0Title: Family Outlives the Season (1/3)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Word Count: ~18000
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jim Kirk catches wind of a secret operation but is frustratingly thwarted in finding out details of said operation. The crew has agreed that he can’t know, given that by unanimous vote Jim has become their ‘Adopt An Adult’ for the holidays. Amidst ship-side shenanigans, plans best laid but disastrously executed, and one extremely determined starship captain, friendships are strengthened and hearts are won.
A/N: Happy Holidays, everyone! I proudly present to you a story for the first year of McSpirk Holiday Fest, based on these prompts:
inuhimesblog suggested Jim trying to figure out his Christmas presents from his boyfriends;
ladybuggete suggested the boys bringing holiday cheer and gifts to the less fortunate;
fandomidjits suggested family-oriented celebrations on the Enterprise.
I took their wonderful ideas and spun it into a tale that I hope warms your McSpirk-loving hearts. Now, on to the story!
Read here or at AO3
Aboard the USS Enterprise, a man diverged from corridor traffic as he came abreast of the entrance to the main Briefing Room. Its door slid back to admit him, and the occupants inside, already seated at an oblong table, turned in anticipation. They visibly deflated when he stepped through.
“Not again,” one of them murmured.
Catching that remark, Montgomery Scott glanced up from a data padd in his hands. He blinked, and his face reddened. “I’m not that late, am I?”
One person raised an eyebrow and looked like he might have answered that if it weren’t for his neighbor not-so-subtly nudging one of his arms as a reminder to keep quiet.
“You’re fine,” called the woman across from Spock and McCoy. She patted an empty chair next to her.
The Chief of Engineering scanned the group as he sat down. “Where’s the Capt’n?”
With a shake of his head, Sulu abandoned his place at the table for a replicator station at the far end of the room.
“For god’s sake, somebody get Jim on the horn,” said McCoy. “This is ridiculous. We’re wasting time!”
“We could wait a few minutes more, Doctor,” countered Mr. Spock, though he had already pivoted to face the library computer console and asked the ship’s computer to locate their errant captain.
Jim Kirk came onscreen. “Kirk here.”
McCoy leaned over Spock’s arm in view of Kirk. “It’s only polite that the person who tells everybody to show up for a big, important meeting shows up himself.”
The person in question winced. “Is that time already? Guys, I apologize. I am not going to make it.”
“That’s what you said last time!”
Kirk raised his hands. “It’s out of my hands, Bones. A missive from Command caught me on the way out. I couldn’t ignore it.”
“Then why didn’t you reschedule?” the doctor demanded.
“The call should have taken an hour, tops. Look, I’m the one suffering here, listening to Admiral Long-winded. And I used to think his Academy lectures were boring!”
Spock’s eyebrows had drawn together upon hearing the casual insult of a superior officer. Sulu smirked from where he leaned against the wall. Chekov snickered.
Suddenly, Kirk looked to his left and paled. His hasty “Oh no, no, no, that was a joke, Admiral!” caused the others at the table to simply shake their heads.
McCoy settled back in his chair and crossed his arms with a harrumph. “Kid never thinks to check the mute button.”
Spock stated, “Captain, I have a copy of the preliminary agenda. Should we proceed without you?”
“Roger that, Mr. Spock. Brief me later.”
Spock closed the channel without ceremony and activated the viewing screen on the opposite wall.
As Kirk’s agenda came into focus, McCoy voiced another complaint. “You know, there’s a reason we report up the chain of command. This meeting is just going to lead to another meeting for some of us.”
“Your point is acknowledged, Dr. McCoy. Rest assured the Captain and I do attempt to minimize the impact of these discussions on your work schedule.”
McCoy cut his eyes at the Vulcan but oddly only smiled.
Sulu returned from the replicator with two mugs of coffee in hand. He placed one in front of McCoy. “This should help,” the man said, taking a seat.
“Thanks, Sulu.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Chekov tentatively raised a hand. “I have a question. Why am I required to be here?”
“You drew the short straw,” McCoy said at the same time Spock replied, “As you are already engaged in training under Mr. Scott, the Captain believes it would be beneficial for you to observe the protocols and duties delegated to the ship’s senior officers.”
The doctor snorted. “Like I said, the short straw. Welcome to the party nobody else wants to attend.”
Chekov looked between the pair, seeming unable to decide which answer frightened him less.
Uhura’s sigh was very delicate but nonetheless pointed. “Pavel, you stepped up as Acting Chief Engineer when we needed you. This is Kirk’s way of acknowledging it.”
“Oh,” replied the young man, his concern disappearing.
Sulu leaned back in his chair. “We should start.”
“Seconded,” called Scotty, once again preoccupied by his PADD. “I cannae be late for the test session of the new dilithium crystals.”
“Then you should be the first to report on the status of your department’s projects, Mr. Scott,” decided Spock.
An hour later, the session concluded with Spock folding his hands on the table and saying, “We have covered each item on the agenda and heard from your respective areas. Does anyone have anything else to add before this meeting is adjourned?”
Sulu spoke up. “I do. Kirk announced last week that shore leave is delayed. We won’t be planet-side for another two months.”
“Not my recommendation,” muttered McCoy.
Sulu nodded as if he knew that. “Since then, I’ve been approached by several crewmen requesting to know if any festivities are planned in lieu of shore leave.”
