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‘Captain’s log, personal. Star date 2913.8. I am a broken man.’

‘No. Computer, erase. ‘

‘Captain’s log, personal. Star date 2913.8.’ Jim starts again. His voice is quiet, but still it seems to bounce from the walls of his rooms. He leans his head heavily on his hands, and tugs his own hair as in desperation.

I have committed a despicable act against my own personnel. Let this serve as my confession, and my will to the next captain of the Enterprise. First, I swear I record this in full health, and I am fully aware of the consequences of my actions. Second, I must emphasize that for was has happened, I alone am responsible. I acted alone and without accomplice.’

Jim reaches out to a glass of water, and takes a small sip. Even the cold water burns his throat, and feels like acid in his stomach. For a fleeting moment he thinks he has poisoned himself. Could he do that? But since no real symptoms presented themselves, Jim assumes he is still alive and healthy. Fuck.

‘I’ve…. A week ago there was a Thanksgiving celebration on The Enterprise. The crew gathered to the various recreational areas for the festivities. Good food, music, fun and games. Many drank, I among the many. I danced with the crewmen. Some people exchanged gifts. It was a nice event. I hope that the future captain of the Enterprise will make the celebration a tradition. Just don’t let Scotty or Chekov prepare the punch, okay? They think punch translates to “a bowl of alcohol and a strawberry”.

Apologies, I ramble. It is difficult to… ‘

At this point Jim takes another gulp of water. His voice is almost a whisper now. He curses, and once again tells the computer to delete the last paragraph.

After a celebration last week I asked Mr. Spock to join me in my rooms for a nightcap. He tried to pass, but I promised I’d let him beat my ass in chess. He came in around 8 pm. I fixed a drink for myself, and he took non-caffeinated herbal tea. We played one round, which he won in a matter of minutes. I prepared the next cup of tea for him.’

If anyone would listen to the recording, they would then hear muffled sounds, like someone sobbing quietly. After a short while the recording continues.

I had recently found an … item I thought I had destroyed. It was a flower, a light red thing from Omicron Ceti III. The plants’ pollen includes a drug-like substance, which also protects from the lethal radiation. Mr. Spock was influenced by the pollen when we visited Omicron Ceti III. It made him happy, relaxed, and joyful. He was so beautiful then! But this all has been recorded in the official logs.

So, after the first chess game, I replicated tea for Spock. And I sprinkled the pollen to his tea. He drank it without any questions.

Within minutes his stern gaze relaxed. He started joking, and even smiled at me. He started making up new rules to chess, and laughed as his king mounted the horse and galloped around the chess board. His bishop then resigned and married the queen, and they moved together to my desk drawer. ‘

A quiet scraping sound, as Kirk opens his drawer and pulls out two chess pieces. He places them on the table in front of him, sighs and continues.

Spock’s eyes gleamed. He was so happy! He told me about his childhood at T’Khasi, the planet we know as Vulcan. He told me about the colors of the planet, of the fiery reds, warm oranges and all shades of yellow and brown one can think of. Spock said he still sometimes felt the heat of the Vulcan sun on his face, and that he dislikes the color blue because it makes him feel cold.

Jim stops talking. It hurts to remember how Spock looked like that evening. He had spoken so eloquently that Jim too had felt the hot breezes and the scorching ground under his feet. Spock had spoken like never before. His eyes, his words, his voice had been so full of emotions! Jim remembers how Spock had stood up and recited old Vulcan poetry in his own native language. Jim hadn’t understood it, but he had been enthralled by Spock’s voice and sheer presence.

Feeling angry at himself Jim wipes away a tear. He has no excuses, and there are no reasons for long explanations.

Spock didn’t resist when I suddenly walked up to him and kissed him. He was surprised, so I whispered sweet nothings to encourage him.’

Nothings? Had they really been sweet nothings, or had Jim meant what he had said? Jim shakes his head. It makes no difference now, not anymore.

