The Kish'tel, Chapter Two
Mar. 5th, 2011 10:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teaoliTitle: The Kish'tel: Easier Said Than Done
Recognizing a kindred spirit, a young Starfleet officer ends up mentoring an even younger cadet. But there are two sides to every story, and sometimes misunderstandings are inevitable. Light humor.
Author:teaoli
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters: Spock, Uhura, Pike, Enterprise ensemble in cameos, OCs
( Easier Said Than Done )
Uhura was fuming again by the time she made her way to Lieutenant Spock’s office the next day. How dared he embarrass her like that in front of her fellow cadets? It had been almost as bad as her first school on Vulcan.
Unlike other Vulcan learning institutions for children, Number Thirteen in Shi’Kahr had teachers interacting with students for all lessons. Unfortunately, that also meant that students were able to interact with each other all day long. She had not been popular amongst her fellow pupils there, either.
Things weren’t too bad when she’d first entered the school. She had been three and the only thing the other kids had teased her about was her Terran lack of physical strength. Years had passed before they’d started comparing her to “Ambassador Sarek’s half-breed bastard.”
Back then, she hadn’t believed in the rumors about his lack of emotional control. After the previous morning’s class, though, she regretted ever having stepped up to defend his honor.
“Over-grown elf!” she muttered aloud. Before she knew it, she’d stormed right past his closed office door.
Uhura took a deep breath and fell inside herself until she felt anger and annoyance draining away. Then, schooling her face into a passable facsimile of Vulcan decorum, she went back the way she’d come and rang the chime.
__________
The problem quickly became clear once Lieutenant Spock found an opportunity to investigate.
The scheduling apparatus, designed to choose for cadets who had been remiss in making choices for themselves, had taken the “Introduction” and the “Vulcan” from the title of the elective seminar, correlated that with Cadet Uhura’s status as a first-year and determined that “Elementary Vulcan” was a suitable alternative. It would have been, in the absence of the cadet’s extenuating circumstances, an entirely logical conclusion.
“Why did Commander Barnes require that I approve your course change?” he asked as he called up the unofficial history her advisor had sent. “Even when the scheduling program malfunctions, making changes is usually a simple matter, easily handled by academic advisors.”
“It is simple for those who have completed the prerequisites of their chosen alternates,” she countered.
“What was your chosen alternate?”
“I had none.”
Spock started to wonder if he had misjudged the young woman. Perhaps she hadn’t been misplaced while attending the remedial school on Vulcan. Or, perhaps — another flare of irritation accompanied the thought — she was attempting to exasperate him. She wouldn’t be the first person from his homeworld to attempt eliciting an emotional response from him.
He looked up from her student history and asked a reasonable question. “Why did you not choose an alternate course as is usually required for seminars taught by visiting faculty?”
“I was only allowed into Doctor Tevek’s seminar on his recommendation,” she told him. “As I had not fulfilled the prerequisites for any of the other courses I might have chosen, I chose none.”
“That was unwise,” Spock stated baldly. And illustrative of the way the Academy handled those unfamiliar with the Terran education system, he thought bitterly.
Unsurprisingly, the cadet remained resolutely closed-mouthed, and the lieutenant went back to perusing her records and comparing it to the Academy class catalogue.
Four point seven minutes later, Spock looked up to observe his still-silent student. She sat as immobile as she was quiet. Her back was straight and her dark eyes, framed by partially lowered lashes, did not blink.
“Cadet,” he said at last, “while specialized language courses are readily available at the Diplomatische Akademie der Vereinigte Föderation der Planeten, such classes are seldom taught here. Starfleet Academy currently offers no courses in Vulcan suited to your current needs and abilities.”
“I am aware of that, Savensu,” was all she said, but Spock didn’t miss the tremor in her voice. The sense that she was a kindred spirit emerged again. This time, he let it wash over him.
At one time he had been in a position similar to hers: newly arrived on a strange planet where many expected him to feel at home. It was only logical that he be the one to assist her.
