Osmosis – a STXI fanfic
Chapter 8: Respite
Vocabulary in this chapter:
Adun'a= wife or bondmate (female). Vulcan.
Adun=husband or bondmate (male). Vulcan.
Ashayam = beloved. Vulcan.
Might could= might (may). "Might could" is a common phrase in Southern/Midwestern U.S. colloquial English.
Spell = A short period of time. Southern U.S. English, 19th – 21st c...
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and do not profit from depictions of them.
Inside Spock and Nyota's shared quarters
The Enterprise
Off duty at last, Nyota pressed her hands into the small of her back and stretched. Somehow she'd kept her eyes open in the warm shower; now the bed stretched out before her, waiting to carry her to the land of restorative sleep. Her new peach-colored satin nightgown peeked out teasingly from beneath the corner of her pillow where she'd left it over a day ago. She'd hoped to wear it to delight both Spock and herself. Now she was far too tired. If fate were kind, maybe she'd try again some other night. Nyota pulled on a soft, worn camisole and shorts.
The door slid open and Spock entered. He glanced toward the connecting door to her individual quarters, where she still maintained a small bed and office; then he looked back to her, relief visible on his face.
"Adun'a, I am pleased to find you here."
"I'm glad to see you too, love. Where else would I be?"
He moved closer to her. "I considered the possibility of your sequestering yourself to avoid interacting with me. Were you displeased with me for ordering you to leave the bridge?"
"Oh, are you still worried about that? Sweetheart, I wasn't going to go and sleep in the other bed and lock you out just because you followed proper procedure. I knew that I needed to rotate off duty. I just wanted to see the crisis through, to know that everyone was safe – just as you did. My admirable First Officer takes good care of his crew, I know that. I do have one problem with you, though."
"Problem?"
"Where's my kiss?"
It was a slow, soft kiss, and a welcome one. Afterward he rested his forehead against hers.
"How long can you stay with me?" she asked.
"Four hours."
"I'll take what I can get." Nyota grasped the edge of his blue uniform shirt and pulled it over his head, followed by his black undershirt. "Lie down with me for a while?"
"Yes." He took the shirt from her. She knew that habit compelled him to fold his clothing tidily before placing it in the cleaning chute, so she kissed his cheek and left him to his preparations.
Spock pushed his head beneath the faucet in the bathroom, running water over his hair and washing his face. He stripped down to his boxer shorts and lay beside her. They fell into and wrapped around each other, moaning, absorbing each others' warmth, fatigue and affection.
"Rest well, ashayam. One additional day of travel awaits us."
"Mmm. I won't sleep long enough to disrupt my internal clock. I'll go to the gym when I wake up. I hope the atmosphere in there's better than it was last time."
Although her side of the bond was hazy with weariness, he sensed uneasiness, a memory of aggression. "Tell me."
"It's nothing, just some trash talk from an Ensign who didn't realize how inappropriate he was." Spock's arms tensed around her. "Easy, babe. Let's discuss it later. I can handle it," Nyota insisted.
The steady, reassuring thump of his heart quickened slightly against her forearm. Spock rose up on one elbow. "Nyota. You will tell me."
Spock was not the type of husband who demanded that his wife obey him, but Nyota knew when he was willing to out-argue her. She recounted the unpleasant encounter with Steap.
The muscles in Spock's shoulders felt hard and still. "My bondmate is not a 'chick'. His behavior was exceedingly disrespectful and I am displeased."
"Like I said, his mouth outruns his thoughts. I've overheard people saying much worse about me. Anyway, we were off duty. I'm not defending him," Nyota explained. "I'm just saying that it isn't surprising."
"An officer such as yourself is in some ways never off duty unless on shore leave. This is a curious situation. Ensign Steap betrayed no signs of such unacceptable behavior during our mission on Algid-17."
"Yeah, 'cause the away team was all men, and you weren't in a situation where gender would have been discussed anyway. Maybe Steap thinks that the gym is male territory or something."
"In my understanding of this odd human practice, 'trash talk' typically involves disparaging an opponent's athletic ability while actually engaged in sport, not a refusal to participate in sporting activity with another. I will speak with him."
"Honey, maybe that isn't necessary. I barely know him – he couldn't possibly have a personal grudge against me. Maybe he just needs a reminder about how to deal with women crewmembers. Let's forget it. Cuddle with me before I fall asleep." She rubbed his shoulders soothingly, made him lie down. "One good thing... our young Vulcan guests responded quickly. Stelendos and Serranstivlen backed me up immediately, and Chekov and Miranda came over to help – although Steap probably would have ignored Ensign Miranda because she's female. The shorter one, Stelendos – he got right in front of Steap while Serranstivlen shielded me."
