(A Star Trek story told in the style of a Jeeves and Wooster tale by P.G. Wodehouse, where Kirk has the role of Bertie Wooster, the well-meaning if not generally inept bon vivant club man and Spock takes the role of Jeeves, the invariably competent man servant. PG-13)
**Attached is a pdf version if the spacing bothers you**
"Spock, rally round!"
"Certainly, sir."
"A bit touchy, this thing?"
"I’m sorry sir, to what you are referring?"
Wait, wait, I’ve fallen out of warp already. I’m always at a loss about where to start these ghastly things. By ‘these ghastly things’ I mean these infernal Captain’s Log entries. At the Academy, Starfleet Academy that is, there is a whole class about making what one would call efficacious log entries, they don’t let you graduate without passing it. You can fail the Kobayashi Maru test, but you have to be able to make blighted log entries, a bally nuisance. I will say that once I get going it’s fine, the light of the galactic core shines and everything becomes clear, but where to start always has me entering and erasing a dozen times, such is the absolute blarmy tale of the Spock, Bones, me, the Arkellian Ambassador, the Zendarakian delegation and an escalation of tensions.
Alright then, let us go to what is call the crux of it. Spock, we’ll start with Spock, of course everything starts with Spock, how can it not. Spock is everything. This is essential, it cannot be understated. He is essential to me, that cannot be understated. Spock is a Vulcan, that race of dashing, resolutely logical humanoids, with such alluring angularity, I mean to say Spock’s feature can cut the penumbra off of a neutron star, let’s just establish that. In particular Spock is Commander Spock, First Officer aboard the NCC-1701, the Enterprise, my ship. Spock is my first officer. He is also my friend, my soul mate, my T’hy’la. . . now I don’t know if that is the right spelling and it’s ridiculously hard to pronounce, I’m always throwing in a hyphen when there should be, an apostrophe and vice versa, and my pronunciation is simply garbage. But maybe I do that to elicit a ‘Jim’ from Spock, I adore when he says my name, especially in that mildly plaintive way, like he’s fed up with my shenanigans but isn’t quite done with his patience and then does whatever it takes to make sure I’m happy.
Off course again, but this reminds me to say something at this particular juncture, that is, before we get too far down the road of this tale. It’s a pretty strongly held belief amongst various levels in Starfleet that while exceedingly capable, dare we say pathologically heroic, that James T. Kirk is an egotist of the highest order, bloviating up and down interstellar space of his singular abilities, but let me give you how I see it.
Spock and I are at the center of everything and the universe is hell bent on tearing us apart. It’s come close several times and I’ll admit I tarried a little with my head inside the portal of the Guardians of Forever, sounds worse than it was, taking a look at the timelines, we get into some scrapes, but it’s he and I again and again and again. No assignment is routine, invariably some alien is running amok, no pun intended, some civilization is too far ahead or too far behind and bam! Prime Directive and the Temporal Prime Directive go out the window. And don’t get me started about errant AI running completely amok, again, no pun intended, but I’ve talked at least a half dozen AI into the equivalent of sitting quietly in the corner contemplating the error of their ways. It is all just same bar fight, different bar, it keeps coming back to the Universe trying to separate us, it can’t, it has tried, it has given its best shot, and then thrown in the towel, I will make it throw in the towel if it takes a thousand timelines.
Now, let’s get back to the matter at hand, me and Spock on the bridge, Starfleet orders pressing on the frontal lobe like a migraine.
"What am I referring to? This missive from Starfleet, sounds quite the frost. I say we give it a pass."
"Captain, it is not a missive but rather a priority order from Starfleet. We must-"
"Divert to Risa, I mean we must be overdue for shore leave-"
"Sir, we are not due for shore leave for another six weeks, we must-"
"I’m stopping you there Spock, I think you have your facts wrong. We must divert to Risa for some well needed R&R, or rather S & J!" Now Vulcan’s don’t blush, they do color up, more like a bluish palette comes to their canvas, it’s a wonder, and I’ve got my charm on, leaning in my chair, elbow on the arm rest, fist under chin, charm flowing like molten dilithium. Rarely do Vulcans use hand gestures that touch their faces, they do not face palm or the like but this exchange has Spock raising his hand in a gesture one reads as somewhere between embarrassment and apoplexy. Love can be trying.
