thirteen
After an uneventful shift the following day, Kirk and Spock went to the Officers' Lounge for what was ostensibly lunch, but at which only Kirk ate. Whenever possible, Spock preferred to wait until Christine was off-duty and eat with her. They had just started a new shift rotation, which meant that he and Kirk got off Alpha shift at 1600, just as Christine went on Beta. She wouldn't get off until 2400.
The Vulcan hadn't eaten since the previous evening, and knew that if his wife learned of this, she would give him one of her standard lectures, which Spock knew he usually deserved ...and she would find out. No matter how he tried to hide it, she always seemed to know. It was to his own detriment to go without food too long, even if Vulcans could technically fast far longer than Humans.
His Human half prompted him to eat more often than most Vulcans, but he still didn't eat nearly enough, in Christine's estimation--and even though he didn't want to admit it, she was right. One of her duties as Head Nurse had been supervising the diets of the senior officers, and although the current Head Nurse, Liz Rogers, now did the rest, Christine had kept up her personal supervision of Spock's diet.
He was eating better than he had before their marriage, but could still stand to gain at least five more kilos (roughly ten pounds), which would put him in the normal weight range for a Vulcan his age and height. His mother had always fussed over his not eating enough, too, but not even she had been able to influence him as Christine had. Kirk's voice brought him back to reality.
"Earth to Spock...Spock, are you there?"
The First Officer looked up apologetically. "I am sorry, Jim. I was preoccupied."
Kirk smiled. "Quite understandable. Now, don't you think you'd better eat? You haven't since yesterday at dinner, and you know how upset Christine gets if she finds out--and she usually does."
"I know."
Part of Spock was embarrassed, another was pleased that she cared so much about his health...not simply because he was a member of the command crew, but because he was her husband.
"But I would still prefer to wait and eat with her."
"I'm sure she wouldn't begrudge you eating without her. You could still eat something with her, and then tell her how you ate lunch at such and such a time while she was on duty. That would really please her, and I know you do like to please her--especially since you've been married."
Spock gave his friend a half-smile. Even as well as they knew each other, Jim could still surprise him on occasion.
"Very well, Jim. I will have some pasta primavera salad. Excuse me." The Vulcan got up and went to call up the food and a cup of herbal tea on the food processor, returning with the salad and the tea to rejoin Kirk.
"Now, you said you'd heard from your parents?" the Captain prompted as soon as Spock sat down again.
The Vulcan inclined his head. "My father managed to talk T'Pau into officiating at a Vulcan wedding for Christine and myself. However, nothing he said could move her regarding having more than two Humans there--Christine and yourself. It was impossible to convince her to allow the Doctor, Mother or Miss Uhura there. I am sorry."
"It's not your fault, Spock. I'm sure Bones and Uhura will understand, just as your mother does. I'm thankful that you'll be able to have the Vulcan wedding as you wanted, and that I can be there. That's what matters. Your father is an extraordinary diplomat."
"But I wanted to have the Doctor there, as well as Mother and Miss Uhura, if only for Christine's sake." The Vulcan's voice was laced with equal parts regret and anger.
"I know, and I'm sure they'll be pleased to know you feel that way. When did you plan to have the ceremony?"
"Mother suggests we have it as soon as possible after we arrive at Vulcan, because even my father can only convince T'Pau to wait so long. She is reluctant as it is."
Kirk nodded. "I kind of expected that. Now all we can do is hope we don't get orders from Fleet Command to go elsewhere...like Sapphira VII."
Spock gave his friend a half-smile. "Most assuredly."
There was a moment of silence, then the Captain spoke again. "Of course, I could always disregard the orders to go to Sapphira VII, should they come in."
"I would not recommend it," Spock cautioned. "We were simply--fortunate...that you did not get into considerable difficulty because of what you did to accommodate me during my first pon farr. It is inadvisable for you to attempt a similar course of action in this instance."
That's putting it mildly, as usual, Kirk thought with an inward chuckle. "If I hadn't, you wouldn't be here now," the Captain reminded him.
"It was still unwise," came the answer.
"But I'm not sorry I did it. End of discussion."
Spock sighed and took a drink of his herbal tea, ignoring Kirk's last statement long enough to get in one last word. "As you wish. I simply have no wish to see you put through unnecessary difficulty. I--appreciate what you did for me, but you might not be so...lucky a second time."
