Nothing Lay Between (4A/?), Kirk/Spock, Pike/Spock, PG-13
When they emerged onto the landing pad, there was a blast of hot desert air that reminded Chris of stepping outside of his own Mojave home, even if the temperature exchange there was never quite this extreme. The cool (not Vulcan-cool, but actual human-cool, almost colder than the Excalibur) inside of the hovercar was an immediate relief. The vehicle appeared to be designed for sight-seeing: a spacious, round seating area with plush chairs topped with a polarized glass dome making one giant window. Spock sat in the chair to Chris’ left, while Richard sat across from them. The young Vulcan reached back to press a button against the back panel behind the seats, and ordered something too quick to catch in Vulcan. Someone, possibly the driver, responded curtly before the hovercar rose smoothly and slipped into the many aerial highways of the city.
Conversation on the way to the Vulcan Science Academy (as Spock informed them they were traveling to) was strange. By chance, Richard had asked Spock how well he knew the faculty at the Academy, to which Spock revealed that he conducted research there on occasion. That grabbed Chris' attention further, who was curious why a guide would be conducting research at one of the Federation's most prestigious development centers. Obviously there was a great deal more to this Spock then met the eye. With follow-up curiosity of his own, Richard asked what the research was about, and the conversation spiraled into a discussion about gravitational time dilation and creating artificial gravity wells without the actual presence of mass. Though far from Chris' expertise, he could gather enough to hesitantly figure what such research could lead to.
When they reached the Academy-a looming, large compound on the edge of the city of sandstone, glass, and steel-Spock actually showed them one of his related experiments. It was a mass of complex equipment and delicate substances, the scope of which left Richard in a muted awe much to Chris' complete but hidden amusement. Within a short time one of the faculty appeared at Spock’s request, leaving just Spock and Chris. Chris made a small mental note to ask Richard later about what he saw in the Academy, but then decided that Richard probably would not be able to hold back telling him all about it whether he asked or not. Not that he could deny his friend an ear to listen.
Back in the hovercar, where to his surprise Spock remained sitting right next to him despite the other empty seats, and after another quick instruction to the mysterious hidden driver, Spock began the tour proper. They surveyed the political district, its bold high-rise buildings just as pompous as any other government buildings this side of the galaxy. There always did seem to be a common theme of that political grandeur no matter what the species involved. Then the business district, with buildings of a different architecture but made of the same sandy-brown stone. After this, their vehicle descended to one of many botanical gardens that littered the city, and they had a light and oddly Terran lunch in an enclosed glass room right in the center of the greenhouse; it was also cool, like the vehicle.
Teacup balanced in one hand and the saucer in the other, Spock explained the popularity of gardening despite the desert climate, and the importance of this garden in particular. Most of the plants here were not native to Vulcan, as evidenced by their broad leaves and huge blooming flowers versus the compact, thorny bushes of native flora. It was during this lunch that Chris found himself relaxing, at least a little, in the presence of his native guide. Spock was obviously intelligent, yet he seemed different than the other Vulcans Chris had met previous to the day. In the sheer fact that despite their supposed lack of emotions, Vulcans always seemed to have an incredibly pompous air around them. Spock seemed to have a far more muted version of that air, which did briefly show itself on occasion, but seldom enough that it calmed his own nervousness when speaking in return.
Their continuing survey of the city continued at a slower pace after lunch. They descended from the aerial highways into the ground-level streets, driving amongst landmarks that were hundreds if not thousands of years old. Spock provided all the pertinent information about the various histories and also elaborated on any questions Chris had. From here, they drove through busy and bustling marketplaces; Spock asked him multiple times if he wished to purchase anything--Vulcan port, rare gems, clothes, or electronics. Each time it was denied, though Chris did ask about the Vulcan port out of curiosity since Boyce had seemed very determined to get a bottle. He was intrigued by Spock's comment that he would be able to sample its pleasure later, retaining the mysterious air around the subject for now.
Finally, when the evening rolled around and the sun set, the hovercar came to the magnificent, glass-and-gold entrance of the Tav’Sal’Nava. “It is the finest hotel within the boundaries of Shi’Kahr,” Spock told him as they stepped out of the car and into the grandiose lobby of the hotel. The lobby was actually the ground level of an enormous atrium, which went as far as the eye could see through levels of shops, restaurants, and finally rooms. They approached the front desk carved of beautiful black onyx stone where Spock spoke to the receptionist on Chris’ behalf in fluid and fast-paced Vulcan.
She presented a silver key-card to Chris. “You have been given the third suite on the one-hundred-second level, Captain. The diplomats’ dinner begins in thirty-two minutes in the private room at the Khrash-Yel, to the left,” She gestured towards the appropriate direction.
“Sir,” Spock began, hands folded behind his back, when they had stepped away from the front desk and lingered by one of the prominent centerpieces of the lobby -- a fine bouquet made of thin glass and gems. He had addressed Chris in alternating batches of sir and captain all day. “I am permitted to accompany you to this dinner, should you request that I be present.”
It was only a slight hesitation before Chris made up his mind on that particular subject. Having at least one familiar non-crew face would be welcomed, as well as having someone that he felt more comfortable asking information from if needed. Yet, on the other hand, he was no fool to politics. He had a very good feeling on exactly why he had been given such a guide, and was relaxed yet careful around the young Vulcan. "It would be my honor if you would join me," Chris replied smoothly, turning his gaze on Spock.
