1C13:11, Chapter 12, Ru1:16
Dec. 12th, 2010 02:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teaoliTitle: 1C13:11 — Ru1:16
Characters: Spock, Amanda, Uhura, multiple OCs
A/N: “Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people.”
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 )
( Read Ecc3:1-8 )
It was good to be home. She kept telling herself that even though the forced leave still rankled.
Death was a daily possibility for Starfleet members who served on starships. They were expected to do their duties, even after losing loved ones. That she had been sent home like a little girl more than a month after returning to Earth and completing her final year at the Academy seemed like an insult to her ability to do her job. But the admiral had left her without any say in the matter.
“Go grieve with people you love,” had been his parting words. “That’s an order!” His expression had softened before she could issue another protest. “None of us are expected to be superheroes, Lieutenant,” he’d said more gently. “You need this. And you’ve earned it.”
Tushah nash-veh k’du.
She had felt like the whole universe should have disappeared along with Vulcan, once she was free to think about it. She was grateful for what she still had, but heartache borne alone had turned out to be as close to unmanageable as anything she’d experienced in her short life.
Tushah nash-veh k’du.
But with only the faint sense of Spock’s shrouded presence in the back of her mind — neither had dared to suggest completely breaking the bond so close to his twenty-eight birthday — she felt as if she were alone.
Tushah nash-veh k’du.
Nyota’s feet found their way along the garden paths without permission — or even input, really — from her mind.
Tushah nash-veh k’du.
The scent of jasmine, blooming in the gathering darkness, beckoned her, but she turned away from the place Spock had made his and turned instead into the brick enclosure directly across from it.
Roses dominated Amanda Grayson’s garden in Garissa. It was a tiny reflection of the one she had nurtured on Vulcan. Nyota had often helped her father, or the woman he hired to help him, tend the space when Amanda hadn’t been there to do it herself. The young woman’s sense of loss swelled s she stood on the threshold of this space she now considered sacred.
A figure, dark silhouette against the fading light, caught her eye as she stepped through. The familiar outline of the tall form chased her breath away.
Tushah nash-veh k’du. She was not so alone, after all.
“Spock!” But this was not Spock, she noted as he turned to face her. And yet… “Who are you?” The question came as a breathless whisper. She stepped closer to the tall, elderly Vulcan whose broad shoulders and lithe form so closely resembled those of her sa-kugalsu.
He walked forward until they were nearly touching, his hand raised in the ta’al.
“I am Spock, Nyota.” His voice, so much more deeply resonant than the one she knew so well, though touched with age, was the fulfilled promise of Spock’s lighter tenor. “It is pleasing to see you again.”
Confusion warred with wonder. This couldn’t be her Spock. His mind, his body, his soul and his heart did not call to her. And yet, clearly, he was Spock. The same chocolate-colored that had so often stared down at her, full of every emotion from annoyance to passion now watched her with open affection and… wistfulness.
“What happened to you?” Nyota reached forward, two fingers extended, but hesitated. “What happened?” she repeated.
For a moment, she saw disappointment flash in his eyes, only to be instantly replaced by resignation then… nothing.
Gesturing to a stone bench set close to high brick wall, he said, “Come. Sit. I will explain.”
She walked over to the low seat and sat. He followed.
“I am not him,” he began. And then he told her a tale she had already begun to guess on her own.
“I don’t understand,” she said once he finished speaking. “Why didn’t you meet her before she was assigned to the Enterprise?”
“For many years, Nyota Uhura had been little more than a name to me: the daughter of a woman whom I greatly admired,” Ambassador Spock explained, “and of the man to whom I owe my life. One of three children who perhaps would never have been born had the head of my clan not been grateful for my existence.
“M’Umbha Uhura was granted a full ambassadorship and left Vulcan while she was pregnant with her son, Muta. Even then, she and her husband were loath to be separated unnecessarily and one of his cousins was enlisted to monitor my progress. From the time the Uhuras left my home planet, our families were in contact almost solely through subspace. By the time Nyota entered the Academy after completing a graduate degree in Nairobi, I had already been assigned to the Enterprise under Captain Pike. It was pleasing to learn my t’dahsu did not have to wait so long to meet the other half of his heart and soul.”
Tears threatened as Nyota watched this other version of her k’diwa look out across Amanda Grayson’s garden. His heart and mind did not call to hers, but she could Hear his grief when she Listened closely. Adding to his sorrow was the last thing she wanted, but Spock had always valued honesty.
She slid her hand along the cool stone until her fingers covered his, letting her shields drop as she made contact.
Startled, Spock’s gaze flew to hers as her own anguish flowed through the link.
“He changed his mind,” she whispered.
Christopher Pike glanced up at the hiss of his door. He opened his mouth, ready to protest whatever latest torture Starfleet Medical was about to inflict on him, but shut it with a snap when his first officer walked in instead.
He couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across his lips even as a voice in his head urged him to lob his pillow at the half-Vulcan.
The kid’s been through shit, Christopher told himself. He doesn’t need more of it from me.
But that didn’t stop the heavy weight of regret from settling in his stomach as he thought of Cadet — no, Lieutenant — Uhura. Just two days earlier girl had stormed into his hospital room ready to spit fire. But she’d looked worse than Spock did now by the time she’d calmed down enough to hear what Christopher had to say.
He waved his hesitant XO the rest of the way in. “Sit,” he ordered, pointing to the chair beside his bed. Spock complied, his tense posture the only indicator of his wary confusion until he said, “I am not certain I understand why you have called me here, Admiral.”
