The two humanoid females entering Six Lucas Prime with arms linked and heads pressed together had fine enough figures to turn many heads. The one on the right was approximately one hundred sixty-four centimeters tall with a build that was both fit and curvaceous. Her companion was only slightly taller, with more slender hips and a more ample bosom. Indeed, several of 6LP's patron's stared at the doorway as they passed through. But the two women were so clearly absorbed by one another even the boldest of the tavern's resident contingent of pick-up artists gave up before trying.
Hiding all outward signs of her amusement as Lortho — usually the most persistent of the lascivious lot — sank dejectedly into his seat at the bar, the tall woman sitting at a corner table lifted her drink and took a small sip. Watching out for the visitors to Starbase 47 wasn't part of her job description, but it didn't hurt for the denizens to know the second highest-ranking Starfleet Officer assigned to the facility had her eye on them.
Not that it was a perfect solution. As the only official Federation outpost for parsecs, the starbase was frequently full of new faces. There'd be other, easier, prey soon enough. The commander shrugged her shoulders at the thought. What happened at 6LP when she wasn't there wasn't her problem.
She'd just taken another, deeper, draft when the sound of feminine laughter caught her ear. The two newcomers had settled at a table along the wall just to her left. She hadn't even heard them approach. Shoving down a spurt of annoyance at her lack of vigilance — it was beyond time to get off this tiny little rock before all of her reflexes atrophied — she tried to take comfort in the knowledge that Gaal, the two-point-three-meter, one hundred fifteen kilogram barkeep usually kept his establishment's peace well enough.
It didn't work; she found herself surreptitiously examining the couple, anyway.
The one facing her was immediately recognizable.
That's odd, she mused. I didn't think Uhura went for females.
As the thought crossed her mind, Uhura reached over and stroked the other woman's face gently, anomalously crying out at the same time, "But that's wonderful!"
There was a moment of silence while both women seemed to bask in mutual happiness. Then the tender gesture was discarded in favor of a more enthusiastic display that better matched Uhura's ebullient voice.
In seconds, she was out her seat and around the little table, lifting the other woman into a crushing embrace and spinning her in a circle.
"That's wonderful!" she repeated.
Unable to maintain her silence in the face of such obvious joy, their observer let out a quiet chuckle.
"Uhura," she called, causing the woman to spin to a stop. "It looks as if you and your friend have something to celebrate. Let me buy you a drink!"
Grinning widely, Uhura set the other woman back on her feet. She winked over her friend's shoulder. "Thank you, Commander Paraklis. I accept!"
Already extending a hand in greeting, her companion turned in Uhura's loosened grip. Her brilliant smile faltered the moment she completed the circle. It looked like she might have lurched if it hadn't been for the strong arms around her waist.
"Gods!" she exclaimed, her arm falling to her side, hand curling into a fist. "For a moment there I thought I was seeing a doppelganger, but your hair is so dark… They don't have souls, you know. Doppelgangers."
"You'll have to excuse my cousin, Commander," Uhura announced after aiming a look of alarm at the woman in question. Seeing the wry smile the cousin displayed, she shook her head in embarrassment. "Nyota's been a little strange ever since she started dating a Vulcan. Now that they're getting married, she's clearly lost her mind."
The commander allowed her own smile to grow at the revelation. Watching out for visitors to 6LP was not in her job description; knowing every ship currently utilizing base facilities was. "It was my experience, Lieutenant Uhura," she told the young woman who was in the process of extricating herself from Ajia Uhura's hold, "that Spock was often in danger of driving his colleagues insane. I imagine as his intended, you frequently find yourself in even greater peril."
She watched as the lieutenant's defensive posture eased. It was gratifying to see her tilt her head much like her fiancé was wont to do, before finally throwing it back and laughing heartily, while her cousin stood by, looking increasingly concerned.
.
Uhura was fascinated— whenever she was able to take her focus off the face in front of her and listen to what was being said. She'd given up trying to convince Ajia she wasn't two Draylaxian whiskey sours away from ripping their hostess's throat out three drinks ago. Instead, she'd given all her attention to Spock's former mentor.
