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First, Best Destiny - Part One

Summary:

James Tiberius Kirk - friend, brother, lover - has one great and glorious ambition: to captain a starship. It is the defining passion of his life for which he has sacrificed every relationship he once held dear.

S'chn T'gai Spock left his life behind on Vulcan to join Starfleet, against the wishes of his family. Ostracised by his people, he has forged his path amongst alien strangers, unfamiliar with and resentful of his cool, logical ways.

When the USS Enterprise loses her Captain, they are thrown together as Starfleet's newest command team. These very different men begin a relationship that will define their lives, shape their destinies, and reveal the lengths that each will go to for friendship. And for love.

A novel-length retelling of original Star Trek canon through the lens of one of the greatest relationships ever committed to film. Using missing scenes, episode tags, and original story-telling. Ultimately a Generations fix-it.

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

Chapter Text

Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice
And could of men distinguish, her election
Hath sealed thee for herself, for thou hast been—
As one in suffering all that suffers nothing—
A man that Fortune’s buffets and rewards
Hast ta’en with equal thanks. And blessed are those
Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled,
That they are not a pipe for Fortune’s finger
To sound what stop she please. Give me that man
That is not passion’s slave, and I will wear him
In my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee.

- Hamlet to Horatio, Act 3, Scene 2

Rateg City, Romulus , Stardate: 48582.3 (Terran Calendar: 1st June,  2371)

Spock of Vulcan entered his small rooms behind one of the unremarkable thoroughfares in one of Rateg's poorer sectors, and closed the door on the biting night air. There would still be a draft. The careful selection of these rooms, with their innocuous, obscure location, disinterested locals, and bland utilitarian appearance, was entirely practical. The heavy metal door and cramped escape tunnel were hold overs from the civil wars that had ravaged Romulus in years gone by, and were now of potential usefulness for someone the authorities regarded as a dangerous Vulcan rabble rouser, should the need arise. Unfortunately, they were, by definition, old and porous, at least to the chilled Romulan air, so despite appreciating their practicality, their sole occupant was subject to a constant low-level draft, which kept the temperature well below comfortable.  

However, they were still a relief from the knife edge of the winds outside, and Spock breathed an unconscious sigh of relief as the slight metallic clang of the lock engaging sounded through the small space. Crossing the room, he sank onto the small bed. His feet hurt, his back ached, and he was tired. Only his mastery of his own physical responses was stopping him trembling with exhaustion and cold. He had spent all of this day and the two previous on a tour of another local province, meeting other underground dissidents and advocates of peace between their worlds. They had been young, and enthusiastic, and eager to hear from him. Two years, even a year ago, this would have given him encouragement, reminding him of the importance of his mission. But now, their youthful passion and exuberance had just made him tired.  

He had noticed with mild concern his own reactions to those around him over the past few months. He had always practised detachment from his cause, and the outcomes he sought. Such was the way of peace, and logic. But lately it had felt...different. He was no longer just detached. He simply - no longer cared. He reminded himself, repeatedly, of the importance of this mission, and indeed, still believed in it. It might take generations – he certainly would not live to see it – but the unification of the Romulan and Vulcan peoples, the recognition and celebration of their shared heritage, could only bring untold benefits to both. But more and more lately he was convinced that the work was no longer his to do. That the fight, already taken up by so many across Romulus, should be led by someone else. The admission should have been painful, for it meant turning his back on the final great undertaking of his life. He would be left with nothing.  

But it was time. For more than thirty years he had been alone, and had found solace in that state. But lately, honesty forced him to admit that he was no longer simply alone. He was lonely . And tired. Not just physically, but with a pervasive mental depth that ate into his meditation, and haunted his sleep with distressing dreams that vanished from memory as he woke. What dreams he had, and they were rare, were usually peaceful and straightforward. Only in times of stress in his life had he been subject to bad dreams. Such seemed to be the case now, but he was at a loss to explain their source. There was no unusual stress in his life: aside from the normal tension of being constantly in hiding, all was as it had been for the three years gone by.  

And yet he still dreamed. Odd, disturbing fragments were all that remained when he woke. He sometimes seemed to be engaged in combat, or fighting an enemy. He was always warm, and younger than his current age. But it did not matter. He required sleep, and would therefore surrender to what dreams might come.  

An hour later, he sat up quickly, gasping and distressed. He regulated his pulse and breathing as the dream faded. This time, with confusion, he remembered it. He had dreamed of his first pon farr, over a century ago. Why had that memory come back to him now? He had not thought of it, of the realisation it had brought him, in more than half a century. That time of his life had been walled from his conscious awareness after it ended, 79 years earlier. He must meditate and discover the source of this unwanted unconscious remembrance before it led him down paths he did not wish to tread, and brought up memories he no longer wished to recall. There was a certain irony in the knowledge that the memories he had fought so hard to regain after the fal-tor-pan were now the ones he would gladly have lost forever.  

Don’t you think you’d better check with me first?   

That achingly familiar voice echoed in his head like the speaker was in the room with him.  

Spock closed his eyes tightly. He must regulate his mind’s wanderings. He did not wish to remember. That time was so long over, the speaker so long gone, that there was no longer any need to revisit those memories. No more grieving to be done. No more healing to attempt. Those times, that man, were gone beyond any desire to remember, and there was no logic in recalling them now. He breathed in, centred himself, took every tiny scrap of memory and emotion that had been trying to escape from behind that decades-old barricade, and walled them away until he was sure his mental and emotional equilibrium were entirely restored.  

When he opened his eyes, James Kirk was looking back at him.  

He was the Jim that Spock had first met on the old Enterprise, over a century before. In the dim and enervating darkness of Spock’s room, he glowed with youth and strength. His gold command tunic seemed to absorb and reflect the light, magnifying it and making Kirk himself it’s source. He was every inch the radiant memory that Spock had tried so hard to forget. An old, human quote drifted through Spock’s mind.  Age cannot wither, nor custom stale –  he was dreaming, that much was clear. And he needed to wake. He closed his eyes again, breathing quickly.  

