Leave to Care Part I

   
          Part  I

After the flash of the transporter faded, signaling the return of the last survey team, Kirk flipped open his communicator and called the ship. “That’s the last of them, Scotty. Unless McCoy has objections, you can start beaming down the shore leave parties immediately.”

“Sir, the doctor’s not seen fit to send his final report to my attention, yet. Just a moment.” There was a pause while Scotty contacted Sickbay. The temporary commander of the Enterprise left the channel to the surface open so Kirk could hear the response.

The gruff, impatient voice of the Chief Medical Officer responded quickly. “Yes, Mr. Scott, sorry. I had to double check something – was afraid our Andorians might have trouble with one of the trace elements in the atmosphere on the southern coast of the continent. I’ve reworked the landing party rosters and coordinates, just to be on the safe side. We’re set as we are. Turn ‘em loose.” As Scott started to speak, McCoy’s voice returned to interject, more loudly, “That should include the Captain.”

Kirk smiled. “I hear you, Bones. I officially started my shore leave five minutes ago. What about you? Planning to join us, or are you still having fun with your genetic samples?”

A snort came over the line. “I’ll be in the lab until I’m ninety trying to get organized enough to even have a place to begin analysis. The cellular RNA in the-”

“I’m sure I’ll be fascinated to read all about it in your report, Doctor, just as soon as I get back,” Kirk interrupted, and heard what sounded very much like Scotty suppressing a snort. A few grumbles were overridden by Mr. Scott’s polite acknowledgment and dismissal. Kirk drew a deep breath and said the most difficult words he ever said to anyone, “Thank you, Mr. Scott. Command of the Enterprise is yours for the next eighty hours.” He resisted the very strong urge to add anything else. Scott was more than competent, and with McCoy staying on board the crew rotating down to the planet would be well monitored.

Mr. Scott’s voice was as polite – and as amused, if much more restrained about it – as it had been in addressing McCoy. “Aye, sir. I have the conn. I’ll take care of her, sir – little enough trouble we can get into, flying in circles up here.” Despite the vaguely martyred tone, Kirk knew it wasn’t a complaint. After the events of recent weeks, they could all use a bit of a rest, and the Chief Engineer was doubtlessly looking forward to getting his department in trim to his exacting standards during the lull. “You just look after yourself, sir.”

Giving a look of mild devilment to his First Officer, standing a few meters away examining a fruit-laden branch, Kirk reacted to the mother-henning with a charge of his own, “Enjoy the rest, Mr. Scott. Just don’t get so busy tinkering with the engines you leave the bridge unattended.”

“Captain!” Mock insult deepened the Scots’ brogue, and Kirk could almost see the man glowering at the conn mic in proxy. “That’s never a question. You just make sure you keep yourself in fit shape to come back to it, sir.”

Giving up on avoidance – between McCoy and Scotty anyone would think he was a mischievous little boy in need of a keeper – Kirk just assured, “Count on it. See you in three days, Scotty. Kirk out.”

He hesitated an instant in flipping his communicator shut, and saw Spock catch him at it, a mild, curious flick of the dark eyes. He dropped his hand and hooked the small device on his hip as if the delay had been meaningless.

James Kirk took a deep breath of the cool, sweetly-scented air and forced his mind away from the ship in orbit and all the responsibilities inherent in his command of her. He’d said it himself – he was off duty for the duration.

Nidra, on the whole, was a beautiful, peaceful planet. Devoid of sentient or even proto-sentient development, with no large or aggressive predators, and wide temperate zones currently basking at the midpoint of the planet’s axial tilt, bringing the daytime temperatures all along the equatorial continent into the sixties, Fahrenheit. Afternoon coastal showers and the occasional light rain was the most they’d observed in the way of weather in the region in their six weeks of survey and exploration.

It reminded him of the valley on Alpha Centauri in the early spring more than anywhere else, possibly more than anywhere he’d ever been. He took another deep breath in, more slowly, letting his eyes close; held it for a moment. The warm, rich scent of alien fruit infused the light, ever-present breeze, some universal quality of ripeness lying evocatively alongside the new-growth scent from the vines that grew everywhere among the planet-spanning groves.

