Ёлка
It is early December, back on Earth - and Sulu has, twice more, now, found Chekov seated at the foot of the not-so-tall tree in the ship's arboretum.
At first Hikaru simply thought that it had been too long between shoreleaves – or Class M planets – and that Chekov just needed to see a tree.
But now, he wonders.
Everyone is a little homesick, he thinks, and it is no wonder that they seek the parts of the ship that remind them of their favorite places. But this particular tree has been getting a lot of attention in the last week or so.
Even Commander Spock – whom no one would ever dream of accusing of homesickness – was eying it appraisingly just the other day. He did not actually look confused; but though he stood for some time in front of it, he did not seem satisfied by whatever he discovered - and he paced away in his deliberate fashion.
Now, Sulu finds Timkins here, his red tunic contrasting vividly with the sweeping blue-green branches.
"Hey, Joel," Sulu greets him.
Timkins glances back, then awkwardly climbs to his feet when he sees who is there. "Hi," he says, and he seems a little embarrassed. "I was just… uhm -"
Sulu feels for him, and is figuring out a suitable reply, when the door whooshes again. And like a miracle, Captain Kirk walks in, right at that moment. He saunters over. "Hello, Timkins, Sulu." He gives them each a nod. "Visiting the tree?"
Sulu laughs. "I was going to water it, actually. But Timkins was here for a visit, I think."
Timkins looks positively sheepish.
But Captain Kirk doesn't notice. "Yeah, you and a lot of people, lately." Maybe he catches the slight reddening of Timkins' ears, but he doesn't comment. "Little wonder, I should say."
Timkins looks like he's not sure how to respond. "Really?"
"Well, of course. Long way from home, Lieutenant. Right?"
"Yes… Yes, sir." And Timkins is getting ready to escape, but he smiles, first. "Thank you, sir."
"No problem." The Captain smiles, too – and he suddenly looks a lot younger.
After the door closes, Kirk drops to the ground. He looks up – an invitation to Sulu – and when the other joins him, nods at the tree. "Beautiful," he says.
Sulu agrees.
"I always liked pines," the Captain says, and he seems a little nostalgic. "Especially the ones that smell like butterscotch. But they're all good: Ponderosa, Blue Spruce, Lodgepole…" His voice trails off, then starts again, musing. "I figured maybe I'd have a cabin, someday, way out in the woods, where the snow falls really thick – and where no one ever heard of Captain Kirk, you know?"
Sulu doesn't know what to say. He wonders which Captain Kirk they're even talking about, but wouldn't think of asking. This one doesn't talk about himself much, like this; and Sulu keeps quiet, not wanting to interrupt.
The Captain seems to realize Sulu's predicament: He laughs, a little, and looks over. "Well, not this winter."
Sulu nods in agreement, somewhat relieved at the turn in the Captain's mood, and conversation.
Kirk leans back, then, on his hands, and stretches his legs out in front of him, his ankles crossed. He's smiling, gazing at the tree. His feet waggle a bit – The Captain is relaxed, happy.
After a few minutes, he looks over at Sulu, again. "Think we oughta decorate it?"
It hadn't occurred to Sulu before: That's why they have all been coming – It's a pine tree, and it's almost Christmas.
He had been so busy thinking of it as simply a tree...
Hikaru's quick glance takes in the small smile of contentment on the Captain's face, before his eyes turn back to the tree. He says, thoughtfully, "Maybe."
He thinks, then, of Chekov, weeks ago, sitting right here, blinking at a tiny little Russian toy hung on the lowest branches of the tree. He looks once more at the Captain, and answers again, more firmly. "Yes."
The Captain looks over at him, grins. Sits up, slaps his shoulder. "Good. Let's." He's climbing to his feet, then, and reaches to pull Hikaru up. Their hand-clasp seems to seal a bargain.
A week later, Sulu is standing in the arboretum. He's not sure why he received this assignment. Maybe it's his familiarity with the plants – or maybe it's something else, entirely: It was the Captain's idea.
Lieutenant Sulu is officially in charge of Operation Tannenbaum. His unofficial deputy is Lieutenant Uhura: She knows just about everyone on the ship – by voice, if not by face - and has a way of getting them to listen with an open mind. She has been spreading the word, and encouraging them to come. (She's also singing Christmas carols – which has definitely helped set the mood.)
So people trickle in to check on progress, maybe help out – and they promise to return, later, with something special to hang on the tree.
But Sulu has done his own recruiting, too, seeking out those who have been seen, in the last month or so, gazing at this tree.
Timkins is rigging small spotlights. That seems a fitting task for an engineer far from home. He has Watley helping him, and that seems right, too.
Hickerson is holding the ladder – The three tunics make a vivid splash in the green green of the arboretum.
