Fic: "Human Relationships: Friendship" part 3/3
Fandom: Star Trek 2009
Title: Human Relationships: Friendship, part 3/3
Characters/pairings: Spock, Amanda, Sarek, T'Pring, Pike, Uhura, pre-Spock/Uhura
Rating: PG
Words: 5,100
Disclaimer: Star Trek sure ain't mine
Summary: After leaving Vulcan, Spock encounters many kinds of Human friendship. However, what he has yet to learn is that not all friendships are as innocent as they at first seem.
Author's Notes: Thanks again to mrstater for beta reading. Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here.
Chapter 3
A week before Spock's departure for Starfleet Academy he made one final call to T'Pring. Her thoughts had settled even more over the years. When he felt her presence at all, it was something akin to a faint breeze caressing his face.
"Your decision not to attend the Science Academy is most illogical," she said.
"I am aware of that perception. However, I am confident with my choice, and look forward to my Starfleet career."
T'Pring studied his face, and for a moment he thought he could feel her mind reaching out to him--searching. For a fleeting moment he wanted her to come see him in person for the first time since their bonding. He wanted her to ask him not to leave. He wanted her to care.
"I accept your decision. Live long and prosper, Spock."
He controlled his disappointment before responding. "Live long and prosper, T'Pring."
After his first three days in the dorms at Starfleet Academy, Spock began to agree with T'Pring's assessment--his decision to come to Earth seemed very illogical. Though Spock had made several extended visits to Earth in the past with his parents, he always stayed in a Vulcan embassy or consulate, surrounded by other Vulcans. The experiences were wholly inadequate to prepare him for actually living among humans on his own.
The noise, the chaos, the clutter, and the ever-present irrationality were almost overwhelming. He began to wonder if he had made a mistake.
He was fortunate in his roommate, a soft spoken and intellectually inclined young human specializing in xenobiology named Chin-Hwa Pong.
On the evening of their third day as roommates, Spock sat on his bed trying to meditate, but the noise from the halls was far too distracting.
Chin-Hwa spoke. "If all this partying doesn't settle down in a week or two, I don't know how I'm going to keep my grades up."
Spock looked over at his roommate. "I concur. I have no understanding of how such unruly young men and women were ever considered capable of serving as Starfleet Cadets."
Unexpectedly, Chin-Hwa laughed. "No kidding. But the real problem is these rooms. The sound-proofing is almost non-existent."
"Recently, I read of a new transparent nanofiber resin that was developed to provide lightweight, space-saving soundproofing insulation aboard starships. It seems that it would require relatively little time or effort to upgrade the dormitories with such a material."
"Yeah," replied Chin-Hwa. "Hey--you know, I have a cousin who works in new materials research and development for Starfleet. I wonder if he can get his hands on some of that resin for us."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "It seems an endeavor worthy of further inquiry."
Three days later Chin-Hwa received a small parcel from his cousin--it was the resin. Spock and Chin-Hwa pushed all of their furniture and belongings to the center of the room and carefully brushed a thin layer of the resin over their walls, ceiling, and door. The effort took them more than six hours.
Once the resin dried they pushed the furniture back where it belonged. The room looked perfectly normal, as if nothing had been done at all.
"How can we tell if it's working?" asked Chin-Hwa.
"Simple." Spock strode to the door and opened it. A sudden barrage of noise flooded their room. Spock stepped back inside and closed the door. The sound ceased immediately.
Chin-Hwa started to laugh. "Perfect!"
Spock nodded. "The results are most satisfactory."
The next day, Chin-Hwa invited Spock to sit with him at lunch in the cafeteria. Soon, they and a small group of fellow cadets were eating almost every meal together.
Three weeks later, when Spock told his mother about Chin-Hwa, she said, "I'm so happy that you've made a friend! I was so worried you'd be lonely without me."
Spock was startled. It had not even occurred to him that, for the first time in his life, he had a friend.
***
Spock knows that while visiting cadets in their dormitories is not against regulation, it is certainly not looked on favorably. However, his concern for Cadet Uhura's well-being currently overrides his sense of propriety.
"Enter!" her voice calls over the intercom shortly after he pushes her door-chime.
The door slides open, and Spock steps inside, navigating around the entryway partition and back into the sleeping area. As soon as Uhura sees him, her eyes widen and she leaps to her feet from where she sat reclining on her bed.
"Commander--what are you…? I wasn't expecting you." Uhura's hair is longer by approximately three inches than when he last saw her, and is tucked behind her ears, which are adorned by simple silver hoops. She wears tight gray leggings and a loose, wide-necked tunic of thin white fabric. Her tunic has slid to one side, baring her shoulder and revealing the thin red strap of her bra. Her feet are bare, and the toenails of one foot are painted a deep purple, while the nails of the other foot are unpainted. A small container of nail polish sits on her bedside table.
He has never seen her in such casual attire before, and he halts, momentarily at a loss for words as his eyes take in every detail of her appearance, the rate of his heartbeat inexplicably increasing. Quickly he recovers from his surprise and straightens his stance, clasping his hands behind his back.
"I apologize for intruding on your privacy."
"No! No. Don't worry about it." She waves her hands in front of her and smiles.
He relaxes slightly. "Captain Pike just informed me of the altercation last night, and I came to inquire after your well-being."
Her face softens into a mysterious smile unlike any he has seen her wear before. "You were worried about me?"
Concerned, certainly, but Spock is unsure if he would go so far as to say worried. "As you were traveling with Captain Pike on my recommendation, I bear some responsibility for your safety. I trust you are unharmed?"
The Captain was unspecific about the exact nature of the bar fight, but he had said that it began when one of the local patrons made unwanted advances on Cadet Uhura, and that several cadets received minor injuries. The thought of Uhura coming to harm in a fistfight fills Spock with unpleasant tension.
The soft smile on her face transforms into a tight-lipped grin. "I'm fine. I can take care of myself."
"I did not intend to imply otherwise."
She closes her eyes and shakes her head a little before looking back up at him. "Of course you didn't. I'm sorry. It's just that I was one of only three female cadets on Captain Pike's recruitment tour, and after the first few days all the boys started developing some sort of chivalry complex or something."
Spock raises an eyebrow. "Is chivalry not a synonym for courtesy?"
