Divided Loyalties

Part 16

Upon arrival, Spock was greeted by an even more impatient McCoy, but the only indication of it was the way the Doctor jerked his head to indicate that Spock should follow him. Once in the makeshift delivery room, Spock was put into surgical scrubs—gown, cap, mask and gloves—but since the mask was clear, Christine could see his concern for her as well as sense it when he put his hand on her face in a healing meld.
*Spock, the pain...*
*I know. I will take it away. Do not worry.* He tried to project serenity and calm through their bond despite his weariness.
“This could be a long night, Spock,” McCoy warned as the Vulcan carefully broke the meld and turned to face him. “Not just for Christine, but all of us. Are you prepared for what that might entail?”
“I am, Doctor. Let us get on with it.”
The two then turned back to the writhing, moaning and perspiring woman on the birthing bed behind them and proceeded with the birth process.

**********

It was a good eighteen hours before the child was born, around 1800—and to the surprise of both parents, it was a girl, not a boy as in Christine's nightmare. She was quite small, too, although healthy: 5 lbs. 12 oz., with a fuzz of dark brown hair, tiny points on her ears and decidedly non-Human eyebrows…but Christine’s patrician nose and lips. She also emitted a most Human wail upon being vigorously bathed and rubbed down to get her circulation going.
“Great lungs,” the Doctor observed to Spock as Christine was cleaned up, then given a local for the three stitches in the episiotomy and prepared for bed; afterward, the child would be in a crib next to her. They would both be kept for a couple of days as a precaution, since McCoy didn’t care to take chances unless there was no other choice.
(Kirk had come, somewhat later than promised, and was told that the child had not been born yet—this was around 0600—but that he would be notified when he/she was. Babies often took many hours to be born, especially first babies, so there was no sense in his waiting around Sickbay that long. The Captain had to agree for several reasons, the most important one being that he didn’t care to be reminded once again that he would never be able to give the one he loved a child. As it was, he was going to be haunted by this for God knew how long.)
“Indeed, Doctor,” Spock replied, somewhat absently since he was still preoccupied with Christine.
“She’ll be fine, Spock. They both will. M’Benga and I will see to that,” McCoy assured him, making his voice as soothing as possible.
“I have no doubt of that, Doctor,” the Vulcan answered, more exhausted than he cared to admit from the several lengthy mind-melds he had had to employ to successfully bring Christine through the long and still-painful childbirth.
“I’ll keep an eye on them for tonight,” McCoy told him. “Why don’t you go get some sleep and come back in the morning?”
“That sounds logical, Doctor,” Spock responded tiredly.
McCoy was also too tired to respond to that as he normally would, so he simply smiled wearily in Spock’s direction.
“Did Jim come?” Spock wondered. “He promised me he would.”
The Doctor had a nebulous memory of M’Benga telling them over the intercom that Kirk had come, but stayed only briefly upon learning that the birth hadn’t taken place yet...that he would be notified when it did by whoever was available to tell him.
“M’Benga told me over the intercom that he did, but it was some hours ago. He told him to return to his quarters, that one of us would let him know the details ASAP. Have you chosen a name for the child yet? I’ll need to make out a birth certificate, then record it in my Medical Log.”
“I will tell Jim, Doctor,” Spock informed him.
“Don’t stay up too much longer, Spock. Those mind-melds would have to have worn you out. You need rest and sleep,” the Doctor admonished.
Spock was too weary to argue. “I will not, Doctor. I even intend to call him from my quarters, rather than speak to him in person.”
“That’s good,” McCoy responded. “Now, what’s the name of your child?”
“Christine and I agreed on naming her after you, Doctor...or as close as possible—T’Lehn.”
McCoy’s brows raised in a Vulcan-like manner, then he nodded and smiled. “So noted. See you later, Spock...and thank you.”
“Good night, Doctor.” The Vulcan then turned on his heel after nodding in acknowledgment with a half-smile before returning to the quarters he usually shared with Christine, preparing himself for bed before calling Kirk.
“Kirk here,” came the reply. “You sound tired, Spock.”
“I am,” the First Officer admitted quietly. “It was necessary to engage in several lengthy mind-melds in order to bring Christine through the birth successfully.”
“What was the baby—a boy or a girl?”
“A girl, 5 lb. 12 oz. and 15 inches long. She looks outwardly Vulcan, for the most part, though I do not know what color her eyes are, since they are not open yet.”
“From what I understand, Spock, it takes up to two days for the baby’s eyes to open. We’ll find out then,” Kirk assured him. “What did you name her?”
“T’Lehn, after the Doctor,” Spock informed him. “I will call my parents and the Vulcan authorities at the first opportunity to inform them of the birth.” The Vulcan sighed wearily. “I am very tired, Jim. If you do not object, I would like to go to sleep now.”
“Of course, Spock. Would you like me to come be with you, if only to hold you as you sleep?” The Human sounded questioning but hopeful.
“Perhaps tomorrow. Dr. McCoy says Christine and T’Lehn will have to remain in Sickbay for two days as a precaution. I intend to visit them tomorrow, once I have rested and eaten. Do you wish to accompany me?”
“Perhaps. I’ll have to check my schedule and let you know,” Kirk told him, inwardly hurt that Spock hadn’t named the child for him, but he knew why that was and that he had only himself to blame.
“Very well. I will see you tomorrow, Jim. Good night.”
“Good night, Spock.”
Once the Vulcan had turned off his intercom and lay back on his bed, he was deeply asleep within moments and remained so until ship’s morning.


