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The Unwanted Guest

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Leonard “Bones” McCoy was just settling down after a celebratory feast on a planet which, miraculously, hadn’t blown up in their faces when they arrived several hours ago, when his worst nightmare walked into the front room of the suite that the men from the Enterprise were sharing. (Actually, it was his second-worst nightmare, but he’d had to revise the list since his real worst nightmare came true when he stumbled upon his two best friends engaged in enthusiastic and very loud sex.)

“Commissioner Ferris,” Sulu spoke, “What can we do for you?”

“I’m here to see Captain Kirk,” the man said.

McCoy corrected himself. This was his second-worst nightmare. Commissioner Ferris had already accused Kirk of obstructed command judgment due to inappropriate emotional attachment to his first officer. The court ruled that Captain Kirk had made a responsible command decision, but Starfleet had noticeably glossed over the issue of fraternization. Back when the ruling was announced, Doctor McCoy had had a feeling that Ferris would pursue the issue the next chance he got. Unfortunately, at that particular moment, he was reasonably certain that while he was dealing with his second-worst nightmare, his first worst nightmare was happening behind a single, extremely-sound-proof door. About ten minutes earlier, Jim had made some excuse about being tired, and Spock had followed him into their room. No one on the Enterprise command team had any doubts as to how Jim felt about his first officer—and Spock felt right back—but after the incident with Ferris, the two had decided to keep their relationship relatively secret from the rest of Starfleet.

Sulu hesitated. “Is there a problem?” Doctor McCoy asked.

“Not necessarily,” Ferris replied with thinly-veiled impatience.

Doctor McCoy noticed that Scotty was looking up from material readouts he’d been poring over all evening—because the Gods knew that they could use some of that extremely-sound-proof building material on the Enterprise, and not just because of her infatuated commanding officers—and he thought he heard Ensign Chekov hiccup, as he stared between the commissioner and the doctor.

“Then it can wait until morning,” the doctor told the commissioner.

Ferris seemed surprised by this answer. “I wouldn’t have thought Captain Kirk went to bed so early. It’s barely ten o’clock, ship-time.”

Leonard started quietly panicking to himself. “’Fraid so,” he said, outwardly calm.

Ferris recovered quickly. “I’m leaving very early tomorrow morning. Surely he’ll understand if I wake him momentarily. Which room is he in?” He started to walk past Leonard toward the row of doors leading to the bedrooms of the suite.

Sulu slid in front of him. “He was very tired when he went to bed, sir, and left orders not to be disturbed, sir. Can we take a message…sir?” He beamed an unconvincing smile at the visitor.

Ferris frowned. “I suppose I could leave word with his first officer, Mr. Spock, but I don’t see him here, either.”

And there it was. The gleam of suspicion in Ferris’ eye, accompanied by a smirk.

“Mr. Spock is meditating, as is customary for his people in the evenings, before going to bed,” Leonard told him, “Honestly, Commissioner, what could be so important that you’d need to wake anybody up over it? You can always comm us from your ship, if you need to.”

“It is important, Doctor,” the man told him through clenched teeth, “Because I received a message from Starfleet concerning the Enterprise’s next destination, and I aim to make sure that Captain Kirk receives this message.”

“Well, why don’t you email him? He always checks his email in the mornings before shift. Or tell our helmsman, Mr. Sulu. Go right to the source.” He gestured to the uncomfortable-looking man, who was still smiling widely.

Commissioner Ferris started to turn very white around his joints, and red everywhere else. “I must deliver this message, Doctor, and I intend to do so—tonight, and in person. Kirk has no right to this special treatment. ”

“Special treatment? What’s that got to do with the price of tea in China?” Leonard retorted, “I’m just saying let the poor man sleep.”

“Which. Room.”

The doctor, the helmsman, and the head engineer revealed nothing. The young navigation officer, however, knitted his brows and shot a glance in the direction of the door on the left.

“Aha!” yelled Ferris.

He approached the door.

Sulu started to intercept him. Leonard shook his head.

Chekov hiccupped again.

The door opened.

The sounds of passionate lovemaking—loud moans and grunts interspersed with cries of, “Jim!” and “Spock!” and occasionally, “Fuck!” along with some Vulcan that Leonard certainly couldn’t translate—erupted forth.

The commissioner did nothing.

Jim and Spock showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

The discomfort in the room reached critical level.

Doctor Leonard McCoy stepped forward and closed the door in front of Ferris’s nose, leaning against the doorframe.

“I…” Ferris said, “I… My God, I… I was right.”

“So was the verdict,” McCoy told him.

Ferris did not seem to hear him. He all but fled the room, muttering to himself something about “superior officers” and “irresponsibility.”

In his absence, the room fell silent again. Not even a hiccup breached the quiet, and there was certainly no audible sign of what was happening behind the door on the left.

Doctor McCoy sat down again. “Well,” he said, mostly to himself, “At least they were under the covers this time.”