Three Summers: Chapter 3: Flying-Away
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Uhura
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the goodness that is Star Trek
A/N: Thanks to Miranda River for her help as beta!
Chapter 1: Camping
Chapter 2: Swimming
Chapter 4: Flying - Home
Chapter 5: A Star to Guide Me
Spock sat at his desk, grading papers. It was exactly 15:21. In approximately five minutes he would have a visitor.
He did not need to neaten his office; everything was always in its place. And yet he looked around the purely functional space, just to be certain. He returned to his grading.
The door chimed. “Enter,” he called.
He did not look up as a young woman stepped through the door. “Good afternoon, Cadet Uhura.”
He heard an exasperated sigh. “How do you do that?” The young graduate student laughed and flopped into the chair in front of his desk.
He completed grading the paper before him and set it aside. He looked at her. “I have only 17 students who regularly take advantage of my office hours. I know your schedules. It is, therefore, not difficult to ascertain which of you will visit and when.”
That was not entirely true. He knew her schedule. He also knew the sound of her footsteps and the scent she wore. He reasoned that she was his most promising student; of course he would take an interest.
She shook her head, smiling at his response. “You never cease to amaze, Commander.”
He nodded his thanks for her compliment. “Well, Cadet, what puzzle do you have for me today?”
And so began their semi-regular analysis of a recent lecture or linguistics journal article or review of some communications software program, or simply a conversation in his native Vulcan. He looked forward to these discussions, finding he learned almost as much as she. She had an intelligent and curious mind united with discipline and temerity, a combination seldom seen in one so young. Not that she was so very young; she was only 3 years his junior, a fact he found by examining her profile. He justified said examination by noting it would better help him teach her. He did not take note of the fact that he’d never looked at any other student’s age.
They talked until he had to leave for a departmental meeting.
Her shoulders slumped. “I wanted to pick your brain about Pache’s latest paper on psycholinguistics amongst telepathic races,” she said, disappointed. “I’m thinking of doing my thesis on something along those lines.”
“Perhaps we can resume this discussion this evening,” he suggested as she gathered her things.
She smiled hopefully. “If you don’t mind . . . ”
“I should be available after 18:00 hours. But that will be your dinner hour, will it not?”
“True, but we can grab something off campus.”
He hesitated.
“Unless you have plans?” she asked a bit self-consciously.
“No. A meal off campus would be a welcome change from the mess hall. I will meet you at the gate at 18:15, if that is acceptable.”
“Perfect. See you then.”
During the staff meeting Spock’s thoughts were torn between the subject at hand and his upcoming meal with Cadet Uhura. Plenty of instructors socialized with students, including him; he and Chris had become friends while the captain was his advisor. This dinner, however. . . .
His thoughts were interrupted by the department head, “What about you, Spock? Will you need assistance over the summer?”
Spock considered the matter. “Yes. And I have a few candidates in mind.”
“All right then, folks, send me your student summer intern lists by close of business next Friday. That’s it.” The staff rose and dispersed. It was 17:34. He had 41 minutes to come up with an excuse to hire an intern.
***
“Cadet,” Spock said as the waiter left with their orders. “What are your plans for the summer?”
“I’d planned to get a part-time job here in town, but haven’t had time to look,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll probably just go home.”
“I find I have need of assistance this summer. I will post an announcement for an internship on my netpage. I hope you will consider applying.”
“Of course I will! What will we-I mean, you and the intern-be doing?”
“I have in mind some improvements to the universal translator. While I have the technical expertise, it would be prudent to have an accomplished linguist to assist me. I would like to finish the accompanying paper before the next semester begins.”
The young woman’s eyes were wide with excitement. “Sir, this is exactly the line of research I want to pursue! Next to getting assigned to the Enterprise, this would be a dream job.”
He raised an eyebrow. “The Enterprise? You wish to serve aboard the fleet’s new flagship?”
“Who wouldn’t? Exploring new sectors of space, new worlds, new languages, all with the latest technology?”
He didn’t tell her he’d been selected as the Enterprise’s first officer; he was not yet at liberty to do so. Nor did he tell her he had already placed her name at the top of his list of recommendations for the communications crew. He simply said, “I believe that your credentials will undoubtedly place you in contention for a position aboard the Enterprise. You need only maintain your grades.”
“And an internship with the man who will improve the universal translator won’t hurt me, either” she said with a grin.
“Indeed,” he concurred.
Their meals arrived and they spoke more about the internship.
“Sir, if I do get the position, will there be time for me to visit my family?”
