From Ritual by JS Cavalcante

He left the phaser room and headed for the nearest turbolift. There was one more person to see to and, coincidentally, it was the one person Kirk needed to see. The one who wouldn’t try to tell him what to feel, or what to do, or how to be. The one who would look at him with complete acceptance in level dark eyes and simply be with him, equally willing to hear him speak or let him be silent.

It was late, but Spock would no doubt still be at work, probably in his office in Science section. "Deck two," Kirk told the turbolift, surprised at the weary sound in his voice.

But Spock wasn’t there. His office was dark, and the duty officer in Astrophysics next door said she hadn’t seen him all day.

Odd. Kirk had thought Spock had gone right back on duty after being discharged from sickbay. As he headed back to the turbolift, Kirk considered. Perhaps Spock was in the main computer room, inspecting for damage. But a quick call down there proved equally fruitless. Kirk hit the wall switch again. "Computer, locate Mr. Spock."

Of course, the computer couldn’t actually do that; only someone with access to the intraship sensors could, but the computer could yield information it had been given.

"Mr. Spock logged off duty at 0800 hours," the soft, mechanical voice answered.

"How long is he logged off for?"

"Thirty-six hours."

"Thirty-six?"

"Thirty-six hours."

He could ask the computer a hundred times if he wanted to, and it would reply tirelessly every time. And it would still give the same incredible answer.

Spock had taken a day off.

More than a day. Spock, who never took shore leave, who couldn’t be persuaded to stay in a sickbay bed unless he was near death—and sometimes not even then—Spock, who had so much leave accrued that he could take a year’s sabbatical if he wished, but who never would…Spock had voluntarily gone off duty when he was able-bodied and well.

BACK TO TOP

From Debriefing by Katherine Cooke

"I’d like you to start your story when we next meet in two days. For the rest of this session, perhaps you could tell me a little about how you have been since it happened."

He shifted in the seat and looked away. His breathing rate altered. After a pause he looked at me again with that endearing smile. "There hasn’t been much time to think things through. I gave an official report for Starfleet, and we were ordered straight here from Xon. It’s only two days away."

"At warp eight."

He laughed. "You’re well-informed. Maybe you know my story already—and we could stop here and go home?"

"In a little while. I’m wondering how things were on the Enterprise between the command crew on that two-day trip?" That sobered him.

He looked directly at me. "Commander Spock was in sickbay and I was on the bridge. I spoke with Dr. McCoy on two occasions. We conferred on the report."

Again, that feeling of challenge. This man had a very powerful personality. He was daring me to dig further.

"I would guess the adjustment to being back on the Enterprise was difficult?"

"It was a relief to be home, but you’re right, I felt…confused, dislocated. Bones—Dr. McCoy—said something similar. Xon wasn’t just another world but another time and the atmosphere of that other place was so unique, savage and yet beautiful in its own way, and hard to shake off. Almost as if we’d been different people when we were there and, coming home, had to change back again. Six months of my life…."

"I notice you call the Enterprise ‘home.’ Does it still feel like home?"

He sighed, and I began to glimpse the shadows he was hiding. "There hasn’t been enough time to find out," he said quietly, and looked up without disguise. "I need time."

"Yes."

I gave him that, on the first day and in the sessions which followed, time to recognise the horror of what he and his friends had endured, time to grieve and begin to piece things back together. And I came to know him as a man moved by the highest impulses and hurt yet tempered by the suffering he’d experienced.

BACK TO TOP

From Hour of Freedom by Vanasati

I come to, my neck and shoulder hurting like hell. I moan softly and rub the pain, then sit up. A wave of dizziness sweeps over me and I flinch. When I steady my gaze, it falls on a man sitting next to me. He's watching me with caution, his whole posture at attention.

I hold my hands up in front of me in the gesture of surrender, trying to show him that I mean no threat. In response his body relaxes somewhat.

"Who are you?"

His voice is deep and calm. But his question upsets me a great deal. I don't know, dammit. I feel my stomach churn and I clench my hands into fists.

"Who are you?" I hiss through clenched teeth.

An eyebrow lifts. "I am the maker of this fire. You are the one who hid behind that bush. Did you intend to cause me harm?"

I look down at my hands and deliberately open the clenched fists. Then I hold one hand out for him to see my palm, empty and vulnerable.

"No. I was just being careful. I didn't know if you'd welcome a visitor."

"Logical."

