1C13:11, Chapter 11, Ecc3:1-8
Dec. 6th, 2010 02:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teaoliTitle: 1C13:11 — Ecc3:1-8
Characters: Spock, Amanda, Uhura, multiple OCs
A/N: To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.
Warning: Starts off very K, but eventually flirts with M.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek, any Star Trek characters or any Star Trek concepts and I still don’t get paid for writing about any of those.
( Read Ru2:13 )
( Read Prv22:6 )
( Read Prv4:1-15 )
( Read Col3:21 )
( Read Prv13:5-7 )
( Read SoS8:8 )
( Read Prv27:6 )
( Read Col3:14)
( Read SoS7:6-9)
( Read Prv30:18-19 )
“Is there any particular reason why you haven’t sent me a recommendation for your Cadet Uhura? “ Pike glanced up from the PADD he was reading. “Everyone else is singing her praises.”
“As you have said, Captain, my Lieutenant Uhura does not require my approbation to recommend her to you. Her work speaks for itself” Spock gestured toward Pike’s PADD “and her other instructors have spoken on her behalf.”
“That still doesn’t explain why she isn’t on your list. If you don’t want her on my ship, I’ll make sure she doesn’t come anywhere near it. But you’ve got to level with me, Spock. Will this woman’s presence pose a problem for you?”
“Captain, I—” Spock glanced towards Pike’s open door. He lowered his voice. “Captain, given the nature of my relationship with the lieutenant, I think it best that I recuse myself from any decisions directly concerning her placement following graduation.”
Pike was both stunned and a little puzzled. He was unused to seeing the unflappable young Vulcan flustered. As his future commanding officer, he’d been given a copy of the report generated during the disclosure hearing Spock had insisted was necessary before he could begin teaching classes. Nothing revealed at the time would render his first officer’s recommendation ineligible.
The relationship had been described as a “longstanding, quasi-familial affiliation” which had begun when the cadet was three years old and eventually become sufficiently significant as to influence Spock’s decision to enter Starfleet. The board had been more than willing to look the other way if one of their most distinguished graduates ended up instructing a brilliant young woman who was halfway to being his little sister.
“What’s the problem, Spock?” Pike asked again, testy because he wasn’t sure where his protégé was leading. “Did you do something to piss that girl off again? If I recall correctly, she’s been angling for the Enterprise almost since she got here. Are you trying to tell me that she’s changed her mind now that you’re going to be my XO?”
“Sir, I am attempting to inform you that the parameters of our association have changed.” He paused, looking down. “However, I foresee no hesitation, on either my or Nyota’s part, to serving together. Rather the opposite, actually.”
Chris searched the Vulcan’s face for any hint that his young first officer was saying what Chris thought he was hearing. Except for the quiet voice and his half-shuttered eyes, Spock appeared the way he always did: calm, aloof and impassive. His words, though, implied something the older man found hard to fathom.
It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Spock was capable of falling for a great mind stuck behind a face; he just had a hard time accepting that the kid would do anything about it.
“Commander, you’re going have to be more explicit than that,” he said, and while part of him hoped Spock would disabuse him of the notion, another — far larger — part really wanted to believe that the kid had finally found the right woman. He didn’t hesitate to ask his next question, in spite of the discomfort it might cause his companion. “Are you engaging in a romantic or sexual relationship with her? Are you doing both.”
Spock looked up sharply, met Chris’s eyes fully for the first time since beginning his “confession.”
“Exactly ten months ago, I asked Lieutenant Uhura to be my wife, sir,” he said. “We will travel to my homeworld during the February break to formalize our betrothal.”
“This is ridiculous, Nyota! Your family doesn’t even celebrate Christmas.”
“We didn’t. But since Muta met this Melody girl, he’s been trying all kinds of new things. ‘Penda is pretty sure they’ll be giving gifts to all of us this year. Wouldn’t it be kind of weird not to give them anything in return?”
“Not when it’s not your holiday.” Jane Faransdóttir eyed the crowded mall corridor shrewdly. She saw a break in the mass of people and plunged in, dragging her friend behind her. “I’d totally get it if your parents wanted to make this girl feel welcome. But have you even met this girl?”
“Well, no. Not in person. But I’ve talked to her over the comm. And Muta talks abut her all the time, so I sort of have an idea of her likes and dislikes.”
“Humph. Do a few chats on the comm make her worth beggaring yourself and braving this?” She waved a hand at the last-minute shoppers currying from store to store.
“Ja-ane!” Nyota cajoled. “I’m not looking for anything really expensive. Just something that says, ‘I don’t hate you for stealing my big brother.’“
“And you need my help why? What the hell do I know about how Americans do Christmas? Mamma and I hardly celebrate it because Pabbi is Muslim and, besides, Christmas is really different in Iceland.”
“You grew up in San Francisco! Besides, I’ve only got two days and you’re the best shopper I know. With you on the job, we’ll be in and out less than thirty minutes from now.”
Jane shrugged and kept walking.
“What’s going on over there?” Nyota asked, pointing at a long queue trailing out of a store she thought dealt exclusively in bed textiles.
Glancing over, Jane scowled. “They started this new thing. Personalized hugging-pillows. It’s so stupid. People are wasting a gazillion credits on those things when for less than an eighth of the price those thieves are charging, they could slap one together themselves. Give me a two and a half meters of jersey and an hour and I could make one with my eyes closed.”
“Personalized hugging-pillow?”
“You know. Your image printed on a pillow sort of shaped like a giant stick-figure? It’s all the rage for couples. That place will even make it smell like your favorite food or perfume or something.”
“Why would anyone want to cuddle up to something that smells like dinner?” Nyota mused.
Jane shrugged again and led her into a store that sold inexpensive jewelry. “I don’t know, but I sold three dozen of them already, and I just making them a week ago. And mine are way better than the garbage the sell over there.”
“Can you make one of me?”
“Sure,” the older girl said. “And I can even make sure it’s shaped like you.”
“You mean like a giant stick-figure?”
“A giant stick-figure wearing really hot boots.” She grabbed her friend’s head and turned it towards a case filled with carved jadeite earrings. “That way!”
.
Fifteen minutes later, the young women exited the mall. Nyota clutched a small jewelry box , but two bags dangled from each of Jane’s wrists. “Best shopper I know” failed to give adequate merit to her skills.
“So, what are you getting for your family?” she asked as they approached the nearest transport station.
Nyota’s face twisted in confused trepidation. “Umm,” she said and Jane grinned wide. “I can’t wait to hear all about your trip, En,” she said.
In order to accommodate the seven percent of Starfleet cadets who observed the Christian holiday, and because North America in general still tended to celebrate the secular holiday, Academy classes typically ended early on the twenty-fifth day of December. When that date occurred on a Friday, they were often cancelled altogether. Nyota had arranged for tickets on a shuttle leaving not long after the conclusion of Thursday’s classes.
Spock was grateful for the three-day weekend that afforded him a chance to travel to Garissa for the Uhuras’ first Christmas. While he hadn’t been very interested in taking part in a celebration that was unfamiliar even to the family, he’d looked forward to the short respite from San Francisco’s damp and cold. Putting up with Dr. M’Umbha’s stealth mothering (as well as the gentle teasing that Wakufunzi women were seemingly genetically predisposed to forcing upon their loved ones) was a small price to pay in exchange for a short stay in the District’s warm, dry climate.
Nyota had also been looking forward to the short break. Her enthusiasm had manifested itself in the form of a contagious playfulness that still fizzed through his system. While it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, he was grateful that he rarely experienced it outside the Uhura compound. This time, however, it had begun outside the shuttleport in San Francisco when Nyota had turned to him and, grasping his ears through the woolen cap he wore to stave off the cold, declared, “You are so cute, Spocky!”
He’d protested, of course, and had quickly removed her hands from his person. But that hadn’t stopped the familiar buzzing he knew from long experience signaled an urge to tease and play.
The urge increased when they reached the Uhura compound and received warm greetings from Nyota’s parents and sister. Not for the first time, he wondered if the women of his ko-kugalsu’s family were using their peculiar psi-Talents to influence him. He was fairly certain this wasn’t the case. M’Umbha Uhura bint Wakufunzi was adamant that her children refrain from using their abilities frivolously.
“Why don’t you two go freshen up and change,” she suggested, eying their cold-weather clothing as Spock deposited several packages around the potted fir placed in a corner of the massive front room. “I’ve put you both in Ennie’s old room.”
“Okay, Mama,” Nyota replied. “We’ll be back down in a few minutes.”
M’Umbha glanced at Spock then turned a sly grin on her youngest child. “Take your time, binti,” she said. “There’s no hurry.”
“Thank you, Dr. M’Umbha,” Spock said as he joined them near the staircase. “We shall return in no more than three quarters of an hour.”
He heard Upenda murmur something that ended in “quickie” followed by her father’s sharp admonition as he led Nyota up the stairs.
.
Nyota insisted on giving him his gift as soon as they’d changed clothes.
Sitting on the bed, facing the French doors that offered an appealing view of the red and brown countryside beyond Benjamin Uhura’s gardens, Spock opened the long, flat box she offered. He pulled out a large flat cushion that shaped into an imprecise representation of his ko-kugalsu’s silhouette, his brow slightly furrowed.
“You know I do sleep on a pillow, beloved.”
“It’s not for sleeping on,” she chided cheerfully and sank onto the bed next to him. Bending down, she pulled up the left leg of her lightweight trousers and clipped her betrothal gift around her ankle.
