AN: Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review so far, your thoughts are like the strawberry creme in my, um, Strawberry Creme...
I am currently writing this with a kitten that thinks it's a parrot perched on my shoulder, so if some of it comes out like a purr, you know why...
ETA: To save confusion, I've altered Spock's age in the prologue.
Another Path
Chapter 1
Academy - Part 1
Spock
Starfleet Academy.
Midnight.
The main San Francisco campus of Starfleet Academy was always quiet at this time of night, with only the instinctively nocturnal or the overly stressed and restless students awake and roaming the darkened halls. In the Strategic Simulation Programming block an exception to this rule sat rapidly working a dimly lit work station. The usually perfect posture of the programmer was very slightly hunched, the only telltale sign of the amount of time that he had been working.
Nimble fingers flew as if possessed over the control panel as dark eyes zipped back and forth between readings and figures. Alone in the programming suite, the owner of the eyes and fingers allowed himself a tiny quirk of the lips, satisfied that no cadet would ever beat this feat of programming genius. Finalising the exhaustive stream of data filling the screen that would have befuddled any average engineer, the programmer hit the 'submit' key with the sort of flourish never displayed in front of his colleagues. Sitting back in his seat and confident that no-one was around to see, he smirked at the screen; his Kobayashi Maru scenario was absolutely flawless, yet again there was no way to beat it.
Rising from the seat that had held the imprint of his posterior for the last fifteen straight hours, he shut down the terminal, turned off the lights and headed out of the suite, locking the building down behind him. He boarded an inner-campus transport and chose, in deference to his aching lower half, to stand rather than sit, despite the fact that the vehicle was empty of passengers. The initial test-run of his version of the assessment scenario would be first thing in the morning, and despite his fatigue he could barely wait to savour his inevitable victory.
Arriving at the housing block used by the academy instructors, he found one of his brightest xenolinguistics students waiting for him in the lobby. Forcing his tired frame into it customary ramrod perfection, he nodded politely in greeting. "Good evening, Cadet Uhura. How may I be of assistance?" Taking his civil greeting as an invitation to expound, she launched into an explanation of why she was lurking in his building waiting for him, gesturing to the haphazard pile of heavy Andorian tomes and data PADDs in her arms as she did so.
Spock nodded along with her explanation, finding himself simultaneously charmed and exhausted by her exuberance. She paused for breath and he held up a hand to stop her. Cadet Uhura's gift for tongues was both a blessing and a curse; she was brilliant in her field, but she could talk the hind legs off of a Petalian gnork,and Spock was too tired to remain politely standing listening to her. He had been practically cross-eyed by the time he had finished with the Kobayashi program and he wanted nothing more right now than to return to his quarters and either meditate to calm his Vulcan side - which was still happily processing additional figures in his head - or put his feet up in capitulation to his Human half which was screaming for him to be horizontal. He did not wish to seem rude and he would usually encourage his students' enthusiasm, but not to the point where he would fall asleep on them. Being Vulcan did not make him invincible, he needed rest just like any other man.
"Cadet, this is fascinating, but may I respectfully request that we partake in this conversation another time? It is very late and I fear that I would not be at my most engaging." The hint of a proud smile twitched his lips as he stated simply, "I need to be at my best in order to debate properly with you, Cadet Uhura."
Blinking rapidly to stave off a very undignified yawn, he watched in mild amusement as Uhura looked down at her books in order to hide a flattered blush.
Scotty
Starfleet Engineering Corps.
0300 hours.
A pair of male, human eyes, indeterminate in colour, studied the miniscule inner workings of a failed phase inverter with an unnatural keenness. The owner of the eyes had been asked once what colour they actually were, to which he had irreverently responded 'slightly mutanty'. A pair of fair eyebrows slanted into a frown as they joined in the intense scrutiny of the guts of the poor device that lay on the bench like a patient before a surgeon. The tip of a tongue poked out of the corner of the engineer's mouth as he moved a pair of micro tweezers over the fractured lens...