Uhura tilts her head and shrugs. "Kind of--but it's more than just courtesy. It's…it's putting women up on a pedestal and treating them like something special that needs to be cared for and protected." She looks him in the eye and wags a pointed finger. "And I will not be put on some damn pedestal just so a bunch of oversexed cadets can feel manly and heroic. I'm training to be an officer, not a damsel in distress who needs rescuing."
Spock is beginning to understand. "So the root of your problem is the attitude of protectiveness and exaggerated deference exhibited by the male cadets in your company? It sounds as though their behavior indicated a lack of faith in your ability to care for yourself, thereby demonstrating disrespect for your capabilities."
"Exactly. It's the twenty-third century, for God's sake. You'd think men would realize by now that women are more than just fragile creatures that needed guidance and protection. The guy at the bar was just hitting on me. He didn't do anything out of line. And those Neanderthals in cadets' uniforms decided to kick his ass to prove themselves to me, or some other sort of equally ridiculous motive."
Spock furrows his brow. "It is most unfortunate that some of our cadets continue to exhibit such a striking lack of social intelligence."
She laughs, and the sound of it relaxes him. It has been too long since he heard the sound of her laughter. She sits back down on her bed, and gestures at the other bed.
"Have a seat. My roommate's not back from summer break yet, so this is probably one of the last times this year her side of the room will actually be clean."
Spock gingerly lowers himself to the edge of the crisply-made bed, and sits with a stiff spine. "Did your fellow cadets' behavior cause you to regret ending your internship early in order to accompany Captain Pike?"
"Not at all. I was glad for the chance to get to know the Captain. He's an amazing officer. And we got a chance to visit the shipyard in Iowa to see the Enterprise. She's going to be beautiful."
Spock nods. "I have reviewed the plans for the ship. It will be the most exceptional vessel in the fleet."
"And," Uhura leans forward, "rumor has it that Pike is going to be her first Captain. You're his friend. Has he said anything to you?"
He can see the eagerness on her face. It is clear that she harbors interest in a posting on the Enterprise, and Spock experiences a sensation of pleased anticipation at the thought that they may someday serve together on that vessel. "He has indeed been selected to serve as captain of the Enterprise. I am certain that you made a positive impression on him. When the time comes to assign a crew to the ship, I have no doubt that your experience in his company will increase your likelihood of obtaining a post aboard the Enterprise."
The grin on her face is positively childlike. He has never seen her so excited.
"Thank you so much for recommending me for the recruiting tour. Anything to help me get a spot on the Enterprise. I don't think I've ever wanted anything more than I want a place on that ship."
"If your academic performance continues at its current level, I am virtually certain that you will have your wish."
She grins some more, and Spock is pleased to have been the source of her delight.
He is tempted to stay with her longer, but he is concerned that spending too much unchaperoned time in a cadet's living quarters would be unwise. "I must excuse myself. Now that I am assured of your state of good health, I must return to my work. I have much preparation to complete before the semester begins."
She seems to understand. "Okay. When should I start work? I'm free all day every day until classes begin next week. I could help you prep for the semester, if you need it."
He ponders her request for a moment. He does not technically require her assistance; however, he admits to himself that her company would be pleasant. "Are you available at fourteen hundred hours tomorrow?"
"I am. Should I meet you at your office?"
He nods. "That would be ideal."
They say goodbye, and he leaves her room wondering why he felt such urgency to see her in the first place. If she had been injured Captain Pike surely would have informed him. But it was undeniably agreeable to see her again. He has no doubt that working with her all year will be a highly satisfying experience.
***
The new semester progresses in a highly agreeable manner. Spock's new class on interspecies ethics proves an intellectually exciting challenge. The first trials of his no-win scenario simulation test are highly successful. And, most of all, working with Uhura every day is extremely rewarding.
The very first week of their work together, she initiates the practice of speaking different dialects together every day. Some days they speak one of the Vulcan dialects, other days they speak Romulan. Three weeks into the semester she surprises him by speaking in Common Andorian. His replies are choppy and poorly structured. After several minutes he gives up and admits to Uhura in his native dialect that his Andorian is sadly deficient.
She raises her eyebrows. "And you have no desire to practice?"
The corners of his mouth twitch up. "I fear that if we restrict ourselves to Andorian during our work hours we will accomplish very little. However, practice would be beneficial. Perhaps you can join me for lunch tomorrow and we can practice as we eat?"
A slow smile spreads across her face. "That sounds like fun."
Spock cannot help but concur. It does sound like fun.
Their lunch goes so well that they decide to make it a weekly engagement. As long as Spock is in the office he feels obliged to keep their conversations focused on the tasks at hand. Their lunches are the one time in the week when Spock feels entirely comfortable forgetting about work. He is pleased to finally have the opportunity to get to know Uhura not merely as a cadet, but as a person.
At first they meet for their lunches in one of the dining halls on campus. But Spock finds that he prefers a more private atmosphere. They soon begin meeting for lunch at several small restaurants not far from campus.
"So," she asks one day in late October, as they share a meal at an Indian restaurant, "do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?"
He swallows his bite of Aloo Palak, and replies, "I shall be joining my uncle and his family in Seattle."
"Oh? I didn't realize you had any family here on Earth." She takes a bite of her samosa.
"Yes. My mother's brother, his wife, and their two daughters. One of my cousins is also recently married. I was obliged to attend her wedding over the summer."
Uhura gives him a pointed look. "I take it you don't much care for your uncle and his family."
She has learned to read his expressions and inflections more quickly than any of his other friends. He assumes that her prior experience living among Vulcans gives her an advantage, but he admits the possibility that she may simply be more insightful than his other friends. "I do not. Our personalities are highly incompatible. I visit them every year for Thanksgiving out of a sense of obligation to my mother. And they tolerate my yearly visits for the same reason."
"That's too bad," she says. "If you got along better they would have provided a great forum to explore human culture with greater depth."
"Perhaps." He nods. "However, I have found ample opportunities to investigate human culture with my friends, whose company is vastly preferable to my uncle's family."
"Hmm. I was wondering--are friendships between Vulcans very different than they are between humans?" She sips her lassi.
"From what I understand there is considerably less jesting between Vulcan friends, but the relationships are similar in most other respects."