“What is its purpose, then?”
Smiling patiently, as if the answer were obvious, Nyota leaned over and brushed her lips against his jaw. “She’ll keep you company whenever I’m not available. And her scent is supposed to be relaxing. Comforting.”
Still perplexed, Spock continued to stare at the pillow. It was lightly perfumed with her personal blend of fragrance overlaying a fainter aroma of his preferred meditation incense. His beloved’s image had been faithfully reproduced on the surface but the two-dimensional picture held none of the appeal flesh and blood woman.
“I do not foresee a time when I will make use of this pillow,” he told her, laying the pillow across her knees. “You must forgive me for preferring the real thing.”
Nyota opened her mouth to protest.
In a poorly-conceived attempt to redirect the conversation, Spock made a critical error. The hum of what he thought of as his Wakufunzi emotion kept him from considering his next words carefully.
“I spoke with Captain Pike two days ago.”
Nyota rolled her eyes. She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. He only did this with her, she was certain. Stating the obvious went against his Vulcan upbringing. Every once in a while, though, he drew out a story for her benefit, to satisfy her sense of the dramatic, he claimed. Sometimes — like when the news was good— she appreciated it. Other times he used it as a stalling tactic when he wanted to tell her something she didn’t want to hear. She wondered which it would be now.
“You talk to Pike every day, k’diwa.”
“On Wednesday, we discussed you.”
Her jaw dropped and her head snapped up. She grabbed his chin and turned his head until she could meet his eyes. “What? Why?”
Spock briefly related his conversation with the captain.
“Hold on a second,” she ordered. Spock felt her cheerful mood begin to ebb. Her rising anger had no effect on his own good spirits. “I’ve been working my ass off for the last three and half years because I wanted the best starship in the fleet. To get that, I needed be the best in my field. I know I’ve achieved that. You know it too, but you — the one person whose opinion he values probably above all others when it comes to his ship — couldn’t be bothered to give me a recommendation? And then you told him about us as an excuse?
“Here!” she snapped, shoving the pillow in his lap. “Maybe you’ll come to appreciate her when I’m stuck on another ship.”
Spock’s happiness refused to be thwarted.
“I am perfectly able to function — at least for short intervals — outside your immediate vicinity,” he said moving the pillow aside again and pulling the real Nyota onto his lap. When she didn’t try to move away, he began trailing fingers beneath her shirt. “However, as Captain Pike’s interest and the references of your other instructors are likely to carry more weight than the lack of my own recommendation, I do not foresee a time when I shall have need of an inferior facsimile.”
He could feel her indignation spark. But he sensed his hands were igniting different kind of fire. A spurt of amusement rippled through him as he acknowledged the metaphorical language she inspired in his thoughts.
“‘Inferior?’ Spocky, you should have seen the dross they were selling at the mall! The craftsmanship of Jane’s doll is at least a thousand times better than what the stores offer. And don’t laugh at me!”
“I was not laughing at you, ashal-veh,” he hedged, and ignored the skepticism emanating from her. Touching his lips to the spot behind his beloved’s sensitive ear, he murmured, “Nor was it my intention to disparage your friend or her art. I was merely pointing out my preference for the living—.” He punctuated the word a kiss on her neck. “Breathing—.” And followed it with another on her shoulder. “Nyota Uhura. She is far superior to a pillow stuffed with cotton and incense, no matter how well-made it is.”
“Nice save!” With a grin he could feel through the link, she reached back to ruffle his hair. “You learn quickly, and you learn well.”
“Pleasing you is not only my duty,” he told her, “but also something I find considerably pleasing.”
She disentangled herself from his embrace, but didn’t move from his lap. Twisting around, she cupped his face in her hands, her own expression serious.
“Are you trying to seduce me in order to avoid further argument about my posting?”
“Yes,” he admitted. He didn’t have the grace to look contrite. That wouldn’t have been unusual except that the half-smile of his lips appeared decidedly smug.
“How many times do I have to tell you that isn’t going to work?”
“That depends on your ultimate goal. If it is convincing me of the veracity of your claim, you will have to continue until your actions support your words. If you merely wish me to increase my efforts at distraction, no further assertions are necessary.”
He loosened the drawstring at her waist and pushed the linen trousers past her hips. She wiggled to ease the garment’s passage, then curled up sideways in his lap. Tracing a finger down her left leg, he leaned down to kiss the knee. His hand continued its journey until it reached the anklet.
Spock knew she hated taking it off, but by the end of the long winter break she had already given up protesting his edict that she wear it only when they were alone or away from campus. He straightened, pulling her in tight to his chest. She deserved, and received, another kiss for her compliance. He got his own reward when she started shivering and purring.
“Are my efforts having the desired effect, Lieutenant?” he murmured against her collarbone.
Whenever he behaved this way, she was lost. Didn’t have a chance against his charm.
“Yes. But only because you’re right,” she told him. “I’ll be on the Enterprise — whether you are or not.”
And then she let him pull her shirt over her head.
.
.
Twenty-three minutes and a hurried second shower later, a thoroughly sated Nyota tried not to blush under her sister’s knowing gaze. Spock’s placid expression gave no indication of what they had been up to. Mama and Baba pretended they had no clue, ether.
“My, dada,” Upenda said, her sly tone a warning that she was in full-on teasing mode, “you and kaka look remarkably ‘refreshed.’ I figured you two would be up there a lot longer. Guess not. “
Mama’s speaking look shut her up, but did nothing to stop the young doctor’s laughter.
“Presents!” Eight pairs of eyes swung over to Baba at his unexpected exclamation. He stood and walked over to the potted tree. “Melody says her family opens their presents on Christmas Eve. Christmas Day is for going to church and visiting relatives. Why don’t we follow their example?”
Upenda looked skeptical. “You want us to go to church tomorrow?” Although much of the Uhura clan was nominally Christian, Baba’s parents hadn’t raised their children within any particular denomination, and he’d never taken his own children to a religious service.
“I think we should open our presents now,” Baba replied patiently. “Then it will be out of the way when Muta and his Melody arrive tomorrow.”
“Oh! Oh, yes,” Upenda said. “That’s a good idea.”
The shrewd calculation on her sister’s face left Nyota suspicious. A minute later, her distrust was vindicated.
“What’s this?” she asked, holding up the object she’d unwrapped from the little box her sister had placed in her lap.
‘Penda grinned evilly. “It’s a dental guard,” she said. “We prescribe them for biters. I’ve modified this one so you can wear it to avoid any more… mishaps.”
Nyota glared at her older sister, and only Spock’s warm hand at the back of her neck kept her from flinging the offending article towards Upenda’s white teeth.
“Dada,” Spock said, “I believe you should open my present now. Nyota’s time was limited and she was unable to secure gifts for the family. I took it upon myself to select appropriate items for everyone.”
He rose to his feet and walked over to the tree. Without a moment’s hesitation, he selected a gift that was slightly larger than the one Upenda had given her sister and carried over to her.
Eagerly, Upenda tore at the wrapping and lifted the lid. Spock had earned a reputation for being a stellar gift-giver, in spite of the fact that Vulcans rarely engaged in the practice. She reached in and pulled out her present.
Her smile faded.
“What the hell, kaka?”
“It is a chastity belt,” Spock said with feigned innocence. “I believe you might find it useful when Axin Loures is visiting.”
The look ‘Penda gave him was pure fire, and Nyota wasn’t sure her sister would hesitate in launching the collection of delicate gold chains, formed into a shape vaguely reminiscent of panties, at her sa-kugalsu.
“Children!” Mama snapped, but her eyes were shining. “Enough.” She turned to Spock and winked. “Welcome to the family, mwana. I always knew you fit right in.”
The rest of the gift-sharing was mundane in comparison. Baba got a new CO2 extractor — “Grandfather’s engineers upgraded the design,” Spock informed him. “Output is increased, while expended energy is greatly reduced” — for his stillroom. Mama received three beautiful Vulcan-designed robes.
Mama and Baba gave Spock a subscription to a new science journal, and Nyota got yet another pair of earrings. The nephrite hoops would look well with her engagement anklet, everyone agreed.
Not surprisingly, Upenda hadn’t gotten anything for Spock. “I figured Ennie’s present would be gift enough for both of them,” she joked, and Spock countered with, “Surely the dental apparatus is superfluous when paired with the steel prophylactic you sent on my birthday?”
The family cast surprised looks at Upenda, but all conceded that Spock’s closing salvo had deftly secured him the last word. The two males escaped the front room claiming dinner preparation as their excuse before the three women were finished laughing.
.
.
Spock was well aware that the past fifty-seven days had not passed any more quickly than any other fifty-seven days had gone by, and yet the date for his second van-kal t’telan seemed to arrive almost without notice. He was forced to acknowledge the truth of the human saying “Time flies when you’re having fun.”
Time flew at such a velocity, in fact, he found himself failing to live up to Nyota’s obsessive need for punctuality.
“I can’t believe you’re not ready yet!” she exclaimed after bursting into his sleeping chamber, two days before their van-kal t’telan was scheduled to take place on Vulcan. “We leave in three hours!”
“Even with the extra items you will undoubtedly insist I bring along,” he told her, “it should take me no longer than seven point three minutes to pack.”
Nyota shook her head and strode over to his wardrobe to retrieve his duffel. When she yanked open the door, the “hugging pillow” fell at her feet.
