The turbolift doors closed behind the reunited lovers. For a moment all was silent on the bridge.

Then Ensign Lo murmured, with enthusiasm, "Hot damn!"

Jim frowned in her direction. "Ensign, you are speaking of a superior officer."

Lo shook her head. "Captain, honey, don't I know it!"

Titters sounded from around the bridge. Jim lost his patience. "I understand that we've had an unusual morning, but please—can we leave off the blatant insubordination and try to get our minds back on our jobs?"

Lo look chastened. "Sorry, sir."

"Fine." Still irritated, he turned toward Chekov. "I'm curious. What were you discussing with Mr. Spock when I first came on the bridge?"

Chekov punched a few buttons, probably trying to demonstrate that he, at least, was attending to his duties. "It concerned the message from New Wulcan, sir."

"New Vulcan?" The memory clicked. "Oh, yeah. What did Spock say about that, um..."

"Kashek-shoret wak," Mallory supplied.

Jim waved a hand in her direction. "Yeah, that. What is it?"

Chekov gloomily adjusted a setting. "It is a thing."

"A what?"

"A thing," said Mallory.

"What kind of thing?" asked Jim.

Chekov looked irritated. "A Wulcan thing."

Jim looked around the room. Mallory shrugged, Lo looked amused, and Chekov was plainly annoyed. "I see." Good old Spock, he thought. He might be freakishly relaxed, but he was just as communicative as ever.

"Well, I'm certainly glad you got him to tell us all about it."

"That is just it!" Chekov complained, literal as ever. "He didn't say anything. Just that it may or may not affect our mission."

"He said that it probably wouldn't," Lo corrected.

"Well, we'll tackle him about it later. But for now—" Jim clapped his hands, trying to lighten the mood. "Ensign Mallory. The Galileo will need another 20 minutes or so to rendezvous with us. How would you like to lead a science team down to the surface for a quick on-site survey?"

Mallory's eyes lit up. "Can I?"

"You've earned it, Ensign. I wouldn't want to send you back to the Lao-Tse with only star mapping and smuggler tracking to add to your record."

Mallory grinned. "Thank you, sir."

"Still, our time is limited, so we'd better move fast. Mr. Flynn." Jim turned toward Uhura's relief. "Get me someone from Geology and Life Sciences. Who was that botanist?"

"Biologist Mubarak," Flynn answered.

"Right. Get her and..." He snapped his fingers. "The older guy. Fleming. Do we still have a security team on-site?"

"No, sir. We just beamed the last one up to Transporter Room Three."

"Well, beam them back down." He turned toward Mallory encouragingly. "I don't expect you'll run into anything; the area's been pretty thoroughly searched. Still, it never hurts to have a couple extra pairs of eyes around."

Mallory's eyes sparkled. "I appreciate that, sir. Once I get absorbed in something, I don't have attention for anything else."

"Yes. I noticed that about you." He gave her a smile, which she returned.

Jim felt good inside. Doing something nice for Mallory after all her hard work was the least he could do, especially after her reputed heartthrob walked out the door with another lady to engage in round after round of hot animal sex. No, don't go there!

Flynn turned toward Jim with furrowed brows. "Captain, I can't raise anyone in Life Sciences."

Jim blinked. "That's strange. How about Geology?"

Flynn pushed a few buttons, and then shook his head. "No response from Fleming, or anyone else."

"Where is everybody?" Jim wondered aloud. They couldn't all be riding around in overfilled turbolifts—could they?

"Scanning," said Sulu. His eyebrows went up in surprise. "Well, I don't know about Fleming and Mubarak, but there's a huge crowd on deck five."

"Deck five?" It took only a moment for Jim to puzzle it out. His good mood evaporated. "The officers' quarters."

Sulu tried to hide his amusement. He did it better than Lo. "Yes, Captain."

"Spock," he growled.

Sulu gave Jim a good-natured shrug. "I guess they wanted to see him walk back to his cabin."

"This is ridiculous!" Jim marched over to Sulu's console. "I mean, nothing remotely like this ever happened to me on my best possible day!"

"It's the ears," Chekov grumbled.

