Title: Embracing Salutation

Rating: PG-13

Chapter Summary: After McCoy sneaks Kirk aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise, things begin to get a little rough. Kirk, aware of that fact that a repetition of the past is about to go underway, rushes onto the bridge and bursts into an explanation as to why the ship must stop immediately. Followed by a very last moment between the two main characters...

Disclaimer: Star Trek characters are not mine.

Author's Note: This is the final chapter, and it moves quickly and has a lot of dialogue. Hopefully you have fun with it. :)

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"Kirk!"

Turning around, his hands clutching fistfuls of golden hair, Cadet Kirk glanced diffidently onto Cadet McCoy's wavering hand that beckoned him to come forward. "C'mere!" McCoy hissed through clenched teeth, attempting yet again to get his stubbornly rooted friend to follow after him. Glancing around in confusion, Kirk stalked quickly forward and nearly lost his balance as McCoy grabbed furiously onto his arm, yanking him off into some unknown direction at a very obviously-rushed speed. The man's trepidation as to what was going on seemed to be 'gone with the wind', so to speak, and any mere onlooker would be immediately aware of that fact. Luckily enough, however, they were not stopped nor questioned their entire way into the medical tent; where, upon entry, McCoy dropped his hold on Kirk's muscled forearm and rushed over to a glass cabinet filled with what was (presumably) medicines.

"Bones, what are you doing? Aren't you supposed to be on a shuttle?" Kirk exclaimed finally, shifting his weight back and forth, up and down, trying to see over the doctor's shoulder as to try and decipher exactly what he was doing. The dark-haired man's busy working hands shuffled through tiny shot-containers that were labeled by the hundreds with diseases and cures that Kirk had never heard of – reassuringly most of which had originated on other – distant – planets.

Removing a painful-looking shot, twisting it around between his fingers, McCoy turned back around to face Kirk with a wide and rather torpid grin. "You deserve to be up there, Jim. With all of us. And I hate the idea of you staying down here, lookin' all pathetic - " He then took a steady step forward and raised his hand that held tightly onto the recently activated shot. Kirk flinched to the side and held his hand up to block the blow, confused to all hell, but he failed to react in time as the quick transaction passed a full-blown liquid serum down into his neck.

"Ahg! Hell – damnit – what was that?" Kirk gurgled impulsively, doddering over towards a swivel-chair as a torrid feeling began to ripple down his neck and into his left shoulder, reacting so quickly that (if he were blind, or strangely confused) he might mistaken the feeling for self-combustion.

"I'm doing you a favor. Levarin Mud Flease... I'll explain later – now, we have little time, and you are about to lose sight in your left eye. Oh, and a really bad headache." McCoy said, half distracted, yet again digging through the cabinet and pocketing a series of different shots that, hopefully, would cure the pain that was now swelling down to Kirk's fingers.

"Why are you doing this, again?" Kirk attempted once more, blinking back the glossed-over blur that began to form in front of his left eye adjacent to a piercing scream that mulled over his skull.

"I owe you. I got you sick, after all, so now I'm doing you a favor; getting you onto that shuttle."

"So – lemme get this straight..." Kirk began, standing from the chair and practically collapsing onto his knees – though McCoy had anticipated that kind of reaction, and grabbed underneath the cadet's armpit with his shot-free hand. Leaning into McCoy's side, now completely blinded in one eye, he continued through gritted teeth as the burning sensation surged into the right side of his body. "You got me sick – and you're fixing that by... getting me sick again. You call this a favor?"

The next few hours were simply a shadow in Cadet Kirk's memory.

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Spock walked stiffly through the crowd of busy workers in the engineering room, his heels tapping respectfully against the hull of the ship U.S.S. Enterprise as he bee-lined dourly for the elevator system. His stoic expression was painted with the obvious state of a deep thought process, both painful and anxious. And, though his outer appearance and well-proclaimed emotional mask was convincing and straight, his internal conflict with it's nagging whispers were solemnly tugging at the thin line upon which his emotions stood. Vulcan, his home planet, was being attacked. Something or someone was endangering the only place he called home, and the only safe-haven for his mother and father; as well as the entire species in which he merged. If anything were ever to happen to Vulcan – well, let's just say the soul reasons for Spock joining Starfleet were to reassure himself that he would always have some power in protecting his people; his home. But never in a million years would he have expected to ever see the day when that evasive plan-in-action would actually have to take place, leaving him both emotionally and physically torn. Slinking easily around men with winsome work-ethics, and woman with their noses buried into the screens of computer-pads, the Commander paused in mid-stride as a familiar voice seemed to ring into his serrate, momentarily distracting him from his distressed thoughts.