The Vulcan's tone was equal parts gratitude, concern and disapproval, but Kirk had expected the latter emotion, so he quietly disregarded it while being pleased at the former two.
"Did your mother say anything else?"
"Only that she wished to co-host a "wedding reception" with you after the Vulcan wedding. She suggested that all of you bring your gifts so as to give them to us all at once. Would you mind that, or would you prefer to have it aboard ship?"
"No, what you said is fine. I'd be delighted to co-host the reception with her. Now all we have to do is wrap our gifts. Bones and Uhura said they'd gotten their gifts yesterday, as soon as they were off-shift, and so did I. Of course, it helped to get off-duty earlier."
Spock nodded with a half-smile before taking another swig of herbal tea. "Would we forego the trip to Vulcan if you receive an order to go to Sapphira VII again?"
"Not if I can help it," Kirk declared.
"And if it is unavoidable?" the Vulcan retorted.
"Then I'll deal with it when the time comes," was the reply. "In the meantime, we'll head for Vulcan at maximum warp. All you need concern yourself with is getting properly married. Let me worry about Starfleet orders."
The Vulcan took another swallow of tea. "If that is what you wish."
"It is. Now let's stop arguing so I can finish my lunch. I don't like trying to eat it after it gets cold."
However curt Kirk may have seemed, Spock knew his Captain and friend well enough to know that it wasn't directed at him; Jim was simply preoccupied. That happened often when one was a starship Captain, having several things on his mind at once. It was for that reason that the First Officer did not point out that their "argument" had concluded earlier, but instead clamped his mouth shut and finished his tea shortly after consuming the pasta salad.
Setara was right--at least in part. It turned out that Sapphira had suspected Pietro and Sareenah of having an affair all along, and eventually had the lovers followed, captured and made examples of...but they were not taken without a struggle. After being stripped and beaten, the luckless pair were placed in solitary cells.
The jailers in the men's and women's prisons had been given strict orders not to feed, clothe or allow the prisoners to bathe until and unless they renounced each other--something which both Pietro and Sareenah vowed that they would never do, even if it meant spending the rest of their lives in prison.
Once Setara learned this, she knew the time had come for her and the CRSD to act if her friend and the latter's paramour were to live. The kind of abuse that Sapphira and her henchmen dished out was such that prisoners rarely lasted more than a month or two. If they didn't go mad from loneliness or sensory deprivation, starvation or cold-related illnesses and infection from untreated wounds claimed them. However it happened, their end would be slow and painful.
Due to his size and weight, Pietro might last longer, but Sareenah only weighed a fraction over one hundred pounds. It wouldn't take long for her to starve to death, for there was no amount of weight she could afford to lose without it affecting her health to some degree. She also took cold easily and was a very fastidious person, rarely going more than a day without bathing or changing clothes.
Once Setara's CRSD colleagues found out about Sapphira's latest atrocity, she was sure they would agree that their selfish, sadistic leader had to go, even if it was the last thing any of them ever did. In the meantime, she had to get that same head of state off her back so she could make the meeting.
Sapphira demanded to know why Setara couldn't stay; it took all her diplomatic skills to put her off. Even then, Setara was certain that she was now under suspicion and was uneasy as she made her way to the CRSD's secret meeting place, praying that she was not being followed. She had covered her tracks very well so far (or so she believed), but now had to be very careful lest her secret activities be discovered and punishment meted out accordingly.
She breathed a deep sigh of relief as she slipped behind a cleverly concealed curtain, which turn concealed a roomful of people, both men and women, roughly two dozen in number--the top members of the CRSD. The furnishings were simple: a large, circular table with chairs around it, along with a kaffa (coffee) and soft drink machine about six feet away.
On the wall facing the table was a large Sapphiran flag, a deep blue with gold doves of peace scattered over it, olive branches in their beaks. There was also a large oil painting of Seleenah, the former Sapphiran leader, beside the flag. It was the Vice President, an older woman named Savanna, who had worked under Seleenah, Sapphira's mother--one of only a handful of former legislators left in the First Province--who then approached Setara and spoke to her. Savanna's assistant, Alexei, a Sapphiran male of Russian descent, stood next to Savanna.
"I'm sure you've heard what happened," the older woman remarked, barely concealed anger in her voice. Her ice-blue eyes blazed in her care-worn face. "I tell you, Setara, this madness cannot continue! Sapphira is a dangerous psychopath and must be stopped before she ends up killing us all!"
