Gardens in the Rain, chapter 13
With everything calm on the bridge once again, Spock decided that the time was opportune to review the upcoming science lab schedule. The day had actually been quite monotonous. They had spent the morning in Torsall's offices gathering business records, but after that, they had returned to their more routine duties. Now, his shift was technically over, but perhaps he could complete a few more short tasks before he left. He had no sooner pulled up the schedule when Lieutenant Feinstein's voice encroached on his thoughts.
"Admiral? Message from Starfleet Command."
Kirk glanced over his shoulder. "On screen."
The weathered face of Admiral Matthews appeared before them.
"Greetings, Admiral Kirk. I wanted to tell you in person that Nolan Torsall has officially been charged with eight counts of fraud, conspiracy to commit treason, and attempted murder. In addition, our diplomatic team opened cautious discussions with the Klingon government and has already received assurances that the planned attack on Nistras Three will be postponed until they hear the evidence. We are confident that once heard, the evidence will convince them of our peaceful intent.
"So, to you, your crew, and the crew of the Lexington, congratulations on a job well done. A Federation team will arrive in two days to assess the mines on Nistras Three, at which time the Lexington will begin her next mission. You, Admiral Kirk, are to break orbit within the hour and deliver Nolan Torsall and Doris French to the authorities on Starbase Ten.
"Admiral Matthews out."
Less than one hour. He and Nyota had arranged to dine in her quarters at 1900 hours, but the Enterprise would be gone by then. He swiveled in his chair and met Kirk's eyes.
A small, sympathetic smile on his face, Kirk said, "I'll get started on the pre-departure tasks, if you want to do something else."
"Thank you, Admiral. I will return shortly."
Careful that his unruffled demeanor concealed the odd hollow sensation in his chest, Spock left the bridge.
...
Uhura looked over the shoulder of the short, round man leaning into the open comm panel and tried her best to concentrate on what they were doing. It was tough, though. There was a lot of activity in the corridor, and five people had already stopped to talk about Torsall and his plot.
"That's right, Ensign. Reconnect the loose lead. No, not there. There. Give it a try and see if it carries a signal now."
Hopefully this would be quick so she could finish getting ready for the evening. Spock would be coming before long, and she wanted to make certain that everything was perfect tonight. Now that the investigation was winding down, the Enterprise and the Lexington would have to go their separate ways, maybe even as soon as tomorrow. She was determined—no, desperate—to have one last, good night with Spock. Why had their relationship become so difficult recently? She wanted nothing more than to recapture the easy closeness of before.
"Good. Now, follow that circuit back to the source and double-check the power feed. We don't want it to get blown again."
As she spoke, she heard quiet, measured footsteps approaching from her right, but they didn't draw her full attention until they stopped. She glanced up to see that it was Spock.
She smiled quizzically. "Commander Spock! What brings you here?"
"The Enterprise just received new orders," he said softly. "We are to break orbit within the hour."
"Oh, no." Her shoulders sagged. "You don't mean it!"
"Unfortunately I do."
Noticing that they had a very interested audience, she said, "Uh, can you finish up here, Ensign? All that's left is to close the panel."
"Yes ma'am."
She nodded, and they started slowly down the corridor. When they were out of earshot, she said, "Where's the Enterprise going?"
"We are to deliver Torsall and French to Starbase Ten. After that, I do not know."
"How much time do you have until you need to return to the Enterprise?"
"Admiral Kirk assumed primary responsibility for our pre-departure preparations, but my presence will be required in approximately twenty minutes."
"All right. Well, let's try to enjoy the short time we have left. Would you like to go to the arboretum?"
"That is agreeable."
They lapsed into peaceful silence as they walked, but her soul was anything but calm. The hurtful words and tensions of the past few days filled her mind, and her chest ached from the pressure of all she wanted to say. She didn't know how he would react, however. Would he talk with her openly and honestly? Would it turn into another argument? Or would he hide behind a mask of impassivity, hurt her with yet another withdrawal? The last would be the worst, and she didn't think she could bear to see it happen again.
Eventually they entered the arboretum, and she led him to the same path they took... what? Nine days ago? It seemed like a month had passed since then.
"What do you think will happen to French and Torsall?" she asked.