“Yes,” he said with an almost inaudible sigh. Nyota thought he was unhappy at her request.
“I only need a week or so; they won’t expect anything longer . . . ”
“You would have two weeks in late July. I also will be visiting family at that time.”
“Hmm,” she said. “You don’t seem too happy about it.”
“I admit I am not entirely looking forward to it.”
“Is it a command performance by the parents?”
“No. While I look forward to spending time with my mother, my father and I . . . ”
“Understood,” she said, not wishing to pry further. “Well, I hope you have a great time with your mom. And you can restock all that delicious tea of yours I keep drinking,” she added with a smile.
“I will bring some for you, since you enjoy it.”
“That’s very thoughtful, sir, but you are already too generous, letting me monopolize your office hours, drink all your tea, and talk your ears off.” She smiled.
“Cadet, I find our discussions edifying. My ears are unharmed.”
“Glad to hear it,” she laughed. “Oooo, look at the time! I’ve gotta get back and put the finishing touches on a paper for a very particular professor of mine. Hard grader, nothing ever gets past him. Care to guess who that might be?”
“I shall not endeavor to guess. However, it is obviously an exceptional and intelligent individual.”
She laughed, but stopped as she saw him paying the bill. “Sir, please let me cover my half.”
He was confused at her expression of concern. “May I ask why?”
“Well, I’m the one who dragged you out here in the first place,” she said in a low voice. “Plus, just in case anyone saw us, we don’t want it to look like a date or anything.”
“Ah, I see your point.”
They paid the bill and headed for the shuttle in silence. He reflected on Nyota’s words. It was not a date. He had never been on a date that was so free from tension. Nyota was never uncomfortable around him, never reserved in the face of his differentness. She was one of the few humans who understood his brand of humor, and even felt comfortable enough around him to tease.
“Commander, may I ask a personal question?” Nyota asked as they boarded the shuttle back to the campus.
“You may.”
“What do you do when you’re not working? I mean for relaxation or enjoyment.”
“I play chess with some of my colleagues; I listen to and play music . . . ”
“I had no idea you were musical! A man after my own heart! What do you play?”
“The ka'athyra. Are you familiar with the instrument?”
“I’ve seen images of it but have never heard it played.”
“I would be happy to demonstrate it for you, if you are interested.”
“I would really enjoy that. Thank you.”
It did not occur to him that he had never before volunteered to play for anyone. He was trying not to notice how her eyes sparkled when she smiled up at him.
“And you sing,” he said quietly.
She looked pleasantly surprised. “How did you know?”
“I saw your performance at the holiday program. The duet was particularly impressive.”
“Thank you. I had no idea you were there. You should have said something.”
“I left after the performance. I am not fond of crowds.”
They arrived at the campus and walked toward the resident quarters.
“Cadet, may I ask why you inquired about my leisure activities?”
“Well, if I get the internship, we’ll be working on a relatively empty campus. I thought that if we had any interests in common, we could do things outside of work.”
They reached the student dorms. “Well, Cadet, if you earn the internship, it appears we will have plenty of common interests to fill our time.”
“Yes, sir. Well, here’s home. Goodnight, Commander.”
“Goodnight.” He turned to head for the instructor’s quarters, considering their conversation. If he had turned to look behind him, he would have seen Nyota looking after him, with a knit brow.
***
On the day before intern assignments were due to his department head, Spock considered the applications before him. He had been correct in assuming there would be few applicants, and no matter how he weighted the various attributes of each, Cadet Uhura came out ahead each time.
He sent a personal message to those not chosen, a note to his department head indicating his choice, and then a note of congratulations to Uhura. He was looking forward to summer.
***
Graduation ceremonies and celebrations were over. The campus swiftly emptied of its students and much of the staff. Spock sat at his desk, arranging padds in order of priority and did not pause even as he heard familiar footsteps approaching his door. He looked up as the door slid open, and noted Nyota’s look of surprise.
“You keyed the door to give me access,” she said, her hand still on the panel.
“Of course. You work here.”
She tried not to smile as she entered the room and stood at attention. “Cadet Nyota Uhura, reporting for duty, sir.”
“At ease, Cadet.” He rose and indicated a small desk and chair at the other end of the room. “Your station,” he said.
She could barely contain her excitement as she approached the desk and put her bag on the floor.
“Thank you, sir, for this opportunity.”
“You have earned it, Cadet. Tea?”
“Yes, please,” she said, grinning broadly.
He went to the small table holding the tea, kettle, and cups.
“What are we doing today, sir?” she asked as she sat and turned on her terminal.