‘I kissed him and held him close to me, until he began to respond to my affections. I lead Mr. Spock to my bed, and he sat down on it. I removed his uniform shirt. I did not ask for his permission, and had he not been drugged, I’m sure he would have rejected me. But I had drugged him, intentionally and deliberately. So I undressed him, and pressed him down on the bed. He lay there, naked, and still he was smiling! He was so beautiful, his skin sparkling in the light, his eyes dreamy and his muscles relaxed, like those of a cat in a ray of sun. He was a true Vulcan lord: noble, handsome and lithe.’

Jim’s voice is now filled with pain. It’s not physical pain, but pain of the mind, the sharp, searing pain of shame. He feels a knot in his stomach. His fingers are cold and shaking, and the chess pieces fall over as he tries to pick them up.  But he has a task to do. He has to finish his testimony. The Enterprise is already on its way to the nearest starbase, where Jim will give his confession to the authorities and resign. He glances at the packed suitcase by the door. He is ready to leave. Ready but for one thing. His confession.

‘I undressed myself. I stepped on the bed, and … and I … I made love to Spock. No, I raped him. He was nearly delirious by that time. For unknown reasons the pollen had affected him stronger than it did on Ceti III. I do not know if he recognized me, or understood what was happening. I raped Spock that night, several times. I penetrated him, and later performed oral sex on him. I didn’t use force – his intoxication made him heedless and stripped him of his logic and senses. He couldn’t resist me. I believe that even if he hated me in his mind, loathed me the whole time, he was not able to control his body enough to protest.

I do not know if the was conscious the whole time, probably not. He bled a little. His blood is green, and it clots faster than ours. His blood stained my sheets, so I destroyed them to get rid of the evidence. But that I did only the next day. When he … when he came to, I made some lame excuses as to why he was at my rooms. He was shaken, but I couldn’t tell him the truth. I just couldn’t.’

Jim cries now. He hadn’t cried when his brother had died, or when his colleagues had been killed in action. He hadn’t cried when he had been betrayed by his own crew.  But he cried now. The sobs shake him, and his shoulders tremble like those of an old, weak man. He wipes the chess pieces on the floor and bangs the desk with his fists. Obediently the ship computer records everything.

‘This is my confession. I have poisoned, raped and betrayed a crewman and a friend. I drugged and raped Mr. Spock. I will resign from my duties as a starship captain, and accept my expulsion from the Starfleet and any judgment which is passed upon me. I do not ask for forgiveness: what I’ve done cannot be forgiven. But I do wish to recommend Mr. Spock as the next captain of the Enterprise. He is the best the Starfleet has.’

The recording ends in violent sobs and muffled wails. If one would listen to the recording very carefully, they could make out a desperate plea, almost a mantra, as the broken Kirk repeats over and over again:

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry….’

 ***

The next morning yeoman finds Jim asleep at his desk. Gently she wakes up the captain to inform him that the Enterprise will land on Vulcan within five hours. Jim rubs his face.

‘Vulcan, yeoman? My orders were to head to the nearest Starbase with enough resident high command members to conduct an official hearing.’

‘Yes Sir. The nearest one is in Vulcan, Sir. Starbase 15 currently has no resident high command members, and according to Mr. Spock, the Vulcans are willing to conduct a hearing on a short notice. ‘

The yeoman is young and beautiful, like they almost always are. Jim has earlier suspected that an old friend of his is responsible for assigning the prettiest ones to him as a humorous reminder of Jim’s wild years at the Academy. But for now he has no eye for beauty. He will be judged on Vulcan. It feels right and appropriate, although his already heavy heart grows heavier still.

‘Of course. Thank you yeoman, and thank you for the breakfast. Smells delicious!’

Jim smiles and sniffs at the steam rising from the bowl which the yeoman is offering to him. He has no appetite, but he can’t go on the hot desert planet and faint due to low blood sugar. There are raisins in the porridge. Jim stares at them even after the yeoman has left. Raisins, spread around like planets, and about to be devoured by a creature beyond their comprehension. Jim doesn’t stop to think whether raisins comprehend anything. His entire world has been incomprehensible for a while, now. He eats.

