five
Two days later, on the tenth day of the mission, things changed. Spock was in the community kitchen fixing Christine a snack when Sapphira entered unexpectedly. He raised an eyebrow at this. She had never come here before; why was she here now? He felt her eyes on him for some time, but forced himself to ignore her...until she approached him.
"What are you doing here, My Lady?"
"I wish to speak to you, Spock."
"I have already done my duty by you. I am under no further obligation to you."
Sapphira's voice became a purr. "Is that all you considered it? I enjoyed myself immensely."
"Obviously," the Vulcan returned dryly even as she moved up next to him and stroked his back. Spock did not react to the touch.
"Your mistress dislikes me. I feel sure she would turn me down, should I offer for you again." Sapphira's hand moved down to trace the curve of his lower back.
"So you are trying to convince me to speak to her on your behalf," Spock finished. "I am sorry. I cannot."
Her hand moved down further.
"My Lady! I am not your property. Please refrain from touching me in such an intimate manner, or else I will be forced to report your actions."
Her reply was almost a sneer. "Who would you report to? I am the law here."
"Then you are breaking one of your own laws, as I understand them...
specifically, the one which states that no woman, even the planetary leader, may trespass on the property of another woman—specifically, a male slave, without the other woman's permission." The Vulcan recalled the briefing Christine had given him of current Sapphiran law upon their beaming down.
"I can change the laws as easily as snapping my fingers," she bluffed—but Spock did not back down.
"But you would punish one of your own people if they did what you are doing, would you not?"
"I would," she told him. "Most severely."
"Yet you believe it permissible for you yourself to trespass on another woman's property in order to satisfy your desires. That is what is known as a 'double standard'."
"I am the ruler of this planet. You will obey me, or else I will destroy you!""You do not own me. I belong to the Lady Christine." Spock picked up the tray with the sandwich and drink and headed for the kitchen door.
"I am not finished with you, Spock. You go nowhere until I say you can!"Her hand caught his right arm, taking him by surprise; the tray tilted and the drink spilled—but he managed to save the sandwich...barely. The liquid made a pinkish-orange puddle on the floor, and the plastic glass rolled until it came to rest against the nearest table leg.
"That was uncalled for. I am performing a service for my mistress. Now I must replace the drink." His voice was barely civil as he set the sandwich and tray aside, heading for the fridge to replenish the drink after picking up the glass and rinsing it.
Sapphira took the opportunity to push the Vulcan back against the wall next to the fridge, kissing him passionately as she pressed herself against him, her tongue forcing its way into his unwilling mouth even as one hand reached between his legs. The other hand held one of his wrists—but only one, which was her mistake. Spock regretted what he had to do, but saw no other option.
His free hand found the junction of his assailant's neck and shoulder, gently squeezing. Her eyes glazed over and her body went limp. He placed her in a chair at the table as he cleaned up the spilled drink and replaced it with a fresh one, taking his leave without looking back. He had to tell Christine about this. At the very least, what Sapphira had done was sexual harassment; at worst, assault. The Vulcan applied the kind of pinch which would keep Sapphira out for at least a quarter of an hour, giving him time to explain what had happened.
Christine could tell something had happened when Spock returned and set the tray with the drink and sandwich in front of her. He tried to hide it, but his body language told her he had been badly shaken by something. What could have happened in the short time he'd been away from her...and in the kitchen, of all places? Halfway through the sandwich and drink, she reached to touch his hand. He looked up at her, eyes full of hurt, anger, and fear.
"Spock, something happened to you. Something bad. Please tell me what it is."
He hung his head and flushed, unable to answer.
"Was it Sapphira? Did she come on to you again?"
He could only nod.
"What did she do? You must tell me—or else we could be in big trouble."
The Vulcan lifted his head and forced himself to speak, his grip on her hand tightening. "I had...made your sandwich and drink when Sapphira entered the kitchen."
Christine frowned. "You were alone, I take it. She'd never have done anything in front of witnesses."
Spock nodded again, telling her about his encounter with Sapphira in the kitchen, repeating their conversation as close to verbatim as he could bear to...then his head bowed again. What Christine could see of his face and ears was a deep green.
"I'm sorry, Spock. If only I could have been there to stop her."
"It was—not your fault." His voice was barely audible.
"Neither was it yours. If nothing else, we might have to say that Sapphira is not trustworthy because of what she did, and we should think twice about negotiating any kind of treaty with her. Either that, or we can suggest to her...ever so subtly...that if she doesn't agree to our terms, we'll tell the Federation Council what happened and the membership application will be rejected."
"That is blackmail," Spock pointed out upon raising his head.
Christine was pleased to note that his color had lessened. "What she tried to do to you is no less unspeakable, so we're even," she returned archly. "Just the same, we'd better be prepared for a fight. If I know her kind, she'll probably claim that you instigated the whole thing. Fortunately, the Vulcan reputation for honesty is well-known here, so that should help us."
It was as expected. Sapphira denied all of Spock's allegations when they confronted her the next day, the eleventh day of the mission, claiming that he had been the aggressor. Worst of all, there had been no witnesses. She had made sure of that, so it was his word against hers. What could they do, even with the truth on their side, to get Sapphira to admit what she'd done?