"Jim,’ he leans forward in this conspiratorial fashion and with voice lowered drops the proverbial, if that’s the word I’m looking for, hammer on happiness, his tone bucks no defiance, ‘we must act in accordance with our orders."
I see no way out of it. "Very well, very well indeed. Mr. Sulu,’ I adopt my casual command voice, ’Set a course for Akellia-‘, a soft cough from my right brings my gaze Spock’s way.
"Ar-keel-lia."
"Mr. Sulu, set course for Ar-keel-lia, warp factor-', the word about to come out of my mouth is ’Two’ but Spock is holding up four fingers, but there was mischief in the air and I want to recapture it and say, 'Four point five."
Sulu, like Uhura and Chekov and most of the bridge crew have been staring at us in this exchange, smiles a knowing smile, and turns back to his console with a hearty ‘Aye-aye, Captain’. The crew is the best, I’ve been told that ’Spirk Forever’ is common graffiti on the walls of the enlisted personnel’s head, I think that outside of Nurse Chapel, we have universal support amongst the crew.
I bound out of my chair and punch the comm button, "Doctor McCoy, join Mr. Spock and I in the Captain’s briefing room."
Bones gives his usual protest, "Jim, I’ve got two cases of-"
To the eternal amusement of the bridge crew I cut him off, ’Spare me your Hippocratic palaver Doctor, meet us in the briefing room.’ I punch the comm button to cut off any gibbering, turn to Sulu, ‘Mr. Sulu, you have the con,’ and swagger into the turbo lift. I don’t have to beckon Spock, he is sidling into the turbo lift at my side.
Bones was taking time getting to the Captain’s Briefing room, so I might as well use the opportunity to explain Bones. Bones is Doctor Leonard McCoy, ship’s physician. Metaphorically speaking, if I’m the heart and Spock is the brain then Bones is the enflamed spleen of the ship. Don’t get me wrong the good doctor is a dear friend, an excellent physician, and a peerless drinking partner, but he tends to be swollen with hyperbole, vacillating between ‘You can’t do that!’ and ‘You can’t just sit there and do nothing’. Never a constructive critique, prone more towards the ‘Are you out of your goddamn mind!’ motif.
I’m standing in front of the display screen, I have it on view, essentially using it as a mirror, when the doors swoosh open and the good doctor walks in the takes it all in, obviously swollen to gills with hyperbola and begins a divestiture of said pent up hyperbola.
"What the hell are you two doing, playing dress up?’
"Bones, I’m just modeling the new sash I’m going to propose that Star-fleet adopt. I think it sets the proper tone between dashing and commanding’
"Are you out of your corn fed mind, you spent too much time in that Terran Empire outfit! Spock, don’t just sit there, say something."
"I must agree with the Doctor, the sash will never be adopted by the Federation, it is too. . .bizarre."
"Oh you two are no fun, by the way Spock how are the modifications to my bridge chair coming along,’ I don’t let him start, I turned to Bones, ‘I’m having all the controls on the left arm of my bridge chair removed, so I can throw my leg over the arm of the chair without jettisoning pods or signaling a red alert."
"Have you been hitting the Saurian brandy! You’re not a pirate!"
"I have made similar appeals to the captain, but to no avail."
"You’re both colossal bores, I should never bring you in on my enlightened projects,’ I switch subjects, there is no convincing these two of fun. ’Spock, give us the rundown of this Arkwellian Zendarakian binge."
"Captain it is Ar-keel-lian and our orders,’ he pauses on that last word, stood on it like a soapbox, and pronounced ‘are to proceed to Arkellia and pick up the Arkellian ambassador, deliver her to a conference on one of the moons of Zendarak, where she will offer terms of peace to the Arkellia Zendarak conflict. We will act as mediators in the hopes of securing a lasting agreement."
"Bones, don’t you think that’s just a bowl of rotten fruit, wouldn’t be more fun if we went to Risa."
"I’m never going to Risa with either of you ever again."
"Oh nonsense Bones you had a great time."
"A great time! You taped a sign on the inside of the transgender species bathroom with ‘You can be a girl or a boy, for a good time call Doctor McCoy!’ with my room number on it! I had a line outside my door!"
"Oh, don’t act like you didn’t have fun Bones!"
Bones looked down at the table and chuckled, "Yeah, I guess I did." Bones is one of those plain paper bag type of heterosexuals, put a mint julep in his hand, a hyper mammory endowed humanoid female with a feather bikini, and the man is happy as the proverbial oceanic bivalve.
