New Happy Year!!!

First Officer’s Personal Log
Stardate: 4999.3

The Enterprise is 179.33 Standard Earth days into our five year mission. Today is the traditional Earth day of New Year’s. Although the changing of the calendar has little meaning in space, the Captain agreed to the idea of celebrating New Year’s Eve with a party in Recreation Room 6. The festivities were planned through the joint efforts of Lt. Uhura, Nurse Chapel, Lt. Sulu, Ensign Chekov, and inexplicably, Dr. McCoy.

The Captain made the shipwide announcement, including the invitation that the crew wear casual clothing to the party. Appropriate decorum was requested but uniforms were not required.

The party was scheduled to begin at 19:30 and was to include food for the crew to enjoy as their evening repast. I was occupied in the science labs at the given hour and would have remained until the completion of the last experiment had the Captain not arrived to ask that I accompany him to the festivities. He was already attired in crisp black trousers and a starched white shirt neatly tucked in.

“Hey,” he said in typical greeting when he arrived at the lab door at 20:42.

“Captain,” I returned, straightening to talk to him.

“The party’s already started. Let’s go get you changed so you can come,” he said, smiling at me. It was the smile that I had witnessed him give to others, one that generally made certain he was provided what he had requested.

“I prefer to remain in the labs, sir,” I responded. My expectation that he would return alone to the festivities proved in vain.

“No way,” he said, still smiling. “You have to come. New Year’s Eve. The crew in casual clothes. You have to come see what Nyota and Christine are wearing,” he said, his voice lowering to intimate confidentiality.

“Their chosen apparel is of no interest to me.”

“That’s because you haven’t seen it,” he said, laughing. I could not fail to notice that the laughter made his eyes appear a deeper blue which I knew to be only a trick of the lighting. “Come on. At least put in an appearance. It’s good for morale.”

“Theirs,” I said, admittedly because I knew it would cause him to laugh again.

“You’ll have a good time. I promise. Your experiment can wait until morning.”

“Yes,” I conceded. I proceeded to shut down the equipment and he accompanied me back to my quarters. “I will come shortly if you wish to return to the party.”

“Nah,” he said, leaning against the edge of my desk, one hand in his pocket. “I’ll wait for you. It’s the only way I can be sure you’ll come.”

I nodded and went into the sleeping section of my quarters where I took off my uniform in exchange of black pants and a black top. When I rounded the divider, I thought I noted some additional color to his cheeks but I did not comment. “It surprises me that Dr. McCoy agreed to assist in the planning,” I said as we left my quarters.

“He said he’d help if it meant we could have real alcohol. I said that was fine. Since we’re on light patrol anyway. If we’re a little hung-over tomorrow, it’ll be fine.”

“Indeed,” I responded, entering the Recreation Room with him. It had been transformed for the celebration. The lights were dim and there were candles on all of the tables. The area before the windows was left clear for dancing. The customarily bare windows were draped with black velvet material, pulled back to still reveal the stars but creating a softening effect. The room had a glow about it that was welcoming and soothing for all the buzz of the party-goers.

“This is quite lovely,” I told the Captain. Fortunately the music was not at a decibel that would damage the hearing of any of the crew so conversation was possible.

“They did a good job,” the Captain agreed, leading me over to a table that had a “reserved” placard in the center. Already there were most members of the Command crew, all of whom greeted me upon arrival.

Nyota gave me a glass of champagne and a very light kiss on the cheek. I sat between the Captain and Ensign Chekov who was engaged in conversation with Lt. Sulu. Across the table was Dr. McCoy listening to Chief Scott.

“Vould you like something to eat?” Ensign Chekov asked me when he and Sulu were standing.

“Yes, please,” I agreed.

“I vill choose. You vill not be disappointed,” he promised me before he left, talking with Sulu and using his hands to make his points.

“You’ll only be disappointed if he forgets to come back,” the Captain said, laughing.

“Indeed. The odds are good that I will need to visit the buffet myself,” I agreed.

“You need more champagne,” the Doctor insisted, refilling my glass and the Captain’s.

“The decorations are appropriate and appealing,” I told the Doctor when he was sitting back across from us. “I was surprised to learn that you had assisted in the preparations.”

He shrugged. “You know. May as well let these over-grown teenagers have a good time.”

“You are having a good time and you know it,” the Captain said, receiving a frown in response.

“Not that I’m planning to admit to you,” he said before turning his attention to Nyota. “I’d love to dance, darlin’. Thanks for asking.” He took her hand and they went to the dance floor, soon absorbed into the small crowd already there.

“Is there a romance developing between them?” I asked the Captain because he would know if anyone did.

“Could be. I think he’s still a little gun shy. But she’d be good for him. You wouldn’t mind, would you?” he asked me.

