The smell of burnt metal teased Kirk's nostrils as he climbed down from the access hatch. He squinted, trying to make out his surroundings. Firelight flickered against the walls, casting unfamiliar shadows of rather ordinary objects, now mangled and out of place due to the chaos. Wicked hot in here, he thought to himself. He stepped over a forgotten tablet, heart pounding, crouch-running towards the bend in the hallway with his phaser rifle carefully extended in front of him.

He stopped, breathing quietly, and flicked a gaze around the corner. Nobody there. Turning in place, he pulled out his comm. "Spock?"

No answer.

He whipped his head around, trying to think where he'd last seen the first officer. Focus… The access tunnels. Yes. He was right behind me. Tip-toeing back the way he came, Kirk paused, prepared for any possibility.

Except this.

He stepped in and looked up into the hole he'd come from. "Spock?" He couldn't see him. But then he couldn't see green blood dripping, either.

"I am here, sir."

Whew… "Why didn't you answer me?"

"I am pretending I am in a treehouse."

What? "What?" Kirk facepalmed. "Spock, not now…"

"I always wanted a treehouse. But my father would not build me one."

Kirk ground his teeth together, barely restraining his frustration. "Spock. I am your captain and I order you to come down and finish this mission."

Nothing.

"Spock. Now."

"Very well, sir." Spock dropped down from the hatch and followed Kirk as though nothing had just happened.

Kirk sighed with relief.

Some time later

"I don't know what to make of it. It couldnae have gotten up and walked away…"

Kirk stopped the chief engineer by grabbing his arm gently. "Something wrong, Scotty?"

He looked up from the tablet he was holding, his brow furrowed. "You could say we have a bit of a mystery on our hands, sir. I've just been going over the inventory of our cargo." He tsked, shaking his head. "Let me ask you this, sir; how does an entire crate of pre-fabricated housing material go missing? On me watch?"

"Really? Let me see that." Kirk took the tablet and read the cargo manifest. Sure enough, everything was accounted for, except for the one crate. "Now that is odd. " He stroked his chin. "I could see food, or precious metals, or weapons being taken, but an-" Something pinged in his memory. Oh no, not that… "an entire crate….of pre-fabricated…housing material." His expression changed from confusion to rage as the words sunk in.

Shoving the tablet into Scotty's middle –"Oy, what's gotten into you?"- he stomped down the hall, his face a bright crimson. Plowing into the turbolift, he growled, "Arboretum."

When he arrived on the correct floor, he ran out the door, nearly crashing into several crew members. He was fairly sure what he'd see when he entered the artificial garden.

Kirk pounded over to a large "arboreal specimen", as his suspect would refer to it, and his suspicions were confirmed. High in its branches, a large structure had been assembled from the prefabricated housing parts. The empty crate lay in the corner, still open. A rope ladder extended from the door of the structure to the base of the tree.

"SPOCK!"

"Do you like my treehouse, sir?" The Vulcan remained irritatingly hidden behind the walls of the house.

"Spock. Get down. That is a direct order."

"Sir, since I am currently off duty, I believe I have the right to recreation, do I not?"

Kirk punched his open palm. "That's it. I'm coming up there…"

"What is the password?" Spock intoned calmly.

"Let's see, how about 'Spock's an idiot.'"

"That is not it."

Kirk grimaced. "'Logic.'"

"Rodentia. You guessed."