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Chapter Text

“It has truly been an honor,” the Irathian ambassador said.

The man’s gold and purple robes fluttered around him as he bowed from the waist, hands clasped tightly together above his head. Spock knew that it was a sign of genuine respect and admiration in the Irathian culture, so he nodded his thanks and returned the gesture. It would have been difficult to replicate the enthusiasm of his host, but considering the ambassador’s positive reaction, Spock thought he had performed well enough.

Lieutenant Uhura and Ensign Ricco followed his example, the two of them standing a step behind Spock as they made their farewells.

“The honor was mine, Ambassador Gurult,” Spock said. “The last few weeks on Irath have been enlightening. The Federation has gained a valuable ally today.”

“Yes, I couldn’t agree more,” the man raised his head and grinned, his thick blonde side-whiskers quivering with the motion. “We have learned much from our new friends today, and we hope to learn much more in the future. And I hope that you’ve enjoyed touring our labs? I know that you expressed great interest in the genetic research we conduct here.”

“Truly, I have seen nothing else like it,” Spock commented. He tucked his arms behind his back as he looked out over the city’s silver landscape with the ambassador. “Your genetic research programs are fascinating, and your dedication to the preservation of unique and endangered species is admirable.”

“We Irathians feel that it is our moral duty,” Gurult said proudly as he placed a hand over his heart. “As a species that once faced annihilation, we’ve made it our duty to aid all others from suffering that terrible fate.”

“That’s beautifully altruistic, Ambassador,” Uhura said brightly as she smiled at Gurult. “I’ve learned so much during our time here, it feels like I would need another month to truly appreciate all the wonders Irath has to offer.”

“My dear, I have lived here my whole life, and yet I still find new wonders every day,” Gurult said with a full-bellied laugh.

Spock nodded at Uhura with appreciation. The last few weeks had been difficult for the Vulcan. Irathians, though capable of brilliant scientific achievement, were a people who highly valued expressing their emotions freely.

The Enterprise had embarked on this current mission too soon after an unfortunate skirmish with the Romulans, and though normally there would have sent a greater representation of their crew, the majority of the ship’s senior staff were busy performing necessary repairs before their scheduled departure.

For any other diplomatic mission, Spock would have stayed on the ship in place of Captain Kirk, but the Irathians had specifically requested that they send their best scientific mind. Despite his initial reluctance, and as the captain was always pleased to remind him, no one could fill that request better than their resident Vulcan.

And so, Spock had accompanied the delegation to welcome Irath into the Federation. By Irathian design, the signing would take place during their high holidays, a three-week-long affair that the locals insisted they partake in. Spock had been hesitant to agree to so long a delay, but Kirk had interfered, insisting that the more time they had to finish their repairs, the better.

So, with a stifled sigh of exasperation, and the company of two junior officers, Spock had attended the many, many Irathian ceremonies and festivities. It was fortunate that the Captain and several of the other senior officers had been allowed to beam down for the main signing ceremony as Kirk’s presence was often a pleasant distraction from the tedium of diplomacy, even with a people as intelligent and curious as their hosts.

“One last thing before we see you off, Commander Spock,” Ambassador Gurult said quickly, his black eyes darting to the side before he shifted closer. Spock fought the urge to lean back, the other man’s mental and emotional energy was very loud compared to humans. A surprising and unpleasant discovery the Vulcan had made during the first day of negotiations. “I trust you remember that delightful conversation we had during the Signing Ceremony in the Hall of Mattheirus?”

“Yes, I do recall, Ambassador,” Spock said, hands clasped tightly behind his back, reminding himself not to move. “It was an enlightening conversation.”

“Yes, the comparisons between Vulcans and Irathians were most enlightening,” Gurult agreed enthusiastically. “But I was referring to the conversation about your unique situation. Your genetics, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Spock paused for a moment and focused on his breathing before answering.

“Yes, Ambassador,” Spock said, stilted even to his own ears. “The Irathian Institute of Genealogy has followed up on the matter extensively during our stay here.”

“Yes, yes, they are rather tenacious, but also the most gifted of our scientific minds,” Gurult boasted. “And the Institute, nay, all the people of Irath, were so appreciative to you and the Federation for respecting our most holy of holidays, and for participating most enthusiastically, that we were quite concerned we would never be able to find a gift of equal value.”

“Ambassador, such a gift is hardly necessary,” Spock began to protest, but the Irathian’s hand on his shoulder cut him off.

“No, no, not necessary perhaps,” Gurult said, though Spock doubted they were in true agreement. “But as I said before, your situation is so unique, and it is a moral imperative to ensure the continuation of all species, to preserve the magnificent diversity of the universe.”

“I--“ Spock opened his mouth, then reconsidered and closed it. He sincerely hoped that the ambassador was not implying…

“And so, there was only one gift we could reasonably give,” Gurult finished. He flipped the golden sleeve of his robe over his wrist with a flourish, and Spock noticed the small crowd of brightly uniformed Institute scientists walking toward them over the ambassador’s shoulder. “Please accept our humble offering, Commander Spock. And, as your people would say, live long and prosper.”

“…my thanks,” Spock said softly as he caught sight of the small orange pod hovering between the proud geneticists. They gently prodded their gift toward Spock, and the incubator halted a few feet away from him, the contents clearly visible to the outside observer.

The gasps behind him confirmed his suspicions, and Spock slowly closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reached for his communicator.

“Spock to Enterprise,” he said, his voice utterly flat and emotionless. “Four to beam up.”

“What is this, a joke?”

“I never joke,” Spock said, his voice deep with tightly restrained exasperation.

“Yes, I know, Spock,” McCoy said gruffly. He bounced on his heels once, then twice, before his eyes darted over to the incubator glowing ominously in the corner of Medbay. “But you have to admit this is pretty unbelievable. Even for us. The Irathians gifted you a clone? Because you’re one-of-a-kind?”

Spock stiffened, fingers digging into the palms of his hands as he stared over the doctor’s shoulder.

“The ambassador made it quite clear that they considered it their…moral imperative,” Spock said, trying his best to keep his voice level. The doctor’s pitying look told him just how successful his efforts had been. “And I was hardly in a position to refuse them without causing a diplomatic incident.”

“Diplomatic incident,” McCoy muttered. “Moral imperative. This is a child, Spock, not a treaty or a party favor. What are we going to do with a baby on board the Enterprise?”

“The fetus is still in its developmental stages,” Spock said, forming each word with care as he kept his eyes fixed on the wall over McCoy’s head. “It will be three months until it can survive outside of the incubator, even with the Irathian’s technology accelerating its growth.”

McCoy sighed and crossed his arms. Spock was waiting for another barrage of invasive questioning when the Medbay doors slid open, and he spotted the familiar figure of his Captain. The sight soothed him, betraying Spock’s confidence in Jim and his significant ability to solve seemingly impossible situations.

“Jim!” McCoy called out. “Perfect timing. We’ve got a hell of a problem this time.”

“Yes, I’ve heard. Something about an unorthodox gift?” Kirk asked as he moved to stand between the two of them. “Lieutenant Uhura didn’t give any specifics, but from the sound of it, the Irathians have put Mr. Spock in a difficult position.”

“The Irathian Ambassador felt it was necessary to gift me a…” Spock paused, his eyes darting over to the incubator before returning to Jim’s warm, golden gaze.

“…yes?” Kirk prompted after a moment of silence.

Spock took a breath, and continued, “They’ve gifted me a child, Captain.”

“I…pardon me, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked, eyes blinking rapidly as he looked at Spock, and then McCoy, with disbelief. “A child? Whose child?”

“Mine,” Spock said gravely. He ignored Kirk’s sputtering. “As you may recall, Irath is well known for their extraordinary advancements in genetics, cloning in particular. Due to near catastrophic disasters during their own planetary history, they have a passion for the conservation of unique and endangered species, and during our first meeting, several of the Irathian scientists discovered my rather…unique genetics.”

“I…see,” Kirk said, understanding dawning in his eyes. “And they saw fit to…help you.”

“Yes,” Spock admitted with a barely suppressed sigh. “The Irathians have given me a partially developed fetus cloned from my DNA, as well as instructions for the final three months of its gestation.”

Kirk said nothing but pressed a hand to his mouth as he stared down at the floor. McCoy cleared his throat and leaned forward.

“You can see the dilemma,” he said wryly. “I understand that we can’t start a diplomatic incident, Jim, but this is ridiculous. A Federation planet can’t go around stealing DNA samples from their visitors and making clones willy-nilly.”

“I don’t believe the Irathians will make this a common occurrence,” Spock interjected with a raise of his brow. “You must admit, doctor, that my circumstances were unusual.”