He’d seldom encountered a planet quite so pleasant and yet uninhabited that didn’t hide some terrible secret, but Enterprise scientific parties had been crawling all over the surface for all that time, and concentrating on the temperate zones. There were of course a few things to watch out for, and a few extra things for certain species among the crew to avoid, but nothing whatsoever that a starship crew should have any trouble with.

The worst he was expecting from this shore leave were a few minor injuries, like sprained ankles, and possibly a few allergic reactions. Nothing at all that would prove dangerous to well-trained Starfleet personnel a single button-press from immediate beam-out.

He opened his eyes before he could start going through all the possibilities for disaster to find Spock still watching him, if surreptitiously, still taking tricorder readings of his latest botanical interest. Feigned indifference was something of an art for the man, and he was quite capable of multitasking much more complicated matters. Kirk smiled at him, even if Spock was pretending not to study his expression. “I haven’t heard McCoy so happy in months,” he remarked. “I think he’s been sleeping in his office the last few weeks. If he’s slept in the last three days.”

The tall Vulcan tilted him a nod, closing the top of his specially modified tricorder. “The flora on Nidra are enough to keep any scientist’s interest engaged. The medical potential suggested by the early surveys’ report of unusually parallel evolution between several species here and close equivalents on Algoran IV – which as you know has proven to be a significant contributor to Federation medicine – make specialized botanical research an early priority. Excellent sources of heatine and guavis have already been catalogued, with an estimated average 12% greater purity in-”

Jim Kirk raised a bemused eyebrow at the man who was also his Chief Science Officer, waiting for a pause to interject, “Have you slept in the last three days?”

In no way offering the answer Kirk already knew, Spock said, “Captain, you are aware I can go without sleep for significant periods of time, without the ill effects a human would experience.” The answer was urbane enough, but a hint of manufactured arrogance underlay that last bit, and Jim laughed.

“Except when you finally get to sleep after a stretch like that it takes a Red Alert to rouse you. You may be able to handle it, but you can’t convince me you don’t get tired, beyond human or not.”

Before Spock could answer the teasing, perhaps find something else to say to keep the laughter in the tired golden-hazel eyes, the hum of the transporter rose again, depositing two neat packs on the ground in front of them. They’d packed their gear early and left it for the Captain’s yeoman to beam down at the end of the shift so they didn’t have to waste precious, too-long-awaited leave time beaming back aboard.

Where a dozen duties waited to beckon each of them to just a few minutes, a few hours, “we’ll go in the morning,” and three days would pass before they apologized to one another and started planning for the next shore leave. Again.

Temptations aside, the sun would set at their coordinates in about three hours, and by unspoken agreement they both wanted to get in some hiking and sight-seeing before setting up their camp, giving themselves an opportunity to see the planet with appreciative rather than professional eyes, before darkness closed around them for the fourteen-hour Nidran night.

Jim knelt to tighten one of the straps securing his sleeping bag, then looked up at Spock with a rather distracted expression that became more distracted, if more clearly directed, as the long, supple muscles in the Vulcan’s body stood out in relief against the fabric of his uniform, as Spock shrugged into his own pack.

Jim blinked after a moment, shook himself out of it, then opened the top compartment of his pack and addressed it extremely casually. “Vulcan physiology doesn’t protect you from getting tired, and it won’t protect you from McCoy if you push it too far, either. You know you can still back out of this. Spend your leave playing chess with Lt. Chroit and kibitzing McCoy’s research.”

He found what he wanted in the pack and straightened, stripping off his command tunic with a rather emphatic gesture and replacing it with a warm blue pullover. “I know this climate’s awfully cold for you, and you’ve been burning it at both ends these past few weeks. I really won’t be offended.”

Spock’s dark eyes followed the slightly tense movements of the muscular, compact body with curiosity and appreciation – purely aesthetic, of course, the rich blue fabric had a positive affect on the golden tones in his Captain’s hair and eyes – and barely concealed fondness.

