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The transporter room doors whooshed open, revealing Captain James T. Kirk in his formal dress greens. “Chief Kyle, take a break.”
“Sir?” Kyle quietly turned over the PADD where he’d been playing the good Ferengi knockoff of Starship Sims . In celebration of the new crew deck expansion, his First Officer Sim bought a crib and suggestively raised one pointed eyebrow at the Captain Sim.
“Enjoy an unexpected hour off,” said Kirk. “I’ll com you when you’re needed here again.”
“Should I wait outside?” Kyle frowned. There really wasn’t any place he could stand where someone coming out the door wouldn’t see his PADD.
“The entire hall between here and sickbay is officially cleared for the next hour, so the closest you’ll be waiting is outside Conference Room 7,” Kirk said, taking position behind the transporter console.
“Yes, sir.” Kyle picked up his PADD, making sure the still-running Sim was facing his chest.
“No rumors, chief,” Kirk narrowed his eyes.
“About what?” Kyle shot him an innocent smile. “Captains and department heads do surprise inspections all the time. I hope everything in here is up to your exacting standards, sir.” He reached over to straighten one of the captain’s medals. “Please let me know about any areas where I can improve.”
Kirk looked down at the medals on his chest, then over at Kyle. “Do you still have a flask mounted behind the secondary relay panel?”
“Of course not, sir.” Kyle kicked one heel against the wall. An invisible panel popped open. On the inside, a small, non-regulation shelf held a dented silver flask. He unscrewed the cap and offered it to Kirk. “It’s in the port equalizer. Not sure how long it’s been since anyone topped it off, though.”
“Before I put it back, I’ll make sure it’s filled with something other than Scotty’s reactor fuel.”
The communicator at Kirk’s hip beeped. He lifted the flask to Kyle in a toast. “Off you go, Chief.”
A faint “whoo hoo!’ escaped from Kyle’s PADD as he slipped out the door. Kirk rolled his eyes and flipped his communicator open.
“Kirk here.”
“Two to beam up, Captain,” said Spock. “Promptly.”
This could be the end of both their careers. Jim took a quick swig. A burn that could clean hull plating left him coughing hard as his hands moved over the controls.
Golden light sparkled on the platform, quickly coalescing around Spock’s tall, lean form. He was hunched over a boxy black mobile life support system, one hand protectively wrapped around Admiral Christopher Pike’s neck and face, the other holding a phaser pointed directly at Jim.
“It’s good to see you again, Chris,” said Kirk.
“Captain, time is of the essence.” Spock unfolded from his embrace of the life support unit, holstering his phaser.
Kirk pushed a button on the console. “Kirk to Sulu. Course laid in?”
“Yes sir.” Sulu’s voice filled the transporter room.
Kirk looked into Pike’s one good eye, smiling widely. “Hit it.”
Officially, the Enterprise was three sectors away conducting ship-to-ship repairs. When Captain Chin-Riley requested Scotty’s unique brand of engineering expertise for the mysterious problems plaguing the Gorgon’s port nacelle, Starfleet was happy to oblige.
Unofficially, they were en route to Omicron Ceti III.
“News, lieutenant?” The senior staff gathered around a conference table in their civvies. Uhura held up a silencing hand, eyes unfocused as she listened to a message that had been sent through her own coded encryption. After a long moment, she took out her earpiece, placed both hands palms down on the table, and took a deep breath.
“Don’t keep us in suspense.” McCoy narrowed his eyes at Uhura.
“Ortegas and Noonian-Singh are in custody for the kidnapping of Admiral Pike,” said Uhura. “Amanda Grayson’s lawyers expect to have them out on bail in the next twelve hours. Scuttlebutt says ships are being sent to Talos IV and Illyria for a very, very quiet search.”
Spock sat next to Admiral Pike, one hand resting on his psi points. “The Admiral asks whether Una is under suspicion.”
Scotty and Uhura both laughed. “Of course she is, laddie. Tis a good thing I’m hip deep in the Gorgon's ample nacelles so I can provide an alibi.”
“You wish you were hip deep in Una’s nacelles,” Uhura smirked.
Spock sideyed the Admiral. After a long, slow breath, he said, “The Admiral says, and I quote, we all do.”
Kirk picked up a bottle of champagne, a twinkle in his eyes. “Any suspicion about his real whereabouts or destination?”
“None that I can find.” Uhura’s grin widened. “We’ve covered our tracks. All our allies are exactly where we need them to be. I don’t want to jinx it, but…”
She flipped her PADD over and pushed one red painted nail against a bright gold button. Fireworks crossed the main display as it lit up with a Karaoke program. Celebratory dance music blasted from the speakers and a small disco ball descended from the ceiling.