“True enough,” McCoy conceded, much to Spock’s surprise. “But even you have to admit that this is going a little too far. And who’s to say this is the only situation where the Irathians might feel obligated to help? If I go down and complain that I can’t have any kids, are they going to clone me without my permission too?”

Before Spock had the chance to answer, Kirk held up his hand and gave the two of them a stern look.

“I’ll have to let Starfleet know about the situation,” Kirk said. “This is certainly a cause for concern, but let’s leave it to the diplomats, shall we? I’m more concerned about what will happen with the child.”

“That was my concern too,” McCoy said. “A starship is no place for a child.”

“Obviously,” Spock said. “And taking into account both our deep space assignment and position as Flagship, we’re subjected to more danger than most.”

“Well, what are our other options? Dropping him off at a Starbase? That doesn’t seem right,” Kirk pointed out, his brow furrowed.

“Now you can’t just drop a baby off at the nearest outpost,” McCoy huffed, red indignation coloring his expression as he glared at Kirk. “Raising a child is no joke, and if Spock can’t commit to parenthood, he needs to either make sure the child has a home or…well, consider other options.”

“Bones, you’re not suggesting termination, are you?” Kirk asked, visibly taken aback. “This is Spock…well, Spock’s clone we’re discussing.”

Bones sighed, “I understand that, Jim. But as I see it, Spock has more or less got an unplanned pregnancy on his hands, and the first trimester is just about done. If he’s going to make a decision about this, he needs to do it now.”

“Although I find the analogy to be fairly crude,” Spock pointed out, ignoring the dirty look McCoy gave him. “I agree with Dr. McCoy.”

“But Spock,” Kirk began, eyes wide with an emotion the Vulcan had trouble identifying. However, before he could continue his argument, Kirk closed his mouth and slowly nodded his head. “I’m sorry, it’s not my place to.… I understand, Mr. Spock. This is a personal matter for you-- I’ll respect your decision.

“Thank you, Captain,” Spock said with a brief nod.

“Well, I’m glad that we’ve got that cleared up,” McCoy interrupted with a huff. “Now let’s lay down some options for you, Spock.”

“My options, doctor, are limited,” Spock began. “I can either terminate the fetus now, while it’s still in the beginning stages of its development.”

Kirk made a soft noise of protest at this, and Spock turned his head, raising a brow. His captain made no comment, but his mouth was oddly pinched.

“The other,” Spock continued as if nothing had happened. “Is to allow the fetus to develop fully on the Enterprise.”

“Which means subjecting the baby to a hostile environment during its most crucial stages of development,” McCoy interjected, his tone not yet hostile, but it was close.

“I am simply listing my options, doctor,” Spock reminded him patiently. “This option leaves me with two choices. The child can either remain here with me until the end of the mission, or I can resign my commission with Starfleet to monitor the child’s growth in a safer environment.”

The anticipated rebuttal did not come as Spock expected. Instead, he witnessed the strangest expressions flit across their faces. He often had difficulty interpreting McCoy’s rather mercurial moods, but Kirk gave him pause.

“Spock…” Kirk began, his voice nearly a whisper as he reached out to grab Spock’s arm. “Spock, you can’t be serious. You would resign your commission for this?”

“That is but one of the options,” Spock reminded his captain gently, the electric heat of Jim’s hand nearly driving him to distraction. “And there is some time before I must make a decision.”

“Not that much time,” McCoy said, his tone oddly subdued. “I’ll look through the databanks the Irathians gave us for more information. Either way we’ll need to be prepared.”

“Indeed,” Spock agreed. He pulled away from Kirk’s hand, already mourning the loss, and turned to the exit. “I must meditate on today’s events. Be assured that I will inform you the moment I come to a decision.”

“No more than five weeks, Spock,” McCoy told him, the habitual scowl creeping back onto his face. “Any longer than that and he’ll be too far along.”

Spock nodded, “I understand, doctor. Please excuse me.”

“Bones,” Jim said, looking to his friend after the doors had closed.

“I know what you’re going to say, Jim, and I’m telling you now—it’s none of our business,” Bones sighed. He shook his head before turning and walking to his office.

“Bones, you can’t be serious,” Jim argued, though a little voice in the back of his mind told him that his friend had a point. But there was another voice, one that panicked at the thought of Spock leaving, that overrode his good sense. “Don’t you think it’s worth discussing, at least?”

Jim trailed behind the doctor, almost on his heels, ignoring the disgruntled looks Bones sent his way. Jim sat down on the couch just as Bones reached for the Saurian brandy.

“I think that what I said before is still true,” Bones said as brandy sloshed into the two tumblers he kept in his office for these situations. “Spock is the one that needs to make this decision, end of story. And as much as it pains me to say it, I agree with how he’s handling this. Bringing a child into this world is serious business, it’s good he’s considering every option.”

“But Spock will either end up leaving the Enterprise, leaving Starfleet, and we’ll never see him again," Jim complained, accepting the glass from Bones and taking a sip. “Or we’ll be responsible for murdering Spock’s clone.”

“Jim, can you even hear yourself?” Bones sighed as he sat down heavily in his office chair, drink in hand. “Abortion isn’t murder, you know this.”

“No, I mean, yes, I know that, but-“ Jim found himself uncharacteristically floundering. “But you know what I mean, don’t you? It’s not a normal baby, it’s Spock.”

“It’s a clone,” Bones corrected. “It’s essentially Spock’s identical twin brother that was conceived forty years too late. It’s not Spock.”

“…right,” Jim reluctantly agreed, taking another sip from his tumbler so that he didn’t have to speak. Emotions churned inside of him-- panic, fear and confusion mixing together in his stomach until he began to think that maybe the brandy wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Now, tell me what this is really about, Jim,” Bones said, his sharp blue eyes demanding an answer that Jim didn’t have. “I know you get silly about the hobgoblin, but this is strange even for you.”

“Silly?” Jim laughed, the amusement cutting through the knot of tension in his stomach. “Now, come off it, Bones. Spock is my friend; he has a serious, life-changing decision to make—why wouldn’t I be concerned?”

“Uh-huh,” Bones grunted before taking a long sip of his brandy. “Answer me this, Jim, would you be acting this way if I was the one who had been cloned? Or Uhura, or Chekov? Or anyone else on this ship?”

“Well…” Jim said, his voice trailing off as he gave it some serious thought. The answer was simple, as much as he hated to admit it. No, he wouldn’t feel this way if McCoy or Uhura were the ones in this situation. “It’s just… Spock’s different.”

McCoy said nothing, but the look on his face spoke volumes.

“Well, what do you want me to say, Bones?” Jim asked, more defensively than he’d wanted to. “Should I pretend like I don’t care?”

“No, of course I don’t, Jim,” Bones said with a sigh. “But you have to be realistic. I know that you two are attached at the hip, but the five-year mission is almost over, and we’re coming home with an impressive resume. If he stays in Starfleet, he’s due for one hell of a promotion, and so are you. What’s the difference if he leaves now or in six months?”

“We… I mean, it wouldn’t happen just like that,” Jim protested. “There’s still the refit, and we’ll probably both be stationed at Headquarters for a while. That’s a big difference. Nearly a year, I’d say.”

“You’d say,” Bones repeated. “And what about Spock? I’ll tell you the truth, I haven’t heard our resident green-blooded terror say anything about his plans after the mission. I’m retiring, Chekov and Sulu are taking temporary positions on the Potemkin, Uhura is working on a new Universal Translator prototype at HQ, and Scotty’s doing the refit for the Enterprise. Have you heard anything, and I mean anything, from Spock?”

Jim stared at the doctor and knew that he didn’t have an answer. The look on his old friend’s face told him that he didn’t expect one.

“I still can’t accept that those are the only options for him right now,” Jim said quietly. “What about his parents? They could take the baby, couldn’t they?”

“Sarek and Amanda?” Bones said, frowning as he considered the idea. “Well, they managed to raise one Spock to adulthood, I don’t see why they’d have trouble doing it again.”

“Well, there we go,” Jim said triumphantly, smacking his hand against his knee and finishing off his brandy. “Spock can stay, and the baby can be taken care of by someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“Hold your horses, Jim,” Bones said. “Spock didn’t list that as an option; he might not want to involve his parents. His daddy’s got a heart condition, and you don’t know if they want another child. Having a grandchild would be one thing, but raising another half-Vulcan, half-Human hybrid? That’s a hell of a commitment.”

“Maybe Spock hasn’t considered it,” Jim protested. “And we won’t know how his parents feel until Spock asks them. It’s an option.”