Christine looked right through Sapphira; her face told the other woman that she didn't believe a word she said...with good reason.
"You doubt my word?" Sapphira's tone was ominous.
"Spock has never lied to me," Christine declared. "And I have never trusted you. If you can assault Spock, you're capable of anything."
With the accusing eyes of the other women and their slaves (including Pietro) on her, there was little Sapphira could do but admit her heinous act—but even then, she tried to whitewash herself. "He said he would comply with my wishes."
"With my permission...which I never gave." Christine's voice was severe. "Instead, you tried to take him by force, something which you would punish one of your own people for. You've broken one of your own laws. I would be within my rights to begin legal proceedings against you.
"Unless you agree to sign a mining treaty with us—on our terms—for your dilithium and pergium, one word from us will deem you untrustworthy, and this planet will be put off-limits to Federation ships. Lastly, your membership application will be rejected, because the Federation Council will be told what you've done."
Sapphira was furious. "That's blackmail," she spat.
"Your sexual harassment and attempted assault cancels out our 'blackmail'," Christine returned evenly, thankful for her decision to study Federation law upon learning of this mission.
Sapphira was speechless with fury, but agreed to sign the mining treaty the following day at a signing ceremony in the Women's Pavilion. Christine warned Spock to be on his guard whenever he was alone the last three days of the mission. It was obvious that the Vulcan could take care of himself, but Spock assured her he would keep in mind what Sapphira had done and make sure she didn't corner him again.
The final days of the mission passed uneventfully. Christine was glad she wouldn't have to deal with Sapphira again, for she was sure that the woman could have killed her and taken pleasure in doing it. The Doctor hadn't particularly enjoyed what she'd had to do, but knew she would do whatever was necessary to protect Spock, as he would her.
She also knew that it would take a long time for Spock to recover his Vulcan demeanor after two weeks among the hedonistic Sapphirans. The after-effects of the experience would stay with them for months to come, as had the memories of the mind-control and sadism on Platonius. It was also quite likely that he was still trying to sort out what had happened to him during the V'Ger mission some weeks ago, so this added emotional disturbance didn't help matters.
Kirk was pleased that the mission had been successful, but sensed that an emotional trauma had beset his Vulcan friend in the process, compounding his guilt at having been forced to send him there. He wanted to talk to Spock, but the Vulcan's tight control kept the Captain at arm's length. He ached for his friend, but couldn't help unless Spock allowed it.
Spock also avoided Christine for several weeks after the Sapphiran mission, and though she was hurt, she told herself she understood and didn't try to approach him after her initial attempt. She vowed to help him in any and every way she could—as soon as he gave her an opening. He needed time to get his head together, a chance to put what they had done into some sort of perspective.
The one time she had tried to talk to Spock, he had hidden behind his Vulcan mask, declaring that everything he had done (including their relationship on the planet) had been done out of duty. Christine had her doubts, however, especially when she recalled their times alone together.
He was no doubt reinforcing his mental shields and the corresponding disciplines, but if her own difficulty in putting the incident behind her was any barometer, Spock had to be going through Hell...to put it mildly! She could only pray that it wouldn't do him permanent emotional damage. Despite his confident exterior, the Vulcan was more vulnerable than most (emotionally speaking) to the influence of others, especially influence of the malevolent kind, because of his all-too-tender heart and fragile ego structure.
It was six weeks before either Kirk or Christine dared to approach Spock again. Not even McCoy made the attempt, and by now (at least in ordinary situations), the Doctor would have tried to snap the Vulcan out of his "blue funk" by initiating one of their infamous verbal jousts.
But even McCoy sensed that this was no ordinary situation but rather, a serious problem, and cared too much to say something which might make Spock think he was trying to make light of his troubles. Spock had to tell someone, get it off his chest, but from what Jim had said, their Vulcan friend hadn't said word one about the Sapphiran incident. Not even to him—and that was saying something. If even Kirk couldn't get Spock to talk, what was it going to take?
The Vulcan was well aware of his friends' (and Christine's) concern for him, and knew he should—needed to—discuss the matter. With Kirk, preferably...but he had been unable to speak, even after six weeks. How could he ever explain, even to Jim, what he and Christine had shared on Sapphira VII—the physical and emotional closeness, much less what he had had to do in order to secure the mining rights?
Spock was also aware that his Human friend felt guilty about subjecting him to the hedonistic Sapphiran society, even if he himself had insisted on going in Jim's place, and that Jim's guilt had been compounded by his refusal to discuss the incident. But Spock's thoughts were so jumbled and confused that he had to make some sense of them, put them into some kind of understandable order before he could even begin to explain what had taken place.
He had not succeeded, even after six weeks—and what was worse, he had wanted Christine every moment of those six weeks. But the worst part was the knowledge that he didn't just want her temporarily, but permanently...as bondmate and wife. Spock wanted the touch of her mind, to feel her love for him again.
