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cwnannwn · 5 years

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Short analyzes of human wedding traditions c. 23th century

Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: T'Pring/Nyota Uhura Characters: T'Pring, Nyota Uhura Additional Tags: Alien Marriage Traditions, Friends and family being way too involved in the wedding, Wedding Fluff, Fluff Words: 1505 Summary: T'Pring's observations on her and Nyota's human wedding celebrations.

Written for the Just Married Exchange, it was a fun challenge to approach these two, since I hadn’t written for them yet.

What curious customs. That was the first, vague impression T'Pring had when Nyota explained what she wished to do for the human side of their wedding. Oaths to one another were perfectly logical, the presence of authority, even in the form of Captain Kirk's smiling face; was expected, friends and an abundance of food, these aspects were befitting of a wedding ritual.

Crewmen T'Pring had never interacted with grinning at her and congratulating her as if they were family, or the excited discussions of how to best prepare the after-party, felt strange to her. The occasional pat on the shoulder or half hug was somewhat discomfiting. The tradition of neither bride seeing the other before the wedding, in particular, even if they were already bonded, felt utterly illogical to her

But Nyota had stood in the sands of Vulcan, with Captain Kirk and Spock at her side, only smiling as T'Pring hang the gong, as the elder of T'Pring's clan confirmed their bond. A mating bond had began forming months before, the result of late shift conversations and the insistent pull T'Pring had felt towards her human beloved from the moment she had stepped into the Enterprise. Well, beamed into the Enterprise would be more accurate.

She had arrived as Spock's betrothed, there in part to strengthen their childhood bond, but both had know that would not happen. T'Pring resented that tenuous connection and what it had meant at the time, and how it could impact how seriously others took her assignment as the Enterprise's exo-biologist. Once on the starship, however, it had taken her seconds to realize Spock too had no desire to bond with her, his bond to their captain running so much deeper than any else could.

Once their mutual lack of interest in mating had been made clear, T'Pring quickly grew to see Spock as a friend, and their thin bond was unmade with no harm to the other. And it was him who first nudged T'Pring into accepting those nascent, illogical, even somewhat terrifying feelings for Nyota. For that, they both owned him much.

A light green blush spread over her cheeks, and T'Pring was glad to be alone for now, waiting for the commemoration to begin. Her pon farr had come far away from the sands of Vulcan, but she had yearned for Nyota, and her beloved had answered. The memories of that first physical union made T'Pring smile.

There was a matching feeling coming from that silvery thread T'Pring imagined their bond to look like, Nyota's amusement a ray of light, her excitement shining through all else. They would see each other in moments, but they had not stopped sharing this, their true self known to none other, for a moment.

In a gown of traditional Vulcan cut, hair high in twisted braids, T'Pring stepped through the doors to the common rest area, made into a makeshift isle. Crewmen lined the sides, her colleagues of the science department, all blue and a few gold who had interest in the area and often discussed matters with her to one side, a sea of red and more gold on the other. T'Pring could have taken a few observations over the possible anthropological reason for the divide, but her eyes landed on Nyota, and all else faded away.

She stood at the altar, resplendent in a yellow shoulderless dress, the grin on her face bringing a matching smile to T'Pring's carefully stoic face. Their friends and colleagues hollered and cheered as T'Pring walked towards Nyota, stopping in front of her. Hello beautiful, Nyota's words whispered in her mind as soon as their hands touched, only a light brush against T'Pring's knuckles, her shining dark eyes brimming with tears T'Pring now knew were born of happiness.

T'hy'la, that was all T'Pring could answer with, Vulcan composure almost failing her as her own and Nyota's feelings flooded her mind and heart. Captain Kirk, grinning much like a madman, took his post before them and called a beginning to the ceremony.

His speech must have been impressive, there was laughter and tears not long into it, and Spock had told her he had been preparing the words carefully for weeks now, but T'Pring did not hear a word of it, lost in Nyota's gaze.

There was a modification to the human tradition, as the ceremony neared its end and Kirk announced they may 'kiss the bride', Nyota raised her hand, extending two fingers. T'Pring did the same, touching her own to Nyota's. For a moment, that simple sign of affection was all there existed in T'Pring's world, their bond, their love all that she could feel. Then the room exploded in cheers again, almost making T'Pring jump. It was Nurse Chapel and Chief-Engineer Scott who cheered louder, or maybe they were just easier to distinguish.

A sudden mischievous impulse came to T'Pring, maybe an impulse left from her pre-Surak ancestors. Whenever it came from, she let it flow to Nyota, waiting her agreement or disagreement to the idea. Her beloved's eyes widened, and her answer came in the form of their hands clasping together, just as T'Pring leaned forward and met Nyota's lips in a fierce kiss. Later, when asked, T'Pring would say it was only logical, Nyota had followed all of T'Pring's culture wedding traditions, thus T'Pring should do the same for Nyota's human marriage traditions.

Vulcans did not lie, and that would not be a lie. Only not the whole reason for such a public display of intimacy, for the impulse that came over T'Pring in that moment had been to claim and be claimed, to show all present, in as clear a manner as possible, that she was Nyota's and Nyota was hers. Truly, it was no surprise her ancestors developed Koon-ut-kal-if-fee. Even outside her pon farr, in that moment, T'Pring was ready to fight any who would challenge their claim.

Luckily, no combat would be necessary. Their kiss had only caused louder cheers, and what sounded suspiciously like bets getting settled, before the after-party began. It turned into what T'Pring could only describe as a revelry.

The Enterprise had stopped at a Starbase to refuel not long ago, and it seemed their comrades had taken the opportunity to also stock up on enough alcohol to kill them all if needed. Chief-Engineer Scott had gathered a gaggle of younger engineers around him as he proclaimed the virtues of one kind of human beverage over all else.

"What do you think of our weddings, now we've done both of them," Nyota draped herself over T'Pring, arm around the tall Vulcan's shoulders, pressing her face against T'Pring's neck. A pleasant shiver ran through T'Pring's spine, an arm coming up to wrap around Nyota's waist and help her stand. Her mate was quite affected by the alcohol, much like the entirety of their ship's crew.

"I believe both ceremonies reflect well on our peoples' histories," T'Pring allowed a rare smirk to come over her features, knowing the effect it would have on Nyota, "but I dare say your human feast is closer to a barely controlled riot." There was a good chance, T'Pring was willing to bet, that either Doctor McCoy or Captain Kirk would soon lose at least their shirts. They were already drunkenly singing some form of sea shanty, badly adapted to the void of space instead of the ocean.

Nyota snorted in a very undignified but endearing fashion, her lips brushing T'Pring's neck, first accidentally, then deliberately. Maybe the human revelry was getting to her too. Shame she could not blame the drinks for her reactions like their friends would.

Nyota pulled away enough to see what the others were doing, her grin turning to full laughter. T'Pring hid her own smile against Nyota's black hair, emotion fit to burst inside her chest. She had half a mind to take her mate back to their quarters and consummate their bond for a third time in official capacity, but Nyota left her arms to join their Captain and Chief of Medicine on a truly horrendous rendition of Drunken Sailor.

"They will regret the drinking in a few hours." Spock had appeared at her elbow, hands behind his back and posture stiff. Even so, there was a small upturn to his lips, a sense of contentedness to him that T'Pring recognized with a start was present in her too.

A sense of comradeship was to be expected once one became part of a crew, but this? T'Pring could feel in the tips on her fingers how happy the entire ship was for her and Nyota, could feel every breath Nyota took like it came from her own chest.

Allowing a similar quasi-smile to grace her features, T'Pring agreed with a nod. Soon, she would guide Nyota to their rooms, make sure she had enough water in her, and let her sleep the worst of the night's effects off. But for now, she was content to watch the ways humans celebrated their friends' happiness.

#star trek #star trek the original series #star trek tos #T'pura #T'Pring/Uhura #I have no idea which tag is used more often #tos #so have all of them #my writing #star trek femslash

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v-thinks-on · 5 years

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tagged by: @wingittofreedom

I’ve never done one of these before! Thank you for tagging me! :D I like talking about my writing and am very indecisive, so this ended up a little longer than intended...

your name: My pen name is VTsuion (though for a little while I tried out Camille V. Watson when I thought I was going to be doing more original fiction). The V represents my real name and Tsuion is the last name that a friend suggested for my first OC way back in middle school, and somehow it just stuck.

fandoms you write for: These days, mostly Star Trek: The Original Series and the associated movies (sorry, no AOS), but my first love is the original Sherlock Holmes stories, and I will always come back to them. I’ve also been watching sports anime recently and am currently rewatching Kuroko’s Basketball, so there may be some of that brewing… Generally, anything I read/watch is fair game, but I do have favorites.

where you post: These days, mostly Archive of Our Own, Tumblr, of course, and I do still post on FanFiction.net, where my unpolished oldest writing lives.

most popular one shot: I wasn’t sure whether to measure popularity by hits or kudos, so I did both: the most viewed is A Hidden Personal Thing - Kirk and Spock mindmeld for the first time after “Dagger of the Mind” - and the most well-liked is The Language of Chess - Spock and Kirk flirt using the Vulcan language of chess.

most popular multi-chapter story: Murder and a Family Reunited - my ancient messy crossover between BBC’s Sherlock and Harry Potter - will probably always be my most well-read story by a long shot. Of the things I’ve written recently, For a Stranger - my first stab at Spock getting his memory back after “Search for Spock” - and A Prince Comes Upon a Tower in the Woods - Kirk is a prince who rescues Spock, a cursed knight, from a tower - are tied for most well-liked.

favorite story you’ve written: If I absolutely had to give one, I’d probably say Violin in the Middle of the Night - Watson wakes up from a nightmare to hear Holmes playing the violin - because it gave me a chance to do some pretty writing, and I think it works. I also think my silly crossovers - Spock in Wonderland, Millennium Deathnote (Yugioh and Death Note), and Stars (Star Trek vs. Star Wars) - deserve a shout-out just because they were so much fun to write.

story you were nervous to post: The story I’m most nervous to post is actually one I haven’t posted yet about Kirk and Spock undergoing pon farr together. No one actually has sex, but it has a lot of questionable consent just because of the nature of pon farr, and it’s the closest I get to addressing sex in any of my stories. I’m also not sure about the ending, so it may have to undergo some editing before I post it… Of my stories that are actually up, I was probably most nervous to post I-Chaya - pure Kirk/Spock fluff - because it was the first real fluff that I wrote. I was also a little nervous about Human, Vulcan, and Everything in Between because it reflects a headcanon that I have a lot of feelings about and isn’t very common (Spock is asexual, Kirk is polyamorous, and they make it work).

how do you choose titles: Sometimes the title will just come to me as part of the story. Otherwise, I try to take as much from the source material as I can, including titles, because I have a hard time coming up with additional details outside of the key premise of what I’m writing. I also like using song titles. If there isn’t anything obvious, I think of something, usually simple, short, and descriptive.

do you outline: On the bottom of the page, after all my longer stories, is an often multi-page outline detailing the planned events, character arcs, etc… Though things do often change as I write them.

how many of your stories are complete: 57 works are listed as complete on AO3, an additional 15 older stories have only been posted on FanFiction.net. I also have a significant backlog of 13 stories waiting to be posted, including the two that are coming out now (I don’t start posting anything until it’s completely done), plus one essay.

how many of your stories are in progress: I mostly just work on one story at a time, since otherwise I get overwhelmed by the amount of things I could be working on at any given moment. However, there are 8 more stories that I’ve started, but have been temporarily put on hold, not to mention all the stories in various stages of incompleteness that I don’t have any plans of getting back to (including 6 stories listed as in progress on FanFiction.net that were last updated before 2013). There are also 3 series of shorts that are essentially complete as they are, but that I could always add to. Really, most of my stories could gain an extra chapter/sequel if I thought of something or received a prompt for it.

coming soon: Since I post on a schedule with a backlog, I actually have things planned for months to come. One of the stories I’m currently posting, We Know That We Need, But Not What - Kirk and Spock sort out their relationship after The Motion Picture - has a sequel set on a planet with empathic plants which I’ll start posting pretty much as soon as the first installment is done (it’s already been written). My next major project, which I’m currently finishing up writing, is Generations - Kirk survives Star Trek: Generations, hangs out with the crew of The Next Generation, reunites with Spock, and makes a life for himself in the 24th century.

do you accept prompts: Yes! That’s actually one of the reasons I started this blog, though I’ve been keeping pretty busy with my own ideas. If there’s anything you want me to write, please send in an ask! Questions are also appreciated!

upcoming story you’re most excited to write: I’ve been a little bit all over the place lately. Until a few days ago, I was raring to get back to writing To the Stars and Back Again - Kirk is an astronaut, Spock is a NASA scientist, and they figure out romance amidst the space race in the 1960’s. But I’ve been rewatching Kuroko’s Basketball and I got a sudden urge to reread @umisabaku’s Designation: Miracle and after that I really want to write a short Midorima/Takao fic in that universe, so that’s what I’ve been thinking about for the past few days. There are also some Sherlock Holmes things that have been on my mind for a while that I’ll get to eventually...

tagging: @warpfactornonsense @plaidshirtjimkirk @umisabaku, and anyone else who has feelings about their writing!

