10. Annoyance
It had been nearly three weeks since Constance returned to Earth along with Admiral Forrest for the debriefing, but he never imagined it would be so short lived. She could not believe she was going back to Vulcan. She had thought that she would resume her previous posting for Starfleet Intelligence in San Francisco. But the Chief of Starfleet Intelligence had been impressed by her service over the years and the intel she had acquired regarding the xenophobic organization, Terra Prime. He desired to form an intelligence team that would continue to monitor for xenophobic cells in space. This was coming in light of the rumblings that Terra Prime influence had made its way to the Lunar colony. They did not want to discount the possibility that xenophobic influence could make its way to the United Earth Embassy on Vulcan as well. It was of the upmost importance that Earth and Vulcan maintain their alliance.
In truth she did not mind. She felt as though there was nothing back on Earth for her any longer. She had very little family left, and Her previous team had disbanded and some of the other officers were assigned to other posts throughout the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. Not only that, but she had been more excited to return to Earth with the prospect of Major Hayes returning as well. After recent events everything had changed.
She was being transported back to the Embassy via yet another Vulcan convoy ship. She was starting to wonder if Starfleet had any other ships other than Enterprise and Colombia. Even still, she was getting used to being on a Vulcan ship. It was quiet and she enjoyed the solitude it afforded. Most of the Vulcans aboard either ignored her or did not seem to notice her at all. It did not bother her; she spent most of her time in her quarters anyway. However, by the third night of the journey, she was starting to get cabin fever. She had to do something about it. When she knew that most of the Vulcans would be meditating or sleeping she took the opportunity to sit by one of the large round windows in the cafeteria. Thankfully, it was blissfully empty. She had brought a book, but found herself staring out into space. She wondered if she would ever get tired of watching the stars fly by.
Out of curiosity she tried a cup of hot Vulcan tea from the replicator. It was surprisingly spicy. It tasted like a combination of cinnamon and ginger, but with more of a bite. Of the Vulcan foods that she was adventurous enough to try most were either extremely bland or extremely spicy and had little about their appearance to distinguish what flavor profile they would be end up being. It was like Russian roulette. She had once eaten a dish so spicy that she had tears running down her cheeks and it had taken nearly twenty minutes before she could feel her tongue again. Thankfully no Vulcans had been in the vicinity when the incident occurred.
That evening she had decided to stick to what she knew so she cut up an apple she had brought back with her from Earth and was carefully eating it with a fork. Though there were no Vulcans around she did not wish to offend any that might come in by eating it with her fingers. She opened her book slowly taking a sip of her tea.
Her solitude was short lived. Twenty minutes into half-heartedly leafing through the book she heard the door to the cafeteria chime. She glanced up briefly. She was surprised to see the Vulcan Ambassador, Soval. She had not seen him since he had been recalled to Earth for the debriefing and that had been concluded nearly a week ago. He briefly made eye contact with her before he walked over to the replicator and ordered a cup of tea. She began furiously flipping through her book in effort to appear preoccupied. She almost did not notice when Ambassador Soval stood at the table in front of her.
"May I sit?" He asked indicating to the chair across from her. It was clearly a question, but his tone was commanding. Constance was taken off guard.
"Of course," she said after a second. She sat a little straighter in her chair and closed her book. He sat down across from her, and took a sip of his tea. She realized she had never really looked at him. Of course she had seen him, but never had taken the time to really study him. He was not handsome in a conventional sense, but his features were striking even for a Vulcan. He had unusually full lips and dark wide set eyes. His upswept eyebrows gave him a serious, almost defiant appearance. Pointed ears poked out from the usual Vulcan male hairstyle. He was not as lean and wiry as other Vulcan men and was instead tall with broad shoulders and had a more muscular build. His graying hair gave him a mature, distinguished appearance and it gave her leave to wonder about his age. It was always difficult to tell with Vulcans given most of them lived well beyond two hundred years old.
When she realized she had been openly staring she felt a blush beginning to form and she willed herself to look away. She turned her eyes to his clothes instead. She noticed he was not wearing his usual ambassadorial robes and was instead wearing a casual tunic type shirt and pants. It was as informal as she had ever seen him. After a moment he broke the silence.
