Human

James T Kirk did not lightly admit to pre-flight nerves. He struggled for another explanation for his restlessness and knotted stomach as he materialised on the Enterprise transporter platform for the first time in just under a month. He'd been struck down with Rigellian fever, but in the middle of a diplomatic crisis in the Xaridian System, The Enterprise could not be spared. Kirk had been dropped off at Starbase Eight and left to recover. His ship had been in the hands of another for all that time.

It was not a real reason to feel uneasy, Kirk knew this. He had been updated on the ship's status as soon as he was fit enough. He knew that while his temporary replacement and crew had seen quite a month, that the full crew and ship had returned intact. He was forced to admit, the explanation for his anxiety was simple enough. He'd been away from his chair for just long enough to feel uneasy in the transition. In the time he'd been gone, the ship had been through a formidable battle and a long journey home. Kirk's replacement had both time and the galvanising power of collective danger, to gain the loyalty of his crew. Kirk's crew.

Lieutenant Kyle snapped to attention at the transporter panel as Kirk materialised.
"Welcome back, Captain." He spoke with such enthusiasm Kirk felt an embarrassing flood of gratitude.

Ignoring this, the captain smiled in return and gave a smart salute, which Kyle returned with a sloppy grin.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. It's good to be back."

As he made his way to the bridge, followed all the way by greetings and warm welcomes by beaming crew members, Kirk began to feel a little foolish. His crew's loyalty was not going to have shifted to another because he was ill for a few weeks. Besides, he admonished himself in the turbo lift, it wasn't as though he'd left the ship in the hands of a stranger. Nor, was the man who'd taken his place, likely to attempt to usurp him.

By the time he got to the bridge, Kirk was feeling rather guilty. The truth was, his first officer had been put in an extremely undesirable position when the Captain had fallen ill. If a commanding officer was out of commission for any extended length of time, another officer of equal or higher rank was required to take acting command until a permanent replacement was found or the original commander restored. As all available ships had been called to deal with the threat to the Gamma Xaridian civilians, there had been no time to find a replacement for the Enterprise's stricken captain. The ship was needed. It was fortunate for Starfleet Command, Kirk's crew were as extraordinary as the circumstances.

The turbo lift doors opened and Kirk was slightly surprised to find Sulu in the command chair and McCoy nowhere to be seen. He had assumed the reason his first officer and chief of medicine had not met him, most likely bickering, at the transporter, was that both were on the bridge.

"Captain on the bridge!"Chekov called with pleasure as apparent as Kyle's.

Sulu stood and turned to face Kirk with a smile.
"Welcome back, Sir." He gestured to the centre chair as Kirk grinned in reply.
"She's all yours."

"Thank you, Mister Sulu. It's good to be back." He was surprised to find a surge of fondness welling in his chest, for the bridge and most particularly the chair Sulu had just vacated. He resisted the urge to drop into his chair and get them all straight back into space, wasting no time in asking to be brought up to speed.

"Where's Mister Spock?" He asked Sulu.

Sulu's bright smile faltered slightly. Kirk felt an inexplicable twinge of anxiety.
"He's in his quarters." Sulu answered after a beat's pause.

Kirk waited for an elaboration. It was hardly in Spock's nature to be taking down time while they were picking up their captain. The sudden, entirely absurd worry Spock had somehow come down with the same illness he had, flashed through his mind. He reminded himself with inward irritation at his racing imagination, that Vulcans were immune to Rigellian Fever.

When Kirk's expression made it clear he was going to need more explanation, Sulu clasped his hands behind his back and did not quite meet Kirk's eyes.
"Sir, he's been signed off duty for most of the time you've been gone."

The twinge of anxiety turned to a stomach churning worry. Why, if something had gone wrong with Spock, had he not been told immediately? Spock was not only his friend, but the man he'd left in charge of his ship. Knowing he had not been in charge, changed everything. It took long practiced calm in the face of panic, to sound nothing more than slightly annoyed as he questioned Sulu.
"What? Why, what happened?"

Sulu shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"McCoy signed him off, Sir. You'd have to ask him."

