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The universal translator was malfunctioning. Spock became aware of this fact on the bridge 4.5 hours into alpha shift when Jim said, “Spock, avons-nous des relevés de la surface de la planète?” Spock did not speak French, but after four years of serving with Jim, he was so accustomed to how Jim looked and sounded when he said certain things, that he understood the question as though it had been communicated in Standard or Vulcan.
But when Spock answered, what came out of his mouth was, “Tak, zdobyłem dane klimatyczne i odczyty geologiczne.”
Jim made a face and said, “Che diavolo sta succedendo adesso?”
Spock stood. “Я проведу расследование.”
“Salamat po,” Jim said, apparently understanding Spock.
It was usually Nyota who performed adjustments to the UT’s central system and database. Changes in idiom or the discovery of new vocabulary and languages necessitated frequent updates. However, Spock suspected the current issue was related to larger programming glitches or a virus, and therefore fell under his purview. He needed to deactivate the UT temporarily, and the crew would have to speak Federation Standard—to the extent possible—until it was fixed.
*&%#%!
Spock proceeded immediately to Engineering, where the UT’s central system and the ship’s mainframe computer were located. He sat at one of the computers and began to scan the system. Once he identified the virus that was the cause of the malfunction, Spock entered the commands to scrub the system. The virus, he hypothesized, had come from the planet they had visited three days earlier for diplomatic negotiations. The visit marked the fourth diplomatic event during which Jim had deviated from his usual pattern of engaging in sexual relations with a diplomat’s daughter or aide.
Spock clearly remembered the night, four months earlier, that had broken Jim’s pattern.
Events had proceeded in the typical sequence: the away team had beamed down, the requisite meetings had taken place, the diplomats had hosted the away team for dinner, and Jim had flirted unabashedly with the daughter of one of the diplomats. After the evening’s events, she accompanied Jim to his room, which was adjacent to Spock’s. The proceedings were audible, and Spock had to leave his room. Later, he had meditated, trying to regain control of his frayed mind. By morning, he had still not fully recovered, and Jim had noticed.
Since then, Spock had observed a shift in how Jim looked at him.
Spock had seen the look with enough frequency to know with absolute certainty what it was. Jim had the ability to turn it on at will when he wanted to seduce someone in a starbase bar or at a diplomatic dinner. It was a softening of his posture, an openness of expression that was an invitation. Whoever was subject to it would feel they were the only person in the room, even if the room was crowded with people. It was not unlike a tractor beam: once Jim turned it on, the focus of his attention would soon be in his bed. Spock was unable to process the fact that the tractor beam had recently been directed at him.
The virus scrubbing protocols completed, and the ding! from the computer pulled Spock from his thoughts. At that moment, Spock heard the computer room doors open, and he looked up to see Jim. The tractor beam was not presently on.
“Hey, shift’s been over for a couple hours already. How’s it going down here?”
“I believe I have remedied the issue,” Spock said. “I will reactivate the UT.”
“Awesome,” Jim said. “Want to eat?”
Spock did. He and Jim walked together to the turbolift, and then ate in the mess with McCoy, who had many opinions on the universal translator. “I don’t trust that thing,” he grumbled. “I never know what it’s doing to my words. Taking them apart, putting them back together again.”
“We had some fun times with everyone trying to communicate without the UT,” Jim said. “I guess a fight broke out in a Jefferies tube when Satine said he was going to throw a wrench at someone and then break their face.”
McCoy laughed. “At least no one ended up in sickbay.”
As a rule, the UT was accurate and reliable, but it showed fallibility in the areas of idiom and slang, which were constantly changing and which resisted the logic of algorithms designed to decipher meaning from contextual clues, especially when homonyms were involved. It was sometimes true that other methods, such as sentient translators, were necessary to communicate clearly.
After dinner, Jim said, “How about a game of chess?” and Spock agreed.
*&%#%!
Once the two of them were in Spock’s quarters, Jim removed his boots and overshirt, then knelt on the floor, stretching his arms out in front of him. Spock recognized the pose from certain schools of yoga. He sat at the chess board, watching Jim stretch.