Her eyebrows shoot up. "From what you understand?"
With a sudden inexplicable lurch in his stomach, he realizes just how much he has given away.
"Do you mean," she continues, "that you've never had any Vulcan friends?"
He looks down at his plate. There is no logical reason for his discomfort, but he nonetheless perceives a twinge of embarrassment. "No. When I was a boy, my peers looked unfavorably on me due to my Human heritage. Perhaps adult Vulcans would not have harbored such an illogical prejudice had I remained on Vulcan long enough to form adult friendships; however, I have witnessed some evidence to the contrary."
"Spock! That's horrible!" Her brows knit in an obvious show of concern.
"Do not allow it to trouble you. I have never had any difficulties forming friendships here on Earth."
The corner of her mouth tilts upward. "Except with your relatives."
His own lips twitch in return. "There are always exceptions."
He is grateful that she ceases to probe his relationships back on Vulcan. At the end of their meal, as they exit the restaurant, she says, "You know--if you ever get tired of spending Thanksgiving with your relatives in Seattle, you could always come with me to my parents' house in Nairobi."
"Indeed?" He raises an eyebrow. "Do you have the authority to invite guests to your parents' home?"
She smiles and shrugs. "Sure I do."
He stands still, his mind turning over the fascinating prospect of seeing Uhura in her native environment. But no matter how appealing the prospect is, she is his subordinate and a cadet. Such a visit would be inappropriate.
"I appreciate the offer," he says. "But my mother would be disappointed if I do not maintain my engagement with her brother."
She looks him in the eyes, her beaded earrings dancing in the breeze. "I understand. Maybe next year."
"Perhaps." As they walk slowly back to campus, the prospect of spending a holiday with Uhura and her family grows increasingly appealing. But he cannot alter his plans. At least, not this year.
***
It is the twenty-first of December, and, for the most part, the dormitories are already empty, the semester having ended on the eighteenth. For the second time this year Spock finds himself walking through the corridor of the dormitory and chiming the door of Cadet Uhura's quarters.
"Come in!" she calls over the intercom.
The door slides aside, and Spock steps inside. "Hello, Cadet Uhura," he says from behind the partition that obscures the entryway, just in case she isn't decent.
"Commander! Hello! Come on in."
He steps around the partition, and sees Uhura standing beside an open duffel on her bed, which appears to be only half-packed. The other side of the room is in a state of tremendous disarray with clothes, PADDs and blankets tossed haphazardly across the bed and even the floor. It seems that Uhura's statement at the beginning of the semester regarding her roommate's habits was not exaggerated.
"Excuse the mess," she says with a smile, folding a pair of slacks and putting them into her duffel. "Gaila was in a hurry to catch her shuttle. She's spending her holiday at some sort of singles' resort."
"An interesting choice."
She laughs as she continues packing. "Gaila's an interesting person. So, what brings you here, Commander?"
He toys with the tiny package in his hands, his face feeling suddenly warm. "I believe that on Earth it is customary to exchange gifts with one's friends at the conclusion of the year." He extends his arm, holding out the minute box wrapped in shiny red paper. "This is for you."
Uhura halts her package and stares with wide eyes at the small package. "Commander… I…" She looks up to meet his eyes, wearing the soft mysterious smile that he has only seen on four other occasions. "Thank you."
She takes the package, and carefully peels open the red paper, exposing the plain white box inside. She opens the box to reveal the data chip inside. "What is it?"
"Earlier this semester you expressed an interest in learning more about Vulcan music. I have assembled an historical survey of major Vulcan composers spanning nearly one thousand years. The chip contains over two hundred hours of audio recordings, along with historical and biographical annotations."
She clutches the data chip as if it were something precious that she dares not lose, and continues to wear her mysterious smile. "Thank you. This is perfect."
Her eyes dart back up. "Do you really think of me as a friend?"
As always, Spock appreciates her frankness. "Yes. I do."
For a moment she looks down at her hands, and then a new expression transforms her features. She meets his eyes again with what he can only describe as a look of bold confidence. "I didn't know you celebrated Christmas, or I would've gotten something for you in return."
Before he can tell her that it is of no importance, she continues. "But fate's on our side today. Before heading home I'm taking an overnight trip to Mexico City for the annual Jazz Under the Stars Festival tonight. I bought two tickets hoping I could get a friend to come with me, but no one was free."
She walks over to her desk and picks up a thin plastic strip. She holds it out to him. "So… I still have an extra ticket. I'd like to give it to you."
Both of his eyebrows climb upward, and his eyes dart between the outstretched ticket and her steady gaze. "You would like me to accompany you to the Jazz Festival?"
"Yes. I never would have thought to invite my boss, but since we're friends now… I thought you might like to join me?"
He ponders the proposition for several moments, and her confident gaze never falters from his face. He has never engaged in social outings with cadets before. But, as he stated earlier, he genuinely does think of Uhura as a friend. Under the circumstances he can see nothing wrong with accepting her invitation.
He reaches out to take the ticket. "Yes. I would enjoy accompanying you to the Festival."
She lets out a long breath, as if she has been holding it in. "Great. Wonderful. That's… that's great. I'm catching the shuttle to Mexico City in two hours. How about you meet me at the shuttle-port? I need to finish packing, and I'll call my hotel and see if I can get you a room. OK?"
He nods. "That is acceptable. I shall go pack an overnight bag."
They say goodbye, and Spock begins his walk back to the Officers' apartments wondering what exactly he has just gotten himself into.
They arrive in Mexico City in the early evening, and after dropping their bags off at their hotel, they go to a restaurant for dinner. For the first time they talk only in Federation Standard as they eat. There is no work, there is no language practice. There are only two friends enjoying an evening out together.
He has never seen Uhura so relaxed and happy. It is highly agreeable. He watches the way her earrings dangle and twist as she drinks her wine. Tonight her earrings are intricate webs of amber beads woven together with delicate gold links. They compliment the warm glow of her skin perfectly.
"You know," she says, running her hand through her loose hair as they leave the restaurant, "I think this is the first time I've ever seen you out of uniform."
He glances down at his dark gray trousers and white sweater--one of the few non-uniform outfits he possesses. "I believe you are correct."
