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When Jim heard that an android had been admitted for the first time to Starfleet Academy, he didn’t pay much heed to the news.
“About time, too,” he thought, tucking in his pancakes. “What’s so different, anyways? With emotional chips and aging programs it’s hard to tell an android from a biological being.”
He finished his meal and picked up his tray. According to the chronometer in the canteen, he had five minutes to get back to the lecture hall.
After the classes, he grabbed a quick lunch with Bones and headed to the library determined to go over his papers on Warp Field Theory and Klingon Syntax.
While choosing the books in the catalog, he got acquainted with a cadet who was working on the similar topic. He introduced himself as Pavel Andreievich Chekov, but generously allowed Jim to call him Pasha. Jim enjoyed talking to him, even though the guy fervently declared that most things in the world had been invented in his home country, stopping short of announcing that Klingon syntax was borrowed from his native language.
Two hours later, Pasha made all the notes he needed, wished him lots of fun with his papers, and left. When Jim completed his work and exited the library, it was already dark. Before going to the room, he decided to have a stroll around the campus to get some fresh air.
It was rare that one could see the stars in San Francisco. At least, not so many. And wasn’t that a hidden mockery—studying in the Starfleet Academy and never being able to see the stars? Surprisingly, tonight the sky was clear, reminding him of the nights in Iowa, when he would lie in the wheat and gaze into the endless sky. The wheat under him would radiate the heat accumulated during the day, the cicadas would be singing their tune, and it would smell of ground and dry grass. His mind would be light years away, travelling among the stars.
At that moment, looking up at the sky, Jim realized how much he’d missed that sight. It was overwhelming to feel tiny and big at the same time. An infinitesimal part of the infinite Universe.
Suddenly, he sensed a presence at his side. He turned his head and saw a Vulcan looking at the stars too, about three meters away from him.
“That’s definitely a tall-dark-and-handsome bingo.” Jim noted, while aloud he said, “Hi there. It’s beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”
The Vulcan considered him for a moment.
“Affirmative.”
“My name’s Jim, by the way.”
“You may call me Spock.”
“I haven’t seen you before. What are you studying?”
“I am engaged in Command and Science divisions.” Spock paused. “What are your interests in the Academy?”
“Command and Engineering. And I’m doing my damnedest to graduate in three years.”
He saw the slanted eyebrows rise at this.
“The accelerated course is a challenging endeavor that requires full commitment and high intelligence.”
“You don’t believe in me, Spock?” Jim batted his eyelashes.
It was countered with a blank stare.
“I do not have the necessary data to reach a conclusion in this regard.”
Jim chuckled.
“Okay, seriously—I think the effort is worth it.” He glanced up at the stars meaningfully, and Spock followed his gaze.
The stars were flickering and dancing. The dark of the space accentuated their iciness.
“Beautiful.” Jim heard himself breathe out.
He felt a scrutinizing look on his face. What was he doing, waxing all poetic at an almost complete stranger?
Jim coughed self-consciously.
“Anyway, I’d better be going. Otherwise, my roommate is gonna get really grumpy. Well, grumpier than usual.”
“I will take my leave as well. I am gratified to have made an acquaintance with you.”
“Me too. It’d be cool to meet up at the canteen tomorrow. What d’ya think?”
Spock tilted his head and seemed to be reflecting on something.
“It could be arranged. My first lecture starts at nine hundred.”
“Works for me. See you at breakfast.” Jim waved, gave a small smile at Spock’s ta’al and offered his in return (“offered” being a word an optimist would use, whereas “carefully crafted” and “willed it into shape” would be more truthful).
When Jim entered the room he shared with Bones, his roommate was still up, reading something on his PADD. Bones took one look at him, and his eyebrows knitted together.
“What’s this with a sunny smile? Didn’t know you loved the library that much.”
***
It was easy to find the Vulcan in the canteen. There was a unique grace and precision in his movements, but he seemed somehow isolated in this place full of frenetic energy and the loud buzz of conversation. He was slicing through the crowd, not interacting with any cadets, as if occupying a different dimension.
Spock looked up, and their eyes met, jolting Jim out of his stupor.
Reigning in his turmoil, he beckoned Spock to his table. The invitation was met with a curt nod.
Bones was sleeping in after a night shift at the hospital, so Jim was sitting alone. When Spock came up to the table, there was no tray in his hands, just a thermos.
It was hard to ignore the curious glances from other cadets. The burly-looking fellow at the table nearby glanced sideways at them, did a double take and turned away with a vague air of disdain. Jim wondered what that was all about. He didn’t recall crossing paths with that guy before. Did his reputation get ahead of him as it sometimes did?