No matter how many times her cousin's sharp elbow met her ribs, Commander Paraklis retained her numerical moniker in the privacy of Uhura's mind. "Number One" was turning out to be everything Spock had claimed, and more.
Like her strong-to-the-point-of-creepy resemblance to a certain nurse who'd almost ruined Nyota's first night with Spock. That much, he'd never mentioned.
Chapel's doppelganger described her work on the base with meticulous precision. "But I'm more than ready for another shipside assignment," she admitted.
A fresh burst of guilt reminded Uhura that she had no issues with the other woman. Just with that sneaky, half-truth telling Vul—
The interrogative inflection in Number One's voice — and Ajia's booted foot colliding with her ankle — ripped her out of her most recent reverie.
"Pardon me, Commander," she said, ashamed to have let her mind drift again. "I didn't hear the question."
The twitching lips reminded her of Spock. She wondered if he'd picked that up from his mentor. Another thing he'd never said and she'd never thought to ask.
"I asked why Spock did not accompany you."
"Oh, you know him." She rolled her eyes. "Nothing short of an order can convince him to take shore leave.
"In fact, this time he told me, 'As the events of my last enforced leave resulted in our betrothal, I should think that you would not be eager for me to take another one so soon. Especially if your cousin is as… charming as you have reported her to be.' I almost didn't let him get away with that, but when he teased with 'if your cousin is as charming as you purport her to be…'" A raised eyebrow — the gesture undoubtedly picked up from her fiancé — mocked that particular assessment of Ajia Uhura. "Well, I never can resist him when he allows himself to have a little bit of fun."
Greatly amused, the Ilyrian woman smiled faintly. "It's good to hear he remembers that it's possible to enjoy himself."
A hazy sensation that nothing to do with the three Drayaxian whiskey sours she'd consumed washed over Uhura. She glanced down at the table and smiled a little dreamily.
"He talks about you all the time, you know," she said, looking up. "Well, what passes for 'all the time' when you're dealing with Spock."
Uhura laughed at the understanding she saw in the commander's eyes. Number One joined her. Ajia let out a sigh of relief and squeezed her cousin's hand in approval.
Buoyed by the booze and the sense solidarity with another woman who knew Spock so well, she suddenly pulled her fingers free and leaned forward. Clasping Number One's hands, she said, "You should come and see him!"
She too busy wondering at the Ilyrian's suddenly frozen face to see Ajia's look of alarm.
"Is this about the crush," she wanted to know, too amped on alcohol for her usual discretion. "Because if this is about the crush, don't worry. He's fine now. You have to come see him!"
Charmed in spite of her reservations, Number One found herself smiling and squeezing the lovely young woman's hands. The invitation was tempting. She'd stayed informed about her protégé's career over the years, but that couldn't compare with seeing him again. Not for the first time, she wondered if it had been a mistake not to stay in contact.
She thought back to the moment, so many years ago, went she'd disappointed him for the first and last time. Watching his emerging amiability sink back behind the façade of Vulcan reserve had been disheartening. But at the time, it had seemed the lesser of two evils.
Spock had chosen to live as a Vulcan long before they'd ever met. She'd been certain that it was only her Ilyrian upbringing, in a culture that was as close as humans ever came to Vulcan adherence to logic, that let her get past him defenses and encourage him to explore his human heritage.
After she'd made it clear that he did not meet her romantic preferences, he'd stopped. The change had come quickly. One day, he had been smiling over new discoveries and engaging his colleagues in small talk, even able to laugh off the occasional cultural misunderstanding. The next day, the day after she'd been forced to acknowledge his feelings for her — and reject them as gently as she could — the mask had returned.
Understanding that he had retreated to familiar ground in the wake of his hurt, she hadn't pressed him at first. Later, she'd decided that perhaps his decision had been a wise choice. While it was painful to see him so isolated, she'd told herself that as a Vulcan, he would be safer.
Meeting this vivacious human woman who spoke of Spock with so much love Number One could almost feel it, she wondered if she was wrong.
Perhaps she had disappointed him twice.
There was an easy way to find out.
"I've always had trouble saying no to a beautiful woman," she replied. "Give me a day to take care of business here and make arrangements with your captain."
Nyota Uhura aimed a winning smile in her direction.
Spock, Number One thought, is a lucky Vulcan.
