Title: Terminus
Author: Judith Gran <Judygran@aol.com>
Series: TOS
Romance Code: K/S
Rating: NC-17
Summary: At the end of the five-year mission, Kirk and Spock find opposition
within Starfleet to the idea of their serving together in starship command
positions in the future. Nogura has his own plans for Kirk, and takes a dim
view of Kirk's and Spock's relationship. But the lover's own different needs
and desires are the greatest challenge of all.



                   TERMINUS
                by Judith Gran

     Copyright 1997 by Judith A. Gran. This is an original work
of amateur fiction based on Star Trek. It makes transformative use
of Star Trek and is intended only for noncommercial purposes. This
work makes "fair use" of Star Trek copyrighted material; it is not
intended to infringe on the intellectual property rights of
Paramount, Viacom or other owners of copyright in Star Trek or
any of their assignees or licensees. The author's copyright extends
only to the original material in this work. 

     Promptly at 1000 hours, Commanding Admiral Heihachiro
Nogura called the holocom conference to order. The images of the
other six members of the General Staff already had solidified in his
office; each held copies of the material for today's meeting.
     Admiral Sengumba materialized directly across from
Nogura--*a harbinger of impending confrontation?* Nogura
wondered. Tall, black and bristling with impatience, like a lion
wanting to spring from his chair, the African seemed larger than life
in holographic projection. *An illusion,* Nogura told himself. After
all, he himself had been told that holographs smoothed out the
wrinkles in his own parchment-like skin, emphasized his well-kept
white hair, made him seem slim and courtly rather than merely thin.
But it was uncanny how much of one's personality could be
transmitted through those literal electronic beams. 
     Nogura girded himself for the feat of strategy that lay
ahead: managing today's meeting. Looking around the room, he
counted votes: Rao and Krasnovsky, with him; Sengumba and
Mendez, against; Yuval and Abd al-Hamid--wavering. Deliberately,
he picked up the agenda and, after a perfunctory greeting, directed
the other admirals' attention to the first item: "*U.S.S. Enterprise,*
post-Five-Year-Mission assignment."
     No sooner had Nogura finished reciting the topic when
Sengumba spoke, objecting to the arrangement of the agenda.
"Admiral, I question why you have asked us to discuss the
deployment of the *Enterprise* without first resolving the issue of
our policy toward long-term space exploration."
     Nogura frowned as Mendez nodded agreement. He'd set the
agenda for today's meeting precisely to *avoid* a discussion of the
future of the long-term exploratory missions. He feared he could
not carry a majority of the Staff with him if the vote were taken
today. He thought it more strategically sound to postpone the
decision until after the *Enterprise,* the symbol of the five-year
mission, had been locked safely into another assignment, But
perhaps he'd have to confront the issue squarely after all.
     "Gentlemen, it would be premature to debate the policy
issue today," Nogura said crisply, "not before we have analyzed the
outcomes of the first five-year mission. Without that analysis, we
cannot commit ourselves to a further long-term mission."
     Jose Mendez drew a report out of the hard-copy folder he
held on his lap. "I'd have thought," he said drily, "that with these
materials we could make a reasonably educated decision. We've
read your own cost-benefit analysis of the current mission--" he
held up a thick document--"and now we have Captain Kirk's own
final report on the mission's accomplishments." He tapped an even
thicker report. "I believe we're all prepared to proceed with
discussion of these materials."
     "The two perspectives balance each other nicely," Nur
Yuval added deferentially, a bit too deferentially for Nogura's
satisfaction.
     "Quite,"Mendez nodded. "Your report concludes that the
five-year mission has been an expensive frill, while Kirk's concludes
just the opposite."
     Nogura felt a surge of irritation. How unfortunate that
Kirk's articulate, carefully worded report had arrived last week,
well in advance of the final debriefing when it was actually due.
Nogura had just put together his own comprehensive analysis
demonstrating, in elaborate matrices of figures, that the costs of the
five-year mission had far exceeded its tangible benefits. He was sure
that Kirk had known, or guessed, what his own report was
designed to prove. For Kirk had had his own science staff produce
elegant mathematical models that, in essence, quantified the
substantial non-material benefits that the five-year mission already
had produced for the Federation, and sophisticated equations
projecting significant economic gains from the *Enterprise*'s
discoveries in the future.
     The soft, gutteral voice of Admiral Promila Rao broke the
silence. "In view of the disparity between the conclusions of the
General Staff Office and those of Captain Kirk's crew, I suggest this
the discussion be postponed until after the *Enterprise* debrieifng.
That will give us a chance to go over Kirk's analysis with a
fine-toothed comb," she said smoothly.
     Nogura shot the aristocratic Brahmin a look of disguised
gratitude. 
     Sengumba was frowning. "The Federation Assembly is
going to vote on next year's Starfleet appropriation in another three
weeks," he said testily. "The bill barely made it through the Armed
Services Committee, and the opposition nearly has the votes to
emasculate it on the floor. We need Captain Kirk's report as
ammunition for our supporters during the final debates. Kirk's data,
which show that the mission has had significant non-material
benefits, bolster the case for the appropriation the Defense Ministry
has asked for Starfleet next fiscal year, while *your* report--" he
looked coldly at Nogura--"only helps make the case against us.
We've argued to the legislature that Starfleet is a benign exploratory
force, committed to alien contact. Announcing our decision to
renew the five-year mission *now,* before the vote is taken, will
vastly improve our credibility."
     Nogura squirmed. The sturdy African served as the General
Staff's legislative liaison, and his analysis of the situation in the
Assembly carried considerable weight with the other admirals.
Nogura knew Assembly politics as well as Sengumba, but he
composed his features and tried a bluff.
     "The Coalition is a strong supporter of Starfleet," he said
blandly, "Commodore Ciani has represented us most effectively to
the New Humans. I don't anticipate any opposition from that
direction."
     But Abd al-Hamid was gesturing in Sengumba's direction,
trying to get his attention. "Are you suggesting that the New
Humans may split with the rest of the Coalition on the
appropriations vote?"
     Sengumba nodded emphatically. "Yes. The New Humans
are quite vulnerable to their opponents on the left--the Interstellar
Harmony group, the Focus on Universal Peace people, the Friends
of All Life Forms, the other splinter groups. The New Humans
claim to be anti-militarist, and the opposition enjoys playing on the
theme that Starfleet is an outmoded, militaristic fossil that is
retarding the development of an interstellar, trans-Federation
civilization."
     Again, Mendez was nodding his agreement. So was Yuval.
     Nogura leaned backed in his chair in annoyance. He felt
impatient with his colleagues' sentimental attraction to the romantic
appeal of space exploration. "In three weeks, gentlemen, the
*Enterprise* herself will be back in Earth orbit. Its very presence
will impact on public opinion. The effect on the Federation
Assembly will be far more powerful than any announcement we can
make. I suggest that we take full advantage of the symbolic value of
the *first* five-year mission, before we commit ourselves to vast
expenditures on the basis of speculation that it will win us a few
votes in the legislature."
     Sengumba looked unimpressed, Yuval and Mendez openly
skeptical. Even the mild Abd al-Hamid looked puzzled. "Explain,"
he asked Nogura.
     Nogura was annoyed that the discussion had drifted so far
from the plan he had so carefully composed. He leaned back again
and took a deep breath. "I am convinced that if we do as Admiral
Sengumba suggests and send the *Enterprise* off into space on
another five-year mission, the ship and its crew will disappear from
public attention with the same speed as the ship. We'll be left with
nothing--beyond a temporary propaganda gain--and we'll be
committed to financing another five-year mission, whether we can
afford it or not. On the other hand, if we keep the *Enterprise* here
for a while, with the ship and key members of the crew performing
appropriate symbolic functions, it will be an enormously effective
advertisement for Starfleet."
     Abd al-Hamid still looked uncertain, and Nogura began to
fear that he would not find his majority this morning. "Admiral, a
significant body of public opinion considers that the Five-Year
Mission is virtually the *only* thing of value Starfleet has done in
the last five years. I'm not sure any symbolism will affect that." 
     "If we let the *Enterprise* do our PR for us," Nogura
countered stubbornly, "We'll get more public support than if we
sent the whole fleet on a five-year mission."
     Abd al-Hamid's round face was still skeptical. "I'm afraid of
taking a chance and being proven wrong," he said.
     Intuitively, Nogura knew that he'd be outvoted if he
continued to press the issue. Sengumba's political savvy had
impressed his colleagues. Whatever the other Admirals' opinions
might be on the merits of another five-year mission, they appeared
convinced that it was politically expedient to let the legislature think
they supported the concept. 
     Nogura paused a short moment to stifle a small inner qualm
before he resolved to play his trump card. He his not relish playing
dirty pool, nor did he enjoy trespassing in another Staff member's
domain. Only when the stakes were as high as they were here, and
only when he was utterly convinced he was right, as he was now,
did he allow his inner streak of ruthlessness to override professional
courtesy.
     "All right. In any event, we'll be refitting the *Enterprise*
when she docks. Mission or not mission, she's going to be our test
starship for the new design specs."
     Nogura smiled to himself as he saw smiles all 'round. *This*
decision inspired no controversy. His adrenaline rose in
anticipation. "Admiral Mendez, when will Design Engineering have
the plans completed?"
     Mendez's answer was routine, almost automatic. "In six
weeks, sir, as scheduled."
     Nogura tapped a button on his hand-held computer  "Admiral, I
have here a report from a member of your staff, Commodore
D'Amico, a specialist in phaser design The report was submitted to
me in confidence, but I'd like you to look at it and give me your
reaction."
     Mendez looked startled. "D'Amico? He paused a moment
while Nogura transmitted the file to him electronically. When he
finished reading it on the small device he held in his hand, his face
was aghast. "Admiral, this is D'Amico's own personal opinion. The
other designers have agreed--"
     Firmly, Nogura interrupted. "According to D'Amico, major
problems exist in the powering of the ship's phaser banks that still
have not been resolved. He recommends that we not proceed until
they are resolved, and I quite agree with him."
     Mendez was stunned, then angry. Nogura hardly blamed
him. Ordinarily, he would have checked with Mendez first before
even contemplating a discussion like this in the full General Staff
meeting. Going over a colleagues' head went against the grain with
him. But the report was a handy weapon, and he had no scruples
about using it in these circumstances.
     "Admiral," Mendez said heatedly. "This question was settled
in our department long ago. The other designers rejected D'Amico's
proposal for increasing phaser power by channeling it through the
warp engines; they considered it far too dangerous. D'Amico has
remained a minority of one in the department. The other designers
are proceeding with the detailed specifications on schedule."
     "Nevertheless, Admiral," Nogura interjected smoothly, "He
makes a very convincing argument. He brought it to my attention
because he knows that I am very concerned about our overall
weapons capability via a vis the Klingons. D'Amico's proposal
would enormously increase the efficiency of our phasers, and I
believe that it deserves serious attention."
     Mendez looked uncomfortable. D'Amico was a specialist in
phaser bank design, he was not. If he'd had warning of this, he
could have gotten material together from other members of his
staff, but as it was ....
     Nogura had the other admirals' full attention now. "All I
ask, gentleman," he said softly, his eyes sweeping around the circle,
"is that we give the phaser design issue the attention it deserves."
     Mendez wriggled in his chair. Nogura  was pleased to see
the looks of embarrassment not only on Mendez's face, but on
Yuval's and Sengumba's as well. He pressed his advantage.
     "I think it's obvious that we must delay readying the new
design plans while we reconsider the phaser bank problem. It will
take twelve months to refit the ship as it is. And if we have to keep
the *Enterprise* idling in orbit for six, nine months, or even a year
while we wait for the designers--well, not only would that be
prohibitively expensive, it would be extremely embarrassing as well.
Public proof of our inability to meet our own deadlines. We simply
cannot risk a public image of incompetence to add to our other
problems."
     Mendez looked stricken, and privately Nogura felt sorry for
him. Jose was perfectly competent in running his own department,
and D'Amico was an eccentric prima donna who didn't know how
to let a pet idea drop. Nogura knew that he had taken unfair
advantage of a minor disagreement among Jose's staff that the other
admiral had probably handled rather well. 
     The arguments in favor of the alternative phaser bank design
appealed to Nogura personally, though he understood perfectly well
why the other designers had rejected it. But, fortunately, that wasn't
the issue now, and for now he was satisfied. He knew he'd won his
battle to keep the *Enterprise* where he wanted her.
     "What are we going to do with the *Enterprise* until the
designs are completed?" asked Admiral Krasnovski. We can hardly
send the symbol of the peaceful exploratory mission off to patrol
the Klingon borders."
     Nogura rarely smiled, but he almost beamed at his Russian
colleague. Now he knew he had the group where he wanted them.
He leaned forward in his chair. "Actually, gentlemen, I do have an
interim measure for the *Enterprise* in mind ...."
     The others looked at him expectantly. Even Mendez would
accept almost any suggestion that would get him off the hook.
     "The Academy wants to upgrade its space flight training
program," Nogura began, "and they've asked us to arrange an
opportunity for their cadets to train aboard a Constitution-class
starship. Naturally, with only twelve starships in the fleet, that's not
been possible to arrange. But if the *Enterprise* were to be
available for, say, nine months prior to refitting, we could assign her
temporarily--for a couple of academic terms--to the Academy. The
costs would come out of the Academy's budget, which would save
us money. The *Enterprise* crew would probably
consider the assignment a well-earned vacation after a long tour of
duty. And it would have important symbolic value for us."
     Abd al-Hamid looked enthusiastic. He was a former
Starfleet instructor, and Nogura had been sure he'd support the
idea.
     "We can consider the future of the long-term mission,"
Nogura went on smoothly, "after debrieifng, and--" he shot a look
at Mendez, who shrank back in his chair--"*after* the designs are
completed."
     None of the six raised a dissenting voice. Nogura felt a
small flutter of relief when Sengumba asked, "What about the
senior officers? Surely it would waste their valuable time to keep
them on the ship for nine months to train cadets."
