A/N: A big thank you to mrstater for her beta-work and suggestions. She's been a tremendous help. In my research and in listening to the audiobook, I have not run across any rules regarding Orion aliens or their surnames. Thus, I have given Gaila the surname A'baa'ntan. If anyone knows of other resources for alien names in the Star Trek universe, I'd love links to them.
Just in case anyone was wondering, if the internet has not failed me, I believe Kobayashi Maru translates into "little wooden ship".
Part Four: The Most Illogical Conclusions
A shrill whistle cuts through the air.
Nyota refuses to stop walking, as she is intent on ignoring the whistler. The pest. The bane of her existence. She rues the day she first met him, more than two years ago.
"Hey! Cadet Unicorn."
James T. Kirk. Resident asshole.
He now calls her a variety of different names, since she refuses to tell him hers. And, of course, he only chooses the most vexing ones. Animals and popular cultural figures from the past are his favorites to use. The month he had insisted on calling her Cadet Strawberry Shortcake tested her patience in many ways.
Many ways.
It also made her realize to not underestimate the idiot — he knows how to make connections at the Academy. How else could anyone explain the message unit in her apartment when it spoke out loud, "You have reached Cadet Strawberry Shortcake..."? It did not matter what computer expert (and highly amused) Gaila did to try to override the recording; somehow, Jim Kirk's resources circumvented all of her efforts.
The sound of him trying to catch up only makes Nyota walk faster.
"Jeeze… slow down!"
"Don't call me Unicorn!" She continues walking without missing a beat.
"Tell me your first name, and I promise I'll quit making up new ones."
She snorts and glares at him; Kirk takes the opportunity to wink at her.
"What do you want, Kirk? I've got places to be and—"
"Hot command-track cadets to do?"
"I'm not dignifying that with a response." She keeps her tone brusque, even as she tries to stifle a grin. How someone can be infuriating and amusing at the same time Nyota does not know. "Make it quick."
"Man, you are nothing but business, aren't you, Unicorn?"
She stops and pivots sharply, nearly jabbing his eye out with an angry finger. "Say that name one more time, and I'll show you what I've been working on in combat training! Namely sensitive areas on male bodies." Her eyes glare menacingly at his crotch, and then back up at his face.
He throws his hands up in the air, his left still holding a slim PADD. "Okay! Uncle, uncle!" he exclaims, smirking. "I just wanted to ask a favor of one of the best and brightest cadets the Academy has to offer."
She retracts her hand, and looks at him, slightly mollified. "Well, I appreciate the recognition. That I am one of the best cadets here."
Jim holds his hand out toward a shady spot underneath a tree. "After you, Uhura."
She rolls her eyes, but makes for the shade. "Hm… you are desperate to ask me for help, or you wouldn't be using my real name." She stands still in the middle of the cool spot and crosses her arms. "Alright, now that you've got my attention, speak."
Jim regards her for a couple of seconds; she knows he's quite tempted to say something sarcastic or smarmy. But he also knows when to rein it in.
Sometimes.
"You ever heard of the Kobayashi Maru?"
"Of course I have. It's Starfleet's hardest simulation. And I constantly thank the powers that be that I don't have to take it since I'm not command-track." This is honest; Nyota hates losing, and the Kobayashi Maru is renowned as an unbeatable program. She is glad she does not have to be put in that position.
"Well, I am command-track, and I'm scheduled to take it next week. I have to get my crew together, so…"
Nyota groans. "Oh God! Are you asking me to help you save the little wooden ship?"
"As a matter of fact, I am. This is part of the test; I have to assemble my crew. I've already got my Number One, but I need a communications officer. I need the best communications officer, the cream of the crop. And that means you, Tinkerbell."
This is the part of Jim Kirk that makes her head want to explode. He can simultaneously compliment her to the highest heavens and find the perfect way to get under her skin.
Not in a good way, either.
She blinks rapidly. Her nostrils flare. She wills herself not to react, since that will only make it worse. Instead, she focuses on his compliment of her skills. Nyota realizes that she probably appears arrogant and smug but she can't help it; cocky bastards like Kirk bring it out in her. "And your first officer is—?"
As if on cue, a man, slightly older than both cadets, approaches them at a brisk pace, practically jogging toward them. He is out of breath and grunting.
