Of convenience

Chapter 1

Story not mine

Jim didn’t precisely throw down the papers, but he did slam them on the desk with enough force that what little dust was on the surface of said desk swirled viciously about the air for a few moments before settling innocuously in a new pattern as it landed.  Spock, for his part, simply raised an eyebrow minutely.  Most of his focus was on the reaction itself, though a small portion remained fixated on the presence of actual paper aboard such a technologically advanced ship.  The obsolete ink-and-carbon forms meant something of significance must have been occurring.

“God damn it,” the captain ground out, not paying his first officer any mind.  They’d been discussing something before he’d opened the outdated envelope, but now it seemed of little consequence.  “There’s gotta be some regulation against that.  This better be wrong.”

Spock clasped his hands behind his back.  “Is something amiss?” he asked, not certain if this was an instance in which the man would be his captain or his friend.  The man heaved out a sigh.

“Komack,” he growled.  “He’s been trying to get the Enterprise out of my hands since I got it.  He thinks he’s finally found a way.”

This was troublesome.  Spock allowed his eyes to flick from the papers on the other man’s desk to the white-knuckled grip the human had on his chair.  There was considerable tension in his posture.  “Has he indeed found a way, Captain?”

Jim bit his lip.  Spock watched in mild fascination as an exotic pink flushed the area.  “He might have,” he said quietly.  “Regulation 447-22.  All Starfleet officers must retain citizenships of Federation planets outnumbering citizenships of non-Federation planets.”

Spock allowed one eyebrow to stretch upwards.  “Are you not a citizen of Earth?” he inquired, taking in the man’s form.  There was no hint of anything but Terran blood in the man.

“Yeah, I am, but,” he said in a rush, pounding a fist against the papers.  Of course, this action did not result in anything significant, just another faint swirling and resettling of dust.  “But I was born in Klingon space.  Since I was actually born off the Kelvin in a shuttle, I can be considered a fucking Klingon citizen.  A one-to-one ratio doesn’t count as ‘outnumbering’.”

The Vulcan wondered for a moment whether the Klingons were actually aware of Kirk’s citizenship, but he banished the thought from his mind.  It was a logical race to declare the captain a citizen of as it could neither be confirmed nor denied.  The Klingons were not likely to cooperate with a Starfleet inquiry.  After a moment’s thought, he needlessly straightened his back.

“He is filing an injunction?” Spock queried, more a statement than anything.  Jim nodded in reply anyway.  “Until what date are you permitted to remain captain?”

Jim glanced over the papers, obviously seething.  “Two days for the injunction to be made official,” he spat.  “Two fucking days.  How am I supposed to sort out my citizenship issues in two days?”

Spock strode to the desk, lifting the abused papers off of it.  They were dry, smooth – he preferred them, almost, to a PADD.  Two days.  Komack had certainly done his research on this; Jim’s birth records, his Starfleet admissions paperwork, a thorough history of the man’s residences and family, and varied other information occupied the pages.  It was, in fact, put together almost flawlessly.  From a neutral standpoint, even Spock could admit that the data was enough to purge Kirk from Starfleet entirely.