Utoto, chapter 4
"Oh, wow. Last night was superb. I liked that k'len move the best." Derek put down his spoon and mimicked the motion. "I can't wait to show everybody back on Earth."
Seated at the breakfast table, Spock listened as Derek rhapsodized about their ch'ra session of the night before. He had been concerned that the boy's interest might wane, but if anything, he had become even more enthusiastic after their second practice session.
Nyota helped herself to a serving of fruit. "You'll have to be careful you don't hurt them. You were really strong on some of those moves."
Derek grinned. "Yeah, I was, wasn't I?"
"Indeed you were," said Spock. "I was impressed by how quickly you learned. You must remember, though, that ch'ra is a serious discipline. It exercises the mind as well as the body, and one must approach it with the appropriate amount of gravity."
"Yeah, believe me, I felt the gravity. On my butt."
Spock frowned. "Derek, that is not—"
Derek laughed. "I'm just kidding! I know that it's important, and I know what it means to you. It means a lot to me, too. I'll be serious about it. No more jokes or games, I swear. I'll work hard at it, and I'll be really good. You'll see."
"Very well. With the proper attitude, I have no doubt that you will be good. You have already displayed great promise."
"So," said Nyota, "what are we going to do today? It's your last day. We need to make it special."
"Can we go back to the gym later?"
"I was planning on it," replied Spock. "I will ensure that I come home from work promptly."
"Great." Derek took a bite of cereal and chewed thoughtfully. "I think that I'd like to go to the museum today. Is that okay with you, Nyota?"
Her smile expressed surprised delight. "Why, of course! I'd love to do that."
"First can I finish my game? I was just getting to the good part, when the zombies come out and capture all the Klingons."
"Sure," she said. "I have a few things I need to do around the house. We'll go later."
Rising, Spock picked up his dishes and started toward the kitchen. "I must leave now. Enjoy your day at the museum. I will see you both this afternoon."
They said their farewells, and the last thing he heard before walking out the door was a discussion of what was new at the museum.
...
Situated in her customary seat in the center of the front row, Perrin looked up at Spock as he stood before the class. She had not managed to catch him in the lab this morning, but he had happened to enter the classroom early to find her already here. He had commented on her dedication, and he had even asked if she was well. She had been delighted at his interest in her personal well being, and when she had asked how he was today, she thought that he had replied with extra warmth. Clearly he was pleased that she would care.
She brought her attention back to the moment when she realized that he was ending his lecture for today. She remained seated while he summarized the day's assignment, reminded the students that their projects should be well underway, and dismissed the class. He returned to his desk, and when the room had emptied, she approached.
"Spock, I'm thinking about starting stage three. I know that I'm not quite finished with stage two, but I'm eager to move forward. Here are my ideas."
She gave her padd to him, and he studied it for a moment before nodding and handing it back. "This is promising. I am uncertain about your use of the transdimensional coefficient in the first equation, however. It could skew your later results."
She pursed her lips as she looked for her error. "Sorry, but I don't see it. Maybe we can work on it this evening."
"Computer, off." He rose. "I do not wish to inconvenience you, but I am unable to work with you tonight. I promised my wife that I would spend the evening at home."
She frowned. "Your wife?"
He was already collecting his teaching materials. "You are a gifted research analyst, Perrin, and I believe that you do not need me as much as you think you do. Look closely at the first equation. If you still have not solved the problem tomorrow, I will assist you then."
He met her eyes for a long moment, and when she did not reply, he nodded. "I will speak with you tomorrow. Good day."
Perrin nodded back, so he left the room. She remained rooted to her spot, gazing at the empty doorway without really seeing it.
A wife. He was married.
She wandered slowly from the room and headed for the stairs. She heard someone say "Sorry" as she descended, but it only vaguely registered that a human in a hurry had accidentally jostled her.
When she was outside on the walkway, she stopped and blinked, trying to adapt to the brightness of the light. Her next class was straight ahead, but instead of going in that direction, she turned toward the shuttle stop.
She wanted to go home.
...
By the time Perrin walked through her front door, she had managed to put things into perspective. It had been such a shock to learn that he was married, but really, could she be faulted for assuming that he was unattached? He had been in the lab with her nearly every evening for the past week, and even before that, she would see him working late in his office or in the lab, sometimes with other students, sometimes by himself.
It was obvious that he didn't have much of a home life. His wife evidently didn't care if he was there or not. And he'd said it himself—he was only staying home this evening because he'd promised. Maybe he didn't even want to stay at home. She was probably making him.
Plus, she, Perrin, knew. She knew. She was a woman, and she knew in the way a woman knows that he admired her. She was an outstanding student, gifted at research. Outstanding and gifted. Those were his words.
She went straight to her computer.
"Computer. Biographical search, Spock of Vulcan."
The screen displayed a list of items with short descriptions, as well as a message indicating that there were many more not shown.
"Computer. Scroll slowly through list."
