Chapter Four: Unplanned Meetings
Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from these characters. I do, however, get much enjoyment from stalking them...which would be easier if they had Twitter accounts!
The hall lights in the language building are on later than usual, Nyota notes as she rounds the second-floor stairwell and shifts her satchel to her other shoulder. Usually the energy management plan plunges everything into darkness once the last person has left for the day—and she is certain that she was the last person when she left the lab two hours ago.
She hadn't planned to return—but being a third-wheel on an outing with Gaila is not her idea of a good time. Instead, she will do some of her own course work for a difficult xenolingistics class and finish grading student assignments that have taken her longer than she had anticipated.
When she gets to the top of the steps she hears voices in the distance and looks up in time to see Spock and a woman in a heavy coat coming out of his office. His mother, of course—Spock had said that she was coming into town.
For a moment she considers turning around and heading back down the stairs before they see her—something in Spock's manner when he had told her earlier about the visit had signaled his unease, and Nyota had sensed that he wasn't ready to introduce them to each other.
On reflection she had understood his reserve—after all, she and Spock are breaking Academy rules with their intimacy—possibly compromising their futures in Starfleet—and their public life has to remain beyond reproach….but she was disappointed—no, she was hurt—when he had not warmed to her suggestion that she and his mother meet this evening.
Now he may think that she has engineered this meeting on purpose—her heart races with embarrassment, but it is too late. Spock looks up and sees her standing at the top of the stairs.
She can read him well enough to see that he is surprised—but thankfully he is not upset. Instead, he takes his mother's elbow and begins walking toward Nyota.
Nyota pulls her satchel closer and tries to smile. Spock's mother is surprisingly petite—or at least, she looks small next to her son. They share the same dark eyes and high cheekbones, and Nyota laughs inwardly when she realizes that she is trying to get a glimpse of her ears.
"Cadet Uhura," Spock says, "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Yes, I—" Nyota says, flustered, "I have some research I need to do for a paper—and I wanted to get these last assignments graded before tomorrow. Your students have been asking for them."
Nyota can feel Spock's mother's gaze—but it is his gaze that makes her uncomfortable. She hazards a glance at him and is relieved that he is looking at her with a measure of quiet equanimity.
"Please," he says, "let me introduce you to my mother. Mother, this is my teaching assistant, Cadet Uhura."
"Amanda," Spock's mother says quickly, reaching for Nyota's hand.
"Nyota," she says, pressing her fingers into Amanda's palm. For a split second she is surprised—Amanda's hand is papery and cool—and…silent. Nyota darts a glance at Spock but catches herself before she comments.
"We're on our way to dinner," Amanda says, looking up at Spock and then back. "Would you care to join us?"
"Mother," Spock says quietly, "another time, perhaps. Cadet Uhura has said that she has work she must do tonight."
Nyota takes a breath and says, "Thank you, but….that's right. I really have to finish—"
"Another time then," Amanda says, and the sting that Nyota is trying not to feel eases a fraction. She smiles at mother and son and turns to walk towards the lab.
"Let me know when you have a chance to check your messages," Spock says, and Nyota stops and turns back.
"My messages?"
"I forwarded a note to you from Admiral Keening," he says, "though you may have already gotten another notification."
"I don't think so," Nyota says, noticing that Amanda is watching their conversation closely.
"The Academy is being recognized for the language tutorial program," he says, "at the Feynman Conference in Amsterdam this weekend. Admiral Keening wants someone to represent the department. Professor Artura is visiting Andoria at the moment—though his aide has expressed an interest in attending."
"That's wonderful," Nyota says, startled. She remembers helping submit papers outlining the unique properties of their rotating tutorial program to the selection committee—but that had been months ago, and in the meantime she had assumed the conference had passed on having them present. "Are you going? Do you have to make a talk?"
"I have no choice," Spock says, "though your participation is optional. The presentation will be minimal—though you are, of course, welcome to come. Some of the other workshops may be of interest to you."
The dreariness and disappointments of the day scatter like birds, and suddenly Nyota is beaming.
"Yes, I want to go!" she says, and Spock tilts his head slightly and nods. He takes his mother's arm again and they head down the hall toward the lift.
"Good night," Amanda calls over her shoulder, but Nyota has already disappeared, practically skipping through the door into the lab.
X X X X X X X
The shuttle to Amsterdam is crowded with Academy staff and Starfleet personnel, and though none of the seats are particularly cramped, Natalie feels a moment of claustrophobia when she finds her seat in the back and stows her duffel overhead. The young cadet sitting on the aisle smiles and stands to let her squeeze in.
For a few minutes they are occupied with buckling up and negotiating arm rests—and finally the shuttle is cleared and they take off.