#v was tagged #Asks!#v writes (kind of)

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doctortreklock · 5 years

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I’ll Sing While I Simmer - October 23, 2019

Part of my Resolution19. Read it on AO3.

Prompt: Asexual character (because it’s Asexual Awareness Week!)

Fandom: Star Trek AOS

Title: “Me-Stew” by Shel Silverstein

Words: 2330

Content Warning: Dubcon (see end notes for details)

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It turned out that when Spock had told Jim that Vulcans tended toward asexuality outside "mitigating factors," he'd been shifty-eyed for a reason.

"I am going to be generous right now and assume that there was a very good reason why you didn't tell me," Jim said, fighting to keep his voice steady.

And there were the shifty-eyes again, the only tell in Spock's otherwise perfectly Vulcan visage. "I can assure you--"

"Because to me," Jim continued, barreling on, "this seems like the kind of thing one might be expected to tell their partner."

"Jim--"

"Oh yes, dear," Jim mimed, "I'm terribly sorry, but I forgot to mention that I have to have sex every seven years. Guess it just slipped my mind." And there went all his calm veneer.

Spock's eyes were dark and perhaps a touch sympathetic. Jim felt a pang in his chest and crossed his arms against the sensation.

Off to the side of the exam room, Bones cleared his throat roughly. "I'm about three weeks behind on paperwork, so if either of you need me, I'll be in my office." The good doctor didn't flee, but it was near to. Jim envied him his quick escape from the fallout that was sure to ensue.

The door slid shut behind Bones and Spock took advantage of the brief lull to explain.

"Jim." He paused. "T'hy'la." Jim tried not to show how much he was melting around the edges at the familiar endearment. "As you know, I am not wholly Vulcan. There are no previous human-Vulcan hybrids to use as an example, and so it was unknown if I would be afflicted. It was postulated that I would be spared, as my mother's genetics run stronger in some specific strands." Spock's mouth twisted slightly and Jim knew he was thinking of Nero. "However, since the destruction of Vulcan-That-Was, there have been reports from the colony of individuals entering their Time prematurely, and so it seems that regardless of predictions, my Time is now upon me."

Well, Jim would say one thing about Vulcans - they never lacked drama.

He lifted one hand to rub at the side of his face and made a face at the rough stubble he found there. Just another reminder of the hellishly long day he was in that had started with a slightly snappish Spock and was now ending with a piece of very unwelcome news.

"Give it to me straight, Spock," Jim said, tired of the conversation already. "What are our options?"

"Are you asking as my captain or my beloved?" Spock asked without flinching. "Because the answers are quite different."

That didn't sound good. "Both."

"As my captain," Spock prefaced, then he squared his shoulders. "Captain, it is my estimation that given my current rate of deterioration, I will reach an inexcusable level of efficiency by approximately ship's noon, three days from now. It is my recommendation, then, that I be deemed medically unfit for duty at the end of alpha shift tomorrow. I would further recommend that Lieutenant Sanchez be promoted to Interim Science Officer in my stead and that her promotion be permanently secured upon my death. My position as First Officer--"

"Wait, wait, wait," Jim interrupted. "Hang on, go back." There was a cold panic creeping up his spine. "Your death?"

"Yes." Spock paused. Jim didn't say anything, panic sending his stomach swooping like the universe's most terrifying roller coaster. Spock continued. "If the urge to...couple is not sated, the plak tow, the blood fever, will set in. Unless satisfied, the fever will eventually lead to total system shutdown and my death."

Jim's mouth was dry. "Were you not going to mention that?" he croaked.

"I was," Spock said, shifting his weight slightly. "If you'll recall, I did say there were two different ways I could answer your question."

He was being evasive. Jim thought they were past that. "Spock," he said softly.

Spock looked at him, gaze softening. "Jim," he echoed. "On a personal note, I have few options. You are my beloved. I shall leave it to you to decide which course to take."

Jim opened his mouth to protest that this was unfair, that he shouldn't have that much power, that Spock shouldn't give him the responsibility for such an important decisions, but Spock simply held out two fingers in the ozh'esta, a Vulcan kiss, and he subsided, pressing his own fingers to Spock's in silent response.

Spock nodded as if there had been a decision made and lifted his eyes from their joined fingers to look at Jim again. "As my beloved. Jim, when I was young I was placed in a bond with T'Pring. This you know." Jim nodded. T'Pring and Uhura had been the only exes of note that the pair had. "This bond was intended to draw us together during my Time. Then, we would join and our bond would deepen." Jim couldn't suppress a frown at the idea. "Following the loss of Vulcan-That-Was, our preliminary bond was broken. T'Pring did not perish, but concluded that a bond with a full Vulcan was necessary for the propagation of my species." Jim's frown deepened. "Her logic was sound," Spock chided softly. "As a hybrid, I am by necessity sterile. There was no logic in remaining tied to me when there were others more suited to her own needs, just as you are more suited to mine." Jim's frown faded into a wry smile at the gentle reminder, accompanied by the subtle reassurance of Spock's fingers against his own.

"With T'Pring now bonded to another, there is no one set aside for me, no one waiting for me. Jim, please," Spock said when Jim opened his mouth to protest the last point. "I would ask that you allow me the courtesy to complete my thoughts and lay out my arguments."

Jim pursed his lips, but nodded. "Fine. But I reserve the right to ask an obnoxious number of questions afterwards."

A slight smile graced Spock's lips. "I would expect no less of you, t'hy'la." He pressed his fingers against Jim's for one last moment before pulling away and clasping his hands behind his back. Jim's fingers felt cold afterwards. "As I said, there is none set aside for me among my own people or elsewhere. My remaining options are limited. Those few Vulcans adept at kolinahr have been known to successfully dissipate the blood fever through meditation, though this method knows success only after the purging of all emotions. There were once rumors that physical exertion could disrupt the fever, but I do not know the specifics, and I fear those knowledgeable have perished on Vulcan-That-Was." Spock paused, and his face was the most perfect Vulcan mask Jim had seen on him yet. "The final option is the simplest. I do nothing, and the plak tow consumes me as it has Vulcans before me."

"Now you're just being ridiculous," Jim burst out. "There's no way that's going to happen. Bones will find something that can help. He's worked wonders before."

"Millions of hours, figuratively countless hours, have been spent by those at the Vulcan Science Academy in pursuit of a cure or relief for the pon farr. None has yet been found after decades of research," Spock intoned evenly. "While Doctor McCoy's efforts are laudable, it is highly improbable he would meet with any different success."

"What about me?" Jim asked before he nerves could get the better of him. "Am I not Vulcan enough for you?" He swallowed roughly around the lump in his throat.

Spock looked at him, and this time he looked at him. Jim felt simultaneous waves of panic and terror with a small underlying layer of excitement that tingled up and down his spine. "My blood burns for you, beloved," Spock said simply, his voice thick. "But I wouldn't ask that of you."

Jim could hear his pulse beating loudly in his ears. It was a well-guarded secret - though perhaps a less-well-guarded one on the Enterprise - that Jim was asexual. He had never been sexually attracted to anyone and - in point of fact - was repulsed by the very notion of sex. When he was seventeen and had first decided to attempt the feat, he had nearly thrown up when the other man had touched him.

After a half-dozen false starts that - through bad luck and poor timing - somehow managed to secure Jim a reputation as a playboy, he had resigned himself to a life alone. Well, as alone as you could be with Bones and the entire crew of the Enterprise determined to be your family.

Spock had been a surprise. First, as a congenial colleague, then as a friend. Then, after the realization that Vulcans were mostly asexual as well - with apparently some very important caveats - as a partner. Jim told Spock about Iowa and his father, and Spock told Jim about Shi'Kahr and his mother. They played chess and talked ship's business and exchanged Vulcan kisses (because human kisses were often too much for Jim) and melded for hours, the steady press of Spock's fingers on his face all the grounding Jim needed.

But this...this changed everything. No matter what Jim decided - because Spock had put the decision solely in Jim's hands and doesn't he understand that now - everything would be different. Obviously, a small voice reminded him. Because either you'll sleep with him or he'll die. Jim shushed the voice, because it had to be a more complicated decision, didn't it? Because that choice only led to one answer.

The look on Spock's face was serene and his eyes were calm, as if he'd already accepted Jim's answer. But he couldn't have, because Jim hadn't made one yet. Or maybe he had.

"Ask me."

Spock blinked and his peaceful expression shattered. "What?"

Jim took a deep, shaky breath and double-checked himself. Yep. Still decided. "Ask me."

Spock was wide-eyed and his lips were trembling ever-so-slightly. "Jim," he rasped. "Will you knowingly and willingly consent to join with me, here, during my Time, as I pass through the mating fires?"

"Yes." Jim's voice was low, but sure.

"Will you--" Spock faltered. "Will you knowingly and willingly consent to bond with me during this, the first of my Times?"

"Yes," Jim repeated, his voice ringing with certainty this time.

Spock's voice dropped to a near-whisper. "Will you knowingly and willingly consent to stay with me, t'hy'la, binding your family to mine?"

"Yes," Jim agreed. Then he added, "Is this usually quite so much like a marriage proposal?"

Spock looked a little dazed from Jim's agreement. "Not traditionally. Generally speaking, bonding usually occurs when one is young and does not require a formal declaration of intent. The mingling of families is a separate event, usually performed at the behest of the higher ranking matriarch shortly after the bond has matured." Now Spock looked faintly guilty. "I could not bear to be parted from you by any ritual known to my people, beloved. If I acted in undue haste, please forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive, Spock," Jim told him fondly. The panic that had accompanied him since Spock's initial description of pon farr hadn't dissipated, but it had settled and Jim could work around it now. The thin frisson of excitement that had run through him at Spock's gaze had vanished, but Jim had hopes that it might pop up again. The overwhelming emotion Jim was feeling right now was love. Love for Spock, who could lay out any problem with cool aplomb, no matter how personal. Spock, who trusted Jim to know his own limits. Spock, who proposed and then apologized for it. Spock, who was so dear to Jim and so very much Spock, that Jim feared for the fate of any universe without him in it.

"Very well, then," Spock said, the slightest blush of green across his cheeks the only hint of his pleasure at the exchange. "I trust you will keep the doctor appraised of the situation?"

"Of course," Jim agreed. "We'll need to talk about things, lay in supplies, antiemetics, that sort of thing."

Spock nodded and straightened up, attempting to revert back to the professionalism that was so familiar to them both. "If you do not have any further need for me, Captain, I will be spending my remaining leisure time in meditation."

"Sounds good, Mr. Spock."

Just before he reached the door, Spock paused and turned around, extending his fingers towards Jim once more. Jim obliged him, feeling relieved that at least this hadn't changed.

Once Spock had gone, Jim took a moment to breath and reevaluate himself. He was still good? Yeah. His lips curled in a smile. It would be rough. The panic and terror were still lurking beneath the surface, but for the moment they had subsided. He and Spock could get through this; just another one of the obstacles that ended up being no match for the Enterprise's command crew. They had this.

