Onto The Deep Blue

Jim Kirk finished toweling his hair and, wrapping the towel around his waist, strode out to the living room.

Spock looked up from the PADD he was perusing at the dining table, and raised an eyebrow. It was still a surprise, this youthful form his beloved had assumed.

He let his eyes drift slowly down the tight young body, and tried not to smile. Spock had become unused to smiling, these long decades. Unused to pleasure...

yet despite 2 days of near constant lovemaking since Jim had recovered, he felt a tug at his groin, and forced himself to master it. Spontaneous dissolution in the PlakTow had been horrible -- he had no wish to injure his mate again with his appetite.

"Hardly appropriate clothing... unless you wish to return to the bedroom."

Jim smiled and sat down. "I think I need a bit of a breather." He surveyed the various dishes on the table, and began to help himself to toast and peanut butter. "But maybe, after breakfast..."

Spock let the smile out and poured a cup of coffee for his mate. "You distract me. I wish to talk with you. I have a proposal."

Jim snorted, remembering their careful, secret courtship, so long ago now. "You already proposed. I accepted. That's why I'm half naked at your breakfast table... thanks for the coffee." Jim finished his first slice of toast, began slavering jelly on top of his second. "Lord! You do give a man an appetite. But you know what, Spock? This time I'm not gonna get fat."

//then you will have to avoid such things as peanut butter and jelly on buttered toast, James. may I have your attention for a moment?//

"What's your proposal, lover?"

"You have acknowledged that you do not with to spend a second lifetime devoted to StarFleet. We both acknowledge that we are not men to sit idle. I have a career in mind that we might both find satisfying.

You will, of course, remember our mission into the past of Earth, to return the extinct species "humpback whale..."

"Spock! You've gotten awfully formal since I died.

But yes, I remember it clearly, how could I forget?

It was during that trip to the past that you remembered we had been partners before... before you died." He hesitated over reaching for a third slice of toast, then sat back with a sigh. "Sorry to interupt. Please, carry on."

"Since that time, there has been a concerted and successful effort to repopulate the oceans of earth with every species of cetacean for which humans had clonable material. It was a success due to the fact that the Humpbacks themselves carried forward to our time something called, in human short hand, The History of the People. It amounts to a Song cycle that is part learned, part racial memory, and it contains information about all the languages and cultures of the Cetacean people. The cycle takes..." Spoke paused, translating an exact figure into an idiom..."upwards of three months continuous singing to complete, a unique form of oral history in the known galaxy. The Cetaceans also received a great deal of help, intellectual and cultural, from the Probe.

There is now a thriving population of Humpback, Grey, Blue, Narwhal, Beluga and Orca, various dolphins and porpoises... actually 14 species of cetacean, with several more in the planning stages."

"That's fabulous, Spock! A reversed extinction? Are many of the Cetaceans intelligent?"

"They are all intelligent in varying degrees, Jim, though it is very difficult for land-based creatures such as humans to understand them. Their view of the world, of time, of space, is very different to ours.

Humans are trying to set up long term missions, and to translate the History of the People, among various other tasks. There is a demand for researchers and liaisons, however only telepathic people can learn anything more difficult than the first or second level of the cetacean languages. Because of that there are no means of translating the more intricate nuances and advanced structures of the Song. There are simply no terrestrial equivalents to the way whales think."

"No, how could there be?" Jim finished his coffee and nodded. "Sounds like your kind of job alright.

Difficult, intricate, using all your skills, and extremely long term. You'd work directly with the humpbacks?"

Spock agreed. "The job description is 'Cetacean Partner', and they are desperate for telepaths, especially ones with a background in marine sciences, alien first-contacts or diplomacy." He carefully refilled his partner's mug before continuing. "There is also a shortage of licenced sail captains on earth.

Those with the necessary temperaments tend to go to space, and the Cetaceans, except for the dolphin and porpoise groups, refuse to even approach powered vessels of any kind. Would you consider a second lifetime as the Captain of a research and exploration vessel, Jim?"

Jim's mouth fell open, and he shut it with a snap.

"Spock! A real sailing ship? How big? What sort of compliment? Where?"

"I do not know. I have researched several possibilities. I take it the proposal is not entirely unfavourable to you?"

A wave of almost sexual heat passed over Jim as he tried to wrap his mind around the possibility. A sail captain, his own ship, the deep wide ocean, Spock at his side again doing important, daring, exciting work.

//I'm thinking that you're the one in inappropriate clothing, lover//

//ah. then it meets with your approval. when we get to Earth we will do a little research to discover the best means of accomplishing this goal.//

*

Picard kept his gaze neutral as the pair walked into the briefing room and settled side by side in the midst of his senior officers. There was nothing to see on the Vulcan's stern face, but his movements were... different, somehow. Looser. Not languid, as he'd been after the Pon Farr, but calm and and contained, as opposed to severely curtailed. A contented Vulcan.

Kirk, on the other hand, was a perfect picture of the well-laid human-in-love. His face glowed, his eyes were bright and smiling, and his body language was flagrantly flirting with the Vulcan beside him.

Little glances, little motions. There was no closet big enough to hold him any longer, Picard decided.