     Nogura nodded, the tension ebbing from his stomach, for
Sengumba's question fed into his next announcement as smoothly as
if he'd planned it that way.
     "I agree. Besides, all of them are overdue for promotion.
We'll need to fill the post of Starfleet Operations when we split up
Operations and Personnel"--that was Krasnovski's
department--"and I think Kirk himself would be ideal for the job.
Perhaps with the rank of Rear Admiral."
     A few murmurs of surprise met his announcement, but no
disagreement. Kirk was well-respected among the General Staff;
Mendez and Abd al-Hamid knew and liked him personally, and
Sengumba, Nogura's major opponent on the General Staff, had
often his admiration for the young starship commander. 
     Nogura smiled inwardly in grim satisfaction. He'd known
they'd react this way when he'd planned his strategy: Ground Kirk,
and call it an honor.
     "In any case," Nogura continued, deceptively calm,
"Admiral Krasnovski's department can give us its recommendations
for the *Enterprise* officer corps ...I have just one further thought,
and that concerns Commander Spock. I believe that he would be an
excellent choice to head the new research center that Starfleet and
the Department of Stellar Research are setting up on the Outer
Rim. He is a superb administrator and a truly fine and original
scientist. I can think of no one who's better qualified for this very
demanding position."
     Krasnovski was making hurried notes. "Excellent idea,
Admiral, excellent," he beamed.
     Mendez lifted an eyebrow in mild surprise. Nogura sensed Jose
still felt chastised. "Why split up the best team in Starfleet?" he
asked.
     Krasnovski shot him a look of barely-concealed distaste.
Nogura chuckled to himself. Krasnovsky was a born organization
man, with the soul of a Soviet bureaucrat. A slogan like "the best
team in Starfleet" had little meaning for him. If anything he
distrusted the close interpersonal ties that often developed on long
tours of duty. Just as Nogura did, he regarded them as potentially
threatening to an officer's loyalty to Starfleet.
     It was enough, however, to reply to Mendez, "Surely you
will agree that Commander Spock has been overqualified for the
position of starship First Officer for some time. I'd like to see him in
a post that truly will challenge his considerable abilities."
     And then he smoothly directed their attention to the next
item on the agenda.
           ***********************
     At that moment, approximately 107.4 light years away from
Earth, it was precisely 0628 hours ship's time on the starship
*Enterprise.* One of the objects of the Admirals's discussion had
arisen at his customary hour and was attempting, as was also his
custom, to meditate. Normally he found the task easy enough. But
this morning he was not in his own quarters, and no firepot rested
nearby to help him focus his thoughts inward.
     Moreover, he found the figure sprawled next to him on the
bed, still deep in a happy slumber if one were to judge from the
smiling curve of the lips, quite distracting. His companion was lying
on his back, one leg bent, one arm across his chest and the other
reaching vaguely out in Spock's direction. Spock had spent all night
in the curve of that arm, and the memory of that closeness still
lingered warm and bright, in his chest and belly and the corners of
his mind even as he tried to concentrate.
     Suddenly his companion woke up. His face softened into an
open smile as he saw Spock looking down at him
     "Thanks for staying," Kirk whispered.
     Spock nodded, holding his gaze. Then, although he had not
really planned to, he sank down to the bed again into Kirk's
arms--stretched out full-length against him. How good it was to feel
the sleepy early-morning softness of his body, to inhale the rich
scent of his skin, as warm and sweet as fresh-baked bread. He felt
such peace, such a sense of order in the universe ....
     His companion stirred and reluctantly loosened his arms. "I
suppose we'd better get up."
     "I should return to my quarters."
     "Stay for breakfast."
     "No, it would be better if I--"
     Kirk squeezed his shoulder confidently, as if to still his
twinge of doubt. "I can think of several things I'd like to talk over
with my First Officer over breakfast," he smiled as he rolled into a
sitting position. "Why don't I get us both breakfast from the mess
hall, while you see if you can find that change of clothes you
assured me you'd never need ...."
     "Very well," Spock replied, stifling a twitch of the mouth
that threatened to become a smile.
     He busied himself gathering his things together while Kirk
showered. The change of uniform he located easily enough, though
he had to hunt under the bed for one of his boots ... strange, he did
not usually disrobe so carelessly .... He looked up from the floor to
see Kirk giving him an appreciative smile as he left for the mess
hall.
     When Spock emerged from the shower, Kirk was setting
out breakfast dishes on his desk. Spock's body was still relaxed in
the deep physical contentment of love-making, and the pleasant
mingling of early-morning smells enhanced his sense of well-being.
Fragrant steaming coffee and spicy tea, the warm toasty odor of hot
buttered muffins, Jim's clean scent of fresh-cut grass and lime.... He
noted from the corner of his eye as he brushed his hair in front of
the mirror that both breakfasts were vegetarian, and he felt an
irrational surge of pleasure at this small submission
to his own preferences.
     Yet as they began to eat, the unease only half submerged at
the back of his mind began to rise again. It had been so from the
beginning: the joy, the illogical euphoria he always felt with  Kirk
pushed those feelings of doubt out of sight for a time--and then
they would rise again unaided.
     Kirk was studying his face thoughtfully. They had joined
minds the night before, and Kirk surely had glimpsed what was
troubling him. It hardly would be surprising if he could guess his
thoughts now.
     "Spock something was bothering you last night, something I
couldn't quite put my finger on ..." Kirk said at last, putting down
his coffee cup.
     Spock shook his head hesitantly, unsure how to reply.
     "Are you still ... upset ... by what happened in the Beta
Carinae system?"
     It may have been merely a guess, but Spock doubted it. He
returned Kirk's gaze levelly and nodded.
     Kirk looked at him seriously for a long moment. "What you
did *worked.* You took a chance, but it worked. Perhaps you
should stop castigating yourself and congratulate yourself instead."
     Spock sat stiffly, his neck rigid. "I placed the entire ship and
crew in jeopardy."
     "But you got the ship and crew--and me--to safety."
     "As you would say, I was lucky."
     "I thought you didn't believe in luck."
     "I do believe in unforeseen random occurrences."
     Kirk sighed. "Spock, we live with chance every moment of
our lives. None of us would be on this mission if we needed the
odds to be on our side. The important fact is that you *acted*
correctly, regardless of our motives."
     Spock put his hands on his lap; they were threatening to
tremble. "My motive was the emotional one of disproportionate
concern for your safety. As such, it was wrong." his voice was even
stiffer than his rigid body.
     "I know the character of your motives is extremely
important to you--and to other Vulcans -- but that doesn't change
the fact that you made the right decision ...."
     "Jim, the character of  the motivation is just as important to
Humans. Your entire criminal code, for example ..."
     "Blast it, what you did wasn't criminal!" Kirk erupted in a
sudden flash of anger. Spock flinched. And then, his anger gone as
suddenly as it had flared up, Kirk put his head in his hands in
chagrin. "Spock, I'm sorry. I *know* what it means to you to act
illogically. But if I castigated myself like that every time I took the
risk of losing you or the ship or both--"
     "You would be unable to function as ship's commander. I
know that."
     Kirk lifted his head, his chin tilted up. "I'd resign in a minute
if I thought I couldn't handle a relationship--any relationship--and
my command."
     Spock relaxed slightly, knowing he must meet Kirk's candor
with honesty of his own. "I consider you extraordinarily capable of
dealing with both, and I think that is because you have your own,
Human ways of coping with contradictory emotional imperatives.
But perhaps the very balance you have achieved prevents you from
understanding fully how difficult it is for me to manage the same
conflicts."
     Kirk shifted uneasily in his chair, caught off-guard by this
insight. "Look, Spock, you're the logical Vulcan. How can you tell
me an emotional Human can cope where you can't?"
     Spock leaned toward him as though to drive the point
home. "I believe that you cope because your sense of responsibility
to the ship has deep emotional roots. You are able to call on those
strong feelings whenever you are forced to make a command
decision with unpleasant, even tragic consequences for you. I
believe that this is what you did, for example, when you had to let
Edith Keeler die."
     "It was *you* who kept reminding me that her death was
logically imperative."
     "Perhaps I helped by expressing the necessity in words--but
I believe that at some level, you reached the proper emotional
resolution by yourself--and that is what enabled you to act."
     Kirk tried to shake his head in denial, but his eyes betrayed
that Spock's insight had hit its mark. "I'm not sure I would have,
without your disinterested logic. Spock, dammit, that's why I
admire you--your objectivity, your ability to control the emotions
that lead all of us Humans, and me especially, into selfish errors...."
     "I am not sure that 'control' is the proper term," Spock told
him. "We Vulcans *suppress* our emotions, but I am not sure that
we *control* them."
     Kirk shrugged. "Is there really any difference in practice?"
     Spock nodded slowly and emphatically. "As a Vulcan, you
must remember, I've been trained neither to integrate logic and
emotion, nor to balance different emotional drives against one
another, as you are able to do."
     Kirk squared his shoulders, still uncomfortable with what
Spock was saying. "Look, Spock, it's not all that easy for me,
either. In fact, it's one hell of a strain. Frankly, I'm looking forward
to taking a vacation from it at the end of this mission. I know I'm
going to enjoy the break. From making love to you one minute and
ordering you into danger the next. From having to worry whether I
can safely leave the ship in someone else's hands so I can spend a
few minutes alone with you. From never having any place to go
that's really private. If I had only my own subjective judgment to
rely on, I might not be so sure I *am* coping."
     "Yet you seem confident that you are," Spock noted.
     Kirk took another sip of coffee and shrugged. "That's what
McCoy's psych profiles say. I've had him check them out regularly
during the last six months."
     Six months was how long they had been lovers.
     Kirk put his cup down, folded his hands and continued. "Two
weeks ago, he ran a compete Robbiana Dermal-Optic, and he said
the results were fine. You know McCoy's always telling us it's the
objective measure of emotional health he has. He told me he thinks
I'm actually coping *better* with the stress of command than I did
previously."
     Spock raised an eyebrow, but he was inwardly unsurprised.
McCoy's tests confirmed what he himself knew from his
mind-melds with Jim. But he added, wanting to take the issue to its
logical conclusion. "Yet you say you do feel stress because of your
relationship with me."
     Kirk thought a moment, looking down at his folded hands.
"Yes, I do. But paradoxically, perhaps, McCoy thinks it's not a
pathological stress. He claims it's somehow functional to my overall
ego resolution, that balancing contradictory emotional drives is sort
of what keeps me going. And that it's an intensification of conflicts
I've always felt ... between caring about the people under my
command on the one hand and needing to drive them on the other.
He thinks I may burn out before I'm fifty, but that I'll go down in
good emotional health." A corner of his mouth curved wryly. "I'm
not sure that's such an enviable prognosis, but I think he's probably
right."
     Spock nodded agreement. "So do I."
     Kirk raised his eyes to Spock's, suddenly curious. "Hasn't
McCoy been running the same tests on you, Spock? Certainly, he's
never mentioned anything amiss."
     Spock paused a moment so that he could phrase his answer
with precision. "So far as McCoy can tell, the results are within
normal parameters. However, the tests he employs were not
developed for Vulcans. I therefore have no assurance that his
results are conclusive, especially when I myself do not feel that I am
handling the situation constructively."
     It was clear from the look on Kirk's expressive face that he
realized the importance of what Spock was saying. Knowing Kirk
was well as he did, Spock could tell that he was already, at some
level of his mind, contemplating the full implications of what Spock
was telling him. Yet at the same time that he was subliminally
carrying the idea to its logical conclusion, he was also sparring with
it, confronting it with all his natural aggressive resistance to a
notion that stood in the way of something he deeply wanted. "Do
you think McCoy can help you with this at all?"
     "No." Spock's response was quick and definite. "He cannot,
for the same reason his psychometric instruments cannot detect my
emotional imbalance. Only a trained Vulcan healer with a Vulcan's
telepathic abilities could diagnose and treat my dysfunction."
     "Does that mean you *could* be treated by a Vulcan?"
     "It is probable," Spock conceded with a slight nod. "Vulcan
psychiatric techniques are much more effective with us than Human
ones, since they are based on direct mental contact with the
subconscious strata of the mind. I have concluded I must consult a
Vulcan specialist when the mission is over."
     Kirk's face was an uneasy mixture of hope and
disappointment. "Does that mean ... that you'll need to spend a long
time on Vulcan after we reach home?" he asked warily.
     Spock shook his head. "Unlike Human psychiatry, Vulcan
techniques are not particularly time-consuming. Our healers can
accomplish in a month or two what would take years for a Human
practitioner."
     "Well, that's good to know," Kirk smiled in obvious relief.
     "Yes. But Jim--" There was an edge of roughness, of
anxiety in Spock's voice, "it is imperative that I achieve some
resolution of the problem before we serve another tour of duty
together."
     Kirk sighed morosely, his face mirroring contradictory
emotions. "I can see your logic, Spock, and I'm trying to accept it.
But right now, the biggest question is whether there's even going to
*be* another tour of duty."
     Spock lifted his face, surprised. "I see no reason to predict
otherwise. Our mission has been successful beyond all Starfleet's
initial expectations."
     "Well, the General Staff's got some new members now, a
new Commanding Admiral, and they may see it differently. From
what I've heard of Admiral Nogura, he's a Terran chauvinist who
thinks Starfleet's only purpose is Federation security and higher
profits for Federation  corporations."
     "Our report shows that our achievements on this mission
will bring important economic and security benefits to the
Federation in the future."
     "They'll poke holes in our report."
     Spock bridled. "The calculations were all made to the
highest possible degree of certainty. The margin of error in my
calculations is, in essence, negligible. Given the same data base, I
do not see how ...."
     Kirk smiled at him fondly. "Your mathematical modeling
was brilliant, Spock. That's why I had the report completed and
sent in early. I know that the work you did is fifty times better and
more convincing than anything Nogura's staff can come up with.
But the decision will be made on the basis of politics--not logic."
     "Indeed," Spock acknowledged, raising both eyebrows this
time.