A cold chill shot down Kirk's spine but he maintained his level stare.
"I'm asking you, Lieutenant. If my first officer has been signed off duty for some time, my bridge personnel know why." His tone changed to one of not-to-be-argued-with command.

Sulu looked desperately uncomfortable, but he met Kirk's penetrating stare with difficulty.
"He and Mister Scott got into an argument. Spock used his nerve pinch thing to knock him out. McCoy had him signed off and confined to quarters, he said the pressure had gotten to him. You'll have to ask him, if you want details."

Sulu turned to the helm, indicating their conversation was over. Kirk knew he could order him to face him, or to leave the bridge, anything he felt appropriate for a crew member who was bordering on giving him orders. He wished he could say the better part of valour stopped him. In truth, concern was giving way to rising panic and while he would talk to McCoy, he wasn't going to waste time before he saw Spock.

As he walked off the bridge, leaving Sulu the conn an unprecedented minute after arriving himself, Kirk looked towards the communications panel, but Uhura's beta officer was on duty. It didn't matter, Kirk realised, as Sulu had given him no reason to believe any other crewmember had been implicated in Spock's problem. If Uhura had been on duty, she may have been more sympathetic than Sulu appeared to be, but she could still not provide what Kirk really wanted, which was advice from his second in command.

He made the journey to Spock's quarters at as calm a speed as just about befitted a Star Ship Captain while the red alert siren was not sounding. At the doors, Kirk buzzed for entrance and felt a powerful wave of relief as Spock's voice answered.

"Come."

Spock's cabin was always dimly lit, compared to the rest of the ship. The lights were kept low and the temperature high. Like all officers quarters it differed from the cramped crew equivalents only in that it had a single bed instead of a bunk for two. It was just big enough for a bed, a desk and a small open space which most of the higher ranking crew used for more storage space. Kirk's, for example, was taken up with a chest of drawers full of civilian clothing and an impressive variety of grooming products, topped by a large mirror. Scotty's was taken up by a large bookcase full of often antique technical manuals.

Spock did have a small shelf of volumes, mostly in ancient Vulcan script, but for the most part he was not a man attached to material possessions. He had filled the limited space with what looked like a sculpture of a bear, with an eerily flickering flame between the paws. On the wall above, a deep red wall hanging showed a symbol of a circle pierced to the centre by a triangle. The combination of heat, firelight and red colouring, not to mention the pointy-eared occupant, should have been reminiscent of Terran religious imagery of Hell. For the short amount of time he could bear the heat, however, Kirk had always found it strangely soothing.

On the floor underneath the bear, there was a small meditation mat, on which Spock was sitting cross-legged as Kirk entered his cabin. Spock was already starting to rise at the sound of the buzzer, but got to his feet hurriedly as he caught sight of the captain in the doorway.

"Captain…" He faltered, clearly surprised into a momentary slip in his Vulcan mask. Kirk had spotted a fleeting look of…what, exactly? Pleasure? Relief?

"I am, pleased to see you back." Spock regained something closer to his usual composure.

Kirk nodded in acknowledgement, but could not pretend everything was normal, even for long enough to exchange formalities.
"Thanks, I'm a little bit pleased myself. Spock…what happened?"

Spock's gaze lowered, also unable to feign ignorance to the full depth of the question. He'd been left in command and instead, he was one step up from the brig; confined to quarters on medical authority, in lieu of arrest. Spock turned away from the captain, retreating further into his darkened quarters, waiting for Kirk to follow at a reasonable distance, before he answered.
"Doctor McCoy certified me unfit for command." He stated, in blunt summation of his ousting from the captain's chair. He did not hesitate before explaining his confinement too.

"Under the circumstances, relinquishing command was not deemed sufficient."

Kirk appreciated his candour, but while his voice remained steady there was a quietness about it that put the captain on edge. He was used to a certain robotic quality in Spock, an ability to speak both the most mundane and astonishing details in equally matter-of-fact tones. Whether bored or curious, the Vulcan always sounded calm, sure, confident. While he spoke clear fact now, there was nothing confident about it.

