***You can either have this replace "Spock's Brain" in your head canon or not. Written by me and my brother.***
“Captain’s log, USS Enterprise: Following a brief intrusion by several unknown individuals, I have ordered a full inventory to be made of the Enterprise’s cargo, as well as any personal possessions belonging to the crew. Special attention is to be given to the contents of the armory and sickbay.”
“The inventory report from Engineering, sir,” Yeoman Grice said, handing a data slate to Kirk. “All technology, materials, and sundry items present and accounted for.” He took a step back and clasped his hands behind his back, waiting for the captain’s response.
“Thank you, Yeoman,” Kirk nodded, briefly perusing the slate’s contents until he came to the bottom of the document, where Montgomery Scott’s signature affirmed Grice’s statement. Tapping the tip of the stylus against the side of the slate twice, he added his signature to the report and passed it back to Grice, who walked up the steps of the command well towards the turbolift, passing two bridge officers who were heading to their stations.
Kirk turned to the communications station. “Lieutenant, any word from security on the investigation?”
Uhura pressed a switch on her console and shook her head. “They’re still sweeping the ship for evidence, sir. Mister Scott reports no evidence of tampering with critical systems thus far.”
Kirk rested his chin on one hand. “That’s good to know.” He looked up as the doors opened to reveal McCoy, who headed toward the spot Grice had vacated. His posture was slightly stiff, though his eyes showed relief. “Bones. Thought you’d still be busy.”
“Just finished,. The report’ll be along in a moment.” McCoy rubbed the back of his neck. “You’ll be happy to know we’re not missing a blessed thing; heaven knows I am. But just the thought of a break-in makes me…” He shivered. “And nobody had the slightest idea we’d been boarded?”
Kirk shook his head. “Not until they beamed away, I’m afraid. We’re still trying to understand how they did it, or what they were after. None of our personnel were harmed or seized, our databases weren’t accessed…no sign of any unknown craft in the area…” He shrugged.
“Y’know, Jim, maybe it’d be easier if you just told me what you do know?” McCoy drawled, a wry twist to his mouth.
A short woman in a blue dress carrying an armful of slates tapped Kirk on the shoulder. “Sciences reports nothing missing, sir.”
The slate on the top of her stack began to slide off, but Kirk caught it, taking the rest one at a time from her arms and resting them on the arm of his chair. “Thank you, sir.” She turned around and headed for the science station.
“Donahue?” At his call, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Have you seen Mr. Spock this morning?”
She thought for a moment, patting the side of her head to smooth a stray strand of black hair. “No, sir. Not since yesterday, end of shift.” Turning back to the station, she bent over the viewer and began to adjust the settings.
Kirk shared a confused look with McCoy, then turned to Uhura. “Lieutenant, the automated roll call…where did it say Commander Spock was?”
Uhura leaned forward and reached for her slate, tapping the screen a few times before spinning her chair around. “According to this, as of 0634 hours, he was recorded as being in his quarters. Asleep, likely.” She lowered the slate to her lap. “But it’s now 0917 hours. It’s not like him to be late for his shift,” she added, frowning slightly.
“No, it’s not.” Kirk punched the comm button on his chair. “Kirk to security.”
“Galbraith here, sir.”
“Send a couple of men to -”
“Captain,” Spock gasped hoarsely.
Everyone on the bridge turned and looked toward the entrance. Uhura gasped. A wild-eyed Spock stood by the door, one hand pressed against the frame. His hair was disheveled, his breath was coming in short, ragged gasps. But the most glaring detail of his appearance was the fact that he was wearing only the top half of his uniform. A pair of plain black shorts ended just below his knees, in lieu of his usual long pants.
Kirk’s finger depressed the mute button as he got up quickly from his chair, McCoy not far behind. “Spock! What happened?” He reached for Spock’s other arm, which hung limply at his side, and helped the Vulcan stagger barefooted towards the adjoining wall, lowering him to the ground gently.
McCoy pulled at the corner of one of the Vulcan’s eyes, then the other, before reaching for his medical tricorder and turning it on, running the reader over Spock’s body. “I’ll give him a mild tranquilizer. I’ve never seen him like this before, Jim.” He removed a hypospray from his medkit and injected Spock in the shoulder.