Spock and McCoy accompany Jim to the transporter room. McCoy keeps asking what the trial will be about, but Jim simply explains it has to do with the career paths of the Enterprise personnel, and that he needs official juridical advice to make his decisions. McCoy is nervous and worried. He keeps insisting Jim is in no shape to leave the ship, let alone participate a hearing. But Jim is by now an experienced actor. He dons an imaginary cape of self-assurance, and carefully arranges a smile on his face.

‘Come now, Bones, this is really a routine thing. We’ll be back before you know it! Meanwhile, could you prepare a summary report on the crew health and the status of the sickbay and related labs? It’s for the new cap-‘

Jim stops himself just in time, and corrects:  

‘We can restock while on Vulcan, but only if we know what’s needed.’

Mr. Spock steps on the transporter, and Jim follows him. Suddenly Bones sees Jim’s old, battered suitcase.

‘Jim! What’s the bag for? You’re not going to take a vacation, are you? Dammit, man, what’s going on?’

‘For the souvenirs, Bones, for the souvenirs. I’ll see if I can find any Vulcan port for you. But not a drop before the report is finished!’

Now Jim actually laughs. Bones is a good man, he’ll serve Spock well. The two have their occasional bickerings, but Jim knows the Enterprise will be in good hands. He clutches his bag when the sizzling and whining of the transporter starts.

***

The hearing is arranged in a small hall. Mr. Spock accompanies Jim to the court, resolute and silent, with no questions asked. Jim is not surprised to see T’Pau at the head of the jury, so he pays his usual respects and bows even deeper than is necessary. He feels calmer already. Soon it will be over! Spock sits at the audience – there are no other people present. This at least is of some comfort to Jim.

T’Pau strikes at the golden bell in front of her three times. The court is now in session.

Jim identifies himself, and a record of his status and merits is played from a computer record. As the list of his honors goes on and on Jim feels the weight of his responsibilities heavy on his shoulders. He has disgraced all those merits, and all they stand for. What’s worse, he has disgraced Spock. Jim cannot bear to look at Spock when it’s time for him to stand up and present his case.

 ‘Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Due to the personal and sensitive nature of the case, I ask that all the logs and evidence concerning this case is held absolutely secret for the standard period of 10 years. May the jury grant me this wish?’

T’Pau nods curtly, and the computer drones a confirmation.

‘I will now present to you as evidence my own confession.’

Jim delivers a fiery red memory disk to the court assistant, who inserts it to the computer. Soon a familiar voice flows from the hidden audio system.

‘Captain’s log, personal. Star date 2913.8. I swear I record this in full health, and I am fully aware of the consequences of my actions. A week ago there was a Thanksgiving celebration on The Enterprise. The crew gathered to the various recreational areas for the festivities. Good food, music, fun and games. Some people exchanged gifts. It was a nice event. I hope that the future captain of the Enterprise will make the celebration a tradition.’

There is a pause in the recording. Jim stands still, his jaw considerably much closer to the floor than a minute ago. He’s sure he said more than that, didn’t he?

‘’I had recently found an … item I thought I had destroyed. It was a flower, a light red thing from Omicron Ceti III.  The plants’ pollen includes a drug-like substance, which also protects from the lethal radiation. This is my confession. I do wish to recommend Mr. Spock. He is the best the Starfleet has.’

‘Recording ends,'  droned the computer. Jim’s feet give out, and he slumps on the chair. His mind is empty. He feels the burning eyes of the jury staring at him, until the silence is broken by a guffaw. One of the judges chuckles, then bursts out in loud laugh. Jim cannot understand, he tries to stutter an explanation, but his voice is drowned in the laughter.

T’Pau stays stern, although Jim thinks he sees a glint in her eye.

‘Well now, captain Kirk. You have found a flower. You will submit it for further scientific analysis to the Starfleet specialists. As for the celebration, each captain is responsible for the events held in their ship, as you are well aware. Your recommendation for Mr. Spock is duly noted.’

