Notes: Just to make sure this chapter isn't confusing, here is a cheatsheet with the first names of several characters:
Lt. Denise Palmer
Dr. Carol Marcus
Lt. Becca Hannity
Specialist Angela Martine
Lt. Nyota Uhura
Rising to the Occasion: Chapter 10
T'Lok ignored stares from the mostly human Enterprise personnel as she strode down the corridor to a conference room at the end. She held a tray with sandwiches—little prepared foods made from vegetables, meats, and cheeses put between two pieces of starch—tea, and a pitcher of ice water.
This was a privilege she had not used in many years. While a Vulcan woman would not serve anyone other than her mate and children, Healers could do anything and everything in the performance of their duties. She entered the room, door already open, and set the tray down on the table. Her clients, Denise, Angela, and Becca were all busy working on their current assignment.
She turned at the mental reverberation. Nyota entered the room, and the presence she unconsciously projected had everyone looking up and turning towards her.
Like plants to sun, T'Lok thought. She sat back after giving her clients a little push to refresh themselves.
"Report," Nyota said as she poured herself a cup of tea.
"I spoke with the Denevan Council. The Orion Officer, which is what they are all calling her, was picked up by the U.S.S. Beirut two days ago." Denise brushed her straw blonde hair out of her face and was handed a glass of water by Angela, who was serving everyone. Her wide eyes see the strain they are putting on their bodies the Healer thought.
"The Beirut is bound for a penal colony," Denise continued, "but they had no idea which one."
"Oh, this isn't good..." Becca began, looking down at her console. She displayed what she was looking at on the conference room's main viewer. It was a symbol, a blue Terra with what looked like a weapon spearing it down the middle.
"What is that?" Angela asked, stopping her anxious caregiving in shock.
"That's the logo the ships that stand with the Tompkins are using," Carol said as she entered, and T'Lok gave her a push too. She grabbed a sandwich, but not before shooting the Vulcan Healer a look.
"Is it really as bad as they are saying?" Nyota asked, directing her question to Carol.
"Well, I don't know what they are saying, but the weapons specialists aboard all those ships are thrilled." Carol moved towards Becca and asked, "Who is assigned to weapons R and D on the Beirut?"
"Lt. Michaels and Commander Sigurdsson," Becca supplied. Carol's head snapped up and she made eye contact with Uhura.
"Bad. Very bad."
"Those are high ranks," Denise said, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed.
"As you may or may not know, weapons development is a planet-bound job for the most part," Carol explained, "mostly theoretical modeling and testing. Then building, and then really the only reason to go out into space would be for a live test. All of that is to say, there were plenty of Starfleet weapons experts left-" she then cleared her throat.
Her clients were always very conscientious about mentioning that day in her presence. Yet again, T'Lok was moved and suppressed a rising tide of emotionalism.
"Wait, so why are they happy now then?" again, Angela asked the question that several of them were wondering.
"They are happy because they are getting to do experiments that they would not get to do otherwise," Carol said slowly, her voice sharp with an underlying edge, "because their Science Officer is giving them free reign."
For a moment all of the women stood in silence, digesting that.
"Palmer, get the Beirut up on comms," Nyota ordered Denise, who bent over the console apparently attempting just that. Then she put her metallic earpiece in and T'Lok heard the exchange between her and what must have been a comparable Communications staff person on the Beirut. Denise spoke quietly, but turned away from the group as she tried to negotiate.
"What's going on?" Nyota asked.
"-wait-" Denise hit a button muting her end of the line, "-no one will speak to me without 'authorization'-Yes, yes..." Denise muted and unmuted the line, going back and forth between Nyota and the male comms officer on the line.
"'Authorization?'" Martine said in surprise. Nyota rushed forward, took out a pale yellow tape and plugged it into the computer.
If T'Lok listened carefully, she could hear the person on the other end of the subspace signal play the tape. It was a recording of Captain Kirk giving Nyota full powers to collect information on Enterprise's behalf.
"Now we're getting somewhere..." Denise said, and in seconds the room's viewer was filled with the image of a Starfleet officer on the station of a very different looking ship.
His uniform looked the same save for a gold sash around his waist that the Healer had never seen anyone on Enterprise wear. Behind him, the dagger-planet image was painted in white on a red door.
"This is Specialist Peter Nelson of the U.S.S. Beirut. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?" While his tone and speaking speed were fine at first, by the second sentence he was more casual than his position would suggest he should be. T'Lok did not like the way the human male looked at her clients.
