Scattered
Time, for Jim, was still dragging, yet the ship was hurtling onward. When he stilled, he could sense the heightened energy of unceasing human activity all around him: It thrummed through the decks, like the engines he knew he shouldn't be able to feel. He had tried to take his own advice - to relax before tomorrow's storm - but his mind, unable to rest, clamored for something to do.
He was going to tackle the hard stuff. He really was.
He turned from the galley alcove with a cup of what promised to be a passable imitation of coffee, and headed toward his desk. It might taste like sealant – no telling, really (that, he supposed, was part of the charm) – but at least it smelled good.
He sat, setting the cup within easy reach; he flipped on the console, activated the padd – and, examining a list far too long for comfort, considered where to start.
The door chimed.
For a moment, he was annoyed; and debated ignoring it.
It chimed again. A second too soon to be Spock - a single ring, so not Scott. He sighed.
He keyed the switch to activate the door for McCoy, his mind still half-contemplating his mounting to-do list: It was even worse than he had imagined. At this rate, he'd have to give up half-a-day of shoreleave just to catch up…
The doctor came in, crossed to the desk, and stood opposite, frowning.
He was empty-handed, still in his surgical tunic. Not a casual visit, then. Mixing business with pleasure? Must be: Something entirely official would have prompted a call for an appointment, or a request that the Captain come to Sickbay.
So, it wasn't something too serious – not something about Kirk's health, or with the potential to affect the whole ship…
He looked up, met the frown, dismissed it.
"I'm busy, Bones. What's up?"
A pause, then, "You taking Spock with you tomorrow?" For all that there had been a pause, the question was abrupt.
"Yes."
Bones eyed him. If it were possible to scowl any deeper, he did so. Jim shot him a look, then scrolled a page over on the padd.
"Working, here, Doctor."
"Make time, Captain." Bones' voice held a hint of genuine anger. Jim didn't call him on the secondary hint of sarcasm - Perhaps it was warranted. He put aside the padd, the fact that he was turning it off, obvious.
"I'm listening." He tried to make his tone neutral.
Aware that he had the Captain's full attention, McCoy took a minute to find the right tack. He paced, a moment, thinking. ('Spock?' Jim wondered.)
McCoy came back, and leaned over the desk, his knuckles a couple of inches from the padd. Jim looked up from them, in surprise, at his words, "You talked to Pike recently?"
Jim just shook his head, willing himself not to speculate.
"No, not lately."
McCoy was straightening.
"Why?"
Bones flung himself into the chair, inadvertently revealing his frustration – or, perhaps, his concern.
"I got a message from him while we were at Starbase Nine." McCoy wasn't looking at him. "I thought maybe it was about you – about your Captaincy, maybe, something like that – " the hazel eyes checked in, then looked past him, remembering, "but when I called him back, he asked about Spock."
Bingo.
"You know they're friends, right?" Bones was looking at him, now.
Jim nodded.
"Good friends? Not just 'Captain-and-First-Officer' but 'Fellow-Officers-and-Comrades-in-Arms,' you know?" It was strange to hear Bones talk about Spock having friends, admitting that such a thing was possible - much less with an understanding of the kind of camaraderie generated by mutual experience in the field, and the trials of Command: It was something that Jim, himself, was only really beginning to appreciate, even now.
"Yes," Jim said, "I know." He hadn't thought about it, though.
Captain Pike had been Kirk's mentor. If truth be told, was still his role-model, and exemplar.
He may have admired Pike, imitated his style; but Jim hadn't really thought about his – their – personal past.
Spock and Pike were friends? Friends?
He and Spock weren't friends, were they? Not really, he supposed. Yeah, they worked together, but they weren't really there yet. Probably. Though maybe, in the last few days…
"Yes," he said, "I know." He supposed he did.
('Good friends'? Huh.)
McCoy was eyeing him, again. "Well, Pike is worried about him."
Jim straightened his shoulders, met those eyes. "Yeah?"
There was a line between Bones' eyebrows, another proto-frown.