“I have sent you the basic parameters of my research thus far. Please review the document and give me your opinion on the theories posited. I will then narrow or broaden the scope accordingly, and we will determine how best to proceed.” He placed her cup of tea on her desk, and returned to his seat with his own cup. He picked up a padd, but did not read it at once. He looked at her, her back to him as she accessed the files at her desk.
This was as he wished it to be. He was content. He did not ask himself why.
***
The mess hall served only a bare-bones breakfast and lunch over the summer. Nyota had to make due with the flash heater and small fridge in the dorm for dinners. She complained of this fact one afternoon, and it gave Spock the opening he’d searched for.
“Cadet, perhaps you would join me for dinner this evening.”
“Commander, I wasn’t fishing for an invitation . . . ”
“I did not think you were. This meal, however, would be a celebration. Our preliminary results have caught the attention of the Interplanetary Association for Communication and Cultural Exchange. We are invited to the IACCE Symposium in Paris to present our final results in August.”
Her eyes were wide. “What? I had no idea you had submitted that first batch of data.”
“I did not wish to ‘get your hopes up’. Additionally, I have come to understand that humans enjoy surprises....”
“Ohmagod! Oh, Commander!” she jumped up, thrilled “Congratulations, sir! Paris, France?”
“Yes, Cadet, France. Does this mean you will accompany me to a celebratory meal?”
“Yes, sir!” she said bouncing, in her seat.
It was some minutes before she was calm enough to resume work, but as he reminded her that they had much more research and experimentation to do before they’d be prepared for the presentation, she quickly re-focused, with only the occasional exclamation of “Paris!”
***
That evening, they went to a little restaurant with a view of the ocean. Spock ordered a bottle of Bajoran spring wine. He tried not to dwell on the way her cheeks flushed after a glass of that wine, or on the music of her laughter. He tried to ignore the way her eyes shone, and the way she spoke with her beautiful hands when she was excited. But he couldn’t help but notice how proud she was of being a part of the research team and, he realized, how proud she seemed to be of him.
He listened with upturned lips as she spoke of Paris, of the things she wanted to see and do while there, how she looked forward to speaking French again, how she intended to drag him to various museums and historical sites.
It gratified him to know that he had some part in bringing the joy she expressed. He was content. He was more than content. If he were human, he realized, he might have said he was happy.
***
Their work went well. Nyota was a thorough researcher and despite her unfamiliarity with some of the more technical aspects of Spock’s work, often anticipated his needs.
One evening, they were so engrossed in their work that neither realized how late it was getting until Nyota’s stomach growled.
“Cadet, you have not eaten.”
“Yes, I did. I had an apple earlier.”
“That was several hours ago. Come.” He stood and turned off his terminal.
“Sir, I think it’s too late to get anything in town.”
“We are not going to a restaurant. We are going to my quarters.”
“Sir, that’s very kind, but you don’t have to . . . ”
“Yes, I do. You have been working for more than 15 hours at my behest. I have plenty of food and we both need sustenance.”
She nodded, turned off her terminal, and gathered her things and followed him.
They arrived at his quarters, and she looked about curiously. The space was neat and efficiently arranged, of course, but with surprising splashes of color and an unexpected hominess.
He asked her to assist him by getting the plates and cutlery. He went to the refrigerator and pulled out two large containers and a jug of water. He placed them on the small dining table. She sat and he served the roasted vegetables with couscous, and a 7-bean salad.
After he was seated, Nyota took a bite. “Mmm! You’ll make someone a great wife someday,” she grinned.
He raised an incredulous eyebrow.
“You cook. A man who can cook is highly prized.”
“I see,” he said with slightly upturned lips. “I am glad you approve of my culinary skills.”
She returned her attention to her food, and mumbled, “Very much, Commander.”
“Miss Uhura, we are off-duty and you are in my home. Please call me Spock.”
“Nyota,” she said softly.
“Nyota,” he repeated as if testing the sound in his mouth.
She appeared to shiver. His quarters were very warm; it could not be the temperature.
“Are you well?” he asked.
“Very well,” she smiled, “just a little tired.”
“Would you care for tea?”
“Yes, si . . . Spock”
She helped him clean up the dinner things and pulled the cups from a cabinet.
“Please have a seat in the living room,” he told her. “I will bring the tea shortly.”
He found her standing before a large portrait on his wall. “Is this your mother?” she asked as he set the tea tray on the coffee table.
“Yes.”
“Spock, she’s beautiful! You have her eyes.”
He sat in a chair and poured the tea. She took a seat on the sofa. When she took up her cup to drink, she saw his ka'athyra on its stand against the opposite wall.