He glanced at Troi and almost smiled. She was nearly trembling, and that must be just at Kirk's emotions.

The Vulcan would be shielded. Picard decided to make it quick. "We're finished with the business of the day, gentlemen, and you have the floor. I take it you've made a decision about returning to Earth?"

Kirk glanced at Spock, and their old dynamic kicked in at once. Spock folded his hands and sat back, and Jim leaned forward to reply. Spock the observer, Kirk, the speaker-to-humans. "We have. We've decided to go back, and we're ready at any time."

Riker broke into a smile. "That's great. StarFleet is lucky to have you."

"You misunderstand me, Commander. Spock and I are not returning to StarFleet. This lifetime it's Spock's turn to pick our job, and he's found one we'll both enjoy." He briefly outlined their plans, and Picard had to admit a little twinge of envy. Riker looked stunned.

"You would... leave space? You were the best Captain the Fleet had, in your day. How can you give it up?"

"Commander Riker," Picard began, but Kirk shook his head.

"It's alright, Captain. Commander, I don't expect you to understand my motivations, but I'm willing to explain. Despite present appearances, I'm an old man.

I gave my life to StarFleet, literally, and so did Spock. That meant giving up peace, and love, and the life of a family. And since I died, all of my family except Spock is lost to me." He paused and glanced around the table, but saw nothing but interest. "This new endeavor is exciting, it provides everything that my old Enterprise did; adventure, valuable work, a worthy command. But on a scale that will admit the things I gave up last time. Peace, love. My family is small, but I don't want to have to ignore him anymore." He looked at Spock, then back at Riker. "I don't feel I have any debts to pay to StarFleet, or to anyone, except perhaps to my partner. And he to me."

Spock nodded once, sharply, conveying approval of the explanation and whole-hearted acceptance of the plan.

Picard tugged on the front of his tunic and glanced at Data. "Commander Data, what is our estimate arrival time at StarBase One?"

"If we continue present course and speed, 14.5 days.

If we go directly, just under 5 days."

"My orders are elastic, gentlemen. If you are sure of your plans, I am authorized... in fact, I am encouraged to interupt this patrol and return immediately to earth."

"I wonder if that authorization will change if we notify StarFleet of our lack of interest in their offer of commission." Kirk grinned widely. "Let's not tell them for a couple days. Is that possible? Let them think we're still mulling it over."

"I doubt they'll believe Mr. Spock requires much 'mulling' time, but I agree. I'll be available to contact them at your discretion, gentlemen, whenever you like, though as StarFleet's representative here, I would like to give them 24 hours or so notice." He nodded and stood up. "Right, let's get back to work, shall we? You all have your orders. Commander Riker, take the conn and have our course altered, shortest route back to Earth. Jim, Spock, would you join me for lunch?"

End part one.

The homecoming was worse than Jim had imagined. They had their showdown with Fleet, refusing to turn themselves into a public service announcement for the funding and recruitment people. Fleet had countered by saying that as Kirk hadn't died, he was technically not released from duty. Spock had coolly conceded that such an argument could be made, and request the account information, investment strategy and rate of interest on the 90 years of back pay Kirk was due.

Fleet backed down.

They'd knew that to get any peace they'd need to give a press conference, and it was held as soon as the three - Kirk, Spock and Picard - had beamed down to San Fransisco. Kirk made a short, cheerful statement, without actually saying anything, Picard made a longer, technical statement about the Nexus and the Continuum, and Spock declined to make any comment.

It wasn't the press conference, or the strange awe in the eyes of the people. It was that it *wouldn't go away*....

They leased a suite at the Bay Hilton and it became a virtual prison for Jim. Spock's Vulcan reserve afforded him some measure of security and privacy when he left the building, but Jim couldn't set foot out of doors without being mobbed. Crowds surrounded the front entrance of the hotel day and night. The ensuite transporter was no help -- it seemed that there were no places on Earth that James T. Kirk was not looked upon as some sort of holy relic. He was horrified to find his mother's farm turned into a museum and shrine, stunned by the statue to him in his favourite quad of the Academy, and overwhelmed by the bizarre adoration every time he ventured out to sightsee or shop.

"I'm going to go nuts, Spock. Why won't they leave me alone?" He lay back in the bathtub, his Vulcan making a backrest for him. The long, thin arms crossed over his chest and Jim held them tightly, relaxing into the heat of the water. It felt just slightly warmer than the heat of the Vulcan.//Aren't you cold, love?// //You are a sufficient blanket// "I can't have much of a life with all the grabbing and staring..."

"You've returned from the dead. You are youthful again. Humans are hoping that it is contagious."

Jim gave a snort of laughter and water splashed up the side of the tub. "Yeah. They think they can catch a Q's sympathy? All the more reason for us to get onto a ship as soon as we can."

"I have tracked down several possible vessels." After days of researching the ships available to the Deep Ocean Research Group, they had rejected all of them as already captained, too small, or in the wrong field of research. They had decided to purchase their own vessel, provision it, and then lease it at cost to DOR Group, paying for crew themselves. Kirk had originally objected, but after a review of Spock's finances and investments he realized that they could fully support such a venture for 20 lifetimes, never accept another credit from anyone, and end up almost as wealthy as they were now. The appeal of hiring his own crew won, and he was becoming used to the notion that he and Spock were unbelievably wealthy. "Two are in Asia, and require some rebuilding, however your criterion of 20 meters or longer, the draft and beam requirements, and the schooner rigged preference are all met, as well as your stipulated living quarters...."