"We need to get you changed."

"I don't feel right, I feel like I'm leaking --"

"Yeah – well, there's that pointy eared bastard."

Glancing sharply to the left, searching the top of the many Cadet head's that shifted around the room, Spock narrowed his soft eyes insufficiently with an attempt to spot the man's familiar voice he swore he had just heard. Cadet Kirk; though he had only known the cadet for a limited number of hours, the Commander could spot the cocky voice anywhere in the universe with just one little tease. Twitching his hand in absentminded annoyance, Spock forced himself to believe it had just been a mind-trick on his flittering emotions, and in that moment concealed himself to focus on handling his incongruous mind. Stepping lively into the elevator, lips parted in silence, he pressed quickly onto the control module of the small room and waited as the computer beeped a melodic tune. Standing as stiff as a board, counting inside of his head to the number of five, Spock waited until the doors re-swung open, revealing the main bridge. Inside of the bridge was a number of busy officials and commanders, all hustling around in the most postured fashion, each busy at work with their separate tasks. In the center of the room was an empty captains chair, sitting in perfect direction towards the wide-opened window, radiating with importance. As the Vulcan stepped lively around the area, he nodded his head towards the back of a very unfamiliar neck belonging to a Caucasian male who seemed to be driving the ship, and a vast rate of concern swept through him.

"Mr. Spock!"

Spock exhaled heavily as he plopped down into a seat with a winsome appearance, punching in a few plots at the glowing computer screen before him. The captain's voice from behind the corner rang both urgently and thankfully, as if the very sight of the Commander was a success in itself. "Captain," Spock said stiffly, acknowledging the recent presence of the powerful man behind him. "Engineering reports 'ready for launch'."

"Thank you." Captain Pike said with a smile towards the Vulcan as he tore haughtily at the yellow shirt collar around his neck, placing himself stiffly within the captain's seat while flipping at a small switch in the arm rest. A joyous 'bleep' emerged from the chair, and he instantaneously broke into commands that rang throughout the entire vessel. "All deck's; this is Captain Pike, prepare for immediate departure. Helm, thrusters."

The new pilot pressed firmly into a series of buttons, simultaneously reporting back with a mellowed voice that seemed much too young to be flying such a craft. "Thrusters fired, separating from space dock." Soon after, Spock grabbed onto the module before him as the ship shifted below them, humming loudly as it separated from the dock. This would be a promising trip...

"The fleet's cleared space dock, captain. All ships ready for warp." The pilot's puerile voice rang stiffly.

"Set course for Vulcan." Captain Pike replied quickly, leaning deeply into the back-rest of the chair and biting down on his lip.

"Aye, aye Captain. Course laid in." The pilot answered, swiveling around in his own chair to stare nervously back upon the face of the leading man.

Pike brought his hand up to his chin and clasped onto it firmly, narrowing his eyes past the vast span of space beyond the window. A determined quake flushed over his elder face, and he lowered his voice to a serious drone. "Maximum Warp. Punch it."

The pilot turned back towards the intimidating number of nobs and switches, placing his palm tightly atop a lever that eased slowly forward when subdued. As he pressed against it, the surrounding ships blew off in flashes of warp-speed, disappearing into the large disarray of stars. The Enterprise gave a loud roar, as if threatening to explode, singling itself out in posture. The crew all glanced around in confusion, and a low roar of murmurs and complaints began to flood about the hull. Spock released his hold on the module and turned about to face the new pilot, a curious look adorning his dark eyebrows.

"Lieutenant, where's Helmsman Leutenna?" Captain Pike said warily, pressing his lips tightly together as his brow caved into submission.

"He has lung worm, sir. He couldn't report to his post." A man at Spock's left mused abruptly.

"I'm Hikaru Sulu." The pilot said slowly, kneeling his elbow roughly into the back of his chair as he, once again, swivelled around to face the captain.