"The circumstances being?" Kirk pressed, wishing to hear how Spock saw it. He realised he should have checked the official records before visiting Spock, but at the time, seeing Spock himself had seemed more urgent.

"Assault on a fellow officer." Spock replied, turning just enough to meet the captain's eyes.

Kirk remained unmoved by the answer. He of all people knew, events were meaningless without context.
"And did you? Assault a fellow officer?"

"I cannot deny that." Spock stood a little straighter. The movement would have been invisible to most people, but Kirk knew the Vulcan well enough. He sensed, more than saw him straighten his shoulders. He also knew without needing to ask, the implication of Spock's choice of words. He could not deny he had assaulted another officer. He could and indeed did, deny he'd been wrong.

"You knocked Scotty out, using your nerve pinch." Kirk specified, wanting to make it clear he had at least some idea of what had happened, he simply did not know why.

Spock was almost at attention now, though his position in the most shadowed corner of his quarters removed any real sense of formality.
"Yes."

"Why?" Kirk asked without further preamble.

He was right, to imagine Spock would understand, he wanted to know the details. How, exactly, had he ended up stripped of command and confined to his quarters?

A short, just audible intake of breath preceded an outwardly calm, factual recounting.
"…The official report, states I froze on the bridge in a battle scenario, assaulting another officer in the line of his duty. It was deemed too high a risk to relieve me of command until the battle was over and the ship secured. Once this was done, the options were to allow Mister Scott to have me arrested, putting him at risk of accusations of mutiny, or for the Chief of Medicine to certify me unfit."

Kirk tried not to grimace at the thought. The consequences of mutiny were severe. He didn't doubt for a second, Spock would prefer his own position, to Scotty facing court martial. Even this, could not quite cover the note of confusion, at the role of the Enterprise's Chief of Medicine. In anyone else, it would have been straight forward anger, but while many of the claims regarding Vulcan immunity to emotion were apocryphal, Spock truly was not capable of such a base reaction.

"I understand." Kirk replied in solemn, almost-command tones. "Now tell me what really happened."

Spock blinked and looked at him properly, for the first time losing the glazed, sightless stare of a subordinate facing a commander.
"Sir?"

Kirk smiled faintly, utterly without humour.
"I'm not an idiot, Spock. If you agreed with the official report you would have just told me that's what happened, not told me that's what's in the report."

Spock turned again and moved towards the wall hanging, displaying the symbol Kirk was sure he'd seen before but could not quite place. He folded his arms across his chest, not in his normal gesture of calm, but somehow defensively. His hands were shaking.

Kirk swallowed hard.

"Spock…Your report, Commander."

Spock stared with dull, unseeing eyes at the wall as he obeyed the captain's command.

"The mission should have been finished, but in our exit from the Xaridian system, we were ambushed by Orion Pirates. They had seen the diplomatic difficulties of the Gamma Xaridian planet as an opportunity, but we had prevented their efforts from yielding anything of value to them. By the time we were out of the Xaridian system and able to warp, we were dangerously low on power. We had limited phaser power and firing the photon torpedoes could have blown out the impulse engines. In the event of the warp engines failing, we were going to need them."

Kirk listened, fighting not to wince at Spock's description, though the Vulcan at least was achieving respectable detachment. What Spock was describing set Kirk's teeth on edge. His ship, his crew, faced with an unprovoked attack. It should not have happened, but if it had to, he should have been there. Spock continued, oblivious.

"We were trapped, unless we could break through their lines. Mr Scott believed we should have used the remaining power to strengthen the shields, but that would have bought us minutes at best. I calculated the possibility of firing photon torpedoes at the last second, before they came close enough to fire again. It gave us a chance to rebuild the power, fire and go to warp… but it ran the risk of the Orion ships achieving a fatal hit before we got to warp, as our shields were down."

It took Kirk a moment to register Spock had fallen silent, evidently collecting his thoughts. He took a step closer, hoping the slight movement would be enough to prompt him. If Spock noticed his movement, he gave no indication.

"And?" Kirk prompted, almost at a whisper. He was faintly exasperated to find he was curious about the outcome of the battle, as much from a tactician's perspective as from a captain's concern.