“You’ve been keeping her in the closet?” She snatched up the pillow and tossed it over her shoulder. When she turned, her face displayed ill-concealed amusement. “How is she supposed to keep you company if you leave her stuffed in there?”
Spock chose not to apprise her of how, on some nights when they’d deemed it imprudent for her to remain in his quarters, he’d slept clutching the pillow close. Not because he required its company, but because he found the traces of her scent that mingled with the aroma of the meditation incense she had mixed in with the stuffing to be soothing.
“It is stored in the closet when it not in use,” he allowed. “To do otherwise would be indiscreet.”
“Oh really? Suddenly you’re worried about discretion even though you let the cat out of the bag two months ago?” she queried, raising an eyebrow in unconscious imitation of his own quirk. It was far more attractive on her face, he mused as he remembered that mirroring behavior was an indicator of attraction and affection in humans. “So,” she went on, “when you said ‘when not in use,’ was that intended to be an indication that there are times when she is ‘in use’?”
He was Vulcan enough — and had been practicing Dr. Uhura’s methods long enough — to admit when his woman had caught him out.
“That was not my intention, no,” he said. “However, that is the truth of the matter.”
.
.
Amanda Grayson whisked her away from Spock the moment they arrived at the S’chn T’gai home. The fawning and primping started as soon as the doors closed on Spock and Sarek.
“M’Umbha will do the same when you get married,” she claimed as she ordered her daughter-to-be into a tub full of warm scented water. It was a luxury on Vulcan. “You may as well get used to it now.”
An hour later, she pushed Nyota into a chair set before a large vanity. Using her hip to spin the chair around so that it faced away from the mirror, the older woman began to gather her implements of torture (or beautification) while Nyota smiled gamely.
“You know, when he first told me to add you to my list of potential daughters-in-law, I wasn’t convinced it was a good idea.” She laughed softly then began twisting and curling and pinning the long dark strands. “I was so afraid he’d botch it!”
“Well, actually, Ko-mekh… he did. Didn’t I tell you? It took the whole day for him to get it right!” Nyota found herself suppressing a chuckle as she remembered the conversation that hadn’t been remotely funny at the time. “He didn’t bother with saying, ‘Oh, by the way, Nyota, I’m madly in love you’ first.”
Amanda recalled the warning she’d given her son and rolled her eyes, still smiling a little indulgently — but a more little ruefully. “No, I guess he wouldn’t have thought it was necessary. No matter what the human women in his life might have said about it.” She slid that last pin into the elaborate coiffure and wiped her hands on a small towel hanging from her waist.
Nyota beamed. “But then, after I freaked out a little and he showed me….” Her breath caught and her stomach fluttered at the memory. “It was…”
Grinning in return, the older woman selected several tubes and pots of cosmetics from the vanity table. “It is, isn’t it?” she asked quietly once it was clear Nyota wouldn’t continue. “The way they love is amazing, Ennie. I’m so glad you know how it feels. And it’s only going to get better. I really am pleased he chose you.”
“Even after…?” Nyota clicked her teeth together a few times instead of going on.
Throwing her head back, Amanda laughed heartily at the unsubtle reference to the reason behind their trip to a Vulcan temple.
“Especially after Wehk Aitlunlar, Ennie,” she said. “Now I can be sure he’ll be in safe hands. And safe from teeth. Now close your eyes.”
Amanda brushed layers of shadows in dusky plum and three shades of grey over the girl’s upper eyelid. A dark line, painted along the edge of thick lashes and extended beyond the corner of each eye, completed the look. Scrutinizing her handiwork as objectively as she could, she gave a pleased smile and reached for a pot of lip stain the color of dark raspberries.
She squeezed Nyota’s shoulders as she turned her around to face the mirror. “All done, sweetheart,” she said, and felt her own eyes get a little misty as the young woman stared at her face and hair in wonder. “He’s waiting for you.”
.
.
A year before Nyota had told Ko-mekh she was celebrating her best birthday ever. Today, Spock proved her wrong. She wondered how he could possibly make her twentieth even better.
The ceremony had been simple, lasting only moments. Although she’d known it would be — Spock, Ko-mekh and the temple priestesses had all told her exactly what to expect — she was still surprised that with just a brief touch of a healer and few words intoned through the three-way meld, Spock’s mind had become nearly as much a part of her as her own. It was astounding to know that sense of oneness would only increase after their permanent joining.
.
.
Amanda’s gaze went soft as she watched her husband speak with their new daughter. Sarek, though reserved as usual, somehow managed to ease Nyota’s nervousness. Perhaps that was because of his reserve, Amanda mused, thinking about Nyota’s last visit to Vulcan when the young woman had encountered a very different S’chn T’gai Sarek.
Spock appeared at her side.
“You have made me happy, my son.” She gestured toward the pair she continued to watch. “It seems I am not the only one.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “I am very happy, mother.”
.
.
Nyota wasn’t especially happy about wasting her time watching Jim Kirk fail his third attempt at the Kobayashi Maru. She was still annoyed that he’d watched her stripping off her uniform the night before, and she’d always had trouble taking the other cadet seriously. No one could really blame her for behaving accordingly. Even his sidekick, McCoy (who really should have known better. What the hell were they teaching in med school these days?) was barely able to hide his sarcasm and impatience.
Except Kirk didn’t fail and Nyota’s plans to spend the weekend with her sa-kugalsu went the way of their simulated Klingon attackers.
.
“How the hell did that kid beat your test,” asked one of the simulation technicians.
“I don’t know,” Spock said, staring at down at Kirk from the control room.
.
.
It him took two weeks to figure it out. He put off telling Nyota until she could spend the night in his bed without rushing off to early-morning classes the next day.
Tracing a finger along her jaw in the darkness of his bed chamber, he explained what he had uncovered. Nyota merely shrugged and wrapped her arms around his torso and twined her legs with his. It was by far her favorite sleeping position.
“If my findings are deemed evidence enough to warrant a disciplinary hearing—”
“Which they will,” she put in sleepily.
“you could be investigated as an accomplice because of your association with Cadet Gaila and your participation in the simulation. You would undoubtedly be exonerated, but in the course of the investigation, the true nature of our relationship could be exposed.”
“K’diwa,” she began, suddenly sounding alert, “I’m not worried because I know you’re not really worried. Don’t forget. I’ve got a direct feed on your frequency whenever I want to listen to in.”
.
.
His lips descended the valley between her small firm breasts. She hummed happily and he purred in concert.
His communicator chirruped. She stiffened and he froze.
“Don’t,” she ordered, “answer that.”
Sock sighed. “I must. The alert pattern indicates that the call is coming from a communicator belonging to a high-level officer.”
.
Spock clicked his communicator closed and climbed off the bed.
“I did not expect the board to act so quickly.”
“But I just heard you say the hearing isn’t until this afternoon,” Nyota protested.
His gaze flicked from the floor to his mate. She was sitting up, arms folded under her breasts. He wished he had not answered the call.
“Admiral Barnett has asked me to meet with him within the hour,” he apologized. “He would like to further discuss several points before the hearing convenes.”
They showered and dressed quickly. Nyota huffed out a frustrated groan as she dragged her sweater over her head. They hadn’t even gotten started!
“Amazing!” She yanked her short red skirt into place. “Kirk-the-Jerk can lok-block even when he’s not in the room!” Laughing at her own rhymes, she lost the fierce scowl and smiled up at Spock’s unsmiling face.
“You must be more careful of your conduct, Lieutenant,” he chided his mate. “Even if we are discovered today, I believe you will still have a ninety-eight point eight percent chance of receiving your chosen assignment. Even now — especially now — however, the board may alter their decisions based on our behavior.”
Chuckling, Nyota dismissed his concern and bent to zip her boots. “Nobody remains on their best behavior long while working with Jim Kirk, Commander. I think they’ll give me a pass. And as for our engagement, well, no one would ever believe you were capable of real misconduct.” She rose up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “But I’ll try to be good. Promise.”
She was already pivoting to leave when his arm shot out and spun her back around. “After the hearing, ashayam,” he murmured directly into her sensitive ear, “you may show me exactly how good you intend to be.”
.
.
James T. Kirk, son of George S. Kirk, Sr., had many lessons to learn. That much was clear to Spock as he listened to the cadet protest the intended lesson of the Kobayashi Maru simulation.
A distress call from his home planet ensured “After the hearing” never came.
If it wasn’t for the natural disaster taking place on his XO’s homeworld, Christopher Pike might have chuckled to himself. This wasn’t how he had always imagined the Enterprise’s maiden voyage, but at least everything else had gone smoothly once the helmsman had figured out how release the parking brake.
And then a swollen George Samuel Kirk, Jr.’s burst onto the bridge with two other cadets on his heels.
.
“Vulcan is not experiencing a natural disaster,” son James Tiberius Kirk declared. “It’s being attacked by Romulans.”
Incensed that the kid would try to draw attention to himself in this way, Chris dismissed him and promised McCoy a chat in the future.
But the cadet wouldn’t stop talking, and his persistence induced Spock to speak which was the last thing the kid should have wanted after his antics. Pike decided to see how Spock would handle it.
“Look, I get it,” Kirk snapped at the first officer. “You’re a great orator. I’d love to do it again with you, too.”
“I can remove the cadet—” Spock began telling Pike.
“Try it!” the boy interrupted. “This cadet is trying to save the bridge.”
“By recommending a full stop mid-warp during a rescue mission?” Spock was slipping, letting his annoyance show. Pike wondered if he should step in.
