The Pie: Chapter 2
Apr. 7th, 2010 10:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teaoliTitle: The Pie: Just the Facts, Ma'am
Characters: Spock, Chekov, Scotty, Uhura
Fandom: TOS
Genre: Total crack.
Summary: Spock likes pie.
( Read Chapter 1 )
Just the Facts, Ma'am
Spock glanced up from his inspection of the infant’s pointed pinnae just in time to catch the lieutenant in the act of taking the seat directly adjacent to the pie. He quickly considered possible diversionary tactics and utilized the first feasible feint he found.
“Superficial examination of the kan-bu,” he observed, “suggests that her genome is comprised of a combination of contributions from you and from me.”
“I thought Vulcans disdained stating the obvious,” she replied without moving away from the dessert.
“Am I to understand from that, and from your earlier exclamation, that this child is… ours?” he asked. “And that she was conceived under.. ordinary circumstances?”
“Didn’t I already say that?” She spun in her chair to glare at him again. But almost instantly, her expression softened and a smile with which he was becoming increasingly familiar spread across her features as her eyes lost focus. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call the situation normal, but if you’re asking if we had sex, the answer is ‘yes.’”
All too quickly, the smile was replaced with a grimace.
“I take it that you found the experience disagreeable.”
“You really don’t remember, do you?” she asked, her voice filled with wonder. As he desired a reversal of her previous pronouncement, Spock decided it was best not to be insulted by the implied disbelief. At the moment, the only think more tempting than the possibility of another glimpse at her delectable mocha-colored thasek-gonak was the similarly-hued delicacy sitting on the table.
“Ms. Uhura,” he stated, choosing his words carefully. “I apologize if my actions over the past… ”
“Six weeks,” she supplied.
“.. six weeks have in any way led you to believe that I am not worthy of trust,” he continued, rubbing slow circles on the child’s back. “I truly have little memory of my behavior and so am unable to unable to assure you that my intentions were benign. Now, however, I believe myself to be fully in control of all my faculties.
“If I caused you injury while my control was… inhibited, I will make appropriate reparations when we return to the Enterprise. And if I failed to perform adequa—”
“You performance was more than adequate, sir,” she hastily assured him. “And as I was, and remain, uninjured, no ‘reparations’ will be required if we return to the Enterprise.”
“If?”
“Mr. Spock,” she said slowly and calmly, as one might speak to a frightened child, “surely you do not believe we have remained here so long by choice.”
He knew that he should encourage her to continue speaking about their extended stay on the planet, but other subjects were more intriguing at the moment.
“While it is obvious that she is as much my offspring as your, Ms. Uhura, given her advanced stage of development, there is much about her — and about her conception — that I still wish to confirm with you.
“You have indicted that we have been on the Maytecin planet for six weeks, and yet our child appears to be the size of a three month old human infant, and has motor skills that rival those of a six-month-old. Determining the level of her verbal skills will require further observation, but she is clearly advanced.
“Enlighten me, please… when were you– when did I... ki’viyatal du?”
“Until a week ago, everything about T’Maurja’s gestation and growth had been accelerated, Mr. Spock,” she told him. “She is two weeks old. I was pregnant for three weeks.
“I don’t know exactly how all of this works — science is your specialty, not mine — but I think the Maytecis must be learning more about humans… and about Vulcans. I can tell you that her development has been slowing since last week.”
Three-score questions immediately formed themselves in Spock’s brain, but he realized the communications officer would likely be unable to answer even half of them. Perhaps she might inadvertently…
“Perhaps it would be best if you were to start from the beginning of the mission,” he suggested.
____________
“So, even though we were suspicious at first, in the end we had no choice but to eat what they gave us,” she concluded.
Lt. Uhura stretched, then sipped from a container of water. She had been speaking, with few pauses, for twenty-two minutes and eight seconds. He glanced over her shoulder to the table, where the last slice of pie remained untouched.
“You said that the confections produced with Theobroma theobromi theobromi do not have the same affect on Vulcan physiology as chocolate made from Theobroma cacao,” he pointed out, shifting the now-dozing baby higher up on his shoulder, “and yet you also say that your experience of ‘the best sex in the universe’ was a direct result of the food the Maytecis provided for our consumption. I fail to see how that is possible if—”
“It wasn’t the theobromatl that got you, Mr. Spock,” she broke in, glancing back at the slice of “it’s like chocolate to the third power!” pie. “They found weaknesses for all of us pretty quickly. For human women, that’s Maytecin theobromatl; for you it was the regular chocolate — from Theobroma cacao — that left you impaired enough to eat the pumpkin pie. Well, their version of pumpkin pie, anyway.”