“If you wish to continue your studies of High Vulcan, I can be of some assistance,” he told her. “While I cannot arrange for you to take a course at the DAV, I believe I can convince the Dean of Xenolinguistics and Commander Barnes to allow you to act as my teaching assistant for this class. Your course load is not unduly heavy and your duties for me would be light. In exchange, I am willing to tutor you during whatever time you have not committed to your required studies.”
She did not answer right away, instead tilting her head in a manner that indicated she was taking time to carefully consider his offer. It was, he decided, a point in the cadet’s favor that she should possible merits of the arrangement against her ability to complete the duties it would require. After one point seven minutes had passed, however, she straightened again, nodded once and said, “That would be agreeable, Savensu.”
They were fortunate in that no students from any of his other classes arrived to take advantage of his scheduled office hours — although he hoped this would not prove to be a sign of their lack of commitment — and were able to spend the next fifty-three minutes devising the particulars of her assistantship and tutorial, and then choosing and procuring the texts he thought would best suit the method of instruction. Long before Cadet Uhura slid her PADD into her satchel and stood in preparation to take her leave, Spock was satisfied that she would, in spite of her youth, not only be a competent assistant, but also an assiduously dedicated student.
At the end of the session, he reached out to shake her hand at the same moment she raised it in the ta’al. He kept his own hand extended, eschewing the standard Vulcan gesture. After only four seconds’ hesitation, her brow furrowed and she placed her small hand in hiss.
Yes, he told himself once the cadet had gone to her next class, it is only logical that I assist my assistant in reaching a better understanding reaching a better understanding of how her people are expected to conduct themselves.
Never having ascribed to the notion that one should in hesitate to take action once a firm decision had been made, immediately after his evening meditation, Spock sent a request to Cadet Uhura’s advisor. Needless to say, he rarely made a final determination without carefully weighing the pros, cons and innumerable possible outcomes of his choice. With that kind of assured confidence guiding him, he arranged to meet with Commander Barnes as soon as they were both free. It was most fortunate that her reply message indicated her availability in the early morning of the second day of classes.
__________
When she agreed to see Lieutenant Spock, Tala Barnes fully expected to hear the instructor’s version of what Nyota Uhura had described as a disastrous and humiliating first meeting. She thought he would take issue with his erstwhile student’s irritating habit of disguising deliberate reticence as Vulcan decorum. And while she accepted that she would have to acknowledge that the girl was both headstrong and unusually ambitious, Tala was prepared to defend her young charge.
Finding that she wouldn’t get a chance to do either — that neither was necessary — was… disconcerting. So her lapse in protocol, not to mention good manners, was somewhat understandable. That’s what she told herself later, anyway.
At first, she could only stare, utterly speechless, at the Vulcan sitting across her. Clearly, something was terribly wrong.
“Forgive me if my question is unpardonably intrusive, Lieutenant, but when was the last time you meditated?” she asked when she finally found her voice.
Spock’s quizzical head-tilt seemed normal enough, but…
“This morning, Commander. Why do you ask?”
Tala twitched her antennae, seeking out the changes in air pressure and [blank] that would suggest the young man wasn’t as in control of his emotions as a properly brought up Vulcan should be. Nothing. He was breathing perfectly normally. There was only the usual temperature to be expected when a Vulcan was sitting in an enclosed space.
Internally, she borrowed a phrase from her husband, Frank: What the hell could he be thinking? Aloud she said, “You just told me you wish to be Cadet Uhura’s mentor. You made this decision after meeting her only once. And after refusing, prior to today, to take on protégées throughout your Starfleet career.”
Spock continued to stare at her — not impolitely — but still without speaking. That’s right, she reminded herself, Vulcan.
“Lieutenant,” Barnes began again, “why are you asking to take over as the cadet’s advisor?”
That, at least, caused a tiny fissure in the mask. He straightened his neck as a look of comprehension reordered his features.
His actual words had been, “I would like to, as the Terran saying goes, ‘take her under my wing’ and ensure she does not encounter the same difficulties I did.” But Tala — linguist though she was — wasn’t one to quibble over words in strange situations.
