Title: Living By Half
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Pairing: pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: Spock knows his own mind well enough to recognize when he is no longer thinking like himself. His thoughts should be deeply rooted in the practicum of logic, as any Vulcan naturally strives to be, such that no emotion so dubious as longing can take root there.
But this longing has quietly burrowed itself deep and, to his dismay, grows with the passing of each day. A disconcerted Spock finds he cannot face his closest companions without being acutely aware of wanting something more than friendship. Spock needs to take back control of himself.
Yet in attempting to do so, he discovers he must make peace with himself. But an unexpected change in plans may just ruin his chance at a happy future with Kirk and McCoy.
A/N: Written for b2024 McSpirk Big Bang/b, hosted by McSpirk Events on tumblr.
I was lucky enough to have the multi-talented Tigereyes as my Big Bang artist for this project! Please check out their amazing fanmix, Spock everyone changes!
To Tigereyes45, you have been wonderful. This Big Bang story - and the whole event! - would have not happened without you. Thank you for cheering me on, for contributing your talent to the fandom, and for making a safe haven for us McSpirk fans!
Part One
Spock is not hiding. He is observing the promotional slideshow Federation Friends! from a secluded corner that keeps him out of the way of others. Tonight's affair is of the most banal variety, executed in perfect accordance with the regulations such that no complaints should find their way to either high-ranking Starfleet or Federation officials with punitive authority. Only one small troubling matter this evening affects Spock personally.
Spock spies his little problem—well, to be more exact, it is of moderate height for that species—slipping between crowds of jovial (and possibly inebriated) officers. This problem, a Consul Heng-ren of an inquisitive and gregarious nature, is quite probably seeking out Spock for another conversation. Spock does not wish to engage in another conversation, not after four such laborious occurrences of discourse with Heng-ren, who seems to think Spock is both fascinating and all-knowing on a particular subject.
The two of them belong to a very limited number of non-human individuals at this party—and among this select group, Spock has more years of experience with humans than the others combined. Quite probably Heng-ren believes that Spock's expertise should be uncontested by default, having recently learned that Spock was raised by a human.
However, in reality neither Spock's years of service in Starfleet nor his half-blood origins and human parent makes Spock a subject matter expert on the Terrans' peculiar kind of humanity. As a species, they are ever-changing and diverse in their mannerisms to the extent that a dedicated library databank could not capture their idiosyncrasies.
Heng-ren pauses in the crowd as if alerted to something, and his head begins to turn in Spock's direction.
Spock abandons his sideways viewing of the giant screen, which now boldly flashes 'All Walks of Life Are Welcome!' in bold neon print encapsulated inside a speech bubble coming from the dignified countenance of the current Federation President. To Spock's recollection, no President has ever issued such a pointed invitation to the degree it could be considered quotable.
He slips behind one of the wide load-bearing pillars of the recreational room; because he is not calculating his movement precisely or anticipating an obstacle, it is a surprise when his shoulder knocks into an object that rocks slightly and protests, "Watch it!"
Ceasing all momentum immediately, Spock stares at the brown-haired, blue-eyed man he had unwittingly dislodged from behind the pillar. "Dr. McCoy," he says ruefully, "I did not notice you there."
For some reason, this remark brings a familiar twinkle to McCoy's eyes. "This spot's taken."
Dismayed, Spock calculates the distance to the second closest pillar. From this vantage point, it appears unoccupied, but unfortunately the quickest path there also requires crossing the Consul's line of sight.
McCoy cocks his head during a beat of silence. "Though I might be persuaded to share."
Spock steps closer, angling his body such that it is likely he is well-shielded from a majority of the mingling party-goers at the center of the room. This is possible because at the same time, McCoy shifts to lean a shoulder against the pillar, tacitly giving Spock more space to crowd in.
The doctor raises a glass of something green to his mouth and sips from it. He looks expectant.
Spock decides there is no harm in explaining if it does in fact let him stay in this spot longer. "There is someone I do not wish to meet."
The bubble of laughter from McCoy is unusually muted but still genuine. It creates a warmth in Spock's chest that he finds moderately alarming, happening so instantaneously and without warning. Had he not experienced this feeling before, he would have officially asked Dr. McCoy to take him to Sickbay for a medical scan.