“I would be glad for Nyota to find happiness,” I assured him. “We remain close friends even though our romance is no longer.”

“What happened between you two?” he asked as he sipped his champagne.

“A mutual parting. We love each other still. Not in the way that is required to sustain a permanent relationship.”

“I get that,” the Captain said with a nod. “So you were in love with her?”

“I was. And she with me.”

“I guess I thought you wouldn’t admit to being in love,” he said with a degree of uncertainty.

“While love is not generally acknowledged by most Vulcans, I believe it is to our collective benefit to admit it and to revere those relationships. Like the one that my father and mother had.”

“I do too,” Jim said with a nod. He chatted amiably with the crew who stopped by, accepting a plate from Sulu that was piled high with all of his favorites. Chekov provided me with a plate of those items I especially enjoy eating and they resumed their seats and their animated conversation. They seemed to be discussing the relative merits of one salad dressing over another, Pavel insisting that only blue cheese was acceptable while Hikaru voiced a strong opinion that the one called Ranch was the only true salad dressing.

“Do you have an opinion, sir?” Pavel asked me between bites of his baklava.

“Not on the relative merits of salad dressing, no,” I said. Pavel and Hikaru nodded at that. Dr. McCoy had returned and opined that I had an opinion on plenty of other subjects so it was just as well I left off salad dressings.

“What’s your favorite?” Sulu asked the Doctor.

“Mmm…balsamic vinegar,” he said.

“That’s not a traditional Southern dressing, is it, Bones?” Jim asked him.

“No. And if you’re talkin tomato sandwiches, got to be mayonnaise on white bread. None of that healthy stuff with ‘mater sandwiches still warm from the vine.”

“You grow tomato sandwiches?” Nyota asked McCoy, making him laugh.

“Sure do, little miss. Maybe I’ll take you to Georgia one day and show you.”

“I’d like that,” she agreed, smiling at him, her entire face radiant.

I traded a glance with Jim who was all smiles at their obvious happiness.

The evening progressed in much the same fashion, the crew dancing and talking, eating and enjoying the time to socialize. Despite my efforts to refuse, three times I was persuaded to dance in what were described as “line-dances.” These have proscribed steps and we were provided with a recording of how to do them, following the actions of those on the screen ensuring most of us were successful. Several of the crew seem uncertain as to which direction is right and which is left but as it is of no real consequence, I did not bother to point it out to the Captain. Had I done so, I feel certain that he would reply that so long as Chekov and Sulu know their right from their left, the others can remain uncertain.

The dancing, while regimented and somewhat childish, proved to be quite enjoyable. I was standing next to the Captain each time we began. With the progression of the steps, we would turn so that I would be behind him one quarter of the time. His natural rhythm and fluidity makes him an accomplished dancer. This fact did not surprise me and I look forward to future events at which I can study his technique.

Nyota coaxed me into dancing with her alone. She too is an exceptional dancer, and the Captain had been correct in his assessment about her attire. The dark blue dress she wore sparkled as she moved, and the opening up the side revealed her left leg in a teasing manner. I was conscious of Dr. McCoy watching as we danced, an awareness she shared.

“I really really like him,” she confided to me as we danced.

“I am glad for you both,” I told her.

“You won’t be mad if we really start to date?”

“I only want happiness for you, Nyota. I have no right to disapprove if you enter a relationship with Leonard.”

“I know,” she said, resting her head on my chest in a familiar manner. “But it could be awkward. You know, never date your friend’s ex.”

“You are referring to Leonard as my friend?” I asked her.

“Of course. You may fight all the time, but I know the truth. Inside you really are friends.”

I considered her words for a moment before nodding. “We are friends,” I decided.

“I know you are. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“I would appreciate it if you did not tell him that I have,” I said, earning a bright smile from her.

“Your secret is safe with me. But he knows it already. And it’s not just because of Jim either.”

“Because of Jim?” I repeated.

“You’ll figure it out, sugar. It’ll just take a little while,” she said with an air of mystery. As the song ended at that moment, I made no further comment, escorting her back to the table and to the chair beside Leonard.

The Captain was in the middle of talking to Christine Chapel who was paying rapt attention to every word that he said. I could not make out the topic of conversation and was content to talk with Scotty about the upgrades that Starfleet had recommended, upgrades he said he had implemented weeks ago. I did not doubt the veracity of his statement and recommended that he ask the Captain sign the orders when enough time had elapsed to have effected the upgrades.

“Capital idea, Commander. That’s just what I’ll do,” Scotty agreed, refilling all of the champagne flutes that had been emptied. Dr. McCoy attempted to stop Scotty from refilling Jim’s glass, but the Captain swatted away his hand so that Scotty could provide him the champagne.

“It’s a party, Bones. Where’s the harm in one more glass?” Jim asked, saluting Leonard with his flute.