Jim squared his shoulders and walked out of the room to find Bones.

It wasn't easy. Jim suspected it would never be easy. But it wasn't bad, not with Spock. Not when Jim was doing this because of Spock. Because it would save Spock's life and there had never been anything more precious to Jim than that. Not his ship, not anything.

And when it was over, when the fever had passed and Spock slept peacefully at last, Jim had curled around him and run his fingers gently through Spock's sweat-soaked hair. And when Spock woke up, the first thing on his lips had been Jim's name and the second had been an apology. And Jim had shushed him firmly and kissed his forehead softly and told him there was nothing to forgive.

So Spock just held Jim tightly with trembling arms and murmured his gratitude into Jim's neck while Jim stroked his hair and held him back just as tightly.

----------------------------- *A/N: I'll just be over here inventing Vulcan courtship practices. Don't mind me.

Content Note:

Warning: This fic contains mentions of a sex-repulsed character engaging in consensual sex. He wouldn't ordinarily choose it, but events conspire and he consents to sex in this specific set of circumstances. He is still sex-repulsed afterwards, but will likely consent to sex under similar parameters in the future.

I am also sex-indifferent myself, and as such have no experience with the kind of situations Jim finds himself in in this fic. I have attempted to portray his feelings realistically, but I may be rather off base. Apologies.

#Resolution19 #Asexual #Asexual Awareness Week #star trek #aos #k/s #ace!kirk #ace!spock #pon farr #dubcon #but consent?

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perksofbeingawaifu · 7 years

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“logic”

Vulcan Levi comes to Chief Medical Officer Dr. Hanji suffering from a mysterious ailment. What is it? Pon Farr? Mysterious alien spores? Or something a little more banal?

Star Trek AU, ereri, g rated, ~2200 words, tw: needles. maybe based on recent life experiences

When Levi stepped into the sickbay, Hanji’s first reaction was that the Vulcan had come to scold them for the missing core samples taken on the newly discovered planet Oasis.

“Dr. Hanji—“ Levi started.

“I only borrowed them! I promise I’ll have them back to Dr. Arlert within—“

“What?” Levi asked, brows pinching together.

“What?” Hanji’s eyes drifted toward the ceiling.

There was a pause and then Levi appeared to wave off that minor distraction.

“I wanted to know…while we were on Oasis…were there any…was anyone brought aboard the ship with any new ailments?”

It was a roundabout way of getting to the point, Hanji thought. The Vulcan was usually far more pointed (forgive the pun) with his questions.

“Well, there was an uptick in Orion’s Buckle but that’s to be expected, Oasis is very romantic, I heard many of the crew calling it a tropical paradise—“

“What’s that?”

“Orion’s Buckle? Oh…well you know. That’s not the scientific term, just what the crew calls it. It’s a play on words. Like Orion’s belt? It’s a good old fashioned sexually transmitted infection. Some people attribute it to the Orion syndicate’s more seedy locations, but in reality it’s been around for hundreds of years. I had at least five people in here with symptoms. I traced back the source to one young stud of a crew member who I have since disciplined for failing to get treatment. But he and his paramours should be recovered by now. Nothing out of the ordinary. There’s always an uptick in those sorts of illnesses whenever we have shore leave. Why?”

“What’s it look like?”

“Oh. Boils. Pustules. Warts. It’s quite disgusting, but very treatable.”

The tension in Levi’s shoulders relaxed a little.

“Why?” Hanji asked, now a little too interested. “Because let me tell you, that if someone I knew had contracted something on a new planet and had failed to follow proper quarantine procedures, the ramifications could be disastrous as this disease spread throughout the entire crew.”

“You’re the Chief Medical Officer, right? So there’s a doctor patient thing, right?”

“Yes, anything you tell me is completely confidential. I do have to put it in my logs, but—“

“What if you didn’t put them in the logs?”

“That would be a serious breach of Starfleet protocol Levi.” Hanji might be slightly flexible with other rules, but they were quite serious about documenting any and all crew ailments.

This appeared enough for Levi. He slowly slipped his hands out of his pockets and held them, palms up to Hanji.

The skin on Levi’s hands was dark green and cracked, bleeding slightly. It looked like rope burn, but if that were the case Hanji would have tended to it first and written a report. Hanji slipped on gloves and pulled Levi’s hands toward them. Levi winced.

“The skin is tender?” Hanji asked, prodding the skin a little with tweezers.

“Yes,” Levi said, eye twitching as Hanji continued to poke him.

“Any joint or muscle soreness? Gland soreness?”

“I’ve already checked. If it had been in the medical disease logs, I would have treated myself. As such, I don’t know what it is, so that’s why I’m here.”

Why is it, Vulcans thought valuing logic made them smarter than everyone else?

“Well let me take a few samples. I think it’s safe to say you’re on quarantine. Step inside the bubble.”

Levi sighed and stepped into the quarantine zone. Hanji put up the shields around them both and set to work. They took samples, they prodded the tender flesh, they ran their tricorder over his body, and all the while Levi watched Hanji’s movements like a hawk.

“Well I think I can take you off of quarantine,” Hanji said after several long minutes. “It looks like an allergic reaction. You must have come into contact with something on the planet. It’s possible others had the same reaction and dismissed it or it may only be something that’s Vulcans are allergic to. Either way, I have a solution!”

They smeared Levi’s hands with medicated cream. For the half hour that he sat there with his carefully rolled up sleeves, he looked like someone who had stuck both hands into a vat of mayonnaise. When Hanji wiped it off, the inflammation in his hands had all but faded away. The dark green patches had faded so much they were barely noticeable.

“Keep applying this until it’s gone away completely,” Hanji said, handing him a jar of the cream.

All in a day’s work.

<*>

Levi reappeared within a fortnight. “It’s worse,” he said.

Hanji hadn’t even turned around when Levi appeared.

“Really? I thought the cream would—AH!” Hanji quickly recovered by turning their shocked yelp into a cough.

The rash had spread across Levi’s face, concentrating mostly around his mouth. It looked like someone had socked him in the mouth with green putty. His face was slightly swollen and the eyes puffy and heavy with dark green crusting along his lash line.

“Oh Levi, you should have come to me sooner, you look awful!”

He did indeed look a miserable and pitiable figure. He hid it well, but pain can make even the most stoic of Vulcans crack.

“I only came here because I ran out of that cream.”

“Yes, but Levi, you are clearly having a more severe allergic reaction.”

“I’m fine,” Levi said, scratching at his neck. “Just give me more of that stuff.”

“No, we need to do a whole work up here. Find out what it is on this ship that you’re so allergic to. I’m gonna have to do a scratch test—“

“Scratch? As in…needles?” Levi took a step backward.

“No, just a tiny little scrape,” Hanji said.

Hanji had seen Levi take down a drunk Klingon with deadly precision, but he often paled and fled when faced with the biannual inoculations.

Levi hesitantly removed his shirt and Hanji could see there were more marks around his neck and chest. They resisted saying anything, but it almost looked like hickeys. Hanji completed the test and then input the data, scanning him with the tricorder once more.

“So it looks like we have our results. You’re allergic to dust—“

“Isn’t everyone?” Levi snapped.

Well that explained his fastidious nature and hatred of dust. Hanji had wondered if it was a Vulcan thing.

“And human dander.”

“Human…you mean I’m allergic to humans?” Levi asked incredulously.

“It’s not uncommon. That’s why the filters on the ship are so strong, to protect those with cross species allergies.”

“I understand the theory, Hanji,” Levi dismissed. Ugh, Vulcans. “It’s just I’ve never had an issue the entire time I’ve been aboard, why now?”

“Well, it could be that because you are so thorough in your cleanliness.”

That and he was averse to touch. Hanji had extended a handshake to him they first time they met and he had not taken it.

“Or maybe you’ve been working closely with a human? Have you had any physical contact with humans?”

Levi had an amazing poker face.

“Or it could be human saliva. Maybe you accidentally took a sip out of a glass someone else had—“

Levi clicked his tongue at the idea.

“When was your last Pon Farr?” Hanji asked, wondering if nearing the blood fever could have anything to do with his immune system acting up.

Levi’s nostrils flared.

“Well, I’m going to give you an antihistamine for now,” Hanji said, holding out a little cup with a pill in it to Levi. “And then I will develop a series of shots for you that will hopefully—Levi?”

He had taken the pill and run. Hanji sighed.

“Patient declined injections for allergy,” they said into their tricorder before tilting their head back for a quick power nap.

<*>

“I need another pill,” Levi said the next day.

The itching was worse and the skin looked crusty. Hanji wanted to scratch just looking at him.

“You need shots,” Hanji emphasized.

“I need another pill,” Levi repeated.

“Levi you need the shots or else you will build up an immunity to the pill. Any further contact with humans will only make it worse.”

“Then I will simply cut off all contact,” Levi said simply.

Vulcan logic.

<*>

“I thought you were cutting off all contact with humans?” Hanji said.

They had a very naked Levi on the table. The rash had spread to his genitals and for the first time ever Hanji was able to see what an embarrassed Vulcan looked like. Apparently, it looked a lot like a naked Vulcan with a rash on his ass.

“Humans are…persuasive,” Levi licked his cracked lips.

“You need to tell your human girlfriend that you need some time to heal since you refuse treatment.”

“Girl…friend.” Levi did not understand the words. “I will inform them that we may no longer see each other.”

“That’s not what I said!” Hanji called after him as he stalked out of the sickbay.

<*>

“Hey Doc!” Eren waved at Hanji. “Got a moment?”

“Eren! Good to see you! How are you doing? In good health, I hope?”

“Sortof. Look I feel kindof silly coming in, but I have had these allergies driving me absolutely crazy. Look at me, my eyes are constantly itchy, my nose is running, I’m sneezing all the time. I just want to be able to focus. I’ve washed and cleaned my quarters several times. I’ve tried different diets. I’ve had them change the filters in my room. At this point I’m out of options.”

“Okay well let’s do a scratch test for you.”

Hanji gained an odd sense of déjà vu while they performed the test.

“So I’ve got your results and it looks like you’re allergic to dust—“

“Isn’t everyone?” Eren grinned and Hanji chuckled.

“And…Vulcan dander.”

“Vulcan…do Vulcans have dander? Wait, what? I’m allergic to Vulcans? How is that even possible? My sister is half Vulcan!”

“It’s possible because of her half human side that you’ve never had an issue before,” Hanji speculated.

“Well, this explains it. So what do I do? I can’t just…ignore all Vulcans? That’s speciest and also…really difficult because..I’ve sortof been seeing one.”

He was handsome when he flushed like that. Hanji already knew that most people on the ship, no matter the species, found Eren to be quite attractive.

“Good news is all you need is a series of shots. You’ll need to work your way up to a set dose but after that you should only need one every six months.”

“Really? Oh that’s awesome. Thanks Hanji.”

“I can give you the first round today if you’d like.”

“That would be perfect,” Eren said rolling up his sleeves eagerly.

“You’re much better than my last allergy patient,” Hanji said with a grin. “I had a Vulcan sitting in that pod and he was terribly allergic to humans but refused shots for it. It’s sad but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Eren sat up.

“I’m sorry?” he said.

“Oh, it’s just that species allergies are more common than you might think! Can you imagine being allergic to humans on a ship that is eighty percent humans? And I am a doctor but I can’t just wave a magical wand and make him better. Nope, you need shots.”

Hanji turned around with the injection gun in one hand and tricorder in the other and found the pod empty. They sighed.

<*>

Eren reappeared a half hour later, dragging Levi behind him like a very surly balloon.

“Dr. Hanji is it possible for Vulcans to explode from having intercourse with other non-Vulcans during Pon Farr?”

“…What?” Hanji asked, completely lost.

“He led me to believe this is what Pon Farr looks like,” Eren said, pointing at a miserable Levi. “But you’re just allergic to humans, aren’t you? All you need is a shot.”

“I don’t want a shot,” Levi said, digging his heels in like a stubborn mule.

By the stars, they were allergic to one another. Hanji wanted to burst into laughter.

“Look, I’ll get the shots, you can watch me and you’ll see it’s no big deal and then you get them, okay?”