"Captain, these are our orders, we must carry them out."
"But this conflict, seems like it will work itself out."
"The Arkellian Zendarak conflict has been going on for seven centuries."
"I’m sure it’s on the wane."
"It has intensified, the most recent clash was one of the deadliest in its history."
"But they seem ready to patch it all up, why not just set up a virtual meeting, no need for us to play chauffeur!"
"Exactly the point Captain, it is at this juncture that our presence will be most needed. And the Arkellian ambassador is bringing an offering of peace."
Bones looked at the display screen as it scrolled information, "Aren’t the Arkellians big cats?"
Spock turned impassively, "Not precisely Doctor, they are distantly related to Katelians, quadrupeds that resemble earth Felidae Pantera, though with much larger cognitive and reasoning centers."
I sighed, there was no fighting this, Spock continued to pull up data to display on the monitors and, well, droned on about key players and this or that historical or diplomatic point. When he seemed to have ebbed with the regrettable stream of facts and figures I switch to Captain mode, “Alright, make sure that we have an accurate Arkellian signature in the transporter matrix, I don’t want the ambassador splattered over the transporter pad,’ Spock nodded, ‘and let’s prepare to examine and test this offering of peace, wouldn’t be right to deliver a bomb or eugenic device to a peace conference, generally considered outré I would think, if indeed outré is the word I’m looking for,’ Spock nodded again, ‘’and please forward the Arkellian Ambassador’s profile to the data banks in my quarters. If you need anything that is where I’ll be."
From time to time I can Captain, from a duties and responsibilities perspective, like the best of them, but I’d rather be in the middle of it, hero-ing the crap out of it.
As I headed to the door, an idea dawned, I punched the comm button to Engineering on my way out, ’Scotty, is the Ship’s Carpenter available for a project?’. Mr. Scott, our most capable Chief Engineer responded in his wonderful Scottish brogue, ‘He is indeed Captain, is there something I can help you with?’. You never want to offend a capable Chief Engineer, and Mr. Scott is the best of the best, and isn’t all please to bend to the captain’s whim usually, or a request to utilize one of his Engineering personnel. ’No, no, Mr. Scott, it’s a trifle for our mission, just send him up to my quarters,’ and I cut the comm and bustled out before Spock or Bones could launch a ‘what are you up to’ barrage.
At this point I have a word to the landlubbers, you may have noted that I used the term Ship’s Carpenter, let me enlighten. Back in the era of wooden hulled sailing vessels, said vessels would have, owing to the nature of their construction, a master woodworker aboard to assess, tend, and repair. When ships design changed from wood to metal hulls the job title persisted, and when ships plied the star rather than the oceans the job title again persisted. Sufficed to say these Johnnies are the type to look a nacelle about to come off its pylon and get it all back together with metal tape and baling wire and the liberal use of profanity. I had a special task for ours and knowing the type of crew Scotty drew around him it would be a small matter for the person to attend to.
I was into my third review of the files on the Arkellian Tendarakian conflict when the comm buzzed and Spock came on, ‘Captain, we are approaching Arkellia.’
"Be right up, prepare for a tuck-n-roll pickup Mr. Spock."
"Sir, a tuck and-"
"Line up on the beam up coordinates, flyby without orbital insertion, beam up the Ambassador and be on our way."
"Aye-aye, Captain."
I punched the comm button for Engineering, "Mr. Abernathy, is my project completed?"
"Aye sir, just as you specified and we will be delivering it to the Briefing Room momentarily."
"Excellent Mr. Abernathy, take the rest of the duty shift off after you deliver it," this was a ridiculous thing to suggest, if you give Engineering types time off while underway they just head straight for Engineering anyway, haunting around here or there, tinkering with things, it’s in their nature. Of course, shore leave comes around and they are up to their frontal lobes in vice of every description, I usually just tell Shore Patrol, just following the Engineering section.
Of course, I didn’t need to go up to the bridge, the crew would take care of it but you have to push buttons and nod and say, ‘Very good Mr. Chekov, lala-tre-la-la-lee.’
I had only just sat down when Sulu said, ‘One minute to partial orbit insertion, beam up commencing one minute after that.’
"Very good Mr. Sulu. Mr. Chekov please standby to beam our guest aboard."