Jim twisted around. The vague sort of trailing off was not like his husband. //Spock? what's wrong?//

The angular face looked almost shy. Spock bent and kissed Jim's forehead, than continued, more slowly.

"One vessel in particular interested me. The 'CloudDance'. It was a sail race replica, lately a recreational vessel until the owner died, ten years ago. It is drydocked in Vancouver. It is a bit more ship than you asked for, 29 metres, but rigged as you requested. A two masted schooner, though without square sails.."

"Topsails, you mean?"

Spock pondered. "It has the gaffs near the top of the masts, and there are sails above that, but they're not square in design."

"That's okay. Those are for the main top and the fore top. I don't need square sails to make me a happy captain. Though a square rigged foremast would make for a slightly less slanted vessel for the researchers... *What* is it, Spock? You're green!"

Spock shifted. "It... has a four room Captain's stateroom in the rear of the vessel, with its own head, as well as a large general office and lounge area in the center, and quarters for up to 22 other people."

"It would need it. I wouldn't want to run a ship that size with less than a three person crew on each watch, not with 29 metres and that much sail. You'd need the whole crew to move all the sail in a hurry... But why 4 rooms, Spock? We only really need a bedroom and your office, though I like the idea of a private head."

Spock shifted in the tub, and his eyes slide sideways.

"I had thought we might want to have a child on board."

Jim sat up and turned around, staring. "You have a child? Why didn't you tell me?"

"No, no! I do not have a child." Spock flushed greener and met Jim's eyes. "I was hoping to raise your child on board. Yours and mine."

Jim felt all the air go out of his lungs in a whoosh.

"Ours? You want to... we could... Ours?"

"Yes. If you approve."

Jim's answer was to drop back, belly down, onto his husband, hands grasping Spock's head, his mouth devouring the Vulcan's. Spock let his hands roam over the smooth back and ass, stroking, feeling Jim's almost instant erection pressing up against his groin.

//I take it the idea does not totally dismay you.//

In answer Jim groaned into his mouth and pressed harder against him. //god! it's embarrassing, who'd have thought I'd find the idea of having children so sexy? am I a pervert, to find the thought exciting?//

//it is the usual way of getting them. I believe this physiological response is quite within human norms,// Spock replied, letting his stroking turn into a deep, sensual massage//however I must point out that for you and I it will not be quite this simple//

Jim laughed helplessly, and ended up licking Spock's neck. //let's go and see this 'CloudDance' then.

let's have a child// "God, Spock, it would be fun to bring up your child!"

Spock didn't voice his opinion about the 'fun' of childrearing, instead taking full advantage of his lover's mood and shifting them around in the tub so that he could lift Jim out. "We will. But first we will spend a few minutes in the bedroom, I think."

"More than a few, please," Jim demanded, as his feet hit the floor. Spock took him in his arms and kissed him thoroughly. //yes. more than a few//

They didn't manage to leave the Hilton that night, but neither minded.

Jim stood quiet, hands in the pockets of his heavily lined leather jacket. Beside him Spock puffed foggy condensation into the cool air, wrapped tightly in a grey down parka. A black watch cap, a gift from Jim, was snugged down low on his brow. It was just past dawn on a Vancouver September day that was uncharacteristically cold and dry and clear.

"What do you think, Spock?" He paced slowly around the boatyard, staring up at the huge sailing vessel.

It was sitting up on wooden pilings, the keel resting lightly on the hard, frosty ground. The paint was flaked in places, peeling, but the hull appeared sound, with none of the soft rot he had worried about.

Spock followed beside him.

"The times we sailed before, I was involved in other aspects of the voyage. I am unfamiliar with this technology, Jim. I have no way of estimating its condition."

"Her. She. Boats are female, Spock, remember?" Jim moved in close to the hull and ran a hand over it. "We need to get aboard."

"You gonna buy her?" A female voice from overhead.

Both men looked up to see a ragged mop of brown curls atop a pale, freckled face. "Hi. I'm Demrun. Demrun Illiana Shastakovisht. Call me Demi. You gonna buy CloudDance?"

"We don't know. Can you tell us anything about her condition? Do you work here?"

The face disappeared, and a moment later the young woman was sliding down the steep ladder to the ground.

She looked about 20, Kirk guessed. "Yeah, I work here. If you buy her, you'll need crew? I'm a good sailor. I'd like to sign on."

Spock cleared his throat. "Such requests are premature, Demrun. You do not know us. We do not know you. We do not yet know if we intend to purchase this vessel, and you do not know that we will need crew."

Demrun stared at him, then her bright blue eyes blinked. "I'm sorry, staring is rude. I've never met an alien before. You're Vulcan, aren't you?"

"My name is Spock. This is Jim Kirk. Can you tell us anything about this vessel's condition?"

