Satellites and Orbits

Since he inevitably lost these matches, save those that ended in stalemate, to most observers it seemed a futile endeavor, and aided in the general perception that Vulcans were not quite right in the head.

To Spock it seemed no stranger than spending hours playing Tetris, since one must, inevitably, lose every match one begins. The distinction was simply a matter of scoring.

Captain Kirk understood this well, being of a sort who preferred the measured complexity of chess to the deceptive simplicity of Tetris. But, unlike Spock, Kirk naturally preferred to play any game head-to-head, and if no chess set were available, a two-player Tetris match would do.

Fortunately there was an adequate supply of chess sets on the Enterprise. The first officer saw to that.

It could be said that captain and first officer had become friends over the chess set; at any rate this is what they themselves believed. Somehow chess led to conversation and conversation led to Discussions and Discussions led to heated passions, lost games and demands for rematches. Alternatively conversations might lead to flirtation, which led to distraction, which led to blown games and requests to be excused.

Whatever the outcome, they were never boring.

Kirk liked to win, of course. When he had time he would catch up on chess journals and study strategy. He also was a student of history and took the tactics of great generals as inspiration. Convinced that chess was as much a mental game as, well, anything else, he devoted his best effort into devising ways of gulling his opponent into a trap.

Spock, on the other hand, treated the chess game like a classic algorithm problem. While he played the computer he simultaneously attempted to attack the mathematical problem using the game before him as a conceptualization tool, and tested his program's ability to play the game.

The original, baseline program had used a brute-force method combined with a few simple rules to ensure that the computer never lost, but after that initial version had been perfected he had experimented with a wide variety of approaches. The "Deep Blue" team of yore would have been proud.

Kirk knew that a good deal of Spock's leisure hours were spent "playing" at chess. Spock's industriousness even at rest was a trait Kirk found charming. Lately, however, Kirk had been trying to encourage Spock to consider other leisure activities, of the two-player variety.

Kirk had experienced a change of thought regarding opponents and stratagems. It could not be said that they had exhausted each other's usefulness as opponents--for in fact Spock was astonishingly intelligent and Kirk could not hope to outclass him, only match him. Rather, they were no longer in a position to marshall their full resources against each other. Their lives were intricately interwoven, one might say bound . . .

It was not something Kirk exactly understood. Certainly, his memories of assuaging and riding out Spock's Fever were clear enough, and the certainty that he would be drawn to Spock in his next Time was a straight-forward matter. It was the ways in which the bond was changing every other aspect of his life that was only gradually becoming apparent.

As Kirk saw it, he and Spock were a team. An alliance, even. But this bond seemed to change the nature of their relationship, such that they were no longer two entities cooperating towards a shared set of goals, but rather one entity drawing on two different skillsets. Or to state the matter more crudely, you can't gull a Vulcan when he's reading your mind.

This made games rather futile. Kirk quickly discovered that he had counter-ammunition; concentrating on images that Spock found distracting for one reason or another proved highly disruptive, and the ordered chess game soon dissolved into anarchy.

Poor Spock. Kirk could clearly perceive that Spock was still trying to solve the problem of the chess game, and was convinced that Kirk had intuited some sort of high level algorithm, which explained his ability to win. Spock could not restrain himself from trying to gain insight on how Kirk played the game, and as Kirk's strategy relied more on psychology than mathematics, Spock's act of observation nullified it, leading to much frustration for both parties.

Kirk considered posting a sign in the rec room:

Note to physicists:
Please do not collapse wave functions in the Rec Room.
Thank you.
--Mgmt.

Kirk had come to the conclusion that they no longer had any choice but to both play on the same side, unless Spock perchance wanted to play for fun and restrained his need to analyze and therefore cheat. The loss of the chess matches weighed heavily on Kirk, however. Not only would he miss the conversation and companionship, he knew of how little off-duty social activity Spock partook and it was far from a salutary level, even for a Vulcan.

He had decided, given the logic of the situation, that the only fair thing to do would be to propose an alternate activity, one that allowed for interaction, competition, conversation and possibly Discussions and flirting. You can well guess which activity they had in mind. It was one which they had not hesitated to enjoy in the past, albeit on an irregular basis.

Spock had been somewhat diffident about it after the pon farr and Kirk, for his part, being far less certain of his standing after the entire Vulcan incident than before it, chose not to press the matter. At any rate sex had been only an occasional thing, so why get greedy?

The more thought Kirk gave to the matter, however, the less sense his decision made. Just as Spock had no future without him, so he had no future without Spock. And if he was with Spock, then Spock was the one he was with.

Kirk enjoyed this kind of logic, however much it made Spock cringe. For Spock's benefit, however, it was necessary to state one's case in Vulcan logic, which could have been reverse Polish logic for all Kirk cared, but he could pull some out of his back pocket when called upon.