Pike nearly snorted at the title. Official word of his “promotion” hadn’t been released yet, but he wasn’t surprised that Spock was one of the very few who knew. Christopher wondered if Uhura had been the one to tell him. The idea made the fact that the Vulcan was playing stupid even more annoying.
To hell with his fragile feelings, the admiral thought.
“Don’t play dumb, Spock,” he said gruffly, a fierce scowl replacing the warm smile. “I told you you’ve got another cadet problem, and you’re here because I expect you to fix this one, too!”
Spock didn’t give an inch. Maintaining his perplexed expression, he steepled his hands and continued to gaze at Pike.
“Sir,” he said, “Lieutenants Uhura and Kirk have both already graduated. As they are the only ‘cadets’ with whom it has ever been suggested I might have had difficulties, I truly am at a loss as to your meaning.”
“Damn it, Spock!” Christopher levered himself into an upright position and adjusted the bed accordingly. He silently congratulated himself on the ease with which he had completed the maneuver, suddenly confident that he would be out of this bed in time for Kirk’s advancement ceremony the next month. “I mean the girl, and you know it!
“But it wouldn’t hurt you to consider making nice with Kirk, either,” he went on. “If you know they’ve given me the five bars, then you also must know they’re going to give him the Enterprise and, Heaven knows why, he’s set on having you as his number one.”
“That may be impossible, sir. My people now face extinction,” Spock replied. “I cannot ignore the likelihood that I will be called upon to help rebuild my race. Should that happen, I intend to resign my commission.”
“Fine! Go there for a little while, make a donation, and come back right away. Or, better yet, take Uhura with you. Command will grant you both the leave. Because I don’t see the reason in giving up a promising career in order to make a dubious — considering your heritage — genetic contribution.”
Spock winced, visibly, and Pike belatedly recalled something Uhura had revealed in the midst of their fraught conversation.
“They barely tolerated him because his mother was human,” she’d said bitterly. “They mocked him and taunted him, as when he was kid, they even fought with him. But now he’s prepared to give up everything for them. Don’t misunderstand me, sir. I know why he has to do this. I just—”
What she hadn’t been able to — or hadn’t allowed herself to — say was the reason he’d called Spock to his bedside. He started to apologize, to start over, but the young officer was already speaking.
“My parents received assistance from a geneticist after my conception. I am certain my father can engage the services of either the same person or those of someone similarly knowledgeable should my genes be deemed unacceptable to a potential mate,” he said, his voice stiff with the indignation he couldn’t quite conceal. “That aside, marriage is one area of Vulcan culture where we put aside logic to some extent. We are territorial about, and devoted to, our mates. There would be no simple way for me to ‘make a donation’ and then leave to continue my career.”
“If you’re so devoted to your mates, why aren’t you with your fiancée, helping her through the difficult time she’s having? And, if your mystery geneticist is so good, why can’t they make sure you and Uhura have Vulcan babies?”
“Lieutenant Uhura and I have already reached the conclusion that it may be necessary to set aside our betrothal.”
Christopher wasn’t satisfied with the half-answer and refused to be thwarted. He’d spent enough time with Spock to recognize when his friend was avoiding telling the truth.
“Why is that?”
“If we allow the betrothal to stand, she would likely be compelled to resign her commission as well. She has desired a Starfleet career for the past fourteen years, six months and thirteen days. I did not wish to ask her to give that up.”
That much was true, Christopher knew.
“Do you want to remain in Starfleet? Or did you only enlist to be near Spock?”
“I’ve wanted this I was five. Spock followed my dream.”
“Then you’d better remember how to follow orders. Go to Africa, Lieutenant.”
But the Vulcan’s reasoning wasn’t good enough to excuse a excellent communications specialist left too emotionally compromised to perform her duties to the full extent her abilities. It didn’t ease the permanent loss of stellar first officer.
“You haven’t broken the engagement yet, have you?” he tried. They hadn’t. That much he’d been able to wheedle out of the girl.
Spock looked as uncomfortable as Pike had ever seen him.
“We have not.”
“Then why aren’t you with her right now?” the admiral repeated.
“You ordered me to visit you, sir.”
“That’s not what I meant!” Christopher snapped. The challenge of matching wits with Spock had quickly lost its charm even for the convalescing — and extremely bored — former captain. He forced himself to calm down anyway. “Never mind. Answer this, Spock, why the hell did Lieutenant Uhura look as if her whole world had ended when she came to see me two days ago?”
Once she’d let go of her anger over his unexpected orders, the lieutenant had looked haggard, despondent… broken.
“I’m an officer of Starfleet.” But her voice had been weakened by the sorrow she was no longer attempting to hide.
The commander was quiet for so long, Pike began to wonder if he might refuse to answer.
“Nyota and my mother were extremely close,” came the eventual reply.
“Exactly!” How he managed to keep smug satisfaction out of his expression was anybody’s guess. “Which is why I ordered her back to Africa for a mandatory bereavement leave.”
“My father is here in San Francisco, consulting with the High Council as the Terran xenopsychiatrist most experienced in dealing with Vulcans,” she had protested.
“I know,” Christopher had responded. “I don’t care. I also know he goes home to your mother whenever he can. When he leaves again tomorrow, you’d better be on the shuttle with him. He’s expecting you.”
“She left yesterday and can’t come back for at least two weeks.”