Kirk's relief was huge when the young woman showed no interest or awe at either of their names. "She's sound, is CloudDance. Stripped down to the hull, but sound. If she were mine I'd have her cleaned, sanded and painted. She needs both masts replaced, and I'd not go sentimental. I'd ditch the wooden masts and use good aluminum ones. The mainmast is cracked clear through. I'd replace the booms to match. The jibbooms are okay, but I'd go with aluminum gaffs for the top sails as well... to keep it looking nice.

Most of her lines and sheets were improperly stored when she came here, and have rotted. She's a sailing replica, but unless you want a museum piece I'd replace her winches with powered ones, unless you want to pay a full crew full time. Her galley's gutted, it wants a stove and fridge both. What use would you be putting her to?"

"A research vessel. Whales." Kirk replied. He was damned if he'd ever put an aluminum mast on this beauty. Might as well graft skunk cabbage to a rose.

"The Blowfolk! Now I know I want to sign on!"

"Blowfolk?" Jim blinked. "I like it, but what do the Cetaceans think? It sounds pejorative."

"It's a translation of one of their own collective names for themselves, Jim," Spock responded. "There is a certain mysticism around their need to surface to breath, something that is unique among the ocean dwelling creatures. The fact that intelligence resides only among marine mammals in these oceans did not escape their view, and the early cetaceans..."

"Spock?"

"Yes Jim?"

"Later, please. I'd like to learn more about the ship right now." He felt Spock's acceptance and turned back to Demrun. "What else will she need, specific to a research vessel?"

"You'd want a power generator. There's good ones out now that take almost no space. Put in solars and a wind genny for back-ups, and even old-style batteries.

Wire the cabins for terminals. I'd install soundproofing as well, so your crew don't keep your scientists awake. Refinish the decks and add a drop platform on the stern to get to the water. You'd need a full set of sails, hers were ruined by exposure. A marine communicator. Three or four weeks, she could be sailing again." Demrun blinked. "She's an old beauty. Care to come up and have a look?"

They poked around the huge ship for a couple of hours, Spock watching as Jim and Demrun opened every locker, checked every cabin, climbed into the bilge and inspected the engines. Climbed up into the rigging and checked the gaffs. Operated every winch, inspected the plumbing. Poked a finger through every belay pin hole and rubbed the tarnish off a few cleats. Jim was getting more and more excited, passing litte snippets back to Spock through the bond.

//I think she'll do, Spock. I really do think this is the ship for me.//

"Ms. Shastakovisht, would you allow Jim and I a few minutes privacy." The woman vanished onto the deck, and they heard her going down the ladder. "Tell me again how you see people fitting into this space."

Jim outlined his ideas about where to house crew and researchers while Spock paced down the centre of the ship and looked again into all the rooms. He came back to Jim and passed him, and walked into the aft suite. Entered what would be his office. From there one door led aft and one to port. All four rooms were connected, with the small head, only a toilet and sink, between the two back rooms... he paced slowly back out and found Jim had gone above. //love?// A momentary pause, then Jim's thought came back, shy.

//I was afraid that if I followed you back there I'd want to christen the ship// Spock caught a hint of his meaning and felt his groin stir warmly. He climbed the short ladder to the deck and kissed Jim thoroughly.

"Let us negotiate."

end of part two

James T. Kirk, popular icon, reviewed his mate's position and his own so that he wouldn't have to think once the call was placed, then stabbed the appropriate buttons on the terminal. He was amused, and then astonished, when there was no answer after 20 seconds.

After 40 seconds he was reaching for the disconnect when he was answered.

A woman, dripping wet and still swinging into position, glared at the camera. "What?" Impossible to guess her hair colour, soaking wet. She looked Hawaiian, harrassed, and impatient.

"I'm looking for Doctor Trip, of the Deep Ocean..."

"Research Group. Yeah. What is it?"

"I heard you were looking for licenced sail captains.

My name is Jim Kirk, I hold a valid maritime licence, sail, to 50 metres. I'm..."

"You lookin' for a job? Get your ass to Lahaina. We can only pay scale 14 days out, time and a half for the next 3 weeks, double after up to 9 weeks. You're hired if your credentials prove out. Now I'm busy."

"Dr. Trip? I've also got a partner, a telepath with a degree in... well, a few degrees in marine things.

Biology, sociology, stuff like that. We're a team, and we have a proposition for you."

"Yeah?" The bloodshot eyes steadied. "I have a dolphin giving birth to twins in my pool. Make it good."

"Spock and I have..."

The face changed. "Spock? *Spock*? You're *that* Jim Kirk?" The woman sat down abruptly. "Shit, sorry.

What was your proposal? Did you say you're licenced to 15 metres?"

"50. Five Zero metres. And I have a ship."

The dark face creased into a broad grin. "I'm Iowa Trip, and my momma was your biggest fan, so don't you dare ask how I got that name. You have an audience, Captain Kirk. Fill me in."

When Jim disconnected he had a smile hidden deep inside. He checked on Spock's whereabouts, and found him at Federation HQ finalizing his demobilization from DiploCorp. Sent him a little wordless pulse of love, stared around the suite, and then began to pack.

"I don't get it, Jim." Demi thrust one hand through her curls and shook her head. They were standing at the window of the office which the shipbroker had let them use, staring at the line of people outside the one-way glass. "I would have thought you couldn't find two sailors to rub together anymore, not in this town anyway."