It was impossible, but the need remained—and grew. But nothing good could come from compounding his weakness and foolishness, so he forced himself to keep his distance from her.
Following the debacle on Vulcan, Spock had kept himself far away from romantic relationships, determined not to be hurt again. It had overwhelmed him when he had been thrust into the bizarre situation with Christine. Before Sapphira VII, there had never been more than an embrace between them, despite the fact that Spock had found himself more than halfway in love with her. He could not allow himself to think of what a fool he had been the night of the orgy, letting his emotions run away with him. If he did, he would go mad for sure.
Jim would have said that he was suffering the birth pangs of new-found love, but Spock had enough to contend with just dealing with the after-effects of Kolinahr, V'Ger and the Sapphiran mission, much less the knowledge that he was deeply, completely, and irrevocably in love—in love as he had never been before and never would be again. It had seemed easier to express those feelings on the planet than aboard ship. He had no idea why that was; nor did he care. What mattered was that he felt them, and most importantly, had found the woman to share the rest of his life with.
The buzzer brought the Vulcan back to reality. "Come," he said, not caring who it was, knowing only that he had no intention of being alone with his turmoil any longer. It had to come out, one way or another...and the sooner, the better.
"Spock?"Kirk's voice was quiet and hesitant, something it rarely was, considering their deep, brotherly affection for each other. The two held few secrets from each other except for those of the last six weeks—and however difficult it might be, Spock knew he had to explain what had happened.
"In here," Spock called back.
Kirk soon appeared in the doorway of the sleeping alcove. "May I come in?"
"Of course, Jim."
"Well, I had to ask," the Captain said with a relieved chuckle as he entered and stood next to Spock's bed. "We haven't talked in weeks...at least not as friends. I think I can guess why, too, so please forgive me for sending you down to Sapphira VII, and with Christine Chapel of all people. It must have been hard enough for you to handle without having to deal with her, too. You don't know how much I've kicked myself, the guilt I've felt at putting you through that ordeal. How can I possibly call myself your friend any more, much less expect you to consider me your friend?"
Spock's tone was reassuring as he sensed that Jim felt worse than he did. "Please do not browbeat yourself. Going there was my idea, not yours."
"How did you ever endure it? I know what it must have been like."
"Christine—Miss Chapel—did her best to see that I was not...harassed by any more of the women than necessary. I am—most grateful to her for that."
"So what really happened there? I've read each of your reports, but I'm sure there must be more to them than meets the eye."
Spock swallowed hard, knowing that what he had to say would be difficult, but it had to be said. "There was. You recall where I said that we were able to successfully obtain the mining rights? There was a story behind that."
"What kind of story?"
"A long, complicated, and sometimes unpleasant one," the Vulcan warned. "Are you certain you have time to listen?"
Kirk touched his friend's hand, smiling when Spock looked up...and the latter's fear melted away like an ice cube on a summer day. "I'll make time," the Captain declared. "You've carried it around for six weeks. Don't you think it's time you talked about it?"
Spock sighed. "Very well." With that, he began.
Neither had any idea how much time had passed by the time Spock finished—and when he did, he sat next to his Human friend, hands clasped in his lap and head bowed with his eyes closed, cheeks and ears suffused with green.
"Oh, my God. No wonder you didn't want to talk about it. If it had been me, I don't think I would, either." It was the first thing Kirk had said since sitting down next to his Vulcan friend some hours before.
"But that is not all," the Vulcan made himself say. "I have not...told you of how it is—or rather, was—between Christine...Miss Chapel...and myself while we were there."
"You mean there's more?"
Spock nodded, his color deepening.
"Oh, lord. I don't know how you ever stood it. It would be a lot for a Human to endure, much less someone like you."
Kirk fell silent after that, and Spock took the opportunity to speak again before he lost his nerve. He related how it had begun, what had happened their first night together (and the succeeding nights, particularly the seventh). Not to mention his reaction upon seeing Christine in the Sapphiran costume for the first time. Even at that, something told Kirk that more than the Vulcan's loss of control—that is, allowing his emotions free rein—was bothering his friend.
"Spock, are you telling me that you're...in love with Miss Chapel?"
A slight nod with deepening color.
"Does she know?"
A shake of the head this time.
"You've got to tell her, Spock."
A more emphatic shake of the head.
"I really think it's best. She has a right to know how you truly feel about what happened...and about her. It's got to be worked out—and the sooner you do it, the better."
By the look on his friend's face, Kirk could tell that Spock dreaded the idea, but gently insisted. "You've got to deal with it, how it's affected both of you, as early as possible. There's nothing to be gained by remaining silent. In fact, it's likely to make things worse."
The Vulcan's reply was barely audible. "How can I—possibly tell her? It has been...difficult enough telling you."
The Captain gave his friend a warm glance. "I know you must be concerned about rejection, Spock. Most men would be...but you've got to keep in mind that Christine loves you and has for a long time. I'm sure she'd be thrilled if you could tell her that you loved her, too. After all, it's what she's always wanted—and you could certainly do worse."
"Jim, please..." The Vulcan's voice was laced with pain. "At the moment, it is as much as I can endure, simply knowing that I—love her."
