Chapter Text
Jim woke, feeling a little too warm, with a slight headache and a dry mouth. He almost felt hungover, but he couldn’t remember drinking anything. He rolled onto his side, his eyes still closed, wishing for a glass of water but not able to gather the fortitude to get up. As he waited for his mind to catch up with his body, he tried to recall what had happened the previous night that might have made him wake up feeling exhausted and mildly ill. He sensed movement beside him.
Oh, no. Absolutely— there’s no way. No possible way.
He was afraid to open his eyes. He felt certain he’d been on the ship, not shore leave or a starbase, so that would mean whoever was in bed with him was a crew member, which was completely unacceptable. And he was irritated by the fact that he seemed to have no recollection of drinking to excess or doing anything else untoward, so how had this happened? And if he had been intoxicated enough to forget the events that had let him here, who would have been willing to take advantage of that, or gotten intoxicated enough themselves that it seemed like a good idea? He tried to keep his breathing even, in the hope that he would appear to still be asleep while he desperately attempted to figure this out—
“Captain?” The voice made Jim’s eyes fly open, his face heating against his will.
“Spock?” Oh god. This was even worse than anticipated. How in the hell could—
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m—” It was about then that Jim was able to register that he was still in his uniform, and nearly wept with relief. “I have a bit of a headache, but I think I’m fine.” It was starting to come back now. He hadn’t been drinking, he hadn’t taken his first officer to bed with him… or rather, they seemed to be in a bed, but not for the reason he’d feared. The bed was clearly not his own. He closed his eyes again, pressing the heels of his palms into them as his memories rushed through his mind, fast and overwhelming as he tried to grab hold of something that would make it make sense. “We were on the bridge…”
“Helm and engine control gone… the ship was being pulled into orbit around Triona IV. We could not stop it…” Spock seemed uncharacteristically lost for words, his voice strained. “I apologise, Captain, I seem to be having trouble recalling the precise events.” Of course this distressed him; he generally prided himself on his flawless memory. Jim sat up. They were in a small room with a large window almost the size of the wall opposite the bed, looking out onto a forest path. There was a small table with two chairs near an adjacent wall, and a door in the back wall which appeared to lead to a tiny bathroom; Jim could see a sink and the edge of a toilet, next to it. Both he and Spock were fully clothed, boots and all, on top of a grey-blanketed double bed. Spock was lying on his back with one hand thrown over his eyes.
“Spock, are you all right?”
“I too find I have a headache. My shields… I am having to work significantly harder to maintain them. I believe there may be other telepaths nearby who perhaps do not make use of the techniques Vulcans employ to avoid constant exposure to each other’s thoughts and emotions.”
“Wait, so you think someone— someone’s done something to our minds? And that’s why we can’t remember clearly?”
Your memories have not been altered. It is a side effect of our transport procedure. They are already beginning to resurface. The rest will follow shortly. The unfamiliar voice seemed to echo all around them, almost as if it were made up of more than one being.
“Who said that?”
We are communicating with you mentally.
Jim turned to look at Spock, who had somewhat of a grimace on his face. Jim placed a hand on his shoulder. “And you seem to be hurting my friend, so I suggest you find another method of communication.”
He is attempting to block us from accessing his mind, but it is too much for him. That is what makes it painful.
“I think that’s his right, don’t you? A man’s mind should be his own unless he tells you otherwise.” Jim’s headache was fading, but now he was angry. “Who are you? Why have you brought us here? What have you done with my ship?” The reply did not come immediately.
Your vessel remains in orbit. We have disabled its capacity for movement but it and its inhabitants are otherwise unaffected. You will be alone for a short time while we attempt to find a new method of communication and attend to other matters. We will leave you some refreshments for sustenance.