He followed her eyes.
“Will you play tonight?” she asked, hopeful.
“It is late. Another time.”
“I tell you what,” she said, “Let me cook for you sometime this week, and you play the ka'athyra for me. Deal?”
“I accept your proposal.”
They finished their tea and he escorted her home. They walked in silence. When they arrived at her dorm, she looked up at him and seemed about to say something. She suddenly shook her head and said, “Goodnight, Spock. Thanks for dinner.” She quickly turned away and ran up the steps.
A few days later, she arrived at his quarters with her arms full of groceries. She banned him from his own kitchen, and he sat on his sofa, reading, while she sang softly as she prepared their meal. As they ate the traditional Kenyan dishes, she spoke fondly of her home and family, and asked him about his.
He surprised himself, telling her about his less-than-pleasant childhood on Vulcan, his long-standing disagreement with his father, his cousins on Earth. Something somewhere in the corner of his mind objected to his sharing such private information. He found no trouble ignoring it.
They cleaned up the kitchen, made the tea, and Nyota sat on the sofa as he took up his ka'athyra and tuned it.
He did not look at her as he played. He focused on the music he plucked from the strings. Playing, to him, was another form of meditation, and he soon lost himself to the soothing vibrations.
He finished the piece, took a deep breath, and placed the ka'athyra upon its stand. He looked at Nyota. Her eyes were full.
“Spock,” she breathed, “that was . . . To say that was beautiful, moving, powerful . . . all understatements.” She wiped her eyes.
He nodded. “I am gratified.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she said, putting her cup down. “I...I should go now,” she rose.
Spock was disappointed. He had hoped she would stay longer.
“Shall I accompany you?”
“No, it’s still light. But thank you. Goodnight.”
“Thank you for the meal, Nyota. Goodnight.”
She smiled and left him staring at the closed door.
***
Two, sometimes three times a week they had meals in Spock’s quarters. With the campus empty except other staff and interns with similar arrangements, no one looked askance at her frequent presence there.
They traded books, often sitting for hours reading in his living room in silence. Sometimes she sang as he accompanied her. On weekends, they toured museums and galleries, or watched vids in town. They attended almost all of the performances in the summer concert series. It was on their return trip from one of the concerts, six days before their vacation, that Spock noticed something wrong.
“Nyota,” he said, concerned, “You are very quiet this evening. Are you unwell?”
“Hmm? No, I’m fine Spock.”
“Is there something troubling you?”
She sighed and looked through the window of the shuttle. “To be honest, yes, there is something on my mind.” She turned to him with a tired smile. “But it’s nothing that a couple of weeks at home resting won’t cure. I just need a break.”
“We have been working a great deal. I hope I have not asked too much of you . . . ”
“No, Spock.” She patted his sleeved arm. “It’s more of an emotional break that I need. I’ll be right as rain when we get back.”
For the remainder of the week, Nyota declined his invitations to dinner, and issued none of her own. She claimed laundry and packing and fatigue. He was at a loss. He desired her presence. The hours spent alone in his quarters were unsatisfactory. When he offered to accompany her to the international shuttle station, she declined, saying he had to prepare for his own trip.
“Nyota,” he stopped her as she left his office to leave for her flight, “Have I done something to offend you? I do not wish to part like this. Our . . . our friendship is important to me.”
She turned and searched his face. Something in her own countenance brightened a little. “Spock, you have never done anything to upset or offend me in all the time I’ve known you. I know I haven’t been myself this last week. I’ll be better when I get back. I promise.”
He nodded, unable to find words for the situation. He simply watched as she retrieved her bag. “Goodbye, Spock, have a good vacation.” She was gone.
***
Spock’s three days aboard the commercial transport to Vulcan were tedious. Meditate. Walk. Eat. Sleep. Mediate. Meditate to control the impatience. Meditate to control the confusion. Meditate to control the something he could not, would not name.
At last, he was transported from the ship onto the path leading to his parents’ home, his bag slung over his shoulder. It was mid-morning, and he hoped that he would find his mother alone. He climbed the steps two at a time, not caring who saw his unseemly haste. He entered, nodding at household staff as he made his way to his mother’s rooms. He found her in her study.
“Spock!” She rose to greet him.
“Mother.” They were alone in the room. He allowed her to embrace him, and surprised them both when his own arms surrounded her shoulders.
She looked up at him. “Spock, what is it?”
She regarded her son, felt the unfamiliar emotions through her parental bond, and hugged him closer. “I see . . . ” she said with a sad smile. “Sit. Tell me everything.”