“Congratulations, Chris!” Uhura gave Pike a kiss on the forehead, then pulled back, smiling. “And this one’s from Una.” She put on a fresh coat of blood red lipstick and smacked a wet kiss on Pike’s cheek, leaving a dramatic red lip print behind.
“He says Captain Chin-Riley has better aim,” said Spock.
“Watch out, Commander. There’s plenty more lipstick in this tube.” Uhura teasingly blew him a kiss.
“No.” Spock stared into Pike’s good eye. The light on Pike’s mobile life support chair blinked once for Yes.
“Come on, Spock! Tell us what he said!” Jim uncorked the champagne and poured glasses for everyone.
“No.” Spock took his hand off Pike’s face and crossed his arms.
Bones poured himself a Saurian Brandy, chuckling.
“Iffin ye like, I brought a gift.” Scotty pulled a box out from under the table. After a bit of rustling, he proudly held up a baseball hat with a cupholder attached to each side. A Y shaped silicone straw stretched down from the cups, merging into a single easy sipping straw.
Pike’s jaw sagged a little bit lower, his good eye widening in shock. The light on his life support unit flashed five times in a row for an eager yes. Scotty carefully fitted it into place, taping the straw to Pike’s cheek so it wouldn’t slip out of his mouth between sips.
“If I recall you like a Märzen the color of your uniform.” Jim held up a bottle.
Pike’s light flashed once for yes. Before Kirk could pour for him, the chair moved sideways, gently bumping into Spock’s side. Spock’s fingers once more sought out his friend’s psi points.
“He says it’s the color of your uniform, now.” Spock stared into Pike’s good eye, then sighed wearily, “ Son. They dolled me up in that god awful red monstrosity with a built in bib.” The corner of Spock’s mouth ticked up in a faint smile. “Don’t let them promote you until the next uniform change.”
Jim laughed as he filled both glasses attached to Pike’s hat with golden German beer. Pike took the long drink of a man who hadn’t been allowed any vices in all too long. He sighed contentedly, shoulders visibly relaxing in his chair.
Spock took a sip of his champagne before putting a hand back on the Admiral’s face. “Captain,” Spock stared into Pike’s good eye, eyebrow raised judgementally. “Why the,” he gave Pike a long stare, “actual fuck are we having a party in a conference room instead of your quarters?”
The entire room broke out in laughter.
“Because Jimbo is a god damned idiot,” said Bones. Scotty tapped his glass against McCoy’s, nodding agreement.
“This is your old quarters!” Uhura climbed onto one end of the conference room table and crossed her legs, patting the plain white surface. “Your kitchen island would’ve been about here.”
Pike narrowed his one good eye at Jim.
“Admiral Nogura remembered all the times I asked why there were so damn many open fires on your ship,” Kirk shrugged an apology. “So before I took over, they ripped out your entire kitchen and cut your quarters down to make Spock’s and my suites, plus this conference room.”
“He says you should have chosen a spacious hobby.”
Pike’s light beeped twice. All eyes slid to Spock. He sighed. “He says if you weren’t so damn busy climbing the ranks you would’ve networked with other captains and learned,” he looked physically pained, “the secrets of space.”
The room filled with laughter. Uhura kissed Pike’s forehead, leaving a fainter second lip print. “He really does make his own bed, doesn’t he?”
Kirk held up a hand. “She doesn’t mean literally! I have a yeoman for that!”
“Captain Chin-Riley demanded holos of us all in exchange for providing cover for our mission.” Scotty held up a holo imager, smiling at Uhura. She posed behind Pike’s chair, one arm draped over his shoulder, the other draped over Spock’s. Jim and Bones squeezed in, glasses held up in a toast.
“Mission?” Bones snorted. “It’s a god damned kidnapping!”
Pike’s chair beeped once for Yes, setting off a whole new round of laughter.
Kirk held up a hand. “Alright, before we’re all too drunk to remember the new plan, Spock, walk us through it.”
Spock nodded once. “Officially, Starfleet’s medics declared that Chris’s body is too deteriorated for the spores of Omicron Ceti III to offer any aid.”
Uhura, Scotty, and McCoy all booed while Pike’s light flashed twice for no.
“Unofficially, Captain Kirk, Captain Chin-Riley, and I believe the fleet found Admiral Pike’s current state useful in multiple ways. First, it prevents him from using his influence with the Admiralty, the fleet, his former officers, and civilians who benefited from his work,” said Spock.
Pike’s good eye narrowed with bitterness as his light flashed once for ‘yes.’
