nsufferable.
Captain Solok lowered himself into the same chair he had occupied seven years prior when he'd issued his challenge of a game of baseball to the man sitting in front of him.
Captain Benjamin Sisko practically brimmed with glee from the other side of the large black desk. No doubt still basking in the artificial glow of his manufactured victory if the sentimental absurdity of that signed baseball displayed atop it was any indication.
It was, of course, an emotional reaction on his part, Solok understood, and he resolved to meditate on it later that evening. However, it would be illogical to deny the disgust he felt at the ridiculousness of his rival celebrating a defeat at his hands. And a sound one at that.
Even the one run the Niners had managed to score had been a quirk of fate and not the hard earned result of effort and skill.
Solok growled. Inwardly, of course. He would sooner part ways with his own katra than permit Sisko to know how much his illogical reaction to the loss irked him.
But what really chafed Solok was he had lost control of the narrative or any control over Sisko really. For most of their careers, Solok had the advantage of irrefutable Vulcan superiority in nearly every respect. And he was just petty enough to manipulate the predictable human male's emotions in ways that proved his points in the academic arena.
Until that game when these insufferable, emotionally driven people chose to ignore reality and conjure up their own outcome.
Perhaps Solok was most frustrated that logic was not as malleable as attitude. Logic was as immutable as gravity. It existed as it was regardless of acknowledgement. Apparently though, it wielded less influence when intentionally ignored. Sisko's team simply blatantly chose to react in a way that dismissed reality.
The irrationality and illogic of it still gnawed at him.
Still though… he hadn't survived the front lines of the Dominion War by going down without a fight.
He eyed the signed baseball with a mischievous smirk and the old familiar smugness rose up in him like bubbles in a champagne glass.
It was petty. It was delicious. It was irresistible. And no matter what Sisko's reaction to it was, it was gratifying just to say it out loud and get the irrefutable truth out in the universe again.
"I see your participation trophy has lost none of its sentimental value."
The two captains exited Sisko's office with a baseball rematch scheduled for the Thursday two weeks out.
The repairs and refit of the T'kumbra were projected to take about a month and Solok wasn't opposed to playing more than one game.
A portion of his officers had chosen to use the long layover as an opportunity to take personal leave. The rest had chosen to utilize their time in the service of their captain and crew by assisting in the refit efforts and/or on the baseball team.
It wasn't exactly the same team as he'd had several years ago for that first game. Since then, a handful of those officers had been promoted and taken posts elsewhere, but he'd had little difficulty filling the vacant spots.
Quite by accident, Solok and his crew had grown rather fond of the Terran game. What began merely as a way to rub Sisko's nose in Vulcan superiority again, so to speak, had also provided his crew with a much needed diversion from the stress of near constant battle in the Dominion War.
Off duty crew often dropped in to observe practices and express their support and encouragement and indulge their curiosity about the game. So commonplace had it become to have an audience during practice that Solok had modified the program from simple practice field to minor league baseball stadium with snack bars that offered Vulcan foods and a handful of Terran offerings for the even more curious.
It had been gratifying to see the boost in morale and camaraderie among his crew.
Despite Sisko's unexpected reaction to the Niners defeat, Solok had found the overall experience of baseball a positive one and his senior staff showed interest in continuing to practice and play regularly. The T'kumbra now boasted four teams among its crew of over 700.
Regarding the rematch with the Niners though, Solok was hardly concerned. His all Vulcan team would easily demolish Sisko's band of undisciplined misfits, he noted with smug satisfaction as they stepped into the lift.
"Docking ring," Sisko instructed the lift in his deep baritone and clasped his hands behind his back in a more relaxed manner than Solok had ever seen from the human. Of course, he'd never given Sisko sufficient reason to be relaxed around him. Yet another way in which Sisko's affect towards him had changed.
The duo remained comfortably silent as the lift descended through the levels. It slowed and halted 20.9 seconds later, depositing them at the desired location.
"I am most curious to meet Captain Lochlan," Solok mentioned. "Despite our years in Starfleet, our paths have never crossed. Having similar professional and educational backgrounds, I would be most interested to discuss a number of topics with her."
He motioned for Sisko to exit the left first and then joined the other man on his left side as they strode down the corridor in a fast walk.