“Captain…” Spock repeated, grabbing Kirk’s uniform shirt. “The…intruders…”
Kirk grabbed Spock’s shoulder, shaking him once. “What is it, Spock? What about them?”
“They…took…” Spock swallowed hard. “…my jeans,” he finished, his voice strained but stronger, twisting Kirk’s collar as he stared straight into the captain’s eyes with desperation, then shifted his gaze to McCoy.
“Come again?” McCoy asked, almost dropping the hypospray.
“My jeans, Captain,” Spock repeated, releasing Kirk‘s collar. “They are gone.”
Kirk smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt, still unable to believe he’d heard Spock correctly. “Your jeans, Spock? As in denims?”
“Precisely.” Spock’s breathing slowed, the tranquilizer beginning to take effect. “I have been looking for them everywhere. But they are nowhere to be found. The intruders have absconded with them.”
“And from the looks of things, they stole ‘em right off your person,” McCoy muttered, replacing the hypo in his kit. “Am I right?”
Spock glanced down. “No. In my haste to locate them, I must not have finished dressing. My apologies for this breach of protocol, as well as my tardiness and the disruption, sir,” he added.
Kirk stood up, offering Spock a hand, which the Vulcan accepted. “I’ll overlook it this time, Commander.”
Spock closed his eyes, green streaks flushing his cheeks. “Thank you. May I be excused to finish dressing now?”
“You might want to borrow a spare work overall to wear until you get to your quarters, don’t you think?” McCoy asked, one hand on his hip.
Uhura was already bending over underneath her console to retrieve one from the compartment. “Here you go, Mister Spock,” she said, averting her eyes to spare him further embarrassment as she handed him the orange garment.
Spock stepped into the overall and fastened it up to his waist. “Much obliged,” he replied, and she smiled and nodded back. Passing the workstations next to Uhura’s, he stepped towards the turbolift. Pausing, he turned back to Kirk, a little of his earlier desperation still present in his eyes. “We must find my jeans, sir,” he reiterated, then disappeared into the lift.
“Captain’s log, USS Enterprise: Following a brief intrusion by several unknown individuals, I have ordered a full inventory to be made of the Enterprise’s cargo, as well as any personal possessions belonging to the crew. Special attention is to be given to the contents of the armory and sickbay.”
“The inventory report from Engineering, sir,” Yeoman Grice said, handing a data slate to Kirk. “All technology, materials, and sundry items present and accounted for.” He took a step back and clasped his hands behind his back, waiting for the captain’s response.
“Thank you, Yeoman,” Kirk nodded, briefly perusing the slate’s contents until he came to the bottom of the document, where Montgomery Scott’s signature affirmed Grice’s statement. Tapping the tip of the stylus against the side of the slate twice, he added his signature to the report and passed it back to Grice, who walked up the steps of the command well towards the turbolift, passing two bridge officers who were heading to their stations.
Kirk turned to the communications station. “Lieutenant, any word from security on the investigation?”
Uhura pressed a switch on her console and shook her head. “They’re still sweeping the ship for evidence, sir. Mister Scott reports no evidence of tampering with critical systems thus far.”
Kirk rested his chin on one hand. “That’s good to know.” He looked up as the doors opened to reveal McCoy, who headed toward the spot Grice had vacated. His posture was slightly stiff, though his eyes showed relief. “Bones. Thought you’d still be busy.”
“Just finished,. The report’ll be along in a moment.” McCoy rubbed the back of his neck. “You’ll be happy to know we’re not missing a blessed thing; heaven knows I am. But just the thought of a break-in makes me…” He shivered. “And nobody had the slightest idea we’d been boarded?”
Kirk shook his head. “Not until they beamed away, I’m afraid. We’re still trying to understand how they did it, or what they were after. None of our personnel were harmed or seized, our databases weren’t accessed…no sign of any unknown craft in the area…” He shrugged.
“Y’know, Jim, maybe it’d be easier if you just told me what you do know?” McCoy drawled, a wry twist to his mouth.