Spock looked up and met Kirk's eye with a sudden intensity that had the captain momentarily drawing back. When he spoke his voice was level, but for a moment he displayed a most un-Vulcan need to hurry his explanation, as though getting to the end in less time would in some way dampen the consequences.
"Mister Scott tried to stop me. He was shouting on the bridge instead of doing what I asked. We were running out of time, so I told him to leave. He tried to stop me approaching the engineering panel, so I incapacitated him."

For the end at least, Kirk couldn't argue with the conciseness of Spock's blunt confession. He felt, however, that one crucial detail was missing.
"Your manoeuvre worked, didn't it." He surmised quietly. Whatever had gone wrong, it had not been Spock's decisions in the battle, Kirk was certain of it.

Spock resumed his blank gaze into the meditative flame, slowing down to something more like his usual timbre.

"Yes, but the port side engines were damaged as we went to warp. We were immobilised in uncharted territory for some time."

A sudden, instinctive understanding of where Spock's command had come unstuck, sent a chill of disgust down Kirk's spine. He had gotten the ship clear of the battle, but far from gratitude, his crew had repaid him with the blame of the damaged ship.
"Time, Scotty spent repairing the engines. Cleaning up your mess." Kirk did not entirely succeed in removing revulsion from his voice.

Spock did not look at him, but his head lowered and he gave a short nod of confirmation.

How, Kirk wanted to know, frustration welled inside him as his confusion only grew. At a stretch, he could understand Scotty having been angry enough to want Spock removed from command. He was entirely at a loss, to understand how it had happened. Spock was within his rights to defend himself and his bridge, if he felt it threatened by insubordination. How, had it led to a medical sign off?

"Spock, how did McCoy certify you? He would have needed an examination." Kirk asked, in lieu of the more emotionally charged questions swirling in his mind.

"I submitted to that without protest, once the red alert was passed. It is standard procedure, should the chief of medicine request." Spock explained softly.

Something about his wording surprised Kirk. Far from reproach, he almost seemed to be pointing out, McCoy had given him a choice. Kirk raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"He could have pulled rank, in fact."

The Vulcan nodded again, raising his gaze to meet the captain's.
"Yes. He did not."

It felt wrong, somehow, to press him for details on why he'd been signed off. McCoy would have had to file a report anyway. Even if, like the official report on the events of the battle, it was not Kirk's idea of accurate. He settled instead, for a more straight forward question, though it was no less difficult to ask.

"Were you, unfit to command?"

Spock's gaze became glassy and distant. He seemed uncertain of how to answer. Kirk fought to repress a shudder. Spock was Vulcan, his answer could only be factual, whether all or some of the facts available to him. For him to be uncertain, meant he didn't really know.

"Spock. Were you?" Kirk's voice was insistent, strained with the effort of suppressing concern.

Spock looked at him straight. An act of obedience, Kirk noted, not of any increased surety.

"I…am."

The hesitation melted Kirk's resolve entirely. He wanted to ask what was wrong, what could possibly have made Spock think he'd gone wrong when logic and reason should have told him he'd saved the ship. He'd done what he always did in fact, he'd laid aside any concern for his own position, to save the most lives he could. He didn't know how to sway the crew to his calculations, he just knew he was right. He had probably pointed out that his manoeuvre had a good chance (or given the exact probability) of resulting in zero casualties, while staying and raising the shields would certainly result in many, maybe the entire ship.

Kirk would have done and indeed said, almost exactly the same thing. The difference would be he would have lit his claims with belief and passion, while Spock gave only statistics. Kirk could hardly claim Spock's Vulcan ways had not given him cause for anger in the past too, but it wasn't his fault. The shallow veneer of righteous indignation shouldn't be the difference between the total faith generally given Kirk and near-mutiny, as had befallen Spock.

He watched his Vulcan friend; distracted, wary, fighting vainly to still trembling hands. He was clearly in the grip of a strong physical infirmity if it was not, as it appeared to human eyes, considerable emotional distress. He was right, Kirk realised with gut clenching horror. He was unfit to command. Maybe not when Scotty had accused him, possibly not even when McCoy had requested an examination, but at that moment, with Kirk back on board, he was not even close to fit for duty. Kirk couldn't quite bring himself to ask why.

