Home is the Sailor

by Pat Foley

In this post JTB story, Kirk comes to grips with where command ends and friendship begins. Holo series. Complete.

35. Chapter 35

Home is the Sailor

by

Pat Foley

Chapter 35

When Spock came down the stairs to join Kirk and McCoy that evening, it was to a different Fortress, and maybe a different Vulcan.

Outside in the gardens, the night sky sparkled with fairy lights. From there also came a subdued mutter and wash of multiple voices, like a running flow of water.

"We're about ready to start," Amanda said, turning to Kirk and McCoy. Beyond her Sarek was speaking to a pair of huge Vulcans wearing body armor and weapons, obviously guards. She ran an evaluating eye over their dress uniforms. "You two look very nice, though I'm not sure how well those uniforms are going to go over. But where's my errant child?"

"Coming," Spock said, from the landing above. His step as he came down was a little slow, but he walked without much of a limp. He was dressed in the same fancy tunic he had worn for T'Pau.

"I can see you won't be dancing much this evening," Amanda said, frowning at his halting pace.

"Dancing?" McCoy asked, surprised.

"Wouldn't be a party without dancing," Amanda said. "Sarek, are the guards ready?"

Sarek turned. "They are." He held out two fingers to her in a Vulcan embrace.

Amanda nodded and drew a measured breath. "Well. Let's get this show on the road. And believe me, it is a show." she added, and went off with her husband.

"What kind of a shindig is this Spock?" McCoy asked curiously.

Spock shrugged. "I hardly can say."

"What do you mean?" Kirk asked.

"On Vulcan, children do not attend adult functions. And after I left for Starfleet, it would have been awkward for my mother to have given one of these on the few times that I was home on leave, given Sarek and I were at odds. So this will be my first of these parties as an attendee." Spock considered the veracity of his statements. "Of course, I did watch from the balconies or parapets, and various other locations, when I was young enough to be curious."

"You learned young to be a spy," McCoy teased.

"I also learned the general lack of useful information such activities generally return," Spock returned, his manner to McCoy still frosty.

They moved into the main hall. Most of the time, the family seemed to enter and exit through the garden court doors. Except for the first day, once they'd learned the families' habits, Kirk and McCoy had hardly walked through or used the main hall either, or the great doors that opened on it. Now, the hall was lit with torches, as was the huge armory across from it. Somewhere an orchestra was tuning up.

"What the hell," Kirk muttered.

The pair of guards opened the great doors onto the formal gardens, revealing a huge swath of glitteringly attired guests, beings of all types, with more arriving every moment.

"It's like something out of a book," McCoy said admiringly. "Is Lord Byron attending?"

Amanda looked back to them, "Spock? You too, gentlemen," she said to Kirk and McCoy. "It's time to meet our guests. Don't worry," she added. "This won't take as long as it might look."

Kirk and McCoy stepped up behind Spock into a receiving line of sorts. After a moment's awkwardness - Kirk hadn't been expecting anything quite so formal - he appreciated the practicality of it. Amanda positioned herself ahead of Spock and Kirk. As the guests stepped forward, except for those entities where a formal introduction was a de rigueur part of their culture, she deftly made rapid fire introductions of names, planets and important titles in a chatty, conversational way as if to never imply that either party might not actually already know the other.

"And this is Silanjar, Legate of the Vulcan Council," Amanda would say, as a tall Vulcan offered them the Vulcan salute. "You know Spock and this is his Captain, James Kirk of the Enterprise, and Dr. McCoy. Ambassador Regan, and his wife Linnea, of Thendara. Ambassador Gort, of Tellur. Ambassador Tijun, of Andor. Ambassador Have Jadrek, of Rigel. Federation Ambassador-at-Large Carter Breannen, of the United Terran Colonies. Ambassadress Ning, of Helios," she introduced a very tall being, with gossamer wings.

Everyone greeted the Starfleet officers politely, though some showed obvious surprise at two Starfleet officers in Sarek's receiving line.

And as a Fleet Captain, Kirk wasn't blind to the political realities either. Starfleet Academy trained its officers in more than just exploration and defense. It gave its cadets a heavy grounding in politics and diplomacy - at least by its lights. Kirk had been to plenty of fancy diplomatic parties in his dress uniform and he understood one when he was in it. But he was also used to the automatic deference a Starship Captain commanded, not the least because often his heavy cruiser and its impressive weapons was orbiting above. Phasers and photon torpedoes might not be politic calling cards, but they could sometimes make a very good introduction, at least when it came to according instant respect.

But one interesting quirk of this receiving line was that he'd never attended one where his First Officer was introduced before himself, and where in the political arena any party encompassed, Spock ranked higher. Kirk got greetings laced with respectful, or in some cases resentful, nods for his uniform and the power of Starfleet and the Federation that lay behind it. But in this bastion of the old Alliance, a political entity that pre-dated the Federation, the Federation and its Starfleet arm was clearly regarded as a somewhat secondary entity. And almost every top player - and Kirk recognized many of the names from his diplomacy briefings - gave Spock a short half bow, taking a step back. Half of them looked from Spock to Sarek upon being introduced, making the comparison back to Spock as if taking his measure.

There were others, though, who plainly regarded Spock and his Starfleet companions as less than overwhelmingly important. Kirk had himself stepped back from the nine plus foot Helios being, Ambassadress Ning, an insectivore with a wingspan to match her height. She clearly was less than impressed with him, and more interested in her dinner.

"You don't expect me to sit at table, do you Amanda?" Ning asked. "I'd much rather browse."

"You can browse where you like, Ning, the gardens are open. So long as you don't hang from the chandeliers if we're still at dinner when you return - you know that upsets some of the guests."

"They are just jealous of the wingéd," Ning said, and taking a few steps to give herself wingroom, flew off.

"Don't mind Ning," Amanda said. "She is a good sort, but she can get a little excited with a good nectar source at hand."

Amanda herself was momentarily non-plussed for a name when Uhura came up to them. She must not have been introduced to her on the Enterprise. And unlike Scotty, who'd been donned in his dress kilt with Fleet insignia, Uhura had nothing Fleet about her. But Spock saved Amanda from embarrassment by saying, "Mother, I don't know if you met Lieutenant Uhura, the Enterprise's Chief Communications officer."

"Lady Amanda," Uhura said, with a nod to Amanda then she smiled at Spock. "You are looking so much better, sir."

"Not as well as you," he noted. "That is an exceptionally lovely gown, Lieutenant."

"I couldn't resist the chance to wear it, rather than dress uniform," she made a face. "That's all very well for men, but-"

"No one, seeing you in that, would want you to wear a uniform," Kirk said, waggling his brows approvingly.

"Indeed, 'she walks in beauty like the night'1," Spock said.

"You're very lovely, my dear," Amanda said, glancing at her son, perhaps in surprise at his complement, "and we are so pleased to welcome you."

The dignitaries were followed by local personas - various heads and staff from of the Vulcan Science Academy, certain members of the Terran Embassy - McCoy found himself greeting Mark Abrams, who gave him a practiced smile after Spock gave him a very cool, narrowed-eyed and stiffly formal greeting. After that, there were, as Queen Elizabeth had more or less said of herself, mere people, friends who Amanda introduced without titles, with casual descriptions of their interests - a fat little man who Amanda introduced as a Rigilian importer, a tall skinny unkempt man who Amanda kissed on the cheek, and abjured him to get a good meal, he was much too thin, Christian Porter, another human teacher from the Vulcan Science Academy, and various others. Sanjean was there, and several other young Vulcans, who greeted Spock with familiarity. But the young naturalists apparently had been excluded from the guest list. The line evaporated, and Sarek, who'd been at the forefront, spoke briefly to the guards and came back to Amanda. "That's all," he murmured to her. "There are no no-shows. I've instructed the guards to lock down, close shields and walk point."

Amanda nodded, and took his arm. "Let's go," she said to her houseguests.

Kirk held back a minute to study the security ringing the Fortress with a professional eye. With the crowd now inside, the security presence outside was far more visible, and it looked to have increased by at least a factor of ten from its usual daily quota. Kirk did notice one of the sehlats walking with one of the guards. He realized all these political heavyweights enclosed in one space provided a darn good reason for the tight and very visible security. Many of the leading lights of the vaunted Vulcan Alliance were here, a political arm of the Federation that had been a legislative counterpoint, and sometimes somewhat of a thorn in the side to Terra and her colonies since Vulcan had been introduced into the Federation. These guests were Vulcan's political allies, the Federation entities that during the journey to Babel Gav had intimated looked to Sarek for how to vote, or simply had Sarek vote their proxies.

The Starfleet officers followed their hosts into the great hall, whose vaulted ceiling echoed the murmur of conversation apparently a little too loudly for Spock. Or perhaps it was more than just the noise. He halted on the entrance, and then took a step back.

Kirk who'd been half a pace ahead of him, in their normal configuration, turned on his heel the moment he felt that absence at his shoulder and dropped back. "You okay?"