"I think I know who," McCoy says, bringing Spock's attention back to the most relevant issue. "He's been pretty chummy with you since he arrived."
"If you speak of Consul Heng-ren, you are correct. And for the record, his 'chummy' behavior is without provocation."
"So he likes you. What's wrong with that?"
McCoy has a point. The friendliness displayed by the Qinaid is not concerning. It's just that Spock does not know precisely how to answer the Consul's many, many questions about human behavior.
Spock would prefer not to share this particular fact. He says instead, "The discourse he prefers to engage in is not my forte."
McCoy's eyes widen, his hand coming out to hover over Spock's shoulder for a moment. "Spock, he's not being inappropriate—?" The question is left hanging.
Oh. Now he has given the wrong impression of unwanted advances from a guest the Enterprise's chief officers have been required to entertain for the past week. "Negative. I simply meant I am not the correct source of information for sating his curiosity."
McCoy's hand retreats, joining the other one holding his drink. "That's a relief, to be frank. I can imagine what Jim would do if I had to tell him someone was deliberately making you uncomfortable."
"I would tell the Captain myself if such were the case."
McCoy shakes his head slightly, despite the faint curve to his mouth. "No, you wouldn't. You would do what you're doing now, avoid the fellow as much as possible until we dumped him back on his people."
"Dr. McCoy, the Consul is a respected and decorated government official among the Qinaid. We do not 'dump' such individuals on their home world."
"We do if they're a problem."
Ah, this is in keeping with the kind of conversation Spock enjoys. However, that thought is also something he should not share with Leonard McCoy. They consider themselves to be friends, or so he has been told by James Kirk, the other friend Spock has. The timing of the occurrence of said friendships still eludes Spock. This is a human thing, he gathers, to announce friendships as actively existing and expect the sentiment to go unchallenged.
Kirk and McCoy are people worthy of being his friends.
That declaration had originated from Spock's mother. Though she failed to mention this belief that her son had acquired decent friends until nearly two years after her visit to the Enterprise in the company of Sarek, his father.
Humans are muddling in their timing, another appropriate example of why Spock cannot possibly dictate the nuances of their thinking to Consul Heng-ren.
Again, Spock supposes it must have something to do with his human mother that the Qinaid made this assumption in the first place.
Spock considers himself someone who has taken such lengths through his formative years and beyond to specifically cultivate a Vulcan's self-discipline; all done in order to receive the acceptance from those he perceived would matter. He is someone who even now may be shunned by Vulcans and humans alike for not quite fitting as either. And lastly, Spock himself often is uncertain about what he truly is and if he would approve, should he discover himself more fully.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
"An antiquated saying," quips Spock automatically, realizing once again he has allowed too much silence between himself and the doctor.
"Stick around as long as you please," McCoy decides. "I don't think you're in the right frame of mind to debate a Qinaid anyway."
"You speak as if you have conversed with him at length, Doctor."
McCoy grins. "A little bird told me he's quite the conversationalist—if you like a lot of enthusiasm partnered with very little logic."
Spock raises an eyebrow. "Phrased as such, I suppose I am used to illogical conversationalists."
The man leans in, a challenge lending a deeper quality to his voice. "You know how to pick a fight, Mr. Spock!"
Then by all means, thinks Spock, encouraged, entertain the notion of fighting with me. We both enjoy it.
Something inside Spock grows still as he recognizes belatedly the nature of these thoughts that surfaced so quickly. Exert restraint, he reminds himself.
This other problem (one far more long-standing than the current one still searching the room for him) is coming close to overwhelming his self-control.
Yes, he is friends with McCoy, as with Kirk. But the recent shift in his pattern of thinking regarding them has left him wanting...
No, it must not be. It is illogical that he has a want at all. For defining a relationship beyond friendship between himself and these two men could have disastrous results, particularly if Spock is not capable of sustaining it to a human's level of satisfaction.
And that is Spock's true concern: he knows that he is not well-versed in how humans think and feel, most particularly in how they choose to love.
Love is not a foreign concept to Spock. On the contrary, he knows that he loves his parents, as familial love is perhaps the first, most instinctive form of love. Further, Spock can distinguish between love and affection. He feels affection for his mother and her determination to support him, much in the same way this affection exists for Kirk and McCoy. By contrast, Spock chooses respect over affection regarding his father. Sarek may often be displeased or disappointed by his son's choices, but Spock's mother says with confidence that Sarek loves Spock irrespective of their estrangement.
