SquidgeWorld Archive

Standing Down
by T'Aaneli

I woke up in bed; cold and alone. I rolled over and checked the chronometer. 1700 hours. Spock had been gone for an hour, and I was already missing him. As I wrapped myself back into the blankets, I recalled his last kiss--a gentle brush of lips; it was his signature when we bid adieu. It was a promise to return.

But now it was time to get up. I had already exercised too much of my captain's prerogative in taking unscheduled time off with Spock earlier this afternoon. Personnel reports awaited my review. I swung my feet out of bed, wincing at the stiffness in my lower back. I could hear the echo of Spock's voice reminding me to stretch before getting up.

I padded across the room. As I entered the head, my eyes fell on Spock's robe. He hadn't taken it; he usually traveled with it. Odd.

My unease had been growing over the last two months as I had watched Spock become increasingly quiet and distant. He had been receiving private messages from his father on a weekly basis. Although addressed to both of us, he had been securing them to his own voice print. At first I hadn't though much of it.

Admittedly, I had found it odd, but I had respected his privacy. But then the private transmissions from Starfleet Command had begun, followed by two four-day leaves that he'd taken during the last month.

And now, this request for a month of leave--with only three months left to go on our final mission. It just wasn't like Spock. That uneasy feeling in my gut was telling me that something was wrong.

Sighing, I looked into the mirror above the sink. I grimaced. Grey. More and more of it daily. And those wrinkles.

Here I was, looking like someone's grandfather while Spock kept looking more and more elegant. Where was the fairness in life?

Over the years, I had watched and admired Spock's growing maturity. With age, his youthful grace had evolved into an aura of confidence and controlled power. Spock was following in his father's footsteps. He was becoming a Vulcan to be reckoned with.

As I stood there staring at Spock's robe, my thoughts wandered to the future. To our future. What would happen after the mission ended? Retirement? My hands clutched the edge of the sink. The word still terrified me. Although Spock and I had talked about my increased role on the Vulcan Council after the end of the mission, we had always avoided the topic of exactly what he would do.

But now we would have to talk about it. The mission was finally ending. It was something I had to accept. The days of the _Enterprise NCC 17701-A_ were numbered. As were mine as her captain.

* * * * * * * * *

"I'd recommend the 66 Isle of Man. It was a particularly good year." McCoy raised a glass in toast.

"And why such a particularly good year?" I poured myself a drink, keeping it small, remembering Spock's silent concern about the effect of alcohol on the metabolism of an aging starship captain.

"Why, Jim, don't you recall? It was the year I started serving on the Enterprise," McCoy replied, mock annoyance in his voice.

"Of course." I stared down at the scotch admiring the iridescent colours. Too many of these and I'd be maudlin all night.

We sat together in companionable silence. How many times had we done this over the years? The after dinner drink in Bones' quarters. I was going to miss it. Stop it. I shook my head. Enough of this self-pity.

I heard Bones shift in his seat. I tensed as I heard him start the question. I knew it had been coming. "Jim. What's up? You've been quiet for the last couple of weeks, but it's getting to the point where ... " He paused, leaning in closer. "You're just too damned passive lately. Nothing seems to bother you.

You're not getting passionate about anything anymore."

Just like Bones. I could always rely on him to cut through idle chit chat and get to the point. "Haven't you felt it, Bones? The end creeping up." I swirled the scotch in my glass. "I hate it. I'm the lame duck captain of a starship about to be decommissioned. And I'm so tired, Bones. I'm tired of all the congratulatory farewell speeches. I'm tired of nodding my head and being polite when everybody compliments us on our accomplishments and wishes us good luck."

I shifted in my chair, turning towards my oldest friend. "And maybe I've finally started to realize that my own future isn't that certain. For the first time in my life, I'm looking at a future where I don't have Starfleet. I don't have the _Enterprise_. And I'm worried, Bones. I'm wondering about Spock and his future."

"Jim--"

I waved away the attempt at reassurance I could hear in his voice. "Bones, face it. I'm sixty years old. Spock is three years older. But look at us. He's not even in the prime of his life. What's he going to do for the next twenty or thirty or forty years? Watch me get old and die. I can't handle that."

"Jim, you're being ridiculous. You and Spock knew from the moment you became bondmates that he would likely survive you by a hundred years or so. Haven't you talked to Spock about this?"