Spock was breathing slowly and carefully. He didn't answer.

Finding no one following him - he'd been last in the receiving line and so when they turned, he'd been ahead of Kirk in following Sarek and Amanda - McCoy sought them out. "Sure your shields can handle this, Spock? This is a lot of people for you."

Spock didn't answer. He had his eyes closed, brows knitted. He'd apparently been running through some Vulcan discipline, because after a moment, his shoulders dropped and he drew a deep breath. "I can do it."

They walked back into the ballroom. No one had apparently regarded them as doing anything but having a quiet chat before entering. Amanda gave them a quick evaluating look, but with a few hundred guests, her hands were more than full. Sarek was almost invisible now, surrounded by a knot of beings.

Kirk had intended to stay at Spock's side, at least until he was sure his First Officer could handle the crowd, but he found them separated almost immediately, as everyone chatted and circulated. All around him, the subject was primarily politics. Votes, strategies, Federation High Council positions, Alliance counterpoints, all of it in a subdued but powerful undercurrent to the ostensibly glittering party. Power was a drug more luring than euphorics. Music was playing; trays of delectable snacks and drinks were circulating; beautiful women and powerful beings were in themselves intoxicants of another kind. Kirk began to enjoy himself.

Until he found himself harangued by a distant member of the old Alliance, whose quadrant was now patrolled by Starfleet rather than Vulcan Space Central and who had a bone to pick thereof. The member, a humanoid named Aster Clive, had a lot of complaints about the difference between Vulcan efficiency and Starfleet dalliances 'whose idea of patrol was stopping by to resupply on fresh food once or twice a standard year'.

Kirk tried a few times to stem the flow of outrage, but he wasn't making much headway when Amanda arrived at his side.

"Hello, Clive," she said to his conversational partner. "So lovely to see you could make it. May I beg your indulgence and borrow the Captain from you for just a moment? There's someone I need him to meet." She dissected Kirk from his conversational partner with the deftness of a surgeon.

"Who do you want me to meet?" Kirk growled, not keen on having his ears chewed off by another anti-Federationist.

"No one, of course," Amanda murmured. "You just looked like you could use a rescue."

Kirk gave her a sharp look.

"I apologize for Clive," she added. "Don't think it's any real reflection on Starfleet. According to Sarek, he wasn't satisfied with Vulcan's garrison either. He probably wouldn't be completely so unless all twelve Constellation class starships and the latest dreadnoughts in the yards were in nose to nose in blockade orbit around his system. As if there was anything there to attract any serious predatory interest," she added in a the same almost inaudible tone, wearing a pleasant smile as if they were chatting about something delightful.

"What importance is he to the Alliance?" Kirk asked.

Amanda shrugged. "At one time, Vulcan maintained a listening post there; it was on the edge of their range then. During negotiations with the Federation, Vulcan yielded the patrolling of that sector to StarFleet. Clive feels a bit miffed over that concession. He never lets a meeting go by without letting Sarek hear of it, or any Fleet rep he can harangue. But after he says his piece, he usually behaves the rest of the evening. I'm not sure he's done though, so go and make yourself scarce somewhere else, or he may try to hook up with you again. Though Sarek has thought of 'sic'cing Spock on him."

"Spock?"

"He can debate him on the historical discrepancies between what Clive claimed he got before and what he is getting now. Since Spock holds no position in government at present, and is not officially anything more than Sarek's son, he can be blunt as Sarek can't, at least not without a lot of political delicacy. Nor can Spock have it held against him for telling the truth, even if he is nailing his opponent to the wall. At least, Clive won't do that. He's not vindictive. Just tiresome on that one subject." She laughed softly. "Look there goes Spock moving in range to get co-opted now."

"That doesn't seem very fair to Spock," Kirk said, watching Spock with narrowed eyes as he was intercepted by Clive.

"Rather poor Clive. Oh, come on, Jim. Don't you be tiresome too. Have you ever known Spock not to enjoy an argument? Especially if he's guaranteed to win the debate? And Clive really just wants someone to listen to him. He'll feel better for it. Anyway, it's good practice for Spock," Amanda said, patting Kirk's arm as she made to move away and tend to her guests. "He's going to have to deal with this group someday. Go circulate. A Federation Starship Captain is as rare here as an Orion slave girl." She laughed softly. "Maybe rarer. Everyone will want to meet you, although you may be in for some more displaced frustration. But it's all in a good cause. Here's your chance to seduce all these Alliance members to the mighty sway of the Federation. I sure have never made much headway at that. Though I can't say I've really tried." She suddenly made a face, looking behind him. "Tails up. Don't look, but you've a bogey on your six."

Kirk looked behind him anyway, surprised at her Fleet phrasing.

"Lyle Greenmeadow, Terran Embassy," she continued. "Be nice," she adjured him as if he were twelve years old. "But don't waste too much time on him. You're both from the same camp." She faded, stopping for a polite word to Greenmeadow.

"Are you enjoying your stay on Vulcan, Captain?" Greenmeadow asked.

"Aren't I supposed to?" Kirk asked, with a don't mess with me, I've got you in my sights predatory smile. He narrowed his eyes, wary after Amanda's intro. She might be a bit too familiar with him at times and decidedly not in awe of his position or rank, but he was beginning to trust her political instincts.

Greenmeadow laughed politely. "You're certainly in a unique position to do so, if you're capable of it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you're staying here," Greenmeadow spread his arms. "with the head of the Alliance. A very rare opportunity. Your host doesn't often open his home to Federation representatives. Even for social gatherings."

"I'm a guest of their son," Kirk said mildly. "Along with my Chief Surgeon. We're here for personal reasons, not on any political agenda. And his parents have been very welcoming."

"Very interesting. In the past, Sarek's ...reticence... went double for Federation representatives of the Starfleet persuasion. At least before."

"As I said, I'm a guest of their son."

"Yes. I'd like to speak with Spock before I leave," he looked around for the younger Vulcan.

Following his gaze, Kirk could tell by Spock's relaxed shoulders and amused look his friend was actually enjoying himself. So apparently was Clive, though he was waving his arms in fervent rebuttal.

"But I wasn't sure how far I'd get," Greenmeadow continued. "I wish whomever was on duty before he left had a clue what he was about. Clearly he was a lot more sympathetic than his education or paternal parentage would have indicated."

"Sympathetic?"

Greenmeadow turned back to Kirk. "To the Federation," he said, with a touch of surprise.

Kirk raised his brows at that. "Vulcan is part of the Federation, certainly."

Greenmeadow made a careful face of rebuttal. "Hardly. Barely." When Kirk still looked unconvinced, the diplomat gestured around the room. "Look around you. The core of Vulcan Alliance. When Vulcan came into the Federation, they supposedly were going to bring their block of worlds with them. But half the time the Alliance tries to dictate Federation policy. The rest they talk succession. I can't say they've ever really assimilated."

"Federation policy is whatever Federation members decide," Kirk warming to his argument. "Isn't it more a question of the Federation morphing to accommodate its changing member base, than those members changing themselves to preserve a mostly human colony status quo?"

"Now you sound like an Alliance member."

Kirk's teeth bared in a smile that was more feral than cordial, "I really dislike it when people assume my philosophies match my blood type."

"You're a Starship Captain."

"And I'm sworn to defend the United Federation of Planets. We don't pick sides or play favorites among Federation member planets on the bridge of the Enterprise."

"Bet you can't say quite the same for the Admiralty. How many alien starship captains are there? How many women for that matter? None. It's an old guard Fleet and an old guard Federation."

"Are you suggesting we maintain that?"

"I'm suggesting it's somewhat dangerous for aliens to be the ones dictating change within the Federation. StarFleet understands that."

"It's true that military practices can move a bit slower than political realities," Kirk allowed, frowning a little. "There's a culture there. It takes time to bring more diverse officers and practices through the ranks. There are some inequities, but they are getting better. But Federation policy is determined by its members. And Fleet takes its orders from the Federation High Council. Not Terra."

"Come, Captain. When the Federation first formed, it stood for Terra and her colonies. Humans. Many powerful Federation members don't want to see it diluted by an overwhelming influx of non-human values. It may turn into something different than it was when it started. And where would we be then?"

"A little more tolerant?" Kirk suggested, raising his brows in innocent surmise.

Greenmeadow stepped up to Kirk and said sotto voce. "If Vulcans were so tolerant, your First Officer wouldn't have been hounded off this planet by these fine IDIC philosophers. Or have an eighteen year estrangement from his family. Where did he go for tolerance? Earth. I think you are selling the Federation as it stands now somewhat short."

