I, Spock

Title: I, Spock

Author: Tempest

Series: TOS

Parings: S/Mc

Rating: R, not for acts, but for other types of content

Summary: Sequel to “What Do Little Boys Play With?” After the second encounter with Mudd, Spock has an idea that will help his relationship with McCoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own TOS. I never have, and I never will. Star Trek and all of its relations are property of Paramount and Viacom. I only own this story. Anybody who has a problem with the thought of men in homosexual relationships with each other, please stay away. Flames and feedback are welcome. Please ask before putting this anywhere.


I, Spock

By Tempest

December 8, 2004



      The Crew of the Enterprise was stranded on a planet, full of Androids, programmed only to serve, and ruled by Harry Mudd. The crewmembers were also in various states of shock and deep emotion. Kirk was angry, and was growing angrier by the second, that the Androids had stolen his ship and was ready to do anything to get it back, as well as find a way to punish Mudd for doing it to him in the first place.


Scotty, although he was fascinated by the workings of the planet’s environmental and computer controls, was disappointed in himself for not being able to keep the Androids from taking control, forcing him to beam down, and keeping them all captive. He was also filled with a paternal longing for his engines and was ready to help the Captain in any way possible to get the Enterprise back.


      Uhura, while intrigued by the prospect of eternal youth and beauty, was dedicated to her job and her life and was filled with anything but sympathy for Mudd, who had just lost his reign of the Androids and the planet. If it were up to her, she would give him a good talking to, with a boot to his behind.


      Chekov, still somewhat green around the edges, was confused about how the rest of the crew seemed to know this Mudd and he did not. And he was having a hard time not being tempted by paradise. But his desire for promotion was keeping him in line. He hoped to make Lieutenant Junior Grade within the year.


      Spock was not pleased with Mudd on a variety of levels. 1) For committing crimes against the Federation the last time they met. 2) For committing crimes against the Federation which led Mudd here. 3) For hijacking the Enterprise and stranding he, and the rest of the crew, on the planet. 4) For putting Leonard McCoy in danger. 5) For certain insinuating remarks regarding his mother. 6) For trying to tempt the rest of the crew. As well, Mudd had attempted to come between he and his duty, and that was simply not permissible. Spock would see to it that when the mission was complete, justice would be served.


      Mudd was shocked and quite miffed that the Androids had turned on him. He wanted Kirk and the crew stranded on the planet, yes, but he sure as hell had no desire to be stranded with them. He was also fearful for his life, since it was obvious that the officers of the ship he had tried to commandeer would, at first chance, kill him in his sleep, or beat him to death while he was awake. And after what he had done to the Androids, he did not think they would try to help him, despite their programming. Most horrifying of all, he was beginning to actually yearn for this wife. Upon reflection, perhaps the situation was not that bad.


      McCoy was painfully hard. *This,* he thought to himself, *just isn’t fair.*


      Spock, of course, knew why McCoy was so uncomfortable, but had long ago promised himself never to broach the subject with the doctor. They were each entitled to their secrets. But it pained him to see McCoy so uncomfortable. He was surely suffering more than anyone.


      The Vulcan walked over to him, sitting down beside him. “Are you all right?”


      McCoy nodded, shifting his body’s position to hide the bulge in his trousers. The last thing he needed was for Spock to think he was a deviant. As it was, just by being coworkers in a homosexual, interspecies relationship, they were pushing the envelope for Vulcan intimacy tolerance. “Just want to get back to the ship, I suppose. Although I have to say, those...labs...are the most incredible I’ve ever seen.”


      Spock knew precisely what he meant by “labs.” Although the doctor had gone down to look at them, and Spock had gone later, it was not the scientific capability of the laboratories, neither was it the possibilities for medical research that intrigued the doctor. It was simply the fact that they were overrun by Androids and the machine for creating Android series was located down there as well.


      “The Captain and I have been discussing a plan to escape, but we will need your cooperation,” Spock whispered, making certain that they were out of earshot of anything that might eavesdrop.


      “If I can help, you know I’ll be happy to,” McCoy replied, more conflicted than his reply indicated. However, he knew his duty, and he knew friendship and love, and all outweighed a fantasy, no matter how long he had waited for it.


