Surprise!by Nichelle Nichols, Sondra Marshak, and Myrna Culbreath
Spock turned as the transporter effect released them, with some thought of how to hustle the Captain off to bed, not too obviously.
But Kirk was saying, "You won't forget that lullaby you just composed, will you, Uhura? It was a smash--not only with little Mori. I think you just lulled another planet right into the Federation. His grandparents are very influential, you know."
Uhura stepped down from the transporter, pleased. "I can't say I was thinking of that, Captain. Just of a very bright, very brave little boy who said that he wasn't lonely all that time on the wrecked ship when his parents were in a coma. He did seem to enjoy that belated birthday party, but still there was a loneliness about him."
Kirk smiled as they moved through the corridor to the turbo-lift. "Yes, there's something special about your very own party . . ." For a moment he was silent, and Spock stepped in with a voice command to the turbo-lift. It shot them to the level of officers' quarters with suitable alacrity. The Captain had very nearly been killed this day on what should have been a relatively routine rescue of the boy and his parents from a damaged ship. And Kirk had been under such stress for so long that it was a source of amazement to Spock how he kept on his feet, let alone took such obvious delight in the little boy, the impromptu party, the lullaby. Although it had to be admitted that the little boy was rather special, perhaps quite a lot like James Kirk had been . . .
They stepped out of the lift. "You make a terrific mother, Uhura," Kirk said.
She turned with a lift of eyebrow that was almost Vulcan. "Indeed? Thank you, Captain. But then, I always am. The ship is just full of little boys."
Kirk did a small double-take as she vanished through the door of her quarters, a "Good night, gentlemen" floating sweetly after her. Spock was not quite sure whether he heard correctly, "Sleep tight." It did not seem quite logical nor, if the Captain's expression was any indication, quite safe.
"When is
her birthday?" Kirk muttered. "I think the traditional spanking might be in order."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Fascinating custom, Captain. Do you really want to inaugurate it among the command crew of the
Enterprise?"Kirk shot him a look of mischief, with just a touch of speculation on whether the Vulcan implied that someone might try to inaugurate it on the Captain of the
Enterprise."No," Kirk said firmly, in answer, or in rejection of the speculation. "But--" he looked back at Uhura's door, "there's no law against being sorely tempted."
"Indeed," Spock said blandly, and collected a small double-take himself.
Kirk paused beside his door, his mind visibly shifting to his ship. "I think I'll just check the bridge. It's a quiet night, but--" There was that look in his eye as when there was some odd mood among the crew or an engine running imperceptibly rough, some anomaly waiting to make its presence felt. Spock knew the look--and the feeling. He'd had a touch of it himself today, but it was doubtless only from the kind of day they had had. He could tell himself that and dismiss it with logic, but the Human could not.
"Jim, would you mind taking a look at my last move in our chess game? I'll take a turn around the bridge."
Kirk gave him the long-suffering look of being coddled too transparently. "Mother's little helper," he said with the look of a self-satisfied
morgril."I trust you will find the move helpful Captain," Spock said in his best Vulcan manner.
"Mate in three moves," Kirk challenged.
"Two," Spock said innocently, and Kirk began to look worried. He laughed, with the look of giving in gracefully.
"All right, Spock. You hooked me. Sure you wouldn't like to tuck me in?"
Spock allowed himself to brighten visibly. "Quite a logical suggestion, I believe." He inclined an eyebrow toward Kirk's door. "Mother's little helper," he said helpfully.
"I'd just like to see you try it . . . No, belay that," Kirk said hastily. "I'm going, already. Before you decide to sing me a lullaby. Good night, Spock."
Spock resisted the temptation. It would ruin his reputation for Vulcan decorum--which was none too secure with this particular Human, in any case---to say, "Sleep tight." Besides, Kirk looked as if he had read the thought without benefit of telepathy. "Good night, Jim," Spock said.
Spock watched the Captain go through the door. Vulcan decorum might have suffered, but Vulcan discipline had made it through one more time of seeing that man go through this door after a day on which he had very nearly died. They both knew that, too.
Spock headed for the bridge. It had been too early to wish James Kirk happy birthday, and Spock was not quite certain that the Captain had fully realized that tomorrow
was his birthday. But Kirk would discover, eventually, that Spock's last chess move was a special birthday present, planned for weeks for this night, and made this morning in the chess alcove which had been Spock's present to Kirk on his last birthday. The snap-in bulkhead doors had turned a little-needed access corridor between their quarters into a private sanctum-sanctorum where they kept their game-of-games. Their bathroom doors opened onto it, and the Captain of the
Enterprise had taken to the custom wholeheartedly, finding it a convenient challenge to working out a move or two between showering and shaving.
But when Spock eased in stealthily after a late tour of the ship, Kirk had not made an answering move. Small wonder. Spock had made a move which a galactic grand master might not answer in a week.
Spock went contentedly to bed. That would occupy Kirk's worry circuits for the better part of a day. However, Kirk would see through it, if Spock knew his Kirk. And he did.
Kirk strolled onto the bridge the next morning, a bit late--some 47.234 minutes--looking a little sheepish, a little lazy, a little expectant, probably not quite certain whetber he had rolled over and gone back to sleep after the soft computer call.
Was it Spock's fault if there had needed to be a certain adjustment to the computer, and he had made it at a certain moment in a certain way with a certain predictable but unavoidable result?
There were routine morning greetings from the day-shift bridge crew--except Uhura, who had assigned a relief for an hour, and Sulu, who had excused himself on some errand in the botany lab, leaving the navigator to cover. Spock presented status reports on a clipboard display, showing all quiet.
"Good morning, Captain. You appear rested."
Kirk shot him a small look of wondering whether he was being deviled. "Yes, Mr. Spock. I gather it's been a slow morning at the store."
"Indeed, Captain."
Kirk sat down to dictate the Captain's log. His voice was just an imperceptible fraction off as he said the stardate, Spock perceived. No one had wished Kirk happy birthday.
The navigator flinched, not so imperceptibly, at the date, and Kirk caught it. Plainly, someone had forgotten. Kirk settled his shoulders and dictated the log in the voice of the Starship Captain. But once he glanced up toward Spock's station. He would know that the Vulcan would not forget, but he was Human enough to be a little hurt if others had. And Uhura had not been wrong. There was a certain element of the little boy--very prevalent among Humans, of course, but rather more evident in the Captain at times, since he permitted it to show through.
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