Uhura flicked a stylus back and forth between her fingers. “What kind of festivities?”
Sulu shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not sure, myself, but there are crew aboard who come from families that still practice the seasonal celebrations.”
“If you’re talking about Christmas,” Leonard said, “that tradition died out after World War III.”
“Not completely,” Scotty countered. “My family is one of those who still celebrates it. Maybe not the way it was done in the old days, but we do spend a few days together and exchange gifts.”
“What is Christmas?” the youngest officer at the table inquired, looking between Dr. McCoy and Mr. Scott.
McCoy raised his eyebrows. “Pavel, of all people I thought you would be the one to know about St. Nick.”
“Nick—You mean Nikola? But of course, I have seen his status in zhe old national museum. His garb was strange. Saints were invented in Russia, you know,” Pavel concluded wisely.
A smattering of laughter went around the table.
“Not quite,” McCoy said. “Does no one take the history course on Old World religions anymore?”
“Off-world religions are far more interesting,” Nyota said.
Spock remarked, “While I find this discussion somewhat fascinating, to Lt. Uhura’s point, there are individuals on this ship whose planets or colonies experience no turn of seasons, or who do not consider themselves religious, much less practice a Terran religion that was prominent some centuries ago. Any ship-funded social events or acknowledged holidays should be relevant to all crew members or the Federation.”
Sulu looked thoughtful. “What if we hosted an event that was relevant to everyone? At the same time, we could incorporate values that we all believe in.” He indicated Spock. “Individualism.”
“Family,” Scotty chimed in.
Pavel added eagerly, “Assisting those in need. It’s what we do.”
“Fun,” McCoy said with a tiny smile.
Spock turned to the doctor. “Fun?”
“It’s not a party if it’s not fun, Spock—and nothing’s better for the morale of the ones who miss their families right now than to spread good cheer.”
Scotty beamed. “I like this idea already!”
“Spock,” Uhura wanted to know, “what kind of event would be within regulation?”
“Technically any event is permissible if it is approved by the Captain.”
“So we get Kirk’s buy-in and we’re golden,” she concluded.
“Jim…” Leonard snapped his fingers and sat up. “That’s it! Let’s make this about the Captain.”
Uhura huffed. “A celebration of Kirk? How much larger do you want his ego to grow?”
“As I recall,” Spock added, “Starfleet has held several commemorations for Captain Kirk, all of which were quite elaborate.”
“I’m not talking about inflating Jim’s ego. Think of it as a show of appreciation. We’ll have activities to satisfy everyone but one main event to recognize our leadership. Meaning, if we stick Jim at the center of the festivities, no one can argue over the prize, while at the same time it proves a point that some of the Admirals have been trying to undermine for a while now. Kirk may be the youngest Starfleet captain in history, but there is honor in serving under his command. It’s about time we forced them to acknowledge that. This could be the perfect opportunity to do it.”
Scotty said, “I kinda see your point, Doctor, but how is this celebration going to remind me of Christmas?”
McCoy crossed his arms. “It’s a common tradition in many cultures—or has been—to give gifts to one’s superior to acknowledge hierarchy. Why don’t we each pick out a gift for Jim?”
Scotty gasped as if McCoy had said something blasphemous. “Captain My-Hair’s-Perfect-But-I’m-Always-Canceling-Staff-Meetings should not get all the presents!”
The doctor just chuckled. “Now we come to the dual side of this plan, Scotty. Jim has never seen a Christmas present, let alone received a gift that he didn’t earn in some way. They say charity starts at home. Isn’t that what Jim has always tried to do for us, make the Enterprise feel like our home? So who better to open our hearts to than him!”
“When you put it like…” murmured the engineer. “Not even one?”
“No,” McCoy confirmed.
“I’m good with this plan,” said Sulu.
“Same,” agreed Chekov.
Uhura stated, her tone serious, “As you all know, I find Kirk deeply annoying, but I do love him a little in a sisterly way. Count me in.”
Spock started to say something but just then McCoy looked sidelong at the Vulcan and remarked, “There’s one more thing. We can’t tell Jim what we’re planning to do.”
Spock froze. “He is the captain. We must.”
“The point is to catch Jim off-guard—like his surprise birthday dinner.”
“Recall the result of that dinner, Doctor.”
McCoy argued, “This will be different.”
Spock studied the man next to him for too long before he said, “I cannot approve the pursuit of such a course.” He powered off the main viewer and stood up. “Should you be willing to change your mind, I am amendable to resuming this discussion.”
No one said anything.
Spock inclined his head. “Dismissed.” He left.
“Oh well,” Scotty commented, “it was a good idea.”
McCoy drummed his fingers on the table. “It is good—too good to pass up.”
“But Mr. Spock is against it,” Chekov pointed out.
“I’ll deal with Spock. Y’all start thinking up specifics of what we can accomplish in the next two weeks, both to engage the crew and to prevent Jim finding out what we’re up to. We’ll regroup in a couple of days.”
The others silently nodded their agreement. The group went their separate ways.
Two days later, the First Officer gave his approval to proceed; thus Operation Adopt-a-Kirk, as Leonard sarcastically dubbed it, was officially underway.