McCoy nodded. "He asked about him, wondered how things were going." He leaned forward, closing the gap, just a little. "He didn't want to make a big deal, I think; just wanted to know… well, whether there was anything to tell." Hazel eyes flashed to Jim's again, as the mobile mouth gave a twist. "That make sense?"
Jim nodded. "Yeah," he said, "it does."
He supposed he knew why Pike hadn't asked him. Or – Maybe he had, and Jim hadn't been listening.
"Yeah," Bones agreed, leaning back in his chair. Jim leaned back, too; and Bones crossed his arms, making himself comfortable for the conversation to come.
After a second, he said, "Thing is, it got me to thinking… How would I know? I mean, whether there's anything different, anything to tell – to someone who would know, or care?" He glanced at Jim. "After that crap in the bar…"
He shook his head, and with it, shook away the grimace forming. "Do you realize that there really isn't anyone on this ship who worked with Spock, before - " a pained pause "well… Before?"
Kirk's own face must have said something, because McCoy nodded.
"Spock assigned a bunch of the crew; trained them, sure. In that sense, they know him. He was an instructor, probably, to half the people on board - and Lord knows, his tests put the fear-of-God into most of those – but as far as anybody who actually worked with him, there aren't many: Certainly not ones who worked with him as more-or-less equals, like Pike, or Puri, or McKenna, even. The experienced guys got divided up, sent throughout not just the fleet, but Starfleet itself."
"True," Jim said. "A bunch of the people who'd ordinarily be out here are grounded, rebuilding…"
He hadn't really thought about that, either; but (although he had held out hope, after making his case) he had more-than-half expected Spock to not report as the Enterprise shipped out – needed at the Academy, perhaps, or on the infant Vulcan Colony.
"Right, or at bases or whatever." McCoy wasn't finished: "It's one more thing that sets Spock apart. You and me, Jim, we got all kinds of guys on this ship who know us. Some might not like us much – though I suspect that's changing – but we've got a bunch that we've had the common experience with, of starting off, if you will, with a bang. Guys who'll tell stories of early days, the Academy - stuff like that - department tests, weekend leaves, acts of stupidity… So, even though you've leaped ahead, you still got history – See?"
"Yeah, Bones, I see what you mean." Jim pulled his legs back under his chair, wrapped his arms across his chest. He felt suddenly cold.
Silence fell while the implications struck home. Then he remembered something, and took heart: "Uhura."
He glanced up to see McCoy shaking his head.
"Doesn't count." The doctor had clearly already had that thought: "She didn't serve with him.
"Yeah, she knew him before - but her experience, honestly, is more like ours than his." Bones shook his head again. "Think about it."
And Kirk had to admit he was right. Even if the two had 'history,' it wasn't the kind Bones meant.
"Besides," McCoy said, "the Spock she knows is (presumably) different, in a way, than the one anyone else would know, anyway, right?"
True.
"Long story short, Jim," McCoy declared, "I started looking around.
"There are a couple of guys in Security who went on missions with him when they served on the Farragut – your old friend is one of them, by the way – but, though they 'have great respect for the Commander' (superior officer that he is), they wouldn't notice if he grew a third arm.
"Same with the guys in the Sciences Department, though for different reasons: They love the man – love him - Seriously, Jim, you should hear them! – but they are in awe of him, too. I think they wouldn't be a bit surprised if he suddenly displayed the ability to walk on water…"
McCoy allowed himself a tiny derisive snort, before he went on.
"But really, that's about it.
"Hannity had served with Pike. She's around, sure, but she hardly had anything more to do with Spock then than she does now. Kyle, too.
"But Puri? Dead. Schnessel? Dead.
"McKenna? Transferred; same with Depew. Also Rawlings, Yu, Barbiano...
"And Chris Pike is grounded - and worried."
McCoy looked up at Jim, shaking his head. "Worried. Not a lot, just a little - like you would be, about a friend that you hear about, taking the kinds of risks we do…"
His shoulders rose and fell, in another small shrug. "But enough to ask. Enough to make that call.
"Maybe –" He eyed Jim, his gaze becoming speculative. "Enough to risk it getting back to you?"