Normally on short hops like this, Natalie takes out her computer tablet and works—not just to get caught up, but to keep from having to make small talk with strangers. Even back here she can hear Chris up front deep in conversation with someone—he never meets a stranger.
Which is why, Natalie thinks, she is baffled by his reaction to the Vulcan first officer candidate. Chris is so good at putting people at ease—at inspiring confidence—at all the things that make him an exceptional leader.
The young cadet sitting beside her already has her computer out, and Natalie leans over and looks at the screen.
"I'm being nosey," she says, forcing herself to chat. Amsterdam is less than thirty minutes away—she can be friendly that long. "Hi, I'm Natalie. That the conference schedule?"
"I'm Nyota," Nyota says, tipping the screen so Natalie can see it better. "This is tomorrow's linguistics schedule but I can shift it to something else."
"No," Natalie says quickly, "that's fine. Are you presenting?"
"Not me alone," she says, scrolling to another screen. "I'm on a panel with another aide and a professor to talk about our tutorial program. See, here we are. It's just an hour on Saturday."
Natalie takes the computer tablet from Nyota's hand and looks at it more closely.
"Commander Spock? He's on the panel with you?"
"I'm his teaching assistant this semester," she says. "He and Professor Artura designed the program that we've been tracking—it really seems to help retention in new language learners."
"Here," Natalie says, handing Nyota her tablet. Suddenly a routine shuttle trip has become interesting. She cranes her neck but can't catch a glimpse of Chris. No matter. She's been his attaché long enough to know the kinds of things he would want her to find out.
"So, a language program. You're tracking for communications, then?"
"Um hmm," Nyota says, thumbing the tablet screen. "One more year."
"Good luck with that," Natalie says. "Teaching assistant—that must take a lot of your time."
Nyota laughs.
"It does," she says, "but I like it. Mostly I monitor the lab, so I have time to do my own work. And Commander Spock lets me take time off when I need it, so it hasn't been overwhelming."
"I don't know him," Natalie says, and then, feeling guilty and disingenuous, she adds, "is he on this shuttle?"
She knows he isn't—but she doesn't want this cadet to know her connection to Captain Pike. She's not sure why she is being so secretive—she doesn't think a cadet would care about or try to influence the interview process—and then Natalie reminds herself that Spock has no more interviews scheduled—that this is nothing more than an innocent conversation.
"He's coming tomorrow," Nyota says, switching off her computer and tucking it into a carrying case on her lap. "His mother is ill and he's staying with her through her treatment."
"Oh!" Natalie says, surprised. "Nothing serious, I hope."
"It's serious," Nyota says, "but treatable. I'm not sure I understand all the details, but the way he described it, his mother has to have regular treatment for radiation exposure."
Natalie's eyebrows shoot up into her bangs—but Nyota is concentrating and doesn't notice.
"Apparently the Vulcan sun has some extra wavelengths that are toxic to humans after long exposure," Nyota says, and Natalie has to do a quick mental dance to follow what she is saying. Her frown pulls Nyota back.
"I'm not being very clear," she says to Natalie. "Commander Spock is from Vulcan, but his mother is human. She's okay—as long as she has the treatment regularly. And I think she has family nearby that she visits when she's here."
Natalie thinks about the tall, sallow Commander and tries to reconcile the idea of a human mother. That flash of annoyance she had seen in his posture and heard in his tone—it had surprised her at the time, but perhaps his mixed heritage explains it better. Not such a cold fish after all. What will Chris make of this? Something? Nothing? She can't predict.
"I hope everything goes well," Natalie says, checking her chronometer. The trip is already half over.
"Thanks," Nyota says. "I hope so, too."
Something wistful in Nyota's tone of voice prick's Natalie's attention. She's never been a big believer in what people call intuition—that's Chris' bailiwick, his absolute belief in his own ability to leap to the right conclusion, data be damned—and he is usually justified.
But Natalie trusts facts and figures. She doesn't mind saying that she sees the world in black and white—she's comfortable leaving those shades of gray for Chris to dicker with.
Yet here she is having a moment of intuition. From the first she has been unable to articulate why she thinks Chris should give this young Commander a serious look—something about him just feels right for Chris—a necessary counterpoint.
And now something in this young cadet's cadence—in the warmth of her voice—something not in black and white but tenuous and hard to pinpoint—suggests a story Natalie needs to know.
That she's going to find out.
A/N: This story should stand on its own, but it follows a trilogy of stories that deal primarily with how Spock and Uhura "crossed the line"—"Slips of the Tongue," "The Visitor," and "The Word You Mean." Thanks for taking the time to leave a review! I do appreciate them! Thanks, too, to StarTrekFanWriter for her help.