The communication was spread furtively by word of mouth. Crewmen gathered to discuss their plans in secret corners or by coded texts. An undercurrent of excitement began to build, lightening the steps of their walk and adding jolliness to their greetings. The thought that each officer—whether yeoman, scientist, or commander—was part of this covert mission inspired a sense of pride and unity, and it made the crew more aware of the trust placed in them by their seniors. They wanted to do their best and would try, for it had been said that the celebrations would culminate in a main event which one man in particular would never forget.
Therefore it was imperative that Kirk didn’t know what was coming. While the smaller celebrations would be for everyone to enjoy, the main event would honor him.
Kirk’s crew intended to see that happen.
Jim Kirk rubbed at his temples as he rounded a corner, wanting nothing more than to enjoy the end of his shift with his favorite people. He realized when he entered his quarters that he would have to find one of them first.
It wouldn’t be an easy feat, Jim decided. Spock and McCoy had become rather elusive as of late. He didn’t want to believe it was intentional, but any effort he made to ask where or what they were up to was met with diversion. Jim knew too much about the importance of that tactic to easily dismiss it.
“Computer,” he called, “locate Mr. Spock.”
“Working. Located: B Deck, Section 2F.“
So, Spock was near his office, likely in one of the science labs. The Vulcan did prefer to work longer hours than most of the crew.
“Computer,” Jim called again, “locate Dr. McCoy.”
“Working. Working. Located: H Deck, Recreation Snack Bar.“
Jim frowned. That was neither where Bones was supposed to be nor a place he usually frequented. Jim had a moment’s debate, then left his quarters, heading for the nearest turbolift.
When he stepped foot on the rec deck, a familiar tingle began at the back of his neck. He ignored it until he couldn’t stand the red alert any longer and turned around in the middle of the corridor. At the last bend, a man was talking into a communicator. When he saw Kirk looking at him, he blinked, closed his comm unit mid-sentence and turned his back to study a mapping display embedded in the wall.
If it wasn’t one of his own crew, Jim would have labeled the man as an enemy scout. But that was crazy, and so Jim dismissed the thought. He entered the main room by the doors along the balcony. Bypassing one of the smaller rooms where he played his first game of chess with Spock, he crossed to the opposite side via the information display alcove. Out of nowhere a person jumped into his path, yelling, “Captain!”
Jim eyed the young man in a Security tunic, deciding the fellow was overly exuberant, not distraught. Jim offered him a small smile. “Something I can do for you, Ensign?”
“Uh…” The man cast his gaze nervously behind him then into the game pit and pointed a finger. “Shuffleboard!”
“Shuffleboard?” Jim repeated, not understanding.
“Do you—do you want to play with me?”
Jim adopted a strange look but answered politely, “I’m on duty. Another time.”
When Jim tried to move past the young man, he found his path blocked again.
This time the ensign latched onto the captain’s arms. His stammer became more frantic. “Not that way, sir! I mean, that is, I need you to… Oh golly woggles!”
Jim grew an inch. “Are you trying to stall me, Ensign?”
No more words came of the man’s mouth. It just hung open.
Jim did the exact opposite of what he’d been told to do: he twisted out of the grasp and took off at a run towards the portside. He nearly crashed into the person hurrying out of the snack bar. They grabbed a hold of each other.
“Jim!”
Jim tightened his grip on the person he had been trying to find. “Bones, what’s going on?”
Something flickered through McCoy’s eyes before the man replied, “Nothing.” He pulled back far enough that Jim was forced to let go of him. “You shouldn’t run like that, Captain. You could have caused an accident.”
Jim glanced behind him. “I thought—” The area by the alcove was empty. Walking towards the railing, he looked down at the lower deck. Most of the gaming tables were empty too. So was the shuffleboard. “Where did he go?” Jim murmured.
A hand landed on his shoulder.
Jim turned, his attention drawn back to McCoy. “Why are you here, Bones?”
The man gave a half-shrug. “For a drink, why else?” Then he shook his head slightly and steered Jim to the end of the balcony. “I know why you’re here, though,” Leonard said as they went down a short set of steps.
Jim told McCoy, “I’m here for you,” but he was automatically drawn to the closest viewport.
“Not a bad view.” Leonard came to stand beside Jim. “Now that you’ve found me… What do you want to do?”
Jim turned to the man he loved and hesitated. In the end, he decided to let things go. Adopting a grin, he secured an arm about the man’s waist and teased, “I have a few ideas.”
“Jim,” his partner hissed.
“Relax. No one’s around but us.”
McCoy grumbled under his breath but didn’t move away. Together, the pair studied the glimpse of space through the viewport and appeared content.
Behind them, up the stairs and farther along the balcony, a group of people exited the snack bar and quietly made their way to the lifts. McCoy never once turned around, but it was clear his part in their escape had been crucial.
Jim watched the tiny reflections in the window recede.
A door snapped open and closed.
“We had a close call.”
Commander Spock paused in his review of a lab report. “Greetings, Dr. McCoy. If you will wait a moment, I am in the middle of—”
The CMO dragged a chair over to the front of Spock’s desk. “If it weren’t for Scotty’s monitoring program and the Chief of Security’s quick thinking, we would’ve been caught, Spock!”
Accepting that no additional work would be accomplished for the time being, Spock marked his place and minimized the report. He swiveled around to face his visitors, settling his forearms along the arms of his chair.
McCoy eyed him. “Don’t say ‘I told you so’.”
“This is precisely what I said would happen.”
The doctor rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why I bother.”
Spock replied, “I would like to know that also.”