“I guess,” Bones grumbled, and he didn’t stop Jim from leaving. “Just don’t come running to me when Spock throws you out of his room for suggesting it.”

“Good night, Bones!” he called over his shoulder.

For the first time since he’d come to medbay, Jim felt light as air. It might not be a perfect solution, but he couldn’t imagine a life without Spock by his side. The well-being of two Spocks were on the line, and he had to try.  

Spock focused on his keeping his breath deep, slow, and centered. Thoughts and emotions clouded his mind, and he did his best to examine, sort, and set aside all extraneous sensations. Instead, he must concentrate on the issue at hand. Namely, a certain Irathian ‘gift’ that would change the course of his life if he allowed it.

It was a curious conundrum now that he had dealt with his confusion and indignation. While a gross violation of his personal privacy had been committed, Spock also realized that an opportunity had been given to him that, after the disaster with T’Pring, he had not considered an option.

Parenthood.

A chance to raise a child of his own, one that wouldn’t experience the same ridicule he had endured. A child that he could raise without Sarek’s influence, that he would support no matter what path the child chose to pursue. It was a heady thought, one that he had sometimes imagined before the ill-fated kal-if-fee, but rarely after. However, the decision required a uniquely painful sacrifice from him.

Jim…

A buzz at the door startled him from his meditative state, and Spock blinked in the dim lighting of his bedroom. He wondered briefly who would disturb him at such an hour, but the answer was fairly obvious with a little thought, and Spock barely managed to suppress a sigh.

“Come,” Spock called as he stood. He straightened his thick, black mediation robes and tucked his hands into his sleeves, preparing himself for another argument.

I should have known that would not be the end of it, Spock thought fondly. Jim was the only exception Spock allowed when it came to an indulgence of emotion-- a risk, but often worth the trouble. A small shadow crossed his mind, the thought that it would soon no longer be a concern.

“Spock,” said Jim’s voice, proving Spock’s prediction true.

“Jim,” he said in return, gesturing to his desk. Jim nodded in understanding, and they sat down, both of them sensing the seriousness of the occasion.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Spock,” Jim started, his body leaning over the short table as he stared Spock down, his eyes glinting golden even in the dim lighting of Spock’s rooms. “I know I said we would give you time, but I had a thought.”

“I value your thoughts,” Spock said carefully. His friend had a mind and personality he had grown to admire and cherish over their years-long friendship, but he wondered what option Jim had discovered that Spock had not already thought of.

“Thank you,” Jim said with a glowing smile. Spock felt something inside his chest untighten, a feeling that hadn’t been alleviated in the hour of meditation, but a moment in Jim’s presence had cured. “I was wondering if you had considered another option…your parents.”

“No,” Spock said before his thoughts could catch up. The stricken look on Jim’s face was an awful sight, especially knowing he had put it there, but his mind was stuck on the thought…the very idea that another Vulcan hybrid would be raised by his father and mother. That another would experience exactly what he had.

“Wh- Spock, did you even consider it?” Jim asked, frown lines marring the smooth skin of his face. “Surely it’s not the worst idea, leaving the child with your parents. They raised you after all.”

“Captain,” Spock said, keeping his voice low and even with considerable effort. “If leaving the child with my parents was an option, I would have spoken of it before.”

“Why isn’t it an option?” Jim argued, body leaning in closer. His knees brushed against Spock’s under the small table and his hot breath fanned gently over Spock’s bare skin. “Sarek and Amanda have already raised a child to adulthood with great success. What would be the issue?”

Spock turned his head to the side, and for a long moment he fought to regain his composure. Any stability he had gained had been shattered by the ‘solution’ Jim had brought to him.

“Yes,” Spock allowed finally. “With some success. But not without many difficulties…and disappointments.”

“Disappointments?” Jim repeated incredulously. “I understand that you and your father haven’t always seen eye to eye, but no one could be disappointed in having you for a son.”

Spock took a deep breath and held it, counting for several seconds before releasing slowly.

“Thank you,” Spock said. “However, my childhood was not an easy one. Not without many difficulties unique to my circumstance. It wasn’t often that I considered raising a child of my own before this, but…”

“Yes?” Jim prompted when Spock paused. Spock wondered whether or not this was too personal to share, even with his… with Jim. This lasted until Jim placed an impossibly warm hand on his elbow, the thumb rubbing against the thick fabric of his robe, and Spock remembered that he had shared more with this man than he had anyone else in his life. What was one more thing?

“I had always imagined that if I had a chance to raise a child of my own, I would seek to do better than my parents,” Spock explained. “To correct certain… deficiencies in my own childhood.”

“Oh,” Jim said, releasing his arm. “Well, I suppose a lot of people feel that way. Everyone wants to do better than their parents, to give their own children what they never had...”

“Yes,” Spock agreed. “If you were given this opportunity, Jim, would you not want to do better than your parents?”

Jim opened and closed his mouth, seemingly lost for words, but Spock waited patiently for his companion to find them.

“I never really…” Jim started. “Well, maybe if I met the right person, I wouldn’t mind giving it a go, but I’m happy here as Captain of the Enterprise. And I…suppose I thought you felt the same. Maybe not happy exactly, but I thought you…preferred to be on the Enterprise.”

“Jim…” Spock said quietly. “I do prefer it. Working with you on the Enterprise has been five of the most fulfilling years of my life.”

Jim said nothing, but his eyes were shining with an emotion Spock could feel echoing inside of him, though it shamed him to admit it, even to himself.

“But?” Jim said.

“But even without the… gift the Irathians have given me,” Spock continued. “Our time here is coming to an end.”

“I suppose it is,” Jim agreed, his eyes downcast and his voice barely a whisper. “Does this mean you’ve made up your mind then?”

“Not yet,” Spock shook his head. “I must meditate on the matter further before making my decision.”

“Right… right,” Jim said quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Spock, can I ask…?”

“Yes?” Spock asked, raising an inquisitive brow at Jim’s hesitation.

“After the mission…” Jim began carefully. “Can I ask what your plans were… or are, perhaps. If the child isn’t an option for you. I just realized, you never said.”

Spock looked away from his friend’s face once more. He thought of the hopeless, fluttering feelings and Jim’s honey-colored eyes, and reminded himself of all the things he desired, but could not have.

If not for the child, Spock thought. My path would be Kolinahr, the purging of all emotions. There would be no other option, not for this.

“I was undecided on the matter,” Spock said.  “If I plan to raise the child, I will of course need to resign my commission, but there are several paths I might take if I choose to remain in Starfleet. I will need to consider them after I have made my decision concerning the child, however.”

“Oh, yes of course,” Jim said, though Spock noticed there was something off in his tone. The energy that had been there before was noticeably absent. Spock wondered what had brought about the change, but before he could address the matter, Jim stood.

“Well, good night, Mr. Spock,” Jim said, a ghost of his usual smile on his lips. “I’ll let you get back to your meditation.”

“Good night, Jim,” Spock replied as the doors closed behind his friend.

He sat there for several long moments, wondering at the strangeness of their conversation and all the words unsaid that were hovering between them.

“Well, you’ve made your decision, have you?” were the first words out of Dr. McCoy’s mouth as Spock entered his office early the next morning.

“If you’ll remember, doctor,” Spock said, pausing in front of the older man’s desk and tucking his arms neatly behind his back. “I have had less than 48 hours to consider my options on a decision that will change my life for the foreseeable future.”

“So that’s a ‘no’ then,” the man rolled his eyes and turned back to his console. “Why are you here so early in the morning then?”

“Access to my medical records on Vulcan,” Spock explained. “You’ll need my authorization code to request them.”

“Oh, right,” McCoy sighed. “I almost forgot. Spent all night reading through everything the Irathians gave us, I almost forgot about you.”

“It is my understanding that some degree of memory retention is needed for your profession,” Spock couldn’t help but prod the doctor. “Though considering-“

“Ah! If you finish that sentence, so help me, Spock, I’ll have you lined up for weekly physicals from now until we arrive back on Earth,” McCoy threatened, his cheeks dusted with patches of red.

“I fail to see the reason for such frequent physicals,” Spock countered. “Unless you are incapable of discerning your patients’ ailments during the first appointment.”

“Ha ha ha,” McCoy grumbled, getting up from his seat and motioning Spock over. “Quit playing around and put in your request. I don’t exactly have the contact number for the Vulcan Science Academy laying around, so you’ll have to put the address in yourself.”

Spock decided to forego making a comment on whether or not he “played around” and sat down.

“Certainly, doctor,” Spock said. “I was wondering when we would be done with your illogical conversation.”

