Thanks to everyone who read and to sunsethill, She-Elf23, and FrankieHS for reviewing. And sorry about the (very) late update, work has been busy enough to leave no time for writing these past couple months.
Note: Spock might be seeing Sarek as a slightly better parent here than he appeared to be in ToS, but then again Sarek looked like a better parent in the first AoS movie, so I'm going with that. Although I suppose you could also credit massive mutual trauma, all things considered. Winona Kirk, however, is not seen as a particularly good parent.
"Don't even," Jim said, his hands on his knees as Spock came to a halt beside him.
"An exceedingly unclear demand." Jim was breathing more heavily than Spock considered appropriate, and his heart rate was unnecessarily elevated as well, but it did not appear that he would require assistance provided that he allowed himself another two to three minutes of recovery time. It was certain to near unity that Spock could guarantee that with simple conversation, and under the circumstances he saw no reason that such conversation should not be targeted. "Perhaps, given your unwise decision to sprint at this point in your convalescence, it would be best to allow your vitals to stabilize before attempting a complete sentence."
Jim took a deep breath and then straightened. "A comment like that might make somebody sorry that he didn't push you into a lake when he had the chance. Just saying."
"Regrets remain illogical, but to feel such for an action that had no possibility of success is particularly so."
"Right." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Vulcan kids probably don't play with water balloons, do they?"
"While I am able to make certain extrapolations as to the meaning of the term based upon the individual component definitions, my unfamiliarity with the combination as a whole would indicate that you are correct. However, based upon your expression, I also take this to be a less-than-veiled threat."
"Only if I can find some." A pause. "Or convince Bones to bring some."
"Indeed." Spock would research the matter and take protective steps as necessary. "I infer from your reference to 'kids' that said threat is quite juvenile and thus might I suggest that a nap would be appropriate when we reach your home?"
Jim stared for 0.41 seconds and then broke down laughing. "You know, for someone who claims to put logic over emotions, you enjoy giving me crap way too much. And don't give me that look, after a year I know it when I hear it."
"Really, Captain, I am quite certain that I would never do anything so vulgar."
"Uh-huh. What about water guns?"
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Your heart rate and breathing appear to have steadied. Do you require additional time to rest, or are you prepared to continue back to your family home at a more acceptable pace?"
Despite Jim's eye roll, he fell back into step with Spock, and although his vitals once again increased as they moved into a jog, it was not to an excessive extent. Not that Spock was inclined to increase his pace above that which he normally ran at regardless of what they'd been doing on the run out.
When they passed the house that Jim had identified as previously belonging to his aunt and uncle, the timeline discrepancy returned to the forefront of Spock's mind, and he glanced to the side.
"Hm?" Jim asked.
"If it has been at least ten years since your aunt and uncle lived in that house, may I assume that that was the point at which they left Earth for Alpha III?"
Jim's forehead creased, but he also shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, sure, assume away."
"But if that was the case, you could not have been more than sixteen years old, standard. As you have also stated that they left slightly after your mother and stepfather, should you not have accompanied them?" The most likely reason that a Vulcan of similar age would separate from an emigrating family would be educational needs, but Alpha III had facilities on par with the majority of those on Earth, particularly those in this region, rendering that explanation somewhat improbable.
Jim's focus snapped forward again, and he would almost certainly have put on a burst of speed if Spock hadn't caught the running belt strapped crosswise on his back and prevented the action. The tug got him a glare, but he spoke before Jim could verbalize an objection.
"You are aware that you are also not required to answer. I did not intend to cause distress."
Jim made a sound that might have been a choked laugh and then shook himself and waved Spock off. "Relax, I'll be good. And it's fine, I should have seen that coming. You auto-math more than anyone else I know. Which is both cool and occasionally kind of terrifying."
At some point Spock was going to require his definition of 'terrifying,' but now was not that time.
"Was going to say that it's a long story, but I guess it really doesn't have to be." Jim returned his attention to the road ahead. "Mom didn't want to deal with me after, and they were gone within a couple weeks of me getting home. But my aunt and uncle never asked to have me dumped on them, either, so while they put up with me for a couple months, when I got into trouble they decided that'd be a good time for them to take off too. After all, there was no way that I wasn't going to be spending some time in juvie—juvenile detention—so there was no reason to stick around."