"It's just a suggestion, Spock. I'm not trying to force you into anything. It's your life, your decision...but she's got to know sooner or later, and it's best that it come from you instead of a stranger...or McCoy."
Spock sighed. "You are right, Jim, but it will not be easy. I would—appreciate any assistance you could give."
"That's what friends are for. Now, here's what I think you should do..."
Once that task had been accomplished, Kirk felt much more at ease—or at least enough so that he was able to express himself more readily. Up to this point, what had mattered most was that Spock got his problems off his chest. Now that things were more relaxed, and Kirk had been assured of the Vulcan's forgiveness and continued affection, words seemed to pour out of him. He seemed unable to stop for long...but Spock didn't seem to mind.
"I bet you're glad it's all behind you," the Captain opined. "I know I would be."
"I am," came the reply, but it really wasn't behind Spock yet. Not until he had come to terms with what he'd had to do with Sapphira, and the feelings brought out in him by sharing so much with Christine when he had been so unprepared.
"First off, I can imagine how it made you feel when Christine said that you could only...join with your own kind and Humans."
Kirk noticed that his friend had turned color at the mention of the incident, but was able to speak. "It was—embarrassing, but I...considered it far better than constant harassment."
Kirk smiled and nodded. "I can also imagine what it must have been like when the planetary leader said she wanted you—much less when you spent twelve hours with her. Not to mention her attempted assault on you in the kitchen while you were getting Christine something to eat."
The Vulcan was too embarrassed to speak.
"I'm also glad that you...found a friend while you were there, and that he made things easier for the both of you. Ironic that he was also the leader's personal slave."
This time, it was the Vulcan who allowed himself a smile and nod as Kirk spoke. "And I'm glad to hear that you managed to find a way around having to actually join with her. It's a cinch that I certainly couldn't have nerve-pinched her or planted suggestions of incredible sex in her mind."
Spock's color deepened once again. "Jim, it was not...something I—wanted to do, but I considered it a far more...logical alternative to an actual physical joining."
"I still wish you hadn't had to have gone through it at all."
The Vulcan reached to squeeze his friend's hand. "I know, but 'wishing' will serve no purpose now. It is done, and no amount of 'if onlys' will change what has happened."
Kirk returned the squeeze with another smile. "Oh, I think I can get used to it eventually. What concerns me is whether or not you can deal with it effectively. You've never had to handle anything quite like this before."
Spock bowed his head, unable to refute what the Captain had said...or speak at all for a time. Instead, he merely sat quietly while Kirk continued to talk.
"Even at that, I'm glad you didn't refuse to spend time with Sapphira, considering what happened to that other man who refused her. I pity him; he's never going to be the same again."
Spock raised his head and made himself speak, though he kept his hands in his lap. "Jim, what do you think we will have to do because of what she—tried to do to me, breaking one of her own laws in the process?"
Kirk frowned and shook his head. "I don't know
yet; we'll have to contact Starfleet and discuss alternatives with
them if we should hear of any more men being abused. Anyone who acts
like that hasn't the maturity or unselfishness to rule a planet or
other people effectively.
She's got to learn that things won't always
go her way, that people won't always do what she wants...and have
the right to live as they choose without being punished for it. And
if she ever expects to join the Federation, she's got to clean up
her act considerably. Otherwise, the Sapphiran culture will
degenerate into a dictatorship and that cannot be tolerated, now or
ever."
"But will we not be...violating the Prime Directive if we—attempt to change their way of life?" The Vulcan's voice was a mixture of concern and apprehension.
"Perhaps," Kirk admitted. "But better that than a selfish, sadistic leader who believes everyone exists merely to serve her every whim, even if she's wrong."
"But what if her...replacement is even worse?""A chance we'll have to take, although we'll do our utmost to see that it doesn't happen," came the grim reply. "If we don't do anything, things will only get worse. You know that as well as I do...and from personal experience. I'm also sure you don't want any more men to end up like the one you told me about."
The Vulcan sighed again. "You are correct, I'm afraid. In that case, it would seem that we have no choice but to risk violation of the Prime Directive if we are to help the Sapphirans. That is, provided we can come up with a course of action which is agreeable to Starfleet."
Kirk nodded stiffly. "Exactly."
six
But before they could help the Sapphirans, certain members of the Enterprise crew had to help themselves. So far, Spock had admitted only to Kirk that he needed help...and even that had taken him six weeks. Kirk would do his utmost to help his friend, but couldn't help wondering how Christine was dealing with the experiences on Sapphira VII. It must have been both a dream come true and nightmare for her, but as a man, Kirk had only a vague idea how it must be affecting her.
If anyone could help her, it would be Uhura. Usually only another woman could understand what and how a woman felt at times like this. As far as he knew, however, Christine had not discussed it with even her closest friend—and if Spock's difficulty was any barometer of hers, the Captain could well understand why Christine would have such a tough time dealing with it. But it had to be dealt with, faced, sooner or later.
