Chapter Six: From Bad to Worse
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, and I make no money from blabbing about what they do.
Natalie Jolsen lifts her glass and rattles the ice as the waiter scoots by. He pauses long enough to nod and steps quickly across the conference room to the free-standing bar set up for attendees. At the other end of the room is a buffet spread across several tables, and around it, small tables where a few people are still eating and chatting.
Suddenly the waiter is at her elbow with another bourbon—her third—and a credit pad in his hand. She keys in her number and takes the receipt the waiter gives her; as soon as he moves away, she crumples the paper and tosses it on the floor.
On the opposite side of the table Chris Pike is deep in conversation with a software engineer who claims to be able to enhance any program's interface with the master computer slated for the next generation of starships. It's an incredible claim, and Pike is clearly skeptical. His questions are incisive but polite—but after a few minutes Natalie realizes that the software engineer is using the conversation more for self-promotion than for information sharing.
That's not a surprise. Since Chris' appointment was announced several months ago, he's been inundated with potential crew members jockeying for his attention and a possible slot on the Enterprise.
Normally promotions and positions are handled by seniority and rating scales and roster rotations, but Chris made hand-picking his crew a condition for accepting the captaincy of the Enterprise—not a surprising demand to anyone who knows him well. He's always thought of his crew as surrogate family—indeed, if Starfleet hadn't recalled him mid-mission from his last command, he would have corralled most of that familiar crew instead of what he is doing—these interminable interviews to meet the people who will become his new family.
And if Natalie weren't planning to resign her commission as soon as the Enterprise launches, she would be busy now as his first officer, overseeing the last of the construction and planning the manifest.
But rather she is here, bored and getting slightly drunk, listening with half her attention while she keeps an eye out for Commander Spock.
She knows he is in the building. Earlier her contact at headquarters had answered her discreet inquiry about his landing time at Schiphol terminal—Commander Spock had apparently rescheduled his departure from San Francisco three different times during the day, finally catching the last shuttle and arriving in Amsterdam at 1930.
A quick train ride to Leiden, the university town hosting the conference—and a walk through the city center since no vehicles have been allowed for several centuries, a Dutch effort to maintain some of the traditional character of the towns surrounding the megalopolis of Amsterdam—and Natalie had figured he would arrive before 2000 hours.
When she was coming down to dinner she had actually passed him in the hallway—each giving the other a curt nod. As she was about to press the lift button she felt a jolt—how stupid, she thought, not to have watched him to see where he was heading. Some spy she would make!
She had hurried back to the hallway but he was already gone—possibly to a room of his own—but more probably to the room at the very end of the hall where Natalie knows Nyota is staying.
But she doesn't know for certain, and without hard evidence, Natalie says nothing of her suspicions to Chris.
She's not even certain why she is watching Spock—and keeping an eye on his teaching assistant. What they do in private is none of her business.
Unless, of course, they get caught—and then all her investment in getting Chris to consider Spock for the Enterprise will be wasted energy.
Of course, Chris hasn't agreed to anything yet, though he had listened intently when she had told him what she had learned on the shuttle ride.
She is suddenly very tired and considers taking her bourbon with her up to her room and a hot bath when Spock and Nyota enter the conference room together. That's not smart, Natalie thinks, and then she chides herself. No one else would see anything unusual about the two of them walking into a room at the same time. She takes another sip of her drink and watches them make their way to the buffet table.
Spock picks up a small plate and walks slowly down the table as Nyota keeps up a running patter, pointing to certain items and shaking her head from time to time.
Natalie sits transfixed, her bourbon glass in her right hand. Something about their posture—about Nyota's peremptory motions with her hands—suggests a familiarity and an affection that surprises Natalie. Is she the only one who sees this? She looks around but not even Chris is paying attention. Instead, he is saying farewell to the software engineer who is finally, finally getting up to leave.
Chris glances over at Natalie and grins. She knows what he will say before he speaks, but it makes her laugh anyway.
"I've got some catching up to do," he says, pointing at the drink in her hand.
He looks up to signal the waiter and sees Spock and Nyota walking back from the buffet table. Because she has been watching them so closely, Natalie sees what Chris does not—Nyota's finger brushing the top of Spock's hand as she says something to him. Spock looks over at Natalie and Chris then, and Chris waits only a beat before waving him over.
Nyota says something else to Spock before making her way back across the room and out the door. Only then does Natalie realize that Nyota must have already eaten—must have been coaching Spock on what foods his dietary restrictions would allow.
"Commander Spock," Chris says, motioning for him to take a seat. "My attaché tells me that you are making a presentation tomorrow."