Part 17

As it turned out, Kirk was sincerely unable to accompany Spock when it came time for him to see Christine and his child. Of course, the Vulcan would probably be skeptical when he was told this, Kirk knew that all too well, especially after all that had happened... but that was a chance he would have to take. Spock called him via intercom on his way to Sickbay. “Do you intend to accompany me to
see Christine and my child, Jim?”
“I had fully intended to, Spock, truly I did—but remembered just an hour ago that I have to go on duty after all. I didn’t get the chance to tell you until now. I know I haven’t given you much reason to trust me lately, but I swear, if I could go with you, I would. Give my regrets to Christine and kiss her and the baby for me. I’ll see them as soon as possible, I promise.”
Spock allowed himself an affectionate smile at his Human bondmate. “I know. Do not concern yourself. I will give Christine your regards and regrets, then tell you all about it when I see you again.”
The Captain hoped Spock was gradually rebuilding his trust in him again, but knew it would take time, so he was simply grateful for this small show of trust on Spock’s part. “All right. See you later. I’ve got to get to the Bridge now. Kirk out.”
“I will see you there, Jim. Spock out.” With that, the Vulcan reached to close the intercom.

**********

Fifteen minutes later, Spock entered Sickbay to find Christine sitting up in bed with a small pink bundle in her arms. “Christine,” the Vulcan called to his wife.
She looked up and smiled. “Oh, Spock, you’re here.” She looked back at the baby. “Oh, look, her eyes are open!” she exclaimed.
The First Officer moved quickly to his wife’s side and noted that she was right. ‘That is good, but
most unusual, even for a Vulcan child. It usually takes a minimum of twelve hours.”
“That’s still considerably less time than for a Human baby,” Christine reminded him.
“Perhaps it is her mixed blood,” Spock suggested.
“Possibly,” Christine conceded. “But more tests would be necessary for us to be absolutely sure.”
“Not at this time,” he returned quietly. “For the moment, let us simply...enjoy our child and the fact that her eyes are open.”
Christine gazed up at her husband in surprise, then smiled again. She then moved over some to give him room to sit beside her, then he put an arm around her and hugged her.
“Thank you, Spock.”
“Thank *you*,” he corrected. “She would not be with us now, if not for you.”
“I couldn’t have had her without you,” Christine pointed out.
They then looked at the child, discovering that she had the largest blue eyes they had ever seen, as well as the thickest, darkest lashes.
“I believe she has your eyes,” Spock opined.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Humanoid babies usually have blue eyes when they’re born. Their eyes often change to their intended color within a short time, usually a couple of weeks or so. We’ll see what happens then. I frankly think they’ll end up brown, like yours.”
“Would it be so wrong if they stayed blue?” the Vulcan wondered.
“No; I simply prefer brown eyes, because they’re so beautiful and velvety soft,” Christine persisted.
“Blue eyes can be the same way,” Spock countered.
She looked up at him, wide-eyed and incredulous. “Spock, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“That depends on what you thought I meant,” he returned blandly. He reached to stroke her cheek with the sides of his fingers. “You mean you do not know how beautiful your eyes are?”
Christine blushed attractively and lowered her eyes, busying herself by kissing their infant daughter’s forehead.
Spock allowed hlf alf a smile at her actions, then continued. “Can you not understand why I would prefer my daughter to have her mother’s eyes?”
“I think so,” she replied. “And I appreciate the thought, my love, but can you not understand why
I’m hoping my child will have her *father’s* eyes?” She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it warmly. “I find your eyes every bit as beautiful as you seem to find mine. It’s funny, though...” Her voice trailed off.
“What is funny?” he wondered pointedly.
“I always figured you liked hazel eyes best, since the Captain has hazel eyes,” she returned, just as pointedly.
“As I once told you, my wife, each of you is beautiful in your own way. Your blue eyes and Jim’s hazel eyes are equally attractive to me.” The tone of his voice prompted her to look up at him again. “Do not worry, *m’chejan*. I will--love our child, regardless of what color eyes she has.”
“I would hope so,” Christine opined, looking down at the now-dozing infant in her arms. “By the way, did you tell the Captain about my having the baby?”