"Goddamn rookies can't even tell which end of a damn cadaver's the ass or the head! I'll tell the both of ya right now: don't expect to make it out of your ships alive with the quality of brainpower coming out of Starfleet's Anatomy and Pathology program. Oh, how're you doin', Cadet Uhura?"
She laughs at Leonard McCoy's bluster. "I'm fine. Absolutely fine."
It would not be McCoy without a good dose of gruffness and swearing. She also likes the fact that he subtly winks at her when he calls her "Cadet Uhura." McCoy knows perfectly well that her first name is Nyota. She introduced herself to him as such the first time they met.
When she made it clear that Jim Kirk was never to know her first name, he obliged whole-heartedly. "I like havin' something over the kid!" he had said, thumbing in Kirk's direction.
Now, Jim Kirk smacks McCoy on the back and nods at Nyota. "You're looking at my hand-picked science officer, right here."
McCoy simply stares back at his friend. "What the hell're you talkin' about?"
"The Kobayashi Maru, Bones. You're going to be my Number One. Oh, and my science officer."
Leonard groans. "Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor, not a first officer! And I'm certainly not some damn bridgeman. I'd bungle up your whole exam!"
"You don't give yourself enough credit for everything you've got up here," Jim says, poking at McCoy's head. The older man tries to swat him away. "I need you, Bones. I need you right by my side."
Nyota can see McCoy's resolve soften; she knows he thinks the world of James Kirk, that he thinks of the younger man like a brother. Hearing that he needs McCoy to help him through this daunting simulation is all the reason the doctor needs to act as Kirk's Number One, to help Jim with whatever he will need.
It is certainly touching and it allows Nyota to see something in Jim Kirk that she never considered before. Loyalty. Unwavering loyalty and devotion to his friends.
"Yeah, yeah… I'll do it if you stop pesterin' me." McCoy grunts, but he's clearly pleased that Kirk has asked him for his help.
Jim turns to face her. "Well? I need an answer from you, O' Talented One."
McCoy cocks his eyebrow. Nyota's breath catches in her throat; it is a rather Spock-like gesture from the Southern man.
"Fine. I'll do it." She smirks. "But only because you'll need the best of the best to get through that test. I've heard no one's ever passed the Kobayashi Maru."
Again, Kirk winks at her. "There's a first for everything, isn't there, Cadet Tinkerbell?"
"Shut it!"
"Would you prefer Cadet Care Bear?"
****
She finishes her work early Friday evening, as she needs to get ready for her date. She has logged in the questions that cadets have been bringing to her. She will present these questions to Spock and, together, they will go over the topics that are confusing his class.
She approaches Spock, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder, and hands over her PADD. He is bent over a tabletop display, touching the screen to flip through electronic images displaying scanned texts. In the other hand is a stylus, used to write down information into his small, portable logbook.
"I've finished recording my office hours, and I can only come to one—"
She hesitates, but only moments, before she gives him a small smirk.
"—logical conclusion."
Spock's eyebrow arches. "And your conclusion is what?"
"There seems to be a common theme in your first-year class."
He sets his stylus down and stands upright, his hands clasped behind his back. "A common theme?" He asks a question, but his voice and tone do not change. He speaks evenly and calmly. He does not betray any signs that he is concerned about whatever Nyota will present him with.
"Yes. It appears that the cadets are confused."
"Oh? Regarding my most recent lectures, I assume."
Nyota's kind smirk melts into a warmer smile. "It's possible that it has nothing to do with your actual lectures, but more the theories themselves. Specifically, the theories regarding the evolutionary progression of Andorian dialects, in context of the survey course."
"Do you feel they are not given adequate time and consideration in my class? It is a survey course, after all, the purpose of which is to cover a broad amount of material in a short amount of time."
"Spock, I feel everything could be given more time in your class. That's got nothing to do with your lectures. Your syllabus is structured logically and cohesively. But it's dense stuff, regardless."
He considers something for a moment. "Perhaps it is not the material or my lectures. Perhaps it is the cadets themselves. I would have expected a few standouts in this class to appear by now, and yet that does not seem to have occurred."
Nyota laughs, hoping she does not sound like she is laughing at him, but rather with him, or at least his sentiment. "I guess it's safe to say each year is different."
"You…" he starts, but he does not finish; the sound — long and softly uttered — hangs in the air between them.
"Me?"