     They sat a moment in silent rapport, while Spock pondered
the basic irrationality of Humans. Then Kirk returned to their
original subject as they cleared the breakfast dishes and prepared to
leave for the bridge. 
     "We'll talk about your problem later, Spock. I admit it's
taking me some time to digest--" he shook his head ruefully. " I
know that acting from emotion is shameful to a Vulcan ..."
     "I am not ashamed of my feelings for you, Jim."
     "I know you're not, but ..." Kirk clenched his fists as though
trying to keep a rein on his own strong feelings. "I guess I'm a little
surprised because I thought--I suppose, I just assumed that you'd
finally accepted that you're half-Human, that you have Human
emotions, and that inevitably you're going to act on those
emotions."
     "I do accept those facts, Jim. What you must understand is
that this recognition is not the end of my problem, but the
beginning."
           ************************
     In the few weeks that remained before their final return to
Earth, Kirk and Spock had little time to talk. Although every
department's final report had been submitted well in advance, to be
incorporated into Kirk's final report on the Five-Year Mission to
the General Staff, Kirk refused to allow himself or the crew to
relax. He literally prowled the ship, investigating every nook and
cranny, seeing that all was ship-shape, that no loose ends were left
untied. 
     Kirk would personally inspect every tape and micro-circuit
of the *Enterprise* if he could, Spock thought. The crew would
have found his attention compulsive, if Kirk had not had the gift of
inspiring others to win his approval by meeting his own standards
of excellence. Spock understood Kirk's  anxiety. The least flaw in
the ship's final condition might be held against him, a handy weapon
to attack the exploratory mission itself. 
     Spock had never fully understood the passions that underlay
Earth politics. In fact, he'd seen relatively little of Earth society
during the four years he'd spent at the Academy. But he had studied
Earth history well and had observed some of its recurring patterns.
     Just before they reached Earth orbit, he and Kirk and
McCoy had a quiet farewell-to-the-*Enterprise* dinner together,
just the three of them, after the more "official" parties were over.
Inevitably, the discussion turned to the changes they expected to
find on Earth.
     "When we left on this mission," McCoy reflected as he
passed the bottle of Bordeaux to Kirk, "the people making
decisions at headquarters were relatively open-minded--at least, as
much as you can expect in a military person ...." He shot a baleful
look at Kirk, who grinned back cheerfully. "From what I've heard,
it's just the opposite now. The new people in the Admiralty are
more interested in increasing a photon torpedo's range by some
fraction of a light-year than in meeting a life form we don't know
about. And aliens--might as well forget about it. They're Terran
chauvinists."
     "Not all of them, Bones," said Kirk, picking up a warm
dinner roll. "Jose Mendez is on the General Staff now, you know." 
     McCoy's gaze turned to one of disapproval as he watched
Kirk spread butter on his roll. Kirk cheerfully ignored him. 
     Spock cut in frostily. "Doctor, the flaw in your analysis is
that you focus on personalities rather than underlying historical and
social processes." He knew that what McCoy was saying was true;
the current Starfleet leadership was unsympathetic to aliens. And
when he examined his own motivation, he suspected that perhaps it
was easier for him to face this unpalatable truth if he could place it
in an impersonal context. "The recent intensification of negative
attitudes toward aliens has obvious economic roots."
     McCoy began to retort sarcastically, but Kirk, eyes
twinkling in anticipation of an entertaining sparring match,
forestalled him. "Explain, Spock."
     "Students of your history," Spock replied, setting down his
fork and smoothing the napkin on his lap, "have noted a pervasive
relationship between politics and economics. On the upswing of an
economic cycle, Humans tend to be expansive, tolerant, and
optimistic--reflecting the abundance of economic opportunities for
all. On the downswing of the cycle, Humans are pessimistic,
conservative, protective of themselves and those they consider their
'own kind.'" His ironic tone placed verbal brackets around the last
phrase. 
     "Are you trying to rationalize prejudice, Mr. Spock?"
McCoy needled him. "Just seems to me some people are prejudiced,
others not. Sometimes I think folks are just *born* prejudiced.
Don't see what economics has to do with it. You don't hate another
person with that credit chip inside your belt, Spock." 
     "No, but it is illogical, even for a Human, to feel prejudice
for no reason," Spock replied evenly. "Prejudice arises from
self-interest, and from fear of competition with outsiders."
     "I think that's true, Bones," Kirk added, putting down his
wine glass. "The five-year mission was launched in a period of
economic prosperity--full employment, high productivity, plenty of
opportunity. Industry supported the mission-- because they believed
we would discover new investment opportunities as well as new
life. And Spock's right--the economic situation--especially on
Earth--*has* changed radically during the last few years. Business
isn't expanding, and people are out of work. I think that's why we'll
find that a lot of the support for space exploration has evaporated."
     "Well, you're probably right, but I was taught that economic
cycles are a relic of history," McCoy replied, attacking his salad.
"Maybe you-all developed an interest in them when you visited the
Great Depression of the 1930s, thanks to my antics with the
Guardian of Forever."
     "Hardly the most serious economic depression in Earth
history, Bones," Kirk said mildly. "Twenty years after the Eugenics
War, for example ...."
     "All right, all right," McCoy rested his salad fork in mild
exasperation. "I'm a doctor, not a historian. I just thought we'd
learned to avoid those kinds of extreme economic dislocations."
     Spock spoke up politely. "It is true that your Earth, and the
worlds it is linked to economically, have overcome stark poverty,
unemployment and massive social dislocation as effects of business
cycles. Nevertheless, your economy seems to rely on unending
expansion as a source of prosperity for all. When expansion halts,
prosperity declines."
     The three men were interrupted temporarily by the arrival of
the main course. "Well, I suppose that some adjustments are always
necessary in any system based on free enterprise," McCoy said
complacently when they resumed their conversation. "But we
Humans, unlike you Vulcans, feel uncomfortable in a rigidly
controlled economy. We value our freedom in economic matters as
we do in all other areas of life."
     Spock favored the ship's doctor with a glacial Vulcan stare.
"The paradox, 
more subject to those forces than you would be if you engaged in
deliberate planning."
     Kirk leaned back, heartily enjoying the fray.
     "Well, I don't know about *that,* McCoy retorted, "But in
any case, Mr. Spock, how do you fit the New Humans into your
analysis? They're not chauvinistic or anti-alien, and they've become
very powerful politically since we left Earth, even part of the
governing Coalition now. How do you account for that?"
     Spock gave a shrug full of Vulcan superiority. "The New
Humans have no desire to participate in the established Earth
economy at all, Doctor. They have their own unique form of social
and economic organization; therefore, aliens are not a threat to
them."
     "And *they're* not a threat to the other people in power,"
Kirk pointed out, pulling his chair closer to the table to attack the
main course. "Which gives them a logical community of interest
with the Federation Party. The Federationists want to keep the
status quo--no further peace initiatives with the Klingons and other
non-Federation powers--and the New Humans have their own
reasons for wanting to leave well enough alone."
     "I believe that is the logic behind the formation of the
Coalition," Spock concurred.
     "It's also significant," Kirk said reflectively, toying with his
fork, "that the New Humans have a basically passive, unworldly
attitude toward society. That's all right with the Federationists. The
New Humans feel the individual really doesn't matter in the larger
scheme of things, so they have little interest in social reforms
designed to benefit individuals."
     "A logical position, given their assumptions," Spock
nodded.
     "Well, they seem like strange bedfellows to me," McCoy
muttered glumly. "A bunch of crazy mystics aligned with industry
and the military. And speaking of bedfellows--" he added, casting a
meaningful look at Kirk, who blushed, divining what was on his
mind, "have you given any thought to how you'll present your ...
relationship ... to Starfleet?"
     Kirk rubbed his chin in a gesture of embarrassment. "We
don't need to "present" them with anything, Bones. Legally, it's
absolutely none of their business.And you know as well as I do that
Starfleet doesn't really give a damn who goes to bed with whom, as
long as they don't do it on the job."
     McCoy stared at him balefully. "Well, those are the rules,
but people tend to be very curious about these things, and a lot of
people aren't as open-minded as you, Jim."
     "I plan to deal with it the same way we do here on the
*Enterprise,* Kirk shrugged. "Not advertise it, not keep it a secret
either."
     McCoy took a long sip of his drink. "At least the part about
its not being a secret is correct."
     Kirk stopped in the middle of raising his fork to his mouth
and looked at McCoy in genuine surprise. "Bones, I doubt that
anyone besides you, Scotty and maybe Uhura even knows.
Hand-holding in public just isn't our style."
     "Tell that to the people I hear gossiping in my waiting
room." 
     Kirk's eyes widened in disbelief and he stared at McCoy for
a few moments. "Of course," he finally admitted, folding his hands
in his lap, "I may have to discuss it with Operations and Personnel,
just in case their computer decides to assign us to opposite ends of
the galaxy." His expression suggested that he considered this an
extremely remote possibility. 
     "I wonder if that would be wise," McCoy murmured. "I
have a feeling you'll find quite a few people at Headquarters who
are not going to be too supportive of your relationship."
     Kirk looked surprised, but he continued eating and made no
comment.
     Spock realized he'd been holding his breath for several
minutes. He let it out unobtrusively. He knew that McCoy spoke
out of deep concern for his two best friends. But the doctor's words
felt like a lead weight dropped to the bottom of his stomach, for he
knew McCoy was right.
     Jim was looking at McCoy thoughtfully, turning over what
he was saying in his mind. As he looked at Kirk's expressive face,
Spock realized with a start what bothered him most about the
conversation: that the possibility of conflict between their
relationship and Starfleet was something Jim was only now
beginning to consider.
       ********************************
     The ride from the debarkation point was short, but it gave
Nogura a chance to scrutinize James Kirk more closely than had
been possible in the glare of the debarkation ceremony, where he
had been on hand to greet the senior officers of the *Enterprise* as
they'd stepped out of the shuttlecraft *Columbus.*
     Some of the crowd's roar still echoed in Nogura's ears, even
in the plush silence of the smooth-riding aircar. Kirk seemed
strangely subdued, almost distant. Nogura had the odd sense that
Kirk was not aware that the excitement was in his honor.
     The Commanding Admiral made small talk as an excuse to
study Kirk's face. He had met him briefly years ago, just after he'd
been chosen to head the five-year exploratory mission; but he
remembered him only as a rather serious, clean-cut, astonishingly
youthful officer with an unusually brilliant record. He speculated
about the experiences that had produced the changes he noted. The
straight back and strong jaw were the same, of course. But now
Nogura could see subtle, complicated lines he was sure had not
been there before. The sensitive curve of the mouth, the candid eyes
with hints of hidden depths--Kirk's face betrayed the sort of
commander he had become. A leader who led by the gift of grace,
by touching others' souls.
     Instinctively, Nogura distrusted charisma. He had always
seen clearly that Starfleet's business was defense. The Fleet needed
hard-headed strategists and clever tacticians. Kirk was both, but he
was also a dreamer and a visionary--too much so for Nogura's
comfort. 
     And yet, because Nogura was a realist, he knew that the
masses on whom Starfleet's fortunes depended wanted more than
effective strategy and sound military tactics. To the soft-headed, the
rule of force was an unpalatable truth that had to be disguised with
slogans and symbolism. The man beside him had become the most
important symbol in Starfleet, and Nogura had no intention of
wasting him on space exploration. Kirk had all the attributes of a
perfect figurehead: He was attractive, personally magnetic, and had
a record of heroics that stretched from here to Alpha Centauri.
Nogura *had* to have Kirk in the Admiralty. Not because he was
the best person for the job, although he'd do it well enough. But
because Nogura had to coopt him, use him, make him into
Starfleet's "noble lie." And through him, placate the peacemongers
and the ignorant.
     They had not spoken for several minutes, and Kirk did not
seem disposed to break the silence. Nogura asked him, "Are you
surprised to see how popular you've become, Captain?"
     Kirk turned and gave him a small smile of dismissal. "I don't
flatter myself that the reception was in recognition of me
personally, Admiral. It simply shows how deeply Humans have
responded to the five-year mission. I believe that most Humans find
the discovery of other life forms--different from ourselves yet at
least as highly evolved or more so--extremely exciting."
     "Captain, I think you're going to discover that most
Federation citizens have come to identify the five-year mission with
you personally. It's a necessary shorthand for the average person,
the person who has no time to follow the technical complexities of
the scientific discoveries you made, or even follow your exploits in
the Federation Times science section.
     "One doesn't have to understand the physiology and
molecular structure of a different life form to appreciate its
philosophical and moral significance for Humans," Kirk replied
mildly.
     "Philosophical? Moral?! Nogura chuckled with mock
heartiness. "You give your admirers far too much credit, Jim."
     "I don't think so," Kirk replied with an enigmatic smile. 
     Nogura was taken aback. He had counted on using Kirk's
own vanity to lure him into the gilded cage. Clearly, this was a
more complex man than he had expected. "Well, we'll test our
hypotheses when we watch the news broadcasts tonight," the
admiral concluded with forced humor.
     They touched down after that, and it was not until after a
short meeting to confirm the debriefing schedule that Nogura had a
chance to steer Kirk away from his officers. The closeness of the
group was almost tangible, Nogura noted with disapproval: an
inevitable result of living and working together in close quarters.
     "My wife and I are having dinner for the other members of
the General Staff tonight, Jim," he told Kirk was soon as he found a
moment to have a word alone with him. "If you're free, we'd like
very much if you could attend."
     "I'd be happy to, Admiral," Kirk said politely.
     "Good! Bring a companion, if you'd like--it'll be mostly
couples, the members of the General Staff and their spouses, and a
few others--my wife likes to have an even number at table ..."
Nogura trailed off awkwardly, remembering with a touch of
embarrassment that Kirk was not married.
     "I'd like to bring my First Officer, if I may," 
     Nogura's embarrassment turned to surprise. "Spock?" he
asked.
     Kirk nodded, his clear eyes showing no sign that he thought
the request unusual.