It was three weeks later, and CloudDance was now bobbing gently at the dock as her refit continued.

Cold September had evolved into a cool, rainy October, and Spock was wearing his silk longjohns. They'd advertised for crew yesterday, and though it was barely mid-morning the line-up of people to apply for jobs aboard CloudDance now numbered almost 300. Kirk shook his head. "The problem is celebrity, Demi."

"Geez, Jimbo!" Demi sighed. "I knew you guys were famous, but I didn't know you were *that* famous. All this time, I could'a been selling your autographs on the side."

Kirk grinned. He really liked this outspoken little woman. She'd accepted his wooden masts and booms with resignation, then gone out and hunted up two antique metal coins to set under the masts before they were stepped. "Spock? Any ideas?"

Spock looked up from the DORGroup contract. "Set a high minimum standard, Jim."

"Oy! Such a wise guy you are." Jim slapped his forehead. "Demi, will you go out there and tell the crowd that unless they have 3 years sailing experience in a professional capacity, a working knowledge of bottlenose basic or other cetacean basic, and can sew sail, they can go home now?"

Demi stared back. "By telling me to go out there you're asking me to work for you, Jim. I'm hired, then?"

"Do you meet the qualifications?"

"No. So go tell them yourself."

Jim drew in a breath to argue, but Spock intervened.

"What are your qualifications, Ms. Shastakovisht?"

Demi tossed her curls and considered. "I've been sailing since before I was born, I can navigate by the stars, sun and sextant, and I'm a weather witch.

Plus, as you've seen, I can rebuild her from the inside out."

//witch?// Jim heard all of Spock's vulcan training in the rebuttal, and took a breath. //wait, Spock.

it's not as illogical as it sounds. some folks just know//

"Scale."

"Jim! That's in insult. Scale plus one week bonus for every eight weeks out."

"Scale plus one week bonus for every twelve weeks out."

"Ten."

"Done, if you understand any basic cetacean language within one month. Otherwise, twelve. Six month contract, subject to review."

Demi considered, then held out her hand and Jim shook it solemnly. "I'll be right back, Captain."

Demrun slipped out the door and made her announcement to the crowd, adding that Mr. Spock and Mr. Kirk wouldn't be in town for several days to conclude the interviews. Both men watched, astonished, as 75% of the applicants stumped away. Demi hurried back in and grinned. "Per your orders, *Captain*."

Jim smiled. "Ready for the first one, then. Though he doesn't look like a sailor."

Both eyed the rumpled, ragged man who stood silently and motionless at the head of the line. "No, Captain, but he's been here since the announcement came out.

He slept on the ground last night." Demi paused. "If he's qualified, he's also patient."

"Send him in."

Kirk sat at the desk, and Spock took a chair behind him. The man shuffled in and Demi closed the door behind him. Kirk waited a moment, then said, "Qualifications?"

"Well, I don't have any that the young lady asked about." Kirk sighed, and the man twisted his shirt front. "I've been on the water since I was born, though in canoes, sir. My clan uses the water like white people use groundcars. I'm from the Haida/Tsimshian protected area. I'd like to apply as ship's cook. I can whip up a gourmet meal on a campfire in a hurricane force wind. I'm a qualified chef, sir, and worked at the RainForest until my wife died."

Kirk's eyes widened. The RainForest was an internationally famous restaurant. He fondly remembered a meal there with Spock. "Why did you quit?"

The man met his eyes openly. "My wife and I started that restaurant together. After she was gone, I didn't have the heart to keep on. I sold my share.

I've been grieving long enough though, and I'd like to work again. I'm brother to Orca, through my clan. It seemed right to come here."

Kirk sighed. "Understand any Cetacean language?"

"No. Not the spoken stuff, though I've recognized brethren in several pods in this area. I was hoping that if I could cook on a research boat I could learn to say hello to them."

Kirk didn't understand that. He was about to dismiss the man, when Spock leaned forward. "What is your name?"

"I'm called Daniel Fishing Raven, Raven clan, of Kitsault. Most people call me Dan, or Raven." Spock took out his wallet and handed 40 credits to the man, who looked back at him stolidly.

"Tell me,"Spock said, "what will you do if we don't hire you?"

"Go home. Back to Kitsault. Help my sisters raise their children. My grief journey is over. But what is happening with my deep water brethren excites me.

My people had to live without their brothers for too long. Now that the white fella's are trying to fix their mistake, I want to help."

"There is a rudimentary kitchen behind this office, Raven," Spock said. "We would like lunch in one hour, no animal products."

Raven stared at the money, then up at Spock. "Yes."

He walked out, and Jim turned to Spock. "Intuition?"

"I have studied his culture. There is evidence that his people spoke basic Orca, thousands of years ago.

I appreciate the way he speaks of the Blowfolk. I want that man on board our ship."

By the time Raven called them for lunch they had hired a skeleton crew of 7 for the boat, enough to get them all to Hawaii with their sanity intact. Besides Raven there were two couples; Kim and Andros, and Sue and Marion. Demrun was signed on, and two singles, Michael and Jon. Kirk decided to leave it at that, hoping to pick up more qualified crew in Hawaii. They were still a week away from sailing, and Kirk knew better than anyone that anything could happen.