"And you are a pilot – right?" Pike accused roughly, raising both of his eyebrows in suspicion at the lack of movement.

"Uh, very much so, sir." He said with a loud gulp, turning back to face his busy-work. He began to press and pull on various different objects, examining and double-examining each transaction over again. "I'm, uh... I'm not sure what's wrong here."

"Is the parking break on?" Captain Pike said again, amused, though his frustration level was obviously wavering.

Chuckling winsomely, the pilot bit down on his lip and shook his head in a horde of anxiety. "No, but I'll figure it out -"

"Have you disengaged the external initial dampener?" Spock said quickly over the man's mumbling.

There was a momentary silence in the bridge as the pilot, embarrassed, leaned back in his seat after flipping one lonesome switch that was (seemingly) having something to do with what the Commander inquired. Spock chuckled lightly as the man strained his shoulders and squinted, his voice hallowing to a low hum. "Prepared for warp, sir."

"Let's punch it."

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"Lightning storm!" Cadet Kirk shot up, caked in sweat, gasping for air as if he had just surfaced from an under-water exploration. Reaching absentmindedly for his aching neck, rubbing tenderly across the seething surface with gentle finger tips, the cadet strained his neck back and forth in an attempt to subdue the pounding burn. Feeling his pulse tap rapidly beneath his skin, he felt as if a symphony of horns were blowing directly into the side of his head, rattling his eardrums and puncturing his ears. As the sight in his eyes slowly began to clear, and the surrounding bodies of tightly-fitted woman in white nursing outfits squandered into view, he half-expected himself to be dead. Refraining from blurting out if 'this was heaven', Kirk was notoriously dismayed as his head cranked to the left and his eyes fell onto the face of McCoy.

"Ah, Jim, you're awake. How do you feel?" McCoy said mirthlessly, folding his arms before his chest and weighing the time it took for the man to respond. In reply, Kirk groaned loudly and bent his neck backwards, rolling his head around just to make sure all systems were still active in his body. As his shoulders caved inward with the lull of his torso, he was suddenly reminded of what had awoken him in the first place. Snapping his back into a straight composure, Kirk kicked his legs off of the medical bed and began to walk hurriedly towards the exit.

"Whoa, whoa! You can't just get up like this – you have to keep your blood-pressure down!" McCoy said firmly, grabbing at Kirk's arms and halting him.

Kirk immediately writhed in his friends arms and swung at him gently, attempting to void him off. "Lightning storm. I heard that Russian kid say something about a lightning storm!" Kirk said despotically, pointing at the play-back of the announcement that rolled across the screen of a nearby computer.

McCoy glanced at it and shrugged his shoulders slowly, re-grasping his friend yet again and sticking him with another shot. "And? This isn't like earth, Jim, we aren't going to get struck by lightning on a ship -"

"Bones!" Kirk cried out in pain as the shot's fluid fluctuated down his spinal chord. "We have got to stop the ship." Then, with expert diversity, the cadet wiggled from the doctor's arms and sprinted into the hallway.

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Vulcan. The reddish-hued planet was precisely sixteen light years in distance from the planet Earth, orbiting a lonely stature in the middle of the universe. Its desert surface homed a population of six billion, including wonderful cities and massively humungous regions that swept across the entire planet's crust. The climate, though generally harsh, seemed to somehow horde its very own ocean as well as a thin atmosphere that made it easily possible for humans to walk freely across it's plains (though the air, being much denser, seemed to tire the human body much faster than a Vulcan's). The only problem with the sandy surface was that it was easily susceptible to electrical sand fire storms – possibly creating the foreboding natural disaster ahead. In simple terms, it was worth every ounce of battle to ensure the safety of the ancient planet; but at what cost? Flattening his palms together in uncertainty, Commander Spock stared at the empty computer screen with a glassy film before his eyes. It was probably nothing. The odds were, there was just some small natural disaster that the Vulcan High Command found to be a little bit overly-intimidating, therefor calling in the help of Starfleet. In reality, it was probably no big deal, and there was nothing for him to worry his mind about. The planet would be fine, the counsel would be fine, his mother would be fine...