"It's more than the ears," countered Lo.

"I don't want to talk about his ears or any other part of him!" Jim paced a couple of times behind Sulu in pure exasperation. "How the devil did they know he was headed down there, anyway?"

"He was bound to go back to his quarters sometime, Captain," Sulu pointed out.

Jim scowled. "How many people are down there?"

Chekov adjusted a setting, then his eyes went wide. He coughed. "I count...one hundred fifty-three."

"153!" Jim stared. "That's a third of the crew."

Sulu did a fine job of holding in his laughter. "At least we now know we can evacuate everyone onto only three decks if we have to."

Jim glared at him a moment, then marched over to his command chair. He hit the ship-wide intercom with an unnecessary amount of force.

"All hands, this is the Captain. We will be in orbit around Emagious III for approximately another 30 minutes. I want detailed scans of the planet's surface from all departments, with a report of your findings to be delivered by each section to me in," he made up a time, "72 minutes. Geologist Fleming and Biologist Mubarak, report to Transporter Room One for landing party detail. All other on-duty personnel, report to your stations to assist with the scanning effort. Immediately, people. Kirk out."

He snapped off the intercom, disproportionately annoyed.

"Crowd... beginning to disperse," Chekov reported.

"You can't really blame them, Captain," said Sulu. "Not many people have seen a mostly naked Vulcan before."

"I know, but—" He gave Sulu an appalled look. "It's Spock."

Sulu shrugged. "Spock's not so bad."

"No." Kirk subsided gloomily. "He isn't."

Shaking off his mood, he turned toward Mallory. "Well, Ensign. Time is flying. Shall we go?"

Mallory hurried toward him from her station. "Are you coming too, sir?"

"We'll get you a field tricorder, then I'll walk you as far as the transporter room."

Mallory's unaffected smile was a breath of fresh air—as well as a boost to his bruised ego. "Thank you, sir."

Jim was relieved when they exited the turbolift near the transporter room to see the normal number of personnel walking about the corridors. True, they were smirking more than usual—until they noticed him, when they suddenly became absorbed in the floor or the opposite wall so they wouldn't have to meet his eye—but that was fine. At least superficially, the Enterprise was restored to some level of sanity.

When the doors to the transporter room opened, Jim could see his landing party was already assembled. Fleming, the dignified geologist, and Scotty rested from opposite sides against the transporter console, their attention focused on Biologist Mubarak, a short, animated woman with heavily outlined eyes and swathes of dark, luxurious hair elaborately done up in a coiffure.

"... and he didn't even touch the rails," Mubarak was saying excitedly, while Fleming smiled indulgently at her side. "He just, bloop! Straight up the access tunnel in a single leap—"

She stopped when Jim and Mallory's movement into the room caught her eye. She and Fleming quickly bent to check their instruments.

Scotty immediately got busy with his controls. "Just a few more settings, sir."

Jim felt his teeth clenching. "Thank you, Mr. Scott."

All of this byplay seemed to pass over Mallory's head. "Is there any particular area you want to concentrate on, sir?" she asked.

"I'll let you use your scientific judgment, Ensign." Jim turned toward the rest of the landing party. "You've only got about 20 minutes. I don't expect a detailed report; just feel free to make whatever observations you can in the time allowed."

"Yes, sir," replied Fleming and Mubarak together.

Mallory practically bounced onto the transporter pad, the other officers joining her more sedately. Jim walked casually toward the transporter console and leaned against it with an elbow.

"All set?" he asked the survey team.

Mallory nodded eagerly.

Jim said to Scotty, "Energize."

The team disappeared in the glow. Jim lazily turned around so he was still leaning against the transporter console, but facing Scotty.

Scotty was all business. "Materialization complete." He checked the settings. "Everything's in order."

"Good," Jim murmured.

Scotty began in an elaborate series of double-checks that was by no means part of a routine transport operation. "I'll keep a watchful eye on them, sir."

"Uh huh."

There was a spot of color in each of Scotty's cheeks as he maniacally checked settings. He was almost certainly avoiding Jim's eye.

Jim sighed. "Scotty, why did you do it?"

