Green-Blooded Jealousy
Among the crew of the USS Enterprise, the Bridge officers saw a disproportionate amount of action. Those privileged few, orbiting the captain like so many moons, regularly had the kind of adventures that motivated exhausted but starry-eyed cadets in Starfleet Academy to study just a little harder and to stay up just a little later.
But those officers could also be somewhat isolated by the rarefied air of the Bridge. They were usually the last ones to hear the latest gossip, even the salacious, speculative kind that tore through the rest of the ship in just a few days. There were exceptions to this rule, of course: Lieutenant Uhura was a popular social butterfly, and as chief engineer, Scotty probably heard all kinds of talk but was wise enough not to repeat any of it while he was on duty. The ship’s first officer, though, might have been the very last to hear any of it. Spock tended to ignore all but the tallest tales even when he did hear them. In typical Vulcan fashion, he dismissed anything that lacked the potential to threaten the overall morale of the crew and fortunately, nothing had fit that description this early in the voyage.
The same privilege and separation from the lower decks that put the Bridge crew out of the loop made them a favorite subject of that same gossip. Half of the women on board carried a torch for one of the senior officers, with Captain Kirk’s boyish good looks and charm making him the clear front-runner. To some ordinary crewmen, the captain and his inner circle were more like celebrities than fellow members of Starfleet.
So when two crewmen working alongside him in the lab struck up a conversation about a relatively recent rumor, Spock took notice only when one of them remarked, “Chapel? The blonde with the great legs? Damn. Some guys have all the luck.”
His companion chuckled. “Well, I don’t see your epaulets, Sharma. Everyone knows she’s been sweet on a Bridge officer for months. You think she’s going to be interested in a lab rat?”
Spock frowned, his hands going still. Under the influence of an alien virus, Christine Chapel had confessed that she was in love with him not so long ago. He remembered the encounter with crystal clarity—and he knew that it had caused her a great deal of embarrassment. But how had that translated into this supposed common knowledge? Since neither man was paying any attention to him, however, it appeared that no one had correctly guessed for which Bridge officer the head nurse had eyes. In any case, their talk had already moved on to a different topic. Spock went back to his research, putting thoughts of Christine (and her great legs—the observation had been slightly crude but accurate nonetheless) in the back of his orderly mind.
It never occurred to him to wonder about the identity of the man.
A few days later, Spock laid claim to the empty corner of a rec room for dinner and a game of chess with Jim. The chatter from a table near the door washed over him like so much white noise as he began setting up the tridimensional board. Until—
“He was with her down there, after all. On Exo III, I mean.”
Exo III. The name was enough to pique Spock’s interest. They’d found Dr. Roger Korby—or whatever had remained of him—on that desolate planet. He lifted his eyes from the chess pieces he was arranging, unconsciously tilting his head with curiosity. The speaker was an ensign whose auburn hair was almost indistinguishable from her uniform.
“I guess chivalry’s not dead,” her dark-haired companion remarked, laughing.
“Not while Captain Kirk’s alive,” agreed the redhead. “I heard that they’ve been seeing each other for months already. If that’s true, it seems like a pretty quick rebound, but well…can you blame her?”
The brunette lifted one non-committal shoulder. “He’s not really my type.”
“Sure, you say that now, but if he turned that gigawatt smile on you—”
“It’s a megawatt smile at most.”
Both of them rose from the table and headed for the door, giggling as they continued to bicker over the order of magnitude that best described the power contained within Jim Kirk’s smile, not that either girl had probably ever seen that expression for themselves.
A deafening silence accompanied the ensigns’ departure. Spock didn’t recognize his own sudden, intense agitation until he swept the board he’d just assembled off the table. He stared with astonishment first at the mess of pieces strewn across the floor, then at his offending arm, which trembled beneath his gaze.
It is not logical to envy, he reminded himself even as he wondered if that was the sensation he was experiencing.
Christine Chapel was almost nothing to Spock—maybe not even a friend. When had they ever had a real conversation? He wasn’t available, in human parlance, even if he had the time or inclination to pursue an intimate relationship. If Christine wanted companionship and comfort in the wake of losing her own fiance, she had no reason to seek those things in him. Jim, on the other hand, was an obvious choice. Was it possible that their experience on Exo III had forged a bond between them that had grown into something more?
Even if such a thing had occurred completely unbeknownst to Spock, he wondered further: their mission was still young, had he ever seen Jim carry on a romance with a crew member? Not even with Miss Rand…
“Enough. Enough!” he muttered as he knelt down to collect the scattered chessmen. It was just some talk. There was no empirical evidence that the captain was spending time with Nurse Chapel in any capacity, and he had no reason to be jealous of such a relationship if it did exist. Such a reaction was utterly irrational. It was below him. Jim was his friend, Christine his colleague.
Ordering a cup of spice tea from the food synthesizer, Spock settled back into his seat to wait for Jim.
@multirptrash