“He knows,” Spock informed her neutrally, certain that she wouldn’t want to know where he and Jim had been when the news came. “He will visit at the earliest opportunity.”
“Have you told your parents yet?”
“I sent a stargram to Mother this morning,” he replied.
“I bet she’ll be pleased when she hears,” Christine remarked.
“No doubt,” Spock agreed.
“Let me know when you hear from her,” his wife entreated.
“Of course,” he assured her, raising an eyebrow when Christine opened her nightgown and put the baby to her breast. “Do you intend to breast-feed T’Lehn?”
“It’s the best thing for a baby; gives them an edge, health- and intelligence-wise.”
“Human babies,” Spock reminded her. “T’Lehn is part Vulcan.”
“Don’t worry; I’m taking special supplements to compensate,” Christine answered, loving the feel of her child suckling on her breast, but in a different way than when Spock did it to her in the course of their lovemaking.
“How long do you intend to nurse her?” he inquired.
“As long as possible,” she returned. “My mother nursed me for almost a year.”
“Indeed,” Spock answered. “Mother was unable to nurse me for several months, since I was so premature, having been born in her seventh month of pregnancy. Once I had grown sufficiently, however, she began to do so. In the meantime, she pumped her breasts regularly and brought the milk to me while I was in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at the hospital. She and my father could not even hold me until I was six weeks old, and I needed to be on a warming table and fed through
a feeding tube inserted directly into my stomach.”
“Is that how they gave you her milk?”
“After adding special supplements to compensate for my Vulcan genetics,” he explained.
“How much did you weigh at birth?” she asked.
“Fourteen hundred fifty-one point two-five grams—or roughly three pounds, six ounces. My father once said that as a newborn infant, I was scarcely long enough to lie across his extended hands.”
Christine knew how small a measurement that was. “That’s scarcely a foot.”
“Thirteen point five-one inches, to be exact,” Spock told her. “Or should I say 34.3 centimeters?”
“No; inches are easier to figure out,” Christine replied. “Besides, I’m happy to say that I was considerably heavier and larger as a newborn.”
“But you were not premature, were you?” her husband asked.
“No, I was full-term,” she answered. “Mama said I weighed six pounds, seven ounces, and was about seventeen inches long.”
“And your eyes obviously stayed blue,” he observed.
“Just as you obviously outgrew your prematurity,” she countered.
A moment later, they heard someone cautiously clearing their throat, heads turning to find McCoy again hovering in the doorway. “Sorry to disturb you,” he apologized. But Jim’s calling from the Bridge, Spock. He says to get up there on the double, or you’ll be late for duty.”
Christine looked up to check the wall chrono. “He’s right. You’d better get moving.”
The Vulcan looked at her apologetically. “I will see you later, my wife.” He stunned McCoy by kissing Christine and their child before rushing out.
Once Spock was gone, the Doctor and Christine looked at each other in astonishment. “He’s never done that before,” McCoy declared. “Especially not in front of me.”
“Maybe he was in so much of a hurry that he didn’t stop to think before doing it—just did it, instinctively,” she suggested. “Do you think that’s a good sign, Leonard?”
“Could be,” McCoy returned. “But it’s best to just play it by ear for the time being. You’ll soon know if this change in his attitude toward you is permanent or not.”
“Could it be because of the baby?”
“Partially, but I think it’s as much you, yourself, as the baby that’s prompted the change.”
“It never seemed to before,” she pointed out, feeling little T’Lehn’s lips loosen from her nipple and fall back limply in her arms, three-quarters asleep. Christine put the baby over her shoulder to burp her, making sure to put a towel over her nightgown in case she spit up.
“You’ve not been married to him or had his child before, either,” McCoy reminded her as he watched them. A couple of minutes of firm patting on the child’s back elicited an audible burp, then T’Lehn fell into a deep sleep.
McCoy chuckled at the sight. “I’ve always marveled at the natural sleep aid in mother’s milk. She’ll probably sleep until at least 2400,” he opined as Christine handed the baby back to him.
“Let me know when she needs another feeding,” Christine said with a smile. “I think I’ll have a nap now, then write my folks about their grandchild...and after that, probably have lunch.”
“Sounds good to me, Chris. See you later. Sleep well.” With that, McCoy settled the tiny girl on his shoulder and left with her.
Christine smiled after them, then lay down and was deeply asleep herself within moments.