When he opened them again, almost as if he had read the thoughts from Spock’s mind, Jim was smiling at him. Despite the voice in his head that told him to resist this insidious manifestation of his subconscious, Spock found himself mesmerised. There had been too many empty, soulless years since he had seen Jim’s smile. A fierce rebellion fought its way to control of his consciousness. He didn’t care if this was a dream. He wanted more of it. Wanted to hear this apparition speak, and laugh, the way Jim had always done so easily. Before logical thought could intervene, he reached  out. He ghosted trembling fingertips above its cheek and Jim’s smile became, impossibly, even softer and more radiant. He spoke, and the voice was everything Spock remembered and more. He had heard every manifestation of this voice and none more welcome than now. 

‘Hey, handsome.’ 

USS Enterprise, Stardate 0002.6 (Terran Calendar: 25th April 2265)

Lieutenant Commander Spock walked from the computer station in his quarters to the small cabinet near his bed, retrieved the pin he had been seeking, and returned to his desk. Then he stood again, moving to the small mirror against the far wall, attached the pin with fingers that were admirably steady, and moved back to his desk. After a moment he stood again, and returned to the mirror, regarding the pin with concern. Perhaps it was a little too obvious. He didn’t want his new commander to think he was in the habit of making overt political statements in the line of duty. Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.  I expect to be treated with the same respect and acceptance as any other member of the crew.  Did it imply that he thought his new Captain might not do so? There was certainly nothing in the man’s service record to suggest any kind of anti-alien bias. But Spock had been in Starfleet long enough to know that even within the ranks of those whose lives were dedicated to exploration of the galaxy, a certain pro human sentiment could still exist, however subtle, or in some cases, overt.  

The pin should stay, then.  

Unless. Did it imply any – anxiety on his part?  Please, please accept me. Please be my Captain , as well as theirs.    

After a moment, he removed the pin, and placed it carefully back on the desk.  

On his monitor, the last message he had received from his mother still glowed in his dimly lit quarters. As he returned his eyes to the screen, a section jumped out at him.  

I'm sure you will miss Captain Pike. He was a good man, and I know you admired him. And it’s natural to be anxious about a new commanding officer, but Spock, do give him a chance. Who knows, you may even find a friend, as well as new Captain.   

Spock had raised an eyebrow the first time he read this, almost able to hear his mother’s encouraging voice. Her concern, however much he steered the conversation towards his career and achievements, always came back to friends, happiness and sentiment eventually. She was, in that way, very human. But he had not actually expressed any anxiety around the arrival of his new Captain. It would be illogical to do so.  

Even so, her sentiment in this case was misplaced to the point of incredulity. He had been exceptionally lucky in his first commander, and was unlikely to be so lucky a second time. Whilst still at the Academy, he had been assigned to the Enterprise under Captain Pike, and the Captain had become not just a commanding officer, but a source of support, a mentor, and even in later years, Spock hoped, a friend. Which made the ending of their professional relationship even harder to bear. He took a breath, straightened in his chair and pushed the events surrounding the departure of Christopher Pike to the back of his mind. He could not dwell on what might have been. Could not afford to dwell on his own – failings in the matter. 

His mother was, in that respect at least, correct. Nothing to do with his Enterprise’s last commander was the fault or responsibility of her new Captain, and it would be highly illogical to resent the newcomer. Or to fear that the approachable, supportive relationship he had had with Pike would not be mirrored with his new Captain. Any concern in that line would be quite unVulcan, and Spock was glad he had his mental disciplines firmly in place to prevent such unwanted thoughts and emotions occurring.  

He reached across to the monitor to close his mother’s message.  

It would also be illogical to wish that, occasionally, he could see her smile, or hear her voice. He had not done so in four years. They communicated by brief messages, carefully rendered bursts of texts over subspace, between the Enterprise and Vulcan, or when his father’s schedule dictated, Earth. Such messages were small, and easily transmitted with any other communication burst the Enterprise would be sending that day. If his mother was on Earth, the message would be received within a day or two, and a reply would take a similar time. If she was on Vulcan, the timescale was longer, as the message would be relayed via Earth, and relied on the frequency of communication between Earth and Vulcan. To speak to her directly would require booking time with the Enterprise’s communications team, then communication between the team and Ambassador Sarek’s home on Vulcan, or office on Earth.  

Which could never happen.  

His father had decreed that all communication between Spock and his parents cease on the day that Spock had left home for Starfleet Academy, and he had not wavered from that view. His mother, as a dutiful Vulcan bondmate, had to all outward appearances agreed with her spouse. In reality, there had been a message from his mother waiting for him when he arrived at the Academy, and he had never been out of written contact with her for more than a few months at a time, unless the Enterprise was out of communication range entirely. By mutual, unspoken consent, they did not speak of Sarek. Spock had no idea if his father was even aware of his mother’s ongoing contact with their son. But in case he did not know, Spock made no attempt to contact his mother in any way that might draw the attention of his father. He had no wish to sever the last familial contact remaining to him by any rash action of his own.  

As his mother’s message vanished from the screen, the previous document he had been reading and set aside for his mother’s communique, took its place. For the seventh time, Spock ran his eyes over the official service record for his new Captain. For the seventh time, he was impressed by the repeated commendations, and concerned by the element of impetuosity that ran, obvious but officially unremarked, through the record. The document showed a man highly competent, driven, intelligent, and possessed of a remarkable instinct for leadership and command. The youngest Captain in the history of the fleet. It was, by any measure, an impressive record. He was also, to Spock’s eyes, young, impulsive, given to following his instincts ahead of logic, forthright, and ambitious. The opposite of Christopher Pike in almost every way. And therefore, not someone to whom Spock should look for the kind of relationship he had shared with Pike. Which was, of course, fine. Indeed, as things should be. Spock no longer required any kind of mentor, or father figure, or even friend.  

Almost reluctantly Spock’s eyes settled on the picture at the top of the record. The subject looked slightly impatient, as if he had better things to be doing than posing for an official photograph. Clear, intelligent, and perceptive brown eyes stared out of a face that was barely holding the mandatory neutral expression in place. Even the picture seemed possessed of a remarkable energy. Next to the picture, the name and rank of the subject in large, unmissable letters:  

James Tiberius Kirk. Captain.  