"Aye, Captain, beam up to commence in one minute and fifty second."
"Very good Mr. Chekov. Proceed as planned. Mr. Spock, let us repair to the transporter room to greet our guest."
Spock and I were met at the door to the Transporter Room by Bones, we went in and took our places in front of the transporter pad as Mr. Kyle sang out the process.
"Transporter locked, signal five by five. Initiating beam up."
Now, if you have ever had to greet a foreign ambassador, especially of the non humanoid variety, which is a lot of them, a good thing is to clear the mind because appearances can sometimes cause the lowest of hominid reactions, that being revulsion or panic. I had seen plenty of pictures of Arkellians but never one up close. As the transporter beam shimmered and swirled the Ambassador into existence I became aware that I said, ‘Well, hello there,’ not beneath my breath but loud enough for Bones to look appalled and Spock to give me quick side eye look.
Rather than convey herself on all fours the Arkellian Ambassador stood on her hind legs, putting her height, at the top of her head a solid 10 centimeters above two meters, throw in her ears and she was fully another ten above that. She carried an elaborately engraved metal case in one hand. I took a step forward and she gracefully walked off the transporter pad and extended her paw.
"Madame Ambassador, I am-"
"James Tiberius Kirk, Captain of the USS Enterprise,’ she practically purred, ‘Your reputation precedes you Captain. I requested you for this mission myself."
I grinned and lower my myself in somewhat of a bow, turning my head. The Ambassador extended her paw and stroked my neck.
"You honor me Captain, very few know the importance and respect that bearing one’s neck to an Arkellian means."
I stood and noticed her tail swishing rhythmically back and forth. Oh, if I had failed to mention, Arkellians seldom wear garments and one could not fail to notice the four sets of, well, what’s the right terminology, breasts, yes, breasts, descending in order of size from top to whereabouts her navel would have been. Yeah, she and I were happening.
"Of course Madame Ambassador-"
"Please call me P’shav’ri."
"I wouldn’t hear of it, it does you no justice for me to mangle your name.’ We exchanged what one would call a lingering look. She and I were definitely happening. "May I present my First Officer, Mr. Spock…," and introductions were made. We proceeded out of the Transporter Room and I positioned myself so I could get a look at her haunches. Bones was giving me more of his Southern scandalized looks as Spock ran cover and had engaged the Ambassador in some prattling of the diplomatic nature. We proceeded to and very shortly entered the Briefing Room, my brainchild sitting at the head of the kidney shaped table. Both Bones and Spock raised eyebrows as I extended an elbow and led the Ambassador to her seat.
‘I have to say Captain, I’ve seldom been so honored on a mission, first your greeting, now this.’
The this she was referring to was the a very low round seat covered in thick looped rug with a six inch diameter pole at the back similarly covered. The Ambassador ran her chin against the pole several times, placed the metal case on the table and then mounted the seat on all fours, walking counterclockwise around twice and seated herself on her haunches and rested her paws on the table. As I rounded her to take my place at the table her tail brushed against the inside of my leg from ankle to groin, ever so lightly. So definitely going to happen.
Spock began by summating the conflict and outlining the mission, again she jumped in without prompting.
‘Of course, you are curious about the peace offering, so,’ She extended a claw on each paw and popped the twin clasps on the metal case and opened the case to present itself to us and said with a tone of quiet reverence, ‘Gentlemen, Vulcan, . . .the Light of Korvatha.’
Again, the guys in the blue shirts raised their eyebrows to a few kilometers north of their hairline.
‘Might I ask Madame Ambassador, how did this come into Arkellian possession?’
Bones of course added the appropriate precursor question, ‘My apologies, what is The Light of Korvatha.’
The Ambassador inclined her head toward Spock, and Spock held forth, "The Light of Korvatha is a sacred object of the Zendarakian religion. It was thought to have been destroyed in an earlier phase of the conflict."
‘I am not in possession of the details of its provenance but I can outline the most likely scenario. Of course, you know that The Light of Korvatha was one of the central causes of the conflict all those centuries ago, or more importantly the Zendarakian claim that the Arkellian monarchy wanted to possess it. This is ludicrous, but as the conflict went on it became a military objective to obtain it, so much so that the entire third century of the conflict saw nothing but our offensives to obtain it and Zendarakian offenses to safeguard it. Eventually the Zendarakians secretly moved it Valdar IV, where it remained for two more centuries.’