Part 18

She awoke to her husband’s kiss two hours later, and he sat by her bed as she wrote and sent a stargram to her parents telling them of their new granddaughter—all about her, name, what she looked like, physical statistics...only then did she notice that he carried a hard copy of a message himself. After McCoy had come in and checked her over, then asked what she wanted for lunch and sent to the Officers’ Mess for it, the Vulcan told his wife that he had heard from his parents—or more specifically, his mother.
“That’s great,” she enthused. “May I ask why your father doesn’t write?”
“My father has always believed letter-writing illogical and a waste of time. He thinks if it is truly important, it should be done in person.”
“Surely he knows that’s not always possible,” she returned with a frown.
“Certainly, he knows; if he needs to speak with someone and cannot do it in person, he sends a holovid message. A faster and more logical means of communication than stargrams, as far as he
is concerned.”
“To each his own, I guess,” Christine sighed. “Now, let’s get on with bigger and better things. What did your mother have to say?”
“She is ‘thrilled,’ to quote her, about our daughter’s birth, and wants us to send a family picture at the earliest opportunity. Says she has been ‘bragging’ about her grandchild to everyone who gets near her and stays long enough to listen.”
“Sounds like a typical new grandparent,” Christine returned. “I also have to warn you, though…a lot of new parents also act like that.”
“I would not act like that--at least not publicly,” Spock claimed. “There are better ways to show pride in one’s child.”
“But don’t be surprised if I do,” Christine warned. “I’m as proud as punch of our little girl and don’t care who knows it. I may bore the hell out of some people, but our friends will understand.”
“Which reminds me…Jim said he was going to stop by, and bring Miss Uhura with him. We must try to have the baby on hand on that time,” the Vulcan told his wife.
“When are they supposed to come?”
“About 1430, shortly after they get off-shift,” was the reply.
“Another couple of hours,” Christine noted. “I was getting ready for lunch, as you know—and just told my folks about T’Lehn. By the way, what did your mother think of the baby’s name?”
“She thought it was beautiful, even ‘exotic’…most appropriate for a Vulcan child,” Spock explained.
“That’s good. I was wondering, though--have you heard any more rumblings concerning the ‘gay’ rumors concerning you and the Captain? With all the troublemakers and malcontents aboard ship, I’m frankly surprised that there haven’t been more problems.”
“Not as much since your near-miscarriage and collapse, not to mention our daughter’s birth,” Spock informed her. “The discipline meted out to the troublemakers seems to be effective enough to keep them under control…for the moment,” he continued.
“For the moment, yes,” Christine agreed. “But how much longer can we logically expect our luck to hold out? How long can we expect the discipline to remain effective?”
“You know that Jim and I have always been...most discreet in our—demonstrations of affection, and if we...wish to be—together, I stay in my old quarters adjoining his. The malcontents can say what they like, but have never been able to prove anything beyond hearsay and rumors. Still, I feel sure that sooner or later, one of them’s going to be determined to prove once and for all that the rumors are true...and never mind what it does to their career in Starfleet. They may even resign before putting their investigation into high gear, in order to prevent the higher-ups—or even us—from being able to punish them too severely.
“Claims of harassment from a civilian by members of Starfleet can turn ugly real quick, you know,” Christine warned him. “Please, my love, make sure to always take great care, both you and the Captain. Don’t let yourselves get careless, even for a moment...even though you know that Leonard and I and the others will cover for you both and deny everything until we’re blue in the face.”