Spock reached across, snapped off the screen, and stood. Any speculation was illogical and irrelevant. He would, in all likelihood, have very little interaction with the new Captain outside of their necessary professional roles. Which was entirely logical, and correct, and exactly, he told himself, as he would prefer. 

As alpha shift began, Spock was on his way to the transporter room when a voice hailed him.  

‘Spock! Wait up.’ As Spock paused, the Enterprise’s helmsman, Lieutenant Commander Mitchell, fell into step beside him.  

‘Coming to meet the new Captain?’ Mitchell grinned at him as they walked along the corridor.  

Mitchell seemed more cheerful than usual, and Spock did not have to speculate as to the cause. The new Captain, as Mitchell was more than happy to remind anyone, was a friend of long standing. Kirk and Mitchell had attended the Academy together, and after an unsettling period when the identity of the ship’s new Captain had been in doubt, and some - in Mitchell’s eyes – worrying names had been bandied about, no-one had been more ostensibly delighted than Gary when she was given to his old friend.  

Mitchell's field promotion to first officer had been confirmed immediately, and the new Captain had let it be known that he was impressed with the performance of the Enterprise’s crew under Pike, and those crewman who wished to stay were invited to do so, an offer that Spock had felt was highly sensible, to maintain crew performance and cohesion. The acceptance rate for this offer was high amongst the younger crewmen, but the prospect of serving under the youngest Captain in the fleet had clearly raised a few doubts amongst those with longer service records. Their CMO was retiring within a few months, as was their Head of Communications. Their Chief Engineer had already left. Lieutenant Commander Scott was under consideration for a field promotion to that role, a development that Spock himself had encouraged to Commander Mitchell.  

Engineer Scott was one of the more eccentric humans that Spock had encountered, even aside from the fact that his accent rendered him occasionally unintelligible to Vulcan ears. It had taken a few months of meetings before Spock was properly attuned to what he understood was an Earth regional brogue. Once that initial hurdle had been cleared, however, it had become apparent that Engineer Scott was one of the most knowledgeable and fiercely practical crewmen on the ship.  

Spock thought it the highest compliment he could pay the Engineer that he considered him almost Vulcan in his work ethic and dedication. He also, unlike most humans, treated Spock exactly like everyone else: to wit, less important than his precious engines. His obsession with the engines of the Enterprise surpassed anyone else in his department, and Spock was quietly convinced that any new Captain worth their rank should recognise his dedication and endorse the promotion.  

His own recommendations for vacancies in his department had been forwarded to Captain Kirk along with those of the other department heads, and he had been mildly surprised to receive a terse return communique less than a day later approving them all. He had not noted this as exceptional, but at the next meeting of the Enterprise’s department heads it had become clear that his was the only department where all of his proposed replacements had been endorsed by Kirk. Mild grumbling from his fellow department heads had taken up at least a third of the meeting. They had bemoaned the trouble of having to go ‘back to the drawing board’ in their search for staff, or objected to having their new Captain’s choices foisted upon them.  

Spock replied to Mitchell as they walked. ‘My presence was requested as Science Officer.’  

Mitchell patted him on the back and Spock suppressed the mild internal tension that gathered whenever he did so. He was aware that the human regarded it as a gesture of friendship, and he did not wish to offend by reminding Mitchell that as a Vulcan and a touch telepath, he did not generally encourage casual physical contact. Their relationship had not always been congenial, and Spock deemed the occasional unwelcome pat on the back or shoulder a small price to pay for keeping it on a more overtly friendly footing. It seemed far too difficult to explain to Mitchell that the similar liberties he had allowed Captain Pike had been earned over years of slowly developing mutual trust.  

Mitchell was talking. ‘Don’t you worry, Mister Spock, Jim’s a science nerd too, he won’t give you any trouble. You just keep doing what you’re doing, and he’ll leave well enough alone.’ This was accompanied by a friendly smile that Mitchell clearly intended to be reassuring. Spock wondered briefly why everyone seemed to assume he was concerned about the arrival of their new Captain.  

The doors to the transporter room opened at their approach and Spock and Mitchell joined their CMO and acting Heads of Security and Communications in front of the pad. A yeoman waited patiently to pipe the new Captain aboard.  

Lieutenant Commander Scott was already at the transporter controls. He looked up at Mitchell’s entrance.  

‘Just waitin’ on the signal from the starbase, Commander.’  

‘Thank you, Mr Scott.’  

They fell into a natural parade rest as the seconds ticked by. Next to Mitchell, Doctor Mark Piper pulled irritably at the tunic of his dress uniform. ‘I’m sure this came back from stores a size smaller.’ 

Mitchell regarded him with amusement. ‘Nothing to do with the series of moving on parties you’ve been attending?’  

Piper side-eyed him loftily. ‘Of course not. I’m a doctor. I know how to regulate my drinking and eating to maximise health and wellbeing at all times.’ 

Mitchell grinned. ‘And I know how to wrestle a Denebian slime devil. Doesn’t mean I’m going to do it though.’  

Piper gave a long-suffering sigh, and muttered, ‘Cheeky young pup.’  

Spock experienced a measure of relief that their new Captain was not already present. He would never accustom himself to the human need to fill silences with what could only be described as unnecessary and occasionally unprofessional small talk.  

Another minute ticked by.  

‘Come on Jim,’ Mitchell muttered, ‘We haven’t got all day.’  

Spock frowned to himself. He hoped that Commander Mitchell would not refer to the Captain in that unprofessional manner with any frequency. James Kirk was the Captain, and should be referred to as such at all times. To do otherwise whilst under his command, even with the history that Mitchell enjoyed with his new Captain, was, to Spock’s mind, disrespectful both to the Captain’s rank and his person.  

Scott said, ‘Signal received, Commander.’ 

Mitchell straightened, and the tension in the room, which had died down, ratcheted up again.  

‘Beam him up, Mr Scott.’ 