Kirk drew up at that, Greenmeadow's bringing to the forefront all his ambivalence about his stay on Vulcan. Sarek's words about Earthmen had never been too far from his mind. He wondered again which was the real Sarek. The vaunted Federation statesman renowned for brokering peace throughout the Federation? Or the intolerant near bigot he'd appeared to Kirk on the Babel mission, one who made disparaging remarks about humans and Tellurites, and shunned his only son for eighteen years? Or was it possible that Vulcans, far from being hero-lighted gods, were just as flawed and imperfect as humans? He remembered the conversation in the garden, and Silanjar's casual remark about Kirk coming to regard Vulcans as no better than they were. Spock had always referred to Vulcans and his culture almost invariably as shining paragons of virtue. But he'd left Vulcan very young. Kirk's first encounter with Sarek had left a somewhat different impression with him.

"Think about it," Greenmeadow said, seeing he had no ready answer and stepped aside.

Kirk looked after him, breathing hard, battle honed senses at the ready, and nothing to focus them on. He wasn't sure what sort of Vulcan he was on. Suddenly, as if sensing his disquiet, Spock was at his elbow. "Captain?" When Kirk didn't respond he said, "Jim?"

Kirk let out a breath. "Sorry. Suddenly I wasn't quite sure where I was."

"I believed I was the only one experiencing that phenomenon,' Spock said, with a quirkily raised brow. "Are you quite well, Captain? Perhaps the room is too warm? Or you require Triox?"

"No, I'm fine. It's just that-", Kirk shook himself and looked up at his First Officer. "Maybe I'm just not all that comfortable with politics."

Spock raised both brows at this. "I always thought you generally quite astute in your political dealings on the Enterprise," Spock said, looking at him with some surprise. His eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you are dehydrated. I will bring you something to drink, Captain."

Kirk turned to follow, but almost immediately bumped into a man shorter than himself, and he knew he was no tower. The man - for he was human - sputtered and wiped drink off his chest, and Kirk apologized for his clumsiness.

"James Kirk," the man said, looking at the ribbons on Kirk's dress uniform. "I don't know whether to shake your hand, like the fellow countryman you might be, or spit on your boots, for the tyranny your pretty starship with its deadly weapons offers. Brady Barra," he offered his hand, Terran style, "From Tús Úrnua"

"I'm from Iowa," Kirk said, deadpan, taking it guardedly.

"Not a countryman, then," Barra said, without missing a beat. His eyes were friendly and his body language as open as his face, but for all that his was an ungiving expression.

"Apparently not," Kirk said, transfixed by his manner of both openness and suspicion. "And my ship doesn't represent tyranny."

"Oh, and there you're wrong, Captain," Barra said, still more amused than anything, his light eyes playing over Kirk's face. "You may not intend it so, but it is. A terrible tyranny we'd prefer to avoid. Set up our own world, and still you come chasing after us, with your fine fast ships, built with your cruel high taxes. You take our bread with one hand, and with the other, buy the boot that crushes our throat."

"I've seen real tyranny sir, and it's not the Federation. And very little tax revenue goes into Fleet coffers," Kirk said. "And if you need Federation help, the Fleet stands ready to defend or assist.

"I'd rather die a free man, than buy safety at the price of oppression. Oh, keep your hair on," he said, grinning when Kirk brows formed storm clouds and he drew breath to argue. "It's pulling your leg a bit, I am. But there's no denying more of us feel that way than not on Tús Úrnua."

Kirk swallowed his reply, remembering where he was.

"You've talked to the high and mighty of us, then," Barra continued, jerking his chin at Greenmeadow a few knots of guests away. "The Federation's fine Terran representatives. And now you're slumming with the low."

"Tús Úrnua is part of the Alliance then?" Kirk asked, frowning, thinking back over his last political briefing.

"Sinn Féin. Just ourselves," Barra said, shaking his head, his eyes narrowed. "Oh, sometimes we vote with Breannan's independents. They're not too bad a lot. Sometimes we hang with the Alliance. It doesn't ask us for anything, I'll grant it that. Neither credits, nor blood, nor a permanent allegiance. But we worry they may get co-opted too. I'll not deny, none of us were that pleased when Spock joined Starfleet. It's a sorry day when a child you raise is seduced by powerful ships and fancy uniforms."

"The uniforms aren't that fancy," Kirk deadpanned back, gesturing at himself. "And Spock doesn't give a damn about either. Better yet, keep your mouth off my First Officer entirely if you want to keep all your teeth. There's a limit to how political I can be."

"Loyal, is he? Interesting to see that from a Federation representative."

"Come on, Barra," Kirk said, repressing a very impolitic desire to tell him to cut the crap. "The Federation has a good purpose and you know it. It is a big galaxy to stand alone in."

"And we're happy to associate with the Alliance. Such as it is and so far. That's why we keep a representative here. We like to keep an eye on the wind. The Federation, not so much. It'd be a sorry day to my eyes if Vulcan got too friendly with Terra. Best for us, and the Alliance if Vulcan keeps its independence."

"Guess you're sorry he married a Terran than," Kirk said.

"Ah, boy-o," Barra said, tapping a finger against the side of his nose. "That was a smart move, sure to disarm the Terrans in the middle of negotiations as he was. And as for Sarek himself - keep friends close, and enemies closer."

"Well, maybe that's why Spock joined Fleet," Kirk countered.

"Sarek is a better actor than I take him for, then, given he's turned away at the very mention of his name for years. But I suppose anything is possible." Barra frowned, seeing Spock approach, and nodded to Kirk, stepping away without asking to be introduced, in a move just short of rudeness.

"I believe McCoy would advise you to watch your blood pressure, Captain." Spock said, looking wonderingly from Kirk to Barra.

"He's an ignorant cuss, and I'd like to knock his teeth down his throat." Kirk made as if to take a step, and Spock caught his arm gently and turned him to him.

"Not at my mother's party," Spock warned him.

"Who are these people?" Kirk fumed privately to Spock.

"Political allies, on Vulcan and in the Federation. Friends."

"No one could be his friend."

"I would not take any comments you hear too seriously, Captain. Wearing a Fleet uniform to this event is something like waving a red flag before a bull - at least to some in this political arena. The Federation, in its infancy, has not always played fair with new members, particularly aliens. But even those from independent colony worlds, such as those of the United Free Colonies, as Breannan represents, or Barra's world, have some grievances."

"Do I hear my name taken in vein?" Breannan asked, turning from a small group nearby.

"My Captain had just finished speaking with Brady Barra," Spock said.

"Ouch," Breannan winced, making a face. "I believe my reputation then precedes me, Captain," he shook Kirk's hand. "But may I introduce my companions? Ambassador SSSundressss," he nodded to a large green Amphibianoid, "Ambassador Naron," a taller, red lizard like creature with astonishingly bright yellow eyes, and Ambassadress Marie Newland, of New Amsterdam."

"Gentleman, Ma'am," Kirk said.

"Don't hate us all, on Barra's acquaintance, Captain," Newland said. A contrast with her associates, she was entirely human, shockingly young, and exceedingly attractive. "Some of us are quite nice, and even civilized. But we do prefer to be...independent."

"It must be a hard coalition for Sarek to keep together then," Kirk said.

"I suppose it is," Newland said. "Though I confess, I've never seen Ambassador Sarek as anything other than supremely cool and confident. More of an I'm going this way, if you care to follow, and not looking behind type, than arguing one into the sand. Though reputedly he does that too, when it's required."

Kirk turned to Spock at that, but he just flicked a brow and shrugged. Clearly he'd been hearing about his father, good and bad, all his life, and was past taking anything political as a personal slight.

Before they could continue, Ambassador SSSundressss gave a throaty sigh and wiped a massive pad over his brow. He'd gone from neon green to a faded olive. "Forgive me, gentlebeings, but this environment has really become too much for me. I am going to go out for a bit and find a cool fountain in which to soak and repair my integument."

"Do you need assistance?" Kirk asked, frowning for the creature did seem distressed. "Our ship's surgeon is here." He scanned the crowed. "Somewhere."

"I only require a more humid environment."

"I'll attend him," Naron said. "I could use a sssssoak too. And those fairy lightsssss will attract any number of night insssssects," he added to SSSundresss.

"An excellent suggestion," SSSundressss said. "I prefer live aperitifs. And there may be fish in the fountain."

"They are not appetizzzzerssss. You are not ssssupposed to eat the decorative fisssssh," Naron hissed, his long tongue flicking out. "Unlike the insssssects, they're petsssss."

"No one will notice a small fish or two, more or less. And they are so tasty..." SSSundresss argued. The pair moved off.

"And if you'll forgive me, Captain," Newland said. "I see someone that I have to catch. Not a fish," she smiled at Kirk.

"Don't forget Abraxis IV," Breannan called after her, as she waved a hand and nodded.

"Should we tell your mother that SSSundressss is unwell?" Kirk asked Spock admiring the view as Newland walked away.

"No need," Spock said, looking instead after the amphibianoid pair. "I can't recall a gathering where Ambassador SSSundressss or one of his predecessors did not spend half the evening in one of our fountains. Generally eating up the ornamental fish. I believe they are as rose petals are to Vulcans to him."

"It doesn't bother you he's going to eat your fish?"