The other judges smile in amusement.

‘Captain Kirk,’ speaks an elderly commander of the Starfleet, ‘your conscientiousness is commendable. But a late report on this plant species and its qualities hardly is a cause for an official hearing. Neither is your casual attitude at parties aboard the Enterprise. Now what it was that you really needed us for?’

Jim cannot speak. What has just happened? His recording, his personal log, why was it…

…his personal log… encrypted, hidden, but technically at the common ship’s computer….

Slowly but certainly, like a planet rotating around its axis, Jim turns his head towards Spock.

‘Kirk?’ repeats the older councilman.

Spock responds to Jim’s gaze by raising an eyebrow and blinking his eyes. Jim can see the corners of Spock’s mouth twitching.

He knows! He edited the log! He knows it all!

‘Nothing… nothing further, your honor,’ Jim stammers. The assembled jury gives Jim an unofficial warning for wasting their time, but make sure it doesn’t go to the recordings. T’Pau rings the bell, and the hearing is over. Just like that.

After nearly everyone has left, Jim remains seated in the empty hall. He doesn’t even stir when Spock places his hand on Jim’s shoulder.

‘Come on, Jim. Come with me.’

Spock helps the stunned Jim up and leads him away from the hall, through the winding corridors and out to the hot day of his home planet. He fetches a drink from a stall, and makes sure Jim drinks all of it. Jim follows Spock blindly, like a helpless puppy following its master. But the drink refreshes him.

‘Spock, stop.’

They stop in a deserted alley, shaded by tall, red rock formations on each side. There are magnificent houses built everywhere, but from here they can’t be seen. Jim grabs Spock by the sleeve of his official gold-embroidered shining blue tunic. The Vulcan stops and looks at Jim.

‘Spock, I’m sorry. I don’t know why you did what you did, to the recording I mean, but you should not have done it. I will resign. If you don’t accept the Enterprise, someone else will. I’m sorry.’

‘I know,’ Spock simply says, grabs Jim by the hand and continues walking. The bewildered Jim is lead to a secluded two-storied house, where Spock seats him on soft pillows spread around the floor. Jim is offered another drink, which he gulps down in a hurry. The heat of Vulcan is getting to him.

‘I know what happened after the party, Jim. I am a Vulcan. I am in control of my mind and aware of my surroundings, even when I let my human side win over logic. I saw no reason to allow you to insult me in court.’

Spock sits down before Jim, and once again fills the glass Jim is holding.

‘Jim, your crime was committed against me, not the Starfleet. Isn’t it then logical that I be the one to judge you?’

The drink is getting to Jim’s head. He sways a little when he nods his agreement to the two and a half Spocks. They all grin at him. Jim stares at his glass, which again seems awfully empty. It’s a sad thing to look at, an empty glass. But the Spocks are friendly and soon the glass look much happier, and so does Jim.

‘Good port,’ Jim says. He doesn’t know what else to say, since everything else is a blur. There was a … a meeting, earlier that day, yes? No port at that meeting, so it must’ve been a boring one.

‘My personal blend,’ smiles one of the Spocks, while the rest hover around him like mirages in a desert. The one who looks most solid reaches out his hand and strokes Jim’s cheek. Jim closes his eyes and leans against the warm, comforting touch.

‘You know what will happen now, don’t you?’ Spock asks in a low voice. Jim feels Spock’s hand stroking his hair affectionately, like one would caress a pet dog.

‘You will rape me,’ Jim hears himself answering. ‘You’ve got me drunk, led me into this, this desolate place, and now you will rape me.’

Spock smiles like a predator playing with a helpless victim. He doesn’t have to reply.

The glass falls from Jim’s hands as Spock pushes him violently down on the floor, and easily rips away the golden tunic the captain is wearing. One strong tug from Spock, and the buttons in Jim’s trousers come away entirely. Jim is too weak from the alcohol to even try to resist as Spock tears his underwear away, and throws them to the growing pile of rags, which used to be a Starfleet uniform.  