Spock did not know when he had become so attracted to Jim. One day, it simply was. He had caught Jim’s eye or his smile, and he had felt his body respond. It was possible some elements of his attraction predated his breakup with Nyota. He could not be certain. But, since that time, it had been increasingly difficult to endure Jim’s liaisons. Jealousy was not logical because Spock did not have a bond with Jim, nor had they ever been physically intimate. Spock had nonetheless come to consider Jim his. They spent many of their waking hours together, even when not assigned the same duty shifts. They had saved one another’s lives numerous times, and they had shown exceptional mental compatibility, which had at first surprised Spock. When they had melded for information-sharing purposes on away missions gone awry, Spock had felt his mind reaching out to latch onto Jim’s. It had, each time, been painful to break away.
As Jim got up, he caught Spock watching him. The tractor beam came on as Jim sat at the table. Spock’s mind was in disarray whenever this happened. He and Jim were very different in the way they approached romantic relationships, and Spock felt keenly that he might not respond to the tractor beam in the way Jim expected or desired. Therefore, Spock willed himself to resist.
They began their game.
“What are your plans for the team tomorrow?” Jim asked.
“The UT malfunction interrupted my scan of the planet, but I believe I have gathered enough data to choose an appropriate beam-down location. I would like to collect plant specimens and seeds to send to the Interplanetary Seed Bank,” Spock said. “The planet is marginally habitable, and I believe some of the species may have adaptations of interest. Naturally, we will also collect soil and rock samples, though preliminary scans do not indicate the presence of dilithium or other minerals of economic importance.”
“What about other life sign readings?”
“Nothing that indicates danger, though, as you know, the readings may prove erroneous.”
“Not that I’m wishing for hostile indigenous species or anything, but it’s been a little slow lately.”
“You require regular infusions of adrenaline,” Spock observed.
Jim laughed. “Adrenaline and oxytocin, those are my governing hormones, I guess.”
Spock considered this an accurate statement. “You have been low on both.”
“Yeah,” Jim said. He gazed at Spock with a soft smile.
Spock looked away. He was in need of meditation. He was already losing the chess match because he was not in possession of his full faculties. Spock did not usually feel inadequate to tasks or experiences set before him, but relationships were one exception. His friendship with Jim had required him to challenge himself in the areas of communication and interaction—and his understanding of the meaning of friendship. Now their friendship seemed to be metamorphosing into something new, and Spock had not yet adjusted.
“Do you ever think about changing your mind and going to New Vulcan?”
“I do not,” Spock said. “I find my life with Starfleet intellectually and...” He searched for the word. “Personally rewarding.”
“Good,” Jim said. He sat forward in his chair, his demeanor relaxing. “I think about it a lot. I don’t want you to go.”
“Do not concern yourself,” Spock said.
Jim had turned off the tractor beam, allowing Spock to regain some focus. They played the rest of the match until Spock lost.
*&%#%!
Once Jim had returned to his quarters, Spock turned his mind to an issue that had been bothering him. The day’s incident with the UT had given him a possible solution.
Shortly after they had begun their sexual relationship, Nyota had told Spock that he was too “clinical” when talking about sex, and had offered some corrections. Spock did not wish to encounter the same difficulties with Jim.
Jim used words that Spock did not use—and had not even known until coming to Earth. On an early away mission, Jim had said, “It’s so cold here, my dick’s gonna fall off.” Sometimes, when irritated with the admiralty, and if there were no other crew besides Spock to hear him, he said, “He can suck my cock!” or “She can kiss my ass!” or “Why’s he such an asshole?” or “What a dickbag.” And, once: “They might as well bend me over the table and ream me.” Spock had deduced Jim’s meaning from context, and had recorded each usage in his memory, but these meanings did not necessarily apply during more intimate activities. The only example he had was what he had overheard during Jim’s liaison with the diplomat’s daughter. She had moaned almost continuously except when she uttered phrases such as, “Yeah, fuck me harder!” Spock did not wish for that event to be his only data point.
What Spock needed was to accumulate a substantial amount of sexual idiom in a short amount of time. He retrieved his personal UT device from his desk.
“Dick,” Spock said, asking the UT to translate to Vulcan as a test. Lok, the translator said, which was, essentially, correct, though not what Spock wanted. “Cock,” Spock said. Lok, the translator said again. It was not a failing in the programming, which accounted for variable meanings picked up through context in the more common Federation languages, but rather a characteristic of Vulcan language. “Lok,” Spock said. Penis, the UT said in Standard, without offering alternate words in the databank. This was not an effective tool for what Spock wanted to learn. Like any other discipline, such as math or particle physics, sex had its own vocabulary and terminology, and Spock had confidence he could master it if he applied himself.
