In Distress

Jim spent a good portion of the morning at the desk in his quarters, reviewing paperwork, signing off on the things way overdue, and figuring that - if he continued to evade the eagle-eye of his Second-in-Command once he made it up to the Bridge - he might catch a break for a while on the rest.

He was right. Sort of. He actually managed to avoid the hard stuff for an hour or two - looking, instead, over crew assignments, and potential additions, from the comfort of the center seat. In spite of himself, he agreed with all of the recommendations the First Officer had provided.

So far, so good.

Then Commander Spock appeared at his side, his manner solemn. (What else was new?)

Jim didn't look up; one more scrawled 'JTK' joined the column down the right side of the page.

"Captain," the Vulcan said, his voice low enough to not attract attention from the rest of the Bridge complement, "the Sciences Department update briefing is scheduled to commence in approximately 22 minutes." Jim tried to look busy, kept his eyes on the padd. 'Update briefing'? Update briefing… Right. He'd agreed to meet with the department heads over a week ago - having avoided that, too, for long enough. Now, he'd totally forgotten, and there was no way he was prepared.

And Spock knew he'd forgotten – The confidential tone told him as much. The quiet voice continued: "There are a few things it might be wise to have explained before that meeting; and there was a report anomaly that perhaps we should discuss."

Jim sighed. Spock was so freaking diplomatic it was almost embarrassing.

He considered… '22 minutes' - 30 seconds to get to the Briefing Room, twenty minutes for Spock to lecture, and a minute-and-a-half to breathe and absorb before - while - the others arrived.

Oh, wait: Spock had actually said 'approximately.' The guy had probably allowed a little extra time for Jim to have this conversation with himself…

He was pretty sure 'might be wise to have explained' meant 'you have no hope of understanding, but at least I can try to prepare you so you don't look like an idiot.' And as for the report anomaly – well, Kirk hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. But, then again, there was no guarantee that he'd even gotten around, yet, to reading the report in question.

Spock was still standing gravely at his side. Pondering Vulcan methods, Jim debated the possibility of bluffing… Captain Kirk raised his brow, and nodded, before rising from the chair.

Spock said nothing, merely folding his hands behind his back and solemnly following Kirk to the turbolift.

Apparently, Jim thought, 20 minutes of Spock-talk was just enough to keep him from humiliating himself in the course of an hour-long meeting. The scientists looked pleased that their Captain had made eye-contact, and nodded at the right moments as they spoke; and Jim suspected that they didn't notice the way their immediate superior retained control of the discussion, and deftly directed it such that there was no time for random conversation – nor, at the end, for a reasonable expectation of questions from Kirk.

If he hadn't been so grateful, Jim would have felt kinda bad. (Spock worked hard enough, without having to make the Captain look good… Right?) He looked around the blue-crowded table at the pleased, interested faces of the ship's scientists, and decided to try –just try, mind: No promises – to be better about this stuff in the future.

The distress call came as they were preparing to leave the Briefing Room.

Commander Spock was out of his chair before Lieutenant Uhura had even finished speaking or keyed the transmission relay - throwing a glance at the Captain, over his shoulder, as he headed to the Bridge. Kirk nodded for him to go, quickly.

The Vulcan was still standing at his station, his hands moving lightning fast, when Captain Kirk emerged from the turbolift and stepped toward him. His voice was clipped, rapid, but as uninflected as ever. "Ship's sensors are unable to confirm that Daernnus is under attack, Captain." He slipped smoothly into the chair, and scanned the monitors, his hands busy.

Long fingers moved over various controls, flicked a switch; and a readout popped up on the main viewscreen. Jim turned to look: Known worlds circled stars with tiny markings, uncharted areas were blank and mysterious, blue-labeled dots were Member Planets sprinkled few and far between. The only thing moving across the star-spangled blackness was a saucer-and-nacelles-shaped blip that didn't begin to do justice to the majestic beauty of the ship it represented.

After another second, the field widened. Back along their flight path, toward the bottom of the screen, was the white shape of the Starbase - and to the far upper-right, off along a tangent, there appeared a small system with a lone yellow star, a couple of planetary blobs, and an orange circle around one of the latter - with flashing arrows travelling inward, ominously.

Jim could feel tension washing over the Bridge – In response he felt his own surge of adrenaline, the resultant tightening in his gut. He looked sharply toward the helm. "Chekov, plot a course to Daernnus."

"Aye, sir."

He turned back to Spock. The other felt his question, and spared him a glance. "No, sir, no confirmation." Kirk nodded. If there was any information to be found, Spock would find it; he didn't need to say 'keep looking.'

Chekov's voice piped up, "Course laid in, Captain."

"Good.

"Sulu, make it snappy."

"Aye, Captain."

Spock's hands continued their dance at his computer station, and information flashed rapidly across the science monitors. Apparently there were things to see, just not what they were looking for…

Uhura was next. "Lieutenant, replay that message."

"Yes, sir." Her fingers touched and tapped on controls. Watching them - unable to do much else while he waited - Jim noticed she had changed her nail polish again: Her nails flashed silvery-blue today. Her eyes moved toward him, then up toward the ceiling… and Kirk was ready for the voice.

(Well, as much as he could be, he was ready.)

It didn't sound any better the second time. While he listened, his glance fell on the impassive form of his Science Officer…

"This is the Chancellor of Daernnus. Our planet is under attack. We need aid, and assistance. Repeat: Daernnus is under attack. Please help."

The message-voice issuing from the speakers overhead was wavering, even feeble – filled with panic and helpless despair. Anything less Vulcan-sounding, Jim couldn't imagine. But he could imagine the effect that this message would have on any person – any Vulcan - less Vulcan than Spock…

The other had paused, too, just for an instant - listening - before turning his chair back to his station, and applying himself once more to the search.

"Spock?"

"Nothing, Captain." This voice was as cool as ever, betraying no trace of the tension otherwise filling the Bridge, no hint of any thought beyond that of the task before him. "I am automating long-range sensors."

Cool as ever.

('Presumably,' a tiny part of Jim's mind suggested, 'if Vulcans were subject to goose-bumps' - like the ones lifting the hair across his own forearms at this very moment – 'they would mind-over-matter those pesky signs of weakness away.')

Grimly, Kirk turned to face full forward, moved a step or two toward his chair – and stopped.

Onscreen, the little blip had swung to the right, and was moving more rapidly. The schematic rotated, now, so that the orange-bounded world was dead-center at the top - along the ship's projected course. After a moment, the visual shrank down to fill the bottom-left corner of the viewscreen - freeing the rest to show the real-time view ahead.

Beautiful.

At moments like this ('Even at'? 'Especially at'?) Captain James T. Kirk loved his ship.

Some of the people running it, he realized, were artists in their respective fields. At moments like this, that was easy to see. (He was the Captain of the best damned ship in the fleet. Maybe, just maybe, it would all be okay.)

He felt movement at his side, and looked over to see Spock standing beside him, also gazing at the primary display. After a moment, the Vulcan's head turned, and their eyes met.

Jim smiled, just a little - He resisted saying 'thanks.' Spock nodded, and directed his gaze back to the viewscreen.