Scotty froze. Then he resumed his routine. "Er, do... something, Captain?"

Jim dropped his pretense. "You told Spock that he had to report to the bridge immediately upon beam-up. You told him he had to get there so promptly that he didn't even have time to change into his uniform. Now, would you mind explaining to me why you deliberately lied to a superior officer?"

Scotty pressed a few more buttons, then looked up. To Jim's surprise, Scotty's expression was full of irritated impatience. "Captain, cannae ye gi' me credit for having any intelligence at all?"

Jim was thrown. "Excuse me?"

"Ye couldnae expect me to beam up—" He waved his hand frustratedly at the transporter pad. "That! Mr. Spock looking the way he did, wearing that tiny little Vulcan thing, and keep it to myself, could ye? How could I in good conscience waste such a once-in-a-career morale-building opportunity as that?"

Jim worked to overcome his shock. "Morale-building?"

"Good grief, man, how did ye end up as a starship captain, if ye have no common sense?"

Jim began to get angry. "Scotty, the point is—"

"He was beautiful. Beautiful! Wearing that skimpy little outfit o' his. I tell ye, Technician Lumley and Nurse Chapel had their morale boosted so hard they couldnae speak a word for a full five minutes, as I was in a position to know."

"So you sent him into the hall."

"Aye!" Scotty said fiercely. "Sent him down to the access tunnel at the main junction, too. That way, more people could get a look at him."

Despite himself, Jim was becoming fascinated by Scott's reasoning. "What people were these?"

Scotty scratched his head. "Well, now, that would be nearly everyone from Engineering—Lumley got out the word to them right away, before Mr. Spock even left the chamber. And then one person after another began to pass it along, or so I figure, until the halls were full of people."

Jim felt himself reeling. No wonder the turbolift had been packed, and deck five so crowded. Everyone was sending everybody else a Red Alert about Spock marching around in a Vulcan bathing suit. He supposed the excessive interest was due to the novelty as much as anything else.

He struggled to form a coherent question. "Didn't Spock... notice all the unusual activity?"

"I'm sure he did. But he'll most likely put it down to the turbolift malfunction."

Jim frowned. "What turbolift malfunction?"

"Well... there wasn't one. But I made a point to tell him there was so he'd be sure to take the access tunnel."

Jim shook his head in disbelief. "Scotty, that's... that's..."

"Brilliant, I know. But you know what they say: a horny ship is a happy ship!"

Jim started to laugh despite himself. "No one says that."

"Well, sir, ye have me there. Actually, it's not the horniness, it's the glorious aftermath that brings about the joy. And believe me, there's going to be plenty of aftermath in the wake of Mr. Spock's little walk today. In fact, I wouldnae be surprised if everyone who's off-duty and conscious is engaging in a little bit o' aftermath right now—given such inspirational material."

Scotty had a point. Actually, Jim knew two people who were almost certainly engaged in some serious aftermath at this very moment. He shook his head hard to dislodge the image.

Scotty lowered his voice, looking smug. "Between you and me, I'm, ah... counting on a little aftermath myself."

Jim pulled his thoughts back to the present. "Lumley?"

Scotty examined his nails. "I think she's nicely primed. She's agreed to have dinner with me after our shift—dinner in my quarters. I'm sure a good time will be had by all—and I don't really care whose name she cries out at a moment of passion, if ye know what I mean."

Jim scrubbed his face. "Scotty, you are evil. Evil!"

"Nae, I couldnae agree. Practical. Cunning, if you like. But surely not evil. Ooh, ooh!" Scotty was practically jumping with excitement. "I know what we can do."

Jim stared helplessly. "What?"

"We can make this an annual event—like the running of the bulls in... eh..."

"Pamplona," Jim supplied.

"Right. We'll get Spock to wear his little outfit, and we'll put him on deck 30. We'll tell him it's a... health thing. Like, to keep him in shape. So we start him out in the satellite bay, and tell him he has to run through every deck on the ship—"

"Scotty..."

"—until he gets to the bridge. We can set it up like a course. And people can be cheering him on all along the way—"

"Mr. Scott..."