Spock connected to the vast information database available on the ship and searched for the type of vid he wanted and which he knew to be there. The vids soon became repetitive, and watching hours of pornography was neither efficient nor desirable. Spock felt more aroused by Jim looking at him across the chess board than by watching the vids. It was perhaps a matter of mental connection, which Spock required. Instead of watching further, Spock downloaded the audio, then processed it to remove everything but identifiable spoken language and to eliminate duplicates (of which there were many). He had his computer transcribe the results, and he studied them until he had deciphered and memorized everything. He was satisfied with this approach.
*&%#%!
Spock, two other members of the science team, and two ensigns from security spent the day on the planet’s surface. Despite the planet’s aridity, many plant species thrived. Spock discovered several lichen-like formations in the acidic environment next to steaming vents in the rock. He was curious to know if they were composite organisms, like Earth lichens. He also found and collected a mineral that shone gold and rich brown on its newly fractured surfaces.
When they returned to the ship, beta shift was already well underway. Spock ate in the nearly empty mess with the other members of the away team, and then he returned to his quarters. He took off his dirt-covered uniform, removing the mineral specimen from his pocket before dropping the clothing into the laundry chute. He showered and put on clean clothes, leaving off the uniform overshirt. He had not seen Jim all day, and he desired to do so.
When he pressed the controls to exit his room, the door opened to reveal Jim with his hand at the comm, about to request entry.
“Hey,” Jim said.
“I was on my way to your quarters,” Spock said.
The tractor beam was on. Spock recalled that tractor beams had originally been called “attractor beams,” which he found appropriate in this case. He stepped aside to let Jim in.
The door shut.
“How’d it go today?” Jim asked as he bent to remove his shoes.
“We collected a substantial number of specimens, which we will catalogue in the coming days. I brought this for you,” Spock said, taking the mineral out of his pocket and handing it to Jim.
Jim took the rock and rubbed his thumb along its bumps, textures, and strata.
“It reminded me of you,” Spock added, feeling flustered.
“I like it,” Jim said. He slipped the rock into his pocket.
“Did anything of interest occur while I was away?” Spock asked, watching Jim walk over to his bed and flop down on his back.
Jim lay there, staring at the ceiling. “Nope. Boring as shit. I need some hand-to-hand combat and near-death experiences. Keeps life interesting.”
“I would prefer for you to avoid near-death experiences,” Spock said, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Jim. His heart raced uncontrollably in his side.
“Hey, do you remember that time you got sprayed with that weird pollen, and you couldn’t stop laughing?”
“That was an unfortunate incident.”
“It was nice to see you laugh,” Jim said. “I know it’s not very Vulcan.”
“Sometimes I do not feel very Vulcan.”
They looked at one another, and Spock felt the irresistible pull of the tractor beam, which seemed to be on its highest setting. Jim moved his hand until it was only inches from Spock, and then he curled his fingers, leaving only his index and middle fingers extended.
“At other times,” Spock said, “I am quite Vulcan.” He slowly reached out until his fingers met Jim’s. A jolt of current ran through him from the point of contact. It was arousing beyond calculation.
In silence, they moved their fingers, exploring one another’s hands, the soft flesh between fingers, the sensitive palms. Spock could feel all of Jim’s emotions, the strong desire, affection. Jim reached to touch Spock’s wrist.
“You’re so hot,” Jim said in a soft voice. “I can’t even deal with it.” He brought Spock’s hand toward his mouth and began to suck on the index finger. He rubbed his tongue against the fingertip.
Spock breathed in sharply from the stimulation, aware that his penis had become erect, and he was trembling. He watched Jim continue to suck on his finger. He had lost control of his respiration, his vision had clouded, and he was panting with need.
Jim sat up and held Spock’s face in his hands, placed a kiss on his mouth. “What do you want? Tell me.” He reached down and palmed Spock’s erection.
Spock attempted to order his mind enough to speak. It was important to communicate. “I want to rim your ass, then finger fuck you, then fill you up with my thick Vulcan cock and turn you into my come bucket.” Spock said. “And I would also like you to fuck my face. And I want to join minds while we do these things.”
Jim pulled back, and for 0.7 seconds, Spock thought he might have miscalculated his course of action, but then Jim burst out laughing. “Holy shit, where did you learn to talk like that? Fuck. You are so. HOT.” He pressed his mouth to Spock’s and kissed him, tongue seeking.