"Spock, listen. …I left you in command of my ship and despite a hopeless outnumbering in a fire fight, you have returned every single member of my crew to me, alive. Thank you."

Spock stared at him, confused, but something else too. Kirk had a sudden shiver of wonder if it wasn't anger.

"On my authority you are no longer confined to quarters. If, however you are, as you say, unfit at the moment, we'll need to fix that. Please, stay here, I'll be back."

Spock said nothing as he left, not moving, not lowering the dark, blank gaze that spoke of possible fury. That one wasn't hard to figure out. Needing medical attention, meant needing help from McCoy. McCoy it would appear, was the reason he'd been confined to his quarters for three weeks.

When Captain Kirk had reached the medbay, he was informed by a slightly harried looking nurse, that Doctor McCoy was busy with a patient. More to the point, he was performing an emergency operation on one of his team who had suddenly collapsed.

The nurse, a man by the name of Carter, if Kirk remembered correctly, seemed very much put out when the Captain requested more information. One of his crew members being taken ill was, Kirk felt, something he had a right to be concerned about, but the nurse seemed to think Kirk was accusing him of something.

One gentle reprimand and several questions later, the captain learned a young medical orderly had been suffering from an undiagnosed ulcer, which had perforated that morning. Kirk couldn't imagine why in the world one of McCoy's nurses would have been reluctant to part with such information.

No, he thought, watching the other man leave in a hurry, he hadn't been trying to avoid giving information. He'd been trying to avoid stopping to talk. Were they so busy, while in space dock, that crew members felt pestered by their captain?

Kirk debated returning to the bridge, but the early surge of fondness he'd felt for his old seat had somewhat dimmed in the knowledge it had not been occupied by Spock for the four weeks he'd been gone. He settled instead, for leaving Sulu in charge and waiting for McCoy in his office.

Less than an hour passed, before the doctor made his appearance. He opened the door with his back, balling up blood smeared surgical scrubs in his hands as he walked. He was just about to throw the scrubs in his waste disposal chute, when he spotted Kirk. A look of alarm, replaced almost instantly by delight crossed his ordinarily scowling face as he turned.

"Jim! It's good to see you, sorry I was in surgery."

Kirk smiled, warmed by the familiar welcome.
"I know I heard, how is she?" He asked, vacating his position perched on the edge of McCoy's desk.

McCoy waved a distracted hand, discarding his scrubs and flopping into his chair.
"She'll be fine now. Come sit down." He added, waving a hand to the empty chair in front of his desk. He reached behind him to his drinks cabinet as he spoke.

Kirk obliged him and sat in the available chair, opposite his longest standing friend in Starfleet. He felt relief loosen the knots of confusion in his gut. Relief, with a considerable urge to share his worries immediately. McCoy had that effect on most people and nobody indulged his parental tendencies more than the captain.

"Bones, I-" Kirk cut himself off almost immediately, as McCoy turned back to face him, drink in hand. "…Is that brandy?" He asked, eyebrow raised.

"It most certainly is." Bones smirked at him.

"Are you drinking on duty?" Kirk demanded, somewhere between amusement and the official reproach he probably ought to have been giving.

McCoy cocked an eyebrow of his own.
"No, I'm drinking as I come off duty." He replied with the ease of the innocent. Kirk suppressed a snort of amusement at his indignation. "Should have been off three hours ago in fact but hey, that's a doctor's lot."

The smile faded from the captain's face as he sensed a note of bitterness in McCoy's tone. Bones complained about everything, almost literally, everything, but never in the four years they'd known each other, had Kirk heard McCoy sound truly annoyed he'd been overworked.

"Bones, are you alright?" He questioned, in the lightest tone he could muster.

McCoy was almost theatrical in his bewilderment at the question.
"Me? Never better! Why wouldn't I be?" He took a large gulp of brandy as if to underscore his wellbeing.

Kirk tried a different tack.
"When was the last time you saw Spock?"