Spock had realized this, but Kirk could only hope that Christine would soon...and unburden herself to her friend as Spock had to him. For their own sakes, as much as anything else, they had to talk with each other, get their feelings out into the open as soon as possible. Friends could only do so much. Where romance was concerned, it was the two parties involved who had to confess their feelings, open their hearts to each other. That was the only way things would ever be resolved.
Kirk could understand her reluctance. No one liked being (or feeling) vulnerable by opening their hearts and risking being hurt—but they could end up being hurt more if they didn't. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Spock and Christine, because of the difficult lives they had led, particularly in the last few years.
The Captain had to admire her professionalism, but it couldn't be any easier for her than it was for Spock. They had to talk soon. If would probably take Uhura lecturing Christine, as he had Spock, for the couple to muster up the courage to speak their minds (and hearts) to each other. For both their friends' sakes, Kirk hoped Uhura would do it soon.
Indeed she would, too...and a lot sooner than Christine would have liked—but however she felt, the dark woman knew that her friend needed to talk about what had happened on Sapphira VII, whether she wanted to or not. The female physician had gotten to be close-mouthed, even for her...almost Vulcan in her silent dignity—but it was a silence which was slowly destroying her. Uhura admired Christine for not speaking (most likely in deference to Spock), suffering in silence for his sake...but enough was enough.
Uhura decided to drop by Christine's quarters after having a meal and shower—and this time, wouldn't take "No" for an answer. Not even if she had to knock Chris down and sit on her. An hour later, she pressed the door buzzer at the other woman's quarters.
"Come in, Nyota," the Doctor's voice came back.
The Bantu stepped in, eyes wide with surprise, after the doors swished open to admit her. She looked around for her friend, spotting Christine in her bathroom. "How did you know it was me?"
"I've been expecting you for some time," was the reply. "I know I haven't been exactly forthcoming with what happened on Sapphira VII, but if you'd had to do and endure what I did, you wouldn't want to talk about it, either. In fact, I still don't know if I can—but do know that I have to try. It's either that or go crazy." Christine sighed as she stood at her bathroom sink and washed her face, then brushed her teeth. "Go sit on the bed, but call up some drinks and snacks first. This may take some time," she warned upon finishing her teeth.
Uhura did as told, and by the time Christine joined her, everything was set up for a long haul. Christine took a swig of Altair water for strength before she spoke. Upon doing that, she took a deep breath and began.
"I hardly know where to begin," she confessed. "My thoughts are so confused."
"Just start talking, and we'll go from there."
Christine sighed. "Okay, if you say so, but don't say I didn't warn you if what I say or how I say it sometimes seems to make no sense whatsoever."
"Chris, stop stalling and get on with it."
The Doctor gave her companion a hard look, but complied. "The Captain told us what to expect, so I figured I could handle it, but wasn't sure if Spock could. He just seemed to get paler with every passing moment, not saying a word until near the end of the meeting. Something also told me that the Captain felt guilty about sending Spock, despite the fact that Spock insisted on going to spare him the experience."
"What next?"Christine described the clothing she and Spock had
worn. "I swear, I felt almost naked! Even my underwear covers more
of me than that outfit did. As for Spock's
...suffice it to say
that my outfit was substantial compared to his. Both of us were so
embarrassed that we couldn't look each other in the eye for a long
time. A short time later, the planetary leader—well—took a liking
to Spock, asking numerous questions about him, so I knew I had to do
something quick, or else he'd never have any peace. But even that
didn't stop her...not for long."
Christine blushed, but forced herself to continue, revealing that she had been told by the planetary leader that in order to prove their sincerity, all newcomers were to be observed the first night. Spock had been aware that they had had to fake sex that first night; what he wasn't aware of was the fact that they had been observed.
Uhura's eyes widened. "Oh, dear God. Did Spock know?""Not about the observing—and he still doesn't. It was probably wrong not to tell him, but I saw no sense in distressing him."
"But what if he finds out...and what's more, that you knew about it and didn't tell him?"
"I prefer not to think about that," was the reply.
"You're going to have to face it eventually," Uhura pointed out. "And if I know Spock, he's going to be very upset."
"A chance I had to take," Christine declared. "Well, to get back to the subject. I told Spock how we had to act in order to fool the Sapphirans, and must admit that he—performed superlatively. Both then and the times in public when we had to play mistress and slave. He's a consummate actor." She then told Uhura about the orgy and Sapphira's attempted sexual assault of Spock. "That woman has claws and fangs. She's the kind who chews up a man and spits him out."
The tone of her friend's voice told Uhura that Christine had been angry as hell, if only for Spock's sake. After this, the Bantu mainly just listened, interrupting only occasionally with questions, as Christine went on to speak in painful detail of Sapphira's lust, the penalty for refusing her, and the situation's perpetual discomfort for Spock and herself. Finally, there was a silence thick enough to cut; Uhura concluded that Christine was "talked out" and couldn't have spoken another word on the subject, even to save her own life.
The dark woman had to agree that what Chris had said at the beginning was true: if their positions had been reversed, she wouldn't have wanted to discuss it, either. Uhura also sensed that Christine hadn't told her all the details, guessing that it was for Spock's sake. Still, her mind was full of questions.