“Now wait a minute—!” Jim’s protest fell off his tongue as he noticed a small hatch open in the wall next to the window, across from the table and chairs. It revealed a tray with water, what appeared to be an elaborate cheese plate, and a bottle of wine with two glasses. Jim let go of Spock and leapt from the bed, but the hatch closed almost as soon as the tray was slid inside, before his hand could reach it. Once it closed there was no trace of the opening in the wall. “What the fuck is— who captures people and holds them prisoner, and then gives them a— a deluxe plate of charcuterie and—” he looked at the label on the wine— “a twelve-year vintage of Côtes du Rhône?” But the presence had apparently vanished, true to their word; he was met with silence, alone in his mind again. Feeling helpless, he picked up the bottles of water and carried them back to the bed, passing one to Spock. “Here, maybe you’ll feel better if you have something to drink.”
“Thank you, Captain.” Spock had removed his hand from his face, and he sat up. “I am… improving. It appears my natural shielding abilities are inadequate against this form of telepathic energy.” He still sounded distressed, and Jim couldn’t blame him.
“Spock, it’s not a personal failing. I couldn’t even try to stop them.” He unstoppered his water, taking a few long sips, soothing to his parched mouth. Spock, nodding absently, opened his bottle but did not drink.
“I have not encountered beings of this type of power since…”
“...Talos IV,” Jim completed for him, deciding that it was all right to speak of it, since they were apparently alone and in any case, they were dealing with telepaths, who could retrieve this information from their minds easily were it of interest to them. His spine chilled a little at the idea. Spock nodded, and finally took a drink of his water.
“Yes. With such superior capabilities, it is doubtful we will escape on our own. If we are to be freed, it is to be on their terms.” He delivered this matter-of-factly, but Jim could sense his frustrations, which matched his own. He moved to sit at the edge of the bed, but it seemed inappropriate now. He went instead to the nearby table and sat down on one of the chairs.
“Any guesses as to why we may have been brought here?”
“I do not have enough information at this time to make even an initial speculation.”
“At least the ship is all right. If we can believe them.”
“There was no evidence of subterfuge,” Spock agreed. “But it would be better if we could make certain.”
“And since we were taken directly from the bridge, we can’t even try communicators or phasers. Not that I think they’d be of any use here even if we did have them.” Jim sighed again, and drank a little more of the water. He had no idea the amount of time that had passed since they were on the bridge, but it had been nearing lunch time before that. He put the water down and returned to the tray, picking it up from the floor and bringing it to the table. “Are you hungry? I think we can assume it’s safe to eat; if they wanted us dead or knocked out it’s clear they could do that without resorting to something so crude as drugging our food. And while I don’t imagine the fruit and nuts will do too badly, the cheese will be a lot less appetizing once it’s been sitting out for a couple of hours.”
Spock got up from the bed and sat down in the other chair, perhaps a bit more heavily than he might normally have done. “It seems there is little else for us to do at the moment, regardless.”
Despite everything, Jim chuckled. “Very human of you to admit to eating out of boredom, Mr Spock.”
“I was merely expressing my frustration at the lack of useful activities available to us. Such as procuring an exit out of this room.”
“Don’t worry, we’re on the same page.” Jim picked up a slice of baguette along with what seemed to be a piece of manchego, and plucked one of the grapes from its stem. He noticed there weren’t any meats on the platter. “Looks like they understand you’re a vegetarian, at least.”
“I’m certain they understand a great deal more than that,” Spock answered darkly, but he too began to pick at the plate of food, his expression changing as he sampled a roasted almond, as though pleasantly surprised. He was right, it wasn’t bad; the fruit was fresh and there was an interesting variety of cheeses— the replicators on the ship didn’t do so well in imitating the very aged ones, and Jim found himself both pleased and annoyed by the unexpected treat. He felt it would be wildly irresponsible to drink any of the wine, though he was curious where these aliens might have gotten such a thing.
A little while later, once they’d eaten enough and felt rehydrated, Spock was sitting on the edge of the bed again with his elbows on his knees and his hands folded together, middle and index fingers steepled in front of his mouth as he often did when he was deep in contemplation, or struggling with some internal problem. Jim, for his part, was unable to stay at rest. He’d used the bathroom more for something to do rather than any real need for it, and was now pacing between the bed and the window, pausing intermittently to run his hands over the wall where he’d seen the hatch open, trying to locate a crack or release button or something, but there was no trace of anything other than solid wall. Sighing, he slumped down with his back against the wall, scrubbing his hands over his face. He was weighing the costs and benefits of shouting himself hoarse trying to get the attention of their captors again, keeping quiet mostly because he didn’t want to disturb Spock’s thought process.