He went quiet again as Spock attempted to process that near-impossible declaration. In the years during which he and Sarek had been estranged, it had been because neither had seen the logic in communicating with someone with whom he could only disagree. But even then Spock had never doubted that if he had reached out, if he had needed his father, Sarek would have responded. And that was his father, and regarding himself at the age of full majority. His mother during the years of his childhood? Something of the magnitude of Tarsus IV would have been followed by her insistence that he remain at her side for months afterwards. Possibly even years.
"To be fair, couldn't deal with me was probably more accurate," Jim continued after a moment. "Not that I appreciated the whole 'Since he's familiar with the medical facilities on Casperia it would be best if you found him a foster family local to the hospital' bullshit, hence hacking myself a ticket back to Earth in the first place, but I was real messed up, and I don't just mean physically. Frank—" He shook his head quickly. "Doesn't matter. I pulled a knife on him, and that was it. And then technically I should have gone into foster care when I got out since you're right and I was still shy of eighteen, but while I was in better shape by then mostly since you don't get to opt out of treatment in juvie, I still wasn't the most cooperative kid you've ever met. Especially when it came to strangers. When I ran away and showed up at the house again...I don't know. Everybody just looked the other way. I cut school way less than most kids around here anyway."
"Unacceptable." While Jim's summary was distinctly lacking in details and the few that it had included were disturbing enough to require further analysis, Spock was entirely confident in his conclusion. "I do not question your competence, but as a minor you were entitled to care regardless of need."
Jim shrugged. "I'm pretty sure that I don't need to quote you statistics on the number of unacceptable things that happen every day, and if I tried you'd probably end up correcting me anyway. Besides, being left alone in a house with a solid roof and a functional synthesizer? Not exactly a terrifying hardship. I managed fine." A pause. "And I wasn't that shy of eighteen."
'That' was unacceptably vague, and given what he'd recently learned, Jim's definition of 'terrifying hardship' was an even more unacceptable baseline. However, Jim had started to pick up speed again, and since it wasn't to an extreme degree and they were now less than two kilometers from the house, Spock simply matched him rather than continuing to object. Not that his objections had in any way diminished, but it was clear that voicing them would only cause additional upset.
Once inside they separated to clean up and change, and perhaps not unexpectedly Jim spent longer upstairs than Spock did in the guest room before reconvening in the kitchen for breakfast. Where Jim remained unusually quiet and disinterested in his food, and in this instance Spock expected that Dr. McCoy's presence would be beneficial since physical reassurance would almost certainly be the most efficacious response. Unfortunately Dr. McCoy would not arrive until tomorrow, and while Spock had become accustomed to claps on his shoulder and hands on his arm over the course of the past year, he was not in the habit of initiating such gestures.
Nor were any obvious subjects of conversation presenting themselves.
"So, uh, how much work do you have left on your paper?" Jim asked.
Spock blinked. It was a topic that he had considered and discarded as irrelevant, but if Jim was curious, there was no reason to refrain from answering. "I have completed all but the introduction and conclusion, after which I will also need to write an abstract in order to submit."
"Don't people usually do the abstract first?"
"While that choice of ordering is not uncommon, given the expected use of the abstract as a summary of the work, I would not choose to do so unless I had an experiment with results expected to add substantive value still in progress at the time submission was required." He considered for a moment. "And even so, I would prefer to submit to an edition with a later publication date rather than risk any possible external influence on my findings."
That got a flicker of visible amusement, although Jim's attempt at a smile held little of the ease that Spock was accustomed to. "So abstract first is sciencing wrong?"
"'Sciencing' is not a word, and as such that is not a statement that I would choose to make." They'd spoken about his research previously, at least at a high level, but he recalled no discussion of the publications to which he most commonly contributed. "Are you familiar with the Interplanetary Journal on Spatial Anomalies?"
Jim shook his head but didn't appear disinterested, and since Spock was knowledgeable about a number of the recent research tracks that the journal in question had supported, he was able to present them with no concerns regarding accuracy. The captain might not share his expertise when it came to specific scientific details, but he was both intelligent and conversant enough with the subject of spatial anomalies as a whole to follow and ask appropriate questions, and by the time they'd finished discussing what Spock considered the most significant articles from the latest edition, both of their bowls were clean.
Spock's satisfaction at that conclusion must have been more obvious than was appropriate because Jim smiled again, slightly more genuinely this time, as they stood to clear the plates. "Look, my family is fucked up. I don't think about it much, mostly because I prefer not to think about them at all, but since we're here, it's the sort of thing that's going to come up. At least if you don't already know where the minefields are. It's...fine." A snort. "Although if you want a load of psychobabble, ask Bones his opinion on why I come back here at all instead of making a home base a few solar systems away like a normal person."