"I think Mother actually procures them for our guests. She just doesn't tell my father - in so many words. Or he prefers to overlook it. There's much a Federation Ambassador has to attend to, and much he is required to overlook. He has," Spock glanced over at Sarek, who had a group around him several deep still soliciting his attention, "many other concerns."

Kirk noticed a few groups away, Greenmeadow watching Sarek with frowning interest. "Apparently. That one's not exactly a happy camper."

"I am somewhat surprised to see Federation embassy personnel here," Spock said. "And the Terran legate. They are not always invited to these purely social gatherings. The political climate between the Federation and Vulcan must be somewhat cordial at the moment, for there are times when the situation is simply too volatile to have them here."

"He mentioned that. But this doesn't look like a purely social gathering."

"It is, though," Spock said. "Greenmeadow must still be somewhat at odds with the Alliance - he said some very odd things to me - but he is clearly pleased to be here. He would be foolish to pass up a chance to meet with so many Alliance members associating together. And to have an ability to put forth his delegation's positions. For those that will hear him."

"You think they won't listen?"

"I think they seldom care to," Spock said. "Many of these delegates, those not part of the original Alliance, side with Vulcan now because they have grievances against the Federation, which the Federation has disregarded. The Alliance presents one of the larger non-Terran colony world factions. They are at best ambivalent about Federation membership."

Breannan nodded and chimed in. "And it sticks in Greenmeadow's craw. But, it's the political realities here. Sarek is doing his best to keep the Alliance in the Federation. Rather than appreciate what he has to do to accomplish that, the Terrans occasionally act as if instead he's sabotaging their agenda."

"They do all seem to want Sarek's ear. And no one seems to crowd around Greenmeadow," Kirk noted.

"Well, you've heard the old Earth jingle about the Cabots and the Lowells haven't you? 2", Breannen grinned mischievously at Spock. "The Terran diplomatic staff here have a new twist on it for Vulcan.

And this is the Quadrant Eridani

Where logic not emotion is law

Where the Alliance speaks only to Vulcan

And Sarek speaks only to God.

Kirk turned a laugh into a cough, and spared a glance for his First Officer. Far from being outraged, Spock's brows were raised in confusion.

"I thought the last verse ended Sarek speaks only to T'Pau," Spock said.

"Same thing, isn't it Spock?" Carter said, amused.

"I am shocked," Spock said, with mock Vulcan severity.

"No, you're not," Breannan said. "Shocked at my discretion, maybe."

"In that respect, you are correct," Spock said, a half smile curving his mouth. "I have heard a much more ribald version of that rhyme."

"Not at your mother's party," Breannan said, glancing at Amanda, in spite of her being far across the ballroom. "She might not invite me back."

"I doubt that. The UFC is rather important to the Alliance," Spock said.

"Ah, but maybe it is like the Federation and Vulcan. Maybe we need the Alliance a bit more than they need us." He frowned looking over the Vulcan. "Though we sometimes can make a difference on key votes. It's nice to see you again, Spock. But I must say you're looking very drawn. I'd heard you were recuperating from a difficult mission. I trust you'll soon be fully recovered? Vulcan can't afford to lose you. And of course, neither can your father."

"My father?" Spock asked, taken aback by this.

"He's hasn't been looking too well either this past year. When we heard he was retiring, I confess it gave everyone in the Alliance quite a scare. It's good that you're home."

Spock had raised his brows in surprise. "My father has fully recovered. And he has many competent aides. He doesn't require me."

"I thought...forgive me, if I'm being too personal. I assumed you'd come home to stay. So you're planning to resume your Starfleet career?"

"I ...am not sure," Spock said, looking uncomfortable. "I hoped... " he paused and didn't continue.

Breannan had the grace to look a bit embarrassed for being too personal.

Meanwhile, Kirk had turned to Spock, a little surprised at his phrasing. As precise as Spock generally was, Kirk had thought he would use the words expect or trust, rather than the more uncertain hope. Vulcan's seldom indulged in hope. But before he could say anything, a gong resounded, calling them all in to dinner. Breannan looked relieved to have escaped the awkward personal subject he'd raised. Kirk himself decided that this was neither the time or place to get into it. As one, the crowd slowly began to move.

Kirk had never seen the Fortress' banquet hall, and certainly would never have seen it lit up and dazzling as it was. In the Palace, they had not seen that edifice's huge banquet hall populated and gleaming for a huge event, merely half-lit for a small family gathering. Here this one was and the effect dazzled. The walls were hung with tapestries and weapons from Vulcan's warrior past. The flaming torches and lighting, the exquisitely set tables needed only the glittering guests to accent them. For any being with even a trace of emotional consideration, it was a setting designed to overwhelm, impress and intimidate. Kirk was tactician enough to recognize power that was elegant enough not to care whether it was understated. He didn't necessarily like the phenomenon when he encountered it, when the power wasn't solidly in his court. But he could recognize it. For one of the few times he'd experienced the sensation, he felt as if his uniform and his ship orbiting above might not quite counter the effect of all that power. After a moment, he swallowed and entered the room.

It was typical dinner party seating, with everyone mixed up to converse with someone new. He had been placed far away from Spock and the other Enterprise personnel. On Kirk's right, was a young woman. She was blond, unattached, well spoken, intelligent and beautiful. Apparently she was on Vulcan doing research on some theory that Vulcans, Romulans, Orions, and similar races were seeded by some greater being, and she was attempting to trace the origins of that seeding by archeological mans. Under normal circumstances, they might have found that or some other subject of interest to discuss, given he'd had some previous encounters with other "seeders" of humanoid life. And in their first few exchanges he discovered her father had a Fleet background – one reason why she was familiar with these seeding cultures – he was Science officer on an exploratory vessel, the Ling Abbey. But after a few tentative sorties into the conversational wars, she became engaged in argument with a Vulcan on her other side, who had some disagreements on part of her theories. She got so deeply in discussion that she forgot her other dinner partner, her manners and perhaps even her dinner. It left Kirk bored and devoid of that source of interest.

And even the food was no diversion, for the next course served was a salad. No great fan of green leaves even when McCoy starved him on one of his eternal diets, Kirk had no appetite for them now. He pushed his plate slightly away, leaving it untouched.

With a sigh Kirk turned to Sion, his dinner partner on his other side. A Vulcan about Sarek's age, with a trace of silver in his dark hair, and a quiet reserve that reminded Kirk of Spock, they had exchanged names but little else. Sion was looking down at the plate of green leaves topped with a red sauce with a raised brow. Apparently he was either not very familiar with human foods or was bemused by the color combination, which to a Vulcan, might look a bit odd.

Striving for a conversational subject, Kirk picked the one that seemed to engage most of the guests that evening. "Are you involved in politics, sir?"

Sion tasted a green leaf topped with its raspberry vinaigrette. The expression on his face was one Kirk was familiar with when Spock had made a stunning discovery.

"Sir?" Kirk asked.

"Forgive me, Captain. No, I am not in diplomacy. I am an industrialist." He took another forkful of lettuce and his brows rose as he slowly chewed. "Fascinating."

Kirk watched with amusement as Sion consumed with every appearance of relish what was apparently the Vulcan's first Terran salad. When he'd finished, he looked so regretfully at his empty plate that Kirk couldn't resist a perhaps less than mannered action. "Here. Take mine." He smoothly exchanged his full plate for the Vulcan's empty one, "No, please. I hate salads."

"Thank you, Captain," he said politely, but with a raised brow at Kirk's emotional comment.

"I take it you don't attend these parties generally? Given you don't seem too used to these types of foods."

Sion nodded in agreement. "You are correct, Captain. My work keeps me resident mostly in space. I can seldom be importuned away. I am generally more than satisfied with commissary fabricators for my dietary needs. But I have never tasted anything like this dish. It is...exquisite."

"The lettuce? Or the raspberry sauce?"

"Is that what it is?" Sion licked the red tip of his fork. "I thank you for the information, Captain. I had heard of this fruit, and that it tasted very well to Vulcans. But was never put in a way so as to investigate it. I will attempt to have our fabricators replicate this compound."

"You said you are a …manufacturer? And you work in space? What do you manufacture?"

Sion had chosen to eat his second salad leaf by leaf, apparently to make it last. "The entity for whom I work creates very many things. Engines. Cyber-electronics. Environmental systems."

"Ships," Kirk said, putting two and two together.

"You mean the final fitting together of the components to create an actual vehicle? That too, naturally, but that is mere assemblers' work. I am primary concerned with the design prior."

"Starships," Kirk said. "Warp craft."

"Certainly." Sion swirled the final two very small leaves in the raspberry sauce and closed his eyes as he ate them. If a Vulcan could have a religious experience, Sion seemed to be experiencing one, at least by his expression.

"And you're working on my ship. The Enterprise." Kirk smiled even at the mention of her name. He felt immediately better about his uniform and his standing - as regards this room and all Vulcan. And at least he had figured out why Amanda must have seated this particular individual next to him.