"When it became the object of your attention,’ Bones put forth. Bones is a great physician and amateur psychologist but he should remain like a stone on military and diplomatic matters.
"On the contrary Doctor, we had no knowledge of it, but at the time two centuries ago Emperor P’thac’Na launched a campaign into the Valdarian system, temporarily occupying Valdar IV before destroying the planet. P’thac’Na, viewed against most other Arkellian emperors, and against most Arkellians was wildly eccentric, tending toward what you humans would call, flamboyant. Dial forward to the most recent phase of the conflict, P’thac’Na’s tomb city suffered extensive damage."
Once again Bones bombed in with a doozy, "What is a . . .tomb city."
The Ambassador took this with feline aplomb, "When an Arkellian emperor ascends, his first act is to start building a city for the sole purpose of locating his tomb, specifically at the center. The longer the reign, the bigger the city, of course the city is never occupied but for caretakers who maintain it to habitable standards. P’thac’Na had a somewhat short reign so there was not much more than a tomb a few concentric rings of gardens and pavilions. An errant attack broke open the tomb, and there we found The Light of Korvatha. We were incredulous of course, and took great pains to verify that it was The Light, even the almost heretical step of reading the emperor’s sealed private papers. In there he detailed finding it amid a legion of slain Zendarakians who were attempting to spirit it away from Valdar. The Emperor spoke of it to no one and meant to use it as leverage, he destroyed Valdar IV to keep the Zendarakians guessing and enhance their private anguish. He died about half an orbital period after that. The Light had been sealed in this case and like all of the Emperor’s possessions placed in his tomb," she paused looked about the table.
"And rather than use it as leverage, you are going to present it as a peace offering? Quite a change," I let that hang there.
"Indeed Captain, and as you may know, the latest conflict has created something that has not happened since the first century of the conflict-‘
Before Bones could stick both of his Starfleet issued boots in his mouth, Spock saved the day, ‘An Empress sits on the throne.’
‘Very good Mr. Spock. Empress P’lath’Ki ascended the throne on the death of her two brothers. It is not that an empress is forbidden, but since we are a warrior race, if anything, few females of the royal blood have taken up sword and shield. In the same way that few who are not elder clergy take the mantle of Zendarakian pontiff. P’lath’Ki is a decorated Fleet Commander, it was natural she ascend. She wishes to break the cycle. At the start of this conflict we were well ahead of Vulcan, Romulan, Klingon, and certainly Terran civilizations in terms of technology. Look at us now, we are barely warp capable…’.
She let that trail off and I went to the next subject.
"Madame Ambassador, we do have one request-" again, she was right there.
"Of course, Captain, take The Light of Korvatha and examine it. There is a memory card in the case with our accumulated documentation and analysis. But I do have one request.’
"We will do our upmost to grant it."
"I do hope so Captain. I would like you to escort me to my quarters.’"
Bones almost groaned and Spock busied himself with the monitor display. I might now bring you up to warp because you might be wondering, if I am in a relationship with Spock, why am I going on about the . . . well, attributes of the Arkellian Ambassador and the prospect, no, the reality of some horizontal refreshment. Spock doesn’t encourage it, and he may make veiled snark about it, but he understands the logic of letting Jim Kirk have some pan-tastic, pun intended, fun. It evens ol’ Jim out and is probably the equivalent of an indulgent wife to her husband’s motorcycle or warp capable runabout hobby. I mean, having me around all the time would drive a Vulcan to drink, I mean, the Vulcan puts his meditation robe on and it’s all over, no meditation is possible, he’s that sexy.
A few hours after I, ahhh, escorted the Ambassador to her quarters, I’m in Medical, having Bones tend to some. . .ahhh, lacerations. As soon as I walked in Nurse Chapel made a simultaneously disgusted expression and noise and stormed out. She knows about me and Spock and when I get my Kirk on, she goes nearly apoplectic, a bit frightening.
Bones is high into his irate Mom routine when I cut him off, "Bones, stick to the stitching, and forget about diplomacy, I mean put it out of your mind completely, you have no gift there. None whatsoever. Please abandon."
"Of all the cockamamie ideas-"
"Bones!"
"Alright but you have to admit-"
"Bones!"