“Second, displaying him on stage in his current state has garnered critical support for issues Starfleet had previously been at a stalemate with when dealing with the civilian government.”
“Bastards,” muttered Scotty. Uhura topped off his drink, nodding in agreement.
“And third,” Bones interrupted, “they wanna use him as a guinea pig. First thing I did once he was onboard was a full scan of both the man and the machine. There’s a lot more in that chair than just life support.”
The chair’s light beeped once for yes.
“As far as I’m concerned, if all they can do for him on Omicron Ceti III is get his voice back, that alone will make this worth it,” Kirk nodded at Pike. “Though it is an endless delight watching Spock’s look of exasperation when you ask him to stop paraphrasing.”
Chris winked and took another long drink of his beer.
“But I’m more optimistic than that,” said Bones. “We're gonna get the Admiral out of that damn toaster! I’ve had a good look at the experimental clinic’s unpublished papers, thanks to someone with higher clearance requesting them for me.”
Spock sighed heavily. “The Admiral asked me to, and I quote, whistle innocently.”
Kirk leaned back in his chair and spread his arms wide. “Well? We’re waiting.”
Uhura snuck behind Spock and whistled loudly. Pike laughed so hard that he blew little bubbles back up into his beer.
“Settle down, you heathens!” Bones shouted over their laughter. “These reports are a doozy! I was impressed when old Sandoval regrew his appendix, but in the year the clinic has been open, one of the patients grew a whole new lung,” said Bones.
Uhura bounced excitedly. Scotty shyly pulled a starship shaped fidget from his pocket and offered it to her. She beamed up at him as she took it.
“It is our hope that the pollen will have significant restorative effects on Admiral Pike,” said Spock. “However, Omicron Ceti III is under protective orders. Only pre-approved ships transporting medical supplies, food, and limited outside correspondence are allowed to visit.”
“Otherwise the planet would be wall to wall bodies,” said McCoy. “People with everything from brain tumors to a hangnail would be rippin’ up flowers, hoping for a cure. Projections suggest if word gets out it’ll take less than 3 years for the flowers to go completely extinct.”
“There are six new colonies where medical researchers are attempting to transplant the flowers,” said Spock. “They are in the midst of double blind studies to determine first,” he held up one finger, “whether the plants develop a symbiotic healing relationship in any atmosphere. Second, if the healing effects require Berthold radiation, and third, whether a planet with a similar biome but less damaging rays will still trigger the cellular repairs.”
“Now I love a good double blind study as much as the next man,” said Bones.
“No you don’t,” Kirk grinned into his brandy. “You’re always shooting us up with untested, experimental cures.”
“Anyway - I ain’t willing to risk the Admiral here ending up in a blind study’s control group. So once Starfleet gets bored’a the Ortegas and Noonian-Singh song and dance, we planted a little evidence suggesting he’s on the trial planet with no radiation. Considerin’ how he ended up this way, that should ring true to the brass.”
Pike’s chair flashed once for yes.
“Meaning no disrespect,” said Scotty, “but what’s in it for the colonists?”
Uhura leaned sideways so her upper arm bumped against his. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “We’re bringing them contraband.”
“What sort of contraband does an experimental medical colony want?” asked Scotty.
“Vices, Mister Scott,” said Spock. “The Admiral says the Omicron Ceti III Medical Colony has all the entertainment opportunities of Vulcan, cuisine of Tellar, and masturbatory aids of a Horta nest.”
“Wow. You’re really selling this colony!” Jim grinned at him.
“As such, we will hide data carts within the Admiral’s chair containing entertainment programs and replicator recipes which have not been approved by the colony’s administration.”
“Mostly because an actual living being has to manually review everything sent to an experimental colony,” said Bones. “And no one wants to watch over a thousand hours of The Stars Live In Your Eyes. ”
“You’re not better than us for denying yourself one of life’s most harmless pleasures,” Uhura purred.
“I surely am,” Bones grinned at her. “Y’all are a buncha heathens.”
Kirk lifted his glass, smiling at Pike and Spock, “Then let us drink to heathens, sinners, and the friends who love them.”
The golden light of the transporter beam faded, leaving them on a wide, wheelchair friendly path outside the Omicron Ceti III Med Spa. Tall white blooms rose thickly on either side, ripe with sticky yellow pollen. Boot prints led the way under the cheerful central arch and into the spa itself.
Jim flipped his communicator open, glaring at the flowers.
“The flowers are a necessary part of the treatment, Captain.” Spock gently closed Kirk’s communicator. “If you recall, they not only protect residents from Berthold radiation, but also…”
“Yes, yes,” Kirk interrupted. “I know why we’re here. I thought they’d be in a contained environment, perhaps a greenhouse somewhere. Not lining the sidewalk.”
