Title: Man-Sized
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Characters: Spock, McCoy
Summary: Halloween can be a scary time of year, depending on what your fears are. Cue Jim Kirk.
A/N: Happy Halloween, everyone!
Or read on AO3

Chaos. There was no other way to describe the scene.

Spock bent at the waist to retrieve an object that had drifted to the ground by his feet. He turned it over in his hand, studying it, and lifted an eyebrow. The green material, of course, could have come from a number of sources. He strongly suspected one of those in particular and tucked the evidence away inside the palm of a hand, proceeding onward.

“He just kept shooting it,” one ensign cried into a companion’s shoulder as Spock passed them by. “I thought he’d gone crazy.”

The officer offering her shoulder patted the ensign’s back sympathetically. She squinted up at Spock but made no comment, perhaps hoping that he would make no comment either.

Spock had several remarks to make but he was saving them for a time when their intended recipient would be less insensate. Vulcans were patient enough to wait.

Few of the crew had chosen to remain as bystanders. They were moving through the large space, turning chairs and tables upright, gathering scattered equipment, helping others to their feet.

Spock took a survey of the surroundings, barely missing a detail. He noted areas of damage that would require a renovation team. He saw that the holo-screen, sporting a hole through the middle, was in an irreparable state. In his head, he compiled a list of requisitions that would be crucial to making this place functional again. But none of these observations or plans provided the answer he sought.

He was not the only one searching. This was lull in the aftermath in which everyone walked cautiously and quietly, and like Spock tried to solve a mystery.

The lull was broken when a man came skidding in through the charred opening that was once the entrance to the recreational room. He paled as he came to a stop and said, “My god.”

Spock stilled and turned, hands at his back, to watch Dr. Leonard McCoy’s reaction play out.

Immediately, even as his gaze took in the damage, the doctor activated a medical tricorder and began running it over the stunned faces and limbs of the people in the room, moving through one group at a time. He asked them questions as he examined their various states of shock. Some nodded in response. Some mumbled. A few officers clutched at whatever hands were in the nearest vicinity.

Spock was not surprised that McCoy, after having satisfied himself that no one was in need of immediate medical attention, faced resolutely in his direction. The human’s quick, long strides brought them together in a matter of seconds.

“I can’t believe it,” Leonard said right away, his tone indicating his horrified disbelief. “Jim did this?”

“So it seems. How is his condition?”

“Considering the state of this place, a damn sight better than it could have been. He’s been sedated. Chapel is monitoring his vitals. I…” Leonard’s voice faltered for a moment. “I had to see it for myself.”

Spock understood that sentiment. It was with a similar disbelief that he had received the report of the attack occurring on a lower deck of the ship. He had wasted no time in turning the conn over to Mr. Scott and making his way here.

Leonard lowered his voice. “Do we have an idea of what caused this?”

Spock stepped aside, then, allowing the doctor to see what his body had been blocking from the doctor’s direct line of sight.

Leonard took a hesitant step forward but went no farther than Spock’s shoulder. Spock was grateful that he did not have to voice his recommendation that the human refrain from touching the nearly unidentifiable mass.

“What is that?” the doctor wanted to know.

“In speaking with some of the… calmer witnesses, I believe it is what remains of an unusually large replica of a Terran species of arachnid.”

“…A gigantic spider,” Leonard summarized.

Something fiercer than Leonard’s customary temper darkened his face, then, and he turned on Spock so suddenly that Spock could not school his features in time to hide his surprise.

Leonard demanded, “Was this someone’s idea of a joke?”

Spock saw no cause for McCoy’s anger. Nonetheless, he answered, “I do not believe so.”

Leonard looked past him, this time sizing up the other occupants of the room for a reason that did not stem from concern and deliberately raised his voice. “Who was responsible for the decorations?”

Every face stared back at the CMO as if captivated but everyone remained silent, likely, in Spock’s opinion, due to incomprehension, fear, or both.

“Dr. McCoy,” Spock said, seeing that his intervention was going to be necessary. “Might I suggest that we concern ourselves with this fact later?”

“No, you may not,” was the answer. McCoy looked coldly furious. “Maybe you don’t know this, Mr. Spock, but Jim is terrified of spiders. If you want an explanation for his behavior, then that’s it. Unless of course being afraid of spiders is too irrational for you to understand.”

“It is not,” Spock replied softly. He had the missing piece of information now, and he thanked the doctor for it.

Leonard looked startled to receive his gratitude.

Spock promised him, “This incident will undergo a thorough investigation.”

The human’s shoulders lowered slightly, and his tone became less antagonistic. “I guess it wasn’t intentional.”

“That is a possibility.”

“I mean,” Leonard went on to say, as though Spock had disagreed with him, “I doubt Jim’s phobia is common knowledge. While he may enjoy a good laugh at himself, some things are too… personal… to share.”

Ah.

Spock felt he had to assure the doctor that he was not inept at interpreting hidden meanings, even if he preferred speech that was forthright. He said, “I understand.”

Leonard held his eyes for several seconds before relenting and giving him a nod. Then the man blew out a breath, placed his hands on his hips, and looked about the ruined room. “I’ll give Jim this—at least he didn’t run and hide when he saw it.”

“A mechanism was installed in the ceiling which allowed the replica to drop down in such a manner as to scare those present. Apparently the Captain was wearing a weapon as part of his outfit and made use of it.”

Leonard pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “I warned him about that.”

Spock would not mind knowing those details, but he did not ask for clarification. He said instead, “If the danger had been real, the quick reaction would be commendable.”

“We’re missing a door,” Leonard pointed out dryly. “I think maybe there was a little ‘overboard’ in that definition of ‘commendable’, Spock.”

Spock blinked.

“Never mind,” said the doctor. “I’ve gotta get back to Sickbay. I don’t want Jim escaping before I have a chance to chew him out over carrying deadly firearms to a costume party.”

“I may join you for that conversation.”

“See that you do, Mr. Spock.”

The CMO tucked his medkit under his arm and strode for the door—that is, the partially melted gap in the wall through which their wild-eyed superior had been dragged by a security team after he had disposed of what he deemed to be a terrifying creature threatening him and his crew.

Spock made yet another mental note: he must review his schedule and make an appointment to speak with McCoy so that they might delineate any other oddities of their captain which needed to be handled with care in the future. After all, he had surmised that Leonard intended to stay the full course of the five-year mission. It would be beneficial to plan ahead where they could, including any contingencies. The number of potentially unpleasant situations that they could encounter in deep space was difficult to calculate. Spock could only assume there would be many.

He thought on that for a moment longer, considered the delicacy of the matter he wished to broach, and decided it might be more prudent to hold the meeting privately. He doubted Dr. McCoy would refuse an invitation to his quarters in their off-duty hours, given that one had never been issued before.

But would the doctor be willing to open up to him with confidential information? Perhaps if he made it clear that he offered a partnership in looking after their captain. A truce, one might think of it.

“Commander Spock!” a nearby lieutenant hailed him, disrupting his thoughts. “The clean-up crew is here.” The young man pointed at the tangled black mess that was the still-smoking decoration. “What do we do with that, sir?”

Spock eyed it with distaste.

“I do not care,” he replied, “but I recommend that no part of it remain on this ship.”

“Aye, sir! The airlock it is.”

The Vulcan did not, to the officer’s mild surprise, gainsay that assumption. He simply pivoted on his heel and left.

And out of the airlock the spider did go.

-Fini

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