"Their defense of you is commendable, although your protection is my responsibility. I can imagine an alternate scenario in which my own defense of you causes Ensign Steap to become temporarily airborne," Spock said dryly. "Ah, you are about to scold me, adun'a? Of course, I must adhere to standards befitting an officer." He sighed. "May we now leave conflict and narrowly averted disasters on the other side of our door?"
"Of course, sweetheart." Nyota smiled. "I wish that we could..."
"But you are too tired."
"Mhmm. Sorry. If things were different..."
"We will be patient." He kissed her forehead; she sighed happily, and then opened her eyes again.
"I feel something from you...I haven't taken time to find out how you are." She moved so that more of her bare skin touched his: legs, arms. Their mating bond revealed remnants of anxiety, tiredness, and apprehension.
"Oh, no. Move this way, adun." Rolling onto her back, Nyota pulled gently at Spock's shoulders so that he lay with his head tucked along the curve of her shoulder, one arm around her waist. "Let it go, love." She concentrated on sending him feelings of calm, comfort, acceptance and love. Pushing her fingers through his damp hair, she gently scratched his scalp with her short, smoothly shaped fingernails. The muscles all down his long, strong body relaxed; his head moved slightly as he released the tension in his jaw.
"Relax, big man," she whispered. "You don't have to be strong all of the time."
"Neither do you," he murmured back.
His thoughts opened themselves to her. A stream of images from the bridge, corridors of the ship, faces of crewmembers, thoughts of Sarek, concern for the safety of his wife, then a mental image of a single flame burning in his ceramic firepot.
Nyota understood that Spock would not rest yet. Instead, he intended to lie here with her until she slept, then meditate until his the end of his free hours neared and he returned to the bridge. He considered increasing the security setting on the door to her quarters, depending upon the ship's technology to protect her when he could not. Another door, the connecting one to the separate quarters she maintained – he accepted her wish to maintain some independence, although he did not wish her to shut him out.
There was a flicker of desire too, of his intention – Spock maintained that Vulcans did not wish – to press his lips along the length of her back. Without words, Nyota let him know that she found the thought agreeable and that he need not limit his attentions to one area. A soothingly erotic fog drifted over her thoughts, and she settled into a deep sleep.
…
Captain James T. Kirk's Quarters, the Enterprise
"I don't sing well, but the last time I was home for winter holidays, I sang Christmas carols for almost two hours running at my cousin's party," Jim murmured. "Winter Wonderland, We Three Kings of Orient Are...I even surprised myself by managing the higher notes in O Holy Night." He sat in his quarters, chatting with McCoy. He'd asked the Doctor for a hypospray to help him sleep, but the hypospray rested unused in Leonard's hand while he listened to Jim.
"Homesick, are you? I thought that something was bothering you this week. I hear ya. I ordered gifts for my daughter and my ex-wife months ago, so they'll have something to enjoy at the holiday...but I'd rather be there with 'em. I reckon I can be pleasant around her new stepfather for at least a couple hours while Joanna opens her gifts. The guy's as common as pigs' tracks, but I can tolerate him for a spell."
"You're stronger than me. Haven't had much luck with my stepdad; we barely speak anymore. One good thing about all that singing was that as long as I sang I couldn't argue with relatives. It barely stopped 'em from arguing with me when the music ended, though."
"Y'all might could try to fix things, try talking with each other," McCoy suggested. "Would you want to go on leave to Iowa, see your family for the holiday?"
"Nah. Next year, maybe. I'd like to have a party for our Enterprise crew, either planetside or once we come back aboard. Some of them probably feel a little sad over the holidays too, and the shipwide search was stressful for people. I'll ask Uhura and Sulu – they're pretty good at planning get-togethers."
"Hey, what about me? I know that folks call me grumpy, but they don't call it Southern hospitality for nothin'. I'll help too. It's good to hear you sounding better, Jim. Still want this hypospray?"
"Maybe I don't need it anymore." Jim stretched and yawned. "Sorry to call you in here for no reason."
"Sometimes the right medicine for a problem ain't what people expect it to be. Take it easy and rest up, Jim."
…
Ensign Charles Steap's Quarters, the Enterprise
Charles Steap examined himself in the mirror. Hair, still thick; muscles, firm; teeth, clean and strong. Really, he had a lot going for him. There was no obvious reason why the blonde yeoman's attention had wandered while he was hinting that she might find a life outside Starfleet exciting, and well paid. Why she'd stared at that long-haired Vulcan instead of him, he couldn't figure out. Not that he was serious about the woman, but it might be nice to have some company at the expensive resort he'd found on a rogue planet outside the Federation. Too bad for her; he'd just find somebody else with more of a taste for good living. If his contacts would only hurry and send deposit the additional payment they'd promised him, he could purchase the false identity he'd need on planet.