She is wearing blue jeans and a thick maroon sweater that hangs down past her hips. The evening is pleasantly cool--he judges it to be approximately seventeen degrees Celsius. Ideal conditions for an outdoor concert.
When they arrive at the festival, he is surprised to find that rather than the expected concert arena, it takes place in a sprawling green park, dotted with various stages and vendor booths. Together they wander through the crowds, occasionally stopping to sit or stand on the thick green grass near one of the stages to listen to a set.
Spock has always been intrigued by jazz. All Vulcan music is rigidly structured and mathematically arranged--no potential for improvisation is ever allowed. In contrast, jazz is utterly reliant on the improvisational skills of the performers. It is fascinating. No matter how logical his predictions for the flow of the piece are, he is inevitably wrong. Yet, even though the music defies logic, it remains aesthetically pleasing, and highly satisfying.
The festival is confusing and noisy, surrounded as they are by thousands of raucous people eating, drinking, and dancing to the music coming from the various stages. A few years earlier such a situation would have seemed chaotic and frustrating to Spock, but he assumes that he must now be more acclimatized to Human behavior than he once was, for he finds himself enjoying this glimpse into the varied and fascinating world of Human social interaction.
Uhura imbibes two more glasses of wine as the night deepens, and finally declares herself "slightly tipsy."
They find a stage where a band plays slow, soulful music, and take a seat on a grassy rise nearby.
Spock notices several couples nearby engaging in public displays of affection. He shakes his head. "I have never understood why Humans feel so few qualms about displaying their mating rituals in such a public fashion."
Uhura laughs. "They're just caught up in the emotion of the moment. I like it." She turns to look at him. "But then, you Vulcans barely even seem to have mating rituals, you hide them so well."
His mind drifts to T'Pring. He has not thought of her in a very long time. "We most certainly have them."
"The Vulcan girl I lived with when I was fourteen told me that she was betrothed when she was seven. Is that a pretty common practice?" She pulls her knees in to her chest and wraps her arms around her bent legs.
"Fairly common," he replies. "The last time I read any statistics on the matter, it was reported that forty-eight percent of married Vulcans were betrothed as children."
"So what do the other fifty-two percent do?" She smiles sleepily and rests her chin on her knees.
This turn in their conversation is odd, but Spock sees no harm in improving her understanding of Vulcan culture. "They engage in what are known as choice-matches. Generally, as un-betrothed Vulcans near an age at which they must marry," he chooses to leave out the unpleasant biological details, "they turn to their friends and family for assistance in finding a suitable match. Once they become sufficiently acquainted with the possible candidates, they determine who among them will make the most compatible match and enter into an engagement. Then, eventually, they marry."
"So even as adults, Vulcans rely on their friends and family to help them choose a mate?"
"Not always." Her gaze is intense, and he looks away, toward the band performing onstage. "In a small number of unions the involved parties solicit no advice, but rather discover their choice-mates on their own, and enter into engagements without any advice or consent from anyone but themselves. This is the rarest of all types of Vulcan marriages." He refrains from telling her that his parents' marriage was just such a match.
"I like that." He can hear her smile without even looking at her face. "That must be the Vulcan equivalent of falling madly in love."
Now he does turn to look at her. Her eyes are shining in the dim light, and her expression seems dreamy and faraway. He assumes it must be a result of her mild inebriation.
"So," she raises her head, "have you started looking for your choice-mate, yet?"
For a moment Spock ponders the possibility that she might be flirting with him. And that very possibility fills him with a highly illogical surge of excitement. He turns away from her gaze again.
"No," he says flatly. "I am betrothed."
She does not reply for a long time. Though the sounds of the band and the crowd continue to fill the air, Spock has a distinct impression of being enveloped in silence.
"Oh," she finally says, in a soft, almost-choked voice. "I just thought that since your parents had a less traditional marriage, they wouldn't have… you wouldn't be…"
"I understand. My father may have chosen a non-traditional marriage for himself, but he desired that I follow all Vulcan traditions to the best of my ability. That included betrothing me in the traditional manner when I was seven years old."
Silence once more descends. It seems as if a thick barrier has somehow been inserted between them, and Spock has no idea how to remove it. He studies Uhura intently, but her eyes remain fixed on the band. All the joy and relaxation has vanished from her face, and it now seems that she wears a blank, impassive mask.
Finally, she is the one to break the silence. "May I ask you a personal question?"
"You may."
"What's her name?" Her request is simple, yet it feels heavy, as if she carries a large burden behind her words.
"Her name is T'Pring."
She nods slowly, her eyes still locked on the band. "What is she like?"
"I--" The question is unexpected, and he is uncertain of how to answer. "I am not certain," he finally says. "I have not spoken to her in more than eight years."
Now Uhura's head snaps around to look at him, her eyes dancing with light. "Why not?"
"I saw no purpose in it."
"No purpose? No purpose?" The pitch of her inquiry rises precipitously. "You have to talk to her. How else are you going to know if you're actually compatible? How will you know if you have plans and goals that will mesh? You have to get to know her. It's crucial!"
Spock has never seen her speak with such passionate intensity about anything before. "Your suggestions do have some merit."
"You're damn right they do! It would be completely illogical to commit to spend your life with someone without even knowing if you were compatible."
He nods slowly. "Perhaps you are correct. I shall spend some time considering your suggestion."
"Good." She stretches her legs out and leans back onto her elbows. She tips her head back and stares up at the star-filled sky. "I'd hate to see you end up with a wife you don't get along with."
Spock continues to study Uhura's face, but it is impossible to determine the emotions behind her words. "I appreciate your concern."
"You're welcome. That's what friends are for." He detects a slight quaver in her voice as she says the word friends.
After another moment of silence, she says, "I'm getting tired. When this set ends, let's go back to the hotel."
"That is acceptable."
Uhura tips her head back toward the stage to watch the band performing, and Spock shifts his gaze to do the same.
He tries to simply enjoy the experience of listening to the music with his friend, but he cannot stop himself from wishing--just for a moment--that she could be something more.
~The End~
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I am already working on a sequel--and yes, things will heat up between Spock and Uhura quite a bit in the sequel--but I'm also crazy busy right now so it might be a couple of weeks before I can start posting. Just keep your eyes open for it and it'll be up sooner or later.