Jim caught sound and movement beside him, and quickly removed his hands from his face in time to see an even larger hatch slide open, feet stepping through into the room. Jim reached toward the opening, trying to crawl towards it, but was stopped from getting any closer by an invisible, though painless, force field. He recognised the boots on the floor next to him as Starfleet-issue, and looked up, scrambling to his feet. “Bones!”
“I’m all right, Jim; everyone on the ship is fine, just trapped in orbit with no weapons, no engines, and no transporters. You and Spock okay?” Jim was flooded with relief.
“Far as I can tell, yes. Spock had a bit of a rough time with it when we first arrived, but he says he’s all right now.” Jim looked over to the bed, where Spock was now getting to his feet and coming over to join them. “Did you just get here?”
“Not long ago, yes. I’d gone to the bridge after Uhura commed to let me know you and Spock had disappeared right there, and Scotty was coming up to take command. I’d only been there ten minutes or so and next thing I knew I was waking up down here.”
“Did it take you a few minutes to get your short-term memories back?”
“Yeah. Had a headache too, but it went away pretty quickly. And then there was this voice in my head… I didn’t like that one bit, and I didn’t mind telling them so, but they told me my services as a doctor were needed here. Apparently they don’t have enough medical knowledge to adequately examine humans. Or Vulcans,” his eyes moving in Spock’s direction.
Jim noticed he was holding his medical kit. “But Spock and I are fine… wait, you had that with you on the bridge?”
“No, but it sure as hell was here with me when I woke up. I don’t know who these people think they are, messing about with our minds, taking people hostage…”
A startling thought occurred to Jim. “Bones, is anyone else missing from the ship?”
Bones nodded. “Four others. Ensigns Brand and Holtzmann from engineering, along with Lieutenant Valdez, the biologist, and his wife Mariela— you know, one of my medical lab techs.”
“Have you seen them? Are they all right?”
“Yes, I was sent to see them first. They’re in rooms a lot like this one. I can’t figure this building out, it seems like I just show up at one room and then when I’m finished there I show up in the next one, I don’t know what’s—”
That is enough conversation, Doctor, please attend to your duty.
Dr McCoy’s face shifted into an irritated frown. “The Captain’s stress levels will only continue to increase if I don’t update him on the status of his ship and crew, you meddling sons of—”
“Bones, what duty? If no one’s injured or sick, why did they need you?”
He looked slightly uncomfortable, his eyebrows drawing together as he answered more quietly. “I was ordered to do a complete physical for all six of you. I tried to explain to them that Starfleet requires us to update that data every three months— hell, the Valdezes had theirs only two weeks ago— but they wouldn’t hear it.”
“I just had mine last month! Why would they need—”
Please proceed with your examinations, Doctor. We do not want to make this request a third time.
Bones sighed and opened his medical kit, taking out his supplies as slowly as could be considered reasonable. “I tried to refuse the first time, with Holtzmann and Brand, until they told us what the hell was going on here, but… well, they kind of forced my hand.”
“Did they hurt you, Doctor?” Spock spoke for the first time since the doctor’s arrival.
“Not as such, but I couldn’t fight them… it was like the only thing in my mind was that I needed to do that examination, I felt almost— panicked about it. The feeling went away once I started the scans on Holtzmann, and she agreed we should probably just get it over with, since they clearly wouldn’t let us do anything else until I did.”
Jim nodded, unsettled and afraid again. “Take care of Spock first, since—” he glanced at Spock, hesitant, but his first officer said nothing— “well, since he was more affected by whatever they did to bring us here. I’ll just… go in the head to give you some privacy.”
