Chapter Two: Other Points of View
Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from these characters—but I do have a lot of fun with them!
Before Spock goes to the interview, the rest of the afternoon with Nyota is a series of necessary chores for the upcoming week—setting the schedule, arranging the energy management for the lab, and finishing up some student assessments. By 1730 Spock is ready to head across campus to the administrative building and the interview—Nyota gathers up her things and walks with him until they reach her dorm and she wishes him good luck.
"Luck will have nothing to do with the outcome," he says, but this is an old joke between them, and she smiles. He estimates that he will arrive eight minutes early for the interview so he allows himself time to stand and watch as Nyota walks up the walkway and disappears inside.
The receptionist who normally mans the front desk has left for the evening and Spock wends his way alone down the hall to the office where Captain Pike is conducting interviews. The door is shut but Spock can hear voices inside—even in the outer office he can detect a decibel level high enough to indicate some emotional outburst.
He refrains from sighing.
Two minutes-thirty-seven seconds after his scheduled meeting time, the door finally opens and a short woman with cropped auburn hair motions him in. She doesn't introduce herself but Spock deduces that she is Pike's aide. She seats herself in a chair in the corner of the room---an interesting irregularity.
Captain Pike looks like a typical middle-aged human male—stockier than Spock and with gray flecks in his hair. The angle of Spock's chair keeps him from being able to see Pike's aide, but he can hear her as she shifts suddenly and takes in a quick breath.
Spock is certain that Pike's expression means something, though he cannot fathom what. The captain's glance to the folder and back up again suggests that he is not prepared for the interview—but that is illogical. This interview has been scheduled for several days.
"Commander…." Pike says, and Spock realizes with a start that the captain does not know his name. So he is unprepared for this interview. That is disconcerting—and disappointing.
"Spock," he says. To his surprise, Pike reaches out and closes the folder on his desk. Is the interview over already?
If so, then the captain has obviously made a decision, either selecting him or not. His unfamiliarity with Spock's dossier—indeed, his not knowing his name—seems to indicate a negative outcome. To his dismay, Spock feels a flash of anger.
But then the captain baffles him.
"Tell me about yourself."
Over the years Spock has learned to recognize when humans make jokes—their intonation becomes flatter, their faces relax into smiles, they narrow their eyes—but Captain Pike is doing none of those things. Still, his words indicate a humorous intent. Surely he does not mean for Spock to tell everything. That would be excessive—and time-consuming—and of questionable value. From behind him he hears the attaché breathing loudly.
When Spock asks the captain to clarify his comment, Pike gives him the same direction, almost verbatim.
A starship captain should be able to communicate swiftly, with unimpeachable clarity—again Spock feels a prickle of dismay.
The aide in the corner makes another noise. Is she somehow communicating something to Pike? This "double-teaming" feels vaguely unjust, or at the very least, confusing.
The captain's next question confirms Spock's suspicion that communication between them is likely to be misdirected.
"Why are you in Starfleet?" Pike asks, and Spock has a flashback to the moment that he made his decision while standing before the Vulcan High Council. He is in Starfleet because he is not there—and he tells Pike so.
The captain does seem to know that he is teaching—though not what subjects. What curious gaps in his knowledge. At last Spock understands what he can do—filling in missing information is something he does well. For a few minutes he and the captain are able to communicate without further missteps.
Later Spock will recount for Nyota the moment that the interview really ended—when he sensed that Pike had deemed him unsuitable for the job. Even when he tells her about the summary paper—and about his explanation for why he hadn't read it—he doesn't understand exactly what happened.
But Nyota does.
"He gave you an order that you didn't follow," she says, and Spock twitches with an irritation he rarely shows.
"Reading the summary was not an order," he says, "and it was unnecessary. If the captain wanted to discuss the subroutine program with the candidates, I was quite able to—"
"That's not it," Nyota says, putting her hand on his arm. "Look at it from his point of view. He expected you to do something that you didn't do—"
"It was unnecessary—"
"But you didn't do it! He's the captain—"
"Nyota," he says, pulling his arm away, "he is not my commanding officer, and sending a summary to read is not an order."
