Osmosis -a STXI Spock/Uhura fanfic
Chapter Two: Objects of Attention
"Extra Vulcans aboard? Well, ain't this just fascinating. Let's all get ready for outbreaks of meditation, philosophical debates, chess-playing, and other wild dissipation." murmured McCoy.
He switched on the Captain's comm. "Attention, all crew. Chief Medical Officer McCoy speaking in Captain Kirk's stead. The landing party is safe, but the Enterprise has responded to a distress call and we are welcoming three guests aboard, all citizens of New Vulcan and loyal to the Federation. Please make them welcome and respect their wish for privacy and quiet. McCoy out."
…
"Hey, is that lid warped?" Captain Kirk leaned over Steap and stretched out a hand to help.
"Uh, I just didn't have a good grasp on it." Steap pressed the collection box lid down with an exaggerated movement. The message from the Vulcans had provided a useful distraction, but he hadn't counted on Kirk resolving the situation so quickly and paying attention to him. "Seems to work now. Might be the cold."
"Right, we've been planetside long enough that the metal may have contracted." Jim gave him a friendly thump on the arm. "I hear that Alpha Cachette, our next stop, has a nice, warm beach. Hey, you used to surf, right? You could show a flatlander like me how to ride the waves. Ready to beam up?"
Steap nodded and gave the Captain the thumbs-up. Captain Kirk seemed a decent guy, trying to get to know as many of his crew aboard the huge ship as possible. Steap still felt some surprise at how quickly his own promotion had come; here he was in a landing party, working side by side with the Captain, the weird Vulcan First Officer, and that Russian kid.
Too bad his increased responsibilities, the assignment to better and more frequent missions, hadn't come a month earlier. Steap had become impatient. Kirk and that Vulcan simply took too long to realize how smart he was. He wasn't getting far enough, fast enough working for Starfleet. Steap was tired of waiting. He'd found a way to make Starfleet, and perhaps the Federation itself, work for him.
...
"Right, lads, prepare to beam up."
Scotty felt the familiar tension in his body, a sharp alertness that came upon him only in the transporter room. Every cell seemed to focus on the devices and crewmates around him: the transporter pads, the controls, the other engineers' voices. The beaming process began and Scotty began to ride it through.
As the shapes of men and objects formed on the transporter pads, Scotty held his breath and felt sweat trickle down his back. He glanced down at the controls. Everything looked normal, was normal. Almost.
"Miss Masters." His gaze was steady on the controls, but he saw her body turn attentively towards him in his peripheral vision. "A reading, if you will?"
The same information was visible both on the monitor and the eyepiece Scotty wore, but Charlene did not comment on this, and read the relevant data aloud in her low, calming voice.
"…transporter pad lock, normal. Mass, four disparate one to one human masses within specified range, normal. Solid processing rate, normal. No unusual data, sir."
Then why does the back of my neck prickle so?
Rapidly swirling shapes of the landing party and their sample collection box formed on the transporter pads. Scotty stared at them intently.
He saw Kirk, already talking as he removed his helmet. Spock, expressionless as usual. Ensign Steap, lifting the collection box and declining a crew member's offer to help carry it down to Sciences. Steap nodded briefly in response to Chekov's excited commentary on the distress call, looking distracted.
Nobody was missing. Scotty exhaled, relieved, and Charlene looked at him with a questioning expression. Perhaps he needed more sleep. There were no tangible signs of beaming problems, yet...something unsettled him about this simple mission.
The men he saw were not alternate versions of themselves. Although he couldn't explain it scientifically, he knew that the beings before him were the same people. Steap was himself, burdened with the self-involvement common to many young men. His titled chin and tense jaw were the same, not a sign of an angry, violent double.
Scotty shook his head. Maybe he should go on break, clear his mind.
"Well done, thank you, everyone. Our Vulcan guests now! Set coordinates. Beam up."
The swirling shapes on the pads grew solid. Pointed ears took shape. Four redshirts squared their shoulders, ready for action, but no Trojan Horse materialized aboard the Enterprise. Three Vulcans blinked back at the crew: a middle-aged Vulcan man with strong facial features and long, graying hair stood flanked by two tall, younger Vulcan men.
A hush fell over the transporter room as their First Officer stood before the Vulcans and raised his hand in the t'aal, fingers spread. " Osular (gentlemen), welcome to the Enterprise."