Levi glowered.

“Please?” Eren begged. “For me?”

Levi relented.

“Here, Eren, you get comfortable in the pod. And Levi—“

“I prefer to stand,” Levi said crossing his arms.

“Right well I’ll just get Eren’s shots ready then,” said Hanji. “Now, you may feel a small—GOTCHYA!!!”

Hanji used the opportunity when Levi’s guard was down to jab him in the neck with the injection gun. Levi let out a howl of surprise but surprisingly there was little damage to Hanji’s labs save for their goggles and one sickbay pod.

“Ow, four eyes, you really got me,” he complained later, rubbing his neck and eating a frozen treat.

This coming from the Vulcan that had walked around with a dislocated shoulder for two weeks and never noticed. Hanji had told him the popsicle had medicine in it that would help the inflammation go down but really they had just given him the sweet hoping a little positive reinforcement might go a long way.

“Eren isn’t complaining nearly as much as you,” Hanji pointed out as Eren ate his popsicle happily.

“I don’t mind. I’d get a million shots just to be with the one I love,” Eren said, crunching on his cherry treat.

Well, that was the second time in as many weeks Hanji was blessed with a blushing Vulcan.

#ereri #ereri fanfic #ereri snk #snk #unbeta'd #drabble #next time hanji tries lollipops and stickers #hanji pov

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lauravanarendonkbaugh · 7 years

Text

It’s been a busy month!

First I went to Realm Makers, which has become one of my favorite writing conferences, and then to a small local writing conference at Taylor University, my first time visiting there. In a couple of weeks I’ll head west again to attend the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers conference. It’s like I’m trying to get my annual allowance of writing conference in just a few weeks!

This little girl was so excited about the fairy unicorn wings she made herself.

Gen Con sold out completely. Not a badge to be had.

Then I had Gen Con, an awesome gathering of 65,000 or so (final attendance not yet released for this year) of your geekiest friends to talk about games, books, history, film, anime, and pretty much everything related. Gen Con is always super-busy for me, because I teach sessions (this year I presented twice on Japanese Folklore & Mythology and once on Norse mythology, as well as teaching costuming workshops from Featherweight Armor to Moldmaking to a make-and-take for simple, hallway-safe wings) and because we compete in the costume contest, which because of Gen Con’s process is mostly a whole-day affair.

Stonn getting into makeup.

Mr. Spock and his Pon Farr friends!

This year, by request of my talented friend Emi, we went as a group of Vulcans from the iconic Star Trek episode “Amok Time.” I played Stonn, Spock’s romantic rival for his bride T’Pring. We paraded through the convention center, aggressively jingling Vulcan jingle-coffins and displaying our lirpa (it’s that improbably off-balance weapon) and nodding politely at everyone who recognized us. It was fantastic fun, and we got a lot of crowd love from fans, and then we won third place in the Professional division. (First and second place went to Queen Amidala and historically-accurate Belle, who totally deserved it. Their costumes were far more complex than our low-budget ’60s television designs.)

Our stage presentation was live-singing “A Message From T’Pring.” If that title prompts you to start humming the Hamilton soundtrack, yep, you’re right.

We also had one of my favorite joke-props ever.

I did get to play some Pathfinder, including the Season 9 opening special, and that was fun. (I have a level 12 kitsune sorceress. Of course.)

We saw cars from all over the US and even Canada.

The Solar Eclipse

After the fourth day of Gen Con, we went home and loaded the car to drive to Kentucky the next morning, where I’d reserved a parking spot in Hopkinsville, the point of longest totality for the 2017 solar eclipse. The community college campus was an eclipse festival, with food trucks, lectures, and a weather balloon launch.

I’d seen partial solar eclipses before, but never totality, and wow. I’d read repeatedly that there is a real difference, and it’s true. The partial coverage was fun, especially nearing full coverage, when the sunlight got all weird like someone had screwed up the Photoshop brightness/contrast settings. You want to worry that you have eclipse blindness already (you don’t, it takes a day or two to show effects even if you stupidly stared directly into the sun), but it’s just the atmosphere refracting the reduced light.

Remember those old serials where they’d just put a filter on the camera to pretend it was night? It looks like that. –my sister Alena VanArendonk

Totality was a very trippy experience. The sun was SO BLACK, and my poor phone camera just wasn’t equipped to handle the contrast. Cicadas sang as twilight fell. I could see the corona with my naked eye. There was a 360-degree sunset. It was really cool, and not nearly long enough even at the country’s longest totality.

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solar-power

We noticed a curious gap in the campus’s solar power generation feed….

You don’t realize how bright the sun is until you see how much of a shadow it casts at just a tenth of its power.

During totality, we had twilight with a 360-degree sunset.

20170821_190328

Passing over parkway traffic on the way home.

telescope

My cheap solar telescope did the job and even let me grab a few photos.

crescent

This tiny sliver of sun was still throwing strong shadows — or shade. Photographed through the telescope.

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Being from the Midwest, I thought I’d seen all the fair food, but this gravy-and-eggs-stuffed pretzel was new to me. (No, it wasn’t tasty. They were just out of most else.)

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decorated car window

Then we started the trip home. We gave up trying to leave and went inside the community college to wait in the air conditioning for an hour, until the parking lot had cleared enough that we could get on the road. Then we headed off to charge the car and go home.

It took a bit over 5 hours, including charging and heavy traffic, to reach Hopkinsville Community College that morning. It took a bit over 10 hours to get home, because traffic was so bad. Gas stations (we stopped for snacks) were packed with lines 4 and 5 cars deep waiting for fuel (consumed even faster as people idled and ran their air conditioning), and some ran out of gas. A station I was in for snacks was out of Rand McNally maps, as people looked for alternate ways home. A woman there said she’d been trying to leave the area for 4 hours. Did you know that Google Maps traffic layer has a color beyond red?

That was when we could get Google Maps at all. Cell signal is patchy at the best of times in rural Kentucky; the network simply could not handle the demands of a couple hundred thousand extra phones all searching for signal.

We did better than most, though. We left the main roads and hit remote back routes which haven’t seen five vehicles in a row since Daniel Boone was guiding settlers through. While the back roads had their own issues — clearly some of the eclipse drivers weren’t used to driving rural roads at night, with the lack of street lights and clearly-painted lines — they were at least moving steadily.

It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Western Kentucky’s infrastructure just isn’t built to handle that quantity of humanity. I saw that the town of Kelly’s annual August festival usually draws about 2,000 visitors to the town of 300, but they were expecting 20,000 for the overlapping festival and eclipse. And that was just in tiny Kelly, and the eclipse path ran nearly the length of the state.

The slow trip home gave me a chance to read up on the aliens, though.

Little Green Men

That festival in Kelly is the annual Little Green Men Days, commemorating an alleged close encounter 62 years ago.

On August 21, 1955 — yes, the solar eclipse date is an anniversary — 5 adults and 7 children reported an assault on their farmhouse by “little men” they claimed were extraterrestrials. (The color green was added in later media reports, and this may be the trope-namer for the phrase.) They fled to the Hopkinsville police station (their farm was between Hopkinsville and Kelly) to ask for help, saying they’d been fighting the creatures for 4 hours.

The whole affair started when one of the men, visiting from out of state, had gone out to retrieve water from the well. He saw a bright rainbow-colored light which he described as a flying saucer shoot overhead and land beyond a nearby treeline, hissing. He went inside and reported it to the family, who didn’t pay him much heed — until not long after when the little men, with gangling arms, stumpy legs, and a swaying gait, approached the house and began to peer in through the windows.

(It occurred to me, as I read, how much these “little men” sounded like the cinematic character E.T. in their description. But guess what? Steven Spielberg actually developed a film based on the Hopkinsville encounter, originally in the horror genre but ultimately gentle in nature and titled E.T. the Extraterrestrial. I’m gonna bet E.T.’s physical shape was a direct lift from the Hopkinsville reports.)

A dozen local police, state troopers, military police, and county deputy sheriffs went out to the farm and found no aliens, just plenty of evidence of the family’s shooting out the windows and an iridescent substance where one of the creatures had allegedly been shot. The Suttons and Taylors did not go with them to investigate. After a few hours they left the farm and told the family to go home, which they did — and the creatures returned at 3:30 am. Some of the family and friends were gone by morning. The rest left the farm within days, whether from fear of the creatures or because of harassment from disbelieving neighbors. None ever retracted their story, and the three surviving witnesses refuse to speak of it today. The goblins, as they became known, have not been seen in the area since.

Project Blue Book lists the incident as a hoax in a single typewritten line, with no further explanation or comment. However, Geraldine Sutton-Stith, daughter of Elmer “Lucky” Sutton who saw and shot at the creatures, says that a man knocked at her door to share his father’s deathbed confession of retrieving UFO wreckage for the federal government on that very night and just a few miles away. Of course, no evidence of this deathbed confession was provided.

Modern psychologists have concluded that drunken farmboys mistook some owls for space aliens. It’s clearly bunk. No, not the farmboys’ story, but the debunking of it.

Great Horned Owl talons, courtesy of Flikr user khyri, https://www.flickr.com/photos/khyri/628646383

Rodney Schmaltz and Scott Lilienfeld, famed debunkers of pseudoscience, wrote in 2014 that the Suttons and Taylors were probably intoxicated and mistook Great Horned Owls for aliens. This simply reeks of some smug ivory tower professor dismissing those they consider their clear intellectual inferiors. Sure, Billy Ray Taylor was just an out-of-work carnie, and had a stereotypical hillbilly name like Billy Ray, and it would be easy to make fun of him. But the professors need to keep in mind the following basic points about farmboys and owls:

These were rural folk who had to go outside to get their water from a well. They would have been familiar with owls. They would have known if owls had a nest nearby, as alleged.

One of the creatures allegedly grabbed Billy Ray’s head as he went onto the porch. A grab from an owl leaves a significant mark; there’s a reason raptor caretakers use those heavy leather gauntlets. He would have received a lot more than a hair pull, and there would have been a significant injury for law enforcement to document, had it indeed been an owl defending a nest as suggested.

Nothing fits with normal owl behavior. The Suttons and Taylors described the creatures’ rolling gait with long arms and short legs. Owls don’t walk around vulnerable on the ground, especially not when defending a nest, and especially not during 4 hours of gunfire (and, the farmboys say, at least a few direct shots). And they don’t tolerate 4 hours of gunfire and then come back later to start up again.

The family emptied 4 boxes of .22 ammo at the creatures, plus an unknown quantity of shotgun slugs. (The men reported that bullets make a clinking metallic sound when they struck the silver-clad little men, and that one was knocked from a tree but could not be found later.) Keep in mind .22s generally come in boxes of 100 or even 500. The smallest I’ve seen is 50, and I cannot imagine that in rural Kentucky of the 1950s, when people used guns weekly for varmint control and hunting for food, that the boxes were smaller. The report doesn’t specify the size of the boxes, but I find it unlikely that men who almost certainly hunted for meals couldn’t kill a bird in several hundred shots.

The eyewitnesses described the “little men” as “silver” and “shining.” It’s suggested that this was a confusion of the owls’ reflective eyes, but owl eyes don’t reflect silver. Nor do their bodies shine.

Most key, the initial news report specifies that law enforcement found no evidence of drinking. While every skeptic’s take I’ve seen includes words like “intoxicated” or “moonshine,” the only support I’ve found for this is that a later visitor to the farmhouse saw “a few beer cans” in the trash. A few beer cans is not enough to work 5 adults into a panic, if the beers were even consumed that night, and not in the trash from a previous or later time. Law enforcement at the time said it was a respectable family without a history of absurd behavior, and the matriarch who’d owned the house for decades had a reputation for avoiding alcohol and disallowing liquor at home.

Does this mean I believe they were aliens? Of course not. I don’t have any evidence to say what happened that night, whether aliens or escaped silver-painted circus monkeys (another explanation, somewhat weakened by the lack of local circuses or reported missing monkeys) or straight-up hoax. I only say that I find the popular owl explanation arrogant and insupportable. Look, I live in the country, I’ve been startled by owls — a screech owl 15 feet over your head in the inky creepy midnight will definitely get your attention — and I knew each time within a second that it was an owl and I just had to wait for my heart rate to drop back to normal. That 5 country-bred adults would be convinced for hours that it was something else? I just don’t buy it.