Then sent the whole lot flying with a jolt as Ensign Keenser popped up beside the work bench with a loud chirrup of excitement, startling him.
"Bloody hell, Keenser! You wee menace, I almost had it!" He gazed mournfully at the scattered remains of phase inverter all over the floor. It would take him hours to reassemble it.
Keenser showed no sign of remorse as he grabbed the sleeve of Montgomery Scot's red engineer's uniform and all but dragged him over to the control panel where he had been working. Grimacing and spouting a steady stream of mild profanities at his assistant, Scotty allowed himself to be dragged to where the little alien had a complex schematic displayed on his terminal. Coming to a halt, Scotty stared blankly at the transporter schematic, trying to see what the hell Keenser was rabitting on about, until the other engineer hopped up onto a stool, took hold of the back of his head and pushed his face firmly against the screen.
"Zere!!" Squawked Keenser, in badly mangled Basic.
Scotty brushed the little alien off him, uncaring that he knocked him off the stool he had been perched on, and rubbed his bruised nose as he stared, his eyes widening in shocked delight.
"Keenser! You ruddy wonderful little creature, I could kiss you!"
Keenser obligingly puckered up his scaly lips from his prone position on the floor. Scotty poked him with his boot as he bounded past, dove into his swivel chair, spun on it with a flourish and began rapidly typing figures and equations into the simulator.
He watched the simulation run with one leg jiggling up and down in barely restrained excitement, his index finger tapping against his teeth as he did so. When the computer chimed its success, he whooped in glee and spun to face Keenser who had struggled to his feet.
"Right then, all we need now is a test subject..."
Keenser, recognising the maniacal gleam in Scot's eye as he fixed him with a calculating gaze - visually estimating Keenser's size-to-weight ratio - shook his head violently and quickly suggested an alternative.
Scotty grinned at his assistant's idea. "Admiral Archer's beagle, you say? Brilliant!"
Chekov
Leningrad Academy of Applied Sciences
Late afternoon
Pavel Andreievich Chekov was enjoying a rare moment of technology-free leisure time.
Chekov was not wise beyond his years, he was not a master theoretician and he was not a genius polymath. He was, however, unstoppable in the application of non-linear mathematics and his natural skill had led to his selection at a very young age to join the illustrious ranks of the Leningrad Academy Alum.
But he was still a boy, and boys like to daydream; so here he was stretched out on his back on the synthetically too-green grass of the ornamental lawn of the Academy's South wing. From the open windows of the building behind him, he could hear the gleeful whoops of his older peers as they practiced their hand-to-eye reflexes in the VR games room, but Pavel was not in the mood for losing himself in made up reality today.
He was quite content to lay on his back, watching the clouds drifting slowly overhead, and dreaming of a future above them.
Sulu
Starfleet Academy
0800 hours
Feint left...
Compensate for AOA...
Hard roll to port...
Balance the thrust and drag...
Cut to dead stop, let the other ship overshoot, lock onto his trail...
Fire!
Hikaru Sulu punched the air in victory as the final enemy ship on his radar exploded and fell from the simulated sky. He half-rose out of his seat, about to pull off his headset in celebration when the one-man simulator abruptly rocked under fire.
"What the hell?!"
"Sit down, Cadet." His instructor's voice sounded behind him. "You are still under attack."
Sulu threw himself back into the simulated dogfight, but it was too late, the simulation had him dead.
"Kisama! Bakayaro!"
"Language, Cadet." The instructor's voice sounded weary; this was not the first time that this particular, promising pilot-to-be had not finished what he started. Lieutenant Foss pinched the bridge of his nose, he was beginning to think that Hikaru Sulu had some sort of attention deficit disorder. He should probably recommend the bouncy little cadet for psychological evaluation.
Kirk
The Legs Eleven nightclub, Iowa
0100 hours
"Hey, Man, come on. I didn't know she was your girl, I swear!"