“Our illogical conversation,” McCoy said under his breath, though Spock was sure the other man knew he could hear him perfectly. “It takes two to tango.”

“I would never tango with you, doctor,” Spock said. “I find many forms of Earth dance highly unappealing, tango included.”

Before the doctor could begin arguing with him again, he continued, “I’ve sent the message to the ShiKahr medical facility with my personal records. I expect you should hear an answer from them in the next 24 hours.”

“Good,” McCoy sighed as he switched places with Spock, sitting down heavily in his chair as he rubbed his forehead. Spock wondered if it would be wise to recommend taking the day to rest but ultimately decided against it. Though McCoy was often eager to dispense advice to those under his care, he was strangely against following it himself.

“Until then,” Spock nodded, and he turned to exit McCoy’s office.

“Wait just a second there,” the doctor called out, forcing Spock to pause in his escape. “I got something else to go over with you.”

Spock felt a bubble of curiosity building up inside of him against his better judgment. He couldn’t recall having other business with the medical department, not in his capacity as Science Officer or as First Officer. That only left personal matters.

“Yes?” Spock prompted, stepping back in front of McCoy’s desk.

“Quit your looming and sit down,” he said, waving at one of the chairs. Spock huffed slightly but followed the doctor’s instructions. “Now, I know Jim went to see you last night.”

“He did,” Spock responded carefully. He had meditated for several hours the night before, turning over the challenges before him in his mind until he was forced to retire for the night. He had found no answers, feeling more conflicted about his current course in life than he ever had before.

“And?” McCoy prompted. “Did he tell you that idea he had? I know that you don’t get along great with your dad, but Jim seemed convinced it was a good option, and he knows you better than me, that’s for sure.”

“It… is a logical solution,” Spock conceded, though reluctantly.

“But not one you want to pursue, huh?” McCoy guessed, his voice dry and his brow raised.

“No,” Spock said shortly, and took a deep breath. “I have already explained to the captain why I do not wish to leave the child in the care of my parents.”

“Okay,” McCoy said. A short and simple reply that Spock did not expect, and it must have shown on his face, much to his chagrin, as the doctor gave him a wry smile.

“I thought there’d be a reason why you hadn’t brought it up in the first place,” McCoy explained. “Everyone’s got their issues with their parents, and I figure you’re not the type to foist your problems off on someone else to make your life a little easier. If this kid makes it to term, you’re keeping it, aren’t you?”

“…yes, I believe so,” Spock said quietly, hands steepled in front of him as he thought. The doctor had read the situation better than he had expected, though perhaps that was unfair. The older man was a parent himself, if Spock recalled his Starfleet records accurately.

“I’m sure Jim didn’t take it well, huh?” McCoy continued, though Spock couldn’t read the strange knowing expression on his face. What thought was the doctor trying to convey to him exactly?

“I cannot comment on how… well the captain took the news,” Spock lied. “However, he did not seem upset when I saw him the night before.”

“I see,” McCoy said with a pointed look that Spock ignored. “Well, he’ll get over it eventually. Hate to admit it, Spock, but I think you’re going into this with the right frame of mind.”

“…thank you,” Spock said, strangely thrown off-kilter by the man’s acceptance.

“Anyway,” McCoy continued after roughly clearing his throat. Spock wondered if it would be prudent to remind him to schedule his own physicals with Dr. M’Benga. “I’ll let you know when we get a reply.”

“Until then.”

“Amanda, have you heard from our son recently?” Sarek asked his wife.

They were sitting across from each other, enjoying an early breakfast on the veranda while the surface temperatures were still tolerable for his human partner. His PADD was sat next to him, a mirror image of Amanda’s own as he checked his morning correspondence.

“Not since last week,” Amanda said absentmindedly, her eyes flitting across the screen of her own device as she read the latest Federation news. “Why?”

“A request has been made for Spock’s medical records,” Sarek explained as he examined the notification. “Logically, it must be our son, though I can think of no reason why he should need them.”

“Oh,” Amanda said, she lifted her eyes from her PADD and met his gaze. Nearly four decades of marriage and Sarek still found the strange, alien blue of her eyes mesmerizing, illogical as it was. “Well, that is a little strange, he should already have his relevant medical history with him. Why don’t you ask him?”

“Hm,” Sarek said, placing his PADD down onto the table before picking up his tea.

“Oh, Sarek,” Amanda sighed, though he could hear the faint tinkle of amusement in her tone. “Surely after everything that happened you can reach out to your son. When was the last time you spoke with him?”

“My wife, you know when,” Sarek reminded her patiently. Despite the extraordinary reconciliation between himself and his son after Babel, there had been no reason to contact Spock in the interim. Sarek assumed he would be seeing him after the end of his mission regardless, so to message a Starfleet officer only to discuss pleasantries seemed… illogical.

“Well, perhaps now is a good time to start a conversation,” Amanda said with a fond smile. She stood up from the table and picked up her PADD, pausing only to kiss Sarek gently on the cheek.

“May I use your email to make the inquiry?” Sarek asked after they had also kissed the Vulcan way, their fingers brushing in a way that never failed to thrill him.

“May I ask why?” Amanda countered, her brow arched, though the amused sparkle was still dancing in her eyes. Sarek admired it for a moment before answering.

“I hardly wish to alert the Federation or Starfleet by having a senior member of the Vulcan Embassy messaging the flagship about confidential medical records,” Sarek reasoned.

“Very well,” Amanda said with a sigh. “You know I don’t lock my terminal.”

“Thank you,” Sarek said, a faint smile on his lips as he watched his wife’s form retreat from the glare of the Vulcan sun and the rising temperature. “…though perhaps it would be wiser to reach out to another first…”

“What do you suppose is going on with our command team nowadays, Chekov?” Sulu asked, the corners of his lips twisting into a mischievous grin.

Sitting across from him in the Officer’s mess, Chekov hunched over his lunch as he tried his hardest to shovel food into his mouth as quickly as possible. Bemused, Sulu waited and stared as his companion finished swallowing.

“Who, the Commander and the Keptin?” Chekov whispered, leaning in conspiratorially. “I mean, da, but they always act strange.”

“Not like this,” Sulu insisted. “Kirk’s been moping, Spock’s downright frazzled, and every time McCoy comes up to the bridge, he goes straight to the science station instead of the chair.”

“That’s true,” Chekov conceded. “The doctor and Mr. Spock have practically been bosom buddies zis past week.”

“Right?” Sulu said. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. What do you think happened?”

“It started after that mission, correct?” Chekov asked, looking down at his half-finished meal thoughtfully. “Uhura was there, do you think she knows?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” Sulu said with a frown. He perked up when he caught sight of Uhura from across the room. “Uhura! Come over here for a second.”

The lieutenant turned her head, lunch tray in hand as she smiled warmly at her fellow bridge crew.

“Hello boys,” she said, walking over to their table. “What can I help you with?”

“You were on that mission with Mr. Spock, weren’t you?” Sulu asked, straight to the point. “Any insight on why our command team’s been so out-of-sorts lately?”

“Oh, well,” Uhura said, her lips pursing as she thought of what to say. “I can’t really tell you any of the details, but it was a… personal matter for Mr. Spock. That’s all I’ll say.”

“A personal matter?” Chekov echoed, frowning as he considered her answer.

“For Mr. Spock,” Sulu continued the echo. “What kind of personal business would Mr. Spock have down on Irath?”

“That’s all I’ll say, gentlemen,” Uhura said, raising her brows pointedly. “I’ll let you get back to your lunch.”

Sulu and Chekov said their goodbyes and watched as she made her way across the room to where Scotty and Chapel were sitting. Chekov turned back to Sulu first and leaned in.

“So, personal business,” he said. “You think Mr. Spock got a girlfriend or something?”

“Who? Mr. Spock?” Sulu said incredulously, a laugh spilling from his lips. “No way.”

“What?” Chekov said defensively. “He was down there for a few weeks, it could have happened.”

“Yeah right,” Sulu scoffed. “You were there when we saw Spock’s wife right?”

“That was my first day,” Chekov said. “And a very memorable one at that. But I thought they weren’t married anymore.”

“No, they definitely got divorced when they went to Vulcan,” Sulu agreed. “That’s what most people agree on anyway.”

“He was so happy afterward too,” Chekov sighed, shaking his head. “If I was married to such a woman, I would not have been happy to let her go.”

“Exactly,” Sulu said, pointing his finger at his friend. “Mr. Spock goes down to Vulcan to get divorced, the captain and McCoy go with him, Kirk comes back with an injury, and Spock beams up right after them, looking out of sorts. But then, after the whole mess is over, he’s running around the ship with the captain like it’s the happiest day of his life.”