The look of surprise on Spock’s face confirmed what Christopher already suspected. “Have you even seen her since you got back to Earth?”
“I have had many duties to attend to, both for Starfleet and for what remains of the Vulcan High Council.”
Pike grimaced. “So your answer is ‘no,’ I take it?”
“No, sir,” Spock admitted. “I have not seen her since we left the Enterprise.”
“Well, in that case, I think you’d better make sure you find your way to Africa. Soon.”
“Sir, I fail to see the benefit in—” Spock began to say.
With a speed that surprised even him, Pike reached behind him and grabbed his pillow. He was gratified to see the Vulcan didn’t have time to duck before his commanding officer brought it crashing down on his head.
Nyota let Benjamin Uhura enfold her in his strong arms as if she were still a little girl. She hugged back with all her strength, burying her face into his shoulder.
“I have to go back, Nyota Ndogo,” he whispered, regret coloring each word. “They have need of me.”
“I know,” she said and pulled away, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her tear-stained eyes. “I know, Baba. I’ll be back myself in a week or two. Have to be there when Kirk gets his three bars.”
She could Hear Baba’s disbelief in the smile, and tried to reassure him. “I’m a big girl. Don’t worry about me. Besides, Mama has shoulders, too.”
Benjamin grabbed her for another fierce hug before turning to offer his wife the same. “You make sure she cries on them,” he whispered in M’Umbha’s ear.
Spock stepped forward, and placed his hands on her shoulders. The lines of his face looked more pronounced as he assessed the young Nyota Uhura standing before him, a brave face doing little to mask her anguish.
“I would like to see you again before the launch,” he murmured. “Or, perhaps you will be able to visit the colony, should the Council approve of the planet I have selected.
“I would like that,” she told him, and this time her smile was real.
Spock wasn’t surprised when Benjamin Uhura approached him on the grounds of the Vulcan Embassy, parts of which closely resembled the gardens in Garissa. It was more curious that the doctor had not sought him out sooner. They had both been busy over the past forty-three days, but his ko-kugalsu’s father had never before let a heavy schedule prevent him from initiating these private talks. Spock had been seeking solitude to contemplate — again — Admiral Pike’s order, but welcomed the older man’s company, nonetheless.
“M’Umbha and I were forbidden to marry,” the doctor said without preamble, “and even after we eloped, our families expected us to remain childless.”
Spock turned his head study Benjamin’s profile, but said nothing. This would be a serious discussion, then; that much was apparent.
“We had assistance, of course,” Nyota’s father continued. “At the time, I didn’t think of that. Neither did my wife. We were young, in love and still believed we could defy the world.” He smiled at the memory of the young man he had been, but his companion detected something like old fear — possibly even regret — in the set of man’s shoulders. “We didn’t question how we were able to get away with it, how the paperwork was pushed through.”
Spock stopped walking when Benjamin came to an abrupt halt and faced him.
“Surely Nyota told you some of what the Wakufunzi are before you were bonded.”
A quiet nod was all the confirmation he required.
“Then you must know that M’Umbha’s family — or mine, even — could have stopped us any time they wished. But, as I said, we had assistance. From someone more important than the Uhuras… and more powerful than the Wakufunzis.
“Without that person, it is almost certain that Nyota would never have been born. There are likely some who continue to believe she never should have been, that the risk of exposure is still too great.
“But then, there was you. And she loved you and you loved her and M’Umbha and I believed we could hide behind that if the need arose. Little risk of exposure if she became fully bonded to a Vulcan.”
“Exposure?” Spock’s left eyebrow rose, illustrating his perplexity. “You have used the word twice. What is this secret you needed to keep hidden?”
Benjamin resumed his leisurely pace. Spock clasped his wrist behind his back and followed suit.
“Have you ever wondered why, or how the Uhuras became such efficient warriors? Or why so many of those warriors also became doctors?”
The young Vulcan’s silence spurred Benjamin to continue.
“We were aided in those early endeavors, Spock,” he explained somberly. “And our benefactors were welcomed into the family. They became one with us, teaching us how to fight, and, later, when only surgery and… other methods could conceal the ways in which they changed who we were, we we learned to conceal that, as well.”
“What are you trying to tell me?” Had he been fully human, he might have admitted that his ko-kugalsu’s father was frightening him.
“Mwana, I could not love you more if you were Muta — that will not change no matter what path you choose — but some might consider your father’s people and those of my many-times-great-grandfather to be enemies.
“They called themselves ‘chi’Thaai Veothai,’ and while they did not revere Surak, they believed many of his teachings were correct and would ultimately become necessary to the survival of their people. As you can imagine, this did not endear them to the Empire.”
Spock had stilled at the Romulan words Benjamin used to name his ancestors. He searched himself for the blinding hatred he’d held for Nero, but found only curiosity in its place. “Logic’s Children?” he translated.
“Yes, though we say ‘Children of Reason’ on the rare occasions we refer to ourselves in Standard.”
Benjamin’s burden was suddenly clear in Spock’s mind. He did not waste time analyzing the possible implications to his betrothal bond with Nyota; Benjamin was hurting, and he had learned to admit — to himself, at least — that this man was as important to him as his own father.
“That is why Nyota speaks all of their dialects.”
“Young Uhuras begin learning the language of the chi’Thaai Veothai even before they speak Standard. Because my wife is bint Wakufunzi, my children’s progress was accelerated. Our Little Star’s even more so than that of her siblings.”
