Author's Note: In Chapter 16, Uhura learns an unexpected lesson from Kirk that sends her into the arms of Spock. Once with the Vulcan, the East African recognizes their relationship is not all she had desired.
Your comments are always welcome.
Wearing a jacket over her uniform and clutching the straps of her bag, Uhura walked briskly across the campus quad until she came to an intersection of two sidewalks. One led to her dorm, while the other would take her toward the building where Spock had arranged their rendezvous. Still furious at the Vulcan, the East African had every intention of heading straight to her room where she would attempt to sort out her encounter with Spock.
Did he really think I was going to race over to be with him according to his timetable? She thought. Does he think he's a puppet master who can just pull my strings at will?
"Hey, Uhura." She heard a voice call to her and recognized it belonged to Kirk.
"What is it?" She said reluctantly as she turned to the Iowan. She noticed him with his jacket wrapped around some object that he seemed to be holding gingerly.
"I've got something to show you."
"Listen, Kirk, I'm really not in the mood for any of your pranks right now." She snapped testily.
"Hey, what's up with you, Lady Dragon? Why am I feeling your heat?"
Uhura looked to the smiling Cadet with the tousled blonde hair. "That was really corny, you know."
"Well, considering where I'm from, I guess I can't help myself." Despite the weak joke, he could see her stern face had begun to soften a bit. "Tough day at the office?"
"I guess you could say that." She conceded and then observed something peculiar about his jacket. "Hey, looks like something is moving inside there."
"I was wondering when you would notice." Kirk said as he lifted his jacket to reveal his surprise.
"Oh, Kirk!" She exclaimed as she lifted a puppy up from his jacket. "He's so cute!"
"Yeah, that's my boy." The Iowan beamed proudly like a new father. "I knew you'd like him."
Suddenly cognizant of the looks of others passing by, she cradled the dog in her arms to obscure its view. She then brought it over to a nearby bench, where Kirk joined her.
"Is this one of Max's puppies? The bartender at Schmaltz?"
"Yeah. Remember, when we were celebrating there last night, he said I could have one."
As she gently stroked the dog's coat, it pleased Kirk. He could never care for a woman who did not take to animals.
"Looks like the best out of the litter." She commented. "But Kirk, you know you can't keep him here on campus."
"I can keep him here as long as nobody complains."
"You know someone in your dorm will eventually tell. You're not everyone's pick for Mr. Congeniality."
"Don't worry, I have a back up plan. Captain Pike has got a kid who I think would be perfect for Alexander."
"Alexander? Why did you call him that?"
"He's named in honor of the Macedonian general."
"Alexander the Great?" She said as she nuzzeled against the puppy's nose. "Why such a lofty name for such a sweet dog?"
"Because it's a name he can grow into. I think it suits him just fine."
Uhura laughed as the dog began to lick her face. "All right . . . all right. I guess he agrees with you. If Captain Pike agrees to it, I think Jack and Alexander will be a perfect match."
"Hey, how do you know the kid's name?"
"Have you already forgotten about the referral you gave him?"
"So, Jack came to see you after all."
"Yeah, I worked with him for a while today."
"So, is he speaking Spanish like a native?"
"Kirk – I only saw him for about an hour."
"You gave him a whole hour? Then, I know he'll do all right for his presentation tomorrow. He just needed a confidence booster."
Uhura knew why the boy would be attracted to Kirk. He was a man who always had a solution for every problem. He refused to be defeated by any situation, even if he had to bend the rules to get the outcome he was simply not an option for the daring Cadet. Only his inability to find the answer to the Kobiashi Maru simulation had posed what appeared to be an insurmountable obstacle to him. Uhura thought it was highly improbably for the Iowan to become the first Cadet to solve the mystery of the simulation, rumored to have been programmed by Spock. Yet, if anyone would finally find a way to beat it, she could think of no better candidate than Kirk.
"Hey," Kirk continued, "Jack wasn't the one who put you in such a foul mood earlier, was he?"
"Oh, no. Not at all. He seems like a good kid and is certainly more appreciative than most of the Cadets who seek my help."
"So, then what happened? Why were you wearing the sour face?" Kirk said as he leaned slightly toward her. His close proximity never discomfited her. While there were times when they got on each other's nerves, Uhura recognized their experiences created an intimacy between them she did not share with any of the other Cadets.
"McCoy left for Alpha Colony V only a few hours and already you've taken on one of his roles as a counselor." She observed. "So, do you also have medical training that I don't know about?" Although she delivered her question with a smile, Kirk would not take the bait.
"You're evading." He told her plainly.
Uhura looked to the Iowan who knew her all too well. Yet, there was no way she could confide in him about her relationship with Spock. So, she decided it would be best to continue to dodge the matter.