"Alright, alright, you’re all patched up, but by the rings of Beta Reticuli be careful."
"Thank you Bones, but one thing,’ I adjusted my tunic and leaned in, ‘have a word with Chapel, the petulant attitude is a bit much."
Bones grumbled and nodded as I swept out of Sick Bay, none the worse for wear, I stopped as I was about head to the turbo lift on my way to the bridge and instead turned to head to the science labs adjacent to Engineering to see how Spock was doing with his analysis. Why I did this instead of going to the bridge I can only explain as captain’s intuition. It can save your life, or get you absolutely up to your chin in a big steaming pile of fun.
As the doors slid open to the science lab that feeling, that distinct feeling, that the mission is actually sneaking up behind you with a lead pipe and is poised to lay it up behind your ear. Custom case was open, examination apparatuses focused on a point, a point that was empty, as the room was empty of people. I made a fist and punched the comm panel.
“Kirk to Spock, come in Mr. Spock.”
“Spock here, Captain.”
“Mr. Spock I am in Lab 4 and . . .”
“Yes, Captain, I am aware, the-“
I broke in, “Spock, we might want to have a code word, maybe the L. of H., so as not to well, get the more excitable elements riled up?”
“A wise precaution sir. I was running spectral scan when I determined that the scanner needed a boost along the N bands and left to obtain on one. When I returned the . . . object of significance was gone. As you were indisposed, I checked the ship’s sensors and eliminated the possibility of an intruder and then began a search and have instructed Mr. Scott to recalibrate to detect the object unique signature. Because recalibration would interfere with certain necessary sensors, Mr. Scott is fabricating modifications to a standard tricorder.”
“Spock, are you saying we’ll have to search the ship deck by deck.”
“That does appear the case.”
“We only have a few more hours until we get to orbit around Zendarakia, that will be cutting it close.”
“Indeed Captain, it will require acute timing.”
“Mr. Spock, would it be . . .possible, based on our understanding of the L. of H’s properties to create a simulacrum?”
“Certainly, but that would not deal with issue, only delay it.”
“Leave that to me, continue your search. Kirk out.”
I interrupted Scotty and found his best dilithium technician and took over one of the fabrication labs. Scotty screamed at the power requirements necessary to fabricate a faux L. of H., but he understood the needs. Technician Hughes and I had just entered the technical specs and started the fabrication when Uhura hailed me.
“Captain, the Arkellian Ambassador wishes to speak with you, eh, privately.”
“Patch her through, Lt.”
The Ambassador’s face filled the comm screen, “Hello Captain, I’m not bothering you am I?”
“No, no, of course not, what can I do for you?”
“Well it seems a shame given that we will be at Zendarakia soon that I should not have had a tour of the ship, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oh, right-ho, right you are? I will have Lt. Commander Pierce stop by-“
“No, no, Captain, I insist it be you. I will be waiting for you in my quarters.” With that she winked and cut the comm leaving me and a rather embarrassed Technician Hughes standing there.
“Carry on, report to me progress in 10% increments, and hail me immediately if any problems occurs,’ then I returned to comm panel, “Spock, any progress?”
“Yes sir, modified tricorders have been handed out to key personnel and they have begun a matrix sweep of the ship.”
“Time estimate?”
Pause, “Two standard hours after we reach orbit.”
“Understood, Kirk out.”
I could have just locked the ship down and ordered up load of modified tricorders but no, some things need subtlety. The simulacrum would be ready about the time we were to beam down so I would hope search would turn it up without arousing suspicion and then figure it out if it didn’t. I made my way to the Ambassador’s quarters and found that the Ambassador didn’t really want a tour other than a close inspection of the function of a Jefferies tube and an unoccupied lab at the bow of the ship that had a beautiful observation window. I’d clean up the mess later.
After dropping the Ambassador off at her quarters, I went to the bridge and monitored our approach to Zendarakia and gave instruction to Hughes that the simulacrum L. of H. be placed its case when complete and guarded until I got there.
Timing was such that I would have to beam down after the Ambassador and made the excuse that we were just finishing up tests, everything seemingly checking out that it was the real thing and we were all ready to go. I’d have to make the switch when we found the real one and had a few ideas on how to do that, regardless it would be close and probably require quite a bit of legerdemain and whole cargo bay of intrepidity.