"Lt. Uhura, from Enterprise. We are on an emergency mission, tracking a lost passenger from the U.S.S. Farragut. We believe you picked her up from Deneva. Is the Orion woman still on your ship?"
While Nyota's tone was brisk and authoritative, this Specialist Peter Nelson did not seem to grasp the meaning of emergency. He pulled a plastic stylus from his belt and toyed with it.
"Maybe she is. Maybe she isn't. What's it to you?" he asked.
"This is an emergency mission, Specialist. Do you have the Orion woman passenger aboard your ship or not?" Nyota was getting agitated, and T'Lok lent her calm strength.
"Oh, I love it when a woman pulls rank. Far be it for me, a lowly Specialist, not to..."
"Lifesigns on the Beirut do not include an Orion, Lt.," Becca said.
"And the Beirut was at Deneva two days ago, where it took on a prisoner. Their next destination was Elba Two," Denise added.
"A prisoner?!" Nyota straightened, staring Specialist Peter Nelson directly in the face. "Your prisoner was, in fact, a Starfleet officer who was lost in combat. Your unprofessional actions have caused us a delay in finding her, and that delay..." she stopped herself, letting out a breath through her nose and shaking her head back and forth as if to rid herself of the thought. "I will report you for this!"
"Oh kay..." Specialist Peter Nelson did not seem afraid. Denise cut the connection without needing an order from Nyota.
"Here's what we are going to do," Nyota rose and, without the need for a telepathic connection or suggestion, Denise, Carol, Becca, and Angela rose with her.
"Hannity, report to the Bridge and give them the course instructions. When the landing party are dropped off at Ardana, the Enterprise will make as good a time as possible to Elba Two. Palmer, please work with Mr. Scott to cut down our possible time as much as we can. Martine, make preparations for a landing party consisting of you, at least one Security officer, Dr. Marcus, and Palmer to beam down to the space station. Dr. Marcus, you were just on a penal colony, so brief me on the way to the Bridge about penal colony security policies."
T'Lok was left standing in an empty conference room, grateful that the platter, pot, and pitcher were all empty as well.
"RonEE!"
"RonEE!"
Two female voices called out to each other across space, and in his tiny ship ciphering bots picked up the signal and opened its channel of origin.
Sybok was ready this time, standing in the cooking area of his ship. He chopped a large root up while watching two pictures form. On either side of the wall above his flight console screens appeared to frame the images.
In one stood Sabbas, the Navigator of the family Mosu-Vohareyak Igen. She was a Vulcanoid female with straight brown hair that fell in curtains around her face, interrupted only by thick bangs over her forehead.
...not unlike a Priestess Sybok thought to himself, watching as if he were just a third person in the conversation, one who chose to be silent.
The other screen held Nekae, the Bridge of Mosu-Vohareyak Igen. Her hair was a distracting, chaotic mass of curls and she lounged lazily on what looked like a shuttle bucket seat. In her lap a black litka was asleep, though periodically he would open one eye and lift his head slightly before curling back into a ball.
"So what's new? What's now? What's ringin'?" Nekae was loud and musical, her voice and body language telling him that she felt safe. He could almost imagine they both knew he was there, and were completely fine with him listening to them.
"Ugh! My comm, for one!" Now Sabbas spoke, shaking her head and throwing out her hair with every syllable. "Every time I run into Dutar I just lose it and start babbling, which inevitably leads me to say something insane and then I pretend my comm is ringing."
"What'dyou mean, insane?" Nekae often asked questions, her way to keep the conversation moving. Sybok had observed her on calls with several members of her family now, and was starting to get to know her habits.
He had not yet discovered how she was staying in communication with his brother, but he knew it was via feed and was confident he would hack into it eventually. Even so, he was desperately curious.
Did she speak to his brother this way?
"Oh! Like yesterday, when I came out of my cabin rubbing my hands with a whale butter block and right into Dutar. He asked me what I was doing and I started babbling about softening my hands and how, "I always keep my hands softened, just in case..."
Nekae laughed wildly, kicking up her legs and making the litka mewl as he scrambled off her lap.
"Don't laugh. Don't laugh. This is so humiliating..."