--------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 4
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the goodness that is Star Trek
A/N: Thanks to Miranda River for her help as beta!
Chapter 1: Camping
Chapter 2: Swimming
Chapter 4: Flying - Home
Chapter 5: A Star to Guide Me
Spock sat at his desk, grading papers. It was exactly 15:21. In approximately five minutes he would have a visitor.
He did not need to neaten his office; everything was always in its place. And yet he looked around the purely functional space, just to be certain. He returned to his grading.
The door chimed. “Enter,” he called.
He did not look up as a young woman stepped through the door. “Good afternoon, Cadet Uhura.”
He heard an exasperated sigh. “How do you do that?” The young graduate student laughed and flopped into the chair in front of his desk.
He completed grading the paper before him and set it aside. He looked at her. “I have only 17 students who regularly take advantage of my office hours. I know your schedules. It is, therefore, not difficult to ascertain which of you will visit and when.”
That was not entirely true. He knew her schedule. He also knew the sound of her footsteps and the scent she wore. He reasoned that she was his most promising student; of course he would take an interest.
She shook her head, smiling at his response. “You never cease to amaze, Commander.”
He nodded his thanks for her compliment. “Well, Cadet, what puzzle do you have for me today?”
And so began their semi-regular analysis of a recent lecture or linguistics journal article or review of some communications software program, or simply a conversation in his native Vulcan. He looked forward to these discussions, finding he learned almost as much as she. She had an intelligent and curious mind united with discipline and temerity, a combination seldom seen in one so young. Not that she was so very young; she was only 3 years his junior, a fact he found by examining her profile. He justified said examination by noting it would better help him teach her. He did not take note of the fact that he’d never looked at any other student’s age.
They talked until he had to leave for a departmental meeting.
Her shoulders slumped. “I wanted to pick your brain about Pache’s latest paper on psycholinguistics amongst telepathic races,” she said, disappointed. “I’m thinking of doing my thesis on something along those lines.”
“Perhaps we can resume this discussion this evening,” he suggested as she gathered her things.
She smiled hopefully. “If you don’t mind . . . ”
“I should be available after 18:00 hours. But that will be your dinner hour, will it not?”
“True, but we can grab something off campus.”
He hesitated.
“Unless you have plans?” she asked a bit self-consciously.
“No. A meal off campus would be a welcome change from the mess hall. I will meet you at the gate at 18:15, if that is acceptable.”
“Perfect. See you then.”
During the staff meeting Spock’s thoughts were torn between the subject at hand and his upcoming meal with Cadet Uhura. Plenty of instructors socialized with students, including him; he and Chris had become friends while the captain was his advisor. This dinner, however. . . .
His thoughts were interrupted by the department head, “What about you, Spock? Will you need assistance over the summer?”
Spock considered the matter. “Yes. And I have a few candidates in mind.”
“All right then, folks, send me your student summer intern lists by close of business next Friday. That’s it.” The staff rose and dispersed. It was 17:34. He had 41 minutes to come up with an excuse to hire an intern.
***
“Cadet,” Spock said as the waiter left with their orders. “What are your plans for the summer?”
“I’d planned to get a part-time job here in town, but haven’t had time to look,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll probably just go home.”
“I find I have need of assistance this summer. I will post an announcement for an internship on my netpage. I hope you will consider applying.”
“Of course I will! What will we-I mean, you and the intern-be doing?”
“I have in mind some improvements to the universal translator. While I have the technical expertise, it would be prudent to have an accomplished linguist to assist me. I would like to finish the accompanying paper before the next semester begins.”
The young woman’s eyes were wide with excitement. “Sir, this is exactly the line of research I want to pursue! Next to getting assigned to the Enterprise, this would be a dream job.”
He raised an eyebrow. “The Enterprise? You wish to serve aboard the fleet’s new flagship?”
“Who wouldn’t? Exploring new sectors of space, new worlds, new languages, all with the latest technology?”
He didn’t tell her he’d been selected as the Enterprise’s first officer; he was not yet at liberty to do so. Nor did he tell her he had already placed her name at the top of his list of recommendations for the communications crew. He simply said, “I believe that your credentials will undoubtedly place you in contention for a position aboard the Enterprise. You need only maintain your grades.”
“And an internship with the man who will improve the universal translator won’t hurt me, either” she said with a grin.
“Indeed,” he concurred.
Their meals arrived and they spoke more about the internship.
“Sir, if I do get the position, will there be time for me to visit my family?”
“Yes,” he said with an almost inaudible sigh. Nyota thought he was unhappy at her request.