McCoy stiffened, before swallowing his brandy in one go.

"This morning. Standard procedure, crew member off duty is checked on at least twice a day." He murmured, eyes on his drink.

"What's wrong with him?" Kirk asked without further preamble. McCoy had not exactly evaded his question, but Kirk didn't like the rigidity of his answer either.

"…What do you mean?"

Kirk's eyes narrowed.
"Why did you sign him off duty?"

McCoy put down his empty glass and sat up a little straighter in his seat.
"The report is detailed and clear. If you've just come from seeing Spock yourself, then you know from him too."

"I'm asking you." Kirk stated without blinking.

"Yes but why, Captain?" McCoy returned, no longer pretending to be comfortable with Kirk's line of questioning, he leaned forward against his desk.

"I, did not take over his command. I didn't force him to submit to an examination or to accept my certification. It seems to me your questions should be for Scotty, or Spock himself."

For several moments, Kirk simply sat and stared at him. This was Spock, they were talking about. Why McCoy would choose this, of all moments, to be cagey about a diagnosis, Kirk could not fathom. Or perhaps, he thought with a grimace, remembering Spock's bewilderment and barely contained anger, he just didn't want to imagine.

He took a long, slow breath.
… "You've never minded me asking for your opinion before, Bones." He pointed out, voice quiet and gentle, attempting to conceal neither confusion nor concern.

"He's sick, or…something's wrong at least. He's edgy and nervous and I get the distinct impression the Great Wall of Vulcan is both in full force and on the edge of crumbli-"

McCoy's fist suddenly slammed on the table and the Doctor was on his feet. Kirk was cut off and startled into silence.
"He screwed up, Jim! He lost it on the bridge and attacked another officer. Blind luck stopped him from killing us all. I pulled him out of the line of mutiny or worse, what else was I supposed to do?!"

McCoy's blazing blue eyes bore into shining hazel and Kirk let his astonishment show.

"…Doctor, why are you shouting when I just asked you a question? I come back from an illness and find my first officer has been signed off, surely a few questions are reasonable?"

Whether he recognised he was being let off from the distinct insubordination he'd shown, was not clear, but McCoy slowly sat back down.
"Yes, well, you've asked them, now please, go. I'd like to get some sleep." He muttered, eyes on his desk.

Kirk was far from finished. He had no answers to his real question, of what was wrong with Spock, nor had his concerns been in any way lessened by their discussion so far. He stood up, watching the doctor closely.
"Bones," He asked at length, anger and even command, gone from his voice. "What did you mean, mutiny or worse?"

McCoy looked up at the gentle tone. For the first time, Kirk saw past the strain of a long shift to honest exhaustion, as the doctor sighed.

"Someone could have gotten really hurt. He could have done. The crew were not impressed and he can only do his voodoo hand trick with so many of us at once."

Without explanation, Kirk felt another cold shiver down his spine. McCoy had said he'd "pulled him out of the line of mutiny", suggesting he felt what he'd done had been the best thing for Spock. What had he feared would be the result of Spock and Scotty's fight, to make him think such drastic action could possibly be for the best?

Then again, Spock himself had admitted he was unfit for duty. Perhaps McCoy was right, he had done what was necessary and Spock was simply in some way unwell.

None of the questions, old or new, nor answers, such as they were, brought the captain any comfort. He could not make sense of any of it. A fight on the bridge was… well it was how Kirk had ended up captain of the Enterprise and Spock his first officer, to be honest. On that memorable occasion, Spock had just watched his planet destroyed and his mother murdered. On that day, Kirk had definitely believed Spock was unfit for command. On that day, and on no other, indeed no other moment, since. An acting captain incapacitating an officer who refused his orders was in fact, not even against regulations. It seemed to Kirk that Spock had prevented a mutiny.

Officially, of course, no mutiny had taken place and for that, Kirk believed the crew had Spock to thank. In Kirk's mind, however, he could not describe being stripped of command and confined to his quarters as Spock had been, as anything else. It seemed instead, in one day Spock had been both the prevention and the victim of an unofficial and unpunished mutiny.