Breathlessly, between kisses, Spock said, “I processed audio from twenty-seven hours of pornography and taught myself all of the terms contained in it.”
“Oh my God. Take your clothes off. Holy shit.” Jim stood up and pulled off first his shirts and then his pants, socks, and briefs.
Spock obediently pulled off his shirt. As he shed his pants, he stared, taking in the parts of Jim he had never seen. He and Jim knew one another in so many ways. They had shared minds and spent hundreds of hours in conversation. They had worked side by side for the entirety of this mission, and Spock thought he had known much of what there was to know, but when he saw Jim this way, his penis hard and flush against his abdomen, desire written all over his body, it proved that Spock did not know much at all.
Jim fell to his knees in front of Spock. “Hey, Spock,” he said, “there’s a party in my mouth, and your dick is invited. Wanna come?”
“Yes,” Spock said. “I would like to come. I neglected to add that to my list.”
Jim laughed again.
Spock placed a finger on Jim’s lower lip, and Jim swiped it with his tongue before wrapping his hand around the base of Spock’s erection. He took the head of it into his mouth, running his tongue along the ridge. He focussed his attention there before taking more in. Spock was unable to stop watching as his penis appeared and disappeared with Jim’s movements. The sight of Jim on his knees, looking up, pupils dark, lips wet and pink, lit Spock’s insides on fire. Jim’s mouth descended further, until his face was up against Spock’s groin and Spock could feel the tight press of Jim’s throat. When Jim pulled off, everything was slick with saliva. He slid his lips along the length before taking it in his mouth again. He reached behind Spock’s testicles to stroke the sensitive skin of his perineum.
“I—” Spock said. He could no longer stand up.
Jim stood up and got on the bed. “Come up here.”
Spock lay beside him. Jim took Spock’s hand and placed it on his face, then reached between them to grasp Spock’s penis. He began to move his hand, and Spock tried to maintain his focus. “My mind to your mind,” he said, falling into Jim’s consciousness. He was aware of both Jim’s physical touch bringing him closer to orgasm, and his mental touch, which was bright and hot, vibrating with energy.
Show me what you want, Jim said.
Spock recalled his need the night he’d overheard Jim with the diplomat’s daughter. How he’d wanted to cover Jim’s body with his, thrust into him, bite his neck, his shoulders, his back, claim him and mark him, touch parts of him no one else had ever touched, until Jim belonged only to him.
Fuck, Jim said through their connection. I would have let you do it. You can do it now.
But Spock was already coiled tight, spilling over Jim’s fist, his hand falling away from Jim’s face, breaking the meld. As his body settled, he watched Jim bring his hand up to his mouth and lick it. Spock felt his body respond to the sight. He leaned in to kiss Jim.
“I can’t wait for you to fuck me like that. What else do you want to do?” Jim asked against Spock’s mouth.
“I want,” Spock said. He wanted many things. Jim kept kissing him. “I also like to see you laugh,” he said, finally. “You are very pleasing when you do so.”
Jim’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “Keep saying filthy things to me, then. It’s hilarious and hot, and I love it.” He lay on his back and bounced on the bed several times.
Spock let one of his hands drift down Jim’s chest, noting the few light brown hairs around his pink nipples, the hair that ran in a line from his navel downward—currently partially covered up by Jim’s erection, which lay flat against his abdomen—and then the flare of darker hair. Spock settled between Jim’s legs, thinking. Jim’s vocabulary did not come naturally to him. It was like speaking an alien language. However, he recalled a joke he had once overheard. “Do you know what planet I have not yet explored?”
Jim snorted with laughter. “I do! Say it!”
“Uranus,” Spock said, pronouncing it as dictated by the joke. He took Jim’s erection in his hand.
Jim stopped laughing and lifted his hips.
“I have never done this before,” Spock admitted. He could feel the thrum of excitement coming through the points of contact with Jim’s skin.
“I figured. I’m having fun, just so you know. You can’t mess up.” Jim moved his hips again. “Tell me what you’re going to do.”
“I am going to suck your dick,” Spock said. He heard Jim laugh, but he could not look because his attention was focussed on this part of Jim that he did not yet know.
“I thought you were going on an away mission to explore my anus,” Jim said. There was a hint of laughter in his voice still.
Spock transferred his attention to Jim’s face. He was not aware that Humans laughed so much during sex. It had never occurred to him that it might be considered fun.