“We will, I assure you—but I have always heartily disliked the idea of such subterfuge, even though it is necessary,” Spock opined.
“Unfortunately, neither of you have much choice in the matter. Not if you expect to continue your relationship...” Christine’s voice trailed off.
“I also very much dislike putting such a burden on you, the Doctor and the others,” Spock continued as if she hadn’t spoken.
“We all love and respect you and the Captain, Spock. It’s part and parcel of being both personally and professionally involved with the two of you. Besides, without concrete proof, Starfleet Command can’t lift a finger against either of you. Not when there are surely as many people higher-up in the Starfleet hierarchy who are in the same position as you and the Captain. For them to prosecute the two of you for such a thing would be the height of hypocrisy. Lastly, sexual preference has very little to do with how efficiently an officer performs his or her duties.”
“Amen,” came a chorus of voices from behind them—and the couple turned to find Kirk, McCoy and Uhura standing just inside the door to Christine’s room. The Communications Officer was holding little T’Lehn in her arms, all three smiling as they approached Spock and Christine with the child. “I don’t think I could improve on anything you and Christine said, Spock,” Kirk agreed with a smile. “I concur, a thousand percent.”
“As do I,” Uhura said, handing Christine the baby. “By the way, your little girl is gorgeous, Chris. If her disposition equals her looks, it’ll be a treat caring for her.”
Kirk smiled and nodded in full agreement, but for once, the normally outspoken McCoy chose to remain quiet—either because he also agreed with what the others had said, or simply because he
had somehow mellowed as a result of T’Lehn’s birth and her having been named for him. Perhaps
he had even decided to seriously curtail or at least tone down the volume of his arguments concerning Spock, Kirk and Christine for the child’s sake. She was going to start asking probing, embarrassing questions on the subject soon enough as it was…so they’d better make sure to have some straight answers for her--or at least enough to offset the worst of them.
They would also make it their business to shield her as much as possible from all the lurid rumors regarding Spock and Kirk’s true sexuality and relationship. All had always believed that love was love, whatever form it took...and they would teach T’Lehn accordingly, in keeping with not only the IDIC philosophy, but their own personal one.
Unfortunately for them all, there was a spy and troublemaker in Sickbay, one they would least suspect, and who was all the more dangerous since he had never overtly made his feelings known—and worst of all, one who had also recorded all that Spock, Christine, Kirk and Uhura had said. They could hardly deny what they had said if it was played out in the open, especially not if it were played in front of a general court.
If he could prove that they were all part of one big conspiracy to cover up Kirk and Spock’s queer relationship, he could not only bring them down once and for all, he would get back at them for all they had done to him, the shabby way they had treated him…and all because he (among others)
held the Captain and Spock’s sordid secret.
In his twisted mind, this individual did not feel he was doing anything wrong, simply confirming what he and many others had always believed, but had never been able to prove until now. All that would be necessary at this point were a few well-chosen words in the ears of the right people and twenty years of work would come to glorious fruition. Now that he had indisputable proof in hand, it would be a simple matter to expose Kirk and Spock for the hypocritical, two-faced perverts they really were—and those who had protected them all these years as well. He would get the ball rolling as soon as he was off-duty...


