Spock and McCoy stood just aside a closed curtain in the sickbay, looking grim. Much of the crew had gathered to see what had happened to their beloved captain. Some sort of accident with a gift from an alien diplomat had incapacitated the man the second he had touched it. Since then he had been confined to the sickbay.
"Alright," McCoy said, breaking the awkward silence that had descended over them. "The captain..." he paused, looking for the right words to say. The crew held their breath in expectation, dreading the worst. "Is perfectly fine, however...he seems to have some sort of...vocal disability."
Spock stepped forward then, drawing the attention to himself. "He seems to have a limited use of the English language currently," Spock elaborated, clasping his arms behind his back and quirking an eyebrow. "He cannot articulate himself properly as you all may be able to and thusly, do not take offense when his responses are...confusing."
"Or insulting," McCoy grumbled, shaking his head. "We're trying to find the cause but until now, he will be on active duty as he can communicate through written word correctly."
Everyone was relieved, at least, that their beloved captain wasn't dying or near dead (again). They didn't have time to share their condolences with their captain as the grumpy CMO chased them out of sickbay as soon as the briefing was over. "Spread the word!" McCoy yelled after them.
Jim was standing right behind him when he turned around and he jumped. "The men and women of Sparta submit to no ruler," the captain gravely warned. Bones gave him a wary look and pushed him out of his way.
"So, you're on that whole fixing the captain thing, right?" Bones growled, glaring at Spock as he stalked past. Spock nodded once and walked out of the sick bay. McCoy counted to ten. "Jim!" he snapped.
"Yes, my lady?"
"Get the fuck out."
"Yes, my lady."
*
Lunchtime, 1300; Officer's Mess.
Chekov grinned at Sulu, jabbing his fork at the Japanese pilot. "Yah! It really happened that way," he insisted, ignoring Sulu's eyeroll. "He really said that to me after everyone left." He cleared his throat and sat up straighter, furrowing his brows in attempt to look more serious. "' Hundreds leave, a handful stay. Only one looks back,'" he said in a deep, theatrical voice.
"That's bullshit," Sulu replied, wiping his mouth off with a napkin. "I think this whole thing with the captain talking weird has been blown out of proportion. I talked to him twice and he sounded exactly the same!"
"Sometimes he does and sometimes—"
"Spartans!" Jim's voice boomed across the mess. Everyone turned to look in gaping shock. Their captain looked completely serious, with one leg up on a chair and a fork in one hand, raised out to them, and a plate in the other hand, pressed to his chest. Somebody across the room began choking. "Ready your breakfast and eat hearty…for tonight we dine in HELL!"
"Told you so," Chekov quipped, looking smug. Sulu shook his head and just wished it wasn't true.
*
"Chekov is spreading interesting rumors about your," Bones searched for the right word and failed, "problem."
Jim eyed him curiously and shrugged. He picked up his PADD and scribbled down a few words before tipping it to show to Bones. Like what?
"Apparently something about you needing to be naked with nothing but a cape," Bones answered, amused. He leaned back in his desk chair, quirking an eyebrow. "No one really gets the joke though."
I get the feeling you like the idea, Bones Jim waggled his eyebrows and leaned towards Bones, grinning lasciviously.
Bones smacked him upside the head. "Wrong," he ground out, crossing his arms over his chest.
Jim's expression turned grave and he reached across Bones' desk, touching his elbow. "It would take more than the words than a drunken adolescent girl to rob me of my desire of you," he said, doing that odd thing where he furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at people from under them. Bones assumed it was supposed to be intimidating (or something) but it made Jim look more like he had a problem with his neck.
"What the fuck does that even mean?" Bones asked, giving Jim a baffled look.
Let's have a slow-motion, blue-hued sex scene? Jim dropped the PADD on the table and shrugged, grinning. Bones stopped trying to make sense of the matter, smacked Jim again and banished him from his office for the rest of the day.
"HA-OOH! HA-OOH! HA-OOH!" Jim yelled as he headed down the hall, startling a few ensigns. Bones shook his head and turned back into his office, planning to lock himself in there for as long as it took Jim to get better. If not longer.
*
"Apparently, sir, this artifact reacts strongly to the thoughts or desires of the person who is holding it specifically in a cultural way," Spock explained, gesturing to the odd-looking slightly phallic vase that was Jim's unfortunate gift from an alien diplomat. "If there is anything in your mind, from any time in your life, particularly important to your race that is relevant to your current desires it manifests it in your everyday life."
Spock looked over the ready room full of officers and then at Jim, raising his eyebrow. "Questions?"
Jim immediately raised his hand.
"Yes, captain?"
Jim held up his PADD, WHAT?
Bones held up a hand, head bowed as he ground his teeth and glared at the table. "Can we fix this or not, Spock?" he hissed, snapping his glare up at Spock. Amongst the officers gathered there, he wasn't the only one looking frazzled. In fact, each was wearing their own cinched expression like that of one who was enduring a constant annoyance.
Spock looked down at Bones and then back at Jim. He did the closest thing to a Vulcan sigh, exhaling, and shook his head. "No, it must run it's course."
There was a bang from the end of the table. Everyone turned to look; it had been Sulu's head hitting the table. Jim stood suddenly, hands pressed on the table top and looked over each of the officers. The room went still, all people within bracing themselves for the new bit of insanity that was going to fall from their captain's mouth.
"This is madness," Jim breathed, wide-eyed.
"Theese is Sparta!" Chekov exclaimed as shot up from his chair, beaming. He looked around expectantly, as if waiting to be awarded for his witty retort, but like many of his relevant jokes of the day, it fell flat.
Will one day be concluded....one day