     Nogura was nonplussed. He thought of his wife' reaction,
how upset she'd be at having to round up the ingredients for a
Vulcan meal on such short notice. It was bad enough, having to
accommodate Promila Rao and er husband and their Brahmin
taboos. Why the Vulcan? Nevertheless, he forced himself to nod
with a warmth he did not feel, "Why, of course ... We'll expect you
at 1930, then."
            **********************
     Spock listened to the ring of Kirk's firm footsteps on the
flagstones of the Noguras' vestibule. He had not been enthusiastic
about attending. In his experience, Humans tended to have little
serious discussion at social gatherings, and the quality of the
conversation tended to deteriorate in inverse relation to the
consumption of alcohol. Nevertheless, he was curious to learn more
about the new Commanding Admiral and the other members of the
Admiralty staff. And besides, Kirk had wanted his company. 
     The apartment was large, a two-story penthouse
overlooking the bay. The furnishings (and the rooms Spock could
see definitely were overfurnished) were lush and florid. The
embroidered upholstery, the gold leaf trim on the elaborately, if
somewhat artificially, carved wood were all too ornate for his taste.
     Nogura's wife Mai emerged from somewhere and greeted
them politely. The relative warmth she managed for Kirk did not
carry over to Spock. He had the impression that her reserves of
hospitality had been somewhat depleted by the other guests. He
wondered briefly if she were forced to entertain often because of
her husband's position. If so, she probably resented the illogical
intrusion on her time; and Spock knew that Humans did not always
respond to illogical demands with a logical refusal.
     She showed them the bar, poured Spock some fruit juice
and got Kirk a glass of bourbon on the rocks. Spock was conscious
of conversations stopping and eyes turning around them until a
glance of acknowledgment from Kirk released them. Spock
recognized most of the members of the General Staff, and a few
other staff officers, most of them commodores and vice-admirals. A
slim, large-eyed young woman wearing commodore's stripes came
up and introduced herself as Lori Ciani, a member of Nogura's staff.
She glanced at Spock with mild curiosity, but her luminous eyes
were riveted on Kirk. 
     Kirk had scarcely had time to return her introduction when
Jose Mendez appeared out of nowhere, and Kirk's face lit up in
undisguised pleasure. "Jose!" 
     "Jim!" 
     Lori Ciani faded back unobtrusively as the two men greeted
each warmly. Spock decided not to join the conversation with
Mendez. The two were old friends, and he suspected that Mendez
might want to have a private conversation with Jim about General
Staff politics. His suspicion was confirmed when Mendez steered
Kirk out the glass doors to the large terrace. Spock sat down on the
nearest sofa and proceeded to drink his juice.
     He found himself sitting near a middle-aged woman with an
imperious, aquiline profile and an Admiral's uniform; Spock
recognized her as Admiral Promila Rao. The man seated nearby,
with cream-colored skin and features as finely chiseled as those of
an Indian statue, was undoubtedly her husband. Spock searched his
memory briefly and placed him as a powerful Bombay industrialist.
     They exchanged introductions politely and the couple
welcomed Spock into their conversation, which seemed to concern
a pet project of Admiral Rao's. She advocated setting up a network
of photon-warhead missiles on the Federation outposts nearest the
Klingon sphere of influence. She described in some detail where she
thought the missiles might be located, and asked Spock his opinion,
knowing that he had visited that sector himself. Her familiarity with
the region's topography was impressive, but Spock thought the plan
at best unnecessary, at worst, highly provocative. He told her so.
     "The scheme inevitably would appear aggressive to the
Klingons," Spock said, his voice mild but firm, "since its only
conceivable purpose would be offense. It will not protect the
security of any of the Federation worlds; that goal is far better
served by the existing system of orbital defense satellites."
     Rao dismissed the objection with a wave of her
long-fingered, aristocratic hand. "Ah, Mr. Spock, the best defense
is surely a strong first-strike capability. As you know, we are
currently in the process of redesigning our overall galactic strategy
to emphasize *deterrence.*" She said the word with a kind of
emphatic satisfaction as though she thought it had a force all its
own.
     "I know," Spock acknowledged with a slight nod, "but the
new strategy does not yet have Council approval."
     Rao gave him a sharp look, glancing at his Vulcan features
as though she blamed him personally for the presence of two
Vulcans in the Federation Council, both of whom were quite certain
to vote against her proposal.
     "In any case," Spock continued politely, "a purely defensive
posture has served the Federation well in the past. Shifting to a
strategy based on deterrence would suggest to non-Federation
worlds that we are adopting an aggressive, even an expansionist
foreign policy."    Rao's husband shifted in his chair, a frown
marring his ivory-smooth skin. "It is the *Klingons* who are
aggressive and expansionist. And sadly--" a hint of disdain shaded
his cultivated voice, as though he were expressing disappointment
at the failings of lesser mortals--"we have allowed them to get
ahead of us in preparedness. We have a lot of making up to do, and
we must now be prepared to counter force with force."
     Spock's eyebrows rose in surprise. "The Klingons have been
quite scrupulous in observing the terms of the Organian Peace
Treaty during the last several years. I see no reason to provoke
them needlessly."
     As they were at an impasse, Rao herself changed the subject
and proceeded to ask Spock a stream of questions about the
*Enterprise's* experiences in battle during the last five years. She
was quite knowledgeable about their encounters with the Klingons,
and she pressed him exhaustively for more details. In fact, it was
the only subject she queried him on. Their discoveries on other
worlds seemed not to interest her at all. And she seemed unaware,
or uncaring, that the odds of any Vulcan's being an enthusiast of
war strategy were practically nonexistent.
     He was quite relieved when they were called to the table
and Jim and Jose Mendez came back from the balcony--relieved,
that is, until he saw the fighting look in Kirk's eyes, which Kirk
quickly stifled as they approached the dinner table. Bad news?
Spock wondered with a twinge of apprehension in his stomach.  
     Dinner was an awkward experience for Spock. He and Kirk
did not fit into the Noguras' seating arrangements, which alternated
men and women. Spock felt rather like a fifth wheel.
     Most of the conversation at table concerned investments,
Federation corporations' merger plans, and military strategy. Kirk's
charm and Spock's own impeccable good manners carried them
through he evening, but Spock was glad when finally they were able
to make their excuses over brandy that it had been a long day and
by their ship's time it was now almost one a.m.
     Spock felt the tension radiating from Kirk as they entered
the lift. But it was not until they reached the ground floor and
started walking back to the officers' complex that he spoke.
     "I'm sorry I abandoned you to Admiral Rao, Spock," Kirk
said as they walked briskly across the paved courtyard to the
building where Starfleet was housing them temporarily. "Jose
wanted to brief me on the dynamics among the General Staff and
the options they've been discussing. The news isn't good." His
words were clipped, his voice grim.
     "The Admiralty has decided against renewing the five-year
mission," Spock guessed at once.
     "Not just yet," Kirk answered shortly. "Nogura would like
to scrap it, but doesn't have enough support in the General Staff to
bring it to a vote. But he has gotten them to postpone refitting the
ship."
     "Oh?" Spock fully appreciated the ability of Human
bureaucrats indefinitely to postpone deciding to do something they
preferred not to do at all.
     "Nogura claims to have found some last-minute glitch in the
phaser bank design. Jose regards it as a trumped up excuse." Kirk
tossed his head in a gesture that told Spock Kirk was inclined to
agree with Mendez. "Apparently he pulled this idea out of the hat at
a staff meeting when some of the other Admirals began pressing
him to announce a renewal of the five-year mission. The result was
they agreed to wait until the new designs are completed before the
issue is decided." 
     Spock knew that the redesign and refitting of Starfleet's
Constitution-class starships was a critical first step before another
five-year exploratory mission could be launched. It was illogical,
and probably unsafe, to send any of the Fleet's starships on a
long-term assignment far from home without upgrading to state of
the art standards. "How long is the postponement?"
     "Probably nine months at least--and you know when they
say nine months it could easily mean fifteen.. And the refitting itself
is more extensive that we originally were told. It could take six
months in dry dock. Spock, it could mean nearly two years in
limbo!"
     They were entering the officers' complex now, and Spock
could see Kirk's shoulders tighten as he clenched his fists in
frustration. "I'm sure they have plans for us in the interim," Spock
offered as they rode the lift to their floor. Almost automatically, he
followed Kirk to Kirk's flat and waited while Kirk let them in.
     "Nothing official yet," Kirk frowned. Spock could see the
tension in the muscles of his jaw as they walked toward the living
room. "But the odds of Starfleet's giving us a temporary assignment
for a year and a half or so and then shifting us back to the
*Enterprise* are--"
     Almost automatically, Spock opened his mouth to offer an
estimate, but a quick look from Kirk forestalled him.
     "In fact," Kirk said with a taut sigh as they sat down on the
sofa together, "the General Staff *has* discussed where they are
going to reassign us."
     The tone in Kirk's voice sent a chill down Spock's throat to
settle in his stomach. "And what have they discussed?" he asked
hollowly.
     Kirk leaned back against the sofa cushions, trying to relax
the tension that stiffened his back and shoulders, then gave up and
leaned forward, his hands on his knees, and stared grimly at Spock.
     "You, to a head a research station on the Outer Rim. Me--a
staff assignment."
     Spock felt as though he had been hit in the stomach. "I shall
refuse, of course," was all he said.
     "If they let you," Kirk said morosely.
     Spock met Kirk's eyes cautiously. "The staff assignment
they have in mind .... I assume that would involve a significant
elevation in your rank?" Commodore at the very least, Spock
thought. Perhaps even Vice-Admiral. 
     "The Admiralty," Kirk said shortly, "They want me to head
a new department, Starfleet Operations, that will be created when
they split Operations and Personnel into separate departments." His
face was tight, closed, as though he hadn't noticed the mixture of
pleasure and surprise on Spock's face.
     Yet Spock knew Kirk too well not to know that he was
flattered by the prospect of a three-step jump in rank. Cautiously,
he tried to sort out his own contradictory reactions.
     "What do you see as our options?"
     Kirk straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath.
"Well, the first choice I'm going to have to make is whether to
accept the Staff position. As long as the *Enterprise* is in dry dock
and doesn't need a commander, that will be damned hard to do. I'm
going to have to lobby for some other assignment, something
temporary enough that I can leave it when the *Enterprise* is ready
to go out again."
     Spock struggled to keep his face from betraying his feelings.
He knew better than to be disappointed, but he found himself
wishing that Kirk's vanity resembled the standard Human variety
more closely. Most Humans would leap at the offer of the second
highest job in the command hierarchy. 
     If Spock's disappointment showed in his face, Kirk hadn't
noticed.
"Fortunately, Jose also told me the Staff has decided to assign the
*Enterprise* temporarily to the Academy while she's awaiting the
refit. The idea is to use her to give cadets some actual space flight
training on a starship. The fact that it's the *Enterprise* will have
all sort of symbolic value, raise morale, please the cadets' parents,
increase alumni contributions ... well, you get the picture." Kirk
waved his hands dismissively.
     "And if you were to offer to head the program ...." Spock
guess where Jim's thoughts were heading.
     "They would be too embarrassed to turn me down!" Kirk
finished with a grim smile of satisfaction. 
     "Highly logical," Spock nodded, enjoying the flush of
appreciation that spread over Kirk's face. 
     "And of course," Kirk continued, "I'll insist that my former
first officer join me as second in command. Then, when the ship is
in dry dock, we can tackle the issue of the next five year mission."
     Spock acknowledged the plan's merits with a brief nod, but
he was dubious. "Jim, we may have some influence--perhaps not as
much as you think--over where we shall be assigned next, but we
have very little say in whether or not the exploratory missions will
be continued. Unless, of course, you do decide to become a
member of the Admiralty."
     Kirk ignored the last suggestion, and Spock guessed that he
hadn't yet thought seriously about the job Mendez had told him was
about to be offered to him. Kirk leaned back on the sofa and sighed.
He was tired, and perhaps this was rather a lot to take in all at once,
even for him. But he snapped back with most of his normal
intensity. 
     "You saw the parade today, Spock. The *Enterprise*
mission was wildly popular, beyond anything Starfleet's ever been
linked with in the public eye. Plainly, we have public support on our
side. And according to Jose, we have a reasonable amount of inside
the General Staff. We may wind up having a knock-down, drag-out
fight with Nogura, but it's one we have a decent chance of
winning."
     As McCoy would say, Kirk's Irish was up. He'd take on the
entire Starfleet bureaucracy if that would get him what he wanted.
Spock was more cautious. "What if your plan does not succeed?"
he pressed.
     Kirk shrugged. "I'll try whatever will keep me in command
of a starship. Refuse the promotion to Admiral, if that's what it
takes. Meanwhile, we have to make sure they don't succeed in
shipping you off to the Outer Rim."
     Sensing Spock's skepticism, Kirk reached out and put his
hands on his First Officer's shoulders, making an effort to erase the
fatigue and frustration from his own face with a smile. "In any
event, we can't do any more about it tonight." He massaged the
area around Spock's shoulder blades gently. His eyes softened in
concern as his fingers probed the taut muscles, stiff with anxiety.
     And then Kirk added, almost shyly, "Uh, Spock ... could
you stay tonight?"
     They were still so reticent about love-making. But outside
of work, they had scarcely seen each other during the rush of the
last three weeks, and Spock knew that Kirk must be even hungrier
for intimacy than he was. He nodded, his body gradually relaxing
under Kirk's hands, and he felt a small thrill of anticipation when
Kirk responded with a look of undisguised pleasure. "I shall go to
my flat for a few items first," he said, and Kirk released him happily.
     Spock's flat was only a few doors down the hall, and when
he returned, Jim was undressing in the bathroom. Spock took off
his own clothes, laid them on a chair, looked up and caught his
breath sharply as Jim came out of the bathroom, carrying  a towel.
     Naked, Kirk exuded power and energy. He was already
erect--Spock had observed that it took very little direct stimulation
to bring Kirk to that state. He mused about the cliche he'd heard so
often, that the uniform of the Fleet lent a man authority he did not
otherwise possess. He did not think it applied to Jim. Quite the
opposite, in fact. Jim's authority was highly personal, with its roots
in his own primal, sexual magnetism. Unclad, he was if anything
more commanding than he
was in uniform. 