"Yes." Spock looks away briefly, as if thinking. He bobs his head twice, still in contemplation of something Nyota can only guess. She does not have to for long, as he speaks again. "You exhibited extraordinary aptitude a month into my class. When you were still my student."
She channels her nervousness into humor and chuckles, noticeably softer than her laughter before. "It took a month? I thought I showed my talents a week in." Trying to even out her tone, her voice, Nyota realizes she sounds coy, almost flirtatious.
She really needs to get that paperwork into Commander Kyle. The sooner, the better.
"I did notice your inquisitive nature early on. You were the only student who made consistent use of my office hours, and you never hesitated to offer your insights in class. However, it was your comparative phonemic analysis of present-day Andorian dialects and their known sub-species that convinced me of your true potential."
She can feel her heart and her brain temporarily abandon her body. But she will not let him see that. Instead, she maintains her cool visage, with just a hint of playful contention. "And here I thought I only convinced you of my skills when you tricked me with the paper that I thought you had made an error on."
She can see his face tensing. Small, subtle, but still it tenses. "You are still angry about how I conducted the aide selection process? I did not mean for it to have affected you so strongly."
She shakes her head, and she grins. "Sorry. I was trying to tease… no, I'm definitely not angry about it. Or even annoyed. How can I be? I got the job, didn't I?"
Spock's mouth relaxes and his eyes seem to open to her. Nyota thinks he looks relieved. "You did. And I know that we — Commander Patel and I — made the right choice."
"So I've been a good aide?"
"Normally, I would say that there should be no need to tell you of your value to the department, but I will make an exception. You have been indispensable to my work here as an instructor. For this, I must thank you."
She bites her bottom lip. "You're welcome."
"And, more than that, you have given me an opportunity to converse about Vulcan with another. For better or for worse, I have come to appreciate our discussions about my home world." She looks at him, slightly confused.
"For better or worse?"
"You must pardon me. I meant no offense. I meant only that I have been free to discuss the positive and negative aspects of Vulcan to you, Nyota. I appreciate you listening to both."
"It's my pleasure. After all, to love something is to know something, the good and the bad. You love Vulcan, but you also see her faults. And that's fine. That's healthy."
His eyes shift away, staring at a point just beyond her shoulders. Perhaps he does not want to make eye contact with her. "That is an interesting perspective." His gaze returns to her. "It is quite human, in fact. To love something, despite its flaws and lack of perfection."
She can see something dawn inside those dark eyes: awareness, comprehension… satisfaction? Contentment? Does it make him happy to realize this?
She suddenly feels nervous. On edge. She needs to leave, not only to get ready for her date, but because the room suddenly feels too small for the both of them, although they are inside the biggest language lab in the department.
"So, I-I guess you can take your time and look over my notes. The ones about my office hours. We can go over them, um… tomorrow?"
"Unfortunately, I cannot make plans to meet with you tomorrow, as I already have a prior engagement that I must keep. Perhaps the following day — Sunday morning, at oh-nine hundred hours — might work for both of us. Would that accommodate your schedule? Unless you are available tonight and you wish to accompany me to dinner. We could discuss the matters then."
Her heart flies up into her throat and her vocal chords chill. Never has she regretted agreeing to go on a blind date more. Instead of meeting his eyes, Nyota focuses on her hands as they grip the strap of her bag tightly. "I have a prior engagement tonight myself." She speaks rapidly, so as to not draw attention to the disappointment in her voice. "Sunday morning at oh-nine hundred is fine with me."
Spock's eyes fall to the floor. The movement is quick; if Nyota had blinked, she would have missed it.
But she did not blink. And she did not miss it.
"Very well. Sunday then." They nod and part ways. Only when she walks a few yards from the building and she takes two very deep breaths through her mouth does she begin to feel her heart slowing down to its normal, steady pace.
****
Gaila was somewhat right about the guy. John Carver is intelligent, and he does have a certain charm about him, allowing him to make witty jokes that come off as neither condescending or obtuse.
Unfortunately, for Nyota, he is a bit on the short side. She is not finding herself physically attracted to him. And there are a few times that it feels like he's trying too hard to make her laugh, that he gets slightly nervous when she looks over at him, and for some reason, that makes her tummy swoop.
And not the good kind of swoop that spending time with Spock has made her acutely aware of.
She is having fun despite these things. Perhaps she simply needs to hang out with him more and see if they might be compatible, both mentally and physically.
