Third-class mechanic Johann Stone stared at the recycling tanks with a look of defeat. The Enterprise had three main tanks: liquid purification, potable water, and septic. Of course, it was the septic tank that was acting up, and naturally, it was her job to investigate the issue. It was always her stuck dealing with that damn shit tank. Three meters high with a two-meter circumference of pure joy.

Sighing, she climbed the ladder fixed to the metal outer casing and reached the walkway that surrounded the mess. She entered the access code on the small console, and the lid retracted like a flower around the incoming pipe, revealing the white polymer tank. Jo grimaced as the delightful odor hit her throat. There was a damn leak, and she was going to have to wade through this crap for the rest of the day. Disgusted, she walked around the walkway and grabbed the ladder that led down into the narrow space between the plastic tank and the metal casing.

"Hey Jo!"

She climbed back up a few rungs and looked at Lieutenant Engineer Rick White, her direct superior.

"What?"

"The commander wants to see you."

"Huh?"

She pushed a strand of brown hair back, leaving a streak of grease on her nose, and glared at him from her perch.

"Which commander?"

"The only one."

"Spock? The guy with the pointy ears?"

"Yep. He wants to see you."

Jo stared at him, stunned.

"Why?" she asked incredulously.

White shrugged.

"Hell if I know."

"He wants to see me where?"

"In his office."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Nope," he said.

"This is a joke, right?"

"These are the orders, and you'd better get moving," he said, turning on his heel.

Johann turned off her light, feeling a twinge of anxiety. For a mere mechanic, a high-level meeting was never, ever good news. Last week, she'd broken Fritz's nose, but it was kind of an accident, and he'd brought it on himself. Anyway, girls who let themselves get groped without reacting were in for it, so she was definitely in the right! Maybe he'd filed a complaint?

She descended the service ladder, slathered her hands with disinfectant gel, wiped them off, and headed to the officers' quarters. It wasn't until she arrived that the shocked stares of the crew made her realize she should have changed before showing up to the top brass' area.

Jo wasn't exactly ugly. Her rugged and somewhat rough features lacked finesse, and her posture wasn't the most charming, but despite this lack of grace, she wasn't exactly out of place among the others—at least, as long as the others were ordinary types. But here, it was a whole different ballgame. In her large, red oil-stained jumpsuit, her messy brown hair tied up in a poorly done bun, and a grease smear right across her nose, she stood out seriously from the local girls, who all looked like the bimbo type.

She ran her hands through her hair, trying to tidy it up a bit, but quickly deemed her efforts futile. You didn't see many girls in uniforms like this down in the Enterprise's lower decks. Occasionally, but bunched together in a hallway, it was quite a shock. Damn it, did she really have to look like this to parade in the officers' quarters? And where the hell was that damn office? Of course, that bastard commander hadn't said a word. He probably thought mechanics learned their damn office numbers out of sheer devotion.

"Excuse me."

A tall blonde woman with her hair styled in a checkerboard pattern stopped and stared at Jo in disbelief.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Commander Spock's office."

"And you are?" asked Janice Rand, stepping back as if afraid of contamination.

"3rd class Johann Stone. ID SC214-820. Cleaning crew."

The woman, with an almost otherworldly beauty that seemed to radiate plasma surgery from a mile away, looked uncertain.

"Commander Spock, are you sure?"

"That's what my section chief, Lieutenant Rick White, told me."

"Alright. Follow me," Janice said with a somewhat forced smile.

They walked down a corridor lined with doors, thankfully less crowded than the main one. As she followed the pin-up, Johann couldn't help but feel a pang of pity. When you're stuck wearing such a crappy uniform, you'd better stay on top of your hair removal. And on those bad days of the month, it must be a real hassle to walk around in your underwear. The tall blonde stopped in front of a door and pressed the green button.

"Commander Spock, I have Johann Stone from the cleaning team here. She says she has an appointment."

Jo wondered if she often made introductions before opening the door. Something told her it wasn't a common practice. Maybe she feared Jo was there for some vengeful mission and might start hurling blobs of motor grease at the commander's head.

"Yes. Thank you, Miss Rand," crackled the intercom.

"Miss Stone," Janice said, opening the door with barely concealed disbelief.

Jo thanked her, thinking that her reaction wasn't surprising since she was equally clueless. She entered the second-in-command's quarters, where he stood behind his desk to greet her.

"Thank you for coming 3rd class Stone."

"Commander."

Though she had often heard about him, she had never really seen the commander up close. It was clear that the cleaning crew was rarely in the limelight when the glorious personage made an appearance. She thought that apart from the ears and eyebrows, he didn't seem as strange as people said. Anyway, on the tech floor, there were all sorts of rumors. Some said he was a genius, others that he was a complete jerk, some that he was cruel, and others that he was hot.

As far as she was concerned, the only thing she knew for sure was that whatever the reason for his summons, begging wouldn't help since Vulcans had no emotions. That much was agreed upon by everyone.

She swallowed, intimidated by being in the presence of such high authority.

"Please have a seat," he said, indicating the chair in front of him.

The young woman looked at him with an embarrassed expression that highlighted the grease stain on her nose.

"Sorry, sir, my work clothes aren't very clean."

"That's of no importance," he said, sitting back down himself.

The mechanic stood still for a moment, then, summoning her courage, she moved toward the black polymer chair and sat down awkwardly.

"Look, if this is about the fight… I just want to say that I'm sorry. I truly regret it."

"That falls under the responsibilities of your section chief. Address that issue with him."

The young woman looked at the Vulcan, thinking she must have appeared quite foolish.

"Yes, sir."

"3rd class Stone, I've asked you here to offer you a mission."

The ship's first officer seemed absorbed in the contemplation of his desk, as if searching for the right words while Jo blinked, certain she must have misheard.

"A mission, sir?"

"It's a mission of critical importance to the Enterprise's operations," he said, still focused on his desk.

He looked up at the stunned young woman.

"I have carefully reviewed all potential candidates. And you are my first choice. You possess, I believe, all the necessary qualities."

Jo couldn't believe her ears. A mission? He was going to give her a promotion? To her?!

"I chose you, among other things, for your exemplary discretion and your psychological profile."

"It's an honor, sir," Jo said, who had been expecting to get problems.

The first officer remained silent, staring at the desk.

"And what does this mission involve, sir?"

"It's… delicate," he said, frowning.

"Delicate, sir?"

"I don't wish to elaborate, but just know that Vulcans face imperatives they must obey or die," he said, looking embarrassed.

Spock got up from his chair and took a few steps toward the door. For a moment, Jo had the surreal impression he was going to flee the office, but he stopped and, after a brief pause, turned to look at her with dignity.

"I will soon need a mating partner."

It took a few seconds for Johann's brain to process the words, and she blinked.

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"I have chosen you to be my mating partner, Miss Stone, if you accept, of course."

"Uh… is that the mission you were talking about?" Jo asked incredulously.

He nodded affirmatively.

"Sir, just to be sure I understand, your mission is that you want to have sex with me, right?"

Spock looked up.

"Yes."

Jo stared at him, unable to believe it. First off: this jerk thought he could just order engineers around like he was picking from a menu. Second: he dared to call this a mission. Third: he was announcing it like the biggest jerk ever to wander the stars. For a scumbag, he was the crème de la crème.

Cursing under her breath, Johann rubbed her face, spreading the grease stain on her cheek. She could handle guys like Fritz from her team, but with bosses, the situation was a lot trickier. This perverted weirdo with the pointy ears clearly deserved to have his balls squashed. Unfortunately, he was way too high up for that. The usual method for dealing with morons was out of service, and basically, she was screwed.

She glanced at the room behind the partition. It was decorated with red velvet curtains and even had a candle in the corner. Clearly, the love nest was all set up, and she'd have to play it smart.

"Sir… if I may…" Jo said, forcing a polite smile from her seat. "There are girls on the ship who have a thing for you and would be happy to meet all your needs. Me, you see, no offense, but you're not really my type."

"They don't have the required qualities," he said, clasping his hands behind his back.

Great, a perv with a fetish for dirty uniforms, she thought.

"You know you have a real fan club here. Even mechanics, if that's your thing."

"That aspect is irrelevant," he said, staring at her.

"Irrelevant? So what? What turns you on is girls who aren't turned on by you?"

He looked at her seriously, then sat back in his chair.

"The situation is more complex," he said, joining his hands like a damn teacher preparing to bore student with his crap.

Jo stood up abruptly and stepped back like a trapped animal.

"Look, I don't care. Thanks for the offer, but I'm not interested," she said with a sorry look.

"You are the most qualified person for this mission, Miss Stone. Given the circumstances, this qualification is crucial. I must insist that you consider this mission seriously."

In other words, she'd better play along if she didn't want to pay the full price for having dared to refuse his incredible manhood. It was truly bad luck. The real deal. And Johann felt a wave of intense anger.

She had joined Starfleet as a specialist mechanic, but she'd been "temporarily" assigned to the cleaning crew, and now she'd been stuck maintaining this crappy ship for a year. Sure, her blunt ways could be off-putting at times. She understood that no one ever got promoted by spitting on the floor and breaking noses. That's why she became a mechanic, and she was really good at it. Yet none of her superiors seemed capable of recognizing it. Over time, she came to think that, in the end, all that mattered was knowing how to shake your ass and drop your pants at the right moment. Unfortunately, she had no talent for that and regretted it deeply.

To be honest, she was fed up. She was fed up with this damn ship, fed up with the recycling tanks, and fed up with all these assholes who looked down on her. And if one thing was for sure, it was that she wasn't going to let some alien scumbag bang her to keep a job she couldn't care less about.