It was certainly a less expensive and less destructive invasion than most Hollywood versions.

Billy Ray wasn’t the only one to report lights in the sky that night. Were they meteors? Maybe. Or maybe Billy Ray and his friends successfully defended Earth from alien invasion and we owe them a debt of gratitude for scaring off the extraterrestrials with cheap .22 ammo. May all invasions be so easily repelled.

Sableye

Today, the close encounter is remembered in Kelly’s festive Little Green Men Days, but also in several geeky pop culture specimens. I’ve already mentioned E.T., but allegedly the Pokémon Sableye is also based on these creatures. And Paizo borrowed the name and concept for their goblin creature the Hobkins, which you may fight in Pathfinder, should you play at Gen Con or another geeky gathering.

What did you do for the eclipse? Spot any aliens?

Conferences, Cons, and Solar Eclipse 2017, Or What I Did On My Summer Vacation It's been a busy month! First I went to Realm Makers, which has become one of my favorite writing conferences, and then to a small local writing conference at Taylor University, my first time visiting there.

#travelogue #video

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barpurplewrites · 7 years

Text

Currently untitled Star Trek AOS Fic

A random idea that occurred to me a while back. Not sure what to call it so suggestions welcome

Teen and Up

Spock/Uhura

Pon Farr. Humour (hopefully)

-x-x-x-

Kirk discreetly smothered another yawn and wondered just how much was left of this particular ceremony. The Enterprise was opening official trade relations with Ho’lat, a matriarchal race who had very particular protocols for business relations. He and Spock had been involved in the reading of the terms of trade for the last two hours. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Spock shuffle again, even the Vulcan was getting uncomfortable. The ceremony finally came to an end Kirk made the correct farewells to the Ho’lat and turned to Spock with a sigh. A frown quickly replaced he’s relived expression.

“What’s wrong Spock?”

“I assure you I am quite well captain.”

Kirk’s eyebrows rose at Spock’s blatant lie.

“You’re sweating and shaking.”

“It is nothing Jim.”

Now Kirk knew something was very wrong. Spock almost never called him Jim, and the snarl in his voice sounded almost emotional. A quick look around the room located Bones, who hurried over at Kirk’s not so subtle beckoning. The doctor took one look at Spock and blanched.

“We need a private room and Urhura. Now.”

The doctor’s tone was so commanding that Kirk found his feet moving toward the exit before his brain had a chance to question what was going on. He led them to the private room his status as captain had granted him, once the door was closed he managed to ask a very important question.

“What the hell is going on?”

Spock’s hands balled into fists, sweat was pouring from him now, his only answer to Kirk’s question was a low growl. Kirk grabbed Bones and dragged him to one side.

“Is this Pon farr?”

“Oh well done, you didn’t sleep through all the Vulcan cultural classes then.”

The captain and the doctor exchange a frustrated look, behind them Spock was desperately attempting to regain control, but failing as the hormonal changes swamped his system.

“Doctor McCoy, please do not discuss my condition with the captain. Where is my mate?”

His question was delivered in a growl that sent a shiver down Kirk’s spine. The other thing he remembered from the Academy’s Vulcan cultural classes was that a male Vulcan’s strength could increase tenfold during Pon farr. He already had first-hand experience of Spock’s right hook; he did not want to risk a blow from him in this state. He whispered his plan to Bones.

“I’ll get her, but she’s in the linguistics meeting, it could take a while.”

“There are things I do medically for him until then, but hurry the hell up.”

Bones shoved him out of the door and locked it. He squared his shoulders and flexed his hands.

“Spock. I am your doctor. I can help you until Uhura arrives.”

“That will not be necessary Doctor.”

“Really? Because I think a hormonal Vulcan running around this protocol obsessed planet would be about as useful as a teetotaller at a whiskey tasting.”

It was reassuring that Spock still had enough control of himself to frown as McCoy’s choice of phrase.

“Very well Doctor, what do you propose?”

Bones moved to stand opposite Spock; he raised his right hand with his ring and pinkie finger tuck under his thumb, his other two fingers extended.

“Don’t ask me to pronounce it, but this meditation will help you relax.”

Spock nodded slowly and mirrored McCoy’s hand. Bones closed the small gap between their hands allowing their fingers to touch. He paused for a beat and then ran his fingers over the back of Spock’s, muttering to himself as he did so; “Down, round, up, reverse, down, round, up.”

“Focus on your breathing Doctor.”

Bones rolled his eyes; “Sorry, this is my first time.”

----

Kirk had managed to interrupt the linguistics meeting, only stumbling on the correct protocol once.

“Mother Ambassador, my sincerest apologies, a time sensitive matter has arisen. The presence of Lieutenant Uhura is required with the upmost speed.”

The Ho’lat ambassador bow and made her farewells to Uhura. Kirk held himself still and fought the urge to grab Uhura’s arm and drag her from the room, protocol be dammed. Finally they made it out to the corridor and Kirk was able to softly say; “It’s Spock. Pon farr.”

“It’s a week early. Where is he?”

“In the private room the Ho’lat gave me. He’s with Bones.”

“Okay, we’re going to need privacy for the at least the next four hours.”

Kirk’s step faltered, “Four hours? Wow.”

“Captain. Shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.”

----

Bones’ hand was working on muscle memory now and he was inhaling and exhaling in the correct pattern. A sudden flash of Uhura in the throes of passion popped into his mind, almost making him break contact with Spock. His professionalism kept his hand moving, his patient’s needs outweighing his embarrassment. Spock dipped his head to avoid the doctor’s eyes.

“My apologies Doctor, a mild mind meld can be a side effect of this procedure.”

Bones blinked rapidly as he tried to clear the images of Uhura from his mind. Who would have thought Spock was capable of such passion?

“Woah. I’ll forget everything I promise.”

Spock raised an eyebrow; “As will I regarding your intimate encounter with Nurse Chapel.”

Bones bit back his snarky reply as Spock’s head snapped up and his eyes fixed on the door.

“Now what?”

“My mate.”

The door opened and Uhura rushed inside a stream of Vulcan flowing from her lips as she moved towards Spock. Bones barely avoided being sandwiched between the two of them as they embraced. He stumbled into Kirk as he made a hasty exit dragging the captain into the hallway in his wake.

“Are you alright, Bones?”

McCoy gave a full body shudder and jerked his thumb at the locked door.

“You need to make sure they aren’t interrupted.”

Bones’ started off down the corridor art a fast pace, but Kirk managed to catch his arm before he’d gone too far.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to the ship to raid Chekov’s locker. I’m prescribing myself four fingers of bourbon to get the Vulcan out of my brain. I’ll send someone along with ear plugs for you”

Kirk’s head jerked around to stare at the closed door, “Wait? Earplugs?”

Bones had vanished around the corner leaving Jim to wonder if he was joking or not. He took up position outside the door to ensure that Spock and Uhrua were given all the privacy they needed to do, well he didn’t really want to think about it too much. Ten minutes later he discovered that Bones had not been joking at all.

#spock/uhura #Star Trek AOS #fanfic

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calliecat93 · 3 years

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Star Trek: TNG Episodes 9-12

Hide and Q: Okay, this one was mostly pretty good. It has a very interesting concept, what happens when a normal human gets granted God-like power? First we get Q again, who was by far the most entertaining part of this episode. Then we have Riker. So far he’s been the ideal First Officer... admittedly he may be a bit too much like Kirk except not a captain, but still. Kind of reminds me of the TOS episode To Where No Man Has Gone Before except Riker isn’t an ass like Gary and doesn’t have the weird eye effect thing. Things go pretty well with Riker having used his powers to save the crew and promising Picard that he won’t play God... until this promise prevents him from saving a dead child. That would make anyone upset. But it allows Q to pro him into using it for what seems like good things like granting what he thinks the crew wants, with all of them declining. Data and Geordi’s refusals were especially excellent... though Worf and Wesley’s ugh... desires were stupid. The ending was also very abrupt which puts a damper on what was otherwise an interesting, philosophical episode. They don’t even say if Riker lost the power or not and he gets zero resolution. Also Picard came of as ana ss with how he talked to an understandably conflicted Riker regarding the dead child. So far one of the better episodes with Q, the theme of humanity with power that doesn’t go into some kind of power mad direction, and some nice character bits from Data and Geordi. It needed a MUCH better resolution though. 3.5/5

Haven: So... Nurse Chapel was actually an alien and by the 24th Century got over her crush on Spock, married a human, had Deanna, and now is putting her daughter in an arranged marriage. Damn it Chapel, did seeing what happened with Spock in Amok Time teach you nothing?! Sure Pon Farr is off the table, but still! Okay, okay it’s not Chapel, just the same actress playing Troi’s mother cause I guess Roddenberry needed to get his wife in another ST show somehow. Anyways, Lwaxana is... kind of obnoxious. Majel Barrett does it well though. Anyways, the episode... it was okay. It got some laughs out of me like Data asking for the petty bickering to continue after Troi stormed out. That got a BIG laugh out of me, haha! But otherwise it was meh. Most of the petty bickering annoyed me and felt more in place in a sitcom, whatever romantic hinting I’m supposed to get from Troi and Riker falls flat since there’s been nothing since The Naked Now AND the episode began with him checking out other women so... sorry, no real sympathy for Riker. Troi was okay and her storming off when she gets sick of her mom and future mother-in-law was exactly how I felt. The ending felt kind of convenient to get Troi out of the wedding. I guess it’s kind fo sweet how Wyatt is willing to risk the plague to be with his destined lover and help her people... but IDK if it was a Disney movie I’d find it cute for for Star Trek... eeeehhhh. Just a full, unfunny episode. I was hoping to learn more about betazoid culture like how we found out more about Vulcans in Amok Time... but the time was wasted one the annoying sitcom antics or a forced romance. It had it’s funny bits, but otherwise Troi deserved a better focus episode than this. 2/5.

The Big Goodbye: Holodeck episode! Finally! I’ve been waiting for this! I really like how Picard got to be more light-hearted and... well, kind of a dork. Aside from a few bits, he’s overall been a hardass. So seeing a more fun side to him really helps make him more likable and fun. Data may be the only one who was a bigger dork, haha! The noir setting was nice and the concept of the holodeck allows a LOT of fun concepts that I’m excited to see in other episodes. And of course things go horribly wrong cause it’s Star Trek with the holodeck malfunctioning while the others are dealing with aliens. The moment the new guy gets shot and bleeds for real with everyone realizing that it’s not in good fun anymore got me wide-eyed. It’s the most fun episode so far. Not quite as much as TOS’ A Piece of the Action, but still fun. More fun than the last one at least. 3.5/5.

Datalore: So... Data has an evil brother. Welp. So far I’ve really enjoyed Data. I guess he’s supposed to be The Spock of the group, but instead of trying to shove away emotions and his human half, Data is an android who doesn’t have emotions and so far he comes as fascinated about it and what humans do. Similar deal but different enough to let Data be his own character and not just an attempt at copying Spock. Which, from what I can tell, is a big part of why a later S2 character failed but that’s for then, this is now. Learning more about where Data came from and his history/creation were great to learn about. Lore is a great contrast, appearing to be more human-like but also much more intimidating, manipulative, and villainous. His offer to help Data be more human and using that to knock him out and try to take his place to lure the ship to some Crystalline Entity. Major props to Brett Spiner for not only managing to play both Data and Lore and make them distinctive, but when Lore poses as Data he does a great job at acting as Lore acting as Data. That takes some major acting talent. It’s not a perfect episode, Picard comes off like an idiot for trusting Lore so easily and acts like an ass to Wesley when he expresses concern about it which not only makes Picard look incompetent and disregard one of his men’s understandable concerns, but again makes Wesley look better than the trained adults. Also the clue that Lore was Data was using contractions which Data doesn’ do... except I’m very sure that he HAD used contractions in past episodes so that comes across as a MAJOR ass pull that the writers didn’t bother to check continuity for, INCLUDING AT THE END OF THIS VERY EPISODE. Unless it turns out later in the show that Data was Lore all along, that is a HUGE continuity flub going against this very episode’s logic. That stops me from giving it a 5/5, but the episode is by far the best so far with great focus on Data (he didn’t deserve ANY of this), Lore is a really good villain and my mom already informed me that this isn’t the end of him, and it was an enjoyable episode that really held my interest. By far more than any episode so far, though we still have a loooong ways to go. 4/5.