Spock came very close to frowning upon learning yet another pie had been involved.
“Pumpkin pie, Lieutenant?”
“Oh yes, Mr. Spock. Pumpkin pie. Smelled like the real thing, too.” Her eyes lost focus again as she apparently became lost in the memory. “I wouldn’t know how it tasted, of course. You didn’t let Mr. Scott, Mr. Chekov or me have even one little bite!”
Spinning her chair around, she picked up an eating utensil and held it above the theobromatl pie. Spock surged to his feet. The kan-bu opened her eyes and smiled at him.
“Ms. Uhura,” he began, “pumpkin is not known to be detrimental the function of Vulcan physiology. It is, in fact, widely consumed on my planet.”
The communications officer sighed, lowered her fork and faced him again. “It wasn’t the pumpkin, Mr. Spock. It was the cinnamon. Lots and lots of cinnamon.”
A smile he could not quite interpret played at her full lips. “Lots and lots of cinnamon,” she repeated in a low murmur.
“I see,” said Spock. He and the child watched until Lt. Uhura appeared to recover herself and turned back to the last slice.
“If we were all to some degree adversely effected by the foods we have been given,” Spock called out quickly, “how can you be certain that I am your daughter’s father?”
Her reaction was instantaneous and quite satisfying. Her chair was sent skittering noisily across the floor as she gained her feet with a speed that approached the swiftness he had displayed moments before. When she whirled around to look at him, her face had lost none of its loveliness for all that it was contorted with pique and insult.
“You’re treading on dangerous ground, Mister,” she snarled. “Just look at that child’s ears!”
Spock had no need to do so, as he was — much to the child’s delight if the soft cooing sounds she was making were any indication — at that moment caressing the pointed tips.
“You are, of course, correct, Lieutenant. It is exceedingly unlikely that a union between you and Mr. Scott or between you and Mr. Chekov could have produced such aesthetically pleasing and intelligent offspring.”
“Baba,” said T’ T’Maurja, “ninakupenda sana.”
“And I you, ko-fu.” Spock said, delivering what passed for a doting smile to his daughter. The statement, he found, was entirely true. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away to look at an equally agreeable, but less somewhat less… moving, sight.
Go to Chapter 3
Characters: Spock, Chekov, Scotty, Uhura
Fandom: TOS
Genre: Total crack.
Summary: Spock likes pie.
( Read Chapter 1 )
Just the Facts, Ma'am
Spock glanced up from his inspection of the infant’s pointed pinnae just in time to catch the lieutenant in the act of taking the seat directly adjacent to the pie. He quickly considered possible diversionary tactics and utilized the first feasible feint he found.
“Superficial examination of the kan-bu,” he observed, “suggests that her genome is comprised of a combination of contributions from you and from me.”
“I thought Vulcans disdained stating the obvious,” she replied without moving away from the dessert.
“Am I to understand from that, and from your earlier exclamation, that this child is… ours?” he asked. “And that she was conceived under.. ordinary circumstances?”
“Didn’t I already say that?” She spun in her chair to glare at him again. But almost instantly, her expression softened and a smile with which he was becoming increasingly familiar spread across her features as her eyes lost focus. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call the situation normal, but if you’re asking if we had sex, the answer is ‘yes.’”
All too quickly, the smile was replaced with a grimace.
“I take it that you found the experience disagreeable.”
“You really don’t remember, do you?” she asked, her voice filled with wonder. As he desired a reversal of her previous pronouncement, Spock decided it was best not to be insulted by the implied disbelief. At the moment, the only think more tempting than the possibility of another glimpse at her delectable mocha-colored thasek-gonak was the similarly-hued delicacy sitting on the table.
“Ms. Uhura,” he stated, choosing his words carefully. “I apologize if my actions over the past… ”
“Six weeks,” she supplied.
“.. six weeks have in any way led you to believe that I am not worthy of trust,” he continued, rubbing slow circles on the child’s back. “I truly have little memory of my behavior and so am unable to unable to assure you that my intentions were benign. Now, however, I believe myself to be fully in control of all my faculties.
“If I caused you injury while my control was… inhibited, I will make appropriate reparations when we return to the Enterprise. And if I failed to perform adequa—”
“You performance was more than adequate, sir,” she hastily assured him. “And as I was, and remain, uninjured, no ‘reparations’ will be required if we return to the Enterprise.”
“If?”
