I do not own anything of Star Trek, except books, DVDs, and a key chain fob with single film cell of Spock from TOS.
Kirk sighed. Fingers at the bridge of his nose, hazel eyes hidden by his hands and half-closed lids, he knew for dead certain that he would have one of those headaches by the time this discussion was over, if not before. His office never felt so small and uncomfortable.
Nothing, nothing, nothing would ever come to good if his chief communications officer, his head nurse and his first officer waited in front of him, silently, like three naughty children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. He could only hope that the three were suitably embarrassed. The events that brought them to his office weren't at all good and there really wasn't a damn thing he could do personally to fix it. The women's heads tilted down; Spock stared forward, emotions held tightly in check, trying to resemble a greenish marble statue.
"So tell me. From the beginning. How did this happen?" Kirk looked directly at his stoic best friend. Spock would have seemed emotionless to anyone else, but Kirk noted minute tensions in the Vulcan's face and posture, Kirk hated to take a, what could he call it, a 'parental role' with his first officer. Nothing else seemed to fit the situation, but it felt damn strange and even more damnably wrong.
"The mole' at the new year's celebration in the science lab. I was not aware that it contained both chocolate and cinnamon. The dish itself was vegetarian and skillfully prepared." Spock's voice was low, controlled, his word choices boded evasiveness and the circumlocution that only the Vulcan could achieve.
"Mint juleps at the med lab's party," Christine half-smiled at the memory, then added, "McCoy pours a mean drink."
"Scotch. Engineering. Old. Smoooooth." An expert in communications, Nyota used few words and said a lot. She closed her heady brown eyes like a cat satiated with sunshine.
The captain continued, directed still at Spock. The look in his eyes. Defiance? Like that of a teenager? Not quite, Kirk decided.
"Sooo, I am to understand that you ate the mole' . . .?"
"I am uncommonly fond of sweet potatoes, a key ingredient in the dish that was prepared by Ensign Sanchez. The recipe is one that had been used by his family for many generations. He claimed it dates back several hundred years." Ahhh, the evasiveness. The redirection. Vulcans may not lie, but that didn't mean that his Vulcan couldn't, and wouldn't, redirect.
"and you didn't feel the effects of the chocolate until . . ."
"After I had consumed enough for the chemicals to have a significant impact on my behavior. At that point, I noted the loss of control and immediately left to return to my quarters. When I entered the lift, I encountered Nyota, Ms. Uhura. She was giggling."
"Under the circumstances, I think you can continue to call her 'Nyota,'" Kirk said, the turned to Ms. Uhura. "With her permission, of course," he added.
Nyota nodded her approval with a smile. "He told me I was beautiful," she added softly looking away from Chapel and directly at Spock.
Spock froze for .27 seconds at the comment, then continued, "She was on her way to sick bay, as she had consumed too much alcohol and was seeking relief from inebriation. She was having difficulty with her co-ordination and required my assistance to remain in a upright position"
"Sickbay was a good choice then, Lieutenant," Kirk nodded, "And I suppose it was responsible for you to have assisted her, Spock." Nyota blushed. Kirk was surprised that she could have felt any more embarrassed than she did.
Spock closed his eyes for a moment. Kirk thought he felt something akin to a wish for klaxons and a combined Romulan and Klingon attack coming from the Vulcan. An unlikely occurrence, of course, as the great ship was well within Federation territory and on it's way for resupply and repair at Vulcan.
"Nyota suggested that I might want to come with her and receive treatment for my accidental poisoning. I agreed with her logic and followed." Spock took a deep breath and continued.
"I sought to avoid the Doctor, as I felt, at the time, unwilling to deal with his potentially annoying questioning and comments, so Nyota and I entered through the entrance to the smaller bio-lab. There we met Christine, Ms. Chapel. She was by herself, drinking what was, we later determined, her third McCoy-produced mint julep." Christine was looking at Nyota. Kirk could have sworn they were either making eyes or faces at each other.
"'Christine' is fine." Christine murmured in Spock's direction, "But you already know that. You said so yourself." A coy smile on her face, she winked at the Vulcan. "And you know, Captain," she looked directly at Kirk, "that Leonard never skimps on the Southern Comfort."
Spock tilted his head slightly and quirked an eyebrow. "Due to the effects of the chocolate and cinnamon in my system, I don't remember much after that, except for what I have been able to recall through my meditations and subsequent discussions with Ms. Uhura and Ms. Chapel. Most of the memories are not appropriate to share, even with you, Jim, and certainly not with you in front of Nyota and Christine" Spock's ear tips were a darker green and Kirk almost smiled at the greenish blush across his friends cheeks. Almost. He was still trying to figure out what was going on in Spock's logical brain.