"Have you discussed your feelings with Spock?" A shake of the head. "Do you intend to, as soon as you can?" A nod this time, accompanied by another blush. "I know it won't be easy, Chris, but one of you has got to make the first move...lay your cards on the table, so to speak. Your feelings for him haven't changed, have they?" Another hard look in Uhura's direction, along with a pronounced shake of the head. "What do you think his feelings are for you now?" A shrug and another shake of the head.
Uhura sighed and got up, turning toward the door. "If you need to talk further, give me a call, okay?" Christine smiled and nodded. "See you later, Chris. We'd better get to bed now. It's nearly 0300. Do try to talk to Spock as soon as you can. It'll be the best thing for both of you. You'll see."
The other woman frowned and shook her head, but her eyes told Uhura how pleased she had been to be able to get things off her chest. The women embraced, then Uhura left. By the time it was over, Christine felt as though the weight of the Galaxy had been lifted from her shoulders...but regardless of how long, complicated or unpleasant the story was, it had needed to be told.
Christine turned back to the remains of their snacking and cleaned it up, then went to bed—but sleep was a long time coming. The discussion with Nyota had brought back the memories of Spock and the closeness they had shared on Sapphira VII, both physical and emotional. Unfortunately, they had been unable to talk about it...at least so far. They would have to eventually, but knowing how taciturn Spock was, even at the best of times, she would probably be the one to make the first move.
The rest of her night was an amalgam of dreams, beginning with their first night on Sapphira VII. She had become accustomed to Spock's closeness and keenly felt the lack of it. Even at that, she knew she had to keep a respectful distance from him, at least for the time being.
He needed to be able to gather his thoughts and make some sense of what had happened between them without interference from her, however well-meaning. But it had been six weeks; surely he must have figured things out by now—or at least talked to the Captain about it, as she had to Nyota. She would need to play things by ear and approach him only if he seemed in the mood for conversation.
Christine could judge the Vulcan's feelings and emotions by his body language and mannerisms. She had been able to do that ever since falling in love with him and two weeks of close association had honed her skills to perfection. She would begin to watch tomorrow, and as soon as there was enough evidence (or what she deemed enough) to be sure of how he felt, she would go to him and they could take it from there.
Another week passed before that happened...and when it did, it was easier than both Spock and Christine had expected. Probably because some time had gone by and they had been able to talk to their friends about it, but now they had to talk to each other. It would still be difficult for Spock, but he knew he would have to find the strength from somewhere. Perhaps it would be easier if he kept reminding himself that Christine loved him.
Both had duty for the entire week. Before picking the best time to meet, they had checked with Kirk and McCoy to find out when they would each have an evening when they would be off-duty the next day, so they could be up late if necessary. They were just lucky that they had been able to be off on the same day. That didn't happen often, so Christine took that as a good omen. Depending on the outcome of their talk, they could simply go to bed and sleep, or if things turned romantic, go to one of their quarters and go from there.
They sat in the Officers' Mess hashing out the details of when, where, and how. Still uncomfortable in each other's presence (intensified by seven weeks of denial), it was easier for the couple when they weren't alone together. Heaven knew how it would be when they were, so it was hard to decide where would be best.
Either of their quarters was too risky, because matters could so easily get out of hand. The Officers' Lounge was too public, as was the Rec Room or Officers' Mess—at least at peak hours. Perhaps if they did it at ship's night, on a day that neither had duty the next day...that might work. In the end, they decided on two days from now at 2130 hours in the Officers' Lounge. They would be alone, and have access to food, drink and music should they desire it.
Christine had not expected to be called for landing party duty at Sapphira VII, especially not with Spock. She could only recall three times other than this that she had been called...such as the time on Exo III when they thought they'd found Roger and the time on the other Taurus II when she, Nyota and a contingent of female Enterprise officers had had to rescue the male officers after the women there had taken them prisoner and drained their strength, making them age prematurely.
Spock had called to her mentally, which was the only way she and Nyota had been able to find him. Only after threatening the other women were they able to find the others—then there was the time the Captain had had amnesia on the Indian planet. McCoy had called for her to assist him. Christine had envied Miramanee the chance to be with the man she loved, marry him and carry his child.
The Doctor couldn't help thinking how it might have been if she and Spock had been on the Indian planet instead—or of when Spock had taken Miramanee's head in his lap and spoken soothingly to her. Duty had been first and foremost at the time, but she could not (and would not) be stopped from wishful thinking...and Christine would soon get her wish, in a manner of speaking. It wouldn't be easy to be with him and not think of what they had shared, but she had to try. They had to talk; that was no time to let her libido get out of control.
The next two days seemed to drag. Christine was sure that the time would never arrive for her and Spock's talk about how the Sapphira VII incident had affected them. In fact, she had been sure he would call and cancel it—but to her surprise, relief and apprehension, he didn't. She wore her prettiest outfit, a silky, blue jumpsuit with lace sleeves and a scoop neck. Her hair was piled on top of her head; her jewelry was a gold-and-pearl headband and IDIC earrings. White slippers and her favorite perfume completed her ensemble.