Setara nodded in agreement and spoke quietly. "I agree, Savanna, and she will be stopped--but we must go about it properly. Otherwise, we could end up as Pietro and Sareenah have."
"Setara, how in the twin moons could you have allowed Pietro and Sareenah to even attempt to carry out such a mad scheme?" Alexei almost spat out his words, his anger as great as Savanna's. Unlike their outside lives, he and the other men mentioned were equal to women in their secret society and therefore could hold high positions in the organization.
Setara's sigh was half-sad, half-exasperated. "I tried to stop them, Alexei. I couldn't. You know how stubborn Sareenah is once she's made up her mind."
Alexei smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I'm just so worried about them."
"That goes for all of us," a new voice put in, which Setara recognized as Selanyah, the CRSD's treasurer. "We've got to do something...and fast. They're not going to last long in prison, not with the kind of abuse Sapphira practices."
"I know," Setara acknowledged. "In fact, I was even thinking--"
She had been about to tell her colleagues that she was seriously considering contacting the Federation when she was interrupted by Selanyah's assistant, Willem, a Sapphiran of Canadian descent...and Sareenah's older brother.
"Is there any way we could contact the Federation again? I'm sure they could help us."
A deadpan voice replied, "Oh, they could; there's no doubt of that, particularly since they were able to get off this nightmare planet in one piece." Senorrah, the CRSD's co-chairman, along with Setara (and about two years older), was the speaker. "But the question is, would they? Remember what the Vulcan, Spock, told us about their General Order One, what he referred to as the Prime Directive, which prohibits them from interfering in the normal social development of any individual planet."
"You call what Sapphira's done 'normal'?" Carl'lo, Senorrah's consort, snapped. Another hybrid of Italian descent like Pietro (though not half-Argelian, but Alpha Centauran), the tall, portly yet handsome man continued, his heavily accented voice crackling with anger. "Good gods, it's only one step away from a dictatorship! They wouldn't be interfering in our society, but instead, saving us from genocide!"
"Carl'lo's right," Willem declared. "If nothing is done, it's only a matter of time until Sapphira finds out about us and we join Sareenah and Pietro. In their absence, you're the senior club official, Setara. You've got to contact the Federation, see if they'll help us. Even if they refuse, at least we'll know we tried. We can't just knuckle under any more."
Willem's head lifted, his love and concern for his sister obvious; his leading eyes met Setara's. The entreaty she saw there erased any doubts she may have had as to their chances for success in contacting the Federation and convincing them to help them depose Sapphira. Their goal of returning Sapphira VII to the democracy and virtual paradise it had once been before Sapphira came to power would be well on the way to being achieved.
Setara looked around at the other faces, into the eyes of her other comrades, all of whom seemed to share her and Willem's feelings. "All right, I'll do what I can--but don't count on anything until and unless they actually agree to send help."
As Setara turned to go, everyone wished her luck and warned her to be careful. She slipped out of the concealed room and stealthily approached the garage where her car was parked, checking periodically to assure herself that she wasn't being tailed. Upon reaching her mid-20th-century model car, she forced herself to act casually, making sure not to do anything to draw attention to herself. After a forty-five-minute drive, she parked, got out and made her way to the building...deserted because it was a weekend.
She was thankful that there was no one to ask her questions she couldn't answer as she got out her key and let herself in, going up to the fourth floor where her station and the long-range communications equipment were, adjusting the signal to maximum before sending out the following distress call:
This is planet Sapphira VII calling any Federation ship within range. This is an urgent request help. Repeat, urgent! We ask you to contact the nearest Starfleet base and send help. Please hurry. It's a matter of life and death.
Setara repeated herself a dozen times, but received no answer for such a long time that she was ready to give up before one came. Upon hearing the welcome voice, Setara's eyes filled with tears of relief.
"This is Captain Marvin Rosenberg of the Federation starship Exeter. What is your problem, Sapphira VII?" The voice was kind, if somewhat skeptical--skepticism which disappeared once Setara explained the situation. "We'll see what we can do. In the meantime, stay on this frequency so we do not lose contact. I cannot guarantee we'll be able to help you, but I will contact my superiors and tell them what's happened on your planet."
"We would appreciate anything you could do...and don't worry. I'm not going anywhere," Setara assured him.