     Kirk walked toward the bed, looking quizzically at Spock.
"What's funny?"
     "I was wondering how effective you would be, commanding
a starship without your uniform."
     "You mean dressed like this?" Kirk dropped the towel on
the bed and spread his arms and legs wide, displaying himself. Heat
flushed through Spock's genitals, and he noted that he, too, could
become erect without any direct tactile stimulation.
     "Do you have a theory you would like to test on the
bridge?" Kirk persisted, obviously amused by Spock's odd train of
thought. "Maybe the next time a red alert catches us like this?
'Course, then you'd have to participate, too." 
     He smiled, a smile that made Spock's heart turn upside
down, and Spock knew his eyes must betray the thrilling surge of
desire that smile made him feel. He reached out and grasped Kirk's
arms and pulled him over to the bed.
     They dimmed the lights and lay down together. The sudden
shock of Jim's closeness, the feel of his compact, energetic body
against his own made Spock's pulse accelerate. It was still strange
to hold Jim like this, to cover his body with his own, and the
experienced not only aroused him sexually but had all the
new-minted excitement of a paradigm-shattering scientific
discovery. Their minds had been close before their bodies were. But
finally to have consummated that inchoate longing he'd held in for
so long ... it was wonderful, breathtaking, terrifying.
     Jim was stroking his back gently, sending cool waves of
pleasure over his skin. Tentatively, Spock began to explore his
partner's body. With precise, delicate fingers he touched the
powerful shoulders, the fleshiness of the chest, the taut muscles of
the outer thighs. Wanting more, he slipped his hands between Kirk's
legs, enjoying the feel of the smooth, silken threads under his hand,
the lush softness of the inner thighs. He touched the plump sac,
explored its odd textures, pressed the two spheres within their
envelope of flesh, felt them slip away and evade his gentle search.
Kirk twisted away, afraid he would be aroused too suddenly.
     Spock removed his hand and looked at Jim--in the half light
he could see that his lips were already swollen with desire. Jim
propped his head on an elbow and scrutinized him in return. In Jim's
eyes, Spock could see the reflection of how he must look to
Jim--tousled and slightly breathless.
     Jim's mouth was beginning to curve in amusement, and
Spock leaned back, prepared to be teased. His body was taut with
desire and he yearned for sexual consummation, but he understood
Jim's need for the intimacy of play. 
     "Why, Mr. Spock, I believe you're actually beginning to
enjoy this."
     Spock looked down at him and raised an eyebrow. "And
what had you considered my previous motivation to be?"
     "Oh, I don't know," Kirk smiled. "Human indulgence
perhaps. Or indulgence of Humans ...."
     "You think that I am merely indulging you?" Spock took
Jim's hand, threaded his fingers through his own, and bent his hand
back in mock-warning.
     Kirk's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Wouldn't it be more
Vulcan to limit our relationship to a Platonic meeting of minds?"
     "Negative," Spock shook his head firmly, "even if you are
using the term 'Platonic' correctly, which I rather doubt ... and as I
have often told you, sexual relations between Vulcans raise the
level of energy available for the mind meld, making possible a
deeper joining of minds."
     "And that's the only reason you want it," Kirk teased.
     "Of course," Spock shrugged nonchalantly.
     "Well, forgive me, Mr. Spock, but I've found it hard to
distinguish your Vulcan sexuality from my Human sexuality at
times. Somehow they seem to lead to the same result."
     Spock dropped Kirk's hand suddenly. "We could, of course,
meld without physical contact if you would prefer ...."
     "Oh, no, I don't think I'd necessarily prefer that ...."
     The heat in his belly made Spock suddenly very impatient.
"I think this discussion could more constructively be continued at a
later time," was the last thing he said before Kirk pulled his head
down to the bed and rolled over on top of him. 
     Jim kissed his earlobe softly, nuzzled his neck, and dropped
two velvet kisses on his eyes, closing them. He grasped Spock's
face in both hands and then his mouth was on Spock's, his tongue
thrusting against Spock's, joining them flesh to flesh.
     They caressed each other's chests and bellies as they kissed.
Spock could have lain there with Kirk's tongue in his mouth, tasting
the sweet liquor of him, forever. But Jim broke the kiss and loved
his way down Spock's body until he lay between his legs. He inched
his way up to the swollen cock and took it in his mouth in a single
swift movement. As Jim sucked, Spock's mind and body blazed
with pleasure. Astonishing how that cool mouth could pull him into
a white-hot vortex of need that went far beyond sexual yearning.
     Jim finally released his cock and moaned softly, with a
vulnerability that made Spock's heart swell with tenderness. He
rolled off of Spock and lay on his back, his mouth swollen, his body
arched in a tense agony of desire. Something in the curve of Jim's
neck, his head thrown back upon the pillow, and the innocent
sweep of the lashes over the fine bones of his cheek touched a
fathomless chord in Spock. And some dark god of Eros rose up in
his breast, transforming tenderness into passion in a swift and total
metamorphosis. He gripped Jim's face in his hands and kissed him
again, fiercely, thrusting his tongue deep into his mouth in a sudden
yearning for possession.
     Jim met his embrace, strength for strength and need for
need. When they finally separated, Jim touched his cheek, a silent
answer in his eyes. Spock buried his face in Jim's neck wordlessly.
Beneath him, Jim spread his legs and bent his knees, giving Spock
access to his iron-hard cock. Spock gripped the taut organ with
strong fingers, enjoying Kirk's sharp breathless gasps of pleasure in
response. He bent his head first to one nipple, then the other, then
wormed his way down the bed and sucked Kirk's cock, hard, until
Kirk begged him to stop. 
     Spock knew what Jim wanted. He lifted his head and looked
toward the table at the side of the bed, wondering if Jim had put the
lubricant anywhere nearby. Kirk shook his head and pulled Spock
back up toward him. "I already prepared myself," he whispered. He
opened his legs and drew them up, as though to make his meaning
clear.
     Spock needed no clarification. His body left him no choice
when Kirk lay down for him like that. He centered his hard cock
and held himself to try to make the entry gentle, but after Kirk's
small gasp of discomfort ended he let go helplessly and simply
thrust.
     Kirk grasped Spock's buttocks, and tried to pull him even
closer.. "More," he whispered tensely. "Deeper." He twisted
beneath Spock, and Spock knew he wanted his cock to press and
rub against the place that gave the most pleasure. He sank even
deeper into Kirk, and Kirk moaned, letting go of Spock's ass and
reaching for his hand, pulling his fingers toward the meld points.
     Spock positioned his hand on Kirk's face and the meld flared
to life between them. He felt the melting agony of Kirk's pleasure,
how he craved Spock's hard thrusts, the deep gratification he felt
from being filled with Spock. He felt the glow of Kirk's satisfaction
when his cock found the small spot that gave him special pleasure.
And underlying the heat of desire he felt the soaring feeling of being
"in love," the sense of bright wings beating through his mind--a
Human feeling, but not very different from his own. And at an even
deeper level than that, he experienced Jim's strength, integrity and
deep commitment to him, like a bottomless well whose depths he
could not plumb, not even in the mind meld.
     Finally Kirk shuddered under him, and almost in the same
moment Spock's own orgasm spread up from his belly to the
quivering fingertips pressed against Kirk's temple and down to the
tips of his toes. "T'hy'la," he gasped, clinging tightly to the perfect
moment. 
     Kirk lay flat on his back, breathless. Spock laid his head
down on his chest. He had come a lot. They both had.
     As if he'd read his mind, Kirk sat up, mopped them both
with the towel, then rolled off the bed and padded off to the kitchen
to get them something to drink. For Spock's desert-based
physiology, ejaculation could be genuinely dehydrating. Spock
watched Jim silently, loving the grace with which he moved. Jim's
face was relaxed and slightly flushed, his skin glowing. "It is merely
the effect of dilation of the blood vessels," he told himself, "Yet it is
quite pleasing aesthetically."
     He felt the lush aura, the sense of peace, that hung in the air
after they had been to bed together. As a mental exercise, he tried
to analyze it into its component parts. The softly lighted room, the
companionable silence between them, the tinkle of glasses in the
kitchen. Jim's face, calm and happy as he assembled glasses and
pitcher. The scene of Jim's body that clung to his own like
sun-warmed grass. The feeling of utter repose, the fruit of orgasm,
as though every muscle in his body had been turned inside out.
     Jim returned with the pitcher, handed him a glass, and got
back into bed. Pushing the pillows behind him, he pulled Spock up
to half-sit beside him. Spock leaned against his shoulder
contentedly, silently, Jim's arm around his back.
     Jim pulled away slightly to look at him, to savor the sight of
his austere, composed features, then pulled him back and stroked
his sleek hair, traced the line of an eyebrow with gentle fingers.
     Spock was too sleepy to sit up any longer. He leaned across
Jim, put his glass down, then sank back against his chest. Jim
disposed of his own glass and pulled them both down beneath the
covers. Spock slipped his arm around him and a protective leg over
his for good measure. If there was a contest to see who would fall
asleep first, Jim had probably already won.
     Spock's last waking thought was an odd but increasingly
familiar mixture of joy and regret. The closer he and Jim became,
the more he regretted that they would probably never know the
most profound, and profoundly Vulcan, mating with each other.
But he put the thought out of his mind. He would not impose his
own culture's values on Kirk. What they had was deep and
satisfying enough. If they could keep it, he would never want
anything else.
             ********************
     Early the next morning, Admiral Igor Krasnovsky of
Personnel Services received a call from James T. Kirk. His aide had
tried to divert the call as per the Admirals' standing instructions, but
Kirk was impossibly stubborn, and with a sigh he opened the
transmission. Kirk wanted a very short meeting with him during the
break in the debriefing sections that he promised would take not
more than five minutes. Krasnovsky thought of excuses to put him
off, but Kirk had a reputation for boundless persistence, and 
instinct told him it would be easier to meet with the
*Enterprise* commander than put him off.
     Promptly at 1015 hours, Kirk's holographic image solidified
in his office. The young captain's voice was amiable and his manner
low-key and apologetic. "Admiral, I hope you don't mind my asking
about the status of the *Enterprise* refit and your plans for my
crew. It's just that they are asking me questions that I can't answer,
and I though you could help me know what I should say to them."
     "Ah--yes," Krasnovsky hemmed and hawed. He tried to be
indefinite as he could, but under Kirk's delicate but probing
questions, he finally decided there was no harm in telling him about
the postponement of the *Enterprise* refit and the Academy
assignment. 
     He wasn't prepared for Kirk's response. He'd expected
impatience and annoyance. Instead, Kirk appeared to be pleased
with the news. "I'm sure the crew will be as honored as I am to hear
that the *Enterprise* has been chosen for the assignment, Admiral,"
the captain said suavely. "And what shall I tell them concerning
their own assignments?"
     With a certain amount of discomfort, Krasnovsky told him
that the crew would have the option of remaining with the ship
during the Academy assignment, of taking accumulated leave time,
or shifting to other line or staff positions. He was even more
astonished when Kirk beamed in response. "Good! I expect that
most of the crew will exercise their option to stay with the ship.
They'll enjoy the opportunity to train Starfleet cadets as much as I
will."
     Krasnovsky was stunned. "As much as I will"? What was
Kirk thinking? Did this man who had just returned from one of the
most responsible assignments in Starfleet really think it would be an
honor to train midshipmen?
     "Admiral, let me be the first to sign up," Kirk added
smoothly. 
     Krasnovsky felt his jaw drop and closed his mouth firmly.
He could think of nothing to say in response. 
     "Of course, I can't speak for Mr. Spock," Kirk continued in
the same calm, pleasant voice, "but I'm confident he will also
choose to stay aboard." 
     Krasnovsky slowly collected his wits, but Kirk had already
risen to terminate the holo transmission, adding only, "I'll pass the
news to Mr. Spock, Admiral. I'll ask him to get in touch with you
shortly."
     A few minutes later, Krasnovsky received a call from Spock
to notify him formally that he would be willing to remain as First
Officer of the *Enterprise* during the Academy assignment. The
Vulcan's manner was polite and serious, and the call left
Krasnovsky even more confused than ever. To him the assignment
seemed a waste of talent for two of the Fleet's most experienced
officers of the line, but he knew his counterpart at the Academy
would be thrilled with the news.
Moreover, the political context of  the decision to assign the
*Enterprise* to the Academy created an extremely unpromising
climate for rational personnel decisions, or any other kind of
decision. He sighed and punched in the transmission code for the
Academy Provost.
            *********************
     The briefings dragged on all that day and the next. Spock
spent most of that time meeting with Starfleet's senior science staff,
and Kirk missed his help. Nogura's staff were determined to tear his
report apart paragraph by paragraph. They questioned his
conclusions incessantly, taking him to task for decisions on which
the record had closed long ago. 
     Kirk stood his ground. No one knew the *Enterprise* and
its missions better than he did. His decisions had not been made
rashly, and he'd reflected on them deeply in retrospect. He knew the
supporting data for the report like the back of his hand. The
sessions were stressful, but he fought back energetically, gaining
confidence as he fended off their attacks. He left the second day's
session with a sense of accomplishment, and decided to do some
politicking with Nogura's trusted assistant Lori Ciani at the
reception that evening.
         ****************************
     Nogura studied James Kirk from across the room. He was
thoroughly ready to send him off into space again and be done with
him. Kirk was lobbying brilliantly for a second five-year mission
with himself in command, and already, he'd come close to
persuading the wavering Admirals. Even the hard-headed Igor
Krasnovsky had told him earlier that evening what a fine team Kirk
and his first officer had made on the *Enterprise,* how well they
balanced each other's strengths, how unusually well-coordinated
their work had been. He'd said it would be a shame to assign such
excellent line officers to staff duty.