The man huffed, then glared at him. “I came here for support, you pointy-eared hobgoblin!” McCoy raked his fingers through his hair, indicating frustration. “God help me, but I need you.”
Spock steepled his fingers. It had not taken as long as he predicted for Leonard to ask his help. “I do have some suggestions.”
The man’s fierce scowl faded somewhat as he sat up. “Okay then. Let’s hear them.”
Spock withdrew a PADD from a drawer of his desk and activated it but did not hand it over to the doctor right away. “I have one condition… Leonard.”
Leonard looked at him.
“If any point in time it appears this mission may jeopardize our future with Jim, I reserve the right to reveal it.”
McCoy didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “Our future?”
At times like this, he appreciated how perceptive his partner could be. “Affirmative.”
The man reached across the desk but rather than taking the PADD from Spock, he covered the back of Spock’s hand. “All right,” he said, his tone turning teasing. “I always knew you had a soft spot for us.”
“There was a time when it seemed an illogical choice to date the ship’s captain and senior medical officer. In hindsight, I see now why it was in fact quite logical.”
McCoy’s eyes twinkled. “How do you figure that?”
“The alternative would have been to leave you and Jim to manage on your own. I believe you just said something to this effect. It is inevitable that you need me.”
Leonard laughed.
Pleased, Spock handed him the PADD.
The usual clamor of the starship was absent from the Bridge. The crew manned their stations so quietly, they had created an illusion of peace. At the center of this illusion was one man, sprawled in the command chair, fingers tapping away on a palm-sized data padd.
“The atmosphere is much improved these days,” he commented almost too idly, breaking up the silence around him. “Everyone seems so cheery.”
No one offered a direct answer. Some of them made noncommittal noises; others continued on with their work as if he hadn’t spoken.
Jim tucked away his PADD, twisted around in his command chair, and did a slow survey of each crewman. He was drumming his fingers on the chair’s arm by the time he reached the last station.
“Mr. Spock,” he called.
The Vulcan turned around to face him. “Captain?”
Kirk crooked his finger in a gesture of come here. His First Officer obediently stepped down to the lower platform and the command chair there.
“I want to know something, Mr. Spock.”
Spock just blinked at him.
“When was the crew informed that they were allowed to engage in… holiday spirit?” Kirk noted one or two of the other officers tensing at their stations but kept his gaze fixed on the Vulcan.
Spock replied, “Immediately after you approved the initiative, Captain. As you observed, crew morale has improved significantly.” He stared intently at Kirk. “Is there a problem?”
“Of course not, Mr. Spock. I’m only saying—” Here, Jim grinned. “—how come no one told me that I could start celebrating?”
The Vulcan tilted his head ever-so-slightly. “I believe the assumption was that you would begin right away.”
Kirk relaxed back into his chair. “Good point, Commander. Now that we’re on the same page… Mr. Sulu!”
The helmsman glanced over his shoulder.
Jim mimed shooting at him. “I just launched a packet to your console. Cue the music, my man!”
Sulu exchanged a look with Chekov as he replied, “Aye aye, sir.”
A heavy metal version of “Jingle Bell Rock” began to play.
Spock returned to his station, whereupon Uhura leaned as close to him as she could and whispered, “Why do I have an ominous feeling?”
Spock studied the back of their captain’s head and refrained from answering.
The woman who walked into Dr. McCoy’s office unannounced wanted to know, “Is it true?”
“Is what true?” McCoy questioned distractedly, sorting through various articles on his desk.
Nurse Chapel leaned one hip against the corner of his desk. “You’re the only one I know who still insists on paper copies of reports.”
“Can’t help it,” Leonard replied. “I’m old-fashioned.” He added, “But you haven’t seen a paper-hoarder until you’ve had a look at the Captain’s book collection. At least I recycle.”
Christine picked up a leaflet, turned it over in her hand, frowning. “This isn’t a report.”
“It’s an idea,” replied the man, finally looking up to take the paper out of her hand. He collected all the other pieces of paper on his desk into a stack and tucked them out of sight.
“So, it is true,” his head nurse decided. She waved a hand at the drawer where he had put away his project. “That has something to do with it.”
McCoy leaned back in his desk chair and just looked at her.
She smiled. “I won’t ask. I wouldn’t want to risk spoiling the surprise.”
The doctor pursed his mouth. “There might not be one if I don’t decide soon I want to do.” His sigh was loud and agitated. “What was I thinking, Christine?”
She gave him a strange look, asking, “Are you sure you want me to answer that question?”
He dropped his gaze to his desk. “Better not.”
Her voice held a hint of fondness. “Leonard McCoy, why are you such a sweet man?”
McCoy fidgeted and looked uncomfortable. He mumbled something under his breath.
With a laugh, she said dismissively, “I’m not here to lament the fact that yet another good man is taken.”
“Thank god.”
“What I want to know,” she continued on in a firmer tone, “is what perks this department gets from your cute little Kirk-crush.”
He sputtered.
Christine waggled her finger. “I heard other departments are holding holiday parties or game days.”
He stared at her.
“Mr. Spock agreed to let Science build a gingerbread house. Engineering wants to put on a play.” She sniffed. “As of right now, we’re the most boring department on this ship.”
Leonard snapped upright and thumped a fist on his desk, rattling a few PADDs. “Medical is not boring!”
Her eyes twinkled. “That’s what I’m saying, Doctor!”