Jim Kirk backpedalled away from the human shit-house that was advancing on him. He couldn't help it if the hot Felusian girl had asked him to dance, and how was it his fault that he lost control of his hand? Didn't this behemoth know that he suffered from a rare case of Idle Hand? He couldn't be held accountable for his actions when his unfortunate condition decided to kick in.
"I been wantin' ter do dis fer a long time, Kirk." Huge, golf ball sized knuckles were cracked in preparation of facial impact.
Jim swallowed in fear as visions of his nose being blasted all over his face flashed before his eyes. "Jenko, come on man! Let me buy you a drink and we can forget this whole thing."
Jenko was not in the mood for drinking anymore and as one volleyball sized fist swung through the space where Jim's head had just been, the latter was once again inordinately grateful for his lightning reflexes. Scrambling out of the bar, Jim pumped as much adrenaline as he could into his legs and the sounds of angry yelling soon faded behind him.
Bones
The McCoy Household, Mississippi
2300 hours
Leonard McCoy had no wish to be cantankerous, it was not a character trait he had willingly embraced, but it was, unfortunately, one that he could not ignore.
Much to his wife's dismay.
"God damn it, Woman! I'm a doctor, not a calendar!"
Patricia McCoy's lips thinned into a quantum filament. "Leonard, I understand that you're busy, I understand that your patients need you, but what I don't understand is how every three hundred and sixty four days you lose an entire twenty four hours."
McCoy's brow furrowed and his gaze darkened. "Patricia..."
"One day, Leonard! One!" Her voice was shrill and he winced. How she could be in any doubt as to why he always managed to forget this date was quite beyond him. Clamping his teeth down onto his tongue, he forced himself not to retaliate, conscious of waking the child fast asleep directly above them. She took his silence as a sign that she was finally getting through to him, so she continued in a dangerous hiss. "I swear to you, Leonard McCoy, this had better be the last time your forget our wedding anniversary or it will be curtains for you!"
He reflexively glanced quickly at the old fashioned curtains hanging from a pole over the living room window -the ones that she had chosen without his consent - and realised that he had never really noticed how much they resembled vertical vomit.
Uhura
Starfleet Academy
Midnight
Nyota Uhura was slowly driving her room mate insane.
Gaila had tried everything to block out the grating, nasal sounds her friend had been making for the last hour, but to no avail. It wasn't that Gaila was intolerant of other species, far from it, in fact she rather enjoyed her xenosociology classes, but there was something about the Andorian language that absolutely irritated the crap out of her. Pulling her personal music player's ear pod out of her ears, she had to raise her voice to be heard in her own head.
"NYOTA, COULD YOU NOT DO THAT SOMEWHERE ELSE?"
Uhura jumped at her room mate's yell. "Huh? What's wrong?"
Gaila rubbed at her temples, more grateful for a lack of sound than she had ever been in her entire life. "Thank you. I'm sorry, Nyota, but I can't take the sound of that any more. Is there anywhere else you can practice?"
Uhura grimaced apologetically, "Sorry. The library is closed for the night."
Gaila made a face at her, "That's because only insane people work at this hour."
She laughed, closing down her PADD. "I guess you're right, but I have a test tomorrow and if I mess up the rhythm on the oral part of the assessment I'll fail."
"Is there NO-ONE whose place you could go to practice? Maybe someone who doesn't think of nails on a chalkboard when hearing Andorian? What about K'San? She's in your class for this, right?"
Uhura grimaced again, "She and I kind of aren't talking." She opened one of the books laying on the bed in front of her.
Gaila became frantic, clutching at anything and anyone she could think of as she saw Uhura take a breath to resume her torture. "Hey, what about Commander Spock?"
Uhura looked at her like she'd grown a second, pink, fluffy head, "Spock? I'm not going to see one of my teachers at this time of night!"