Spock had recognized the name immediately. Donstelralth. The man was a respected artisan and carpenter on New Vulcan. During their last December shore leave on Earth, Nyota surprised Spock with the gift of an intricately carved and lushly upholstered couch, which she commissioned at Donstelralth's shop during the couple's visit to New Vulcan a few months earlier. The couch had adjustable parts designed to support bodies in a range of positions and activities. Spock and Nyota greatly enjoyed experimenting with those positions.
His feeling of self-consciousness quickly faded. Why be ashamed? He and Nyota were legally and ritually bonded. Ownership of such furniture was not unknown among Vulcan bondmates. Despite Donstelralth's reputation for eccentricity, Spock had heard that the artisan took his role as an unofficial Vulcan cultural ambassador and historian seriously, and he would most likely respect the privacy of a bonded pair, even though both had human blood. Gossiping about his clients' private commissions and purchases would ruin both his business and his reputation.
Spock recalled how Nyota told him that Donstelralth wore his hair in a pre-Surakian style; he must have some influence on his apprentices, whose unusually long hair also deviated from the typical Vulcan short, bowl-cut style. The shorter one even wore his hair pulled back in narrow braids. Such individualism was unusual within New Vulcan's population, even among diasporic Vulcan migrants. Regardless of their appearance, Spock hoped that the youths followed IDIC and Vulcan manners and customs.
Donstelralth allowed relief to show on his face for a moment; then his deep voice sounded, speaking in clear, lightly accented Standard. "Greetings, Starfleet personnel – Osasu Spock." He and the other Vulcans each raised a hand in the taal. "Our gratitude cannot be expressed simply through words. We deeply appreciate your kindness and effort in rescuing us."
In accented Standard, the apprentices echoed their mentor's words. "Thank you, osular (honored people)."
Jim stepped forward, the shadows beneath his eyes eased by the curiosity and sociability in his expression. "Welcome aboard, gentlemen. Starfleet always strives to aid those in distress when possible."
"We were in great distress indeed, Captain Kirk. Peace and Long life to you. I am Donstelralth. These are two of my apprentices. The elder is Serranstivlen-" the taller, more muscular younger Vulcan inclined his head slightly. "The younger is Stelendos." The Vulcan with braided hair paused in his wide-eyed visual survey of the room and made a slight bow to Jim.
"Good to meet you all." Jim quickly introduced the men to the others in the room, then continued. "We're glad that you're safe. Lodging is available for each of you. Mr. Donstelralth, I'd like to meet with you after you settle in to discuss your situation. Our ship's current location makes it impossible to beam you directly back to New Vulcan; you'll need to travel with us for a few days to Starbase 23 to arrange transportation." Jim nodded at the apprentices.
"Thank you, Captain," said Serranstivlen, quickly halting his visual examination of the female engineer standing next to Osasu Scott to make eye contact with Jim.
This one's gonna be either a nuisance or a buddy, Jim mused. "If you'll follow Mr. Spock and Lieutenant Uhura, they will lead you to the guest quarters."
Nyota, hurrying in from the bridge, raised her hand in the t'aal and greeted them in Vulcan. Stelendos flushed green, and his hand trembled as both apprentices returned the greeting. Donstelralth, unruffled, warmly greeted Nyota in return. Serranstivlen even smiled slightly.
Spock sternly raised an eyebrow at the young Vulcans. Without benefit of military experience, each young man abruptly stood up soldier-straight, averting their eyes from Nyota's hemline, and that of every other woman in the room.
Spock wanted to scold the apprentices. Long skirts were customary for Vulcan women. He remembered how long it had taken him to get used to Starfleet uniform miniskirts, particularly whenever Nyota sat in the front row of his classes at Starfleet Academy (her modest posture and placement of a jacket over her lap helped little, as he then imagined removing the jacket and kissing her thighs). However, socially appropriate behavior was taught to all Vulcans, and these apprentices knew that staring was never acceptable.
"Please follow me, gentlemen," Spock said. "While we walk to your guest quarters I will provide basic information about the Enterprise. I will also provide some useful advice on interactions with various cultures and genders on board, with some discussion of attire," he added, aiming a hard look at the apprentices, who flushed green.