"No." We hadn't. Why not? My fear of facing mortality? I don't know.

McCoy snorted. "Jim. Listen to yourself. If I were Spock, I'd be flabbergasted. How many years have you been bonded? How well do you know each other? The way you're talking right now, I'd think that you started seeing one another a few months ago. Have some faith in Spock. Talk to him."

I downed the rest of the shot. Bones was right. I had to talk to Spock. I had to know what he wanted to do after our retirement from Starfleet. We had to plan the next phase in our life together.

* * * * * * * * *

The viewscreen in my quarters flickered on. The

Starfleet logo was replaced by Selek's cheerful grin.

"Dad!"

"Selek. How are you? You haven't fallen in love without telling me, have you?" I couldn't help grinning as I watched Selek's eyebrows climbing in mock outrage and amusement. So much like his father.

"Dad. Enough. You know I'm fine. The tone of loving exasperation in Selek's voice warmed me. Although I may have lost one child, this young man was precious to me. More so than David, if anybody had ever dared to ask. Even if he wasn't my biological son, I had raised this young man. We chatted for a few minutes, catching up on his life

"Father and I had lunch at your favourite spot in Ghiradelli Square It's still overpriced and touristy by the way."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I hope you had a good time," I replied, even as I started wondering. Spock? On Earth?

"We did. But he misses you. So do I."

"And I miss you, Sel. I'm looking forward to spending more time with you." And it was true. I was retiring from Starfleet. I wasn't retiring from life.

* * * * * * * * *

The comm unit chimed softly with an incoming message.

I woke up, groggy, and rolled out of bed. I reached for the comm unit, flicking on the audio only switch. "Kirk here."

"Jim." The soft baritone rippled through the room. My eyes widened instantly. I ran my hand through my hair, trying to create some semblance of orderliness as I reached for the visual switch.

After I toggled the switch, my pulse quickened as I saw Spock's composed features on the screen. God. He was still so sexy. Carved features. Dark eyes. Elegantly swept ears. That aura of power and dignity. I felt my heart beat quickening. I could feel the blush creeping across my cheeks in response

to the flutter of excitement I felt in the pit of my stomach. Twenty-five years later I was still amazed at the depth of my immediate physical response.

"Spock."

"I appear to have woken you. I apologize." The concerned look on Spock's features made me want to laugh. "T'hy'la. Have I ever complained? About you waking me?" I smiled. It was my turn to watch that almost imperceptible blush rise in Spock's cheeks. After all these years, I could still make Spock blush. My own grin widened in response. "I talked to Selek

today. He told me you visited him a few days ago."

I saw the hesitation before Spock answered. "Indeed,

I did. He sends his love." My joy at seeing Spock was immediately tempered bythat brief pause before Spock replied. Why did Spock seem nervous about the fact that I knew he was on Earth?

"Spock. I'm not going to ask you where you are, but is there something that I should know about?" There was no use in hiding the concern behind my words.

"Jim. You should be receiving orders shortly. I am requesting that you ask no more." I heard the silent plea in Spock's voice--'no more questions'.

"All right, Spock. This time." As I stared at Spock over the viewscreen, I felt a coldness growing within me. The quiet intensity on Spock's face was worrying me. What was going on?

"When are you coming back, Spock?"

"Soon, Jim." I sensed the hesitation in Spock's answer.

We ended our conversation, discussing ship's business and personnel matters until we were each satisfied that all was as it should be. Except for the fact that the captain and first officer of the _Enterprise_ were separated.

* * * * * * * * *

Accompanied by my senior-officers my stride was relaxed and confident as I entered the briefing room at the Admiralty. Maybe we weren't a lame duck starship after all. This meeting might have an interesting outcome. As I looked around at the

motley assortment of Starfleet personnel, my curiosity kept growing. "What are we doing here?" I asked McCoy as we walked towards our seats.

"Maybe they're throwing us a retirement party?"

McCoy replied, only half in jest.

As I neared my seat, I scanned the room again. "Where's Spock?" Spock's brief comm message of the night before had reassured me that he would be present at today's briefing, and, in fact, that he would be returning to the Enterprise with me. That knowledge had made the night pass easier.