Spock also understands that his parents love each other. This is why they have stayed together despite clear differences in culture and in how they communicate—and, of course, despite the disparity in their lifespans.
Lastly, Spock knows he would have married without love or affection. In this, he had chosen to follow through with an arranged marriage, for having a Vulcan wife could have made him more accepted in society. If he and T'Pring mutually respected one another, he assumed the marriage would survive. But to his shock, she did not respect him or particularly care for his choices (like Sarek), and rejected him. Even now, it is not a subject he cares to think about, for all that he also feels relief to be free of her. That sting still lives in him, deep down, of not being enough to suit the Vulcan way of finding love. His mother consoled him back then while his father's manner reflected familiar disappointment.
So what can he claim to know about love, other than that there is a high probability of disappointing whomever he pursues? He is, as usual, not Vulcan enough for a Vulcan partner and, by extrapolation, not human enough for a human partner.
Spock stares into the face of McCoy and wonders if the man would ever consider a Vulcan to be a satisfactory partner.
"You," says McCoy in that moment, "need a drink, and I'm out of mine. Wait here while I grab us something."
Spock rarely drinks alcohol, McCoy knows this. But for once, Spock finds he agrees with the suggestion. They can drink together in commiseration of their woes.
"I will not move," he promises the doctor.
McCoy winks at him as he pushes away from their hiding spot and disappears from view.
Content for the time being, Spock blankets this old feeling of insecurity like turning down the flame of an outdated kerosene lamp. It's easy enough to do when he can focus on his affection for the man who, Spock hears, is at this moment lying smoothly to a certain guest consul about Spock's having retired early from the party.
Being friends with a human clearly has its advantages, but it is Leonard's kindness that Spock respects. And when that kindness is shown to Spock, is it any wonder that Spock basks in it?
He can think of no other alternative than loving such a person, even if he should not.
McCoy returns with a drink in each hand, not giving any indication of an encounter with Heng-ren, and Spock chooses to appreciate this gift without letting on that he knows about it. The party winds down. The two of them are safely tucked away in each other's good company. For that moment, little else matters.
All visitors except one have taken their leave of the USS Enterprise. The last passenger is scheduled to disembark in two solar days, with the flagship literally dropping him off on the doorstep of his home. In the interim, Consul Heng-ren remains a nuisance.
Just that morning in the officers' mess hall, the Consul had turned to Spock after staring openly at several others partaking in what he cheerfully termed 'a morning feeding ritual—how very prosaic!' and asked, "Why is that officer smiling while the other one looks most angry? Is the feeding today not fair and equitable amongst the humans?"
Spock had not invited Heng-ren to sit beside him, and it would be rather undiplomatic to ask him to leave. Spock uses the excuse of finishing a gelatinous protein cube to silently evaluate which answer he might give. He determines that he cannot disparage his comrades to a foreign official.
"A human's experiences or preferences can influence their mood. The officer who appears displeased is likely more concerned that he must be awake at this time of day than actively taking offense at his meal."
"How odd that a particular hour should make one distressed!" Heng-ren hums. "But yes, yes, this aligns with my observations whilst here. Humans are quite emotional creatures."
The Qinaid speaks as if he is not experiencing excitement over learning about human nature. Spock finds him to be quite contrary in this regard.
"Consul, I believe you are scheduled for a farewell call with the President's Office. Do you need an escort back to your room?"
"Oh, I should very much like to speak with you on the way—"
"Unfortunately, I am otherwise occupied. However—" Spock turns to the young woman near the end of the table just picking up her tray of emptied containers, "—Ensign Farrows appears available at precisely this moment."
Ensign Farrows freezes.
"Ensign, please escort the Consul to his quarters."
"Yes, sir."
Spock intentionally mutes his hearing. He does not need to listen to the litany of questions Heng-ren is already cascading upon the ensign about the perilous stability of her emotions as a human. Completing his meal, Spock exits the dining area.
Once again, he is waylaid, but this time by a more welcome presence: Uhura, approaching from the opposite direction. Usually after a greeting, they speak of whatever ship's business has prompted her to catch his attention.
