Soldiers, Brave and Proud
"Ensign Gru Bonjett."
Spock turned slightly to swiftly scan the room as a sprinkling of polite applause filled the small meeting hall on the Enterprises' fifth deck and a young, pale-blue haired woman moved to the center of the low stage. The disruption ebbed as Admiral Lighter continued to read off the names of those being honored that afternoon.
"Major Francisco Sales Perez."
Again, the crowd offered their appreciation as a second man, older this time, stepped forward in recognition. The ceremony itself was nothing fancy; pulled together at the last minute as the Enterprise remained docked in orbit around Brio-Prime. The guests of honor were eight men and women who had been selected the previous month for a last-minute diplomatic mission aimed at quelling tensions between the Hyratic and Grumbian people of Phylon 6. The crew had been en route to negotiations there when a navigation malfunction had forced them to set down on one of Phylon's larger moons. The violent confrontation that ensued between the shuttle's small crew and a contingent of the moon's previously unknown and understandably non-plussed population had cost four Star Fleet members their lives. That figure would have almost certainly been tripled, Spock thought wryly, had it not been for his wife.
Just as the thought occurred to him, the speaker cleared her throat delicately and took a small pause before continuing.
"And, the admiralty would like to extend a special commendation, and its sincerest thanks, to Lt. Nyota Uhura, whose quick thinking and unflinching bravery, in the face of extreme danger, will continue to stand as an example to all others of honorable service, above and beyond the call of duty."
As Nyota left her place at the far end of the dais the room erupted in enthusiastic applause. Spock held his breath; recalling those few panicked minutes on the bridge when he did not know whether he would ever see her again. Sensing his fear, Nyota's warm brown eyes alighted briefly on her husband's face before connecting with the admiral's and accepting the other woman's hand in thanks. Turning towards the assemblage, Nyota's smile was reserved, in remembrance of those who would never again join them here, as she allowed the small bronze star to be pinned to her chest.
From his position on the front row, Spock felt his own chest swell as the tiny hand he held tugged down gently to draw his attention. Stooping slightly; he lifted his son into his arms.
"Mama!" The little fair-skinned boy shouted; gesturing to the woman on stage and eliciting a few knowing chuckles. At the sound of her son's voice Nyota immediately looked in his direction; smiling softly and offering a subtle, silent plea to remember his inside voice.
"Yes Bakari. That is your mother." Spock whispered close to his son's highly arched ear in Vulcan; trying not to be heard over the admiral's parting address. "And we are very proud of her. But we must keep our voices down."
Bakari nodded silently and clapped his hands in delight as the rest of the audience joined him in their applause at the culmination of the ceremony. Seconds later Nyota was at their side, reaching for her son.
"Hey, baby! Did you miss me?" She asked in Kishwali, kissing Bakari's chubby cheeks.
"Eeh!" He squealed launching himself at his mother; hugging her head and placing a sloppy, open-mouthed baby-kiss on her eye. "Proud, mama! Proud!!" Bakari shouted in slightly accented Standard Vulcan.
Nyota laughed at her offspring's boundless exuberance. He was such a smart and expressive child. When they had visited her own mother three months ago, the older woman had marveled at how much like Nyota he was when his mother had been at that age. As they stood there, in the waning light, watching Bakari talk to the deep brown earth in his grandparents' front yard, Nyota had squeezed her mom's hand as the older woman wiped away a happy tear.
Now, pulling back to have a better look at the little person her husband and she had made together, Nyota was again overcome by the wonder and promise written all over his adorable little face. The idea that she had very nearly missed this moment with him making her squeeze him tight.
"Are you proud of your mommy?" She asked again in her mother tongue, brushing Bakari's dark auburn curls from his forehead.
"He is." Spock answered, running one hand up his son's back and brining the other to gently cup his wife's bare elbow. "I am quite proud of his mother, as well." Spock continued; letting the gaze he rested on Nyota's partially down-turned face reflect his sincere affection and admiration.
Turning towards her husband, Nyota's expression was somber but her eyes sparkled with mischief.
