Chapter 3: Not What It Seems

"Mr. Scott?" Charlene's voice was subdued as the Captain and the others left the transporter room. "That first beam-up – were there any anomalies?"

"All procedures appeared normal, Miss Masters." He turned to the other Engineering staff. "Thank you, everyone. No further beaming scheduled for this orbit. The Enterprise is on her way again."

Engineering staff returned to their usual workstations and Security closed off access to the transporter room. Charlene walked silently beside Scotty until they reached his office door. She looked at him questioningly. Scotty sighed, nodded, and stepped aside to let her enter.

"As always, ye may speak freely while we're in here, Charlene." Scotty cleared machine parts and a padd from the seat of a chair.

…

Captain Kirk's Ready Room

Donstelralth's meeting with Captain Kirk, First Officer Spock, and Dr. McCoy was brief and direct. The Vulcan artisan and his apprentices were on a trade mission when they encountered misfortune. Frugal Donstelralth chose to deliver a large furniture order to a customer in the JoBakair planetary system by freight, concerned that beaming might damage both his budget and the carefully crafted pieces. Unfortunately, he contracted with an unfamiliar, cut-rate freighter company. After successfully delivering furniture and sculpture orders to planets in the JoBakair sector (the delivery on the water-rich world involved some sort of floating bed), the Vulcans rented a small shuttle to travel to Alpha Cachette to purchase wood. From Alpha Cachette, they intended to book space on a freighter headed to New Vulcan. An entirely normal journey, halted by mechanical problems.

"Donstelralth, the Enterprise is already on schedule to visit Alpha Cachette; as you know, it's home to Starbase 231," Jim Kirk said. "You may travel with us for the next three Standard days and we'll drop you off in the main port town to resume your journey."

"Thank you, Captain. As stated previously, all three of us are exceptionally grateful to you and your crew. If I or my apprentices may assist in some way with work aboard the ship, please tell us."

"No, you're all our guests! Wouldn't dream of it. Not much wood aboard the Enterprise for carpentry anyway. Just relax and enjoy yourselves."

The older Vulcan looked at Jim somewhat blankly. Right, Jim thought. Vulcans don't really do relaxation or 'enjoyment'. He tried again, employing words he'd heard Spock use.

"You may find some...agreeable recreational activities on board. Lieutenant Sulu's created a shipboard garden. You can use the gym and game room. The observation deck is quiet if you need to get away. Both Doctors McCoy and M'Benga served as medical interns on Vulcan and are knowledgeable about Vulcan physiology. We also have movie nights, music nights, and parties, if that's your sort of thing."

Donstelralth only blinked, but he said politely, "How interesting. Thank you, Captain, Mr. Spock. If I may be excused...I would like some quiet time."

"Of course, Donstelralth. You've had a difficult experience. Feel free to contact me with any concerns."

Spock understood that Donstelralth wanted to meditate. "Please pursue solitude as you deem appropriate, Donstelralth."

The Vulcan excused himself and left.

"Speaking of parties," Jim said, "Three crewmates have already sent messages requesting permission for a party in the reception room tonight and also for the winter holidays. Tonight's party is in appreciation of the Vulcans' rescue and successful completion of what was otherwise routine mission."

Spock blinked. "The human desire to stage elaborate social gatherings for the slightest reason is quite predictable, though illogical."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Saving three of your stranded countrymen is 'slight'?"

"It is the humane and logical thing to do, and therefore unremarkable. It is my personal opinion that the crewmembers would have made the party request regardless of the rescue."

"They mean well. It's curiosity about socializing with the Vulcan apprentices that sparked this party idea, I suspect. And it won't be elaborate: colored lights, dancing, a controlled 'open' bar."

"Understood, Captain. You have already given permission," Spock said dryly, and rested his steepled fingers against his chin. "Captain, Algid-17 is in a sector frequently trafficked by trade convoys and Federation ships. Does it not seem unusual that the distress call sent by Donstelralth and his apprentices was not intercepted by any other ship?"

"Could have been a period of low traffic," Jim speculated. "Donstelralth said that the shuttle's instruments appeared not to function properly from the time of takeoff. If that shuttle wasn't well maintained, its distress beacon may also have malfunctioned."