It was a testament to the gravity of the situation that Spock did not protest. Normally he had to be practically dragged kicking and screaming to sickbay for their regular physicals. Jim retreated to the bathroom, which created more the illusion of privacy than anything else, as the sliding door was almost as thin as cardboard, but it couldn’t be helped. He rested his hands on the countertop, sorting through his thoughts. He was concerned for the other officers, but if Bones said they were unhurt, he had no reason to worry about them at present. The more urgent issue was in discovering the purpose behind their abduction, so that they might determine a means of freeing themselves. At least Pedro and Mariela Valdez were together, rather than separated and each beside themselves with worry about their partner.
That was about the point when Jim remembered Brand and Holtzmann were also a couple; an offhand comment by Scotty about the closeness of the pair five or six months previously, and their formal fraternization paperwork showing up in Jim’s queue about two months after that. Jim was always happy to sign off on such requests, provided the officers in question were in good standing and not so far apart in rank that it could be considered a breach of conduct in Starfleet’s eyes. In Jim’s mind anyone who was able to find love on a starship should be able to count their blessings. He’d even had the privilege of officiating the Valdez wedding, his first year as Captain, though the two had been a couple before they were stationed on the Enterprise.
Focus, Jim. Why had two couples and the ship’s captain and first officer been taken? Why were they all separated? Who were these people? What could they want that they would need all six of them for? Was it merely a coincidence that they were couples? Holtzmann and Brand could be needed for their engineering skills, the Valdezes perhaps for their science and medical knowledge.
It is no coincidence, Captain Kirk.
Didn’t I request you find another way of communicating? I don’t want you doing any more damage to Spock! Jim responded angrily. This time, he chose to answer them in his mind; knowing that they weren’t actually ‘speaking’, he was suddenly self-conscious about seemingly conversing with himself in the bathroom.
We are currently in communication with you, alone. Regrettably, our species’ vocal cords are not capable of speaking in any language you would understand.
The first statement finally hit home in his brain. What do you mean, it isn’t a coincidence? You still haven’t told us why we’re here. I want answers!
Answers will be given. We will attempt to communicate with you and Commander Spock again once your physical examinations are complete.
God damn it, you can’t just—
You have sequestered yourself from your companion while he is with the doctor. Why?
Jim considered not answering, but after Bones’ tale of essentially having his free will manipulated, and Spock’s ominous comment that this planet’s inhabitants may know more about them than they were letting on, decided it likely wouldn’t accomplish anything. Our society values doctor-patient privilege, the right to personal privacy. Unless it will affect his ability to conduct himself as an officer of my ship, his medical results are none of my business.
The two of you are in the habit of keeping secrets from each other? The voice in his head seemed distinctly confused, possibly even concerned. And Jim, too, felt a bit perturbed by the implication.
He’s my closest friend, and an outstanding first officer. I trust him with my life. I’d tell him anything he asked, and I’m sure he’d be willing to do the same. But I respect his privacy. He’s allowed to choose what he wants me to know.
Most interesting.
Jim could sense the curiosity from the presence in his mind, but then suddenly it was gone again. He could hear the soft voices of Spock and Dr McCoy, and he turned the tap on, washing his face for no reason, trying not to listen. As he dried off with a towel helpfully waiting on a hook behind him, he heard a tap at the door. “Jim? Better get this done sooner rather than later.”
“All right, I’m coming.” He opened the door, briefly locking eyes with Spock as he pulled his science blues on over his black thermal undershirt, and they swapped places. Jim, for some reason, had to fight the urge within him to tell him he needn’t bother, but the door to the head slid closed behind him and Jim shook the feeling away. Thankfully, the examination couldn’t include any of the strength or endurance testing without the full array of the medical bay’s equipment, so it wasn’t long before McCoy was finished with the scanner and questions and mobile lab tests.
“Well, Jim, you’re in about the same shape as last month, no new allergies or infections or anything else to worry about. Your blood pressure’s up a bit, but I think we can safely say that’s due to being held prisoner by telepathic aliens.” He said the last part of the sentence rather more loudly, pointedly looking toward the wall where he’d entered the room. “Spock, you can come back out now.”
