er, drink, Lieutenant?"

"They're everywhere!" Nyota cried. "I'm surrounded! On the bridge, in the mess, in Sic—" Her gaze fell across Dr. McCoy. Annoyed as she was with Christine at the moment, she didn't intend to be the one to let the doctor know about his assistant's unrequited love. He'd have to figure that one out for himself. "In other people's offices," she finished, as Scotty hastened to fetch her a glass. "I can't escape."

"Who's everywhere, darlin'?" McCoy asked in his folksiest, down-home manner.

Agitated as she was, Nyota felt his power to soothe. "Them. The..." The Spock stalkers. "The admiration squad," she finished.

"Ah!" Scotty eyed her sympathetically. "I ken the problem now. Ye poor lassie."

He poured a generous dollop into a glass and held it out to her, even as McCoy dragged over a chair for her. Nyota sank into it gratefully, then tossed back the contents of her glass with a gulp. Wow, that was strong. She held out her hand for a refill.

"That bad, huh?" McCoy chuckled as Scotty, with raised brows, filled her up again.

The Scot gave McCoy a hard look. "It's nae laughing matter, Doctor. Improprieties aboard a starship should always be taken seriously."

"Damn straight," said Nyota, and tossed back her second shot. It burned, oh so good, all the way down, melting her tension away.

Scotty filled her up again, then resumed his seat and leaned forward intently across the small table. "All right, Lieutenant. Suppose ye tell me who it is that's put you into such a state."

Nyota was flattered by his concern. She thought about poor Christine in the other room, doomed to look at Spock's picture in his medical record because she had no other outlet for her affection. Warmed by the liquor and the gentlemans' attentions, she began feeling rather more generous. "I'd rather not say. I mean, it doesn't really matter who's doing it. The problem is that they're everywhere—everywhere I turn."

Scotty shook his head. "Now, ye didn't come in here and scream yer head off because of some vague and general somebody. It's someone specific who's hounding you, isn't it?"

Nyota paused. She was really starting to feel rather relaxed. "I wouldn't say 'hounding'..."

"Ach, there's more to this than you're letting on." He tightened his jaw, while McCoy just smiled and shook his head, sipping his drink. Scotty leaned closer. "You tell me, lassie. Ye just tell me who it is who's been botherin' ye, and so help me, I'll thrash him from here to the engineering decks!"

Nyota was brought up short—but not short enough not to kill her third drink. She winced and set the glass solidly on the table. "What are you talking about?"

"The person who's bothering you!" Scotty frowned at her lack of comprehension. "I'll tell ye, if he's made so much as one inappropriate gesture— What is it with you, Doctor? You find this humorous, do ye?"

Doctor McCoy laughed long and heartily, equally ignoring Scotty's indignant expression and Nyota's sour one. "I'm sorry," he said, getting the better of his mirth. "I just can't listen to you two talking at cross purposes for another minute."

"It's not funny, Doctor!" Scotty cried with energy. "If Nyota's being harassed—"

"She's being harassed, all right." His eyes twinkled as he finished his drink. "But not by any imaginary crewman."

Scotty's eyes were wide. "Who, then?"

McCoy glanced her way, but Nyota was feeling the full force of her alcoholic buzz and was disinclined to answer. McCoy topped up his own drink, and then freshened both of theirs. In light of her continued silence, he volunteered, "I believe we can trace the source of our fair Lieutenant's problems to Mallory."

"Mallory." Scotty chewed over the name, doubtless running over the roster for the male crew before stumbling upon the truth. He looked startled when he finally hit it. "Ye mean... the new science officer?"

"The very one," McCoy said lightly, sipping his drink.

"That sweet, young thing?" Scotty cried, then looked at Nyota with amazement. "What in the world did she do to you?"

Nyota glowered, resenting her sudden change of role from innocent victim to heavyweight hitter. Still, it wasn't worth talking about. Nothing was worth talking about. She downed her fourth shot.

McCoy hesitated, until it was obvious that Nyota wasn't going to say anything. He then said to Scotty, "Nyota suspects that Mallory has a crush on Mr. Spock."

"She does?" Scotty blinked, then settled back comfortably in his chair. "Ach, well." He raised his drink in a toast. "Join the club, ye poor lass." He tossed it back.

Nyota eyed him through her alcoholic haze. "Join the club?" She actually sat up with her indignation; when had she slouched over? "Join the club? What club?"

Scotty shrugged. "The Spock Appreciation Society, of course." He gave her a narrow look. "D'ye mean to tell me you've never noticed any... interest in your boyfriend on the part of various crewmembers before?"