Spock informed me that he and the Ambassador were beaming down to the Zendarakian rendezvous point and I said I would be right behind them. After checking the coordinates with Mr. Kyle, I suggested being beamed down in the area just adjacent to the open air forum of the rendezvous point, behind what appeared to be a stone obelisk.
After materializing I took in my surroundings and peered from behind the obelisk into the open air forum area. Gathered there were a half dozen official looking Zendarakians. . .and Mr. Spock and the Ambassador! The latter who was beginning to open a case that look identical to the case I carried. I’m sure you’ve encountered scenes like this in your life, when your mouth is agape and the patina of incomprehension sits upon the brow like a small mountain and you don’t know whether to duck under said mountain and wait it out or leap into action. I was taking a step forward, mountain or no, because that is my style and ever will be when the light of the Zendarakian double star hit the Light of Korvatha.
I won’t try to relate the details only to say the crystal shown in a magnificent light and sang, yes, sang a rather discordant song that did nothing for me but dropped all the Zendarakian into prostrate displays of devotion. I took a step back and asked Mr. Kyle to beam my case back up, assuming that somehow Spock had been presented the real L. of H. and took it down.
Spock retreated a few steps as the Ambassador placed the case on the ground and spoke rehearsed words to the Zendarakian delegation and then walked toward me and we observed the scene until the Ambassador bowed away and joined us.
“Well Mr. Spock, I’m sure you have an explanation.”
“Oh, Captain, this is my doing, let me explain’, said the Ambassador as we turned and we three walked a short distance away, ‘you see, I needed Mr. Spock’s assistance but only desired your acquaintance?”
“You needed Spock, not me?”
“I might explain now, Madame Ambassador. Captain, the Ambassador reached out to me because the Light of Horvatha was said to have an essence of the spirit of the Zendarakian founding pontif and as the Arkellians are not sensitive in this way, and Vulcan’s are, it would be useful to test it this way.”
The scales fell from my eyes, I saw all, or a bunch, “So no technical analysis was needed, only the Vulcan touch, I perfectly understand. But, what did you sense Mr. Spock.’
“Indeed, the spirit essence of great antiquity. I was able to commune in a loose way with it and peace, rather than conflict, is foremost in its desire, such as they are.”
“But why the-“
“Captain, if you would allow, your temperament recently was one that occurs when our missions take a more mundane path. It occurred to me, with the Ambassador’s assistance, that a mission choked with the rigors of command might lift your spirits, as your human cliché goes. Additionally, I need, shall we say, undistracted focus to achieve the link.”
The Ambassador gave both of us a look at the last remark but I went on, “But Spock, I was in contact with you throughout. How did you-“
“Having laid out our plan I simply anticipated your reaction and recorded a variety of responses and instructed Uhura to monitor all transmissions.”
I laughed, “Well, how many other crew were aware of the charade.”
“It was broadcast live throughout the ship.”
There was nothing to do but embrace the love of the crew, who else would do something like this to lift their captain’s spirit, “You rascals! I love you all!”
“I do apologize for the subterfuge Captain, though I have always wished to meet you. May we have a moment,” said the Ambassador with a gesture and linked arms with me as we strolled. She was silent for a while, ‘I don’t wish to be indelicate but I need to ask. What is your relationship with your First Officer’.
“Everything!” I blurted, caught her reaction, which was the slight barring of teeth and declining of ears, and I added, “It is everything. It would be a lie to say otherwise.”
Nodding she relaxed her facial features and smiled, “I ask because Arkellians take mates of other species and I thought my biggest obstacle would be your ship, but it seems I am wrong.” She steered us back to the Zendarakian delegation which was now standing and reforming order, she turned and said, “We will be occupied with the duties of diplomacy for quite some time but would you have dinner with me in a few days. I feel we still have matters to discuss.”
“I look forward to it,” and kissed her outstretched paw. She purred, winked, and turned away to attend to diplomacy.
I caught Spock’s raised eyebrow and veil of chilliness settled between us. As I have said, Spock is this way, and he’s not beneath being vexed, and displaying that ever so vapor thin Vulcan vexation.
“Spock, inform Starfleet we have successfully dropped of the Ambassador and to dispatch the waiting Diplomatic Corp contingent immediately.”
“Very well, Captain.”
“And Mr. Spock,”
“Yes Captain.”