The door slid open as Jim pulled his shirt back over his head. Spock glanced at him for a moment but almost immediately turned his attention to McCoy. “Doctor, do you believe that we—”
Thank you for your assistance, Doctor McCoy. We have acquired copies of your test data and your services are complete. You will now be returned to your ship.
“Now just a damn minute!” Bones shouted, but he had no time to make his grievances known further, as he vanished before their eyes with a small pop.
For a few seconds Jim stared mutely at the empty space he had occupied. “Well, that’s that, I suppose,” he sighed. “What were you about to ask?”
“I was hoping the doctor, having seen them, might be able to confirm or deny my suspicion that the other officers who have been captured were brought here because of their relationship status, rather than for their particular skills,” Spock said.
“You’re correct, Spock, I had the same thought. The Trionans confirmed as much while you were getting your physical.”
“Fascinating. This does not shed further light on what their purpose may be in doing so, however. Nor why you and I are also apparently needed.”
“No,” Jim agreed. “Maybe they just thought it best that the ship’s most senior officers be in no position to attempt to rescue their missing officers.”
“That may be,” Spock said thoughtfully. “I will consider the matter further.”
That will not be necessary, Commander Spock.
Jim’s gaze was drawn automatically to check on Spock, but he didn’t seem as badly off as he had initially. “I’m all right, Captain, I have relinquished some of my shielding for the time being so that I will not be affected further. It is… slightly overwhelming, but I am unharmed.”
Jim hated that Spock was being forced to do this, and he was dubious he was as unharmed as he said, but they didn’t seem to have a lot of alternatives. He wanted to comfort him, but without his mental walls to protect himself from the mess of Jim’s human mind, he knew better than to touch Spock at the moment. “Are you going to tell us why we’re here, now?”
Yes, Captain Kirk. You and your officers have been brought here to assist us in expanding our library.
“A— a library?” Jim almost laughed. “You could have just asked. We’d happily share almost any of our ship’s database of cultural and referential materials as a show of goodwill from the Federation. Our computers store a large collection of literature, philosophy, science… many other texts on just about any subject you can imagine.”
Those are not the types of materials we seek.
“What other materials could constitute a library?”
We are creating a databank consisting of a variety of species in an assortment of combinations while engaged in the act of mating. Our species reproduces and shows affection by other means, and we find this subject interesting and educational. We have learned, over time, that for those involved it is preferable if they have already established a relationship of this nature. I believe you might refer to the concepts as ‘love’ and ‘attraction’. Once we have gathered an acceptable amount of data, you and your officers will be returned to your ship, which will then be permitted to leave orbit.
Jim was momentarily speechless, and he and Spock looked at each other, Spock appearing equally taken aback. They’d been brought here to help some aliens create their own personal library of pornography? Finally Jim managed to croak out a ragged “What?”
Your thoughts indicate that you do not need further explanation and are merely surprised by this new knowledge. We will give you a moment to process it.
“Actually, I would like clarification as to why the Captain and I may not be permitted to return to our ship immediately. For what purpose is our presence required for this… acquisition of materials?” Spock asked delicately.
You and Captain Kirk share the strongest connection of all the mated pairs on your ship. We have seen it in your minds. This was stated as though it were completely obvious, in a way that implied they were now wondering if Spock and Jim were, despite evidence to the contrary, simpletons.
“But we aren’t a… a mated pair,” Jim said, his face uncomfortably hot, beside himself with embarrassment as he repeated it. “As I said, he's my first officer, and we’re good friends. I— well, won’t deny we have a strong connection, but it’s because of those things. We— aren’t together in the same way as the others.”
“Captain Kirk is correct. I must also point out that due to the limitations of our respective races’ genders and reproductive systems, it is not possible for he and I to mate in any traditional way normally intended to produce offspring.” Jim stole a sidelong glance at Spock, who spoke in his usual tone, but he also appeared to have some colour in his face.
The results of reproductive processes are not a concern. We are interested in the variances of the physical act between those who find great value in one another. It was assumed the term ‘mating’ would be familiar to most species. ‘Sexual intercourse’ is perhaps another term you would understand? They were now communicating as if Jim and Spock were truly children: naïve and ignorant, but endeared to them in some way.