Nyota wouldn't meet his eyes. "Well..."

"Lieutenant!" Scotty gently chided. "Ye had to have noticed."

Feeling put upon, Nyota shifted in her chair. "Maybe a little."

"A little," McCoy snorted, and sipped his drink. He was enjoying this conversation way too much. Damn Jim Kirk for filling him in any way. Did he have to go blabbing Nyota's secrets to everyone on the ship? Sure, Dr. McCoy was discreet, but still...

"I'll give ye this, though," Scotty chatted on, while Nyota went back to slumping over the table. "They do seem to be everywhere. Why, just the other day, in Engineering, one of my technicians—"

"Nelson," Nyota mumbled, recalling the scene in the mess.

Scotty raised his brows. "Nelson, too?" He gave Dr. McCoy a look. "That's a new one."

McCoy waved him away, as if this discussion were beneath his notice.

"Er, no," Scotty resumed. "It wasn't Nelson."

"Great," Nyota mumbled to the table. "There's two of them." She downed her drink.

"No," Scotty nattered on. "This was Lu—er, a different one."

McCoy sat up, looking delighted and shocked at the same time. "Lumley, too?"

Scotty held out a finger. "Now, I never said it was Lumley."

McCoy sat back, smiling. "And here I always thought she had so much sense."

"She does! That is, we aren't discussing Lumley."

"Right," said McCoy. "Just this hypothetical technician."

"Right." Scotty nodded, pleased that the conversation was back on track. "This hypothetical technician. So anyway, it was a week or two ago, and Mr. Spock came down to Engineering for some reason. And Lum—er, this technician, was working with another one off to the side and she leaned over and said to her, 'I'd hit that.'"

Nyota's eyes got big. "She said that? Right in front of you?"

"Well, I don't think she meant to be overheard." Scotty mulled the situation, as if trying to recall the exact details. "I'm pretty sure it was meant to be a private observation."

Nyota stared at him, aghast. "That means Spock overheard her."

"Well, now, he might not have."

"Yes, he did. If he was walking by, and you heard her, then certainly he heard her." Thoughts of Spock's extraordinary hearing powers, clearly documented in the next room, danced through her head.

Scotty shook his head. "Now, we cannae be sure of that, Lieutenant. In fact, now that I think about it, she might not ha' talking about Mr. Spock at all."

"What?"

"Honestly. She could have been referring to anyone. It's just that Mr. Spock happened to walk by at that precise moment, and this technician said to Arn—er, said to her companion... ye know, what she said... and they both giggled—that's what led me to believe they were talking about Spock. But, ye know, I don't have any proof."

Nyota held her head in her hands. This was a nightmare!

"What I don't get," McCoy interrupted, "is why so many people around here are crazy about Mr. Spock. I mean, Spock!" He waved his hands, as if faced with an insoluble puzzle. "What's that guy got anyway, besides a sneer that can take the temperature in a room down to absolute zero?"

Nyota frowned, but Scotty stared at him. "Ye aren't serious, Doctor?"

"Yes, I am." McCoy set his glass on the table with a flourish. "I'll grant you the ears. That's got to have an exotic pull for some people. But, apart from that? You've got me stumped."

Nyota wanted to debate this—she really did. Instead, she fumbled with her empty glass—which McCoy obligingly filled for her.

Scotty was rubbing his jaw, pondering the original question. "Well, I can see Mr. Spock's appeal." He gave Nyota a warm smile. "Apart from being a bonny good friend."

Nyota smiled back. The room was starting to spin, but not enough to keep her from sipping her drink.

"Ye have to admit," Scotty went on, "objectively speaking, he's a fine-looking man— if you like 'em long and lean that way, which many of 'em do."

"So he's reasonably good-looking," McCoy grumbled. "So are a lot of people. What else?"

"He's a cool head in a crisis," Scotty said thoughtfully. "Lots o' women go for that."

"I'm a cool head in a crisis," McCoy argued. "I don't see them lined up for me."

"It's the combination, Doctor."

"So what you're saying is that I have to have looks plus composure plus ears to be attractive?" He tossed back his shot and pouted. "I might as well blow myself out the airlock right now."

"We're talking about Spock," Scotty corrected. "Ye have your own appeal."

McCoy glared at him. "Yeah? What is it?"

Scotty stared. "Give me a minute. I was thinking about Spock."

McCoy glowered. "You and the whole ship." He nudged Nyota's elbow. "You awake?"

She groaned.