      Spock leaned over, whispering the plan into McCoy ear, explaining parts of it in great detail. McCoy grinned as he listened. Yes, that would certainly work well. Fifteen minutes later, Mudd was lying unconscious on the floor and an escape plan was in place. Now they could escape, and if they could not...McCoy could enjoy the Androids without guilt.



     A few hours later, Kirk was laughing himself sick. “Spock,” he managed to get out between fits of laughter, “that’s the most fun I’ve had in years!”

      The Vulcan nodded, although he was not paying much attention to his Captain; his concentration was on the Doctor, and the look of regret in the human’s clear, blue eyes.


      Kirk continued, seemingly oblivious. “Did you see Uhura and Chekov? I don’t think I’ve seen a man take so much abuse from a woman,” Kirk paused, remembering that one night he had gone with Gary Mitchell to that club on Rigel VII.


      “Ensign Chekov is an effective actor, Captain. And shall we implement Part Two of our plan?”


      Kirk nodded. They had gotten the ship back, which meant the white knights had prevailed. Now it was time to punish the black knight.


      The two of them excused themselves from the rest of the crew, who were distracting Mudd, so that they could sneak down into the laboratory.


      “You do not think this is too cruel, Captain?” Spock asked as he set the controls on the chamber.


      Kirk shook his head as he cut off the security feed and started up the power. “I got my lady back, the least I can do is return the favor.”


      Spock was not going to argue with that logic; he, too, was not particularly inclined to pity Mudd for the plight they were about to unleash upon him. After he had entered the physical and personality specifications, he turned over the task of watching the replication process to Kirk, so that he could reprogram Norman, and vicariously, the rest of the Androids.


      Kirk watched as the Androids began to come out of the machine, curious by the entire process. “Wouldn’t it be a sad thing if this was how it worked with the rest of us?”


      Spock was occupied with the task of making certain that Mudd’s control over the Androids was broken, and that their original tasks, making the planet inhabitable by Planet M Standard conditions, would be resumed and completed. “How what worked, Captain?”


      “Reproduction. It’d take all of the fun out of it, don’t you think?”


      Spock wondered, sometimes, how Kirk did not seem to understand that even friendship had limits and that talking about sexual intimacy was something he barely felt comfortable discussing with McCoy, and that was when it was serious. Humor around the subject was simply unheard of. He knew, of course, how to properly retaliate to end the subject. “It would certainly give you more time for chess.”


      Kirk was flustered by the unexpected comment from Spock, not sure if it was humor or not. McCoy had been the one able to decipher such hidden content. He, on the other hand, was the one who was able to beat the Vulcan in chess. The Captain simply turned back to his monitoring of the creation chamber, allowing Spock to finishing his programming exercise.


      Once the task they had planned was completed, Kirk turned to Spock, “Should we go and spring the news on Harry?”


      Spock nodded, “Yes, but I will join you momentarily. There is one last task to which I must attend.”


      Kirk appeared as though he was about to inquire further, but the serious look on Spock’s face made him decided against it. “Sure thing, I’ll see you up on the surface.” Kirk then went into the lift that would take him back to the rest of the crew.


      Spock, once alone, came to his decision. He would give McCoy a special treat so that they could both put their secrets behind them. He did not have much time, however, so he went to the control room and started.



      Not for the first time that day, McCoy thought to himself about how life just wasn’t fair. Although he was quite happy to be back on the Enterprise, with his life and his freedom, and his lover, that darkest part of himself wanted to be back on the planet. And he had expected that much. But Mudd got to stay with them rather than go back to prison. Why was Kirk rewarding the con man?


      McCoy knew, of course, that he could never bring that up with the Captain, lest he prepare himself to be mocked for the next fifty years. Plus, Kirk would probably tell Spock over chess and once again, it traced back to Spock thinking him a deviant. And risking his relationship with Spock was not something he was about to do over an attempt to keep Mudd from living a fantasy, no matter how much he, himself, desired it.


      He sat at the desk in his office in sickbay, trying to write a report that did not make him sound like he abused Cordrazine, especially since Starfleet was still watching him due to the Guardian of Forever incident.


      Something finally came to him, after thinking for what felt to him like ages. He worked quickly at writing it down, so he could push the incident out of his work mind and focus on it only in fantasy, not a missed opportunity, simply something to keep himself warm on nights when Spock was pulling a double shift.