“She does not know of this, does she?”
“I have not told her,” the human confessed, “If I had, I do not doubt she would have told you before your minds were first joined.”
“Undoubtedly.” Spock’s nod was as curt as his response. Unbidden, the memory of a day spent working alongside this man in a garden in Garissa came. “Your initial medical training — it was not completed at a traditional institution, was it?” he asked.
Benjamin’s eyes found his, surprise conspicuously absent. “No. I learned from Uhuras that came before me.”
“And, although you said you specialized in pediatrics,” Spock continued, “it would not be inaccurate to suppose your concentration was in genetics, would it?”
The older man’s expression was thoughtful, his gentle face settling into its customary placidity. “It would not,” he allowed.
“Baba…” Spock hesitated, still too unused to the swell of emotion he allowed to flow more freely than usual to care that he’d called the doctor “father.”
He was almost certain that his newest suspicion was accurate, but was unsure how to ask the question. If Benjamin Uhura had intended to broach the subject, he would have done so already. And he would not have held on to the secret without reason. But Spock wanted to know.
“Baba,” he began again. “Are you the geneticist who assisted my parents after my conception? Were you the one who saved my life?”
The human’s silence spoke volumes. It was not enough.
“Baba?” Spock’s eyes bore into his would-be father-in-law’s as the silence stretched out between them.
Resigned, Benjamin answered at last. “Yes.”
As one, they turned and sat on a stone bench that was much like the ones Benjamin kept in his own gardens.
“And now that you know?” Benjamin shifted uncomfortably. Spock had never before seen his ko-kugalsu’s father so ill-at-ease. “Will she know through your bond?”
“It is her right to know this,” the Vulcan pointed out. “It is her heritage. But the bond is… cloaked, and she will not know unless I tell her. And I will not do so unless you wish me to.”
His movements slow and less precise than was customary, Benjamin stood and began walking down the path again.
“She should know,” he conceded. “It is her right — Upenda and Muta are already aware of their history, and their genes are more easily explained than hers. She should know. And perhaps she already does.” He did not explain his allusion and Spock chose not to question it. “Whether you or I tell her…,” Benjamin went on, “I leave that choice to you, mwana.”
“I am going to Garissa in three days,” said Spock.
“Yes. I know.”
Her personal comm chimed when she was alone in the little room that had been hers since she was tiny. She lay on her bed as she had each night since her return, trying in vain to banish memories made during her last visit. The prospect of speaking to someone, anyone, who didn’t tiptoe around her was a welcome one.
“Uhura here,” she said even before the image on the screen cleared.
“Greetings, ko-fu,” said Sarek.
“You should not call me that, Sa-mekh,” she told him, proud that her voice remained steady. “His first duty is to your people.”
Sarek could not agree. “A Vulcan’s first duty is to his family.”
Spock waited two days after meeting himself in a Starfleet hangar before seeking out his father. “I urge you to remain in Starfleet,” the elderly half-human had recommended. “Put aside logic. Do what feels right.” The advice of his elder self required reflection and meditation. Duty and desire both felt right.
“You will always be a child of two worlds.” His father’s only served to enhance his dilemma.
“I could not love you more than if you were Muta — that will not change no matter what path you choose.” Benjamin Uhura had given him permission to seek his own destiny.
“See? We’re getting to know each other!” The other Spock had predicted he and Kirk could someday share “a friendship that would define you both in ways you cannot yet realize” and the young captain-to-be seemed to believe this was possible, that they needed one another.
He found Sarek in one of the temporary quarters the Federation had granted the surviving members of the Vulcan High Council.
“Come in, sa-fu,” his father said as soon as the door slid open. “Please. Sit.” He indicated two chairs set across from each other.
“Spock, you are no longer a child I can mold into following the path I chose for you,” he continued before Spock spoke. “Although I told you that you must choose your own, the truth is, I influenced you to go where I wished you to go, to embrace that which I wished for you to embrace. And in all things, save one, you did as I asked.
“I knew, from the first time I met her, that Nyota Uhura was devoted to you. Although her youth and… another thing prevented me from approving of her as a mate, long before either of you knew it, in what humans would call ‘her heart,’ she was already your ko-kugalsu. Those days on your ship — after we lost our home and your mother — I saw that she was strong enough for that role.”
Visions of Sarek on the bridge, so often standing at Nyota’s side, flashed through Spock’s mind. He didn’t know what to say.
“You are not needed on the colony, sa-fu, although you are welcome. Your Nyota needs you — and, perhaps, your Starfleet does, as well. Perhaps it does not. If you choose to join to our people, if you decide that your path lies with helping us, you will do little good if you come to us without your heart and your soul intact. Do not leave half of it behind you.”
“That ‘other thing’ no longer matters?” Spock wanted to know. “You can accept what she is?”
“From the time of her last visit to our planet, your mother and I both called her ‘ko-fu’.”
He had not meant to wake her, but she stirred as he closed the french doors leading from the verandah to the small sleeping chamber they’d once shared.
“What are you doing here?” Nyota asked, her voice still slurred with sleep. He watched as she sat up, peering at him through the darkness.
“I believe I have something that belongs to you,” he whispered.
Kneeling at the end of the bed, Spock took her cool foot in one hand. Slipping the other into his pocket, he pulled out the short platinum chain whose Vulcan script spelled out S’chn T’gai El’es Khio’ri. Slipping it around her ankle, he fastened peridot star-shaped clasp and centered the vesuvianite apple.