Spock undresses himself calmly. He crawls on top of Jim, and sits down on his chest. Even though Spock leans most of his weight on his legs, Jim has difficulties breathing properly. Spock bends his ankles over Jim’s arms, locking the human in place. He doesn’t speak. Jim looks at the Vulcan on top of him, and understands. Jim raises his head, and touches the Vulcan’s penis with the tip of his tongue. Spock’s stoic face stays blank even when Jim takes the sensitive tip of the penis to his mouth, and starts to suck. His tongue swirls around Spock’s member as he eagerly sucks him, taking Spock as deep to his throat as he possibly can. Jim enjoys the salty taste of the Vulcan. He is careful not to nick the skin with his teeth, and is happy to notice that Spock begins to move in rhythm, swaying gently as Jim sucks him up.

Spock leans down to supports Jim’s neck. Grateful of the assistance Jim can now relax his aching neck muscles a bit, and thanks the Vulcan by swallowing him so deep that Jim can’t even breathe. Jim tries to swallow, which makes his throat rub Spock’s member in a most exciting manner. When Jim stops for a moment to catch his breath, Spock suddenly gets up and turns around, placing himself even closer to Jim’s face. Hungrily Jim tries to reach for the wet penis with his lips, when he suddenly feels a hot Vulcan mouth enveloping his own erect penis. Jim moans aloud in pleasure. Happily Jim realizes his hands are now free, so he reaches up to massage Spock’s trained butt while licking the shaft of his greenish penis with his long, eager tongue. Spock’s own fingers caress Jim’s inner thighs and his testicles, pink and ready to be touched. When Jim focuses too much on his own pleasure, Spock pushes his pelvis down, dipping his organ deep into Jim’s throat and momentarily asphyxiating the captain. He will not let his sweet little toy enjoy too much.

Too soon Spock gets up again.

‘Get up, toy. On your hands and knees,’ he commands Jim harshly. Jim obeys dutifully, and presses his head against the pillows on the ground. He’s never done this before, and deep in his mind something is trying to warn him.

Without any preamble Spock spreads Jim’s butt cheeks with his hands, and trusts his throbbing penis inside the captain. Jim screams out in pain. It feels like he’s being pierced by a hot metal iron, except that the iron would stop his bleeding. Jim thinks he can already smell blood. He bites a pillow, bites it hard, so that within seconds his jaws hurt. Jim doesn’t even notice when Spock makes a long, hard thrust, and spills his seed inside Jim. The alcohol, excitement and pain all create an invisible wall between Jim and the real world around him.

He stirs only when Spock offers him a glass of diluted wine to reduce the pain. Jim empties the glass in one gulp. When in a minute Spock pushes himself inside Jim again it no longer hurts so much. Jim manages to relax himself, and allows the Vulcan to penetrate deeper. Spock grunts in pleasure. A strong, gushing storm of pleasure takes Jim by surprise when Spock’s hard shaft pokes at Jim’s prostate. Spock grabs Jim by his pelvis, and starts thrusting even faster, with Jim moving together with him. This time they both come. Jim is too tired to support himself: he falls flat on the floor, on to the puddle of semen and blood, and just lays there, panting. Spock manages to lie down next to him. For a long while they both are quiet.

‘Come,’ Spock says then, gently. Slowly and carefully he helps Jim get up, and leads him to another room, where a true luxury of a warm bath awaits them. Jim knew Spock’s family was rich, but a bath in the desert of Vulcan… Blissfully Jim sinks in to the tub together with Spock. Spock leans against the tub wall, and pulls Jim gently to his lap, Jim’s tense back against Spock’s chest. With his long fingers Spock begins to massage Jim’s shoulders. Jim can’t sit, so he partly lies, partly floats before Spock.

‘Are you alright, Jim?’ Spock then asks softly. Jim stirs, he has almost dozed off.

‘Yes, Spock. It hurts a bit still, but I think the bleeding has stopped.’