“Oh, for the love of— yes, of course we’re familiar with the fact that there are many iterations of sex,” Jim said impatiently. “But Spock and I aren’t…” He couldn’t finish the thought, couldn’t look at Spock; he would surely die on the spot.
You claim that the two of you are not involved in any relationship wherein you engage in romantic behaviour, or sexual activity?
“Yes, that’s what we’ve been telling you,” Jim said, his frustration now reaching the same intensity as his discomfort.
Please allow us a moment to communicate amongst ourselves. Perhaps we have made an error.
“Please do,” Jim said irritably, as he clung to the hope that this might end soon, that they’d say it was all a misunderstanding and return them to the Enterprise, where he could retreat to his quarters, pour three fingers of brandy, turn on the water shower, and quietly go about drowning himself. Spock, beside him, stared straight ahead. Jim stepped slightly away, knowing his own proximity was probably disruptive to his thought process with his shielding so relaxed. Jim wished the Trionans could just talk to them so Spock could be his usual self again. Or, well, if they were wishing for things, he actually wished they weren’t communicating with the Trionans at all.
“Captain…” Spock began.
“Don’t worry, Spock, we’ll— we’re going to get out of this. It seems like it’s just a simple misunderstanding. Cultural differences and whatnot.”
Spock nodded absently. “Yes.”
“Are you doing all right?” Jim asked, softening his voice. “I know it can’t be easy for you to be without your proper shielding for so long.”
“I am managing adequately. It is easier with only you here,” he answered, pausing briefly before he made an addendum. “If there were more people in close proximity than just ourselves, it would be much more difficult to maintain my thought processes amid the transference of their assorted emotions.”
Jim nodded. “Of course.” It wasn’t about Jim specifically, just the fact Spock was relieved to only have to contend with one emotional human rather than many. “Well, hopefully it’ll be over soon.”
Captain Kirk. Commander Spock.
“Oh, good, that was faster than expected,” Jim said. “Are you ready to send us home now?”
No.
“No?” Jim repeated.
There has been no error in our perception. Even our most experienced elders, who have witnessed and studied a great number of mating partnerships, have agreed that the two of you share an unparalleled bond, the likes of which they have seen with very few others. It is believed you will both benefit greatly from the acceptance of this connection.
“So— what, you’re just going to keep us here until we…” Jim fought against his anger; he couldn’t say it, not in front of Spock. He decided to try logic. The Trionans were apparently in the habit of capturing and somehow recording multitudes of different people having sex, but they seemed to have their own code of ethics about it. The food and the wine they’d sent, for instance: it now felt as though they might have learned something about what sorts of meals might be considered romantic, and sent it along for their enjoyment as well as sustenance. They’d also implied they’d been doing this… library building for a long time, and that once they understood the reasons their subjects objected, made alterations: focusing on established couples or triads or other people who loved and cared for one another, making sure everyone was healthy and relatively comfortable (it occurred to him suddenly that the reason he felt a little warm was likely that they'd compromised on a temperature between his preference and Spock's). It wasn’t exactly good, but it showed that overall, they wanted to achieve their objectives without causing actual lasting damage.
“You won’t force us into it. Even though you could,” Jim continued. “You forced the doctor’s hand in order to complete a medical examination, but you didn’t like to affect his free will, and only did so because it couldn’t cause real harm to him or anyone else. But you don’t want to take away the capacity for choice in something as important as a physical act of love. So what if we just refuse?”
We will not force you. It is not our way. There was a defensiveness in the response. We have simply provided you with anything you may require. You currently have no other obligations to attend to. You have been examined medically so that you may know it is safe to engage in any form of sexual contact you wish. You will find an assortment of supplies for this purpose in a compartment within the wall beside the bed.
“And as I just said, that’s irrelevant, because we’ve explained that we aren’t— that we don’t—”
Please assist us in further understanding the nature of your relationship. The patronising edge to this communication was back. You deny the fact that you find comfort and support in one another?
Jim felt as if he were being led into a trap. “Well, no, I didn’t say that exactly…”
And you, Mr Spock?