McCoy pushed to his feet. “Nurse Chapel, call an emergency staff meeting.” He started for his office door, grumbling, “Hobgoblin—tryin’ to show up his own—”
As soon as her boss left, Christine leaned forward and pressed a button by the desk intercom. “Geoff,” she said, “it’s Christine.”
A man’s voice came over the line. “Did it work?”
“Like a charm,” the woman chuckled. “Operation Handicrafts is a go.”
“Oooh… It’s beginning to look a lot like CHRISTMAS… Ev’rywhere you go! Take a look in the five-and-ten, glistening once again, with candy canes and silver lanes aglo—OWW! Hey, that hurt!”
“Stop singing,” warned the person who had popped the singer. “People will hear you.”
“That’s the point!” replied the happy-looking, brown-haired man. He stood on a chair, a measuring device in one hand. “I want to share my Christmas cheer!”
A woman with red hair passed by, saying, “Not all of us celebrate Christmas, Andy.”
“But…”
“I do not understand this festival,” joined in a humanoid with a blue coloring that closely resembled an Andorian. “Why would an obese human try to break into a person’s home by using a receptacle he could not fit through?”
Some of the group laughed. Others shook their heads and returned to their tasks.
A petite-sized man spoke up. “Look, no matter who likes to celebrate—or not celebrate—during this time of year, we all volunteered to be part of this Decorating Committee. Am I right?”
One hand shot up in the air. “I didn’t volunteer!”
The person next to him, namely the ensign’s roommate, threw a string of popcorn garland at his head.
At a table, a woman, short, dark hair curling about her ears, completed her count of paper snowflakes and said, “I think this party was a grand idea. It’s for the Captain, after all.”
The committee decided they could agree on that, and the work resumed.
Some time later, a communicator buzzed. An officer answered it nonchalantly, then froze. Finally whipping around to face his companions, panic showed on his face. “Red alert!” he cried. “Kirk sighting!”
Chaos ensued. The guy on the chair fell off backwards with a screech (and luckily landed on top of two bystanders). The red-haired woman began frantically shoving the popcorn garland into a box. Another pair hastily rolled up a partly decorated banner. The poor ensign who had been commandeered into this duty by his roommate dropped a large bag and disappeared in a cloud of glitter.
When said captain arrived minutes later, everyone was sitting about a small round table, cards in hand, hair and clothes somewhat askew. One of them laughed nervously when Kirk spotted them; his neighbor kicked him under the table. The officers were concentrating so very hard on not being noticed that an awkward pause ensued after Kirk approached the table and greeted them.
“Oh… Hello, Captain,” the red-haired woman, Marla, replied.
Kirk smiled at her. “I see you all are having some fun this evening. Poker?”
She blinked. “Sir?”
“What’s your game?” Kirk clarified, still smiling.
The group sneaked glances at each other. They had each grabbed a handful of cards without deciding on what they were supposed to be playing.
One lieutenant said dutifully, “We’re not gambling, sir. It’s, ah, ah… Go Fish.”
Another lieutenant scrunched his face up in confusion.
“A classic,” their captain remarked amiably. His gaze sharpened, then, but he didn’t add anything. He started to turn away and only paused when his attention landed on a particular person among them. “What happened to you?”
The ensign’s face reddened.
Marla cut in, “It’s… a new fashion, Captain.”
Kirk opened his mouth then closed it again, a wry look on his face. He said, “Carry on,” and headed back the way he had come.
When the door finally closed behind him, everyone melted with relief.
“That,” announced the lead decorator, “was terrifying.”
“What’s Go Fish?” the man on his right wanted to know.
The glittery ensign whimpered. “Should I go to Medical? I’m starting to itch.”
The dark-haired woman remarked, “I don’t think we looked suspicious.”
“Uh, yeah we did!” someone else argued. “We were the most suspicious of anyone who was ever under suspicion!”
“Suspicious or not, we need a new meeting place,” Marla decided. “He could come back, and I really don’t want us to be the ones who spoiled the surprise.”
A chorus of agreement went around the table, and the group diligently gathered up their hastily hidden supplies.
Engineer Scott was happily minding his own business when somebody sneaked up behind him and whispered near his ear, “Scotty!“
He cried out, whacking his head on the top of the maintenance tube in surprise. The surprise turned to pain and cursing.
“Hey, sorry,” said the guy who had scared a decade off his life.
“Oh, of course,” groused Scotty as he backed out of the tube. “It’s you.”
Kirk grinned at him. “Don’t sound so happy to see me, Scotty.”
The engineer waved a tool in his captain’s face. “Can ye not see I’m busy?”
Jim propped a boot up on the edge of the tube’s outer platform and leaned his weight forward on one knee. “I’m busy too,” he said. “I’m trying to track down the source of a certain security program that’s been tracking me.”
“Oh,” Scotty said, faltering. “You have?”
“You wouldn’t happen to know who wrote that program, would you?” Jim questioned, still smiling.
“No. Nope. Of course not!” Scotty glanced around, looking for the quickest exit.
Jim continued to smile at him.
Scotty widened his eyes and cupped a hand around one ear like he could hear something. “What was that? Keenser! Sorry,” he said to Kirk, “I think Keenser needs my help in the engine room. You know he’s too short to man a Workbee.”
“I like Keenser,” Jim replied. “He’s a man of few words.”