“You’re going to be sorry tomorrow. And don’t come crying to me for a hangover hypo,” Leonard warned.

“I’m off tomorrow. I can sleep until I wake up,” Jim told Leonard. Leonard’s only response was a snort and an agreement to dance with Nyota.

“You two were awfully cozy while you were cutting up the rug,” Jim said when there was a pause in all other conversations.

“We were simply dancing,” I responded.

“Yeah. There’s dancin’. Then there’s dancin’. Y’all seemed to be doing the second kind.”

“I am sure I do not know what you mean, sir,” I told him, making him laugh.

“Refill my glass while Bones is dancin’,” he said, giving me his flute. I thought to protest then decided that it was not my place to decide for him when enough was enough.

At five minutes to midnight, Hikaru made the announcement and many of the party goes donned hats and tiaras. It was quite a festive sight although I was confused when the Captain opted for a tiara rather than a hat. Leonard shook his head and the Captain made his way to the microphone.

“Four minutes,” he announced, looking up at the shining ball suspended from the ceiling. “Everybody’s got libations?” He continued to announce the minutes until it reached 59 seconds to the hour. Many began counting down at 59 while some waited until the numbers reached 10. At exactly midnight, more corks were removed from champagne bottles, streamers and balloons descended from the netting close to the ceiling, and most everyone cheered.

“Happy New Year,” Nyota said to me, kissing me, her cheeks flushed.

“And to you,” I responded with a nod. The merriment and good wishes lasted for a seemingly excessive amount of time and although I attempted to avoid the tradition, I was the recipient of 14 kisses.

“Look at you, you hottie,” Jim said when he threaded his way through the crowd to me.

“I am no warmer than normal,” I assured him.

“No no. Lipstick,” he said, using his napkin in a failed attempt to erase the imprint of the kisses. “Not coming off. Why’d it come off their lips then?”

“An excellent question,” I agreed, going with him back to the table to resume our seats. “You have an impressive collection of colors.”

Jim shrugged, sipping his champagne. “Where’d Nones and Byota go?”

“I believe they are dancing,” I said, looking over at the dance floor where they were in fact engaged in a dance of a romantic nature.

“Mmm….nice,” he said, his cheek resting on his palm, his elbow in danger of falling off the edge of the table.

“She is happy,” I said.

“Good for her. Them. Happy is good. Not happy is ungood.”

“Indeed,” I agreed.

“Indeed,” he repeated with a nod. “You wanna dance?”

“Not at this time,” I said. I was uncertain if he was asking me to dance with him or if it was general inquiry. I felt not asking for clarification was probably in the best interest of us both. “I had thought when you permitted casual clothing that you would have worn jeans.”

“I was goin’. Then I didn.”

“What made you change your mind?” I asked.

He put one finger over his lips and said “Shhh….it’s a secret.”

“Very well,” I said.

He indicated that I should lean closer and I reluctantly complied. “Bones. Said you’d like these pants more’n my jeans,” he whispered to me.

“Dr. McCoy recommended you dress in slacks for me?” I asked, not sure he would understand the question.

“Yep,” he said with a nod. “Said Spock would preciate ‘em. Do you? Preciate em?” he asked sincerely.

“Certainly,” I said, hoping that was a safe answer.

“Good. We won’t tell Bones. He’ll get all puffy.”

“Puffed up?”

“Yeah,” he agreed with excessive nodding. “Like a pompinjay. What’s a pompinjay anyways?”

“It is a colloquium for a person overly self-enamored,” I said.

“Kay. You aren’t one. Of those. Coke-quizzms.”

“Thank you,” I responded.

“Some fink I am. Oberly self-mannered. I not. Not truly,” he assured me.

“You are not. Those who believe so are mistaken.”

“Yep. Miss Taken. All of em. You don’t fink so. Right? You don’t fink I’m a coke-quizzm.”

“I do not,” I said. “I do think that it may be time for your to retire.”

“Retire?” he said in surprise. “I’m hardly not enough old to stop Captainin’.”

“For the evening,” I amended.

“What bout the ebnin?” he asked trying to focus on me.

“I think that I should escort you back to your quarters,” I tried.

“Nopers. Party’s just getting startin up good. We’ll be more dancin. You’re a fine finely dancer. You know that, Pock?”

“You are as well,” I said, looking over at where Dr. McCoy was talking to Nyota. They were unaware of their surroundings which was understandable but an inconvenience. “Pavel,” I said when he happened by.

“Yes sir?”

“Would you tell Dr. McCoy I would like to have a word with him?”

“Right avay sir,” he said with his usual enthusiasm and hurried off to deliver the message.

“What cha want Bones for, Pock? You feelin’ illy?” Jim asked me.

“I am fine, Jim. I simply wish to speak with the Doctor.”

