~*~*~*~*~
"Ha!" Sulu's shout of triumph rang out across the recreation deck. His companions threw their cards down in disgust as the helmsman collected his winnings. "That's five credits from you, Doc, and seven from the Captain..."
Kirk scowled good-naturedly as he handed over his money. "I find it hard to believe you learned to play this game yesterday, Mr. Sulu."
"Believe it," McCoy grumbled as he gathered the cards and chips. "Rigellian Wormhole took me years to master, and he won after five minutes of practice!"
Sulu grinned as Chekov handed him a handful of credit-tokens. The young Russian shook his head sadly. "That's the last of my vages, Sulu."
"Sorry, Chekov," the Asian replied, somewhat contritely. "But next Friday is payday. You'll have plenty of credits to lose."
There was a string of curses in Russian, and a friendly scuffle ensued. Kirk leaned back in his chair as he and McCoy watched the two young men wrestle.
"It's nice to relax once in a while, isn't it, Bones?" the Captain remarked. The doctor nodded, watching the horseplay with a wry smile.
"I'll bet you four credits that Sulu takes him down."
Kirk shook his head. "All right, Bones, but I think you'll be sorry. Chekov's tougher than he looks." He saw a familiar face pass by the rec. hall doors. "Mr. Spock!" he called.
Spock crossed the room in several strides, his long-legged gait allowing him to walk calmly at speed equal to another man's run
"Yes, Captain?"
"Why don't you join us, Spock?" Kirk gestured to the chair next to him. "I've got four credits on Chekov. Care to place a bet?"
The Vulcan raised an elegant eyebrow as Sulu jumped a chair to avoid a sucker punch. "I do not." He held up the PADD in his hand. "I have a report to finish on the ion storm phenomenon. If you will excuse me, Captain, Doctor." With a respectful nod to both men, he turned and strode toward the doors.
McCoy sighed. "That Spock. He's about as much fun as a Calculus exam."
Jim laughed. "He's just efficient, that's all. The rest of us would do well to learn from his example." Just as he finished speaking, Sulu called out laughingly, "All right, Pavel! I give up!"
Chekov took his knee off the other man's chest and offered him a hand. "You know, Sulu, wrestling vas a Russian inwention."
Sulu groaned. "Just like the rest of the universe, I'm sure."
The captain happily collected his credit-chips. "No fair," McCoy muttered. "Sulu was being easy on him."
*****
Spock reclined on his couch, stroking the smooth wood of his harp.
It was a family heirloom, worth as much in sentimental value as it was in money. But its most redeeming feature was not its worth, nor its aesthetically beautiful exterior. It was the music that could be created by graceful fingers on the strings.
At the age of seven Spock performed a concerto for his mother that brought her to tears. He gave several public performances in his later years, which she did not attend for fear of disgracing herself before her husband's people.
Spock was most at ease while making music. The harp said for him what he could not, safely releasing the emotions that he himself would not dare to recognize.
But he did not feel like playing now. He recalled his captains' invitation in the recreation room, then looked over at the PADD on his desk. He had not lied - there was a report he had to finish - but it was not due for several weeks. In truth, he did not know why he had turned down his friend's offer. Now he felt lost; his room seemed so big, so empty. He closed his eyes and began to meditate, trying to alleviate the uneasy feeling tugging at the corners of his mind.
I am a stranger in a strange land.
The biblical verse surfaced in his memory, burning itself into his consciousness. He knew what he was, though, ashamed, he did not want to acknowledge it. He was lonely.
"Ha!" Sulu's shout of triumph rang out across the recreation deck. His companions threw their cards down in disgust as the helmsman collected his winnings. "That's five credits from you, Doc, and seven from the Captain..."
Kirk scowled good-naturedly as he handed over his money. "I find it hard to believe you learned to play this game yesterday, Mr. Sulu."
"Believe it," McCoy grumbled as he gathered the cards and chips. "Rigellian Wormhole took me years to master, and he won after five minutes of practice!"
Sulu grinned as Chekov handed him a handful of credit-tokens. The young Russian shook his head sadly. "That's the last of my vages, Sulu."
"Sorry, Chekov," the Asian replied, somewhat contritely. "But next Friday is payday. You'll have plenty of credits to lose."
There was a string of curses in Russian, and a friendly scuffle ensued. Kirk leaned back in his chair as he and McCoy watched the two young men wrestle.
"It's nice to relax once in a while, isn't it, Bones?" the Captain remarked. The doctor nodded, watching the horseplay with a wry smile.
"I'll bet you four credits that Sulu takes him down."
Kirk shook his head. "All right, Bones, but I think you'll be sorry. Chekov's tougher than he looks." He saw a familiar face pass by the rec. hall doors. "Mr. Spock!" he called.
Spock crossed the room in several strides, his long-legged gait allowing him to walk calmly at speed equal to another man's run
"Yes, Captain?"
"Why don't you join us, Spock?" Kirk gestured to the chair next to him. "I've got four credits on Chekov. Care to place a bet?"
The Vulcan raised an elegant eyebrow as Sulu jumped a chair to avoid a sucker punch. "I do not." He held up the PADD in his hand. "I have a report to finish on the ion storm phenomenon. If you will excuse me, Captain, Doctor." With a respectful nod to both men, he turned and strode toward the doors.
McCoy sighed. "That Spock. He's about as much fun as a Calculus exam."
Jim laughed. "He's just efficient, that's all. The rest of us would do well to learn from his example." Just as he finished speaking, Sulu called out laughingly, "All right, Pavel! I give up!"
Chekov took his knee off the other man's chest and offered him a hand. "You know, Sulu, wrestling vas a Russian inwention."
Sulu groaned. "Just like the rest of the universe, I'm sure."
The captain happily collected his credit-chips. "No fair," McCoy muttered. "Sulu was being easy on him."
*****
Spock reclined on his couch, stroking the smooth wood of his harp.
It was a family heirloom, worth as much in sentimental value as it was in money. But its most redeeming feature was not its worth, nor its aesthetically beautiful exterior. It was the music that could be created by graceful fingers on the strings.
At the age of seven Spock performed a concerto for his mother that brought her to tears. He gave several public performances in his later years, which she did not attend for fear of disgracing herself before her husband's people.
Spock was most at ease while making music. The harp said for him what he could not, safely releasing the emotions that he himself would not dare to recognize.
But he did not feel like playing now. He recalled his captains' invitation in the recreation room, then looked over at the PADD on his desk. He had not lied - there was a report he had to finish - but it was not due for several weeks. In truth, he did not know why he had turned down his friend's offer. Now he felt lost; his room seemed so big, so empty. He closed his eyes and began to meditate, trying to alleviate the uneasy feeling tugging at the corners of his mind.
I am a stranger in a strange land.
The biblical verse surfaced in his memory, burning itself into his consciousness. He knew what he was, though, ashamed, he did not want to acknowledge it. He was lonely.