Chapter Text
"State your name and current occupation for the record.”
"James Tiberius Kirk, Captain of the USS Enterprise," he says clearly, expression neutral as the prosecuting attorney leads him into testimony.
"What are your current duties?”
"As a captain, I’m responsible for the lives of my crew on whatever mission we happen to be assigned. Before my service onboard Enterprise, I was briefly stationed as a resource management and interspecies diplomacy liaison on Himol.”
Jim’s explanation is brief, not detailing the ever-expanding list of his duties. A list that Spock is intimately familiar with. From his seat toward the back of the courtroom, he is in no position to argue or add context like he is now so used to when dealing with his captain’s ambiguities.
"Can you go into more detail about your responsibilities on Himol?"
"At the time, Vulcan’s planetary evacuation system was under construction on Himol’s surface. Such a large-scale project required all aspects of management be done according to procedure without intruding on the rights or practices of the Himol people."
"What were some of your everyday duties?"
"Assisting with diplomatic issues, mediating disagreements between species and project teams. I also took care of ordering, receiving, and distributing Starfleet resources. I was dealing with transport vehicles and inventory checks daily."
Spock is again dissatisfied with Jim’s downplaying of his work to prepare the colony's foundations. But he supposes the true extent of his involvement is impossible to share. Spock is still not entirely certain of the breadth of Jim’s influence.
"In regards to resource management, why is it important to have oversight?"
"There are a lot of things that can go wrong or even missing. Something isn't allocated properly, or there are issues with the supply chain—even transport delays. As a captain, I can tell you firsthand there's no such thing as a straightforward trip. Issues are bound to happen along the way. And when tools, food, medical supplies, are being transported, it must be done properly and everything has to be accounted for."
"If it isn't, what could happen?"
“Objection, cause for speculation,” the defense team cuts in.
“Sustained,” the judge confirms.
“In your experience,” the prosecution rephrases, and Spock can see the tension in Jim’s shoulders. “What have you witnessed in situations where shipments and equipment have been mistreated?”
"Just about any disaster you can think of. Faulty equipment that can't be replaced has led to electrocution, fires, and data getting erased. Labs without new safety gear are impossible to work in. Even late or rerouted shipments have led to specimen dying in transit.” Jim hesitates and Spock wonders if he is the only one who notices. “Late food shipments have left people starved.”
"And when stationed on Himol, what did you find about existing and newly submitted resource requests going through Admiral Marcus’s office?"
"Hundreds of invoices were being falsified in what appeared to be an organized and systemic fashion." The courtroom begins to bustle with a small flurry of chatter before the sharp crack of a gavel silences the audience.
“Order in the court!” Once the crowd settles, the attorney goes on, prompting Jim to keep talking.
“Could you be more specific about what you found?”
“In general there were massive discrepancies. Invoices that did not match the shipping manifest. High-quality materials were listed but the packages received were substituted for lesser-quality without explanation. Shipments were often marked as delivered when they never arrived and no replacements were ever issued.”
Jim goes on, recounting any number of circumstances. Around him, Spock can see people taking copious notes or leaning into their neighbor's ear to remark.
“Jim wouldn’t lie about something like that,” he hears the young officer sitting in front of him whisper.
“He’d be crazy to even try,” their companion agrees.
Spock does not doubt that Jim is being honest. He would not risk being caught in a lie while Admiral Marcus’s status and freedom are on the line. Not when they both know what could be at stake.
Unfortunately for Admiral Marcus, finding reasons to be suspicious was not difficult.
“Why did you initially send these requests through Admiral Marcus’s office?” the attorney asks once Jim pauses.
“It’s proper protocol. Admiral Marcus is responsible for all construction oversight on new ship development and anything designated as a transport hub.”
“Was it only your project facing these difficulties?”
“I had found through speaking with various officers that almost every active construction project had these same issues.”
“Did you have access to other projects’ invoices and paperwork?”
“Only when they were shared with me by project leaders.”
“To your knowledge, were they allowed to share this information?” Jim’s brows furrow. It is a relatively straightforward question, but perhaps not for one who has lived two very different lives.
“Yes, as far as I’m aware.”
“When you realized this was a larger issue that needed investigating, who did you report to?”
“Admiral Christopher Pike.”
“Admiral Pike, was a captain at the time, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Why choose someone not of the same rank as or perhaps above Admiral Marcus?” the attorney asks and Spock witnesses the audience members turn to one another, asking themselves the same question.
“I had full confidence he would treat the situation with the attention and level of severity it warranted.”
“Severity,” the prosecution repeats. “Simple transportation issues, some paperwork getting mixed up. Everyone has those things happen. Do those simple mistakes warrant a level of severity?” Spock’s eyebrow raises as Jim takes a deep breath through the nose.