I snort. "How did you know I was there?"

"I heard you."

My eyes lock onto his ears, and I can't suppress a gasp as I notice for the first time that they are pointed. Involuntarily my hands move to my own ears. Unlike his, mine are rounded and somewhat smaller.

He notices my gesture and frowns.

"You are not like me," I say sheepishly.

"Obviously."

That makes me smile. He cocks his head inquiringly and then he asks again, "Who are you?"

I swallow. Telling him means giving a stranger an advantage over me. At least I can't remember knowing him.

He's waiting for an answer, just looking at me without any sign of impatience, solely focused on me.

We stare at each other. He must see the confusion on my face because his stern features soften. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." I take a deep breath. "I can't tell you who I am. I don't know."

The look of consternation on his face is instantly replaced with a blank mask, but not before I've seen it.

BACK TO TOP

From To End is to Make a Beginning by Rosemarie Heaton

"Hey, look where you're going, can't you?" a laughing voice complained.

"I apologise. I was not expecting…."

"Not to worry. It was as much my fault as yours."

The voice was soft and Spock looked at its owner. Staring at him was a light-haired human of average height. The Vulcan shifted under the intent regard and barely heard another voice mutter, "Looks like we can forget including Jim in tonight's game. He's found something else to play with."

The young man smiled. "Ignore them," he advised. "You must be the new assistant science officer?"

Spock nodded and the other continued, "I'm Jim Kirk. Welcome aboard, Lieutenant."

The Vulcan raised his hand in greeting. "I am Spock," he said. "Live long and prosper, Jim Kirk."

"Pleased to meet you," Kirk said, his smile widening. To Spock's relief he made no attempt to shake hands. "Were you going to the mess?"

"That was my intention."

Kirk glanced down the corridor and Spock realised that although he could still hear them the rest of the group had moved on. The human returned his gaze to the Vulcan and said, "I haven't eaten yet."

"Then perhaps we could eat our meal together," Spock answered.

Kirk's reply took the form of a full-scale grin.

BACK TO TOP

From Lending a Hand by Dana Austin Marsh

One thing was certain: whatever had started between the two men that night in the observation room hadn't had a snowball's chance on Vulcan of progressing any further in the past sixty days. What pure, dumb, rotten luck that the two of them had made their declarations the very evening the first wave of the flu had hit. If they had managed to steal more than five minutes together in all that time, then they were both magicians. Either man might justifiably be credited with the occasional miracle, but neither one, Uhura knew for a fact, would neglect his duty for even one minute while such a state of crisis existed.

BACK TO TOP

From the Mouth of a Predator by kira-nerys

"Look at me," A'sharon said, and Kirk reluctantly turned his gaze from Spock to her. She smiled. "You do know what I want, don't you?" His eyes were glued to A'sharon's.

"Answer me!" she ordered, and Kirk knew that he didn't have a choice.

"Yes, I know."

A'sharon's smile grew wider. "Tell us—tell him—what it is I want you to do, Captain Kirk. I can see that you know exactly what I am talking about. Tell your cold, unemotional Vulcan what you will have to do to him in order to save both your lives."

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't utter them.

"Oh no," A'sharon tsk-ed, and her facial expression grew even more satisfied. "Your hesitation will cost you. You will both have to do it, or I will not let you go. That will make this so much more interesting. We will see what truth there is to the rumor of the Vulcan seven-year cycle."

Kirk could see the tension in Spock's body as he finally suspected what was going to take place.

"Perhaps this is the one time in your illustrious career that your Vulcan first officer will not come through for you, Kirk?"

If there had been doubts before, they were gone now. He knew what A'sharon expected from them.

"There is no need to explain further, Captain," Spock said. "I have heard of this pirate ritual."

"Oh, but I disagree, Mr. Spock," A'sharon protested as her eyes wandered from Kirk to Spock and back again. "I will take as much pleasure from this as I possibly can, and you will not ruin it for me. Neither of you." She moved away from them and sat in her chair before she continued to speak. "I want to hear Captain Kirk say it. Tell him!" Her eyes darkened. The guards stepped closer.

"Tell him, or I will order my warriors to kill the Vulcan where he stands."

"Very well, Captain. Do as she wishes. Tell me what it is you must do," Spock said calmly.

Even before the guard moved, Kirk knew what the result of Spock's approving words would be. He wished that Spock had stayed quiet, but as always, the Vulcan's first concern was for his captain.