‘The last glass I gave you had some medicines and herbs in it. It relieves the pain, but also greatly increases the rate your body metabolizes alcohol. That’s why you feel tired. Your body is spending energy at an increasing rate.’

Jim mutters something in response. Spock grabs a sponge, and using a delicately scented soap washes himself and the captain squeaky clean. By the time Jim gets up from the tub and wraps himself into a towel, while Spock fetches them new uniforms, he nearly falls asleep on his feet. But somehow he manages to get dressed and stand still, when Spock calls up to the Enterprise for a transport back aboard the ship.

‘Jim! You look horrible! What has happened?’ McCoy was expecting them at the transporter room. He was a flammable mix of hysterical concern and furious anger. McCoy grabs Jim by the arm and together with Spock walks the captain down the stairs of the transporter.

‘The weather, doctor,’ explains Spock calmly. ‘It’s heat stress. The captain needs rest and liquids.’

McCoy glares at Spock.

‘You’re giving me medical advice now, Mister Spock?’ The emphasis was clear: Bones wasn’t about to take advice from someone without a Dr. before his name. Wisely Spock remains quiet, and simply assists Bones as they drag Jim to the sickbay, despite Jim’s loud complaints that he was merely tired and needed sleep. When they got to the sickbay, Bones didn’t even have the time to initiate med scans, before Jim was already snoring in deep, peaceful sleep.

‘Now, Mr. Spock, you will exp- Mr. Spock? Mr. Spock?’

But there was no one to respond to McCoy’s inquiries. Patiently he waits, keeping an eye on the medical screen, which constantly showed nothing but green. After some hours Jim’s sleep became lighter, but it took almost ten more hours before he woke up. By then Bones was drinking his sixth cup of strong coffee.

‘Jim, what happened down there?’

‘What? Oh, you know, the weather. I probably shouldn’t have even tasted that famous Vulcan port. Feels like a bunch of tribbles have crapped in my mouth,’ Jim bubbles, feeling strangely light and happy. He swings his feet over the edge of the bed.

‘What about the hearing, Jim? What was that all about? I’ve tried to ask Spock, but that’s about a useful as talking to a brick wall. As usual,’ Bone comments dryly.

‘Err… it was dismissed, there was no real case after all. I thought there was, but turns out I was wrong.’

‘You even smelled funny!’ Bones exclaims, trying desperately to find a reason for Jim’s earlier condition. Jim recalls the bath he shared with Spock, and still senses the lingering scent of the fragrant soap on his skin. He smiles, warmly and genuinely, and his eyes sparkle in the bright light of the sickbay.

‘Yes, I do. It was a rare soap. I thought I’d bring some back to you, as a souvenir, but perhaps the scent was a bit too strong for humans,’ Jim yarns.  Bones huffs.

‘And all the port you brought was carried conveniently in your blood and liver, I think. Oh well, you’re healthy as usual. Get out of my sickbay. You have a ship to run,’ he grunts, but Jim hears the relief in the doctor’s voice.  

‘I do, don’t I? I am the captain. I am, in fact, the captain of the Enterprise,’ Jim mumbles. Bones stares at him fixedly, apparently reconsidering his statement about Jim’s health. Jim notices the look and makes haste to leave before Bones would subject him to a series of tests and scans.

Whistling happily to himself Jim hurries to the bridge. Spock is at his station.

‘Mr. Spock,’ Jim calls nonchalantly, while skimming through the report Bones had painstakingly written for him.

 ‘How about a game of chess tonight? At my quarters.’

Spock turns to look at the captain quizzically. Jim directs the full force of his charms at the Vulcan, and softens his voice to a sultry plea: ‘Please?’

There was no mistaking the hidden meaning in Jim’s message. Come play with me, Spock, he seemed to say. Screw the chess. Fuck me instead.

Spock’s face remains tranquil, but his eyes flash in happy surprise.  

‘Acknowledged, Sir.’

Chapter End Notes:

 

 

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