"Don't get upset with me," she says. "I'm trying to see why—"
"A captain of a starship should welcome efficiency," Spock says, his eyebrows raised, his back straight. He takes a breath and lowers his shoulders.
"You just got off on the wrong foot," Nyota says, but even Spock can tell that she is upset. "Did he say anything about a follow-up interview?"
He looks at her closely then—and is surprised to see water rimming her eyes.
"Nyota…." he says, and he calls up his past and uses the words his mother has taught him. "I am sorry."
Nyota nods then, and a tear spills down her cheek. They are sitting beside each other on his sofa in his apartment and she presses her face into his chest. Almost hesitantly he circles her gently with his arms, and they sit like that until Nyota's comm chimes—a student rescheduling a tutorial for the next morning—pulling them back to the concerns that consume their days.
X X X X X X X
"Did you see this?" Chris Pike says to Natalie the next afternoon, holding up his PADD and sliding his finger across the screen to replay the newsfeed.
Natalie shoves her empty salad bowl aside on the table and takes the PADD. As usual, the Academy cafeteria is noisy, and she has to turn up the volume and replay the feed again before catching the drift. When she does, she frowns and hands it back to Pike.
"That's two in a week," he says, and Natalie purses her lips.
"A fluke," she offers.
"A trend," he counters.
Just then the large screen mounted on the wall near their table reports the same story Pike has been following. For the past six months a growing protest movement has been gaining momentum in over-populated, under-resourced cities in Asia and the Pacific rim. Now the protests have turned violent—and have become local. Twice this week police have dispersed unruly crowds in both San Francisco and Monterrey.
"I don't get what these people want," Natalie says, motioning at the screen that shows people milling about with placards and large signs.
Pike snorts.
"Don't you? Xenophobes, all of them. Kick everyone off the planet who isn't human—that's what they want."
"You really think—" Natalie begins, but Pike interrupts.
"All that shit about the economy—about jobs—they can't really believe that aliens are keeping them from working. How many aliens you know? Lots? Hell, no. Even here I can't count more than a couple dozen I know personally. How many off-world cadets you think are keeping good humans out of the Academy? These guys," he says, waving at the screen, "are just blowing smoke."
Natalie sits back and waits for Pike to simmer down. She learned long ago never to talk politics with him—not that she doesn't mind going head to head with Pike in a heated argument, but political discussions with him rarely go anywhere but in a circle.
"Speaking of aliens," she says, picking up her glass and rattling the ice, "did you read Commander Spock's dossier yet? Like you said you would?"
Pike pushes back from the opposite side of the table and crosses one ankle over his knee. Natalie knows this signals his willingness to talk at length; so, the dossier has given him pause after all.
"And?" she prompts, and Pike takes a breath.
"I admit," he says, "that the guy looks good on paper."
"Good?"
"Okay, he's brilliant. You were right—his superiors think he's something else. Satisfied?"
"You aren't?" Natalie says.
"You were there," Pike says, raising his hands at her. "Having a conversation with him was like pulling teeth. How's that going to work on a ship? I tell you, it ain't!"
"So he's hard to talk to," Natalie says, laughing at Pike's expression. "Get to know him better. Call him back for another interview."
At this Pike shakes his head and Natalie adds, "Or meet him someplace else and have a normal conversation with him. You haven't given him a chance."
"What is it with you and this guy?" Pike says. "Why are you his advocate all of a sudden?"
"I don't know," Natalie says, beginning to feel irritated. "Why shouldn't I be in his corner? He wrote the frickin' computer program you're in love with, he gets high marks for his teaching ability—"
Pike's arms are crossed and she knows she's about to lose him. She points her chin at the news story still on the large screen overhead.
"And because of that. How do you know that you don't dislike him because he's a Vulcan? How do you know you aren't just as xenophobic as those guys—way down deep?"
Now she's gone too far—she can tell immediately. Pike flushes scarlet and sits stock still. His mouth opens and closes—undoubtedly to tell her off—but then he stands and turns and leaves the cafeteria without looking back.
She lets him go. He doesn't hold grudges—he never has—but he might need some time to cool off.
Well, Commander Spock, Natalie thinks, I've either given you another chance or just sunk your ship.