The Klingon's fist against the side of his face was so forceful it brought Spock to his knees. Still, he accepted the blow without a sound leaving his lips, but a trickle of dark green blood ran down the squared chin. Kirk knew that if the Klingon had aimed his violence at him instead, he would have passed out. Spock only closed his eyes for a moment and then the dark gaze met Kirk's as Spock waited to hear the words, and silently, the Vulcan got to his feet.

Kirk cleared his throat. He knew A'sharon's patience was definitely wearing thin. "If we're going to get out of here, I'll have to use you…" Kirk halted, but forced himself to keep looking at his friend, "…to use you—sexually."

"Not good enough," A'sharon said. "Spell it out. I want to hear you say it."

"Damn it!" Kirk shouted. "Isn't it enough that we'll have to do it? Do I have to talk about it as well?"

"Ah, yes, Captain Kirk," A'sharon said. She didn't laugh, she didn't even smile as she walked toward him. She did not speak until she was close enough for him to detect the unmistakable scent of a Klingon. Maybe their smell was why he disliked them so much? A'sharon smelled sweet, dirty, and sickening.

"I wish to know if the rumors are true. Do Captain Kirk and his Mister Spock spend their nights together, mating like a pair of targs in heat?"

BACK TO TOP

From A Midsummers Night's Dream by Greywolf the Wanderer

We had been there just over a week when my whole life changed in a single night.

Jim had stayed out late that evening, as had the doctor. I'd read for a while, meditated, and finally gone to bed just before midnight. I had been slightly disappointed by Jim's absence, but not surprised. My captain was and is a man of strong appetites, on those occasions when he permits himself to indulge.

I'm not sure what time it was when I awakened. I think that I really was dreaming, at first. I still don't know exactly when it stopped being a dream and started being real.

Gentle hands started stroking down my back. Cool hands, clever hands, reaching up under my shirt, petting and caressing me. Ah, so good….

I stretched and began to purr.

I think that I was still dreaming here, but I cannot be certain.

Cool, soft lips brushed against the back of my neck. Another body slid carefully in behind me, until we lay nestled together. I could smell the Saurian brandy he'd been drinking earlier, a sweet, heavy overlay atop his familiar scent. Warm breath huffed in my ear, then Jim whispered, "Please, Spock, let me touch you. I have to touch you, I can't resist this any longer."

I froze, full of mingled shock and delight, unable to find words. Instead I turned my head and nuzzled at the side of his neck, feeling very daring and wicked—and hungry. He sighed happily and pulled me more firmly into his arms. I closed my eyes, threw caution and Vulcan propriety to the wind, and let him do as he wished.

BACK TO TOP

From Whatever Thou Wouldst Crave by Islaofhope

Sarek's answer was another question. "How long do you intend to stay aboard the Enterprise, serving as first officer?"

He gripped the railing in front of the viewport and absentmindedly identified a barely visible star system before he offered Sarek the complete truth. "Shortly after you last visited the Enterprise, I told Captain Kirk that I would remain here as his first officer as long as he would have me."

Sarek put his joined fingers to his lips. "Are you saying that I must ask James Kirk how long he intends to stay in command of the Enterprise?"

"If you wish to know how long I intend to stay as first officer of the Enterprise." Spock allowed his grip on the railing to relax somewhat.

Sarek cleared his throat and looked sideways at his son. "A man like James Kirk will not long stay a starship captain. There is talk that he will be promoted to the Starfleet Admiralty at the end of this five-year mission."

Before he turned to study his father, Spock suppressed a shiver, in spite of the fact that Jim had raised the temperature in the observation lounge to be closer to the Vulcan norm.

Why would the Vulcan ambassador concern himself with Starfleet politics? To what end? Rather than ask this question, Spock offered a quiet comment. "He has made a name for himself despite his youth."

Sarek nodded. "Perhaps when he is promoted, you will come home to Vulcan. You will marry and take your expected place in our society and at the VSA."

Spock closed his eyes to shut out his father's calm face. If he were human, he would have put a hand to the base of his neck and massaged away the tension, but Vulcans are not subject to headaches. His voice was surprisingly calm when next he addressed his father. "You said it yourself, Ambassador. James Kirk and I are t'hy'la."

Sarek tucked his hands into the sleeves of his dark Vulcan robes and gazed out at the stars. "What of it? Your wife will accept this. It is not common, but it is far from unknown."

BACK TO TOP