"He's tall," Scotty mused. "That's attractive."

"Can we just forget about this conversation?" McCoy snapped.

"But personality means more than looks," Scotty continued.

"You mean, the personality of a computer printout? That personality?"

"Ach, Doctor! Mr. Spock has loads of personality."

"Loads of something," McCoy grumbled.

"He's brave, well-meaning—"

"Always ready to hear himself talk—"

"Loyal."

"Inhibited."

"Now, Doctor," Scotty chided. "You're nae even trying to think this through. Mr. Spock is an intelligent, steady, honest—"

"Arrogant, self-centered, pri—" Noticing Nyota, he finished with, "prima donna."

"Oh, not self-centered," Scotty countered amiably. "Surely not self-centered, Doctor."

Nyota was only too happy to let Scotty carry the battle; she was too far gone to rise up in righteous wrath as she otherwise would have. Besides, she knew that Dr. McCoy was the one who loved to hear himself talk, at least when he was grousing about Spock. But she knew the doctor really respected Spock underneath his prickly exterior—and was equally determined to never let that respect show. Talk about having a personality. She tipped up her glass, and frowned to see that it was empty.

The door swished open, and Kirk bounded into the room. "Wow, was that brutal! I've got to thank Sulu and Chekov later for bailing me out. After 20 minutes of listening to statistics, they finally took Mallory to the rec room for— What the hell happened to you?"

Nyota looked up blearily to find Kirk staring at her.

"Five shots," Scotty answered.

"Six," corrected McCoy.

"Wow." Kirk pulled up a chair wonderingly. "I don't think I've ever seen you shit-faced before." He held up a hand. "How many fingers?"

Nyota swatted it away.

"Whew!" Kirk grinned. "And I thought I was ready for a drink." He picked up the curiously shaped bottle— now almost empty— and eyed it. "What is this stuff?"

Scotty lifted a shoulder. "It's brown."

"So I see." Bemused, he looked around the table. "It looks like I'm a little late to the party, eh?"

"Always room for one more," McCoy said genially, reaching Kirk a fresh glass from the shelf.

Kirk took it absently, still gazing at his companions. "So, why is everyone so sober? I mean, serious?"

"We were talking about Vulcans, Jim." McCoy emptied the bottle into Kirk's glass. "They suck the fun out of everything."

"Gonna murder that Mallory," Nyota mumbled.

"Eh? What's that, Lieutenant?" Kirk asked impishly, leaning close and putting a hand to his ear as if he couldn't quite hear her.

Scotty answered, "I thought we'd established the problem was a little more widespread than that, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, apparently it's a creeping infection throughout Engineering." McCoy rummaged for a new bottle. "I think I'm going to have to inoculate everyone below deck 6."

"Above deck shix," said Nyota.

"And above deck six, too," McCoy amended.

"What creeping infection?" Kirk asked.

"Spock-itis," McCoy snapped. "It's more widespread than you might think."

"What, we have other people viewing Spock tapes?"

"Well, viewing him, anyway." Scotty glanced at Nyota. "In a purely friendly manner."

McCoy snorted.

Kirk leaned back in his chair thoughtfully, holding his drink aloft. "You know, Uhura, I'm not so sure you've got it right about Mallory."

"She schtinks," said Nyota.

"I mean, about her being in love with Spock. I know—" He held up his hands to forestall any objection. "You've worked with her more closely than I have."

"Schtalks about 'im alla time," Nyota said.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Here we go again."

"But I've spent quite a bit of time with her over the last couple of days," Kirk persisted, "and I can't say I really see anything there. Nothing more than a pretty obvious case of hero worship, that is."

Scotty cocked his head. "Ye honestly think it's just hero worship, Captain?"

"Well, I haven't seen any rubbing or wiggling, and I think I would have noticed that."

"Oh, is that the way of it?" Scotty grinned. "I confess, I wouldnae mind seein' a bit o' that myself."

"She wantsa jumpiz bones," Nyota slurred.

McCoy perked up. "What's this? Mallory wants to jump me?"

Kirk looked rueful. "Not you, Bones. His bones. Spock's bones."

"Oh." McCoy looked crestfallen. "Figures."

* * *

Much later, Nyota let Kirk help her back to her quarters. He wasn't so bad. No, really. He could be nice sometimes. When he felt like it. He'd had McCoy give her a pill a while ago so she could walk— that was nice, wasn't it? Although she'd have been perfectly happy to sleep in McCoy's office.