“Mr. Spock,” she said slowly and calmly, as one might speak to a frightened child, “surely you do not believe we have remained here so long by choice.”
He knew that he should encourage her to continue speaking about their extended stay on the planet, but other subjects were more intriguing at the moment.
“While it is obvious that she is as much my offspring as your, Ms. Uhura, given her advanced stage of development, there is much about her — and about her conception — that I still wish to confirm with you.
“You have indicted that we have been on the Maytecin planet for six weeks, and yet our child appears to be the size of a three month old human infant, and has motor skills that rival those of a six-month-old. Determining the level of her verbal skills will require further observation, but she is clearly advanced.
“Enlighten me, please… when were you– when did I... ki’viyatal du?”
“Until a week ago, everything about T’Maurja’s gestation and growth had been accelerated, Mr. Spock,” she told him. “She is two weeks old. I was pregnant for three weeks.
“I don’t know exactly how all of this works — science is your specialty, not mine — but I think the Maytecis must be learning more about humans… and about Vulcans. I can tell you that her development has been slowing since last week.”
Three-score questions immediately formed themselves in Spock’s brain, but he realized the communications officer would likely be unable to answer even half of them. Perhaps she might inadvertently…
“Perhaps it would be best if you were to start from the beginning of the mission,” he suggested.
____________
“So, even though we were suspicious at first, in the end we had no choice but to eat what they gave us,” she concluded.
Lt. Uhura stretched, then sipped from a container of water. She had been speaking, with few pauses, for twenty-two minutes and eight seconds. He glanced over her shoulder to the table, where the last slice of pie remained untouched.
“You said that the confections produced with Theobroma theobromi theobromi do not have the same affect on Vulcan physiology as chocolate made from Theobroma cacao,” he pointed out, shifting the now-dozing baby higher up on his shoulder, “and yet you also say that your experience of ‘the best sex in the universe’ was a direct result of the food the Maytecis provided for our consumption. I fail to see how that is possible if—”
“It wasn’t the theobromatl that got you, Mr. Spock,” she broke in, glancing back at the slice of “it’s like chocolate to the third power!” pie. “They found weaknesses for all of us pretty quickly. For human women, that’s Maytecin theobromatl; for you it was the regular chocolate — from Theobroma cacao — that left you impaired enough to eat the pumpkin pie. Well, their version of pumpkin pie, anyway.”
Spock came very close to frowning upon learning yet another pie had been involved.
“Pumpkin pie, Lieutenant?”
“Oh yes, Mr. Spock. Pumpkin pie. Smelled like the real thing, too.” Her eyes lost focus again as she apparently became lost in the memory. “I wouldn’t know how it tasted, of course. You didn’t let Mr. Scott, Mr. Chekov or me have even one little bite!”
Spinning her chair around, she picked up an eating utensil and held it above the theobromatl pie. Spock surged to his feet. The kan-bu opened her eyes and smiled at him.
“Ms. Uhura,” he began, “pumpkin is not known to be detrimental the function of Vulcan physiology. It is, in fact, widely consumed on my planet.”
The communications officer sighed, lowered her fork and faced him again. “It wasn’t the pumpkin, Mr. Spock. It was the cinnamon. Lots and lots of cinnamon.”
A smile he could not quite interpret played at her full lips. “Lots and lots of cinnamon,” she repeated in a low murmur.
“I see,” said Spock. He and the child watched until Lt. Uhura appeared to recover herself and turned back to the last slice.
“If we were all to some degree adversely effected by the foods we have been given,” Spock called out quickly, “how can you be certain that I am your daughter’s father?”
Her reaction was instantaneous and quite satisfying. Her chair was sent skittering noisily across the floor as she gained her feet with a speed that approached the swiftness he had displayed moments before. When she whirled around to look at him, her face had lost none of its loveliness for all that it was contorted with pique and insult.
“You’re treading on dangerous ground, Mister,” she snarled. “Just look at that child’s ears!”
Spock had no need to do so, as he was — much to the child’s delight if the soft cooing sounds she was making were any indication — at that moment caressing the pointed tips.
“You are, of course, correct, Lieutenant. It is exceedingly unlikely that a union between you and Mr. Scott or between you and Mr. Chekov could have produced such aesthetically pleasing and intelligent offspring.”
“Baba,” said T’ T’Maurja, “ninakupenda sana.”
“And I you, ko-fu.” Spock said, delivering what passed for a doting smile to his daughter. The statement, he found, was entirely true. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away to look at an equally agreeable, but less somewhat less… moving, sight.
Go to Chapter 3