"I do not desire 'a load of psychobabble,' but neither do I wish to cause additional distress," Spock admitted. The statement that he did not understand would be entirely superfluous.
A snort. "Oh, I'm very sure that there's absolutely nothing about my family's dysfunction that can be blamed on you." He paused. "Well, I suppose half-human means there's got to be a common ancestor somewhere back in our family trees, but we might be approaching gills by that point."
It was an opening, however small, and Spock tilted his head. "I would perhaps allow for a primate. An early one." An overstatement, if not by as much as Jim's had been, but it did cause Jim to smile and shake his head before turning for the other room.
"Give me a hand with the entertainment center, would you? It's a pain to get down on my own, but I've patched it back together enough times to have a few guesses as to what might be wrong, and Bones likes to run weirdly disturbing documentaries in the background while he's reading."
"Of course." Additionally, he would ask no more questions regarding Jim's family unless Jim raised the subject first. "A point of clarification, however: disturbing documentaries?"
"Like 'here's a horrible surgery, terrifying disease, whatever, now don't you want some really up-close pictures and way-too-graphic descriptions that no normal person would want anything to do with?' type documentary."
"I see." It was a logical interest for a doctor, Spock supposed, or at least as close to a logical interest as Dr. McCoy was ever likely to have. He reached up to help Jim with the unit.
Given its weight Spock was uncertain as to how Jim had moved it alone previously, especially given that he must have been younger and lighter at the time, but Jim made no comment and simply dropped to his knees and popped the case open to survey the interior as soon as it was on the floor.
"How many times have you repaired this?" Spock asked, noting the collection of components in the interior, the majority of which were clearly divorced from its manufacturing origin.
"As many times as it needed it?" He looked up. "Seriously, I'm not being a smartass, I just don't know. Sam was good with anything biological, but hand him a sonic screwdriver and he'd be the one who ended up needing a patch job. And it looks like…." He blew out a breath and then shook his head. "Power conduit blew again. The specs for this thing have got to be bad."
"Do you have spares on hand? I saw no indication that your synthesizer has non-organic capability." It would be almost impossible for it to have such, in fact, given its age, but the newest versions did have some limited functionality in that area, and he would not put it past Jim to have made personal modifications.
"Yeah, I've got a box around here somewhere. I mean, I could try with the synthesizer, but considering that I had to base the model glue on the technically-edible stuff they let little kids use in school to get anything useful out of it, I don't think I'd like what it would call a capacitor." He looked around the room and then pushed himself back to his feet. "Give me a minute, I think it's probably up in my desk."
Spock nodded, reaching back to retrieve his PADD as Jim headed for the stairs. He would not restart work on his research article at this point, but he had only given his messages a cursory glance before initiating a conversation in response to Nyota's ping this morning, and three more had arrived while they were out.
Nothing that he had received overnight required a reply on his part, and of Mr. Scott's most recent messages two were in similar vein, but the last….
"Spock? Have you checked your messages today?" Jim had his PADD in his hand and a toolbox tucked under his arm as he came back down the stairs, and his focus was very much on the screen.
"I am doing so now. Mr. Scott's most recent missive is concerning, although his detailing of the problem appears needlessly convoluted." Spock would no doubt arrive at the appropriate conclusion eventually, but in situations like these he understood entirely why Jim occasionally requested that he 'skip to the end' regarding scientific explanations.
"Yeah, that's the one I'm looking at too." Jim set the toolbox down and then shifted to sit by Spock. "I can tell you that he's not wrong about the potential power draw on the tertiary generators for the aft labs, but the part I'm not sure about is how much that'll matter. You know better than me how much use your labs would be getting if we lose both the cores and the impulse engines."
Spock nodded. While Jim was admirably familiar with the general functions of all areas of the ship, he had always—quite satisfactorily, in Spock's opinion—left the specific details of running the labs to Spock. "Unfortunately that generator would be required to supply power to three systems seconded to sickbay in case of emergency, and I would submit that the loss of both engines would indicate precisely that. If you agree with Mr. Scott's assessment regarding the power draw, then he was quite accurate in flagging it as a necessary deficit requiring address."