"I have been informed you are returning to the United Earth Embassy as head of an intelligence team preemptively monitoring for terrorist cells," he said. He stared at her, unflinchingly holding her gaze. It was a little unnerving at first, but she continued to stare back at him. Vulcans often maintained eye contact to indicate their undivided attention, but humans often mistook it as a form of intimidation.
"Yes, you were correctly informed," she answered. She was not sure where his line of questioning was headed.
"You will report any threats pertaining to Vulcan directly to me," he stated. His presumptuousness struck a nerve. Oh, so that's how it's going to be, she thought. She purposefully disregarded his statement.
"I will no longer be reporting directly to Admiral Forrest. My direct superior is the Chief of Starfleet Intelligence on Earth. And Starfleet Intelligence operates outside the bounds of Starfleet Command," she said.
"Yes and the Chief of Starfleet Intelligence informed me that as head of the division on Vulcan, you will keep me apprised of any pertinent information regarding the safety of Vulcan so I may alert the High Command." It seemed that the Chief had neglected to tell her that she was also to report to the Ambassador Soval. She bit her lip. She did not like to learn of key information second hand.
"Of course, however we have to operate with some mode of transparency. I will expect you to be equally forthright in sharing information," she stated sharply. She knit her eyebrows as she glared at him. He looked slightly taken aback by her unexpected candor. He pressed his lips together and set his chin.
"It is a reasonable request," he stated after a turn picking up his tea. She softened slightly at his acquiescence.
"Listen, I know you are concerned. I assure you I take my position very seriously," she said.
"Concern is a human emotion. On Vulcan we follow stringent protocols which, I know from experience, are lacking on Earth," he said. "I certainly hope you understand what is at stake," he said. She suddenly felt the blood rushing to her face. She endeavored to invoke every ounce of control she had in her body to project a Vulcan-like calm. She knew it was illogical, but she felt as if he was trying to get a rise out of her. She would not give him the satisfaction. Especially since he was the one who had interrupted her much desired solitude.
In fact, the more she thought about it the more she was annoyed she became. Who was he to suddenly question her abilities? Only the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth, of course, but she did not like anyone assuming she was not up to par without the evidence to back it up. He was easily becoming the most confusing, contrary person she had ever met. One moment he seemed normal and thoughtful even, for a Vulcan as least, and in the next he was infuriatingly condescending. It was about all she could take.
"Ambassador Soval, please excuse me. I need to retire," she said. She stood abruptly. She left without another word completely forgetting her book and tea on the table.
It was the last night of the journey to Vulcan. She had tried to spend most of the day away from her quarters but the anxious feeling she felt the night before was returning in full force. She was desperate to get off of the ship. With few options she reluctantly decided to head to the cafeteria again. She silently prayed that she would not have another run in with the Vulcan Ambassador. She saw enough of him in her dreams. And before long they would be working together even more often. He could be so infernal. She was not sure how she was going to handle dealing with him. She wondered at how Admiral Forrest got along so well with him.
When she reached the cafeteria she saw that it was empty. After ordering a cup of tea she walked over to her usual perch and she sunk into the chair. Staring out the window she watched at the stars slide past. It was oddly calming; she felt her eyelids growing heavy. She was emotionally drained. She was not sure how long she was sitting there staring out into space when a noise behind her brought her back to reality. It was Ambassador Soval. He was standing in front of where she sat at the table. Her heart sunk. She did not want to get into it again with him.
"May I sit?" He asked. It was déjà vu all over again. She swallowed and nodded reluctantly. He seemed uncomfortable. She did not know him well, but she had spent enough time with him to know when he was not acting in his usual dour manner. He sat down carefully smoothing his robes before he went on to speak.
"I realized I was wrong in my approach to you the last night. You are doing a great service for our worlds," he stated. He avoided making eye contact. "I should not have spoken to you in such a manner." Constance blinked. She could barely believe her ears. For a moment she wondered if she had fallen asleep and was dreaming.
"Are you apologizing to me?" She asked raising an eyebrow. He pressed his lips together and set his chin.
"Yes, Officer Corcoran, I am apologizing to you," he said through his teeth as he narrowed his eyes. She could tell by his tone the words did not come easily. She softened slightly in her appraisal of him. His apology, though forced, had surprised her. Vulcans were not in the habit of thanking or apologizing for things, and she appreciated the effort.