Leonard McCoy disagreed. The ship's chief medical officer and Kirk's best friend, believed Spock had been the problem.

Kirk wondered idly if the doctor had any real intention of sleeping. Like the rest of his medical staff, it seemed he'd been mostly interested in not talking to Kirk. It was an odd contrast to the welcome he'd received on first beaming back aboard not three hours earlier.

The thought reminded him, his crew while somewhat on edge, had been genuinely happy to have him back. He'd been on board for all of a few minutes, before giving the bridge back to Sulu. He wasn't sure the logic was exactly watertight, but he decided to return to his post, returning at least a semblance of normality to the ship while he considered his next move.

The bridge was still comforting to the captain, despite his general unease. The crew ticked over as normal and, with the exception of the unfamiliar young ensign at the science station, Kirk had to admit all did indeed, appear normal.

He had called down to engineering soon after retaking the chair and found Scotty as delighted to have him back as Sulu and McCoy. Kirk finally realised what was so strange about this. Of course, his senior staff, especially those among them who were his friends, were going to be pleased he was back to health and back to ship. What was odd, was that none of them seemed apprehensive at all, about what he might have to say about Spock's situation. In sharp contrast, the moment he brought it up, they all clammed up completely. It struck Kirk as faintly ridiculous. After all, they had surely not imagined he wasn't going to mention it?

Once Scotty had finished evading his questions about what had happened, Kirk gave up trying to get answers out of those directly involved, at least. He guessed Sulu felt some measure of responsibility as the man who'd taken Spock's place as first in command. Why was it, he wondered, if everyone who'd been there felt some collective guilt about it all, was nobody willing to tell him what had happened in any detail and why, were they all so determined to make it clear Spock had been in error?

Though his frustration was in no way lessened, the hours spent on the bridge calmed him somewhat. It was a small mercy that the Enterprise had indeed taken a battering while he'd been gone, meaning he could not take the ship back into space immediately. He wanted an answer to his many questions, before he took his ship and crew out again. He spent the time on the bridge instead catching up on as much of the official reports and logs of the time he'd been gone as possible. The crew buzzing around him, coupled with the intermittent dramatic reports from engineering about the damage to Scotty's precious 'bairns', went someway to removing Kirk's unexplained sense of foreboding.

He accepted he was deeply unhappy with the incident which had taken place in his absence, but he felt his head clearing enough to remove his earlier discomfort it had caused with the entire ship.

The Alpha shift finished and Kirk knew he had to return to Spock, but he wasn't sure what else he could say. He had learnt nothing new. He'd read the official report and spoken to the officers involved, but Spock had told him everything he'd find there already.

He decided before he went back to see Spock with precisely nothing new to say, he had one last port of call to make with the crew.

He found Uhura in the mess hall, eating with a handful of others from her department. He studied her from afar, searching for clues as to her mood. She had now witnessed her partner declared unfit for command, twice, in his relatively short career. In this instance, he'd been essentially imprisoned for three weeks and as far as Kirk could see, he was suffering for it. He would have been surprised and more than a little concerned, to find Uhura was not in some way affected by this.

On the surface, she appeared perfectly normal. To watch her chat quietly to her fellow linguists, it would have been hard to guess there was anything wrong. Kirk had to admit he was relieved, however, to note that Sulu and Scotty were sitting at another table nearby and had clearly been there longer than Uhura. As familiar with his crew as he was, Kirk knew this meant she had deliberately avoided them. Even this, minor sign of discomfort at what had transpired, was more than he'd gotten without pushing for information from any of his other trusted officers so far.

Uhura looked up and offered a bright smile as Kirk moved across to her table.
"Captain. Welcome back." She greeted him. Kirk thought he heard a faint note of relief in her warm tone.

"It's good to be back, Lieutenant. Could I borrow you, for a moment?" Kirk asked, keeping his own tones as neutral as possible. He waited until she had stood to oblige him, before gesturing towards the doors to the recreation dec.

"Walk with me."

If Uhura picked up on the change from a request to an order, albeit gently delivered, she did not react. He was grateful for her calm acceptance as he left the hall in silence, moving a considerable distance into the faux greenery of the largest space on the rec dec before he spoke another word.