"So?" Gaila sidles up to Nyota in the ladies room. "What do you think?"
"He's nice and funny. But I'm not sure about the chemistry between us."
"Nyota." The Orion woman drops her voice conspiratorially. "He is totally checking out your frequencies."
"First, it's scanning. And second… ew!"
"He is, though. I'm not really surprised. You are looking great tonight!" Gaila says, apprising Nyota's choice of clothing for the date. She has taken off her black wrap earlier, revealing her black sleeveless top. Her skirt stops just above her knees, grazing the top of the sleek boots she borrowed from Gaila.
"Give the word, and I swear you'll have him eating out of your hand."
"I don't want that. I don't want a boyfriend who hangs on every word I say or puts me up on some pedestal. Besides," Nyota says, her voice barely a whisper, "he's really short."
Gaila rolls her eyes. "No surprise there. You are wearing my sex boots."
"You don't actually call them that, do you?" Nyota wrinkles her face in disgust.
Her roommate continues undaunted. "What? I always manage to get some whenever I wear them. Besides, a giant would be short compared to those heels you've got on."
Nyota's voice drips with cynical caution, "I'm pretty sure that he'd be a few inches shorter than me without the stilts."
The Orion woman looks at her, hissing. "Fine. He's shorter than you. Happy?"
Nyota decides to end this conversation; they've been in the bathroom long enough that the boys will be itching to send a search party to find them. The two women walk back out to rejoin their male companions.
"John, " Gaila drawls in her most provocative voice. "Did you know that Nyota's deepest… darkest… desire right now is—"
"Gaila!" She interrupts, gritting her teeth so hard they'll surely turn to dust. She cannot believe her roommate would even dare mention that. On a date! Surely, Gaila has more sense than that.
Or not.
"What? I was just going to say you constantly dream about being assigned to the Enterprise once she's mission-ready." The Orion blinks innocently and Nyota has the sudden urge to whack her for her purposeful duplicity.
John Carver sits up, excited, and addresses Nyota. "Really?"
She makes a sound, a cross between a snort and a laugh, hoping she comes across as far more nonchalant than the times she talked about the Enterprise with Gaila in their dorm room. "It's my first choice for an assignment. Hopefully."
Carver whistles. "Well, I don't blame you. I'd love to be assigned to her. Who wouldn't be? The Federation's flagship for long-term exploration? That crew's going to see some amazing things."
Nyota smiles. At least she found someone else who wants the same thing. Gaila could really give a Tiberian bat about what ship she will be assigned to.
"The way I see it," says Nyota, "whomever the communications officer will be on the Enterprise will have access to thousands of unknown alien species." She looks not at any of the others at the table, but at the center of the table itself. "Over half a decade's worth of first contacts and exploration. I want to be on Ground Zero for the most extensive xenolinguistics experience that has ever been attempted."
She looks back up at the others. Berkeley and Carver are smiling; Gaila looks at her with amused exasperation. This is nothing new to the Orion woman, although there is far less fawning and obsessive fixation in Nyota's demeanor.
Berkeley leans over, his voice low and conspiratorial. "I'll bet none of you've heard about who might be commanding her when she sets out." The table shakes their heads, practically in unison. Berkeley beats his palms, like a low drum roll. With a final flourish, he answers his own inquiry.
"Captain Christopher Pike. Formerly of the USS Endeavor."
Nyota whistles and nods approvingly. The others at the table vocalize a round of whole-hearted support. Christopher Pike is one of the best captains in Starfleet, if not the best. Bold, fearless, intelligent, dedicated — anytime his name is mentioned, one of those words pops up in people's minds. Nyota is certain of that.
If this is true, that he will be put in command of the almost flight-ready USS Enterprise, Nyota cannot think of a more deserving officer. The Federation's newest flagship will require a highly skilled crew and an exemplary leader when she embarks on her first mission, and Christopher Pike is the walking definition of exemplary. She has met him only once, three years ago. It was impossible not to feel intimidated in his presence.
They are in the middle of discussing Captain Pike's last two year mission when Gaila's face falls. Her mouth hanging open, her eyes bulging out, the Orion stands still at attention. "Commander Spock."
That is all Nyota needs to hear. Trying to not choke, on air or water or saliva or her own mortification that he chose to eat dinner at the same place they chose for their double date, she shoots up and twists around, as do Berkeley and Carver.