I took my seat, and the meeting began. As I stood up

for the arrival of the Commander in Chief, my eyes searched the room once more. Spock was never late. Where was he? My attention was soon occupied by the subject of the hour. Praxis destroyed. The Klingons left with fifty years of life. It was not a fate that I would have wished on anybody. Nonetheless, I felt some small sense of satisfaction in the ways of the universe. The Klingons had manufactured their own destiny.

When the C in C announced that the briefing would be continued by the Federation Special Envoy, I looked towards the entryway with the same curiosity as everyone else. But when I saw Spock's familiar form enter, I felt a chill. I forced my face to remain expressionless. I would not embarrass myself or Spock. I would let everybody think that, of course, I

had known where Spock was this last month. That it had been a covert operation to which I had been privy. But as my eyes followed Spock, the questions kept growing. Why was Spock here? Why had he been chosen as the Special Envoy? Why had he not discussed any of this with me?

As Spock took the podium, I watched him intently. He continued the briefing in his normal eloquent manner. Just like the first officer I depended upon. When I heard him mention negotiations with the Klingons, I felt the atmosphere in the room electrify.

"Negotiations for what?" I heard someone ask incredulously.

"The dismantling of our space stations and starbases along the Neutral Zone. An end to almost seventy years of unremitting hostility which the Klingons can no longer afford." Spock's reply was delivered with perfect aplomb despite the shocked gasps from virtually everyone in the room.

Somebody asked *the* question. "Are we talking about mothballing the Starfleet?" As we awaited the reply, my concerns as a starship captain came to the forefront of my thoughts. Dismantling the space stations and starbases along the Neutral Zone? How carefully had this been thought out? How did the Federation intend to protect itself from the

skirmishes and misunderstandings that would inevitably develop? More importantly, how could the Federation simply assume that peace with the Klingons would be so easily achieved?

I have always refused to let my personal feelings towards the Klingons impact on my actions. But now, I couldn't help but wonder how the Starfleet brass who had developed this strategy would react in hand to hand combat with a Klingon warrior. What did they know of Klingon values and principles? How could the Federation be so absolutely trusting? And how had Spock become involved in all of this? Hadn't he suggested any caution?

"I'm sure that our exploration and scientific programmes would be unaffected." It was a rehearsed answer and as I listened to the conversation it invoked, I realized that others shared my reluctance to be so trusting.

I felt compelled to speak. I stared at Spock but directed my words to the gathered brass. "The Klingons have never been trustworthy. This is a terrifying idea." The moment I said it, I flinched inwardly as I saw Spock's eyes darken.

But it was the C in C who replied. "You, Captain Kirk, are to be our first olive branch." I sat there, not even bothering to attempt to hide my shock and surprise.

As I looked back at Spock, he began to explain. "We have volunteered to rendezvous with the Klingon vessel which is bringing--"

"Me?" I cut Spock off, shocked at what I was hearing.

"I have personally vouched for you in this matter, Captain." Spock was so calm. What was happening

"You. Have personally vouched?" The coldness in my heart intensified as I stared at the man who had shared my bed, shared my life, owned my heart. Conversation swirled around us as we both stared at each other, as decisions were made, that I no longer cared about. No longer wanted to be party to. What had happened to our communication? Why had Spock

done this without my consent or my knowledge? Why?

As the briefing ended, the room began to empty. I saw Cartwright walk towards me. I wanted to wave him off but he stopped in front of me. "Congratulations, Jim. You have an historic opportunity ahead of you. It appears as though there are a number of advantages to being a Vulcan's bondmate."

"What are you trying to say, Sir." I was fed up with everything. Especially with Starfleet brass.

"Your personal dislike of the Klingons is well known, Jim. When Chancellor Gorkon specifically requested you to escort him, we assumed that you would automatically refuse the assignment. Fortunately, Spock's solution was brilliant. He used his status as your bondmate to volunteer you to escort the

Chancellor."

As I listened to Cartwright, my anger kept growing.

Cartwright left, and soon, Spock and I were alone.

"We volunteered?" The words were torn from me as I looked at my bondmate, standing at the podium, looking so serene, his hands clasped in front of him.

"There is an old Vulcan proverb; 'only Nixon could go to China'." Spock's voice was unruffled, as though those simple words could explain away everything that had happened today.