"Lotta be said for a table," Nyota told him, leaning against him as she wobbled down the hall. There weren't too many people around to see her stagger; it was late.

"Absolutely," Kirk agreed, as if he had any idea what she was talking about.

"Anna floor," Nyota added. "Floor's just fine."

"Floors are great. Here we are."

Her door slid open. When had they gotten here? Nyota didn't even remember being in the turbolift. Not with Jim. She remembered being in the turbolift with Spock. The memory made her sad.

"On the bed," Jim told her.

Nyota tried to smile. "Izzat Captain's orders?" Then she forgot about smiling and just concentrated on holding herself upright.

"You might say so. Now, sit down before you fall down."

Nyota actually did both, falling into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Kirk knelt and began removing her boots. That was nice, too. She felt a sudden rush of affection for him. It wasn't every ship's captain who would take your boots off when you were having trouble with your balance. She brushed his golden hair back around his ear.

"You're not Spock," she said, when he looked up, startled.

He gave her a twisted smile. "No. I'm not."

"S'too bad." She brushed back his hair some more. "You can be nice sometimes."

"That's what my press agent tells me." He rose and studied her. "Are you going to be all right?"

She waved a hand. "I'm fine." She looked blearily around her room. "I'm always fine."

"Okay. You sleep it off, and we can talk more tomorrow if you want to."

"I miss him." The tears sprang suddenly to her eyes. She put up a hand to cover them. The room seemed very still, especially with Jim standing there motionless, watching her. "I'm pathetic," she sniffled.

"Yeah, you're a sloppy drunk. I wouldn't have expected that of you."

Nyota tried to laugh, but her emotions were all mixed up. She looked around her room, all the familiar objects that seemed so barren now. "You know the last time Schpock was here? Y'know what he did?"

"Lieutenant—"

"He kished me." She pointed to her pillow. "Right there."

Kirk took a step toward the door. "I don't think you should be telling me this. I'm not sure that I want to hear this."

"Swaz really nice."

"I'll bet it was." Kirk hesitated. "Should you be alone? I mean, I could ask Lo or somebody to sit with you."

Nyota waved her hand again. "I'm fine."

"If you say so." He lingered just within the boundary that would trigger the door to open. "You've heard nothing yet from Spock?"

"Tomorrow." Nyota knew she sounded bitter, but she couldn't help it. "He shed he'd senna message when he reached the planet. That woulda been four daysh ago, an' it takes that long fer a message to get here, so..." She shrugged. "Tomorrow."

Kirk looked sympathetic. "I guess he's not in the habit of deviating from his scheduled plan, is he?"

"Nope!" Nyota took a breath. "S'not gonna communicate more'n he said. I know that. It's juss... sad." She pursed her lips, fighting tears. "Makes me sad."

"Well, next time spell it out for him. Have him send a message every day, whether he has anything important to say or not."

"I wasn't always thish bad." Nyota took a shaky breath. "Used ta do a lotta stuff on my own. I guess I forgot how."

"Well, being in a relationship changes things. It's no reflection on you."

"No reflession," Nyota murmured, wondering if that were true.

"I mean, you and Spock have probably been together for..."

He paused, but Nyota had no intention of filling in the timeframe for him. Let him find it out on his own.

"...for however long you've been together," Kirk continued, "and that's changed things. Your habits and so on. And it's probably been pretty intense when you are together—you know, if he does any of that Vulcan mind stuff..."

Nyota bit her lip. She missed his Vulcan mind stuff. She missed all of it.

"And you've probably never been apart for so long before. So it's a rough period for you. But you will get through it. Spock will be back, all well-adjusted and perky, and things will be better than ever... won't they?"

Nyota couldn't bring herself to answer. She hoped so. She hoped it would be better with all her heart.

Kirk sighed. "All right, get some sleep. Tomorrow we're going to take you to the rec room for some R&R whether you want to go or not."

Nyota managed a wobbly smile. "Threats?"

"Whatever works."

"Ri'. Whatever works."

He gave her a fond smile, and dimmed the lights. "Good night, Nyota."

"G'night... Jim."

She watched him step into the hall, and the door closed. Then she folded over herself, bending double to rest her head on her knees.

It hurt. Missing him actually hurt. When had she become so weak? It's not like she had to have him around to be functional... did she?

Dismally, Nyota looked at her computer. No message light. She didn't expect one, but still. It would have been nice to know that he was thinking about her.

"I miss you," she whispered toward the computer. Nothing answered her but the weak echo of her own words.

Nyota curled up on her side, hugging her pillow on her cold, empty bed.