The hum of the transporter began, and the familiar glow filled the transporter chamber. A figure began to coalesce within the beam, and as it solidified the golden glow softened but seemed not to disappear. Spock blinked rapidly, suddenly anxious that his eyes had malfunctioned in some way. The man before him still appeared to be at least partially formed of gold light, woven through his command tunic and bands of rank. Even his hair seemed to glow, giving him a halo of gold.  

An old memory surfaced unexpectedly in Spock’s mind. Himself as a boy, in his father’s study, looking through old books on the superstitions and beliefs of pre reform Vulcan. One of his childish favourites had been the pictures of the old Vulcan gods, particularly the god of the suns. It was that image that came to mind now as he looked up at his new Captain: an immortal and extraordinary warrior, haloed in gold. 

Spock wondered at the illogically fanciful turn his mind had taken as the yeoman piped the Captain aboard and Mitchell took a half step forward. ‘Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Captain Kirk.’  

James Kirk stepped out of the artificial light of the transporter pad, and the aura around him faded slightly as Spock’s eyes adjusted. His hair was slightly browner than the transporter light had made it appear, although his tunic still had the pristine appearance of something that had been worn new that morning, and there was a slight tension in his movement. For the first time, Spock wondered if the youngest Captain in the fleet had also experienced some anxiety this morning about his new command. The thought was strangely comforting.  

Mitchell continued, ‘Under Starfleet Regulation 103, in my authority as Acting Captain, and by order of the Admiralty, I hereby surrender command of the Enterprise to James T. Kirk, substantive Captain, effective immediately.’  

‘Thank you, Commander Mitchell. It’s a pleasure to be aboard.’ Kirk’s voice was firm. He had, Spock noted immediately, a surprising air of gravitas for someone whose record spoke of at least some level of youthful impetuosity. 

Mitchell’s formal air relaxed a little, and he smiled. ‘Good to have you, Captain.’ 

Kirk smiled back, and Spock had a brief glimpse of the personal charisma that had propelled James Kirk from Iowa farm boy to starship Captain by the age of thirty-two.  

Kirk looked across the line of people in front of him, and stepped across to the end of line furthest from Spock. He extended his hand to the Enterprise’s bulky security Chief and the stockier man shook it enthusiastically.  

‘Commander Darren, good to see you again.’  

The security man smiled. ‘Likewise, sir, it’s been a while since the Farragut.’ 

Kirk said, ‘You’ll be pleased to hear I’ve kept up with my training. You won’t find me so easy to pin these days.’ 

‘Happy to test that theory for you any time, Captain.’ Darren rumbled.  

Kirk laughed, an easy, natural sound, and the tension in the room, already lessened, began to relax into normal Starfleet formality. ‘I shall hold you to that, Commander.’  

He left the security chief grinning wolfishly and turned to the thin faced, taller man next to him. 

‘Lieutenant Commander Gralen, good to meet you. I was disappointed to learn you’ll be leaving us soon.’ 

The Enterprise’s Communications Chief said coolly, ‘I was offered a promotion to the Constellation and it seemed like an excellent opportunity.’ 

Kirk nodded. ‘It will be. Captain Marshall is a good officer.’  

‘And highly experienced.’  

Spock blinked. Gralen’s tone had been respectful, but after fourteen years amongst humans, not all of whom embraced IDIC as enthusiastically as their colleagues, he was learning to pick up on subtext. He saw Mitchell frown, and open his mouth, but Kirk said, in the same diplomatic tone, ‘Indeed. In fact, due to retire soon, I would think. Still, he’ll be a good man to learn from, and I wish you well, Lieutenant.’  

Gralen looked put out and said, somewhat reluctantly to Spock’s ears, ‘Thank you, sir.’ 

Kirk’s eyes had already slipped past him to the transporter console. ‘Commander Scott!’ The Scotsman looked somewhat discomfited at being hailed so enthusiastically by his new Captain, and he stepped awkwardly to one side of the transporter console. ‘It’s a pleasure to have you on board, Capt -’  

Kirk waved the greeting away, as he stepped forward to grasp the older man’s hand. ‘The pleasure’s mine, Lieutenant Commander. I’ve read all of your reports on the Enterprise’s engines. Excellent work, Mister Scott, excellent.’  

Under Spock’s fascinated gaze, the Enterprise’s most dedicated engineer flushed to the roots of his hair. Kirk continued, ‘I’d like to have a chat with you sometime about some improvements you’ve proposed. I was particularly interested in your ideas about the warp drive. I thought - ‘ 

Mitchell said, and Spock could hear the suppressed amusement in his voice.  'Captain, we were hoping to get the tour  at least  started before beta shift begins.’  

Kirk stopped with a visible effort, then added, ‘Well, another time, Mr Scott, but in the meantime, I hope you’ll be my acting Chief Engineer until we have a chance to properly discuss the engine room?’  

If possible, Scott went even redder, and stammered. ‘wha- er –  Aye. Aye, sir, it’d be my honour. I’ll take care of the bairns for you, you see if I don’t. I won’t let you down.’ 

Kirk blinked, then said, in a genuinely warm tone, ‘I know you won’t, Mr Scott.’   

Next to Scotty, Dr Piper cleared his throat. Kirk stepped across with a smile, and took the proffered hand. 

‘It's good to finally meet you, Doctor. Your reputation precedes you. Commander Mitchell tells me you run a tight sickbay.’ 

Piper said dryly, ‘Commander Mitchell would say anything to get out of his next physical.’  

Kirk tossed an amused side eye to his second in command. ‘Good to see you’ve got the measure of him. I was sorry to hear you’ll be retiring in a few months.’ 

Piper nodded. ‘Thank you, sir, but it’s time. I don’t think I’ve got another five years in me. That’s a younger man’s game.’  

Kirk said sincerely, ‘Well, the Enterprise’s loss is Starfleet medical’s gain.’ 

As this exchange continued Spock noticed an odd anxiety begin to settle in his stomach. He was aware of a desire to make a good impression. He was also aware that Kirk had shaken the hand of every man present. He wondered if his new Captain was aware that Vulcans did not, traditionally, do so. He should be, of course, but it was entirely possible that he had had little exposure to Vulcan culture during his career so far. 