Scotty laughed a little too loudly. “Oh, you’re right about that… but he’s definitely needing me in the engine room. Later, Jim!”
“Scotty!” Kirk called before the engineer made it to the opposite side of the ramp.
He turned back.
“It’s weird, don’t you think? That program.”
Sweat broke out on the engineer’s forehead. “Absolutely. I’m sure whoever made that is regretting it this very moment.”
“I think so,” replied Kirk, straightening up. He winked. “Keep up the good work, Mr. Scott.”
Scotty hurried into the engine room where, ironically, Keenser was struggling to reach a console. Scotty jogged over to the Roylan and gave him a boost.
“Perfect Hair is on to us,” he said.
Now standing on the console, the Roylan’s unblinking black stare considered him.
“I know!” Scotty exclaimed, grabbing his head with both hands. “We’re gonna have to think up a Plan B, C, and D!”
The quiet, mid-shift hum of the arboretum was interrupted by an angry muttering: “…can’t believe…of all the…the ship’s own captain!…” The muttering preceded a solitary figure striding along a raised walkway. He didn’t appear to notice the beauty of the natural setting around him, so mired was he in his own misery.
Some flowers swayed gently as the man passed by, turning their flower-heads to follow his path like an audience of tiny curious children. Eventually the man’s gait slowed of its own accord; his chin lifted and his eyes—of a color to match the artificial sky—took in the lazy drift of white clouds. He skimmed his surroundings and picked out a trail that cut around the edge of a grassy knoll. The knoll was occupied by two people sitting side-by-side on a blanket, the makings of a picnic between them. When one of them spied the newcomer, he called out courteously, “Good morning, Captain.”
Captain Kirk returned the greeting and ducked his head, making a quick turn onto a side path that twisted through some of the greenery and disappeared. The arboretum was not overly large but a person could tuck himself into one of its few alcoves.
At the moment, Kirk felt that need to disappear. It was different than the urge to be alone to think, which often led him to the observation deck where he indulged in a kinship with the stars. This place, the botanical gardens, was the nearest thing the Enterprise had to an illusion of escape. So when Jim had to escape for fear that the pressure of his obligations might consume him, he came here. He was rarely disturbed, as though the other visitors also understood the significance of the arboretum.
He paused by the trunk of a tree. A glimpse of white in the distance had him holding his breath, pretending to be part of the tapestry of foliage. Soon enough, the botanist moved on, too intent on taking the daily readings of various plant species to notice a distinctly un-plant-like interloper.
Releasing his breath, Jim continued on. His feet carried him unerringly to his favorite spot in the entire gardens. There he sat down—and nearly jumped out of his skin when something shrieked next to his ear.
The noise grew in volume and insistent until Jim twisted around. The shrieker, a three-foot flower, paused long enough to allow Jim to apologize.
“I didn’t mean to intrude…” Jim glanced down to read the identification card stuck in the ground. “…Gertrude. You must be new here.”
Gertrude’s pink flower petals rustled.
“Jim Kirk,” he introduced himself, shading his eyes so he could get a better look at her. “I guess this is your spot now.”
Gertrude snapped her petals together, then slowly unfurled them.
He didn’t know what to make of that. The card said Gertrude was a weeper species—aptly named, he decided, since his ears were still ringing from her shrieks. He sighed and pushed to his feet.
“Sorry,” he repeated.
As his feet found the trail, he glanced over his shoulder to find Gertrude’s head angled towards him. Her silence gave him pause. Blinking, he shrugged off the odd feeling, and moved down the path.
The flower watched him go.
Leonard McCoy handed a small square disk to the woman at his elbow. “This should get you started.” To the ship’s computer, he said, “E Deck.”
The turbolift began to ascend.
Nyota tapped the disk against the front of the data padd in her hand and read the contents that popped up on the screen. “I’ve never seen a list like this before.”
“They’re Christmas songs.”
“As a music connoisseur, I thought I knew most of the twentieth century tunes. ‘Deck the Halls’? What a strange name!”
“But a good suggestion,” quipped Leonard. “Since it’s going to be obvious something is afoot, I told Spock to report to Jim that we’re forming a new wellness committee geared towards improving crew morale.”
“So not a complete lie,” she said, amused.
“You know Spock can’t tell a lie,” the man shot back.
He grinned, and they laughed.
“Thanks for this,” Nyota said.
“Don’t mention it. You’re the most musically inclined, barring Spock—” Leonard bounced lightly on his toes, eyes twinkling with mischief. “—but no way am I putting a Vulcan in charge of organizing a caroling session.”
“Spock is rather good,” Nyota admitted. “He and I agree that I’m better.”
“We all do, darlin’.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Dr. McCoy.”
He drawled, “Can’t blame a man for tryin’. You’re awful pretty.”
Nyota smiled warmly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Just don’t tell on me.”
The woman winked. “Never, no matter how amusing it would be when Spock finds out.”
“Oh, it’s not Spock I’m worried about. It drives Jim crazy that you’ll flirt with anybody but him.” Leonard snickered. “On second thought, we should do this more often.”
“You’re terrible, Leonard.”
“It’s a joy to be terrible, believe me!” He cleared his throat, then, and leaned towards her. “I included another set of songs for the, uh, you know…”
“For that other matter we discussed?” she finished gently.
He nodded, expression sobering.
Uhura laid a hand on his arm. “Leave it to me.”