"Good. Please stand by. I'll get back to you as soon as I receive an answer. Rosenberg out."
Setara removed her earphones and looped them around her neck, yawning and stretching to get the kinks out of her back. She went to the nearby kaffa machine and poured the first of what would turn out to be six cups, taking a long, satisfying swig of the hot beverage--the Sapphiran equivalent of coffee--before putting it down and settling herself back into the chair. She had made contact; now all she could do was wait for Captain Rosenberg to call back.
Setara did her best to remain optimistic, but as the hours passed, she found it increasingly difficult. She also found herself hoping that in the event the Federation chose to help them, that the Enterprise would be the one sent to help them. She had been told all about the Vulcan First Officer and the Human female Assistant Chief Medical Officer from Pietro, and prayed she would be able to meet them, see if they were anything like what he made them out to be. Of course, any help would be welcome, but it made the most sense to send someone already familiar with them and their culture. In the meantime, all she could do was hope for the best--and that she wouldn't be tracked down and captured before help could arrive.
When Christine told them about Amanda's stargram, McCoy and Uhura reacted much as Kirk had, vowing to work with them to make the reception a memorable one. After all, Spock didn't get married every day. Nor were they always able to get to Vulcan for a visit with his parents--two of the relatively small number of people on the planet who even tolerated Humans, much less welcomed them...and that was mainly because one of them was Human. Meanwhile, all that needed to be done was wrap the wedding presents, prepare for the reception, then the communication and gift from Christine's parents.
Three days later, a mail freighter managed to catch up with the Enterprise--after the latter had slowed down to match the freighter's speed of warp two. It took a total of ten minutes between the time of initial contact and the freighter's departure. About halfway through that time, Christine was called to the mailroom to pick up a package from her parents. On this particular day, Spock was on the Gamma shift and would get off at 0800. Christine didn't go on duty until that afternoon. She called her husband as soon as she arrived back at their quarters.
"Spock here," the Vulcan answered. "What do you wish, Christine?"
"The package from my parents is here. Can you get away?"
"I have 27.6 minutes before I am off-shift," he told her. "I will return to you then."
"Can't you come a little earlier, Spock? I don't know if I can wait that long."
"It is not a life-and-death matter, my wife." His voice was tender but firm. "It can wait until I am off-duty."
Christine sighed, but knew from the tone of his voice that nothing she could say was going to change her husband's mind. His love for her was strong, but his sense of duty was stronger. She was disappointed but professional enough to understand.
"I'll see you when you're off-shift, then." She fought to keep disappointment out of her voice, but Spock heard it anyway.
"Be strong, m'chejan. I will be there shortly. Spock out." With that, the line went dead.
Christine sat down at the desk she shared with him in the work area of their quarters, the package sitting before her. She finally decided to take a shower in order to pass some time and cool off--in more ways than one. After putting on a lacy, sky-blue nightgown, she put on a pretty dressing-gown of quilted dark blue silk, then reseated herself at the desk, laying her head down on the package.
The next thing she knew was Spock's touch on her shoulder, gently shaking it to awaken her. "Christine, my wife, wake up."
Her head lifted, and her sleepy eyes afforded her a fuzzy vision of her husband's face. "Spock...? What...?"
"You fell asleep," he said. "At first I felt your disappointment at my refusal, then you seemed to calm down--and fell asleep approximately 15.3 minutes ago."
"Probably because I took a shower, then sat back down here, resting my cheek on the package from my parents. It must have relaxed me enough to fall asleep."
"Have you looked in the package yet?" he asked when he crossed fingers with her as she lifted her right hand.
Christine shook her head and lowered her hand. "No. I was waiting for you. I didn't want to open it unless you were here. That's why I called you."
"I could not dismiss my duties, my wife," he gently but firmly reminded her. "I am here now, so we can open the package and see what your parents have sent us." When she made no move to open it, he asked, "Do you need help?"
"No, I'll do it."
A short time later, a gaily wrapped present came into view, the shiny, blue paper with white wedding bells and ribbons catching the light. The tag read:
To our darling daughter, Christine, and her new husband...
May you and Spock have the best of everything throughout your life together.
All our love, your proud parents,
Christopher and Ann Chapel
She sat with the gift in her hands for some minutes until her husband's voice brought her back to reality.
"Are you not going to open it?"