No, Jim would not be at all offended if he chose the comforts of rest aboard ship rather than the rigors of cold-weather camping. Not offended. Disappointed, perhaps. Regretful, even, of a missed chance for shared adventure. There was a 63% chance he would follow Spock back to the ship tonight, too, rising to 82% by tomorrow evening.

As fervently as the man always burned to chase the next star, there was something rejuvenating about having a planet beneath his feet and a sky above him, at least for a little while. Perhaps it was only that aboard the Enterprise, or in any other civilized place, he was always first a Starfleet Captain of the line – even when that hadn’t been strictly true, in some ineffable way, it had been.

In a wilderness such as this perhaps he was first a man, with no need to think beyond the limits of his own skin. Everywhere else he lived in service, to his ship, his command, and his calling. When there were no eyes on him and no task before him, perhaps he could simply live, for a few stolen moments. There was a vitality that seemed to soak into him with the sunlight. He seemed to expand, come unwound, with ground to stretch his legs over. Spock had observed the phenomenon for too many years to be willing to see Jim pass up the chance for that sorely needed restoration now.

Kirk felt the intent gaze on him, felt the studying warmth in it, but didn’t quite look back at him. His expression was an attempt at lightness he was fairly certain Spock could see through, but hopefully not to the rather abashed uncertainty that’d surprised him even as he made what had started out as a joking offer, until he’d heard himself make a couple of good points. Spock did have every reason to be tired, and Nidra was on the brisk side even for humans at night, with its constant winds. The unusual emotion made the starship Captain internally roll his eyes at himself, but somehow that didn’t help dismiss the feeling.

The last two months had been… unusual. The confident assertiveness that had made him a legend in the Fleet for his amorous exploits wasn’t really anywhere to be found recently. He felt like he’d gone back in time a couple of decades. He’d fumbled his response to Hunter’s proposal even more than he was fumbling now. He wasn’t even sure of what he wanted to ask of Spock that was making him so hesitant. Nothing that wouldn’t be given freely, certainly. Maybe that was the problem.

Their friendship had been complicated enough, requiring a balancing act between his command authority and his human enthusiasm, each in their place, that he’d failed at too often. He was always getting Spock into something, on and off duty, and while  Spock often didn’t bother to argue against enjoying some of it anymore, the potential for exploitation had been raised another order of magnitude. How could you wheedle and persuade and charm someone who might give in with a “Yes, Captain” that would leave you feeling kicked in the gut?

Not that Spock would actually do that. Except when he completely deserved it. He’d always had a better grasp on the line between subordinate and submissive than anyone Kirk had ever met. He’d learned that about his First Officer even before he’d fully come to terms with the distinction himself.

He’d also learned the hard way that where Spock loved he had no defenses whatsoever, though, so it didn’t help that much. Spock wouldn’t go against his own wishes in his non-professional life because of his Captain’s whims, but he would do it for his friend without pausing for thought. And now….

Kirk tied his pack back up with his command tunic in it, then stopped, still kneeling, when Spock’s pack landed on the ground again beside his. He is going back. Probably best. As tired as he has to be, this weather can’t be good for him. I should’ve thought of it before now. Would he have thought about it before, when the immediacy of Spock’s company had been less of a desire, and resting on knowledge of his abiding friendship had been enough?

He raised his eyes, preparing some comment about Spock’s famous intelligence finally kicking in to offer a light response to the decision, then shut his mouth with a click.

Watching Jim spend minutes refolding his tunic and tucking it way, on impulse, Spock slipped his pack back to the ground. He pulled his Sciences tunic off over his head and replaced it with a thick brown button-up in a vaguely Vulcan style, square lines and somewhat flowing. It had been a gift from his mother but was quite sturdy enough for their current trek. Though he didn’t let himself really think about it, it was also one of the few items he owned that had been chosen to flatter him.