So Kirk boiled down the proposition to this:

They were bonded
They were both sexual beings
There is only one path

Kirk was confident that Spock would respond well to this logic as he could well see the wastefulness and harm in the one entity, the bonded pair, attempting to function as two entities with different schedules and priorities.

There would be no separation. There was only one path, one worldline proceeding forward in time from the Bonding.

It so happened that Kirk finally figured it all out not while Spock was pulling extra shifts in the lab or compiling monthly reports, but during the middle of one of his chess marathons with the computer. Kirk found the coincidence most appropriate.

Spock would later opine that it was not a coincidence at all. He seemed entirely unsurprised when Kirk came into the rec room and approached him.

Kirk's enthusiasm was more intense than expected; it distracted him from the game. The warmth of Kirk's mind had slid up right next to him and stayed there, causing a remarkably pleasant sensation even though they sat a respectful distance apart.

Spock proceeded quickly with the match until he reached a stalemate. He was conscious of Kirk observing him both from the outside and inside.

Kirk felt vindicated by their easy merging, the soft flow of minds no longer separated; an almost-physical sensation of touch.

Kirk propped his chin on his hands and said, "A penny for your thoughts?"

Naturally, Spock's first thought was whether he could exploit the use of this idiomatic phrase to demand a specimen of antique coinage from Kirk.

He would have voiced this thought, but he was aware that Kirk had perceived it, and was smiling at it.

Spock did not find this unpleasant, but it was apparent that their mode of interaction would have to change. Their conversation had been like two gears with interlocking cogs turning smoothly, but now their thoughts bled into each other like dye in a basin of water.

"Jim," Spock said, because he liked to say the name, "I have been contemplating Earth's moon."

"What about it? Are you thinking about how it's wasted on us illogical humans? Or maybe you were scheming to use it as a galactic bowling ball?" Kirk knew this was rather lame, but the comment had been unexpected and therefore he hadn't had any witty comebacks prepared.

Spock was quite tolerant of the lapse, brightening at being drawn into a more familiar conversational pattern.

"Not at all. Rather, I was thinking about the past."

"Tell me."

Spock steepled his fingers before him. "As you know, the planet Vulcan has no moon. When I was young, Earth's moon was one of its most exotic and intriguing features."

Spock paused, and sat back in his chair. Kirk was hunched over the table leaning towards him, listening--and not only with his physical senses.

"I came to Earth to stay when I enrolled at Starfleet Academy. I became familiar with moon cycles and quickly decided to research the subject. I learned how to predict lunar cycles, moon rise and fall, and tides."

Spock felt that amusement from Jim as quickly as he saw it on his face.

"I was a bit of a junior astronomer too, once, but I never had much truck with tides." His eyes gleamed. "Landlubber," he explained.

Spock's eyes narrowed. "As I recall, your place of origin is a land-locked state . . ."

"We have a better sea, the prairie. Have you ever seen it? The wind whips through the grasses and they look like the crests of waves in the sunlight."

"I have seen pictures," Spock said slowly, with some regret.

"Some day I'll show you." This reminded Kirk of the ultimate purpose of the conversation. But why the moon? "Let me guess what happened: when you came to the International Astronomical Union with your brilliant and useful charts, they explained to you that not only did they already have them but they have schedules of eclipses for thousands of years in every direction, and comets, and meteor showers, and the precession of the Earth . . ."

"I did not find it any more redundant than any other educational exercise," Spock gently chided. He shifted his fingers in front of him as he came to the point. "After some months of moon watching it occurred to me that the moon was in some measure responsible for your species' quick ascension to the stars. Your species has barely ten thousand years of agriculture, and even less history."

"Short compared to whom? I think you're making a meaningless distinction; each species is unique. But," Kirk put out his hand for reassurance, "tell me your reasons."

Spock inclined his head in acceptance of the concession. "From the Earth, the Moon is the most proximate of heavenly objects. Its geographic features can be discerned by the naked eye. When one looks upon it, one's thoughts turn ever to space. It is close, not within the reach of the stature of man, and yet, with some relatively basic physics at one's command, quite attainable.

"Vulcan has no moon. There is no point from which to turn one's meditations beyond Vulcan; we are quite insular. And for some four hundred centuries we were at war with each other."

Kirk found the picture of a young Spock philosophizing about the Moon rather amusing and cute, but he was quite certain that his sensation of rapport just a short while earlier pointed to other thoughts. Something was missing. "Is that all?"

"No." Spock shifted his lanky form. "In the lives of planets, some satellites are formed in the stellar cloud along with the body they orbit, and sometimes one heavenly body captures another and they are locked into orbit. From then on, their worldlines run in tandem."