"I'm sure she was only doing her job, Commander." She replied in Standard Vulcan.
"Certainly. But that fact does not preclude expressions of appreciation for her many talents and abilities." Spock rejoined good-naturedly; taking note of the honorific tense she used with him and the genuine humility he detected through where his fingertips came into contact with her cool, cinnamon-colored flesh.
"Why, Spock," Nyota questioned; her eyes dancing with mirth. "Are you saying that you think I am good at what I do?"
Vulcan was not a language of love or seduction; Spock was well aware. But if it were possible to make that collection of otherwise completely benign words sound 'racy' or 'coquettish' his wife had just accomplished it.
Pulling her closer to him and dropping his voice down a register he slipped into his native dialect as the crowd continued to thin around them.
"You of all people, Lieutenant, should be very familiar with how…deeply…I appreciate your talents and abilities." Spock purred, brushing a curl past her ear and briefly tracing the outer shell with his fingertip. "However, if you desire further proof, I would be more than happy to oblige." He offered, touching one pale finger to the sensitive pulse-point on her neck. Nyota's gaze dropped to the floor momentarily as a shiver skated across her skin before meeting her lover's gaze once more.
This time her smile was all for him.
Looking first at his father and then at his mother, Bakari couldn't understand what they were saying but it was becoming alarmingly apparent to him that they were beginning to lose sight of what was really important.
"Eat!" He hollered in Kishwali at his father.
Spock resisted the grin tugging at one corner of his mouth.
"Do you wish to eat now, Bakari?" He inquired of his son, patiently.
If Nyota didn't know better she would have sworn her child actually expelled an irritated breath and rolled his eyes at the older man. Turning in his mother's embrace and placing both hands on either side of her face, Bakari repeated himself, slower this time.
"Eat."
Nyota laughed, the sound rolling over Spock's nerve endings like sunshine.
"Alright. Let's go eat." Nyota agreed switching into Standard, her deep amusement still sparkling in her voice. Shifting her son's already considerable weight to her left hip, the trio moved out of the room and into the corridor.
As Spock walked with his family back towards their living quarters, he listened intently as Bakari explained in great detail what he thought of the ceremony, this part of the ship, and wanted for dinner in the extremely fascinating, yet completely unintelligible language all humanoid babies seemed to prefer to converse in. As they moved down the corridor, Nyota interjected a sincere 'Oh, yeah?' and a 'Is that so?' in Vulcan or Kishwali where ever it seemed appropriate as Bakari's curiosity bloomed under his mother's undivided attention.
Nyota looked so much like his own mother then; Spock was caught off guard by it. Holding the boy close, his wife's tone was indulgent but not condescending as she asked her son questions in a dozen different languages and praised his stilted answers. A memory he was not certain was his own floated into his mind then; of long afternoon walks in the dessert near his parent's home, of his mother's teasing statements, and his usually serious face transformed first by confusion and then by the barest hint of laughter.
For a moment his heart throbbed at the still acute pain of his own loss. In the next it was replaced by the diffuse warmth of watching Nyota expertly mother their son. As they walked past engineering and she explained how the warp drive worked her voice was a song that captivated Bakari's usually fickle interest. Again, Spock felt his affection and admiration for his bond mate grow. There did not seem to be much she could not do.
The same could be said, Spock mused, for their son, who was begging his mother to be put down so he could walk under his own steam. As Nyota released him and watched the toddler run a few paces ahead she drew Spock's hand into hers and sighed contentedly. As their minds touched Nyota let her gratitude and desire for her husband spill into him and Spock returned in kind.
The two walked hand in hand, savoring the tenderness of such intimate public contact, for several seconds until the moment came to a crashing halt by the sight of Bakari first closely examining and then deftly removing a small wall panel and peering excitedly at its tantalizingly dangerous contents. As the two broke their embrace and sprinted in his direction, a strange mix of trepidation and what can only be explained as paternal pride wound through them as the little boy looked in their direction and smiled before moving to crawl inside.