“Put the crew in for Service Commendations, but get Bones down here and wait until after we meet the Zendarakian delegation, I’m thinking we are going to be up to our eyes in diplomatic shenanigans until the Diplomatic Corp coves get here.”
“Aye aye Captain,” and there was frostiness again. Well, there was no getting around the Vulcan vapors of jealousy.
It was nearly a week before we left orbit and proceeded to Starbase 7 on rather urgent order, though not an idle week at that, the rigors of maintaining a diplomatic mien are not to be unstated. Spock and I were in my quarters, I was pouring over specs for the planned Constellation Class refit and Spock was monitoring the night duty crew on the bridge, as the newly minted Lt. Commander who was standing the watch had begun to show signs of being a petty tyrant, as does happen among aspiring junior officers from time to time.
“Spock.”
“Yes, Captain?” Spock said without looking up, he was still a little bit chilly over the attention I had given the Arkellian ambassador and she to me. I knew the perfect rapprochement, if that is the French word that I’m looking for.
“Spock, I’m abandoning my recommendation to Star Fleet to adopt a sash, delete it from the files.”
“Thank you, sir. I took the liberty of deleting it sometime ago knowing upon reflection you would see it in a different light.”
“You’ll be happy to know I’ve stowed the prototype in the back of my bottom drawer.”
“Would you like me to feed it into the disintegration chamber for you?”
“No, your birthday is coming up, it can be a little present you know about.”
Spock nodded and I knew he was too touched to answer, “And one more thing, modifications to my captain’s chair. Scrap those, delete the files, have the mechanics stand down.”
“Thank you sir, a judicious move,” he said, again I could sense he was moved by the selflessness of the gesture.
“But I do have a recommendation based on these specs that I think you will find has merit.”
“And what would that be, sir?”
“My recommendation is that during our refit the crewman’s lounge be moved to a deck with outer hull observation windows, some of the forward labs have no need of an observation window and can easily be moved more to the core of the saucer section. The crew should be able to have a view of the medium we work in, take inspiration, contemplate the voyage and their noble part in it. What do you think?”
“I think that is a wonderful idea, Jim.” He called me Jim. Rapprochement achieved, though I did not mention the feline inspiration for this.
I was about to ask Spock to put together a skeleton of a proposal when the door chimed and Bones walked through holding a bottle and looking as if he had expected something else entirely. Nosy old mom that he is.
“What the hell are you two doing, starting a book club?”
“At ease Bones, what have you brought us?” I said as I rose and gathered three glasses from the cabinet.
“Oh, this stuff. It’s Arkellian, they call it The Mists of Vaarin’Ka.”
“And did you get it from the Tabby looking one or the Savannah looking one?”
“Well, uhhh, I-”
“Bones you hypocrite! You were using your Southern charms on that striped grey Arkellian from their medical division.”
“Well, I was exercising my academic curiosity, they must be experts in bite and gouge wounds and she was-“
“We don’t need the details Bones, just pour, we need a toast to this mission.”
He did and we raised our glasses, “To the best crew and friends a captain could have.” We drank, I have to say that I reacted the most, a rasping coughing fit ensured but I maintained a standing position. Bones made a face like someone was operating on him without anesthesia and shed some tears. And Spock, well, Spock held his glass up and regarded it.
“This is quite delightful, owing to the differences between humans and Vulcans I assume your reaction to this liquid is from the rather trenchant effects on the olfactory bulb and canal.”
Bones and I could say very little for a bit and while Spock finished his and ours off, Bones and I switched to Saurian brandy.
“Well Jim, where are we off to next?”
“You’re going to love this one Bones. We are on our way to Starbase 7 to pick up medical supplies and additional medical staff, then off to Altanof IV to render medical assistance to the colony there, a black hole passing perpendicular to the plane of the system caused significant tectonic upheavals. You’re in charge of the extra staff and you’ll need to activate your auxiliary medical staff and probably recruit anyone else with even a passing interest.”
Bones clapped his hands together, “I’ll need to stage out of the cargo bay-“
Spock came in with the assist, “The cargo bay is being reconfigured to the mission and we will be picking up two Mark IV Mobile Hospitals. Lt. Commander Cheng and Crew Chief T’kpan have been informed to be at your disposal to make any in transit changes.”
Bones and Spock don’t always fight, they are professionals of the highest caliber, and for the next half hour worked out the mission plan. I let them do most of the planning.
These are the missions . . .
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