Kirk’s conversation with Piper had drawn to a close and Spock was suddenly, intensely aware of being the sole focus of Kirk's attention as the Captain stopped in front of him.   

Kirk said, and his tone was a little subdued, ‘You must be Lieutenant Commander Spock.’  

From Kirk’s side, Mitchell muttered, ‘What gave him away?’  

Kirk ignored him, and as Spock was about to speak, he noticed his Captain's right hand was flexing oddly. He just had time to wonder if the Captain had some as yet unreported nervous tic, before Kirk had steadied his hand and raised it in the traditional Vulcan salute.  

Kirk said, with deliberate care, ‘Dif-tor heh smusma, Commander.’ 

The pronunciation was slightly hesitant, and the accent appalling, but Spock had not had his native language spoken to him in over a decade. The familiar, cherished syllables fell into his awareness like water after a drought. Next to Kirk, Mitchell frowned in surprise. Spock stared in frozen shock at the source of the sound as Kirk’s hopeful expression began to slide away.  

‘Commander? Did I say that wrong?’ 

Spock’s voice caught up with his heart, which appeared to be trying to obstruct his throat. He threw his hand up into the ta'al. ‘Peace and long life, Captain Kirk.’ 

If Kirk had noticed Spock’s awkward reaction, he gave no sign. Instead, he said, still in that slightly subdued tone, ‘I was intrigued with your last paper on warp fields and spatial distortion.’ 

Spock blinked. It had been a personal project outside of his duties and he had not been aware the paper was widely circulated. Aloud he said, ‘Indeed, Captain? It was merely a - proposal of my initial hypothesis.’ 

Kirk nodded, and some enthusiasm began to seep back into his tone. ‘Yes, but the implications would be significant. I’d love a chance to chat it through with you sometime.’ 

Mitchell cleared his throat and Kirk’s eyes met Spock’s in an expression of conspiratorial amusement. Spock had seen such expressions before, but only in front of him, not directed at him, and he was at a momentary loss for an appropriate response. In the face of his science officer’s unchanging expression, Kirk’s own fell slightly before he recovered and turned to Mitchell.  

‘Yes. Well. Thank you, Science Officer. Alright Commander Mitchell, let’s get this show on the road. Where are we starting?’ 

As Kirk and Mitchell passed into the corridor, already deep in conversation, the atmosphere in the transporter room relaxed.  

Piper said thoughtfully, ‘Well, I wish him luck. Not easy, taking over someone else’s command. Chris Pike left some big shoes to fill.’ 

Gralen added coolly, as they moved towards the door, ‘Especially given Kirk's age and inexperience.’  

Spock heard himself say, ‘Captain Kirk’s record would indicate a high degree of aptitude and competence for the task at hand, age and experience notwithstanding.’ 

Gralen said smoothly as he swept out, ‘Well, I guess you’ll find out in the next five years, won’t you, Mister Spock?’ 

As Piper and Gralen left, Commander Scott, apparently oblivious to the entire conversation and muttering to himself about impulse drive and engine neutrality, followed them out of the door. 

Spock watched him go, aware of an illogical sense of failure.  

He could not avoid the idea that Kirk had deliberately suppressed his natural ebullience when speaking to him. Presumably in order not to offend Spock's Vulcan sensibilities with unnecessary human emotionality. It was the kind of consideration that Spock would have been grateful for from Gary Mitchell. But from James Kirk it was oddly....disappointing. The man’s energy was part of him, and his attempt to suppress it speak to Spock had been somewhat disconcerting. And Spock's own responses had been clearly  lacking  -  

A voice at his side said cheerfully, ‘Well, he likes you.’ 

Spock turned to face the Enterprise’s security chief, whose presence had temporarily slipped his mind. He said, ‘I beg your pardon, Commander?’ 

Darren nodded at the door. ‘Kirk. You’ve obviously impressed him.’ 

Spock stared at the shorter man. He was accustomed to the human tendency to make illogical leaps to irrational conclusions, but given that the last five minutes had been some of the least impressive of his entire tenure on the Enterprise, he was at an utter loss to explain this one.  

On his expression, Darren smiled. ‘Capt’n Kirk expects people to adapt to his style of command, not the other way ‘round. Made a proper effort with you, though. Obviously keen to have you on side. Understandably.’ His Teutonic accent was more pronounced with extended speech.  

Spock said, uncertainly, ‘I am sure Captain Kirk is keen to develop positive working relationships with all his crew.’ 

Darren said easily, ‘Oh, no doubt. An’ he will, too. Whether they like him or not. Probably won’t bother to learn any of their languages though.’ He placed a firm pat on Spock's shoulder as he passed. ‘Nope, your new Captain’s a fan, Mister Spock. You can relax.’ 

As the door swished open, Spock ruthlessly suppressed the frisson of hope the security chief’s words had engendered, as well as his own disappointment in his lack of adequate response to his Captain.  

Ultimately, Kirk’s opinion was irrelevant. Spock would continue to perform his duties to the best of his ability, and that would either be acceptable to his new Captain, or it would not.  

The thought suddenly occurred that he had not heard where Commander Mitchell had proposed to start the new Captain’s tour of the ship. The notion that it might be the science labs sent him hurrying from the room.  

As it turned out, it was almost past the end of alpha shift before Kirk and Mitchell turned into the Enterprise’s main lab. Spock straightened from his console as they entered.  

Mitchell was saying, ‘Right, I’ll leave you here and handover to beta shift on the bridge.’ 

To Spock, he said, ‘You’re lucky we made it before Gamma shift. I thought I was  never  going to get him away from Scotty. I can’t believe there’s actually someone who can out-geek James Kirk when it comes to warp drives.’ 

Spock said coolly, ‘Mr Scott is to be commended for his dedication and thorough commitment to the engine room.’ 

Mitchell snorted, ‘I’ll say. You’ll never convince me he doesn’t sleep there sometimes. He’s nearly as dedicated as you, Mister Spock.’ 

Kirk, who had been looking between them, a carefully neutral expression on his face, said, ‘Don’t let me keep you, Mitchell. I’ll finish up with Commander Spock here then come and find you.’ 

