Spock might have presented the suggestion to beam the tribbles onto the Klingon vessel, but it did not germinate from him. It had been Uhura’s idea, though she’d muttered it under her breath as she’d been in contact with Mr. Scott facilitating the clear-out process for removing the tribbles from the ship. It hadn’t taken him long to form a hypothesis to complete the task; and since he had reasonable confidence in Mr. Scott’s abilities, Spock knew there was an eighty-three point nine-seven percent chance of its success.

He’d been dismayed when Uhura had taken such a long time to say goodbye to the furry creatures—even more so that she’d known which one had been the original, though admittedly he didn’t recall her relinquishing her hold on it the entire time. He’d also been dismayed that his hand, without its permission, had been stroking the tribble he’d held as he’d watched Uhura say her farewells. Yet even with his disquiet, Spock had realized it would be illogical to deny the tribble had no effect on him—obviously because of his human heritage—but more because it was not displeasing and, in fact, innocuous.

Except to Klingons.

In his own way, Cyrano Jones had been correct. Had he not enticed Uhura to take a tribble, then Dr. McCoy would have never had one on which to run tests, which meant the Klingon plan for sabotage might have succeeded. It was illogical to place too much stock on fate; but in this case, the idea had merit.

“What a day, huh, Spock?”

He looked to Kirk, who was leaning on the back two legs of his chair with his feet resting on his desk in his quarters. Spock’s eyes darted to McCoy, who had a smirk on his face.

“Captain?” he replied.

“If I never see another tribble, it will be too soon,” Kirk said wryly, dropping his head back and running a hand over his eyes.

“That statement is illogical,” Spock commented.

“And yet, true,” Kirk answered, not bothering to remove his hand.

“Still can’t believe they’re born pregnant,” Dr. McCoy said with an incredulous shake of his head. “So glad we aren’t!”

“We are not bisexual,” Spock said.

The human men snorted.

Spock sighed. “Even if a humanoid is born with both female and male sexual organs, he or she could not self-fertilize.”

“Yes, why take the fun out of everything?” Kirk said with a grin, and McCoy laughed.

Spock frowned. “The fun?”

“Oh, that’s right; Vulcans only get to have ‘fun’ every seven years,” McCoy teased. “Most unfortunate. Feel mighty bad for Uhura.”

“Thus far, she has had no complaints,” Spock said flatly, but his eyes burned with warning.

Kirk cleared his throat and removed his feet from the desk, sitting properly. “Speaking of, I feel like I should reprimand her, right? For the chaos she created?”

“Jim, if she’d known what the tribble would do, you really think she would’ve brought it on board?” McCoy asked before Spock could query the same.

Kirk frowned slightly and rubbed the point of his chin with an index finger. “I suppose not…”

“But she did seem rather fond of the things right up to the very end,” McCoy added, crossing his arms at his chest as his own frown formed. He then glared at Spock. “Wonder why that is?”

Spock ignored implication in McCoy’s question and tone.

Kirk sighed and waved away the impending argument. “I’ll let it go. I’m sure she knows better not to be swindled by a conman.”

“But it was not a con,” Spock answered. “She received exactly for what she paid.”

“She should be getting that for free, Spock,” McCoy ground out. “There is a problem if your woman goes searching for love in other places.”

Spock arched an eyebrow. “Upset she still did not choose you, Doctor?”

McCoy stepped forward. “Why you green-blooded—!”

“Please do not tell me I have a Helen on my ship!” Kirk implored.

“Dr. Helen Noel, Psychiatrist, Medical; Helen Jenkins, Ensign, Engineering—”

“Never mind, Spock,” Kirk muttered.

Sighing, McCoy’s ire at Spock dissipated and returned to the bulkhead on which he’d been reclining. “I went too far, Spock. I apologize.”

“You did,” Spock answered.

McCoy smiled a little, then raised his eyebrow at Kirk. “You know, Jim, I don’t know if I agree with the premise that too much of love is a bad thing.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Kirk mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“It is the one thing we humans can never have enough of,” McCoy continued. “Why else do we seek out companionship with more than one person?”

Kirk stared at McCoy for a long moment. “At least we don’t breed like tribbles…”

“That would be impossible, Captain,” Spock informed them. “The human female’s body cannot gestate at such a rate as a tribble and never could. To accomplish such a task, it would need to be in an artificial uterus—“

“Jeez, just take the magic out of procreation, why don’t you?” McCoy grumbled.

Spock was about to say something when the door to the captain’s quarters buzzed.

“Come in,” Kirk said, sitting even straighter at his desk.