Finis
Characters: Spock, Amanda, Uhura, multiple OCs
A/N: “Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people.”
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 )
( Read Ecc3:1-8 )
It was good to be home. She kept telling herself that even though the forced leave still rankled.
Death was a daily possibility for Starfleet members who served on starships. They were expected to do their duties, even after losing loved ones. That she had been sent home like a little girl more than a month after returning to Earth and completing her final year at the Academy seemed like an insult to her ability to do her job. But the admiral had left her without any say in the matter.
“Go grieve with people you love,” had been his parting words. “That’s an order!” His expression had softened before she could issue another protest. “None of us are expected to be superheroes, Lieutenant,” he’d said more gently. “You need this. And you’ve earned it.”
Tushah nash-veh k’du.
She had felt like the whole universe should have disappeared along with Vulcan, once she was free to think about it. She was grateful for what she still had, but heartache borne alone had turned out to be as close to unmanageable as anything she’d experienced in her short life.
Tushah nash-veh k’du.
But with only the faint sense of Spock’s shrouded presence in the back of her mind — neither had dared to suggest completely breaking the bond so close to his twenty-eight birthday — she felt as if she were alone.
Tushah nash-veh k’du.
Nyota’s feet found their way along the garden paths without permission — or even input, really — from her mind.
Tushah nash-veh k’du.
The scent of jasmine, blooming in the gathering darkness, beckoned her, but she turned away from the place Spock had made his and turned instead into the brick enclosure directly across from it.
Roses dominated Amanda Grayson’s garden in Garissa. It was a tiny reflection of the one she had nurtured on Vulcan. Nyota had often helped her father, or the woman he hired to help him, tend the space when Amanda hadn’t been there to do it herself. The young woman’s sense of loss swelled s she stood on the threshold of this space she now considered sacred.
A figure, dark silhouette against the fading light, caught her eye as she stepped through. The familiar outline of the tall form chased her breath away.
Tushah nash-veh k’du. She was not so alone, after all.
“Spock!” But this was not Spock, she noted as he turned to face her. And yet… “Who are you?” The question came as a breathless whisper. She stepped closer to the tall, elderly Vulcan whose broad shoulders and lithe form so closely resembled those of her sa-kugalsu.
He walked forward until they were nearly touching, his hand raised in the ta’al.
“I am Spock, Nyota.” His voice, so much more deeply resonant than the one she knew so well, though touched with age, was the fulfilled promise of Spock’s lighter tenor. “It is pleasing to see you again.”
Confusion warred with wonder. This couldn’t be her Spock. His mind, his body, his soul and his heart did not call to her. And yet, clearly, he was Spock. The same chocolate-colored that had so often stared down at her, full of every emotion from annoyance to passion now watched her with open affection and… wistfulness.
“What happened to you?” Nyota reached forward, two fingers extended, but hesitated. “What happened?” she repeated.
For a moment, she saw disappointment flash in his eyes, only to be instantly replaced by resignation then… nothing.
Gesturing to a stone bench set close to high brick wall, he said, “Come. Sit. I will explain.”
She walked over to the low seat and sat. He followed.
“I am not him,” he began. And then he told her a tale she had already begun to guess on her own.
“I don’t understand,” she said once he finished speaking. “Why didn’t you meet her before she was assigned to the Enterprise?”
“For many years, Nyota Uhura had been little more than a name to me: the daughter of a woman whom I greatly admired,” Ambassador Spock explained, “and of the man to whom I owe my life. One of three children who perhaps would never have been born had the head of my clan not been grateful for my existence.
“M’Umbha Uhura was granted a full ambassadorship and left Vulcan while she was pregnant with her son, Muta. Even then, she and her husband were loath to be separated unnecessarily and one of his cousins was enlisted to monitor my progress. From the time the Uhuras left my home planet, our families were in contact almost solely through subspace. By the time Nyota entered the Academy after completing a graduate degree in Nairobi, I had already been assigned to the Enterprise under Captain Pike. It was pleasing to learn my t’dahsu did not have to wait so long to meet the other half of his heart and soul.”
Tears threatened as Nyota watched this other version of her k’diwa look out across Amanda Grayson’s garden. His heart and mind did not call to hers, but she could Hear his grief when she Listened closely. Adding to his sorrow was the last thing she wanted, but Spock had always valued honesty.
She slid her hand along the cool stone until her fingers covered his, letting her shields drop as she made contact.
Startled, Spock’s gaze flew to hers as her own anguish flowed through the link.
“He changed his mind,” she whispered.
Christopher Pike glanced up at the hiss of his door. He opened his mouth, ready to protest whatever latest torture Starfleet Medical was about to inflict on him, but shut it with a snap when his first officer walked in instead.
He couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across his lips even as a voice in his head urged him to lob his pillow at the half-Vulcan.
The kid’s been through shit, Christopher told himself. He doesn’t need more of it from me.
But that didn’t stop the heavy weight of regret from settling in his stomach as he thought of Cadet — no, Lieutenant — Uhura. Just two days earlier girl had stormed into his hospital room ready to spit fire. But she’d looked worse than Spock did now by the time she’d calmed down enough to hear what Christopher had to say.
He waved his hesitant XO the rest of the way in. “Sit,” he ordered, pointing to the chair beside his bed. Spock complied, his tense posture the only indicator of his wary confusion until he said, “I am not certain I understand why you have called me here, Admiral.”