Instead, today she smiles brightly and says, "Seeing you, sir, reminds me that our resident band members are having an impromptu concert this evening. They asked me to sing, and I thought you might like to join us as well."
"While the invitation is appreciated, I have plans to finish the monthly reports delayed by preparations for Consul Heng-ren's arrival."
"Oh, but you work more than the rest of us put together, Mr. Spock! Surely two hours off—"
"A highly inaccurate statement, Lieutenant. It is not possible, given that the cumulative work hours of the crew far exceed the capacity of a work week."
The officer falters in continuing the rest of her plea. "That wasn't a literal—oh never mind." Her disappointment is obvious. "I understand. Well, the invitation stands if you're interested."
Clearly his response has upset her. But he doesn't have ill intent; his interest in their sessions of shared music has not waned. He simply has his schedule set and—
Perhaps there is something of concern in his manner to Uhura, for she lays a hand upon his arm. "Mr. Spock, are you feeling all right?"
"I am perfectly well, Lieutenant." He stares at her hand until she notices and removes it. "If you have nothing further to discuss, I must attend the bridge."
"Of course."
They part ways without another word.
As the day progresses, the habitual effusiveness of the crew becomes a recurring irritation. Spock is uncertain why he is so affected—or really, why he has allowed any particular emotion to break past his facade of cool logic. But it feels like most conversations and attitudes that day are meant to test a Vulcan's willpower.
So when an engineering lieutenant pokes at his own burn wound and says, "Fresh meat, anyone?", Spock immediately—and with a slightly louder tone than usual—dresses him down for being crude.
"But it was just a joke to lighten the mood," mutters the chastened lieutenant, while the two officers who escorted him into Sickbay look equally guilty for laughing at the remark.
Spock means to tell him that joking about one's own injury is highly inappropriate when Nurse Chapel enters the exam room, looking harried.
"Lieutenant, if I hear another word from you that isn't 'I'm sorry for not putting on my safety gear before starting a repair job', I will knock you out without using a drug," the head nurse says, tone notably clipped.
The three junior officers look toward Spock, wide-eyed. Pretending not to understand the threat of violence comes easily to Spock after years of listening to McCoy. Chapel must be studying her superior officer's habits more closely these days.
Spock folds his hands behind his back, assuring Chapel, "The lieutenant will write out a detailed explanation for ignoring safety protocols—and undergo the necessary discipline for negligence while on duty."
The lieutenant droops as the nurse finishes scanning his arm and sprays the wound.
As Spock is leaving the area, he hears, "It was just a joke, Nurse... Doesn't Mr. Spock understand that humans have limited options when we're in pain? At least I tried distraction instead of passing out on everybody!"
He hastens his departure, not waiting around for the nurse's response. In Spock's experience, there is little benefit in defending his perspective to a group of individuals committed to a differing opinion. He is Vulcan; therefore he cannot understand, they think—a perception which carries some truth to it. Spock will struggle to understand a concept if it does not marry to logical thinking. But not understanding is not from a lack of refusal to understand; and not understanding isn't necessarily an insurmountable task if someone is patient and willing—and kind enough—to help him learn the difference.
It can be tiring working out those differences on his own. In an emergency, it can waste precious time.
Just let me be who I am, he wants to say. At the very least, do not fault me for it.
But of course, the fault does lay with himself. In all these years, Spock hasn't come to understand the others well enough. He wields logic like a shield, more often a barricade. To the ship's crew, he is the penultimate Vulcan.
But the truth is—the irony is—Spock is a Vulcan who has found a home surrounded by humans, making him quite the aberration. His only regret is that Heng-ren's constant questioning has stripped back an illusion he relied upon, that being this aberration no longer bothers him.
On the contrary, Spock finds that he is still bothered very much.
Being late to the weekly chess game with the ship's captain is the tipping point for Spock. As he stands before the cabin door to Kirk's quarters, he devises and dismisses each excuse he could use to explain why he is late by a quarter-hour.
If he cannot keep himself in check even here, in this place he considers somewhat of a sanctuary, then he should avoid entering the cabin altogether.
Spock is saved from his ongoing deliberation by the whistle of the opening door.
