"I watched C-beams glitter in the dawn near the Tanhauser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time…like tears in rain…Time to die."
"Computer, terminate holovid" Christine Chapel's voice trembled as she choked back a sob. Sighing plaintively, she wiped the salty tears streaming down her cheeks with the soft woven coverlet she'd wrapped around herself.
"Seriously Christine," she scolded herself angrily and rose from the couch. "Blade Runner? Twenty thousand holovids to choose from and you managed to pick the one with a psychotic scientist making psychotic androids? Happy Freaking Valentine's Day!"
Half heartedly she clicked back to the menu screen, scrolled through to the classic films section settling on an innocuous sounding comedy. Truth be told, she would just have soon gone to bed if it hadn't seemed like admitting defeat. As the vid began she programmed a large container of popcorn with extra butter and salt. The screen on the replicator flashed a warning: "CAUTION: Consumption of Animal fats in this quantity may promote unhealthy weight gain and heart disease-Cancel or Proceed?"
Death by butterfat? Surely there were worse ways to go she decided with a soft chuckle as she touched "Proceed".
The display flashed again "Caution: Consumption of sodium in this quantity may promote high blood pressure or edema-Cancel or Proceed?"
"Just give me my damn popcorn!" she demanded, pounding her fist on the word "Proceed".
She fixed the replicator with a menacing gaze, defying it to flash yet another warning, but her electronic nemesis had apparently thrown in the towel and within a few seconds the cabin was filled with the tantalizing aroma of fresh popcorn and real honest to God, artery clogging, cows mooing, terran butter.
Less than four hours, she mused checking the chrono on her desk, and Valentine's Day along with its cruel minions of arrow shooting, fat, flying babies would be history, at least until next year.
Christine had just settled herself into her impromptu fortress of pillows and blankets when her door chime sounded.
"What the hell?" Christine paused the holovid. Who on earth would be at her door at this time of night? She wasn't on call…and even it Geoff needed her he would have sent an emergency comm. Most likely it was Ny, or worse Len, checking to see if she was okay.
"Go away!' She growled.
But it appeared her protest fell on deaf ears as the door chime sounded once again.
"I mean it, go away! I've got a large bowl of extremely dangerous popcorn in here… and I'm not afraid to use it!"
But her would be guest was unfazed by threats of high cholesterol snackfood and her chime rang a third time.
"For the last time," she screamed, "Go away now, unless you have a medical emergency then go away and call Dr. M'Benga!"
She set the bowl of popcorn on the table and rose from the sofa, an angry diatribe locked and loaded in preparation for the next sounding of the chime. Instead she was greeted with four melodic notes followed by the soft swooshing sound of the pneumatic doors sliding open.
"What the hell…" she halted speechless as the dark, imposing figure stepped crisply through the parted durasteel doors.
"May I come in?"
"You're already in Commander," she scowled angrily. "What part of 'go away' don't you understand?"
"I wish to speak with you."
"I'm kind of busy right now." She said, tugging nervously at the hem of the stretchy nightshirt, caught in a sudden wave of embarrassment at its revealing nature.
The Vulcan raised an amused eyebrow as his gaze journeyed from the couch, to the popcorn, then moved to the holovid and finally back to her.
"May I sit down?"
"I'm not exactly dressed for guests."
"No, you are not." He responded with that uniquely annoying Vulcan aplomb, as though sitting down for a friendly chat with a woman wearing nothing but a clingy nightshirt was something he did on a daily basis. His dark eyes shifted between the small couch and the overstuffed chair.
Christine barely managed to quash the exasperated sigh that was struggling to escape. The enemy had cunningly managed to outflank her with the ultimate weapon, more lethal than an arsenal of photon torpedoes; it was the heartbreaking, soul crushing, Vulcan logic bomb. It was an ingenious move, utterly diabolical, apparently there was no length this insipid holiday wouldn't traverse to best her.
"Have a seat," Christine nodded indicating the couch as she cautiously seated herself in the chair to his left, aware that her brief nightshirt would provide even less coverage when she was seated. She wasn't certain if she should feel relieved or annoyed that the phlegmatic Vulcan did not appear to notice.
"You wanted to speak to me?"
