Archive of Our Own

Friendships, Spock’s mother had explained with great patience long ago, relied on the identification and exploitation of common interests and life experiences. Friendships are logically desirable, in that, along with his nascent relationship with Nyota, they should go some way towards alleviating the discomfort and distraction he still suffers as a result of the myriad subtle psychic bonds severed when Vulcan died. Spock, therefore, employs one point six hours soon after reactivating his commission to join the Enterprise on its five-year mission in reviewing the full crew manifest and the public portions of the relevant personnel files in order to identify his most logical friendship targets. The captain’s placement on the short-list cannot be avoided, owing to the intelligence provided by Spock’s elderly counterpart, but Spock has found present within himself a desire to identify and engage friends he has chosen independently of any advice from time-travellers. He rates 54 individuals as possibilities, 33 as probabilities. He short-lists only four, so that he may devote sufficient time to each during the initial phase of attempting to instigate friendly relations.

In the space of one week, Spock successfully invites Captain Kirk to join him for a game of three-dimensional chess in the recreation room (Kirk very nearly manages to force a stalemate, and Spock is moved to raise an eyebrow in surprise), unsuccessfully invites Doctor McCoy to discuss astronomical phenomena with him on the observation deck (“I’m a doctor! What makes you think I have time for, well, that?”), engages Lieutenant Yangikskslbx in a brief but satisfactory conversation on the merits of her newly blue-dyed flagella for attracting mates, and is the recipient of Ensign Chekov’s warmest smile after agreeing to evaluate the hypothetical course he has plotted (“is only a hobby, Commander, but it is good mental exercise, I think?”) for most efficiently exploring all the remaining uncharted regions of their galaxy non-stop. Spock considers a 75% success rate for his initial overtures an entirely adequate beginning to Project Friendship.

During week two, Spock enjoys a second game of chess with the captain (“call me Jim”). This time they play in Jim’s quarters, and the human imbibes alcohol during the game. Despite his opponent’s attempts to diminish his own playing capacity, Spock loses, and has difficulty concealing his dismay at his failure until it registers that Jim has very much enjoyed the game, and that with typical human illogic he is more likely to wish to play again in future if Spock does not routinely trounce him.

Lieutenant Yangikskslbx agrees to join him in the recreation room so that they may introduce each other to the traditional music of their respective worlds.

Ensign Chekov accepts Spock’s invitation to sit at his table in the mess for breakfast, where he expounds upon his fascinatingly subversive view of Russian history.

Doctor McCoy regrets that the pressures of work prevent him from agreeing to Spock’s proposal of a card game.

Week three of Project Friendship sees Spock beat Jim handily at chess, debate moral philosophy at some length with Yangikskslbx, embark upon a debate over ideal methods of teaching children higher mathematics with Ensign Chekov (which Spock suspects may inform the textbook he has reason to believe the navigator is writing), and manage to engage Doctor McCoy in a brief discussion of the phenomenon of homesickness before they are each obliged by the yellow alert klaxon to be elsewhere. Spock permits himself to feel pleased with his friendly accomplishments this week.

Certain events occur during week four which Spock believes may be indicative of some hitherto unsuspected design flaw in Project Friendship.

Lieutenant Sulu’s normally cheerful and open facial expressions tend now to depart in favour of cold passivity when he sees Spock.

Yangikskslbx is not in uniform when Spock arrives for their appointment to explore games based on the syllabic nucleus of the Vulcan language, and Spock does not understand her sudden broadcast of displeased emotion when he remarks that he will wait outside her quarters until she has dressed.

Jim keeps kicking Spock’s feet under the table during their game. As a distraction tactic, it is surprisingly effective.

Nurse Chapel seems to believe that Spock’s attentions towards Doctor McCoy are in some fashion sinister, because she requests permission to speak freely and subsequently assures Spock that she knows the average strength of Vulcan bone and would require only simple mechanical aid in order to fracture both his femurs, were she motivated to do so by any damage to her friend Leonard. Spock, somewhat nonplussed, assures her shortly that he has no intention of causing harm to any member of the crew.

Week five arrives.

Yangikskslbx is not speaking to him and illogically insists he knows why.

Jim has requested a temporary exchange of wrestling for chess as their shared pursuit, despite the fact that Spock’s Vulcan strength puts Jim at a considerable disadvantage.

Ensign Chekov wishes Spock to edit and proof-read his manuscript, and in order to do a creditable job Spock is obliged to set aside several hundred of his off-duty hours in the coming months so that he may learn Russian. Spock understands this, however, to be a noble sacrifice in the service of friendship, and knowledge, of course, is rewarding in its own right.