"No no no girl! You are doing this all wrong. He is madly in love with you, I can tell. And right now is perfect because you are his neighbor, he doesn't know a lot about you-aside from the fact that you keep your hands ready to work a lok-"
Sabbas lowered her face into her hands dramatically, groaning as Nekae continued-
"-so he won't get attached. Just sit it and split it, krei, sit it and split it!
They both laughed for a minute, and then took a few extra moments to smoke. Currently it was stickysticks, but he had observed an impressive range in their intoxicant use so far.
"You know that ChichiRi and Tazukei are on the familyship?" Sabbas asked, starting a new conversation about familial affairs. ChichiRi was the Disciple of the family Mosu-Vohareyak Igen and Tazukei the Bruiser.
"Wait, so Sa-kuk Chi and Sa-kuk Tasz are crammed on ship with D'erryl and D'ectyr? Yeah, that's a recipe for fun."
All the sudden he felt a rush of vulnerability, a reminder that he wasn't a consensual partner in this conversation. D'ectyr was the Beacon of Mosu-Vohareyak Igen and D'erryl was his partner. Should Sabbas or Nekae return to the familyship with an accomplished Machinist and Beacon on board his voyeurism would be unwise. Nomads didn't care for privacy, but the clansmen of Mosu-Vohareyak Igen would not appreciate their women being watched.
"I don't know," Sabbas said, pausing to take another deep breath of sticky smoke, "it might be fun, family and all. And it would be nice to take a break."
"That's my problem!" Nekae stood up this time, stretching, "I've been taking too many breaks. I'm being so lazy about my prophecy. At this point, I've probably missed it and am going to have to make up some time in a lap."
As Nekae took a deep breath, Sabbas nodded and encouraged her.
"Alright. You can totally do this. You'll recommit to discovering the identity of the Falling Woman and we'll-"
"-After the party," Nekae added.
"-wait, what party?"
Sybok filled his roaster pot with roots and poured in some broth. As he listened, he capped the pot and set the heat. Pouring himself some tea, he left the food prep area and moved to the console, sitting down with a screen on either side of him. As his food cooked he listened to Nekae explain how his brother had asked her to a diplomatic function.
He wanted to know what his brother was thinking. He needed to understand the younger Vulcan's motivations. After so many years, he needed to feel some sort of connection to him again, to the sibling he encouraged and protected in his youth.
"Well, he sent me a pic of him in a pale blue. So what do you think? This one or this one?"
Then his carefully-cultivated voyeuristic tendencies took over and he watched, rapt as the Nomads discussed clothes. His eyes moved over their relaxed shoulders and loose limbs, took in the lackadaisical way Nekae tossed dresses, wraps, and accessories and the casual tilt of her hips as she modeled for her krie.
Even though it was the Captain who issued the invitation, Mr. Spock inevitably arrived first (on time). He chose an alcove that had a table with the 3d chess board built in and started to arrange the pieces.
Spock was aware of the moment Kirk stepped foot on the Observation Deck. The Captain's effervescent social behaviors grated on Spock initially, but now he saw them as a way to make the most of every moment afforded to him as a Command officer. Even now as he crossed the Observation Deck the Captain stopped briefly to greet each person he passed by name.
Spock took his role as First Officer with all due seriousness, including the more uncomfortable socializing, and had a mental map of every crewperson on the Enterprise with notations for each person detailing the last time he had greeted them. When he first found himself annoyed by how the Captain would greet people as they walked, he made a similar map of the Captain's crew interactions as a meditative exercise.
It was then that he realized that the Captain's method was more effective than his own, in that he reached more people in a shorter stretch of time, thus using his overall amount of time more effectively. Further, as the Captain did this while he and his First Officer were walking the length of the ship, he fit the task of crew bonding in all of the gaps left between their other, larger work duties.
More and more Spock was coming to realize that his human companions behaved in ways that seemed illogical but were in fact both reasonable and highly efficient. McCoy, for example, whose "get togethers" strongly coincided with the Physician relaxing his requirement that Command crew get quarterly psychosocial evaluations.
"I'll have to get down there to talk with him sometime! I can only imagine what observations our resident Horta might have about the Enterprise!" Kirk stepped past the last person, Specialist Williams from Linguistics, who just started testing her translator modifications on the hatched baby Horta they had aboard ship.
"Hey Spock," Kirk said, sliding into his chair. Immediately Spock's subconscious observations raised an internal red alert.