Eventually, he stopped in the shade of some impressively real looking imitation oak trees. Uhura watched him expectantly. Unlike his conversations with Sulu, then McCoy, then Scotty, Kirk got directly to the point.
"What's going on, Uhura? Why is everyone's tale of what exactly happened while I was gone so reluctantly given, why do they all involve an overly defensive assertion the Enterprise could have been destroyed and what, exactly, is wrong with Spock?"

Uhura had listened calmly to the string of questions without much in the way of reaction, but she flinched at the last. Her averted gaze did not fill Kirk with confidence. He was about to repeat his demand for answers, when she spoke, attention fixed on the trees behind Kirk.

… "I suspect he's in a bit of a…well, whatever the Vulcan version of a 'funk' would be." She muttered at last. "I think he's struggling to control his emotional responses. Struggling so hard it's costing him a lot of energy and concentration."

"It's making him ill." Kirk stated, unwilling to allow either of them to be anything less than direct.

Uhura sighed, jaw clenching at the unspoken reproach, forcing herself to meet Kirk's eyes.

"Yeah." She agreed softly.

"Why has nothing been done?" Kirk demanded, frustration finally bubbling over.

"A sick crew member, even if they have been relieved of command, maybe especially, shouldn't have been left alone in his quarters for three weeks." He ground out, aware he was being unfair, giving this particular rant to Uhura, when strictly speaking that was between the CMO and whoever was in command.

"He hasn't been." Uhura argued, without complaint at Kirk's accusation. "Doctor McCoy has been checking on him and…I've tried too."

Kirk shook his head, struggling not to glare. She knew better than this. All of his command crew knew, this was not acceptable.
"I'm not talking about social calls or procedurals, Uhura. If I got sick and stayed that way for three weeks, what would Spock have done?"

Uhura stared at Kirk in helpless confusion for a long moment.
"…I don't know." She answered at last.

"He'd have docked, unless we were in the middle of a mission." Kirk told her, keeping rising anger out of his voice with difficulty.

"He would have brought the Enterprise in at it's nearest Starbase."

"How would that help?" Uhura protested. "McCoy is the best-"

Kirk cut her off mid-sentence.
"It's not about available treatment, Uhura. You can't just leave a crew member trapped in ships quarters for weeks!" He all but exploded. Uhura grimaced but he didn't pause.

"If he wasn't fit to be on duty, for an extended period, he needed to be off the ship."

Uhura's eyes widened in apparent horror at the very thought.
"That's…like marooning him."

"No, locking him in his quarters for three weeks, is like marooning him." Kirk corrected brutally, no longer suppressing his accusing tone.

"At least when he marooned me it was roughly in the vicinity if a Starfleet facility. On the ship, you're risking your life in every moment, because nobody else can do your job. If you can't do it, you can't be here, for your sake and for everyone else's too. That is why I haven't been here for a month! You all know this." "

Jim Kirk didn't often quote regulations, nor lecture his crew on the dangers of space travel and the importance of following rules. If the thought occurred to her that he was being somewhat hypocritical, Uhura kept it to herself.

"Nobody would make that call in your absence, Jim." She spoke, voice calm but flat. It was her turn to sound accusing as she locked into his hazel gaze once more.

"If you want him gone you'll have to call it now, while we're docked."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Kirk sniped in response. "Instead of that, I might do what it seems no one else has bothered with for three weeks and find out what's wrong with him."

He turned to leave, no longer able to endure a discussion where despite the efforts of both, to be as direct as possible, they were still not getting to the point most inexplicable to Kirk. This was Spock. Surely, Uhura should be delighted Kirk would appear to be taking his side?

"Uhura, one other thing…" He asked, pausing.

"Yes, Captain?" Came the stiff reply.

Kirk looked over his shoulder and caught her eye again. She looked back at him steadily.
"…Do you think he messed up, on the bridge in the battle?"

Uhura raised her head slightly. Though her stance indicated defiance at the unspoken challenge, Uhura's voice indicated more sadness than anything else.
"I think he miscalculated. To his cost."