Title: Human Relationships: Friendship, part 3/3
Characters/pairings: Spock, Amanda, Sarek, T'Pring, Pike, Uhura, pre-Spock/Uhura
Rating: PG
Words: 5,100
Disclaimer: Star Trek sure ain't mine
Summary: After leaving Vulcan, Spock encounters many kinds of Human friendship. However, what he has yet to learn is that not all friendships are as innocent as they at first seem.
Author's Notes: Thanks again to mrstater for beta reading. Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here.
Chapter 3
A week before Spock's departure for Starfleet Academy he made one final call to T'Pring. Her thoughts had settled even more over the years. When he felt her presence at all, it was something akin to a faint breeze caressing his face.
"Your decision not to attend the Science Academy is most illogical," she said.
"I am aware of that perception. However, I am confident with my choice, and look forward to my Starfleet career."
T'Pring studied his face, and for a moment he thought he could feel her mind reaching out to him--searching. For a fleeting moment he wanted her to come see him in person for the first time since their bonding. He wanted her to ask him not to leave. He wanted her to care.
"I accept your decision. Live long and prosper, Spock."
He controlled his disappointment before responding. "Live long and prosper, T'Pring."
After his first three days in the dorms at Starfleet Academy, Spock began to agree with T'Pring's assessment--his decision to come to Earth seemed very illogical. Though Spock had made several extended visits to Earth in the past with his parents, he always stayed in a Vulcan embassy or consulate, surrounded by other Vulcans. The experiences were wholly inadequate to prepare him for actually living among humans on his own.
The noise, the chaos, the clutter, and the ever-present irrationality were almost overwhelming. He began to wonder if he had made a mistake.
He was fortunate in his roommate, a soft spoken and intellectually inclined young human specializing in xenobiology named Chin-Hwa Pong.
On the evening of their third day as roommates, Spock sat on his bed trying to meditate, but the noise from the halls was far too distracting.
Chin-Hwa spoke. "If all this partying doesn't settle down in a week or two, I don't know how I'm going to keep my grades up."
Spock looked over at his roommate. "I concur. I have no understanding of how such unruly young men and women were ever considered capable of serving as Starfleet Cadets."
Unexpectedly, Chin-Hwa laughed. "No kidding. But the real problem is these rooms. The sound-proofing is almost non-existent."
"Recently, I read of a new transparent nanofiber resin that was developed to provide lightweight, space-saving soundproofing insulation aboard starships. It seems that it would require relatively little time or effort to upgrade the dormitories with such a material."
"Yeah," replied Chin-Hwa. "Hey--you know, I have a cousin who works in new materials research and development for Starfleet. I wonder if he can get his hands on some of that resin for us."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "It seems an endeavor worthy of further inquiry."
Three days later Chin-Hwa received a small parcel from his cousin--it was the resin. Spock and Chin-Hwa pushed all of their furniture and belongings to the center of the room and carefully brushed a thin layer of the resin over their walls, ceiling, and door. The effort took them more than six hours.
Once the resin dried they pushed the furniture back where it belonged. The room looked perfectly normal, as if nothing had been done at all.
"How can we tell if it's working?" asked Chin-Hwa.
"Simple." Spock strode to the door and opened it. A sudden barrage of noise flooded their room. Spock stepped back inside and closed the door. The sound ceased immediately.
Chin-Hwa started to laugh. "Perfect!"
Spock nodded. "The results are most satisfactory."
The next day, Chin-Hwa invited Spock to sit with him at lunch in the cafeteria. Soon, they and a small group of fellow cadets were eating almost every meal together.
Three weeks later, when Spock told his mother about Chin-Hwa, she said, "I'm so happy that you've made a friend! I was so worried you'd be lonely without me."
Spock was startled. It had not even occurred to him that, for the first time in his life, he had a friend.
***
Spock knows that while visiting cadets in their dormitories is not against regulation, it is certainly not looked on favorably. However, his concern for Cadet Uhura's well-being currently overrides his sense of propriety.
"Enter!" her voice calls over the intercom shortly after he pushes her door-chime.
The door slides open, and Spock steps inside, navigating around the entryway partition and back into the sleeping area. As soon as Uhura sees him, her eyes widen and she leaps to her feet from where she sat reclining on her bed.
"Commander--what are you…? I wasn't expecting you." Uhura's hair is longer by approximately three inches than when he last saw her, and is tucked behind her ears, which are adorned by simple silver hoops. She wears tight gray leggings and a loose, wide-necked tunic of thin white fabric. Her tunic has slid to one side, baring her shoulder and revealing the thin red strap of her bra. Her feet are bare, and the toenails of one foot are painted a deep purple, while the nails of the other foot are unpainted. A small container of nail polish sits on her bedside table.
He has never seen her in such casual attire before, and he halts, momentarily at a loss for words as his eyes take in every detail of her appearance, the rate of his heartbeat inexplicably increasing. Quickly he recovers from his surprise and straightens his stance, clasping his hands behind his back.
"I apologize for intruding on your privacy."
"No! No. Don't worry about it." She waves her hands in front of her and smiles.
He relaxes slightly. "Captain Pike just informed me of the altercation last night, and I came to inquire after your well-being."
Her face softens into a mysterious smile unlike any he has seen her wear before. "You were worried about me?"
Concerned, certainly, but Spock is unsure if he would go so far as to say worried. "As you were traveling with Captain Pike on my recommendation, I bear some responsibility for your safety. I trust you are unharmed?"
The Captain was unspecific about the exact nature of the bar fight, but he had said that it began when one of the local patrons made unwanted advances on Cadet Uhura, and that several cadets received minor injuries. The thought of Uhura coming to harm in a fistfight fills Spock with unpleasant tension.
The soft smile on her face transforms into a tight-lipped grin. "I'm fine. I can take care of myself."
"I did not intend to imply otherwise."
She closes her eyes and shakes her head a little before looking back up at him. "Of course you didn't. I'm sorry. It's just that I was one of only three female cadets on Captain Pike's recruitment tour, and after the first few days all the boys started developing some sort of chivalry complex or something."
Spock raises an eyebrow. "Is chivalry not a synonym for courtesy?"
