Her Name
Spock and Brandon had spent the better half of the summer working on the Kobayashi Maru, or the "Kangaroo" as Brandon referred to it. They were in the middle of their research and were at an impasse. It was the move-in day of the new fall semester and he and Brandon were stuck in a research science lab arguing over the merits and fundamentals of the test.
"Spocko, I understand the logic behind the test, but I don't think you fully get the repercussions of what you're putting these cadets through," Brandon countered.
"The purposes of this particular test are to see the repercussions," Spock countered.
"I know, I know. I just think that the test is entirely too… bleak," Brandon responded.
"The very acknowledgement of certain death is bleak," Spock responded.
"All logic aside, and I know this is difficult for you to comprehend, but human beings find death to be a tragic thing, Spock. You just can't throw them into a situation that tests the very basis of human psychology and expect most species to react as a Vulcan."
"Acceptance of certain death is a necessary trait of a Starfleet Captain," Spock responded coolly.
"Agreed, however, I still say that the Kangaroo is a goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation. Long story short, the test is fatalism at its best."
"The idea of Fate is precisely what I'm trying to avoid, Brandon," Spock responded. Brandon hung his head in his hands. After four years and only one argument won, Brandon still insisted on arguing with Spock. Brandon's hand swept thru his blonde hair and he exhaled with annoyance.
"Ok, let's take a look at the scenario," Brandon started, and Spock tried to listen, but something outside of the room caught his eye. Spock's attentions turned to the courtyard below them, to a host of new cadets moving into the dorms. Brandon continued to drone on in the background, pleading his case, but Spock was unwittingly distracted and happily so.
His eyes shown with a fierce, deep brown as he watched two cadets stroll up the courtyard. One cadet was a young Orion female and the other was a dark-skinned girl with devilishly long and black hair. The dark-skinned cadet was who Spock was watching intently.
Spock doesn't quite understand his interest in the cadet at first, but his mind is whirling with many questions. He wonders what the cadet is studying, he wonders if she's as smart as she is beautiful, he wonders what her name is, and a small part of him wonders what she tastes like though he doesn't quite understand that response. He knows it's illogical to enjoy the way that any other being walks but he loves the way that she moves instantly. Her gait is unlike any other humans, not leading with her head or with her chest; it's her hips that move when she walks, swaying non-sexually back and forth as she strides up the courtyard with her friend. He sees her laugh and wants more than anything to be the source of that response on her face. The smile that she has is intoxicating.
He watches as both his cadet of interest and her Orion friend are accosted by a handsome male cadet, the Orion girl taking instant interest. He is delighted to find that his cadet (strange the he is so possessive) is neither interested nor paying the male cadet any heed. His cadet even seems agitated at the male cadet's presence. Spock is instantly infatuated.
"Fascinating," Spock says aloud, in spite of all of his control.
"Did you hear a word I just said?" Brandon asks, his eyes crinkling at the corners in annoyance and turning to look at Spock. The sound of Brandon's voice clears the air for Spock and he turns to look at Brandon, shocked that he'd allowed himself to, what was it called, oh yes, "Daydream," about the younger woman walking up the courtyard.
"What are you looking at?" Brandon asks, walking over to the window and watching as the whirl and rush of humanity passes them by. He follows Spock's line of sight and notes both the Orion cadet and the dark-skinned one.
"Freshman meat eh? Which one?" Brandon asks, taking the time to appraise both women. Brandon quirks an eyebrow at Spock; waiting for a response.
"I do not know of what you speak," Spock responds, turning his attention back to Brandon, quite befuddled with the metaphor.
"Freshman cadets arriving at Starfleet, we call them fresh meat, because they're young, untouched and tender. Those two are definitely fresh meat. Which one were you staring at?" Brandon is excited, and twirls his wedding ring on his finger. Spock watches him and swallows largely.
"I was not staring at any "fresh meat," as you put it," Spock says, trying to recover his composure, "And neither should you be."