"It is a given that Crewman French will be dishonorably discharged, and because she agreed to cooperate I expect her sentence to be light, perhaps a term in a rehabilitation facility. Torsall, however, will not receive such leniency. His original crime of fraud was certainly serious, but he compounded his problems exponentially when he tried to cover it up."
"You know, I've been thinking about what he did, and I wonder if he might be telling the truth about how everything just got out of hand. True, he can't be trusted, but starting a war between the Klingons and the Federation seems like an awfully drastic solution to his problems. If nothing else, he's too shrewd to think he could really get away with it. I tend to believe him, although I almost laughed in his face when he claimed that he was a victim, too."
"No doubt he will devise a more compelling argument before his trial."
"No doubt. Oh, by the way, Commander Lenox thinks he has a lead on how Torsall managed to fool the Federation about the mine. There's a clerk in the Federation Department of Mines and Minerals who used to work for Torsall Industries."
"Indeed? Fascinating."
They fell silent once more. After a few moments, she asked, "When do you think I'll see you again?"
She had tried her best to keep her voice light, but she could hear the strained quality to it. He evidently didn't notice, because he answered her question very matter-of-factly.
"It is difficult to predict without knowing our next missions. Saavik has repeatedly reminded me, however, that she wishes us to attend her 'graduation' ceremony in eighty-three days. I fail to see the significance of this ceremony, since she will simply enter the next level of education, but she seems to think that our presence is important."
Uhura smiled, despite her heavy heart. "Believe me, I've heard all about it. Why don't we plan on going?"
"That would please Saavik."
They had reached a secluded area in the back of the arboretum, and her steps slowed to a stop. Unable to read him at all, she suddenly couldn't stand this uncertainty another moment. "And what about you?" she asked softly. "Would it please you, too?"
She caught her breath when he turned toward her and she saw that his eyes were troubled. So. He did hear the question within her question, the doubt in her words.
He studied her for what seemed an eternity. They stood so close to one another that her neck began to ache as she looked up at him, but she didn't back away. His expression was open and unguarded, and she understood with a start that he was concerned about their relationship, too. Her heart began to beat faster with the realization. This was not the frigid nonreaction she had so feared.
"And what about you, Spock?" she whispered.
He opened his mouth to answer, but before he said the first word, they heard a soft whoosh, and suddenly water poured down on their heads. It was warm and gentle, just like a springtime rain. The scent of fresh, damp earth filled the air almost immediately, and the colors surrounding them intensified into a palette of clear, bright greens and reds and yellows.
Turning her face up to the unexpected shower, she laughed and held out her hands. "The sprinklers!"
"Obviously."
His lips tight with disapproval, he clearly was not at all amused by their predicament. Poor Spock! She could see that he was trying his best to retain his dignity, but it wasn't easy with water dripping off his hair and running down his face.
She grabbed his arm and tugged. Leaning close so she could be heard over the patter, she said, "Come with me! Let's find out what's going on."
They slogged down the path, but the water stopped just as they approached the entrance. A frantic young man stood by the central arboretum control. At the sound of their footsteps, he glanced up, and Uhura thought that she had never seen such a look of utter horror as when he spied his soggy guests.
His voice leaping into the upper decibel range, he squeaked, "Uh, Commander Uhura! Commander Spock! I... I'm sorry, but I hit this control instead of that one, and I meant to increase the humidity, but instead I turned on the sprinklers, uh, I mean, you know that already, but, uh..."
He grew quiet, his eyes fixed on Spock's face, and Uhura stepped forward before Spock could speak.
"At ease, Crewman. We see that it was an accident. Just be sure next time that you know which control is which."
"Uh, yes ma'am. Sorry, sirs."
"Now, if you'd like to redeem yourself, why don't you run and get us a couple of towels? After all, it wouldn't be fitting for us to drip all over the corridors."
Already heading toward the arboretum supply room, he shouted, "Yes, ma'am! Be right back."
She pushed her hair back as she turned toward Spock. "Sorry about this."
He dashed the water off his face. "It is not your fault."
"I know, but it was a heck of a way to end your time on the Lexington." She chuckled. "You have to admit that it was humorous. I've been caught in many rain showers, but never while on board a ship."
The young man reappeared with an armful of towels. "Here you go, sirs."
"Thank you."
They were quiet as they sopped up as much of the excess moisture as possible. There was no way they could avoid walking out of here wet, but at least they wouldn't leave puddles in the corridor.