"How could I even think about being cross with this little puppy in my arms?" The East African then held the dog up with its face turned toward her as she spoke to it. "When I complete my tours with Starfleet, one of the first things I'm going to do is get a dog just like you."
Kirk paused for a moment suddenly immersed in a memory. Then, he spoke. "I have an aunt like that . . . my mother's younger sister. We call her Connie, although that's a variation of her birth name, Constance."
"Constance." Uhura repeated. "That's a strong woman's name for someone who is reliable . . . faithful . . . steady."
"That definitely describes her. Even though she lives off-planet on Invernia II, her many communications to my mother were a source of comfort during the time she endured marriage to my stepfather."
Uhura recalled, by Kirk's account his mother's second husband had been emotionally abusive to the family. At Uhura's urging, two years ago Kirk attended his funeral to support of his mother. However, his voice betrayed the anger he still felt with the memory of this alcoholic.
"I have never known Connie not to keep at least one or two dogs." He continued. "And for every holiday, she would dress them up in attire appropriate for that occasion. Then, she would send us a stargram with a photo of those hapless canines."
Uhura laughed. "Don't you think the dogs got into the fun?"
"Knowing where their meals came from, what choice did they have?"
"What did your mother think of the pictures?"
"She loved them. During her marriage to my stepfather, the photos were one of the few things that would almost always bring a smile to her face."
"Almost always? It seems like images like that would always guarantee a happy result."
"Not every time. One instance in particular . . . I remember when I was 13 or 14 . . . one of the pictures brought a few tears to my mother's eyes. I asked her what was wrong and she told me . . . "
"They're all she's got, Jim . . . the dogs are all she's got."
Winona Kirk turned her head away from her son as if momentarily regretting speaking these thoughts before him. Then she lovingly returned her eyes to him, knowing now what she had to say.
"I suppose my example hasn't been a good one for Connie, you or your brother." She confessed. "But, you can't give up on people . . . you can't give up on love. When it is 'right' – like the way it was between your father and me – I promise you it will make life worth living."
As Uhura sat silently on the bench, Kirk knew he had hit his mark. He gently removed the puppy from her hands and rose up from his seat.
"I better find him something to eat before he starts raising a fuss. Are you headed back to your dorm?" When she did not answer right away, he called her name.
"Uhura?"
"What?" The East African appeared a bit startled as if he had disturbed her from a deep thought.
"Are you headed back to your dorm?" He repeated as he returned the puppy back under his jacket.
"Yeah for awhile, but I'll probably be going out, again." She replied. "There's something I got to do."
Spock checked his chronometer and looked to the door of a former faculty lounge. Forty-six minutes, twenty-seven seconds since the time we had departed. Nearly three times my estimation on how long it should have taken Nyota to reach this rendezvous point.
The Vulcan admitted to himself their parting had not been amicable. While he did not fully understand her reaction, the East African seemed somewhat offended by his challenge for her to race to their meeting place as a demonstration of her affection for him.1 Yet, he could not entertain the thought her displeasure would result in Nyota deciding not find her way to him.
Spock reasoned the directions to the site had not been difficult. Located within the Academy's Physical Science Complex, the lounge was situated in a now obsolete building set for demolition to make way for a new Laser Interferometer Gravitational Wave Observatory that would rival the one at the Vulcan Science Academy. With minimal power still available and furnishings not yet removed, Spock deemed it a suitable place for their encounter. Knowing the continued accessibility to this site would be short-lived, he only regretted he had not thought of this space earlier.
Nyota will come to me. Spock told himself. She has to come to me.
The Vulcan had barely completed the thought when Nyota walked into the room with her bag across her shoulder.
"Nyota," he began. "I have a cold supper awaiting us in the refrigerator. However, I did not want to set it on the table, yet, out of concern its taste might suffer. Do you realize what time . . . "
"Oh, no you don't." She deposited her bag on a nearby chair and then flirtatiously walked towards him.
"Don't dare tell me about the time, Spock. I am well aware of the hour."
"Then, how do you explain your delay?" He asked, although intrigued by her coquettish demeanor.
"You should not be so concerned with the timing of my arrival." She told him as she moved so close to him, barely an inch of space stood between them. "Instead, just be glad that I am here."
"I had no doubt you would . . ."
The East African stopped the Vulcan from completing his sentence as he felt her warm, sensuous lips upon his. When she lifted her lips from his, it was he who realized how much he had missed her touch. His hands found their place around her waist as he was not ready for her to move from him.
"You interrupted my speech."
"I had to stop you."
"Why was that an imperative?"
"I was afraid you were about to say something that would cause me to turn back around and go out the door."
"I was only going to say I had no doubt you would eventually arrive . . . "
Several more kisses found their way to his lips.