"How could you vouch for me? That's arrogant presumption!" There was no reason to hide the anger in my voice. The anger over the fact that he had used our status as bondmates to manipulate me.

"My father requested that I open negotiations--"

I stopped him. Enough was enough. "I know your father is the Vulcan ambassador for heaven's sake." There was contempt in my voice as I listened to Spock's weak attempt to justify what he had done by calling on his Vulcan heritage, his father's crusade to end all intolerance.

"But you know how I feel about this." My voice became softer, as I silently appealed to my bondmate; not to the Federation Special Envoy. "They're animals." I wanted Spock to drop his mental shields. I wanted him to sense my confusion. My anger at being manipulated. My concern at not being trusted. My worries of trusting the Klingons too much. My fear about our future. We were so close to wrapping up a glorious career; so close to finally spending some time together. Hadn't we earned it? Isn't that what he wanted? Why did he have to volunteer us? Wasn't there anybody else who could take this mission?

Spock's voice softened in response to my tone. "Jim. There is an historic opportunity here."

I stared at Spock, realizing with a sinking feeling that my darkest fears were materializing. I suddenly understood. He was ready to begin his new career as a diplomat. He would use me and the Enterprise to make a name for himself during the Klingon-Federation peace negotiations. Then, he would leave me on Earth while he went off on this new career.

In order to establish this new life, he was ready to trust the Klingons, risking everything that he and I had fought for in the last 27 years. "Don't believe them. Don't trust them." My words were a final plea. Trust me.

"They are dying." A voice asking for understanding.

"Let them die!" The words came out like a curse, expanding the gulf between us. "Has it occurred to you that this crew is due to stand down in 3 months?" I stared at Spock, trying to will the understanding of what he had just done to all of us. Or was it just to the two of us?

But as I looked into Spock's eyes, into the eyes of an ambassador, I saw the futility of my efforts. "We've done our bit for King and Country. You should have trusted me." There it was. Out. You should have trusted me. You should have told me what you were planning. And I wouldn't have looked like a damned fool in front of Cartwright and the C in C.

For a long moment, I stared at my bondmate across the table. Finally, I turned and left, alone. Entirely alone.

* * * * * * * * *

I sat on the edge of my bed, looking at the holo in my hands. McCoy had taken this shot, just a few days before the beginning of our last five-year mission. Spock and I looked so relaxed. So at ease with each other and the universe around us. What had happened?

Earlier that afternoon after the briefing, I had silenced McCoy's concerned look and offer to talk with a curt, "No thank-you, Doctor." I had known McCoy was hurt, but frankly, I hadn't been in the mood to share. I was hurting too. With practiced

ease, I had traced my way through the labyrinth of Starfleet Headquarters towards the nearest transporter room. I needed to be back on my ship.

With an efficiency born of fury, I proceeded to pack up Spock's belongings in order to move them personally to the VIP guest quarters. Why? I kept asking myself that question as I folded clothing and picked up data disks. Why hadn't Spock trusted me?

Why had he felt it necessary to manipulate me into this mission? Well, the answer was obvious. He didn't care enough about my personal preferences. He just wanted to use our relationship to move into his next chosen career.

I heard a loud crack. I looked down and saw the splintered crack across the old fashioned glass frame--another one of McCoy's gifts to us. I stared at it, stunned. Spock no longer trusted me. Why not? Was I, James Kirk, so old and so narrow minded that Spock would automatically assume that I could never lead a diplomatic mission involving the Klingons unless I was forced into it?

I sat there shocked. Had Spock forgotten who I was? That certainty, that infallible trust we had in one another, was gone. I didn't have Spock at my side anymore. Spock was only with me because he still needed the ship and her captain to complete this mission.

I remembered the look on Spock's face as he had been outlining the proposal today. Spock had looked so sure of himself, so confident and at ease. I could see the diplomat emerging in him. It was to be expected of course. Spock's life was just beginning. Mine was just ending. Spock didn't want to spend years in retirement with me. Foolish. I had been so

foolish. Why hadn't I seen it coming?

I rose up, placed the holo in my desk drawer, and finished packing up Spock's belongings. It was time I let Spock go. We would complete this mission together on the same ship, but afterwards, he had a new life waiting for him.

---finis--