She smiled wistfully at Spock as they handed the wet towels back to the crewman. "It's time for you to go back, isn't it."
"Yes."
"I'll walk you to the transporter room."
They lapsed back into silence as they left the arboretum, and she remembered their interrupted conversation. Her good humor faded. She had asked him 'What about you?'... and he hadn't answered. So much was invested in those few words, but she didn't want to repeat herself. He remembered the question. She had absolutely no doubt at all about that.
Sneaking a glance, she felt her spirits sink even lower at the solemnity of his expression. He didn't even meet her eyes. What was happening to them? She had asked him that question last night, but he had never answered it, either. Was she overreacting? Was she making herself miserable over nothing? Or was it really possible that he no longer cared like he used to? She refused to believe that, but yet, couldn't he see how unhappy she was?
A pair of crewmen passed in the corridor, and she would have smiled at their overt effort not to stare at the two damp officers if she hadn't been so sick at heart. The trip to the transporter room had never seemed so long. Finally, they turned the last corner, and the door was straight ahead.
Please, Spock. Please. Talk to me.
She didn't say a word, but the thought screamed through her skull. Almost as if he could read her mind, his steps slowed to a stop.
His eyes on the floor, he said, "Yes, Nyota."
"Yes?" she choked out. "Yes, what?"
"Yes." He met her gaze. "Yes, it pleases me. Very much."
"What does, Spock? What pleases you? You have to be more specific, because I'm not sure anymore."
"It pleases me to be with you. More than that..." He sighed. "I do not know."
She nodded. "All right. Thank you for being honest."
"Can you accept that?"
"Yes... and no."
A hint of relief had crossed his expression at her 'yes,' but it was replaced by reserved caution when she said 'no.' She continued.
"Something has gone wrong between us, and I want nothing more than to make it right again. I'm willing to try, but I'm not convinced that you are. You say that it pleases you to 'be with me,' but is that enough? Truly? I don't want our garden to wither and die, but it will if we don't nourish it."
"Are you seeking an assurance from me? A pledge that I will attempt to 'nourish our garden'? Very well. I will give you that assurance. I am not certain, however, that we agree on what that means."
"I know."
He studied her for a moment longer, then said, "It is time for me to leave."
She nodded, and they entered the transporter room. Neither of them spoke as he stepped onto the pad without delay, and she stared into his eyes until he had dissolved in a haze of shimmery particles.
...
Spock stepped down from the transporter pad. Ignoring the curious stare of the transporter technician, he activated the intercom.
"Spock to Kirk."
"Kirk here."
"I am back on board, Admiral, but I met with a mishap while on the Lexington. An inexperienced crewman inadvertently activated the sprinklers."
Kirk chuckled. "I see. Go change and join me on the bridge as soon as possible."
"Yes, sir. Spock out."
Walking briskly toward his quarters, Spock thought about his unsettling conversation with Nyota. She had drilled him with her gaze in the arboretum, demanding no less that the total truth from him, and he had suddenly known that if he needed to terminate their relationship, that was the moment to do so. The sprinklers had interrupted him, however, and when the topic had come up again outside the transporter room, he found that he could not say it. He could not tell her that he did not need her, and he could not tell her that he did not want her.
But he also could not tell her what she wished to hear.
What did she wish to hear? And what did he wish to say?
He had no idea.
...
Uhura stopped just inside the door to her quarters and sighed. The table was partially set for an elegant meal, two pristine china plates surrounded by shiny cutlery, and a single long candle in the middle. Well, she wouldn't need any of this anymore. She'd deal with it later.
Walking slowly to her bedroom, she sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off her boots, and flopped backward. She stared at the ceiling.
"Computer. Play 'Nocturnes' by Claude Debussy, first movement, 'Nuages.'"
Clouds. This is what she had requested last night. She had always loved this piece with its serenely sinuous, chromatic chord progressions.
She closed her eyes and tried to visualize white, puffy clouds on a clear blue day. Instead, however, the clouds of her imagination were gray, dark and threatening as they gathered ominously on the horizon. Their subtle menace was slow and steady, insidious, stealthy, treacherous. She'd always liked clouds before, but she didn't like these. There was no sun, no wind, no rain—just grayness, no color at all as they slid slowly across the still sky.
And nothing she could do would stop them.
End part five of "Fire, Wind, and Water: The Debussy Suite"
The next story in this series is Ondine