Okay, it’s starting to get better. I can say that the last two episodes helped finally grab some interest from me and even Hide and Q had some interesting ideas. Haven was... blah, but not the worst thing ever. Datalore, despite the glaring flaws, continuity issues, and it again making me care less and less for Wesley, was a really good episode that really gripped me for at least Data, kind of like how The Naked Time did with getting me invested into Spock and to Kirk to a lesser degree. Fourteen more episodes of S1 to go. More to come tomorrow. Think for now I’m gonna do four a day, maybe more if we’re near the end of a season or something. But I’ms tarting to finally get invested, so yay~!

#st watchthrough

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beatrice-otter · 7 years

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Fic: House-building

Title: House-building Fandom: Star Trek AOS Characters: Original Female Characters, Author: beatrice_otter Rating: kid Length: Summary: When choosing a spouse, there are many things to consider. Sequel to: The Desert Between Nyota's Choice At AO3 "They're messing with us, aren't they?" Nyota said after reading the document.

"Given the low percentage of women who remain unmarried and the small total numbers of Keshta'shivau's population—" Spock said, but he didn't sound very certain. More like what he really meant was 'yes, but in a way that gives them plausible deniability.'

"They're totally messing with us," Nyota said. When they'd gotten the news that Enterprise would be close enough to Keshta'shivau, the new Vulcan homeworld, for them to take leave there, and contacted Lady V'Lar, Spock's Eldest Mother, they had been given detailed dossiers on eight women. All of the prospective brides were of above-average in intelligence, accomplishments, and clan connections. Most of whom had been beautiful. When none of them had worked out, they had been given another four, almost equally prestigious. When none of the second batch remained in consideration, they had been given one name. Of a woman who was, from her dossier, the most perfectly average Vulcan alive. "Would it have been an insult to the House of Surak to suggest someone below-average in any way?"

Spock considered. "Prior to the Destruction, merely suggesting an average person would have been considered an insult," he said. "Given the reduction in population and therefore choice—and given how late we have left it—it is difficult to say."

"In other words, they may think they're being insulting by suggesting her," Nyota said, waving the PADD around. "But there's just enough camouflage they can't be called on it."

"It is quite likely," Spock admitted.

"Well, at least she probably hasn't remained unmarried this long because she wants your clan connections," Nyota said. Two of those they'd rejected had done that.

"I see nothing objectionable about her," Spock said. Of course, the same had been true—on paper—with most of the women who had been suggested up to this point.

"She's a singer," Nyota said. "I like that."

"I will arrange an in-person meeting," Spock said.

***

Sevakis was deep in a meditative trance when the message came through. She had, in the four years since the Devastation, recorded everything she could consciously remember about her clan's history, heritage, lore, language, customs, domains, politics, allegiances, fashions, and personalities, but there was a limit to what the mind could consciously recall. Now she spent her limited free time seeking what fragments her unconscious mind might yet have stored. It was time-consuming and largely fruitless, but there was nothing of greater importance to fill her resting hours.

It was late when she roused herself, having found nothing new that evening. She had been tempted to stay in the trance all night. But while meditation might take the place of sleep for some time, it could not completely replace it, and it would be self-indulgent in the extreme to allow her work to suffer while she pursued the ghosts of her psyche. She opened her eyes to the same sight that had greeted her after every such occasion. A room, small but adequate, with everything she required and nothing she wanted, for anything she could want was dead. One room in a dormitory filled with similar rooms, all filled with strangers thus bereft.

She checked her messages before readying herself for bed, and saw that there had been a message from Lady T'Lauw, requesting a meeting at her earliest convenience. Sevakis attached her calendar for the next week, highlighting times in between practices, classes, and lessons that would be best, noting which appointments Sevakis could skip or move if T'Lauw required it. Then she firmly put the matter from her mind (although it didn't quite stay out) and went to bed.

***

When she woke, T'Lauw had replied. Sevakis would need to find someone to cover her third class of the day. She did not regret that; teaching classes in the theory and history of Vulcan music was her least favorite duty. But she was curious as to the urgency of the matter. Given that there were only a few reasons for T'Lauw to summon her, the haste was … suggestive.

At the theater complex, she found Toval in one of the practice rooms, readying himself for a lesson.

"Will you be able to cover my History of Music class?" Sevakis asked him. "We are covering the S'Heikla Period."

Toval inclined his head graciously. "Of course," he said. "Is anything amiss?"

"Lady T'Lauw has summoned me," Sevakis said, studying her friend. He was tall and stocky, with the effeminate features and resonant voice typical of his kind, and she knew him to be intelligent, witty, and very well suited to her. If he were not a chi`pah, they would probably have married, after her betrothed and his wife died in the Devastation. Though, if he were not a chi`pah, they probably would never have met as they would not have sung together, and he would probably have been on Vulcan when Nero came instead of touring with their company.

"With such urgency?" Toval asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is there one in dire need?"

Sevakis sighed. "She did not see fit to share anything with me besides an urgent need for my presence." If there was a man going into pon farr, whom they hoped she would marry, it would require at least a week off from her normal duties, if one included recovery time. More, if one included time necessary to make arrangements with her new husband for things like living space.

"If there is such a one, the forewarning to clear your schedule would be … beneficial," Toval said.

"Indeed it would," Sevakis said. Her own Eldest Mother—before the Devastation, when she had had a true Eldest Mother, and not merely an elderly woman of a foreign clan who had contracted with many newfound orphans to fill that role until the time, some decades hence, when they might have one of their own. Her own Eldest Mother, a distant cousin four generations removed, would have given her that courtesy. Then again, her own Eldest Mother had known her all her life, and her parents all their lives, and so on. There was a level of trust and familiarity that it was illogical to resent the lack of with a woman Sevakis had only met in person four times.

Being illogical, however, did not make it untrue. It merely made the resentment a burden for Sevakis to subdue.

"Have you reached any conclusions as to your own future decisions?" Sevakis asked. It was indelicate of her, but with her own future thus abruptly in motion, she desired to know.

Toval sighed. "I am in no rush. They can create gametes for me at any time, and surrogates will always be available." Chi`pain were those whose males whose voices as children were deemed so extraordinary that their gonads were surgically removed just prior to puberty, so that their unchanged voices might be preserved as they aged. They did not typically reproduce, and when they did (as all Vulcans now must, for the preservation of their species), required medical help. "It would be better, I think, to wait until the settlements on this world are more … established." He hesitated. "And … I find my grief still … I do not trust myself, yet, to be fully attentive as a child requires. Particularly alone."

"A logical decision," Sevakis said. She would not be alone, of course, not as he was. She could offer no reciprocation, for she could have no plans until she knew whom she would marry. In all probability, it would not be long even if T'Lauw did not have a match for her at this time. Over sixty percent of the other surviving Vulcan women had already married, and the remainder, herself included, were fast approaching that state.

But she needed to prepare for her first class of the day. She left her friend sitting at the ka'athyra, waiting for his pupil.

***

At the appointed time, Sevakis approached the house T'Lauw lived in. It was large, for Keshta'shivau; on Vulcan, it would have been a minor building, too small for a House or Clan. But it was illogical to build residences of the size that they would eventually need, when it would be some generations before there would be people to fill them.

Sevakis paused to take an inventory of herself before she knocked on the door. Her mind was fairly calm, and her shields were solid; her clothes and hair were neat and presentable and befitting her station. There was nothing else to be done.

She was shown into the antechamber and asked to wait for a few minutes. The room was still sparsely decorated, but a mural had been sketched in on one wall. Sevakis did not recognize the subject; it undoubtedly related to T'Lauw 's clan's history.

There was no telling how long it might be before she was called; while the business itself might be urgent, Sevakis was hardly the greatest of T'Lauw 's concerns. Not of her clan, nor of any clan allied to her clan before the Destruction; one woman, of no particular importance. T'Lauw, on the other hand, was one of only four Eldest Mothers left. She was a very busy woman, even by the standards of Keshta'shivau, on which there were few people who were not doing what would have been, on Vulcan, the work of at least three people.

The wait was not long. Sevakis was shown in to T'Lauw 's office and given a glass of juice, which she sipped at politely.

T'Lauw was a short, plump woman, her graying hair sleekly slept up in an elegant and traditional style that added at least ten centimeters to her height. She waited for Sevakis to take her first sip and then said, briskly, "You are being considered as a prospective bride for the son of the House of Surak, Spock son of Sarek son of Skon."

Sevakis almost dropped her glass in shock. "He is not already married?" The House of Surak was the greatest and most prestigious House of all, and not merely for its ancient history. T'Pau, the hero of the Second Reformation, had been its Eldest Mother. If Spock's bondmate had died with Vulcan, surely the surviving Eldest Mothers would have seen Spock's re-marriage as a priority. He should have bonded long since.

T'Lauw gave Sevakis a withering glance for asking the obvious question. "He has been quite busy with his Starfleet career, and there are … complications," she said, answering the question Sevakis should have asked, which was why T'Pau's only surviving great-grandson remained unmarried. "Spock has a paramour, a Human woman he serves with. She does not wish to leave Starfleet and settle on Vulcan. He did not wish to marry a Vulcan while there was still a chance she would choose the Vulcan way, as his mother did."

"You speak in the present tense," Sevakis observed. "The relationship will be continuing?"

"Yes," T'Lauw said. "Now that they have made their decision, they wish to have him marry as soon as may be practical. Their ship is in the vicinity, and they are here on shore leave for the next eleven days; after that, Spock will likely not return to Vulcan for another 1.8 years."

By which time, the pool of unmarried Vulcan women would be much smaller. "May I ask why I am being considered?" Sevakis was a woman of average intelligence, average genotype, and average phenotype, from an insignificant clan in a backwater area. The only noteworthy thing about her was her voice, which, since she did not come from a family noted for its musical talents, might not breed true. Even now, after several years of remarriages, there had to be many single women more worthy of marrying one of the House of Surak than she. As for common interests, she had never been interested in science or space exploration.

"Spock has found several of the women suggested to him … unsuitable," T'Lauw said. "Others objected to the Human paramour. You have travelled extensively throughout the Federation in the course of your career, and have experience with Humans."

Sevakis considered this. It could not be the entire answer; she had mostly toured as part of a company, and so spent most of her time offworld with other Vulcans. She had, on two occasions, been part of a Human production, and had not found it onerous, but had formed no lasting acquaintance among them. There were many Humans on Keshta'shivau, to help with the rebuilding and fill critical roles, and those who had survived the Devastation were mostly those who had been offworld at the time of Nero's attack. Her experience with Humans was neither extensive nor unique.

Which led to the critical question. It was an honor to be considered for the spouse of one of Surak's House, but was that worth sharing her home with a Human? Even if the paramour in question spent most of her time in space, Sevakis' home would be the Human's home base. Humans were … loud. Their rampant emotionalism was annoying and occasionally difficult when she had private, Human-free quarters to retreat into; Sevakis was not sure she wished to share a home with one. Especially a home which would, of necessity, be smaller than the sprawling clansteads of Vulcan.

Still. Generalities could be true and useful for dealing with groups; they were utterly inadequate when dealing with individuals. There was no point in making a decision without even meeting the Human in question. "When are we to meet?" she asked.

"You are not required at this evening's rehearsal," T'Lauw said.

That was not quite the case; her part was required, but there were others who could cover for her, and the session would be recorded so that she could know what had been done. Sevakis held her silence. It was clear that T'Lauw valued neither her time nor her work, but as she was (technically) Sevakis' Eldest Mother, it was not Sevakis' place to say otherwise.