Jakobsen and Chekov sit on the ground, stringing popcorn and cranberries. Her white-blonde head leans toward him, as she makes some comment, and he blushes beet red. Their accents are complementary, as well - the deft soft Swedish and tangled Russian - as they compare notes on traditions of their respective homelands. They both stand automatically, without thinking, when Commander Spock comes in.
He nods, but does not comment; and they both sit, again, when he has gone past.
Uhura turns, and smiles, when she sees him. "Commander," she says, and she seems to be surprised.
"Lieutenant," he responds, his demeanor serious as ever.
"We're decorating the Christmas tree," she announces proudly.
"So I see," he replies.
And, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she takes his arm and leads him toward it. He goes with her, gravely, and does not free himself from her grasp. He listens courteously to what she is saying, "…and then the garlands. And after that, all of the individual ornaments." She glances up at him for a moment, before looking, again, at the tree. "I'm really hoping that everyone will get into the spirit and bring something to put on it. You know - Something beautiful, a reminder of home…" Her free hand gestures, conjuring something of her vision; and her voice trails off.
"Yes, that would be fitting," he says, solemnly, "if I understand correctly both the history and ongoing cultural significance of this tradition."
Her smile is bright, as she looks up at him; and his eyes slide toward her, just for an instant, before gazing back at the tree. He nods, gently, before he turns to go.
She calls after him, softly, "Commander? I'll call you if we need help, later, okay?"
And he nods once more before soundlessly slipping from the room.
Captain Kirk is grinning widely at the assembled group of people, when Mr. Spock returns. More are arriving by the moment, and they stand around in various clumps - chatting, talking, laughing. A good-natured argument has broken out about the best of traditions, and Chekov caps them with his insistence that, after all, it's really better to celebrate Christmas in January - and what are they, anyway, impatient children?
Jakobsen is laughing. She says teasingly, smiling at him, that she thinks he would look wonderful dressed as a gnome – and, by the way, does he like almonds?
Standing with them, Sulu laughs at the confusion on his friend's face. He suggests that maybe Chekov should learn more Swedish – or about the Swedish, at any rate. Jakobsen grins, and draws the Russian off to one side, her face alight.
Almost unnoticed, Commander Spock has slipped back into the room as quietly as he had left it, his hands full of what looks like wire. He stands, alone, for a moment, his bright blue tunic standing out against the mass of red and gold of the assembled personnel. He does not join them, but, instead, steps to the side, and seats himself on a bench where he can observe their activities. As he puts his things down, it strikes Sulu that the Commander always does seem to be alone - solitary somehow - even in a crowd. Even with Uhura - though maybe a little less so, then.
She has noticed his arrival, and is headed that way.
Captain Kirk is working the crowd. Sulu may be in charge of the decorating part, but this is definitely Kirk's party. He is greeting people, talking to them, making them fall in love with him all over again. Sulu is amazed, once more, by the details that Kirk remembers about his crewmen – the things that strike him as important. The Captain doesn't have much time, really, to interact with all of these people on a day-to-day basis; but he knows something special – some little fact – about each one, even if it's only a nickname, a place of birth, a hobby.
Sulu is greeting the others who have come to help. He assigns them tasks he thinks they will enjoy, alongside people they probably should get to know.
Timkins and Watley have finished with the lights. Watley stands with Hickerson, as Timkins unobtrusively tests them, then climbs down from his perch.
Chekov and Jakobsen's popcorn-and-cranberry strands are laid out neatly, ready to be hung. The others finish with their various garlands, too. They stand, brushing at their clothes with that universal gesture of an untidy task completed. They are smiling with satisfaction and camaraderie.
Sulu thanks them, and admires the results of their efforts. He goes to get another ladder: It's time to get the show on the road.
The Captain climbs the tallest ladder to hang the very first strand of hand-made garland. He is the consummate showman: He gives the task full, solemn weight – as though he's christening a ship. He drapes the end of the garland across the topmost branch, arranges the next few feet as best he can, looks down and nods. The person holding the other end walks away, winding the length around the tree. Kirk turns, then, and leans against the top of the ladder – grinning boyishly, and laughing a little at his own solemnity.
There are answering grins from the onlookers around him, then - and no shortage of volunteers, when, climbing down, he stops and says, "Next!" before hopping over the last two rungs into the waiting crowd.
Sulu makes the rounds.
Uhura had moved closer to watch and to lend her voice for the first round of garland, but is standing, now, near Commander Spock. Sulu goes over to talk to her. "I thought I'd go up to the Bridge, maybe give some of those guys a chance to come down for a few minutes while everyone's still here," he says. He looks over, idly, and sees that Commander Spock is using his fingers to bend a length of stiff wire into elaborate scrolls.
"That's a good idea," Uhura says. Her eyes meet Spock's for a moment; his nod is almost invisible. She smiles at Sulu, her green earrings swinging as she turns her head. "Do you want me to go with you?"