Spock clenched his jaw aggressively, sedulous in convincing himself that there was no need to be concerned. There was certainly nothing going on at Vulcan that the entirety of Starfleet could not contain; no matter how threatening it seemed. Inhaling heavily, dropping his arms back to the rests of the chair, Spock's ear twitched rapidly to the left as the strange sounds of distressed shouting merged from the hallway.

"Jim!" Undoubtedly, McCoy's voice.

"What's going on?" Uhura, strangely enough.

"Jim, don't go in there!" Again, McCoy.

"Kirk!" Uhura...

"Captain!" And there it was, James T. Kirk's voice. "Captain Pike, we have to stop the ship!"

Then, before anyone could have any reaction time, Cadet's Kirk, McCoy, and Uhura all stampeded around the corner, sliding into separate halts as Captain Pike jumped up from his chair. Everyone in the bridge looked at the trio in deep confusion, marking their expressions in unattributed verbiage. Thrown into a fit of irritation, Spock stood as well, staring at Cadet Kirk with a heated encumbrance. How the hell he had managed to get on the ship, no one knew, but there was a certainty of ill-outcomes to be ensured because of it. Immediately, McCoy jumped in front of Kirk, spilling his heart about how 'everything was his fault' and that Kirk was under an intense amount of shock from being – oh, it was uncertain as to why, perhaps he was sick, or something. As McCoy dabbled on and on, Kirk shot Commander Spock an amused look to outfit the Vulcan's peeved expression, and winked. Raising his dark eyebrows in simulation with the cadet's – what was it – flirtatious behavior? - Spock clenched his fists in dilatory response. As the duo stared each other down with a building indulgence, McCoy continued to prattle on and on, simply painting the expression of distaste upon the Captain's face.

Forcing his blue eyes to drag away from Spock's placid skin, Kirk elbowed McCoy out of his way and bowed threw his voice into admission. "Vulcan is not undergoing a natural disaster, it is being attacked by Romulans."

"Romulans?" McCoy mouthed, staring at Kirk as if he were a nutter.

"Cadet Kirk, I think you have had enough attention for one day!" Captain Pike said sternly over him, shooting the doctor a glare. "McCoy, take him back to medical, we'll have words later."

Ducking away from McCoy's grasping arms, Kirk jumped onto the chair-platform with the Captain and practically shoved himself into the man's face. "Sir, that same anomaly you saw today - "

"Captain, Cadet Kirk is not fit to be aboard this vessel!" Spock shot out immediately, giving the captain a perforce glare while taking a steady step forward. Kirk clenched his hands furiously at this gesture, and thus began a heated argument;

"Look, I get it, you're a great debater - "

"And by regulations we should immediately remove him from - "

"I would love to do it again with you some time - "

"I can remove the Cadet from the shuttle if - "

"TRY IT!" Kirk shouted loudly, causing Uhura to slightly jump, McCoy to raise both of his eyebrows in shock, and Spock to bite down on his tongue. "This Cadet's trying to save the bridge!" The dagger-glares the Commander and Cadet shot to each other were persuasive enough to almost shake the entire room, sending chills down everyone's backs.

"By recommending a full stop mid-warp during a rescue mission?" Spock hissed through gritted teeth, narrowing his dark, gentle eyes to cascade into Kirk's ice-blue, fierce ones.

"You're impossible." Kirk groaned furiously, turning his attention back towards the captain with a much softer voice. "Listen to me, this is not a rescue mission, it's an attack."

"Based on what facts?" Spock demanded sharply, slipping in once again.

"That same anomaly - a lightning storm in space that we saw today - also occurred on the day of my birth, before a Romulan ship attacked the U.S.S. Kelvin. You know that Sir, I read your dissertation." Kirk continued in intransigent reply to the Vulcan's pestering. "In twenty-three hundred hours last night there was an attack. Forty-seven Klingon war birds destroyed by Romulan's, Sir. And it was reported that the Romulan's were in one ship – one massive ship!"

"And you know of these Klingon attacks, how?" Captain Pike demanded, a confluence of belief beginning to accumulate behind his rough eyes.

Hesitating, Kirk's gaze fumbled lazily onto Uhura who was standing rather absently off to the side, twiddling her thumbs. She bit nervously down on one cheek as she became narrowly aware that everyone was looking at her, eyes fluttering momentarily before she caved her head forward and nodded. "Sir, I intercepted and translated the message myself. Kirk's report is accurate." Spock's mouth gaped slightly open in shock as the woman spoke, but he quickly snapped his jaw shut and turned his attention back onto the Captain. How could she not tell him something like that?