Jim nodded, leaning over to look at the systems Spock had flagged and then settling back with a shake of his head. "Knowing Scotty he'll be back in his office by now. Let's see if he's free, because we're not launching like that, and the shipyard will bitch less if we get the changes in before they start the final hookups. I mean, we're still going to hear about it, but…."
It was a logical course of action, and Spock refrained from suggesting that the shipyard would be entirely professional about the situation. Mostly because experience said that they were in the majority human and thus Jim's assessment was likely to be the more accurate. He shifted slightly so they would both be visible in the feed of Jim's PADD.
"Morning, laddies," Mr. Scott greeted as soon as the connection was made, the remains of a sandwich in one hand and a number of diagrams tacked haphazardly to the wall behind him. "Guessing you got my messages, then."
"We did," Jim agreed. "And while the turbolift control spacing, standardized intercom heights, and synthesizer security measures all seem in line with current Starfleet specs, that lack of emergency power to the aft labs looks like something we need to correct. And nice find, but how did the design engineers miss it when they were redoing the layout in the first place?"
"Best I can figure?" Mr. Scott waved his sandwich and nearly lost a slice of tomato. "They didnae do the calculations in the first place. After all, don't you know the odds of a complete core failure at the same time that the impulse engines go down?"
"Of course. Factoring in our mission history over the course of the past year as well as our probable upcoming charter, they are approximately f—" Spock broke off at Mr. Scott's expression and Jim's groan. "While I now assume that your question was rhetorical, I fail to understand your reasoning. The statistics in question are entirely relevant given the missions that the Enterprise will be expected to undertake."
"No one's saying they aren't, but I'm betting that whoever's retrofitting the Enterprise didn't get their numbers from someone as thorough as you. Right?" Jim asked.
Mr. Scott nodded. "Aye, that's my take on it as well. Starfleet keeps actuarial tables for that sort of thing, make no mistake, but my guess is that whoever did that part of the redesign looked at the ones that included everything up to and including diplomatic couriers and came to the conclusion that skimping on tertiary generators to a theoretically non-critical area would be a good place to make up some savings. Not all their fault, mind, whoever marked those systems didn't flag them correctly," he gestured vaguely with his free hand towards one of the diagrams tacked up behind him, "but it's still the sort of thing that should have had a check since they were clearly labs and not storage."
"Right. Well, I'm not risking a hypo telling Bones that he's going to be down a nanoprogrammer, decompression chamber, and whatever the hell a laser probe is medically useful for in an emergency, so what are we going to do about it?"
For all that he was occasionally concerned about minutiae to an unnecessary degree, Mr. Scott was quite probably the most capable chief engineer in Starfleet, and indeed he had two options fully prepared for deliberation and a third at the point of a series of rough sketches. Unfortunately both of the fully diagrammed options would require significant support from the admiralty in order to have the reconfigurations implemented in an acceptable amount of time, and the last was little better, but after several hours of discussion the three of them had determined an additional variant that both resolved the issue and by Spock's estimation would also require a minimum number of approvals from Starfleet's upper ranks and associated design centers to implement.
Mr. Scott signed off with the assurance that he would have a set of fully developed schematics to them for review by tomorrow morning, and Jim grimaced as he disconnected and tossed his PADD aside. "Guess that's what I get for thinking that things were going well."
"It is highly unlikely that the aft-side tertiary power distribution system was designed specifically to cause you concern."
"Ha ha. Although what was the problem with Scotty's original ideas? I mean, I know any of them would have taken some fast talking to push through, and no matter who signs what I figure we're still going to get some foot-dragging on the shipyard side given what's going to have to get pulled out, but you don't think that the admiralty would object to us having the additional generator capability after all that we've been through, do you? I mean, it sounded like you didn't want to talk to them at all."
Spock hesitated, and Jim's eyes widened slightly.
"Wait, do you? Think that, I mean?"
"Not precisely."
"So? Come on, spit it out, you're starting to worry me."
"The development of human idioms must have been a fascinating process."
"And now you're stalling. Did something come up while I was knocked out?"
"You are aware that there were certain...concerns...among Starfleet's command hierarchy upon the launch of the Enterprise last year, regardless of the messaging given to the general public," Spock said, temporarily ignoring Jim's question regarding any events that had occurred during his most recent convalescence.
Jim snorted. "The development of Vulcan understatement must have been a fascinating process. At least half of 'em were just waiting for us to crash and burn, and I'm pretty sure the majority figured I'd be the direct cause."