Pike nearly snorted at the title. Official word of his “promotion” hadn’t been released yet, but he wasn’t surprised that Spock was one of the very few who knew. Christopher wondered if Uhura had been the one to tell him. The idea made the fact that the Vulcan was playing stupid even more annoying.
To hell with his fragile feelings, the admiral thought.
“Don’t play dumb, Spock,” he said gruffly, a fierce scowl replacing the warm smile. “I told you you’ve got another cadet problem, and you’re here because I expect you to fix this one, too!”
Spock didn’t give an inch. Maintaining his perplexed expression, he steepled his hands and continued to gaze at Pike.
“Sir,” he said, “Lieutenants Uhura and Kirk have both already graduated. As they are the only ‘cadets’ with whom it has ever been suggested I might have had difficulties, I truly am at a loss as to your meaning.”
“Damn it, Spock!” Christopher levered himself into an upright position and adjusted the bed accordingly. He silently congratulated himself on the ease with which he had completed the maneuver, suddenly confident that he would be out of this bed in time for Kirk’s advancement ceremony the next month. “I mean the girl, and you know it!
“But it wouldn’t hurt you to consider making nice with Kirk, either,” he went on. “If you know they’ve given me the five bars, then you also must know they’re going to give him the Enterprise and, Heaven knows why, he’s set on having you as his number one.”
“That may be impossible, sir. My people now face extinction,” Spock replied. “I cannot ignore the likelihood that I will be called upon to help rebuild my race. Should that happen, I intend to resign my commission.”
“Fine! Go there for a little while, make a donation, and come back right away. Or, better yet, take Uhura with you. Command will grant you both the leave. Because I don’t see the reason in giving up a promising career in order to make a dubious — considering your heritage — genetic contribution.”
Spock winced, visibly, and Pike belatedly recalled something Uhura had revealed in the midst of their fraught conversation.
“They barely tolerated him because his mother was human,” she’d said bitterly. “They mocked him and taunted him, as when he was kid, they even fought with him. But now he’s prepared to give up everything for them. Don’t misunderstand me, sir. I know why he has to do this. I just—”
What she hadn’t been able to — or hadn’t allowed herself to — say was the reason he’d called Spock to his bedside. He started to apologize, to start over, but the young officer was already speaking.
“My parents received assistance from a geneticist after my conception. I am certain my father can engage the services of either the same person or those of someone similarly knowledgeable should my genes be deemed unacceptable to a potential mate,” he said, his voice stiff with the indignation he couldn’t quite conceal. “That aside, marriage is one area of Vulcan culture where we put aside logic to some extent. We are territorial about, and devoted to, our mates. There would be no simple way for me to ‘make a donation’ and then leave to continue my career.”
“If you’re so devoted to your mates, why aren’t you with your fiancée, helping her through the difficult time she’s having? And, if your mystery geneticist is so good, why can’t they make sure you and Uhura have Vulcan babies?”
“Lieutenant Uhura and I have already reached the conclusion that it may be necessary to set aside our betrothal.”
Christopher wasn’t satisfied with the half-answer and refused to be thwarted. He’d spent enough time with Spock to recognize when his friend was avoiding telling the truth.
“Why is that?”
“If we allow the betrothal to stand, she would likely be compelled to resign her commission as well. She has desired a Starfleet career for the past fourteen years, six months and thirteen days. I did not wish to ask her to give that up.”
That much was true, Christopher knew.
“Do you want to remain in Starfleet? Or did you only enlist to be near Spock?”
“I’ve wanted this I was five. Spock followed my dream.”
“Then you’d better remember how to follow orders. Go to Africa, Lieutenant.”
But the Vulcan’s reasoning wasn’t good enough to excuse a excellent communications specialist left too emotionally compromised to perform her duties to the full extent her abilities. It didn’t ease the permanent loss of stellar first officer.
“You haven’t broken the engagement yet, have you?” he tried. They hadn’t. That much he’d been able to wheedle out of the girl.
Spock looked as uncomfortable as Pike had ever seen him.
“We have not.”
“Then why aren’t you with her right now?” the admiral repeated.
“You ordered me to visit you, sir.”
“That’s not what I meant!” Christopher snapped. The challenge of matching wits with Spock had quickly lost its charm even for the convalescing — and extremely bored — former captain. He forced himself to calm down anyway. “Never mind. Answer this, Spock, why the hell did Lieutenant Uhura look as if her whole world had ended when she came to see me two days ago?”
Once she’d let go of her anger over his unexpected orders, the lieutenant had looked haggard, despondent… broken.
“I’m an officer of Starfleet.” But her voice had been weakened by the sorrow she was no longer attempting to hide.
The commander was quiet for so long, Pike began to wonder if he might refuse to answer.
“Nyota and my mother were extremely close,” came the eventual reply.
“Exactly!” How he managed to keep smug satisfaction out of his expression was anybody’s guess. “Which is why I ordered her back to Africa for a mandatory bereavement leave.”
“My father is here in San Francisco, consulting with the High Council as the Terran xenopsychiatrist most experienced in dealing with Vulcans,” she had protested.
“I know,” Christopher had responded. “I don’t care. I also know he goes home to your mother whenever he can. When he leaves again tomorrow, you’d better be on the shuttle with him. He’s expecting you.”
“She left yesterday and can’t come back for at least two weeks.”