"I waited for some time, but you did not come to dinner."
"Dinner? No, I…I" Christine found herself curiously unsettled by the uncharacteristic intensity of his gaze. "I was… tired when I got off shift…so…well… I decided to have a shower and eat dinner here. I wasn't really in the mood for all the…you know …all the hoopla in the Mess tonight. I'm sorry…I didn't realize that you would be there waiting."
"Is it not our custom to share the endmeal on this evening?"
"Well…yes, but the Admiral cancelled all nonessential staff meetings tonight because…well, for some people…it's sort of… a…a holiday. I assumed that given the illogical nature of the celebration that…well that you would…I don't know…it just seemed awkward…and…well I just needed an evening off work for a change. In fact…well…I've been meaning to say something to you about this for a while. In the future, I think we should schedule our meetings during our on duty time rather than personal time."
Christine was perplexed to see his bearing stiffen as he crossed his arms across his chest, and the softer, more open expression that she'd come to associate with the post V'ger Spock became hard, and surprisingly peevish for a Vulcan." It is not I who has persisted in bringing work to our shared meals Christine."
"Right," she said, inexplicably defensive, "so…then…we were…what… on a date?'
"Vulcans do not date Christine."
"Yeah, I guess if you're only having sex once every seven years the whole dating thing is hardly worth the trouble."
"Really Christine, such churlishness is most unbecoming. Vulcan males are pledged to a bond mate following the completion of the ritual kan s'wan. As I understand the human convention of dating, it is a ritualization of your primitive ancestors' hunt to secure a female for the purposes of mating. As a Vulcan male already possesses a mate, the recreation of the prehistoric hunting model is illog" he paused abruptly and took a breath "unnecessary."
"McCoy was right…you really can even make sex sound boring."
He reached forward and scooped up a handful of the popcorn, studying it for a moment before cautiously popping a piece into his mouth.
"Oh, please, help yourself."
"Vulcan males are quite capable of mating outside of the seven year cycle doctor, given adequate motivation."
"I'll be sure to add that information to your chart in the morning. So…are we done here?"
Spock appeared about to respond when he was interrupted by the sound of the door chime.
"Come." Spock said as he rose and moved toward the doorway.
Before Christine had a chance to register her protest at he addition of another interloper, the durasteel doors swooshed open revealing a yeoman with an antigrav unit.
"Right there will be fine." The young man acknowledged the Commander's tight nod and lowered the unit to the decking. A startled gasp escaped Christine's lips as she jumped to her feet and saw the shimmering stasis field surrounding what appeared to be a small elegant table with containers of food and two gleaming china place settings and a small vase of flowers. The young man handed a small device to Spock before leaving.
"What the…" Christine felt her cheeks redden as Spock's gaze reminded her of her state of near undress.
"Perhaps you might wish to change into something less…" he raised an elegant eyebrow and Christine was certain she'd seen the faintest trace of a smile brush across his lips "comfortable… before we begin our meal?"
Christine crossed her arms across her chest, the gesture a strange mixture of modesty and defiance and fixed the Vulcan with a hard stare.
"What is this?"
"Aru-yem, I believe your people call it 'dinner'."
"I can see it's dinner! What is it doing here in my quarters?"
He moved his eyes purposefully over her, allowing them to linger on her long bare legs. "I am hungry… and I do not believe your present attire would lend itself to an excursion to the Officer's Mess."
"Well maybe I'm not hungry."
"I would find your statement less specious if I could not actually hear your stomach rumbling."
Noticing that his gaze remained focused on her legs; she anxiously tugged the hem of the stretchy fabric down in an abortive attempt to cover her bare thighs.
He responded, again raising an amused eyebrow and shifting his gaze upward to her now half bared breasts.
"I am hungry." She conceded gazing inquisitively toward the table. "What are we having?"
Spock touched the tiny device and the stasis field dissipated revealing an artfully arranged plate of colorful vegetable antipasti, and another plate covered with thick slices of bright red tomatoes interleaved with thin slices of creamy white cheese and fragrant green basil.
"How on earth did you get fresh basil and … saffron; is that Rissoto Milanese?"