“No one can match up to the captain, da?” Chekov laughed.

Sulu joined him, and the two were chuckling to themselves when they each felt a hand clap them on the shoulder. A sense of foreboding trickled down their spines as they turned their heads, wondering which of their superiors had caught them gossiping about the ship’s command team.

“McCoy!” Sulu exclaimed, pasting a bright smile over the stricken look he’d been wearing only a moment before. “I didn’t expect to see you here, don’t you usually take your lunch a little later in the day?”

“I came to see Chapel,” McCoy said, his tone conversational but the grip on their shoulders tightened before he finally let them go. “But I saw you two over here, and I thought I’d come say hello.”

“Oh, yes, hello,” Chekov said with a little wave of his hand. “It is good to see you, doctor.”

“Good to see you too,” McCoy said, rocking back on his heels as he looked between the two of them. “Now what’s all this talk about Mr. Spock’s personal business, huh?”

“Oh, well,” Sulu began. “We’re just a little curious, that’s all. You know how it is, Spock and Kirk have been acting a little strange lately, and we were wondering the cause of it.”

“And we started to…uh, reminisce about old times while we were at it,” Chekov continued. “You know how it is.”

“Yes, yes I do,” McCoy said slowly. “Though I also know that speculating about the personal lives of your superior officers is inappropriate. Hypothetically.”

“Right,” Sulu agreed, a little breathlessly. “But we’re just… worried about them. They do seem a little out of sorts, and you know how crazy things can get around here.”

McCoy only sighed at that. Everyone on the Enterprise knew how strange things could get at the drop of a hat.

“I’m not saying that you shouldn’t be worried about your co-workers,” McCoy said after a long moment. “But I can tell you it’s a sensitive issue. The kind of thing it would be best not to speculate about in public spaces where concerned parties could overhear, how about that?”

“Understood, sir,” Sulu said, turning his head back down to his food, and Chekov did the same.

Jim knew that he was moping, he didn’t need Bones to tell him that. There was a new distance between Spock and himself, a rift he didn’t know how to heal. There would be no more late-night conversations over chess, no more light-hearted banter on the bridge, no more away missions together, no more Spock. Every day was just another way to say goodbye.

“Uhura, any messages from Starfleet before I leave the bridge?” Jim asked, a sigh threatening to spill from his lips. Spock had left the bridge an hour earlier to spend time in the labs. It seemed that their schedules never seemed to line up anymore.

“Not from Starfleet, Captain,” Uhura said as she studied her console. “But a parcel of personal messages has been delivered to your cabin’s computer console.”

“Oh,” Jim said, taken aback. He hadn’t been expecting anything. It was difficult enough to communicate with Starfleet through subspace arrays and so less urgent messages usually took weeks to make it to them. “Well, thank you for the good news, lieutenant.”

“Not a problem, Captain,” Uhura said with a warm smile.

Jim ignored the touch of pity in her eyes; he knew he’d been a pathetic sight these days. He clapped her on the shoulder before turning to the turbolift, curious to know who would bypass the usual subspace transmission hurdles to contact him.

After a quick shower and a change into more casual clothing, Jim was pleasantly surprised to see that he had a message from Spock’s mother waiting for him. He’d become something of a pen pal with her since the Babel incident, and it had been wonderful to discover what a witty, interesting person she was. Though knowing her son, Jim thought ruefully, that shouldn’t have been a surprise.

He opened the message, wondering what Amanda was so eager to share with him, and had to focus on staying in his seat when he realized just what he was reading.

Captain Kirk:

This is Sarek.

I apologize for the confusion, but I am inquiring after the well-being of my son. I did not wish to use my personal address to make the inquiry, as Starfleet may misconstrue the nature of the communication.

It has come to my attention that your ship requested Spock’s private medical records, several of which have information pertaining to his conception and gestation. I can think of no logical reason for your medical department to request this information, though it would not have been possible without my son’s authorization.

I have written to you first because, despite our recent reconciliation, I find it unlikely that my son would disclose details of a medical condition he may be suffering. I would not ask that you violate Spock’s privacy, but any clarification that you might offer would be appreciated.

-Sarek

Jim stared at the message, wondering perhaps if he was hallucinating, or if Amanda was playing an elaborate prank on him. He shook his head; Spock’s mother wouldn’t do that. So that meant…

“What do I say to this?” Jim muttered, a hand clasped to his mouth as he read the message again. “I can’t betray Spock’s trust on this… but I can’t lie to Sarek.”

Jim sighed and shut down his computer. This was a problem to solve another day. And another day it was, and then another, until he was able to reply. He thought about telling Spock about the message, but one look at Spock’s fatigued figure on the bridge and the wary distance the Vulcan had been maintaining between them, Jim thought it best not to bring up the subject of his parents again so soon after their last argument.

He resolved not to tell Sarek anything about the incident, nothing specific anyway. Spock would need to tell his parents about the matter eventually, but it wasn’t news that should come from Jim.

After a long, lonely shift of star charting, and none of the usual levity and conversation he was used to, Jim finally sat down and composed his message.

Sarek,

It’s good to hear from you, and I hope retirement is treating you well. Concerning Mr. Spock, I’m afraid I can’t tell you why his medical records were requested. Such matters are the concern of Spock and our Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Leonard McCoy. However, I can assure you that your son is in good health.

Jim stared at the single paragraph he’d written and sighed. It got his point across well enough, he supposed. But he knew Spock’s father had never really approved of his only son joining Starfleet, despite the grudging pride he had quietly expressed after the mission to Babel. Maybe he could add a small note about his recent accomplishments?

The thought satisfied him. He wouldn’t share anything that would reveal the existence of a Spock clone in Medbay, but Sarek would surely appreciate the diplomatic ability his son displayed on Irath.

Additionally, I’m happy to inform you that Spock has proven himself indispensable to the Enterprise and her mission once more. His acts of diplomacy on Irath during their introduction to the Federation were highly commendable, and the Irathians themselves displayed overwhelming appreciation and gratitude for his presence.

Though our mission will end in only a few more months, I find that there has been no greater honor than having served these past five years with your son.

Warm regards,

Cpt. James T. Kirk, USS Enterprise

Jim scanned the email, weary eyes trying to pick out anything that might be too inappropriate or that would give away too much information. Perhaps he was being a little too open in his admiration for Spock, but Jim found that he meant every word. What would be more offensive to a Vulcan: an open expression of emotion or lying? Jim took Sarek’s long association with humans into account, both in his personal and professional lives and figured that he could get away with a little emotionality.

The information he provided Sarek about Irath was his next point of concern. But, Jim consoled himself, Sarek was retired. He would hardly have the same resources available to him that he'd had when he was still working. At the very least, he wouldn’t have access to any Starfleet reports that would mention Spock’s… gift.

It wasn’t until a week had passed that Jim finally received his reply.

Captain Kirk:

I thank you for your reply, it has been most helpful. I would also like to wish you luck on your next mission.

-Sarek

Jim blinked at the message, taken aback by its abruptness and the strange foreboding the final sentence gave him. He shrugged it off, much more concerned with his duties aboard the Enterprise than he was his correspondence with Spock’s father, and he gave it no more thought.

“So, Jim,” Bones drawled as he gripped the backrest of the captain’s chair and glanced down at his friend. “Why do you think they requested us for this shindig instead of going with the Intrepid like they were supposed to?”

“Well, Bones,” Jim responded playfully, attention mostly on the PADD in his hands than the Doctor at his shoulder. “We are the flagship. If I had to take a guess, I’d say they wanted a better representative for the Annual Peace Summit.”

“Uh-huh,” Bones said in a way that Jim was familiar with. The good doctor thought there was more going on beneath the surface than Jim would admit; Bones could be horribly nosy sometimes. “And… the side trip to Vulcan?”

“Vulcan is one of the founding members of the Federation, and one of the most devoted to peace and unity with all life forms,” Jim countered. “What’s unusual about us picking up the Vulcan delegation when we’re traveling to the same planet?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Bones said, raising his hands up in defeat before crossing them over his chest. “But uh, are we going to be seeing a…certain Vulcan during our trip?”

“Not that I know of,” Jim said with a frown.

“I believe the doctor is alluding to my father,” Spock said as he stepped down from his station and moved to stand on Jim’s other side.

“You might be right, Mr. Spock,” Bones said, bouncing back on his heels. “How’s your daddy doing, and should we expect him any time soon?”

“My father should be resting on the family estate in ShiKahr,” Spock said blandly. “Seeing as he retired soon after the mission to Babel.”

“Right, right,” Bones said with a shake of his head. “Well, I wouldn’t mind seeing him for a follow-up, but it’s for the best he stays put.”