“I only need a week or so; they won’t expect anything longer . . . ”
“You would have two weeks in late July. I also will be visiting family at that time.”
“Hmm,” she said. “You don’t seem too happy about it.”
“I admit I am not entirely looking forward to it.”
“Is it a command performance by the parents?”
“No. While I look forward to spending time with my mother, my father and I . . . ”
“Understood,” she said, not wishing to pry further. “Well, I hope you have a great time with your mom. And you can restock all that delicious tea of yours I keep drinking,” she added with a smile.
“I will bring some for you, since you enjoy it.”
“That’s very thoughtful, sir, but you are already too generous, letting me monopolize your office hours, drink all your tea, and talk your ears off.” She smiled.
“Cadet, I find our discussions edifying. My ears are unharmed.”
“Glad to hear it,” she laughed. “Oooo, look at the time! I’ve gotta get back and put the finishing touches on a paper for a very particular professor of mine. Hard grader, nothing ever gets past him. Care to guess who that might be?”
“I shall not endeavor to guess. However, it is obviously an exceptional and intelligent individual.”
She laughed, but stopped as she saw him paying the bill. “Sir, please let me cover my half.”
He was confused at her expression of concern. “May I ask why?”
“Well, I’m the one who dragged you out here in the first place,” she said in a low voice. “Plus, just in case anyone saw us, we don’t want it to look like a date or anything.”
“Ah, I see your point.”
They paid the bill and headed for the shuttle in silence. He reflected on Nyota’s words. It was not a date. He had never been on a date that was so free from tension. Nyota was never uncomfortable around him, never reserved in the face of his differentness. She was one of the few humans who understood his brand of humor, and even felt comfortable enough around him to tease.
“Commander, may I ask a personal question?” Nyota asked as they boarded the shuttle back to the campus.
“You may.”
“What do you do when you’re not working? I mean for relaxation or enjoyment.”
“I play chess with some of my colleagues; I listen to and play music . . . ”
“I had no idea you were musical! A man after my own heart! What do you play?”
“The ka'athyra. Are you familiar with the instrument?”
“I’ve seen images of it but have never heard it played.”
“I would be happy to demonstrate it for you, if you are interested.”
“I would really enjoy that. Thank you.”
It did not occur to him that he had never before volunteered to play for anyone. He was trying not to notice how her eyes sparkled when she smiled up at him.
“And you sing,” he said quietly.
She looked pleasantly surprised. “How did you know?”
“I saw your performance at the holiday program. The duet was particularly impressive.”
“Thank you. I had no idea you were there. You should have said something.”
“I left after the performance. I am not fond of crowds.”
They arrived at the campus and walked toward the resident quarters.
“Cadet, may I ask why you inquired about my leisure activities?”
“Well, if I get the internship, we’ll be working on a relatively empty campus. I thought that if we had any interests in common, we could do things outside of work.”
They reached the student dorms. “Well, Cadet, if you earn the internship, it appears we will have plenty of common interests to fill our time.”
“Yes, sir. Well, here’s home. Goodnight, Commander.”
“Goodnight.” He turned to head for the instructor’s quarters, considering their conversation. If he had turned to look behind him, he would have seen Nyota looking after him, with a knit brow.
***
On the day before intern assignments were due to his department head, Spock considered the applications before him. He had been correct in assuming there would be few applicants, and no matter how he weighted the various attributes of each, Cadet Uhura came out ahead each time.
He sent a personal message to those not chosen, a note to his department head indicating his choice, and then a note of congratulations to Uhura. He was looking forward to summer.
***
Graduation ceremonies and celebrations were over. The campus swiftly emptied of its students and much of the staff. Spock sat at his desk, arranging padds in order of priority and did not pause even as he heard familiar footsteps approaching his door. He looked up as the door slid open, and noted Nyota’s look of surprise.
“You keyed the door to give me access,” she said, her hand still on the panel.
“Of course. You work here.”
She tried not to smile as she entered the room and stood at attention. “Cadet Nyota Uhura, reporting for duty, sir.”
“At ease, Cadet.” He rose and indicated a small desk and chair at the other end of the room. “Your station,” he said.
She could barely contain her excitement as she approached the desk and put her bag on the floor.
“Thank you, sir, for this opportunity.”
“You have earned it, Cadet. Tea?”
“Yes, please,” she said, grinning broadly.
He went to the small table holding the tea, kettle, and cups.
“What are we doing today, sir?” she asked as she sat and turned on her terminal.