The thirty minutes immediately previous to the dinner went by quickly as Chris and Spock adjourned to Chris' hotel room, letting him freshen up briefly and finish decorating himself as would behoove anyone going to such a formal meal. Hair brushed neatly into place, uniform without a stitch out of place, medals neatly hung against his chest, Chris eyed himself in the mirror only long enough to dislike having to do this. In particular, he hated having to keep the high collar buttoned. He always preferred to leave it open when possible.
The dinner itself ended up being nearly a blur. It was a heady mix of discovering Vulcan cuisine, which was an exquisite burst of flavor on the tongue that few Terran foods could replicate. Later, Chris would learn that with a weakened sense of taste, Vulcans required stronger flavours of food to fully enjoy a meal, much the difference of having an every day replicated meal versus a meal at a five star restaurant. Names came and went through his ears but a replitilian sense of knowledge kept the important ones, enough to continue using them through the night and setting them into true memory. During this dinner, he realized why Starfleet wanted him here. The Vulcans always maintained their own armada of starships, but there were ideas among various parties about increasing its size. Starfleet needed someone who could recognize belligerence from honest defensive worries, as well as to know the acceptable number of ships a planet like Vulcan would actually need.
Occasionally, Chris would have to kick Phillip lightly in the shin to keep him from getting a little too over zealous. Luckily, it seemed Richard had made a few acquaintances over at the VSA that they had been seated together and were animatedly discussing something Chris briefly figured out had to do with a certain equation of physics involving worm holes. Well, Richard was animated while Chris could see a certain sense of attention and curiosity on the Vulcans' faces.
When not being spoken to by one of the others around him, Chris found himself in conversation with Spock. The other was clearly used to these sort of functions, eating and speaking and acting in a manner that belied an ease for these occasions that no one else in the room had. Perhaps, Chris thought to himself, it was a part of his job.
It dragged on for longer than Chris would have been pleased to deal with, yet he kept any sense of flagging interest in political intrigue and intricacies as hidden as he could manage. After seeing Richard's reaction to drinking some of the Vulcan port, which left the other man crimson-flushed and gasping, Chris lightly excused himself from drinking any despite a clear self-desire to try it. He wanted to keep his head clear when dealing with the Vulcans, even more so when he could have sworn he saw a brief lift on the corner of several Vulcans' lips when they saw Richard's reaction.
He could only be grateful when the dinner began to wind down, enough that he went to each of his crew in turn and politely weaseled them out of their respective situations to send them back for the night. It was hard to force down a chuckle at Phillip's obvious interest in Vulcan biology that he was getting very little information on from the other few doctors that had come. Finally, it was down to just himself. He made a few gentle goodbyes, and when he thought he could finally manage a neat escape, slipped from the dinner entirely. Only just outside, when he thought no one was around, did he momentarily lean against a wall and let out a slow breath. Diplomacy, while something he excelled at when necessary, was not something he enjoyed.
After the conclusion of this breath, the doors that led back to the room opened with a quiet hiss. Spock stepped out, alone. His fingers laced together neatly in front of him, and upon seeing Chris, stepped up to his side. "Captain," Spock's even tone had not wavered with fatigue the entire evening. "Do you wish to retire to your suite?"
A wry smirk touched Chris' lips, "Found out, was I?" He said in an easy manner, "And here I was thinking I would accomplish an unseen escape from the evening," The light teasing rolled off his tongue before he could stop himself. Chris realized how foolish it was, and the smile only grew slightly sheepish, "Ah, forgive me. You are too easy to talk to, Spock."
"A quality I do not necessarily hold in the negative, and I hope you do not, either," Spock used one hand to make a small gesture towards the elevators just down the corridor. "As it is, the majority of the discussion has concluded. It would not be unreasonable for us to return to your quarters."
Pause. What? "Us?" Came the lightly surprised and careful tone. What exactly did Spock mean by 'us'? The tension returned to Chris' shoulders and he immediately felt the knot that had been plaguing him throughout the night return. It had been a muscle cut deeply by an unfortunate event several years back, slicing the muscle raggedly in two. Despite it being healed, it was the same location that would always knot tightly the moment he was stressed.
Spock's fingers laced together neatly again over his abdomen. "I noticed that despite your apparent curiosity concerning Vulcan port, you did not sample it tonight. However, there is a small bottle contained within the bar of your suite. I may advise you on the proper technique of consuming it, so that you may not be--overwhelmed, like your unfortunate colleague. I am also knowledgeable in various methods of preparation, so that it may appeal more to your palette."
Chris could feel his brows raise as Spock spoke. Indeed, he was curious about it, and a chance to explore it without any potential embarrassment would be wonderful. As it was, if he found himself disliking the company or undesiring it, he could simply say he was tired and wished to retire for the night. Easy enough, at least. "Well, how could I say no to that?" He finally stated, turning neatly in place and heading towards the elevators. Spock walked alongside him with his usual grace and quiet dignity, into the elevator and all the way into the suite Chris had been provided.
Chapter Four, Part B