The look of surprise on Spock’s face confirmed what Christopher already suspected. “Have you even seen her since you got back to Earth?”
“I have had many duties to attend to, both for Starfleet and for what remains of the Vulcan High Council.”
Pike grimaced. “So your answer is ‘no,’ I take it?”
“No, sir,” Spock admitted. “I have not seen her since we left the Enterprise.”
“Well, in that case, I think you’d better make sure you find your way to Africa. Soon.”
“Sir, I fail to see the benefit in—” Spock began to say.
With a speed that surprised even him, Pike reached behind him and grabbed his pillow. He was gratified to see the Vulcan didn’t have time to duck before his commanding officer brought it crashing down on his head.
Nyota let Benjamin Uhura enfold her in his strong arms as if she were still a little girl. She hugged back with all her strength, burying her face into his shoulder.
“I have to go back, Nyota Ndogo,” he whispered, regret coloring each word. “They have need of me.”
“I know,” she said and pulled away, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her tear-stained eyes. “I know, Baba. I’ll be back myself in a week or two. Have to be there when Kirk gets his three bars.”
She could Hear Baba’s disbelief in the smile, and tried to reassure him. “I’m a big girl. Don’t worry about me. Besides, Mama has shoulders, too.”
Benjamin grabbed her for another fierce hug before turning to offer his wife the same. “You make sure she cries on them,” he whispered in M’Umbha’s ear.
Spock stepped forward, and placed his hands on her shoulders. The lines of his face looked more pronounced as he assessed the young Nyota Uhura standing before him, a brave face doing little to mask her anguish.
“I would like to see you again before the launch,” he murmured. “Or, perhaps you will be able to visit the colony, should the Council approve of the planet I have selected.
“I would like that,” she told him, and this time her smile was real.
Spock wasn’t surprised when Benjamin Uhura approached him on the grounds of the Vulcan Embassy, parts of which closely resembled the gardens in Garissa. It was more curious that the doctor had not sought him out sooner. They had both been busy over the past forty-three days, but his ko-kugalsu’s father had never before let a heavy schedule prevent him from initiating these private talks. Spock had been seeking solitude to contemplate — again — Admiral Pike’s order, but welcomed the older man’s company, nonetheless.
“M’Umbha and I were forbidden to marry,” the doctor said without preamble, “and even after we eloped, our families expected us to remain childless.”
Spock turned his head study Benjamin’s profile, but said nothing. This would be a serious discussion, then; that much was apparent.
“We had assistance, of course,” Nyota’s father continued. “At the time, I didn’t think of that. Neither did my wife. We were young, in love and still believed we could defy the world.” He smiled at the memory of the young man he had been, but his companion detected something like old fear — possibly even regret — in the set of man’s shoulders. “We didn’t question how we were able to get away with it, how the paperwork was pushed through.”
Spock stopped walking when Benjamin came to an abrupt halt and faced him.
“Surely Nyota told you some of what the Wakufunzi are before you were bonded.”
A quiet nod was all the confirmation he required.
“Then you must know that M’Umbha’s family — or mine, even — could have stopped us any time they wished. But, as I said, we had assistance. From someone more important than the Uhuras… and more powerful than the Wakufunzis.
“Without that person, it is almost certain that Nyota would never have been born. There are likely some who continue to believe she never should have been, that the risk of exposure is still too great.
“But then, there was you. And she loved you and you loved her and M’Umbha and I believed we could hide behind that if the need arose. Little risk of exposure if she became fully bonded to a Vulcan.”
“Exposure?” Spock’s left eyebrow rose, illustrating his perplexity. “You have used the word twice. What is this secret you needed to keep hidden?”
Benjamin resumed his leisurely pace. Spock clasped his wrist behind his back and followed suit.
“Have you ever wondered why, or how the Uhuras became such efficient warriors? Or why so many of those warriors also became doctors?”
The young Vulcan’s silence spurred Benjamin to continue.
“We were aided in those early endeavors, Spock,” he explained somberly. “And our benefactors were welcomed into the family. They became one with us, teaching us how to fight, and, later, when only surgery and… other methods could conceal the ways in which they changed who we were, we we learned to conceal that, as well.”
“What are you trying to tell me?” Had he been fully human, he might have admitted that his ko-kugalsu’s father was frightening him.
“Mwana, I could not love you more if you were Muta — that will not change no matter what path you choose — but some might consider your father’s people and those of my many-times-great-grandfather to be enemies.
“They called themselves ‘chi’Thaai Veothai,’ and while they did not revere Surak, they believed many of his teachings were correct and would ultimately become necessary to the survival of their people. As you can imagine, this did not endear them to the Empire.”
Spock had stilled at the Romulan words Benjamin used to name his ancestors. He searched himself for the blinding hatred he’d held for Nero, but found only curiosity in its place. “Logic’s Children?” he translated.
“Yes, though we say ‘Children of Reason’ on the rare occasions we refer to ourselves in Standard.”
Benjamin’s burden was suddenly clear in Spock’s mind. He did not waste time analyzing the possible implications to his betrothal bond with Nyota; Benjamin was hurting, and he had learned to admit — to himself, at least — that this man was as important to him as his own father.
“That is why Nyota speaks all of their dialects.”
“Young Uhuras begin learning the language of the chi’Thaai Veothai even before they speak Standard. Because my wife is bint Wakufunzi, my children’s progress was accelerated. Our Little Star’s even more so than that of her siblings.”
“She does not know of this, does she?”