Sion opened his eyes at that. "I personally? Certainly not. Though I believe one of our subsidiaries is doing some minor upgrades to your craft."

"Minor?" Kirk thought of the Enterprise's current state, with the saucer detached from the hulls while the warp engines were torn apart.

"It was my understanding from engineering reports that the ship's frame was insufficient to withstand the stresses of higher warp fluxion fields. So the modifications to your engines are necessarily somewhat limited."

"You work for Shikahr Enterprises." Kirk said.

"What is that?" Sion asked, puzzled. Then he blinked. "Oh. Yes, I suppose that might be one of the Federation names used for our entities. You understand, Captain, that I am in R&D. I have very little to do with the actual yards or the business end of the firm. Or the Federation names for them."

Kirk suddenly remembered. Amanda leaning across her flyer, talking to Sarek. Asking if Sion would be interested in Starfleet input. He glanced over to Amanda, but she was engaged in a conversation with a Caitan, and didn't notice his look.

"Do you know Spock?" Kirk asked.

"Sarek's child," Sion nodded, and drew back as their plates were changed for the next course. "Some years ago, he served a few internships in various departments. But his education was always steered primarily to theory. He was never expected to pursue, nor terribly interested in, applied mechanics."

"He's First Officer on my Starship," Kirk shrugged. "That's pretty applied."

"I had heard he was taking a few years in Federation Service. Probably very practical, given his eventual career when he completes his education.

"He has a career," Kirk said.

Sion gave him a pointed look at that, raising a brow. "He's not an engineer."

Kirk didn't know whether to agree or be outraged on Spock's behalf. Or on reflection, wondering if he'd just been discretely warned. He'd meant to grill Sion on what and when of these modifications were going to be shared with the Fleet and Federation vessels, but it suddenly didn't seem as important if he went back to Fleet without Spock. He chewed his lip over Sion's comment and shelved the grilling for a later time. Watching Sion return to eating, he tasted the next course, but it might as well have been weeds in ash. He looked around at all the diplomats, planetary leaders, and wished with all his soul he was in the Enterprise spare but familiar main rec, eating reconstituted fare out of the food processors and looking forward to little more than a game of 3-D chess and a song from Uhura. "I want to go home," he muttered under his breath.

Sion cocked a brow at him, and forbore to comment.

Dinner was followed by desert. Kirk was ready for the party to be over, but the orchestra was tuning up again. In the ballroom, people were dancing. In the gardens, knots of people, and infatuated lovers were winding down the paths, admiring the lights and flowers, or looking for a secluded place to tryst. In the crowd, Kirk lost track of all the Enterprise personnel, McCoy, Uhura, and Spock, and he only saw Scotty as the Engineer was leaving. It occurred to him that Spock might have faded and McCoy might have gone with him up to his room. He went back into the house, passed by dangerous looking Vulcans who were apparently tasked with keeping guests from wandering into places they weren't meant to go. He checked out Spock's rooms, but they were empty.

Giving up, he shrugged and made the best of it, and went back to the party. Most of the fierceness had gone out of the arguers after a good dinner, so no one snagged him to snap to him about Federation policies, or the tyranny of his Starship. But there were still beautiful women to be danced with. So he danced with Marie Newland, and with his dinner partner. He took a few lovely women into the rose gardens for a bit of floral dalliancing, and danced some more. He almost enjoyed himself so much so it was a surprise when he looked around and realized the ballroom had largely emptied and the party was over.

Or nearly over.

Amanda and Sarek were out in the formal Vulcan gardens saying farewell to the bulk of their guests. In the few that remained, Kirk saw McCoy hanging out with Dr. Abrams and walked up to him. "Where've you been?"

"Where have you been?" McCoy accused him in turn.

Kirk gave up. "All right. It's a big place. So, is it over? Cinderella leaves her slipper behind and the rest go home?"

"Actually, not quite. The tail end is the best part of the party," Abrams said. "The rest is just-" he shrugged. "Political exigency. We usually gather round the pool to round out the evening."

Kirk and McCoy followed Abrams' lead. They discovered the party had relocated yet again. But only a select group remained this time, perhaps ten or fifteen percent of the original 200 plus guests. Abrams, some of the Academy teachers, a group of the Alliance notables, including Carter Breannan, representative head of the United Free Terran Colonies, Regan and Linnea. The Tellur and Andor representatives had gone, but Ning, the giant Helios being remained, as well as some lizard like men, and various humans and Vulcans Kirk had not taken much awareness of among the other glittering notables.

Now this group settled round Amanda's pool, where a table of refreshments had been set out. Some settled down on the pool furniture. Some kicked off shoes and hiked up skirts and sat on the pool's edge, dangling feet in the water. A few stripped down to suits and dove or jumped in the water. Everyone seemed to give a concerted sigh of relaxation. On the edge of the pool, just far enough away to be out of the spray, a man picked up a guitar and began softly strumming.

Kirk found Spock there, with Sanjean and a few other Vulcans, talking intensely in rapid Vulcanur, too fast for Kirk to catch even a word.

Sarek and Amanda came through the flower maze and Amanda sighed hugely. She took off her shoes, loosened her upswept hair so that it hung down her back, hitched up her long gown and sitting down on the water's edge, dipped her feet in the pool. "That looks so inviting," she said to some of those frolicking in the water. "I'm half tempted to swim myself."

Sarek brought her a cool drink instead. "It is too late. The temperature will soon drop and you will become chilled."

"You're probably right," Amanda mused, looking longingly at the water. "But after the crush of the ballroom, I don't think I'd mind."

"It was a lovely party, Amanda," Linnea said.

"Well, unlike some gatherings I've been to," Amanda said, with a wry glance for Kirk, "no one got knifed. Literally, that is. I'm sure there were some figurative slayings, but none that involved actual bloodshed. Of course we haven't had the final guards' report."

"I think there's going to be real trouble over Abraxis IV," Carter said to Sarek. He was one of those who had rolled up his pant legs and doffed his socks and shoes and was dangling feet in the pool.

Sarek flicked a brow at that, but kept his counsel.

"Those who won't be guided, cannot learn," Regan said. "But I tend to agree."

Breannan shook his head. "Hell, I can't deal with any more politics now. I'm going for a swim. It will clear my head." He went off to a changing room, came back in fabricated trunks and dove off the far end, coming up sputtering. "I don't know how you can say any human would be chilled, Sarek. After the sun on it all day, this pool gets as warm as a bathtub."

"It's cold," Sarek countered.

"To a Vulcan."

"That does it. I'm going to join you," Amanda said. "I can always put on a robe, afterwards." She went off, came back in a suit with her hair braided into a tight tail, did a neat jackknife, and swam a couple of laps.

From around the corner of a flower laden arch, the two amphibianoids came, dripping water. "We heard splashing."

A pair of Vulcan guards followed them, and went over to Sarek to report. "We've completed a thorough search, and all the departing guests have been escorted from the grounds, except for those here, and Ambassadress Ning, who is in another part of the gardens. Everyone remaining is cleared for primary or secondary access. We are going to lock down shields and tighten the perimeter."

"So no actual knife work," Amanda said with satisfaction from the water, and diving, swam underwater for a few laps.

"Acknowledged," Sarek said. "I wish she wouldn't do that," he muttered, frowning at Amanda's underwater swimming. He sounded so much like Spock in his affirmative that Kirk turned to the Vulcan at his side, but Spock wasn't paying attention. His Vulcan friends had gone over to watch the swimmers, looking fascinated at the phenomenon. Eschewing the seating around the pool, and unimpressed with swimming, Spock had settled himself on a stone knee wall edging some gardens. Now, leaning back against the rock wall behind him, he was looking up at the stars.

"What's this that I've been hearing all night about Abraxis IV?" Kirk asked him.

Spock did react to that. He turned innocent eyes on Kirk, but didn't answer. He looked tired, and Kirk decided not to press. "Your father certainly has tight security," he commented softly, mindful of Vulcan hearing.

"A requirement with this many Federation delegates and political leaders," Spock said, speaking softly. "But it is not so very bad now. Sascek is spending his time farming rather than following my mother around as he must when tensions are very high."

"Sascek. Oh, the big guy with the sehlats. The one with the farm."

"He does farm. But he is my mother's primary guard when circumstances so dictate."

Kirk thought about that. It was comforting to sit sleeve to sleeve with his First Officer. Though he would have been a lot more comfortable in a regular duty uniform. The dress collar was too tight. "Did you have guards?" he asked idly.

"There were times when I was escorted to and from school. My movements were generally closely monitored, as a precaution against kidnapping. Most of the time I wasn't very tightly guarded. Unless political tensions were particularly high. Sometimes then I was simply sent away to school to be out of the way."

"What fun."

A slight curve quirked the corner of Spock's mouth. "It was interesting to go to Starfleet and be just one of many cadets."

"Your parents must have had a fit about that alone," Kirk commented, thinking what was novel and probably liberating to Spock must have created a great many headaches for Spock's parents. And perhaps some higher ups in the Academy.