“I have sent you the basic parameters of my research thus far. Please review the document and give me your opinion on the theories posited. I will then narrow or broaden the scope accordingly, and we will determine how best to proceed.” He placed her cup of tea on her desk, and returned to his seat with his own cup. He picked up a padd, but did not read it at once. He looked at her, her back to him as she accessed the files at her desk.
This was as he wished it to be. He was content. He did not ask himself why.
***
The mess hall served only a bare-bones breakfast and lunch over the summer. Nyota had to make due with the flash heater and small fridge in the dorm for dinners. She complained of this fact one afternoon, and it gave Spock the opening he’d searched for.
“Cadet, perhaps you would join me for dinner this evening.”
“Commander, I wasn’t fishing for an invitation . . . ”
“I did not think you were. This meal, however, would be a celebration. Our preliminary results have caught the attention of the Interplanetary Association for Communication and Cultural Exchange. We are invited to the IACCE Symposium in Paris to present our final results in August.”
Her eyes were wide. “What? I had no idea you had submitted that first batch of data.”
“I did not wish to ‘get your hopes up’. Additionally, I have come to understand that humans enjoy surprises....”
“Ohmagod! Oh, Commander!” she jumped up, thrilled “Congratulations, sir! Paris, France?”
“Yes, Cadet, France. Does this mean you will accompany me to a celebratory meal?”
“Yes, sir!” she said bouncing, in her seat.
It was some minutes before she was calm enough to resume work, but as he reminded her that they had much more research and experimentation to do before they’d be prepared for the presentation, she quickly re-focused, with only the occasional exclamation of “Paris!”
***
That evening, they went to a little restaurant with a view of the ocean. Spock ordered a bottle of Bajoran spring wine. He tried not to dwell on the way her cheeks flushed after a glass of that wine, or on the music of her laughter. He tried to ignore the way her eyes shone, and the way she spoke with her beautiful hands when she was excited. But he couldn’t help but notice how proud she was of being a part of the research team and, he realized, how proud she seemed to be of him.
He listened with upturned lips as she spoke of Paris, of the things she wanted to see and do while there, how she looked forward to speaking French again, how she intended to drag him to various museums and historical sites.
It gratified him to know that he had some part in bringing the joy she expressed. He was content. He was more than content. If he were human, he realized, he might have said he was happy.
***
Their work went well. Nyota was a thorough researcher and despite her unfamiliarity with some of the more technical aspects of Spock’s work, often anticipated his needs.
One evening, they were so engrossed in their work that neither realized how late it was getting until Nyota’s stomach growled.
“Cadet, you have not eaten.”
“Yes, I did. I had an apple earlier.”
“That was several hours ago. Come.” He stood and turned off his terminal.
“Sir, I think it’s too late to get anything in town.”
“We are not going to a restaurant. We are going to my quarters.”
“Sir, that’s very kind, but you don’t have to . . . ”
“Yes, I do. You have been working for more than 15 hours at my behest. I have plenty of food and we both need sustenance.”
She nodded, turned off her terminal, and gathered her things and followed him.
They arrived at his quarters, and she looked about curiously. The space was neat and efficiently arranged, of course, but with surprising splashes of color and an unexpected hominess.
He asked her to assist him by getting the plates and cutlery. He went to the refrigerator and pulled out two large containers and a jug of water. He placed them on the small dining table. She sat and he served the roasted vegetables with couscous, and a 7-bean salad.
After he was seated, Nyota took a bite. “Mmm! You’ll make someone a great wife someday,” she grinned.
He raised an incredulous eyebrow.
“You cook. A man who can cook is highly prized.”
“I see,” he said with slightly upturned lips. “I am glad you approve of my culinary skills.”
She returned her attention to her food, and mumbled, “Very much, Commander.”
“Miss Uhura, we are off-duty and you are in my home. Please call me Spock.”
“Nyota,” she said softly.
“Nyota,” he repeated as if testing the sound in his mouth.
She appeared to shiver. His quarters were very warm; it could not be the temperature.
“Are you well?” he asked.
“Very well,” she smiled, “just a little tired.”
“Would you care for tea?”
“Yes, si . . . Spock”
She helped him clean up the dinner things and pulled the cups from a cabinet.
“Please have a seat in the living room,” he told her. “I will bring the tea shortly.”
He found her standing before a large portrait on his wall. “Is this your mother?” she asked as he set the tea tray on the coffee table.
“Yes.”
“Spock, she’s beautiful! You have her eyes.”
He sat in a chair and poured the tea. She took a seat on the sofa. When she took up her cup to drink, she saw his ka'athyra on its stand against the opposite wall.