"Mr. Sulu graciously provided the basil and saffron from his hydroponic garden."
"Okay, give me a few minutes to change into something more…appropriate."
She retreated into the small dressing area, still puzzling over the appearance of the Vulcan First Officer, and tonight of all nights. She tossed the nightshirt into the laundry recycle slot and quickly slipped into a bra and panties.
"What exactly does one wear when one's tight assed Vulcan superior officer, and ostensible love of said one's life, shows up unannounced on Valentine's Day with dinner?" she mused wryly as she surveyed the contents of her closet.
Her wardrobe, which skewed heavily to dutywear, stood in mute testament to her dismal failure to establish any sort of meaningful social life since her reposting to the Enterprise. With the exception of her regular "girls night in" with Jan and Ny, and her weekly aftershift dinner with Leonard, her off duty time had been spent working in the biolabs with Spock and their frequent dinner meetings, which he now claimed hadn't been meetings at all. "It is not I who has persisted in bring work to our shared meals Christine." What in the hell was that supposed to mean? And why on earth had she brought up the Vulcan mating cycle? This whole thing was starting to give her a headache.
She took a deep calming breath. First things first Christine. She slipped on her black jersey dinner dress, its ankle length and three quarter sleeves considerably more decorous than her previous attire.
She returned to her living area to find that Spock had dimmed the room's lighting and was lighting the candles on the table.
"Okay that's it; computer, lights up full!" She called out tartly. "What exactly is going on here? Did Nyota or Leonard put you up to this?"
"I do not understand your question?" He said as he poured out two glasses of wine.
"Wine, candlelight, you, me, alone in my cabin" she shook her head, "this is hardly our 'customary' dinner Mr. Spock…so I'm asking you again, what exactly is going on?"
"It is Valentine's Day Christine; my research indicated that a special meal would be well received. I was careful to incorporate foods for which you have shown marked preference in the past…yet you appear to be displeased."
"I'm not…displeased, just…kind of, I don't know…more like…confused."
"Confused?"
"I…you," she felt her cheeks reddening as she stammered nervously, "you're…well… Vulcan."
"And you find that confusing?"
"No, but I didn't think Vulcans celebrate Valentine's Day."
"As a rule they do not."
So you're…breaking a rule?"
"It is not one of the Tenents of Surak Christine." He responded with unveiled amusement. "Perhaps breaking with custom, might be more precise."
"So, basically, you're just trying to be nice and I'm being an extraordinarily rude and unappreciative witch."
"I would perhaps express it with more diplomatically chosen words, but I believe you have captured the essence of, as you put it, 'what is going on here.'"
"I'm sorry for being so…suspicious. Valentine's Day really isn't one of my favorite holidays, it tends to bring out my more cynical side."
"I was under the impression that human females held this holiday in high regard?"
"Most do…but for some of us… it's…it can…hurt to be alone on Valentine's Day."
"Now it is I who is confused. Were you not here alone of your own choice?"
"That's not what I…" she paused and regarded him for a moment. "I think you may have missed some of the finer points of Valentine's Day in your research."
"I believe my research methods were quite thorough; although I must admit I had not considered the possibility that you would find the holiday so…unsettling."
"I would have thought you'd figured out after all this time among humans that when it comes to our emotions we're very unpredictable."
"I have noticed that proclivity."
"I'm sure you have." She laughed softly and took a sip of the wine. "Vernaccia…that's my favorite. How on earth did you get a bottle?"
"My mother secured it last month during a trip to Earth with my father."
"Shall we be seated for our meal?"
"There is something I wish to give your first." He pulled the cloth wrapped package from under the table and handed it to her.
"This lovely dinner and now a gift? You're definitely breaking with custom this evening Commander. Shall I open it now or after dinner?"
"Open it now."
"For some reason I'm always terribly self conscious when I open a gift…I guess it's a good thing I don't get that many." Her eyes sparkled with puzzled delight as she untied the silky cord and removed the wrapping to reveal a length of beautifully woven fabric embellished with rich metallic embroidery.
"It's…exquisite. What is it?" she asked as she unfolded it.
" Sai-tukh orifih-kil skann…it bears the ancestral markings of my family, it is a tradition from the time before Surak. It is meant to be worn by the female."