“Good morning, Jim.”
“Morning, Spock. Glad you could join me.” Jim grinned and motioned for him to take a sit.
“What are you up to today?”
“Do you mean to ask what I intend to do?”
“Yep. What are your plans?” Jim put his empty plate on the tray and took a cup of coffee from it. One of the many today, he was sure. Good thing Bones hadn’t picked up on this yet.
“I have three lectures and a meeting with the heads of the division and afterwards I plan to visit the laboratory to access the equipment.” Spock made a sip of whatever he had in his thermos.
“Ah yes, I remember you told me you’re in Science.” The canteen was getting crowded, and, for some reason, many cadets kept staring at them. What the hell? Was his bedhead that bad? Jim ran a hand through his hair.
“Jim—” Spock put his thermos down, snapping it shut. There was something resigned about the sound.
Jim glanced back at him guiltily. “Sorry, I got distracted—You see, they—”
“Jim,” Spock cut off his babbling. “Your behavior indicates that you do not know certain information. It is an error on my part. I should have ensured that you possessed these data at the beginning of our association.” Association? The word played on repeat in his head. What a weird word to describe their—to describe them.
The grip on the thermos seemed to grow uncomfortably tight, even though Spock’s voice was even and face blank.
Was Spock breaking some Vulcan tradition talking to him? Was afraid to pick up a nasty virus of Human illogic? Worked as a spy? Took a vow of silence? Was terminally ill? “Or, a little voice in his head supplied helpfully, “he’s simply in a committed relationship and is not in the least interested in your advances.” Was he—Were there any advances really?
“I should have informed you earlier that I am not a biological entity. I am an android.”
“Android.” Jim repeated intelligently.
His eyes darted from one detail of Spock’s face to another. His upswept eyebrows, sharp cheekbones, brown eyes, tight line of his mouth.
“Affirmative.” They sat in silence for a moment, looking at each other across the table. “Should I leave?” Spock asked, apparently, giving up waiting for any response.
“What? No.” Shaking his head, Jim made a move to stand up as if Spock was going to run away. “Of course not. I was just surprised. That’s all.”
“Are you certain you have no objections to the communication with me?”
“Yes, absolutely certain, Spock. We have been talking just fine, haven’t we? I really enjoy your company.” Jim looked at the table next to them. “It’s a pleasure and privilege to know you. Don’t let those assholes make you think low of yourself. You’re perfect as you are.”
“I appreciate your sentiment, Jim.” Spock’s upper lip ticked upwards.
Only then Jim realized that his cheeks were burning, and his breath was quick and shallow. Man, he’d gotten really riled up over this.
***
Over the next couple of week Jim spent almost all his free time with Spock. He couldn’t help admiring his intelligence, a subtle sense of humor, the way his eyes sparkled when they spoke about space exploration, the dignity with which he faced the judgment of the other students and some of the professors. It took a lot of gut to be the first, especially when there was so much resistance.
Spock said that his origin would never stop him from pursuing any of his interests. If anything, it should be his advantage. That was what Amanda had told him when he’d been ostracized by his peers on Vulcan. Amanda was one of the scientists who’d taken part in his creation and then had been looking after him. The warmth which laced Spock’s voice when he was talking about Amanda and Sarek answered almost all the questions Jim had about his family.
Yeah, they had a great time together. Jim hoped it wasn’t going to end any time soon. The only thing that worried him was that dizzy feeling as though he was standing in front of the abyss, balancing at the very edge of it.
That and Bones’ comments along the lines, “seeing your Robocop boyfriend again?”, “when should I expect the wedding bells?”, “are you gonna stop denying it, Jimbo?”
Jim would love to stop denying it. But it felt too much like a final step into the abyss. Then, there would be nothing but a long fall into the darkness.
***
Jim was sitting on the bench, trying not to bounce his leg, drum his fingers, fidget or mess with his hair. Spock was late, and it was unusual.
Finally, the door opened, and Spock walked out. Jim had never seen him so dejected, and it gave him a pang.
His jaw line was unnaturally taut. His regular purposeful stride was flawed by his slumped shoulders.
Jim caught up with his friend and fell into step beside him. It seemed best to give Spock some space and wait for the moment when he was ready to tell him what had happened.
They’d been walking next to each other for about ten minutes when Spock cleared his throat and said quietly:
“There are times when I begin to doubt whether I am able to achieve my goals.”
“Well, I guess it happens to everyone sometimes. You just have to work through it.”
“That is true. Still, at the times like these I find myself wondering whether the alternative of having no emotional chip would be better.” Spock trailed off.
