AN: You wanna know why Safe Mode hasn't been updated? This is why. Well, this and "Close Encounters". Well, this, "Close Encounters", and muffins.

Mmmm muffins.

(Oh, and a) sorry for any OOCness—this was written for the lulz and b) any grammatical or semantic mistakes in Hercule's emails are either there on purpose or are happy accidents.)

/AN

I Once Had a Vulcan Pen Pal

Good afternoon friend,

The most of wishes to your Healths and Families and Friends. I am desiring your understanding, condensation, and trust in this utmost discrete matter. I am called Hercule Dupin, Esq., son of the high adventure Augusta Dupin, grandson of C. Dupin who held the exalted office Treasurer To Nigeria most of his life. Once C. Dupin passed unto the other realm he bequeathed unto Mother a LARGE SUM of money (approx. 3.5 million credits) which he had obtained ENTIRE LEGALLY during one of the many coups which occurred during his tether. Mother recently last month was LOST when exploring a new discovered planet and therefore has passed the SUM to me. I am seeking your Guidance and Assistance in this matter because I wish to begin life anew away from Terra, but in my possession are not the papers or off-planet bank account necessary. If interested please reply with alacrity and quickness for your Unparalleled assistance is FORTY PERCENT of 3.5 MILLION reward.

Your to trust,

Hercule Dupin, Esq.

Spock stared at the poorly written missive with a combination of fascination and revulsion. It was, if he wished to be exactingly technical, written in Vulcan, though not in "Vulcan" the way Vulcans used it.

He had two questions: one, how had this cretinous letter found its way past his state-of-the-art spam filter and two, how had the idiotic sender gotten hold of the username to his student account? Actually, he had another question, one of lesser immediate import but the contemplation of which caused the most bafflement; why in the name of Surak did the sender (almost certainly a Human) believe that a Vulcan would make a good mark? It was obviously intended for a Vulcan; it wasn't as if any other races used their writing system.

Therefore, who in their right (or even wrong) mind would bother to set up a scam which had a zero-percent chance of paying out? You didn't need to be Vulcan to compute those odds.

Therefore, in the interest of scientific enquiry, he constructed an alias account and penned a reply:

Mr. Dupin,

I am most honored to make your esteemed acquaintance. I am interested in your business proposition and would like further information.

T'Prend

Spock felt a bit silly using for a female name for an alias, but as this whole affair was so silly and unVulcan (getting scam mail was a very unVulcan thing to do), and as he felt very sure that his correspondent was also using a pseudonym, it simply felt like the right thing to do.

OK, not right; it was illogical and ridiculous and the perfect opposite of right, but that did not stop him from hitting send.

XXXXXX

The next day at school Spock learned that perhaps he'd been too harsh on himself last night. If getting scam mail was unVulcan, then the entire population of his learning institution, from the youngest pupils to the eldest, most dignified professors, were also a little bit not Vulcan.

The situation was more serious than he had supposed, because the going theory was that the scammer had hacked the institution's records in order to obtain the usernames. Of course, this theory was not in any way the public theory; for that to happen the administrators would have to admit to having been hacked by a Terran too half-witted to use a capable translation app.

Which was impossible. (A proper Vulcan would never admit to such a thing.)

And yet, Spock could read it in the nebulous tension surrounding the administrators; in the narrowed eyes and the clandestine meetings carried out in hushed tones. He knew that this meant that, so far, the cretin had bested a school full of learned Vulcan professors. It was doubtful that this would still be an issue if they had been able to track the email to its source, or even if they had been able to identify the security loop-hole which had allowed the imbecile access.

It seemed that this simpleton could be quite proficient at a task when he put his mind to it.

XXXXXX

By the time he had been released from school, the scammer had sent him a reply.

Most Loveliest T'Prend,

It heats my grieved heart to receive word of your most discerning interest in my poor situation. Since my mother Augusta Dupin has passed over I have been completely alone in the universe as my siblings, taking after our illustrious Mother, have ventured forth into the Universe to EXPLODE the Wonders of the Galaxy. I wish to join them but I CANNOT because I alone am bearing the burden of this SUM of inheritance. With all of your assistances I will leave the confines of this Earthy Prison and ascend into the Reaches of the Heavens. The only thing I am requiring from you is your bank account number, a print of your passport or other identifying documents, and a small transaction fee of 20 credits and then your FORTY PERCENT of 4.5 MILLION will be yours.

Your to trust,

Hercule

Spock spent several minutes staring at the new email. It was, like the first one, quite badly written, so initially he might have been inclined to accept a certain amount of grammatical inventiveness and lexical confusion. However, now he was starting to wonder whether his new friend was truly in earnest. He felt fairly certain that, if 'Hercule,' had been serious, he would have made sure to write 'EXPLORE' instead of 'EXPLODE.' And from what he had read of Earth culture, leaving the 'confines of this Earthy Prison' and ascending 'into the Reaches of the Heavens' sounded more like a suicide than the conclusion to a business proposition. Also, the value of this 'SUM' had mysteriously increased by 1 million.