She watched as each item moved leisurely toward the top of the screen and vanished. Vulcan Science Academy, Vulcan Science Academy, Starfleet, Starfleet, Starfleet... Many Starfleet entries. There was a very old one about a breakthrough he had made in warp theory in Buenos Aires. Interesting. She hadn't realized that he'd worked as a research scientist on Earth. As a matter of fact, it seemed that almost every one of these entries mentioned humans or Earth. She wouldn't have expected him to have such strong ties to Earth. She also hadn't expected him to be so prominent. She felt goosebumps ripple down her arms.
She'd have to make sure she came back to some of these later, but right now she had something more specific in mind.
"Computer. Narrow search to include keyword 'wife.'"
There. The list was now much smaller. Very good.
She expanded the first item, and she was disappointed to see an image of a much older Vulcan man with a human woman. As she read the article, however, she realized that it was here because this was Spock's father... and his wife. Extraordinary! Spock's mother was human. He was half human! She congratulated herself on her astuteness, for hadn't she always known that there was something different about him? Maybe this explained the ties to Earth, too.
Returning to the list, she saw a promising entry. It appeared to be about some sort of diplomatic event involving Starfleet and Klingons. Maybe it would show Spock's wife. When she opened it, though, she found a picture of a group of humans holding up champagne glasses in the direction of a Klingon woman, and Spock simply stood near the side behind everyone. The search had hit the word 'wife' because there was a mention of an admiral's wife. Too bad. Spock did look good in his uniform, however. He was considerably younger, too. He was such a handsome man, both then and now. She closed this entry and studied the list again.
An obituary caught her eye. It was nearly thirty years old, but it was for a woman named Amanda Grayson, which Perrin recognized as Spock's mother. If anything was going to list all family members, this should be it.
And there she was, her name, anyway: Nyota Uhura. It sounded human, but Perrin couldn't be sure. She needed to know more about this woman.
"Computer. Biographical search, Nyota Uhura. Sort by relevance to Spock of Vulcan. Add secondary sort, ascending chronological sequence."
She raised both eyebrows when she saw the new list, for it was very similar to the old list. As a matter of fact, she recognized one entry right away, because it had been among the last entries she'd seen on her original search. This must be a mistake. Maybe she hadn't been specific enough with her request to the computer.
She selected the article, and when it opened, her screen was filled with the image of a sandy-haired man wearing a gold shirt surrounded by five humans and Spock. Spock was even younger in this one than before. The caption stated that this was the senior crew of the Enterprise. There was only one woman, and she was beautiful. Incredibly beautiful. She was one of those women who are too beautiful for their own good. Perrin already didn't like her.
Almost afraid to know the answer to her request, Perrin said, "Computer, what is the name of the human female shown in this image?"
"Nyota Uhura," replied the computer.
Her mouth slightly agape, she stared at the image. This was Spock's wife? But... This picture was taken over fifty years ago. It was a long shot, but maybe there was more than one Nyota Uhura. Maybe his wife was this woman's daughter.
"Computer. Show any pictures accompanying the items in this list. Cycle at three seconds."
A new picture came up on the screen, but this one had only Spock and the man in the gold shirt. The woman was not in it, so she must have just been mentioned in the text. The next one showed the woman. She was posed with a harp—Perrin felt something sink within her when she realized that it was a Vulcan harp—and the caption stated that the woman had won some sort of musical competition. Then there was a picture of the group again, then another picture of several members of the group, and more and more of the same.
Perrin sat back in her chair as image after image flashed across her screen. The sinking sensation in her chest only grew worse, because she finally could not deny that this woman had to be Spock's wife. They were growing old together right before her eyes. There they were wearing ugly pastel-colored uniforms. The woman's hairstyle was big and puffy, and Spock's expression was so severe it was almost frightening, but it was them. And there they were, now wearing burgundy-colored uniforms, and there they were again, with a group of young people who looked like students. As time progressed, they seemed to be directly next to each other more and more often. There was one of just the two of them at someone's funeral, they were so obviously a couple, he had his hand on her elbow, he was watching her—
Finally, she cried, "Computer, stop."
She covered her face. These were not images of someone who wasn't devoted to his wife. Instead, these were images of two people who had spent a lifetime together, two people who had shared remarkable experiences, two people who had a history. Who had a future.
She let her hands fall to her lap, and she stared at the picture from the funeral. The person who had died was named Montgomery Scott, and it was clear from the picture that he couldn't be closely related to either of them. Nyota Uhura looked so sad. Boo hoo.
Finally, Perrin said, "Computer. Current street address of Spock and Nyota Uhura."
She memorized the computer's response, then left her apartment.
...
Her heart pounding, Perrin tried to appear calm as she strolled down the sidewalk. She knew that Spock taught classes all afternoon, but it was still unnerving to think that he might catch her. What would she do if it happened? What would she tell him? Would she even have to say anything? Maybe he would understand. Maybe he'd even be flattered. It could be their little secret.
She glanced casually at each house that she passed, even though she knew that he lived just ahead. These houses were all so small, almost tackily so. This was a modest neighborhood, with nothing like the home she'd expected to find. Maybe she shouldn't be surprised, however.