     In spite of himself, Nogura felt a grudging respect for Kirk's
tactical skill. By volunteering to head the short-term Academy
space flight program, Kirk had taken the initiative away from
Nogura and assured that he and Spock would be positioned to
resume command of the *Enterprise* when she was ready to go
into space again. Kirk's offer had had the predictable effect on the
Academy staff. If Nogura refused, he'd have the Provost, the
faculty and the Trustees all over him.
     Once it became known that Kirk was willing to head the
space flight program, most of the General Staff had indicated
privately to Nogura that they liked the idea of his remaining with
the ship. Kirk had made it very clear that he would insist on keeping
Kirk as his First Officer. Spock, like Kirk, was a public symbol of
the Five Year Mission, and the longer the two of them remained on
the *Enterprise,* the stronger the pressure to renew the Mission
would be. Moreover, in the cautious feelers he'd sent out, Spock
had shown no interest in the Outer Rim post. That surprised
Nogura; he'd thought the Vulcan would be attracted by the choice
scientific assignment.
     Perhaps his plan to coopt Kirk into the Academy wasn't
such a bright idea after all. Kirk easily could be more trouble than
his considerable symbolic worth, since he was certain to use the
Admiralty as a base to lobby for space exploration. His skill at
defending the *Enterprise's* achievements in the debriefing sections
was considerable. 
     Nogura looked at the two of them, Kirk and the Vulcan,
chatting with Lori, and muttered a silent imprecation. Even his
trusted assistant hadn't been much help. Already, like a gushing
schoolgirl, she'd developed a crush on the attractive starship
captain. He wouldn't mind that if Kirk had responded in kind. But
he hadn't. Right now, he was smiling amiably enough at Lori, but
Nogura had the impression he really wasn't interested in her as a
woman.
     He heard a sound at his elbow and turned around to see the
portly figure of Admiral Husam Abd al-Hamid at his elbow, a wide
grin splitting his broad peasant's face. "Enjoying the party?" he
asked and laughed at Nogura's expression of distaste. Everyone
knew that Nogura was a workhouse who tolerated official
receptions, even for honored starships, only as a necessary
administrative chore. 
     Still, Nogura was glad to see his pot-bellied colleague. Abd
al-Hamid's earthy good humor was one of the few things that made
him relax. Husam waved a pudgy finger in Kirk's direction.
     "You know, this is the first time I've seen Jim Kirk since he
took my course in Navigation, Constitution Class. I prided myself
that it was one of the hardest courses at the Academy. I used to
give the class the toughest problems I could concoct--and Kirk
hardly ever did them the way they were supposed to be done. He
always managed to come up with a unique solution of his own. And
they were really some of the best I've seen--he had really quite an
original mind."
     Nogura forced himself to smile. He was getting a little tired
of hearing how much other people admired James Kirk.
     "It will be a real privilege for the midshipmen to work with
him in the space light program. And you know, Heihachiro,
although I'd enjoy having him on the General Staff, the same
qualities that make him such an excellent line officer--imagination,
creativity--can be quite counterproductive in a desk job."
     "He's an able administrator," Nogura replied neutrally.
"Quick, decisive, thorough. You wouldn't know it from his personal
style, but he ran the tightest ship in the Fleet."
     "He is still so young, though," Abd al-Hamid countered.
"Five more years on a starship might be best for him--and for us."
     "I've asked Igor to have his department look at all the
options," said Nogura noncommittally.
     Abd al-Hamid continued to look appreciatively in Kirk's
direction. "He was terribly serious at the Academy, you know, a
very hard-working student. But he could play hard as well. Always
a young woman--or a bevy of them--in his life. He was what we call
*zir al-nisa,* a 'jug of women'...."
     "A womanizer," Nogura translated absently. He had little
interest in the sex lives of his subordinates, no matter how colorful
they were--unless, of course, their sexual proclivities detracted from
their work performance. In his own observation, "womanizing" was
often an effective way for an officer in a high-pressure position to
let off steam.
     "Actually," Abd al-Hamid continued, "I used to wonder if a
weakness for beautiful women might turn out to be Kirk's Achilles'
heel. But I see that hasn't happened! Even poor Lori doesn't seem
to be having much success in her campaign, and if she flirted like
that with *me*...."
     Listening to his colleague's hearty chuckle, Nogura was
suddenly aware of Kirk, Spock and Lori Ciani, of their body
language. Lori was leaning toward Kirk, as though trying to draw
him into her own aura. Spock hovered protectively at Kirk's
shoulder. And Kirk himself was holding his drink in front of his
body as though it were a symbolic barrier between himself and Lori.
He was leaning slightly toward his First Officer, turning his head to
look up at him from time to time as he spoke to Lori. It was as
though a taut, invisible thread held the two men together.
     The scene came into sharp focus for Nogura. If Spock were
not a Vulcan, he thought, and if Vulcans did not have their
marriages arranged in childhood ... but of course, he remembered
that Spock's marriage had been dissolved years ago, on Vulcan.
     Suddenly Nogura remembered an incident they'd gone over
in the debriefing session the day before, the events near Beta
Carinae in which Spock had almost burned up the *Enterprise* 
going after Kirk in a disabled shuttlecraft. His colleagues had been
impressed with the result, he'd thought it impossibly foolhardy. And
he found it frankly astonishing that any Vulcan, reared on logic,
could justify such a risk. 
     After the meeting, he'd spent some time going over
*Enterprise* logs in his office, looking at other incidents in which
one of the pair had taken unusual risks to protect or rescue the
other, and had found a large number. It appeared to be a pattern
that he planned to bring up at an appropriate time.
     Nogura hated to leave bits of information unconnected.
Always, he moved them about in his mind until they fit together in a
single whole. And in a sudden flash of insight, he saw that whole.
     The pieces of the puzzle came together and fit. Kirk's
insistence that he and Spock remain on the *Enterprise*; Kirk's
disinterest in Lori; the Beta Carinae incident and a score of others;
Spock's lack of enthusiasm for the Outer Rim ....
     Nogura *knew,* with the sureness of instinct honed over
years of manipulating others, that Kirk and his First Officer were
lovers.
     With a heartiness he did not feel, Nogura took Abd
al-Hamid's arm and steered the two of them toward the bar to refill
their drinks.
       *******************************
     As the party was breaking up, Nogura took Lori Ciani aside
and asked to speak to her alone. She was the only person he could
trust to carry out this assignment, and he knew she'd be motivated
once he told her what he wanted. She'd be shocked at first at the
idea of prying into the personal affairs of fellow officers, but she'd
accept it when he told her that the good of the Fleet was at stake.
     "Find out for me if Kirk and Spock are involved ...
romantically," he told her bluntly. "I don't care what you have to do
to find out, what confidential files you need to access. Look at
every record on the *Enterprise* if you must--communication logs,
medical records, whatever. Just do it."
     Her eyes widened in disbelief at first, but then she saw the
grim expression on his face and nodded. "First thing tomorrow,
sir."
         ****************************
     After he left the party, Nogura did not go home but went
back to his office, let himself in, and engaged the computer tie-in
under his own confidential highest security level code. He accessed
the classified intelligence files on Vulcan, and his questions were
brief and direct.  They concerned the Vulcan practice of telepathic
bonding and a certain clause in the treaty between Vulcan and the
Federation that was known, within Starfleet, only to members of
the General Staff and officeers with the highest level of security
clearance.
     The computer's soft monotone told him all he needed to
know. The phenomenon he knew only from rumor had a name, a
scientific explanation, and a long history of examples. The files
pointed him toward a single policy conclusion. If Kirk and Spock
were bondmates, he could never allow them to serve on a starship
again.
     Nogura left the office and walked across the still, moonlit
courtyards to his apartment, his footsteps muffled in the mist. He
felt a grim sense of satisfaction. He reflected that although he'd
never gambled, if he to start now he could safely stake a year's
salary on the answer Lori would produce to his question.
         ****************************
     He didn't have to wait long. During the noon break in the
debriefing talks the next day, Nogura went back to his own office
to look through some personnel files of promising officers who
might be interested in heading a space flight training program for
midshipmen. He'd barely started when Lori was buzzed into his
office. She looked deeply embarrassed, and he asked her to sit
across the desk from him.
     She bowed her head, then handed him a pair of data wafers.
"I believe the answer to your question is 'yes,'" she said softly. "No
evidence of any formal relationship, but I found ship's
communication logs that show that they spent the night in each
other's cabins and took shore leave together. And medical records
show that each of them was having sexual relations with a man. Not
just on leave, but during long stretches when the ship was in deep
space." She swallowed uncomfortably. "And sir, the records show
that Kirk was meticulous about avoiding sexual contact with
members of his crew." She had to force herself to meet his eyes.
     "Members of the crew, yes. That would rule out anyone not
of command-grade rank."
     Lori nodded miserably. Nogura felt a little sorry for her.
"Any other data?" he asked.
     She sighed and made a noncommittal gesture. "I don't
consider ship's gossip to be 'data,' sir, but I inquired, and it's
certainly consistent."
     Nogura nodded, thanked her, apologized tersely for the
unusual assignment, and hinted that he needed the information to
help him evaluate Kirk's and Spock's performance during the
Mission. Lori looked puzzled, and he didn't think she really believed
him, but she rose politely and let herself out
          **************************
     Later that afternoon, Nogura buzzed Igor Krasnovsky and
gave him the name of a young officer whom he wished to
recommend personally to head the Academy training program. Yes,
he knew that Igor wanted Kirk and Spock to stay on, but nine
months was far too long to allow two such valuable members of the
Fleet to vegetate in a public relations job. Yes, he knew the
Academy people would be disappointed, but he'd take care of that.
He'd handle the Provost and the Trustees personally. 
     Nogura waited calmly as surprise and chagrin played
themselves out on Krasnovsky's stiff
features. Nogura rarely exercised his influence by making a
personnel recommendation to Krasnovsky, and Krasnovsky knew
the consequences of ignoring the Commanding Admiral's
recommendations well enough. In clipped tones he assured Nogura
he'd beginning processing the assignment immediately.
         ****************************
     Twenty-four floors above the city of San Francisco, Lori
Ciani sat motionless on the overstuffed sofa in her
elegantly-decorated living room. The drapes were swept back from
the large picture window that faced the sofa, and the stunning view
of the lights and the harbor mocked her silently.  
     *'Nogura's whore,'* said a tiny voice in her mind--a scrap of
conversation she had overheard long ago, when she was new to her
present position on the Commanding Admiral's staff. She had
dismissed it scornfully at the time; now, it seemed terribly
appropriate. *By God, I will never pry in a fellow-officer's private
life again.* 
     But at least Nogura had saved her from the embarrassment
of rejection by the man she had tried so hard for the last several
days to seduce. She turned her head fractionally and stared at the
bedroom door, open just wide enough to reveal the large bed piled
high with cushions, the bouquet of peonies on the bedside table, the
bedclothes turned down suggestively.
     She thought back bitterly to her sense of anticipation that
morning, as she had readied her apartment before leaving for work.
The decanter of brandy and two glasses on the sideboard, the
bedroom sensuously appointed. She was going directly from her
office to a dinner date with Jim Kirk, and she  had not even
questioned that he would come home with her. 
     That was before she had done as Nogura had asked her, and
searched the *Enterprise* records for the details of Jim Kirk's sex
life with his First Officer.
     Lori rose and walked over to the sideboard where the
brandy decanter rested, untouched. Angrily, she twisted off the
stopper and poured as much brandy as the small glass could hold.
Staring out the window, she gulped, rather than sipped, the liquor,
welcoming the sting as it went down, burning her throat like bile.
     After what she had learned about Kirk that morning, it was
easy to figure out that he was using her, using the dinner invitation
as an opportunity to pump her for information, to use her influence
with Nogura. And yet he was so passionate, so forthright about his
desire to go on
commanding the *Enterprise* with his superb First Officer, that she
could not help feeling compassion for him.
     Finally, at the end of a long, slowly-savored meal in one of
San Francisco's most splendid restaurants, she had told him. She
was careful not to betray how she had spied on the intimate details
of his life, of course. But she told him of Nogura's suspicions and
his conviction that lovers should not serve together in a particularly
sensitive field command.
     She didn't know what she had expected. Embarrassment,
evasion, even anger, perhaps. But surely not the open honesty, the
blazing pride. 
     "Hell, yes, we're lovers. And you can tell Nogura that I am
far more honored to be the lover of Spock of Vulcan than all the
medals and commendations in Starfleet."
     She had flinched under the heat of his withering scorn, even
though it was not directed at her. Gently, she tried to explain
Nogura's reasoning, but he would have none of it. 
     "We were the best team in Starfleet before, and we're an
even better team now. I intend to spend the rest of my life with
Spock, and I don't care what Nogura thinks. Just let him try to
separate us!"
     She had no answer for that. She stared back at him mutely,
thinking that Nogura would be only too pleased to take up that
challenge. Her voice sounded weak and strange when she finally
said, "Jim, do not take this lightly. He is a very powerful man."
     But Kirk had scarcely heard her. He pushed his chair back,
stood up and gestured for their server. The evening was over.
      *********************************
     It was nearly midnight, and still Kirk had not returned from
his dinner appointment with Lori Ciani. Spock meditated longer
than usual, toyed with the idea of waiting up, and finally decided to
go to bed. Even in meditation, he could not suppress two warring
emotions--his pride in Jim's total commitment and fidelity to him, 
and a dark current of fear and jealousy sparked by his memory of
how Lori had looked at Jim at the party, how plainly attracted to
him she was. 
     Jim had invited her to dinner to obtain information about
Nogura and the rest of the Admiralty, and to try through her to
influence Nogura. The tactic made sense, but Spock knew well his
captain's capacity for manipulation, and when the stakes were this
high ... it was unproductive to guess what was happening between
Jim and Lori, he told himself firmly,
and forced himself to sleep.
     The door whooshed and woke him up and he saw the
outline of Kirk's body in the darkness. He half sat up and moved
over to make room in the bed. Kirk lay down heavily beside him,
not bothering to disrobe or even to shake his boots off, simply
hugging him and burying his face in his neck.