Mitchell nodded. ‘Great. I’ll see you in an hour.’ He turned and left the room. Kirk smiled round at Spock's mostly young and silent staff, eliciting some hopeful smiles in return, before looking across at his science officer. He clapped his hands together and said, ‘Right, Mister Spock, what have you got for me?’ 

An hour later, and Spock was entirely certain that, even had he been thus inclined, he would never be able to lead his department in a mutiny against James Kirk. The Captain had talked individually to all of his staff; about their work, their personal projects, even their off-duty interests. He made insightful and instructive comments on their work, and Spock was forced to rapidly mentally revise some of the explainers he had prepared in case the new Captain had not had an aptitude for science.  

Kirk praised and encouraged, patted backs and smiled. Spock didn’t think his lab had ever had such an air of effortless bonhomie. Beta shift arrived and Alpha didn’t leave. Almost Spock’s entire staff were crammed into his lab, wreathed in smiles as Kirk relayed a humorous anecdote from his secondment to astrophysics as a second Lieutenant.  

On cue, the whole room broke into delighted laughter. Kirk smiled round at them all. ‘Right, alpha shift, off you go. Beta, I can’t keep you from your work any longer, or I’m sure Mister Spock will have my hide.’ 

Eyes, which Spock was sure had entirely forgotten his presence, slipped to their head of department, and smiles froze guiltily on faces as the department disbursed as instructed.  

Kirk walked over to the corner of the lab where Spock was standing. He leaned against the bench next to his science officer and said thoughtfully, looking back across the lab, ‘You’ve got a good team there, Mister Spock. I was impressed with your suggestions for promotions and replacements. I think they’ll be even better once the new cohort have settled in.’  

‘They will, Captain,’ Spock said with certainty. ‘Efficiency amongst those newly assigned to the science laboratories increases by at least seven percent after a week. Long term gains vary, but exposure to the discipline and practices in this department is proven to enhance overall productivity and performance in all crew who are assigned.’ 

Kirk blinked at him for a moment and then said, ‘I’ve no doubt of it, Mister Spock.’ 

Spock glanced at him, wondering for a moment if his Captain was laughing at him, but there was no sign of it in Kirk’s mild gaze. 

They stood for a moment in companionable silence, watching as Spock’s staff went about their work. Spock was beginning to wonder if he should indulge the human propensity for small talk, when Kirk said quietly, ‘I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier, did I? With my greeting?’ 

Spock said, matching Kirk’s tone, ‘It would be illogical for me to experience discomfort in that circumstance, Captain.’ 

Kirk gave a hum of scepticism. ‘Whilst I’m sure that’s true, Mister Spock, it wasn’t quite an answer to my question.’ He shot Spock a half smile. 

Spock blinked. It was an answer that had satisfied in similar circumstances in the past. Kirk was watching him with interest. Spock said carefully, ‘I was – taken by surprise. It is rare that my – different background is considered in such circumstances.’ 

Kirk nodded, as if the answer was not unexpected. They stood in silence for a moment, before Kirk squinted at him self-consciously. ‘I think my Vulcan accent might be terrible.’ 

For an almost infinitesimal amount of time, Spock contemplated the human tendency to obfuscate difficult truths and decided, as he had always done before, that such a course of action was both unnecessary and unhelpful.  

‘It is, sir.’  

Kirk’s face froze and Spock experienced a very unVulcan moment of anxiety that he had managed to offend his Captain on his first day, until Kirk’s face relaxed into an amused grin. ‘Well, maybe you can help me with that in future. In the meantime, if we run into any other Vulcans on this trip, I’ll let you do the talking.’ 

Spock said, ‘That would be wise, Captain.’ The feeling that his response was somehow inadequate came back to him. He found himself wanting to communicate some sense of gratitude for the effort Kirk had gone to, however illogical. He said hesitantly, ‘However, it was – pleasing – to hear my native language. I was - not ungrateful.’ 

Kirk looked at him in surprise, then said, ‘However terribly that language was spoken?’  

Spock blinked in consternation. ‘I- no, sir, that wasn’t what I intended -'  

Kirk face broke into a grin. ‘Relax Mister Spock, I’m teasing you. It’s a bad habit, but you seem to bring it out of me. Don’t worry. I shall try to refrain.’  

Spock felt as if the conversational ground beneath his feet was uncertain. The feeling, taken in conjunction with Kirk’s smile, was not entirely unpleasant.  

He said carefully, ‘You – need not do so on my account, Captain.’ 

Kirk looked at him in surprise. ‘Really? Well, be careful what you wish for, Mr Spock.’ 

Spock said, ‘I believe the relevant human aphorism states ‘what is sauce for the goose -' 

He was interrupted by Kirk’s delighted bark of laughter. Around the lab, heads turned to them. ‘Oh, I see. In that case I suppose I should be careful what I wish for.’  

Spock was momentarily discombobulated by the notion that James Kirk would have any wishes revolving round his science officer. Before he could gather himself, Kirk had turned towards him and was saying, ‘I never got to ask about your projects, Mister Spock. I’d be fascinated to know what you’re working on, and we need to talk about that warp drive spatial distortion paper. I’ve had some theories in that line myself, and I mentioned it to Chief Engineer Scott. We thought - ‘ 

Spock watched his Captain as he continued to relay his conversation with the Engineer. There was genuine enthusiasm and sincerity in every word. Even Captain Pike, for all his encouragement, had never taken such an obvious interest in Spock’s work, pronouncing it to be, with some amusement, mostly over his head.  

So it was with some reluctance that he said, ‘Captain, I believe you are already late for your rendezvous with Commander Mitchell.’ 

Kirk frowned. ‘Oh damn. Gary. I forgot.’ He pushed away from the bench. ‘I won’t take up any more of your time then. Thank you for the tour.’ 

Spock inclined his head. ‘No thanks are necessary for the performance of my duties, Captain.’ 

Kirk blinked. ‘No. Quite right, Mister Spock. Carry on.’ He made an odd, abortive movement with his right hand, as if he had been about to place a hand on Spock’s back, then thought better of it. Watching Kirk leave, Spock was illogically torn between approval of his Captain’s consideration, and an odd sense of disappointment.  