“The plants fail to thrive indoors,” said Spock. “The colony leaders estimate a forty seven point six percent chance of poaching within the next year, rising to sixty nine percent the year after. Therefore they encourage the plants to grow wherever they choose in order to decrease the odds of extinction should they be invaded by the desperate.”
“You’d think the Berthold radiation would discourage people,” said Kirk.
“Indeed. That is why the odds are so low,” said Spock.
Kirk eyed the flowers, shaking his head. “I know he needs them,” He nodded at Pike. “But I don’t want to punch you again to stop another mutiny.”
Pike rolled his chair so it gently bumped against Spock’s side. He nodded absently and rested a hand over Pike’s psi points. They both looked at Kirk, humor twinkling in Pike’s good eye.
Spock sighed in resignation. “The Admiral says mutiny is Mr. Spock’s second favorite hobby.”
Jim stared at Pike, wide eyed, then covered his mouth to hide his laughter. “I’m glad our chess games rank above mutiny on your list of favorite activities.”
Pike’s light flashed twice for no. Spock raised one eyebrow, then stared him down, hand still on his meld points. After a long moment, he firmly said. “No.”
Pike winked.
Spock stepped away from him and folded his hands behind his back, earning an eyeroll from the wheelchair bound man.
“Watch out, Spock. If all goes well here, when he’s able to talk again I’m going to ask what he just told you.”
A lanky figure ran down the path, waving her arms at them. Her long, fuzzy robe gathered yellow pollen along the hem like the belly of an oversized bee.
“Ooof!” She leaned against the arch, hands braced on her knees, panting a little. “I thought you’d have at least ten minutes of tearful goodbyes, but that one,” she looked pointedly at Spock, “is contemplating beaming you all back to the ship and putting the Admiral in the brig.”
“He contemplates a lot of misbehavior,” said Kirk. “But he’s repressed enough to keep it all inside.”
She held up a hand, laughing hard as she struggled to catch her breath. “Vrinda!” she panted, pointing at her chest. “Betazed. One of the first patients here.” She stared into Pike’s good eye and gave him a triumphant grin. “My new lung,” she patted her chest again, taking another deep breath, “isn’t used to sudden exercise.”
Pike’s light blinked five times in a show of excitement.
She nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, I hear you!” Vrinda tapped her temple with two fingers. “My psi centers were damaged. Hell, everything was. Right now I can listen but I can’t broadcast, so I have to talk with my mouth like a human. Yeah, yeah!” She laughed again and shot Pike a saucy wink. “Oh, you’re going to be trouble.”
His chair blinked once for yes.
“If the three of you would like -” She cocked her head to one side, staring curiously at Pike. The men watched her face go on a journey from confusion to understanding to amusement before she tried and failed to look professionally neutral. “Of course. I’m happy to help.”
Vrinda pushed herself away from the cheerful welcoming arch with a slight wince. “Now before you get too excited, I have good news and bad news for you, Admiral.” She limped from the arch to his side, one hand lightly brushing over the tall white flowers as she walked.
“I showed up on a ventilator.” She was still breathing hard from the exertion. “Missing one lung and a good chunk of my liver. Massive tissue damage. More bones broken than not. Our goal was to get me good enough to live out my life in a chair like yours.” She rapped her knuckles against it twice.
“It seems you’ve more than succeeded,” said Kirk.
“It’s incredible.” She shot him a wide grin, then her head slowly rolled around to look Pike in the eye again. “Incredibly painful. Holy shit my knees! They make me miss my old wheelchair! The good news is you’re going to grow parts you never knew you had. The bad news is we’ve all learned why babies cry so much. You would too if your whole body was growing and changing nonstop.”
She sat on the edge of Pike’s mobile life support unit and patted the top of his head. “So you’re going to have to be a brave little toaster.” Her eyes widened and she laughed so hard she almost fell off the side of the black box.
“I believe the Admiral told her he is a very large toaster,” said Spock. “And then made a joke about the meatiness of his breakfast sausage.”
Pike’s central light flashed once, making Vrinda snort.
Kirk gently squeezed his bicep. “You’ve spent too much time inside that man’s head this week.”
Spock stared into Pike’s twinkling good eye. “Indeed.”
“So here’s the fine print,” said Vrinda. “You too can have the body of a geriatric coal miner! But only if you can tame those strong emotions. Pain will make you angry, and when you get angry enough - oh, hell, the healers can explain how it works, but what you need to know is strong emotions cancel out the effects of the spores.”
Spock and Jim exchanged a knowing look.