“It’s not a rescue mission,” the kid insisted. “Listen. It’s an attack.”
“Based on what facts?” Spock wanted to know. His voice remained flat, but Chris wondered just how badly Kirk was testing that vaunted Vulcan control.
“That same anomaly — a lightning storm in space — that we saw today, also occurred on the day of my birth. Before a Romulan ship attacked the USS Kelvin.” He turned to Chris, and said in a considerably more respectful, but no less urgent, tone, “You know that, sir. I read your dissertation. That ship, which had formidable and advanced weaponry, was never seen or heard from again.”
Intrigued in spite of Kirk’s insubordination, Pike decided to let him continue.
“The Kelvin attack took place on the edge of Klingon space and at twenty-three hundred hours last night, there was an attack. Forty-seven Klingon warbirds destroyed by a Romulan, sir. It was reported that the Romulans were in one ship, one massive ship.”
If what the cadet claimed was true…
“And you know of this Klingon attack how?”
“Sir, I intercepted and translated the message myself,” the third cadet said. “Kirk’s report is accurate.”
Pike recognized the face, even though he had spent nearly four years avoiding confirming his suspicions about the name.
“We’re warping into a trap, sir. The Romulans are waiting for us, I promise you that,” Kirk said, and this time Pike was starting to believe it might be true.
Even Spock appeared convinced. “The cadet’s logic is sound,” he conceded. “And Lieutenant Uhura is unmatched in xenolinguistics, we would be wise to accept her conclusion.”
Pike started issuing orders, and when the communications officer admitted he might not be able to tell the difference between Vulcan and Romulan, the captain turned to his XO’s fiancée.
“What about you?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know. He respected her fiancé and wanted to protect his damned heightened sense of propriety. But it wasn’t a bad way to test her mettle under fire, either. “Do you speak Romulan, cadet…?”
“Uhura,” she replied without batting an eye. “All three dialects, sir.”
He ordered her to relieve the man Spock had picked by hand.
.
.
Captain Pike faced almost certain death on the colossal Romulan ship. The Enterprise went on despite severe damage and numerous casualties. Spock had no choice but to continue working, to make certain the starship and the beings it hosted continued to exist. There was no time for grief and questions about how the future unfold now that Nero had changed everything.
His world was gone, the greater part of its people destroyed. The survivors aboard the Enterprise were receiving medical attention and would need accommodations until they could be transferred to another ship or planet.
His mother was dead, her body lost in the singularity that was once a planet. He was not alone in feeling her absence from the family bond. He pushed aside his father’s and his ko-kugalsu’s grief .
Nyota. There was no time to think of her. She invaded his thoughts anyway.
A tiny girl who huddled in his lap, fighting tears he’d caused, reminded him to feel.
Spock marooned Kirk on Delta Vega. As acting captain, he needed admirable performances from everyone and the cadet’s divisive actions and rhetoric would only distract and confuse his crew.
A perceptive nine-year-old defined him in terms that were startlingly similar to those his human grandfather had used. Her matter-of-fact acceptance of all that he was and was not had instantly secured his friendship.
The Enterprise limped towards the Laurentian System to join was left of the fleet. It was a more logical choice than charging after Nero’s ship without assistance.
A fifteen-year-old, nearly as socially awkward as he had been at the time, behaved like a child while demanding a kiss. Months later, she embraced her own path, and gained his admiration in the process of growing up. He was already hers by the time the Marja Sklodowska returned to Earth.
.
.
Only a great irony allowed him to completely shut her out. Newer bonds — especially those formed in adulthood — took time to settle along the pathways of two minds, and so were usually difficult to obstruct. Never especially good at suppressing his emotional reactions, Spock should not have been able to hide what he was feeling from his ko-kugalsu.
He suspected that some combination of her Betazoid ancestry and her training among those people — transfused to him when their minds were joined — gave him a command of his emotions than he would have otherwise managed. He wondered how long he could keep her at bay before that control began to slip.
.
“Everything is different now.”
“Clarify.” Before, he would have teased her about the imprecision of her declaration. Two days, six hours, thirty-seven minutes… Now, he found he needed additional time to formulate the words she did not want to hear, and which he did not wish to say.
“You know what I mean. So few ever left the planet for very long. So– so few made it to the… and now that Ko-mekh—” she broke off in a choked sob, but quickly forced herself in a semblance of composure. “And now, now that Vulcan is gone and there are so few left…”
“So, ‘everything’ by your definition means the ways in which your future will progress? You focus on the unhappiness that the loss of over six billion lives has brought to you?”
She didn’t mean to dismiss his pain in favor of her own, but she also refused to ignore the existence of her fears.
“Spock…” He was shutting her out of their bond, but she knew he did not mean the words as they sounded. He could not. That much was apparent from the way her eyes softened.
“Forgive me, Nyota. Your tendency to care for others has not lessened,” he said, relenting. “My love for you has not changed.” Neither chose to acknowledge how little that mattered in the face of everything that had changed.
The needs of the many…
She walked across the room to wrap her arms around his waist and press her face into his back.
“Tushah nash-veh k’du,” she whispered.
His hands covered hers and squeezed.
“I grieve with thee,” he echoed.
.
.
Since meeting Nyota Uhura, Spock realized, he had been attempting to live his life as a human. Since becoming her lover, he been relying less and less on meditation to order his thoughts and rein in his emotions. He could not continue in that manner.
Vulcan was gone. His mother was dead. His damaged ship had a new captain and its crew was being tested in ways far more trying than any of them had expected at the outset of this mission.
Until the Romulans were defeated, he needed to be entirely Vulcan. For his father’s people. For the Enterprise. For Starfleet. For the Federation.
If he lived to see another day, the Spock his ko-kugalsu loved — had helped create — could not continue.
He said none of this as he prepared to beam over to the Romulan’s ship. Holding her close and covering her mouth with his, he allowed only his concerns of what might happen while he was away from the Enterprise flow through their bond.
“I will return,” he promised and tried to mean it.
“You’d better,” she ordered, letting him know she had not been fooled. “I’ll be monitoring your frequency.”
.
.
Watching the massive ship disappear into the black hole had fulfilled the unfamiliar desire for revenge. Earth — Spock’s only remaining home — had been spared. For the moment, the federation was safe.
Satisfaction was short-lived.
Vulcan was still gone. His mother could not be brought back. The numbers of father’s people were still reduced to a tiny fraction of what they once had been. Logic still decreed he should abandon his chosen mate in order to help rebuild their numbers.
He found her in the sleeping alcove of his quarters again. While once seeing Nyota Uhura lying in his bed would have been a common enough occurrence, now…
Now, in the absence of that driving force, there was only the logic of the choice he must make.
She didn’t stir as he reached for his meditation robe, then, laying it across the back of a chair, pulled off his tunic. She didn’t speak, although he knew she was not sleeping.
“These are not your assigned quarters, Lieutenant.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke, continuing, instead, to exchange his uniform for the lightweight robe.
“No.” Uhura didn’t move from her place on his bed. “But I belong here. My place is at your side. Let me help you.”
He didn’t speak as he held out another, smaller robe.
.
As one, they emerged from the meditation trance. Nyota rose and walked over the bed, stripping off her robe as Spock extinguished the firepot.
“You must return to your quarters, Lieutenant,” he whispered to her nude back. She halted and turned to face him. His sudden inhalation was audible, sharp. After a minute hesitation, she stepped towards him.
“Why? You want me here. I want to be here.”
“As you acknowledged earlier, circumstances are different now that my planet has been destroyed.” He tried to hide his need from her but realized his control was already weakening. His ko-kugalsu had access to all that he felt.
She continued striding forward, ignoring his words, refusing to acknowledge the conflict inside of him. “Sexual desire is a not-unheard-of human reaction to grief. Psychologists have suggested that it might stem either from a desire to replace those who were lost, or from a need for the practitioners to affirm their own continued existence.”
“I am not human.” He searched for determination. For her sake.
“Nor are you Vulcan. You are both and you are neither. You are Spock and you feel this, too.” Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pressed her face into the hairs of his chest. “I can feel it, ashayam. We share this… need.”
“My duties to my people may preclude me from honoring my commitment to y—”
She tipped her head back, and her hands released his waist to grasp his face. “At this moment, you remain my sa-kugalsu and this is still where I belong.”
“Nyota, please…”
“‘Please’ what?”
“Please do not ask me to cause you more pain than I have already and will most likely do in the future.”
“This?” She drew a finger down his cheek. “This isn’t pain, k’diwa. Feeling you suffer and doing nothing is painful. Sharing it with you, sharing myself with you right now — no matter what comes next — is not painful.”
He said nothing, but did not move away. She could feel his sense of duty and justice warring with his desire to capitulate. To hold on to her. To lose himself in her, if only for the moment.
“Spock, I need this, too,” she whispered despairingly, and her pain, combined with his own need, were enough to overwhelm the last of his resistance. “I lost her, too.”
Even if he had not drawn in a choked, shuddering breath, she would have known he was close to losing the last of his control.
“Shi t’nash-veh wilat?” she asked, her voice stronger. “Shi t’du wilat?”
The dam broke.
“You belong with me,” he replied, unable to keep the emotion that flowed freely through their bond from his voice. “I belong with you.”
Gathering her into his arms, he pressed fevered kisses on her neck and shoulders. “Taluhk nash-veh k’dular,” he murmured against her soft skin, and she shuddered beneath his touch. “Taluhk nash-veh k’dular,” he repeated. “Taluhk nash-veh k’dular.”