"They're calling it the queer ship, but they mean it in a friendly way," Demi said, standing back from the chart table as Kirk thumbed through heavy wad of maritime charts. He preferred the old paper variety and used his terminal system only to check his work.

"Because we've got 7 gays out of 10 people."

"Seven?" Kirk glanced up ."Who's the seventh? You?"

"Me? Naw. Michael. Shame, too, he's gorgeous. No, Raven, Jon and I are severely outnumbered, but they don't seem to mind."

"You'd better not mind either, Demi. These are your crewmates - you'd better not mind if they're straight, gay, human, klingon or little green frogs."

"I've never met a Klingon." She turned as Spock came down the gangway. "Good morning, sir."

"Ms. Shastakovitsh." Demi sighed -- she was running a loosing battle to get Spock to call her Demi. "Jim, the drafts from the Bank of NewOrleans have arrived.

I have signed them, but your signature is also required to complete the not-for-profit accounts. I left them in the office. The crowds around the marina security gates appear to have gone, so you should have no difficulty."

"Thanks, love." Spock gazed at Jim, who was dressed only in loose cotton pants and a sleeveless undershirt. He sent a wordless image of himself running his hands under that shirt, and Jim looked up with a jerk, blushing. "Uh, Demi, excuse us for a couple of minutes. Spock, may I see you in our quarters?"

"Certainly, Jim."

The bedroom door was barely closed behind them, Jim carefully flipping the switch on the newly installed soundproofing, when the Vulcan was lifting him off his feet and carrying him to the bed. //you've been insatiable since we started sleeping on board// //I have been insatiable since I saw you standing in the shuttle bay of the enterprise. though I find the motion of the ship... suggestive// Spock stripped off his clothing and knelt on the wide bed, running his hands over the cloth of Jim's shirt. //I want you inside me, James//

Jim's heart gave a thud, and he nodded. "I'd like that." He sat up and started to peel off his shirt, but Spock lifted a hand.

"Leave it on." Through their bond Jim felt the Vulcan's urgency. He grinned, then rolled over and reached for the lube from the drawer of the night table. Pulled his pants down just below his thighs.

He got to his knees and carefully lubed his stiff cock, then turned his attention to his mate. Spock was on his back, knees up. Jim used one hand to slide lube over the tight anus, the other to gently stroke the slippery gel over the straining double-ridged cock. Spock's eyes closed at the competing sensations and he began to moan softly.

"Watching you work, here, in your element. It makes me so excited that I do not wish to wait for bedtime..."

Jim chuckled. "Always ask, love. I'll most often be happy to oblige."

//we'd never be out of bed, James.// Jim positioned himself carefully, guided his cock into the tight, hot ass. Spock arched and gasped, and Jim pressed ahead, gently stroking his love's cock with one hand while the other held his weight.

He began to thrust, Spock's tremendous excitement building his own. That he could do this to the controlled Vulcan, could bring him to the point of asking for this in the middle of a work day, astonished him. Spock's hands were running over his chest under his shirt, just as in the vision he'd sent. Jim closed his eyes and milked the cock in his hand in time with his own thrusts. Within a very few minutes he could feel Spock's scrotum tighten. Spock made a noise as if he were strangling, and Jim fell over the cliff with him, body heaving, shouting Spock's name.

He sagged over the hard chest, holding some of his weight off Spock with one arm, head falling as his heart slowly calmed. Spock was still, sprawled beneath him, eyes closed. Jim leaned up and kissed his nose, and the black eyes opened in surprise. //just felt like it// Jim admitted. Spock smiled.

"That was exactly what I required, James."

"The fuck, or the kiss on the nose?"

Spock shook his head, refusing to answer. Jim kissed him again, this time on the mouth, then sat up. "Lord, you are wonderful, Spock. Lie still, I'll bring you a towel."

He paced to the bathroom, pulling off his stained trousers and sweaty shirt and tossing them on the floor. "We'll need to get some kind of cabin steward for the ship, once we're in Hawaii. Too much laundry and cleaning for our regular crew to be asked to do, even with sonic we put in."

Spock snorted, and Jim poked his head back into the room. Spock raised an eyebrow at him. "Unless I allow you time to take off your cloths before we make love, of course."

Jim grinned. "Of course. But then there's always the sheets."

End of part three

"Captain Kirk?" Jim was standing on the dock, looking over the ship with satisfaction. They were done, ready to go, and the weather was looking fair for an early departure in the morning. The deep female voice startled him out of his daydreaming, and he turned.

"Yes?" A forty-ish woman, long blond hair shot with grey tied in a neat braid. Her face was tanned and lined, and she looked solidly muscular. Outdoorsy, Kirk decided. Dressed in faded blue denim and carrying a tiny tan-coloured cat. Siamese cross, Kirk decided. "What can I do for you?"

"Is it true she's all crewed?" There was a wistful quality in the faded blue eyes and rough voice.

"We hired the crew a week ago. You're a sailor?"