Part 19

It was shortly after this that the aforementioned spy and troublemaker went to start doing his dirty work, to sully the names of not only Kirk and Spock but all of those associated with them--possibly
for all time. However, it was also approximately the same time that Christine’s meal arrived, and she began attacking it with great relish. And well she should, since she was going to need all the energy she could get to fight all the hatred, venom and vitriol that she and the others would be inundated with.
But for now, she simply enjoyed her meal, surrounded by her husband, child and all their friends, blissfully unaware of the recent turn of events that was brewing trouble for her and all those she was close to…an emotional powder-keg which needed only the word of assorted troublemakers such as the one in Sickbay as a spark to set off the fuse which would ignite and explode into a controversy which would expand to not only include Spock and Kirk, but others aboard the *Enterprise* and her sister ships--then from there all the way through every department of Starfleet Command, up to and including the staff of Fleet Admiral Nogura himself.
All this would open a can of worms such as Kirk, Spock and the others had never seen and embroil
all of them in it...and not just for a few weeks or months to come, but years. [At least as far as they could tell at this point.] And once they found out who had started it all (not to mention those who
had aided and abetted him), Kirk and the others intended to make the lives of those involved so miserable that they would do anything and everything possible to get away from them, including moving as far away into the Federation sector of the Galaxy as they could and going under assumed names.
But for now, all were happy and satisfied with themselves and their lives in general, intending to stay that way for a long time to come. Unfortunately, certain other people had other planr thr them—plans which did not include happiness or anything even approaching peace of mind. Fortunately for them, however, those most concerned were unaware of those plans...and would remain such, at least for the foreseeable future. But once they found out who was responsible—!

*********

It was two weeks later that things began to happen…and not pleasant things, either --beginning with
a late-night call to the *Enterprise* from Admiral Komack, second only to Nogura in power in all of Starfleet. Even so, both Kirk and Spock were convinced that he (or somebody else) was out to get them personally. They couldn’t have said just why they were so sure, but they were dead certain, nonetheless. And once they had found out who had instigated this idiocy, they would make it hotter than Hell for the culprit, effective immediately.
Both would curse in their native language at having been roused from deep sleep at 0200 hours, the Vulcan having all but exhausted himself making passionate love to his wife. When the call came, he had just fallen asleep; it was Christine who had answered the bedside intercom.
“Where’s Spock?” Kirk called when he heard Christine’s sleepy voice. She had been nearly asleep herself when the intercom buzzed.
“Asleep,” she replied with a deep yawn. “Why do you ask? I can barely keep awake myself.”
“Admiral Komack’s standing by on the Starfleet channel,” Kirk explained, his own voice laced with anger and weariness. “I don’t know why the hell he’s calling at this ungodly hour, but do all you can
to get Spock awake and on his feet, since Komack wants to speak with both of us within the next fifteen minutes...and you know that he’s not known for his patience.”
“I’ll do my best, but can make no guarantees,” Christine promised. “It doesn’t help matters, either, that the baby just woke up and is screaming for attention.”
“Spock is your first priority. Give him a stimulant or something, but get him up and headed for my quarters. I’ll be waiting. Kirk out.” With that, the intercom went dead.
Christine almost literally dragged herself out of bed, her entire body aching, but doing her best to soothe the screaming child even as she reached into her bedside table drawer for a hypo of combined Masiform-D, dalaphaline and cortropine—the only thing she knew of that could wake Spock up quickly with a minimum of side effects. She set the hypo for five cc’s, then pressed it against his arm. He woke up groaning, demanding to know why she had awakened him.
“I didn’t want to, love, believe me, but the Captain called a few minutes ago. Admiral Komack is waiting; he wants to speak to you both. I have no idea why, nor do I know why he’s calling at this hour. The Captain just wants you to come immediately.”
Once the drstarstarted kicking in, the Vulcan sat up and grabbed his clothing, then headed for the bathroom to shower. “Very well. Contact Jim; tell him I am on my way and should be there shortly.”
Christine opened the intercom and contacted Kirk as instructed. “Captain, I had to give him a hypo of stimulants, but he’s up now and told me to tell you that he’s on his way and should be there shortly.”
“Good. Thank you, Christine.” Kirk was silent for a moment, then said, “I’m truly sorry to have to disturb either of you. I know how tired you must be, because I’m just as tired. Hopefully we’ll be able to straighten this mess out in one fell swoop so we can all get back to sleep. You’d better take care
of your little girl now, then go back to sleep.”
“Thank you, Captain. Chapel out.” She again yawned deeply, then turned off the intercom and leaned over to pick up her child, whom she discovered was a total mess from the waist down. After bathing her, re-diapering and dressing the child, then feeding her, Christine lay the now-sleeping infant back down...and after doing that, she made her way back to bed and fell onto it, asleep as soon as she hit the pillow.
Spock came out and allowed himself a smile upon seeing his wife and child deeply asleep. He leaned down to kiss the former’s forehead and stroke the other’s downy hair, knowing that he was going to be functioning on a combination of the stimulants and the Vulcan equivalent of nalinalin for at least the immediate future before departing his quarters for Kirk’s.