"I will have Spock's dossier sent to you, along with his address," T'Lauw said, making a gesture to dismiss her and picking up a padd.

"And does his paramour have a dossier?" Sevakis asked. If she was the sticking point, it would be logical to include information about her.

"I am sure you can get her public file from Starfleet," T'Lauw said, not looking up.

Sevakis pressed her lips together, but required herself to bow with the proper respect, even if T'Lauw couldn't see it.

***

This Sevakis was punctual, but then one expected that in a Vulcan. She appeared at the meeting room Spock's Eldest Mother had arranged for them at precisely the appointed time. Unlike the other women they had seen, she was not accompanied by an Eldest Mother or other matron, but came alone. Nyota would have to ask Spock what the significance of that was, if it was a class difference or something else.

Spock offered her juice, and once the ritual of greeting was completed, they sat. There were four chairs. (The first woman they'd met with, she and Spock had made the mistake of thinking that V'Lar would take Nyota into account in the arrangements. She had not. There had been three chairs: one for Spock, one for his prospective bride, one for her chaperone, and no place for Nyota. They had had to wait while another chair was procured, and the disapproval had been palpable. Both for the wait, and that Nyota expected to be present.)

"Sevakis, thank you for coming on such short notice," Nyota said. She didn't smile, as she might have with a Human, but the words were most definitely a Human greeting ritual, and not a Vulcan one.

"You are welcome," Sevakis said.

At that, Nyota did smile. One the previous women had been discounted because, at Nyota's greeting, she had launched into a lecture on proper Vulcan forms of communication and why it would be important to eliminate any deviation from them. "I hope it was not too disruptive to your schedule."

Sevakis considered this. "There are few times that would not have been. Even my so-called open periods are filled with grading and planning. Especially given the short timeframe available. Did you choose this particular time slot?"

Spock shook his head. "No. Given that we are on leave, the matching process is our only obligation at the moment."

"Then it was Lady T'Lauw who set it. I would have chosen differently, but she did not consult me."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Nyota said. "I have a question, though—can't the computer grade for you? I wouldn't imagine that, as a musician, you assign many essays."

"There are some, in my history of music class," Sevakis said. "As for my composition class, the computer can grade how closely they followed the rules of the style they are learning, but it cannot assess artistic merit."

"Oh, of course," Nyota said. "I love to sing, myself, though obviously it is only a hobby, and Spock is also musical."

"Is that, then, a particular desire of yours?" Sevakis asked Spock. "A musical wife?"

"No," Spock said. "Or rather, if I were to list off every quality of my ideal spouse, it would be there; but there are many qualities I value above it. Only some of which are essential."

"May I enquire as to which ones? I am told that you have rejected several potential matches," Sevakis said. She glanced back to Nyota. "Or that you have. Would it not be logical to tell the Eldest Mothers, so that they may factor them in?"

"We have," Nyota said. "Believe me, we have. Some of it … I don't know whether they just aren't listening, or if they don't understand, or if there genuinely aren't any Vulcan women who fit. And then of course there are some who sound good on paper but just don't work in person. And then there was one who was just perfect, but chose someone else at the last minute." She and V'Ryla had gotten along excellently, but then V'Ryla's friend had gone into pon farr unexpectedly and not found a mate, and Nyota couldn't blame her for choosing him over Spock.

She shook her head. "Anyway. We want someone who accepts that I'm going to be part of this family, and that Spock himself is half-Human, and that while our kids are going to be raised Vulcan, they're also going to have at least some Human heritage along with it. Someone we can work with."

"And someone who is aware of the … prejudices and barriers that hybrids face in Vulcan society," Spock said carefully. "I have experienced them myself, and while the high number of exogamous marriages will create a large number of hybrid children in the next generation, I still have … concerns. There were several things that were handled poorly, by the adults around me, and I do not wish my own children to suffer from them as well. In some cases it was not done out of malice, but it was still … less than optimal."

Nyota's lips tightened. In most cases, it had been done out of malice. And that was one of the many things she'd had to wrestle with, over the years since Spock had first set her down and explained what he needed, and what her choices were. Could she take the chance, that her children would go through the same things he had? She'd made her choices, and here they were.

Sevakis waited after he spoke, glancing back and forth between them when it was clear they were both finished. "In other words, you want someone who will work with you as you are, protect your children from possible threats, and raise them in the manner you wish them to be raised. These do not seem to be unrealistic expectations. In fact, they seem to be the most minimum requirements for a functional family unit."

"Absolutely," Nyota said. That was promising. That was very promising. "You can see why I'm not about to lower my expectations."

"Have you been asked to?" Sevakis asked.

"Not directly," Spock said.

Sevakis pressed her lips together, taking in the implications of this. "And there it is. The reason why I was selected. And given such a bare minimum of courtesy, information, and time to prepare. They hope you will reject me, or perhaps I you, and then perhaps you will look more favorably on one of the women they have already suggested."

"Or others like them," Nyota said. "But I really don't give a damn about clan connections, and they're not that important for Spock either. As to intelligence and accomplishments, I think compassion and acceptance are far more important to a relationship. We're not picking an employee, we're picking a wife. And the mother of our kids."

"Are you, then, seriously considering me as a prospective spouse?" she asked Spock. "Or am I merely someone to get through before returning to the better candidates?"

"You have already shown yourself more suitable than most of the others my Eldest Mother has provided," Spock said.

"I agree," Nyota said. "And while I'm not going to make life-changing decisions based on what would make the old bats unhappy, I have to admit it doesn't hurt to know they'd fume if we actually chose you."

Sevakis blinked. "We have no relation to Terran winged mammals—"

"Sorry," Nyota said. "It's a colloquial term for an annoying and unpleasant older woman."

"I feel that I should defend the honor of the institution of matriarch," Sevakis said, "and yet I find I cannot disagree with you. With only four left, acting for many thousands of now-clanless people they scarcely know, they have grown manipulative and callous in their decisions." She thought for a bit. "I would also agree that while discommoding them is not a primary factor in my decision-making process, nor even a secondary one, the idea does bring an unworthy amount of satisfaction."

"There you have it, then," Nyota said, pleased. They were getting along quite well—they might become friends, which would be a benefit.

"May I enquire as to your own criteria?" Spock asked.

Sevakis thought it over before responding. "Someone I would not regret as a companion for the rest of my life," she said. "Someone I can live comfortably with—especially while the children are young, residing together in the same household is far preferable. I miss being part of a larger household. The hostel for unmarried people is not the same. I am quite content with finding external sources of companionship and support, but the household should be comfortable."

"But you must have some hopes," Nyota said. "Even if it's unrealistic."

"If I were choosing solely on my own preferences, I would choose Toval," Sevakis said. "He is the closest friend I have alive, and he is just as alone as I am. But he is chi`pain, and I am not selfish enough to remove myself form the pool of those who will most have need of a wife."

"Chi`pain," Nyota said. She'd learned some about them in basic Vulcan grammar; Vulcan had multiple gender pronoun systems, the more esoteric of which didn't translate well into Standard. "They're the male singers who are castrated right before puberty so their voices will not change, right? I guess that means they don't burn?"

"You are correct," Sevakis said.

Nyota wondered how that worked, if they were married to women who did go through pon farr, but that would be taking prurient curiosity a step too far. "Are you in love with him?"

"Vulcans do not—"

"I, of all people, know that Vulcans do in fact fall in love," Nyota said. "It's not just Spock, because he's half-Human, either; he wouldn't exist if Vulcans didn't fall in love. And I understand that the culture is different, that you don't consider it a primary consideration in marriage. Or even a secondary consideration. Or any kind of consideration at all, really. I'm certainly not saying that if you are in love with Toval—or anyone else—that it would be an impediment here if you honestly don't consider it to be one. But I would like to know."

Sevakis studied her for a few moments. "As I understand the term, no, I am not 'in love' with Toval, or anyone else. Nor have I ever been."

"Thank you for your honesty." It sounded a bit bleak, to Nyota, but it was obvious Sevakis didn't find it so.

Spock redirected the conversation. "What reservations do you have about this particular prospective match?"

"Humans are very … loud," Sevakis said promptly. "Physically, vocally, and mentally. In every way possible. It is wearing, and I do not care for it. While you are gone, it will not be an issue; but when you are on Vulcan, I will require some consideration. Expecting you to follow every Vulcan norm in your own home would be unreasonable, but a compromise would not be. And I would need spaces where I do not have to guard against the possibility of Lieutenant Uhura's presence."

"Quite reasonable, and easily done," Spock said, nodding.

"Children are loud," Nyota said. "What will you do about that?"

"It is the nature of children to be loud," Sevakis said. "But they do grow out of it. At least, Vulcan children do. And even when they are very young, there are respite carers available. When they are older, there is school." She paused, considering. "I do not dislike children, but neither do I have any particular attraction to them. But it is my duty, now, to bear children, or else my House—and, indeed, my whole clan—will be forever extinguished. I have helped care for children before, it was a standard chore for adolescents and young adults in my clan. I know I can do it competently, even though I do not find it fulfilling, as some do. In any case, some things may be avoided, and others may not be. The noise of children is of the latter, and the volume of an adult Human is of the former."

"Spock has taught me how to shield," Nyota said, a bit defensively. "And I've never been prone to tempers or mood swings. I doubt he'd have given me a second glance, if I were."

"In that you are correct." Spock nodded to her, before turning to Sevakis. "I would describe Nyota as determined. Fierce, when called for, but I doubt that aspect of her character shall be often required on Vulcan. She is fairly calm, for a Human, and her resting emotional state tends toward warm and affectionate. Provided she maintains her shielding, I should think that a separate bedroom and office space for you would be adequate for privacy and respite."

"Quite possibly," Sevakis agreed. "I have encountered many louder Humans."

The rest of the interview was, well, not boring, but fairly routine. Enquiries into each other's history, personal life, goals, and expectations. All in all, it really was more like a business interview than a preparation for marriage, in Nyota's view. But it was very like Vulcans to do so.

"What further information do you require?" Sevakis asked at last.

By this point, Nyota was not surprised at how blunt and businesslike everyone was treating this. She glanced over at Spock.

"I believe that we would all benefit from time to consider what we have learned today," Spock said. "At which point, if we are all in favor of going forward, I would like a meld before the final decision is made."

Sevakis frowned. "Before the bonding? Why?"

She sounded honestly baffled by such a thing, which Nyota didn't understand. If Nyota were going to be marrying a stranger and forming a telepathic bond with them that would last for the rest of her life, she'd damn well want a trial run ahead of time to test mental compatibility. She supposed it was different if you were used to such things being arranged by others when you were still a child.

"Is your neurology or psychology so different from Vulcan standard that it might be an issue?" Sevakis asked.

"No," Spock said. "However, I have found that full-Vulcans, however much they listen, cannot truly understand what it was like to experience the type and duration of bullying and exclusion that I did as a child simply from hearing me speak about it. Given that my children will likely experience the same, I wish to know what your reaction might be before any commitments are made."

"Very well," Sevakis said. "However, given the tight timetable and attendant disruptions to schedule, it would be most efficient to have the meld now, and then time to consider after."

"You do not require time to prepare?" Spock asked, with an eyebrow raised.

"No," Sevakis said.

"Very well," Spock said, and with little further ado they melded.

It was odd, to see it from the outside. Nyota knew that Spock had melded occasionally, in the course of his duties, but she had never been present. She had melded with him, on occasion, but had never witnessed it. It was quite boring, from out here. A few words, a touch, two people sitting motionless.

The most emotionally intimate thing two people could possibly do, and from the outside it looked … boring. It could almost be a metaphor for the standard prejudices against Vulcans. If you didn't understand, they were boring and cold. But if you were allowed to see inside, the reality was quite different. She wondered what was inside Sevakis.

She didn't have long to wait, although from the inside it probably felt much longer, before Spock and Sevakis were dropping their hands and sitting back.

"Oh," Sevakis said, blinking rapidly.

Nyota looked away. She wanted—how she longed!—to study the other woman and see her reactions. But it would be insufferably rude, by Vulcan standards, to pay attention to the other woman's small lapses of control, and if Sevakis was indeed a suitable wife for Spock, the last thing she wanted now was to insult her and possibly drive her away. Besides, Spock would know Sevakis' character far better, now, than anything Nyota would be able to observe from the outside in such a short time.