Vrinda reached into her fluffy pink bathrobe and pulled out half a stale croissant. She sat it on the side of Pike’s mobile life support unit and reached into another pocket. Out came two fraying playing cards - both Queens, a remote control, a sugar and grease streaked PADD, and finally, triumphantly, a bright red plastic pouch twice the size of her hand.
“Is that Meloment?” Spock raised an eyebrow.
“Mellow out, have a mellow moment! Bad vibes are your only opponent! Meloment!” Vrinda sang the all too familiar jingle.
“It’s catchier in the original Tellerite,” said Kirk.
Vrinda unzipped the cheerful pouch. “We also have painkillers, but they’re less fun and they slow down the healing process. This gets you right back in the zone. If you hate your body so much you kick all the spores out of your brain, you just chew that stress away and go sniff the pretty flowers.”
“I can’t decide whether that would make this experimental medical facility more or less appealing to the public,” said Kirk.
“You’re adorable.” She pulled out a small wad of something that looked like moss and held it up in front of Pike’s face. “You want to get in a healing mood, Admiral?”
“Starfleet disapproves of -” Kirk stopped himself as Pike stared up at her eagerly, jaw open. She tucked the moss between his lower teeth and gums. Their eyes locked, and a mischievous grin slowly took over her face.
Suddenly, Vrinda hopped on the back of Pike’s mobile life support unit. He zoomed forward, colliding with the nearest flowers. A cloud of sweet, sticky pollen exploded all around them. Vrinda sneezed hard as he put the chair in reverse, knocking pollen out of the flowers behind them. All four found themselves dusted with the pollen’s golden hues.
“Pike!” Kirk gasped as pollen coated his mouth with a taste like rosewater flavored cotton candy. “What the hell, Chris!”
Spock staggered after Pike, who stopped knocking pollen from the flowers and took off at the chair’s surprisingly fast top speed, racing for the main building.
Vrinda sneezed into his hair, laughing as she held on. She shrieked as Spock’s hand closed around her fluffy pink robe. One hand let go of Pike so she could shrug out of her sleeve. She switched hands so it could slide the rest of the way off her.
Spock’s grip on the freed robe made him stagger. He fell forward, crouching into a protective roll that left his body twisted in the pink fabric.
Vrinda’s loud whoop of victory was cut off by another sneeze. The pair of them wheeled straight for the welcome center’s closed main doors. “Ramming speed, Captain!” Vrinda shouted.
Kirk caught up with Spock, breathing hard. He gripped Spock’s shoulders as the pair of them watched the impending collision.
“Dammit, Chris! You can’t play chicken with a door!” Kirk shouted.
The chair sped closer and closer. Just as the front bumper would’ve slammed into the glass, the doors whooshed open, briefly revealing a deeply annoyed looking Vulcan healer and half a dozen laughing patients. The doors slid shut again just as Vrinda sneezed on the healer.
Jim collapsed on the pollen covered walkway, both hands still on Spock’s shoulders. “You know, I worried a man in his condition would have trouble making friends.”
“Admiral Pike’s natural charisma supersedes physical limitations,” said Spock.
“Here, let me help.” Kirk stretched a leg out, pinning Spock’s long limbs to the ground in order to stop him squirming. The sleeves and belt of Vrinda’s fluffy pink robe had somehow worked themselves into knots across Spock’s hips and thighs. “To the left. No, not like that,” Jim tried to work the sleeve loose and instead shoved his hand up underneath Spock’s blue science tunic.
Their eyes met.
“Captain,” Spock stopped struggling. He lay with one arm bound to his side, his long legs pinned beneath Jim’s, a bare hand on his chest.
“Spock.” Jim’s voice was low and husky. He let his hand slide up until he could reach through the neck hole and cup his jaw.
Flowers on either side of them erupted in a fresh rain of pollen. Jim watched it fall on Spock’s cheeks like shooting stars captured against his skin. He brushed one off with a fingertip and tasted it.
“This is why I had to break the spell last time,” said Jim. “Your paradise was Leila. Mine,” he stroked a thumb across Spock’s cheek, “was you.”
“You would rather strike me than risk -”
Jim lay a finger over Spock’s lips. “Rejection?”
“How could you doubt?” Spock’s one free hand wrapped around Jim’s waist, fingertips barely breaching the hem.
“Vulcans don’t show emotion, Mr. Spock.” Jim leaned in until the tips of their noses barely touched.
“Jim,” Spock said huskily, “We developed logic to control our emotions, not to erase them.”
“How is your control right now?” Jim’s nose slid alongside Spock’s, lips millimeters apart. “I’m your captain. I can’t make the first move.” He pulled back far enough that he could look into Spock’s eyes. “So what shall we do next, Mr. Spock? Contact the ship? Request a decontamination shower and watch sad movies until we cry?”