Uhura tilts her head and shrugs. "Kind of--but it's more than just courtesy. It's…it's putting women up on a pedestal and treating them like something special that needs to be cared for and protected." She looks him in the eye and wags a pointed finger. "And I will not be put on some damn pedestal just so a bunch of oversexed cadets can feel manly and heroic. I'm training to be an officer, not a damsel in distress who needs rescuing."
Spock is beginning to understand. "So the root of your problem is the attitude of protectiveness and exaggerated deference exhibited by the male cadets in your company? It sounds as though their behavior indicated a lack of faith in your ability to care for yourself, thereby demonstrating disrespect for your capabilities."
"Exactly. It's the twenty-third century, for God's sake. You'd think men would realize by now that women are more than just fragile creatures that needed guidance and protection. The guy at the bar was just hitting on me. He didn't do anything out of line. And those Neanderthals in cadets' uniforms decided to kick his ass to prove themselves to me, or some other sort of equally ridiculous motive."
Spock furrows his brow. "It is most unfortunate that some of our cadets continue to exhibit such a striking lack of social intelligence."
She laughs, and the sound of it relaxes him. It has been too long since he heard the sound of her laughter. She sits back down on her bed, and gestures at the other bed.
"Have a seat. My roommate's not back from summer break yet, so this is probably one of the last times this year her side of the room will actually be clean."
Spock gingerly lowers himself to the edge of the crisply-made bed, and sits with a stiff spine. "Did your fellow cadets' behavior cause you to regret ending your internship early in order to accompany Captain Pike?"
"Not at all. I was glad for the chance to get to know the Captain. He's an amazing officer. And we got a chance to visit the shipyard in Iowa to see the Enterprise. She's going to be beautiful."
Spock nods. "I have reviewed the plans for the ship. It will be the most exceptional vessel in the fleet."
"And," Uhura leans forward, "rumor has it that Pike is going to be her first Captain. You're his friend. Has he said anything to you?"
He can see the eagerness on her face. It is clear that she harbors interest in a posting on the Enterprise, and Spock experiences a sensation of pleased anticipation at the thought that they may someday serve together on that vessel. "He has indeed been selected to serve as captain of the Enterprise. I am certain that you made a positive impression on him. When the time comes to assign a crew to the ship, I have no doubt that your experience in his company will increase your likelihood of obtaining a post aboard the Enterprise."
The grin on her face is positively childlike. He has never seen her so excited.
"Thank you so much for recommending me for the recruiting tour. Anything to help me get a spot on the Enterprise. I don't think I've ever wanted anything more than I want a place on that ship."
"If your academic performance continues at its current level, I am virtually certain that you will have your wish."
She grins some more, and Spock is pleased to have been the source of her delight.
He is tempted to stay with her longer, but he is concerned that spending too much unchaperoned time in a cadet's living quarters would be unwise. "I must excuse myself. Now that I am assured of your state of good health, I must return to my work. I have much preparation to complete before the semester begins."
She seems to understand. "Okay. When should I start work? I'm free all day every day until classes begin next week. I could help you prep for the semester, if you need it."
He ponders her request for a moment. He does not technically require her assistance; however, he admits to himself that her company would be pleasant. "Are you available at fourteen hundred hours tomorrow?"
"I am. Should I meet you at your office?"
He nods. "That would be ideal."
They say goodbye, and he leaves her room wondering why he felt such urgency to see her in the first place. If she had been injured Captain Pike surely would have informed him. But it was undeniably agreeable to see her again. He has no doubt that working with her all year will be a highly satisfying experience.
***
The new semester progresses in a highly agreeable manner. Spock's new class on interspecies ethics proves an intellectually exciting challenge. The first trials of his no-win scenario simulation test are highly successful. And, most of all, working with Uhura every day is extremely rewarding.
The very first week of their work together, she initiates the practice of speaking different dialects together every day. Some days they speak one of the Vulcan dialects, other days they speak Romulan. Three weeks into the semester she surprises him by speaking in Common Andorian. His replies are choppy and poorly structured. After several minutes he gives up and admits to Uhura in his native dialect that his Andorian is sadly deficient.
She raises her eyebrows. "And you have no desire to practice?"
The corners of his mouth twitch up. "I fear that if we restrict ourselves to Andorian during our work hours we will accomplish very little. However, practice would be beneficial. Perhaps you can join me for lunch tomorrow and we can practice as we eat?"
A slow smile spreads across her face. "That sounds like fun."
Spock cannot help but concur. It does sound like fun.
Their lunch goes so well that they decide to make it a weekly engagement. As long as Spock is in the office he feels obliged to keep their conversations focused on the tasks at hand. Their lunches are the one time in the week when Spock feels entirely comfortable forgetting about work. He is pleased to finally have the opportunity to get to know Uhura not merely as a cadet, but as a person.
At first they meet for their lunches in one of the dining halls on campus. But Spock finds that he prefers a more private atmosphere. They soon begin meeting for lunch at several small restaurants not far from campus.
"So," she asks one day in late October, as they share a meal at an Indian restaurant, "do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?"
He swallows his bite of Aloo Palak, and replies, "I shall be joining my uncle and his family in Seattle."
"Oh? I didn't realize you had any family here on Earth." She takes a bite of her samosa.
"Yes. My mother's brother, his wife, and their two daughters. One of my cousins is also recently married. I was obliged to attend her wedding over the summer."
Uhura gives him a pointed look. "I take it you don't much care for your uncle and his family."
She has learned to read his expressions and inflections more quickly than any of his other friends. He assumes that her prior experience living among Vulcans gives her an advantage, but he admits the possibility that she may simply be more insightful than his other friends. "I do not. Our personalities are highly incompatible. I visit them every year for Thanksgiving out of a sense of obligation to my mother. And they tolerate my yearly visits for the same reason."
"That's too bad," she says. "If you got along better they would have provided a great forum to explore human culture with greater depth."
"Perhaps." He nods. "However, I have found ample opportunities to investigate human culture with my friends, whose company is vastly preferable to my uncle's family."
"Hmm. I was wondering--are friendships between Vulcans very different than they are between humans?" She sips her lassi.
"From what I understand there is considerably less jesting between Vulcan friends, but the relationships are similar in most other respects."