"Spock, I've known you for almost five years and I consider you a friend. Despite all of your Vulcan stoicism, I can still tell when you're, shall we call it, intrigued by something. I'm looking out this window and I see two beautiful, young women, and I see a good friend that desperately needs to get laid."
"That is completely inappropriate," Spock starts. Brandon holds up a hand for him to stop.
"I know I'm married, but I still know a beautiful woman when I see one. Those women are beautiful. And since you're single, I want nothing more than for you to act as if you're single."
"My species does not consider sex a temporary recreational activity. When Vulcans mate, we mate for life," Spock responds, not completely turning from the window. The dark-skinned girl is smiling again and he is mesmerized.
"Yeah, but you're also half-human, so half of you is dying for the loving touch of a woman. If not half, then maybe a fourth," Brandon jokes. Spock is amused to say the least, he quirks his lips into a small stoic semi-smile and looks at Brandon.
"The one with the long hair is fascinating," Spock responds after a moment of silence. Brandon watches as the dark cadet sways like the billowy trees in the courtyard. He realizes that Spock has good taste.
"That's one hell of walk she's got on her." Brandon comments.
"She walks differently than most humans, I've noticed."
"Good, you noticed her, that's a start," Brandon walks away from the window that Spock refuses to leave and sits on a tall stool.
"A start to what" Spock asks, his eyebrows hitting the top of his forehead.
"Something resembling romance; Becka and I are concerned for you. You're one of my closest friends and I think that you need to find the right girl, whatever her species, and settle down and have a family. I know it's the Vulcan way to do that pon farr thing every seven years, but you're still half-human. I've seen women, beautiful women, smart women, charming women that are interested in you. I'll be going away on a three-year mission in six months and I just want to see that you're taken care of, that's all."
"You and Becka discuss me?" Spock asked, amused and surprised.
"Sometimes at length, I don't think you understand how much my wife really does adore you. She's thinking about naming the bun in the oven after you," Brandon responded.
"She's going to name a loaf of bread after me, I suppose that is a compliment," Spock responded. Brandon chuckled.
"No, Becka's pregnant!" Brandon clamped down on Spock's shoulder in joy. Spock winced a bit.
"Congratulations," Spock responded stoically. It was quiet for only a moment until Brandon spoke again.
"Spock, seeing as the Kangaroo is almost jumping," Spock mentally laughed at Brandon's metaphor, "and that the USS Lincoln is going to be taking off soon, I just wanted to tell you all of this. I don't know if Vulcans have friends or whatever, but I just want you to know that you are my friend and I want you to… live deep and soak up all the marrow of life."
"And how do you propose I take action in this venture?" Spock queried.
"Find out her name… her full name, that's a start. I don't see how it could hurt anything. You got four years until you're on a five-year mission on the Enterprise. That gives you time, I know how slowly you work," Brandon smiled. Spock responded in a face that Brandon could only assume was the half-Vulcan's amused expression.
"Your words are under consideration," Spock said, turning to look Brandon fully in his blue eyes, "and I consider you a friend as well, Brandon." The Texan smiled fully and turned back to the computer to consider all of the options for the Kobayashi Maru.
"What's so fascinating about her anyway, Spock?" Brandon asked, wondering what this one woman could have over all the other women he'd seen interested in Spock over the last four years. Spock wanted to smile but his face so unaccustomed to the gesture that he couldn't physically accomplish the movement.
"Six years ago I saw a woman that looked like her in an Earth magazine that my brother, Sybok, showed me in the hidden confines of his room," Spock responded. Brandon's eyebrow hit the ceiling.
"Playboy? I can remember the issue, April, Stardate 2248. Yeah, her name was Nichelle, goddess if I do say so myself. Not my type, but still perfect," Brandon smiled.
"You have seen this picture?" Spock responded. Brandon laughed.
"Who'd have thought you, of all creatures in the universe, would have an ideal woman. That's pretty illogical, wouldn't you say," Brandon asked rhetorically and turned his attentions back to the task at hand.
Spock is quiet for a moment walking away from the window, contemplating how he could find out her complete name. He thinks that he should just ask her one day.