It did not take Sevakis long to recover well enough to leave, and the customary farewells were short and simple. Nyota watched her go, then turned to Spock. "Well?" she asked as soon as the other woman was probably outside of even Vulcan earshot.

***

On the tram ride home, Sevakis put aside the problem of Spock and Nyota, and got out her PADD. Plugging in a hearing bud, she watched and listened to the rehearsal notes that had been sent to her account. It was all simple and required attention but no deep contemplation, which made it perfect for public transportation and a more efficient use of her time than replaying the whole interview in her mind.

The rehearsal notes were not quite boring, but as close to it as they possibly could be, Sevakis noted. Given the vastly-reduced circumstances, there were only a handful of full productions per year, and given the many threats to Vulcan culture, now much reduced in number and dependent on the importation of aliens for its survival, a certain reactionary traditionalism was only to be expected. And, certainly, Sevakis' own tastes had always tended to the conservative and customary.

It was, however, unfortunate that so many—even within the artistic community—seemed to equate "traditional" with "rigidly uncreative dogmatism" these days.

When Sevakis reached the hostel, she went through her evening routine as usual before sitting down to contemplate her choices.

Except her mind kept circling back to the meld, and what Spock had shown her. He was quite correct; being intellectually aware of the result of adverse experiences on developing brains was not the same as experiencing it. And knowing that would be critical if she were indeed to end up house-mother to children who would probably experience similarly hostile circumstances.

She would have to meditate on this, and integrate what she had learned, before making a decision.

***

"Well?" Nyota asked. "What do you think?"

Spock tilted his head. "I think we would work well together," he said. "She is quite pragmatic and willing to listen. And she has an honest desire to create and live in an environment that is suitable and comfortable for all concerned. Her ethics are sound, and she is not prone to indifference or self-justification. Indeed, her ability to accurately analyze her own mental state is remarkable, even for a Vulcan. Perhaps especially for a Vulcan—we are quite likely to use our powers of logic to justify our behavior and thoughts, rather than as a basis for them."

"So, what you're saying is, she's not a bigot," Nyota said.

"I … am not quite sure that is the case," Spock said. "Her opinions about Humans in general and aliens in particular are quite typical. On the lesser end of what I would consider normal, for a Vulcan; but still present."

"Spock!" Nyota said. "If that's the case, what does it matter how great she is in other categories?"

"Her self-honesty, however, is remarkable," Spock said, "and in the end that may prove far more valuable. I do not know that there are any Vulcans who have no prejudices against Humans, or at least a sense of superiority. My own father has some, as my childhood will attest, and he is now on his second Human wife. He believes that he is quite neutral and unbiased, but he is not. He loved me, he loved my mother, this I now know … but his unquestioned assumptions and biases prevented him from protecting me and advocating for me as he ought. Sevakis has those same assumptions and biases, but I believe she is more willing to examine them without assuming that she already knows the answer."

Nyota listened to this. He might be right. Prejudiced, but willing to work through it, might be the best they could find. If that were the case … then what? Did she really want to have her children raised in that environment?

She wasn't the one getting married. She would never be the one getting married. She wasn't the one who was going to have a stranger sitting in the back of her head. She could walk away at any time. She could change her mind and choose not to have children with Spock; even after they were born, if she didn't like the way they were being treated, she could take up a post in the defense center here and raise them herself, or on one of the Vulcan colonies, or on any planet with a decent-sized Vulcan embassy. She had options, a lot more options than Spock had. That's the whole reason they were doing it this way, so that she would have as many options as possible.

She didn't like this, but then there wasn't much about the whole situation that she did like, truly, and she'd decided that Spock was worth it. And if she ever wanted to change her mind, she could.

"And you believe that Sevakis will shield our kids from the worst of the bigotry, and provide a safe and supportive environment for them to grow?" Nyota asked.

"I believe she is more likely to do so than my father did," Spock said.

"And you believe that she'll be willing to work with us to create a family home we can all live with?" Nyota asked.

"Yes," Spock said.

"And you think you won't mind being bonded to her?"

"I would not," Spock said.

"Then I have no objections," Nyota said. "If you think she's the one, it's your choice."

***

The next day Sevakis sought out Toval before classes again. With quick efficiency, he reported how the classes he had covered for her had gone. That done, he sat back and waited for her own story.

"I have been offered a potential match with Spock, son of Sarek, son of Skon, of the House of Surak."

Toval raised an eyebrow. "What an honor," he said flatly. He knew as well as anyone did, of course, that there must be some reason why she, of all women, had been offered it.

"He has a Human paramour," Sevakis said. "Whom he will not be marrying. But with whom he is planning to have children. Children who would then be raised by his wife." She suppressed the jealousy she felt at the Human woman's freedom. There was no point to it; their circumstances were much different, and it could only cloud Sevakis' judgment. Clearly, this was something she would need to meditate further on, particularly if she accepted the offer.

"How … novel," Toval said. "And if he can find a Human he likes, why should he take one of the few Vulcan women left single? It seems greedy."

"I am not sure that marrying a Vulcan is his own desire," Sevakis admitted. It had not come up, even in the meld. "He is half-Human himself, you know. I am sure his father would prefer that the Vulcan heritage prevails in his son's line. Especially as Sarek has, yet again, married a Human woman himself."

Toval nodded judiciously. A generation of Human—or other alien—blood was something that many Vulcans now had to accept. Two might be too many. "A husband, a father-in-law and his wife, a paramour," he said. "That will be quite a large family." His tone was almost wistful. On Vulcan, before the Devastation, it would have been shocking in its smallness. But here, now, after Nero, it was an embarrassment of riches.

That, more than anything else, was what Sevakis wanted. And it was what Toval was most denied by his status and the shortage of Vulcan women. "If I marry the Surak heir, you will always be welcome in our home," Sevakis said.

"You cannot make that promise unilaterally," Toval said.

"There is nothing to object to in you," Sevakis said. "And …" she thought about how the Human woman, Nyota Uhura, had been concerned about Sevakis' own desires. "And I think that they will wish for me to have as much contentment as I may."

"A good sign," Toval said.

"Yes," Sevakis said. She still didn't know if she could be an adequate mother and stepmother to hybrid children, given what she now knew. But was it really possible to know such a thing until you tried?

She had been alone for so long. She didn't want to be alone any longer. Spock was a good, intelligent man, and he came with a family ready-made. And his Human paramour seemed to be tolerable. Her decision was made, she realized.

***

Once they'd gotten Sevakis' reply through Lady V'Lar, Nyota steeled herself for the next task: discussing it with Sarek, who was on his way back to Vulcan after a diplomatic conference. They didn't have to tell him themselves, of course; V'Lar had handled that. But they did have to talk about it.

It was fairly simple to connect a call through to Sarek, although Spock took time to meditate first. Nyota didn't blame him; conversations with his father, especially held over subspace where they couldn't feel one another telepathically, tended to be … fraught.

When the call connected, Nyota brightened. Kamala was there, sitting next to Sarek, glowing with pregnancy. Although Kamala was a point of friction (Spock was having trouble with the idea of a stepmother, however necessary), she was also levelheaded and quite willing to point out when people were being unreasonable, and Nyota liked her.

"I presume you have been informed of my upcoming betrothal?" Spock said, as soon as the greetings were out of the way.

"I have," Sarek said. "I do not question your logic or your choices, however … I would appreciate an explication of them." Which was about as close to criticism as he could get without being outright rude, by Vulcan standards, and Nyota could feel from how Spock tensed up next to her that he was taking it as offensive anyway.

"Sevakis is competent, respectable, and gifted in her field," Spock said, in that perfectly even tone he only used when he was angry, "and if her education and background are not as prestigious as some of the other candidates, her understanding of the situation and family dynamics are far greater."

"Of course," Sarek said, "but I find it curious V'Lar was not able to find anyone of a more suitable background whose understanding proved … acceptable."

"Well, there was at least one," Nyota said, "but she chose someone else." She shrugged.

"We were quite open to the possibility that any of the candidates might prove suitable, Father," Spock said. "Unfortunately, the reverse did not often prove to be true."

"Nevertheless, there will probably be some ill-will resulting from your choice, which will affect my position in the High Council," Sarek said. "Lady V'Lar should have taken that into consideration in her suggestions. It does not reflect well on her, either." As a man, he had no say in the marriage of his child, though if Amanda had lived, she would have worked with V'Lar to vet potential brides. Apparently Sarek's thoughts were going in a similar direction, because he turned to Kamala. "We should have insisted that you participate," he said. "It is your right as matriarch of the House."

Nyota winced. Kamala was, technically, the matriarch of the house. She was also Human, under thirty years of age (if only barely), and still learning Vulcan culture. V'Lar would not have been happy, and Nyota shuddered to think how much harder she would have been to work with.

"The political ramifications will be temporary," Spock said sharply. Where Nyota saw a slight of V'Lar's ability, Spock apparently saw a dig at his own choices. "And while the shaping of the new homeworld is important, the stability of your grandchildren's home and the care of their guardians are of far greater significance."

Sarek opened his mouth to respond, but Kamala grabbed his hand. He looked at her.

"Sarek," she said. "Your son is getting married." She smiled, but it was a smile with teeth.

Sarek blinked several times before turning back to the screen. "May V'Haltrel bless your bonding, and may T'Pallek and S'kerhon bring harmony to the House."

Nyota and Spock made the appropriate ritual responses (she had been surprised, at first, to learn that there were appropriate ritual responses for the mistress to make in just about any situation). Nyota pushed down a slight uneasiness at the invoking of other gods. She hadn't been to a Quaker meeting since reaching adulthood, and she never prayed or read the Bible; it wasn't like she was much of a Christian, and in any case, this was part of the decision to have Vulcan children. They'd learn about Jesus, but as one household god among many. On an intellectual level, she had no problem with that. She needed to work on making sure it didn't stop at the intellectual level.

Sevakis wasn't the only one facing a conflict between gut reactions and what she needed to go forward as a part of the family.

"I am sure Sevakis has many admirable qualities, and will be a credit to our House," Sarek said.

"I believe she will," Spock said stiffly.

After a few more platitudes on both sides, Nyota stepped in with questions about how the summit had gone, which they were all interested in, and things flowed more easily from there.

Once the call was over, Spock got up and walked out. Nyota thought about talking to him, but she'd decided long ago that she wasn't going to get into the middle of the longstanding mess between him and his father. They could figure it out themselves, or not. They could definitely benefit from family counseling, she'd thought that for a while, but it would be hard to arrange with them so seldom on the same planet. And now they'd have another person to add to the mix, and children very shortly—first Sarek and Kamala's, then Spock's with Sevakis and Nyota.

Maybe things would go better. Maybe there would be more balance with more people to serve as a buffer. Or maybe things would get worse and they'd have to figure out the counselling thing long-distance.

Nyota sighed. Family was complicated.

***

Sevakis brought Toval when she went to meet her future father-in-law and see the house. It was not proper—she should have brought women with her—but she had no close women friends left alive, and she would definitely need support to meet with the head of the House of Surak.

"You fret needlessly," Toval observed as they took time for Sevakis to gather herself before walking up to the door. "You are his son's choice, a match suggested by his Eldest Mother, and if he wishes a tranquil household he will not wish to cause trouble."

Sevakis narrowed her eyes at Toval. This was true, but it was hardly helpful. She had not had such trouble with the Disciplines since the first days and weeks after the Devastation. "I know," she said.

She stared at the building in front of her. She, Sevakis, daughter of Supar, daughter of V’Hal, last (for now) of the House of Tokel, was going to marry a son of the House of Surak; the heir, no less. Her parents would have been so proud.

If her parents were still alive, if the Devastation had never happened, it would never have happened. And she would give anything to have them back. But that was impossible, and it was illogical to dwell on might-have-beens. This was her future.

She took a slow breath, and let it out, one of the earliest disciplines a child learned. She walked forward.

Next Fic:

Children of the Desert

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