“Well now they’ve done it,” Doctor McCoy mutters from beside Spock, his arms crossing as they watch Jim’s frustration grow.
“There is no such thing as a simple mistake,” Jim begins, his brows knit together and mouth turns into a near snarl. “Paperwork mix-ups aren’t an excuse when workers trust my equipment with their lives. For my crew, negligence is intolerable,” Jim finishes, barely able to hold himself back from going red in the face. The attorney finishes their line of questioning and allows the defense to take over.
“In regards to Admiral Pike. Can you tell me more about your relationship?” the defense attorney asks. “Do you have any familial connection with Admiral Pike?”
“Not by blood.”
“Then how is it you two are related?”
“He’s my godfather.”
“Mr. Kirk,” the defense attorney continues. Spock does not appreciate the lack of title, but Jim does not react. “You were appointed as captain after Admiral Pike received his promotion, correct?”
“Incorrect.”
“Incorrect?” The attorney asks, looking down at his notes. “When did you receive your promotion?”
“Unofficially, I was made acting captain during a mission while Christopher Pike was not onboard. He was recovered after the fact. I was officially instated by Admiral Barnett two weeks later.”
The attorney moves on to not call attention to his blunder, and Spock wonders how many believe Jim’s promotion was not based on merit.
“We will pick up after the morning recess with the next witness,” the judge says before turning to Jim. “Thank you for your time, Captain. You’re free to go.”
“My pleasure, your honor,” Jim says as he gets up. Instead of being led out with the rest of the crowd, he is pulled aside by someone Spock cannot see as the audience exits en mass.
“Let’s get out of here,” Dr. McCoy groans under his breath, urging Spock forward with a small shove. “Place is like a damn zoo.”
“That would explain why you are so comfortable behaving like an animal, Doctor,” Spock chides, pulling his hands behind his back as he swiftly maneuvers between people. Many of them move away of their own accord, some offering him a respectful nod as they do.
Doctor McCoy gets momentarily lost in the bodies. Unlike Spock, he is not easy to distinguish from the crowd. So Spock does not care to wait. As he escapes from the crowd, he spots a small congregation of high ranking officers. Admiral Archer among them.
“He’s the kind of kick in the ass Marcus has needed for a long time,” One admiral comments.
“Youngest captain taking on the big guys. Better start watching for him over your shoulder, huh?” Another officer nudges the first with a pointed elbow.
“Only gotta be on the lookout if you’ve done something wrong,” Admiral Archer says, voice gruff but not entirely disapproving.
“Damn right,” the first agrees, “leave it to Marcus to try under-the-table dealings.”
“Allegedly,” the second offers in defense, “there’s still a lot of trial to go.”
“With a paper trail like that, Marcus’ll be put away for a while. Just wish Kirk got to him sooner,” Archer says.
“Yeah, the kid will probably make admiral fast the way he’s getting people’s attention.” Spock’s fist clenches behind his back. Jim only attained the title of captain 6 months and 2 weeks ago. And already they ask for more.
"Gee, thanks for waiting," Dr. McCoy says, brushing off his uniform top as he finally breaches the crowd. "Jim said to go on without him. Something about a new mission report and he'll meet us onboard."
"Very well," Spock concedes, though he is displeased. They were not anticipating a new mission and expected to stay throughout the trial. "I take it you will be returning on the shuttle?"
"You bet your ass I am," the doctor huffs as they begin walking to the hangar. "Any chance not to have my atoms scattered to the wind. But what's your excuse? You usually hate being locked in those things with a bunch of us logically challenged creatures."
"While that is typically the case," Spock begins, not missing the doctor's roll of the eyes. "We are expecting new transfers. The captain typically greets them personally, but it will fall to me in his absence."
"So he's been taking my advice. Good to know I haven't just been talking to myself this whole time."
"Your advice, Doctor?" Spock asks as they continue their way across campus.
“You’re his first officer. He should be putting you to work.”
Spock chooses not to engage further. As he has experienced with the doctor before, it is best not to add fuel to the proverbial fire.
As they approach the hangar, he can see crowds of friends and loved ones offering goodbyes to the new crew members before they go aboard. If Jim were here, he would meet all their parents, spouses, and children. He would likely delay their own evening plans for the chance to do so.
Spock starts to slow his pace to match the doctor's casual stride. Making their way toward the shuttle, Spock does not expect to be stopped.
"Good day, Commander," a voice says, approaching through the crowd. "Science Officer Wallace, I've been assigned to the Enterprise. These are my transfer orders."
Spock immediately recognizes the woman from the memories he has seen of Jim's previous lifetime. He is unsure of her role in the grand scheme of things. And there is no purpose for another Science Officer. There are gaps in his knowledge. Aspects of Jim's story he has yet to be made aware of.