Her eyebrows shoot up. "From what you understand?"
With a sudden inexplicable lurch in his stomach, he realizes just how much he has given away.
"Do you mean," she continues, "that you've never had any Vulcan friends?"
He looks down at his plate. There is no logical reason for his discomfort, but he nonetheless perceives a twinge of embarrassment. "No. When I was a boy, my peers looked unfavorably on me due to my Human heritage. Perhaps adult Vulcans would not have harbored such an illogical prejudice had I remained on Vulcan long enough to form adult friendships; however, I have witnessed some evidence to the contrary."
"Spock! That's horrible!" Her brows knit in an obvious show of concern.
"Do not allow it to trouble you. I have never had any difficulties forming friendships here on Earth."
The corner of her mouth tilts upward. "Except with your relatives."
His own lips twitch in return. "There are always exceptions."
He is grateful that she ceases to probe his relationships back on Vulcan. At the end of their meal, as they exit the restaurant, she says, "You know--if you ever get tired of spending Thanksgiving with your relatives in Seattle, you could always come with me to my parents' house in Nairobi."
"Indeed?" He raises an eyebrow. "Do you have the authority to invite guests to your parents' home?"
She smiles and shrugs. "Sure I do."
He stands still, his mind turning over the fascinating prospect of seeing Uhura in her native environment. But no matter how appealing the prospect is, she is his subordinate and a cadet. Such a visit would be inappropriate.
"I appreciate the offer," he says. "But my mother would be disappointed if I do not maintain my engagement with her brother."
She looks him in the eyes, her beaded earrings dancing in the breeze. "I understand. Maybe next year."
"Perhaps." As they walk slowly back to campus, the prospect of spending a holiday with Uhura and her family grows increasingly appealing. But he cannot alter his plans. At least, not this year.
***
It is the twenty-first of December, and, for the most part, the dormitories are already empty, the semester having ended on the eighteenth. For the second time this year Spock finds himself walking through the corridor of the dormitory and chiming the door of Cadet Uhura's quarters.
"Come in!" she calls over the intercom.
The door slides aside, and Spock steps inside. "Hello, Cadet Uhura," he says from behind the partition that obscures the entryway, just in case she isn't decent.
"Commander! Hello! Come on in."
He steps around the partition, and sees Uhura standing beside an open duffel on her bed, which appears to be only half-packed. The other side of the room is in a state of tremendous disarray with clothes, PADDs and blankets tossed haphazardly across the bed and even the floor. It seems that Uhura's statement at the beginning of the semester regarding her roommate's habits was not exaggerated.
"Excuse the mess," she says with a smile, folding a pair of slacks and putting them into her duffel. "Gaila was in a hurry to catch her shuttle. She's spending her holiday at some sort of singles' resort."
"An interesting choice."
She laughs as she continues packing. "Gaila's an interesting person. So, what brings you here, Commander?"
He toys with the tiny package in his hands, his face feeling suddenly warm. "I believe that on Earth it is customary to exchange gifts with one's friends at the conclusion of the year." He extends his arm, holding out the minute box wrapped in shiny red paper. "This is for you."
Uhura halts her package and stares with wide eyes at the small package. "Commander… I…" She looks up to meet his eyes, wearing the soft mysterious smile that he has only seen on four other occasions. "Thank you."
She takes the package, and carefully peels open the red paper, exposing the plain white box inside. She opens the box to reveal the data chip inside. "What is it?"
"Earlier this semester you expressed an interest in learning more about Vulcan music. I have assembled an historical survey of major Vulcan composers spanning nearly one thousand years. The chip contains over two hundred hours of audio recordings, along with historical and biographical annotations."
She clutches the data chip as if it were something precious that she dares not lose, and continues to wear her mysterious smile. "Thank you. This is perfect."
Her eyes dart back up. "Do you really think of me as a friend?"
As always, Spock appreciates her frankness. "Yes. I do."
For a moment she looks down at her hands, and then a new expression transforms her features. She meets his eyes again with what he can only describe as a look of bold confidence. "I didn't know you celebrated Christmas, or I would've gotten something for you in return."
Before he can tell her that it is of no importance, she continues. "But fate's on our side today. Before heading home I'm taking an overnight trip to Mexico City for the annual Jazz Under the Stars Festival tonight. I bought two tickets hoping I could get a friend to come with me, but no one was free."
She walks over to her desk and picks up a thin plastic strip. She holds it out to him. "So… I still have an extra ticket. I'd like to give it to you."
Both of his eyebrows climb upward, and his eyes dart between the outstretched ticket and her steady gaze. "You would like me to accompany you to the Jazz Festival?"
"Yes. I never would have thought to invite my boss, but since we're friends now… I thought you might like to join me?"
He ponders the proposition for several moments, and her confident gaze never falters from his face. He has never engaged in social outings with cadets before. But, as he stated earlier, he genuinely does think of Uhura as a friend. Under the circumstances he can see nothing wrong with accepting her invitation.
He reaches out to take the ticket. "Yes. I would enjoy accompanying you to the Festival."
She lets out a long breath, as if she has been holding it in. "Great. Wonderful. That's… that's great. I'm catching the shuttle to Mexico City in two hours. How about you meet me at the shuttle-port? I need to finish packing, and I'll call my hotel and see if I can get you a room. OK?"
He nods. "That is acceptable. I shall go pack an overnight bag."
They say goodbye, and Spock begins his walk back to the Officers' apartments wondering what exactly he has just gotten himself into.
They arrive in Mexico City in the early evening, and after dropping their bags off at their hotel, they go to a restaurant for dinner. For the first time they talk only in Federation Standard as they eat. There is no work, there is no language practice. There are only two friends enjoying an evening out together.
He has never seen Uhura so relaxed and happy. It is highly agreeable. He watches the way her earrings dangle and twist as she drinks her wine. Tonight her earrings are intricate webs of amber beads woven together with delicate gold links. They compliment the warm glow of her skin perfectly.
"You know," she says, running her hand through her loose hair as they leave the restaurant, "I think this is the first time I've ever seen you out of uniform."
He glances down at his dark gray trousers and white sweater--one of the few non-uniform outfits he possesses. "I believe you are correct."