Doctor McCoy finally joins Spock for a meal in the mess, but their conversation is stilted, the atmosphere strained. The high point of the event comes when Spock implies that someone on the medical staff has warned him not to harm their leader. McCoy’s smile at this is warm and bright, and, when the smile is quickly hidden behind a coffee mug, the muscles around McCoy’s eyes remain crinkled in a way characteristic of amusement or pleasure. Spock feels an inexplicable sense of accomplishment.

Week six is hazardous for the landing party’s health. Spock finds himself in sickbay with injuries too minor to risk a healing trance but too severe for regulations (and human medical practitioners) to permit his return to duty. In the next bio-bed, Jim is comatose with somewhat more extensive injuries. Doctor McCoy, Spock finds, is apt to perch himself on the bed by Spock’s feet so that he has a good view of his captain, and then to launch into the topic of their reason for sojourning here. By the third time he does this, he no longer lectures but actually invites response.

“I hear he was being heroic again,” McCoy says, with a sigh.

“Your information is accurate,” Spock allows.

“And if he hadn’t, people would have died?”

“It is very probable.”

“Typical.”

“It is highly irregular for a starship captain to lead landing parties habitually. I have been unable to persuade him on even one occasion to permit me to accept the brunt of the risk, however.”

“Mule stubborn, that one. Might as well save your breath.”

Spock believes they are in accord. McCoy pats his blanket-draped leg and advises him to “catch some shut-eye” before departing to resume his silent stalking of the medical bay and his charges.

Ensign Chekov visits Spock in sickbay after his shift. Long-range sensors have detected some kind of anomaly, and there is apparently a ship-wide betting pool as to its nature. Chekov hands Spock a padd, motions with a finger to his lips that this is secret, and skulks away again. Spock finds the padd merely contains all the relevant sensor data, along with the information for submitting guesses to the betting pool and the instruction that no one is to tell “that spoilsport Spock, he’ll only shut us down”. Spock resolves instead to win the contest.

Yangikskslbx does not visit. She does, however, send a painfully garish illustrated electronic greeting card with the instruction to “Get Well Soon!” Spock is unsure whether this sentiment is disingenuous.

Week seven sees Spock back on duty as Acting Captain while Jim continues to recuperate and protest to all who will listen that he does not need to recuperate. They break orbit, and Spock has Chekov plot a course which will take them close by the anomaly.

Spock wins four hundred credits and a supply of home-made alcoholic beverages which all evidence suggests have been illegally brewed on board. Jim recommends he throw a party to dispose of the unwanted intoxicants. Spock does not agree that “it’ll be awesome fun, man!”, but the plan does have the likely merit of improving crew morale and assuaging any hurt feelings which may have resulted from the gambling pool being won by the one person who was not supposed to have been told of its existence. Spock therefore allows Jim and Nyota to take responsibility for planning and executing a loud human party. Spock’s duty, they agree, is merely to put in an appearance.

Which is how Spock winds up sharing the darkest corner of the main recreation hall with Doctor McCoy, who likewise seems unimpressed with the din, the chaos, the bright flashing lights, and the inebriated humans on display in various states of debauchery all around.

“This was Jim’s idea, wasn’t it?” McCoy shouts. “I smell him all over it.”

The culprit in question, still pale and limping, is currently enjoying a tabletop dance being performed by several drunken engineers, the most senior of whom is clad only in a pair of boxer shorts which appear to be emblazoned with the likeness of the Enterprise. “It was indeed.”

McCoy looks at him, makes an incomprehensible gesture with his tumbler. “You wanna get out of here?”

Spock does.

They visit the officers’ mess, which is empty but for staff quietly preparing for the influx of patrons for beta shift’s lunch period. McCoy finishes his drink, and then they both obtain hot tea from the drinks machine. They talk, about Jim’s tendency towards recklessness resulting in physical injury, about a paper McCoy is considering writing for one of the major medical journals, about certain difficulties Spock has had in managing some of the more illogical among his staff. McCoy’s language remains colourful, and his observations are often snide and uncharitable, but Spock finds him a useful source of information and insight nonetheless.

“I would like us to be friends, Doctor,” Spock says quickly, when McCoy has risen and appears to be preparing to depart.

McCoy reaches out, gently squeezes Spock’s upper arm. “You got it,” he says. “Just so long as you don’t expect me to turn into a model of politeness and patience and tact. Or into a—well, into a Vulcan.”

“Such an expectation would be most illogical.”

McCoy’s eyebrows go up. “You’re telling me.”

That remark being utterly pointless, Spock has difficulty formulating a response for it.

McCoy smiles. “Night, Spock. See you tomorrow.” And he strolls out of the mess, whistling quietly as he goes.

Spock finds he is grateful for the captain’s insistence on a party after all.