As these sorts of mistakes and oddities piled up, Spock began to form the impression that his pen pal was doing it on purpose. Perhaps 'Hercule' had not, in fact, believed that he could swindle Vulcans, and was actually sending these scam emails as some sort of Terran joke.

Not that any of this revised Spock's estimation of his intelligence.

My dear Hercule,

I send my condolences and well-wishes for your many misfortunes. I would be overjoyed to assist you in your time of need. I do not possess a passport as I have never had cause to travel outside of my home town. Your adventurous family has, however, sparked an interest of travel in my heart. Thank you for opening my eyes to the possibilities this universe holds.

In lieu of a passport, would a license to operate class P motor vehicles do? Also, how am I to send you the 20 credit transaction fee? I must assume that my efforts to provide you with this SUM will meet with the same resistance you have encountered whilst attempting to move your considerable fortune off-world.

Your friend,

T'Prend

XXXXXX

Spock's suspicions were confirmed when he read the reply which was waiting for him when he woke up. It was written in Standard.

Now you're just messing with me, aren't you?

The corner of Spock's mouth might possibly have curled upward in amusement at reading that. He dashed off:

No more than you were messing with me, Hercule.

And then he rose from his bed to get dressed for school.

XXXXXX

Now Spock was catching glimpses of Vulcans wandering the halls of his learning institution who were definitely not faculty or staff. The only reasonable explanation was that they were still searching for information on the mysterious ex-scammer. Which reminded him; why had 'Hercule' gone through all this trouble when he hadn't believed he could make money from it? What other information, apart from usernames, had he gleaned from the school's records? And if he was going to use that information for his own nefarious purposes, then why send an email to everyone in the school to inform them that they'd been hacked?

None of this made any sense, least of all the fact that he, Spock, was completely and helplessly fascinated by an entirely illogical—and possibly psychotic—Terran imbecile.

XXXXXX

As he had come to expect, a message was waiting for him when he was released from school.

Dear T'Prend,

Is this an alias for one of the students at the Eleventh Learning Academy?

Hercule

Spock hesitated, then replied in the affirmative. He couldn't see any reason not to; either the Terran was adept enough at hacking that he could figure out the identity of "T'Prend" on his own, or else he wasn't, in which case the additional information wouldn't assist him in narrowing down T'Prend's identity from his list of over two hundred students.

And in any case, Spock was still itching to know what, exactly, this Terran thought he was doing.

XXXXXX

Dear T'Prend,

I'm a student, also. Human, as you've probably guessed.

Hercule

The reply was short and to the point, but Spock wasn't about to let the conversation end there.

Hercule,

What purpose did you have in obtaining the learning institution's records and sending us such an idiotic email?

T'Prend

XXXXXX

Dear T'Prend,

I have to have a purpose? Adults have always told me that I have a problem with not thinking stuff through. I think this is one of those times.

Hercule

Spock huffed a bit with annoyance.

Hercule,

Hacking into the records of a Vulcan learning institution (or, indeed, any Vulcan institution) requires more than a little time and premeditation. I can only assume that you are, once again, 'messing with me.' I had hoped that we had progressed far enough in each other's confidences that you would feel able to disclose such a paltry bit of information to me.

I see now that I was wrong in my estimation of our relationship. I apologize for wasting your valuable time.

T'Pend

XXXXXX

Dear T'Pend,

Why do I feel like our roles have suddenly reversed? Haha, touché.

I did it to prove to myself that I could. Nothing more, nothing less. How're the other Vulcans handling getting scam mail for the first time in their lives? I bet they think the world's ending.

Hercule

Spock knew that he couldn't trust anything his correspondent wrote, but he felt inclined to take Hercule at face value. After all, if this was all part of some elaborate ploy of Hercule's to steal Spock's money or identity, it was much too convoluted to actually work.

Hercule,

I would say that that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, but I think your second email to me has already claimed that position.

I take it, then, that you are interested in computers?

T'Prend

XXXXXX

They kept in touch, trading vague and possibly fictitious details of their lives, hobbies, and interests until once day, shortly before Spock was to begin his application for the Vulcan Science Academy, Hercule simply stopped replying.

XXXXXX

Spock stood on the bridge of the Enterprise and cocked his head slightly at James T. Kirk.

"And what do you know of Vulcan culture, Captain?" He asked politely, expecting the man to cite some laughable documentary he had watched in grade school as the sole source of his knowledge.

"Well," Kirk said thoughtfully, "I once had a Vulcan pen pal, you know. Her name was T'Prend, and…."

Spock felt such a sense of shock at that revelation that he did not hear the rest of what his captain was saying. He didn't need to listen, anyway.

He already knew how this story went.