The Vulcan took her into his eyes. "I must admit your method for stilling my tongue is most enjoyable."
"Perhaps, but its obviously ineffective in addressing it primary intent. That time, you almost completed your thought before I could stop your mouth."
"If you can somehow sense what I am about to say, then why do you not allow me to express it?"
"Thoughts like that make it seem as though you are taking me for granted. And, I don't want to be taken for granted."
"Am I mistaken about your love for me?" He asked.
"Of course not, Spock." She replied without hesitation.
"Then, why would you confuse my certainty of your love for me with the state of being taken for granted? How would it be possible for me to take for granted the one who loves me?"
"I see." She began her rejoinder, while letting her slender fingers playfully move up his chest. "So, your justification for not taking me for granted is motivated by my affection for you. Well, what about your feelings toward me? Do you not love me, Spock?" Just as her fingers reached his shoulders and began to move toward his face, the Vulcan suddenly jerked back his head and released her waist from his grasp.
Concerned about his unexpected behavior, Uhura asked, "Baby, what's wrong?"
"Nyota." He addressed her in his stern, professorial voice. "By chance, have you recently been in contact with a four legged creature?"
"When I left you at the Graduate Assistants Office, I came across a friend of mine who had a puppy."
"Did you touch it?"
"Yes."
"With your hands?"
"I held it for a while? What's up with the cross examination?"
"Your hands have a most disagreeable odor."
Taken aback by his charge, Uhura took a few moments before she could reply. "You mean to tell me, you are offended by my hands because I touched a dog!" She brought her fingers to her nose and sniffed. "I don't even smell anything."
"The Vulcan olfactory system is far more sensitive to such stimuli than humans."
"It was my understanding it takes Vulcans a while to become accustomed to odors emitted by humans. I had no idea the same held true for dogs."
"With my mother being a human, I became acclimated to her scent and did not need to undergo the adjustment period normally endured by Vulcans who have interactions with those of her kind. In contrast, my encounters with domesticated Terran animals have been quite rare and, thus, has not afforded me the opportunity or desire to become acclimated to their distinctive smell."
"Spock, it was such a cute puppy." She attempted to reason with him. "How could the scent of such a sweet baby displease you so?"
"Your characterization of this mammal is highly subjective."
"Perhaps, if you were exposed to them on a more regular basis, you could learn to tolerate these animals as you do humans."
"Why should I subject myself to what will no doubt be a disagreeable experience when I have no intention of ever harboring such a creature?"
"I can't believe you are so unwilling to even try. While growing up in Kenya, there was always a dog that guarded our home. Our pet was always considered a trusted member of our family."
"Nyota, if we were ever to make a home together, there will be no dogs in our household. Fortunately, you have such memories which hopefully will last you a lifetime."
"And why do you think owning a dog should only be your decision? Don't I have a voice in the matter?"
"How is it possible to reconcile a matter in a case where one of the parties is vehemently opposed to the idea."
"Let me tell you something, Spock, if we were ever to make a home together, we will discuss issues as equal partners and come to an agreement which respects each other's perspective."
"Such a construct for a relationship appears desirable in theory. However, when put to the test, one finds it not an effective model when the involved parties have fundamental disagreements that cannot be satisfactorily resolved."
"Have you forgotten about the use of compromise? Compromise is often a tool for finding a solution which marries the considerations of all involved."
"Compromise is the tool of complacency, not of effectiveness."
"Is that right? Then, how did your parents reconcile their differences?"
"My mother married my father fully understanding the import of his position and standing in Vulcan society. In order to represent a world most foreign to her, as an Ambassador's wife she recognized the need to fully adopt Vulcan manners, customs and philosophy. While my parents did discuss familial decisions among themselves, my mother deferred to my father when there was no consensus on a particular resolution. For her, it was the most logical choice available."
"Did she tell you that? Did she actually say she always let your father have his way?"
"She did not need to. She always conceded to his judgment on matters."
"I don't believe it."
Her comment gave Spock pause. "Nyota, what possible basis rests your opinion?"
"I spent nearly an entire day with Amanda."
"You spent less than eight hours in her company. I am curious about the method you employed to somehow direct the conversation to Vulcan spousal practices in resolving domestic conflicts."
"We didn't have to talk about it directly. Just being with her told me about what kind of woman she is."
"According to a Terran calendar, I've only known her for 33 years. Please enlighten me with your superior knowledge of this woman."
Uhura disregarded his snide comments. As a woman and someone who embraced her own humanity, she felt she could offer insights on the matter not considered by the Vulcan.
"Just think, Spock. Your mother left her home world and all that she knew. On top of that, she was willing to sublimate her own identity and wholly adopt an alien culture to experience life in her husband's world. To do what she did took a woman of great strength of character, in order not to lose herself in such a structured society that so strictly defines the roles and behavior of its citizens. I cannot believe a woman like that would suddenly turn into somebody's lap dog."