Both women were trying very hard to look elsewhere, but the tall handsome, blushing Vulcan seemed to draw them to him. Even standing, they leaned ever-so-slightly in his direction.
Kirk was impressed by the clear, scientific, utterly equivocating way Spock related the happenings. No stuttering, no innuendos. Any other man, and Kirk knew he would get the details later over drinks and in not such a polite manner. With Spock, maybe never.
"I, uh, we, the three of us" Spock hurriedly corrected, "awoke the next morning in VIP suite in such a condition that it was undeniable as to what took place the night before." Kirk had spoken to himself too soon. If Spock would have been human, he would have been sweating when he stuttered those words.
"Then . . ." Kirk prompted, his hazel eyes flashed briefly. The situation was deadly serious, AND going to give him a headache, both present and future. He was sure it would be hilarious in about twenty years over a bottle of saurian brandy with McCoy.
"We cleaned up ourselves and the room, agreed to keep silent about the occurrence and kept that vow for 1.8 weeks until . . ."
Christine interrupted Spock. "I think I have the next part," she said.
Ny came in sickbay looking like death warmed over, her dark face pale, the delicate skin around her eyes spotted with tiny hemorrhages as if she had been throwing up.
"I really need something for the stomach flu, Chris," Nyota held her arms tight over her stomach, her eyes glazing. "I've spent the morning tossing my breakfast. I'm swollen and I hurt and can you call me in to the bridge cause I don't think I'm gonna mak . . . urgh"
Chris Chapel held a disposable bedpan under her friend's face, and professionally waited for her to finish puking. When Nyota moved to clean herself up in the lavatory, Chris promptly threw-up herself.
Christine disposed of the evidence and rinsed her mouth out in the lab sink just before Nyota emerged from the lav, looking less wan, but shakier, than when she entered.
"Hop up on the bio-bed," Christine directed. "Lemme scan you to see what's going on, then we'll know what we can do for your symptoms."
Nyota hopped up on the bed. Chris ran the scanners over her, then again and a third time just to be sure. She took a deep breath and put on her most professional face and demeanor.
"Ny, you don't have the flu," she said, keeping a levelness and control in her voice that she didn't feel. "You're pregnant."
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck." Nyota repeated the curse over and over again. She buried her face in her hands, then used her exquisitely groomed nails to pull her hair forward. "How the hell am I going to tell him?" She stared at Chris. "It was just that one time. Other than that I haven't been active for months. Just how the hell am I going to tell Spock he's going to be a father?"
Chris sucked in a deep cleansing breath and took Nyota's hands in hers. "The same way I am."
"You, too. You mean . . .," Uhura breathed softly, "I kinda thought he'd be sterile."
"He's two for two saying he's not. Readings are Vulcan for both of us," Christine said. "I bet that whoever put him together made sure that he was fertile with both human and Vulcan woman."
Nyota released her friend's hands, shuddering. "What a horrible way for a new year's party to end!" Nyota cried. A small smile shadowed across her face and vanished. "I don't know if I should laugh or cry!"
Nyota took up the tale next. "I reserved a small conference room and scheduled a meeting for the three of us," she explained, then paused. "May we sit down, sir? I'm feeling a bit nauseous right now."
"Of course, Lieutenant." Kirk said, "Be seated. Sorry I didn't think of that myself."
The women eased themselves into chairs. Kirk grabbed his office waste can, pulled out the bag of trash, replaced the liner with the extra one stored at the bottom of the bright metal can and pushed it near Uhura.
Spock remained standing. "You sit down, too," Kirk directed.
"I prefer to remain standing, sir." he said in his controlled, Very Vulcan way.
Jim released an annoyed breath. "Sit down, Spock. Come on, PLEASE. Sit down." He glared for a moment at his first officer and friend. This was a difficult situation for them all and the stoic Vulcan, going into Vulcan mode didn't help.
"Nyota?" Kirk prompted his comm chief.
"Yes, sir. As I said, I set up a meeting with the three of us," she continued. "Chris and I thought it would be best if we both told him at the same time. It wasn't as if either of us had a true prior claim and since the three of us were together at the time it happened, well, Chris and I just thought we should talk to him together." Both women stared at Kirk, looking for his . . .forgiveness? Understanding? Permission to continue one of the hardest and weirdest conversations he had in years?
"OK, that's reasonable," Kirk agreed. He really, truly hoped this would be funny in twenty years. "The conference rooms can be sound-proofed and this is not something that you'd want on the Enterprise gossip circuit. I can understand your reasons for telling him at the same time."