"Spock, do you have any concerns about their presence aboard ship?" McCoy asked.

"No, Captain. As citizens of a Federation planet they have a right to be here, and I would never refuse to assist castaways without good reason. I admit that it is unusual to be one of four Vulcans aboard our ship. Aside from some typical immaturity displayed by the apprentices, it is unlikely that their behavior will create problems among the crew." Or for myself, he thought.

"Immaturity?" McCoy inquired.

Jim wiggled his eyebrows. "No miniskirts on New Vulcan, remember? The way those young guys stared! They're gonna tell all their friends back home about the Starfleet uniforms."

Spock frowned. "Such behavior is unacceptable. I recommend that you order all female crew to wear the trouser version of the uniform until the Vulcans disembark on Starbase 231."

"Order? Naw." McCoy shook his head. "Let's make it optional, because it ain't the women's fault. Spock, have a gentleman's chat with those younguns and tell 'em to keep their eyes above a woman's shoulders. That's the only way to find out if she likes you back, anyway – they'll learn."

"You are correct, Doctor. Pardon me – it is both logical and obvious," Spock said. "Youth is no justification. I nonverbally indicated my displeasure with their attention to the uniform skirts –"

"Gave 'em the Spock Stare of Doom, eh?" McCoy chuckled.

Spock raised an eyebrow at McCoy and continued. "I will speak to Donstelralth privately. However, this raises another question. Gentlemen, both of you are just as capable of communicating with the Vulcans as I am; each one speaks Standard and has had at least some exposure to non-Vulcans. No Vulcan translator is needed. Why do you not speak to them?"

"You share the culture and the language, and might communicate better. I won't issue a Captain's order forbidding crew from fraternizing with the Vulcans, or vice versa, unless something inappropriate happens. I know they all speak Standard, but I thought you'd all have similar ideas about…" Jim hesitated. "You're right. Your life is really different from theirs. No reason why we shouldn't all speak to each other. They're guests of Starfleet, and we should all get to know them while they're here."

"Just assumed that you'd have more in common, I guess. But I see your point," McCoy said thoughtfully. "I'll talk to 'em."

….

The Enterprise

Inside the private office of Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott

Charlene watched the Chief Engineer pacing across the small, somewhat cluttered office. "With all due respect, sir –"

Scotty paused in his pacing and stuck out his lip in a parody of a sulk. "We're alone, 'Lene."

"Scotty," she sighed. "Look, you didn't give me a yes or no answer about the beaming process. Please tell me if something went wrong, so that I can work with everyone else to solve the problem."

"Science isn't involved with this, 'Lene. It's just a personal thing, a...feeling. I know it sounds odd. You understand; you've got an engineer's brain too. We work in tangibles: processes, methods, principles."

She leaned forward. "If you have any personal concerns I won't tell the others - unless it's a security risk, of course."

Scotty slumped into a chair beside her. "Our lads came back lookin' safe. P'raps they had some disagreement while on planet, or they saw something unusual and didna report it – but that would violate procedure. No, something's amiss, and I canna say what it is. "

"From what I saw, they all behaved normally. Scotty...let's review the beaming data again, together, or you can assign it to me. Maybe we'll find the reason. Or if it really is personal, um, you could consult Dr. McCoy, or we could, um...we could...talk. About work things, or...other things, life in general."

Scotty's heart thumped faster, as though following the steady beat of a sappy love song for lovestruck teenagers. "A chat, yes. Go for a donner – a walk," he clarified. "Some quiet part of the ship, the observation deck or garden. I'm only taking m'self to the Doc as a last resort."

"Good." Charlene impulsively leaned forward and clasped both of his hands. "You're one of the best bosses I've ever had, and I don't want you to burn out. I'll go review that beaming data now." She let go of his hands – drat! – and stood up, smoothing her short uniform skirt. Before Charlene reached the door, Scotty stepped in front of her, gently clasping her shoulders. "Thank ye, Lieutenant," he said quietly.

Dazed, she stared at him.

Damn it. "Forgive me, Charlene. I -"

"Don't worry. It's all right," she said, touching his chin with her finger. His expression revealed something she was unprepared for. Charlene's eyes widened and she stepped back.

"Later," she whispered, and fled.

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