Natalie puts her drink down on the table and sits up. Spock carefully puts his plate on the table and pulls out a chair, but he says nothing. Natalie tries to make eye contact with him—perhaps she can encourage him to make an effort at conversation. Spock, however, seems intent on the plate in front of him.
Chris gives her a quick glance and then says, "So tell us, what's the presentation about?"
For the next two minutes Spock does—in so much detail that Natalie begins to wonder why she ever thought he needed encouragement. Tap into his interests, Natalie thinks, and he doesn't shut up.
The waiter brings Chris a drink at last and Spock falls silent again as Chris signs his credit tab.
"I'm sorry to hear that your mother is ill," Chris says, and Natalie sees a flicker of surprise flash across Spock's face. She wonders if Chris sees it too—and whether or not he will tell Spock how he knows. Revealing her as a source of information makes her feel flushed—and oddly guilty.
But Chris continues. "This radiation treatment—now why doesn't she have that on Vulcan instead of coming all the way back here?"
Spock puts his fork down on his plate before he answers.
"She could have the treatment at home, but she combines her time here with visits to her family."
Chris nods and seems to be about to say something else when Spock adds, "And she says that spending time with certain members of her family helps her remember that there are things worse than radiation treatment."
Perhaps it is the third bourbon, Natalie thinks, but the Commander is being funny.
"I spent some summers with my cousins," Spock goes on, "and I agree."
Both Chris and Natalie meet each other's gaze—and Chris grins. A joke! At least, Natalie hopes it is a joke. Spock picks his fork back up and continues eating.
"Sounds like my kind of people," Chris says, and Spock answers, "They were pleasant company compared to my classmates on Vulcan. They could, however, create a great deal of what my aunt called mischief."
"You? Mischief? I can't picture that, Commander."
"I did not say that I participated," Spock says, finishing his food and pushing his plate to the side, "just that my cousins were the instigators."
He waits a second and then adds, "Although from time to time—"
"I'll bet—" Chris starts to say, but at that moment the building rocks so violently that the table collapses on one side and plaster dust snows from the ceiling. All over the conference room people are crouching behind their overturned chairs, smoke billowing and a faint alarm howling.
Natalie is on her knees, her broken glass under her hand—she can hear Chris yelling for people to get down as another explosion shakes the building.
Immediately she knows what is happening. She and Chris had talked about it earlier—the possibility that the growing anti-alien movement might erupt while the conference was in session. Only a few protesters had greeted them at the air terminal when they had landed—but they had been louder than the crowd that had gathered all week outside the Academy gates back home.
A larger group had barricaded themselves outside the conference center, almost all of them carrying cards and placards and playing to the media coverage. Uniformed officers had been stationed to keep them at bay—the local government had resisted the Federation's offer for more staff—and now someone must have breached the entrance.
The smoke hurts Natalie's throat and she feels a wave of anger. What idiot would detonate a sonic grenade in a building unless he had suicidal tendencies? The probability of structural compromise is high, as is a possible fire—
She doesn't have time to think further. Chris is yelling something to her and Spock grabs her by the forearm and pulls her toward the door to the right.
Another loud explosion knocks them both off their feet. The sound of shouting—and then a small group of men in civilian clothes rushes into the room, personal weapons drawn.
"Don't move!" someone shouts.
From the corner of her eye Natalie sees Chris signal to Spock. Spock slowly stands and begins to sidle backwards, slowly and noiselessly.
Chris, on the other hand, steps toward the armed men, his hands raised.
"Are you in charge?" he says, and the protester who had yelled earlier says again, "Don't move!"
Chris stops in his tracks and slowly lowers his hands.
"Listen," he says, "if you want to have your say, you need to let these people go first."
The armed man who had spoken earlier waves his weapon at Chris.
"I've already had my say," he yells. "Now I want action! We're tired of talking. We want—"
While he is talking, Natalie watches as Spock circles around behind him, moving closer until he is able to reach out and grab the nexus between his neck and his shoulder. The man collapses as if he has been pole-axed—and as he does, Chris runs forward and wrestles a small firearm from another protester. The remaining two turn to run but are stopped by the crowd—and to Natalie's eye, give up rather quickly and with some relief.
And then all hell breaks out as the crowd parts suddenly—and Natalie sees Spock leaning over to scoop up a live sonic grenade from the floor, its telltale whine signaling imminent detonation.
Instinctively she crouches and covers her ears—and sees only a glimpse of Spock as he runs out of the conference room. She looks up at Chris at the same time that she hears the explosion.
A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read and review! Your comments keep me going--and will help me get the next chapter to you sooner! Thanks, too, to StarTrekFanWriter for her suggestions!