Go to Chapter 12
Characters: Spock, Amanda, Uhura, multiple OCs
A/N: To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.
Warning: Starts off very K, but eventually flirts with M.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek, any Star Trek characters or any Star Trek concepts and I still don’t get paid for writing about any of those.
( Read Ru2:13 )
( Read Prv22:6 )
( Read Prv4:1-15 )
( Read Col3:21 )
( Read Prv13:5-7 )
( Read SoS8:8 )
( Read Prv27:6 )
( Read Col3:14)
( Read SoS7:6-9)
( Read Prv30:18-19 )
“Is there any particular reason why you haven’t sent me a recommendation for your Cadet Uhura? “ Pike glanced up from the PADD he was reading. “Everyone else is singing her praises.”
“As you have said, Captain, my Lieutenant Uhura does not require my approbation to recommend her to you. Her work speaks for itself” Spock gestured toward Pike’s PADD “and her other instructors have spoken on her behalf.”
“That still doesn’t explain why she isn’t on your list. If you don’t want her on my ship, I’ll make sure she doesn’t come anywhere near it. But you’ve got to level with me, Spock. Will this woman’s presence pose a problem for you?”
“Captain, I—” Spock glanced towards Pike’s open door. He lowered his voice. “Captain, given the nature of my relationship with the lieutenant, I think it best that I recuse myself from any decisions directly concerning her placement following graduation.”
Pike was both stunned and a little puzzled. He was unused to seeing the unflappable young Vulcan flustered. As his future commanding officer, he’d been given a copy of the report generated during the disclosure hearing Spock had insisted was necessary before he could begin teaching classes. Nothing revealed at the time would render his first officer’s recommendation ineligible.
The relationship had been described as a “longstanding, quasi-familial affiliation” which had begun when the cadet was three years old and eventually become sufficiently significant as to influence Spock’s decision to enter Starfleet. The board had been more than willing to look the other way if one of their most distinguished graduates ended up instructing a brilliant young woman who was halfway to being his little sister.
“What’s the problem, Spock?” Pike asked again, testy because he wasn’t sure where his protégé was leading. “Did you do something to piss that girl off again? If I recall correctly, she’s been angling for the Enterprise almost since she got here. Are you trying to tell me that she’s changed her mind now that you’re going to be my XO?”
“Sir, I am attempting to inform you that the parameters of our association have changed.” He paused, looking down. “However, I foresee no hesitation, on either my or Nyota’s part, to serving together. Rather the opposite, actually.”
Chris searched the Vulcan’s face for any hint that his young first officer was saying what Chris thought he was hearing. Except for the quiet voice and his half-shuttered eyes, Spock appeared the way he always did: calm, aloof and impassive. His words, though, implied something the older man found hard to fathom.
It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Spock was capable of falling for a great mind stuck behind a face; he just had a hard time accepting that the kid would do anything about it.
“Commander, you’re going have to be more explicit than that,” he said, and while part of him hoped Spock would disabuse him of the notion, another — far larger — part really wanted to believe that the kid had finally found the right woman. He didn’t hesitate to ask his next question, in spite of the discomfort it might cause his companion. “Are you engaging in a romantic or sexual relationship with her? Are you doing both.”
Spock looked up sharply, met Chris’s eyes fully for the first time since beginning his “confession.”
“Exactly ten months ago, I asked Lieutenant Uhura to be my wife, sir,” he said. “We will travel to my homeworld during the February break to formalize our betrothal.”
“This is ridiculous, Nyota! Your family doesn’t even celebrate Christmas.”
“We didn’t. But since Muta met this Melody girl, he’s been trying all kinds of new things. ‘Penda is pretty sure they’ll be giving gifts to all of us this year. Wouldn’t it be kind of weird not to give them anything in return?”
“Not when it’s not your holiday.” Jane Faransdóttir eyed the crowded mall corridor shrewdly. She saw a break in the mass of people and plunged in, dragging her friend behind her. “I’d totally get it if your parents wanted to make this girl feel welcome. But have you even met this girl?”
“Well, no. Not in person. But I’ve talked to her over the comm. And Muta talks abut her all the time, so I sort of have an idea of her likes and dislikes.”
“Humph. Do a few chats on the comm make her worth beggaring yourself and braving this?” She waved a hand at the last-minute shoppers currying from store to store.
“Ja-ane!” Nyota cajoled. “I’m not looking for anything really expensive. Just something that says, ‘I don’t hate you for stealing my big brother.’“
“And you need my help why? What the hell do I know about how Americans do Christmas? Mamma and I hardly celebrate it because Pabbi is Muslim and, besides, Christmas is really different in Iceland.”
“You grew up in San Francisco! Besides, I’ve only got two days and you’re the best shopper I know. With you on the job, we’ll be in and out less than thirty minutes from now.”
Jane shrugged and kept walking.
“What’s going on over there?” Nyota asked, pointing at a long queue trailing out of a store she thought dealt exclusively in bed textiles.
Glancing over, Jane scowled. “They started this new thing. Personalized hugging-pillows. It’s so stupid. People are wasting a gazillion credits on those things when for less than an eighth of the price those thieves are charging, they could slap one together themselves. Give me a two and a half meters of jersey and an hour and I could make one with my eyes closed.”
“Personalized hugging-pillow?”
“You know. Your image printed on a pillow sort of shaped like a giant stick-figure? It’s all the rage for couples. That place will even make it smell like your favorite food or perfume or something.”
“Why would anyone want to cuddle up to something that smells like dinner?” Nyota mused.
Jane shrugged again and led her into a store that sold inexpensive jewelry. “I don’t know, but I sold three dozen of them already, and I just making them a week ago. And mine are way better than the garbage the sell over there.”
“Can you make one of me?”
“Sure,” the older girl said. “And I can even make sure it’s shaped like you.”
“You mean like a giant stick-figure?”
“A giant stick-figure wearing really hot boots.” She grabbed her friend’s head and turned it towards a case filled with carved jadeite earrings. “That way!”
.
Fifteen minutes later, the young women exited the mall. Nyota clutched a small jewelry box , but two bags dangled from each of Jane’s wrists. “Best shopper I know” failed to give adequate merit to her skills.
“So, what are you getting for your family?” she asked as they approached the nearest transport station.
Nyota’s face twisted in confused trepidation. “Umm,” she said and Jane grinned wide. “I can’t wait to hear all about your trip, En,” she said.
In order to accommodate the seven percent of Starfleet cadets who observed the Christian holiday, and because North America in general still tended to celebrate the secular holiday, Academy classes typically ended early on the twenty-fifth day of December. When that date occurred on a Friday, they were often cancelled altogether. Nyota had arranged for tickets on a shuttle leaving not long after the conclusion of Thursday’s classes.
Spock was grateful for the three-day weekend that afforded him a chance to travel to Garissa for the Uhuras’ first Christmas. While he hadn’t been very interested in taking part in a celebration that was unfamiliar even to the family, he’d looked forward to the short respite from San Francisco’s damp and cold. Putting up with Dr. M’Umbha’s stealth mothering (as well as the gentle teasing that Wakufunzi women were seemingly genetically predisposed to forcing upon their loved ones) was a small price to pay in exchange for a short stay in the District’s warm, dry climate.
Nyota had also been looking forward to the short break. Her enthusiasm had manifested itself in the form of a contagious playfulness that still fizzed through his system. While it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, he was grateful that he rarely experienced it outside the Uhura compound. This time, however, it had begun outside the shuttleport in San Francisco when Nyota had turned to him and, grasping his ears through the woolen cap he wore to stave off the cold, declared, “You are so cute, Spocky!”
He’d protested, of course, and had quickly removed her hands from his person. But that hadn’t stopped the familiar buzzing he knew from long experience signaled an urge to tease and play.
The urge increased when they reached the Uhura compound and received warm greetings from Nyota’s parents and sister. Not for the first time, he wondered if the women of his ko-kugalsu’s family were using their peculiar psi-Talents to influence him. He was fairly certain this wasn’t the case. M’Umbha Uhura bint Wakufunzi was adamant that her children refrain from using their abilities frivolously.
“Why don’t you two go freshen up and change,” she suggested, eying their cold-weather clothing as Spock deposited several packages around the potted fir placed in a corner of the massive front room. “I’ve put you both in Ennie’s old room.”
“Okay, Mama,” Nyota replied. “We’ll be back down in a few minutes.”
M’Umbha glanced at Spock then turned a sly grin on her youngest child. “Take your time, binti,” she said. “There’s no hurry.”
“Thank you, Dr. M’Umbha,” Spock said as he joined them near the staircase. “We shall return in no more than three quarters of an hour.”
He heard Upenda murmur something that ended in “quickie” followed by her father’s sharp admonition as he led Nyota up the stairs.
.
Nyota insisted on giving him his gift as soon as they’d changed clothes.
Sitting on the bed, facing the French doors that offered an appealing view of the red and brown countryside beyond Benjamin Uhura’s gardens, Spock opened the long, flat box she offered. He pulled out a large flat cushion that shaped into an imprecise representation of his ko-kugalsu’s silhouette, his brow slightly furrowed.
“You know I do sleep on a pillow, beloved.”
“It’s not for sleeping on,” she chided cheerfully and sank onto the bed next to him. Bending down, she pulled up the left leg of her lightweight trousers and clipped her betrothal gift around her ankle.
“What is its purpose, then?”