The Doctor left her quarters at 2035; by 2055, she was approaching the Officers' Lounge. She called out upon stepping inside; Spock called to her from the port side of the spacious room. She smiled upon spotting him, heartbeat quickening in spite of her vow to control her reaction to the sight of him. He had called up dinners for them both: his own a vegetarian chef's salad and hers an Oriental meal, complete with egg drop soup and herbal tea. Her nose wrinkled in appreciation as she sat down.
"I thought it logical that we have some...nourishment as we talked, Christine. I have not eaten at all today."
She frowned at him in response to that, but smiled at the delicious taste of the food. "Spock, you should eat more, not less," she gently admonished.
One upswept brow rose. "Is that a medical order? I eat when I am hungry."
"But you should eat something even if you're not hungry. For someone of your height and life-style, you should weigh at least five kilos more."
"That sounds like a medical order," the Vulcan observed with a half-smile, taking a bite of the salad and washing it down with a swallow of Vulcan tulac, a drink similar to orange juice. "In that case, I will do my best to comply with your wishes." Mischief danced in his dark eyes, but his face didn't reflect it. "But I shall still give Dr. McCoy a 'run for his money'."
"Now, Spock, is that really necessary? He cares about you; that's one reason he's always after you. Believe me, I know. I work with him every day."
The First Officer was silent for a time, then said, "But he seems to expect it of me, and I have no wish to disappoint him."
"Could it also be that you enjoy jabbing at him as much as he does with you?"Again, one upswept eyebrow rose, then Spock admitted, "It is possible," after taking a few more bites of salad and swallows of tulac. "But there are times when I do not consciously intend to aggravate him, yet he acts as though I do."
Christine smiled. "He is very excitable, I admit, but the fact that he cares for his patients is part of what makes him such a good doctor."
Spock nodded with a half-smile. "I know, Christine. Do not worry. Now I would like to discuss what happened between us on Sapphira VII some weeks ago."
"Yes?" She raised her head from her food, and their eyes locked.
"There are...many things which need to be resolved between us." His voice was quiet—almost too quiet.
"Such as?" Christine had to strain to hear him.
"The...reason why I—seemed to...adapt so easily to the Sapphiran culture," he forced out.
Christine's eyes widened as she set her fork down. "When we last talked, you said that it had all been part of your duty to the Captain."
"That was true—at first."
She frowned. "At first?"Spock shifted uncomfortably. "It has been difficult to—sort things out. Only after...discussing it with the Captain—Jim—was I able to...make sense of it."
"Understandable. I did the same with Uhura." She reached to squeeze his hand reassuringly.
"Have your feelings changed?" Spock made himself ask.
Color came into the Vulcan's cheeks despite his best efforts and he took a swallow of tulac so he wouldn't have to look at her. It was enough that she was holding his hand. He was also sure that she could feel his heart-rate increase.
"Only grown deeper." Christine's eyes were soft, her smile tender. She wanted to ask Spock if he had come to love her, but sensed that this whole conversation—not just the confession of his feelings—was going to be difficult for him.
"As have mine."
Again, he spoke so quietly that she barely heard him. Spock tightened his grip on her hand; she felt it and looked up at him, eyes wide and full of inquiry. He lowered his head, certain that his cheeks were on fire, they felt so hot...but her reaction canceled out his embarrassment.
"Spock, how long I've waited to hear you say that." Her heart felt so full that she was sure it would burst. He loved her!"I am not finished," he insisted. "Please hear me out."
His distress was obvious, and Christine was effectively silenced. Their food was forgotten by this time, growing cold and then congealing as the two began to assuage the hunger in their hearts. The only things finished were the drinks, but they were pushed aside after that—along with the plates—as the couple held hands across the table.
"You are...lovely tonight," he told her softly. "Every bit as—lovely as when I first saw you in the Sapphiran costume."
Christine seemed stunned. "When was this?""The second day of the mission. I had just showered and was coming out of the bathroom. You had dressed and were standing in front of the full-length mirror on the bedroom wall."
"But you never said..." Her voice trailed off. "I had no idea—""I assumed you were aware of my...feelings." He lifted her hands to his lips. "You usually are."
Something else which had nagged at the back of Christine's mind suddenly came to her lips and she blurted it out before she could stop herself. "Spock, on the seventh day—did what I did...please you?"
He smiled one of his rare smiles. "Immensely."
Spock was less embarrassed at that confession than he had thought he would be, though still green in the face because of the intimate subject they were discussing. The warmth of his gaze upon her said all that his lips could not. This time Christine raised his hands to her lips, then released one and reached to stroke his lips with a finger.
"You have made me the happiest woman in the universe, beloved..." Her voice trailed off as Spock's eyes met hers.
The Vulcan reached his free hand to stroke her lips with a finger. "Christine?"
"What?"
"Would you care to—share the viewport with me?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
He stood up and held out his hand to her. She took it, pulling herself up by it. After disposing of the remains of the meal, the couple made their way over to the viewport across the room. They stood there looking out at space going by, his arm around her waist and her head on his shoulder.