He followed her eyes.
“Will you play tonight?” she asked, hopeful.
“It is late. Another time.”
“I tell you what,” she said, “Let me cook for you sometime this week, and you play the ka'athyra for me. Deal?”
“I accept your proposal.”
They finished their tea and he escorted her home. They walked in silence. When they arrived at her dorm, she looked up at him and seemed about to say something. She suddenly shook her head and said, “Goodnight, Spock. Thanks for dinner.” She quickly turned away and ran up the steps.
A few days later, she arrived at his quarters with her arms full of groceries. She banned him from his own kitchen, and he sat on his sofa, reading, while she sang softly as she prepared their meal. As they ate the traditional Kenyan dishes, she spoke fondly of her home and family, and asked him about his.
He surprised himself, telling her about his less-than-pleasant childhood on Vulcan, his long-standing disagreement with his father, his cousins on Earth. Something somewhere in the corner of his mind objected to his sharing such private information. He found no trouble ignoring it.
They cleaned up the kitchen, made the tea, and Nyota sat on the sofa as he took up his ka'athyra and tuned it.
He did not look at her as he played. He focused on the music he plucked from the strings. Playing, to him, was another form of meditation, and he soon lost himself to the soothing vibrations.
He finished the piece, took a deep breath, and placed the ka'athyra upon its stand. He looked at Nyota. Her eyes were full.
“Spock,” she breathed, “that was . . . To say that was beautiful, moving, powerful . . . all understatements.” She wiped her eyes.
He nodded. “I am gratified.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she said, putting her cup down. “I...I should go now,” she rose.
Spock was disappointed. He had hoped she would stay longer.
“Shall I accompany you?”
“No, it’s still light. But thank you. Goodnight.”
“Thank you for the meal, Nyota. Goodnight.”
She smiled and left him staring at the closed door.
***
Two, sometimes three times a week they had meals in Spock’s quarters. With the campus empty except other staff and interns with similar arrangements, no one looked askance at her frequent presence there.
They traded books, often sitting for hours reading in his living room in silence. Sometimes she sang as he accompanied her. On weekends, they toured museums and galleries, or watched vids in town. They attended almost all of the performances in the summer concert series. It was on their return trip from one of the concerts, six days before their vacation, that Spock noticed something wrong.
“Nyota,” he said, concerned, “You are very quiet this evening. Are you unwell?”
“Hmm? No, I’m fine Spock.”
“Is there something troubling you?”
She sighed and looked through the window of the shuttle. “To be honest, yes, there is something on my mind.” She turned to him with a tired smile. “But it’s nothing that a couple of weeks at home resting won’t cure. I just need a break.”
“We have been working a great deal. I hope I have not asked too much of you . . . ”
“No, Spock.” She patted his sleeved arm. “It’s more of an emotional break that I need. I’ll be right as rain when we get back.”
For the remainder of the week, Nyota declined his invitations to dinner, and issued none of her own. She claimed laundry and packing and fatigue. He was at a loss. He desired her presence. The hours spent alone in his quarters were unsatisfactory. When he offered to accompany her to the international shuttle station, she declined, saying he had to prepare for his own trip.
“Nyota,” he stopped her as she left his office to leave for her flight, “Have I done something to offend you? I do not wish to part like this. Our . . . our friendship is important to me.”
She turned and searched his face. Something in her own countenance brightened a little. “Spock, you have never done anything to upset or offend me in all the time I’ve known you. I know I haven’t been myself this last week. I’ll be better when I get back. I promise.”
He nodded, unable to find words for the situation. He simply watched as she retrieved her bag. “Goodbye, Spock, have a good vacation.” She was gone.
***
Spock’s three days aboard the commercial transport to Vulcan were tedious. Meditate. Walk. Eat. Sleep. Mediate. Meditate to control the impatience. Meditate to control the confusion. Meditate to control the something he could not, would not name.
At last, he was transported from the ship onto the path leading to his parents’ home, his bag slung over his shoulder. It was mid-morning, and he hoped that he would find his mother alone. He climbed the steps two at a time, not caring who saw his unseemly haste. He entered, nodding at household staff as he made his way to his mother’s rooms. He found her in her study.
“Spock!” She rose to greet him.
“Mother.” They were alone in the room. He allowed her to embrace him, and surprised them both when his own arms surrounded her shoulders.
She looked up at him. “Spock, what is it?”
She regarded her son, felt the unfamiliar emotions through her parental bond, and hugged him closer. “I see . . . ” she said with a sad smile. “Sit. Tell me everything.”
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Chapter 4