"—until the race ends and we get to the aftermath bit again." Scotty bounced on his toes. "Ah, Captain, ye'd have the happiest crew in the fleet! Just give the word, sir, and I'll take care of everything." Scotty paused to reflect. "Actually, I think we should make this a monthly event. Once a year isn't near often enough."

All this talk of "glorious aftermaths" was really getting to Jim's... head. He thought of how lonely it could be in space, how few were the opportunities for simple, carefree fun. He couldn't help thinking about all those women who were... primed, as Scotty put it, and desperate for a good dose of comfort. Nelson in Engineering had a soft spot for Spock, Jim suddenly remembered. Perhaps she hadn't yet made dinner plans with anyone...

Jim shook himself. He was as deranged as his crew! He would not be drawn into this madness. Besides, could he seriously bring himself to act as a sub for Spock? Had he fallen that low?

Taking his emotions firmly in hand, Jim again attempted to regain control of the situation. "Scotty, there is only one relevant issue here. You deliberately tricked a fellow officer—actually, grade makes no matter—a fellow member of the crew, into parading through the halls in a state of semi-dress, to be ogled at by all and sundry. That's just... wrong."

Scotty waved a hand. "Ach, he's Vulcan! All the ogling in the world won't make the slightest impact on him."

"That's not the point."

"That's entirely the point! I'm telling ye, Captain, the real reason for all the interest would never cross his mind in a million years! He'll see the crowds as related to the turbolift problem. Mark my words: at the next department meeting, he'll ask me to look into a more efficient routing of personnel when the turbolifts are down. I'll wager ye a 12-year-old bottle of Scotch on that!"

Jim frowned. "The crowds on the bridge and deck five can't be explained by the turbolift problem."

"He'll assume they were just... coming to say hello."

"What?"

"No, really. Fleming and Mubarak were telling me about it just before you arrived."

"Deck five?"

"Yes, sir. They'd all lined up outside of the turbolift closest to Mr. Spock's quarters. When the door opened, they burst into polite applause—those that had control of their reflexes, that is."

Jim was riveted. "What did Spock do?"

"Just gave them the leery once over, like he couldn't believe the illogical waste of all this manpower on something as frivolous as a welcome-home greeting." He paused. "I think Fleming said he did spare a nod here and there."

"And Nyota?"

"Ah!" Scotty's gaze softened. "She was like a queen, gliding along beside him and shooting daggers from her eyes at whoever she thought was staring too intently. Ah, Captain, I wish I could've seen it!" He came back to himself. "And then your message came across and everyone had to leave."

Scotty didn't say it, but Jim was certain he was being cast in the role of Official Wet Blanket over the entire View Nearly Naked Spock Operation.

Jim tried to gather his thoughts. "Scotty, the fact remains that people are objectifying and taking advantage of the Enterprise's second-in-command."

Scotty raised his brows. "No one will be taking advantage of Mr. Spock except Uhura—not if they want to keep themselves in one piece." At Jim's glare, he carried on, his eyes begging for understanding. "Honestly, Captain, what's the harm in a little peep? Spock doesn't notice, and everyone else... does! It's a win-win. Morale is boosted and blood pressure lowered through the healthy release of exercise. It's the bonniest solution to space fatigue I ever saw."

Worn down at last, Jim sagged against the console. "Are you taking up Vulcan philosophy now, Scotty? 'There is no offense given where none is taken'?"

Scotty pondered a moment. "Aye."

Jim sighed. "All right. Keep an eye on our landing party while I... think about what to do about this." He started walking toward the door.

Scotty looked after him anxiously. "No reprimand?" Doubtless he was thinking about ice planets. He needn't worry; Jim would never send a person to an ice planet in his entire career, if he could help it.

Jim answered honestly, "I'm not sure where I would start or stop. You sent Spock to the bridge, but Lumley was the one who called out the crowds, before they began calling each other—" He glanced around. "Shouldn't she be back here? I like to have a backup at the transporter console."

"I'll get her here right away."

Jim smiled. "I'm sure you will."

He continued toward the door, but the silence puzzled him. He turned around to see Scotty watching him. Clearly, he was waiting for Jim to leave. Jim turned around and stood still. Now what was the Scotsman up to?