Jim laughed as Spock rolled them over, pinning him into place. “You are renowned as a lover. I request a demonstration of human kissing.”
“Shall I go fetch Vrinda?” Jim laughed at Spock’s angry glare. “Oh? You want a hands-on demonstration of my technique?”
He flipped his hand over to get a good grip on the inside of Spock’s collar and pulled him down.
Spock’s lips were dry but soft, tasting of cotton candy pollen and this morning’s kreplach. He let go of the collar in favor of dragging his hand down Spock’s firm chest, over the soft black hair towards the promises of his navel and below - only to be stopped at the waist by Vrinda’s fluffy pink robe.
“We have to get you out of this!” Jim pecked soft kisses on Spock’s mouth, laughing as he pushed them apart.
Spock struggled against the robe again until Jim pushed a hand down on his chest. He watched as thick, calloused fingers made a map of his body, roaming over the bare skin of his exposed belly just over the robe, down to his outer thighs, one hand sliding up his inner thigh. Spock’s nostrils flared, eyes widening as Jim’s hand dipped lower.
Jim’s thumb eased into the belt’s tight knot. He bent down to tug one side of the fabric loose with his teeth, leaving his head separated from Spock’s groin only by underwear, trousers, and the fluffy pink robe. He suddenly sat up, smiling in triumph as a section of the knot unraveled.
Something wrapped in brown paper plopped onto Spock’s leg. Jim cautiously picked it up and sniffed it. “Is this an entire chicken salad sandwich?”
Spock nodded towards the litter under the welcoming arch. “She did abandon her PADD, playing cards, a remote control, and half a croissant when she and the Admiral began their shenanigans.”
“I bet you could find the Shroud of Turin in here.” Jim grinned and began aggressively frisking the robe in search of more pockets.
“Jim.” Spock’s hand closed around his wrist. “Focus.”
His grin turned wolfish. “Look down.”
Spock’s eyes widened as he realized that amid the distraction, Jim had unfastened his pants.
“I am a man of many talents,” Jim held up a slightly squished mandarin orange he found in the robe’s pockets. “And many snacks. I wonder if it’s the pollen or the Meloment that makes her so hungry.”
“Quite probably the healing,” said Spock. “Growing an entire organ is a calorically demanding activity.”
“You know what else requires a lot of energy?” Kirk’s hands slid up long, lean thighs. He stared into Spock’s eyes as his hand gently rubbed over the hardness trapped beneath his Starfleet briefs.
“Uh, guys?” The welcome center doors whooshed open again, this time revealing an Andorian patient in comfortable looking pajamas and a stained green robe with bulging pockets. “Healer T’Ired says you have to use the Tantric Healing Garden or the parking lot where we keep the four wheelers. We would’a let you fuck on the welcome path, but she said by the time we all got written permission from you both it would’a killed the mood.”
He pulled out a PADD and proffered it towards them with a hopeful smile. “Unless you want to sign a general release for observation and recording?”
Jim leaned past the stranger. Behind him, half a dozen more hopeful patients waved. Several were still recording on their PADD’s.
“Pike is going to love it here.” Jim sat up straight, tugging his shirt back into position. “We should get back to the ship.”
Spock pulled a half eaten chocolate bar from one of Vrinda’s pockets and eyed it thoughtfully. “Is there privacy in the Tantric Healing Garden?”
Jim’s own eyebrows shot up at Spock’s question.
“Nah. They’re legally required to keep an eye on us all,” the Andorian shrugged. “Stay here long enough and everyone becomes an exhibitionist.”
“Get a room!” Vrinda shouted from inside.
“An excellent idea.” Spock stood, shaking himself free from the robe. Cookie crumbs rained from Vrinda’s pockets.
Jim stared long and hard at the open fly of Spock’s trousers mere centimeters from his face. He licked his lips.
“Or sign the release!” shouted another patient. They shuffled towards the door, holding playing cards, a large popcorn bowl, and PADD’s visibly set to record. Their slack and injured faces lit up with excitement, eyes twinkling.
“Sign it. Sign it. Sign it!” the patients chanted.
Spock held out a hand. Jim took it, feeling an electric thrill of desire and amusement spread through him at the contact. Once on his feet, he rested his free hand on Spock’s chest and stared up into his eyes.
The patients inside watched breathlessly. After a long moment, the Andorian tried to push the PADD with the release form underneath their clasped hands.
“Sorry, friend.” Jim pulled their clasped hands up to his chest. His free hand rested over Spock’s, trapping it in place. His thumb gently stroked over the knuckles. “Mr. Spock, how long until our check-in with the Enterprise?”
