Intent

With every passing hour, Captain James T. Kirk became more and more aware that his ship was racing warp-speed toward a danger that was, as yet, unknown.

He forced himself to sit still – as still as he could manage– while activity on the Bridge swirled around him unabated. As time dragged – then sped – then dragged past, he supposed that more than one Starfleet Captain had been driven mad by such forced inactivity. He wondered which psyche questions during which evaluations were the ones designed to reveal that tendency… It was something he'd have to ask Bones, later.

Still, the Enterprise was preparing. Preparing, he wondered, for what?

The ship's Chief Science Officer had been unable to confirm that the planet toward which they raced had even been attacked – much less by whom. Or what.

Kirk allowed himself a partial turn of the Command Chair, just enough to grant a swift peripheral glance. The glimpse thus afforded was enough to reveal the hawk-like intensity with which Spock studied the data flashing across the Science monitors - and the fact that the Vulcan's mind was engaged so thoroughly that his hands, when they moved, did so more rapidly than he ordinarily permitted them to.

Just as well, then, that the Captain was the only one at leisure enough to observe him.

Like a well-conducted symphony – or more aptly, perhaps, a ballet – officers came and went, gave reports, handed him padds, while Kirk sat at the center and accepted the information he was given, with a nod, or a smile, or a murmur of thanks. He knew that what they said was only the barest of bones, the absolutely essential – but that he had only to look a question, or raise a hand to halt a crewman leaving, to gain more. Out of habit, he forwarded everything to the First Officer's station.

He didn't allow himself to wonder whether the officers' reports would have been different if the Vulcan were the one in the Command Chair.

Still, the Enterprise was preparing, her crew alert and well-trained.

At the end of shift, Uhura's and Bromley's were the first reliefs to appear. The change-over was as efficient as ever; and watching the smooth transition, the Captain was glad for even that slight change of scenery.

Uhura was still moving toward the turbolift when Jakobsen emerged. A glance at her superior's back was enough to cause the scientist's steps to slow. Her eyes shifted from Spock to the woman moving toward her, and Kirk's eyes followed. He caught the slight shake of Uhura's head, and the blue-clad blonde's answering look of understanding.

He had risen to his feet – propelled, perhaps, by a dual vision of Jakobsen returning to some lab below decks, and Uhura leaving for an evening alone – and he had spoken, before he even knew what he planned to say. "Mr. Spock," he said, and was almost startled when the fierce gaze of his First Officer turned upon him. He groped for something probable to say. "Excellent work today."

Spock's chair had made its habitual still-on-duty quarter-turn counter-clockwise, revealing an angular three-quarter profile, as Spock looked over his shoulder. One long hand was still resting on the console, ready to get back to work. The other's gaze was unreadable, with the intent almost-glare of interrupted thought.

"Take the evening off," Jim said. "Have dinner." Spock was just looking at him.

"Relax."

The dark eyes were unblinking; Jim was sure the other could see right through him – or would, at any second. He raised his chin in defense, as silence seemed to fall around him.

Like a bolt, inspiration struck; words snapped out. "Never know what tomorrow will bring. Better we should be at our best." He put his fists on his hips in a brook-no-dissent pose which he had blatantly stolen from Christopher Pike. It worked: Spock nodded and turned toward his station, with the obvious intent of changing the readout speeds. Jakobsen joined him there in a moment - her step eager, and professional.

Kirk's own relief arrived just then – fortunately - and he could retreat after a quick word and the handing off of a padd. He figured he could go back to the Bridge, later.

But no one else needed to know that.