Gaila, sensing that she possibly had an out here, pushed. "Well why not? He said his door is always open, you told me yourself last week! Besides, Vulcans don't sleep as much as everyone else, he's probably sitting home bored out of his mind, just waiting for someone to come along and professionally torture his pointy little ears."
Uhura frowned, but Gaila would not be deterred from her efforts to salvage her sanity, and soon Uhura found herself sitting in the waiting area in the instructors' building after a quick trip to Commander Spock's quarters revealed his absence. This was ludicrous, what on Earth was she thinking letting Gaila brainwash her into coming here? She scowled, the sneaky little Orion had probably spritzed her with manipulative pheromones to soften her up. She rose to her feet and picked up her books in preparation for departure and her frown slowly deepened as she dwelled darkly on the many and varied ways that she could get back at Gaila for this.
The doors to the entranceway swished open, startling her out of her increasingly dark thoughts of revenge, and she froze guiltily as Commander Spock appeared in the doorway.
He greeted her politely and instead of making immediate excuses and leaving to murder her room mate, she launched into a hurried explanation as to her presence in his building.
"Commander Spock, I'm so sorry to bother you so late at night but as you know I have the Andorian assessment tomorrow. The problem is my roommate has kicked me out and I need somewhere to practice and she suggested I come here seeing as the library is closed, but I know this is a bad idea because you're my teacher and you can't give extra tuition outside of class the day before a test, that would be unfair, besides I think she put some mojo on me to get me out of the room; f you have a small study or something I could use, I promise not to get in your way, I just need somewhere to practice." Running out of oxygen she paused in her speech to take a breath and he held up a hand to stop her. It was as he spoke that she realised how tired he was.
She blinked. She'd never seen him tired.
And then he did the unthinkable.
He complimented her.
He complimented her and smiled.
Nyota Uhura had never been embarrassed in her life; she had always been a proud, strong, independent woman who did not need the praise of men to know she was good at what she did. But this was no ordinary man, this was Commander Spock, whose idea of praise was to tell students that they were marginally more intelligent than a Casetian meerkat. She felt heat rise up her neck and spill into her cheeks; unfamiliar with the reaction she was at a loss what to do, so she looked down, averting her gaze from his. Looking back up at him once she was sure the worst of the blush had passed, she smiled tentatively, genuinely pleased.
"Thank you, Sir." She moved to edge around him and towards the door. "I'll leave you in peace. I'm sure I'll be able to get enough practice in during my free period before class tomorrow. Goodnight." She turned her back to him and had just reached the threshold when his voice stopped her.
"Cadet Uhura, it is too late for me to help you with the Andorian module of this semester's requirements, but I would be willing to assist you with the Tellarite module scheduled for next term. If you would care to visit my office during school hours I can offer you any help you may need."
She grinned at him. "Thank you, Sir! That would be really helpful."
*
The following term, she did as Spock had suggested and visited him to work on her awful Tellarite - which would have been absolutely incomprehensible to a native speaker - and then once that module was done, she visited for help with Romulan, then Benzite. By the time they got to High Vulcan, they had established a comfortable friendship and when Nyota suggested they dine together one evening while they discussed Coridan philosophy, neither saw it as a prelude to anything else.
-UFP-
Academy Part 2
Nyota
It was well past seven in the evening by the time I left the language lab and headed back to the dorms. Spock and I had been working on my High Vulcan, which was both sucky and amazing; sucky because I can't pronounce High Vulcan for love nor money, amazing because Spock can.
Oh how he can.
I'd always known that Spock was a talented linguist - not to toot my own horn but he wouldn't be working with me if he wasn't - and naturally he was always going to be good at Vulcan, but...
Wow.
Luckily my feet were working on autopilot, because thinking about Spock speaking High Vulcan is very distracting and left to my own devices I would have wandered off in completely the wrong direction. Spock speaking true, proper Vulcan is a sight to behold, even to one as well travelled as me. His face doesn't move much when he does it, but it doesn't have to, the magic comes from his lips.
