Chapter Text
Jim had a headache, a hollow pain in the left side of his cranium, and every flicker of light, every noise, seemed to twist a screw just a little tighter into his brain, sending bright sparks of pain that ricocheted back and forth within his skull. He’d already taken more than his fair share of meds; anything heavier and he’d lose concentration, and taking more of what he had would threaten liver failure. So instead of doing what was reasonable, meaning putting himself to bed and being dead to the world for a good twelve hours, he toed the line and attempted to save both his sanity and his internal organs.
It was not going well so far.
Three days ago, after a grand total of six hours of sleep, he had developed a slight twitch in his left eye, that was only aggravated further by the pressure put on him by Starfleet to not fuck up. Very un-captainlike, in his opinion. Despite his desperate need for rest and heavy drinking, his next mission was assigned just as sanitation had finished cleaning blue and red blood off the walls. Two days ago, his constant wakefulness and attention had caused his back to start complaining, and sitting in the captain’s chair had just caused him to shift back and forth, trying to find a position that would give him just the smallest bit of relief.
Apparently the Elh, the humanoid species inhabiting planet EG-01, among others, were losing faith in the Federation, letting their eyes wander to other buyers of lithium crystals. “The Elh credit dropped a further 0.5% in just this cycle,” the president had droned through a translator, “we admit we are unsatisfied with this arrangement.”
And since his ship happened to land closest to their unhappy planet, it was his job to fix it. More specifically, it was his job to go to a banquet, lay on the charm, offer a compromise, and save their arrangement.
“Besides,” a higher up had briefed him, “isn’t the great endearing James T Kirk just the captain for this mission?”
Jim could admit when he was cornered in, and offered an affirmative.
His headache wasn’t going away. He slammed a cold glass of water and leaned back in his chair. Elh customs and etiquette, history, and slang was laid out in carefully organized folders, courtesy of Uhura. His eyes blurred, and thankfully his office door beeped. He pressed a button, and the door hissed open.
Spock entered the room, and stood, postured perfectly.
“You summoned me, captain.”
He pushed the files to the side, ignoring Spock’s brief curious glance at the folders.
“This banquet is imperative for the diplomatic stability between EG-01 and the Federation.”
“I have read the reports.”
“Good, so you know how much is at stake.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Spock wouldn’t ever say it, though Jim could see the slight eyebrow raise giving him away.
“You’re wondering why I asked you here.”
Spock did not respond.
“Spock, have a seat.” His commander sat, and he took a breath, leaning forward and folding his hands together. “I asked you here for a very specific reason. I want you to join McCoy and the others when they go out drinking for shore leave.”
If the situation weren’t so dire, and were his exhaustion less oppressive, the look of confusion, concern, and genuine fear that all travelled across Spock’s face for a moment would have been hilarious. He probably even would have laughed. He did not.
Spock managed not to stutter, “I admit I am… perplexed why you would ask this of me.”
“Yes, I understand. Spock, do you remember what happened the last time Chekov and Scotty went out on shore leave together?”
“I recall they started a skirmish with a group of Romulans.”
“Yes. And do you remember how Sulu acted once infected with that disease that scourged so quickly through our ship?”
“I recall he threatened crewmen shirtless with a sword.”
“Do you remember what happened when McCoy dosed himself with an accidental stimulant?”
“He went on a rampaged and caused a time shift that erased us from existence.”
Jim sighed.
“I have a bridge full of,” he paused, finding the right words, “unique personalities. In our line of work, that’s helpful. It’s certainly saved some lives, and gotten us out of more than one unusual situation. However, when unique personalities get together, especially under the influence of…”
“Mind altering substance?” Spock provided, and Kirk nodded.
“Yes. Mind altering substances, they can cause problems. We can show no weakness tonight, must make ourselves as attractive as possible. Every available man will be down on that planet creating business, spending credits, and nothing can be amiss. We need this planet to think they need us, and that means acting like perfect crewmen. We can’t let anything go wrong. One fight, arrest, or drunk and disorderly charge, and everything the Federation’s worked for will poof!” he made a little explosion with his hands, and to his slight horror, they held a slight tremor from his countless cups of coffee. “Be gone. We can’t have any slip ups.”
Spock gazed as him, his face in an impressive slackness, but with eyes that seemed to note Jim’s exhaustion. He didn’t let this distract him.
“You are asking me to keep Dr. McCoy and the others well behaved.”
“Yes.”
“I highly doubt my being there would have any influence.”
“Why Mr. Spock, you give yourself too little credit. I don’t believe there will be an incident, and if there is, then I feel you have the ability to stop the situation from getting out of hand. Either way, you’re not weaseling out of this one. I need everything to go perfectly, and someone with such Vulcan restraint would be a logical choice.”
Kirk knew Spock wouldn’t argue after that, and he forced his wobbly legs to push him up and out of the room. He gave his first officer a pat on the shoulder on his way out, and prayed to whatever might be out in the universe that he didn’t fall asleep at the dining table.