She nodded. "My name's Keri Murphy, but folks call me North. I sailed CloudDance into this harbour ten years ago, when old Bert died and they had to drydock her. She's sure looking sleek today."

Kirk studied her again, and smiled. "Thanks. Why didn't you come when we advertised the jobs?"

"I was in Alaska," she replied, then grinned.

"North. I've been running a line of crab pots up there for five years. Not lucrative enough to afford transporter time, or even airfare. By the time I heard you were hiring and hitched a ride down, you were crewed." She looked down at the little cat, and held it up. "Thought you might need one of these."

"You brought a cat for us?"

"For CloudDance. We always had a cat aboard. This one's mother was a hell of a good mouser. She's three months old. Name's Arnold."

"Arnold?" Jim took the little cat and it settled into his arms contentedly. "Funny name for a girl cat."

"Yeah, but she's a funny little cat. She's yours, if you want her. I gave her a little sleepy pill this morning so that I could carry her off the boat without scaring her. She's never lived on dry land."

"You licenced?"

"Sure, I've got my captain's papers. But I'm not a good captain. I'm a great first mate though." She looked up at the tall masts. "Lord, she looks good.

You're taking her to Hawaii?"

"For a start. Though I think we'll be moving around quite a lot, following the humpback migration. You interested in whales?"

"Don't know much about them. I like porpoises, though. I can understand their basic talk, enough to follow directions or avoid their food sources." She scuffed a foot on the dock, then bent down automatically, picked up a splinter of wood and dropped it over the edge of the dock. "Blowfolk know a lot about the weather, like they can feel the pressure dropping or something. I've got a good weather sense, but you can't beat a porpoise for knowing when to find a safe harbour."

They stood in silence for a few minutes, looking at the ship. Kirk took a long, slow breath. "I need a first mate, but I'd never hire anyone without my partner's say-so. He's got a sixth sense about people. He's onboard, the aft door behind the gangway. If he says you're hired, the job's yours.

His name is Spock."

She stuck out her hand and he carefully shifted Arnold's weight, then shook North's hand, pleased by the strength of her grip and the calloused palm.

Without another word she vaulted aboard and slipped down the gangway. Jim touched his mate's mind, still stroking the sleepy little cat.

Spock looked up at the brisk knock on his door, and stared at the stranger. He didn't move to accept the hand she held out as she said "I'm North, sir, and the Captain told me to introduce myself and tell you I've applied for the position of first mate."

The Vulcan's eyebrow climbed high, and he blinked.

"Ms. North, Vulcan's do not shake hands. We are touch telepaths, and avoid casual contact that might transfer unwanted thoughts and emotions."

She let her hand fall. "I didn't know. Or, perhaps I did know, it's just so automatic to offer to shake hands when I meet a stranger. I hope I didn't offend you."

Spock considered. "Did Jim presume that I would know anything about your qualifications?"

"I don't think so, sir. I think he was satisfied with my qualifications. He said that he wanted your say-so before he hired me."

"Ah." Spock felt nothing but calm competence from the woman. "Raven is our quartermaster. He should be in the galley at this time. He will assign you a berth." He turned back to his work, and after a moment he heard the woman walk away, but instead of going to the galley she went back up the gangway. Spock stood and listened, having rightly assumed that the woman would be ignorant of the keenness of Vulcan hearing.

"Sir? Captain Kirk?" The voice sounded uncertain.

"North? If he said no, I'm afraid that's my answer too."

"Un.... no, I think he said yes. He told me to see Raven. But... uh, is he always like that? I don't think he liked me, sir. I don't know if I ought to accept a job where there might be friction."

Jim's low laugh. "If he didn't like you, North, he wouldn't have told you to see Raven. Yes, he's always like that. He is reserved, quiet and not very sociable. He's also brilliant, unflaggingly kind, and he's Vulcan. Don't worry just because you'll never get any small talk out of him. No one gets any small talk out of him." A moment of silence. "Demi. Hi.

Tell North what you think about Spock."

"I think Spock will *never* call me Demi," she grieved, her voice growing louder as footsteps sounded on the dock. "I think he's adorable."

Spock felt his ears turning green. Adorable! That little woman thought he was... Jim's bellow of laughter made him smile.

"Well, then... I accept the job, Captain. Thanks."

"Welcome aboard, North. Demrun, meet the new first mate. Mr. North, crewman Demi. And this is our new pest control officer, Arnold. Take them aboard and introduce them to Raven, would you, Dem?"

Spock ducked back into his cabin and was studiously reviewing his papers again when the two women clattered down the gangway. He said, without looking up, "Demi, would you ask Raven to brew me a cup of tea."

Demi stopped cold. Spock could feel the heat of her delighted gaze. But all she said was "Sure." She turned away and North followed her.

"Mr. North." They paused again. Spock looked up.

"Welcome aboard."

"Thank you, sir." She smiled. "Thanks a lot."

*

Jim woke in the dark before dawn and glanced at the chrono. 0620. Spock was breathing evenly and deeply beside him, one arm thrown over Jim's chest. Jim listened to the sound for a moment, and to the ship; she creaked a bit, and there was a faint watery sound that was the tide running against her hull and the slapping of little waves. He began to disentangle himself from the Vulcan, but Spock shifted and pulled him close, his breathing changing.