“The Captain is indeed an honoured friend whom I trust implicitly. He understands me better than most,” Spock answered. Jim couldn’t help feeling a bit pleased, but of course they understood each other. It was what made them such an efficient team.
So you both agree that you have a level of trust and loyalty that you do not share with the others on your ship?
“Now, that’s not fair,” Jim protested. “I’d lay my life on the line for— for anyone on my crew. We have to trust each other. A starship runs on loyalty.” He remembered those words in Spock’s mouth, before Daystrom’s M-5 computer had almost resulted in the destruction of the Lexington as well as the Enterprise, when Jim had thought himself frustratingly useless and pathetic. Spock always seemed to know the right thing to say when Jim was feeling his lowest. And while it was true that Jim valued all his crew member’s lives and would do anything he could to try to help them if they were in danger, was it true he trusted them all equally, would risk his own life as unthinkingly as he would for Spock? No, a small voice in his head answered, and he hoped it was too small for the Trionans to hear.
But you still put the lives of one another before the lives of others.
Damn it. So much for that. To Jim’s surprise, Spock replied first. “As first officer, my obligation is to the Captain above all, unless his interests are in conflict with the continued safety and operation of the Enterprise. As a Vulcan, any loss of life is greatly regrettable, and we do all we can to avoid it, but the Captain is arguably the least expendable crew member.”
This was unexpectedly flattering, even though Spock had in fact uttered similar statements before. But those had usually been in arguments over who was going to put himself at risk, with Spock trying to keep him safe and vice versa. It wasn’t something Spock went around telling people. “And Mr Spock is the best first officer in the fleet,” Jim said. “I admit that I consider him a great asset, and I doubt I would find another second-in-command to be his equal. So then of course I would go out of my way, if necessary, to protect him.”
Perhaps we have underestimated the importance of your commitment to your ship.
“Many people do,” Jim said with satisfaction. Now they were getting somewhere.
But this does not explain why you choose to deny the powerful connection we see in your minds. Are we to then assume it is a matter of attraction? Perhaps you do not feel attraction to those whose gender is so similar to your own?
Jim frowned uncomfortably. It was true that he tended to prefer women, and it was often easier to be with them, certainly, but he wasn’t only attracted to women. Spock had on several occasions witnessed Jim break out the charm for mission purposes, if it seemed like it’d be faster and less messy than other means, so it was hardly any big secret. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I consider myself capable of attraction and… affection with any gender.”
Spock said nothing, but apparently the Trionans weren’t going to let him get away with it.
And you, Mr Spock?
“I fail to see why I must answer, as you can clearly locate the answer you seek within my mind.” For the first time, he seemed distinctly put out. Spock didn’t often speak of such personal matters. He didn’t begrudge him this, of course, but it would be nice if he would occasionally open up a little, even if only to avoid events like the time Jim had unknowingly introduced his first officer to his own parents.
We are giving you the opportunity to share this information with Captain Kirk yourself.
“I believe Captain Kirk is aware enough of my preferences,” he said curtly. This was a half-truth; Spock had never explicitly said as much, but he’d never shown interest in women of his own free will and was unbothered by his fellow crew members’ good-natured jokes about it. However, he’d never seen him particularly interested in anyone else, either, aside from fleeting little attractions, so he’d assumed two things.
Firstly, that as a Vulcan, Spock’s desires were less intense (outside of pon farr, which had not been spoken of since) than humans’, or at least more manageable, due to Vulcans’ favouring of logic over emotionalism. And secondly, that Spock was much like Jim himself in that he was committed first to his work, though simply less willing to engage in something casual, as Jim would occasionally do on shore leave or starbase dockings when he was feeling particularly amorous or lonely. And maybe Spock was onto something there, because while these affairs were usually satisfying at the time, they sometimes turned sour, and instead of being a lovely opportunity to connect with someone beautiful and intriguing, rather served as a reminder of the man he could never really be, as his captaincy always came first. But he and Spock didn’t talk often of such things, and suddenly Jim wondered why that was, when he found it so easy to speak of them with Bones.