Apparently, the lieutenant was.
“I have no desire to usurp your role in Cadet Uhura’s academic career,” he told her. “I merely hope to afford her with insights only a fellow offworlder who came to this planet as an adolescent can provide.”
The commander’s antennae twitched again, just in case she’d missed something the first go round.
“Lieutenant,” she said after getting the same results, “you do realize Cadet Uhura is essentially a Terran human? Although she was born offworld, her parents are from here.”
“Of course I do,” he said and for a moment, she feared he wasn’t going to elaborate. That this interview would stretch on and on as she was forced to apply direct inquiry after direct inquiry just to get the Vulcan to start making some semblance of sense. But Spock must have recognized her growing frustration because after only a few seconds of silence he added, “However, as she spent the majority of her childhood on Vulcan, and the balance on Andoria, it stands to reason that her knowledge of Terran social practices might be limited to what she was able to glean from members of the Diplomatic Corps and from the seven visits to Earth she made over the course of that time.”
Tala was speechless again. She’d known Nyota Uhura since she was babe in M’Umbha Uhura’s very efficient arms. The young woman was anything but poorly socialized — in most aspects.
“Well, it’s true she hasn’t had much opportunity to spend time with many humans close to her own age,” she found herself telling him. No need to point out that Upenda and Muta Uhura had been more than enough of an introduction to normal behavior in human teenagers. The exploits Nyota’s older siblings had gotten away with had made them minor legends among members of the Diplomatic Corps.
Still, if this Vulcan thought he could further the girl’s education... Commander Barnes shook her head at the thought.
“Lieutenant, are you suggesting that you are capable of helping Cadet Uhura learn to ‘fit in’ at the Academy.”
“I am not merely suggesting, Commander. I am confident that under my tutelage, the cadet can avoid many of the pitfalls that made my own acclimation… difficult.” He held her skeptical gaze for a long time before adding, “While I do not completely understand the nature of human emotion, I do know that refusing to acknowledge hers could be detrimental to Cadet Uhura. I shall endeavor to help her avoid such a fate.”
Then again… Tala made an executive decision. One she was certain her friend’s (at times pigheaded) daughter would thank her for. Some day.
“I think that is an excellent idea, Lieutenant Spock,” she said. “I’ll get started on the paperwork straight away.”
__________
“He wants to what? Why would he want to do that?”
The Andorian adopted what Uhura privately thought of as her “forced patience” face. She’d been the object of the expression often enough to realize she was in for a lecture. Straightening in her seat, she braced herself for it.
“Cadet Uhura…”
The formal address was telling. I’m in for it now, Uhura realized, and resigned herself to her fate.
“Lieutenant Spock is one of the Academy’s most distinguished graduates,” the commander continued. “Like you, he entered at an early age — seventeen in his case — and in less than three years, he completed four degrees.
“Since then, in spite of the encouragement of his superior officers, as well as certain persons rather highly situated in Command, he has never taken on a protégée.” She leaned back in her back in her chair, allowing her stern face to fall into a full frown. “Apparently, something about you and your record made him decide that you are worthy of the position. Most cadets would be honored to be given this chance.”
Uhura had known Tala Barnes her whole life. Her advisor was one of the few beings in the universe with whom she felt comfortable letting down her guard. A fact that didn’t always server her well.
“Most cadets probably have not been the victims of his mocking,” she retorted obstinately.
Tala’s antennae twitched. “Oh?” she asked.
Damn. Realizing she’d gone too far, Uhura quickly searched for a way to appease her advisor. There really wasn’t one, she decided. Other than the raw, emotional truth. As much as the idea appalled her, she knew there was no other option.
“He was laughing at me, Tal—Commander,” Uhura stated firmly, though she was staring down at her feet. They didn’t quite reach the floor. Her shoulders slumped as she deflated. “It’s just like they used to say at school. He cannot control his emotions and he mocked me for my deficiencies.”