It took Jim aback. “What happened today?”
“Professor Toddson prohibited me from taking the test on the grounds that I possess superior mathematical skills. I had to appeal to the Administration to resolve the issue. Nevertheless, Professor Toddson was reluctant to comply. It is probable that I will be obliged to cease attending this course.”
“Spock—” Jim put his hand on Spock’s shoulder. “What are you even talking about?”
Spock raised his eyes to meet his.
“Of course, you will attend this course. You need it to graduate. Will you let them win? Is that what you want?”
“No, Jim.”
“Do you want them to set limitations for you?”
“Negative.”
“What about space? Do you want to go into space and explore different planets?”
“Affirmative.”
Jim squeezed his shoulder. “So, do it. You’re stronger than this. I think you’d really enjoy rubbing it in their faces how wrong they were.”
“I will. Excluding the rubbing part, perhaps.”
Spock was looking with so much fondness at him.
Jim felt like he’d missed the step and now was falling, with the wind swishing in his ears. Getting farther and farther away from the ledge.
***
Somewhere along the way Jim introduced Spock to his friends, Bones, Gaila, Uhura, Scotty, Sulu and the library guy Pavel.
They got along just fine, and it was hardly surprising. Spock was like a binding element for them. Quiet but witty, level-headed but with a fair amount of curiosity, different but kind and caring.
Even chronically grumpy Bones didn’t mind spending time with Spock. Well, didn’t mind much.
As Jim realised very soon, his friends got a bit too chummy. They built a sort of cartel whose sole purpose was to tease him over this and that.
And yes, okay, Jim enjoyed it too.
***
A few weeks later, after his meeting with Pike, Jim picked up Spock from the laboratory, and they went to get something to eat.
Spock was quiet, and Jim’s stomach decided to steal the spotlight. It was growling so loudly that Jim believed he could make out some words in that rumble. Like “food”, “now”, “nomnom”. He stifled the (partially) silent dialogue with his stomach when he realised that they were passing the spot of their first meeting. Jim looked sideways at Spock. Did it remind him of that moment too? Do things like these matter to him?
As if on cue, Spock interrupted the silence. “There is one aspect in particular that makes it challenging to be an android.”
There was an uncharacteristic pause. Thought not finished.
“Yes? What is it?”
“It is exceedingly difficult to navigate human social culture due to the nuance of context and tone. It is nearly impossible to have a realistic assessment of the situation.”
“Yeah, I can see why it’s pretty complicated. I’d be happy to consult you if you want.”
“What if it is our situation I require to be advised about?”
Even Jim’s stomach felt the need to shut up. Had he been too clingy? Had Spock noticed the longing in his eyes? Maybe it was about something small, mundane? Like why did he always make a point of getting together after the classes? Or was his “is it a phraser in your pocket” comment a bit over the top? Or—
“Do you regard me as your friend?” Spock’s gaze shifted to him.
“Of course I do. Why would you doubt that?”
They stopped under the huge sign board. The spots of blue light were flickering on Spock’s face making it seem outwardly and, for some reason, sad.
“Am I to infer that you exclude the possibility of having a romantic relationship with me?” Spock looked down at his shoes, then sideways at the sign, and finally as if having plucked enough courage directly into his eyes.
Jim felt dizzy under the intensity of his stare. He had noticed long ago that in life there were moments when some clichéd phrases became clear and vivid, and the previously bland combination of words got filled with color and feeling. At that moment it seemed like the shock had rendered him speechless. There was one pulsating, glaring, bold thought in his mind. Spock wants a relationship with him. With him.
Apparently, Jim had been silent for too long.
Spock blinked and took a tiny step back.
“I offer my apologies for my—unwanted affections.” Tilting his chin up. “I assure you I will not trouble you with—”
“Stop. Spock, stop. Just—Sorry. You caught me off guard. The thing is. I don’t.”
“You don’t?” Spock frowns in confusion.
“I mean I don’t, er, exclude the possibility. Quite the opposite. I’m happy that you’d like that too. I didn’t know whether it was something you’d be interested in.”
“I must confess I was concerned that you might not find an idea attractive. My origin being one of the factors.”
“You know me better than that.”
“I do. It was illogical of me.” Spock’s eyes glimmered.
Jim made a step forward and leaned in to kiss Spock’s neon-lit mouth. The blue spot now lighting their lips. Spock wrapped his arm around Jim’s shoulders pressing him closer to himself, pouring himself into the kiss, sharing everything.
It was incredible to finally belong. To find something so precious. To explore and be explored in turn.
Jim smiled into the kiss. It felt like a promise of a beautiful journey.