While Spock might have minimized the matter slightly, Jim's declaration was a distinct exaggeration, and Spock raised an eyebrow.
"Fine, a third of them. You know what I mean, and you're still stalling."
"I am not, I am merely attempting to frame my conclusions appropriately." Specifically in a way that would not cause offense or additional distress. "As noted, there were concerns upon the launch of the Enterprise, and while I believe the majority were assuaged as our count of successful missions increased, it would be disingenuous to claim that we had no detractors at the time of Khan's initial attack upon Starfleet Headquarters."
"If that's a nice way of saying Komak still hates my guts, you're not wrong," Jim said after a moment. And then, more quietly, "And when we lost Chris, we lost our biggest supporter even after the whole mess with…." A quick shrug and he didn't finish the sentence, but it was not required, even if they had never again discussed the events on Nibiru.
"Indeed." Spock would have pointed out that it would be illogical for Admiral Komak to have specific feelings regarding Jim's intestines, but from his own observations the man did bear an illogical prejudice towards his captain as a whole. And the loss of Admiral Pike had been significant for many reasons. "Your assessment is, in the majority, accurate. Orthogonally, you are aware of my father's position, and while I have no interest in such a posting myself—indeed I expect that there must be several distinct differences between our universe and that of Ambassador Spock for any version of myself to have been willing to do so—I am not unfamiliar with the more common subtleties present in diplomatic exchanges. As such, while attending several meetings in your stead during your recovery, I could not fail to notice a distinct unrest in the upper echelons of Starfleet Command." He paused. "I find the term 'unrest' insufficiently specific and therefore unsatisfactory, but I am currently unable to find a more acceptable descriptor."
"That's okay, I think I get what you're saying. Starfleet as a whole was finally getting back to a decent baseline after last year, but between what Khan did to the Emergency Council and Admiral Marcus going off the deep end—well, and the crash of the Vengeance too—everything's all messed up again." He shook his head. "I can name everyone who debriefed me, but now that you mention it there's no way I could tell you who was really running the show never mind what most of them thought about any of it. Or what any of them really think about us now."
"Indeed."
"And that's without the fact that someone—probably several someones—have to be freaking out about the Federation Council investigation or investigative committee or whatever they're calling it that's about to happen, because you know there's no way Marcus could have built an entire ship without some kind of high-level support."
"Another point worthy of consideration. Given all of those factors, while I agree that embarking on our next mission insufficiently provisioned would be unacceptably negligent, I would also suggest that minimizing support requests to our superiors would be prudent. At least at present."
"Got it. I see your point, too...I don't think anyone would be stupid enough to pull anything openly, especially not on the flagship and with what just happened, but behind the scenes is a whole different mess." He blew out a breath. "I hate politics."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps not an opinion to spread openly given the expectations of a Starfleet captain."
Jim groaned and his elbow bounced off Spock's arm lightly. "You know what I mean. The first contact kind of politics are fun. Mostly fun. The internal organizational stuff, though, that's not a battle we're supposed to have to fight. We're supposed to be…." He shook his head and waved a hand vaguely upwards. "Out there. Literally above this."
Spock agreed entirely and was opening his mouth to say so when thunder rumbled, and both of them looked towards the window reflexively.
"You have got to be kidding me," Jim said with a sigh. "Although I guess that explains why it's looking so dark out there. I didn't think we'd been talking with Scotty so long that we lost the whole afternoon."
They had not, although the morning was now behind them, and Spock tilted his head as he considered the visible cloud cover. "Perhaps, after you complete repairs on your entertainment unit, it would be acceptable to select another model for assembly? At this point I believe it would be advisable to stay indoors."
"Yeah, sure. Actually, do you want to go dig around and pick something while I'm swapping out capacitors? It won't take me long."
"That is satisfactory." Spock pushed himself to his feet and started for the stairs, only to turn back. "You will refrain from attempting to return the unit to the wall until I have returned?"
A groan. "I'll be good, I promise."
Spock was tempted to provide him with the probability of such, but the more quickly he retrieved an additional model the less time that Jim would have to take unnecessary risks with regards to his health, and he turned back for the stairs.
He'd seen the large boxes stacked in Jim's brother's closet before although he had not looked overly closely, and after pushing the broken door a bit further aside it was the work of a moment to lift one of the top boxes clear of its compatriots and down to the floor. This did not appear to be a box that Jim had chosen from before given that it was entirely full, and he pulled out a model of Starbase 77 only to feel his breath catch in his throat.