Smiling patiently, as if the answer were obvious, Nyota leaned over and brushed her lips against his jaw. “She’ll keep you company whenever I’m not available. And her scent is supposed to be relaxing. Comforting.”
Still perplexed, Spock continued to stare at the pillow. It was lightly perfumed with her personal blend of fragrance overlaying a fainter aroma of his preferred meditation incense. His beloved’s image had been faithfully reproduced on the surface but the two-dimensional picture held none of the appeal flesh and blood woman.
“I do not foresee a time when I will make use of this pillow,” he told her, laying the pillow across her knees. “You must forgive me for preferring the real thing.”
Nyota opened her mouth to protest.
In a poorly-conceived attempt to redirect the conversation, Spock made a critical error. The hum of what he thought of as his Wakufunzi emotion kept him from considering his next words carefully.
“I spoke with Captain Pike two days ago.”
Nyota rolled her eyes. She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. He only did this with her, she was certain. Stating the obvious went against his Vulcan upbringing. Every once in a while, though, he drew out a story for her benefit, to satisfy her sense of the dramatic, he claimed. Sometimes — like when the news was good— she appreciated it. Other times he used it as a stalling tactic when he wanted to tell her something she didn’t want to hear. She wondered which it would be now.
“You talk to Pike every day, k’diwa.”
“On Wednesday, we discussed you.”
Her jaw dropped and her head snapped up. She grabbed his chin and turned his head until she could meet his eyes. “What? Why?”
Spock briefly related his conversation with the captain.
“Hold on a second,” she ordered. Spock felt her cheerful mood begin to ebb. Her rising anger had no effect on his own good spirits. “I’ve been working my ass off for the last three and half years because I wanted the best starship in the fleet. To get that, I needed be the best in my field. I know I’ve achieved that. You know it too, but you — the one person whose opinion he values probably above all others when it comes to his ship — couldn’t be bothered to give me a recommendation? And then you told him about us as an excuse?
“Here!” she snapped, shoving the pillow in his lap. “Maybe you’ll come to appreciate her when I’m stuck on another ship.”
Spock’s happiness refused to be thwarted.
“I am perfectly able to function — at least for short intervals — outside your immediate vicinity,” he said moving the pillow aside again and pulling the real Nyota onto his lap. When she didn’t try to move away, he began trailing fingers beneath her shirt. “However, as Captain Pike’s interest and the references of your other instructors are likely to carry more weight than the lack of my own recommendation, I do not foresee a time when I shall have need of an inferior facsimile.”
He could feel her indignation spark. But he sensed his hands were igniting different kind of fire. A spurt of amusement rippled through him as he acknowledged the metaphorical language she inspired in his thoughts.
“‘Inferior?’ Spocky, you should have seen the dross they were selling at the mall! The craftsmanship of Jane’s doll is at least a thousand times better than what the stores offer. And don’t laugh at me!”
“I was not laughing at you, ashal-veh,” he hedged, and ignored the skepticism emanating from her. Touching his lips to the spot behind his beloved’s sensitive ear, he murmured, “Nor was it my intention to disparage your friend or her art. I was merely pointing out my preference for the living—.” He punctuated the word a kiss on her neck. “Breathing—.” And followed it with another on her shoulder. “Nyota Uhura. She is far superior to a pillow stuffed with cotton and incense, no matter how well-made it is.”
“Nice save!” With a grin he could feel through the link, she reached back to ruffle his hair. “You learn quickly, and you learn well.”
“Pleasing you is not only my duty,” he told her, “but also something I find considerably pleasing.”
She disentangled herself from his embrace, but didn’t move from his lap. Twisting around, she cupped his face in her hands, her own expression serious.
“Are you trying to seduce me in order to avoid further argument about my posting?”
“Yes,” he admitted. He didn’t have the grace to look contrite. That wouldn’t have been unusual except that the half-smile of his lips appeared decidedly smug.
“How many times do I have to tell you that isn’t going to work?”
“That depends on your ultimate goal. If it is convincing me of the veracity of your claim, you will have to continue until your actions support your words. If you merely wish me to increase my efforts at distraction, no further assertions are necessary.”
He loosened the drawstring at her waist and pushed the linen trousers past her hips. She wiggled to ease the garment’s passage, then curled up sideways in his lap. Tracing a finger down her left leg, he leaned down to kiss the knee. His hand continued its journey until it reached the anklet.
Spock knew she hated taking it off, but by the end of the long winter break she had already given up protesting his edict that she wear it only when they were alone or away from campus. He straightened, pulling her in tight to his chest. She deserved, and received, another kiss for her compliance. He got his own reward when she started shivering and purring.
“Are my efforts having the desired effect, Lieutenant?” he murmured against her collarbone.
Whenever he behaved this way, she was lost. Didn’t have a chance against his charm.
“Yes. But only because you’re right,” she told him. “I’ll be on the Enterprise — whether you are or not.”
And then she let him pull her shirt over her head.
.
.
Twenty-three minutes and a hurried second shower later, a thoroughly sated Nyota tried not to blush under her sister’s knowing gaze. Spock’s placid expression gave no indication of what they had been up to. Mama and Baba pretended they had no clue, ether.
“My, dada,” Upenda said, her sly tone a warning that she was in full-on teasing mode, “you and kaka look remarkably ‘refreshed.’ I figured you two would be up there a lot longer. Guess not. “
Mama’s speaking look shut her up, but did nothing to stop the young doctor’s laughter.
“Presents!” Eight pairs of eyes swung over to Baba at his unexpected exclamation. He stood and walked over to the potted tree. “Melody says her family opens their presents on Christmas Eve. Christmas Day is for going to church and visiting relatives. Why don’t we follow their example?”
Upenda looked skeptical. “You want us to go to church tomorrow?” Although much of the Uhura clan was nominally Christian, Baba’s parents hadn’t raised their children within any particular denomination, and he’d never taken his own children to a religious service.
“I think we should open our presents now,” Baba replied patiently. “Then it will be out of the way when Muta and his Melody arrive tomorrow.”
“Oh! Oh, yes,” Upenda said. “That’s a good idea.”
The shrewd calculation on her sister’s face left Nyota suspicious. A minute later, her distrust was vindicated.
“What’s this?” she asked, holding up the object she’d unwrapped from the little box her sister had placed in her lap.
‘Penda grinned evilly. “It’s a dental guard,” she said. “We prescribe them for biters. I’ve modified this one so you can wear it to avoid any more… mishaps.”
Nyota glared at her older sister, and only Spock’s warm hand at the back of her neck kept her from flinging the offending article towards Upenda’s white teeth.
“Dada,” Spock said, “I believe you should open my present now. Nyota’s time was limited and she was unable to secure gifts for the family. I took it upon myself to select appropriate items for everyone.”
He rose to his feet and walked over to the tree. Without a moment’s hesitation, he selected a gift that was slightly larger than the one Upenda had given her sister and carried over to her.
Eagerly, Upenda tore at the wrapping and lifted the lid. Spock had earned a reputation for being a stellar gift-giver, in spite of the fact that Vulcans rarely engaged in the practice. She reached in and pulled out her present.
Her smile faded.
“What the hell, kaka?”
“It is a chastity belt,” Spock said with feigned innocence. “I believe you might find it useful when Axin Loures is visiting.”
The look ‘Penda gave him was pure fire, and Nyota wasn’t sure her sister would hesitate in launching the collection of delicate gold chains, formed into a shape vaguely reminiscent of panties, at her sa-kugalsu.
“Children!” Mama snapped, but her eyes were shining. “Enough.” She turned to Spock and winked. “Welcome to the family, mwana. I always knew you fit right in.”
The rest of the gift-sharing was mundane in comparison. Baba got a new CO2 extractor — “Grandfather’s engineers upgraded the design,” Spock informed him. “Output is increased, while expended energy is greatly reduced” — for his stillroom. Mama received three beautiful Vulcan-designed robes.
Mama and Baba gave Spock a subscription to a new science journal, and Nyota got yet another pair of earrings. The nephrite hoops would look well with her engagement anklet, everyone agreed.
Not surprisingly, Upenda hadn’t gotten anything for Spock. “I figured Ennie’s present would be gift enough for both of them,” she joked, and Spock countered with, “Surely the dental apparatus is superfluous when paired with the steel prophylactic you sent on my birthday?”
The family cast surprised looks at Upenda, but all conceded that Spock’s closing salvo had deftly secured him the last word. The two males escaped the front room claiming dinner preparation as their excuse before the three women were finished laughing.
.
.
Spock was well aware that the past fifty-seven days had not passed any more quickly than any other fifty-seven days had gone by, and yet the date for his second van-kal t’telan seemed to arrive almost without notice. He was forced to acknowledge the truth of the human saying “Time flies when you’re having fun.”
Time flew at such a velocity, in fact, he found himself failing to live up to Nyota’s obsessive need for punctuality.
“I can’t believe you’re not ready yet!” she exclaimed after bursting into his sleeping chamber, two days before their van-kal t’telan was scheduled to take place on Vulcan. “We leave in three hours!”
“Even with the extra items you will undoubtedly insist I bring along,” he told her, “it should take me no longer than seven point three minutes to pack.”
Nyota shook her head and strode over to his wardrobe to retrieve his duffel. When she yanked open the door, the “hugging pillow” fell at her feet.
“You’ve been keeping her in the closet?” She snatched up the pillow and tossed it over her shoulder. When she turned, her face displayed ill-concealed amusement. “How is she supposed to keep you company if you leave her stuffed in there?”