Tonight had marked a turning point in my High Vulcan training, he said that we had done enough ground work and that it was time for the real thing.
If I had known what the 'real thing' was, I would have insisted on it much sooner.
I watched as he swallowed a few times and rolled his head on his neck. He raised his chin, opened his mouth and then he rudely rocked my world. I had never heard anything like what I was hearing in that moment.
If I had ever harbored any doubts about the fact that Spock is in fact an alien, that moment had thoroughly squashed them. His face was placid, his brows drawn down, emphasising their swoop, and the sounds that were coming from his mouth were just... alien. His adams apple was bobbing frantically as the strangest blend of guttural and crisp vocalisations filled the air. A glaze had covered his eyes as he submerged himself fully in his Vulcanness. At that instant he was as alien as any alien I had ever seen.
I should have been horrified. I wasn't.
I tried to concentrate on what he was saying, tried to make sense of the discordant noise but all I could do was stare.
Spock's intelligence had always impressed me, his grasp of languages likewise, his ability to field any and all questions thrown his way and his unerring cool had built up a healthy respect in me. I respected Spock, but in that moment of Vulcan purity I realised something else; he was alone here. He was the only Vulcan working within the mostly-human Starfleet, when was the last time he had been able to converse with anyone the way his genetics demanded? When was the last time anyone had been able to listen?
In that moment I was determined to be the one to listen to him.
Making it back to the dorms on homing instinct alone, I slipped quietly into the room I share with Gaila and braced myself for the usual barrage of questions.
Gaila was seated comfortably on her bed, working on a PADD; she looked up at me as I dropped my bag by the foot of my bed. "Hey Yoyo, you're awful late, were you and Commander Spock trading tongues again?"
I sighed half in amusement, half in exasperation. "There's nothing like that going on between Commander Spock and I, how many times do I have to tell you?"
Gaila winked and smirked, "Once more, Yoyo, as always." She looked back down at her work and continued, "Besides, I only asked if you'd been 'languaging' at each other, you're the one who put the smut in there."
I harrumphed, "One day you'll get bored and stop bugging me about this."
She snorted, "I'll make you a deal: the day I wake up pink instead of green, I'll leave you and Commander lover-boy alone."
I must have spent a fifth of my time at the Academy attempting to convince my sex-crazed roommate that my relationship with Spock was purely platonic. I didn't dare tell her that I we had taken to dining together once a week, or that I suffer from the occasional, inappropriate dream abut him.
The dinner dates were not dates, they were a chance to discuss the latest hot topic around campus - the state of the planet Coridan's philosophically based war of all things. Nothing untoward ever happened, and nothing ever would; with Spock I can enjoy an attractive, intelligent, engaging man's company without the pressure of expectations, because there are none. He would never make a move on me even if he wanted to because of the rules against fraternisation, and I would never make a move on him - again, even if I wanted to - for fear of being turned down and ruining the professional relationship we've built up.
If I refuse to think of him in that way, I'll be safe.
Spock
I find myself regarding Cadet Uhura with a wary eye. She has been progressing much more slowly on this extra module than on all the others, simply because there are no recordings for her to listen to. The selectively xenophobic nature of my people has led to a complete lack of commercially available material on the elite language of the elders. The only way for her to stand a chance of grasping this language is for me to speak it for her.
Therein lies a problem.
High Vulcan is not like the day to day Vulcan that every member of my race speaks, it requires ultimate control of one's internal auditory meatus, something that took me a good four years of solid study to master. Cadet Uhura is unquestionably skilled but can she handle this? She is most likely taking on far too great a task by adding the rarely chosen High Vulcan module to her already considerable work load. Added to that is the fact that she has probably not heard a language like this before, she may well be repelled if I speak it to her.
There again, is my problem.
