The Vulcan Birds and Bees

Pike mentally applauded the engineer whose foresight designed the ready room with a shower, silently adding with a crooked grin, though likely not with this morning's uncomfortable? … non entirely unwelcome? … event in mind. Redressing, he opted for casual, the blue long-sleeved crewneck undershirt without its accompanying uniform jacket. His hand ran through still damp hair, pushing the locks up and away from his forehead while striding into the main area.

And nearly bumping into an unexpected visitor who stood stationary in the middle of the room in front of the conference table, hands clasped behind his back.

"Something we missed, Spock?"

"I am here on a different matter sir."

"What's on your mind?" The captain gestured to a chair, claiming one for himself.

This invitation was declined. "For a Human male, the curative effect of a cold shower is an urban myth."

Years of practice schooling his reactions kept Pike from sputtering. Still his eyes widened slightly. "Excuse me?"

"As you are aware, or then again, perhaps you are not, my father's species enjoys, or sometimes loathes, but I digress. Vulcans possess a sensitive and exact olfactory sense. Which, as Sarek frequently comments, I inherited without dilution from my mother's 'nose-blind' genome," Spock said.

His commander's response was slow and drawn out. "Allllright."

"In plainest speak, your earlier physical reaction triggered by Ms. Matthews' presence was not unnoticed."

"I don't understand … oh … OH … AH." Pike scratched his chin. "Okay. Umm … wait. You smelled not saw …" he abruptly cut off the rest of the sentence, thinking, whoa Chris, hold the horses, no need to give away the store.

In this instance Spock chose to follow Isak's frequent counsel: 'don't show your hole card unless you have to.' Though the logic of a poker strategy as a metaphor continued to elude.

Pike's eyes narrowed and his head tilted slightly to the left as he considered his junior science officer then eagerly adopted the more palatable interpretation. "Pheromones."

"Indeed." The half-Vulcan's right eyebrow rose at a snail's pace. "You are … I think the correct descriptor is squirming. And now I sense your body temperature increasing and additional blood flowing to your face." His perfect posture faltered a centimeter. "Have I erred?"

A brief headshake accompanied the reassurance, "Not at all. There are no taboo subjects … umm … did you, you know … have questions?" Pike again gestured at the chair opposite his own and said with emphasis, "Please."

Spock carefully placed an item on the table before perching on the edge of a seat. His hands pressed tightly against the table; his eyes focused on the wall beyond his commander's shoulder. His mouth opened then closed, no syllables were uttered in between.

Chris remembered the mortification felt when first realizing his parents not only indulged in sex more than once and for reasons other than his procreation, but they also likely enjoyed it. And now … no, not going there … am I that pseudo-parental image for … I said not to go there. Hell, there's a kick in the shin and reminds me of my years, rather my maturity. With his brilliance, his knowledge, his competence, his adult physicality by Human measures, I overlook Spock is on the front side of puberty, though for his species it's a transition with a fully formed frontal cortex. Pike reflected on teenage choices blowing up into spectacular mistakes. Yep, a grown-up frontal cortex would have been helpful.

"What I have to say is personal sir. Deeply private, rarely spoken of amongst ourselves, and never with outsiders."

"Let's drop the sirs for this one." The captain rose and crossed the room to the replicator. He returned with a mug of coffee and another of tea, placing it in front of his tense crewmember. "Helps to have something occupying your hands." Then resumed Pike seat, posture relaxed with shoulders against the chair, hands folded and resting on the table, mouth ticked upward without smiling, eyes neither too narrow nor too wide; his facial expression and body language offered invitation without compulsion. He waited quietly and patiently as the minutes passed.

"Yet …" Spock said before another lingering pause.

"The water gets better once you dive in."

"Sir?"

"Means the initial plunge into the cold stream is the hardest part."

Uncertain eyes met experienced, kind ones. Spock's hands encircled the warm cup. "Yet, you are not an outsider. Though not born of Vulcan you are … k'war'ma'khon, more accurately mesakh shan."

Pike leaned forward, giving his full attention.

"Are you familiar with my father's culture?"

"Other than diplomatic protocols, mostly bits learned in primary school," Pike said.

"Perhaps you have heard gossip, no rumor is a more accurate term, of … that a Vulcan male, once he reaches sexual maturity, is indisposed every seventh year?" Spock finished at a rapid pace. "These suppositions are, on the whole, true, but inaccurate."

"Assume I haven't. Start at the beginning."

"It is a condition now labeled Pon Farr, known in our ancient past as blood fever. Hormones drive us to madness, the cure is acceptance by a partner during physical consummation of the relationship, not simple intercourse as repeated in the crude taunts. And the cycle is not triggered by our own bodies, but instead via a biological call from our mate, regardless of their gender. This is considered a private matter; speaking of it is in bad taste and viewed as offensive."

"Yet this is not the secret we protect. For that I must, as you said, begin at the start." Spock sipped his tea. "The Vulcan katra, which some of my father's people define as the mind and others insist is spirit, it incarnates, lives in physicality, and continues after the body fails. Oral stories from epochs when mysticism dominated Vulcan mores, predating written language, speak of twined katras who journey this cycle together, their connection predating birth and surviving mortality. Much like the twin flames postulated by Earth's Plato, though not a single soul split among two bodies, but two distinct sentient entities who have chosen one another. And when the time comes to bond in union, and I apologize for the gendered bias in my explanation but it is apt for this discussion, the female's body signals her mate and his responds."