Spock chose not to apprise her of how, on some nights when they’d deemed it imprudent for her to remain in his quarters, he’d slept clutching the pillow close. Not because he required its company, but because he found the traces of her scent that mingled with the aroma of the meditation incense she had mixed in with the stuffing to be soothing.
“It is stored in the closet when it not in use,” he allowed. “To do otherwise would be indiscreet.”
“Oh really? Suddenly you’re worried about discretion even though you let the cat out of the bag two months ago?” she queried, raising an eyebrow in unconscious imitation of his own quirk. It was far more attractive on her face, he mused as he remembered that mirroring behavior was an indicator of attraction and affection in humans. “So,” she went on, “when you said ‘when not in use,’ was that intended to be an indication that there are times when she is ‘in use’?”
He was Vulcan enough — and had been practicing Dr. Uhura’s methods long enough — to admit when his woman had caught him out.
“That was not my intention, no,” he said. “However, that is the truth of the matter.”
.
.
Amanda Grayson whisked her away from Spock the moment they arrived at the S’chn T’gai home. The fawning and primping started as soon as the doors closed on Spock and Sarek.
“M’Umbha will do the same when you get married,” she claimed as she ordered her daughter-to-be into a tub full of warm scented water. It was a luxury on Vulcan. “You may as well get used to it now.”
An hour later, she pushed Nyota into a chair set before a large vanity. Using her hip to spin the chair around so that it faced away from the mirror, the older woman began to gather her implements of torture (or beautification) while Nyota smiled gamely.
“You know, when he first told me to add you to my list of potential daughters-in-law, I wasn’t convinced it was a good idea.” She laughed softly then began twisting and curling and pinning the long dark strands. “I was so afraid he’d botch it!”
“Well, actually, Ko-mekh… he did. Didn’t I tell you? It took the whole day for him to get it right!” Nyota found herself suppressing a chuckle as she remembered the conversation that hadn’t been remotely funny at the time. “He didn’t bother with saying, ‘Oh, by the way, Nyota, I’m madly in love you’ first.”
Amanda recalled the warning she’d given her son and rolled her eyes, still smiling a little indulgently — but a more little ruefully. “No, I guess he wouldn’t have thought it was necessary. No matter what the human women in his life might have said about it.” She slid that last pin into the elaborate coiffure and wiped her hands on a small towel hanging from her waist.
Nyota beamed. “But then, after I freaked out a little and he showed me….” Her breath caught and her stomach fluttered at the memory. “It was…”
Grinning in return, the older woman selected several tubes and pots of cosmetics from the vanity table. “It is, isn’t it?” she asked quietly once it was clear Nyota wouldn’t continue. “The way they love is amazing, Ennie. I’m so glad you know how it feels. And it’s only going to get better. I really am pleased he chose you.”
“Even after…?” Nyota clicked her teeth together a few times instead of going on.
Throwing her head back, Amanda laughed heartily at the unsubtle reference to the reason behind their trip to a Vulcan temple.
“Especially after Wehk Aitlunlar, Ennie,” she said. “Now I can be sure he’ll be in safe hands. And safe from teeth. Now close your eyes.”
Amanda brushed layers of shadows in dusky plum and three shades of grey over the girl’s upper eyelid. A dark line, painted along the edge of thick lashes and extended beyond the corner of each eye, completed the look. Scrutinizing her handiwork as objectively as she could, she gave a pleased smile and reached for a pot of lip stain the color of dark raspberries.
She squeezed Nyota’s shoulders as she turned her around to face the mirror. “All done, sweetheart,” she said, and felt her own eyes get a little misty as the young woman stared at her face and hair in wonder. “He’s waiting for you.”
.
.
A year before Nyota had told Ko-mekh she was celebrating her best birthday ever. Today, Spock proved her wrong. She wondered how he could possibly make her twentieth even better.
The ceremony had been simple, lasting only moments. Although she’d known it would be — Spock, Ko-mekh and the temple priestesses had all told her exactly what to expect — she was still surprised that with just a brief touch of a healer and few words intoned through the three-way meld, Spock’s mind had become nearly as much a part of her as her own. It was astounding to know that sense of oneness would only increase after their permanent joining.
.
.
Amanda’s gaze went soft as she watched her husband speak with their new daughter. Sarek, though reserved as usual, somehow managed to ease Nyota’s nervousness. Perhaps that was because of his reserve, Amanda mused, thinking about Nyota’s last visit to Vulcan when the young woman had encountered a very different S’chn T’gai Sarek.
Spock appeared at her side.
“You have made me happy, my son.” She gestured toward the pair she continued to watch. “It seems I am not the only one.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “I am very happy, mother.”
.
.
Nyota wasn’t especially happy about wasting her time watching Jim Kirk fail his third attempt at the Kobayashi Maru. She was still annoyed that he’d watched her stripping off her uniform the night before, and she’d always had trouble taking the other cadet seriously. No one could really blame her for behaving accordingly. Even his sidekick, McCoy (who really should have known better. What the hell were they teaching in med school these days?) was barely able to hide his sarcasm and impatience.
Except Kirk didn’t fail and Nyota’s plans to spend the weekend with her sa-kugalsu went the way of their simulated Klingon attackers.
.
“How the hell did that kid beat your test,” asked one of the simulation technicians.
“I don’t know,” Spock said, staring at down at Kirk from the control room.
.
.
It him took two weeks to figure it out. He put off telling Nyota until she could spend the night in his bed without rushing off to early-morning classes the next day.
Tracing a finger along her jaw in the darkness of his bed chamber, he explained what he had uncovered. Nyota merely shrugged and wrapped her arms around his torso and twined her legs with his. It was by far her favorite sleeping position.
“If my findings are deemed evidence enough to warrant a disciplinary hearing—”
“Which they will,” she put in sleepily.
“you could be investigated as an accomplice because of your association with Cadet Gaila and your participation in the simulation. You would undoubtedly be exonerated, but in the course of the investigation, the true nature of our relationship could be exposed.”
“K’diwa,” she began, suddenly sounding alert, “I’m not worried because I know you’re not really worried. Don’t forget. I’ve got a direct feed on your frequency whenever I want to listen to in.”
.
.
His lips descended the valley between her small firm breasts. She hummed happily and he purred in concert.
His communicator chirruped. She stiffened and he froze.
“Don’t,” she ordered, “answer that.”
Sock sighed. “I must. The alert pattern indicates that the call is coming from a communicator belonging to a high-level officer.”
.
Spock clicked his communicator closed and climbed off the bed.
“I did not expect the board to act so quickly.”
“But I just heard you say the hearing isn’t until this afternoon,” Nyota protested.
His gaze flicked from the floor to his mate. She was sitting up, arms folded under her breasts. He wished he had not answered the call.
“Admiral Barnett has asked me to meet with him within the hour,” he apologized. “He would like to further discuss several points before the hearing convenes.”
They showered and dressed quickly. Nyota huffed out a frustrated groan as she dragged her sweater over her head. They hadn’t even gotten started!
“Amazing!” She yanked her short red skirt into place. “Kirk-the-Jerk can lok-block even when he’s not in the room!” Laughing at her own rhymes, she lost the fierce scowl and smiled up at Spock’s unsmiling face.
“You must be more careful of your conduct, Lieutenant,” he chided his mate. “Even if we are discovered today, I believe you will still have a ninety-eight point eight percent chance of receiving your chosen assignment. Even now — especially now — however, the board may alter their decisions based on our behavior.”
Chuckling, Nyota dismissed his concern and bent to zip her boots. “Nobody remains on their best behavior long while working with Jim Kirk, Commander. I think they’ll give me a pass. And as for our engagement, well, no one would ever believe you were capable of real misconduct.” She rose up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “But I’ll try to be good. Promise.”
She was already pivoting to leave when his arm shot out and spun her back around. “After the hearing, ashayam,” he murmured directly into her sensitive ear, “you may show me exactly how good you intend to be.”
.
.
James T. Kirk, son of George S. Kirk, Sr., had many lessons to learn. That much was clear to Spock as he listened to the cadet protest the intended lesson of the Kobayashi Maru simulation.
A distress call from his home planet ensured “After the hearing” never came.
If it wasn’t for the natural disaster taking place on his XO’s homeworld, Christopher Pike might have chuckled to himself. This wasn’t how he had always imagined the Enterprise’s maiden voyage, but at least everything else had gone smoothly once the helmsman had figured out how release the parking brake.
And then a swollen George Samuel Kirk, Jr.’s burst onto the bridge with two other cadets on his heels.
.
“Vulcan is not experiencing a natural disaster,” son James Tiberius Kirk declared. “It’s being attacked by Romulans.”
Incensed that the kid would try to draw attention to himself in this way, Chris dismissed him and promised McCoy a chat in the future.
But the cadet wouldn’t stop talking, and his persistence induced Spock to speak which was the last thing the kid should have wanted after his antics. Pike decided to see how Spock would handle it.
“Look, I get it,” Kirk snapped at the first officer. “You’re a great orator. I’d love to do it again with you, too.”
“I can remove the cadet—” Spock began telling Pike.
“Try it!” the boy interrupted. “This cadet is trying to save the bridge.”
“By recommending a full stop mid-warp during a rescue mission?” Spock was slipping, letting his annoyance show. Pike wondered if he should step in.
“It’s not a rescue mission,” the kid insisted. “Listen. It’s an attack.”