I have found myself enjoying Cadet Uhura's company more and more of late. I have been acting as her personal tutor on the more advanced level languages she has been studying and we have discovered a compatibility in personalities. I would not call our professional relationship a fully fledged friendship - after all I am still her tutor - but she is easier to converse with than any other student under my tutelage, and we are like minded on many subjects. We have been dining together - on her suggestion - and I find that I am starting to develop an inappropriate attraction to her. This is unacceptable, so I have taken steps to eliminate it through meditation and discipline over my physiological responses when I am around her..
It is proving more difficult than I had anticipated.
So I take a gamble.
In our private session this evening I tell her that we have done enough ground work on the basics of High Vulcan and that she is now ready for the real thing. I ignore the way her eyes light up and remind myself of why I am doing this. I am fully aware of how bizarre this tongue sounds to human ears, after all, I have half a set myself. I hope that hearing such strange sounds coming from me will remind her of my alien nature.
She will be repelled. It is for the best.
It has been a long time since I have spoken true Vulcan, the pure language, the one unsoftened by the lingua franca of Federation Standard that every Vulcan speaks. I feel a tingle of anticipation in my belly; my ancestral language makes me feel more Vulcan than anything else I have experienced and despite the fact that Uhura will likely be negatively affected by the sounds I will make, I am strangely excited.
I raise my head, flex my neck and swallow a few times until I am happy that my vocal chords are loose enough. Opening my mouth and my throat, I speak.
She blinks.
My two halves, usually at perpetual, bitter war with one another, suddenly fall silent on one side. The Vulcan in me surges to the fore and for an instant of peace, fully eclipses the human.
As I speak I watch her watching me. She has not recoiled; this is both frustrating and perplexing. There is something going on behind her eyes, some thought is forming that I am not privy to.
I stop speaking and she blinks at me again.
Picking up her bag she takes the PADD we had been working on earlier up off the bench and puts it inside. With a quiet murmur of farewell she leaves and I am left alone with my thoughts.
Was my attempt to put a little distance between us successful? She did not appear to be as disturbed as I had hoped. Alone in the lab I grimace, my human half roiling angrily through me, both at being suppressed and at my failure.
Left to the mercy of my human urges I would be encouraging Cadet Uhura, not trying to keep her at an arms length. This is the reason why I so seriously considered completing the Kol'in'ar before my rebellion against the Vulcan Council.
That also was an impulse fueled by my human temper.
I had fully intended to enter the Vulcan Science Academy, despite the very tempting offer of study at Starfleet Academy and if it had not been for the elder's slight against my mother I would have remained on Vulcan. As it were, the very side of me that had gotten me into so much trouble as a child had roared to the surface of my usually placid facade, taking control of my emotions and my mouth and sending me on the path I now followed.
I did not regret the decision to leave Vulcan and come to Earth, but every now and then I could not help but stop and wonder...
Would she have betrayed me if I had stayed?
T'pring had taken the piece of my heart that I had offered up to her and practically handed it to the man who stole her from me.
Stonn.
Even now the name brings a bitter taste to my mouth.
For a long time I blamed myself for the fact that she turned to another. I had been away from Vulcan for fours years and in that time my feelings for her had not changed. I returned shortly after graduation, hoping that by fulfilling our obligation and completing the bond that she would come to care for me the way I did for her.
Up to that point of infinite emotional gravity, my life had been neatly ordered and under my control and that was the way I liked it. The new sense of betrayal was unfamiliar and so painful that at that point I swore that I would never feel it again.
I had returned to Earth in order to embark upon postgraduate studies and intended to lose myself in my work. During my extended time at the academy, many females made motions of interest towards me but I rebuffed them as kindly as I could and nurtured an emotional unavailability that would become the envy of any master of kolinar.
I experienced pangs of lust, just like any other fully grown male and I indulged in physical intimacy in order to abate them, but no woman came near to my heart, I made sure of it.
If I could not love, I could not be broken.
The logic was sound, but the practicality was not. Cadet Uhura was getting dangerously close to that very carefully guarded part of myself, and I did not like it.
AN: Up next, the Enterprise.