She is wearing blue jeans and a thick maroon sweater that hangs down past her hips. The evening is pleasantly cool--he judges it to be approximately seventeen degrees Celsius. Ideal conditions for an outdoor concert.
When they arrive at the festival, he is surprised to find that rather than the expected concert arena, it takes place in a sprawling green park, dotted with various stages and vendor booths. Together they wander through the crowds, occasionally stopping to sit or stand on the thick green grass near one of the stages to listen to a set.
Spock has always been intrigued by jazz. All Vulcan music is rigidly structured and mathematically arranged--no potential for improvisation is ever allowed. In contrast, jazz is utterly reliant on the improvisational skills of the performers. It is fascinating. No matter how logical his predictions for the flow of the piece are, he is inevitably wrong. Yet, even though the music defies logic, it remains aesthetically pleasing, and highly satisfying.
The festival is confusing and noisy, surrounded as they are by thousands of raucous people eating, drinking, and dancing to the music coming from the various stages. A few years earlier such a situation would have seemed chaotic and frustrating to Spock, but he assumes that he must now be more acclimatized to Human behavior than he once was, for he finds himself enjoying this glimpse into the varied and fascinating world of Human social interaction.
Uhura imbibes two more glasses of wine as the night deepens, and finally declares herself "slightly tipsy."
They find a stage where a band plays slow, soulful music, and take a seat on a grassy rise nearby.
Spock notices several couples nearby engaging in public displays of affection. He shakes his head. "I have never understood why Humans feel so few qualms about displaying their mating rituals in such a public fashion."
Uhura laughs. "They're just caught up in the emotion of the moment. I like it." She turns to look at him. "But then, you Vulcans barely even seem to have mating rituals, you hide them so well."
His mind drifts to T'Pring. He has not thought of her in a very long time. "We most certainly have them."
"The Vulcan girl I lived with when I was fourteen told me that she was betrothed when she was seven. Is that a pretty common practice?" She pulls her knees in to her chest and wraps her arms around her bent legs.
"Fairly common," he replies. "The last time I read any statistics on the matter, it was reported that forty-eight percent of married Vulcans were betrothed as children."
"So what do the other fifty-two percent do?" She smiles sleepily and rests her chin on her knees.
This turn in their conversation is odd, but Spock sees no harm in improving her understanding of Vulcan culture. "They engage in what are known as choice-matches. Generally, as un-betrothed Vulcans near an age at which they must marry," he chooses to leave out the unpleasant biological details, "they turn to their friends and family for assistance in finding a suitable match. Once they become sufficiently acquainted with the possible candidates, they determine who among them will make the most compatible match and enter into an engagement. Then, eventually, they marry."
"So even as adults, Vulcans rely on their friends and family to help them choose a mate?"
"Not always." Her gaze is intense, and he looks away, toward the band performing onstage. "In a small number of unions the involved parties solicit no advice, but rather discover their choice-mates on their own, and enter into engagements without any advice or consent from anyone but themselves. This is the rarest of all types of Vulcan marriages." He refrains from telling her that his parents' marriage was just such a match.
"I like that." He can hear her smile without even looking at her face. "That must be the Vulcan equivalent of falling madly in love."
Now he does turn to look at her. Her eyes are shining in the dim light, and her expression seems dreamy and faraway. He assumes it must be a result of her mild inebriation.
"So," she raises her head, "have you started looking for your choice-mate, yet?"
For a moment Spock ponders the possibility that she might be flirting with him. And that very possibility fills him with a highly illogical surge of excitement. He turns away from her gaze again.
"No," he says flatly. "I am betrothed."
She does not reply for a long time. Though the sounds of the band and the crowd continue to fill the air, Spock has a distinct impression of being enveloped in silence.
"Oh," she finally says, in a soft, almost-choked voice. "I just thought that since your parents had a less traditional marriage, they wouldn't have… you wouldn't be…"
"I understand. My father may have chosen a non-traditional marriage for himself, but he desired that I follow all Vulcan traditions to the best of my ability. That included betrothing me in the traditional manner when I was seven years old."
Silence once more descends. It seems as if a thick barrier has somehow been inserted between them, and Spock has no idea how to remove it. He studies Uhura intently, but her eyes remain fixed on the band. All the joy and relaxation has vanished from her face, and it now seems that she wears a blank, impassive mask.
Finally, she is the one to break the silence. "May I ask you a personal question?"
"You may."
"What's her name?" Her request is simple, yet it feels heavy, as if she carries a large burden behind her words.
"Her name is T'Pring."
She nods slowly, her eyes still locked on the band. "What is she like?"
"I--" The question is unexpected, and he is uncertain of how to answer. "I am not certain," he finally says. "I have not spoken to her in more than eight years."
Now Uhura's head snaps around to look at him, her eyes dancing with light. "Why not?"
"I saw no purpose in it."
"No purpose? No purpose?" The pitch of her inquiry rises precipitously. "You have to talk to her. How else are you going to know if you're actually compatible? How will you know if you have plans and goals that will mesh? You have to get to know her. It's crucial!"
Spock has never seen her speak with such passionate intensity about anything before. "Your suggestions do have some merit."
"You're damn right they do! It would be completely illogical to commit to spend your life with someone without even knowing if you were compatible."
He nods slowly. "Perhaps you are correct. I shall spend some time considering your suggestion."
"Good." She stretches her legs out and leans back onto her elbows. She tips her head back and stares up at the star-filled sky. "I'd hate to see you end up with a wife you don't get along with."
Spock continues to study Uhura's face, but it is impossible to determine the emotions behind her words. "I appreciate your concern."
"You're welcome. That's what friends are for." He detects a slight quaver in her voice as she says the word friends.
After another moment of silence, she says, "I'm getting tired. When this set ends, let's go back to the hotel."
"That is acceptable."
Uhura tips her head back toward the stage to watch the band performing, and Spock shifts his gaze to do the same.
He tries to simply enjoy the experience of listening to the music with his friend, but he cannot stop himself from wishing--just for a moment--that she could be something more.
~The End~
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I am already working on a sequel--and yes, things will heat up between Spock and Uhura quite a bit in the sequel--but I'm also crazy busy right now so it might be a couple of weeks before I can start posting. Just keep your eyes open for it and it'll be up sooner or later.