He grasped Jim’s penis as he touched his lips to the soft head, explored with his mouth, kissing, licking, and tasting. He took his time, getting used to the new territory, how it felt to fit his lips around it, trying not to let his teeth make contact.
“Fuck,” Jim murmured, his hips beginning to move erratically.
Doing this required Spock’s concentration, and he realized that Jim’s skill with it must have come from a great deal of practice. He felt a flash of jealousy for everyone who had ever done this with Jim, and he focussed his attention on tongue and lips and suction, wanting to make Jim feel as good as he had felt. In a few minutes, he felt Jim tense beneath his hands, and a spurt of ejaculate filled his mouth. He swallowed. He had been led to believe (though with a limited data set) that he would not like the taste, but it did not bother him. He wondered if his was different. Jim had not seemed to mind it. It was a matter for future data collection.
Spock adjusted his position to lie on his side next to Jim.
Jim turned toward him and kissed him. “Are you going to send some of that to the Interplanetary Seed Bank?”
It took a moment for Spock to understand. “I have already swallowed all of it.”
“You’re my come bucket,” Jim said, laughing. Spock’s past self would never have imagined himself in bed with Jim, uttering profanity and jokes he did not consider humorous. His past self did not know that to say those things meant to see Jim laughing and relaxed. Jim bore responsibility for an entire ship and its crew. He often dealt with stressful and dangerous situations. But, here, in this moment, none of that was present. His inner light shone out, undimmed by external stressors.
“Do you always laugh this much during sexual activity?”
“No, only with you. I like talking to you. Are you cold? Do you want to get under the covers?”
“Have you not enjoyed talking to past partners?” Spock got up on his hands and knees and pulled the covers back. He climbed under and waited for Jim to settle beside him.
Jim touched a finger to Spock’s temple. “The brain is the biggest sex organ. It’s important.”
“I concur,” Spock said, then added, “My brain is intensely attracted to your brain.”
Jim laughed again. “Mine is to yours, too.” He leaned out of the bed and grabbed his pants off the floor. He felt around in his pockets until he found what he wanted. He placed the rock on the table next to the bed. “I don’t want to throw it in the laundry chute by accident,” he said.
*&%#%!
Spock spent his shift not on the bridge but in the science labs cataloguing and studying the samples he and the team had collected on the planet he had designated L-1547 (L-Class), according to the current nomenclature guidelines.
At 1637 hours, the doors to the lab opened, and Jim entered. “Hey,” he said. He came to stand beside Spock at the lab counter. “Want to go for a run with me before dinner?”
“That would be agreeable,” Spock said. “The specimens we collected have proven to be quite interesting. I plan to write up my findings for Starfleet’s central science database.”
“Can I have a look?” Jim asked, indicating the scope on the counter. He did not need permission. He often visited Spock in the lab to see what he was working on. Jim leaned over to peer through the lenses.
“I hypothesized that this specimen might be a composite organism similar to lichens on Earth, and, indeed, that is the case. One species provides the physical structure, while the other obtains and processes food for both of them.” The organism consisted of green and purple threads of color woven together into an intricate formation.
“It’s beautiful,” Jim said, straightening up. The tractor beam was not currently on, but in its place was something different, though not entirely dissimilar.
Spock’s heart thudded in his side. “I will continue my work tomorrow.” He switched off the light on the scope.
As they entered the turbolift to return to their quarters, Jim said, “I wouldn’t want you to change anything about yourself because you thought it was what I wanted.”
“To what are you referring?”
“You didn’t need to go through twenty-seven hours of porn. I would’ve been turned on listening to you talk about rocks.”
“I comprehend your meaning. What does not exist between two individuals cannot be created solely through words.” This, Spock realized, had been the issue with Nyota. It had not been a problem of language, but rather Spock’s inability or unwillingness to reveal his needs to her.
“You and I didn’t communicate that well when we met,” Jim said. “It’s like the UT—it’s not just what goes in, but what’s already in there. Some people don’t have the settings or the existing data set to receive and translate what’s in your mind. I guess, over time, we calibrated our settings.”
“In Vulcan culture, we call it compatibility of minds. It is necessary for a strong bond.”
The turbolift came to a stop, and the doors opened.
“I know what else is necessary for a strong bond,” Jim said as they exited the turbolift. There were people farther down the corridor, but he leaned close to Spock’s ear and whispered, “Hot pon farr sex where you bend me over and ream me with your massive Vulcan cock.”