A short woman in a blue dress carrying an armful of slates tapped Kirk on the shoulder. “Sciences reports nothing missing, sir.”
The slate on the top of her stack began to slide off, but Kirk caught it, taking the rest one at a time from her arms and resting them on the arm of his chair. “Thank you, sir.” She turned around and headed for the science station.
“Donahue?” At his call, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Have you seen Mr. Spock this morning?”
She thought for a moment, patting the side of her head to smooth a stray strand of black hair. “No, sir. Not since yesterday, end of shift.” Turning back to the station, she bent over the viewer and began to adjust the settings.
Kirk shared a confused look with McCoy, then turned to Uhura. “Lieutenant, the automated roll call…where did it say Commander Spock was?”
Uhura leaned forward and reached for her slate, tapping the screen a few times before spinning her chair around. “According to this, as of 0634 hours, he was recorded as being in his quarters. Asleep, likely.” She lowered the slate to her lap. “But it’s now 0917 hours. It’s not like him to be late for his shift,” she added, frowning slightly.
“No, it’s not.” Kirk punched the comm button on his chair. “Kirk to security.”
“Galbraith here, sir.”
“Send a couple of men to -”
“Captain,” Spock gasped hoarsely.
Everyone on the bridge turned and looked toward the entrance. Uhura gasped. A wild-eyed Spock stood by the door, one hand pressed against the frame. His hair was disheveled, his breath was coming in short, ragged gasps. But the most glaring detail of his appearance was the fact that he was wearing only the top half of his uniform. A pair of plain black shorts ended just below his knees, in lieu of his usual long pants.
Kirk’s finger depressed the mute button as he got up quickly from his chair, McCoy not far behind. “Spock! What happened?” He reached for Spock’s other arm, which hung limply at his side, and helped the Vulcan stagger barefooted towards the adjoining wall, lowering him to the ground gently.
McCoy pulled at the corner of one of the Vulcan’s eyes, then the other, before reaching for his medical tricorder and turning it on, running the reader over Spock’s body. “I’ll give him a mild tranquilizer. I’ve never seen him like this before, Jim.” He removed a hypospray from his medkit and injected Spock in the shoulder.
“Captain…” Spock repeated, grabbing Kirk’s uniform shirt. “The…intruders…”
Kirk grabbed Spock’s shoulder, shaking him once. “What is it, Spock? What about them?”
“They…took…” Spock swallowed hard. “…my jeans,” he finished, his voice strained but stronger, twisting Kirk’s collar as he stared straight into the captain’s eyes with desperation, then shifted his gaze to McCoy.
“Come again?” McCoy asked, almost dropping the hypospray.
“My jeans, Captain,” Spock repeated, releasing Kirk‘s collar. “They are gone.”
Kirk smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt, still unable to believe he’d heard Spock correctly. “Your jeans, Spock? As in denims?”
“Precisely.” Spock’s breathing slowed, the tranquilizer beginning to take effect. “I have been looking for them everywhere. But they are nowhere to be found. The intruders have absconded with them.”
“And from the looks of things, they stole ‘em right off your person,” McCoy muttered, replacing the hypo in his kit. “Am I right?”
Spock glanced down. “No. In my haste to locate them, I must not have finished dressing. My apologies for this breach of protocol, as well as my tardiness and the disruption, sir,” he added.
Kirk stood up, offering Spock a hand, which the Vulcan accepted. “I’ll overlook it this time, Commander.”
Spock closed his eyes, green streaks flushing his cheeks. “Thank you. May I be excused to finish dressing now?”
“You might want to borrow a spare work overall to wear until you get to your quarters, don’t you think?” McCoy asked, one hand on his hip.
Uhura was already bending over underneath her console to retrieve one from the compartment. “Here you go, Mister Spock,” she said, averting her eyes to spare him further embarrassment as she handed him the orange garment.
Spock stepped into the overall and fastened it up to his waist. “Much obliged,” he replied, and she smiled and nodded back. Passing the workstations next to Uhura’s, he stepped towards the turbolift. Pausing, he turned back to Kirk, a little of his earlier desperation still present in his eyes. “We must find my jeans, sir,” he reiterated, then disappeared into the lift.