      He finished the report, gave it once over, and then submitted it to Kirk to file along with the rest of the officers’ reports, to go to Head Quarters in the morning. Looking at the patient roster, he saw he would be able to adjourn for the evening; Chapel would be able to handle the remaining cases in sickbay, nothing too serious.


      He gave a parting to the on-duty staff and left for his quarters. He needed a quick shower, something to eat, and then he would see if Spock was off duty so they could spend some time engaged in the horizontal tango, as his father used to call it.


      He approached his quarters and entered. The lights were off, but the temperature was above normal. It was odd, since Spock rarely meditated in his quarters and there was no glow of the firepot. McCoy stepped further inside, ordering the lights to full and closed the door behind him.


      His quarters appeared normal. They were clean, the bed was made, and empty, nothing was out of sort. But as his eyes fell on the corner of his bed area, he felt his heart jump. He had to be hallucinating.


      In the corner of his room, was Spock, dressed in his a dark civilian outfit, with a Starfleet Insignia on the chest. Around his neck was one of the necklaces from Mudd’s planet, and it had the number “1” on it. His posture was rigid and his eyes closed, seemingly unmoving.


      He had been working too hard and fantasizing too much. That was the only explanation. McCoy rubbed at his eyes, moving further into the room, but his presence did not seem to disturb the Vulcan’s posture. Not so much as a slight twitch of the hand.


      Had one of the Androids sensed his desires, and in their misguided interpretation of their purpose sent him a present? The thought of his secret being discovered, even by them, made his stomach knot. But as he went to put this work down and change into a clean shirt, his curiosity got the better of him.


      McCoy approached the Vulcan and looked it over quickly. This couldn’t be real. Could it? He had to know. Thinking of what usually worked in his favorite videos; he leaned over to whisper in the Vulcan’s ear, “Activate.”


      Apparently, it worked in the real world as well. The Vulcan’s eyes opened, and he lifted his chin. “How may I serve you?” The voice was deep and clear, no evidence of emotion. It also had more of a monotone than the other Androids, as though it were speaking that way deliberately.


      Suddenly, a thought occurred to McCoy, and he reached out, grabbing the Vulcan’s hand and pressing it between his own. Warm. Flesh. Real. The real Spock. Not an Android. This was his Spock.


      “Why are you doing this?” He asked, feeling the fear of being mocked or rejected well up in his chest.


      “I am not programmed to respond in that area.”


      McCoy sighed loudly. The Vulcan had to be difficult, even in this. If Spock wanted to be literal before humiliating him and ending the relationship, then he would be literal. Thinking back on his favorite movie, he phrased his next request carefully, “State your purpose.”


      “To provide you with pleasure. To tend to your needs,” was the low, nearly-mechanical response.


      McCoy knew that a simple, “But why?” would start a loop of logic back to the failure of programming response so he thought carefully, trying to think what the leads in his movies would do. It came to him after a moment. “Explain the purpose of this programming.”


      “To give you that which you need, and that for which you long.” Had the Vulcan’s voice grown tender? Even slightly? Or was it just his imagination, knowing that it was not of wires and metal, but flesh and blood?


      He squeezed the Vulcan’s hand, stepping closer to him. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispered. “If you think I’m perverted, you can just tell me, but acting this out won’t make the appeal go away.”


      Against his role, Spock returned the squeeze of the hand. A warm look entered his eyes, his way of telling McCoy he understood and was not trying to fix him, judge him, or break off the relationship. “I am programmed to tend to your desires. What are your orders?”


      McCoy understood the message. He dropped Spock’s hand and stepped backwards, intent on enjoying the gift Spock had made for him. “Strip.”


      The Vulcan’s movements were practiced, and yet somewhat slow, a mimic of mechanical movements. When his clothing was off, folded atop the hamper, he once more returned to his ramrod, at attention position.


      As McCoy divested himself of his own clothing, sat on the edge of the bed, and ordered Spock to ready him, as though his arousal was not blatant from the very idea, he wondered to himself if Mudd was possibly enjoying his stay with the Androids as much as he way. He also knew that after that night, he would not need his videos for a while.


      As the lights were ordered down, the last words that could be heard were, “Open your mouth.”



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