     Spock touched Kirk's head lightly and was surprised when
Kirk caught his hand in a tight grip and placed Spock's fingers on
his own temple. But he readily initiated the mind-meld his partner
sought.
     He was unprepared for the torrent of vivid emotion that
poured from Kirk's mind, so intense that he almost drew  his hand
back from the shock. But those feelings were not for him. They
were anguish and passion for the *Enterprise.*
     "They've taken her away from me, Spock," Kirk whispered
even as Spock saw it in his mind. Saw him meeting Lori in the
restaurant, pumping her for information. Saw her reluctance to talk
eventually melt under the full force of his charm. Saw her admit that
someone else had already been appointed to run the space flight
program. Felt Jim's shock and dismay when she confessed that
Nogura suspected he and Spock were lovers. Flinched and then
flushed with pride at Jim's blazing defense of their relationship.
     The meld was too intense to hold. Spock drew back, broke
the connection with a small mental apology. "But our conversations
with Krasnovski? I thought it was settled. What happened?"
     Kirk shook his head despondently. "I left Lori at the
restaurant and called Krasnovski. I asked him if it was true, and he
confirmed it." He laid his head down n the pillow beside Spock in
despair. "Said Nogura had talked him out of it. He said he'd decided
that running a training program was a waste of my skills and
experience. He even implied--" Kirk's voice took on a caustic
edge-- "that I was interested in the job because it would be a soft,
easy assignment. That I want to stay on the *Enterprise* because
I'm lazy! I'd be insulted, if it weren't so absurd."
     Spock felt Kirk's tight-leashed energy and tension against
his own body. "Did Krasnovski indicate what assignment you will
receive?"
     Kirk shook his head against Spock's shoulder. "No. But he
hinted that a big promotion is in store, that the General Staff thinks
I should be placed in a 'much more responsible' position." He sighed
wearily, then rolled over on his back and threw an arm across his
eyes. "Shit, I don't
mind a promotion. I deserve it. Plenty of Commodores have
commanded starships, and I don't see why a Vice-Admiral couldn't
hold a flagship command. But I can't see myself in a paper-pushing
job." 
     "Krasnovski is not incorrect, Jim, in suggesting there is
considerable responsibility in an upper-echelon staff job," Spock
pointed out, trying to sound objective. "As a member of the general
staff, you could be an effective advocate for space exploration."
     "Yes, I know," Kirk said wearily. "Jose keeps telling me he
needs my support. That I could tip the balance against Nogura's
Terran chauvinism within the Admiralty. But Spock, dammit, I
don't want the job."
     "But if another starship command is not available--" Spock
said tentatively, wanting to hear Kirk draw the obvious conclusion.
     Kirk lifted his head and looked down at Spock. "It's
available if I can get it. Jose told me today that the commander of
the *Lexington* is due to retire in four months. They haven't
picked out a replacement for her yet, and the timing is right."
     Spock felt a tiny stab of disappointment. He wondered why
Kirk had failed to state the obvious. "Jim, you just showed me what
Ms. Ciani shared with you--that Nogura will do everything in his
power to prevent us from serving together as long as he believes
that we are lovers."
     Kirk touched his face apologetically and gave him a rueful
half-smile. "I haven't forgotten that, Spock--I just don't believe
Nogura can make it stick."Spock's disappointment turned to
warmth, and he decided that a discussion of the practical problems
could wait for another day. Although they were no longer linked,
he could still feel Kirk's fierce love for the *Enterprise,* his anger
at Nogura and Krasnovski for tearing him away from his ship. And
underneath Kirk's anguish, he could feel a sharp surge of sexual
energy and desire. He pulled reached down and pulled their bodies
together, and with some satisfaction felt Kirk's cock hardening
through the cloth of his uniform. If he could not restore the
*Enterprise* to Kirk, at least he could give him this.
     Almost apologetically, Kirk stirred away from him. "Spock,
I didn't come here to impose my own needs on you. "
     "You are hardly imposing," Spock murmured into his hair.
He pulled away then, rose, helped Kirk undress, then lay back down
on the bed again and gently eased Kirk down beside him. Jim bent
over him and groped for Spock's mouth. The kiss that began almost
awkwardly took hold, and they locked together in mute hunger. A
current of desire spread down Spock's
body, deepening, gaining force with Kirk's touch, with each testing
of the expert ways Kirk knew would give him pleasure. The soft
pressure of Kirk's lips against his skin brought a new set of nerves
to life, left them glowing and warm and vibrant, as though the
neurons existed only to
transmit his lover's touch.
     Gratefully, Spock sighed as Kirk leaned back and crouched
over him, preparing them both for intercourse. He reached out to
touch Kirk's stiff organ, to pull it toward his own body. "Careful,"
Kirk gasped as he rolled Spock back and leaned over him. And then
the thick cock was inside Spock, making slow velvety
strokes--impossible pleasure. Spock sank his fingers into Kirk's
round buttocks, pressing him deeper, into his very core ... .With
each stroke, a bright, glowing burst of energy pulsed and swelled in
his belly ... pulsed and gathered and coalesced, until the tide of
energy broke and sank back upon its center.
     Kirk's whole body shuddered as he came, all his pent-up
energy vented in the ejaculation. He collapsed on Spock's chest,
gasping heavily. Spock stroked his hair, his broad back, its
hard-muscled flesh now soft and moist from orgasm.
     Kirk leaned mutely against him, still breathing too heavily to
speak.
     "I needed you," he finally gasped. "Oh, Spock, I'd give
anything to be back on the ship--making love like this after a crisis,
after we'd survived losing all our dilithium crystals and being
surrounded by a horde of Klingons ... sounds silly, doesn't it?" He
shook his hair out off his
eyes with a sad smile.
     "I understand," said Spock quietly.
     Gratefully, Kirk laid his head down on Spock's chest. Soon
he was asleep.      As he listened to Kirk's regular breathing,
Spock tried to sort out his own emotions. They were far from
simple. He was tempted to conclude that Kirk was being stubborn,
even irrational, to refuse to consider a Staff promotion a welcome
next step in a brilliant career. But Spock could not, in good
conscience, be sure that his own response was grounded in logic
and not in the illogical emotion of protectiveness--and perhaps even
baser feelings of jealousy and possessiveness.
     To be honest with himself, Spock admitted that he would
find it convenient if Starfleet were to make a decision for Kirk that
Spock would never ask him to make for himself. And there were
demands that he would make of Kirk if he would--demands that
were far from logical.
     *I should feel shame,* he acknowledged, *that he means so
much to me. If I am to become an emotional being, it is better to do
as he does, to balance this emotion with others. It is far healthier for
him to feel love for a starship than it is for me to be jealous of it.*
     But even for a Vulcan, nothing is as impossible as to call up
emotions where they do not exist. And sometimes nothing is more
unsatisfying than *almost* to have the one thing you want, but not
quite to have it. Especially when that one thing is a person, whom
you can never really possess anyway. 
     Those were the thoughts chasing round in Spock's mind as
he drifted off tosleep.
        *****************************
     Areel Shaw was no longer a Starfleet staff attorney. She had
spent most of the last several years working in the Antitrust
Division of the Federation Department of Justice, but had resigned
recently when the new administration weakened its enforcement
activities. She was now in private practice. When Spock arrived at
Kirk's apartment on Friday afternoon, ready to leave to visit to
Kirk's mother in Iowa for the weekend, Areel was already there,
chatting with Kirk in the living room over drinks.
     "Spock, come join us," Kirk's voice rose in welcome as
Spock let himself in.
     "One moment." Spock walked to the other end of the
apartment to  search for some tapes and papers he had left there
and wanted to take along for the weekend. As he gathered up and
packed the materials he need, he caught snatches of the
conversation.
     "What if Starfleet does assign us to opposite ends of the
galaxy?" Kirk asked anxiously. Spock tensed, partly at the question,
partly at the idea of Kirk's confiding in an outsider. But they had
agreed that Kirk should talk freely with Areel. He trusted her as an
old friend and lover, and she was their best source of legal advice if
they should need it.
     "Do you expect them to?" asked Areel.
     "I don't know yet," Kirk sighed. "I've submitted a request
for reassignment to another starship command. I've asked for
Spock as my First Officer. But I've heard by the grapevine that
Nogura is dead set against our being assigned together, and Spock
is being considered for a choice scientific assignment--running a
research station on the Outer Rim." Kirk's voice was even, with
only the slightest hint of sarcasm.
     "And what can you do if they refuse to honor your request?
Jim, you know as well as I do that you can't challenge a Starfleet
assignment unless it's completely arbitrary and capricious." Areel's
voice was sympathetic, but her tone said, *be reasonable.*
     "Areel, it's ridiculous to refuse to let us go on doing what
we do best, and better than anyone else in Starfleet." Kirk's voice
was testy.
     "How do you think *they* see it?" Areel asked softly.
     "Look at our record!" Spock winced at the rising anger in
Kirk's voice. He did not seem to be listening to Areel.
     "Jim--" Areel said firmly, as though to get Kirk's attention,
"You've already said Nogura has figured out that you and Spock
are lovers. And Nogura and Krasnovsky are notorious for opposing
too much personal loyalty in a starship crew. They think it fosters
too much independence of Starfleet Command. That may be stupid,
but they don't have to justify their assignments--any more than you
did aboard the *Enterprise.* You can see their point of view,
surely. How often did you let personal considerations override
professional ones with your own crew?"
     *Never,* Spock supplied the answer to himself as he stuffed
a portable computer into its case.
     Kirk paused, and for a beat the conversation stopped.
Spock could feel him weighing what he would say next.
     "Areel, if Spock and I had a legal relationship, Starfleet
would have to take it into account in assigning us. Formal ties are
weighed heavily in making long-term duty assignments."
     Spock almost dropped the tape he was holding. He and Kirk
had never discussed any formalization of their relationship.
Federation law recognized many legal arrangements for sharing
property, inheritance, pension and insurance monies, for couples
and groups of almost every conceivable composition. Kirk tended
to dismiss legal relationships as empty formalities--and Spock's
culture knew only a single, absolute form of marriage. Any lesser
tie seemed like a business arrangement than the true Vulcan
meeting of minds. He did not want anything less.
     Areel sighed. "They'd have to consider it, Jim, but even then
they wouldn't *have* to assign you together. No assignment
involving either one of you will ever be 'routine.' And you know
that professional considerations always have priority when the best
interest of the Fleet is at issue. As long as they have a decent reason
to assign you to opposite ends of the galaxy, they can do it."
     "And be content to see each other on leaves," Kirk retorted
bitterly. 
     "Or one of you could take a leave of absence," Areel added,
and Spock heard the compassion in her voice as she said, "know
what this means to you, Jim, but you know that the only partners
Starfleet *has* to assign together are Vulcan bondmates."
     "By special treaty arrangement between Vulcan and the
Federation," Kirk supplied.
     "That's right." 
     Kirk's next words were so low that even Spock had to strain
to hear them. "*Spock* is a Vulcan."
     Spock gripped the desk he was standing next to. Kirk's
meaning was clear. And Spock had the uncanny sensation that this
was not the first time Kirk had thought about the subject.
     A part of him hoped, with a wild, irrational passion, that Jim
was as serious as he sounded. The rest of him counseled firmly:
*Do not indulge in fantasies. You must make clear to him --*
     "Spock!" Kirk's impatient voice called from the living room.
Spock stilled his pounding heart as best he could, finished the much
simpler task of organizing the materials in his case and went to join
them.
     But evidently Jim and Areel were finished talking about
their being reassigned together. They chatted about the
*Enterprise,* about Areel's work, about a case she'd just won
against her former employer, forcing Starfleet to install safety
locking devices on all seats aboard its vessels--until finally, Spock's
internal time sense told him they must leave to catch the 1521 air
tram for southern Iowa. 
     It would take them 7.6 minute to reach the station. Spock
glanced at Kirk, who read his expression with the ease of long
habit. "We're due at my mother's for supper, and I gather from the
look in Spock's eye that if we don't leave in the next 60 second, the
tram will take off without us."
     Areel smiled and gathered up the case of microtapes she'd
brought with her. "Have a lovely weekend, both of you. Give my
love to your mother, Jim, and if I can do anything, please let me
know." 
     Kirk kissed her warmly, she squeezed Spock's hand
affectionately, and was gone.
             *******************
     It took them only a little longer than the projected sixty
seconds for Kirk to collect what he needed for the weekend. Once
aboard the air tram Kirk seemed visibly to relax. He leaned back in
his seat, stretched his legs and turned to Spock with a sign of relief.
     "What a week. Thank God it's over." And then, a smile of
anticipation tugging at the corners of his mouth, "I can't wait for
you and Mother to meet, Spock."
     "And I am extremely curious to meet your parent." 
     "I think you'll like each other," was Kirk's considered
response. "In fact, I expect her to fall head over heels for you. She's
always had a soft spot for Vulcans, you know ...."
     "Understandable, although such a reaction would be most
undignified, even for a Human."
     Kirk laughed happily. "Well, be prepared for her to lavish all
sorts of attention on you this weekend. She says she's canceled
everything else on her agenda, and for Mother, that's pretty serious.
Especially since she was elected head of LADR last month."
     Spock knew that "LADR" --which Kirk pronounced
"ladder"--was an acronym for the League of Advocates for
Disability Rights, and he had a rough idea what Kirk's mother did as
its volunteer president--but he was eager to know more. Indeed, he
felt a great deal of unsatisfied curiosity about Kirk's mother. 
     It wasn't that Kirk hadn't told him a great deal about her
over the years--he had. Spock knew that Margaret McAlister had
married Kirk's father, a Starfleet officer, when both were still quite
young. She had been a sensitive, scholarly young women with a
strong conscience and a streak of creative brilliance in her chosen
field, electronic engineering. Her specialty was the design of
electronic devices to assist Humans and other life forms to do
things they could not do for themselves--communicate, manipulate
objects, go about the myriad tasks of daily living. She and Jim's
father had settled in Iowa so that she could work at the Center for
Applied Medical Electronics near Riverside. When her sons were
born, she had devoted herself to raising them with the same energy
and concentration she brought to her work.
     Jim's father was gone in space most of the time, and Maggie
had filled the evenings with her sons with books, art and music.
Later, as Jim and Sam grew older, she had gradually extended the
range of her work to include advocacy for the persons who used
the devices she created. She discovered in herself an innate gift for
leadership and began to employ her great reserves of energy to
community organizing. She had never remarried after Jim's father
was killed in deep space, but had used political and social activities
to fill the void in her life.
     It was these activities that aroused Spock's curiosity. 
     "I do not understand precisely what LADR does, Jim. You
have told me that most of its activities are concentrated in the
Federation colonies and some of the newer member planets. Is its
function to provide information about services for people who need
assistance, or educate the community about Federation law?"
     "Well, partly," Kirk replied. "But LADR is basically an
advocacy group. Its mission is to ensure that Federation civil rights
laws are enforced, and that government policies are responsive to
the interests of people with disabilities. They do a lot of their work
in the colonies, trying to make sure that the newer worlds don't
repeat the mistakes of Earth's past--like building group homes and
sheltered workshops."
     "That sounds like a simple task--at least, it would be on
Vulcan. Perhaps that is why we have no need of specialized interest
groups such as LADR. But, knowing Human illogic, I am sure that
LADR plays a much-needed role."
     Kirk smiled at him affectionately. "I told you, Mother has
always found Vulcans appealing." 
     Spock reflected that he had never really had a "feel" for
Human politics, and he knew that it was because of this gap in his
experience that it had taken him so long to develop the ability to
exercise leadership among Humans. Like everything else in Human
society, Human politics were ruled by Human passions. A chaotic
mess of clashing interests, opinions and organizations, the Human
political process was light-years removed from the logical,
well-ordered manner in which resources were distributed on
Vulcan. 
     Kirk looked nervously out the window as they reached the
end of the twenty-minute tramride. Spock guessed the reason for
his anxiety.
     "Have you told your mother that we ..."
     "No," Kirk replied quickly. "I've been rehearsing how I'm
going to break the news. And I know I'd better figure out how to
tell her before we unpack, or she'll put you in the guest room."
     Spock raised an eyebrow quizzically, curious to see how
Kirk would handle a situation that even a Vulcan would find
challenging.
     At 1741 local time, the train descended and coasted to a
halt at the Riverside station. The platform was small, plain and
uncrowded, with none of the bustle of San Francisco and its many
races and cultures. A short woman with grey hair was standing on
the platform, fidgeting with obvious impatience as they docked.
     "That's Mother," Kirk said unnecessarily, and rushed out of
the tram, almost leaving his bags behind in his haste. "Jim!" the
woman called in a voice resonant with joy. By the time Spock had
followed him out of the car, Jim had already smothered her in a
bear hug. 
     "Oof! You've gained weight!"
     "All muscle," Kirk shrugged as he stepped back and looked
at her.
     Unimpressed, his mother poked him in the stomach. "That's
muscle? I'd like to talk to the dietician on your starship about the
food they let you eat."
     Kirk turned to Spock with an enormous grin and introduced
them with a flourish. As Kirk's mother shook his hand firmly, Spock
felt the strange shock of seeing Jim's features on someone else. The
wide, expressive mouth was the same, and the curve of the high
forehead. They even shared the same broad shoulders and tapering
back. Although Maggie McAlister was well into her sixties, her
body was still straight, her eyes clear and candid. Her hair was a
short, unassuming gray, and she'd made no attempt to disguise the
lines of age etched into her face. It was as well, Spock thought, for
they were lines of character, depth and humor. Instinctively, he
knew he would like her immensely.
     It was only a few minutes in Maggie's aircar to the large old
frame house just outside of town--the house where Jim had grown
up. Although the air was warm and heavy with humidity, the fresh
green lawn and crisp white-painted wood, the trees lining the street,
casting long, peaceful shadows in the sun, made a cool and restful
contrast to the heat.
     They left their bags by the door and followed Maggie into
the kitchen, for she insisted they have drinks and snacks before they
unpacked. Spock was startled by the variety of fruit and berry juices
she had to offer, and even more surprised by the Vulcan cookbook
he saw on the table.
     "Mother probably knows as much about Vulcan cuisine as
you do, Spock," Kirk explained mischievously, seeing the surprised
on Spock's face. "You see, she's always been a health food fanatic
..."
     His mother groaned and turned to Spock for support. "You
wouldn't believe how difficult it was to keep this child away from
junk food when he was growing up," she said ruefully as she
poured them all some juice. "George was different--he never ate
anything that wasn't good for him. But this one ...." she nodded
reproachfully at her younger son, "as soon as he was old enough to
walk over to the other kids' homes, he learned how to con their
parents into giving him white bread and chocolate cake." 
     Kirk acknowledged the reproof with a grin. "Mother, you
would have loved to have Spock for a son. I don't think he's ever
eaten an unrefined carbohydrate in his entire life."
     "I have, however, had glucose administered to me in
Sickbay," Spock countered, entering easily into their banter. "It was
enough to convince me that I much prefer carbohydrates in their
natural state."
     Maggie laughed appreciatively. "We'll have our drinks in the
study," she apologized as they left the kitchen. "The living room's
full of LADR stuff that I haven't gotten organized yet." As they
passed the entrance to the living room, Spock saw that it was
crowded with cabinets, cartons of tapes and equipment waiting to
be installed. A large D-687 duotronic computer, not hooked up yet,
sat next to an equally sophisticated communications console in the
corner.
     "Central will have to run a cable in so that we'll have
enough power to supply the computer," Maggie explained. "The
solar unit on the roof can't supply the energy to run it. We put in a
request weeks ago, but they haven't gotten around to it yet."
     "Maybe they'll let Spock and me put it in ourselves
tomorrow. At least, LADR must be doing well to afford this
equipment," Kirk smiled.
     "That's just the trouble," Maggie sighed. "We bought it a
couple of years ago, when we had a big grant from the Social
Welfare Commission. But then the Coalition came to power, and
our only source of funds apart from membership dues is private
foundation money. And we have to stand in line for that along with
all the other groups who're in the same boat."
     "What does the Coalition have to do with it?" Kirk frowned.
     "The Commissioner of Social Welfare for the Coalition is a
New Humanist. She doesn't think highly of LADR."
     "Why not? Who could oppose the work you do?"
     "The New Humanists think LADR is too  individualistic.'
They believe  the solution to issues of unequal status is not civil
rights, but submersion in the collective identity. They accuse us of
caring too much about personal fulfillment."
     "Oh," Kirk shrugged, raising his glass in a mock salute as
they entered the study. "At the risk of sounding 
individualistic'--here's to personal fulfillment!"
     The study was a pleasant, light-filled room, with warm oak
paneling and comfortable furniture. The room was orderly, but it
was a complex, idiosyncratic sort of order. Plants, books and
portraits crowded the walls and shelves in a logic that obviously
was Maggie's own.
     Spock surveyed the artifacts on the wall with interest. His
eyes were caught by a portrait of a tow-headed, round-faced child
whose even rounder eyes were full of mischief. Jim. There were
family portraits with a youthful Maggie and a serious, strong-jawed
man with Jim's eyes. Later portraits showed only the two boys. It
was as though both parents had vanished at once, Spock thought,
as though she had died with her mate like a Vulcan--a strange
illusion, since obviously she was very much alive.
     The most visually striking picture on the wall was a large,
lovingly detailed drawing that hung over Maggie's desk. It was a
portrait of two children, but they were not Jim and Sam. One child
was a little Andorian girl of about five or six standard years, whose
face bore the classic signs of Therin's syndrome, a developmental
disability common among Andorians. Her eyes were small, her
antennae curved at the tips. The other was a Human child of the
same age. They were playing a hand-patting game with each other,
and their faces were alive and joyful. The little Andorian girl's head
was thrown back in laughter, and the little boy's face was lit up with
an elf-like grin. They were beautiful.
     Moved, Spock had a sudden insight into the roots of Jim's
open-mindedness. He remembered the conversation Jim had had
with Alexander, the dwarf they had rescued from Platonius. Jim had
asked him if there were  any other Platonians like you,' that is,
without the Platonians' psycho-kinetic power, and Alexander's face
had lit up when he realized what Kirk had meant. "I thought you
were referring to my height," he'd explained apologetically. Kirk
hadn't been. 
     Kirk sat down and propped his feet up on a small table
covered with books and pamphlets. Spock was surprised at the easy
rapport between Jim and his mother, at the fact that they genuinely
liked each other. Not wanting to intrude, he turned his attention to
the books on the shelves. His eyes met a row of books, highly
technical ones from the look of them, on the design of sophisticated
mobility aids.  
     "Come and sit down, Spock," said Maggie. He was
surprised at how easily their rapport stretched to include him.
Maggie's interest in him was genuine and not merely a product of
her hospitality. In fact, she was soon showering him with questions.
How did he reconcile Vulcan pacifism and service in Starfleet? Did
he have much opportunity to pursue pure scientific research aboard
the *Enterprise,* or was he forced to compromise his scientific
interests in favor of more practical concerns? Was he often
uncomfortable with Starfleet policies? Jim leaned back and listened
fondly as he answered her questions, honestly, without
oversimplification.
     At a pause in the conversation, Maggie caught Jim's eye and
said reproachfully, "I wonder how Spock felt when you violated the
Prime Directive on Gamma Trianguli VI." 
     Jim's eyes referred the question to Spock with an amused
twinkle.
     Spock looked at Maggie in sympathy, sensing that she was
on his side. "Indeed, I did have grave reservations about our actions
there."
     Maggie looked at her son in triumph. "You see? Even your
own First Officer didn't agree with you."
     Kirk grinned at Spock. "As you will remember, I fought that
one out with Starfleet all the way up to the Federation Council.
They finally saw it my way, but I could never convince Mother that
I did the right thing."
     "Of course not!" Maggie replied with a rhetorical flourish.
"You had no right to destroy another society's scheme of
organization because they didn't believe in *your* work ethic!"
     "Mother, you should talk!" Kirk grinned with relish. "Look
at the energy you put into getting people with disabilities into
boring, meaningless jobs. Remember how you and your
organization ganged up on that colony government that wanted to
give people government benefits instead of  forcing them to work?"
     "That was a civil rights issue," Maggie retorted. "People
have a right to work."
     "A right, or a duty?" 
     "People need to feel that they have a meaningful place in
their own society, and ours happens to be organized around work."
     "And Federation colonies can't decide to organize their
societies any other way?"
     Maggie's sigh was exaggerated for effect. "Only people with
disabilities were eligible for government support instead of having
to work for a living. It was an issue of equality."
     "Was it? You've always told me that the state can give
people with disabilities privileges it doesn't give others."
     "The benefits may have been labeled a privilege, but they
robbed people of dignity, the dignity of doing something
productive."
     "Sounds a lot like what I said to the people of Vaal."
     Maggie turned to Spock with an expression of mock
exasperation. "I know that other societies have developed
approaches that are better than ours. I wish we had more contact
with our counterparts on Vulcan, Spock; we could learn so much
from you ...."
     Spock acknowledged the compliment carefully. "I agree that
more contact would benefit both parties," he said slowly,
wondering what deep waters the conversation might take them into,
wondering what she would think if she knew the nature of his
relationship with Jim. 
     "For instance, I've heard that Vulcans never segregated
people with disabilities, never sent them to live separately from the
rest of the community." Her face was open and serious, her grey
eyes alight with curiosity. "I've always wondered why.'
     Spock nodded, matching her seriousness with his own.
"That is true. Partly it is because we were spared the affliction of
eugenic attitudes and the other ideological offshoots of your social
Darwinist era. More fundamentally, it may be because we do not
identify ourselves so much by ability and achievement as by our
connections with others in the community."
     "Explain." Maggie's gaze was focused on him,
single-mindedly. 
     "We define ourselves by our role within the family, within
the larger clan, by geography--for example, I am considered by
other Vulcans to be first and foremost the son or Sarek and
Amanda, of the clan headed by T'Pau, of the city of Shikahr. A
family member with a severe disability would be defined no
differently."
     She continued to question him, and he felt the space
contract around them, Jim's comfortable presence in the
background, as Maggie focused single-mindedly on him. Spock had
decided he could continue the conversation for several hours when
Maggie suddenly started and turned toward Jim, a guilty expression
on her face.
     Maggie rose from her chair and retrieved a small hand-held
recorder/viewer from her desk. "Jim, I almost forgot. I have at least
a hundred messages to give you. People have been calling here
non-stop since the Enterprise got back. I copied them on this
machine so you could play them back in your room or whatever.
Eighty percent of them are women, I might add. Some I didn't
know you were still in touch with ... " She thumbed the directory
button and read the names off slowly. "Danielle Marchand called,
and Felicia Quintero ... Melissa Wright ... Miriam Benrubi ... Amal
Nashat ...Fusako Yamaguchi ..."She pressed the button that made
the directory cycle more quickly, "Anna Redemskaya. Jocelyn
Thaxton. Isabelle Aulas. Ingrid Isaksen, Ting Pei, Saniya al-Khalidi,
Ipek Menderes, Indira Sabharwal, and--oh, yes, something even
came in from Ruth Davidow. She said that she and her husband
have just separated, and she'd like very much to see you...."
     Maggie shot her son a look full of significance, and Kirk's
face reddened. Spock realized that this must be *the* Ruth.  
     "Uh, Mother, that's all right. I'll just take the tapes and play
them over when I have time." Kirk grabbed the viewer from his
mother's hand before she had a chance to read any more names.
     Maggie looked up at him, puzzled and mildly amused. "All
right, I'm sure you'll want to spend some time deciding whom to see
this weekend. Just don't make the same date with more than three
women at a time ...."
     From her Sibylline smile, Spock could tell that this cryptic
remark had a history attached to it. Kirk continued to blush in
embarrassment; plainly, enlightenment was not going to come