Staring back at the table, his face unreadable — even to Nyota — is Spock. Tall, wearing his dark grey uniform, custom for Starfleet's ranked officers, he stands with perfect posture. His PADD presses against his lower torso, and his other hand, she guesses, is flat against his back. He cuts an imposing figure, particularly for the three other cadets, as they are not accustomed to his presence.
At least, not in the way Nyota is.
She waits for him to say something. Moments pass as his eyes move around the table. It would be obvious to even the most obtuse individual, much less a Vulcan, that this is a double date. Gaila and Berkeley are clearly together. The engineering cadet reaches out and touches her back, almost unconsciously.
Then, his eyes rest on John Carver. She doesn't want to believe it — or perhaps she does — but she thinks she sees his face, indeed his entire body, hardening the more he stares at Carver. The cadet is oblivious to this, which only serves to lessen Nyota's estimation of him, as unreasonable as that is.
Spock, finally, looks directly at her. His face softens. "At ease, cadets. This is a night intended for recreation, is it not? It was not my intention to cause you any distress."
All four students smile sheepishly at him. Nyota feels warmth spread through her body all the way to her face. "Commander," she says, feeling that the more formal treatment is appropriate at the moment. As his aide, she takes the lead to talk to him directly. However, the moment she opens her mouth, she cannot think of anything to say at the moment.
"Er… are you dining with anyone tonight?"
Great question, Nyota. Next, you're going to ask him to join us, aren't you?
Don't give yourself any ideas!
Spock raises his eyebrow, the slight incline of his head indicating that he is considering her question. "I am not. After we parted ways at the laboratory, I found myself desiring a meal from the region of Southeast Asia for dinner. Thus, I decided to dine at this establishment and to make good use of this time to review your log regarding the cadets' confusion with Andorian dialects."
Nyota bites her lip. "Oh. Well, if you have any questions about my work, we can discuss them now, if you want."
There is a soft cough just over her shoulder. Cadet Carver's. Apparently, her brilliant mind does not extend to tact or good manners. She completely forgets that she is on a date.
Spock glances around the table, "You should not abandon the recreational activities that you have planned for this evening. Class does not resume until Monday, and we have already made plans to meet Sunday morning. These matters can wait until then. Besides, you deserve a few nights off. A break that will allow your mind to rest so you can approach work with a renewed energy."
He says these things and he looks at her. His eyes are steady, warm and open, and his mouth is set in a line, pulled slightly to the right side of his face. The overall expression is more gentle than his typical appearance. No one would probably notice the difference, but for Nyota, there is an intriguing depth to him that belies his impassive words.
"Don't worry, Commander. I'll take good care of her tonight."
She turns slowly, a smile frozen on her face, and looks at a well meaning, but loose-lipped John Carver. Why the hell did he think that was a good idea? No cadet should talk to a senior officer with such an informal attitude—
Well, that doesn't apply to her interactions with Spock. But those are different. She spends a lot of time with the commander, and there is a sort of familiarity between them, something that goes beyond the typical cadet-instructor candor.
Stop it, Nyota.
Regardless, Carver needs to watch his mouth and his actions around Commander Spock, even if the conversation takes place off campus. And inserting himself in a discussion between two people without invitation is just…
Well, it's rude.
Nyota turns back. Her eyes catch Spock's and there is a moment, so quick and fleeting that she feels like she is imagining it. But it gives her a thrill of excitement because she thinks she sees something ripple in the Vulcan's eyes, something altogether human in its origin.
Anger?
No… that's too strong. He looked at me, and then at Carver and felt…
Jealousy?
This is wishful thinking. The moment passes. Nyota cannot even be sure whether it existed. Suddenly, Spock aims his sight at John Carver. The Vulcan eyes him without any of the softness that he possessed when he spoke to her. His face becomes cold and stony.
"What is your name, cadet?" There is a definite chill to Spock's tone.
Carver is surprised to be addressed in this matter, but he manages to respond. "Uh… John Carver, sir."
"Cadet Carver, I do not recognize you from the Xenolinguistics Department; therefore, I can only deduce that xenolinguistics is not your major."
"No sir. I'm operations-track, specializing in engineering. Currently, I'm focusing on transporter theory."