"If you want. I'm betting Chekov will go, and Jakobsen. Hannity. Kyle, maybe."
Spock neatly sets aside his wire, and stands. Uhura puts her hand gently on his arm, just for a moment – and Sulu is struck with the notion that, for her, it's like a surreptitious hug. That's kind of sweet, he thinks: Merry Christmas to her... Spock moves toward the Captain, catches his eye. They exchange a few words while Sulu and Uhura collect volunteers to spell the Bridge.
They go out together, heading for the turbolift. They step inside, and Uhura somehow is beside the Science Officer, then. She keys in the code for the Bridge. He keys in another, then says, quietly, into the hush of the lift, "I will make certain that the scientists and technicians realize they are free to attend, if they so desire."
There is a brief silence, before Uhura answers, a smile evident in her voice, "Thank you, Commander. That's very thoughtful."
Spock doesn't reply; but, Sulu thinks, he doesn't need to…
He comes to the Bridge with the returning on-shift crew - They are merry, indeed, and Sulu is glad he thought to spell them.
Spock does not linger there, but travels with them as they head back down to the arboretum. The lift stops for Engineer Scott, who looks delighted to see him. "Commander, you forgot these – You're goin' to need 'em if you want to do anything with that E716. That's difficult stuff to work with." He holds out two pairs of non-marring pliers. Spock takes them without comment and stands for a moment looking at them resting in the palms of his hands, before his long fingers curl around them, and lower them from sight. He nods.
But Scott has gone on to chat with Kyle.
In the Arboretum, the tree trimming party is in full swing, and the tree is beginning to look very festive – if a little bit of a jumble. Uhura laughs, and moves forward to sing for the assembled crowd waiting to put their decorations on the tree. The majority of the returning volunteers join her there, getting out their own ornaments, as well.
Unbidden, there has sprung up a small ritual to accompany this celebration. As each person steps up, he says something about his chosen decoration - tells a brief story of the item, what it represents, maybe its personal significance. People scope out spots for each others' ornaments, and take turns moving and holding the ladders, supporting their friends. Standing in their midst, the Captain is rapt, his eyes brilliant – He is trying to commit each moment to memory, cherishing what he is learning about his crew.
In contrast, Commander Spock sits alone, off to the side. He is obviously listening to what the others choose to say – he raises his head, occasionally, to glance at the crewmen's faces – but his memory is facile, and he does not need to concentrate to hear and remember. Instead, he directs his attention to what his fingers are forming from mottled gold-and-copper-colored wire.
Sulu walks over to talk to him; Spock looks up at his approach, then shifts a little, so that Sulu can join him on the bench. He has fashioned a figure comprised of a series of long loops and spirals arrayed along a central axis. He has cut some shorter lengths, and is curling the very ends of these with his fingertips before twisting them onto the figure's spine to form crossbars.
There is a loud burst of laughter over by the tree, and Spock raises his eyes briefly to observe those laughing people, without moving otherwise. Could he have understood the words preceding the laughter? Their context? The bitter-sweet emotion accompanying them?
In the months that they have worked together, Sulu has not given much thought to what motivates their Vulcan First Officer. Oh, he has ideas; but, really, he hasn't thought much beyond the man's intelligence and powerful curiosity. Spock is just Spock: He does his job, and minds his own business. Captain Kirk, clearly, trusts him implicitly; and, oddly, he's one of the Captain's closest friends.
Now, Hikaru wishes he understood the man better.
Looking down, Sulu finds the object taking shape before his eyes vaguely familiar. He tries to figure out what it looks like – some sort of petro- or geoglyph, perhaps - but thinks, then, that his mind is playing tricks on him, trying to make sense of something unfamiliar.
As a child, Sulu visited, several times, the Federation Member Planet exhibits. He had stared in fascination at the curious artifacts. The Vulcan scrolls reminded him of the ones cherished by his own grandfather, and he had wondered about their books - The strange writing intrigued him. Now, looking at the elegant wire figure twirling in long alien hands, he realizes that it isn't an icon or image, at all: It is a word. Commander Spock has written a message that only he - and one or two others, maybe, on this ship - will be able to read. Sulu is struck with a sudden sadness, and he wonders briefly whether their unemotional First Officer is ever lonely, or homesick. Surely, at this time of year, he must remember the Human woman who gave him life…
Sulu risks a glance at Spock's face, then wishes he hadn't. It looks just the same as always.
What does the man feel behind that placid, public face?
Spock looks up at him, just for an instant, before looking back down at his own moving fingers.
Sulu watches those fingers, then, too. Each movement is rapid yet careful, exhibiting typical Vulcan precision.
Spock has finished attaching the crossbars and is now using tiny fine strands of copper to wire small red crystals to their ends. Sulu thinks back to the Vulcan exhibit, remembering circular serifs, and dots floating alongside the unintelligible words.