Kirk's paroxysm faded with a small nod as his determination slipped into full throttle. "We're warping into a trap, Sir, the Romulan's are waiting for us I promise you that."

Captain Pike sighed incredulously and glanced at Spock, who's human eyes bored deep into the side of the cadet's face. The sincerity in the man's expression was little to argue with, the Vulcan decided, and his points were clearly accurate (to some degree). Failure, at this point, was not an option, and taking any chances in losing Vulcan was in no way, shape, or form going to happen. "The Cadet's logic is sound." The Commander finally announced soft yet sternly, crossing his hands behind his back and giving the Captain a reassuring nod.

"Alright, then, let's listen to the kid..." And with that, everyone in the bridge turned their attention back to what they were doing as Captain Pike began to shout order all about the bridge; all except for Commander Spock and Cadet Kirk.

Gulping down the lump that began to form within his throat as he felt the warmth of Spock's eyes gorging into the side of his face, beads of sweat cascading down the rim of his golden skin, Kirk caught his breath slowly and backtracked. An evanescent surge of wonderment passed over his inner-curiosity as he fought not to meet the Vulcan's eyes - but his mind got the best of him. Slowly, hesitantly, Kirk's gave fumbled messily onto Spock's, and his chest caved with a heave. Why the hell was he staring with such an odd expression?

"May I converse with you, Cadet?" Contrary to previous beliefs that Spock might have conjured in his moment of defiance, he now had to settle things before he got too comfortable with the present outcome he had made of things. Waiting patiently for Kirk's reply, which never actually came, he simply walked into the hallway and cut around the corner as to block direct vision of their conversion.

Running his tongue nervously across his upper lip, Kirk folded his arms seclusive and shrugged his shoulders towards the florescent ceiling. "What?"

"I think it is wise that I accepted your conclusion, however, on the contrary, I have despised you from the beginning of our encounters. Thus being so, I hereby swear to you that if, while you are present aboard this ship, anything is to go astray I will personally handle you with a great lack of care." Kirk flinched as he made his way carefully through the labyrinth of explanation the Vulcan had presented, ending up with absolutely no damn clue what he had just said. Had he just threatened him? How cute...

Reaching forward with a bemused smile, Kirk simply pat the Vulcan on the arm roughly, shaking his head. "I accept that as a welcoming aboard, Commander."

Spock leaned away from the Cadet's arm, his jaw dropping open to defy him, though words seemed to to lack in copious supply. Slamming his mouth shut, the Vulcan mirrored the cadet's former stance, folding his arms before his chest and exhaling deeply, driving the insane notions from his body. There was something so strange about James T. Kirk that made Spock feel like he never had with anyone before. Nothing scared the blonde-headed, cocky, straight-necked cadet; and, likewise, nothing ever seemed to bother him. He lived for nothing and everything at the same time, and though he seemed to be a horrid being, there was a radiance of good that hung from the edge of his shoulders – in other words, he was absolutely fascinating.

As the silence filled the hallway, and Spock stood in deep thought, Kirk finally couldn't help himself but to whistle and wave his arms spiratically in front of the Vulcan's face. "Earth to Spock?"

Shaking his head, the Vulcan dropped his arms from their folded position and smiled slightly. "My apologies, Cadet – you're right."

Jaw dropping and eyebrows raising, Kirk took a step back in amazement. "I'm right? My god – can I get a witness on that?" Then, with much urgency and force, Spock smacked his hand into the side of Kirk's arm, much like the cadet had done to him. Eyes wincing with pain and confusion, Kirk rubbed angrily at the throbbing skin, twisting his mouth. "Ow – what the hell?"

"Welcome aboard, James." Spock said with a simple shrug, then made his way back to the bridge.

END.

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And thus, the beginning to an incredible friendship; via my imagination.
Nowwww, here are my thoughts; I was going to continue with another story (like a sequel to this) aiding the movie but with my own fun twists. Question is, should I? Give me your opinions, please.
Thank you SO MUCH for reading my first Star Trek short story!