“One hour, fourteen minutes, and nine seconds,” said Spock.
“And how would you like to spend that time, Mr. Spock?” Jim stared at him through his lashes.
He squeezed Kirk’s hand. “In private consultation with my captain.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it?” Jim winked.
“No!” shouted Vrina. “We call it fucking.” The patients around her laughed heartily.
“It’s not too late to put him back where we found him.” Jim nodded at Pike. “I’m afraid of what’ll happen once the two of them are mobile and able to conspire together.”
“They shall run where angels fear to tread,” said Spock.
They watched Vrina tape a blowout noisemaker to Pike’s mouth. The bright red and gold streamers matched the party hat she’d tied on him at a jaunty angle. He caught Jim’s eye and winked.
Jim nodded back. Still smiling, he flipped open his communicator left handed. Spock squeezed his hand once more before folding his own behind his back. “Kirk to Enterprise. The Admiral is in good hands. Two to beam up.”
TEN WEEKS LATER
“It’s good to hear your voice, Chris!” Jim leaned back against Spock. There wasn’t room for them to sit side by side on the narrow Starfleet beds. Since Spock was taller, it was only logical for Jim to sit in front of him so they could both see the monitor.
Uhura’s bespoke message encoding gave the untraceable image a retro pixelated feel, but Pike still looked like he had real color in his skin again. One eye remained cloudy, but half his face had regained full motility while the more severely burned half now looked unnaturally smooth, like a child had erased all the features and was starting over.
“It’s good to have a voice!” The mobile half of his face broke out in a familiar, sunny grin. “Vrinda isn’t half as honest as Spock when telepathically translating for me.”
“Have you and Vrinda managed to get arrested yet?” Jim pulled Spock’s arm around his waist and gently stroked the back of a long fingered hand with his thumb.
Pike stared at their clasped hands, then up at Jim’s unnaturally innocent expression. “Go ahead and touch the camera,” he snorted. “It’ll draw less attention to your rings.”
“Oh, notice that, did you?” Jim looked down at the matching plain gold bands with a proud smile.
“Everyone could see this coming.” Pike rolled his good eye. “Vulcans don’t drag things out. I’ve seen them lock it down with someone they’ve known for a week.”
Spock’s free hand idly stroked a line over Jim’s upper arm. “My father waited twenty one days before proposing to my mother.”
Jim’s head craned around, “Wait, really?”
“He called it torture,” said Spock.
“What did your mother call it?” asked Pike.
“Premature,” said Spock. “She forced him to undertake human courtship rituals for a period of three months before she was willing to entertain the question again.”
Jim and Pike laughed, shaking their heads.
“How long did it take him to pop the question, Jim?” Pike beamed at them.
“The Captain proposed to me seventy six hours after we departed Omicron Ceti III,” said Spock.
They stared into the monitor, waiting for a reaction. After a long moment, Pike leaned forward, voice low and conspiratorial. “Does he call you Captain in bed?”
Kirk leaned back against Spock’s chest, grinning at Pike. “You’re not even going to pretend you’re surprised?”
Pike shrugged dramatically, showing off the newfound mobility in his shoulders. He was in a life support unit that more closely resembled a wheelchair, with both withered arms free. The fingers of one hand idly toyed with a starship shaped squeeze ball.
“I bet Uhura that you two would have a shotgun wedding after the first time you had sex,” said Pike. “I’d say I’m insulted you didn’t invite me - to the wedding, not the sex. I’m invited to enough of that.”
“Wait, really?” said Jim.
“I’m on a medical colony where our only job is healing,” Pike snorted. “There’s an orgy every Tuesday. Healer T’Ired says getting so many smart, ambitious people together in one place with nothing to do is the greatest mistake of her career. Our little Orion Project keeps us busy.”
“Do I want to know?” asked Jim.
“You don’t already?” Pike blinked in surprise. “In her off hours, Uhura chips in on our little pet project to replace an entire Orion ship with spies from different empires.”
Jim’s eyes widened. “How is that going?”
“As of yesterday, Nyota reports twenty six percent of the Black Hole’s crew is now a mix of Romulan, Klingon, Tellerite, Vulcan, and Human spies who all received assignments to infiltrate an Orion ship in order to gain intelligence.”
“We expect the Obsidian Order to sneak a couple agents on the ship in the next two weeks,” said Pike. “If we get spies from twelve different governments onto the ship then Healer T’Ired says we can replicate real bondage gear instead of the stuff we make during arts and crafts.”
“Do the spies know about one another?” asked Jim.