Kirk sat at his desk, listening to Gary, opposite him in the visitor’s chair, talk through duty rotas and shift patterns at the desk in the Captain’s quarters. Being already familiar with the Enterprise’s crew and Mitchell’s habitual assignments of same, he was only half listening. As the talk moved onto bridge rotas, conversations of the day came back to him. After a while he said, thoughtfully, ‘I think you might have sold him short, you know?’ 

Gary broke off his monologue. ‘Who?’ 

Kirk nodded to the padd in front of his friend. ‘Spock. He’s not as humourless as you led me to believe. And I don’t think me being overtly emotional in his presence is going to bother him. He seems pretty okay with it.’ 

Gary stared. ‘Are we talking about the same guy? Tall, pointy ears? Stone faced?’  

Kirk shot him a chastising look. ‘He’s not though, is he? He’s pretty expressive. Does that eyebrow thing when you surprise him. That deliberate not-smile thing when you make him laugh.’ 

Gary stared. ‘You made him laugh? We’re definitely talking about different people.’ 

Kirk said defensively, ‘Well obviously he didn’t laugh laugh, you know. But he did look - amused.’ 

‘Jim, I know you’re keen to get everyone on side, but I think you might be reading a bit too much into our Mister Spock.’ 

Kirk frowned, and flicked a hand at the bridge rota. ‘He’s only on the bridge in beta shift, isn’t he?’ 

‘Yeah. He’s more use in the lab during alpha. And honestly, he can be hard work, I’m telling you.’ 

‘I’d like him to work alpha for a few weeks. See how it goes.’ 

‘On the bridge?’ 

‘No, Gary, sweeping the shuttlebay. Yes, on the bridge.’ 

Mitchell laughed. ‘And there he is. Hi, Jim. You’ve been Captain Formality all day. Gets old.’ 

Kirk shifted uncomfortably. ‘Come on, we’ve talked about this. Things can’t be like they were. I’m the Captain now. I can’t play favourites; however close we’ve been.’ 

It was Mitchell’s turn to frown. ‘We’ve been? So you get promotion and suddenly we're not close?’ 

Kirk stared at him. ‘You know damn well that’s not what I meant. The Captain has to – ‘ 

Gary said bluntly. ‘I don’t actually. I don’t know that’s not what you meant.’ 

‘Gary, for God’s sake,’ Kirk snapped, ‘it’s my first day. First full bridge shift tomorrow. And you want to do this now?’ He stood. ‘No. Deal with it. And I’ll see you tomorrow.’ 

Gary stared at him, then rose and picked up his padd. ‘As you wish. Captain.’ 

Kirk watched coldly as his first officer walked from the room. As the door swished shut he sank into his chair, running a hand through his hair. ‘Brilliant, James T, just brilliant.’  

Spock lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling in mild consternation. It was unlike him to have difficulty sleeping. Usually his mind was sufficiently quieted after his evening meditation that sleep came with no effort. Tonight, however, he was restless, and snatches of the day's conversations came back to him at random.  

Live long and prosper,  spoken in a strange, but welcome voice.  

I’m teasing you, Mr Spock.   

Maybe I should be careful what I wish for.  

Spock sat up, and sighed. James Kirk was proving to be - confusing, in ways that he simply had not anticipated. But there was very little point in mentally rehashing the day more than once. His time should be used far more constructively.  

By 2am ship’s time, he was realigning a plasma conduit in a Jeffries tube adjacent to the lab, and had managed to put the Enterprise's confounding new Captain entirely from his mind. In the relative silence and uninterrupted stillness of ship’s night, work was proceeding quickly. The small sounds of his work were magnified and echoed by the quiet of the Jeffries tube.  

After a while, Spock’s acute hearing alerted him to a muffled thumping, some distance away, the sound travelling through the closed hatched to his left. He regarded the hatch curiously, before returning to his work. As time passed the thumping noise grew closer, calling itself more urgently to his attention. It was followed by a muttered curse, and a scrabbling at the hatch nearest to Spock. Moments later the hatch flew open, and tousled, somewhat sweat dampened brown curls appeared, followed by a newly familiar face, smudged with dirt, who stopped in surprise at the sight of Spock, calmly crosslegged in front of the access panel.  

Spock said, ‘Good evening, Captain Kirk.’  

Kirk blinked at him, then said, with what dignity he could muster, ‘Good evening, Mister Spock.’  

After a moment, he hauled himself through the hatch and sat against the bulkhead, the space not allowing for anything more than crouch at best, still breathing hard. ‘What are you doing here at this hour?’ 

‘I might ask you the same question, sir.’ 

Kirk grinned.  ‘Well, you might, but I asked first.’ 

Spock said, ‘These plasma conduits have been in need of realignment for some time. It is impossible to do whilst the lab is in use but given the hour, and the fact that there is currently no work in the lab that cannot be temporarily suspended, this seemed like the ideal opportunity.’  

‘At 0200 hours. Obviously.’ Kirk blew out a breath. ‘Your dedication is duly noted, Mister Spock.’ 

There was pause in which Spock merely stared at his commanding officer. When Kirk finally met his gaze, he raised an enquiring eyebrow.  

Kirk said reluctantly, ‘Okay. I am – if you will excuse the vulgarity – pissing in every corner.’ 

A second eyebrow flew up to join the first and Kirk laughed, a warm sound in the confined space.  

He continued, ‘Not literally, I hasten to add. I had a tutor at the academy on the command track. It was an expression of his.’ He dropped his voice and assumed a rough brogue that Spock didn’t recognise, ‘She’s your ship, lad. You got’ta know every inch of her. Piss in every corner.’ 

Kirk ran a hand across his face. ‘Rough as anything, and rarely polite company, but there was nothing he didn’t know about handling a starship. And he was right, of course. As Captain, you have to know your ship better than anyone. So here I am.’  

Some of his hair had fallen across his forehead and he pushed it back. ‘Although I’d be happy not to get up close and personal with Jeffries tube seven too often. That’s a damn tight squeeze. I thought these things were a standard size.’ 