Nyota Uhura had probably grown up in a cozy little house, and she had wanted one just like dear old Mom's. Perrin knew from the articles that Spock's family was prominent, and she also knew that his family must own a grand estate. Nyota Uhura obviously hadn't appreciated that. She hadn't taken her proper place in Vulcan society, and she'd dragged Spock down with her. Maybe the Vulcans hadn't wanted her. Or maybe she'd already run through his fortune, and they'd been forced to live like this. Poor Spock.
There. That was the house. Perrin forced herself to keep walking past it, but as soon as she was sure no one was watching, she hurried across the street and found a hidden spot behind a big piece of synthiwood that was leaning against another house. There wasn't a tree or big shrub to be seen, so she was fortunate that the neighbors were doing some renovations.
The house was quiet. She could see a sofa, stuffed chair, and coffee table through the large front window, and it all looked so Terran that she felt ill. How unfair! There was nothing of Spock's Vulcan heritage. Even the pitiful little shrubs out front were Terran.
Wait—
She ducked behind the synthiwood when she realized that there was movement in the front room. Someone had walked by the window. She eased back out just in time to see the front door open. She could hear voices. There were two people. One was a woman, and another sounded young. Not a child, but not an adult, either. Male. His voice cracked slightly, and Perrin knew in the instant before she saw him that he must be a young teenager.
A teenager? There was a teenager at Spock's house?
His hands shoved in his pockets, he slumped out the door, and she felt her heart stop. He was dark-skinned like Spock's wife. He looked human. He was tall and slim like Spock. And he had Vulcan ears. He was their son. Spock had a son.
Her vision blurred, and she muttered a curse under her breath as she quickly wiped the moisture from her eyes.
A woman stepped out but immediately turned to palm the lock, so Perrin couldn't see her clearly. Was this Nyota Uhura? She had dark skin like the woman in the picture, but her hair wasn't dark. It was almost entirely silver.
Perrin heard the boy ask if he could have a cheeseburger for lunch, and the woman replied that they'd stop for one on their way to the museum. The woman's back was still to her. Perrin had decided that she was never going to get a good look when suddenly the woman turned toward the boy, and Perrin gasped when she saw her face. The woman and the boy then crossed the yard in the opposite direction toward a flitter, but the image of what she had seen still burned in her mind. This was an old woman. Her carriage was proudly erect, but she was wrinkled, and she moved like Perrin's grandmother. She was ancient!
The shadow from the flitter passed overhead, but Perrin didn't even spare it a glance as she started back down the sidewalk. She had someplace else she needed to go.
...
Uhura sneaked a glance at Derek while they stood before a display of ancient weapons. He had hurried through the last two rooms—a collection of early musical instruments and a depiction of what pre-reform Vulcan life was like—and she had known that he was eager to reach this room. It had always been his favorite. She wished that he had shown more appreciation for the beautiful musical instruments in the other room, but she was also glad to know that some things never changed.
Unable to resist, she reached over and straightened his collar.
"I'll bet that lirpa cut off a hundred heads in its day," he said.
"I wouldn't be surprised. It was a violent time."
"We were studying it the other day. My friends say that Vulcan school must be boring, but Vulcan history is a million times better than Terran. The early humans just used spears and bows and arrows, and burned each other at the stake. Nothing like what the Vulcans did."
She chuckled. "I don't think that the glories of fratricide were really what they intended to teach you, but if it helps you learn, all the better."
"Does that look like blood to you on the edge of the blade?"
She shook her head and moved on to the next exhibit, a huge stone idol that had been unearthed in the desert. A young human woman was already standing there, and she looked up when Uhura approached.
Pointing at Derek, the woman said, "I think that your son likes the weapons."
Uhura smiled. "To say that he likes them is an understatement, but he's not my son."
"Oh, really? He looks so much like you. You must be related."
"I'll take that as a compliment, but no, we actually aren't."
"Well, he seems to be a good boy."
"He is." Uhura leaned close and whispered. "When he isn't too busy being a teenager."
The woman laughed. "I know exactly what you mean."
Derek moved in the other direction, so Uhura nodded politely. "Enjoy the museum."
"Thanks. You, too."
Catching up with him, Uhura said, "I heard that there are some new items in the early spaceflight room. Do you want to check that out next?"
"Sure." He grinned wickedly. "Do you think there will be any pictures of you and Spock in it?"
Uhura playfully shoved his arm, making him stumble slightly as they left the room. "I'm old, boy, but I'm not too old to know a smart remark when I hear one. You'd better watch your step."
He laughed, and together they headed down the hallway that would take them to the early spaceflight exhibit.
...
Still standing by the primitive statue, Perrin let her smile fade as she listened to Nyota Uhura's voice recede in the distance. Poor Spock!
This was why he worked all the time. His wife was old, much too old for him. He deserved someone younger, someone with more energy who could share his interests. Someone who could go places with him, who could do all the things he must surely either do by himself or not do at all. Someone who was still beautiful and vital, and well, she had to say it—sexually attractive.
Someone like herself.
End chapter 4