A message, definitely. He wonders who is expected to read it…
Apparently, Spock has finished: He has threaded a delicate filament through the top of his figure, and with swift, sure movements, ties it securely into a loop. He sets the object aside, and gathers up the remnants from his task: Cutters, the spool of fine wire, the unused pliers Scotty had provided. He glances, then, at Sulu, and says, "If you will excuse me, Lieutenant?" before standing and moving toward the door.
Sulu wanders over to the group clustered by the tree. They shift a bit, to make room for him, and Sulu is grateful that he has made the effort to get to know so many of the crew. It would be so easy to stick with those he worked with, and not look beyond those few for friendship.
He is in time to see Timkins pull out an apple, relating a wistful tale of visits to an orchard with his cousins, and his aunt who died on the Hood. There is a small silence that extends after he has descended the ladder. The next person steps forward, and holds up his contribution. Each time, the small silence is repeated – and Sulu begins to understand how very much the crew needed these moments – this moment - together.
The crowd is starting to thin some, although people do still continue to trickle in – They probably will, Sulu thinks, for days. Now, though, they hang their ornaments, mill around for a minute or two, and leave - not lingering as long to watch others do the same. The evening is growing later, and the shifts have all changed.
In an unspoken agreement, however, certain members of the Command and Bridge Crews dawdle, as though waiting for some secret signal that it is their chance to participate, and not just lurk at the sidelines cheering the others on.
Sulu decides he'd better go get his own contribution, left carefully in his quarters where the delicate material would not get damaged. The Captain looks over, and smiles – Jim seems to realize what he is up to.
Hikaru hopes, a little, that they will wait for him.
When he returns, the crowd has dispersed, and there is only a small knot of very familiar faces lit by the radiant glow of the tree. The faces turn toward him and smile, and he realizes with a lift in his heart that they have, in fact, been waiting for him.
There is an expectant hush, then, and Lieutenant Uhura steps forward. She looks around at each of their faces, and her eyes are glistening, suspiciously bright. In that waiting stillness, then, she draws breath, and sings an ancient carol of hope and joy and peace. The hush continues when she has done, before the spell is broken: There is a gusty collective exhale, and they all turn to one another, and smile, and laugh, and embrace. There are more eyes glistening, and more than one sleeve drawn surreptitiously across them. Only Commander Spock seems entirely unmoved, standing unmoving in their midst. Yet, it is to him that Uhura goes when she has received all of their hugs and expressions of thanks, and he tilts his head toward her and says something very quietly that makes her smile.
The Captain makes a little speech, after that; and, with great ceremony once more, hangs his own ornament on the tree. His grin is self-mocking, when he is done; but it widens in delight at their obvious appreciation, and genuine joy.
Chekov is next, hanging his little Russian peasant doll with a bashful explanation.
Jakobsen's little plaited straw goat hangs unevenly on its red thread, but looks beautiful anyway, dangling high-up in a field of blue-green.
McCoy is gruff, and tries to mutter something grouchy, when it's his turn – but he can't keep the pretense going: He grins when Uhura hugs him and says something teasing.
One by one, they step forward, say a few words, pick a spot - climb the ladder, or lean or crouch to place something beautiful or special or homely on the tree. There might be a comment or a hug or a smile afterward from the onlookers; then they wait, in silence, for the next one to go.
It's down to Sulu, now. He steps forward and holds up the delicate sheet of rice paper. He has written the names of all of his family on the back, where they will be enfolded, as he makes his figure. He explains about Origami, and about the ancient tradition of The 1000 Cranes, folding as he talks. At the end, he holds up the finished crane, and places it ceremoniously on a branch. He is surprised, when he steps back, to hear Spock's quiet voice asking, "This is a wish, is it not, for World Peace?" Sulu nods, mutely, wondering how the other came to know the story of Sadako Sasaki.
Spock's answering nod seems to hold complete understanding.
It is clear the others think the unofficial ceremony has concluded, and they shift a little, preparing to disperse. All except Uhura, who stands still, looking at Spock, who is gazing at the tree, unheeding. After a moment, he seems to feel her eyes upon him, and looks around. When he steps forward, then - with straight-backed formal dignity - silence falls; and all faces are turned toward him - in surprise, in curiosity - in wonder.
He paces slowly around the tree, eyeing it, looking for the perfect spot to hang his ornament. When he finds an empty place, just above his eye level, he pauses – and they all gather around him. After a second, he reaches up and loops a filament over a tiny imperfection in the branch. His hands drop, and he moves to the side, so that they can all see. "Sochya," he says, and in his grave, solemn voice, it seems like a benediction. The ornament gleams red-and-gold in the light, revolving gently around that perfectly straight vertical axis, depending upon on its now-invisible supporting strand.
Spock steps back, and speaks again: "Peace."