Realizing that Jim was going to stand here until he made the call, Scotty reluctantly pushed the comm button. "Security," came the prompt reply.

Scotty cleared his throat. "Is, ah... Technician Lumley there?"

"She just left, Commander."

"Ah." Scotty, trying to sound casual, failed miserably. "So she's on her way back to the transporter room."

"Yes, sir," said the man on duty. Before Scotty could even complete his reassuring nod at Jim, the voice continued, "She said she was going to drop the tapes off at your quarters on her way."

In two steps, Jim was at the transporter console pushing the comm link. "This is the Captain. What tapes are these?"

"Captain?" The man sounded alarmed. "I didn't realize you were in the room, sir."

"Never mind that. What tapes are these?"

The man hesitated. "They're just... records of recent activity, Captain."

"What recent activity?"

"We were studying... overcrowding in the corridors."

"Over—" He gave Scotty a glare that should have melted him like a dropped scoop of ice cream on a hot day. "These tapes wouldn't, by any chance, happen to have images of Mr. Spock on them, would they?"

Now the man sounded really nervous. "I... believe they did, sir."

Scotty gave him a pleading look that would have made a puppy cry, but Jim's heart was flint. "Chief—and I'm using that rank for the moment—there is to be no unauthorized distribution of Security tapes to anyone—anyone—without my prior direct order. Any tapes that were distributed had better be back in your custody in the next 10 minutes, or you'll spend the rest of your tour of duty washing the bumpers on the shuttlecraft. Do I make myself clear, Chief?"

"Very clear, sir. I'll get the tapes back right away!"

Jim broke the connection, and then glared at Scotty. The engineer shifted from foot to foot, knowing that he'd been busted.

When Jim finally spoke, his voice was like honey dropping into a vat of acid. "Tapes, Mr. Scott?"

At least Scotty had the good grace to look thoroughly ashamed. "Lumley thought we might use them as, uh, inspiration for this evening..."

Jim took a moment to control his anger. "The only reason I'm not throwing you, Lumley, the security chief, and anyone else I can think of into the brig is because it's clear the entire Enterprise has gone crazy. I can only hope that everyone regains their sanity once Spock puts his clothes back on. But your creativity ends here, Mr. Scott. This is the last infraction. I will not have my First Officer used as 'inspirational material' by anyone. If you want to seduce Lumley, that's your business—but you're going to have to do it based on your own merits. Do you read me, Mr. Scott?"

"Yes, sir," Scotty said miserably.

Jim gave the transporter console a smack in his agitation. "All right." He again started toward the door.

Scotty asked hesitantly, "May I ask where you'll be?"

Jim turned. "In Security. Making sure every single tape showing Commander Spock's arrival is erased."

Scotty jumped forward. "You cannae do that! It's... it's... of historical importance."

"It is not!"

"It is! It's official ship's records. Starfleet won't like it if you erase them."

Jim paused. Scotty did have a point about the official records.

Scotty came forward, doing that whipped-dog thing again with his eyes. "I know I was in the wrong, sir. I'm clear about that. I'll never do such a thing again. But please, don't destroy the records. I'll wager the time will come when you don't feel as strongly about it as you do at this moment. A year or so from now, we'll all be sitting around Dr. McCoy's office after some particularly grueling mission, having a drink and talking over old times. Chekov will be trying to grow his beard. Spock will have learned to smile. And then someone will bring up that time when he came aboard wearing nothing but his running trews, and we'll all get a good laugh out of it."

Jim softened. The picture Scotty painted was very appealing.

"And then," Scotty continued, "after another drink or two, we'll play those tapes of Spock that Security saved, and everyone will dive hot and heavy into the glorious aftermath."

Jim laughed. He couldn't help it; all the frustration and absurdity of the situation came home to him at once. He laughed until he hurt. Beyond him, Scotty smiled, confident that he'd once again carried the day.

Jim finally got the better of his mirth. For the last time, he started toward the door.

Scotty stepped forward. "So, ye'll keep the tapes?"

Jim paused on the threshold as the doors slid open. "Don't tell Uhura," he said, and stepped into the hall.