Oh, and by the way, how WAS having HIS emotionally repressed XO knock-up two of the highest ranking women on HIS starship at the same time going to impact HIS crew's morale and discipline? Kirk didn't want to think about that. If he did, then he'd have to think about how it happened and he really didn't want to think about the image of Spock in a drunken orgy with Chris and Nyota. Himself, maybe, but not Spock. Never Spock. Spock: the antithesis of a drunken orgy. Kirk decided on which serious face to use while listening to Nyota.
"We talked for about three hours and put together the outline of a plan to deal with the roles and responsibilities, tasks, deadlines, and possible outcomes of the situation." Uhura tapped the PADD that she carried. "I have it all documented here along with a projected time-line." Uhura's face went ashen and she dropped the PADD to the side of her chair. Her breakfast went into the waste can. Spock calmly leaned forward, tied off the offending contents and asked Kirk if he had any more liners.
I am a starship captain, Kirk repeated to himself three or four times. I can handle ANYTHING. Invasions, diplomats, bureaucratic idiots, crisis in space, exploding warp cores, exploding stars. He pulled a roll of liners he wasn't supposed to have from his bottom desk drawer. Maintenance would confiscate them if they knew the liners were there.
Kirk stared at the PADD that was back in Uhura's lap. He should have expected that they would have a plan. He couldn't remember exactly how many Ph.D.s and project management training classes the three shared, but he knew it was impressive. He finally decided on his course of action. Bureaucracy, here I come, he thought.
"There are two major potential issues from Star Fleet. First, a violation of the "Number one is fraternization regulations - the ones we overlook unless there is a conflict of interest occurring. Mr. Spock and Ms. Uhura are department heads and Ms. Chapel is under Medical. I write reviews for both Spock and Nyota, McCoy does Chris' and I sign off on it." Kirk paused, thoughtfully. "Problem is Spock is also my first officer, which puts him in everyone's line of command."
"The ameliorating factor for Mr. Spock is that he did not purposefully consume intoxicants. He can legitimately claim that he was drugged or poisoned, by accident, but it still happened." Kirk paused, uncertain how to phrase the rest of his unprepared speech. "However, you two are a different matter because of the second potential issue. You chose to drink and become inebriated, which makes you responsible for your actions. Based on the regs, Mr. Spock could file complaints against both of you for sexual misconduct and rape. We do apparently have the evidence for that by your own admissions."
"Whaaat, sir! We didn't . . ."
"Are you sure, sir? We were all . . ."
"I have no desire to, nor is there a need to, "press charges," Jim," Spock, the Voice of Vulcan Reason, said. "There is one detail we have not yet shared. If it had not been for the unforeseen outcome we have just reported, we would have handled everything on Vulcan when we arrive there in 1.4 weeks. I had already made the appointments needed with a healer and a priestess to break the marital bonds I created with both Nyota and Christine that night." Spock gave a very human sigh.
"By the laws of my people, which ARE recognized by the Federation, I am married to both of them."
"Marital bonds?" Jim repeated the words flatly. "You bonded with BOTH of them," Kirk held his expression tight, "Can you do that? Bigamy is acceptable on Vulcan?"
Spock nodded and lowered his eyes. "A poor description, at best. The laws are old, from before the time of Surak, but still a part of our legal structure. It does not happen in modern times, and is frowned upon, but it is still legal."
"Without the marriage bond, a child is considered kren'ath, a shamed one. I would not wish this on my kan-bu. Not on either of my children or their ko-mehk-lar, and I fully intend to claim both as my heirs." Spock looked directly at each of the women. "My parents never expected grandchildren after my divorce from T'Pring."
Kirk finally realized why the two vibrant opinionated female officers had been so quiet during the conversation. They had been talking to Spock and each other through the bond. Kirk should have known. He'd used the link he had with Spock the same way over the years.
Oh, god, was there ever going to be paperwork! Kirk had decided that his polygamous first officer was going to fill out all the forms and reports himself.
"Goddammit, Spock!" Kirk wasn't sure if it were from frustration or envy. "Did you have to. . . I mean BOTH of them?"
He never knew how he knew Spock's response before the words left the very proper Vulcan's lips. He didn't know if it was a glint in Spock's eye, a quirk of that eyebrow, a tilt of the Vulcan's head, or that tenuous mental connection which made them the best command team Star Fleet had ever seen, but Kirk was not surprised when Spock replied, "It seemed the logical thing to do at the time."
Kirk finally named the expression he'd seen in his first's face. Damn it all, if that Vulcan wasn't fucking proud of what he'd done. There, Kirk felt the tightness and pain as it traveled across the top of his skull, was his headache. He wondered if Bones still had that bottle of saurian brandy. He was going to need it a lot sooner than twenty years.