“Indeed,” Spock agreed, a phenomenon that had become so common the last few weeks that the bridge hardly reacted anymore. “I’m sure my mother would agree.”

“Ha! I’m sure she would,” Jim chuckled. If there was anything he’d learned during his sporadic correspondence with Spock’s mother, it was that she was a force to be reckoned with.

“Captain,” Uhura called, her hand firmly pressed against her earpiece as she listened intently. “We’re receiving clearance from Vulcan.”

“Very good,” Jim said, glancing over his shoulder before signing off on one last report. “Gentlemen, it’s just about time to greet our guests.”

“Oh boy,” Bones said with no small amount of sarcasm. “I can’t wait to entertain an entire troop of hobgoblins for three weeks.”

“Vulcans rarely seek entertainment, doctor,” Spock said, his tone as cool and even as ever. “Unless one should count games of logic or debates, but as neither are to your liking, I doubt you’ll be called upon to entertain anyone.”

Bones merely grunted in irritation as he turned around, stomping over to the turbolift with Jim and Spock close behind. Jim bit the inside of his cheek, trying his best not to let his amusement show.

“All rooms have already been prepared,” Jim said absently, going over all the many, many preparations that needed to be done before accepting diplomatic guests aboard the Enterprise. “And I imagine our Vulcan guests will be lower maintenance than what we usually expect.”

Spock nodded his head in agreement, and Jim returned the gesture. It was during moments like these that Jim could forget the looming end date to their working relationship.

“After that, the only thing to worry about is the summit itself,” Jim mused, shifting his gaze to stare at the walls of the turbolift instead.

“Yeah, no big deal,” Bones groused. “Just representing Starfleet in one of the biggest meetups this side of the galaxy. I can’t believe they gave us less than a week to prepare for our presentations. I’m not looking to make a fool of myself in front of the entire Federation.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine, Bones,” Jim said, patting his arm.

“Ha, easy for you to say, you don’t have to do one,” Bones grumbled.

“No, but I know that I have the best crew in the fleet,” Jim said with an easy smile. “And I have the utmost confidence in my senior staff.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Spock and Scotty will be as happy as a pig in shit,” Bones said, looking over at Spock pointedly.

Spock opened his mouth as if to respond to the irrationality of the crude proverb Bones had used, but closed it soon after, finally realizing after almost five years in space that some battles were not worth fighting.

“…I look forward to presenting on the environmental catastrophe we diverted on Denebula,” Spock said carefully. “And I believe Mr. Scott is preparing to speak about alternate sources of renewable energy.”

“And you, Bones?” Jim prompted.

“That vaccine we synthesized on Riferias IV for the Olarian Flu,” Bones sighed. “It should have a broader application to several other viruses in that quadrant, but I don’t want to get my hopes up until I have the time to consult a few of my colleagues.”

“Sounds promising,” Jim said with sincerity. Bones could be surprisingly modest at times, but the man really was something else. From what he understood, the vaccine his medical team had created was making waves amongst the Federation medical community, and his CMO’s presentation at the summit was sure to be a popular one.

Anything else Bones was going to say was cut off by the turbolift’s doors opening, and the three of them walked briskly down the corridor to the transporter room. Jim was curious to meet the Vulcan delegation, especially with his First Officer in tow. He’d figured out early on that Spock tended to evoke extreme reactions from Vulcans, ranging from open admiration to thinly veiled contempt.  

He patted Scotty on the shoulder as he entered the transporter room, Bones and Spock flanking him.

“Ready to greet our guests, Mr. Scott?”

“Aye, Captain,” Scotty said with a grin. “Got everything in order, just waiting for the call to beam ‘em up.”

“Very good,” Jim nodded, before turning back to Spock and Bones. “How many in the party?”

“Five,” Spock responded promptly, his arms tucked behind his back in his usual fashion. Jim took the time to fully observe him in full dress uniform, a sight he would soon miss when Spock resigned his commission.

“Five Vulcans,” Bones mused. “I still can’t do that salute though. Should I just bow instead?”

“A bow should be sufficient,” Spock said, though he patiently coached Bones as the man attempted to manipulate his fingers into the correct positions.

Jim couldn’t judge. He was able to separate his fingers to form a Vulcan salute, but only after many, many months of practice. He wondered how often he would have to use it after the mission was over.

“Party incoming, captain,” Scotty warned them, and the whine of the transporter interrupted all conversations. The senior staff lined up next to the landing pad, watching dutifully as the familiar swirl of light faded away to reveal a small group of Vulcans.

Jim and Spock were closest to the re-assembled Vulcan delegation, and both watched in stunned disbelief as a painfully familiar figure stepped away from the platform.

“Captain Kirk,” Sarek said, his voice smooth and his expression placid as he raised his hand to display a perfect ta’al. “And Commander Spock.”

“Oh, ah, yes,” Jim fumbled his greeting. He raised his hand and mirrored the salute, though imperfectly. “It’s a… pleasure to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Sarek said with a small nod of acknowledgment. The Vulcans behind him looked vaguely unsettled by the sentiment.

The silence in the room was deafening. Jim imagined he could feel Spock’s heart beating against his arm.

“Well,” Jim said finally, glancing down the line of officers. It seemed almost everyone had picked up on the tension in the room. “I’d like to welcome everyone aboard. Please follow Commander Scott to your accommodations.”

Sarek nodded, not questioning the abrupt end to the usual pleasantries. The rest of the delegation followed the elder Vulcan out of the room, walking in a neat single file. Their glossy, black hair shone under the artificial light.

Jim let out a sigh when he was alone with Spock and Bones once more, and he turned to them, arms crossed.

“Well… that was unexpected,” Jim began carefully, his eyes lingering on Spock’s face. His expression was tense, the muscles in his cheeks clearly visible as the man clenched his teeth and pursed his lips.

“There was no word from Starfleet?” Spock demanded, his body turned to Jim and his eyes a fathomless black.

“No, Spock,” Jim said quietly. “I would have told you if I heard your father was coming aboard. You remember, I thought he was retired.”

“He is,” Spock ground out. Bones was staying quiet for once, but his eyes, usually sparkling with glee when Spock’s emotions got the better of him, were surprisingly subdued. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”

Spock nodded at them as he left, the movement not as fluid or graceful as it usually was.

“Well, this is a disaster waiting to happen,” Bones said wryly as soon as the doors closed behind Spock.

“I hope not,” Jim said, holding back another sigh. He rubbed at his temples, wondering what Sarek was up to.

“Do you think someone tipped Sarek off?” Bones asked in a hushed whisper as he leaned closer to Jim. “About what happened on Irath?”

Jim smothered a bolt of panic, hoping that ‘someone’ hadn’t been him. It couldn’t have… could it? All he had shared was praise for Spock’s job performance on Irath and only the admiralty had access to the full report. Surely….

“I don’t know, Bones,” Jim replied. “It could be Sarek knew we were making a trip to Vulcan and pulled some strings to see Spock. It doesn’t have to be related.”

“Now Jim, you can’t go accusing a Vulcan of being sentimental,” Bones said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Bones,” Jim admonished.

“I’m just saying,” Bones continued. “I can’t imagine Sarek leaving the planet when logically he should be resting. Unless it was extremely important. Like in case his only son got cloned against his will during a diplomatic mission.”

“But how could he have known?” Jim asked. “Isn’t it more likely that he realized you requested Spock’s medical records? I know you don’t think highly of the Vulcan way, but surely there’s some logic in concern for your child.”

“It’s logical to send an email,” Bones shot back. “And stop saying logic, it’s giving me a headache. We don’t need to pick up the slack if the hobgoblin’s not in the room.”

“You started it,” Jim said with a grin breaking across his face. “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. No need to pry into Spock’s business more than we already do.”

“Hmph,” Bones grunted, giving Jim an odd look before he shook his head. “You’re probably right. I have a feeling we’ll need a drink after dinner tonight.”

“Yes, well,” Jim coughed. “Tonight was always going to have its… challenges. Let’s hope Spock and Sarek can make their peace before we get to the pudding.”

“Amen,” Bones said with a roll of his eyes.

Spock was ashamed to admit that his mind was in disarray. Logically, the presence of his father should no longer disturb the order of his mind. He was an officer of Starfleet with a long list of accomplishments and honors, and he was almost forty years old.

However, Spock could not lie to himself. He was unnerved.

Could he know…? It was the only thought running through his mind, despite his attempts to contain it. One thing was for certain, Spock needed to talk with Sarek before he began to explore the ship freely. And he would need to place a call to Amanda before they were out of Vulcan’s range for in-time video communication. Surely his mother couldn’t have allowed her sick husband to travel off-planet in his condition. The man was still recovering from several major heart attacks and extensive heart surgery.