A grievous oversight.
"Dr. Wallace," he reads off the PADD she presents him with. "Advanced weaponry. Quite impressive."
"Thank you," she starts, but Spock cuts her off.
"However, you are not on the pre-approved transfer manifest. And seeing as how the position of Science Officer is already filled, your services are not needed."
"Come on, Spock," the doctor rolls his eyes. "Most First Officers aren't also head of a department."
Spock's fist clenches around the device in his hand before he reminds himself to hand it back to her.
"Unofficial transfer requests must go through the captain personally," he says instead of addressing McCoy's comment. "And seeing as he is not here, I suggest you go through the proper channels if you are seeking transfer."
"I see," the woman goes to take her leave. "Thank you for your time, gentlemen."
"No chivalry on Vulcan?" McCoy asks with a distinct tone of disapproval as he passes in front of Spock to board the shuttle.
"An illogical code of honor to apply to my people. Who historically did not have a concept of knighthood."
"Yeah, no kidding," Bones scoffs as Spock follows him to their seats.
-
"Your testimony is still being discussed on the news," Spock says, turning down the volume on his kitchen viewscreen as Jim walks into his quarters. "It would seem people cannot get enough of you."
"Well I've had too much of them," Jim groans, rolling his shoulders. Joining Spock in the kitchen, he leans across the island counter. "Is that lasagna?"
"A vegetarian recipe, yes," Spock says as he pulls the dish out of the oven.
"You big sap," a wide, beaming grin works its way across Jim's face. "You didn't have to make my favorite."
"Correct, I did not have to do anything," Spock agrees, watching as Jim's smirk shifts sideways. "You also did not have to become the center of an investigation into Admiral Marcus."
"Jealous of all the attention I’m getting?"
"Not in the least," Spock answers, pushing Jim back by the shoulder so he does not lean on the hot stovetop.
"No? Even with all of my new admirers?"
"Do I appear so insecure?" Spock asks before considering his words and cuts Jim off as he goes to open his mouth. "A rhetorical question."
"Of course," Jim easily agrees before moving on. "My meeting was about our new mission. They want us to leave for Himol the day after tomorrow."
"Shall I schedule a briefing with the crew?" Spock asks as Jim circles the island.
"Just send a short mission summary," Jim shrugs with his right arm, the left not following. "Without Marcus messing with the records and diverting resources, these supply runs should hopefully start being a lot easier."
"What time would you prefer to ship out?" Spock asks but pauses as arms snake around his waist.
"10 hundred hours should be fine, give Chekov and Sulu a bit of breathing room while the supplies are double-checked and prepared."
"Understood, Captain," Spock says, feeling Jim's forehead rest on his shoulder. "You are exhausted?" Jim merely hums, grip tightening a bit on Spock's waist.
"Perhaps eating will help you relax," Spock suggests, and feels a soft chuckle against his shoulder.
"How could I say no when it all smells so good," Jim says, voice slightly muffled as he stays put.
"Are you referring to my person or the food?" A sharp pinch at Spock's side makes him react, body jerking away from Jim slightly before he stills again.
"Smart ass," Jim says instead of explaining the gesture. Arms pull back as Jim turns, reaching up into the cabinets he takes out 2 dishes.
"There is something I wish to discuss." As Jim passes him a plate, Spock serves a larger portion than perhaps is necessary.
"Everything okay?" Jim asks.
"I do not believe it is anything to be concerned about, however, I am unsure of this event's significance." The partial explanation only serves to make a confused crease appear between Jim’s brows. "A woman attempted to board the shuttle today. I recognized her, but the name Carol Wallace was unknown to me. Was she a previous member of your crew?"
"I guess, technically?" Jim lopsidedly shrugs as they sit across from one another. "She’s Marcus’s daughter. She came onboard because of the torpedoes I told you about.” Jim finishes as he helps himself to a large bite, his plate still steaming.
"Shall I start investigating her?" Spock asks, as Jim shakes his head as he swallows.
"Let's wait to see if she comes back with another transfer. We can’t have anyone realizing we know who she is while the trial is ongoing."
"Even though your testimony is done, it still weighs heavily on you?"
"It feels too easy," Jim shakes his head, eyes focusing on his meal rather than Spock. "I guess I'm waiting for it to all go sideways."
"And now his daughter appears."
"She wanted to investigate the torpedoes," Jim reasons. "But we don't have them. So why come here at all?"
"Could it be that she intends to uncover something to discredit you?"
"She was just as suspicious of him as I was, but who knows if things are different now?"