“Based on what facts?” Spock wanted to know. His voice remained flat, but Chris wondered just how badly Kirk was testing that vaunted Vulcan control.
“That same anomaly — a lightning storm in space — that we saw today, also occurred on the day of my birth. Before a Romulan ship attacked the USS Kelvin.” He turned to Chris, and said in a considerably more respectful, but no less urgent, tone, “You know that, sir. I read your dissertation. That ship, which had formidable and advanced weaponry, was never seen or heard from again.”
Intrigued in spite of Kirk’s insubordination, Pike decided to let him continue.
“The Kelvin attack took place on the edge of Klingon space and at twenty-three hundred hours last night, there was an attack. Forty-seven Klingon warbirds destroyed by a Romulan, sir. It was reported that the Romulans were in one ship, one massive ship.”
If what the cadet claimed was true…
“And you know of this Klingon attack how?”
“Sir, I intercepted and translated the message myself,” the third cadet said. “Kirk’s report is accurate.”
Pike recognized the face, even though he had spent nearly four years avoiding confirming his suspicions about the name.
“We’re warping into a trap, sir. The Romulans are waiting for us, I promise you that,” Kirk said, and this time Pike was starting to believe it might be true.
Even Spock appeared convinced. “The cadet’s logic is sound,” he conceded. “And Lieutenant Uhura is unmatched in xenolinguistics, we would be wise to accept her conclusion.”
Pike started issuing orders, and when the communications officer admitted he might not be able to tell the difference between Vulcan and Romulan, the captain turned to his XO’s fiancée.
“What about you?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know. He respected her fiancé and wanted to protect his damned heightened sense of propriety. But it wasn’t a bad way to test her mettle under fire, either. “Do you speak Romulan, cadet…?”
“Uhura,” she replied without batting an eye. “All three dialects, sir.”
He ordered her to relieve the man Spock had picked by hand.
.
.
Captain Pike faced almost certain death on the colossal Romulan ship. The Enterprise went on despite severe damage and numerous casualties. Spock had no choice but to continue working, to make certain the starship and the beings it hosted continued to exist. There was no time for grief and questions about how the future unfold now that Nero had changed everything.
His world was gone, the greater part of its people destroyed. The survivors aboard the Enterprise were receiving medical attention and would need accommodations until they could be transferred to another ship or planet.
His mother was dead, her body lost in the singularity that was once a planet. He was not alone in feeling her absence from the family bond. He pushed aside his father’s and his ko-kugalsu’s grief .
Nyota. There was no time to think of her. She invaded his thoughts anyway.
A tiny girl who huddled in his lap, fighting tears he’d caused, reminded him to feel.
Spock marooned Kirk on Delta Vega. As acting captain, he needed admirable performances from everyone and the cadet’s divisive actions and rhetoric would only distract and confuse his crew.
A perceptive nine-year-old defined him in terms that were startlingly similar to those his human grandfather had used. Her matter-of-fact acceptance of all that he was and was not had instantly secured his friendship.
The Enterprise limped towards the Laurentian System to join was left of the fleet. It was a more logical choice than charging after Nero’s ship without assistance.
A fifteen-year-old, nearly as socially awkward as he had been at the time, behaved like a child while demanding a kiss. Months later, she embraced her own path, and gained his admiration in the process of growing up. He was already hers by the time the Marja Sklodowska returned to Earth.
.
.
Only a great irony allowed him to completely shut her out. Newer bonds — especially those formed in adulthood — took time to settle along the pathways of two minds, and so were usually difficult to obstruct. Never especially good at suppressing his emotional reactions, Spock should not have been able to hide what he was feeling from his ko-kugalsu.
He suspected that some combination of her Betazoid ancestry and her training among those people — transfused to him when their minds were joined — gave him a command of his emotions than he would have otherwise managed. He wondered how long he could keep her at bay before that control began to slip.
.
“Everything is different now.”
“Clarify.” Before, he would have teased her about the imprecision of her declaration. Two days, six hours, thirty-seven minutes… Now, he found he needed additional time to formulate the words she did not want to hear, and which he did not wish to say.
“You know what I mean. So few ever left the planet for very long. So– so few made it to the… and now that Ko-mekh—” she broke off in a choked sob, but quickly forced herself in a semblance of composure. “And now, now that Vulcan is gone and there are so few left…”
“So, ‘everything’ by your definition means the ways in which your future will progress? You focus on the unhappiness that the loss of over six billion lives has brought to you?”
She didn’t mean to dismiss his pain in favor of her own, but she also refused to ignore the existence of her fears.
“Spock…” He was shutting her out of their bond, but she knew he did not mean the words as they sounded. He could not. That much was apparent from the way her eyes softened.
“Forgive me, Nyota. Your tendency to care for others has not lessened,” he said, relenting. “My love for you has not changed.” Neither chose to acknowledge how little that mattered in the face of everything that had changed.
The needs of the many…
She walked across the room to wrap her arms around his waist and press her face into his back.
“Tushah nash-veh k’du,” she whispered.
His hands covered hers and squeezed.
“I grieve with thee,” he echoed.
.
.
Since meeting Nyota Uhura, Spock realized, he had been attempting to live his life as a human. Since becoming her lover, he been relying less and less on meditation to order his thoughts and rein in his emotions. He could not continue in that manner.
Vulcan was gone. His mother was dead. His damaged ship had a new captain and its crew was being tested in ways far more trying than any of them had expected at the outset of this mission.
Until the Romulans were defeated, he needed to be entirely Vulcan. For his father’s people. For the Enterprise. For Starfleet. For the Federation.
If he lived to see another day, the Spock his ko-kugalsu loved — had helped create — could not continue.
He said none of this as he prepared to beam over to the Romulan’s ship. Holding her close and covering her mouth with his, he allowed only his concerns of what might happen while he was away from the Enterprise flow through their bond.
“I will return,” he promised and tried to mean it.
“You’d better,” she ordered, letting him know she had not been fooled. “I’ll be monitoring your frequency.”
.
.
Watching the massive ship disappear into the black hole had fulfilled the unfamiliar desire for revenge. Earth — Spock’s only remaining home — had been spared. For the moment, the federation was safe.
Satisfaction was short-lived.
Vulcan was still gone. His mother could not be brought back. The numbers of father’s people were still reduced to a tiny fraction of what they once had been. Logic still decreed he should abandon his chosen mate in order to help rebuild their numbers.
He found her in the sleeping alcove of his quarters again. While once seeing Nyota Uhura lying in his bed would have been a common enough occurrence, now…
Now, in the absence of that driving force, there was only the logic of the choice he must make.
She didn’t stir as he reached for his meditation robe, then, laying it across the back of a chair, pulled off his tunic. She didn’t speak, although he knew she was not sleeping.
“These are not your assigned quarters, Lieutenant.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke, continuing, instead, to exchange his uniform for the lightweight robe.
“No.” Uhura didn’t move from her place on his bed. “But I belong here. My place is at your side. Let me help you.”
He didn’t speak as he held out another, smaller robe.
.
As one, they emerged from the meditation trance. Nyota rose and walked over the bed, stripping off her robe as Spock extinguished the firepot.
“You must return to your quarters, Lieutenant,” he whispered to her nude back. She halted and turned to face him. His sudden inhalation was audible, sharp. After a minute hesitation, she stepped towards him.
“Why? You want me here. I want to be here.”
“As you acknowledged earlier, circumstances are different now that my planet has been destroyed.” He tried to hide his need from her but realized his control was already weakening. His ko-kugalsu had access to all that he felt.
She continued striding forward, ignoring his words, refusing to acknowledge the conflict inside of him. “Sexual desire is a not-unheard-of human reaction to grief. Psychologists have suggested that it might stem either from a desire to replace those who were lost, or from a need for the practitioners to affirm their own continued existence.”
“I am not human.” He searched for determination. For her sake.
“Nor are you Vulcan. You are both and you are neither. You are Spock and you feel this, too.” Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pressed her face into the hairs of his chest. “I can feel it, ashayam. We share this… need.”
“My duties to my people may preclude me from honoring my commitment to y—”
She tipped her head back, and her hands released his waist to grasp his face. “At this moment, you remain my sa-kugalsu and this is still where I belong.”
“Nyota, please…”
“‘Please’ what?”
“Please do not ask me to cause you more pain than I have already and will most likely do in the future.”
“This?” She drew a finger down his cheek. “This isn’t pain, k’diwa. Feeling you suffer and doing nothing is painful. Sharing it with you, sharing myself with you right now — no matter what comes next — is not painful.”
He said nothing, but did not move away. She could feel his sense of duty and justice warring with his desire to capitulate. To hold on to her. To lose himself in her, if only for the moment.
“Spock, I need this, too,” she whispered despairingly, and her pain, combined with his own need, were enough to overwhelm the last of his resistance. “I lost her, too.”
Even if he had not drawn in a choked, shuddering breath, she would have known he was close to losing the last of his control.
“Shi t’nash-veh wilat?” she asked, her voice stronger. “Shi t’du wilat?”
The dam broke.
“You belong with me,” he replied, unable to keep the emotion that flowed freely through their bond from his voice. “I belong with you.”
Gathering her into his arms, he pressed fevered kisses on her neck and shoulders. “Taluhk nash-veh k’dular,” he murmured against her soft skin, and she shuddered beneath his touch. “Taluhk nash-veh k’dular,” he repeated. “Taluhk nash-veh k’dular.”
Go to Chapter 12
Tags:
