This is my first try at an actual chapter fanfiction for Star Trek. This chapter is very short...as will most of my chapters probably be. But that will allow me to update more swiftly I think...

Anyway, I only own Star Trek in my dreams. If I did own it Kirk and Spock would be totally canon.

Speaking of which, this is a story about boy/boy love. Don't like don't read.

"Captain, the transporter is malfunctioning..."

A pause of silence echoed across the transporter room as Jim Kirk took in the news that Scotty had just relayed. For a brief second Jim was glad that the two were alone in the room, having even Bones busy with the refugees that had recently been transported in the med bay.

The first officer was the only being left to transport, as he insisted on being the last, insuring the refugees' safety. He had called it his "duty as first officer. Captain, you would do the same..." Jim could hear the communicator say in his approximate memory. He had been proud (again) of his crew, specifically his First.

He had been feeling a lot of things for his First recently...

And now the transporter was malfunctioning with only one remaining. Jim tried to force back the last conversation they had had from his mind, which was on the way to the transporter room itself before Spock had beamed down to assist the inhabitants off of the dying planet. Kirk was originally planning on doing the job himself, but Spock had given him a look and Kirk had understood. Spock had needed this. For his own losses, his own planet, his mother...

It was in that determined gaze that Kirk had decided something important. He was going to go for it. Hell, a person only lives once. He wasn't going to live without at least determining if his First Officer might ever give him the time of day. As soon as Spock was back on board he would do it. He would ask him...

But the transporter was malfunctioning.

The silent echo was broken by a communicator being flipped open. "Kirk to Spock."

"Spock here."

"Commander, the transporter is malfunctioning. How much time do we have?"

"Time if of the essence, Captain. Are the transporters operational in any way?"

Kirk shot a wild glance at his chief engineer. Scotty seemed to hesitate before opening his mouth. "Ay, the transporters are operational, but highly unstable. Ah've never seen this pattern on the screen graphics before, and it's highly unsteady..."

"But they are operational?"

"Aye, Captain."

Kirk turned back to the communicator, "Mr. Spock, the transporters are operational, but unsteady. Is there any time at all that we could have to attempt to stabilize the contact...?"

"Negative Captain. I believe I would rather risk the beam then a certain demise here on the planet's surface."

Jim heaved a heavy sigh that was meant for a much older man before answering in a more confident voice than he felt, "One to beam up?"

"One to beam up."

It almost didn't happen. The lights flickered to life and then faded away three times before a form was recognized in the beam. The Captain's heart leapt as the form appeared, and stilled completely as the figure materialized and finally became completely solid.

Scotty gasped.

A tinkling sing-song voice lit up the air in inquiry before it cut itself off, "Capt...?"

Every pair of eyes in the room grew wide in disbelief. Standing on the transporter pad was a young Vulcan woman hidden in a Starfleet uniform that was much too big, the pants nearly falling from her rounded hips. Her small rounded breasts began rapidly rising and falling under her too large shirt as her breathing seemed to become more difficult. Her short, perfectly trimmed hair was ruffled and full of dirt and other debris from the dying planet's surface. Her large eyes were wide, dark orbs, contrasting her large lashes against eyelids that were quickly draining color.

"...Captain..." The Vulcan woman fell to the floor as Jim rushed towards her in panic.

"Spock!"

If you liked it be happy. I have the next two chapters ready. If you did not, be glad it was short.

Reviews are gladly appreciated.