As the Vulcan guests gathered tool kits and traveling bags from the transporter pad and prepared to follow, Spock exchanged a meaningful look with Jim. Jim doubted that the Vulcans posed an obvious danger to female crew, but perhaps Spock's caution was rooted in personal experience of being a young, hormonally agitated Vulcan. He nodded at Spock. I get it.
Asking his guests to walk beside and in front of him while Nyota and a red-shirted Security officer followed behind the group (he would not tolerate further observation of Nyota's legs), Spock kept up a steady flow of commentary about the ship in Vulcan and Standard as the trio of Vulcan guests walked through the corridors.
A few crew members watched them curiously; it was rare to hear Mr. Spock talk so much. His behavior as host was hospitable and engaging, providing some clues as to what attracted the easygoing Lieutenant Uhura to her usually stern husband.
Always mindful of nonverbal communication, Nyota watched the apprentices while she translated Donstelralth's remarks and some of Spock's commentary for the redshirted Security officer beside her. Stelendos did not smile back at the crew, but he looked back at people in a way that acknowledged them and seemed empathetic. The taller apprentice, Serranstivlen, also looked at the crew around them. A hint of a smile hovered around Serranstivlen's eyes and mouth; crew members responded to his appeal, nodding greetings his way.
So. Serranstivlen is a ladies' man, or maybe even an everybody's man, Nyota mused.
After they left the apprentices to rest in the guest quarters, Nyota and Spock offered to escort Donstelralth to Captain Kirk's ready room for the meeting the Captain had requested. As Donstelralth took a moment to put away his traveling bag and toolkit inside the room, Nyota turned to Spock.
"Don't worry about the apprentices," she said quietly. "The first time aboard a Starfleet ship is challenging for anyone. Jogoo wa shamba haiwiki mjini (the cock from the country doesn't crow in the city)," she added in Swahili.
"They will be the subject of attention simply by being Vulcan and must behave appropriately. If either one stares at you again, I will challenge him to spar with me in the gym, without gloves," Spock muttered.
"You'll win, of course."
"I will also appear to be out of control. Perhaps I should debate him until he apologizes instead. It is something of a relief to be older and wiser," he sighed. "Adun'a, will your schedule allow us to sleep at the same time tonight?"
The look she gave him made his heart thump in his side. "Oh, yes. I'm all yours, Mr. Spock."
Spock smiled. "As I am yours, my dear Lieutenant."
…
Chekov and Steap delivered the collection box to Sciences. Wonder entered his voice as Chekov described the planet's surface to the staff. Dreaming of his own future captaincy, he tried to pitch his voice lower and maintain a serious attitude, but his excitement showed in the animated gesturing of his hands as he described watching the sun moving across the sky during a four-hour-long day.
Steap detached the device from the side of the collection box and pushed it up beneath his sleeve. The Science lab personnel didn't look his way while listening to the Russian kid talk. Soon he needed to leave the lab, find an open vent in some unguarded corridor of the ship and slide the folded device inside. Usually Steap disliked being ignored but it no longer mattered if he was unappreciated. They'd soon learn the hard way that he deserved attention.
His smirk crumpled into a frown as a sharp pain stung his forearm. Steap surreptitiously pushed up his sleeve and saw two folding sections of the device releasing a fold of his skin; a flat metal disk was embedded in his skin, circled by blood. He couldn't pry the disk up with his fingernails.
Steap pushed down his sleeve. So what? The tagging didn't mean that he and his contacts couldn't trust each other; maybe they'd just forgotten to tell him about this part of their deal. Anyway, they were paying him. Their first installment had already paid for a few shopping expeditions during shore leave. He'd simply ask them to remove the device when he met up with them to end the deal and request proof of their promised final payment to the off-planet account he'd opened.
Steap smiled and nodded as though listening to Chekov joking that Algid-17 was nowhere near as cold as Russia.
Vulcan glossary for this chapter:
Adun'a=wife
Okosu = honored lady, or madam. Honorific / form of formal address.
Opidsu = Lord.
Osasu = honored man, or gentleman/sir.
Osular = gentlemen/sirs, ladies, ladies & gentlemen; 'honored people'.
Sanoi = please.
Sources: thanks to the Star Trek Online Geekipedia.
Swahili proverbs: Wikiquote.
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