She moved her fingers over the florid script in delighted fascination. "It's incredible, but I don't understand, why would you give something like this to me?"
He canted his head slightly to the left regarding her for a moment. "Tradition dictates the presentation of the ta'am ugaya –mnah incumbent upon the one making the afsakayu."
She wrapped the beautiful shawl around herself and moved toward the mirror beside her dresser to admire it. "ta'am guan…" she struggled to pronounce the alien words.
"Ta'am ugaya-mnah" he said softly as he moved behind her and gently adjusted the garment so that it covered her left shoulder then, draping it across her torso, he used the hidden fastener to secure it to her hip allowing the ends to dangle down to the middle of her calf. "The ta'am , it means the gift… it the symbol of the ugaya-mnah the pledge of joinng". In donning it you show your acceptance of the afsakayu."
"The pledge of joining…what exactly am I joining?" It sounded like he was making her some sort of honorary Vulcan or something. Seriously, she wondered, how much weirder was this day going to get?
"Christine," the Vulcan sighed, "for such an intelligent woman you can be exasperatingly obtuse"
"Maybe I'd be less 'obtuse' if you'd start making a little sense you. You show up here with a candlelight dinner and a 'ta'am uga mooah"
"Ta'am ugay-mnah"
"Whatever, you show up here on Valentine's Day, which, if you'd done a better job researching, you'd know was an extraordinarily insensitive thing to do when you know…you know…" she choked back a sob as she fumbled with the fastener on the shawl.
"When I know what?"
"I'm in love with you! Seriously, everyone else on the whole damn ship knows….and you think I'm obtuse. This is exactly why I hate Valentine's Day…it's just another heaping helping of salt on the wound! So just take your candles and dinner and get the hell out of my quarters."
"Are you quite finished?"
"Yes."
"Very well then let us return to our meal." He said holding out a hand toward her.
She responded with an agitated glare. "I've lost my appetite."
"Well I find my self quite hungry. I spent my morning meal period arranging the details of our dinner, and my afternoon meal period configuring three thousand nine hundred and twenty two digitals lights into a visual representation of the stars as viewed from the center of Florence, although it does appear now to have been a wasted gesture on my part."
"What….why…"
"It is Valentine's Day Christine. Is it not a day for settling matters of the heart?"
"Matters of the heart?"
"I concur that we should schedule our meetings that relate to ship's business during our duty shifts and reserve our off duty time to meetings of a more… intimate nature."
"Intimate nature? So…all of this, you…meant for it to be…romantic?"
"I admit, as a Vulcan, the concept of romance is rather difficult to grasp, but I have endeavored to abide by the proprieties and protocols that are deemed important to creating an atmosphere conducive to the engendering of romantic feelings."
He reached out and took her arm, gently steering her toward the candlelit table.
"Computer, lights ten percent." He whispered as he pulled out her chair, then suddenly her eyes widened.
"Wait...what exactly is the pledge of joining?"
This time she was quite certain that he smiled. He wrapped his arms tenderly around her pulling the startled woman her into a long, slow, deep kiss. When he finally broke the kiss Christine found herself barely able to catch her breath. "Ah…joining."
His warm hands moved eagerly and possessively over her and his soft lips reclaimed hers in a tenderly probing kiss.
"I thought you were hungry?" she teased as their lips parted.
"I am quite hungry," he whispered, his voice heavy with desire as he took her hand and led her toward the sleeping alcove.
"I hope I can provide 'sufficient motivation'."
"Oh I am quite confident that you will provide more than sufficient motivation." He whispered as he undid the fastening of her dress, and his warm wet mouth moved with tantalizing slowness down her body Christine groaned with pleasure and she felt his other hand as it moved to her temple his facile fingertips seeking out the psi points.
Joining…yes…alien words, thoughts, images and yes she realized with a start Vulcan emotions washed over her, through her, exploring her emotions and desires, each like a golden thread, finding a compliment within the heart of the other and twining together…joining them into one.
She allowed herself one final cognizant thought before surrendering to the building taunami of human and Vulcan passions churning within her.
"Maybe Valentine's Day isn't so bad after all."
"