“Thanks, Nyota.”
She smiled at him as the computer announced the lift’s arrival at their destination.
Leonard held out a hand, saying with charm, “Ladies first,” and followed his friend and colleague into the corridor.
The pair who walked into the crew’s messroom had to stop to take in their surroundings.
Chekov said, “Zhey decorated.”
“I’m not sure I like the colors,” Sulu replied, eyeing the red and green motif. “Did we sanction this?”
“It is festive. I smell food!” Chekov latched on to his companion’s arm pulled him to the adjoining kitchen. “Cookies!”
A cheery blonde in a yeoman’s uniform waved them inside.
“Hi, Janice,” Chekov greeted her. “Can we help?”
Sulu gave the woman a polite nod. “Rand.”
“You’re just in time, you two. We need more hands.” Janice Rand directed the men over to a counter where another man stood, looking like he couldn’t quite figure out how he had gotten there. “You will be working with Danny.”
“Hello,” said Danny. “Did you fall for it too?”
Pavel blinked. “For what?”
Sulu sighed. “Apparently.” He studied the items on the counter. “What are we doing exactly?”
“Decorating,” answered Danny grimly.
Chekov stared down the long line of cookie trays. “So… no eating zhem?”
A spatula came down with a crack near Chekov’s hand. All three men jumped.
“These,” Rand said in an authoritarian tone, “are not yours.” She pointed her spatula at each one of them. “If I find one less cookie than should be accounted for, there will be hell to pay, boys.”
“Rand,” Sulu tried to say, “we’re only here because—”
“Of the captain,” she finished for him. “I heard. You and the Seniors set this in motion, Sulu, so man up!”
“Can we have one cookie each after we decorate zhem?” Chekov tried to bargain.
Janice narrowed her eyes. “These cookies go to Captain Kirk. I can see I need to keep my eye on you, Pavel. Now get to work! I have another three dozen for the ovens. We need to be done by lunchtime!”
“I hate the holidays,” Sulu muttered.
“They do make people crazy,” Danny added. “Wish I had taken my meal with the lads in Engineering.”
Pavel began dispensing bakers’ gloves. “Zhis will be fun,” he said, although he no longer sounded certain of that. Holding up a tube of icing and a bowl of sprinkles, he questioned, “Red or green?”
Sulu groaned.
Gertrude the Weeper was actually a sweetheart. Jim discovered this on his third, rather desperate visit to the gardens after being brushed off or lied to by people he thought were his friends. He sought out his old spot, lonelier than he had ever felt, and discovered that this time Gertrude had no intention of scaring him away. Pretending he wasn’t curious to know more about her, he sat on the ground and adopted a pose Spock had taught him.
The fact that Spock had been too busy as of late to join him for their morning meditation was not lost on Kirk. Really, it was no different than Leonard forgoing their ritual evening drink.
He thought he might have done something to cause them to push him away, but when he considered the matter from all angles, he could only conclude different. They had changed, were changing—his worst fear come true. Rather than moving towards commitment, Bones and Spock had finally grown tired of his company. Maybe they had simply decided they liked each other better.
“Idiot,” he chastised himself. “Don’t borrow trouble.” His head drooped. He was far past the point of succeeding in boosting his own confidence.
When Jim sighed, something gently brushed against his shoulder.
He didn’t dare move while Gertrude inspected his shoulder and arm, her petals rustling across the fabric of his gold tunic.
When her exploration ceased, he joked, “You’re not thinking about eating me, I hope.”
The flower twisted around to face him, seemed to consider him before lengthening her stem and opening her petals to the sun. Unlike an earth flower, she had no stamens or carpels and did not reproduce by pollination. Though she was carnivorous, he had yet to see what organic matter she consumed to survive.
Jim knew his understanding of her species was limited. But that didn’t stop him from expressing an honest opinion. “You’re very beautiful.”
Gertrude was waved her petals in the air, as if processing his statement. Then she began to trill. The trilling was much softer than her shrieks.
Jim turned the opportunity into an invitation. He faced her, propping his chin up on his hand and said, “Back in my day, I was known as quite the charmer… but I’ll tell you a secret, Gertrude.”
Her petals continued to wave.
“It takes a very special appeal to catch my eye.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I think you’re that kind of special.”
Gertrude froze, then snapped her petals together to hide herself.
Jim laughed. “Was that too much?” When he heard a muffled shriek, he said, “All right, all right! I apologize.”
Gertrude unfurled.
“Thank you, Gertrude,” Jim said sincerely. “My mood has improved.” When Gertrude angled towards him, he explained, “Sometimes I forget that being alone isn’t the smartest solution.” He paused, asked her politely, “Can I visit you again?”
The flower trilled.
He accepted that response as a yes.
Leonard’s personal PADD beeped, alerting him to an incoming message. He glanced down, saw the message was from Jim, and immediately felt guilty. Between doing his day job and spending his evenings with various crewmen who knew more about event planning than he did, yet seemed to need his approval on every detail, he realized he was walking a fine line concerning his personal relationship with Jim. Jim had said nothing about their abbreviated good morning calls, the lack of aligned lunch and dinner schedules, or the fact that Leonard had only once slipped into the Captain’s quarters in the last week and that was when Jim was already asleep. To make matters even worse, Leonard honestly had no idea if Spock was making an attempt to be with Jim in his absence.