"Yes," Kirk hissed, all his thoughts rushing into Spock. At last they completely understood each other.

Spock closed his eyes against the onslaught. At last he regained his composure. "We are not alone, but we have not merged. We are like two bodies in orbit. Not contiguous but ever within reach."

"Spock, it's a nice metaphor. But there's a problem. I am not a lifeless ball of rock. And neither are you."

"Indeed. It surprises me that you have not already taken the chance to make a pun on ti--"

"--tidal forces?" Kirk grinned broadly. "I'll guess we'll have to get used finishing each other's sentences--or thoughts, before we have a chance to-- No wonder Vulcans are so quiet all the time."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

Kirk picked up again, seriously. "I came here to tell you that I know of a better game that chess."

"Yes, I know. I-- sensed your thoughts. You are quite correct about how things stand between us."

The free-flowing warmth had been replaced by that same diffidence, Kirk noted; he could feel Spock closing up. This time he would not be daunted. "Can we discuss this privately?"

Spock replaced the chessboard and they left the recreation hall for the officer's deck.

Without conscious thought they gravitated towards Spock's quarters. Kirk supposed it was because Spock kept the environmental controls set to a higher temperature.

By the time they were inside, Kirk already knew the reason for Spock's avoidance of sexual contact. His fear for Kirk's well-being and his guilt at being the agent of his death formed a knot of negative emotion which Spock wished to simply avoid. A shallow reason, but perhaps not as bad as any, but there was something else.

Spock cupped Kirk's face in his hands to deepen the meld. //We cannot merge. There must be balance. Jim, I do not wish to cause harm.//

//To whom would you be causing harm? I haven't been harmed.//

//To both of us, potentially, should we fail to strike the proper balance.// Laid before them was Spock's incomplete understanding of bondings. //We have much to learn from each other. Much to gain from our different ways.//

//Then perhaps your moon metaphor is not entirely misplaced.// Kirk visualized the two of them on the same side of the table before a great three-D chess set and a computer terminal on the other side. //Look,// Kirk said, and squeezed Spock's hand in the illusion. //We're on the same side. But ...//

//We are not the same. We remain different--by holding something back.//

//No! I don't want you to hold anything back.//

//What you want does not seem possible--Jim.// Spock broke the meld.

"In ancient times the moon was a symbol of mystery. It waxed and waned, died and was reborn." Kirk began to pace. "What we need is a cycle--a pattern--a schedule--do you see? It's not a matter of having to hold yourself back--that's just--cutting yourself off from life. You strike a balance by not giving it all away all the time. I think you're afraid of the uncertainty, but this way, you take control of it."

"That sounds entirely too simplistic."

"So is the universal law of gravity. I haven't heard you complain about that."

"That is simple; I said simplistic. The distinction--"

"Spock, Spock! Try to see it from my point of view. Here I am, going along through life and I meet this man--brilliant, but a bit difficult--and they make him my first officer, and I have to work with him day in and day out. And lo and behold we become good friends and I discover a loving, compassionate, gentle soul behind all that pragmatism and logic. I fell in love with that man. I've never met anyone like you before. You're everything I never knew I wanted. Well, then I find out that you're married, and just as quickly you're not and I'm getting sodomized by a horny Vulcan who's so out of it he can't even remember his own name, and then ever since then--well. You never write, you never call.

"Spock, bingeing and abstaining isn't going to make either of us happy. Sometimes I almost wish we could go back to the way it was before."

"You miss those encounters."

"You were very . . . sweet, in bed."

"By that I suppose you mean inexperienced and unimaginative."

"Spock," Kirk said fondly, with a mild exasperation. "Just set a schedule. Set up the dates and times, and the rest of the week you leave it alone and concentrate on other things."

"And you will not feel the need to subvert this schedule? To 'shake things up'? I find that humans have an illogical aversion to exercising any control over their sexuality."

Kirk conceded that it was a fair question. He thought about it for a bit, and said "As a practical matter, I am human. I think we can both agree on that. But we couldn't have both risen to positions of responsibility within this organization if we hadn't taken to discipline and military schedules. I'm asking you, perhaps, to make a leap of faith. I don't know that we have any other choice. I do think there's no reason we can't make this bonding as pleasant and productive as possible. I'm asking you to trust me, Spock. Will you trust me?" He held out his hand. "We can make this marriage work."

A warm, dry hand gently enfolded his own.
It was well known on the Enterprise that Spock was the captain's darling. When they were seen, it was, likely as not, together.

Together they kept the ship running smoothly, and their combined talents played no small part in the Enterprise's reputation for success. The crew, who trusted their lives to them, loved them.