Spock looked down and didn't answer.

Kirk had never thought about what a security risk it must have seemed to Sarek for Spock to be in Starfleet. Now he looked across at the elder Vulcan speculatively, wondering if Sarek's cutting off his son from him might have been a form of protection, in a convoluted way. Certainly Sarek had done everything he could to make it plain that his son had no worth to him once he'd joined Fleet. Less value for ransom perhaps? If so, he had a slightly better opinion of Sarek. But only slightly.

"Not to mention what a risk Starfleet took on, at least while you were at the Academy," Kirk mused, thinking through all the ramifications.

"I trust I wasn't too much of an inconvenience to anyone," Spock finally said, with a bit of an edge to his voice.

"I didn't mean it that way," Kirk said.

Spock didn't answer.

"Hey, are you miffed at me?"

Spock didn't reply for a moment, as if still displeased. "I believe it was less complicated before you knew who I was."

"Well, I think you might have told me," Kirk countered.

"The information was available for anyone who pried with any depth into my background. And since you find the information unwelcome, perhaps my reticence spared you that discomfort."

"Spock, you know that this isn't who you are."

Spock frowned at him and looked away again.

Kirk sighed at that. "I seem to be putting my foot in my mouth tonight. I didn't mean -"

"I'm going to get something to drink," Spock said. He rose, leaving Kirk open mouthed.

"Hey, Jim," McCoy said, sitting down next to him. "Spock looked a bit peeved. Did you just tick him off?"

"I think I actually might have."

"You can join me in the doghouse then," McCoy said amused.

"You're always in the doghouse," Kirk said.

"So you've found out what that's like?" Abrams asked McCoy. "I've been in that club for thirty years."

"He and I had a slight contretemps earlier," McCoy said. "But fortunately or not, I rank him in medical authority, if nowhere else. Sooner or later he has to deal with me."

"I'm still waiting for you to fix him," Kirk growled in an undertone to McCoy, "so we can get out of this mess and back to our real life."

"What makes you think this isn't real life?" McCoy asked.

"This isn't who Spock is," Kirk argued.

"Sure it is," McCoy said. "This is the first eighteen years. Fleet's the second."

"I think the more recent ought to hold more weight."

"Never heard of 'give me a child for the first seven years and I'll give you the man'3?" McCoy asked airily, clearly the better or worse for a little celebrating and the refreshments he'd consumed.

"I don't really want to," Kirk said.

"That's pigheaded stubbornness worthy of a Vulcan. No wonder you and Spock get along so well."

Uhura came over, and Kirk immediately felt better just looking at her, and was glad she hadn't been chased away with the other guests. "That is some dress, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, Captain," she said, with a conscious smile for his regard. "This is some party. I've conversed with six Federation constituents whose language I've never spoken outside of a tutorial. And do you know there's a Helios being here? I've been hoping to talk with her. But I haven't been able to catch her yet. Every time I see her, before I can reach her through the crowd, she flies away."

"We'll ask Spock for a butterfly net," McCoy said, chortling at his own joke.

"Good evening, Lieutenant," Spock said, returning. "You should be able to have that opportunity before the evening ends. Ambassadress Ning is still here."

"Mr. Spock," Uhura looked at him, wide eyed. "I hope you're feeling better. We're all eager to see you make a full recovery."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Spock said, looking down. "I appreciate your good wishes."

"This is quite a party," she said, "You have a beautiful home."

A human began a loud strumming on a guitar and Uhura looked over.

Amanda came out of the pool, and shrugged into the terry robe Sarek held for her.

"Sing, Mandy," Christian Porter, who was playing the guitar, importuned.

"Not wet and chilled," Sarek ordered in a stern voice.

"All right, I'll change, I'll change," Amanda said to Sarek in a long suffering voice. She went off to the cabana and came back sans her fancy dress, in shorts and a simple shirt, her hair still in the braided tail.

"Your hair is wet." Sarek said.

"And it's going to stay that way for a while," Amanda countered. "Don't nag, Sarek. I'm not going to melt."

"Well?" Christian asked, hands on his guitar.

Amanda looked across at him, around at the guests, many of them expectantly turning from their conversations, and shrugged one shoulder. "Pick something," she said.

The human began strumming on the guitar, and Amanda drew a breath and, sang.

After a moment, McCoy's mouth dropped open. For all that she sang with no fanfare and no preparation, Amanda Grayson really could sing. Her voice was clear and light, clean in phrasing, lilting from note to note effortlessly through its range, her tone magically sustained in spite of Vulcan's lack of oxygen. "Now I know where Spock gets that musical talent," McCoy muttered.

"Oh, Sarek can play too," Abrams answered him back, in the same undertone. "But he almost never does in company. Sometimes he will, but I doubt it with this group tonight. It's a bit too large for his taste."

The party took a definite musical turn, of a personal nature, far removed from the fancy orchestra of before. When Amanda finished her song, Chris then played an instrumental piece on his guitar that had humans tapping toes and couples dancing on the pool terrace, not the formal dancing of the ballroom, but contemporary lighthearted dancing. Then, with some importuning from others, Linnea and her husband sang a duet sans accompaniment, a plaintive air that in spite of lack of translation, brought a tear to McCoy's eye. Two other humans performed. At that point, two women who looked vaguely Orion began an impromptu drumbeat, and sang something that from their wicked grins and arching brows sounded risqué, except that the most licentious parts appeared to be in an untranslated language.

That appeared to put the gathering in an amused mood, and Chris then said. "Sing Secret Love, Mandy."

"Oh, you don't want to hear that," Amanda said absently, toweling dry her hair.

But it appeared many did. A Vulcan - not Sarek, played a string intro on a lyre, and Amanda flicked a brow, set aside her towel, and again began without fanfare.

Once I had a secret love

That lived within the heart of me

She sang the song with irony, obviously amused by its over-the-top lyrics, looking from the crowd to sing unembarrassed to her husband, who had the tolerant but long suffering look of amusement that McCoy was well familiar with from seeing it often on Spock. But McCoy could see why she'd been asked to sing it. Apart from the teasing lyrics, it showcased the range of her voice as she skipped from note to note.

"Wow. She can really sing," McCoy said.

"She sings with the Academy Players," Abrams said. "Chris," he nodded to the man, hands stilled on his guitar listening raptly, "leads that group. Half a dozen of the people here tonight are in it as well. And they're all good. But Amanda is pretty exceptional even for that group. She gets a lot of practice. They usually do an opera a year. And Amanda is in it, when her other duties permit."

"Sarek doesn't mind?"

"He never misses a rehearsal," Abrams said, a bit sourly. "Much less a performance. So what do you think?"

"You in that group, Mark?"

The physician shook his head. "Fortunately, or unfortunately, I can't carry a tune. And have no desire to embarrass myself before that kind of audience. Vulcans are musical snobs. They can hear a quarter tone flat or sharp. It takes confidence as well as skill to sing before that kind of audience. And while humans were originally the main patrons, now a lot of Vulcans attend. It's gone from a little Shikahr group that performed mostly for friends, to a planet and even a sector phenomenon. I'll pass, thanks."

When Amanda finished her song to general applause, Kirk spoke up and said, "Uhura, you should sing something."

"Oh. I couldn't," Uhura demurred, looking both flattered to be asked but bowled over by Amanda's performance. "I don't think I'm quite in this league," she said softly to Kirk.

"Sure you are," he answered back.

"Do we have a new songbird in our midst?" Linnea asked, turning expectantly toward the Enterprise officers.

"Oh, you must," Amanda said. "We could use some new voices."

Uhura glanced around the group and smiled, recovering her confidence before their obvious entreaty. "Well, if Mr. Spock would be kind enough to accompany me..."

Spock had been sitting near Kirk, listening silently as was his usual habit, but he didn't seem daunted by the suggestion. He rose and joined Uhura before the group. Between the lyre and guitar offered him, he accepted the lyre. McCoy rather hoped Uhura wouldn't be too wicked in company - she had a mischievous side to her too when it came to teasing Spock and their occasional performances. But Spock didn't give her the option. He started the opening bars of Beyond Antares, one of the tamer of Uhura's selections, raising a brow to see if she accepted that option, and she nodded and began.

Uhura was like Amanda in that she sang with unselfconscious effortlessness, except for her lack of acclimation to the scarce oxygen. But the group wasn't large enough to require she cover a concert hall, and she managed well enough, recovering her aplomb after a verse and singing one verse suggestively to Spock, who flicked a brow at her, amused but undrawn, and unbent enough to join her in the last verse.

McCoy saw that Amanda was looking between the two, a look of wild surmise on her face.

"That was lovely, my dear," she said, when they finished.

Uhura demurred singing again, obviously struggling a bit for breath in the thin air. "But you should play something, Mr. Spock."

That gave everyone a bit of pause. Uhura's request was innocent. She didn't know much about Spock's problems with his parents, or any of his post mission details. And in the give and take performances in the Enterprise's rec room, Spock had generally performed more or less willingly when importuned. She didn't realize that he might never have done this before this sort of group, or that it might not be politic for him. His guests did, though, and some glanced from him to Sarek to Amanda, a bit curiously.