If that is the case, then we have possibly misunderstood the type of attraction that is necessary to feel desire toward one another. We must assume you therefore do not find one another to be physically appealing.
“Now that’s…” Jim felt even more awkward, because Spock was, objectively, very attractive. He didn’t want Spock to be hurt if Jim were to agree, to believe incorrectly that he found him to be plain or ugly, or worse, that he had written him off entirely because he was Vulcan. “I know you can see in my mind that I believe Spock is good-looking. It’s clear even among other Vulcans he would be considered quite handsome.” He couldn’t help looking over at Spock when he said this, and even gave him a small, private smile. “They must hate that about you.” He knew of how Spock was regarded by certain other Vulcans, and he could not forgive them for it. So it brought Jim a certain amount of satisfaction to know that Spock’s formidable intelligence and good looks were likely a source of envy for those who believed his human parentage made him genetically inferior.
Spock seemed slightly surprised, but pleased, the way he did when Jim complimented him on his quick work in solving a problem, or teased him over his unemotional response to something. “Thank you, Captain. And it can hardly go unnoticed that you yourself are physically attractive, even compared to other humans of your age, gender, and athleticism.”
This admission, in his scientific way, of the fact that Spock thought Jim to be objectively better-looking than many other humans was oddly affecting, and Jim found himself blushing again. “That’s— very kind of you, Mr Spock.” This was getting ridiculous. Jim pressed on, feeling they were potentially making some progress with the Trionans. “Look, we aren’t teenagers, surely people can admit they find someone attractive without needing to necessarily act on that attraction?”
We appreciate you sharing this information in order to help us gain further understanding of the differences that exist in interpersonal relationships.
Jim huffed out a small sound of relief. It sounded like this interrogation had finally come to an end. “Happy to help,” he said ironically. “May I assume now we’ll be returned to the Enterprise?”
A pause. No.
“Did you not say that—” Spock’s query gets cut off.
We stand by our original conclusions. You both would greatly benefit from deepening the already existing connection between your minds. However, you are correct that we will not force you. If, after forty-eight of your ship’s hours, your colleagues have provided us with their own versions of the reference material we seek, and you have not, you will be permitted to return to your vessel unharmed. As a kindness, we will include in this the two point four hours which have already elapsed since you were transported here.
“Forty-five point five six hours remain,” Spock said, almost automatically.
“Two days is a long time to wait with only a bottle of wine and a few olives for entertainment,” Jim pointed out. “Couldn’t you send us some books or a chess set? Even a deck of cards?”
We will discuss it amongst ourselves, but as that would likely be counterproductive to our objective, we encourage you not to get your hopes up. Further food and beverages will be provided as needed.
Finally, the mental presence retreated, and somehow Jim knew they wouldn’t be back for awhile. “Well, Mr Spock, it seems we have some time to kill.” He was determined not to address any aspect of their conversation with the Trionans unless Spock brought it up first. It was embarrassing enough for him, he couldn’t imagine what it was like for Spock. “Know any games we might play with only our minds?” It was meant as a joke, but Spock looked serious.
“I apologise, Captain, but I require meditation in order to restore my shields.”
“Oh, yes, I— forgive me.” Now he felt guilty that not only had they been forced to answer all those invasive questions, but that Spock had been doing so while, presumably, suffering in other ways.
“There is no need to feel guilty, Jim. It is not up to you to monitor my mental state,” Spock said gently, and the use of his first name made Jim smile. “I assure you I am all right. I merely need time to myself so that I may interact with you again more easily.”
Jim nodded. “Of course.” With one last look, Spock stepped away toward the centre of the room and arranged himself on his knees on the floor, his hands resting on his thighs. Jim, for lack of anything else to do, went to the table to uncork the bottle of wine and pour himself a small glass. He turned his chair so that he could lean against the wall. He wasn’t watching Spock, not really, but having him in his line of sight felt better than doing otherwise. Idly he swirled the glass of wine and brought it to his nose, taking in its peppery scent. He took a sip, absolutely furious as he realised it was one of the finest he’d tasted in years.