The little metal disk inset into his arm grew warmer; Steap rubbed the skin surrounding it. Sometimes it itched. He sighed in relief as an incoming message chime sounded, and hurried over to his computer, working through layers of encryption.
"It's about time," he snapped as the vaguely familiar face appeared in the chat window onscreen. The moustache on his contact's face looked fake, and a cheap fake at that. Last time the alien had worn a wig, large earrings, and badly fitted beard.
"I understand the need for secrecy, but you could at least spend enough to get better looking disguises," Steap sneered.
"Humans do concern themselves with appearances too much," the alien returned in a deep, possibly digitally altered voice.
"Maybe pick up a sense of humor while you're at it." Steap shrugged. "What's your name this time?"
"You may call us Mercenaire today," came the reply, in a tone of voice both airy and smug. Steap, no fan of whimsy, frowned but decided to get down to business.
"I put the drone into the vent, as directed, and I assume it collected the ship data you wanted. This metal in my arm wasn't part of our original deal." He raised his arm toward the screen. "I want this thing off, pronto! What's it for, anyway? Tracking device? Can't you just count on me to tell you where the Enterprise is going?"
"Can any being truly trust another in an unpredictable universe?" Mercenaire said rhetorically. "No, you will wear the disk until you meet with our representative, who will give you the final payment."
"Doesn't suit me. What's it worth to you if I decide not to report you to Starfleet?"
"There are other weak and greedy men aboard Federation ships."
"I'm better at games and hacking than they are. Probably. I don't appreciate being called weak. Greed I'll admit to. Your offer beats my Starfleet salary several times over, and I'm not stupid. Don't think you are either. Sweeten the pot and I can not only give you full mission schedule data for the Enterprise, but I'll disrupt the onboard network and navigation. It'll slow down the mission long enough for you to meet up and dock with all of those ships carrying your counter-Federation allies and contraband meds. Only they aren't really medicines, are they?"
A long pause followed, and then the moustache moved briskly as the alien demanded, "What do you know of these things?"
"It wasn't too hard to guess. Disguises. Constant questioning about the Enterprise flight schedule, number of personnel aboard, wanting know when we're going to the next Starfleet base or when we'll encounter other Federation ships. Plus, you seem to have access to a lot of currency in various denominations, easily converted from one to another. You're moving drugs, or something, and don't want anybody to notice you. It's time you listened to me, I think -"
The little metal disk had slowly grown hotter while Steap talked; now it burned and stung. Gasping, he bent over double.
"It was not our intention to use that, but you've made it necessary. Imagine: that disk twice as hot, with the added thrill of a Starfleet court-martial for disloyalty and exchanging confidential ship data for unregulated currencies. We can arrange for both to happen to you."
Steap ran for the bathroom, thinking of pouring cold water over his arm, and then stopped. What would happen if he got the metal disk in his arm wet? Electrocution? Corrosion? He had no idea and that alien wouldn't give him any power by telling him. Desperate, he pressed it against the cool plastic amalgam surface of the wall tiles just as the metal disk began to cool.
The altered voice was still audible from the outer room, and he staggered back to the screen.
"Charles Steap. Do not threaten us."
"You're evil. I was just doing business, and you hurt me? Don't torture me just 'cause I want a fair price."
"Your earlier message indicated that our drone was destroyed, a ship search occurred, and the Enterprise is now off schedule. You will obtain details about its planned activity for the next several days and report to us."
"When do I get my payment?" he hissed through gritted teeth.
"When we decide that you are no longer of use to us. Until then, Charles Steap...be careful."
…
Spock & Nyota's shared quarters, the Enterprise
Spock completed his meditation and carefully extinguished the flame in his ceramic firepot. His calm demeanor renewed, he washed, dressed, and reviewed communications from the bridge. He brushed a kiss against Nyota's forehead as she slumbered on, and then stood for a moment in front of the door. He had two confrontations to attend to—both were really duty matters, but Spock considered it likely that neither would be well received by the parties involved – before the Enterprise entered space dock at Alpha Cachette and the crew descended to the planet surface.
First the Vulcans, then Charles Steap.
...
"Dawa ya homa ni quinini, dawa ya ubaya ni nini?"
"The medicine of malaria is quinine. What is the medicine for wickedness?"
Source: "Sayings on East African Cloth" by Joseph G. Healey. Collection of, and Commentary on, 254 Sayings on East African Cloth (Misemo Kwenye Khanga za Afrika Mashariki -Tanzania)
Dear readers - thanks very much for reading, and for your patience between chapters! Trying to balance writing time, work and personal life - can't settle down for a few hours spent wearing my Lt. Uhura bathrobe & writing fanfic until later this month. Thanks for reading and thanks to those who have posted reviews/comments, and for supporting all the S/U fanfic authors out there.