He stopped his pacing and called to the computer, asking for Sarek’s location. His father was in his quarters, and Spock decided to act quickly. He walked briskly from the crew section of the ship to diplomatic housing, and before he knew it, he was asking for entry to his father’s rooms and stepping inside. The dim light and room temperature were similar enough to his own that Spock found himself relaxing, despite the purpose that had driven him here.

“Father?” Spock called, eyes searching for the older man’s figure when he did not make himself immediately known.

“Over here, Spock,” Sarek’s voice came from the far alcove. On Constitution Class Starships, all of the diplomatic guest quarters came with a full office, something that Sarek was well accustomed to due to his long tenure as Chief Vulcan Ambassador to the Earth.

Spock tucked his hands behind his back, mentally prepared himself for the confrontation, and wished, however illogically, that he could have meditated for a few hours beforehand. Unfortunately, time was of the essence.

“Does Mother know that you’re here?” Spock asked as his father’s form came into view. He was seated at the desk, a PADD open in front of him as he scrolled through what Spock assumed to be the Vulcan itinerary for the summit.

“Your mother is currently visiting her family in Vancouver,” Sarek said, his tone as even and placid as ever. “I am well enough to make a small trip, my son.”

“I see,” Spock said, stiff even to his own ears. He could send a message to his mother later then, it seemed an in-time video call was no longer an option.

“Though perhaps I should visit Dr. McCoy,” Sarek said, his eyes finally flickering up and catching Spock’s. “My medical team on Vulcan were satisfied with the surgery he performed under such dire circumstances. Impressive considering his inexperience with Vulcan anatomy.”

“Dr. McCoy is a competent physician,” Spock acknowledged, though he found himself hoping that word of that never reached the man in question. “Though I do not understand why you would risk your health to come aboard the Enterprise. Despite McCoy’s previous success, he still has limited ability concerning your medical needs. It would have been logical to stay on Vulcan; it has only been a year since you experienced a major heart attack.”

“Yes,” Sarek said with a nod. “But it has also been a year since my last major surgery, during which I have been recovering successfully. If you do not trust the expertise of the Enterprise’s CMO, perhaps you would trust the medical clearance I received on Vulcan.”

Spock was forced to concede this point with a shallow nod.

“Furthermore,” Sarek said. “I find it curious that you lack confidence in McCoy’s medical expertise when you gave him authorization to request your records.”

There it was, Spock thought to himself, leaning back and raising his eyebrows at the accusation. He may not know about the clone, but he knows something is amiss. I hadn’t thought he would find a way to come aboard the Enterprise.

“I am an officer of Starfleet,” Spock reminded his father. “It is pertinent that McCoy has all of my available records in case of emergency.”

“And for what reason are you only requesting them now, near the end of your mission?” Sarek asked, his voice almost toneless, but Spock recognized the knowing glint in his father’s eyes.

“There is still the better part of a year left,” Spock said dismissively, turning away. “There are many situations that would make all of my medical records a necessity. Our mission history confirms that.”

“I see,” Sarek said.

“I will see you at dinner later,” Spock said, ending the conversation. Before his father could make his reply, he made his exit, determined to speak with Bones the location of the incubator. And to remind him how highly he valued a doctor’s discretion.

Jim tried not to run down the hallway, though he suspected his brisk walk was only just shy of the description based on the looks his crew was giving him. He wasn’t sure if Spock had spoken to his father yet, but Jim knew that he needed to see Sarek as soon as possible.

Why couldn’t he have stayed on Vulcan? Jim lamented. Spock was already on edge about the clone and about his future in Starfleet. The last thing his First Officer needed was his father snooping around, trying to figure out why Spock needed his medical records.

He took a deep breath and composed himself as he turned the final corner.

“Shit,” he hissed, backing up as the doors slid open and revealed a Vulcan figure that was definitely not the ambassador or one of the Vulcan delegates. He peeked around the corner, watching with relief as Spock turned in the other direction.

Heading back to his own quarters before dinner, Jim thought. He waited a few minutes, more aware than ever that his best friend had excellent hearing and could recognize the sound of his gait from an impressively long distance.

Jim let out a deep breath and finally made his way over to Sarek’s quarters, his heart beating wildly in his chest from the anxiety and excitement the last hour had induced in him. Just as Jim was preparing to make his presence known, the doors slid open, much to his amazement, and Sarek’s voice called out.

“Come in, Captain.”

Jim blinked for a few moments before shaking off his surprise and following the instructions.

“Ambassador,” Jim said respectfully as he entered. Sarek was standing in front of the small table included with the suite’s dinette, sorting through what looked to be several pill bottles. “It was…a pleasant surprise to see you today.”

“My son would disagree with your assessment,” the man said in return, still facing the table.

For all that Spock favored his Vulcan heritage, Jim found the father an enigma. The small physical and verbal clues that Jim often depended upon to read beneath the surface of Spock’s logical veneer were achingly absent, and Jim wondered how much they took the signs of Spock’s humanity for granted.

“Spock…” Jim began, wondering what he could possibly say to downplay the situation.

“You need not offer me meaningless platitudes, Captain,” Sarek cut him off, finally turning around. Jim studied the strong features—the alien eyes, strong cheekbones, and thick brows—for a hint of what the other man was thinking, but nothing could be detected. Sarek truly was the Vulcan ideal, at least in Jim’s estimation, and he could only imagine how Spock would feel, growing up with such a man.

“No, of course not,” Jim said after a long moment of deliberation. “Can I ask why you’ve come?”

“I came to see my son,” Sarek said, his head tilting to the side as he raised a brow.

There it was, Jim thought with some relief. The echo of Spock was heard loud and clear in that simple gesture, and Jim wondered if Sarek had done it to put him at ease.

“It looks like you saw him just now,” Jim said, raising his brows. “What was your verdict?”

“He is physically well,” Sarek conceded. “But there is much he is hiding from me. I preferred to have the conversation about his well-being in person considering our long estrangement. Arranging for the Enterprise to escort the Vulcan representatives and joining the delegation was a simple matter.”

“…oh,” Jim said with a small frown, wondering how ordering Starfleet to alter the course of their flagship for a personal conversation could be considered a ‘simple’ matter.

“I still have many connections in the Federation, Kirk,” Sarek said. There was no change in expression, of course there wasn’t, but Jim couldn’t shake the feeling that there was some smugness in that statement.

“I see,” Jim said slowly. “Sarek, if I could make a request… please don’t tell Spock about our conversation. We’ve already, ah, had a disagreement about reaching out to you and Amanda.”

“Very well,” Sarek agreed with a slight nod. There seemed to be something like understanding in his eyes, though it was gone in the blink of an eye.

“Right,” Kirk sighed. “Shall we head down to dinner then, or will you be needing more time?”

“Now is acceptable,” Sarek said. “I would like a chance to speak with Dr. McCoy.”

“Dr. McCoy should be there already,” Jim offered. “From what I’ve gathered, he’s interested in asking a few questions about your recovery.”

“I had thought as much,” Sarek said. “I was very impressed by his performance during my last visit. Let us leave immediately.”

Another difference between father and son, Jim thought with amusement as they left Sarek’s quarters together.

It was shaping up to be a more interesting mission than he’d originally anticipated, though that was a common enough occurrence. Jim could only hope that this mission wasn’t a repeat of the last mission with Sarek. Certainly the interpersonal drama between the former ambassador to Vulcan and his first officer would be bad enough.

“Jim,” McCoy greeted before turning his head and nodding at the other figure. “Ambassador. It’s good to see you looking well.”

“Likewise, doctor,” Sarek said in return as he offered up his hand in the Vulcan salute. McCoy thought about attempting his own salute for a moment before abandoning the idea.

“So, what brings you onboard, ambassador?” McCoy asked as he brought his whiskey glass up to his lips for a small sip. “From what I can gather no one was expecting you.”

The Vulcan tilted his head and took a moment to answer, “It is my custom to participate in the annual Peace Summit. Though my health is not what it once was, my doctors and I see no harm in continuing the tradition this year, despite my retirement.”

“Well, can’t argue with that,” McCoy said with a raise of his brows. “If you don’t mind though, I’d like to have you down in medbay sometime this week. Just to monitor the situation.”

“That sounds perfectly acceptable,” Sarek said, rather quickly in McCoy’s estimation. He glanced at Jim and almost broke out into a smile at the slightly panicked look on the other man’s face.

Jim needs to have a better poker face around his future in-laws, McCoy chuckled to himself.