"Spock, come in," calls a voice from within.
Spock abandons the thought of walking away. When the captain calls for him, he must obey. To Jim, such loyalty is owed many times over; and, naturally for Spock, there is the small matter of wanting to never disappoint this close friend.
If Jim senses anything amiss, he doesn't let it show. Nor does he remark on Spock's uncharacteristic tardiness.
Instead, Jim offers the warm smile he always does and guides Spock with a hand to the shoulder toward an empty chair at a high-top table already laid out with the gameboard and chess pieces.
Once they are properly into the heat of the game, Spock's thoughts have cooled and aligned themselves to the orderly, direct fashion he prefers. Soon, in the moments when Kirk is clearly preoccupied with the strategy of his next maneuver, it means a comfortable respite for Spock, who only needs to enjoy the wait.
So it surprises Spock when Jim says, "Something's on your mind." The man moves the chess piece he had been staring at for over two minutes.
A simple yet deceptive move. Spock assesses the possible plays Jim is thinking of by that one move and the options for countering it. Spock decides his move and makes it.
"Spock?"
"Yes, Jim?"
"You're distracted."
Spock folds his hands in his lap. "I disagree. I believe that I am properly attentive to our game."
Jim eyes the levels of the board but doesn't pick up a piece. "Bones mentioned to me... a certain disclination to engage Consul Heng-ren."
"Dr. McCoy is in general disinclined to the pomp and circumstance required when dealing with dignitaries."
Jim smiles, likely at the thought of just how the doctor reacts to being ordered by his captain to brush off his manners and his dress uniform. "I meant your disinclination, not his."
"It is not noteworthy."
"So I could invite Heng-ren to join us tonight?"
Spock does not stop his body in time from stiffening with aversion.
"Hm," says Kirk, finally moving one of his chess pieces. "He's offended you, but... he isn't the usual kind of politician that we find offensive." At Spock's tilt of his head, Jim adds helpfully, "Such as rude, intolerant, arrogant... despotic."
Spock takes the pawn Jim just sacrificed. "I have no complaints about the Consul's character."
"Then what do I need to know?"
"There is nothing to tell you, Jim."
"Okay," Kirk says after a moment. "I'll let it go."
Spock can tell by his friend's expression that Jim isn't speaking of the next chess piece or of the game itself. Grateful to be released from further probing into his unease, Spock returns his focus to his strategy.
It's a lost cause, naturally. Jim is two moves from checkmate, and they both know it.
The long-awaited day has arrived. Spock personally escorts Consul Heng-ren to the transporter room. He returns any remark or question by the Qinaid with a perfunctory acknowledgment or simple response. Heng-ren is less enthused by the time they arrive at their destination and, for a moment, it's almost a baleful look that the Consul shoots at Spock like he knows just how deliberately obtuse and uncooperative Spock has been for the majority of his stay aboard the flagship.
Then Captain Kirk arrives just behind them, and Heng-ren is in action again.
"Captain!" he cries, reaching out to take Kirk's hand and pump it in an exaggerated motion. "I cannot speak enough of how pleasant this journey has been! You are the perfect host."
"Thank you," Kirk says dryly, "and you're welcome."
Spock's fingers twitch as Heng-ren keeps holding Kirk's hand. Jim shoots a bemused glance at Spock before gently pulling his hand away from the official.
Heng-ren goes on, "I will take this time to apologize for any previous misunderstandings between your people and my people. Let them stay in the past where they belong."
"Yes, we consider this alliance a fresh start. Now, shall we depart? You must miss your home, so we won't keep you a moment longer."
"I would not say 'missing', Captain, but it is nice to return to one's routine."
The transporter slides open to admit two security officers and McCoy.
The doctor greets them all with, "What are we all standing around for? Let's get this show on the road."
Heng-ren turns to Spock. "Are we to be transported by a road system? Terrans call them highways, I think. Why, that is exciting! The Qinaid have not traveled in such an antiquated way in over twenty ancestors!"
"I wish," says McCoy, bobbing upward on the balls of his feet. "It'd better than that contraption—"
"Bones," interrupts Kirk.
McCoy rolls his eyes at Spock, not Kirk. Spock merely raises his eyebrow in turn.
