Spock's Arrival

       
        Star Date: 7704.25...
       
        Trong sat abstractly watching his control panel, watching the flicker of the lights that indicated the transport activity. With such a short-handed crew, even officers had to pitch in and relieve positions that they would normally never have to go near.
        He was of Eurasian descent, short and dark, heavy-set and always dieting to maintain his weight. He was fond of pastry.
        The com-line chatter between the ensign in the transport room itself, and the junior officer whose performance he was monitoring, merely recorded the routine check-ins as the newer additions to the crew arrived. This was the last boarding day at the rebuild station, they were to pull out at 1600 hours, ship time, and check out thrusters on low impulse power as they swung around an orbit to bring them to Command Base 17.
        No one yet knew if Kirk was coming back to active duty. The rumors were divided evenly for both versions of who was to ultimately assume command. Trong had his own wishes on that subject, and more than a few credits on the wager. The odds had been changing almost hourly.
        The com-line for his station blipped its summons.
        He acknowledged the call. “Trong here.”
        “Cap…. Commander Trong,” the transport ensign stammered in confusion. Trong wondered what could possibly have upset him so much.
        “Go ahead, ensign.”
        “Mister Thalos is coming aboard, Sir, ETA, five minutes.”
        “Acknowledged, transport. I’m on my way. Notify Mister Sulu.” No wonder there was confusion! Grateful for the excuse to get out of a dull shift of monitor-watching, Trong swung heavily out of his seat and headed for the elevator.
       
        # # # # # #
       
        Sulu stood by the transporter station, watching the young ensign operate the controls. Although Mister Trong and even Sulu himself had checked the ensign out a dozen times, and he had already beamed up half of the cargo and repair crews, Sulu was taking no chances as his expression clearly told the crew members around him.
        Trong shifted in position and pretended to be part of the bulkhead..
        “Ground signals ready, sir.”
        “Very well, initialize the transporter, Mr. Weinstein.”
        “Aye, sir.”
        The lights and chiming of the console beeped out a fondly familiar sequence and a form gradually solidified on the newly refurbished transporter station.
        Sulu rushed forward in greeting, only slightly hesitant to greet his former mentor and friend.
        “Permission to come aboard, Sir,” Spock spoke the customary words.
        “Permission granted! Welcome aboard, Mister Spock!”
        “Thank you, Commander Sulu,” Spock's steady gaze scanned the room, as he duly noted equipment and occupants. “I believe that my luggage was sent ahead,” he was concerned over the missing valise.
        “It has been beamed over to incoming cargo. Yeoman Andropov will take it to your quarters after check-out. We are observing security classification loading instruction 437.4A...”
        “I am familiar with the classification,” Spock nodded his approval of the procedure as he handed over his ID disk. Sulu passed it to the ensign for login while Spock stepped over to the identity verification plate and pressed his palm onto its cool, sensitive surface.
        “Commander, I had believed you to be in the war zone,” the statement was more like a question. Spock had made a special effort to maintain at least an informative position on the former crew while he had been at the Vulcan Science Academy. On this last visit home he had not wanted to break contact. He had accepted the humans he served with, and it satisfied his curiosity to monitor their careers. The things they did that broke all logical rules, at least as far as he understood human logic, and the fact they could still succeed intrigued him.
        Sulu looked surprised at Spock's interest. He was never certain what mood Spock was in, whether he would speak civilly to or ignore the humans around him at any given time was anybody's guess. He hurried to answer.
        “I.. I was. My ship blew an engine before I made it through the lines on my first run. I almost made it back, had to be towed the last sector like some old garbage scow. Guess I'll just have to live that one down.”
        Getting towed into port was a humiliation that no captain wanted to face. At least the Enterprise had never endured that!
        “You turned down a Captaincy to rejoin the Enterprise?” Spock queried.
        “Let's just say a certain Admiral arranged for me to be available,” Sulu answered, sarcastically.
        “Henrichi.”
        “You too?” Sulu grinned.
        They were waiting for the busy and only partially installed security system to signal clear. The ensign was studiously examining Spock, reverent awe plainly stamped across his face. He had been so distracted by the Vulcan's presence that he had ignored the complete signal from the entry terminal, its plaintive bleep and blinking light going unnoticed.
        Spock was beginning to feel an impatience he did not reveal. His superb hearing had picked up the signal.
        “Mister...”
        “Ensign Weinstein, Sir!”
        “Mister Weinstein. My ID disk, please,” Spock motioned to the console.
        Weinstein flushed in acute embarrassment, grabbed the ID disk, fumbled and recovered, tripped on the corner of the console and caught himself, and somehow made it across the floor to Spock. Flushed beet red, he offered the disk to its owner, dropping back automatically to full attention, and then nearly slamming Sulu in the face with his elbow as he saluted.
        Spock retrieved the disk with an outward display of infinite patience. Sulu was inwardly convulsed in laughter, the restrained smile and telltale crinkle of his eyes giving him away. Weinstein flushed further on detecting this.
        “Mister Weinstein,” Spock leveled his gaze at the young man, Weinstein dared a look in Spock's direction.
        “It is not necessary to be in awe of an officer, in fact, it could very well be deadly. To both of us. You must learn to perform your functions without noticing whether your cargo is animal, vegetable, or mineral.”
        “Yes, S-S-Sir!” he stammered back. “S-S-Sorry, Sir.”
        “What I mean, Mister Weinstein, is that whatever or whomever is beamed aboard, you are only to notice that they are expected and have, in fact, arrived intact.”
        “Yes, Sir,” his voice lowered, Weinstein stared at his boots.
        “Mister Weinstein.”
        “Yes, Sir?” he looked expectantly up at Spock.
        Spock's voice was softer, “We were all ensigns once. Return to your post.”
        Weinstein smiled, then saluted, bellowed “Yes, sir!” and practically dove back behind the console.
        Sulu barely made it out the door before releasing his hilarity. “He's been waiting for you for days!”
        “He should not have anticipated so much. It could be dangerous,” Spock had not really seen the humor of the ensign's predicament. Or, at least he wasn't showing that he had.
        “Oh, don't worry. He's normally AOK. All the recruits are. They gave us a choice replacement team, even if they are mostly green recruits -- this mission could be deadly, and they all know it. And, they all volunteered.” Sulu had sobered up.
        “You and Jim - - - all of us, our earlier exploits are required reading at the academy now. Most of the crew idolizes you both. Most of the new crew idolizes you both. Weinstein is better than some I've encountered. One recruit was nearly rejected when she fainted on seeing Scotty the first time. He was so flattered that he insisted she be kept on board.”
        Spock's eyebrow raised in surprise at that. “That is an error I wish remedied,” Spock shook his head. Was returning to this disorganized and undisciplined human environment a mistake?
        Sulu continued his chatty conversation.
        Trong sidled away from the door and then hurried to get back to the bridge. Thalos had caught him out of the corner of his eye. He was sure that Sulu hjad too.
        “Oh -- they get over it pretty fast. One or two twelve hour shifts, some cursing and enough frustration, everyone gets to look equal. She's worked out great, really sharp with the new engines. Scott and his ... assistant Kathryn have practically adopted her. For that matter, so has Chekov!” They had reached Spock's quarters.
        Spock turned at the door, “I'll be ready to assume command of the computer installation and verification at 1100 hours.” Without another word, he turned and went in, leaving Sulu suddenly staring at a closed door.