Tala sighed. She knew what it must have cost Nyota to admit to the hurt feelings. She knew the girl would just as soon not admit to having feelings at all. The mentorship with the half-Vulcan was sounding better every second. It should prove to be something of an eye-opener for both the cadet and the lieutenant.
Still, she had to be sure. She owed M’Umbha — she owed Nyota — that much, at least.
“On what are you basing that assertion, Cadet?” She knew she’d come off sounding gruff and official, but reminded herself it was all for her young friend’s benefit.
Looking up, Uhura steeled her spine again. “I could tell, Commander. He asked me about Thirteen and—”
“Nyota.” Tala’s voice was considerably softer as she cut her off, but Uhura wasn’t taking any chances.
“Yes, Commander?”
“Did Lieutenant Spock ask you about School Thirteen specifically, or did you tell him about it?”
~
For a moment, Nyota looked confused. Tala relaxed. It wasn’t an expression that often crossed the young woman’s face.
“I told him,” she admitted eventually. “But I am certain he must have known. It felt like…” She blushed as she forced herself to forge on. “It felt like he already knew me, Tally.”
Commander Barnes leaned forward again and smiled. Yes, she thought, the Vulcan is exactly what Ennie needs right now.
But when she spoke aloud, she addressed a student, and not a family friend. “Apparently, the lieutenant is of a similar opinion,” she said. “He does not, however, view the connection with the same negative connotation you have attached to it.”
Nyota slumped again, her petit frame looking even smaller than usual. Tala decided a little relenting wouldn’t be undue.
“Give him a chance, Ennie,” she cajoled. “He just wants to help. Why don’t you look at it this way: he’s a scientist, and you are an enigma he wants to study.”
“You mean I’m an anomaly he wants to repair.” Nyota’s tone had become petulant again, but Tala could see her analogy had piqued the girl’s interest.
“Will you accept his mentorship?”
The cadet sucked in a deep breath and straightened her back. “I suppose I should at least give him the benefit of the doubt,” she conceded.
Tala hid another smile.
Recognizing a kindred spirit, a young Starfleet officer ends up mentoring an even younger cadet. But there are two sides to every story, and sometimes misunderstandings are inevitable. Light humor.
Author:
teaoliFandom: Star Trek XI
Characters: Spock, Uhura, Pike, Enterprise ensemble in cameos, OCs
( Easier Said Than Done )
Uhura was fuming again by the time she made her way to Lieutenant Spock’s office the next day. How dared he embarrass her like that in front of her fellow cadets? It had been almost as bad as her first school on Vulcan.
Unlike other Vulcan learning institutions for children, Number Thirteen in Shi’Kahr had teachers interacting with students for all lessons. Unfortunately, that also meant that students were able to interact with each other all day long. She had not been popular amongst her fellow pupils there, either.
Things weren’t too bad when she’d first entered the school. She had been three and the only thing the other kids had teased her about was her Terran lack of physical strength. Years had passed before they’d started comparing her to “Ambassador Sarek’s half-breed bastard.”
Back then, she hadn’t believed in the rumors about his lack of emotional control. After the previous morning’s class, though, she regretted ever having stepped up to defend his honor.
“Over-grown elf!” she muttered aloud. Before she knew it, she’d stormed right past his closed office door.
Uhura took a deep breath and fell inside herself until she felt anger and annoyance draining away. Then, schooling her face into a passable facsimile of Vulcan decorum, she went back the way she’d come and rang the chime.
The problem quickly became clear once Lieutenant Spock found an opportunity to investigate.
The scheduling apparatus, designed to choose for cadets who had been remiss in making choices for themselves, had taken the “Introduction” and the “Vulcan” from the title of the elective seminar, correlated that with Cadet Uhura’s status as a first-year and determined that “Elementary Vulcan” was a suitable alternative. It would have been, in the absence of the cadet’s extenuating circumstances, an entirely logical conclusion.
“Why did Commander Barnes require that I approve your course change?” he asked as he called up the unofficial history her advisor had sent. “Even when the scheduling program malfunctions, making changes is usually a simple matter, easily handled by academic advisors.”