“I have not told her,” the human confessed, “If I had, I do not doubt she would have told you before your minds were first joined.”
“Undoubtedly.” Spock’s nod was as curt as his response. Unbidden, the memory of a day spent working alongside this man in a garden in Garissa came. “Your initial medical training — it was not completed at a traditional institution, was it?” he asked.
Benjamin’s eyes found his, surprise conspicuously absent. “No. I learned from Uhuras that came before me.”
“And, although you said you specialized in pediatrics,” Spock continued, “it would not be inaccurate to suppose your concentration was in genetics, would it?”
The older man’s expression was thoughtful, his gentle face settling into its customary placidity. “It would not,” he allowed.
“Baba…” Spock hesitated, still too unused to the swell of emotion he allowed to flow more freely than usual to care that he’d called the doctor “father.”
He was almost certain that his newest suspicion was accurate, but was unsure how to ask the question. If Benjamin Uhura had intended to broach the subject, he would have done so already. And he would not have held on to the secret without reason. But Spock wanted to know.
“Baba,” he began again. “Are you the geneticist who assisted my parents after my conception? Were you the one who saved my life?”
The human’s silence spoke volumes. It was not enough.
“Baba?” Spock’s eyes bore into his would-be father-in-law’s as the silence stretched out between them.
Resigned, Benjamin answered at last. “Yes.”
As one, they turned and sat on a stone bench that was much like the ones Benjamin kept in his own gardens.
“And now that you know?” Benjamin shifted uncomfortably. Spock had never before seen his ko-kugalsu’s father so ill-at-ease. “Will she know through your bond?”
“It is her right to know this,” the Vulcan pointed out. “It is her heritage. But the bond is… cloaked, and she will not know unless I tell her. And I will not do so unless you wish me to.”
His movements slow and less precise than was customary, Benjamin stood and began walking down the path again.
“She should know,” he conceded. “It is her right — Upenda and Muta are already aware of their history, and their genes are more easily explained than hers. She should know. And perhaps she already does.” He did not explain his allusion and Spock chose not to question it. “Whether you or I tell her…,” Benjamin went on, “I leave that choice to you, mwana.”
“I am going to Garissa in three days,” said Spock.
“Yes. I know.”
Her personal comm chimed when she was alone in the little room that had been hers since she was tiny. She lay on her bed as she had each night since her return, trying in vain to banish memories made during her last visit. The prospect of speaking to someone, anyone, who didn’t tiptoe around her was a welcome one.
“Uhura here,” she said even before the image on the screen cleared.
“Greetings, ko-fu,” said Sarek.
“You should not call me that, Sa-mekh,” she told him, proud that her voice remained steady. “His first duty is to your people.”
Sarek could not agree. “A Vulcan’s first duty is to his family.”
Spock waited two days after meeting himself in a Starfleet hangar before seeking out his father. “I urge you to remain in Starfleet,” the elderly half-human had recommended. “Put aside logic. Do what feels right.” The advice of his elder self required reflection and meditation. Duty and desire both felt right.
“You will always be a child of two worlds.” His father’s only served to enhance his dilemma.
“I could not love you more than if you were Muta — that will not change no matter what path you choose.” Benjamin Uhura had given him permission to seek his own destiny.
“See? We’re getting to know each other!” The other Spock had predicted he and Kirk could someday share “a friendship that would define you both in ways you cannot yet realize” and the young captain-to-be seemed to believe this was possible, that they needed one another.
He found Sarek in one of the temporary quarters the Federation had granted the surviving members of the Vulcan High Council.
“Come in, sa-fu,” his father said as soon as the door slid open. “Please. Sit.” He indicated two chairs set across from each other.
“Spock, you are no longer a child I can mold into following the path I chose for you,” he continued before Spock spoke. “Although I told you that you must choose your own, the truth is, I influenced you to go where I wished you to go, to embrace that which I wished for you to embrace. And in all things, save one, you did as I asked.
“I knew, from the first time I met her, that Nyota Uhura was devoted to you. Although her youth and… another thing prevented me from approving of her as a mate, long before either of you knew it, in what humans would call ‘her heart,’ she was already your ko-kugalsu. Those days on your ship — after we lost our home and your mother — I saw that she was strong enough for that role.”
Visions of Sarek on the bridge, so often standing at Nyota’s side, flashed through Spock’s mind. He didn’t know what to say.
“You are not needed on the colony, sa-fu, although you are welcome. Your Nyota needs you — and, perhaps, your Starfleet does, as well. Perhaps it does not. If you choose to join to our people, if you decide that your path lies with helping us, you will do little good if you come to us without your heart and your soul intact. Do not leave half of it behind you.”
“That ‘other thing’ no longer matters?” Spock wanted to know. “You can accept what she is?”
“From the time of her last visit to our planet, your mother and I both called her ‘ko-fu’.”
He had not meant to wake her, but she stirred as he closed the french doors leading from the verandah to the small sleeping chamber they’d once shared.
“What are you doing here?” Nyota asked, her voice still slurred with sleep. He watched as she sat up, peering at him through the darkness.
“I believe I have something that belongs to you,” he whispered.
Kneeling at the end of the bed, Spock took her cool foot in one hand. Slipping the other into his pocket, he pulled out the short platinum chain whose Vulcan script spelled out S’chn T’gai El’es Khio’ri. Slipping it around her ankle, he fastened peridot star-shaped clasp and centered the vesuvianite apple.
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