"My chief medical officer is old-fashioned," Jim explains to the consul. "I assure you, as a space-faring organization our methods of transportation utilize our most advanced technology."
Spock expects a complaint about how zapping a man's molecules through space should come with a warning label, not praise, but McCoy just firms his mouth in a way that means this time he is trying for good behavior—but likely only because they are in the presence of a newly introduced race that generally takes their words at face value.
McCoy pats the medical tricorder at his hip and inclines his head toward the transporter's platform.
Heng-ren doesn't move. He says to Kirk instead, "You and your crew have been without respite from your duties too long." He says this as if he knows it for a fact, not a guess. McCoy's surprise is equal to Spock's, but Heng-ren doesn't acknowledge them. "Captain, you would find our people's hospitality equal to your own. To honor your acceptance of Qinaid to the Federation, I invite you to extend your stay in our capital city. We would be so pleased to host you!"
"We're honored already, Consul," Kirk says. "However, this ship has a schedule to keep."
"That is unfortunate, indeed."
Kirk nods. "Speaking of schedules, we have already communicated with your retinue. Let's not keep them waiting. Please take the place between Lieutenants Kargin and—"
"I have said often to your superiors that such measures are hardly necessary. The capital is very safe."
Jim tenses ever-so-slightly. "Some measure of security is protocol for an ambassadorial delegation." And common sense goes unsaid. "I cannot dismiss them."
"Very well, let it be." Heng-ren takes his designated place without further protest.
McCoy leans toward Spock to whisper, "Those same superiors wrote a reminder into our orders that it wasn't a unanimous vote by the Qinaid to join the Federation. Surely Heng-ren isn't so oblivious that it's his head we want to keep attached!"
There is room for doubt, Spock thinks. "He understands that neither the Federation's nor the Qinaid's best interests lie in an annulment of our partnership."
"Ever the optimist, Spock."
"A pragmatist, Doctor."
McCoy harrumphs and deliberately but gently knocks his shoulder against Spock's as he ascends the platform. Spock moves to stand beside him. Jim is the last to join their party, making one final check at the controls station with Mr. Scott as is the man's habit. Mr. Scott will sit in the Captain's chair until their return.
"Energize," orders Kirk, and the slight buzzing of the energy against the skin is the tell-tale sign they are on their way.
The streets of Qinaid's bustling capital city are pleasantly clean but oddly deserted for midday. At least, from the vantage point of standing in the square of the cubical-designed complex that serves as the gathering halls and designated offices of most city-dwelling government workers. Heng-ren's retinue is an elderly bearded Qinaid and a young male bearing an arm full of blue-and-white flowers tied together.
Jim stares at the flower bundle when they try to hand it to him. McCoy swoops in, scanning the flowers first and then snatching them away from Kirk with a sharp "I'll take those!"
"Oh," the young Qinaid says to McCoy, "are you Captain Kirk's assistant?"
"His physician," corrects McCoy. "I regret to inform you that the Captain is sensitive to many flora species. Coming in contact with these flowers will likely cause a physiological reaction so unsightly it scares you."
Jim flushes slightly, his "Bones" controlled but embarrassed nonetheless.
Spock lends his support. "Dr. McCoy's precaution is well-founded. Sirs, the Captain is appreciative of your welcome gift. Please do not take offense that he cannot accept it."
"Very appreciative," echoes Kirk.
The flower bundle is handed summarily to Spock. "Commander Spock will take them!" declares McCoy, grinning.
Spock considers forcefully handing them back to the doctor with some remark about the color being a suitable match to McCoy's eyes. Jim would find that delightfully humorous no doubt.
"Wonderful!" Heng-ren says in turn. "Before we partake of refreshments, you must tour the Big Debate Hall! I'm afraid the favored hall of tourists, the Small Debate Hall, is under repair but we can walk by it on our way."
As the Qinaid usher their landing party in an eastward direction, Spock has no choice but to hold the flowers. McCoy has successfully embarrassed both his friends; no wonder he looks so pleased.
As they follow the Qinaid, McCoy remarks, "Doesn't this place seem empty? I thought the Qinaid are industrious and love to work."
Jim turns to Spock to say something but an unfamiliar Qinaid rushes in from a side galley. He sandwiches in close with the other three Qinaid, back slightly hunched as he says something too rapid-fire to be understood.
Feelings of distress skate across Spock's shielded mind, leaving behind a prickling discomfort. Cautious but curious nonetheless, he allows just a sliver of an opening in his shielding to find out why—and quickly slams his eyes closed at the impact of a seething mass of minds, more than the few nearest him, swollen with ugly emotions—
"Spock?" The low whisper is Jim's.
Spock locks his mind tightly against further intrusion and opens his eyes. He means to tell Jim that something is very wrong—
But then there is no need, for a fair amount of consternation and shouting becomes audible. The raised voices are coming from just outside. The Qinaid begin to look extremely apprehensive.
Kirk doesn't hesitate, moving with confidence toward the hall's entrance and the commotion. His officers are quick to follow him. The Qinaid reluctantly join them.
People are gathered near the bottom step of the Big Debate Hall. When Heng-ren becomes visible, they point at him and make a variety of claims: "We demand to be heard!", "You've ruined our future!", and "The votes were rigged!"
Heng-ren is pushed forward by the elder Qinaid. He places his hands together in a conciliatory manner. "Be at peace! I am Exalted Consul from the Co-Operative Federation Bureau."
As the shouting dies down, Spock's eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. His fellow officers do not hold back in exchanging odd looks.
Starfleet Intelligence reports did not identify the department from which the appointed Qinaid hailed, only that Heng-ren was a member of their consulate. Did the informants leave out this detail because the office is barely out of its infancy—created just to smooth over the tensions concerning the entrance into the Federation?
Someone yells back, "Oh yeah? We're the Organized Resistance Against the Federation!"
Clearly tensions remain poorly mitigated among the Qinaid citizens, as reflected by the group's name. Spock has nothing to say on this score; it is McCoy who hastily chokes down laughter.
Heng-ren insists, "I agree to hear you! But please organize amongst yourselves who will speak!" He pauses, then adds in clear annoyance, "This chaos is unacceptable."
That sentiment is the spark reigniting the consternation of the protestors. But this time they push forward, some marching determinedly up the deeply set steps of the Big Debates Hall. There come cries of "Betrayers!" and "Federation sympathizers!". All inkling of humor disappears. The 'red alert' comes across clearly to Spock, a term Jim uses for the sensation of encroaching danger.
Spock takes ahold of his captain's arm, drawing him backward on instinct. Kirk comes readily; all of them do, for there is little choice but to withdraw, the mass of bodies determinedly coming at them forcing them deeper into the hall.
It's obvious their two security officers are not sufficient for crowd control, but nonetheless, the pair follows their training, immediately moving into position as a first line of defense. When the lieutenants raise their phasers, Spock realizes there must be at least one hidden weapon among the teeming mass.
Kirk pulls out his phaser as well but keeps it trained on the floor as he crowds back against Spock and McCoy.
Spock detaches his communicator from his belt and flips it open, calling the Enterprise. The safest and least aggressive action is to retreat. However, repeated attempts at connecting with the ship have yet to be responded to. Spock thinks it is highly unlikely that Mr. Scott has moved the Enterprise from orbit without informing them first.
He delivers the bad news to his captain. "Jim, I cannot reach the ship."
Jim gives a half-nod showing that he heard. A second later, he twists at the waist toward Spock but his hard stare locates the Qinaid on Spock's opposite side. "Heng-ren, explain."
"I don't know!"
"Where are the capital's guards? Get them here!"
Indeed, reinforcements are the second-best option to retreat when dealing with a mob.
The youngest Qinaid grabs Spock's sleeve in distress. "We don't have any!"
Quickly the elder official explains, "The Guard are on leave, Captain. We declared today as a special rest day for Heng-ren's return. It seemed the safest course of action..."
"Clearly not," Spock interjects. "And you imply there was a certain awareness that the Consul's return would be met with hostility—yet you failed to inform Starfleet of this fact."
"An insurrection hasn't been recorded in centuries!" objects the Qinaid. "No one believed it possible! We are logical people, Mr. Spock, which as a Vulcan you should appreciate. Fighting over a matter which is already decided is simply preposterous and—!"
"Illegal," supplies Heng-ren. "But perhaps save this debate for the Small Debate Hall. What do we do about them?" he asks anxiously.