"Engineering." Spock nods, his eyes drifting to the right. "And transporter theory. Commander Cleary is a thorough instructor. And quite an interesting individual."
"He is, sir."
"Several of my peers found him to be difficult. Has this been the case with you and your class?"
Carver awkwardly makes a sound of agreement as he shrugs his shoulders. "His class is very difficult. I have to work extra hard to stay in the top ten percent."
"Fascinating." Spock arches one eyebrow, his voice edgier and less calm than normal. "When I took the course, I needed to ask the commander for extra assignments." His mouth gives only the barest hint of a slight smirk — an almost blink-and-you'll-miss-it smirk. "The established coursework presented little challenge for me. He complied, I remember, rather enthusiastically to my request."
Nyota's eyes, wide like circles before, now grow bigger. Spock does not brag; arrogance is not something Vulcans indulge, at least what humans see as arrogance. But listening to him presently, she thinks what he is doing is bragging. But that is impossible.
Is it? He is half-human.
"Uh... well, I don't doubt it, sir," Carver says, slightly flummoxed. "You're one of the Academy's best."
"Indeed. I have been told that I am among the Academy's most distinguished graduates on more than one occasion."
Behind her, she can hear something that sounds oddly like a low whistle. Turning around, she sees Gaila's face puckered. She rolls her eyes at her roommate.
Spock looks back past Nyota's shoulders, the tension in his face retreating. "Cadet A'baa'ntan," he says, calmly addressing Gaila by her surname. "Were you aware that you have been assigned to simulation programs starting next week?"
Gaila is surprised that he is addressing her. "Oh! Uh… actually, I was. Sir."
The Vulcan nods. "You will be assisting with running, recording, and monitoring the Kobayashi Maru simulation. There is one scheduled for the upcoming Wednesday."
Nyota knows this is Kirk's simulation; what she is unaware of is Spock's role in it. To her ears, it sounds as if the commander is in charge of it. In the middle of her thoughts, Gaila makes a sound of acknowledgment.
"Yes. I'm supposed to help with the programming."
"We should meet then as you have not yet dealt with the Kobayashi Maru and are perhaps unaware of its parameters. I will provide to you information regarding the simulations you will be working on." His eyes meet Nyota's. "You and Cadet A'baa'ntan are acquaintances, I see?"
"We're actually roommates, Commander," Nyota says, correcting him.
"Most convenient, then." He turns back to Gaila. "You should accompany Cadet Uhura to the language laboratory Sunday morning. Our meeting will be short, and I will give you all the information that you require."
Gaila bows her head. "Yes, sir. I'll do that."
Spock regards Nyota with eyes that are, once again, more gentle than before. "I will not take your time any longer. I do hope that your evening will be an enjoyable one for all of you."
"Thank you, Commander. Have a good evening."
With a final nod, he pivots with precision. Long strides take him to the door, and out of the restaurant. She watches him leave, not taking her eyes off of him until he exits the building.
The cadets settle back down, and Nyota can hear them rumbling about Spock's imposing presence. But she hears none of it. Instead the only thing that she can remember, the only thing that she can think about is how he looked at and spoke to John Carver tonight.
"…I remember needing to ask the commander for extra assignments, as the established coursework presented little challenge for me…"
His tone, his choice of words; Nyota does not know what to make of them.
"Indeed. I have been told that I am among the Academy's most distinguished graduates on more than one occasion."
If she applies what he said to a human being, a man who has a similar stoic demeanor as Spock's, she would come to the conclusion that the words came from a place of insecurity. Perhaps they came from a need to demonstrate his intellectual superiority over another male?
He was jealous.
Of what? That Carver's into physics? Or that Carver is clearly here with—
No, not possible. Even though she suspects it, from that odd glint in his eyes. Spock upholds the rules of the Academy. Unless logic shows him a path, he cannot break those rules
But he did tell you he is impulsive. For a Vulcan.
It is official; her own brain hates her.
The ensuing silence is broken by Carver's snorts and chuckles. "Are all Vulcans that uptight?"
"Half-Vulcan," she replies automatically.
"Excuse me?"
Nyota stares at him blankly. "Commander Spock is half-Vulcan. His mother is human, just like you and me." She meets Gaila's gaze; her roommate gives her a piercing, knowing look. Somehow, that wordless acknowledgement is all the verification she needs that they will be analyzing this encounter for several days.