“You’re aren’t goin clobber im, are ya? Cause you broke off with Nota. He got dibs, right?”

“I am not going to strike the Doctor,” I told him, looking up at Leonard and Nyota when they arrived. “He has over imbibed.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Leonard said. “Will you wait here? I’ll be back as soon as I have this infant in bed.”

“Of course,” Nyota agreed, kissing him lightly before going over to talk with one of her friends.

“Can’t have infants on board ship,” Jim informed Leonard. “Gainst regs. Tell em. Pock. Tell em the regs it’s not allowed up under.”

“You’re the only infant on board,” Leonard told him, hauling the Captain to his feet. “Cone on.”

“Wait. Wait on just a minutes. Party still partyin’. Why you draggin me off?” he demanded, fists almost on his hips.

“Because you have had too much to drink. Which I warned you not to do. You don’t want to be drunk and disorderly in front of your crew, do you?” Leonard asked in a stern voice.

“Drunkly? Deorder? Me?”

“Yes you. Not very Captainly of you,” Leonard said.

“Oh. Pike be mad?”

“Yes, Admiral Pike would be mad,” Leonard agreed. “Do you want me to have to call and tell him?”

“Shhh…” Jim said, shaking his head. The movement caused him to momentarily stumble, colliding with me. “Sorry. Pock.”

“It is quite all right,” I said, helping him right himself.

“There’s no any need for you to draggin’ Chris along with this. It’s goin be our little secret. Right? Kay?”

“If you come with us, we won’t have to tell Pike,” Leonard said.

“I’ll comin. You won’t callin.”

“I won’t call,” Leonard promised, escorting the Captain out of the recreation room.

“Pock? Where’s Pock?” the Captain asked, looking over his shoulder for me. “He go callin?”

“I am right here, Jim,” I said, grasping his right elbow. Leonard already had a firm hold on Jim’s left elbow.

“Oh. Hey Pock. Bones’ says I’m too much drinkin’. You too much drinkin too?”

“I did not drink any champagne.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right right. Bulcans don’ wan alkihaul.”

“Alcohol has no effect on a Vulcan,” I clarified.

“Oh. Yeah. Right right. Are we warpin?”

“We are not at warp,” I responded.

“Then what’s it makin the ship go woosh woosh?”

“It’s not the ship. It’s your brain that’s going woosh woosh,” Leonard told him in a more gentle tone. I could hear the barely disguised laughter in his voice.

“My brain’s wooshing wooshing?”

“Yeah. It’ll stop when we get you to your quarters.”

“I oughda have a dollar,” he said, laughing at his perceived cleverness. “Get it? Dollars more than quarters.”

“We get it. It’s just not funny,” Leonard said.

“Is too so. You’re jealous cause I’m funnier than you.”

“Sure,” Leonard agreed, opening the Captain’s door. “Let’s get you undressed.”

“No no,” Jim said, shaking his head and backing away. “Not physical time again already so soonly. No no. Just did it. Pokin. Prodin. No no.”

“He did not mean to imply that it is time for your physical, Jim,” I said. “You need to undress so you can go to bed.”

“Not pokin time?”

“It is not,” I said, gently escorting him to his sleeping area. “Admiral Pike said that all Captains are to be in bed asleep by 1:00 a.m.”

“What’s it time now?” Jim asked, looking up at me from where he sat on the edge of his bed.

“It is nearly 1. I do not wish to report to him that you failed to comply with his directive.”

“No no. No failin,” Jim said, laying down and closing his eyes. “See. Complyin. Doin’ it. See?”

“I do see. I believe that you will be allowed a grace period in order to put on your pajamas.”

“You surely certain? I don wan Chris yellin. I don like Chris yellin,” he explained, opening one eye to look up at me.

“I am certain that you have the grace period. I will retrieve your pajamas while you continue to undress.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right right,” he said, sitting up enough to pull off his shirt. He then kicked off his shoes and shimmed out of his trousers.

Leonard smiled at me when I had the Captain’s pajamas. “I can’t believe you lied to him.”

“It was an effective method of ensuring he did what was necessary.”

“You still lied.”

I could only shrug at that, looking over at the Captain who seemed to be asleep already. “I will remain so that you may return to the party.”

“I know it’s no hardship on you,” Leonard laughed. “Let me know if you need me.”

“You can be certain that I will,” I said, walking with him to the door.

“Pock?”

“Yes, Jim. I am right here,” I assured him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You’re aren’t mad. Right?”

“I am not. I have no reason to be,” I said, my hand in the middle of his back.

“Kay. Good. Kay. And nobody’s tellin Pike, right right?”

“No one is telling the Admiral.”

“Kay. Good. Good,” he said, sighing. “New Happy Year, Pock.”

“New Happy Year to you as well, Jim,” I said. I am uncertain that he heard as he had already fallen to sleep.