The mob is strangely calmer after entering the hall, some of them looking around in awe as if first-time visitors to the Big Debate Hall; others are still speaking angrily to one another but they have stopped pressing forward.
Spock sees why a moment later: two individuals cut a path through the middle of the crowd. They approach the Qinaid officials and, even more strangely, offer a slight bow to them.
The smaller one says, "Exalted Consuls, forgive us the abrupt manner in which we entered this sacred hall."
Heng-ren lifts his chin. "We Qinaid should not behave in such an undignified manner. What is the meaning of your defiance?"
"Justice," the other one answers, "for the demeaning of our people by selling our integrity and our autonomy to offworlders!"
"You make the Federation sound like a fascist regime," says McCoy. "How wrong you are! We're more like your galactic neighbor homeowner's association!"
"And for this crime," continues his partner, ignoring the doctor, "we are taking you, the Consuls—and these accomplices—into custody." His gaze finds Jim. "Captain Kirk, I am Mulk-dan, Resistance Leader. By now, you likely know communications to your ship are blocked. Turn over your devices and you will not be harmed."
"Outrageous!" cries Heng-ren.
"We will not cooperate under the threat of violence," Kirk says. "Based on what you said, your grievance is with your government—so be it. But my officers and I are not your enemy. We come in peace, as partners to all of Qinaid. We want to help however we can. So, gentlemen, let us talk it out."
The captain speaks pragmatically, but Spock senses the rebels are not interested in help of any kind. However, Qinaid cannot be left in a state of chaos even if Kirk manages to secure their own safe passage back to the Enterprise. The alliance is in effect. Intra-planetary disputes are within the purview of the Federation now, and there is an obligation to attempt mediation and prevent wholesale violence.
"You are stubborn, Human," remarks the leader. "Very well. As are we. Hear me!" His raised voice echoes around the hall.
People are drawn closer to listen. The look in their eyes could be characterized as manic, Spock thinks grimly.
"The government is but a house of traitors to our kind! They bring these aliens into the Qinaid! Take back what is ours!"
The outcry is far more furious than the shouts in front of the hall had been. Several Qinaid citizens are now in possession of hand weapons that resemble shortened staffs.
"Phasers set to stun," orders Kirk, lifting his voice over the outcry. Spock quickly trades his communicator for his phaser.
Then the Qinaid who had come through the galley earlier lets out a shriek of alarm as someone moves to grab at his arms. He swings out wildly and turns to flee for the galley, whose archway remains unguarded.
"Don't let them escape!" cries the second-in-command, running after him.
A wide stun pattern isn't enough to immobilize such a sizable crowd, but their first shots successfully take down the two large groups of attackers.
But then more Qinaid replace them, and more after them. They keep coming. The hall soon becomes inundated with the smell of ozone from phaser fire.
Spock is forced to dodge blows meant to bludgeon him. At the same time, Heng-ren has nearly plastered himself to Spock's back to let Spock defend him.
Spock sees Kirk back-to-back at one point with McCoy, the youngest Qinaid protected between them. The elder Qinaid has been brought to his knees in front of Mulk-dan and appears to be haranguing the leader for violating the sanctity of the grounds on which capital affairs are conducted.
A retreat isn't an option unless Spock leaves Heng-ren vulnerable to the rioters, which (as much as he is irritated by the Consul) is out of the question. It is inevitable, he thinks numbly. They will be overtaken. Even now, so many Qinaid have surrounded the two of them, cutting off the view of anyone else.
Spock moves inward to block another lunge for Heng-ren. Someone takes advantage of the opening to deliver a blow to his back that makes him stagger. Another Qinaid rips the phaser out of his hand and holds it up high, shouting triumphantly.
Spock's gaze instinctively seeks any familiar face in the hall as he is forced to his knees. But Spock and Heng-ren are alone. One security lieutenant is slumped over, barely conscious; the other is laid out on the floor next to him, eyes closed but breathing at least.
Spock doesn't see Kirk and McCoy or their young charge at all. They escaped in the melee, somehow. Relief overwhelms Spock before he ruthlessly locks it away with a maelstrom of other feelings.
"We surrender," he says.
"I accept your surrender," returns Mulk-dan. Then to those closest to him, he orders, "Lock them up!"