"I want to see the sunrise, Spock," he said softly.

Spock's hand roamed down to his belly, and began to stroke his cock lightly.

"You have 23.5 minutes. I will not let you miss it." Jim groaned as the petting became serious, and turned into it to reciprocate. He teased the Vulcan's nipples with his fingertips, and moved closer to capture his mouth. Spock released his cock then and fastened his hands on Jim's hips, pulling him tightly against his own crotch.

They moved slowly, langorous still with sleep, cock against cock and mouths devouring each other. It didn't take long - Jim began to thrust hard and eagerly, his precum making both men slick. Spock gasped at the increased pressure and sank his hands into Jim's ass muscles, squeezing. Jim shouted and lost his rythmn, then convulsed against the Vulcan.

The feel of the human's cock jerking against him pushed Spock to his own orgasm, and the two clung to each other, panting.

"You now have 10.25 minutes until sunrise," Spock offered, when his pulse had slowed. He kissed Jim and rolled away, releasing him.

Jim laughed and slid off of the bed. He washed down hurriedly and pulled on trousers, socks and a warm flannel shirt, then his boots and jacket, and hurried on deck.

It was still dark, but the sky in the east had cooled to pale yellow. Jim surveyed the calm morning, feeling rising excitement that today, for the first time in a long time, he would truly be the Captain of his own ship. Arnold wound around his ankles, butted his shin once with her little head, then stalked away toward the bow. Jim breathed the fresh air, listening as people began to stir below him. A lick of wind kissed his cheek.

Spock padded up beside him, and handed him a steaming mug of coffee. He took it in silence, and they stood together, facing east, as the orange rim of the sun peeked up over the city, and light flooded the world again. Demi scampered on deck and handed each of them a bowl of porridge, taking their mugs back down for refills. Kim and Andros appeared and swarmed up into the rigging to check the fore and main tops. Five minutes later North came yawning on deck, smiled at them, and began to check the lines. Mike followed and stood beside Jim.

"A fair day for it, Captain."

Jim nodded. A news crew appeared on the dock, holovid running. Jim and Spock handed their bowls back to Demi, and Jim took his refilled coffee from her. He glanced at his wrist chrono. //0730. the tide is right, love. ready to go?// //ready// "Let's do it." He held Spock's gaze for a moment, then swung away.

"North!"

"Sir!"

"All hands on deck! Prepare to make way!"

"Aye, aye, Captain!" She turned and bellowed down the hatchway. "All hands on deck. Prepare to make sail!

Demi, on the dock forward lines. Michael, secure the deck. Jon, on the dock, aft lines! Let go the spring lines! Sail hands on deck! Top hands aloft!"

There was the wonderful organized scurry of preparations, the tension of making a good departure from a dock in a light wind. Jim stepped up to the wheel and handed his coffee to Raven, who'd come on deck for the occassion. Cleaned up, shaven and in new clothes, he looked like a different man.

Kirk grasped the wheel and nodded to North, saw her huge grin as she bellowed to raise the mainsail and the foresail. Kirk watched and listened, and thrilled to the pull of the breeze on the big ship as her mainsail unfurled, brilliant white in the sun with her IDIC proud. The ship shivered under his hands. He heard North order the bow and stern lines let go, saw Jon, then Demi, vault aboard and felt the whole ship shudder as she dipped away from the dock. The foresail unfurled flawlessly. The clatter of winches was magical.

Kirk glanced aloft, then nodded again at North. "Raise the main top! Raise the fore top!" White bloomed in huge triangles at the tops of the masts, and a cheer went up. CloudDance began to seriously pick up speed away from the dock, pushed away by the breeze.

"Jibs!" he called. Heard his order repeated toward the front of the vessel, and then felt the speed and force and glory in the wheel under his hands as the inter and outer jibs rippled off the decks, climbing, then snapping on their sheets. CloudDance was clear of the marina. He caught North's eye as he turned the wheel on course, and she understood. North was maniacal now, shouting at the crew as she trimmed the sails. He could feel her glee that the ship was coming up to the wind. "Mr. North, I want a staysail on the foremast."

"Aye aye, sir! Mike! Forward staysail!" More white sheeting rose before him. "Demi, *haul* in the outer jib! I want this baby to fly! Interjib, closer!

Closer, Jon! There!"

And CloudDance *danced*. She leaned away from the wind and heeled over to starboard, and Jim's heart threatened to pound out of his chest. //she's come alive, Spock// "Feel her, she's *alive*!"

Spock knew better than to comment, merely letting Jim feel the smile he was hiding. Jim took a dozen deep breaths, then kissed Spock suddenly and deeply, before turning to North.

"Mr. North, log us off Vancouver at 0733 pacific time, on course for Active Pass. Notify Vancouver traffic of our course and departure, and open our sail plan."

"Aye, aye, Captain." Still grinning, North swung down the gangway.

//what a second chance you've given me, Spock.//Jim felt tears prick his eyes and blinked them back, the breeze lifting his fair hair in the sun. //what a marvellous second chance//

END

Rae Trail.

Gentlefolk, I hope you like the new world I put the boys in. Stay tuned for the next installment; Amid the Great Greys.