The limit had been reached. She was done. It was today that she was leaving this mess, and before she left, she wasn't going to hold back.

"Sir, since you're treating me like a whore, I'll return the favor. Let me tell you, you're a filthy pervert who thinks he's above everyone else, but you know what? You're wrong. And your 'mission,' you can roll it up nice and tight and shove it where I think. 'Sir.'"

She felt a huge wave of relief. It was finally over. They'd probably kick her out as soon as they could, and she was done with all this shit.

"You know that insulting a commanding officer can lead to a court-martial, Miss Stone," Spock said as he stood up.

"Right now, you're not a commanding officer; you're just a rutting idiot who thinks he can do whatever he wants," she spat, moving behind his chair in case she needed something to throw at him if he tried anything.

"You're mistaken, Miss Stone," he said calmly. "I am nothing of the sort. But I will not take offense at your insults, as, under the circumstances, your reaction aligns with the traits of your personality that motivated my choice."

"Are you some kind of crazy sadomasochist or something? What's your problem?"

Spock sat back down and gestured for her to do the same, but she preferred to remain standing behind her chair.

"As I've already told you, the problem is an imperative to which my species is forced to submit."

"Oh, right. So, you need to get sucking off or you're going to die, is that it?"

He raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the suggestion.

"This mission does not involve anything of the sort," he specified.

"Sorry, I thought I understood that you wanted to screw me."

"The fact is, I don't know exactly what will happen, but I am fairly certain that the practices you're referring to will not be necessary."

"You want to screw, but you don't know what's going to happen?" she said, looking at him with curiosity.

"No. I don't know. And that's why choosing the right partner is important," he said as if it were obvious. "You have the most suitable profile. Any other crew member would be at greater risk. Therefore, it is in the best interest of your colleagues and the Enterprise that you accept this mission."

"Sir, my answer is no. You can drop dead, I don't care. You can screw the entire crew, I don't care. And you can even fire me over it. Okay? Can I leave now? I've got a tank full of shit waiting for me."

Spock watched her with a serious expression.

"This reaction does not align with the dominant traits of your personality."

Johann nearly choked with indignation.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but being served up to the bosses like a pizza is not at all part of my personality traits."

He looked at her intently.

"Miss Stone, are you currently afraid of something?"

She stared at him in astonishment.

"You're kidding, right?"

But his serious look indicated he was not joking at all.

"Alright. You're the commander and I'm a third-class mechanic, which means you have all the power and I have none. And now you're bringing me here to tell me you want to fuck me, and you don't get why I might be worried?"

He looked at her as if his brain were firing on all cylinders.

"Are you afraid that I'll force you to mate with me?"

"Let me think… Yeah, I'd say that's about it," she said with sarcasm.

"Any action of that nature is prohibited by regulations," he said in a tone that suggested she should have known that. "I specified that I was offering you a mission. A proposal can be accepted or declined. Furthermore, I emphasized that it requires your consent. Therefore, your concern is unfounded."

Jo thought she was starting to understand why no one could get along with the first officer: he had nothing human about him.

"Sir, proposing sex is not and will never be a mission," she tried to explain.

"It is, however, the case right now."

She stared at him, taken aback. He was seriously treating this nonsense as a mission.

"I don't understand, sir."

Spock nodded imperceptibly.

"No, indeed."

He looked down at his workbench and sighed as Jo nervously tapped the back of the chair.

"I'd have preferred not to come to this, but it seems logical that it is necessary," he said as if to himself.

He remained still for a moment as if it pained him to come to this resolution.

"Given that the interests of the Enterprise are at stake in this situation, there is a way I could give you all the necessary information," he said, looking up at her again. "A mind meld that would allow you to access my memory and my mind."

"A mind meld? You can do that?" Johann asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"And you want to do that… now?"

"Yes. If you agree, of course."

Jo regarded him with suspicion. Her mother had told her that crazy things could happen to those who joined Starfleet, but even she wouldn't have imagined being pulled out of a shit tank only to face an alien boss who wanted to fuck you and perform mind melds.

Without worrying about politeness, Jo let out a burp that summed up her feelings about the situation, then she looked up at the commander who raised a disapproving eyebrow but maintained a stoic attitude as he waited for her response.

Note - To be perfectly honest, I doubt that the canonical Spock would stoop to directly sharing his memories of the Pon Farr even if the safety of the Enterprise were at stake; let alone with a foul-mouthed crew member who is at the very bottom of the hierarchy. However, since this interesting strategy is the most effective way to move forward and the alternative is to spend five pages explaining the thing to a clueless mechanic who swears at everything, I hope you will forgive me for this slight departure from canon.

On the subject of crewman ranks, Starfleet grants three, with the third being the lowest. It is in the serie Enterprise that we see these ranks appear for the first time, but of course, it would make sense for TOS to apply them the same way.