“It’s because the whole crisis with Nero was, well, a crisis,” Nyota explains to him one afternoon in the middle of the Mess Hall. Spock is scheduled to work Beta Shift today, and so is enjoying an early breakfast while Nyota—who was working Alpha—has a late lunch. “People work differently under a lot of stress. There was this girl in my Intro to Battle Tactics class at the Academy; her name was Tel-ak’hmes. She was brilliant in her field of study but had really bad test anxiety. She would put so much stress on herself the week preceding an exam that she completely blanked on test day.”
“What was her field of study?”
Nyota breathes out heavily in what could be interpreted as a sigh. She sets her fork down and studies him carefully.
“History of Denebian culture,” she says slowly. “But it’s not relevant to the point I’m trying to make, Spock.” Perhaps expecting a response from Spock that he does not give, she pauses for a moment before continuing. “There are individuals who perform better under duress, and others who don’t. Either way, events that carry a lot of stress can bring out characteristics that the individual wouldn’t normally exhibit. Most of the class thought Tel-ak’hmes wasn’t very smart, because she was always stressing over her test-performance, but she was one of the smartest people in there.”
She takes a slow sip of her glass of water, her eyes trained on Spock. For his part, Spock is not entirely certain how he should respond. He can understand Nyota’s reasoning; however, he does not know if he agrees with her conclusion. In fact, he protests quite strongly the implication that the captain is only capable of expressing the abilities he’d exhibited on the Narada during crises.
In Spock’s opinion, further evidence is required before such a blanket statement can be given. He wants to tell Nyota that her logic is not sound and that perhaps her biases towards the captain are clouding her reasoning skills.
Instead, he says, “Thank you, Nyota, for your input.”
She smiles at him then, the first time since he had asked for her opinion on the matter. Spock thinks that perhaps he is beginning to understand why tact is so important when communicating.
“I have to get back to the bridge,” she says. She stands and hesitates for a moment before speaking again. “Will you walk with me?”
“I have an appointment with the Science Department heads in four point six minutes,” is Spock’s response. He cannot help but notice that the smile previously gracing Nyota’s delicate features is now gone.
“Of course,” she replies. “I guess I’ll see you some other time, then.”
“Undoubtedly,” Spock answers.
He does not watch her depart. Instead, he finishes up his bowl of fruit and proceeds to the Science Department.
His meeting with the ten heads of the Science Department is short. After only two months on the Enterprise and less than half a dozen exploratory missions logged, it is no surprise that there is little mission-related business to discuss. He approves several independent research projects and dismisses his subordinates fifty eight minutes later.
With fifteen minutes until his shift officially begins, Spock enters the bridge. Alpha shift is already very near over, but the nature of Spock’s schedule has him working at odd times. It is true that his circadian rhythms long ago adapted to that of a typical human diurnal schedule, because of the length of time he spent at the Academy, but lately Spock has gone out of his way to reacquaint his body with the old Vulcan day. It was tedious to force his body to adapt to a schedule that is not implemented aboard the starship. It is also more work for the quarter-master, with whom Spock has spoken with and agreed to help plan his schedule accordingly.
It is, quite unabashedly, illogical for Spock to work four hours per shift, every shift, every day. However, upon first waking, Spock thinks of Vulcan, and when he enters the mess hall it is quite empty—as most of Enterprise’s crew is either in the middle of shift or very much asleep, and so he thinks of Vulcan then. When he walks onto the bridge or science labs, and his subordinates turn to him, Spock rather hopes they also, will think of Vulcan. And in this manner, illogical behavior such as Spock’s is quite justifiable.
Someone appears to have recently said or done something humorous as Spock crosses to his station, for laughter still hangs in the air around them. The atmosphere on the bridge is relaxed and amicable when Lieutenant Gabrielle Laura stands, already familiar with his routine. She nods in acknowledgment and prepares to exit the bridge.
“I relieve you of your duties as acting Science Officer, Lieutenant,” he says before she reaches the elevator.
The lieutenant whips around and salutes him, blushing faintly.
“I am relieved, sir,” she says quickly, perhaps having forgotten simple Starfleet procedure.
“Spock, you don’t have to go through that every time you report for duty,” the captain says when the lieutenant has disappeared, swiveling in his chair to face him.
He is smiling good-naturedly, as is much of the bridge crew. Ensign Chekov and Lieutenant Sulu share a look over the helm before turning to study him.
“It is standard procedure,” Spock responds neutrally.
“I know that,” is the captain’s amiable response, “But it’s cumbersome and antiquated, too. Would it kill you to be a little more lax, Spock?”
“If you believe certain Starfleet regulations to be obsolete, sir, then I suggest you send a formal petition to Starfleet Headquarters.”
The atmosphere on the bridge changes abruptly, and Spock is not entirely sure why. The captain is no longer smiling; rather, there is the faint shadow of a frown on his face. His relaxed posture straightens out abruptly, the sound of his feet hitting the floor is inordinately loud in the ensuing silence.
“Of course, Commander,” he says. Something about his mood has shifted, as the relaxed atmosphere around the bridge has tensed minutely. “Thank you for clearing that up for me.”
Clearly the captain has taken offense where none was intended. Spock is unsure if he should apologize for whatever he may have said to cause such a negative reaction in the captain.
“Thanks are unnecessary,” Spock tries.
“Right, obviously,” Captain Kirk says, and even Spock can detect the sarcasm in his voice.
At that moment, Alpha shift officially ends, and the flood of Beta shift crew effectively cuts the conversation short. Kirk swivels back around to face the viewscreen and does not say a word as Beta shift begins.
It is obvious that the bridge crew feels the lingering tension between Kirk and himself; the only conversation on the bridge is stifled and somber. Captain Kirk waits only long enough for every member of the Beta shift crew to become situated before he stands.
“You have the bridge, Commander,” he says, and while the comment is directed at Spock, he keeps his gaze firmly locked on the viewscreen.
“Acknowledged, Captain,” Spock says.
He notices that even after the captain has gone, the tension does not ease out of the crew for another one point seven hours.
***
Catulla is a planet skirting dangerously close to the Neutral Zone. The Federation achieved first contact with it nine point seven years previous, but its planetary government has a history of paranoia and neutrality, which has proven cumbersome to certain Starfleet admirals. A formal treaty with has been stalled no less than four times in the intervening years. The most recent of which—two point two years ago—was postponed after a scandal with a Catullan Ambassador’s son.