The Vulcan began to contemplate her words. His mother certainly displayed a strong fortitude quite uncharacteristic of a submissive person.
"Maybe you just weren't privy to the process, but I find it hard to believe Amanda would not have had some influence in the decisions of the household."
Spock took in the petit brown-skinned woman. Upon reflection, her contention was within reason and the realm of possibility. While growing up, his parents never carried out any discussions of conflicts before him. Instead, they waited until he had retired to his room or were secured behind the closed doors of the study or their bedroom.
He realized, Despite her more limited knowledge of my mother, Nyota's comments were far more perceptive than his own.
Uhura waited for his comment, but none was forthcoming from Spock still deep in thought. After a few moments, the Vulcan moved to the wash station to clean his hands. He then began to busy himself with taking food out of the refrigerator and placing it on the table.
"Spock?" She called to him, but his response was not what she expected.
"You will want to use the wash station to remove the canine scent from your hands. The disinfectant should prove quite effective for that task."
Uhura looked to the Vulcan who appeared oblivious to her bewilderment. Just why was he telling a grown woman to wash her hands before dinner? Does he see me as a child who has to be schooled on personal hygiene? For the East African, there were many things wrong with this picture. She knew she was definitely no Amanda Grayson.
Uhura enjoyed the ornaments of a romantic Terran relationship – complements, attention, hand holding, and customs of male chivalry. But, even before they began dating, Uhura became aware Spock would rarely participate in these activities. She was almost always the one to initiate affectionate gestures or intimate conversation. He would question the rationale for pulling out a chair for an able-bodied person. And, as far as assisting her with the removal an outer garment, wasn't the jacket she wore that evening still on her person?
Abruptly ending a conversation without satisfactory closure for both parties was, yet, another pet peeve she felt symptomatic of a larger issue. Without a doubt, no other person at the Academy rivaled Spock intellectual capacity. Yet, his inability to adequately express his emotional state, as well as, his affections for her had become a source of frustration for the East African.
She thought, Perhaps, like the dog scent, he may never be willing to accommodate my preferences. Is it really worth it?
Spock looked to Uhura who seemed to have not moved since he made his last comment. "Nyota, I have completed preparation of the table. Yet, you have not made your way to the wash station. Is there a reason for your lack of compliance?"
"Just thinking." She replied.
"One thinks even when one is asleep. If a person were not engaged in that activity, one would most likely be dead. This would be most unfortunate in your case. Could you not be more specific with the subject of your meditation?"
Uhura could only think, How crazy is this! And, with that thought she could not help, but laugh at her own participation in the madness.
Oh, how she loved him so . . .
When the East African's laugh ended in a smile, it filled the room. And, the Vulcan could not help but be affected by the glow.
"Did I say something which brought you pleasure?" He asked.
"Baby, it wasn't really anything you said. I was just thinking that I'm nobody's Aunt Connie."
"Does that name have any particular significance?"
"One day, I'll have to tell you about it. Ironically, you may find yourself more appreciative of dogs than you may have ever thought possible."
The Vulcan watched as the East African made a sultry show of the removal of her jacket. After draping the article across a chair, she made her way to the wash station and squirted disinfecting soap onto her hand. Working up a lather, she scrubbed both arms up to her elbows reminiscent of the way physicians used to prepare themselves for surgery in years gone by. After drying her arms thoroughly, she presented herself to him.
The East African stood before the Vulcan . . .
She stood not in a posture of submission . . .
But of a proud woman willing to act . . .
A proud woman willing to give . . .
A proud woman willing to bend . . .
She was ready . . .
She was ready . . .
She was ready to take her prize.
"I tried my best to remove all trace of the puppy." Uhura commented. "But, I held him so close to me, I am sure his odor can still be detected on my clothing. Can you deal with it, Baby?"
He took her in his eyes . . .
And beheld her . . .
How he . . .
Adored her . . .
Cherished her . . .
and loved her so . . .
Ashayam . . .
You are a precious jewel I will never forsaken.
"Under the circumstances, I believe I can bear it." He replied, as the Vulcan took his seat and began to serve their plates.
Uhura walked over to the table, pulled out her own chair, and sat down without Spock looking up.
Author's Note: Their tryst will continue with the next chapter as our duo continues to negotiate their relationship amidst their differences.
I won't make any more promises about how soon I will complete future chapters, since my predictions are rarely close to being right. Also, this summer's workload is a bit heavier than usual at this time of year. However, the good news is that the next chapter is already mapped out. I just have to find the time to type and post it.
Thanks for staying with the story despite my lapses.
Your comments are always welcome.
1 See Chapter 15 of my story, "Operation No Return."