“Whether her motives have changed or not, it is a fact that circumstances have,” Spock says, Jim nodding minutely as he goes on. “There are an infinite number of possibilities. But in this, I would suggest not taking chances and exercising caution. Especially when her service is not required and her knowledge as a weapons expert is unneeded.”
“Either way, if she comes back with a valid transfer, I won’t have any justifiable reason to refuse her. Especially with your department being short-staffed.”
“Given the diplomatic nature of our recent missions, there have been no ill effects of the understaffing. Though I am expecting more transfer requests in the coming weeks.”
“But still, we should take the help where we can get it. Especially if there’s nothing outwardly suspicious,” Jim argues.
“Only time will be able to reveal such matters.”
“Then I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”
Finishing their meal, their conversation flows as Jim gathers their empty plates. Bringing them into the kitchenette, he rinses them in preparation for a more thorough cleaning later.
“Doctor McCoy mentioned today that he had given you some advice,” Spock offers, watching Jim move about the small space with ease. They have only lived on board a short 6 months with various leaves on Earth, yet Jim still seems to maintain some sort of muscle memory from a time long gone.
“Advice?” Jim asks, rifling through the cabinets as if to locate something specific. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”
“This seemed to be about your workload.”
“Ah, that. Something about delegating. Which I’m great at.”
“And so humble,” Spock teases.
As he laughs, Jim continues his pilfering. Spock joins him, looking over a shoulder to peek into the shelves.
"Where'd you move your usual one?"
"Pardon?" Spock asks, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as Jim grows frustrated.
"The chestnut-smelling one," Jim explains, unable to find the familiar figures on any of Spock's tea tins as he squints down at the one in hand.
“Did you move it?”
"I used the last of it this morning," Spock explains, reaching over Jim's shoulder to grab another strain. "The supply on Earth has been low while the colony continues to build."
"We'll have to get some while we're on Himol," Jim says, taking the tea in hand and going back to work.
"Time permitting. It is certainly not a necessity,” Spock offers.
"To me it is," Jim says with a playful twist of the lips, pointing an accusing finger. "You hate replicated tea."
“Replicated food is molecularly exact to the original.”
“I know that. I have no problem with replicated anything,” Jim explains as he continues his work, hands moving with practiced ease. “It’s you who gets cranky.”
"Perhaps you are confusing me with another crew member," Spock insists.
"Is that what I'm doing?"
"I believe so. One who has a penchant for alcohol and insulting his fellow crew."
"You're gonna have to be more specific. That could be half of Engineering alone,” Jim says with a smirk.
"The lack of professionalism on your ship is astounding, Captain."
"I'm having an illicit affair with my First Officer and you expected professionalism, Mr. Spock?" Jim teases as he offers a full teacup.
"From you, it is expected. It is everyone else that concerns me,” Spock clarifies.
"It would save you a lot of time if you just say that I’m special and you like me the best,” Jim urges, leaning across the counter.
"I would think that is obvious," Spock says, unsuccessfully hiding his smile behind a sip of tea.
"Oh, you would?" Jim says, a laugh jittering his words. "Hopefully not too obvious. Don't want anyone catching on."
“If they have, it is certainly not because of my behavior,” Spock insists and Jim tries to stifle a laugh.
“And how do you know that?”
“Nurse Chapel requested my company for a drink no less than three times during this shore leave alone,” Spock explains, and Jim’s coffee retreats from his lips before he can partake.
“Three times?”
“It is perhaps more. Lieutenant Uhura also asked me to join them as well. Given my history with the Lieutenant and her familiarity with my distaste for alcohol, I believe she was asking as a favor to Christine.”
“So now she’s Christine,” Jim says, making Spock’s mouth drop open at the silent accusation. “And here Bones was trying to get me all excited to ask you out.”
“Pardon?”
“He thinks I like you,” Jim explains.
“I see…” Spock pauses a moment before adding, “That would explain his comment last you were in Sickbay. I believe it was, ‘Vulcans don’t know a good thing when they got it,’ though his language was far more colorful.”
“Ya’know, Bones also told me you’ve been avoiding your physical for weeks,” Jim accuses as he invades Spock’s personal space. “There a reason for that, Commander?”
“My physical has needed to be rescheduled several times since your recent injury,” Spock explains, eyes shifting away from Jim’s to focus on his left shoulder. “While you were recovering, more of your responsibilities fell to me.”
“I’ve been back in the chair for three weeks already,” Jim argues, putting down his cup of coffee.
“An urgent experiment in the labs required my attention, leading to my rescheduling a second time.”
“And after that?” Jim asks, turning toward Spock fully.
“I-” Spock pauses, seemingly unable to answer.
“You have to go eventually. If Bones says you’re unfit for duty there’s nothing I can do about that, regardless of rank.”
“Of course,” Spock agrees without thought. “I will see it done.”