“It is simple for those who have completed the prerequisites of their chosen alternates,” she countered.
“What was your chosen alternate?”
“I had none.”
Spock started to wonder if he had misjudged the young woman. Perhaps she hadn’t been misplaced while attending the remedial school on Vulcan. Or, perhaps — another flare of irritation accompanied the thought — she was attempting to exasperate him. She wouldn’t be the first person from his homeworld to attempt eliciting an emotional response from him.
He looked up from her student history and asked a reasonable question. “Why did you not choose an alternate course as is usually required for seminars taught by visiting faculty?”
“I was only allowed into Doctor Tevek’s seminar on his recommendation,” she told him. “As I had not fulfilled the prerequisites for any of the other courses I might have chosen, I chose none.”
“That was unwise,” Spock stated baldly. And illustrative of the way the Academy handled those unfamiliar with the Terran education system, he thought bitterly.
Unsurprisingly, the cadet remained resolutely closed-mouthed, and the lieutenant went back to perusing her records and comparing it to the Academy class catalogue.
Four point seven minutes later, Spock looked up to observe his still-silent student. She sat as immobile as she was quiet. Her back was straight and her dark eyes, framed by partially lowered lashes, did not blink.
“Cadet,” he said at last, “while specialized language courses are readily available at the Diplomatische Akademie der Vereinigte Föderation der Planeten, such classes are seldom taught here. Starfleet Academy currently offers no courses in Vulcan suited to your current needs and abilities.”
“I am aware of that, Savensu,” was all she said, but Spock didn’t miss the tremor in her voice. The sense that she was a kindred spirit emerged again. This time, he let it wash over him.
At one time he had been in a position similar to hers: newly arrived on a strange planet where many expected him to feel at home. It was only logical that he be the one to assist her.
“If you wish to continue your studies of High Vulcan, I can be of some assistance,” he told her. “While I cannot arrange for you to take a course at the DAV, I believe I can convince the Dean of Xenolinguistics and Commander Barnes to allow you to act as my teaching assistant for this class. Your course load is not unduly heavy and your duties for me would be light. In exchange, I am willing to tutor you during whatever time you have not committed to your required studies.”
She did not answer right away, instead tilting her head in a manner that indicated she was taking time to carefully consider his offer. It was, he decided, a point in the cadet’s favor that she should possible merits of the arrangement against her ability to complete the duties it would require. After one point seven minutes had passed, however, she straightened again, nodded once and said, “That would be agreeable, Savensu.”
They were fortunate in that no students from any of his other classes arrived to take advantage of his scheduled office hours — although he hoped this would not prove to be a sign of their lack of commitment — and were able to spend the next fifty-three minutes devising the particulars of her assistantship and tutorial, and then choosing and procuring the texts he thought would best suit the method of instruction. Long before Cadet Uhura slid her PADD into her satchel and stood in preparation to take her leave, Spock was satisfied that she would, in spite of her youth, not only be a competent assistant, but also an assiduously dedicated student.
At the end of the session, he reached out to shake her hand at the same moment she raised it in the ta’al. He kept his own hand extended, eschewing the standard Vulcan gesture. After only four seconds’ hesitation, her brow furrowed and she placed her small hand in hiss.
Yes, he told himself once the cadet had gone to her next class, it is only logical that I assist my assistant in reaching a better understanding reaching a better understanding of how her people are expected to conduct themselves.
Never having ascribed to the notion that one should in hesitate to take action once a firm decision had been made, immediately after his evening meditation, Spock sent a request to Cadet Uhura’s advisor. Needless to say, he rarely made a final determination without carefully weighing the pros, cons and innumerable possible outcomes of his choice. With that kind of assured confidence guiding him, he arranged to meet with Commander Barnes as soon as they were both free. It was most fortunate that her reply message indicated her availability in the early morning of the second day of classes.