Now his brow furrowed a little, though he seemed unaware that at least part of the assembly held its collective breath. It appeared though, that he was merely thinking of what he might play. He held out his hand, exchanging the lyre for the guitar. McCoy hadn't known Spock could play a guitar as well as a piano and a lyre.

Spock strummed the opening bridge and tilted his head, and everyone realized he was going to sing as well as play. He sang a ancient Terran folk song. The lyrics were simple, but it had an intricate melody in the guitar accompaniment, to which he did full justice. When he finished, he handed the guitar back matter-of-factly and went to his seat before an audience almost too stunned to clap.

At this point, Chris played a soft instrumental, and casual conversation resumed. Uhura had latched onto the amphibianoids and was deep in conversation with them.

McCoy went off to make himself a drink when a clatter of wings near him half staggered him. He found beside him a being with huge wings, faintly luminescent, who was forgoing the refreshment table to browse in the foliage. "You're a Helios being, aren't you?" McCoy asked, looking the creature over appreciatively. "Never met one of your kind before."

"I am," the creature said. "Ambassadress Ning."

"Leonard McCoy," McCoy introduced himself. "You're a pretty thing," he said, eyeing the multi-colored gossamer wings.

Ning turned toward him. Her huge eyes had no lids, just several layers of nictating membranes, and they were faceted like jewels. "I wish I could return the compliment, Leonard," she said.

McCoy took a step back, because her jaw opened on a mouth like a maw, with a set of wickedly serrated teeth.

"But humanoids seem like an exceptionally unattractive species to me. Though naturally I am fond of our hosts. And if she did her hair differently, and wore a set of wings, Amanda could be a reasonably comely creature. But she is as weak as a nymph," Ning sighed in pity. "At least she has a decently stocked garden."

"Are you maligning me, Ning?" Amanda asked, coming up behind them. "Excuse me," she said to McCoy, getting herself a drink. "Singing is thirsty work."

"You have put in more Lonicera," Ning told her. "I approve."

"Do you like the new varieties?" Amanda asked her, sipping her drink. "Honeysuckle," she said to McCoy. "I ordered them from Terra just for you," she said to Ning.

"They smell fabulous," McCoy said.

"And taste better. I may take a cutting," Ning said. "Or two."

"Whatever you like," Amanda said. "And there's a new trumpet vine, hanging on the second arch over, which you might find to your taste."

"Well, you might have said so to me earlier," Ning said, partly offended, "You must recall that I always prefer to try a new bloom on a clear palate." She took off, her huge wings staggering McCoy in their downdraft.

Amanda met McCoy's eyes with amusement, struggling against a smile, and then she broke down and laughed, and McCoy joined in.

"You have an eclectic group of friends, Amanda," McCoy said.

"And you have a very pretty communications technician on the Enterprise," Amanda said, noticing the Enterprise's officer's attention on her. Uhura's disappointment at Ning's departure was visible. "I suppose it is too much to ask if she is in love with my son?"

"She's not a tech. She's a command officer. I think they are mostly just good friends. They tease each other at times." McCoy looked from Uhura to Amanda, seeing the similarities between them and understanding as never before why Uhura had ever gotten Spock to perform with her in the Enterprise's Main Rec. He'd grown up seeing such performances.

"Even better," Amanda said. "You've got to have a sense of humor to deal with a Vulcan. Love is all very well, and I wouldn't marry without it, naturally. But it doesn't go nearly far enough in facing life with a Vulcan." She looked over at Uhura speculatively. "I don't suppose she'd be seduced by a Vulcan castle, a nearly unpronounceable title, and a life of political intrigue? I'd promise her more but the good ones are never mercenary in that way, worse luck. I might even be willing to clear out of the Fortress and move to the Palace if it meant a girl like that would be taking my place here with my son."

McCoy choked in laughter at her question, clearly half serious, half irony. "I wouldn't want to speak for her." He raised a brow, turning serious. "I'd think Sarek and T'Pau would want Spock to hook up with another high-born Vulcan girl like T'Pring."

"Please, Leonard," Amanda said, giving him an aggrieved look. "Don't say that name in my house."

"She was a piece of work," McCoy agreed. "Can't say Spock grieved over her either."

"I don't really care what Sarek or T'Pau want in that vein," Amanda said. "Their team struck out. Their choice nearly got my son killed. Not to mention his friend and Captain. And the clock is ticking. I don't think we care to risk any surprises again. And while I would be the last to say that marriage to a Vulcan is a non-stop picnic, it would be easier with Spock than it has been Sarek. And my son's not a bad catch. Intelligent, handsome, kind. Not nearly as full of himself as his father is."

McCoy choked in laughter again.

"And as for her, anyone who can induce Spock to sing love duets in front of a mixed crowd of strangers, that incidentally includes his parents, and his formidable father, must have almost supernatural powers of attraction for him. He obviously likes her. She seems to like him. I didn't know he had those kind of friends on the Enterprise."

"I don't know," McCoy mused. "They are friends, of a sort. But as senior officers they're in the direct chain of command. She works for him. So a relationship between them beyond mere casual socializing in the rec room after watch is pretty much inappropriate in this Starfleet. I doubt it has gone farther than limited friendship."

"Am I supposed to really care about Starfleet?" Amanda asked, not sounding as if she was really seeking McCoy's opinion. "Because I don't."

"Well, Uhura is a good officer and a professional. She and Spock are both Fleet officers, so they obviously have cared to maintain the professional requirements of their relationship." He raised a brow and decided to put in a word for Christine. "I can tell you I have a Chief Nurse who's been desperately in love with your son. I don't think she'd have any trouble giving up Fleet."

Amanda gave him a sidelong look, rife with disparity. "You mean the soppy fake blond who couldn't keep her hands or her eyes off him? Or Sarek for that matter? Desperate is right."

McCoy raised brows at that. "She's a good person."

Amanda made a face, a mixture of impatience and regret. "I'm sure she is. And I'm sorry, Leonard. But she's totally wrong for Spock. He could never be attracted to a nurse, even apart from her... maudlin attitude. The medical profession is not exactly a favorite of his. And he surely wouldn't want a nursemaid who wants to moon over him. And hold his hand," she added, warming to her grievance. "It's totally unethical for her to do that to a Vulcan when he was not conscious, and able to consent. When I caught her at it, I was so miffed it was all I could do not to sock her."

"I have spoken to her about that," McCoy said gravely. "She doesn't mean it in a predatory way. She's just...human."

"Vulcans are touch-telepaths. It's..." Amanda shook her head, beyond exasperation, forcing herself to use more polite words than she was thinking. "practically mental rape of a sensitive telepath, which Spock is."

"Okay," McCoy held up hands in mock surrender. "I get it. Christine's out."

"Besides, she's too old for him."

"I can't really say that Spock has ever seriously encouraged her."

"He needs someone who can make him laugh," Amanda finished, looking over at Uhura speculatively. "And sing."

"Does Sarek?" McCoy asked.

Amanda looked back at him and raised a brow, Vulcan style. "Totally inappropriate," she warned him with a no trespassing air.

"Got it."

"And don't think that Spock is entirely Sarek. He is, and he isn't. And I don't think any of us, even Spock, know quite what that mix is."

Uhura came over, and smiled tentatively at Amanda. "I've so enjoyed the party, Lady Amanda. Thank you for inviting us."

"We're very pleased to welcome you," Amanda said.

"I was hoping to speak with Ambassadress Ning," Uhura said, looking anxiously after where the Helios being flew. "I've never spoken with a Helios before. Did she say she was leaving?"

"Not at all," Amanda said. "She's gone off to browse a trumpet vine in another part of the gardens."

"Oh, good. I'm getting a lot of practice in some of my less familiar languages this evening," Uhura said. "It's been a real treat. And that one would make my evening."

"Speaking of making evenings," Amanda said, still looking over Uhura speculatively from top to toes. She shrugged at Uhura's puzzled look and got back to Uhura's concerns. "We can certainly arrange introductions to whomever in the Alliance you'd care to meet with, to practice," she said. "While you are here."

"I'd be very grateful."

"If you'd like, you can spent the night, and we can set up appointments for you tomorrow."

"Oh, I have to take the con mid-watch," Uhura said, "but thank you."

"Can't see why," McCoy groused. "I mean, what good can a command officer do, when the darn ship's in pieces? It's absurd."

"It's regulation, Doctor," Uhura said, giving him an exasperated look. "There has to be a command officer in charge."

"Well, I won't try and persuade you from your regulations," Amanda said dryly. "I know how devoted Fleet officers are to those. And have had previous experience in trying to divert anyone from his duty for any reason at all."

"You can't switch with anyone?" McCoy prompted Uhura.

Uhura shook her head sadly. "I switched to get time off to go to this party," she confessed. "So, I can't."