If not… That scenario didn’t bear thinking about.
Leonard started to reply to Jim’s simple request of Dinner? when his second-in-command, Dr. M’Benga, came around the corner in a hurry and said, “Medical alert, Doctor. The gymnasium.”
Leonard set his PADD down on the nearest cart and picked up a medkit. He pointed to two of the staff in the room and said, “You’re with me.”
They ran all the way to the gym, which was about as far from Sickbay as it could be despite being on the same deck. It was unusually crowded. Leonard had to push through a tight group of bystanders and climb into what he could only describe as an arena.
“Wow,” one of his nurses said as they finally caught a good look at the arena’s occupants.
The other nurse whistled. “A gal doesn’t see this every day.”
“Which is a crying shame!”
A man dressed in hardly anything more than a loincloth and leather gauntlets waved his hand in the air to draw their attention. “Dr. McCoy! Over here!”
Behind the fellow, Leonard spotted a man laying motionless on the floor. He recognized Giotto despite his bizarre outfit, who knelt next to the injured officer, talking to him in a low tone.
When Leonard reached them, he dropped to one knee and scanned the patient, asking, “What happened?”
“Side-swiped by a spear,” grunted Giotto.
Leonard forgot his tricorder for a second. “A spear?“
The Chief of Security was known to be someone who didn’t embarrass easily but in that moment Giotto looked like the most embarrassed person in the room. He coughed and answered more slowly, “Yes, Doctor. A spear.”
Leonard’s gaze took in the details of Giotto’s outfit then the outfits of the other officers gathered around them. One fellow tugged self-consciously at straps of leather that barely covered his groin. Many of them did have spears in hand—along with wooden shields, metal helmets, and in one case a very large axe.
“What,” McCoy said with a patience that belied the intensity of his tone of voice, “in god’s name is going on here?”
“A festival, Doctor,” Giotto replied, clearing his throat when he saw McCoy’s incredulous expression. “Saturnalia. It’s Roman. Pre-dates Christmas.”
Lord Almighty, thought Leonard. He resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and finished reviewing the tricorder’s results. To a nurse, he ordered, “Call for a gurney. Let’s get this man to Sickbay.”
The man in question groaned in dismay. “Mr. Giotto, I was winning, right?”
“It’s not a competition,” Giotto told his officer, but his tone of voice was far from stern as he added, “But you were doing great, son.”
The man grinned lopsidedly at them all.
When the gurney arrived, McCoy and his team carefully loaded their patient. For a brief second, Leonard considered staying behind to find out just what possessed Security to host gladiatorial games with authentically replicated weapons, but he watched the men and women who came up to the gurney to congratulate their brother-in-arms for a battle well-fought and realized how hypocritical of him it would be to place the blame on their shoulders.
Giotto, who was watching him instead of the others, gave Leonard a tiny, knowing smile.
In the end, the doctor had to bite his tongue and tend to the concussed but stupidly grinning security officer without complaint.
Jim dropped his towel to the bed and flung his body long-ways across the end. He waited a moment, listening to the tap-tap-tapping from the nearby alcove, before turning on his side and propping his head up on one fist. He cleared his throat. A few seconds later, he cleared his throat a second time.
When nothing happened, Jim sighed and asked, “Is your work that interesting?”
“Yes, most interesting.” The person paused, then, as if rethinking what he just said, and glanced at Jim. “Perhaps I should rephrase that statement?”
Jim just grinned. “I get it, Spock. Mathematics always trumps the sight of your naked partner.”
Spock blinked. Then, slowly, he powered down his device. “You have my attention, Jim.”
With a laugh, Jim flopped onto his back. “Forget it. I wasn’t that serious.” He tucked an arm under his head and contemplated the ceiling. “But since I have your attention, I will pose a question.” The skin around his eyes tightened, but his voice stayed congenial. “You’re hiding something from me, Spock. How do I make you tell me what it is?”
Spock didn’t answer him right away, which to Jim was damning enough.
“It’s serious then,” he concluded.
“Jim… I regret that I must tell you this. I have taken a vow of silence.”
“Who would dare—!” he began with a hint of temper, only to fall silent. Then, “Bones.” Jim pulled his arm out from under his head and thumped a fist softly against the bedcovers.
The mattress dipped as Spock settled on the edge of the bed, hands tucked in his evening robe. “You are angry.”
Jim looked at him. “Disappointed. I thought we would share every… I just thought we would share, Spock. Was I wrong?”
“No,” Spock told him. “But I hope you will not think either of ill of us, Jim. Consider this situation as unique. Special news requires special timing. The real travesty would be to reveal a secret before its time.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Jim’s mouth. “That sounds like something Bones would say.”
Spock’s eyes took on a familiar glint. “He also convinced me in other ways.”
“Oh,” Jim said, his interest shifting, “did he?”
Spock’s voice took on that slight rumbling quality that both Kirk and McCoy enjoyed. “Do you need to be convinced, Jim?”
Since his body was in eager agreement, he tugged at the fastenings of the Vulcan’s robe. “I’ll let you know how convinced I am in the morning.”
“Fair enough,” Spock replied, leaning down to capture his lover’s hands and kiss him.
Related Posts:
- [Masterpost] Family Outlives the Season – from December 25, 2015
- Family Outlives the Season (3/3) – from December 25, 2015
- Family Outlives the Season (2/3) – from December 24, 2015