At least as a tall man, Sisko could keep up with Solok's usual brisk pace. It was one of the few ways in which the human could keep up with him.
Sisko gave Solok a suspicious glance and Solok fought to keep the smirk off his face. Finally, a reaction other than unearned gloating.
That Sisko didn't trust his motives told Solok that Sisko was aware that Captain Lochlan was a Vulcan/Human hybrid.
"She and I served together on the Repulse when we were lieutenants. She was one of the ship's counselors. If you are looking for a new victim for your pot shots at humanity, I should warn you that she can give as good as she gets," Sisko grinned with what Solok believed humans to refer to as anticipatory glee.
"Excellent. I do so appreciate a worthy opponent," Solok replied pointedly, undaunted.
Sisko shrugged his shoulders.
"Suit yourself," he said, obviously making it a point to remain unfazed at Solok's attempts to get a rise out of him.
Solok was growing increasingly frustrated by it.
The men rounded a corner and covered the short distance to Airlock 4 and found Captain Lochlan deep in conversation with the station's Chief of Operations.
Solok observed her as they approached. The chief had apparently remembered his grease soaked hands and cultural awareness when he gave Lochlan's arm an appreciative squeeze.
He winced, realizing his mistake and rushed to apologize.
"I-Im so sorry, ma'am! I completely forgot to wash the grease off my hands before I rushed up here!"
Putting a calming hand on his shoulder, Sadara tried to talk him down. Patient warmth emanated from her in soothing tones even as her impassive expression never faltered.
"Don't sweat it, chief. I've seen worse. And it will give me an excuse to change into civvies. Remind me sometime to tell you about the time a case of Klingon bloodwine fell right next to me and exploded in the cargo bay. Modern day Vulcans typically don't care to bathe in such things," she said with amusement.
Solok blinked in surprise at Lochlan's graceful handling of the chief's awkwardness.
"I will, ma'am," the chief grinned, relieved to be let off the hook so easily. He straightened at the sight of Captain Sisko's approach.
"Chief," Sisko nodded at the man who had replaced Miles O'Brien when the latter moved his family back to Earth and took a teaching position at Starfleet Academy. He was a smaller guy with similar hair and eye color to Chief O'Brien, but more of a people pleaser. Still, he was a skilled engineer always looking for ways to improve himself and help others do the same.
"Captain. Well, I'll go get started on all this. Two ships are going to keep me busy for a while," he grinned eagerly and hurried off.
Sisko watched him go for a moment and then turned back to Lochlan.
"Sadara," he grinned with obvious affection. "It's good to see you."
"Likewise." She glanced around and a hint of amusement crept into her voice. "I can see why you chose to stay out here in the sticks. Takes longer and more effort for brass to reach you out here."
"Yes it does," Sisko grinned knowingly and turned to the Vulcan standing beside him.
"Sadara, this is Captain Solok of the USS T'Kumbra. He expressed an interest in meeting you."
"I did," Solok agreed, distractedly.
Sadara turned toward Solok and offered the Ta'al.
"Captain Solok. Peace and long life."
Their eyes met and Solok's mouth went dry as if it was full of cotton. A little voice in the back of his mind reminded him that it was his turn to acknowledge her, but he felt paralyzed to speak or even move. He blinked in confusion as he struggled with the unusual sensations.
Through his peripheral vision, he noticed Sisko's curiously amused glance and he fought harder to regain control of his unexpected lapse in control.
"Greetings, Captain," he finally croaked, returning the Ta'al.
Her eyes danced with gentle amusement, but she mercifully didn't draw any more attention to the hiccup in his control.
Sisko though, Solok wasn't so sure about, but he kept his attention on the woman in front of him.
The fusion of warmth and serenity gave her a unique and exotic beauty that drew Solok like a moth to a flame.
Suddenly, Solok felt like he was burning up and his stomach turned in somersaults. Even the points of his ears felt like they were on fire.
On fire…, he thought as the realization hit him like a ton of bricks.
Vulcans, especially the males, were heavily cautioned from youth to be on guard against it lest they lose their way and even themselves. Solok though had dismissed it as something that befell less disciplined Vulcans. He'd never seriously considered he'd ever fall prey to it.
He visibly swallowed hard, drawing curious glances from Sisko and Lochlan.
The Shon Hal Lok.
The engulfment.