.
.
Taking care of business ended up taking two days. Not because Number One's superior officer couldn't spare her; rather, it was more a case of her stalling, finding one task after another to delay her departure.
"Go, Paraklis," Commodore Tedeschi finally barked claimed decided to personally review the inventory of supplies requested by one Leonard Horatio McCoy. "You can take all that damned medical shit with you."
Tedeschi was generally easy to work with. Straightforward and efficient, he ran the base without a noticeable absence of the bureaucracy (and corruption) that plagued many other Federation outposts. But he refused to bend on anything he thought might interfere with the comfort and safety of either his staff or of visitors.
One of his pet projects was what he called his subordinates' "mental comfort." Something he was adamant that Starbase 47's many entertainments couldn't nourish.
The commodore liked to quip, "Out here in the middle of nowhere, you need a vacation from everyone else's vacation."
As far as he was concerned, Hrista Paraklis was more than a month overdue for a leave.
"That was an order," he added, just in case the most astute officer he'd ever met hadn't gotten that on her own.
Number One knew better than to argue with Tedeschi once his mind was made up. "Aye, sir," she said, then went to her quarters to pack.
.
.
Spock held himself still. Though he was hard-pressed to ignore Nyota's movements (minor, but repetitive and unnecessary), experience suggested that chiding her for such behavior, or even questioning, was not conducive to his continued contentment. He was forced to acknowledge that the current arrangement of her facial muscles — a reliable indication of her emotional state — did not point toward any sort of emotional distress. While as long as he could not detect anything other than excited anticipation in her demeanor, there was no need to risk being banished from her bed for the night.
She looked up at him just as he completed the thought, almost as if she had been sharing his thoughts and was approving the logic of his conclusion. He banished that illogical conjecture from his mind. They would not share thoughts outside a mind meld until the bonding.
Just the idea of becoming one with Nyota was cause enough for him to allow a small smile in return. The more intimate relationship may have begun with his (illogical! unprecedented!) attempt to challenge the lieutenant, but he could not deny the victory had been hers in the end. There was little he would refuse her.
"You won't regret agreeing to this," she whispered, again as if she knew his thoughts.
"Regret is a human emotion," he reminded her, but in truth he said it to remind himself that his commitment to the woman at his side did not negate his obligation to live as a Vulcan.
Then he spoiled it all by reaching out and wrapping his fingers around hers, letting his love and devotion mingle with the excited anticipation she was experiencing.
"Signal received, Commander," the transporter technician called from behind them. Something in the young crewman's voice sounded suspiciously like amusement. "Beaming one aboard. Several packages to follow immediately."
And then the transporter pad was awash with fluctuating lights, a form materializing in their midst.
Three seconds later, Spock looked into the eyes of his former mentor for the first time in sixteen years, four months and eighteen days, Old Earth Time.
"Spock," said Number One as she stepped down from the pad.
"Commander," he replied.
.
.
"It's uncanny," Uhura whispered. "I knew I was right."
Spock stood next to her amid the well-coordinated bustle of Medical Bay, hands behind his back in his usual pose. He peered at the two women across the room. Shaking his head one, he turned to his betrothed. "I fail to see the similarities, beloved, " he murmured.
Nyota gaped at him for a moment before she clamped her mouth closed. Her eyes were bright with suppressed laughter.
After only ten point six seconds — a record for her — she regained enough control of herself to say, "Baby, hand that woman a bottle of peroxide or slap a black wig on Christine and even you won't know who's who!"
"I assure you, Nyota, I most certainly would."
Most people would have inferred indignation from such a response — Dr. McCoy would even had teased him for "showing his human side" — Uhura knew Spock well enough to realize neither were at work.
Spock really didn't see the resemblance between his former superior officer and the nurse who had been chasing him around the ship for the past four years.
She patted his arm in mock reassurance.
"That's okay, sugar," she teased. "But while we're here, maybe you should see Dr. McCoy about your fading eyesight."
A/N: Unlike in most of my fics, Spock and Uhura will be mostly supporting characters in this. This is, however, a follow-up to the events that occurred in Blame It On Gados.
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, any of its character or any of its concepts. I'm just borrowing them for no profit at all.