"I was thinking we should wait until we reach Vulcan. If we open it now, the surprise would be spoiled."
"Could it not be re-wrapped?"
His suggestion took her by surprise, prompting her to raise both eyebrows as her eyes widened.
"I suppose we could. I'd just have to be careful in unwrapping."
And she was. It was as though she were handling a porcelain egg, one of the most fragile things in existence. The paper and ribbon were virtually intact. The box's top was taped down, and that was carefully slit. The tape would need to be replaced, but that was it. The box was opened, and among the layers of tissue paper and bubble wrap was a painting of a man and woman holding each other and seeming to look deeply into each other's eyes, tender smiles frozen on their lips.
The bronze plaque on it was entitled Lovers by Heather Patricia Lawrence, a descendant of the early 20th-century author D.H. Lawrence. The renderings of the couple were so life-like that Spock and Christine almost expected them to speak. The only things they had seen which had been this detailed had been sophisticated holograms. This was art of the highest quality--truly a masterpiece. But it must have cost a fortune!
"It's beautiful, Spock," Christine commented after several moments of awestruck silence.
"Indeed, my wife," he agreed. "But it must have been very expensive. I have seen paintings similar to it, the cost of which started at five hundred credits."
"But, Spock, my parents aren't rich. How could they spend so much on us?"
"You are their only child, as I am the only child of my parents, are you not?"
Christine looked up at her husband, once again wide-eyed. "Yes. Why?"
"There is your answer," he told her. "They wanted their only child to have the nicest wedding gift they could afford."
"But five hundred credits is normally a week's salary for my father. They're retired now, on a fixed income."
"Perhaps they took out a loan or borrowed from a friend of theirs," he suggested. "Those are just two possibilities. To find out for sure, you would have to ask your mother. Meanwhile, you had best re-wrap the painting...then we shall go to dinner after I shower and change."
He surprised her by lifting her chin and giving her a kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. Christine was too surprised and pleased to object. After carefully re-wrapping her parents' gift, she placed it in the package again. Having already showered, she made a quick change into a white linen, knee-length dress with short, lacy sleeves and sweetheart neckline. White flats completed the ensemble. She combed, then braided and pinned her hair into a chignon. IDIC earrings were her only jewelry other than her wedding ring.
Spock smiled appreciatively at his wife's beauty and the rose-t'lerya perfume when he came out. He was dressed in a black, thigh-length tunic with full sleeves and Vulcan symbols of white. The pants matched the tunic, as did the knee-high boots; the long-sleeved turtleneck undershirt was silver-grey.
"You look most -- attractive, my wife." There was warmth in the Vulcan's dark eyes as he approached her, right hand lifted to cross fingers with her agian.
"Thank you, my love. Ready to go?"
"If you are," was the reply.
With that, the couple walked out the door. It swished closed behind them after Christine had grabbed her white shawl and evening purse off the nearby end table. The next couple of hours passed pleasantly, with the two talking and eating with their friends. After that, the couple returned to their quarters. Christine changed back into her nightgown, combing her shoulder-length hair until it was a soft, silken mass falling over her shoulders.
Spock wrote the stargram to his parents as she did so, not readying himself for bed until after he had finished it. She got into bed and waited for him. He usually wore his undergarments to bed because the temperature in their quarters was kept in the seventies to accommodate Christine. The only light was the flame-pot as he joined her in their bed after transmitting the stargram to his parents' computer and disrobing.
He took his wife into his arms and nuzzled his face into her fragrant hair before turning her head to face him and kiss her goodnight...but that was only the beginning. A short time later, their kisses and touches became intimate. Soon something primitive, yet tenderly passionate, transpired in the warm darkness of the honeymoon suite. (The couple had still only been married a total of two weeks.)
Now there were only two days until they reached Vulcan, where they would marry again and have the wedding reception after that. Christine's last thought before she and her husband fell asleep was how interesting it would be to note the reaction of Sarek and Spock to their Human wives' customs. She could hardly wait to see the looks on their faces when they first experienced a Terran wedding reception.
It was also easy to imagine what each would say about it once alone with their spouses. Until then, however, she simply intended to savor the warmth of her husband's closeness and the feel of his arms gently but securely around her. Only reluctantly did she get up to go on duty, quietly dressing before carefully kissing her sleeping spouse so as not to wake him, before slipping out.