"Thank you," she said quietly. They sat in awkward silence for a moment. Ambassador Soval pulled something out from a pocket in his robes. It was her book. She had forgotten that she had abandoned it in her haste to leave the night before. Her eyes were wide.
"My book… Thank you," she said taking it from his grasp. She turned it over in her hand. She had been so careless. The book had once belonged to her father. It was one of the few things she had left of him. She suddenly felt very weary.
"Can we start over?" She asked looking at Ambassador Soval. He shifted in his seat.
"I'm not sure I understand your query," he said.
"I mean this thing between us. If we are going to be working together we need learn to trust each other. We can't always be arguing and trying to make a point at every turn," she said. She unconsciously rubbed her thumb along the rim of her mug. He looked at her holding her gaze. She was starting to get used to staring into his eyes.
"Yes," he said simply. His reply was clipped, but she knew it was genuine. Perhaps he too was tired of being at odds with her. She nodded and took a sip of her tea. It felt as though the tension between them was dissipating.
"The book you left– ," He stated, looking over at the book in her hand curiously.
"Yes, War and Peace, it's a novel from the nineteenth century. This is only the first volume," she answered before he could finish, turning the book over in her hands.
"And you are reading it on paper," he stated. His tone sounded curious if not a little lofty as though he was amazed she would still be using such a primitive artifact. Truth be told the book was very old. The worn edges and tanned pages revealed its age. It was the first U.S. edition, printed well before United Earth had even been a thought. The six volume set had been in her father's collection before she had inherited it.
"Well, I like the smell of books," she said a little defensively. She realized how odd the statement sounded said aloud. She blushed. They had just agreed to start over and she still had her hackles raised. She started again desperate for some sort of segue. "There are studies that have shown that humans can smell genetic compatibly of a potential mate. Not that that has anything to do with the book. It's more in reference to the fact there are some smells that are more pleasurable-," she was rambling, incoherently at that. What the hell was she saying? She cursed herself mentally. She always started talking nonsensically when she felt cornered. The Ambassador, however, did not miss a beat.
"You are referring the studies conducted by Claus Wedekind on Earth. We had similar studies on Vulcan. There was some merit to the findings. Vulcan females do have a heightened sense of smell," he stated. She was grateful he did not seem to notice her momentary misstep. Or if he did, he was being kind enough to ignore it. They sat in silence for a moment. After a turn she spoke again.
"Can I ask you a question?" She asked looking at him.
"You just did, but you may ask another," he said. She noticed that the edge of his lips curled, almost imperceptibly. It softened his normally austere appearance by a fraction. He looked almost relaxed. She wondered if this was his attempt at humor. Perhaps it was another consequence of his years on Earth.
"Do Vulcans dream?" She asked. It was a serious question. She noticed that he straightened in his chair. He looked down at his hands for a moment before answering.
"No, not typically," he said slowly.
"Oh," she replied. She was disappointed. He had been appearing in her dreams with such frequency that she had thought it might mean something. The only thing it seemed to indicate was that she was crazy. When she looked at him again his demeanor had changed. His face was stoic again. He was wearing his usual Vulcan look of non-expression.
"Why do you ask?" He sat up even straighter in his seat.
"Curiosity, I suppose," she lied. "Humans dream all the time. I've been–," she stopped and looked away. It seemed ridiculous to continue when it obviously did not mean anything. And she certainly was not going to tell him that he was the star of her nightly trips to La-La-Land. She looked out the window as she absentmindedly thumbed the rim of her mug of tea again.
He watched her fingers looking even surlier than usual if that were possible. He stood up abruptly. She looked back up at him. "Officer Corcoran, please excuse me. I need to meditate before I retire," he stated. She gave him a small smile and bit her lip. A small part of her worried she had done something to offend him.
"You can call me, Constance," she offered. "Most people do," she added quickly looking away. She did not want him to think she was pushing the boundaries of their acquaintance or whatever this was. He nodded in acknowledgement and turned to walk toward the door. She watched him leave. Her felt her heart flutter involuntarily. Her stomach tightened as she recognized her symptoms and knew there was nothing she could do to stop it. She looked back out the window and wondered how she had arrived at this point.