Kirk's voice went from 78 decibels as he spoke with the linguist to 70 decibels in greeting Spock. And while this behavior was normal for McCoy, a tacit acknowledgment of Spock's Vulcan hearing, Kirk was usually the opposite.
"Greetings Jim," he said, an accommodation of his own at the Captain's urging, and a reminder to them both that they were off-duty, "If I'm not mistaken, you are on white today."
"I can't imagine you are, Spock," the Captain shot back with a grin. Spock realized that whatever discussion Jim was building up to, he was not going to start it with others around. He relaxed his own posture and mapped out the board in response to Jim's first move.
After his seventh move, the last group left the Observation Deck, all with plans to go by Recreation for some off-duty exercise. Jim got progressively more quiet as the deck emptied, and now Spock was at a loss as to how to start whatever conversation his colleague was dreading.
His friend. They were friends, and to Vulcans that came with an obligation to help, advise, and support when necessary.
"Spock," Jim began and then stopped, as if he was even now reconsidering this discussion. After several moments passed, the Vulcan nudged the conversation forward.
"Yes, Captain?"
"Jim, Spock, I told you. When we're off-duty, call me Jim."
After a few moments of silence and another set of moves traded, Jim started again.
"I know the way we do things is different," he began.
"We have differences," Spock acknowledged, comfortable quoting Surak even if Jim did not recognize the reference.
"I just mean, when it comes to women we obviously do things differently."
The red alert was going off now, a klaxon in his mind.
Perhaps, if he brought Lt Uhura the last of his fire fruit tea she would be willing to talk him through this discussion.
"That is true, Jim." He could not tell whether his response was wrong or right based on Kirk's reaction. The human expelled air and leaned forward.
"I mean, you know me better than almost anyone else here. Maybe not better than Bones, but as well. We spend more time together than we do with anyone else, and I know you see things."
Ah, he is concerned about his privacy, Spock thought.
"All is silence on the Enterprise, Jim." Spock silently hoped his slight modification of Surak's tenets was not heretical.
"No no, that's not what I mean," Jim was moving his hands now, as he often did when talking excitedly. Spock was glad there was a table and a chess set between them.
"This is my fault," Jim began again, "because I'm not being clear." At this, the human seemed to ignore their game entirely, looking at him in a way Spock was wholly uncomfortable with.
"Here's what I mean: I sleep with women. Sometimes men too, and I'm totally not hung up on gender as far as that goes. And I know I'm not breaking regulation, but I think I might still be messing up. Hurting people. And I know that coming to you for advice about women is pretty crazy-no offense!-but you've always behaved like a gentleman and I think I might be..."
Spock held out his hand and, miraculously, the flow of words stopped.
"On Earth, there are an impressive number of options for moral and ethical systems available for a human to ascribe to, enough for it to be confusing. On Vulcan, in my experience, there is only one. I can see how having fewer options can both constrict and relieve."
Jim nodded, leaning back. One thing he appreciated about this human was the allowance he gave Spock to be pedantic when necessary.
"One thing many of Earth's ethical systems have in common is the idea of a covenant. As an Iowan, raised in a state where over half your fellow Iowans are Christian, you are probably familiar with this term."
"Yeah, like how Christians believe God has a covenant with man..." Jim trailed off, obviously a little lost.
"Yes, and parents with children, and husbands with wives. This covenant is the promise to remember that the other being in any interaction is as real, as emotional, and as vulnerable as you are."
This seemed to hit the proper chord with the Captain, and he leaned back.
"And while that has not always been the case in your reactions of this type since you joined Enterprise, Vulcans have a saying that, when combined with this human ethic could be of some use to you."
Jim leaned forward, nodding, and Spock went on.
"There is no wisdom and no hope for us but that we grow wise."
For 8.3 seconds there was silence, and Jim played with his remaining bishop, obviously thinking over what was said between them. Then he looked up with the earnest expression that Spock was all-too familiar with now.
"Thank you Spock. I mean that." As he spoke he rose, and Spock got the feeling his friend had just made a decision.
That night Spock forewent his meditation, staying up late to go over the lab rotation schedule. He was awake when the reprimand order went out, and he read and reread the headline of the message on his padd, working through its implications.
Captain James Tiberius Kirk requests a formal reprimand for conduct unbecoming a Senior Officer.
Thank you for reading!
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Goodies: The first part of this chapter is Uhura and her BAMF team. If you want more info about them, including casting suggestions, check out southernsexynstuf on tumblr.