Spock recovered himself. ‘I requested to be allowed to reduce the size of the Jeffries tube to allow for extra equipment in the lab. I was given permission to do so by Captain Pike.’ 

Kirk blew out a breath. ‘Well, you’re welcome to your extra space, Mister Spock, but if anything goes wrong in tube seven, I’m sending you in to fix it.’ 

'That is – fair, Captain.’  

Spock noticed that Kirk was not in uniform, having chosen casual shirt and trousers for his foray through the bowels of the Enterprise. Following his gaze, Kirk said, slightly self-consciously, ‘Trying to get through at least the first day without wrecking a uniform. Apparently, my reputation with stores precedes me.’ 

Leaning against the bulkhead as his breathing evened out, he nodded towards the open access panel in front of Spock. ‘Need a hand with that?’  

‘Thank you, Captain, but my work is almost complete.’ 

Kirk nodded. ‘Good.’  

Spock wondered if he would continue his tour through the Enterprise, but Kirk had leaned his head back against the bulkhead and closed his eyes. As he showed no inclination to move on, Spock returned to his task in silence.  

A few minutes went by, then Kirk said, ‘Our new CMO starts in a few weeks. I think you’ll like him.’ 

Spock said mildly, ‘My feelings on the matter are irrelevant, Captain.’ 

Kirk made a noise of disagreement, but said, ‘If you say so, Mr Spock. He’s got experience with Vulcans, you’ll be pleased to know. There’s not much he doesn’t have experience of, actually. Leonard McCoy. Finest CMO in the fleet. Don’t let the lil'ole country doctor act fool you.’ 

Spock said, ‘I am unfamiliar with the name.’ 

Kirk said, eyes still closed, ‘He’s been planetside for a while. Doesn’t actually like starship life all that much. Hates transporters, or he'd be here already. Took a hell of a lot to persuade him to come with us.’ 

Spock said, ‘If you will forgive me, Captain, he does not sound like the ideal candidate for the Chief Medical Officer of a frontline starship.’ 

Kirk grinned. ‘Do me a favour, Mister Spock. Remind me, and we'll have this conversation again in a few months. I think you’ve got to experience McCoy for yourself to understand.’ 

‘I shall do so, Captain.’ As a few more minutes went by, Spock made the final adjustments to the conduit. Flow had improved by the expected 5.7% percent. He began to reseal the access panel.  

Kirk said, idly, ‘Do you play chess at all, Mister Spock?’  

Spock sealed the panel and turned to face his Captain, who hadn’t moved from his position against the bulkhead. ‘Given your in-depth knowledge of not only the Enterprise, but her crew, I believe you will be familiar with my official record which lists my interests outside of my duties.’ 

Kirk cracked an eye in his direction. ‘Alright. You caught me. I knew the answer to that one.’  

He paused, then said, ‘I find it’s usually better to let people tell me that kind of thing. No-one – except you apparently- is totally comfortable with the notion that I might have their service record memorized. And it’s good to –‘ he gestured small circles with his hands, which were resting on his knees ‘– let people talk. Tell you about themselves. Shows an interest. People are always interesting, when you dig a little.’  

He added thoughtfully, ‘And you never know what you might need to know to lead them effectively unless you let them tell you.’  

Spock said with interest, ‘Surely all Starfleet officers should simply follow orders regardless of their personal idiosyncrasies?’ 

Kirk shot him a half smile. ‘Indeed. I'd damn well not have anyone on my ship who wouldn’t. But –‘ he sighed, then continued more quietly, eyes on the panel opposite, ‘ - if I’m going to look someone in the eye and ask them to die for this ship, I want them to know that I know them. That I’ll remember them.’ He looked across at Spock, ‘Yes, of course they’d follow orders anyway, but in that moment - it helps. Not much. But it does. We’re all prepared to lay down our lives for the service, but the Captain needs to give the service a face. One that mourns. Not then, but - after. In the end, I don’t think anyone really dies for a flag. You die for your people.’ 

Around them, the hum of the Enterprise’s engines, unheard background noise during ship’s day, sounded almost loud in the ensuing silence.  

After a while Spock said thoughtfully, ‘I have observed in my human crewmates that an attachment to something, be it a person, or an object, makes it harder for them to - part with that thing. As Captain, surely it would be easier to practice detachment?' 

Kirk gave a quiet huff of laughter. ‘Can’t. I know it works for some, but I’m - not wired that way. Might it be easier? Maybe.’ He leaned his head back against the bulkhead for a moment, then tilted it towards Spock with a small smile. ‘But I’m the Captain. It’s not meant to be easy.’ 

Spock said, before his conscious mind could intervene, ‘If there is any way I can assist you, Captain, either within the performance of my duties or without, know that I am ready to so.’ 

Kirk lifted his head and stared at him. Then he swallowed and said quietly, ‘I appreciate that, Mister Spock. Very much.’ 

Spock nodded. ‘Captain.’ 

Kirk said, ‘Jim.’ 

Spock looked at him curiously.  

‘When we're off duty. You could - call me Jim. If you like.’ 

Spock said slowly, ‘I do not believe that would be appropriate.’ 

Kirk took a breath. ‘Very well. Still, the offer stands. And now I think I’ve yet again taken up too much of your time. You are far too easy to talk to, Mister Spock. But we both need to get some sleep before shift tomorrow. First full day on the bridge.’ He shot Spock a smile of barely concealed, almost boyish excitement. Spock clamped down on a wholly unexpected desire to smile back.  

Kirk was already moving towards the ladder. As he began to descend, he looked back. ‘Don’t work too hard. Get some sleep before your shift.’ His head disappeared, then reappeared almost as quickly. ‘Oh, yes. So: you and me. Chess sometime?’ 

Spock inclined his head. 

Kirk smiled with genuine enthusiasm. ‘I look forward to it. Goodnight, Mister Spock.’ 

‘Goodnight, Captain.’ As Kirk’s head disappeared through the hatch, he added, ‘Sleep well,’ and then, quietly, almost testing the sound of it, ‘Jim.’