A forlorn Uhura entered, her fingers twisting together before her and her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. She gave quick, shy glances to McCoy and Spock, but then settled her eyes on the captain.

“I’m sorry for wreaking such havoc on the ship, Captain. That wasn’t my intention, and if I’d known—”

“It’s all right, Uhura,” Kirk said, standing up from the desk. He approached her and grasped her upper arms. “You’re fine. But next time, ask questions about the merchandise you purchase?”

“You mean if they eat everything in sight and breed at will?” Uhura asked on a chuckle.

Kirk smiled and squeezed her arms. “Exactly what I mean.”

Uhura laughed and nodded. “Will do, sir.”

Chuckling as well, Kirk dropped his arms and stepped back from her. Uhura nodded at McCoy and Spock, ready to take her leave, when a sudden thought occurred to Spock.

“Lieutenant.”

Uhura stood at attention. “Yes, Commander?”

Spock rose to his feet and put his hands behind his back. “I do not recall telling you the Klingons had adverse reactions to the tribbles.”

Uhura frowned. “You did not, sir.”

“Then why did you suggest beaming the tribbles onto the Klingon ship?”

Uhura’s eyebrows rose. “I did?”

“I overheard you muttering to yourself.”

McCoy groaned. “That damn Vulcan hearing…”

“Oh! Well…” Uhura averted her gaze; and despite the rich tone of her skin, Spock knew she was blushing. “I saw it for myself, Mr. Spock.”

That brought all three men in the room to rapt attention. “Explain,” commanded Spock.

Uhura shrugged helplessly, but she held Spock’s eyes. “I’d beamed back down to find Cyrano Jones to ask about the…you know…and a Klingon approached me.”

“Uh, come again?” McCoy asked, his blue eyes narrowing, his voice gruff and dangerous.

“Well, I didn’t invite him over!” Uhura defended herself sharply, frowning at McCoy.

“What did he want?” Kirk asked, his voice even lower than McCoy’s.

“Captain,” Uhura said, tilting her head to the side, her tone slightly exasperated.

Spock gathered his hands tighter behind his back, not meeting the burning looks the other men sent his way. “I take it you had your tribble on your person.”

“Oh, yes, and when I’d turned around, the little darling started going crazy! The Klingon was so startled he rushed back to whatever rock he’d come from!”

“Uhura, why didn’t you tell us?” Kirk asked.

“I didn’t think anything of it! Besides, I’m a big girl and nothing happened. Anyway, it was like the tribble was protecting me or something,” Uhura said.

“In a way, it did,” McCoy said.

“Well, we didn’t make the connection, either, until the last possible second,” Kirk realized. Sighing, he touched Uhura’s cheek. “Seems they give you more than love…”

Uhura smiled, but then frowned again. “I hope they’re all right with all those Klingons.”

“I bet they’re all holed up in a cargo bay somewhere shaking in fear from those furry things!” McCoy cackled.

“We can only hope,” Kirk said with a small grin, dropping his hand from Uhura’s face.

She took a step back. “Okay, uh, that was all I wanted to say about that. Thank you for understanding, Captain.”

“Of course; but the next time you bring aboard a tribble…”

Uhura laughed and gave a twentieth-century American salute. “Received and understood, sir!”

“Captain, Doctor, I shall walk the lieutenant back to her quarters,” Spock said, his eyes never straying from Uhura.

“Very well, Mr. Spock, I shall see both of you first thing next shift,” Kirk said and returned to his desk. McCoy kissed Uhura on the forehead and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle. Spock took a deep breath.

“Goodnight, all,” Uhura said as she left. Spock nodded his goodbyes. They did not speak or touch each other until they reached her quarters. As soon as the door shut behind him, Spock grasped Uhura’s arm and tugged her close. He bent his face into her neck and inhaled her scent. Uhura exhaled slowly and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I hope this is pleasing to you,” he said after a moment.

“Always, Spock,” Uhura promised, kissing the side of his neck.

Spock closed his eyes and held her tighter. “More pleasing than a tribble?”

Uhura laughed lightly and pulled back. He opened his eyes and met her mirth-filled ones. “Maybe I should ask you that? There was some serious nirvana going on while you were petting one!”

Spock brought her closer. “Is that a question, Lieutenant?”

Shaking her head, Uhura stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. Her fingers caressed the back of his head and he moaned softly, increasing the kiss’s intensity. When she ended it, Spock kept his forehead against hers, his shields up, though he could sense her delight.

“You are infinitely more preferable to a tribble, Nyota,” Spock said quietly.

“Funny,” she whispered, letting her fingers dance over the points of his ears before pulling him into another kiss. “I was thinking the same thing…”