Part 20

Upon Spock’s arrival, Kirk smiled apologetically at him. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Spock, but this was necessary.”
“I trust so.” The Vulcan nodded in acknowledgment, too tired to speak further at that point.
“You look as tired as I feel,” the Captain observed, one of the few people able to see behind Spock’s control—which wasn’t too hard at the moment, since it was considerably more relaxed than usual due to his weariness. Still, one would have had to know him well to have detected it.
Spock allowed himself a half-smile at Kirk. “What does Admiral Komack want?”
“Let’s find out,” the Captain said, reaching to open the Starfleet channel. “Let’s also hope we can get whatever Komack’s got a bee in his bonnet about straightened out so we can get back to sleep.”
“Indeed,” Spock concurred, the two of them moving to face the viewer, where Komack’s weathered visage had just been un-frozen.
“Kirk here,” the Captain said pleasantly. “What can we do for you, sir?”
This time, Komack was the one to look apologetic. “First, I want to apologize for disturbing you at such an ungodly hour, Captain... Commander. But this was so important that it just couldn’t wait.”
“What’s this all about, Admiral?” Kirk wondered. “Has it got anything to do with the Klingons, Romulans or Orions?”
“None of the above,” Komack replied. “It has to do with the two of you.”
Kirk and Spock looked at each other, dumfounded. What could Komack possibly be getting at? He couldn’t possibly know about their private relationship; that had been the *Enterprise*’s best-kept secret for over twenty years. Sure, there were troublemakers and malcontents, but they had been kept under tight, careful control. Even the ones allowed off the ship were subjected to a mind-wipe
by Spock before their departure. Neither wanted to think that one might have slipped past them, because just the thought that that person might have told their higher-ups of their private activities was too frightening to contemplate.
“Spock, do you think he could have somehow found out about us?” Kirk asked, his voice only loud enough to be caught by the Vulcan’s sensitive ears.
“I would say that the odds are very much against it,” the First Officer returned, his voice only loud enough for Kirk to hear.
“But it’s still possible,” the latter persisted.
“It is still possible,” Spock had to admit.
“Exactly what do you mean, Admiral?” the Captain asked, raising his voice slightly and forcing down his apprehension in order to face his superior, the warmth and comforting weight of Spock’s handhis his shoulder, as well as his steadying mental presence through their bond making him feel somewhat more relaxed. He tried to convey reassurance to Spock as well since detecting the Vulcan’s own disquiet at this latest development, but couldn’t be sure if he was doing any good, either for himself or Spock.
“It has come to my attention that there has been an...inappropriate relationship going on between you,” Komack elaborated.
“Inappropriate in what way, sir?” Kirk returned calmly, though inside he was shaking in his boots. After twenty years, was the jig finally up? Were they about to be exposed in front of not only Komack but Starfleet Command and the entire Federation?
“A romantic, even sexual, relationship,” the Starfleet commanding Admiral continued. “And not only that, a long-term relationship.”
“If we are, is there something wrong with that?” Kirk threw back defensively.
“Calm down, Captain.” Komack tried to soothe Kirk’s ruffled feathers. “I’m not accusing either of you of anything, simply asking a question.”
“And invading our privacy in the process,” Kirk threw back. “Our personal relationship has never affected our efficiency nor our ability to perform our duties. Just who told you all this, anyway? Someone who’s left the ship?”
“No; in fact, it’s someone presently serving with you,” the Admiral told him.
“Name, please,” Kirk bit out.
“Sorry, that’s impossible. I promised them anonymity,” Komack returned coolly. “Besides, the person I mentioned never gave us a name—merely the fact that they serve on the *Enterprise* and have for twenty years.”
“May I know in what capacity?” Kirk retorted, barely keeping his temper.
“I only know that the complaint originated from the Medical Department,” Komack went on. “That’s all I can tell you.” The Admiral was silent for a time, then said, “So, are you admitting to the truth of the aforementioned charges?”