One of her hands rested over his, their fingers entwining. Not long afterward, she felt his lips brush her left ear. Some time passed as they stood together, not speaking. The perfection of the feelings they shared and the warm closeness of the other did not need to be improved upon, but somehow Spock did exactly that...at least as far as Christine was concerned.
"Christine?" His arm tightened around her.
"Mmm?" Her grip on his hand followed suit.
"It would—please me if you would do me the...honor of—becoming my wife."
"Spock, are you proposing to me?" Her voice was a mixture of happiness and incredulity.
"I believe that is what I said. Now what is your answer?"
"Yes, beloved. A thousand times, yes!" she declared, once his sincerity sunk in.
"Once will be sufficient." Spock sounded as he always had, except that this time, there was an undercurrent of deep feeling. "We will make the necessary arrangements with the Captain at the earliest opportunity. In the meantime, we shall continue to act professionally, except when we are alone." He released Christine, then they faced each other as he raised a hand to her face, but simply touched her cheek and looked deeply into her eyes.
"When...did you want us to bond?"
"Shortly before we speak with the Captain. For the moment, I only desire one thing."
"And what do you desire?"
"To be alone with you."
With that, he raised her chin and bent his head. Their lips touched, parted, then touched again, warmed and clung as the kiss deepened and the two made up (and not only for the last seven weeks) with a vengeance. Upon releasing her, the Vulcan literally swept his intended off her feet and into his arms as though she weighed nothing.
Her arms locked around his neck as they headed for the door of the Officers' Lounge. They managed to reach the turbo-lift down at the end of the corridor without running into anyone by taking a lesser-known shortcut. She asked to whose quarters they were going.
"Mine," he said. "Is that acceptable?""Anywhere is acceptable, as long as you're there."
When they reached his quarters, Spock told his companion his door code and she recited it. The doors swished open and they stepped inside, the door locking behind them at his command. Spock didn't lock his door unless he wanted privacy—and at this point, he definitely did. Christine asked if there was any special way they were supposed to dress for the official bonding; Spock shook his head.
"Privacy and a receptive mind are all that is necessary."
They sat down on his bed after he set her on her feet and he raised a hand to the meld points on her face, concentrating intensely. He entered her mind slowly, carefully, only gradually lowering his shields...and then she embraced his consciousness with warmth and love, both surprised and pleased upon feeling the same in return—though it was tempered with caution and even some fear.
Spock, beloved, there is nothing to be afraid of. I would rather hurt myself than you, she thought to him, so tenderly that it brought unbidden tears to his eyes. And I will do all in my power to make you happy.
Christine, what did I do to deserve you?
You were you, the person you are. That's what I fell in love with—and what I'll always love.
Even after the way I have treated you?As I said, you were being you, trying to be as Vulcan as possible. It hurt, but I understood that. You are not—never could be—a cruel person.
But it could not have been easy for you.
I knew it wasn't a personal slight, and that helped. Now, can we get on with the bonding?Yes, of course. I...simply needed to know your views on our situation. His mind-voice was faintly apologetic, but in the next moment, he got down to the business at hand.
Never and always, touching and touched. From this day forward, our minds and hearts—our very lives—will be as one. I will cherish thee, Christine, my chosen wife and bondmate, as well as any children we may have, with every beat of my heart, for now and as long as we both shall live.
As I will cherish thee, Spock, my chosen husband and bondmate, as well as any children we may have, with every beat of my heart, for now and as long as we both shall live.
He brought them out of the meld which established the bond as carefully and gradually as he had entered it, lowering his hand to clasp one of hers, and his soft eyes glowed as they looked deeply into hers.
"Spock, that was incredible," Christine said once she found her voice again.
"Bonding is both mental and physical," he told her. "That is the main reason Vulcan marriages are so solid and long-lasting."
"Just as ours will be," she declared. "Especially if I have any say in the matter."
"It will be," he assured her. "Because I have a say in the matter."
It was then that their eyes met and they fell silent, the look they exchanged saying without words what else they both wanted. The kisses resumed, and she felt his fingers take her hair down. The pins and headband dropped noiselessly to the carpeted floor. He stroked the back of her neck, making her tremble even as his lips found her throat. A short time later, she held his head close to her, stroking his silky hair. She felt him smile, but stopped him before anything else happened.
"Spock, I can't let you have all the fun. You must let me have some, too."
"Is that an order?" the Vulcan wondered upon lifting his head to meet her eyes.
"No. It is a request." She kissed his nose; Spock trembled and squirmed at his companion's touch. "Sorry, love."
"Do not...apologize. Your actions are most—pleasant."
"Then you want me to continue?" He was unable to speak; he could only nod. "As you wish."
After a time, he maneuvered her down beside him on the bed and held her. "Christine, you are an artist." He gave her a smile which she had never thought to see from him.
"If I am, it is because of you." She cradled her head on his shoulder and he stroked her hair.
"Then by all means, demonstrate what you have learned from me." He drew her closer and kissed her deeply.
"I love you," she purred against his lips before proceeding to fulfill his request.