Pike turned his head slightly and glanced at the ceiling, as if evaluating, a gesture performed unconsciously. His chin jutted up and out, an audible exhale underlined his reaction. "That's … wondrous."

"Surak found logic in these beliefs and taught: 'every word uttered, every action taken brings one closer to their chosen or broadens the distance between them.' Not all of his followers agreed. Though every Vulcan knows a katra is, the existence of a katramate remains disputed."

"And you, if I may ask?"

"You may," Spock said with a nod. "I too see logic in the truth of these connections spanning time and space. And it is one of the few things on which Sarek and I agree. Please proceed with your question."

"How, how do you know who is your chosen?"

"There is no literature or science speaking to this. I theorize it is innate but can offer no proof, constructing a methodical analysis acceptable to skeptics has so far evaded members of the Vulcan Science Academy. Arranged marriages are now a custom. Medication triggers Pon Farr at sexual maturity if biology fails. Is this need for intervention evident of bondmates who are not katramates? We do not know. And anecdotal evidence indicates a Pon Farr requiring pharmaceutical inducement versus one of natural origin has no correlation to the success of the partnership."

Spock paused. "Priests practicing religions older than Surak's teachings believe the phenomenon universal. Which is why I am speaking of this with you. This morning, I am convinced, I witnessed a katra calling to the one who carries her heart, as the poets say. Ms. Matthew's body, as well as her mind and essence said, 'it is time' and yours answered."

Pike remained silent, his expression thoughtful.

"Did I overstep? Judging when and how much to share is very hard for me."

Spock's rigid shoulder line relaxed when Pike smiled. The green-twinged blush faded from the Vulcan's cheeks. His captain said, "You did not. At the moment things are complicated between Aalin and I."

"To clarify by putting my observation in Human terms, you emitted pheromones clearly marking territory, warning 'She is mine.'"

Pike shifted in his chair. He rubbed his chin. His fingers intertwined and resettled on the table. "Well, it would seem, on some level, my inner caveman … or perhaps a better analogy is a frisky, intent stallion surfaced. Best keep that cat in the bag."

"Is that a joke?"

"Clearly not."

"In evolutionary time, the Human race is only minutes from its cave dwelling ancestors, so no shame is implied. And there is no logic to keeping a feline in a portmanteau." The confusion in the Vulcan's tone dissipated. "Is Talos a problem?"

"What happened there is a barrier we're working through," Pike said. "Or maybe test is a better descriptor."

Spock pushed the item he had laid on the table in the direction of his commander. "Dr. Boyce insisted our efforts required bespoke clothing. The reasons why continue to evade me, as wearing such items did not contribute to our mission's success. The couple's questionnaire I designed and completed on your behalf proved a far better use of time."

Unfolding the hat, Pike traced its lettering: Team Christopher. He chuckled. "Phil never does anything by halves."

"I shall forward to you my analysis of your compatibility with Ms. Matthews, which I calculate to be correct within a margin of error of 2.34284 percent." Spock's voice grew animated, as it often did when sorting an interesting puzzle. "Given refinement, I can improve the accuracy. When you have digested the material, I shall avail myself to you and to her for explanation. And I may, after genericizing and improving the mathematics behind the algorithm, post an application on the ship's internet for crew use."

"Step at a time? And?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Thank you."

Spock rose from his chair. "If I may offer one additional reflection?"

Pike nodded.

"The additional workload you assigned to Ms. Matthews in our earlier meeting is counterproductive to your aims."

ooooo

Pike remained at the conference table after his officer departed. He turned Spock's words over and over in his mind, internalizing the Vulcan belief system underpinning linked katras. This mysticism, its potentials, its promises beckoned. Pragmatism and his usual dismissal of such sentiments aside, the possibility of a lover, his lover, the lover, calling to him across a vast or small distance, and his body, all of him answering, he wanted this to be truth. Fingers typed and sent a message.

Aalin's face resolved on the screen. "You have a language question?"

"I need a translation. From Vulcan. K'war'ma'khon and mesakh shan," he said.

"The formal definition of the first word is 'connection without sharing genetic material.' Mesakh literally translates to beyond, shan to clan. When the two words are used together the connotation of the phrase is 'found family.' Does that help?"

"Hmmm. Yes."

"Chris, 'msakh shan' isn't used often, and never in everyday conversation. The phrase is considered sacred and reserved for ritual. Did you read this in a book?"

"Ah, no. A discussion for another time. May I see you tonight? You know, we could try that date thing again?"

A smile answered before her words. "I'd like that. Will you be playing another cutthroat handball match this evening?"

"Does that guarantee me another massage?"

Aalin's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Once I feel sorry for you, but your repeated indulgence in such style of the game with professionals? A maxim about the definition of insanity comes to mind. Maybe try charm and dimples instead?"

Said dimples made an appearance. "Okay. Remember it was your suggestion because, as you know, you can't resist them."

"You're a legend in your own mind," she murmured but the flush in her cheeks offered a differing sentiment.

Chris flashed her a grin then terminated the call. His thoughts returned to Spock, and his junior science officer's final remark. Did a Vulcan teenager just give me dating advice?

A/N: For those who ship Kirk/Spock - did Jim trigger Spock's Pon Farr?