Chapter Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. All original works belong to their respective authors. Many thanks to the creative geniuses Mark Twain, Henry David Thoreau, Rene Descartes, and Pablo Neruda.
Chapter One - Fog
"The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco," Commander Spock ruefully considered the words of Terran writer, Mark Twain, as he bunched the high collar of his Starfleet issue winter coat more tightly about his neck. Half Moon Bay, a mere 40 kilometers from San Francisco, was an ideal location for cadets to practice shuttle landings on amphibious terrain. The scarlet gaggle of cadets scurrying across the charcoal gray sand mostly consisted of third year cadets – and some rather ambitious second years. Summer sessions were optional, but strongly encouraged to ensure advancement. 'July,' he thought wryly, 'is usually considered a summer month in North America.' It was only 15 Celsius.
Even in the late afternoon, steely fog clung to the shoreline, smothering the daylight in its embrace. Ethereal cascades of pallid wisps veiled the sharp, threatening cliffs to the north and south of the crescent-shaped bay. Henry David Thoreau would have happily resigned himself to the dangerous beauty.
There was some concern shared among the officers regarding the safety of the cadets in the deceptively peaceful bay. Generally summer sessions were lighthearted, and this supplemental course on Applied Tactics, would normally be the same. Spock, mused however, today would not be one to let his guard down. He listened with tentative enthusiasm to the trilling cadet excitement below. He wrestled once more over why he was really here on this weekend "field trip" as one cadet humorously observed. Glancing again to a growing cluster of indigo clouds on the horizon, Spock resumed his attentive watch of the tiny figures busy on the beach. There were seventy cadets – one cadet company leader, three squad leaders, three flagmen and sixty three underclassmen – all accounted for.
From his elevated vantage point on the time-worn boardwalk, the Commander observed eager cadets scurry in and out of the decommissioned shuttles scattered across the beach. They reminded him of small flocks of cranes inanely coursing in and away from each other. Hands clasped behind his back, he stood rigidly, and the breeze tugging defiantly at uniform contrasted with his otherwise stilled form. A dark, motionless figure, Spock looked like a sentinel guarding a precious treasure, while tourists – and the rest of the world – seemed to pass in brilliant streaking blurs. The heavy thunder of standard issue combat boots produced the most curious, high octave ring against the alloy of the access ramps. A ruffling gust of wind tugged at his coat hem aggressively, and Spock began to wonder why he even volunteered to supervise this exercise. The cool air crept across his once warmed skin, stealing the breath from his lungs momentarily. Heavy drops of mist had begun to rest on his shoulders and nose.
A musical laugh carried across the sand on a whirlwind, and Spock's ears perked in response. The delightful notes were familiar; a tiny smile spread across his lips. Toppled beside a shuttle access ramp, two female students, limbs entangled from the fall, laughed and pushed each other jovially. 'Perhaps I should attend to them,' he thought, 'to ensure no serious injury.' Spock fought back the nagging thought reminding him there were competent medics on standby for such an incident. He was the Officer in Charge, however, surely it was his responsibility to guarantee the safety of the cadets under his command. He descended the stone steps gracefully to the soggy sand below, his eyes never leaving the source of laughter.
The two cadets had already pulled themselves to their feet by the time Spock reached his destination. Dark clumps of wet sand and masses of long, damp hair clung to the young women. He stood in awe, never before seeing them behave so casually. Stiffly he asked, "Are you injured?" The laughing stopped as abruptly as glass shattering upon concrete, and he was greeted by wide-eyed salutes. "No, sir," they responded shakily. "At ease, cadets," Spock suddenly was aware of his tangible presence, having forgotten himself from his previously discrete vantage point.
He allowed himself three-point-one seconds to enjoy this oddly familiar scene. Nyota Uhura and Gaila Boeotia were adept cadets, entering their third year, had been enrolled in his xenolinguistics courses the previous semester. On several instances, Cadet Uhura had fallen victim to collisions with Cadet Boeotia, resulting from the latter's sudden and abrupt halt to observe a male cadet. This was likely the cause of today's mishap as well. He generally considered Cadet Boeotia to be a rather undisciplined, silly young woman – but no more than his other Orion students. The whole of Orion culture seemed to defy his Vulcan sensibilities; it wasn't an opinion so much as an observation.
It seemed shocking that Cadet Uhura would share a domicile with such a student; a familiar face in the language laboratory, Spock had taken pleasure in many conversations with Nyota. He sighed inwardly at the unprofessional, albeit silent, interjection of her given name. They had grown rather comfortable within the sanctuary of their friendship; he enjoyed it so much Spock worried his thoughts might one day betray both of them by revealing his less than professional desires for her.
Now, staring at the mess of wet hair and rumbled uniforms before him, Spock forcefully suppressed the urge to reach out and push the heavy locks hanging haphazardly over Nyota's face. He blinked twice, wrenching himself out of his momentary stupor, realizing the Orion was addressing him, "Sir, it was my fault, I was…distracted." While in general she seemed a bit of a dreamer, Cadet Boeotia seemed like a good natured woman and nevertheless received high accolades in the Computer Science Department: attributes he could respect. "If no damage has been done, then I believe the Terran phrase is, "accidents happen," Spock saw no reason to reprimand them at this time. "However, I do think it appropriate that you both return to your loggings for clean attire; we should always do our best to represent Starfleet respectfully, especially as we are away from campus," Spock added. Gesturing their dismissal, he said, "Please be sure to join the rest of the cadets for dinner at 1630 hours."
As the women turned to leave the beach, Spock caught Nyota glancing up at him. He lost himself in the trance of her gaze; her eyes were so dark but the tiny flecks of glinting amber light told of hidden secrets. He wondered if this is how Terran sailors felt, their eyes falling upon sirens before coming to an untimely end. Illogically he considered how much she reminded him of the devastatingly beautiful goddesses depicted in the wide breadth of mythology he had read. According the texts, men all over the galaxy had found themselves lost in their love for unobtainable women.
"Professor, perhaps you would like to share your thoughts on the newest volume of the Romulan Linguistic Quarterly Journal after dinner? We have free time this evening," Cadet Uhura requested. "Yes, I believe that would be enjoyable," Spock responded without hesitation. Watching them disappear into the settling fog, the Commander realized he had not felt the chill of the coastal winds for several minutes. 'Fascinating,' he thought to himself. His internal clock indicated that the exercise would be coming to an end shortly. Spock looked over the sea of red uniforms once more, and then turned in the direction of the hotel. 'Perhaps this weekend excursion would be worth the cold, gray weather after all,' he thought, slowly coursing his way over the heavy, dark sand. As his foot met the first step, Spock heard the cadet leaders call their squads to "attention."