There was only a small chance that Spock’s father was aware of the… situation they had going on. And even if he did, it wasn’t like they kept the incubator out in the open. It was amazing how pleasant the father was compared to the son though. If he’d asked to check up on Spock after performing major surgery on the man, he was pretty sure their dear first officer would tell him to shove it where the sun didn’t shine. In a perfectly logical manner, of course.

“Well, let’s all have a seat. I think everything’s nearly ready,” Kirk said, his eyes darting around the room, most likely looking for the first officer in question. Sarek nodded at them both and seated himself next to one of his colleagues, an older woman with an up-do to rival Spock’s ex-wife.

McCoy turned to Jim, just about to ask him where they should sit when the doors slid open. A familiar lanky figure stepped inside followed by the rest of the stragglers, both Vulcan and Starfleet.

“Well, look at what the cat dragged in,” McCoy drawled as Spock walked up to them. The man looked more uptight than McCoy had ever seen him, which was impressive, but Spock only gave him a pinched look of mild exasperation.

“Doctor, I must speak with you later,” Spock said, pointedly not looking at his father, but McCoy caught his meaning quickly enough.

“Alright, Spock,” McCoy said languidly. “I know you’re eager for your yearly checkup, but no need to get snippy with me.”

It was an indication of how upset the Vulcan must have been by his father’s appearance, and possibly the presence of so many of his fellows, that he only narrowed his eyes at McCoy before sitting down at the table, an empty seat next to him that was clearly meant for the captain.

“Go easy on him, Bones,” Jim said, clapping him lightly on the shoulder before he followed his pet hobgoblin.

“Go easy on him, he says,” McCoy muttered to himself. He mosied his way over to the table, one of the last, and sat between Scotty and a Vulcan. Of the three male Vulcans in the delegation, this was the youngest, and McCoy only hoped that it would make him an interesting conversation partner.

“Welcome again to the Enterprise,” Jim began his speech once all the chatter had died down. He stood at the head of the oval table and looked at them all with his usual warm affability. McCoy thought it was wasted on the Vulcans, but he supposed that volunteering to be Vulcan representatives for what was essentially a diplomatic mission meant they were a tolerant lot.

“It’s an honor to have you aboard, and I think I speak for the whole crew when I say we look forward to the showing both Vulcan and Starfleet will make on Restiva V during the summit. Now, let’s eat and get to know one another a little better before our journey begins.”

The Vulcans nodded solemnly in recognition of the honor the captain meant to give them, but as McCoy sipped on his glass of whiskey, he recognized the glint in his neighbors’ eyes. It was the look Spock had whenever he had a question about some human pleasantry, and McCoy wondered which one of them would break and ask first.

The young Vulcan seated next to him was the winner, and as McCoy picked at his brightly colored food cube, the man leaned to the side and addressed him.

“It is rather curious,” the man began, his face set in the same mild expression as most Vulcans, though his voice had a pleasant quality to it. “That the captain saw it necessary to welcome us aboard when he had done so already. Is this the usual practice among humans?”

McCoy raised a brow at the man, the Vulcan’s expression strangely earnest. The man was younger than Spock, though McCoy often found it difficult to guess Vulcan ages, and his cropped, black hair curled around the pointed tips of his ears.

“Well, sometimes we repeat ourselves,” McCoy explained with a shrug. “The more we say a phrase or share a sentiment, the more emphasis it has.”

“It sounds like an imprecise way to communicate,” the Vulcan said, though the plain, open look on the young man’s face made it feel less an insult and more an observation.

“It can be,” McCoy admitted. “But it works for us. You’ll probably hear a few more people welcome you aboard as you meet with them, but it should stop by tomorrow.”

“Thank you for the information,” the man said solemnly. “And may I ask your name? I am called Sevel.”

“Oh yes, sorry about that,” McCoy apologized. “McCoy, Leonard McCoy. Chief Medical Officer.”

“It is good to make your acquaintance,” Sevel said, and McCoy had to suppress a grin at the clearly practiced ‘human’ greeting. “I am the junior presenter for the VSA. My area of study is mechanical engineering.”

“Engineering, is it?” McCoy asked, turning his head slightly to see if Scotty was paying any attention. From the intense conversation he was having with the pretty Ensign on his other side, he was guessing that Scotty would be useless to him the whole night. “Well, I’m sure our engineers would be interested in picking your brain.”

The curious tilt of the other man’s head nearly made McCoy burst out in laughter. “I mean, they’d be interested in talking to you.”

“I see,” Sevel said softly. “I am interested in talking with Starfleet’s engineers as well. I was actually considering a post with Starfleet, though I would like to gather more information first.”

“You’re in the right place then,” McCoy said.

“That much is obvious,” came the reply, though not from the young man sitting next to him.

Instead, McCoy glanced up and noticed two other Vulcans staring at them from across the table. One had dark hair, styled in the short utilitarian cut that most Vulcans seemed to prefer, while the man sitting next to him had curly blonde hair that had grown nearly to his shoulders. It was a damn strange sight to see, but McCoy couldn’t think of a logical way to comment on the oddity.

“It is human custom to voice easily observable facts to make idle conversation,” the blonde said to his companion, his dark eyes flickering from Sevel to McCoy in a way that made him uncomfortable.

“Very strange,” the first man replied, his dark brows furrowing as he picked at his food.

“Uh-huh,” McCoy said. “Well, Sevel, seems like you have a lot to occupy yourself with on this trip.”

“Yes,” Sevel agreed carefully, eyes darting from McCoy to the two older Vulcans. “This will be my first trip to the Annual Federation Peace Summit. I am looking forward to participating, in addition to learning from the great variety of unique cultures gathered there.”

“Yes, it is a good experience for a young Vulcan,” the blonde commented. “Perhaps you will expose yourself to a greater variety of career options while you are there too.”

“I plan to cultivate multiple options, Romar,” Sevel acknowledged with a nod of his head. “It is only logical.”

“Indeed,” the dark-haired Vulcan said. “And it would be wise for a colonist such as yourself to choose carefully.”

“Colonist?” McCoy asked as he tried to keep his temper in check. “You’re not from Vulcan, Sevel?”

“No,” Sevel said with a shake of his head. “I was born on the colony of N’Keth. I completed my studies five years ago and then applied for the Vulcan Science Academy.”

“That’s quite an accomplishment from what I understand,” McCoy said, eyes darting to the other Vulcans.

“Indeed,” the dark-haired Vulcan interjected. “Though not a high enough honor for some.”

“Tavek, it is unwise to speak of such things in present company,” Romar admonished his companion. Tavek lowered his head in apology and raised his hand, his middle and pointer finger outstretched.

McCoy raised an eyebrow as he watched Romar mirror the gesture and the two touched fingers. It looked incredibly intimate, and McCoy was reminded of the other time he’d witnessed such a scene.

“Huh, I saw Ambassador Sarek and his wife do that,” McCoy commented, hoping that his trepidation wasn’t too obvious to the small group of Vulcans. “What’s it mean?”

“A show of affection between a bonded couple,” Romar answered, a lightly colored brow raised delicately. “I take it that you have not been in the company of many Vulcans.”

“Not really,” McCoy readily admitted. “Mostly just Spock, and then his father during the mission to Babel. So you two are married then?”

“Yes, Romar and I are bonded,” Tavek said. “Is it unusual for two males to bond in human society?”

“No, no,” McCoy said. “It’s just that… well, I guess it never came up. Spock’s a private person, and he doesn’t really talk about himself that much.”

“I see,” was all that Tavek said.

The looks that all three Vulcans directed down the table toward Spock and Jim got his hackles up, but McCoy didn’t think he could address the topic again and remain polite. So, instead he turned back to Sevel and questioned the friendlier Vulcan about his career. Once he’d peeled himself away from flirting, Scotty joined the conversation, taking a shine to young Sevel as McCoy thought he would.

It gave him an excuse to take a step back from the conversation as he considered the bonded couple across from him…the bonded male couple.

I wonder if Jim knows about that, McCoy thought to himself. The topic hadn’t come up very often, but when it did, both men were of the opinion that Vulcan society probably thought same-sex marriage was illogical. Seems we were both wrong. I guess even Vulcans marry based on personal preference. Heaven forbid they admit to loving their spouse though.

McCoy couldn’t see the appeal to marrying in the Vulcan way, though Lady Amanda seemed happy enough. He imagined Jim could find happiness in such a union, but only if the two concerned parties managed to pull their heads out of their asses. Either way, he couldn’t wait to share his new intelligence with a certain Starfleet captain. At the very least, it couldn’t make the current situation between them any worse.