“Unknown,” said Spock. “None who are in communication with Nyota have reported the presence of rival agents.”
“Great bird. You’re in on it, too?” Kirk muttered. “Do I want to know how many spies Uhura has in her personal network?”
Spock stroked Jim’s hair. “No.”
“We all need hobbies,” said Pike. “It feels like all I do all day is read FleetNet and trashy spacedock newsies. Staffing a pirate ship with spies from every known intelligence agency is keeping me from losing my damn mind.”
“This is why the admiralty wanted to keep you in that box,” said Jim. “You’re too dangerous out of it.”
Pike laughed. “Speaking of Starfleet, tell Uhura I’m impressed at her ability to keep news of your wedding out of the press.”
“It wasn’t a wedding so much as a rushed document signing.” Jim tried to look nonchalant despite beaming up at Spock. “Not how I pictured it at all. I wanted to wait until we could have a proper ceremony.”
Spock stared into Pike’s eyes. “He did not.”
Pike shook his head, laughing.
Jim craned back to plant a soft kiss on Spock’s jaw. “We ended up on another one of those missions where the locals don’t consider you an adult unless you’re married. We needed to negotiate terms and sign contracts, so we filed for a subspace marriage license and replicated some rings and betrothal pendants. Commodore Kithari backdated the paperwork to make it legal. Once the local had the paperwork in hand they were incredibly cooperative. That was two and a half months ago.” He squeezed Spock’s hand. “So far, no one has asked us to annul it.”
“Wow. What a romantic,” Pike grinned.
“It was a logical course of action,” said Spock.
“So how long until the two of you make it FleetNet official?” asked Pike.
Jim and Spock locked eyes for a long moment.
“Uhura says her efforts to keep a lid on it won’t survive our next shore leave. Too many gossips on the crew,” said Jim.
“My parents will want to use a formal Vulcan ceremony coupled with a traditional human wedding as a diplomatic event.” Spock’s shoulders slumpled an entire centimeter.
“They could replace us with body doubles,” Jim rolled his eyes. “We’ll just be props.”
“That sounds miserable,” said Pike. “But you can use it to your advantage. Listen, kids. I owe you for getting me here.
“You do not,” said Spock.
Pike shook his head. “Let me help. I’m going to send you a little list of names with a few choice details about what people want, what people hate, and how far you can push them. Use it. Get the repairs and upgrades you need, shore leave for your people, and lock down as many details as you can for your next five year mission.”
“Next mission?” asked Spock.
“You boys are having way too much fun to take a desk job,” Pike laughed. “I’ll have Uhura put me in touch with Amanda, too. I can help her plan the Starfleet side of this upcoming spectacle.”
“We are legally wed,” said Spock. “There is no need for a further ceremony.”
“No one cares, Spock.” Pike nodded to himself, mental wheels clearly in motion. “You’re practically Vulcan royalty. Jim is third generation Starfleet. The two of you are the command team of the flagship. There is no way you’re getting away with signing legal papers and call it done.”
“I know,” Spock sighed.
“Don’t think of it as a wedding,” said Pike. “Treat it like an elaborate away mission with ritual costumes. You love a costume mission, Jim.”
Jim smiled softly at Spock. “You’re sure you don’t want a divorce?”
His arms tightened around Jim’s waist. “We will endure.”
“Okay, don’t put that in the vows,” said Pike. “You know what? I’ll write them for you. Uhura will help. People will weep. It’ll make all the feeds.”
“Do we have any say in this?” asked Jim.
“Only behind the scenes when you’re negotiating with the admiralty.” Pike’s face lit up with excitement. “It’s great to catch up, but I need to talk to Uhura before the signal degrades. You boys take care of one another. We’ll talk again soon.”
The screen went blank.
“What just happened?” Jim stared at Spock, wide eyed.
“His boredom may be the death of us,” Spock said gravely.
“You think there’s still room on that Orion pirate ship they’re staffing with spies?” asked Jim.
Spock stroked the back of his fingers over Jim’s cheek. “Perhaps we can revisit Mudd’s World and request android dopplegangers for us both.”
Jim lay a hand over the pendant he’d hand carved for Spock, resting just under his blue pajama top. “Anywhere with you.”
“You may regret that statement when my parents, Starfleet, and an excessively bored Christoper Pike construct a public spectacle allegedly celebrating our union.”
Jim brushed a soft kiss over Spock’s lips. “You’re worth it.”
“I will remind you of those words when they are fitting us for marital costumes.” Spock dragged the tip of his nose over the bridge of Jim’s.
Jim pulled him down to the bed. “The cat will be out of the bag on our next shore leave. Until then, let’s take advantage of the little privacy we have left.”