The black thermal undershirt he customarily wore aboard ship had been replaced with a denser version, and he’d been comfortable enough during his survey work on the planet these last weeks, though he’d never spent a night there. It was his turn to look slightly away as Jim’s eyes lingered on the definition of his stomach and chest through the sleek black fabric as he covered it with the looser garment, inch by inch with each closed button. Trust his mother to find something so archaic appealing, but the method of fastening did apparently have uses he refused to consider she might be aware of.

When he finished, he kept his gaze slightly averted, aware the golden-hazel eyes had shifted from aesthetic appreciation to offer a questioning look his way. Spock had always, from the time they could be called such, understood his friend’s need to delineate the cessation of his duties and the beginning of his leisure. Kirk didn’t usually even bring a uniform on this kind of shore leave, and looking at Spock’s for the rest of the day wouldn’t contribute anything positive to his state of mind.

After he caught the wry quirk of a smile as Jim realized his motivation, Spock looked up to catch his gaze, “I have climbed in Terra’s Swiss Alps and kayaked in Tellar’s Sharras’ Wilderness Preserve with you. To list only the most extreme of our private exploits. M974 could hardly be said to provide a challenging environment in comparison.”

Jim held the look, the momentary flash of unaccustomed nervous embarrassment fading off, a wry warmth gathering in it’s place. Of course, that made it Spock’s turn for discomfiture, but though he felt the green come up in his ears he didn’t allow himself to avert his gaze. What was between them now was not something he was ashamed of, what had been between them from the beginning had not been something he was ashamed of in the years since he’d chosen his path away from Kohlinahr.

()

He let a hint of a smile curve his lips, and Jim laughed suddenly, and stood to brush a kiss to his mouth. It was chaste, just a quick gesture of affection and warmth, but it felt shocking, standing on the hillside with the wide sky vaulting over them, the wind ruffling their hair, exposed to the world.

Jim was smiling at him again, still full of humor, but gentler now. There did not have to be shame for there to be habits of culture and rank, and this was a human who understood that better than most who claimed IDIC as a primary philosophy. Who had never rested on the abstract philosophy, but had dared to engage and struggle and learn.

“The nearest other landing party is more than fifty kilometers from here. I made certain,” Jim said quietly, the smile not broadening, but seeming to spread through him, changing the set of his shoulders, almost glowing out of him. “It’s just you and me and – M974.” His gesture seemed to imply a joke, that such a sterile designation could apply to a world so full of teaming life.

Spock seized on that gratefully, feeling as if a touch of something rather wild was running through his veins as well, as the reality of their situation settled into him. Eighty hours under no one’s gaze. He swallowed and cleared his throat lightly. “Lieutenant Commander Harren, as leader of the original survey team, claimed the right to give the planet its common name.”

“Nidra,” Kirk murmured. A lovely word, fitting for this musical place, where the wind in the foliage kept a constant, sweet susurration beneath the constant calls of small winged animals, fleeting flashes of color in the corner of the eye. “I’ve noticed even you call it that.”

“Lieutenant Commander Harren is native to Artemia Seven. After her first day on the surface she chose to name the planet for her homeworld’s goddess of philosophy and beauty,” Spock explained, taking a breath of the crisp air and looking out over the rolling land surrounding them. “It is a most logical symmetry, for mythology.”

Jim smiled at him delighting in him, and settled his pack. “Come on. There’s a facing I’d like to give a try before sunset. There’s a lake not too far from it, with a good place to camp.”

The Vulcan tipped his head in acknowledgment, and let himself return the smile, feeling very caught in the same sensation. “I expected as much.” After a few very active shore leaves with Jim Kirk, Spock had found it very easy to believe humans and monkeys had common ancestors. Of course you were mindful of a particularly pleasant place for us, even with your duties.

They weren’t reading one another’s minds, and yet Jim’s sudden grin made it clear everything had been understood. He took Spock’s upper arm and steered him close enough to brush lips lightly to his cheek, smiling into his eyes. They stayed close there for a long moment, breathing one another and the freshening wind, then Spock blinked, and brushed an equally light kiss to the smiling mouth.

Jim let go of him and bumped his shoulder with his own, and they set off together down the hill.

  ………..        ….         On to Part II
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