When she agreed to see Lieutenant Spock, Tala Barnes fully expected to hear the instructor’s version of what Nyota Uhura had described as a disastrous and humiliating first meeting. She thought he would take issue with his erstwhile student’s irritating habit of disguising deliberate reticence as Vulcan decorum. And while she accepted that she would have to acknowledge that the girl was both headstrong and unusually ambitious, Tala was prepared to defend her young charge.
Finding that she wouldn’t get a chance to do either — that neither was necessary — was… disconcerting. So her lapse in protocol, not to mention good manners, was somewhat understandable. That’s what she told herself later, anyway.
At first, she could only stare, utterly speechless, at the Vulcan sitting across her. Clearly, something was terribly wrong.
“Forgive me if my question is unpardonably intrusive, Lieutenant, but when was the last time you meditated?” she asked when she finally found her voice.
Spock’s quizzical head-tilt seemed normal enough, but…
“This morning, Commander. Why do you ask?”
Tala twitched her antennae, seeking out the changes in air pressure and [blank] that would suggest the young man wasn’t as in control of his emotions as a properly brought up Vulcan should be. Nothing. He was breathing perfectly normally. There was only the usual temperature to be expected when a Vulcan was sitting in an enclosed space.
Internally, she borrowed a phrase from her husband, Frank: What the hell could he be thinking? Aloud she said, “You just told me you wish to be Cadet Uhura’s mentor. You made this decision after meeting her only once. And after refusing, prior to today, to take on protégées throughout your Starfleet career.”
Spock continued to stare at her — not impolitely — but still without speaking. That’s right, she reminded herself, Vulcan.
“Lieutenant,” Barnes began again, “why are you asking to take over as the cadet’s advisor?”
That, at least, caused a tiny fissure in the mask. He straightened his neck as a look of comprehension reordered his features.
His actual words had been, “I would like to, as the Terran saying goes, ‘take her under my wing’ and ensure she does not encounter the same difficulties I did.” But Tala — linguist though she was — wasn’t one to quibble over words in strange situations.
Apparently, the lieutenant was.
“I have no desire to usurp your role in Cadet Uhura’s academic career,” he told her. “I merely hope to afford her with insights only a fellow offworlder who came to this planet as an adolescent can provide.”
The commander’s antennae twitched again, just in case she’d missed something the first go round.
“Lieutenant,” she said after getting the same results, “you do realize Cadet Uhura is essentially a Terran human? Although she was born offworld, her parents are from here.”
“Of course I do,” he said and for a moment, she feared he wasn’t going to elaborate. That this interview would stretch on and on as she was forced to apply direct inquiry after direct inquiry just to get the Vulcan to start making some semblance of sense. But Spock must have recognized her growing frustration because after only a few seconds of silence he added, “However, as she spent the majority of her childhood on Vulcan, and the balance on Andoria, it stands to reason that her knowledge of Terran social practices might be limited to what she was able to glean from members of the Diplomatic Corps and from the seven visits to Earth she made over the course of that time.”
Tala was speechless again. She’d known Nyota Uhura since she was babe in M’Umbha Uhura’s very efficient arms. The young woman was anything but poorly socialized — in most aspects.
“Well, it’s true she hasn’t had much opportunity to spend time with many humans close to her own age,” she found herself telling him. No need to point out that Upenda and Muta Uhura had been more than enough of an introduction to normal behavior in human teenagers. The exploits Nyota’s older siblings had gotten away with had made them minor legends among members of the Diplomatic Corps.
Still, if this Vulcan thought he could further the girl’s education... Commander Barnes shook her head at the thought.
“Lieutenant, are you suggesting that you are capable of helping Cadet Uhura learn to ‘fit in’ at the Academy.”
“I am not merely suggesting, Commander. I am confident that under my tutelage, the cadet can avoid many of the pitfalls that made my own acclimation… difficult.” He held her skeptical gaze for a long time before adding, “While I do not completely understand the nature of human emotion, I do know that refusing to acknowledge hers could be detrimental to Cadet Uhura. I shall endeavor to help her avoid such a fate.”