"Well, perhaps you can come for lunch some day," Amanda suggested. "Certainly if you have any trouble arranging the contacts you wish to converse with - you have had an introduction now from this party tonight - but if you need more help, don't hesitate to contact us."

"That's very kind of you, Lady Amanda," Uhura said.

"Not at all," Amanda said. "I'd like to get to know my son's fellow officers and friends better. You seem to be ...something... of the latter."

Uhura looked at Amanda with sudden consciousness. "I hope I didn't embarrass Mr. Spock, in front of his Vulcan associates."

"He didn't seem embarrassed to me," Amanda said with a telling smile. "He seemed to be enjoying himself."

"Mr. Spock and I are friends," Uhura explained.

"Hmmm," Amanda said at that. "Oh," she turned her head as someone called her name. "Excuse me."

"Was she getting at what I was think she was meaning?" Uhura asked McCoy in an undertone.

"I think she was," McCoy said with a nod.

"Wow," Uhura said.

"You wouldn't fancy being chatelaine of a castle, now would you?" McCoy murmured. "You'd get all the practice in obscure languages here that you could want. Among other things. And don't tell me you haven't flirted with him."

Uhura looked over at Spock. "Get real, Doctor. He's tall, dark, and handsome. And the bridge at mid-watch can get very dull at times. Of course I have succumbed to flirting a bit."

"Regulations aside," McCoy teased.

"I can't say he's ever flirted back all that much. Not so that I'd - I mean, we tease each other, sure."

"You've always known who he was, haven't you?" McCoy asked.

Uhura's expression didn't give. "I'm a communications expert. What do you think?"

"Hmmm." McCoy thought about that. "As one, you know that teasing goes a long way with a Vulcan."

"I knew that he'd been ...promised. It was just teasing."

"But then he got divorced."

"I knew his parents would set him up with someone else. I mean I did know who he was, Doctor. I'm not a fool like," she bit her tongue before she said a certain blond nurse's name. "He's not likely to marry anyone out of a certain political line. Do you know who his Grandmother is?"

"I do. But Amanda seems to have taken a shine to you. Maybe you ought to accept that invitation to lunch," McCoy advised. "Though I don't know I'd fancy Sarek as a father-in-law."

"I think I'm going to faint," Uhura said.

"Don't worry," McCoy chuckled. "A bit of triox, and a stab of courage - you've got plenty of that - and you could end up half running this planet."

"I am going to faint," Uhura said, sitting down. But the look on her face was thoughtful. McCoy sank down beside her. "Doctor, how is Mr. Spock?"

McCoy bit his lip. "Best not ask too much about that."

"He's very gaunt. A bit frighteningly so. But he seems ...well enough?" she looked up at McCoy.

"He's well enough for this sort of thing, though his mental shields are a little fragile, mostly I think with people he knows well. But it may take him a little longer to come back to Starfleet than the Admiralty might give him. We can just do our best to help him get there."

"The Captain must be beside himself," Uhura said, looking across at Kirk, knowing him that well.

"He's had some bad days over it," McCoy admitted cautiously. "As we all have. But we're hopeful."

Uhura nodded. "I'll do whatever I can to help." McCoy looked at her and she blushed. "I didn't mean marry him. Well, who knows? But only if we got well past being friends and officers to something a lot more. And I don't really see that happening, do you? We just...tease a bit."

"I've never known him to tease and flirt with anyone else," McCoy said.

Uhura didn't argue with that. "He knows I'm safe." When McCoy looked at her, she said. "We're both officers, bridge officers, in the direct line of command. He knows I won't take it any further. And I know he won't. It's just...blowing off steam midwatch. Playing around in the rec room."

"The question is, if he isn't a bridge officer, and those barriers aren't in the way, would you be interested in taking it further? Don't think I'm pushing," McCoy added. "But the subject's come up…"

"I'm sure there are other barriers."

"Stop thinking like a Fleet officer, and think like Nyota."

"He has Vulcan responsibilities. I'm human."

"Didn't stop Sarek."

"Theirs was supposedly a whirlwind romance," Uhura nodded at where Amanda had returned to sit next to Sarek. As they watched, Amanda leaned back against her husband and said something inaudible to him, a smile playing on her lips. "I mean love at first sight," Uhura continued. "All the trimmings, a magical fairy tale," she looked at McCoy. "I'm a comm expert. I can read a news squirt."

"So," McCoy shrugged, "You and Spock are just more grown up than that."

"Doctor," Uhura gave him a look and he raised a telling brow. "I don't know," she confessed. "Never imagined it."

"Maybe it's time to find out," McCoy suggested.

"Surely Spock has enough on his plate." Uhura frowned at McCoy. "I think you've just had a bit too much to drink, Doctor."

"Not that much. And I can't see that it's a burden when people let you know they're fond of you," McCoy said. "Even when it's a supposedly non-emotional Vulcan. Spock does have a lot to deal with now. But I think he can use all the friends he can get. Even if it is just friendship. And if it's more, well, you know who he is. And if you're attracted too, from a practical perspective, a language expert and a diplomat make a nice mesh."

"I'll think about it," Uhura said.

"Feel about it," McCoy suggested. "And before you go, make sure you say good night to Spock."

"I will," Uhura said, looking a bit dazed. "But I think I need to sleep on all this. For now, I'm going to go look out for that Helios being."

"Second trumpet vine on the left," McCoy said.

Uhura rose and took a few steps away before turning. "What about Christine?" she asked suddenly. "I mean everyone knows how she feels about him."

McCoy shook his head and made a thumbs down. "Not even in the running. Anyway, he doesn't sing and play with her. You know that."

"Jim would kill me."

"Screw Jim."

"Really, Doctor," Uhura raised her chin. "A little teasing is one thing. But I'm not that kind of girl."

"Go on, get out of here," McCoy said with a smile. But then he looked back at his Captain with a pensive look and a muttered. "It's me that Jim really is going to kill."

The evening wound down. After some prompting, Amanda sang a song from Cinderella, and then a duet with another guest. Eventually Chris finished a song and looked over at Amanda as if asking if he should play another set. She shook her head and put her hands out to take the guitar from him.

"I guess this is it," Abrams said. "It's been a nice evening."

"Party's over?" McCoy asked, beginning to rise.

"Not quite yet. One more tune," Abrams said, as Amanda settled the guitar on her lap. Running her fingers over the strings, she begun to strum a simple melody.

"This song has developed into something of a theme song for humanoid expats on Vulcan since she first sang it," Abrams muttered to McCoy. "Invariably every one of Amanda's parties ends with it." Abrams shifted a bit uncomfortably. "We none of us can easily go home."

At the opening chords, attention turned back from their casual discussions or quiet reflections, sitting up expectantly to listen. She looked around at her guests, gathering their attention as she hadn't quite before, and began to sing and old folk song.

The water is wide

I can't cross over

And neither have

I wings to fly

Give me a boat

That will carry two4

And both shall row

My love and I

McCoy crossed over to sit sleeve to sleeve with Jim. Across from him, Spock had settled solemnly on Kirk's other side, their temporary awkwardness forgotten. The plaintive song had many of the humanoids wiping their eyes and leaning against each other. Amanda eyed Jim when she got to the verse.

A ship there is

And she sails the seas

She's loaded deep

As deep can be

But not as deep

As the love I'm in

I know not how

I sink or swim

When she came to the final chorus Amanda made an inclusive gesture with her hand, and most of the rest of party joined in, at least all the humanoids, some obviously moved beyond all the lyrics implied. Even Abrams, who claimed he couldn't carry a tune, sang softly but with no less feeling. The mood was infectious. The Vulcans listened wide-eyed to the emotional subtext. But then Kirk realized that among all the Vulcans, Spock was singing the chorus too, face set with the same hopeless longing.

The water is wide

I can't cross over

And neither have

I wings to fly

And Kirk bit his lip, suddenly uncomfortable. There had been times in the past when he'd been impatient with Spock's human side. When he'd needed Spock to be Vulcan. To use his Vulcan tricks, abilities to get on with the mission and get them through it.

It brought home a truth to him. Everyone assumed it was the human in Spock that he was friends with, which lay at the heart of their deep connection. But that wasn't entirely true. There were times when he needed, and wanted, the Vulcan in him even more.

And Kirk admitted to himself that perhaps here on Vulcan, it was what he felt was lacking most in Spock.

Next to him, sleeve to sleeve, attuned as they were, his shields uncertain, Spock caught that thought. He turned to his Captain and friend, shocked. His eyes wide, his face wild with surmise and accusing.

Kirk drew a breath, to explain, excuse.

But before Kirk could say anything, Spock rose to his feet and left.

To be continued...

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Footnotes:

1 Lord Byron, "She walks in Beauty"

2

"And here's to good old Boston

The land of the Bean and the Cod

Where the Lowells speak only to Cabots

And the Cabots speak only to God"

3 Attributed to Jesuits

4 "The Water is Wide" 15th century English folk song