“I’m admitting only that Mr. Spock and I are close friends and have been for many years,” Kirk informed him.
“At least twenty years?” Komack persisted.
“Going on twenty-five,” the Captain replied.
“There is no...inappropriate relationship between you, then?”
“If being close friends is inappropriate, then we’re in an inappropriate relationship,” Kirk responded.
“I didn’t ask you if you were close friends, Captain. That is common knowledge,” Komack returned, his voice ominously quiet. “What I’m asking is there any point during the last twenty-plus years, at which your relationship with Mr. Spock has...progressed beyond friendship?”
“In other words, you’re asking if we’re lovers,” the Captain shot back. “What would happen if I said
we were...hypothetically speaking?”
“Nothing, theoretically, because of your and Mr. Spock’s positions in the starship command hierarchy—but there are plenty of people who would disapprove, some in pretty high places themselves…who could make it very unpleasant for not only the two of you, but all those closest to you. Mr. Spock, you are married, are you not?” Komack asked, addressing Spock for the first time since the interrogation had begun.
“Affirmative, Admiral,” Spock replied. “My wife is the Assistant Chief Medical Officer, and we have one child—a daughter.”
“How does your wife view your relationship with the Captain?”
“We are...happy together, Admiral. I have explained the situation to her, and she is able to live with it as long as I divide my time equally between her, our child and the Captain.”
“What will you tell your child when she’s old enough to notice what’s going on?”
“Christine and I have agreed that we will address that issue when the situation arises. It is illogical to concern ourselves with it overmuch at the moment.”
Komack had to concede Spock’s point, so he turned his attention back to Kirk, but the Captain was ready for him.
“I’m also constrained to point out, sir, that I happen to know several people in Starfleet Command who are in the same position as Mr. Spock and myself—not to mention quite a few in the Fleet itself, as well as Starbase Commanders and planetary authorities, many of whom I know personally. If they think they can pass judgment on us for doing the same thing they themselves are doing, they can think again. And you can pass this on to all those self-righteous hypocrites: If I hear one word regarding Mr. Spock and myself, I’ll tell the entire inhabited Galaxy everything I know about *them*. That’s a promise!”
Kirk’s vehement declaration had the desired effect, and the Captain noted it with satisfaction.
“Admiral, I don’t see that Mr. Spock and I have done anything that we should be singled out for unless this person aboard ship has a vendetta against us for some reason and is doing this to get revenge.”
It was obvious that this thought had also occurred to Komack. “You may have something there, Jim. Let me see what I can find out on this end and try to warn off the hypocrites. Of course, I can’t guarantee that everyone will listen.”
“Let sho shoot off their mouths, Admiral. I have enough documentation on enough of them to more than offset anything they can come up with on Spock and myself!”
*Jim, what are you saying? Surely you do not intend to do such a thing?* Kirk felt Spock’s horrified astonishment.
*I certainly do,* the Captain returned. *They have no right to pass judgment on us when they’re doing the same thing. Hell, I even know people on both Komack’s and Nogura’s staffs who are having love affairs like ours!*
*That does not mean we have to lower ourselves to their level,* Spock countered. *In addition, we have more important matters to concern ourselves with—such as finding the person aboard ship with the vendetta against us. I believe Christine would be willing to assist us once I explain the situation to her.*
Kirk privately considered the possibility that Christine herself might be the culprit, but quickly dismissed the thought before Spock could pick it up. He was still skating on pretty thin ice with Spock as it was, so he couldn’t afford an accusation against Christine at this time, especially without any concrete proof. Best thing to do was simply bide his time and see what she (or they and Komack) could come up with.