Then again… Tala made an executive decision. One she was certain her friend’s (at times pigheaded) daughter would thank her for. Some day.
“I think that is an excellent idea, Lieutenant Spock,” she said. “I’ll get started on the paperwork straight away.”
“He wants to what? Why would he want to do that?”
The Andorian adopted what Uhura privately thought of as her “forced patience” face. She’d been the object of the expression often enough to realize she was in for a lecture. Straightening in her seat, she braced herself for it.
“Cadet Uhura…”
The formal address was telling. I’m in for it now, Uhura realized, and resigned herself to her fate.
“Lieutenant Spock is one of the Academy’s most distinguished graduates,” the commander continued. “Like you, he entered at an early age — seventeen in his case — and in less than three years, he completed four degrees.
“Since then, in spite of the encouragement of his superior officers, as well as certain persons rather highly situated in Command, he has never taken on a protégée.” She leaned back in her back in her chair, allowing her stern face to fall into a full frown. “Apparently, something about you and your record made him decide that you are worthy of the position. Most cadets would be honored to be given this chance.”
Uhura had known Tala Barnes her whole life. Her advisor was one of the few beings in the universe with whom she felt comfortable letting down her guard. A fact that didn’t always server her well.
“Most cadets probably have not been the victims of his mocking,” she retorted obstinately.
Tala’s antennae twitched. “Oh?” she asked.
Damn. Realizing she’d gone too far, Uhura quickly searched for a way to appease her advisor. There really wasn’t one, she decided. Other than the raw, emotional truth. As much as the idea appalled her, she knew there was no other option.
“He was laughing at me, Tal—Commander,” Uhura stated firmly, though she was staring down at her feet. They didn’t quite reach the floor. Her shoulders slumped as she deflated. “It’s just like they used to say at school. He cannot control his emotions and he mocked me for my deficiencies.”
Tala sighed. She knew what it must have cost Nyota to admit to the hurt feelings. She knew the girl would just as soon not admit to having feelings at all. The mentorship with the half-Vulcan was sounding better every second. It should prove to be something of an eye-opener for both the cadet and the lieutenant.
Still, she had to be sure. She owed M’Umbha — she owed Nyota — that much, at least.
“On what are you basing that assertion, Cadet?” She knew she’d come off sounding gruff and official, but reminded herself it was all for her young friend’s benefit.
Looking up, Uhura steeled her spine again. “I could tell, Commander. He asked me about Thirteen and—”
“Nyota.” Tala’s voice was considerably softer as she cut her off, but Uhura wasn’t taking any chances.
“Yes, Commander?”
“Did Lieutenant Spock ask you about School Thirteen specifically, or did you tell him about it?”
For a moment, Nyota looked confused. Tala relaxed. It wasn’t an expression that often crossed the young woman’s face.
“I told him,” she admitted eventually. “But I am certain he must have known. It felt like…” She blushed as she forced herself to forge on. “It felt like he already knew me, Tally.”
Commander Barnes leaned forward again and smiled. Yes, she thought, the Vulcan is exactly what Ennie needs right now.
But when she spoke aloud, she addressed a student, and not a family friend. “Apparently, the lieutenant is of a similar opinion,” she said. “He does not, however, view the connection with the same negative connotation you have attached to it.”
Nyota slumped again, her petit frame looking even smaller than usual. Tala decided a little relenting wouldn’t be undue.
“Give him a chance, Ennie,” she cajoled. “He just wants to help. Why don’t you look at it this way: he’s a scientist, and you are an enigma he wants to study.”
“You mean I’m an anomaly he wants to repair.” Nyota’s tone had become petulant again, but Tala could see her analogy had piqued the girl’s interest.
“Will you accept his mentorship?”
The cadet sucked in a deep breath and straightened her back. “I suppose I should at least give him the benefit of the doubt,” she conceded.
Tala hid another smile.
I stand well above And mould you with my clay Out of the depth, every soul can pay a fee Those who are kept I'm gonna set you free— from Shoulder Holster, Morcheeba
